Book: The Nest in the Honeysuckles, and other Stories

V >> Various >> The Nest in the Honeysuckles, and other Stories




"How happy I am this evening!" he said to her. She put her arm around
him, and drew him towards her.

"What makes you so happy?" she inquired.

"Because I have been trying to control my temper, I suppose"--was his
answer.

"You have not been angry to-day, have you?"

"No, mother."

"Did you pray about it, Willie?"

"Yes, mother. I prayed all day for help."

"How did you pray?"

"I said, Forgive my sins, and give me a new heart."

"God heard your prayers, and he has helped you to control your temper.
God always hears prayer, and helps those who ask his aid. I hope you
will never forget to pray for what you need," said his mother. Willie
smiled, and kissed her, and went out of doors again to enjoy the
evening--

"So cool, so calm, so bright."

Willie is generally a good boy, but he has a quick temper. When three
or four years old, he would sometimes get very angry. I have even
known him to throw things at children with whom he was playing, if
they did any thing to offend him. He did so one day when his mother
was from home. She was much grieved when she heard it, and talked
seriously with him. It made a deep impression on his mind. He speaks
of it now with great solemnity, and asks his mother if she remembers
it. He feels that he committed a great sin. He knows it is wrong to
let his temper govern his reason, and he is struggling to control
himself. I think he will succeed.

I knew his grandfather when I was a little girl, and I remember
hearing him say that he was naturally quick-tempered; but, although I
lived in the same house with him, and saw him under a great variety
of circumstances, I never heard him speak a hasty word. I hope Willie
will obtain as perfect control over himself, and, if he lives to
manhood, that his friends will be able to say of him what I can say of
his grandfather.

Willie was, at one time, playing with some children, and found he was
growing angry. He immediately left them, and sat down on the stairs
alone. Pretty soon they followed him. He did not feel entirely
good-natured, so he again left them, and went into the library. He
shut the door and prayed to his Father in heaven for strength to
conquer himself. He remained there alone till he felt he had obtained
the victory.

Willie is not the only little boy who has a quick temper, and I tell
this story about him for the sake of the dear children who sometimes
get angry. I hope, like Willie, they will learn to go to God for help,
and then, like his, their countenances will be radiant with gladness;
and they, too, can say, "How happy I am!"

"An angry man stirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in
transgression."

"He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that
ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."

"He that hath no rule over his own spirit, is like a city that is
broken down, and without walls."




"EVER SO MANY BEAUTIFUL THINGS."


"There are ever so many beautiful things up in the sky, mother!" said
little Eddie, as he sat in his mother's lap, leaning his head upon her
encircling arm.

The clouds had gathered about the horizon, and assumed many beautiful
and fantastic shapes. Some of them were gorgeously coloured with the
rays of the departing sun, and were shaded from the most delicate rose
to the darkest, richest crimson. As the sun receded farther and
farther behind the green hills, they grew darker and darker, and the
imaginative boy had seen fancied ships with their sails spread;
steam-vessels with clouds of smoke rolling from their chimneys;
mountains piled upon mountains; trees, birds, and many other wondrous
things which filled his infant mind with admiration.

Soon the stars twinkled forth, and they awoke a new interest. At first
they appeared one by one, as if timidly venturing to look down upon
our beautiful planet, and when fully assured that the king of day had
disappeared, they came forth faster and more numerously, till the
whole heavens were bespangled with their glittering brightness. Then
their companion, the moon, came slowly up, shining with a soft and
mellow light, a new beauty in the "blue wilderness of interminable
air."

Eddie had long gazed silently before he uttered the exclamation,
"There are ever so many beautiful things up in the sky!" and I suppose
he had many thoughts which it would have been pleasant for his mother
to know. He did not often sit up so late that he could see the stars.

