It was a beautiful morning in the month of April, when Mr. and Mrs.
Selwhyn arose somewhat earlier than their usual hour, on account of some
expected visitors who had been invited on that day to Heathwood Park,
for the purpose of celebrating the birth-day of little Emma, who, being
an only child, was made a great pet of, and who had now completed her
ninth year. She was, indeed, a most promising little creature of her
age: but why was she so?--because she was good, and kind, obedient to
her parents, and attentive to all the instructions of her teachers:
therefore she might truly be called promising; because, my young
readers, if children do well at this early age, they promise to do
better when they grow older; and thus was Miss Emma Selwhyn at nine
years of age considered a very promising young lady by all her numerous
friends and acquaintance. It is no wonder, therefore, that her birth-day
was commemorated with peculiar pleasure by her fond parents, because
they hoped with the increase of years she would also increase in
learning, humility, and virtue.
With this pleasing anticipation, Mrs. Selwhyn requested her husband to
favour her with half an hour's conversation, as they walked towards the
summer-house in the garden, which breathed the delicious fragrance of
the opening flowers!
"I have been thinking, my love," said Mrs. Selwhyn, "if you have no
objection, of trying a little stratagem with Emma. As it is her
birth-day, I should wish to know whether thankfulness for her own
blessings would induce her to perform any act of kindness towards others
on this particular day, that she may with more pleasure remember it on
the next."
"With all my heart," rejoined Mr. Selwhyn. "Let us try the experiment,
by presenting her, instead of personal ornaments as formerly, with a
purse of money, and we shall then see what she will do with it."
"I shall be much disappointed if she does not make use of it in the way
I should wish," said Mrs. Selwhyn, drawing out of her pocket a neat red
morocco purse, containing two half-crown pieces, to which Mr. Selwhyn
added two more, making in the whole, the sum of ten shillings. Now this
was certainly a very large sum for a little girl of Emma's age to be
trusted with: for some children spend their money very foolishly, and
throw it away on mere trifles. However, we shall see what use Emma will
make of it, and I hope it will be a good one; for money is of little or
no value, unless it be appropriated to good purposes.
"Now," said Mr. Selwhyn, "we will return; as by this time, I dare say,
Emma is ready for her breakfast, and will no doubt be delighted with the
unexpected present we are going to make her."
"Oh, you cannot think," cried Mrs. Selwhyn, "how careful she is of her
money! I gave her two new shillings, and I should not be at all
surprised if she has one of them laid by."
Mrs. Selwhyn now stopped a few moments, intending to gather some
flowers, but suddenly directing her attention towards the summer-house,
she perceived her amiable daughter in close conversation with a poor
little girl, who, though almost clothed in rags, was yet very clean and
modest in her appearance. She had no bonnet on her head, but a large
basket, plentifully supplied with bunches of primroses; and though she
had a smiling countenance, full of good-humour and sweetness, yet her
rosy cheeks were wet with tears, which she brushed away with hands that
were sun-burnt, but not dirty.
"Poor little girl!" cried Emma, "I am very sorry for you, indeed; and I
am sure, if my mamma were here, she would let me buy a great many of
your primroses. I would buy all you have got in your basket if I could
afford it." With these words Emma, taking a bundle of primroses out of
the basket gave the little girl a penny, exclaiming, "how sorry I am
that I have no more than this penny; but if I had, you should be welcome
to it, indeed you should."
"Bless you, Miss," cried the primrose girl; "it is more than anybody
else has given me; and God will love you, because you are not proud, and
are not ashamed of speaking to a poor girl like me!"
"Oh dear, I should be very wicked if I were ashamed of speaking to poor
people," said Emma. "Papa and mamma would be much displeased with me;
and they are so kind, that I should be sorry to do any thing to excite
their displeasure."
The primrose girl now placed her basket on her head, and putting her
penny into one corner of it, sighed mournfully as she bade Emma adieu,
saying she would buy a penny roll, and carry it home to her sick mother.
"Oh dear," cried Emma, "if you have got a sick mother, I am sure my
mamma would do something for her, for she is very kind to every body
that is ill. Where do you live, little girl? pray tell me, and I will
come and see you, if mamma pleases, and bring you something. I have got
a nice basket, which will hold a great deal, you cannot think how much!
This is my birth-day, and what do you think I will do? I will save all
my plum-cake, and you shall have it for your sick mother, indeed you
shall."
