through the crack. But let us go to the other end of the row, where the
seeds were sown a day or two earlier." They did so, and upon turning up
the earth they found several seeds in which a little stem was growing
out of the split seed. This delighted Willy, who also picked up a seed
which seemed to have two stems, but the gardener told him one of them
was the root of the plant, and would grow down into the ground instead
of upright into the air. Then looking carefully along the bed, they saw
several tiny stems, scarcely bigger than threads, peeping above ground.
"I should like to know all about these seeds and flowers," said Willy,
"it is so very curious."
"I cannot teach you more than I have learnt myself by working in my
garden; but there are many people who know more about it from reading
in books, and I dare say when you grow up your papa will teach you more
about it."
The good old gardener then took Willy back to the house; and every
evening Willy went with him to learn how to work in his little garden.
The following week the peas were large enough to gather, and Willy
shelled them himself; and, I believe, he watched them whilst they were
boiling on the fire; and if he had been strong enough I do think he
would have carried them himself and placed them on the dinner table;
however, he had the satisfaction of seeing them, and hearing them
praised by his parents, and he thought he had never tasted any thing so
good in all his life.
THE LITTLE COWARD.
When Willy had been some time at his grandmother's, and made
acquaintance with every thing about the farm, and had been taught by
the old gardener to take care of his little garden, his grandmother
told him that she expected some friends from London. She said they
would bring with them a little boy about his own age, who, she hoped,
would make a pleasant companion for him; "I do not know him," added
she, "but as he has always lived in London, I dare say every thing
in the country will be new to him and amuse him." The thoughts of a
play-fellow pleased Willy much, and he was watching the greater part of
the day for the arrival of the carriage: at last he heard the trotting
of the horses, and the rolling of the wheels, and presently a carriage
stopped at the door, and the bell rung. The party soon alighted, and
appeared in the drawing-room; but the little boy, whose name was Tommy,
attracted all Willy's attention. There was some shyness between them
at first, but they soon got over it, and made acquaintance; and then
Willy took Tommy away to show him his garden. There they feasted on
gooseberries and currants; but unfortunately Tommy, in thrusting his
hand into a gooseberry-bush, got a thorn into one of his fingers, which
hurt him sadly.
"Oh! you must come in and have it taken out," said Willy, "and then the
pain will be over."
But Tommy did not like to do this, for he fancied that taking it out
would give him still more pain; however he was ashamed to say so, and
went into the house and told his mamma what had happened.
"You see, Mamma," said he, "that I was not afraid of thrusting my
hand into the gooseberry-bush." Poor Tommy knew he was a coward, and
therefore he was very glad when he had any thing which he thought
courageous to boast of.
"I think it would have been better if you had been afraid," replied his
mother. "There is always danger of being pricked, at least by thorns,
when you put your hand into a gooseberry-bush, and you should never run
into danger when there is no reason for it."
"Well, now let us look at this finger," and she brought her needle
for the purpose of taking out the thorn. At sight of the needle poor
Tommy's courage was all gone, and instead of holding out his hand he
ran off to the farthest corner of the room, and it was not without some
difficulty that she got him to consent to have the thorn taken out.
When this was done, and he found the pain entirely gone, he thought
he had been very foolish to make such a fuss about it, for the pain
of taking out the thorn had been very short, and now it was all over,
and he should have felt quite happy if he had not been ashamed of his
cowardice.
At night he slept in the same room as Willy, and in the morning he was
awakened by the crowing of the cocks, and he wanted Willy to get up
that he might go and see them in the poultry-yard. Willy said it was
too early, and that he must turn about and go to sleep again; but Tommy
remained awake listening with delight to the noise of cock-a-doodle-do,
cock-a-doodle-doo. By and by he heard another noise, and he could not
conceive what it was; it sounded like beating somebody, and he was
sadly frightened, thinking perhaps they might come and beat him. But
he was ashamed to awake Willy, who had fallen asleep again, lest he
should again laugh at him for his cowardice. So he lay awake, trembling
with fear, till Willy awoke. He then asked him what the noise was, and
Willy burst out laughing when he saw how frightened Tommy was.
"But are they not beating somebody very hard?" cried Tommy.
"No," replied Willy; "they are beating some thing, not some person."
"Well! but they must hurt it very much: I wonder you can laugh so."
