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George and his Dog, — Page 71.

FLOWER 3

F © IS 0 1 1 L 1 1 II

BY L, MARIA CHILD

Publiahed by C S Franois k Co , New York,

FLOWERS

CHILDREN

L. MARIA CHILD,

author of "letters from new york;" " philothea ]

"fact and fiction;" "biographies of

good wives ;" etc. etc.

NEW YORK: C. S. FRANCIS &CO.,252 BROADWAY BOSTON:

J.H. FRANCIS, 128 WASHINGTON STREET.

1854.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by

C. S. FRANCIS & CO.

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District

of New-York.

Jordan 1854*

PBINTED BT

MUNBOE & FRANCIS.

Boston

CONTENTS.

3Mrt £>

TO PARENTS

THE CHRIST-CHTLD AND THE POOR CHILDREN

THE NEW-YORK BOY'S SONG -

MANIKINS, OR LITTLE MEN

GEORGE AND HIS DOG ....

THE SQUIRREL AND HER LITTLE ONES

THE YOUNG ARTIST ....

HOW THE BIRDS MAKE THEIR NESTS -

THE PRESENT : A DRAMA

THE INDOLENT FAIRY

LITTLE BIRD! LITTLE BIRD! -

DEAF AND DUMB -

LOUISA PRESTON

LIFE IN THE OCEAN -

THE SISTERS' HYMN ....

«

7

9

49

53

70

73

79

103

126

130

139

141

145

169

188

tyaxt Kfi

GOOD LITTLE MARY -

THE SAUCY LITTLE SQUIRREL

THE VISIT ....

THE NEW-ENGLAND BOY'S SONG

THE IMPATIENT LITTLE GIRL

LITTLE RUNAWAYS

ROBINS ....

THE SPRING BIRDS -

LITTLE MARY IS CROSS TO-DAY

LITTLE LUCY AND HER LAMB

VI

CONTEXTS.

LITTLE FRANCIS ....

THE AUTUMN BIRD

HAPPY LITTLE GEORGE

THE DONKEY

THE SAILOR'S DOG ....

FATHER IS COMING -

ANNA AND HER KITTEN

THE HOUSE OF LITTLE TOM THUMB

THE UNLUCKY DAY -

THE HEN AND HER DUCKS

THE LITTLE GLUTTON

THE TWINS

THE PARROT .....

WHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST?

THE LITTLE WHITE LAMB AND THE LITTLE

BLACK LAMB

MAY-DAY

LITTLE JANE - •

MY SISTER MARY

DISCONTENTED DORA ....

LITTLE EMMA

THE YOUNG TRAVELLER GERTRUDE AND HER BTRDS OUR PLAY THINGS -

73 75

80 85 91 93 95 98 106 112 115 121 127

132 135 141 140 148 153 161 167 '177

lastt o*.

MAKING SOMETHING - 9

THE TULIPS AND THE LADIES' DELIGHT - 45

LINES TO ANNETTE 49

MUSICAL CHILDREN 52

A DREAM 94

WILLIAM BURTON, THE BOY WHO WOULD BE

A SAILOR 97

AUNT MARIA'S SWALLOWS .... 144

LARIBOO : SKETCHES OF LIFE IN THE DESERT 154

TO PARENTS.

Several years ago, I published a little pe- riodical called The Juvenile Miscellany It found favour in the eyes of parents and chil- dren; and since it has been out of print, I have had frequent requests to republish it. 1 did not think it advisable to do this. But I have concluded to publish a series of small books, under the title of Flowers for Children. About half of each of these volumes will con- sist of new articles written expressly for the occasion ; and the other half will be a selection of what seem to me the best of my own articles, formerly published in the Juvenile Miscellany. Upon reviewing the work for this purpose, I find that my maturer judg- ment rejects some inaccuracies, some moral inferences, and many imperfections of style.

Vlll DEDICATION.

I have therefore carefully re-written all the articles used in the present selection.

