laughed at the loss of one gooseberry; she then covered the basket over
nicely with leaves, and took out another, and, wishing to put Willy
into good spirits again, said, "This is to be filled with cherries, and
now you may help me better still, for you can easily climb up this low
tree and gather the cherries which I cannot reach from the ground."
Willy knew how to climb, and Anna held her apron spread out, and stood
right under Willy that he might throw the bunches of cherries into it.
The cherries being all ripe, Willy had not the trouble of examining
them; and, delighted with scrambling from one branch of the tree to
another, he was soon as merry as ever. Willy had not even wished to
eat a gooseberry; he was so anxious to prove to Anna that he could be
trusted, that he thought of nothing else; but now these cherries looked
so plump and so red, that he longed to taste them, and he was beginning
to forget the affront he had received from Anna; but he did not give
way to the temptation, for he had learnt to command himself; but he
hung two of the cherries over each of his ears, calling them ear-rings,
and threw down some very fine ones for Anna to put on her ears, saying,
"That is not eating the cherries, you know," and they laughed heartily
at each other's fine ear-rings. Who should come into the garden just
then but their two Mammas, and the landlady gave them leave to eat some
of the cherries they had gathered. Oh, how glad they were, the cherries
were so sweet and nice, and they had longed for them so much!
They then all went to the strawberry bed, and Willy was obliged to
take care that what he gathered was ripe, for the strawberries which
looked quite red on one side were often white on the other. "I wonder
both sides don't ripen at the same time," said he.
"Why, it is the sun ripens them," answered Anna, "and there is only one
sun to shine on one side of the strawberries."
"Yes," said Willy; "but though there is only one sun, it moves about,
and shines on one side of the strawberries in the morning, and on the
other side in the afternoon, so they might be both ripe together."
"So they will, in time," said Anna; "but the sun cannot get at them
under these leaves, either morning or afternoon."
"I think," said Willy, jokingly, "that these strawberries are cunning
little things, and hide themselves as much as they can under the leaves
for fear of being gathered; for if I lift up a leaf, I always find a
strawberry underneath."
"Let them stay there till both sides are ripe," said Anna, "and that
they will be in a few days if you leave them alone, for they don't want
much sun. Strawberries want more water than heat."
"What a deal you know about fruit and gardens," said Willy.
"That is because I live in the country, and am used to gardening."
"Well," observed Willy, "it is like resting to pick strawberries
after gathering cherries. I declare my neck quite ached with looking
up to the cherries, and now I have nothing but looking down for the
strawberries."
THE ARBORETUM.
Willy was now called away to accompany his parents to Mr. Joseph
Strutt's. He received them with kindness, and Willy thought him very
good-natured, for he took him over all the rooms and showed all his
curiosities. There were birds stuffed, and shells and paintings; in a
word, so many things, and they filled so many rooms, that Mr. J. Strutt
had scarcely any room left for himself. They then begged that he would
show his celebrated garden.
"It is not my garden," said he, "I have given it away to the good
people of this town, but I will go and show it you with pleasure; but
let us go in the evening, the weather will be cooler, and you will see
a greater number of people walking."
This was agreed upon, and in the evening Mr. J. Strutt called upon them
at the inn, and accompanied them to the Arboretum. When they came to
the gate, Willy thought it looked more like a park than a garden gate.
There were a number of people walking about, and when they met Mr. J.
Strutt, you could tell by their countenances that they knew him, they
looked so much pleased, and so respectful, but they did not bow or
courtesy to him, because they knew that he did not like to be publicly
noticed. He had told them, once for all, 'If you make a fuss about me
I shall think myself troublesome, and shall not walk in your garden so
often as if you let me alone, and take no more notice of me than of
any other person.' As they were walking about, Willy observed a family
passing by, one of whom was a blind woman; this put him in mind of the
market girl's mother; then there was a little boy and girl with her,
who might be about the age of her youngest children, and an old woman,
who might be their grandmother. But there was no market girl with
them, and Willy thought it could not be them, they lived so far off.
Some time afterwards they passed by again, and then a young woman had
joined them, but she was so much better dressed that Willy thought it
could not be her. However, he peeped under her close straw bonnet, and
found that it really was his old friend, and he cried out, "Oh! Mamma,
there they are, all of them;" then, taking hold of the market girl by
the hand, he said, "Don't you know me?"
