Part 8

NOTE.--Shepherd's purse, or wedge-shaped treacle-mustard, one of our commonest road-side weeds, varying greatly in the size and form of its leaves. "It flowers from spring to the end of autumn, and ripens copiously its triangular pole or pouches, whence its name,--distinguished from all other British plants. The root is tapering, and exhales a peculiar scent when pulled out of the ground. Small birds are fond of the seeds and young flowers."--[_Sowerby's English Botany._

SIMPLE PLEASURES.

Far, far down in the pass of the Clara mountains I dwelt with my sister Joanna. We lived with an old aunt, who took us home after our father's death. She was not in good health, and so could not do much for us. We were generally left to an old woman, who had the charge of us; but she was a little severe, and a little sharp, and very deaf; so that we did not have many pleasant days with her. Nevertheless, we tried to amuse ourselves as well as we could. We had tamed a little rat, so that when we laid a bit of sugar on the stone by the stove, he would come out and eat it, while we stood in the other corner of the room. It is true that we dared scarcely breathe, but yet we were a little flattered by his confidence in us.

Bits of sugar were, however, in these times, rare treasures for us; and not more than two pieces a week, could we have for the rat and for our own eating. Sundays were great holidays for us, for then we had Cologne water on the corners of our handkerchiefs, butter to our potatoes at breakfast, and roast meat at dinner.

It was also among our pleasures that we could, twice in the week, walk an hour in the court-yard. But, as people are seldom content with what they have, we were not satisfied with our amusements; and when summer arrived, and all the great people came out to their estates in the country, we took great pleasure in the idea of making a country residence for ourselves. We had sometimes followed the old woman to the cellar, and we had observed a place in the corner, on which the light struck from a certain air-hole, open towards the garden. There we planted a pea, one fine morning towards the end of May. For three weeks we went every day, and sought out the place, removing the earth a little about it, to see whether the pea had not begun to sprout.

Our delight was great, when, on the twenty-fourth day, after the planting, we saw a little swelling up of the pea, beautifully green and very shy, just peeping up with an expanded leaf.

We danced round it and sang for joy. Near this plantation we then placed a little pasteboard house, and before it a small bench, on which we put some paper gentlemen and ladies. And no one can have a livelier enjoyment in his country residence than we had in ours.

We lodged in a dark and very small room. But from my bed I could see a little bit of sky in the morning, and the chimney of our neighbour's house. But when the smoke rose from the chimney, and was coloured red and yellow by the rising sun, under the dome of the blue sky, then I thought the world up there in the air must be very beautiful, and I longed to go thither.

I conceived a great desire to fly, and confided this wish to Joanna. We made ourselves paper wings, and as these could not lift us up, we tried whether they would not at least sustain us, if we let ourselves go, without holding on to anything, from the stove, chest of drawers, or whatever we had climbed up upon.

But besides that, we got many bruises in these attempts, we made such a noise by falling to the floor, that it brought in the old woman, who gave a hearty scolding to the clumsy angels. Meanwhile, we thought of still another means of sustaining ourselves as we hovered over the earth. We selected suitable sticks, which we used as stilts, and on these we went round about the court yard, imagining all the time that we were flying.

Would that we had been content with this! But the desire to know more of the world without, threw us into misfortune. The house which we lived in was situated within a court-yard, and was separated from the street by a high wooden fence. A part of the enclosure was a garden, well fenced in and belonged to a notary. He was a severe man, and we were much afraid of him.

The temptation to evil came this time in the shape of a little pig. We saw, one day, when we were passing our play hour in the court-yard, a fortunate pig, who was enjoying himself in the most riotous manner in this garden. Spinach, tulips, strawberries, and parsley, all were thrown around him, as he dug with his snout in the earth.

Our anger at this was very great, and not less our wonder how the pig could have got into the garden, as the gate was shut and the fence was so firm. We looked about carefully, and at last discovered a hole, which had been nearly covered by a few old boards placed against it, but which the little pig had instinctively found out, and through which he had forced his way.

