Chapter 2

_Mr. B._ This is, I believe, a mistake: the chief use of copper, in China, is for coinage. Scarcely any utensil is made of that metal, and the Chinese themselves confidently deny the use of copper plates for this purpose. The colour and flavour of green tea is thought to be derived from the early period at which the leaves are plucked, and which, like unripe fruit, are generally green and acrid.

Emily thanked her father for the account he had given her, and all the children gratefully felt the value of their kind parents, who were ever willing to devote their time and attention to the improvement of their beloved family.

_Mr. B._ I hope you are all prepared to give me a further account of Romulus, after tea.

_All_. We hope so, papa.

_Ferdinand_. May I first tell you a very curious account of a little dwarf, which I read today?

_Mr. B._ By all means, my boy.

_Ferdinand_. It is now seventy-four years since he was born, at a village in France. He was a very little creature indeed, as you will suppose, when I tell you he only weighed a pound and a quarter. When he was baptized, they handed him to the clergyman on a plate, and, for a long time, he used to sleep in a slipper. He could not walk alone till he was two years old, and then his shoes were only an inch and a half long. At six years old he was fifteen inches high. Notwithstanding he was so very small, he was well-made and extremely handsome, but he had not much sense. The king of Poland sent for him to his court, called him baby, and kept him in his palace. They tried to teach him dancing and music, but he could not learn. He was never more than twenty-nine inches tall. By the time he was sixteen he began to grow infirm, like an old man. From being very beautiful, the poor little creature became quite deformed. At twenty he was extremely feeble and decrepid, and two years after, he died.

_Mr. B._ Poor little creature: such objects are much to be pitied. There are persons who take pleasure in seeing them; but I must confess, there is something to me extremely unnatural, in such an exposure of our unhappy fellow-creatures.

_Edward_. Did not Peter the Great, on some occasion, assemble a vast number together?

_Mr. B._ He did; and I rather think Emily can give you an account of it.

_Emily_. It was in the year 1710, that a marriage between two dwarfs was celebrated at the Russian court. The preparations for this wedding were very grand, and executed in a style of barbarous ridicule. Peter ordered that all the dwarfs, both men and women, within two hundred miles, should repair to the capital, and insisted that they should be present at the ceremony. Some of them were unwilling to comply with this order, knowing that the object was to turn them into ridicule; but he soon obliged them to obey, and, as a punishment for their reluctance, made them wait on the others. There were seventy assembled, besides the bride and bridegroom, who were richly adorned in the extreme of fashion. Everything was suitably provided for the little company; a low table, small plates, little glasses; in short, all was dwindled down to their own standard. Dancing followed the dinner, and the ball was opened with a minuet by the bride and bridegroom, the latter of whom was exactly three feet two inches high, and the day closed more cheerfully than it had begun.

_Edward._ I had always understood that Peter was a man of a very barbarous disposition, and I think this circumstance is a strong proof of it. How cruel! to make sport of the misfortunes and miseries of others.

_Mr. B._ The Czar Peter was a most extraordinary man. No monarch ever did more towards the civilization of his subjects, or less towards the subduing of his own barbarous nature. My dear Ferdinand, ring the bell; I believe the tea-things may now be removed.

_Louisa._ Oh! how pleasantly the time has passed. I have not once thought of my work. I was afraid I should have been quite impatient to begin the little frock which I cut out last night.

_ Emily._ You have felt interested in the conversation, Louisa, and that has made the time pass so pleasantly. Sometimes, when you are anxious respecting any pursuit, you think so much of its approach, that you do not attempt to employ the preceding minutes, which is the cause of their appearing so long.

_Mrs. B._ I was just going to make the same remark, Emily. It is very unwise to lose the present time, in the anticipation of a moment we may never see:

"Improve the present hour, for all beside Is a mere feather on the torrent's side."

Whilst the servant was clearing away the tea-things, the children employed themselves in preparing for their different occupations, and were soon happily seated around their parents.

