Part 4

Just then Rollo pointed up to the wall, and said,

“See, there is a tiger on the wall;--it looks like a tiger.”

His father looked up at the irregular lines on the wall, which had attracted his little boy’s attention, but he could not see any thing that resembled a tiger.

“I don’t see,” said his father; “where is his _head_?”

“He has not got any head; it is not a tiger, it only looks like a tiger. It has got a tail.”

“Well, where is his tail?”

“I--don’t--know. I see a stag, too, and camel.”

In a minute or two his father turned Rollo’s face over gently towards himself, so that his attention should not be attracted by what he saw there. He wanted him to listen to what he was saying to him.

“Well, Rollo,” said he, “whose clothes are you going to wear to-day?”

“Oh, I am going to wear _my_ clothes,” said Rollo; “yours would be a great deal too big.”

“Have you got any clothes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did you get them?”

“I--don’t--know,” said Rollo, hesitating.

“The clothes which you wore yesterday belong to _me_,” said his father. “Have you got any others?”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “I have got some up stairs in the drawer.”

“Well, those belong to me. I paid for them with my money, and I might sell them or give them away at any time, if I chose. Have you not got any others?”

“No, sir,” said Rollo.

“Well,” said his father, “I shall let you wear those clothes of mine then. I am very glad I have got a house, and some breakfast, and some clothes for my little Rollo boy since you have not got any of your own. But I think if I get a house for you to live in, and breakfast for you to eat, and clothes for you to wear, you ought to be a very careful, faithful, obedient little boy.”

ROLLO’S PRAYER.

Every night, when Rollo went to bed, he said a prayer which his father had taught him. It is an excellent plan for a boy or girl to say their prayers every night. For you have probably done something wrong during the day, and you ought not to go to sleep until you are forgiven. Besides, God has taken care of you through the day, and you ought not to go to sleep till you have sincerely thanked him, and asked him to take care of you through the night, while you sleep. I will tell you what Rollo’s prayer was, and I think you had better learn it, and say it every night before you go to sleep, unless you have already learned some other one.

The Prayer.

Now that another day is gone, and I lay down my head upon my pillow to rest, I come to thee, Almighty God, my Heavenly Father, to ask thee to forgive my sins, and to take care of me this night.

I have done wrong a great many times,--and destroyed my own peace of mind, and made my father and mother unhappy, and displeased thee. I pray thee, O God, to forgive me for Jesus Christ my Saviour’s sake; and wilt thou keep my heart that I may do wrong no more. Help me, every day, to try to please thee more and more, so that I may be thy dutiful and obedient child while I live, and my soul be saved when I die.

And now wilt thou come and be near my bed-side while I sleep, keep me safe until the morning; and always, whether I wake or sleep, whether I live or die, wilt thou be with me, and love me, and take care of me, forever, for Jesus’ sake.

Amen.

* * * * *

It will do no good to say this or any other prayer, unless you say it seriously and sincerely, and are really sorry for having done wrong, and resolved to do so no more.

BUNNY.

A FICTITIOUS STORY.

Once there was a beautiful wood, and in it many large trees. In one of these trees was a large hole; the bottom of the hole was covered with dry leaves and moss. Here lived Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel, with their five children, named Creep, Peep, Bushy, Grey and Bunny. They were good little squirrels, and might have been a very happy family, had not Bunny been discontented. She tried to make the others so too. She would very often crowd her brothers and sisters, and fret because she had not room.

One day their father and mother were away, running about in the woods, trying to find something for them to eat. The little squirrels were playing together very pleasantly, till Bunny pushed Creep against Peep, and then shoved Bushy, telling them to move, for she had not room. In truth, Bunny was often a very naughty squirrel, and made her father and mother very unhappy. Very often they would lie awake at night thinking how they should make her a better child, and kind and pleasant to her brothers and sisters.

