The Orphan's Home Mittens and George's Account of the Battle of Roanoke Island

"I went to Uncle Joe's in the spring, you know, so of course I couldn't keep that."

"You went from choice, though."

"Yes, sir; but I did keep it up a month, I know."

His father then went more rapidly over the remaining resolutions, simply desiring him when he came to one he was sure of having kept, to speak. These were of various degrees of importance; resolves to be first in his Latin class, to obtain a certain prize at school, to drink no tea and coffee, to give up by-words, &c. To no one of all these could Joel say Aye, excepting to the coffee and tea resolution. That, with help from his mother, he had carried out.

The reason why this exposure was particularly mortifying, was because Joel was quite proud of being considered a pretty good boy. He had seldom been so much humbled before. After a little pause his father said, kindly, seeing the boy's troubled face, "You thought you should do all these things when you wrote this, did you not?"

"Yes, sir. I felt sure of it."

"What is the reason you failed?"

"I don't know. I didn't try, I suppose."

"Yes, you did try, for you kept your promises partially."

"I tried awhile, but I didn't stick to it."

"Very true. Do you remember something Solomon says about searching for wisdom?"

"I don't remember."

"He says, he that would have wisdom must search for her as for silver, and seek her as a man seeks hid treasure. You seek wisdom when you set before you such resolutions as these. Now if a man believes there is gold in a certain place, he keeps digging and digging for weeks, till he strikes the vein. If he were sure it was there, I presume he would labor for it for years. But what if, when he comes to a rock, he should throw down his pick and desert the field? Has he gained anything?"

"No, sir."

"But has lost all his time and labor, and is further from fortune than ever, by the force of shiftless, unsteady habits. Now this is a case similar to yours. You are further from being generous and true and persevering, in short from possessing Christian character, than you were this time a year ago. By your carelessness and idleness, you came out of your field without a grain of gold. Besides, by making resolves and breaking them continually, you are losing all moral power and all confidence in yourself. It were better to make no promises than to be guilty of breaking so many."

Joel's convictions were fast overcoming his feelings, and the tears were starting when he asked, "What shall I do, then, if I mustn't make any more resolutions, father?"

"I do not say you must not make any more resolutions; but before you make them, count the cost of keeping them. You must not break any more resolutions. One great secret of failure is, that you get discouraged because you are not perfect. Now, if you fail one day, you should not give up, but make haste to reach your old ground to-morrow. In regard to these resolutions, probably you were not sufficiently in earnest in the first place; but in the next place, you were not wise, when you first failed a little, to give up all because you could not do all. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir; do you think it is worth while for me to try this year? I do want to do right!"

"Certainly I do. By your failure you have learned a lesson which will keep you both careful and humble in future. I will help you by warning, and God will help you; but you must rely chiefly on your own strong determination. 'The kingdom of heaven' (that is, the attainment of righteousness, such as you set before you in your New Year's resolutions) 'suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force.'"

Joel has commenced anew to follow one or two all-important resolutions; how he will succeed, the year, as its daily pages are written, will keep record. Let all children who have shared his failure, and they are not a few, start afresh with him to share his victory, making his first resolution, to "hold fast that which is good."

"Ah! what a good story this is," said I, as I finished reading, "I wish you would all try to keep some of these resolutions."

"So we will," they cried.

"I don't think you will be successful at first. I know that I should break them many times; but if you ask God to help you, you may in time be able to overcome the continual temptation to break them."

Then we had a long friendly talk together; and I saw, here and there, a beautiful trait, or noble impulse, in these poor orphan boys. They were rude to each other, but they were not mean; and I felt sure that, rightly trained, they would become, in time, good boys and good men.

"Suppose, my dear boys," I said, "I get pen, ink, and paper, and write out these resolutions, for each of you to keep a copy in your pockets; they will help to remind you. I will only ask you to try to keep them. Will you promise me this much?"

They all said they would try as hard as they could.

"Will you promise me to pray to God to help you?"

They promised this with downcast eyes and serious faces.

Then I said: "Well, let us see how you can mind me to begin. I am going into the committee room for the pen, ink, and paper. I expect you to sit quite still, till I come back; will you promise me this?"

"Oh yes, ma'am; we won't speak or stir from our seats," they all cried.

"I believe you," I said. I wish you could have seen their eyes sparkle when I said that! They were so glad that I put trust in them.

I went to the committee room, and there the first directress began to talk to me; and I staid much longer than I at first intended. When I went back with my writing materials, I listened an instant at the door. It was perfectly still.

"We have not moved or spoken," said all the boys at once.

