[Pg64][Pg65][Pg66]The Basket of Plumbs[1]A poor girl, whose face was pale and sickly, and who led a little ragged child by the hand, came up one day to the door of a large house, and, seeing a boy standing there, said to him, 'Do, pray, sir, ask your mamma to buy these plumbs. There are four dozen in my basket.' George Loft took the basket to his mother, who counted the plumbs, and finding them right in number and that they were sound, good fruit, sent out to know the price.The girl asking more than Mrs. Loft thought they were worth, she put the plumbs again into the basket, and told George to carry them back, and say it did not suit her to buy them.Now these plumbs were fresh picked from the tree; they had a fine bloom on them, and were very tempting to the eye. George loved plumbs above all other fruit, and he walked very slowly from the parlour with his eyes fixed on the basket. The longer he looked, the more he wished to taste them. One plumb, he thought, would not be missed; and as he put his hand in to take that one, two others lay close under his fingers. It was as easy to take three as one, and the three plumbs were taken and put into his pocket. When he reached the hall door and gave the basket back to the girl,his face was as red as a flame of fire, but she did not notice it, nor thought of counting her plumbs; for how could she suppose any one inthathouse would be so mean as to take fromherlittle store!It chanced that as the girl turned from the door, Mrs. Loft came to the parlour window, and, seeing the girl look so ill, she felt sorry she had not bought the plumbs. Therefore, throwing up the sash, she asked the cause of her sickly looks. The girl then told a sad story of distress: she had been ill of a fever; her parents had caught the disease of her, and were now very bad and not able to work for the support of their children. In the little garden of their cottage a plumb-tree grew, and she had picked the ripe plumbs and had come out to sell them that she might buyphysic for her parents and food for herself and her hungry little sister. Mrs. Loft paid the girl the full price for her plumbs, gave her wine to carry to her sick parents and food for herself and the child, and bade her return the next day for more.Soon after the grateful girl had left the house, Mrs. Loft, placing the fruit in her dessert-baskets, found that, instead of forty-eight, there were only forty-five plumbs; and, far from thinking her son had been guilty of the theft, she laid the blame on the girl, who she now thought had tried to impose on her. It was not the loss of three plumbs that Mrs. Loft cared for, but the want of an honest mind that gave her offence. She had meant to be a friend to the poor girl, but now she began to doubt the truth of herstory; for Mrs. Loft thought if she could impose in one thing she might also in others. Deeming the girl therefore no longer worthy of her kindness, she gave orders for her to be sent away when she came on the morrow.George had heard the whole: first, the tale of distress, and then his mother's censure of the blameless girl. He had not only taken from a poor, wretched creature a part of her little all, but had been the means of bringing a foul reproach upon her, while her parents, who might have been saved from greater distress by his mother's bounty, would now be left helpless, in sickness and in sorrow. All this cruel mischief he had done for the sake of eating three plumbs—he, too, who had never wanted food, clothes, nor anything a child needdesire to possess. He felt the bitter pangs of guilt, and the fruit, whose shape and bloom had looked so tempting, was now as hateful as poison to the sight of George.There was still a way left to make some amends: namely, to confess his fault to his mother. It did require some courage to do this; and when a boy throws away his sense of honour, no wonder his courage should forsake him. George could not resolve to disclose a crime to his mother, which he thought she never would find out. The first day in each week he had sixpence given him for pocket-money, and he laid a plan to save that money, and to bestow it for a month to come on the girl. This, he thought, was doing even more than justice: for as her three plumbs were only worth one penny, he should by thismeans give her two shillings for them, and save his own credit with his mamma. He wished with all his heart he had never touched the plumbs; but as he had done it, it seemed to him less painful to leave the poor girl to suffer the blame, than to accuse himself.With this plan of further deceit in his mind, George went to dinner; but before the cloth was taken from the table he had reason enough to repent of his double error. Mrs. Loft, in paying for the plumbs, had given a number of half-pence, among which, unseen by her, a shilling had slipped. When the poor girl reached the cottage she found the shilling, and lost not a moment in coming back to restore it to its right owner. Mrs. Loft well knew that she who could be thus just in one instance must havean honest mind. Her doubts of the poor girl were at an end, but no sooner did she cast her eyes on George, than she read, in the deep blush that spread over his face, in his downcast look, and the trembling of his limbs, who was the guilty person.Guilt not only fixes the stings of remorse within the bosom, but imprints its hateful mark upon the outward form.[1]The spelling is Mrs. Fenwick's.[Pg75][Pg76]The Choice of FriendsThe moon was shining on a clear cold night, and it was near ten o'clock, and all the children of the village of Newton, except one, were in bed and asleep. That one, whose name was Frank Lawless, was above three miles from home, weeping with pain and fear, alone, forlorn, cold, and wretched, with no shelter but a leafless hedge and no seat but a hard stone; while his father and mother were running wildly about the fields and lanes, not knowing what had become of their naughty boy.Frank Lawless had been playing truant that day, and was met by his father with a number of bad boys, to whom he ought not at any time to have spoken. They were the children of brickmakers, and most likely they had never been taught what was right; so that if they said wicked words, told lies, and took things which did not belong to them, one could scarcely wonder at it; but that Frank Lawless, who had the means of knowing the value of good conduct and good manners, should choose such boys for his friends and playfellows, was indeed most strange. Yet thus it was; their shouting, laughing, and vulgar mirth pleased Frank. They had also a great share of cunning, and found the way to manage him, so as to get from him what they wanted to have. Whenthey told Frank that he was very handsome and very clever, and that it was a shame so fine a boy should be forced to go to school if he did not like it, he was silly enough to be pleased, and gave them in return his playthings and his money; nay, he would even take sugar, cakes, fruit, and sweetmeats from his mother's store-room to bestow on these ill-chosen friends; and their false pretence of love for him made him quite careless of gaining the real love of his father and mother.On meeting his son in the midst of the brickmakers' children, Mr. Lawless[2]was very angry, and, taking him home by force, he gave him a severe reproof, and then locked him up in his chamber. Frank,who had lately grown very sullen and froward, was far from being sorry for his fault, and said to himself that his father was both cross and cruel, and wished to prevent his being happy. With these wicked thoughts in his head, he began to contrive how to make his escape; and the window not being very high above the ground, and having a vine growing up to it, whose branches would serve as a sort of ladder, he got out, reached the ground, and passing unseen through the garden-gate, ran with all his speed till he came up to the boys, who were still at the cruel sport of robbing birds'-nests in the lane where he had left them.But he did not seem half as welcome to them now as in the morning, when he had brought a pocket full of apples, and as hesaid he was come to live with them, and should never go home again, their manner was quite changed. One took away his hat and another his shoes. They cut sticks to make a bonfire, and, having got a great pile, they made Frank carry it. The weight was too much for him, and when he let it fall, they gave him hard words and still harder blows. He now began to find that the service of the wicked is by no means so easy as to obey the commands of the good.While Frank Lawless was toiling under his heavy load of sticks, the boys were laying a plan to rob an orchard. It was the autumn season of the year, and all the fruit of the orchard was gone, except the pears of one tree, which, as it stood very near the dwelling-house of the owner of the orchard, these boyshad been afraid to climb. Now having Frank Lawless in their power, they thought of making him, in the dusk of the evening, commit the theft and run all the hazard, while they stayed in safety by the hedge, ready to receive the stolen fruit. Frank, dreading what might happen to him in the daring attempt, begged and prayed them not to force him there; but he had made himself a