Book: The Nest in the Honeysuckles, and other Stories

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




[Illustration]




"SUSAN WILL BE HAPPIER IF I GO WITH HER."


Mary Wilson is a little girl only nine years old. She loves her mother
very dearly, and she is always happy to be with her.

Mrs. Wilson lives in the country, not far from a pretty village, to
which she occasionally goes to make a few purchases or call on a
friend. She sometimes takes Mary with her, who always enjoys such a
walk. She trips along by her mother's side, sometimes taking her hand,
and sometimes stooping down to gather a wild-flower which blossoms by
the roadside; and then perhaps she runs on and watches the brook that
trickles down the hill, on its way to the river. Her smiling face and
sparkling eyes show she is happy.

One day when she was all ready, with her white sack and blue
sun-bonnet on, to accompany her mother along the bank of the river to
the village, Susan Grafton called for her to go with her in another
direction, on an errand for Mrs. Grafton. Mary was greatly tried. She
wished very much to go with her mother, but Susan did not like to go
alone. What to do she did not know. Tears were in her eyes, as she
told her mother her trouble and asked her what she should do. Mrs.
Wilson left the decision entirely to Mary. After a short struggle she
smiled through her tears, and said, "I should rather go with you,
mother, but Susan will be happier if I go with her. I think I had
better go with her."

Mrs. Wilson kissed the quivering lip of her daughter, and told her she
had done right in thinking of Susan's happiness. Her heart ascended in
prayer to God for his blessing on her dear child, that she might ever
be unselfish and self-sacrificing.

Would not most children be happier than they now are, if, like Mary,
they tried to make others happy, and were willing to deny themselves
for the sake of their companions?

Although Mary was so much grieved to lose her walk with her mother,
she was far happier that afternoon than she would have been without an
approving conscience.

Will you not pray, dear children, for a kind, unselfish heart?

[Illustration]




THE NEWS-BOYS' BANK.

PART I.


"How much money have you in the bank?" I heard a gentleman inquire of
a boy. "A dollar and a half," he replied. I looked up, and saw before
me a slender, bright-looking lad, about fourteen years old. The
pantaloons he wore had evidently belonged to a full-grown man, and
were rolled up at the bottom to make them short enough for the present
wearer. His coat had been cut short in the skirts, and the sleeves
hung loosely about his hands. His shirt was not particularly clean,
neither was it very dirty. His face, however, had been nicely washed,
so that there was nothing repulsive about the fellow. The gentleman
talked with him a few moments. I was quite interested in the
conversation and learned from it that he was one of the news-boys of
New York.

[Illustration: First interview with the news-boy.]

Patrick--for by this name I shall call the boy--sleeps at the
lodging-house for news-boys, and is there learning to read. I
concluded that I would go there, and see for myself what had been done
for the improvement and salvation of these energetic, active boys. I
found the building to which I had been directed, but could not readily
find the entrance which led to the room I was seeking. I inquired of
some poorly-dressed children where it was. A boy about ten years old
guided me. He asked if I wanted a boy. I was sorry to say "No," for he
looked so bright and active that it seemed a pity not to give him some
employment.

I ascended one flight of stairs, and another, and still another and
another, before I came to the right door. I knocked, and was admitted
by a gentleman who has the oversight of these boys. The room which I
entered was nicely painted and whitewashed. There were many seats with
desks as in a a schoolroom, and there were books and slates on them.
Maps and pictures hung on the walls, and there was a library for those
who could read.

The room was neat and tidy, and quite inviting in its appearance. At
the farther end of it was an office for the caretaker, and a
bathing-room, where water can be used without stint or measure. The
boys enjoy the free use of the water, though probably many of them
never bathed in their lives, before they came to the lodging-house. If
"cleanliness is next to godliness," much has been already
accomplished.

The school or sitting-room opens into the dormitory. This is a large
and well-ventilated apartment, and, being in the sixth story,
overlooks most of the buildings in the vicinity. There were
accommodations for fifty boys, and the room is large enough for
eighty. Each boy has a separate bed. They are arranged in two tiers,
as in a steamboat. The beds were all neatly made, and looked quite
comfortable. Many of these boys have never slept in a bed except in
this room. The remarks which they make to each other, when comparing
their beds, with their clean sheets and pillow-cases, with the boxes,
areas, and crannies where they have been accustomed to sleep, are very
amusing.