The story of the Christ- Child and the Poor Children was suggested by the account of the Redemption Institute at Hamburg, by Horace Mann, in his late admirable Report on Edu- cation. It would be well for all parents, teach- ers, and magistrates, to read that account, and receive deeply into their hearts the lesson it conveys.

L. M. C.

THIS BOOK

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO

LITTLE JOHN.

FLOWERS FOR CHILDREN.

3Mrt £.

THE CHRIST-CHILD

AND THE POOR CHILDREN

einrich Ludwig lived in a narrow dirty court in the city of Hamburgh, in Ger- many. The sun never came there, and no green tree was to be seen. It is a great evil to spend child- hood in such a dismal home ; but all over the world there are thousands of poor chil- dren, who never see the beautiful things which God made for all creatures to enjoy. Poor little Heinrich ! his father was a drunk- ard ; and sickness and trouble had so chang- ed his mother, that she was sometimes stupid and crazy. At such times, she would sit with her head leaning on her hands all the life-long day, and no one could get a word from her. Little Heinrich did not know

10 THE CHRIST-CHILD

what to think of his mother when she had these fits. When he first began to walk alone, he would tottle up to her, and pull her ragged gown, and stoop doWn to peep up in her face, and try all manner of baby ways to attract her attention. But she look- ed at hirn with strange eyes, for she did not know him ; and if he continued to pull at her gown, and call " Mammy, mammy," she would sometimes push him, so that he fell backward on the floor. The poor child had nothing to do all day, but to tumble about among bad boys in a dirty court, and dig holes in the mud. If he heard his fathers voice, he would run and hide himself; for he almost always came home drunk, and would beat the little boy, if he happened to be in the humour. It was a sad sight to see poor little Heinrich at nightfall, with his father drunk on the floor, and his mother^ staring stupidly into the air, without sense enough to know that her child was suffering. If he could find a cold potatoe, or a crust of bread, he would munch it like a hungry dog, take a sup of water from his little battered por- ringer, untie his ragged frock, as well as he could with such very small fingers, and creep into the little heap of rags that he called his bed.

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 11

But Heinrich had some blessings. He was a healthy little thing, with a loving and nappy disposition. His mother was very kind-hearted, and when she was not crazy, she treated her little boy with great affec- tion. Often would she lie down beside him when he went to his little bed, and hold his hand in hers, and wet his bright hair with her tears. Alas, for the fond mother! she often went hungry herself, that the little one might have a scanty supper. The thought often came over her, " What does my poor boy do when the fits are on me, when he has no one to care for him ? " This would make her weep bitterly. And so the little Hein rich seldom saw the sunshine or a smiling face. He heard cursing and swearing, but never the warbling of birds, or the ringing laughter of the innocent and happy. He learned of his mother the habit of sighing, and would look into her eyes with such a sad expression, that it made the heart ache. But when he was two years old, a little sister was born to him ; and this little sister be- came the blessing of his young life. She was very beautiful, with her golden hair, and her large blue eyes, so sad and gentle. After she came, like a sunbeam, into that dark and miserable home, the mother's health

12 THE CHRIST-CHILD

improved, and she had her fits more seldom. When they did come over her, it was heart- touching to see how that little brother per- formed a mother's part. He would wash his sister's face, and comb her silky hair with a fragment of wooden comb, and every but- ton and bright thing he could find, he would string together for her amusement. When she needed more help than he could give, he would summon an old woman in the neigh- bourhood, who, though feeble and tottering, never refused to come when little Heinrich took hold of her apron, with one of his plead- ing looks. It was a beautiful sight to see the lovely children asleep in each others' arms, on their little heap of rags. They seemed like two little angels that had lost their way, and accidentally fallen asleep in that dismal court. Even the drunken father felt the tears in his eyes when he gazed upon them, and sometimes for a week after did not taste a drop of intoxicating liquor.

