Chapter II: Part 2

Then he began to walk up. He scrambled through the bushes for some
time, and at last came out into a smooth, but muddy path. Here,
however, he was in no little difficulty, for the path was so slippery
that notwithstanding all he could do, he seemed rather to be sliding
_down_, than climbing up.

Here we come to the end of another paragraph. And I wish you to look at the word “_down_” in the last line. Do you see any thing strange about it? Is it printed like the other words?

Once I asked some children to look at a word printed so, and to tell me what the difference was between it and other words. One said it looked fainter. Another said it looked smaller. A third said it was not printed with good ink. But the true explanation is, the letters of the word are slanting. That is all. It makes the word look a little fainter.

You will see that the letters are different by looking first at the d in “sliding,” which comes before “_down_,” and then looking at the _d_ in “_down_.” The d in “sliding” is straight. The _d_ in “_down_” is slanting; all the other letters in _down_ are slanting. Do you know what this kind of printing is called? It is called Italic.

The word “_down_” in the story is printed in Italics. The reason why it is printed in Italics is because I wanted you to notice it particularly. It is remarkable that while the man was trying to get _up_, he should, instead of that, slide _down_. So I had the word printed differently, that you might notice it particularly. Whenever you are reading and come to any word printed in Italics, you must notice it, and speak it very distinctly, for it is an important word.

Look back in this book and see if you can find some words printed in Italics. When you find one, read the sentence it is in aloud, and speak the word which is in Italics very plain and distinct, and see if you do not understand the sentence better.

You must always read such words very distinctly in all books except the Bible. In the Bible, the words are put in Italics for a different reason, which I cannot explain to you now. Now I will go on with the story.

He at last got over this slippery part of the path, and then came to
a place where it was very rocky. Trees and bushes hung over his head,
and grew thick all around him, and he began to be afraid that he
might meet some wild beast. Presently he looked through the bushes,
and saw at a distance among the rocks, some large black thing, and
he thought it was a bear. He was very much frightened, and began to
scream out as loud as he could, HELP, HELP, HELP.

Do you notice any thing remarkable in those three last words? Are they printed like the other words? Are they printed in Italics? How do they differ from common printing? Can you tell? Do you often see words printed so?

They are printed in Capitals. Capitals are letters shaped differently from other letters. They are generally larger than other letters, but not always. These words are printed in capitals, because they are very important indeed. The man cried, Help, Help, Help, very loud. So we print them in Capitals. If a word is very important, we generally print it in Italics, but if it is _very_ important _indeed_ we print it in Capitals. When you come to a word printed in Capitals, you must generally read it very plain and distinctly indeed. I should like to have you look back to the story of Jonas, and see how the words are printed where the boy said “Whoa.” Can you tell the reason why they are printed so? and can you read them right? But let us go on with the story.

At the same time that he shouted for help so loud, he grasped hold
of a tree close by, and began to climb it, by the branches, to get
out of the bear’s way. When he got up a little way, he could see over
the bushes to the very place where the bear was; he looked there, and
saw--what do you think it was?

You see a straight mark printed after “saw.” Do you see it? What do you suppose it is? It is what they call a _dash_. The reason why I put the dash there, is that I was going to tell you what the man saw, but I suddenly stopped, and asked you what you thought it was. When we suddenly stop in saying any thing, and begin to say something else, we put in a _dash_. So we use a dash in some other ways. You ought to stop a little when you come to a dash, thus; “He looked there and saw--what do you think it was?” Dashes are generally put in, when we want you to stop a little in your reading. Now for the story again.

He looked, and saw--what do you think it was? Why, it was nothing but
an old, black log!!

Do you see two characters at the end of that sentence? They are notes of exclamation. When two of them are put together they mean that what comes before them is very extraordinary and surprising. Should you not think it was very extraordinary and surprising for a man to think he saw a bear, and be frightened and shout help, and climb up into a tree, and find, after all, that it was nothing but a great, black log? It is surprising, and when you read it, you must read it as if you thought it was very surprising, so; “What do you think it was? Why it was nothing but an old, black log!!” You can get your father or mother to show you how to read it, if you do not know.

It was nothing but an old, black log, lying against the rocks. The
man felt ashamed. He clambered down, and went to look at the log
which had frightened him so. It was as black as a coal.* The man
laughed to think that he should have supposed _that_ to be a bear.

Do you see after the word _coal_, in the last line but one, a little star? Do you know what that star is for? It is to make you look down to the bottom of the page, and there you will find something more about the black wood. When you come to any little star then, when you are reading, you must look down to the bottom of the page, and there you will find another little star, with something printed after it. That which is printed thus at the bottom of a page is called a _note_.

Other characters besides stars are made for notes. These are some of the characters, § ¶ † ‡. There are not many notes in this book. Perhaps you will find some by and by.

