CHAPTER VIII.

HOW EUSÈBE TREATS THE HORSE AT DIEPPE.--MAURICE RECOVERS IT.--THE THIEVES ARE ARRESTED.--RETURN OF FRITZ.--HIS GRATITUDE TO MAURICE.--HE MENDS THE HORSE.

A few days after Eusèbe came into possession of the horse, in the way described in the last chapter, he went off with his father and mother to Dieppe for sea-bathing. He took Cressida with him, for he wished to show it to some little friends whom he expected to meet there.

His fondness for the wooden horse did not last long. Instead of being reasonable and gentle with it, like Maurice, he was continually wanting this ingenious automaton to do more than it was intended to do. When it failed, he would grow impatient, call it obstinate, and beat it with all his might; sometimes he would spitefully pull the hair from its mane, and try to tear out its eyes. The best that could happen for the poor little horse now would be for its master to get tired of it, and cast it aside entirely.

The garden of the house occupied by Mr. and Mrs. de Malassise at Dieppe was ornamented with grottoes, rocks, cascades, rivulets, all in miniature, as if intended to amuse children. Eusèbe was fond of jumping about among the rocks and rivulets, and one day he took it into his head that Cressida should do the same. He took the horse at a gallop up to a little stream, only two or three feet wide, intending it to leap across; but it galloped into the water instead, leaping not being one of the movements it was constructed to make. Eusèbe took it up to the water two or three times, not sparing threats or blows while he did so, but in vain. Then he began to scream, as usual when he was in a rage, and looking about for some means of satisfying his anger, he remembered that his father kept a loaded pistol on the upper shelf of a closet in his dressing-room. He ran upstairs, and by mounting on a chair, contrived to reach the pistol, which was a double-barrelled one. Returning again into the garden, and still as furious as ever against the poor little horse, he went close up to it and fired off both barrels at once.

The horse was not so much damaged as Eusèbe himself. The child held the pistol in both hands, the left hand being close to the muzzle, and the result of his exploit was that not only did the recoil of the pistol throw him down on his back, but his hand was wounded and burnt by the explosion. He fainted from the pain, and in this state was picked up by his father, who ran into the garden at the sound of the shot.

Mr. and Mrs. de Malassise, instead of being angry with their son, laid the blame of the accident on the unfortunate horse; and a servant was at once ordered to break it in pieces, and throw it upon the fire.

In consequence of this accident Eusèbe had an attack of fever, and was obliged to keep his bed for some days. Most children in his place would have been taught a useful lesson by the suffering he thus brought upon himself. Not so Eusèbe: he only took advantage of the anxiety his parents felt about him, to be more tyrannical and capricious than before.

About this time Mr. and Mrs. de Roisel came also with their son to pass a few weeks at Dieppe, and Eusèbe was not yet quite restored to health when my little friend went to see him. With tears in their eyes Eusèbe's parents related the accident which had happened to their dear child; and it did not seem to occur to them that there was anything in the affair for which he could be found fault with. But Maurice felt indignant at what he considered cruelty even towards a wooden horse. He was thinking of Cressida while he listened to the story; but as Eusèbe's horse was not particularly described by his parents, it never occurred to Maurice that it could be his own lost Cressida.

A few mornings later Maurice was taking a country walk with his father and mother a little way out of Dieppe, when, as they approached a small village, they heard the loud and angry voices of children.

"Gee-up, gee-up! Get on, lazy beast!" said one voice.

"He can't carry so many," said another.

"He can't move!" exclaimed a third.

"I tell you he can."

"Tell you he can't."

"You shall see. Hi! Gee-up, gee-up! Go along!" and immediately the sound of a shower of blows, rained upon the back of some poor animal, reached the ears of Maurice, who, without stopping to reflect, ran as fast as legs of eight years old can run, in the direction of the noise.

He stopped at the entrance to a farm, where, in the courtyard, he saw five or six boys, and as many little girls, all clustered round a small pony. Two boys and a girl had contrived to seat themselves upon its back; two or three more were dragging it along by the bridle, while another beat it with a stick behind. The pony hung down its head in a way that was pitiful to see; it appeared to have a shoulder dislocated, and a leg was broken above the knee, and bandaged up. Its difficulty in "going along" seemed quite accounted for.

