Cinderella - - (read people like a book txt) 📗
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That is a question we must try to have answered. For my part I do
not believe he deserved it at all. Let us see what happened next.
Just as the little girl struck the last blow her Aunt Margaret
came into the room. Aunt Margaret stopped in the doorway,
astonished.
“Why Flora,” she said, as puss darted out of the room, “what are
you beating Griffin for?”
“What do you think he was doing?” cried Flora, her cheeks still
flushed with anger. “He was on the table just ready to spring at
this beautiful bird in my new hat. If I had not come he would
have torn it to pieces.”
“But he knew no better, said Aunt Margaret, “it is perfectly
natural for a cat to spring at a bird. Yes, and for him to kill
it too, if he has not been trained to do otherwise.”
“But it would have made me feel dreadfully to have this beautiful
bird torn to bits. I really love it. Besides, it was killed long
ago.”
“Yes,” said Aunt Margaret, “killed that you might wear it on a
hat.”
There was something in Aunt Margaret’s voice which made Flora
and the little girls who were visiting her stand very still and
look up.
“You say,” continued Aunt Margaret very gently, “you say you love
your beautiful bird. That you would feel dreadfully if it were
torn to bits. How do you think its bird-mother felt when it was
torn from her nest, and she never saw it again?”
“Oh,” said Flora, “I never thought of that before. I’m afraid,—
I’m afraid I’m more to blame than the cat.”
DINAH’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT.
Dinah Morris is a colored girl. She lives in the South. By South
we mean in the southern part of the United States.
Dinah is one of the most good-natured children that ever lived,
but she is very, very lazy. There is nothing she likes, or used
to like, so much as to curl up in some warm corner in the sun and
do nothing.
Dinah’s mother wished very much that her child should learn to
read, but the lady who tried to teach her soon gave it up. “It is
no use,” she said, “Dinah will not learn. She is not a stupid
child, but she is too lazy for anything.”
It happened, soon after this, that a young man from Massachusetts
came to the house where Dinah lived. He brought with him
something no one else in the neighborhood had ever seen before—a
pair of roller-skates.
When Dinah saw the young man going rapidly up and down the piazza
on his skates she was so astonished she hardly knew what to
think. She ran after him like a cat, her black eyes shining as
they had never shone before.
One day the young man allowed her to try on the skates. The child
was too happy for words. Of course she fell down, and sprawled
about the floor, but did not mind at all.
“Look here, Dinah,” said the young man, “I understand that my
aunt has been trying to teach you to read.”
Dinah answered that she certainly had.
“Why didn’t you learn?” asked the young man. “You need not
trouble to answer,” said he, “it was just because you are too
lazy. Now, if, on the first of January, you can read, I tell you
what I will do. I will send you as good a pair of roller-skates
as I can buy in Boston.”
How Dinah’s eyes snapped. For a moment she said nothing, then
exclaimed decidedly, “I’ll have those skates, sure.”
And she did. When she bent her mind on her work she could always
do it well, no matter what it was.
The lady who had before this found her such a difficult child to
teach, now had no trouble. If Dinah showed the least sign of her
former laziness the word SKATES! was enough to make her bend her
mind on her lesson instantly.
On New Year’s morning she received a box marked in large printed
letters:
MISS DINAH MORRIS,
Care of Mrs. Lawrence Delaney,
NEW ORLEANS, LA.
If she can read what is on the outside of
this box she can have what is inside.
And as Dinah read every word plainly and quickly, of course she
had for her very own the fine roller-skates the box held. And now
sitting curled up in the sun, doing nothing, is not the thing she
likes to do best.
NIGHT FLOWERS.
There are some flowers that never see the sun. One of the most
curious is the “evening primrose.” About six o’clock it suddenly
bursts open, with a popping sound, and at six next morning
closes.
If you watch that pretty flower, and listen, you can hear
this strange performance.
This is why it does so. The little calyx holds the petals in such
a way that the moment it turns back they are let loose. At
once it bursts out into full flower, with this funny noise, like
a pop-gun.
So the “night-blooming cereus” blossom in the night, only for an
hour, giving out its sweet fragrance, and then dies. Just think
of never seeing the sun at all!
In a far Eastern country there is a kind of jasmine called the
“sorrowful tree.” It droops as if sick in the daytime, and at
night grows fresh and bright. It opens its lovely flowers with a
very pleasant odor till morning, and then wilts and looks
wretched again.
THE FIRST SNOW-STORM.