We thought it of the greatest importance to get the pig immediately out of the pleasure garden, and we could see no other means of doing so than to creep through, in at the same hole by which he had made his way; and now we hunted with great zeal our poor guide, and then put in order, as well as we could, what he had scattered about.

We closed the hole in the fence with a board, but could not resist the desire to let it serve us, now and then, as an entrance to this paradise. As we did not mean to hurt, or even meddle with anything in the garden, we thought it would not be wrong to take a breath of fresh air now and then. Every Sunday, in particular, we crept in by the pig's hole, which we always closed carefully after us. All around, within the garden fence, there was a hedge of syringa bushes, which hindered us from being seen from without.

However, it was very wrong in us to go into another person's garden without leave; and we soon found that every wrong thing brings its punishment with it sooner or later.

There was a little summer house in the garden, near that part of the fence which separated it from the street. There were some bushes so near that Joanna and I took the bold resolution to climb up by them, so as to get on the roof of the summer house, and there to look over the fence into the street. Thought, said, done.

Proud, triumphant, and glad, we found ourselves, after a quarter of an hour's labour, on the much-promised roof, and richly were we repaid for our trouble. We had a full view of the street. We saw, now and then, an old woman with a milk-cart, sometimes a gentleman in a chaise, and when we were in great luck, a lady with a parasol; and, still better, we had even a distinct perspective of King street, and had the indescribable delight of seeing a crowd of walkers and idlers, on horseback and in carriages, passing by. The whole world seemed to be moving there. After we had once seen this, we could not live without seeing it again.

One day,--I remember it as if it were yesterday,--one day we had taken our high post, and were looking curiously upon the world in King street. All at once we saw a stately rider on horseback, and directly after him a pair of white horses, drawing a splendid carriage. That must be the queen!--perhaps the king himself! Out of our senses with delight, we began to clap our hands and hurra loudly. At the same moment we heard the notary coughing in the garden. We were dreadfully frightened. We wanted to get down quickly from the roof, and hide ourselves among the trees; but, in our alarm, we could not find the right places for our hands and feet. Joanna rolled like a ball over the notary's strawberry bed, and I remained hanging by the chin to a great nail in the plank, and screaming as if out of my senses. See! here is the scar by the nail, it can be seen even now.----

These youthful adventures were related to amuse two little girls, who were suffering under a disappointment, having been prevented from going out to see an exhibition of fire-works. When their governess had reached this point in her story, a more than delicate supper was announced, and the children ran off to enjoy it, without stopping to inquire farther about the scar on the good lady's chin.

(From the President's Daughters by F. Bremer.)

THE ROBIN'S "GOOD BYE" TO LITTLE ARAMINTA.

ROBIN.

Good bye, good bye! I'm going away! I'll come again next spring, clear! I scarce can find one leafy spray, On which to plume my wing, dear.

ARAMINTA.

Dear Robin, are you going south, To pass the coming season? This chill air don't agree with you-- You're ill?--Is that the reason?

Your doctor thinks you cannot stay With safety in this climate? Advises you to travel? hey? (That word--how shall I rhyme it?)

ROBIN.

I have no doctor. I'm as well As you are, Araminta; But I've relations at the south, With whom I pass the winter.

We birds, that have no clothes or fire, Must fly this stormy weather; Good bye!--my friends are setting out; We always go together.

ARAMINTA.

Stay just a moment! Tell me how You're going? _Wings_ will weary; And there's no steamboat in the sky; The way is long and dreary.

ROBIN.

There's One above, who will not see A sparrow fall unheeded; He, 'Minta, will watch over me, And give me strength when needed.

I'm going where the orange glows, Like gold, thro' the emerald leaves, love; I'm going where its richest rose The laughing summer weaves, love.

ARAMINTA.

But tell me, Robin, how you'll find The route you want to glide on; There are no sign-posts in the air, Not even a road to ride on!