"Are you not ashamed," cried my little friend, "to ride, three of you at once, upon a little pony who is lame and ill?"

At first the boys were inclined to answer by some impertinence, but seeing Mr. and Mrs. de Roisel coming up behind Maurice, they rather sulkily got down from the pony. Then the poor animal, relieved from their weight, raised its drooping head, and a sudden suspicion flashed across the mind of Maurice. He cried out,--

"Oh! it is Cressida!"

Maurice ran back to his parents to tell them of his discovery; but instead of explaining himself, he could only say,--"Come, come quickly!"

He took his mother's arm, for he was so agitated he could scarcely stand.

Mr. de Roisel at once asked who was the owner of the unfortunate Cressida. It was one of the boys present: but the mother of this boy, being at work in the next field, observed that something was going on, and she now came up out of curiosity to see what was the matter. When Mr. de Roisel said he wished to buy the horse, she replied that she would sell it willingly.

"How much do you ask for it?" said he.

"You can give me whatever you please, sir."

"A napoleon--is that enough?"

"Indeed, sir, it is too much," she replied, "for the horse cost me only the trouble of asking for it. But if you like to give so much, sir----"

"Where did you get it?" asked Mr. de Roisel.

"Well, I got it in this way, sir. You must know I go twice every day into the town to take milk to different houses. One afternoon I was at the house of a rich gentleman, when I heard him call out to the servant to throw this little horse into the fire. It was in much better condition then than it is now, and though it might not be good enough for that rich gentleman's children to play with, it was quite good enough for mine. So I begged the servant to give it me rather than burn it, and he let me have it. There you see, sir, how I got it without paying anything. We poor people do not buy wooden horses for our children."

Mr. de Roisel gave the napoleon to the good woman, and some money also to her little boy.

"May God for ever bless you, my good gentleman," said she, astonished at his generosity; and she almost suspected that he must know of some hidden treasure inside the little horse.

When Eusèbe heard how Maurice had recovered Cressida, he was furious, and wanted the servant to be immediately sent away who had spared the little horse from burning. That evening Mr. de Malassise gave an account of the circumstances under which he had bought the horse, and spoke of the suspicion he had felt from the first of the man who sold it. The next day information was given to the police, and it was not long before the seller of the horse was arrested. He proved to be one of the thieves who had broken into Mr. Duberger's house. His accomplice was a man who went about the country as a pedlar, selling ribbons, silk-handkerchiefs, and toys. In this way he used to obtain access to houses, learning where valuable things were kept, and what were the habits of the family. The two together had committed the robbery: both were tried and convicted.

Mr. Duberger recovered only a small portion of the objects of art that had been stolen, but he was much rejoiced to hear that Maurice had got back his horse.

It was the month of October, and Maurice had returned to his own country home, where Cressida was installed once more in its old stable. But the poor pony had lost its former activity; it could not go faster than a walk, and even that with difficulty.

One morning Maurice was in the garden, when he saw Fritz approaching him, walking as fast as his old legs would carry him, and having an open letter in his hand. My little friend ran to meet him, when the old man embraced the child with tears in his eyes, and called him his benefactor. Seeing that Maurice did not understand why he used the word, Fritz tried to explain, but for some time he was too much affected to say anything intelligible.

"Ah, my poor niece!" he exclaimed, "she owes her life to you! Is it possible, so young a child! But I never thought you like other children. You have saved the life of a poor woman and her three little children. Nobody would believe it; yet it is true; it is all told here." And he pointed to the letter in his hand.

At this moment Mrs. de Roisel came up, and welcomed Fritz back again. Then he soon became sufficiently calm to explain himself clearly. It appeared that the young woman, with her three children, whom Maurice had met in the Luxembourg gardens, and had been so kind to, was the niece of Fritz. No sooner had she arrived in America than, overflowing with gratitude, she wrote her uncle a long account of what had happened to them, telling him how they had been saved by a young child named Maurice de Roisel. It was this letter that Fritz held in his hand. He had returned from Nuremberg to his cottage in the village only the evening before, and had come the first thing this morning to express his gratitude to Maurice.

