William then addressed his sister, for by that tender name he always
called her, and asked her why she seemed so angry with him. "Certainly,"
said he, "you cannot be angry at Charlotte having her share of the
apples. You very well know that I always loved you best, and therefore
endeavoured to throw into your apron those apples, which, by chance,
fell into Charlotte's. You must be sensible, that I could not afterwards
take them from her. Besides, I thought you of too generous a disposition
to take notice of such trifles. Be assured, the first opportunity that
shall offer, I will give you a convincing proof that I had no design to
vex you, whatever you may at present think of my intentions."
"Very pretty, indeed, Mr. William!" replied Amelia, with a look of
uneasiness and disdain. "Pray who told you that I was vexed? Suppose
Miss Charlotte's apples had been ten times finer than mine, would that
be any consideration to me? You very well know, Sir, that I am no
glutton; neither should I have taken any notice of the preference you
showed her, had it not been for that saucy little creature's looks. I
never wish to see her more: and, as for you, fall down on your knees
this instant, or I never will forgive you while I live."
Little William could not think of submitting to such an indignity, as
that would be confessing a fault, of which he was not guilty, and
therefore now stood more upright than before. "I am no story-teller,
Miss Amelia," said he, "and therefore it is very wrong in you not to
believe what I so positively affirm; for I certainly had no design to
vex you."
"Very wrong in me, Sir!" replied Amelia. "This is pretty indeed! But you
need not thus affront me, because Miss Charlotte is your favourite!" So
saying, and bestowing a contemptuous curtsy on him, she left him with an
affected air of scorn and contempt.
Dinner being now ready, they sat down at table, but pouted at each other
all the time it lasted. Amelia would not once drink, in order to avoid
saying, "Your good health, William;" and William, on his part, was so
vexed at her treatment of him, that he was determined not to give up the
point. Amelia, however, could not help sometimes stealing a glance at
William, and, from a corner of her eye, watch all his motions. As it
happened, one of these sly glances met the eye of William, who was
equally attentive to watch all the emotions of Amelia, without wishing
to be observed. Their eyes thus meeting, she instantly turned hers away
to another object; and as William attributed this to contempt, which in
reality it was not, he affected much indifference, and continued eating
with the most apparent composure.
As soon as the cloth was removed, and the wine and fruit put on the
table, poor Amelia, being sadly out of temper at the indifference she
experienced from William, made a disrespectful answer to a question put
to her by her mamma, and, for a second offence of the same nature, was
ordered to retire from table. She obeyed, and bursting into a flood of
tears, instantly withdrew, without caring whither she went. However, it
so happened that the garden door was open; she therefore flew down the
walk, and went into the arbour, in order there, in secret, to vent her
grief. Here she cried most lamentably; and soon repented of her
quarrelling with William, who constantly, whenever she happened to get
into disgrace with her mamma, would not only weep with her, but
endeavour to bring about a reconciliation, which he never failed to
accomplish.
Though William continued at table, he could not help feeling for the
disgrace of Amelia. He had fixed his eye on two peaches, and
endeavoured to contrive means of getting them into his pocket, in order
to convey them to Amelia, whom he knew he should find somewhere in the
garden, and he could easily make an excuse to go thither; yet he was
fearful of having his intentions discovered. He pushed back his chair,
then brought it forwards several times, and was continually looking
down, as if for something on the carpet. "Pretty little Cæsar! sweet
Pompey!" cried he, speaking to two dogs then in the room. At this time
he held a peach in his hand, which he meant to slip into his pocket as
soon as he could discover the eyes of my lord and lady attracted by any
other object. "Only see, papa and mamma," continued he, "how prettily
they are playing!"
His lordship replied, that they would not eat one another, he would
answer for it; and having just looked at them, put himself into his
former position. Thus poor William, who thought he was sure of then
pocketing the peach, was sadly disappointed, and obliged to replace it
on the table.
These motions, however, were observed by Lady Russel, who conjectured
what were his intentions. She therefore for some time enjoyed the poor
fellow's embarrassments, and made his lordship acquainted with it by
looks and dumb motions.
