A LONG AGO STORY.
"You may laugh, my little people,
But be sure my story's true;
For I vow by yon church steeple,
I was once a child like you."
_The Land of Long Ago._
If any of you children have travelled much, have you noticed that on a
long journey there seem to come points, turns--I hardly know what to
call them--after which the journey seems to go on differently. More
quickly, perhaps more cheerfully, or possibly less so, but certainly
_differently_. Looking back afterwards you see it was so--"from the time
we all looked out of the window at the ruined abbey we seemed to get on
so much faster," you would say, or--"after the steamer had passed the
Spearhead Point, we began to feel dull and tired, and there was no more
sunshine."
I think it is so in life. Suddenly, often quite unknowingly, we turn a
corner sometimes of our history, sometimes of our characters, and
looking back, long afterwards, we make a date of that point. It was so
just now with my little Carrots. This trouble of his about the
half-sovereign changed him. I do not mean to say that it saddened him
and made him less happy than he had been--at his age, thank God, few, if
any children have it in them to be so deeply affected--but it _changed_
him. It was his first peep out into life, and it gave him his first real
_thoughts_ about things. It made him see how a little wrong-doing may
cause great sorrow; it gave him his first vague, misty glimpse of that,
to my thinking, saddest of all sad things--the way in which it is
possible for our very nearest and dearest to mistake and misunderstand
us.
He had been in some ways a good deal of a baby for his age, there is no
doubt. He had a queer, baby-like way of not seeming to take in quickly
what was said to him, and staring up in your face with his great
oxen-like eyes, that did a little excuse Maurice's way of laughing at
him and telling him he was "half-witted." But no one that really looked
at those honest, sensible, tender eyes could for an instant have thought
there was any "want" in their owner. It was all _there_--the root of all
goodness, cleverness, and manliness--just as in the acorn there is the
oak; but of course it had a great deal of _growing_ before it, and, more
than mere growing, it would need all the care and watchful tenderness
and wise directing that could be given it, just as the acorn needs all
the rain and sunshine and good nourishing soil it can get, to become a
fine oak, straight and strong and beautiful. For what do I mean by "it,"
children? I mean the "own self" of Carrots, the wonderful "something" in
the little childish frame which the wisest of all the wise men of
either long ago or now-a-days have never yet been able to describe--the
"soul," children, which is in you all, which may grow into so beautiful,
so lovely and perfect a thing; which may, alas! be twisted and stunted
and starved out of all likeness to the "image" in which it was created.
Do you understand a little why it seems sometimes such a very, very
solemn thing to have the charge of children? When one thinks what they
_should_ be, and again when one thinks what they _may_ be, is it not a
solemn, almost too solemn a thought? Only we, who feel this so deeply,
take heart when we remember that the Great Gardener who never makes
mistakes has promised to help us; even out of _our_ mistakes to bring
good.
As I have said, the affair of the lost half-sovereign did not leave any
lastingly painful impression on Carrots, but for some days he seemed
unusually quiet and pale and a little sad. He had caught cold, too, with
falling asleep on the dressing-room floor, nurse said, for the weather
was still exceedingly chilly, though the spring was coming on. So
altogether he was rather a miserable looking little Carrots.
He kept out of the way and did not complain, but "mamma" and nurse and
Floss did not need complaints to make them see that their little man was
not quite himself, and they were extra kind to him.
There came just then some very dull rainy days, regular rainy days, not
stormy, but to the children much more disagreeable than had they been
so. For in _stormy_ weather at the seaside there is too much excitement
for anyone to think whether it is disagreeable or not--there is the
splendid sight of the angry, troubled sea, there are the wonderful
"storm songs" of the wind to listen to. Of course, as Carrots used to
say, at such times it is "dedful" to think of the poor sailors; but even
in thinking of them there is something that takes one's thoughts quite
away from one's self, and one's own worries and troubles--all the
marvellous stories of shipwreck and adventure, from Grace Darling to old
Sinbad, come rushing into one's mind, and one feels as if the sea were
the only part of the world worth living on.
