JJCSB LIBRARY 
 


 u 
 
 
 /Us 
 
 
LITTLE MILL DAM; 
 
 WITH OTHER SELECT AND ORIGINAL 
 
 "True to nature, and true in sentiment. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 KIGGINS & KELLOGG, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 123 & 125 WILLIAM STREET. 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 ONE day the master of a small school, which wai 
 kept in the outskirts of a retired country village, in the 
 mountainous regions of New England, thought he 
 would go out in one of the recesses to seek a little 
 recreation. He had been in the school only a few 
 days, and was as yet scarcely acquainted with his 
 new charge. On the steps of the door of the school- 
 house there were two of the boys " whittling." They 
 started up hastily as they saw him coming, but he 
 requested them to sit still, saying that he could pass 
 them as they were. 
 
 " But where are all the other boys?" said he. 
 
 " They are behind the school-house." 
 
 " What are they doing there ?" 
 
 Such a question would in many cases put school- 
 boys on their guard ; but the tone of the master in this 
 case was so good humored and pleasant, that the little 
 flaxen haired boy to whom it was addressed answered, 
 without hesitation, 
 
 " They are making a dam." 
 
 " Making a dam !" repeated the master ; " that is 
 fine amusement; I must go and see them. Come, go 
 and show me the way." 
 
 The little boy laid down his knife and wood, and 
 with an air of timidity and constraint, as if he was not 
 accustomed to such kind of intercourse with his teach- 
 er, led the way. 
 
 There was a range of hills behind the school-house, 
 
6 THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 covered with a dark and almost impenetrable forest. 
 The margin of this forest extended down very near the 
 school-house, assuming here however the form of an 
 open wood. A brook which had its origin in a dark 
 ravine far up the hills, which the boys had never ex- 
 plored, came bubbling down behind the school-house, 
 and passing it on one side, it crossed the street under 
 a bridge, and then winding its way through some 
 meadows half covered with wood, on the other side, it 
 glided at last into a beautiful bend which stretched out 
 in the centre of the valley in which the town was 
 situated. 
 
 As the master, preceded by his little guide, passed 
 around the corner of the school-house, he heard the 
 sound of loud and angry voices, at the brook beyond. 
 Half a dozen boys were vociferating together, and little 
 could he understand except that they were disputing 
 about the best way to fix their dam. Among the con- 
 fused mass of sounds, however, two could be distin- 
 guished, which seemed to be the leading ones in the 
 discussion. 
 
 " I say, Jack Wilder, that is not fair ; this is our 
 dam, and you've no right to come here and spoil it. I 
 tell you let it alone." 
 
 " I a'nt spoiling it, I tell you ; I am only fixing it. 
 You don't any of you know how to build a dam." 
 
 Just then a timid looking little boy, who had been 
 standing back at a little distance from the brook, hur- 
 ried to the disputants, and said, in a low voice, 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! there's the master." 
 
 The boys looked up, and most of them retreated, as 
 by a sort of involuntary instinct, a step or two from the 
 scene of dispute. Jack Wilder muttered, "What do T 
 care for that." 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 7 
 
 Jack Wilder was standing across the dam of wet 
 sods which the boys had made. One foot was in the 
 water, and the other half up to the ancle in the mud 
 below the dam. He had a torn and shapeless hat over 
 his ears. He was short, but thick and stout, and in his 
 broad and sun-burnt face there was a frank and good- 
 humored, but reckless expression. 
 
 He raised himself erect, still keeping his foot firmly 
 planted in the mud, and said again, but he took good 
 care to say it so low that he was pretty sure that the 
 master could not hear, 
 
 " Who cares for the master." 
 
 In fact the master was not looking towards them. 
 A large and stout looking boy, named Samuel, who was 
 sitting on the bank several feet from the brook, saw 
 the master when coming round the corner, and he 
 observed that when he. came within hearing of the 
 boys, he stopped and looked back towards the meadow 
 and pond beyond it, as if enjoying the prospect. Sa- 
 muel thought from his manner, that he wished to give 
 the boys an opportunity to see him before he came 
 amongst them. Be that as it may, however, the master 
 now slowly advanced, and when he was pretty near 
 the group, he addressed them in a tone of good-humor- 
 ed curiosity. 
 
 " What are you doing, boys ?" 
 
 " Making a dam, sir," said Jack Wilder, promptly, 
 without altering his attitude in the least, except to push 
 back his old hat a little from his face. 
 
 " I hope you have good tight boots," continued the 
 master, smiling. 
 
 " Sir?" said Jack, with a stare; then looking down 
 to his feet. 
 
3 THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 " I suspect that you don't care much about wet feet. 
 You'd make a good soldier/' 
 
 Up to this time, Jack looked as though he was in 
 doubt whether his new visitor came as a friend or as 
 an enemy, and as though he was preparing for either 
 case, as the result might determine it. There was 
 something too in the attitudes and looks of the other 
 boys which indicated plainly the same sort of anxious 
 uncertainty. Men so frequently give the name of 
 mischief to Avhat boys call fun, that they seldom re- 
 ceive a visit in such circumstances as these without 
 some solicitude. 
 
 Jack however considered the master's compliment 
 to his hardihood in the light of an olive branch, and the 
 serious features of his face relaxed into a smile. The 
 other.boys too began to look somewhat relieved. 
 
 " I used to like making dams when I was a boy," 
 continued the master; "but can't you make a better 
 dam than that ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Jack; "I was just showing them 
 how." 
 
 " I should think you might make a better one then 
 than that. That is not equal to a beaver's ; I should 
 suppose that boys could do better than beavers." 
 
 The boys smiled. 
 
 " I am glad that you have got this plan for amuse- 
 ment in recess, for I have been thinking that I must 
 have some pleasant way of spending my recess. And 
 now I propose that you undertake to make a first rate 
 dam, and I will come at every recess, and sit down 
 here, and see how you get on." 
 
 The boys looked at one another, as if they hardly 
 knew how to consider this proposal. 
 
 " What is the matter ? you look as though you 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 9 
 
 thought this was a strange proposal. Don't you sup- 
 pose that I want a recess as well as you ?" 
 
 " I never heard of such a thing," said Jack Wilder. 
 
 " Well, I do," said the teacher, " and I should like 
 such a plan as this very much." 
 
 " I am willing," said Jack ; " we will tear this all 
 away first, and begin anew ;" and he began immedi- 
 ately to pull off the soaked and dripping socte, and to 
 throw them upon the bank. 
 
 "Stop a minute," said the master; "let us form a 
 plan before we begin the work. Whenever men un- 
 dertake any enterprise, they always first form the plan 
 very carefully, and assign to each individual his share, 
 and go on regularly. In fact even beavers do this. 
 Now there are a great many kinds of dams which you 
 might build. Let us consider first what we shall do. 
 I will go and sit down on that stone, and you may all 
 come around me, and we will talk it all over." 
 
 " See there," said the little boy who warned the boys 
 of the approach of the master; " the dam is all wash- 
 ing away." 
 
 The boys looked around, and saw that the water 
 was pouring swiftly over the top of the dam, at the 
 breach which Jack had made. As the stream passed 
 over, it washed sod after sod away, and threatened 
 "soon to destroy entirely the whole fabric which the 
 boys had made. 
 
 Several boys ran to stop the breach. 
 
 " Never mind," said the master, "let it go; we shall 
 form a better plan than that." 
 
 The boys stood looking at the torrent, as, swelling 
 more and more, it burst over its frail barrier, and glided 
 swiftly away into the stream below. They then ga- 
 thered* around the master, to hear what he had to say. 
 
10 THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 " Nov/, boys, I propose that we proceed in a regular, 
 systematic manner, as men do, when they unite to ac- 
 complish any common object. You will see what is 
 the advantage of system and regularity before we get 
 through." 
 
 The boys seemed well enough pleased with the idea 
 of proceeding systematically and regularly, though they 
 looked somewhat puzzled, as if they hardly knew what 
 system and regularity would require in building a 
 boys' dam. 
 
 " In the first place, are you sure that you have got 
 the best spot ?" 
 
 " I think it is a very good place," said James, a tall, 
 black-eyed boy, who seemed to be one of the older 
 boys, although he had not spoken before ; he was neatly 
 dressed, and had in his hand a sort of cane, which he 
 had made from a straight shoot of an apple-tree in his 
 father's garden. 
 
 " In order to have a good place for a dam," continued 
 the master, " what is necessary ?" 
 
 " It ought to be a good deep place," said Jack Wilder. 
 " I don't think that place is worth a straw ; I can find 
 a dozen places better than that." 
 
 " I think," continued the master, in reply to his own 
 question. " that the stream ought to be pretty narrow 
 just where the dam is to be, and then it can be made 
 easily, and the banks ought to recede from each other 
 just above, so as to form a large basin, and then the 
 pond will be large, when it is filled. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said all the boys. 
 
 " Well, I propose that we appoint a committee of 
 two boys, to go along the brook to examine it, and find 
 the best possible place. Perhaps they will select two 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 11 
 
 or three places, and tell us about them, and then we 
 can choose. Should you like such a plan ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, yes, sir," said the boys. 
 
 The master nominated two of the boys for the pur- 
 pose, and said to them, 
 
 " You must examine the whole stream, far up and 
 down, or at least as far as we can conveniently go in 
 recess, and if you are in doubt you must report several 
 places, with the reasons in favor of each." 
 
 " When shall we do it ?" asked one of the committee. 
 
 " They had better go and do it now," said Jack Wil- 
 der. "I will go and help them. Come." 
 
 " No," said the master, " you must not volunteer to 
 go and help them ; they are regularly appointed, and 
 must do it alone. We shall presently determine when 
 we shall wish them to report, and then they must be 
 left to make the examination whenever they please, 
 only they must be ready at that time. We may want 
 you, Jack, for some other service. 
 
 " There are several other committees which we 
 must appoint, in order that our preparations may be 
 properly made. What shall we make the dam of?" 
 
 " Sods," said the boys. 
 
 "Is that the best thing to make it of?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said James ; " the boys always make 
 them of sods." 
 
 "We can get better ones than these," said Jack 
 Wilder. 
 
 " Yes," said James, " there are some noble ones over 
 there, on the bank," pointing with his cane. 
 
 ' Do you know," asked the master, " how the bea- 
 vers make their dams ?" 
 
 The boys hesitated, and looked at one another. 
 
12 THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 "My father has got an account," said little John, " in 
 his library." 
 
 " Did you never read it?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, don't you remember any thing about it ?" 
 
 John did not reply ; and -while they were all hesitat- 
 ing on this subject, Samuel, who had remained sitting 
 on the bank where he was at first, during all this con- 
 versation, arose and said respectfully to the teacher, 
 
 " I believe, sir, the first thing they do is to gnaw off 
 a tree and lay it across the stream." 
 
 " What is that for ?" 
 
 " To make the dam strong," said Jack Wilder. 
 " That is a capital plan ; we '11 do ours so." 
 
 " How shall we get down the tree ?" said James, 
 addressing himself to Jack Wilder; " you don't expect 
 we can gnaw it down like the beavers, do you ?" 
 
 " We can bring an axe and cut it down ; I can cut 
 one down myself," said Jack, eagerly ; " there's no dif- 
 ficulty in that." 
 
 " Who shall bring an axe ?" said the master ; " we 
 must appoint a committee for that too. A committee 
 of one will do ; who shall he be ?" 
 
 " I can bring my father's," said James. 
 
 " Perhaps he may want to use it, or he may be afraid 
 we shall dull it." 
 
 " Why can't we take a log off of the school wood- 
 pile ?" said one of the boys ; " there are some there 
 which are just the thing." 
 
 " Who does the school wood-pile belong to ?" asked 
 the teacher. 
 
 " It belongs to the school," said Jack, " so that we 
 have a right to take it." 
 
 "I don't know that," said the teacher; "it belongs 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 13 
 
 to the district, who have bought it to be used for school. 
 I think we have no right to take it to make a dam of. 
 We will not have any thing in the dam but what we 
 get honestly." 
 
 ' Will a little axe do ?" asked John, timidly. 
 
 "Why, what if it will?" 
 
 "Why, Ihave got a little one, which my father 
 bought me. I know I can bring that, for my father 
 lets me do what I please with it." 
 
 "This is just what we want, John ; I appoint you a 
 committee to bring an axe. What else is to be done ?" 
 
