Pretty Tales for the Nursery Part 2

His mamma saw that he did not speak the truth, for his face was very red, and he looked like a boy that was telling a lie. I cannot tell you how sad she felt to think that her little Harry should be such a wicked child.

But before she had time to say a word, all at once Harry missed his book-bag off his arm, and he knew that he had left it lying in the street. He could no longer hide his fault from his mamma, so he began to cry, and said, "May I go back and look for my book-bag? I have left it on a step at some one's door."

Then his mamma asked, "How came you to put your book-bag on the step?"

And Harry cried more than before, and told her that he had stayed to play with the other boys.

His mamma said, "You have been a very wicked boy, and there are two things that I must punish you for. I must punish you for not coming home as you were bid, and then for trying to hide your fault by telling a lie."

So she called Susan, and asked her to go up the street with Harry to look for his book-bag. By this time it was nearly dark, and Harry took hold of Susan's hand, and went crying along the street. One or two people who pa.s.sed him said, "I wonder what is the matter with that little boy." When they came to the corner of the street where he had stayed to play, he said, "This is the place, and I laid my book-bag on that step." Then Susan looked, and Harry looked; but the book-bag was not there. Susan said that some one must have stolen it.

Harry was afraid that his mamma would be very angry when she knew that his bag and all his school-books were quite gone. But no, that which gave her most pain and grief was to know that her little boy had not spoken the truth. It is a sad thing to tell a lie. G.o.d has said that all liars shall have their part in the lake of fire that burns for ever and ever.

So Harry's mamma had to punish him, very soon after he had told her that he would be always good. He had now found out that he had a sinful heart. You also are a sinner, young reader. You often do what is wrong.

Do not forget this story about Harry; and if ever you feel proud when you have tried to do well, go and say this little prayer to your Father who is in heaven: "O Lord, I am a poor sinful child. I cannot do right of myself. Pardon my sins, and give me a meek and humble heart, for the sake of Jesus Christ my Saviour. Amen."

THE POND IN THE FIELD.

Mary lived with her mother in a little house. She often sat by the door on a long seat, and then would run about the field on the other side of the road. There was a narrow path in the field, and people used to walk along it when they came that way from the town. Down at the corner of the field, near the stile, there were some tall trees, and under the trees there was a pond. The water in the pond was not very deep, but it was deep enough to drown a little girl like Mary, so her mother told her she must never play near the pond, for fear she should slip in.

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While Mary was at play, her mother was at work in the house. For her mother was poor, and had to work to find them food, and things to wear to keep them warm. So she could not spare time to look after her little girl when she was at play.

Mary's mother came home from market one day, and in her basket she had a little tin can, with a handle, and she gave it to Mary for her own. So she always drank her milk and her tea out of this can. Now Mary had seen her mother go down to the pond to fetch a pail of water, and it came into her head that she would fetch the water in her own little can, to fill the kettle for tea. So when her mother was busy at work, she got on a chair, and took her can off the shelf, and away she ran down to the pond, not saying a word.

Mary went close to the pond with her little can in her hand, to stoop down and dip it into the water. But the can fell into the water. The gra.s.s at the edge of the pond was muddy and wet, and so, just as she was going to stoop down, Mary's foot went slip--slip, and she fell into the water. Poor Mary! she gave one loud scream, and that was all that she could do.

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Now not far from the spot where Mary fell into the pond, a kind girl named Jane, who lived close by, was reading a book as she sat under a tree. She heard a splash in the water, and saw Mary fall into the pond.

She soon threw down her book on the gra.s.s, and ran to help the poor little girl out of the water. She took hold of Mary's frock, and pulled her out of the pond. Then she took her up in her arms, and ran with her along the narrow path to the house, for she well knew that the house by the side of the field was little Mary's home.

Mary's mother met them at the door, and when she saw her little girl, she began to cry. But kind Jane said, "Do not cry. Your little girl is not hurt." So they took off Mary's wet frock, and put on her a nice dry nightgown, and laid her in bed. And her mother made her some warm tea, and then she went to sleep. When she woke up again, she was quite well.

Jane went back to the field to pick up her book, but Mary's little can was nowhere to be seen. It was never heard of again; and Mary had to drink her milk and her tea out of a tea cup, for the little tin can was quite gone. I do not think she went near the pond again. It was a lesson to her ever after, to mind and do as her mother told her.

MAMMA'S DOLL.

_Ellen._ Oh! mamma, I am so sorry! Look at my poor doll. I let baby play with it, and she has thrown it upon the floor, and broken its nose.