slave to hard task-masters, and they cuffed and kicked him, till, to escape from their hands, he climbed the tree.Scarcely had Frank pulled half-a-dozen pears, when his false friends heard the farmer who owned the orchard come singing up the lane: and, to save themselves from being thought to have any concern with it, they began to pelt Frank with stones, and cry aloud—'See, see, thereis a boy robbing Farmer Wright's pear-tree.' Frank got down as quickly as he could, but not soon enough to escape the angry farmer, who gave him a most severe horse-whipping, while those who had brought him into this sad scrape stood laughing, hooting, and clapping their hands. It was useless to try to excuse himself; he had been seen in the tree, the pears were found in his pocket, and the farmer, after whipping him without mercy, pushed him out of the orchard and bade him be gone.Smarting now with pain, and almost blinded by his tears, he ran to get away from the false and cruel boys who were making sport of what they had caused him to suffer, when one, still more wicked than the rest, threw a great stone after him, which, hitting his ankle-bone,gave him such extreme torture that he sank on the ground not able to proceed a step farther. The boys made off in alarm at what they had done, and Frank, in terror and pain, sat sobbing on a stone till he was found by his father, who had been searching for him in the greatest distress.His father took him home, warmed and fed him and healed his bruises, though after such extreme bad conduct, he could not esteem and caress him like a good child. It was happy for Frank Lawless that he took the warning of that day. He had gained nothing but shame, pain, and sorrow by his choice of wicked friends, and from that time he chose with more wisdom. Good conduct brought him back to his father's favour, and now at ten o'clock at night, whenthe moon and stars were shining in the sky, and the air was cold and frosty, Frank Lawless was always snug in bed, like the rest of the good children of the little village of Newton.[3][2]One drawback to bringing Frank's father into the story is that he, in spite of his character, has to be called Lawless too.[3]There is one error in this story which perhaps it is worth while to point out. Birds'-nesting and orchard-robbing are not in season together.[Pg86][Pg87][Pg88]Cousin James and Cousin ThomasJames Brown was born at a farmhouse. He had not seen a town or a city when he was ten years old.James Brown rose from his bed at six in the morning during summer. The men and maids of a farmhouse rise much sooner than that hour, and go to their daily work. Some yoke the oxen to the plough, some bring the horses in from the field, some mend the hedges, some manure the land, some sow seed in the ground, and some plant young trees. Thosewho have the care of the sheep, and who are called shepherds, take their flocks from the fold and lead them to their pasture on the hills, or in the green meadows by the running brook. The maids meanwhile haste to milk the cows, then churn the butter, put the cheese into the cheese-press, clean their dairy, and feed the pigs, geese, turkeys, ducks, and chickens. James Brown did not work in the fields, so when he rose from his bed, his first care was to wash his face and hands, to comb and brush his hair; and when these things were done, and he had said his morning prayers, he went with his father about the farm or weeded the garden. Garden work was very proper for a boy of his age and size.James Brown had a cousin, named Thomas, and ThomasBrown once came to pay James a visit. The two boys were very glad to see each other, and Thomas told James of the famous city of London, where he lived. He spoke of the spacious paved streets, crowded all day by throngs of people, and lighted at night by rows, on each side of the way, of glass lamps. He told him of the fine toy-shops, where all kinds of playthings for children are sold: such as bats, balls, kites, marbles, tops, drums, trumpets, whips, wheelbarrows, shuttles, dolls, and baby-houses. And of other great shops where linens, muslins, silks, laces, and ribbons fill the windows, and make quite a gay picture to attract the passers-by. He described also the noble buildings and the great river Thames, with its fine arched bridges, built of stone. He spokeor the immense number of boats, barges, and vessels that sail and row upon the Thames, and of the great ships that lie at anchor there, which bring stores of goods from all parts of the world. He told him of the King's palace and the Queen's palace, of the park and the canal, with the stately swans that are seen swimming on it.Nor did he forget to describe Saint Paul's Church, with its fine choir, its lofty dome and cupola, and its curious whispering gallery, where a whisper breathed to the wall on one side is carried round by the echo, and the words are heard distinctly on the opposite side of the gallery. He spoke also of Westminster Abbey, that fine old Gothic building which contains a great number of monuments, erected there to keep alive the remembranceof the actions of great and wise men.He told James likewise of the Tower of London, which is always guarded by soldiers, and in one part of which he had seen lions, tigers, a wolf, a spotted panther, a white Greenland bear, and other wild beasts, with many sorts of monkeys.[4]Thomas Brown talked very fast on these subjects, and as James, who had never seen anything of the kind, was quite silent, and seemed as much surprised as pleased with all that he heard, Thomas began to think his cousin was but a dull, stupid sort of boy. But the next morning, when they went outinto the fields, he found that James had as much knowledge as himself, though not of the same kind. Thomas knew not wheat from barley, nor oats from rye; nor did he know the oak tree from the elm, nor the ash from the willow. He had heard that bread was made from corn, but he had never seen it threshed in a barn from the stalks, nor had he ever seen a mill grinding it into flour. He knew nothing of the manner of making and baking bread, of brewing malt and hops into beer, or of the churning of butter. Nor did he even know that the skins of cows, calves, bulls, horses, sheep, and goats were made into leather.James Brown perfectly knew these, and many other things of the same nature, and he willingly taught his cousin to understandsome of the arts that belong to the practice of husbandry.These friendly and observing boys, after this time, met always once a year, and they were eager in their separate stations to acquire knowledge, that they might impart it to each other at the end of the twelvemonth. So that Thomas, while living in a crowded city, gained a knowledge of farming and all that relates to a country life; and James, though dwelling a hundred miles from London, knew all the curious things that it contained.[4]These, it is sad to say, have now gone. Beyond a venerable raven, the Tower has no live stock. To-day Thomas would describe the Zoo instead.[Pg96][Pg97][Pg98]The Disasters of ImpatienceOn the day that Mr. Daleham removed from his town residence to his new house in the country there was much bustle and business in the family. The servants were all employed in unpacking and arranging chairs, tables, sofas, and sideboards in their proper places. Some men were putting up beds, while others were hanging window-curtains and nailing down carpets. The only idle persons in the house were Arnold and Isabel, and they could find nothing to do but toskip from room to room, ask questions, admire their new dwelling-house, and talk of the pleasure they should receive in a visit their father was engaged to make that day to Mr. Morton, his intimate friend, who lived about one mile and a half distant.So desirous were Arnold and Isabel of seeing Morton Park, or rather perhaps of eating some of the fine grapes and melons which they had heard grew in Mr. Morton's hot-house, that the morning seemed to be the length of the whole day. When people are without employment, time hangs heavily on their hands, and minutes will appear to be as long as hours. Half a dozen times in the course of the morning these children ran to the door of the library, to ask their father when he would beready to go, and though he was engaged sorting papers and arranging his books, they did not forbear their troublesome inquiries till he was quite angry with them.At length, however, the joyful tidings came to Arnold and Isabel that they were to dress directly, as their father would be ready to set out in half an hour. As the day was very fine, and the coachman's assistance was useful to the other servants busied in disposing the furniture in the various apartments, Mr. Daleham chose to walk to Morton Park; but after he had dressed, and the half-hour had elapsed, he still had orders to give that detained him.Arnold and Isabel meanwhile were standing at the hall door, almost wild with their impatience to be gone; and at last Arnoldproposed to his sister that they should go on first, as their papa could soon overtake them; and Isabel eagerly ran to ask the housekeeper whether they must take the right or the left-hand road. The housekeeper was busy with a basket of china, some of which had been broken