Eddie is not the only one who has been charmed with the glowing
sunset, the gray twilight, or the starry firmament. David loved to
look upon the works of God. In one of his psalms, he says, "When I
consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars
which thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful of him,
and the son of man, that thou visitest him!" It was astonishing to
David, that God, who was so infinitely superior to man, and who had
given such proofs of his power and greatness in the creation of the
heavens, should condescend to notice him, to provide for his minutest
wants, and to protect him from danger. I suppose this psalm was
written in the night, when the sweet singer of Israel had been looking
at just such a sky as drew from Eddie his exclamation of admiration.

I often think, as I look abroad, how wonderful it is that God has made
every thing so beautiful. We need never be weary in studying his
works. The more we learn of them, the more we realize his greatness
and perfection. "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the
firmament showeth his handiwork."

When you look at the clear blue sky, do you remember who has spread it
out, and who has created the innumerable worlds which we see, when
darkness covers our earth? "There are," indeed, "ever so many
beautiful things up in the sky," and it was a Father's hand that
placed them there. They are for us to enjoy, and many a lesson of love
and confidence have they taught God's children. Dear little Eddie! I
hope he will always love nature, and early learn to "look through
nature up to nature's God."

I shall never forget a drive with my father, when I was a child so
small that I sat on a little footstool in the carriage, between him
and my mother. We were returning from a visit to Aunt Harriet, at
whose house we had been spending the day. It was a fine evening. The
air was balmy and pleasant. I remember how the frogs sung in the low
ground, and how we listened to their quaint music. We had not ridden
far before the moon rose, and the stars, one by one, appeared. My
father had a true love for nature, and for whatever was beautiful or
grand. We drove on without speaking for a time, each enjoying the
evening. My father broke the silence by repeating that beautiful hymn
of Addison's, commencing with these lines--

"The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim."

I was awed by the reverence of his manner, and I felt myself in the
presence of my Maker,--a mere speck amid his vast creations. An
ineffaceable impression was made on my mind, young as I was. My father
died many years ago, while I was still a child, but the lesson of that
hour has not been forgotten.

[Illustration]




LILY AND HER DUCKLINGS.


The white duck, Lily, made a nest on the ground, in a small enclosure,
from which some tame rabbits had been removed. She gathered the
scattered straw into one corner, and made a much neater nest than the
other ducks did, who laid their eggs under the wood-pile among the
small chips.

She laid several large, smooth, white eggs, and when she had as many
as she could conveniently take care of, she began to sit on them to
keep them warm, till the little ducks should be ready to peck their
way out. She plucked the soft white down from her breast, to line the
nest, and to make it of a more even temperature for the eggs; and,
whenever she left to procure food, or to take a short swim on the
pond, she carefully covered them.

The duck cannot spread her wings as wide as the hen, so she has to be
much more particular about her nest. She makes it deeper and warmer
than Biddy. It is wonderful with what skill all animals rear their
young. It shows the great goodness and kindness of God, that he should
thus fit the creatures he has made for the duties they must perform.
His care is continual, not only over us, but over them all. He hears
the young ravens when they cry, and the ducks and the chickens are not
forgotten by him. To the duck he has not given the brooding wings of
the hen-mother; but he has given her a coat of down, from which she
can make a warm bed for her cherished eggs.

It was a very pretty sight to see Lily on her nest, almost covered by
the straw, her head turned back, and her broad yellow bill partially
hidden beneath her wing. The down lay scattered about like
snow-flakes. She looked patient and hopeful, as she opened her eyes to
see who had intruded on her solitude.

When a sitting-duck goes in search of food, she acts so queerly that
you would surely laugh to see her, if you are not accustomed to her
odd ways. She bends her head back, and draws it close to her body, and
waddles about in the greatest haste, quacking all the time.

Lily waited four weeks before the ducklings appeared. Some of the
brood were of a straw-colour, and some were marked with spots of
black. They were all pretty. When I first saw them, they were partly
hidden beneath their mother. Their glossy bills and bright eyes were
visible, but they were afraid to venture from their shelter. They were
provided with water and food in the old rabbit-house, because, if they
followed their mother to the pond, the musk-rats would probably devour
some of them.

