Progressive Tales for Little Children: In Single Syllables of Six, Seven, and Eight Letters

Preface

Having been requested by several mothers of experience, wbo have borne testimony to the usefulness of the Very Little Tales, to follow up that work progressively into stories, in words of two

PREFACE.

full syllables, the author has here endeavoured to comply with their desire ; and shall think herself amply rewarded for whatever trouble the attempt may have cost her, should the latter part of her undertaking meet with the same approbation which the public have so kindly awarded to the first.

THE

BLIND BOY.

IN WORDS OF SIX LETTERS.

Part I. The Birth Day

Grace and Claude Arne were twins. Tlieir birtli day was on the eighth of May ; and it had just come round.

THE BLIND BOY.

They were now in their teens, and each was glad to be no more a child.

Claude was a fine stout boy, tall and well grown for his years. Grace was a sweet, meek g-irl, wise, and good, and kind : just such a girl as Jane Hare, of whom I told you in the last tales I wrote for you.

The sun shone bright and clear on this new day of their birth ; the air was fresh and pure ; the herbs and plants smelt sweet ; the trees were full of birds, that sang gay songs on each tall spray.

Claude and Grace had spent the first part of the day in peace and joy ; and when the cool eve came on, they took a walk by the side of a nice clear brook.

that ran thro' a glade not far from their home.

Claude took with him his dog' and a gun, in hopes to shoot some birds in the glade, and he had on his back a neat small creel,* made of white rods, to hold all the game he might chance to find. He had yet to learn that it was wrong to kill, in

* Scottish for a sort of basket.

sport, that which God had made with life : so he tohl Grace to take his rod in her hand, that, in case he did not meet with birds, he might try to catch some trouts out of the stream, which was full of fine fish.

Grace took the rod, tho' she did not much like the work ; and she took with her, too, a nice set of tales,

B a birth day gift which she had just got, that, when he was at his sport, she might sit down on the bank and read her new book.

Now, Claude had gone up the glade on the one side, and down the brook on the other side, and, though birds rose all round him, yet he did not kill one. At last, up got a fine wood guest from its nest : it is a kind of wild dove ; and lie took aim at it, in great haste, and shot it, he knew not well how ; but it fell down close to the spot where Grace sat.

The shot made her start, and, when she saw the wood guest fall at her feet, she took it up, to try if she could save its life ; but the poor thing gave one gasp of pain, and then lay dead in her hand.

** What hard, hard hearts they must have, who Hke to kill birds in this way for mere sport !" said she. " Were I a man, I would not fire a gun at things with life, for all the world."

Claude, who just then came up, gave a loud laugh, and said, " Well, I am sure

THE BLIND BOY. IS

/ would not fire at things that were dead : and, if you were a man, Grace, you would do as I do ; but, since it makes you sad to see the birds fall, I will lay down my gun, and try to catch some trouts with my rod."

So he threw out his line on the smooth stream, and soon drew out a fine large fish, and when he took it

U THE BLIND BOY.

off the hook, he flung it to Grace. It fell at her feet, too, and she saw it gasp, and beat its sides on the hard stones ; and she shut her eyes, and said, " Oh ! this is worse, much worse, than the first ! Oh, Claude ! when God gave life to that sweet bird, and this poor trout, I think He did not mean that we should kill them fm our play.'' As she spoke, she ran to put the trout back into the stream ; and, just as Claude was on the point to stop her, he gave a start, and she heard him say, " Hark, Grace ! do you not hear some strange cry ?" Grace dropt the fish in the brook, and, as she stood to see it swim down the tide, she too heard a cry, so loud, and long, and full of wo, that Claude and she ran olf at once to search all round, and try to find out where the voice could come from.

THE BLIND BOY.

PART 11.

A GOOD AUNT.

They ran on till they came to a small mud cot, with a roof of sods, which had once been a shed for cows ; and it was so old, and low, and small, that c m THE BLIND BOY.