This is all that I have to tell you now about reading. But now I will put in the whole story about the man going up the mountain, and you may see if you can read it all right, and see too, if you remember all that I have explained.

* It was burnt black by a fire, which somebody had built there a great while before.

CLIMBING UP A MOUNTAIN.

Once there was a man who thought he would go up upon a mountain; so he rode along upon his horse till he came as near the mountain as he could, and then he turned off into the woods and rode on until he came to the foot of the mountain. He could ride no farther; so he tied his horse to a tree.

Then he began to walk up. He scrambled through the bushes for some time, and at last came out into a smooth but muddy path. Here, however, he was in no little difficulty, for the path was so slippery that, notwithstanding all he could do, he seemed rather to be sliding _down_, than climbing _up_.

He at last got over this slippery part of the path, and then came to a place where it was very rocky. Trees and bushes hung over his head, and grew thick, all around him, and he began to be afraid that he might meet with some wild beast. Presently he looked through the bushes, and saw at a distance among the rocks, some large, black thing, and he thought it was a bear. He was very much frightened, and began to scream out as loud as he could, HELP, HELP, HELP.

At the same time that he shouted for help so loud, he grasped hold of a tree close by, and began to climb it, by the branches, to get out of the bear’s way. When he got up a little way he could see over the bushes to the very place where the bear was; he looked there and saw,--what do you think it was? Why it was nothing but _an old, black log_! An old, black log, lying against the rocks. The man felt ashamed. He clambered down and went to look at the log which had frightened him so. It was as black as a coal.* The man laughed to think that he should have supposed _that_ to be a bear.

He determined not to be so foolish another time, and then he went along climbing up the mountain. It was steep and rocky, and there were bushes and trees each side of the path. He had to stop often to take breath and rest himself. At last he reached the top, and could see a great many miles all around. He could see woods and farms and towns and rivers away down, down, very far below him.

After a while he came down the mountain. He walked very carefully, so as not to fall. When he came to where the old black log was, he looked at it and laughed.

* It was burnt black by a fire, which somebody had built there a great while before.

ROLLO GETTING READY FOR HIS FATHER.

One day little Rollo was sitting by the fire on his green cricket. His mother was sewing at her work-table.

“Mother,” said Rollo, “when do you think father will come home?”

His mother said, “I think he will come home pretty soon.”

“Then,” said Rollo, “I think I had better get a chair for him.”

So he went and took hold of the great rocking-chair, to pull it to the fire for his father; but it was so heavy that it would not come. So Rollo began to cry.

His mother looked up and said, “Rollo, what is the matter?”

Rollo said, “This rocking-chair will not come.”

“Where do you want to carry it?”

“I want it to be by the fire, so that my father can sit in it when he comes home,” said Rollo.

“Why do you want your father to have it?”

“Because;” said he. He did not know exactly how to tell the reason, and so he only said “Because.”

“It is because you wish to please him and to save him trouble, is it not?”

“Yes, mother,” said Rollo.

“Well, do you not think it displeases me and gives me trouble to have you cry, and make me get up and come and move the chair for you?”

Rollo knew it did, but he did not answer.

Then his mother said, “What good does it do to displease _me_ and make _me_ trouble, for the sake of pleasing _father_ and saving _him_ trouble?”

Rollo could not answer this question; so he kept swinging and rocking, back and forth, on the chair. His mother went on with her work.

By and by he said, “Well, I can get my father’s slippers for him.”

So he went to the little closet by the side of the fire, and took out the slippers, and put them down in the corner, and then when his father came in, he ran to the door to meet him, and he said,

“Father, father, I could not move up your chair, but there are your slippers all ready.”

THE WAY TO OBEY.

When Rollo was about five years old, his mother one evening took him up in her lap, and said,

“Well, Rollo, it is about time for you to go to bed.”

“Oh, mamma,” said Rollo, “_must_ I go now?”

“Did you know,” said his mother, “that it is wrong for you to say that?”

“Why, mother,” said Rollo, surprised.

“When I think it is time for you to go to bed, it is wrong for you to say or do any thing which shows that you are not willing to go.”

“Why, mother?”

“Because that makes it more unpleasant for you to go, and more unpleasant for me to send you. Now whenever I think that it is time for you to go, it is my duty to send you, and it is your duty to go, and we never ought to do any thing to make our duty unpleasant.”

Rollo then said nothing. He sat still a few minutes thinking.

“Do you understand it?” said his mother.

“Yes, mother,” said Rollo.

“Suppose now any mother should say to her boy, ‘Come, my boy, it is time for you to go to bed;’ and the boy should say, ‘I won’t go.’ Would that be right or wrong?”

“Oh, very wrong,” said Rollo.

