160

minutes. Two spirits—so it seemed—

were whispering to me, in turn; one
telling me to obey my mother, and the

other urging me to gratify my foolish

whim in the matter of the bonfire. One
made me feel that it was wrong to diso-
_ bey my mother ; that God would see me

kindle the fire, if no one else did, and

that I should offend him; that, on the
whole, my mother understood the mat-
ter better than I could possibly under-
stand it, and that she denied my request,
not for want of love to me, but because
she was afraid that I might, though un-
intentionally, do some mischief.

The other spirit used a very different
set of arguments. They were such as
these: that it was unjust for my mother
to deny me so small a favor; that the
fire would not do the least harm in the
world; that it would afford me a great
deal of amusement; that nobody would
see the fire, as my father and all the
hired men were out in the field at work ;
that as to its being a sin, the notion was
ridiculous; it was such a small affair,
that it was not worth thinking about ; so
that I had better go and kindle the fire
at once.

Alas! I closed my ears to the voice
that urged me to do right, and yielded
to the suggestions of the tempter. Like
a thief, I stole into the kitchen, when no
one saw me, took a coal from the hearth,
and ran with it to the place where I had
determined to make my bonfire. How
foolish, as well as wicked, was the course
I pursued! The ground, for a consider-
able distance in the rear of the barn, was
covered, to a greater or less depth, with
dry buckwheat straw.
T chose for my fire—a little fire it was to
be, you know, a very litle fire—was on

 

The spot which |

individuals blew

THE YOUTH’S CABINET.

 

the extreme edge of this straw, several
rods, I think it might have been, from the
barn. I gave myself credit for a great
deal of smartness, in selecting a spot so
far from the barn as not to endanger it in
the least ; though, but for this caution, I
might have had a much larger fire. I
collected a small heap of the straw, and
set fire to it.

It burned very readily. There was
no difficulty on that score. The bonfire
did not need any coaxing; the straw
was dry as tinder, and the wind was
very accommodating. I put on a little
more straw, a very little—it was only a
little bonfire that I wished for. It burn-
ed finely. My brightest hopes were re-
alized. By and by, it began to spread
over more ground. Aha! I thought, I
must puta stop to that. I was a cun-
ning boy—I had not: the least doubt of
that. I went to work, trying to stop
the progress of the fire; but the harder
I labored, the faster the flames spread.
The wind was blowing toward the barn,
too. ‘There was danger! When that
truth flashed upon my mind, I burst into
a flood of tears. What couldI do? It
took but a moment to make up my mind ;
and [ran with all my might to the house,
and told my mother the whole story.
She was greatly frightened, but she
went coolly enough to work.

We had two horns in the house, each
of which was used, at different times,
in calling my father and his men to din-
ner, when they were at work in the field.
One of these was a tin horn, made on
purpose for such a use, and the other
was a large sea-shell. My mother took
one of these horns, and gave the other
to Mary, the hired girl; when these two
a blast, which, accord-