William, who had no idea that his scheme was suspected, being fearful of
trying the same stratagem twice, instantly thought of another expedient.
He took a peach, and placed it in the hollow of his hands both put
together, after which he conducted it to his mouth, and made believe as
though he was really eating it. Then, while with his left hand he found
means to clap his peach into a cavity he had previously hollowed in the
napkin on his knees, he put his right hand out to reach the other, which
he disposed of in the same manner.
In a few minutes my lord and lady forgot to watch the motions of
William, and entered into conversation on various subjects. He therefore
thought this a proper opportunity to get away, rose up from table with
both peaches in the napkin, and began to imitate the mewing of a cat,
which a young shepherd's boy had lately taught him. His view in this was
to engage the attention of Cæsar and Pompey, in which he succeeded, as
they both got up, and jumped about the room.
Lady Russel was a little angry with him for making such a noise, and
told him, if he wanted to make such a mewing as that, the garden was the
most proper place. William pretended to be very much confused at this
reproof, though the consequence of it was the very thing he wanted. He
then instantly ran up to Cæsar, "See, mamma," said William, "he wants to
bite Pompey!" and as he turned, he dexterously slipped the napkin into
his pocket, and pretended to run after Cæsar, to punish him. The dog ran
towards the door Amelia had left open when she went into the garden, and
away went William in pursuit of her.
Lady Russel called William back, and asked him where he was going. "My
dear mamma," said he, "if you please, I will take a turn in the garden,
and I hope you will not refuse me that favour." As lady Russel did not
immediately answer him, he lowered his voice and spoke in a more
suppliant manner. At last, having obtained her permission, away he ran
with so much haste, that his foot slipped, and down he fell; but,
luckily, neither he nor the peaches were hurt.
After searching round the garden for his sister, he at last found her
in the arbour, sitting in an attitude of sorrow. She was exceedingly
unhappy to think she had grieved the three best friends she had, her
worthy parents and her dear William. "My sweetest Amelia," said the
little fellow, falling on his knees at the same time, "let us be
friends. I would freely ask forgiveness for my fault, had I really
intended to displease you. If you will ask my pardon, I will ask yours
also. My pretty Amelia, let us be friends. Here are two nice peaches,
which I could not think of eating while you were not present to partake
of them."
"Ah, my dearest Billy," said Amelia, squeezing his hand while she spoke,
and weeping on his shoulder, "what a sweet good-tempered little fellow
you are! Certainly," continued she, sobbing while she spoke, "those that
are friends to us in our misfortunes are truly valuable. It was very
wrong in me to be so vexed, as I was this morning, about the loss of a
few apples. It was the insulting look that Miss Charlotte gave me that
was the cause of it; but I will think of her no more. Will you forgive
me?" added she, wiping off the tears she had let fall on William's
hand. "I confess that I sometimes love to plague you; but keep your
peaches, for I cannot think of eating them."
"As to plaguing me, sister," answered William, "you may do that as often
as you like; but, I assure you, nobody shall do so but yourself: as to
the peaches, I most certainly will not eat them. I have already told you
so, and my word is like the law of the Medes and Persians, which
altereth not."
"For the very same reason," said Amelia, "I shall not eat them," and
immediately threw them both over the garden wall; for, besides her
having said she would not eat them, she could not bear the thought of
receiving a bribe to reconcile a quarrel. Amelia's next consideration
was, how to make it up with her mamma; and she said she should be happy
indeed, if she would but permit her to appear before her, and ask her
pardon.
The generous little William no sooner heard these words, than he
promised to settle that business, and away he instantly ran; but before
he had taken many steps, he stopped short, and, turning round, said, "I
will tell mamma, that it was I who made you anger her, by having vexed
you in the morning."
Little William succeeded beyond his expectations, and all parties were
soon reconciled to each other. A friendship so affectionate and generous
is highly worthy of the imitation of all my juvenile readers.
[Illustration]
THE RIVAL DOGS.
[Illustration]
A gentleman, whose name was Howard, had brought up two pretty dogs from
puppies. The one he called Castor and the other Pollux, hoping they
would live in such friendship together as did the two illustrious
heroes, after whom they were named. Though they both came from the same
mother, and, at the same time, had been fed together, and equally
treated, yet it was soon seen that there was a great difference in their
tempers and dispositions.