But even at the seaside, regular, steady, "stupid" rainy days are
trying. Carrots sat at the nursery window one of these dull afternoons
looking out wistfully.
"Floss," he said, for Floss was sitting on the floor learning her
geography for the next day, "Floss, it _is_ so raining."
"I know," said Floss, stopping a minute in her "principal rivers of
northern Europe." "I wish there wasn't so much rain, and then there
wouldn't be so many rivers; or perhaps if there weren't so many rivers
there wouldn't be so much rain. I wonder which it is!"
"Which beginned first--rivers or rain?" said Carrots, meditatively,
"_that_ would tell."
"I'm sure I don't know, and I don't believe anybody does," said Floss,
going on again with her lesson. "Be quiet, Carrots, for one minute, and
then I'll talk to you."
Carrots sat silent for about a minute and a half; then he began again.
"Floss," he said.
"Well," replied Floss, "I've very nearly done, Carrots."
"It's werry dull to-day, Floss; the sea looks dull too, it isn't dancey
a bit to-day, and the sands look as if they would _never_ be nice for
running on again."
"Oh, but they will, Master Carrots," said nurse, who was sitting near,
busy darning stockings. "Dear, dear! don't I remember feeling just so
when I was a child? In winter thinking summer would never come, and in
summer forgetting all about winter!"
"Is it a werry long time since you were a child?" inquired Carrots,
directing his attention to nurse.
"It's getting on for a good long time, my dear," said nurse, with a
smile.
"Please tell me about it," said Carrots.
"Oh yes, nursie dear, do," said Floss, jumping up from the floor and
shutting her book. "I've done all my lessons, and it would just be nice
to have a story. It would amuse poor little Carrots."
"But you know all my stories as well, or even better, than I do myself,"
objected nurse, "not that they were ever much to tell, any of them."
"Oh yes, they were. They are very nice stories indeed," said Floss,
encouragingly. "And I'm very fond of what you call your mother's
stories, too--aren't you, Carrots?--about the children she was nurse
to--Master Hugh and Miss Janet. Tell us more about them, nursie."
"You've heard all the stories about them, my dears, I'm afraid," said
nurse. "At least, I can't just now think of any worth telling but what
you've heard."
"Well, let's hear some not worth the telling," said Floss, persistently.
"Nurse," she went on, "how old must Master Hugh and Miss Janet be by
now? Do you know where they are?"
"Master Hugh is dead," said nurse, "many a year ago, poor fellow, and
little Miss Janet--why she was fifteen years older than I; mother only
left them to be married when Miss Janet was past twelve. She must be
quite an old lady by now, if she is alive--with grandchildren as old as
you, perhaps! How strange it seems!"
"She must have been a very nice little girl, and so must Master Hugh
have been--a nice little boy, I mean. That story of 'Mary Ann Jolly' was
_so_ interesting. I suppose they _never_ did anything naughty?" said
Floss, insinuatingly.
"Oh, but they did," replied nurse, quite unsuspicious of the trap laid
for her. "Master Hugh was very mischievous. Did I never tell you what
they did to their dog Caesar?"
"No, never," said both the children in a breath; "do tell us."
"Well, it was one Sunday morning, to tell it as mother told me," began
nurse. "You know, my dears," she broke off again, "it was in Scotland,
and rather an out-of-the-way part where they lived. I know the place
well, of course, for it wasn't till I was seventeen past that I ever
left it. It is a pretty place, out of the way even now, I'm told, with
railways and all, and in those days it was even more out-of-the-way. Six
miles from the church, and the prayers and the sermon very long when you
got there! Many and many a time _I've_ fallen asleep at church, when I
was a little girl. Well, to go back to Master Hugh and Miss Janet. It
was on a Sunday morning they did the queer piece of mischief I'm going
to tell you of. They had been left at home with no one but an old woman,
who was too deaf to go to church, to look after them. She lived in the
lodge close by, and used to come into the house to help when the
servants were busy, for she was a very trusty old body. It was not often
the children were left without mother, or perhaps one of the housemaids,
to take care of them, and very often in fine weather they used to be
taken to church themselves, though it was tiring like for such young
things. But this Sunday, everybody had gone to church because it was the
time of the preachings----"
"The _what_, nurse?" said Floss. "Isn't there preaching every Sunday at
church?"
