Jean Nicolas Bouilly.

The juvenile scrap-book and youth's annual online

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The Holidays .

The Diamond .

What is Death .

The Foster Sisters .

The Lady-Bug and the Ant

Nursery Discipline .

The Hand-Post

The Gipsey

The Milkmaid .

Prince Chao Kang .


The Arm Chair

Emblems , .

The Louis D'or

Early Rising

Little Ears

The Mother Tried .

Jane Taylor.

, Jane E. Holmes.

Mrs. Oilman.


Mrs. Sigourney.

Jane Taylor



Mrs. S. C. Hall.





















AH! don't you remember 'tis almost December,

And soon will the holidays come?
Oh! 'twill be so funny, I've plenty of money,

I'll buy me a sword and a drum.

Thus said little Harry, unwilling to tarry,

Impatient to hurry from school ;
But we shall discover, this holiday-lover

Spoke both like a child and a fool.

For when he alighted, so highly delighted,

Away from his sums and his books,
Though playthings surrounded, and sweetmeats


Chagrin still appeared in his looks.


Though first they delighted, his toys were soon

And thrown away out of his sight ;
He spent every morning in stretching and yawning,

Yet went t.n bed wearv at nicrht.

MJMBUWTO1 Illuming 111 mtVMMUUJ

Yet went to bed weary at night.

He had not that treasure which really makes


(A secret discovered by few,)
You'll take it for granted, more playthings he

O, no it was something to do.

He found that employment created enjoyment,
And passed the time cheerful away ;

That study and reading, by far were exceeding
His cakes, and his toys, and his play.

To school now returning, to study and learning,

With pleasure did Harry apply ;
He felt no aversion to books, 'twas diversion,

And caused him to smile, not to sigh.


BRIGHTLY shone the sun softly warbled the
birds gently blew the breeze, and sweetly smiled
the flowers, on the morning which ushered in the
little Lady Matilda's ninth birth-day. She was
woke from her slumber by a little sunbeam softly
kissing her eyelid; when she lifted her head from
her pillow, and partly raising herself in bed, she
sat in silence for several minutes ; for her heart
was filled with happy thoughts. Presently she
arose, and having dressed, she began to arrange
the rooms in such order as she thought best suited
the day ; and, as she was expecting a few guests,
she wished to make the house look as nice as
possible. But of course you will wish to know
who the little Lady Matilda was.

Well, then, I must tell you that she was the
only child her parents had ; and they loved her
more than all their riches, which were exceedingly


great. They had retired from the crowded scenes
of the busy world, to a secluded retreat in a beau-
tiful village in the west of England. They were
very kind to the poor people of the village, and
were therefore much beloved by them ; the Lady
Matilda, especially, was the idol of the village
children. So, on the little lady's birth-day, all
these poor children, as well as their parents, were
invited to her papa's house, where an excellent
dinner was provided for them, and afterwards the
children were regaled with plum-cake and tea.
When the repast was finished, they went out to
play on the pleasant lawn behind the house, and
the little lady joined in their sports. Every child
was kind and agreeable, not an angry look was
seen, neither was a harsh word spoken.

Now, the little Matilda wore upon her neck a
most brilliant link of diamonds, which, while they
were at play, was by accident broken, and the
diamonds were scattered in all directions. Every
hand was now busied in collecting them, and they
were all given into the hands of the young lady,
excepting one, which was kept by a little boy, who
did not know its great value, but thought it so
bright and beautiful, that he wished to make it
his own.


The diamonds were carefully counted by Ma-
tilda's mamma, and one was found wanting, so
she bade the children go and search again ; they
went, and the guilty boy along with them, but no
diamond was to be found. Then the lady inquired
if any one of the children had kept one. So, when
this little boy heard the inquiry being made, he
went and hid himself in the most shady part of
the grove, lest any one should see him ; not re-
membering how the eye of the Almighty can
pierce the thickest gloom, and that even the night
is light about Him. But, while he sat crouching
and trembling with fear, he saw a small light
gleaming out from amongst the grass, and although
it was but the light of a glow-worm, he crept out
of its way, so fearful was he of being discovered.

