Produced by Roger Frank, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: Jessie Talking to Rover.--Front]
GLEN MORRIS STORIES.
JESSIE CARLTON;
The Story of a Girl who fought with little Impulse, the Wizard,
AND CONQUERED HIM.
BY
FRANCIS FORRESTER, ESQ.,
Author Of "Guy Carlton," "Dick Duncan,"
"My Uncle Toby's Library," Etc.
BOSTON:
BROWN & TAGGARD.
NEW YORK: HOWE & FERRY.
1861.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860,
By HOWE & FERRY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
RENNIE, SHEA & LINDSAY,
Stereotypers and Electrotypers,
81, 83 & 85 Centre-street,
New York.
R. CRAIGHEAD,
Printer,
81, 83 & 85 Centre-st.
NOTE
TO PARENTS, GUARDIANS, AND TEACHERS.
The purpose of the "Glen Morris Stories" is to sow the seed of pure,
noble, manly character in the mind of our great nation's childhood. They
exhibit the virtues and vices of childhood, not in prosy, unreadable
precepts, but in a series of characters which move before the imagination
as living beings do before the senses. Thus access to the heart is won by
way of the imagination. While the story charms, the truth sows itself in
the conscience and in the affections. The child is thereby led to abhor
the false and the vile, and to sympathize with the right, the beautiful,
and the true. To every parent, teacher, and guardian, who has affinity
with these high purposes, the "Glen Morris Stories" are most respectfully
inscribed by their fellow-laborer in the field of childhood.
Francis Forrester.
ORDER OF THE GLEN MORRIS STORIES.
I. Guy Carlton, the Story of a Boy who belonged to the "Try Company."
II. Dick Duncan, the Story of a Boy who loved Mischief.
III. Jessie Carlton, the Story of a Girl who fought with little
Impulse, the Wizard, and conquered him.
IV. Walter Sherwood, the Story of an easy, good-natured Boy.
V. Kate Carlton, the Story of a vain Girl.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Jessie And Impulse The Wizard. 11
II. Jessie's Two Cousins. 27
III. A Nutting-Party. 43
IV. Jessie's Great Sorrow. 59
V. The Broken Mirror. 76
VI. The First Slide of the Season. 92
VII. Jessie's First Great Victory. 108
VIII. Farewell to the Cousins. 122
IX. The Wizard in the Field Again. 136
X. Madge Clifton. 151
XI. Madge Clifton's Mother. 166
XII. Little Impulse beaten again. 180
XIII. The Skating-Party. 194
XIV. The Watch-Pocket finished. 209
XV. Thanksgiving Day. 222
ENGRAVINGS.
PAGE
Jessie and Emily Sailing Boats in the Quarry. 50
Jessie and Carrie Enjoying a Slide. 102
Mrs. Moneypenny Reading Jack's Letter. 148
Walter Sliding With Carrie and Jessie. 220
PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY.
Jessie Carlton, only daughter of a New York merchant residing at Glen
Morris Cottage, Duncanville, a village near New York.
Emily and Charlie Morris, Jessie's two cousins, visiting at Glen Morris
Cottage.
Madge Clifton, Jessie's _protege_.
Carrie Sherwood, one of Jessie's companions.
Mrs. Moneypenny, a poor widow, and her son Jack.
JESSIE CARLTON
CHAPTER I
Jessie and the Wizard.
On a bright afternoon of a warm day in October, Jessie Carlton sat in the
parlor of Glen Morris Cottage. Her elbows rested on the table, her face
was held between her two plump little hands, and her eyes were feasting on
some charming pictures which were spread out before her. A pretty little
work-basket stood on a chair at her side. It contained several yards of
rumpled patchwork, two pieces of broadcloth with figures partially worked
on them as if they were intended for a pair of slippers, a watch-pocket
half finished, and a small piece of silk composed of very little squares.
On the table close to her left elbow was a cambric handkerchief with some
embroidery just begun in one of its corners. A needle carelessly stuck
into it showed that Jessie had been working on it when her eyes were
attracted by the pictures she was now studying with such close attention.
