The Pearl Box Containing One Hundred Beautiful Stories for Young People, by a Pastor online

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be with them, and I hope soon to meet her."

Julia bid the lady good bye and went towards her home. As she walked
slowly along, she thought to herself, "Elise with the angels!" and she
dwelt on the theme till her mother, seeing her rather different in her
conduct, asked her the cause, when she replied, "Oh, mother! I want to
dwell with the angels."


"And was there never a portrait of your beautiful child," said Anne
Jones to a lady whom she met at the grave where her child had been lain
a few weeks.

"Oh, yes! but I may never have it," replied the woman, as she stood
weeping at the grave.

Anna did not understand the mother's tears, but in a few moments she
became calm, and continued to explain.

"Not many weeks before my child's illness, as we were walking together
in the city, an artist observed my daughter and followed us to our
humble home. He praised her countenance to me, and said her beauty was
rare. In all his life he had never seen face to compare with it, nor an
eye so full of soul - and begged to have me consent to his drawing her
portrait. After many urgent entreaties, my dear child consented. For
several mornings I went with Flora to the artist's room, though I could
ill afford the time, for our daily bread was to be earned. When he was
finishing the picture, Flora went alone. One day she returned, and
flinging into my lap her little green purse, she said: - 'The picture
does not need me any more, and I am very glad, for my head aches badly.
They say the portrait is very like me, mother.'

"I resolved to go and see it the day following, but when the time came
that I first looked upon it, my dear child began to fade in my arms,
until she died. And here she is buried. Since then I go to the artist's
room to see her portrait, and there, full of life and beauty, she stands
before me, and I have permission to see it every day.

"But I am about to leave this country for our native land. My aged
father has long wished to return to his own country, and we shall soon
sail with our friends for Italy. I must leave the dear child here. But
if I can purchase the picture of the artist, I shall be happy. We are
poor; but by the sale of some little articles, we have raised money
enough to buy the picture, at the price which the artist demands for a
similar picture.

"When I went to buy it, you know not how I felt, when the artist,
notwithstanding all my pleadings, denied my request. His apology was,
that he had taken it for some purpose of his own - some great exhibition
of paintings - what, I could not fully comprehend. He would not sell it.
Day after day I have been to him, but in vain. And now the time of our
departure will soon come, and duty demands that I must go with my
father, and I must leave my dear Flora, and portrait too."

She then laid her face upon the grave and wept. Anna's eyes were filled
with tears, and for some moments she did not speak. At last she
thought - "I know the artist." And then touching the mother, who was
almost insensible, she said, "Madam, it may be that I can do something
for you - describe to me the picture. I think I must have seen it at this
same artist's room."

The mother then gave the description, and after Anna had gathered from
the mother all needful information, her name, and residence, and time
of sailing, then giving her own address, and speaking to her words of
consolation and hope, she arose and left the stranger at the grave of
her child. The next story will tell you how the picture was obtained.


Anna started for her home, and when she had arrived, she slowly ascended
to her room, flung herself upon her couch, and buried her face in its

"Edgar," (for that was the artist's name, and Anna knew him,) "Edgar is
cold hearted." She did not meet the family at tea that evening, but when
her mother came to inquire if she was ill, she related all the sad story
of the childless mother, and asked what could be done. The next
morning, Anna and her father went to see the artist. He was not in
attendance, but one to whom they were well known brought forward the
picture, at Anna's request, and which she had before seen. While they
were looking at it, the artist came in.

"Pardon me, sir," said Anna's father, "for examining your beautiful
picture during your absence, but my daughter has a very earnest desire
to possess it. Is it for sale?"

Edgar replied, "I have painted this picture for the coming artist's
exhibition, and, therefore, I have made no design as to its disposal,
but it would be an honor to me to have you and Miss Anna its purchasers.
I would wish, however, previously to its being given up, that it might
be exhibited, according to my intention, at the rooms, which open on
Monday next."

