A JOURNAL OF INSTRUCTION FOR THE FAMILY AND THE SCHOOL. 7th Week. MONDAY. Moral Lesson. COMPASSION. W. LOOK here, Ion, under the carnations, here are nearly twenty snails; and I have found sixty already. Look! they are of all sizes-very little mites-great fat fellows-do you see how the big one is poking out his horns? Ion. Yes; don't touch them, Willie! Now, I like to see them climb up the basketeach has a beautiful mantle like the one mamma taught us about a long while ago. W. Will you pull these out from under the carnations, Ion, while I go into the kitchen for some salt. Ion. What is the salt for? W. To kill them. I have read, that if you put salt on snails, or put them in hot salt water they are sure to die. Ion. Oh, Willie, come back, do! Don't talk like that! What do you want to kill such pretty creatures for? Let us make a house for them and feed them. W. Well, that would be foolish; for you would only breed more snails; and we ought to get rid of them, because they eat the strawberries. Here comes mamma, I will ask her.-Mamma, is it not right to get rid of the snails? M. Here is Lucy, ask her. Ion. But it is not right to kill them-you make them feel pain. W. Only a very little pain. Mamma said that they have not much power of motion, or much feeling. M. Still, Willie, it is right to feel sorry for a snail, if it only feels a little pain. You should feel compassion—even for a fly. How dreadful it was when that little moth was burned to death in the candle the other night! W. Yes, that was dreadful. M. And if you will sprinkle a little salt on those snails, Willie, you will see them spit, and turn green, and show signs of death-would you like to see them do that? W. No, I think it would be better to take them out in the fields and let them live on the hedges; there they would get simple diet, without spoiling our strawberries. L. Only, if every one were to do so, perhaps there would be too many snails; just as there would be too many blackbeetles in the kitchen, if we did not kill them. M. We will not talk about that question now; if it be our duty to kill the snails, let us do so in the quickest way. Louise was delighted at this sight, and the next day she threw out more crumbs. The birds behaved very well while she threw them: they arranged themselves along the borders of the tiles, and looked down upon her until she went indoors, then down they came again. Thus, for several days she thought of the sufferings of the birds, and fed them. One morning after Louise had been much delighted with watching her pets, she went out for a walk, and met a boy called ROB, the son of a shoemaker; he was carrying in his hand a cage containing nearly thirty sparrows. He walked and ran briskly, swinging the cage here and there, and knocking the heads of the birds against the bars. A little girl named Louise, sat at the window of her father's house watching the snow-flakes as they came quivering down to the ground. She saw that in the yard there were a great many birds; some on the trees, and some on the ground, but that none could get anything to eat. They scratched away "Oh, stop, Rob!" said Louise, the snow with their claws, but "don't do that! you'll kill those there were no crumbs under-poor birds. What are you neath; they scratched in the going to do with them?" heaps of rubbish, but found nothing; and one bold bird, a robin, came near to the house, and struck its beak against the window panes, as much as "Give me something to say, to eat." The little Louise felt very sorry when she saw the birds in the snow; so she went to the door of the yard and threw some crumbs out. She then went to the window again and peeped out; she saw first one, then two, then three birds fly down and fly up again quickly, each with a crumb in its mouth; soon she saw a great crowd who were very busy, until all the crumbs were gone. Going to sell 'em, if I can. If I don't I shall give them to our tomcat; he will eat them up, all alive." "Tell me what you would sell them for," said Louise, eagerly. "Farthing a piece, Miss," said Rob. "Thirty farthings!" said Louise; "that is seven-pencehalfpenny. I have a little money, and if you will bring them gently to my house, I will buy them." When Louise had bought them, her father was much pleased with what she had done. He had noticed her before when feeding the birds every day. He said to her, "Serve him right," said his "There is an empty room up-mother, "he was trying to climb a stairs; you may keep your sparrows in there, so that they may have more space to fly in. The report that Louise had bought Rob's birds, quickly reached the other boys of the neighbourhood, and soon great crowd was seen standing at her father's door. The boys held up their cages, one higher than another, all asking her to buy. Louise's father saw that she had not money enough to buy so many birds, but he said to her, "I will buy these for you." Louise was now more delighted than ever; she had a room full of favourites, and they ate so much grain and other food that she had not enough money to buy what they required. Her father now helped her once more. My dear child," he said to her," your compassion for those little creatures is like the compassion that GOD feels for us. Is it not pleasant to try to imitate God? I will give you whatever you want for their support." Thus Louise was able to feed her two families-the birds in the yard, and those in her chamber. When the spring came Louise met Rob again. His mother was pulling him along by the collar of his coat, while he was trying to limp after her, and was crying out with pain. "Come along, sir! said his mother, "it serves you right!" "What is the matter?" said Louise, running to his mother. "Sprained my ankle," grumbled Rob. over the squire's palings to get