FRANK HART.
There is in this world one grief of a kind so sad that there are some who have not heard of it—there are still more who have not felt it.
This is the grief of a young child when he feels that he who ought to be his best friend—he who ought to love him more than all else love him—he who ought to soothe all his pains, and be glad at all his joys,—thathehas no thought, no care, no love for him; and what is far worse than this, who chills the pure first thoughts of a young child's mind, and turns such thoughts to pain.
Let all those who have not heard of grief so great as this, joy and be glad; but let them, while they dwell with thanks on their own lot, think and feel for the lot of poor Frank Hart.
Mr. Hart was a man who did not know therule of self. He had not been taught this rule when he was young, and when he grew up to be a man,selfhad full rule overhim.
His young ones, for he had more than Frank, felt this fault hard to bear. So great was their fear of Mr. Hart, that when he was in the room they did not dare to speak, or to laugh, or to move. Had they a book in hand, they did not dare to turn the leaves, for fear that they might be heard; nor could they leave the room, for their shoes might creak, or the door might make a noise.
Thus would these poor things sit, till (sound of joy!) the well known, and at times the long sought for sound, the push of Mr. Hart's chair, told them he would soon be gone. Then the door would shut; and no shut of door could bring more ease and joy than the shut of that.
He was gone! and these young ones, freed from such chains as few so young have felt, would rise up from their chairs and jump, in proof that theywerefree; and though they might not speak a word, each knew what was felt by all.
Frank was not so old by two years as the one next to him in age: he was but eight years old, and he did not dare to tell how great was his fear of Mr. Hart.
Frank thought that to feel as he felt must be wrong, and yet he could not help it. He thought this when he saw all boys else so glad to see the friend who was to them all that Mr. Hart ought to have been to Frank.
Frank, when he saw the rush of joy, when he heard the loud laugh of glee with which these boys were wont to greet this friend of theirs, has felt sad.
The bell that calls a child, though from its room of play to the room down stairs, that bell which is a sound so full of joy, brought no joy to poor Frank. It was a sound that he could not bear to hear, for to him it rang a knell of pain. And who can blame Frank for this? whocanwhen they know the scene to which such a bell would call him?
"Come in, Frank," said Mr. Hart one day to him, "come in: here is an egg for you."
Frank could not think that such a thing could be for him, yet hesawthe egg, and his face told how glad he was.
"Thank you," said Frank, as in great haste he took hold of the spoon.
He broke the shell with much care, and took it off bit by bit. He had just put his spoon so as to take up some of the nice white, when he found that quite as hard as he had found the shell. This was odd! but still he broke throughthat, when his spoon fell through it—it was but an egg-shell full of air!
What was poor Frank's look of woe! He gave one quick glance at Mr. Hart: such a glance it was! It said as plain as glance could say, "How can you do this to me?"
Yet the glance did not stop the loud laugh which burst forth; nor did that laugh cease till Frank had left the room, andthenit rung in his ears for a long time.
Such a child as Frank was feels a thing like this much more than he feels pain that he is made to feel when he has done wrong. Such a child as Frank wasknowswhen he has done wrong, and when he is made to feel pain for it, he thinks it is pain he ought to feel, to make him a good boy.
A child like Frank soon finds out if he is made to feel pain for his own good, or if he is made to feel it from some cross thought that may pass through the mind of some one who may not care for his good at all.
Thus Frank, who was a boy who thought a great deal, as young as he was, knew well when it was right he should be made to feel pain, and when it was done for no fault of his own.
Poor Frank! he has thought this last was the case when he has been told by Mr. Hart to snuff the light on his desk, and he has put it out.
Poor Frank! he has now and then made all dark; for when he has put out this desk light, there has been no light but the fire light to guide Mr. Hart's hand to Frank's ear. And, oh! that poor ear, how it did smart, and how loud the noise of the box did sound!
At these times Frank said not a word, nor did he shrink from the blow; but Frankthought, and his mind grew more and more full of thought.
