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 f EDEMTE FIRST READER:! 
 
 COXTAINIXG SELECTIONS IN 
 
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 xcL'lE .: , ^^OETR\., i 
 
 :adixu exeucises for the youkg children in/^ 
 
 THE SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES OF THE vjx 
 
 CONFEDEKATE STATES. 
 
 i[:i)x 
 
 'I 
 
 rUBLlSI.KD LV ui.,;;.:. 
 No. 161, Ma's- S- 
 
 
 ■S^^fi:^-6^^S}?^-^=^ 
 
11£. 
 
 THE ETHEL CARR PEACOCK 
 
 MEMORIAL COLLECTION 
 Afatris amort monumentum 
 
 TKINITY COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 
 DURHAM, N. C. 
 1903 
 
 Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Dred Peacock 
 
 1. 
 
r .^ V 
 
THE 
 
 COiXFEDERATE FIRST READER : 
 
 OONTAINIVO 
 
 SELECTIONS IN PROSE AND POETRY. 
 
 AS READING EXERCISES 
 
 FOR THE YOUNGER CHILDREN 
 
 IN THR 
 
 SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES 
 
 OF THE CONFEDERATE STATES. 
 
 r4 
 
 I ^ RICHMOND, Va. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY G. L. BIDGOOD, 
 1^ No. 121, Main StrMt. 
 
 1864. 
 
Entered according to the Act of Congress of the Confederate 
 States in the year in 1864. 
 
 iLTRBS A WADE, PRINTERS. i-^ [/% 
 
 ? 
 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 This book has been compiled and prepared for the use of 
 children who may have mastered the reading lessons of the 
 spelHng-book. It is more particularly designed as an imme- 
 diate successor, in this respect, to the ''Confederate Spelling 
 Book/' which has been so extensively adopted in the schools 
 of the Confederate States. 
 
 The pieces have been selected with a view to interest and 
 instruct the pupils, and at the same time to elevate their ideas, 
 form correct tastes, and instil proper sentiments. Whatever 
 seems most desirable for these purposes, among the literary 
 materials that have become public property, has been freely 
 appropriated ; suitable articles neither being rejected because 
 familiar to adults, nor novelty sought for its own sake. At 
 the same time, the selections have, by no means, been con- 
 fined to the hackneyed list. It is believed that the exercises 
 thus chosen, are well adapted to the capacity of those for 
 whom they arc designed, and will afford them much more real 
 pleasure, as well as improvement, than the- frivolous sentences 
 which some suppose to be the best entertainment for juveniles. 
 
 • XH^M 
 
TO TEACHERS. 
 
 This book is not designed to supersede the spelling-book, 
 or suspend its use. Its leading purpose is to furnish suitable 
 readiny lessons for young pupils. It is not believed to be ex- 
 pedient to divide the learner's attention with other exercises, 
 which are better pursued separately and in other books. 
 ^'One thing at a time" is sound wisdom in study as in other 
 employments. 
 
 The first thing to be carefully insisted on, in the young 
 reader, is a clear, distinct articulation. This is indispensable 
 to good reading. The habit of indistinct pronunciation is 
 usually contracted in the early lessons of the pupil, and is 
 ever afterwards difficult to overcome. It results from igno- 
 rance of words, or from a drawling, indolent tone, or from a 
 haste which mutilates the words or runs them into each other. 
 
 A monotonous style of reading is another errror into which 
 the young reader is very liable to fi\ll, unless closely watched. 
 To avoid this, the lesson must be so carafully prepared that 
 each word can be readily called at sight. There can be no 
 good reading, and no improvement, where the learner must 
 spell his way. Besides being familiar with the words of the 
 lesson, the pupil musti also understand its import, and catch 
 its spirit. These will go far to ensure an easy utterance and 
 natural tone, and the proper inflection and emphasis. 
 
 It should be borne in mind that a school-reader is not a 
 mere story-book, to be hurried through, as such, and then 
 flung aside for another. ]3ut the lessons are to be re-read and 
 dwelt upon until familiarity and practice, aided by the in- 
 structions of the teacher, shall enable the young learner to 
 give them a correct rendering. 
 
 It is recommended that the lesson be of such length as will 
 permit each pupil to read the whole of it, or at least a large 
 part of it, when the class is called to recite. This repetition 
 will create a wholesome emulation among the pupils, and cause 
 all to profit by the instructions given to each. The teacrier 
 should begin the recitation by reading the lesson to the pupils, 
 calling their attwition to particular points when necessary. 
 
 />>:• . 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PIECES IN PROSE. 
 
 The Bad and Good Readers, . 
 
 The Honest Indian, 
 
 The Young Mouse — A Fable, . . 
 
 The Eagle and the Crow— ^1 Fable, 
 
 The Sparrow and the Hare — A Fable, 
 
 Creation of the World — Bible, 
 
 On Behavior, 
 
 Cruelty Punished, 
 
 Anecdotes of Parrots, . 
 
 Learn to Swim, 
 
 The Eagle and the Cat — ^i Fable, 
 
 The Birth of Jesus — JJible, 
 
 Filial Love Rewarded, 
 
 Musical Mice, .... 
 
 Monkeys and their Tricks, 
 
 The Lion ani the Mouse — ^-1 Fable, 
 
 The Faithful Dog, ■ . 
 
 The Indian and His Dog, 
 
 The Good-Natured Dog, 
 
 The Lark and Her Young Ones — -1 Fable, 
 
 The Ferocious Dog, 
 
 Show and Use — The Two Colts — Evenings at Home, 
 
 How to Tell Bad News — A Dialogue, . 
 
 The Earth and Its Inhabitants, 
 
 Heaven — Mrs. Barbauld, 
 
 The Seasons — Mrs. Barbauld, , 
 
 The Creator Greater than His Works — Mrs. Barbauld, 
 
 The Ten CommandnieDtd — Bible, 
 
 PAGB 
 
 9 
 11 
 12 
 13 
 14 
 15 
 16 
 17 
 18 
 20 
 21 
 23 
 23 
 25 
 26 
 28 
 29 
 30 
 32 
 32 
 35 
 36 
 38 
 39 
 41 
 42 
 43 
 45 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 AH for the Best, 
 
 The Good Boy, 
 
 Th« Good Girl, 
 
 Description of Heaven — Bible, 
 
 The Good Samaritan — Bible, . 
 
 Crucifixion of Christ — Bible, . 
 
 The Wise Bird and the Foolish Ones — A Fable, 
 
 The Boasting Girl and the Conceited Pigeon, 
 
 The Echo, 
 
 Against Persecution — Franklin , 
 
 The Prodigal Son — Bible, 
 
 How to Make the Best of It — Eveiiings at Home, 
 
 The Discontented Mole — ^4 Fable, 
 
 The French Youth , 
 
 The Day of Judgment— ^^'J^e, 
 
 The Whistle — Franklin, 
 
 Industry Rewarded — Berguin, 
 
 Mungo Park's Travels in Africa, 
 
 The Wonderful Chip, . 
 
 A Pleasant Surprise — From- the German, 
 
 The Lion, 
 
 The Chinese Prisoner^-i'erctya/, 
 
 Heroism of a Peasant, 
 
 The Resurrection and Ascension of Christ — Bible, 
 
 Ninetieth Psalm — Bible, 
 
 Abraham's Plea in Behalf of Sodom — Bible, 
 
 Judah's Supplication to Joseph for the Liberation of Ben 
 
 jamin — Bible, ..... 
 
 Joseph makes Himself known to his Brethren — Bible, 
 The Tutor and his Pupils, or Use Your Eyea — Aikin, 
 Little John and his Bowl of Milk, 
 The Little Violet—^ Fable, .... 
 A Friend in Need — Eoenings at Homa, 
 Christian and Hopeful conducted into Heaven by the An 
 
 gels — PilgrivCs Froyress, . . , , 
 
 118 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ni 
 
 PIECES IN POETRY. 
 
 The Little Fish— ^ Fahle, 
 
 God Sees Me, 
 
 The Robin, 
 
 The Squirrel, 
 
 The Bible, 
 
 Uses of Arithmetic, 
 
 Similes — Unknown, , , 
 
 Trust in Providence, 
 
 The Way to be Happj — Janf' Taylor, 
 
 Early Piety— Waifs, 
 
 Employment, 
 
 To the Lady-Bird — Mrs. Southey, 
 
 Old Cato, 
 
 Kind Words, 
 
 The Ant Hill, . 
 
 God Seen in All Things — Moore., 
 
 Contented John— Jiawe Taylor, 
 
 Gratitude, 
 
 The Christian Race — Doddridge, 
 
 The Old Horse, 
 
 Heavenly Pest — Anonymous, 
 
 The Rose — Cowper, 
 
 Elejy on Madam Blaize — Cowper, 
 
 The Dangers of Life — 3Irs. Barbanld, 
 
 The Ant and the Glovr-Worm — A Fable — Anonymous 
 
 The Hare and the Tortoise — A Fable, 
 
 The Little Lord and the Farmer's Boy, 
 
 The Better Land — 3Irs. Remans, 
 
 The Eyes and the Nose — Cowper ^ . , 
 
 The Battle of Blenheim — Southey, . , 
 
 The Doomed Man — JJr. Alexander, . , 
 
 My Life is like the Summer Rose — Wilde, 
 
 The Fall of the Leaf, .... 
 
 The Spider and the Fly — A Fable — Mary Howitt, 
 
 The Cuckoo — Logan, .... 
 
 Signs of Rain — Jenner, 
 
 Th« Meeting of th» Wattri — Moore, 
 
Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Not Ashamed of Jesus — Grigg, 
 
 Destruction of Sennacherib — Byron^ 
 
 Turn the Carpet— ^awwa/t More, 
 
 The Sluggard — Watta, 
 
 What is that, Mother l—Doane, 
 
 Casabianca — Mrs. Hemam, 
 
 All Nature attests the Creator, 
 
 The Blind Boy and his Sister, 
 
 The Dying Christian to his ^oxxl—Pope, 
 
 PAGE 
 93 
 
 94 
 dQ 
 101 
 106 
 109 
 113 
 116 
 120 
 
 J 
 
THE 
 
 CONFEDERATE FIRST HEADER. 
 
 The Bad au'J Good Readers. 
 
 King Fiederiek wfjs ouo day .sitting in his palace, when a 
 petition was placed in bis bauds. The King's eyes being dim, 
 he called upon one of bis pages to read it to bim. 
 
 The boy was the son of a nobleman, but be w-as a poor 
 reader. He pronounced bis words badly, and hurried rapidly 
 over them, in a dismal, sing-song tone. " Stop," said the King; 
 " I cannot understand what you are reading. • Send me some 
 one else.'' 
 
 Another page now came forward ] but be coughed, and 
 hemmed, and cleared his throat, and uttered his words with, 
 a great swelling sound, and drawled them out so slowly, that 
 the King took the paper from bim^ and told bim to go out o^ 
 the room. 
 
 A little girl, whom ibe King saw helping ber fa'tber to 
 weed the flower-beds, v/as next called for, to see if she could 
 lead the petition. She first olanced ber eyes over it, and 
 then read it aloud. 
 
 It was from a poor widow, whose busband bad been killed 
 in battle, and whose only son was now sent for, to serve in the 
 army. As the sou's health was very delicate, she begged the 
 King to let bim stay at home, and follow bis business as a 
 portrait- painter. 
 
 The little girl read the petition witb such distinct pronun- 
 ciation, and such natural tones, and witb so much grace and 
 feeling, that tears were standing in the King's eyes when she 
 concluded. '< Oh, now I know what it is about!" gaid he; 
 2 
 
lO THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 *^ but I never would have knon-u, if the young men had read 
 it to me.'' 
 
 The Kinjx then sent the little girl to tell the mother that 
 her request was granted. He also employed the young man 
 to paint his own portrait. The King likewise made the little 
 girl's father, his chicf-gurdener; and as for her, lie caused her 
 to be well educated at his own ex])ense. Tlj^ two pages he 
 dismissed from his service for a year, and told them to employ 
 the time in learning to read. 
 
 Let all the children who may read the lessons in this book, 
 study them well, and try to read like the little girl, and not 
 like the two pages. 
 
 The Little Fish. —A Fahh. 
 
 *' Dear mother," said a little fish, 
 
 " Pray, is not that a fly ? 
 I'm very hungry, and I wish, 
 
 You'd lot me go and try." 
 " Sweet innocent," the mother cried, 
 
 And started from her nook, 
 *' That seeming fly is made to hide 
 
 The sharpness of the hook." 
 
 Now, I have heard this little trout 
 
 Was young and fo)lish too; 
 And so he thought he'd venture out, 
 
 To see if it were true. 
 And round about the bait lie played, 
 
 AVith many a longing look; 
 And, " dear me," to himself he said, 
 
 "I'm sure that's not a hook." 
 
 " T can but give one little bite," 
 
 Said he, '' and so I will." 
 So on he went, when lo ! it quite 
 
 Stuck through his little gill. 
 And as he faint, and fainter, grew, 
 
 With hollow voice he cried, 
 *' Dear mother, had I minded you, 
 
 I should not now have died." 
 
tllE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. U 
 
 The Ilonesi LnJiaii. 
 
 An Indian once met one of his wliite friends, who lived in a 
 village not fur from the Indian's wigwam, and asked him for 
 a little tobacco to smoke in his pipe. The white man took a 
 handful of loose tobacco out of his pocket, and gave it to him. 
 
 The next day the Indian came to the village, and en([uired 
 for the gentleman. who had given him the tobacco. He said 
 he had found a piece of money in the tobacco, and he wished 
 to restore it to the owner. 
 
 The person to whom he addressed himself, told him the 
 money was his, for it had been given to him; and that he 
 ought to keep it, and not say any thing about it. But this 
 advice did not please the honest Indian. 
 
 He pointed to his breast and said : " I got a good man, and 
 a bad man in here. The good'man say, ' ^J'his money is not 
 yours ; you must return it to the owner.' The bad man say, 
 ' It Ks yours ; for he gave it to you.' The good man say, 
 'That is not right; he gave you the tobacco, but not the 
 money.' The bad man say, ' Never mind, you got it ; go buy 
 some dram.' The irood man say, ' No, no, you must not do 
 so.' " 
 
 " So I don't know what to do, <aud I try to go to sleep; but 
 the'good man and the bad man kept talking all night, and 
 trouble me ; and now I bring the money back I feel good.'' 
 
 God Sees Me. 
 
 God can see mc every day ; 
 When I work and when I play, 
 When I read and when I talk, 
 When I run and when I walk. 
 When I eat and when I drink, 
 When I sit and when I think, 
 When I laugh and when I cry, 
 God is ever watching nigh. 
 
 When I'm quiet, when I'm rude, 
 When I'm naughty, when I'm good, 
 When I'm happy, when I'm sad. 
 When I'm sorry, when I'm giad, 
 
 i 
 
12 THE CONFEDEllATK FIRST READEK. 
 
 When I pluck the sccutcd rose, 
 That iu the pretty pirden grows, 
 When I crush the little; fly, 
 God is watching from the sky. 
 
 When the sun gives heat and light, 
 When the stars are twinkliuj^ bright, 
 ^Vlicn the moon shines on my bod, 
 God still watches o'er my head. 
 Night or day, at church or fair, "* 
 God is ever, ever near, 
 IMarking all I do or say, 
 Pteady for the judgment Jay. 
 
 The Young Mouse. — A F<thli\ 
 
 A young mouse once lived in a house-keeper's pantry, and 
 had a nice time there.. Every day she dined on bi;?cuit, or 
 cold ham, or sugar; and often she got a taste of the sweet- 
 meats. Sometimes she would [leep into the diniug-room; 
 but when the cat was there, she would hasten back to her 
 Ijole, dreadfully frightened. 
 
 One day, the young mouse came running to her mother in 
 great joy. " Mother," said she, " the good people of the family 
 have built me a house to live in, and they have placed it in 
 the pantry. I am sure it is for me, for it is just big enough. 
 The bottom is of wood, and it is covered all over with wires. 
 I suppose they put the wires there to screen me from that 
 ugly cat. 
 
 *'And, mother, there is a little door, just big enough for 
 me to go in. And they have put some nice cheese inside, just 
 for me ; and it smells so nice, that I could scarcely keep from 
 going in, and taking possession. J5ut, mother, 1 thought I 
 would run and tell 3'^ou, so that we might go in toother, and 
 stay there to-night; for it is big enough to hold us both." 
 
 "My dear child," said the mouse, " it is happy for you that 
 you did not enter. This house, as you call it, is a trap, put 
 there to catch you ; and if you had entered it, you would never 
 have come out again, except to be fed to the cat, or killed in 
 some other way. Let this teach you never to trust to appear- 
 ances, and always to ask the advice of older persons." 
 
 r*- '^ 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. " ^3 
 
 The Uohin. 
 
 Away, pretty robin, fly home to your nest ; 
 
 To make you my captive, I sti-il should like best, 
 
 And feed you with worms and with bread. 
 Your eyes are so sparkling, your leathers so soft, 
 Your little wings flutter so pretty aloft. 
 
 And your breast is all colored with red. 
 
 But then 'twould be eruel to keep you, I know ; 
 So stretch out your wings, little robin, and go; 
 
 Fly home to your young ones again. 
 Go lii^ten again to the notes of your mate, 
 And enjoy the green shade in your lonely retreat, 
 
 Secure from the wind and the rain. 
 
 But when the leaves fall, and the winter winds blow, 
 And the green fields are covered all over v/ ith snow, 
 
 And the clouds in white feathers descend ; 
 When the springs are all ice, and the rivulets freeze, 
 And the long, shining icicles drop from the trees, 
 
 Then, robin, remember your friend ! 
 
 When with cold and with hunger, f(uite perished and weak, 
 Come tap at my window again with your beak. 
 
 Ami gladly I'll let you come in. 
 You shall fly to my bosom or perch on ray thumbs. 
 Or hop round the table and pidc up the crumbs, 
 
 And never be hungry again. 
 
 The Eatjle auil (lu: Croo:. — A Fable. 
 
 A hungry eagle gazed down upon a flock of sheep, and se- 
 lecting a nice lamb, swooped upon him, and bore him away 
 bleating, to the forest, before the shepherd could do any thing 
 to prevent it. 
 
 A crow that was sitting in a tree, near by, saw what had 
 pa.ssed, and was filled with admiration at the action of the 
 eagle. Ho resolved that he would be a grand bird, too, and 
 pounce down upon the flock, as the eagle had done. 
 
 The crow accordingly selected the old bcH-wethcr of the 
 
14: TnK CONTEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 flock, and darted upon him, fastened his claws in his wool, and 
 attempted to fly away witli him. lie might as well have tried 
 to fly away with the .State Iljouse. 
 
 The shoph-'rd was much amused at the silly crow, for he 
 knew he could do no harm. lie now went and caught him as 
 he was entangled in the w<iol of the sheep; and he clipped 
 his winprs, and gave him to his children fur th«'ir amuscmcut. 
 
 This fahle teaches us not to attempt what is beyond our 
 capacity. 
 
 TIi€ Sparrow iiit<l the Hare. — .1 Fnhlr. , 
 
 A hare, on heing seized by an eagle, raised the most pite- 
 ous cries; for ho knew that the engle would soon tear him to 
 pieces, and devour him. 
 
 A F]tarrow that was sitling upon a tree close by, and saw 
 what had h:.j»pened, began to make sport of the poor hare, 
 and to laugh at his distress. '< Why," said she, ''do you sit 
 there and be killed, my fine fellow ? I'p and away, 1 tell 
 you ! I am sure if you would try, so swift a creature as you 
 are, could easily escape from an eagle." 
 
 As the sparrow was proceeding with this cruel raillery, 
 there came a hawk and pounced down upon her, and com- 
 menced immediately to pick her feathers off, so that he might 
 cat her. 
 
 The sparrow, tuo, now began to cry for merc-y; but the 
 hawk paid no attention to her; and the hare, which wjis just 
 expiring, called to the sparrow and said, "Just now, you in- 
 sulted me in my misfortune, and thought your-^elf very secure. 
 Please show us how well you can bear the like; now that 
 ealamity has overtaken you aNo." 
 
 This fable teaches us to sympathi/e wilh the unfortunate, 
 and never to make sport of their distresses. 
 
 TliC Squirrel. 
 
 The squirrel is happy, the sijuirrel is gay, 
 ]jittle Henry exclaimed to his brother. 
 
 He has nothing to do, or to think of, but play, 
 And to jumj) from one bough to another. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. * 15 
 
 But William was older and wiser, and knew 
 That all play, and no work, would not answer; 
 
 So he asked what the squirrel, in winter, would do, 
 If he spent all the summer a dancer. 
 
 The squirrel, dear Henry, is merry and wise, 
 For true wisdom and mirth go together. 
 
 He lays up, in summer, his winter supplies, 
 And then he don't mind the cold weather. 
 
 Creation of the World. 
 
 In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth. 
 
 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness 
 was upon the face of the deep : and the spirit of Grod moved 
 upon the face of the waters. 
 
 And God said, Let there be light : and there was light. 
 
 And God saw the light that it was good : and God divided 
 the light from the darkness. 
 
 And God called the light day, and the darkness be called 
 night. 
 
 And God made two great lights ; the greater light to rule 
 the day, and the lesser light to rule the night. He made the 
 stars also. 
 
 And God created great whales, and every living creature 
 tliat moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly after 
 their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind. 
 
 And God made the beasts of the earth after his kind, and 
 rattle alter their kina, find every thing that creepeth upon 
 the earth, after his kind. 
 
 And the Lord God formed man out of the dust of the 
 ground, and ])rcathcd into his nostrils the breath of life; and 
 man became a living soul. 
 
 And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden ; 
 and there he put the man whom he had formed. 
 
 And out of the ground, made the J^ord (Jod to grow every 
 tree that is pkasant to the sight, and good for food ; the tree 
 of life also in tlic midst of the garden, and the tree of knowl- 
 edge of good and evil. 
 
Ig THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 • 
 
 And out of the ground, the Lord God formed every beaSt 
 of the field, and every fowl of the air. 
 
 And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the 
 air, and to ever}'- beast of the field. 
 
 And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam^ 
 and he slept ; and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the 
 flesh instead thereof. 
 
 And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, 
 made he a woman, and brought her unto the man 
 
 And Adam said, This is now bone of my boncs^ and flesh 
 of my flesh. .She shall be called w^oman^ because tihc wa? 
 taken out of man. 
 
 O/i Behavior. 
 
 Do not stare at any one; for to do £>o, is a mark of rudeness 
 and impudence. 
 
 Do not be forward to speak, when strangers or older persons 
 are present. 
 
 Do not interrupt a person while he is speaking ; but listen 
 with attention and politeness, until he has finished. 
 
 Never whisper in company while others are conversing; for 
 it is very rude and impolite to do so. 
 
 Be always respectful and obedient, to your parents and 
 teachers, and to ail who have the care of you. 
 
 Be aff'ftctionate to your friends, and kind and obliging to 
 every body. 
 
 Never lose your temper with your playmates, or use rough 
 words to thcni. 
 
 Do not rudely contradict any one; or use such angry ex- 
 pressions as I I'yill, or I wortf, or you slihn't. 
 
 Always be very respectful to aged people, and to ladies ; 
 and render them attentions whenever there is opportunity. 
 
 Do not make sport of the lame, or the afflicted; but rather 
 feel sorry for them, and show them kindness. 
 
 Do not be harsh, without cause, to servants, or those 6ver 
 wh )m you have authority. It is wrong to impose upon the 
 helpless. 
 
 Remember that to be a gentleman, a person must have a 
 kind heart; and be of gentle behavior; and polite manners. . 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER, 17 
 
 The Bible. 
 
 Holy Bible, book divine, 
 Precious treasure, thou art mine ! 
 MiDe to tell me whence T came, 
 Mine to teach me what I am; 
 
 Mine to chide mo when I rove, 
 Mine to show a Saviour's loye; 
 Mine art thou to guide my youth, 
 In the paths of love and truth; 
 
 IMine to comfort in distress, ^ 
 
 If the Holy Spirit bless; 
 Mine to show by living faith, 
 Man can triumph over death. 
 
 Ceuelty Punished. 
 
 ■ A chiir.ney-sweep was sitting on the steps of a house in 
 London, eating a loaf of bread, which somebody had given 
 him. ' A little dog stood near him, looking. very wishfully at 
 the bread, and bee:ging for a piece, by all the signs which 
 nature has taught dogs to make. 
 
 The boy took a delight in teasing the dog. lie would hold 
 out a piece of bread to him, and just as the animal was about 
 to take hold of it, he would jerk it back. 
 
 At last the dog was too quick for the boy, and seized the 
 bread before he could withdraw it. The cruel boy, thereupon, 
 gave the dog a kick under the mouth, tHat sent him away 
 yelping with pain. 
 
 A gentleman on the other side of the street had witnessed 
 th§ conduct of the boy, and though't he would give hiui a les- 
 son that would make him reflect upon his cruelty, and teack 
 him to do better in future. So he held out a piece of money, 
 and beckoned to the boy to come over and get it. 
 
 The boy ran across the street, and eagerly held out his h:iud 
 
 to take hold of the mopey. But the gentleman, instead of 
 
 letting him take it, gave him a severe rap over the knuckles 
 
 with his cane, whiuh made brim roar with pain. 
 
 «^* - 
 
18 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 • 
 "What did you do that for?" cried the boy. "Did you not 
 offer me the money?" 
 
 "What did you hurt the dog for?" replied the gentlemfln. 
 "Did you not offer hiin tlie bread ? I have done this to show 
 you how badly you treated the poor dog, and to put you in 
 mind, never to act in such a manner again. For you must re- 
 member that dumb animals can feel as well as boys." 
 
 Uses of Arithmetic. 
 
 John wants to know, what three times, three, 
 Added to live times two, may be. 
 Long has he puzzled o'er the sum, 
 ISqx finds to what amount they come : 
 Yet he is old enough to know 
 Much more, and I must tell him so. 
 Let us ask Charles, for he can count, 
 And soon will tell us the amount. 
 