Grace said she was sure no one could be there ; but out of this mud hut the sounds of wo had come : and now they both heard the cry once more.

" Who can it be ?" said Grace.

" Some one in great pain, I fear," said Claude ; " some poor wretch, it may be, who has gone in here to die : let

US go in and ask if we can be of use."

As lie went in, Grace stood at the door ; and they saw some straw spread on the damp, cold floor, and on this straw lay the form of a girl, who did not seem to be quite young : yet she was not more than twice the age of Grace.

Whether she lay in sleep or death, they could not tell : for they had never seen death, and did not know what it was like ; but they had heard that, some times, to the child of God, it looks like a sweet, calm rest : and some thing told them both that this poor girl would wake no more in this life.

A boy, not quite so old as Claude, sat by her side.

He was weak and ill ; and he was still worse, — he was blind ! Day had no light for him ; the nig-ht and the day to him were both the same. He was for a short time mute and still ; but at last he g-ot up, and felt all round the bed, to know if the girl who lay on it still slept. He laid his hand on her face, and found it cold ;

her eyes were shut, and so were her lips ; she slept, hut it was the sleep of death. Her life had been a life of wo, and God had now seen fit to take her soul to a place of rest, where no more pain could reach her.

" She will not speak to me," said he ; " she cannot speak : she is dead, quite dead, and I am left with

THE BLIND BOY.

110 one near to help me. Oh, my Aunt ! my Aunt ! how shall I live with-out you ? My poor blmd eyes can-not see you ; but they can weep for you : and so they shall, my whole life long-."

/ As he spoke, t?he blind boy threw him-self on the straw, by the side of his dead aunt ; and his sobs and moans grew once more so loud and sad, that Grace could not but weep as fast as he did ; and Claude, in spite of all he did to keep them back, felt his tears fall too.

Grace went to the bed side, and said, in a mild voice, " Ah ! do not weep, poor boy ! that cannot bring your good aunt back to life ;

but, if she lias taug-ht you to love God, and to trust in His Son, you will yet go where you will meet her once more, though she cannot come to you."

As she spoke, Claude took the hoy by the hand, to let him know how much they both felt for him ; but he drew it back in haste, to clasp his arms round ' his

D aunt, and he clung- to her dead form as if it had been still in life. He had staid in that cold, damp hut, and been her nurse for a whole week, and had scarcely had food or rest for all that time ; and he was now so weak, that the sound of a strange voice, kind as it was, made him start ; his head swam round, and he felt SO sick and ill, that he thought he too was now to die.

But his race was not yet run ; and thoug-h he sank into a swoon, that made both Grace and Claude fear he was dead, yet God had a long life in store for him. For He knew that, while the eyes of this poor hoy were dark, his mind was full of light, and that he was fit to be of much use to those who, though they have sight, will not see things as they ought.

His aunt had taught him, from the book which cannot lie, that all things work for good to those who love and fear God ; and when at times he felt in grief at his own want of sight, the words which she spake from the Book of Life came into his mind, and he would try, with all his heart, to trust in Christ, and to wait for the time when He should see fit to turn to g-ood all that now seemed to be evil in his lot.

Part III. A Good Old Man

It was not long till Grace and Claude saw tliat the blind boy was in a swoon ; and, as they were at a loss to know what to do for him, an old man came into the hut, who had seen the boy and his aunt some times, and who told them all he knew of them.

" He is a good child," said this old man ; " and his young heart is full of love both to God and man ; but he is ill from grief and want. He came here with her who now lies dead by his side : I do not know from wliat place ; but his aunt fell ill : and, wlien slie grew too weak to work or to walk, slie led liim into tliis poor liut, where she lay down to die. It was I who spread this straw for them to lie on, and who brought them such scraps of food as I could beg from those who had more to spare than I had. It was all that I could do for them."

" And it was well done," said Claude. " Do you know the 'boy's name ?"

" His name is Paul Frere ; and, if I was not as poor as he is himself, I would take him with me, and keep him as my child," said the man.