But what most hurt Frank was, that things were done and said to him just to make him say what was queer, and then this queer thing would be told by Mr. Hart to his friends, and they would laugh at Frank.
Now Frank did not like this at all; and one night, when he had still on his mind some thing that he had said, which Mr. Hart had told, Mr. Hart all at once said to him, "Frank, wish a wish."
"I can't wish," said Frank.
"But you must wish, and you shall," said Mr. Hart.
Still Frank spoke not.
"What would you most wish to have?" said Mr. Hart.
"I don't know," said Frank.
"But you shall know—I'll make you know—you shall not go to bed till youdoknow, so speak at once."
Still Frank said not a word.
"Speak, Frank," once more said Mr. Hart: "speak, Frank, and say what you would the most wish to have, if you could have what you wish."
"I don't know," once more said Frank.
"You don't know! but I say youshallknow—you must know—I'llmakeyou know, I tell you. Go! you shall be shut up in that dark room! Go! there you shall stay, if it be all night; go!"
Frank said not a word, but did not move.
"Do you hear me?" said Mr. Hart.
Still Frank did not move.
Mr. Hart at length took him by the hand, and led him to the dark room.
This room was next to the one where they were. Mr. Hart took Frank by force, put him in, and shut the door.
And now there was poor Frank all in the dark.
The first sounds that came forth were "Oh! oh! oh!" and then a burst of tears. Soon all was still, and then there were more sobs and tears.
"Wish a wish, I tell you," once more said Mr. Hart. "Wish a wish, or you shall stay where you are all night."
"Stay! stay! stay!" said Frank. "Don't go, don't go!"
And now such a noise did he make at the door with his feet and hands that his voice could not well be heard; but through it all the scream of "Don't go, don't go!" went on.
"Good night," said Mr. Hart, when the noise was for a short time still, "good night, we all go, and we leave you there."
"Stay! oh, stay!" said Frank, in tones of woe.
"Wish a wish," said Mr. Hart, "or we are all gone."
"Oh!" said Frank, "I do wish I were in bed."
There was a loud laugh.
"You have nowtoldyour wish," said Mr. Hart, "and you may go to bed."
Frank did not stay to be toldtwice.
THE LOST ONES.
Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had two boys and one girl; their names were Paul, Charles, and Grace. They were good on the whole, but they had one fault.
Mrs. Lloyd had told them that she should not like them to go to a fair which was to be held on the tenth of June. It was now near that time, and they had a strong wish to go.
The tenth of June came, and the fair this year was most grand.
When they came to the front door, they saw such crowds of men, girls, and boys, that their wish to go was more strong than it had been.
Soon Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd went out, and left Paul, Charles, and Grace in the room. When they had been gone some time, Paul said to Grace, "Shall we take a walk?"
Grace said, "Yes, I should like to go; what do you think if we were to take a peep at the fair?"
"Oh," said Charles, "I should like that the best of all things. I will go and put on my hat."
So they went to put on their things, and out they set. Soon they came near the fair. Guess how great their joy! But how much more great would it have been if they had not felt that they had done wrong!
They saw grand shows, and stalls full of nice things. They had each of them brought half a crown; but the half-crowns were soon spent, and they would have been glad of more.
The day was far gone when they thought of home, and they were in a great fright to find that they were so far from home, and in a new road which they had not been in till then.
THE LOST ONES.THE LOST ONES.Page 108.
They were sad, and they knew, too, that they had brought this on them selves; for if they had not gone to the fair, when Mrs. Lloyd had told them not to go, this would not have been.
These thoughts were in their minds, when a Strange One, whose trade it was to tell fates, came near them, and said that if they had lost their way, she would take them home.
They told her they had been at the fair, and that they could not find their way home.
"Oh," said she, "I knew that,—you could not cheat me." She then took Grace by the hand, Paul and Charles went on first. She led them on a great way: they did not dare to speak a word, for they were in a great fright. At last she came to a place where there was a large fire, with a pot on the top of it.
"Look here," said she to a man who was there, "I have brought these young folks, who do not know their way home."
