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HOLIDAY HOUSE:
A SERIES OF TALES.
Dedicated to Lady Diana Boyle.
BY CATHERINE SINCLAIR,
AUTHORESS OF "MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS," "MODERN SOCIETY,"
"HILL AND VALLEY," "CHARLIE SEYMOUR," &c. &c.
"Young heads are giddy, and young hearts are warm,
And make mistakes for manhood to reform."
Cowper.
NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY ROBERT CARTER,
NO. 58 CANAL STREET.
1839.
New-York:
Printed by Scatcherd and Adams,
No. 38 Gold Street.
PREFACE
"Of all the paper I have blotted, I have written nothing without the
intention of some good. Whether I have succeeded or not, is for
others to judge."
Sir William Temple.
The minds of young people are now manufactured like webs of linen, all
alike, and nothing left to nature. From the hour when children can
speak, till they come to years of discretion or of indiscretion, they
are carefully prompted what to say, and what to think, and what to look,
and how to feel; while in most school-rooms nature has been turned out
of doors with obloquy, and art has entirely supplanted her.
When a quarrel takes place, both parties are generally in some degree to
blame; therefore if Art and Nature could yet be made to go hand in hand
towards the formation of character and principles, a graceful and
beautiful superstructure might be reared, on the solid foundation of
Christian faith and sound morality; so that while many natural weeds and
wild flowers would be pruned and carefully trained, some lovely blossoms
that spring spontaneously in the uncultivated soil, might still be
cherished into strength and beauty, far excelling what can be planted or
reared by art.
Every infant is probably born with a character as peculiar to himself as
the features in his countenance, if his faults and good qualities were
permitted to expand according to their original tendency; but education,
which formerly did too little in teaching "the young idea how to shoot,"
seems now in danger of over-shooting the mark altogether, by not
allowing the young ideas to exist at all. In this age of wonderful
mechanical inventions, the very mind of youth seems in danger of
becoming a machine; and while every effort is used to stuff the memory,
like a cricket-ball, with well-known facts and ready-made opinions, no
room is left for the vigour of natural feeling, the glow of natural
genius, and the ardour of natural enthusiasm. It was a remark of Sir
Walter Scott's many years ago, to the author herself, that in the rising
generation there would be no poets, wits, or orators, because all play
of imagination is now carefully discouraged, and books written for young
persons are generally a mere dry record of facts, unenlivened by any
appeal to the heart, or any excitement to the fancy. The catalogue of a
child's library would contain Conversations on Natural Philosophy,--on
Chemistry,--on Botany,--on Arts and Sciences,--Chronological Records of
History,--and travels as dry as a road-book; but nothing on the habits
or ways of thinking, natural and suitable to the taste of children;
therefore, while such works are delightful to the parents and teachers
who select them, the younger community are fed with strong meat instead
of milk, and the reading which might be a relaxation from study, becomes
a study in itself.
In these pages the author has endeavoured to paint that species of
noisy, frolicsome, mischievous children which is now almost extinct,
wishing to preserve a sort of fabulous remembrance of days long past,
when young people were like wild horses on the prairies, rather than
like well-broken hacks on the road; and when, amidst many faults and
many eccentricities, there was still some individuality of character and
feeling allowed to remain. In short, as Lord Byron described "the last
man," the object of this volume is, to describe "the last boy." It may
be useful, she thinks, to show, that amidst much requiring to be
judiciously curbed and corrected, there may be the germs of high and
generous feeling, and of steady, right principle, which should be the
chief objects of culture and encouragement. Plodding industry is in the
present day at a very high premium in education; but it requires the
leaven of mental energy and genius to make it work well, while it has
been remarked by one whose experience in education is deep and
practical, that "those boys whose names appear most frequently in the
black book of transgression, would sometimes deserve to be also most
commonly recorded, if a book were kept for warm affections and generous
actions."