" Take him up in your arms, and bring him with

E

US, and we will take care of him, and will pay you for your pains," said Grace ; and, as the old man took him up to do as he was told, Claude ran on, and led the way to a lodge which was at the gate of his own home, and there he told the old man to bring in the boy.

Our nurse lives here," said Grace, " and she will soon make him well, if care can do it."

As soon as nurse saw tliem come into her house, with a blind boy in that weak state, she made the old man lay him on her own bed ; and both he and she did all they could to bring" him out of his faint. At last they saw him move, and heard him sigh. Then he put out his hands, from place to place, on the bed, as if he sought for some one ; and when he found that the form of his aunt was not near him, he got up, and would have gone to seek for her, but that the old man would not let him leave the bed.

Where am I ?" said he. " I know not where I am, or where my aunt is. She is not g-one from me, I trust. All, no ! she is not. When all else went from me, she took me as her child, and said she would not leave me. Ah, no, my aunt ! I know you have not left me : I who had no one to care for me but you." As he said these words he fell back, and was so weak he would have gone into a swoon once more, but that Grace put some wine to his lips, which he took drop by drop ; and nurse got him some warm food, which, in a short time, made him grow more strong.

" Was it you, my aunt, who gave me this good food ? Thank God, who sent it to us both. But where have you been this long, long time, and why do you keep

SO far from me ?" (As he spoke, he put out his hands to feel for her.) " I have had sad dreams, dear aunt. I thoug^ht that you were dead ; and, oh ! what grief I felt without you ! Do come and bless me as your child once more."

As the old man, Claude, and Grace, and nurse heard this, they could not stop m THE BLIND BOY.

their tears ; but at last nurse said to Mm, " Know, dear child, that when God takes from us those who have been our best friends, He does not leave us without help. He still, if we put our whole trust in Him, sends some new friend to be our stay, who will be kind to us for His dear sake."

At the sound of this new voice, Paul gave a start. "Ah ! who would be like my aunt to me, or whom could I love like her ? But, oh ! I fear she is gone from me. Yes, yes ! I now know that God has sent to call her to Him-self. But how, oh ! how shall I live without her ! Oh, my aunt ! my aunt ! your hands were as my own to work for me ; your feet

F

^ THE BLIND BOY.

as mine, to lead my steps ; your sight, as light to my poor blind eyes : and now, if you are gone, how shall I live or move without you ?"

Trust but in God— the God with whom your aunt now dwells in bliss — and He will guide and teach you to do all things well, and much that you cannot think of now," said nurse.

" Oh ! how could I be taught, who have been blind from my birth ?" said he. " It seems to me that one who has no sight has got no soul, no sense. Oh, my atmt ! you were as the sight of my eyes, and the light of my mind. Yes ! she was as the voice of GtOd to me : for she read to me from His own book all that I ought to do, and say, and think."

Here Claude took Paul's hand in his, and said, " Did she not read to you from that blessed book. When all we love on earth have left us, then the Lord will take us up ?"

Yes, yes ! she read me words like these ; and I would fain trust in them :

but, oh ! who will read to me as she did, or teach me to go where she is gone ?"

" I will read for you," said Grace.

" And I," said Claude.

" We will all teach you, and care for you," said nurse. " But God, who sent these young friends to your aid, will Himself teach you in the way that He shall choose."

" Yes!" said Claude; " He will yet let us teach you to earn your own bread, and to work for those who cannot work for themselves."

Paul gave a sad smile. " Ah, sir !" said he ; *^ do you not know that you speak to a blind boy ? How can they work who cannot see ?"

" Come with me," said Claude, " and I will take you where you will soon find that it can be done."

Part IV. Blind Men

Claude and Grace now led tlie blind boy to their own borne, where their grand -papa, a good, and kind, and rich old lord, gave them leave to lay out part of his wealth in aid of those who stood in need of help.