"But how," asked Fritz, "came you to have so large a sum of money by you to give?"

"Oh, I did not give it all myself: besides, I was obliged to part with Cressida."

"Is it possible?" cried Fritz, starting back and turning pale. "You didn't sell it?"

"Alas!" replied Maurice, "it was only by parting with Cressida that I could procure the money."

"You were right: I must not complain. If it was the only way, you did right."

"But, oh Fritz! you cannot imagine in what a state I found my poor Cressida again."

"What!" cried the old man, with the joy of a child, "you _have_ Cressida again then? You should have told me so at first; it would have saved me pain. But you did well to sell it, else how could my poor niece have joined her husband?--my niece who is almost my daughter!"

Then Maurice related Cressida's adventures, and the wooden horse was brought out for Fritz to look at.

"It is not seriously damaged," said he, after examining it. "In a few days I will restore it to what it was a year ago: but bear in mind, I am the only doctor that can effect a cure. If, when I am no longer alive, it should be damaged in the same way, there is no one who could mend it. Watch then carefully over it in future."

_PUZZLE-PAGE._

Now, children, see if you can find out the names of these different objects. Three of them begin with A, one with C, one with H, and one with S.

EARLY LESSONS.

Now, Master Puppy, Sit up, if you please; This is for your good, Not in order to teaze.

When a nice little doggie Seems anxious to learn, A kind little master Will not from him turn.

Now you must not be snappish, But just do your best; A five minutes' lesson, And then you shall rest.

Little Katie and Baby Are anxious to see If you try, like a good pup, To imitate me.

Old Boxer, your friend too, Is curling his tail, And pricking his ears, For fear you should fail.

But if you are careful, I plainly can tell, You will grow quite accomplished, And do very well.

JACK AND DOBBIN.

There were two horses that belonged to my grandpapa when I was a little girl, that I think you will like to hear about; for although they were only common carthorses, employed to do farm work, they set a good example to children. They never quarrelled, but were always good friends; they worked together, and rested in the field together, and always kept together.

I will tell you what happened one day. It was a winter's morning, bitterly cold, and when Jack went to drink at the pond he found it was frozen over. He struck the ice two or three times with his foot to break it, but it was too hard, so off he trotted to Dobbin, who was standing a little way off, and neighed his trouble to him. Dobbin returned to the pond with Jack, and they both struck the ice together with their great heavy feet, and broke it; so that Jack could have his drink. Were they not clever?

We may often learn a lesson from animals; and I hope, my children, you will imitate these sensible nice horses, and always help each other.

UNCLE JOHN'S SCHOOL-DAYS.

This picture reminds me, children, of some funny stories that I have heard your Uncle John tell, when he and I were boy and girl together, of his exploits as a schoolboy. According to his account, not only he, but most of his schoolfellows, used to lead merry lives enough at school. They had a great deal of what he called excellent fun, though I am afraid it sometimes bordered upon mischief or naughtiness. I used to consider that he and his schoolfellows were regular heroes, as I listened to his stories when he came home for the holidays; and even now I must confess I cannot help laughing when I think of some of his naughty pranks.

Uncle John first went to a large school when he was eleven years old, and I remember now the tremendous hamper of good things he took with him. The boys who slept in his bedroom were so pleased with the contents of his hamper that they determined to make a great feast. To add to their enjoyment they imagined themselves to be settlers in the back woods of America or Australia. They built a log-hut with bolsters, and had a sort of pic-nic. One of them mounted on the top of the log-hut to look out with his telescope for any approaching savages, while the others enjoyed their suppers in and about the hut. When their fun was at its height, the door softly opened, and in walked Dr. Birchall, spectacles on nose, and cane in hand. What followed may be imagined.

You would not recognize Uncle John himself, whom you know only as a man six feet high, in that little lad on the right hand side of the picture, half hiding under the bedclothes. As a new boy he had no share either in the riot or its punishment; except indeed in so far as his hamper had supplied the means of riot. Still, what he saw made a deep impression on his mind; and particularly he thought a great deal of the inconvenience arising from the sudden appearance of the master.