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_Mamma._ Poor doll! You do look a sad figure, indeed.

_Ellen._ I did not like to be unkind to baby, you know, mamma, and so I gave it to her for a little while, when she held out her hands to take it. But I did not think she would throw it upon the floor.

_Mamma._ Do not cry, my dear. Come and sit upon my knee, and I will tell you a story. I hope you were not very angry with baby. She is too young to know that a doll is not to be thrown upon the floor.

_Ellen._ No, mamma, I was not angry. Baby did not know any better. But I cannot help crying for my pretty doll.

_Mamma._ Let me wipe away that tear. Now hear my story. I am going to tell you about my doll, when I was a little girl.

_Ellen._ Oh! mamma, had you a doll, once? And was it as large as mine?

Was it a wax doll, mamma?

_Mamma._ It was a large wax doll much larger than yours; and it had blue eyes and dark brown hair. When I was a little older than you are, I went with my mamma and my aunt to spend some weeks in a fine old city; and one day while we were there, my mamma took me into a shop, and bought this doll for me. She said I must dress it myself, and my aunt showed me the proper way to make its frocks. With this help I was able to dress it very nicely. And my mamma said to me, "This is the last doll that I intend to buy for you; for, if you take care of it, it will not spoil like your other dolls."

_Ellen._ And did you take care of it, mamma?

_Mamma._ Yes, for my mamma taught me to be neat, and to keep everything in order, as I try to teach you. So at the end of a year, my doll looked just as good as new. I used to play with it very often, and I called it by the name of Jessie. I had a little sister, as you have, whom I loved very much, and when she was a baby I used to nurse her, and kiss her little soft cheeks. But when she was two or three years old, she was taken very ill, and could no longer play about the nursery. She grew pale and thin, and used to lie all day in the nurse's arms, or in her little cot. She was too ill to play with any of the toys that she had been fond of before. But one day I took my doll to the side of her little cot, where she was lying, and then she gave a very faint smile; so I laid it by her side, and that seemed to please her. After that, when she was lying in her cot, the doll always lay there too, for it was the only thing which seemed to please her, all the time that she was ill.

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One day, when I wanted to go into her room as I had been used to do, they told me she was dead. I saw her when she was laid in her little coffin. She was pale, and so very cold. There were some flowers lying on her pillow, and a rose-bud in each little hand. The soul of the dear baby was gone to G.o.d; and her body was laid in a grave, under the yew tree in the churchyard.

_Ellen._ Oh! dear mamma, how sad you must have felt! What should I do if our dear baby were to die?

_Mamma._ I did indeed feel sad, and after that time I could never bear to play with my pretty doll, for the sight of it seemed to bring back my grief again. So my mamma put it by with great care, and all the frocks and other things that I had made. But only think, Ellen, what pain I should have felt, if I had been unkind to my little sister when she wished to have my doll. Should not all little girls try to be kind to each other?

_Ellen._ I will try, mamma; and I am glad that I was not cross with baby when she threw my doll upon the floor.

_Mamma._ I have not yet done with the story about my doll. It was put by safe in a drawer, and lay there a great many years, and when I was grown up, I used to look at it now and then. My mamma never gave it away. Can you guess where it is now? And should you not like to see my pretty Jessie?

_Ellen._ Yes, mamma, I should like to see her, indeed.

_Mamma._ Then after dinner we will take a walk, and pay a visit to grandmamma, and we will ask her to show us the doll that came from the fine old city so many long years ago.

_Ellen._ Thank you, mamma, that will be very nice. And may I play with Jessie a little while, and walk with her round grandmamma's garden?

_Mamma._ You may, my love. And since baby, who did not know any better, has broken your doll's face, it shall be put among her toys for her to play with. And we will ask grandmamma to let Jessie come home with us.

You have been a kind little girl; and so, as I like to see you happy, you shall have her for your own.

THE SHORT TEXT.

Have you ever seen a book of Short Texts in Short Words? It is a book for a little child, and there is in it a very short and easy text for every day in the year. A text means some words taken from the Bible, which is G.o.d's own book, that he has given to teach us the way to heaven. The Bible tells us about our sins, and about the Lord Jesus Christ, who came to seek and to save us. And it also tells us how we may become holy, by the help of the Holy Spirit.

But I was going to tell you about the book of texts. Little Arthur had one of these books, and he used to learn the text for every day, and repeat it to his mamma before he began school. Arthur did not go to school to any one but his mamma. She taught him his lesson each day, and heard him say it.