mistaken in imagining herself so ill. But the more he examined her
countenance on which the indelible stamp of death was already
impressed, the more he was convinced that she was right. From that
moment, he scarcely quitted her bed-side, but watched over her, read
portions of the scriptures to her whenever she was able to listen,
and even prayed with her. Her composure and benignity were gradually
communicated to his mind, so that though the one of all the family
who was the most fondly attached to her, he was the only one who
could view her approaching death with sufficient calmness to be
able to listen to her when she talked about it. Short was the time,
however, that he was called upon to exercise this self-command, for
the vital torch was nearly extinguished, and her short, but innocent
life, was nearly drawn to a close. George, whose affectionate offices
seemed to become more and more grateful to her as the time approached
nearer when she must resign them altogether, had sat up with her all
night; and her mother, toward morning, was prevailed upon to go and
take a little rest, under the assurance from Sally, that she did
not need any thing that her brother could not do for her. Just as
her mother left the room, the first beam of the morning sun glanced
through the window. "Put out the lamp, George," said she, "and draw
back the window curtain, that I may see the sun rise. It is the last
time that I shall ever see it rise, and oh! it is a glorious sight.
I should have been glad, if I had been permitted to live longer,
for this world is beautiful, and I wanted to see you a wise and good
man, but that I hope you will be, though I am not here to see it; and
always remember me, George, and think how dearly I loved you. Raise
me up a little, and put the pillows under my shoulders--there, that
will do. Oh! George, I can't see! Take hold of my hand." George took
her hand, she pressed his gently; and he watched, scarcely venturing
to breathe, lest it should prevent him from hearing her words when
she should next speak. But gradually he felt her hand relax from
the pressure of his; he looked at her lips, but they were still; he
put his face to her mouth, but no breath escaped from it; all was
motionless. He was conscious that she was dead, but so sweet, so
placid was the repose into which she was sunk, that he was unwilling
to stir, lest he should destroy the heavenly feeling. How long he
thus hung over her, he was himself unconscious; but when, at length,
he was interrupted by the entrance of some of the family, he left the
room, and hastened into the open air, as if unwilling to mingle the
hallowed feelings which pervaded his mind with the more boisterous
grief of the other members of the family.
Violent grief, for such a death, George felt to be impossible;
and though he never ceased to think of her loss but with the most
affectionate regret, his sorrow was so blended with the conviction
that the change was a happy one for her, that it soon softened down
to a holy and tender remembrance, which served only to stimulate his
mind to virtue and piety; and the sweet proof that she had given so
short a time before her death of her affection for him, made him
cherish with grateful pleasure the recollection of the Pet Lamb.
THE CLEAN FACE;
or,
THE BOY WASHED BY HIS ELDER SISTER.
Oh! why must my face be wash'd so clean,
And scrubb'd and drench'd for Sunday,
When you know very well (as you've always seen)
'Twill be dirty again on Monday?
My hair is stiff with the lathery soap
That behind my ears is dripping;
And my smarting eyes I'm afraid to ope;
And my lip the suds is sipping.
They're down my throat, and up my nose--
And to choke me you seem to be trying.
That I'll shut my mouth you needn't suppose,
For how can I keep from crying?
And you rub as hard as ever you can--
And your hands are hard--to my sorrow;
No woman shall wash me when I'm a man--
And I wish I was one to-morrow.
E. LESLIE.
[Illustration: Painted by Scharp. Engraved by J. B. Neagle.
THE CLEAN FACE.]
LE LOUP ET L'AGNEAU.
BY THE AUTHOR OF LIGHTS OF EDUCATION.
Soon after the dreadful massacre of the white inhabitants of St.
Domingo many years ago, a French family came to settle in Baltimore.
With a small sum of money, saved from the wreck of a large fortune,
they purchased an acre of ground, about a mile from town, with a
stone house built on it; over which they contrived to spread a
foreign appearance, by thatching the slanting roof of the porch in
front--latticing the small windows--and hanging out a nightingale
in a wicker cage. The family consisted of a gentleman and lady, a
nephew, and an infant daughter, with the domestics, the faithful
adherents of their master's adverse fortune. After some time, Mr.
