Читать книгу Little Alfred - L. A. Holdich - Страница 8

Table of Contents

And these words, which I command thee this

day, shall be in thine heart: and thou shalt

teach them diligently unto thy children, and

shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine

house, and when thou walkest by the way, and

when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.

And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine

hand, and they shall be as frontlets between

thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon

the posts of thy house, and on thy gates.—Deut.

vi, 6-9.

Before little Alfred could read he knew a great deal of the Bible. He had a volume of Scripture plates, which he would turn over upon his father’s knee, and ask him the meaning of them. Alfred’s father loved the Bible, and he wanted his children to love it too; and therefore he took great delight in explaining it to them, and in telling them the beautiful stories which it contains.

There was the picture of Jacob dreaming his sweet dream about the ladder which reached to heaven, on which the angels of God came and went.

And there was brave Daniel in the lions’ den; because he would worship God when the king said he should not.

And there, too, was faithful Abraham, about to offer up to God “his son, his only son Isaac,” whom he loved.

All these, and many more delightful stories from the Bible, Alfred and Flora would repeat before they could read.

They both thought and talked a great deal about the Bible.

One day, in the summer time, Alfred and Flora went out together into the garden. They sat down upon a seat under the willow-tree. Little Flora took her doll in her arms when she went out; but when they returned to the house she did not have it with her.

Alfred said,

“Flora, where is your doll?”

“O, brother,” said Flora, “I left her lying on the grass.”

“Why did you leave her there?” inquired Alfred.

“I thought, brother, that maybe God would make a gourd grow over her head, like that which grew over Jonah.”

“But the sun is not as hot here as it is in Jonah’s country,” said Alfred. “Besides, she is not flesh and blood.”

Some time after this, when the weather had become cold, Alfred had a cousin, named Rupert, come to spend his vacation with him. Rupert was five years older than Alfred. He had not lived much at home with his parents. He had been almost always at a public school. Alfred had never yet been to school.

Rupert’s mother sent Flora a large doll. She said,

“O, thank you, cousin! I will name her Miriam.” “Who is Miriam?” said Rupert; for he had not heard of her.

“O, cousin,” said Flora, “Miriam was the dear little sister who watched Moses when he lay in the ark by the river’s side. And it was Miriam who played beautiful music on the timbrel, after the children of Israel had crossed the Red Sea.”

Rupert managed to amuse himself pretty well, for the first few days, with skating, and riding down hill on Alfred’s sled. But after a little time he took a cold, which confined him to the house, and he began to look around for something to read. Now there were quantities of very instructive, and very amusing books too, about the house; but there were not fairy tales enough to satisfy Rupert. So, in place of reading, he began to tell Alfred a good many of the wonderful things that he had heard or had read in his own books.

He said that there was once a man who had a wonderful salve, which, when put on a person’s eyes, would make him see all the silver, and gold, and diamonds, and other precious stones in the world.

“Is that true, Rupert?” asked Alfred.

“True? No, I do not suppose it is true.”

“Then I do not like it as well as that story papa told me the other day about the blind man, on whose eyes Jesus put the eye-salve; for that is true,” said Alfred.

“I will tell you another story, then,” said Rupert, laughing.

“A fairy once gave a cap to a man whose name was Fortunatus. Whenever Fortunatus wished to be anywhere, he had only to put the cap upon his head, and he was in the place where he wished to be, in less than a minute.”

“Is not that true either?” said Alfred.

“No; fairy tales are never true.”

“I do not think it is as pretty as the story of Elijah, which papa has often told me, nor any more wonderful either. Elijah was taken to heaven in a fiery chariot. There is a great deal about Elijah in the Bible.”

“Well,” said Rupert, “I think you pair my stories pretty well. See if you can match this.

“There was a poor woman who had a good little girl named May-Flower; and one day a fairy brought May-Flower a cow, and told her to milk it. She milked the cow, and it gave milk enough to fill all the dishes and pans in the house; and yet the milk still ran, so that there was no end of it. And that one cow made that woman the richest person on the island where she lived.”

Alfred’s mamma had been listening to Rupert’s stories. When he stopped, she smiled and said,

“I think Alfred can match that story.”

“How, mamma? O, I know! Elijah went once to a poor woman, and asked her for a piece of bread, when there was a great famine in the land. The woman had only ‘a handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse;’ but that handful of meal never grew any less, or the oil either, until God sent rain to put an end to the famine.”

“Yes, Alfred, that is a match to Rupert’s story: but do not you recollect another miracle, which is quite as wonderful as the story of the cow which gave so much milk?”

Alfred did not, at first, understand what his mamma wanted him to remember, until she said,

“What did the prophet Elisha do for the poor widow whose husband feared God, when they were going to make slaves of her two sons?”

“O, he made one pot of oil fill all the vessels that were in the house; and the woman sold the oil, and paid her debts with it, and then had enough money left for herself and her sons to live upon.”^[1]

1.See frontispiece.

“Well, those are nice stories,” said Rupert. “I did not know before that there were any such in the Bible.”

Then Alfred said,

“O, you haven’t heard half of them yet. Let me show you my picture of Samuel, and we will get mamma to tell us about him. I never get tired of hearing about little Samuel and his dear, good mother!”

Rupert looked as if he did not care about hearing the story; but he seemed pleased with the picture. It was the picture of a beautiful boy, kneeling before a very old man, with a long beard. The sun fell upon the boy’s curls, and made them appear of a golden color.

“Is not little Samuel pretty?” said Alfred. “And that is grandpa Eli. Does not he look good? O, do mamma tell me about him!”

And mamma told him the story; and Rupert seemed to get interested in it before she had finished. I give it to my little readers in the next chapter.