The most formidable person to meet in society at present, is the mother
of a promising boy, about nine or ten years old; because there is no
possible escape from a volume of anecdotes, and a complete system of
education on the newest principles. The young gentleman has probably
asked leave to bring his books to the breakfast-room,--can scarcely be
torn away from his studies at the dinner-hour,--discards all
toys,--abhors a holiday,--propounds questions of marvellous depth in
politics or mineralogy,--and seems, in short, more fitted to enjoy the
learned meeting at Newcastle, than the exhilarating exercises of the
cricket-ground; but, if the axiom be true, that "a little learning is a
dangerous thing," it has also been proved by frequent, and sometimes by
very melancholy experience, that, for minds not yet expanded to
maturity, a great deal of learning is more dangerous still, and that in
those school-rooms where there has been a society for the suppression of
amusement, the mental energies have suffered, as well as the health.
A prejudice has naturally arisen against giving works of fiction to
children, because their chief interest too often rests on the detection
and punishment of such mean vices as lying and stealing, which are so
frequently and elaborately described, that the way to commit those
crimes is made obvious, while a clever boy thinks he could easily avoid
the oversights by which another has been discovered, and that if he does
not yield to similar temptations, he is a model of virtue and
good-conduct.
In writing for any class of readers, and especially in occupying the
leisure moments of such peculiarly fortunate young persons as have
leisure moments at all, the author feels conscious of a deep
responsibility, for it is at their early age that the seed can best be
sown which shall bear fruit unto eternal life, therefore it is hoped
this volume may be found to inculcate a pleasing and permanent
consciousness, that religion is the best resource in happier hours, and
the only refuge in hours of affliction.
Those who wish to be remembered for ever in the world,--and it is a very
common object of ambition,--will find no monument more permanent, than
the affectionate remembrance of any children they have treated with
kindness; for we may often observe, in the reminiscences of old age, a
tender recollection surviving all others, of friends in early days who
enlivened the hours of childhood by presents of playthings and comfits.
But above all, we never forget those who good-humouredly complied with
the constantly recurring petition of all young people in every
generation, and in every house--"Will you tell me a story?"
In answer to such a request, often and importunately repeated, the
author has from year to year delighted in seeing herself surrounded by a
circle of joyous, eager faces, listening with awe to the terrors of Mrs.
Crabtree, or smiling at the frolics of Harry and Laura. The stories,
originally, were so short, that some friends, aware of their popularity,
and conscious of their harmless tendency, took the trouble of copying
them in manuscript for their own young friends; but the tales have since
grown and expanded during frequent verbal repetitions, till, with
various fanciful additions and new characters, they have enlarged into
their present form, or rather so far beyond it, that several chapters
are omitted, to keep the volume within moderate compass.
Paley remarks, that "any amusement which is innocent, is better than
none; as the writing of a book, the building of a house, the laying out
of a garden, the digging of a fish-pond, even the raising of a
cucumber;" and it is hoped that, while the author herself has found much
interesting occupation in recording these often repeated stories, the
time of herself and her young readers may be employed with some degree
of profit, or she will certainly regret that it was not better occupied
in the rearing of cucumbers.
HOLIDAY HOUSE.
CHAPTER I.
CHIT CHAT.
A school-boy, a dog, and a walnut tree,
The more you strike 'em, the better they be.
Laura and Harry Graham could scarcely feel sure that they ever had a
mama, because she died while they were yet very young indeed; but Frank,
who was some years older, recollected perfectly well what pretty
playthings she used to give him, and missed his kind, good mama so
extremely, that he one day asked if he might "go to a shop and buy a new
mama?" Frank often afterwards thought of the time also, when he kneeled
beside her bed to say his prayers, or when he sat upon her knee to hear
funny stories about good boys and bad boys--all very interesting, and
all told on purpose to show how much happier obedient children are, than
those who waste their time in idleness and folly. Boys and girls all
think they know the road to happiness without any mistake, and choose
that which looks gayest and pleasantest at first, though older people,
who have travelled that road already, can tell them that a very
difficult path is the only one which ends agreeably; and those who
begin to walk in it when they are young, will really find that "wisdom's
ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." It was
truly remarked by Solomon, that "even a child is known by his doings,
whether his work be pure, and whether it be right." Therefore, though
Frank was yet but a little boy, his friends, who observed how carefully
he attended to his mama's instructions, how frequently he studied his
Bible, and how diligently he learned his lessons, all prophesied that
this merry, lively child, with laughing eyes, and dimpled cheeks, would
yet grow up to be a good and useful man; especially when it became
evident that, by the blessing of God, he had been early turned away from
the broad road that leadeth to destruction, in which every living person
would naturally walk, and led into the narrow path that leadeth to
eternal life.
