The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

LITTLE ALFRED.

BY

THE AUTHOR OF “LITTLE ELLA.”

Behold I have prepared the tenderest grass

That grows on Zion’s hill. Here feeble lambs

May find sweet nourishment, and gather strength

To climb the verdant heights, where the fair flock

On richer pasture feed.—Peep of Day.

EDITED BY D. P. KIDDER.

New-York:

PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT,

FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION OF THE METHODIST

EPISCOPAL CHURCH, 200 MULBERRY-ST.

Joseph Longking, Printer.

1850.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the

year 1847, by Lane & Tippett, in the Clerk’s Office

of the District Court of the Southern District of

New-York.

PREFACE.

I have written this book for little boys. I hope they may like it; although it does not contain any wonderful stories about giants, or genii, or fairies.

I wanted to do them good, as well as to amuse them. Although I do not mention the name of the Saviour in every chapter, I yet try to talk of things that will lead their minds up to him. I wish them to feel how good he has been to them, in giving them kind parents to teach them his word, health to enjoy the beauties of creation, and in bestowing on them so many other mercies.

That they may love the Redeemer in their early years, and at last dwell with him in heaven, is the prayer of their friend,

The Author.

CONTENTS.

LITTLE ALFRED.

CHAPTER I
SUMMER PLEASURES.

Up! let us to the fields away,

And breathe the fresh and balmy air:

The bird is building in the tree,

The flower has open’d to the bee,

And health, and love, and peace are there.

Mary Howitt.

Alfred Penrose was a little boy who lived in a pretty town on the banks of the Connecticut River. We will call the place in which Alfred lived Norwood, although that is not its real name.

When the weather was warm Alfred’s father would often take him and his older brothers in a little boat upon the river. Sometimes they would row to a pleasant creek, over which large trees drooped their branches until they touched the water. There Alfred’s father and brothers would catch fish, which they carried home to have cooked for breakfast the next morning. They were not cruel enough to use worms for bait. They baited their hook with pieces of raw meat, or dough, which the fish liked quite as well as worms.

While Alfred’s brothers helped their father to fish, the little boy would steal away from them to a small brook which ran through the meadow where his father allowed him to go by himself, because there was no danger. Mr. Penrose did not like to have Alfred too near him when he was fishing. The little fellow’s merry laugh and loud voice frightened away the fish. So, as we have said, Alfred would steal away to the little brook, and launch the shingle boat, with its paper sails, which his brother Harry had made for him; or pick his way across the brook on the stepping stones to the sunny bank, in search of the beautiful flowers which peep forth from among the withered leaves of the last year. And handfuls of the pretty light blue flower called innocence would he gather, for it is found everywhere in its season, smiling in wood and meadow, by shaded streams, and in the glittering sunshine.

O, very pleasant was the budding spring-time, and the rich, ripe summer season, to little Alfred!

Then they would often bring their dinner with them, and eat it by the pebbly brook, which sung its sweet tune to them as it danced along, and mingled its voice with the merry birds which saluted them from the trees above their heads.

Alfred’s father always received his son’s little love-offering of flowers with a smile.

“I am glad my little boy loves flowers,” he would say. “They are God’s beautiful presents to us. How sweetly Jesus speaks of flowers in Matthew vi, 28-30:

“Consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these.

“Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?”

CHAPTER II
A CONTRAST TO THE FORMER CHAPTER.

* * * * * little children, endeavoring

to gather amusement from the very dust, and

straws and pebbles of squalid alleys, shut out

from the glorious countenance of nature.

William Howitt.

When little Alfred returned home, on a Saturday afternoon, from one of the delightful visits to the woods of which I have told you, his mamma lifted him up on the sofa beside her, and said,

“How good our heavenly Father is to my little Alfred! He has given him a kind papa, who loves him dearly. Little boys cannot be thankful enough to God for that great blessing. There are many little children who have very unkind fathers. Some of them are wicked enough to spend all their money for rum, and do not get anything for their poor little children to eat.”