When they came home, the day I have mentioned, from their ramble in search of something to eat, they saw that their children looked very sober and unhappy, and Creep, who was the oldest, told them how Bunny had behaved. Creep was a very good squirrel, and her parents could always believe her. She never tried to make her brothers and sisters seem more naughty than they were.

That night, Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel talked about Bunny before they went to sleep, and concluded they _must_ put a stop to her naughty behavior.

The next morning, Bunny’s father got up and asked her to go and walk with him. She went, and they walked in the beautiful wood. There were nuts, and acorns, and berries, and Bunny longed to eat as many as she wanted.

Presently her father told her how very wrong she had behaved, and that he must punish her. So he took her up with his fore paw, and ran up a tree. The tree was very tall, and it was a good while before they got far up. Poor little Bunny was very much frightened. At last they came to a small, dark hole, just large enough for her to turn round in. Here her father put her in, and told her she must stay there. Then he went away, and left her here alone, and she could hear her father’s feet pat along the tree as he went down, and then the dry leaves on the ground rustle as he ran over them.

Dinner time came, and Bunny hoped her father would come with some dinner. But no,--he did not come. She began to cry, for she was hungry. She felt with her paw all round, and could only find one little acorn and some dried leaves. She looked out of the hole, but was afraid to go out, it was so high up.

She now began to feel very sorry. She knew how unkind she had been to her brothers and sisters. She cried, and thought if her father would come and take her home, she would not crowd and push and fret any more.

Supper time came, but she could not hear any one coming.

The sun set,--it began to grow dark, and the winds blew and whistled through the trees. At last, down poured the rain, and it came into the hole, and poor little Bunny was completely wet.

Presently she thought she heard a scratching and a patting on the leaves, and then upon the tree; and very soon up came her father. He saw that little Bunny looked sorry. She told her father she would try and be a good, pleasant squirrel if he would take her home, and give her some supper. So he took her up with his paw, and down the tree they went, and soon got home to their very warm nest. Here was a fine supper of sweet acorns--and the family were all glad to see little Bunny again, and whenever she began to be naughty, she thought of the dark hole where she had been left alone and without supper, and she became a very good little squirrel, and was ever afterwards a great comfort to her parents.

THE RAFT.

Do you remember any thing about Jonas;--how they found him by the side of the road and brought him home? When Rollo’s father found him, he meant to have sent him to the poor-house, where all poor boys are taken care of, but he kept him in his house a few days first, and he found that he was a very good boy. He had a great many faults, but he was a good-natured, pleasant boy, and he was willing to learn, and so Rollo’s father thought he would let him stay and live with him, and work for him.

Jonas was very industrious and faithful. Do you know what industrious means? Do you know what faithful means? He was kind too. He was very kind to Rollo. He used to help Rollo a great deal, and play with him, and tell him stories.

There was a beautiful brook very near the house which Rollo lived in. I have made you a picture of the elm yard, behind the house. By and by, I shall make you a picture of all the house, and the trees, and fields around it, and the brook, and then you will understand it all exactly. Now I can only tell you there was a brook, and Jonas used to take Rollo down to the brook sometimes to play. The brook was wide, and the water flowed slowly and smoothly, but it was not very deep. Jonas liked to be near the water. He had sailed over the seas, and he liked the water.

One day Jonas found two great logs on the shore of the brook. He rolled them into the water. Then he went up to the house and got some pieces of board, and a hammer and some nails. He gave Rollo the hammer and nails to carry, and he carried the boards. He walked back then to the pond. He floated the logs side by side, and nailed the boards across, and then he stood upon it, and it bore him up on the water. Jonas called it his raft. Then he took a pole and pushed himself off from the shore and shouted, “HURRAH, HURRAH.”

Rollo stood upon the shore looking at him, and Rollo too shouted, “HURRAH, HURRAH.”

Then Rollo said, “Let me get on and sail too.”

“No,” said Jonas, “not till I ask your mother if she is willing.”

