Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  Amy commenced—”J, U, Ju.” “O!” exclaimed Dame Ashford, “something about the Jews; truly, they have long been a despised and persecuted race — go on, Amy.” “V, E, ve, N, I, L, E, nile.” “Ay, ay,” said her grandmother interrupting her; “I well remember the battle of the Nile — poor Nelson! — he made the French dance to a new tune there! go on, Amy, dear.” “F, O, R, G, E, T, Forget.” “No, no!” said the old lady quickly, “I don’t forget it — that battle was fought on the first day of August, 1798 — Nelson took nine ships from our enemy and burnt two — poor fellow! go on, Amy, I love to hear of those beautiful sea-fights!” Amy obeyed—”M, E, N, O, T.” “Menot!” exclaimed her mother, “let me look at the book, Amy. Yes! I see now! Juvenile Forget Me Not. What a beautiful present Mr. Lovechild has given you! Indeed, Amy,” she continued, glancing her eye over the contents of the volume, “this appears both pretty and useful. I will read you all the nice stories in it, which I hope you will soon be able to do yourself; and remember, my dear, that whenever we see the beautiful and the useful united, they will always add both to our delight and our improvement.”

  THE YOUTHFUL PARTNERS.

  BY MISS JANE STRICKLAND.

  Let us all have one purse. — Proverbs i. 14.

  “Sister Ellen, we have just received our allowance,” said George Hamilton: “suppose we put our money together, and have only one purse between us.”

  “So we will,” replied Ellen, “and resolve, in future, to make useful purchases, such as books, and work-boxes, and cottons, and tapes.”

  “And portraits of celebrated characters,” returned George; “and if they are too expensive for our pocket, their images shall adorn our playroom mantel-piece.”

  “You are quite determined, I see, brother, by your saying our pocket, instead of our pockets,” said Ellen, laughing. “Well, so am I. Pray how much have we got between us? We have just received a quarter’s allowance from papa, who generously advanced it from twenty shillings a-year to twenty-four shillings. Well, six and six make twelve.”

  “Grand-papa gave us a crown a-piece at Christmas, and Aunt Catherine did the same, of which we have only spent a shilling each. Come, we will reckon. Oh, thirty shillings! If we had not laid out those two shillings in sweetmeats, we should have mustered one pound twelve between us,” replied George. “Why, Ellen, we never were so rich in all our lives.”

  “But who is to keep the purse?” asked Ellen, thoughtfully.

  “Why, it shall change owners every week; and, as I am the elder, I will be banker till Monday next.”

  “So it will be the firm of George and Ellen. How droll Ellen and Co. will look, when we enter our expenses in a memorandum book. Papa,” continued the young lady, “George and I are going to have but one purse between us in future.”

  “My dear children, you had better remain as you were; for, as your tastes are very different, I fear you will not unite your interests with your money, and will, consequently, fall out.”

  “But we never quarrel, papa; we love each other too well for that,” replied the brother and sister, looking tenderly at each other.

  Papa felt doubtful, it was evident, whether their friendship would stand the test; but, as he never interfered in the management or expenditure of their pocket-money, the juvenile partners put their joint stock into one purse, of which George, for the present, was to be the keeper.

  That very day an image-man came to the door, and George and Ellen expended three shillings of their money in the purchase of busts of the Duke of Wellington and the Princess Charlotte, which they placed upon the mantel-piece with mutual satisfaction.

  “Papa, you were mistaken in thinking we should fall out,” cried the partners: “we are still as loving as doves.”

  “I hope this harmony will continue, my dears,” replied Mr. Hamilton; “but, remember, your partnership is scarcely of a day’s standing: I shall be a better judge by the end of the week.”

  The following Saturday was a day of trial to the juvenile firm. Mr. Hamilton had occasion to attend an auction in the neighbourhood, and, at George’s earnest entreaties, agreed to make him his companion. Things were going “dirt cheap,” to use the phrase of the auctioneer; but it was a furniture auction, and chairs and tables were not in the compass of the united purse. Regard for Ellen’s interests only prevented George from bidding for a set of fire-irons, that even papa said were worth double the money given for them. The next lot consisted of a pair of bellows, an iron tea-kettle, and three spoons of the same useful metal, all absolutely going for three shillings. Struck with the singular cheapness of these articles, George pulled his father by the sleeve; but Mr. Hamilton was engaged in conversation with a friend, and did not attend to the hint. George nodded to the auctioneer, and the lot was knocked down to him. The sound of his son’s name recalled Mr. Hamilton’s attention to what was going on.