Alfred’s little sister Flora had run up to her mamma, to listen to her as she talked with Alfred. She was a tender-hearted little girl, and her lip quivered, and the tears came into her eyes, when she heard about the children who had such naughty fathers.

Then Mrs. Penrose took little Flora upon her lap, and went on talking to Alfred. She said,

“And my little Alfred’s papa takes him in the pleasant woods, and in the fields, and lets him gather the sweet flowers which grow there. And he and little Flora can hear the happy birds sing all day long. Now, there are some little children who never see a flower grow, or hear a bird sing, and they scarcely even see the pretty blue sky which is over their heads.”

“O, mamma!” said Alfred, “are they blind and deaf?”

“No, my love, but they live in dark and crowded places in the city. Some live in garrets, and some in cellars, where the houses are high and the streets very narrow. So the beautiful things which God has given us to make us glad are quite shut out from them. When I lived in the city I went one day to see a poor family who lived in a cellar, in a dark and dirty court. The father of this family was a drunkard. He had even sold, for rum, the bed on which his sick wife lay. When I went to her, the poor woman had only some straw, in a corner of the cellar, to lie upon. The children had very little fire, although the weather was cold, and nothing to eat, except what people carried them from day to day.

“Among the children was one pale, sickly-looking little boy, named Johnny. He was only eight years old; but his mother told me that she did not know what she should have done without little Johnny. He did everything that he could for her during the day; and when she coughed or moved at night, the little boy would run up to her and ask her if she would have some water, or if he should raise her head higher.

“In a corner, Johnny had a faded rose planted in some dirt which he had scooped from the cellar, and put in an old tin cup.

“The rose had been, one day, dropped by a lady, who was walking before Johnny, in Broadway. Johnny was an honest boy. He ran up to the lady, and offered her the rose which she had dropped. The lady smiled, and said, ‘You can keep it, my little boy. I do not want it.’

“The rose was then fresh and beautiful. Johnny thought that if he planted it, it might perhaps live. It did take root even in that poor soil, but it could not grow any.

“He looked up into my face, on the day that I first went to see his mother, and said,

“‘O, ma’am! do you think that my rose will live? I have kept it in the warmest place, and watered it every day.’

“‘Yes,’ said his mother, ‘however hungry and cold poor Johnny has been, he never forgot his rose.’

“I saw when he asked me the question that his rose was nearly dead. The tears came into his eyes when I told him this.

“Poor little boy! The flower was like himself, withering away for want of light and air.

“Just think, Alfred, how happy little Johnny would have been, running with his bare feet through the fields, looking at the golden and speckled butterflies, filling his cap with wild-flowers, and listening to the song of the birds, and the busy hum of the honey-bee!

“One day I took Johnny to my house, and showed him a stand of flowers. He was delighted. He clapped his hands, and his eyes sparkled. He smelt the heliotropes and the roses, and he looked at the rich flowers of the cactus. When I gave him a bouquet to carry to his own miserable home, he seemed perfectly happy.

“The next time I went to that dark, gloomy cellar, there the flowers stood in the old tin cup from which the poor rose had been taken.”

Alfred and Flora felt sorry for poor Johnny; but they were glad to hear that his mother got well, and that little Johnny had been put with a farmer, where he could hear the birds sing, and see the brooks and the trees, and pick wild-flowers in the fields.

When they went to bed they thanked God for many mercies which they had not thought of before.

CHAPTER III
THE SNOW.

How beautiful the earth is now!

The hills have put their vesture on,

And clothed is the forest bough:

Say not ’tis an unlovely time!

Mary Howitt.

If the summer season and the spring-time were pleasant to little Alfred, so also were the winter hours.

When the snow came—the fair, beautiful snow, falling so softly and quietly upon the frozen ground, and making every tree look like a fairy bower—Alfred ran about the house, singing:

“I love the snow, the first white snow,

That decks the merry earth.”