That day when they went home, Rollo asked his father and mother if they were willing that he should sail on Jonas’s raft. His father said he would go down and look at it. When he came to the brook, he was surprised to see such a good strong raft, and he said that Rollo might sail on it, if they would both be careful. Then Jonas got on before, and pushed with his pole, and Rollo sat behind and held on, and they sailed away up towards the bridge. You can see them in the picture. You can see the raft, and Jonas pushing with a pole, and Rollo holding on, and the brook, and the bridge. Rollo and Jonas had a great many good sails on this raft.

CONTRARY CHARLES.

Do you know what a contrary boy is? I will tell you. He is one who is never satisfied with what he has, but always wants something different. If I were to say to you, “Come, James, and see what a pretty _picture_ I have got here;” and you should say, “No, I don’t want a picture, you said you would bring me a pretty book,”--that would be being _contrary_. If your father should bring you home a little cart to draw about the room, and you should say, “I don’t want a cart, I don’t like carts, I want a horse and whip, like William’s;” that would be being very contrary.

Now I knew a little boy once, who was unhappy a great deal of the time, because he would not be pleased with the playthings he had, but always wanted another kind, or something else. This little boy had a very kind father and mother, who loved him very much, and who tried to make him happy. They bought him good clothes to wear: they gave him good things to eat whenever he was hungry, and they bought him a great many pretty playthings. But though they were so kind, this boy was sometimes so naughty as to cry when they gave him a new plaything, because he had wanted a bunch of jack-straws, perhaps, instead of a pretty box of wooden blocks. If they had bought him some jack-straws, he would have wanted the blocks or something else. Nobody liked to give Charles any playthings or sugar-plums or any thing, because they did not make him happy: and they did not make him happy because he would not be pleased, but always thought of something else which he fancied he would rather have.

One day, Charles’ mother came into the room where he was playing, and said, “Charles, little brother William is going to walk with Susan. Should you like to go too?”

“Yes,” said he, “but I shall want to wear my new cap.”

“But I told you the other day,” said his mother, “that you could not wear it for a whole week again, because you threw it upon the floor when you came in yesterday, instead of hanging it on the nail.”

“Then I don’t want to go,” said Charles.

“Very well,” said his mother, and calling to Susan, she told her she need not wait any longer.

“But I _shall_ want to go,” said Charles, beginning to cry.

“You must not go now,” said his mother, “for you said you did not want to go, just because you felt contrary, and out of humor.”

His mother then sat down to work. Charles, finding it was useless to cry, dried his tears, and began throwing his playthings about the room.

“Don’t you do so,” said his mother, “you will break that pretty box, and your white cards, with the pretty colored letters, will get soiled, and not fit to be used.”

“I don’t care if they do,” said Charles, “it is not a pretty box, and I don’t like the cards.”

His mother rose, took away all his playthings, and left him sitting upon the floor, with nothing to do. As she took no notice of his cross looks, he presently went to the window, and stood on a little cricket, looking to see the horses and carriages passing, and soon he began to feel pleasantly again.

“Oh! mother,” said he, “there are two beautiful little dogs in the street, and a little boy running after them. Oh! how I should like a little dog. Mother, will you buy me one?” and he ran to his mother and looked up in her face.

His mother laid down her work, and took him in her lap. “What would you do with a dog,” said she, “if you had one?”

“Oh! I should play with him; I would put some things in my cart, and tie the dog to it, and let him draw it to market; just like the dog in William’s picture.”

“But I am afraid,” said his mother, “that if your father should buy you a dog you would sometimes get out of humor with him, and then you would say it was an ugly dog, and you did not want it any more.”

“No, I would not,” said Charles; “I should always love my little dog.”

“So you said, if I would buy you a new cap, you would be a good boy, and never give me any trouble about it; but yesterday you forgot your promise, and did not put it where it belongs; and to-day you have made me very unhappy by your bad temper. And you have displeased God too, for he was looking directly into your heart when you said you did not want to go with Susan, and saw that you were saying what was not true.”

“But I will remember next time, if you will only get me a little dog.”