When he thought the inquiry was ended, he
returned to the play-ground, where he found each
one full of joy and innocent mirth. But he was
sad and dejected ; and after a time, he went and
sat apart, on the trunk of an old tree, and he cov-
ered his face with his hands, to think of what he
should do.

At last, he thought he would restore the dia-
mond; so he drew it forth from his pocket, and
arose up from his seat ; but at that instant a moon-


beam shone upon it, and caused it to send forth so
many rays of rainbow-colored light, that his reso-
lution was immediately shaken, and again he slip-
ped the diamond into his pocket. Then his con-
science rebuked him, and bade him restore the
gem to its owner ; so he arose once again from
his seat, and he thought he would keep his hand
closed, lest if he saw the gem he might again be
tempted. But before he had proceeded many
yards, he opened his hand a very little, just to
peep at it ; but as it did not shine in the dark, he
opened his hand a little more, and unfortunately
the diamond fell to the ground, and it shone so
brightly amongst the grass that he snatched it up
hastily, and determined never to part with it.

At that moment he heard the voice of the little
lady, calling to the children to follow her. So
they, and the naughty boy also, followed her into
the hall, where a light repast was spread before
them; and when the repast was ended, the little
lady, at the signal of her father, arose, and going
round the table, she presented each child with a
shilling, which was received by them in thankful-
ness. But when she came to the guilty boy, he
knew, he felt assured, that he did not deserve it,
and he therefore said he would rather not take it.


On hearing this, the young lady was very unhappy,
for she thought, by the paleness of his cheek and
the heaviness of his eye, that he must be very ill.
So she asked her mamma to permit him to stay
there till the morning ; and having obtained per-
mission, she told the little boy that he should sleep
on a soft bed, in a pretty chamber, and have a
bright lamp to cheer him all the night. But,
alas, it was not a bed of down, a splendid apart-
ment, or a bright shining lamp, that could make
him happy; for the darkest cavern would have
been more acceptable to him at that time, for he
wished to be concealed from every eye.

So he told the kind little girl he would rather
go home to his mother ; for he was sick, and he
could not sleep unless he went home. Then she
sent him home to his mother, and with tearful eyes
she watched him depart ; and she hoped his mother
would treat him very kindly, for the innocent child
thought it was only kind treatment that he wanted.
But the kindlier the treatment he received, the
more unhappy he became, because he knew he
was undeserving of the smallest favor.

The next morning he looked at his treasure, but
he felt so exceedingly unhappy, that he resolved to
get rid of it in some way ; and after a little con-


sideration, he went and buried it in a sand-hill,
behind his mother's cottage. After he had done
this, he felt rather more satisfied, because it was
removed out of his sight; but still there was a
consciousness in his heart that he had done wrong,
and a fearful expectation that the truth would one
day be discovered.

Several weeks passed away, during which time
the boy went every day to see if there was any visi-
ble change in the spot where he had hidden the
diamond. One night there came a very heavy fall
of rain, and the next morning, when the boy went
to the sand-hill, there lay the diamond uncovered,
and shining like a beautiful star. Had it been
the eye of a serpent, it could not have gleamed
more fearfully upon him : his head grew dizzy, his
heart beat high against his bosom, and his whole
body trembled like a leaf before a storm ; for the
arrow of conscience pierced his soul, and told him
his fault could not be forever concealed.

At last he took up the diamond, and placing it
in his bosom, walked slowly towards his mother's
cottage. It was a bright, beaming day; the sky
was clear and serene ; not even the tiniest cloud
was seen thereon, for the smile of the sun seemed
so to extend across that wide, wide sky, as to leave

" there came trotting up to the spring
a snow-white lamb." p. 13.


no space for even the shadow of a cloud ; and there
was a little breeze that went singing to the flowers,
a little breeze that sang of nothing but joy. And
there was a small, beautiful bird, seated on the
branch of a green tree ; and its little throat swelled,
and it warbled such a song of rapture, as would
have filled almost any little child's heart with the
same rapturous delight. And there was pretty
spring of clear water came bubbling up out of the r
earth, and by its side were growing many small
and beautiful wild flowers, and they bowed down
their heads, as if listening to the warbling of that
sweet little spring of pearly water. And the boy
sat on a stone by the side of the spring, but none
of those blessed sights or sounds had the power to
make glad his heart, for there was no peace in his

And while he yet sat upon the stone, there came
trotting up to the spring a snow-white lamb. It
stooped its head and drank of the water, and tasted
of the sweet flowers, and then drank again of the
spring; and when it had done, it lifted its meek
face towards heaven.