When Alfred was very little he had no sled of his own; but his friends, Charles and Arthur Brown, used now and then to give him a ride upon their sled. This he always enjoyed very much.

When he was four years old, Alfred said,

“O, father, I do wish that I had a sled of my own!”

“Why do you wish to have a sled of your own, my son?” said his father. “The boys are so kind as to give you a ride every day.”

“Yes, I know it, papa,” said Alfred; “but I am afraid they take me sometimes when they want to ride themselves. And then you know I can only go to ride when their school is out.”

“Indeed,” said Alfred’s mother, “I have thought lately that I would like Alfred to have a sled of his own. He gets his lessons quickly now, so that he is quite through them by eleven o’clock. If he had a little sled he could slide down the terrace two hours before dinner time. It would be good exercise for him.”

Alfred’s father looked pleased to hear that he got his lessons quickly. He said, “I think if Alfred continues to study well he must have a sled of his own.”

“O, father! do please get me one, and have it painted green, with a black stripe around it.”

CHAPTER IV
THE SLED AND THE SKATES.

When the north winds blow, on my sled I go,

With a bounding heart, o’er the glitt’ring snow;

Or swift on the clear, cold ice I glide,

With my watchful father close by my side.

O, how very much pleased was Alfred to find the sled he had asked for standing by his bed one morning when he awoke! As soon as he had washed and dressed himself, and said his prayers, he ran to thank his dear father for his nice present. Alfred’s mamma had bought him a woolen cap, which she wadded and lined, and he had a warm plaid cloak; so he was quite ready for his first ride.

The snow was frozen very hard, so that the upper crust bore the sled; and merrily, merrily indeed did the little boy slide swiftly down the terrace, and even to the very bottom of the lawn. He did not mind pulling the sled up the hill for the pleasure of riding down.

By and by he looked up at the bed-room window, and saw his little sister Flora’s face looking at him through one of the panes. Alfred was not a selfish boy. He liked to share every pleasure with his sister.

“O, my poor little Flora!” said he, “you must come out and have a ride too.”

So he left his sled, and ran into the house to ask his mother if she would not let Flora ride upon the sled. At first his mamma said she was afraid it was too cold for Flora; but when Alfred promised to take great care of her, she said that she might go out with him for a little while. She put on Flora’s warm cap, and coat, and mittens, and comforter, and stood by the window to watch the little ones.

O, how they both enjoyed it! Alfred was very much pleased to have Flora put under his care. He kept her feet covered up, and drew the sled down the terrace very carefully. After a little while Mrs. Penrose sent Ann out to bring Flora into the house. When Mr. Penrose came home to dinner, he asked Alfred how he had enjoyed the morning.

“O, father,” said Alfred, “I have been so happy! How much I thank you for my new sled! I will be a very good boy for it.”

“I hope you will be a good boy, Alfred,” said his papa. “You must ask God to keep you from doing wrong; for you know, I suppose, that it is only through his help that we can do a right action. I am always afraid when I hear people boast of what they intend to do.”

Soon after this, Alfred’s father bought him a beautiful little pair of skates, and took him upon the pond to teach him to skate.

He had thought that winter was almost as pleasant as summer when he first rode upon his sled; but now that he could skate too, he forgot all the pleasures of the summer, and, like Tommy in the looking-glass, wished that it could be “always winter.”

CHAPTER V
SCRIPTURE INSTRUCTION.

And these words, which I command thee this

day, shall be in thine heart: and thou shalt

teach them diligently unto thy children, and

shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine

house, and when thou walkest by the way, and

when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.

And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine

hand, and they shall be as frontlets between

thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon

the posts of thy house, and on thy gates.—Deut.

vi, 6-9.

