Story Lessons on Character-Building (Morals) and Manners Part 17

XL. EYES AND NO EYES.

88. The Two Brothers.

Have you ever heard of the "Black Country"? It is a part of England where there are many furnaces and iron-works, and a great deal of smoke; that is why it is called by this name.

Two boys, named Francis and Algie, lived in this district, for their father was an iron-worker, and one evening they went out for a long walk. They were away two or three hours, and when they returned their mother said: "Well, boys, what did you see in your walk?"

"Nothing, mother," replied Algie, "there is nothing pretty to be seen; it is all black and ugly."

"Ah!" said Francis, "but there was the =sky=, and that was beautiful, for we were walking towards the sunset, and the colours were changing all the time. First the sky seemed to be all over gold, and then as the sun went down it changed to red; next when I looked there were shades of a lovely green or blue, which soon changed to dark red; it was the loveliest sunset I have ever seen."

How strange it was that, although both boys had eyes, only one of them saw anything worth seeing! Francis was the boy with "eyes," while Algie was as though he had "no eyes". Keep your eyes open, children, and try to see all that is beautiful. It is such a pity when people grow up and walk about without seeing anything. There is always something to see in the sky. Sometimes it is all a lovely blue, with white, fleecy clouds floating across it, or piled up in curly ma.s.ses; and at night it is of a deeper blue, and the stars come peeping out, reminding us in their beauty of goodness and G.o.d:--

Thou Who hast sown the sky with stars-- Setting Thy thoughts in gold.

And the silver moon, which is always changing its shape, how lovely that is! Do not forget to look for the beauty of the sky.

89. Ruby and the Wall.

Little Ruby was not two years old, but she always noticed things, and tried to find out their names.

One day when she was walking out with her auntie they pa.s.sed a stone wall. Ruby looked at it, and then glancing up said, "Wall".

"Yes," said auntie. "What is the wall made of?"

"Coal," answered Ruby quite seriously. (I suppose the blocks of stone reminded her of the same shape in the coals.)

"No, it is not coal," said auntie.

Ruby was puzzled, and thought for a little, then she said, "Wash it".

You see she had never heard the word "stone," and as her little hands, when dirty, became lighter coloured with =washing=, she thought that stone must be "washed" coal. It was wrong, of course, but it shows you that tiny Ruby used her eyes, and =thought= about things.

(Blackboard.)

Two kinds of eyes:-- 1. Eyes that See--Francis, Ruby.

2. Eyes that do not See--Algie.

XLI. LOVE OF THE BEAUTIFUL.[17]

90. The Daisy.

You have often gathered b.u.t.tercups and daisies, but have you ever gazed into the daisy's yellow eye, and thought how wonderful it was? You will find that it is made up of many tiny flowerets, all packed closely together. And the fringe of white petals, tipped with pink, how beautiful =they= are! and so dainty that we might almost think they had been painted by the pencil of a fairy! And have you noticed the strong, green cup which closes round the petals at night, and keeps them all safe?

You have held the pretty b.u.t.tercup under your chin to make it look yellow, but have you ever looked carefully at the shining petals of gold? How smooth, and clear, and glossy they are!

There was once a great, wise king, who was so rich that he had plates and cups of gold instead of china. He made a beautiful throne of ivory, with six lions on the one side and six on the other, and the throne was all overlaid with gold; how bright and glittering it would be! And then picture the king himself in his robes of state, seated on his gilded throne, how dazzling and beautiful it would all look! And yet the greatest Teacher who ever lived--He who took the little children in his arms--said that the great King Solomon, with his throne of ivory and gold, "in all his glory" was not so beautiful as the lily growing in the field. So you see the best of all beauty is close beside us, at our feet indeed, if we only have eyes to see it.

Dear little modest daisy, I love your yellow eye, I love the pink-tipped petals That round the centre lie; I love the pretty b.u.t.tercup Of lovely, shining gold; I love it, for it speaks to me, Of wondrous love untold.

You have heard of other beautiful sights and sounds in the Story Lessons that have gone before (87, 88), and in the Story Lesson which follows you will learn =why= it is good to love all these beautiful things.

FOOTNOTE:

[17] The guessing rhymes, Nos. 74 to 82, headed "Natural Phenomena," in _Games Without Music_, would follow this Story Lesson appropriately.

XLII. ON DESTROYING THINGS.

91. Beauty and Goodness.

Why do we hang pictures on the walls, and put plants in the windows?

Because we want to make the room look pretty.

Why do we love the flowers and the trees, the bright green fields and the waving yellow corn? Why are we so glad to be near the sea, with its glorious, rolling waves, and to bask in the warm, bright rays of the sun? Because they are =all= beautiful, and when we love what is beautiful it helps us to love what is good; and when we love =goodness= we love G.o.d, who gave us all this beauty.

Now you will see why it is so wicked to =destroy= beautiful things. When a boy carves his name on a tree, or breaks off its graceful branches, he =destroys= that which is good, instead of loving it; and how can he grow up gentle and true if he does not love beauty and goodness?

Sometimes people put iron railings round their gardens, and you will have noticed that they are often finished off with a pointed pattern at the top, to make them look pretty. When a boy comes along and knocks off the points, he makes the railings look =ugly= instead of pretty. He would never think of destroying the pictures that hang on the walls of his home, or of throwing the plants away that stand in the window, yet he destroys things that are =not his=, and that other people have put there to make their houses look nice. I am sure you will say this is not right; it is =downright wrong=, just as wrong as it would be for me to go and break that boy's slate, or to snap his wickets in two when he is wanting a game of cricket, and it is all for want of =thinking=.

It is quite dreadful to know that so many cruel, unkind things are done, just because boys and girls do not trouble to =think=! But I hope that =you=, dear children, =will think=, and keep your little hands from spoiling anything.

(Blackboard.)

It is Wrong to Spoil and Destroy.

XLIII. ON TURNING BACK WHEN WRONG.

92. The Lost Path.

A boy named Eric was coming home from school. There were two ways that he could take--one was a path through the fields, and the other was a winding road. It was winter time, and there was snow on the ground. Eric chose the field path, for it was the shorter of the two, but he had not gone far when it began to snow very fast. The snow-flakes were so large, and fell so quickly, that there was very soon quite a thick carpet on the ground, and before long Eric found that he could not see the path, and he scarcely knew where he was. If he had only turned round just then, he could have seen his own footprints in the snow, and following them, would have got back to the road safely, but he did not want to do this, so he went on and on until he was lost entirely, and had not the least idea as to which was the way home.

Then he determined to turn back, and try to reach the road, but where are his footprints? All covered up with snow. Eric felt ready to cry, but he struggled on as long as he could, and then a great drowsiness came over him, and he fell down in the snow.

It is just like that with wrong-doing, if we do not turn back at once, it becomes more and more difficult to find the path, and sometimes the wrong-doer loses it altogether.

When Eric did not come home from school his parents became very anxious, and his father accompanied by the dog went out to seek him. First he took the way by the road, then he came over the field-path, and the dog ran sniffing about in the snow, until he came to what looked like a white mound, and there was Eric half-buried in the snow. You can imagine how pleased the father was when he had his boy safe in his arms, and how gladly he carried him home, for if Eric had not been found quickly, he must have died. Remember Eric in the snow, and