You know that Uncle John is an engineer now, and even as a little boy he had a great turn for mechanical inventions. Well, he pondered over some means by which such a sudden interruption to the enjoyment of his schoolfellows might be prevented in future; and I will tell you what he did.

It happened that the large room in which he slept formed the upper floor of a wing of the house, which had been added to it when it became a school; and there was no access to this room from the principal staircase of the house. You had to pass through the room below, and go up a little separate staircase to reach to floor above. The lower room was also a bedroom for the boys, and Uncle John's little scheme was this:--

He made a hole with a gimlet in the frame of one of the windows of his bedroom, passed a piece of string through the hole, and carried it outside the wall of the house down to a similar hole in a window-frame of the room below. To the end of the string in the upper room was fastened a small rattle, while the other end of the string--that in the room below--was taken into the bed of a boy who slept near the window.

This admirable little invention once in order, there was more rioting in the upper room than ever; and the master, disturbed by the noise, soon went, cane in hand, to stop it. The instant he set foot in the lower room, the boy there who held the string in bed gave it a little pull; the rattle sounded--ting! ting!--in the room above, and in an instant every boy was in bed and snoring. Perhaps they had been playing at leap-frog the moment before, but as Dr. Birchall entered the room--and he crept up the staircase very quietly that he might catch them unawares--he found some twenty boys lying in bed, seemingly sound asleep, though snoring unnaturally loud.

The doctor was so disconcerted by this unexpected state of things that he retired at once, fancying perhaps that his ears had deceived him when he thought he had heard a noise in the room. The same thing happened two or three times: the doctor was puzzled, and the invention appeared a complete success; but at last all was discovered.

The boys one evening began imprudently to play at "Tossing in the blanket" before they were undressed. The rattle sounded, and they had just time to hide away the blanket. But the doctor coming in, and finding they were only then beginning to undress, knew they must have been at some mischief, and began questioning one after another. Unluckily, while he was in the room the rattle sounded again by accident: perhaps the boy in the room below had pulled the string by moving in bed. The doctor looked about, found the rattle hanging just below the window, saw the string, opened the window, and traced its course outside, went down into the room below and understood the whole arrangement. Then he put the rattle in his pocket, and went away without saying a word. The boys declared he had such difficulty in keeping himself from laughing, that he was afraid to speak lest he should burst out.

However, next day every boy in that room had a slight punishment, and so the matter ended.

Now I will tell you another of Uncle John's pranks at school. There was a large tree in the playground, the upper branches of which spread out very near to the windows of the bedroom I have been describing. One evening Uncle John got hold of a large hand-bell, which was used for ringing the boys up in the morning, and climbing up the tree, he fastened it by a piece of string to a branch near the top. Then another boy threw him the end of a long string from a window of the bedroom into the tree, and he fastened it to the bell in such a way that, when it was pulled in the bedroom, it made the bell ring in the tree. Having accomplished this arrangement, he came down from the tree and went to bed.

At ten o'clock at night the household was disturbed by the loud ringing of this bell. The master, in his dressing-gown, came out into the playground and soon discovered where the sound came from; but of course supposed that some boy had climbed up into the tree, and was ringing the bell there. It was the middle of summer, and a beautiful moonlight night, so the boys could see from the windows all that took place. Dr. Birchall stood at the foot of the tree, looking up, and exclaimed angrily,--

"Come down, you naughty boy! Come down, I say, directly. Oh, I'll give you such a flogging! Stop that horrible noise, I tell you, and come down!"

The bell still went on ringing. At last the string--being pulled too hard, I suppose, in the excitement of the fun--broke; and the bell tumbled down from the top of the tree, falling very near the old schoolmaster. This was worse than all.

"What!" he exclaimed, "you throw the bell at me? Why, if it had hit me on the head, it might have killed me. Oh, you wicked boy! I'll expel you, sir. I'll find out who you are if I stop here till morning."