in the carriage; and as her thoughts were fixed on the fragments of the china, she scarcely attended to the nature of Isabel's question, and said hastily that the right-hand road led to Morton Park; and so it did, but that was the coach road, and Mr. Daleham meant to go a much nearer and cleaner way, upon a raised path across some pleasant meadows.No sooner had Isabel received the housekeeper's reply than away they went, and in their eagerness to reach Morton Park, they didnot at first observe that the lane was very dirty; but at last some large splashes of mud on Isabel's clean frock attracted Arnold's notice, and he then perceived that his own white stockings and nankeen trousers were in the same dirty state. What was now to be done? They both felt that it was highly improper to go to a gentleman's house in such a condition; but then Arnold said that his father must know that the road was dirty after so much rain as they had had lately, and as he meant to walk, he supposed their getting a few splashes was of no consequence. Isabel agreed with this mode of reasoning, and on they went, expecting every moment to hear their father's steps behind them.The lane now became wider and more open to the beams of thesun, which had dried the pathway; but though they were somewhat out of the mud, the heat of the sun was so intense they knew not how to bear it, and they walked as fast as they could in order to get to some shady place. While they were panting with heat, they suddenly came to a stream that ran directly across the road, and it had no bridge over it, because foot passengers rarely came that way.They were now in the greatest distress. To stand still in the full burning sun was dreadful, and to go back was equally fatiguing. There was no place to sit down in that part of the road, but on the opposite side of the stream three large oak trees were growing, and formed a pleasant shade over a green bank. Isabel, greatly tired, and almost fainting with heat,wished she could get to the shady bank; so did Arnold, and he said he could take off his shoes and stockings, and carry his sister through the water on his back. This plan was settled; and they agreed that, when they were over the stream, they would wait on the bank for their papa, and endeavour to rub off upon the grass the clots of mud that stuck to their shoes. But either Arnold was not so strong as he had supposed he was, or Isabel, having her brother's shoes and stockings to carry in her hand, did not hold fast round his neck, for just as they were in the middle of the stream, his foot slipped, he staggered, fell, and down went brother and sister at once into the pool.Both scrambled up in a moment, and neither had suffered moreinjury than being completely bathed in the water. With streaming hair and dripping garments they reached the bank; but when Isabel saw that the ribbons of her new straw bonnet were spoiled, she began to cry and accuse her brother of having thrown her down on purpose, which so provoked the young gentleman, that he said it was all owing to her clumsiness, and at the same time he shook the sleeves of his jacket, from which he was wringing the wet, in her face. Isabel's anger increasing at this, she rudely gave her brother a severe box on the ear. A scuffle now ensued, which caused a second tumble, and this fall being on the rough gravel, Isabel's face was scratched by the sharp pebbles, and Arnold's elbow sadly cut by a large flint stone.The smart of these wounds cooledtheir passions; they thought no more of fighting, and were wiping away the blood, and looking with grief and dismay at their wet, dirty clothes, when a servant came up who had been sent in pursuit of them.Mr. Daleham was not far behind. He had been told that Arnold and Isabel were gone before him, and was much alarmed at not finding them in the field-path. He had therefore returned the same way to search for them; he ordered the servant to conduct them home, and told them that their silly impatience had spoiled their pleasure, as it was not possible for them now to appear at Morton Park.Mr. Daleham then hastened on, for fear Mr. Morton's dinner should wait for him; and Arnold and Isabel, forlorn, wet, draggled, anddirty, were led back to their own house. They passed a dismal afternoon, lamenting their folly and imprudence; and next morning they heard that there were not only plenty of grapes, melons, peaches, and filberts on Mr. Morton's table, but that also a very merry party of children were assembled there, who danced on the lawn till the dusk of evening approached, and then played at blindman's buff in the great hall.[Pg109][Pg110]The Deaf and Dumb Boy'Now, my dear boy and girl,' said their aunt to Charles and Helen Laurie, 'you are come to stay a whole fortnight with me, and we must take care not to mis-spend our time, for not all the art of man can restore one day that is lost. You, Charles, shall practise your drawing while Helen works, and then while I hear Helen spell and read, you may write. Each day of our lives should be made some good use of; and while we are young,and have health and strength, we ought to learn all those things which we may wish to know when we are grown old.'Charles and Helen Laurie now ran in search of their books, which were soon found, as they were laid in the right place; and then they sat down to their tasks, glad to please their aunt, and quite certain that to learn to be wise and good was the best thing in the world.At the hour of noon, when the clock had struck twelve, their aunt told them to leave their books, put on their hats, and go out to walk with her. They went through some fields, and down a pretty lane, and in the hedges on each side were tall oak, elm, and poplar trees, that made the lane look like a grove, and kept them from therays of the sun. At length they came to a small, neat, white house that stood on a green lawn, and had bushes of lilac blossoms before the windows, with a large fish-pond at the end of it. The house had rails before it, and Charles and Helen went with their aunt through a gate that was made of the tools that men work with in the fields, such as a rake, a spade, a hoe, and a scythe.In the house they saw a fine-looking boy of ten years of age, with light-brown hair, hazel eyes, and cheeks as red as a rose. He came up to Charles and Helen, and shook hands with them, and seemed joyous at seeing them, but did not say a word. They thought it strange that he did not speak to them; and at last Charles said to him, 'Your lawn would be a goodplace to play at trap-ball on, if it were not for the fish-pond that is so near it. Do you play at trap-ball, sir?'The boy, whose name was Jackson, put his hand to his mouth, shook his head, got up from his chair, went for a slate, wrote on it, and gave it to Charles, who read these words: 'I cannot speak to you. I do not hear what you say to me. I am a poor deaf and dumb boy, but I shall be glad to please you, now you have been so kind as to come to see me. Pray write down on this slate what you wish me to do.'Charles took the slate, and when Helen read the words that were written on it, her eyes were full of tears, to think that such a sweet boy should be deaf and dumb. But Charles hung his head, forJackson wrote so fine a hand, that he did not like to show that he could not perform as well. Helen knew what Charles was thinking of, for she had heard him found fault with, and had seen him write when he did not take pains to learn to write a fine hand; so she went to the hall door and made a sign to Jackson, as much as to say they would like to go out.Jackson led them round the lawn to the fish-pond, and that they might see the fish, he threw in some pieces of bread to make the fish jump up to catch the bread in their mouths. He next took them to the back of the house to show them the farm-yard; there they saw cocks and hens on the rubbish heap, ducks and geese dipping or swimming in the pond, pigs grunting, cows, calves, and a pet lamb,who, as soon as he saw them, came out of a barn and ran up to Jackson, that he might stroke and play with him; but he was full of tricks, and when Charles or Helen went near him he strove to butt them with his young horns. He would not eat out of their hands, but he took all that Jackson gave him. In the same barn that the lamb came out of, were a goat and two young kids. The goat, the kids, the lamb, the calves, all were fond of Jackson, for he had a kind heart and would not hurt the smallest insect.Charles and Helen stayed that day to dine with Jackson, of whom they grew more and more fond each moment that they were with him. He was a boy of a sweet, gentle temper, and won the kindness of all who came to his house. He drew as well as he wrote, and knew all thethings that a deaf and dumb boy could learn. He had a box of tools, and had made a bird-cage and a neat desk to write on. It is a sad thing to be deaf and dumb, for much of what boys learn at school, and which it is right to know, cannot be taught to a deaf and dumb child.Charles told his aunt Laurie, as they went home at night, that when he had grown to be a man he would love Jackson, and try to be of use to him, since blind or deaf and dumb men must want some one to guide and take care of them.It is a sad thing not to see, or not to speak and hear; so that all boys and girls who have their sight and speech should be glad to make the best use of them. They should, while they are young, do what they are told by their friends is right tobe done, and then when they grow up they can be of great use in the world. A fool, a dunce, or a bad man does harm and not good in the world.