_Mr B._ Well, now who will give us an account of the Sabine war? As the eldest, I believe I must call upon you, Emily.

_Emily._ The Sabines having become masters of the Capitoline hill, through the treachery of Tarpeis, a general engagement soon took place, which was renewed for several days, both armies obstinately refusing to submit. The slaughter was prodigious, which seemed rather to increase than diminish their rage. In a moment the attention of both armies was attracted by a most interesting spectacle. The Sabine women, who had been carried off by the Romans, rushed in between the combatants, their hair dishevelled, their dress disordered, and the deepest anguish pictured in their countenances; they seemed quite regardless of consequences, and, with loud outcries, implored their husbands and fathers to desist. Completely overcome by this distressing scene, the combantants let fall their weapons by mutual impulse, and peace was soon restored. It was determined that Tatius and Romulus should reign jointly in Rome, with equal power, and that an hundred Sabines should be admitted into the senate.

_Mr. B_. Was this union permanent, Edward?

_Edward_. Yes, father; though, as might have been expected, little jealousies occasionally crept in among them. Tatius was, however, murdered about five years afterwards, so that Romulus was once more sole master of Rome.

_Mr. B_. Come, Louisa, you have been silent to-night, let me hear you finish the account.

_Louisa_. Romulus soon began to grow very proud and haughty, now he had no one to oppose him. The members of the senate were much disgusted by his arrogance, and contrived to put him to death so privately, that his body was never discovered: they then persuaded the people that he was taken up into heaven, and he was long afterwards worshiped as a God, under the name of Quirinus.

_Ferdinand_. I am glad Romulus is dead, for I never liked him. Numa Pompilius was a much better man.

_Mr. B._ And pray who was he?

_Ferdinand_. He was a Sabine, papa: the second king of Rome, and was famous for being a just, moderate, and very good man; and that is the best kind of fame, I think.

_Mr. B._ I think so, too, Ferdinand. Was Numa Pompilius elected to the sovereign authority immediately upon the death of Romulus?

_Edward_. No, father: the senators undertook to supply the place of a king, by assuming, each of them in turn, the government for five days; but the plebeians not choosing to have so many masters, insisted upon the nomination of a king, and the choice fell on Numa Pompilius. He was received with universal approbation, and was himself the only person who objected to the nomination. Happy at home, and contented in a private station, he was not ambitious of higher honours, and accepted the dignity with reluctance.

_Ferdinand_. I should have thought just as

Numa did, papa; for I do not think kings can ever be happy.

_Mr. B._ They are certainly placed in a very responsible situation; but those who conscientiously perform their respective duties, need not fear being happy under any circumstances.

_Ferdinand_. But a king has so many duties to fulfil, and they are so important, that I am sure I had much rather be a subject.

_Mr. B._. I am quite of your opinion, my dear boy, that there is much more happiness to be found in the private walks of life; and I can with truth declare, that I would not exchange my own fire-side, enlivened by so many happy countenances, for the gilded palace of the greatest monarch.

"Nor would we change our dear father and mother," said the cheerful little Louisa, "to be the gayest lords and ladies in the land."

_Mr. B._. Well, my little lady, now let me hear how Numa goes on in his new dignity.

_Louisa_. He was so well calculated to be a king, by his goodness as well as his knowledge, papa, that you may suppose he made his subjects very happy. His whole time was spent in endeavouring to render them pious and virtuous. He built a great many new temples for religious worship; and, amongst others, one to Janus, which was always open in time of war, and shut in time of peace. He did every thing in his power to encourage agriculture, and, for this purpose, divided the lands which Romulus had conquered in war, among the poor people. His subjects loved him very much, and he lived till he was eighty years old, and then died in peace, after having reigned forty-three years. The temple of Janus was shut during his whole reign.