The primrose girl dropt a low curtsey, and informing her young
benefactress that her mother lived by the side of the old barn in the
forest, she tripped away in pursuit of more customers, and with a joyful
heart, that she had already got one penny towards the homely meal which
awaited her when the labours of the day should be over; while little
Emma awaited a very different scene in the splendid breakfast parlour in
the family mansion of Heathwood Park. Scarcely, however, could the
transports of Mr. and Mrs. Selwhyn be concealed in the presence of their
beloved child, the discovery of whose benevolent disposition towards
the poor primrose girl had rendered her doubly dear to them.
"Well," cried Mrs. Selwhyn, "what do you think of Emma now?"
"Think!" exclaimed Mr. Selwhyn, "why I am of opinion that the red
morocco purse cannot be better bestowed than on one who knows so well
how to make a proper use of it. Here she comes, with cheeks as fresh as
the blooming rose! But pray do not say a word of the primrose girl."
Emma now came into the room, and paid her respects to her papa and
mamma, who kissing her ruby lips, reminded her that it was her
birth-day.
"You are nine years old to-day, Emma," said Mrs. Selwhyn.
"Yes, mamma; and nine more will make eighteen, and I shall be a great
woman, if I live till then; and my apple-tree, that papa said he planted
the day I was born, will be a great tree, with plenty of apples on it;
and you know, as it is mine, I may, when I am grown a woman, do what I
like with it."
"Oh, certainly," exclaimed Mr. Selwhyn; "but pray, Emma, in that case,
what would you do with it? I should like to know."
"Why, papa, I would gather all the apples I could find on it and make
them all into apple-dumplings, for poor little girls who had sick
mothers, and could not afford to buy any."
Mrs. Selwhyn could no longer refrain from pressing her darling girl to
her maternal bosom, for at this moment a mother's heart was quite full;
while Mr. Selwhyn, equally delighted, affectionately kissed his beloved
daughter.
"Mrs. Selwhyn," said he, "I believe it is high time to produce the red
morocco purse; it is really growing quite troublesome in my pocket."
"Then suppose you give it without further delay," rejoined Mrs. Selwhyn.
"Emma, your papa is going to present you with a birth-day gift; a
little red morocco purse."
"With money in it?" inquired Emma.
"Yes, my love: a purse is of little use without there is money it."
Emma was silent, but her blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes evinced the
secret pleasure which this intelligence conveyed.
Mr. Selwhyn, while presenting his daughter with her birth-day gift,
said, "now Emma, place this carefully in your pocket; and though you
need not now examine its contents, remember they are entirely your own,
and you are at liberty to make use of them agreeable to your own
inclinations."
"What, papa, may I do what I like with the money?" inquired Emma,
regarding the purse with a wishful eye, while she deposited it carefully
in her pocket.
"I have given it you for that purpose," answered her fond parent; "only
remember, that if you live till next birth-day, you must inform me in
what manner you disposed of it." Mr. Selwhyn then retired to his study,
and his good lady was left alone with her daughter.
"I will spare you from your studies, this morning, my dear Emma," said
Mrs. Selwhyn, "for we have company to dinner, because it is your
birth-day. But look! as I live, here is Susannah, your old nurse,
hobbling over the stile. She is coming, I suppose, to wish you many
happy returns of this day. She was a kind nurse to you, Emma, when you
was a helpless little baby, and could not take care of yourself; so I
will leave you to make her as welcome as you please, while I attend to
my domestic concerns."
Susannah had by this time arrived at the garden-gate, and Emma with a
joyful countenance came out to meet her.
"How kind it is of you, dear Susannah," cried she, "to come and see me
on my birth-day! But you have walked a great way, and must be extremely
fatigued; pray sit down, and rest yourself."
Susannah seated herself in the first chair she could find, for she was
very aged and infirm; and when Emma had taken off her cloak, and laid
aside her walking-stick, she thus addressed her:
"There, Susannah, now you are seated, and may take as much rest as you
please, and I will wait on you, and bring you any thing you may want:
for mamma told me you was a kind nurse to me, when I was a little baby
and could not help myself, so now I have got strength, I will help you,
Susannah. Indeed, I should be very naughty if I did not. Will you take
any refreshment after your walk? Suppose I fetch you some nice cake, and
a little cream?"
"Heaven preserve and bless you, my darling!" cried Susannah; "there is
no occasion for that: I see you, and I am happy; but I could not rest
without coming to bless you on your birth-day! You was a tender lamb,
and you are a tender lamb now. Heaven spare you to see many such days!
But I shall never live to see them--I am growing old and feeble."
"Ah! but, Susannah, you do not know what I have got for you!" said Emma,
throwing her arms affectionately round Susannah's neck, while she slyly
drew from her pocket the red morocco purse. "Do you know, papa has given
me this pretty purse full of money, and says, because it is my
birth-day, I may do whatever I like with it. Let us see how much money
there is in it." The delighted Emma now threw the whole contents on the
table, exclaiming, "there, Susannah, four half-crown pieces, I declare!