[Pg119][Pg120]Limby Lumpy;Or, the Boy who was Spoiled by his Mamma[5]ILimby Lumpy was the only son of his mamma. His father was called the 'Pavior's Assistant'; for he was so large and heavy, that when he used to walk through the streets the men who were ramming the stones down with a large wooden rammer would say, 'Please to walkover these stones, sir.' And then the men would get a rest.Limby was born on the 1st of April; I do not know how long ago; but, before he came into the world, such preparations were made. There was a beautiful cradle; and a bunch of coral, with bells on it; and lots of little caps; and a fine satin hat; and tops and bottoms for pap; and two nurses to take care of him. He was, too, to have a little chaise, when he grew big enough; after that, he was to have a donkey, and then a pony. In short, he was to have the moon for a plaything, if it could be got; and, as to the stars, he would have had them, if they had not been too high to reach.Limby made a rare to-do when he was a little baby. But he never was alittlebaby—he was always abig baby; nay, he was a big baby till the day of his death.'Baby Big,' his mamma used to call him; he was 'a noble baby,' said his aunt; he was 'a sweet baby,' said old Mrs. Tomkins, the nurse; he was 'a dear baby,' said his papa,—and so he was, for hecosta good deal. He was 'a darling baby,' said his aunt, by the mother's side; 'there never was such a fine child,' said everybody, before the parents; when they were at another place they called him 'a great, ugly, fat child.'Limby was almost as broad as he was long. He had what some people called an open countenance; that is, one as broad as a full moon. He had what his mamma called beautiful auburn locks, but what other people said were carroty; not before the mother, of course.Limby had a flattish nose and a widish mouth, and his eyes were a little out of the right line. Poor little dear, he could not help that, and therefore it was not right to laugh at him.Everybody, however, laughed to see him eat his pap, for he would not be fed with the patent silver pap-spoon which his father bought him; but used to lay himself flat on his back, and seize the pap-boat with both hands, and never leave go of it till its contents were fairly in his dear little stomach.So Limby grew bigger and bigger every day, till at last he could scarcely draw his breath, and was very ill; so his mother sent for three apothecaries and two physicians, who looked at him, and told his mamma there were no hopes: the poor child was dying of over-feeding.The physicians, however, prescribed for him—a dose of castor oil.His mamma attempted to give him the castor oil; but Limby, although he liked tops and bottoms, and cordial, and pap, and sweetbread, and oysters, and other things nicely dished up, had no fancy for castor oil, and struggled, and kicked, and fought every time his nurse or mamma attempted to give it him.'Limby, my darling boy,' said his mamma, 'my sweet cherub, my only dearest, do take its oily poily—there's a ducky, deary—and it shall ride in a coachy poachy.''O! the dear baby,' said the nurse, 'take it for nursey. It will take it for nursey—that it will.'The nurse had got the oil in a silver medicine spoon, so contrived that if you could get it into thechild's mouth the medicine must go down. Limby, however, took care that no spoon should go into his mouth; and when the nurse tried the experiment for the nineteenth time, gave a plunge and a kick, and sent the spoon up to the ceiling, knocked off nurse's spectacles, upset the table on which all the bottles and glasses were, and came down whack on the floor.His mother picked him up, clasped him to her breast, and almost smothered him with kisses. 'O! my dear boy,' said she, 'it shan't take the nasty oil—it won't take it, the darling; naughty nurse to hurt baby: it shall not take nasty physic'; and then she kissed him again.Poor Limby, although only two years old, knew what he was at—he was trying to get the master ofhis mamma; he felt he had gained his point, and gave another kick and a squall, at the same time planted a blow on his mother's eye.'Dear little creature,' said she, 'he is in a state of high convulsions and fever—he will never recover.'But Limby did recover, and in a few days was running about the house, and the master of it; there was nobody to be considered, nobody to be consulted, nobody to be attended to, but Limby Lumpy.IILimby grew up big and strong; he had everything his own way. One day, when he was at dinner with his father and mother, perched upon a double chair, with his silver knife and fork, and silver mug todrink from, he amused himself by playing drums on his plate with the mug.'Don't make that noise, Limby, my dear,' said his father. 'Dear little lamb,' said his mother, 'let him amuse himself. Limby, have some pudding?''No; Limby no pudding'—drum! drum! drum!A piece of pudding was, however, put on Limby's plate, but he kept on drumming as before. At last he drummed the bottom of the mug into the soft pudding, to which it stuck, and by which means it was scattered all over the carpet.'Limby, my darling,' said his mother; and the servant was called to wipe Limby's mug and pick the pudding up from the floor. Limby would not have his mug wiped, and floundered about, and upset thecruet-stand and the mustard on the table-cloth.'O! Limby Lumpy; naughty boy,' said his father.'Don't speak so cross to the child; he is but a child,' said his mother; 'I don't like to hear you speak so cross to the child.''I tell you what it is,' said his father, 'I think the boy does as he likes; but I don't want to interfere.'Limby now sat still, resolving what to do next. He was not hungry, having been stuffed with a large piece of pound cake about an hour before dinner; but he wanted something to do, and could not sit still.Presently a saddle of mutton was brought on the table. When Limby saw this he set up a crow of delight. 'Limby ride,' said he,'Limby ride'; and rose up in his chair, as if to reach the dish.'Yes, my ducky, it shall have some mutton,' said his mamma; and immediately gave him a slice, cut up into small morsels. That was not it. Limby pushed that on the floor, and cried out, 'Limby on meat! Limby on meat!'His mamma could not think what he meant. At last, however, his father recollected that he had been in the habit of giving him a ride occasionally, first on his foot, sometimes on the scroll end of the sofa, at other times on the top of the easy chair. Once he put him on a dog, and more than once on the saddle; in short, he had been in the habit of perching him on various things; and now Limby, hearing this was asaddleof mutton, wanted to take a ride on it.'Limby on—Limby ride on bone,' said the child, in a whimper.'Did youever hear?' said the father.'What an extraordinary child!' said the mother; 'how clever to know it was like a saddle—the little dear. No, no, Limby—grease frock, Limby.'But Limby cared nothing about a greasy frock, not he—he was used enough to that; and therefore roared out more lustily for a ride on the mutton.'Did you ever know such a child? What a dear, determined spirit!''He is a child of an uncommon mind,' said his mother. 'Limby, dear—Limby, dear—silence! silence!'The truth was, Limby made such a roaring, that neither father normother could get their dinners, and scarcely knew whether they were eating beef or mutton.'It is impossible to let him ride on the mutton,' said his father: 'quite impossible!''Well, but you might just put him astride the dish, just to satisfy him; you can take care his legs or clothes do not go into the gravy.''Anything for a quiet life,' said the father. 'What does Limby want?—Limby ride?''Limby on bone!—Limby on meat!''Shall I put him across?' said Mr. Lumpy.'Just for one moment,' said his mamma: 'it won't hurt the mutton.'The father rose, and took Limby from his chair, and, with the greatest caution, held his son'slegs astride, so that they might hang on each side of the dish without touching it; 'just to satisfy him,' as he said, 'that they might dine in quiet,' and was about to withdraw him from it immediately.But Limby was not to be cheated in that way, he wished to feel the saddleunderhim, and accordingly forced himself down upon it; but feeling it rather warmer than was agreeable, started, and lost his balance, and fell down among the dishes, soused in melted butter, cauliflower, and gravy—floundering, and kicking, and screaming, to the detriment of glasses, jugs, dishes, and everything else on the table.'My child! my child!' said his mamma; 'O! save my child!'She snatched him up, and pressed his begreased garments close to the bosom of her best silk gown.Neither father nor mother wanted any more dinner after this. As to Limby, he was as frisky afterwards as if nothing had happened; and, about half an hour from the time of this disaster,cried for his dinner.
