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GETTING UP IN THE MORNING.
“Unpleasant!” says the Sponge, “very unpleasant to be squeezed like
this.”
“Nonsense, you stupid thing,” says the water; “what are you made
for I should like to know, if not to be squeezed. You are not nice
soft, lukewarm water like me.”
“Don’t talk so much, but mind your own business, and think how I
go on rubbing,” says the soapy Flannel; “rub, rub! if I didn’t rub so
hard we should never make a clean little girl.”
“I am glad to say that this little ear is quite clean now,” says the
Towel, slyly; “now we have only the other one to do. I have rubbed
the little pink cheeks till they glow again.”
314
“First this little right shoulder, and then the left,” says the little clean
shirt. “How white and dimpled they are! it is quite a pleasure to
touch them: I think they must belong to a very good child.”
“Well, we haven’t got any thinner either in the night,” exclaim the
socks to the little round fat waddling legs.
“Come, come, come, little horse, and be shod!” say the shoes.
Up comes the brush, bristling finely. “Let me see what I can do
here,” says he; and soon the pretty golden locks are disentangled.
And comb giving his assistance, a nice parting is made, and then
Brush says, “I think we have done our work very nicely.”
“Over the head without spoiling the pretty curls,” says the Petticoat.
“Yes, that’s the way we do it.”
“Now I’m coming!” says the little Frock, like a person of importance
for whom all the rest have been waiting. It knows quite well it is a
pretty blue frock, all trimmed with braid, and that the little 315
child chose the stuff to make it; and that it is her favourite
frock.
“Now, if you please, I must come, for I am quite as important, if not
so gay as you,” says the pinafore; “besides, I have two little
pockets.”
“I live in one,” says the Pocket-handkerchief, “and before I get into
it, I should like very much to know if the little nose is quite nice and
tidy.”
Mr. Pocket-handkerchief being quite satisfied, a chorus of voices
shout, “All ready now!”
“Ah! but here is a tear, a stupid little tear, on my darling’s face. Never
mind, I’ll kiss it off,” says Mamma, who came into the nursery at that
minute.
316
AFTER SUNSET.
The sun has set, the sky is calm,
And yonder uplands dim,
With all the little trees, stand out
A sharp and fringe-like rim.
A roll of clouds like indigo 317
Hangs in the lower sky,
All edged above with crimson fire,
And piled up gloriously.
And far behind are flakes and flaws,
And streaks of purest red;
And feathery dashes, paling slow,
Still linger overhead.
And far, far off—how far it looks!—
The sky is green and clear,
And still in front a little flight
Of black clouds saileth near.
Oh! wondrous sight! oh! joyous hour!
Ye workmen passing by,
Why stay ye not your boisterous mirth
To gaze upon the sky?
Ye merry children playing near,
Why stop ye not your play,
To see how God with glory crowns
The closing of the day?
Oh! would that they whose weary minds
The things of sense enthral,
Upon whose lives but scanty rays
Of grace and beauty fall,—
Would that they knew what noble store
Of purest joy and love
Is given to bless the poor man’s lot,
And lift his heart above.
318
MAMMA’S SUNDAY TALK.
MIRACLES OF OUR SAVIOUR:
TEN LEPERS HEALED.
One of the most common faults—or rather, I should say, one of the
most common sins—that we meet with in the world, is that of
ingratitude. Some are ungrateful from pride or conceit, thinking that
the kindnesses or services of others are due to them of right. But
most people are ungrateful simply from thoughtlessness: yet this
very thoughtlessness—the want of thought for others—has 319
its root in what is the foundation of all faults—selfishness.
Even in dumb creatures—from whom, by the way, we may often
learn good lessons—we seldom see ingratitude. If you are kind and
gentle to a dog or cat, a horse or bird, it will be thankful, and
generally manage in its own fashion to make you understand its
gratitude. My darling children, never be ungrateful! Be grateful to
God first of all—be grateful to God for everything. Be grateful to your
father and mother; and be grateful also to all those who show so
many kindnesses to you. Never forget to thank them both with heart
and lip.
