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The Little Girl who Told the Truth.
of our little correspondents sends us
ijKjj the following incident, which we publish,
with the accompanying note :
fMa. Burke: —Here is a little incident
that occurred when I was quite a little
girl. You can re-publish it if you like.
Father had it published at the time. I hope I tell
the truth now as I did then. I am now eleven
years old.
LITTLE FANNY.
Little Fanny is nearly five years old. She will
be five next December. Her mother and father
have endeavored to make her a truthful child.
Thus far they have succeeded pretty well. Little
Fanny is head-strong and self-willed, and has, on
this account, given her parents much trouble. —
She is thoughtless, too, which leads her to do
many things which she would not do if she could
think about them beforehand, but the dear little
girl will tell the truth.
Now, little Fanny’s mother is left-handed, and,
therefore, has to use left-handed scissors. She
has to send away to New York to get left-handed
scissors. Well, this fall a merchant brought her
a very nice pair from New York. They were new
and bright and sharp, and fitted that unfashionable
left hand to aT. The mother was very fond of
her left-handed scissors, and, therefore, was very
careful to keep them out of the way of little Fanny
and the servants.
It happened one day that Fanny’s mother went
a visiting, and when she came back she found her
beautiful, nice, new, left-handed scissors broken
off at the point. There was a full inch broken off
of the points. She was very angry, and called up
the servants and asked in a threatening, excited
manner who had broken the scissors? She was
very much out of humor, and declared most posi
tively that she would wear out the one that broke
her scissors. The servants denied knowing any
thing about it.
Now, during all this time, little Fanny was
standing by a chair, listening to her mother and
looking very serious. Her mother saw her and
quickly turned to her.
“ Fanny,” said she, “ did you break the scis
sors?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Fanny ; “1 dropped them
on the floor and they got broke.”
The mother could not whip a child so full of
truth. The tears came into her eyes, and the
father, who was a witness to this little family inci
dent, caught his little daughter in his arms and
kissed her. Both parents were glad the scissors
were broken, as the accident furnished an occasion
for the exhibition of truthfulness that few grown
up people would have exhibited under the circum
stances.
Dear children readers, always tell the truth, un
der all circumstances. Dear parent readers, never
punish a child who has the honesty and fortitude
to tell a truth under peculiar temptations.
Fanny’s Father.
Back Numbers.
We can still supply back numbers from the be
ginning of the volume. Yearly subscribers can
he supplied with the first thirteen numbers, stitch
ed in an elegant illuminated cover. ts
Remember that clubs need not all go to
she same post office, or to the same State. Get
them where you can.
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
THE DOG AND THE SHADOW.
DOG crossing a water
course with a piece of
hi® mouth, saw
his own shadow repre
mlL sonted in the clear mir
-3 ror of the liquid stream, and believ
ing it to be another dog, who was
carrying another piece of meat, he
Ey could not forbear catching at it, but
was so far from getting anything
this fable, and adds, by-way of moral, that
lie who catches at more than belongs to
him justly deserves to lose what he has.
Yet uotliing is more common, and af? the
same time more pernicious, than this prin
ciple. It prevails from the king to the
peasant, and all orders and degrees of
men are, more or less, infected with it.
Great monarchs have been drawn on, by
this greedy humor, to grasp at the do
minions of their neighbors ; not that they
wanted anything more to feed their lux
ury, but to gratify their insatiable appe
tite for vain-glory. If the kings of Persia
could have been contented with their own
vast territories, they would not have lost
all of Asia for the sake of a little petty
State of Greece. And France, with all
her glory, lias ere now been reduced to
the last extremity by the same unjust en
croachments on the rights of others.
lie that thinks he sees another’s estate
in a pack of cards, or a box of dice, and
ventures his own in the pursuit of it,
should not repine if he finds himself a
beggar in the end.
—
“ Pa,” said a little fellow the other
day, “wasn’t Job an editor ?”
“Why, Sammy?”
“Because the Bible informs us that he
had much trouble, and was a man of sor
rows all the days of his life.”
The first day a little boy w r ent to
school the teacher asked him if he could
spell.
“Yes, sir.”
“ Well, how do you spell ‘boy ?’ ”
“Oh, just as other folks do.”
—
The greatest treasure of life is con
tentment.
DO IT WELL.
AID HAKKY, throwing
down the shoe brush,
“ There, that’ll do; my
boots don’t look very
bright. No matter; w T bo
cares ?”
“Whatever is worth doing, is
Agy worth doing well,” replied a seri
ous but pleasant voice.
Harry started and turned round to see
who spoke. It was his father. Harry
blushed. His father said :
“Harry, my boy, your boots look
wretchedly. Pick up your brush and
make them shine. When they look as
they should, come into the library.”
“Yes, pa,” replied Harry pouting, and
taking up his brush in no very good hu
mor, he brushed the dull boots until they
shone nicely. When the boots were pol
ished he went to his father, who said to
him :
“My son, I want to tell you a short
story. I once knew a poor boy whose
mother taught him the proverb, ‘What
ever is worth doing is worth doing well.’
That boy went to be a servant in a gen
tleman’s family. He took pains to do
everything well, no matter how trivial it
seemed. His employer was pleased and
took him into his shop. He did his work
well there. When he swept out the shop
he did that well. When he was sent on
an errand, he went quickly, and did his
work faithfully. When he was told to
make out a bill, or to enter an account,
he did that well.
“ This pleased his employer, so that he
advanced him from step to step, until he
became clerk, then a partner, and now
he is a rich man, and anxious that his son
Harry should learn to practice the rule
which made him prosper.”
“ Why, pa, were you a poor boy once ?”
asked Harry.
“ Yes, my son, so poor that I had to go
into a family and black boots, wait at the
table, and do other little menial services
for a living. By doing those things well
I was soon put, as I have told you, to do
things more important. Obedience to the
proverb, with God’s blessing made me a
rich man.”
Harry never forgot the conversation.
Whenever he felt like slighting a bit of
work, he thought of it, and felt spurred
to do his work properly. “ Whatever is
worth doing is worth doing well,” cheer
ed him in his daily duties.
+<*+
The newspaper is a sermon for the
thoughtful, a library for the poor, and a
blessing to everybody.
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