Happy Days for Boys and Girls Part 73

While speaking these words, the colonel called one of the teachers, and pointing to Jacques,--who did not know whether he was dreaming or not,--he said,--

"Take this boy, give him a belt, and a knot of scarlet ribbon on the left shoulder; that is the side which needs strengthening."

Then he explained which exercises he should take, and those he ought to avoid.

He then gave a signal for the bell to ring, and the professors and children were soon busy in the centre of the gymnasium.

It was a pretty sight, I can a.s.sure you. Such a wonderful combination of poles, ropes, posts, and ladders! You might wonder, at first, what they all meant. But soon every child came along in his turn, without effort, and with such perfect enjoyment, that it explained the mystery.

Gymnastic exercises were practised with great care by the ancients.

They formed part of the education of a gentleman. They give that physical beauty and grace which only spring from a fine muscular development. Among the Greeks and Romans, men frequented the gymnasium and the circus. Philosophers, judges, and soldiers took part in these exercises with the citizens, that they might become stronger and more athletic, more active and capable of bearing fatigue.

M. Amoros not only gave health and strength to the pupils of his gymnasium, but he taught them to call only those deeds _great_ which were inspired by bravery, love of humanity, and pure benevolence.

Two years had pa.s.sed away; spring had arrived at the old chateau on the Loire, and M. Martel, the father of little Emilie, had returned from his voyage to Martinique. He was busy in making many necessary repairs in his family mansion, and many workmen came from Paris for that purpose. The night after their arrival, the chateau was discovered to be on fire. M. Martel awoke in haste; startled by the light of the flames, which suddenly illuminated his room, he ran to see where the fire sprang from, and called aloud for his daughter, whom he could not see anywhere. The spectacle that met his view quite overwhelmed him. The story that was on fire was the place where his daughter slept. It could be reached only from a neighboring roof, that was almost consumed. A single beam connected one building with the other. Notwithstanding his age and the gout, which paralyzed one of his limbs, the poor father wished to climb up and save his daughter, or to die with her. They held him back; he uttered fearful shrieks, when a young man, little more than a boy, was seen on the beam, which tottered with his weight. He walked along without fear. A profound silence succeeded to the cries of terror. The souls of the spectators seemed to look out of their eyes. M. Martel fell upon his knees.

The intrepid youth reached the window, and scaled it. They saw him unroll a long rope, or rope-ladder, and fasten it securely to the iron balcony which ornamented the window; then he disappeared.

Not a sound betrayed the anxiety of the spectators. The unknown man returned; he held a young person supported upon his back. He mounted the iron balcony, and suspended himself with his precious burden upon it, for she was well secured by a strong belt. This horrible suspense was more than M. Martel could bear. He covered his face with his hands. But soon the universal shouts of joy told him that his daughter was safe.

After the first moments of delight, the young girl turned to her deliverer. An exclamation of surprise fell from their lips.

"Jacques!"

"Mademoiselle Emilie!"

Then they gazed at each other in silence by the red light of the fire.

They were no longer two pale, sad children, with haggard little faces, already prematurely old. They had been separated ever since Emilie had left the gymnasium, and, not living in the same place, they hardly recognized each other. Emilie was a tall and beautiful girl, enjoying all the delight of perfect health. Jacques almost had become a man.

M. Martel had not heard without emotion about his daughter's generous act, and her efforts to have Jacques received as a pupil in the Amoros gymnasium.

"Am I not well rewarded?" she exclaimed, extending her hand to the young man. "You would not have had any daughter without him, papa. The horror of my position, the impossibility of my finding a rope, a ladder, or any way of escape, frightened me so, that I lost my senses, and I should have been burned alive, if it had not been for Jacques."

"Ah, mademoiselle," said the slater's son, with emotion, "it is not life alone that I owe to you; is it not more than life? It is health, the use of my limbs, and the happiness of being able to support my mother. Yes, mademoiselle," added Jacques, with fervor, "I am a workman, and thanks to the lessons of our excellent professor, Colonel Amoros, I am more skilful than any of my fellow-laborers. I can support my family, and my wages are higher, because I can work harder and work longer than the rest."

"Brave boy!" exclaimed M. Martel, pressing Jacques in his arms, who was quite overcome at the meeting. "From this day forward you shall be my son. I will take charge of your education and your advancement, of your mother and your sister. Brave boy! My daughter has done much for you, but you deserve it; she understood your heart."

M. Martel kept his word. And some days after, when Jacques and his uncle met in the small attic of the poor widow, and were rejoicing over the happy change in their fortunes, the poor mother clasped her boy's head to her heart, and bathed his curls with tears, and covered them with kisses, exclaiming,--

"Now you see, brother, Jacques was not a useless creature. It is owing to him that our fortune is made."

"Yes, thanks to Colonel Amoros," said the workman.

"Thanks to Mademoiselle Emilie," said Jacques, heaving a sigh.

S. W. LANDER.

[Decoration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: {The girl kisses her father on the forehead}]

A DINNER AND A KISS.

"I have brought your dinner, father,"

The blacksmith's daughter said, As she took from her arm the kettle, And lifted its s.h.i.+ning lid.

"There is not any pie or pudding; So I will give you this;"

And upon his toil-worn forehead She left the childish kiss.

The blacksmith took off his ap.r.o.n, And dined in happy mood, Wondering much at the savor Hid in his humble food, While all about him were visions Full of prophetic bliss; But he never thought of the magic In his little daughter's kiss.

While she, with her kettle swinging, Merrily trudged away, Stopping at sight of a squirrel, Catching some wild bird's lay, O, I thought, how many a shadow Of life and fate we would miss, If always our frugal dinners Were seasoned with a kiss!

MY MOTHER.

"Honor thy father and thy mother."

Father and mother! sacred names and dear; The sweetest music to the infant ear, And dearer still to those, a joyous band, Who sport in childhood's bright enchanted land.

And when, as years roll on, night follows day, The young wax old and loved ones pa.s.s away, Through mists of time yet holier and more dear, "Father and mother" sound to memory's ear.

The days, the hours, the moments as they speed, Each crowned by loving thought or word or deed, Oh, heart's long-suffering, self-denying! sure Earth holds no love more true, and none so pure.

Thou happy child whom a good G.o.d hath given A parents' shelt'ring home, that earthly heaven, Where ceaseless care, where tireless love and true, Nurse thy young life as flowers are nursed by dew.

E'en as the flowers, for the dear debt they owe, Bloom, and sweet odors in rich meed bestow, Let the fair blossoms of thy love and duty Cl.u.s.ter about thy home in fragrant beauty.

Never from eye or lip be seen or heard The sullen glance or the rebellious word, And never wilfully or heedless pain The tender hearts that cannot wound again.

But fond caress, sweet smile and loving tone, Obedience prompt and glad, be thine alone, For filial love, like mercy, is twice blest; While to the parent of earth's joys the best, Richer than treasures of the land or sea, It wins G.o.d's blessing, O my child, for thee!

[Ill.u.s.tration: MY MOTHER.]

REGINALD'S FIRST SCHOOL-DAYS.

One frosty morning in January two delicate-looking children were sitting before a blazing fire in a long, low nursery with oak rafters running across the ceiling. Between them lay a great s.h.a.ggy dog.