Constance, Julia, and Dorothy had obtained their mamma's leave to spend
the afternoon with a young lady who lived at the distance of a mile and
a half from their house; and as soon as they had dined, their maid being
ordered to attend them, they set forward down a shady green lane, and
across the fields.
Nothing could be more agreeable and pleasant than the weather, or more
beautiful than the way they had to go; the hedges were full of the
sweetest flowers, and the birds sung with more than usual harmony.
Susan, the maid, was quite delighted; she stopped every moment to look
around, and admire the beauties which presented themselves to her eyes
on every side.
Not so her young ladies: they had each a reason why they could neither
enjoy the fragrance of the flowers, the music which echoed from every
bush, nor any of the beauties which surrounded them.
Constance was so afraid of the smallest worm which happened to lie in
her path, was so terrified at every fly which passed her, that she could
enjoy nothing. She walked on, with her eyes bent on the ground, watching
each blade of grass, and stepping with the utmost precaution, expecting
every moment to be stung to death, or bit by some dangerous insect.
Julia had passed the whole time of dinner in bewailing the loss of a
cold chicken on which she had set her heart; but her dear little pussy
having wandered into the pantry in search of a mouse, and being just as
fond of cold chicken as her young mistress, and thinking it preferable
to the finest mouse (perhaps because it was a greater rarity to her),
this ill-bred pussy had dragged it away into a corner, where, if she did
not eat it all at one meal, she had leave to finish it the next day.
Julia had lost her dinner: disappointed of her cold chicken, she saw
nothing else on the table (though there were several dishes which the
rest of the family commended extremely) which she could possibly eat of.
She was too nice to eat any thing common, and had persuaded herself that
nothing but delicacies agreed with her: she could not taste either beef
or mutton, or ever dine without fish, lamb, or poultry; she hated the
winter because there were no vegetables to be had but potatoes, and was
delighted when the season came for her to dine on green peas,
cauliflower, and asparagus.
The delicate Julia often rose hungry from table; and as this had been
the case on the day of their walk, she was sick and uncomfortable,
sauntered along, complaining at every step, and, had she not suddenly
recollected having a nice biscuit in her pocket, would probably have
been unable to proceed.
Dorothy troubled herself as little as her sisters about the birds or the
flowers, the lowing of the cattle, or the fine prospect. Naturally
indolent, and hating to move from her place, she was much less inclined
to do so after dinner, than at any other time of the day; for she had no
objection to either beef, mutton, or potatoes, and would (if she had
been suffered to do so) eat of all three, and as many more different
things, as much as would have been sufficient, either of them, for the
dinner of any child of her age.
"Come, Miss Dorothy," cried Susan, "do pray walk a little faster. Dear
me! how heavy do you trudge along, with your arms hanging down by your
sides! Why, you will not take the trouble to lift your feet from the
ground--pray look what a dust you raise at every step. Come, take me by
the arm--look, what a pretty wood this is we are got into, and--oh dear!
what a quantity of strawberries there are upon that bank. Do you see how
beautiful and red they appear among the brambles and dry sticks which
lie over them?"
The very idea of something to eat was sure to rouse Dorothy. Constance
and Julia also advanced to look at the strawberries; they were very
tempting, and they each wished to taste them, but there were
difficulties in the way not likely to be conquered.
Julia's desire for them soon vanished, for she recollected that she had
neither cream nor sugar, without which she did not think them eatable.
Dorothy said they were very good without either, and she wished she had
a good basket-full, she would soon shew them how well she liked them;
but they could not be got at without removing the brambles and wood,
which appeared to have been purposely laid over them, to preserve them
till they were ripe; and Dorothy, after taking away three or four
sticks, and a bush or two, began to puff and blow, as if she had been
running a race, and declared she could do no more, much as she wished
for the strawberries, if it would save her life.
"How can you be so extremely lazy?" exclaimed Constance, eager to get at
the tempting fruit. "You cannot bear to take the least trouble,
Dorothy--come, let me help you; I should be sorry to leave them. What a
beautiful scarlet they are, and how finely they smell!--Come, come, let
us remove these brambles."
Dorothy had thrown herself upon the grass, declaring she could not stir;
and Susan, who was well acquainted with the dispositions of her three
young ladies, determined not to interfere.
Constance began very briskly to take away the brambles; but she had
scarcely uncovered a few of the strawberries, when a small insect, which
she had disturbed, flew out of a bush directly against her, entangled
its little wings in her hair, and almost frightened her into fits. She
ran to Susan in the most terrible alarm, insisting that a hornet had
got into her hair, and that she should be stung to death in an instant.
She prevailed upon her sisters to leave the spot immediately, and nobody
could persuade her but that she had disturbed a hornet's nest, and had
had a most miraculous escape.
They spent the afternoon with their young friend much in the usual
manner; each of them constantly meeting with something or other to
disturb them and spoil their pleasure.
Returning in the evening through the wood, they saw a group of little
boys and girls sitting under the trees, and eating strawberries; some
had their hats full, some held them in their hands, and others in little
baskets of their own making.
Susan asked them where they had gathered so many strawberries. "Why
there," answered one of the boys, "where you see the bushes and brambles
all in a heap. We covered them up above a week ago, to let them ripen;
but I wonder we did not lose them all, for somebody has been here, I am
sure, though I suppose they did not see the nice strawberries, or they
never would have been such fools as to leave them: but it was well for
us that they were so blind."
"And whom did you get to take the trouble to remove all those things for
you?" inquired Dorothy, as she hung on Susan's arm with all her weight.
"Lauk-a-day! Miss," said the boy, grinning in her face, "to be sure you
be joking. Do you call that trouble?"
Constance said he was very right; that it certainly could be _no
trouble_; but she really wondered they had not been terrified from
attempting to get at the strawberries, when they saw what a number of
frightful and dangerous creatures were creeping and flying about them.
And now the whole party not only grinned, but laughed aloud; and Julia
told her sisters they had better not make such foolish observations,
which only served to make the children laugh at them: that it was
ridiculous to suppose they should think it a labour to remove a few
brambles, or that they should be so weak as to be afraid of harmless
flies and worms; but she must say, she was a little surprised that they
did not go home with their strawberries, and get some cream and sugar to
eat with them: no house in the country was without cream; there could
be no difficulty in getting a bit of sugar, and it would make them so
nice, that they would never afterwards relish them alone.
"That would be very unfortunate," replied a girl some years older than
the others (who only noticed Julia's speech by redoubled peals of
laughter), "for we should lose many such a treat as we are now enjoying,
if we were to take such a foolish whim into our heads. Pray, Miss, do
you imagine that my mother keeps a cow, to give us the cream to eat with
strawberries? No! no! she sells her butter, and buys us clothes with the
money. I wish you could all three spend a month in our cottage, you
would learn to be glad enough of having one nicety, without wishing to
add another to it; and to know that those who choose to eat must learn
to work, and not call trouble that which is no more than play. You would
also perceive, after spending two or three days on your knees in weeding
the corn or the garden, that you are in no danger of being either stung
or bit by innocent flies or caterpillars, and that till you get rid of
all your foolish fancies, you will have no pleasure in any thing in the
world, but that all your happiness and comfort will be sacrificed to
whim, indolence, and weakness?"