Part 2

After they had all cried and said they were sorry, mother Topknot began to pity them, they looked so cold and tired, and so she forgave them and cuddled them all under her wings once more.

Of course they had to go to bed without any supper, but that taught them a good lesson. They never did run away again.

That was not the only reason, though—the going without their supper. They had a fearful time. They told about it next day.

The great black dog chased them, a cat almost got one of them, and a boy threw stones at them.

SOME CURIOUS FISHES.

I DON'T suppose you think there are any fishes that can either walk or live any time out of water. Yet there are.

The gurnard is one of the most important of the walking fish. M. Deslongchamp had an artificial fish-pond on the shores of Normandy, in which several of these creatures were. When he waded in the pond, he could easily see all their movements.

On one occasion, when he was watching them in this way, he saw them close their fins against their sides, and walk along the ground by means of six slender legs, three on each pectoral fin. By these they can walk very fast.

The square-browed malthe can also walk, and can live out of water. Sometimes it spends two or three days creeping over the land. The reason that all fishes cannot stay out of water is because they are so made that they have to breathe air through water. All fishes are this way, but some can carry water in their gills both for breathing and drinking purposes for several days.

The grouper fish is very queer in that it will swallow such curious things, which you would not think it could possibly digest. One was caught on the coast of Queensland which, when opened, was found to have in its stomach two broken bottles, a quart pot, a preserved milk-tin, seven crabs, a piece of earthenware encrusted with oyster shells, a sheep's head, some mutton and beef bones, and some oyster shells.

There is a crab in the Keeling Islands, that lives on the land all day, returning to the water only at night to moisten its gills. It also eats cocoanuts, opening the shell with its huge claws, and the natives of the islands say that it climbs the trees to get them. This, however, is not known.

Thus we see that there are some very curious fishes; yet none of them have mind, and are not to be compared with man. Let us be thankful, then, that God made us human beings, and not fishes.

TIME ENOUGH.

ELMER'S new suit had just come home.

It was brown, with dashes of green in it. It fitted him exactly, and everybody knows it makes one feel good-natured when his new clothes fit well. When he tried them on, nobody jerked his pantaloons down, said they were too short, nor twitched his jacket up and said it was too low in the neck.

He laid them carefully over the back of a chair that night before he went to bed, then got out a clean collar and a green necktie, tucked a handkerchief into the side pocket of the jacket, and surveyed them all with a satisfied look.

Morning came, bright and splendid as anybody could wish. The steamboat with flying flags stood at the wharf, and a happy company of boys and girls, dressed in white and pink and red and blue, marched through the streets to the sound of music.

The procession passed through the great gates and were all comfortably settled on the boat fifteen minutes before it was time to start.

Elmer's home was a long walk from the church where the other scholars met, so he went directly to the steamboat landing.

He had just bought a new set of marbles. They were beauties, and when he met Will Porter, he could not resist the temptation to try his new marbles on the broad, smooth paving-stones just above the gates where no people were passing at this early hour. The game became so fascinating, that the boys played on, even after the procession had gone on board.

"Come on," Will said; "we'll be late."

"Oh, no! We won't be late. The boat will not start this quarter of an hour," Elmer answered, aiming a great blue marble at a red one.

Now the superintendent and the teachers had warned the school many times, "The gates will be closed at seven o'clock. If you are not on the other side of them by that time, you cannot go."

"Be prompt, boys and girls," Mr. Willard had said as he dismissed the Sabbath-school. "Do not come hurrying along at the last minute. Our trip next Wednesday is one of our lessons, and it will teach punctuality in rather a severe manner if one of you stands sorrowfully peeping through that big gate at us, while we glide off down the river. It will certainly spoil your pleasure and ours too if you are too late."

Not a boy who heard him thought that talk was meant for him. "'I' shall be in time," they told themselves; "of course I shall."

Elmer and Will had each a great fault. Elmer's was procrastination. He was always saying, "Wait a minute," "There's plenty of time," or "I'll do it by and by." Because of this habit, he was never known to be in time anywhere. His father had given him a watch at Christmas to see if that would not help him to improve, but it did not; he went on saying, "Time enough." Everybody had to wait for him.

When the rest of the family were ready for church, he would rush through the house like a hurricane, pulling and panting, up-stairs and down, calling out:

"Oh, dear! Can't somebody help me? Won't Mary black my boots? Do come and fix on my collar! Has anybody seen my lesson paper?"

And so the whole house would run here and there, waiting upon one who had dawdled away the whole morning.