 Well, three times three are nine, he says; 
 And five times two_, are ten, always. 
 When ten and nine are thus combined, 
 Nineteeu's the number we shall find. 
 We ought to add up quick and well, 
 That what we spend, our books may tell, 
 And make us saving, to this end, 
 That we may give, as well as spend. 
 
 Anecdofe.^ of Parrot.^. 
 
 !E^arrots may be taught to utter a great many words and sen- 
 tences; and they often use them so appropriately, that they 
 almost seem to be gifted with reason. 
 
 A gentleman once had a ^larrot that, every tnorning, would 
 say to the servant, "Sally, Poll wants her breakfast;" and in 
 the evening would say, "Sally, Poll wants her tea;" without 
 ever making a mistake. "W'henfcvej" she saw her master com- 
 ing, she would feiiy, "How do you do, Mr. Andersdn ?/*' 
 
 This parrot would whistle up tte dogs, and drop bread out 
 
THE CON-FEDERATE FIRST READER. 19 
 
 of her cage to them ; but when the dogs rushed up to get it, 
 she would scream at them, "Get out, dogs !" and make them 
 run awa.j. She would then huigh at them, and seem to be 
 highly delighted at the trick she had played them. 
 
 There is a story told of a parrot that belonged to a king. 
 One day a hawk caught her, and was bearing her away, when 
 the parrot cried out, "Poll is a-riding I" This frightened the 
 hawk, and he dropped the parrot. Unfortunately they were 
 just over a river, so that the parrot fell into the water and was 
 in danger of drowning. '' 
 
 As soon as the parrot found herself in the river, she cried 
 out, " Twent}^ pounds for a boat I" A boatman, who was near 
 by, rescued her. and, carrying her to the king, demanded the 
 promised reward. The king told him he asked too much ; 
 but as the boatman insisted that the parrot had offered it, the 
 king said he would leave it to the parrot to say liow much he 
 should pay him. As soon % he had said this^ the parrot 
 spoke up and said, " Give the knave a groat I" 
 
 Simi/efi 
 
 As proud as a p'" acock — as round as a pea; 
 As blithe as a lark — as brisk as a bee. 
 As light as a feather — as sure as a gun ; 
 As green as the grass — as brown as a bun. 
 
 As ricti as a Jew — as warm as a toast; 
 As cross as two sticks — as deaf as a post. 
 As sharp as a needle — as strong as an ox ; 
 As grave as a jwdge — as sly as a fox. 
 
 As old as the hills — as straight as a dart; 
 As still as the grave — as swift as a hart. 
 As solid as marble — as firm as a rock ; 
 As soft as a plum — as dull as a block. 
 
 As pale as a lily — as blind |is a bat ; 
 As white as a sheet — as black as my hat. 
 As yellow as gold — as rtjd as a cherry ; 
 As wet as water — as brown aB a berry. 
 
20 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 As plain as a pikestaff — as big as a house ; 
 As fiat as a table — as sleek as a mouse. 
 As tall as a steeple — as round as a cheese ; 
 As broad as 'tis long— as long as .you please. 
 
 Learn io Sichn. 
 
 Every body should learn to swim. It is not only a delight- 
 ful exercise, but, by being able to swim, a person may some- 
 times save his own life, or that of another. 
 
 An amusing stoi-y is told of a man, Avho had become so 
 learned that he was called a philosopher; but who had not 
 paid proper intention to other things. He was crossing a 
 river ' in a ferry-boat, at a place where the passage was not 
 safe; but he was thinking only d^*his books, and of the pleas- 
 ure which they gave him. 
 
 On the way across the river, the philosopher asked the 
 ferryman, if he understood arithmetic. The man answered, 
 that he had never heard of such a thing before. The phi- 
 losopher told him he was very sorry, for he had lost a quarter 
 of his life by his ignorance.' • 
 
 The philosopher then asked him, if he had learned mathe- 
 matics. The boatman smiled, and said he knew nothing 
 about it. The philosopher told him another quarter of his 
 life had been lost. 
 
 The philosopher then put a third question to the boatman, 
 and asked hin* if he understood astronomy. •The boatman 
 told him no ] that he had never head of it before. The phi- 
 losopher replied, that another quarter of his life had been lost. 
 
 Just at this moment the boat ran on a snag, and began to 
 sink. The ferryman threw oif his coat, and got ready to save* 
 himself by swimming. He then turned to the philosopher, 
 and asked him if he had learned to swim. The philosopher 
 told him he knew nothing about it. '^ Then,^' said the boat- 
 man, " the whole of your life is lost, for the boat is going to 
 the bottom." 
 
 And so, indeed, the phUpsopher's life would have been lost, 
 if the boatman had not saved him; and the philosoplicr saw 
 that a knowh^dge of swimming was of more value at that 
 time, than all his arithmetic, and mathematics, and astrouomy. 
 
THE CONFEDEUATE FIRST READER. 21 
 
 We must remember from this, that while vre should learn 
 all we can, and become as wise as possible, we must not neglect 
 common thin<2;s. 
 
 Trust in Pruiidencc. 
 
 My times ol' sorrow, and of joy, 
 
 Great God, arc in thv hand ! 
 Isly choicest comforts come from Thee, 
 
 And go at thy command. 
 
 Though thou shouldst take them all away, 
 
 Yet would I not repine. 
 Before they were possessed by me, 
 
 They were entirely thine. 
 
 The world, with all its glittering storer-^, 
 
 Is but a bitter sweet; 
 When I attempt to pluck a rose,- 
 
 A prickling thorn I meet. 
 
 ?\o peifect bliss can here be found; 
 
 The honey is mixed with gall. 
 '3J.idst' changing scenes, and dying friends, 
 
 Be Thou, my all in all ! 
 
 The Eagle and the C<M. — A Fahle. 
 
 One day, an eagle, that was flying along, high in the air, 
 saw whUt he supposed to be a fine, plump hare, sleeping on a 
 bank in the sunshine. 
 
 "Aha : m}' tine fellow,'' said the eagle, *' you are the very 
 thing I am looking for. I will spoil your nap for you very 
 quickly, and you shall make me a nice dinner." 
 
 So he immediately pounced down, swift as an arrow, on the 
 sleeping animal, stuck his sharp claws in his back, and rose 
 ag^in in the air, ^nd st^'rtcd to fly away with hiia to a hill 
 top, where he intended to eat hirn. 
 
 But it was a very little time before the eagle found out 
 
22 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 that he had made a great mistake. Instead of a hare, that 
 could do nothinir but cry for mercy, he liad caught a cat, with 
 sharp teeth, and with claws as keen as his own. 
 
 The cat was very much surprised, when it first woke up, to 
 find itself pinched so in the back, and flying through tlie air 
 and over the tree tops, so very rapidly. But it soon found 
 out what was the matter, and so it laid hold of the eagle with 
 might and main. 
 
 The eagle was now the one to be surprised ; and he begged 
 the cat's pardon, and said if the cat would let him go, he would 
 let the cat go. But the cat would not agree to that ; for he 
 was not willing to fall from a such a height. So he made the 
 eagle fly back, and put him down safely on the same bank 
 where he had found him; and the eagle was glad enough to 
 get rid of the cat on these terms. 
 
 Sometimes, persons who attempt to injure others, And them- 
 selves as much mistaken as the eagle was, when he flew upon 
 the cat. 
 
 The Way to he Happy. 
 
 How pleasant it is, at the end of the day^ 
 
 Xo follies to have to repent ; 
 But reflect on the past, and be able to say, 
 
 That my time has been properly spent. 
 
 When TVe done all my business with patience and care, 
 And been good, aftd obliging, and kind, 
 
 I lie on my pillow, and sleep away there, 
 With a happy and peaceable mind. 
 
 But instead of all this, if it must be confen.srd, 
 
 That I, careless and idle, have been ; 
 I lie down as usual, and go to my rei-it. 
 
 But feel discontented within. 
 
 Then, as I don't like all the trouble I've had. 
 
 In future, I'll try to prevent it; 
 For I hcvoi am nau:,^iiry without being sad, 
 
 Or good without being con tented. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 23 
 
 The Blrdi of Jesus. 
 
 And there were in the same country, shepherds abiding in 
 the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 
 
 And, lo, the augel of the Lord came upon them, and the 
 glory of the Lord shone round about them ; and they were 
 sore afVcfid. 
 
 And the angel said unto them, I'^ear not: for, behold, I 
 bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all 
 people. 
 
 For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a 
 Saviour, wliieh is Christ the Lord. 
 
 And this shall be a sign unto you : Ye shall find the babe 
 wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 
 
 And suddenly there was with the angel, a multitude of the 
 heavenly host, praising God, and saying. 
 
 Glory to (rod in the highest, and oH earth peace, good will 
 towards men. 
 
 And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away fi*om 
 them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us 
 now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is 
 come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. 
 
 And they came with haste, and found Mary and Joseph, 
 and the babe lying in a manger. 
 
 And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the 
 saying which wais told them concerning this child. 
 
 Filial Love Rewarded. 
 
 Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, rung his bell cue 
 day, but nobody answered. lie looked into the room where 
 the youth whom he had for a page, was usually in waiting, 
 and found him fast asleep on a sofa. 
 
 The King was goin^ to awake him, when ho perceived the 
 end of a letter projecting from his pocket. Being curious to 
 know its contents, he took the letter and read ^. It was a 
 letter from liis mother, thanking him for sending hei' so large 
 a part of his wages, to assist her in her distress; and it con- 
 cluded by praying God to bless him, for his filial afctcutiou to 
 her wantt. 
 
 The King was muoh pleased with the letter, and was glad 
 
24: THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 to find that Ivis page was so affectionate and dutiful a son. He 
 returned softly to his room and ppt a purse of money, and 
 then came back, and slipped both the purse and the letter, 
 into the page's pocket. He then returned to his own room 
 again, and rung the bell so violently that the page awoke, and 
 came to him. 
 
 " You have slept well !" said the King. The page was 
 very much confused, ani made an apology; but, in his em- 
 barrassment, he happened to put his hand into his pocket, 
 and thus discovered the purse of money. He drew it out, 
 turned pale, and, looking at the King, he burst into tears, 
 without being able to speak a word. 
 
 ^'What is the matter?" asked the King. ''What ails 
 you?" ''Ah sire," said the youth, throwing himself at his 
 feet, " somebody wishes to ruin me I I do not know how this 
 money came into my pocket." 
 
 The King kindly told him to give himself no uneasiness, 
 but to send the money to his mother. He also said, " Tell 
 her I am glad she has so dutiful a sou; and assure her, in my 
 name, that I will take care both of her and you." 
 
 EarJij Plclij. 
 
 Happy the child, whose tender years, 
 
 Receive instruction well ; 
 Who hates the sinner's path and fears, 
 
 The road that leads to hell. 
 
 When we devote our youth to God, 
 
 ^ Tis pleasing in His eyes ; 
 A flower, when offered in the bud, 
 
 Is no vain sacrifice. 
 
 ' Tis easier work, if we begin 
 To fear the Lord betimes ; • 
 
 While sinners, that grow old in sin, 
 iirc hardened in their crimes. 
 
 ' Twill save us from a thousand snares, 
 
 Tq mind religioTi young ; 
 Grace will improve our followiog ye'ars, 
 
 And make our virtue strong. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST BEADER. 25 
 
 To Thee, Almighty God, to Thee, 
 
 Our childhood we resign ! 
 'Twill please us to look back and see, 
 
 That our whole lives were thine I 
 
 Let the sweet work of prayer and praise^ 
 
 Employ my youthful breath; 
 Thus I'm prepared for length of days. 
 
 Or fit for early death. 
 
 Mucical Mice. 
 
 9 
 
 Mice are sometimes very fond of music, and it has a won- 
 derful effect upon them. It takes away all their fear of peo- 
 ple, and sometimes makes them play very curious antics. 
 
 A gentleman of Norfolk City, in Virginia, was once sitting 
 alone in his chamber, playing his flute. In a few minutes, he 
 saw a little mouse creep out of his hole, and advance towards 
 the chair in which he was sitting. Whenever the irentleman 
 stopped playing, the mouse would run into his hole ; but it 
 would come back7whcn he heard the flute again. 
 
 The actions of the mouse, while listening to the music, were 
 very amusing. It would shut its eyes, crouch on the floor, 
 and seem to be in an ecstasy of delight. At last it went 
 away, and the gentleman never saw it again. 
 
 There was once a mouse of this sort, on board an English 
 ship. One of the oflicers was playing a plaintive air on the 
 violin, when the mouse ran out into the middle of the floor, 
 and began to cut the most violent capers. It leaped about as 
 if it were frantic with jo}^; and it became more and more 
 violent every moment, until it finally fell down, and died from 
 the excitement. 
 
 A gentleman, of Virginia, was one day amusing himself by 
 playing some airs upon the piano, when a little mouse came 
 out to listen. It was so much pleased, that it approached 
 nearer; and finally it climbed up on the gentleman's shoulder, 
 and then out on his arm, where it sat still, and allowed him 
 to take it in his hand, and put it in his pocket. 
 
 There are nuiny other animals that are much affected by 
 music. Snakes have been charmed by it ; and a negro man 
 once kept a pack of wolves from eating him up, by playing 
 the fiddfe to them. 
 
26 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 Emploj/ment. 
 
 Who'll come and play with me under the tree? 
 
 My sisters have left me alone ; 
 My sweet little sparrow, come hither to me, 
 
 And play with me while they are gone. 
 
 no, little Anna, I can't come indeed, 
 
 I've no time to idle away. 
 I've got all my dear little children to feed, 
 
 And my nest to new cover with hay. 
 
 Pretty bee, do not buzz about over the flower, 
 But come here and play with me now ; * 
 
 The sparrow won't come and stay with me an hour, 
 But say, pretty bee — wilt not thou 't 
 
 no, little Anna, for dost thou not see. 
 
 Those must work who would prosper and thrive ? 
 If I play, they will call me a sad idie bee. 
 And perhaps turn rae out of the hive. 
 
 Stop ! stop ! little ant, do not run off so fast, 
 Wait with me a little, and play : 
 
 1 hope I shall find a companion at last ] 
 
 Thou art not so busy as they. 
 
 no, little Anna, T can't stay with thee ; 
 
 We're not made to play, but to labor. 
 There is always something or other for mo 
 
 To do for myself, or a neighbor. 
 
 What, then, have they all some employment but me. 
 Who la}' lounging here like a dunce ? 
 
 O then, like the ant, and the sparrow, and bee, 
 I'll go to my lesson at once. 
 
 Monkeys and their Tricks, 
 
 Monkeys are very cunning and miscliievous little animals, 
 that are found in warm countries. They liave a face some- 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 27 
 
 thing like a man's, and they can use their fore-feet for hands. 
 They have long tails, with which they swing to trees, and 
 they are reniarkubl}^ active. 
 
 Monkeys are great rogues. The wild monkeys frequently 
 plunder the gardens of persons, who live near the forests 
 which they infest. When they go on these stealing expedi-- 
 tious, they place some of their number to act 'as sentinels, so 
 that it is very^ hard to creep upon them. 
 
 Monkey^ are very easily tamed, and afford a great deal of 
 amusement by their cunning tricks ; but they have to be 
 watched very closely, for they are nlways in some mischief. 
 They will catch the cat and use her claws to pull chestnuts 
 out of the tiro. They will snatch things out of the pot if the 
 cook turns her back, and they are constantly trying to imitate 
 every thing they see others do. 
 
 There was once on board a ship, an African monkey named 
 Jack, that gave great amusement to the passengers and sailors. 
 The first thing he would do in the morning, was to upset the 
 parrot's cage, and make the lump of sugar roll out, when he 
 would instantly catch it up and eat it. 
 
 He would snatch the caps off the sailors' heads, and if they 
 were not very quick, would throw them overboard. AVheu 
 the cook was preparing breakfast, he would sit near the grate, 
 and watch his chance to steal something. He sometimes 
 burnt his fingers by these rogueries, but it did not cure him 
 oi' them. 
 
 The captain would sometimes turn the ship's pigs on deck, 
 that they might run about for exercise. This was always a 
 grand time for Jack. He would spring upon the pigs' backs, 
 and ride them all over the ship. The pigs would be very 
 much frighloncd, and run with all their might. Sometimes 
 they would upset Jack, and then the sailors would laugh at 
 liini, which he did not like. 
 
 There was a little black monkey on board the same ship. 
 Jack caught him one day, and painted him. He held him 
 by the back of tlie neck with one hand, and with the other, 
 he took the painter's brush,. and covered him all over with 
 white paint. Jack was so afraid that the captain would whip 
 him for this, that he scampered up to the maintop, and staid 
 there three days before he would come down. A lady, how- 
 ever, who was on board, persuaded the captain to pardon 
 him; and so Jack escaped the punishment which he knew he 
 deserved. 
 
* 28 * THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 The Lion and the Mouse. — A Fahle. 
 
 A lion lay sleeping in the forest one day, when gome mice 
 began to amuse themselves by running over him. He sud- 
 denly roused, and catching at a mouse that did not get away 
 as quickly as the others, he seized him in his paw, and was 
 about to kill h;m. 
 
 The poor mouse was terribly alarmed, and begged hard for 
 his life. The lion looked at the little trembler,,and like a 
 noble animal, thought it would be a discreditable thing for 
 one so big as he, to hurt one so small as the mouse. So he 
 generously forgave the mouse for his mischief, and told him 
 to go free. The mouse lost no time, but scampered away as 
 fast as he could. 
 
 It happened a few days afterwards, that the lion was hunt- 
 ing in the same woods. While he was not watching his steps 
 very closely, he got entangled in a net, which a cunning 
 hunter had set for him. He was now as much frightened as 
 the little mouse had been, and he roared with terror. 
 
 The mouse heard him, and knew by his voice, that it was 
 the same lion which had given him his life. He immediately 
 hurried to the lion's assistance, as fast as his little legs could 
 carry him. When he saw what was the matter, he told the 
 lion not to be uneasy, for he would soon set him free.' 
 
 So the mouse went to work with his sharp little teeth, and 
 soon gnawed the cords in two, in so many places, that the lion 
 got out without any difficulty. The lion was very much sur- 
 prised and pleased, when he found that the helpless little 
 mouse had been able to render him such great service. 
 
 This fable teaches us to be kind to the weak and helpless ; 
 and to remember that there is no person so much below us, 
 that he may not be able to render a good service in time of 
 need. 
 
 To the Lady-Bird. 
 
 Lady-Bird, Lady-Bird, fly away home ' 
 The field-mouse has gone to her nest; 
 
 The daisies have shut up their sleepy red eyes, 
 And the bees and the birds are at rest, 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 29 
 
 Lady-Bird, Lady-Bird, fly away home ! 
 
 The glowworm is li<j:hting her lamp ; 
 The dew is falling fast, and your fine speckled wings 
 
 Will flag with the cumbering damp. 
 
 Lady-Bird, Lady-Bird, fly away home I 
 
 Good luck if you roach it at last ; 
 The owl is abroad, and the bat's on the roam, 
 
 Sharp set from their tedious fast. 
 
 Lady-Bird, Lady-^ird, fly away home I 
 
 And if not gobbled up on the way, 
 You should reach your snug nest in the old willow-tree, 
 
 Yon are lucky, — and I have no more to say. 
 
 Tlic Faifhfd Day. 
 
 A gentleman, accompanied by his dog, was travelling in 
 the West of England, when night overtook him. Not being 
 acquainted with the road, he soon lost his way, and fell into 
 a coal-pit thirty feet deep. 
 
 All night, the dog ran round and round the mouth of the 
 pit, barking and howling, as if he was trying to call somebody 
 there to extricate his master. But nobody came. 
 
 The next morning, he went back to the house where his 
 master had last staid. When he got there, he did every thing 
 he could, to attract the attention of the servants. He would 
 look at them and whine, and would throw himself on his back 
 before them, as if he was begging them to do something. 
 
 The servants offered him food, but he would not eat it. He 
 did nothing but howl, and run backwards and forwards about 
 the door, and give other signs of being in great distress about 
 something. But the servants could not understand him. 
 
 At last, the lady of the house, thinking that something 
 must be the matter, tol4 one of the servants to follow him 
 wherever he might go. The dog was now delighted, and 
 rapidly led the way to the pit into which his master had 
 fallen. The gentleman had given himself up for lost, and 
 expected nothing but to starve to death ; but the servant 
 went back for help, and soon returned and rescued him from 
 hii terrible situation. 
 
so THE CONFEDERATE FIIIST READER. 
 
 Old Cato. 
 
 Do you tliiuk our poor dog, to tlio stable we'll seud, 
 
 Because he's grown feeble aud old 't 
 No, no, every night, quite secure from alarm, 
 Old Cato must sleep in the kitchen so warm ; 
 
 He shan't be turn'd out in the cold. 
 
 I remember the time when so frisky and gay, 
 
 He would bark at each one that he met ; 
 And watch round the house while asleep we all lay, 
 If a base lurking robber came prowling that way : 
 These things I can never forget. 
 
 And when Tom, the shepherd, would drive out the sheep, 
 
 He'd watch by the side of the fold ; 
 No, no, my poor Cato, secure from all harm, 
 Shall eat and shall drink in the kitchen so warm ; 
 
 He shan't be turn'd out in the cold. 
 
 The Indian and His Dog. 
 
 A family b}' the name of Lefevre, lived near the Blue 
 Bidge mountains, many years ago. An Indian, named Tewe- 
 nissa, frequently culled to spend the night, when his journey- 
 ings led him past the house of Lefevre. He was always 
 cordiall}'^ welcomed, and kindly entertained. 
 
 One day, when Tewenissa, laden with furs, stopped at the 
 house of his friend, he found no one at home, but an old ne- 
 gro woman. "Where is my brother?" asked the Indian, 
 *'Ah sir,'^ said the woman, ''his littls boy Derick, only four 
 years old, the same that you loved to take upon your knee, 
 wandered away into the forest on yesterday, and is lost; and 
 all the neighbors are helping the distressed parents to look 
 for him." " . • 
 
 Tewenissa was grieved when he learned of the sorrow of 
 his friend's family, and the misfortune to his little favorite. 
 He sounded the horn, and called in the hunting party; and 
 then he told Mr. Lefevre that he would find his little boy. 
 
 Tewenissa then asked for the shoes and stockings that little 
 
I'HE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. gl 
 
 Derick had last worn. Ho next called his faithful dog Ouiah, 
 and made him smell them. Taking the house for a centre, he 
 then commenced drawing a circle all around it with his stick, 
 making Oniah smell the earth as he went. 
 
 The circle was not completed before the sagacious dog be- 
 gan to bark, lie had discovered the scent, and he commenced 
 to follow the little boy's track, barking as he went. The In- 
 dian followed as fast as he could, and so did little Derick's 
 parents, and the rest of the party; but the dog ran so fast 
 that he was soon out of sight. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, they heard Oniah bark again, and 
 soon they saw him returning. He was frisky with joy; so 
 that the Indian knew at once, that he had found the little boy, 
 but whether he was dead or alive could not yet be known. 
 The dog now led the way with Tewenissa following close at 
 his heeJs, until they came to little Derick lying at the foot of 
 a large tree. 
 
 The little boy was alive, but extremely weak and exhausted, 
 80 that he. could not have liyed much longer. Tewenissa took 
 him up in his arms, and carried him to his parents, who were 
 almost overcome with joy. Hy proper treatment, little Derick 
 was soon as. well as ever. 
 
 The gratitude of the parents, to the Indian and to his dog, 
 was so great that for a long tim^ they could do nothing but 
 Weep; and Tewenissa was almost as much pleased as they 
 were. And the neighbors, when they separated, went to their 
 homes highly delighted v^th the good Indian, and his wonder- 
 ful dog. 
 
 Kind Word.<. 
 
 A little word in kindness spoken, 
 
 A motion or a tear. 
 Has often healed the heart that's broken, 
 
 And made a friend sincere. 
 
 A word, a look, has crushed to earth, 
 
 Full many a budding flower. 
 Which, had a smile but owned its birth, 
 
 Would bless life's darkest hour. 
 
S2 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER 
 
 Then deem it not an idle thing, 
 
 A pleasant word to speak ; 
 The face you wear, the thoughts you bring, 
 
 A heart may heal or break. 
 
 The Good-Natured Dog. 
 
 Some dogs are very fond of playing with little boys, and 
 will take as much pleasure in the game, as any of them. They 
 will run after a ball, and bring it back to the one who threw 
 it, and do many other amusing things. 
 
 There was a large dog, named Bernard, that belonged to 
 the teacher of a large school of boys in Virginia, Bernard 
 seemed to know as well as any one, when the time approached 
 for play ; and wheu the boys came runi^ug out into the yard, 
 he would meet them, ready to tal^e his share in their amuse- 
 ments. 
 
 His favorite sport was to take a stick in his mouth and 
 walk towards them, noddiug his head at them, as if he was 
 challenging them to catch him and take the stick away. A 
 troop of boys would immediately pursue him, and the game 
 would begin. Bernard woilld run just fast enough to keep 
 them from catching him. The boys would sometimes surround 
 him, and think they were sure of him ; but just as they would 
 grab at him, he would jump between two of them, or dart 
 between their legs, and away he would go. Sometimes they 
 would get near enough to catch at his bushy tail; but he 
 would make a sudden leap and elude them again. 
 
 At last, after the chase had been kept up till they were all 
 tired, Bernard would let them have the pleasure of catching 
 him, and taking his stick away; and then they would jump 
 on his back, or do any thing with him that they wished, and 
 he would never hurt them or get angry. Indeed, the .boys 
 all considered him one of the best playmates they had. 
 
 The Larh and her Young Ones. — A Fable. 
 
 A lark having made her nest in a wheat-field, the wheat 
 became ripe before the young larks were able to fly. Being 
 
l^HE COXFEDERATK FIRST READER. gg 
 
 afraid .that the farmer would cut down liis wheat before she 
 had provided another place for her little ones, she directed 
 them, while she was gone to get food for them, to listen to 
 what they might hear the farmer sa}'' about beginning his 
 harvest. 
 
