who too soon found out the havoc that had been made, and demanded how
it happened. All the children would willingly have screened Dicky,
because they knew he had not done it to frighten, but to amuse them.
Master Snapper, however, now thinking it was his turn, in a very
ill-natured speech made the worst of the story. But the spiteful way
in which he spoke did little Dick no harm, as he seemed more rejoiced
at his misfortune than sorry for Mr. Random's loss; hence it had the
effect not to increase the latter's anger.
"Playing with balancing poles and pistols," said Mr. Random in a stern
accent to his son, "is very well in a proper place, but quite
inadmissible in a room full of company. Now, sir, what business had
you to take this pistol out of my room?"
"Indeed, father," said Dicky, crying, "I did not know it was loaded."
"It is but last week," continued his father, "that you were told never
to take such a thing without asking, and not even then till some one
had tried if it were loaded. So many accidents have happened with
firearms which have been supposed not to be loaded, that he who
unguardedly shoots another ought to take a similar chance for his own
life; for you know the Scripture says: 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth
for a tooth.' Think, Richard, that if I had been standing before the
mirror, what would have been the consequence. You would have shot your
father! Your mother would have died of grief, and you and Letitia have
been orphans!"
"Ah, then I should have died too!" said Dicky, wiping the tears from
his eyes with the back of his hand. "But how came you to load the
pistol last night, father?"
"Because," replied his father, "I thought I heard something fall in
the parlor, and the passage-door being directly after shut to in a
still manner. I loaded the pistols, thinking that thieves had broken
into the house, and pushed up the sash to shoot the first that came
out."
"Then it was lucky," said Richard, "I did not come out again, or you
might have killed me; for I got up in the night to let Juno out of the
shed, where I had tied her up, and she was making a sad howling.
Indeed, before I was aware, she ran into the parlor, and, as it was
quite dark, I tumbled over her."
"And broke the geranium tree," added his father.
"Yes, I did indeed," said Dicky, "but I did not go to do it. After
that I turned Juno into the yard, and this I dare say is all the noise
you heard."
"There is an old saying, my dear little friends," said Mr. Random,
"which I wish you to attend to, because it has a great deal of truth
in it: '_The pitcher that goes often safe to the well may come home
broken at last_.' And so, though the thoughtless and giddy may go on
for a long while without danger, it will overtake them sooner or
later. Here is a strong instance of escape from the consequences which
might have attended Richard's thoughtlessness; besides which, his
mother could get no more sleep all night, and I, after running the
risk of catching cold in searching over the house, have this morning
been at the expense of new fastenings to the doors and windows. The
next time, however, you rise, Richard, to alarm the family, you shall
in future roost with the hens or bed in the stable."
Dicky now thought that his parent's resentment had subsided, and, upon
the latter's calling to him to come, he sprang across the room with
the greatest alertness; but how suddenly was his smile cast down when
Mr, Random, taking his hand, ordered him to wish his young friends
much mirth and a good appetite, while he was going to be punished for
his misconduct. At once were all their little hands put out to prevent
Mr. Random's resolution of taking him away, but all their petitions
were in vain. Richard was forced into an empty cellar, and left with
no other companion than a glimmering rushlight. Here he was told he
might do as much mischief as he pleased. The iron bars kept him from
getting out on one side, and the door was padlocked on the other. In
this dilemma he marched round and round, crying, with his little
candle, and saw stuck on the walls the following lines:
"Empty caves and commons wild
Best befit a thoughtless child,
A solid wall, an earthen floor,
Prison lights, a padlock'd door,
Where's no plaything which he may
Turn to harm by random play,
For in such sport too oft is found
A penny-toy will cost a pound.
Be wise and merry;---play, but think;
For danger stands on folly's brink."
After having been kept in confinement nearly half an hour, Mr. Random
could no longer resist the pressing solicitations of his son's guests,
who declined partaking of the supper till Richard was returned to
them.
Having learned the above lines by heart, he repeated them to his young
company, and, on his promising to remember their contents, he was
permitted to sit down to table.
The rest of the evening was spent in innocent cheerfulness, and for
some time after little Random played with more caution.