While the little ones remained with their mother, they were safe, but
when they became discontented, and wandered from home, they were
sometimes lost. The rats were their principal enemies, and those from
which they had most to fear. They were constantly lurking about to
catch the ducklings, and sometimes the defenseless little ones ran
directly into their deep holes, from which there was no possibility of
escape. Quite a number of Lily's family came to an untimely end in
this way.

When I saw them roving about in the high grass, seeking in vain to
find their way to their mother's presence, and hearing their calls for
help, and her answering cry of distress, I could but think of the dear
children who forget their mother's counsel, and leave her protection
before they are old enough to take care of themselves.

The ducklings, I observed, did not know who were their friends; for,
one day, when the prettiest of the brood had found a way out of the
rabbit-house, I thought I would catch it, and give it back to its
mother. It was much alarmed, and Lily was in equal trouble. It ran
away from me, thinking, perhaps that I was a greater enemy than the
rats, against which it had probably been warned. Just as I was going
to put my hand on it, it hid itself in a rat-hole, from which there
was no escape. I could not rescue it, neither could its mother. The
next morning, when I went to look at the ducks, and give them their
breakfast, there lay the poor duckling, close by the fatal hole. The
rat had brought it out, and partly devoured it.

Children often think they know what is best for them quite as well, if
not better, than their parents, and when told not to do this or that,
they are not satisfied to obey quietly, but ask, "Why not?" I think
children may often be told why they are bidden to do this, or
forbidden to do that; but they should obey their parents promptly,
whether they know their reasons or not.

Sometimes there are reasons which children cannot understand,
sometimes there are reasons which it would not be wise to tell them,
and sometimes it is not convenient to give the why and the wherefore.
Children are commanded to obey their parents,--not the reasons their
parents may give them. The young ducks could not understand why their
mother did not wish them to go out of that enclosure. They could not
comprehend the dangers which surrounded them. They saw the birds
flying about in the air, and heard the hum of the bees as they were
going abroad for honey, or returning loaded to the hive, and they
could not understand why they might not wander about too. The red
clover looked very beautiful, and the white clover was so fragrant,
they longed to ramble in it. They thought their mother unnecessarily
strict, because she wished to keep them with her, instead of
permitting them to see all the pretty things of which they could now
and then catch a glimpse, as they peeped through the cracks of the
rabbit-house.

Children sometimes feel unpleasantly because they are not permitted to
play in the street. Ah! they are as ignorant of danger as the poor
ducklings and they are too young to understand the peril to which they
are exposed. Even if their mother should explain it to them, they
could realize but little about it. It is by far the better way for
children to feel that their mother knows best, and to be satisfied
that her reasons are good and sufficient even if they do not know what
they are.

I once heard a distinguished clergyman say he had always observed that
those persons who had learned to obey their parents promptly, most
readily yielded to the claims of God, and became converted, while
those who had always liked their own way had generally a long, severe
struggle, before they were willing to give up their sins, and
oftentimes could not make up their minds to do so, and, though deeply
convicted, remained impenitent.

It is a fearful thought that, if you form a habit of disobedience to
your parents, it may cost you the salvation of your soul.




PRAYING FOR RAIN.


It was the first of July. There had been no rain for several weeks.
Every one feared there would be a drought. The farmer looked anxiously
upon his fields of corn, whose deep green leaves had not yet begun to
turn yellow, and upon the potatoes, whose blossoms were still
unwithered. They could not long remain thus beautiful and thriving, if
the refreshing rain was withheld. The ground was so dry that, in
hoeing the garden, no moisture could be observed.

Mrs. Dudley talked with her children about the need of rain, and the
propriety of praying to our heavenly Father to water the earth, that
it might "bring forth and bud," and "give seed to the sower, and bread
to the eater." She told them how Elijah prayed for rain, after there
had been none in the land of Canaan for three years and six months,
and how God heard his prayer, "and the heaven gave rain, and the earth
brought forth her fruit."

