receive the reward of her good conduct in this world; for though her
body is in the earth, her spirit is in heaven."
"And shall I never see my own dear mother again?" said Clara.
"Yes, Miss Clara; if you are good, you will go to heaven when you die,
and become an angel like her."
"Then," said Clara, "I will pray to God to make me good, and when I am
going to do anything wrong I will say to myself, 'If I do this, I
shall never go to heaven, and see my dear mother when I die.'"
"I wish," said nurse, "that Master Charles was like you, and would try
to be good."
But though Charles was sometimes sorry for his bad behavior, he did
not try to mend, because he thought it was too much trouble to be
good, and said he did not care, because he was the son of a gentleman.
Charles did not know that at this very time his father had spent all
his money, and owed a great many debts to different people; and at
last he ran away that he might not be put in prison; and the people to
whom he owed so much money came and seized his fine house and gardens,
and the coach, and all the furniture, and sold them by auction, to
raise money to pay the debts; so Charles found that, instead of being
rich, he was now very, very poor.
When the auction was over and all the things were sold, and it was
getting quite dark (for it was in the month of November), Clara and
Charles stood in one of the empty parlors, and wondered what they
should do for supper, and where they should sleep that night; for all
the beds were sold, and they saw the servants go away one after
another.
At last nurse came in with her bonnet and cloak, and said: "Miss
Clara, I am going away to my own cottage, and as you have always been
a kind, good child, you shall go with me, and I will take care of
you."
Then Clara said, "Thank you; but will you not take Charles also?"
"No," said nurse; "he has always been such a proud bad boy that I will
not take him. I have very little to spare, for I am a poor woman, and
what I have is not more than will keep my own children and you, Miss
Clara."
Saying this, she got into the cart, and took Clara on her lap, and one
of the footmen got in after her, and drove away from the door.
Charles stood on the step of the door, and looked after them till they
were out of sight; and then he began to cry as if his heart would
break. The servant of the gentleman who had purchased the house came
and locked the door, so Charles could not get in any more, and he sat
down on the stone steps, and covered his face with his hands, and
cried bitterly.
"Unhappy child that I am," sobbed he; "what will become of me? Oh, if
I had but been good like Clara, I should have found a friend, as she
has; but no one cares what becomes of me, because I have been so
wicked. I used to despise the poor, and God, to punish me, has made me
poor indeed."
It was very cold, and the snow began to fall fast, and it grew quite
dark. Charles rested his head on his knees, and was afraid to look
round; his clothes were almost wet through, and his limbs were
benumbed with cold; he had no place where he could ask shelter, for no
one loved him; and he thought he should be obliged to stay there all
night, and perhaps be frozen to death.
Just then some one softly touched his hand, and said: "Master Charles,
I have been looking for you for more than an hour."
Charles looked up; but when he saw it was Giles Bloomfield who had
come to seek him in his distress, he remembered how ill he had behaved
to him, so he hid his face, and began to weep afresh.
Then Giles sat down by him on the steps, and said: "Dear Master
Charles, you must not stay here. See how fast it snows. You will catch
your death of cold."
"Yes, I am very cold and hungry," sobbed Charles, "but I have no home
now; I have nowhere else to go, and must stay here all night."
"No, Master Charles," said Giles, "you shall come home with me, and
shall share my supper and my bed, though it is not such as you have
been used to; notwithstanding we are very poor, we will do our best to
make you comfortable."
"Oh, Giles!" said Charles, throwing his arms round Giles's neck, "I do
not deserve this kindness; I have been such a proud, wicked boy, and
have treated you so ill. I am sure you can never forgive me for having
taken your pretty Snowball; and if _you_ forgive me, I can never
forgive myself."
"Dear Master Charles, do not think of that now," said Giles, taking
both Charles's cold hands in his. "Indeed, Master Charles, I should
never dare say my prayers if I was so wicked as to bear malice; and,
now you are in distress, I would do anything in my power to serve you.
So pray come home with me, and warm yourself, and get some supper."
But Charles hid his face on Giles's bosom, and cried the more; at last
he said:
"Giles, I am so ashamed of having behaved so cruelly to you, that I
can never go to your home, and eat the food that you are obliged to
labor so hard for."