 " Nothing else," said Jack; " we shall not want any 
 thing but an axe." 
 
 " I don't know," said the master; " I believe we shall 
 want a good many more things. But," added he, tak- , 
 ing out his watch, " it is time for me" to go in. The 
 recess is out, so that I believe we shall have to leave 
 the business here. We must not neglect our duties 
 fur our play ; if we do, it will soon cease to give us any 
 plerrsftre." 
 
 The boys looked disappointed and sorry, that the 
 time of their recess had expired just as they became 
 most interested in forming their plans. 
 
 "When shall I bring the axe?" said little John, 
 walking backwards before the master, as he was walk- 
 ing slowly away. 
 
 "Oh," said the teacher, "I forgot; I think it will be 
 well to wait and not do any thing about it until we 
 have appointed the other committees. Though, on the 
 whole, you may bring it, if you please, this afternoon ; 
 we may want to use it." 
 
 It need not be said, that nothing was talked of. or 
 thought of among the boys, during the intermission at 
 
14 THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 noon, but the dam and the committees. All the details 
 of the arrangements, so far as they were made, were 
 fully talked over. Jack Wilder was as eager and as 
 earnest as any of them; his whole soul was in the 
 work. He said he would have a dam large enough to 
 turn a mill. 
 
 The boys gathered around the spot half in hour be- 
 fore school-time in the afternoon, talking over all the 
 plans ; but the master was not there, and nothing could 
 be done. They were impatient for school to begin, that 
 it might in due time bring the recess. But their im- 
 patience neither hurried nor retarded its approach. It 
 came just at the usual time. The boys poured out in 
 a torrent, and in a minute or two after the master 
 came walking slowly after them. 
 
 "Well," said the master, when they were all fairly 
 on the ground, " how far had AVC got in appointing our 
 committees?" 
 
 " I was to give an axe," said little John eagerly ;^ 
 here it is," continued he, holding up a small 
 axe, which, from its size, seemed to be made for such a 
 purpose as this. 
 
 "Let's see it," said Jack Wilder; "that's a real one." 
 
 " We also appointed a committee to choose a place ; 
 but before asking them what they have done, we will 
 make some other necessary arrangements. 
 
 " In the first place, whose land is this ?" 
 
 " I believe," said James, " it belongs to Mr. Wil- 
 liamson's farm." 
 
 " Do you think then we ought to make a dam upon 
 it. without his permission ?" 
 
 " He won't care." 
 
 " I don't believe it belongs to him," said Jack Wilder ; 
 
THE LITTLK MIL.L DAM. 15 
 
 " it belongs to tke School. We have a right to do what 
 we've a mind-to, here." 
 
 " When thfey baild a school-house," replied the mas- 
 ter, " I believe they generally buy a small piece of land, 
 only large enough for the purpose ; that*is,^t place to 
 put the building upon, and a small yard opposite. 
 Now should you tftmk that the school land extended 
 as far as here?" 
 
 The boys all admitted reluctantly that it could not. 
 There was a pause. They all were disappointed and 
 sad at the appearance of this unexpected difficulty. 
 
 "I don't think it would be right," continued the 
 master, " for us to do any thing of this kind, on another 
 man's land, without his permission. And besides, it 
 will be much pleasanter for us to have it, for then we 
 shall feel safe. We shall have a good title, as men 
 say in such a case ; they are always careful to have a 
 good title, before they commence any work of this kind. 
 But how we shall get our title is the question." 
 
 The boys were silent, and looked one at the other, en- 
 tirely at a loss what to say or do. They secretly thought 
 that the teacher was far too scruplous in this case. 
 
 At last little John ventured to say that he thought if 
 the teacher would go and ask Mr. Williamson, he 
 guessed that he would let them make their dam. 
 
 " I might ask him," said the teacher, " but one of you 
 can do it just as well. Why cannot we do this as we 
 have done our other business ? appoint some one to 
 do it." 
 
 The countenances of the boys brightened at this 
 proposal, and the teacher requested them to name some 
 one, who would be a good person to undertake the ne- 
 gotiation with ]Mr. Williamson. After some hesita- 
 tion, one of the boys named Samuel, as he was older 
 
16 THE LITTLE .MILL DAM. 
 
 than the rest; but Samuel looked embarrassed, and 
 said tbat he would a Little rather not do it. 
 
 "Why," said the teacher, smiling, "what are you 
 afraid of?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied Samuel; "I should rather 
 some one else would go." 
 
 " Well, we must not compel Samuel to go," replied 
 the teacher. "But then reflect," continued he, ad- 
 dressing himself to Samuel, " that all these boys want 
 you to do it; here is a service, which, if it is perform- 
 ed successfully, will promote the plans and the happi- 
 ness of a great number. 
 
 " It is perfectly proper to make such a request ; there 
 is no probability that it will be denied. There certainly 
 cannot come from it any injury, for the worst that can 
 be anticipated is, that Mr. Williamson should say, ' No ;' 
 and have not you got courage to hear a man say, No ?" 
 
 Samuel laughed, and, after a little more hesitation, 
 said he would go and do as well as he could. 
 
 Various other committees were raised. Two boys 
 were commissioned to go and look at a place where 
 clay could be found, for the teacher told them that clay 
 was the best substance to retain water, and if a good 
 bed of it could be found near, it would be well to line 
 the inside of their dam with it. Others were appoint- 
 ed to find a suitable place to get turf if they should need 
 any, and another still to bring a spade or a hoe to 
 school the next day. And finally two boys were com- 
 missioned to look around in the woods to find a small 
 tree, about eight inches in diameter, which would do to 
 place across, to strengthen the dam ; and Samuel was 
 requested to ask permission of Mr. Williamson to cut 
 such an one down. 
 
 In this, and in similar arrangements, the second re- 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 17 
 
 cess was consumed, and the boys returned to their la- 
 bors in school. 
 
 That night, after school, Samuel went with a trem- 
 bling heart on his mission. He walked slowly along 
 the road until he came to a large farm-house. It stood 
 back from the road in a snug little nook, formed by a 
 turn of the road, and the swelling of the land around 
 and behind it. The house was of one story, and paint- 
 ed red ; and there was in the spacious yards and nu- 
 merous out-buildings an air of prosperity and thrift, 
 which makes an American farm-house so often an 
 agreeable picture. 
 
 Samuel turned up into the yard, inwardly wishing 
 that he had got fairly through his mission. As he 
 was walking up towards the door, he saw that the 
 farmer was busy, with several of his men, laying a 
 wall for the underpinning of a small building which 
 he was about to put up. Samuel's unwillingness to 
 execute the commission intrusted to him, was sensibly 
 increased when he saw himself coming into the far- 
 mer's presence, and especially when he saw that he 
 was busy, and that he was surrounded with other men. 
 He hesitated for a moment, but he reflected that very 
 probably one great object that the teacher had in view- 
 in interesting himself in the plays of the boys, and 
 especially in sending him on such a commission as 
 this, was to teach them all business habits, and to fit 
 them to transact with more energy and system the 
 more important business, in which they would in after 
 life all be from time to time engaged. 
 
 " It is," thought he, " as the teacher said, perfectly 
 proper for roe to attend to this business, and it will 
 teach me a good lesson." So saying, he pushed for- 
 ward boldly towards the place where the farmer was 
 2* * 
 
18 THE LITTLE HILL VJOC. 
 
 at work, and stood before him, waiting till he should 
 be a moment at leisure, as he thought, but really wait- 
 ing because he did not like to begin. 
 
 They who have any duty to perform, if they pro- 
 crastinate it a moment after the proper time for its 
 execution has arrived, only increase the difficulty of 
 executing it at all. And the longer it is delayed, the 
 more difficult it is to begin. So Samuel found it in 
 this case. He waited and waited, hoping that some 
 favorable moment would arrive,. but in vain. He might 
 have known that it would have been in vain to wait, 
 for the farmer had no idea that he wished to speak to 
 him, and consequently went on with his work, talking 
 with his men about the stones and the manner of lay- 
 ing them, and apparently taking no notice that a boy 
 was looking on. At last, however, Samuel became 
 tired of waiting, and wished that he had spoken when 
 he first came up. He now saw that it would have been 
 much more easy to have done it then than after so long 
 a delay. At last, however, after making a desperate 
 effort, he succeeded in saying, 
 
 " Mr. Williamson, the boys want me to- ask you to 
 let us build a dam on your land." 
 
 " What ?" said Mr. Williamson, looking up/surprised, 
 as if he had not rightly understood what Samuel had 
 said to him. 
 
 " The boys want to know if you will let them build 
 a dam behind the school-house on your land." 
 
 " The boys ? what boys ?" 
 
 " The boys that belong to the school." 
 
 " What do they want to build a dam for ?" 
 
 " Only for play," said Samuel ; " they want to build 
 a dam behind the school-house, and we heard the land 
 was yours." 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 19 
 
 " it seems to me this is a strange request," said the 
 farmer. " Boys are not usually quite so scrupulous. I 
 don't understand it." 
 
 " Why, the boys want to build a dam, and the master 
 said we had no right to do it on your land without your 
 leave." 
 
 " Oh ho," said the farmer, " the master ; yes, tell the 
 boys they may build as many dams as they please. I 
 am not afraid of their floating much land," said he, 
 looking at the men who were working with him, and 
 laughing ; " and tell the boys," continued he, " that I 
 am very glad they are so careful about the right of 
 property." 
 
 " There is one thing more," said Samuel, who now 
 felt quite assured and self-possessed, in consequence 
 of the success of his first petition; "there is one thing 
 more ; they wanted me to ask you if they might cut 
 down a small tree about eight inches through." 
 
 "A tree?" said the farmer, "a tree; why, that is 
 another thing altogether. I don't like to have my trees 
 cut down." 
 
 " We only want one," said Samuel. 
 
 " Let me think," said the farmer " a tree ; what 
 kind of a tree do you want ?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied Samuel ; " they did not tell 
 me what kind ; I suppose any tree will do." 
 
 " What do they want it for ?" 
 
 " To make the dam with." 
 
 " To make the dam with ? you are going on a great 
 scale. Yes, I suppose I must let you have a tree ; but 
 then you must go back on the hill for it. I don't like 
 to have any of the trees cut down in the field there 
 back of the school-house." 
 
 " How far back must we go ?" 
 
2U THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ; go up as far as you conveniently 
 can. I had rather they would cut down a hemlock too, 
 if it would answer their purpose as well ; but at any 
 rate they may have one ; and I wish you would tell 
 them that I am glad they take care to get leave ; it is 
 always best to secure a good title." 
 
 The following day was a busy scene at the brook 
 behind the school-house ; the boys were all on the spot 
 at the commencement of the recess. The various 
 committees appeared with their reports, and all with a 
 spirit of enterprise and zeal which would have been 
 amply sufficient to accomplish a much more important 
 undertaking. Several places for the dam were propos- 
 ed. One was objected to, because the banks where 
 the dam would come were too far apart, so as very 
 much to increase the labor of constructing the dam. 
 Another, because, though the stream was narrow where 
 the dam would be formed, the banks above did not re- 
 cede from each other as they ought to, so as to form a 
 large basin to be filled with water when it should rise. 
 A third was found fault with, because it was too far 
 up the stream, making the distance from the school 
 inconvenient. The master explained to the boys that 
 here was a case where the majority must govern. 
 
 "How easy it would be now," said he, "for each 
 one of you to form an opinion, not all to go to talking 
 loudly and boisterously about it, each maintaining his 
 own opinion, and determining not to yield to the others. 
 Then if one party should undertake to begin in one 
 place, the others might begin in another, and thus we 
 might have rival and contending paries. 
 
 " Men have contrived a way to avoid all such danger. 
 They first give each man an opportunity to say all that 
 he wishes to, and then they quietly vote, with the un- 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 21 
 
 derstanding that the majority will rule. Will you do 
 so now ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said all the boys, cordially. 
 
 While the master had thus been speaking, the boys 
 had formed themselves into a ring around him ; and 
 they were now called upon, one by one, to say all they 
 had to say before the question was finally taken. Most 
 of the boys said nothing, for they were not accustomed 
 to regular debate. Various opinions were, however, 
 expressed by others, and then the question was taken. 
 The boys differed in their final vote, but there was a 
 majority in favor of a place a little further up the 
 stream than the late dam, and the boys all seemed to 
 acquiesce pleasantly in the decision. "I have taught 
 them," thought the teacher, as he saw their pleasant 
 countenances, " one good lesson in republicanism." 
 