When his mama, Lady Graham, after a long and painful illness, was at
last taken away to the better world, for which she had been many years
preparing, her only sorrow and anxiety seemed to be that she left behind
her three such very dear children, who were now to be entirely under the
care of their papa, Sir Edward Graham; and it was with many prayers and
tears that she tried to make her mind more easy about their future
education, and future happiness.
Sir Edward felt such extreme grief on the death of Lady Graham, that
instead of being able to remain at home with his young family, and to
interest his mind as he would wish to have done, by attending to them,
he was ordered by Dr. Bell, to set off immediately for Paris, Rome, and
Naples, where it was hoped he might leave his distresses behind him
while he travelled, or at all events, forget them.
Luckily the children had a very good, kind uncle, Major David Graham,
and their grandmama, Lady Harriet Graham, who were both exceedingly
happy to take charge of them, observing that no house could be cheerful
without a few little people being there, and that now they would have
constant amusement in trying to make Frank, Harry, and Laura, as happy
as possible, and even still happier.
"That is the thing I am almost afraid of!" said Sir Edward, smiling.
"Uncles and grandmamas are only too kind, and my small family will be
quite spoiled by indulgence."
"Not if you leave that old vixen, Mrs. Crabtree, as governor of the
nursery," answered Major Graham, laughing. "She ought to have been the
drummer of a regiment, she is so fond of the rod! I believe there never
was such a tyrant since the time when nursery-maids were invented. Poor
Harry would pass his life in a dark closet, like Baron Trenck, if Mrs.
Crabtree had her own way!"
"She means it all well. I am certain that Mrs. Crabtree is devotedly
fond of my children, and would go through fire and water to serve them;
but she is a little severe perhaps. Her idea is, that if you never
forgive a first fault, you will never hear of a second, which is
probably true enough. At all events, her harshness will be the best
remedy for your extreme indulgence; therefore let me beg that you and my
mother will seldom interfere with her 'method,' especially in respect to
Harry and Laura. As for Frank, if all boys were like him, we might make
a bonfire of birch rods and canes. He is too old for nursery discipline
now, and must be flogged at school, if deserving of it at all, till he
goes to sea next year with my friend Gordon, who has promised to rate
him as a volunteer of the first class, on board the Thunderbolt."
In spite of Mrs. Crabtree's admirable "system" with children, Harry and
Laura became, from this time, two of the most heedless, frolicsome
beings in the world, and had to be whipped almost every morning; for in
those days it had not been discovered that whipping is all a mistake,
and that children can be made good without it; though some
old-fashioned people still say--and such, too, who take the God of truth
for their guide--the old plan succeeded best, and those who "spare the
rod will spoil the child." When Lady Harriet and Major Graham spoke
kindly to Harry and Laura, about anything wrong that had been done, they
both felt more sad and sorry, than after the severest punishments of
Mrs. Crabtree, who frequently observed, that "if those children were
shut up in a dark room alone, with nothing to do, they would still find
some way of being mischievous, and of deserving to be punished."
"Harry!" said Major Graham one day, "you remind me of a monkey which
belonged to the colonel of our regiment formerly. He was famous for
contriving to play all sorts of pranks when no one supposed them to be
possible, and I recollect once having a valuable French clock, which the
malicious creature seemed particularly determined to break. Many a time
I caught him in the fact, and saved my beautiful clock; but one day,
being suddenly summoned out of the room, I hastily fastened his chain to
a table, so that he could not possibly, even at the full extent of his
paw, so much as touch the glass case. I observed him impatiently
watching my departure, and felt a misgiving that he expected to get the
better of me; so after shutting the door, I took a peep through the
key-hole, and what do you think Jack had done, Harry? for, next to Mr.
