COUSIN LUCY AT PLAY
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
[Illustration: Title page]
THE
LUCY BOOKS,
BY THE
Author of the Rollo Books.
_New York._
Clark, Austin and Smith.
COUSIN LUCY
AT PLAY.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF THE ROLLO BOOKS.
A NEW EDITION,
REVISED BY THE AUTHOR.
NEW YORK:
CLARK, AUSTIN & SMITH,
3 PARK ROW AND 3 ANN-STREET.
1857.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1841,
BY T. H. CARTER,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.
PREFACE.
Two volumes of a series of little books, corresponding, in their
general style and characteristics, with the Rollo Books for boys,
but designed more particularly for the other sex, have already been
published, under the names of COUSIN LUCY’S CONVERSATIONS, and COUSIN
LUCY’S STORIES. This, and its companion, COUSIN LUCY AT STUDY, are now
offered to the public, in the hope that the little readers, into whose
hands they may fall, may be interested, and, in some degree at least,
profited, by the perusal of them.
CONTENTS.
Page.
CHAPTER I.
THE MARBLE BOX, 9
CHAPTER II.
METAPHYSICS, 26
CHAPTER III.
STORIES, 42
CHAPTER IV.
THE RIDE TO TOWN, 56
CHAPTER V.
THE GYPSY PARTY, 72
CHAPTER VI.
THE MOROCCO BOOK--THE LONELY
SLEIGH-RIDE, 90
CHAPTER VII.
MARY JAY’S SUNDAY SCHOOL, 108
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PRESENT, 126
CHAPTER IX.
A FRIGHT, 138
CHAPTER X.
ROYAL A PROTECTOR, 156
CHAPTER XI.
THE DICTIONARY, 172
LUCY AT PLAY.
CHAPTER I.
THE MARBLE BOX.
There was a box, or chest, of a somewhat singular character, in the
house where Lucy lived; it was called the _marble box_. It was not
really made of marble; it was made of wood; but then it was painted
marble color, and that was the reason why it was called the marble box.
The marble box had books and playthings in it. It was pretty large, and
so it would hold a considerable number. There was a handle at each end,
and when Lucy took hold of one handle, and Royal, her brother, of the
other, the box was just about as much as they could conveniently carry.
The place where the marble box was usually kept, was under a table in
the back chamber entry, not far from the head of the stairs.
There was a lock to the marble box, and Lucy’s mother kept the key. She
tied a piece of blue ribbon to the key to mark it, and she kept it hung
up under the mantel shelf in her room.
The rule of the marble box was this--that it never was to be opened
except when the children were sick,--or, rather, when they were
convalescent. When children are attacked with sickness, they do not
generally, for a time, wish for any playthings. But, then, when the
disease is once subdued, and the pain, or the unpleasant feelings,
whatever they may be, have disappeared,--then there is a period, while
the patient is recovering his health and strength, which is called the
period of _convalescence_. Now, during convalescence, children are more
in need of playthings to interest and occupy their minds than at any
other time.
There are various reasons why this is so. In the first place, they
cannot usually be allowed to go out of doors; for, after such an
attack of sickness, it generally takes some time for the system to
become restored to its usual state, so as to bear safely the ordinary
exposures. Thus, by being confined to the house, the child is cut off
from some of his sources of enjoyment, which makes it more necessary
that he should have agreeable books and playthings.
Then, besides, during convalescence, the mind is not generally in a
proper state to engage in study, or in any of the usual duties of life.
This is peculiarly the case if the sickness has been severe. We feel
weak, and are easily fatigued, and exhausted with exertion, either of
mind or body. Consequently the ordinary duties of life are usually
suspended during convalescence, and this leaves a large portion of time
unoccupied. It is always difficult for mothers to find the means to
occupy this time pleasantly, in the case of the convalescence of their
children.
There is one more reason why it is desirable to have interesting books
and playthings for children, when they are in a state of convalescence;
and that is, that the mind is in such a state that it is in some
respects more difficult to be interested and amused then than at
other times. When recovering from sickness, there is often a kind of
lassitude and weariness, which makes the patient indisposed to be long
occupied in any one way. Occupations and amusements, which would please
him very much at some times, fail altogether now. The common books and
playthings, which he is accustomed to use at other times, do not afford
him much pleasure now. He very soon gets tired of them.