  “So you have made a purchase, I find, George,” said he, surveying the lot with a look of surprise.

  “Yes, papa; all these useful articles for three shillings and threepence,” replied George, unconsciously adopting the pompous manner of the auctioneer.

  “I hope you will find them so, George; but what use you can have for bellows, and kettles, and spoons, I cannot even guess.”

  “But they are so cheap: mamma gave three shillings for a pair of bellows only the other day, papa.”

  “Then she has no occasion for these, George,” replied his father: “I find nothing comes cheap unless its services are required.”

  George thought his mamma would gladly take the lot at a trifling advance; for, even if the bellows were not wanting, the iron tea-kettle and spoons would find in her a purchaser. But Ellen would naturally think he ought to lay out something on her account: however, for some time nothing was put up that appeared likely to suit her. At length, at the close of the sale, the following miscellaneous articles were submitted to the hammer: — a baby-house, a bundle of old almanacks, a “Ready Reckoner,” a pair of soiled card-cases, a bag of shot, three gun-flints, a small watering-pot, several netting-needles and knitting-pins. A general laugh followed the auctioneer’s enumeration of this his last lot.

  “Some of these things will be of no use to Ellen; but then, the baby-house will suit her doll, and the knitting-pins and netting-needles are all in a girl’s way, and I know she wants the small red watering-pot for her garden: so I think I shall bid.” And George did bid: a slight competition followed; for some person run him, out of mischief, and finally left George the master of the whole lot at five shillings and ninepence. Ellen’s partner certainly felt some misgiving as he paid down the amount of his purchases, and half repented of having expended nine shillings in things which they could have done very well without. “But Ellen must set the baby-house against the first lot,” thought he, as he delivered his goods to the footman to be carried home.

  When Mr. Hamilton and his son entered the sitting-room, they found Mrs. Hamilton examining the articles, as John held them in his hand.

  “My dear love,” said the lady, addressing her husband, “what did you give for these things?”

  “You must ask George,” replied he, laughing; “they are his purchases, not mine: they belong to him.”

  “To George!” repeated Ellen, in a state of alarm: “have you been laying out our money in an old leaky tea-kettle, a pair of bellows with a hole through the leathers, and three odious iron spoons?”

  George looked disconcerted.—”I did not know the articles were damaged,” answered he: “the auctioneer said they were as good as new, and as cheap as dirt: however, they only cost three shillings and threepence.”

  “Oh, extravagance!” sighed Ellen: “besides, if they had been good ones, of what use would they have been to us?”

  “Well, but the sundries are all in your way; and if I bought the first lot to please myself, dear Ellen, the last I purchased entirely on your account.”

  “A bag of shot, three gun-flints, a bundle of old almanacks, and a
pair of soiled card-cases, are likely to prove very useful to me!” remarked Ellen, pouting.

  “Dear Ellen, I was obliged to buy these things, because your baby-house, and netting-needles, and knitting-pins, were in the same lot.”

  “My baby-house, sir, and netting-needles, and knitting-pins!” retorted Ellen, angrily: “I have not played with a doll these three years, and your fine needles and pins are as thick as skewers, and covered with rust, — in short, good for nothing.”

  “Well, Ellen, I was mistaken about the doll, and you know boys are no judges of pins and needles; but you really wanted the watering-pot.”

  “But this has no rose: O George! George!” The pathetic tone in which Ellen uttered her brother’s name overcame the gravity of both her parents. “How much of our money have you spent to-day?” continued she, after a pause.

  “Nine shillings in all,” was his answer.

