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قراءة كتاب The Pansy Magazine, February 1886
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said, he didn't suppose they were; probably they were only going to leave him long enough to get him thoroughly scared; but if he was not much mistaken they were the scared ones this time. Toby, when he went over to the boarding-house, saw two or three fellows skulking around the coal house, and he walked boldly up to them and said: 'If you are looking for Master Andrews, he is in Miss Peabody's library eating nuts and apples;' Toby's a sharp fellow; he said the way they scampered was worth a dollar.
"I suppose that evening's work was about the best thing that ever happened to 'Master Andrews.' Miss Harriet all but adopted him; she had him with her on Sundays, and holidays, and to spend the evening as often as she could get up an excuse for his coming. He told me once, with the great tears in his eyes, that she was the best friend a fellow ever had in the world. 'And to think,' he said, 'that very morning of the day she found me in her coal shed, I had joined in the laugh the boys had over her because she walked so straight and looked like a soldier! I tell you I never laughed at her again.'"
"What became of the boys who treated him so meanly? Were they expelled?"
"No; little Andrews plead for them, and got them forgiven; he said they didn't mean to be ugly, only darkness and rain were nothing but fun to them and they could not understand his dreadful fright. No, they really grew to be better boys under his influence; and one Thanksgiving Day Miss Harriet had them all to dinner, to please Andrews. One of them, the tallest and handsomest, actually cried when he was telling me about how frightened little Andrews was, and how sorry he felt for him afterwards. He slipped out, unknown to the others, to let him out of the coal shed; but it was too late; fortunately, Miss Harriet had found him. Oh! he wasn't a very bad boy, only a thoughtless one; he grew to be a splendid man; and young Andrews and he were friends as long as he lived."
"Are they both dead?"
"Oh, no; Andrews died when he was a young man; he was a good noble man, and died bravely because he wasn't afraid to run into danger to help save a life; but the other one is down in the library reading his paper, and I ought to go this minute and read it for him." Grandma fumbled for her spectacles, and went off smiling.
"There!" said Rollo, "I had a feeling it was Grandpa, all the time. Just think of Grandma calling him 'a horrid, awful boy!'"
POEM FOR RECITATION.
THE TWO GREAT CITIES.
Afar on the traveller's sight.
One, black with the dust of labor,
One, solemnly still and white.
Apart, and yet together,
They are reached in a dying breath;
But a river flows between them,
And the river's name is—Death.
Apart, and yet together,
Together, and yet apart,
As the child may die at midnight,
On the mother's living heart.
So close come the two great cities,
With only the river between;
And the grass in the one is trampled,
But the grass in the other is green.
The hills with uncovered foreheads,
Like the disciples meet,
While ever the flowing water
Is washing their hallowed feet.
And out on the glassy ocean,
The sails in the golden gloom
Seem to me but the moving shadows
Of the white enmarbled tomb.
Anon from the hut and the palace,
Anon, from early till late,
They come, rich and poor, together,
Asking alms at the beautiful gate.
O silent city of refuge
On the way to the city o'erhead!
The gleam of thy marble milestones
Tells the distance we are from the dead.
Full of feet, but a city untrodden,
Full of hands, but a city unbuilt,
Full of strangers who know not even
That their life-cup lies there, spilt.
They know not the tomb from the palace,
They dream not they ever have died;
God be thanked, they never will know it,
Till they live, on the other side!
Samuel Miller Hageman.
THE ENGINE'S PUNISHMENT.
Papa and I, behind "Old Gray,"
And our little Fred was along beside,
Looking out o'er the fields, enjoying the ride.
I was sitting back reading, contented and calm,
While Fred had the whip held tight in his palm,
And was snapping it round at urchins and dogs,
And sometimes at only some old rotten logs.
We were crossing the track, when we heard such a shout
That all of us jumped, and looked quickly about,
When we saw the old flagman as frantic and wild
As a pea on a shovel that's hot; and his child
Screamed out "Stop, O, stop! here comes the train!"
Papa looked quickly out, then drew in the rein.
I shut my eyes tight, and held to the seat,
And I knew I could hear my frightened heart beat!
A rush and a roar, a sudden pull back,
A "toot! toot! toot! toot!" and a terrible crack;
And I heard papa say, "Cheer up, little maid,
For here we are, safe, so don't be afraid!"
"But what was that crack?" when I'd quite got my breath,
And all things around us were silent as death
(Except the low rumble of the distant train,
Which, when we were safe, had steamed off again).
"Why, Katy, 'twas me!" and Fred turned in his place,
"I whipped the old engine right in the face!
I guess he won't scare us again so, do you?
For I gave him a cut that just made him boo, hoo!"
Well, we laughed, and we laughed, till tears came in our eyes,
At how little Fred did the engine chastise,
Until over his face came a flush of bright red.
"You are right; he won't scare us again," papa said.
Paranete.