workhouse, "No," said Clarissa, "you shall never leave me. From your
tenderness I formerly received the indulgences of a beloved child; and,
if in your prosperity I thought myself happy in the idea of being so
nearly related to you by adoption, I still think it more so now I see
you in adversity. Thank heaven and your adoption for my comfortable
situation! your maternal conduct was amply displayed in teaching me all
the necessary female arts; and I am happy in the reflection, that I can
make use of my knowledge for your sake. With health and courage, I fear
not being able to procure for us both at least a comfortable living."
This generous offer exceedingly affected the unhappy widow, who embraced
Clarissa, and with joy accepted of her proposal. This amiable girl, in
her turn, became the mother, by adoption, of her former benefactress.
Not contented with feeding her with the produce of an unremitted labour,
she consoled her in affliction, attended her in sickness, and
endeavoured, by the tenderest methods, to soften the iron hand of
fortune.
For two years did the constancy and ardour of Clarissa continue with
unwearied attention, and her only happiness seemed to consist in
promoting that of her friend. At the end of that period, when death
relieved the unhappy Dorinda from the cares and troubles of this life,
she sincerely lamented her death, and bewailed it as a grievous
misfortune.
A short time after died also the relation of Dorinda, of whom we have
lately spoken, and who had shown himself so shamefully insensible to
every claim of gratitude and kindred. As he could not carry his riches
with him, he supposed it would be making some atonement for his
ungenerous conduct, by leaving the injured Dorinda every thing he
possessed. Alas! it came too late, for she was no more.
The amiable Dorinda had not, before her death, the consolation of
knowing that such a change happened in her fortune, as in that case she
might have easily turned it to the advantage of the generous Clarissa.
This large fortune, therefore, for want of an heir, fell to the king;
but Providence so directed it, that the generous conduct of the orphan
to her benefactress reached the ears of the prince. "Ah! then," said he,
"she merits this inheritance! I renounce my right in her favour, and
shall be happy in being her father and friend."
This generous act of the king was applauded by the whole nation; and
Clarissa, having thus received so glorious a reward for her gratitude,
employed it in the maintenance of orphans, such as she herself had been.
It was the summit of her delight to inspire them with sentiments similar
to those she herself possessed.
[Illustration]
RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL THE
NOBLEST REVENGE.
[Illustration]
"I will be revenged of him, that I will, and make him heartily repent
it," said little Philip to himself with a countenance quite red with
anger. His mind was so engaged, that, as he walked along, he did not see
his dear friend Stephen, who happened at that instant to meet him, and
consequently heard what he had said.
"Who is that," said Stephen, "that you intend to be revenged on?"
Philip, as though awakened from a dream, stopped short, and, looking at
his friend, soon resumed the smile that was natural to his countenance.
"Ah!" said he, "come with me, my friend, and you shall see whom I will
be revenged on. I believe you remember my supple jack, a very pretty
little cane, which my father gave me. You see it is now all in pieces.
It was farmer Robinson's son, who lives in yonder thatched cottage, that
reduced it to this worthless state."
Stephen very coolly asked him what induced the farmer's son to break it.
"I was walking very peaceably along," replied Philip, "and was playing
with my cane, by twisting it round my body. By some accident or other
one of the two ends got out of my hand when I was opposite the gate just
by the wooden bridge, and where the little miscreant had put down a
pitcher full of water, which he was carrying home from the well. It so
happened that my cane, in springing, overset the pitcher, but did not
break it. He came up close to me, and began to call me names; when I
assured him I did not intend any harm,--what I had done was by accident,
and I was very sorry for it. Without paying any regard to what I said,
he instantly seized my supple jack, and twisted it here as you see; but
I will make him heartily repent it."
"To be sure," said Stephen, "he is a very wicked boy, and he is already
very properly punished for it, since nobody likes him, nor will do any
thing for him. He finds it very difficult to get any companion to play
with him, and, if he attempts to intrude himself into their company,
they will all instantly leave him. To consider this properly, I think,
should be sufficient revenge for you."
"All this is true," replied Philip, "but he has broken my cane. It was a
present from my papa, and a very pretty cane you know it was. My father
will perhaps ask me what has become of it; and, as he will suppose I
have carelessly lost his present, he will probably be angry with me; of
which this little saucy fellow will be the cause. I offered to fill his
pitcher again, having knocked it down by accident--I will be revenged."
"My dear friend," said Stephen, "I think you will act better in not
minding him, as your contempt will be the best punishment you can
inflict upon him. He is not upon a level with you, and you may be
assured that he will always be able to do more mischief to you than you
would choose to do him. And now I think of it, I will tell you what
happened to him not long since.
"Very unluckily for him, he chanced to see a bee hovering about a
flower, which he caught, and was going to pull off its wings, out of
sport, when the animal found means to sting him, and then flew in safety
to the hive. The pain put him into a most furious passion, and, like
you, he vowed to take a severe revenge. He accordingly procured a little
hazel-stick, and thrust it through the hole into the bee-hive, twisting
it about therein. By this means he killed several of the little animals;
but, in an instant, all the swarm issued out, and, falling upon him,
stung him in a thousand different places. You will naturally suppose
that he uttered the most piercing cries, and rolled upon the ground in
the excess of his agony. His father ran to him, but could not, without
the greatest difficulty, put the bees to flight, after having stung him
so severely that he was confined several days to his bed.
