Chapter 3

Now when Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd came home and found no Paul, nor Charles, nor Grace, they were in great grief. They then thought what would be the best to be done. At last Mrs. Lloyd went to ask her friend, Mrs. Wood, who told her that she had seen them at the fair.

Mrs. Lloyd, when she heard this, had more hope, and she thought that they might soon come home. But no! the clock struck one, two, and three, and still they did not come!

When this Strange One went, Paul, and Charles, and Grace were left on the wild heath. Think what a fright they must have been in--no one near them: and no one knew where they were but this Strange One who had left them there.

At last Paul broke his string, and then he cut the strings of Charles and Grace. He took hold of their hands and led them up and down.

This heath was large and wild. Just as it was dark, great was their joy when they saw a house. It was a farm house; they went in the barn and slept all night on some straw. When day light came they got up, and went on till they came to a town.

They had not gone down the first street, when they saw their own milk-man. They ran to him at once: "Take us home," said they, "do take us home."

The milk-man did take them home.

When Mrs. Lloyd saw them--when she knew that they were safe, she could not speak a word, but her look told a great deal--they _felt_ that look, and they all said, "We have done wrong, but we will try not to do wrong more."

THE SUN.

The sun is a large world of much more size and weight than the earth and all the stars that move round it. It is by its great weight that it draws them all to it, and if they did not move fast and far in a course that takes them from the sun, all those stars that move round it with our world would be drawn to it in a short time. No one knows of what the sun is made, nor how it is that it gives so much heat and light; but most wise men think that it is a world like our own, where men can live, and not be burnt more than we are burnt by the heat of the earth. What makes the light and heat is a thing that seems strange to all. Some think that the clouds round it give out the light; that the black spots which are seen on the sun are large holes in the clouds round it, through which the sun is seen, and that the black spots are parts of the real sun. The sun shines and gives out heat to all the stars, which could not move in their orbs if the sun did not draw them to it; for they would else fly off through space.

THE DOLL'S HEAD.

Jane Thorpe was eight years old; so good had she been that Mrs. Thorpe told her she would take her to a toy shop, where she might choose the toy she would like best.

The toy shop was three or four miles from Mrs. Thorpe's house, so she rang the bell, and sent to tell the groom to bring round the coach.

The coach came round to the door, and great was the joy of Jane.

Yet, though Jane was so glad, she would have been more glad if Charles might have gone too. But Charles could not go; he had not been a good boy, and Mrs. Thorpe said he must stay at home.

Jane gave one look at him as she left the room to put on her things, and as she got in the coach, a tear fell down her cheek.

But on went the coach, and soon Jane thought but of the toy shop, and of what toy she would like best to have. Round and round went the wheels, and soon they were put down at the door of the toy shop.

How hard it was to choose! Yet no choice could fail to please. But choose what she would, some things must be left that she would like to have!

There was a large coach, and each horse would put on and take off. There was a man to drive, who sat on the box, and who had a long whip in his hand; and, more than all, the doors of the coach would turn back, and they would shut! There was a hay cart, and in it were three men with smock frocks; and there were some dolls in gay clothes--a great deal too smart to make hay, but they were so nice and so neat! and then all their things would take off and on, and they had large round hats on their heads.

Near this cart Jane stood a long time. At length she said, "I will choose this." But just when she said it she saw a doll--a large doll, with blue eyes and light hair. Jane thought the doll's eyes were sweet and soft, and she said, "No, no; I will not have the cart, I will have that sweet doll: do, do let me have that."

The doll, which was made of wood, was a nice strong doll, and Jane saw it put up for her to take home. She took hold of it with great care, in fear to spoil the clean white frock it had got on.

When Jane was at home, she ran up stairs to show it to Charles and to her Aunt: and her Aunt gave her some silk to make a cloak for it. Jane did her best to try to make it well, nor did it take her a long time to do this, as her Aunt cut out the parts and put them for her in the right way.

