Golden Moments Read online

apart--itseemed so very unsociable and unfriendly. So Will brought his slate overto Johnnie, and they were soon busily discussing the difficulties ofsums and spelling.

  Although Will was a good deal the older, he was not nearly so clever atsums as Johnnie, and, moreover, he was not too proud to accept the helpthat Johnnie rather timidly offered. They soon settled the differencebetween the various rows of obstinate figures, and Will laid down hisslate with a sigh of relief and a grateful "Thank you, Johnnie. Now," hecontinued, "let's have a go at your spelling."

  By this time they began to feel quite warm friends--for it is wonderfulhow quickly a little mutual help creates feelings of friendship.Together they went over the mis-spelt words, and, with Will to help andencourage, Johnnie soon felt quite sure that the spelling of theparticular words of that morning's exercise would never trouble himagain.

  They had scarcely finished their work when the big school-bell sounded,and the boys all came trooping in. Will had to go back to his place, buthe left a very light-hearted little boy behind him, for Johnnie and hehad vowed life-long friendship, and sums and spelling seemed to havelost all their terrors for both of them.

  When Johnnie arrived home from school he could talk of nothing but WillMaynard, and Will, for his part, voted Johnnie "a jolly little chap."Many a time after that day did they help each other, and when it wasreported after the examination that they had both passed, each declaredhe must have failed without the other's help.

  They are firm friends still, and are likely to remain so; and whenever adifficulty occurs, in school or out, they always tackle it together;for, as Johnnie says, "A difficulty shared is only half a difficulty."

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  T'IS NOT FINE FEATHERS THAT MAKE FINE BIRDS.

  She was a lady with pins in her hairOn a funny old Japanese fan.He was a proud bit of Chinese wareIn the shape of a Mandarin man.

  She sighed, when she saw him appear on the shelf,For she thought of her shabby old frock.She said "Oh! I know he will scorn an old fan,As he comes of a very proud stock."

  The Mandarin sneered as he took a front place,But his pride had a fall when he found,That the fan was dispatched to a very grand show,For her beauty and age were renowned!

  So we'll leave him alone on his shelf while he thinks,With a large diminution of pride,"It is not the feathers that make the fine bird,But the worth of the bird that's inside!"

  Horatia Browne.

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  ELSIE'S FAULT.

  Elsie Hayden would have been a charming little maiden but for herbesetting fault--talebearing. She was always running in to tell hermother or governess the faults of the others. All day long it was,"Mamma, Rex took some currants," "Mamma, Minnie blotted her copy thismorning," "Mamma, the boys have been quarrelling," or some othercomplaint concerning her companions. Before long Elsie was to go toschool, and her mother knew what troubles lay before her if shepersisted in looking out for motes in the eyes of others, and forgettingall about the beams in her own. She got Elsie to work a text in silks,"Speak not evil one of _another_," and she told the child that if wefeel it is our duty to complain of somebody else, we should be verycareful to speak only the _truth_, and in _love_.

  One day Elsie came to her mother in great distress.

  "Mamma," she sobbed, "they won't play with me; the others have all sentme to Coventry. They whisper 'tell-tale-tit' when I go near them; pleasemake them play with me, mamma. It is so horrid to be left all alone."

  "But Elsie," said Mrs. Hayden, "you have brought this trouble onyourself. When you play with the others you seem always on the lookoutto find fault with them; how can you suppose they will enjoy a game witha little tale-bearer? Miss Clifford and nurse and I have kept an accountof the tales you have carried to us, complaining of the others, and ourlists added together make 352 complaints in one week!"

  "Oh, mamma--I _haven't_ been a tale-bearer 352 times in a week!"

  "It is so indeed, my poor little Elsie. I am sadly afraid you will growup a scandal-monger, one of those people who go from house to housespreading tales and making mischief. You must try hard, my darling, tocure this fault; remember your _own_ failings, and let the faults ofyour playmates alone. Poor little Minnie came crying this morning toconfess to me she had called you by an unkind name which I hadforbidden; but she found you already complaining about her, and tryingto get her punished. It was not kind or sisterly, Elsie! Let _love_ rulethat little tongue, and be silent when those impatient complaints comeinto your mind."

  "I will try, mamma--I will indeed. Will you keep another list for _next_week, and see if I am any better?"

  Mrs. Hayden promised to do so, and the result showed that Elsie had beena tale-bearer ten times only during the week. The child tried very hardto cure herself of fault-finding, and she was soon "out of Coventry,"and as time went on nobody on seeing her sang the rhyme about"tell-tale-tit."

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  WINTER.

  When icicles hang by the wall,And Dick the shepherd blows his nailAnd Tom bears logs into the hall,And milk comes frozen home in pail,When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,Then nightly sings the staring owl To-who;Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

  "Shakespeare"

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  THE STOLEN CHERRIES.

  Long ago I read a story of some boys who stole some cherries, and, trywhat they might, the cherry stones were always turning up and remindingthem of their wickedness. It was a good thing for their consciences thatthey could not forget what they had done; it is a dreadful thing to doevil and then care nothing about it.

  Do you know what is the best thing that can happen to you if you dowrong? To get found out. To conceal a sin is worse than you may suppose;confess to God and man, and pray for forgiveness. We get vexed with thelittle birds sometimes when they spoil our fruit; what do you think ofDick Raynor and Willie Abbot who robbed a poor widow's orchard, and tookaway the cherries that she would have sold to pay her rent? Day by daythe little thieves had a feast in that orchard, and nobody guessed whostole the cherries; but there was One Who saw and knew all about thematter. The rent was not paid, and the widow was turned out of hercottage; Dick and Willie grew to be rich men by and by, and they couldhave paid her rent over and over again, but it was too late then--theaged woman had passed away.

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  MY SWEETHEART'S ILL TO-DAY.

  My sweetheart's ill to-day, Her mates around her linger;She cannot go and play, A pin has pricked her finger!

  A little ache, my dear, But not a scrap of sorrow;At worst, perhaps, a tear, And all forgot to-morrow.

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  MAUD'S NEW SKIPPING-ROPE.

  "Books, books, books! I think you will turn into a book yourself someday, Phil."

  "Wait till I have finished this chapter, Maud, and then I will go outwith you."

  "That is always what you say," said Maud: "just a chapter, just a page,and the time goes."

  Philip turned over another page.

  "Only two more, Maud. Do go. I shall read faster if you do not talk tome. And then I will come,

  And you shall see with your eyes of blue What a nice surprise I have got for you."

  Maud went away slowly, and when she had reached the door she turned tosay,--

  "Be quick, Philip."

  And then she went and put on her garden hat and went into the garden,down the walk between the currant bushes to a piece of waste groundgrown over with short grass, that she called her playground, for hereshe could run about, and jump, and skip, and hop, and try to walk uponstilts, and do all sorts of things; and the
gardener did not find fault,as he did if she skipped in the garden walks, and knocked off a flowerhere and there.

  "I wonder what the surprise is," said Maud, as she sat down on a benchto wait for Philip.

  Before long she saw him coming along, holding his arms behind him. Itwas plain he had got something he did not want her to see.

  As he came nearer to her, he called out--

  "Three guesses, Maud. What have I got in my hand?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Is it a parcel?"

  "Yes, it is a brown paper parcel; but what is in it? That is one guess.Now guess again."

  "Is it a wax doll with curly hair?"

  "No, not quite so large as that."

  "Not so large? then is it a small thing? I have lost my thimble, andI've broken my china cup, so perhaps you have