Page images
PDF
EPUB

the wind did it; for I should have said nothing about it, I promise you."

"I was guilty of disobedience in rolling my hoop in the garden; but I never tell a lie, John," said Henry.

"It would not have been telling a lie," said the gardener. "When your mother said the wind had broken the tulip, you had no occasion to say a word. How could that have been telling a lie?"

"It would have been just the same thing," said Henry; "for it is quite as bad to deceive any one as to tell a lie; and if I had let my mother think that it was the wind that broke the tulip, it would have been deceiving her."

"And what harm would there be in deceiving her?" said John; "it was not as if you had laid the blame on somebody else. You would have saved yourself a scolding, that is all; but if you do not care about it, why, of course, I do not."

"I do care about it," said Henry, "and am very sorry for what I have done; but it would be making the matter a great deal worse to tell my father a lie about it."

The gardener said to himself, in a sulky tone, that some folks were more nice than wise; and, taking up a watering pot, was turning away, when he heard a voice calling him back. It was Henry's father, who was on the other side of the garden wall. He had heard every word that had passed, and now came in at the gate.

"I am very glad, Henry," said he, "that you

have so proper a sense of what is right. Truth, my boy, is the best and noblest of all virtues. Those who pay a strict regard to it are sure to be esteemed and respected. I would rather lose all the flowers in my garden than have cause to think that my son would try to deceive me. To deceive either by word or deed is to be guilty of falsehood, and nothing is so mean and base.”

Then turning to the gardener, he said, "I will not keep any person about me whose word I cannot trust; therefore, John, you must quit my service this day."

Henry promised to obey his father in the future, and was much happier for having told the truth.

[blocks in formation]

I HAVE no mother! for she died

When I was very young;

But still her memory round my heart
Like morning mists has hung.

1 Pron. hộp.

2 fōks. 3 gär'dn-er. 4 shur.

5 vïrt/yuz.

They tell me of an angel form,
That watched me while I slept,
And of a soft and gentle hand

That wiped the tears I wept ;

And that same hand that held my own
When I began to walk;
The joy that sparkled in her eyes
When first I tried to talk.

They say the mother's heart is pleased
When infant charms expand;

I wonder if she thinks of me
In that bright, happy land.

I know she is in heaven now,
That holy place of rest;
For she was always good to me:
The good alone are blest.

Can I forget, when I was ill,

She kissed my burning brow, The tear that fell upon my cheek? I think I feel it now.

And I have got some little books,
She taught me how to spell;
The chiding or the kiss she gave
I still remember well.

And then she used to kneel with me, And teach me how to pray,

And raise my little hands to heaven,
And tell me what to say.

[blocks in formation]

"O DEAR me!" said little Robert Blake, as he leaned his head against the window, and looked out; "I do not think that vacation is very good fun, after all; I am tired of playing, and tired of reading. I cannot think of any thing else to do."

"What if you should try to work a little?" said his sister Mary, who sat at the other window, busily sewing. "I dare say that the men would like to have you help them rake up the hay."

"I am not going to work in vacation," said Robert. "Father told me that unless I wished to work, I need not do a single thing except to amuse myself; and I do not mean to.'

[ocr errors]

"Yes," replied Mary; "but at the same time he told you that you would find yourself very much mistaken if you thought you could be happy with

out some useful employment. He said that he should be very much surprised if you did not come and ask for something to do before the vacation was over."

"It is more pleasant to play than to work," said Robert, "whatever you may say to the contrary." "So it is, for a little while," said Mary, “but you see yourself how soon you get tired of it.”

"I shall get rested soon," said Robert, "but not with making hay. I tell you I will not work in vacation, so you need not say any more about it, sister."

Robert then took his straw hat, and went out of the house. He took his ball, and threw it against the wall a few times; but pretty soon the ball went over the shed, and he was too tired, as he said to himself, to go and get it. He then sat down in the swing; but he had no one to swing him, and it was too much work to swing himself.

He got up and took his kite, and as there was a fine wind, it soon rose to the full length of the string; but he found that it made his arms ache to hold the stick, so he wound up the string, and sat down on the steps to consider what he should do next.

It was a beautiful summer day; and as Robert looked around, he saw the little brook before his father's house glittering in the sun. It looked so merry and pleasant that he jumped up and ran down towards it, to see if he could not find something there with which to amuse himself.

He sat down for a while under a great willow

« PreviousContinue »