Part 7

FATHER. Even when we cannot perceive the perspiration, there is what is called _insensible_ perspiration, by which, in a state of health, about twenty ounces of waste matter are daily removed. When a person takes a sudden cold, this perspiration is checked, and the waste matter accumulates, and causes sickness. Perspiration takes place with much more regularity when the body is kept perfectly clean, than when it is allowed to remain dirty; and from this we can see how necessary it is to bathe the body thoroughly and frequently, and also that we ought to avoid exposing ourselves to take cold.

ALBERT. I thank you, father, for explaining these things, and will try to remember them.

CHARLES. And so do I: and I hope that another evening we shall learn much more.

VOICES FROM NATURE.

CHILD.

"River, river, stay and tell me, Whither going with such speed?"

RIVER.

"No, I cannot stop, for onward I must go, the sea to feed. I am one of many others,-- To the same great deep we go, Pouring into it for ever, Yet it doth not overflow."

CHILD.

"Little brook, stay still a moment, Dancing neath the summer sun, With such sweet and pleasant music, Tell me, whither do you run?"

BROOK.

"I am hastening to the river, And I cannot longer stay, I am one of many others, Who must feed it day by day."

CHILD.

"Little rill, which down the mountain, Like a silver thread dost flow, Tell me now before you leave me, Why you are in haste to go?"

RILL.

"Downward, downward, little maiden, Is a voice that bids me speed, Where a little brook is waiting, Which my limpid drops must feed. I am one of many others, And when Spring's first hours awake, Into life and motion springing, To the plains our course we take."

CHILD.

"Rain-drops, which so fast are falling, Patter, patter, on the ground, Much I love to stand and watch you, Much I love your merry sound; But I pray you stop and tell me, On what mission you are bound?"

RAIN.

"Humble as our mission seemeth, Maiden, to your thoughtful eye, Yet for good, by God's appointment, Drop by drop, I fall from high; And, without me, mightiest rivers Soon would leave their channels dry." Musing, then, the little maiden, Inward for a moral turned, Where, to light the spirit temple, Truth upon her altar burned. "Rain," she said, "from heaven descending, Feeds the little fountain rill: Onward, onward, all are hastening, Never for a moment still. Rill, and brook, and mighty river, All to the deep ocean go; All the thirsty river swallows,-- Yet it doth not overflow." Child, thou seekest from this a moral, Ask of Truth, and thou shalt know.

KING ALFRED.

Alfred was one of the early kings of England, distinguished for his wisdom and virtue. In his childhood he was very much indulged by his parents, and his education was neglected, but he engaged in study of his own accord, and became an eminent scholar in his youth; although in those days there were no printed books, and few means of instruction of any kind.

When he became king, after the death of his father, his country was suffering from the invasion of the Danes; and Alfred spent a considerable part of his life in wars with them. These Danes came over in swarms from the continent of Europe, under different leaders; and they succeeded in defeating the armies sent out against them, one after another, and in extending their ravages over so many parts of the kingdom, that the people of the island were reduced to despair. The army was dispersed, and Alfred had to fly and conceal himself, to save his life. He finally went to service in the family of a herdsman,--a sort of farmer, who had care of the cattle,--where he was once well scolded by the herdsman's wife for letting some cakes burn. Hume, the historian, relates the story in the following language:--

"The wife of the neat-herd was ignorant of the condition of our royal guest, and observing him one day busy by the fireside, in trimming his bow and arrows, she desired him to take care of some cakes which were toasting, while she was employed elsewhere, in other domestic affairs. But Alfred, whose thoughts were otherwise engaged, neglected his injunction; and the good woman, on her return, finding her cakes all burnt, rated the king very severely, and upbraided him, that he always seemed very well pleased to eat her warm cakes, though he was thus negligent in toasting them."

After this, Alfred contrived to collect some of his followers, and to conceal himself with them in the centre of a vast tract of swampy land. The piece of firm ground on which he established his company, contained only about two acres. Here he remained a year, though he often went on excursions against the enemy. Finally, his strength increased, so that he was prepared to adopt still more decisive measures. He accordingly formed a plan for a general mustering of the forces of the kingdom, in order to make a combined and effectual attack upon the Danes. At this time, another incident occurred, which has helped to make Alfred famous. He concluded, before summoning the army together, that he would go into the camp of the Danes, in disguise, in order to see what their strength and condition were. So he procured a harp, and dressed himself in the disguise of a harper. In those days, harpers were accustomed to wander about towns and armies, playing for the amusement of those who would pay them. Alfred seems to have acted his part very successfully. He not only entertained the soldiers and officers with his harp, but he amused them with tales and jokes, and finally he made his way into the tent of Guthrum, the general. There, Alfred learned all he wished to know, and then returned to his own camp. This was a very dangerous experiment, for if anything had occurred even to arouse the suspicions of the Danes, he would have been hung at once.

