TRY AGAIN!
By Charlotte Elizabeth
“Will you give my kite a lift?” said my little nephew to his sister, after trying in vain to make it fly by dragging it along the ground. Lucy very kindly took it up and threw it into the air, but, her brother neglecting to run off at the same moment, the kite fell down again.
“Ah! now, how awkward you are!” said the little fellow. “It was your fault entirely,” answered his sister. “Try again, children,” said I.
Lucy once more took up the kite. But now John was in too great a hurry; he ran off so suddenly that he twitched the kite out of her hand, and it fell flat as before. “Well, who is to blame now?” asked Lucy. “Try again,” said I.
They did, and with more care; but a side wind coming suddenly, as Lucy let go the kite, it was blown against some shrubs, and the tail became entangled in a moment, leaving the poor kite hanging with its head downward.
“There, there!” cried John, “that comes of your throwing it all to one side.” “As if I could make the wind blow straight,” said Lucy. In the meantime, I went to the kite’s assistance; and having disengaged the long tail, I rolled it up, saying, “Come, children, there are too many trees here; let us find a more open space, and then try again.”
We soon found a fine, open space, covered with green grass, and free from shrubs and trees. Then, all things being ready, I tossed the kite up just as little John ran off. It rose with all the dignity of a balloon, and promised a lofty flight; but John, delighted to find it pulling so hard at the string, stopped short to look upward and admire. The string slackened, the kite wavered, and, the wind not being very strong, down came the kite to the grass. “O John, you should not have stopped,” said I. “However, try again.”
“I won’t try any more,” replied he, rather sullenly. “It is of no use, you see. The kite won’t fly, and I don’t want to be plagued with it any longer.”
“Oh, fie, my little man! would you give up the sport, after all the pains we have taken both to make and to fly the kite? A few disappointments ought not to discourage us. Come, I have wound up your string, and now try again.”
And he did try, and succeeded, for the kite was carried upward on the breeze as lightly as a feather; and when the string was all out, John stood in great delight, holding fast the stick and gazing on the kite, which now seemed like a little white speck in the blue sky. “Look, look, aunt, how high it flies! and it pulls like a team of horses, so that I can hardly hold it. I wish I had a mile of string: I am sure it would go to the end of it.”
After enjoying the sight as long as he wished, little John proceeded to roll up the string slowly; and when the kite fell, he took it up with great glee, saying that it was not at all hurt, and that it had behaved very well. “Shall we come out to-morrow, aunt, and try again?”
“Yes, my dear, if the weather is fine. And now, as we walk home, tell me, what you have learned from your morning’s sport.”
“I have learned to fly my kite properly.”
“You may thank aunt for it, brother,” said Lucy, “for you would have given it up long ago, if she had not persuaded you to try again.”
“Yes, dear children, I wish to teach you the value of perseverance, even when nothing more depends upon it than the flying of a kite. Whenever you fail in your attempts to do any good thing, let your motto be,—TRY AGAIN.”
DEFINITIONS:—Entangled, twisted in, disordered. Assistance, help, aid. Disengaged, cleared, set free. Dignity, majestic manner. Disappointments, failures or defeats of expectation. Discourage, take away courage. Glee, joy. Perseverance, continuance in anything once begun. Motto, a short sentence or a word full of meaning.
EXERCISE—What is the subject of this lesson? Why was John discouraged in his attempts to fly his kite? What did his aunt say to him? What may we learn from this? What should be our motto if we expect to be successful?
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TRUE MANLINESS
I. “Please, mother, do sit down and let me try my hand,” said Fred Liscom, a bright active boy, twelve years old. Mrs. Liscom, looking pale and worn, was moving languidly about, trying to clear away the breakfast she had scarcely tasted.
She smiled, and said, “You, Fred, you wash dishes?” “Yes, indeed, mother,” answered Fred; “I should be a poor scholar if I couldn’t, when I’ve seen you do it so many times. Just try me.”
A look of relief came over his mother’s face as she seated herself in her low rocking-chair. Fred washed the dishes and put them in the closet. He swept the kitchen, brought up the potatoes from the cellar for the dinner and washed them, and then set out for school.
