The Nest in the Honeysuckles, and other Stories Part 7

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I wouldn't be so mean."]

"You have no right to call me mean," replied Reuben Porter, "because I don't spend my money for candy."

"You never spend it for any thing," continued George, tauntingly.

It was true. Reuben did not spend his money. Do you suppose it was because he loved it more than other boys do?

Reuben turned slowly away, meditating upon what had occurred.

"I will not care for what George thinks," he at length said to himself; "I have four dollars now, and when I have sold my cabbages, I shall have another dollar. _I shall soon have enough_," and his heart bounded joyfully, his step recovered its elasticity and his pace quickened, as the pleasant thought removed the sting which the accusation of meanness had inflicted on his sensitive spirit.

Enough did not mean the same with Reuben as it means with grown people. It had a limit. He hastened cheerfully home, or to the place he called home. He had no father or mother there, but kind and loving friends in their stead. His father had died two years before, leaving a wife and four children without property to sustain them. Reuben was the eldest, and as he was old enough to a.s.sist in the labours of a farm, it was thought best he should leave his mother. Mr. Johnson, a neighbour took him into his family, where he soon became a great favourite.

There was one thing about the child, however, which good Mrs. Johnson regarded as a great fault. It was what she called "a spirit of h.o.a.rding." She said she never gave him an orange, or an apple, that he did not carry it to his room, instead of eating it. Perhaps his sisters at home, or dear little brother Benny, could tell what became of them.

Mrs. Johnson had noticed, too, in his drawer, a box, which was quite heavy with money. She did not believe he had bought so much as a fish-hook, since he had been in their family. If he should go on in this way he will grow up to be a miser. Mr. Johnson smiled at his wife's earnestness, and remarked that with such an example of generosity as Reuben had constantly before him, he could not believe the child was in much danger from the fault she feared. "It must be remembered," he said, "that Reuben has his own way to make in life.

He must early learn to save, or he will always be poor. There are his mother and sisters, too, who need his aid."

In various ways Reuben added to his store. When the snow came, he made nice broad paths about the house, which so attracted the notice of a neighbour, that she asked if he might be allowed to make paths for her. He rose early that he might have time for this extra work, and was well paid for his efforts. The box grew heavier from week to week.

_Reuben had almost enough._

One day there was a barrel of flour left at Mrs. Porter's. She thought there must be a mistake about it; but the man said he was directed at the store to take it to that house. Mrs. Porter went immediately to learn about it, and what was her surprise on finding her son had been the purchaser. How could he pay for a whole barrel of flour? "The money," said the merchant; "he brought in a box. It was in small bits, which took me some time to count, but there was enough."

The mother called, with a full heart, at Mrs. Johnson's, and related what had occurred. Reuben wondered why his mother should cry so. He thought she would be happy. He was sure he was happy. He had been thinking two years of that barrel of flour, and now he felt more like laughing than crying.

Those tears, n.o.ble boy, are not tears of sorrow, but of the deepest, fullest joy. You are more than repaid for your self-denial. You have persevered in your determination. You have resisted every temptation to deviate from the course which you marked out as right. You have borne meekly the charge of meanness so galling to your generous spirit, and now you receive your reward. You are happy, and so is your mother, and so are your kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.

That night, Mr. Johnson remarked to his wife, as they sat together before the cheerful fire, that he had some idea of keeping the little _miser_ and educating him. "A boy who could form such a purpose, and keep it, will, in all probability, make a useful man." After-years proved the correctness of this conclusion. Reuben is now a man of intelligence and wealth. He is one whom the world delights to honour; but among his pleasantest memories, I doubt not, is that of the barrel of flour he bought for his beloved mother.

"Filial love will never go unrewarded."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

MARY'S STORY.

Mary and Eddie had retired to their little beds. Their mother had said "good night," and had given them both a kiss. She was just leaving the room, when Eddie said to his sister,

"Now you can tell me about Jesus."

This simple remark revealed to Mrs. Dudley the subject of their conversation after she left them for the night. It gave her great pleasure, for she desires nothing so much as that her children may love the Saviour, and she knows the more they think about him, and the more they learn of his life, the more they will find him worthy of love. Mrs. Dudley offered up a silent prayer to her heavenly Father that the Holy Spirit would teach them and guide them into all truth.