We must omit many of the less important neglects of young Random, such
as letting the toast fall in handling it, shooting his arrow through
the window, riding a long stick where it might throw persons down,
leaving things in the way at dark, etc., and proceed to relate a
good-natured fancy of his which tended more than any of the preceding
events, to show him the folly of taking any step without first looking
to what it might lead.
In Mr. Random's garden was a fine tall pear-tree, and that year a very
fine pear grew on the topmost twig. His mother and sister had several
times wished for the luscious fruit, but it seemed to bid defiance to
every attack that was not aided by a tall ladder. "Oh!" thought Dicky,
"if I can get it down and present it to my mother, how pleased she
will be!" So, when he was alone, he picked out some large stones and
threw at it, but without any success. The next day he renewed his
attack in the evening, and to insure a better chance employed several
large pieces of brick and tile.
Now all these dangerous weapons went over into a poor man's garden,
where his son and some other boys were weeding it. One of them fell
upon the little fellow's leg, and cut it in so desperate a manner that
he cried out, quite terrified at the blow and sight of the blood. The
other boys directly took the alarm, and picking up some stones as
large as that which had done the mischief, they mounted on a high
bench, and discharged such a well-directed volley at the person of
Master Random that he was most violently struck upon the nose, and
knocked backwards into a glass cucumber-frame.
Here he lay in a most pitiable condition, calling upon his mother,
while the wounded boy on the other side joined in the concert of woe.
"Oh, it served you rightly!" exclaimed the young assailants, who were
looking over the wall, and ran away as soon as they saw Mr. Random
come into the garden to inquire the cause of the uproar.
His first concern was to carry Dicky indoors, and then, having wiped
away the blood and tears, he asked him how it happened.
"I was only trying to get a pear for my mother," said Richard, "when
these boys threw stones at me, and hit me!"
"That was very cruel," said his father, "to meddle with you when you
were doing nothing to them, and if I can find them out they shall be
punished for it."
Mr. Random immediately set off to the next house, but was met at his
own door by the father of the wounded boy, who was coming with him in
his arms to demand satisfaction. This brought the whole truth out, and
the artful little fellow was found to have concealed a part of the
real case. Instead of saying "he was only getting a pear," he should
have said that he was throwing large stones at the topmost pear on the
tree, and that every stone went over the wall, he could not tell
where.
"Ah, Richard," said his father, "it is little better than
story-telling to conceal a part of the truth. The affair now wears
quite a new face. It was you that gave the first assault, and will
have to answer for all the bad consequences. It is my duty to see that
this unoffending boy is taken care of; but if his leg be so cut or
bruised that he cannot get so good a living when he comes to be a man
as he might otherwise have done, how would you like to make up the
deficiency? You cannot doubt that he has a demand upon you equal to
the damage you may have done to him. He is poor, and his father must
send him to the hospital, but it would be unjust of me to suffer it.
No, on the contrary, I shall prevent this by taking him home and
sending you there, where Dr. Hardheart makes his patients smart before
he cures them. Come, get ready to go, for delays in wounds of the head
are not to be trifled with."
Mr. Random then ordered the servant to go for a coach, in which Dicky
most certainly would have been sent off had not word been brought back
that there was not a coach on the stand. During this time Dicky had
fallen on his knees, entreating that he might remain at home, and
offering promises to be less heedless in future; nay, he was willing
to yield up all his toys to the maimed little gardener.
The boy's father, though but a laboring man, had a generous mind; he
wanted nothing of this kind, but only wished him to be more cautious
in future, as the same stones, thrown at random, might have either
blinded his son or fractured his skull, instead of merely hurting his
leg. Mr. Random then insisted on Richard's giving him half-a-crown,
and asking pardon for the misfortune occasioned by his carelessness.
This heavy sum was directly taken out of the hoard which had been laid
by for the purchase of a set of drawing instruments, but he had a yet
heavier account to settle with his father for damaging the
cucumber-frame. He had broken as much of it as would come to fifteen
shillings to mend, and as payment was insisted on, or close
confinement until the whole was settled, he was compelled to transfer
to his father all his receipts for the ensuing five months before he
could again resume his scheme of laying by an adequate sum to purchase
the drawing utensils. Independently of which he always carried a
strong memorial of his folly on his nose, which was so scarred that he
endured many a joke, as it were, to keep alive in his memory the
effect of his folly. Indeed, he never looked in the glass without
seeing his reproach in his face, and thus at length learned never to
play without first thinking if it were at a proper time and in a
proper place.