It was indeed a blessing to Heinrich that he had little Gertrude to play with ; for he seldom wanted to be out of doors with the bad boys. They were rough and cruel, but Gertrude, with her sweet voice, her timid, gentle looks, and her loving ways, kept his heart tender.

i

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 13

Wolfgang Turkheim, grandson of the old woman who always came when little Hein- rich took hold of her apron, was a very rude, boisterous boy. He had not a bad heart, but he was bold and strong, and he had lived with people who taught him all man- ner of evil things. His father had been in prison several times for stealing. His mother died when he was four years old ; and his father had brought home a coarse, rough woman, who sold oysters. At night she came back with a bottle of rum, and they drank together till both of them were ready to fight with every body. When Wolfgang was very small, this woman used to encour- age him to quarrel with all the boys that came near him. "Come, my little game- cock," she would say, "go at him. Let father see how you can lick a boy twice as big as you are." Thus taught, Wolfgang thought it was brave and beautiful to fight ; and he became a perfect nuisance to the neighbourhood. Poor little Heinrich could not step out of doors to pick up sticks to build houses for Gertrude, without having Wolf- gang come out and knock them all out of his hands. Then he would say, " Pick them up again • if you don't, I'll kick you ; " and when the patient little fellow had picked them

14 THE CHRIST-CHILD

up, he would spill them all again, and burst into roars of laughter. He was two years older than Heinrich, and a great deal stouter and stronger. Heinrich was very much afraid of him, but once he was roused to fight. Little Gertrude was climbing up the door steps, with her small porringer of water in one hand, and holding up the rags of her robe with the other. She had much trouble to get along ; for the porringer was very full, and the tatters of her gown tangled her little naked feet. Wolfgang saw her, and tried to throw his leather ball so as to hit the por- ringer ; but instead of that, it hit her eye, and made her lose her balance and fall back- ward. She was not hurt very badly, but she cried out aloud with fright ; and Hein- rich flew at their troublesome neighbour like a wild cat. Wolfgang easily threw him down, and beat him and kicked him till he made the blood spout from his nose. He might have half killed him, if Heinrich's father had not happened to come along. He seized Wolfgang by the collar, and gave him a terrible thrashing. Thus did they live like wild beasts, in that dark, dirty court. No one had ever taught them that there was a better way to conquer enemies, than by fighting and scolding. Violence always

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 15

makes people worse than they otherwise would be. 'After that encounter, Wolfgang was more tormenting than ever ; and even the tender-hearted Heinrich began to grow more quarrelsome and fierce. When Wolf- gang came to the door, and snapped his fingers at him, and called, " Come out here, you poor little girl-boy ; come out and fight !" his heart was filled with rage and bitterness. He hated Wolfgang so badly, that he one night kicked his old cap all to pieces, and threw it out to the dogs. Thus these poor children were in the way to become thieves and murderers, and perhaps finally to die in prison or on the gallows, because they had nothing to encourage their good feelings, and everything to excite their bad passions. But our little Heinrich will be saved, and so will Wolfgang.

One day, when Heinrich was about seven years old, and Gertrude not quite five, they obtained leave to walk in the streets to see the show for Christmas, which was to be on the morrow. The shops were full of glitter- ing toys, the windows were hung with ever- greens, and many large boughs were carried through the streets, for the Christmas-tree of some rich man's children. Poor little Hein- rich looked with longing eyes, and wished

16 THE CHRIST-CHILD

that he and Gertrude could have a Christ- mas-tree. He gathered up, here and there, a green bough, which some servant had dropped on his way. " I will carry home these to mother," said he, " and she will make us a Christmas-tree." " And will the Christ- child bring us anything to hang on our tree V asked little Gertrude. As she spoke, she raised her large sad-looking eyes to her brother's face, with a very earnest expres- sion. A gentleman, who was passing, heard what she said, and was struck with her inno- cent countenance. "Here, my little one," said he, "the Christ-child sends thee this," and he placed a small coin in her hand. He inquired where they lived, and wrote it on a card.