“Suppose he should begin to cry, and say he did not want to go?”

“That would be very wrong too,” said Rollo.

“Suppose he should begin to beg a little, and say, ‘I don’t want to go _now_, I should think you might let me sit up a little longer.’ What should you think of that?”

“It would be wrong.”

“Suppose he should look up into his mother’s face sorrowfully, and say, ‘_Must_ I go now, mother?’”

“Wrong,”--said Rollo, faintly.

“Suppose he should not say a word, but look cross and ill-humored, and throw away his playthings in a pet, and walk by the side of his mother, reluctantly and slowly. What should you think of that?”

“I think it would be wrong.”

“Suppose he should look pleasantly, and say, ‘Well mother,’ and come pleasantly to take her hand, and bid the persons in the room good night, and walk off cheerfully.”

“That would be right,” said Rollo.

“Yes,” said his mother, “and always when a child is told to do any thing, whether it is pleasant to do or not, he ought to obey at once, and cheerfully.”

ROLLO’S BREAKFAST.

Rollo was sitting one morning by the fire-side, before breakfast, reading in a little blue covered hymn-book. Presently Mary brought in the breakfast; and Rollo was glad, and jumped up from his little _low_ chair at the fire, and went and brought his _high_ chair, and put it at his place at the table.

When they were all ready, they stood still, while Rollo’s father said in a slow and serious manner, “Almighty God, we thank thee that thou hast again spread this table for us, and prepared this food. Help us now to receive it thankfully, and may it strengthen us to obey thy commands this day; we ask it for Christ’s sake.” Then they sat down.

Rollo knew that this was called asking a blessing, and he had always been taught to be very still, and very attentive, while it was done. He did not know however, exactly what it was for, and he thought he would now ask his father.

His father told him it was to thank God for their breakfast.

Rollo asked his father whether God gave them their breakfast.

“Yes,” said his father, “God causes our breakfast to be brought to us from many distant places.”

“Where do the knives and forks come from?” said Rollo.

“They come from England. The men dig up the iron out of the ground to make the blades, and take horn and make the handles, and then roll them up in a paper and put them in a ship. The ship brings them across the ocean, more than a thousand miles, to Boston. Then the waggoner puts them in his waggon, and brings them over the hills and valleys away to this town where we live,--all that little Rollo may have a knife and fork to eat his breakfast.”

“Where do the plates come from?”

“They come from England. The men find a bank of white clay, and they mix up some of it with water, until it is like dough. Then they make it into the shape of plates, and cups, and saucers, and paint them blue; and put them into a large, hot oven, and bake them hard. When they are cooled, they pack them up in a sort of a basket, large and square; and put straw and hay between them, so that they need not break. And so they bring them over the waves, and over the hills, away to the town we live in, so that little Rollo may have a plate when he eats his breakfast.”

“Where does the coffee come from?”

“It comes from Cuba. The negroes plant a tree and take good care of it while it grows, until there are a great many kernels of coffee upon it. They gather them when they are ripe, and sew them up in a bag, and send them all the way over the sea, and over the land, across the rivers and mountains and rocks. When they come here, Mary burns them brown, and grinds them in the mill, and heats the water, all that little Rollo may have some coffee to drink for breakfast.”

“Where does the bread come from?”

“When the summer begins, the little green blades of wheat grow up out of the ground, in the farmer’s fields. God waters it with showers, and warms it with the sun, so that it grows and grows and grows, till it is higher than Rollo’s head. Then the little grains of wheat grow in the top of it, and when they are ripe, the farmer cuts them down, and pounds them out with a great heavy flail, and puts them in a bag, and sends them to mill. At the mill they are ground between two great stones, into fine, white flour, and the baker mixes the flour and water; and makes the dough, and bakes it in his great hot oven, all that little Rollo may have some bread for breakfast.”

“Well, but father,” said Rollo, “how does God give us our breakfast then?”

His father said, “Why, it is God who made the iron in the ground for the knives, and the clay for the plates and cups. He brings the summer and the sun. He makes the wheat sprout up and grow, and brings the showers of rain. He takes care too, of all the men who shape the cups, and make the knives, and gather the coffee, and grind the wheat. He does all this kindly for us,--so that Rollo and all the other boys in the world may have some breakfast. I think we ought to thank him.”

Rollo did not say any thing, but he thought so too.

FICTITIOUS STORIES.

“Father, will you tell me a story?” said Rollo one day.

Rollo’s father was sitting on the platform, leading out to the garden-yard.* It was a pleasant summer evening, just before sunset.

“Shall it be a true story, or a _fictitious_ one?” said his father.

“What is fictitious?” asked Rollo.

“A story that is not true.”

“But it would be wrong for you to tell me any thing that was not true, would it not?” said Rollo.