Before little Alfred could read he knew a great deal of the Bible. He had a volume of Scripture plates, which he would turn over upon his father’s knee, and ask him the meaning of them. Alfred’s father loved the Bible, and he wanted his children to love it too; and therefore he took great delight in explaining it to them, and in telling them the beautiful stories which it contains.

There was the picture of Jacob dreaming his sweet dream about the ladder which reached to heaven, on which the angels of God came and went.

And there was brave Daniel in the lions’ den; because he would worship God when the king said he should not.

And there, too, was faithful Abraham, about to offer up to God “his son, his only son Isaac,” whom he loved.

All these, and many more delightful stories from the Bible, Alfred and Flora would repeat before they could read.

They both thought and talked a great deal about the Bible.

One day, in the summer time, Alfred and Flora went out together into the garden. They sat down upon a seat under the willow-tree. Little Flora took her doll in her arms when she went out; but when they returned to the house she did not have it with her.

Alfred said,

“Flora, where is your doll?”

“O, brother,” said Flora, “I left her lying on the grass.”

“Why did you leave her there?” inquired Alfred.

“I thought, brother, that maybe God would make a gourd grow over her head, like that which grew over Jonah.”

“But the sun is not as hot here as it is in Jonah’s country,” said Alfred. “Besides, she is not flesh and blood.”

Some time after this, when the weather had become cold, Alfred had a cousin, named Rupert, come to spend his vacation with him. Rupert was five years older than Alfred. He had not lived much at home with his parents. He had been almost always at a public school. Alfred had never yet been to school.

Rupert’s mother sent Flora a large doll. She said,

“O, thank you, cousin! I will name her Miriam.” “Who is Miriam?” said Rupert; for he had not heard of her.

“O, cousin,” said Flora, “Miriam was the dear little sister who watched Moses when he lay in the ark by the river’s side. And it was Miriam who played beautiful music on the timbrel, after the children of Israel had crossed the Red Sea.”

Rupert managed to amuse himself pretty well, for the first few days, with skating, and riding down hill on Alfred’s sled. But after a little time he took a cold, which confined him to the house, and he began to look around for something to read. Now there were quantities of very instructive, and very amusing books too, about the house; but there were not fairy tales enough to satisfy Rupert. So, in place of reading, he began to tell Alfred a good many of the wonderful things that he had heard or had read in his own books.

He said that there was once a man who had a wonderful salve, which, when put on a person’s eyes, would make him see all the silver, and gold, and diamonds, and other precious stones in the world.

“Is that true, Rupert?” asked Alfred.

“True? No, I do not suppose it is true.”

“Then I do not like it as well as that story papa told me the other day about the blind man, on whose eyes Jesus put the eye-salve; for that is true,” said Alfred.

“I will tell you another story, then,” said Rupert, laughing.

“A fairy once gave a cap to a man whose name was Fortunatus. Whenever Fortunatus wished to be anywhere, he had only to put the cap upon his head, and he was in the place where he wished to be, in less than a minute.”

“Is not that true either?” said Alfred.

“No; fairy tales are never true.”

“I do not think it is as pretty as the story of Elijah, which papa has often told me, nor any more wonderful either. Elijah was taken to heaven in a fiery chariot. There is a great deal about Elijah in the Bible.”

“Well,” said Rupert, “I think you pair my stories pretty well. See if you can match this.

“There was a poor woman who had a good little girl named May-Flower; and one day a fairy brought May-Flower a cow, and told her to milk it. She milked the cow, and it gave milk enough to fill all the dishes and pans in the house; and yet the milk still ran, so that there was no end of it. And that one cow made that woman the richest person on the island where she lived.”

Alfred’s mamma had been listening to Rupert’s stories. When he stopped, she smiled and said,

“I think Alfred can match that story.”

“How, mamma? O, I know! Elijah went once to a poor woman, and asked her for a piece of bread, when there was a great famine in the land. The woman had only ‘a handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse;’ but that handful of meal never grew any less, or the oil either, until God sent rain to put an end to the famine.”