ROBIN.

Ah, little one! I cannot err, With His true hand to guide me; His care is ever o'er my way, His helpful love beside me.

THE BABY-HOUSE.

Are there any of you, my young friends, so young or so ignorant as to believe that, if you might go to the beautiful toy shops, and had but money enough to buy just what toys you fancy, you should be quite happy?

You have heard of Napoleon, the great Emperor of France, and perhaps you have heard of his wife, the lovely Empress Josephine. She had a daughter, Hortense, who was married to the King of Holland, Napoleon's brother. The Queen of Holland had children, dearly beloved by their grandmother Josephine. One year, as the Christmas holidays approached, she sent for those artisans in Paris who manufacture toys, and ordered toys to be made expressly for her grandchildren, more beautiful and more costly than any that were to be bought. Her commands were obeyed--the toys arrived in Holland at the right time, and on Christmas morning were given to the children. For a little while they were enchanted; they thought they should never see enough of a doll that could speak, wild beasts that could roar and growl, and birds that could sing.

But, alas! after a few hours, they were tired of a doll that could say nothing but ma--ma, pa--pa, of beasts that growled in but one tone, and the birds that sang the same note. Before evening the toys were strewn over the floor, some broken, all neglected and deserted; and the mother, on coming into the apartment, found one of the little princes crying at a window that overlooked a court, where some poor children were merrily playing.

"Crying _to-day_, my son?" she exclaimed. "Oh! what would dear grandmamma say?--what are you crying for?"

"I want to go and play with those children in that pretty dirt, mamma."

This story was brought to my mind last Christmas eve. I went to see a very good neighbour of ours, Mrs. Selby, a carpenter's wife. The whole family are industrious and economical, and obliged to be so, for Mr. Selby cannot always get work in these times. He will not call them _hard_ times. "It would be a shame to us," he says, "to call times hard when we never go hungry, and have decent clothes to cover us, and have health on our cheeks, and love in our hearts."

And, sure enough, there was no look of hard times there. The room was clean and warm. Mrs. Selby was busy over her mending basket, putting a darn here, a button in this place, and a hook and a eye there, to have all in order for Christmas morning. Her only son, Charles, was very busy with some of his father's tools in one corner; not too busy, though, to make his bow to me, and draw forward the rocking-chair. I wish I could find as good manners among our drawing-room children, as I see at Mrs. Selby's. Sarah and Lucy, the two girls, one eleven, the other ten years old, were working away by the light of a single lamp, so deeply engaged that they did not at first notice my entrance. "Where is little Nannie?" I asked. "She is gone to bed--put out of the way," replied Mrs. Selby. "Oh, mother!" exclaimed the girls. "Well, then--have not you banished her?" "Banished? No, mother--Oh! mother is only teasing us;" and they blushed and smiled.

"Here is some mystery," said I; "what is it, Sarah?" "Mother may tell if she pleases, ma'am," said Sarah. Mother was very happy to tell, for all mothers like to tell good of their children.

"You know, ma'am, the children all doat on little Nannie, she is so much younger than they--only five years old--and they had a desire to have some very pretty Christmas gift for her; but how could they, they said, with so little money as they had to spend? They have, to be sure, a little store. I make it a rule to give each a penny at the end of the week, if I see them improving in their weak point." "Weak point! what is that, Mrs. Selby?" "Why, ma'am, Charles is not always punctual at school; so I promised him that if he will not be one half minute behindhand for a week, he shall have a penny. Sarah, who is a little head over heels, gets one for making the beds and dusting neatly. And Lucy--Lucy is a careless child--for not getting a spot on her apron. On counting up Charles had fifty-one pennies Sarah forty-eight, and Lucy forty-nine."

"No, mother," said Lucy; "Sarah had forty-eight, and I forty-seven." "Ah, so it was; thank you, dear, for correcting me." "But Lucy would have had just the same as I, only she lost one penny by breaking a tea-cup, and it was such cold weather it almost broke itself."