Immediately after this, Alfred sent messengers through the kingdom and called his army together, and, after several battles, expelled the Danes from the country. He then evinced great wisdom in the arrangements which he made for reducing the kingdom to regular order. He founded the most useful institutions, and restored the dominion of law and public tranquillity. He has been always regarded as a great benefactor of the English nation.

GRACE MIDDLETON.

Grace was returning from a distant part of the country to her own loved home; she had been living with a relation, and a long time had passed since she had heard from, or listened to the gentle voice of her parents; (there was no mail in that part of the country;) and as she drew near to each loved haunt of her early childhood, her heart beat quick with sweet anticipations of delight. She fancied her brother and sister very much grown, but still as loving and happy as when she last sported with them on the grass-plat by the cottage door. It was evening when Grace descended the long, sloping hill, at the foot of which was an extensive avenue of tall oak trees, leading directly to the cottage, and the declining sun cast a melancholy shadow over the face of this well-remembered spot, once resounding with the shouts of happy infancy.

The heart of Grace grew sad as she drew near the cottage, and she wondered very much that no one was in sight. At length she hears the well-known bark of old Carlo;--"but where are my parents, my brother and sister! I thought to find them _all_ here; where are they?"

Alas! alas! she soon ascertained they were all gone; all, save her aged grandfather, who comes with feeble step to embrace and welcome her. "The Lord bless you, my child, and blessed be his name for restoring you to me in my old age; come with me, and let us give thanks to our heavenly Father, for all his blessings. It is true he has seen best to remove those we love most from us; but it is all right, my child, all right;" and he led her into the cottage, where the evening meal was spread for them by the kind old housekeeper; but it was a sad meal for Grace, and she soon hastened to her chamber to weep and meditate on the change which had taken place in her absence, and to think of what she ought to do.

It was the spring of the year--and when Grace arose from her bed the next morning, and looked forth from the window of her little room, and saw all Nature smiling with beauty, she felt refreshed; and as she gazed on the beautiful flowers that grew beneath her window, and listened to the songs of the birds, and the gentle murmurs of the little stream which watered the garden, she felt that she had much to be thankful for, and that good spirits were near to make her happy; and when she met her old grandfather in the library, where it was the custom to assemble the family for morning prayers, her eyes expressed the peace and devotion which she felt; and while they partook of the repast prepared for them, in the well-remembered breakfast-room, they talked over the trying events of the past with humble resignation. Grace was very thankful to find that she could, in various ways, make herself useful to her only relation; and in arranging the occupation of her time, the garden was to be under her care--to employ and amuse her as one of her principal things; and in a short time, she had made so many improvements, that her grandfather said it was quite a little paradise.

The rivulet, which flowed through the garden, had many flowers growing on its borders; and here Grace delighted to ramble, for it reminded her of other and happy days, when she had been used to gather the flowers, with her little sisters, to make nosegays for her parents.

One day, when she was walking beneath the trees of the garden, she saw a beautiful bird building its nest on one of the branches. This was a new source of delight to her; and when the nest was finished, and a little brood of beautiful birds were heard chirping in the trees, Grace thought there was but one thing more she desired, and that was a pleasant seat for her grandfather, where he might sit in the heat of the day, and enjoy his nap, or read his favourite book undisturbed; so she built him a bower, and planted the choicest flowers about it, and watered them morning and evening, that they might grow and flourish; and while she did so, she prayed that _good affections_ might grow in her own heart, and expand like these flowers; and they did so, for, as she grew in years, she grew in wisdom and love.

* * * * *

Several years passed in this peaceful retirement and the care of her good grandfather,--who was now quite old, and whose white locks and feeble step reminded her that _he_ would be called to join those who had gone before him. But for this she was prepared; for he had often spoken to her of death--he had made this subject familiar to her, and he had tried as much as possible to elevate her mind above the grave, that she might think of her departed friends as near to her, and still living in a more perfect state; and she knew it would be far better for him to go and live with his heavenly Father, than to remain in this world, even though they might continue to be very happy together; and when his last hour on earth _did_ come, it was so full of peace and holy confidence in the Saviour of man, that she was assisted to feel and say, "Father, thy will be done;" and as she knelt by his bed-side to receive his blessing, she felt conscious that ministering angels were present, and gently removing his spirit from earth to heaven.

SHELLS.

"Well, Henry, where have you been? I have not seen you this morning."

"I have been with papa, and he has given me this little box full of shells. Look, mamma, how very pretty they are. Papa says they are found in the sea, and that little fish live in them! Can fish live in these very small ones, mamma?"

