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Dedication Preface Remember me Honor thy Parents Uncharitable Judgment Boys become Men To the Portrait of Father Ballou Susan's Repentance and Appeal to her Elder Sister Little Emma The Old Sabbath Schoolroom The Hunter, and his Dog Jowler--A Fable Take Care of your Books My Niece Teachers' Library Scholars' Library Agatha Responsibility Duty of Parents A Scholar's Remembrance of the Pic-Nic of 1850 Rain Drops Obey the Rules The Ways of Providence To Alberta The Discontented Squirrel--A Fable School Street Society The Example of the Bee The Morning Walk True Satisfaction Female Education One Family Summer Thoughts--A Fable A Talk with the Children Uncle Jimmy The Child's Dream of Heaven The Influence of Sabbath Schools Memory Selfishness Trouble Revenge A Biographical Sketch The Sabbath School Boys Fear of Death Ill Temper Reading A Sabbath School Excursion Christ and Duty

OUR GIFT.

"REMEMBER ME."

"Remember me!" How swift the tide Of memory glideth o'er the past; Those sunny hours so quickly sped, Perchance a few with clouds o'ercast. But memory hath more lasting flowers, Which Time's rude hand can ne'er efface, The sweets we cull from friendship's bowers, The gems affection's altar grace.

"Remember me!" In youth's bright morn Those simple words so lightly spoken, Far into future years may reach, And wake a spell which ne'er is broken. A star to gleam in Memory's sky, A line on Memory's page to glow, A smile to offer at her shrine, Or tears which from her springs shall flow.

"Remember me!" As one by one The cherished ties of earth are torn, The magic spell which Memory weaves, Shall long in kindred hearts be worn. And when the last farewell is said, A solace to each heart shall be The memory of that love which spoke In parting tones, "Remember me!"

HONOR THY PARENTS.

"Honor thy father and thy mother."

"Well, Clara," said Mary, as they left the church, "shall we go now and take a walk before we go home? Look, there are William Johnson and George Field waiting to see which way we shall turn, in order to accompany us."

"Not this afternoon," answered Clara, "I think we had better go home."

They continued their way homeward until they reached the street where Clara lived, and were about to part, when Mary asked her companion at what time she would meet her the next morning to take a long walk, adding that William and George would go with them.

"I will ask mother," replied Clara, "and if she is willing, I will meet you at six o'clock."

"How is this," said Mary, "you never used to say you would ask your mother; besides, there can be no possible objection to our going to take a walk."

"True," rejoined Clara, "there can be no objection to our taking a walk; but we have never told our mothers that William and George are in the habit of going with us."

"Perhaps there is not, and yet, Mary, I have thought that there might be; therefore, I prefer to speak to my mother about it."

"And pray, Miss Clara, what has made you so conscientious all at once?"

"I will tell you, Mary. You recollect that on the last Sabbath, our pastor took for his text, the fifth commandment."

"Yes, I do."

"Well, something which he said, caused me to think more about these words than I ever did before; and the more I think of them, the more convinced I am, that we do not consider and reflect upon them so much as we ought to."

"Let me see," said Mary, "Honor thy father and thy mother;"--"Well, I am sure I do honor my father and my mother; I obey them when they give me a command, and I love them with all my heart. What more can I do?"

"So I reasoned before, but when I sat down alone in my chamber, a good many things came to my mind, to convince me that I was wrong."

"Well," added Mary, "let me have the benefit of your reflections."

"For the life of me," interrupted Mary, "I cannot think there can possibly be any harm in such a slight occurrence. However, say nothing to your mother to-night; but go with us to-morrow morning, and then you can mention it to her, and see what she says."

"I beg your pardon, Mary; but you said just now, you could not see what possible harm there could be in so slight an occurrence, and yet your request to put off mentioning this to my mother, shows that you have some misgivings on the subject."

Mary reflected for a moment. "Clara," said she, "if you have no objection, I will go home with you, and hear what your mother will say."

"I shall be delighted to have you," was the answer.

Mary Winthrop and Clara Spaulding had arrived at the ages of fourteen and fifteen years, a time of life which is peculiarly critical for girls. At no age do they more require the advice of a mother, and at no age are they less inclined to seek it. This would seem to be a natural disinclination, so prevalent is it. These were both good girls, but, as may be judged from the conversation we have just related, Clara was the more thoughtful, while Mary was very apt to act without much reflection. She possessed, however, this noble trait; she was always ready to acknowledge her error, when it was pointed out to her, and would endeavor to avoid repeating it.

Mrs. Spaulding had reached home when the girls entered. She was a woman of excellent sense, and a mother indeed to her children. Mary frankly told her all the conversation which had passed between Clara and herself, and then waited for her opinion.

"It makes me truly happy," said Mrs. S., "that you have come to me in this free and open manner; and I am very glad that my dear Clara has reflected so much upon the text. In itself, there is not much harm in taking a walk with William Johnson and George Field, and yet it is not proper for you to do so, without the knowledge and consent of your parents. William and George are not bad boys, and perhaps would be called by people generally, good ones; still, I have remarked a certain levity in their manner, which if only occasional, might be called good humor, but which, recurring as it does at all times and on all occasions, the Sabbath not excepted, makes me fear that their training at home is not what I should desire to have it. For this reason, Mary, I am not willing that Clara should be often in their company, nor do I think your mother would differ from me, should you ask her."

