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- Mother, I'll come pretty soon; you won't care if I stop a moment to rest, for I'll come- -I'll come.”
The last words were said very faintly, and he sank down into the white snow and fell asleep. God heard his prayer and gave him “some warmth.” He rested, poor little weary one, not on the bed of snow, but in the loving arms of angels.
When the storm had ceased, the workmen, clearing the snow from the road, saw a small, dark object, not far from them. On approaching, they found the body of faithful little Carl, half covered with the glistening snow. Tenderly they bore it to the house and laid it on his little bed. Even those rough men could not refrain from tears when they saw the mother's grief, and heard how bravely Carl had started out in search of her.
Mina and her mother still live in the old house, and whenever the wind roars down the chimney and the storm beats against the house, they think of that night which brought them such sorrow and their Carl such joy.
Honour thu Butiyer and try
EXODUS XX. 12.
HERE are many trees whose branches
naturally hang downwards, and if these reach the ground they give origin to a new set of roots, so that they become stems in their turn. The most curious example of this kind is the Banyan tree of the East Indies, of which one sometimes constitutes a miniature forest. Of
these trees there is one celebrated individual which many years since had three-hundred and fifty principal trunks, and smaller stems, amounting to more than 3000, all of which were casting out 'new branches and hanging roots to form future trunks. The space of ground which it covered was such, that it was estimated that 7000 persons might have reposed beneath its shade.
Ihese trees are held by the Hindoos in superstitious reverence, and are dedicated to religious observances. Our own poet Milton, has given a beautiful description of them :
The fig-tree, not that for its fruit renown'd,
High over-arch'd with echoing walks between. And thus shall Christianity, as a tree of life, send forth its branches and off-shoots, until it covers the whole earth, and all nations find repose beneath its ample shade; while all shall pluck of its precious fruit, and eat thereof and live for eyer.-T. B.
A Chapter of wonders.
fairy stories ever since fairies
If you think small people two or three inches high are amusing, what would
you think of a little creature so small as barely to be seen by the naked eye ; so small, indeed, that he and thousands of others have plenty of room to live, and grow, and travel around in a tiny puddle of water? And what sort of a house would you think such an atom of a thing could build ? What if I should tell you that he can build a brick house ; that he selects from the water in which he lives the necessary materials, shapes them in a mould which he has in his body, and piles up a regular house for himself? You can hardly believe it, but it is perfectly true.
What do you think of creatures so tiny that a whole family can live in the cavities in a grain of sand ? To your eye, a grain of sand looks perfectly round; but these dots of cfeatures find comfortable caves to live in. How do you suppose they like it—to be mixed up with water and other things, and walled up in a stone wall? It's as bad to them as to be shut up in an enchanted palace, and worse, for no disenchanting words will let them out.
The world of wonders opened to us by the microscope is stranger than all the tales of giants, genii, and enchantment you ever heard. Think-if you can- of atoms so small that whole colonies can live in one drop of water, and swim around as freely as whales in the ocean; and that it would take many millions of them together to be as large as the head of a pin. Imagine these specks of life swimming around in the water, chasing other creatures smaller than themselves for food. They're almost too 'small to think of. You would never think of looking for beauty in these little creatures, but they are most exquisitely formed and coloured. Many, not so large as the head of a pin, are as perfect and beautiful as a flower, and just as nicely adapted to their life in every particular as a human being is to his.
Many creatures in the sea look so much like flowers, that in olden times they were supposed to be flowers; but, studied by the help of the microscope, they are seen to be animals, though as beautiful in colour and shape as the loveliest flowers that grow. One kind is called the sea-lily, and there are anemones, daisies, and other flower
But each one is a hungry little animal, waving
around in the water, not to look pretty, but to catch something to eat, to stuff into the eager mouths they always
have. How do you suppose the sponge you have to
use with your slate at school spent his time when he was alive, before he was torn from his home for your use? see those little, very little hills on him, each one of which has a hole in it? Well, he spent his time in drawing in the water through the other tiny holes all over him, and after he had snatched all that was good to eat, spirting it out again through these little volcanoes. Why he made a regular fountain down there at the bottom of the sea. I wouldn't be surprised if your father wears some pieces of sponge for shirt-studs and sleeve-buttons. You ask him if he wears the fashionabe “moss agates,” and if he does, you just tell him it is nothing but flint, with pieces of sponge turned to stone in it.
If you've ever been to the mountains—and I hope you have—you remember seeing piles and piles of immense rocks. Many of these rocks are made entirely of the shells of some of these sea-atoms, each one no larger round than one of your hairs, but as beautiful as the large seashells
you have seen so carefully preserved. These curiosities of the sea take the most wonderful shapes you ever thought of. Some families look like a basket of flowers, as large as a peach-basket. Every stem of the basket is a house, in the shape of a long tube, and the flowers are only the lovely little animals' heads stuck out of their houses. Another kind is called the feather star, and looks exactly like a star made of lovely rose-coloured plumes. Nothing can be more beautiful than this little star wavering around in the water. Then there's the sea-moss. To the eye it seems a mere film of moss on some old stone; but under the microscope, it turns out to be a perfect forest of little trees