[Illustration: THE BOAT STEAMED DOWN THE RIVER.]

Will's fault was different. He had no mind of his own. He was always ruled by the person he happened to be with, and never could say "No" to anybody, no matter what his judgment or his conscience told him.

He was uneasy now, and thought they ought to go that minute, but he played on, though he did say: "It's time to go, I know it is; the gates will be shut."

"No, they won't be shut either," Elmer said, drawing out his watch; "it's exactly ten minutes before they close. We can finish this game in five, and have plenty of time."

Watches do not always do their duty, any more than boys. Elmer's was five minutes slow—it must have caught the disease from him. The game went on. Will was going to win, he thought, and both boys grew excited over it; finally they fell into a slight dispute.

And—what was that? The steamboat bell! Clang! Ding, dong! Both boys scrambled up their marbles and rushed to the gate. It was shut! They shouted for the gate-keeper; he was nowhere in sight.

They cried to the captain, "Wait! Wait!"

But the clanging of the bell was their only answer.

Then the call "All aboard!"

The plank was drawn in, and the boat steamed down the river, the song of the children floating back on the breeze.

Sure enough! There they were, looking sorrowfully through the gate, just as Mr. Willard had said.

"It was all your fault," Will said.

Then he turned and ran away as fast as he could lest Elmer should see him crying.

Elmer looked about, astonished to find himself alone and really left behind. He could not believe it possible that the boat would not turn about and take him. Everybody had always waited for him before. But there they were, speeding on their way. It was too much!

He was angry, and "so" disappointed. Left behind! And all for those miserable mean marbles! He took them from his pocket and threw them as far as he could. He would have scolded, but there was nobody there to hear. He would have cried, but he thought he was too big. Oh, what a fool he had been! Was there ever such a fool before?

He did not want to go home; he did not want to go anywhere or do anything. He sat down on a box and kicked his heels against it. What a mean old world it was!

Perhaps his good angel leaned over him just then, for his thoughts took a sudden turn:

"It was my fault," he said to himself. "I'm always too late, and everybody's poking at me about it. Why can't I turn about and be like other folks! I declare I 'will!' I'll begin this very day."

He got down from his box at once and started towards home. In a little old-fashioned house which he passed lived auntie Simons, an old lady who was auntie to the whole town. She was out brushing off her front steps.

The old lady stopped, and leaning on her broom, looked over her spectacles a minute to make sure that it was really Elmer.

"Why, my child!" she said, as he came nearer. "What does all this mean? I thought you had gone to a picnic."

"I got left," Elmer said, his eyes fastened on the tree trunk near him.

"Now you don't say! Too bad! Well, don't look so downhearted. Come in and see me a spell. Come! I'm going to have flapjacks and maple syrup for breakfast, and I know you are half-starved by this time; didn't have time to snatch only a bite, now did you?"

What boy could withstand the attractions of flapjacks and maple syrup? Besides, he really was hungry. Excitement had prevented his eating much breakfast, so in he went.

While auntie Simons helped him bountifully to smoking hot cakes and golden syrup, he told her all about it—how he came to be left, and how he had resolved to turn over a new leaf.

"Yes, it does seem foolish," the old lady said when they sat on the porch after breakfast, "for you to lose a whole day's pleasure just by waiting a little bit too long, when you might have gone as well as not; but what shall we say of one who puts off coming to Christ until it is too late? Don't you, dear boy, say 'Time enough' to that. You can't tell how little time there may be left. You know when the gate down by the wharf was shut on you, you had a chance to sit down and think it all over, and make up your mind that you would be all right the next time, anyhow; but you see when the door is shut at the last—in death—it is shut 'forever.' It is open now. Jesus says, 'Come.' Do not put it off, Elmer dear."

A CUP OF COLD WATER.

"PLEASE to get my china cup for me, Ann," Daisy said, coming in from the "sweet out-doors," as she called it, where she had been trying to read her new picture-book.

Ann was shelling peas for dinner, and did not wish to be disturbed.

"What do you want of your cup?" she asked crossly.

"I want to get a drink for an old man."

"Well, take the dipper."

"No, the dipper won't do; I must have my cup, and I'm in a great hurry, a 'fearful' hurry," Daisy said, imitating her brother Tom.

"I can't be bothered with your notions," Ann said, making her fingers fly very fast. "I'm in a hurry too; it's high time these peas were cooking; besides, what old man is it? I don't believe your mother would let you give a drink of water out of your cup to every old fellow that came along if she was at home; like enough he's a tramp."