“Yes, Alfred, that is a match to Rupert’s story: but do not you recollect another miracle, which is quite as wonderful as the story of the cow which gave so much milk?”

Alfred did not, at first, understand what his mamma wanted him to remember, until she said,

“What did the prophet Elisha do for the poor widow whose husband feared God, when they were going to make slaves of her two sons?”

“O, he made one pot of oil fill all the vessels that were in the house; and the woman sold the oil, and paid her debts with it, and then had enough money left for herself and her sons to live upon.”[^[1]]

[1]. See frontispiece.

“Well, those are nice stories,” said Rupert. “I did not know before that there were any such in the Bible.”

Then Alfred said,

“O, you haven’t heard half of them yet. Let me show you my picture of Samuel, and we will get mamma to tell us about him. I never get tired of hearing about little Samuel and his dear, good mother!”

Rupert looked as if he did not care about hearing the story; but he seemed pleased with the picture. It was the picture of a beautiful boy, kneeling before a very old man, with a long beard. The sun fell upon the boy’s curls, and made them appear of a golden color.

“Is not little Samuel pretty?” said Alfred. “And that is grandpa Eli. Does not he look good? O, do mamma tell me about him!”

And mamma told him the story; and Rupert seemed to get interested in it before she had finished. I give it to my little readers in the next chapter.

CHAPTER VI
LITTLE SAMUEL.

It is the child to Hannah sent,

When humbly she implored;

It is the child by Hannah lent

To her prayer-hearing Lord.

Bible Stories.

Mrs. Penrose said, “I like to read the stories in the Bible very slowly; and I like to think, as I go along, how the persons of whom I read looked, and how their houses looked, and how they felt when they did certain things of which the Bible tells us. It makes me remember the stories better, and makes me feel as if I had seen all that I read of.

“The story of Samuel always appeared to me like a beautiful picture. I seem to see the house in which pious Hannah lived.

“There were many pretty hills in the land of Syria; and perhaps her husband’s house stood on the side of one of them. Olive-trees, with their pale green leaves, and dark cedars, may have shaded the house, for they both grew in that country; and grape-vines, bearing sunny grapes, may have grown over the pleasant porch.

“But I must not indulge my fancy too much: so I will go on with my little story.

“Hannah was a good woman. She had no children: so she prayed to God to give her a child. She said if God would do so, her child should be his as long as he lived.

“God heard Hannah’s prayer. He sent her a little son, and then she was very happy.

“Some people make promises to God, and then forget them. This is wicked. Hannah did not do so. She remembered how she had promised God that her little boy should be his child. She called him Samuel; and she took great pains to make Samuel a good boy. She taught him about the true God, and about the Messiah who was to come to redeem his people. She sung him to sleep with holy songs. She taught him to kneel down and pray to the God of Israel when he was a very little boy.

“I have no doubt that she told him of all the great things that God had done for the children of Israel. How the waters of the Red Sea parted, and stood up, like high crystal walls, on each side of them, as they walked across on the dry land; and how he sent them bread from heaven, when they traveled through the dreary wilderness, and made plenty of pure, cool water gush out from the burning rock, when they were almost choked with thirst.

“Little Samuel loved God. Very young children can love God. They need not wait to do that until they have grown large, or until they have learned a great deal.

“At last Samuel became old enough to live away from his mother; so she took him up to the tabernacle at Shiloh. The tabernacle was the church in which the Jews worshiped. In the tabernacle lived a very good old man. His name was Eli. It was Eli who was to take care of Samuel.