Mr. H. hesitated - the vessel, which was to carry away the sorrowing
mother, was to sail in a little more than two weeks - they must have the
picture at that time, if ever; and he said to the artist, "I am aware
that this is a beautiful painting, and I will pay you your price, but I
must be allowed to take it at the expiration of ten days, if at all."

Edgar reflected a few moments, and being well aware that, in the mansion
of Mr. Hastings, his elegant picture would be seen by persons of the
most accomplished manners, and of excellent taste, concluded to sell the
picture. The bargain was made and Anna and her father departed, leaving
the artist somewhat elated at the thought of having Mr. H. the owner of
his picture.

That night Edgar dreamed that Flora, who had been buried a few weeks,
and of whose image his picture was the exact resemblance, stood before
him, pleading him to have pity on her lonely mother - he dreamed her hand
clasped his, and he awoke trembling.

He raised himself upon his elbow, and pressed to his lips some flowers
which were left on his table, and then rejoiced that the ocean would
soon lie between him and the wearisome old woman who had so long annoyed
him about the picture.

The Monday morning came, and with it the portrait of Flora, which had
been admired at the exhibition rooms the previous week. A simple frame
had been prepared for it, and for a few moments Anna gazed on the
picture, and with a love for the buried stranger, looked for the last
time into the deep dark eyes which beamed on the canvas.

The ship Viola, bound for the port of Naples, lay at the wharf, the
passengers were all hurrying on board, the flags were flying, and all
wore the joyous aspect of a vessel outward bound. A carriage drawn by a
pair of horses came down to the vessel. Mr. Hastings and Anna alighted,
and were followed by a servant, who took the safely cased portrait in
his arms, and accompanied them on board the ship. They soon met the
mother of Flora, and Anna took the picture and presented it to her, and
promised to care for the rose buds which bloomed at Flora's grave. Mr. H
received from the gallant captain a promise to take special charge of
the Italian widow, and her aged father, and to care for the valued
picture of Flora. Thanks and farewells closed the scene, when Anna, with
her father, returned home. There she found a note from Edgar, the
artist, requesting permission to call on Anna that evening. She wrote a
reply, saying that a previous engagement would forbid her complying with
his request, at the same time enclosing a check for $200, saying, "My
father requests me to forward this check to you, in payment for the
portrait of _Flora Revere_"


We've no abiding city here:
This may distress the worldling's mind,
But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

We've no abiding city here;
We seek a city out of sight,
Zion its name: the Lord is there:
It shines with everlasting light.

Hush, my soul, nor dare repine;
The time my God appoints is best;
While here to do his will be mine,
And his to fix my time of rest.



Mrs. Savage was the eldest sister of Matthew Henry. When she was a child
she had a great many advantages for the improvement of her mind. When
only seven years of age, she could translate the Hebrew language, and
when ten years old, she would write out her father's sermons. She
possessed a very amiable disposition, and was very kind and benevolent
to all who needed the comforts of life. She was a Christian, and when
she became a mother she began the work of educating her children
herself. She had a large family of nine children, and as she had
treasured up in her memory many hymns and verses which she had learned
when a child, she was able to teach the same to her children. She was so
kind and affectionate that every body loved her. Her children took much
pleasure in hearing their mother repeat to them the hymns and texts of
Scripture which she had learned.

Some children are very careless, and indifferent to their parents'
advice; such ones will regret it in their riper years. But Mrs. Savage's
little boys and girls loved their mother, and were very obedient to her
commands. When evening came, before they retired to bed she would call
her little children around her (as you see in the picture,) and they
would kneel down and say their evening prayer. A pleasant sight, indeed,
to see our dear children remembering their Creator in the days of their
youth. Mrs. S. was "useful, beloved, meek, humble, and charitable." She
lived a happy, cheerful life; she was an ornament to her Christian
profession, a "good mother." She died suddenly at the good old age of


"Will you please teach me my verse, mamma, and then kiss me and bid me
good night," said little Roger, as he opened the door and peeped into
the chamber of his sick mother. "I am very sleepy, but no one has heard
me say my prayers." Mrs. L. was very ill, and her friends believed her
to be dying. She sat propped up with pillows and struggling for breath,
her eyes were growing dim, and her strength was failing very fast. She
was a widow, and little Roger was her only darling child. He had been in
the habit of coming into her room every night, and sitting in her lap,
or kneeling by her side, while she repeated some Scripture passages to
him or related a story of wise and good people. She always loved to
hear Roger's verse and prayer.