I am happy to know that there has been a constant improvement among
the boys. They grow more orderly, and are more easily restrained, and
some of them give promise of making useful men. They are not allowed
to use profane language, to fight, nor to smoke in the rooms, and
generally manifest much kindness of feeling toward each other.

There was a table in the room, which interested me greatly. It was of
black-walnut. In the top there were one hundred and ten different
holes, large enough to admit a half-dollar. Each of them was numbered.
This was the bank in which Patrick had deposited his money. There were
one hundred and ten little divisions in the drawer, corresponding with
one hundred and ten openings in the top. The boys each have a certain
number for their own use, and if they choose, can safely secure their
day's earnings for a time of need. The superintendent keeps the key
of the drawer.

Several weeks ago, the boys voted not to take their money from the
bank till November, that they might then have the means of purchasing
warm clothes for the winter. I had quite a curiosity to look into the
bank, to see how much the boys had saved. In some of the divisions
there were only a few pennies, while in others there were several
dollars.

I never looked upon any bank with so much pleasure, as I did upon this
simple one of the news-boys. It was teaching them a lesson of economy
and forethought, which I trust they will never forget. When they enjoy
their comfortable coats and warm pantaloons in the cold weather of
winter, they cannot avoid remembering, that it was by taking care of
the pennies, that they were enabled so nicely to clothe themselves.
The news-boys have never been taught the true value of money. They
have not hesitated to gamble it away, or to spend it for segars and
tobacco, and other unnecessary and hurtful things. They have been
exceedingly improvident and have had no idea of laying up any thing
for the future.

One evening, as the boys were gathered in their sitting-room, one of
them was leaning on the bank. He held up a quarter of a dollar between
his thumb and finger, and, looking at his companions, said, "You know
Simpson, the pawnbroker?" "Yes." "He is a friend in need, but _here_
is a friend indeed!" and the bright silver dropped, jingling, into his
bank.

Those news-boys all of them possess more than ordinary intelligence
and energy of character. "Every one of them," as a gentleman said, "is
worth saving." They are sure to make _men_, and to exert an influence
in the world.

After my return from my visit to their rooms, I told some children
about the necessities of these news-boys, and how much they need
better clothing. A little girl, whom I know, has determined to make a
shirt for one of them. I am sure it will be acceptable; for,
frequently, when they first go to the lodging-house, they are so
filthy that something must be given them to make them decent. Perhaps
other children may like to do something to benefit those needy ones,
who have no father nor mother to take care of them and provide for
their wants.


PART II.

When the bank was opened, the first of November it was found to
contain seventy-nine dollars and eleven cents! This sum of money had
been saved in seven weeks, by twenty-four boys. They were quite
astonished at their own success. They learned the lesson by personal
experience, that if they took care of the pennies, the shillings would
take care of themselves. Some of them had saved enough to buy a new
suit of clothes, others enough for pantaloons, and others for a cap or
shoes. They were advised not to spend their money hastily; but a few
were too impatient to wait, and the same evening they received it they
went out to make their purchases. Others laid by their money till
morning.

The news-boys found it was so much better for them to put their money
in the bank, than to spend it in gaming, or for cigars, or in other
useless ways, that they voted to close it again, not to be opened till
December. During the month of November, nineteen boys saved
sixty-three dollars and forty-seven cents. One of them had put in
thirteen dollars. He did not spend it all for himself, but gave a part
of it to his mother to pay her rent.

The boys were delighted with their wealth. "No hard times here!" they
cried. "Money isn't tight with us. There is plenty of it."

One of the boys purchased an entire suit of clothes; and when he made
his appearance among the others, in his nice blue jacket, with bright
buttons, his pantaloons to match, and his blue navy-cap, he was
greeted with cheers. One and another examined his wardrobe, and all
enjoyed his success. "Who are you? Who'd think this was Charley ----? Is
this a news-boy? Who'd believe this was a news-boy?" and various other
exclamations escaped from them. "Charley has done well this time."
Yes, Charley did well, and he will not soon forget the lesson he
learned that month. He knows more of the true use of money than ever
before.