"Oh!" said the man, "let 'em sleep here."
They slept that night on a mat.
The next day the Strange One put them on some rags, and took off their own nice clothes.
When they saw what clothes they had got on, they did not like them, but they did not dare to speak.
Soon this Strange One told them to go with her, and she led them on a great way. How they did scream and cry out! "This is not the way home; I want to go home: I will go home." This Strange One could bear it no more, and she told them that she would tie up their mouths, but they did not seem to mind.
At last she did tie their mouths; and she led them on, and on, and did not stop till she came to a wild heath.
There were a few tall trees, and here and there, there were wild roots and grass. She took some string, and bound them to trees, and left them.
No more has been known of the Strange One, nor of the man, from that day to this.
Now when Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd came home and found no Paul, nor Charles, nor Grace, they were in great grief. They then thought what would be the best to be done. At last Mrs. Lloyd went to ask her friend, Mrs. Wood, who told her that she had seen them at the fair.
Mrs. Lloyd, when she heard this, had more hope, and she thought that they might soon come home. But no! the clock struck one, two, and three, and still they did not come!
When this Strange One went, Paul, and Charles, and Grace were left on the wild heath. Think what a fright they must have been in—no one near them: and no one knew where they were but this Strange One who had left them there.
At last Paul broke his string, and then he cut the strings of Charles and Grace. He took hold of their hands and led them up and down.
This heath was large and wild. Just as it was dark, great was their joy when they saw a house. It was a farm house; they went in the barn and slept all night on some straw. When day light came they got up, and went on till they came to a town.
They had not gone down the first street, when they saw their own milk-man. They ran to him at once: "Take us home," said they, "do take us home."
The milk-man did take them home.
When Mrs. Lloyd saw them—when she knew that they were safe, she could not speak a word, but her look told a great deal—theyfeltthat look, and they all said, "We have done wrong, but we will try not to do wrong more."
THE SUN.
The sun is a large world of much more size and weight than the earth and all the stars that move round it. It is by its great weight that it draws them all to it, and if they did not move fast and far in a course that takes them from the sun, all those stars that move round it with our world would be drawn to it in a short time. No one knows of what the sun is made, nor how it is that it gives so much heat and light; but most wise men think that it is a world like our own, where men can live, and not be burnt more than we are burnt by the heat of the earth. What makes the light and heat is a thing that seems strange to all. Some think that the clouds round it give out the light; that the black spots which are seen on the sun are large holes in the clouds round it, through which the sun is seen, and that the black spots are parts of the real sun. The sun shines and gives out heat to all the stars, which could not move in their orbs if the sun did not draw them to it; for they would else fly off through space.
THE DOLL'S HEAD.
Jane Thorpe was eight years old; so good had she been that Mrs. Thorpe told her she would take her to a toy shop, where she might choose the toy she would like best.
The toy shop was three or four miles from Mrs. Thorpe's house, so she rang the bell, and sent to tell the groom to bring round the coach.
THE COACH.THE COACH.Page 120.
The coach came round to the door, and great was the joy of Jane.
Yet, though Jane was so glad, she would have been more glad if Charles might have gone too. But Charles could not go; he had not been a good boy, and Mrs. Thorpe said he must stay at home.
Jane gave one look at him as she left the room to put on her things, and as she got in the coach, a tear fell down her cheek.
But on went the coach, and soon Jane thought but of the toy shop, and of what toy she would like best to have. Round and round went the wheels, and soon they were put down at the door of the toy shop.
How hard it was to choose! Yet no choice could fail to please. But choose what she would, some things must be left that she would like to have!
There was a large coach, and each horse would put on and take off. There was a man to drive, who sat on the box, and who had a long whip in his hand; and, more than all, the doors of the coach would turn back, and they would shut! There was a hay cart, and in it were three men with smock frocks; and there were some dolls in gay clothes—a great deal too smart to make hay, but they were so nice and so neat! and then all their things would take off and on, and they had large round hats on their heads.