"Oh yes, my dear; but what we call the preachings in Scotland means the
time when there is the communion service, which is only twice a year.
You can't understand, my dear," seeing that Floss looked as mystified as
ever; "but never mind. When you are older, you will find that there are
many different ways of saying and doing the same things in churches,
just like among people. But this Sunday I am telling you of, the
services were to be very long indeed, too long for the children,
considering the six miles' drive and all. So they were left at home with
old Phemie."
"Did they mind?" said Carrots.
"Oh no; I fancy they were very well pleased. They were always very happy
together, the two of them and Caesar."
"And of course they promised to be very good," said Floss.
"No doubt of that," said nurse, with a smile. "Well, they certainly hit
upon a queer way of amusing themselves. Mother came home from church one
of the earliest; she had a lift in one of the farmer's carts, and came
in at the lodge gate just as the carriage with her master and mistress
and the young ladies was driving up. They all got out at the big gate,
and let the coachman drive round to the stable the back way, and mother
came quietly walking up the drive behind them. They were talking
seriously about the sermon they had heard, and feeling rather
solemn-like, I daresay, when all at once there flew down the drive to
meet them the most fearsome-like creature that ever was seen. It was
like nothing in nature, my mother said, about the size of a large wolf,
but with a queer-shaped head and body--at least they looked queer to
them, not knowing what it was--and not a particle of hair or coat of any
kind upon it. It rushed up to my lady, that was Miss Janet's mother, and
tried to leap upon her; but she shrieked to her husband, and he up with
his stick--he always took a stick about with him--and was just on the
point of giving it a fearful blow, never thinking but what it was one of
the beasts escaped from some travelling show, when one of the young
ladies caught his arm.
"'Stop, father!' she cried. 'Don't you see who it is? It's _Caesar_.'
"'_Caesar!_' said he. 'My dear, _that's_ never Caesar.'
"But Caesar it was, as they soon saw by the way he jumped and whined, and
seemed to beg them to understand he was himself. He was frightened out
of his wits, poor doggie, for he had never felt so queer before, and
couldn't understand what had come over him."
"And what _had_ come over him?" asked the children eagerly.
"Why, Master Hugh and Miss Janet had spent the morning in cropping him!"
replied nurse. "The hair, and he had great long thick hair, was cut off
as close and as neat as if it had been shaved; it was really wonderful
how clean they had done it without cutting or wounding the poor doggie.
They had taken great pains about it, and had spent the best part of the
morning over it--the two of them, Master Hughie with the great kitchen
scissors, and Miss Janet with a wee fine pair she had found in her
mamma's workbox, the little monkey! And such a sight as the kitchen
dresser was with hair! For they told how they had made Caesar jump up on
to the dresser and lie first on one side and then on the other, till all
was cut off."
"Were they punished?" asked Floss, anxiously. And at this question
Carrots looked very woebegone.
"They were _going_ to be," said nurse, "but somehow, I cannot justly say
how it was, they were let off. The whole thing was such a queer idea,
their father and mother could not but laugh at it, though they didn't
let the children see them. And what do you think my lady did? She took
all poor Caesar's hair and spun it up into worsted for knitting, mixing
it, of course, with long yarn."
"Did _she_ spin?" asked Floss. "I thought you said she was a lady."
