Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
Your father and mother obey,
Try ever to please them;
And mind what they say,
Even when they
Are absent from you;
And never forget that,
Though no one is nigh,
You cannot be hid from
The Glance of God's eye,
Who notices all
That you do.
Principle Put To The Test
A youngster at school,
More sedate than the rest,
Had once his integrity
Put to the test:--
His comrades had plotted
The orchard to rob,
And asked him to go
And assist in the job.
He was very much shocked,
And answered, "Oh no!
What! rob our poor neighbour!
I pray you don't go;
Besides, the man's poor,
His orchard's his bread;
Then think of his children,
For they must be fed."
"You speak very fine,
And you look very grave,
But apples we want,
And apples we'll have;
If you will go with us,
We'll give you a share,
If not, you shall have
Neither apple nor pear."
They spoke, and Tom pondered--
"I see they will go;
Poor man! What a pity
To injure him so!
Poor man! I would save him
His fruit if I could,
But staying behind
Will do him no good.
"If this matter depended
Alone upon me,
His apples might hang
Till they dropped from the tree;
But since they _will_ take them,
I think I'll go too,
He will lose none by me,
Though I get a few."
His scruples this silenced,
Tom felt more at ease,
And went with his comrades
The apples to seize;
He blamed and protested
But joined in the plan,
He shared in the plunder,
But pitied the man.
Cowper
Advice
Who steals a pin
Commits a sin
Who tells a lie
Has cause to sigh.
When ask'd to go
And sin, say, No!
The guilty breast
Is ne'er at rest.
You must not sin
A world to win
Why should you go
The way to woe.
The Boy And His Mother
In Aesop, we are told, a boy,
Who was his mother's pride and joy,
At school a primer stole one day,
And homeward then did wend his way.
He told his mother of the theft,
While she, of principle bereft,
Patted him on the head and smil'd.
And said, "You are my own dear child."
She praised him for the cunning feat,
And gave him a nice apple sweet.
In course of years the boy grew fast,
Till he became a man at last;
But all the time he slyly stole--
Sometimes a piece--sometimes the whole,
Till, finally, he grew so bold,
He kill'd a man and took his gold.
The day on which he had to swing
Did a large crowd together bring.
Among the rest his mother came,
And called him fondly by his name.
The sheriff gave him leave to tell
The broken-hearted dame farewell!
About his neck her arms she flung,
And cried, "Why must my child be hung?"
He answered, "Call me not your dear."
And by one stroke bit off her ear;
While all the crowd cried, "Oh! for shame!
Not satisfied to blast her name.
You add this violence to one
Whose happiness you have undone!"
"Good people," he replied, "I'll vow
I would not be a felon now.
If my mother had only tried
To win me to the better side.
But when in infancy I took
What was not mine, a small torn book,
Instead of punishing the feat
She gave to me an apple sweet;
She prais'd me too, and softly smil'd,
And said, 'You are my own dear child!'
I tell you here, both foe and friend,
This is the cause of my sad end."
[Page 72--Stealing Land]
The Boys And The Apple Tree
As Billy and Tommy
Were walking one day,
They came by a fine orchard side;
They'd rather eat apples
Than spell, read, or play,
And Tommy to Billy then cried,
"O brother, look! see
What fine clusters hang there,
I'll jump and climb over the wall;
I will have an apple,
I will have a pear,
Or else it shall cost me a fall."
Said Billy to Tommy,
"To steal is a sin,
Mamma has oft told this to thee;
O never yet stole,
Nor now will begin,
So red apples hang on the tree."
"You are a good boy,
As you ever have been,"
Said Tommy; let's walk on, my lad;
We'll call on our school-fellow
Little Bob Green,
And to see us I know he'll be glad."
They came to a house,
And they rang at the gate,
And asked, "Pray, is Bobby at home?"
But Bobby's good manners
Did not let them wait;
He out of the parlour did come.
Bob smil'd, and he laughed,
And he caper'd with joy,
His little companions to view.
"We call'd in to see you,"
Said each little boy.
Said Bobby, "I'm glad to see you.
"Come walk in our garden,
So large and so fine;
You shall, for my father gives leave;
And more, he insists
That you'll stay here to dine:
A rare jolly day we shall have!"
But when in the garden,
They found 'twas the same
They saw as they walk'd in the road;
And near the high wall,
When these little boys came,
They started, as if from a toad.
"That large ring of iron,
Which lies on the ground,
With terrible teeth like a saw,"
Said Bobby, "the guard
Of our garden is found;
It keeps wicked robbers in awe.
"The warning without,
If they should set an nought,
This trap tears their legs--O! so sad!"
Said Billy to Tommy,
"So you'd have been caught,
A narrow escape you have had."
Cried Tommy, I'll mind
What my good mamma says,
And take the advice of a friend;
I never will steal
To the end of my days,
I've been a bad boy, but I'll mend."