Just then William came into the room with a large piece of cake in his hand, which a lady had given him. He went up to his brother, and breaking it in two pieces offered him one of them.

“No, I want the other piece,” said Charles.

“But I can’t give it to you,” said William; “I want it myself.”

“Then I won’t have any,” said Charles, impatiently.

“Keep all the cake yourself, William,” said his mother; “Charles must not have any, because he is not a good boy.”

“But I do want some,” said Charles, beginning to cry very loud. Then his mother went to the door, and calling Susan, told her to take Charles into the other room, and keep him there until he was perfectly pleasant and good-humored. So you see Charles lost a pleasant walk, and a nice piece of cake; and, after all, had to be sent away from his kind mother just because he would be a contrary boy. Do you think he was happy?

The next afternoon, as these two little boys were playing in the yard, they looked up, and saw a carriage, drawn by two large, white horses, stop at the door. It was their aunt’s. She had brought her little son and daughter, named James and Mary, to spend the afternoon with their cousins. As soon as they were out of the carriage, they ran to their cousins, and all looked as happy as if they were expecting to have a noble, good time; and so they were.

Their aunt went into the house, and the children played together out in the yard. When they were tired of that, they went into the mowing field, where the hay was spread to dry, and began to throw it upon each other. This they enjoyed very much till Charles began to cry, and say they should not throw the hay upon him. He wanted to _pelt_ the others, but was not willing to have them pelt him. So this contrary boy spoilt the whole play, and he cried so loud that his mother had to call him into the house. When he was gone, James lay down in the hay, and told his sister and cousin to cover him up in it. When he was hidden entirely, so that they could not see him, he jumped up suddenly, and ran to catch them with an arm full of hay, to _pay_ them for treating him so. They laughed very loud, and were very happy, now they had no one to disturb them with crying. They were soon called in to tea.

Charles had not been very well in the morning, and his mother was afraid to give him as many strawberries in his milk as she did the rest. So Charles began to cry, and said he would not have any. His mother then sent him out of the room, and did not allow him to return until his cousins had gone.

You see how many pleasant things he lost by being so contrary. His mother said she could not buy him a dog until he had learned to be a good, pleasant boy. His cousins said they did not want to go and see him again, for he spoiled their play; and when his mother went to see his aunt, she took William, but left Charles at home. She said she could not take him with her until he was willing to do as others wished to have him, and not always cry to have his own way. By and by, Charles learned that it was better to be pleasant all the time, and not get out of humor when things did not exactly suit him; and then every body loved him, for he was a good little boy in every other respect.

FROST ON THE WINDOWS.

Charles was a little boy. One cold winter’s morning his mother brought him down stairs. It was very early. She put him down on the carpet, before a bright, warm fire. Then she opened the shutters to see if it was light. Charles saw something white and shining upon the windows, and called to her, and said, “Oh, mother, mother, how beautiful! See how the windows are painted all white. _There_ is a mountain, and another,--and--and I see another on the top of it; and there are some trees, and flowers--and--”

“Yes, they are very beautiful,” said Charles’ mamma, as she stood dressing her little boy.

“What makes it look so? It isn’t light like day,--and oh! mother, see, there is a bright star in the sky!”

“It is not quite daylight yet; pretty soon it will grow lighter, and the little star will not look so bright, and then the sky will grow brighter, and it will be daylight.”

“What is it now; is it night?”

“No, it is day-dawn.”

“Day-dawn;--well, it’s very pretty, I think, mother. O, see, there’s a cow! I think those are pictures painted on the window, aren’t they?”

“No, they are not pictures. Don’t you know what they are?”

“I see something that looks like a horse that hasn’t got any head, and some trees that haven’t got any branches, and a great many more mountains and rocks. I think they are pictures, but they look white, just like snow.”

“Well, Charles, the cold made those pictures. We call it frost on the windows, and it came last night while we were all asleep. It was very cold indeed last night, and a great many things froze very hard. Now hark, what do you hear?”

