blushes, and the compliments she stammered out, dispelled, as by a sunbeam, the kind of mist which had gathered round my mind: my thoughts suddenly changed from the leaden tints of evening to the brightest colors of dawn. I made Paulette sit down, and questioned her with a light heart. 14. At first the little girl replied in monosyllables; but very soon the tables were turned, and it was I who interrupted, with short interjections, her long and confidential talk. The poor child leads a hard life. She was left an orphan long since, with a brother and sister; and she lives with an old grandmother, who has brought them up to poverty, as she always calls it. 15. However, Paulette now helps her to make bandboxes; her little sister Perrine begins to use the needle; and her brother Henry is apprentice to a printer. All would go well if it were not for losses and want of work; if it were not for clothes which wear out, for appetites which grow larger, and for winter, when you can not get sunshine for nothing. 16. Paulette complains that her candles go too quickly, and that her wood costs too much. The fire-place in their garret is so large, that a fagot' makes no more show in it than a match: it is so near the roof, that the wind blows the rain down it, and in winter it hails upon the hearth; so they have left off using it. m 17. Henceforth they must be content with an earthen chafing dish, upon which they cook their meals. The grandmother has often spoken of a stove that was for sale at the shop close by; but the shop-keeper asked five dollars for it, and the times are too hard for such an expense. The family, therefore, resign themselves to the cold, for economy! 18. As Paulette spoke, I felt more and more that I was losing my fretfulness and low spirits. The first disclosures of the little bandbox-maker had created within me a wish that soon became a plan. I questioned her about her dai ly occupations; and she informed me, that on leaving she must go with her brother, her sister and grandmother, to the different people for whom they work. My plan was immediately formed. I told the child that I would go to see her in the evening; and I sent her away with fresh thanks. 19. I placed the wall-flower in the open window, where a ray of sunshine bid it welcome: the birds were singing around, the sky had cleared up, and the day, which began so loweringly," had become bright. I sang as I moved about my room, and, having hastily put on my hat and coat, I went out. 20. Three o'clock. All is settled with my neighbor, the chimney-sweeper, who keeps second-hand stoves: he will repair my old stove, and answers for its being as good as At five o'clock we are to set out, and put it up in Paulette's grandmother's room. new. 21. Near Midnight. All has gone off well. At the hour agreed upon, I was at the old bandbox-maker's: she was still out. My chimney-sweeper fixed the stove, while I arranged a dozen logs in the great fire-place, taken from my winter stock. I shall make up for them by warming myself with walking, or by going to bed earlier. 22. My heart beat at every step which was heard on the staircase. I trembled lest they should interrupt me in my preparations, and should thus spoil my intended surprise. But no-see every thing ready; the lighted stove murmurs gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle of oil for it is provided on the shelf. The chimneysweeper is gone. Now, my fear lest they should come', is changed into impatience at their not' coming. At last, I hear children's voices; here they are: they push open the door and rush in--but they all stop in astonishment! 23. At the sight of the lamp, the stove, and the visitor, who stands there like a magician in the midst of these wonders, they draw back almost frightened. Paulette is the first to comprehend it; and the arrival of the grand mother, who is more slowly mounting the stairs, finished the explanation. Then come tears, ecstasies, thanks! 24. But the wonders are not yet ended. The little sister opens the oven, and discovers some chestnuts just roasted; the grandmother puts her hand on the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I draw forth from the basket that I have hidden, a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh rolls. 25. Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never seen such a feast! They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat: it is a complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it. I had brought only the supper; the bandbox-maker and the children supplied the enjoyment. 26. What bursts of laughter at nothing'! What a hubbub of questions which waited for no reply-of replies which answered no question'! The old woman herself shared in the wild merriments of the little ones! I have always been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness. Being only used to live for the present, they make a gain of every pleasure as soon as it offers itself. But the surfeiteda rich are more difficult to satisfy; they require time, and every thing to suit, before they will consent to be happy. 27. The evening has passed like a moment. The old woman told me the history of her life-sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes. Perrine sang an old ballad with her fresh, young voice. knows of the great writers of the carry their proofs. At last we were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part of the happy family. Henry told us what he day, to whom he has to 28. I have come home slowly, ruminating, with a full heart, and pure enjoyment, on the simple events of the evening. It has given me much comfort, and much instruction. Now, no New Year's Day will come amiss to I know that no one is so miserable as to have nothing to give, and nothing to receive. me. 29. As I came in, I met my rich neighbor's new equipage. She, too, had just returned from her evening's party; and, as she sprang from the carriage-step with feverish impatience, I heard her murmur-At last! I, when I left Paulette's family, said-So soon! To my rich neighbor the evening hours had dragged wearily along; to me they had sped away on the swift wings of enjoyment. * MON-O-SYL'-LA-BLES, words of but one syllable. FAG'-OT, a bundle of small sticks for fuel. m CHAF'-ING-DISH, a dish for hot coals. n Low'-ER-ING-LY, cloudily; gloomily. P EC-STA-SIES, raptures. 9 SUR'-FEIT-ED, filled to excess. PROOFS, printed sheets for correction. [This charming story, translated from "The Attic Philosopher," a French work, by E. Souvestre, is a very happy illustration of the principle expressed in the 25th verse, "that no one is so miserable as to have nothing to give and nothing to receive." The "Attic Philosopher" is a poor man, a bachelor, of scholarly tastes, who is almost "alone in the world," a "poor solitary," as he calls himself, and whose home is a single attic room in a city dwelling. But, surveying, with a philosophic eye, whatever passes under his notice, he describes, muses, and meditates, in such a manner as to draw forth, from scenes of lowly life, many an interesting and valuable moral lesson. One of these lessons we have here given. Analysis.-A rainy New Year's morning: the attic philosopher is out of temper. Why should he rejoice? The scene in the street below: his reflections thereon. The sparrows on the roof. How the thought of making even the sparrows happy relieved the sadness of the philosopher's heart. A visit from Paulette. Paulette described. The philosopher's first acquaintance with her. The wall-flower. The effect of Paulette's gift upon the philosopher. Paulette's occupation, her home, and her history. How Paulette's story affected the philosopher. The latter's plan for a happy surprise. How it was carried out. The happy evening. The happiness of the poor and the rich contrasted (v. 26). The rich neighbor and the attic philosopher. The lesson, beginning as a soliloquy, soon unites with it both description and narration, interspersed with moral deductions. The character of the composition is tranquil and pleasing; the style is simple, chaste, and unaffected; and the piece should be read with moderate force, the middle pitch, and a pure tone.] LESSON LIX. "BLESSED TO GIVE.” 1. THE kingly sun gives forth his rays; 2. The rustic flower, upspringing bright, 3. The merchant-rain which carries on 4. Suggestived warnings crowd the earth; 5. O man! the gem and crown of all, a RUS'-TIE, relating to the country. b RE-GAL, royal; kingly. MYR'-I-AD, numberless. SUG-GEST'-IVE, that which hints, or sug gests. DEIGN'ED, condescended. ["Blessed to give." How does the sun teach this lesson? The rustic flower? The merchant-rain, autumn mist, etc.? Why called the merchant-rain? What lessons from other sources? What exhortation to man in the 5th verse? How is the precept strong, ly enforced? Where is this precept found? What figure of speech occupies each of the first three verses? How may this be shown? (See p. xi.)] LESSON LX. THE RICH MAN AND THE POOR MAN. 1. So goes the world`; if wealthy', you may call This'-friend'; that'-brother'; friends and brothers all. |