_Mr. B._ You have given your account very correctly, Louisa; Numa was, indeed, a wise and discreet prince. You have, however, omitted mentionaing his distribution of the tradesmen of Rome into distinct corporations, which Plutarch considered the master-piece of his policy. The city had been long divided into two factions, occasioned by the mixture of the Sabines with the first Romans. Hence arose jealousies, which were an inexhaustible source of discord. Numa, to remedy this evil, made all the artists and tradesmen of Rome, of whatever nation they originally were, enter into separate companies, according to their respective professions. The musicians, goldsmiths, carpenters, curriers, dyers, tailors, &c. formed distinct communities. He ordained particular statutes for each of them, and granted them peculiar privileges. Every corporation was permitted to hold lands, to have a common treasury, and to celebrate festivals and sacrifices proper to itself;--in short, to become a sort of little republic. By this means the Sabines and Romans, forgetting all their old partialities and party names, were brought to an entire union.

_Ferdinand._ That was a capital contrivance. What a clever man Numa was; and how much good such a king can do to his people.

_Edward._ You did not mention, Louisa, what pains Numa took to reform the calendar. The year, before his time, consisted of but three hundred and four days, which is neither agreeable to the solar nor the lunar year. Numa endeavoured to make it agree with both: he added January and February to the old year, which before consisted of only ten months. Although he did not render the calendar so complete as it is at present, he remedied the disorders as far as he was able, and put it into a condition of more easily admitting of new corections.

_Mr. B._ Louisa has alreay told us that the temple of Janus was not opened during the whole reign of Numa: he was, indeed a most pacific and amiable prince. He was beloved by his neighbours, and became the arbiter of all the differences among them; and his virtues seemed to have communicated themselves to all the nations around Rome. As to the Romans themselves, it might be literally said, that their weapons of war were changed into implements of husbandry. No seditions, no ambitious desires of the throne, nor so much as any murmurs against the person or administration of the king, appeared amongst his subjects. When he died, they lamented him as severely as if every man had lost his own father; and the concourse of strangers to Rome, to pay the last tribute of respect to his remains, was exceedingly great. Numa had forbidden the Romans to burn his body; they therefore put it into a stone coffin, and, according to his own orders, buried the greatest part of the books he had written, in the same sepulchre with himself. He had made a law, forbidding that any dead body should be buried within the city, and had, himself, chosen a burying-place beyond the Tiber. Thither he was carried, on the shoulders of his senators, and followed by all the people, who bewailed their loss with tears.

_Mrs. B._ How superior to brass and marble, is such a monument of a people's love.

_Ferdinand._ I suppose Numa named one of his new months January, in compliment to the god Janus, to whom he had erected the temple.

_Mr. B._ Yes. Janus is always represented with two faces, one looking backwards, the other forwards; and seems to be properly placed at the beginning of the year, to point out to us the necessity of looking back to the time that is past, that we may remedy our crimes in the year ensuing.

_Louisa._ Well, really now, that is very ingenious. Are the names of the other months all equally suitable, papa?

_Mr. B._ February was so called from the expiations signified by the word _Februs_, which were in this month performed. March had its name from _Mars_, the supposed father of Romulus; and on that account had been placed first, till the alteration made by Numa. April is said to have derived its name from _Aphrodite_, which is another name for Venus, because of the superstitious worship at that time paid to her. May, from _Maia_, the mother of Mercury, to whom this month was made sacred. June, from _Juno_; or, as some suppose, from _Juventus_, the Latin word for youth, because the season is warm, or, as it were, juvenile. The rest had their names from their order:--as, _Quintilis_, the fifth month; _Sextilis_, the sixth; _September_, the seventh; _October_, the eighth; _November_, the ninth; and _December_, the tenth:--all derived, as you know, Ferdinand, from the Latin words signifying these numbers. _Quintilis_ and _Sextilis_ were afterwards changed into July and August, in compliment to Julius Caesar and the emperor Augustus, of whom you will hear as you proceed with your history. Have you read any part of the reign of Tullius Hostilius, who was the next king of Rome?

_Louisa._ I just looked at a few pages, papa, but did not read much. But, from the little I saw, I do not think I shall like him so well as Numa.