 The old lark then went out,; but when she came home 
 again, the little birds ran to her and said, '' Oh. mother, take 
 us away from here just as soon as you can ; for while you 
 were gone we heard the farmer tell his sons that the wheat 
 was ripe, and that they must go and ask some of his neigh- 
 bors to come early to-morrow morning, and help him.' to cut it 
 down." 
 
 ^'If that is what he said, you need not be afraid, my chil- 
 dren,^' said the old lark. " If the farmer depends upon his 
 neighbors to do his work for him, he will find himself mis- 
 taken, and we shall be verv safe where we are. So lie down 
 in your nest, and give yourselves no uneasiness." 
 
 The next day, when the old laik was going out, she gave 
 her young ones the same directions. In the evening, when 
 she returned, the little larks told her the neighbors had not 
 come to cut down the wheat ; but they begged her to move 
 them immediately ; for the}' said that the farmer had told his 
 sons to go and request his friends and relations to come early 
 the next morning, and assist him. 
 
 " "We are in no danger yet, my children," said the old larlc; 
 ^^ for as long as he looks to his friends and relations, to do for 
 him what he ought to do for himself, his wheat will go un- 
 harvested. So we will make ourselves quiet, and stay in our 
 nest, for we have no cause for anxiety at present." 
 
 The next day the mother-lark again told her young ones'to 
 listen to what the farmer might say, and tell her when she 
 came back. In the evening, when she came home, the little 
 larks told her that the farmer had been there with his sons, 
 but that his friends and relations did not come to assist him. 
 The farmer then told his sons to grind their scythes, and get 
 ready, and that early to-morrow morning, they would begin 
 and harvest the wheat themselves. 
 
 " AVe must now prepare to leave immediately," said the old 
 lark ) " for when a man resolves to do his work himself, and to 
 depend upon nobody else, the work is pretty sure to be done; 
 but as long as he depends on friends or neighbors, he is almost 
 sure to effect nothing." So the old lark moved th« little birds 
 8 
 
g4 THE COXFEDERaTE l-HtST READER. 
 
 that saiue evening, into another field ; and sure enongh, the 
 next morning the larmer aud his sons came, and cut down the 
 wheat. 
 
 This fable teaches us to do our work ourselves, aud not rely, 
 upon others to do it lor us U' we trusit to others, they will 
 often di><appoint us ; aud it will also produee habits of lazinessa 
 and dependence, which will prevent us from ever being pros- 
 perous or usfelul. 
 
 Th^ Anf nilL 
 
 Take eaVe^ little lUehurd ! don't hurry so fas^t 
 Look w^ell to your footsteps, my boy — 
 
 If on that ant hill you carelessly tread; 
 You will many hour;^' labor destroy. 
 
 For these poor little ants have been working all day 
 
 To build up that minikin pile ; 
 One grain at a time they have' lifted it out, 
 
 And been patient as lambrf all the while. 
 
 They have scoop'd out a little snug hole in the earth, 
 
 Their winter's provisions to hold ; 
 And t» serve for a bedroom, when summer is pa-st^ 
 
 Secure from the rain and the cold. 
 
 IIow cruel 'twould be to kick over a liou.^e 
 Which has cost so much toil to prepare ! 
 
 Step aside, little llichard, and learn to be wise. 
 From the busy ant's provident care. 
 
 If with diligence now, you will study your book, 
 And be careful each moment to save ; 
 
 Should you live, my dear child, to the winter of age, 
 What a fine stock of knowledge you'll have ! 
 
 But let this one truth sink deep in your heart, 
 
 And keep it forever in mind ; 
 That your learning will be to no purpose, unless 
 
 Ygu are humble^ and modct^t, and kind. 
 
TUE CONFEDERATE FIRST BEADER. 05 
 
 For learning alone will not make you bcIovVl, 
 
 If you're cruel, or selfish, or vain; 
 But a sweet, lowly temper will win every heart, 
 
 And the blessing of Heaven obtain. 
 
 Home dogs are so vicious that it is not safe to let tlieni run 
 at large. They are kept chained in the day time, and only 
 (urned loose at night for the purpose of guarding their own* 
 ers' houses and other property, from thieves and robbers. 
 Sometimes they get loose during the day, and do much mischief. 
 
 A drayman's horse once escaped from him in a certaiu city, 
 and commenced to gallop up the street. The drayman started 
 after him, and called to the people whom he saw, to stop the 
 horse, and help him to catch him again. 
 
 A number of persons ran out into the street to head the 
 horse, and with them there wciit a bull-dog, which is one of 
 the fiercest kinds of dogs. The bull-dog instantly sprang at 
 the horse, and seized him by the upper lip. 
 
 This frightened the horse so much, and gave him so much 
 pain, that he became frantic. So he ran along several streets 
 with all his might, the bull-dog hanging to his lip all the 
 time. At length a crov.d got in front of the horse, and 
 stopped him ; but he was so wild with paiu and fear, that 
 he ran through a hardware store, and into a parlor where the 
 family were at tea. 
 
 The family were not expecting such a visitor as that. They 
 had not invited a horse to take supper with them, with a bull- 
 dog hanging to his lip. But they had not much time to ask 
 questions ; ibr the horse upset their table, and broke their 
 china, and spoiled their supper, before they knew what was 
 the matter. 
 
 A number of men now seized the horse, and held him, while 
 others tried to beat off the savage dog. But all their efforts 
 were in vain ; for the bull-dog hung on to the horse's lip, 
 with metciless and unyielding grip. At last one of the com- 
 pany had to take a knife and cut the dog's throat, in order to 
 relieve the horse. It might perhaps have been done by taking 
 a -stick, and prizing open the dog's mouth. 
 
30 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST HEADER. 
 
 If ever you see a horse frantic witli fright, j^ou must be 
 very watchful, or he may run over you ; fur horses in that 
 state, will dash into a house or against a tree, or butt their 
 brains out against a wall, without seeming to know or care 
 what they are doing. 
 
 God Seen in All Things. 
 
 Thou art, God ! the life and light, 
 Of all this wondrous v;orld we see ; 
 
 Its glow by day, its smile by night. 
 Are but reflections caught from thee. 
 
 Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, 
 
 And all things fair and bright are thine. 
 
 When day, with farewell beam, delays, 
 Among the golden clouds of even, 
 
 And we can almost think we gaze, 
 Through opening vistas, into heaven ; 
 
 Those hues, that make the sun's decline 
 
 So soft, so radiant, Lord ! are thine. 
 
 When night, with wings of stormy gloom, 
 O'ershadows all the earth and skies. 
 
 Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume 
 Is sparkling with unnumbered dyes; 
 
 That sacred gloom, those fires divine. 
 
 So grand, so countless, Lord I arc thine. 
 
 When youthful Spring around us breathes. 
 Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh ; 
 
 And every flower that Summer wreathes, 
 Is born beneath thy kindling eye. 
 
 Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, 
 
 And all things fair and bright, are thine. 
 
 Show and Use — The Two Colts. 
 
 A nobleman once had a beautiful blooded colt, and also a 
 mule- colt. He gave the young horjse to hig neighbor, Mr. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 37 
 
 Scamper, wlnle tlie little mule went to a very poor man, wlio 
 made his living by cutting wood. 
 
 Mr. Scamper was greatly deliglited with his fine colt ; and 
 indeed, as he grew up, he became still handsomer. His color 
 was bright bay, with a white star in his forehead, and his 
 hair was fine and smootb, and as glossy as silk. 
 
 Mr. Scamper was resolved to train him up for a race-horse ; 
 for he was too fine a horse to be put to any useful purpose. 
 So he was kept in a warm stable, and fed with the best of 
 corn and hay, and was duly curried and rubbed, and regu- 
 larly exercised. Indeed, Mr. Scamper treated him with as 
 much care and tenderness, as he did his own children. 
 
 When this fine horse was three years old, jMr. Scamper 
 sent him away to be trained for the race-course. The expense 
 of this, was greater than Mr. Scamper could aftbrd -, so he 
 had to take his children from the good .school to which they 
 were going, and send them to an inferior one, because it was 
 cheaper. 
 
 The next year the young racer was placed upon the turf. 
 He was beaten the first race; but he came out second. In the 
 next race, he was successful ; and Mr. Scamper was almost 
 crazy with joy. Mr. Scamper now gave his whole atten- 
 tion to racing; and at last he became so excited, that he 
 made up a race in which he bet all he was worth on his 
 horse. The race was lost, and Mr. Scamper was broken up 
 and ruiued 
 
 The httle mule, meanwhile, had grown up also, but through, 
 a great deal of hardship. He had to live on what he could 
 find ill the lanes and among the bushes ; and in winter, he had 
 no stable to shelter in. As soon as he v/as big enough to ride, 
 two or three of the children would mount him at a time, and 
 beat him along with sticks. T5ut he grew up healthy and 
 strong. 
 
 His owner then set him to hauling wood to market, and in 
 this way the mule was very profitable to him. He soon made 
 enough money, to buy a plenty of food for his mule, which 
 thus became fat and greatly improved. After awhile, he was 
 able, out of the earnings of his mule, to buy a horse and 
 cow; and he soon became quite a fiirmer, and grew rich. So 
 that while Mr. Scamper's present ruined him, because his 
 horse was thought too fine for service, the mule made the 
 wood-cuttcr's fortune, because he put him to a good use. * 
 
58 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 How to Tell Bad News. 
 
 Mr. 7/.— Ha 1 Steward, how are you, my old boy ? Jlow 
 do things go on at home ? 
 
 Steward. — Bad enough, your honor. The magpie's dead. 
 
 Mr. H. — Poor Mag ! so he's gone. How came he to die ? 
 
 Stew. — Over-ate himself, sir. 
 
 Mr. II. — Did he, indeed? a greedy villain ! Why, what 
 did he get that he liked so well ? 
 
 Steic. — Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse-flesh. 
 
 Mr. H. — How came he to get so much horse-flesh ? 
 
 Stew. — All your father's horses, sir. 
 
 Mr. TT.— What ! are they dead, too ? 
 
 Steio. — Ay, sir; they died of over-work. 
 
 Mr. II. — And why were they over- worked, pray? 
 
 Stew. — To carry water, sir. 
 
 Mr. H. — To carry water ! and what were they carrying 
 water for ? 
 
 Steif. — Sure, sir, to put out the fire. 
 
 Mr. II. — Fire ! what fire ? 
 
 Stew. — 0, sir, your father's house is burned down to the 
 ground. 
 
 Mr. II. — My father's house burned down ! and how came 
 it set on fire ? 
 
 Stew. — I think, air, it must have been the torches. 
 
 Mr. II — Torches I what torches ? 
 
 Stew. — At your mother's funeral. 
 ' 3Ir. II. — Alas ! has my mother died ? 
 
 Stevj. — Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it. 
 
 Mr. //.—After what? 
 
 Steit:. — The loss of your father. 
 
 Mr. II.~Mj father gone, too ? 
 
 Stew. — -Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as 
 he heard of it. 
 
 3Ir. /?.— Heard of what? 
 
 Stew. — The bad news, sir, and please your honor. 
 
 Mr. H. — ^What! more miseries ? more bad news? No! you 
 can add nothing more ! 
 
 Stew. — Yes, sir; your bank has failed, and your credit is 
 lost, and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made 
 bold, sir, to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you 
 would like to hear the news. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 39 
 
 Contented John. 
 
 There was honest John Tompkins, a hedger and ditcher, 
 Although he was poor, he did not sigh to be richer ] 
 For all such vain wishes, to him were prevented, 
 By a fortunate hubit of being contented. - 
 
 If cold was the weather, or dear was the food, 
 John never was fuund in a murmuring mood ; 
 For this, he was constantly heard to declare, — 
 What he could not prevent, he could cheerfully bear. 
 
 For why should I grumble and murmur, he said ; 
 If I cannot get meat, I can surely get bread ; 
 And though fretting may make my calamities deeper, 
 It never can cause bread and cheese to be cheaper. 
 
 If John was afflicted with sickness or pain, 
 
 He wished himself better, but did not complain, 
 
 Nor lie down to fret, in despondence and sorrow, 
 
 But said — that he hoped he would be better to-morrow. 
 
 If any one wronged him, or treated him ill, 
 
 Why, John was good-natured and sociable still ; 
 
 For he said, that revenging the injury done, 
 
 Would be making two bad.men, where there need be but one. 
 
 And thus honest John, though his station was humble, 
 Passed through this sad world, without even a grumble; 
 And I wish that some folks, who are greater and richer, 
 Would copy John Tompkins, the hedger and ditcher. 
 
 ihe Earth and Its Inhahiiants. 
 
 It was four thousand and four years bcfqre the coming of 
 (Jhrist, or nearly six thousand years ago, when this earth was 
 first inhabited by men. 
 
 There are now five varieties or races of men found on the 
 earth. They are distinguished from each other partly by their 
 diffcreut colors. There are the White race, the Yellow race, 
 Ihe Bed race, the Brown race, and i\\Q Black race. 
 
40 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST HEADER. 
 
 The White people live cliiefly in Europe, and they came 
 thence to America. The Yellow and the Brown people, live 
 chiefly in Asia, and the great Islands near Asia. The Black 
 people live in Africa, or came from there. The lied people, 
 called Indians, live in America. 
 
 America was not known to White people, until nearly four 
 hundred years ago. A brave man, named Christopher Co- 
 lumbus, was the first to discover it. After sailing, for many 
 months and days, across the dark waters of the ocean, where 
 nobody had ventured before, he came in sight of America on 
 the 11th October, in the year 1492. 
 
 When America was discovered, it was grown up in forests. 
 There were no cities, or towns, or houses, such as we have 
 'now; and no farms and meadows, and no ships and steamboats 
 on the rivers. The woods were filled with all sorts of wild 
 animals, and the Indians lived chiefly by hunting them with 
 their bows and arrows. 
 
 When the White men first came here, the Indians thought 
 that they and their ships, had dropped down from the sky. 
 They supposed that they were superior beings^ and were very 
 much afraid of them, and treated them generally with great 
 kindness. 
 
 It was not long, however, before the White people began 
 to oppress them; and then there arose war and fighting, in 
 which the Indians behaved very cruelly, but were always van- 
 quished, and a great man}" of them were destroyed ; so that 
 there are very few Indians nov/, compared with the number 
 that were here when Columbus discovered America. 
 
 Gratitude. 
 
 Whene'er I take my walks abioad, 
 
 How many poor I see ! 
 What shall I render to my God, 
 
 For all his gifts to me 1 
 
 Not more than others I deserve, 
 Yet God has given me more ; 
 
 For I have food while others starve, 
 ( )r beg" from door to door. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 41 
 
 How many ehilaren, on the street, 
 
 Half naked I behold; 
 While I am clothed from head to feet, 
 
 And sheltered from the cold. 
 
 While some poor creatures scarce can tell, 
 
 Where they may lay their head, 
 I have a home wherein to dwell, 
 
 And rest upon my bed. 
 
 While others early learn to swear, 
 
 And curse, and lie, and steal, 
 Lord ! I am taught th^^ name to fear, 
 And do thy holy will. 
 
 Are these thy favors, dry by Jay, 
 
 To me above the rest? 
 Then let me lovo thee more than they, 
 
 And. try to :3erYe thee best I 
 
 , Heaven, 
 
 The rose is sweet, but it is surrounded with thorns; the 
 Bpring i3 pleasant, but it is soon past; the rainbow is glorious, 
 but it vauisheth away ; life is good, but it is quickly swallowed 
 up in death. 
 
 Tlicre iy a place of rest for the righteous ; in that land 
 there is light without auy cloud» and fiowere that never fade. 
 Myriads of happy souls are there, singing praises to God. . 
 
 That country is Heaven : it is the country of those that are 
 good; and nothing that is wicked must inhabit there. This 
 earth is pleasant, for it is God's earth, and it is filled with 
 delightful thing-8. 
 
 But that country is better : there we shall not grieve any 
 more, nor be sick any more, nor do wrong any more. In (hit 
 country there are no quarrels; all love one another with dear 
 love. 
 
 When our friends die, and are laid in the cold ground, we 
 see them here no more ; but there we shall embrace them, 
 and never be parted {torn them uguiu. There we eiiail b'et3 Jiii 
 U:o ^jd lilt: a '"h-jki -v^ t'^i^l 9i> 
 
42 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 There we shall pee Jesus, who is gone before us to that happy 
 place ; there we shall behold the glory of the high Gud. 
 
 The Clirktian Race. 
 
 Awal^e, my soul ! stretch every nerve, 
 
 And press with vigor on ! 
 A heavenly race demands thy zeal, 
 
 And an immortal crown. 
 
 A cloud of witnesses around, 
 
 Hold thee in full survey. 
 Forget the steps already trod, 
 
 And onward urge thy way. 
 
 ^Tis God's all-animating voice. 
 That calls thee from on high, 
 
 'Tis his own hand presents the prize. 
 To thine aspiriag eye : 
 
 My soul ! with sacred ardour fired, 
 
 The glorious prize pursue; 
 And meet with joy, the high command, 
 
 To bid the OHrth adieu. 
 
 The SeasoTiB. 
 
 Who is this beautiful maiden that approaches, clothed in a 
 robe of green light? She has a garland of flowers on her 
 head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her foot. The 
 snow which covered the fields, and the ice which was on the 
 rivers, melt away when she breathes upon them. 
 
 The young lambs frisk about her, and the birds warble to 
 welcome her coming. When they see her, they begin to 
 choose their mates, and to build their nests. ' Youths and 
 maidens, have ye seen thl« beautiful virgin ? If ye have, 
 tell me who she is, and what is her name. 
 
 Who is this that cometh from the south,. thinly clad in a 
 light, transparent garment? Her breath is hot and sultry. 
 fflXQ seeks tii6 cloa j 's'trearos, th© crygtaJ btopk?, to batho ^ler 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER, 43 
 
 languid limbs. The brooks and rivulets fly from Ler, and are 
 dried up at her approach. She cools her parched lips with 
 berries, and the grateful ncida of fruits. The tanned hay- 
 makers welcome her coming; and the shcep-shoarer, who 
 clips the fleeces off his flock with his sounding shears. 
 
 When she cometh, let me lie under the thick shade of a 
 spreading beech-tree,— let me walk with her in the early 
 morning, when the dew is yet upon the grass,-~let me wander 
 with her in the soft twilight, when the shepherd shuts his 
 fold, and the star of the evening appears. Who is she that 
 cometh from the south ? Youth and maidens, tell me, if ye 
 know, who she is, and what is her name. 
 
 Who is he that cometh with sober pace, stealino^upon us 
 unawares? His garments are red with the blood of the grape, 
 and his temples are bound with a sheaf of ripe wheat. His 
 bair IS thin, and begins to fall, and the auburn is mixed with 
 mourning gray. He shakes the brown nuts from the tree. 
 He winds the horn, and calls the hunters to their sport. The 
 gun sounds. The trembling partridae and the beautiful 
 pheasant flutter bleeding in the air,\and fall dead at the 
 sportsman's feet. Youth and maidens, tell me, if ye know 
 who he is. and what is his name. 
 
 \yho Ls he that cometh from .the north, in furs and warm 
 wool.'' He wraps his cloak close about him. His head is 
 bald; his beard is made of sharp icicles. He loves the blaziuL' 
 fire high piled upon the hearth, and the wine sparkling iu the 
 glass. He binds skates to his feet, and skims over the frozen 
 lakes. His breath is piercing and cold, and no little flower 
 dares to peep above the surface of the ground when he is bv 
 Whatever he touches, turns to ice. Youth and maidens do 
 you soG him i He is coming upon us, and eoon will be here 
 Xcil liio^ it yc know, who he is, and what is his name 
 
 TJie Creator Greater than JXh WorJcs.. 
 
 Come, and I will" show you what is beautiful.' It is a rose 
 tully blown bee how. she sits upon her mossy stem, like the 
 
 IS failed with her sweet odor; she is the delight of every eye 
 She IS beautiful, but tte^e i. a.^drpr.tlia^ bljc.' Ho that 
 
44 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 wade the rose, is more beautiful thau tlic rose : He is all lovely : 
 He is the delight of ever}' heart. 
 
 I will show you_what is strong. The lion is strong. When 
 he raiseth himself from his lair, when he shaketh his mane, 
 when the voice of his roaring is heard, the cattle of the field 
 fly, and the wild beasts of the desert hide themselves, for he 
 is very terrible. 
 
 The lion is strong, but He that made the lion is stronger 
 than he. His auger is terrible : He could make us die in a 
 moment, and no one could save us irom His hand. 
 
 I will show you what is glorious. Q'hc sun is glorieus. 
 When ha shineth in the clear sky, and is seen all over the 
 earth, he is the most glorious object the eye can behold. 
 
 The sun is glorious, but He that made the sun is more glo- 
 rious than he. The eye beholdeth Him not, for His brightness 
 is more dazzling than we could bear. He sceth in all dark 
 places, by night as well as by day, and the light of His coun- 
 tenance is over all His works. 
 
 Who is this great name, and what is he called, that my lips 
 may praise him ? 
 
 This great name is irod. He made all things, but He is 
 himself more excellent than they. They are beautiful, but He 
 is beauty; they are strong, but He is strength ; they are per- 
 fect, but He is perfection. 
 
 The Old Morse. 
 
 No, children, he shall not be sold ; 
 
 Go lead him home, and dry your tears. 
 *Tis true, he's blind, and lame, and old, 
 
 But he has served us twenty years. 
 
 Well, has he served us, — gentle, strong, 
 And willing, through life's varied stage ; 
 
 And having toiled for us so long, 
 We will protect him iu his age. 
 
 Our debt of gratitude to pay^ - 
 His faithful merits to requite, 
 Hi:-' play-grotiud be the field by day, 
 - ■■ A shod shall &b61t-2r Mm*ii rzighi. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 4,5 
 
 A life of labor was liis lot ; 
 
 He always tried to do his best. 
 Poor fellow, now we'll grudge thee not, 
 
 A little liberty and rest. 
 
 Go, then, old friend ; thy future fait?, 
 To range the fields from harness free ; 
 
 And just below tlie cottage gate, 
 I'll go and build a shed for thee. 
 
 The Ten Commandments, 
 
 And God spake all these words, saying : 
 
 I. Thou ihalt have no other gods before me. 
 
 II. Thoii shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or 
 the likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is 
 in tlie earth beneath, or that is in the waters under the earth : 
 
 Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve thera ; 
 for I the Lord thj God, am a jealous God, visiting the 
 iniquity of the father^' upon the children, unto the third and 
 fourth generations of them that hate me ; 
 
 And showing mercy unto thousands of them thai love mo 
 and keep my commandments. 
 
 III. Thou shalt not take the name of tlia Lord thy God 
 in vain ; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh 
 his name in vain. 
 
 IV. Kemember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. 
 Six days shalt thou labor and do all th}- work : 
 
 But the seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God : iu 
 it thou shalt not do any work, thou nor thy son nor thy 
 daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy 
 cattle, nor the stranger that is within thy gates. 
 
 For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, 
 and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day : where- 
 lore the Lord blessed the Sabbath-day and hallowed it. 
 
 V. Honor thy father and thy mother ; that thy days may 
 be long upon the laud which the Lprd thy God giveth thee. 
 
 VI Thou shalt not kill. 
 
 VII Thou Bhalt not commit adultoy. 
 VIII. Thou Ehalt pot Bteal. 
 
 . IXv Tlica clialt i;^[. t'^^r i'^-y^*»'i^jbs^ %ai2tl t'-iyii^B%hl^Jr. 
 
46 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 X. Thou shalfc not covet thy neiglibor's house; thou shalt 
 not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his man-servant, nor his 
 maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy 
 neighbor's. 
 
 And all the people saw the thunderinge and the lightnings, 
 and the noise of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking. 
 
 Heavenly Rest. 
 
 There is an hour of peaceful rest, 
 
 To mourning wanderers given ; 
 
 There is a tear for souls distressed, 
 
 A balm for every wounded breast ; 
 
 ''Tis found above, — in heaven. 
 
 There is a soft, a downy bed. 
 
 Fair as the breath of even ; 
 A couch for weary mortals spread, 
 Where they may rest the aching head, 
 
 And find repose, — in heaven. 
 
 There is a home for weary souls. 
 
 By sin and sorrow driven ; 
 When tossed on life's tempestuous shoals, 
 Where storms arise, and ocean rolls, 
 
 And all is dark,— but heaven. 
 
 There fragrant fiowers immortal bloom, 
 
 And joys supreme are given. 
 There rays divine, disperse the gloom; 
 Beyond the confines of the tomb, 
 
 iVppears the dawa — of heaven. 
 
 All for .the ^esL 
 
 There was once an Eastern traveller, who always said that 
 what God allowed to be done, was all for the best. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 47 
 
 as night approached, he found himself very weary and hungry. 
 The clouds, too, were growing black, as if a storm was coming. 
 At last, he saw a village, and rode up to it, and asked for 
 shelter and lodging for the night. But the men all refused, 
 and drove him away; and he was obliged to go to the woods 
 near by. 
 
 The poor traveller thought it was very hard that the people 
 of the village should be so inhospitable to him ; but he said 
 God is just, and it is all for the best. 
 
 He turned his horse loose, so that he might eat some grass. 
 He then lighted his lamp, and sat down under a tree, and began 
 to read the book of the law. He had not read more than one 
 chapter, when the storm burst upon him, and extinguished his 
 lamp. H^e was very sorry that he had to stop reading, and to 
 sit there iu the dark without any thing to interest him. But 
 he still said that it was all for the best. 
 
 After awhile, he stretched himself on the <rround, with his 
 faithful dog watching over him, and tried to go to sleep. But 
 he had hardly closed his eyes, when a great wolf came, and 
 killed his dog. "Alas,'' he said, " who will henceforth watch 
 over me when I sleep ? My trusty dog is gone ! But, no 
 doubt, it is all for the best." 
 