"Dress yourself quickly, and come and see what it is, and then you will
laugh too."
As soon as they were dressed, Willy took him to the barn, and there
they saw four men threshing corn.
Tommy tried to laugh, but he did not do it heartily, for he could not
help thinking that those broken sticks tied together might by chance
give him a blow, instead of the corn. Willy told him those sticks
always struck at the same distance, so it was very easy for them to
know how near they might go to the threshers without danger, and he
walked boldly on, whilst Tommy followed him timidly, always keeping
at a greater distance than Willy; and he was very glad when Willy
proposed that they should go and see the cocks and hens, for he was
not at all afraid of them. Then there were ducks, too, swimming about
in a pretty little round pond, with their little ducklings swimming
after them. "I wonder the little chickens do not go into the water
too," said Tommy. Willy told him they could not swim, so that if they
went into the water they would be drowned; and the dairy-maid, who was
there feeding the poultry, took up a little duckling, and showed Tommy
how its feet were made. "They look like long fingers," said Tommy,
"only they are joined together by a thick skin." Then she took up a
chicken, and showed him it had no skin between its toes. "It is this
skin," said she, "which makes the ducks swim: look how the great duck
paddles in the water with his two legs, just as a man paddles in a boat
with his paddles or oars." She then gave the boys some food to throw
to the poultry, upon which they all gathered round Willy and Tommy,
ducks, chickens, turkeys, and all; and even the pigeons flew down from
the pigeon-house to partake of the feast. Tommy thought this extremely
diverting, though he could not help sometimes shrinking back a little
when a great turkey, or a cock with his red comb, came very near him.
Many of the birds quarrelled with each other for the crumbs, and at
last the turkey-cock grew so enraged, that he stretched out his great
black tail like a fan, his throat swelled and became purple, his eyes
and comb became red and fiery, and he screamed out gobbledy, gobbledy,
gobbledy; upon which Tommy let fall the dish in which he held the
crumbs, and scampered away as fast as his legs could carry him. Willy
hallooed after him to stop him, but nothing could persuade him to come
near the squalling turkey-cock. "Well," said Willy, "I think it is of
no use your coming into the country, if you are afraid of every thing
that is amusing."
THE LITTLE COWARD, CONTINUED.
The two boys were going in to breakfast when they met the old nurse,
who told them to come along with her, and they should have their
breakfast out of doors. When they got there, they found the dairy-maid,
who had finished feeding the poultry, and was now milking the cows.
"Well, Master Tommy," said she, "have you got over your fright of the
turkey-cock? I think," added she, "that you are apt to be afraid when
there is no danger, and not when there is; for you are standing now
close by the hind legs of my cow, and if she gave you a kick, she would
hurt you much more than any turkey-cock could ever do." Tommy jumped
away in an instant, and placed himself close beside the dairy-maid, as
if for protection. She then went on milking and filled two jugs, the
milk frothing up above the brim; and nurse said, the boys had better
drink it there, while it was warm from the cow, than take it home
across the farmyard to the nursery; and she gave them each a thick
slice of bread and butter to eat with the milk. They sat down on two
low milking stools, and ate their breakfasts with great appetite; but
just as Tommy held the jug up to his mouth, while his nose dipped into
the froth, a donkey who was in one of the stalls began to bray. He had
never heard an ass bray in his life, and certainly it is as ugly and
disagreeable a noise as can be made by any animal, so it is no wonder
that he was frightened. Down fell the jug on the ground, the milk was
all spilt, but luckily the mug was not broken. Tommy was going to run
away, but the nurse, and the dairy-maid, and Willy, all laughed so much
at him, that he stood still, as pale as a sheet, and trembling with
fear. "Why, what is it? and where is it? or who is it? Won't it hurt
us?"
"You goose," said Willy, "it is nothing but the donkey, the nice little
donkey that you are to ride upon after breakfast."
"Oh no, no," cried Tommy, "I will not ride upon it, indeed I will not."
Nurse then took the boys indoors. They each learnt their lessons very
well, and then two donkeys were brought to the door for them to ride;
but Tommy would not go near them. Willy was much vexed at this, and
tried all he could to persuade him to mount one of the donkeys. "See
how quiet and gentle they look," said he, "and then the boy who
goes with us can lead yours, if you like it." But Tommy could not be
persuaded, saying, that if it began braying again he should be so much
frightened that he was sure he should fall off. "Then you must go
alone, Willy," said his grandmamma; so Willy jumped up, and trotted
away. "See what a pleasure you lose," said his mother to Tommy, "from
being such a coward."