"Master Charles," said Giles, "that is because you are so proud."
"Oh no, no!" sobbed Charles, "I am not proud now, and I think I shall
never be proud again." So he kissed Giles, and they both went home to
Dame Bloomfield's cottage together.
When Giles's mother saw Charles, she said: "Why did you bring this
proud, cross, young gentleman here, Giles?"
Charles, when he heard her say so, thought he should be turned out
again into the cold, and began to cry afresh; but Giles said:
"Dear mother, Master Charles has no home to go to now; he is cold and
hungry; I am sure you will let him stay here, and share my bed and my
supper."
"He can stay here if he likes," said Dame Bloomfield; "but you know,
Giles, we are forced to work hard for what food we have, and I am sure
we cannot afford to maintain Master Charles."
"Then," said Giles, "he shall have my supper to-night: he wants it
more than I do, for he has had no food all day."
"You may please yourself about that, Giles: but remember, if you give
your food to Master Charles, you must go without yourself."
"Well," said Giles, "I shall feel more pleasure in giving my supper to
Master Charles than in eating it myself."
So he brought a stool, and, placing it in the warmest corner by the
fire, made Charles sit down, and chafed his cold frozen hands, and
tried to comfort him; for Charles was greatly afflicted when he saw
that everyone hated him; but he knew that it was his own fault, and a
just punishment for his pride and bad conduct.
When Giles brought his basin of hot milk and bread for his supper, he
could not thank him for crying; and he was ashamed to eat it while
Giles went without; but he was so hungry, and the milk looked so nice,
that he did not know how to refuse it; and Giles begged him so
earnestly to eat that at last he did so, and once more felt warm and
comfortable.
Then Giles said to him: "Now, Master Charles, will you go to bed? Mine
is but a coarse, hard bed, but it is very clean." So he took the lamp
to show Charles the way to the chamber in which he was to sleep.
Charles was surprised at seeing no staircase, but only a ladder. Giles
laughed when he saw how Charles stared, and he said:
"You have been used to live in a grand house, Master Charles, and know
nothing of the shifts the poor are forced to make."
Then Charles climbed up the ladder, and Giles showed him a little
room, not much larger than a closet, with no furniture in it, but a
stump bed without any hangings, and covered with a coarse, woolen
rug. Charles Grant had never even seen such a bed before, but he was
thankful that he could get any place to sleep in, out of the cold and
snow.
Giles helped Charles to undress, for Charles was so helpless he did
not know how to undress himself. When he was going to step into bed,
Giles exclaimed:
"Will you not say your prayers before you go to bed, Master Charles?"
Charles blushed and hung down his head, for he had been so naughty
that he had not said his prayers for a long time past, and had almost
forgotten what his dear mother had taught him; and he told Giles so at
last.
"Dear, dear!" said Giles, "I never dare go to bed without saying
mine."
Then Charles said: "I am sorry I have been so naughty as to forget my
prayers; will you teach me yours, and I will never forget them again?"
Then they both knelt down by the side of the little bed, and Giles
taught Charles such prayers as he knew, and Charles went to bed much
happier than he had been for a long time.
Though the bed was hard, and the sheets brown and coarse, Charles was
so weary that he soon fell asleep, and slept so soundly that he did
not awake till it was broad day, and Giles was up and gone to work in
the fields.
When Charles looked round he thought he had never seen such a shabby
room in his life. There was not so much as a chair or table or carpet
in it; he could see all the thatch and the rafters in the roof, for
the chamber was not even ceiled, but showed the thatch and rafters,
and, as I said before, there was not a single article of furniture in
the room, except the bed. How different from the pretty little chamber
in which Charles used to sleep, with the nice white dimity
window-curtains and hangings and mahogany tent-bed, with such
comfortable bedding and handsome white counterpane! However, he now
thought himself very fortunate that he had any roof to shelter him, or
any bed, however homely it might be, on which he could sleep.
He thought he should like to get up and go downstairs, but he had
always been used to have a servant to dress him, and he did not know
how to dress himself, so while he was considering what he should do
Giles came into the chamber. He had returned to get his breakfast, and
not seeing Charles downstairs he concluded the cause of his absence,
and came to assist him to dress. Charles observed how this matter was
arranged, and resolved to do it for himself the next morning.