Then the heart of the boy was touched, for he
fancied the lamb was thanking its Creator for the
blessings it enjoyed; and then did his sin appear
greater than ever.


He watched the lamb as it went slowly along the
valley, now staying in the bright sunshine to eat
of the tender herbage, now walking in the shadow
of the high green trees. Happy little lamb! how
did the boy wish that his heart was as innocent
and as pure as was thine !

Then the boy rose up from his seat, with a de-
termination in his mind, that, when the night
should come, he would take back the diamond to
its owner.

The sun was gone down, and the moon shone
clearly in the heavens, when the boy set out. He
walked slowly along the valley, and crossed the
field which led to the Lady Matilda's dwelling.
When he was come nigh to the house, he took out
the diamond, to look at it once more, ere he part-
ed with it forever; but the moment he beheld it,
his courage forsook him, and he could not give up
the beautiful but insignificant gem.

He walked to and fro many times, first resolving
to restore the diamond, then again determining to
keep it. At length he ascended a little hill, and
seating himself on the summit, he began to wipe
the large drops of perspiration from his brow, and
to wo^er why he had broken his resolution.

There he sat, a weak and sorrowful child; and
if he heard the rustling of a leaflet, or the sighing


of a breeze, it seemed like a reproach to his guilty
conscience. At length he arose, and returned
home; and sad were the thoughts of his heart.

Day after day passed, and the boy's cheek be-
came paler, and his spirit more dejected. His
mother, being fearful for his health, sent him to
pay a visit to his aunt, who dwelt some miles dis-
tant from their village. Now his aunt had one
little boy, about two years younger than his cousin;
and when this little boy saw the pale cheek and
downcast eyes of his cousin, he felt very unhappy.
One day the elder boy went out alone to converse
with his own naughty heart; the little boy, missing
him, went immediately in search of him. Long
did he seek, but it was not until two hours were
past that he found him, when, as he chanced to
peep through the branches of a shady tree, he saw
his cousin gazing on something he held in his hand ;
and he heard him say, in a sorrowful tone, "I shall
never be happy until the diamond is restored to its
owner !"

Then said the little boy, "Are you not happy,
my cousin?"

" No !" he replied, while a large tear-drop trem-
bled on his eye-lid.

" Then," said the little boy, taking hi? hand .
" let us pray to God to make you happy."


''God will not make me happy, yet,' : said the
boy, "No! not yet!"

"Why not yet?" asked his cousin.

" Oh !" he answered, " because I have stolen
stolen a diamond !" And as he spoke, he drew
the bright gem from his bosom, exclaiming, " Oh !
that I were near the deep sea, that I might bury
it beneath its waters !"

" Nay," said the little boy, "that would not do;
you must take back the gem to its owner, and con-
fess your fault ; and I will ask leave to go with you,
and then I shall see you made happy."

After some thought, the boy agreed to go ; so
the little fellow, without telling his mother the
reason, asked permission to accompany his cousin
home for a few days, and having obtained consent,
away they went together. On the evening of the
same day, they went to the lady's house, where,
with many tears, the boy confessed his fault, re-
stored the diamond, with a promise to steal no
more, and he was forgiven.

Then did these two little boys depart; and when
they came to a lonely spot, they kneeled down on
the green turf, and asked the forgiveness of God.
And ohj how much more happy did the elder one
feel whoD he arose ; for the load was removed from


his bosom the load under which he had bowed
so LOW; for that SMALL diamond had pressed on
his heart like a ponderous weight and yet he
had carried it in his bosom. And thus do we oft-
times carry in our bosoms some favorite sin, which
causes us a great deal of grief and pain ; and many
times do we resolve to give it up, and in our own
strength we strive to do so. But where is our
strength? Alas! we have none! We must never
expect to do any thing rightly, without FIRST ask-
ing the assistance and the blessing of God; nor to
find peace of mind, after having sinned, until we
have confessed our sin and sought His forgiveness.