“Do you think it would be certainly wrong?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Suppose you were coming along the yard, and were riding on my cane, and should come up to me and say, ‘Papa, this is my horse. See what a noble horse I have got.’ Would that be wrong?”

“No, sir.”

“Would it be true?”

“No, sir,--It would not be a real horse.”

“Now do you know why it would be right in this case for you to say it was a horse, when it was not?”

Rollo could not tell.

“I will tell you,” said his father. “Because you would not be trying to _deceive_ me. I could see your horse, as you call him, and could see that it was nothing but a cane. You would not be trying to deceive me, to make me think it was a real horse when it was not.”

“No, sir,” said Rollo.

“If you should say any thing which is not strictly true, and want to make me think it is true, that would be very wrong. That would be telling a lie. So it would be very wrong for me to tell you any thing which is not true, and try to make you think it is true. But it is not wrong for me to make up a little story to amuse you, if I do not try to deceive you by it.”

“Would that be a fictitious story?”

“Yes.”

“Well, father, I should like to have you tell me a fictitious story.”

“Well, I will tell you one. The name of it is, The Fly’s Morning Walk.” So Rollo’s father took his little boy up in his lap, and told him the following fictitious story.

* They called it the garden-yard, because it led out to the garden. You can see Jonas in the picture, wheeling out a load of weeds, along the path from the garden to the barn-yard.

THE FLY’S MORNING WALK.

Once there was a little fly with broad, thin wings and round body and two great eyes. When he waked up in the morning, he found he was standing on the wall, and he thought he would go and find something for breakfast.

He flew down upon the table, and then crept along. First he found a little grain of sand, and said he, “I wonder if this is good to eat.” So he reached out his long _proboscis_ to it, and tried to taste of it, but he found it was dry and rough and hard. “Oh, _no, no, no_,” said he, “this is not good to eat.”

Then he walked along a little farther, and came to some dust. And he said, “I wonder whether this is good to eat.” So he reached out his long proboscis to it, and tried to taste of it; but he found it was dry and insipid, and it stuck all over the end of his proboscis, and he said, “Oh, _no, no, no_, this is not good to eat.”

Then he went along until he came to a pin, and he said, “I wonder whether this is good to eat.” So he reached out his long proboscis, and tried to taste of it, but it was smooth and hard and round, and he could not taste of it at all. And he said, “Oh, _no, no, no_, this is not good to eat.”

Then he went round to the point of the pin, and he said, “I wonder whether this is good to eat”; but as soon as he touched his long proboscis to it, it pricked the end of it, and he started back and said, “Oh, _no, no, no_, this is not good to eat.”

Then he went along a little further, and came to a crack in the table, and he said, “I wonder whether there is any thing here good to eat.” So he reached down his long proboscis into it, and got it pinched in, so he cried out, “Oh, oh, oh, this is not good to eat.”

Then he went along a little further, and by this time he began to be very hungry, and presently, he saw a very small thing lying on the table, and he walked up to it, and began to feel of it with his long proboscis, and found it tasted very sweet and good. It was a little piece of a sugar-dog, which a boy had dropped there, and he said, “Oh, _yes, yes, yes_, this is very good to eat.” Thus at last the little fly found some breakfast.

WAKING UP.

Rollo’s father was a very kind father. He took very good care of his little boy. He had a little trundle-bed made for him to sleep in, and good warm clothes for him to wear, and besides he would very often talk to him very kindly and pleasantly.

Once Rollo’s mother took cold and became sick. Her sickness increased for several days, until at last it became necessary for her to have a nurse come and take care of her.

That night Rollo was put to bed in another chamber, and his father came to hear him say his prayers, and to bid him good night. He put his cheek down to Rollo’s, and they both prayed, first one and then the other, that God would take care of them both, and forgive their sins and give them good and holy hearts, and prepare them for heaven.

Just before his father went away, he said,

“Rollo, I am going to sleep here with you to-night.”

“Are you?” said Rollo.

“Yes; the nurse is going to take care of mother, and in an hour or two, I shall come here and go to bed. Now when the morning comes, if you will pull me, and wake me up, I will tell you a little story.”

“Well,” said Rollo, “I will.”

Then his father took up the light to go away.

Rollo did not want to have the light taken away, and he said, “Father, are you going to carry away the light?”

“Yes,--wouldn’t you?” said his father.

“No, sir, I think I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I think I must take the light away, and you must shut up your eyes and go to sleep.”

So Rollo laid his cheek upon the pillow, and shut up his eyes, though they quivered a little, because he was not sleepy, and pretty soon his father went away.

The next morning, little Rollo was awakened by some one rubbing him, and when he opened his eyes he found that it was his father, whose face was close to his upon the pillow.