at a blackbird's nest; he was going to rob it of all its young ones, and now he's got a trouble as bad as he was going to bring upon them." Louise did not find fault with Rob then; she only pitied him for the pain he felt, and she brought him something in the evening to do him good. Rob could not walk for several days, but during that time Louise came regularly to see him, and showed very great sorrow for him. Rob thus became very fond of Louise, and was inclined to attend to what she said to him. So the first time he was able to go out for a walk, Louise went with him. "How did you like the pain of the sprain in your foot, Rob?" said Louise. Rob. "Not at all; 'twas very unpleasant!" Louise. "And how would you like it if I were to come on purpose and make you sprain your foot?" Rob. "I should think, Miss, as you was very hard-hearted. I should say you was a bad one." Louise. "Then Rob, you were going to do a worse thing than that when you intended to take the young blackbirds out of their nest. Mind, Rob, that you never do like to do such things. You should always be sorry to see any dumb creature in trouble." Rob. "Do you always feel sorry, Miss ?" Louise. "Yes; if you will come with me to my house I will show you how much I care for the birds." On their way to Louise's home, she told Rob what she had been doing in the winter; and added that the birds which she used to feed in the yard had gone away, because it was spring time. When they reached the birds' room, Louise showed Rob more than one hundred. "How happy they seem, Miss!" said Rob. "Yes," said Louise, "I told you how very glad I have been to give them food: they are dearer to me now than anything I have. I would not sell them for a great purse full of money; and now I am going to open the window and let them all fly!" "Oh, don't do that Miss!" said Rob, "they won't come back!" "I know that," said Louise: "yet I shall set them free. Don't you see how they keep flying against the windowpanes, and knocking their poor heads? Papa says they are in great trouble, because they want to go on the trees and build their nests. Poor things! I can't bear to part with them, but papa says that I ought to have compassion on them and let them fly." "But then you will feel trouble, Miss; you ought to have 'passion,' or whatever you call it, on yourself, too." "That is what I told papa; but, he said that if my compassion for the birds is not 66 stronger than my love for myself, it is not good; so I mean, Rob, to let them go, though they have cost me all the money I had. 'There, then!" added Louise, opening the window, "Go, poor things, and be happy!" and very quickly all her dear birds flew away. It is hardly worth while to tell you what Rob said when he saw this action. Louise made him think about it, and she easily brought him to care for the birds; and for other animals. He learned to care for worms, for snails, and even for earwigs, caterpillars, beetles, spiders, and flies; indeed he learned to feel sorry for every living thing that he found in trouble. Rob is now a farmer, and he takes perhaps twice as much care as he would have done of his horses, cows, sheep, and pigs, if Louise had not taught him. To this day, when he has to drive his horse up a steep hill he gets out of his cart, and walks beside him. The other day when it was very hot, one of Rob's friends who was driving a cart up-hill overtook him. "Rob, you foolish fellow," he said, "why don't you jump up into your cart ?-how you steam with perspiration!" "Ah! and look at my horse," said Rob, "see how he steams too! I like to take a share of his troubles on myself-I like to have compassion on him." This time Rob had learned the word in full. THE LINNEAN SYSTEM. W. I am in first, papa; I raced Lucy and Ion all the way down the path. Here's Ion! Look, Ion, at this flower which papa has in his hand. Ion. It is a snow-drop. Papa found it a week or two ago in a shady place behind the lilac trees. It is very late. P. Yes. I have been keeping it in water ever since, that you may count its stamens. L. It has six stamens, papa, so it belongs to the sixth class of flowers, HEXANDRIA. P. And here is a Daffodil; here, too, is a beautiful little flower, a Lily of the Valley. Will you run and see if any of the lilies are in flower yet. W. Yes; here is a white lily, and here is an orange lily. P. See how many stamens each flower has. Ion. The white lily has six stamens. W. And the orange lily has six. P. And how many has this daffodil? L. This has six stamens, too; and so has the little lily of the valley. Ion. I am the counter of the pistils. The lilies have only one pistil each; they are of the order Monogynia. Most of these flowers have only one pistil. P. True; but there are other flowers in the order, such as the common dock, the sorrel, the water plantain, the rice plant, and the great American aloe; some of them have two, others three, and others many pistils. Ion. So there are four orders. The Class HEXANDRIA contains the orders Monogynia, Digynia, Trigynia, and Polygynia. Class 7. HEPTANDRIA. P. I can only find you one flower belonging to the seventh class, but there are many others in foreign countries. W. Is this the flower, papa, this horse-chestnut blossom? P. Yes. See what an elegantshaped cluster of flowers this is: it is the shape of a pyramid. Ion. It has seven stamens, papa, and one pistil-so it is of the seventh class and first order. P. There are others with two, four, and seven pistils. Thus we have Class HEPTANDRIA Containing the orders Monogynia, Digynia, Tetragynia, and Heptagynia. Class 8. OCTANDRIA. L. Have you any flowers of the eighth class, papa? P. Only one, this piece of heath. Examine its pretty blossoms, and you will see that it has eight stamens. Ion. Are there no more, papa? |