THE FALSE BEGGAR.
"My dear madam," cried Blanche, one day, "do listen to a poor woman
in the hall, who is telling such a mournful story!"--"And she begs
you to read this paper," added Kate, running in with a dirty crumpled
letter in her hand. The kind lady read the paper, and heard the woman's
story: then said, "Poor creature! your state seems very wretched, I
will inquire about you, and come and see you, and try to serve you."
The stranger begged hard for present relief, but the lady said she made
a rule never to give aid until she knew the facts of the case. It was
some time before the woman would give an address; at last she did so,
and went away.
"Dear Aunt, why did not you give the poor thing some money?"--"Because
I was not sure money was the best thing I could give her; by seeing
her, I shall best know how to serve her."--"But just one shilling?"--"I
can afford to give that, I own, and it would have saved me trouble; but
it is my duty to do the most good in my power, and that can only be
done by going to the scene of woe."
In the course of the day, (for we ought not to defer a duty) the three
went to inquire about the poor woman; she had called herself a widow,
with five children starving in an old barn; no such place was to be
found. By accident, she was seen standing at the door of the inn; and
though she tried to hide herself, the Aunt found her out; what was
the surprise of the girls to see the feigned beggar in good clothes,
in a good room, and with a table on which were tea things, a loaf,
and butter, and white sugar. The Aunt waited to hear the meaning of
all this, and the woman began a speech; but as it was plain she did
not speak the truth, the Aunt shook her head, told her to give up her
wicked course, and left her.
"My dear girls," said the good Aunt, "this woman's cunning is a proof
that all who beg do not deserve, or require relief. But as there is
much real distress in the world, those who truly desire to relieve it
must not fail to visit the scenes of sorrow named to them, that so they
may serve the unfortunate and detect the guilty."
THE TRUE BEGGAR.
"Another tale of woe, Aunt,"--cried Kate, a few weeks after the visit
to the false beggar. "But I suppose, this also is not true, and
therefore you will not give any help."--"My dear Kate, all persons
claim our belief till we have proved their falsehood. This may be true,
though the other was false; never let us decide till we have found out
the real truth, which can only be done by going to the spot."
The woman named the cot in which she lived; it was far distant, but
nothing can be done without trouble, and our three friends set out for
the distant dwelling. The day was stormy and the road dirty; but, in
the work of pity, who would be stopped by such evils! Besides, the
badness of the weather was the very reason why want and sickness most
needed succour.
It was after much trouble and many mistakes, that the cottage was
found, and Blanche was fearing this also was a fraud; but when they
did enter the hovel, how glad were they that they had not given up the
search: it was all true. The sick husband was trying to warm himself by
a small fire; two little children, with no clothing but a ragged shirt
each, were on the floor, thin and pale from hunger; the woman had a
baby in her arms, crying for food.--Blanche and Kate shed some tears,
for their hearts were full; but, drying them quickly, they thought it
was better to act than to weep. The kind Aunt calmly thought over all
that was best to be done, and then set about it. She got food for the
children and their mother, and wine and physic for the poor father.
Then they all went to work, and made clothes for the naked little ones.
It was more than a week before all they wished could be done; but it
was done. Those who were ready to perish were fed, and cured, and
clothed.
"Now you see, my dears, how right it is to visit the cases of distress,
of which you hear; _some are true_. By seeing them with our own eyes,
we know what is most wanted. It is seldom wise to give money to the
poor; they don't know how to make the best of it; and by not giving to
all, we have more to give to a few."
HOW TO DO THE MOST GOOD.
"You see, Kate, to do real good, one must not mind some trouble;
for, you know, my love, it is our duty to detect and prevent error,
as much as it is our duty to cherish virtue."--"But, Aunt, when one
inquires too closely, one finds out sad faults."--"Right, my dear,
and we do good even by that discovery. For, perhaps, we stop the
guilty from going on in their course of crime; and that is no small
service."--"True, Aunt, and besides that, we save the money of the kind
for the good and honest, by keeping it from the bad and artful."
"Of two cases of distress named to us, you know, one was false and the
other was true. This should teach us never to relieve want till we are
sure of its being true; this should teach us never to pass by a demand
without notice; for fear we should thereby doom a fellow-creature to
want and sickness, and, it may be, death."