“Rollo,” said he, “I told you, last night, that if you would pull me and wake me up, this morning, I would tell you a little story: but you kept asleep all this time, so I had to pull you and rub you and wake _you_ up; was not that funny?”

Rollo smiled faintly, for he was not yet quite awake.

Pretty soon he opened his eyes wide, and looked around the room. He saw that the window-curtains were very light, and he perceived that it was morning. His father then put his face to his, and said these words. He was praying to Almighty God.

“Oh, God, thou hast been in this room all night, watching and taking care of little Rollo and me while we have been asleep. We thank thee that thou hast kept us safely. Wilt thou take care of us all the day, and make us kind to all in the house. Do not let Rollo be disobedient or obstinate or ungrateful or unkind to little Lucy; and make us all good and happy, for Christ’s sake, Amen.”

Rollo was still and attentive while his father said these words. He wanted God to hear and do what his father asked.

“Rollo,” said his father, a few minutes afterwards, “what are you going to do all day to-day?”

“Oh,” said Rollo, “I am going to play.”

“Where are you going to get your breakfast?”

“Oh, I am going to get it down stairs, in the parlor.”

“But whose breakfast is that down in the parlor? Is it yours?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you buy it with your money?”

“No, sir.”

“Shall you get it ready?”

“No, sir, I do not know how to get the breakfast ready.”

“Then it is not your breakfast; it is all my breakfast; but as you have not got any breakfast of your own, I believe I will let you have some of my breakfast. But what are you going to do for a house to live in all day?”

“Oh,” said Rollo, “I am going to live in this house.”

“But is this your house?”

“No, sir.”

“Isn’t it yours? Did not you build it?”

“No, sir.”

“Did not you buy it?”

“No, sir.”

“And haven’t you got any house to live in?”

“No, sir, not unless you let me live in yours.”

“Well, if you have not any house to live in, I will let you live in mine to-day.”

Just then Rollo pointed up to the wall, and said,

“See, there is a tiger on the wall;--it looks like a tiger.”

His father looked up at the irregular lines on the wall, which had attracted his little boy’s attention, but he could not see any thing that resembled a tiger.

“I don’t see,” said his father; “where is his _head_?”

“He has not got any head; it is not a tiger, it only looks like a tiger. It has got a tail.”

“Well, where is his tail?”

“I--don’t--know. I see a stag, too, and camel.”

In a minute or two his father turned Rollo’s face over gently towards himself, so that his attention should not be attracted by what he saw there. He wanted him to listen to what he was saying to him.

“Well, Rollo,” said he, “whose clothes are you going to wear to-day?”

“Oh, I am going to wear _my_ clothes,” said Rollo; “yours would be a great deal too big.”

“Have you got any clothes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did you get them?”

“I--don’t--know,” said Rollo, hesitating.

“The clothes which you wore yesterday belong to _me_,” said his father. “Have you got any others?”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “I have got some up stairs in the drawer.”

“Well, those belong to me. I paid for them with my money, and I might sell them or give them away at any time, if I chose. Have you not got any others?”

“No, sir,” said Rollo.

“Well,” said his father, “I shall let you wear those clothes of mine then. I am very glad I have got a house, and some breakfast, and some clothes for my little Rollo boy since you have not got any of your own. But I think if I get a house for you to live in, and breakfast for you to eat, and clothes for you to wear, you ought to be a very careful, faithful, obedient little boy.”

ROLLO’S PRAYER.

Every night, when Rollo went to bed, he said a prayer which his father had taught him. It is an excellent plan for a boy or girl to say their prayers every night. For you have probably done something wrong during the day, and you ought not to go to sleep until you are forgiven. Besides, God has taken care of you through the day, and you ought not to go to sleep till you have sincerely thanked him, and asked him to take care of you through the night, while you sleep. I will tell you what Rollo’s prayer was, and I think you had better learn it, and say it every night before you go to sleep, unless you have already learned some other one.

The Prayer.

Now that another day is gone, and I lay down my head upon my pillow to rest, I come to thee, Almighty God, my Heavenly Father, to ask thee to forgive my sins, and to take care of me this night.

I have done wrong a great many times,--and destroyed my own peace of mind, and made my father and mother unhappy, and displeased thee. I pray thee, O God, to forgive me for Jesus Christ my Saviour’s sake; and wilt thou keep my heart that I may do wrong no more. Help me, every day, to try to please thee more and more, so that I may be thy dutiful and obedient child while I live, and my soul be saved when I die.

And now wilt thou come and be near my bed-side while I sleep, keep me safe until the morning; and always, whether I wake or sleep, whether I live or die, wilt thou be with me, and love me, and take care of me, forever, for Jesus’ sake.

Amen.

* * * * *

It will do no good to say this or any other prayer, unless you say it seriously and sincerely, and are really sorry for having done wrong, and resolved to do so no more.