Jane then ran for her hat, and, in great joy, took her doll, and went in the lime walk.

There was a seat in this walk; and here Jane would oft spend two or three hours in the cool shade of the trees.

On this seat she sat down now, and, when she had been some time, she thought she would fix her doll on a branch of a tree. She did so; and she thought she must run and ask her Aunt just to come and look at it. The doll was left, and off she went, full of glee and song.

Where her Aunt was gone Jane did not know; she was not in the rooms down stairs, nor was she in her own room up stairs; so Jane went in all parts of the house. "Aunt! Aunt!" she said, but no Aunt could she find. This took up a great deal of time, and at length she went back to the lime walk.

Poor Jane! what a sight for you to see was there!--"My doll! my doll! O my doll!" were the first words she said, and then she sank down on the seat near the tree. And where was this doll of poor Jane's? There it was--not the doll such as she had left it, but the doll with its head cut off!

The head was hung by a string to a branch of the tree, and the rest of the doll was on the ground.

"O my doll, my dear, dear doll! who can have done so bad a thing as this? my doll! my doll!"

Just at this time her Aunt came near the lime walk. She heard the sobs of Jane, and ran fast to see what was the cause. All she said when she saw the doll was, "My dear Jane," and she gave her such a kiss as an Aunt who loves her Niece _can_ give. And then they went back to the house.

And who had done this bad thing? That must now be told.

There was a boy whose name was John Snap; he did not live far from Broom Hill, the house of Mr. Thorpe.

John Snap was not a good boy: he was so far from it that there was no one who had a child that did not try to keep him out of the way of John Snap. Mr. Thorpe had told Charles that he would not let him play with a boy he thought so ill of.

John Snap would take birds' nests, a thing which no boy with a kind heart could do; and he would tease dogs and cats, and do things that he knew would hurt them. Now it is quite sure that no good boy could do this; for he must know that all things that have life can feel pain as much as he feels it.

All things that have life can feel pain in all parts of their frame; but there is one kind of pain which dogs, and cats, and such things as they, do not feel as man feels it--and that is _pain of mind_. Such pain as this is hurts much more than some pains that are felt to be hard to bear in the _frame_ of man.

It was just such pain as this that Jane felt when she saw the head of her doll cut off. It was such pain as this that John Snap likes to give.

Though John Snap was so bad, yet he could do and say things which made boys like to be with him. There was now and then a great deal of fun in what he said, and he could make boys laugh. All boys like to laugh, and few could fail to laugh at what John Snap said.

Thus, in time, they might have been led to like him, and then they would not have thought some of the things he did so bad as they were. It was the fear of this which made Mr. Thorpe tell Charles he did not wish him to play with John Snap.

Mr. Thorpe told Charles that when John Snap spoke to him he must say what he had to say to him in a kind way, but that he must leave him as soon as he could.

Now it was not right of Charles Thorpe to go to John Snap's house, nor ought he to have gone out with him to play at trap and ball, for he knew that it was wrong to do so. This was the cause why he could not go with Jane to the toy shop. He was kept at home for a week, and told not to go past the sunk fence.

John Snap had not seen him for six days, so he thought he would go and call at Broom Hill. When he got there, he did not go to the house, but took a walk down the lime walk. This was just at the time when Jane was gone; and when he came to the seat near the tree he saw the doll. What he _did_ may now be told.

Yes! it was John Snap who had done this deed. At noon, as soon as it was done, he went close to a tree, so that he could not be seen. He did this that he might see what Jane would do when she came back, and hear what she would say.

He heard and saw all; but when he found how great was Jane's grief, he kept quite close to the tree, and did not dare to move till she was gone. He then went home as fast as he could, and great was his hope that no one would know that it was he who had cut off the poor doll's head.

Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe, and Jane's Aunt too, thought that this was like some of John Snap's tricks, but they did not wish to say so to Jane or to Charles. Jane's Aunt had a plan which she thought would be the means to find out if he had done this or not.