"Oh! how do you do? I am very glad to see you," said she; "I thought I
should meet you here." Then, seeing Mr. Strutt, she added, "How lucky
you are! there is Mr. Joseph Strutt himself giving his arm to your
Mamma. So, then, you have made his acquaintance.
"But," added she, "I must make you acquainted with my little brother
and sister too.
"Did not I tell you," said she, addressing them, "that I met with a
nice little boy on the railroad yesterday; well, this is he."
The children were at first very shy, and only answered yes. Then Willy
and his parents made acquaintance with the poor blind woman and her
old mother, whom the children called Granny.
Willy's Mamma talked a good deal to these two women, and told Mr. J.
Strutt all about them.
"Is Mr. Joseph Strutt here?" asked the blind woman. "Oh, if I could
but see him! Betsey," whispered she to her little daughter, "lead me
towards him, that I may hear him speak." Mr. J. Strutt, who was nearer
to her than she thought, took her by the hand, saying, "With God's
blessing you shall see me one of these days, when your eyes are cured;
and I shall go and see you when you come to our hospital, and I shall
take care that you are comfortable."
Willy then went to play on the grass with the two children, and when
they were tired they sat down on a soft smooth bank under the shade
of some spreading trees, which was very pleasant, for they had made
themselves hot with running to catch each other. Then Willy asked them
how they came to be here, when they lived so far off?
"Oh! it's by the railroad," said Johnny: "you must know that every
Sunday that Father can make a holiday, he takes us all to see Granny,
who lives at Derby. Did not Martha tell you yesterday that we were to
come to-day? for though it is not Sunday, we are come, because Father
had some business to do at Derby."
"She did not tell me," said Willy, "for I thought I never should see
you in all my life, and I wanted sadly to see you, because your sister
Martha told me so much about you."
"That's very good of you," said Johnny. "Well, what was I telling you?
Oh, it was about coming to see Granny. You must know that every time
we come she makes a large cake for us to take home. And one day it
happened that I went to market to help Martha, because she had so many
baskets to carry; and then, instead of going home with her, I staid to
sleep with Granny, and I saw her make the cake. You cannot think how
funny it was; she slapped it over and over again; she said, the more it
was beaten, the better it would be; and very nice it was after it had
been baked in the oven."
"Oh! it was so nice," cried little Betsey; "I remember it, Johnny, as
well as you."
CHILDREN'S GAMBOLS.
The children soon left off talking, to go and play. Betsey showed them
a spot where daisies were growing very thick in the grass, and they
all went to gather some to make daisy chains. Betsey was the cleverest
in making these garlands, for little girls who go to a sewing school,
and learn to sew, and hem, and stitch, and thread needles, can split
the stalk of a daisy and fasten the end into it much better than a boy
can, who is used only to cut sticks, and play at ball and marbles; but
the boys could gather daisies quite as well and as quickly as Betsey.
So, in order to get on with their chains as fast as they could, it
was settled that the boys should gather the flowers, whilst Betsey
sat still and made them into chains. Then, when the chains were all
finished, the two boys climbed up the trees and hung them in festoons
from bough to bough, and Betsey, who had been so long sitting still,
jumped about for joy seeing them look so beautiful. They then fetched
their parents to show them how prettily they had ornamented the trees,
and Martha explained it all to her blind mother, who could not see the
beautiful wreaths of daisies; and having been praised for their work,
the children began to consider what they should do next.
"I wish I had my hoop," said Betsey; "and I wish I had my top," said
Johnny; "and I wish I had my ball," cried Willy, "my poor pretty ball!"
"Why, what has happened to it?" inquired the children.
Willy then told the whole story of his ball, and ended by saying, "how
nicely we should have played with it together!"
Whilst they were standing under their garlands of daisies, consulting
together what game they should next play at, a large new ball fell down
amongst them. It seemed to come from the skies. They all stared with
astonishment; then Willy picked it up, and, as he stooped down, he saw
a man's legs behind a bush, and he knew by the chequered trowsers on
them that the man was his Papa. Papa wanted to hide himself to make
the children wonder where the ball came from, but Willy ran after him
and caught him, and then jumped up and kissed him to thank him for the
present.
"Why, how did you find me out?" asked his father.
"Oh! because the bush was not so thick of leaves at the bottom as at
top; so in stooping down I had a peep of you through the branches."
"Well," cried Betsey, "I really thought the ball fell from the skies."
"How could you be such a goose?" cried Willy. "Balls never fall from
the sky, unless they are thrown up first, and then to be sure they must
come down again. But now, let us play with it."
