"I wish," said Frederick to Mr. Peterson, "I could be with my aunt in
town to spend the holidays; I shall be so tired here in the country, I
shall not know what to do with myself. Two of my schoolfellows live in
the next street to my aunt, and they will be going with their papa to
the play, and to Astley's, and to walk in the Park, and will have so
much more pleasure than I shall have--why, I might as well be at
school, as here sauntering about the fields."
"You are not very civil," answered Mr. Peterson. "When you came from
Barbadoes last year, and had no other acquaintance, you liked very well
to be with me in the holidays: however, if you desire it, my dear
Frederick, you shall go to your aunt's, that you may be near your little
friends, and I will write to their papa, to request that he will give
you leave to be with them as much as possible, that you may partake of
all their pleasures, for I do not think you will have a great deal in
your aunt's house; you know she is always ill, and cannot have it in her
power to procure you much amusement."
Frederick was accordingly sent to town, and his first wish was to pay a
visit to his two friends in the next street. His aunt's servant was
ordered to conduct him to the house, and he was shewn immediately up
stairs; but, instead of meeting with those he expected, he found their
papa alone in the drawing-room, sitting at a table covered with papers,
and apparently very busy.
On inquiring for his schoolfellows, he was very much surprised at being
informed that they were gone into the country: "for," said their papa,
"they would not have liked to be confined at home all their holidays,
and I should have had no time to run about with them; they might as well
have remained at school as have been here; but where they are gone they
will enjoy themselves; they will spend a week at their grandfather's,
and from thence go to my good friend, Mr. Peterson's, where they will
have all the pleasure and amusement they can possibly wish for."
Frederick was so vexed and disappointed that he could not open his lips,
but made a low bow, and returned to his aunt, whom he found just risen
to breakfast. She was quite crippled with rheumatism, and had so great a
weakness in her eyes, that she could not bear the light, and would only
allow one of the windows to have a little bit of the shutter open.
In this dismal room, without any thing to amuse himself with, was poor
Frederick condemned to spend his holidays: his aunt made him read to her
whenever she was awake, and it was only when she dropped asleep for half
an hour in her easy chair, that he could creep softly to the other end
of the room, and peep with one eye into the street, through the little
opening between the shutters.
Poor Frederick now sincerely repented having been so rude and ungrateful
to Mr. Peterson, and wished a thousand times a day he had been contented
to stay at his house; he would have been very happy to have had it in
his power to return, but dared not propose it to his aunt, and would
also have been ashamed to appear before Mr. Peterson.
After many melancholy days, and tedious evenings, spent in lonely
solitude, he at length saw the happy morning which was to end his
captivity. "What a foolish boy I have been!" thought he, as he was
putting his things together. "The day of my return to school is my
first holiday, and the preparations I am making for it the only pleasure
I have felt since I left it. In the country, where I might have enjoyed
the liberty of running in the fields in the open air, I was discontented
and restless; and I left it, to shut myself up in a sick room. I am now
going back to school, to have the pleasure of hearing how agreeably all
my schoolfellows have been spending their time, whilst I shall have
nothing to recount to them, but how many phials were ranged on my aunt's
chimney-piece, and how many hackney-coaches I could see with one eye
pass through the street."
Frederick was very right; he found his two little friends just arrived,
and who, for a whole week, could speak of nothing but the pleasure they
had enjoyed at Mr. Peterson's. They told him of their having being
several times on the river on fishing-parties, of two nice little ponies
which had been procured for them, that they might ride about in the
shady lanes, and round the park, and of the beautiful houses and gardens
they had been taken to see in the neighbourhood.
They had a great many very pretty presents, which they shewed to
Frederick, and which they had received from their friends, who had been
pleased with their behaviour, and had desired they might be allowed to
pay them a visit at the next vacation.
Frederick could never forget how much he had lost by his folly; he knew
he had been wrong, and, as he was not a bad boy, he was not ashamed to
acknowledge it, but wrote a very pretty letter to Mr. Peterson, begging
him to forgive the rudeness he had been guilty of, and telling him how
much he had suffered by it; assuring him that he would never again
desire to quit his house to go to any other, and saying, that he never
should have done it, if he had not been a foolish restless boy; that he
had been severely punished for his fault, and hoped he would think it
enough, and grant him his pardon as soon as possible.
Mr. Peterson readily complied with his request, and invited him, the
next time he left school, to accompany his two little friends to his
house, where they spent a month in the midst of pleasure and amusement;
sometimes riding the ponies to the top of a hill, from whence they
could see the hounds followed by the huntsman, and several gentlemen on
horseback; at other times assisting their good friend to entertain his
tenants with their wives and children round a Christmas fire in the
great hall: in short, Frederick was so happy, that he never once thought
of Astley, the Park, or the play, or had any desire to quit Mr. Peterson
in search of other amusements.