Only think what a kind papa I have got, and what a deal of money he has
given me! Now, Susannah, I will give you two of these pieces, because
you are my nurse, and the other two I will keep for somebody. Oh dear,
what a charming thing it is to have plenty of money, to do whatever one
likes with! I am so happy you cannot think, because I know somebody I am
going to see, who will be quite happy too! It is a great pleasure to
make other people happy, when we can do it so pleasantly, is it not,
Susannah?"
"My dear child," rejoined Susannah, "I cannot accept of your kindness
without the consent of your parents;" and with this remark she returned
the money, much to the mortification of Emma; who, however, after many
entreaties, at last prevailed on her visitor to put the two half-crowns
into her pocket.
The maid now came in, to tell Emma that her mamma desired she would go
and be dressed, and with an invitation to old Susannah that she would go
into the housekeeper's room, where she would be made quite comfortable.
Emma accordingly left Susannah, with a fresh kiss, and a fresh blessing
from the affectionate nurse.
On being afterwards introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Selwhyn, from whom, on
that day, she always received her accustomed present of a new gown and a
guinea, Susannah pulled out the two half-crowns which Emma had given
her, and while she dwelt with artless simplicity on the kindness and
generosity of the young donor, she declared she could not receive her
gift without consulting them on the occasion.
Mr. and Mrs. Selwhyn exchanged looks of evident satisfaction.
"The red morocco purse will not disgrace its owner," said Mr. Selwhyn.
"You must certainly accept of Emma's present; so put the two
half-crowns into your pocket, for the money was given to her with an
intimation that she might use it in any manner she liked best; and I am
very well satisfied that she knows so well how to appreciate its value."
Before we proceed further, permit me to ask my young readers if it was
not very praiseworthy and amiable in Emma, to present her poor old nurse
with this mark of her bounty and affection? I am sure you will agree
with me; and if you have had a poor old nurse who has taken care of you
in your infancy, I have no doubt but you will be happy to imitate the
example of Miss Emma Selwhyn.
At half-past three o'clock two carriages arrived at Heathwood Park, and
a very happy and agreeable party of friends assembled together. Indeed,
it was truly delightful to see with what marked attention little Emma
was treated by all her numerous friends and acquaintances, several of
whom had brought her some very pretty birth-day presents. As she was
blessed with an excellent memory, her papa desired her to recite the
"Beggar's Petition," and it was very pretty to hear her say,
"Pity the Sorrows of a poor old man,
"Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,
"Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span:
"Oh, give relief, and Heaven will bless your store!"
When she had finished she received the praises of every body present;
which would not have been the case had she not paid due attention to her
learning, by which she retained all she had read, and could with ease
repeat all her lessons on that account.
A very large and beautiful plum-cake was now put on the table; but
though Emma was presented by her mamma with a double allowance, in
honour of her birth-day, she contrived to eat but a small portion of it
herself, reserving the rest for the benevolent purpose she had
intended: for the Primrose Girl and her sick mother were not forgotten,
as will appear in the sequel of our tale.
The birth-day having closed in the most agreeable manner, Emma arose
very early the next morning, and, taking the basket under her arm, she
first of all deposited her large piece of plum-cake; she then ran down
stairs to Betty the cook, whom she addressed in the following manner:
"Good morning, Betty; the weather is extremely pleasant; and as I am
going out for a walk, who knows but I may happen to meet with somebody
who is very poor, and very hungry? I shall take it very kind, Betty, if
you will put into my basket a little stale bread, or a little meat, or
any thing else you may have at hand. I shall be so much obliged to you;
and so, I dare say, will somebody else; for you know, Betty, it is a sad
thing to be hungry and poor!"
Betty lost not a moment in complying with Emma's request; but filled
the little basket as full as she could with cold victuals and other
trifling things: for not only Betty, but all the rest of the servants at
Heathwood Park, were very fond of their young mistress, whose amiable
disposition and gentle manners had rendered her a very deserving
favourite amongst them. And this, my reader will allow, was a very
commendable trait in Emma's character; for we must not look with
contempt upon servants because they are our inferiors; for they are not
only useful to us, but they are also our fellow-creatures, and sometimes
prove our friends, and there is nothing more unbecoming in young persons
than to speak uncivilly to those who are employed in their service. I
hope you will remember this, my young reader, and never pout, or look
cross at persons who do their duty towards you, in that humble station
in which it has pleased Providence to place them.