"Hush! hush!" said the lady who was watching beside the couch. "Your
dear mamma is too ill to hear you to night." And as she said this, she
came forward and laid her hand gently upon his arm as if she would lead
him from the room. "I cannot go to bed to night," said the little boy,
"without saying my prayers - I cannot."

Roger's dying mother heard his voice, and his sobs, and although she had
been nearly insensible to everything around her, yet she requested the
attendant lady to bring the boy and lay him near her side. Her request
was granted, and the child's rosy cheek nestled in the bosom of his
dying mother.

"Now you may repeat this verse after me," said his mother, "and never
forget it: 'When my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me
up.'" The child repeated it three times - then he kissed the pale cheek
of his mother, and went quietly to his little couch.

The next morning he sought as usual for his mother, but she was now cold
and motionless. She died soon after little Roger retired to his bed.
That was her last lesson to her darling boy - he did not forget it. He
has grown to be a man and occupies a high post of honor in
Massachusetts. I never can look upon him without thinking about the
faith so beautifully exhibited by his dying mother. It was a good


A teacher once asked a child, "If you had a golden crown, what would you
do with it?" The child replied, "I would give it to my father to keep
till I was a man." He asked another. "I would buy a coach and horses
with it," was the reply. He asked a third. "Oh," said the little girl to
whom he spoke, "I would do with it the same as the people in heaven do
with their crowns. I would cast it at the Saviour's feet."


One Sabbath evening a teacher was walking up and down in the porch
before his house, in one of the South Sea Islands. The sun was setting
behind the waves of the ocean, and the labors of the day were over. In
that cool, quiet hour, the teacher was in prayer, asking a blessing on
his people, his scholars, and himself. As he heard the leaves of the
Mimosa tree rustling, he thought the breeze was springing up - and
continued his walk. Again he heard the leaves rattle, and he felt sure
that it could not be the wind. So he pushed aside the long leafy
branches of the trees, and passed beneath. And what did he find there?
Three little boys. Two were fast asleep in each other's arms, but the
third was awake.

"What are you doing there, my children?" asked the teacher. "We have
come to sleep here," said the boy. "And why do you sleep here; have you
no home?" "Oh, yes," said the lad, "but if we sleep here, we are sure to
be ready when the school bell rings in the morning." "And do your
parents know about it?" "Mine do," said the lad, "but these little boys
have no parents; they are orphans."

You know the nights in the South Sea Islands are not cold and damp like
ours, but as the teacher thought a heavy rain would fall in the night,
he roused the orphans, and led the three little boys into the large
porch of the house, where they might rest in safety. He was happy to
find that they were some of his scholars, and that they loved their
school. What would these little Islanders think if they could look from
their distant homes into some of our schools and see how many late
comers there are!


Two boys were one day on their way from school, and as they were passing
a cornfield, in which there were some plum trees, full of nice ripe
fruit, Henry said to Thomas, "Let us jump over and get some plums.
Nobody will see us, and we can scud along through the corn and come out
on the other side."

Thomas said, "I cannot. It is wrong to do so. I would rather not have
the plums, than to steal them, and I think I will run along home."

"You are a coward," said Henry, "I always knew you were a coward, and if
you don't want any plums you may go without them, but I shall have some
very quick."