_Edward_. No, that you will not, Louisa; for he was very fond of war, which you do not like at all. The temple of Janus was soon opened when he mounted the throne. I think Hostilius was a good name for him, for he was hostile to all his neighbours.

_Mr. B._ You have read his reign, I suppose, Edward? We must not, however, anticipate the history, by entering into any further detail at present, or we shall deprive your sisters of the pleasure they would otherwise have in the perusal of it. To-morrow, I shall expect an account of the battle between the Hexatii and Curiatii, which was the first remarkable event that occurred in his reign. It is now time to retire, as I purpose taking you all on a little excursion to-morrow, if it prove fine. You must, therefore, rise early, and prepare your lessons before breakfast.

The children all expressed their delight at this unexpected indulgence, promised the strictest attention to their lessons, and, affectionately embracing their parents, withdrew.

CONVERSATION III.

On the following morning the children rose according to their promise, and, by strict attention to their lessons, merited the treat their father had in store for them. It was a lovely morning! but our best- laid schemes are subject to disappointment; and the little group felt their pleasure greatly lessened, upon hearing that a violent headache, to which their mother was subject, would prevent her joining the party. I shall not enter into any detail respecting their visit, as my young readers will hear it all from their own lips, in the conversation they held with their mother, when they returned in the evening. They had the pleasure of finding her much better, and able to enjoy their company, and the account they gave of their excursion.

Emily first entered the parlour, and, gently opening the door, affectionately enquired after her mother's health.

"My head is much better, I thank you, my dear," replied Mrs. Bernard: "but why are you alone?--where are your brothers and sisters? All safe and well, I hope?"

_Emily_. Yes, quite well, and in high spirits, I assure you. They requested to get out at the lodge-gate, that they might have a race through the garden. Feeling rather tired, I preferred riding.

At this moment Louisa came running in, quite out of breath. The others soon followed her, laughing merrily.

_Louisa_. Oh! mamma, how I wish you had been with us. We have had such a happy day, and have seen so many curious things.

_Ferdinand_. What a nice woman Mrs. Horton is, mamma. She has been so kind to us.

_Edward_. Dear me, Louisa and Ferdinand, how loud you talk. You forget mamma's head.

"Gently, my dears, gently," said Mrs. Bernard: "moderate your delight a little. I am glad to hear that you have enjoyed year day, and shall like to have a full account of all you have seen, when you can enter upon it quietly. In the mean time, go and put by your hats and tippets, my dear girls, and come to tea as quickly as you can."

Louisa declared she did not want any tea, and requested that she might go into the nursery to little Sophy, and take her some shells, which Mrs. Horton had given her.

Mrs. Bernard willingly granted her request and added:--"I am glad, my dear Louisa, you do not, when in the midst of enjoyment yourself, forget your little sister, who is too young to join your pleasures. You may go and stay with her a quarter of an hour; but do not keep her up beyond her usual time."

_Ferdinand_. Pray take my shells too, Louisa, and tell her that little fishes once lived in them at the bottom of the sea.

Louisa, with a light step, and a heart still lighter, left the room, saying, she had a great deal of information to give little Sophy.

_Mrs. B._ Now, my dear Emily, ring the bell, and make haste down to tea: I see your father coming up the garden.

The children quickly returned. They were not, however, allowed to enter into any detail of their past pleasures, till the tea-things were removed, and Louisa had joined their part, which she did, very punctually, at the expiration of the promised quarter of an hour.

_Louisa_. Little Sophy is so delighted with her shells, mamma! She sends her love to you, Ferdinand, and says she will give you a kiss tomorrow. I do not think I shall do much work to-night, mamma, we have so many things to tell you.

The room was soon cleared, and liberty given to begin the account of their excursion, provided only one spoke at a time.

_Ferdinand_. Oh, Louisa, tell mamma about the dog!

_Edward_. No: tell about the cat, that is the most curious.

_Louisa_. Now, I do not think so, Edward. The story about the dog was so very droll.

_Mrs. B._ Stop--stop, my dear children, or I shall hear nothing after all. Begin at the beginning, and all will go on regularly. Now, set out from our own door.