Castor was of a meek and tractable nature; but Pollux was fierce and
quarrelsome. When any person took notice of the generous Castor, he
would wag his tail, and jump about for joy, nor was he ever jealous on
seeing more notice taken of his brother than of himself. The surly
Pollux, on the contrary, whenever Mr. Howard had him on his lap, would
growl and grumble at Castor if he attempted to come near him, or if any
one took notice of him.
When any of Mr. Howard's friends happened to come on a visit to his
house, and bring their dogs along with them, the good-natured Castor
would immediately mix among them, and, in his way, endeavoured to amuse
them. As he was by nature extremely pliant and engaging, they were all
peace and harmony whenever it fell to his lot to entertain them. They
would jump and play about the house, as boys do in school when they are
left to themselves.
The surly Pollux acted a very different part. He would sneak into a
corner, and bark all day at the strangers. If any one of them happened
to pass too near him, he would then be sure to snarl and grin, and would
often start up, and bite their ears or tails. If his master happened to
take any notice of either of the strange dogs on account of their
good-nature or handsomeness, Pollux would howl as loud as if thieves
were actually breaking into the house.
This odious disposition of Pollux did not escape the notice of Mr.
Howard, who gradually began to neglect him; while Castor, on the
contrary, was every day increasing in his master's favour.
As Mr. Howard was one day sitting at table, it suddenly entered his mind
to make a more particular trial of the temper of these two dogs than he
had hitherto done. Both happened to be attending at table, but Pollux
was nearest his master; for the good-natured Castor, in order to avoid
strife and contention, always let him choose his place.
Mr. Howard threw a nice piece of meat to Pollux, which he devoured with
much greediness. Castor showed no signs of uneasiness at this, but
patiently waited till his master should think it was his turn. Soon
afterwards, Mr. Howard threw Castor a bone, with hardly any meat on it:
but he took it without showing the least mark of discontent. The surly
Pollux, however, no sooner saw his brother engaged on a meatless bone,
though he had feasted on his own delicious morsel, than he fell upon
him, and took it from him. The good-natured Castor made no opposition,
but gave up the bone without a murmur.
My readers must not from hence imagine that Castor was a coward, or was
in the least afraid of the strength of his brother; for he had lately
given sufficient proof of his courage and resolution, in a battle he had
been drawn into by Pollux, whose intolerable moroseness had brought on
him the vengeance of a neighbouring dog. Pollux, after engaging his
antagonist only a few minutes, though he had provoked the dog to try his
strength, ran away like a coward; but Castor, in order to cover the
retreat of his brother, and without any one to take his part, fought him
like a hero, and at last forced him to run away likewise.
Mr. Howard was well acquainted with this circumstance; and, as he had
before established his credit in point of courage, so was his master now
fully convinced of his good temper, and the surly and cowardly
disposition of his brother. "My good fellow," said Mr. Howard to
Castor, "it is but just that you should, at least, fare as well as your
brother, who does not deserve as much as you." So saying, he cut off a
large piece of nice meat and gave it to Castor.
Pollux, seeing so nice a morsel given to his brother, accompanied with
such cutting words from his master, began to growl and snarl. "Since you
have shown so much complaisance and generosity to your brother,"
continued Mr. Howard, still speaking to Castor, "who in return treats
you with ill manners, jealousy, and envy, you shall in future be my own
dog, and be at liberty to range about the house at your pleasure: but
your brother shall be confined in the yard. Here," cried he, "bring a
chain for Pollux, and order the carpenter to make him a little house!"
The order was instantly obeyed, and Pollux was led to his kennel, while
his brother rambled about at liberty.
Had Pollux received so singular a mark of favour, he would undoubtedly
have supported it with insolence; but Castor was of a different
disposition, and appeared very unhappy at his brother's disgrace.
Whenever any nice bit was given to Castor, he would run away with it to
Pollux, wag his tail for joy, and invite him to partake of it. In short,
the visited him every night in his house, and did every thing he could
to amuse him under his sufferings.