 The teacher was right. I do not know how much 
 arithmetic or geography he had taught them that day. 
 But that fifteen minutes, with its lessons in the exer- 
 cise of judgment and of calm deliberation, and in the 
 sacrifice of individual preference to the general welfare, 
 and cheerful co-operation for a common purpose, may 
 possibly have been the most valuable fifteen minutes 
 of the day. 
 
 After the place for the dam was thus chosen, the 
 boys said, that the first thing was, to cut down the tree. 
 " No," said the teacher, " that is not the first thing. 
 I have often heard mothers complain, when boys were 
 at work upon dams and ponds, that they wet their 
 feet, and ruudded their clothes, so as to give them a 
 great deal of trouble. Now we must avoid that ; and 
 in order to do it, we must make, first, a little channel 
 on one side of where the dam is going to be, so as to 
 allow the water to pass off there. Then we must put 
 
22 THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 some good dry earth down over the rest of the bed of 
 the stream, so as to have a neat dry place to work m." 
 
 The boys agreed that this was a good plan ; and in 
 a short time this object was accomplished, by the help 
 of a hoe which one of the boys had brought. They 
 made a deep cut on one side of the bed of the stream, 
 as the teacher had proposed, large enough to allow all 
 the water to pass through, so that they might finish 
 the dam completely before they stopped up the passage. 
 They then began to think of going up the stream for 
 a tree. 
 
 The teacher told them, that as the farmer wished 
 them to go as far up the stream as possible, there must 
 be a little calculation in order to determine how far up 
 they could go. He told them, too, that he thought the 
 best plan was for one of the boys to take his watch, 
 and then all the boys could walk along the path which 
 led into the woods, until five minutes of the recess was 
 out. " Then," said the teacher, " you will have five 
 minutes to cut down the tree ; and after that, five mi- 
 nutes more to return. Do you think you can cut down 
 the tree in five minutes ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said all the boys. 
 
 " Well," said the teacher, " you know we must all 
 be in when the recess has expired ; so that if you mee" 
 with any difficulties, you must leave your tree unti 
 next time, should you not get it down, and cut and 
 dimmed and prepared to bring back, at the time allot- 
 ted. Here," said he, " Jack Wilder, you may carry 
 the watch, but remember you must do nothing else, on 
 any account ; and the other boys must leave their 
 work, and set out on their return, immediately, when 
 you say it is time." Then he sat upon the green bank, 
 and saw the company of boys going off on their expe- 
 
THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 23 
 
 dition, Jack Wilder before the rest, holding the watch 
 very carefully, and keeping an almost constant eye 
 upon the minute hand. " The boy is learning a lesson 
 of carefulness," thought he ; " and he needs it, for he is 
 the most careless boy of the company." 
 
 Thus far several days had elapsed, during which no 
 visible progress had been made. The stream flowed just 
 as before, without obstruction, and some of the little 
 boys began to be impatient. When, however, at length, 
 ithe work actually commenced, it proceeded rapidly, 
 and in what some of the boys called a magnificent 
 style. They brought down from the hills the trunk of 
 the tree which they had cut, and they fastened the 
 two ends firmly into the bank on each side, digging 
 trenches for the purpose. They then took a great 
 number of small sticks made of the limbs of their tree, 
 which they drove down obliquely on the upper side of 
 the log which they had placed across, the upper ends 
 of the sticks resting against the log. They then banked 
 p the upper side of the dam with earth, so as to form 
 quite a pathway on the top. A passage-way was left 
 for the water, which they contrived to arch over with 
 stones, the teacher having explained the principles of 
 the arch, and shown them how to construct it in this 
 instance. The work was thus completed, though it 
 was perfectly dry, as the water had passed unobstructed 
 under the arch during all their operations. At last, 
 one day, at the beginning of a recess, one of the boys 
 was commissioned to stop up the arch and allow the 
 -dam to fill. The boys leaped around it with delight 
 as the water rose, filling every corner and every in- 
 dentation in the shore, and rising higher and higher, 
 until it was nearly level with the top. They ran 
 back and forth across the path which the broad top of 
 
24 
 
 THE LITTLE MILL DAM. 
 
 the dam afforded, and leaped in exultation across the 
 stream where it fell into the capacious basin which 
 they had inclosed. 
 
 The teacher sat on the bank enjoying their pleasure. 
 The enjoyment which the whole scene had afforded 
 him did not arise merely from the thought that he had 
 been most effectually teaching them habits of order 
 and system in the transaction of business. He sym- 
 pathized with them in the pleasure of the work : it 
 was amusement to him as well as to them, for, though 
 he was a man, he had not ceased to partake in the 
 feelings of the boy. 
 

 BLACK GILES THE POACHER. 
 
 POACHING GILES* lives on the borders of one of those 
 great moors in Somersetshire. Giles, to be sure, has 
 been a sad fellow in his time ; and it is none of his fault 
 if his whole family do not end their career, either at the 
 gallows or at Botany Bay. He lives at that mud cottage 
 with the broken windows, stuffed with dirty rags, just 
 beyond the gate which divides the upper from the lower 
 moor. You may know the house at a good distance l.y 
 the ragged tiles on the roof, and the loose stones which 
 are ready to drop out from the chimney ; though a short 
 ladder, a hod of mortar, and half an hour's leisure time, 
 would have prevented all this, and made the little dwel- 
 ling tight enough. But as Giles had never learned any 
 thing that was good, so he did not know the value of 
 such useful sayings, as, that 'a tile in time saves nine.' 
 
 Besides this, Giles fell into that common mistake, that 
 a beggarly looking cottage, and filthy ragged children, 
 raised most compassion, and of course drew most char- 
 ity. But as cunning as he was in other things, he was 
 out in his reckoning here ; for it is neatness, housewifery, 
 and a decent appearance, which draw the kindness of 
 the ricli and charitable, while they turn away disgusted 
 from filth and laziness ; not out of pride, but because 
 they see that it is next to impossible to mend the condi- 
 tion of those who degrade themselves by dirt and sloth ; 
 
 * In England the proprietors of the land when they let it to tenants, 
 reserve the riclit to themselves of hunting the game upon it, such aa 
 hares, partridges, &.c. Whenever any other person takes or kills this 
 game it is called poaching. 
 
 3 
 
26 BLACK GILES. 
 
 and few people care to help those who will not help 
 themselves 
 
 The common on which Giles's hovel stands is quite 
 a deep marsh in a wet winter: but in summer it looks 
 green and pretty enough. To he sure it would be rather 
 convenient when one passes that way in a carriage, if 
 one of the children would run out and open the gate : but 
 instead of any one of them running out as soon as they 
 heard the wheels, which would be quite time enough, 
 what does Giles do, but set all his ragged children, with 
 dirty faces, matted locks, and naked feet and legs, to lie 
 all clay upon a sand bank hard by the gate, waiting for 
 the slender chance of what may be picked up from trav- 
 ellers. At the sound of a carriage, a whole covey of 
 these little scare-crows start up, rush to the gate, and all 
 at once thrust out their hats and aprons ; and for fear that 
 this, together with the noise of their clamorous begging, 
 should not sufficiently frighten the horses, they are very 
 apt to let the gate slap full against you, before you are 
 half way through, in their eager scuffle to snatch from 
 each other the halfpence which you have thrown out to 
 lliern. I know two ladies who were one day very near 
 being killed by these abominable tricks. 
 
 Thus five or six little idle creatures, who might be 
 earning a trifle by knitting at home, who might be use- 
 ful to the public by working in the field, and who might 
 assist their families by learning to get their bread twenty 
 honest ways, are suffered to lie about all day, in the 
 hope of a few chance halfpence, which, after all, they 
 are by no means sure of getting. Indeed, when the 
 neighboring gentlemen found out that opening the gate 
 was the family trade, they soon left off giving any thing. 
 And I myself, though I used to take out a penny ready 
 to give, had there been only one to receive it, when I see 
 
BLACK GILES. 5*7 
 
 a whole family established in so beggarly a trade, quietly 
 put it back again in my pocket, and give nothing at all. 
 And so few travellers pass that way, that sometimes 
 after the whole family have lost a day, their gains do 
 not amount to two-pence. 
 
 As Giles had a far greater taste for living by his wits 
 than his work, he was at one time in hopes that his 
 children might have got a pretty penny by tumbling for 
 the diversion of travellers, and he set about training them 
 in that indecent practice ; but unluckily the moors being 
 level, the carriage travelled faster than the children 
 tumbled. He envied those parents who lived on the 
 London road, over the Wiltshire downs, which downs 
 being very hilly, it enables the tumbler to keep pace 
 with the traveller, till he sometimes extorts from the 
 light and unthinking, a reward instead of a reproof. I 
 beg leave, however, to put all gentlemen and ladies in 
 mind, that such tricks are a kind of apprenticeship to the 
 trades of begging and thieving; and that nothing is more 
 injurious to good morals, than to encourage the poor in 
 any habits which may lead them to live upon chance. 
 
 Giles, to be sure, as his children grew older, began to 
 train them to such other employments, as the idle habits 
 they had learned at the gate very properly qualified them 
 for. The right of common, which some of the poor 
 cottagers have in that part of the country, and which is 
 doubtless a considerable advantage to many, was con- 
 verted by Giles, into the means of corrupting his whole 
 family ; for his children, as soon as they grew too big for 
 the trade of begging at the gate, were promoted to the 
 dignity of thieves on the moor. Here he kept two or 
 three asses, miserable beings, which if they had the good 
 fortune to escape an untimely death by starving, did not 
 fail to meet with it by beating. Some of the biggest 
 
BLACK GILES. 
 
 boys were sent out with these lean and galled animals 
 to carry sand or coals about the neighboring towns, 
 Both sand and coals were often stolen before they got 
 them to sell ; or if not, they always took care to cheat in 
 selling them. By long practice in this art, they grew so 
 dexterous, that they could give a pretty good guess how 
 large a coal they could crib out of every bag before the 
 buyer would be likely to miss it. 
 
 All their odd time was taken up under the pretence 
 of watching their asses on the moor, or running after 
 five or six half-starved geese : but the truth is these boys 
 were only watching for an opportunity to steal an odd 
 goose of their neighbor's, while they pretended to look 
 after their own. They used also to pluck the quills or 
 the down from these poor live creatures, or half milk a 
 cow before the farmer's maid came with her pail. They 
 all knew how to calculate to a minute what time to be 
 down in a morning to let out their lank hungry beasts, 
 which they had turned over night into the farmer's field 
 to steal a little good pasture. They contrived to get 
 there just time enough to escape being caught replacing 
 the stakes they had pulled out for the cattle to get 
 over. For Giles was a prudent long-headed fellow; 
 and whenever he stole food for his colts, took care never 
 to steal stakes from the hedges at the same place. He 
 had sense enough to know that the gain did not make 
 up for the danger ; he knew that a loose fagot, pulled 
 from a neighbor's pile of wood after the family were 
 gone to bed, answered the end better, and was not half 
 the trouble. 
 
 Among the many trades which Giles professed, he 
 sometimes practised that of a rat catcher ; but he was 
 addicted to so many tricks, that he. never followed the 
 same trade long ; for detection will, sooner or later, fol- 
 
BLACK GILES. 2U 
 
 low the best concerted villany. Whenever he was sent 
 for to a farm-house, bis custom was to kill a few of the 
 old rats, always taking care to leave a little stock of young 
 ones alive, sufficient to keep up the breed ; ' for,' said he, 
 ' if I were to be such a fool as to clear a house or a barn 
 at once, how would my trade be carried on ?' Arid where 
 any barn was over-stocked, he used to borrow a few 
 rats from thence, just to people a neighboring granary 
 which had none ; and he might have gone on till now, 
 had he not unluckily been caught one evening emptying 
 his cage of rats under parson Wilson's barn door. 
 