The first of December the boys voted to keep the bank closed till the
third of January. They decided not to have it opened on the first,
because there are so many temptations to spend money that they feared,
if they had it in their pockets, they should part with it foolishly.

One of the news-boys has been recently run over by a stage. I inquired
about him, and learned that he is the very boy whom I met in a
friend's office, and my interest in whom led me first to visit the
lodging-house. This is the third time he has narrowly escaped death.
The omnibus passed directly over his body. When he was taken up, his
companions thought him dying. He was conveyed immediately to the
hospital.

The boys at the lodging-house were saddened by Patrick's troubles.
They expected he would die. They recounted his excellencies of
character. His cheerfulness and ready wit were not forgotten. Patrick
is not a boy of many words, but when he speaks, it is to the purpose.
The boys called at the hospital to see him. The door-keeper said he
never knew a boy who had so many cousins!

The next day Patrick was better. It was found that he was not so much
injured as was at first supposed. There was great rejoicing in the
evening at the lodging-house. A heavy load had been lifted from their
hearts. Patrick would soon be among them again. They were cheerful and
full of life and spirits. "Patrick must be half made of India-rubber!"
they exclaimed, gleefully.

This sympathy with each other is one of the most beautiful traits of
their character, and shows a nature that may be nobly developed. They
cannot but learn much that is good in the hours spent in their
reading-room, as they listen to the instruction of those interested in
their welfare. Many of them have already found good situations, and
give promise of becoming useful men. They appreciate kindness and
civility. "Mr. ---- spoke to me in the street, when he was walking
with another gentleman and _he shook hands with me too_," said one of
them triumphantly, as if he had risen in the scale of being, and was
more worthy of respect, in consequence of the respect with which he
had been treated. Few can estimate the power of sympathy.

"Speak gently, kindly, to the poor;
Let no harsh term be heard;
They have enough they must endure,
Without an unkind word."

"I have never forgotten your words of kindness, when I was poor and
almost discouraged," wrote one lady to another, and no more will any
child of want forget the utterance of a warm, generous heart.

I should have told you, that besides the money the boys put in the
bank, they earn enough to pay for their lodging, six cents a night,
and to purchase their food, and, sometimes, various articles of
clothing. They are obliged to be very active, and to be up early in
the morning. They may be found in all parts of the city, crying their
papers with loud, piercing voices, and running at full speed from
street to street, stopping only to sell papers to any who may buy.

It would be well if they had some occupation which would expose them
less to bad company and unsteady habits; but a news-boy can be honest,
virtuous, and temperate, as well as any other boy,--if he will take
the right way to be.

[Illustration]




IDA'S DRESS.


At one time, when Mrs. Dudley was spending a few days in the city, she
went with a friend to call upon a poor woman whom she heard was in
great need. This woman had sent a daughter, about eight years old, to
school for one day, and then found that she could not spare her; she
felt obliged to keep her at home to take care of the baby.

Mrs. Carter--for by this name I shall call her--occupied a house back
from the street. The ladies ascended the steps leading to the first
floor, and inquired if she lived there. "She is in the basement," was
the answer. They descended into the area. It was neatly swept, and in
perfect order. "It must be a genteel woman who lives here," remarked
Mrs. Benton. They knocked. A voice bade them come in. They opened the
door and entered. Mrs. Carter was sewing by a table. By her side stood
Georgianna, her oldest child, plainly and neatly dressed. At the other
end of the table was a little girl about four years old, whose name I
forget, and in the rocking-chair before the stove was a dark-haired
babe, quietly sleeping.

The room was neat and tidy. There was a little fire in the stove, but
not enough to thoroughly warm the room.

The ladies inquired of Mrs. Carter in regard to her circumstances.
They learned that her husband left her last spring, and had gone she
knew not where. He was a carpenter by trade, and could earn two
dollars a day. She had always done what she could with her needle, and
had earned a few dollars a month by binding shoes or doing other
sewing. They had lived very comfortably, renting good apartments for
eight dollars a month, and knew nothing of want or suffering.

