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(NUMBER 35.
OLMSTEAD. & CO., PUBLISHERS.
FPRED,HAYDEN.
: “I don’t want to travel away up-stairs just to
change my boots. Now what’s the use, why can’t
“I wear these, mother ?”
So said Fred Hayden, in reply to his mother,
who had @esired him to put on his rubber boots to.
wear to school. ’
“Jt has been raining all the thorhing” his mother
replied; “you could not wear the boots you have
on without wetting your feet; and then you would
be very: uneomfortable ‘all day, beside anne the
risk of getting sick.”
When his mother had finished speaking, he went,
“bat not willingly, for he” stamped on_every Stair,
and when he returned, instead of pleasantly bidding
his mother “good morning,” he muttered,
‘J should have been half way ‘there by this
time, if I could have gone with ‘the boots that I
had on.”
5 “O no, my son,” said his mother, as she opened
his umbrella for him. Charging him to be a good
boy in school, she cast a lingering glance after him,
then closing the door, breathed an earnest prayer
on his behalf.
Now Fred was not habitually disobedient. He
never positively refused to obey; but sometimes,
as on the morning of which I have been speaking,
the spirit of obedience was entirely wanting, and it
~ grieved his kind parents. \-.
Fred liked his school. “He was fond of study.
. He never copied his examples from the slates of
other boys. If some problem was difficult, he
, . would study hard, and try to find the reason con-
tained in the rule; and when at last he obtained
the true answer, his eyes would sparkle with de-
light. Once upen such a timé, he clapped his
hands and sung out, “O glory, halle-halleluiah.” It
was one evening, when sitting at the table, where
_his*mother was reading by the same light.
. “My son!” she exclaimed in surprise.
* «Pay'so glad, mother,” he said, “because I’ve got
this hard example out, all myself.”
- Then she explained to him the meaning of the
word “halleluiah,” and told him it was a profana-
tion of the word to use it when there was no inten-
tion of ascribing praise to Jehovah,
.o “Well, then, I think a good many are profane
who sing the ‘John Brown Song,’” said Fred, “for
I don’t believe half of them mean to praise the
Lord.”
But he remembered not to repeat the phrase
again in a thoughtless manner.
Fred was fond of play, too; he had great inven-
: “tive powers, and would contrive new plays; which
made him a great favorite with the boys, for they
were sure of having sport enough, if he could only
be with them.
» Near the school-house was a a brook, across which,
from bank to bank, the boys had been building
* dams, at different distances, for several days.
Fred had made a wheel and fastened it by a
stake to the ground, which, when the water should
reach a certain height, would be revolved by its
force. So the boys were wishing for rain, that the
water in the brook might rise.
No pupil lived farther from the school-house than
did Fred; yet he was never late. He knew how
‘much time it required to walk the distance, and he
took care always to start in good season.
He had two reasons for this: one was,’ because
he loved to be promptly present at the opening of
the school. Ile thought the boys looked mean,
who crept in after school had begun. © The other
reason was, that he might have some play before it
was time for school to commence. And the teacher
‘said he thought those who learned their lessons
well had a right to enjoy their play, and he did not
“doubt that they were far happier in their sports
than idle pupils.
» Now on the morning. alluded to, Fred’s great
“haste to go to school was not a fear of being late,
but to see if the water in the brook had reached
. his wheel. So although he was impatient at the
| delay occasioned by changing his -boots, he soon
recovefed his good humor, knowing that he had
ample time to accomplish all his intentions.
As he passed the house of Arthur Hurd, Arthur
runout. +,» .
* «}lurrah, Fred,” said he, “isn’t this just the rain
we've been looking for P”
“Arthur,” called his sister, who had hurried to!
“2
the porch, “mother says you must come back: and
put on your boots.
“Yes? well, I won't,” said Arthur,
afong with Fred Hayden.” j
* “Tl wait,” said Fred. * °°" -
“I’m not going back,” said Arthur, n obstlantaly ;
“just as though I'm not too old to be told ‘I must.’”
Arthur’s sister saw that he intended to go on,
and she called “Please, Arthur, do come, I'll bring
them to the steps.”