Great was the joy of the children at re- ceiving the bit of money. They bought four apples and some nuts, and went home hap- pier than kings. " Here mother is a Christ- mas-tree," said Heinrich, displaying his evergreen boughs. " And see here ! see what the Christ-child sent us!" said little Gertrude, opening her ragged apron, and showing the apples and nuts. Tears came to the eyes of that poor mother ; for she had a kind heart, and loved her little ones, though she was too ill, and poor, and discouraged,

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 17

to do much for them. She took a penny from the shelf, and told Heinrich to go and buy a taper to hang in the tree. " Oh mo- ther, shall we have our tree lighted, just as they do in the big houses ?" exclaimed Ger- trude ; and the usually quiet little creature jumped about and sung.

Rich people in Germany arrange the Christ- mas-tree privately, and keep the room care- fully shut, while beautiful presents of all kinds are hung upon it, to take the children by sur- prise. It is brilliantly lighted with coloured lamps, and over it floats a little angel-im- age with shining wings, which they call the Christ-child. The very small children think this Christ-child brings them all the pretty presents. And truly

" There is an angel, who from Heaven comes, To bless and comfort all the little ones. Guess who it is, so good and mild, And gentle to each little child ?

I'll tell thee It came from God above,

And the spirit's name is Mother's Love."

Heinrich and Gertrude could not have their tree prepared in another room, and lighted up to surprise them suddenly with its splendour ; for they had but one room, and a little strip of shed, where they and two or three other families kept brush and

b 2

18 THE CHRIST-CHILD

chips. They had never seen the Christ- child, with glittering wings, that floated over the Christmas-trees of the rich ; but the angel called Mother's Love was with them that night, and right -happy were they arranging their Christmas-tree against a broken chair. The mother went into the shed to get a piece of wood, to make it stand upright, and the children followed her. When they came back, their apples and nuts were gone ! This was a great affliction to little ones who had so few joys, and they cried bitterly. " It is that ugly Wolfgang," said Heinrich ; " when I am big enough, how I will beat him ! " Poor little Heinrich ! there was no Christ- child in his heart when he said that. The large tears ran down Gertrude's cheeks ; and now and then she sobbed for their lost Christmas-tree. But she said nothing ; only when they lay down to sleep that night, she asked, in a very melancholy tone, " Mother, why don't the Christ-child bring things to poor children ?" Her mother kissed her, and answered not a word. Her heart was very full, for she too thought it was very hard that the Christ-child carried so much to the rich, and left her little ones without anything on their Christmas-tree. The children no-

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 19

ticed the looks of her eyes, and said to each other, " Mother's fits are coming on."

The next morning, Gertrude smiled sweet- ly, as she slept ; and when she awoke, she said joyfully, " Oh, Heinrich, I have been in a beautiful place ! You and I were walking in a garden. A child with bright wings was up in a tree, and he threw red apples at us, and said, ' Be good, Heinrich, be good, Ger- trude ; and see what the Christ-child will do for vou.' Did you see his bright wings, Hein- rich ?" "No, I did not," he replied. " That is strange," said little Gertrude ; " for you were with me, and he spoke to both of us." "It was a dream," said Heinrich. "What is a dream 1 " asked Gertrude. " It is somewhere where people go when they are asleep," answered Heinrich. His sister said she wished she could go there again, the red apples were so pretty. " I wish I could beat Wolfgang," said Heinrich.

It was true that Wolfgang had stolen their apples and nuts ; but after he had eaten them he felt very badly about it. He had some good feelings in his heart, though no- body had ever taught him anything but evil. When he saw little Gertrude sitting mourn- fully on the door-step, next morning, he want- ed to say, " I wish you a merry Christmas ;"

20 THE CHRIST-CHILD

but the words choked him, for he knew he had spoiled her Christmas. He whistled, and took up a stone and threw it at a dog ; and nobody knew that Wolfgang's heart was troubled with some kindly and repentant feelings. He went forth into the streets with his old hat pulled over his eyes, and his hands stuck in his pockets. An orange woman, jostled by the crowd, had her basket knock- ed off her head. Wolfgang darted among the scattered oranges, and under pretence of helping to pick them up, he filled his pockets and ran home. " Here, Gertrude," said he, " here are some oranges for you. 1 am sorry you lost all your nuts and apples." The little girl's eyes sparkled at sight of the golden fruit. "Did the Christ-child give them to you ?" she asked. Wolfgang felt a twinge at his heart ; but he only whistled, and told her to call her brother. Heinrich had kept out of sight, because he wanted to beat Wolfgang, and was afraid to do it. But when Gertrude showed the oranges, and said he was sorry they had lost their nuts and apples, he ran out with boyish eagerness to ask where the oranges came from. " An old woman spilled them in the street, and I picked them up and run," said Wolfgang. " Oh, then the Christ-child did not give them