"I believe you," I answered. "You are first rate fellows! not so bad, after all. I think there must have been some mistake about that bad conduct. You can behave so well when you try. I hope it is a mistake that will never happen again. I came in this room feeling very unhappy about you; but now I am very much encouraged. What do you think about being called the ten best boys in the school?"

They chuckled and grinned at this; and one boy gave another a sly poke, and said, "Here's the best boy! he hasn't known a single lesson these six weeks;" and another said, "No! this is the best boy; he broke three panes of glass last night in one of the play-room windows;" and another, "Oh, no; this is the best boy, because he's got such a big wart on his nose."

I let them talk, while I wrote on ten half pages of note paper these resolutions:

"1st. I will read the Bible, and pray, night and morning.

"2d. I will try to keep the Golden Rule.

"3d. I will always tell the exact truth."

"There," said I, "that will do." So I gave one paper to each, with a few earnest words; and shook hands with them again, as they promised me to try to keep them; and then they went softly back into the great school-room.

I looked in a few moments after, and saw that they were quietly studying.

The next Friday, I had my ten naughty boys in the little room again.

"Well," said I, "how did you keep the resolutions?"

"Oh!" cried Jacob, "I've broken the Golden Rule."

"Why, how?" I asked.

"Why, ma'am, David had a ball, and he lent it to me, and when he wanted it again, I would not give it to him, but threw it as far as I could out of the window."

"Oh, Jacob!" I exclaimed, "how well you understood what the rule is! Tell me; what ought you to have done?"

"I ought to have given David his ball when he asked for it."

"Why?"

"Because, ma'am, I would have liked him to do so to me."

"Ah, yes; that is it. You understand, and you have sinned wilfully. I am very sorry, dear Jacob; but it is never too late to mend; and I am glad you have had the honesty to confess what you have done; that is a noble trait in you Jacob, and I want you to come and kiss me."

The boy burst out crying at this; and as he kissed my cheek with his trembling lips, I said to myself, "This a bad boy? No, he is a splendid boy!"

Don't you see that my making him feel that I loved him, was the way to his heart? I think if ladies would be just as tender to poor children as they are to their own, it would have a wonderful effect. Only make a child feel that you love him, that he is more than a poor little beggar dependent upon your charity, and he will try to deserve all your kindness.

All the boys had to confess they had broken their resolutions; and to all I talked kindly; but one of them whispered to another: "She did not give us any kiss." Fortunately I heard this, and I said, "Boys, I am going to give you another chance. I shall bring a beautiful little book next time, and the boy who has behaved the best, shall have the book. I shall not ask the teacher. I shall depend entirely on your own accounts of yourselves, for I intend to trust you, and believe what you say. To make myself certain that you would scorn to deceive me, and above all, that you would not offend Our Heavenly Father by a falsehood, I wish you all to shake hands once more, and give me a kiss; then I am certain you will mean to keep at least the third resolution. What is it?"

"I will always tell the exact truth," they shouted.

So they kissed my cheek, and then I read to them a story I had written some time before for that dear little magazine, "The Standard Bearer." Here is the story, and the good minister's name is Dr. Prime.

The other day Aunt Fanny was talking with a good minister, and asked him which he thought were best for children – funny stories or serious ones.

"Well," said he, "suppose I relate what happened to me last week, and leave you to guess?"

"Oh! that will be delightful!" I answered. "I am just as fond as the children are of hearing stories, and, as they say: 'Please begin right away.'"

"Very well. Last week I was in Rochester, in this State. There is a very large orphan asylum there, and I was invited to visit it, and address the boys. I was very glad to do so; and when I entered the chapel, I found several hundred boys waiting for me – some with bright, honest faces, some looking full of mischief and fun, and all wondering what the minister was going to say, and no doubt hoping he was a good kind of a minister, who did not think it wrong to play.

"I fancy they must have seen something that pleased them in my face; for when I said, 'Boys, which would you rather have, a story or a sermon?' they all shouted out merrily, 'A story! a story!' and some added: 'Let it begin, "Once upon a time," for that is the best kind of story.'

"Very well, boys, you shall have a story, and it shall begin just as you say.

"Once upon a time, a little girl was playing in a garden, rolling hoop, jumping rope, and talking to her doll. After a while, she ran to her mother, who was sitting upon a bench that was under a wide-spreading tree, and asked if she might have some luncheon. Her mother went into the house, and soon returned with a small basket, and gave it to the little one. What was her surprise and delight, when she peeped in, to find a light, delicate biscuit, a nice cake, a beautiful ripe peach, and a little cherry tart.