  “Nine shillings! in an old leaky tea-kettle, a pair of bellows that will not blow the fire, three hateful iron spoons, a worthless baby-house, a bundle of old almanacks, a pair of soiled card-cases, a roseless watering-pot, a set of rusty netting-needles and bent knitting-pins, a ‘Ready Reckoner,’ a — —”

  “I am sure the last article was quite superfluous,” remarked Mr. Hamilton, laughing:—”Ellen, you have enumerated all these bargains, I think.”

  “Fortunately for me, George’s week expires to-morrow,” said Ellen: “I am sure I shall not spend the money so foolishly.”

  Ellen’s parents were not quite so certain on this head as she appeared to be. However, the following Monday she was put in possession of the purse, according to the original agreement. A few days afterwards a Persian cat was offered for sale; and Ellen, who was fond of pets, gave half-a-sovereign for this elegant animal. Now, this was a large sum to expend at once, and her mamma told her so; but Ellen was so taken with her new favourite, that she hardly considered her dear. When George came in from his ride, the young lady displayed her pet with looks that demanded his admiration. To her great mortification, he turned away his head with an air of aversion, and retreated to the other end of the room.

  “Now, dear George, do come and pat my pretty puss: one would think you were afraid of her claws,” said Ellen.

  “Why do you ask me, Ellen, when you know how I dislike cats, and that mamma never keeps one on my account?”

  “Oh yes! and the pretty wax fruit my aunt Catherine gave me was devoured by mice, in consequence of your groundless dislike to those useful creatures, cats,” rejoined Ellen. “Indeed I forgot your antipathy, or, perhaps, I should not have bought Selima. Still, dear George, the poor pusses you hate are not at all like this fair-skinned blue-eyed puss, whose coat looks as if it were made of floss-silk.”

  “I hate all the feline species,” replied he, “whether green-eyed or blue-eyed, tortoise-shell, cypress-grey, sandy, or black; though, I confess, my hatred to white grimalkins is greater than to all the rest. Pray send her out of the room: I know you have only borrowed her to teaze me.”

  “Borrowed her, George!” repeated Ellen: “I gave half-a-sovereign for her not two hours since.”

  “Half-a-sovereign, Ellen! What right had you to spend my money in buying such a worthless beast?”

  “Pray don’t call my pretty Selima such a rude name: an animal, or a quadruped, would sound much better in your lips, I am sure. However Mr. George, you need not reproach me with laying out your money to disadvantage: remember the auction, and the bargains you bought there,” added Ellen, pouting.

  George was silenced; and Ellen remained in quiet possession of the purse till the end of the week. The following Tuesday, George brought home from a neighbouring town two plaster casts, which he showed Ellen with some pride.

  “I don’t like them at all, George,” said she. “Pray who are they, and what did they cost?”

  “Only half-a-crown,” replied he; “but, Ellen, you look at them as if you did not know them. They are Pitt and Fox. I have ordered several other distinguished characters, who are not yet unpacked.”

  “We have images enow,” returned Ellen; “and I cannot stand your extravagance any longer, Mr. George.”

  “Extravagance, Miss Ellen! remember the Persian cat, as you choose to call your white grimalkin.”

  “You forget the auction, Mr. George,” retorted Ellen, angrily.

  High words would probably have followed this sharp rejoinder, if their parents had not interposed to prevent a quarrel between the juvenile partners. “My dear children,” said Mr. Hamilton, “this scheme has ended, as I thought it would, in mutual discontent. I think you had better dissolve partnership.”

  George and Ellen eagerly assented to this proposition; and Mrs. Hamilton agreed to divide the contents of the purse between them.

  “You have expended, my dears, in the course of a fortnight,” remarked Mr. Hamilton, “twenty-four shillings and sixpence, in useless trifles, to your mutual dissatisfaction; but of how much good this money might have been productive, if expended properly! A small part of it would have paid for the yearly schooling of a little boy and girl, or fed two poor families, during this hard weather, for a week.”

  “O mamma, if we had thought of putting children to school, we should not have wasted our money so foolishly,” replied both the children.

  “It is not too late to do that yet,” said Mrs. Hamilton; “for you can each choose a scholar, and pay for their schooling at the end of the quarter, when you will receive your allowance; and the money you have left from this will just buy the books they will want.”

