Short Stories

The Glow Worm.
On a summer's evening about half an hour after bed time, as...

The Market Day.
Mrs. Ford had three little children--Lily, Hetty, and a dea...

Harriet And Her Squirrel.
It was on a Sabbath eve, when at a friend's house, we were ...

The Golden Crown.
A teacher once asked a child, "If you had a golden crown, w...

Story About An Indian.
A poor sick man might go to the door of some rich person's ...

Old Pipes And The Dryad
A mountain brook ran through a little village. Over the bro...

The Plum Boys.
Two boys were one day on their way from school, and as they...

Flora And Her Portrait.
"And was there never a portrait of your beautiful child," s...

Julia's Sunset Walk.
It was a beautiful June day, just at the sun's setting, whe...

Emily's Morning Ramble.
In the suburbs of the city of B. stands the beautiful resid...

Or, Honesty Rewarded.
At St. Petersburgh, the birth day of any of the royal famil...

The Flower That Looks Up.
"What beautiful things flowers are," said one of the party ...

Or The Unexpected Meeting.
I must tell you who were Lettice and Myra. They were the da...

The Remarkable Wreck Of The Thomas Hyke
It was half-past one by the clock in the office of the Regi...

The Sailor Boy.
Yarmouth is the principal trade sea-port town in the county...

His Wife's Deceased Sister
It is now five years since an event occurred which so color...

The Way To Overcome Evil.
A little girl, by the name of Sarah Dean, was taught the pr...

Arthur And His Apple Tree.
One summer day little William was sitting in the garden cha...

The Portrait Of Flora Purchased.
Anna started for her home, and when she had arrived, she sl...

Good Companions.
One day, says a Persian poet, I saw a bunch of roses, and i...

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.

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