"I wonder," said Mary, "how Clara came to think of this slight circumstance of a walk, in connection with the commandment, 'Honor thy father and thy mother.'"

"I thought she had sufficiently explained that, herself," replied Mrs. Spaulding. "I wish both of you, and not only you, but all young persons, would think a good deal more on this subject. I remember when I was of your age, that many things occurred which I omitted to mention to my mother, but which it would have been much better for me, if I had told her. Sometimes these concerned my bodily health, and I am sure that if I had informed her of them at the time, I should now have a much better constitution than I possess. At other times, I neglected to ask her advice about what I thought were small matters; but the result proved that I should have been saved much trouble had I consulted her."

"I have said, this is a comprehensive command. To honor thy father and thy mother is not merely to show them outward respect. It embraces numberless duties, and among them this; the duty, while you are young, of doing nothing without their knowledge and consent, when you are in a situation to ask it.

"Be assured of one thing. If you are about to go anywhere, or do anything, and a doubt arises in your mind whether it is necessary to ask your mother's permission, be certain that you ought to ask it. The very doubt in your own mind is sufficient evidence of the fact.

"Get into the habit of talking with your mother upon every subject; your diversions, your studies, your health. Never conceal anything from her. Is she not your mother? Did she not give you being? Who then shall you look up to, if not to her?"

"O," interrupted Mary, "I have sometimes begun to talk to my mother about many things which I did not exactly understand, but somehow or other she was not willing to answer my questions."

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Spaulding, "you did not take a proper occasion, or she may have been very busy about something else. You ought always to endeavor to take a proper time for everything. At the same time," she continued, "I am sorry to say that there are some mothers who think children cannot be talked to, and reasoned with, till they are of age. This is a mistaken idea. Children have reasoning faculties, and the sooner we begin to converse with them accordingly, the sooner will those faculties be developed. With this view, we ought always to encourage them to give us their confidence on all occasions, gratify their curiosity, and allow them to talk upon every subject to us. If we do not act thus, they will soon abstain from that frank manner with which children ought always to lay open their whole hearts to their parents."

"O yes," cried Mary; "there is Emma Woodbury,--I do not believe she ever asks her mother's advice."

"No," said Clara, "and there is Jane Clifton's mother,--"

"Stop, my dears," interrupted Mrs. Spaulding, "these remarks of yours remind me that there is another subject, about which I should like to have a conversation with you; and if your mother, Mary, will give you permission to come home with Clara, after school to-morrow afternoon, I will tell you what it is."

"O yes, I know she will," replied Mary. "Indeed, yesterday, I should not have thought of asking her; but now, after what I have heard from your lips, I shall not do anything, or go anywhere, without asking her consent."

"I am glad," responded Mrs. Spaulding, "that you remember this lesson so well. Now, Mary, you had better go home; and may neither of you ever think otherwise than seriously, of the divine command, to 'honor thy father and thy mother;' and remember that few persons have ever come to harm when they grew up, who in their youth obeyed it."

UNCHARITABLE JUDGMENT.

"Cast out the beam from thine own eye, then shalt thou see clearly to cast the mote out of thy brother's eye."

Mary's mother cheerfully gave her leave to go home with Clara, the next day. She knew and highly esteemed Mrs. Spaulding, and was very glad that her daughter should be intimate with her family.

Mrs. Spaulding greeted the girls with a smile and a kind word; then said, "Mary, you began last evening to make a remark about Emma Woodbury. Will you tell me what you were going to say?"

"Certainly," replied Mary; "I was going to say that Emma scarcely ever asked the advice of her mother, or her consent to do anything or go anywhere; and I know a great many girls who act in the same way."

"And I," added Clara, "intended to say that Jane Clifton's mother was one of those whom you spoke of, as never conversing with children in a rational and reasoning manner."

"I guessed as much," said Mrs. Spaulding. "I told you," she continued, "there was another point upon which I wished to say a few words to you. Can you think what it is?"

"I cannot," said Mary. "Nor I either," said Clara; "certainly, I see no harm in the words we uttered."

"This blemish develops itself in a variety of ways. The pastor preaches an excellent sermon, wherein is contained some allusion to faults which ought to be corrected. If the people had treasured up in their hearts all his exhortations, they would not have forgotten one which he has often endeavored to impress upon their minds; I mean, the duty of self-communion, self-examination; and when he should have occasion to allude to faults, they would, one and all, ask themselves, 'Am I guilty of this wrong? Let me see; and if I am, let me correct it in future.' Instead of this, how frequently do we hear such expressions as these: 'The remarks in the sermon this morning applied to Mr. A or Mrs. B, very well, and it is to be hoped they will see it, and profit by it.' Now if such individuals, instead of trying to find others who are guilty of the wrong indicated, would only carefully look within themselves, ten chances to one they would find that they deserved the rebuke as much as any one else.

"Well," said Mary, "I must confess that I have done this often, and without being conscious of any wrong feelings; some how or other, I did not consider that the reproof belonged to me; or ever ask myself if I had committed the fault which was exposed."

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