Now there was in Rollo’s house a small back garret, over a part of the
kitchen chamber, which had one small window in it, looking out into the
garden. This garret was not used, and Rollo’s father had put a little
rocking-chair there, and a small table with a Bible on it, and hung
some old maps about it, so as to make it as pleasant a little place as
he could; and there he used to send Rollo when he had done any thing
very wrong, or when he was sullen and ill natured, that he might
reflect in solitude, and either return a good boy, or else stay where
his bad feelings would not trouble or injure others. His father had put
in marks, too, at several places in the Bible, where he thought it
would be well for him to read at such times; as he said that reading
suitable passages in the Bible would be more likely to bring him to
repentance, than any other book.
Rollo knew that when his father told him to go away by himself, he
meant for him to go into this back garret. So he turned round and
walked out of the room. As he passed up the back stairs, the kitten
came frisking around him, but he had no heart to play with her, and
walked on. He then turned and went up the narrow, steep stairs that led
to the garret; they were rather more like a ladder than like stairs.
Rollo ascended them, and then sat down in the little rocking-chair. The
rain was beating against the windows, and pattering on the roof which
was just over his head.
It is sometimes but a little thing which turns the whole current of the
thoughts and feelings. In Rollo’s case, at this time, it was but a drop
of water. For after having sat some time in his chair, his heart
remaining pretty nearly the same, a drop of water, which, somehow or
other, contrived to get through some crevice in the boards and shingles
over his head, fell exactly into the back of his neck. The first
feeling it occasioned was an additional emotion of impatience and
fretfulness. But he next began to think how unreasonable and wicked it
was to make all that difficulty, just because his father was preventing
his going out to stay all day in the rain, when a single drop falling
upon him vexed and irritated him.
[Illustration]
He also looked out of the window towards the garden, and the dry
ground, and all the trees and garden vegetables seemed to be drinking
in the rain with delight. That made him think of the vast amount of
good the rain was doing, and he saw his own selfishness in a striking
point of view. In a word Rollo was now beginning to be really penitent.
The tears came into his eyes; but they were tears of real sorrow for
sin, not of vexation and anger.
He took up his little Bible, to read one of the passages, as his father
had advised him. He happened to open at a mark which his father had put
in at the parable of the prodigal son. The first verse which his eye
fell upon, was the verse, “I will arise and go to my father.” Rollo
thought that that was exactly the thing for him to do—to go and confess
his fault to his father.
So he laid down his little Bible, wiped the tears from his eyes, and
went down stairs. He met his father in the entry. He went up to him,
and took his hand, and said,
“Father, I am really very sorry I have been so naughty; I _will try_ to
be a good boy now.”
His father stooped down and kissed him. “I am very glad to hear it,
Rollo,” said he. “Now you may go and find Lucy. I believe she is up in
your mother’s chamber.”
Rollo went off quite happy in pursuit of Lucy. He found her sitting on
a cricket in his mother’s room, looking over a little picture-book.
Rollo ran laughing up to her, and said,
“What have you got, Lucy?”
“One of your little picture-books. Will you lend it to me to carry
home?”
Rollo said he would, and then they began to talk about what they should
do. It rained very fast, and they could not go out of doors; and, after
proposing several things, which, however, neither of them seemed to
like, they turned to Rollo’s mother, and asked her what they had better
do.
“I always find,” said his mother, “that when I am disappointed of any
pleasure, it is best not to try to find any other pleasure in its
place, but to turn to _duty_.”
The children did not understand this very well, and they were silent.
“What I mean,” she continued, “is this: When we have just been
disappointed of any pleasure which we had set our hearts upon, it is
very difficult to find any thing else that we can have in its place,
that will look as pleasant as the one we had lost. You see that you are
not satisfied with any thing you propose to one another. Now, I find
that the best way, in such cases, is to give up pleasure altogether,
and turn to some duty; and after performing the duty a short time,
peace and satisfaction return to the mind again, and we get over the
effects of the disappointment in the quickest and pleasantest way.”
Rollo and Lucy looked at one another rather soberly. They did not seem
to know what to say.
“I presume, however, you will not do this,” continued his mother.
“Why?” said Rollo.
“Because,” said his mother, “it requires a good deal of resolution, at
first, to turn to _duty_ when you have just been setting your heart on
_pleasure_.”
“O, we have got resolution enough,” said Rollo.
“What duty do you think we had better do?” asked Lucy.
“If I were you,” replied Rollo’s mother, “I should first of all sit
down and have a good reading lesson.”
Rollo and Lucy hesitated a little, but they concluded to take their
mother’s advice at last, and went to Rollo’s little library, and chose
a book, and then went down to the back entry, and sat down there, on a
long cricket, and began to read.
At first, it was rather hard to do it, for it did not look very
pleasant to either of them to sit down and read, just at the time when
they expected to be gathering blueberries on the mountain. Rollo said,
when they were opening the hook and finding the place, that, if they
had gone, they should, by that time, have just about arrived at the
foot of the mountain.