" MOTHER, how still the baby lies!

I cannot hear his breath ;
I cannot see his laughing eyes

They tell me this is death.

My little work I thought to bring,

And sat down by his bed,
And pleasantly I tried to sing

They hushed me he is dead.

They say that he again will rise,

More beautiful than now ;
That God will bless him in the skies -

O, mother, tell me how!"

" Daughter, do you remember, dear,
The cold, dark thing you brought,

And laid upon the casement here,
A withered worm, you thought?


I told you that Almighty power
Could break that withered shell,

And show you, in a future hour,
Something would please you well.

Look at the chrysalis, my love,

An empty shell it lies ;
Now raise your wondering glance above,

To where yon insect flies !"

" O, yes, mamma ! how very gay

Its wings of starry gold !
And see ! it lightly flies away

Beyond my gentle hold.

O, mother, now I know full well,
If God that worm can change,

And draw it from this broken cell,
On golden wings to range,

How beautiful will brother be,
When God shall give HIM wings,

Above this dying world to flee,
And live with heavenly things!"


MR. COURTNEY, one of the gentlemen attached
to the French Embassy at the Court of Russia,
having been left a widower several years since,
had confided the education of his daughter Helena
to Mrs. Clermont, one of his relations. This lady
had a considerable estate near a village in Nor-
mandy, where Helena had been fostered by the
wife of a rich farmer, to whom Mr. Courtney had
rendered some important services. The name of
this worthy and excellent woman was Mary. She
had nursed Helena at the same time with her own
daughter Susan, and no one could ever distinguish
on which of the two children she bestowed the
most attention and tenderness. Helena and Susan
were reared by the same mother, received the same
caresses, and imbibed with the same milk the habit
of seeing and embracing each other, and of play-
ing together. By degrees they blended their
pleasures and their pains, their tastes, their incli-


nations, their propensities, and their very existence;
and when they were three years of age, they could
not keep for a moment asunder. Susan was the
first word that Helena uttered : Helena was the
first pronounced by Susan. If Helena received
any sweetmeats, any dainties, she saved them, and
ran to find Susan, that they might partake together.
If Susan had any cakes or fruit, she hastened to
share them with Helena. Mrs. Clermont, who
saw in the tender attachment of the two foster sis-
ters, the development of two excellent hearts, and
the omen of a good disposition in her little relation r
seconded their affectionate friendship, by affording
them frequent opportunities to tie its bonds more
closely, to augment its charms, and to turn its ef-
fects to advantage.

This interesting intimacy lasted until Helena
and Susan had reached their twelfth year, when
Mr, Courtney returned from Russia with the Am-
bassador. He hastened to Mrs. Clermont, to see
his daughter; and finding her at that important
period of life when education becomes absolutely
necessary, he resolved to take her with him to Paris,
in order to give her proper instructors, and render
her worthy of appearing in the circle of persons
of distinction, with whom he was acquainted.


Helena, who began to share the pride and am-
bition of her father, acceded to his proposal with
joy; and prepared to quit the castle where she had
been brought up, to leave the respectable Mrs.
Clermont, who had taken care of her childhood r
and to part with her good nurse Mary, and her
foster sister.

When she informed them of her expected de-
parture, Susan's sorrow was beyond expression.
" What ! you are going to leave us, my dear He-
lena !" she said, folding her hands, and her eyes
swimming in tears. " O, how unhappy I shall be !
Who will help me to eat my cakes and my cheese?
I shall be left to play alone ; I shall run over the
whole village without seeing you ; and, what will
be worse, 1 shall not be able to stir a step without
being reminded of my little sister. On one spot
we used to embrace each other ; on another we
learnt to read ; on the third, we found that nest of
doves which we delighted so much in rearing.
The two doves are in your room. Do you hear
them cooing ? They were brought up together, as
we have been ; they love each other, as we do ;
they are happy, as we were ; but they will always
be left together, whilst I shall no longer see my
Helena ! You are going to Paris, where you will


not often think of Susan, perhaps forget her.
O, Helena ! do not leave your poor sister !"