Leroy obtained a small salary in the French consul's office; Madame
Leroy worked stays; the servant woman (Pauline) made cakes, and sold
them at market, or in the park on _field-days_, to the followers of
the military assembled there. The man (Antoine) cultivated West India
vegetables; but when Pauline was away, he added all the work of the
house to his own occupation; and could cook, wash, and iron, better
than herself, though he never scolded half so loud. Little Susette
was a sweet creature; with bright laughing black eyes, and of a
lively, courageous temper. Her cousin was not so; whether the horrid
scenes he indistinctly remembered in his own country, or the little
sympathy he found in another, tended the most to depression and fear,
I know not; but Louis was pensive even to sadness, and timid almost
to feminine weakness. These qualities, so injurious to his future
prospects, might have been overcome, since they did not appear in
the feelings of his early childhood, had he been left either with
his family, in the peaceful enjoyment of his own little pleasures,
or found associates, who would have enlivened and encouraged by
kindness and protection. But the only boy who sought his society, was
the least likely to benefit him in this respect. He was the son of a
wealthy brewer, whose residence was near Mr. Leroy's, and his name
was Michael Redman; commonly called Mike, and sometimes Red Mike.
This boy was the usual companion of Louis, from beyond the Falls to
school, and back again. Strange, that nothing should grow out of such
constant intercourse, in a free country, but wanton oppression and
slavish fear; because the ready invention and quick perception of the
little Frenchman excited the envy of his unintellectual companion,
though he affected to despise all the delicate endowments of that
mind, which he kept in bondage by the exercise of his savage strength
alone; but this reduced Louis to the most degraded state of slavery,
till at length he became subservient to his tyrant's purposes on
every occasion; would I could say of good _or_ evil, where all was
evil. On Michael's youthful countenance already were impressed the
marks of fatal passions; and every day the traces deepened, the
shadows darkened. This was more perceptible, whenever his forbidding
face appeared in opposition to the lovely, innocent countenance of
Louis Leroy; and then so remarkable was the contrast exhibited, that
any one would have been struck with the truth of the application,
when an old French gentleman, who usually came on an evening to share
Mr. Leroy's frugal supper, of bread and salad, exclaimed on seeing
the two boys together--"Voila, le loup et l'agneau." (Behold, the
wolf and the lamb.) Well might he say so, and the transactions of two
days will prove it sufficiently to the reader. Little Susette had
been ill, and was ordered regular exposure in the open air. This was
not so easy, considering the constant occupation of the family; but
Louis carried her in his arms all about the place, whenever he was
at home, till she recovered, and then she soon grew too stout for
his nursing; so one day, when Pauline was gone to attend a parade in
the park, Antoine was spreading out beans and okras at the back of
the house to dry, and Madame Leroy was finishing a pair of stays,
Louis took the baby in his arms, and carried her under a shady tree;
when sitting down beside her, he began to contrive in his thoughts a
proper coach for her.
[Illustration: Printed by W. Mulready R.A. Engraved by J. B. Neagle
THE WOLF & THE LAMB]
As soon as he had drawn out the plan in his head, he set about the
execution of it with his hands; and by the labour of a few Saturdays,
and the sacrifice of a little money that his teacher had given him
for some service in the school, he made her an elegant carriage,
which he painted with yellow ochre, and emblazoned with his uncle's
coat of arms, as he thought he remembered it on the old family coach,
belonging to three generations of noblesse in St. Domingo. He had
put the infant in her fairy vehicle, and was drawing her toward the
house, to show it to his aunt, when Mike Redman appeared. "Hurra,
Louy, what have you got there? It looks like a frog in a pumpkin
shell." The comparison was not unapt, when he only saw a small head,
and two little fat hands, peeping out of a yellow box. "Come, tumble
it out here, I want you to go a-fishing, and this wagon will do to
carry them home in." "Oh, no, Michael, that is little Susette's."
"Oh, never mind, she's able to trot about well enough on her own
stumpy legs; but the fish have no feet to walk." "I will bring
Antoine's basket." "No, you needn't, this thing here is a great deal
better; and we'll keep it for that always. So hurra, Miss Susan,
clear out, and run as fast as you can." Saying this, he took the baby
from the carriage, and stood her on the ground; upon which she did
not cry, but remained looking in his face, with a mixed expression of
surprise and dislike, and never offered to stir; Louis, who at the
moment was more afraid for Susette than himself, agreed to go with
Mike, if he would wait till he carried the child in. Satisfied with
his conquest so far, Redman remained; and when Louis returned, they
set off,--but this poor boy could not recover the mortification of
sacrificing the toy he had made, with such ingenuity, for the use of
his little cousin, and with which he thought he should delight her
parents, for the portage of Mike Redman's fish: yet, even this was
not so painful a sensation, as he felt, when forced by his companion
to catch worms, and bait the hooks with them. At the commencement,
indeed, he was so much overcome, that he sickened to faintishness,
upon which Michael showed so much feeling, as to throw a hat-full of
water in his face; from which it descended in streams to his breast,
and making his clothes thoroughly wet, promised to add ill-health to
the other evils of his constitution. When the boys were returning
home, Mike said, "This is a prime thing, Louy--this here wagon, I'm
going to keep it, to carry things always; you can easily get another
for yourself, if you want." "No, Michael, I cannot, I have not more
money." "Oh! well then, you can do without--as you did before you
made it." "But, little Susette, she cannot do without it, because
she is sick." "Sick--not she, I tell you--she's as stout as any
little pig, so you must make her walk." "Oh, no, Michael, she is too
little, she cannot walk such a great deal." "To be sure she can--it
is the very thing for her; why, she'll grow as round as one of them
tubs yonder in our yard, if you let her ride; so, I'll keep the
carriage for that; and, look here, Louy, since you're so clever at
these sort o' notions, I want you to make me some arrows. You must
get me a dozen done by Saturday--that's the last of our holidays,
you know--and then, if I shoot any birds a _Sunday_, I'll give you
one or two for your supper." "I do not want them, Michael, I would
prefer you let them sing on Sunday."--"Well, I don't want to give
you any birds, if you prefer _go without_--but you must make me the
arrows at any rate, and if you don't have them ready, when I call for
them, you'll be sorry." What Mike Redman wanted with a dozen arrows
and a baby's carriage, I leave to the consideration of those young
people, who have witnessed in their companions a premature acuteness
in ways of traffic; which discovers itself in the sale, or barter, of
all the small wares they can beg or borrow: I omit the other word,
so commonly united with these two, because, I trust, that at this
period, when education has extended moral influence so far, there is
not one, in the whole circle of boyish transgressions, to whom the
application of such a word would not be a false and shocking libel.