This great drought was a judgment upon the people of Israel for their
sin in departing from God, and worshipping idols. There had been, in
consequence of this want of rain, a "sore famine." We read in the
book of Kings of one poor woman, who had only a handful of meal in a
barrel, and a little oil in a cruse. When Elijah met her, and asked
her for water, and a morsel of bread, she told him this was all she
had, and that she was gathering two sticks, that she might bake it for
herself and her son, that they might eat and die! She know not where
to find any more food for herself or her child, and expected to "pine
away, stricken through for want of the fruits of the field," and to
die with hunger.

Elijah bid her not to fear, but go and do what she had said. He asked
her to make him a little cake first, and bring it to him, and
afterwards make one for herself and son. "For thus saith the Lord God
of Israel, the barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse
of oil fail, until the day that the Lord sendeth rain upon the earth."

It would not have been strange, if this widow of Zarephath had been
unwilling to divide her handful of meal with Elijah, or if she had
doubted the promise which was made to her, but she did not. She baked
the little cake for the stranger, and afterwards one for herself and
her boy, and there was plenty of meal and of oil left for another
repast. "She, and he, and her house, did eat of it many days." The
barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, till the
Lord sent rain upon the earth, and her wants could be supplied in the
usual way. She did not lose the reward promised to those who give a
cup of cold water to the friends of God.

God does not willingly afflict the creatures he has made. He is a
gracious God, merciful, and of great kindness, and has compassion even
on the beasts of the field. When Jonah complained that he spared
Nineveh, because its inhabitants humbled themselves before him, and
turned from their evil way, after having sent him to prophesy to them
that in forty days it should be overthrown, he said to Jonah, "Should
I not spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than six-score
thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and
their left; and also much cattle?"

In this long drought in the land of Canaan, the cattle must have
suffered greatly, and many of them probably perished. Indeed, we read
that Ahab, the king of Israel, and Obadiah, the governor of his house,
searched the land for the fountains and brooks, to find grass to save,
the horses and mules alive, that they might not be all lost.

God is a Father, and, like a tender, loving father, he removes his
chastisements so soon as they have produced the effect designed. He
was "grieved for the misery of Israel." He told Elijah he would send
rain. The prophet went to Ahab, who, when he saw him, asked, "Art thou
he that troubleth Israel?" Elijah answered, it was Ahab, and his
father's house, who troubled Israel, because they had forsaken the
commandments of the Lord, and worshipped Baalim.

Elijah went up to the top of Mount Carmel, and earnestly prayed for
rain. God had promised that he would send it, and Elijah no doubt
pleaded this promise, as he interceded with him. He directed his
servant to go where he could look towards the sea. He went and looked,
and said, "There is nothing." Elijah was not discouraged. He knew God
would remember his promise, and he sent him seven times more. The
seventh time the servant returned, and said, "Behold, there ariseth a
little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand." It grew rapidly
larger and larger, till the sky was black with clouds and wind, and
there was a great rain.

James, in his Epistle, says, "The effectual fervent prayer of the
righteous man availeth much," and he mentions this instance of
prevailing prayer in Elijah, as an encouragement to all Christians to
ask for needed blessings. "Elijah was a man subject to like passions
as we are," he tells us, and if he prevailed with God, so may others.
God is the "same yesterday, to-day, and forever." He does not change.
He is always a hearer of prayer.

Mrs. Dudley also told her children that God hears the cry of all who
are in distress. She referred to one of the psalms of David, where he
describes a storm at sea, and the great terror of the sailors. "Then
they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivers them out of
their distresses."

God does not forget any creature he has made. He provides the springs
and the streams to give drink to the beasts of the field, and to the
birds which sing among the branches. He causes the grass to grow for
the cattle, and herb for the service of man. He feeds the fowls, and
clothes the flowers with beauty. He has taught us to ask for our daily
bread, and as this must depend upon fruitful seasons it is proper we
should ask for rain, whenever it is needed.

The children were quite interested in what their mother had told them.
They knew that she earnestly desired rain, and that she often asked
God to send it, before vegetation perished for want of it. They
watched the sky with great anxiety, and when it became cloudy, and
continued so from day to day, they thought surely a storm was near.
After several days, there was a slight shower, but not enough to
refresh the plants. Mary was greatly disappointed "I thought," (she
said to her mother,) "it was going to rain in answer to your prayer."