"You have cured the poor man, my dear Aunt, and fed his wife, and
clothed his children; but they will soon be in distress again, and
you said you could not afford to keep them."--"I cannot afford it,
indeed, my child; and I ought not to do it, if I could; for these
people can now earn their living, and must not live upon my small poor
purse."--"No, because that would prevent your helping any other poor
person."--"Right, Kate; so I have been thinking to ask Lord Glenmore
to let the man have work in his grounds."--"But you won't like to go
and ask such a favour of Lord Glenmore."--"I am not fond of asking
favours; but this is more for the poor man than for myself; and shall
I not be doing his Lordship a favour, in shewing him how he can do a
good act?"--"To be sure you will, and he has a kind heart, and loves to
do good. Pray let us go, Aunt; I am sorry Blanche is ill and cannot go
with us."--"You and I have been chatting and standing here, Kate, and
have almost passed the hour, when our dear sick girl should take her
physic. Ruth is with her; go to her, and I will fetch the phial and the
cup, and follow you to her chamber." Kate ran off to the room of her
sick friend.
BLANCHE LEARNS WISDOM.
"Oh! really I cannot, cannot take this horrid physic, dearest Madam!"
cried Blanche, as soon as she saw her kind friend appear with phial and
cup. "Fie, Miss!" said Ruth, and she leant on the back of the young
lady's chair, and, in a whisper, besought her to behave with more sense
and spirit. Kate kindly took her crying friend's hand, and spoke to
her with so much mildness and reason: "My best Blanche, you are very
ill, you know you are, and you cannot be better till you have taken
something to relieve your fever."--"Oh, but that is such nasty vile
stuff!"--"Do not call what will ease your pain by such harsh names: are
you not in great pain?"--"Yes, yes, my head aches, and I feel sick,
and so ill, so very ill."--"And do you really prefer bearing all this,
to a minute's bitter taste of physic in your mouth? Why, Blanche, are
you so very foolish?" and Kate smiled as she spoke, and held the cup to
her friend. Blanche dashed away the cup, and all the physic was spilt.
"What have you done, wayward girl?" cried the Aunt; "this was the only
dose proper for you in the house,--and we live so far from the town.
Ah! when and where shall I get you some more?" At first, Blanche was
glad that the physic was spilt; but when she found herself getting
worse, she began to wish she could find some cure for her ailments. The
kind Aunt sent all round the village, no one could give her the physic
she wanted. It was dark, Ruth could not go alone to the town. The poor
man, that had been helped and cured, heard Ruth as she passed through
the village speak of her young lady's illness, and he begged to go to
the town for the physic. He walked as fast as he could, and came back
with the dose the very moment he got it. But how did poor Blanche long
for his return! Every minute seemed an hour to her; how gladly she
took the mixture which before she had scorned. In a very short time,
it soothed and eased her; she fell asleep, and awoke almost well:
her first words were: "I hope I never again shall be so very, very
childish."
BE KIND TO SERVANTS.
The next morning, when the Aunt went into the room, she found Ruth
helping the girls to get up, and both of them in high health and
spirits. But, as she came in, she thought she heard some harsh words
from Kate and Blanche to the maid; and she asked what was the matter?
It seems that Ruth had not mended a gown for Blanche, as she had been
bid to do, and as she had given her word she would do. Ruth said she
was sorry, "but I forgot it, miss." She was about to receive a smart
answer, when her mistress mildly bade her put down the gown and go
away: as soon as she was gone, "How is this, girls?" said the good
Aunt; "so cross to Ruth, who but last night was so good to you?"
Blanche blushed, and turned away her head. Kate said, "Ruth always
forgets all that is told her."--"That is more her misfortune than her
fault. Pray, do you never forget, Kate, that you are so harsh to one
who does?" It was now Kate's turn to blush, for she was apt to forget.
"But, why was Ruth to mend this frock; surely, Blanche, you are old
enough to do it yourself?"--"Yes, ma'am, but it is work I don't like; I
don't like darning and mending."--"I dare say, Ruth dislikes it also;
servants have their feelings as well as we." Kate and Blanche began to
see how selfish and unjust they had been; and their Aunt went on to
say--"Pray, who tore this frock?"--"I did, ma'am, two days ago, when I
was at play in the garden."--"Indeed! And so what you tore in the midst
of your pleasure, Ruth is to sit down and mend, though ever so much
against her convenience! Really, this is a new mode of acting fairly
and justly!"