Just as Henry was climbing the fence, the owner of the field rose up
from the other side of the wall, and Henry jumped back, and ran away.
Thomas had no reason to be afraid, so he stood still, and the owner of
the field, who had heard the conversation between the boys, told him
that he was very glad to see that he was not willing to be a thief. He
then told Thomas that he might step over the fence and help himself to
as many plums as he wished. The boy was pleased with the invitation, and
soon filled his pockets with plums which he could call his own. Honesty
will always get its reward.



George had a large and noble dog.
With hair as soft as silk;
A few black spots upon his back,
The rest as white as milk.

And many a happy hour they had,
In dull or shining weather;
For, in the house, or in the fields,
They always were together.

The faithful creature knew full well
When Master wished to ride;
And he would kneel down on the grass,
While Georgy climbed his side

They both were playing in the field.
When all at once they saw
A little squirrel on a stump,
With an acorn in his paw

The dog still looked with eager eye,
And George could plainly see,
It was as much as he could do
To let the squirrel be.

The timid creature would have feared
The dog so bold and strong,
But he seemed to know the little boy
Would let him do no wrong.

He felt a spirit of pure love
Around the gentle boy,
As if good angels, hovering there,
Watched over him in joy.

And true it is that angels oft
Good little George have led;
They're with him in his happy play.
They guard his little bed;

They keep his heart so kind and true,
They make his eye so mild,
For dearly do the angels love,
A gentle little child.


I will tell you an affecting story about a young lad by the name of
Emerson Terry, who lived in Hartford, Ct. He was very kind to the poor,
and could never see the suffering of his fellow beings without making an
effort for their relief. Here is one instance of his kindness and

While he resided in Bristol, his father, Dr. Terry, took little Emerson
with him to ride into Hartford that he might see the city. Emerson had
one dollar, and it was the first dollar he ever earned. He took the
dollar with him, thinking to buy something with it in the city. While
they were riding along on the way, they overtook a poor fugitive slave
seeking his freedom in the North. Mr. Terry kindly took the wayfaring
man into his carriage when the poor man related to him his sufferings
and poverty, and also his trust in God. Young Emerson's heart was
touched, when, of his own accord, he drew out his _first_ and _only_
dollar and gave it to the poor fugitive. When he returned home he told
his mother what he had done, with a satisfaction that indicated his
pleasure in being able to relieve a suffering stranger. How noble was
this act. He felt willing to forego the pleasure of spending his dollar
for himself, for any pleasing toys, that he might help a poor wanderer
on the earth. When he was fifteen years of age, he was drowned in the
Connecticut River. He was beloved and respected by a large circle of
acquaintance. He was noted for his kind disposition, tender feelings,
and lovely spirit. He sleeps in peace, and we all hope to meet him in


A poor shepherd, living among the Alps, the father of a large family,
for whose wants he provided with great difficulty, purchased an old
Bible from a dealer in old cloths and furniture. On Sunday evening, as
he was turning over the leaves, he noticed several of them were pasted
together. He immediately began to separate the pasted leaves with great
care. Inside of these leaves he found carefully enclosed a bank bill of
five hundred dollars. On the margin of one of the pages was written
these words: "I gathered together money with very great difficulty, but
having no natural heirs but those who have absolutely need of nothing, I
make thee, whosoever shall read this Bible, my natural heir."

We cannot promise our young friends that they will find money in the
leaves of their Bibles, but you may be assured that if you study its
pages, and follow its precepts, you will find wisdom, which is better
than silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.


Ye favored lands, rejoice,
Where God reveals his word:
We are not left to nature's voice
To bid us know the Lord.

His statutes and commands
Are set before our eyes;
He puts the gospel in our hands,
Where our salvation lies.

His laws are just and pure,
His truth without deceit;
His promise is for ever sure,
And his rewards are great.