 Soon after he had said this, a lion came and devoured his 
 horse. '' What am I to do now?" said the poor man. '' My 
 lanip is out, and my dog is gone; and now my horse, too, is 
 taken from me. But God knows what is best for us, poor 
 mortals. It is all for the best." 
 
 He passed a sleepless night, and early next morning, went 
 to the village to see if he could buy another horse, that he 
 might pursue his journey. But what was his surprise, when 
 he found that there was not a live pers6n in the whole village! 
 A band of rubbers had come during the night, and killed all 
 the people, and plundered their houses. 
 
 The traveller raised his voice in thanks to God, for having 
 preserved him from the danger into which he was so near 
 tailing. " Now I know truly ,^' he said, " that men are short- 
 sighted and blind; often considering those things as evils, 
 which God designs for their good. If the people had not 
 been unkind to me, and driven me away from their village, I, 
 too; should have been murdered by the robbers. If the wind 
 had not put out my lamp, they would have found me under 
 tliptr^o^fjajid iLilIe'd mc, Ai^d if my dog; and, i»y:hoy£'3 iiad 
 
4S THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 not been taken from me, tlieir noise would have attracted tlie 
 attention of the robbers, and guided them to me. Blessed be 
 the name of the Lord, all is for the best." 
 
 The Rose. 
 
 The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower, 
 
 Which Mary to Anna conveyed : 
 The plentiful moisture-encumbered tlie flower, 
 
 And weighed down its beautiful head. 
 
 The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet; 
 
 And it seemed, to a fanciful view, 
 To weep for the buds it had left with regret. 
 
 On the fiourishingbush where it grow. 
 
 I hastily seized it, unfit as it was 
 
 For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned ; 
 
 And swinging it rudely, too rudely alas, 
 I snapped it—it fell to the ground. 
 
 And such, I exclaimed, in the pitiless part, 
 
 Some act by the delicate mind; 
 Kegardless of wringing and breaking a heart. 
 
 Already to sorrow resigned. 
 
 This elegant rose, had I shaken it less, 
 
 Might have bloomed with its owner awhile ; 
 
 And the tear that is wiped with a little address, 
 May be followed, perhaps, by a smile. 
 
 The Good Bo^j. 
 
 Tlie good boy loves his parents very dearly. He .ilwayg 
 minds what they say to him, and tries to please them. If they 
 desire him not to do a thing, he does it not: if they desire 
 him to do a thing, he does it oheerfuliy. 
 
 Whqn thoy deny him what he mshcfe f.»T, he do<s| not 
 
THE COXFKDEKATE EIRST READER. 43 
 
 fat ^'l/^''^^ ^""^ '".''*' '' P™P«'' f""- tim better tliau ho 
 do^, because they are wiser than he is 
 
 He loTes his teachers, and all who tell him what U -ood 
 
 H« htes to read and to write, and to learn somethit''new 
 
 every day. He hopes that if he shall live to be a n?n h! 
 
 He^sTi,!/r'". "'"r^ '!""="' """^ ■=" ^'^y ^i- ''" "good 
 plavfeLw H ' '"'I'^r T*^ ^i^'te'«,and all his little 
 play-te lows. Ho never faghts them, nor quarrels with them 
 nor ealls hem names. When he sees them do wron^ hTk 
 sorry, and tries to perstiade them to do better ^' 
 
 nersol whn""' T'"^ ™'^''^'.'" ""^ ^"^y- ^^ ^e sees any 
 lauLtTh?, ' 'a«'e, or. erooked, or very old, he does no^ 
 
 Ifotenl^nrs^rvTee"""'"""' '""'^ '^ ^'^'^ -"^^ ''^ -> 
 
 He is kind even to dumb creatures : for he knows that 
 
 though they eanoot speak, they can feel as well as we Even 
 
 lie likes very much to see the birds pick up bits of hav 
 
 e"e'trh'er itr^'' '" 'r"' "'^"' "-^'^ -"^; -^ f>« ^o 
 
 see tne hen sitting ou her nest, or feedino- her vouno'onp^. 
 
 "sZS ''sVi'!\''t '" "'™; -^^' -^" helZcnf cm;: 
 
 and amo^^,^! f ' f ""' '? "^" ''"^''^^' ""'^ i'' 'he trees, 
 
 not see [he bt o T' ^ ?^'^ "^^'^l *' *'>^"'! ^e would rather 
 harm '' *"" fnghfen them, or do them any 
 
 messes It, and says he is very sorry, and will try to do so no 
 
 hastn^',!!"' ^"^1 '' "'"^'^ ^' ''"'^•' "> ^^"'ember all he 
 nas been doing and learning iu the day. If he has done 
 
 Ztf! 1' ? '•'■'■^' "■"* ^"P"' ^' ^'■«" ^^ ^0 no more : and 
 
 to pray to food, and to hear and read about Him ; and to so 
 with h,s parents and friends to worship Him. ^ 
 
 we loTim L'h' ^"T *';■'.' Sood boy loves him, and ,,peaks 
 wen o( him, and is kind to him ; and he is.veiyh.ippy* 
 
50 ^'HE CONPEDEIUTE FIRST READER. 
 
 The Good Girl 
 
 The industrious little girl always minds what her father 
 and mother say to her ; and she takes pains to learn what- 
 ever they are so kind as to teach her. She is never noisy or 
 troublesome ; so that they like to have her with them, and to 
 talk to her, and to instruct her. 
 
 She has learned to read so well, and she is so good a girl, 
 that her father has given her several little books, which she 
 reads in by herself, whenever she likes ; and she understands 
 all that is in them. 
 
 She knows the meaning of a great many difficult words ; and 
 also the names of a great many countries, cities, and towns, 
 and she can find them upon a map. 
 
 She can spell almost every little sentence, that her father 
 asks her to spell ; and she can write very prettily, even with- 
 out a copy; ^nd site can do a great many sums on a slate. 
 
 Whatever she does, she takes care to do it well ; and when 
 she is doing one thing, she tries not to think of another. If 
 she has made a Mistake, or done any thing wrong, she is sorry 
 for it ; and when she is told of a fault, she endeavors to avoid 
 it another time. 
 
 When she wants to know any thing, she asks her father or 
 mother to tell her; and she tries to understand, and to re- 
 member what they tell her ; but if they do not think proper 
 to answer her questions, she does not tease them, but says, 
 *''When I am older, they will perhaps instruct me,^' and she 
 thinks about something else. 
 
 She likes to sit by her mother, and sew, or knit. When 
 she sews, she does not take long stitches, or pucker her work ; 
 but does it very neatly, just as her mother tells her to do. — 
 And she always keeps her work very clean ; for if her hands 
 are soiled, she washes them before she begins her work ; and 
 •when she has finished it, she folds it up, and puts it by very 
 carefully, in her work-bag, or in a drawer. 
 
 It is but very seldom, indeed, that she loses her thread or 
 needles, or any thing she has to work with. She keeps her 
 needles and thread in her little oa#e ; and she has a pincushion 
 in which she puts her pins. 
 
 She takes care of her own clothes ; and folds them up very 
 neatly. She knows exactly where she puts them ; aifd, sihe 
 could find them even in the diu'k. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 51 
 
 When she sees a hole in her frock, or any of her clothes, 
 she mends it, or asks her mother to have it mended. She 
 does not wait till the hole is very large, for she remembers 
 what her mother has told her, that ''A stitch in time saves 
 nine.'' 
 
 She does not like to waste anything. She never throws 
 away or burns crumbs of bread, or peelings of fruit, or little 
 bits of muslin, or linen, or ends of thread ; for she has seen 
 the chickens and the little birds picking up crumbs, and the 
 pigs feeding upon peelings of fruit; and she has seen the 
 rag-man going about gathering rags, which, her mother has 
 told her, he sells to people who make paper of them. 
 
 When she goes with her mother into the kitchen and the 
 dairy, she takes notice of every thing she sees ; but she does 
 not meddle with any thing without leave. She knows how 
 puddings, tarts, butter, and bread are made. 
 
 She can iron her own clothes, and she can make her own 
 bed. She likes to feed the chickens and the young turkeys, 
 and to give them clean water to drink and to wash themselves 
 in. She likes to work in her little garden, to weed it, and to 
 sow seeds and plant roots in it ; and she likes to do little 
 jobs for her mother, and be useful. 
 
 If all little girls would be so attentive and industrious, how 
 they would delight their parents, and their kind friends; and 
 they would be much happier themselves, than when they are 
 obstinate, or idle, or ill-humored, and not willing to learn any 
 thing properly, or mind what is said to them. 
 
 Elexjij on Madame Blaize. 
 
 Good people, all, with one accord, 
 Lament for Madam Blaize ; 
 
 Who never wanted a good word, 
 From those who spoke her praise. 
 
 The needy seldom passed her door. 
 
 And always found h'er kind ; 
 She freely lent to all the poor, 
 Who left a pledge behind. 
 
52 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 She strove tlie neigliborhood to please, 
 With manners wondrous winning; 
 
 She never followed wicked ways. 
 Unless when she was sinning. 
 
 At church, in silks and satins new, 
 With hoops of monstrous size. 
 
 She never slumbered in her pew, 
 But when she shut her eyes. 
 
 Her love was sought, I do aver, 
 By twenty beaux, or more; 
 
 The king himself hath followed her. 
 When she has walked before. 
 
 But now, her wealth and finery flud, 
 Her hangers-on, cut short all, 
 
 Her doctors found, when she was dead^ 
 Her last disorder, mortal 
 
 Let us lament, in sorrow sore ; 
 
 For Kent-street well may say, 
 That, had she lived a twelve-month more. 
 
 She had not died to-day. 
 
 Description of Heaven. 
 
 And I saw a new heaven and a new earth ; for the first 
 heaven and the first earth were passed away, and there was 
 no more sea. 
 
 And I, John, saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming 
 down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned 
 for her husband. 
 
 And I heard a great voice out yf heaven, saying, Behold 
 the tabernacle of Glod is with men, and he will dwell with 
 them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be 
 with them, and be their God. 
 
 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and 
 there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, 
 neither shall there be any more pain : for the former tilings 
 are passed away. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE. FIRST READER. 53 
 
 And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several 
 gate was of one pearl ; and the sti'eet of the city was pure 
 gold, as it were transparent glass. 
 
 And I saw no temple therein; for the Lord God x\lmighty, 
 and the Lamb, are the temple of it. 
 
 And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, 
 to shine it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb 
 is the light thereof. 
 
 And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day; for 
 there shall be no night there. 
 
 And there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that 
 defileth, neithei- \A'4iatsover worketh abomination or maketh a 
 lie; but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life. 
 
 The Dangers of Life. 
 
 Awake, my soul ! lift up thine eyes ; 
 See where thy foes against thee rise, 
 In long array, a numerous host ! 
 Awake my soul ! or thou art lost. 
 
 Here giant danger, threat'ning stands, 
 Must'ring his pale, terrific bands; 
 There, pleasure's silken banners spread, 
 And willing souls are captive led. 
 
 See where rebellious paasions rage, 
 And fierce desires and lusts enarasre : 
 The meanest foe of all the train 
 Has thousands and ten thousands slain. 
 
 Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground ; 
 Perils and snares besot thee round ; 
 Beware of all, guard every part. 
 But most the traitor in thy heart. 
 
 Come then, my soul, now learn to wield 
 The weight of thine immortal shield; 
 Put on the armor from above 
 Of heavenly truth and heavenly love. 
 
5^ THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 The terror and tlie charm repel, 
 And powers of earth, and powers of hell 
 The man of Calv'ry triumph'd here ; 
 Why should hib faithful followers fear? 
 
 The Good Samoriian. 
 
 And beliold, a certain Lwyer stood up and tempted Jesus, 
 saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life ? 
 
 Jesus said unto him, AVhat is written In the law ? ITow 
 read est thou ? 
 
 And he, answering, said. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
 with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
 strength, and with all thy mind ; and thy neighbor as thy- 
 self. 
 
 And Jesus said unto him, Thou hast answered riglit : this 
 do, and thou shalt live. 
 
 But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And 
 who is my neighbor ? 
 
 And Jesus, answering, said, A certain man went down 
 from Jeiusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, who 
 stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, 
 leaving him half dead. 
 
 And by chance there came down a certain priest that way ; 
 and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 
 
 And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and 
 looked on him, and passed by on the other side. 
 - But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he 
 was : and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, 
 
 And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in 
 oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him 
 to an inn, and took care of him. 
 
 And on . the mOrrow, when he departed, he took out two 
 pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him. Take 
 care of him ; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I 
 come again I- will repay thee. 
 
 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor 
 unto him that fell among the thieves ? 
 
 And he said. He that showed mercy on him. Then said 
 Jesus unto him^ Go, and do thou likewise. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 55 
 
 The Ant and the Glow- Worm.— A Fable. 
 
 When night had spread its darkest shade, 
 And even the stars no light convej^ed, 
 A little ant of modest gait, 
 Was pacing homeward, somewliat late. 
 
 Piejoiced was she, to keep in sight, 
 A brilliant glow-worm's useful light; 
 Which, like a lantern clear, bestowed 
 Its brightnc!^s o'er her dangerous road. 
 
 l*assing along with footstep firm, 
 8he thus addressed the glittering worm : 
 *^ A blessing, neighbor, on your light ! 
 I kindly thank you for it. ' Good-night/' 
 
 " What!" said the vain, though glowing thing, 
 " Do you employ the light 1 fling ? 
 I do not shine for such as you ! " 
 It proudly then its light withdrew. 
 
 Just then a traveller, passing by, 
 Who had beheld with curious eye, 
 The beauteous brightness, now put out, 
 Left all in darkness and in doubt, 
 Unconscious stepped his foot aside, 
 And crushed the glow-worm in its pride. 
 
 God, in His wise and bounteous love, 
 Has given us talents to improve ; 
 And those who hide the precious store, 
 May do much harm, and suffer more. 
 
 Crucijixion of Christ, 
 
 ^ And as they led Jesus away, they laid hold upon Simon, a 
 Cyrenian, coming out of the country, and on him they laid the 
 cross, that he might bear it after Jesus. 
 
56 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 And there followed liim a great company of people, and of 
 women, which also bewailed and Inmeutc-d him. 
 
 But Jesus turning unto them, said. Daughters of Jerusalem, 
 weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your chil- 
 dren. 
 
 And there were .also two others, malefactors, led with him 
 to be put to death. 
 
 And when they were come to the place which is called Cal- 
 vary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors ; one on 
 the right hand and the other on the left. 
 
 Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them, for they know not 
 what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots 
 
 And the people stood beholding. And the rulers also with 
 them derided him, saying, He saved others ; let him save him- 
 self, if he be Christ, the chosen of God. 
 
 And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him and offer- 
 ing him vinegar, 
 
 And saying. If thou be the King of tiie Jews, save thy- 
 self. 
 
 And a surperscription was also written over him, in letters 
 of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew, THIS IS THE KING OF 
 THE'JEWS. 
 
 And one of the malefactors which were hanged, railed on 
 him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us. 
 
 But the other answering;, rebuked him^ saying. Dost thou 
 not fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation ? 
 
 And we indeed justly ; for we receive the due reward of our 
 deeds : but this man hath done nothing amiss. 
 
 And he said iinto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou 
 comest into thy kingdom. 
 
 And Jesus said unto him. Verily I say unto thee. To-day 
 shalt thou be with me in Paradise. 
 
 And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness 
 over all the earth until the ninth hour. 
 
 And the sun was darkened, and the vail of the temple was 
 rent in the midst. 
 
 And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, 
 Father, into thy hands I commend ray spirit; and having 
 said thus, he gave up the ghost. 
 
 Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified 
 God, saying certainly this was a righteous man. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 57 
 
 • The Wise Bird and the Foolish Ones. — A Fahle. 
 
 Once, on a rnQminp: in winter, tlie sun slione brightly, and 
 the air was as miid and warm as if it were the month of June. 
 The sun had melted the snow away, and the buds had almost 
 begun to appear on the troes. 
 
 The little birds assembled iu the grove, and some of them 
 said that the spring had come, and that it was time to choose 
 their mates and build their nests. 
 
 But there was an old bird who advised them not to be so fast, 
 lie told them that he had seen many sucli warm days in winter, 
 before the cold weather was past, lie said that the snow and 
 the frost would come again, and that the weather would bo too 
 cold for them to build their nests. 
 
 " Wait a little while," said the wise old bird ; " wait a little 
 longer, until the winter is past, with its snow and its ice, and 
 until the weather has become settled and warm." 
 
 AVliile the old bird was talking, up jumped a pert young 
 gold-finch. lie had a smooth head, that shone like satin, 
 and bright and beautiful wings; and he thought that he was 
 very wise. 
 
 lie told the other birds not to mind what the old bird said. 
 lie declared that he knew that the winter was over ; and that, 
 for his part, he intended to choose his mate, and build hia 
 nest, without waiting any longer. 
 
 iMany of the other birds, said they would do so too. So 
 they built their nests, and laid their eggs, and thought they 
 were getting along ever so finely. But the old birds remained 
 quiet, waiting for settled weather. 
 
 Soon tlie cold winds began to blow once more. The rain^ 
 and the hail, and the snow, fell again, and filled the nests with 
 water and ice. The egss were all spoiled, and the young birds 
 now saw that they behaved in a very silly manner; and they 
 said they would listen the next time to the advice of the wise 
 old birds instead of those who had no experience. 
 
 The Boasting Girl and the Conceited Pigeon. 
 
 Anna Strong was a great boaster. She always wanted a 
 very long lesson, and would say, '' Indeed I can learn it allj 
 it is not too hard for me." But when she went to recite it to- 
 her teacher, she very often knew nothing about it, 
 4 
 
58 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READEH. 
 
 If any thing was to be done at home, or at school, Anna 
 "would always say, "/ knoF how; please let me do it;" even 
 
 if it was a thiog she could not do at aiL 
 
 One day, her teacher afked Bome one in the class, to point 
 out some cities on the map, so that all in (he class might see 
 them. Anna jumped up, and oeked the teacher to let her do 
 it, for that she could do it ytrj accurately. 
 
 The teacher gave consent, and Anna went to the map; but 
 she could not find a single city that the teacher asked for. — 
 So the teacher told her she was like the silly pigeon that the 
 fable tells about. 
 
 The fable says that when the pigeon first came into the 
 world, the other birds went to her, and offered to teach her 
 bow to build a nest. The robin showed her its nest, made of 
 straw and mud; the cat bird showed one made of sticks and 
 bark ; and the sparrow told how it had made its nest of hair 
 and moss. 
 
 But the -pigeon walked about in a very conceited manner, 
 tossing her head from one side to lbs other, and said to the 
 birds, ^'you need not tell me ; I know how to build a nest as 
 ■well as any of you " 
 
 The black-bird, and the dove, then ofiered their a,«si.stancr^, 
 and told the pigeon how thej made their nests. But the 
 pigeon would hardly listen to ihem, but kept saying, '-I know 
 how." 
 
 At last, the birds all went away, and left her ; but when 
 the pigeon attempted to build her nest, she found that she 
 knew nothing at all about it. And so she would not have had 
 a nest at all, if men had not taken pity on her, and built her 
 a pigeon-house, and put some hay in it. 
 
 When the teacher told her this fable, little Anna said t^.at 
 it is much better to be willing and anxious to learn, il.au to 
 be boastful, aad to pretend to know more than we do. 
 
 The Hare and the Tortoise, 
 
 Said a hare to a tortoise, ^' Good sir, what a while 
 You have been only crossing the way ; 
 
 Why I really believe that to go half a mile, 
 You must travel two nighty and a day." 
 
fHil COS'FKT)EtlAtE FIRST READER. ^ 59 
 
 *' I am very contented," the dfeature replied, 
 
 " Though I walk but tortoise's pace ; 
 But if you think proper the poiut to decide, 
 We will rt'.ii liali' n niih^ in a race." 
 
 (( YvMy good," said rhc )i:ire ; ,^aid the tortoise " Proceed, 
 
 And the fox shiil) decid<^. who has won;" 
 Then the hare started off with incredible speed j 
 
 But the tortoisse wulk'd Icisurt-ly on. 
 
 '^ Come, tortoise, iViond tortoise, walk on," said the hare, 
 
 " While I shall ,stay here for my dinner; 
 AVhy, 'twill take you a month, at that rate, to get there, 
 
 Then how can you hope lo be winner? " 
 
 But the tortoise could not hear a word that she said. 
 
 For he was far distant behind; 
 So the have felt secure whilst at leisure she fed, 
 
 And took a sound nap when she dined. 
 
 So at last this slow walkei* catne up with the hare. 
 
 And there fast asleep did he spy her; 
 And he cunningly crept with such caution and care. 
 That she woke not, although he pass'd by her. 
 
 " Well now," thought the hare, when she open'd her eyes, 
 ^^ For the race — and I soon shall have done it;" 
 
 But who can describe her chagrin and surprise, 
 When she found that the tortoise had won it? 
 
 Thus plain plodding people, we often shall find, 
 Will leave hasty confident people behind. 
 
 The Echo. 
 
 A little boy who had learned to bark like a dog, was one 
 day walking near a body of woods, when lie -thought he would 
 amuse himself by barking. So he said, "Bow! wow! wow!" 
 
 As soon as he had made these sounds, a voice in the woods 
 said " Bow ! wow ! wow ! " The little boy thought there was 
 a dog in the woods, and so he called out, " Doggy I doggy ! '' 
 
60 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 As soon as he had said this he heard a voice in the woods say 
 
 " Dogfry ! doggy ! '^ 
 
 " Who are you? '' said the little boy. ^' Who are you ?" 
 answered the voice in the woods. '' I am named Edmund 
 Blair," said the little boy. "I am named Edmund Blair," said 
 the voice in the woods. 
 
 "What do you mock me for?'' asked Edmund. ''What 
 do you mock me for ? '' was the answer which came back to 
 him. 
 
 ".If I can find you I will whip you/' said Edmund. " If I 
 can find you I will whip you," was the answer which quickly 
 came back from the woods. 
 
 This so frightened Edaiund, that he ran home, and told his 
 father that there was a bad boy in the woods, who had threat- 
 ened to whip him. His father laughed and told him that 
 the bad boy was named Echo. 
 
 Edmund's father then explained to him ; that when sound 
 goes from us, and strikes a hard body, like a tree, or a wall, 
 or a bank, it comes back to us, just as a ball does, if we throw 
 it against a house-side. When the sound thus returns to us, 
 we hear our own words over again, and this is called echo. 
 
 EdmuBd was no longer frightened after his father told him 
 what it was that answered him, and so he went back, and amused 
 himself a long time, talking to his echo. 
 
 The Little Lord and the Farmer s Boy. 
 
 A little lord, engaged in play, 
 Carelessly threw his ball away ; 
 So far beyond the brook it flew, 
 His lordship knew not what to do. 
 
 It chanced there passed a farmer's boy, 
 Whistling a tune in childish joy ; 
 His frock was patched, and his hat was old, 
 But the farmer's heart was very bold. 
 
 " You little chap ! pick up my ball ! " 
 His saucj lordship loud did call— ^ 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. gl 
 
 He thought it useless to be polite 
 
 To one whose clothes were in such a plight. 
 
 "Do it yourself, for want of me," 
 The boy replied right manfully; 
 Then quietly he passed along, 
 Whistling aloud his fav'rite song. 
 
 His little lordship furious grew — 
 
 For he was proud and hasty too. 
 
 *' I'll break your bones !" he rudely cries, 
 
 While fire was flashing from his eyes. 
 
 And heedless quite what steps he took, 
 He tumbled plump into the brook ; 
 And as he fell, he dropped his bat, 
 And next he lost his beaver hat. 
 
 Come, help me out!" enraged he cried — 
 But the sturdj^ farmer thus replied ; 
 ^'' Alter your tone, my little man, 
 And then I'll help you all I can— 
 
 " There are few things I would not dare 
 For gentlemen, who speak me fair; 
 But for rude words I do not choose 
 To tire my feet and wet my shoes. '^ 
 
 '' Please help me," then his lordship said ; 
 " I'm sorry I was so ill-bred." 
 " 'Tis all forgot," replied the hoj, 
 And gave his hand with honest joy. 
 
 The prolFered aid his lordship took, 
 And soon came safely from the brook ; 
 His looks were downcast and aside, 
 For he felt ashamed of his silly pride. 
 
 The farmer brought his ball and bat, 
 
 And wiped the wet from his drowning hat; 
 
 And he mildly said, as he went away, 
 
 *' Kemember the lesson you've learned to-day. 
 
^^ THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 ^' Be kind to all you chance to meet 
 In field, or lane, or crowded street; 
 Anger and pride are both unwise — 
 Vinegar never catches flies " 
 
 Against Persecuilon. — A l^arahle. ^ 
 
 And it came to pass after these things, that Aram sat in 
 the door of hi? tent, about the going down of the sun. 
 
 And . behold, a man, bowed with age, came from the way 
 of the wilderness, leaning upon a staff. 
 
 And Aram arose, and went to meet him, and said unto 
 him, Turn in I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all 
 night, and thou sbalt arise early on the morrow, and go thy 
 way. 
 
 And the man said. Nay, for I will abide under this tree. 
 But Aram pressed him greatl}^; so he turned, and they went 
 into the tent; and Aram baked unleavened bread, and they 
 did eat. ^ . 
 
 And when Araoj saw that the man blessed not God, he said 
 unto him. Wherefore dost thou not give thnnks, and worship 
 the most High Grod, Creator of heaven and earth ? 
 
 And the man answered and said, I do not worship the God 
 thou speakest off, neither do T •"•lU upon his name; for T have 
 made me a god which abideth in my houso, and providnth me 
 with all things. 
 
 And Aram's zeal was kindled against the man, and he arose 
 and fell upon him, and drove liim forth, with blows, into tlie 
 wilderness. 
 
 And at midnight, Aram henrd the voice of the Lord, say- 
 ing, Aram, where is the stranger that carfie unto thj- tent ? 
 