After a few minutes the little girl moved her right arm for the purpose of
looking at another picture, when her thimble dropped from her finger to
the table with a loud ringing sound. She started to pick it up, and in so
doing pushed her scissors to the floor. The noise they made in falling led
Jessie to glance towards the sofa, and to say in a very soft whisper--
"Oh dear! I'm afraid those naughty scissors have waked Uncle Morris out of
his nap!"
Jessie was right. The noise had started Uncle Morris from a cozy little
nap into which he had fallen after dinner. It was not often that the
active old gentleman indulged himself in this way; but a long walk in the
morning had made him weary, and he had quietly roamed into dreamland as he
sat reading. He now opened his eyes, looked round the room, and seeing his
niece looking askance at him, said--
"What's the matter, Jessie? I heard something fall with a great crash,
what was it?"
Jessie laughed outright. It was not very polite, but she could not very
well keep the fun out of her face. It seemed so queer that her uncle
should call the noise made by the fall of a pair of scissors _a great
crash_. At last she said--
"There was no great crash, Uncle. Only my scissors fell from the table."
"Was that all? Why it sounded to me just like the crash of a tray full of
crockery ware. That was because I was half asleep, I suppose. Well, never
mind, I'm not the first old gentleman who has magnified a little noise
into a great one in his sleep--but what are you so busy about this
afternoon, little puss!"
As Uncle Morris put this question he arose, walked up to the table and
began to look at Jessie's work, for by this time she had begun stitching
on the cambric handkerchief again. Blushing deeply, she said--
"I am embroidering a pocket-handkerchief, Uncle."
"Indeed! how fond you little ladies are of finery!" said Uncle Morris,
smiling and patting Jessie's head.
"I'm not doing it for myself, Uncle," replied the child.
"Not for yourself, eh? Is it for papa, then?"
"No, Sir."
"For your brother Guy, perhaps?"
"No, Sir. Not for Guy," and looking slyly at her uncle, she added. "I
guess that you are not Yankee enough to guess whom it is for."
"For your brother Hugh, maybe?"
"You must guess again, Uncle."
"Well, maybe it is for your hero, Richard Duncan."
"O Uncle! Do you think I would embroider a handkerchief for a young
gentleman!" and Jessie pursed up her lips as though she was going to be
very angry.
"Don't be angry with your old uncle, my little puss," said Mr. Morris with
an air of mock penitence, "I had an idea that young ladies did such things
for young gentlemen sometimes. But who is it for? I give it up."
"You give it up! Why, I thought you belonged to the 'never give up
company.' Oh, fy! Uncle Morris, I'll get you turned out of the try company
if you don't mind. So you had better guess again," and Jessie held up her
fat finger and looked so funnily at Mr. Morris that the old gentleman's
heart warmed towards her, and giving her a kiss of fond affection, he
said--
"Then I guess it is for your poor old uncle."
"Beans are hot!" cried Jessie, clapping her hands. "You've guessed it at
last. But see my work, Uncle! Isn't it beautiful?"
"Very pretty, indeed, my dear," replied the old man, who now put on a
comical look, and added, "but I'm afraid I shall not live until it is
finished."
"Not live----!" Jessie was going to be alarmed, but her uncle's laughing
eyes checked her alarm, and catching his meaning from his expression, she
pouted and was silent.
"Don't put on that frightful pout, my little puss, for, really, I should
have to live as long a life as an ancient patriarch if I do not die before
you are likely to _finish_ the handkerchief. There are the quilt, the
slippers, the watch-pocket, the chair-cushion, and the handkerchief all
_begun_ for me, but nothing finished. That little wizard--his name is
Impulse, you know--which led you to drop the quilt that you might begin
the slippers, and the slippers that you might begin the chair-cushion,
will soon tempt you to drop the handkerchief for something else. I wish I
could catch the jolly little imp. I'd cane him smartly, and then I would
lead him to Parson Resolution's church, and marry him to that sweet little
fairy, Miss Perseverance, who is breaking her heart for the love of him.
Were he once thus married, I think his bride would teach him to help you
finish all the little gifts you have begun for me, and there would be some
hope that I should live long enough to sleep under your quilt, sit on your
cushion, walk in your slippers, put my watch in your pocket at night, and
blow my venerable nose in your embroidered pocket-handkerchief."