Mrs. Carter was obliged to give up her pleasant rooms, to remove to
the basement. She has laboured industriously, whenever she can procure
work, to pay her rent, three dollars a month, and to provide food for
her children. She has known what it is to be both cold and hungry. She
has bought coal by the bushel, and has sometimes been without fire in
the dead of winter. Her family have lived principally upon bread and
water, and the little ones have cried for food when she had none to
give them.

Little Ida is too young to know her mother's sorrow. She is a babe of
only a few weeks old, and she sleeps as sweetly in that great
rocking-chair as any babe ever slept in a cradle. She is warmly
wrapped in a blanket, and does not suffer, although she has scarce a
change of dresses.

When Mrs. Dudley returned to her happy home, she told her children
about this family, and particularly about the poor babe, who so
increased her mother's cares and labours, yet repaying it all by the
wealth of maternal love her coming had developed. It was pleasing to
see Georgianna lay her face so softly on the infant's, and so gently
rock her when her slumbers were disturbed.

Mrs. Dudley's children listened to her story with great interest, and
wished to do something for the family. Mary repaired some garments
which her mother gave her, and when this was done, she went to her
drawer and took out a small piece of calico, which had been given to
her to make her doll a dress. She asked her mother if there was enough
to make Ida a dress. Mrs. Dudley examined it, and told her there was.
So she cut it out for her daughter, and showed her how to make it.
This work occupied her several days, for Mary goes to school, and has
not much time for sewing. The dress looked very pretty when it was
completed. She had embroidered the tiny sleeves with a neat scollop,
and had taken great pains to make it strong and neatly.

The next time Mrs. Dudley went to the city, she took several small
parcels for Mrs. Carter, who was much pleased with them. None
gratified her more than the dress for the baby.

It will always be a pleasant recollection to Mary that she made the
heart of this suffering woman happy by sending a dress to her infant.
She learned the pleasure of giving, and of exerting herself to do good
to others.

If Mrs. Dudley had had the dress made by a seamstress, it would have
been equally useful to Mrs. Carter; but Mary would have lost the
reward which she now enjoys in the consciousness of relieving the
sufferings of the destitute. I hope Mary will always be benevolent,
and never grow "weary in well-doing."

[Illustration]




WHAT MADE WILLIE HAPPY.


Willie was looking at the slippers which his mother had wrought for
him, and admiring the freshness of the colours. They were a Christmas
present to him, and had afforded him much pleasure.

"You were very happy the evening they were given to you," said his
mother.

"But no happier than I was last evening," he replied.

I will tell you what made him so happy on the evening to which he
alluded. At Christmas, two little books had been added to his library,
and another had been lent him by one of his companions. When he had
read these books, he was very desirous to get still another. He began
to inquire how he could earn money enough to buy it, for he thought he
should like to purchase it himself. He could think of nothing which
could be done in the house, by which he could replenish his purse; so
his mother told him, if he would control his temper for a week, she
would get the book for him. If he did get out of patience, and
immediately checked himself, he was to receive it.

Every evening Willie came to his mother, and told her how he had
succeeded through the day. She observed him very carefully, and she
knew that he really tried to conquer himself. She encouraged him in
his efforts, and Willie was very happy--happy because he was
succeeding in correcting what was wrong--and happy in the anticipation
of the reward promised him.

The last day of the week came, and passed away. Willie's father
returned from the city. He brought with him a parcel done up in soft
white paper, and tied with a small red and white twine. His mother
opened it, and there was the book for which she had sent. She wrote
Willie's name in it, with the day of the month, and then wrote "A
Reward of Merit." She thought those few words would remind him of the
way in which he earned the book, and would encourage him to persevere
in overcoming any bad or sinful habit.

All these things together made Willie quite as happy as on "Merry
Christmas." It always makes people happy to endeavour to subdue what
is wrong in themselves,--such efforts being their own reward. The
consciousness of the approval of our heavenly Father must always
occasion the truest pleasure.




DO YOU INTEND TO BE A GENTLEMAN?

(A QUESTION FOR BOYS.)


