Choice Readings for the Home Circle

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CHOICE READINGS FOR THE HOME CIRCLE

I know not where his islands lift
Their fronded palms in air,
I only know I can not drift
Beyond his love and care.
--_Whittier_

[Illustration: Home, Sweet Home]

Published By
M. A. Vroman
2123 24th Ave. N.
Nashville, Tenn.
Western Offices:
1650 San Jose Ave., San Francisco, Calif.
617 Chestnut St., Glendale, Calif.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1905,
by M. A. Vroman, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D.C. All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 1916, by Martin A. Vroman.

PREFACE.

The compiler of this volume has been gathering a large amount of moral
and religious reading, from which selections have been made, admitting
only those which may be read with propriety on the Sabbath.

This volume will be found to contain the best lessons for the family
circle, such as will inculcate principles of obedience to parents,
kindness and affection to brothers and sisters and youthful
associates, benevolence to the poor, and the requirements of the
gospel. These virtuous principles are illustrated by instances of
conformity to them, or departure from them, in such a manner as to
lead to their love and practice.

Great care has been taken in compiling this volume to avoid
introducing into it anything of a sectarian or denominational
character that might hinder its free circulation among any
denomination, or class of society, where there is a demand for moral
and religious literature. The illustrations were made especially for
this book, and are the result of much careful study.

The family circle can be instructed and impressed by high-toned moral
and religious lessons in no better way during a leisure hour of the
Sabbath, when not engaged in the solemn worship of God, than to listen
to one of their number who shall read from this precious volume. May
the blessing of God attend it to every home circle that shall give it
a welcome, is the prayer of the

PUBLISHER.

NOTE TO THE PUBLIC

This is the same book formerly known as "Sabbath Readings for the Home
Circle," _the subject matter remaining unchanged_.

We believe all who read this book will heartily accord with us in our
desire to see it placed in every home in the land, and will do their
part toward this good end.

The stories and poems it contains cover nearly all phases of life's
experiences. Each one presents lessons which can but tend to make the
reader better and nobler.

This decidedly valuable and interesting work now enters upon its sixth
edition, one hundred thirty thousand copies, with the demand rapidly
increasing.

Many have joined us in canvassing for it, and it has proved to be not
only a noble work and a service to the people, but it brings good
financial returns. Many students have worked their way through school
by using their vacations in this work.

The publisher's _name_ and _address_ is on the title page, and he will
see that _all orders_ are promptly and carefully _filled,_ and all
letters of inquiry cheerfully answered. Address nearest office.

Believing that the "Choice Readings for the Home Circle" will be
appreciated by all lovers of the true and beautiful, and that the book
will make for itself not only a place, but a warm welcome, in
thousands of homes during the coming year, it is cheerfully and
prayerfully sent on its mission by

THE PUBLISHER.

Contents

Affecting Scene in a Saloon 388
A Good Lesson Spoiled 192
A Kind Word 67
A Life Lesson 178
A Mountain Prayer-meeting 144
An Instructive Anecdote 214
Another Commandment 71
A Retired Merchant 90
A Rift in the Cloud 286

Be Just Before Generous 99
Benevolent Society 199
Bread Upon the Waters 280

Caught in the Quicksand 112
Christ Our Refuge 47
Company Manners 36

Effect of Novel Reading 95
Evening Prayer 342
Every Heart Has Its Own Sorrow 324

Grandmother's Room 230

Hard Times Conquered 185
Herrings for Nothing 275
How It Was Blotted Out 166

Live Within Your Means 127
Look to Your Thoughts 397
Lyman Dean's Testimonials 251

Make It Plain 83
"My House" and "Our House" 138

Nellie Alton's Mother 393
Never Indorse 170

Only a Husk 151
Out of the Wrong Pocket 131
Over the Crossing 304

Put Yourself in My Place 312

Richest Man in the Parish 296
Ruined at Home 157

Speak to Strangers 360
Story of School Life 221
Success if the Reward of Perseverance 291
Susie's Prayer 32

The Belle of the Ballroom 40
The Fence Story 310
The Happy New Year 346
The Indian's Revenge 11
The Infidel Captain 319
The Little Sisters 368
The Major's Cigar 363
The Premium 58
The Record 25
The Right Decision 29
The Scripture Quilt 354
The Ten Commandments 81
The Widow's Christmas 374
The Young Musician 244
Tom's Trial 50

