Christian Nation Vol. 18 1893 - Rparchives.org

April 26, 1893.A FAMILY PAPEE.. ,,. 4 I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT.^.:s». AND WHO WILL DARE's*=TO CHIDE ME FORLOVINQTHE OLD ARWI CHAIR.LITTLE FOXES.BY M B B.ELL,.Jack was quite out of patience with all theworld and everything in it. The day beforewhen he wanted to take a walk, the snow andrain and sleet had fallen, until every bit of thegarden, sidewalk, and street was covered, andhe was not a bit pleased. The cold snap hadfrozen every spot of moisture, but a little sunshinehad melted some of the ice, and senttrickling streams over the sidewalks; but bythe use of salt and a little pounding of the spadehe had after weeks of discomfort the pleasureof clean stones, and he felt happy when he wentto bed.But in the morning there was the horrid stuffall back again, and that meant more snow toshovel, more salt to be sprinkled, and less timeto play. Being dressed, eating breakfast andgetting to school come so close toeether (thehour spent on them really seemed the shortestin the whole day), that Jack had very littletime to fret about snow, and while he pulled onhis big boots he was thinking what jolly fun itwould be to pound Will Stocum with snowballs,in return for a like favor from him wnen thelast snow fell.But by noon the warm February sun hadmelted snow and clay into a brown mush thatwas very disagreeable. At the crossings itwas worst, and the spots where it looked firmand solid it was only necessary to put a-footupon it, when swish, a shower bath of muddywater flew all over tiim, some of it even goinginto his eyes. How provoked he was. Fortunatelyhis books were in his desk at school, forhe did not bring them home at noon hour, buthis clothes were a sight to behold, and it was afunny sight too ; but he did not laugh at all,he was too thoroughly angry.He had every thing on that was fresh anddry, and so he stood by tne window looking out,his face, quite nd of the muddy spots, wouldhave been pleasant to look at if it had not beenfor an angry scowl that disfigured it. Nothingis more attractive than the face of a happy boywho looks as if he meant every word that hesaid, as Jack did, but to see the happinesscrowded off by temper is a worse sight than tosee the rain clouds hide the sunshine.His mother was watching him, but she didnot say anything, for she always waited for himto speak. To her astonishment he began"By "" Take care Jack, take care," she interruptedquickly.Jack asked as quickly" What is it. mother?"" A little fox, dear, that is all.""Fox? A little fox—where is it asked Jack,as he looked out of the window. " A fox! Ido not see it." Anything, books or adventure.that told of the effects of a gun, were dear tothe boy heart, so he said still more excitedly," Where is the fox, mother?"In your mouth, my son," was the quiet reply." In my mouth? I beg pardon if you thinkI am rude, but that seems quite too ridiculous,you know," Jack said."So?"" Yes, mother, it seems so to me. Will youexplain your meaning? Foxes, you know, aretbe hunter's prey, and I have just ten minutesbefore time for school, to hear about them.Go on, please.""Hand me that Bible from the shelf. Jack."Jack brought the Bible, and his motheropened it to this verse : "Take us the foxes,thelittle foxes that spoil the vines ; for ourvines have tender grapes."" 1 never knew before that there was such averse, mother."" Perhaps no", dear boy, but when you commencedyour sentence I thought of it at once.It seems to me, Jack, that a fox who will stealis like a word, or the prefix of a word, thatsteals the purity of my boy's speech. Thetender erapes stand to me as a type of the innocentgood that is in you; the God that madeyou, made you also as holy as the angels; butwhen the smut of evil touches you it leaves itsTake tbe common word "titmouse," a chickadeeThe firstsyllable means something small,mark upon you that is like the trail of a serpent. and the two together ought to mean a littleLife is not the whole of it, Jack; after life comesmouse. But the word was formerly "titmose,"death, and after death the judgment; and Icannot help feeling that to be quite pure weought to be very careful that no little foxes canreproach us as memory calls them up, and thatwhen the Husband-man looks for the tendergrapes ihey ought to be worthy of his use.""Do you know everything, mother?" askedJack."O no, dear boy; I wish I knew even