“I suppose Hannah led her little boy by the hand, except when the way was rough, or when he became tired of walking, and then perhaps she carried him. And maybe when it became hot Samuel might want to take his little nap under some of the shady trees that grew on their way. As he slept, I think, his mother sat beside him, and almost cried to think that he was to be with her no longer; for although she was willing that he should go to be a priest of the Lord, yet it was hard for her to part with her only one. Perhaps, as she looked at Samuel sleeping under the shadowing tree, she softly said, ‘O, my darling boy, how I shall miss you when I return home! Your little feet will not run after me when I go out to pick fresh flowers. When I go to bring water from the spring you will not skip beside me, and no little dimpled hands will try to raise the pitcher for me then. My house will be so lonely without my precious boy! I shall dream of you in the night, and think that you are near; but, when I try to touch you, no little hand will be there to take hold of mine; and when I wake in the morning I shall never hear my Samuel’s sweet voice saying, ‘Peace be with you, my mother.’

“But though Hannah may have thought thus while she looked at her sleeping boy, she never once felt that she wanted to take back her vow. She loved God so well that she was glad that she had anything as lovely as her Samuel to give him.

“Thus I might weep, Alfred, if you were one day to go from us, as a missionary, to distant lands; but I think that I should still be willing, and even thankful, that you were called by God to such a high and holy office.”

CHAPTER VII
THE FAREWELL—THE RETURN HOME.

And true it was that angels still

Good little Samuel led;

Were with him in his happy play,

And round his little bed.

They kept his heart so kind and true,

They made his eye so mild;

For dearly do the angels love

A gentle little child.

Flowers for Children.

“Perhaps Eli met Hannah at the door of the tabernacle, and she may have said to him,

“‘Eli, I bring you a precious offering. It is my only child. It was sweet to have him with me, for he was gentle and obedient, and he made my house cheerful and happy. But I promised my little Samuel to the Lord, and now I have come to perform my vow.’

“Then Eli would say,

“‘Thou hast done well, my daughter. The Lord bless thee, and repay thee, because thou hast fulfilled the vows which thy lips did make unto him.’

“At last Hannah had to leave her little boy. It must have been hard for Samuel to have his mother go away from him. At night her voice would not sing him to sleep. When he wakened in the darkness, and said, ‘My mother!’ she would not be there to answer him. No more would he sit upon her lap, in the evening hour, to hear beautiful stories of the patriarchs and saints, and of the great Messiah that was to come.

“But if he said, ‘Do not go, my mother!’ she told him that she would love him still, and come again to see him; and that Eli would be a dear father unto him.

“Perhaps when she went away she said,

“‘O, Eli, be very kind to my little boy! He is only a tender babe. His little bed has always been near my own. Shall he not sleep near you at night, so that if he is ill you may attend to him?’

“And the good old priest told Hannah to be comforted; for he would love and take care of her boy, and teach him to be good.

“Then Hannah kissed and blessed Samuel, and returned to her own home.

“But, O, how much she thought of him on her way back to her house! She thought of him when she saw flowers such as he had picked for her on his way to Shiloh, and which she had put in her bosom; and when the tree came in sight under which he had slept, and when she saw, gushing from the hill, the spring of whose water she had given Samuel to drink, and with which she had wetted his soft, warm hair, and cooled his sweet; rosy face. But Hannah heard God’s voice telling her not to grieve for Samuel; for that he was to be a great and holy prophet, who should do much good in the world, and serve the Lord from youth to old age. Then Hannah listened to the voice of God, and was comforted.”

CHAPTER VIII
GOD’S CALL TO THE LITTLE PROPHET.

When little Samuel woke,

And heard his Maker’s voice.

At every word he spoke

How much did he rejoice!

O blessed, happy child, to find

The God of heaven so near and kind!

Sunday-school Hymns.

“Hannah used to go up to the tabernacle, once a year, to see her dear boy. She always took him a little coat. O, how much pleasure she must have taken in making that little coat! It was of linen, and made very much like the tunic aprons which children wear now, only that it was long.

“Samuel must have enjoyed his dear mother’s yearly visit very much. I think he often went to the door of the tabernacle, and looked out, on the day that he expected her. When he saw her coming, perhaps he asked Eli to let him run and meet her; unless he was too busy assisting at the altar, for it was the day of the yearly sacrifice.

