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STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. Continued from page 353, Vol. 2, New Series.
You have learned from your books, of course, that the fabulous goddess Flora is said to have once reigned over all the flowers; and it was in obedience to her command that a white rose was sent to bloom in a little shaded nook near the confines of an elegant garden.
The white rose was a timid flower, and listened without envy to the tales which the bees and butterflies brought her, about the luxury and style in which her gardenrelatives were reared, while she modestly hid her face behind the clustering foliage, when anyone chanced to pass.
The owner of the fine garden was one day roaming through the woods, and finding the rose in her concealment, resolved at once to transplant her to his own domain. He accordingly brought his gardener, who carefully uprooted the trembling flower, and carried her in triumph to the garden. Here she was planted in a favourable spot, and nurtured with unwearied care; but the timid rose drooped and pined for her home in the still woods, and for a long time all efforts to revive her seemed in vain. When at last she ventured to raise her languid head and look about her, she was dazzled and bewildered by all that she saw, and felt quite out of place amid the brilliant galaxy of beauties by whom she was surrounded.
Gradually, curiosity and admiration conquered her timidity, and she found much to amuse her in her new home; she smiled at the frivolity of the Londonpride, that seemed to turn her delicatelypainted leaves toward the butterflies, hoping to win their admiration; and looked lovingly upon the exquisite Rose Acacia, with whom she longed to claim companionship; while the many strange and splendid varieties of flowers charmed and surprised her. She felt how utterly insignificant she appeared in her simple white robe, and felt quite secure from observation among so many brilliant and graceful companions.
The simple rose was quite unconscious that all this while she was expanding into
new loveliness herself, and never imagined that she was considered by far the most choice and elegant inmate of the garden. By-and-by the butterflies swarmed about her, with flattering words; but she knew that they had honeyed whispers for every flower, and so their praises were valueless; then the zephyr murmured among her leaves, and begged some of her fragrance to carry as he said-to less favoured climes, where her presence was unknown; but she only bowed her head and granted his request; for he was proverbially inconstant. At length, the owner of the garden brought groups of visitors to the new flower; and when the modest rose heard the extravagant encomiums that were lavished upon her, a blush of ingenuous shame covered her face; and this was considered a crowning beauty. The poor rose was overwhelmed with the attentions she received, and frightened at finding herself the centre of attraction; while her more brilliant compeers bloomed and sighed in vain. The jealousy of the flowers was excited by their new rival, and they looked coldly upon her; the clematis used every artifice to supplant her; the China-pink regarded her with aversion; and the laurustinus murmured complainingly, “I die, if neglected."
The dislike of her companions rendered the rose very unhappy; she endeavoured to conciliate them by her sweetness, and resolved upon the first opportunity to petition the goddess Flora to restore her to her sequestered home.
The season of the Festival of Flora arrived; and all the flowers hastened to present themselves to their queen. Bashfully retiring behind the brilliant group that clustered about the sovereign, the timid rose lingered until all had been presented, and then slowly approached, her cheeks glowing with blushes, and her graceful head bowed to the ground.
"Come hither, timid one," said the queen; "we have heard much of your wondrous success, and the admiration you have awakened. How like you the new home you have found?”
"It is very beautiful," murmured the rose, "but I love it not; oh, send me back to my home in the silent woods again!"
The flowers exchanged glances of sur
prise at these words; for they marvelled why the rose should wish to leave a spot where she was surrounded with adulation
and praise. The queen shared their astonishment, and said, with a slight shade of displeasure in her tone,—
"Know you not it is our pleasure that you should dwell in the woods no longer? Ungrateful rose! you, who are our youngest and favourite child, why are you not happy, when surrounded by admiration and fed with praise?"
