Part 8
If some hollow creed you doubt, Though the whole world hoot and shout, Doubt it.
If you know what torch to light, Guiding others through the night, Light it.
If you've any debt to pay, Rest you neither night nor day-- Pay it.
If you've any joy to hold, Next your heart, lest it grow cold, Hold it.
If you've any grief to meet, At the loving Father's feet, Meet it.
If you're given light to see What a child of God should be, See it.
Whether life be bright or drear, There's a message, sweet and clear, Whispered down to every ear-- Hear it!
HOW THE NEW YEAR CAME.
THE sun was sinking out of sight. "Bessie," said Herbert, "have you heard? It's really true, upon my word. This year is going away to-night. Its time is up, they say, and so At midnight it will have to go. And, right away, another year Will come along, a real new year, As soft as any mouse-- So soft, we'll hardly hear it creep-- Yes, come right to this very house, While every one's asleep!"
Now, Bessie's eyes grew wide, to hear. "Let's keep awake," she cried, "and so We'll see one come and see one go-- Two years at once! Won't that be queer? Let's tell the New Year it is bad, We want the one we've always had, With birds and flowers and things, you know, And funny ice and pretty snow. It had my birthday, too, in May, And yours--when was it? and you know How it had Fourth o' July one day, And Christmas. Oh! it _mustn't_ go!"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Herbert, "what a Bess This year was new when first it came. The next one will be just the same As this that's going now, I guess. That's nothing. But what bothers me Is how the change is going to be. I can't see how one year can go And one can come at midnight, so All in a minute--_that's_ the bother! I've heard them say 'the rolling year': You'd think they'd roll on one another, Unless they knew just how to steer."
The speck of time 'twixt night and day Was close at hand. Herbert and Bess Had won their parents' smiling "yes" To watch the old year go away. Nurse on the lounge found easy rest, Till Bess should come to be undrest; All but the children were asleep, And years might roll, or years might creep, For all they cared; while Bess and Bert, Who never stirred and scarcely spoke, Watched the great clock, awake, alert, All breathless for the coming stroke.
Soon Bessie whispered, "Moll don't care." Moll was her doll. And Herbert said, "The clock's so far up overhead It makes me wink to watch it there, The great tall thing! Let's look inside!" And so its door they opened wide:
TICK-A-TICK! How loud it sounded! Bessie's heart with wonder bounded. How the great round thing that hung Down the middle, swung and swung! _Tick, a-tick, a-tick, a-tick_-- Dear, how loud it was, and quick! _Tick-a, tick-a, tick-a, tick-a!_ Surely it was growing quicker! While the swinging thing kept on, Back and forth, and never done.
There! It's coming! Loud and clear, Each ringing stroke the night alarms. Bess, screaming, hid in Herbert's arms. "The year!" he cried, "the year! the year!" "Where?" faltered Bessie, "which? where'bouts?" But still "The year!" glad Herbert shouts; And still the steady strokes rang on Until the banished year was gone. "We've seen the Old Year out--hurrah!" "Oh! oh!" sobbed Bessie, "call mamma. I don't like years to racket so; It frightens me to hear 'em go!" But Herbert kissed away her tears, And, gently soothing all her fears, He heard the New Year coming quick, _Tick, a-tick, a-tick, a-tick!_
THE WIND AND THE MOON.
THE wind drove the moon To a cloud-built cave, And shut her in As it were her grave;
The cave threw wide A silver portal-- And forth she came, Serene, immortal!
He piled great clouds With angry might, Till lost in gloom Was all her light;
The clouds a moment Held her under, Then, glorified, They burst asunder!
The wind that night Bemoaned and whistled Till all the forest Groaned and bristled,--
While moonbeams stole To tear-wet pillows, And chased the gloom From graveyard willows.
CHILDREN'S HYMN.
AIR, "_Little Drops of Water_."
FROM the sunny morning To the starry night, Every look and motion Meets our Father's sight.
From our earliest breathing To our latest year, Every sound we utter Meets our Father's ear.
Through our earthly journey, Wheresoe'er we go, Every thought and feeling Doth our Father know.
Let us then be careful That our looks shall be Brave and kind and cheerful, For our Lord to see.
Let us guard each accent With a holy fear, Fit our every saying For our Lord to hear.
Let no thought within us, Hidden or confessed, Ever bring a sorrow To our dear Lord's breast.
Help us, O our Father! Hear our earnest plea-- Teach thy little children How to live for Thee!
HANS BRINKER;
OR, THE SILVER SKATES.
By MRS. MARY MAPES DODGE, _Author of "Rhymes and Jingles," &c., and Editress of St. Nicholas_.
One vol., 12mo, cloth, with Eight Illustrations, $1.50.
_Hans Brinker; or, The Silver Skates_ is one of those stories which is destined to be a source of perennial delight to generation after generation of children. It tells of life in Holland--a country which changes so little that a story of people who lived there twenty years ago might be told of to-day as well, and it is marked throughout by a vivacity, a freshness, and a healthy vigor which goes straight to the heart of every reader whether he be old or young.
_From the Nation._
"The authoress has shown, in her former works for the young, a very rare ability to meet their wants; but she has produced nothing better than this charming tale--alive with incident and action, adorned rather than freighted with useful facts, and moral without moralization."
_From the Atlantic Monthly._
"'Hans Brinker' is a charming domestic story, which is addressed, indeed, to young people, but which may be read with pleasure and profit by their elders. * * The lessons inculcated, elevated in tone, are in the action of the story and the feelings and aspirations of the actors."
_From the Congregationalist._
"For children what could be better as a Christmas gift than a copy of Mrs. Dodge's _Hans Brinker; or, the Silver Skates_, of which we are now given a new and beautiful edition? This is one of the most charming of juvenile stories, dealing with fresh scenes and a strange life, and told with sweet simplicity and great beauty."
_From the Watchman and Reflector._
"It has fine wit and natural pathos, and abounds in sentiments which are inspiring to the heart of any reader, young and old. * * * The character and incidents are of unusual interest. The plot is somewhat intricate, but is managed with a master's skill. The tone is remarkably pure, and the lesson which the story itself presses home on the reader is in the highest degree significant."
_From the Cleveland Leader._
"Mrs. Dodge never permits her story to lag, and the bright eyes which have scanned its opening pages will not be content till they have followed the fascinating romance to its close."
_From Appleton's Journal._
"A better present to a youngster of the right mind we should find it hard to select."
_Sent postpaid on receipt of the price by the Publishers_, SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO., _743 & 745 Broadway, New York_.
"_Infinite riches in a little room._"--MARLOWE.
THE
=BRIC-A-BRAC SERIES.=
=Personal Reminiscences of Famous Poets and Novelists, Wits and Humorists, Artists, Actors, Musicians, and the like.=
EDITED BY
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PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY CORNELIA KNIGHT AND THOMAS RAIKES.
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY MOORE AND JERDAN.
THE GREVILLE MEMOIRS: A JOURNAL OF THE REIGNS OF KINGS GEORGE THE FOURTH AND WILLIAM THE FOURTH.
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY BARHAM, HARNESS, AND HODDER.
PROSPER MÉRIMÉE'S LETTERS TO AN INCOGNITA; WITH RECOLLECTIONS BY LAMARTINE AND GEORGE SAND.
ANECDOTE BIOGRAPHIES OF THACKERAY AND DICKENS.
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY CHORLEY, PLANCHÉ, AND YOUNG.
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* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Punctuation errors repaired. Some of the titles of the poems were in the page headers. These have been added to the text above the poems. Varied hyphenation was retained for example as in live-long and livelong.
Page 247, "litttle" changed to "little" (And poor little)