[Pg64][Pg65][Pg66]
A poor girl, whose face was pale and sickly, and who led a little ragged child by the hand, came up one day to the door of a large house, and, seeing a boy standing there, said to him, 'Do, pray, sir, ask your mamma to buy these plumbs. There are four dozen in my basket.' George Loft took the basket to his mother, who counted the plumbs, and finding them right in number and that they were sound, good fruit, sent out to know the price.The girl asking more than Mrs. Loft thought they were worth, she put the plumbs again into the basket, and told George to carry them back, and say it did not suit her to buy them.
Now these plumbs were fresh picked from the tree; they had a fine bloom on them, and were very tempting to the eye. George loved plumbs above all other fruit, and he walked very slowly from the parlour with his eyes fixed on the basket. The longer he looked, the more he wished to taste them. One plumb, he thought, would not be missed; and as he put his hand in to take that one, two others lay close under his fingers. It was as easy to take three as one, and the three plumbs were taken and put into his pocket. When he reached the hall door and gave the basket back to the girl,his face was as red as a flame of fire, but she did not notice it, nor thought of counting her plumbs; for how could she suppose any one inthathouse would be so mean as to take fromherlittle store!
It chanced that as the girl turned from the door, Mrs. Loft came to the parlour window, and, seeing the girl look so ill, she felt sorry she had not bought the plumbs. Therefore, throwing up the sash, she asked the cause of her sickly looks. The girl then told a sad story of distress: she had been ill of a fever; her parents had caught the disease of her, and were now very bad and not able to work for the support of their children. In the little garden of their cottage a plumb-tree grew, and she had picked the ripe plumbs and had come out to sell them that she might buyphysic for her parents and food for herself and her hungry little sister. Mrs. Loft paid the girl the full price for her plumbs, gave her wine to carry to her sick parents and food for herself and the child, and bade her return the next day for more.
Soon after the grateful girl had left the house, Mrs. Loft, placing the fruit in her dessert-baskets, found that, instead of forty-eight, there were only forty-five plumbs; and, far from thinking her son had been guilty of the theft, she laid the blame on the girl, who she now thought had tried to impose on her. It was not the loss of three plumbs that Mrs. Loft cared for, but the want of an honest mind that gave her offence. She had meant to be a friend to the poor girl, but now she began to doubt the truth of herstory; for Mrs. Loft thought if she could impose in one thing she might also in others. Deeming the girl therefore no longer worthy of her kindness, she gave orders for her to be sent away when she came on the morrow.
George had heard the whole: first, the tale of distress, and then his mother's censure of the blameless girl. He had not only taken from a poor, wretched creature a part of her little all, but had been the means of bringing a foul reproach upon her, while her parents, who might have been saved from greater distress by his mother's bounty, would now be left helpless, in sickness and in sorrow. All this cruel mischief he had done for the sake of eating three plumbs—he, too, who had never wanted food, clothes, nor anything a child needdesire to possess. He felt the bitter pangs of guilt, and the fruit, whose shape and bloom had looked so tempting, was now as hateful as poison to the sight of George.
There was still a way left to make some amends: namely, to confess his fault to his mother. It did require some courage to do this; and when a boy throws away his sense of honour, no wonder his courage should forsake him. George could not resolve to disclose a crime to his mother, which he thought she never would find out. The first day in each week he had sixpence given him for pocket-money, and he laid a plan to save that money, and to bestow it for a month to come on the girl. This, he thought, was doing even more than justice: for as her three plumbs were only worth one penny, he should by thismeans give her two shillings for them, and save his own credit with his mamma. He wished with all his heart he had never touched the plumbs; but as he had done it, it seemed to him less painful to leave the poor girl to suffer the blame, than to accuse himself.
With this plan of further deceit in his mind, George went to dinner; but before the cloth was taken from the table he had reason enough to repent of his double error. Mrs. Loft, in paying for the plumbs, had given a number of half-pence, among which, unseen by her, a shilling had slipped. When the poor girl reached the cottage she found the shilling, and lost not a moment in coming back to restore it to its right owner. Mrs. Loft well knew that she who could be thus just in one instance must havean honest mind. Her doubts of the poor girl were at an end, but no sooner did she cast her eyes on George, than she read, in the deep blush that spread over his face, in his downcast look, and the trembling of his limbs, who was the guilty person.
Guilt not only fixes the stings of remorse within the bosom, but imprints its hateful mark upon the outward form.
[1]The spelling is Mrs. Fenwick's.
[1]The spelling is Mrs. Fenwick's.
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The moon was shining on a clear cold night, and it was near ten o'clock, and all the children of the village of Newton, except one, were in bed and asleep. That one, whose name was Frank Lawless, was above three miles from home, weeping with pain and fear, alone, forlorn, cold, and wretched, with no shelter but a leafless hedge and no seat but a hard stone; while his father and mother were running wildly about the fields and lanes, not knowing what had become of their naughty boy.
Frank Lawless had been playing truant that day, and was met by his father with a number of bad boys, to whom he ought not at any time to have spoken. They were the children of brickmakers, and most likely they had never been taught what was right; so that if they said wicked words, told lies, and took things which did not belong to them, one could scarcely wonder at it; but that Frank Lawless, who had the means of knowing the value of good conduct and good manners, should choose such boys for his friends and playfellows, was indeed most strange. Yet thus it was; their shouting, laughing, and vulgar mirth pleased Frank. They had also a great share of cunning, and found the way to manage him, so as to get from him what they wanted to have. Whenthey told Frank that he was very handsome and very clever, and that it was a shame so fine a boy should be forced to go to school if he did not like it, he was silly enough to be pleased, and gave them in return his playthings and his money; nay, he would even take sugar, cakes, fruit, and sweetmeats from his mother's store-room to bestow on these ill-chosen friends; and their false pretence of love for him made him quite careless of gaining the real love of his father and mother.
On meeting his son in the midst of the brickmakers' children, Mr. Lawless[2]was very angry, and, taking him home by force, he gave him a severe reproof, and then locked him up in his chamber. Frank,who had lately grown very sullen and froward, was far from being sorry for his fault, and said to himself that his father was both cross and cruel, and wished to prevent his being happy. With these wicked thoughts in his head, he began to contrive how to make his escape; and the window not being very high above the ground, and having a vine growing up to it, whose branches would serve as a sort of ladder, he got out, reached the ground, and passing unseen through the garden-gate, ran with all his speed till he came up to the boys, who were still at the cruel sport of robbing birds'-nests in the lane where he had left them.
But he did not seem half as welcome to them now as in the morning, when he had brought a pocket full of apples, and as hesaid he was come to live with them, and should never go home again, their manner was quite changed. One took away his hat and another his shoes. They cut sticks to make a bonfire, and, having got a great pile, they made Frank carry it. The weight was too much for him, and when he let it fall, they gave him hard words and still harder blows. He now began to find that the service of the wicked is by no means so easy as to obey the commands of the good.
While Frank Lawless was toiling under his heavy load of sticks, the boys were laying a plan to rob an orchard. It was the autumn season of the year, and all the fruit of the orchard was gone, except the pears of one tree, which, as it stood very near the dwelling-house of the owner of the orchard, these boyshad been afraid to climb. Now having Frank Lawless in their power, they thought of making him, in the dusk of the evening, commit the theft and run all the hazard, while they stayed in safety by the hedge, ready to receive the stolen fruit. Frank, dreading what might happen to him in the daring attempt, begged and prayed them not to force him there; but he had made himself a slave to hard task-masters, and they cuffed and kicked him, till, to escape from their hands, he climbed the tree.
Scarcely had Frank pulled half-a-dozen pears, when his false friends heard the farmer who owned the orchard come singing up the lane: and, to save themselves from being thought to have any concern with it, they began to pelt Frank with stones, and cry aloud—'See, see, thereis a boy robbing Farmer Wright's pear-tree.' Frank got down as quickly as he could, but not soon enough to escape the angry farmer, who gave him a most severe horse-whipping, while those who had brought him into this sad scrape stood laughing, hooting, and clapping their hands. It was useless to try to excuse himself; he had been seen in the tree, the pears were found in his pocket, and the farmer, after whipping him without mercy, pushed him out of the orchard and bade him be gone.
