It was the custom of Mr. Clayton to present gifts to his children on
their birthdays, and his gifts were of less or greater value, according
to their industry, improvement, and good conduct during the year. It was
also the wish of Mr. Clayton that his eldest son and daughter should
each keep a journal of all their actions. He did not desire to see this
journal himself, but he advised them to read over at the end of each
week what they had written, that the record of what was good might
incite them to other acts of virtue, and the history of their mistakes
and errors serve as a warning for the future.
This kind, indulgent father seldom had cause to punish his children;
they were indeed very good and docile children, always respecting the
commands of their parents, and loving each other with the true fondness
of brothers and sisters.
One only of these children went to school, and that was the eldest boy,
Laurence Clayton. The others were instructed by a governess at home.
Laurence was a fine boy, the hope and pride of his family. For nine
birthdays he had received gifts from the hand of his father as the
reward of his good conduct, and now his tenth birthday was approaching,
and Mr. Clayton had heard so pleasing an account of Laurence from his
schoolmaster, that he said, beside the present he meant to give him, he
would on the birthday grant any favour Laurence should ask of him.
A week only was wanting to complete Laurence's tenth year. Company was
invited, and the young folks were all thinking and talking of the
expected pleasures of that day--all but Laurence, who became pensive and
silent, shunned his brothers and sisters, and even the presence of his
father, to shut himself up in his own room; but, as he replied, when
asked about his health, that he was very well, it was supposed that he
was busy at his studies, and they still prepared for the birthday.
On the 24th of August Laurence was ten years old, and a finer morning
than it proved was never seen. The two families that were invited came
to breakfast. All were assembled in the parlour, and admiring a very
handsome pair of globes, which, mounted on mahogany stands, were to be
presented to Laurence; when he entered the room, not dressed in the suit
of clothes that had been laid in his chamber, but in his oldest jacket,
his cheeks quite pale, and his eyes red and swelled with weeping. He
turned his head away as he passed the globes, and, dropping on his knees
before his father, he said, 'O, sir, you promised to grant me a favour
this day, pray let it be your forgiveness! I know I do not deserve your
pardon, but if you will forgive me this once, I am sure I never, never
can deceive you again.'
Mr. Clayton, shocked and surprised, desired to know what fault he had
committed, when Laurence took his journal-book from his pocket and gave
it into his father's hand, saying, 'I am ashamed to repeat what I have
done, but it is written there, sir.' Mr. Clayton took the book, and told
Laurence to withdraw till he had read it. On opening the journal Mr.
Clayton found that all was regular down to the entry for the 2nd of
August, which ran thus:--
Monday, August 2nd.--Being a school holiday, I went out with my father
in a boat. He taught me to steer the rudder, while he managed the oars.
It was a happy day. We dined at Mr. Black's, whose son showed me some
fine drawings from busts of heathen gods, goddesses, and heroes; and my
aunt Eleanor, who was there, gave me five shillings to buy Baldwin's
_Pantheon_, that I might read the history of Jupiter, Juno, Mars,
Minerva, Venus, Bacchus, Apollo, Hercules, and all the rest of the Pagan
deities. Coming home, my father praised me for behaving well. Indeed it
was a happy day.'
From the happy day Laurence had thus described, there was an entire
blank in the journal; but between the leaves was placed a written paper,
from which Mr. Clayton read as follows:--
'August 23rd.--To-morrow is my birthday, and my father is preparing
gifts for me, which he thinks I deserve. My brothers and sisters are
rejoicing, but I am wretched; when my father smiles on me, I feel my
cheeks burn, and my heart swells as if it would burst; and when he
calls me his dear good Laurence, something rises in my throat, and seems
about to choke me. If these are the feelings that belong to guilt, I
wonder any one can bear the pain of being wicked: for no headache or
toothache ever gave me a quarter of the torment I have suffered since I
became a wicked boy. Oh, my dear, kind father, take pity on me, and this
once forgive me. I will tell you truly all I have done.
'On Tuesday, August 3rd, sir, I set out to go to school. It was the day
after I had been so happy with you in the boat and at Mr. Black's, and
as I met William Thompson, I could not help telling him what a pleasant
day I had spent. "Oh, then," said he, "you are fond of the water; I and
two or three more are just going to take a little row, and you shall go
with us." At first I refused, but William told me I was too early for
school, and as he was also going to school, and promised to be back in
time, I at last consented.
'Three dirty boys were waiting at the side of the river, and though I
did not like their company, I was then ashamed to go back, so we all
jumped into a boat and rowed away. For some time we went on very well;
both wind and tide were in our favour, and it was quite easy to manage
the boat.
'The fine day and the pleasant river soon made me forget school, till I
heard some distant clock strike twelve; then, distressed at what I had
done, I insisted we should go back. But it was very hard to row against
wind and tide, and they began to quarrel and were going to fight. I
sprang up to snatch the oar from a boy who was going to strike another,
and in suddenly raising my arm I knocked his hat off into the river. It
swam away, and as we were turning to row after it, we dropped one of the
oars, and trying to row with the other, we ran the boat aground upon a
bank of mud. There we were obliged to stay, for we could not force the
boat off, nor could we wade to the shore through that mud. I bore the
blame of these misfortunes; they all abused me sadly, and the boy whose
hat was lost, cried and sobbed most bitterly: for, he said, he belonged
to a cruel master, and should be beaten almost to death; so at last, to
make him quiet, I promised to give him mine.