  “I will take the gardener’s boy Tom under my patronage,” cried George.

  “And I will have Phœbe Bloom,” rejoined Ellen; and these poor children were sent to school accordingly.

  George and Ellen never had one purse from the day they dissolved partnership, it is true; but they mutually agreed in devoting more than half the contents of their privy purse to the instruction and clothing of their protégés. They were so fortunate as to dispose of some of their useless purchases to unhoped advantage; and though the Persian cat still remains in Ellen’s possession, George has conquered his antipathy to her company, through love to his dear sister, her mistress.

  From the foregoing history, we may infer that it is sometimes easier to have one heart between two children, than one purse.

  THE CONTENTED FAMILY.

  BY MRS. HOFLAND.

  “What a happy little girl Jane is, now you have praised her! She is as proud of saying a good lesson, though she can only spell d-o-g dog, c-a-t cat, as I should be if I had done a long sum in the Rule of Three,” said Harry Gibson.

  “Surely she has as much right to be proud and pleased too,” replied his mother; “for she has gone through as much labour and conquered as much difficulty.”

  “She is a little merry good-tempered thing, at all times,” continued Harry; “indeed, I think we are altogether quite as happy as any of our neighbours, whether rich or poor; every body says we are a contented family, and so we are; — don’t you think so, mother?”

  “I can only answer for myself, Harry, though I believe your father’s feelings a good deal resemble mine; therefore the same answer may do for both: we are by no means contented.”

  All the time Harry had been speaking, he was laid down at full length on the floor, rolling from side to side, and looking sometimes upon his father, who, overpowered by fatigue, was half asleep in his chair, and sometimes at his mother, who was sewing as fast as she could, whilst his little sister stood beside her repeating her lesson. He now started on his feet, and, with a look of considerable alarm, affectionately approached his mother, saying earnestly, “Dear mother, do you really mean that you are not contented?”

  “I do mean so, indeed, Harry.”

  “Has something bad happened to father? does he fear that the crops will fail? are any of the sheep lost? is the brown cow ill again? or has somebody stolen the pig?”

  “The poor creature was safe ten minutes sinc
e, notwithstanding the state of the sty, which is sadly broken down, as you know: all our stock of that kind is well and thriving.”

  “Then, dear, dear mother, why are you not contented?”

  “I will tell you, Harry; it is because we have an idle son, which is always considered a great misfortune, especially to industrious people, who do their best to get forward in the world and to improve the situation of their children.”

  Harry’s face was instantly covered with blushes, and he began hastily to shake off the dust and straw that stuck to his clothes: he cast his eyes anxiously towards his father, as if in the hope that he would find an excuse, knowing him to be a most indulgent parent; but, on this occasion, he only shook his head, as much as to say, “It is too true.”

  The tears sprang to the boy’s eyes; for he was aware that his father was tired with labour, and saw that his mother was intent on finishing a shirt which she was making for hire, so that she could not allow herself time to set the house to rights in the manner she was accustomed to do. Harry loved his parents very dearly; he was good-humoured and obedient; but he was careless and thoughtless in the greatest degree; and though very lively when at play, he was indolent at home, and averse to the exertion called for in every situation of life, but especially from the poor.

  “I don’t see what I can do,” said he to himself, “that can at all signify, after I come from school. To be sure, the garden wants weeding, and the pig-sty wants building up, and a new door making, and I see the jackdaw’s cage is tumbling down for the want of a few willow twigs. I did say I would see after these things, sure enough; but somehow the days come and go before I can begin to do any thing. Sometimes I am tired with playing, sometimes I forget them, and — —”

  Harry’s soliloquy was cut short by a call to supper, which passed in silence and sadness; and when he went to bed he found it impossible to fall asleep, for the many thoughts which came into his head respecting his parents and himself. He recollected the unceasing industry and constant care of his father, the activity and ability of his mother, and began to see that he had by no means deserved the goodness with which they had treated him, or profited by the example which they had set him. The new clothes they had lately bought for him, the fairings they had given him, the kindness shown to him by sending him to school instead of compelling him to labour at home, affected him deeply; and he cried bitterly from shame and sorrow.