The rose was silent for a moment, and a tear of wounded feeling, which mortals would have called a dew-drop, fell upon her bosom; then in low and faltering tones she spoke :
"My queen," she said, "those praises, that admiration, make my unhappiness; in my secluded home the voice of flattery never reached me; the bees and butterflies told me only of the splendour of my garden-sisters, and the violets and wild daisies loved me, and were happy to bloom my shade. Now my sisters shun me; they think I prize the praises that are unworthily bestowed upon than I do their love; they turn coldly away and leave me to listen only to the flatteries I despise, and the inconstant sighings of Zephyr, who never sought me before. I do not care to be admired; let me return to my home in the woods again, and my sisters will love me once more."
"It may not be," said the queen, kindly; for the faltering voice and glowing cheek of the rose left no doubt of her sincerity. "It may not be it is your destiny to dwell in the garden, and it must be accomplished; but the modesty which now dyes your face in blushes shall never become sullied by pride or boldness; it shall remain for ever as a lasting charm, and a reproach to the envy and ill-nature of others."
"We envy her no longer," cried all the flowers with one voice; we will turn from her no more. She has our warmest love, and deserves it too, beyond all other flowers; for who else could have borne elevation and flattery, injustice and envy, with so much gentleness and humility?"
The grateful rose turned toward them with a beaming face, and the queen said, kindly smiling:
Are you satisfied now, little one, to
GENIUS NOT IMPAIRED BY AGE. "It is worthy of notice," says Disraeli, "that some of the most lively productions of several great writers have been the work of their maturest age. Johnson surpassed all his preceding labours in his last work, the popular Lives of the Poets.' The
Canterbury Tales' of Chaucer were effusions of his advanced age, and the congenial versions of Dryden were thrown out in the luxuriance of his latter days. Milton might have been classed among the minor poets, had he not lived old enough to become one of the most sublime. Let it be a source of consolation, if not of triumph, in a long studious life of true genius, to know that the ima gination may not decline with the vigour. of the frame which holds it. There has been no old age for many men of genius.”
"SHAME, shame!" cried a bumpkin orator at a parish meeting in the country, our Clergyman pays no rate."-"Yes he does," rejoined a wag. "What rate does he pay?" inquired the other. "Why, the Cu-rate."
AN honest Norfolk grazier, who had seen Richard III. performed one night, waited upon the manager, next morning, to say, that if the gentleman who wanted a horse on the previous evening held his mind, he had got an abundance of cattle in his meadows, and should be happy to deal with him.
A conceited fellow being asked by Mr. Sartorius, the celebrated animal painter, his opinion of a picture then on the easel, proceeded, after the manner of some other critics, to condemn what he didn't understand. "It is impossible to please everybody," said the artist. "True," replied the coxcomb; you know the old man and his ass?" "I do," said Mr. Sartorius; "I am the old man, and you are the ass."
A Cure for Love.-Take of spirit of resolution, 14 ounces; syrup of good advice, 12 ounces; spices of employment, 13 ounces; spirit of indifference, 1 ounce; oil of absence, 2 ounces; powder of disdain, 2 grains. Put these ingredients into a saucepan of sound reason, with a good quantity of the best heart's ease. Stir it up with a large quantity of time, and strain it through a long bag of patience. A small portion of this mixture to be taken frequently. Should this recipe ever fail, the patient may be considered incurable.
Recommended to the attention of M
A person of fair character (age or sex immaterial) at a salary of
£500 per annum,
Merely to mind their own business, and to increase to not more than
£1,000 per annum,
Only to leave other people's alone. Applications, with Testimonials, to be addressed to the Honorary Secretary of the "NEGLECTED HOME DEPARTMENT."
Advice Gratis to Wives.-There are three things which a good wife should resemble, and yet those three things she should not resemble. She should be like a town clock-keep time and regularity. She should not be like a town-clock -speak so loud that all the town may hear her. She should be like a snail-prudent and keep within her own house. She should not be like a snail-carry all she has upon her back. She should be like an echo-speak when spoken to. She should not be like an echo-determined ilways to have the last word.
THE throb of the heart is the voice of fate. VIRTUE is little wont to look back after her
Do the frowns of Fate startle you? Fear her smiles yet more.
THE test of an enjoyment is the remembrance which it leaves behind it.