"No, he isn't a tramp; he's a 'siple. He told me so."

"A 'siple!" Ann said, bursting into a laugh. "What's that?"

"Why, papa read about them in the Bible. They are Jesus' servants, and he wants folks to give 'em a good drink of cold water when they are firsty."

[Illustration: DAISY.]

"Well, I can't help it," said Ann, laughing again. "I can't be jumping up from my work all the time to wait on everybody. Take a dipper, if you must give him a drink."

"Oh, dear!" cried Daisy. "I told you the dipper wouldn't do. It said a cup; and I want my very bufulest one—that one with little birds on it. Come! Do get it for me."

"Can't do it," Ann said, shelling peas with all her might.

Poor Daisy was hot and tired. She rested her elbows on the doorsill, and her chin on her hands, and looked very despairing. Two great tears came into her eyes, and at last she buried her face in her white apron and began to sob just as grandpa came along from the garden.

"Tut! Tut!" said grandpa. "What's the matter with my pet?"

He sat down on the step, drew Daisy to him, and wiped her warm, tear-stained face with his clean linen handkerchief. It took but a few seconds to make grandpa understand what the trouble was; then he got up and said:

"Come and show me where it is."

The sun came out again on Daisy's face, and with her hand tightly clasped in grandpa's, she pattered along to the dining-room closet—not tired a bit now.

Grandpa reached down the beautiful cup, then he got a pitcher and filled it with good cold water, and they two went down the front walk as fast as they could go.

When old Mr. Burton started out that morning to walk to the next town, he did not know what a very long, hot walk he had undertaken. He was a stranger, and was on his way to his son's house. When he left the cars, the stage had gone. He was too poor to hire a carriage to take him over, so he had to walk five miles in a burning sun.

As he jogged along, he grew very thirsty. He wished there was a spring by the roadside, but there was none. He came in sight of a large white house on the hill, and said to himself:

"I have a great notion to go in there and get a drink of water; but then, they are rich folks. They would take me for a tramp, and maybe set the dog on me."

As he came slowly along, looking up at the broad lawn with cool shadows of the great trees over it, he spied at the front gate a little girl. Her rosy face was hidden away in a white sunbonnet, but her blue eyes looked up smilingly.

"Be you a 'siple?" she asked shyly.

[Illustration: GRANDPA.]

"A what?" the old man said, looking down.

"A 'siple. Do you love Jesus?"

"Oh, you mean a disciple! Yes, little one, I belong to the Lord Jesus," Mr. Burton said.

"Do you want a drink of water?"

"Yes, indeed, my dear."

"Then I'll bring you one."

And Daisy's white dress vanished among the bushes while, the tired old man sat on the green grass at the edge of the walk and waited.

He was beginning to think he should see no more of her, when she appeared with a pretty china cup full of cold water; then grandpa came with the pitcher full, and the thirsty traveller had all the water he needed.

Grandpa invited him into the house to get a lunch before he went. Then Prince was harnessed and brought round, and grandpa said he had promised Daisy that he would take her to ride, and they might as well drive toward Woodbury as anywhere. So they all got into the carriage, and old Prince trotted off. The road was so smooth, the air so sweet, and the talk so pleasant, that before they knew it, they were at Woodbury; and there they left Mr. Burton.

He said he never should forget the little girl who brought him the cup of cold water, but that every day of his life he would ask God to bless her.

The verse that Daisy meant can be found in Matthew x:42.

ON NANTUCKET WHARF.

ALL was bustle and confusion in Mrs. Maynard's house in Boston, for she and her daughter Mattie were going to Nantucket Beach to stay a night, then to the Island Home to spend a week. It was the first time Mattie had been on the cars, for she was only six years old, and she had been but very few times on the steamboat.

At last they started. They were to go to New Bedford by the cars, and there to take a steamboat for Nantucket.

They had a very pleasant time at Nantucket, and Mattie arose bright and early on the morning in which she was to take her ride to Island Home. The boat was to start at ten o'clock. There was a great crowd on the wharf and Mattie held tight her mother's hand for fear she might get lost.

"Why, there is Mr. Ridgeway!" Mrs. Maynard said. "He is an old friend of mine and I must speak to him."

And she dropped Mattie's hand, and pushed through the crowd.

Mattie did not like her mother to leave her, but she stood still where she left her, so that she might be sure and find her when she came back.

She waited there a long time, but no Mrs. Maynard was to be seen. Mattie was very much frightened, and tried to get back to the place where her mother left her, but the crowd was so great that she could hardly move at all, for a little girl was not noticed at all in it.