Near this cart Jane stood a long time. At length she said, "I will choose this." But just when she said it she saw a doll—a large doll, with blue eyes and light hair. Jane thought the doll's eyes were sweet and soft, and she said, "No, no; I will not have the cart, I will have that sweet doll: do, do let me have that."
The doll, which was made of wood, was a nice strong doll, and Jane saw it put up for her to take home. She took hold of it with great care, in fear to spoil the clean white frock it had got on.
When Jane was at home, she ran up stairs to show it to Charles and to her Aunt: and her Aunt gave her some silk to make a cloak for it. Jane did her best to try to make it well, nor did it take her a long time to do this, as her Aunt cut out the parts and put them for her in the right way.
Jane then ran for her hat, and, in great joy, took her doll, and went in the lime walk.
There was a seat in this walk; and here Jane would oft spend two or three hours in the cool shade of the trees.
On this seat she sat down now, and, when she had been some time, she thought she would fix her doll on a branch of a tree. She did so; and she thought she must run and ask her Aunt just to come and look at it. The doll was left, and off she went, full of glee and song.
Where her Aunt was gone Jane did not know; she was not in the rooms down stairs, nor was she in her own room up stairs; so Jane went in all parts of the house. "Aunt! Aunt!" she said, but no Aunt could she find. This took up a great deal of time, and at length she went back to the lime walk.
Poor Jane! what a sight for you to see was there!—"My doll! my doll! O my doll!" were the first words she said, and then she sank down on the seat near the tree. And where was this doll of poor Jane's? There it was—not the doll such as she had left it, but the doll with its head cut off!
The head was hung by a string to a branch of the tree, and the rest of the doll was on the ground.
"O my doll, my dear, dear doll! who can have done so bad a thing as this? my doll! my doll!"
Just at this time her Aunt came near the lime walk. She heard the sobs of Jane, and ran fast to see what was the cause. All she said when she saw the doll was, "My dear Jane," and she gave her such a kiss as an Aunt who loves her Niececangive. And then they went back to the house.
And who had done this bad thing? That must now be told.
There was a boy whose name was John Snap; he did not live far from Broom Hill, the house of Mr. Thorpe.
John Snap was not a good boy: he was so far from it that there was no one who had a child that did not try to keep him out of the way of John Snap. Mr. Thorpe had told Charles that he would not let him play with a boy he thought so ill of.
John Snap would take birds' nests, a thing which no boy with a kind heart could do; and he would tease dogs and cats, and do things that he knew would hurt them. Now it is quite sure that no good boy could do this; for he must know that all things that have life can feel pain as much as he feels it.
All things that have life can feel pain in all parts of their frame; but there is one kind of pain which dogs, and cats, and such things as they, do not feel as man feels it—and that ispain of mind. Such pain as this is hurts much more than some pains that are felt to be hard to bear in theframeof man.
It was just such pain as this that Jane felt when she saw the head of her doll cut off. It was such pain as this that John Snap likes to give.
Though John Snap was so bad, yet he could do and say things which made boys like to be with him. There was now and then a great deal of fun in what he said, and he could make boys laugh. All boys like to laugh, and few could fail to laugh at what John Snap said.
Thus, in time, they might have been led to like him, and then they would not have thought some of the things he did so bad as they were. It was the fear of this which made Mr. Thorpe tell Charles he did not wish him to play with John Snap.
Mr. Thorpe told Charles that when John Snap spoke to him he must say what he had to say to him in a kind way, but that he must leave him as soon as he could.
Now it was not right of Charles Thorpe to go to John Snap's house, nor ought he to have gone out with him to play at trap and ball, for he knew that it was wrong to do so. This was the cause why he could not go with Jane to the toy shop. He was kept at home for a week, and told not to go past the sunk fence.
John Snap had not seen him for six days, so he thought he would go and call at Broom Hill. When he got there, he did not go to the house, but took a walk down the lime walk. This was just at the time when Jane was gone; and when he came to the seat near the tree he saw the doll. What hedidmay now be told.