THE sun produces life, or causes death, according as its rays fall-and so doth love.
FORGET not that human virtue is a polished steel, which is rusted by a breath.
ALAS! the flame of friendship shines but in the nights of life; for the sun of prosperity overpowers its rays.
LET humility be the virtue of the wise man, that he may appear like the fruit-burthened bough, pressed down by the weight of his own worth.
Joy makes us grieve for the brevity of life; sorrow causes us to be weary of its length; cares and industry can alone render it supportable.
SERENITY of mind is nothing worth, unless it has been earned: a man should be at once susceptible of passions, and able to subdue them.
days.-The fairest and most pleasing of the picMEMORY is like a picture-gallery of our past tures are those which immortalize the days of useful industry.
If you wish to make yourself agreeable to any-one, talk as much as you please about his or her affairs, and as little as possible about your
THOSE who are taken with the outward show of things, think that there is more beauty in persons who are trimmed, curled, and painted, than uncorrupt nature can give; as if beauty were merely the corruption of manners.
PUT away presumptuousness and pride: if they assail thy heart, think of the beginning and end of life. Narrow, indeed, are the cradle and the coffin in both we slumber alike helpless, today a germinating dust, to-morrow a crumbling germ.
NATURE has left every man a capacity of being agreeable, though not of shining in company; and there are a hundred men sufficiently qualified for both, who, by a very few faults, that they might correct in half an hour, are not so much as tolerable.
SOME cases are so nice, that a man cannot recommend himself without vanity, nor ask many times without uneasiness; but a kind proxy will do justice to his merits, and relieve his modesty, and effect his business, without trouble or blushing.-Coleridge.
FRIENDSHIP is the most sacred of all mora bonds. Trusts of confidence, though without any express stipulation or caution, are yet, in the very nature of them, as sacred as if they were guarded with a thousand articles or conditions.Sir R. L'Estrange.
COOKERY FOR CHILDREN.
SOME preparations of food proper for the young have already been given in the Family Friend; nevertheless, we are sure a chapter on this important subject, so generally neglected in cookery books, will be welcomed by the judicious.
It is of great consequence to fix the times of taking food, as well as to regulate the quantity given to a child. The mother should, personally, attend to these arrangements; it is her province.
There is great danger that an infant, under three years of age, will be over-fed, if it be left to the discretion of the nurse. These persons, generally, to stop the screaming of a child, whether it proceed from pain, or crossness, or repletion (as it often does)-they give it something to eat-often that which is very injurious, to tempt the appetite; if it will only eat and stop crying they do not care for the future inconvenience which this habit of indulgence may bring on the child and its mother.
Arrange, as early as possible, the regular times of giving food to your children, according to their age and constitution. Young infants require food every two hours when awake; after three months old, they may go three hours-then cautiously lengthen the time, as the child can bear it. But remember that all temperaments are not alike. Some of the same age may require more food than others. One rule, however, will apply to all-never give a child food to amuse and keep it quiet when it is not hungry, or to reward it for being good. You may as rationally hope to extinguish a fire by pouring on oil, as to cure a peevish temper or curb a violent one by pampering the appetite for luxuries in diet; and all the traits of goodness you thus seek to foster will, in the end, prove as deceptive as the mirage of green fields and cool lakes to the traveller in the hot sands of the desert.
"My children have very peculiar constitutions," said an anxious mother-"they are so subject to fevers! If they take the least cold, or even have a fall, they are sure to be attacked by fever." The family lived high, and those young children had a seat at the table, and were helped to the best and richest of everything. And their luncheon was cake and confectionary.
It was suggested to the mother that if she would adopt a different diet for those children, give them bread and milk morning and evening, and a plain dinner of bread, meat, and vegetables, their liability to fevers would be much lessened.
"My children do not love milk, and won't touch plain food "-was the answer, with a sort of triumphant smile, as though this cramming of her children with good things till the blood of the poor little creatures was almost in a state of inflammation, was a high credit to her good housekeeping.