So they tossed the ball from Johnny to Betsey, and from Betsey to
Willy, and from Willy to Johnny again. After the ball had gone round
for some time, Betsey said, "I wish there were a few more of us to
catch the ball, for then we should have much better fun."
"You must divide yourself into five," said Willy, "and then we should
have four more to catch the ball."
"What nonsense you are talking," cried Betsey.
"Don't you know the funny verses about your name?" asked Willy.
"No, indeed; do tell me them."
Willy then, with as grave a face as he could put on, repeated the
following lines:--
"'Elizabeth, Elsebeth, Bet, Betsey, and Bess,
All went together to seek a bird's nest:
When they found it, there were five eggs in;
They each took one, and left four in.'"
"Do you call those pretty verses?" said Betsey: "why, they are quite
nonsensical."
"But they are true," said Willy, "only you don't see the fun of them.
It's like a riddle; you told me you were sometimes called Elizabeth,
and at other times Betsey, and are you never called Bet and Bess?"
"Yes, sometimes," said she; "but not Elsebeth. I never even heard that
name."
"But it is your name though," replied Willy, "for all that."
"Well then, suppose that you went one day to rob a bird's nest?"
"But, indeed, I would do no such thing," retorted Betsey, quite
offended.
"Don't be angry," cried he; "I only said _suppose_."
"But I wonder you should _suppose_ I could steal any thing," cried the
indignant Betsey.
"I only said so to make you understand the fun."
"Pho, pho, nonsense," cried Johnny, "it's only make-believe. Well, let
me be Betsey, and then you may suppose what you please."
But Betsey did not seem to like to give up her name to Johnny; the
truth is, that when she found that her eldest brother did not think
there was any harm in _supposing_, she allowed Willy to suppose in her
own name.
"Well then," continued Willy, "remember that you went alone to the nest
and took out an egg."
"Oh yes," said Betsey, "_I by myself, I_."
"Then," said Willy, "who was it took out the egg?"
"Why, I, Betsey, to be sure."
"And did not Elizabeth take out one also?"
"Yes, because that's me too."
"And did not Elsebeth, Betsey, and Bess also take out eggs?"
"Yes, but that's all me."
"Well then," continued Willy, "were not five eggs taken out of the
nest, and four left in?"
Betsey laughed; she understood the joke pretty well, though she could
not explain it. But Johnny said, there was only one person who went to
the nest, but she had five names, so when she had taken out one egg
there were four left in.
The three children then went to take a stroll on the gravel walks, and
see if they could not meet any friends, but they saw nobody they knew,
because, as they did not live at Derby, they did not know many people
there.
"If it had been Sunday we should have seen many," said Betsey, "but
the people on working days are tired after working at the factory,
or have other things to do at home. Oh! if you had been here last
Easter Monday, what would you have said? Why, there were hundreds and
thousands! Were there not, Johnny?"
"Yes," replied Johnny, "for as it was holiday time, there came trains
from Nottingham and Leicester and other factory towns, ever so far off.
You may think what a treat it is to the children, who often come with
their parents; and the trains make them pay very little when there is
so many of them, and so both old and young are so glad and so happy.
First, you know, they have a long ride in the train, and then such fine
gardens to amuse themselves in, and large rooms where they may eat
the dinner they bring with them, or drink tea, just as they choose;
they have hot water and tea-things for nothing; and if they don't
bring tea with them, they may get it there, and bread and butter too,
for three-pence. But they cannot buy any beer or spirits; that is not
allowed, for fear they should get tipsy, for that would be doing wrong.
"Then in the Easter holidays there comes a fiddler, and the people all
dance, that is, all those who like it, and know how. There is a large
flat piece of grass like a bowling green, on purpose for them to dance
on."
THE FACTORY.
"Pray," said Willy, going on with the conversation, "tell me something
about the factories, where you say so many of these people work."
Johnny replied, "that as he worked in a farm, and not in a factory, he
did not understand much about it; but," said he, "I once went to see
the mills at Milford, a few miles from Derby, for I have an uncle who
works there, and one day he took me all over them, and showed me every
thing."
"Are mills and a factory the same thing?" asked Willy.
"I know no difference," replied Johnny.
"And what did you see there?"
"All sorts of things. There were great wheels and little wheels, and
spindles which turned round like wheels, and large rollers that turned
round too, and many other things; and uncle told me it was all called
machinery."
"But what do they do with all this machinery?"
"They spin cotton wool; but do you know what cotton wool is?"