BUNNY.

A FICTITIOUS STORY.

Once there was a beautiful wood, and in it many large trees. In one of these trees was a large hole; the bottom of the hole was covered with dry leaves and moss. Here lived Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel, with their five children, named Creep, Peep, Bushy, Grey and Bunny. They were good little squirrels, and might have been a very happy family, had not Bunny been discontented. She tried to make the others so too. She would very often crowd her brothers and sisters, and fret because she had not room.

One day their father and mother were away, running about in the woods, trying to find something for them to eat. The little squirrels were playing together very pleasantly, till Bunny pushed Creep against Peep, and then shoved Bushy, telling them to move, for she had not room. In truth, Bunny was often a very naughty squirrel, and made her father and mother very unhappy. Very often they would lie awake at night thinking how they should make her a better child, and kind and pleasant to her brothers and sisters.

When they came home, the day I have mentioned, from their ramble in search of something to eat, they saw that their children looked very sober and unhappy, and Creep, who was the oldest, told them how Bunny had behaved. Creep was a very good squirrel, and her parents could always believe her. She never tried to make her brothers and sisters seem more naughty than they were.

That night, Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel talked about Bunny before they went to sleep, and concluded they _must_ put a stop to her naughty behavior.

The next morning, Bunny’s father got up and asked her to go and walk with him. She went, and they walked in the beautiful wood. There were nuts, and acorns, and berries, and Bunny longed to eat as many as she wanted.

Presently her father told her how very wrong she had behaved, and that he must punish her. So he took her up with his fore paw, and ran up a tree. The tree was very tall, and it was a good while before they got far up. Poor little Bunny was very much frightened. At last they came to a small, dark hole, just large enough for her to turn round in. Here her father put her in, and told her she must stay there. Then he went away, and left her here alone, and she could hear her father’s feet pat along the tree as he went down, and then the dry leaves on the ground rustle as he ran over them.

Dinner time came, and Bunny hoped her father would come with some dinner. But no,--he did not come. She began to cry, for she was hungry. She felt with her paw all round, and could only find one little acorn and some dried leaves. She looked out of the hole, but was afraid to go out, it was so high up.

She now began to feel very sorry. She knew how unkind she had been to her brothers and sisters. She cried, and thought if her father would come and take her home, she would not crowd and push and fret any more.

Supper time came, but she could not hear any one coming.

The sun set,--it began to grow dark, and the winds blew and whistled through the trees. At last, down poured the rain, and it came into the hole, and poor little Bunny was completely wet.

Presently she thought she heard a scratching and a patting on the leaves, and then upon the tree; and very soon up came her father. He saw that little Bunny looked sorry. She told her father she would try and be a good, pleasant squirrel if he would take her home, and give her some supper. So he took her up with his paw, and down the tree they went, and soon got home to their very warm nest. Here was a fine supper of sweet acorns--and the family were all glad to see little Bunny again, and whenever she began to be naughty, she thought of the dark hole where she had been left alone and without supper, and she became a very good little squirrel, and was ever afterwards a great comfort to her parents.

THE RAFT.

Do you remember any thing about Jonas;--how they found him by the side of the road and brought him home? When Rollo’s father found him, he meant to have sent him to the poor-house, where all poor boys are taken care of, but he kept him in his house a few days first, and he found that he was a very good boy. He had a great many faults, but he was a good-natured, pleasant boy, and he was willing to learn, and so Rollo’s father thought he would let him stay and live with him, and work for him.

Jonas was very industrious and faithful. Do you know what industrious means? Do you know what faithful means? He was kind too. He was very kind to Rollo. He used to help Rollo a great deal, and play with him, and tell him stories.

There was a beautiful brook very near the house which Rollo lived in. I have made you a picture of the elm yard, behind the house. By and by, I shall make you a picture of all the house, and the trees, and fields around it, and the brook, and then you will understand it all exactly. Now I can only tell you there was a brook, and Jonas used to take Rollo down to the brook sometimes to play. The brook was wide, and the water flowed slowly and smoothly, but it was not very deep. Jonas liked to be near the water. He had sailed over the seas, and he liked the water.

One day Jonas found two great logs on the shore of the brook. He rolled them into the water. Then he went up to the house and got some pieces of board, and a hammer and some nails. He gave Rollo the hammer and nails to carry, and he carried the boards. He walked back then to the pond. He floated the logs side by side, and nailed the boards across, and then he stood upon it, and it bore him up on the water. Jonas called it his raft. Then he took a pole and pushed himself off from the shore and shouted, “HURRAH, HURRAH.”

Rollo stood upon the shore looking at him, and Rollo too shouted, “HURRAH, HURRAH.”

Then Rollo said, “Let me get on and sail too.”

