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Short StoriesThe Explanation.
Lettice's father was a man of education, a scholar, a gentl...
Or, Honesty Rewarded.
At St. Petersburgh, the birth day of any of the royal famil...
The Remarkable Wreck Of The Thomas Hyke
It was half-past one by the clock in the office of the Regi...
The Orphans' Voyage.
Two little orphan boys, whose parents died in a foreign lan...
A little boy went to sea with his father to learn to be a s...
Anna Seeking Employment.
It was a wearisome day to poor Anna, as she walked from squ...
A Good Mother.
Mrs. Savage was the eldest sister of Matthew Henry. When sh...
The Flower That Looks Up.
"What beautiful things flowers are," said one of the party ...
The Philosophy Of Relative Existences
In a certain summer, not long gone, my friend Bentley and I...
Flora And Her Portrait.
"And was there never a portrait of your beautiful child," s...
The Saint's Rest.
We've no abiding city here: This may distress the wo...
You have read of that remarkable man, Mr. Usher, who was Ar...
Lizzy And Her Dog.
I wish to relate to you a very affecting story about a good...
A poor Arabian of the desert was one day asked, how he came...
Gather The Flowers.
Two little girls went into the fields to gather flowers. Bu...
Edward And Ellen.
Edward Ford owned a snug little cottage with a small farm s...
His Wife's Deceased Sister
It is now five years since an event occurred which so color...
Or The Unexpected Meeting.
I must tell you who were Lettice and Myra. They were the da...
There is a company of girls met together, and what can they...
Comfort And Sobriety.
Let me here give you a few maxims to commit to memory:---- ...
THE DYING BOY.
A little boy, by the name of Bertie, was taken very ill, and for
sometime continued to grow weaker until he died. A few hours before
his death he revived up, and his first request was to be bathed in the
river; but his mother persuaded him to be sponged only, as the river
water would be too cold for his weak frame. After his mother had
sponged him with water, he desired to be dressed; when his mother
dressed him in his green coat and white collar, and seated him at the
table with all his books and worldly treasures around him. As he sat
there, one would have thought that he was about to commence a course
of study; and yet in the marble paleness of his features, and in the
listless and languid eye, there was evidence that life in the boy was
like an expiring taper, flickering in the socket. He soon asked to go
out in his little carriage. His grandfather, whom he very much loved,
placed him in it, and carefully avoiding every stone, drew him to a
spot commanding the entire landscape. The tide was up and the sun was
shining on the deep blue waters, and bathing the distant mountains and
the green meadows in liquid gold. The gardens and orchards around were
gay in the rich crimson blossoms of the apple tree; the air was filled
with the sweet fragrance of flowers, and the birds were singing
beautifully, when little Bertie looked for the last time on the scenes
of earth. He could not remain long, and was soon taken back to the
little parlor, where he sat on the sofa, resting his elbows on the
table. It was not long before the little boy died. But he was very
happy. Among his last words were these, addressed to his little sister
three years old: "Well, Emmie, very ill--me going to Jesus."
"Oh, mamma, Emmie loves her Saviour."
Next: THE BOY AND THE GOLD ROBIN.