Smarting now with pain, and almost blinded by his tears, he ran to get away from the false and cruel boys who were making sport of what they had caused him to suffer, when one, still more wicked than the rest, threw a great stone after him, which, hitting his ankle-bone,gave him such extreme torture that he sank on the ground not able to proceed a step farther. The boys made off in alarm at what they had done, and Frank, in terror and pain, sat sobbing on a stone till he was found by his father, who had been searching for him in the greatest distress.
His father took him home, warmed and fed him and healed his bruises, though after such extreme bad conduct, he could not esteem and caress him like a good child. It was happy for Frank Lawless that he took the warning of that day. He had gained nothing but shame, pain, and sorrow by his choice of wicked friends, and from that time he chose with more wisdom. Good conduct brought him back to his father's favour, and now at ten o'clock at night, whenthe moon and stars were shining in the sky, and the air was cold and frosty, Frank Lawless was always snug in bed, like the rest of the good children of the little village of Newton.[3]
[2]One drawback to bringing Frank's father into the story is that he, in spite of his character, has to be called Lawless too.
[2]One drawback to bringing Frank's father into the story is that he, in spite of his character, has to be called Lawless too.
[3]There is one error in this story which perhaps it is worth while to point out. Birds'-nesting and orchard-robbing are not in season together.
[3]There is one error in this story which perhaps it is worth while to point out. Birds'-nesting and orchard-robbing are not in season together.
[Pg86][Pg87][Pg88]
James Brown was born at a farmhouse. He had not seen a town or a city when he was ten years old.
James Brown rose from his bed at six in the morning during summer. The men and maids of a farmhouse rise much sooner than that hour, and go to their daily work. Some yoke the oxen to the plough, some bring the horses in from the field, some mend the hedges, some manure the land, some sow seed in the ground, and some plant young trees. Thosewho have the care of the sheep, and who are called shepherds, take their flocks from the fold and lead them to their pasture on the hills, or in the green meadows by the running brook. The maids meanwhile haste to milk the cows, then churn the butter, put the cheese into the cheese-press, clean their dairy, and feed the pigs, geese, turkeys, ducks, and chickens. James Brown did not work in the fields, so when he rose from his bed, his first care was to wash his face and hands, to comb and brush his hair; and when these things were done, and he had said his morning prayers, he went with his father about the farm or weeded the garden. Garden work was very proper for a boy of his age and size.
James Brown had a cousin, named Thomas, and ThomasBrown once came to pay James a visit. The two boys were very glad to see each other, and Thomas told James of the famous city of London, where he lived. He spoke of the spacious paved streets, crowded all day by throngs of people, and lighted at night by rows, on each side of the way, of glass lamps. He told him of the fine toy-shops, where all kinds of playthings for children are sold: such as bats, balls, kites, marbles, tops, drums, trumpets, whips, wheelbarrows, shuttles, dolls, and baby-houses. And of other great shops where linens, muslins, silks, laces, and ribbons fill the windows, and make quite a gay picture to attract the passers-by. He described also the noble buildings and the great river Thames, with its fine arched bridges, built of stone. He spokeor the immense number of boats, barges, and vessels that sail and row upon the Thames, and of the great ships that lie at anchor there, which bring stores of goods from all parts of the world. He told him of the King's palace and the Queen's palace, of the park and the canal, with the stately swans that are seen swimming on it.
Nor did he forget to describe Saint Paul's Church, with its fine choir, its lofty dome and cupola, and its curious whispering gallery, where a whisper breathed to the wall on one side is carried round by the echo, and the words are heard distinctly on the opposite side of the gallery. He spoke also of Westminster Abbey, that fine old Gothic building which contains a great number of monuments, erected there to keep alive the remembranceof the actions of great and wise men.
He told James likewise of the Tower of London, which is always guarded by soldiers, and in one part of which he had seen lions, tigers, a wolf, a spotted panther, a white Greenland bear, and other wild beasts, with many sorts of monkeys.[4]
Thomas Brown talked very fast on these subjects, and as James, who had never seen anything of the kind, was quite silent, and seemed as much surprised as pleased with all that he heard, Thomas began to think his cousin was but a dull, stupid sort of boy. But the next morning, when they went outinto the fields, he found that James had as much knowledge as himself, though not of the same kind. Thomas knew not wheat from barley, nor oats from rye; nor did he know the oak tree from the elm, nor the ash from the willow. He had heard that bread was made from corn, but he had never seen it threshed in a barn from the stalks, nor had he ever seen a mill grinding it into flour. He knew nothing of the manner of making and baking bread, of brewing malt and hops into beer, or of the churning of butter. Nor did he even know that the skins of cows, calves, bulls, horses, sheep, and goats were made into leather.
James Brown perfectly knew these, and many other things of the same nature, and he willingly taught his cousin to understandsome of the arts that belong to the practice of husbandry.
These friendly and observing boys, after this time, met always once a year, and they were eager in their separate stations to acquire knowledge, that they might impart it to each other at the end of the twelvemonth. So that Thomas, while living in a crowded city, gained a knowledge of farming and all that relates to a country life; and James, though dwelling a hundred miles from London, knew all the curious things that it contained.
[4]These, it is sad to say, have now gone. Beyond a venerable raven, the Tower has no live stock. To-day Thomas would describe the Zoo instead.
[4]These, it is sad to say, have now gone. Beyond a venerable raven, the Tower has no live stock. To-day Thomas would describe the Zoo instead.
[Pg96][Pg97][Pg98]
On the day that Mr. Daleham removed from his town residence to his new house in the country there was much bustle and business in the family. The servants were all employed in unpacking and arranging chairs, tables, sofas, and sideboards in their proper places. Some men were putting up beds, while others were hanging window-curtains and nailing down carpets. The only idle persons in the house were Arnold and Isabel, and they could find nothing to do but toskip from room to room, ask questions, admire their new dwelling-house, and talk of the pleasure they should receive in a visit their father was engaged to make that day to Mr. Morton, his intimate friend, who lived about one mile and a half distant.
So desirous were Arnold and Isabel of seeing Morton Park, or rather perhaps of eating some of the fine grapes and melons which they had heard grew in Mr. Morton's hot-house, that the morning seemed to be the length of the whole day. When people are without employment, time hangs heavily on their hands, and minutes will appear to be as long as hours. Half a dozen times in the course of the morning these children ran to the door of the library, to ask their father when he would beready to go, and though he was engaged sorting papers and arranging his books, they did not forbear their troublesome inquiries till he was quite angry with them.
At length, however, the joyful tidings came to Arnold and Isabel that they were to dress directly, as their father would be ready to set out in half an hour. As the day was very fine, and the coachman's assistance was useful to the other servants busied in disposing the furniture in the various apartments, Mr. Daleham chose to walk to Morton Park; but after he had dressed, and the half-hour had elapsed, he still had orders to give that detained him.
Arnold and Isabel meanwhile were standing at the hall door, almost wild with their impatience to be gone; and at last Arnoldproposed to his sister that they should go on first, as their papa could soon overtake them; and Isabel eagerly ran to ask the housekeeper whether they must take the right or the left-hand road. The housekeeper was busy with a basket of china, some of which had been broken in the carriage; and as her thoughts were fixed on the fragments of the china, she scarcely attended to the nature of Isabel's question, and said hastily that the right-hand road led to Morton Park; and so it did, but that was the coach road, and Mr. Daleham meant to go a much nearer and cleaner way, upon a raised path across some pleasant meadows.