At last, however, his patience was exhausted, and he went away, but left an old butler to watch the tree all night. The boys from the windows could see this man settle himself comfortably on a seat which was at the foot of the tree. He lighted his pipe, and prepared to carry out his master's orders, and watch till daylight. By three o'clock in the morning the dawn broke; then the man began to look up occasionally into the tree. Now and then he walked a little distance away, first in one direction, and then in another, to look into parts of the tree that he could not see from underneath. He kept this up till the sun had risen, and it was broad daylight; then at last he became convinced that it was impossible there could be a boy in the tree. He walked slowly into the house, still smoking his pipe, with a puzzled expression on his face.

And I suspect he was not the only person who felt puzzled. The next day the boys were going home for the holidays, so that no further inquiry could be made. I wonder if Dr. Birchall ever found out how it had been managed!

TREASURES.

Only a common room, Old, carpetless, and bare! Only a poor old home! A poor old woman there!

She sits with her eyes downcast, And thinks of the bygone years; Looks at the treasures gathered there When her heart held hopes and fears.

Hopes that lived but to die, Like the sweet one that gave them birth; Fears which changed to despair, When she sat by her lonely hearth.

Despair is now dulled by time, But it quickens and lives again, As she opens the old bureau To see treasures that still remain.

Only a broken toy-- An old mis-shapen thing! Yet endowed with cruel strength To inflict a sharp heart-sting.

A few old withered flowers Have fallen to the floor,-- Where, where are the little hands That gathered them long before?

Oh terrible, cruel power! That lies in inanimate things, To open the old deep wounds Time had touched with his healing wings.

MAMMA'S SUNDAY TALK. MIRACLES OF OUR SAVIOUR:

CHRIST WALKING ON THE SEA.

The miracle I have to tell you of to-day, my children, is called--Christ walking on the waters. It followed closely upon that I described in our last Sunday talk; I mean, that of our Saviour feeding a multitude of people with five barley loaves and three small fishes.

As evening came on, the multitude that had been fed, dispersed; and Christ desired His disciples to enter into their boat, and go before Him to the town of Bethsaida, where they might pass the night, while He went up into a mountain alone, intending seemingly to spend the night in prayer.

The disciples had not gone far upon their voyage, when the light breeze which was bearing them on their way, changed into a strong adverse wind. It had become dark, "and the sea arose by reason of a great wind that blew, and the ship was tossed with the waves." They were overtaken in fact by one of those sudden squalls to which the lake, or sea of Galilee is liable. In vain they rowed with all their strength; the contrary wind drove them out of their course into the middle of the lake.

In such an hour of danger they must have thought of the time, not long before, when they were caught in another storm on the same sea. But then their Master was with them in the boat; at His command the sea became calm, and the wind ceased. How they must have wished that He were with them now, or that they could call Him to them, that His voice might once more hush the tempest into peace, and control the winds and waves! They had entered the fourth watch of the night, which, as the night was divided into only four watches, means that the morning was approaching, and the storm was still raging fiercely, when they beheld a human figure approaching, walking on the surface of the water as if upon firm ground.

Sailors and fishermen have been in all ages superstitious, and those of that day generally held the belief that storms were raised by spirits, who delighted in the turmoil of the elements, and in the terror and destruction that were caused. Some superstitious thought of this kind seems to have been the first that entered the minds of the disciples, as they saw the figure approaching on the water. What followed is thus described by St. Matthew:--

"And when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear. But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid. And Peter answered Him, and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water. And Jesus said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me! And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"

The want of a thorough, unbounded faith and confidence in the power and divinity of our Saviour, was a fault which He had to contend against even in the disciples, who beheld His miracles almost daily. Peter and others who were in the boat became afterwards apostles of Christianity, and performed miracles themselves, when their faith must have become perfect; but it seems to have grown up gradually; and the words of Christ signify that Peter failed to walk on the water himself on this occasion only through his want of faith.

St. Matthew goes on to tell us that when our Saviour came into the ship, the wind ceased. Then the disciples came round Him, worshipping Him, saying,--"Of a truth thou art the Son of God."

SOME OF MY LITTLE FRIENDS:

Sammy.

