Short StoriesThe First Dollar.
I will tell you an affecting story about a young lad by the...
The Saint's Rest.
We've no abiding city here: This may distress the wo...
Arthur And His Apple Tree.
One summer day little William was sitting in the garden cha...
It was now in the latter part of December--two days more an...
George And His Guinea.
Little George Ames went with his aunt to attend a missionar...
Jane And Her Lessons.
It is a mark of a good scholar to be prompt and studious. S...
Story About An Indian.
A poor sick man might go to the door of some rich person's ...
A Boy Reproved By A Bird.
The sparrows often build their nests under the eaves of hou...
The Plum Boys.
Two boys were one day on their way from school, and as they...
The Tree That Never Fades.
"Mary," said George, "next summer I will not have a garden....
Remember The Cake.
I will tell you an anecdote about Mrs. Hannah More, when sh...
Old Pipes And The Dryad
A mountain brook ran through a little village. Over the bro...
The Parting Scene.
In one of our western cities was a poor woman, in the garre...
What is told in the ear is often heard a hundred miles. ...
No Payno Work.
"Little boy, will you help a poor old man up the hill with ...
The Market Day.
Mrs. Ford had three little children--Lily, Hetty, and a dea...
Flora And Her Portrait.
"And was there never a portrait of your beautiful child," s...
Or, Honesty Rewarded.
At St. Petersburgh, the birth day of any of the royal famil...
Lettice Taking Home The Work.
Early in the morning, before it was light, and while the tw...
There is a company of girls met together, and what can they...
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.