“Yes,” said Lucy, “but we must not think of that now. Besides, just see
how it rains. It would be a fine time now to go up a mountain, wouldn’t
it?”
Rollo looked out of the open door, and saw the rain pouring down into
the yard, and felt again ashamed to recollect how he had insisted that
it was not going to rain.
Lucy said it was beautiful to see it pouring down so fast. “Look,” said
she; “how it streams down from the spout at the corner of the barn!”
“Yes,” said Rollo, “and see that little pond out by the garden gate.
How it is all full of little bubbles! It will be a beautiful pond for
me to sail boats in, when the rain is over. I can make paper-boats and
pea boats!”
“Pea boats?” said Lucy; “what are pea-boats?”
“O! they are beautiful little boats,” said he. “Jonas showed me how to
make them. We take a pea-pod, a good large full pea-pod, and shave off
the top from one end to the other, and then take out the peas, and it
makes a beautiful little boat. I wish we had some; I could show you.”
“Let us make some when we have done reading, and sail them. Only that
pond will all go away when the rain is over.”
“O no,” said Rollo, “I will put some ground all around it, and then the
water cannot run away.”
“Yes, but it will soak down into the ground.”
“Will it?” said Rollo. “Well, we can sail our boats on it a little
while before it is gone.”
“But it is so wet,” said Lucy, “we cannot go out to get any pea-pods.”
“I did not think of that,” said Rollo. “Perhaps Jonas could get some
for us, with an umbrella.”
“_I_ could go with an umbrella,” said Lucy, “just as well as not.”
The children saw an umbrella behind the door, and they thought they
would go both together, and they actually laid down their book, spread
the umbrella, and went to the door. It then occurred to them that it
would not be quite right to go out, without leave; so Rollo went to ask
his mother.
His mother said it was not suitable for young ladies to go out in the
rain, as their shoes, and their dress generally, were thin, and could
not bear to be exposed to wet; but she said that Rollo himself might
take off his shoes and stockings, and go out alone, when the rain held
up.
“But, mother,” said he, “why cannot I go out now, with the umbrella?”
“Because,” she replied, “when it rains fast, some of the water spatters
through the umbrella, and some will be driven against you by the wind.”
“Well, I will wait, and as soon as it rains but little, I will go out.
But must I take off my shoes and stockings?”
“Yes,” said his mother, “or else you will get them wet and muddy. And
before you go you must get a dipper of water ready in the shed, to pour
on your feet, and wash them, when you get back; and then wait till they
are entirely dry, before you put on your shoes and stockings again. If
you want the pea-pods enough to take all that trouble, you may go for
them.”
Rollo said he did want them enough for that, and he then went back and
told Lucy what his mother had said, and they concluded to read until
the rain should cease, and that then Rollo should go out into the
garden.
They began to read; but their minds were so much upon the pea-pod
boats, that the story did not interest them very much. Besides,
children cannot read very well aloud, to one another; for if they
succeed in calling all the words right, they do not generally give the
stops and the emphasis, and the proper tones of voice, so as to make
the story interesting to those that hear. Some boys and girls are vain
enough to think that they can read very well, just because they can
call all the words without stopping to spell them; but this is very far
from being enough to make a good reader.
Rollo read a little way, and then Lucy read a little way; but they were
not much interested, and thinking that the difficulty might be in the
book, they got another, but with no better success. At last Rollo said
they would go and get their mother to read to them. So they went
together to her room, and Rollo said that they could not get along very
well in rending themselves, and asked her if she would not be good
enough to read to them.
“Why, what is the difficulty?” said she.
“O, I do not know, exactly: the story is not very interesting, and then
we cannot read very well.”
“In what respect will it be better for me to read to you?” she asked.
“Why, mother, you can choose us a prettier story; and then we should
understand it better if you read it.”
“I suppose you would; but I see you have made a great mistake.”
“What mistake?” said both the children at once.
“Why is it that you are going to read at all?”
“Why, you advised us to, mother.”
“Did I advise you to do it as a _duty_, or as a _pleasure_?”
“As a _duty_, mother; I recollect now.” said Rollo.
“Yes: well, now the mistake you have made is, that you are looking upon
it only as a pleasure, and instead of doing it faithfully, in such a
way as will make it most useful to you, you are forgetting that
altogether, and only intent upon having it interesting and pleasant. Is
it not so?”
“Why—yes,” said Rollo, hesitating, and looking down; and then turning
round to Lucy, he said, “I suppose we had better go and read the story
ourselves.”
“Do just as you please,” said his mother. “I have not commanded you to
read, but only recommended it; and that not as a way of _interesting_
you, but as a way of spending an hour _usefully_, as a preparation for
an hour of enjoyment afterwards. You can do as you please, however; but
if you attempt to read at all, I advise you to do it not as _play_, but
as a _lesson_.”
“Well, come, Rollo,” said Lucy, “let us go.”
So the children ran back to the entry, and sat down to their story,
taking pains to read carefully, as if their object was to learn to
read; and though they did not expect it, they did, in fact, have a very
pleasant time.
The rest of the adventures of Rollo and Lucy, during this day must be
reserved for another story.