Helena could not help being moved with Susan's
sorrow. She embraced her tenderly, promised to
visit her soon, and stepped into the carriage with
her father and Mrs. Clermont, who went to pass
some time with them at Paris.

Helena easily got accustomed to the new life
she led. Growing coquettish and selfish, she found
the greatest pleasure in mingling in the society of
the fashionable young ladies of Paris, and appear-
ing at the different theatres. She soon forgot the
village where she had been brought up ; and had
it not been for Mrs. Clermont, who frequently
spoke of her castle, and the good people in its
neighborhood, neither Mary nor Susan's name
would ever have passed her lips. Dazzled by the
splendor of the great world, she only thought of
shining, and acquiring accomplishments to merit
distinction. Mr. Courtney, who had observed muchk
aptitude for the art of painting, in his daughter?*
provided her with the best masters, and in a short
time her progress in that art was really astonishing.

The weak state of Mrs. Clermont's health would
not long bear the excitement of the metropolis; she
therefore announced her intention to return to the


country, among the good inhabitants of her village.
She had acted like a mother to Helena, and Mr,
Courtney more deeply regretted her departure, as
he himself was obliged once more to leave his
daughter. As the latter was just entering her
thirteenth year, he resolved to place her in a

On the day fixed for Mrs. Clermont's departure,
Helena, who from a child had experienced her
tenderness, showed some regret at parting with
her ; but at the bottom of her heart she felt a se-
cret pleasure on being freed of a rigid superin-
tendent, who had often prevented her father allow-
ing her such or such a dress, or taking her to
many a brilliant, assembly. At the moment Mrs.
Clermont took leave of her, Helena could not re-
frain from tears ; she thanked her for her good-
ness, sent a kind embrace to her nurse Mary, and
to her sister an embroidered muslin handkerchief,
Dimmed with lace, which her father had given her
4br that purpose.

A short time after Mrs. Clermont's departure,
Mr. Courtney, whose important and unremitted
occupations did not allow him sufficient leisure to
attend to his daughter's education, placed her in
one of the most celebrated and best-conducted
boarding-schools in the vicinity of the metropolis^


Helena, whose propensity to pride and ostenta-
tion increased every day, was not long in becom-
ing acquainted with those boarders, who, spoiled
by their parents, indulged in great expenses, and
followed every caprice of fashion and vanity.

Six months had elapsed since Helena had left
the country. Susan, who continually lamented
her absence, induced her mother to go with her
to Paris, to embrace once more her foster sister.
They set out one morning in a little covered cart,
both dressed in their finest attire; arrived in the
metropolis without accident, and alighted at a re-
lation's, a green grocer in the principal market,
who received them with that cordial hospitality
which characterizes the good people of Paris.
Susan wanted to see Helena that very evening ;
and from the account which she gave of her, the
relation insisted upon going with them. They
provided themselves with different presents for the
young lady, got into a hackney-coach, and drove
to the boarding-school.

Helena was just walking in the garden, con-
versing with several of the boarders on the art of
pleasing and shining in public. Being informed
that she was wanted, she fancied it was some vis-
iter of consequence, or an invitation to some bril-


liant party. She quickly ran through the garden,
hastened to the parlor, where several of the board-
ers were assembled, and found herself all at once
in the arms of Susan, who fondly kissed and ca-
ressed her.

"How tall you are grown, my dear Helena!"
said her nurse. "I need not any longer stoop to
embrace you, I can do it at my ease now, as you
see." " To be sure," said the green grocer, " why
should you make any ceremony with the child you
have reared with your own milk." "But why do
you not kiss me ?" observed Susan, pressing her
hands, and bedewing them with her tears. " Do
you know it is six months since we saw each other.
Your doves are doing rarely well, and love each
other truly. Your little kid, that is grown a goat,
gives excellent cream cheese. I have brought you
some." "And I," said Mary, " have brought you
some of that nice cake I used to treat you with
a basket of our best white grapes, which I pre-
served all winter, in spite of the frost and a
nosegay of lilac buds, which I culled in the grove
that was planted on the fortunate day when I was

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Online LibraryJean Nicolas BouillyThe juvenile scrap-book and youth's annual → online text (page 1 of 8)