Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  And Edward said, “My heap is taller than yours; but it is not so closely squeezed together; and that makes a great difference.” And his father said, “Frank, my large bit of sugar is twice as big as your largest bit.”

  “O no, indeed, papa; I measured them, and they are exactly the same size; put yours upon mine, and you shall see. Look, papa — not the least corner or crumb difference.”

  1 “They are of the same length and breadth, acknowledge,” said his father; “but they are not of the same thickness.”

  “O, thickness! I never thought of thickness.”

  “But you should think of it,” said his father; “because, look here; if I was to cut my bit of sugar, which is twice as thick as yours, into two slices, each of those slices would be as long, and as broad, and as thick, as your bit is now, and I should have two bits of the same size as yours — twice as much as you.”

  “Ah! so you would; thickness does make a great difference. Then, how shall I manage? for if I begin to cut the sugar, in your way, in slices — Look, papa, it all crumbles. Indeed, the crumbs are the most easily divided. I will crumble it all, and then divide the crumbs amongst you; and then I shall have no difficulty about the thickness.” So Frank pounded the sugar with a spoon, till it was all become a fine powder; and then he divided it into heaps; but still people did not agree that his heaps were all of the same size.

  “We can measure them,” said Frank; and he put one of the heaps into a tea-spoon; it did not quite fill the spoon. Another of the heaps filled the spoon higher than the brim. Another was exactly a spoonful.

  Frank added to one heap, and took from another.

  “You squeeze the sugar in the spoon, and tint will make more go in than there should,” said Henry.

  “Indeed! indeed!” said Frank, “it cannot be divided more exactly; it is impossible to divide the sugar more exactly than I have done it now; is not it, mamma?”

  “I cannot say that it is impossible to divide it more exactly,” said his mother, smiling; “but, as far as I can guess, by looking at your heaps, they seem to be of the same size. I cannot, however, be sure, merely by looking at them, that they contain exactly equal quantities.”

  “How, then, could you be sure? I do not feel any difference, mamma. Perhaps I could find out by weighing them in a pair of scales. — Papa, will you be so good as to lend me the scales in which you were weighing — money, T believe, yesterday?”

  “No, my dear,” said his father; “the saucers of those-scales are made of brass; and you must not put any thing that you are going to eat near brass, because the rust of brass is poisonous. I will lend you another pair of scales, which are made of ivory; and in these you may weigh your sugar.

  —— Go for these scales; they are upon the table that is on the right-hand side of the window in my study. — As you are used to find your way about the house in the dark, you will readily find what you want.” Frank found the scales, and weighed his heaps of sugar very carefully. He was surprised to find that there was so much difference in the weight of the heaps, which he thought were exactly of the same size. By patiently adding and taking away, he at last, however, made them each of the same weight; and every body was then satisfied with the accuracy of his division.

  “Now, Frank, eat your own share of cake, and drink this dish of tea, which has grown quite cold whilst you have been dividing and weighing,” said his mother. And whilst Frank and his brothers were eating their shares of plum-cake, Frank’s father said that, if they pleased, he would read a short story to them. The boys said that they should like to hear a story; and the story that he read was out of Sandford and Merton — Cyrus’s judgment about the two coats.

  One day, Frank went with his mother to a shop in a town: it was a shop where gloves, and ribands, and caps, and hats, were sold. His mother, after she had bought some gloves which she wanted, went into a little room behind the shop, to see a poor girl, who was ill.

  “Frank,” said his mother, “stay in this shop till I come back again.”

  Frank staid in the shop; and whilst he was there, a carriage stopped at the door; and a lady got out of the carriage and came into the shop where Frank was; she asked to look at some ribands; and whilst the shop-man was looking in some little drawers for ribands, the lady turned to look at Frank, and said, “Does this little boy belong to you?” meaning the shop-keeper.

  “O, no, ma’am; he belongs to a lady who is just gone into the next room;” and the shop-keeper mentioned the name of Frank’s mother.

  The moment the lady heard this, she smiled at Frank, called him to her, kissed him, and told him he was a charming little creature. She then asked him several questions; and Frank was pleased by her smiling at him, and praising him; and he began to talk to her; and then she said he was the finest boy she had ever seen in her life; and he liked her still better.

  She was rolling up some riband in a paper upon which some words were printed; and she asked him whether he could read any of those words.—”O, yes,” said Frank; and he read, “Sarsnets, modes, and peelings; the most fashionable assortment.”

  The lady stopped his mouth by kissing him; and she told him he was a very clever little fellow, indeed.

  Frank thought he should appear to her still cleverer, if he repeated the pretty verses he had learned by heart. “O, what a memory he has! I never heard any thing so well repeated!” exclaimed the lady.

  Frank went on to tell the history of his having cured himself of the trick of buttoning and unbuttoning his coat; and he told her, that his father had given him a book; and he repeated, word for word, what his father had written at the beginning of this book.

  To all this the lady listened with a smiling countenance and Frank was going on talking about himself, when his mother came out of the room at the back of the shop; and she called Frank, and took him home with her.