"And that she was, Miss Flossie, and none the less so for being able to
spin and to knit, and to cook too, I daresay," said nurse. "But ladies,
and high born ones too, in those days turned their hands to many things
they think beneath them now. I know Miss Janet's mother would never have
thought of letting any one but herself wash up her breakfast and tea
services. The cups were a sight to be seen, certainly, of such beautiful
old china; they were worth taking care of; and that's how old china has
been kept together. There isn't much of what's in use now-a-days will go
down to your grand-children, and great grand-children, Miss Flossie,
with the smashing and dashing that goes on. My lady had a white wood
bowl kept on purpose, and a napkin of the finest damask, and a large
apron of fine holland that she put on, and, oh yes, a pair of
embroidered holland cuffs she used to draw on over her sleeves up to the
elbow; and a lady she looked, I can assure you, rinsing out and drying
her beautiful cups, with her pretty white hands!"
"Did you ever see her?" asked Floss.
"Yes, when she was getting to be quite an old lady, I've seen her
several times when I've been sent up a message by mother to the house.
For my mother was a great favourite of hers; I never went there but my
lady would have me in to have a piece."
"A _piece_?" repeated Floss.
Nurse laughed. "A slice of bread and jam, I should say, my dear. I
forget that I'm far away from the old life when I get to talking of
those days. And to think I'm getting on to be quite an old woman myself;
older in some ways than my lady ever was, for my hair is fast turning
grey, and hers had never a silver streak in it to the last day of her
life, and she died at eighty-four!"
Carrots was getting a little tired, for he hardly understood all that
nurse was saying. To create a diversion he climbed up on to her knee,
and began stroking her face.
"Never mind, nursie," he said. "I'll always love you, even when your
hair's _kite_ grey, and I would marry you if you like when I'm big, only
I've promised to marry Floss."
"Oh you funny little Carrots," said Floss. "But, nurse," she went on,
"what did Janet's mamma do with the hair when she had spun it?"
"She knitted it into a pair of stockings for Master Hughie," said nurse;
"but they weren't much use. They were well enough to look at, but no
mortal boy could have worn them without his legs being skinned, they
_were_ so pricky."
"And what became of Caesar?" said Floss. "Did his hair ever grow again?"
"Oh yes," said nurse, "in time it did, though I believe it never again
looked quite so silky and nice. But Caesar lived to a good old age, for
all that. He didn't catch cold, for my lady made mother make him a coat
of a bit of soft warm cloth, which he wore for some time."
"How funny he must have looked," said Floss.
"What are you talking about?" said a voice behind her, and turning
round, Floss saw Cecil, who had come into the room without their hearing
her.
"About a doggie," answered Carrots. "Oh, Cis, nurse has been telling us
such a lubly story about a doggie. Nursie, dear, won't you tell us
another to-morrow?"
"My stories are all worn out, my dear," said nurse, shaking her head.
"Couldn't _you_ tell us one, Cis?" said Carrots.
"Make up one, do you mean?" said Cecil. "No, indeed, I'm sure I never
could. Are they always at you to tell them stories, nurse? If so, I pity
you."
"Poor little things," said nurse, "it's dull for them these wet days,
Miss Cecil, and Master Carrots' cold has been bad."
Cecil looked at her little brother's pale face as he sat nestling in
nurse's arms, and a queer new feeling of compunction seized her.
"I couldn't _tell_ you a story," she said; "but if you like, the first
afternoon it's rainy, and you can't go out, I'll _read_ you one. Miss
Barclay lent me a funny old-fashioned little book the other day, and
some of the stories in it are fairy ones. Would you like that, Carrots?"
Floss clapped her hands, and Carrots slid down from nurse's knee, and
coming quietly up to Cecil, threw his arms round her neck, and gave her
a kiss.
"I hope it'll rain to-morrow," he said, gravely.
"It _is_ kind of Miss Cecil," said nurse; and as Cecil left the nursery
she added to herself, "it will be a comfort to her mother if she begins
to take thought for the little ones, and I've always felt sure it was in
her to do so, if only she could get into the way of it."