'Well, sir, there we stayed, and I heard the same clock strike one, two,
three, and four. At last, two men called to us from the opposite side of
the river. They were the owners of the boat we had taken away, and were
in search of it. They got another boat, and came to us in a great
passion, swearing that if we did not pay them five shillings each for
the day's work we had hindered them of, and pay for the oar we had lost,
they would take us before a justice of the peace and have us sent to
prison. William Thompson had no money in his pocket, but I had the five
shillings my Aunt Eleanor had given me the day before at Mr. Black's to
buy the _Pantheon_; that they took, but not being enough to satisfy
their demand, they also took away my satchel with all my school books,
telling me where they lived, and that they would restore it safe as soon
as I brought them the rest of the money. The other boys were so poor and
so ragged, the men did not ask anything of them.
'It was near six o'clock when we got on shore, about the time I knew I
should be expected home from school. William Thompson went down on his
knees to beg I would not tell what had happened, promising at the same
time to bring the money to release my books the next morning. Indeed I
was so much ashamed of having played truant thus, that I was glad enough
to conceal it. The boy whose hat I had knocked off into the river would
not leave me till he had got mine, so I was forced to slip in at the
garden-gate and steal up the back stairs to my own room, that I might not
be seen to come home without my hat. I was now very hungry, yet afraid to
show myself; when I was called to tea, my legs trembled under me as I
went downstairs. I met my sister Molly in the hall, who gave me an apple,
and then asked me what I had had for dinner at school. I turned from her,
for I knew not what to answer; but as soon as I got into the parlour,
you, sir, told me to bring you my Latin grammar. Then I was forced to
answer, and a lie seemed easier than the truth: so I said I had left my
satchel and my books at school. I could not play nor amuse myself any
way all that evening, and when I took up my journal, what had I to set
down--that I had played truant, lost my hat and my money, and told my
father a lie? No, no, I could not bear to write all that.
'Next morning, sir, I had new troubles. I was forced to steal slyly out
of the house, that no one might see me put on my best hat, and when I
got to William Thompson's, he had got no money to give me. I dared not
go to school without my books, so I went to seek the man that had them.
He was gone to his daily work, and we could not find him, and I waited
and loitered till he came home to his dinner. I begged and prayed for my
books, and at last he gave them up to me, making me promise I would
bring him the money next day, or something that he could sell for money,
which if I did not do, he said he would come and declare the whole story
to you, sir. I got to school that day time enough for afternoon's
lessons, and was forced to tell another lie to my master, to excuse my
not coming sooner.
'I had no dinner either that day; but the pain of hunger was nothing to
the fear of being found out. Well, sir, to tell all the worst at once, I
have from time to time carried away, to pay the man whose oar we had
lost, my silver pen and pencil, my compasses, my pocket inkstand, and
that handsome bound set of Natural History you gave me on my last
birthday. Then in going to seek him, I have stayed away three more
mornings from school. And my head has been so filled with other thoughts
that I have not minded my lessons as I used to do. I have lost my place
in my class twice, have been punished once, and my master threatens to
make complaints to you, sir, of the change in my conduct. To excuse
wearing my best hat, I did also invent a wicked lie of having lost my
other at school.
'Alas! alas! how many sad things have I been guilty of since I first
played truant! If I had but confessed my fault that day, how many more I
should have avoided! I have never known a happy moment since, and if I
could describe to my brothers and sisters the pain and grief I have
felt, I am sure they would never be as naughty as I have been.
'O, sir, I cannot bear to deceive you any longer, and if you will grant
me your pardon, indeed, indeed, I will try never to offend you more.'
It is not possible to express how great Mr. Clayton's surprise and
sorrow was on perusing this paper; yet, convinced by Laurence's candid
confession of his faults that his penitence was sincere, he consented to
forgive him the past and restore him to his favour. Laurence knelt at
his father's feet, and while he kissed his parent's hand and bathed it
in tears of gratitude, he felt the first moment of pleasure he had known
for three long weeks.
Though all were glad to see Laurence forgiven, no one could be merry;
and it was the first grave birthday that had ever been known in the
family. The globes were covered up and sent into Mr. Clayton's library:
for though he could forgive, it would not have been right to have
rewarded Laurence, as if he had not done wrong. But that day twelvemonth
came, and then Laurence deserved the globes and the love and praise of
every one for his diligence and goodness throughout the year. Whenever
he was tempted to do wrong, he remembered that one error often becomes
the source of many others, and carefully avoided committing the first
fault. His journal was kept faithfully, and all the days in it were
happy days; and on his eleventh birthday Laurence could play and dance
with a light heart and a clear conscience.