One day Charles was sent to ask John Snap to dine at Broom Hill.

John was glad to go; but he felt he should not like to see Jane, for she might talk of her doll; and if she should talk of it, he thought that he might say or do that which might tell what he had done. Yet John Snap went to dine at Broom Hill.

Now there was one thing of which John Snap was most fond, and this thing was fruit tart. The fruit tarts at Broom Hill were so sweet, and the crust was so light!

The day on which John Snap went to dine at Broom Hill the fruit tart was put near where he sat. How nice and large it was! and how good it smelt too! He thought the time was long till the time came for the tart to be cut.

"It will soon be cut now," thought he. But this dish came, and that dish went, yet still the fruit tart was not cut. He said, "No thank you," to all, for he thought but of the tart.

At length all the things were gone _but_ the tart. "That won't go, I hope," thought John; and great was his joy when he heard Mr. Thorpe say in a loud clear tone, "John Snap, will _you_ please to cut that tart?"

John, in great haste to do what he was told, took up the spoon--but the crust would not break: there was some hard thing, and the spoon would not go through the crust. One, twice, three times did he try. "Put a knife round the edge of the dish and clear off the crust," said Mr. Thorpe; "we _must_ come to the fruit."

John Snap did so. He put a knife round the edge of the dish, and all the crust came off at once. And what was there in that dish?

_A dolls head!_

Jane gave a loud scream, and John Snap made a rush to the door.

He was out of the room, but he heard Jane say, "It was _he_ who did it! it was _he_ who did it! My poor doll!"

The tone of Jane's voice, as she said this, made John go back. He could not bear to hear her. "Jane! Jane!" he said, "that doll's head will be the means to make me a good boy. I feel I could be good. I feel some thing that tells me so. I grieve for what I have done--I feel grief of such a kind as I have not felt till now."

Jane saw his face. When she saw his face, it told her so much that she said, "_I will think of this no more_."

PLAY NOT WITH FIRE.

Mr. and Mrs. Green had two girls, and their names were Kate and Anne. Kate was ten and Anne was eight years old.

It made Mrs. Green quite sad to think that she could not cure them of one bad fault; this fault was that they would play with fire.

All she said was of no use, for they would do it. Though she bought them books, and dolls, and all things that were nice, to play with, still fire was the thing they would play with. They would get a long piece of straw and set it on fire, and say it was a torch; and they went with these straws up and down stairs, and said they were in mines.

When Mrs. Green saw them do so she would scold them, and put them on chairs, or send them to bed, and did all she could to break them of it, but still they did not mind, and in a short time they would do the same.

Once one of the straws dropt and set their work on fire; and it might have done much harm, had not the maid just then come in to put on some coals. She threw the rug on the blaze, and put it out.

One day Mr. and Mrs. Green went out for a walk, and, as they could not take Kate and Anne with them, they were left in the house. When Mrs. Green left the house, she told them to mind not to touch the fire, and that, if they were good and did not touch it, she would bring them a nice toy.

Kate and Anne were glad at the time, but as soon as she was gone, they went down to the dog's house, which was full of straw, and each got some nice long straws. Then they went up stairs to pull down the blinds, to make it, as they said, seem more like a real mine. They then put long straws in the fire to light, and went with them up and down the room.

Kate bent some straws, and made them go round and round, and said they were squibs; Anne did the same; and they did this for more than half an hour.

They found that to do this did not burn them, as Mrs. Green had told them it would do, and they did not know why she did not like them to do it. This made them more bold, and they did it still more.

And at last Anne's frock caught fire,--and how it did blaze up!

She ran up and down the room, and did not know what to do, she was in so much fear. Kate went to her to try to put out the blaze; then she, too, caught fire, and not one of them had the sense to roll on the rug.

Their cries brought up the maid, who wrapt them in the rug, which soon put out the fire; but when she took them out, what was her grief to see how they were burnt! Kate was not so much burnt as Anne, but still she was so sore that she could not stand; and so loud were their screams, that the maid thought that they would scream till they were dead. Great was their pain, and the maid put them in bed.

