The Nest in the Honeysuckles, and other Stories Part 3

Willie walked about the lawn, his face lighted up with a smile, and his dark gray eye bright with happiness. His heart was attuned to harmony with all nature around him, and he would frequently look up to his mother, who sat by the open window, enjoying the delightful evening. Presently Willie came, and stood by her side.

"How happy I am this evening!" he said to her. She put her arm around him, and drew him towards her.

"What makes you so happy?" she inquired.

"Because I have been trying to control my temper, I suppose"--was his answer.

"You have not been angry to-day, have you?"

"No, mother."

"Did you pray about it, Willie?"

"Yes, mother. I prayed all day for help."

"How did you pray?"

"I said, Forgive my sins, and give me a new heart."

"G.o.d heard your prayers, and he has helped you to control your temper.

G.o.d always hears prayer, and helps those who ask his aid. I hope you will never forget to pray for what you need," said his mother. Willie smiled, and kissed her, and went out of doors again to enjoy the evening--

"So cool, so calm, so bright."

Willie is generally a good boy, but he has a quick temper. When three or four years old, he would sometimes get very angry. I have even known him to throw things at children with whom he was playing, if they did any thing to offend him. He did so one day when his mother was from home. She was much grieved when she heard it, and talked seriously with him. It made a deep impression on his mind. He speaks of it now with great solemnity, and asks his mother if she remembers it. He feels that he committed a great sin. He knows it is wrong to let his temper govern his reason, and he is struggling to control himself. I think he will succeed.

I knew his grandfather when I was a little girl, and I remember hearing him say that he was naturally quick-tempered; but, although I lived in the same house with him, and saw him under a great variety of circ.u.mstances, I never heard him speak a hasty word. I hope Willie will obtain as perfect control over himself, and, if he lives to manhood, that his friends will be able to say of him what I can say of his grandfather.

Willie was, at one time, playing with some children, and found he was growing angry. He immediately left them, and sat down on the stairs alone. Pretty soon they followed him. He did not feel entirely good-natured, so he again left them, and went into the library. He shut the door and prayed to his Father in heaven for strength to conquer himself. He remained there alone till he felt he had obtained the victory.

Willie is not the only little boy who has a quick temper, and I tell this story about him for the sake of the dear children who sometimes get angry. I hope, like Willie, they will learn to go to G.o.d for help, and then, like his, their countenances will be radiant with gladness; and they, too, can say, "How happy I am!"

"An angry man stirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in transgression."

"He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."

"He that hath no rule over his own spirit, is like a city that is broken down, and without walls."

"EVER SO MANY BEAUTIFUL THINGS."

"There are ever so many beautiful things up in the sky, mother!" said little Eddie, as he sat in his mother's lap, leaning his head upon her encircling arm.

The clouds had gathered about the horizon, and a.s.sumed many beautiful and fantastic shapes. Some of them were gorgeously coloured with the rays of the departing sun, and were shaded from the most delicate rose to the darkest, richest crimson. As the sun receded farther and farther behind the green hills, they grew darker and darker, and the imaginative boy had seen fancied s.h.i.+ps with their sails spread; steam-vessels with clouds of smoke rolling from their chimneys; mountains piled upon mountains; trees, birds, and many other wondrous things which filled his infant mind with admiration.

Soon the stars twinkled forth, and they awoke a new interest. At first they appeared one by one, as if timidly venturing to look down upon our beautiful planet, and when fully a.s.sured that the king of day had disappeared, they came forth faster and more numerously, till the whole heavens were bespangled with their glittering brightness. Then their companion, the moon, came slowly up, s.h.i.+ning with a soft and mellow light, a new beauty in the "blue wilderness of interminable air."

Eddie had long gazed silently before he uttered the exclamation, "There are ever so many beautiful things up in the sky!" and I suppose he had many thoughts which it would have been pleasant for his mother to know. He did not often sit up so late that he could see the stars.

Eddie is not the only one who has been charmed with the glowing sunset, the gray twilight, or the starry firmament. David loved to look upon the works of G.o.d. In one of his psalms, he says, "When I consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man, that thou visitest him!" It was astonis.h.i.+ng to David, that G.o.d, who was so infinitely superior to man, and who had given such proofs of his power and greatness in the creation of the heavens, should condescend to notice him, to provide for his minutest wants, and to protect him from danger. I suppose this psalm was written in the night, when the sweet singer of Israel had been looking at just such a sky as drew from Eddie his exclamation of admiration.

I often think, as I look abroad, how wonderful it is that G.o.d has made every thing so beautiful. We need never be weary in studying his works. The more we learn of them, the more we realize his greatness and perfection. "The heavens declare the glory of G.o.d, and the firmament showeth his handiwork."

When you look at the clear blue sky, do you remember who has spread it out, and who has created the innumerable worlds which we see, when darkness covers our earth? "There are," indeed, "ever so many beautiful things up in the sky," and it was a Father's hand that placed them there. They are for us to enjoy, and many a lesson of love and confidence have they taught G.o.d's children. Dear little Eddie! I hope he will always love nature, and early learn to "look through nature up to nature's G.o.d."