  The next day, his mother, who usually let Frank read to her a little every day, told him that he might bring his book to her and read; but he made several mistakes, and his mother said, “Frank, you are not minding what you are about this morning.”

  Frank read on, more carefully; and when he had read about half a page without making any mistake, he stopped short, and said to his mother, “But, mamma, you do not praise me as the lady in the shop did.”

  “I do not flatter you, my dear,” said his mother.

  “What is flattering me, mamma?”

  “Flattering you, my dear, is praising you more than you deserve to be praised.”

  “Did the lady in the shop flatter me, mamma?”

  “I do not know; for I was not by; I did not hear what she said.”

  “She said — I feel, mamma, I do not know why, ashamed to tell you all she said to me. She said I was a charming little creature, and that I was the finest boy she had ever seen in her life; and she said I was a very clever little boy indeed, when I read something about sarsnets and modes, that was printed on a paper in which she was rolling up some riband; and when I repeated the verses to her, mamma, she said she never heard any thing so well repeated in her life.”

  “And did you believe all this, Frank?”

  “Not quite, mamma. I made some mistakes when I was repeating the verses; and she did not take notice of that.”

  “And did you understand what you read about sarsnets and modes?”

  “O mamma, I was sure you would ask that question! How came it that the lady never asked me that? And there was something about fashionable assortment. She kissed me for reading that; and all the time I did not-understand those words. When you kiss me and praise me, mamma, I feel quite sure that I have done something well, or good; I know what you are pleased with me for; but I did not know exactly why that lady was so much pleased with me; do you know, mamma?”

  “No, my dear; and I am not sure that she was much pleased with you.”

  “O yes, mamma, I think she really was very much pleased with me, though she was a foolish woman, and did not know why.”

  �
��Did not know why she was a foolish woman, do you mean?”

  “No, mamma, but did not know why she was pleased with me.”

  “In that respect,” said his mother, laughing, “it seems that you were as foolish as she was.”

  “But, mamma,” said Frank, “why are you not quite sure that she liked me?”

  “Because, my dear, I have often heard people tell children that they were sweet creatures, and charming dears, and clever fellows; and I have observed that these people forget the charming dears as soon as they are out of sight.”

  “You and my father never do so; do you?”

  “Never.”

  “I had rather that you and papa should praise me, and like me, than the lady I saw in the shop. I think I was very foolish to tell her what my father wrote in my book, because she did not care about it, I suppose.”

  “You will be wiser another time,” said his mother. “Now put on your hat, and let us go to look at the bees at work in the glass bee-hive.”

  They went to the old woman’s cottage and the little boy opened the garden-gate; and Frank went to the bee-hive, to observe the bees, whilst his mother sat down in the arbor, and took a book out of her pocket, in which she read for some time. It entertained Frank more, to-day, to look at the bees, than it did the first morning he came to look at them, because he saw more distinctly what they were doing. And when he had attended to the bees as long as he liked, he went to the arbor, where his mother was sitting, and he asked her whether he might go and talk to the little boy, who was now weeding in the garden.

  His mother said that she would rather that he should not talk to this little boy; but she went to him herself, and thanked him for letting Frank look at his bee-hive; and she told him that if he would come to her house, she would give him a pair of strong shoes, which she had had made him.

  Then she took Frank by the hand, and went to the cottage.

  Somebody was talking to the old woman, very eagerly, about washing a gown.

  The person who was talking was a maidservant; and she had a muslin gown in her hand, which she said her mistress had desired her to take to be washed.

  This old woman was a washerwoman.

  “Look here!” said the maid, showing the bottom of the muslin gown, on which there were the marks of shoes, which had trodden upon it, and on which there was the mark of a large hole, that had been mended. “Look here: what a piece of work I have had this morning! Yesterday my mistress came home with her gown torn and dirtied in this manner; and she told me it was all done by a little mischievous, troublesome, conceited brat of a boy, that she met with in the milliner’s shop at —— , where she was yesterday.”

  Whilst the maid was saying this, she did not see Prank nor his mother; for her back was turned towards the door through which they came.

  “O mamma!” cried Frank, “I remember that was the gown the lady had on who called me a charming little fellow, and who praised I mean the other word, flattered me so much; but now she calls me a little mischievous, troublesome, conceited brat, only because I trod upon her gown by accident, and tore it. I did not know I had torn it. I remember I caught my foot in it, when you called me to come away with you, mamma. If I had torn or dirtied your gown, I do not think you would have been so angry with me. The next time any body begins to flatter me, and to tell me that I am a charming little dear, I shall recollect all this, and I shall not repeat my verses, nor tell them what papa wrote in my book.”

  Frank, who had seen the little boy to whom the bee-hive belonged weeding the beds in the garden, said to his mother one morning, “I should like to try to weed some of the borders in your garden, as that little boy weeds the beds in his grandmother’s garden.”

  Frank’s mother said that he might weed one of the borders in her garden; and she lent him a little hoe; and he went to work, and weeded a piece of the border very carefully; and his mother looked at it, when he had done, and said that it was very well done.