Emma now pursued her way to the forest, with the basket hanging on her
arm; but when she arrived there she was puzzled to find her way to the
barn. At last she met with an old woman who was going the same way.
"Pray, Goody," cried Emma, "can you tell me where I can find an old
barn? I shall be so much obliged to you!"
Now some old women are apt to be very inquisitive about what does not
concern them, yet they are by no means to be answered rudely on that
account.
"Why, yes, pretty miss," cried the old woman, dropping a low curtsey
(for she soon saw that it was Miss Emma Selwhyn she was talking to), "it
is close by; and, as I am going that way, I will shew you: but pray,
miss, may I be so bold as to inquire who you may want? for, alack-a-day!
nobody lives there but Margery Blackbourne, the woodman's widow, and her
daughter Fanny, who is nothing better than a poor primrose girl!"
"A poor primrose girl!" cried Emma. "Ah, Goody, you are right, it is
that poor child I am going to see; and though she is nothing better than
a primrose girl, yet I like her very much, because she is good to her
mother who is sick; besides Fanny is altogether the nicest little girl I
ever saw!"
"Fanny is much obliged to you, I am sure," rejoined the old woman; "and
indeed, I cannot say but the poor thing has a hard life of it. To be
forced to cry primroses from morning till night is no easy matter, when
one is both hungry and thirsty. But there is her mother, Miss; do not
you see her by yonder stile, picking up some dry sticks to light her
fire, while Fanny, I suppose, is gone to try if she can get her a morsel
of bread."
Emma did not wait to listen to any further conversation of the old
woman, but she did not forget to reward her for the trouble she had
taken in shewing her the way, and slipping six-pence into her hand,
wished her good morning. She then went directly to the door of the poor
primrose girl, and found, to her no small satisfaction, that she had not
yet set out on her accustomed ramble, but was busily employed in boiling
a little pottage, over a very little fire for her mother's breakfast.
Emma immediately accosted her thus:
"Ah, little Fanny, (for I am told that is your name) how do you do? and
how is your mother? I promised I would come, and I am so happy, you
cannot think, to find you at home."
"Miss, will you be so good as to sit down?" asked the primrose girl;
"here is mother's great chair; it is the best we have got."
"I do not mind where I sit, thank you, Fanny," said Emma, seating
herself on a little wooden stool before the fire, and placing her
basket on the table; "but I must not stay long, because my papa and
mamma do not know where I am; so make haste, Fanny, if you please, and
empty the basket which I have brought with me. I told you it would hold
a great deal, and it is quite full."
The primrose girl did as she was desired; but when she saw the plum-cake
at the bottom of the basket, the poor little creature was so overcome,
that she burst into a flood of tears, and turning to Emma, clasped her
little sun-burnt hands together with heartfelt gratitude!
"Oh, Miss!" she exclaimed, "this is too much for poor people like us to
expect. That you should save your plum-cake on purpose that we might
share it is so kind, so very kind, that indeed my heart is quite full,
and so will mammy's be, when she sees you."
At this instant poor Margery came in: but could scarcely believe her
senses, when she saw Miss Emma Selwhyn, the heiress of the rich Squire
of Heathwood Park, sitting on the wooden stool before the fire, in
familiar conversation with her daughter Fanny!
Emma very soon explained the nature of her errand, and drawing out her
red morocco purse, presented Margery with the two remaining half-crowns
that were in it. "There," cried she, "take this money; it will buy you
some victuals when you are hungry. It is entirely my own, for my papa
gave it to me to do whatever I liked with it, so I shall now go home
quite contented and happy; and one day or other, when I am grown a great
woman, I will have a garden full of primroses, and that will always make
me remember Fanny."
With this observation Emma retired, taking with her the blessings of the
poor widow, and the prayers of a fatherless child! and these, my young
reader, are of great importance, and should never be lightly esteemed.
They will make you happy when you have nothing else to make you so,
because you cannot obtain these blessings except by the performance of
kind and benevolent actions.
Emma, on returning from her visit of mercy, was rewarded by the warm
approbation and fond endearments of her beloved parents; and I am happy
to add, that she lived to witness the return of many joyful birth-days,
on which occasions the red morocco purse was always replenished with the
sum of four half crowns, with the same permission that she had hitherto
obtained from her papa. Two of these pieces were regularly bestowed on
Susannah her old nurse; and as there yet remained two at the bottom of
the purse, my reader will probably guess what Emma did with them. They
were, in fact, reserved as a present for her young favourite primrose
girl, Fanny of the forest, who ever gratefully remembered the fortunate
hour when she first beheld little Emma, to whom she sold a penny bunch
of primroses on the morning of her birth-day.