There was once a little boy, who perhaps might have been a good little
fellow if his friends had taken pains to make him so, but I do not know
how it was, instead of teaching him to be good, they gave him everything
he cried for; so, whenever he wished to have anything, he had only to
cry; and if he did not get it directly, he cried louder and louder till
at last he got it. By this means Alfred was not only very naughty but
very unhappy; he was crying from morning till night; he had no pleasure
in anything; he was in everybody's way, and nobody liked to be with
him. Well, one day his mamma thought she would give him a day of
pleasure, and make him very happy indeed, so she told him he should have
a feast, and dine under the great cedar tree that stood upon the lawn,
and that his cousins should be invited to dine with him, and that he
should have whatever he chose for his dinner. So she rang the bell, and
she told the servants to take out tables and chairs and to lay the cloth
upon the table under the tree; and she ordered her two footmen to be
ready to wait upon him. She desired the butler to tell the cook to
prepare the dinner, and to get all sorts of nice dishes for the feast;
but she said to Alfred, 'What shall you like best of all, my dear boy?'
So Alfred tried to think of something that he had never had before, and
he recollected that one day he had heard a lady say, who was dining
with his papa and mamma, that the oyster patties were the best she had
ever eaten. Now Alfred had never tasted oyster patties, so he said he
would have oyster patties for dinner. 'Oyster patties, my dear boy? You
cannot have oyster patties at this time of the year, there are no
oysters to be had,' his mamma said to him; 'try, love, to think of
something else.'
But naughty Alfred said, 'No, I can think of nothing else,' so the cook
was sent for, and desired to think of something that he might like as
well. The cook proposed first a currant pie, then a barberry pie, or a
codlin pie with custard. 'No, no, no,' said Alfred, shaking his head.
'Or a strawberry tart, my sweet boy; or apricot jam?' said his mamma,
in a soothing tone of voice.
But Alfred said, 'No, mamma, no, I don't like strawberries; I don't like
apricot jam; I want oysters.'
'But you cannot have oysters, my little master,' said the cook. 'But I
will have oysters,' said the little boy, 'and you shan't say that I
can't have them, shall she, mamma?' and he began to scream and to cry.
'Do not cry, my sweet soul,' said his mamma, 'and we will see what we
can do; dry up your tears, my little man, and come with me, and the
cook, I daresay, will be able to get some oysters before dinner; it is a
long time to dinner, you know, and I have some pretty toys for you
upstairs if you will come with me till dinner is ready.' So she took the
little crying boy by the hand and led him up to her room, and she
whispered to the cook as she passed not to say anything more about it
now, and that she hoped he would forget the oyster patties by the time
dinner was ready. In the meantime she took all the pains she could to
amuse and please him, and as fast as he grew tired of one toy she
brought out another. At last, after some hours, she gave him a beautiful
toy for which she had paid fifteen shillings. It was a sand toy of a
woman sitting at a spinning wheel, and when it was turned up the little
figure began spinning away, and the wheel turned round and round as fast
as if the woman who turned it had been alive. Alfred wanted to see how
it was done, but, instead of going to his mother to ask her if she would
be so good as to explain it to him, he began pulling it to pieces to
look behind it. For some time he was very busy, and he had just
succeeded in opening the large box at the back of the figure when all
the sand that was in it came pouring out upon the floor, and when he
tried to make the little woman spin again, he found she would not do it
any more; she could not, for it was the sand dropping down that had made
her move before.
Now do you know that Alfred was so very silly that he began to be angry
even with the toy, and he said, 'Spin, I say; spin directly,' and then
he shook it very hard, but in vain; the little hands did not move, and
the wheel stood still. So then he was very angry indeed, and, setting up
a loud cry, he threw the toy to the other end of the room. Just at this
very moment the servant opened the door and said that dinner was ready
and that Alfred's cousins were arrived.
'Come, my dear child, you are tired of your toys, I see,' said mamma,
'so come to dinner, darling; it is all ready, under the tree.' So away
they went, leaving the room all strewed with toys, with broken pieces,
and the sand all spilt in a heap upon the floor. When they went under
the dark spreading branches of the fine old cedar tree, there they saw
the table covered with dishes and garnished with flowers; there were
chickens, and ham, and tongue, and lobsters, besides tarts, and
custards, and jellies, and cakes, and cream, and I do not know how many
nice things besides; there was Alfred's high chair at the head of the
table, and he was soon seated in it, as master of the feast, with his
mother sitting by him, his cousins opposite to him, his nurse standing
on the other side, and the two footmen waiting besides. As soon as his
cousins were helped to what they liked best, his mamma said, 'What will
you eat first, Alfred, my love? A wing of a chicken?' 'No,' said Alfred,
pushing it away. 'A slice of ham, darling?' said nurse. 'No,' said
Alfred, in a louder tone. 'A little bit of lobster, my dear?' 'No, no,'
replied the naughty boy. 'Well, what _will_ you have then?' said his
mother, who was almost tired of him. 'I will have oyster patties,' said
he. 'That is the only thing you cannot have, my love, you know, so do
not think of it any more, but taste a bit of this pie; I am sure you
will like it.'