EMBELLISHMENT
By JACOB ABBOTT
One day Beechnut, who had been ill, was taken by Phonny and Madeline
for a drive. When Phonny and Madeline found themselves riding quietly
along in the wagon in Beechnut's company, the first thought which
occurred to them, after the interest and excitement awakened by the
setting out had passed in some measure away, was that they would ask
him to tell them a story. This was a request which they almost always
made in similar circumstances. In all their rides and rambles
Beechnut's stories were an unfailing resource, furnishing them with an
inexhaustible fund of amusement sometimes, and sometimes of
instruction.
"Well," said Beechnut, in answer to their request, "I will tell you
now about my voyage across the Atlantic Ocean."
"Yes," exclaimed Madeline, "I should like to hear about that very much
indeed."
"Shall I tell the story to you just as it was," asked Beechnut, "as a
sober matter of fact, or shall I embellish it a little?"
"I don't know what you mean by embellishing it," said Madeline.
"Why, not telling exactly what is true," said Beechnut, "but inventing
something to add to it, to make it interesting."
"I want to have it true," said Madeline, "and interesting, too."
"But sometimes," replied Beechnut, "interesting things don't happen,
and in such cases, if we should only relate what actually does happen,
the story would be likely to be dull."
"I think you had better embellish the story a little," said
Phonny--"just a _little_, you know."
"I don't think I can do that very well," replied Beechnut. "If I
attempt to relate the actual acts, I depend simply on my memory, and I
can confine myself to what my memory teaches; but if I undertake to
follow my invention, I must go wherever it leads me."
"Well," said Phonny, "I think you had better embellish the story, at
any rate, for I want it to be interesting."
"So do I," said Madeline.
"Then," said Beechnut, "I will give you an embellished account of my
voyage across the Atlantic. But, in the first place, I must tell you
how it happened that my father decided to leave Paris and come to
America. It was mainly on my account. My father was well enough
contented with his situation so far as he himself was concerned, and
he was able to save a large part of his salary, so as to lay up a
considerable sum of money every year; but he was anxious about me.
"There seemed to be nothing," continued Beechnut, "for me to do, and
nothing desirable for me to look forward to, when I should become a
man. My father thought, therefore, that, though it would perhaps be
better for _him_ to remain in France, It would probably be better for
_me_ if he should come to America, where he said people might rise in
the world, according to their talents, thrift, and industry. He was
sure, he said, that I should rise, for, you must understand, he
considered me an extraordinary boy."
"Well," said Phonny, "_I_ think you were an extraordinary boy."
"Yes, but my father thought," rejoined Beechnut, "that I was something
very extraordinary indeed. He thought I was a genius."
"So do I," said Phonny.
"He said," continued Beechnut, "he thought it would in the end be a
great deal better for him to come to America, where I might become a
man of some consequence in the world, and he said that he should enjoy
his own old age a great deal better, even in a strange land, if he
could see me going on prosperously in life, than to remain all his
days in that porter's lodge.
"All the money that my father had saved," Beechnut continued, "he got
changed into gold at an office in the Bouleyard; but then he was very
much perplexed to decide how it was best to carry it."
"Why did he not pack it up in his chest?" asked Phonny.
"He was afraid," replied Beechnut, "that his chest might be broken
open, or unlocked by false keys, on the voyage, and that the money
might be thus stolen away; so he thought that he would try to hide it
somewhere in some small thing that he could keep with him all the
voyage."
"Could not he keep his chest with him all the voyage?" asked Phonny.
"No," said Beechnut; "the chests, and all large parcels of baggage
belonging to the passengers, must be sent down into the hold of the
ship out of the way. It is only a very little baggage that the people
are allowed to keep with them between the decks. My father wished very
much to keep his gold with him, and yet he was afraid to keep it in a
bag, or in any other similar package, in his little trunk, for then
whoever saw it would know that it was gold, and so perhaps form some
plan to rob him of it.