“Hark! I hear something that ticks just like a watch. What is it?”

“It is the cold frost which has frozen some water in the tumbler. Last night it was water, and I drank some of it. Now look here; it is ice, and it looks very beautiful. See all those little marks and spots. Those are little bubbles. Now it goes _click, click_, again. See how hard it is; I cannot break it with my finger.”

“Mother, will the frost stay all day on the windows, or go away when it is daylight?”

“Not when it is daylight, but when the room is warm. There is a good, bright fire in the grate, and it will make the room warm, and by and by the sun will rise out of doors and shine on the glass, and warm it, and the frost will melt. Then it will be water and run down in drops.”

“Well, I think it is very pretty frost, and I don’t think I could make such horses, and trees, and cows.”

SHOOTING A BEAR.

Once there was a foolish man, who was always afraid of bears. He was always afraid there were bears in the woods around him, and that they would come and eat him up.

One day he thought he would take his gun and go out and shoot a bear. So he took down his gun, and put in some powder to load it, and then he put in some paper to keep the powder in, and then he put in a bullet over that. The bullet was a round, heavy thing, like a round stone. He put another piece of paper in next, to keep the bullet down. How do you suppose he got the paper down to the bottom of his gun? Why, he had a long, slender iron, which he called his ramrod, and he pushed the paper down with his long, slender ramrod. Then he pulled the ramrod out, and slid it into its proper place by the side of his gun.

Did you ever see any gunpowder? When you set it on fire, it flashes up very quick. There is a picture of some boys burning gunpowder in Rollo Learning to Talk. If the gunpowder is in a close place when it is set on fire, it bursts out violently, and makes a noise. This man’s gun was a close place, and he expected that when he should see the bear, he should point his gun at the bear, and then set fire to the powder down in the bottom of his gun, and that the powder would flash and burst out, and drive out the round, heavy bullet, and make it _whiz_ through the air very swiftly, and go into the bear and kill him.

But how do you think he was going to set fire to the powder which was away down in the bottom of his gun, under the paper and the bullet? I will tell you how. There was a little hole, a very little one, in the side of his gun, opposite where the powder was, and he put a little powder into that hole. The name of the hole is the touch-hole. Close by that hole there were some things fixed which would strike together and make sparks. They would strike together when he pulled a little thing. The little thing he pulled was the trigger. So that when he should be all ready, and should have the gun pointing at the bear, he would only pull the trigger, and that would make the flint and steel strike together, and that would make sparks which would fall upon the powder in the little touch-hole, and it would burn in, quick, with a flash, and set the powder in the gun on fire, and that would drive the bullet out, and make it whiz through the air and kill the bear. That is the way the man expected to shoot. That is the way they always shoot.

Just before he was ready to shoot, he always had to pull back the flint, so as to get the flint and the trigger in the right place, and when he did this it would say _click_. This would be _cocking_ his gun. Then it would be ready to fire.

When the gun was all ready excepting being cocked, the man put it on his shoulder, and went off into the woods. He looked all about him, but for a long time he could not see any bear. At last he saw a strange looking thing up in a tree, among the leaves.

“I wonder,” said he, “if that is not a bear.”

It looked rather strangely, and he could not tell what it was if it was _not_ a bear. So he thought he might as well shoot it. He accordingly took down his gun from his shoulder, and pulled back the flint, and heard it say _click_. Then he pointed the gun up towards the strange looking thing in the tree, and he pulled the trigger. _Crackle_ went the sparks, _flash_ went the powder in the touch-hole, _pop_ went the gun, _whiz_ went the bullet through the air, and the man looked, expecting to see the bear fall down dead from the tree.

Instead of that he could see, when the smoke cleared away a little, that the strange looking thing appeared exactly as it did before. He went round a little to see it better, and what do you think it was? Why, it was only a crooked branch of the tree.

“Ah,” said he, “I made a mistake. I ought to have waited until I saw whether it moved. Bears move. Next time I will not fire at any thing unless it moves.”