“Samuel lived happily in the tabernacle. God loved him, and those whom he loves are happy.

“One night, as Samuel slept upon his little bed, a voice called ‘Samuel!’

“The little boy thought that Eli called him, and he ran to the prophet, saying,

“‘Here am I.’

“Eli told Samuel that he had not called him; and bade him go and lie down again. He had just done so, when again the voice called ‘Samuel!’

“The little boy again jumped from his bed, and ran to Eli, saying,

“‘Here am I; for thou didst call me.’

“Eli said,

“‘I called not, my son. Lie down again.’

“Then the third time did God call to Samuel, and three times did he go to Eli, thinking it was he who called him.

“But then Eli knew that it was God who called the child. He told Samuel to say, when the Lord called him again, ‘Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.’

“This little Samuel did. Then the Lord told him that he was going to punish Eli’s wicked sons. Eli had wicked children, although he was a good man. He did not punish his children when they were naughty; so they grew up sinners against God, and were destroyed for their wickedness.

“Samuel lived to be a very old man. When he died the whole nation mourned for him; for he was a great prophet in Israel. We do not read of his having ever done one wrong thing during his whole life.

“Now, my children,” added Mrs. Penrose, “perhaps you may think that Samuel was very highly favored to have God talk with him. But he speaks to you also. He speaks to you in the Bible, which tells you how you may get to heaven. He speaks to you by your minister and Sunday-school teacher, every week. He speaks to you through your parents’ voices; and he speaks to your heart, by his Holy Spirit, every day of your lives.”

Little Flora had been listening to the story as attentively as Rupert and Alfred, although her bright blue eyes began to look sleepy. She said,

“Mamma, is there more about Samuel in the Bible?”

“Yes, my dear, there is much more than I have told you,” said her mamma.

“Then I will make haste and learn to read,” said she, “that I may know all that Samuel did when he was a big man.”

Her mamma was glad that her little stories made Flora wish to read the Bible for herself.

CHAPTER IX
RUPERT’S SUNDAY RIDE.

“This day belongs to God alone;

He chooses Sunday for his own;

And we must neither work nor play,

Because it is the sabbath-day.”

Every morning, at the breakfast-table, each one repeated a text of Scripture. They selected their texts alphabetically, each text beginning with the same letter. They began with A, and went on daily with each letter until they got through the alphabet. Rupert did not like this. He could not see the use of it, he said. But the truth was, he did not want the trouble of learning the text.

Mr. Penrose knew that Rupert was to be with them but a short time, and he was anxious to teach him something good while he had the opportunity. He felt sorry for the poor boy, who had learned so little of God’s word, and who had never been taught to make any difference between the sabbath and other days. Rupert often gave Mr. and Mrs. Penrose trouble; but they bore it patiently, in hope of doing him some good.

One Sunday the snow lay deep upon the ground, but there was a good path down the hill. Alfred set off for church with his papa, brothers, and Rupert. It was too cold for little Flora to go that day. When they got about half way to church Rupert found that he had left his pocket-handkerchief. Like most careless boys, Rupert was always losing his pocket-handkerchief. Instead of putting it back in his pocket, after using it, he would lay it by him in the chair on which he sat, and leave it there when he got up. Rupert’s pocket-handkerchief was always to be picked up.

“So, as I have said, when he was half way to church Rupert had to go back for his pocket-handkerchief. The family walked slowly toward the church, thinking that he would overtake them: but he did not; and Mr. Penrose waited for him upon the step. As he stood there, however, he saw Rupert riding in a sleigh, through a street which crossed the one on which the church stood, with John Strong, a boy with whom he had formed a great intimacy, very much against the wishes of his uncle and aunt.