For these reasons, Lucy’s mother had often found it very difficult to
provide the means of amusing her, and occupying her mind, when she was
sick; and still more difficult to do this in the case of Royal. So she
told them, one day, that she meant to have a trunk to keep books and
playthings in, expressly for this purpose. She looked about the house
for a trunk, but she could not find any one, which was not in use. At
last, however, she met with this wooden box or chest, which was about
as large as a trunk; and she said that that would do very well indeed.
Royal helped her to bring it down stairs.
It was one day when Royal had been sick with the croup, that his mother
first formed the plan of such a box; and she wanted to amuse and
occupy him then, as well as to prepare to do it at future times, when
he should be sick. So she proposed to him to take the chest into the
kitchen, and line the inside of it with blue paper, so as to make it
look neat and pretty within. She brought him some blue paper in large
sheets; Joanna made him some paste; and then he pasted the blue paper
in.
It took all the afternoon to line the box; and in the evening, when
Royal’s father came home, Lucy brought him out into the kitchen to see
it. It was then almost dry, and was lying down upon its side, not a
great way from the kitchen fire. Lucy wanted to place it nearer; but
Royal said that there was danger, if it was placed too near, that the
heat would warp the wood, and so spoil the box.
“What do you think of our plan, father?” said Royal.
“I think it is a very excellent plan, indeed,” said his father. “I
should like to have had a share in the execution of such an excellent
plan myself.”
“What do you mean by that, father?” asked Lucy.
“Why, that I should have liked to have done something myself about this
box. Mother formed the plan and found the box, and Royal has lined it.
Joanna made the paste, and you,--you have done something, I suppose.”
“Yes, father,” said Lucy, “I held down the corners of the great sheets,
while Royal was pasting them.”
“Yes,” rejoined her father, “all have helped excepting me.”
“Well, father,” said Royal, “I wish you would make us a till.”
“A till,” repeated his father; “what kind of a till?”
“Why, a till here in the side,” said Royal, “to keep the small things
in.”
Royal explained more fully to his father what he meant by a till; and
his father said that he would see if he could make one; and that he
would go to work upon it that very evening, after tea.
Accordingly, about an hour after this conversation, they all came out
into the kitchen to see the process of making the till. Royal and Lucy
set out the table, and put the box upon the back side of it. Their
mother brought her work, and took her seat upon the side opposite to
the one where the children had placed a chair for their father.
“What do you suppose father is going to make the till of, Royal?” asked
Lucy.
“Of boards,” said Royal.
“O Royal!” exclaimed Lucy; “boards are too heavy.”
“I mean very thin boards,” said Royal, “very thin indeed.”
But just at this time their father came into the room with a large,
smooth board under his arm. The board was about as large as the top of
the box; and it was pretty thick and heavy. He brought this board, and
placed it down upon the table.
“O father,” said Royal, “are you going to make our till of such a
great, heavy board as this?”
“Not _of_ it, but _on_ it,” replied his father.
“What do you mean by that, sir?” said Lucy.
“Why, I am going to make your till of pasteboard; and I am going to cut
it out upon this smooth board.”
He then went out again, and presently returned bringing with him a
large sheet of very thick pasteboard. He laid the pasteboard down upon
the board, and then, after measuring upon the box, he marked out a
square upon it, as long as the box was wide; and as it was a square
which he marked out, it was, of course, as wide as it was long.
“What is that for, father?” said Lucy.
“That is for the bottom of your till,” replied her father.
He then took a large pair of dividers, which he had brought with him,
and began to mark and measure in various ways, so that Lucy could not
understand at all what he was doing.
Presently he said,--
“Should you prefer to have a fixed, or a sliding till, children?”
“O, a sliding till,” said Royal; “let’s have a sliding till, Lucy. But,
father,” he continued, after a moment’s pause, “what is a sliding till?”
“How do you know that you should like a sliding till, if you do not
know what it is?” asked his father.
“Why, I am pretty sure,” said Royal, “that I should like a till that
would slide. But I never saw one that would slide. They are almost
always fastened in at the end.”