I shall never forget a drive with my father, when I was a child so small that I sat on a little footstool in the carriage, between him and my mother. We were returning from a visit to Aunt Harriet, at whose house we had been spending the day. It was a fine evening. The air was balmy and pleasant. I remember how the frogs sung in the low ground, and how we listened to their quaint music. We had not ridden far before the moon rose, and the stars, one by one, appeared. My father had a true love for nature, and for whatever was beautiful or grand. We drove on without speaking for a time, each enjoying the evening. My father broke the silence by repeating that beautiful hymn of Addison's, commencing with these lines--

"The s.p.a.cious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a s.h.i.+ning frame, Their great Original proclaim."

I was awed by the reverence of his manner, and I felt myself in the presence of my Maker,--a mere speck amid his vast creations. An ineffaceable impression was made on my mind, young as I was. My father died many years ago, while I was still a child, but the lesson of that hour has not been forgotten.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LILY AND HER DUCKLINGS.

The white duck, Lily, made a nest on the ground, in a small enclosure, from which some tame rabbits had been removed. She gathered the scattered straw into one corner, and made a much neater nest than the other ducks did, who laid their eggs under the wood-pile among the small chips.

She laid several large, smooth, white eggs, and when she had as many as she could conveniently take care of, she began to sit on them to keep them warm, till the little ducks should be ready to peck their way out. She plucked the soft white down from her breast, to line the nest, and to make it of a more even temperature for the eggs; and, whenever she left to procure food, or to take a short swim on the pond, she carefully covered them.

The duck cannot spread her wings as wide as the hen, so she has to be much more particular about her nest. She makes it deeper and warmer than Biddy. It is wonderful with what skill all animals rear their young. It shows the great goodness and kindness of G.o.d, that he should thus fit the creatures he has made for the duties they must perform.

His care is continual, not only over us, but over them all. He hears the young ravens when they cry, and the ducks and the chickens are not forgotten by him. To the duck he has not given the brooding wings of the hen-mother; but he has given her a coat of down, from which she can make a warm bed for her cherished eggs.

It was a very pretty sight to see Lily on her nest, almost covered by the straw, her head turned back, and her broad yellow bill partially hidden beneath her wing. The down lay scattered about like snow-flakes. She looked patient and hopeful, as she opened her eyes to see who had intruded on her solitude.

When a sitting-duck goes in search of food, she acts so queerly that you would surely laugh to see her, if you are not accustomed to her odd ways. She bends her head back, and draws it close to her body, and waddles about in the greatest haste, quacking all the time.

Lily waited four weeks before the ducklings appeared. Some of the brood were of a straw-colour, and some were marked with spots of black. They were all pretty. When I first saw them, they were partly hidden beneath their mother. Their glossy bills and bright eyes were visible, but they were afraid to venture from their shelter. They were provided with water and food in the old rabbit-house, because, if they followed their mother to the pond, the musk-rats would probably devour some of them.

While the little ones remained with their mother, they were safe, but when they became discontented, and wandered from home, they were sometimes lost. The rats were their princ.i.p.al enemies, and those from which they had most to fear. They were constantly lurking about to catch the ducklings, and sometimes the defenseless little ones ran directly into their deep holes, from which there was no possibility of escape. Quite a number of Lily's family came to an untimely end in this way.

When I saw them roving about in the high gra.s.s, seeking in vain to find their way to their mother's presence, and hearing their calls for help, and her answering cry of distress, I could but think of the dear children who forget their mother's counsel, and leave her protection before they are old enough to take care of themselves.

The ducklings, I observed, did not know who were their friends; for, one day, when the prettiest of the brood had found a way out of the rabbit-house, I thought I would catch it, and give it back to its mother. It was much alarmed, and Lily was in equal trouble. It ran away from me, thinking, perhaps that I was a greater enemy than the rats, against which it had probably been warned. Just as I was going to put my hand on it, it hid itself in a rat-hole, from which there was no escape. I could not rescue it, neither could its mother. The next morning, when I went to look at the ducks, and give them their breakfast, there lay the poor duckling, close by the fatal hole. The rat had brought it out, and partly devoured it.

Children often think they know what is best for them quite as well, if not better, than their parents, and when told not to do this or that, they are not satisfied to obey quietly, but ask, "Why not?" I think children may often be told why they are bidden to do this, or forbidden to do that; but they should obey their parents promptly, whether they know their reasons or not.

Sometimes there are reasons which children cannot understand, sometimes there are reasons which it would not be wise to tell them, and sometimes it is not convenient to give the why and the wherefore.

Children are commanded to obey their parents,--not the reasons their parents may give them. The young ducks could not understand why their mother did not wish them to go out of that enclosure. They could not comprehend the dangers which surrounded them. They saw the birds flying about in the air, and heard the hum of the bees as they were going abroad for honey, or returning loaded to the hive, and they could not understand why they might not wander about too. The red clover looked very beautiful, and the white clover was so fragrant, they longed to ramble in it. They thought their mother unnecessarily strict, because she wished to keep them with her, instead of permitting them to see all the pretty things of which they could now and then catch a glimpse, as they peeped through the cracks of the rabbit-house.

Children sometimes feel unpleasantly because they are not permitted to play in the street. Ah! they are as ignorant of danger as the poor ducklings and they are too young to understand the peril to which they are exposed. Even if their mother should explain it to them, they could realize but little about it. It is by far the better way for children to feel that their mother knows best, and to be satisfied that her reasons are good and sufficient even if they do not know what they are.