“No,” said Jonas, “not till I ask your mother if she is willing.”

That day when they went home, Rollo asked his father and mother if they were willing that he should sail on Jonas’s raft. His father said he would go down and look at it. When he came to the brook, he was surprised to see such a good strong raft, and he said that Rollo might sail on it, if they would both be careful. Then Jonas got on before, and pushed with his pole, and Rollo sat behind and held on, and they sailed away up towards the bridge. You can see them in the picture. You can see the raft, and Jonas pushing with a pole, and Rollo holding on, and the brook, and the bridge. Rollo and Jonas had a great many good sails on this raft.

CONTRARY CHARLES.

Do you know what a contrary boy is? I will tell you. He is one who is never satisfied with what he has, but always wants something different. If I were to say to you, “Come, James, and see what a pretty _picture_ I have got here;” and you should say, “No, I don’t want a picture, you said you would bring me a pretty book,”--that would be being _contrary_. If your father should bring you home a little cart to draw about the room, and you should say, “I don’t want a cart, I don’t like carts, I want a horse and whip, like William’s;” that would be being very contrary.

Now I knew a little boy once, who was unhappy a great deal of the time, because he would not be pleased with the playthings he had, but always wanted another kind, or something else. This little boy had a very kind father and mother, who loved him very much, and who tried to make him happy. They bought him good clothes to wear: they gave him good things to eat whenever he was hungry, and they bought him a great many pretty playthings. But though they were so kind, this boy was sometimes so naughty as to cry when they gave him a new plaything, because he had wanted a bunch of jack-straws, perhaps, instead of a pretty box of wooden blocks. If they had bought him some jack-straws, he would have wanted the blocks or something else. Nobody liked to give Charles any playthings or sugar-plums or any thing, because they did not make him happy: and they did not make him happy because he would not be pleased, but always thought of something else which he fancied he would rather have.

One day, Charles’ mother came into the room where he was playing, and said, “Charles, little brother William is going to walk with Susan. Should you like to go too?”

“Yes,” said he, “but I shall want to wear my new cap.”

“But I told you the other day,” said his mother, “that you could not wear it for a whole week again, because you threw it upon the floor when you came in yesterday, instead of hanging it on the nail.”

“Then I don’t want to go,” said Charles.

“Very well,” said his mother, and calling to Susan, she told her she need not wait any longer.

“But I _shall_ want to go,” said Charles, beginning to cry.

“You must not go now,” said his mother, “for you said you did not want to go, just because you felt contrary, and out of humor.”

His mother then sat down to work. Charles, finding it was useless to cry, dried his tears, and began throwing his playthings about the room.

“Don’t you do so,” said his mother, “you will break that pretty box, and your white cards, with the pretty colored letters, will get soiled, and not fit to be used.”

“I don’t care if they do,” said Charles, “it is not a pretty box, and I don’t like the cards.”

His mother rose, took away all his playthings, and left him sitting upon the floor, with nothing to do. As she took no notice of his cross looks, he presently went to the window, and stood on a little cricket, looking to see the horses and carriages passing, and soon he began to feel pleasantly again.

“Oh! mother,” said he, “there are two beautiful little dogs in the street, and a little boy running after them. Oh! how I should like a little dog. Mother, will you buy me one?” and he ran to his mother and looked up in her face.

His mother laid down her work, and took him in her lap. “What would you do with a dog,” said she, “if you had one?”

“Oh! I should play with him; I would put some things in my cart, and tie the dog to it, and let him draw it to market; just like the dog in William’s picture.”

“But I am afraid,” said his mother, “that if your father should buy you a dog you would sometimes get out of humor with him, and then you would say it was an ugly dog, and you did not want it any more.”

“No, I would not,” said Charles; “I should always love my little dog.”

“So you said, if I would buy you a new cap, you would be a good boy, and never give me any trouble about it; but yesterday you forgot your promise, and did not put it where it belongs; and to-day you have made me very unhappy by your bad temper. And you have displeased God too, for he was looking directly into your heart when you said you did not want to go with Susan, and saw that you were saying what was not true.”

“But I will remember next time, if you will only get me a little dog.”

Just then William came into the room with a large piece of cake in his hand, which a lady had given him. He went up to his brother, and breaking it in two pieces offered him one of them.

“No, I want the other piece,” said Charles.

“But I can’t give it to you,” said William; “I want it myself.”

“Then I won’t have any,” said Charles, impatiently.

“Keep all the cake yourself, William,” said his mother; “Charles must not have any, because he is not a good boy.”

“But I do want some,” said Charles, beginning to cry very loud. Then his mother went to the door, and calling Susan, told her to take Charles into the other room, and keep him there until he was perfectly pleasant and good-humored. So you see Charles lost a pleasant walk, and a nice piece of cake; and, after all, had to be sent away from his kind mother just because he would be a contrary boy. Do you think he was happy?