"Yes, my dear, a fish has lived in each of these little shells. I have sometimes picked them up on the beach with the fish in them; but they are generally washed on shore when the sea is rough, and the fish dies and falls out of the shell before it is picked up; as fish, you know, cannot live out of the water. Some day I will show you a very beautiful shell, which I have in my cabinet; it is the shell of the paper nautilus, which is a very curious little fish. I have heard that it was this fish which first gave men the idea of building ships to sail on the sea. These fish have two arms, or horns, which they put out of their shells, and stretch a kind of skin across them, which makes a little sail, just like the sail of a ship. They then stretch two more arms out of the shell, which they use as oars or paddles; and when the sea is calm they amuse themselves by sailing about on the water, and look very pretty; but if a storm comes on, they draw in their horns and their little sails, and sink to the bottom."

"Have you ever seen them sailing about, mamma?"

"No, Henry, I have not, because I have not been much on the sea; but they are often seen by sailors, who, you know, are almost always at sea. There are a great many curious fish in the sea, some very large indeed, and others very small; about many of which I shall be happy to tell you more at some future time."

EMULATION.

A CONVERSATION BETWEEN HENRY AND HIS FATHER.

"What is the matter, Henry?" asked Mr. Carey of his son, who looked more sober than usual, one day, after his return from school.

"I don't feel happy," Henry replied, looking up into his father's face with an effort to smile. "But I suppose it is my own fault, although I can't help it."

"Has anything very particular happened?"

"No, sir. Nothing very particular. Only I've been next to head in my class for a week."

"Next to head! Why, I thought you had been at the head of your class for the last three or four months."

"So I have been until within a week. But, since then, do all I can, Herbert Wellmore keeps his place above me."

"And this is the reason of your unhappiness?"

"Yes, sir."

"But do you think it is a just cause of unhappiness?"

"I always feel bad if I am not first in everything, father."

"Do you think it right to feel so, Henry?"

"Is it not right, father, for me to excel others in every way?"

"Yes, if it is in your power to do so; for then you can be more useful than any one else. But, it seems that Herbert Wellmore can excel you--and I suppose he does so fairly."

"Oh, yes. It is fair enough--and that is just what I don't like. It shows that he can do better than I can."

"Then he will have it in his power to be more useful to his fellow-men than you. And should not this make you glad instead of discontented?"

"I didn't think anything about that, father."

"So I supposed--if you had so thought, you would, probably, never have been willing to have seen your school-fellow. But why does this circumstance make you unhappy?"

"I don't like any one to get ahead of me."

"Why?"

Henry tried to determine in his own mind the reason, but was unable to do so. Mr. Carey saw this, and added:

"Don't you think that selfishness has something to do with it? Wounded self-love, I have before told you, is a frequent cause of our unhappiness. Now, think again, and try if you cannot determine the reason why you wished to excel all others in your class."

"That I might be thought to be the smartest boy in it, I suppose."

"Would you not call that a mere selfish feeling?"

"I suppose so. And yet ought I not to try and keep ahead?"

"Certainly, as I have said before. But you should not feel the slightest pain if another boy excels you fairly. Suppose every boy were to be disturbed in mind, as you have been, because other boys were in advance;--don't you see that every boy in a class, but one, would be unhappy? And would that be right? None of us, my son, have minds alike. This, you know, I have before explained to you, and also the reason why it is so. Now, do you remember that reason?"

"It is because in society there are various uses, all requiring a different order of talent. Is not that the reason?"

"Yes, my son; that is the reason, and I am glad you have remembered so correctly what I told you a few days ago. From this you may see that there is always something that one person will be able to do better than another; and, of course, one kind of knowledge that he will be able to acquire more easily than another. Have you not, yourself, noticed, that while one boy excels in penmanship, another, who cannot learn to write even a fair hand, will far outstrip this one in arithmetic?--and a third go ahead of the other two in acquiring a correct geographical knowledge?--A fourth delights most in the study of navigation and surveying, while a dull boy, in almost everything else, can acquire a knowledge of chemical laws more rapidly than any in his class. You have, of course, observed all this?"

"Oh, yes, frequently. There is Thomas Wiley, for instance, who, in spelling, reading, and writing, is always behind every one else; and yet no one can answer more questions in geography, or project so beautiful a map, as he can. Charles Lee has no trouble at all with the hardest question in algebra; but is deficient in grammar, and hates his Latin and Greek more than any punishment or reprimand the teacher can give. And, now I think of it, I don't know any two boys in school who are alike in regard to learning their lessons."

"Do you not think that it would be very foolish in Thomas Wiley to make himself unhappy because he could not write so pretty a hand as you do? Or for Charles Lee to forget all his skill at solving algebraic problems, in making himself miserable because he was behind another boy in Latin and Greek, whose mind was peculiarly fitted for the acquirement of language, while his was not?"