 This worthy minister, Mr. Wilson, used to pity the 
 neglected children of Giles, as much as he blamed the 
 wicked parents. He one day picked up Dick, who was 
 far the best of Giles's bad boys. Dick was loitering 
 about in a field behind the minister's garden in search 
 of a hen's nest, his mother having ordered him to bring 
 home a few eggs that night, by hook or by crook, as 
 Giles was resolved to have some pancakes for supper, 
 though he knew that eggs were a penny apiece. Mr. 
 Wilson had long been desirous of snatching some of 
 this vagrant family from ruin ; and his chief hopes were 
 bent on Dick, as the least hackneyed in knavery. He 
 had once given him a new pair of shoes, on his promis- 
 ing to go to school next Sunday; but no sooner had 
 Rachel, the boy's mother, got the shoes into her posses- 
 sion, than she pawned them for a bottle of gin ; and 
 odered the boy to keep out of the parson's sight, and to be 
 sure to play his marbles on Sunday for the future, at the 
 other end of the parish, and not near the church-yard. 
 Mr. Wilson, however, picked up the boy once more, for 
 it was not his way to despair of any body. Dick was 
 just going to take to his heels, as usual, for fear the 
 old story of the shoes should be brought forward ; but, 
 
30 BLACK GILES. 
 
 finding he could not get off, what does he do but run into 
 a little puddle of muddy water which lay between him 
 and the minister, that the sight of his naked feet might 
 not bring on the dreaded subject Now it happened 
 that Mr. Wilson was planting a little field of beans, so he 
 thought'this a good opportunity to employ Dick, and he 
 told him he had got some pretty easy work for him. 
 Dick did as he was bid ; he willingly went to work, and 
 readily began to plant his beans with despatch and regu- 
 larity according to the directions given him. 
 
 While the boy was busily at work by himself, Giles 
 happened to come by, having been skulking round the 
 back way to look over the parson's garden wall, to see 
 if there was any thing worth climbing over for on the 
 ensuing night. He spied Dick, and began to scold him 
 for working for the stingy old parson, for Giles bad a 
 natural antipathy to whatever belonged to the church. 
 'What has he promised thee a day?' said he; 'little 
 enough I dare say.' ' He is not to pay me by the day,' 
 said Dick, ' but says he will give me so much when I 
 have planted this peck, and so much for the next.' ' Oh, 
 oh! that alters the case,' said Giles. 'One may, indeed, 
 get a trifle by this sort of work. I hate your regular 
 day-jobs, where one can't well avoid doing one's work 
 for one's money. Come, give me a handful of the beans, 
 I will teach thee how to plant when thou art paid for 
 planting by the peck. All we have to do in that case is 
 to despatch the work as fast as we can, and get rid of 
 the beans with all speed ; and as to the seed coming up 
 or not, that is no business of ours ; we are paid for 
 planting not for growing. At the rate thou goest on 
 thou wouldst not get sixpence to night Come along, 
 bury away.' So saying he took his hatful of the seed, 
 and where Dick had been ordered to set one bean, Giles 
 
BLACK GILES. 31 
 
 buried a dozen ; of course the beans were soon out. But 
 though the peck was emptied, tlie ground was unplant- 
 ed. But cunning Giles knew this could not be found 
 out till the time when the beans might be expected to 
 come up, 'and then Dick,' says he, 'the snails and the 
 mice may go shares in the blame, or we can lay the 
 fault on the rooks or the black-birds.' So saying he sent 
 the boy into the parsonage to receive his pay, taking 
 care to secure about a quarter of the peck of beans for 
 his own colt. He put both bag and beans into his own 
 pocket to carry home, bidding Dick tell Mr. Wilson that 
 he had planted the beans and lost the bag. 
 
 In the meantime Giles's other boys were busy in emp- 
 tying the ponds and trout streams in the neighboring 
 manor. They would steal away the carp and tench 
 when they were no bigger than gudgeons. By this un- 
 timely depredation they plundered the owner of his 
 property, without enriching themselves. But the pleas- 
 ure of mischief was reward enough. These, and a 
 hundred other little thieveries, they committed with such 
 dexterity, that old Tim Crib, whose son was transported 
 at the last assizes* for sheep stealing, used to be often 
 reproaching his boys that Giles's sons were worth a hun- 
 dred of such blockheads, as he had; for scarce a night 
 passed but Giles had some little comfortable thing for 
 supper which his boys had pilfered iri the day, while 
 his undutiful dogs never stole any thing worth having. 
 Giles, in the meantime, was busy in his way, but as 
 busy as he was in laying his nets, starting coveys, and 
 training dogs, he always took care that his depreda- 
 tions should not be confined merely to game. 
 
 Giles's boys had never seen the inside of a church 
 
 * Session of a court fur the trial of criminals. 
 
32 BLACK GILES. 
 
 since they were christened, and the father thought he 
 knew his own interest better than to force them to it; 
 for church time was the season of their harvest. Then 
 the hens' nests were searched, a stray duck was clapped 
 under the smock frock, the tools which might have heen 
 left by chance in a farm-yard were picked up, and all 
 the neighboring pigeon-houses were thinned, so that 
 Giles used to boast to tawny Rachel his wife, that Sun- 
 day was to them the most profitable day in the week. 
 With her it was certainly the most laborious day, as she 
 always did her washing and ironing on the Sunday 
 morning, it being, as she said, the only leisure day she 
 had, for on the other days she went about the country 
 telling fortunes, and selling dream-books and wicked 
 songs. Neither her husband's nor her children's clothes 
 were ever mended, and if Sunday, her idle day, had not 
 come about once in every week, it is likely they would 
 never have been washed neither You might however 
 see her as you were going to church smoothing her 
 own rags on her best red cloak, which she always used 
 for her ironing-cloth on Sundays, for her cloak when 
 she travelled, and for her blanket at night ; such a 
 wretched manager was Rachel! Among her other 
 articles of trade, one was to make and sell peppermint, 
 and other distilled waters. These she had the cheap art 
 of making without trouble and without expense, for she 
 made them without herbs and without a still. Her way 
 was, to fill so many quart bottles with plain water, put- 
 ting a spoonful of mint water in the mouth of each 
 these she corked down with rosin, carrying to each cus- 
 tomer a phial of real distilled water to taste by way of 
 sample. This was so good that her bottles were common- 
 ly bought up without being opened ; but if any suspicion 
 arose, and she was forced to uncork a bottle, by the few 
 
BLACK OfLKS. 33 
 
 drops of distilled waters lying at the top, she even then 
 escaped detection, and took care to get out of reach 
 before the bottle was opened a second time. She was 
 too prudent ever to go twice to the same house. 
 
 There is hardly any petty mischief that is not con- 
 nected with the life of a poacher. Mr. Wilson was aware 
 of this ; he was not only a pious clergyman, but an up- 
 right justice. He used to say, that people who were 
 truly conscientious, must be so in small things as well 
 as in great ones, or they would destroy the effect of their 
 own precepts, and their example would not be of gene- 
 ral use. For this reason he never would accept of a 
 hare or a partridge from any unqualified person* in the 
 parish: He did not content himself with shuffling the 
 thing off by asking questions, and pretending to take it 
 for granted in a general way that the game was fairly 
 come at ; but he used to say, that by receiving the booty 
 he connived at a crime, made himself a sharer in it; and 
 if he gave a present to the man who brought it, he even 
 tempted him to repeat the fault. 
 
 One day poor Jack Weston, an honest fellow in the 
 neighborhood, whom Mr. Wilson had kindly visited and 
 relieved in a long sickness, from which he was but just 
 recovered, was brought before him as he was sitting on 
 the justice's bench ; Jack was accused of having knocked 
 down a hare ; and of all the birds in the air who should 
 the informer be but black Giles the poacher ? Mr. Wilson 
 was grieved at the charge ; he had a great regard for 
 Jack, but he had still a greater regard for the law. The 
 poor fellow pleaded guilty. He did not deny the fact, 
 but said he did not consider it as a crime, for he did 
 not think game was private property, and he owned he 
 
 *That is any person whom he knew not to be authorised to hunt 
 tbera. 
 
34 BLACK GILKS. 
 
 had a strong temptation for doing what lie had done, 
 which he hoped would plead his excuse. The justice 
 desired to know what this temptation \vas. ' Sir,' said 
 the poor fellow, ' you know J was given over this spring 
 in a bad fever. I had no friend in the world hut you, 
 sir. Under God you saved my life hy your charitable 
 relief; and I trust also you may have helped to save my 
 soul by your prayers and your good advice ; for, by the 
 grace of God, I have turned over a new leaf since that 
 sickness. 
 
 'I know 1 can never make you amends for all your 
 goodness, hut I thought it would be some comfort to 
 my full heart if 1 could but once give you some little 
 token of my gratitude. So I had trained a pair of nice 
 turtle doves for madam Wilson, but they were stolen 
 from me, sir, and 1 do suspect black Giles stole them. 
 Yesterday morning, sir, as I was crawling out to my 
 work, for 1 am still but very weak, a fine hare ran across 
 niy path. I did not stay to consider whether it was 
 wrong to kill a hare, but I felt it was right to show my 
 gratitude ; so, sir, without a moment's thought 1 did 
 knock down the hare, which I was going to carry to 
 your worship, because I knew madam was fond of hare. 
 I am truly sorry for my fault, and will submit to what- 
 ever punishment your worship may please to inflict.' 
 
 Mr. Wilson was much moved with this honest con- 
 fession, and touched with the poor fellow's gratitude. 
 What added to the effect of the story, was the weak 
 condition and pale sickly looks of the offender. r?ut 
 this worthy magistrate never suffered his feelings to bias 
 *iis integrity ; he knew that he did not sit on that bench 
 to indulge pity, but to administer justice; and while he 
 was sorry for the offender, he would never justify the 
 offence. 'John,' said he, ' 1 am suprised that you could 
 
BLACK GILES. 35 
 
 for a moment forget that I never accept any gift which 
 causes the giver to break a law. On Sunday I teach 
 you from the pulpit the laws of God, whose minister I 
 arn. At present I fill the chair of the magistrate, to en- 
 force and execute the laws of the land. Between those 
 and the others there is more connection than you are 
 aware. I thank you, John, for your affection to me, and 
 I admire your gratitude ; but I must not allow either 
 affection or gratitude to be brought as a plea for a wrong 
 action. It is not your business nor mine, John, to settle 
 whether the game laws are good or bad. Till they are 
 repealed we must obey them. 3Iany, I doubt not, 
 break these laws through ignorance, and many, I am 
 certain, who would not dare to steal a goose or a turkey, 
 make no scruple of knocking down a hare or a partridge. 
 You will hereafter think yourself happy that this your 
 first attempt has proved unsuccessful, as I trust you are 
 too honest a fellow ever to intend to turn poacher. 
 With poaching much moral evil is connected ; a habit of 
 nightly depredation ; a custom of prowling in the dark 
 for prey produces in time a disrelish for honest labor. 
 He whose first offence was committed without much 
 thought or evil intention, if he happens to succeed a few 
 times in carrying off his booty undiscovered, grows 
 bolder and bolder: and when lie fancies there is no 
 shame attending it, he very soon gets to persuade him- 
 self that there also is no sin. While some people pre- 
 tend a scruple about stealing a sheep, they partly live by 
 plundering of warrens. But remember that the war 
 rener pays a high rent, and that therefore his rabbits 
 are as much his property as his sheep. Do not then 
 deceive yourselves with these false distinctions. \I1 
 property is sacred, and as the laws of the land are in- 
 tended to fence in that property, he who brings up his 
 
36 RT.ACK GILES. 
 
 children to break down any of these fences, brings them 
 up to certain sin and ruin. He who begins with rob- 
 bing orchards, rabbit-warrens, and fish-ponds, will pro- 
 bably end with horse-stealing or high-way robbery. 
 Poaching is a regular apprenticeship to bolder crimes, 
 lie whom I may commit as a boy to sit in the stocks 
 for killing a partridge, may be likely to end at the gal- 
 lows for killing a man. 
 
 ' Observe, you who now hear me, the strictness and 
 impartiality of justice. I know Giles to be a worthless 
 fellow, yet it is my duty to take his information ; I know 
 Jack Weston to l)e an honest youth, yet I must be oblig- 
 ed to make him pay the penalty. Giles is a bad man, 
 but he can prove this fact; Jack is a worthy lad, but 
 he has committed this fault I am sorry for you, Jack ; 
 but do not let it grieve you that Giles has played worse 
 tricks a hundred times, and yet got off, while you were 
 detected in the very first offence, for that would be 
 grieving because you are not as great a rogue as Giles. 
 At this moment you think your good luck is very une- 
 qual ; but all this will one day turn out in your favor. 
 Giles is not the more a favorite of Heaven because he 
 has hitherto escaped Botany Bay, or the hulks ; nor is it 
 any mark of God's displeasure against you, John, that 
 you were found out in your very first attempt.' 
 
