Gems Gathered In Haste Part 1

Gems Gathered in Haste.

by Anonymous.

A BRIGHT THOUGHT SPEEDILY EXECUTED.

It is an excellent rule, no doubt, children, not to be in a hurry; and the proverbs, "Take time by the forelock" and "The more haste the worse speed," are wise proverbs, worth keeping. But occasions occur, once in a while, when working hastily is a great deal better than not working at all, and may be working to some purpose too. I remember a case of this kind. In a certain town, on the forenoon of July 3, 183-, when "Floral Processions" were novel affairs, a company of ladies and gentlemen were a.s.sembled in a barn-chamber, finishing off and packing up a lot of moss baskets, and arranging bunches of flowers to be sent to Boston, to the Warren-street Chapel, by the mail coach at 3 o'clock, P.M. It was about 10 o'clock when one of the party,--suppose we call him, for convenience just now, Mr. Perseverance,--who had been looking out of the window, down upon a very little garden, suddenly turned round, and exclaimed that something might be made prettier than any thing they had yet done. He told what it was. "It is impossible to do it now. We must wait till next year," said his friends. "Nothing like trying: a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. No time like the present," replied Mr. Perseverance, a pertinacious gentleman, who wanted to "strike when the iron was hot," and carry out his notion without delay. Accordingly, he caught up two sticks, and nailed them together, so as to get the right shape. Then he went down town,--the town being small, he had not far to go,--begged at the bookstore a few "show-bills," containing the letters he needed for patterns; bought a sheet of gold paper and half an ounce of gum-arabic, twice as much of both as he really wanted; people in a hurry are not apt to calculate very nicely, or be very economical, you know. He carried his articles back to the barn, and asked a lady to try to cut out a motto he had selected, and gum it on a ribbon. "But where shall I get the ribbon?"

said the lady. "Oh! find it somewhere," said Mr. Perseverance; "and be sure and have all ready when I return." There was one spot in the woods he remembered visiting months before with a boy in his neighborhood, on which grew another material, indispensable to his project. He found the lad: they jumped into a chaise; rode two or three miles to a grove; and, on searching a few moments, found what they were after,--a plant green in mid-winter as well as in summer, and prized by everybody who loves Christmas; gathered a bushel of it, more or less; and got home again before dinner. Meanwhile, the lady, with others to help her, had been busy; and all were wide awake now, entering into the spirit of the matter, thinking that the bright idea of Mr. Perseverance might possibly be accomplished in season. A splendid bunch of pure white lilies, not quite open, was fastened to the longest stick, the stems covered with wet paper or moss; then both pieces of wood were wound round with thick and rich evergreen, leaving the glorious flowers standing out gracefully, and white as the new-fallen snow. Next came the motto, in golden letters, on a broad white satin ribbon, which Mrs. Perseverance had found: it was the belt of her bridal dress, carefully preserved for several years, and now devoted to a good cause. The "emblem" was completed and packed just in time for the coach. "And what was it?" An evergreen cross, with the lilies at the centre; the ribbon hanging as a festoon from the arms, and bearing the words--

"_Consider the Lilies_!"

On reaching the city, it was much admired, and attracted a good many eyes in the show the next day. I believe there has hardly been a "Floral Procession" since, without a similar device; and among the banners used at the Warren-street Chapel, is a bright one of silk, which has on it the cross and the lilies finely painted.

Now, let me tell you why I have sketched this incident as an introduction to the following pages. On the 24th of December, 1850, a letter came to me from a friend, asking if I was preparing a tract, as in former days, for a New Year's Gift, or if I could help him, his brother and sister teachers, in selecting some fit and cheap book for all the two hundred children they love to meet every Sunday. At first, I only thought of answering that I was sorry to say he must look to somebody else for what was wanted. But I did not quite like to do this; and, presently remembering the achievement of Mr. Perseverance, I said to myself, if he got that cross made in a few hours, why cannot a tract be made in a few days? I consulted the printer, and he agreed to do all he could. So we went to work immediately, and here are the "Gems Gathered in Haste."

GEMS GATHERED IN HASTE.

To show how great evils may be prevented by a little care, and how much good a child may do, let me begin with the story of

THE LITTLE HERO OF HAARLEM.