half ofeverything. Why do you ask?""Becauae you always bring up such goodideas. Now I would never have known of thefoxes if it had not been for you.""Perhaps not. But foxes are always in hidinguntil they are sought for. I am glad thatwe have learned this little lesson, it may helpus to be more careful ""1 must say that as the gun was pointed atme that your aim was good, for you caught the•fox very easily," said Jack.His mother laughed. "I did not expect topreach so long a sermon to-day; however, youhave still four minutes to reach school ; thatwill be sufficient time, will it not?""O yes—" began Jack. Then he opened thewindow and whistled, and a sleigh stopped atthe curb-stone; "Foxes, real foxes are sly, arethey not, mother?""Yes, Jack.""And I mean to be a real fox, for I will besly enough to make Al. Vandyke take me toschool. Goodbye mammy; no more of yoursort of little foxes for me," Jack called out ashe leaped into the sleigh to escape the slushysnow in the gutter.And the last his mother saw of him he wasshouting a hurrah that he was riding to schoollike a lord while the other boys were wadingthrough the running rivers of brown water.And. as any loving mother would, she followedhim with a word of prayer that he mightalways be as teachable as he was then, and aslittle acquainted with the " foxes that spoil thetender grapes."HELPFUL CORNER.[Address all communications for thia departmentto Eev. 'Wm. Littlejohn, editor, Mediapolis, Iowa. ]I. Study op Woeds.The following clipping gives us an insightinto the changes wrought in the meaning ofsome words.How Words Change.Language is the result of ages of growth.Word after word has been added to the previousstock—some of them new inventions, as newthings have been discovered or brought intouse, others but perversions or variations ofterms already familiar. The process of wordmaaingand word-transformation has been carriedon, not by scholars only, but by the commonpeople, with the natural result that manywords have curious histories. As a writer inChamber's Journal remarks, " People musthave words which they can understand and recall,"aud they are not scrupulous as to themeans by which they obtain them."mose" meaning a little bird. Somebody—there is no knowing who—changed the nameto "titmouse." The new form tickled the popularear; by and by it was generally accepted;then the old and tiue foim went out of use altogether,aud the plural, which ought to be"tilmouses," became "titmice."Long ago when a certain article made of sturgeons'bladders came into use in England, itwas known by its Dutch name "huizenblas,"that is, "sturgeon-bladder," The term was ameaningless one to English ears, and by somemeans or other "was transformed into the wordwhich we all know, "isinglass." The changewas precisely like that which in some quartershas turned "asparagus" into "sparrow-grass."In the same manner the old word "berfry,"which means simply a watch-tower, was transformedinto "belfry." It became the custom tohang bells in such towers, and by common consenta change of spelling followed.What is the derivation of the word "steelyard"?Most readers would reply without hesitationthat it must have been invented as thename of a certain familiar instrument forweighing, an instrument made of steel, andabout three feet in length.In point of fact, however, the word meant inthe beginning nothing but the yard, or court,in London, where the continental traders soldtheir steel. In the yard, of course, there wassome kind of balance for weighing the metal—a steel-yard balance.Language is full of such cases. " Blindfold"has nothing to do with the act of foldingsomething over the eyes, but is " blindfelled,"or struck blind. " Buttery" has no connectionwith butter, but is, or was, a " bottlery," a placefor bottles.A " blunderbuss" was not an awkward or inefficientweapon, but on the contrary was soterrible as to be called a "donderbus," that isto say, a " thunderbox" or " thunder-barrel."A PITIABLE SIGHTThe advance in the art of war is happily—orit is to see an infant suffering from lack of proper unhappily—typified by the fact that a weaponfood. It 18 entirely nnneceesary, as a reliable food once so terrible, has become an object of ridicule.Will the world ever find our presentoan always be abtaiued; we refer to the Gail BordenEagle Brand Condensed MUk, Sold by Grocers and iron-clads and mortars nothing but things toDruggist.laugh at?