Away off on a warm sunny island, little Harry Hall was born.
Flowers bloomed all the year round. The sun shone most of
the time, although now and then there were thunder-showers.
Many wonderful plants grew wild, while on the shore shells
and seaweed and queer little fishes were often to be found.
When Harry was six years old his parents took a journey to
New York.
It seemed very odd to the little boy to live in a place where
there were so many people, and such great houses. After a while
the weather grew cold, and he had to wear thick woollen clothing.
The house in which they lived was heated by a furnace; but one
day they had a fire of logs on the hearth. Harry enjoyed it very
much, and thought the bright blaze so pretty.
The sky was gray and cloudy one afternoon, and Harry had
been standing by the window watching the street cars. Suddenly
the air grew thick, and he could scarcely see the houses
opposite. Something white and feathery fell slowly down and
rested on the window ledge. Then it disappeared. But more and
more of the little flakes came, until there was quite a ridge
outside of the window.
Harry opened the sash gently, fearing it might fly away. He
was surprised when he touched it to find it so cold. He took
some up in his hand, but in a moment it was only a drop of water.
By that time the street and the men’s hats and coats were
quite white. Harry was puzzled to find a name for the beautiful
white substance, so he ran to his mamma and asked her about it.
She told him it was snow, and because the air was so warm
on the beautiful island where he was born they never had any.
The next morning he saw the little children of the neighborhood
playing in it; but before noon the sun was so bright and
warm the snow had all melted away.
When the second snow-storm came Harry’s papa brought home a
beautiful sleigh, and gave his little boy great pleasure by
drawing him up and down the street.
Harry soon learned to go out by himself, and made many friends;
especially of the little girls, as he was very generous with his
sleigh.
But he has never forgotten his surprise when he saw the first
snow-storm.
FRED’S STOLEN RIDE.
One day little Fred’s motber, who bad been sick a long time, told
him she was going out with a friend to take a drive. Fred wanted
to go, too, but his mother said there would not be room in the
buggy. Fred felt very cross and unhappy, and sat down on the
front steps, ready to cry as soon as he should see his mother go
away.
A buggy came to the gate, and the gentleman who was driving went
into the house. Fred ran out and climbed into the buggy to sit
there until his mother came out.
In looking around he saw there was a wide space under the seat,
in which a boy might hide. He crawled in, thinking he would take
a ride, and his mother would not know it.
He waited a long time, but no one came, and at last he grew tired
and fell asleep.
He was waked by feeling a big jolt, as a wheel of the buggy
struck a stone; but he kept still. After what seemed to him a
long time the buggy stopped and he heard some one taking the
horse from the shafts. He waited until all was quiet, and then
crawled out from his hiding-place.
He found it was almost dark, and everything about him was
strange. He was very much frightened, but he jumped down and went
to a farm-house close by. A woman he had never seen before came
to the door. When he told her where he lived she said he was
fifteen miles from home, and he found that he had taken his
stolen ride in the buggy of a man who had called to see his
father on business.
It was too late for Fred to go home that night, and he had to
stay at the farmer’s house until the next day. Then he was taken
home, and I am very sure he never tried to steal another ride.
A VALENTINE PARTY.
The children had a valentine party, the very nicest party,—they
all declared, that they had ever been to in their lives. All the
cousins in the neighborhood—and there were a lot of them—were
there.
What fun they had opening their valentines, which a “really”
postman brought with his gray uniform and his whistle and his
great leather pack.
“Dear me,” he said, pretending to groan, as he handed the
missives, “if you had a party every day here I think I should
be completey worn out!” But his eyes twinkled merrily.
Such shouts and exclamations as the valentines were opened and
read! And such fun looking at everybody else’s. Here are two,
Bessie’s and Fred’s:—
I’m for the boy
Who can stand on his head,
And who NEVER likes
To go to bed.
If there’s more than one of them,—
I’m for FRED!
I bring a kiss
From far away;
It’s travelled many
Miles to-day.
Take it, my dear,
And send one back
To your old, loving
Uncle Jack.
Don’t you think that the children OUGHT to have had a good time
if all received as dear little valentines as these?
THE VENTURESOME RAT.
He was a fine young rat and lived with his father and mother,
and brothers and sisters in a farm-cellar.
Now this young rat was not of a very quiet disposition. In fact
he was quite gay, and thought the life in the farm-cellar was
very dull and stupid and longed to see more of the world.
He sat near his father and mother one day
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