When he was dressed they both knelt down by the bedside and said their
prayers, for though Giles had said his at the dawn of day, yet he
never omitted an opportunity of repeating his thanksgivings and
praises to his heavenly Father for the mercies and blessings which he
enjoyed through His grace, for Giles possessed a grateful and
contented heart, which made him look upon that state of life unto
which it had pleased God to call him, as that which was meet and fit
for him, so he worked hard, and ate the bread of labor with
cheerfulness and satisfaction.
When Charles and Giles joined the family below Dame Bloomfield set a
porringer of milk and a piece of brown bread for every one but
Charles, who looked ready to cry, but Giles put his porringer before
him, and gave him another spoon, and said: "Master Charles, we will
eat together, for there will be enough for both of us." The tears came
into Charles's eyes, and he whispered: "Dear Giles, you are very
good." So these boys ate out of the same porringer, and broke of the
same bread.
After breakfast Giles went out to work, and Charles thought it very
dull till he returned to dinner. When Dame Bloomfield gave her
children their dinners there was a dumpling for everyone but Charles;
then Giles cut his dumpling in half, and gave one part to Charles, and
ate the other half himself. Now this was very good of Giles, for he
was very hungry himself, but he could not bear to see Charles sad and
hungry while he was eating, and Giles liked to do good because he knew
it was pleasing to God.
As soon as dinner was over, Giles went out to work again, and Charles
was as dull as he had been in the morning, for all the family were at
work in some way or other, and could not spare time to amuse or talk
to him, and he did nothing but sigh and fret to himself till evening,
when Giles came home from work.
Giles's eldest sister made a bright fire, and they all sat round it
and talked and told stories, and Giles nursed the baby, and played
with the other little ones, and seemed quite happy, and so he was, for
he had done his duty, and every one loved him for being so good.
After supper Giles taught those of his sisters who were old enough to
read and write, and when they had finished learning their tasks
Charles took up the book, and said: "Giles, will you teach me to
read?" and Giles said: "Certainly, Master Charles, but I am sure you
must know how to read a great deal better than such a poor boy as I
am."
"I might have done so," said Charles, "but Giles, I was a sad,
naughty, perverse boy, and hated to learn any thing that was good; but
I hope I know better now, and if you will only take the trouble of
teaching me I will try and make up for my lost time."
So Giles gave Charles a lesson that very night, and every evening
after supper he heard him read and spell what he had learned during
the day, and Charles took such pains that he soon began to read so
well that he used to amuse himself by reading pretty stories, and by
teaching little Betty, one of Giles's youngest sisters, to read.
Still Charles used to be exceedingly hungry, for he had not more than
half the quantity of food he was used to eat, and Giles was hungry
too, and grew pale and thin.
Then Charles said to himself: "It is not right for me to eat the bread
which poor Giles works so hard to earn; I will try and get my own
living, for why should I not do so, as well as Giles?" So one morning,
when Giles rose, as usual, at five o'clock, Charles got up too. Then
Giles said:
"Why do you rise so early this cold morning, Master Charles?"
"Because I am going out to work with you, Giles, if you will permit
me," answered Charles.
"Oh, Master Charles, such work as I do is not fit for a young
gentleman like you," said Giles.
"You must not call me a young gentleman _now_, for I am only a poor
boy, and poorer than other poor boys, for they can earn their own
living, while I should have been starved to death had not you given me
half of the bread you work so hard for. But I will not be a burthen to
you any longer, but learn to work and get my own living as you do."
Charles now meant to keep his word, and they both went out into the
fields, and worked together at picking stones off the young crops of
wheat and clover, and before breakfast. Giles had picked up two
bushels of stones and Charles one, and the farmer gave them a penny
per bushel for gathering them up.
Then they made haste back to the cottage, and Giles gave his mother
the money he had earned, and Charles did the same, and when the dame
poured out the milk for the family Charles saw that she filled a
porringer for him also, and they had all a good breakfast that
morning, and Charles felt quite happy because he had not eaten the
bread of idleness. So he went out to work with Giles again, and earned
twopence before dinner.
When Dame Bloomfield took up the dumplings Charles saw there was one
for him, and he felt happy that poor Giles had not to deprive himself
of half his food that he might eat.