"I certainly think it would, father."

"Then bring this home to yourself. Is there no one thing in which you can excel Herbert Wellmore?"

"Yes, sir. I can solve a problem in half the time it takes him to do it in. But, then, he is always correct--and so gets as much as I do from the teacher, who does not seem to take into account my superior quickness."

"In this, I need hardly point out to you, my son, the selfish principle that influences you. Instead of feeling grateful to your heavenly Father for having given you the ability to work out a difficult problem with half the labour it costs another, you are unhappy because this superior ability is not praised, and you, in consequence, held up to view as deserving of more commendation than Herbert; when, in fact, he is the one who should be praised for his steady perseverance in overcoming difficulties that are as nothing to you."

"I believe I have permitted myself to indulge in wrong feelings," Henry said, after remaining silent for a few moments. "But I think you have told me that emulation is not to be condemned."

"It certainly is not, my son. I would have you, as now, emulous of superior acquirements; but, at the same time, aware, that in this emulation there would be no jealousy or unkind feelings. Be first in everything, if possible,--and yet willing to see others excel you,--remembering, that in so excelling they will have the power to be more useful to mankind; for the true power that resides in knowledge is the power of doing good."

A NURSE'S SONG.

The voice of children is heard on the green, And laughing is heard on the hill; When my heart is at rest within my breast, And everything else is still. "Now, come home, my children, the sun is down, And the dews of night fall fast; Come, leave off play, and let us away, Till the morning appears in the east." No, no, let us play, for it is yet day-- And we cannot go to sleep; Besides, in the sky, the little birds fly, And the hills are all covered with sheep. "Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, And _then_ go home to rest." The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed, And all the hills echoed for joy.

THE SHEPHERD AND THE FAIRY.

A shepherd, who was of an unfortunately discontented turn of mind,--one who was much fonder of reclining lazily on a sunny bank, than of viewing his own lot on its sunny side--was one day moodily watching his flock, wishing himself all the while its owner instead of guardian; in other words, a happier man. His faithful dog lay beside him, and every now and then licked the hand of his master, as it hung listlessly by his side, and then looked up into his face, as if to read his thoughts. But the shepherd was in no humour to stroke the shaggy hide of his friend, Keeper--his envious musings having been diverted to the sleek coat of his master's hunter, which had just bounded, with its wealthy rider, over an adjacent hedge. The sullen tender of flocks was all at once roused from his reverie by the small, silvery voice of a sprightly little fairy.

"What ails thee, my good man?" said she, tapping his shoulder with her wand; "you seem mighty melancholy. Have you met with any disaster?--lost anything?--perhaps your wife!"

"No such luck."

"Or some of your sheep?"

"What should I care--they're my master's."

"Your purse, then?"

"Purse!" growled the shepherd, "no great loss, if I had, for it's always empty."

"Ah! I think I can guess what's the matter," said the fairy: "you are wishing to be rich, and discontented because you are poor. But, prithee, now listen to me. Once upon a time, when we fairies used to mix much more with mankind than we do at present, we learnt many of their pernicious customs; and seeing the high store they set by money, and the uses to which they applied it, we (in an evil hour) resolved to have money of our own. Nature had ready coined it to our hands, in the gold and silver seeds of flowers, and these we stored up, and made our circulating medium. Then came amongst us, envy, avarice, dishonesty. Instead of being, as heretofore, the protectors of the beautiful flowers, we became their ravagers; instead of the most benevolent and happy little creatures in the world, we became a discontented, malevolent, and restless race. We began to dislike our native dells and dingles, and to haunt, more than ever, the habitations of man. We knew well enough, however, that the cause of all our misery had been our foolish imitation of their practices; and with a view to revenge, many a sorry trick and mischievous prank did we delight to play them--as, doubtless, you may have often heard. This, however, availed us nothing; and, at last, growing tired of such profitless vengeance, we made up our minds to return entirely to our shady recesses, and, what was better, to our ancient habits. Truly, it cost some of us not a little to part with our stores of golden treasure; but at last we all agreed to throw away our money; and having then no further use for our purses, we hung them up, as memorials of our folly, upon the most ugly and worthless weeds we could discover, where you may even now behold them."

The fairy, as she spoke, pointed out to the shepherd some mean, ragged-looking plants which grew beside him; and, sure enough, there he saw suspended, the little triangular pods or purses, of which she had been speaking.

They proved more useful to him than they had done to their former possessors; for the common weed to which they were attached, could never in future, cross his path, without reminding him of the lesson of his fairy monitress; taught by which, he soon found that, in the enjoyment of a contented mind, a light purse need not always make a heavy heart.