Royal was correct in this statement. The till of a chest is commonly a
shallow box passing across the end of it, near the top, and is usually
fastened to its place. But there is an inconvenience in having it
fastened, unless it is made quite small; for, if it is large, it covers
and conceals the things which are below it, in the bottom of the chest.
Now, Lucy’s father wanted to make his till pretty large. He cut it out
square, as long, each way, as the width of the marble box. Now, as the
marble box was about twice as long as it was wide, it follows that
the till was large enough to cover one half of the upper part of the
box. If, therefore, it had been fixed into its place, it would have
been inconvenient on account of its covering and concealing the things
beneath it, and making it difficult to get them out. So Royal’s father
concluded to make it movable.
The arrangement which he adopted to secure this object was this: He
brought in two strips of wood, which he cut off so as to make them
just as long as the box itself, inside. He then bored two holes in
each of these strips, and, by means of some little screws, he screwed
them to the sides of the box, within, about three inches from the top.
Royal and Lucy watched their father very intently while he was doing
this; but they did not ask any questions. They thought that it might
interrupt him, and disturb his calculations, if they were to ask him
questions; so they preferred to look on and observe for themselves.
“Now I understand,” said Royal, when his father was screwing on the
second strip.
“What?” said Lucy. “What is it? Tell _me_.”
“Why, these strips are for the till to slide on. Father is going to
make a till, and put it in there, and let it rest upon those strips.
Those must be the sliders for the till to slide upon. Isn’t it so,
father?”
His father did not answer, but went on with his work.
“It _must be_ so, I know,” said Royal; “and it is an excellent plan. I
like a sliding till a great deal better than one that’s nailed in, so
that you can’t move it.”
When Royal’s father had got the sliders secured in their proper places,
he began to work again upon the till itself.
“Father,” said Lucy, “why did not you finish the till before you made
the sliders? You very often tell us that we must always finish one
thing before we begin another.”
“Did I say _always_?” asked her father, “or _generally_?”
“_Always_, I believe, father,” said Lucy, pausing a moment, as if
trying to think. “Yes, I believe you said _always_.”
“Then I made a mistake,” said her father; “I ought to have said
_generally_: it is a good _general_ rule, but there are some
exceptions. There are very few rules which have not some exceptions.”
While this and similar conversation was going forward, Lucy’s father
continued industriously at work upon the till. He cut out a piece of
pasteboard of such a shape that there was a large, square piece for a
bottom in the middle, and side pieces all around. He then carefully
folded up the sides, and the pasteboard thus assumed the form of a box.
“Now,” said Royal, “how are you going to fasten the sides up in their
places?”
“Why, mother can sew them,” said Lucy.
“No,” replied her father, “that will not do very well; for the stitches
would show through the paper that I am going to cover the till with.
Besides, it would be very hard indeed to sew such stiff, thick
pasteboard as this is.”
“The _paper_ will hold it,” said Royal. “When it is all covered over
with blue paper, pasted down strong, that will hold the sides together
in their places.”
“No,” said his father, “not strong enough. The paste would hold; but
then the paper itself would break away at the corners, after a time,
and so the till would be spoiled.”
“How shall you do it, then?” asked Lucy.
“You’ll see,” replied her father.
By observing him continually, the children did see. Their father took
some strips of cotton cloth, and pasted them over the corners, turning
the edges over inside of the box, and pasting them down smooth. Then he
covered the whole with blue paper, just as Royal had lined the inside
of the box; and when this work was completed, the till was done.
He then put the till carefully into the box, and let it rest upon the
sliders. He showed the children, too, how it would slide along from one
end to the other.
“Let me slide it,” said Lucy.
“Very carefully,” said her father, “for it is not dry yet.”
“And will it tear, now that it is not dry?” said Lucy.
“Perhaps it may not tear, but it will easily get bent out of shape.
To-morrow you can slide it as much as you please.”
The top of the till was just level with the top of the chest, so that
the lid would shut down tight, just as if there was no till in it. So
Lucy’s father shut the lid down when it was all ready, and told the
children that they might put the box away.
“We call it the marble box,” said Lucy.
