Happy Days for Boys and Girls

“Duty is not only something which we may do, it is something which we ought to do, and which it would be wrong to neglect. It is not simply permission, but obligation. Is that plain?”

“Yes, mamma. I understand now. I was permitted to pick the berries, but I was not obliged to do it or else do wrong. But if you had sent me to pick them for you, it would have been duty.”

“And do you think that in that case it would be right to go through the thorns?”

“No, mamma; I see now. It is right to take the plainest, easiest way when we can.”

“Yes, my dear. We must not be afraid of thorns if our path leads over them. But if we leave the true path and foolishly try to push ourselves through unnecessary obstacles, it is not bravery or fortitude, but vanity and silly rashness.”

UNDER THE PEAR TREES

UNDER the pear trees one August day,
In the long-ago and the far-away,
Four little children rested from play,

Cheering the hours with childish chat,
Now laughing at this or shouting at that,
Till a golden pear fell straight in Fred’s hat.

“I’m lucky,” he cried as he hastened to eat
The mellow pear so juicy and sweet;
“If I tried for a week, that couldn’t be beat.”

Then Tom and Jenny and Mary spread
Their hats and aprons wide, and said,
“We can catch pears as well as Fred.”

Then long and patient they sat, and still,
Hoping a breeze from over the hill
Their laps with the golden fruit would fill.

Till, weary of waiting, Tom said with a sneer,
“I could gather a bushel of pears, ’tis clear,
While idly we wait for a windfall here.”

Then up the tree he sprang, and the power
Of his sturdy arm soon sent a shower
Of yellow fruit as a golden dower.

It was long ago, that August day
When four little children rested from play
Under the pear trees far away.

And the children, older and wiser now,
With furrows of care on either brow,
Have not forgotten the lesson, I trow —

The lesson they learned on that August day,
That for having our wishes the surest way
Is to work, and in earnest, without delay.

THE CAVE OF BENTON’S RIDGE

THE cave was a large opening in a ledge of rocks, about half a mile from the village of M – , and had for years been a favorite resort for the boys on the holidays.

’Twas at the close of school, on a bright June day, when, with a rush and a shout, out came a bevy of boys from the school-house, and over the wall with a bound were half a dozen before the rest had emerged from the open door. The first ones took their way across the fields to the cave, and had thrown themselves down on the rock at the entrance, and were busily talking, when the last comers arrived.

“We’ve planned to have a time Saturday; if Miss Walters will take the botany class for a walk, we’ll come here and have supper, and go home by moonlight,” said Fred Manning. “How does that strike you?”

“Count me in,” said Phil Earle. “I second the motion,” said Arthur Ames. “Where shall we go to walk?” said another; “this is nearly far enough for some of the girls.”

“Pooh! no! we can get some nice pitcher-plants, if we go to Eaton’s meadows; we haven’t been there for ever so long,” said Phil.

All agreed it would be fun, and Phil was deputized to ask Miss Walters, and with her complete the arrangements.

“It’s Thursday now; and I’ll ask father if we can’t have some of the hay they are making down in the lower field, to put inside the cave; for we must fix up a little,” said Arthur. Willie Eaton said his mother would make them a jug of coffee; and as he lived near, he would run round that way at noon, and put it in the spring, so as to have it nice and cool. For one of the attractions of this place was a lovely spring, that bubbled and sparkled among the ferns, just under the rock where the cave was.

Fred and Phil began to lay the stones for the fireplace; for though it was not cold on these bright June nights, still a fire was one of the grand features of the occasion.

They all worked, some brushing out the cave with bushes, some getting old wood in piles to burn, rolling stones for seats, etc., until it was time for them to go home, when, with merry shouts, off they ran down the rock, and over the fields, home.

Next morning Phil called for Miss Walters, and on the way told her of the plans for Saturday, into which she entered heartily, and wanted the boys to stay a few moments after the morning session, to perfect the arrangements.

At recess she called the girls of the botany class to her, and said, —

“Girls, can you go on Saturday to walk? The boys have invited us to take supper at the cave.”

“O, yes!” “O, yes!” “Yes, indeed!” “Splendid!” answered half a dozen voices.

“We will meet here at two o’clock; and you must dress for the meadows. I believe the boys are mostly web-footed, by the way they take to such places; however, we do find the best specimens there. Another thing – the boys are to furnish eggs and coffee, they say; and each of you can bring what is most convenient.”

Off went the girls, eager to plan and discuss the welcome project.

Saturday came – a bright, cloudless day. All were at the school-house at two, or before, and set forth, looking like strollers, as they were.

They did not make many collections on the high land; but when they entered the meadows, they soon found a variety of pretty grasses.

“Fudge!” said Ella Barton; “I’m not going to get any of that old hay – would you, Miss Walters?”

“No, certainly not, if I did not want the trouble of carrying it; but I think them very lovely to put with branches of bayberry, as they form such a pretty contrast of color with the delicate pearl-gray berries and brown branches; and if you add a few bunches of bright red arum berries, you have a pretty, fadeless winter bouquet.”

“Where can we get the bayberries?” said Fred, coming up.

“In most places near the salt water. In the town where my home is, there are acres and acres of it; and may be at Thanksgiving time I can send you some to distribute, or, better still, you might make up a party, and come down. I’ll promise you a fine tramp, plenty of berries, and perhaps my mother will let you taste of her Thanksgiving pies.”

Off went Fred’s hat high in the air. “Hurrah for the pie! I’ll certainly go, if you’d like to have me.”

Miss Walters laughed, and said nothing would give her greater pleasure than to welcome the whole party.