Monkey himself, you are certainly the cleverest contriver of mischief I
know."
"What did he do?" asked Harry eagerly; "did he throw a stone at the
clock?"
"No! but his leg was several inches longer than his arm, so having
turned his tail towards his object, he stretched out his hind-paw, and
before I could rush back, my splendid alabaster clock had been upset and
broken to shivers."
Laura soon became quite as mischievous as Harry, which is very
surprising, as she was a whole year older, and had been twice as often
scolded by Mrs. Crabtree. Neither of these children intended any harm,
for they were only heedless lively romps, who would not for twenty
worlds have told a lie, or done a shabby thing, or taken what did not
belong to them. They were not greedy either, and would not on any
account have resembled Peter Grey, who was at the same school with
Frank, and who spent all his own pocket-money, and borrowed a great deal
of other people's, to squander at the pastry-cook's, saying, he wished
it were possible to eat three dinners, and two breakfasts, and five
suppers every day.
Harry was not a cruel boy either; he never lashed his pony, beat his
dog, pinched his sister, or killed any butterflies, though he often
chased them for fun, and one day he even defended a wasp, at the risk of
being stung, when Mrs. Crabtree intended to kill it.
"Nasty, useless vermin!" said she angrily, "What business have they in
the world! coming into other people's houses, with nothing to do! They
sting and torment every body! Bees are very different, for they make
honey."
"And wasps make jelly!" said Harry resolutely, while he opened the
window, and shook the happy wasp out of his pocket handkerchief.
Mrs. Crabtree allowed no pets of any description in her territories, and
ordered the children to be happy without any such nonsense. When Laura's
canary-bird escaped one unlucky day out of its cage, Mrs. Crabtree was
strongly suspected by Major Graham, of having secretly opened the door,
as she had long declared war upon bulfinches, white mice, parrots,
kittens, dogs, bantams, and gold fish, observing that animals only made
a noise and soiled the house, therefore every creature should remain in
its own home, "birds in the air, fish in the sea, and beasts in the
desert." She seemed always watching in hopes Harry and Laura might do
something that they ought to be punished for; and Mrs. Crabtree
certainly had more ears than other people, or slept with one eye open,
as, whatever might be done, night or day, she overheard the lowest
whisper of mischief, and appeared able to see what was going on in the
dark.
When Harry was a very little boy, he sometimes put himself in the
corner, after doing wrong, apparently quite sensible that he deserved to
be punished, and once, after being terribly scolded by Mrs. Crabtree, he
drew in his stool beside her chair, with a funny penitent face, twirling
his thumbs over and over each other, and saying, "Now, Mrs. Crabtree!
look what a good boy I am going to be!"
"You a good boy!" replied she contemptuously: "No! no! the world will be
turned into a cream-cheese first!"
Lady Harriet gave Harry and Laura a closet of their own, in which she
allowed them to keep their toys, and nobody could help laughing to see
that, amidst the whole collection, there was seldom one unbroken. Frank
wrote out a list once of what he found in this crowded little
store-room, and amused himself often with reading it over afterwards.
There were three dolls without faces, a horse with no legs, a drum with
a hole in the top, a cart without wheels, a churn with no bottom, a kite
without a tale, a skipping-rope with no handles, and a cup and ball that
had lost the string. Lady Harriet called this closet the hospital for
decayed toys, and she often employed herself as their doctor, mending
legs and arms for soldiers, horses, and dolls, though her skill seldom
succeeded long, because play-things must have been made of cast-iron to
last a week with Harry. One cold winter morning when Laura entered the
nursery, she found a large fire blazing, and all her wax dolls sitting
in a row within the fender staring at the flames. Harry intended no
mischief on this occasion, but great was his vexation when Laura burst
into tears, and showed him that their faces were running in a hot stream
down upon their beautiful silk frocks, which were completely ruined, and
not a doll had its nose remaining. Another time, Harry pricked a hole in
his own beautiful large gas ball, wishing to see how the gas could
possibly escape, after which, in a moment, it shrivelled up into a
useless empty bladder,--and when his kite was flying up to the clouds,
Harry often wished that he could be tied to the tail himself, so as to
fly also through the air like a bird, and see every thing.