"Yes," replied Willy, "it is what mamma puts to my ear to keep it warm
when I have the ear-ache; but that is not at all like thread. I am sure
you could never thread a needle with it."
"No, not before it is spun; but then it makes all the nice
cotton-thread that is wound on little bobbins to sew with."
"Then, I dare say," said Willy, "that the wheels and spindles at the
factory are like grandmamma's spinning-wheel; she turns the wheel with
her foot, and the wheel turns the spindle, and she twists the flax with
her fingers; for she does not spin cotton, but flax."
"That is much the same," observed Betsey, "only flax makes stronger
thread; we all know the difference at school well enough. When we sew
with cotton it often breaks, but thread made of flax very seldom does."
"Then, if I was a girl, I would always sew with flax," said Willy.
"When you are at school you must sew with what the school-mistress
gives you, and that is almost always cotton, because it is cheaper."
"Now," continued Johnny, "you know that your grandmother's
spinning-wheel twists only one thread; but at the factory there are
hundreds and thousands of threads all twisting at once."
"What a number of people there must be to twist so many threads!"
"Oh no," said Johnny, "it is the spindles that twist the threads."
"But, then, who turns the spindles? I suppose men must do that?"
"No such thing; all the spindles are all turned by one single thing."
Willy stared with surprise; but Johnny went on: "Yes, not only all the
spindles, but everything that turns in the factory, is made to turn by
one great wheel, which is as big as a house."
"But what is it turns this great wheel? it cannot be a man nor a
horse, for they would not be strong enough. Oh! I dare say it is a
steam-engine, for that is the strongest thing I ever heard of."
"Well, it is true," returned Johnny, "that the great wheel is turned by
a steam-engine in most factories, but in that I saw it was something
else, which cost less, and did as well."
"What can that be?" said Willy.
"Why, it is a stream of water, which is higher than the great wheel,
and so it falls down upon it, and pushes it round."
"That is just like the wheel at the miller's, which grinds corn," said
Willy; "it is called a water-wheel, because the water turns it; but,"
added he, laughing, "when the great wheel of a factory is turned by a
steam-engine, it is turned by water too."
"How do you make that out?"
"Why, steam is made of hot water, and the stream of cold water; so it's
only the difference between hot and cold."
"I never thought of that," said Johnny, "but it's true enough; the
power that moves the wheel is in the water, whether it be hot or cold."
"Well, I think between grandmamma's spinning-wheel and the corn-mill
you will understand something of a factory at last."
"Indeed," said Willy, "I think a spinning-wheel must be very like a
factory in little, for it does just the same thing, only grandmamma's
foot, which turns the wheel, is not a bit like a steam-engine or a
stream of water."
Betsey could not help laughing at such a ridiculous comparison. Then
Johnny said, "Well, if it is not like, it does the same thing; her foot
is the power that turns the wheel; it don't signify what the power is,
so that it be strong enough to do the work."
"But then," observed Willy, "if the great wheel and the spindles do
all the work, what is there left for the men and women and children to
do?"
"Oh, there's plenty of work for everybody," returned Johnny, "a deal
more than I can explain to you. When the threads that are spinning
break, they stop the twisting and fasten them together, and even the
children can do that."
"To be sure, if it's only tying the broken thread together in a knot,
that is easy enough."
"But it's not tying a knot," said Betsey. "When your grandmother breaks
the thread she is spinning, does she tie it together in a knot?"
"No," replied Willy, "she twists the two ends together so cleverly that
the thread looks as if it had never been broken. I have often tried to
mend the thread so, but I never could."
"The children of the factory can, though," said Betsey, "they do it all
day long; and when once they have learnt it, it is easier to them than
tying a knot. But you can't teach the spindles to do it, so you see
they could not get on without the children."
The boys, who were always ready for a joke, fell a-laughing at Betsey's
idea of teaching the spindles any thing.
"I will tell you what you should do," said Johnny; "ask your Papa, who
seems to be so good-natured, to take you to see one of the factories
to-morrow. There are plenty of them here as well as at Milford, and
they say that all the great folks who come to Derby go to see one or
other of them."
"Then I hope he will," replied Willy, "but I should like best to see
the mills at Milford you have been telling me about, where your uncle
works."
THE FARM.
"Now you have told me all about the factories," said Willy, "I wish you
would tell me something about your farm."
"Oh! that is quite another sort of thing," replied Johnny; "it's all
out-of-doors work at a farm."
