|So much have I forgotten in ten years, So much in ten brief years; I have forgot What time the purple apples come to juice And what month brings the shy forget-me-not; Forgotten is the special, startling season Of some beloved tree's fl... Read more of Flame-heart at Martin Luther King.ca|| Informational|
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Short StoriesThe Trusty Dog.
I am glad to introduce to you, the noble dog whose picture ...
Edward And Ellen.
Edward Ford owned a snug little cottage with a small farm s...
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...
A poor Arabian of the desert was one day asked, how he came...
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...
The Grey Old Cottage.
In the valley between "Longbrigg" and "Highclose," in the f...
Julia's Sunset Walk.
It was a beautiful June day, just at the sun's setting, whe...
A Good Act For Another.
A man was going from Norwich to New London with a loaded te...
Mother's Last Lesson.
"Will you please teach me my verse, mamma, and then kiss me...
The Philosophy Of Relative Existences
In a certain summer, not long gone, my friend Bentley and I...
The First Dollar.
I will tell you an affecting story about a young lad by the...
Or The Unexpected Meeting.
I must tell you who were Lettice and Myra. They were the da...
The Portrait Of Flora Purchased.
Anna started for her home, and when she had arrived, she sl...
A Good Mother.
Mrs. Savage was the eldest sister of Matthew Henry. When sh...
The Plum Boys.
Two boys were one day on their way from school, and as they...
Now the golden ear wants the reaper's hand, Banish eve...
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.