The old lord sat at this time on a seat which Claude had made for him, at the foot of a fine elm tree which grew in his lawn. He was bent with ag-e ; but his face had a look at once kind and full of sense : yet it bore marks of care ; for the good old man had now no child

G or grand - child left, save Claude and Grace, and, sad to say, he too was blind like Paul.'

While Grrace took Paul by the hand, and led him to the elm tree, Claude ran on and told his grand -papa where and how they had found the boy, and let him know all they knew themselves of his fate.

Then Lord Arne held out his hand, and said, " Come here, poor boy, and trust to me to be your friend. Your lot and mine are, in part, the same, I hear : you were born blind, and I am blind from ag-e. Now, let us both try to shew the world, that we can love God with our hearts, and serve him with our minds, as well as those

THE BLIND BOY.

whom He has let to serve Him with their eyes."

" I would like to serve Him," said Paul Frere, " through all the days of my dark life, if I knew how ; and, if I do, He will, I hope, take me at last to live with him, where my last friend is gone."

The old lord put his arm round the boy's waist, as he said, " If you put your whole trust in Christ, you need not fear : for He who shed his blood to save you, will let you join all those you love, and live with them and with him-self in bliss."

" And now, Paul," said Claude, " was not nurse right ? If God, for some wise end, took your last friend from you, has he not sent you a new one ; one, too, who can get you taught to work for your own bread. Will you not be glad to learn ?"

Paul did not speak ; he bent his head, and felt as if no art of man could teach him how to work. " I have no sight : all is dark to me." At last said he, " How then could I learn to work ?"

THE BLIND BOY.

" Though you have not sight, you have got sense," said Lord Arne ; " and you have got hands, and can be taught to use them, both for your-self and for the good of all man-kind."

Paul was still mute ; and Lord Arne went on : " If you go back by your-self to the lodge which you have just left, and bring me a trunk out of the press which stands m the hall there, I will give you all the clothes which are in that trunk for your own, and will have you taugiit to earn and make up new things for your-self, by the time you shall have need of them."

The boy shook his head, and tears ran down his face. " I can-not go," said he ; " I should not know which way to turn."

Claude took his hand, and laid it on a large brass ring, which hung on a hook that had been put into one side of the tree. " Take hold of this ring," said he ; " lift it off the hook, and do not let it go. There is a long rope through the ring ; one end of it is on the hook in

H tliis tree, the far end is on a hook at the door of the lodge. Hold the ring, and run as fast as you please, and do not fear : the rope and the ring will guide you hack to our good nurse."

Paul took the ring, and, at first, he was some -what in fear to run ; but he did as he was told to do, and soon had cause to be glad of it.

There was a nice soft path for his feet ; and as he held the ring while he ran, it ran on the rope with him, and was a guide for him, till it stopt at the lodge door. Here the rope had been made too thick for the ring to pass, and, as Paul gave it a pull to get on, he heard a bell ring with such a loud toll as made him start.

" Ah ! I have done some harm : what am I to do now ?" said he to him-self. But ere he had time to think more, the good old nurse came out, and shook him by the hand, and spoke to him with a kind voice, as if he had been her son.

He told her he was come

THE BLIND BOY.

to bring' a trunk to Lord Arne, out of some press in her house, but that he did not know how to get it.

" A rope and a ring" will take you throug-h all the rooms in this house ; stretch out your hand, and feel for a new ring that runs at this end of your rope. When you have g-ot it, drop the one you hold, which would m THE BLIND BOY.

take you back to the lawn ; but this new one will lead you into the hall, where trunks of clothes are kept for those who can earn them."

Paul Frere did as he was told, and his new ring led him into the house, and up a long" flight of stairs, to the press in which the trunks stood. " I fear," said he.

" that I could not take up one of these large trunks, and hold the ring* to guide me too."

" If you take the trunk, you need not hold the ring," said nurse. " Take one out, and place it in the small cart which you may feel at your feet."

