« VorigeDoorgaan »
minds not to quarrel. How many little happy birdhomes there would then be!
A gentleman had a little daughter named Susan and one evening, when she was in the room, he told a story of Dr. Doddridge's young child, which pleased her very much. The doctor once asked his daughter, then about six years old, what made everybody love her, and she replied, "I don't know, indeed, father, unless it is because I love everybody." This reply very much pleased Susan. "If that is all that is necesary to be loved," thought she, "I will soon make everybody love me." Her father then mentioned a remark of the Rev. John Newton, that he considered the world to be divided into two great heaps, one of happiness and the other of misery; and it was his daily business to take as much as possible from the heap of misery, and add all he could to that of happiness. "Now," said Susan, "I will begin to-morrow, and try to make everybody happy. Instead of thinking of myself, I will try what I can do for somebody else. Father has often told me that this is the best way to be happy myself, and I am determined to see what I can do."
So let every boy and girl seek for the grace of the Holy Spirit, and in the strength which he will give to make this a "happy new year:" then will you be ready to see its close on earth, or to pass to a better state above. Love to each other, love to all, and love to God, in every one of your young hearts, leading you to sweet acts and words all your days-these will give you a happy year.
OUR DOG CARLO.
"OUR dog Carlo is a noble fellow, cousin Mary," said George Jeffry, as he fondly stroked the shaggy coat of the favourite; "he is a great dog, indeed he is."
"He is great enough, George, if you mean big," replied Mary.
"But I don't mean merely big, Mary, I mean good and brave and generous; father says truly great people always have these qualities. Come here, Carlo, here is some food for you; I will sit down and put the plate on my knee, so that you may have it comfortably. You like it very much, I see. You would not wonder, Mary, at my loving Carlo, if you only knew half the good things he has done in his life. Father says he has been more useful than many a man; why he conquered crossness by kindness; he saved the life of a boy, and through his brave conduct a ragged school was begun."
"How can you say such things, George ?" asked Mary, with a look of surprise.
"Because they are all true, cousin; and as Carlo can listen to the story without becoming proud, I will tell you all about it." "Oh do, George; stool to sit beside you."
but wait one moment till I fetch a
Well, when Carlo first came to our house he was a very little pup. Just then sister Jane had a big white cat, and pussy, from long indulgence, had grown so selfish that she was very jealous when the new pet was given to us. She hissed, snarled, and tried her claws on poor Carlo, giving him all the bad treatment
in her power. But the good fellow bore eve ything patiently, and when a few months had passed he was four times the size of Jane's cat, and could afford not only to be patient, but generous. He treated her quite gently, as if it was his duty to take care of her, allowing her even to share his meals, and pick out the best bits for herself. Perhaps she was softened by his kindness, or perhaps she thought it wiser to be on good terms with the great fellow; but, however, they have been the best friends possible ever since."
"That was noble indeed," said Mary; "I know when any one teases me I like to do the same to them; but Carlo returned good for evil. But, George, what about the boy and the school ?"
"You shall hear, Mary; and mind, now, it is a true story. One day, when we had had Carlo about two or three years, he was passing, with father, near a new bridge in our town, when a poor little boy, who was bringing mortar to the masons, slipped his foot and fell into the water. The people screamed and shouted. One man said the way to save him was to throw a rope; another cried that they should put out a boat: but neither rope nor boat could be found at the moment, and the poor boy had sunk and risen more than once. A word from father was enough; Carlo dashed into the water and brought out Charlie Porter, pale and senseless, but alive. Charlie was an orphan, only recovering from the fever that had carried off his mother, and he had crept from the hospital to try to earn a crust of bread for himself. When the people pressed round him, as his senses returned, to ask him where his home was, that they might take him there,
he bust into tears, and declared that he had no home, no friends, no money. You may be sure poor Charlie did not want a supper that night. But when father had seen him well fed and lodged, he felt that was not enough, as many other homeless boys must be wandering about the town in want or sin; so he consulted some friends, and they resolved to begin a school where such children might be taught, and lodged, and fed. And so they did, and Charlie was the first pupil. And so, Mary, I say our Carlo was the founder of that school; don't you think he was? Indeed, Charlie Porter thinks so too; for, after being a long time there, father employed him in our shop, and with some of the very first money he earned, he bought this brass collar for Carlo. Just look how nice it is, with these words engraved outside: For Carlo, from a great debtor.' And surely 'tis no wonder Charlie is thankful; for he says that at the time he was so near being drowned he was quite ignorant, and had never heard of the love of Jesus. But now, Mary, I am sure Charles loves the Saviour and tries to obey him. So now you see why we call our Carlo a noble dog."
Aunt Susan's voice was heard, desiring Mary to come and set the table for tea; so the little girl ran to do as she was bid, while George and Carlo went off to look for uncle Norton.
GOD is not glorified by anything we do, if we do not offer it to him through the mediation and merits of Jesus Christ.
TREASURES OF THE SNOW.
"He saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth.-Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow ?"-Job xxxvii. 6; xxxviii. 22.
THE trees are all covered with snow,
To gaze on the beautiful sight.
It seems like a mantle of love,
That doth from the heavens descend.
And may it not also, my dear,
Resemble that raiment of white,
For 'tis when the trees are all barc
The snow will soon vanish away,