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THE PEARL BOX

Containing One Hundred Beautiful Stories for Young People.

BY A PASTOR.

PREFACE

In preparing this volume of stories for young readers, the writer has had in view their instruction, by presenting to them the duties of their station in a familiar and instructive story. Each story contains a moral, and teaches principles by which the youth should be governed in their private, social and public relations in life. In the perusal of these stories, we hope to accomplish our great object, of aiding young persons to pursue the peaceful and pleasant path of duty--to render them more useful in the world, and to grow wiser and happier in the path of life.

THE DYING BOY.

A little boy, by the name of Bertie, was taken very ill, and for sometime continued to grow weaker until he died. A few hours before his death he revived up, and his first request was, to be bathed in the river; but his mother persuaded him to be sponged only, as the river water would be too cold for his weak frame. After his mother had sponged him with water, he desired to be dressed; when his mother dressed him in his green coat and white collar, and seated him at the table with all his books and worldly treasures around him. As he sat there, one would have thought that he was about to commence a course of study; and yet in the marble paleness of his features, and in the listless and languid eye, there was evidence that life in the boy was like an expiring taper, flickering in the socket. He soon asked to go out in his little carriage. His grandfather, whom he very much loved, placed him in it, and carefully avoiding every stone, drew him to a spot commanding the entire landscape. The tide was up, and the sun was shining on the deep blue waters, and bathing the distant mountains and the green meadows in liquid gold. The gardens and orchards around were gay in the rich crimson blossoms of the apple tree; the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers, and the birds were singing beautifully, when little Bertie looked for the last time on the scenes of earth. He could not remain long, and was soon taken back to the little parlor, where he sat on the sofa, resting his elbows on the table. It was not long before the little boy died. But he was very happy. Among his last words were these, addressed to his little sister three years old: "Well, Emmie, very ill--me going to Jesus." "Oh, mamma, Emmie loves her Saviour."

THE BOY AND THE GOLD ROBIN.

THE WAY TO OVERCOME EVIL.

HARRIET AND HER SQUIRREL.

It was on a Sabbath eve, when at a friend's house, we were all sitting in the piazza, conversing about the efforts which were being made for the poor heathen, and the number of Testaments which were being sent to them.

"Father," said little Harriet, "do the little heathen children wish to learn to read the New Testament?"

"O yes, my child, many of them do," said the father. "But have they all got Testaments if they did know how to read?" "No, my love; few of them have ever heard about the Testament, about God, or about Jesus Christ." "Will half a dollar buy one?" said Harriet. "O yes, my child."

"Then," said Harriet, "may I sell anything I have, if I can get the money?" Her father told her she might.

Little Harriet wept sadly about it, and her father tried to console her, and told her not to feel so.

"Ah," said she, "you know, father, you told me that I might sell anything I had to buy a Testament for the heathen children, and I was going to sell my pretty squirrel to Mr. Smith, who said he would give me half a dollar for it; but now my Jenny is dead." The Father then put a silver dollar into Harriet's hand, and she dried her tears, rejoicing that Jenny's death would be the means of his little daughter having two or three Testaments instead of one.

THE REWARD.

A teacher in a Sabbath School promised to supply all the children in his class with a catechism, who had none.

One of the little girls went home from the school after the books were given out and said:--

"Mamma, if I had told a lie to-day, I would have got a catechism."

"I think that very strange, Eliza; for the Sabbath School is no place for lies, and if you could be so wicked, I know your teacher would not have rewarded you for it."

"Mother," said Eliza, "I tell nothing but the truth; and now I will explain it.

"You know I went to school this morning with the other girls. They told me on the way how their mother had bought each of them a new catechism on last market day, and they said, if I once saw how pretty their books were I would not look at my old one any more. Our teacher asked us all, when we went in, if we had any catechisms, and those who said they had not, received one from the teacher as a present. Jane, after all she told me, by the way, denied that she had any, and Lizzy did the same. But when he asked me, I told him I had one at home; but if I had said no, I would have got a new one."