 And Aram answered and said, Lord, he would not worship 
 thee, neither would he call upon thynanie; wherefore have 
 I driven him out from before; njy fane, with blows, into the 
 wilderness. 
 
 And God said, Have I not borne with him a hundred and 
 ninety and eight years, and nourished him, and clothed him, 
 notwithstanding he hath rebelled against me, and couldst not 
 thou, that art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night? 
 
 And Aram said, Let not the anger of the Lord wax ho^ 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 63 
 
 o^ainst his servant; for, lo, I have sinned. And Aram arose, 
 and went forth into the wilderness, and sought diligently for 
 the man, and found him, and brought him to his tentj and 
 he treated him kindly and did set meat before him, and he 
 did eat. And v;hen the morrow came, he sent him away, with 
 gifts for his journey. 
 
 The Prodigal Son. 
 
 A certain m'^.n had two sons; and the younger of them said 
 to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth 
 to me. And he divided nnt(» Uiem his living. 
 
 Not many days after, the younger-son gathered all together, 
 and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his 
 substance in riotou;^ living. 
 
 And when ho had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in 
 that land ; and he begun to be in want 
 
 And ho went and joined hiuiself to n. citizen of that coun* 
 try ; and he sent hiin into his fields to feed swine. 
 
 And he would fain have filled himself with the husks that 
 the swine did eat; and no man gave unto him. 
 
 And when he c.ime to himself, he said. How many hired 
 servants of ray father's have bread enough and to spare, and 
 I perish with hunger ! 
 
 I will arise, and go to my father, and will say unto him, 
 Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, 
 
 And am rso more worthy to be called thy son : make me as 
 one of thy hired servants. 
 
 And he arose and came to his father. But when he was 
 yet a great way oif, his futher saw him, and had compassioa, 
 and ran and fell on his neck, and kissed him. 
 
 And the son said unto him. Father, I have sinned against 
 heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy, to be called 
 th}' ron. 
 
 But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best 
 robe, and put it on him ; and put a ring on his hand, and 
 shoes on his feet : 
 
 And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat 
 and be merry. 
 
 For this my son, was dead, and is alive again; he was lost 
 aud is ft/und. And th*^ began to be merry. 
 
61 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 The Better Land. 
 
 '' I hear thee speak of the better land ; 
 
 Thou call'st its children a happy band : 
 
 IMother! oh, where is that radiant shore ? 
 
 Shall we not seek it, and weep no more? 
 
 Is it where the flower of the ofaup;e blowg, 
 
 And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs?'* 
 
 *< Not there, not there, my child ! " 
 
 Is it .where the feathery palm-trees rise, 
 And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? 
 Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, 
 "Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze; 
 And strange, bright birds, en their starry wings,. 
 3kar the rich hues of all glvvrious things V 
 *' Not there, not there, my cliild ! '' 
 
 '' Is it far away in some region old, 
 AVhere the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? 
 Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, 
 And the diamond lights up the secret mine. 
 And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand, — 
 Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?" 
 • "Not there, not there, my child I" 
 
 ^^ Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy; 
 Ear hath not heard its deep sounds of joy; 
 Dreams cannot picture a world so fair; 
 Sorrow and death m-dy not enter there; 
 Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom ; 
 For beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb, 
 It is there, it is there, my child 1" 
 
 TIoio to Make the Best of It. 
 
 Robinet, a peasant of Lorraine, in France, w^s hastening' 
 houjc alter a hard day's work, with a little basket of provi- 
 sions in his hand. '' What a delicious supper I shall have ! " 
 said he to himself. This piece *of kid, well stewed down, 
 with my ouions sliced, thickened with my meal, and seasoned 
 
THE OONfEDERATE FIRST READEE, 65 
 
 with my gait and pepper, will make a dish fit for the bishop 
 of the diocese. TheQ I have a good piece of barley-loaf at 
 home, to finish with. How I long to be at it.'^ , 
 
 A noise close by, now attracted his notice, and he spied a 
 squirrel nimbly runtiing up a tree, and popping into a hole 
 between the branches, 'ila!" thoiiy;ht ho, "what a nice 
 present a nest o1i young squirrels will be to my littlo master. 
 I'll try if I can get it.'^ 
 
 Upon thi3,*he set down his basket iu the road, and began 
 io climb the tree. lie had h«lf ascended, v^'heu casting a look 
 at his basket, he saw a dog with his nose in it, ferretting out 
 the piece of kid's ficsh. .He mnde all possible speed down, 
 but the dog vras too quick for htin, and ran off with the meat 
 i?j his mou'h. Uobiiret could only look after him. " Well/' 
 said he, '* then I must be coatcnted with soup-maigre, — and 
 no bad thi'og eilher." 
 
 lie travelled on, and eanie to :;m inn on the road-side, where 
 an acquaintance was sitting, who invited him to stop. K-obinet 
 took a seat on the bene]i,and set his busket close by him. A 
 tame rciven, which was kept at the house, came slyly behind 
 l)im, and stole away the bug in which the meal was tied up, 
 and hopped off with it to his hole. 
 
 Kobinct did not mis3 the bag until he had started on hh 
 journey ngain. Ife then returned' to search for it, but could 
 hear no tidings of it. "We!)," says he', "my soup will be the 
 thininer; but I will boil a slice of broad in it, and that will do 
 some good at least." 
 
 lie went on ag'^in, snd arrived at a little brook, over which 
 was laid a narrow plank. A y^ung woman coming up to pass 
 at the same time, Robinet politely offered her his hand, to 
 assist her. As soon as she got to the middle, either through 
 fear or sport, she cried out that she v\ras falling. Robinet, 
 ha.^tening to support her with his other hand, let his basket 
 drop into the stream. 
 
 As soon as he had conducted her .safely over, Robinet 
 j'.nnped into the water, and recovered his basket; but when 
 ho took it out, he perceived that all tiie salt was melted, and 
 the pepp?r washed away. Notliing wis now left but the 
 onions. "Well," says Robinet, "then I must Rup to night on 
 roasted onions and barley-bread. Last n;ght I had the bread 
 alone. To-morrow niyv-ning it will not t^'gulfy what I l^ad.** 
 So'fia^iOj.', ^» tradgv»i on, eincriug as c:.«..**'fuiiy ae ever. 
 
 4* 
 
^g ' THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER* 
 
 The Discontented Mole. — A Fable. 
 
 A j'oiyag mole havinpr crept out into the sun one day, met 
 Tvith its mother, and began to complain of its lot. " I have 
 been tliinkiug," said he, *' that we load a very stupid life, 
 burrowing under the ground, and dwelling in perpetu-.il dark- 
 ness. Fur my part, I think it would be much better to live 
 above-board, and caper about in the sunlight like the squir- 
 rels." 
 
 ^' It may seem so to you," said the wise old mole, ''but 
 beware of forming hasty opinions. It is an old remark, that 
 it takes all sorts of people to make a world. Some cixiaturcs 
 live upon the trees; but nature has provided them with claws, 
 v/hich make it easy and safe for them to climb. Some dwell 
 in the water; but they arc supplied with fins, which render 
 it easy for them to move about, nnd with a contrivance by 
 means of which they breathe where other creatures would 
 drown. JP 
 
 *' Some creatures glide tlirough the air; but they are en- 
 dowed with wings, without which, it would be vain to attempt 
 to fly. The truth is, that every individual is made to fill 
 8omc place in the scale of being ; and he best seeks his owa- 
 happiuess in following the path which his Creator has marked 
 out for him. 
 
 *' We may wisely seek to better our condition, by making 
 that p:ith as pleasant as possible, but not attempt to pursue 
 one which we are unfitted to follow. You will best consult 
 your iiiterest, by endeavoring to enjoy all that properly be- 
 long.s to a Miole, instead of strivin^' to swim like a fi^h, climb 
 like a squirrel, or fly like a bird. C^mtentnu-nt is the jrreat 
 blessing of life You nujy enjoy this in the quiet security of 
 your sheltered abode; the proudest tenant of the earth, air, 
 or sea, can do no more." 
 
 The young mole replied: ''This imiy seem very wise to 
 you, but it sounds like nonsense to me. I am determined to 
 burrow in the earth no more, but dash out in style, like other 
 g:iy people." So sayini?, he crept upon a little mound for tho 
 purjo-e of looking: about, and seeing what course of pleasure 
 he shou'd ad"jit. Wiiilo in this sifu^tion, he was snaj>ped up 
 by a hiiwk, who carried him to a tall tree, and devoured hui\ 
 without (ereinony. 
 
 This fiible tcichcs us to be gpntcntc(i with our lot. Wo 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. ^7 
 
 should patiently perform the duties of the position in which 
 we arc placed, and be satisfied with the pleasures and ad- 
 vantages which Providence has placed within our reach. 
 
 The Eyes and the Nose. 
 
 Between Nose and Eyes, a i^trange contest arose ; 
 
 The spectacles set them, unhappily, wrong. 
 The point in dispute was, as all the world l?nows, 
 
 To which the said spectacles ought to belong. 
 
 So 'I'ongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause, 
 
 With a gieat deal of skill, sod a wig full of learning; 
 
 While Chief Baron Ear sat to balance the laws, 
 So famed for his talent in nicelv^ dihcerniug. 
 
 ^' iii behalf cf the Nose, it will quickly appear, 
 
 And your lovd.ihip,'' he said, " will undoubtedly find, 
 
 That the Nose has had spectacles always to wear, 
 Which amounts to possession; time out of mind/' 
 
 Then holding the spectacles up to the court, — 
 
 " Your lordship observes, they are made with a .straddle, 
 
 As wide as the ridge of the nose is; in short, 
 Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. 
 
 ''Again, would your lordship, a moment, suppose, 
 ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again,) 
 
 That the visage or countenance had not a nose, — 
 Pray who would, or could, wear spectacles then ? 
 
 " On the whole it appears, and my argument sho^^?t, 
 With a reasoning the court will never condemn. 
 
 That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, 
 And the Nose was as plainly intended for them." 
 
 Then shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how,) 
 
 lie pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes. 
 But what wore his arguments, few people know, 
 
 For tbo court did sot tbiuk they wcro cc^uaUy wiao. 
 
6g THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone, 
 Decisive and clear, without one //' or hut, — 
 
 That whenever the Nose put the spectacles on, 
 
 Bj daylight or candle- light, — Eyes should be shut. 
 
 • The French Youth 
 
 A youth who had been admitted into a luilitary school in 
 France, soon attracted the attention of his comrades by his 
 great abstemiousness. Although a variety of food was placed 
 upon the tabic, he never partook of any thing but broad and 
 fioup, and drank nothing but water. 
 
 His teacher being informed of the conduct of the youih, 
 ascribed it to mistaken devotion, and gave him a reproof. But 
 the youth per^^iticd in his course, and it was ttnally brought 
 to the knowledge of the snp<^rintendont of the school. 
 
 The superintendent brought the boy before him, and gently 
 informed him that such singuliirity of conduct excited remark, 
 and produced disorder, f-nd vras by no means proper in a pub- 
 lic instution; and he told him he must conform to the rules 
 and the diet of the school. 
 
 The superintendent tiieu inquired of ihQ youth liis reason 
 for acting in the manner he had done; but the latter was un- 
 willing to aasv'er. The superintendent, at Inst, threatened 
 that if he still persisted in hi? refusal to explain hiuiseU', ho 
 should be compelled to return him home again to his family. 
 This menace had the desired eiiect, and the youth then dis- 
 closed the motive of his conduct. 
 
 ^^ You will not, I hope, be dippleased with me, sir," said 
 he; ^'but I could not bring myself to enjoy what I think 
 luxury, while I reflect that my dear father and mother, are in 
 the utmost indigence. They could afford themseU'es and me 
 no better food than coarse brown bread, and of that, but very 
 little. Hero, I have excellent soup, and an abuudauce oi 
 good white bread. The recoUectiou of the situation in which 
 I left my parents, would not permit me to indulge myself by 
 eating any thing else." 
 
 The superintendent could not restrain his tears, at such an 
 instance of filial love and sensibility. " Has not your father 
 been in the military service," he inquired. " Why, then, 
 litis ho ,9a peubioa ?/' ^' For want of friends aud moneys sir/' 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. Qg 
 
 ^•eplied the youth. " He waited upon the gOYernment^ seek- 
 ing for a pension, until his money became exhausted ; and 
 rather than contract debts, he is content to languish in the 
 manner I liave told you." 
 
 "Well/' said the superintendent, "'^ii* the facts are as you 
 have stated them, I will be a friend to your father. I will 
 un-dertakti to procure his pension for him. In the mean time, 
 here are three pieces of gold for yourself, as a present from 
 the king; and I wiii send 3^our father a month's pay in ad- 
 vance, out of the pension which I am sure of obtaining for 
 him.^' 
 
 '■ Ifow can you send the money to him?" asked the boy. 
 '' jjet that give you no uneasiness," replied the superintendent. 
 "' I shall find a way." '- A.h, sir," said the boy with eager- 
 ness, "if vou can send it so e:isi!v, will vou be kind enough 
 to send him also these three pieces of gold, wl.dcli you wer^ 
 so ^ood Jis to cive me ? Here I am in want of nothiMii;: and 
 they will be of the greatest service to my fafher, in assisting 
 him to provi'le for niy brothers and sisters.'' 
 
 T/ie Battle of Blcnheir^. 
 
 It was on a summer evening, 
 
 Old Kaspar's work was done, 
 And he, before his cottage door, 
 
 Was sitting in the sun ; 
 And by him spited on the green. 
 His little grandcnild Wilhelmine. 
 
 8he saw her brotlier Peterkin 
 Roll something large and round. 
 
 Which he b;siue the rivulet, 
 In pi lying there, had found ; 
 
 He came to askv/h.jt he had found, 
 
 That Was so laFj^e, and saieotb, and round. 
 
 Old Kaspar took it from (he boy, 
 
 Who stood expectant by ; 
 Aod then tJie old man shook hiH hcad^ 
 
 And with a natural sigh, 
 " 'Tia ftome poor felIo".r's skull," gaid he, 
 ^' ^Vho toll iu the great victory . 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER, 
 
 '< I find them in the garden, 
 For there's many here about ; 
 
 And often when I go to plough, 
 The plouglishave turns them out; 
 
 For many thousand men/' said he, 
 
 ^' ^Yere slain in that great victory." 
 
 ^'Now tell us what 'twas all about,'^ 
 
 Young Peterkin, he cries ; 
 While little Wilhelmine looks up, 
 
 With wonder-waiting eyes ; 
 " Now tell us all about the war, 
 And what they killed each other for/* 
 
 ^^ It was the English," Kaspar ciied, 
 " Who put the French to rout, 
 
 But what they killed each other for. 
 I could not well make out. 
 
 But every body said," quoth he, ■ 
 
 "'That 'twas a famous victory. " 
 
 " My father lived at Blenheim then, 
 
 Yon little stream, hard by; 
 They burnt his dwelling to the gromidj 
 
 And he was f jrced to fly ; 
 So, v/ith his wife and child, he fled. 
 Nor had he where tciijfest his head. 
 
 ''With fire and sword, the country round 
 
 Was wasted, far and wide ; 
 And many a nursing mother then, 
 
 And new-born baby died ; 
 But things like that, you know, must be 
 At every famous victory. 
 
 ^^ They say it was a shocking sight 
 
 After the field was won ; 
 For many thousand bodies here 
 
 L;iy rotting in the sun ; 
 But things like that, you Ildow^ m^s,t be 
 After 9- toous victory, 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 71 
 
 " Great praiso the Duke of Marlbro' won, 
 
 And our young prinne, Eugene." 
 *' Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" 
 
 Said.iiltle Will'.elmine, 
 "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, 
 "It was a famous victory, 
 
 "And every body praised the Duke, 
 
 Who this great tight did win." 
 " But what good came of it at last ?" 
 
 Quoth little Peterkin. 
 "' Why, that I cannot tell," said he, 
 " But 'twas a glorious victory." 
 
 TJie Day of Judgment. 
 
 When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and the holy 
 angels vi^ith him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his 
 glory : 
 
 And before him shall be gathered all nations; and he shall 
 separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth bis 
 sheep from the goats : ~ 
 
 Aud he ehall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats 
 on tlie left. 
 
 Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, 
 Come, ye blessed of my Father, iiiherit the kingdom prepared 
 for you. from the foundation of the world : 
 
 For I was an hungered, and yc gave me meat: I was thirst}'', 
 and ye gave me drink : I was u stranger, and ye took me in : 
 
 Nuked, and ye clothed me : I was sick, aud ye visited me : 
 I was in prison, aud ye came unto me. 
 
 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when 
 saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, aud gave 
 thee drink ? 
 
 When saw we tlico a strangcrj and took thee in? or naked, 
 and clothed thee ? 
 
 Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto 
 thee ? . . 
 
 Aud the Iving Bha,ll answer and say uijtQ tl;cm, Vorily, I 
 
72 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER, 
 
 say unto you, Inasmucli as ye have done it unto one of the 
 least of these my brethren, ye bave done it unto me. 
 
 Then shall he also say unto them on the left hand, Depart 
 from ma, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for th^ 
 devil and his angels : 
 
 For I was an hungered, an'^ ye gave me no meat: 1 was 
 thirsty, and ye gave me no driiik : i was a stranger, and ye 
 took me not in : or naked, and ye clothed me not: sick and 
 in prison, and ye visited me not. 
 
 Then shall the}'- also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw 
 we tliee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or 
 sick, or in prison, aud did not minister unto thee 't 
 
 I'hea shall he answer them, saying, Verily, I say unto you, 
 Inasmuch as yc did it not to one of the least of these, ye did 
 it not to mo. 
 
 And these shall go their wnj into everlaijting punishment : 
 but the riiihteous into life eternal. 
 
 21ie Doomed Man. 
 
 There is a time, we know not when^ 
 A point we know not where, 
 
 T]>at marks the destiny of men ^ 
 
 To glory or despair. • 
 
 •There is a line, by us unseen, 
 
 That crosstiS every 'path ; 
 The hidden boundary between 
 
 G.od's patience and his wrath. 
 
 To pass that limit is to die, 
 
 To die as if bysteakh; 
 It does not quench the beaming eye, 
 
 Or pale the glow of health. 
 
 The conscience may be still at ease, 
 
 The epirit Hght and g<iy, 
 That which is pleasing, still vuay pleai-i^, 
 
 And uaro be thruab a^s-j. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. Y3 
 
 But on that forehead God has set 
 
 Indelibly a mark ; 
 Unseen by man, for man as yet, 
 
 Is blind and in the dark. 
 
 And yet the doomed man's path below, 
 
 Like*Eden may have bloomed, 
 He did not, does not, will not know, ^ 
 
 Or feel that he is doomed. 
 
 He knows, he feels that all is well. 
 
 And every fear is calmed ; 
 He lives, Le die^^, he wakes in hell. 
 
 Not only dooiijed, but damned. 
 
 0, where is this mysterious bourn, 
 
 By which our path is crossed ; 
 Beyond which, God himself has sworn, 
 
 That he who goes, is lost ! 
 
 How far may we go on in sin ? 
 
 How long will God forbear? 
 Where does hope end, and where begin 
 
 The confines of despair? 
 
 An answer from the ?;ky is sent, 
 
 Ye tliat from God depart, 
 While it is called to-day repent, 
 
 And harden not your heart. 
 
 The WJusfle. 
 
 "When I was a child of seven years old," says Dr. Frank- 
 lin, " my friends, on a holyday, filled my pocket with half- 
 pence. 
 
 " I went directly towards a shop where toys for children 
 were sold; and being charmed with the sound of a whistle 
 that I met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I volun- 
 tarily offered him all my money for it. 
 
74: THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 " Thei^ I came home, and went whistling over the house, 
 much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all *he family. 
 My brothers, and Bisters, and cousins, understanding the bar- 
 gain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for 
 it as it was worth. 
 
 "This put me in mind what good things I might have 
 bought with the rest of m.y monej, and they laughed at mo 
 so much for my folly, that 1 cried with venation. My rejec- 
 tions on the subject gave me more chagrin, than the whistle 
 gave me pleasure. ■• 
 
 ''This little eventjiiowever, was afterwards of use to me, 
 the impression continuing on my mind : so that often, v;hen 
 I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to my-' 
 self, 'Do not give too much for the whistle;' and so I saved 
 my money. 
 
 "As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the 
 actions of men, I thought I met with m.any, very many, who 
 gave too much fur the v/histle. 
 
 " When I saw any one too ambitious of couvt-favor, sacri- 
 ficing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, 
 his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I I..-. re said to 
 myself, ' This rijan gives too much for his whistle.' 
 
 "When I saw another forid of popular! iy, constanily cn>- 
 ploying himself in political bustles, neglecting his own alfairs, 
 and raining them by that neglect: 'He pays indeed,' said I, 
 ' too much for his whistle/ 
 
 " If I knew a miser, who gave u]) every kind cf comfortable 
 living, all the pleasures of doing good to others, all the esteem 
 of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, 
 for the sake of accumulating wealth : ' Poor man ! ' said I, 
 ' you indeed pay too much for your whistle/ 
 
 "When I met a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudcible 
 improvement of mind, or of fortune, to mere sensual gratifica- 
 tions: 'Mistaken man,' said T, 'you are providing pain for 
 yourself, instead of pleasure : you give too much for your 
 whistle/ 
 
 " If I saw one fond of fine cloihes, fine furniture, fine 
 equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracted 
 debts, and ended his career in prison: 'Alas!' said I, ' he 
 has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.' 
 
 " In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of 
 mankind, were brought upon them by th$ false estimate they 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 75 
 
 had made of the value of things^ and t)y their giviug too much 
 for their whistles.'^ 
 
 My Life in like the Summer Rose, 
 
 My life is like the surumer rose, 
 
 Wliich opens to the morning sky, 
 But, ere the shades of evening close, 
 Are scattered on the ground to die, 
 Yet on the rose's humble head 
 The softest dews of night are sl'.ed, 
 As though she wept such waste to see — 
 But none shall shed one tenr for me. 
 
 My life is like the autumn leaf, 
 
 That trembles in the moon's pale ray : 
 Its hold is frail, its date is brief, 
 
 llestless, and soon to pass away. 
 Yet, when that leaf shall fall and fade, 
 The parent tree shall mourn its shade ; 
 The winds bewail the leafless J:rec — 
 But none shall brentho one sigh for me. 
 
 My life is like the priot of feet 
 
 Left on I'ampa's desert strand ; 
 Soon as the rising tide shall beat, 
 
 All trace shall vanish from the sand. 
 Yet, as grieving to efface v- 
 
 All vestige of the human race, 
 On th'it lone shore loud moans the sea — 
 But none shall thus lament for me. 
 
 Jndustrij Rcicardvd 
 
 A rich husbandman had two sons, the one exactly a year 
 older than the other. The very day the second was born, he 
 set, in the cutrance of his orchard, two young apple-trees of 
 equal size, which he euUivated with the same e-:ue, and which 
 
76 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 grew so equally, that no person could perceive the least dif- 
 ference between them. 
 
 When Ills children were capable of handling garden tools, 
 he took them, one fine morning in spring, to^ee these two 
 trees, which he had planted for them, and called after their 
 names; and when they had sufficiently admired their growth, 
 and the number of blossoms that covered them, he said : 
 
 ^' My dear children, I give you these trees; you see they 
 are in good condition. They will thrive as much by your 
 care, as they will decline by your negligence; and their fruit 
 will reward you in proportion to your labor.'' 
 
 The youngest, named Edmund, was industrious and atten- 
 tive. He busied himself in clearing his tree of insects that 
 would hurt it ; and he propped up its stem^ to prevent its 
 taking a wrong hent. 
 
 He loosened the earth about it, that the warmth of the sun, 
 and the moisture of the dews, might cherish the roots. His 
 mother had not tended him more carefully in his infancy, than 
 he tended his young" apple-tree. 
 
 ' His brother, Moses, 'did not imitate his example. He spent 
 a great deal of time on a mount that was near, throwing stones 
 at the passengers in the road. Ho went among all the little 
 dirty country boys in the neighborhood, to box with them; so 
 that he was often. seen with broken shins and black eyes, from 
 the kicks and blows he received in his quarrels. 
 
 In short, he neglected his tree so far, that he never thought 
 of it, till one da}'- in autumn he by chance saw Edmund's tree 
 so full of apples streaked with purple and gold, that had it 
 not been for the props which supported its branches, the 
 weight of Its fruit must have bent it to the ground. 
 
 Struck with the sight of so fine a tree, he hastened to his 
 own, hoping to find as large a crop upon it ; but, to his great 
 surprise, he saw scarcely any thing, except branchss covered 
 with moss, and a few yellow withered leaves. 
 
 Full of passion and jealousy, he ran to his father, and said : 
 *' Father, what sort of a tree is that which you have given me? 
 It is as dry as a broomstick ; and I shall not have ten apples 
 on it. My brother you have used better : bid him at least 
 share his apples with me." 
 
 ^' Share with you!" said his father; ^^so the industrious 
 must lose his labor, to feed the idle ! Be satisfied with your 
 lot : it is the effect of your negligence ; and do not think to 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 77 
 
 accuse me of injustice, wheu you see your brother's rich crop. 
 Your tree was as fruitful, and in as good order as his ; it bore 
 as many blossoms, and grew in the same soil, only it was not 
 fostered with the same care. 
 
 "Edmund has kept his tree clear of Imrtful insects; but, 
 you have suffered them to eat up yours in its blossoms. As I 
 do not choose to let ai>y thing which God has given me, and 
 for which I hold myself accountable to Him. go to ruin, I 
 shall take this tree from you, and call it no more by your 
 name. 
 