Yes! it was John Snap who had done this deed. At noon, as soon as it was done, he went close to a tree, so that he could not be seen. He did this that he might see what Jane would do when she came back, and hear what she would say.
He heard and saw all; but when he found how great was Jane's grief, he kept quite close to the tree, and did not dare to move till she was gone. He then went home as fast as he could, and great was his hope that no one would know that it was he who had cut off the poor doll's head.
Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe, and Jane's Aunt too, thought that this was like some of John Snap's tricks, but they did not wish to say so to Jane or to Charles. Jane's Aunt had a plan which she thought would be the means to find out if he had done this or not.
One day Charles was sent to ask John Snap to dine at Broom Hill.
John was glad to go; but he felt he should not like to see Jane, for she might talk of her doll; and if she should talk of it, he thought that he might say or do that which might tell what he had done. Yet John Snap went to dine at Broom Hill.
Now there was one thing of which John Snap was most fond, and this thing was fruit tart. The fruit tarts at Broom Hill were so sweet, and the crust was so light!
The day on which John Snap went to dine at Broom Hill the fruit tart was put near where he sat. How nice and large it was! and how good it smelt too! He thought the time was long till the time came for the tart to be cut.
"It will soon be cut now," thought he. But this dish came, and that dish went, yet still the fruit tart was not cut. He said, "No thank you," to all, for he thought but of the tart.
At length all the things were gonebutthe tart. "That won't go, I hope," thought John; and great was his joy when he heard Mr. Thorpe say in a loud clear tone, "John Snap, willyouplease to cut that tart?"
John, in great haste to do what he was told, took up the spoon—but the crust would not break: there was some hard thing, and the spoon would not go through the crust. One, twice, three times did he try. "Put a knife round the edge of the dish and clear off the crust," said Mr. Thorpe; "wemustcome to the fruit."
John Snap did so. He put a knife round the edge of the dish, and all the crust came off at once. And what was there in that dish?
A dolls head!
Jane gave a loud scream, and John Snap made a rush to the door.
He was out of the room, but he heard Jane say, "It washewho did it! it washewho did it! My poor doll!"
The tone of Jane's voice, as she said this, made John go back. He could not bear to hear her. "Jane! Jane!" he said, "that doll's head will be the means to make me a good boy. I feel I could be good. I feel some thing that tells me so. I grieve for what I have done—I feel grief of such a kind as I have not felt till now."
Jane saw his face. When she saw his face, it told her so much that she said, "I will think of this no more."
PLAY NOT WITH FIRE.
Mr. and Mrs. Green had two girls, and their names were Kate and Anne. Kate was ten and Anne was eight years old.
THE DANGER OF FIRE.THE DANGER OF FIRE.Page 143.
It made Mrs. Green quite sad to think that she could not cure them of one bad fault; this fault was that they would play with fire.
All she said was of no use, for they would do it. Though she bought them books, and dolls, and all things that were nice, to play with, still fire was the thing they would play with. They would get a long piece of straw and set it on fire, and say it was a torch; and they went with these straws up and down stairs, and said they were in mines.
When Mrs. Green saw them do so she would scold them, and put them on chairs, or send them to bed, and did all she could to break them of it, but still they did not mind, and in a short time they would do the same.
Once one of the straws dropt and set their work on fire; and it might have done much harm, had not the maid just then come in to put on some coals. She threw the rug on the blaze, and put it out.
One day Mr. and Mrs. Green went out for a walk, and, as they could not take Kate and Anne with them, they were left in the house. When Mrs. Green left the house, she told them to mind not to touch the fire, and that, if they were good and did not touch it, she would bring them a nice toy.
Kate and Anne were glad at the time, but as soon as she was gone, they went down to the dog's house, which was full of straw, and each got some nice long straws. Then they went up stairs to pull down the blinds, to make it, as they said, seem more like a real mine. They then put long straws in the fire to light, and went with them up and down the room.
Kate bent some straws, and made them go round and round, and said they were squibs; Anne did the same; and they did this for more than half an hour.
