LIBERTY.--Come, Young America!
(_Young America advances slowly towards the outstretched arms of Liberty and kneels. The Spirits follow forming a group which says, "Onward into the Land-of-Equal-Chance"._)
--"_National School Service._"
QUESTIONS
Each of Young America's companions gave him a present. What were the presents? Was each a suitable gift to come from its giver? Of what use will each gift be?
Do you think Young America would be likely to succeed with only three of these companions? If so, which one do you think he can spare?
[Illustration: "COME, YOUNG AMERICA!"]
THE BROKEN FLOWER-POT
Is this a real, live boy who tells this story? He did two things, a bad one and a good one. You probably would not have done the bad one. Try to think out for yourself, not to answer the question to your teacher or class, whether or not you would have done the good one.
I
My father was seated on the lawn before the house, his straw hat over his eyes, and his book on his lap. Suddenly a beautiful delft blue-and-white flower-pot, which had been set on the window-sill of an upper story, fell to the ground with a crash, and the fragments flew up round my father's feet. But my father continued to read.
"Dear, dear!" cried my mother, who was at work in the porch; "my poor flower-pot, that I prized so much! I would rather the best tea-set were broken! The poor geranium I reared myself, and the dear, dear flower-pot which Mr. Caxton bought for me my last birthday! That naughty child must have done this!"
I came out of the house as bold as brass, and said rapidly, "Yes, mother, it was I who pushed out the flower-pot."
"Hush!" said my nurse, while gazing at my father, who had very slowly taken off his hat, and was looking on with serious, wide-awake eyes.
"Hush! And if he did break it, ma'am, it was quite an accident. He was standing so, and he never meant it. Did you? Speak!" this in a whisper, "or father will be so very angry."
"Well," said mother, "I suppose it was an accident; take care in the future, my child. You are sorry, I see, to have grieved me. There is a kiss; don't fret."
"No, mother, you must not kiss me; I don't deserve it, I pushed out the flower-pot on purpose."
"Ah! and why?" said my father, walking up.
"For fun!" said I, hanging my head; "just to see how you'd look, father; and that's the truth of it."
My father threw his book fifty feet off, stooped down, and caught me in his arms. "Boy," he said, "you have done wrong; you shall repair it by remembering all your life that your father blessed God for giving him a son who spoke truth in spite of fear."
II
Not long after, Mr. Squills gave me a beautiful large box of dominoes, made of cut ivory. This domino box was my delight. I was never tired of playing at dominoes with my old nurse, and I slept with the box under my pillow.
"Ah!" said my father one day when he found me arranging the ivory pieces in the parlor, "do you like that better than all your playthings?"
"Oh, yes, father!"
"You would be very sorry if mother were to throw that box out of the window and break it, for fun." I looked pleadingly at my father, and made no answer. "But perhaps you would be very glad," he went on, "if suddenly one of those good fairies you read of could change the domino box into a beautiful geranium in a lovely blue-and-white flower-pot.
Then you could have the pleasure of putting it on mother's window-sill."
"Indeed I would," said I, half crying.
"My dear boy, I believe you; but good _wishes_ do not mend bad actions; good _actions_ mend bad actions." So saying he shut the door and went out.
"My boy," said he the next day, "I am going to walk to town; will you come? And, by the by, fetch your domino box; I should like to show it to a person there."
"Father," said I by the way, "there are no fairies now how then can my domino box be changed into a geranium in a blue-and-white flower-pot?"
"My dear," said my father, leaning his hand on my shoulder, "everybody who is in earnest to be good, carries two fairies about with him--one here," and he touched my forehead, "and one there," and he touched my heart.
"I don't understand, father."
"I can wait until you do, my son."
My father stopped at a nursery-gardener's, and after looking over the flowers, paused before a large geranium. "Ah, this is finer than that which your mother was so fond of. What is the price of this, sir?"
"Only seven and six pence," said the gardener. My father buttoned up his pocket.
"I can't afford it to-day," said he gently, and we walked out.
III
On entering the town we stopped again at a china warehouse. "Have you a flower-pot like that I bought some months ago? Ah, here is one, marked three and six pence. Yes, that is the price. Well, when mother's birthday comes again, we must buy her another. That is some months to wait. And we can wait, my boy. For truth, that blooms all the year round, is better than a poor geranium; and a word that is never broken is better than a piece of delft."
My head, which had been drooping before, rose again; but the rush of joy at my heart almost stifled me. "I have called to pay your bill,"
said my father, entering a shop.
"And, by the by," he added, "my boy can show you a beautiful domino box." I produced my treasure, and the shopman praised it highly. "It is always well, my boy, to know what a thing is worth, in case one wishes to part with it. If my son gets tired of his plaything, what will you give him for it?"
[Illustration: MY FATHER STOPPED AT A NURSERY-GARDENER'S]
"Why, sir," said the shopman; "I think we could give eighteen shillings for it."
"Eighteen shillings!" said my father; "you would give that? Well, my boy, whenever you do grow tired of your box, you have my leave to sell it."
My father paid his bill, and went out. I lingered behind a few moments, and joined him at the end of the street.
"Father, father!" I cried, clapping my hands, "we can buy the geranium; we can buy the flower-pot!" And I pulled a handful of silver from my pocket.
"Did I not say right?" said my father. "You have found the two fairies!"