AND THE PGufi CHILDREN. 21

to you." said little Gertrude, with a disap- pointed look. " Never mind the Christ- child," replied Wolfgang ; " the old woman had a bushel of oranges, and will never miss these." " Perhaps she is poor, and sells them for somebody else, and will have to pay for these," said Heinrich. "Oh, shut up, shut up," shouted Wolfgang, laughing : " Come, eat your oranges : the old woman will never miss them, I tell you. It is a hard case if we can't have some Christmas as well as other folks." He cut open an orange, as he spoke, and the rich juice flowed so tempt- ingly, that Heinrich and his sister began to eat. They had scarcely eaten half an orange, when some men came into the lane, and a woman, who was with them, cried out, " That 's the boy that stole my oranges !" Then the men roughly seized Wolfgang and Heinrich, and said, " Ah, you young thieves, come along with us to prison." Gertrude threw her arms about her brother, and cried out piteously, " Oh, don't take Heinrich away ! He didn't steal the oranges, indeed he didn't." A friendly voice spoke, and said, " What is the matter here, my little girl ?" Gertrude looked up, and through her tears, saw the gentleman who had given her the small coin the day before. She immediately ran to

22 THE CHRIST-CHILD

him, and exclaimed, earnestly, " Oh, good sir, they are going to take Heinrich to pri- son, and he didn't steal the oranges. He didn't steal the oranges." " Did you know they were stolen?" asked the gentleman. The children hung their heads, and did not answer. " My little one, how came you to eat the oranges, if you knew they were stolen ? " said the gentleman, placing his hand affectionately on Gertrude's head. The child looked up, with all the frankness of inno- cence, and answered, " Somebody stole our nuts and apples, that the Christ-.child sent us. We had nothing on our Christmas-tree ; and the oranges looked so good." The offi- cers let go their hold of Heinrich, and the orange- woman felt tears coming into her eyes. " That is the boy that stole my oran- ges," said she, pointing to Wolfgang ; " these other children would of course eat what he gave them." " No, it is not of course," re- plied the stranger gentleman, in a very kind tone ; " for good children will never 'eat what they know is stolen." " Umph ! " said the orange-woman, "whom have they to teach 'em to be good 1 " " Did you steal the oranges, my boy 1 " said the gentleman to Wolfgang. He did not answer, but stood with his hands in his pockets, looking very

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 23

sullen. " See him ! he looks like a born thief," exclaimed the orange- woman.

"Nobody is born a thief, my good woman," replied the stranger, with a smile : " To-day is Christmas : the day when Christ was born, who came to open all the prison doors. These children are very young, and I hope will steal no more. Let them go, and I will pay for your fruit." " But," said the offi- cers, " this is a bad-looking boy ; if we let him get off so easily, he will be doing farther mischief." " Try him this once," said the gentleman ; " it is Christmas-day, and he is very young." Thus entreated, the officers went away. Wolfgang stared at the stran- ger, who thus addressed them : " My chil- dren, this is a bad life you are leading. I live about five miles from the city, and I have with me fifty children, who have no kind parents to take care of them. They are very happy. Will you come and live with them?"

The children looked at each other, and didn't know what to say. When the ques- tion was again repeated, Wolfgang answer- ed, with an impudent air, " I know what you want. You want to make us work like dogs for you. I won't go along."