Unforgotten Words 263

With a Will, Joe 385
"What Shall It Profit?" 115
Why He Didn't Smoke 217

Poems

A Christian Life 89
Alone 341
An Infinite Giver 137

Believe and Trust 39

Consolation 111

Did You Ever Think? 279
Do With Your Might 387

Forgive and Forget 318

Good-Bye--God Bless You! 165

Life That Lasts 213
Loving Words 362

Mother 28

"Once Again" 114
Our Neighbors 66
Our Record 373

Reaping 216

Song of the Rye 156
Stop and Look Around! 309

The Dark First 130
The Father Is Near 285
The Lord's Prayer 342
The Master's Hand 49
The Shadow of the Cross 46
The Way to Overcome 169
To-Day's Furrow 98

Walking With God 303
Watch Your Words 177
What Counts 57
What to Mind 367

Your Call 274

List of Illustrations

Home, Sweet Home Frontispiece
While He Slept His Enemy Came and Sowed Tares Among the Wheat 44
Christ Blessing Little Children 76
Christ the Good Shepherd 124
Paul at Athens 172
Pure Religion Is Visiting the Fatherless and Widows in 207
Their Affliction
Grandmother's Room 240
Come Unto Me 278
Christ in the Home of Mary and Martha 300
He Is Not Here; He Is Risen 336
God Be Merciful to Me a Sinner 354
Announcement to Shepherds 376

Pledges

Against the use of Liquor and Tobacco 391

THE SABBATH

Sabbaths, like way-marks, cheer the pilgrim's path,
His progress mark, and keep his rest in view.
In life's bleak winter, they are pleasant days,
Short foretaste of the long, long spring to come.
To every new-born soul, each hallowed morn
Seems like the first, when everything was new.
Time seems an angel come afresh from heaven,
His pinions shedding fragrance as he flies,
And his bright hour-glass running sands of gold.
--_Carlos Wilcox._

THE INDIAN'S REVENGE

The beautiful precept, "Do unto others as you would that they should
do unto you," is drawn from our Lord's sermon on the mount, and should
be observed by all professing Christians. But unless we are truly his
children, we can never observe this great command as we ought.

History records the fact that the Roman emperor Severus was so much
struck with the moral beauty and purity of this sentiment, that he
ordered the "Golden Rule," to be inscribed upon the public buildings
erected by him. Many facts may be stated, by which untutored heathen
and savage tribes in their conduct have put to shame many of those
calling themselves Christians, who have indeed the form of godliness,
but by their words and actions deny the power of it. One such fact we
here relate.

Many years ago, on the outskirts of one of our distant new
settlements, was a small but neat and pretty cottage, or homestead,
which belonged to an industrious young farmer. He had, when quite a
lad, left his native England, and sought a home and fortune among his
American brethren. It was a sweet and quiet place; the cottage was
built upon a gently rising ground, which sloped toward a sparkling
rivulet, that turned a large sawmill situated a little lower down the
stream. The garden was well stocked with fruit-trees and vegetables,
among which the magnificent pumpkins were already conspicuous, though
as yet they were wanting in the golden hue which adorns them in
autumn. On the hillside was an orchard, facing the south, filled with
peach and cherry-trees, the latter now richly laden with their crimson
fruit. In that direction also extended the larger portion of the farm,
now in a high state of cultivation, bearing heavy crops of grass, and
Indian corn just coming into ear. On the north and east, the cottage
was sheltered by extensive pine woods, beyond which were fine
hunting-grounds, where the settlers, when their harvests were housed,
frequently resorted in large numbers to lay in a stock of dried
venison for winter use.

At that time the understanding between the whites and the Indians, was
not good; and they were then far more numerous than they are at the
present time, and more feared. It was not often, however, that they
came into the neighborhood of the cottage which has been described,
though on one or two occasions a few Minateree Indians had been seen
on the outskirts of the pine forests, but had committed no outrages,
as that tribe was friendly with the white men.

It was a lovely evening in June. The sun had set, though the heavens
still glowed with those exquisite and radiant tints which the writer,
when a child, used to imagine were vouchsafed to mortals to show them
something while yet on earth, of the glories of the New Jerusalem. The
moon shed her silvery light all around, distinctly revealing every
feature of the beautiful scene which has been described, and showed
the tall, muscular figure of William Sullivan, who was seated upon the
door-steps, busily employed in preparing his scythes for the coming
hay season. He was a good-looking young fellow, with a sunburnt, open
countenance; but though kind-hearted in the main, he was filled with
prejudices, acquired when in England, against Americans in general,
and the North American Indians in particular. As a boy he had been
carefully instructed by his mother, and had received more education
than was common in those days; but of the sweet precepts of the gospel
he was as practically ignorant as if he had never heard them, and in
all respects was so thoroughly an Englishman, that he looked with
contempt on all who could not boast of belonging to his own favored
country. The Indians he especially despised and detested as heathenish
creatures, forgetful of the fact that he who has been blessed with
opportunities and privileges, and yet has abused them, is in as bad a
case, and more guilty in the sight of God, than these ignorant
children of the wilds.

So intent was he upon his work, that he heeded not the approach of a
tall Indian, accoutred for a hunting excursion, until the words:--

"Will you give an unfortunate hunter some supper, and a lodging for
the night?" in a tone of supplication, met his ear.

The young farmer raised his head; a look of contempt curling the
corners of his mouth, and an angry gleam darting from his eyes, as he
replied in a tone as uncourteous as his words:--

"Heathen Indian dog, you shall have nothing here; begone!"

The Indian turned away; then again facing young Sullivan, he said in a
pleading voice:--

"But I am very hungry, for it is very long since I have eaten; give
only a crust of bread and a bone to strengthen me for the remainder of
my journey."

"Get you gone, heathen hound," said the farmer; "I have nothing for
you."

A struggle seemed to rend the breast of the Indian hunter, as though
pride and want were contending for the mastery; but the latter
prevailed, and in a faint voice he said:--

"Give me but a cup of cold water, for I am very faint."

This appeal was no more successful than the others. With abuse he was
told to drink of the river which flowed some distance off. This was
all that he could obtain from one who called himself a Christian, but
who allowed prejudice and obstinacy to steel his heart--which to one
of his own nation would have opened at once--to the sufferings of his
redskinned brother.

With a proud yet mournful air the Indian turned away, and slowly
proceeded in the direction of the little river. The weak steps of the
native showed plainly that his need was urgent; indeed he must have
been reduced to the last extremity, ere the haughty Indian would have
asked again and again for that which had been once refused.

Happily his supplicating appeal was heard by the farmer's wife. Rare
indeed is it that the heart of woman is steeled to the cry of
suffering humanity; even in the savage wilds of central Africa, the
enterprising and unfortunate Mungo Park was over and over again
rescued from almost certain death by the kind and generous care of
those females whose husbands and brothers thirsted for his blood.

The farmer's wife, Mary Sullivan, heard the whole as she sat hushing
her infant to rest; and from the open casement she watched the poor
Indian until she saw his form sink, apparently exhausted, to the
ground, at no great distance from her dwelling. Perceiving that her
husband had finished his work, and was slowly bending his steps toward
the stables with downcast eyes--for it must be confessed he did not
feel very comfortable--she left the house, and was soon at the poor
Indian's side, with a pitcher of milk in her hand, and a napkin, in
which was a plentiful meal of bread and roasted kid, with a little
parched corn as well.

"Will my red brother drink some milk?" said Mary, bending over the
fallen Indian; and as he arose to comply with her invitation, she
untied the napkin and bade him eat and be refreshed.

When he had finished, the Indian knelt at her feet, his eyes beamed
with gratitude, then in his soft tone, he said: "Carcoochee protect
the white dove from the pounces of the eagle; for her sake the
unfledged young shall be safe in its nest, and her red brother will
not seek to be revenged."

Drawing a bunch of heron's feathers from his bosom, he selected the
longest, and giving it to Mary Sullivan, said: "When the white dove's
mate flies over the Indian's hunting-grounds, bid him wear this on his
head."

He then turned away; and gliding into the woods, was soon lost to
view.

The summer passed away; harvest had come and gone; the wheat and
maize, or Indian corn, was safely stored in the yard; the golden
pumpkins were gathered into their winter quarters, and the forests
glowed with the rich and varied tints of autumn. Preparations now
began to be made for a hunting excursion, and William Sullivan was
included in the number who were going to try their fortune on the
hunting-grounds beyond the river and the pine forests. He was bold,
active, and expert in the use of his rifle and woodman's hatchet, and
hitherto had always hailed the approach of this season with peculiar
enjoyment, and no fears respecting the not unusual attacks of the
Indians, who frequently waylaid such parties in other and not very
distant places, had troubled him.

But now, as the time of their departure drew near, strange misgivings
relative to his safety filled his mind, and his imagination was
haunted by the form of the Indian whom in the preceding summer he had
so harshly treated. On the eve of the day on which they were to start,
he made known his anxiety to his gentle wife, confessing at the same
time that his conscience had never ceased to reproach him for his
unkind behavior. He added, that since then all that he had learned in
his youth from his mother upon our duty to our neighbors had been
continually in his mind; thus increasing the burden of self-reproach,
by reminding him that his conduct was displeasing in the sight of God,
as well as cruel toward a suffering brother. Mary Sullivan heard her
husband in silence. When he had done, she laid her hand in his,
looking up into his face with a smile, which was yet not quite free
from anxiety, and then she told him what she had done when the Indian
fell down exhausted upon the ground, confessing at the same time that
she had kept this to herself, fearing his displeasure, after hearing
him refuse any aid. Going to a closet, she took out the beautiful
heron's feather, repeating at the same time the parting words of the
Indian, and arguing from them that her husband might go without fear.

"Nay," said Sullivan, "these Indians never forgive an injury."

"Neither do they ever forget a kindness," added Mary. "I will sew this
feather in your hunting-cap, and then trust you, my own dear husband,
to God's keeping; but though I know he could take care of you without
it, yet I remember my dear father used to say that we were never to
neglect the use of all lawful means for our safety. His maxim was,
'Trust like a child, but work like a man'; for we must help ourselves
if we hope to succeed, and not expect miracles to be wrought on our
behalf, while we quietly fold our arms and do nothing." "Dear
William," she added, after a pause, "now that my father is dead and
gone, I think much more of what he used to say than when he was with
me; and I fear that we are altogether wrong in the way we are going
on, and I feel that if we were treated as we deserve, God would forget
us, and leave us to ourselves, because we have so forgotten him."

The tears were in Mary's eyes as she spoke; she was the only daughter
of a pious English sailor, and in early girlhood had given promise of
becoming all that a religious parent could desire. But her piety was
then more of the head than of the heart; it could not withstand the
trial of the love professed for her by Sullivan, who was anything but
a serious character, and like "the morning cloud and the early dew,"
her profession of religion vanished away, and as his wife she lost her
relish for that in which she once had taken such delight. She was very
happy in appearance, yet there was a sting in all her pleasures, and
that was the craving of a spirit disquieted and restless from the
secret though ever-present conviction that she had sinned in departing
from the living God. By degrees these impressions deepened; the Spirit
of grace was at work within, and day after day was bringing to her
memory the truths she had heard in childhood and was leading her back
from her wanderings by a way which she knew not. A long conversation
followed; and that night saw the young couple kneeling for the first
time in prayer at domestic worship.

The morning that witnessed the departure of the hunters was one of
surpassing beauty. No cloud was to be seen upon the brow of William
Sullivan. The bright beams of the early sun seemed to have dissipated
the fears which had haunted him on the previous evening, and it
required an earnest entreaty on the part of his wife to prevent his
removing the feather from his cap. She held his hand while she
whispered in his ear, and a slight quiver agitated his lips as he
said, "Well, Mary dear, if you really think this feather will protect
me from the redskins, for your sake I will let it remain." William
then put on his cap, shouldered his rifle, and the hunters were soon
on their way seeking for game.

The day wore away as is usual with people on such excursions. Many
animals were killed, and at night the hunters took shelter in the cave
of a bear, which one of the party was fortunate enough to shoot, as he
came at sunset toward the bank of the river. His flesh furnished them
with some excellent steaks for supper, and his skin spread upon a bed
of leaves pillowed their heads through a long November night.

With the first dawn of morning, the hunters left their rude shelter
and resumed the chase. William, in consequence of following a fawn too
ardently, separated from his companions, and in trying to rejoin them
became bewildered. Hour after hour he sought in vain for some mark by
which he might thread the intricacy of the forest, the trees of which
were so thick that it was but seldom that he could catch a glimpse of
the sun; and not being much accustomed to the woodman's life, he could
not find his way as one of them would have done, by noticing which
side of the trees was most covered with moss or lichen. Several times
he started in alarm, for he fancied that he could see the glancing
eyeballs of some lurking Indian, and he often raised his gun to his
shoulder, prepared to sell his life as dearly as he could.

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