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CARL, THE YOUNG EMIGRANT.
companions kept him from musing long on any one thing. Grave as he might be, it was impossible for him not to turn his head and smile, when he saw the cheery faces and high gambols of these healthy, happy fellows. Now they are trying to bury the Newfoundland dog in new hay, from which he rises like an animated haycock. Now they are repeating the experiment with Bob Bolton, the biggest and best-humoured of the set. Now they turn somersets down the green side of the quarry; and now they are off, like a herd of antelopes, in a race to the foot of the green hill, where a silver rivulet marks the lowest spot in the extensive field.
Timorous parents are sometimes greatly afraid of bones being broken or health being endangered in such sports. But they are ignorant of the safeguards of Providence, and occasionally interfere to the injury of their children. It is wonderful how rare such evils are, among tens of thousands of instances. I think I have observed that in many families the eldest sons are the most feeble and fearful:
when the little flock increases, the sports become more gay, and the adventure more bold. And home-sports, such as these, when unaccompanied by ill tempers and ill words, are good and laudable, even though their noise should sometimes jar on the ear of the nervous. Unless we would rear a generation of effeminate creatures, we must put up with some noise and some soiling and tearing of raiment.
Barry was almost disposed to join in the sport; though he half-doubted whether his dignity as an usher might not suffer by the condescension. The scruple was unnecessary: but Barry had not reached the point in his experience where this is found out.
When the sun began to draw towards his setting, he rang his little bell, and was instantly surrounded by the whole company, at least twenty in number. There they sat or stood around him, red and panting and covered with healthful moisture. What sight on earth is lovelier or more hopefal ? Who is happier than a loving teacher ? Barry felt this, and
CARL, THE YOUNG EMIGRANT.
gazed on them with a new and swelling emotion. What hope, what joy, what confidence in these countenances! Even two or three lads, who had been sullen and refractory in the schoolroom, were here contented and docile, and clung to him, with a readiness to do whatever he should order.
“Look yonder, boys,” said Barry, rising as he spoke, and stretching his hand toward the west. All the boys turned in the same direction, and their faces were illuminated with the blush of the setting sun, which at that instant was just sinking among a clump of distant trees.
Oh, how grand! Oh, how beautiful!" burst from several. Indeed, the sight was glorious.
“What do you think, boys?” said Barry. “ Can you see any thing like that in a show? Can any painting, or any panorama equal that?”
Various exclamations were uttered by the more animated boys, for the spectacle was uncommonly fine, even in a land where we have to bless God for so many brilliant sunsets. Little Carl was silent. His hands were crossed
upon his breast, and his blue eye drank in the lights of the west, as if none had been present.
“ Carl,” said Barry, turning to the little foreigner, “ that is what you call, in Germany, the Abendroth, and it is a beautiful word.”_“Yes, sir,” said Carl, and the tears filled his eyes : he wiped them away with his little checked handkerchief. The boys were affected: they knew he was thinking of “Bingen on the Rhine.”
Burnham, who led the school, turned to Mack and said, in a low voice, “Mack, there's something in the Dutchman, after all; let's not quiz him so hard !”
A distant bugle-note broke up their sentimental gazing; it was the signal for the evening worship. Barry led the way to the school, and the boys fell into an irregular procession. It was plain they had received benefit by even this momentary contemplation of a great object in nature. Why should it not be a part of education to draw forth the admiration of youth
CARL, THE YOUNG EMIGRANT.
towards such wonders, and to graft upon them the needful lessons ?
Dr. Newman was not the man to neglect such means of usefulness. He had been gazing on the same western sky, as he sat in the portico, holding the hand of his motherless daughter. Both were in mourning, but both seemed revived by a transient gleam from the sinking luminary. As Dr. Newman led the way into the little chapel, the lingering rays of the sunset were just gilding its eastern wall. He rose in the pulpit, and read the beautiful 104th Psalm. At the 19th verse, the youthful worshippers all felt, at least for the moment, the meaning of those words, The sun knoweth his going down. They were therefore very attentive, when the Doctor began his little address :
“My dear children,” said he, “I dare say you have been looking at the beautiful sunset. It is good to do so. Those lovely curtains of coloured clouds are hung there to attract our eye. They are pictures in the book of nature, from God's own hand.