I looked with delight at these little girls, so just and generous to one another. The mother proceeded: "Father makes it a rule, if they have been good children, to give them two shillings each, for holidays; so they had seventy-five pennies a-piece."

"Enough," said I, "to make little Miss Nannie a pretty respectable present."

"Ah, indeed, if it were all for Nannie? but they gave a Christmas present to their father and to me, and to each other, and to the poor little lame child, next door; so that Nannie only comes in for a sixth part. They set their wits to work to contrive something more than their money would buy, and they determined on making a baby-house, which they were sure would please her and give her many a pleasant hour when they were gone to school. So there it stands in the corner of the room. Take away the shawl, girls, and show it to Miss----. The shawl has been carefully kept over it, to hide it from Nanny, that she may have the pleasure of surprise to-morrow morning." The shawl was removed, and if my little readers have ever been to the theatre, and remember their pleasure when the curtain was first drawn up, they can imagine mine. The baby-house was three stories high--that is, there were three rooms, one above the other, made by placing three old wooden boxes one on the other. Old, I call them, but so they did not appear: their outsides had been well scoured, then pasted over with paper, and the gum arabic was put on the paper, and over that was nicely scattered a coating of granite-coloured smalt. The inside wall of the lower room, or kitchen, was covered with white paper, to look like fresh white wash; the parlour and chamber walls were covered with very pretty hanging-paper, given to the children by their friend, Miss Laverty, the upholsterer. The kitchen floor was spread with straw matting. Charles had made a very nice dresser for one side, and a table and a seat resembling a settee, for the other. The girls had created something in the likeness of a woman, whom they called a cook; the broom she held in one hand,--they had made it admirably,--and the pail in the other was Charles' handy-work. A stove, shovel and tongs, tea-kettle and skillet, and dishes for the dresser they had spent money for. They were determined, first, to get their _necessaries_, Sarah said, (a wise little house-wife,) if they went without everything else. The kitchen furniture, smalt and gum arabic, had cost them eighteen-pence--just half their joint stock. "Then how could you possibly furnish your parlour and chamber so beautifully?"

"Oh, that is almost all our own work, ma'am. Charlie made the frames of the chairs and sofas, and we stuffed and covered them." "But where did you get this very pretty crimson cloth to cover them, and the materials for your carpet and curtains?" The parlour carpet was made of dark cloth, with a centre piece of flowers and birds, very neatly fashioned, and sewed on. The chamber carpet was made of squares of divers coloured cloth.

The cloth for the centre-table was neatly worked; the window-curtains were strips of rich coloured cotton sewed together; the colours matched the colours of the carpet. To my question to Sarah, where she had got all these pretty materials, she replied, "Oh, ma'am, we did not buy them with _money_, but we bought them and paid for them with labour, father says."

These little girls were early beginning to learn that truth in political economy, that all property is produced and obtained by labour. "Miss Laverty, the upholsteress, works up stairs; we picked hair for her, and she paid us in these pieces."

"The centre-table, bedstead, and chairs," said the mother, "and the wardrobe for the bed-chamber, Charlie made. The bed-sheets, pillows, spreads, &c., the girls made from pieces _fished_, as they say, out of my piece-basket. The work was all done in their play hours; their working time is not theirs, and therefore they could not give it away."

"I see," said I, looking at some very pretty pictures hanging around the parlour and chamber walls, "how these are arranged; they seem cut out of old books, pasted against pasteboard, and bound around with gilt paper; but pray tell me how this little mamma doll was bought, and the little baby in the cradle, and this pretty tea-set, and the candle-sticks, and the book-case and flower-vase on the centre-table, and the parlour stove. Charlie could make none of these things; you could not contrive them out of Miss Laverty's pieces; and surely the three sixpences left after your expenditure for the kitchen, would go very little way towards paying for them."