His mother's observation was very true; he was obliged to take a walk
all alone; and as he did not like to go into the lanes, or high roads,
for fear of meeting with something that would frighten him, he rambled
about the fields, where he unfortunately met with a drove of cows. Some
of them were a little skittish, and one of them was running up towards
Tommy, who in his fright, in order to avoid her, scrambled up a small
tree which stood close by. The drover called to him to come down,
telling him the cows would do him no harm, but he said he would rather
stay where he was till they were gone by. The drover only laughed at
him; but while the cows were passing underneath the tree, the branch
on which Tommy sat, so safely as he supposed, gave way, and Tommy, and
branch and all, came tumbling down amidst the drove of cows. The cows
were now frightened in their turn, and went kicking and scampering
about. The hoof of one of them struck poor Tommy, as he lay on the
ground, and hurt him sadly. The drover took him up in his arms, and
carried him home to the house, where he was put to bed, and the doctor
sent for. His poor mother was sadly grieved at this accident, and the
more so when she found that it was merely owing to her son's cowardice.
Tommy suffered a great deal of pain from being bruised by the cattle,
and having sprained his ankle in the fall, was obliged to keep his
bed for some days. He had then a great deal of time to think, and he
often thought how unlucky he was to meet with so many accidents; but
as he was thinking, it came into his mind that there was more folly
than ill-luck, and when he began to count over his misfortunes, he
found that, excepting the thorn in his finger, they all arose from his
cowardice. Oh, how he longed to get rid of his cowardice! But still he
felt that he had not the courage to do so.
One day as he was lying in bed with his eyes shut, his mamma, who was
sitting in the room at work with his grandmamma, thinking that Tommy
was asleep, said,--
"What would I give, if my poor child could get rid of that sad fault.
It makes his life unhappy, and mine too, I am sure; for I am always
afraid of some accident happening to him, and then it grieves me to the
heart that he should be so weak and foolish."
Grandmamma tried to comfort her, and said that she hoped, as he grew
older, he would get more courage.
Tommy peeped through his eye-lashes, and saw his mother's eyes full
of tears. This made him feel very unhappy. He had always thought that
nobody suffered from his cowardice but himself; and he could not bear
the idea of making his mother unhappy. When she heard him move in the
bed, she said, "Now I must go and give him his medicine, and even that
is a painful task for me. I am obliged both to scold and coax in order
to make him take it." What was her surprise when, on offering him the
dose, he swallowed it at one draught, without even making a wry face,
and then flung his arms round his mother's neck, saying, "Dear Mamma,
does that make you happy?"
"Yes, my love, indeed it does," said she; "but how is it that you have
all at once become so courageous?"
"It is from hearing what you said just now to grandmamma," replied he.
"I am so very sorry to have made you unhappy, that I do not think that
I shall ever be a coward again. I can't be sure, but I hope so. I will
try all I can."
And Tommy kept his word. I do not mean to say that he never shrunk
back, or that he did not suffer a great deal from fright; but the idea
of his mother's unhappiness always kept up his courage, and after some
time he got completely rid of this fault.
THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN.
The time now came for Willy to return with his parents to London. He
was very sorry to leave his dear Grandmamma, his nice little garden,
and the good old gardener. He was very sorry, too, to part with Tommy,
who since he began to get rid of his cowardice was a very pleasant
companion; but there was no choice, so he tried to make the best of
it. The railroad soon diverted his thoughts, and he began moving about
from place to place, rather to the disturbance of the passengers. His
mother desired him to sit still; but then he began to yawn. A lady in
the carriage called him to her, and placing him on her knees, said,
"Now, I dare say you love stories, don't you?"
"Oh yes, very much," cried Willy, whose yawning suddenly ceased. "Well,
then, as I see you are an obedient child, I will tell you one. But my
stories are about little girls; for I lived as governess with little
girls when I was younger than I am now, and I used to tell them stories
about girls."