"Thus you see, he was not very successful in his pursuit of revenge. I
would advise you, therefore, to pass over his insult, and leave others
to punish him, without your taking any part of it. Besides, he is a
wicked boy, and much stronger than you are; so that your ability to
obtain revenge may be doubtful."
"I must own," replied Philip, "that your advice seems very good. So come
along with me, and I will go and tell my father the whole matter, and I
think he will not be angry with me. It is not the cane that I value on
any other consideration than that it was my father's present, and I
would wish to convince him that I take care of every thing he gives me."
He and his friend then went together, and Philip told his father what
had happened, who thanked Stephen for the good advice he had given his
son, and gave Philip another cane, exactly like the first.
A few days afterwards, Philip saw this ill-natured boy let fall, as he
was carrying home, a very heavy log of wood, which he could not get up
again. Philip ran to him, and replaced it on his shoulder.
Young Robinson was quite ashamed at the thought of having received this
kind of assistance from a youth he had treated so badly, and heartily
repented of his behaviour. Philip went home quite satisfied, to think
he had assisted one he did not love, and from pure motives of tenderness
and humanity. "This," said he, "is the noblest vengeance I could take,
in returning good for evil."
[Illustration]
GREY HAIRS MADE HAPPY.
[Illustration]
Opposite to the house where Charlotte's parents lived, was a little
opening, ornamented with a grass-plot, and overshaded by a venerable
tree, commanding an extensive view before it. On this delightful spot
Charlotte used frequently to sit in her little chair, while employed in
knitting stockings for her mamma.
As she was one day thus employed, she saw a poor old man advancing very
slowly towards her. His hair was as white as silver, and his back bent
with age; he supported himself by a stick, and seemed to walk with
great difficulty. "Poor man," said Charlotte, looking at him most
tenderly, "he seems to be very much in pain, and perhaps is very poor,
which are two dreadful evils!"
She also saw a number of boys, who were following close behind this poor
old man. They passed jokes upon his thread-bare coat, which had very
long skirts, and short sleeves, contrary to the fashion of those days.
His hat, which was quite rusty, did not escape their notice; his cheeks
were hollow, and his body thin. These wicked boys no sooner saw him,
than they all burst out a laughing. A stone lay in his way, which he did
not perceive, and over it he stumbled, and had like to have fallen. This
afforded them sport, and they laughed loudly; but it gave great pain to
the poor old man, who uttered a deep sigh.
"I once was as young as you are," said he to the boys, "but I did not
laugh at the infirmities of age as you do. The day will come in which
you will be old yourselves, and every day is bringing you forward to
that period. You will then be sensible of the impropriety of your
present conduct." Having thus spoken, he endeavoured to hobble on again,
and made a second stumble, when, in struggling to save himself from
falling, he dropped his cane, and down he fell. On this, the wicked boys
renewed their laugh, and highly enjoyed his misfortune.
Charlotte, who had seen every thing that had passed, could not help
pitying the old man's situation, and, therefore, putting down her
stockings on the chair, ran towards him, picked up the cane, and gave it
to him, and then taking hold of his other arm, as if she had been as
strong as a woman, advised him to lean upon her, and not mind any thing
the boys might say to him.
The poor old man, looking at her very earnestly, "Sweet child," said he,
"how good you are! This kindness makes me in a moment forget all the
ill-behaviour of those naughty boys. May you ever be happy!"--They then
walked on together; but the boys being probably made ashamed of their
conduct by the behaviour of Charlotte, followed the old man no farther.
While the boys were turning about, one of them fell down also, and all
the rest began laughing, as they had before done at the old man. He was
very angry with them on that account, and, as soon as he got up, ran
after his companions, pelting them with stones. He instantly became
convinced how unjust it was to laugh at the distress of another, and
formed a resolution, for the future, never to laugh at any person's
pain. He followed the old man he had been laughing at, though at some
distance, wishing for an opportunity to do him some favour, by way of
atonement for what he had done.
The good old man, in the mean time, by the kind assistance of Charlotte,
proceeded with slow, but sure steps. She asked him to stop and rest
himself a little, and told him that her house was that before him. "Pray
stay," said she, "and sit a little under that large tree. My parents
indeed are not at home, and therefore you will not be so well treated,
yet it will be a little rest to you."
The old man accepted Charlotte's offer. She brought him out a chair, and
then fetched some bread and cheese, and good small beer, which was all
the pretty maid could get at. He thanked her very kindly, and then
entered into conversation with her.
"I find, my dear," said he, "you have parents, I doubt not but you love
them, and they love you. They must be very happy, and may they always
continue to be so!"
"And pray, good old man," said Charlotte, "I suppose you have got
children."--"I had a son," replied he, "who lived in London, loved me
tenderly, and frequently came to see me; but, alas! he is now dead, and
I am left disconsolate. His widow, indeed, is rich; but she assumes the
character of a lady, and thinks it beneath her to inquire whether I be
dead or living, as she does not wish it to be known that her husband's
father is a peasant."