Notwithstanding all these marks of tenderness, Pollux always received
his brother in the most surly manner, howling as though he were come to
devour him, and treating him with every mark of disrespect. At length,
rage and disappointment inflamed his blood, he pined away by degrees,
and at last died a miserable spectacle.
The moral of this history is so obvious, that there hardly appears a
necessity to tell my young readers, that such a disposition as Pollux's
must render its possessor an object of contempt and abhorrence, while
that of Castor will ever be beloved and respected.
[Illustration]
CLEOPATRA; OR THE REFORMED
LITTLE TYRANT.
[Illustration]
A pert little hussey, whose name was Cleopatra, was continually teasing
and commanding her poor brother. "So, you will not do what I bid you,
Mr. Obstinacy?" she would often say to him: "Come, come, Sir, obey, or
it shall be worse for you."
If Cleopatra's word might be taken for it, her brother did every thing
wrong; but, on the contrary, whatever she thought of doing was the
masterpiece of reason and sound sense. If he proposed any kind of
diversion, she was sure to consider it as dull and insipid; but it
often happened, that she would herself the next day recommend the same
thing, and, having forgotten what she had said of it before, consider it
as the most lively and entertaining.
Her brother was obliged to submit to her unaccountable whims and
fancies, or else endure the most disagreeable lectures a little female
tongue could utter. If ever he presumed to be so hardy as to reason with
her on her strange conduct, instant destruction to his playthings were
the inevitable consequence of it.
Her parents saw with regret this strange and tyrannical disposition of
their daughter, and in vain did every thing they could think of to break
her of it. Her mother, in particular, continually enforced on her mind,
that such children never procured the esteem of others; and that a girl,
who set up her own opinion against that of every one else, would soon
become intolerable and insupportable to all her acquaintance. This
prudent advice, however, made no impression on her stubborn heart; and
her brother, wearied out by her caprice and tyranny, began to have very
little affection for her. It one day happened that a gentleman of a free
and open temper, dined at their house. He could not help observing with
what a haughty air she treated her poor brother, and, indeed, every
other person in the room. At first, the rules of politeness kept him
from saying any thing; but at last, tired out with her impertinence, he
began addressing his discourse to her mamma in the following manner:
"I was lately in France, and, as I was fond of being present at the
soldiers' exercises, I used to go as often as I could, to see their
manoeuvres on the parade, nearly in the same manner as they do here at
St. James's. Among the soldiers there were many I observed with
whiskers, which gave them a very fierce and soldier-like look. Now, had
I a child like your Cleopatra, I would instantly give her a soldier's
uniform, and put her on a pair of whiskers, when she might, with rather
more propriety than at present, act the part of a commander."
Cleopatra heard this, and stood covered with confusion; she could not
help blushing, and was unable to conceal her tears. However, this
reproach perfectly reformed her, and she became sensible how unbecoming
was a tyrannizing temper. It has been observed, that to be sensible of
our errors is half the work of reformation. So it happened with
Cleopatra, who with the assistance of her mother's prudent counsels,
became an amiable girl.
Her reformation was a credit to her; and it is much to be wished that
all young ladies, who take no pains to conquer their passions, would at
last imitate Cleopatra, and wish to avoid being told, that a soldier's
dress and a pair of whiskers would better become them than nice cambric
frocks and silk slips. Had Cleopatra attended to the advice of her
parents, and not have imagined that greatness consists in impertinence,
she would have been happy much sooner than she was.
[Illustration]
THE PASSIONATE BOY.
[Illustration]
Young Frederick had naturally a noble soul, elevated thoughts, and
generous notions. His turn of mind was lively, his imagination strong
and quick, and his temper cheerful and pleasing. Indeed, the elegance of
his person, and his behaviour and accomplishments, gained him the
respect of every one; but, notwithstanding all these amiable qualities,
he had one unhappy defect, which was that of giving way too readily to
the most violent emotions of passion.
It would frequently happen that, while he was amusing himself in the
circle of his playmates, the most trifling contradiction would ruffle
his temper, and fill him with the highest degree of rage and fury,
little short of a state of madness.