Sammy is a great friend of mine, and a brave boy too, I can tell you: he is only seven years old, but quite a little man. Sammy's grandmamma was my nurse when I was a child, and through her I came to know him. She married a fisherman at Hastings one summer when we were staying there, and has lived from that time to this in a cottage on the beach just out of the town. Her husband no longer follows the calling of a fisherman, for he is very old; but he lets out rowing boats, of which two or three are generally to be seen drawn up on the beach close to the cottage.

The daughter of this old couple married a shipwright, and has four children, of whom Sammy is the eldest. She, her husband, and all the children, live with her father and mother in the cottage on the beach. How they all squeeze in, I do not pretend to know: it is a puzzle to me, but they manage somehow.

I had not seen my old nurse for some years--indeed not since her daughter's marriage--when, being at Hastings not long ago, I went one afternoon to pay her a visit. I approached the cottage from the beach, and entered at the door of a sort of kitchen which I found open. The proper entrance to the cottage, it appears, is from the road at the other side, where there is a little garden. However, I went in, and finding the kitchen empty, went through it to another open door leading into a sitting-room. Through this door, without being observed myself, I beheld one of the pleasantest sights that has ever met my eyes.

The children had evidently been out to meet their father on his way home from work, and they were all coming through the garden and just entering the opposite door together, as you see them in the picture. Sammy marched in front, carrying his father's basket of tools upon his shoulder as proudly as if he bore a treasure. Father himself was carrying little Topsey, the youngest child, upon _his_ shoulder, who pulled his hair and crowed and laughed all the time; while the other two children, Mary Jane and Florence Bessy, walked, or rather jumped and danced, on either side of him. The old man in the cottage was smiling a welcome to them as they came in: in short every face, from the youngest to the eldest there, looked bright and happy.

As I stood there observing, I mentally thanked heaven for the happiness which love and good temper can bring to the poorest cottage. My presence was soon noticed: my old nurse appeared heartily glad to see me, and showed me her grandchildren with great pride; but I did not remain long, for I saw that their tea was ready, and I was disturbing them. Afterwards I was often at the cottage; but I must hasten on to describe what first made me rank Sammy among my little friends.

One morning I was rambling along the shore, sometimes walking on the sand, sometimes on the slippery green rocks, reading occasionally a few lines of a book I had in my hand, but more frequently looking out to sea and watching the fishing boats riding bravely on the waves, when I suddenly became aware that the tide had risen quickly, and that I was hemmed in on a sort of island. I found water in front and on each side of me, while behind me was a ridge of rocks too rugged and slippery to climb.

Now my life was in no danger I daresay, but the prospect of having to walk through the water up to my knees was disagreeable. Very near me, but separated by some impassable rocks, stood the cottage of my old nurse, looking tranquil and pretty in the sunshine; while close by it, in a little cove formed by a wooden breakwater, a small boat was moored. I approached as near as I could and called for help. Presently little Sammy made his appearance in answer to my cries; but instead of returning into the cottage to obtain help from some grown-up person, he set to work at once to unmoor the boat, jumped into it, and began paddling along with a single oar round the breakwater and the rocks to where I stood.

I was in an agony of fear lest he should be carried out to sea, for he was certainly too little and too weak to have made head against any current or wind that there might be. However, the boat soon touched the sand close to me. I scrambled in, getting very wet the while, and then by our united efforts we got her off again and paddled her round to her own little harbour.

Once in safety, I exclaimed: "Oh, Sammy, how dangerous for you to come alone! why didn't you call somebody?"

"I thought you'd drown furst," said Sammy, with a grin; "but grandfather's ill and father's out, so I wor the only man at home, yer see."

"And a true little man you are," said I to my friend Sammy; and I am sure my little readers think so too.

_PUZZLE-PAGE._

Now, dear children, see if you can find out this puzzle page. One of these objects begins with a B, one with C, one with F, one with K, one with M, and one with P.

THE RABBITS.

_Cheerfully. mf._

1. Come out, little rabbits here's something to eat: The birds are all singing their music is sweet. The morning is lovely with sunshine and shade; Come out, little rabbits, and be not afraid.

2. Some nice water-cresses we have for you here, Some bran and some clover, so come, do not fear; The dog will not harm you, the cat is away, Come Bunnie, come Minnie, for food and for play.

A STORY OF A WOODEN HORSE.