Mrs. Crabtree always wore a prodigious bunch of jingling keys in her
pocket, that rung whenever she moved, as if she carried a dinner bell in
her pocket, and Frank said it was like a rattlesnake giving warning of
her approach, which was of great use, as everybody had time to put on a
look of good behaviour before she arrived. Even Betty, the under
nursery-maid, felt in terror of Mrs. Crabtree's entrance, and was
obliged to work harder than any six house-maids united. Frank told her
one day that he thought brooms might soon be invented, which would go by
steam and brush carpets of themselves, but, in the meantime, not a grain
of dust could lurk in any corner of the nursery without being dislodged.
Betty would have required ten hands, and twenty pair of feet, to do all
the work that was expected; but the grate looked like jet, the windows
would not have soiled a cambric handkerchief, and the carpet was
switched with so many tea-leaves, that Frank thought Mrs. Crabtree often
took several additional cups of tea in order to leave a plentiful supply
of leaves for sweeping the floor next morning.
If Laura and Harry left any breakfast, Mrs. Crabtree kept it carefully
till dinner time, when they were obliged to finish the whole before
tasting meat; and if they refused it at dinner, the remains were kept
for supper. Mrs. Crabtree always informed them that she did it "for
their good," though Harry never could see any good that it did to
either of them; and when she mentioned how many poor children would be
glad to eat what they despised, he often wished the hungry beggars had
some of his own hot dinner, which he would gladly have spared to them;
for Harry was really so generous, that he would have lived upon air, if
he might be of use to anybody. Time passed on, and Lady Harriet engaged
a master for some hours a-day to teach the children lessons, while even
Mrs. Crabtree found no other fault to Harry and Laura, except that in
respect to good behaviour their memories were like a sieve, which let
out every thing they were desired to keep in mind. They seemed always to
hope, somehow or other, when Mrs. Crabtree once turned her back, she
would never shew her face again; so their promises of better conduct
were all "wind without rain,"--very loud and plenty of them, but no good
effect to be seen afterwards.
Among her many other torments, Mrs. Crabtree rolled up Laura's hair
every night on all sides of her head, in large stiff curl-papers, till
they were as round and hard as walnuts, after which, she tied on a
night-cap, as tightly as possible above all, saying this would curl the
hair still better. Laura could not lay any part of her head on the
pillow, without suffering so much pain that, night after night, she sat
up in bed, after Mrs. Crabtree had bustled out of the room, and quietly
took the cruel papers out, though she was punished so severely for doing
so, that she obeyed orders at last and lay wide awake half the night
with torture; and it was but small comfort to Laura afterwards, that
Lady Harriet's visitors frequently admired the forest of long glossy
ringlets that adorned her head, and complimented Mrs. Crabtree on the
trouble it must cost her to keep that charming hair in order. Often did
Laura wish that it were ornamenting any wig-block, rather than her own
head; and one day Lady Harriet laughed heartily, when some strangers
admired her little grand-daughter's ringlets, and Laura asked, very
anxiously, if they would like to cut off a few of the longest, and keep
them for her sake.
"Your hair does curl like a cork-screw," said Frank, laughing. "If I
want to draw a cork out of a beer bottle any day, I shall borrow one of
those ringlets, Laura!"
"You may laugh, Frank, for it is fun to you and death to me," answered
poor Laura, gravely shaking her curls at him. "I wish we were all bald,
like uncle David! During the night, I cannot lie still on account of
those tiresome curls, and all day I dare not stir for fear of spoiling
them, so they are never out of my head."