"While we were considering what plan it would be best to adopt for the
gold, Arielle, who was the daughter of a friend of ours, proposed to
hide it in my _top_. I had a very large top which my father had made
for me. It was painted yellow outside, with four stripes of bright
blue passing down over it from the stem to the point. When the top was
in motion, both the yellow ground and the blue stripes entirely
disappeared, and the top appeared to be of a uniform green color.
Then, when it came to its rest again, the original colors would
reappear."
"How curious!" said Madeline. "Why would it do so?" "Why, when it was
revolving," said Beechnut, "the yellow and the blue were blended
together in the eye, and that made green. Yellow and blue always make
green. Arielle colored my top, after my father had made it, and then
my father varnished it over the colors, and that fixed them.
"This top of mine was a monstrous large one, and being hollow, Arielle
thought that the gold could all be put inside. She said she thought
that that would be a very safe hiding-place, too, since nobody would
think of looking into a top for gold. But my father said that he
thought that the space would not be quite large enough, and then if
anybody should happen to see the top, and should touch it, the weight
of it would immediately reveal the secret.
"At last my father thought of a plan which he believed would answer
the purpose very perfectly. We had a very curious old clock. It was
made by my grandfather, who was a clockmaker in Geneva. There was a
little door in the face of the clock, and whenever the time came for
striking the hours, this door would open, and a little platform would
come out with a tree upon it. There was a beautiful little bird upon
the tree, and when the clock had done striking, the bird would flap
its wings and sing. Then the platform would slide back into its place,
the door would shut, and the clock go on ticking quietly for another
hour.
"This clock was made to go," continued Beechnut, "as many other clocks
are, by two heavy weights, which were hung to the wheel-work by strong
cords. The cords were wound round some of the wheels, and as they
slowly descended by their weight, they made the wheels go round. There
was a contrivance inside the clock to make the wheels go slowly and
regularly, and not spin round too fast, as they would have done if the
weights had been left to themselves. This is the way that clocks are
often made.
"Now, my father," continued Beechnut, "had intended to take this old
family clock with him to America, and he now conceived the idea of
hiding his treasure in the weights. The weights were formed of two
round tin canisters filled with something very heavy. My father said
he did not know whether it was shot or sand. He unsoldered the bottom
from these canisters, and found that the filling was shot. He poured
out the shot, put his gold pieces in in place of it, and then filled
up all the interstices between and around the gold pieces with sand,
to prevent the money from jingling. Then he soldered the bottom of the
canisters on again, and no one would have known that the weights were
anything more than ordinary clock-weights. He then packed the clock in
a box, and put the box in his trunk. It did not take up a great deal
of room, for he did not take the case of the clock, but only the face
and the works and the two weights, which last he packed carefully and
securely in the box, one on each side of the clock itself.
"When we got to Havre, all our baggage was examined at the Custom
House, and the officers allowed it all to pass. When they came to the
clock, my father showed them the little door and the bird inside, and
they said it was very curious. They did not pay any attention to the
weights at all.
"When we went on board of the vessel our chests were put by the side
of an immense heap of baggage upon the deck, where some seamen were at
work lowering it down into the hold through a square opening in the
deck of the ship. As for the trunk, my father took that with him to
the place where he was going to be himself during the voyage. This
place was called the steerage. It was crowded full of men, women, and
children, all going to America. Some talked French, some German, some
Dutch, and there were ever so many babies that were too little to talk
at all. Pretty soon the vessel sailed.
"We did not meet with anything remarkable on the voyage, except that
once we saw an iceberg."
"What is that?" asked Madeline.
"It is a great mountain of ice," replied Beechnut, "floating about in
the sea on the top of the water. I don't know how it comes to be
there."
"I should not think it would float upon the top of the water," said
Phonny. "All the ice that I ever saw in the water sinks into it."
"It does not sink to the bottom," said Madeline.
"No," replied Phonny, "but it sinks down until the top of the ice is
just level with the water. But Beechnut says that his iceberg rose up
like a mountain."
"Yes," said Beechnut, "it was several hundred feet high above the
water, all glittering in the sun. And I think that if you look at any
small piece of ice floating in the water, you will see that a small
part of it rises above the surface."
