Henry's garden was beautiful; there was not the smallest bit of it buthad some pretty flower or fruit-tree growing in it: every part wasblooming and sweet; and his two brothers discovered, when too late, thatwithout perseverance and steadiness, nothing can be accomplished, andthat unless they came to a determination to follow the good exampletheir brother Henry set before them on this occasion, as on all others,their minds would, like their garden, be uncultivated and waste.
THE WHIMSICAL CHILD.
Mr. and Mrs. Clermont invited their little niece, Elizabeth Sinclair, tospend a month with them in the country. Mr. Clermont was extremely fondof children, but his partiality to their company never extended to anywho had been improperly and foolishly indulged, and were whimsical anddiscontented; and had he known that his sister had suffered her littlegirl to have those disagreeable qualities, he never would have asked herto his house; but he had been two years abroad, and knew nothing ofher.
The day on which she was expected, her uncle and aunt went to meet her,and were very much pleased with her appearance, as well as theaffectionate manner in which she returned the caresses they bestowedupon her. She was extremely pretty, had fine teeth, fine hair, and abeautiful complexion; and Mr. Clermont said to his wife, "I shall bedelighted to have this sweet little creature with me, and to shew all myfriends what a charming niece I have." But he was not long in changinghis opinion, and very soon discovered that her beauty, much as he hadthought of it, did not prevent her being the most disagreeable girl hehad ever met with.
She was no sooner in the house than she complained of being too warm,then too cold, and a minute after, too warm again--too tired to sit up,yet not choosing to go to bed--wishing for some tea, and then not likingany thing but milk and water--now drinking it without sugar, thendesiring to have some, and, after saying she never supped, bursting intotears because she was going to be sent to bed without supper.
"I perceive I was mistaken," said Mr. Clermont; "this _sweet littlecreature_ will be a pretty torment to us, if we permit her to have herown way; but I shall put a stop to it immediately."
Accordingly, the next day at dinner, he asked her if she would be helpedto some mutton, but she refused it, saying she never could eat any thingroasted. "Then, my dear," replied Mr. Clermont, "here is a boiledpotatoe for you; eat that, for you will have nothing else."
Elizabeth was extremely disconcerted, and thought, if she had been athome, her mamma would have ordered half a dozen different things forher, rather than suffer her to eat any thing she disliked, or to dineupon potatoes. She made a very bad dinner, and was cross and out ofhumour the whole evening.
The next day at table Mr. Clermont offered to help her to some boiledlamb; but Elizabeth, according to her usual custom of never liking whatwas offered to her, said she could not eat lamb when it was boiled. "SoI expected," said Mr. Clermont, "and (taking off the cover from a smalldish which was placed next to him) here are some _roasted_ potatoes,which I have provided on purpose, fearing you might not happen to likethe rest of the dinner."
Elizabeth began to cry bitterly, but her uncle paid no kind of attentionto her tears, only saying that if she preferred a basin of water-gruel,she should have some made in an instant. She was extremely hungry(having quarrelled with her breakfast, and had nothing since), andperceiving that her tears were not likely to produce any good effect,was glad to dine very heartily on lamb and spinage, and to eat somecurrant tart, which she had said she could not bear even the smell of.She insisted, however, on returning to her mamma immediately, saying shewould not stay any longer in a house where she was in danger of beingstarved, and was sure her mamma would be very angry if she knew how shewas treated.
"I am sorry to inform you, my dear niece," said Mr. Clermont, "that youmust endeavour to put up with it at least a month or six weeks, for yourmamma is gone into Wales on business of consequence, and will not be athome to receive you till that time is expired."
This was sad news for Elizabeth; she was extremely unhappy, and wished athousand times she had never quitted her own home, where she wasindulged in all her whims, and where every one's time was employed intrying to please and amuse her; "And now," thought she, "on thecontrary, I never have any thing I like, and my uncle appears to takepleasure in teazing and vexing me from morning to night." Finding,however, that she must either eat what was provided for her, or sufferhunger, and conscious that she had no _real_ dislike to any thing inparticular, though she had a great pleasure in plaguing every body abouther, she thought it advisable to submit, and consequently dinedextremely well every day, whether the meat was roasted or boiled, stewedor fried.