 Here the good justice left off speaking, and no one 
 could contradict the truth of what he had said. Westou 
 humbly submitted to his sentence, but he was very poor,- 
 and knew not where to raise the money to pay his fine. 
 His character had always been so fair, that several farm- 
 ers present kindly agreed to advance a trifle each to 
 prevent his being sent to prison, and he thankfully pro- 
 raised to work out the debt The justice himself, though 
 he could not soften the law, yet showed Weston so 
 
BLACK GILES. 37 
 
 much kindness, that lie was enabled before the year was 
 out, to get out of this difficulty. He began to think 
 more seriously than he had ever yet done, and grew to 
 abhor poaching, not merely from fear, but from prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 I think my readers have by this time become so well 
 acquainted with black Giles the poacher, that they will 
 not expect to hear any great good, either of Giles him- 
 self, his wife Rachel, or any of their family. I am sorry 
 to expose their tricks, but it is their fault, not mine. If 
 1 pretend to speak about people at all, I must tell the 
 truth. I am sure, if folks would but turn about and 
 mend, it would be a thousand times pleasanter to me to 
 write their histories ; for it is no comfort to tell of any 
 body's faults. If the world would but grow good, I 
 should be glad enough to publish it ; but till it really be- 
 comes so, I must goon describing it as it is; otherwise, I 
 should only mislead my readers, instead of instructing 
 them. It is the duty of a faithful historian to relate the 
 evil with the good. 
 
 As to Giles and his boys, I am sure old widow Brown 
 has good reason to remember their dexterity. Pool- 
 woman ! she had a fine little bed of onions, in her neat 
 and well-kept garden ; she was very fond of her onions, 
 and many a rheumatism has she caught by kneeling 
 down to weed them in a damp day, notwithstanding the 
 little flannel cloak and the bit of an old mat which 
 madam Wilson gave her, because the old woman would 
 needs weed in wet weather. Her onions she always 
 carefully treasured up for her winter's store ; for an 
 onion makes a little broth very relishing, and is indeed 
 the only savoury thing poor people are used to get. 
 She had also a small orchard, containing about a dozen 
 apple-trees, with which in a good year she had been 
 4 
 
,18 BLACK GILES. 
 
 known to make a couple of barrels of cider, which she 
 sold to her landlord towards paying her rent, besides 
 having a little keg which she was able to keep back for 
 her own drinking. Well! would you believe it, Gilea 
 and his boys marked both onions and apples for their 
 own ; indeed, a man who stole so many rabbits from the 
 warrener, was likely enough to steal onions for sauce. 
 One day, when the widow was abroad on a little busi- 
 ness, Giles and his boys made a clear riddance of the 
 onion bed ; and when they had pulled up every single 
 onion, they then turned a couple of piga into the garden, 
 who, allured by the smell, tore up the bed in such a 
 manner, that the widow, when she came home, had not 
 the least doubt but the pigs had been the thieves. To 
 confirm this opinion, they took care to taave the latch 
 half open at one end of the garden, and to break down a 
 slight fence at the other end. 
 
 I wonder how aay body can find in his heart not to 
 pity and respect poor old widows. There is something 
 so forlorn and helpless in their condition, that methinka 
 it is a call on every body, men, women, and children, to 
 do them all the kind services that fall in their way. 
 Surely their having no one to take their part, is an addi- 
 tional reason for kind-hearted people not to hurt and 
 oppress them. But it was this very reason which led 
 Giles to do this woman an injury. With what a touch- 
 ing simplicity is it recorded in Scripture, of the youth 
 whom our blessed Savior raised from the dead, that he 
 was the only son of his mother, and she a widow ! 
 
 It happened unluckily for poor widow Brown that 
 her cottage stood quite alone. On several mornings 
 together, (for roguery gets up much earlier than industry,) 
 Giles and his boys stole regularly into her orchard, fol- 
 lowed by their jack-asses. She was so deaf that she 
 
39 
 
 could not hear the asses if they had brayed ever so loud, 
 and to this Giles trusted ; lor lt was very cautious in 
 his rogueries; since lie could not otherwise have con- 
 tvived so long to keep out of prison } for though he was 
 almost always suspected, he had seldom been taken up, 
 and never convicted. The boys used to fill tlteir bags, 
 load their asses, and then inarch off"; and if in their way 
 to the town where the apples were to be sold they chanc- 
 ed to pass by one of their neighbors who might be likely 
 to suspect them, they then all at once began to scream 
 out, ' Buy my coal 1 buy my sand ! ' 
 
 Besides the trees in her orchard, poor widow Brown 
 had in her small garden, one apple-tree particularly fine; 
 it was a redstreak, so tempting and so lovely, that Giles's 
 family had watched it with longing eyes, till at last they 
 resolved on a plan for carrying off" all this fine fruit in 
 their bags. But it was a nice point to manage. The 
 tree stood directly under her chamber-window, so that 
 there was some danger that she might spy them at the 
 work. They therefore determined to wait till the next 
 Sunday morning, when they knew she would not fail to 
 be at church. Sunday came, and during service Giles 
 attended. It was a lone house, as I said before, and the 
 rest of the parish were safe at church. In a trice the 
 tree was cleared, the bags were filled, the asses were 
 whipped, the thieves were off, the coast was clear, and 
 all was safe and quiet by the time the sermon was over. 
 
 Unluckily, however, it happened, that this tree was 
 so beautiful, and the firuit so fine, that the people, as 
 they used to pass to and from the church, were very apt 
 to stop and admire widow Brown's red-streaks : and 
 some of the farmers rather envied her that in that scarce 
 season, when they hardly expected to make a pie out 
 of a large orchard, she was likely to Tiake a cask of cider 
 
40 BLACK GILES. 
 
 from a single tree. I am afraid, indeed, if I must speak 
 out, she herself rather set her heart too much upon this 
 fruit, and had felt as much pride in her tree as gratitude 
 to a good Providence for it; but this foiling of hers was 
 no excuse for Giles. The covetousness of this thief had 
 for once got the better of his caution ; the tree was too 
 completely stripped, though the youngest boy Dick did 
 beg hard that his father would leave the poor old woman 
 enough for a few dumplings; and when Giles ordered 
 Dick in his turn to shake the tree, the boy did it so gently 
 that hardly any apples fell, for which he got a good stroke 
 of the stick with which tlia old man was beating down 
 the apples. 
 
 The neighbors on their return from church stopped as 
 usual, but it was not, alas! to admire the apples, for 
 apples there were none left, but to lament the robbery, 
 and console the widow; meantime the red-streaks were 
 safely lodged in Giles's hovel under a few bundles of new 
 hay which he had contrived to pull from the farmer's 
 mow the night before, for the use of his "jack-asses. 
 Such a stir, however, began to be made about the wid- 
 ow's apple-tree, that Giles, who knew how much his 
 character had laid him open to suspicion, as soon as he 
 saw the people safe in church again in the afternoon, 
 ordered his lx>ys to carry each a hatful of the apples and 
 thrust them in at a little casement window which hap- 
 pened to be open in the house of Samuel Price, a very 
 honest carpenter in that parish, who was at church with 
 his whole family. Giles's plan, by this contrivance, was 
 to lay the theft on Price's sons- in case the thing should 
 come to be further inquired into. Here Dick put in a 
 word, and begged and prayed his father not to force 
 them to carry the apples to Price's. But all that he got 
 by his begging was such a knock as had nearly laid him 
 
BLACK GILES. 41 
 
 on the earth. 'What, you cowardly rascal,' said Giles, 
 you will go and ''peach, I suppose, and get your father 
 sent to gaol.' 
 
 Poor widow Brown, though her trouble had made 
 her still weaker than she was, went to church again in 
 the afternoon: indeed she rightly thought that her being 
 in trouble was a new reason why she ought to go. Dur- 
 ing the service she tried with all her might not to think 
 of her red-streaks, and whenever they would come into 
 her head, she took up her prayer-book directly, and so 
 she forgot them a little ; and indeed she found herself 
 much easier when she came out of the church than 
 when she went in ; an effect so commonly produced by 
 prayer, that methinks it is a pity people do not try it 
 oftener. Now it happened oddly enough, that on that 
 Sunday, of all the Sundays in the year, the widow 
 should call in to rest a little at Samuel Price's, to tell 
 over again the lamentable story of the apples, and to 
 consult with him how the thief might be brought to 
 justice. But O, reader! guess if you can, for I am sure 
 I cannot tell you, what was her surprise, when, on going 
 into Samuel Price's kitchen, she saw her own red- 
 streaks lying on the window! The apples were of a sort 
 too remarkable, for color, shape, and size, to be mistaken. 
 There was not such another tree in the parish. Widow 
 Brown immediately screamed out, * Alas-a-day ! as sure 
 as can be, here are my red-streaks ; I could swear to 
 them in any court.' Samuel Price, who believed his 
 sons to be as honest as himself, was shocked and troub- 
 led at the sight. He knew he had no red-streaks of his 
 own, he knew there were no apples in the window 
 when he went to church: he did verily believe these 
 apples to be the widow's. But how they came there he 
 could not possibly guess. He called for Tom. the only 
 4* 
 
42 BLACK GILES. 
 
 one of bis sons who now lived at home. Tom was at 
 the Sunday-school, which he had never once missed 
 since Mr. Wilson the minister had set up one in the 
 parish. Was such a hoy likely to do such a deed ! 
 
 A crowd was by this time got about Price's door, 
 among which were Giles and his boys, who had already 
 taken care to spread the news that Tom Price was the 
 thief. Most people were unwilling to believe it. His 
 character was very good, but appearances were strongly 
 against him. Mr. |t\Tilson, who had staid to christen a 
 child, now came in. He was much concerned that 
 Tom Price, the best boy ia his school, should stand ac- 
 cused of such a crime. He sent for the boy, examined, 
 and cross-examined him. No marks of guilt appeared. 
 But still though l>e pleaded not guilty f there lay the red- 
 streaks in his fathers window. All the idle fellows in 
 the place, who were most likely to have committed such 
 a theft themselves, were the very people who fell with 
 vengeance on poor Tom. The wicked seldom give 
 any quarter, 'This is oae of your sanctified ones!* 
 cried they. ' This was all the good that Sundtiy-schools 
 did ! For their parts they never saw any good come by 
 religion. Sunday was the only day for a little pastime, 
 and if poor boys must be shut up with their godly books,, 
 when they ought to be out taking a little pleasure, it was 
 no wonder they made lli.'in. i-lves amends by such tricks/ 
 Another said he should like to see parson Wilson's right- 
 eous one well whipped. A third hoped he would be- 
 clapped in the stocks for a young hypocrite as he was ; 
 while old Giles, who thought the only way to avoid 
 suspicion was by being more violent than the rest, de- 
 clared, ' that he hoped the young dog would be trans- 
 ported for life.' 
 
 Mr. Wilson was too wise and too just to proceed 
 
BLACK GILES. 43 
 
 against Tom without full proof. He declared the crime 
 was a very heavy one, and he feared that heavy must 
 be the punishment. Tom, who knew his own inno- 
 cence, earnestly prayed to God that it might be made to 
 appear as clear as the noon-day ; and very fervent were 
 his secret devotions on that night. 
 
 Black Giles passed his night in a very different man- 
 ner. He set off as soon as it was dark, with his sons 
 and then jack-asses, laden with their stolen goods. As 
 such a cry was raised about the apples, he did not think 
 it safe to keep them longer at home, but resolved to go 
 and sell them at the next town ; borrowing without 
 leave a lame colt out of the moor to assist in carrying off 
 his booty. 
 
 Giles and his eldest sons had rare sport all the way in 
 thinking, that while they were enjoying the profit of their 
 plunder, Tom Price would be whipt round the market 
 place at least, if not sent beyond sea. But the younger 
 boy Dick, who had naturally a tender heart, though 
 hardened by his long familiarity with sin, could not help 
 -n-ying, when he thought that Tom Price might, perhaps, 
 l>e transported for a crime which he himself had helped 
 to commit. He had had no compunction about the 
 robbery, for he had not been instructed in the great 
 principles of truth and justice ; nor would he therefore, 
 perhaps, have had much remorse about accusing an 
 innocent boy. But, though utterly devoid of principle, 
 he had some remains of natural feeling and of gratitude. 
 Tom Price had often given him a bit of his own bread 
 and cheese ; and once, when Dick was like to be drowned, 
 Tom had jumped into the pond with his clothes on, and 
 saved his life when he was just sinking ; the remem- 
 brance of all this made his heart heavy. He said noth- 
 ing ; but as he trotted barefoot after the asses, he heard 
 
44 BLACK GILES. 
 
 his father and brothers laugh at having; outwitted the 
 godly ones; and he grieved to think how poor Tom 
 would suffer for his wickedness, yet fear kept him silent ; 
 they called him a sulky dog, and lashed the asses till 
 they bled. 
 
 In the meantime Tom Price kept up his spirits as well 
 as he could. He worked hard all day, and prayed hearti- 
 ly night and morning. It is true, said he to himself, I 
 am not guilty of this sin ; but let this accusation set me 
 on examining myself, and truly repenting of all my other 
 sins; for I find enough to repent of, though I thank God 
 I did not steal the widow's apples. 
 
 At length Sunday came^ and Tom went to school as 
 usual. As soon as he walked in there was a great deal 
 of whispering and laughing among the worst of the 
 boys ; and he overheard them say, ' Who would have 
 thought it? This is master's favorite ! This is parson 
 Wilson's sober Tommy ! We shan't have Tommy 
 thrown in our teeth again if we go to get a bird's nest, or 
 gather a few nuts on a Sunday.' 'Your demure ones 
 are always hypocrites,' says another. ' The still pig 
 gets all the milk,' says a third. 
 
 Giles's family had always kept clear of the school. 
 Dick, indeed, had sometimes wished to go ; not that he 
 had much sense of sin, or desire after goodness, but he 
 thought if he could once read, he might rise in the 
 world, and not be forced to drive asses all his life. 
 Through this whole Saturday night he could not sleep. 
 He longed to know what would be done to Tom. He 
 began to wish to go to school, but he had not courage ; 
 sin is very cowardly. So on the Sunday morning he 
 went and sat himself down under the church wall. Mr. 
 Wilson passed by. It was not his way to reject the 
 most wicked, till he had tried every means to bring them 
 
BLACK GILES. 45 
 
 over; and even th3n he pitied and prayed for them. 
 lie had, indeed, long left off talking to Giles's sons ; but 
 seeing Dick sitting by himself, he once more spoke to 
 him, desired him to leave off his vagabond life, and go 
 with him into the school. The boy hung down his 
 }>ead, but made no answer. He did not, however, either 
 rise up and run away, or look sulky, as he used to do. 
 The minister desired him once more to go. ' Sir,' said 
 the boy, ' I can't go ; I am so big I am ashamed.' ' The 
 bigger you are the less time you have to lose.' ' But, 
 sir, I can't read.' ' Tjien it is high time you should 
 learn.' ' I should be ashamed to begin to learn my let- 
 ters.' 'The shame is not in beginning to learn them, 
 but in being contented never to know them.' ' But, sir, 
 I am so ragged ! ' ' God looks at the heart, and not at 
 the coat.' 'But, sir, I have no shoes atyl stockings.' 'So 
 much the worse. I remember who gave you both 
 (Here Dick colored.) It is bad to want shoes and stock- 
 inirs, but still if you can drive your asses a dozen miles 
 without them, you may certainly walk a hundred yards 
 to school without them.' 'But, sir, the good boys will 
 hate me, and won't speak to me.' ' Good boys hate no- 
 body ; and as to not speaking to you, to be sure they 
 will not keep your company while you go on in your 
 present evil courses, but as soon as they see you wish to 
 reform, they Avill help you, and pity you, and teach you ; 
 and so come along.' Here Mr. Wilson took this dirty 
 boy by the hand, and gently pulled him forward, kindly 
 talking to him all the way, in the most condescending 
 manner. 
 
 How the whole school stared to see Dick Giles come 
 in ! No one, however, dared to say what he thought. 
 The business went on, and Dick slunk into a corner, 
 partly to hide his rags, and partly to hide his sin ; for 
 
46 BLACK GILES. 
 
 last Sunday's transaction sat heavy on his heart, not be- 
 cause he had stolen the apples, but because Tom Price 
 had been accused. This, I say, made him slink behind. 
 Poor boy! he little thought there was OXE saw him 
 who sees all things, and from whose eye no hole nor 
 corner can hide the sinner ; ' for He is about our bed, 
 and about our path, and spieth out all our ways.' 
 
 It was the custom in that school, and an excellent 
 custom it is, for the master, who was a good and wise 
 man, to mark down in his pocket-book all the events of 
 the week, that he might turn them to some account in 
 his Sunday evening instructions ; such as any useful 
 story in the newspaper, any account of boys being 
 drowned as they were out in a pleasure-boat on Sundays, 
 any sudden death in the parish, or any other remarkable 
 visitation of Providence; insomuch, that many young 
 people in the place, who did not belong to the school, 
 and many parents also, used to drop in for an hour on a 
 Sunday evening, when they were sure to hear something 
 profitable. The minister greatly approved this practice, 
 and often called in himself, which was a great support 
 to the master, and encouragement to the people who 
 attended. 
 
 The master had taken a deep concern in the story of 
 widow Brown's apple tree. He could not believe Tom 
 Price was guilty, nor dared he pronounce him innocent: 
 but he resolved to turn the instructions of the present 
 evening to this subject. He began thus: 'My dear boys, 
 however light some of you may make of robbing an 
 orchard, yet I have often told you there is no such thing 
 as a little sin, if it be wilful or habitual. I Avish now to 
 explain to you, also, that there is hardly such a thing as 
 a single solitary sin. You know I teach you not merely 
 to repeat the commandments as an exercise for your 
 
BLACK GILES. 47 
 
 memory, but as ft rule for your conduct. If you were 
 to come here only to learn to read and spell on a Sunday, 
 I should think that was not employing God's day for 
 God's works; but I teach you to read that you may, by 
 this means, come so to understand the Bible and the 
 Catechism, as to make every text in the one, and every 
 question and answer in the other, to be so fixed in your 
 hearts, that they may bring forth in you the fruits of 
 good living.' 
 
 Master. How many commandments are there ? 
 
 Boy. Ten. 
 
 Master. How many commandments did that boy 
 break who stole widow Brown's apples? 
 
 Boy. Only one, master ; the eighth. 
 
 Master. What is the eighth ? 
 
 Boy. Thou shalt not steal. 
 
 Master. And you are very sure that this was the only 
 one he broke? Now suppose I cou'cl prove to you that 
 he probably broke not less than six out of those ten 
 commandments, which the great Lord of heaven him- 
 self stooped down from his eternal glory to deliver to 
 men, would you not, then, think it a terrible thing to 
 steal, whether apples or guineas ? 
 
 Boy. Yes, master. 
 
 Master. I will put the case. Some wicked boy has 
 robbed widow Brown's orchard. (Here the eyes of 
 every one were turned on poor Tom Price, except those 
 of Dick Giles, who fixed his on the ground.) I accuse 
 no one, continued the master, Tom Price is a good boy 
 and was not missing at the time of the robbery ; these 
 are two reasons why I presume that he is innocent ; but 
 whoever it was, you allow that by stealing these apples 
 he broke the eighth commandment ? 
 
 Bojf. Yes, master, 
 
48 LACK GILES, 
 
 Master. On what day were these apples stolen ? 
 
 Boy. On Sunday. 
 
 Master. What is the fourth commandment? 
 
 Boy. Thou shall keep holy the Sahhath-day. 
 
 Master. Does that person keep holy the Sabhatn-day 
 who loiters in an orchard on Sunday, when he snould 
 be at church, and steals apples when he ought to be say- 
 ing his prayers? 
 
 Boy. No, Master. 
 
 Master. What command does he break ? 
 
 Boy. The fourth. 
 
 Master. Suppose this boy had parents who had sent 
 him to church, and that he had disobeyed them by not 
 going, would that be keeping the fifth commandment ? 
 
 Boy. No, master; for the fifth commandment says, 
 Thou sJmlt honor thy father and thy mother. 
 
 This was the only part of the case in which poor 
 Dick Giles's heart did not 'smite him ; he knew he had 
 disobeyed no father; for his father, alas ! was still wick- 
 eder than himself, and had brought him up to commit 
 the sin. But what a wretched comfort was this ? The 
 master went on. 
 
 Master. Suppose this boy earnestly coveted this fruit, 
 though it belonged to another person, would that be 
 right ? 
 
 Boy. No, master ; for the tenth commandment says, 
 Thou shalt not covet. 
 
 Master. Very well. Here are four of God's positive 
 commands already broken. Now do you think thieves 
 ever scruple to use wicked words ? 
 
 Boy. I am afraid not, master. 
 
 Here Dick- Giles was not so hardened but that he 
 remembered how many curses had passed between him 
 and his father while they were filling the bags, and he 
 was afraid to look up. Thf mnstor wont on. 
 
BtACK GILES. 49 
 
 1 will now go one step further. If the thief, to all his 
 other sins, has added that of accusing the innocent to 
 save himself, if he should break the ninth commandment, 
 by bearing false witness against a harmless neighbor, then 
 six commandments are broken for an apple ! But if it 
 be otherwise, if Tom Price should be found guilty, it is 
 not his good character shall save him. I shall shed tears 
 over him, hut punish him I must, and that severely. 
 ' No, that you shan't,' roared out Dick Giles, who sprung 
 from his hiding place, fell on his knees, and burst out a 
 crying, ' Tom Price is as good a boy as ever lived ; it 
 was father and I who stole the apples ! ' 
 
 It would have done your heart good to have seen the 
 joy of the master, the modest blushes of Tom Price, and 
 the satisfaction of every honest boy in the school. All 
 shook hands with Tom, and even Dick got some portion 
 of pity. 1 wish I had room to give my readers the 
 moving exhortation which the master gave. But while 
 Mr. Wilson left the guilty boy to the management of the 
 master, he thought it became him, as a minister and a 
 magistrate, to go to the extent of the law in punishing 
 the father. Early on the Monday morning he sent to 
 apprehend Giles. In the meantime Mr. Wilson was 
 sent for to a gaidoner's house two miles distant, to attend 
 a man who was dying. This was a duty to which all 
 others gave way in his mind. He set out directly ; but 
 what was his surprise, on his arrival, to see, on a little 
 bed on the floor, poaching Giles lying in all the agonies 
 of death ! Jack Weston, the same poor young man 
 against whom Giles had informed for killing a hare, was 
 kneeling by him, offering him some broth, and talking 
 to him in the kindest manner. Mr. Wilson begged to 
 know the meaning of all this ; and Jack Weston spoke 
 as follows: 
 
50 
 
 BLACK 
 
 'At four n< the morning, ns I was going out to mow, 
 passing under the high wall of this garden, I heard a 
 most dismal moaning. The nearer I came the more 
 dismal it grew. At last, who should I see but poor Giles 
 groaning, and struggling under a quantity of bricks and 
 stones, but not able to stir. The day before he had marked 
 a fine large net on this old wall, and resolved to steal it, 
 for he thought it might do as well to catch partridges aa 
 to preserve cherries ; so, sir, standing on the very top of 
 this wall, and tugging with all his might to loosen the net 
 from the hooks which fastened it, down came Giles, net, 
 wall, and all ; for the wall was gone to decay. It was 
 very kigh indeed, and poor Giles not only broke his 
 thigh, but has got a terrible blow on his head, and is 
 bruised all over like a mummy. On seeing me, sir, poor 
 Giles cried out, " Oh, Jack ! I did try to ruin thee by 
 lodging that information, and now thou wilt be revenged 
 by letting me lie here and perish." " God forbid, Giles! 
 cried I ; thou shall see what sort of revenge a Christian 
 takes." So, sir, I sent oft' the gardener's boy to fetch a 
 surgeon, while I scampered home and brought on my 
 back this bit of a hammock, which is indeed my own 
 bed, and put Giles upon it . we then lifted him up, bed 
 and all, as tenderly as if he had been a gentleman, and 
 brought him in here. My wife has just brought him a 
 drop of nice broth ; and now, sir, as I have done what I 
 could for this poor perishing body, it was I who took the 
 liberty to send to you to come to try to help his poor 
 soul, for the doctor says he can't live.' 
 
 Mr. Wilson could not help saying to himself, Such an 
 action as this is worth a whole volume of comments on 
 that precept of our blessed Master, Love your cntmies; 
 do good to them that hate you. Giles's dying groans con- 
 firmed the sad account Weston had just given. The 
 
BtAGK GILES. 81 
 
 poor wretch rould neither pn;y himself nor attend to the 
 minister. He could only cry out, 'Oh! sir, what will 
 become of me? I don't know how to repent. O my 
 poor wicked children ! Sir, I have bred them all up in 
 sin and ignorance. Have mercy on them, sir ; let me 
 not meet them in the place of torment to which I am 
 going. Lord grant them that time for repentance which 
 I have thrown away ! ' He languished a few days, and 
 died in great misery: a fresh and sad instance that 
 people who abuse the grace of God and resist his Spirit, 
 find it difficult to repent when they will. 
 
 Except the minister and Jack Weston, no one came 
 to see poor Giles, besides Tommy Price, who had been 
 so sadly wronged by him. Tom often brought him his 
 own rice-milk or apple-dumpling ; and Giles, ignorant 
 and depraved as he was, often cried out, ' That he thought 
 now there must be some truth in religion, since it taught 
 even a boy to deny himself, and to forgive an injury. 
 Mr. Wilson the next Sunday, made a moving discourse 
 on the danger of what are called petty offences. This, 
 together with the awful death of Giles, produced such 
 an effect, that no poacher has been able to show his 
 head in that parish ever since. 
 
 TAW NET RACHEL, was the wife of poaching Giles. 
 There seemed to be a conspiracy in Giles's whole fami- 
 ly to maintain themselves by tricks and pilfering. Reg- 
 ular labor and honest industry did not suit their idle 
 habits. They had a sort of genius at finding out every 
 unlawful means to support a vagabond life. Rachel 
 travelled the country with a basket on her arm. She 
 pretended to get her bread by selling laces, cabbage-nets, 
 ballads and history books, and used to buy old rags and 
 rabbit skins. Many honest people trade in these things, 
 
52 BLACK GILES. 
 
 and I am sure I do not mean to say a word against 
 honest people, let them trade in what they will But 
 Rachel only made this traffic a pretence for getting ad- 
 mittance into farmers' kitchens in order to tell fortunes. 
 
 She was continually practising on the credulity of 
 silly girls; and took advantage of their ignorance to 
 cheat and deceive them. Many an innocent servant has 
 she caused to be suspected of a robbery, while she her- 
 self, perhaps, was in league with the thief. Many a 
 harmless maid has she brought to ruin by first contriving 
 plots and events herself, and then pretending to foretell 
 them. She had not, to be sure, the power of really for- 
 telling things, because she had no power of seeing into 
 futurity : but she had the art sometimes to bring them 
 about according as she foretold them. So she got that 
 credit for her wisdom which really belonged to her 
 wickedness. 
 
 Rachel was also a famous interpreter of dreams, and 
 could distinguish exactly between the fate of any two 
 persons who happened to have a mole on the right or 
 the left cheek> She had a cunning way of getting her- 
 self off when any of her prophecies failed. When she 
 explained a dream according to the natural appearance 
 of things, and it did not come to pass; then she would 
 get out of that scrape by saying, that this sort of dreams 
 went by Contraries. Now of two very opposite things, 
 the chance always is that one of them may turn out to 
 be true ; so in either case she kept up the cheat. 
 
 Rachel, in one of her rambles, stopped at the house of 
 farmer Jenkins. She contrived to call when she knew 
 the master of the house was from home, which indeed 
 was her usual way. She knocked at the door; the 
 maids being in the field haymaking, Mrs. Jenkins went 
 to open it herself. Rachel asked her if she won hi please 
 
BLACK GILES. DO 
 
 to let her light her pipe? This was a common pretence, 
 when she could find no other way of getting into a 
 house. While she was filling her pipe, she looked at 
 Mrs. Jenkins, and said, she could tell her some good 
 fortune. The farmer's wile, who was a very inoffensive, 
 but a weak and superstitious woman, was curious to 
 know what she meant. Rachel then looked about care- 
 fully, and shutting the door with a mysterious air, asked 
 her if she was sure nobody would hear them. This ap- 
 pearance of mystery was at once delightful and terrifying 
 to Mi's. Jenkins, who, with trembling agitation, bid the 
 cunning woman speak out. 
 
 ' Then,' said Rachel in a solemn whisper, ' there is to 
 my certain knowledge a pot of money hid under one of 
 the stones in your cellar.' 
 
 ' Indeed !' said Mrs. Jenkins, ' it is impossible, for now 
 I think of it, I dreamt last night I was in prison for debt.' 
 
 'Did you really ?' said Rachel; 'that is quite surpris- 
 ing. Did yon dream this before twelve o'clock or after ? ' 
 
 O it was this morning, just before I awoke. 
 
 'Then I am sure it is true, for morning dreams always 
 go by contraries,' cried Rachel. 
 
 ' How lucky it was you dreamt it so late.' 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins could hardly contain her joy, and asked 
 how the money was to be come at. 
 
 ' There is but one way,' said Rachel ; ' I must go into 
 the cellar. I know by my art under which stone it lies, 
 but I must not tell.' 
 
 Then they both went down into the cellar, but Rachel 
 refused to point at the stone unless Mrs. Jenkins would 
 put five pieces of gold into a basin and do as she directed. 
 The simple woman, instead of turning her out of doors 
 for a cheat, did as she was bid. She put the guineas 
 into a basin which she gave into Rachel's hand. Rachel 
 5* 
 
O 1 ! ULACK GILES. 
 
 strewed some white powder over the gold, muttered 
 some barbarous words, and pretended to perform the 
 black art She then told Mrs. Jenkins to put the basin 
 quietly down within the cellar; telling her that if she 
 offered to look into it, or even to speak a word, the 
 charm would be broken. She also directed her to lock 
 the cellar door, and on no pretence to open it in less than 
 forty-eight hours. ' If,' added she, ' you closely follow 
 these directions, then, by the power of my art, you will 
 find the basin conveyed to the very stone under which 
 the money lies hid, and a fine treasure it be !' Mrs. Jen- 
 kins, who firmly believed every word the woman said, 
 did exactly as she was told, and Rachel took her leave 
 with a handsome reward. 
 
 When farmer Jenkins came home he desired his wife 
 to draw him a cup of cider ; this she put oft' so long that 
 he began to be displeased. At last she begged he would 
 be so good as to drink a little beer instead. He insisted 
 on knowing the reason, and when at last he grew angry, 
 she told him all that had passed ; and owned that as the 
 pot of gold happened to be in the cider cellar, she did 
 not dare open the door, as she was sure it would break 
 the charm. 'And it would be a pity you know,' said 
 she, 'to lose a good fortune for the sake of a draught of 
 cider.' The farmer, who was not so easily imposed 
 upon, suspected a trick. He demanded the key, and 
 went and opened the cellar door ; there he found the 
 basin, and in it five round pieces of tin covered with 
 powder. Mrs. Jenkins burst out a-crying; but the 
 fanner thought of nothing but of getting a warrant to 
 apprehend the cunning woman. Indeed she well proved 
 her claim to that name, when she insisted that the cellar 
 door might be kept locked till she had time to get out of 
 the reach of all pursuit. 
 
BLACK GfJLES. 
 
 Poor Sally Evans! I am sure she rued the day that 
 ever she listened to a fortune-teller. Sally was as harm- 
 less a girl as ever lived ; but Sally was credulous, igno- 
 rant, and superstitious. She delighted in dream-books, 
 and had consulted all the cunning women in the country 
 to tell her whether the two moles on her cheek denoted 
 that she was to have two husbands, or two children. 
 If she picked up an old horse-shoe going to church, she 
 was sure that would be a lucky week. She never made 
 k a black-pudding without borrowing an old wig to hang 
 in the chimney, firmly believing there was no other 
 means to preserve them from burning. She would 
 never go to bed on Midsummer eve without sticking up 
 in her room the well-known plant called Midsummer- 
 men, as the bending of the leaves to the right or to the 
 left, would not fail to tell her whether Jacob, of whom 
 we shall speak presently, was true or false. She would 
 raiuer go five miles about than pass near a church-yard 
 at night. Every seventh year she would not eat beans 
 because they grew downward in the [>od, instead of up- 
 ward ; and, though a very neat girl, she would rather 
 have gone with her gown open, than have taken a pin 
 from an old woman, for fear of being bewitched. Poor 
 Sally had so many unlucky days in her calendar, that a 
 large portion of her time became of little use, because on 
 these days she did not dare set about any new work. 
 And she would have refused the best offer in the country 
 if made to her on a Friday, which she thought so un- 
 lucky a day that she often said what a pity it was that 
 there were any Friday in the week. Sally had twenty 
 pounds left her by her grandmother. She had long 
 been courted by Jacob, a sober lad, with whom she 
 lived fellow servant at a creditable farmer's. Honest 
 Jacob, like his namesake of old, thought it little to wait 
 
56 BLACK GILES. 
 
 seven years to get this damsel to wife, because of the 
 love he bore her, for Sally had promised to marry him 
 when he could match her twenty pounds with another 
 of his own. 
 
 Now there was one Robert, a rambling idle young 
 gardener, who, instead of sitting down steadily in one 
 place, used to roarn about the country, and do odd jobs 
 where he could get them. No one understood any 
 thing about him, except that he was a down-looking 
 fellow, who came nobody knew whence, and got his 
 bread nobody knew how, and never had a penny in his 
 pocket. Robert, who was now in the neighborhood, 
 happened to hear of Sally Evans and her twenty pounds. 
 He immediately conceived a longing desire for the latter 
 So he went to his old friend Rachel the fortune-teller, 
 told her all he had heard of Sally, and promised if she 
 could bring about a marriage between them, she should 
 go shares in the money. 
 
 Rachel undertook the business. She set off to the 
 farm-house, and fell to singing one of her most enticing 
 songs just under the dairy window. Sally was so struck 
 with the pretty tune, which was unhappily used, as is 
 too often the case, to set off some very loose words, that 
 she jumped up, dropped the skimmer into the cream and 
 ran out to buy the song. While she stooped down to 
 rummage the basket for those songs which had the most 
 tragical pictures (for Sally had a tender heart, and de- 
 lighted in whatever was mournful) Rachel looked stead- 
 fastly in her face, and told her she knew by art that she 
 was born to good fortune, but advised her not to throw 
 herself away. ' These two moles on your cheek,' added 
 she, ' show you are in some danger.' 
 
 ' Do they denote husbands or children ? ' cried Sally, 
 starling up, and letting fall the song of the Children in 
 the Wood. 
 
57 
 
 ' Husbands,' muttered Rachel. 
 
 'Alas! poor Jacob!' said Sally, mournfully, 'then he 
 will die first, won't he ?' 
 
 'Mum for that,' quoth the fortune-teller, 'I will say 
 no more.' 
 
 Sally was impatient, but the more curiosity she dis- 
 covered, the more mystery Rachel affected. At last, she 
 said, ' if you will cross my hand with a piece of silver, I 
 will tell your fortune. By the power of my art I can do 
 this three ways ; first by cards, next by the lines on your 
 hand, or by turning a cup of tea grounds; which will 
 you have ? ' 
 
 'O, all! all!' cried Sally, looking up with reverence 
 to this sun-burnt oracle of wisdom, who was possessed 
 of no less than three different ways of diving into the 
 secrets of futurity. Alas! persons of better sense than 
 Sally have been so taken in ; the more is the pity 
 
 The poor girl said she would run up stairs to her 
 little box where she kept her money tied up in a bit of 
 an old glove, and would bring down a bright queen 
 Ann's sixpence very crooked. ' I am sure,' added she, 
 ' it is a lucky one, for it cured me of a very bad ague last 
 spring, by only laying it nine nights under my pillow 
 without speaking a word. But then you must know 
 what gave the virtue to this sixpence was, that it had 
 belonged to three young men of the name of John ; 1 
 am sure I had work enough to get it. But true it is, it 
 certainly cured me. It must be the sixpence, you know, 
 for I am sure I did nothing else for my ague, except 
 indeed, taking some bitter sluff every three hours which 
 the doctor called bark. To be sure I lost my ague sooa 
 after I took it. bm I am certain it was owing to the crook- 
 ed sixpence, and not to the bark. And so, good woman, 
 you may come in, if you will, for there is not a soul in 
 
58 BLACK GILES, 
 
 the bouse but me.' This was tbe very thing Rachel 
 Wanted to know, and very glad she was to learn it. 
 