" No, my child," replied the stranger, " i

24 THE CHRIST-CHILD

do not want you to work like dogs for me. I want you to work like good industrious children, for yourselves ; that you may have good things to eat, and clean clothes to wear, and be able to do something for other poor children." Wolfgang played with the peb- bles in his pockets, and gave a low whistle, as much as to say he didn't believe a word of it. " Will you go 1 " said the gentleman to Heinrich : " Will you work in our garden next spring ? You and your sister shall have a little garden of your own." Gertrude's eyes brightened. "Oh, Heinrich," she ex- claimed, " it would be so pleasant to have a garden ! The beautiful Christ-child spoke to me in a garden." " We could not leave our mother," replied Heinrich. The little girl's expressive face saddened all at once, like a cloud going over a sunny field. " Oh, no," said she, " mother couldn't do without us." " Where is your mother?" inquired the stran- ger. " In bed," replied Heinrich. " How comes it that she is not up at this late hour ? " ." I think she has one of her fits," answered Heinrich ; " for she has not spoken to us this morning." " Does your mother drink too much ? " inquired the stranger, in a very low tone. " Oh, no, indeed," replied Heinrich, " my mother never drinks." " What do you

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 25

mean by saying she has one of her fits?" said the gentleman. "I don't know what fits are," replied the boy. " Old dame Turk- heim says mother has crazy fits."

The gentleman followed the children into the room, where stood two broken chairs, and a rickety table, with a battered porrin- ger, a mug without a handle, and a few po- tatoe skins. On the bed of rags lay a wo- man, whose fair pale countenance still gave indication of early beauty. Her e) es were open, but had a strange look, like one who walks in sleep. She took no notice of any- thing, and made no answer when spoken to. The stranger sighed deeply, as he looked round the miserable apartment. All, but the wretchedly poor, were rejoicing with Christ- mas presents, before a blazing fire. But these little hardy children were blue with the cold, and a few scattered boughs, some still tied to the broken chair, were all they had for Christmas. " Where is your father ?" said he. " I don't know, sir," replied Hein- rich : " he has not been home these two days." " Is he kind to you ?" " When he is sober,. he is very kind," said Heinrich. " If I take your mother along with me, would you like to go and have a good Christmas dinner? You shall all come back whenever mother

26 THE CHRIST-CHILD

wishes." " Oh, please let us go," said Ger- trude : " I saw the Christ-child in a garden, and he spoke to us just like yon."

A sleigh was soon brought to the door, and the unconscious mother and her chil- dren were lifted in, and covered warmly with buffalo skins. Wolfgang was again urged to go, but he answered very gruffly, that he had rather stay where he was.

Heinrich and Gertrude were delighted beyond measure. It was the first ride they ever had. The multitude of happy-looking children in the street, the merry bells, and their rapid motion through the clear pure air, made them very glad. At last they came to a place which the gentleman told them was his home. Two large houses stood near each other, and around them were several smaller ones, with many barns and outhouses. A wide circular space around the large houses was laid out in gar- den walks, with many arches and arbours. Snow covered the garden with a pure whit© robe, and lay on the evergreen trees like a mantle of swan's down. The principal gate of entrance rose in a pointed arch, sur mounted by a Cross, wreathed with a vine, from which some crimson leaves still flutter- ed. A group of boys were building a snow

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 27

man in one of the walks, and others were playing at bat and ball. From one of the houses came the sound of music, and of hap- py children's voices. The ride, the invigor- ating air, and the pleasant sounds, seemed to rouse the mother from her lethargy. She looked round bewildered, as if wondering where she was. The gentleman led them in, and a multitude of little folks flocked around them. " Here, my children," said he, " I have brought some new comrades, to help you play and work." They all began to jump and caper. A blind man sat by the fire-side, with a flute in his hand. He war- bled the first notes of a joyful tune, and the children, of their own accord, took hold of each others' hands, and formed a circle round the new comers, singing,

Welcome, children, welcome here, Where perfect love has cast out fear ! Here we work the live-long day, And that makes us enjoy our play. Welcome, little children dear, For the Christ-child brought you here.