"I thank God for that little rain," said Eddy, as he talked about it.
Mrs. Dudley told him that was right, but they ought to pray for more,
it was so much needed.

The next Sunday Mrs. Dudley was not well, and could not attend
church. When her children returned she asked Mary if they prayed for
rain. "No, mother!" she answered; "but I did."

The sky continued cloudy for some time, and then the rain gently fell
for a day and a night, and all nature was refreshed and cheered.

Soon afterwards I left Mrs. Dudley's family. When I had been absent
about a fortnight, I received a letter from Mary. She told me about
the bantams, and the flowers, and many other things in which I was
interested. She wrote that it had "rained on Sunday, and all day
Monday. I cannot help thinking," she continued, "how good God is to
send us rain when we most need it, and what cause we have for
thanksgiving."

I hope Mrs. Dudley's children will never forget that God is the giver
of every good gift, and that he likes to have people ask him for what
they need. Children should think of God as their best friend, and
should go to him in prayer, feeling as sure he can and does hear them,
as they are that their mother does. In a season of drought they should
ask him for rain, and when he sends it to make vegetation grow, they
should thank him for that evidence of his loving-kindness.




THE GRAPE-CLUSTERS.


Very beautiful were the grape-clusters as they hung on the graceful
vine, and very tempting to the hand that was near enough to pluck
them.

Two little boys came on an errand to the lady who lived in the house
which the grape-vine shaded. It was reviving to come out of the city's
heat and dust, and enter that pleasant parlour, screened from the
fiercer rays of the summer's sun by its green curtain of leaves. The
hot pavement and the glaring walls of the city seemed far distant, for
the charm of the country was spread over that retired room. All city
sights were shut out, and peace and quiet reigned within.

The lady was sitting at her desk, writing, when the boys entered. She
spoke to them kindly, for they were objects of her kind care, although
they did not live with her. They handed her a note which required an
answer. She gave them permission to play in the yard, while she should
write it. They were very happy, for it was an unusual pleasure for
them. They examined the flowers which grew in the narrow bed by the
high, close fence, and then they began to look wistfully at the
rich bunches of grapes, which were within their reach. The lady had
not told them that they might gather any, and they felt that they
ought not to do so. But the tempter was near, and they listened to his
suggestions.

[Illustration: The lady was sitting at her desk writing, when the boys
entered.]

Looking towards the house to see if they were observed, they
cautiously went up to the vine, and each gathered a bunch of grapes.
They ate them secretly, that they might avoid detection; but although
they knew it not, there was an eye in the house that saw them, and
there was another eye from which their act was not hid--the eye of the
all-seeing God.

When the note was written, the boys were recalled to the parlour, and
pleasantly dismissed. I think they must have felt somewhat ashamed,
that they had abused the confidence reposed in them, and had been
guilty of stealing from their kind friend.

After they left, the lady was informed what they had done. When she
visited "the home," where they lived, she mentioned the fact to their
teacher, although she did not allude to it to them.

The teacher took occasion to talk with her scholars about being honest
and trustworthy, and asked them what they should think of children
who, when sent on errands and permitted to go into the yard to enjoy
themselves, should stealthily take the fruit which grew there. They,
of course, condemned such conduct. She gave them the instruction they
needed, and endeavoured to impress its importance upon their minds.

Soon after the close of the school, the two boys who had taken the
grapes went to her and told her what they had done. She talked with
them kindly. They seemed truly penitent. She asked them if they would
like to go to the lady and acknowledge their fault. They said they
should, and immediately they put on their straw hats, and their clean
sacks, and went cheerfully to make all the reparation in their power
for the fault they had committed. Confession is always pleasant to the
truly penitent.

Again they stood in that shaded parlour. They were affectionately
welcomed as before. They confessed freely and fully, what they had
done on their previous visit, and asked forgiveness, which was readily
granted. Just as they were leaving, they turned and inquired, "Can you
ever trust us again?" The lady assured them that she could, and they
went away happy and strengthened in their good purposes.

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