As I sat at the table a few evenings since, a gentleman called. He was
invited to take a seat with us. As he had already supped, he declined.
This person is a man of talent and education, but as I turned to look
at him, in the course of conversation, I observed a habit which so
disgusted me, that it was with an effort I could finish my tea.

This circumstance impressed on my mind the importance of forming
correct habits in boyhood. "The child is father of the man,"
Wordsworth says in one of his poems. The habits and character you form
now will, in all probability, be the habits and character you will
retain when you are a man. I suppose the individual to whom I have
alluded was entirely unconscious of doing any thing disagreeable. If
not, perhaps he did not consider it of much consequence. He may have
grown up with the opinion that little things are of small importance.
Now, that this is not always so, you may easily see if you drop a
spark of fire in a pile of shavings: the whole will be immediately in
flames, and will do as much injury as if it had been kindled by a
large coal.

Our happiness depends quite as much on little things as on great.
Small trials are as difficult to bear as any. People often lose their
patience when a dress is torn, or a pitcher broken, who would be quiet
and calm if some serious misfortune had befallen them.

I hope, boys, you intend to be gentlemen. I do not mean fops and
dandies, but true gentlemen. You have perhaps seen the remark made,
that "dress does not make the man, but after he is made, he looks
better dressed up." Neither do gentlemanly habits and manners make the
man, but they certainly improve him after he is made, and render him
agreeable and prepossessing.

A farmer, or a cabinet-maker, or a blacksmith, are no less gentlemen
because they are engaged in these useful and honourable employments,
than are judges, or merchants, or ministers. To be a gentleman is to
be a man of gentle manners; and who would not desire to be
distinguished for such a trait?

If you intend to be gentlemen, you must begin now, by always
conducting, under all circumstances, just as well as you know how.
Some of you, I suppose, have better advantages of society, and more
careful instruction at home, than others; but no boy of intelligence
need fail to be a gentleman if he tries.

A true gentleman is always courteous. He answers respectfully when
spoken to--no matter by whom. Do you remember the anecdote of General
Washington, who raised his hat and bowed politely to a coloured man he
met, who had previously saluted him with the usual civility of the
race? A friend with him expressed surprise. "Do you think," said he,
"I would be less polite than a negro?" I hope, when you are tempted to
be uncivil to those whom you consider beneath you, you will not forget
the good example of the Father of his Country. I suppose the secret of
Washington's politeness and greatness was, as his mother proudly said
of him, that "George was always a good boy!"

He was a gentleman--such a gentleman as I should be glad to believe
every boy who reads this book will one day be. If you would be polite
to all, you must cultivate kind feelings towards all. A gentleman is
not a rough man. He may have great energy and power of character, as
had Washington, but still he is a _gentle_-man.




GENEROUS NELLY; OR, THE WILLING MIND.


Nelly Wallace is about six years old. She has a pleasant, attractive
face. Her long hair curls in ringlets over her neck. She is one of the
neatest and most gentle children I ever saw, and gives her mother but
little trouble. Indeed, she is so orderly, and active, that she is
quite an assistance to her. She sings like a lark, and is patient as a
lamb. She is very generous, too.

Her father is obliged to live on a small salary.

Nelly is a favourite with her father's friends, and often receives a
present from them.

One day, she heard her mother say to her father that they needed some
particular article very much, but he told her he had not money enough
to purchase it. She quietly left the room, and went up stairs.
Presently she returned, and placed a five-dollar gold-piece, which had
been given to her, in her mother's hand. "Please use my money,
mother," she said; "I should rather you would use it for what you
need, than keep it to buy something for myself."

At another time, her father was obliged to take a journey on business.
Nelly brought forth her purse, and offered its contents to him to
defray his expenses. Dear child! she knew nothing about the cost of
travelling, nor the value of money. She thought her three-cent pieces
would be all he would need.

[Illustration: Nelly brought forth her purse.]

Paul, when exhorting the Corinthian church to liberality, says, "If
there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man
hath, and not according to that he hath not." Nelly had a willing
mind, and her father was as much gratified by her thoughtful
consideration as he would have been if she had been able to furnish
him all that he needed. So our heavenly Father is pleased with his
children when they do what they can to provide for the wants of the
needy; and the smallest gift, offered in love, is not forgotten by
him.

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