Adelaide
Honesty
With honest heart go on your way,
Down to your burial sod,
And never for a moment stray
Beyond the path of God;
And everything along your way
In colours bright shall shine;
The water from the jug of clay
Shall taste like costly wine!
Holte
Thou Shalt Not Steal
On the goods that are not thine,
Little child, lay not a finger;
Round thy neighbour's better things
Let no wistful glances linger.
Pilfer not the smallest thing;
Touch it not, howe'er thou need it,
Though the owner have enough,
Though he know it not, nor need it.
Taste not the forbidden fruit,
Though resistance be a trial;
Grasping hand and roving eye,
Early teach them self-denial.
Upright heart and honest name
To the poorest are a treasure;
Better than ill-gotten wealth,
Better far than pomp and pleasure.
Poor and needy though thou art,
Gladly take what God has given;
With clean hands and humble heart,
Passing through this world to heaven.
The Thief
Why should I deprive my neighbour
Of his goods against his will?
Hands were meant for honest labour,
Not to plunder, nor to steal.
'Tis a foolish self-deceiving
By such tricks to hope for gain:
All that's ever got by thieving
Turns to sorrow, shame, and pain.
Oft we see the young beginner
Practice little pilfering ways,
Till grown up a hardened sinner,
Then the gallows ends his days.
Theft will not be always hidden,
Though we fancy none can spy;
When we take a thing forbidden,
God holds it with His eye.
Guard my heart, O God of heaven,
Lest is covet what's not mine;
Lest I take what is not given,
Guard my heart and hands from sin.
Watts
[Page 73--Stealing Land]
The Thieves' Ladder
The girls were helping in the house,
With bustle and with show,
And told the boys to go away,
And not disturb them so.
And the boys went whistling down the streets,
And looking in the shops
At tempting heaps of oranges,
And piles of sugar-drops.
"Here, Willie, to the grocer's run;
Be sharp, now--there's a man,
And bring me home a pound of plums
As quickly as you can!
"Don't touch a plum--be sure you don't;
To-morrow you shall eat."
"I won't." he said, and, like a top,
Went spinning down the street.
The grocer weigh'd them in his scales,
And there was one too much;
He took it out, and all was right,
The scale was to a touch.
He wrapp'd them up in whitey-brown,
And tied them with a string,
And put the money in the till,
As 'twere a common thing.
Young Willie watched, with greedy eyes,
As this affair went on.
The plums--they look'd so very nice!
He wouldn't take but _one_.
So going quick behind a post,
He tore the paper so
That he could take out two or three,
And nobody would know.
There was a little voice that said,
Close by, in Willie's heart,
"Don't tear the hole--don't take the plum--
Don't play a thievish part!"
The little voice--it spoke in vain!
He reach'd his mother's door;
She did not see the hole he'd made,
His trouble then was o'er.
And what a trifling thing it seem'd,
To take one single plum!
A little thing we hold between
Our finger and out thumb.
And yet upon that Christmas eve,
That period so brief,
Young Willie set his foot upon
"The ladder of the thief!"
And as he lay awake that night,
He heard his parents speak;
He heard distinctly what they said,
The blood rush'd to his cheek.
He lay and listn'd earnestly;
They might have found him out,
And he might get a flogging too,
'Twas that he thought about.
A guilty person cannot rest,
He always is in fear;
Not knowing what may happen next
To make his guilt appear.
So, when he heard his mother speak,
He rose up in his bed,
And did not lose a syllable
Of every word she said:--
"We have not any turnips, John,
I could not spare the pence;
But you can go and get us some
Through Farmer Turner's fence.
"There's nobody to see you now,
The folks are off the road;
The night looks dark and blustering,
And no one is abroad.
"It is not far--you'll soon be back--
I'll stand outside to hear;
The watchman now is off his track,
And won't be coming near."
The father he went softly out,
And down the lane he crept,
And stole some turnips from the field
Whilst honest people slept!
'Tis not the words that parents say,
It is their very deed;
Their children know the difference,
And follow where they lead.
How often, if their lives are good,
Their children's are the same;
Whilst, if they're thievish, drunken,
Their children come to shame!
Now, Willie laid him down in bed,
His conscience found relief;
"I'm not the only one," he said--
"My father is a thief!
"How foolish 'twas to be afraid
About a little plum!"
He pull'd the bed-clothes o'er his head,
And dream'd of feasts to come.
On Christmas-day they had the pies.
The turnips, and the beef;
And Willie's foot was firm upon
The ladder of the thief.
And ere the snow was on the plain,
And Christmas-day came round,
And boys were sliding, once again,
Upon the frozen ground,
He, step by step, had further gone
Upon that dreadful road
That brings a man to misery,
And takes him far from God.
He cheated with his marbles first,
And then at other play;
He pilfered any little thing
That came within his way.
His parents did not punish him;
He went from bad to worse,
Until he grew so confident,
He stole a lady's purse.
Then he was seized, and brought before
The city magistrate;