Charles went out to work every day with Giles, and in the evening he
learned to read and write. He became quite good and gentle, and
enjoyed more happiness than he had experienced in his life before, And
why was Charles happy? I will tell you, my dear children. Because he
was no longer a proud, froward boy as he had been, but was kind and
sweet-tempered to every one, and did his duty both to God and himself.
The winter passed swiftly away, and the spring came, and the birds
began to sing, and the trees looked green and gay, and the pretty
flowers bloomed in the gardens and covered the meadows all over, and
scented the air with their fragrance, and Charles thought it very
pleasant to work in the fields, and hear the birds sing as they tended
their young, or built their nests among the green boughs or in the
hedges.
One day Giles said to Charles: "Master Charles, we cannot work
together in the fields any more; I have got a new employment"
"But why cannot I work with you?" asked Charles.
"Because, sir, you will not like to work where I am going," answered
Giles. Charles asked where that was. "In the garden of the great
house, Master Charles, where you used to live," said Giles.
Charles looked very sorrowful, and remained silent for some minutes;
at last he said: "Well, Giles, I will go with you; my clothes are
grown shabby now, and nobody will know me, and if they did I hope I am
too wise to be ashamed of doing my duty, so let us go directly."
Then Giles took Charles into the garden, and the gardener gave them
each a hoe and a rake, and told them to hoe up the weeds on the flower
borders, and then rake them neatly over, and promised if they worked
well he would give them eight-pence per day.
Now this was much pleasanter than picking stones in the field, but
Charles was very sad, and could not refrain from shedding tears when
he thought of the time when he used to play in that very garden, and
he thought, too, of his dear mamma who was dead, and of his sister
Clara, whom he had not seen for so many months, but he worked as hard
as he could, and the gardener praised them both, and he gave them a
basket to put the weeds in, and showed them how to rake the borders
smooth.
Just as they had finished the job, and Charles was saying to Giles,
"How neat our work looks!" a little boy, dressed very fine, came into
the garden, and, as he passed them, said: "I am glad I am a
gentleman's son, and not obliged to work like these dirty boys."
When Charles thought the little boy was out of hearing, he said to
Giles: "That little boy is as wicked as I used to be, and I doubt not
but that God will punish him in the same way if he does not mend his
manners."
The little boy, who had overheard what Charles said, was very angry,
and made ugly faces, and ran into the newly-raked beds, and covered
them with footmarks. Then Charles said: "I am sorry for you, young
gentleman, for I see you are not good."
"How dare you say I am not good?" said this naughty child. "I am a
great deal better than you, for I am a gentleman, and you are only a
poor boy."
"Yes," said Charles, his eyes filling with tears as he spoke, "I am,
indeed, only a poor boy _now_, but I was once rich like you, and lived
in this very house, and wore fine clothes, and had plenty of toys and
money, and was just as proud and naughty as you are, but God, to
punish me, took away my parents and all those things that I had been
so proud of, and that I had made such a bad use of, and reduced me to
a poor boy, as you see."
When the little boy heard this he looked very serious, and said: "I
have been very naughty, but I will do so no more," and he went into
the house, and never teased Charles or Giles again.
A few months after this, when Charles and Giles were working as usual
in the garden, they saw a gentleman come down one of the walks,
leading by the hand a little girl dressed in a black silk frock and
bonnet trimmed with crape.
"Ah, Giles," said Charles, "how like that young lady is to my sister
Clara. I wonder whether I shall ever see my dear sister Clara again."
"Brother Charles, dear brother Charles, you have not then quite
forgotten your sister Clara," said the little girl, throwing her arms
round his neck as she spoke.
When Charles saw that it was, indeed, his own dear sister Clara, he
kissed her and cried with joy.
Then he told Clara all that had happened to him since the day they had
parted, and how sorry he had been for all his past conduct, and he
asked her who the gentleman was that had brought her into the garden.
"It is our uncle, dear Charles. You know our dear mother had a brother
who lived in India that she used frequently to talk about. Well, when
he came home, and heard that mother was dead, and we were in distress,
he came to nurse's cottage, and took me home to his house, and has
now come to find you, for he is very good and kind, and loves us both
for our dear mother's sake."