After wandering about for awhile, a gruff voice called:

"Passengers for the Island Home all aboard! Boat goes in ten minutes! All aboard! All aboard!"

Everybody began to push forward, and soon the wharf was nearly empty.

Mattie knew her mother had not bought her ticket, and she went up to the ticket-office and asked the man if a "pretty lady in a linen duster, with a red feather in her hat, bought a ticket for the Island Home?"

"Do you think I keep account in a note-book of the color of all the folks' dresses and what kind of feathers they have on their hats?" he asked gruffly.

Mettle did not know what to say to this, so she said nothing, but wandered off to the farther part of the wharf and climbed up on some bags that lay behind a pile of boxes there. On these she knelt down and said:

"Dear Jesus, let mamma find me soon, and keep me safely till she comes. For Jesus' sake. Amen."

She repeated this simple prayer many times, and then went out from behind the pile of boxes again. She was very thirsty, and was very glad when she saw a faucet and a tin cup at the side of the ticket-office. She took a drink and was much refreshed, but was very tired, and she thought she would go and rest on the bags behind the boxes. She sat down on these, and was soon fast asleep. She awoke about four o'clock in the afternoon, and as she was rubbing her eyes and wondering where she was, she was startled by a voice exclaiming:

"And what's the loikes of this, shure?"

She looked up, and saw a gruff, but kindly-seeming man looking down at her. He was evidently a working-man, for he had his dinner-pail in his hand, and was leaning on a pick-axe and shovel.

Said Mattie:

"I'm Mattie Maynard, and I'm lost. That is, mamma left me on the wharf in the crowd, and didn't come back, and I'm awful hungry."

"And shure and me name is not Patrick O' Flannigan if I don't give ye something to eat. Poor gir-r-l!"

Whereupon he opened his pail and offered her a generous ham sandwich.

"Oh, thank you ever so much!" cried Mattie, as she took a large bite.

True, the bread was sour and the butter was strong, but Mattie was so hungry that she did not notice the defects in the food. Patrick sat down on the bags and watched her eat with great interest.

"An' ye can eat now, can't ye? Poor little gir-r-l! But I must be a-goin', shure!"

And he got up and went off the wharf.

There were many steamboats coming and going at Nantucket wharf, and Mattie climbed up on the boxes and watched the crowds as they passed by.

But at last night came on, and Mattie did not know what to do. She crept in among the bags, and covered herself up, but they smelled bad, and she knew she could not sleep on them all night. She thought once she would ask the ticket agent to let her stay in the ticket-office, but he had spoken so crossly to her that morning that she did not like to. She was not very sleepy, because of the long nap she had taken in the daytime, and wandered about on the wharf till about eleven o'clock, and then she went and sat down on the bags and fell asleep.

[Illustration: THE ISLAND HOME LEAVES THE WHARF.]

When she woke up, the morning sun was streaming into her eyes, and from the hurrying to and fro of many feet, she knew that the morning steamer had come in from the Island Home. She got up and watched the crowd, for she thought maybe her mother might have gone to the Island Home, after all, and had come back.

Sure enough! Just as the crowd had passed, she saw the "red feather" on her mother's hat and gave a little scream of delight as she saw her go over and speak to the ticket agent. She ran eagerly over to her, pulled her dress and called:

"Mamma! Mamma! Here I am!"

Her mother turned suddenly and caught her in her arms and cried:

"My darling child!"

Then the whole story came out. Mrs. Maynard had been detained about half an hour in getting through the crowd, and when she finally came to where she had left Mattie, and she was not there, she was very much frightened, and found Mr. Ridgeway again, and told him about it.

They followed the crowd into town, and, following them everywhere, ascertained that she was not among them. They anxiously turned back to the wharf just, as the steamer pulled up, and the crowd began to rush on board. They hoped that Mattie might also have gone on the steamer, and went through it hunting for her. But while they were hunting, the boat started, and Mrs. Maynard was obliged to stay at the Island Home all night, and was just coming off the steamer when she was discovered by Mattie. They took the ten o'clock boat for the Island Home, and spent a very happy week there. But as Mattie was going to bed that night, she said:

"Mamma, I want to tell you something."

"Well, darling?"

"I asked God to have you find me, and to keep me safe till you did, and I think that is the reason you did."

"Yes, darling, I think so too; and I thank him very much for sparing my Mattie to me. Let us kneel down and tell him so now."

LILY DAY.