There was a large evergreen tree in the middle of the table, with gay ribbons in the branches, and among the topmost boughs nestled the image of an angel-child, with large mild eyes, and shining wings. The

28 THE CHRIST-CHILD

children came running with little bags and baskets and books. " See," said they, " see what the Christ-child brought us last night ! Did he bring you anything ? " " He brought us some nuts and apples," said Heinrich, " but an ugly boy named Wolfgang stole them all. I wish I could beat him." Then spoke little Hans, the son of the blind flute-player : " Oh," said he, " that would only make Wolf- gang want to beat you. The Christ-child never beats anybody. If one strikes him, he gives him a kiss, and then he wants to strike no more." " Oh no," exclaimed many voices, "the Christ-child never beats any one. The Christ-child loves every one, and every one loves him." " But," said Hans, " these little friends have had no Christmas- tree, and we will give them some of our presents." Then all were eager to bring something. One brought a picture-book, and another a basket ; and a little chubby girl came with an apron full of red apples to fill the basket. Heinrich and Gertrude did not know what to make of all this. They never had such joy in their lives. Gertrude looked at the round red apples, and then at the angel -image in the tree ; and she said, " Why don't the Christ-child speak to me? and say 'Be good, Gertrude — be

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 29

good, Heinrich.' " " The Christ-child can't speak, can he, father ?" said the children, ad- dressing the gentleman, who had brought the poor little ones from their cold dismal home, into fire-warmth and gladness. " Yes, my children," he replied, " he speaks inside your hearts ; and he says ever, Be good ; love one another."

They had a happy time there, at the Father-House and the Mother-House, that merry Christmas day ! I wish all the poor children were brought from all the dark holes of the world into such a pleasant home. The wife of the gentleman had a beaming face and very friendly eyes. She took lit- tle Gertrude and Heinrich by the hand, and calling two or three of the older children to help her, she led them to the bathing rooms, and washed them, and combed their hair, and dresssed them in cheap, but very neat clothes. When little Gertrude came out of the bath, the water made her hair twist into curls, and the golden ringlets fell all round her innocent face. She looked first at her- self, and then at Heinrich in his new gar- ments, and then she clapped her little hands and laughed. When they went back to the large room, she stroked her clean apron with great satisfaction, and Heinrich kept

30 THE CHRIST-CHILD

thrusting out his feet to look at his new shoes. Never were two children so happy. The poor mother had some nourishing food prepared for her, and was persuaded to take a bath, and dress herself in clean garments. It was very affecting to see her gaze upon her children. She had never seen them so happy before, and therefore she* never knew how beautiful they were. Then came the remembrance pf their drunken father, and their own miserable dwelling ; and wThile her mouth wras smiling, her eyes were swim- ming with tears.

The children all sung a hymn together, before they went to rest ; and all kissed the two kind people, whom they called Father and Mother. As they parted off to their different rooms, sweet little voices were heard singing to each other, " Good night, good night." They all slept like dormice, until the bell woke them in the morning. Then they took a bath, and sang a hymn to- gether. After breakfast, every one went to work, as busy as bees. Even the smallest child had something to do. At the end of two hours, they all had a run in the air, and came back to work till dinner time. " We like to work, about as well as to play," said Hans ; " for you see our work is play. Each

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 31

ooy does what he can do best, and he likes lo do it. T like to weave baskets ; and that boy there likes to cut images in wood ; and that little girl knits famous caps. We choose some boy to carry these things to Hamburg to sell ; and each of us likes to see how much we can earn." " Who do you earn the money for?" asked Heinrich: " is it for yourself?" u Not for ourselves, but for each other," re- plied Hans : " but you see ^iat is for our- selves. If we can buy trees and grafts for our orchard, we all have more fruit ; if we can buy bushes and seeds for our garden, we all have more flowers ; if we can add to our library, we all have more pleasant books to read. We all give a portion of what we earn for our food and clothes, and a portion to the poor ; and the remainder each gives as he pleases. One gives his toward buying some more books for the library ; another toward maps for the school ; another to- ward building an arbour, or a lattice for grapes ; another to buy prints for our pic- ture-room. We have bought two flutes and a clarionet, and a bass viol ; and we hope we shall be able to buy a piano, some time or other. I put six cents a week into the piano treasury. Oh, it is a great deal plea- santer to work for a thing, than it is to have

32 THE CHRIST-CHILD

it bought for you. When I hear the flute it pleases me to think I helped to earn that pleasure for all the others."