At an early period in the history of Holland, a boy was born in Haarlem, a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, but happily still more so for its manufactures and inventions in peace.

His father was a _sluicer_,--that is, one whose employment it was to open and shut the sluices, or large oak-gates, which, placed at certain regular distances, close the entrance of the ca.n.a.ls, and secure Holland from the danger to which it seems exposed, of finding itself under water, rather than above it. When water is wanted, the sluicer raises the sluices more or less, as required, as a cook turns the c.o.c.k of a fountain, and closes them again carefully at night; otherwise the water would flow into the ca.n.a.ls, then overflow them, and inundate the whole country; so that even the little children in Holland are fully aware of the importance of a punctual discharge of the sluicer's duties. The boy was about eight years old, when, one day, he asked permission to take some cakes to a poor blind man, who lived at the other side of the d.y.k.e. His father gave him leave, but charged him not to stay too late. The child promised, and set off on his little journey. The blind man thankfully partook of his young friend's cakes; and the boy, mindful of his father's orders, did not wait, as usual, to hear one of the old man's stories; but, as soon as he had seen him eat one m.u.f.fin, took leave of him to return home.

As he went along by the ca.n.a.ls, then quite full,--for it was in October, and the autumn rains had swelled the waters,--the boy now stopped to pull the little blue flowers which his mother loved so well; now, in childish gayety, hummed some merry song. The road gradually became more solitary; and soon neither the joyous shout of the villager, returning to his cottage-home, nor the rough voice of the carter, grumbling at his lazy horses, was any longer to be heard.

The little fellow now perceived that the blue of the flowers in his hand was scarcely distinguishable from the green of the surrounding herbage, and he looked up in some dismay. The night was falling; not, however, a dark winter night, but one of those beautiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which every object is perceptible, though not as distinctly as by day. The child thought of his father, of his injunction, and was preparing to quit the ravine in which he was almost buried, and to regain the beach, when suddenly a slight noise, like the trickling of water upon pebbles, attracted his attention. He was near one of the large sluices, and he now carefully examines it, and soon discovers a hole in the wood, through which the water was flowing. With the instant perception which every child in Holland would have, the boy saw that the water must soon enlarge the hole through which it was now only dropping, and that utter and general ruin would be the consequence of the inundation of the country that must follow. To see, to throw away the flowers, to climb from stone to stone till he reached the hole, and to put his finger into it, was the work of a moment; and, to his delight, he finds that he has succeeded in stopping the flow of the water.

This was all very well for a little while, and the child thought only of the success of his device. But the night was closing in, and with the night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No one came. He shouted--he called loudly--no one answered. He resolved to stay there all night; but, alas! the cold was becoming every moment more biting, and the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feel benumbed, and the numbness soon extended to the hand, and thence throughout the whole arm. The pain became still greater, still harder to bear; but still the boy moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his father, of his mother, of his little bed, where he might now be sleeping so soundly; but still the little fellow stirred not, for he knew that did he remove the small slender finger which he had opposed to the escape of the water, not only would he himself be drowned, but his father, his brothers, his neighbors--nay, the whole village. We know not what faltering of purpose, what momentary failures of courage, there might have been during that long and terrible night; but certain it is, that, at day-break, he was found in the same painful position by a clergyman returning from attendance on a death-bed, who, as he advanced, thought he heard groans, and, bending over the d.y.k.e, discovered a child seated on a stone, writhing from pain, and with pale face and tearful eyes.

"Boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?"

"I am hindering the water from running out," was the answer, in perfect simplicity, of the child, who, during the whole night, had been evincing such heroic fort.i.tude and undaunted courage.

--Sharpe's Magazine.

I copy these verses for two reasons. They teach trust in G.o.d; and they were written by a gentleman who, I am sure, remembers with pleasure when he was a scholar in the Sunday School; the request of whose superintendents induced me to make this miniature book.

STORM AT SEA.

We were crowded in the cabin; Not a soul would dare to sleep: It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep.

'Tis a fearful thing, in winter To be shattered in the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"

So we shuddered there in silence; For the stoutest held his breath, While the hungry sea was roaring, And the breakers talked with Death.