 '• It must pass through your brother's hands, before it can 
 recover itself; and from this moment, both it and the fruit it 
 may bear are his property. You may, if you will, go into my 
 nursery, and look for another, and rear it, to make amends for 
 your fault; but if you neglect it, that too shall be given to 
 your brother, for assisting me in my labor," 
 
 Moses felt the justice of his father's sentence, and the wis- 
 dom of his design. He, therefore, went that moment into the 
 nursery, and chose one of the most thriving apple-trees he 
 could find. Edmund assisted him with his advice in rearing 
 it; and Moses embraced every occasion of paying attention 
 to it. 
 
 He was now never out of humor with his comrades, and 
 still less with himself; for he applied himself cheerfully to 
 work; and in autumn, he had the pleasure of seeing his tree 
 fully answer his hopes. Thus he had the double advantage, 
 of enriching himself with a splendid crop of fruit, and at the 
 same time of subduing the vicious habits he had contracted. 
 His father was so well pleased with this change, that the fol- 
 lowing year he divided the produce of a small orchard between 
 him and his brother. 
 
 The Fall of the Leaf. 
 
 See the leaves around ye falling;, 
 Dry and withered, to the ground, 
 
 Thus to thoughtless mortals calling, 
 In a sad and solemn sound : 
 
 *' Sons of Adam, once in Eden, 
 Whence like us he blighted fell, 
 
THE rONFEDKKATE FIRST f«^\DEtt. 
 
 Hear tlic lecture we are reading, 
 'Tis, alas! tlie I ruth we tell." 
 
 ♦• Vlrtc'ins, mu'-]i, ton inucli ])rcs!iTuing, 
 (.)ij 3'our bo:i.-s!e.l white aii'J "ctl, 
 
 \levf us, late in hcmty blooming:;, 
 JS'uiiibcr'*i now ainunjjr ihc dea«l. 
 
 *o 
 
 *' Gripin;! misers-, uiirhtly waking, 
 vSce the e:j<l of all vour cnrc ; 
 
 Fled on winiis of our own luakiuir, 
 We have left our owners bare. 
 
 ^' Sons of honor, fed on praises, , 
 
 Flutt'riiig lii^h in fancied worth, 
 Lo, the fiv-kie nir that raises, 
 
 ]3r)'.<)^ n - 'I.KV'i to paront c;irt,h. 
 
 ''Learned sires, ia systems j:i<led, 
 Wiio for new ones daily c.ill, 
 
 Oe-»!ie, at length, by us persuaded, 
 Every leaf must have s f;i.ll. 
 
 " Youth, yet rio losses grieve you. 
 Gay in health and many a grace, 
 
 Let not eloudless skies deceive you, 
 Summer gives to Autumn place. 
 
 •' On the tree of life eternal, 
 
 j\Ian, let all thy hopes be stay'd, 
 
 Which jilone, forever vernal. 
 
 Bears the leaves that never fade/' 
 
 Mungo Paries Travels in Africa. 
 
 I waited more than two hours, without having an oppor- 
 tunity of crossing the river ; during whicli time the people, 
 who had crossed, carried information to Mansong, the king, 
 that a white man was waiting for a passage, and was coming 
 to see him. 
 
THE CONFEDEllA-rE FIRST READER. 7^ 
 
 He immediately sent over one of his chief meD, who in- 
 formed me that the king couM not possibly 8ce me, until he 
 knew what had brought me into his countr}^, and that I must 
 not presume to cross the river without the king',s permission, 
 
 lie, therefore, advised me to lodge at a distant vilhige, to 
 wliich he pointed, for the night; and said that/in the morn- 
 ing, ho wonid give me further instructions how to conduct 
 myself. 
 
 This was very discouraging. However, as there was no 
 remedy, I set otl" for the village, where I found, to my great 
 mortification, that no person would admit me into his house. 
 
 I was regarded with astonishment and fear, and was obliged 
 to sit all day, withuut victuals, in the shade of a tree; and the 
 night threatened to be very uncomfortable, for the wind rose 
 and there was great appearance of a heavy raio ; and the wild 
 beasfs are so very numerous in the neighborhood, that I should 
 have been under the necessity of climbiuig up the tree, and 
 resting among the branches. 
 
 About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass the 
 night in this manner, and had turned ray horse loose that he 
 might graze at liberty, a woman returning from the labors of 
 the field, stopped to observe me, and perceiving that I was 
 weary and dejected, inquired into my situation, which I briefly 
 explained to her; whereupon, with looks of great compas- 
 sion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and told me to follow 
 her. 
 
 Having conducted me into her hut, she lighted up a lamp, 
 spread a mat on the floor, and told me I might remain there 
 for the night. Finding that I v/as very hungry, she said she 
 Avould procure me something to eat. She accordingly went 
 out, and returned in a short time with a very fine fish, which, 
 having caused to be half broiled upon some embers, she gave 
 me for supper. 
 
 The rights of hospitality being thus performed tov>'ards a 
 stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress, pointing to the 
 mat, and telling me I might sleep there without apprehension, 
 called to the female part of her family, who had stood gazing 
 on me all the while in fixed astonishment, to resume their task 
 of spinning cotton, in which they continued to employ them- 
 selvis great part of the night. 
 
 They lightened their labors by songs, one of which was 
 composed extempore, for I wjis myself the subject of it. It 
 
80 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST REAPER. 
 
 was sunp by one of the young ■women, the re?t joininp: irt a 
 sort of chorus. The idr was sweet and plaintive, and the 
 \YordF, htv rally tiauslated, were those : 
 
 " The wind* roared and the rains fell. Tlio poor white 
 man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree. lie has 
 no mother to brin^ him milk ; no wife to grind him corn. 
 Chorus — Let us pity the white man ; no mother has he to 
 brin^ him milk ; no wife to grind him corn." 
 
 Trifling as this recital muy appear to the reader, to a person 
 in ray situation, the circumstance was affecting in the highest 
 degree ; I was oppressed by such unexpected kindness, and 
 sleep fled from my eyes. In the morning, I presented my 
 compassionate landlady with two of the lour brass buttons 
 which remained on my waistcoat, the only recompense I could 
 make her. 
 
 The song of the negroes, above related, has been turned 
 into the following verses by the Duchess of Devonshire: 
 
 The loud wind roar'd, the rain fell fast; 
 The white man yielded to the blast; 
 He sat him down beneath our tree, 
 For W'.'ary, sad, and faint was he; 
 And, ah ! no wife nor mother's c.arc, 
 For him the milk or corn prepare. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The white man shall our pity share; 
 Alas! no wife nor mother's care, 
 For him the milk or corn prepare. 
 
 ' The storm is o'er, the tempest past, 
 And Mercy's Voice has hush'd the blast: 
 The wind is heard in whispers low; 
 The white man far away must go; 
 l^ut ever in his heart will bear 
 llcmembrance of the negro's care. 
 
 CII0RTJ8. 
 
 Go, white man, go — but with thee bear 
 The negro's wish, the negro's prayer, 
 llemembraace of the negro's care. 
 
p 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 81 
 
 The Wonderful Chip. 
 
 The following narrative, by Mr. Williams, missionary to 
 Rarotonga, describes, in a striking manner, the feelings of an 
 untaught people, when observing for the first time the effects 
 of written communications. 
 
 " In the erection of my chapel," says he, " having come to 
 the work one morning without my square, I picked up a. chip, 
 and with a piece of charcoal wrote upon it a request that Mrs. 
 Williams would send me that article. 
 
 '' I called a chief, who was superintending a part of the 
 work, and said to him, ^Friend, take this; go to our house, 
 and give it to Mrs. Williams.' 
 
 ,. " He was a singular looking man, remarkably quick in his 
 movements, and had been a great warrior ; but, in one of the 
 numerous battles he had fought, he had lost an eye; and, 
 giving me an inexpressible look with the other, he said : 
 ' Take that I She will call me a fool, and scold me, if I carry 
 a chip to her.' ^No,' 1 replied, ^she will not; take it and 
 go immediately ; I am in haste.' 
 
 " Perceiving me to be in earnest, he took it, and asked, 
 ' What must I say ?' I replied, * You have nothing to say ; 
 the chip will say all I wish.' 
 
 '^ With a look of astonishment and contempt, he held up the 
 piece of wood, and said, ' How can this speak ? Has this a 
 mouth V I desired him to take it immediately, and not spend 
 so much time talking about it. 
 
 " On arriving at the house, he gave the chip to Mrs. Wil- 
 liams, who read it, threw it away, and went to the tool chest. 
 The chief, resolved to see the result of this mysterious pro- 
 ceeding, followed her closely. On receiving the square from 
 her, he said, 'Stay, daughter; how do you know that this is 
 what Mr. Williams wants?' 
 
 '"•Why,' she replied, ^did you not bring me a chip just 
 now?' ^ Yes,' said the astonished warrior, 'but I did not 
 hear it say anything.' ' If you did not, I did,' was the reply, 
 ' for it made known to me what he wanted ; and all you have 
 to do is to return with it as quickly as possible.' 
 
 *' With this the chief leaped out of the house, and, catching 
 up the mysterious piece of wood, he ran through the settle- 
 ment with the chip in one hand, and the square in the other, 
 holding them up as high as his bauds would reach, and shout- 
 6 
 
82 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 ing as lie went, ^ See the wisdom of these English people ! 
 They can make chips talk ! They can make chips talk '/ 
 
 " On giving me the square, he wished to know how it was 
 possible thus to converse with persons at a distance. I gave 
 him all the explanation in my power ; but it was a circum- 
 stance involved in so much mystery, that he actually tied a 
 string to the chip, hung it around his neck, and wore it for 
 some time. 
 
 " During several days, we frequently saw him, surrounded 
 by a crowd, who were listening with intense interest, while he 
 narrated the wonders the chip had performed.'' 
 
 A Pleasant Surprise. 
 
 A young man of eighteen or twenty, a student in a univer- 
 sity, took a walk one day with a professor, who was commonly 
 called the student's friend, such was his kindness to the young 
 men whom it was his ♦ffice to instruct. While they were 
 walking together, and the professor was seeking to lead the 
 conversation to grave subjects, they saw a pair of tld shoes 
 lying in their path, which they supposed to belong to a poor 
 man who was at work close by, and who had nearly finished 
 his day's task. 
 
 The young sj;udent turned to the professor, saying, *• Let us 
 play the man a trick; we will hide his shoes, and conceal our- 
 selves behind those bushes, and watch his perplexity when he 
 cannot find them." " My dear friend," answered the profes- 
 sor, ^'we must never amuse ourselves at the expense of the 
 poor. But you are rich, and you may give yourself a much 
 greater pleasure by means of this poor man. Put a dollar into 
 each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves." 
 
 The student did so, and then placed himself, with the pro- 
 fessor, behind the bushes close by, through which they could 
 easily watch the laborer, and see whatever wonder or joy he 
 might express. The poor man soon finished his woi-k, and 
 came across the field to the path, where he had left his coat 
 and shoes. While he put on the coat, he slipped one fott 
 into one of his shoes; but, feeling something hard, he stooped 
 down and found the iollftr. Astonishment and wonder were 
 seen upon his countenftnce. He gazed upon the dollar, turned 
 
THE CONFEDERATB FIRST READER. 83 
 
 it around, and look«d again and again ; then he looked around 
 him on all sides, but could see no one. 
 
 He put the money in his pocket, and then proceeded to put 
 on the other shoe ; but how great his surprise when he found 
 the other dollar ! His feelings overcame him. He saw that 
 the money was a present, and he fell upon his knees, looked 
 up to heaven, and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgivinj:;, in 
 which he spoke of his wife sick and helpless, and his children 
 without bread, whom this timely bounty from some unknown 
 hand, would save from perishing. 
 
 The young man was deeply affected, and tears filled his 
 eyes. " Now," said the professor, " are you not much better 
 pleased than if you had played your intended trick ?" " O, 
 dearest sir," answered the youth, ''you have taught me a 
 lesson that I will never forget ! I feel now the truth of the 
 words, which I never before underitood, ^ It is better to give 
 than to receive.' We should never approach the poor but 
 with the wish to do th§m good." 
 
 The Spider and iht Fly.—A Fahlt. 
 
 " Will you walk into my parlor ? " said a spider to a fly ; 
 
 '' ^Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy. 
 
 The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, 
 
 And I .have many pretty thiigs to show you when you are 
 
 there." 
 " Oh no, no," said the little fly, " to ask me is in vain, 
 For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down 
 
 again." 
 
 " I'm sure you miist be weary with soaring up so high ; 
 Will you rest upon my little bed ? " said the spider to the fly, 
 ''There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine 
 
 and thin ; 
 And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in." 
 " Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said, 
 Th«y never, never, wake again^ who sleep upon your bed." 
 
 Said the cunning spider to the fly, " Dear friend, what ihall 
 
 I do. 
 To prove th« warm aflftctiou I hart always felt for you ? 
 
g4r THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice ; 
 I'm sure you're very welcome; will you please to take a slice?" 
 " Oh no, no," said the little fly; *' kind sir, that cannot be; 
 I have heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see." 
 
 "Sweet creature," said the spider, "you're witty and you're 
 
 wise, 
 How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your 
 
 eyes ! 
 I have a little looking-glass, upon my parlor shelf. 
 If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself." 
 " I thank you, gentle sir," she said, " for what you are pleased 
 
 to say ; 
 And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day.'^ 
 
 The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, 
 
 For well he knew the silly fly would soon be back again. 
 
 So he wove a secret web, in a little corner sly, 
 
 And set his table ready to dine upon the fly. 
 
 Then he went out to his door again, and merrily did sing, 
 
 " Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with the pearl and silver wing : 
 
 Your robes are green and purple ; there's a crest upon your 
 
 head ; 
 Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as 
 
 lead." 
 
 Alas, alas ! how very soon this silly little fly. 
 
 Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by ; 
 
 With buzzing wings she hung aloft ; then near and nearer 
 
 drew, 
 Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple 
 
 hue;. 
 Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing! At 
 
 last; 
 Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast! 
 
 He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den, 
 Within his little parlor ; but she never came out again ! 
 And now my dear young friends, who may this story read. 
 To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed ; 
 Unto an evil counsellor, close hearty and ear, and eye, 
 And take a lesson from the tale of the Spider and the Fly-. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 8$ 
 
 The Lion. 
 
 The lion is a native of the warmest climates. He is found 
 in the greatest numbers in the desolate regions of the torrid 
 zone, and in all the interior parts of the vast continent of 
 Africa, and the hottest parts of Asia. 
 
 In those desert regions, whence mankind are driven by 
 the rigorous heat of the climate, this animal reigns sole 
 master. His disposition seems to partake of the ardor of his 
 native soil. Inflamed by the influence of a burning sun, his 
 rage is most terrible, and his courage undaunted. 
 
 From many accounts, we are assured, that, powerful and 
 terrible as this animal appears, his anger is noble, his courage 
 magnanimous, and his temper susceptible of grateful impres- 
 sions. 
 
 The lion has often been seen to despise weak and contemp- 
 tihle enemies, and even to disregard their insults, when it was 
 in his power to punish them. 
 
 Pie has been known to spare the life of an animal which 
 was thrown into his den to be devoured by him, to live in 
 habits of perfect cordiality with it, to suff"er it to partake of 
 his subsistence, and even to give it a preference when his 
 portion of food was scanty. 
 
 A tie form of the lion is strikingly bold and majestic. His 
 large and shaggy mane, which he can erect at pleasure, sur- 
 rounding his awful front; his huge eye-brows; his round and 
 fiery eye-balls, which, upon the least irritation, seem to glow 
 with peculiar lustre; together with the formidable appearance 
 of his teeth, exhibit a picture of terrific grandeur, which is 
 difficult to be expressed. 
 
 The length of the largest lion is between eight and nine 
 feet; the tail about four; and his height about four feet and 
 a half. The female is about one-fourth part less, and without 
 a mane, 
 r The roaring of the lion is loud and dreadful. When heard 
 in the night, it resembles distant thunder. His cry of anger 
 is much shriller and shorter. 
 
 The lion ;?eldom attacks any animal openly, except when 
 
 impelled by extreme hunger ; and in that case, no danger de- 
 
 i ters him. But, as most animals endeavor to avoid him, he is 
 
 I obliged to have recourse to artifice^ and take his prey by sur« 
 
 ft prise. 
 
 I 
 
80 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST RUDER. 
 
 For this purpose, he crouches in suuie thicket, where he 
 waits till his prey approaches ; and then, with a prodigious 
 spring, he leaps upon it like a cat, and generally seizes it at 
 the first bound. 
 
 His lurking places are generally near a spring, or by the 
 side of a river, where he has frequently an opportunity of 
 catching such animals as come to quench their thirst. 
 
 As a proof that the lion is capable of exercising a generous 
 and friendly disposition towards mankind, and especially to- 
 wards his keeper, we have the following account of an inci- 
 dent which happened in Paris in the year 1799. 
 
 Citizen Felix, who kept two lions, a male and a female^ in the 
 national menagerie, was taken ill, and could no longer attend 
 to feed them, but another person was obliged to do his office. 
 
 The lion appeared sad and solitary; and remained from that 
 time constantly seated at the end of the jcage, and refused to 
 receive anything from the stranger. 
 
 His presence was hateful to him; and he menaced him bj 
 bellowing. The company even of the female seemed to dis- 
 please him, and he paid little or no attention to her. The 
 uneasiness of the animal afforded a belief that he was really 
 ill, but no one durst approach him. 
 
 At length Felix recovered of his illness, and intending to 
 surprise the lion, he went softly to the cage, and showed the 
 lion only his face against the bars. As soon as the lion disCTr:- 
 ered him, he leaped against the side of the cage, patted Felix 
 with his paws, licked his hands and face, and seemed to trem- 
 ble with pleasure. 
 
 The female also ran to him, but the lion drove her back, 
 seemed angry, and fearful she should snatch any favors from 
 Felix A quarrel seemed about to take place between them, 
 but Felix entered the cage to pacify them, and caressed them 
 by turns. 
 
 Felix has frequently been seen in the midst of this formi- 
 dable couple, whose power he has fettered by kindness. If 
 he wishes that they should separate and retire to their respec- 
 tive cages, he has only to speak a word, and they obey. 
 
 If he wishes that they should lie down, and show strangers 
 their paws, armed with frightful claws, and their throats full 
 of tremendous teeth, at his command they lie on their backs, 
 hold up their paws one afttr another, and open their mouths: 
 and as a recompense, obtain the favor of licking his hand. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. $7 
 
 These two animals, at the time of this incident, were said 
 to be five years and a half old, of a strong breed, both of the 
 same lioness, and have always lived together. 
 
 %. 
 
 The Cuckoo. 
 
 Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove, 
 
 Thou messenger of Spring ! 
 Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, 
 
 And woods thy welcome sing. 
 
 What time the daisy decks the green, 
 
 Thy certain voice we hear. 
 Hast thou a star to guide thy path. 
 
 Or mark the rolling year ? 
 
 Delfghtful visitant, with thee 
 
 I hail the time of flowers. 
 And hear the sound of music sweet. 
 
 From birds among the bowers. 
 
 The school-boy wandering through the wood, 
 
 To pull the flowers so gay. 
 Starts the new voice of Spring to hear. 
 
 And imitates thy lay. 
 
 What time the pea puts on the bloom. 
 
 Thou flyest the vocal vale ; 
 An annual guest in other lands. 
 
 Another Spring to hail. 
 
 Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green, 
 
 Thy sky is ever clear; 
 Thou hast no sorrow in thy song. 
 
 No winter in thy year I 
 
 Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee ; 
 
 We'd make with joyful wing. 
 Our annual visit o'er the globe. 
 
 Companions of the Spring. 
 
88 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 The Chinese Prisoner. 
 
 A certain emperor of China, ou his accession to the throne 
 of his ancestors, commanded a general release of all those who 
 were confined in prison for debt- Among that number, was 
 an old man, who had fallen an eariy victim to adyersitj, and 
 whose days of imprisonment, reckoned by the notches he had 
 cut on the door of his gloomy cell, expressed the annual cir- 
 cuit of more than fifty suns. 
 
 With trembling hands and faltering steps, he departed from 
 his mansion of soitow; his eyes were dazzled with the splen- 
 dor of light, and the face of nature presented to his view a 
 perfect paradise. The jail in which he had been imprisoned 
 stood at some distance from Pekin, and to that 'city he directed 
 his course, impatient to enjoy the caresses of his wife, his 
 children, and his friends. 
 
 Having with difficulty found his way to the street in which 
 his decent mansion had formerly stood, his heart became more 
 and more elated at every step he advanced. With joy he 
 proceeded, looking eagerly around ; but he observed few of 
 the objects with which he had been formerly conversant. A 
 magnificent edifice was erected on the site of the house which 
 he had inhabited ; the dwellings of his neighbors had assumed 
 a new form ; and he beheld not a sinsrle face of which he had 
 the least remembrance. 
 
 An aged beggar, who, with trembling limbs, stood at the 
 gate of an ancient portico, from which he had been thrust by 
 the insolent domestic who guarded it, struck his attention. 
 He stopped, therefore, to give him a small pittance out of the 
 amount of the bounty with which he had been supplied by 
 the emperor, and received, in return, the sad tidings that his 
 wife had fallen a lingering sacrifice to penury and sorrow ; 
 that his children were gone to seek their fortunes in distant 
 or unknown climes j and that the grave contained his nearest 
 and most valued friends. 
 
 Overwhelmed with anguish, he hastened to the palace of 
 his sovereign, into whose presence his hoary locks and mournful 
 visage soon obtained him admission 3 and, casting himself at 
 the feet of the emperor, '^ Great Prince,'' he cried, ^^ send me 
 back to that prison from which mistaken mercy has delivered 
 me ! I have survived my family and friends, and even in the 
 midst of this populous city, I find myself in a dreary solitude. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. gg 
 
 The cell of my dungeon protected me from the gazers at my 
 wretchedness, and whilst secluded from society, I was the less 
 sensible of the loss of its enjoyments. I am now tortured 
 with the view of pleasure in which T cannot participate ; and 
 die with thirst, though streams of delight surround me." 
 
 Siffns of Rain. 
 
 The hollow wind begins to blow; ^ 
 The clouds look black ; the glass is low ; 
 The soot falls down ; the spaniels sleep ; 
 And spiders from their cobwebs peep. 
 
 Hark ! how the chairs and tables crack ! 
 Old Betty's joints are on the rack ; 
 Loud quack the dticks; the peacocks cry; 
 The distant hills are seeming nigh. 
 
 How restless are the snorting swine ! 
 The busy flies disturb the kine ; 
 Low o'er the grass the swallow wings ; 
 The cricket, too, how sharp he sings ! 
 
 Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws, 
 Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws. 
 'Twill surely rain : T see, with sorrow, 
 Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow. 
 
 Heroism of a Peasant. 
 
 A great inundation having taken place in the north of Italy, 
 caused by an excessive fall of gnqw on the Alps, followed by 
 a speedy thaw, the river Adige carried off a bridge near 
 Verona, except the middle part of it, on which was the house 
 of the toll-gatherer or porter, who, with his family, thus re- 
 mained imprisoned by the waves, and in momentary danger 
 of destruction. 
 
 They were discovered from the banks, stretching forth their 
 hands, screaming and imploring succor, while fragments of 
 the remaining arch continually dropped into the water. 
 
90 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 In this danger, a nobleman, who was present, held ont a 
 purse of one hundred sequins, as a reward to any adventurer, 
 who would take a boat and deliver this unhappy family. 
 
 But the risk of being borne down by the rapidity of the 
 stream, of being dashed against the fragments of the bridge, 
 or of being crushed by the falling stones, was so great, that 
 not one of the vast numbers of spectators had courage enough 
 to attempt such an enterprise. 
 
 A peasant, who was passing along at this juncture, being 
 informed of the proposed reward, immediately jumped into a 
 boat, and by strength of oars gained the middle of the river, 
 and brought his boat under the pile, where the whole family 
 descended into it by means of a rope. 
 
 "Courage !" exclaimed he, "now you are safe." By a still 
 more strenuous effort, and great strength of arm, through Di- 
 vine Providence, he brought the boat and family safe to shore. 
 
 " Brave fellow," exclaimed the nobleman, handing the purse 
 to him, " here is the promised recompense." 
 
 " I shall never expose my life for money,^' replied the 
 peasant. " My labor is sufiicient to procure a livelihood for 
 myself, my wife and children; give the purse to this poor 
 family, who have lost all." 
 
 The Meeting of the Waters. 
 
 There is not in the wide world, a valley so sweet, 
 As that vale in whose bosom ih.Q bright waters meet. 
 O, the last rays of feehng and life must depart, 
 Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. 
 
 Yet it was not that nature had ^hed o'er the scene, 
 Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 
 'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill ; 
 O, no ! — it was something more exquisite still. 
 
 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, 
 Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dtar ; 
 And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, 
 When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 
 
THE CONFEDBRATK FIRST READER. 9;^ 
 
 Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest' 
 Iq thy bosom of shade, with the friends 1 love best ! 
 Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, 
 And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace. 
 
 The Resurrection and Ascension of Christ. 
 
 Now upon the first day of the week, very early in the 
 morning, they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices 
 which they had prepared, and certain others with them. 
 
 And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre; 
 
 And they entered in,*and found not the body of the Lord 
 Jesus. 
 
 And it came to pass, as they were much perplexed there- 
 about, behold, two men stood by them in shining garments : 
 
 And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the 
 earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among 
 the dead ? 
 
 He is not here, but is risen : remember how he spake unto 
 you when he was yet in Galilee, 
 
 Saying, the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands 
 of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again. 
 
 And they remembered his words. 
 
 And returned from the sepulchre, and told all these things 
 unto the eleven, and to all the rest. 
 
 It was Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother 
 of James, and other women that were with them, who told 
 these things unto the apostles. 
 
 And their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they 
 believed them not. 
 
 Then arose Peter, and ran unto the sepulchre ; and stooping 
 down, he beheld the linen clothes laid by themselves, and de- 
 parted, wondering in himself at that which was come to pass. 
 
 And, behold, two of them went that same day to a village 
 called Emmaus, which was from Jerusalem .about threescore 
 furlongs. 
 
 And they talked together of all these things which had 
 happened. 
 