As soon as they were in bed Mr. and Mrs. Green came home from their walk. They were most sad when they saw the state in which Kate and Anne were; and still more sad were they to think that they had been at the fire, when Mrs. Green had told them not to go there.

She had brought Kate a book, and Anne a nice wax doll, as she thought to have found them good when she came home.

Both Kate and Anne felt a great deal of pain, and they were ill for a long time.

When they were well, poor Anne's face was not at all what it had been--it was full of large scars and deep marks, that would not come out; and when she went to look in the glass, she gave a loud scream. How much did she wish she had not gone to the fire when she had been told not to so!

Poor Kate! the black mark on her hand gave her a great deal of pain, and when it was well she could not bear to look at it, for it brought to her mind what she had done.

They could not bear to see a large blaze, or to go near the fire, nor to warm their hands when they were cold.

Once when Mr. Green let off some squibs, they could not bear to see them, for it brought to their minds the time when they had been so much burnt.

ONE FAULT LEADS TO A WORSE ONE.

John Gay was eight years old. He was not a good boy, for he now and then told what was not true, and that is not right, for all boys and girls should speak the truth.

One day when his Aunt was in the room, John came in, and he saw her with a plum cake in her hand. She told him when she left the room, that he must not touch. He said, "No, Aunt; I will not touch it."

When his Aunt had been some time gone, John thought, "Well, if I were to take a bit of cake, my Aunt would not miss it from such a large cake as this is: yet it seems to me not to be quite right to take it."

But this boy (sad to say!) _did_ take a piece, and he found it so good that he thought he would take a piece more. He _did_ take some more; and he took piece by piece, and piece by piece, till he had made the cake quite small.

When he had done this, he knew that he had done wrong, and he felt sad. He went in his own room. He knew that the time must come when his Aunt would find it out.

He was sure that his Aunt would scold him if she knew; but he thought if he told her he had not done it she would think that he told the truth.

With these thoughts in his mind, he heard a knock at the door. He knew that it was his Aunt, so he made haste to come down stairs. He did not go in the room where the plum cake was, but he went in the next room. He took up a book, but he could not read, for his thoughts were too full of what he had done.

Soon his Aunt came in with the plum cake in her hand. "John," said she, "look at this cake: when I went out it was quite large, and now look at it!"

John said, "I do not know of it: how should I?"

She then rang; the bell: "Ann," said she as the maid came in the room, "do you know what has made the cake in this state? Call the cook, and ask her."

The cook said the same as Ann had said, that "she did not know of it."

When they were gone, his Aunt said to John, "It can be no one but you who have done this. I left you in the room with this cake, and told you not to touch it, and now, when I am come back, I find it in this state."

John could not speak a word, for he felt that he had done wrong. His Aunt saw this, and told him to go to bed.

When he was in bed he thought what a bad boy he had been, and how wrong it was for him to have told his Aunt what was not true. He thought that when he got up he would go and tell his Aunt how wrong he had been, and that he would do so no more.

John did as he thought he would do. His Aunt told him that if he was a good boy for a month, no more should be said of it.

He _was_ a good boy for a month; but for a long time past the month, when John saw plum cake, a flush of shame came on his face.

WHAT A PRICE FOR A BOX!

Rose Wood was in want of six pence. She had seen a box that she had a great wish to buy; and she thought that if she had but six pence, which was the price of that box, she should not have a want for a long time.

Rose would stand close to the shop, near a pane of glass through which she could see this box, and each time she saw it the more strong was her wish to have it for her own.

So much did Rose think of it that it might be said she had not a wish but what was shut up in that box.

"What shall I do for six pence?" said Rose one day; "that box will cost but six pence, and if I had six pence it would be my own."

"Why," said Mark Wood, "if you will sell your self to me, I will give you six pence."