She did not remain with the children to hear them as they talked together, but a few days afterwards she asked Eddie what Mary told him about Jesus. He repeated the history of his birth, of the cruel persecution of Herod, of his blameless life, and his death upon the cross.

Eddie is too young to realize much about the great love of Christ, and how much he has done for us that we may be happy, but he is not too young to love him.

I hope he will never forget the sweet story Mary told him. Jesus loves little children. He is their best friend, always ready to forgive them when they are sorry for doing wrong, and to help them when they try to do what is right.

Even now, as I am writing, I hear children singing

"There is a happy land Far far away."

The sound grows fainter and fainter--eyelids are drooping--sleep is near--the voices are hushed--the little ones are slumbering. May "holy angels guard their bed."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE SUNNY FACE, AND THE SHADY FACE; OR, JUNE AND NOVEMBER.

"How happy I am to-night! I love you so much I want to be with you all the time," said Willie to his mother, as he followed her from the dining-room to the nursery, one stormy evening.

What made Willie so happy? It was not because the day had been pleasant, and he had been permitted to enjoy himself out of doors, for a chilling snow had been falling, and Willie had been obliged to remain in the house. It was not because he was well, for many hours of the day he had been lying on the bed too ill to sit up all the time.

It was not because he had received a handsome present, for none had been given him.

There had been nothing unusual to make him so happy, excepting a thought hidden in the secret recesses of his heart. Shall I tell you what that thought was, that made his face so bright and sunny, that made his eyes sparkle, and wreathed his lips with smiles? I will tell you in his own words, and I hope you will treasure it in your heart.

If you do, your face, too, will be cheerful and smiling, and your friends will love to look upon you.

When Willie told his mother how happy he was, she put her arm around him, and drew him lovingly to her side. "What makes you so happy?" she inquired.

"I suppose it is because I have been trying to be good," he answered.

"That always makes people happy," his mother replied.

Willie is generally a good boy, but he sometimes does wrong, and wrong-doing always makes him sad. It was a great pleasure to him that he had tried to be good, and had been enabled to overcome temptation.

All children are sometimes tempted to do wrong, and it often requires a severe struggle to decide to do right. But every child who overcomes evil feels a conscious happiness and self-respect in so doing. I hope you will "try to be good." If you do, and look to Christ for strength, he will aid you, and through his grace you will be able to become conqueror over the sins that "so easily beset you."

Henry Maxwell lives in the same town with Willie, and is of the same age. These boys often play together. I regret to be obliged to say that Henry is not so good a child as Willie. He does not so promptly obey his mother, and of course he cannot be so happy. Sometimes he pouts out his lips, when his mother wishes him to do something which he does not exactly like.

I one day heard his mother talking to him about his teeth. She wished him to brush them again, as he had not done it thoroughly the first time. It was astonis.h.i.+ng to see how that fair, round face was disfigured by that ugly pout, and it was sad to hear his dissatisfied "I don't want to." When his mother insisted on obedience, Henry reluctantly complied with her wishes, closing the door behind him with great violence.

His face was not sunny and bright like Willie's, when he had tried to be good, but was dark and shady, like a clouded sky. It was not pleasant to look upon, and it made the heart of his mother heavy and sad to see it. I hope Henry will learn to be cheerful and prompt in his obedience to his mother, for, if he should not, the expression of his face will grow more and more disagreeable, till, when he is a man, it will look more like a chilly day in November, than a sweet, gladsome day in June.

I do not wish you should tell me, but I should like to have you ask yourself, when you have read about these two boys, which of them you are most like. Is your face sunny, or shady?

"IT ISN'T FAIR. I PEEPED."

Willie and Eddie were playing Hide the b.u.t.ton. After they had played some time, and it was Willie's turn to find it, he came into the nursery with his face flushed, and evidently much excited. "It isn't fair," said he, and the tears gathered in his eyes, and his lips quivered with emotion, "I peeped. Eddie must hide it again;" and he went out of the room, for Eddie to put the b.u.t.ton in another place.