They found that to do this did not burn them, as Mrs. Green had told them it would do, and they did not know why she did not like them to do it. This made them more bold, and they did it still more.
And at last Anne's frock caught fire,—and how it did blaze up!
She ran up and down the room, and did not know what to do, she was in so much fear. Kate went to her to try to put out the blaze; then she, too, caught fire, and not one of them had the sense to roll on the rug.
Their cries brought up the maid, who wrapt them in the rug, which soon put out the fire; but when she took them out, what was her grief to see how they were burnt! Kate was not so much burnt as Anne, but still she was so sore that she could not stand; and so loud were their screams, that the maid thought that they would scream till they were dead. Great was their pain, and the maid put them in bed.
As soon as they were in bed Mr. and Mrs. Green came home from their walk. They were most sad when they saw the state in which Kate and Anne were; and still more sad were they to think that they had been at the fire, when Mrs. Green had told them not to go there.
She had brought Kate a book, and Anne a nice wax doll, as she thought to have found them good when she came home.
Both Kate and Anne felt a great deal of pain, and they were ill for a long time.
When they were well, poor Anne's face was not at all what it had been—it was full of large scars and deep marks, that would not come out; and when she went to look in the glass, she gave a loud scream. How much did she wish she had not gone to the fire when she had been told not to so!
Poor Kate! the black mark on her hand gave her a great deal of pain, and when it was well she could not bear to look at it, for it brought to her mind what she had done.
They could not bear to see a large blaze, or to go near the fire, nor to warm their hands when they were cold.
Once when Mr. Green let off some squibs, they could not bear to see them, for it brought to their minds the time when they had been so much burnt.
ONE FAULT LEADS TO A WORSE ONE.
John Gay was eight years old. He was not a good boy, for he now and then told what was not true, and that is not right, for all boys and girls should speak the truth.
One day when his Aunt was in the room, John came in, and he saw her with a plum cake in her hand. She told him when she left the room, that he must not touch. He said, "No, Aunt; I will not touch it."
When his Aunt had been some time gone, John thought, "Well, if I were to take a bit of cake, my Aunt would not miss it from such a large cake as this is: yet it seems to me not to be quite right to take it."
But this boy (sad to say!)didtake a piece, and he found it so good that he thought he would take a piece more. Hedidtake some more; and he took piece by piece, and piece by piece, till he had made the cake quite small.
When he had done this, he knew that he had done wrong, and he felt sad. He went in his own room. He knew that the time must come when his Aunt would find it out.
He was sure that his Aunt would scold him if she knew; but he thought if he told her he had not done it she would think that he told the truth.
With these thoughts in his mind, he heard a knock at the door. He knew that it was his Aunt, so he made haste to come down stairs. He did not go in the room where the plum cake was, but he went in the next room. He took up a book, but he could not read, for his thoughts were too full of what he had done.
Soon his Aunt came in with the plum cake in her hand. "John," said she, "look at this cake: when I went out it was quite large, and now look at it!"
John said, "I do not know of it: how should I?"
She then rang; the bell: "Ann," said she as the maid came in the room, "do you know what has made the cake in this state? Call the cook, and ask her."
The cook said the same as Ann had said, that "she did not know of it."
When they were gone, his Aunt said to John, "It can be no one but you who have done this. I left you in the room with this cake, and told you not to touch it, and now, when I am come back, I find it in this state."
John could not speak a word, for he felt that he had done wrong. His Aunt saw this, and told him to go to bed.
When he was in bed he thought what a bad boy he had been, and how wrong it was for him to have told his Aunt what was not true. He thought that when he got up he would go and tell his Aunt how wrong he had been, and that he would do so no more.
John did as he thought he would do. His Aunt told him that if he was a good boy for a month, no more should be said of it.
Hewasa good boy for a month; but for a long time past the month, when John saw plum cake, a flush of shame came on his face.
WHAT A PRICE FOR A BOX!
Rose Wood was in want of six pence. She had seen a box that she had a great wish to buy; and she thought that if she had but six pence, which was the price of that box, she should not have a want for a long time.