 And it came to past, that, while they communed together 
 and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. 
 
92 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 But their eyes were holden tliat they should not know him. 
 
 And they drew nigh unto the village whither they went : 
 and he made as though he would have gone further. 
 
 But they constrained him, saying, Abide with us : for it is 
 toward evening, and the day is far spent. And he went in to 
 tarry with them. 
 
 And it came to pass, as he sat at meat with them, he took 
 bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. 
 
 And their eyes were opened, and they knew him ; and he 
 vanished out of their sight. 
 
 And they said one to another, Did not our heart burn 
 within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he 
 opened to us the Scriptures? 
 
 And they rose the same hour, and returned to Jerusalem, 
 and found the eleven gathered together, and them that were 
 with them, 
 
 Saying, The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to 
 Simon. 
 
 And they told what things were done on the way, and how 
 he was known of them in breaking of bread. 
 
 And as they thus spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst 
 of them, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. 
 
 But they were terri£ed and affrighted, and supposed they 
 had seen a spirit. 
 
 And he said unto them, Why are ye troubled ? and why do 
 thoughts arise in your hearts ? 
 
 Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself : handle 
 me and see ; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see 
 me have. 
 
 And when he had thus spoken, he showed them his hands 
 and his feet. 
 
 And while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he 
 ■aid unto them, Have ye here any meat ? 
 
 And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of a 
 honeycomb. 
 
 And he took it, and did eat before them, 
 
 And he led them out as far as Bethany; and he lifted up 
 his hands and blessed them. 
 
 And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted 
 from them, and carried up into heaven. 
 
 And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven, as he 
 went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel, 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 93 
 
 Who also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up 
 into heaven ? This same Jesus who is taken up from you 
 into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him 
 go into heaven. • 
 
 JSfot Ashamed oj Jesses. 
 
 Jesus ! and shall it ever be, 
 A mortal man ashamed of thee ? 
 Ashamed of thee, whom angels praise, 
 Whose glories shine through endless days ? 
 
 Ashamed of Jesus ! sooner far 
 Let evening blush to own her star : ^ 
 
 He sheds the beams of Light Divine, 
 O'er this benighted soul of mine. 
 
 Ashamed of Jesus I just as soon, 
 Let midnight be ashamed of noon ; 
 Tis midnight with my soul till he. 
 Bright Morning Star, bid darkness flee ! 
 
 Ashamed of Jesus ! that dear Friend, 
 On whom my hopes of heaven depend ? 
 No : when I blush, be this my shame, 
 That I no more revere his name. 
 
 Ashamed of J«sus ! yes I may. 
 When I've no guilt to wash away; 
 No tears to wipe, no good to crave, 
 No feara to quell, no soul to save. 
 
 Till then, — nor is my boasting vain, 
 Till then V\\ boast a Saviour slain. 
 And Oh ! may this my glory be, 
 My Saviour not ashamed of me ! 
 
 Ninetieth Psalm. 
 
 Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all genera- 
 tions. 
 
94 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 Before the mountains were brouglit forth, or ever thou 
 hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting 
 to everlasting, thou art God. 
 
 Thou turnest man, to destruction; and sayest Return ye 
 children of men. 
 
 For a thousand years in thy sight, are but as yesterday when 
 it is past, and as a watch in the night. 
 
 Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep : 
 in the morning they are like grass which groweth up. 
 
 In the morning it ilourishetli, and groFeth up ; in the even- 
 ing it is cut down, and withereth. 
 
 For we are consumed by thine angerj and by thy wrath are 
 we troubled. 
 
 Thou hast set our iniquities* before thee, our secret sins in 
 the light of yiy countenance. ' - » 
 
 For all our days are passed away in thy wrath ; we spend 
 our years as a tale that is told. 
 
 The days of our years are threescore years and ten ; and if 
 by reason of strength they be fourscore years, j^et is their 
 strength labor and sorrow : for it is soon cut off, and we fly 
 away. 
 
 Who knoweth the power of thine anger ? even according to 
 thy fear, so is thy wrath. 
 
 So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our 
 hearts unto wisdom. 
 
 Keturn Lord, how long ? and let it repent thee concern- 
 ing thy servants. 
 
 satisfy us .early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and 
 be glad all our days. 
 
 Make us glad according to the days wherein thou hast 
 afilic.ted us, and the years wherein we have seen evil. 
 
 Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto 
 their children. * 
 
 And let the beauty of the Lord our Grod be upon us : and 
 establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work 
 of our hands establish thou it. 
 
 Destruction of Sennacherib. 
 
 The Assyrian came down, like the wolf on the fold, 
 And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 95 
 
 And the sheen'of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
 When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 
 
 Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, 
 That host, with their banners, at sunset was seen : 
 Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, 
 That host, on the morrow, la}^ withered and atrown. 
 
 For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, 
 And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
 And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill. 
 And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still. 
 
 And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide, 
 But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride : 
 And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf. 
 And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 
 
 And there lay the rider, distorted and pale. 
 With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; 
 And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
 The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 
 
 And the widows of Ashur, are loud in their wail, 
 And the idols ^are broke in the temple of Biial ; 
 And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 
 Hath melted like snow, in the fi^lanee of the Lord ! 
 
 Abraham^s Pica in hehalf of Sodom. 
 
 And the men rose up from thence, and looked toward So- 
 dom : And Abraham went with them to bring them on the 
 way. 
 
 And the Lord said, Because the cry of Sodom and Gomor- 
 rah is great, and because their sin is very grievous ; 
 
 I will go down now, and see whether they have done alto- 
 gether according to the cry of it, which is come unto me; 
 and if not, I will know. 
 
 And the men turned their faces from thence, and went to- 
 ward Sodom : but Abraham stood yet before the Lord. 
 
 And Abrtham drew near, and said, Wilt thou also destroy 
 the righteous with the wicked ? 
 
96 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 Peradventure there be fifty righteous within the city : wilt 
 thou also destroy and not spare the place for the fifty right- 
 eous that are therein ? 
 
 That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the 
 righteous with the wicked ; and that the righteous should be 
 as the wicked, that be far from thee. Shall not the judge of 
 all the earth do right ? 
 
 And the Lord said, If I find in So'dom fifty righteous 
 within the city, then I will spare all the place for their sakes. 
 
 And Abraham answered and said, Behold now, I h^ve ta- 
 ken upon me to speak unto the Lord, who am but dust and 
 ashes : 
 
 Peradventure there shall lack five of the fifty righteous : 
 wilt thou destroy all the city for lack of five ? And he said, 
 If I find there forty and five, I will not destroy it. 
 
 And he spake yet again, and said, Peradventure there 
 shall be forty found there. And he said, I will not do it for 
 forty's sake. 
 
 And he said unto him, let not the Lord be angry, and 
 I will speak : Peradventure there shall thirty be. found there. 
 And he said, I will not do it if I find thirty there. 
 
 And he said, Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak 
 unto the Lord : Peradventure there shall be twenty found 
 there. And he said, I will not destroy it for twenty's sake. 
 
 And he said, O let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak 
 yet but this once. Peradventure ten shall be found there. 
 And he said, I will not destroy it for ten's sake. 
 
 And the Lord went his way, as soon as he had left commu- 
 ning with Abraham : And Abraham returned unto his place. 
 
 Turn the Carpet. 
 
 As at their work two weavers sat. 
 Beguiling time with friendly chat. 
 They touched upon the price of meat, 
 So high a weaver scarce could eat. 
 ^' What with my brats and sickly wife,^* 
 Quoth Dick, "I'm almost tired of life; 
 So hard my work, so poor my fare, 
 'Tis more than mortal man can bear. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIBST READER. %J 
 
 " How glorious is the rich man's state ! 
 His house so fine ! his wealth so great ! 
 Heaven is unjust, you must agree. 
 Why all to him ? why none to me ? 
 In spite of what the Scripture teaches, 
 In spite of all the parson preaches. 
 This world (indeed, I've thouglit ao long) 
 Is ruled, mcthinks, extremely wrong. 
 Where'er I look, howe'er I range, 
 'Tis all confuted, and hard, and strange; 
 The good are troubled and oppressed, 
 And all the wicked are the blessed." 
 
 Quoth John, ♦' Our ignorance is the cause 
 Why thus we blame our Maker's laws. 
 Parts of his ways alone we know ; 
 'Tis all that man can see below. 
 Seest thou that carpet, not half done, 
 Which thou, dear Dick, hast well begun ? 
 Behold the wild confusion there ! 
 So rude the mass, it makes one stare. 
 A stranger, ignorant of the trade, 
 Would say, no meaning's there conveyed ; 
 FoL' where's the middle ? where's the border ? 
 Thy carpet now is all disorder." 
 
 Said Dick, ^' My work is yet in bits, 
 
 But still in every part it fits ; 
 
 Beside, you reason like a lout ; 
 
 Why, man, that carpet's inside out \" 
 
 Says John, ^' Thou say'st the thing I mean ; 
 
 And now I hope to cure thy spleen. 
 
 This world, which clouds thy soul with doubt, 
 
 Is but a carpet inside out. 
 
 "As when we view these shreds and ends, 
 We know not what the whole intends, 
 So, when on earth things look but odd, 
 They're working still some scheme of God. 
 No plan, no pattern can we trace ; 
 All wants proportion, truth, and grace; 
 The motley mixture we deride, 
 Nor see the beauteous upper side. 
 
9S THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 " But when we reach that world of light, 
 
 And view those works of Grod aright, 
 
 Then shall we see the whole design, 
 
 And own the Workman is Divine. 
 
 What now seem random strokes, will there 
 
 All order and design appear ; 
 
 Then shall we praise what here we spurned ; 
 
 For then the carpet shall he turned /'" 
 
 " Thou'rt right/' quoth Dick, " no more I'll gruriible 
 
 That this sad world's so strange a jumble; 
 
 My impious doubts are put to flight, 
 
 For my own carpet sets me right." 
 
 rTudah's Siipj^lication to Joseph /or the Liberation of 
 
 Benjamin. 
 
 Then Judah came near unto Joseph, and said, Oh, my 
 lord, let thy servant, I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's 
 ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy servant : for 
 thou art even as Pharaoh. 
 
 My lord asked his servants, saying. Have ye a father, or a 
 brother ? 
 
 And we said unto my lord. We have a father, an old man, 
 and a child of his old age, a little one : and his brother is 
 dead; and he alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth 
 him. 
 
 And thou saidst unto thy servants, Bring him down unto 
 me, that I may set mine eyes upon him. 
 
 And we said unto my lord. The lad cannot leave his 
 father : for if he should leave his father, his father would 
 die. 
 
 And thou saidst unto thy servants. Except your youngest 
 brother come down with you, ye shall see my face no more. 
 
 And it came to pass, when we came up unto thy servant my 
 father, we told him the words of my lord. 
 
 And our father said, Go again, buy us a little food. 
 
 And we said, We cannot go down : if our youngest brother 
 be with us, then will we go down : for we may not see the 
 man's face except our youngest brother be with us. 
 
 And thy servant my father said unto us, Ye know that my 
 wife bare me two sons. 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 99. 
 
 And the one went out from me, and I said, Surely he is 
 torn in pieces ; and I saw him jiot since : 
 
 And if ye take this also from me, and mischief befall him, 
 ye shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. 
 
 Now, therefore, when i come to thy servant my father, and 
 the lad be not with us; seeing that his life is bound up in the 
 lad's life ; 
 
 It shall come to pass, when he seeth that the lad is not with 
 us, that he will die : and thy servants shall bring down the 
 gray hairs of thy servant our father, with sorrow to the grave. 
 
 For thy servant became surety for the lad unto my father, 
 saying, If I bring him not unto thee, theu I shall bear the 
 blame unto my father forever. 
 
 Now, therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead 
 of the lad, a bondman to my lord ; and Jet the lad go up with 
 his brethren. 
 
 For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with 
 us? lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come on my 
 father. 
 
 r^oseph Makes HwXseJf KnoiQn to his Brethren, 
 
 Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that 
 stood by him ; and he cried. Cause every man to go out from 
 me. And there stood no man with him, while Joseph made 
 himself known unto his brethren. 
 
 And he wept aloud : and the Egyptians and the house of 
 Pharoah heard. 
 
 And Joseph said unto his brethren, I am Joseph : doth my 
 father yet live? And his brethren could not answer himj for 
 they were troubled at his presence. 
 
 And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come near to me, I 
 pray you : and they came near. And he said, I am Joseph 
 your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. 
 
 Now, therefore, be not grieved nor angry with yourselves, 
 that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to 
 preserve life. 
 
 For these two years hath the famine been in the land ; and 
 yet there are five years in the which there shall be neither 
 earing nor harvest. 
 
 And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in 
 the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance. 
 
100 THE CONFEDERATE f'iRST READfilt. 
 
 So now, it was not you that sent me hither, but God : and 
 he hath made me a father to Pharoah, and lord of all Ms 
 house; and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt, 
 
 Haste you^ and go up to my father^ and say unto him^ Thus 
 saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt : 
 come down unto me, tarry not. 
 
 And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt 
 be near unto me, thou and thy children, and thy children's 
 children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou 
 hast : 
 
 And there will I nourish thee, (for yet there are five years 
 of famine,) lest thou, and th}^ household, and all that thou 
 hast, come to poverty. 
 
 Aud behold your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Ben- 
 jamin, that it is my m(juth that speaketh unto you. 
 
 And you shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and 
 of all that you have seen ; and ye shall haste, and bring down 
 my father hither. 
 
 And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck and wept; 
 and Benjamin wept upon his neck. 
 
 Moreover, he kissed all.his brethren, and wept uponlliem; 
 and after that, his brethreli talked with him. 
 
 And the fame thereof was heard in Pharoah's house, saying, 
 Joseph's brethren are come : and it pleased Pharoah well, and 
 his servants. 
 
 And Pharoah said unto Joseph, Say unto thy brethren, 
 This do ye ; lade your beasts, and go, get you unto the land 
 of Canaan ; 
 
 And take your father, and your households, and come unto 
 me; and I will give you the good of the land of Egypt, and 
 ye shall eat the fat of the land. 
 
 Now thou art commanded, this do ye : Take your wagons 
 out of the land of Egypt for your little ones, and for your 
 wives, and bring your father, and come. 
 
 Also regard not your stuff : for the good of all the land of 
 Egypt is yours. 
 
 And the children of Israel did so : and Joseph gave them 
 wagons, according to the commandment of Pharoah, and gave 
 them provision for the way. 
 
 And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the laud of 
 Canaan unto Jacob their father, 
 
 Aud told hiiJ3j saying, Joseph is yet alivej and he is gover- 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 101 
 
 nor over all the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, 
 for he believed them not. 
 
 And they told him all the words of Joseph, which he had 
 said unto them : and when he saw the wagons which, Joseph 
 had sent to carry him, the spirit of Jacob their father 
 revived. 
 
 And Israel said, It is enough : Joseph, my son, is yet alive ; 
 I will go down and see him before I die. 
 
 The Sluggard. 
 
 'Tis the voice of the Sluggard : I heard him complain, 
 " You have waked me too soon ! I must slumber again ! 
 As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed 
 Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head. 
 
 " A little more sle* \- ind a little more slumber !" 
 
 Thus he wastes hali hi.^ days, and his hours without number ; 
 
 And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands. 
 
 Or walks ?hout sauntering, or trifling he stands. 
 
 I passed by his garden, and saw the wild brier, 
 The thorn, and the thistle grow broader and higher : 
 The" clothes that hang on him are turning to rags ; 
 And his money still wastes, till he starves or he begs. 
 
 I made him a visit, still hoping to find 
 He had taken better care for improving his mind : 
 He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking ; 
 But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking. 
 
 Said I then to my heart, " Here's a lesson for me ! 
 
 That man's but a picture of what I might be ; 
 
 But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, 
 
 Who have taught me by times to love working and reading !" 
 
 The Tutor and his Pupils; Or^ Use Your Eyes. 
 
 Well, Robert, where have you been walking this afternoon ? 
 said a tutor to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday. 
 
102 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 
 
 Rohert. — I have been to Broom-lieath, and so round by tbe 
 windmill upon Camp-mount and home through the meadows 
 by the .river side. 
 
 Tutor. — Well, that is a pleasant round. 
 
 Rohert.— \ thought it very dull, sir ] T scarcely met with a 
 single person. I would much rather have gone along the 
 turnpike road. 
 
 Tutor. — Why, if seeing men and horses is your object, you 
 would, indeed, be better entertained on the high road. But 
 did you see William ? 
 
 Rohert, — We set out together, l^ut he lagged behind in the 
 lane, so I walked on and left him. 
 
 Tutor. — That was a pity. He would r. ve been company 
 for you. 
 
 Rohert. — ! he is so tredious, alwiys stoppiug to look at 
 this thing and that; I would rather walk alone. I dare say 
 he has not got home yet. 
 
 Tutor ,—~\1qtq he comes. Well, "Wiiliam, where have you 
 been? 
 
 William.— -O, the pleasantest walk ! I went all over Broom- 
 heath, and so up to the mill at the top of the mount, and then 
 down among the green meadows by tlie -"de of the river. 
 
 Tutor.- — Why, that is just the round Robert has been taking ; 
 and he complains of its dullness, and prefers the high road. 
 
 Wlllmm. — I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a 
 step that did not delight me, and I have brought home my 
 handkerchief full of curiosities. 
 
 .7\<to?'.— -Suppose, then, you give us an account of what 
 amused you so much. I fancy it will be as new to Robert as 
 to me. 
 
 William. — I will do it readily. The lane leading to the 
 heath, 3^ou know, is close and sandy ; so I did not mind it 
 much, but made the best of my way : however, I spied a cu- 
 rious thing enough in the hedge. It was an old crab tree, out 
 of which grew a great branch of something green, quite dif- 
 ferent from the tree itself. Here is a branch of it. 
 
 Tutor.—Ah. I this is mistletoe ; a plant of great fame for 
 the use made of it by the Druids of old, in their religious 
 rites and incantations. It bears a slimy white berry, of which 
 bird-lime is made, whence its Latin name of viscus. It is one 
 of those plants which do not grow in the ground by a root 
 of their own^ but fix themselves upon other plants ; whence 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 103 
 
 they have been humorously styled "parasitical/^ as being 
 hangers-on or dependents. It was the mistletoe of the oak 
 that the Druids particularly honored. 
 
 William. — A little further on I saw a green wood-pecker 
 fly to a tree, and run up the trunk like a eat. 
 
 Tutor.-— Thnt was to seek for insects in the bark, on which 
 they live. They bore boles with their strong bills for that pur- 
 pose, and do much damage to the trees by it. 
 
 William. — When I got upon the open heath, how charming 
 it was ! The air seemed so fresh, and the prospect on every 
 side so free and unbounded ! Tken it was all covered with 
 gay flowers, many of which I had never observed before. 
 There was a flock of lapwings upon a marshy part of the 
 heath, that amused me much. As I came near them, some of 
 them kept flying round and round, just over my head, and 
 crying " pewit,'' so distinctly one might almost fancy they 
 spoke. 1 thought I should have caught one of them, for he 
 flew as if one of his wings was broken, and often tumbled 
 close to the ground ; but as I came near he always contrived 
 to get away. 
 
 Tutor. — Ha, ha ! you were finel}^ taken in, then ! This 
 was all an artifice of the bird's, to entice you away from its 
 nest; for they build upon the bare ground, and their nest 
 would easily be observed did they not draw off the attention 
 of intruders by their loud cries and counterfeited lameness. 
 
 William. — I wish I had known that, for he led me a long 
 chase, often over shoes in water. However, it was the cause 
 of my falling in with an old man and a boy, who were cutting 
 and piling up turf for fuel; and 1 had a good deal of talk 
 with them about the manner of preparing the turf, and the 
 price it sells at. 
 
 I then took my course up to the windmill, on the mount. I 
 climbed up the steps of the mill, in order to get a better view 
 of the country around. What an extensive prospect ! I 
 counted fifteen church steeples; and I saw several gentle- 
 men's houses peeping out from the midst of green woods and 
 plantations; and I could trace the windings of the river all 
 along the low grounds, till it was lost behind a ridge of hills. 
 
 From the hill I went straight down to the meadows below, 
 and walked on the side of a little brook till it entered the river, 
 and then I took the path th«t runs along the bunk. On the 
 opposite side I observed seveml little birds running along the 
 
104 THE CONFEDERATE FIEST READER. 
 
 shore, and making a piping noise. They were brown and 
 white, and about as big as a snipe. 
 
 Tutor. — I suppose they were sand-pipers=— one of the nu- 
 merous family of birds that get their Uving by wading among 
 the shallows, and picking up worms and insects. 
 
 William.' — There were a great many swallows, too, sporting 
 on the surface of the water, that entertained me with their mo- 
 tions. Sometimes they dashed into the stream; sometimes they 
 pursued one another so quickly that the eye could scarcely fol- 
 low them. In one place, where a high, steep sand-bank rose 
 directly above the river, I observed many of them go in and 
 out of holes with which the bank was bored full. 
 
 Tutor. — Those were sand-martins, the smallest of our four 
 species of swallows. They are of a mouse-color above and 
 white beneath. They make their nests and bring up their 
 young in these holes, which run a great depth, and by their 
 situation are secure from all plunderers. 
 
 William. — A little further 1 saw a man in a boat, who was 
 catching eels in an odd way. He had a long pole, with broad 
 iron prongs at the end, just like Neptune's trident, only there 
 were five instead of three. This he pushed straight down 
 among the mud in the deepest part of the river, and fetched 
 up eels sticking between the prongs. 
 
 Tutor, — I have seen this method. It is called spearing of 
 eels. 
 
 TF///?am.— While I was looking at him a heron came flying 
 over my head with his large flagging wings. Efe alighted at 
 the next turn of the river, and I crept softly behind the bank 
 to^ watch his motions. He had waded into the water as far as 
 his long legs would carry him, and was standing with his neck 
 drawn in, looking intently on the stream. Presently he 
 dashed his long bill as quick as lightning into the water, and 
 drew out a fish, which he swallowed. I saw him catch an- 
 other in the same manner. He then took alarm at some noise 
 I made, and flew away slowly to a wood at some distance, 
 where he settled. 
 
 Tutor. — Probably his nest was there ; for herons build upon 
 the loftiest trees they can find, and sometimes in society to- 
 gether, like rooks. Formerly, when these birds were valued 
 for the amusement of hawking, many gentlemen had their 
 heronries ; and a few are still remaining. 
 
 William, — I then turned homeward across the meadows, 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 105 
 
 where I stopped a while to look at a large flock of starlings, 
 which kept flying about at no great distance. I could not tell 
 at first what to make of them; for they rose all together from 
 the ground as thick as a swarm of bees, and formed themselves 
 into a kind of black cloud, hovering over the field. After tak- 
 ing a short round, they settled again, and presently rose again 
 in the same manner. I dare say there were hundreds of them. 
 
 Tutor. — Perhaps so, for in the fenny countries their flocks 
 are so numerous as to break down whole acres of reeds, by 
 settling on them. This disposition of starlings to fly in close 
 swarms, was remarked even by Homer, who compares the foe 
 flying from one of his heroes, to a cloud of starlings retiring 
 dismayed at the approach of the hawk. 
 
 Wi/h'am. — After I had left the meadows, I crossed the 
 corn-fields in the way to our house, and passed close by a deep 
 marl-pit. Looking into it, I saw in one of the sides, a cluster 
 of what I took to be shells ; and upon going down, I picked 
 up a clod of marl, which was quite full of them ; but how 
 sea-shells could get there, I cannot imagine. 
 
 Tutor. — T do not wonder at your surprise, since many phi- 
 losophers have been much perplexed to account for the same 
 appearance. It is ntt uncommon to find great quantities of 
 shells and relics of marine animals, even in the bowels of high 
 mountains very remote from the sea.. 
 
 Wil/iam. — I got to the high field next to our house ju»st as 
 the sun was setting, and I stood looking at it till it was quite 
 lost. What a glorious sight ! The clouds were tinged with 
 purple, and crimson, and yellow, of all shades and hues, and 
 the clear sky varied from blue to a fine green at the horizon. 
 But how large the sun appears just as it sets ! T think it 
 seems twice as big as when it is overhead. 
 
 Tutor. — It does so ; and you may probably have observed 
 the same apparent enlargement of the moon at its rising. 
 
 William. — I have ; but pray what is the reason of this ? 
 
 Tutor. — It is an optical deception, depending upon prin- 
 ciples which I cannot well explain to you, till you know more 
 of that branch of science. But w^hat a number of new ideas 
 this afternoon's walk has aff'orded you ! I do not wonder that 
 you found it amusing ; it has been very instructing, too. 
 Did YOU see nothing of all these sights, Robert ? 
 
 Robert. — I saw some of them, but I did not take particular 
 notice of them. 
 6 
 
IQfi THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER, 
 
 Tutor. — Why not ? 
 
 Rohert. — I do not know. I did not care about them ; and 
 I made the best of my way home. 
 
 'lutor. — ^That would have been right if you had been sent 
 on a message ; but as you walked only for amusement, it would 
 have been wiser to have sought out as many sources of it as 
 possible. But so it is, one man walks through the world with 
 his eyes open, and another with them shut ; and upon this 
 difference depends all the superiority of knowledge the one 
 acquires above the other. 
 
 I have known a sailor who had been in all quarters of the 
 world, and could tell you nothing but the signs of the tip- 
 pling houses he frequented in different ports, and the price 
 and quality of the liquor. On the other hand, a Franklin 
 could not cross the English Channel withoftt making some 
 observations useful to mankind. 
 
 While many a vacant, thoughtless youth, is whirled through- 
 out Europe, without gaining a single idea worth crossing a 
 street for, the observing eye and inquiring mind, find matter 
 for improvement and delight in every ramble in town or 
 country. Do you, then, William, continue to make use of 
 your eyes, and you, Eobert, learn that eyes were given you to 
 use. 
 