The characters of children then, perhaps, were less attended to; and
certainly Mike Redman's parents, though they fed him plentifully,
and clothed him fashionably, could never have instructed him in the
slightest principle; since he did not give without reluctance, to the
poor boy who assisted him materially, a few little fishes to help
out his miserable dinner, or scruple to take from him a toy that had
cost him three days' labour, and the money that otherwise should
have purchased him a new jacket, (which he sadly wanted,) to procure
pleasure for his infant relative.
When Louis entered the room, where the family usually assembled, he
found the old French gentleman had come to dine with them; though
there was nothing on the table, but a dish of okra or gumbo soup,
a salad, and an omelette; to which, however, were soon added,
through the quick hands of Antoine, Louis's contribution of fish;
and surely round any richer board, there was not then assembled a
more striking picture of "the sublime and beautiful:" a Christian
philosopher cheerfully resigned to the changes of fortune, and his
lovely companion, with faithful affection, smiling while she shared
his fate. There was so striking a resemblance between Madame Leroy
and her nephew, that many persons supposed they were mother and son;
and as he was the only child of a beloved sister, that escaped the
general death, she loved him as if he had been her own. Mr. Leroy was
also related to him in the same degree; his brother having married
the mother of Louis,--had this not been the case, however, he would
have been fond of him for his wife's sake. He loved every one that
she loved, and herself more than all. Little Susette had forgotten
her coach, or resigned to its loss, was making smiling faces over her
soup as she drafted it from her plate to her mouth, by half spoonfuls
at a time. Poor Louis almost forgot his hardships, under a cruel
task-master, when he sat down to his temperate meal, with so good
an appetite; while the pleasant jests of the gay old gentleman were
relished by all the party, with that better philosophy of the French
school, which teaches to make the most of the simplest pleasures, and
which, I am afraid, few but her own scholars have learned. The next
morning Louis arose early, to perform his allotted task, which would
have been easy enough, even had he been less expert. His aunt, whom
he did not inform that this labour was involuntary, and from whom he
had constantly concealed all the other impositions of Mike Redman,
gave him a dozen large pins to tip the arrows with, and Antoine cut
him the most suitable wood. But light as the task was, his spirit
now rebelled at this slavery, and whispered "Be free," so with a
revolting soul he finished the arrows. But Michael, whose father
had taken him to the country on Saturday, could not call for them
before Monday, when they were to go to school. Louis had a satchel
made, ready to carry his books neatly; but Mike, whose mother never
thought of making him one, was obliged to carry his as well as he
could without, and he now threw them down with his cap and gloves, to
examine the arrows; little Susette, who was playing in the yard, with
a tin cup, and with which she had been making music on the stones,
now began to look at the books, and with the usual destructiveness
of infancy to the works of literature, she tore some of the leaves
out. When Mike had put all the arrows in the quiver, except one, he
turned round, and seeing the condition of his books, he flew at the
little creature in a rage, as if he would tear her in pieces; and
so verify his title to the name of a wolf. The cowardice of Louis
at that instant vanished; he sprang forward, and seized the young
savage by the collar, while his faithful little dog caught hold of
one of the straps of Mike's trowsers. This gave the infant some time
to escape, and with terrifying cries she ran toward the house. Her
mother came to the door in dreadful alarm, when seeing her nephew
closed up against the garden gate, by the powerful shoulders of Mike
Redman, (who had his hands clenched,) and the little dog howling at
his feet, in extreme pain, she called, in the agony of fear, upon
two men, who were looking out from the brewery yard, at the boys'
affray, to separate them. "Be aisy, Casper," said one, "and let the
boys fight it out, I'll jist step over and see the Frenchman clear
o' the fence." "Put I'll see de Frenchman clear o' Mike, Patrick;
mine hearts, de poy wouldn't stant no chance at all mit him." With
these separate intentions, they both sallied forth, and approached
the combatants. Pat released the Frenchman, but Mike, resisting the
interference of such authority, was knocked down by the German; who,