" And this man that you call Father, what makes him bring poor children here?" ask- ed Heinrich. " Because he loves to do good and make everybody happy," answered Hans. " And if a boy won't work, does he flog him ? " " Oh no, indeed," said Hans ; " I have been here three years, and I never saw a whip, or heard a cross word spoken. Sometimes, children are lazy at first ; but where they see everybody else working they want to work too ; and they soon be- gin to feel uneasy, to be earning something toward the library, or the music-room, or the garden, or the play-ground."

" What does the Father do to stop the children from running away ? "

" He makes them so happy they don't want to run away," said Hans. " I have heard him say, that when he came here, there were iron bars on the windows, and heavy bolts on the gates ; but he took them all off. He says he don't want us held by any chains, but the chains of love. And we every one of us love Father and Mother so much, that we had rather cut off a finger, than do anything to grieve them, They

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 33

never scold at us, but if we do wrong, they seem very sad."

All this sounded very strange to poor Heinrich, who had seen so much fighting and quarrelling. It made him happy to hear his mother say that the good gentle- man would try to persuade his father to leave off drinking, and come and live there too. It was several months before the drunkard could be persuaded to come. He thought it was all a trick to get work out ot him for nothing. But he was very lonesome, and he had not the heart to take his children away from a place where they seemed so happy. When the summer came, he went out often to see his family ; and when he looked at Heinrich with his wheelbarrow, weeding the garden, and Gertrude feeding the chickens, he could not help feeling thank- ful that they were removed from his dirty, stifled room in the city. One day his beau- tiful little daughter leaned on his knee, and looked up in his face with those large eyes, so plaintive and loving in their expression, and said, " Dear father, do come and stay with us always. It is so pleasant living here." The unhappy father caught her in his arms, and bursting into tears, said, " I will never get drunk again ; ] will never " 3

34 THE CHRIST-CHILD

swear again ; I will be a good man, for your sake, my angel-child." He came next day to the Father-House, as it was called ; and he was so steady and industrious, that he soon became the head gardener. He had been so used to scolding and swearing, that he once or twice said what he ought not to have said. But little Gertrude blushed for him, and Heinrich said, " Please, father, don't speak so here. You know the good man don't like to hear us speak any but kind, and pleasant, and clean words." And he would answer, " I did wrong, my son ; but it was because I forgot." ■ Thus did the lit- tle children take their father by the hand, and lead him to the angels.

And where was Wolfgang all this time ? He was cursing, and swearing, and fighting. When the good Father went to Hamburgh, he several times tried to coax him to go back with him ; but he always answered gruffly that he would rather stay as he was. At last, he was detected in stealing, and sent to prison, where he was treated severely, and kept company with many boys worse than himself. He came out with a heart much harder than when he went in. When the good Hans, son of the blind flute-player, tried to persuade him to go to the Father-

AND THE POOR CHILDREN. 35

House, and be a better boy, he mocked at him, with his fingers on his nose, and then kicked him. But there was a soft place, in his heart, after all. Wolfgang once had a little twin sister, who died when she was about four years old. He loved that little sister more than he ever loved anything in the world. It chanced that Gertrude Lud- wig came to Hamburgh one day, with seve- ral other little girls, and the good Mother, to sell flowers. When Wolfgang saw her standing with a bouquet in her hand, singing " Come buy my flowers," his first thought was to snatch the bouquet, and pull it to pieces. But then he remembered his little sister, and he thought Gertrude looked like her ; and he could not do it. He lingered round them, as long as they staid. He thought of the prison he had lately left, tmd he wondered whether it was as pleasant at the Father-House, as Hans had told him. Gertrude had in her hands a garland which she had broken. She smiled at Wolfgang, and throwing him one end of the garland, in play, she said, "Come, Wolfgang, let me lead you to the Father-House. We will make you