  The same day, at dinner, Frank’s father gave him a bit of cheese; and his mother was surprised to see Frank take this cheese off his plate, and put it betwixt his fore finger and his middle finger; then he took a piece of bread, and stuck it betwixt his middle finger and his fourth finger; and then he took a large mouthful of the cheese, and a large mouthful of the bread, so that his mouth was filled in a very disagreeable manner. - “Pray, Frank,” said his mother, “what are you about?”

  Frank’s mouth was not empty for nearly a minute; and he could make no answer.

  “Where did you learn this new method of eating bread and cheese?” —

  “Mamma,” said Frank, “I saw the little boy, in the cottage, eating his bread and cheese, after he had done weeding; and he ate it just in this way.”

  “And why should you eat in that way, because you saw him do so?”

  “Mamma, I thought you liked that little boy; I thought he was a very good boy. Do not you remember his bringing me back the bunch of ripe cherries, that I dropped? You called him an honest little fellow; and do not you remember that he has been very good-natured in telling us all he knew about bees, and in letting me look at his glass beehive? And you know, mamma, this morning, you said, when you saw him at work, that he was very industrious; did not you?”

  “Yes, I did. I think he is very industrious, and that he was good-natured, in letting you look at his glass bee-hive; and honest, in returning to you the bunch of ripe cherries which you dropped; but what has all this to do with his method of eating bread and cheese?”

  “I do not know, mamma,” said Frank, after thinking a little while. “Nothing to do with it! But I thought you would be pleased to see me do every thing like him, because you were pleased this morning, when you saw me weeding like him.”

  “You may weed like him,” said Frank’s mother, “without eating like him; he weeds well; but he eats disagreeably. I shall be glad to see you as honest, and as good-natured, and as industrious, as he is; but I should be sorry to see you imitate his manner of eating, because that is disagreeable. Sensible people do not imitate every thing which they see others do; they imitate only what is useful or agreeable.”

  Frank took the bread and cheese from betwixt his fore finger and middle finger, and from between his middle finger and his fourth finger; and he put the cheese upon his plate, and did not any longer imitate the manner in which he had seen the little boy, in the cottage, cram his mouth.

  “Did you ever hear,” said Frank’s father, “of the manner in which apes are sometimes caught?”

  “No, papa.”

  “Apes are apt to imitate every thing which they see done; and they cannot, as you can, Frank, distinguish what is useful and agreeable from what is useless or disagreeable; they imitate every thing without reflecting. Men who want to catch these apes, go under the trees in which the apes live; and the men take with them basins, with water in them, in which they wash their own hands; they rub their hands, and wash, for some time, till they perceive that the apes are looking at them; then the men go away, and carry with them the basins of water; and they leave under the trees large, heavy, wooden basins, filled with pitch: you have seen pitch, Frank; you know that it is a very sticky substance. The apes, as soon as the men are out of sight, come down from the trees, and go to the basins, to wash their hands, in imitation of the men. The apes dip their hands into the pitch; and the pitch sticks to their hairy hands; and the apes cannot draw their hands out of the pitch. Now, these animals usually run upon all-fours.”

  “All-fours, papa!” interrupted Frank: “how is that?”

  “As you run upon your hands and feet, upon the carpet, sometimes. — The apes cannot run well, for want of their hands, and because the wooden bowls, which slick to their hands, are so heavy. The men who left these bowls come back, and find the apes caught in this manner.”

  “I think these apes are very foolish animals,” said Frank.

  “So do I,” said his father; “no animals are wise, who imitate what they see done, without
considering the reason why it is done.”

  Frank asked his mother if she would take him again to the cottage garden, to see the bees at work in the glass bee-hive; but his mother answered, “I am afraid to take yon there again, till I am sure that you will not imitate the little boy in every thing which you see him do; for instance—”

  “O mamma!” said Frank, “I know what you are going to say. But to-day, at dinner, you shall see that I will not eat in that disagreeable way.”

  His mother attended to him several days; and when she observed that he did not imitate this boy any more in his manner of eating, she took him again to the cottage.

  The old woman was spinning; and Frank stopped to look at her spinning-wheel; and he asked his mother what was the use of what the old woman was doing.

  She told him that the woman was twisting a kind of coarse thread, called yarn, and that her spinning-wheel was a machine which helped her to do this quickly. His mother then asked Frank, whether he knew where the thread came from.

  “No, mamma,” said Frank.

  “It comes from a plant called flax, my dear,” said his mother; “I think you went with me, last summer, through a field in which you saw flax. You took notice of its pretty blue flowers.”

  Frank said that he did remember this; but that he could not imagine how the thread which he saw upon the spinning-wheel, could come from that green plant with the blue flowers.

  His mother told him that she would show him, whenever she had an opportunity, The old woman, who was spinning, told Frank’s mother, that a neighbor of hers was this very day hackling some flax, and that, if she liked to let Frank see how it was done, she would show her to the house where her neighbor lived.

  “I should like to see what is meant by hackling flax,” said Frank.

  “Then come with us, and you shall see,” said his mother.

  Frank followed his mother to another cottage, where he saw a woman beating, with the edge of a thin bit of wood, something which, he thought, looked a little like very yellow, dry hay; but his mother told him that this was flax.