But do not err on the other hand; and for fear your child should be over-fed, allow it insufficient nourishment. There is not in our country much reason to fear that such will be the case; the danger is, usually, on the side of excess; still we must not forget that the effects from a system of slow starvation are, if not so suddenly fatal as that of repletion, more terrible, because it reduces the intellectual as well as the physical
nature of man, till he is hardly equal to the
In many parts of civilized and Christian Europe, the mass of the people suffer from being over-worked and under-fed; few may die of absolute starvation, but their term of life is much shortened, and their moral and intellectual powers dwarfed or prostrated.
"Under an impoverished diet," says Dr. Combe, "the moral and intellectual capacity is deteriorated as certainly as the bodily"-and he adverts to the workhouse and charitable institution system of weak soups and low vegetable diet, and to the known facts that children brought up on such fare are usually feeble, puny, and diseased in body, and are at best but moderate in capacity.
The rational course seems to be, to feed infants, till about three years old, chiefly with milk and mild farinaceous vegetable preparations; a large portion of good bread, light, well baked, and cold, should be given them; after that period, to proportion their solid food to the amount of exercise they are able to take. Children who play abroad in the open air, will require more hearty nourishment, more meat, than those who are kent confined in the house or school-room. From the age of ten or twelve, to sixteen or eighteen, when the growth is most rapid and the exercises (of boys especially) most violent, a sufficiency of plain nourishing food should be given; there is little danger of their taking too much, if it be of the right kind and properly cooked. But do not allow them to eat hot bread, or use any kinds of stimulating drinks.
Food for a Young Infant.-Take of fresh cow's milk, one tablespoonfull, and mix with two tablespoonfulls of hot water; sweeten with loaf-sugar as much as may be agreeable. This quantity is sufficient for once feeding a new-born infant; and the same quantity may be given every two or three hours, not oftener-till the mother's breast affords the natural nourishment.
Thickened Milk for Infants when Six Months boil it, and add one tablespoonfull of flour. old. Take one pint of milk, one pint of water; Disit must be strained in gradually, and boiled hard solve the flour first in half a tea-cupful of water; twenty minutes. As the child grows older, one If properly made, it is the most nutritious, at the same time the most delicate food that can be given to young children.
Broth.-Made of lamb or chicken, with stale bread toasted, and broken in, is safe and healthy for the dinners of children, when first weaned.
Milk-Fresh from the cow, with a very little loaf-sugar, is good and safe food for young children. From three years old to seven, pure milk, into which is crumbled stale bread, is the best breakfast and supper for a child.
For a Child's Luncheon.-Good sweet butter, with stale bread, is one of the most nutritious, at the same time the most wholesome articles of food, that can be given children after they are weaned.
Milk Porridge.-Stir four tablespoonfulls of oatmeal, smoothly, into a quart of milk, then stir it quickly into a quart of boiling water, and boil
up a few minutes till it is thickened: sweeten with sugar.
Oatmeal, where it is found to agree with the stomach, is much better for children, being a fine opener as well as cleanser; fine flour in every shape is the reverse. Where biscuit-powder is in use, let it be made at home; this, at all events, will prevent them getting the sweepings of the baker's counters, boxes, and baskets. All the left bread in the nursery, hard ends of stale loaves, &c., ought to be dried in the oven or screen, and reduced to powder in the mortar.
Meats for Children.- Mutton, lamb, and poultry, are the best. Birds and the white meat of fowls, are the most delicate food of this kind that can be given. These meats should be slowly cooked, and no gravy, if made rich with butter, should be eaten by a young child. Never give children hard, tough, half worked meats, of any kind.
Vegetables for Children, Eggs, &c.-Their rice ought to be cooked in no more water than is necessary to swell it; their apples roasted, or stewed with no more water than is necessary to steam them; their vegetables so well cooked as to make them require little butter, and less digestion; their eggs boiled slow and soft. The boiling of their milk ought to be directed by the state of their bowels; if flatulent or bilious, a very little curry-powder may be given in their vegetables with good effect-such as turmeric and the warm seeds (not hot peppers) are particularly useful in such cases.