"Sell my self! yes, that I will," said Rose. "Give me six pence, and I will sell my self at once."

"But," said Mark, "do you know that when I have bought you, you will be my child, and that you must do all that I bid you do?"

"Oh! I _will_ do all: I don't care what you bid me do, if I may but have the six pence to buy that box."

The six pence were hers, and the box was bought; but, poor Rose! you had to pay a great price for it.

With what joy she ran home box in hand!

"Look at it, look at it, Mark! This box is mine now; do just look at it. Do just look at this glass at the top: I can see my face in it, and I can see some of the things that are in the room. In the box I mean to keep small sweet cakes; and, Mark, I am sure I shall give you some, for you have been so kind to let me have the six pence. Oh, Mark, I do thank you so much."

"Stop, Rose, stop!" said Mark, "and do not thank me for the six pence till you know what I mean you to do for it. The first thing I shall tell you to do is, 'Put down the box.'"

"Put down the box!" said Rose: "not yet:--why must I put down the box?"

"Why! I tell you to do so; you are my child now, and must do what I bid you."

Poor Rose!

"But I may play with the box? I must and will play with my nice new box; that you will let me do."

"No, Rose," said Mark, "I can let you play with it no more. You must come with me; I mean to send you out to find some cress, and then you must go and try to sell it. Come, I shall put you on this hat of old Bet's, and you must wear this old shawl, and you must tuck up your frock, and go out to find the cress."

"Oh dear! oh dear!" said Rose; "you do not mean that I should do this?"

"But I do mean it, and you must go at once."

Mark put on the hat and the shawl for her. She was quite still, and said not a word. Mark then took hold of her hand and led her to a field near the house, and told her she must not come back till she had got as much nice cress as would sell for two pence. He then shut the gate of the field, and left poor Rose by her self.

At first she did not move, so strange did it seem to her that she should be left thus.

Soon she sat down on a bank. When she had been there some time she got up.

"How queer this is!" said she; "but it is all fun:" yet the laugh with which she said this was soon a _cry_.

Rose was a girl not soon cast down; all that she had to do or to bear, she did her best to do and to bear it well. She took a walk up and down the field, and at last she thought, "Well, I might as well try and see if I can find some cress;" and then she ran up and down till she had got a great way from the house.

No cress could she find, so she thought she would turn back and go home. But just when she had thought this, she saw on a pond, at the foot of the long slope on which she stood, some bright green weed, that she thought was cress. Off she set down the slope as fast as she could run, and she ran so fast that she could not stop till she came to the end. When she did stop she could not move.

Rose was deep in the pond--it came up as far as her throat! There she stuck quite fast, and there she might have stuck for hours, had not her cries been heard by Mark, who, though not seen, had not lost sight of her since the time she had left the house.

Mark, who was now in great fear, ran as fast as feet could run to the place where the head of Rose was to be seen on the pond, like a float on the top of green weeds. When Mark came to the slope, he went down it with care, lest the fate of Rose should be his.

The screams of Rose were loud: "I shall sink! I shall sink deep, deep down! Oh, help me! help me!" She then saw Mark: "Mark! Mark!" she said; "fast! fast! pray, pray come fast." Mark was now at the edge of the pond. "Raise up your arms," said he; "raise up your arms, and take fast hold of my hand."

The mud and slime were so thick that poor Rose found it hard to raise up her arms. Yet she did so, and caught hold of Mark's hand with such force that he, too, would have been in the pond had he not made a quick step back.

When Rose had got a firm grasp, Mark, with all the strength he had, did what he could to drag her out. At length she _was_ out: she stood at the edge of the pond, her clothes thick with mud and slime; and such a weight she was, that she could not move fast.

Poor Mark stood by her side, his face quite pale with the fright he had had. They went up the slope as well as they could. When they were near home, just at the gate which led out of the last field, they were met by Mr. Wood. What must Mr. Wood have thought to see Rose in that strange state, and with such a queer hat on her head?