Fred’s father was away from home, and as there was some cold meat in the pantry, Mrs. Liscom found it an easy task to prepare dinner. Fred hurried home from school, set the table, and again washed the dishes.
He kept on in this way for two or three days, till his mother was able to resume her usual work, and he felt amply rewarded when the doctor, who happened in one day, said, “Well, madam, it’s my opinion that you would have been very sick if you had not kept quiet.”
The doctor did not know how the “quiet” had been secured, nor how the boy’s heart bounded at his words. Fred had given up a great deal of what boys hold dear, for the purpose of helping his mother, coasting and skating being just at this time in perfection.
Besides this, his temper and his patience had been severely tried. He had been in the habit of going early to school, and staying to play after it was dismissed.
The boys missed him, and their curiosity was excited when he would give no other reason for not coming to school earlier, or staying after school, than that he was “wanted at home.”
“I’ll tell you,” said Tom Barton, “I’ll find him out, boys—see if I don’t!”
So, one morning on his way to school, he called for Fred. As he went around to the side door he walked lightly. and somewhat nearer the kitchen window than was absolutely needful. Looking in, he saw Fred standing at the table with a dishcloth in his hand.
Of course he reported this at school, and various were the greetings poor Fred received at recess. “Well, you’re a brave one to stay at home washing dishes!” “Girl boy!” “Pretty Bessie!” “Lost your apron, haven’t you, Polly!”
Fred was not wanting either in spirit or in courage, and he was strongly tempted to resent these insults, and to fight some of his tormentors. But his consciousness of right and his love for his mother helped him.
While he was struggling for self mastery, his teacher appeared at the door of the schoolhouse. Fred caught his eye, and it seemed to look, if it did not say, “Don’t give up! Be really brave!” He knew the teacher had heard the insulting taunts of his thoughtless schoolmates.
The boys received notice during the day that Fred must not be taunted or teased in any manner. They knew that the teacher meant what he said; and so the brave little boy had no further trouble.
II. “Fire! fire! ” The cry crept out on the still night air, and the fire bells began to mug. Fred was wakened by the alarm and the red light streaming into his room. He dressed himself very quickly, and then tapped at the door of his mother’s bedroom.
“It is Mr. Barton’s house, mother. Do let me go,” he said in eager, excited tones. Mrs. Liscom thought a moment. He was young, but she could trust him, and she knew how much his heart was in the request.
“Yes, you may go,” she answered; “but be careful, my boy. If you can help, do so; but do nothing rashly.” Fred promised to follow her advice, and hurried to the fire.
Mr. and Mrs. Barton were not at home. The house had been left in charge of the servants. The fire spread with fearful speed, for there was a high wind, and it was found impossible to save the house. The servants ran about screaming and lamenting, but doing nothing to any purpose.
Fred found Tom outside, in safety. “Where is Katy?” he asked. Tom, trembling with terror, seemed to have had no thought but of his own escape. He said, “Katy is in the house!” “In what room?” asked Fred. “In that one,” answered Tom, pointing to a window in the upper story.
It was no time for words, but for instant, vigorous action. The staircase was already on fire; there was but one way to reach Katy, and that full of danger. The second floor might fall at any moment, and Fred knew it. But he trusted in an arm stronger than his own, and silently sought help and guidance.
A ladder was quickly brought, and placed against the house. Fred mounted it, followed by the hired man, dashed in the sash of the window, and pushed his way into the room where the poor child lay nearly suffocated with smoke.
He roused her with some difficulty, carried her to the window, and placed her upon the sill. She was instantly grasped by strong arms, and carried down the ladder, Fred following as fast as possible. They had scarcely reached the ground before a crash of falling timbers told them that they had barely escaped with their lives.
Tom Barton never forgot the lesson of that night; and he came to believe, and to act upon the belief, in after years, that true manliness is in harmony with gentleness, kindness, and self-denial.
DEFINITIONS:—Languidly, feebly. Amply, fully. Opinion, judgment, belief. Absolutely, wholly, entirely. Resent, to consider as an injury. Consciousness, inward feeling, knowledge of what passes in one’s own mind.