I am going to tell you to-day of an instance of man’s ingratitude: not
that of man to man, but of ingratitude to our Lord Jesus Christ.
We are told by St. Luke that,—“It came to pass as Jesus went to
Jerusalem, He passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee. And
as He entered into a certain village, there met Him ten men that
were lepers, which stood afar off; and they lifted up their voices,
and said, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.’ And when He saw them,
He said unto them, ‘Go, show yourselves unto the priests.’ And it
came to pass that, as they went, they were cleansed.”
I must tell you that this leprosy, with which these poor people were
afflicted, was a terrible disease common among the Jews at that
time. It was a disease of the skin, which was hereditary, and also
was caught by contagion. Hence those afflicted with it were
prohibited by strict laws from associating with other people. They
might not enter the walled cities at all, and in the villages they were
obliged to live apart from the other inhabitants. You see these lepers
“stood afar off” while they cried out to Jesus for mercy.
We must suppose that before anyone recovering from the leprosy
was allowed to associate with his fellow-citizens, he had to go before
the priests, that they should pronounce him cured; and this 320
explains the injunction of our Saviour—“Go, show yourselves
to the priests.” The lepers had faith, and turned at once to obey.
They had scarcely moved a step when the change in their condition
seems to have taken place; and we may imagine their joy and
surprise, on looking at each other, to see the ghastly and loathsome
hue of the leprous skin change for the bloom and freshness of
health. But now we come to the sad instance of ingratitude.
St. Luke goes on to tell us—still speaking of the lepers:—“And one of
them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a
loud voice glorified God; and fell down on his face at Jesus’ feet,
giving Him thanks.”
Thus we find, out of these ten, one only showed himself grateful,
and thought, before aught else, of glorifying God, and giving thanks
to Jesus. The other nine, in their joy at the blessing which had just
been bestowed upon them, forgot the Bestower of that blessing.
They hastened on, thinking only of their own good fortune, and
eager to make known their recovery to the priests, that they might
be restored to communication with their fellow men.
Our Saviour only remarked upon this instance of ingratitude:—“Were
there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine?”
321
SOME OF MY LITTLE FRIENDS:
Charlie.
I made the acquaintance of my little friend Charlie under very
unusual and startling circumstances. When I saw him for the first
time he was situated as you see him in the picture. I saw a lad
about thirteen years of age, clinging desperately, for very life, to the
topmast of a sunken ship in the British Channel. I will tell you how it
happened.
I must go back nearly twenty years;—indeed, I ought to 322
explain that Charlie was a little friend of mine a long time
ago; now he’s a grown-up man. Well, twenty years ago I was not
very old myself; but my sister, who is some years older than I am,
was already married, and her husband was very fond of yachting.
They lived, during a great part of the year, in the Isle of Wight, and
there I often used to go to stay with them.
The “Swallow”—that was the name of my brother-in-law’s yacht—
was a beautiful boat, and many happy hours have I passed on board
her, as she skimmed merrily over the sparkling water. I delighted to
sit on deck, watching the fishing-boats as they rode bravely from
wave to wave; or sometimes wondering at some large ship, as it
passed by, on which men live for weeks and months without ever
touching land. We used to sail long distances, and occasionally be
out for several days and nights together. My brother-in-law’s skipper
could tell me what country almost every vessel that we saw was
bound for. Some were sailing to climates where the heat is so great
that our most sultry summer in England is comparatively cold; others
were off northward, perhaps whale-fishing, where they would see
huge icebergs, and hear the growling of the polar bears.
We were taking our last cruise of the season: it was already near the
end of October, and the weather was becoming stormy. Passing out
of the Solent into the Channel, we found the sea much rougher than
we expected; and as night came on it blew a regular gale. The wind
and sea roared, the rain poured down in torrents, and the night
seemed to me to be the darkest I had ever known. But on board the
“Swallow” we had no fear; we trusted to the seamanship of our
skipper and the goodness of our vessel, and went to bed with minds
as free from fear as if the sea were smooth and the sky clear.