as an excuse for himself, when he was called upon by Mr. Redman to
relate the whole transaction, offered this:--"In my country, de poys
are prought up to mind the sayins o' pigger people." Mr. Redman, who
was not himself an unjust man, admitted the apology, and soon after,
considering, perhaps, though it was then too late, that he did not
properly control his vicious propensities, while he exposed them to
continual increase in the contaminating sphere around him, he sent
Michael to school at a distance from home, and recompensed his little
neighbour, by many acts of kindness, for the cruel oppression of his
son. When I asked the person, who told me this story, what became
of the two boys in after life, he said, Michael Redman inherited a
large property, which he soon spent; after this he went to sea; and
I would, probably, never have learned his final fate, had he not
been announced in the newspapers, some years after, with an _alias_
to his name, among a number of men who were executed for piracy. In
process of time, Louis Leroy married his young cousin Susette; and
proved, through a long course of years, his filial affection to her
parents. He contrived to add to his small patrimony by several useful
inventions, which were patented in the state. He reared up a numerous
family, with the same frugal and temperate habits that he had been
taught, and under the same roof which had sheltered his own boyhood;
while all the other habitations that had risen around him were
constantly changing their owners and inmates. Behold the just end of
"Le Loup et L'Agneau."
THE CHRISTMAS VISIT.
"Come hither, Emily," said Mrs. Osman to her daughter, a little girl
about six years old, who had just returned from school; "Come hither,
for I have something to tell you."
"What is it, mamma? Have you had a letter from papa? and is he coming
home soon?"
"No, that is not it, though I hope your papa will now very soon be
home again; but it is that your friend, Mrs. Cassy, has just been
here, to invite you to spend the day with her on Christmas day, to
meet your friend Julia."
"Oh! delightful, how very kind Mrs. Cassy is!" said the little girl
with great animation.
"She is, indeed! And though the object of this invitation is to give
Julia a treat before she leaves the country, which you know she will
now soon do, as her mamma has sent for her, to return home with her
uncle who is to set off in a few days: yet it will, I am sure, be
quite as great a pleasure to yourself; for though Mrs. Cassy has no
children of her own, you know how much pains she always takes to make
her house pleasant to her little visiters."
"Oh, yes! I remember the last time we were there, she had a large
baby for us, that she had dressed herself. And it had a beautiful
frock and cap, and a pair of socks, just like those that my little
sister Emma wears; and we played at its being sick; and then Mrs.
Cassy made a scramble of raisins and sugarplums, and a great many
other good things, and we had such fun in picking them up! Oh! it was
delightful. I hope you will let me go, mamma!"
"Yes! upon one condition."
"Oh! I know what that condition will be. It will be about my tickets
for good conduct."
"Yes, you are quite right. You know, Emily, your great fault is
idling. You are apt to spend your time idling when you ought to be
attending to your lessons. But if you get----"
"A ticket every day for good conduct," interrupted the little girl.
"Yes! I am sure you will not receive a ticket for good conduct unless
your lessons have been properly attended to, and your behaviour in
school has been such as it ought to be; and therefore your going
to Mrs. Cassy's must depend upon your tickets for good conduct. It
only wants two days to Christmas day, and if you can bring me a
ticket each day for good conduct you shall go: but if not, you must
be content to stay at home. It is a very short time for you to keep
watch over yourself, so that if you fail, I am sure even your friend
Mrs. Cassy herself will not think that you deserve to partake of her
kindness."
"Oh! if it only depends upon my getting two tickets for good conduct,
I am sure I shall go," returned the little Emily, clapping her hands
with pleasure. "Let me see! This is Monday evening; there is only
Tuesday and Wednesday; and on Wednesday we shall have school only
half the day; so that I shall have to watch myself only a very short
time."
"True, Emily, it will only be a very short time, and therefore the
terms on which your going depends are not, you see, very severe;
but yet that time, short as it is, may be of great service to you,
as every time you try, you do something toward forming a habit of
attention; and besides, if you succeed, you will both please me,
and prove to your friend Mrs. Cassy that you know how to value her
kindness."