FORGIVENESS.
A very little child, one day, Too young to know the harm it did, Trampled, with his small naked foot, The place in which a violet hid.
The violet sighed its life away, Embalming, with its last faint breath, The little foot, that thus, in play, Had put its soft, blue flower to death.
Ah, was it not a tender flower, To lavish all the wealth it had, Its fragrance, in its dying hour, Mild, meek, forgiving, mute, though sad.
My little girl, the lesson learn; Be thou the violet--love _thou_ so; Retort no wrong; but n.o.bly turn, And with thy heart"s wealth bless thy foe.
SNOW DROP.
THE TWO NOSEGAYS.
One fine summer evening, as the mother of Virginia and Maria was walking with them in the garden, she observed that, from time to time, they went away by themselves, and whispered mysteriously together; and whenever she went towards them, to inquire into the subject of their conversation, they stopped, and began to play about.
This conduct disturbed her very much; for she knew that when girls have anything which they wish to conceal from their mothers, there must be something wrong about it.
This case, however, was an exception to the general rule, Virginia and Maria had nothing improper in their minds; but the next day was their mother"s birth-day, and they wished to think of something which would be a suitable present for them to make her.
Virginia was two years older than Maria, and the two sisters were very different. Virginia was lively, quick, and graceful; Maria was quiet, modest, and loving.
"Let us make mamma some present which will prove which of us possesses the finest taste," said Virginia. "In our garden and the meadow the flowers are all striving to see which will excel in beauty. Let us choose, from among them, the flowers we like best, and make a nosegay, each by ourselves; and then see which our mother will prefer."
Maria agreed to her sister"s proposal, and, early on the next morning, they went, by different paths, through the meadow and garden, to make their choice. All the flowers smiled upon them, and seemed to invite attention: but they flew, like b.u.t.terflies, from one to the other, uncertain where to choose. At length the early morning was gone, and it was time for them to return to breakfast.--They both knew that a want of _punctuality_ would displease their mother, more than any nosegays could give her pleasure. So they broke off their flowers hastily, and carried them to the house, without even suffering each other to see what they had.
Soon after breakfast, Virginia approached her mother with a smile of satisfaction, and very gracefully presented her a bunch of fresh moss-roses, in a little basket curiously woven of the green leaves of the bush.
"Dear mother!" said she, "see how, from this little basket of leaves, this full-blown moss-rose lifts up its head in the centre, with a colour so lively and so soft. This beautiful rose is you, mother, and this little bud beneath its shadow is your Virginia."
Maria approached with a timid step, and spoke in a low, hesitating voice:
"Mother, here is my nosegay. It is not so beautiful nor ingenious as Virginia"s rose-basket.--It is only a bunch of honeysuckle blossoms, from the vine which twined around the nut-tree, as I would rest on you."
When Maria said this, she threw her arms around her mother"s neck, and wet her cheeks with tears of quiet love.
The beauty and ingenuity of the rose-basket had delighted the eye of the happy mother, but Maria"s present touched her heart; and tears filled her eyes, as she returned the embrace of her affectionate child.
"My dear children," said she, "your gifts are like yourselves, and you shall both be precious to me."
As she said this, she took the rose-bud from the basket, and twining it with the honeysuckles, put them both into her bosom.
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CAMGNO; OR, THE TAME ROE.
A TRUE STORY.
And now, little girls, I am going to tell you of the life and history of a young roe-deer. It is quite a true story, as I have very good reason to know.
When f.a.n.n.y Grey was about seven years old, one day her father opened the door of the room where she sat, and said, "Come here, f.a.n.n.y, and look at the beautiful present I have brought you."
So she got up in great haste, and followed her papa to the lawn, and there, in a nice square box, was a young roe.
"It is for you, my child, as a reward for your attention to your studies."
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I wish you could have seen f.a.n.n.y"s joy. She danced about, and clapped her hands, and ran to the dairy to get some milk for the little stranger. When she had taken it out of the box, she could see it much better: she could see the white spots that make the coat of roe-deer, when they are very young. She could see its pretty little graceful feet, and its soft, black eyes; and f.a.n.n.y was so happy, that she said she should like it better than any of her pets. She had birds, and dogs, and a beautiful grey horse, but this dear little roe was better than all.
She gave it the name of Camgno; and by this name it would come whenever she called.--She made a velvet cushion for it to sleep upon, and every day she thought it grew more pretty. After some time Camgno became quite strong, and f.a.n.n.y had a silver collar made for it; and the gamekeeper made a "nice little house" for her favourite, where it could sleep every night. Camgno would always come when f.a.n.n.y called, and they loved each other very much. But Camgno was taken sick, and it was necessary to carry him to the pheasant-house, where the gamekeeper could take care of him; for f.a.n.n.y was not old enough to take all the care of her little pet, when he was so sick, and so she consented to its being removed.
One day her father came home and told her a sad tale, that Camgno could not live. Oh! how sorry she was!--the tears came into her eyes, and she ran away, as fast as she could, to see her poor roe. When she came to the pheasant-house, Camgno was lying on the ground, and looked quite dead.
"Oh, my poor Camgno!" she cried.
Camgno opened its black eyes at the sound of her voice; and f.a.n.n.y sat down by the roe, and raised its little head, and laid it upon her knee.--She staid a long time beside her dear little pet, till her father said he was afraid she would catch cold, and she must now go home.
The next morning she got up very early, and went to the gamekeeper; but just before she reached the house, she met James, who said, "It is of no use; Camgno is dead; but if I live till another spring, I will get you another roe."
"Thank you James," said f.a.n.n.y; "but I shall never want another roe; it might die too; and it makes me very sorry: but I will thank you to dig a grave for my _pet_, and help me to bury it."
So f.a.n.n.y covered the grave with flowers, and resolved that she would try and not love anything so much again that could be taken away from her; but she was always kind to all animals, and every living thing,--and, after this, she was led to think of and love such things as could not be taken away from her: and that made her truly happy.
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THE SECRET.
"Come, f.a.n.n.y," said George Lewis, "put on your hat, and go out with me among the trees and bushes. It is a bright, glorious morning, and I have a secret to reveal to you, sister, when we get where n.o.body will overhear us."
"Oh, that"s grand," cried f.a.n.n.y, with her face kindling up with joy, and her curiosity, like herself, all on tiptoe. "I love to find out secrets."
She took her brother"s hand, and away they hied, running and leaping, over the field, past the new hayricks, across the rivulet, and into the flowery border of a thicket. Here was a little silvery fountain, gushing from a mossy rock, and flashing to the light over its pebbly basin; and there a green, arching bough, hung with cl.u.s.ters of wild berries, and trembling from the weight and motion of their light-winged gatherer; while the air was filled with sweet perfume, and the songs of the feathered warblers sounded from shrub and tree on every side.