One day, when she was going with her uncle and aunt to take a walk tothe next village, a poor miserable woman, with a child in her arms, andfollowed by two others, met them at the gate, and begged, for God'ssake, they would take pity upon her and her helpless infants, who shesaid had not tasted food since the foregoing day.
Cold meat and bread being immediately brought out to them, both thewoman and her children seized upon it with so much eagerness, that theymight really be believed to be almost famished.
Mr. Clermont desired Elizabeth would observe them attentively, and,after making her take particular notice of the joy with which the poorpeople were feasting on the scraps that came from their table, asked herif she thought she ever again could, without being guilty of a dreadfulsin, despise, as she frequently had done, and refuse to eat of thewholesome and plentiful food which, through the great goodness of God,her friends were enabled to provide for her.
Elizabeth was struck with her uncle's words, and with the sight beforeher; she felt that she had, by her ingratitude and unthankfulness toGod, rendered herself very undeserving of the comforts he had bestowedupon her, and of which the poor children she was then looking at stoodso much in need; and she never, from that day, was heard to find faultwith any thing, but prayed that she might in future deserve acontinuance of such blessings.
EDWARD AND CHARLES.
Mr. Spencer sent for his two sons, Edward and Charles, into his closet;he took each of them by the hand, and drawing them affectionatelytowards him, told them he was going to undertake a long journey, that hehoped they would be very good boys during his absence, obedient anddutiful to their mamma, and never vex or teaze her, but do every thingshe wished them to do; he also desired them to be kind to poor Ben, andto recollect, that, though his face was black, he was a very good boy,and that God would love him, whilst he continued to behave well, just asmuch as if his skin were as white as theirs, and much more than he wouldeither of them, unless they were equally deserving of his love, as blackBen had rendered himself by his good-natured and amiable disposition.
Edward and Charles both promised their papa that they would do everything he desired, but they were not _both_ equally sincere: Edward couldwith difficulty hide his joy, when his papa told him he was going fromhome, for he was a very naughty boy, and had no inclination to obey anybody, but to be his own master, and do as he liked, to get into allkinds of mischief, and kick and cuff poor Ben whenever he pleased.
Thinking, however, it would be proper to appear sorry for what he was,in reality, extremely glad of, and seeing poor Charles take out hishandkerchief to wipe away his tears, when he was taking leave of hispapa, he pulled out his also; but it was not to wipe his eyes, but tohide his smiles, for he was so happy at the thought of all the tricks hecould play, without having any one to control him, that he was afraidhis joy would be perceived, and his hypocrisy detected.
Mrs. Spencer's health was so indifferent, that she seldom quitted herapartment, so that she knew very little of the behaviour of her sons.Edward, as soon as he had breakfasted, usually took his hat, and wentout without telling any one where he was going, or when he shouldreturn.
One day, when he was gone away in this manner, and Charles was leftquite alone, he went up stairs to his mamma, and asked her leave to takea walk in the fields; and away he went with his favourite dog, for hehad no other company, and he
said, "Come along, Trimbush, let us take aramble together; my brother always quarrels and fights with me, but Iknow you will not, my poor Trimbush: here, my poor old fellow, here is apiece of bread which I saved from my breakfast on purpose for you."
Charles had not walked very far, before he thought he heard Ben crying;and thinking it very probable that his brother was beating him, he wentas fast as he possibly could towards the place whence the sound came.There he found poor black Ben with a load of faggots upon his back,almost enough to break it, and Edward whipping him because he cried, andsaid they were too heavy.