"And will he take me home too?" said Charles.
"Yes, my boy," said Charles's uncle, taking him by the hand, "because
you are good and kind, and are no longer cross and proud, as I heard
you used to be. You shall come home with me this very day, if you
please, and I will teach you everything that a young gentleman should
know, and you and Clara shall be my children so long as you continue
to be deserving of my love, and are not unkind, nor despise those who
are beneath you in situation."
"Indeed, uncle," said Charles, "I can now feel for the poor, and I
would rather remain as I am than be rich if I thought I should ever
behave as I used to do."
"My dear child," said his uncle, kissing him with great affection,
"continue to think so, and you will never act amiss. The first and
greatest step toward amendment is acknowledging our faults. What is
passed shall be remembered no more, and I doubt not but that we shall
all be happy for the time to come."
"But uncle," said Charles, laying his hand on his uncle's arm, "I have
something to ask of you."
"Well, Charles, and what would you have of me?" said his uncle.
Then Charles led Giles to his uncle, and related all he had done for
him; how he had taken him to his own home, and given him half of his
food and his bed, and taught him to read and to work; he, likewise,
told his uncle how ill he had behaved to Giles in depriving him of his
pretty Snowball, and he said: "Dear uncle, will you allow Giles to
share my good fortune, for I cannot be happy while he is in want, and
he is better than me, for he returned good for evil."
Then his uncle said: "Charles, I should not have loved you had you
forgotten your kind friend." And he asked Giles if he would like to go
to his house and live with him, and spend his time in learning to read
and write, and in improving his mind, instead of hard labor.
"I should like it very much indeed, sir," said Giles, "but I cannot
accept your kind offer."
"And why not, my good little friend?"
"Because, sir," said Giles, bursting into tears, "my poor mother and
sisters must go to the workhouse or starve if I did not stay and work
for them, and I could not be happy if I lived in a fine house, and
knew they were in want of a bit of bread to eat."
"Then," said the gentleman smiling, "for your sake they shall never
want anything, for I will put them into a cottage of my own, and will
take care of them, and you shall live with me, and I will love you as
if you were my own child, and remember, Giles, I do this as a reward
for your kindness to Charles when he was unhappy and in great
distress."
Charles's uncle was as good as his word, and Giles received the
blessings of a good education, while his mother and sisters were
maintained by the benevolence of his benefactor.
Charles was so careful not to relapse into his former errors that he
became as remarkable for his gentleness and the goodness of his heart
as he had formerly been for his pride and unkindness, and in the
diligent performance of his duty, both to God and man, he proved to
his uncle the sincerity of his amendment.
TRIAL
_Of a Complaint made against Sundry Persons for Breaking in the
Windows of Dorothy Careful, Widow and Dealer in Gingerbread_
By JOHN AIKIN AND MRS. BARBAULD
The court being sat, there appeared in person the widow Dorothy
Careful to make a complaint against Henry Luckless, and other person
or persons unknown, for breaking three panes of glass, value
ninepence, in the house of the said widow. Being directed to tell her
case to the court, she made a curtsey and began as follows:
"Please, your lordship, I was sitting at work by my fireside between
the hours of six and seven in the evening, just as it was growing
dusk, and little Jack was spinning beside me, when all at once crack
went the window, and down fell a little basket of cakes that was set
up against it. I started up and cried to Jack: 'Bless me, what's the
matter?' 'So,' says Jack, 'sombody has thrown a stone and broke the
window, and I dare say it is some of the schoolboys.' With that I ran
out of the house, and saw some boys making off as fast as they could
go. So I ran after them as quick as my old legs would carry me, but I
should never have come near them if one had not happened to fall down.
Him I caught and brought back to my house, when Jack knew him at once
to be Master Henry Luckless. So I told him I would complain of him the
next day, and I hope your worship will make him pay the damage, and I
think he deserves a good whipping into the bargain for injuring a poor
widow woman."
The Judge, having heard Mrs. Careful's story, desired her to sit down,
and then calling up Master Luckless, asked him what he had to say for
himself. Luckless appeared with his face a good deal scratched, and
looking very ruefully. After making his bow and sobbing two or three
times, he said: