CHAPTER L 
 
 HOW PHILIP ASHLEY WISHED, AND WHAT 
 CAME OF IT. 
 
 i Mother, I wish father would bring plenty 
 of money with him when he comes home 
 again/ 
 
 ' Why do you wish that, Philip 1 9 
 
 6 Oh, because it would be so nice to be 
 rich, and I could have such lots of play- 
 things, and eat as much fruit as I liked y 
 and ride about on a pony.' 
 
 ' And do you think that would make 
 you contented % 7 
 
 c Oh, yes, mother ; I have been reading 
 about a young gentleman whose father had 
 plenty of money, and lived in a fine house 
 in a park. How nice it would be ! 5 
 
 ' I rather fear, Philip, that even then 
 you would not leave off wishing.' 
 
 i Yes, mother, that I should ; because 
 you know when people have all they want, 
 there is no use in wishing for any thing 
 else. 5 
 
 c Quite true, my little boy, there is no 
 need for wishing, as you say ; but still 
 people are not easily satisfied ; no sooner 
 do they get one thing which they fancy 
 will make them completely happy, than 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 5 
 
 they find themselves just as far from hap- 
 piness as they were before, and so they gt* 
 on wishing and wishing all their lives.' 
 
 ' Ah, but ' — said Philip, hesitatingly, as 
 though he did not well know what to say 
 — 6 1 am quite sure I should stop when I 
 had all I wished for.' 
 
 6 You think so now, my dear ; but you 
 will be wiser, I hope, by-and-by ; and now 
 you had better go on with your lesson/ 
 
 Philip looked down on the book which 
 he held in his hand, but he could not fix 
 his mind on the task ; it was much plea- 
 ranter to wish for fruit, and toys, and a 
 pony ; and he could not help thinking that 
 his own opinion about wishing was a very 
 much better one than his mother's. 
 
 While Philip is thus thoughtlessly wast- 
 ing his time, I may as well tell you some- 
 thing about him and his parents. His 
 father, Mr. Ashley, was a medical man, 
 and for several years had been surgeon on 
 board a ship that sailed from London to 
 the East Indies, and back. This long 
 voyage took up so many months, that he 
 could only enjoy the pleasure of being with 
 his wife and little boy for a few weeks at 
 a time, about once a year, or not quite so 
 often. Thus it happened that Philip and 
 his mother were left very much to them- 
 selves, and at times the thought of the 
 beloved one, so far away on the w T ide ocean, 
 made them feel melancholy, for they could 
 not help fancying that some danger might 
 
6 
 
 WISHING AND WOB&IKft. 
 
 Happen to prevent their ever seeing him 
 again. Still one of their greatest pleasures 
 was to talk about Mm, and to count the 
 months and weeks to the time of his ex- 
 pected return. 
 
 Mr. Ashley was not rich ; he had had 
 many difficulties to contend with in life,, 
 mostly from want of prudence on his part, 
 and what he now earned was not more 
 than just enough for the wants of his 
 famity, and great care was required in 
 order to make their money last from one 
 year's end to another. To avoid the ex- 
 pensiveness of living in London, they had 
 taken a house in the pleasant little town 
 of Oakton, and it was in the back parlour 
 of this house that the conversation which 
 you have just read took place between 
 Philip and his mother. 
 
 Mrs. Ashley was what some people call 
 a good sort of woman ; she did not put 
 herself out of the way about trifles, which 
 means that she liked to have as little 
 trouble as possible. She was best satisfied 
 with Philip when he would sit quite still 
 and make no noise ; but if he wanted 
 to ask questions, or to romp, or be very 
 merry, she was too apt to call him trouble- 
 some. Yet in some respects she was sen- 
 sible, and kind-hearted, and loved Philip 
 very much. She would hear him recite his 
 lessons, and taught him to say his prayers ; 
 but in some way her love did not seem to 
 be of the right sort. When Philip did 
 
wrong, she was more often vexed that her 
 son should have demeaned himself, as she 
 said, than grieved at his having forgotten 
 to do what was right. 
 
 Having told you thus much about Philip 
 and his father and mother, I may now go 
 on with my story. We left the boy, as 
 you will remember, not very well satisfied 
 with what his mother had said to him, 
 and so he continued to sit for a short time 
 longer, when all at once he jumped up, 
 exclaiming — - c Oh, mother ! the goldfinch ! ' 
 
 6 Well, Philip, what of the goldfinch ? has 
 the little creature begun to sing yet V 
 
 6 It is not old enough to sing yet/ an- 
 swered Philip ; ' but I am afraid it is very 
 hungry. May I go and look, mother V 
 
 c Yes, you may go ; but don't stay long, 
 or else you will not have learnt your lesson 
 before dinner/ 
 
 Philip laid down his book and hastened 
 from the room ; and while he is gone, I 
 may tell you that for several months pre- 
 viously, he had been wishing day after day 
 for a goldfinch. He had once seen some 
 boys returning from the country with a 
 cage full of the pretty little creatures, and 
 the sight of them set Philip thinking it 
 would be 4 so nice' to have one, and from 
 thinking he got to wishing, and as usual, 
 gave his mother no peace until she had 
 bought a goldfinch for him. Before con- 
 senting to do so, however, she made Philip 
 promise to be very attentive to the bird, 
 
8 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 to feed it and clean out the cage regularly 
 every morning, and he had assured her 
 that he never should forget that duty ; it 
 would be so nice to have a goldfinch. 
 
 Well, the goldfinch was bought, and 
 great was Philip's joy when he actually 
 held the cage in his own hands ; he did 
 not know how to leave off admiring the 
 pretty bird with its bright eye, and red, 
 black, and yellow markings, showing so 
 beautifully among its brown plumage. He 
 ran round and round the table on which 
 the cage was placed when first brought 
 home, peeping in on one side and then on 
 the other, and trying to think of a name 
 for the timid little captive. At last he 
 thought that 6 Tittie ' would be a very 
 good name, and then, as his first burst of 
 pleasure was over, his mother permitted 
 him to carry the cage down to a little 
 summer-house at the end of the garden, 
 where it was to be kept to prevent making 
 a litter in the house, and where Philip was 
 to feed it and clean out the cage punctually 
 every morning, 
 
 I think it very likely that nearly all 
 little boys and girls who read this book 
 will remember the pleasure which some 
 new object has afforded them ; for the first 
 few days they scarcely think or talk of any 
 thing else ; but little by little the charm 
 wears off, and the pleasure is lost. So it 
 happened with Philip : it was about three 
 weeks since he had carried the goldfinch to 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 9 
 
 the summer-house, and during the first half 
 of this period he had been very attentive to 
 the young warbler, and was delighted to 
 hear its pert attempts to chirp ; but about 
 the thirteenth day, instead of visiting 
 Tittie immediately after breakfast as 
 had been his practice, he was drawn to 
 the front window by the sound of a drum 
 and fife, and there the sight of a monkey 
 and some dancing dogs drove the thought 
 of the bird out of his mind for all the rest 
 of the day. 
 
 When a habit is once broken, it is not 
 easy to mend it again : the next morning 
 Philip did not remember the goldfinch 
 until near dinner-time, and then all at 
 once he felt a little alarmed and ran down 
 the garden as quickly as possible. Poor 
 Tittie set up a chirp on seeing him for all 
 the water was gone from the glass, nothing 
 but husks was left in the seed-trough, the 
 cage smelt badly from not having been 
 cleaned, and Philip felt quite sorry to see 
 that his little favourite seemed weak and 
 weary. He lost no time in repairing his 
 error, and when he saw how eagerly Tittie 
 dipped its bill into the water and held up 
 its pretty head that the cool drops might 
 trickle down its throat, and how busily it 
 began to crack the seeds in the trough, 
 then he wished that he had not forgotten 
 to feed it the day before, and felt sure he 
 should not forget it again. But somehow 
 or other Philip's wishes did not bear good 
 fruit, they were barren ; just the same as ii 
 
10 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 a farmer should wish for a field of corn to 
 grow without first taking the pains to 
 sow the seed ; and the consequence was, 
 that although our little boy did think of 
 his goldfinch on the next morning, he 
 forgot entirely after that, and did not re- 
 member it again until the day in which 
 we meet with him in this chapter. 
 