No sooner had Isabel received the housekeeper's reply than away they went, and in their eagerness to reach Morton Park, they didnot at first observe that the lane was very dirty; but at last some large splashes of mud on Isabel's clean frock attracted Arnold's notice, and he then perceived that his own white stockings and nankeen trousers were in the same dirty state. What was now to be done? They both felt that it was highly improper to go to a gentleman's house in such a condition; but then Arnold said that his father must know that the road was dirty after so much rain as they had had lately, and as he meant to walk, he supposed their getting a few splashes was of no consequence. Isabel agreed with this mode of reasoning, and on they went, expecting every moment to hear their father's steps behind them.
The lane now became wider and more open to the beams of thesun, which had dried the pathway; but though they were somewhat out of the mud, the heat of the sun was so intense they knew not how to bear it, and they walked as fast as they could in order to get to some shady place. While they were panting with heat, they suddenly came to a stream that ran directly across the road, and it had no bridge over it, because foot passengers rarely came that way.
They were now in the greatest distress. To stand still in the full burning sun was dreadful, and to go back was equally fatiguing. There was no place to sit down in that part of the road, but on the opposite side of the stream three large oak trees were growing, and formed a pleasant shade over a green bank. Isabel, greatly tired, and almost fainting with heat,wished she could get to the shady bank; so did Arnold, and he said he could take off his shoes and stockings, and carry his sister through the water on his back. This plan was settled; and they agreed that, when they were over the stream, they would wait on the bank for their papa, and endeavour to rub off upon the grass the clots of mud that stuck to their shoes. But either Arnold was not so strong as he had supposed he was, or Isabel, having her brother's shoes and stockings to carry in her hand, did not hold fast round his neck, for just as they were in the middle of the stream, his foot slipped, he staggered, fell, and down went brother and sister at once into the pool.
Both scrambled up in a moment, and neither had suffered moreinjury than being completely bathed in the water. With streaming hair and dripping garments they reached the bank; but when Isabel saw that the ribbons of her new straw bonnet were spoiled, she began to cry and accuse her brother of having thrown her down on purpose, which so provoked the young gentleman, that he said it was all owing to her clumsiness, and at the same time he shook the sleeves of his jacket, from which he was wringing the wet, in her face. Isabel's anger increasing at this, she rudely gave her brother a severe box on the ear. A scuffle now ensued, which caused a second tumble, and this fall being on the rough gravel, Isabel's face was scratched by the sharp pebbles, and Arnold's elbow sadly cut by a large flint stone.
The smart of these wounds cooledtheir passions; they thought no more of fighting, and were wiping away the blood, and looking with grief and dismay at their wet, dirty clothes, when a servant came up who had been sent in pursuit of them.
Mr. Daleham was not far behind. He had been told that Arnold and Isabel were gone before him, and was much alarmed at not finding them in the field-path. He had therefore returned the same way to search for them; he ordered the servant to conduct them home, and told them that their silly impatience had spoiled their pleasure, as it was not possible for them now to appear at Morton Park.
Mr. Daleham then hastened on, for fear Mr. Morton's dinner should wait for him; and Arnold and Isabel, forlorn, wet, draggled, anddirty, were led back to their own house. They passed a dismal afternoon, lamenting their folly and imprudence; and next morning they heard that there were not only plenty of grapes, melons, peaches, and filberts on Mr. Morton's table, but that also a very merry party of children were assembled there, who danced on the lawn till the dusk of evening approached, and then played at blindman's buff in the great hall.
[Pg109][Pg110]
'Now, my dear boy and girl,' said their aunt to Charles and Helen Laurie, 'you are come to stay a whole fortnight with me, and we must take care not to mis-spend our time, for not all the art of man can restore one day that is lost. You, Charles, shall practise your drawing while Helen works, and then while I hear Helen spell and read, you may write. Each day of our lives should be made some good use of; and while we are young,and have health and strength, we ought to learn all those things which we may wish to know when we are grown old.'
Charles and Helen Laurie now ran in search of their books, which were soon found, as they were laid in the right place; and then they sat down to their tasks, glad to please their aunt, and quite certain that to learn to be wise and good was the best thing in the world.
At the hour of noon, when the clock had struck twelve, their aunt told them to leave their books, put on their hats, and go out to walk with her. They went through some fields, and down a pretty lane, and in the hedges on each side were tall oak, elm, and poplar trees, that made the lane look like a grove, and kept them from therays of the sun. At length they came to a small, neat, white house that stood on a green lawn, and had bushes of lilac blossoms before the windows, with a large fish-pond at the end of it. The house had rails before it, and Charles and Helen went with their aunt through a gate that was made of the tools that men work with in the fields, such as a rake, a spade, a hoe, and a scythe.
In the house they saw a fine-looking boy of ten years of age, with light-brown hair, hazel eyes, and cheeks as red as a rose. He came up to Charles and Helen, and shook hands with them, and seemed joyous at seeing them, but did not say a word. They thought it strange that he did not speak to them; and at last Charles said to him, 'Your lawn would be a goodplace to play at trap-ball on, if it were not for the fish-pond that is so near it. Do you play at trap-ball, sir?'
The boy, whose name was Jackson, put his hand to his mouth, shook his head, got up from his chair, went for a slate, wrote on it, and gave it to Charles, who read these words: 'I cannot speak to you. I do not hear what you say to me. I am a poor deaf and dumb boy, but I shall be glad to please you, now you have been so kind as to come to see me. Pray write down on this slate what you wish me to do.'
Charles took the slate, and when Helen read the words that were written on it, her eyes were full of tears, to think that such a sweet boy should be deaf and dumb. But Charles hung his head, forJackson wrote so fine a hand, that he did not like to show that he could not perform as well. Helen knew what Charles was thinking of, for she had heard him found fault with, and had seen him write when he did not take pains to learn to write a fine hand; so she went to the hall door and made a sign to Jackson, as much as to say they would like to go out.
Jackson led them round the lawn to the fish-pond, and that they might see the fish, he threw in some pieces of bread to make the fish jump up to catch the bread in their mouths. He next took them to the back of the house to show them the farm-yard; there they saw cocks and hens on the rubbish heap, ducks and geese dipping or swimming in the pond, pigs grunting, cows, calves, and a pet lamb,who, as soon as he saw them, came out of a barn and ran up to Jackson, that he might stroke and play with him; but he was full of tricks, and when Charles or Helen went near him he strove to butt them with his young horns. He would not eat out of their hands, but he took all that Jackson gave him. In the same barn that the lamb came out of, were a goat and two young kids. The goat, the kids, the lamb, the calves, all were fond of Jackson, for he had a kind heart and would not hurt the smallest insect.
Charles and Helen stayed that day to dine with Jackson, of whom they grew more and more fond each moment that they were with him. He was a boy of a sweet, gentle temper, and won the kindness of all who came to his house. He drew as well as he wrote, and knew all thethings that a deaf and dumb boy could learn. He had a box of tools, and had made a bird-cage and a neat desk to write on. It is a sad thing to be deaf and dumb, for much of what boys learn at school, and which it is right to know, cannot be taught to a deaf and dumb child.
Charles told his aunt Laurie, as they went home at night, that when he had grown to be a man he would love Jackson, and try to be of use to him, since blind or deaf and dumb men must want some one to guide and take care of them.
It is a sad thing not to see, or not to speak and hear; so that all boys and girls who have their sight and speech should be glad to make the best use of them. They should, while they are young, do what they are told by their friends is right tobe done, and then when they grow up they can be of great use in the world. A fool, a dunce, or a bad man does harm and not good in the world.