The next afternoon, as these two little boys were playing in the yard, they looked up, and saw a carriage, drawn by two large, white horses, stop at the door. It was their aunt’s. She had brought her little son and daughter, named James and Mary, to spend the afternoon with their cousins. As soon as they were out of the carriage, they ran to their cousins, and all looked as happy as if they were expecting to have a noble, good time; and so they were.

Their aunt went into the house, and the children played together out in the yard. When they were tired of that, they went into the mowing field, where the hay was spread to dry, and began to throw it upon each other. This they enjoyed very much till Charles began to cry, and say they should not throw the hay upon him. He wanted to _pelt_ the others, but was not willing to have them pelt him. So this contrary boy spoilt the whole play, and he cried so loud that his mother had to call him into the house. When he was gone, James lay down in the hay, and told his sister and cousin to cover him up in it. When he was hidden entirely, so that they could not see him, he jumped up suddenly, and ran to catch them with an arm full of hay, to _pay_ them for treating him so. They laughed very loud, and were very happy, now they had no one to disturb them with crying. They were soon called in to tea.

Charles had not been very well in the morning, and his mother was afraid to give him as many strawberries in his milk as she did the rest. So Charles began to cry, and said he would not have any. His mother then sent him out of the room, and did not allow him to return until his cousins had gone.

You see how many pleasant things he lost by being so contrary. His mother said she could not buy him a dog until he had learned to be a good, pleasant boy. His cousins said they did not want to go and see him again, for he spoiled their play; and when his mother went to see his aunt, she took William, but left Charles at home. She said she could not take him with her until he was willing to do as others wished to have him, and not always cry to have his own way. By and by, Charles learned that it was better to be pleasant all the time, and not get out of humor when things did not exactly suit him; and then every body loved him, for he was a good little boy in every other respect.

FROST ON THE WINDOWS.

Charles was a little boy. One cold winter’s morning his mother brought him down stairs. It was very early. She put him down on the carpet, before a bright, warm fire. Then she opened the shutters to see if it was light. Charles saw something white and shining upon the windows, and called to her, and said, “Oh, mother, mother, how beautiful! See how the windows are painted all white. _There_ is a mountain, and another,--and--and I see another on the top of it; and there are some trees, and flowers--and--”

“Yes, they are very beautiful,” said Charles’ mamma, as she stood dressing her little boy.

“What makes it look so? It isn’t light like day,--and oh! mother, see, there is a bright star in the sky!”

“It is not quite daylight yet; pretty soon it will grow lighter, and the little star will not look so bright, and then the sky will grow brighter, and it will be daylight.”

“What is it now; is it night?”

“No, it is day-dawn.”

“Day-dawn;--well, it’s very pretty, I think, mother. O, see, there’s a cow! I think those are pictures painted on the window, aren’t they?”

“No, they are not pictures. Don’t you know what they are?”

“I see something that looks like a horse that hasn’t got any head, and some trees that haven’t got any branches, and a great many more mountains and rocks. I think they are pictures, but they look white, just like snow.”

“Well, Charles, the cold made those pictures. We call it frost on the windows, and it came last night while we were all asleep. It was very cold indeed last night, and a great many things froze very hard. Now hark, what do you hear?”

“Hark! I hear something that ticks just like a watch. What is it?”

“It is the cold frost which has frozen some water in the tumbler. Last night it was water, and I drank some of it. Now look here; it is ice, and it looks very beautiful. See all those little marks and spots. Those are little bubbles. Now it goes _click, click_, again. See how hard it is; I cannot break it with my finger.”

“Mother, will the frost stay all day on the windows, or go away when it is daylight?”

“Not when it is daylight, but when the room is warm. There is a good, bright fire in the grate, and it will make the room warm, and by and by the sun will rise out of doors and shine on the glass, and warm it, and the frost will melt. Then it will be water and run down in drops.”

“Well, I think it is very pretty frost, and I don’t think I could make such horses, and trees, and cows.”

SHOOTING A BEAR.

Once there was a foolish man, who was always afraid of bears. He was always afraid there were bears in the woods around him, and that they would come and eat him up.

One day he thought he would take his gun and go out and shoot a bear. So he took down his gun, and put in some powder to load it, and then he put in some paper to keep the powder in, and then he put in a bullet over that. The bullet was a round, heavy thing, like a round stone. He put another piece of paper in next, to keep the bullet down. How do you suppose he got the paper down to the bottom of his gun? Why, he had a long, slender iron, which he called his ramrod, and he pushed the paper down with his long, slender ramrod. Then he pulled the ramrod out, and slid it into its proper place by the side of his gun.