'You _said_ I should have oyster patties by dinner time,' said Alfred,
'and so I will have nothing else.' 'I am sorry you are such a sad
naughty child,' said his mother; 'I thought you would have been so
pleased with all these nice things to eat.' 'They are _not_ nice,' said
the child, who was not at all grateful for all that his mother had done,
but was now in such a passion, that he took the piece of currant tart,
which his nurse again offered to him, and squeezing up as much as his
two little hands could hold, he threw it at his nurse, and stained her
nice white handkerchief and apron with the red juice. Just at this
moment his papa came into the garden, and walked up to the table. 'What
is all this?' said he. 'Alfred, you seem to be a very naughty boy,
indeed; and I must tell you, sir, I shall allow this no longer; get down
from your chair, sir, and beg your nurse's pardon.' Alfred had hardly
ever heard his father speak so before, and he felt so frightened, that
he left off crying, and did as he was bid. Then his father took him by
the hand, and led him away. His mother said she was sure he would now be
good, and eat the currant tart. But his papa said, 'No, no, it is now
too late, he must come with me'; so he led him away, without saying
another word. He took him into the village, and he stopped at the door
of a poor cottage.
'May we come in?' said his father. 'Oh yes, and welcome,' said a poor
woman, who was standing at a table with a saucepan in her hand. 'What
are you doing, my good woman?' 'Only putting out the children's supper,
your honour.' 'And what have you got for their supper?' 'Only some
potatoes, please you, sir, but they be nicely boiled, and here come the
hungry boys! They are coming in from their work, and they will soon make
an end of them, I warrant.'
As she said these words, in came John, and William, and Thomas, all with
rosy cheeks and smiling faces. They sat down, one on a wooden stool, one
on a broken chair, and one on the corner of the table, and they all
began to eat the potatoes very heartily. But Alfred's papa said, 'Stop,
my good boys, do not eat any more, but come with me.' The boys stared,
but their mother told them to do as they were bid, so they left off
eating, and followed the gentleman. Alfred and his papa walked on till
they arrived once more under the cedar tree in the garden, and there was
the fine feast, all standing just as they had left it, for Alfred's
cousins were gone away, and his mamma would not have the dinner taken
away, because she hoped that Alfred would come back to it. 'Now, boys,'
said the gentleman, 'you may all sit down to this table, and eat
whatever you like.'
John, William, and Thomas sat down as quickly as they could, and began
to devour the chickens and tarts, and all the good things at a great
rate; and Alfred, who now began to be very hungry, would gladly have
been one of the party; but when he was going to sit down, his papa said,
'No, sir, this feast is not for _you_; there is nothing here that you
like to eat, you know; so you will wait upon these boys, if you please,
who seem as if they would find plenty that they will like.' Alfred at
this began to cry again, and said he wanted to go to his mamma; but his
father did not mind his crying, and said he should not go to his mamma
again till he was quite a good boy. 'So now, sir, hand this bread to
John, and now take a clean plate to Thomas, and now stand ready to carry
this custard to William. There now, wait till they have all done.' It
was of no use now to cry or scream; he was obliged to do it all. When
the boys had quite finished their supper, they went home, and Alfred was
led by his father into the house. Before he went to bed, a cup of milk
and water and a piece of brown bread were put before him, and his
father said, 'That is your supper, Alfred.' Alfred began to cry again,
and said he did not want such a supper as that. 'Very well,' said his
father, 'then go to bed without, and it shall be saved for your
breakfast.' Alfred cried and screamed louder than ever; so his father
ordered the maid to put him to bed. When he was in bed, he thought his
mamma would come and see him, and bring him something nice, and he lay
awake a long while; but she did not come, and he cried and cried till at
last he fell asleep.
In the morning when he awoke he was so hungry he could hardly wait to be
dressed, but asked for his breakfast every minute. When he saw the maid
bring in the brown bread again without any butter, and some milk and
water, he was very near crying again; but he thought if he did he should
perhaps lose his breakfast as he had lost his supper; so he checked his
tears, and ate a hearty meal.
'Well,' said his father, who came into the room just as he was eating
the last bit of bread. 'I am glad to see the little boy who could not
yesterday find anything good enough for him at a feast eating such
simple fare as this so heartily. Come, Alfred, now you may come to your
dear mamma.'