"Lucy (for that was her name) placed all these things on the bench, and clapping her hands with delight, exclaimed: 'Oh! how nice they all look! What a fine party dolly and I will have with them!' Then she put the biscuit in dolly's white kid hand, who smiled sweetly all the time, and taking the cake in her own, began to eat it.

"Just then a poor woman approached the gate. Holding fast to her ragged dress was a little boy, so wan, so thin, so starved-looking, that Lucy stopped eating, and gazed pityingly at him.

"'Oh! what nice white bread!' said the poor boy.

"'It is not bread – it is cake,' said Lucy.

"'Alas! little lady,' said the poor woman, 'he does not know what cake is; he is too glad to get a crust of bread.'

"'Poor boy!' said Lucy kindly. 'How strange not to know what cake is! Here, take it.'

"He seized the cake, and in a moment he had eaten it up.

"Then Lucy took up the cherry tart, and stretching out her hand, said, in her sweet voice: 'Eat this too, poor boy!'

"He did not need to be asked twice; and the tart soon disappeared.

"'Now, take this,' said Lucy, handing him the beautiful peach.

"With joyful eagerness the boy swallowed the peach, while the generous child looked on, her face glowing with delight; and then she took the biscuit out of dolly's hand, and gave it to the poor little fellow, who finished it in double quick time, and dolly smiled just as sweetly as ever, when she gave up her biscuit, which was very good-natured in her, under the circumstances. Then the poor woman poured out thanks and blessings upon the head of the dear little girl, and upon her mother who had given the poor woman a piece of money; and she and her son went on their way with grateful hearts, the little boy looking back at Lucy as long as he could see her.

"Then the mother took the little girl in her arms, and kissed her, and said: 'My darling! you have not had any luncheon.'

"'Oh, mamma!' said Lucy, her face still glowing with pleasure, 'I feel as if I had eaten it all myself.'

"You see, boys, that the noble-hearted little child was even more happy in giving than the poor boy was in receiving; and I want you every day of your lives to love one another, and be generous and kind one to another – to do as you would wish to be done by, for this is what little Lucy did.

"God has laid His hand of blessing on your heads; He has placed you who have no earthly parents in this pleasant home, to show you that He is your Father; and the only way in which you can prove your gratitude to Him is, to 'Love one another;' and if you love one another, you will keep His commandments. Love your teachers, and you will obey them. Love God, and you will keep His commandments.

"And now, which do you think you have had – a sermon or a story?

"'A story!' shouted some of the boys.

"'A sermon!' shouted others.

"'Both!' shouted still more."

Dear little readers, which do you think it was – a story, a sermon, or BOTH?

I asked my boys when I finished whether they thought it was a story or a sermon, and they shouted just like the other boys; some, that it was one, and some the other; but they liked it very much, and thanked me for reading it. Then I said, "I will give this little 'Standard Bearer' to any one of you: which one shall it be?"

"Give it to Jacob," shouted nearly all the boys, for they all liked him.

I handed it to Jacob; and what do you think he did? He gave it to the smallest boy, saying, "I think little Joseph ought to have it."

That was really noble, because he was very fond of reading, and I knew that he wanted it; but the little fellow looked so wishful, that Jacob did as he would wish to be done by, and the bright glow on his face showed how happy this little sacrifice had made him.

And I! – wasn't I happy? Yes, indeed! And I bade them all good-by, and promised to bring a "real nice book" next time, and went back to the room where the ladies were sewing, with such a joyous expression on my face, that they asked if my ten bad boys had all flown away to the moon? to which I gravely answered: "The badness has flown away, and left ten splendid boys."

The next Friday came; and, true to my promise, I carried a book which contained a very interesting story of two children who lived in Gibraltar with their father, who was an officer in the English army. It described the battles the English fought on sea and land to obtain possession of that famous rock; a trip the children took to Africa, which you know is just opposite; and was so full of information about the customs and manners of the people who lived there, that it made a delightful little history, told in the form of a story.

My ten boys met me in the little room with joyful greetings; but I am sorry to say they had to confess that they had not kept the resolutions any better than before. Still, as they showed plainly that they wanted to be good, I was puzzled to whom to give the book, as they all seemed to have behaved equally naughty as well as good.

"I don't want to take the book home again," I said; "whom shall I give it to?"

"Give it to me!" "Give it to me!" "No, to me!" each one shouted.

I looked reproachfully at them, and said quietly, "Then it seems you are all selfish."

At this they began to call out, "Give it to Jacob," "Give it to Theodore," &c.

"Well," I said, "you have all been bad alike, according to your own confessions. I will draw lots for you, on condition that the boy who gets the book shall lend it cheerfully to the rest in turn to read, and the rest of the boys must feel willing and happy to have the winner keep it. Will you try to do this?"

