Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

XL.—THE DO-NOTHINGS.

THE Do-Nothings are a very numerous family: some members of it are found in all parts of the country; and there are very few schools in which some of them are not in attendance as pupils. They are known by their slow and listless steps, their untidy appearance, and the want of animation and interest in their faces. They do not do any thing, whether work or play, with a hearty good will. Their hair is apt to be in disorder: their hands and faces are not always clean: their clothes look as if they had been half put on. They are always in a hurry, and yet always behindhand. They are sometimes absent from school, and often tardy; but for every neglect of duty they always have some sort of an excuse.

A girl of this family gets up in the morning late, dresses herself in a hurry, and comes down stairs a little out of humor from the feeling that she has begun the day wrong. The family breakfast is over, and she is obliged to take hers alone; which does not improve her temper. She knows that she has a French lesson to learn before school; but she is attracted by a new picture book which had been brought home the day before for one of her little brothers, and she takes it up, meaning only to look over the pictures. But she becomes interested in the story, turns over one leaf after another, and at last nine o'clock strikes before she is aware of it.

She huddles on her shawl and bonnet, and hastens to school as fast as possible; but she is late in spite of her hurry, and is marked for tardiness. It takes her some time to get seated in her desk, and to recover from the heat and flurry of coming to school so fast. She at first proposes to learn the French lesson, which she ought to have done at home; but after studying a few moments, she finds some leaves missing from her dictionary. She tries to borrow one from a neighbor, but in vain; so she becomes discouraged, and thinks she will do a few sums in arithmetic.

So she takes out her slate, and begins to wash it; spending much more time in this process than is necessary. She tries a sum, and cannot do it, and thinks it the fault of the pencil. So she proceeds to sharpen that with great deliberation, making every body around her uneasy with the disagreeable, grating sound. When this operation is over, she looks at the clock, and sees that it will soon be time to recite in geography, of which she has not learned any thing.

She puts up her slate, pencil, and arithmetic, and takes out her geography and atlas. By the time these are opened and spread before her, she hears a band of music in the street. Her seat is near the window, and she wastes some precious minutes in looking at the soldiers as they pass by. She has hardly made any progress in her study of geography when she is called up to recite. She knows very little of her lesson, gives wrong answers to the questions put to her, and gets a bad mark.

Soon after this, the class in French to which she belongs goes up to recite. This lesson she has only half learned, and she blunders sadly when called upon to answer. She goes back to her desk in an unhappy state of mind, and takes up her arithmetic once more. But she feels dissatisfied with herself, and cannot fix her attention upon her task. She comes to the conclusion that she has got a headache, which is a very common excuse with her, and that she cannot study. So she puts a cover upon one of her books, and writes a note to one of her young friends about going to a concert; and when this is over the bell for dismissal rings.

And this half day may be taken as a fair sample of the whole school life of Miss Do-Nothing. It is a long succession of lessons half learned, of sums half done, of blotted copy books, of absences and tardinesses, of wasted hours and neglected opportunities. Most of the annoyance which teachers suffer in the discharge of their duties comes from boys and girls of this family. They have two seemingly opposite traits: they are always idle, and yet always restless. They move about on

their seats, and lean upon their desks in a great variety of postures. They talk with their fingers; and keep up a constant whispering and buzzing with their lips, which disturbs scholars and teachers alike.

The boys are very expert in catching flies, and moulding pieces of paper into the shape of boats or cocked hats. They draw figures upon their slates, and scribble over the fly-leaves of their books. In summer they are afflicted with a constant thirst, and in winter their feet and hands are always cold. Both boys and girls are apt to be troubled with drowsiness in the daytime; and yet they are very reluctant to go to bed when the proper hour comes. They are fond of laying the fault of their own indolence upon the weather; they would have learned their lesson if it had not been so hot, or so cold, or so rainy.

There is one remarkable peculiarity about this family: every boy and girl that chooses can leave it, and join the Do-Somethings; the members of which are always glad to welcome deserters from the Do-Nothings. The boys and girls of the Do-Something family are always busy, always cheerful; working heartily when they work, and playing heartily when they play. They are neat in their appearance, and punctual in attendance upon school: every thing is done in proper order, and yet nothing is hurried: they are the joy of their parents, and the delight of their teachers.

My young friends into whose hands this book may fall, to which of these two families do you belong? Remember that the usefulness and happiness of your whole lives depend upon the answer to this question. No one can be truly happy who is not useful; and no one can be useful who is idle, careless, and negligent.

XLI. THE GOODNESS OF GOD: A HYMN IN PROSE.

MRS. BARBAULD.

COME, let us go into the thick shade, for it is the noon of day, and the summer sun beats hot upon our heads.

The shade is pleasant and cool; the branches meet above our heads, and shut out the sun as with a green curtain; the is soft to our feet, and a clear brook washes the roots of the trees.

grass

The sloping bank is covered with flowers; let us lie down upon it; let us throw our limbs on the fresh grass and sleep; for all things are still, and we are quite alone.

The cattle can lie down to sleep in the cool shade, but we can do what is better; we can raise our voices to heaven; we can praise the great God who made us.

He made the warm sun, and the cool shade; the trees that grow upwards, and the brooks that run murmuring along. All the things that we see are his work.

Can we raise our voices up to the high heaven? Can we make Him hear who is above the stars? We need not raise our voices to the stars, for he heareth us when we only whisper; when we breathe out words softly with a low voice. He that filleth the heavens is here also.

May we, that are so young, speak to Him that always was? May we, that can hardly speak plain, speak to God?

We, that are so young, are but lately made alive; therefore we should not forget his forming hand who hath made us alive. We, that cannot speak plain, should lisp out praises to Him who teacheth us how to speak, and hath opened our dumb lips.

When we could not think of him, he thought of us; before we could ask him to bless us, he had already given us many blessings.

He fashioneth our tender limbs, and causeth them to grow; he maketh us strong, and tall, and nimble.

Every day we are more active than the former day; therefore every day we ought to praise him better than the former day.

The buds spread into leaves, and the blossoms swell to fruit; but they know not how they grow, nor who caused them to spring up from the bosom of the earth.

Ask them if they will tell thee; bid them break forth into singing, and fill the air with pleasant sounds.

They smell sweet, they look beautiful; but they are quite silent; no sound is in the still air, no murmur of voices amongst the green leaves.

The plants and the trees are made to give fruit to man; but man is made to praise God, who made him.

We love to praise him, because he loveth to bless us; we thank him for life, because it is a pleasant thing to be alive. We love God, who hath created all beings; we love all beings, because they are the creatures of God.

We cannot be good, as God is good, to all persons every where; but we can rejoice that every where there is a God to do them good.

We will think of God when we play and when we work; when we walk out and when we come in; when we sleep and when we wake; his praise shall dwell continually upon our lips.

XLII.- WE ARE SEVEN.

A SIMPLE child,

That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl;

She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl,
That clustered round her head.

« AnteriorContinuar »