"Oh, that don't signify," said Willy; "I like all stories, whether
they are about girls or boys, or any thing else, and I shall be very
glad if you will be so kind as to tell me one." Then the lady began in
the following manner:--
"There was once a washerwoman whose name was Mrs. Brown. She had a
daughter called Lucy, who was a quick clever child, and who, though
only ten years old, was already of some use to her mother, in helping
her to wash and iron. As the common irons were too heavy for her, her
mother bought her a small one. Lucy was very proud of it, and with it
she used to iron children's pocket-handkerchiefs and nightcaps, and
other things which were small, and easily ironed. She also went with
her mother to gentlemen's houses to fetch the linen to be washed.
"One day, while they were at a gentleman's house, counting out the
linen they were to take away, two little girls ran into the room. The
elder, who was eight years old, was called Anne, and the name of the
younger, who was only six, was Susan."
"Why that is just like Sophy and Cary," said Willy, "but go on."
The lady then continued.
"'Oh, Mrs. Brown!' said Anne, 'I am so glad you and Lucy are come, for
we want our doll's clothes to be washed. Cannot you wash them for us?'
"'To be sure I can, Miss,' answered Mrs. Brown; 'but I thought you
always washed them yourselves.'
"'Yes, we do in general,' said Susan, 'but we are going to have a
little party of friends, so we want the doll to be very nicely dressed,
and I am sure you would wash her clothes much better than we could.'
"'But, perhaps,' added she, 'Lucy can wash them; for I know you have
taught her to wash; and then she has a nice little iron of her own,
which I think would iron dolls' clothes better than a large one. Do
you think you could, Lucy?'
"Lucy coloured up with pleasure that the young ladies should trust
their doll's clothes to her, and timidly answered 'Yes.' Anne then
asked on what day Mrs. Brown brought the linen home, and when she heard
it was not till Saturday, she exclaimed, 'Oh dear! that will never do,
for our little party is to-morrow evening.'
"'I can wash them out to-day,' said Lucy, 'iron them to-morrow morning,
and bring them home in good time.'
"'That will do very well,' said Susan, 'and I will tell you what, if
they are nicely done, I will give you one of the cakes that we are
to have to treat our friends with. Then you must take particular care
of this frock. Only look how pretty it is,' said she, holding up the
doll's frock; 'it is covered all over with little worked sprigs, and
the muslin is so clear, that you can see quite through it, and the doll
has a beautiful pink slip to wear underneath it. But we do not send
that to be washed, because it is made of satin, and satin does not
wash. This white petticoat,' said she, 'is only an under one, and then,
here is her shift, for Miss Dolly must be clean from top to toe, that
the company may admire her.'
"Anne also desired that great care should be taken of the frock; 'for,'
said she, 'it is so thin, that, if you were to rub it hard, you would
be sure to tear it.'
"Lucy promised to mind all they said, and the bundles of linen being
now tied up, Mrs. Brown and her daughter carried them away."
"Well!" said Willy, "I dare say something will happen to the poor
doll's clothes."
"We shall see," replied the lady, and continued her story.
"When Lucy got home she began immediately to wash out the doll's
clothes, and then she hung them out in the garden to dry. She took
care not to spread them on a gooseberry-bush, or on any plant that had
thorns, which might tear them, but hung them over a little line, and
when they were dry, she took them in, sprinkled them, and folded them
up."
The train now stopped at a station, and there was so much bustle made
by the passengers, some of whom were getting out of the carriages
and others getting in, some taking leave of their friends and others
meeting friends, that the lady could not go on with her story; but when
every one was settled, Willy looked very wistfully at her, and said,
"Now we are all so nice and quiet, won't you go on with the story."
And the lady went on as follows.
"The next morning Lucy was very impatient to iron the doll's clothes.