The reproof so pleasantly given in these quaint words found its way to
Jessie's heart. Her face became sober, she bit her lips, a stray tear or
two hung, like dew-drops in the web of a gossamer, on her long eyelashes,
she sighed and after a few moments of silent thought rose, planted her
right foot firmly on the floor, and said--
"Uncle Morris, I _will_ conquer that little wizard! I will _finish_ your
quilt right away, and then all the other things in their turn--see if I
don't."
Jessie had made just such a promise at least _ten_ times, since Glen
Morris Cottage had become her home. She had tried to keep it too, but,
somehow, _her habit of yielding to every new impulse which came over her_,
had hitherto led her to break it as often as it had been made. The little
wizard, as Uncle Morris facetiously called her changeful impulses, was her
tyrant. The jolly little rogue did, indeed, sadly stand in need of
matrimony with the forlorn Miss Perseverance. For poor Jessie's sake,
Uncle Morris was very anxious to see the wedding come off speedily.
Whether his wish was met or not, will appear hereafter.
To prove her sincerity Jessie put the cambric handkerchief in the bottom
of her work-basket. The other articles she placed, in the order in which
she had begun them, above it, and then sat resolutely down to her
patchwork quilt. As her bright little needle began to fly with the
swiftness of a weaver's shuttle, she said to herself--
"Now I _will_ finish Uncle Morris's quilt right off."
Uncle Morris had left the parlor, and Jessie had sewed steadily for at
least fifteen minutes, when her brother Hugh bounded into the room,
holding two letters in his hand, and said--
"Letters for Jessie Carlton and her mother. Postage one dollar, to be paid
to the bearer on delivery. Give me your half-dollar, Miss Carlton, and I
will give you your letter!"
"A letter for me!" cried Jessie, dropping her work and running to her
brother, capsizing her work-basket as she ran. "Give it to me! Give it to
me."
"Pay me the postage first," said Hugh, holding the letter over her head.
"There is no postage, you know there isn't, you naughty Hugh! Give me my
letter," and Jessie pulled Hugh's arm in the vain attempt to bring the
letter within her reach.
"No postage, indeed! Do you think Uncle Sam can afford to carry letters
for all the Yankee girls who may choose to write to each other, without
pay? Not he. Uncle Sam knows how to care for number one too well for that.
So hand over your half-dollar, Miss Jessie, and I will give you your
letter."
Jessie coaxed and scolded at her brother for nearly ten minutes, in vain.
Hugh loved to tease her, and so he kept on, now offering the letter, and
then holding it beyond her reach, until the poor child's patience being
all gone, she sat down and cried with vexation. This was certainly
carrying his fun too far. A little pleasant bantering at first, though not
_amiable_, might have been pardonable; but now that her feelings were hurt
he was very unkind to carry his nonsense any further. But this was one of
Hugh's faults. He was a great tease. Seeing his sister in tears, he said,
in a whining tone--
"Pretty little cry-baby! How beautiful you are, all melted into tears!"
Then dropping the whine from his tone, he added, "Here, Jessie, take your
letter!"
Jessie stretched out her arm to take the offered letter. Hugh drew it back
again and said--
"Bah! Don't you wish you may get it!"
"You unamiable boy! is that the affection which is due from a brother to
his sister? O Hugh! Hugh! I wish you had more love and less selfishness in
that idle soul of yours."
This just rebuke from the lips of Uncle Morris, who had been standing
unperceived for the last few minutes behind the half-open door, put an end
to all Master Hugh's idle, not to say wicked, teasing. He dropped the
letters into Jessie's lap, and with an angry scowl on his face left the
room.
The sunshine came back into Jessie's face in a moment. She looked her
thanks to Uncle Morris, while she nervously opened the envelope of her
letter. Having unfolded it, she read as follows:
Morristown, New Jersey, October 10th, 18--
Dear Cousin Jessie,
Pa and Ma have just given their consent to have me and my brother
Charlie visit you at Glen Morris Cottage. I am so glad I can hardly
hold my pen to write you about it. Charlie is jumping about the room,
and shouting hurrah, for joy. We are to start Thursday, in the
afternoon train, and shall get to your house to tea. With ten
thousand kisses for you, I remain,
Your affectionate cousin,
Emily Morris.
