The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1876-09-01
The Harebell's Sermon.

Dear children, shall tell you about
a sermon which once heard? 1t was a
very warm day in June, and quite
wearied out with long walk, sat down
to rest beneath the shade of an old apple
tree which grew in beautiful garden.
The air was heavy with the fragrance
of the roses, while on the branch over
head little robin was warbling his story
of love to his pretty mate /; but when he
saw me, they both few away, leaving
the breeze to rock their leafy cradle and
lull their little ones to sleep. Then all
was very still, except the low droning of
the bee-when, suddenly, | heard a
small, thrill voice exclaim:
GWhat is the use of trying? / can
never be OF any use in the world. / wish
| were lilac-bud; for then the birds
would build their nests in my branches;
bu: as it is, l am of no Use and do not
seem to grow at all, and 1 can never,
never, climb up this wall"
/ looked in the direction of the voice,
and great was my astonishment to find
that it was the honeysuckle. l had
never heard flower speak before so you
may be sure l kept very still, lest l
might frighten it.
eyes" continued the honeysuckle,
''none of you know what it is to have to
climb wall ; and l am tired of trying,
for know shall never reach the top"
ooh p' said the little pansieT, as they
rustled their dresses of purple and gold,
''we would gladly exchange places with
you, for no one can see our fine clothes
down here, under the shadow Ofthis same
great lilac that you were talking about" >"
Then l heard the tinkling as of many
little bells, and, turning my head, be-
held, swaying in the breeze, a number
of harebells, dressed in their bodices of
blue. After the musical chime had
ceased, one of them stepped little in
advance of the rest, and hanging her
head for a moment, as if lost in thought,
said in sweet, silvery tones:
We are, all of us, of some use in the
world, and we should never give up try
us each place, and whether it be one
contented With our lot, and do the best
we can. Not of use, fair honeysuckle ?
Oh think of the bees-how they love to
creep into your flowers and gather the
sweet honey, and when well laden, they
fly to their cells, they hasten to return
that they may gather more. If only for
their sake, and the humming- /
should think you would be happy.
Tired of trying to gain the wall? Sup
pose now, little robin redbreast, when
building his nest, had said, Il will never,
never finish tit takes so long to gather
moss and hay-besides, of what use in
the world am l, a little bird? ? But
brides heart was brave. TRY again.
sang robin and patiently he wOve the
little nest, twig by twig, until, at last,
his tiny home was all complete. He
knows we love to listen to his song: so
he sings all day long, contented only If
he may bring gladness to some sad heart.
And his little enes--do you think II they
did not try little every day, that they
would ever learn to f1y2
"Then murmur not, sweet honey
suckle, and say that you are of no use
but rest Contented with your lot; do all
the good you cau-and if your every
little leafet will only say, 'Pll try sOon
you will find that you will have reached
the top of the wall.
"And now, little pansies," said the
harebell, "fine clothes will not bring
happiness unless you have a contented
spirit. Your smiling faces were not |
made for frOwns Strive to do good
you in your small corner and in mine
and let us never forget the little word,
Try"
The harebell paused as if almost !
frightened at having said so much, and,
while listened, hoping to hear it speak
again, felt the pressure of two soft arms
about my neck, and a merry voice ex-
"Wake up, aunt Nelly !" L
opened my eyes, and there was Charles,
my pet, who seldom allows me to rest
long in peace. Yes, had been asleep;
but the harebelps sermon taught me a
lesson and when, at bedtime, Charlie !
clambered into my lap, and begged for a
story, told him the story of the flowers;
and, at his request have written it out
for other little children to rcad.-N Y |
Observer.