“Go; I would,” said Fred.
“Mind a girl!” said Arthur, contemptuously.
Then he began to whistle, and soon they turned a
corner which placed them out of his sister’s tiew.
On reaching the brook they found other boys al-
ready there.
“Come on, Fred, your wheel goes like a clack-
ing mill,” one called out.
~ Some who had on high rubber boots were wading
into the brook to place large stones where cascades
could be formed, and Fred joined their number.
Arthur wished he had gone back at his sister’s
call, but he did not say so. He stepped as near
the water’s edge as he could without going into the
brook, till a stone on which he had ventured to rest
his feet slipped, and he was standing above his
ankles in water.
He screamed, and throwing up both hands,
called out, “Help me out of the water.”
Several of the boys laughed heartily; some
called, “Run out yourself, it isn’t deep ;” but Fred
seeing how frightened Arthur looked, ran, caught
hold of his hand, and led him up to the bank,
“Did you think you should drown, Arthur ?” Ed
Smith said, laughing. “You couldn’t drown in
this brook if you should try to.”
“If your feet were fast in the clay as mine were,
Idon’t think you'd laugh,” he replied, being ex-
ceedingly vexed that so little sympathy was mani-
fested at his misfortune; he forgot, too, to thank
Fred for his assistance, and even said “I don’t be-
lieve you care much, Fred; I suppose you think I
might have gone back when my sister called me.”
“You could have had more fun if you had,” said
Fred, “seeing that it hardly rains at all now.”
Arthur’s buots were covered with mud; and as
his feet were very uncomfortable, he made haste to
the school-house. A low stool was in the entry, on
which seating himself, he began rubbing the clay
from bis boots, with the covers which he had torn
«I'm going
from his books; but with all his efforts his appear- |"
ance was very untidy.
“What a pity to take that cover off of your
geography, ‘twas sewed on s0 nice,” said a little
girl
When the school bell rung, all hastened to their
seats. Fred directly drew off his boots, took out
te
Hl
TOMMY DYER’S CAT.
his neat slippers that he wore in them, and as he
ut them on, thought of his mother’s kindness to
him, Beautiful slippers they were, handsomely
wroysht with worsted: a birthday present from his
mother; and so comfortable! His pants, too, were
all dry around the ankles; and as he contrasted
his comfortable condition with the inelegant ap-
pearance of Arthur, reflections of his unkindness
to his mother that morning flashed vividly across
his mind, and he resolved never again to yield such
reluctant obedience to his mother’s requests.
Fred had carried his dinner that day, as he al-
ways did in stormy weather; and as he was a dili-
gent scholar, the time in school was pleasantly
passed; the amusements of the intermission he ea-
joyed, and the day. did not seem long and tedious
to him.
When school was done, and he was on his way
home, he seemed very unlike the ill-humored boy
that had started from his home that morning.
The weather, too, was changed. The rain was
over. A beautiful bow was arching the sky. The
leaves of the trees were of a brighter green, and
seemed to have expanded since morning, while
over the broad fields of grass the sun threw a
golden radiance, and the very fields looked glad. .
Arthur Hurd was absent from school in the
afternoon, and as Fred passed his house when go-
ing home, he decided to stop and inquire the cause
of his absence. But Arthur's sister was just going
out of the gate when Fred arrived there.
“O dear, Fred!” she said, “I’m so afraid Arthur
will die ; he has a dreadful sore throat, and says he
fears it is the diptheria.”
Fred expressed his sympathy for Arthur's suffer-
ing, and then proceeded homeward.
His mother met him at the door with a smile,
wea d inquired if he had observed the beautiful rain-
gz
owes, mother, I think it’s splendid, but” and
he hesitated.
“But what, my son ”
“I want to tell you something, mother: Arthur
Hurd is sick.”
“Come in, Freddie, and tell me about him.
What is the matter with him?” his mother in-
quired, as Fred seated himself by her side.
“Ile has a sore throat. But I wanted to tell you
I'm sorry, mother.”
“Of course you are sorry to have him sick.”