He did so ; and then bade her tell him what he should do next.

" Take a shaft of the cart in each hand, and try if you can push it on."

Paul took up the cart ; and, as soon as he gave it the first push, the wheels went round, in a nice smooth deep rail -way, that made them run as fast as he could go ; and the cart was so light, and ran with so much ease, that he felt it was like play to run with it.

I

Part V. A House For The Blind

Paul Frere went on with liis cart for a long, long time ; so long, that at last he thought he could not be on the right way back to the lawn : and he stood still in great fear, lest his dumb guide miglit lead him to some wrong place. Then the loss of his aunt came back to his mind, and his tears fell fast for her and for him-self. " She is far, far from me, and can-not come to lead me more," said he ; " there is no one now to guide or help me."

" Go where you may.

God will send friends to take care of you, if you trust in Him," said a voice not far off. " Thoug-h you cannot see Him, He sees you, and will watch and guard you in all your ways. Cast oif all fear tlien, and go with your cart as far as it will lead you."

Paul went on ; and the wish he now had to know where the cart would stop, sent his grief, for a short time, out of his mind. At last the wheels ran into a deep rut, and stood still ; and, as they did so, a bell rang- once more. And now Paul heard a g-reat noise, and sound of words, and steps, as if crowds of men and boys were near him. Some ran . here, and some

W, THE BLIND BOY,

went there, and he heard them speak, and chat, and laug-h, and sing^, as if they were all glad and gay. As the hell rang, a hoy came to Paul, and said, " Who rmgs i

" A hlind hoy," said Paul. " I come with a trunk for Lord Arne, which he bade me bring to him."

" He is in the hall where we sup," said the boy ; " leave the trunk here, and we will go and tell him that you have got it for him."

This boy, whose name was John, put a new ring into Paul's hand ; and, while he held it, he went on by a long flag way into a large hall, at the door of which he stopt : for he felt that he stood in front of a large crowd.

" Oh I what shall I do now ?" thought he. " How shall I get through this crowd of men, who can all see me, though I can -not see my way past them ? Oh ! how they must stare at my poor blind eyes ; and how glad they must all be to have their sight !"

John now took hold of Paul, and led him to Lord Arne, who said, in a kind voice, " Come near to me, Paul Frere. I wish to tell all the men here that you are a good boy, and that I mean to be your friend. Mean time, the trunk which you have brought to the door, and all that is in it, is your own. You have done

K all I told you to do ; and now you must sit down and sup with the friends who are round you here."

Lord Arne then put a cord, that ran close by the wall, into his left hand, and bade him walk with it in his hand, till he had felt five knots on the cord ; and when he came to the fifth, he was to sit down on the form which was at his right side, and to know that this was his own place, when he came each day to eat his meals.

Paul took the cord, felt for the knots, and sat down on the form to sup with all that crowd of men and hoys round him. Some ate, and some drank, and some stood to serve the rest ; and Paul got food which he thought was the best he had had in all his life : and, when he had done, he bent his head, as his aunt had taug"ht him, and said, " Thank God for this good food, and for all His care of me this day."

Just as he said this, a boy got up, and gave thanks in a loud voice, that all might hear and join in the same words.

Then Lord Arne told

THE BLIND BOY. If

John to take Paul Frere round tlie rooms of tlie house, and to let him know the plan of all the ropes and ring's, knots and cords, by which he was to find his way from place to place ; and J ohn said he would take Paul into his care, and teach him all he knew him-self ; and that, when he knew his way through the house, he would teacli him how to count, and do sums hy means of a small hit of stick with five sides, and to read hy means of a cord full of knots.

" Will you not let me teach you, Paul ?" said this good hoy.

" Ah !" said Paul, I could not learn : you know I can-not see."

" Can I see ?" said John.

" Yes," said Paul, " I hope so."

" You think there are none in this house, then, who do not see, but you and me ?" said Lord Arne.

" Yes, my lord, I think so : I am glad to know that they can all see."