Cinderella, - [best interesting books to read txt] 📗

girl was giving him?

 

That is a question we must try to have answered. For my part I do

not believe he deserved it at all. Let us see what happened next.

Just as the little girl struck the last blow her Aunt Margaret

came into the room. Aunt Margaret stopped in the doorway,

astonished.

 

“Why Flora,” she said, as puss darted out of the room, “what are

you beating Griffin for?”

 

“What do you think he was doing?” cried Flora, her cheeks still

flushed with anger. “He was on the table just ready to spring at

this beautiful bird in my new hat. If I had not come he would

have torn it to pieces.”

 

“But he knew no better, said Aunt Margaret, “it is perfectly

natural for a cat to spring at a bird. Yes, and for him to kill

it too, if he has not been trained to do otherwise.”

 

“But it would have made me feel dreadfully to have this beautiful

bird torn to bits. I really love it. Besides, it was killed long

ago.”

 

“Yes,” said Aunt Margaret, “killed that you might wear it on a

hat.”

 

There was something in Aunt Margaret’s voice which made Flora

and the little girls who were visiting her stand very still and

look up.

 

“You say,” continued Aunt Margaret very gently, “you say you love

your beautiful bird. That you would feel dreadfully if it were

torn to bits. How do you think its bird-mother felt when it was

torn from her nest, and she never saw it again?”

 

“Oh,” said Flora, “I never thought of that before. I’m afraid,—

I’m afraid I’m more to blame than the cat.”

 

DINAH’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT.

 

Dinah Morris is a colored girl. She lives in the South. By South

we mean in the southern part of the United States.

 

Dinah is one of the most good-natured children that ever lived,

but she is very, very lazy. There is nothing she likes, or used

to like, so much as to curl up in some warm corner in the sun and

do nothing.

 

Dinah’s mother wished very much that her child should learn to

read, but the lady who tried to teach her soon gave it up. “It is

no use,” she said, “Dinah will not learn. She is not a stupid

child, but she is too lazy for anything.”

 

It happened, soon after this, that a young man from Massachusetts

came to the house where Dinah lived. He brought with him

something no one else in the neighborhood had ever seen before—a

pair of roller-skates.

 

When Dinah saw the young man going rapidly up and down the piazza

on his skates she was so astonished she hardly knew what to

think. She ran after him like a cat, her black eyes shining as

they had never shone before.

 

One day the young man allowed her to try on the skates. The child

was too happy for words. Of course she fell down, and sprawled

about the floor, but did not mind at all.

 

“Look here, Dinah,” said the young man, “I understand that my

aunt has been trying to teach you to read.”

 

Dinah answered that she certainly had.

 

“Why didn’t you learn?” asked the young man. “You need not

trouble to answer,” said he, “it was just because you are too

lazy. Now, if, on the first of January, you can read, I tell you

what I will do. I will send you as good a pair of roller-skates

as I can buy in Boston.”

 

How Dinah’s eyes snapped. For a moment she said nothing, then

exclaimed decidedly, “I’ll have those skates, sure.”

 

And she did. When she bent her mind on her work she could always

do it well, no matter what it was.

 

The lady who had before this found her such a difficult child to

teach, now had no trouble. If Dinah showed the least sign of her

former laziness the word SKATES! was enough to make her bend her

mind on her lesson instantly.

 

On New Year’s morning she received a box marked in large printed

letters:

 

MISS DINAH MORRIS,

Care of Mrs. Lawrence Delaney,

NEW ORLEANS, LA.

 

If she can read what is on the outside of

this box she can have what is inside.

 

And as Dinah read every word plainly and quickly, of course she

had for her very own the fine roller-skates the box held. And now

sitting curled up in the sun, doing nothing, is not the thing she

likes to do best.

 

NIGHT FLOWERS.

 

There are some flowers that never see the sun. One of the most

curious is the “evening primrose.” About six o’clock it suddenly

bursts open, with a popping sound, and at six next morning

closes.

 

If you watch that pretty flower, and listen, you can hear

this strange performance.

 

This is why it does so. The little calyx holds the petals in such

a way that the moment it turns back they are let loose. At

once it bursts out into full flower, with this funny noise, like

a pop-gun.

 

So the “night-blooming cereus” blossom in the night, only for an

hour, giving out its sweet fragrance, and then dies. Just think

of never seeing the sun at all!

 

In a far Eastern country there is a kind of jasmine called the

“sorrowful tree.” It droops as if sick in the daytime, and at

night grows fresh and bright. It opens its lovely flowers with a

very pleasant odor till morning, and then wilts and looks

wretched again.