They eagerly promised. So I cut ten little squares of paper, while they gathered round me and looked on with the greatest interest, and on each bit of paper I put a boy's name.

"Now, boys, you will all have a chance. See – I will roll up each bit, and tumble them all together in this saucer; and then who shall take them out one by one?"

"All of us," they cried.

"No, that won't do. Let Joseph, as he is the smallest boy; and mind, the last one wins."

"Yes, ma'am," they said; and now it was funny to see the intense importance with which little Joseph put in his thumb and finger among the papers. He took one, dropped it, and took another and handed it to me.

You could have heard a pin drop while I unfolded it; and when I read "Joseph," the little fellow's face grew so long that I felt very sorry, and wished I had bought ten books.

"Never mind, my little fellow, you will read it, you know," I said; "and you will be glad for the boy who gets it – won't you?"

He brightened up in a moment, and drew another and another till only two were left.

The two boys whose names had not yet been called were now the objects of the highest interest to the rest, and they were laughing and telling Joseph to stir the bits of paper up well. He drew again – "James" was the name – and the book belonged to Theodore, whose bright black eyes danced with delight, for his was the name left in the saucer.

"But I will let you all read it," he said, "even before I do – and little Joseph first."

I was delighted to hear him say this, and still more delighted that not a mean expression or covetous look was to be seen in the faces of my good boys. They stood the hard test nobly, and that day I was very happy.

Soon after this my daughter was taken very ill, as you know, and I could not go for many weeks to the Home: when I did go, I found everything pleasant and quiet, but the boys were restless and troublesome. So I made a report at the beginning of the next month, stating that they did not have enough to do. You see our girls learn to sew, wash and iron, and keep house. But we were puzzled to find suitable work for our boys; and I proposed in my report that they should learn some mechanical trade, and recommended that the managers should begin with shoe-making.

To my great gratification, the ladies all approved of this; and I can tell you I soon hunted up a shoemaker who was willing to come and teach them for a little money, and in a week there was a dozen boys provided with tools, leather, &c., hard at work, and very happy learning to make and mend shoes.

Such piles of shoes as wanted mending, so many little toes had rubbed out holes, that I had to laugh, for they all looked as if they were laughing with their mouths wide open. I told the boys, that as soon as they knew how to make shoes well, they must make a pair of boots for me, for which I would pay them just as much as I did my shoemaker in Broadway. They were delighted at this, and ran their tongues out, and sewed away, and promised to try their very best.

About this time we got a new teacher, a kind, grave man, whom the children liked very much. I wanted to see exactly how he managed with the children; so one day I went into the school room, and asked to have my boys read for me. The teacher gave them each a history of the United States, and handed one to me. Every boy read a paragraph in turn, and I was surprised at their improvement. They minded their stops, and generally placed the emphasis properly.

While they were reading, one little bit of a girl after another crept up to me and leaned confidingly against me; and before the reading was through, I had five of these motherless little ones nestling close to my knees. You see they did not have to sit very quiet, or learn much, because they were none of them five years old; and if they did not make a noise, they could move about a little. I said to one of them, "Well, little Kate, did you get a doll last Christmas?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered; "and I broke it all to pieces."

Then she gave a little chuckling laugh, and looked so roguish, that I pinched her fat red cheeks. If you go to the Orphan's Home, ask to see Kate, and Lillie, and Maggie; for they are three nice little girls. Just before my daughter got so well that I could return to my pleasant work at the Home, something happened which filled me with grief. Our kind first directress, and my dear friend the treasurer, resigned their offices. They grieved about it even more than I did. They had been with the orphans so long, and had worked so hard for these poor children.

But it could not be helped. They thought it best for others to take their places, although they would remain just as warm friends as ever to the little ones.

And now I believe I have written all that there is to relate about my children in the Home, up to this time. If you feel an interest in them, and you and I live another year, at the end of it I will tell you all that happens during the year. Would you like it?

That was the end. The children clapped their hands and said, "Oh, mamma! this is the very best story yet. Dear little orphans! how sorry we are they have no mothers and fathers! What should we do if you should die!"

At this distressing thought, they rushed to their mother, and clasped her with I don't know how many arms, and kissed her forehead, and eyes, and nose, and chin, and the back of her head, till from very nearly crying they all got laughing; and two or three tumbled down in a heap together on the carpet. "Oh, dear, dear!" cried the little mother, laughing and struggling, "you will kill me if you love me so desperately; I shan't have half a nose or quarter of an ear left between you all. Shoo! Boo! Bang!"

They all fell off laughing, pretending to be shot; and soon after, with thanks to Aunt Fanny and their kind mother, the children went to bed.