"To tell the truth, ma'am," said Mrs. Selby, "the girls were at their wits' ends. Miss Laverty could not afford to pay them money for their work. I had got almost as much interested in fitting up the baby-house as they, and would gladly have given them a little more money, but I had not a shilling to spare. Sarah and Lucy laid their heads together one night after they went to bed, and in the morning they came to me and told me their plan.

"We have always a pudding-pie on Sunday instead of meat. 'Can't you, mother,' said they, 'reckon up what our portion of the pie costs?--Make one just large enough for you, and my father, and Nannie, and we will eat dry bread, and then, with the money saved, added to our three sixpences, we will get what we can.' At first I thought it rather hard upon the children, but my husband and I talked it over together, and we concluded, as it was their own proposal, to let them do it. We thought it might be teaching them, ma'am, to have love, as one may say, stronger than appetite, and work their little self-denial up with their love, and industry, and ingenuity. Poor people, such as we, cannot do what rich people can, for the education of their children. But there are some things we can do, which rich people can't--our poor circumstances help us. When our children want to do a kindness, as in this matter of the baby-house, they can't run to father and mother, and get money to do it with; they are obliged to think it out, and work it out, as one may say: and I believe it is the great end of education, ma'am, to make mind, heart, and hand work."

Again I looked at the baby-house, and with real respect for the people who had furnished it. The figures on the carpet, the gay curtains, tables, chairs, &c., were all very pretty, and very suitably and neatly arranged, but they were something more,--outward forms, into which Charles, Sarah, and Lucy had breathed, a soul instinct with love, kindheartedness, diligence, and self-denial.

* * * * *

Now, I ask my young friends to compare the gifts of the poor carpenter's children to those of the empress. Hers cost a single order, and a great deal of money,--theirs, much labour and forethought. If the happiness produced in the two cases, to both giver and receiver, were calculated, which would be the greatest amount? And which, in reality, were the richest--the rich empress's grandchildren, or the poor carpenter's little family?

FIDELITY AND OBEDIENCE.

"Isabelle: Isabelle! where are you?" but no Isabelle answered; and Mrs. Howard, her mother, was just going to send some of the servants after her, when Bruno, a large Newfoundland dog, rushed into the hall, and caught hold of her dress in his mouth. He was wet, and seemed very anxious for her to follow him; accordingly, Mrs. Howard called the gardener, and followed Bruno, who seemed delighted.

There was a large pond at the foot of the garden, and it was towards this that the dog ran; and as they were proceeding along, a suspicion entered the mother's mind, which caused her to hurry forward; need I say that it was of her child she thought--her darling Isabelle? Soon they reached the pond, and there, on the bank, lay her daughter; but her eyes were closed, and her cheeks so white that she seemed dead. Mrs. Howard uttered a shriek of mingled joy and anguish--joy, that she was out of the pond, and fear that she might not live.

She sprang forward and raised her from the ground--she put her hand on her child's heart--and, oh! happiness! she felt it beat. Isabelle was immediately carried home, and a physician was sent for, and he said that she was not hurt in any way,--that fright, only, had caused her to faint.

Bruno, the faithful Bruno, was given to Isabelle for her playmate and protector; and often might the two be seen bounding over the lawn, and through the meadows; and when the little girl was tired, Bruno would seat himself under the shade of some tree, while Isabelle would make him her pillow, and when she was rested, away they would run again. But this was on holidays; for Isabelle was a studious little girl, and did not spend all her time in play.

I suppose my little readers are all this time wondering why I do not tell them how Isabelle came to fall into the pond: I must beg pardon for my neglect, and repair the error by telling them. Well, Isabelle had leave to play in the garden with Bruno, and, as she was rambling by the pond, she saw a beautiful tuft of blue violets; and as she knew her mother was very fond of violets, she wished very much to get them for her; and though she had been told never to walk near the edge of the banks, she thought she should be able to get the flowers without danger; but in reaching for them, her foot slipped, and she fell over into the water.