Rose would stand close to the shop, near a pane of glass through which she could see this box, and each time she saw it the more strong was her wish to have it for her own.
So much did Rose think of it that it might be said she had not a wish but what was shut up in that box.
"What shall I do for six pence?" said Rose one day; "that box will cost but six pence, and if I had six pence it would be my own."
"Why," said Mark Wood, "if you will sell your self to me, I will give you six pence."
"Sell my self! yes, that I will," said Rose. "Give me six pence, and I will sell my self at once."
"But," said Mark, "do you know that when I have bought you, you will be my child, and that you must do all that I bid you do?"
"Oh! Iwilldo all: I don't care what you bid me do, if I may but have the six pence to buy that box."
The six pence were hers, and the box was bought; but, poor Rose! you had to pay a great price for it.
With what joy she ran home box in hand!
"Look at it, look at it, Mark! This box is mine now; do just look at it. Do just look at this glass at the top: I can see my face in it, and I can see some of the things that are in the room. In the box I mean to keep small sweet cakes; and, Mark, I am sure I shall give you some, for you have been so kind to let me have the six pence. Oh, Mark, I do thank you so much."
"Stop, Rose, stop!" said Mark, "and do not thank me for the six pence till you know what I mean you to do for it. The first thing I shall tell you to do is, 'Put down the box.'"
"Put down the box!" said Rose: "not yet:—why must I put down the box?"
"Why! I tell you to do so; you are my child now, and must do what I bid you."
Poor Rose!
"But I may play with the box? I must and will play with my nice new box; that you will let me do."
"No, Rose," said Mark, "I can let you play with it no more. You must come with me; I mean to send you out to find some cress, and then you must go and try to sell it. Come, I shall put you on this hat of old Bet's, and you must wear this old shawl, and you must tuck up your frock, and go out to find the cress."
"Oh dear! oh dear!" said Rose; "you do not mean that I should do this?"
"But I do mean it, and you must go at once."
Mark put on the hat and the shawl for her. She was quite still, and said not a word. Mark then took hold of her hand and led her to a field near the house, and told her she must not come back till she had got as much nice cress as would sell for two pence. He then shut the gate of the field, and left poor Rose by her self.
At first she did not move, so strange did it seem to her that she should be left thus.
Soon she sat down on a bank. When she had been there some time she got up.
"How queer this is!" said she; "but it is all fun:" yet the laugh with which she said this was soon acry.
Rose was a girl not soon cast down; all that she had to do or to bear, she did her best to do and to bear it well. She took a walk up and down the field, and at last she thought, "Well, I might as well try and see if I can find some cress;" and then she ran up and down till she had got a great way from the house.
No cress could she find, so she thought she would turn back and go home. But just when she had thought this, she saw on a pond, at the foot of the long slope on which she stood, some bright green weed, that she thought was cress. Off she set down the slope as fast as she could run, and she ran so fast that she could not stop till she came to the end. When she did stop she could not move.
THE POND.THE POND.Page 168.
Rose was deep in the pond—it came up as far as her throat! There she stuck quite fast, and there she might have stuck for hours, had not her cries been heard by Mark, who, though not seen, had not lost sight of her since the time she had left the house.
Mark, who was now in great fear, ran as fast as feet could run to the place where the head of Rose was to be seen on the pond, like a float on the top of green weeds. When Mark came to the slope, he went down it with care, lest the fate of Rose should be his.
The screams of Rose were loud: "I shall sink! I shall sink deep, deep down! Oh, help me! help me!" She then saw Mark: "Mark! Mark!" she said; "fast! fast! pray, pray come fast." Mark was now at the edge of the pond. "Raise up your arms," said he; "raise up your arms, and take fast hold of my hand."
The mud and slime were so thick that poor Rose found it hard to raise up her arms. Yet she did so, and caught hold of Mark's hand with such force that he, too, would have been in the pond had he not made a quick step back.