The sermon had commenced when Master Rupert walked into church, and took his seat in his uncle’s pew, with rather a sheepish air. As usual, after he got there he gaped about the church, put his head down as if composing himself to sleep; then jerked it up suddenly, turned round, fidgeted on his seat, and made everybody near him uncomfortable.

When the hymn was sung he turned his back to the minister, and looked up at the choir; a practice, by the by, which shows as much irreverence as bad breeding. When we sing we should feel as much devotion as when we pray. How can we do this when we stand gazing at the choir, instead of feeling the solemn words that we are repeating?

As soon as the benediction was over, Rupert caught his cap, and, leaning over to Alfred, said,

“By jingo! what a noble pair of horses John Strong drives! I have had such a capital ride!”

Alfred’s father took hold of his hand, and did not let it go until he got to the house; and Henry Penrose walked beside Rupert; so that he had no one to listen to his praises of John Strong’s driving, and John Strong’s horses, of which his mind was full.

Between the Sunday-school, church in the afternoon, and reading aloud to Alfred and Flora, from some interesting and profitable book, Rupert had no time for any conversation with Alfred; and nothing had been said to him about his conduct in the morning. He seemed, however, even more restless and tired of Sunday than usual. Mrs. Penrose searched the house for some book to interest him, but could find none that he would read.

CHAPTER X
SUNDAY EVENING—TALK WITH RUPERT.

Ye shall walk after the Lord your God, and

fear him, and keep his commandments, and

obey his voice, and ye shall serve him, and

cleave unto him.—Deut. xiii, 4.

After tea the family assembled around a bright coal fire, which burnt in the grate, and threw its pleasant glow over every object in the room. The wind howled around the house, and more snow was falling to improve the already fine sleighing. The solar lamp lighted the table around which the family sat. All looked quiet and happy but our poor little restless Rupert. In the next room slept Flora, it may be dreaming of the loving Marys who went to the sepulchre of Jesus; for that was the story which her mother told her that night, before she laid her in her little bed.

“Papa,” said Alfred, “I know all the commandments now; may I say them to you?”

And Alfred repeated them to his father, without missing many words.

“What’s the use of getting all those commandments?” asked Rupert.

“Papa says it is God’s law, which we are to try to keep,” said Alfred.

“Why, you do keep it, don’t you?” said Rupert. “I am sure I do.”

“Are you quite sure, Rupert?” said Mr. Penrose, looking off his book.

“Yes, sir; I am sure I do not worship images, nor lie, nor swear, nor steal.”

“And you think, then, that you have not broken one of God’s commandments to-day?”

“I do not think I have.”

“O, Rupert, take care!” said Alfred. “I have often said so; but when papa came to talk to me about them, I found that I broke them every day.”

“Let us begin then, Rupert,” said Alfred’s father, “and inquire what the first commandment is.”

CHAPTER XI
THE COMMANDMENTS.

Say not, Too soon

I urge their tottering steps. Should I forbear,

On every side deceitful strangers stand,

And beckon them away; in flowery paths

Awhile to sport; and then to wander long

Amidst the hills of darkness and of death,

Where hungry beasts, in every thicket hid,

Wait to devour.—Peep of Day.

Rupert knew the words of the first commandment. He answered, “The first commandment is, ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’”

“Now,” said Mr. Penrose, “this commandment forbids our giving that worship, or love, to any other which is due to God alone. If we think of anything besides God when we profess to be thinking of him, and when we seem to be engaged in his worship, then we are putting other gods before him. Now tell me, Rupert, were you thinking much of God when you were in church this morning?”

“No, not very much,” said Rupert, who, with all his faults, generally spoke the truth.

Then Mr. Penrose tried to show Rupert that he had broken the first commandment, by allowing something besides God to have the first place in his mind and heart; but he did not dwell as long upon the subject as he wished to do, because he knew that young people, from their natural dislike to serious truths, can best be instructed by a few hints at a time.

“You say that you did not think much of God, Rupert. Will you tell me candidly what you did think of?”