"And what sort of work do you do?"
"I cannot do much, because I am only ten years old, and am not strong
enough, for the work is much harder there than here."
"Not always," observed Betsey. "I am sure hay-making is more like play
than work, it's such good fun to rake up the hay, and then to have a
roll on the haycock, and sometimes we get a drive in the cart when the
hay is carrying."
"Yes," said Johnny; "but reaping, and ploughing, and digging are not so
easy. However, hard or easy, I have not much time for work, for I go to
school."
"And so do I," interrupted Betsey.
"Then," continued Johnny, "when we are at home we must help to take
care of poor blind mother; but I help a little in the stables too, for
I like to be looking after the horses and cows, and when I am older,
father says I shall go to plough."
"And I help too," cried Betsey. "I don't run after the cows as Johnny
does, but when he has brought them in I help Martha to milk them;
that is, I carry her milking stool, and bring in a jug of milk for
breakfast. Then I help her as much as I can to set all to rights in the
dairy; but what I like best of all is, to take the new-laid eggs so
nice and warm from under the hen that is sitting."
"Ah, ah!" cried Willy, laughing, "you see after all that you are fond
of robbing a bird's nest."
"Nay," said Betsey, "that is not a bird's nest; it is not made by the
hens, at least, for it is Martha who makes it, and then the hens were
hatched from our eggs; so you see that hens, and eggs, and nests, and
all, belong to us; and pray how can you rob what belongs to you?"
"But then," replied Willy, "is it not very hard upon the poor hen, to
take away her eggs just when she is sitting upon them to hatch them?"
"No," replied Betsey, "for we never take away all her eggs, we leave
her one, and that quite satisfies her; and when Martha wants to raise
a brood of chickens she leaves her all the eggs she lays, and puts
others under her besides; so you see we feed the hens and make them
nice warm nests; and they lay eggs for us; so it's tit for tat."
Betsey had the best of the argument, and Willy gave up the point.
"I should like," said he, "to work in a farm much better than in a
factory, where you are staying all day in a room fastening broken
threads."
"So do I," replied Johnny, "it is much pleasanter to be running about
out of doors after cattle, than to be shut up in the factory,--except
perhaps in winter, when you often get wet through. That is why my
uncle went to the factory; he got an ague by working out of doors in
the rain, and was so bad he lost all his strength, and could hardly
lift a spade. So, when he was better, he said he would go to the
factory, where they do not work so hard, and are always under cover.
When folks are not strong, a factory suits them best. Then every body
could not find work at a farm, so some must go to the factory, whether
they like it or not."
"But what sort of work is done in a farm?" inquired Willy.
"We grow corn to make bread, and breed cattle for meat."
"Then you make bread and meat for poor people's dinners," said Willy.
"I am sure that is very good of you."
"Oh! but father don't give it away," said Johnny, "he could not afford
that; he helps the poor people as much as he can, and pays them wages
for their work; but his corn he sells to the baker, who makes it into
bread; and his cattle to the butcher, who makes it into meat; and they
sell it both to rich and poor, they care not which, so that they do but
get paid for it."
"But the poor have no money to pay with," observed Willy.
"Then they must work to earn money; and that they may do either in
a farm or a factory. Why, in a factory, as I told you, even little
children get paid for their work."
"But what does your father do with all the money he gets for the corn
and cattle he sells to the baker and the butcher? for he don't want to
buy meat, nor bread, nor fowls, nor eggs, nor milk; for he gets all
those things from his farm."
"Yes, we get plenty to eat and to drink too from the farm," answered
Johnny, "for we make cider from our apples, and we brew beer from our
barley. But we want a great many other things besides food. We must
have clothes to keep us warm; and the factory people provide us with
clothes as we provide them with food."
"But," said Willy, "they do not make clothes at the factory, they only
make thread."
"Ay," replied Johnny, "but there are a great many other factories where
they make things for clothes, such as silk, and linen, and cotton, and
woollen cloth."
"Then," added Willy, "the thread they make at Milford serves the
tailors and mantua makers, who make up the clothes, to sew them with.
Well, how nicely that is contrived! people all help one another; it is
tit for tat, like Betsey and her hens."
The children now returned to their parents, whom they found sitting on
a bench.
Willy then made his request, and was much pleased to hear his mother
say that they intended seeing the factory the next day; "but," added
she, "we did not mean to take you with us; we thought you were too
young to understand it, and that you would like better to stay with
your friend Anna, and help her to gather fruit."