“Yes,” interrupted Fred, “but that isn’t what I
mean. I mean I’m sorry I was so unkind to you
this morning. I mean to be a better boy in future,
and do what you desire pleasantly.
.“Then, my son,” replied his mother, “soa will
rejoice your parents’ hearts. You will make mani-
22 SCHOOL STREET, BOSTON.
more happy than you would be in persisting in
your own way, and will become entitled to the
promise made to those who honor their parents.”
+
COUSIN DEBORAH’S LEGACY,
Cousin Deborah was an old, unmarried lady, who
had no other property than a moderate life annuity.
The furniture of the house was faded and antique ;
the linen was well darned; the plate was scanty,
and worn thin with use and frequent scouring ; the
books were few, and in no very good condition,
She had no jewelry or trinkets; her days were
passed in a dreary state of tranquillity, stitching,
stitching forever, with her beloved huge workbox
at her elbow. That wanted nothing, for it was
abundantly fitted up with worsted, cotton, tapes,
buttons, bodkins, needles, and such a multitude of
reels and balls that to enumerate them would be a
tedious task. :
Cousin Deborah particularly prided herself on
darning ; carpets, house linen and stockings all
bore unimpeachable testimony to this branch of in-
dustry. Holes and thin places were hailed with
delight by her; and it was whispered—but that
might be a mere matter of scandal—that she even
went so far as to cut holes in her best table cloths
for the purpose of exercising her ingenuity in re-
pairing the fractures. Her conversation turned on
the subject of thread, paper, and needle-cases ; and
never was darning cotton more scientifically rolled
into neat balls than by the taper fingers of Cousin
Deborah.
The contents of that wonderful workbox would’
have furnished a small shop.. As a child I have al-
ways regarded it with awe and veneration; and
without daring to lay a finger on the treasure it
when the raised edge revealed its mountains of cot-
ton and forests of pins and needles, .
garded me with favor in consequence of being asked
by my mother to give me a lesson in darning—a
most necessary accomplishment in our family. I
was the eldest of my brothers and sisters; and
stances of our dear parents rendered the strictest
industry and frugality absolutely indispensable in
order to make both ends meet,
She was proud of me, on the whole, as a pupil,
though she sometimes had occasion to reprove me
for idleness and slipping of stitches; and between
us, it is impossible to say how many pairs of stock-
ings we made in the course of a year. We resided
near our Cousin Deborah; and many a time I was
invited to take tea with her, and bring my bag in
hand as a matter of course, and sit with her long
hours without speaking, intent on our needles, the
silence unbroken expect by the ticking of the eight-
day clock.
I sometimes felt it very dull work, I confess.
Not so-with Cousin Deborah. She needed no
other society than that of her workbox, and I do
not believe that she loved any human being so well.
Her whole heart was in it; and the attachment she
evinced towards me, as she went on, was fostered
and encouraged by our mutual zeal in performit g
tasks of needlework. Not-that I shared in her
devotion ; I was actuated by a sense of duty alone,
and would far rather, could I have done so con-
scientiously, have been running and laughing with
companions of my own age, But ply the needle I
did, and so did Cousin Deborah; and we two be-
came, with the huge workbox between us, quite a
pair of loving friends; and at least two evenings
in every week I went to sit with the lone woman,
She would have me do so every evening, but
though there were so many of us at home, our pa-
rents could not bear to spare any of us out of their
sight oftener than they deemed indispensable.
At length Cousin Deborah’s quiet and blameless
life came to an end. Haying shut her workbox,
locked it, and put the Rey i in a sealed packet, she
turned her face to the wall and fell asleep.
When her will was opened, it was found that
she had left her books, furniture, and plate toa
family that stood in. the same relationship to her
that we did, but who were in much more prosper-
ous circumstances than we. To me she devised
the huge workbox, with all the contents, in token
fest the love that you feel for them; you will be
of the high esteem and affection by which I was
contained, my prying eyes devoured its mysteries ~~,
I have no doubt that Cousin Deborah first re-
though very happy among ourselves, the circum- .
i
te