When Rose had got a firm grasp, Mark, with all the strength he had, did what he could to drag her out. At length shewasout: she stood at the edge of the pond, her clothes thick with mud and slime; and such a weight she was, that she could not move fast.
Poor Mark stood by her side, his face quite pale with the fright he had had. They went up the slope as well as they could. When they were near home, just at the gate which led out of the last field, they were met by Mr. Wood. What must Mr. Wood have thought to see Rose in that strange state, and with such a queer hat on her head?
"Rose," he said, and the tone of his voice was a cross tone; "Rose, how is this? where can you have been, and how is it that I see you thus?"
"O Sir," said Mark, "do not scold Rose, do not scold Rose; it is all my fault, and all the blame must be mine." Mark then told Mr. Wood how Rose had sold her self to him for six pence, and what he had made her do when he had bought her.
"Go in the house, Rose," said Mr. Wood; "go to bed at once; what I have to say to you must not be said now."
Rose did not dare to hold up her head as she went through the hall. She felt much shame when the maid came to take off her clothes and to wash her. Rose saw the maid laugh, andthatshe did think was hard to bear, but she did not say a word.
Now Mr. Wood was a man who had a great deal of good sense, and when his boy or girl had done what was wrong, it was his wish that the cure should be wrought by their own sense of right and wrong. He thought that the shame they felt from the sense of wrong would be the best cure they could have. He did all he could to make themfeelin what they had done wrong, and when he was sure they felt this he was sure they would do so no more.
Now Mark was wrong to have let Rose have the six pence; and what made it the more wrong was that he knew Mrs. Wood had once told Rose she did not wish her to buy the box she had so great a wish to buy, for she thought the glass at the top would soon break, and that Rose might be cut by it. Mr. Wood did not say much to Mark, for he saw that he felt a great deal. But he told Mark it was his wish that the pond scene should be felt by Rose, and that it should be made the means to cure her of her worst fault.
This fault was, that when Rose had a strong wish to have a thing she thought she should like to have, she would not hearno.
The morenowas said, the more did she wish to have the thing to which it was said. This had just been the case with the box. Mrs. Wood had said no two, three, and four times, and each time that thenowas said, the wish foryeshad been more strong.
The next day, when Rose came down stairs, she did not raise up her eyes. Mr. Wood told her that as she had sold her self to Mark, he should leave her to his charge for three days, and in that time she must do all that Mark told her, and that she would have to do much she would not like.
"Oh, Sir," said Rose, "buy me back! do buy me back!"
"Not yet," said Mr. Wood, "but if you do all that Mark bids you do for three days, and if you do your best to try to put a check on the fault which has been the cause of all this, why, then Iwillbuy you back."
The first day Rose did try as much as she could; but it was all she could do not to cry when Mark told her to do things: "Youtell me, Mark!—why should I do what you tell me?" and then she would think of thecauseof that why, and she would hang down her head and blush.
The last of the three days was come, and on this day Rose felt light of heart. Once she went to the place where the box had been put; she took it up and said, "This box is mine—I shall not lose this." She took off the lid, and just then she heard some one at the door. In great haste to put back the box, her foot slipt, and down she fell. In the fall the glass lid broke, and a piece of the glass stuck in her lip. The blood came in streams. Her cries were loud, and Mrs. Wood, who heard them, ran in great fear to know the cause.
It was a sad deep gash, and poor Rose was faint with pain and fright.
So deep was the wound, that for ten days Rose could not put food in her mouth; what food she took came through the spout of a tea-pot. Rose could not speak nor laugh: she had a great deal of pain to bear, and she did all she could to bear it well.
Mark would sit near her, and watch her, and read to her; and he would look so sad at times! When he was sad, Rose would do what she could to make her pain seem less than it was; but Rose's mouth could not prove the kind smile that was in her heart.
It was a long time ere Rose was quite well. Years are now flown in the stream of time since the day when Rose cut her lip.
The mark left by the cut is on her lip still. There it will be as long as she lives; and when she has a wish for that which she knows she ought not to have, that mark tells her totake care.
THE END.
CAMDEN PRESS, LONDON.