 As Mrs. Ashley sat at the window, she 
 saw Philip looking very much surprised 
 and alarmed coming towards the house 
 with the cage in his hand. He brought it 
 into the room, and said in a timorous voice 
 — ' Oh, mother, do tell me what is the 
 matter with my bird : is it asleep V 
 
 Mrs. Ashley looked into the cage as 
 Philip held it before her, and there she 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 11 
 
 saw poor Tittie lying on its back on the 
 sand at the bottom, with dim eyes, and its 
 slender little legs stretched stifiy upwards. 
 The sight caused her much pain, and she 
 replied ; — ' I fear, Philip, that you have 
 been very neglectful : the pretty goldfinch 
 is dead.' 
 
 'Dead!' exclaimed Philip, 'how can it 
 be dead, mother V and while he spoke, it 
 seemed as though a painful sob were chok- 
 ing him in his throat, and all at once he 
 burst into tears. He stood the cage on the 
 floor, and sitting down by the side of it, 
 wept sadly and sorrowfully for nearly half- 
 an-hour. 
 
 Philip's mother felt really grieved at the 
 death of the little bird, and reproached 
 herself for having trusted too much to her 
 son ; for some time she did not speak, 
 hoping that the loss would make the boy 
 more careful in future. At last she said : 
 — 6 Come Philip, leave off crying, and 1 
 will help you to make a pasteboard coffin 
 to bury poor Tittie in. 
 
 Philip got up from the floor and watched 
 his mother as she sewed the pieces of card 
 together ; he shed a few more tears when 
 the once prized bird was shut up inside 
 the little coffin, then taking it in his hand 
 he went down the garden, and after digging 
 a hole in a dry sunshiny corner, he placed 
 it carefully in, and covered it over gently 
 for fear of crushing it. He drew the earth 
 together at the surface, so as to make a 
 small mound shaped like those which coyer 
 
12 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 graves, and at one end of this he fastened a 
 short stick upright in the ground. Philip 
 next went in-doors, and having asked his 
 mother for a small piece of card, he cut it 
 into the shape of a tombstone, and wrote 
 upon it as an epitaph, Poor Tittie, a Gold- 
 pinch, Died June, 1837. When the ink 
 was dry, he went once more to the garden 
 and fixed the tombstone, as he called it, in 
 a slit made in the stick placed at the end 
 of the little grave. When this was done 
 he stood looking at it, while the bright 
 warm sunshine lit up the flower-beds and 
 the trees, making all nature look cheerful ; 
 and yet Philip's heart was sad. 
 
 ' 1 wish it had not died,' he said, after 
 standing some time in silence. 
 
 Ah, Philip, Philip ! if you had fed your 
 bird it would not have died. It is of no use 
 wishing we had not done wrong unless we 
 strive to do right for the future. It is of 
 no use to wish for a thing unless we are 
 willing to strive in the right way to ob- 
 tain it. 
 
 About a week after the death and burial 
 of poor Tittie, Mrs- Ashley had occasion to 
 go to a town a few miles off on some busi- 
 ness that would occupy her the whole day, 
 and as she was unable to take Philip with 
 her, he was left at home in charge of the 
 servant. She out immediately after 
 breakfast, and having to walk about a 
 mile to the cross-road where the stage- 
 coach passed every morning, she took 
 Philip with her for that distance. He knew 
 
WISHING AND W0KKING. 
 
 13 
 
 the road very well, and could find his way 
 back alone, and as they walked along she 
 cautioned him against delay on his return, 
 and bade him not leave the house after- 
 wards for the rest of the day. Philip 
 promised obedience ; the coach came up 
 ahiiost as soon as they reached the cross- 
 road ; Mrs. Ashley kissed her little boy, 
 and getting up on one of the hinder seats 
 by the side of the guard, was soon carried 
 out of Philip's sight, lie then turned to 
 walk back along the lane to Oakton ; it 
 was a pleasant clay, the sun shone brightly, 
 and a breeze made music among the leafy 
 branches of the trees that overshadowed 
 the narrow road. At one part of the lane 
 a small stream ran across it, over which 
 the road passed by a bridge. When Philip 
 came to the bridge he stopped to look at 
 the clear running water ; it was so bright 
 that he could count all the pebbles at the 
 bottom, and to his great delight he saw 
 hundreds of minnows darting about in all 
 directions. The sight w r as too great a 
 temptation for Philip, and forgetting his 
 promise to his mother to make haste home, 
 he stood still, watching the movements o£ 
 the little fishes, and he began to think it 
 would be so nice to carry some of them 
 home and set them swimming in the 
 water-butt. 
 
 ' I wish I had a fishing-rod/ he said b* 
 himself. 
 
 Just then he heard his name shouted a* 
 a distance; and turning his head hastily 
 
14 
 
 WISHING AND "WORKING. 
 
 he saw a boy standing on a heap of stones 
 beckoning eagerly to him. 
 
 Philip cast one more look at the min- 
 nows, and ran off' ; as he came near to the 
 other boy, he saw that it was Willy 
 Thompson, with whom he used sometimes 
 to play on the green near to his mother's 
 house. 6 What do you want, Willy V asked 
 Philip, as he came up almost out of breath, 
 
 c I have been looking for you ever so 
 long,' answered Willy, ' your maid told me 
 I should meet you here in the lane. 5 
 
 ' But why did you call me away from 
 looking at the minnows V rejoined Philip, 
 in rather a vexed tone. 
 
 c Something better than minnows,' said 
 Willy, 6 wouldn't you like to go a-fishing 
 with me in the Greenford ponds.' 
 
 1 That I should,' exclaimed Philip, ' but 
 I have no rod or line/ 
 
 ' Never mind that,' answered his com- 
 panion, ' I have got a sixpence, and we can 
 buy rods and lines as we go along.' 
 
 Ah, Philip, Philip ! have you so soon 
 forgotten your promise, and what happened 
 to poor little Tittie ? 
 
 Philip did not wish to pass his home lest 
 the servant should see him and call him 
 in, so the two boys went by a backway, 
 and after purchasing two rods with lines 
 and hooks, they set off for the Greenford 
 ponds, about two miles distant. 
 
 By the time they arrived, it was the 
 dinner-hour, neither of them had had any 
 thing to eat, and they felt hungry. Once 
 
WISHING AND 
 
 WORKING. 
 
 15 
 
 or. twice, too, Philip felt something like 
 a painful flash across his mind that he 
 was doing wrong in thus disobeying his 
 mother's commands ; but then he tried to 
 comfort himself with the thought that he 
 could be home before his mother came 
 back, and the hope that Susan, the servant, 
 would not tell of his undutifulness. So the 
 two boys prepared their tackle, and found 
 some worms in a dung-heap, with which 
 they baited their hooks. The sight of 
 perch and roach swimming about in the 
 pond made them leap for joy, and they be- 
 lieved that very soon some of the beautiful 
 scaly creatures would be safe in their 
 hands. They threw in their lines, but the 
 fish seemed to take no notice, and our young 
 fishermen found that wishing they would 
 bite did not make them bite. They kept 
 on a long time till their patience was well 
 nigh exhausted, when Willy proposed that 
 they should go round to the steep bank on 
 the opposite side, where there appeared to 
 be hundreds of fish. Philip assented, and 
 with some difficulty they climbed up the 
 bank at a place where the water was very 
 deep. A tall fence rose in their rear, be- 
 hind which they heard the noise of a man 
 digging. Philip took his stand on a small 
 level space, and seeing a large fish at a 
 distance, he leaned forward to throw his 
 bait towards it, when, losing his balance, 
 he fell, with a loud splash, and a cry of 
 affright from Willy, into the deep dark 
 water. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW PHILIP WAS NOT DROWNED, AND ABOUT 
 A LETTER AND A JOURNEY. 
 
 Great was Willy's terror, you may be 
 sure, as he saw his playmate disappear 
 in the pond, and loud were his cries for 
 assistance. Scarcely, however, had the 
 first alarm been given, than the gardener ? 
 who had been working on the other side 
 of the fence, came running out by a narrow 
 door with a pole and rope in his hand, and 
 hastened to the spot where Willy stood in 
 noisy lamentation. Just as the man came 
 up, Philip re-appeared at the surface, 
 throwing his arms about in wild attempts 
 to seize hold of something. He had fallen 
 in close to the bank, so that the gardener 
 had only to stretch out the pole a little 
 way to reach Philip's hand. As soon as 
 the struggling boy felt something that 
 seemed to offer support, he grasped it with 
 such force that you would have thought 
 his fingers would squeeze themselves into 
 the wood, 
 
 - That's just it,' said the gardener ; 
 ' drowning people are sure to hold on 
 tight enough when they once get a grip.' 
 
