THE THIEF OF TIME.
When Lubin had said that he would not spend much Time money at Amusement
bazaar, he had fully intended to keep his word. He meant to go steadily
on his walk to Education, or, as we might call it, "do his lessons," so
soon as he had had a little diversion. But let me advise all my dear
young readers to put off their visits to Mrs. Amusement's till they have
spent such hours as business requires in the town of Education. Let them
count their money before they set out, spend a good portion of it wisely
and well, and then, with light hearts and easy consciences, they may go
to refresh and enjoy themselves at Mrs. Amusement's bazaar.
Which of us does not know that bazaar? It lies on the further side of
hill Puzzle, very near to the cottages of Head, and a beautiful large
cherry-tree hangs its branches over the door. The house is not lofty,
but low and wide, with a multitude of bright little windows. It is
divided within into numerous stalls, each possessing separate
attractions. There is one much frequented by boys, where bats and balls,
bows and arrows, models of boats, and little brass guns are seen in
great profusion. At another stall there are pretty dolls of every size
and shape, wooden, wax, and gutta-percha; some made to open and shut
their eyes, and some to utter a sound. There are few prettier sights
than that of a number of rosy, good-humoured children, who have finished
their lessons well, and are going, each with a bright hour or two in his
hand, to the bazaar of Mrs. Amusement.
The stall that most attracted fat Lubin was one at which sweetmeats were
sold: raspberry, strawberry, pine-apple drops, bull's-eye, pink rock,
and chocolate sticks, barley-sugar twisted into shapes more various than
I can describe or remember. Lubin had taken his five minutes in his
hand, and now spent them easily enough; but there were more, oh, many
more things that he thought that he would like from the stall. He went
humming on as he examined the sweetmeats a favourite proverb of his,
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." But the fat little dunce
might have added, "All play and no work will make Lubin a duller."
Full of interest in all that he saw, with his eyes greedily fixed on
the stall, Lubin did not notice a lean, small figure, which, softly as a
serpent on the grass, had stolen up to his side. This was no other than
Procrastination, a pickpocket well known to the police, who had often
been caught in the very act of robbing her Majesty's subjects of Time,
had been tried and sent to prison, but on getting out had always
returned to his bad occupation again. The poet Young long ago set up a
placard to warn men to take care of their pockets, giving notice to all
concerned that "_Procrastination is the thief of Time_;" but, in spite
of this warning, there are few amongst us who must not own with regret
that the stealthy hand of Procrastination has robbed us of many an hour.
Have you never suffered from Procrastination, good reader? It is he who
makes us _put off_ till to-morrow what ought to be done to-day. It is he
who whispers, "It will be time enough," when a duty should be performed
directly. If you are aware, at this very moment, while you sit with this
book in your hand, that you ought to be busy with Arithmetic, or should
write a letter to a friend, or do some little piece of business, start
up without an instant's delay, shut this book with a clap; perhaps you
may then catch between its leaves the sly fingers of thief
Procrastination.
Poor Lubin was not on his guard: he noticed not the form that crept
after him as noiselessly as a shadow. Procrastination took the
opportunity when the boy's attention was most engaged with the
sweetmeats, to draw out Time's fairy purse, and rifle it of its precious
contents. Silently then he replaced the purse emptied for that day, in
hopes, perhaps, that when the morrow filled it with new hours and
minutes, he might rob its possessor again of the treasure which he
guarded so badly.
"Well, now," exclaimed Lubin, "I can't stop much longer, for I promised
Nelly to follow her quickly, and I know that I ought to be at Mr.
Arithmetic's by this time. I'll just spend two or three minutes more on
those sugar-plums shaped like marbles, and then away to my business and
work like a man."
So Lubin plunged his fat hand into his pocket, and drew forth his purse
of Time. In went his fingers, fumbling about to pull out the minutes
that he wanted, but he fumbled and felt in vain--not an hour was
left--not a single little minute, to pay for what he required.
"It's that rogue Procrastination who has robbed me!" exclaimed the
indignant boy, as turning sharply round he caught a glimpse of a slim
little figure sneaking round the corner of a counter.
Lubin instantly gave chase. Fat as he was, it was wonderful to see how
he dodged the pickpocket, first round this stall, then round that,
shouting all the time, "Stop, thief! stop, thief!" as loudly as he could
bawl. I need scarcely add that all the boy's efforts were useless. Who
ever yet recovered lost Time? Out of breath and out of heart, poor Lubin
stopped panting at last; Procrastination had had a fair start, and
carried off his spoil in triumph.
"There's no use in attempting to go to Education to-day, I've not a
minute left," was Lubin's sorrowful reflection. "Oh, that I had started
with my sister, had thought of my business before my play, what useful
things I might then have bought with the hours which are now lost to me
for ever!"