Charlotte was much affected, and could hardly believe that such cruel
people existed. "Ah! certain I am," said she, "that my dear mother would
not behave so cruelly." He then rose and thanked Charlotte with a
blessing; but she was determined not to leave him, till she had
accompanied him a little way farther.
As they walked on, they saw the little boy who had been following them;
for he ran on some way before, and was then sitting on the grass. When
they looked upon him, he cast his eyes downwards, got up after they had
passed, and followed them again. Charlotte observed him, but said
nothing.
She asked the old man if he lived alone; "No, little lady," answered he,
"I have a cottage on the other side of that mead, seated in the middle
of a little garden, with an orchard and a small field. An old neighbour,
whose cottage fell down through age, lives with me, and cultivates my
ground. He is an honest man, and I am perfectly easy in his society; but
the loss of my son still bears hard upon me, nor have I the happiness to
see any of his children, who must by this time have forgotten me."
These complaints touched the heart of Charlotte, who told him, that she
and her mother would come and see him. The sensibility and kindness of
this little girl served only to aggravate his grief, by bringing to his
mind the loss he had sustained in his son. Tears came in his eyes, when
he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe them; and, instead of again
putting it into his pocket, in the agitation of his mind, it slipped
aside, and fell unnoticed by him or Charlotte.
The little boy, who followed them, saw the handkerchief fall, ran to
pick it up, and gave it the old man, saying, "Here, good old man, you
dropped your handkerchief, and here it is."--"Thank you, heartily, my
little friend," said the old man. "Here is a good natured lad, who does
not ridicule old age, nor laugh at the afflictions that attend it. You
will certainly become an honest man. Come both of you to my habitation,
and I will give you some milk." They had no sooner reached the old man's
cottage, than he brought out some milk, and the best bread he had,
which, though coarse, was good. They all sat down upon the grass, and
made a comfortable repast. However, Charlotte began to be afraid her
parents might come home, and be uneasy at her absence; and the little
boy was sorry to go, but was sadly afraid, should he stay, of being
scolded by his mother.
"This mother of yours," said the old man, "must be very cross to scold
you."--"She is not always so," replied the boy; "but though she loves
me, she makes me fear her."--"And your father?"--"Oh, I scarcely knew
him, he having been dead these four years."--"Dead these four years!"
interrupted the old man, and fixing his eyes attentively on the boy. "Is
it possible that I have some recollection of your features? Can it be
little Francis?"--"Yes, yes, Francis is my name."
For a few moments the old man stood motionless, and, with an altered
voice, his eyes swimming with tears, cried out, "My dear Francis, you do
not recollect your grandfather! Embrace me! you have got the very
features of my son! My dearest child, you were not thinking of me! My
son affectionately loved me, and his son will love me also. My old age
will not be so miserable as I expected, and the evening of my life will
not pass without some joy. I shall depart in peace!--But I forget that
by detaining you, I may expose you to your mother's anger. Go, my dear
child, for I do not wish that my joy should cost you tears. Go, love
your mother, and obey her commands, even though you should not come and
see me. Come and see me if you can; but do not disobey or tell a story
on any account."
He then turned to Charlotte, and said, though he then did not wish her
to stay, for fear of offending her parents, yet he hoped she would come
again. He then dismissed them, giving them a hearty blessing, and the
two children walked away hand in hand. Charlotte got home safe before
her parents, who were not long after her, when she told them every
thing that had passed, which furnished an agreeable conversation for the
evening.
The next day they all went to see the good old man, and afterwards
frequently repeated their visits. Francis also came to see his
grandfather, who was rejoiced to hear him speak, and to receive his
affectionate caresses. Francis, on his side, was equally rejoiced,
excepting when he did not meet with Charlotte, for then he went home
sorrowful and sad.
The nearer Francis arrived to manhood, the more his affections for
Charlotte increased; and accordingly, when he was old enough to marry,
he would think of no other woman, though she was not rich. The old man
lived to see them married and happy, and then finally closed his eyes
in peace.
[Illustration]
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| In the Contents, page 113 for the chapter titled "Alfred and |
| Dorinda" has been changed to 118. |
| |
| Page 20, double closing quotation mark has been added to the |
| end of the chapter--ruin." |
| |
| Page 25, closing quotation mark has been removed--munched |
| alive. |
| |
| Page 134, "about gardening. but" has been changed to "about |
| gardening; but" |
| |
| Page 159 punctuation after "contentedly" has been |
| interpreted as a comma |
| |
| Page 215 "Ah!"' said he" has been changed to "Ah!" said he" |
| |
| Page 223 "down her cheeks The" has been changed to "down her |
| cheeks. The" |
| |
| Page 246 "treason, and been" has been changed to "reason, |
| and been" |
| |
| Page 266 "entored into conversation" has been changed to |
| "entered into conversation" |
| |
| Page 269 "and hear it is" has been changed to "and here it |
| is" |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
End of Project Gutenberg's The Looking-Glass for the Mind, by M. Berquin