Charles began immediately to unload the poor boy; but Edward said, if heattempted to do so, he would break every bone in his skin: he was,however, not to be frightened from his good-natured and humaneintention, and therefore continued to take off the faggots, telling hisbrother, that if he came near to prevent him, he would try which hadmost strength; and as Edward was a great coward, and never attempted tostrike any body but the poor black boy, who dared not return the blow,he thought it proper to walk away, and leave his brother to do as heliked. When they met afterwards, and Charles offered to shake hands withhim, saying he was sorry for what he had said to him, and begged theymight be good friends, he appeared very willing to forget what hadpassed, and assured him he forgave him with all his heart; but his wholethoughts were employed in finding out some way to be revenged on hisbrother, and he had soon an opportunity of doing what might have costhim his life, though it is to be hoped he was not quite wicked enoughto desire it.
Walking one morning by the side of the river, he begged Charles to getinto a little boat which lay close to the shore, to look for a sixpencewhich he pretended to have left in it, and began to sob and cry, becausehe was afraid he had lost his money. Charles, who was always glad tooblige his brother, jumped into the boat with the utmost readiness, butin an instant the wicked Edward, having cut the rope by which it wasfastened, away it went into the middle of the river, and no one can tellwhither it might have been driven, or what terrible accident might havehappened, if the wind had been high, and had not the good affectionateBen stripped off his clothes, and plunged into the river to go toCharles's assistance.
Ben could swim like a fish, and was soon within reach of the boat,which, by getting hold of the end of the rope, he brought near enoughto the shore for Charles to jump out on a bank.
Edward fancied, that, as his mamma knew nothing of his tricks, and as hewas certain Charles was too good-natured to tell tales, his papa wouldnever hear of them: but he was very much mistaken. Old Nicholls, thebutler, had observed his behaviour, and as soon as his master returned,took the first opportunity of telling him of every thing which hadpassed in his absence.
Mr. Spencer now recollected that he had been much to blame in keepinghis sons at home, and determined to send them both to schoolimmediately: he observed, however, that they were not equally deservingof kindness and indulgence, and that it would be proper and just to makeEdward feel how much he was displeased by the accounts he had receivedof his conduct: he was therefore sent to a school at a considerabledistance from home, so far off, that he neither came home at Christmasnor Whitsuntide, nor saw any of his friends from one year to the other;he was not allowed to have any pocket money, for his papa said he wouldonly make an ill use of it; nor had he ever any presents sent him of anykind.
Charles was only twenty miles from his father's house, and was always athome in the holidays: he had a great many things given to him on newyear's day, and his papa brought him a little poney that he might rideabout the park; and he always let poor Ben have a ride with him, for heloved him very much; and Ben, who was a grateful, kind-hearted boy, didnot forget how many times Charles had saved him from his wicked brother,and would have done any thing in the world to give him pleasure.
THE TRUANT.
"What will become of us to-morrow?" exclaimed a boy at M---- school, tolittle George Clifton, as they were undressing to go to bed. "I am sofrightened, that I shall not be able to close my eyes."
George, who was very sleepy, and had no inclination to be disturbed,scarcely attended to what he was saying; but, on being asked how _he_thought to get off, and how _he_ should relish a good sound flogging, ifhe could not excuse himself, he thought it time to inquire into hismeaning, and was informed that some of the boys had that evening beenrobbing the master's garden, that they had taken away all the fruit,both ripe and unripe, and had trodden down and destroyed every thing.
George said he was very sorry for it, but he had no fears on his ownaccount, for he could prove that he had drank tea and spent the wholeevening at his aunt's, and was but just returned before their hour ofgoing to bed; but Robert assured him, that all he could say would availhim nothing, and that he was very certain he would not be believed; andmoreover, that the master had declared, as he could not discover theoffenders he would punish the whole school: "And for my part," saidRobert, "I am determined not to stay here, to suffer for what I do notdeserve. I can easily slip out of this window into the yard, and at thedawn of day I intend to set off; and shall be many miles from M----,when you are begging in vain for forgiveness of your hard-heartedmaster."