“I should think you had better call it the _convalescent_ box,”
said her father, “since it is to be kept exclusively for cases of
convalescence.”
“What does that mean, sir?” said Lucy.
“_Convalescence_ means getting well,” replied her father, “after
you have been sick. So I should think that that would be the most
appropriate name. It is not really a marble box.”
“No, sir,” said Lucy; “only it looks like marble, and so we call it the
_marble_ box.”
“Yes, sir,” said Royal; “and, besides, I don’t think that
_convalescent_ box would be a very good name, for that would mean that
the box itself was getting well,--whereas, in fact, it is only the
children.”
“True,” replied his father; “that is an objection. But let me see; I
believe we do use descriptive epithets in that way.”
“Descriptive epithets,” repeated Royal; “what are descriptive epithets?”
“Why, the word _convalescent_,” replied his father, “is an epithet. It
is applied to _box_, in order to describe it; and so it is called a
_descriptive_ epithet.”
“Then I think,” said Royal, “that it ought to describe the box, and not
the persons that are to use it; or else it is not a good descriptive
epithet.”
“So should I,” added Royal’s mother.
“But I believe we do use epithets in that way. For example, we say
_a sick room_; but we don’t mean that the room is sick, but only the
persons that are in it. And so we say _a long and weary road_; but it
is not the road that is weary but only the people that travel it.”
“It is the road that is _long_,” said Royal.
“Yes,” replied his father, “but not _weary_.”
“But perhaps,” said Lucy’s mother, “all such expressions are incorrect.”
“No,” said her father; “usage makes them correct. There is no other
rule for good English than good usage.”
“Very well, then,” said Lucy’s mother; “I’ll call it the _convalescent_
box; and I think it will be a very convenient box indeed.”
They did no more about the box that evening; for it was now time for
the children to go to bed. The next day, however, they made some rules
for the box, which Royal wrote out in a very plain hand, and pasted
upon the under side of the lid. They were as follows:--
“RULES.
“1. This box must not be opened for Royal or Lucy, unless they have
been sick enough to have to take medicine.
“2. It must be shut and locked again, the first time they are well
enough to go out of doors.
“3. The playthings and books must always be put back in good order,
and the key given to mother.”
When Royal had pasted the paper containing a copy of the rules into its
place, he and Lucy began to look around the house to find books and
playthings to put into it. Lucy said that she meant to go and ask her
mother what she had better put in.
“What do you think, mother,” said she, “that we had better put into the
marble box?”
“That is rather a hard question to settle,” her mother replied. “You
want very interesting books and playthings when you are sick; but then
all that you put in will be entirely lost to you while you continue
well; for you know the box is never to be opened when you are well.”
“Would you put in my little paint-box, mother?” asked Lucy.
“Why, no,” answered her mother, “I think I should not; for you often
want to use your paint-box when Marielle comes to see you.”
“Well, at any rate,” said Royal, “we will put in all our little
pictures; for we don’t care much about pasting pictures, except when we
can’t go out of doors.”
They accordingly collected all their loose pictures, and old, worn-out
picture-books, such as they were accustomed to cut the pictures out of,
to make new picture-books with of their own. They also had a number of
pieces of marble paper, and gilt paper, and other kinds of paper, of
various colors, which they were accustomed to use for making little
pocket-books, and wallets, and portfolios. These they tied up neatly
together, and laid in the bottom of the box.
Then they selected a number of books, such as they thought they could
best spare, and placed them in two rows in the bottom of the box,
across the end. They also put in a number of playthings, the large
ones below, and the smaller ones in the till. When all was ready, they
locked it up, and gave their mother the key.
That night, however, when their father came home, the marble box had
to be opened again a moment, to put in two parcels which he brought.
One looked as if it had books in it, and the other something of an
irregular shape. Their father would not tell them what was in the
parcels. He only said it was something to amuse convalescents, whenever
there should be any. He then locked up the box again immediately, and
gave the key to the children, to be carried to their mother.
That evening Lucy said to Royal,--
“Royal, how long do you think it will be before you or I shall be sick?”
“I don’t know,” said Royal. “Why?”
“Because,” said Lucy, “only I should like to open our marble box.”