 ' Oh, sir,' sobbed Willy, £ do you think 
 you will be able to get him out ? ' 
 
 6 I'll try hard for it, my little man/ was 
 the answer ; * he is not the first boy that 
 
WISHING AND WOKKING. 
 
 17 
 
 I have been the means of saving in this 
 same place.' 
 
 While the gardener spoke, he drew 
 Philip softly to the shore, where the ter- 
 rified boy could keep his head above 
 water, and recover breath. Then, as the 
 bank was very steep and high, he managed 
 to make Willy hold the upper end of the 
 pole, while he fastened the rope round the 
 stem of a tree that grew near, and holding 
 on by this, he scrambled down to the edge 
 of the water, where he seized Philip by the 
 collar of his jacket, and after some trouble 
 got up to the top again. The gardener 
 seemed to know what to do, for he took 
 the dripping boy up in his arms, and car- 
 ried him hastily to his cottage a short dis- 
 tance off*. Willy's heart grew lighter when 
 he saw his unfortunate companion lifted 
 from the water, although he still felt alarm 
 at his pale and death-like appearance. As 
 they went along, he remembered having 
 heard that persons when saved from drown- 
 ing should be held up by the heels to let 
 the water run out of them, and he recom- 
 mended the gardener to try the experiment 
 on Philip. 
 
 i All nonsense,' said the blunt but kind- 
 hearted man, 'I know better than that. 
 You run off as hard as you can to Oakton, 
 and ask Dr. Young to come up here di- 
 rectly. 5 
 
 Willy did not wait to be told twice, for 
 he really loved Philip, and blamed himself 
 
18 
 
 WISHING AND WOItKING. 
 
 as the cause of the accident, so off he set 
 as fast as his legs would carry him. 
 
 The gardener meantime had carried 
 Philip into the house, and having bade his 
 wife hang a blanket to warm in front ot' 
 the fire, and fill some bottles with hot 
 water, he stripped off the poor boy's wet 
 clothes, and then laying him on a bed, 
 wiped his body quite dry with warm flan- 
 nels. He was then wrapped up closely in 
 the blanket, with a bottle of hot water 
 placed against the sole of each foot, and 
 one on each side under the arms. The 
 gardener next rubbed Philip's breast gently 
 up and down to bring on warmth, while 
 the wife poured a tea- spoonful or two of 
 weak brandy and water clown his throat, 
 and so well did they use the means which 
 they had seen practised on a former occa- 
 sion, that by the time Dr. Young drove up 
 with Willy in his gig, Philip had opened 
 his eyes and was able to speak. The doctor 
 felt the boy's pulse, and remarked that 
 there was but little left for him to do ex- 
 cept to give a few drops of medicine. He 
 commended the gardener and his wife for 
 the pains they had taken, and promised to 
 reward them on a fitting occasion ; but the 
 worthy couple replied, that the satisfaction 
 they felt at having saved the life of a fellow- 
 creature was a sufficient recompense. 
 
 c What you say, my friends, is quite true,' 
 answered the doctor ; 6 we ought always to 
 be ready to help one another, not for the 
 
WISHING JtKB WORKING. 
 
 19 
 
 sake of reward, but for the sake of doing 
 good. But I will take care that your hu- 
 manity shall not be altogether forgotten/ 
 
 At the end of an hour, Philip felt almost 
 well ; an additional blanket was then 
 wrapped round him, and over that the 
 doctor's cloak, and thus protected, he was 
 seated in the gig, with Willy on one side 
 of him and the doctor on the other, and so 
 was taken back to Oakton. 
 
 On reaching home Philip was put imme- 
 diately to bed, where after he had taken a 
 little gruel and a few more drops of medi- 
 cine, he soon fell asleep. 
 
 The doctor then drove off to the cross- 
 road in order to meet Mrs. Ashley, and by 
 explaining the circumstances to her, save 
 her from unnecessary alarm. She felt 
 grieved and uneasy on hearing what had 
 taken place in her absence, and could 
 hardly persuade herself that there was no 
 danger, until she saw Philip sleeping 
 quietly in his bed. Then her heart swelled 
 with love and thankfulness, and gratitude 
 towards those who had exerted themselves 
 to save her boy. She stooped to kiss his 
 half-open lips, and a few tears, drops of 
 affection warm from the mother's heart, 
 fell upon the sleeper's face. 
 
 There are times when adversity tries us, 
 when sorrow bows us down, and despair 
 darkens our hope ; but if we view such 
 trials aright, they become blessed teach- 
 ings to warn us of our follies and errors, 
 
20 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING 
 
 and to lead us to One, the only true Guide 
 and Comforter. 
 
 It was late when Philip woke the next 
 morning ; on opening his eyes he saw his 
 mother, who had been up many times to 
 look at him, just coming into the room 
 with a basin of warm bread and milk for 
 his breakfast. The sight of her had always 
 been a pleasure to him, but now he felt 
 half afraid to lift his eye to her's, or to 
 speak a light-hearted salutation as he had 
 been accustomed, and so he lay still with 
 downcast look. 
 
 6 Philip, my dear/ said his mother, sit- 
 ting on the bed-side, c how do you feel this 
 morning 1 5 
 
 This was spoken in a tone of so much 
 kindness, that Philip could not help turn- 
 ing his head, and when he saw nothing 
 but love in his mother's eyes, his own 
 filled with tears, and all he could say was 
 — 6 Oh, mother, can you forgive me ? 5 
 
 Mrs. Ashley was one of those who 
 thought that children ought to be severely 
 punished to render them obedient, and 
 frequently when vexed, without pausing 
 to reflect, she had made Philip's ears tingle, 
 or his back smart with stripes ; but at 
 times, before he had done crying, she 
 would take him in her arms, kiss him, and 
 promise to give him something nice if he 
 would dry his tears ; and all this, as she 
 thought, out «f love for her son. But 
 children very soon find out whether they 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 21 
 
 are punished justly, or only to gratify a 
 parent's vexation, and as they think it 
 quite right to imitate what their fathers 
 and mothers do, so they learn to quarrel 
 and fight with their playmates and com- 
 panions whenever they feel irritated. True 
 love shows itself in wise guidance ; rather 
 than in fondling or caresses. 
 
 On this occasion, however, Mrs. Ashley's 
 feelings had been too deeply moved for her 
 to cherish anger ; her prevailing sentiment 
 was heartfelt joy at the safety of her boy, 
 so that when he asked if he could be for- 
 given, she replied, 6 Yes, Philip, I forgive 
 you ; but sit up now and eat your break- 
 fast/ 
 
 Philip tried to rise ; but found when he at- 
 tempted to move that his back was stiff and painful, 
 and his limbs had a feeling of soreness ; he was ob- 
 liged, therefore, to be propped up with pillows while 
 he ate his bread and milk, and he could not help 
 remembering that his helplessness was the conse- 
 quence of his own disobedience. Scarcely had he 
 finished eating when the doctor's knock was heard 
 at the door : the good physician had called to sea 
 how Philip was going on. It relieved Mrs. Ash* 
 ley's anxiety to hear that the little patient was 
 suffering from nothing more than a severe cold, 
 which would make it necessary for bim to lie in bed 
 for a day or two and take some medicine, after 
 which he would, perhaps, be quite well. Philip did 
 not much like the thought of lying still so long, 
 and losing all his playtime ; but there was no help 
 for it. 
 
 After prescribing the needful remedies, Dr. Young 
 said to Philip—' Well, rny boy, you have reason to. 
 
22 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 be thankful that the honest gardener was working 
 so near to the pond yesterday.' 
 
 6 Yes, sir/ answered Philip. 
 
 ' It was indeed most fortunate/ remarked his 
 mother. 
 
 ' Let us say more than that,' replied the doctor ; 
 ' we may consider it providential that the man who 
 took your son out of the water was one who knew 
 what means to use for his recovery. There are few 
 persons who would have acted so well, and our 
 grateful acknowledgments are due to that Being 
 " whose mercies are over all his works." ' 
 
 Mrs. Ashley felt the weight of the speaker's 
 words, and remained silent : Philip remembered 
 that he had not once thought of saying his prayers 
 that morning. 
 