_Louisa_. Come, Emily, you will tell that part best, because I do think you enjoyed the ride more than any of us.

_Emily_. I did, indeed, enjoy it. The country looks so rich, from the variety of foliage; the autumnal tints are in their highest beauty, and you know, my dear mother, how delightful the scenery is, particularly through the park which leads to Mrs. Horton's house. She received us with the greatest politeness, and was very sorry you were prevented accompanying us, especially when she heard that indisposition was the cause of your absence. After we had taken some refreshment, she proposed a walk in the park. As we passed through a small room, opening into the garden, I was much struck with the appearance of an elegant bird in a glass case. It was stuffed, but so remarkably well done, that you would have thought it still alive. From the two long feathers in its tail, I knew it to be the bird of Paradise, and begged Mrs. Horton would give me leave to examine it more closely. She told me it was a native of the Molucca Islands, and that there were eight different species of them. The plumage is very beautiful. The head, throat, and neck, are of a pale gold colour; the base of the bill, as well as the head, is covered with fine black feathers, soft and glossy as velvet, and varying in colour with the different shades of light that fall upon them. The back part of the head is of a shining green, mixed with bright yellow; the body and wings are covered with brown, purple, and gold-coloured feathers; the upper part of the tail is a pale yellow, and the undermost feathers are white, and longer than those above. But what chiefly excites curiosity, are two long, naked feathers, which spring from the upper part of the rump, above the tail, and are, in general, two feet in length. These birds are supposed to migrate into other countries at the time of the monsoons, but it is not certain that they do so.

_Ferdinand_. Pray, what are the _monsoons_, Emily?

_Emily_. They are periodical winds, to which those countries are subject lying within a certain distance of the equator. They blow in one direction for a time, and, at stated seasons, change, and blow for an equal space of time from the opposite point of the compass.

_Louisa_. Do not forget the little hummingbirds, Emily, which were in the case next to the bird of Paradise. What beautiful little creatures they were! And Mrs. Horton says that nature has provided them with forked tongues, completely formed for entering flowers, and drawing out the honey, which is their natural food.

_Mrs. B_. Did Mrs. Horton tell you how curiously they construct their nests?

_Louisa_. Oh, yes; she showed us one: it was suspended on the very point of a twig. She says, they adopt this plan to secure them from the attacks of the monkey and the snake. They form them in the shape of a hen's egg, cut in half. The eggs are not bigger than a pea, of a clear white, with a few yellow specks here and there. I wish I had some of these pretty little creatures; but Mrs. Horton says they will not live in England, it is so much colder than the tropical climates.

_Ferdinand_. What little feet the Chinese women have, mamma! We saw one of their shoes, and I am sure it was not a bit bigger than little Sophy's.

_Emily_. But you know, Ferdinand, _that_ is not the natural size of the Chinese ladies' feet: they are confined, while they are babies, with very tight bandages, which prevent them from growing.

_Louisa._ I am glad I am not a Chinese little girl. Such small feet cannot be very useful to them when they grow up to be women, I think.

_Mrs. B._ Indeed, they are not: The poor things are perfect cripples, and are obliged to be carried wherever they go.

_Ferdinand._ Oh, how I pity them! They can never run about and enjoy themselves while they are little, as we do, Louisa.

_Mrs. B._ Indeed, my dear Ferdinand, an English child has great cause for thankfulness, on many accounts. I know of no country where the real happiness and welfare of children is so carefully studied.

_Emily._ In China, however, the boys are educated with considerable care. In their early studies, geography is particularly attended to. At six years of age, they are made acquainted with the names of the principal parts of the world; at eight, they are instructed in the rules of politeness; and at ten are sent to a public school, where they learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. From thirteen to fifteen they are taught music; they do not, however, sing merry songs, as we do, but serious sentences, or moral precepts. They also practise the use of the bow, and are taught to ride. In every city, town, and almost in every village, I have been told that there are public school for teaching the more abstruse sciences.