"Nor off your head! How pleasant it must be to have Mrs. Crabtree
combing and scolding, and scolding and combing, for hours every day!
Poor Laura! we must get Dr. Bell to say that they shall be taken off on
pain of death, and then, perhaps, grandmama would order some Irish
reapers to cut them down with a sickle."
"Frank! what a lucky boy you are to be at school, and not in the
nursery! I wish next year would come immediately, for then I shall have
a governess, after which good-bye to Mrs. Crabtree, and the wearisome
curl-papers."
"I don't like school!" said Harry. "It is perfect nonsense to plague me
with lessons now. All big people can read and write, so, of course, I
shall be able to do like others. There is no hurry about it!"
Never was there a more amiable, pious, excellent boy than Frank, who
read his Bible so attentively, and said his prayers so regularly every
morning and evening, that he soon learned both to know his duty and to
do it. Though he laughed heartily at the scrapes which Harry and Laura
so constantly fell into, he often also helped them out of their
difficulties; being very different from most elderly boys, who find an
odd kind of pleasure in teazing younger children--pulling their
hair--pinching their arms--twitching away their dinners--and twenty
more plans for tormenting, which Frank never attempted to enjoy, but he
often gave Harry and Laura a great deal of kind, sober, good advice,
which they listened to very attentively while they were in any new
distress, but generally forgot again as soon as their spirits rose.
Frank came home only upon Saturdays and Sundays, because he attended
during most of the week at Mr. Lexicon's academy, where he gradually
became so clever, that the masters all praised his extraordinary
attention, and covered him with medals, while Major Graham often filled
his pockets with a reward of money, after which he ran towards the
nearest shop to spend his little fortune in buying a present for
somebody. Frank scarcely ever wanted anything for himself, but he always
wished to contrive some kind generous plan for other people; and Major
Graham used to say, "if that boy had only sixpence in the world, he
would lay it all out on penny tarts to distribute among half-a-dozen of
his friends." He even saved his pocket-money once, during three whole
months, to purchase a gown for Mrs. Crabtree, who looked almost
good-humoured during the space of five minutes, when Frank presented it
to her, saying, in his joyous merry voice, "Mrs. Crabtree! I wish you
health to wear it, strength to tear it, and money to buy another!"
Certainly there never was such a gown before! It had been chosen by
Frank and Harry together, who thought nothing could be more perfect. The
colour was so bright an apple-green, that it would have put any body's
teeth on edge to look at it, and the whole was dotted over with large
round spots of every colour, as if a box of wafers had been showered
upon the surface. Laura wished Mrs. Crabtree might receive a present
every day, as it put her in such good-humour, and nearly three weeks
after passed this, without a single scold being heard in the nursery;
so Frank observed that he thought Mrs. Crabtree would soon be quite out
of practice.
"Laura!" said Major Graham, looking very sly one morning, "have you
heard all the new rules that Mrs. Crabtree has made?"
"No!" replied she in great alarm; "what are they?"
"In the first place, you are positively not to tear and destroy above
three frocks a-day; secondly, you and Harry must never get into a
passion, unless you are angry; thirdly, when either of you take
medicine, you are not to make wry faces, except when the taste is bad;
fourthly, you must never speak ill of Mrs. Crabtree herself, until she
is out of the room; fifthly, you are not to jump out of the windows, as
long as you can get out at the door"----
"Yes!" interrupted Laura, laughing, "and sixthly, when uncle David is
joking, we are not to be frightened by anything he says!"
"Seventhly, when next you spill grandmama's bottle of ink, Harry must
drink up every drop."
"Very well! he may swallow a sheet of blotting paper afterwards, to put
away the taste."
"I wish every body who writes a book, was obliged to swallow it," said
Harry. "It is such a waste of time reading, when we might be amusing
ourselves. Frank sat mooning over a book for two hours yesterday when we
wanted him to play. I am sure, some day his head will burst with
knowledge."
"That can never happen to you, Master Harry," answered Major Graham;
"you have a head, and so has a pin, but there is not much furniture in
either of them."