The girls were quite hurt at themselves, and began to declare how fond
they were of Ruth, and how civil and kind she always was to them. "I
quite agree with you, that she deserves your favour; but do not let
caprice make you sometimes behave well to her and sometimes ill; a
steady system of kindness does more to gain friends than all the ardour
and warmth in the world. Nothing is so bad in our intercourse with our
fellow-creatures,--nothing so bad as caprice!"
THE VILLAGE SHOP.
Now Blanche was well again; they all walked to Lord Glenmore's, and
he kindly gave his promise to employ the poor man in his gardens, or
grounds. As they came back, they called in at the village shop, to buy
some things for the poor man. The old woman, who kept the shop, came
to serve them, and she was wiping her eyes, and could scarcely speak
for crying. "What is the matter, dame Hodge?" said the good Aunt, and
went up kindly to the poor woman, whilst the two girls staid behind the
counter. The old dame sighed, and said her daughter had just left her
service, and she was afraid it would be long before she got so good
a place again. The Lady said she would inquire among her friends for
a place for Belle; and then they proceeded in their walk. The girls
talked of the difference between all they saw at Castle Glenmore, and
what they saw at the shop. "Yes," said the Aunt, "and you may also
observe how little alike is the life of a rich lord and our poor dame.
He and his lady have no care, but to please and amuse themselves just
as the humour takes them, from morning till night; whilst dame Hodge
has, even in old age, to work for her food, and to cook it before she
eats it. She must make her bed before she can sleep in it; in short,
she must labour before she can possess any one thing. Then again,
humble as is her lot, there are others who have a still more lowly
fate; for instance, the poor man we have just helped to save from
want. How much worse off is he, than our weeping old woman!"--"Aunt,"
said Kate, "I had been thinking with envy of Miss Glenmore; her toys,
her books, her fine dress;--but I shall do so no more; for, oh! how
well am I off, when I compare my lot to the poor children we have
been clothing."--"You are right, Kate; be grateful for your lot, and
reflect, that all have their share of good; what we do not prize is
perhaps a joy and a pleasure to those who are below us in life; your
old bonnet, you know, was a treasure to the poor man's child."
THE FARM-YARD.
When Kate's Aunt made a promise, she always took care to perform it;
and now for many days she looked about to find a place for Belle.
At last, she went to a farmer's, where she and the girls were much
pleased to see the farmer's wife feeding the pigs. They looked over
the rails, and saw the fat grunters feeding away, all in a row, whilst
milk and barley were poured into their wooden trough. A farm-yard had
many charms for Kate and Blanche:--the cows, lowing amid the clean
deep straw, and the young calves standing at their sides;--the sheep
feeding on the short sweet grass of the home field, and the pretty
lambs skipping and jumping about;--the great mastiff, chained to
his house, growling at each stranger;--the threshers, in the barn,
threshing out the corn;--the thatcher on the cottage roof mending the
thatch: then the pretty garden, full of peas and beans, and leeks,
and carrots; with one corner, gay with flowers, such as stocks, and
pinks, and roses:--all seemed so pleasant and pretty about the farm,
that they were quite glad to hear the farmer's wife say, she wanted
a maid, and would be glad to try Belle. "How happy Belle will be in
this charming place!"--"That must depend upon herself," said the Aunt.
"My dear girls, it does not matter how many blessings fall to our
lot, if we do not make the best of them. I agree with you, that Belle
has a fair chance of comfort here; she will have much to do, and much
to enjoy."--"That you often tell us is the best chance to be happy,"
said Blanche, "to have much to do, and much to enjoy."--"I can enjoy
nothing when I am idle," cried Kate. "Because you have been taught
to be busy, Kate," said her Aunt; "and it is perhaps happy for you,
that you are forced to employ yourself; your state in life demands it.
Those, whose fate does not oblige them to work, are often wretched,
because they are idle; this is one of the evils of wealth; so, you
see, all states have their evil and their good. Let us be thankful for
our share of good; let us be willing to make others the sharers of our
blessing. 'To enjoy is to obey.'"