There are many plays in which children may amuse themselves so as to
benefit both the mind and body. Exercise is very essential to the
health, and all children should accustom themselves to such exercise as
will give elasticity to all the muscles of the body. Some children often
play too hard, and others, before they get through playing, get to
quarrelling. Children never appear so badly as when they quarrel with
each other. Joseph and William, Jane and little Susan, are out in the
garden playing "hide and seek," around the summer house, as you see in
the picture. William became a little contrary, because every thing in
the play did not suit him, and declared he would run away. And you see
how cross he looks at Jane, as he turns round to run away. Children
should never let anger rise in their bosoms because of some small
mistake on the part of others. They should always overlook all mistakes,
forgive all injuries, and learn to love each other when at play, as well
as when at school. Good children will play together, without getting
angry, and it is a pretty sight to see such children all happy in each
other's society, and enjoying their pleasant pastimes, with cheerful and
happy hearts.

Our evil actions spring like trees,
From small and hidden seeds;
We think, or wish some wicked thing,
And then do wicked deeds.

Whoever dares to tell a lie,
Whoever steals a pin,
Whoever strikes an angry blow,
Has done a deed of sin.


Little George Ames went with his Aunt to attend a missionary meeting.
After the minister had ended his sermon, as he sat in the pew he
whispered to his aunt, saying, "I wish you would lend me a guinea and I
will give it to you again when we get home." His aunt asked him what he
wanted of his guinea; he told her he wished to put it in the box when it
came round, to assist in sending the gospel to the heathen children. She
replied, "a guinea is a great deal of money, George; you had better ask
your mother, first." As George's mother lived very near the church, he
went home immediately, and said, "Mother, will you let me have my guinea
to give to the mission." George's mother saw that he was very much
interested for the heathen children, and says to him, "supposing you
give half of it." "No," said George, "I want to give it all."

"Well, my dear, you will remember you cannot give it and have it too."
She then gave him a one pound note, and a shilling. But George said he
would rather have a guinea. "Why," said his mother, "what difference can
it make? it is just the same amount." "Yes," said George, "but that one
pound will seem so much for a little boy to give. If I had a guinea, I
could put it in between two half-pence and nobody would know any thing
about it." His mother was pleased with his proposal, and George having
got his guinea returned to the church and put it in the box as he

Little George is now dead, and there is no danger of his being puffed up
by what he has done. You may learn from this act of George, how to do
some good to poor heathen children. You should be willing to deny
yourselves some pleasures in order that you may benefit others. And if
you do good out of a pure motive you will be blessed in the deed.


A Jew came to this country from London, many years ago, and brought with
him all his property. He had a lovely daughter of seventeen; with her he
settled in a charming retreat on the fruitful banks of the Ohio, in the
Western part of Virginia. He had buried his wife before he left Europe,
and he knew no comfort but the company of his beloved daughter. She
possessed an amiable disposition, and was well educated; she could
speak several languages, and her manners pleased all who knew her. Being
a Jew, he brought up his daughter in the strictest principles of his

It was not long after that his daughter was taken sick. The rose faded
from her cheek, her strength failed, and it was certain that she could
not live long. Her father was deeply affected. He tried to talk with
her, but could seldom speak without weeping. He spared no expense to
have her get well. One day he was walking in the wood near his house
when he was sent for by his dying daughter. With a heavy heart he
entered the door of her room, and he saw that he was now to take the
last farewell of his daughter.

"My father," said the child, "do you love me?" "Yes," he replied, "you
know that I love you." "I know, father, you have ever loved me. You have
been a kind father, and I tenderly love you. Grant me my dying

"What is it, my child? ask what you will, though it take every farthing
of my property, it shall be granted. I _will grant_ your request."

"My dear father, I now beg of you never again to speak lightly of Jesus
of Nazareth; I know that he is a Saviour, and that he has made himself
known to me, since I have been sick, even for the salvation of my soul.
I entreat you to obtain a Testament that tells of him and that you may
bestow on him the love that was formerly _mine_." She now ceased
speaking, her father left the room, when her soul took its flight to God

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Online LibraryUnknownThe Pearl Box Containing One Hundred Beautiful Stories for Young People, by a Pastor → online text (page 6 of 7)