As thus we sat in darkness, Each one busy in his prayers, "We are lost!" the captain shouted, As he staggered down the stairs.

But his little daughter whispered, As she took his icy hand, "Isn't G.o.d upon the ocean Just the same as on the land?"

Then we kissed the little maiden, And we spoke in better cheer, And we anch.o.r.ed safe in harbor When the morn was shining clear.

J.T. Fields.

Here are two anecdotes: one for boys, the other for girls. When you read the first, remember that all good deeds are not published, and cherish always the belief that many kind acts are done which are never put in print to be read by everybody.

KINDNESS.

This word seldom begins an article in a newspaper, but "cruelty" or "murder" more often instead. It is a pleasure to record an act of kindness; painful that we have not frequent opportunities. Yet such an act made our heart glad, filled it with a new love for our kind, only a day or two since. A school-girl, about ten years of age, was pa.s.sing, with a smaller school-girl in her arms, whom she carried with much difficulty; for the weather was sultry. Other children were in company, with books in their hands. The whole party stopped to rest under the shade of a tree. Just then, a gentleman observed the group.

His attention was particularly attracted by the child, still supported by the arm of her friend. "What's the matter, my little Miss?" he inquired, in his kind, soft tone. "She's sick, sir," replied the friend. "And are you taking her home?" "I'm trying, sir." "How far off does she live?" "Down by the Long Bridge." "A mile or more! and you would carry her through the hot sun! no shade on the way either!" "I must try, sir," answered the school-girl. "No, you must not," said the kind gentleman, "it would kill both of you." A carriage pa.s.sed at this moment. A word and a waving arm caused it to draw up to the pavement.

All the party entered it, and all right merry, except the sick one; but even she looked up with a faint smile, fixing her large, tender eyes on the face of the stranger. The driver had been instructed fully as to his destination, had been paid too, and now drove away. "Poor little girl!" said the gentleman to himself, in a low voice. "Good bye, sir!" said all the children, in a high tone.

--Washington News.

A BRAVE BOY.

An interesting little boy, who could not swim, whilst skating on our river on New Year's Day, ran into a large air-hole. He kept himself for a time above water: the little boys, all gathered round the opening, tried to hand him poles; but the ice continued breaking, and he was still floating out of reach. Despair at last seized his heart, and was visible in every face around. At this moment, when, exhausted, the poor little fellow was about to sink, a brave and generous-hearted boy exclaimed, "I cannot stand it, boys!" He wheeled round, made a run, and dashed in at the risk of his own life, and seized the little boy and swam to the edge of the ice with him: after breaking his way to the more solid ice, he succeeded in handing him out to his companions, who then a.s.sisted him out. In Rome, this act of heroism would have insured this brave youth a civic crown. His name is Albert Hershbergar.

--Charleston (Va.) Republican.

I know a little girl who has committed this to memory. Let all little girls and boys who read it do the same, and they will have music worth listening to in their own hearts.

LITTLE CHILDREN, LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

A little girl, with a happy look, Sat slowly reading a ponderous book, All bound with velvet and edged with gold, And its weight was more than the child could hold; Yet dearly she loved to ponder it o'er, And every day she prized it more; For it said, and she looked at her smiling mother,-- It said, "Little children, love one another."

She thought it was beautiful in the book, And the lesson home to her heart she took; She walked on her way with a trusting grace, And a dove-like look in her meek young face; Which said, just as plain as words could say, "The Holy Bible I must obey: So, mamma, I'll be kind to my darling brother; For 'little children must love each other.'

I'm sorry he's naughty, and will not play; But I'll love him still, for I think the way To make him gentle and kind to me Will be better shown if I let him see I strive to do what I think is right; And thus, when I kneel in prayer to-night, I will clasp my hands around my brother, And say, 'Little children, love one another.'"

The little girl did as her Bible taught, And pleasant indeed was the change it wrought; For the boy looked up in glad surprise, To meet the light of her loving eyes: His heart was full,--he could not speak; But he pressed a kiss on his sister's cheek; And G.o.d looked down on that happy mother Whose "little children loved each other."

--Bath Paper.