 The doctor took Philip's hand. 6 This has been 
 a sharp lesson for you, my young friend,' he said, 
 6 1 trust you will not close your heart against it, but 
 strive for the future to act according to the words 
 of a hymn, which I dare say you have learned : — 
 
 ' Oh, that it were my chief delight 
 
 To do the things I ought ! 
 Then let me try with all my might 
 
 To mind what I am taught.' 
 
 and now good morning ; I shall hope to find you 
 much better to-morrow. 1 
 
 Philip had indeed learned the hymn which the 
 doctor quoted, but he had never regarded it as 
 any thing else but a lesson ; it had never entered 
 into his mind that he was to avoid doing wrong 
 because a hymn told him to do right. If he had 
 ever thought at all about the matter, it was that he 
 had only to do this, or to do that, as his father or 
 mother commanded. But now, as he lay all alone 
 for several hours in his bed-room, he began to un- 
 derstand that if he kept wise instructions in his 
 
WISHING AND WORKING* 
 
 23 
 
 mind, he would most likely be enabled to avoid 
 doing wrong when his parents were not by to direct 
 him. This was an important discovery, and the 
 more Philip thought about it, the more he felt that 
 it was true. 
 
 At the end of three days Philip was quite well 
 again, and performing his daily duties and exer- 
 cises. He was taking his first run round the gar- 
 den, when the pasteboard, monument which he had 
 erected in memory of Tittie caught his eye, and 
 made him pause. The death of the goldfinch, and 
 his own fall into the pond, both came before him 
 at once, and made his error appear doubly great, 
 and he felt almost sure that he should never do 
 wrong again. 
 
 "While he stood looking down on the little grave, 
 the verse which Dr. Young had so seasonably re- 
 minded him of came into his mind, and he was 
 saying it over to himself, when he heard some one 
 tapping against the window-pane ; he turned round, 
 and saw his mother in the back-parlour, holding 
 up a letter in one hand, and beckoning to him with 
 the other. 
 
 ' A letter from father!' cried Philip, joyfully 
 and away he ran to hear his mother read it. 
 
 The news, however, was not at all cheering.' 
 Mr. Ashley wrote from St. Helena, to let his wife 
 know that on touching at that port on his home- 
 ward voyage, circumstances had required him to ex- 
 change into another ship, and go back to Calcutta, 
 and therefore he would be deprived of the pleasure 
 of seeing her and his dear boy for nearly another 
 year. This was a great disappointment : Mrs. 
 Ashley was expecting the arrival of her husband 
 in the course of a few weeks, and now her hopes 
 must give place to the anxieties of waiting, and 
 long-continued separation. Notwithstanding the 
 
24 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 regrets at absence expressed in the letter, the 
 kind words and loving encouragements, and the 
 kisses which were to be given to Philip, both the 
 boy and his mother felt very sad. 
 
 There was another letter lying on the table ; 
 when Philip saw it, he said — ' Open that one, 
 mother ; perhaps it's another from father, to tell 
 us he is coming home after all.' 
 
 ' No, it is not his writing/ answered Mrs. 
 Ashley, as she broke the seal, looking first at the 
 post-mark, and then at the signature ; presently 
 •she spoke : — 'Well, what a surprise ! it is from 
 your aunt Davies at Eastham/ 
 
 Philip had often heard of his aunt, but had never 
 seen her: she had married a respectable mechanic 
 some years before, and thereby incurred the dis- 
 pleasure of the rest of her relatives, who considered 
 that she lowered herself by so doing. But although 
 the husband of her choice was only in a small way 
 of business at that time, he had since prospered, 
 and now he was as much looked up to as any 
 tradesman in Eastham. The sisters, however, 
 had not once met since the marriage. 
 
 When Mrs. Ashley had finished rending the 
 letter, she sat silent for a time, as though a struggle 
 were going on in her mind. At last she said, half 
 •speaking to herself, 6 Well, I hardly know if I can 
 venture to go.' 
 
 6 To Eastham, mother, to see aunt ?' asked 
 Philip, eagerly. 
 
 1 Yes, Philip, your father is not corning home, 
 as we hoped : perhaps a change would do us both 
 good. 5 
 
 fc ' When shall we go, mother? Ah, it will be 
 so nice.'' 
 
 It was then Friday: Mrs. Ashley considered 
 for a minute or two, and said she thought they 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 25 
 
 might be ready to set off on the following Monday 
 week . 
 
 1 How I wish Monday week were come/ cried 
 Philip, impatiently ; but no sooner had he spoken 
 the words, than he remembered his unfortunate 
 wishes concerning the goldfinch and the fishing- 
 rod. Then the verse about 6 chief delight 1 came 
 into his mind again, and he wished he had shown 
 more patience : seeing his mother looking at him 
 balf-reprovingly, he said — ' No, mother, I don't 
 wish the day was come ; I can wait. 1 
 
 In this Philip acted wisely, he began to show 
 that he had some knowledge cf what self-control 
 meant. We must hope that he always showed 
 himself equally teachable. 
 
 While the preparations for the journey were 
 going on, Philip had a hundred questions to ask 
 concerning the relatives whom he was about to 
 visit. He thought he should be afraid at first to 
 speak to his uncle — what sort of a man was he ? 
 did his aunt love little boys, and how old were 
 Ms cousins ? It was a sore trial to his patience 
 that his curiosity could not be immediately grati- 
 fied, but as he attended to his lessons and other 
 duties pretty faithfully, the time did not seem so 
 very long after all. 
 
 One day in the middle of the following week, 
 Dr. Young called to inform Mrs. Ashley that he 
 had written an account of the gardener's praise- 
 worthy conduct in having saved two children at 
 different times from drowning, to the Royal Hu- 
 mane Society in London, who had sent down a 
 favourable answer. ' And here it is,' continued 
 the doctor, while he opened a small box, and 
 showed a bright silver medal. 
 
 Philip pressed forward to look as his mother took 
 the box: the medal was a very handsome one, with 
 
26 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 some words engraved upon it, stating that it was 
 given to James Patehson, for his prompt obedi- 
 ence to the call of duty, and instrumentality in 
 saving the lives of two of his fellow-creatures. 
 
 £ It struck me/ said the doctor again, ' that 
 perhaps you would like to accompany me to Green - 
 ford, and see the medal presented to the worthy- 
 man ?' 
 
 It was with a feeling of self-reproach that Mrs. 
 Ashley remembered she had not yet gone over her- 
 self to thank the gardener, and she at once accepted 
 the kind proposal. 
 
 The doctor promised to call with his gig early in 
 the evening, and drive Philip and his mother over : 
 he was punctual to his appointment, and in due 
 time they came in sight of the pond. Philip turned 
 a little pale when he again saw the spot where he 
 had such a narrow escape of drowning. When the 
 gig stopped, Sirs. Ashley lost no time in thanking 
 the gardener and his wife for all their kind atten- 
 tions to her dear boy ; then the doctor produced 
 the medal, and placed it in Paterson's hand, with 
 a few words of commendation and encouragement, 
 exhorting him still to persevere in the path of duty. 
 The gardener said that he had never once thought 
 of reward ; it was a pleasure to him and his wife 
 to see Philip quite well, but still he felt an honest 
 pride in the honour conferred upon him. 
 
 This pro ved a gratifying visit for the whole party ; 
 and as they rode homeward, Philip felt how foolish 
 had been his wish about Monday week coming all 
 at once. But the anticipated day came at last ; 
 bags and boxes were packed and soon Philip and 
 his mother were really on the coach, which, drawn 
 by four fast horses, rolled swiftly over the pleasant 
 country, and a little before tea-time they arrived 
 at their destination. 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW PHILIP SAW HIS UNCLE, AUNT, AND 
 COUSINS, AND LEARNED MORE AT EAST- 
 HAM THAN HE EYER KNEW BEFORE. 
 
 The coach rattled into Eastham, and stopped at a 
 house in Market Street, over the door of which 
 Philip read the name * Davies,' and underneath 
 6 Turning in all its Branches.' In the window 
 he saw numbers of wooden bowls, nine-pins, vases, 
 and handles of all sorts, but he could not stay to 
 look at them then, for his mother had already de- 
 scended the ladder, and the guard called to him to 
 make haste and come down also. Before he reached 
 the pavement he felt himself lifted up by a pair of 
 strong arms, and carried in-doors : while a voice 
 said in his ear— ' Well, my little man, I am very 
 glad to see you.' 
 
 Philip turned his head, and when he saw a pair 
 of merry twinkling eyes looking at him, and felt 
 a hearty kiss upon his cheek, he no longer thought 
 of being afraid to speak. — 'Are you uncle Davies ?' 
 he asked. 
 
 4 Yes, my fine fellow, I am uncle Davies ; and 
 see, here are your cousins.' 
 
 As Mr. Davies spoke he stood Philip on the 
 floor at the back of the shop, where he found him- 
 self face to face with his cousins ; there were four 
 of them, two boys and two girls, all looking so 
 clean and so happy, that he believed he should 
 like them very well. He felt a little shy and 
 turned rather red, although he tried to hold up 
 his head and appear as if he were not afraid, while 
 the two youngest cousins looked bashful, one thrust 
 
28 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 a finger into her mouth, and the other rubbed ths 
 corner of his eye with his little fist. Mr. Davies 
 was somewhat amused at these childish embar- 
 rassments ; presently he said, as he pointed to 
 the party one after another, beginning at the 
 eldest — 6 Now, Philip, my boy, remember : — this 
 is Charley ; this one, Annie ; this one, Lucy ; 
 and that little rogue there is Edward, or Eddy 
 as he calls himself. Go children, all of you, and 
 give your cousin a kiss.' 
 
 So Philip had to receive four very friendly 
 kisses one after another ; meanwhile Mrs. Ashley 
 had gone into the sitting-room behind the shop, a 
 female came hastily forwards as she entered, and 
 there the long-separated sisters met. As Philip's- 
 mother looked into the beaming eyes before her 
 and saw the once familiar features lit up with 
 tenderness and affection, she remembered the time 
 when, years gone by, she and her little sister had 
 Iain in the same bed, their arms twined round 
 each other's neck, trustfully and lovingly as nest- 
 lings under their parents' wing ; and now, while 
 a few tears of deep joy fell from her cheek, she- 
 locked her sister in a similar embrace, and back 
 into her heart came the innocent and confiding 
 love of their early childhood. 
 
 It was not long after this that all the party 
 were comfortably seated round the tea-table ; and 
 what a pleasant repast they had. Philip loved 
 his aunt the moment he saw her, she looked so. 
 happy, so good-humoured, so ready to love every 
 body, that he could not help loving her in return. 
 It seemed that Mr. Da vies thought Philip must 
 be very hungry and thirsty after his ride, so often 
 did he tell Charley to hand the seed-cake to his 
 cousin, and remind Annie to pour out another cup 
 of milk. The shyness soon wore off, and the chil* 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 29 
 
 dren began to talk as though they had been 
 acquainted for a few months instead of a few 
 minutes. Charley was about ten years old, and 
 now and then made such sensible remarks as sur- 
 prised Philip, who thought that only men or 
 women were able to talk in that style, and made 
 him fancy that perhaps his cousin would be above 
 playing with him, who was not so old by a year 
 and a half. 
 
 In the course of the meal, Mr. Davies said to 
 Mrs. Ashley — 6 You are come just in time, sister, 
 for to-morrow we take one of our holiday walks.' 
 
 c Yes, and mother has made a pie and such a 
 large cake/ broke in little Lucy, slily 
 
 6 Ah you tell-tale/ retorted Charley, 6 could you 
 not wait a little P* 
 
 ' Which place shall we go to, father/ asked 
 Annie, * Langley park or Newtown ?' 
 
 6 To Langley/ replied her father, 6 and if all 
 be well, we shall visit Newtown in autumn, when 
 the russets are ripe/ 
 
 4 1 hope cousin Philip wont have gone away 
 before then/ said Charley. 
 
 4 And I hope so too/ rejoined Annie. 
 
 * And 1/ cried Lucy. 
 
 * And 1/ chimed in the little rogue Eddy, with 
 his lively voice. 
 
 Philip being an only child, had often felt lonely 
 for want of companions, and now when he heard 
 all these good wishes on his account, something 
 seemed to warm his heart and fill him full of 
 quiet pleasure ; and how bright his looks were as 
 he turned his eyes from w one face to another all 
 round the room ! 
 
 4 That is right, children/ said Mr. Davies, 9 we 
 ought always to be ready to promote the pleasure 
 and welfare of others. But now, Charley, I dare 
 
30 
 
 WISHING AND WQ&KXNG. 
 
 say your cousin would like to see what you have 
 to show him.' 
 
 Up jumped the children at these words, and 
 the two elder ones taking Philip by the hand, led 
 him into the yard behind the house. There was 
 no end of sights to be seen, some of which, to 
 Philip's unaccustomed eye, appeared very won- 
 derful. On one side under a sloping pent-house 
 was a saw-pit, which his cousins assured him was 
 a capital place to play in, especially when there 
 was a large heap of sawdust at the bottom, for 
 then they used to tread it down hard, and scoop 
 out grottos, and tunnels, and bridges, or build 
 pyramids. Sometimes, too, they played at keep- 
 ing grocer's shop, and made believe to sell the 
 sawdust as tea, or sugar, or coffee, just as it suited 
 them. Philip thought this would be good sport, 
 and said — ' I wish you would play at grocer now/ 
 
 c Wouldn't it be better to wait till another day/ 
 answered Charley, i and see all round the place 
 first ?' 
 
 Whether Philip thought so or not, he did not 
 repeat his wish, but followed his cousin, who led 
 the way into the workshop, where the sight of 
 new wonders made him soon forget the saw- pit. 
 Three or four men were busy : some at the lathes 
 turning boxes or table-legs, which whirled round 
 as swift as the wind, while they moved the treadle 
 up and down with their feet. At first Philip was 
 a little bewildered by the noise and the sight of 
 the shavings and chips flying off from the work- 
 men's tools ; but in a little time he did not mind 
 it, and great was his astonishment at seeing how 
 quickly boxes were made, the man seemed hardly 
 to have touched the wood with his chisel before 
 the box was complete, and Philip could scarcely 
 believe hif ?wn eyes, when he saw that one could 
 
"WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 31 
 
 be made in a minute — a box in a minute : bow 
 was it possible ? 
 
 At one end of the large workshop was a smaller 
 one, in which were two lathes and some benches ; 
 one of the lathes was a low one, just high enough 
 for a boy to work at, and this, Charley said was his. 
 
 c Can you make boxes, too ?' asked Philip. 
 
 * Yes, but not such good ones as father makes.' 
 
 6 1 wish I could make some,' replied Philip. 
 
 c Do you f answered Charley, ' I'll shew you 
 how : we can begin to-morrow morning/ 
 
 ' Ah, but I wish I knew how without the 
 trouble of learning.' 
 
 6 Oh, Philip, what's the use of wishing that ? 
 It's no good wishing for what you can't have, 
 especially if you don't want to try.' 
 
 All at once the thought of some of his former 
 wishes came into Philip's mind, and so he remained 
 silent. Can any of y ou, my young readers, tell why 
 he was silent ? I dare say you can if you try. 
 
 The two boys then left the workshop, and went 
 into another part of the yard, between piles of logs 
 of wood, and stacks of boards, all to be used up 
 some day by the turners and other workmen. Then 
 there were drying-lofts and store-rooms, and so 
 many ins and outs among the buildings, that 
 Philip said it would be the best place in the coun- 
 try for a game at hide-and-seek. 
 
 6 Yes,' said Chantey, ' it's the best place I know 
 of for play and work too. as you will find out if 
 you stay here long enough.' 
 
 Beyond the yard was a garden which the boys 
 next visited, and after looking at the little plots 
 that Charley pointed out as his, and Annie's, and 
 Lucy's, — Eddy was too young to have one — they 
 went back to the house. Now, Philip had to go Up 
 stairs and see Charley's books ; they were neatly 
 
32 
 
 WIS II IN a AND WORKING. 
 
 ranged on some hanging shelves which he had him- 
 self made ; besides other things. Presently Annie 
 came running in to show a little chest of drawers, 
 and Lucy brought a table, and Eddy a battledore 
 and shuttlecock, all of which were also Charley 's 
 workmanship. 
 
 The children were busily talking when a voice 
 was heard at the door : it said, c bed-time for the 
 little ones.' Lucy and Eddy recognized their 
 mother's voice, and having said good-night to their 
 brother, sister, and cousin, they made haste out of 
 the room. Philip thought it was a pity to break up 
 a little party when talking so pleasantly, and he 
 asked — 4 Do they never wish to stay up longer ?' 
 
 6 Oh, yes/ answered Annie, we all wish that 
 sometimes ; but then mother knows best, and 
 so we go off as soon as she bids."* 
 
 Philip remembered that he used to tease his 
 mother nearly every night, by wishing to sit up 
 late. We shall see whether his visit to Eastham 
 will make him wiser. 
 
 The children went down stairs and took their 
 seats quietly in the sitting-room ; the shop was now 
 closed, and business over for the day. The Bible 
 was lying on the table, Charley read a psalm at 
 his father's bidding, after which it was bed-time 
 for him and Annie. Mrs Ashley went up stairs 
 at the same time with Philip, to a snug little room 
 in which he was to sleep. 
 
 ' Oh, mother,' said the little boy, as soon as they 
 were alone, 6 you can't think how clever Charley 
 is, he seems to know every thing ; and he is so 
 good-natured.' 1 
 
 ' 1 am glad to hear you say so, my dear, no 
 doubt you will come to love him very much/ 
 
 'Why, mother,' continued Philip, ' he can talk 
 about plants and flowers, and steam-engines, and 
 
"WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 33 
 
 the moon and stars, and when I asked him he told 
 me that he read about such things in hooks as- 
 well as saying lessons. Is it true, mother, that 
 we can learn things by just reading ?' ^ 
 
 ' Yes, my child, if we read with a wish to learn 
 a: d improve.'' 
 
 ' I wish I knew as much as Charley does,' said 
 Philip, £ he makes so many pretty things, mother, 
 all with his own tools ; I could not help wishing 
 for them, and what do you think he said then ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps he offered to give you some P 1 
 
 ' So he did, mother, but he spoke something — I 
 almost forget— ah, yes, he said it was a proverb :— 
 
 Waste time not in wishing, 
 But labour and strive ; 
 To wish without working 
 Makes nobody thrive,' 
 
 c And a very wise proverb it is, I hope you 
 wont forget it. Now kneel down my child and 
 say your prayers.** 
 
 Presently Philip was left alone, his little head as 
 it lay on the pillow full of new thoughts and 
 schemes ; his heart full of love for his new friends, 
 and while thinking about them he fell asleep. 
 
 Mrs. Ashley's head and heart were also busy, 
 and when she retired for the night, she could not 
 help deploring the long estrangement which had 
 prevented intercourse with a sister, whom she now 
 found abounding in love and generous qualities. 
 No longer did she consider it a disgrace to be con- 
 nected with a brother-in-law so correct in manners 
 and well-informed as Mr. Davies, although he 
 began life as a working-man. She began to per- 
 ceive that respectability depends more on character 
 than on trade or profession. 
 
 A spark of true love dwells in every breast ; but 
 too often, instead of permitting it to shine forth, w& 
 
34 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 conceal and stifle it beneath vain pride and foolish 
 prejudice, thereby working sorrow to ourselves and 
 to others, 
 
 The next afternoon the whole party went to 
 Langley park as had been planned ; the children 
 and the provisions were carried in the light spring- 
 cart which Mr. Davies used in his business, and 
 when they reached the green lanes, some of them 
 would get out and walk a little, while their mother 
 or aunt rode. It was a real pleasure to witness 
 the orderly conduct of the young brothers and 
 sisters, which shewed how wisely and carefully 
 they had been trained. Where indeed can loving 
 care or attention be so well bestowed as on chil- 
 dren ? The reward is great : the young ones are 
 saved from much bitterness of strife, and the hearts 
 of parents are invigorated by ever-flowing affection. 
 
 As they went along, the elder children sought 
 about under the hedges and on the grassy banks 
 for curious plants and wild-flowers. Philip had 
 often done the same in his walks with his mother 
 when at home at Oak ton, but never as it seemed 
 with so much pleasure as now. For Charley could 
 tell him the names of a good many, or point out 
 something remarkable about them, and if he could 
 not explain, there was always his father at hand, 
 to give information. In this way Philip learned 
 that a little red flower which he had frequently 
 seen growing on the road- side, was called the 
 scarlet pimpernel, or the poor man's weather-glass, 
 because it closes its bright leaves when rain is 
 coming on, and is never open after twelve o'clock 
 in any weather. Then another little plant with 
 yellow blossoms looking like butterflies, was birdV 
 foot trefoil ; and next, the pretty creeper, with its 
 delicate pink and white flowers, named conWvolus, 
 but which Philip knew was also called bind- weed. 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 35 
 
 Presently they came to the innocent-looking flax 
 adorned with white flowers, and the children were 
 reminded by their father of another kind of flax 
 plant which was very useful, and from which is 
 made the beautiful white linen now worn so much 
 in most parts of the world. Philip heard too, that 
 nettles, which he thought were only made to sting 
 people, were also very useful ; some of the roots 
 yield a yellow colour for dyers, the juice poured on 
 lint is employed by surgeons to stop bleeding from 
 the nose or from wounds, and the stalks are pre- 
 pared and twisted into coarse strong ropes. It 
 would take up too much space to tell you all that 
 Philip learned during that afternoon ; and when 
 he heard Annie recite a gladsome poem about the 
 uses of flowers, which ended with the cheering 
 declaration that they are created — 
 
 * To comfort man, to whisper hope 
 
 Whene'er his faith is dim : 
 For who so careth tor the flowers 
 
 Will much more care for him, 5 
 
 when Philip heard this he felt, although he could 
 not express it in words, that pleasure is sweetest 
 when it informs and interests the mind while ex- 
 ercising the body. 
 
 After strolling in this agreeable way for about 
 five miles, they came to Langley, and pitched their 
 camp, as Charley merrily said, in a grassy dell in 
 one corner of the park. Here the turf was so 
 green and smooth that it looked almost like velvet, 
 and near the bottom of the slope a cool spring 
 bubbled up so brightly that you could not help 
 being tempted to drink, and after a draught from 
 that delicious basin, you would agree that water 
 is the best drink in all the world. Now the large 
 pie and cake, which Lucy had told of the day 
 before, were brought out, and the children thought, 
 as they sat on the grass laughing and eating, and 
 
36 
 
 drinking the sparkling water, that dining out of 
 doors was the best way of enjoying a holiday. 
 When they had nearly done, Mr. Davies took 
 another pie from a basket which he had kept 
 standing close to his side ; it was in a small but 
 very deep round dish. As soon as Annie saw it, 
 she said, ' Ah, that's the pie that father was doing 
 something to in the pantry this morning ; I 
 wonder what it is ?' 
 
 'It is for Philip,' replied Mr. Davies, casting a 
 sportive look towards his wife ; fi come, my boy, 
 take your fork and begin. It's all for you.' 
 
 Philip thought he should prefer sharing it with 
 his cousins, as he attempted to break the crust with 
 a fork ; to his surprise it came off altogether with- 
 out much trouble, and — out flew a pigeon ! The 
 sudden flapping of its wings made him start back 
 slightly alarmed, but immediately there were such 
 exclamations of wonder and delight, that he could 
 
 ill 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 37 
 
 not help joining in them. The children clapped 
 their hands as the pigeon rose straight upwards, 
 and then flew rapidly away to Eastham. Charley 
 said he had heard of a pie with 4 four and twenty 
 blackbirds 1 in it, but had never seen a live pigeon- 
 pie before, and all of them laughed merrily when 
 Mr. Davies asked Philip how it tasted. 
 
 6 Father always contrives something of that sort, 1 
 said Annie, 6 every time we go out. I wonder how 
 he kept the pigeon in ?' 
 
 An examination took place, from which the 
 children found that besides the holes in the pie- 
 crust, there was one in the bottom of the dish, 
 covered with a little hay, so that the pigeon had 
 plenty of air to breathe, and Mr. Davies had only 
 put the poor bird in just before starting, This 
 discovery amused them all very much, and was a 
 subject of conversation for the rest of the day. 
 
38 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW PHILIP GOT OUT OF A DIFFICULTY, 
 AND FELL INTO A TEMPTATION, AND GREW 
 WISE AT LAST. 
 
 It was a rule with Mr. and Mrs. Da vies to teach 
 their children, as far as their means would permit, 
 all that was desirable for them to know. Charley 
 was one day to be a man of business, so he was 
 occasionally employed, in spare hours, in carrying 
 home parcels, or fetching things for the workshop ; 
 the girls too were taught to perform such little 
 household duties as they were capable of, by 
 which means it was hoped they would know how 
 to instruct others when they grew up to be women ; 
 for as Mrs. Davies said, unless people have learnt 
 they cannot teach, or know when things are pro- 
 perly attended to. 
 
 A few days after the trip to Langley, while at 
 breakfast, Mr. Davies said — ' Charley, there are 
 two little tree-stems over at farmer Pither's ; 
 would you like to take your truck and go and 
 fetch them ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, father, very much indeed. May Philip 
 go with me ? ' 
 
 6 If his mother has no objection he may.'' 
 
 Mrs. Ashley gave her consent ; and as soon as 
 breakfast was over, and the morning^s chapter 
 in the Bible had been read, Charley ran down 
 the yard to fetch his own little truck, and presently 
 came pulling it out at the side gate, where he was 
 joined by Philip, and away the boys went in high 
 spirits. 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 39 
 
 The nearest way to fanner Pither's was by the 
 path across the fields ; at one place a narrow foot- 
 bridge led over a little stream that separated two 
 farms, but it was quite wide enough for the truck 
 to pass without danger if carefully guided. The 
 boys got safely across, and trotted forwards 
 merrily, sometimes treating one another to a ride. 
 Philip, however, not having been used to work, 
 could only draw Charley for a few yards, while 
 Charley could drag him the whole length of a 
 field. They arrived in due time at former Pither's, 
 who showed them the two stems, one honeysuckle 
 and the other apple-tree, and stood by to see how 
 they woidd manage them. 
 
 The stems were not heavy : Charley set Philip 
 to lift one end while he lifted the other, and 
 having laid them on the truck, he bound them 
 fast in their places with a small rope which he had 
 brought with him, and then, with a caution from 
 the farmer not to hurt themselves, they started on 
 the way back. 
 
 It was harder work now : they could no longer 
 trot as the}^ had done in coining, but each one was 
 obliged to lay hold of the cross-bar and pull stoutly. 
 Now and then they stopped to rest a little and 
 recover breath ; and while waiting Charley told 
 Philip the names of the trees that could be seen a 
 little distance off ; he knew the difference between 
 ash, elm, oak, beech, and many others, and ex- 
 plained to his cousin the various purposes for which 
 they are used by turners and carpenters. All this 
 was quite new to Philip, and after trying two or 
 three times, he was able to name some of the trees 
 himself. He learned also that the honeysuckle 
 stem which they had on the truck was used for 
 making tool handles, because it bears a hard blow 
 
40 
 
 WISHING ANP WORKING. 
 
 without splitting, and the apple- tree would be 
 made into bobbins for lace-makers, and was very 
 serviceable for parts of wheels. Thus, working 
 and talking, the boys came to the little bridge, the 
 crossing of which was more difficult now that they 
 had a load on the truck. • Charley considered for 
 a moment, and then said it would be best for him 
 to go first, while Philip should push behind and 
 see that the wheels ran straight. So with a strong 
 pull the truck was got upon the bridge : Charley 
 went slowly, with Philip keeping a watchful eye 
 in the rear, but as it happened, the little boy only 
 looked at one wheel, and by the time they were 
 half way across, the other one slipped off the 
 plank, and over went the truck into the ditch. 
 Luckily neither of the boys was hurt, though at 
 first they were somewhat alarmed. Philip was the 
 first to speak : 6 Oh, Charley, 1 he said, 6 what shall 
 we do now ? I wish the wheel had not slipped off.' 
 
 ' It's no use wishing that/ replied Charley ; 6 the 
 wheel wont come up again just to please us.' 
 
 6 1 wish somebody would come by and help us 
 to get it out/ said Philip, again. 
 
 6 Did you ever hear about the waggoner and 
 J upiter ? ' asked his cousin. 
 
 6 No : what was it ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I'll tell you/ said Charley, < it's in Esop's 
 fables. Once, as a waggoner was driving along a 
 road, one of the wheels sunk into a hole, and stuck 
 so fast that the oxen could not pull it out. The 
 man began to think it was of no use to try, and 
 so he prayed to Jupiter to come and get the wheel 
 out for him ; but Jupiter looked down from a cloud 
 and said, " Foolish man, first put your own shoul- 
 der to the wheel, and help yourself, before you 
 call upon others.*' ' 
 
WISHING AA T D WORKING. 
 
 41 
 
 * What a silly man that waggoner was ! 1 cried 
 Philip, with a laugh. 
 
 ' And should not we be just as silly,' replied 
 Charley, ■ if we stand here wishing that somebody 
 would come by and help us ?' 
 
 4 I did not think of that, 1 Philip answered ; 
 but what shall we do ? ' 
 
 Charley thought the best way would be to try 
 and untie the cord, and first release the truck, 
 which lay with its wheels uppermost. He got 
 down, therefore, upon the stems, which made a 
 sort of bridge across the shallow stream, and having 
 succeeded in untying the rope, he fastened it to 
 the cross-bar of the truck, and set Philip to pull, 
 while he, being the stronger, pushed behind. In 
 this way, after a little labour, the truck was drawn 
 up to the top of the bank, and made to stand upon 
 its wheels again. The two stems were hauled 
 out in the same way, and once more made fast 
 to the carriage, and then, as so much time had 
 been lost, the boys did not rest again until they 
 reached home. 
 
 Charley told his father of what had happened. 
 When Mr. Davies had satisfied himself that the 
 boys had come off unhurt, he said, 6 Well, I do 
 not think you are to be blamed for an accident 
 which you tried to guard against ; but there was 
 one way of avoiding it.' 
 
 6 What was that, father ? 1 
 
 i You might have untied the rope and carried 
 the stems across one at a time, then there would 
 have been no difficulty with the empty truck, and 
 you would soon have loaded it again.' 
 
 ' So we could, father,' answered Charley ; fi I'll 
 try and think better another time.' 
 
 ' I wish we had thought of that way/ said 
 Philip. 
 
42 
 
 WISHING- AND WORKING* 
 
 Charley looked at his cousin, as much as to say s 
 have you forgotten the waggoner already ? Philip 
 understood him, and wished that he had not 
 spoken his wish. 
 
 The next day there was another errand to the 
 country : a handsome vase, turned from the root of 
 a favourite yew-tree, was to be carried to Fairfield 
 House, nearly three miles off on the road to 
 Oakton. The vase was carefully packed in soft 
 paper and green baize, and Mr. Davies was very 
 particular in telling Charley not to set it down or 
 to stop by the way, for fear of injury. The boys 
 started soon after dinner, and very faithfully obeyed 
 instructions, for they walked steadily onwards 
 without a pause, until they got sight of the house, 
 which stood on a rising ground in Fairfield park. 
 Philip remembered having seen it when he came 
 by on the top of the coach, little expecting then 
 that he should ever visit it. The cousins walked 
 up to the building, and gave the vase to a footman 
 who came to the door ; he asked them to wait 
 until his mistress had seen it. Mrs. Stevens, the 
 owner of Fairfield, was a widow lady, known for 
 many miles round for deeds of charity and benevo- 
 lence. She had long been a customer of Mr* 
 Davies', and had taken a liking to Charley, because 
 she found him to be a truthful and well- mannered 
 boy. Most of the books which Philip had seen on 
 the shelves in his cousin's bed-room, were a pre- 
 sent from her as a reward for good conduct ; it 
 was, therefore, no small pleasure for Charley to go 
 to her house. She had shown him, on one occa- 
 sion, her library, which contained hundreds of 
 books, and a picture-gallery hung with beautiful 
 paintings, and took pains to explain the meaning 
 of what he did not understand. We may be quite 
 
WISHING AND "WORKING. 43 
 
 sure that she would not have been so kind to 
 Charley had he not been a trustworthy hoy. 
 
 Presently the footman returned, and informed 
 the boys that Mrs. Stevens would speak to them 
 in the garden, where she was then walking. II e 
 opened the large glazed doors at the end of the 
 hall, the youths went through and along the gra- 
 velled walk, till they met the lady ; as soon as 
 she saw them she said, 6 Good morning, Charles ; 
 you have brought my vase very carefully ; there 
 is not a scratch upon it.' 
 
 Charley made a respectful bow as he answered, 
 4 1 am very glad ma'am, that it came quite safe ; 
 father told me how to carry it. 1 
 
 After asking a few questions about Philip, and 
 making some other remarks, Mrs. Stevens told 
 Charley he might show his cousin all over the 
 garden. Having spoken their thanks, the boys 
 went on towards the flower-beds ; and after see- 
 ing these they walked among the beautiful shrubs, 
 where Charley next led the way, and along the 
 filbert walk to the fruit-garden. It was a charm- 
 ing and tempting sight, but he touched nothing. 
 He had just turned the corner by some low trees 
 as a curious plant attracted his notice, and he 
 stopped to examine it closely. Philip meanwhile 
 had lingered a little behind, near a small cherry- 
 tree covered with delicious fruit ; he stopped to 
 look at it, but he had better have kept on, for 
 while looking he began to wish for some of the 
 cherries. It would be so easy to gather a few ; 
 a ladder was standing against the tree, and nobody 
 would sec him. With hurried steps the weak- 
 minded boy mounted the ladder, and plucked 
 about thirty of the finest, which he brought down 
 in his cap. He had eaten two or three when he 
 heard Charley calling his name, there was no time 
 
44 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 " "u 
 
 to wait, so lie put his cap on his head with the 
 cherries in it, intending to eat them at some other 
 time, and pan to overtake his cousin. 
 
 A guilty conscience sees an accuser everywhere : 
 Philip thought that Charley looked at him as 
 though he knew what had taken place. This was 
 the first consequence of wrong- doing. 
 
 There was now little more to be seen ; the boys 
 walked back to the house, stopping by the way to 
 look at the gold and silver fish swimming about 
 in the fountain, the sight of which made Philip 
 half forget the cherries. Going on again, they 
 saw Mrs. Stevens waiting for them ; when they 
 came up she gave each of them a small book about 
 birds and wild-flowers, and said a few words on 
 the pleasures of reading. While she talked, 
 Philip felt his cap a little uncomfortable, and quite 
 forgetting what was in it, took it off, when at once 
 all the cherries fell out on the ground. What an 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 45 
 
 exposure ! the little boy stood shrinking with 
 shame, while Charley scarcely knowing what he 
 said, exclaimed, 'Oh, Philip, what have you done?' 
 then taking his cousin by the hand, he looked up 
 in Mrs. Stevens's face and said, ' I don't think, 
 ma'am, that he meant to do wrong.' 
 
 6 We will hope so,' answered the lady kindly, 
 c it was a sudden temptation to which he hastily 
 3 r ielded. It is well for you, my little boy,' she 
 continued, addressing Philip, ' that the discovery 
 is made. Perhaps if this had not been found out, 
 you might be tempted to do wrong again, and who 
 can foresee the consequences ?' 
 
 Philip could not speak, but tears of shame fell 
 fast from his eyes to the ground. 
 
 6 1 trust Philip,' the lady said again, fi that you 
 weep from real sorrow at having done wrong, not 
 merely because you are found out ?' 
 
 The weeping boy remained silent : Charley still 
 held his hand, almost ready to shed tears also : — 
 6 If you will only forgive him this once, ma'am," 
 he said, i I think he will know better another 
 time.' 
 
 ' 1 can easily pardon the error,' answered Mrs. 
 Stevens, i but I am truly grieved that a little boy 
 should so readily have forgotten that we are com- 
 manded not to steal, and to do unto others as we 
 would wish others to do unto us.' 
 
 When Philip heard this, he felt shocked : he had 
 not thought that gathering a few cherries was steal- 
 ing, he only considered that they would taste so nice, 
 and he knew very well that a person who steals is 
 called a thief, and he would not like to be called 
 a thief for all the world. 
 
 Mrs. Stevens added a few words of kind advice to 
 the now repentant boy, and begged him to remember 
 that the wish to do wrong, is sometimes as bad a& 
 
46 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 doing the wrong : if we wish to avoid doing ill, 
 we must strive to think aright. 
 
 Many thoughts were in Philip's mind as he 
 walked home with his cousin : a grateful feeling 
 towards Charley for speaking in his behalf — sur- 
 prise that Mrs. Stevens had not been angry 
 —and a tender sentiment when he remembered 
 that she had seemed grieved : besides which he 
 felt mortified and inclined to despise himself. 
 ' Nobody will love me any more, Charley/ he said 
 in a sorrowful voice. 
 
 6 Yes they will, Philip,' answered Charley, 6 be- 
 cause you know you arc not obliged to do wrong/ 
 
 When the chapter was being read that night as 
 usual, Philip felt that his cousin had been very 
 kind and considerate in not telling any one of 
 what had happened, and yet his mind was not 
 quite at ease. The recollections of wrong-doing 
 pierce like thorns in the conscience. When he 
 went up stairs his aunt said she would go and see 
 him into bed ; and as he knelt clown, resting his 
 head on her knees to say his evening prayer, she 
 noticed that his voice trembled, and when he 
 came to the words, 6 lead us not into temptation,' 
 he burst into tears, and said, c Oh, aunt, why 
 was I led into temptation to-day ?' 
 
 Mrs. Davies sat the little boy on her lap, calmed 
 him with soothing words, and questioned him as 
 to the cause of his sorrow. Philip told her how 
 he had stolen the cherries. 
 
 * My dear little boy,' she said, 6 what was it led 
 you into temptation ?' 
 
 Philip could not answer. 
 
 6 It was an evil thought in your own little heart 
 Philip. Do you think that if you had run away 
 when you first saw the tree you would have taken 
 the cherries ? 9 
 
WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 47 
 
 ' No, aunt.' 
 
 c Well, my dear, when we pray that we may not 
 "be led into temptation, we must at the same time 
 strive against giving way to temptation. We 
 must be as willing to help ourselves as we are to 
 ask for help.' 
 
 A light broke into Philip's young mind as his 
 aunt spoke, he laid his head on the pillow that 
 night with clearer notions of duty and of right 
 and wrong than he had ever had before. The im- 
 pression still remained when he woke the next 
 morning, and always afterwards. Trials and sor- 
 rows had at last convinced him that doing right 
 does not come by chance, but must be the con- 
 sequence of effort. A ship must have a rudder 
 to guide it or it will never reach its port ; so men 
 and women and boys and girls must have some 
 fixed principle to keep them in the straight path 
 of duty. Philip was not old enough to reason 
 about these things, but his conscience and his feel- 
 ing seemed both to warn and encourage him 
 according to the circumstances. But it was only by 
 trying hour after hour, and day after day, that 
 what conscience told him was a duty became a 
 habit— and in this, living in his uncle's family 
 was of the greatest benefit to him. Their example 
 taught him to exert himself, and the morning 
 and evening prayer, and scripture reading, helped 
 daily to remind him, as well as the others, that 
 duty may become a service of love to the Almighty. 
 Mrs. Ashley, too, as she witnessed her sister's 
 kind and quiet, yet firm governance of her family, 
 became gradually impressed with the same spirit, 
 and was well repaid for her struggle against petty 
 irritations, by the loving obedience which Philip 
 now rendered to her instructions and commands. 
 
48 
 
 WISHING AND WORKING. 
 
 Such was the effect of thoughtful love, that the 
 koy's duties became his sweetest pleasures. 
 
 I should like to relate much more of Philip's 
 history and adventures — how his wishes changed 
 into work- — but there is not room. I can only 
 tell you that his mother and he stayed for several 
 months at Easthani, yielding to the request of 
 their kind relations. This lengthened stay proved 
 very beneficial to both of them — at last came a 
 letter from Mr. Ashley, to say that he hoped to be 
 at home once more before many days were over ; 
 and although Philip was rejoiced at the thought 
 of soon seeing his father, he could not leave the 
 happy household at Eastham, in which he had 
 gained so much good, without sorrow. Tears were 
 shed on both sides when the final parting came, 
 while hopes were expressed of soon seeing each 
 •other again, and so with glad and grateful recol- 
 lections of their visit, the mother and son returned 
 to Oakton. 
 
 Great was the father's joy to perceive the change 
 that had taken place in those from whom he had 
 been so long parted. Never before had his home- 
 visit been so delightful or so promising of future 
 happiness. For Philip had not forgotten the various 
 trials through which he had passed, and was a 
 most contented and industrious little fellow — 
 time no longer hung heavy on his hands, and so, 
 with such fair prospects we may take leave of 
 him, now that he really proves his knowledge of 
 the important difference between Wishing and 
 Working. 
 
 C! r. o o 3J. Bin d g e Bkothehs, Printers* Exeter-street, Strand.