The Pearl Box Part 6

Then let us pray that G.o.d may add His blessing to their toil; Then our young minds and hearts will prove A rich, productive soil.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

MAY-DAY.

All hail the bright, the rosy morn, The first of blus.h.i.+ng May, While fragrant flowers the fields adorn.

And Nature smiles so gay.

Oh, what a joyous festival To all the young and fair, Who love to rove through verdant fields And breathe the balmy air.

With rosy checks, and laughing eyes, They hie to Nature's bowers, While birds trill forth their sweetest lay, To pluck the fairest flowers.

Now some have strayed to sit beneath A grove of maples grey, To twine their flowers into a wreath, Or cull a sweet bouquet.

While one small group is seated round A florid, mossy knoll, And laughing lisp that they have found The sweetest flowers of all.

With bouquets sweet, and garlands gay, They homeward then repair, In haste to join without delay The pic-nic or the fair.

For times are not as they were wont To be in years gone by, When on the rural village green They reared the May-pole high;

While gathered round a merry group Of youths and maidens gay, To crown some rosy rustic maid The smiling Queen of May.

THE FLOWERS OF THE FIELD.

MATT. VI. 28.

Behold the lilies of the field, In thousand colors drest; They toil not, neither do they spin, Yet G.o.d the flowers hath blest.

Then toil not for the things of earth, But seek your G.o.d to please; For Solomon, in all his pride, Was not arrayed like these.

Wherefore, if G.o.d so clothe the gra.s.s And flowers, that fade and die, Will he not much more care for you, And all your wants supply?

Why will ye, O ye faithless ones, Distrust your Father's care?

Are ye not better than the flowers?

Will he not hear your prayer?

Your Father knoweth what ye need; Fear not, but watch and pray; And let your light s.h.i.+ne more and more Unto the perfect day.

MY EARLY DAYS.

(SEE FRONTISPIECE.)

My father's house was indeed a pleasant home; and father was the supreme guide of his own household. He was gentle, but he could be firm and resolute when the case demanded. Mother was the suns.h.i.+ne of our little garden of love; her talents and energy gave her influence; and united to a man like father, she was all that is lovable in the character of woman.

But the dear old home, where I grew from infancy to boyhood, and from boyhood to youth, I shall never forget. It was a large house on the slope of a hill, just high enough to overlook several miles of our level country, and smooth enough with its soft gra.s.sy carpet for us to roll down from the summit to the foot of the hill. At the back of the house was another hill, where we used to roll under the shade of the old elm, and where Miles and I would sit whole afternoons and fly the kite, each taking turns in holding the string. This was a happy place for us, and especially in the spring time, when the happy looking cows grazed along the pathway which winds around the elm to the stream where Kate and I used to sail my little boat. All summer long this place was vocal with the songs of birds, which built their nests in safety among the tall trees of the grove in the rear of the farm. We had also the music of the running brook, and the pleasant hum of my father's cotton mill, which brought us in our daily bread. Haying time was always a happy season for us boys. Father's two horses, "_d.i.c.k_" and "_Bony_" would take off the farm as large a load of hay as any in the village.

Years past on, and we were a happy band of brothers and sisters. After Kate, came the twins, Margaret and Herbert, and last of all came the youngest darling, blue eyed Dora. We had a happy childhood. Our station in the world was high enough to enable us to have all the harmless pleasures and studies that were useful and actually necessary to boys and girls of our station. Father always thought that it was better in early youth not to force the boys to too hard study, and mother loved best to see Kate and Margaret using the fingers in fabricating garments, than in playing the harp. We were free, happy, roving children on father's farm, unchained by the forms of fas.h.i.+onable life. We had no costly dresses to spoil, and were permitted to play in the green fields without a servant's eye, and to bathe in the clear shallow stream without fear of drowning. As I have said before, these were happy days; and when I think of them gone, I often express my regret that we did not improve them more for the cultivation of the mind and the affections. In the next story you will see that there were some pa.s.sing clouds in our early summer days.

MARGARET AND HERBERT.

In a large family there are often diversity of character and varieties of mood and temper, which bring some clouds of sorrow. In our little Eden of innocence there were storms now and then. Miles was a little wild and headstrong from his babyhood, and Margaret, though very beautiful, was often wilful and vain. For five years the twins had grown up together the same in beauty and health. One day an accident befell Herbert, and the dear child rose from his bed of sickness a pale and crippled boy. His twin sister grew up tall and blooming. The twins loved each other very much, and it was a pleasant sight to see how the deformed boy was cherished and protected by his sister Margaret. She would often leave us in the midst of our plays to go and sit by Herbert, who could not share with us in them.

We had our yearly festivals, our cowslip gatherings, our blackberry huntings, our hay makings, and all the delights so pleasant to country children. Our five birthdays were each signalized by simple presents and evening parties, in the garden or the house, as the season permitted.

Herbert and Margaret's birthdays came in the sunny time of May, when there were double rejoicings to be made. They were always set up in their chairs in the bower, decorated with flowers and crowned with wreaths. I now think of Margaret smiling under her brilliant garland, while poor Herbert looked up to her with his pale sweet face. I heard him once say to her when we had all gone away to pluck flowers:

"How beautiful you are to-day, Margaret, with your rosy cheeks and brown hair."

"But that does not make me any better or prettier than you, because I am strong and you are not, or that my cheeks are red and yours are pale."

Miles was just carrying little Dora over the steeping stones at the brook, when Herbert cried:

"O, if I could only run and leap like Miles; but I am very helpless."

To which Margaret replied: "Never mind, brother; I will love you and take care of you all your life," and she said these words with a sister's love, as she put her arms around the neck of her helpless brother. She loved him the more, and aimed to please him by reading books to him which were his delight. This was a pleasant sight, and the brothers always admired Margaret for her attention to their helpless brother.

THE BIT OF GARDEN.

Young children like to have a small piece of land for a garden which they can call their own. And it is very pleasant to dig the ground, sow the seed, and watch the little green plants which peep out of the earth, and to see the beautiful buds and fresh blossoms.

Every boy and girl has a bit of garden, and we are told in the good book to take good care of it, and see that the weeds of vice do not spread over it, and to be sure and have it covered over with plants of goodness. This garden is the HEART. Such things as anger, sloth, lying and cheating, are noxious weeds. But if you are active and industrious, and keep cultivating this little garden, and keep out all the bad weeds, G.o.d will help you to make a good garden, full of pleasant plants, and flowers of virtue. I have seen some gardens which look very bad, covered with briars and weeds, the gra.s.s growing in the paths, and the knotty weeds choking the few puny flowers that are drooping and dying out. Every thing seems to say--"How idle the owner of this garden is."

But I have seen other gardens where there were scarcely any weeds. The walks look tidy, the flowers in blossom, the trees are laden with fruit, and every thing says, "How busy the owner is." Happy are you, dear children, if you are working earnestly in the garden of your hearts.

Your garden will be clean, pleasant, and fruitful--a credit and comfort to you all your days.

REMEMBER THE CAKE.