Her mother then told her that she should be rewarded for not telling a lie by giving her a new book and a new Bible.

ANECDOTES.

A poor Arabian of the desert was one day asked, how he came to be assured that there was a God.

"In the same way," he replied, "that I am enabled to tell by a print impressed on the sand, whether it was a man or beast that passed that way."

THANKFULNESS.--Walking along Bishopgate street one morning, I saw two men standing as if amazed at something that had happened.

"Pray, gentlemen," said I, "what is the matter?"

One of them informed me that a genteelly dressed man had hastily come up to him, and tapping him on the shoulder, had said:

"Sir, did you ever thank God for your reason?"

"No," said I, "not particularly."

"Well," said he, "do it now, for I have lost mine;" when he marched off with great speed.

HONESTY.--An honest boy, whose sister was sick and the family in want, found a wallet containing fifty dollars. The temptation was great to use the money; but he resolved to find the owner. He did so; when the owner, learning the circumstances of the family, gave the fifty dollars for their comfort. He took the boy to live with him. That boy is a prosperous merchant in Ohio.

THE BOY AND HIS MARBLES.--One Sunday a lady called to her little boy, who was shooting marbles on the pavement, to come into the house.

"Don't you know you shouldn't be out there, my son? Go into the back yard, if you want to play marbles; it is Sunday."

"Yes, mother; but aint it Sunday in the back yard?"

THE BOY AND THE DEW DROPS.

A little boy who had been out early in the morning playing on the lawn before his father's house, while the dew drops lay on the grass, was soon after seen returning to the spot, and finding them all gone, he sat down to weep. His father asked him why he wept.

"Because," said he, "the beautiful dew drops are gone."

His father tried to soothe him, but he continued weeping. Just then a cloud passed ever, and on the cloud the beautiful rainbow had cast its arch.

"There, see, my son," said the father, "there are all your dew drops; the sun has taken them up only to set them forth in greater brightness in the sky."

"O father, dear father, why pass they away, The dew drops that sparkled at dawning of day, That glittered like stars in the light of the moon; Oh, why are the dew drops dissolving so soon? Does the sun in his wrath chase their brightness away, As if nothing that's lovely might live for a day? The moonlight is faded, the flowers still remain, But the dew drops have shrunk to their petals again."

"My child," said the father, "look up to the skies, Behold that bright rainbow, those beautiful dyes, There, there are the dew drops in glory reset, Mid the jewels of heaven, they are glittering yet. Oh, are we not taught by each beautiful ray To mourn not earth's fair things, though passing away; For though youth of its beauty and brightness be riven, All that withers on earth blooms more sweetly in heaven. Look up," said the father, "look up to the skies, Hope sits on the wings of those beautiful dyes."

LETTICE AND MYRA.

A SCENE IN LONDON.

My young readers may have heard about the poor people in London. The following story is a specimen of the hardships of many young girls in that famous city.

"Two young women occupied one small room of about ten feet by eight. They were left orphans, and were obliged to take care of themselves. Many of the articles of furniture left them had been disposed of to supply the calls of urgent want. In the room was an old four post bedstead, with curtains almost worn out, one mattress with two small pillows, a bolster that was almost flat, three old blankets and cotton sheets, of coarse description, three rush-bottom chairs, an old claw table, a chest of draws with a few battered band-boxes on the top of it, a miserable bit of carpet before the fire-place, a wooden box for coals, a little tin fender and an old poker. What there was, however, was kept clean, the floor and yellow paint was clean, and the washing tub which sat in one corner of the room.

"It was a bitter cold night, the wind blew and shook the window, when a young girl of about eighteen sat by the tallow candle, which burned in a tin candlestick, at 12 o'clock at night, finishing a piece of work with the needle which she was to return next morning. Her name was Lettice Arnold. She was naturally of a cheerful, hopeful temper, and though work and disappointment had faded the bright colors of hope, still hope buoyed up her spirits.

"Her sister Myra was delicate, and lay on the mattress on that night, tossing about with suffering, unable to rest. At last Lettice says to her:--

"'Poor Myra, can't you get to sleep?'

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