 What is That, Mother f 
 
 "Whatis that, mother r 
 
 '^ The lark, my child. 
 The morn has just looked out and smiled. 
 When he starts from his humble, grassy nest, 
 And is up and away, with the dew on his breaF^t, 
 And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere, 
 To warble it out in his Maker's ear. 
 Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays 
 Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise." 
 
 "What is that, mother?" 
 
 " The dove, my son ; 
 And that low, sweet voice, like the widow's moan, 
 Is flowing out from her gentle breast, 
 Constant and pure by that lonely nest, 
 
THE CONFEDERATB FIRST RBADaB. IQ7 
 
 As the wave is poured from some crystal urn, 
 For her distant dear one's quick return. 
 Ever, my son, be thou like the dove ; 
 In friendship as faithful, as constant in love." 
 
 << What is that, mother V 
 
 " The eagle, my boy, 
 Proudly careering his course of joy ; 
 Firm, in his own mountain vigor relying ; 
 Breasting the dark storm ; the red bolt defying : 
 His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun. 
 He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on. 
 Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine. 
 Onward, and upward, and true to the line." 
 
 '* What is that, mother V 
 
 " The swan, my love. 
 He is floating down from his native grove ; 
 No loved one now, no nestling nigh; 
 He is floating down, by himself, to die. 
 Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings ; 
 Yet his sweetest song is the last he sings. 
 Live so, my love, that, when death shall come, 
 Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home." 
 
 LlttU John and his Bowl of Milk 
 
 There was once a little boy by the name of John. He 
 demeaned himself very well, and was generally of a good 
 temper ; bmt he was too fond of his own pleasure, and would 
 sometimes be unkind or uncivil, rather than deny himself an 
 enjoyment, for the sake of doing a favor to another person. 
 
 One night when little John sat down to his supper, he 
 asked for the bowl of milk which his kind mother always gave 
 him at that meal. His mother told him he must do without 
 milk that night ; for that a poor woman who lived close by, 
 had sent to ask for some milk for her sick child, and she had 
 given it all to her. 
 
 John did not behave like a good boy when his mother told 
 him this. He pouted, aud looked surly aud angry ; and h« 
 
108 THE CONFEDERATE FIRST RBADIR. 
 
 said to his mother he did not like to have his milk given away 
 to other children ; and that he would not eat his supper at all. 
 
 The good mother was very sorry to see her little son show 
 such unconcern for the comfort of a «ick person. But she 
 told him, as he was so unwilling, she would never give his 
 milk away again. 
 
 She thought; however, of a plan by which she hoped to 
 lead her little boy to cherish better feelings. So the next 
 morning, she told him, to get his hat and take a walk with 
 her. John was always eager to go with his mother, for he 
 loved her very much. So he got his hat, and ran to open the 
 gate for her, and they were soon on their way. 
 
 The first place at which they stopped was the house where 
 the little sick child lived ; and when they walked in, John's 
 mother asked the lady how the child was. '' Oh madam,'' 
 said she, "little Charley is a great deal better this morning, 
 That milk you sent him, acted like a charm ! It is tke first 
 thing he has eaten for two days. He begged for some, and I 
 did not know where I could get any, except at your house. 
 It was very kind of you to send it to him. As soon as he 
 drank it, he fell asleep, and slept sweetly all night long ; and 
 this morning he looks so much better that I feel as if my dear 
 little boy would get well again.'' 
 
 John's mother told the lady she was very glad to hear that 
 her little boy was so much better, and said she would like to 
 send him some milk every evening ; but that she would not 
 be able to give him any more. The poor woman said she was 
 very sorry, but that she hoped Charley might now get along 
 without it. 
 
 After they left the house, John's mother did not say any 
 thing to him about the sick boy and the milk. She saw that 
 John was thinking, and she thought it was better to leave him 
 to make his own conclusions. 
 
 That night when they sat down to supper again, little John 
 found his bowl of milk by his plate, as usual. But he did not 
 seem as if he wanted to eat; and after some hesitation and 
 confusion, he went up to his mother and whispered in her ear, 
 to know if he might do what he pleased with his milk. His 
 mother gave her consent, and John put on his hat, and took 
 his bowl of milk, and went out. 
 
 After some time John came in again, his little face glowing 
 with pleasure. " '^Oh ! mother,^' he said, "1 thought I would 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 209 
 
 make my supper on nof-mUk to-night, instead of milk; and 
 indeed, mother, 7}ot-m\]k is much the best." His mother 
 knew very well what her little boy meant. He had carried 
 his bowl of milk to Charley; and when he saw how delighted 
 the poor, sick boy was, he said it gave hira a great deal more 
 pleasure to do without the milk for Charity's sake, than to 
 drink it. And so, for a little jest, he told his mother that he 
 had made his supper on not-milky and that it was a great deal 
 betttr than milk, 
 
 John's mother was highly gratified, when she saw that her 
 little son had learned the luxury of doing good, and had found 
 that it makes a person much happier to be kind than to be 
 selfish. 
 
 Casablanca. 
 
 The boy stood on the burning deck, 
 Whence all but him had fled ; 
 
 The flame that lit the battle's wreck, 
 Shone round him o'er the dead. 
 
 Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 
 
 As born to rule the storm ; 
 A creature of heroic blood, 
 
 A proud, though childlike form. 
 
 The flames rolled on — he would not go 
 
 Without his father's word; 
 That father, faint in death below. 
 
 His voice no longer heard. 
 
 He called aloud ; — '" Say, father, say 
 
 If yet my task is done ! " 
 He knew not that the chieftain lay 
 
 Unconscious of his son. 
 
 " Speak, father V once again he cried, 
 
 '' If I may yet be gone I" 
 And but the booming shot replied, 
 
 And fast the flames rolled on. 
 
 Upon his brow he felt their breath, 
 And in hii waving hair, . 
 
110 THE CONFEDERATE FIR^T REAPER. 
 
 And looked from that lone post of death, 
 In still, yet brave despair, — 
 
 And shouted but once more aloud, 
 
 " My father ! must I stay ?" 
 While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, 
 
 The wreathing fires made way. 
 
 They wrapped the ship in splendor wild ; 
 
 They caught the flag on high, 
 And streamed above the gallant child, 
 
 Like banners in the sky. 
 
 There came a burst of thunder sound :— 
 
 The boy — 0, where was he ? 
 Ask of the winds that far around 
 
 With fragments strewed the sea — 
 
 With mast, and helm, and pennon fair. 
 
 That well had borne their part ; 
 But the noblest thing which perished there. 
 
 Was that young, faithful heart ! 
 
 [The above lines relate to a boy of thirteen years of age, who 
 lost his life in the celebrated battle of the Nile. His father was 
 commander of the Orient, and was killed in the same battle.] 
 
 TJip Litth Twlpt-'A Fahle, 
 
 Once there was a gentleman who made a beautiful garden. 
 He laid it out in walks, with nice borders, and he had in it 
 beautiful grass-plats and pools of water. 
 
 He then planted in it all kinds of trees and shrubs and 
 flowers, and had vines and fruits of every description. The 
 great oak tree cast its deep shade over the lawn, while the 
 birds built their nests and sung their songs in its branches. 
 The apple-tree was white with blossoms in the spring, and in 
 the autumn it was loaded with fruit. 
 
 The vines hung thick with luscious grapes, and oranges, 
 and all kinds of delicious fruits, grew on every side. The 
 air was filled with the fragrance of the flowers. There were 
 the myrtle and the lilac, and other flowering shrubs; and 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. HI 
 
 also beautiful roses, and verbenas, and dahlias, and peonies, 
 and heart's-ease, and hyacinths, and amaranths, and the sweet 
 little violet, and many other flowers. 
 
 It was very delightful to the owner of this garden, to visit 
 it. He would stroll along its pleasant walks, or he would sit 
 in its green shades, and listen to the songs of the birds. He 
 would invite his friends to go with him ; and they would 
 pluck the luscious fruits, and admire the beautiful flowers; 
 and they all said they had never before seen so beautiful a 
 garden. 
 
 But one morning, when the gentleman went to see his gar- 
 den, he found everything changed. The leaves of the oak 
 tree were withered, and it no longer gave any shade. The 
 other trees, and the shrubs, were also casting their leaves, and 
 they seemed to be dying. The roses had dropped to pieces, 
 and all the other flowers were faded and dead. The grass 
 too had dried up, and the vines were naked; and everything 
 looked desolate and dreary. 
 
 The gentleman was greatly distressed to see what a change 
 had suddenly taken place in his beautiful garden, and he de- 
 termined to try to find out the cause. So he spo^^'?. to the 
 oak tree, and asked what was the reason that its leaves were 
 withered, and its beauty all gone. The oak replied, " I have 
 concluded to be idle, because I feel that I am of very little use 
 in the garden. I bear no fruit except a little acorn, which is 
 so bitter that even the pigs will scarcely eat it. If I was like 
 the apple-tree, I would be willing to bear fruit forever." 
 
 The gentleman then asked the apple-tree, why it too had 
 put ofl' its leaves, and seemed to be dead. The apple-tree 
 replied that it was a poor unsightly tree, and not tall and 
 spreading like the oak. It produced a few apples once a year, 
 but what of that ? It was of no use in the garden, and it 
 was better for it to be dead than alive. 
 
 The gentleman then went from tree to tree, and from flower 
 to flower, and put to them the same question, and they all 
 gave him the same answer. They were all discontented with 
 their lot. Those that bore fruit, wanted to bear flowers; and 
 those that bore flowers, wished to bear fruit. Each said that 
 it was of no advantage to the garden, and it had, therefore, 
 concluded to wither and die. 
 
 The good man was deeply afflicted, and walked about with 
 his eyes upon the ground, grieving that his lovely garden 
 
112 THE CONPBDlHAJl FIRST RBADBR. 
 
 should so suddenly have become a waste. At last, in one 
 corner of the garden, he saw a little violet growing where 
 he had planted it, and looking bright and beautiful. It was 
 the only flower that was blooming in the whole garden; but it 
 held its little head as high, and its colors were as beautiful, 
 and its odor as fragrant, as ever. 
 
 '^ How is it, my sweet little flower,'^ said the gentleman, 
 ^' that 3'^ou are bright and happy, while every thing else in 
 the garden is discontented and withered? I planted the 
 others in the best places. I put them in ray nicest borderg, 
 and along my principal walks ; but I placed j'^ou in this distant 
 corner, where few would ever see you. Yet they have de- 
 serted me, while you are as joyous and beautiful as ever." 
 
 The violet replied, "I know, sir, that you would not have 
 put me in this corner, if you had not wanted me here; and I 
 am well contented to stay where you think it best to place me. 
 I know I am but a little violet, and cannot do much ; but I 
 wish to do what little I can, to make your garden beautiful 
 and pleasant to you. So I determined to be the' best little 
 yiolet that I could, and to show myself as bright and as 
 fragras'^-as possible " 
 
 The gentleman was delighted at the good conduct and sweet 
 temper of the faithful little violet; and so he went back to 
 the oak-tree, and told it how this little flower., planted away 
 off in a lonesome corner, had behaved, and what it had said. 
 The oak became very much ashamed, as indeed it ought to 
 have been, for it was in the most conspicuous place in the 
 garden; and so it promised the gentleman it would immedi- 
 ately leave off its idle and discontented ways. 
 
 The other trees, and all the shrubs and flowers, felt greatly 
 ashamed also, when they heard how the little violet had be- 
 haved ; and they, too, determined to follow its example. So 
 the trees put forth fresh leaves, and the flowering plants put 
 on new bloom, and the grass grew green again ; and in a lit- 
 tle time the garden was as pleasant and beautiful as ever. 
 And all this was owing to the good example of the little vio- 
 let. 
 
 We must learn from this fable to be contented with our 
 lot, and to do the best we can in it. Let every little child 
 determine to be the best boy or girl that is possible. Per- 
 sons, too, who are in humble position, should not murmur or 
 rtpine, but remember that God put them there because he 
 
THB OONFBDBRATH FIRST READER. II3 
 
 wanted them there. By imitating the example of the little 
 violet, we shall be happy ourselves, and set a good example. 
 
 All Nature Attests the Creator. 
 
 Hast thou beheld the glorious sun, 
 Through all the sky his circuit run ; 
 At rising morn, at closing day, 
 And when he beamed his noontide ray ? 
 
 Say, didst thou e'er attentive view. 
 The evening cloud, or morning dew ? 
 Or, aft( V rain, the wat'ry bow. 
 Rise in ' c e.ist a beauteous show? 
 
 When darkness had o'erspread the skies, 
 Hast thou e'er seen the moon arise ; 
 And, with a mild and placid light. 
 Shed lustre o'er the face of night '? 
 
 Hast thou e'er wandered o'er the plain. 
 And view'd the fields, and waving grain ; 
 The flow'ry mead, the leafy grove, • 
 Where all is melody and love ? 
 
 Hast thou e'er trod the sandy shore, 
 And heard the restless ocean roar, 
 When roused by some tremendous storm, 
 Its billows roll in dreadful form ? 
 
 Hast thou beheld the lightning stream. 
 Through night's dark gloom, with sudden gleam; 
 While the bellowing thunder's sound, 
 Roll'd rattling through the" heavens profound ? 
 
 Hast thou e'er felt the cutting gale. 
 The sleety shower, the biting hail ; 
 Beheld bright snow o'erspread the plains, 
 The water bound in icy chains ? 
 
 Hast thou the various beings seen, 
 That eport along the Talley green ; 
 
THS CONFIDERATI FIRST RKADBE. 
 
 That sweetly warble on the spray, 
 Or wanton in the sunny ray j 
 
 That shoot along the briny deep, 
 Or under ground their dwellings keep ; 
 That through the gloomy forest range. 
 Or frightful wilds, and deserts strange ? 
 
 Hast thou the wond'rous scenes surveyM, 
 That all around thee are display'd ; 
 And hast thou never rais'd thine eyes 
 To Him who caus'd these scenes to rise ? 
 
 'Twas God who formed the concave sky, 
 And all the shining orbs on high ; 
 Who gave the various beiujii birth, 
 That people all the spacious earth. 
 
 ^Tis He that bids the tempest rise. 
 And rolls the thunder through the skies. 
 His voice the elements obey : 
 Through all the earth extends Hi:^ sway. 
 
 His goodness all His creatures share ; 
 But Man is His peculiar care : 
 Then while they all proclaim His praifse, 
 Let Matt His voice the loudest raise. 
 
 A Friend in Need. 
 
 George Cornish, a native of London, went to the East In- 
 dies, where he made a fortune. After many years, he return- 
 ed to London, and immediately w«nt to the house of his only 
 brother. He was there informed that his brother was dead, 
 but that one of his daughters was married, and living near 
 
 Mr. Cornish went to see his niece, and was affectionately 
 received. He found there another of his nieces, who was 
 also very glad to welcome home her rich, bachelor uncle. But 
 his brother had three daughters when Mr. Cornish went away 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 115 
 
 . to India ; and he now asked the two sisters what had become 
 of little Amelia, the third sister. 
 
 "Indeed, sir/' said the eldest sister, "we do not know 
 what hf s become of Amelia. We never talk about her, and 
 we try to ibrget her. She has disgraced herself by marrying 
 a man beneath her, a drawing-master employed in the fami- 
 ly; and it has ended in poverty and wretchedness. Our fa- 
 ther rather encouraged the match at first ; but he afterwards 
 became hostile. He would do nothing for her, and he made 
 us promise, no longer to look upon her as a sister." 
 
 " And did you make such a promise ?" asked Mr. Oorniih, 
 in a tone of surprise and displeasure. " Poor sufferer," con- 
 tinued he; "7 have made no promise to renounce thee!'' So 
 saying, he took up his hat, left the house, and started out 
 imme<Hately to search for the missing sister. 
 
 He had a long search before he found her. Mr. Bland, 
 her husband, was poor, and had of late been unfortunate ; so 
 that he had been compelled to change his quarters very often. 
 At last Mr. Cornish found where Amelia lived. It was in 
 the third story of a house in a narrow alley. As Mr. Cornish 
 went up the steps, he met two officers coming down; one with 
 a bed upon his shoulders, and the other with a bundle of bed- 
 clothes. A woman with a child in her arms, was following 
 them, and he heard her exclaim, " Oh, it is cruel not to leave 
 me one bed, for myself and my poor children !" 
 
 Mr. Cornish advanced to the woman, and looked earnestly 
 at her. At last he said, " Is this Amelia Cornish ?" " That 
 was my name," she said. " 1 am your uncle Greorge," he 
 replied ; and ho sobbed as if his heart would break. The 
 poor woman fainted, and it was some time before she recover- 
 ed herself. " Oh, uncle," she exclaimed, " what a situation 
 you see me in !" He replied, "It is a situation, indeed, poor 
 forsaken creature ! But you have one friend left I" 
 
 Mr. Bland had become so poor, that he had been unable to 
 pay his last rent; and the officers had come to seize property, 
 in order to get the money. Mr. Cornish immediately paid 
 the debt, and made them bring back the bed and clothing. 
 Mr. Bland, himself, had fallen sick of a fever, and was then 
 in a hospital. 
 
 Mrs. Bland told her uncle that her husband had always 
 been very kind to her. He was industrious, and did his best 
 to take care of hii family; but he could not alwmys get em- 
 
116 THl OONFIDERATS FIRST READER. 
 
 ployment. It made her feel heart-broken when her father* 
 and her sisters abandoned her ; and when her husband was 
 taken sick, and her present troubles came upon her, she felt 
 as if Heaven had abandoned her too. " But in this hour of 
 our extremest distress, you have been sent for our comfort," 
 she said. ^' Thank God!" said Mr. Cornish; ^^and your com- 
 fort I will be. Dry up your tears — better days are coming !" 
 
 As it was too late to move his niece that day, Mr. Cornish 
 sent them up an abundant supply of nice food, to last them 
 till the next. He then went to the hospital to see ♦Mr. Bland, • 
 and told him to cheer up, and that his family should be taken • 
 care of. The next day he rented a nice house, handsomely 
 furnished. He then took his niece, with her three children, 
 to a clothing establishment, and made her get a supply of 
 clothing for the whole family, including her husband. He 
 then conducted her to the house he had rented, and told her 
 she was at home. '^ All I ask," said he, ^^is that you will let 
 me come to see you now and then." 
 
 The poor lady could only express her thanks by a flood of 
 tears. She threw herself at her uncle's feet, but he raised 
 her up, and putting in her hands a purse of gold, left the 
 house. He hastened to the hospital, where he found Mr. 
 Bland almost well. The doctor said that Mr. Cornish's visit 
 the night before, had cured him. That very day, they carried 
 him home in a sedan chair, and under his wife's nursing he 
 was soon entirely restored. 
 
 Mr. Cornish remained a steady friend to the family of his 
 niece. He obtained a good situation for Mr. Bland, and 
 never wearied of his kindness to Mrs. Bland and the chil- 
 dren. He went to see his other nieces sometimes, but he 
 never could think so well of them again, after he found how 
 they had treated their younger lister. 
 
 The Blind Boy and His Sister. 
 
 " Dear Mary," said the poor blind boy, 
 
 " That little bird sings very long. 
 Say, do you see him in his joy? 
 ■ And is he pretty as kis »ong? 
 
THE CONFBDERATE FIRST READER. 117 
 
 *^ Yes, Edward, yes/' replied the maid, 
 
 ^•^I see the bird on yonder tree." 
 The poor boy sighed, and gently said, 
 
 ^' Sister, I wish that / could see !" 
 
 ^' The flowers, you say, are very fair ; 
 
 And bright green leaves are on the trees ; 
 And pretty birds are singing there ; 
 
 How beautiful for ouc who sees ! 
 
 "Yet I the fragrant flowers can sjjicll ; 
 
 And I can feel the green leaf's shade; 
 And I can hear the notes that swell. 
 
 From those dear birds that God has made. 
 
 " So, sister, God to me is kind. 
 
 Though sight, alas ! he has not given. 
 
 But tell me, are there any blind 
 Among the children up in heaven ?" 
 
 '^ No, dearest Edward, there all see ; 
 
 But why ask me a thing so odd ?" 
 " Oh ! Mary, he's so good to me, 
 
 1 thought I'd like to look at God." 
 
 '^re long disease its hand had laid 
 
 On that dear boy, so meek and mild. 
 His widowed mother wept and prayed. 
 That God would spare her sightless child. 
 
 He felt her tears fall on his face, 
 
 And said, " Oh, never weep for me ; 
 
 I'm going to a bright, bright place, 
 Where Mary says I God shall see. 
 
 "'ii? '^And you'll be there, dear Mary, too; 
 
 But, mother, when you come up there, 
 Tell Edward, mother, that 'tis you; 
 You know I never saw you here." 
 
 He spoke no more, but sweetly smiled. 
 
 Until the final blow was given ; 
 When God took up the poor, blind child. 
 
 And opened first his eyes in Heaven. 
 
 7 
 
"llg THE CONFEDEBATl FIRST READEE, 
 
 Ohristian and Hopeful conducted into Heaven by the Angels. 
 
 Now, upon the Ibank of the river, on the other side, Chrif^- 
 tian and Hopeful saw two shining men who there waited for 
 them ; wherefore, heing come up out of the river, they sahited 
 them, saying, " We are ministering spirits, sent forth to min- 
 ister for those that shall he heirs of salvation." Thus they 
 went along towards the gate. 
 
 While they were thus drawing towards the gate, hehold a 
 company of the heavenly host came out to meet them ; to 
 whom it was said by the other two shining ones, ^' These are 
 the men that loved our Lord when they were in the world, 
 and that left all for His holy name ; and He hath sent us to 
 fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their de- 
 sired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer 
 in the face with joy.^' Then the heavenly host gave a great 
 shout, saying, ^^ Blessed are they that are called to the mar- 
 riage supper of the Lamb." 
 
 There came out also at this time, to meet them, several of 
 the king's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, 
 who, with loud and melodious noises, made even the heavens 
 to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian 
 and his fellow, with ten thousand welcomes, from the world ; 
 and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet. 
 
 This done, they compassed them round on every side. Some 
 went before, some behind, some on the right hand, and some 
 on the left, as if to guard them through the upper regions, 
 continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in 
 notes on high ; so that the very sight was, to them that could 
 behold it, as if heaven itself were come down to meet them. 
 
 Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and as they 
 walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful 
 sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, 
 still signify to Ohristian and his brother, how welcome they 
 were into their company, and with what gladness they came 
 to meet them. And now were these two men, as it were, in 
 heaven before they came at it, being swallowed up with the 
 sight of angels, and with hearing their melodious notes. 
 
 Here also they had the city itself in view; and they thought 
 they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them 
 thereto ; but, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that 
 they had about their own dwelling there, with such company, 
 
THE CONFEDERATE FIRST READER. 119 
 
 and that for ever and ever. Oh ! by what tongue or pen can 
 their glorious joy be expressed ! And thus they came up to 
 the gate. 
 
 Now, when they wore come up to the gate, there was writ- 
 ten over it^ in letters of gold, ^^ Blessed are they that do His 
 commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, 
 and may enter in through the gates, into the city." 
 
 Then T saw in my dream,- that the shining men bid them 
 call at the gate, which, when they did, some from above looked 
 over the gate : to wit, Enoch, Moses and Elijah, and others, 
 to whom it was said, *' These pilgrims are come from the city 
 of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this 
 place." 
 
 And then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his 
 certificate, which they had received in the beginning. Those, 
 therefore, were carried in to the King, who, when he had 
 read them, said, ^' Where are the men?" To whom it was 
 answered, "They are standing without at the gate." The 
 King then commanded to open the gate, "that the righteous 
 nation that keepeth truth, may enter in." 
 
 Now, I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at 
 the gate ; and, lo ! as they entered, they were transfigured ; 
 and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There 
 were ariso those who met them with harps and crowns, and 
 gave them to them; the harps to praise withal, and the crowns 
 in token of honor. 
 
 Then I heard in my dream, that all the bells in the city 
 rang for joy; and that it was said unto them, "Enter ye into 
 the joy of your Lord." I also heard the men themselves sing, 
 with a loud voice, " Blessing, honor, glory, and power, be to 
 Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ev«r 
 and ever." 
 
 Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I 
 looked in after them ; and, behold, the city shone like the 
 sun. Its streets also were paved with gold, and in them 
 walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their 
 hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal. There were 
 also some that had wings; and they answered one another 
 without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord." 
 And after that, they shut up the gates, which, when I had 
 seen, I wished myself among them. 
 
120 THE CONFEI^lRATl FIRST READER. 
 
 The Dging Christian to his Soul. 
 
 Vital spark of heavenly flame ! 
 Quit, 0, quit, this mortal frame ! 
 Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
 0, the pain, the bliss, of dying ! 
 Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife^ 
 And let me languish into life 1 
 
 Hark ! they whisper; angels say, 
 Sister Spirit, come away ! 
 What is this absorbs me quite — 
 Steals my senses, shuts my sight. 
 Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ?— 
 Tell me, my soul, can this j^e Deatli ? 
 
 The world recedes, — it disappears ! 
 Heaven opens on my e3^es ! my ears 
 
 With sounds seraphic ring ! 
 Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! 
 O Grave ! where is tliy victory ? 
 
 Death ! where is thy sting ? 
 
^T p^^^^,,,j^^^|jgg^jj|gjjgj,jjjjaiaay,jg|,,^,iyi|,aij^^ 
 
 T^TTBLin A TIOIN^S 
 
 c^o;.0E h. i-iisoob; 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE SPELLER. Fourth edition. 
 The bcjt Sr.l]-r i- tant. 
 
 ... . JONFFDERa TK FRBaER. Fourth oditi 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE RHYMING PRIMER. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED PRIMER. BeautifuHj cokrcd. 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE READER. Part L 
 
 SMITH'S ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 
 
 IN V • .\ Iv 1. A x. X , 
 
 THE ARMY SONGSTER. 
 
 Dedicuied lo ihe Army of Northern Virginia. 
 
 The best collection of Songs published in the South. 
 
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 PUBLISHER AND BOOKSELLER, 
 
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