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Limby Lumpy was the only son of his mamma. His father was called the 'Pavior's Assistant'; for he was so large and heavy, that when he used to walk through the streets the men who were ramming the stones down with a large wooden rammer would say, 'Please to walkover these stones, sir.' And then the men would get a rest.
Limby was born on the 1st of April; I do not know how long ago; but, before he came into the world, such preparations were made. There was a beautiful cradle; and a bunch of coral, with bells on it; and lots of little caps; and a fine satin hat; and tops and bottoms for pap; and two nurses to take care of him. He was, too, to have a little chaise, when he grew big enough; after that, he was to have a donkey, and then a pony. In short, he was to have the moon for a plaything, if it could be got; and, as to the stars, he would have had them, if they had not been too high to reach.
Limby made a rare to-do when he was a little baby. But he never was alittlebaby—he was always abig baby; nay, he was a big baby till the day of his death.
'Baby Big,' his mamma used to call him; he was 'a noble baby,' said his aunt; he was 'a sweet baby,' said old Mrs. Tomkins, the nurse; he was 'a dear baby,' said his papa,—and so he was, for hecosta good deal. He was 'a darling baby,' said his aunt, by the mother's side; 'there never was such a fine child,' said everybody, before the parents; when they were at another place they called him 'a great, ugly, fat child.'
Limby was almost as broad as he was long. He had what some people called an open countenance; that is, one as broad as a full moon. He had what his mamma called beautiful auburn locks, but what other people said were carroty; not before the mother, of course.
Limby had a flattish nose and a widish mouth, and his eyes were a little out of the right line. Poor little dear, he could not help that, and therefore it was not right to laugh at him.
Everybody, however, laughed to see him eat his pap, for he would not be fed with the patent silver pap-spoon which his father bought him; but used to lay himself flat on his back, and seize the pap-boat with both hands, and never leave go of it till its contents were fairly in his dear little stomach.
So Limby grew bigger and bigger every day, till at last he could scarcely draw his breath, and was very ill; so his mother sent for three apothecaries and two physicians, who looked at him, and told his mamma there were no hopes: the poor child was dying of over-feeding.The physicians, however, prescribed for him—a dose of castor oil.
His mamma attempted to give him the castor oil; but Limby, although he liked tops and bottoms, and cordial, and pap, and sweetbread, and oysters, and other things nicely dished up, had no fancy for castor oil, and struggled, and kicked, and fought every time his nurse or mamma attempted to give it him.
'Limby, my darling boy,' said his mamma, 'my sweet cherub, my only dearest, do take its oily poily—there's a ducky, deary—and it shall ride in a coachy poachy.'
'O! the dear baby,' said the nurse, 'take it for nursey. It will take it for nursey—that it will.'
The nurse had got the oil in a silver medicine spoon, so contrived that if you could get it into thechild's mouth the medicine must go down. Limby, however, took care that no spoon should go into his mouth; and when the nurse tried the experiment for the nineteenth time, gave a plunge and a kick, and sent the spoon up to the ceiling, knocked off nurse's spectacles, upset the table on which all the bottles and glasses were, and came down whack on the floor.
His mother picked him up, clasped him to her breast, and almost smothered him with kisses. 'O! my dear boy,' said she, 'it shan't take the nasty oil—it won't take it, the darling; naughty nurse to hurt baby: it shall not take nasty physic'; and then she kissed him again.
Poor Limby, although only two years old, knew what he was at—he was trying to get the master ofhis mamma; he felt he had gained his point, and gave another kick and a squall, at the same time planted a blow on his mother's eye.
'Dear little creature,' said she, 'he is in a state of high convulsions and fever—he will never recover.'
But Limby did recover, and in a few days was running about the house, and the master of it; there was nobody to be considered, nobody to be consulted, nobody to be attended to, but Limby Lumpy.
Limby grew up big and strong; he had everything his own way. One day, when he was at dinner with his father and mother, perched upon a double chair, with his silver knife and fork, and silver mug todrink from, he amused himself by playing drums on his plate with the mug.
'Don't make that noise, Limby, my dear,' said his father. 'Dear little lamb,' said his mother, 'let him amuse himself. Limby, have some pudding?'
'No; Limby no pudding'—drum! drum! drum!
A piece of pudding was, however, put on Limby's plate, but he kept on drumming as before. At last he drummed the bottom of the mug into the soft pudding, to which it stuck, and by which means it was scattered all over the carpet.
'Limby, my darling,' said his mother; and the servant was called to wipe Limby's mug and pick the pudding up from the floor. Limby would not have his mug wiped, and floundered about, and upset thecruet-stand and the mustard on the table-cloth.
'O! Limby Lumpy; naughty boy,' said his father.
'Don't speak so cross to the child; he is but a child,' said his mother; 'I don't like to hear you speak so cross to the child.'
'I tell you what it is,' said his father, 'I think the boy does as he likes; but I don't want to interfere.'
Limby now sat still, resolving what to do next. He was not hungry, having been stuffed with a large piece of pound cake about an hour before dinner; but he wanted something to do, and could not sit still.
Presently a saddle of mutton was brought on the table. When Limby saw this he set up a crow of delight. 'Limby ride,' said he,'Limby ride'; and rose up in his chair, as if to reach the dish.
'Yes, my ducky, it shall have some mutton,' said his mamma; and immediately gave him a slice, cut up into small morsels. That was not it. Limby pushed that on the floor, and cried out, 'Limby on meat! Limby on meat!'
His mamma could not think what he meant. At last, however, his father recollected that he had been in the habit of giving him a ride occasionally, first on his foot, sometimes on the scroll end of the sofa, at other times on the top of the easy chair. Once he put him on a dog, and more than once on the saddle; in short, he had been in the habit of perching him on various things; and now Limby, hearing this was asaddleof mutton, wanted to take a ride on it.
'Limby on—Limby ride on bone,' said the child, in a whimper.
'Did youever hear?' said the father.
'What an extraordinary child!' said the mother; 'how clever to know it was like a saddle—the little dear. No, no, Limby—grease frock, Limby.'
But Limby cared nothing about a greasy frock, not he—he was used enough to that; and therefore roared out more lustily for a ride on the mutton.
'Did you ever know such a child? What a dear, determined spirit!'
'He is a child of an uncommon mind,' said his mother. 'Limby, dear—Limby, dear—silence! silence!'
The truth was, Limby made such a roaring, that neither father normother could get their dinners, and scarcely knew whether they were eating beef or mutton.
'It is impossible to let him ride on the mutton,' said his father: 'quite impossible!'
'Well, but you might just put him astride the dish, just to satisfy him; you can take care his legs or clothes do not go into the gravy.'
'Anything for a quiet life,' said the father. 'What does Limby want?—Limby ride?'
'Limby on bone!—Limby on meat!'
'Shall I put him across?' said Mr. Lumpy.
'Just for one moment,' said his mamma: 'it won't hurt the mutton.'
The father rose, and took Limby from his chair, and, with the greatest caution, held his son'slegs astride, so that they might hang on each side of the dish without touching it; 'just to satisfy him,' as he said, 'that they might dine in quiet,' and was about to withdraw him from it immediately.
But Limby was not to be cheated in that way, he wished to feel the saddleunderhim, and accordingly forced himself down upon it; but feeling it rather warmer than was agreeable, started, and lost his balance, and fell down among the dishes, soused in melted butter, cauliflower, and gravy—floundering, and kicking, and screaming, to the detriment of glasses, jugs, dishes, and everything else on the table.
'My child! my child!' said his mamma; 'O! save my child!'
She snatched him up, and pressed his begreased garments close to the bosom of her best silk gown.
Neither father nor mother wanted any more dinner after this. As to Limby, he was as frisky afterwards as if nothing had happened; and, about half an hour from the time of this disaster,cried for his dinner.