"Yes," said Phenny, "a very little."
"It is a certain proportion of the whole mass," rejoined Beechnut.
"They told us on board our vessel that about one-tenth part of the
iceberg was above the water; the rest--that is, nine-tenths--was under
it; so you see what an enormous big piece of ice it must have been to
have only one-tenth part of it tower up so high.
"There was one thing very curious and beautiful about our iceberg,"
said Beechnut. "We came in sight of it one day about sunset, just
after a shower. The cloud, which was very large and black, had passed
off into the west, and there was a splendid rainbow upon it. It
happened, too, that when we were nearest to the iceberg it lay toward
the west, and, of course, toward the cloud, and it appeared directly
under the rainbow, and the iceberg and the rainbow made a most
magnificent spectacle. The iceberg, which was very bright and dazzling
in the evening sun, looked like an enormous diamond, with the rainbow
for the setting."
"How curious!" said Phonny.
"Yes," said Beechnut, "and to make it more remarkable still, a whale
just then came along directly before the iceberg, and spouted there
two or three times; and as the sun shone very brilliantly upon the jet
of water which the whale threw into the air, it made a sort of silver
rainbow below in the center of the picture."
"How beautiful it must have been!" said Phonny.
"Yes," rejoined Beechnut, "very beautiful indeed. We saw a great many
beautiful spectacles on the sea; but then, on the other hand, we saw
some that were dreadful.
"Did you?" asked Phonny. "What?"
"Why, we had a terrible storm and shipwreck at the end," said
Beechnut. "For three days and three nights the wind blew almost a
hurricane. They took in all the sails, and let the ship drive before
the gale under bare poles. She went on over the seas for five hundred
miles, howling all the way like a frightened dog."
"Were you frightened?" asked Phonny.
"Yes," said Beechnut. "When the storm first came on, several of the
passengers came up the hatchways and got up on the deck to see it; and
then we could not get down again, for the ship gave a sudden pitch
just after we came up, and knocked away the step-ladder. We were
terribly frightened. The seas were breaking over the forecastle and
sweeping along the decks, and the shouts and outcries of the captain
and the sailors made a dreadful din. At last they put the step-ladder
in its place again, and we got down. Then they put the hatches on, and
we could not come out any more."
"The hatches?" said Phonny. "What are they?"
"The hatches," replied Beechnut, "are a sort of scuttle-doors that
cover over the square openings in the deck of a ship. They always have
to put them on and fasten them down in a great storm."
Just at this time the party happened to arrive at a place where two
roads met, and as there was a broad and level space of ground at the
junction, where it would be easy to turn the wagon, Beechnut said that
he thought it would be better to make that the end of their ride, and
so turn round and go home. Phonny and Madeline were quite desirous of
going a little farther, but Beechnut thought that he should be tired
by the time he reached the house again.
"But you will not have time to finish the story," said Phonny.
"Yes," replied Beechnut; "there is very little more to tell. It is
only to give an account of our shipwreck."
"Why, did you have a shipwreck?" exclaimed Phonny.
"Yes," said Beechnut. "When you have turned the wagon, I will tell you
about it."
So Phonny, taking a great sweep, turned the wagon round, and the party
set their faces toward home. The Marshal was immediately going to set
out upon a trot, but Phonny held him back by pulling upon the reins
and saying:
"Steady, Marshal! steady! You have got to walk all the way home."
"The storm drove us upon the Nova Scotia coast," said Beechnut,
resuming his story. "We did not know anything about the great danger
that we were in until just before the ship went ashore. When we got
near the shore the sailors put down all the anchors; but they would
not hold, and at length the ship struck. Then there followed a
dreadful scene of consternation and confusion. Some jumped into the
sea in their terror, and were drowned. Some cried and screamed, and
acted as if they were insane. Some were calm, and behaved rationally.
The sailors opened the hatches and let the passengers come up, and we
got into the most sheltered places that we could find about the decks
and rigging, and tied ourselves to whatever was nearest at hand. My
father opened his trunk and took out his two clock-weights, and gave
me one of them; the other he kept himself. He told me that we might as
well try to save them, though he did not suppose that we should be
able to do so.