Miss Jessie Carlton.
"Oh, won't it be nice, Uncle Morris!" cried Jessie, after reading this
note. "What good times I shall have with my cousins! I'm so glad I don't
know what to do with myself."
"You are a happy little puss generally, and I am glad to see you made
happier than usual by this pleasant letter from your cousin. But are you
sure, my dear Jessie, that you will enjoy your cousins' visit?"
"Why, Uncle!" cried Jessie, with an air of surprise. "How can you ask me
such a question? I am sure I shall love my cousins very much, and we shall
enjoy ourselves very finely together."
"Well! Well! I hope it may be so," said Uncle Morris, with a sigh which
made Jessie think that the good old man's hope was not a very strong one.
She said nothing, however, and Uncle Morris asked--
"When are your cousins coming?"
Jessie looked at her letter and read, "'We are to start
Thursday,'"--pausing, and looking up, she exclaimed--
"Why, that's this very day! I declare they will be here this afternoon.
Won't it be nice!"
"Yes, to-day _is_ Thursday. Your letter has been delayed. Perhaps you had
better take your mamma's letter to her room. She may require time to make
preparations for her young guests. They will be here--let me see (looking
at his watch), in two hours. Run Jessie and tell your mother!"
Jessie hurried to her mother's apartment with the unopened letter and the
news. Mrs. Carlton's letter was from Emily's mother and contained the same
information.
Jessie was in ecstasies during the next two hours. To be sure, there was
that question and that sigh of Uncle Morris to cast a slight shadow on her
joy. But shadows never tarried long on Jessie's spirit, which was so
bright and joyous that it seemed as if it was made of sunshine. Happy
little Jessie Carlton!
Emily's letter had put all thought of her work out of Jessie's head. Her
patchwork lay on the floor beside the overturned work-basket, until her
mother going to prepare the parlor for company, picked both up and put
them away. In fact, Jessie's little wizard had her in his chains again.
She was once more the simple-hearted child of impulse.
Having fixed her hair and changed her dress, Jessie ran out on to the
piazza to watch for the coming of her cousins. First she seated herself on
the settee, which stood there, and made the air ring again with her joyous
song. After a few minutes, she sprang from her seat and seizing old Rover
by the head, began to tell him that her cousins were coming, and,
therefore, he must be the very best behaved dog in the world.[A] Then
seating herself lightly on old Rover's back, she patted his neck, and
said--
"Noble old Rover, won't you give your mistress a ride?"
Rover was a grand old dog, large and strong enough to carry a much heavier
miss than Jessie. He was good-natured too. Still he had no notion of being
used for a pony. So, after standing quite still for a moment or two, he
suddenly started and sent Jessie sprawling on the piazza, while he trotted
down the steps and made a bed for himself in the greensward, on the lawn,
as quietly as if nothing had happened. A knowing old dog was Rover.
Jessie picked herself up and began singing again. Scarcely had she trilled
out two lines before she saw Guy coming towards the house. With the light
spring of a fairy she bounded across the lawn, and meeting him at the gate
exclaimed--
"O Guy, cousin Emily and cousin Charlie are coming here to-night. Aren't
you glad?"
"To be sure I am. I'm glad of any thing that pleases my sister."
Jessie kissed him, and taking his hand, walked with him back to the
piazza, where she resumed her watching, beguiling the time by humming her
songs and by an occasional frolic with old Rover.
At last, the sound of wheels told her that the carriage was coming up from
the railroad station. A few minutes later it rolled along the road which
ran through the lawn and in front of the piazza. Four bright eyes peeped
over the door, which the coachman speedily opened. Mr. Carlton stepped out
first and then came Emily and Charlie. Never did cousins meet with warmer
greetings than they received from Jessie and Guy, and Mrs. Carlton, and
Uncle Morris. Never was little girl happier than Jessie, when, a few
minutes later, she had Emily all to herself, in her own sweet little
chamber, showing her the contents of drawer and trunk and doll-house, and
whatever else might be included in the term "playthings." When Emily and
Charlie went to bed that night, they were in ecstasies over the pleasant
things they had seen and felt on the first evening of their visit to Glen
Morris Cottage.
-----
[A] See Frontispiece.