20 STORY OF RALPH ROGERS. 322 Ralph Rogers had one of the best seats and the snuggest corner at every merrymaking. His droll remarks, his comical tales, and above all his laughing song, made him a welcome guest among the most light hearted of his neighbors. man appears to have a sort of oalloon over appearance of pleasantry, his small spark his head, fastened to a belt around his waist; ling eye seemed on the watch for something and in his hands something like wings. The comical, and his whole appearance was that balloon, I suppose, is to lift him up from the of a man on the eve of a fit of laughter. ground, and the wings to propel him along. Have I judged right, think you, about the picture?" But why may not a person sail in this way?" Oh, he may undoubtedly, but he must go, always, with the wind; never against it. Do you think he could propel a great balloon against the wind, by means of two little wings? Besides, if the balloon lifts him up, what is to pull him down, whenever he wishes to descend? Or is he to let the gas out of the balloon, when he wishes to descend, by means of a valve and a cord, as those who travel in balloons ..o? In the latter case, it would not be flying, but simply travelling in a balloon; and the traveller might as well get into a car, just as the aeronauts do, and lay aside his wings as useless. STORY OF RALPH ROGERS, OR THE END OF DROLLERY. THE following story, with a few variations, s copied from the London Weekly Visitor. We suppose it is a fiction, but it is nevertheless interesting. Mankind are created to laugh, no doubt, as well as to weep. The error of Ralph was that he carried his laughing to excess; which is very great folly. Ralph Rogers was an old man when I was a poy and though time had legibly writen three score years and ten on his brow, and only a few scattered gray hairs straggled down on each side of his head, yet was he as merry in his heart, and as full of laughter, as the youngest boy amongst us. So much accustomed was be to indulge in mirth, that his face had settled into an One winter's night old Ralph was seated in the arm chair in the chimney corner, at the house of Burton, the carpenter, where a few friends had assembled to feast on the occasion of his birth-day. The table had been cleared, the party had gathered round the fire; and a large brown jug, in the shape of a laughing old man, with a pipe in one hand and a glass in the other, was filled to the very brim with the carpenter's best ale. The black kitten was playing with a ball of white worsted under the table, the clock was ticking at the far corner of the room, and a print of the battle of the Boyne hung against the wall; but neither the print, the clock, nor the kitten were regarded, for every ear and every eye were directed towards Ralph Rogers, who was just about to begin his laughing song. Old Ralph had repeated this song, in the course of his life, twenty times over to the same party with undiminished interest, and on this occasion every one seemed as anx ious to hear it again as though they had never heard it before. In this song, the singer, at the end of every verse, had to break out into a fit of laughter. When Ralph Rogers began to sing, his face shone brightly; but whether it was occasioned by the ale which he had taken, or by the cheerful blaze of the fire, it would be hard to determine. Ralph sang with uncommon glee, and 323 RAMBLES OF RICHARD ROVER. managed the laughing part with uncommon success. At first he tittered, then burst out into a loud horse laugh; at another time he held his sides as though he was exhausted with his mirth, and all so naturally that the whole party was entertained beyond measure. At the moment, however, when Ralph was giving one of his loudest bursts of laughter, he stopped suddenly, his face grew deadly pale, his eyes appeared fixed in one direction, and it was clear that his whole frame was wrenched with agony. Whether the contortions with which he had exercised his body, in his riotous mirth, had brought on spasms, or whether the visitation sprang from any other cause I know not; but poor old Ralph Rogers was carried away from the place of festivity with little hope of his life, and his laughter was thus in a moment turned into mourning. Men value a horse for his swiftness, and a tree on account of the fruit which it bears; but when the horse has lost his swiftness he is valued no longer, and when the tree ceases to bear fruit, it is displaced to make room for another. It was the same with Ralph Rogers; his drollery had bound him to his friends, but when his mirth and laughter were exchanged for sighing and tears, no one sought his company. As the butterfly that revels in the beam is broken by the storm, so the buoyant spirit of Ralph Rogers broke down beneath the weight of his affliction. He could look back on a life of laughter, but that would not protect him from a death of sorrow. Had poor Rogers, instead of wasting his manhood in idle conceits, and unseemly merriment, read, with an humble and inquiring mind, the gospel of truth, and laid up stores of consolation for the hour of affliction; nay, had he, even at the eleventh 21 WE rose early in the morning, not because we were sufficiently rested, but because it was time to prepare for our journey. After eating a few mouthfuls of breakfast, we went to the "spring" and drank some water. I have not yet told you that almost all the water in this part of the United States is very bad; being muddy or half stagnant; and that what the people call springs are nothing but places in some brook or creek, where the water has motion enough to ren der it clear. We had taken a quantity of ginger with us to mix with our water, to prevent its injuring our stomachs; but if I were to travel in the same country again, I should never do so. I should drink of the water often, but very sparingly, rather than trust to any mixtures. When our company and their horses and mules had breakfasted, and every thing was in readiness, we resumed our journey. When we first began to move, I was so weak that I thought I could not possibly walk a mile. But having dragged myself along one mile I found myself no worse for it; so I per 22 FIRST CIRCULATING LIBRARY. 