Her mother bade her take care not to make her iron too hot lest she
should scorch them and told her every time she heated it in the fire
to try it on something else before she began ironing. This Lucy did
very carefully; but as the iron never scorched the linen on which she
tried it, she thought she might go on without further trials. She
succeeded very well. The shift and the petticoat were nicely ironed
and folded up, and she had half-finished ironing the frock, when her
mother called her to help her to lift a heavy basket full of clothes,
and as her iron was nearly cool she put it to the fire while she went
to help her mother. As soon as she returned, she began ironing again,
when, lo and behold! there was a great scorch all up the frock from
top to bottom. Poor Lucy knew not what to do: she thought of the young
ladies, of their party of friends, and of the nice cake they would
have given her if she had done her task well. She was ashamed to go
and ask her mother what she should do, because she had neglected to
follow her advice. After looking at the long yellow stain in dismay
for some time, she at last thought she might perhaps wash it out, and
dry it and iron it in time to set all right. So she put it into her
own little washing-tub and began rubbing it, in hopes of getting out
the stain. But it still remained; so she rubbed harder and harder,
till at last she tore a great hole in the muslin. Then she thought all
was lost, and in despair she burst into tears. Her mother came to know
what was the matter, and began scolding her for being so careless; but
when she found how much grieved Lucy was, she tried to make the best
of it. She finished getting up the frock herself, and then laying
all the doll's clothes nicely in a little basket, she bade Lucy carry
them home and confess the truth. Poor Lucy was sadly frightened at the
idea of carrying home the frock in this condition, thinking she should
be scolded, and that the young ladies would never let her wash their
things any more. As for the piece of cake, she gave that up for lost;
and as she had eaten cake only two or three times in her life, and
thought it very nice, she was very sorry to lose it, but not so sorry
as she would have been at any other time, for she was too unhappy to
care about eating. Well: she walked towards the young ladies' house
with her little basket hanging on her arm, but she went on at a very
slow pace; and when she came near the house she sat down on a bank
by the road-side to try to gather courage to tell the sad story. She
looked anxiously towards the house, when she saw the two little girls
popping their heads out at a window which looked down the road. 'Oh!'
cried she, 'they are watching for me, but if they see me stopping here
they will only think the worse of me for loitering whilst they are so
impatient. Then,' added she, 'the sooner it is over the better.' So
she got up and walked quickly towards the house. When she arrived
she could not say a word, but the impatient little girls snatched the
basket and began unfolding the parcel. What was their horror when they
saw the beautiful sprigged muslin frock quite spoilt! Susan, who was a
quick-tempered child, was very angry, and scolded poor Lucy heartily.
"'What a shame!' said she, 'to tear our best doll's frock all to
pieces. You shall have no cake, no, that you shall not;' and,
bursting into tears, she ran away to tell her mamma. Anne was much
more moderate. She was older than her sister, and of a more gentle
disposition; and when she saw the tears running down poor Lucy's
cheeks, instead of scolding her, she inquired how it had happened; and
finding that it was merely from a little heedlessness, she begged Lucy
to dry up her tears, as she was sure she would be more careful another
time. Susan then returned into the room with her mamma, and Lucy again
was frightened, expecting a severe scolding from the lady. But instead
of that, she spoke to her calmly and good-naturedly; and Susan, who
had been reprimanded by her mother for her violence, stood silent and
abashed. Lucy, quite comforted at being so well treated, dropped a
courtesy and was going away, when Susan bid her stay a minute longer,
and ran and fetched her the cake. But Lucy did not dare take it. 'No,
Miss!' she said, 'I do not deserve it.' 'But,' said the lady, 'if you
do not deserve it on account of the washing, Susan owes you some amends
for behaving so ill to you when she was in a passion.' Lucy blushed
and smiled and took the cake, and went away quite happy; and Anne and
Susan's kind mamma soon made them happy too; for she gave them a piece
of new muslin, which matched the doll's frock exactly. Nurse had just
time to take out the spoilt part and sew in a new breadth; and before
their little friends arrived, dolly was in full dress, and very much
admired by them all."
THE RETURN TO OLD FRIENDS.
"Well, that is a pretty story," said Willy; "and do you know a great
many others?"
"Yes," said the lady; "but I should be out of breath if I told you
stories all the way; besides, I want to talk to other people as well as
to you."
Willy thought that was but fair; and, after thanking the lady for her
kindness, he returned to seat himself by his mamma, who told him they
would soon reach Derby. This pleased him highly. "Then," said he, "I
shall see my old friend Anna, the landlady's daughter at the inn. Oh!
but we shall not see the blind woman and her children."
"Possibly we may," replied his mother, "for to-morrow is Sunday, and
that is the day they are most likely to go to see their old mother."
Soon after they reached Derby, Willy renewed acquaintance with Anna and
the landlady; and in the evening they went to walk in the Arboretum,
and there they met all the family, except the blind woman herself.