Part 11 (1/2)
”Give us what is left!” cried one of the cats, jumping up quickly, and earnestly looking the judge in the face.
”What is left belongs to me,” replied the judge. ”I must be paid for my services in this difficult case.”
He then devoured the last piece, and said:--
”Justice is satisfied, and the court is dismissed.”
The hungry cats went back to the barn wiser than when they came.
They had learned that ill-gotten gains are unprofitable, and that they should never employ the dishonest to adjust their difficulties. They also learned another lesson:--
”The scales of the law are seldom poised till little or nothing remains in either.”
PICTURES IN THE FIRE.
Have you noticed, little children, When the fire is burning low, As the embers flash and darken, How the pictures come and go?
Strange the shapes, and strange the fancies, As beyond the bars you gaze, Bringing back some olden mem'ries, Thoughts of half-forgotten days!
There's the Church across the meadows, Shadow'd by the spreading yew; There's the quaintly-carven pulpit, And the olden oaken pew.
Changed the scene, and on the ocean Sails a s.h.i.+p amid the spray; 'Tis the one you watch'd departing, When some lov'd-one went away!
Yes! and there are faces plenty, Faces dear, both old and young And they cause you to remember Words their lips oft said or sung.
Fancy even brings the voices, Tho' they may be far away; Only pictures, only fancies, Yes! but very sweet are they!
Little Children, let me tell you Tis yourselves who shape the scene!
In your minds a memory lingers, And it peeps the bars between!
If you doubt me, choose a subject, Any one you may desire, And you will, by dint of looking, Find its picture in the fire!
E. Oxenford.
HASTY CHARLIE.
Charlie never could wait. It was no use telling him ”more haste less speed,” ”slow and sure,” or anything of that kind. You might as well talk to the winds. He scrambled up in the morning, scurried over the parts of his toilet that he was trusted to do for himself, hurried over his breakfast, rushed through his lessons, with many mistakes of course, and by his hasty, impatient behavior worried his quiet, gentle little sister Ethel nearly out of her wits, and almost drove patient Miss Smith, the governess, to despair. He burnt his mouth with hot food, because he couldn't wait for it to cool; fell down-stairs, racing down, times out of number; his toys were always getting broken because he couldn't stop to put them away; his canary flew away because he, fuming with impatience about something, neglected to fasten the cage door one day; and indeed s.p.a.ce would fail to tell of all the troubles he brought upon himself by his perpetual, heedless haste.
There were some exceptions to this general state of things. He didn't hurry to begin his lessons,--nor to go to bed. Here he would wait as long as you liked to let him. One thing he was obliged to wait for, sorely against his will, and that was to grow up. It did take such a long time, and oh, the things he meant to do when once he was a man!
Father hoped he would alter a great deal before that time came, for, as he told him, a hasty, impatient man makes other people unhappy and cannot be happy himself.
Charlie meant to have a balloon when he grew up, and a sweet-stuff shop, an elephant, a garden full of apples and plums, a tall black horse, and a donkey.
”You needn't wait so long for the donkey,” Father said one day. ”I have seen a boy with two nice donkeys in Pine-tree Walk; when you and Ethel have been good children at your lessons, Miss Smith shall let you ride them, and when you can ride nicely I will buy you each a donkey of your own.”
Lessons certainly went better after this, and the rides were much enjoyed on every fine day, though timid little Ethel was always just a wee bit afraid at first starting. Miss Smith always safely mounted Ethel first.
”Wait a minute, Charlie!” she said one day, when he was pulling and tugging impatiently at Neddie's bridle, ”we'll have you up directly.”