George, who, though a good boy in other respects, had a very greatdislike to the trouble of learning any thing, and had been sent toschool much against his inclination, thought this an excellentopportunity of leaving it, and had no doubt, but having such amelancholy story to recount of the injustice of his master, added to themany hardships he fancied he had already endured on differentoccasions, he should be able to prevail upon his papa to keep him athome; and imagined, that, when he grew up to be a man, he should, bysome means or other, have as much learning and knowledge as otherpeople, without plaguing himself with so many books and lessons. Roberthad therefore very little difficulty in persuading him to accompany him,which he had no reason to wish for, but that he knew he had always agood deal of pocket-money, which he hoped to get possession of, andcared very little, if once he could carry that point, what became ofpoor George. He knew him to be quite innocent, and also that the masterwas well acquainted with the names of the boys who had done themischief, and consequently had no thought of punishing the wholeschool; but he was a wicked boy, had been the chief promoter of therobbery, long tired of confinement, and determined to run away. At fouro'clock in the morning they got out of the window into the yard, jumpedover a low wall, and were soon several miles from the school.
Poor little George began, before it was long, to grow very tired; he washungry also, and had nothing to eat. Robert asked him if he had anymoney, and said he would soon procure him something to eat, if he wouldgive him the means of paying for it; but the moment he had got hislittle purse in his hand, he told him that he must now wish him a goodmorning; that he was not such a fool as to go home to get ahorsewhipping for having run away from school, but should go immediatelyto Portsmouth, where he should find ships enough ready to sail fordifferent parts of the world, and would go to sea, which was, he said,the pleasantest life in the world; and making him a very low bow, he setoff immediately across the fields towards the high road, and was out ofsight in an instant.
George began to cry bitterly; he now repented having listened to thiswicked boy's advice, and would have returned to school if he could; buthe did not know the way back again, and, if he had known it, would havebeen afraid to see his master. He wandered on the whole long day,without seeing any body who thought it worth their while to stop tolisten to his tale; and at length, towards the close of evening, quiteill for want of eating, and so tired that he could no longer stand, heseated himself by the side of a brook, and leaning his head upon hishand, sobbed aloud.
An old peasant returning from his labour, and passing that way, stoppedto look at him, and perceiving that he was in much distress, went up tothe place where he was sitting, and inquired kindly what ailed him.
"I am a naughty boy," said George, "and do not deserve that you shouldtake notice of me."--"When naughty boys confess their faults, they arem
ore than half cured of them," replied the old peasant. "Whatever youhave done, I am sure you repent of it, and I will take care of you."
He then took him by the hand, and led him to his cottage, which was verynear, and where he found an old woman spinning near the window, and ayoung one sitting with two pretty little girls and a boy, whom she wasteaching to read: they had each a book in their hand, and were soattentive to their lessons, that they scarcely looked up when the doorwas opened.
"There," said the old peasant, "sits my good wife, this is my daughter,and these are her children: we are poor people, and cannot afford tospend much money on their education, but they are very good, andendeavour to learn what they can from their mother, and get theirlessons ready against the hour they go to school in the morning, thatthey may make the most of their time, and not rob their parents bybeing idle."
"Rob their parents!" exclaimed George. "Yes, rob them," replied the oldman. "Would it not be robbing their father and mother, if they allowedthem to squander their money upon them in paying for their schooling tono purpose?"
George wiped the tears from his eyes, and said he was afraid he was avery bad boy; but he was sorry for it, and would endeavour to mend, ifhis papa could be prevailed on to pardon what was past. He then told theold man all that had happened, and how the wicked Robert had enticed himto run away from school; but he was so hungry, and so fatigued, that hecould hardly speak or hold up his head. The young woman gave him alarge bowl of milk and bread, and put him into a neat, clean bed, wherehe slept soundly till eight o'clock the next morning, when, after acomfortable breakfast, the good peasant accompanied him to his father'shouse, and said so much in his favour, and of the sorrow he had shewnfor his ill behaviour, that he was immediately forgiven.
A cup of sweets, that can never cloy: or, delightful tales for good children Page 4