 

THE FIRST SNOW-STORM.

 

Away off on a warm sunny island, little Harry Hall was born.

Flowers bloomed all the year round. The sun shone most of

the time, although now and then there were thunder-showers.

 

Many wonderful plants grew wild, while on the shore shells

and seaweed and queer little fishes were often to be found.

 

When Harry was six years old his parents took a journey to

New York.

 

It seemed very odd to the little boy to live in a place where

there were so many people, and such great houses. After a while

the weather grew cold, and he had to wear thick woollen clothing.

The house in which they lived was heated by a furnace; but one

day they had a fire of logs on the hearth. Harry enjoyed it very

much, and thought the bright blaze so pretty.

 

The sky was gray and cloudy one afternoon, and Harry had

been standing by the window watching the street cars. Suddenly

the air grew thick, and he could scarcely see the houses

opposite. Something white and feathery fell slowly down and

rested on the window ledge. Then it disappeared. But more and

more of the little flakes came, until there was quite a ridge

outside of the window.

 

Harry opened the sash gently, fearing it might fly away. He

was surprised when he touched it to find it so cold. He took

some up in his hand, but in a moment it was only a drop of water.

 

By that time the street and the men’s hats and coats were

quite white. Harry was puzzled to find a name for the beautiful

white substance, so he ran to his mamma and asked her about it.

 

She told him it was snow, and because the air was so warm

on the beautiful island where he was born they never had any.

 

The next morning he saw the little children of the neighborhood

playing in it; but before noon the sun was so bright and

warm the snow had all melted away.

 

When the second snow-storm came Harry’s papa brought home a

beautiful sleigh, and gave his little boy great pleasure by

drawing him up and down the street.

 

Harry soon learned to go out by himself, and made many friends;

especially of the little girls, as he was very generous with his

sleigh.

 

But he has never forgotten his surprise when he saw the first

snow-storm.

 

FRED’S STOLEN RIDE.

 

One day little Fred’s motber, who bad been sick a long time, told

him she was going out with a friend to take a drive. Fred wanted

to go, too, but his mother said there would not be room in the

buggy. Fred felt very cross and unhappy, and sat down on the

front steps, ready to cry as soon as he should see his mother go

away.

 

A buggy came to the gate, and the gentleman who was driving went

into the house. Fred ran out and climbed into the buggy to sit

there until his mother came out.

 

In looking around he saw there was a wide space under the seat,

in which a boy might hide. He crawled in, thinking he would take

a ride, and his mother would not know it.

 

He waited a long time, but no one came, and at last he grew tired

and fell asleep.

 

He was waked by feeling a big jolt, as a wheel of the buggy

struck a stone; but he kept still. After what seemed to him a

long time the buggy stopped and he heard some one taking the

horse from the shafts. He waited until all was quiet, and then

crawled out from his hiding-place.

 

He found it was almost dark, and everything about him was

strange. He was very much frightened, but he jumped down and went

to a farm-house close by. A woman he had never seen before came

to the door. When he told her where he lived she said he was

fifteen miles from home, and he found that he had taken his

stolen ride in the buggy of a man who had called to see his

father on business.

 

It was too late for Fred to go home that night, and he had to

stay at the farmer’s house until the next day. Then he was taken

home, and I am very sure he never tried to steal another ride.

 

A VALENTINE PARTY.

 

The children had a valentine party, the very nicest party,—they

all declared, that they had ever been to in their lives. All the

cousins in the neighborhood—and there were a lot of them—were

there.

 

What fun they had opening their valentines, which a “really”

postman brought with his gray uniform and his whistle and his

great leather pack.

 

“Dear me,” he said, pretending to groan, as he handed the

missives, “if you had a party every day here I think I should

be completey worn out!” But his eyes twinkled merrily.

 

Such shouts and exclamations as the valentines were opened and

read! And such fun looking at everybody else’s. Here are two,

Bessie’s and Fred’s:—

 

I’m for the boy

Who can stand on his head,

And who NEVER likes

To go to bed.

If there’s more than one of them,—

I’m for FRED!

 

I bring a kiss

From far away;

It’s travelled many

Miles to-day.

 

Take it, my dear,

And send one back

To your old, loving

Uncle Jack.

 

Don’t you think that the children OUGHT to have had a good time

if all received as dear little valentines as these?

 

THE VENTURESOME RAT.

 

He was a fine young rat and lived with his father and mother,

and brothers and sisters in a farm-cellar.

 

Now this young rat was not of a very quiet disposition. In fact

he was quite gay, and thought the life in the farm-cellar was

very dull and stupid and longed to see more of the world.

 

He sat near his father and mother one day