As he happened to be one day walking about his chamber, and meditating
on the necessary preparations for a treat his father had permitted him
to give his sister, his dear friend and favourite, Marcus, came to him,
to advise with him on that business. Frederick, being lost in thought,
saw not his friend, who therefore having spoken to him in vain, drew
nearer to him, and began to pull him by the sleeve. Frederick, angry,
and out of patience with these interruptions, suddenly turned round, and
gave Marcus such a push, that he sent him reeling across the room, and
he at last fell against the wainscot.
Marcus lay motionless on the floor, without the least appearance of
life; for, in his fall, he had struck his head against something which
had given him a deep and terrible wound, from which issued a great
quantity of blood. How shall we describe the situation of poor
Frederick, who loved his friend tenderly, and for whom he would, on
occasion, have sacrificed his life?
Frederick fell down beside him, crying out most lamentably, "He is dead!
he is dead! I have killed my dear friend Marcus!" So great were his
fright and consternation, that he had no idea of calling for assistance,
but lay by his side, uttering the most dismal groans. Happily, however,
his father heard him, and, instantly running in, took up Marcus in his
arms. He called for some sugar to stop the bleeding of the wound, and
having applied some salts to his nose, and some water to his temples,
they brought him a little to himself.
Frederick was transported with joy when he perceived symptoms of life in
his friend; but the fear of relapse kept him in the greatest anxiety.
They immediately sent for a surgeon, who, as soon as he arrived,
searched the wound. He found it was not in the temple, but so very close
to it, that the tenth part of an inch nearer would probably have made
the wound dangerous indeed, if not mortal.
Marcus, being carried home, soon became delirious, and Frederick could
not be persuaded to leave him. He sat down by the side of his poor
friend, wholly absorbed in silence. Marcus, while he remained in that
delirious state, frequently pronounced the name of Frederick. "My dear
Frederick," he would sometimes say, "what could I have done to deserve
being treated in this manner? Yet, I am sure, you cannot be less unhappy
than myself, when you reflect you wounded me without a cause. However, I
would not wish your generous nature should be grieved. Let us forgive
each other; I for vexing you, and you for wounding me."
In this manner did Marcus talk, without being sensible that Frederick
was near him, though he held him by the hand at the same time. Every
word, thus pronounced, in which there could be neither flattery nor
deceit, went to the heart of the afflicted Frederick, and rendered his
grief almost insupportable.
In ten days time, however, it pleased God to abate the fever, and he was
enabled to get up, to the great joy of his parents; but how can we
express the feelings of Frederick on this happy occasion! That task must
be left for those who may have unfortunately been in a similar
situation; his joy now was undoubtedly as great as his sorrow had been.
Marcus at last got perfectly well, and Frederick, in consequence,
recovered his former cheerfulness and good humour. He now stood in need
of no other lesson, than the sorrowful event that had lately taken
place, to break himself of that violence of temper, to which he had been
so long a slave. In a little time, no appearance of the wound remained,
excepting a small scar near his temple, which Frederick could never look
at without some emotion, even after they were both grown up to manhood.
Indeed, it ever afterwards was considered as a seal of that friendship,
which they never lost sight of.
[Illustration]
CAROLINE; OR, A LESSON TO CURE
VANITY.
[Illustration]
A plain white frock had hitherto been the only dress of Caroline; silver
buckles in her red morocco shoes; and her ebon hair, which had never
felt the torturing iron, flowed upon her shoulders in graceful ringlets,
now and then disturbed by the gentle winds.
Being one day in company with some little girls, who, though no older
than herself, were dressed in all the empty parade of fashion, the glare
and glitter of those fine clothes raised in her heart a desire she had
never before felt.
As soon as she got home, "My dear mamma," said she, "I have this
afternoon seen Miss Flippant and her two sisters, whom you very well
know. The eldest is not older than myself, and yet they were all dressed
in the most elegant manner. Their parents must certainly have great
pleasure in seeing them so finely dressed; and, as they are not richer
than you, do, my dear mamma, let me have a fine silk slip, embroidered
shoes like theirs, and let my hair be dressed by Mr. Frizzle, who is
said to be a very capital man in his profession!"