I awoke just as dawn was breaking, dressed quickly, and 323
throwing a water-proof cloak over me, popped my head up
the companion-ladder to see how things looked. The old skipper was
on deck; he had not turned in during the night. I wished him good-
morning, and he remarked, in return, that the wind was going down,
he thought. Looking at the sea, I observed two or three large
fragments of wood floating near, and they attracted his notice at the
same moment.
“Has there been a wreck, captain?” I asked, with a feeling of awe.
“That’s about what it is, miss,” answered the old seaman.
“Do you think the people are drowned?” I inquired anxiously.
“Well,” replied Captain Bounce, casting, as I thought, rather a
contemptuous glance at me, “people don’t in general live under
water, miss.”
“Perhaps they may have had boats,” I said meekly. “Do you think
boats could have reached the shore in such a storm?”
“Well,” answered the old captain, “they might have had boats and
they mightn’t; and the boats, supposing they had ’em, might have
lived through the storm, and at the same time they mightn’t.”
This was not giving me much information, and I thought to myself
that my friend the skipper did not seem so much inclined for a chat
as usual; I turned to look at the sea in search of more pieces of
wreck, when I discovered, in the distance, a dark speck rising out of
the water. I pointed it out to the skipper at once, who took his glass
out of his pocket, and, after looking through it for a moment,
exclaimed,—
“There’s something floating there, and a man clinging to it, as I’m
alive!”
As he spoke, my brother-in-law came on deck, and also took a look
through the telescope. Then he, the captain, and every sailor on
board became eager and excited; you would have thought it 324
was some dear friend of each whose life was to be saved.
The yacht was headed in the direction of the object, the boat was
quickly lowered, the captain himself, with four sailors, jumping into
it; and, in another minute, they caught in their arms a poor little
exhausted and fainting boy, as he dropped from the mast of a large
sunken ship. We could now distinguish the tops of all the three
masts appearing above the waves; for the sea was not deep, and
the ship had settled down in an upright position.
Poor Charlie Standish was soon in the cabin of the yacht, and after
swallowing some champagne he revived sufficiently to tell us his
story. The sunken ship was the “Melbourne,” bound for Australia,
and this was Charlie’s first voyage as a midshipman on board. During
the darkness of the night she had been run into by a large
homeward-bound merchantman of the same class. She sank within
an hour of the collision. In the scramble for the boats Charlie
thought he had but little chance for finding a place; and as the ship
filled, and kept sinking deeper in the water, an instinct of self-
preservation led him to climb into the rigging. Then up he went,
higher and higher, even to the topmast; and at last, when the vessel
went down all at once, he found himself, to his inexpressible relief,
still above the surface.
What most astonished us all was that a boy so young should have
been able to hold on for more than an hour to a slippery mast,
exposed to the fury of the wind, and within reach, even, of the
lashing waves. We sailed home at once to the Isle of Wight, and
wrote to the boy’s mother, a widow living in London, to tell her of his
safety. The boy himself stayed with us two or three days. My
brother-in-law took a great fancy to him; he has watched his career,
and seen him at intervals, ever since. Charlie Standish is now a chief
mate on board a great merchantman of the same class as the
“Melbourne.”
325
PUZZLE-PAGE.
Now find out this puzzle page, children. Two of these objects begin
with C, one with M, one with O, one with P, and one with S. Try if
you can find out what they all are.
326
327
A SONG FOR AUTUMN.
[play]
Andantino.
1.
Good-bye, daisy pink, and rose, and snow-white lily too;
Every pretty flower that blows, here’s a kiss for you.
Good-bye, merry bird and bee, and take this tiny song....
For the ones you sang to me all the summer long.
2.
Good-bye, mossy little rill, that shivers in the cold;
Leaves, that fall on vale and hill, cover you with gold.
Good-bye, pretty birds that roam, and rills, and flowers, and trees;
But when winter’s gone, come home; come whene’er you please.
328
329
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