324 severed through the day, and we travelled the night would be useless, as it would only about twenty miles. be to repeat, again and again, what has already been told. We slept in the fields of woods five nights before we reached Columbia, and always by a fire composed of pine knots, logs, or limbs. Our course was through a flat country, half wilderness and half cultivated, with here and there a small cotton or rice field, and occasionally, at long intervals, a house. The houses were usually at a great distance from the road, sometimes quite out of sight; and we only knew when we were opposite to them by the gates and lanes which led towards them; or the barking of a pack of saucy dogs, who ran a quarter of a mile or half a mile, to meet us and fly at us. This day we witnessed something of slavery. We saw many colored people at work in the fields, who when viewed at a distance, had more the appearance of stumps than of men and women, except that now and then they moved a little. When about 15 miles from Charleston, and, we were told, near the place of President Jackson's nativity, we saw a great number of slaves employed in building a new road.-Did I say employed? They were hardly so. While threatened by their overseers, or smarting under a blow of the whip, they would throw a few shovel fulls of dirt or mud; but as soon as the overseer's back was turned towards them, they did little or nothing. Some of the women were preparing the dinner, at fires built by the road side. This consisted of rice;-say two thirds of a pint, after it was boiled, to each. The people of the country were very sickly. We scarcely found a house, whenever we inquired, but what contained one or more persons sick with bilious fever. Sometimes nearly a whole family was sick at once; and those who called themselves well, looked as yellow as if they were really sick. To describe our various encampments for In describing Charleston, I forgot to mention the oranges and limes which I saw growing in the gardens. They were not so large or so fine as those which come from warmer countries. A little way from Charleston I first saw the persimmon. It is a tree of middling size, and in shape has a considerable resemblance to the white walnut. It bears a kind of plum, a little larger than a horse plum. Until perfectly ripe, it is one of the most bitter things in the world; and it never gets ripe till frost comes. After one or two sharp frosts, the persimmons turn yellow, and become soft, and drop from the trees. They are now as sweet, almost, as a lump of sugar; and dissolve in the mouth almost as easily. Eaten in small quantities, they are, like most other sweet fruits, wholesome cough; but eaten in large quantities, they are apt to clog and derange the stomach. I ate them so freely as to make my stomach very acid; and I did not wholly get over the effects produced, in a week. Yours, &c. RICHARD ROVER. THE FIRST CIRCULATING LIBRARY is said to have been collected at Cesarea, by Pamphilus, a presbyter, about A. D. 300. Traces of this library remain, at Paris, and other places to this day. It consisted of 30,000 volumes. The books appear to have been chiefly religious, and were lent out to those who were religiously disposed. THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GOLDFINCH. WE were, at first, rather unwilling to show our young readers such a picture as this; for we are opposed to cages, especially to all cages for birds. We know very well how common it is, in many places, to keep birds in this way for the sake of their plumage or their songs; but this must not prevent us from speaking against the custom, and begging children not to imitate it, let those who will, set them an example. But why then show such a picture? Because along with the picture we can give a very good story. It is a German fable, paraphrased. A father brought two cages to his son, each containing a bird. One was the Goldfinch, and the other the Nightingale. These birds the little boy had never before seen. "Theodore," said the father, "look at these birds, and see if you can tell by their appearance which sings the most sweetly." Theodore gazed for a few moments, with delight, at the beautiful goldfinch, without hardly turning his eyes towards the homely nightingale. "Surely, my dear father," said he, "I can tell you, at once, which sings the best. It must be this one, with the golden 66 breast and velvet head. As for that brown, dirty little creature," said he, turning, at last, to the nightingale, "I am almost certain he cannot sing well." "You are mistaken," said the father "That dirty little thing, as you call it, is the nightingale, of whose sweet songs you have often read and heard. The more beautiful goldfinch is not skilled at all in music." "And now, Theodore," he added, "let me give you one piece of advice, which, if you retain it, will be of service to you, in your journey through the world. It is, not to trust too much in outward appearance. Beauty often proves but a mask to cover pride, conceit, and other had qualities; although the world are usually ready to do homage to it, as you were when you first saw the goldfinch. In seeking a friend or companion, look for modesty, talent, and virtues; and regard beauty as only of secondary consequence. If along with these qualities, you find beauty conjoined, so much the better But do not, by any means, make beauty your first object." |