Potatoes and Peas.-Potatoes, particularly some kinds, are not easily digested by children; but this is easily remedied by mashing them very fine, and seasoning them with sugar and a little milk. When peas are dressed for children, let them be seasoned with mint and sugar, which will take off the flatulency. If they are old, let them be pulped, as the skins are perfectly indigestible by children's or weak stomachs. Never give them vegetables less stewed than would pulp through a colander.
Puddings and Pancakes for Children.-Sugar and egg, browned before the fire, or dropped as fritters into a hot frying-pan, without fat, will make them a nourishing meal.
Rice Pudding with Fruit.-In a pint of new milk put two large spoonfulls of rice well washed; then add two apples, pared and quartered, or a few currants or raisins. Simmer slowly till the rice is very soft, then add one egg, beaten, to bind it. Serve with cream and sugar.
To prepare Fruit for Children.-A far more wholesome way than in pies or puddings, is to put apples sliced, or plums, currants, gooseberries, &c., into a stone jar; and sprinkle among them as much sugar as necessary. Set the jar in an oven or on a hearth, with a tea-cupfull of water to prevent the fruit from burning; or put the jar into a saucepan of water till its contents be perfectly done. Slices of bread or some rice may be put into the jar, to eat with the fruit.
Rice and Apples.-Core as many nice apples as will fill the dish; boil them in light syrup; prepare a quarter of a pound of rice in milk, with
sugar, and salt; put some of the rice in the dish. and put in the apples, and fill up the intervals with rice, and bake it in the oven till it is a fine colour.
A nice Apple Cake for Children.-Grate some stale bread, and slice about double the quantity of apples; butter a mould, and line it with sugar paste, and strew in some crumbs, mixed with a little sugar; then lay in apples, with a few bits of butter over them, and so continue till the dish is full; cover it with crumbs, or prepared rice; season with cinnamon and sugar. Bake it well.
Fruits for Children,-That fruits are naturally healthy in their season, if rightly taken, no one,
who believes that the Creator is a kind and beneficient Being, can doubt. And yet the use of summer fruits appears often to cause most fatal diseases, especially in children. Why is
this? Because we do not conform to the natural laws in using this kind of diet. These laws are very simple and easy to understand. Let the fruit be ripe when you eat it; and eat when you require food.
Fruits that have seeds are much healthier than the stone fruits. But all fruits are better, for very young children, if baked or cooked in some manner, and eaten with bread. The French always eat bread with raw fruit.
Apples and winter pears are very excellent food for children, indeed, for almost any person in health; but best when eaten at breakfast or dinner. If taken late in the evening, fruit often proves injurious. The old saying that apples are gold in the morning, silver at noon, and lead at night, is pretty near the truth. Both apples and pears are often good and nutritious when baked or stewed, for those delicate constitutions that cannot bear raw fruit. Much of the fruit gathered when unripe, might be rendered fit for food by preserving in sugar.
Ripe Currants are excellent food for children. Mash the fruit, sprinkle with sugar, and with good bread let them eat of this fruit freely.
Blackberry Jam.-Gather the fruit in dry weather; allow half a pound of good brown sugar to every pound of fruit; boil the whole together gently for an hour, or till the blackberries are soft, stirring and mashing them well. Preserve it like any other jam, and it will be found very useful in families, particularly for children— -regulating their bowels, and enabling you to dispense with catharties. It may be spread on bread, or on puddings, instead of butter: and even when the blackberries are bought, it is cheaper than butter. In the country, every family should preserve, at least, half a peck of blackberries.
To make Senna and Manna palatable.-Take half an ounce, when mixed, senna and manna; put it in half a pint of boiling water; when the strength is abstracted, pour into the liquid from a quarter to half a pound of prunes and two large tablespoonfulls of W. I. molasses. Stew slowly until the liquid is nearly absorbed. When cold it can be eaten with bread and butter, without detecting the senna, and is excellent for costive children.