 While Sally was above stairs untying her glove, Ra- 
 chel slipped in to the parlor, took a small silver cup from 
 the beaufet, and clapped it into her pocket. Sally raw 
 down, lamenting that she had lost her sixpence, which 
 she verily believed was owing ta her liaving put it into- 
 a left glove, instead of a right one. Rachel comforted 5 
 her by saying, that if she gsve her two plain ones instead,, 
 the charm would work just as well. Simple Sally 
 thought herself happy to be let off so easily, never cal- 
 culating that a smooth shiHing was worth two crooked 
 sixpences. But this skill was a part of 'be black art ii> 
 which Rachel excelled. She took tire money and begat? 
 So examine the lines of Sally's left band. She bit her 
 withered lip, shook her head, aad bade her poor dupe 
 beware of a young man who had black hair. 
 
 ' No, indeed,' cried Sally, all hi a fright, ' you mean 
 black eyes, fbr oar Jacob has got brown hair, *t is his 
 eyes that are black.' 
 
 'That is the very thing I was going to say,' muttered* 
 Rachel, 'I meant eyes,. though I said hair, for I know 
 his hair is as brown as a chestnut, and his- eyes as black 
 as a sloe/ 
 
 'So they are, snre enough/ cried Sally, 'how in the 
 world could you know that?* forgetting that she herself 
 had just told her so. And it is thus that these hags pick 
 out of the credulous all which they afterwards pretend 
 to reveal to them. 
 
 * O, I know a pretty deal more than that,' said RacheF, 
 'but you must beware of this man,' 
 
 'Why so, 7 cried Sally, with great quickness: 'Be- 
 cause,' answered Rachel, ' you are fated to marry a mart 
 worth a hundred of him, who has bluo eyes, light hair, 
 and a stoop in the shoulders/ 
 
SLACK GILES. 59 
 
 ' No, indeed, but I can 't,' said Sally ; ' 1 have promised 
 Jacob, and Jacob 1 will marry.' 
 
 ' You cannot, child,' returned Ilachel in a solemn tone ; 
 'it is out of your power, you are fated to marry the gray 
 eyes and light hair.' 
 
 ' Nay, indeed,' said Sally, sighing deeply, ' if I am fated 
 I must ; I know there 's no resisting one 's fate.' 
 
 This is a common cant with poor deluded girls, who 
 are not aware that they themselves make tlreir fate by 
 their folly, and then complain there is no resisting it. 
 
 'What can I do ?' said Sally. 
 
 ' 1 will tell you that, too,' said Rachel. ' You must 
 take a walk next Sunday afternoon to the church-yard, 
 and the first man you meet in a blue coat, with a large 
 posy of pinks and southern-wood in his bosom, sitting 
 on the church-yard Avail, about seven o'clock, he will 
 be the man.' 
 
 ' Provided,' said Sally, much disturbed, ' that he has 
 gray eyes and stoops.' 
 
 ' O, to be sure,' said Rachel, ' otherwise it is not the 
 right man.' 
 
 ' But if I should mistake,' said Sally, ' for two men 
 may happen to have a coat and eyes of the same color ? ' 
 
 'To prevent that,' replied Rachel, 'if it is the right 
 man, the two first letters of his name will be R. P. This 
 man has got money beyond sea.' 
 
 'O, I do not value his money,' said Sally, with tears 
 in her eyes, ' for I love Jacob better than house or land ; 
 hut if I am fated to marry another, I can't help it ; you 
 know there is no struggling against my fate.' 
 
 Poor Sally thought of nothing, and dreamt of nothing 
 all the week but the blue coat and the gray eyes. She 
 made a hundred blunders at her work. She put her 
 little knife out of her pocket for fear it should cut love 
 
60 BLACK GILES. 
 
 and would not stay in the kitchen if there was not an 
 even number of people, lest it should break the charm. 
 She grew cold and mysterious in her behavior to faith- 
 ful Jacob, whom she truly loved. But the more she 
 thought of the fortune-teller, the more she was convinced 
 that brown hair and black eyes were not what she was 
 fated to marry, and therefore, though she trembled to 
 think it, Jacob could not be the man. 
 
 On Sunday she was too uneasy to go to church; for 
 poor Sally had never been taught that her being uneasy 
 was only a fresh reason why she ought to go thither. 
 She spent the whole afternoon in her little garret, dress- 
 ing in all her best. First she put on her red riband, 
 which she had bought at the fair : then she recollected 
 that red was an unlucky color, and changed it for a blue 
 riband, tied in a true lover's knot ; but suddenly calling 
 to mind that poor Jacob had bought this knot for her of 
 a pedlar at the door, and that she had promised to wear 
 it for his sake, her heart smote her, and she laid it by, 
 sighing to think she was not fated to marry the man 
 who had given it to her. When she had looked at her- 
 self twenty times in the glass (for one vain action al- 
 ways brings on another) she set off, trembling and 
 shaking every step she went. She walked eagerly 
 towards the church-yard, not daring to look to the right 
 or left, for fear she should spy Jacob, who would have 
 offered to walk with her, and so have spoilt all. As 
 soon as she came within sight of the wall, she spied a 
 man sitting upon it : Her heart beat violently. She 
 looked again ; but alas! the stranger not only had on a 
 black coat, but neither hair nor eyes answered the 
 description. She now happened to cast her eyes on 
 the church-clock, and found she was two hours before 
 her time. This was some comfort. S^e walked away 
 
BLACK GILES. Ol 
 
 and got rid of the two hours as well as she could, paying 
 great attention not to walk over any straws which lay 
 across, and carefully looking to see if there were never 
 an old horse-shoe in the way, that infallible symptom 
 of good fortune. While the clock was striking seven, 
 she returned to the church-yard, and O ! the wonderful 
 power of fortune-tellers! there she saw him! there sat 
 the very man ! his hair as light as flax, his eyes as blue 
 as butter-milk, and his shoulders as round as a tub. 
 Every tittle agreed to the very nosegay in his waistcoat 
 button-hole. At first, indeed, she thought it had been 
 sweetbrier, and glad to catch at a straw, whispered to 
 herself, it is not he, and I shall marry Jacob still; but on 
 looking again, she saw it was southern-wood plain 
 enough, and that of course all was over. The man 
 accosted her with some very nonsensical, but too accep- 
 table, compliments. She was naturally a modest girl, 
 and but for Rachel's wicked arts, would not have had 
 courage to talk with a strange man ; but how could she 
 resist her fate you know? After a little' discourse, she 
 asked him, with a trembling heart, what might be his 
 name? Robert Price, at your service, was the answer. 
 'Robert Price! that is R. P. as sure as I arn alive, and 
 the fortune-teller was a witch ! It is all out! it is all out! 
 O the wonderful art of fortune-tollers !' 
 
 The little sleep she had that night, was disturbed with 
 dreams of graves, and ghosts, and funerals, but as they 
 were morning dreams, she knew those always went by 
 contraries, and that a funeral denoted a wedding. Still 
 a sigh would now and then heave, to think that in that 
 wedding Jacob would have no part. Such of my read- 
 ers as know the power which superstition has over the 
 weak and credulous mind, scarcely need be told, that 
 poor Sally's unhappiness was soon completed. She 
 G 
 
62 BLACK GILES. 
 
 forgot all her vows to Jacob ; she at once forsook an 
 honest man whom she loved, and consented to marry a 
 stranger, of whom she knew nothing, from a ridiculous 
 notion that she was compelled to do so by a decree 
 which she had it not in her power to resist She mar- 
 ried this Richard Price, the strange gardener, whom she 
 soon found to be very worthless, and very much in debt 
 He had no such thing as ' money beyond sea,' as the for- 
 tune-teller had told her; but alas! he had another wife 
 there. He got immediate possession of Sally's twenty 
 pounds. Rachel put in for her share, but he refused 
 to give her a farthing, and bid her get away or he would 
 have her taken up on the vagrant act. He soon ran 
 away from Sally, leaving her to bewail her own weak- 
 ness ; for it was that indeed, and not any irresistible fate, 
 which had been the cause of her ruin. To complete her 
 misery, she herself was suspected of having stolen the 
 silver cup which Rachel had pocketed. Her master, 
 however, would not prosecute her, as she was falling 
 into a deep decline, and she died in a few months of a 
 broken heart, a sad warning to all credulous girls. 
 
 Rachel, whenever she got near home, used to drop 
 her trade of fortune-telling, and only dealt in the wares 
 of her basket Mr. Wilson, the clergyman, found her 
 one day dealing out some very wicked ballads to some 
 children. He went up with a view to give her a repri- 
 mand ; but had no sooner begun his exhortation than 
 up came a constable, followed by several people. 
 
 ' There she is, that is the old witch who tricked my 
 wife out of the five guineas,' said one of them, ' Do your 
 office constable, seize that old hag. She may tell for- 
 tunes and find pots of gold in Taunton jail, for there she 
 will have nothing else to do ! ' 
 
 This was that very farmer Jenkins, whose wife had 
 
BLACTK GILES. 63 
 
 fceen cheated by Rachel of the five guineas. He had 
 taken pains to trace her to her own parish : he did not 
 o much value the loss of the money, as he thought k 
 was a duty he owed the public to clear the country of 
 such vermia. Mr. Wilson immediately committed her. 
 She took her trial at the next court, when she was sen- 
 tenced t a year's imprisonment. In the mean time, the 
 pawnbroker to whom she had sold the silver cup, which 
 she had stolen from poor Sally's master, impeached her, 
 and as the rebbery was ftilly proved upon Rachel, she 
 was sentenced for this crime te Botany Bay; and a 
 ihappy day it was for the eoiiRty, when such a nuisance 
 was sect eat of it. She was transported much about 
 the same rime that her husband Giles lost hie life ia 
 stealing the net from the garden wall, as related already. 
 I have thought it my duty to print this little history, 
 as a kind f warning to all young men and maidens 
 not to have any thing to say to cheats, impostors, cunning- 
 tvomen.fortune4etters, cervjitrors, and interpreters of dreams. 
 Listen to nee, your true friend, when I assure you that 
 Cfod never revesls to weak ap.d wicked women those 
 secret designs of his providence, which no human wis- 
 dom is able to foresee. To consult these false oracles is 
 not only foolish, but sinful. It is foolish, because they 
 are themselves as -ignorant as those whom they pretend 
 to teach : and it is sinful, because it is prying into that 
 futurity which God, in mercy as well as wisdom, hides 
 from men. God indeed orders all things; but when 
 you have a mind to do n foolish thing, do not fancy you 
 are fated to do it. This is tempting Providence, and not 
 trusting him. It is indeed charging God with fotty. 
 Prudence is his gift, and you obey him better when 
 you make use of prudence, under the direction of pray- 
 er, than when you madly run into ruin, and think you 
 
64 
 
 BLACK GILES. 
 
 are only submitting to your fate. Never fancy that you 
 are compelled to undo yourself, or to rush upon your 
 own destruction, in compliance with any supposed fatal- 
 ity. Never believe that God conceals his will from a 
 sober Christian who obeys his laws, and reveals it to a 
 vagabond gypsey who runs up and down breaking the 
 laws both of God and man. King Saul never consulted 
 the witch till he left of serving God. The Bible will 
 direct us what to do better than any conjuror, and there 
 are no days unlucky but those which we make so by 
 our own vanity, sin and folly. 
 

 OH! OH! OH! 
 
 Translated from the French of Guisot, for the Family 81017 Book. 
 
 OH ! oh ! oh ! cried little Lewis, " my tooth, my 
 tooth ! " My tooth aches ; I cannot eat with it ;" so he 
 laid down his breakfast upon the table. 
 
 " It will ache until you have it out," said his mother. 
 
 " Oh ! I cannot have it out ; it would hurt me very 
 much." 
 
 " Then you must not complain if it aches." 
 
 " But I cannot eat with it." 
 
 " Very well, then, let me pull it out. It is only a 
 milk tooth ; it will come out very easy." 
 
 " Oh ! no, no ; it has very long roots, I know." 
 
 " Very well, then ; if you choose to keep it in, you 
 must submit to the trouble it occasions you." 
 
 Lewis did not answer, and his mother said no more. 
 She wished to form and cultivate his own reason and 
 the power of self-command, and therefore her positive 
 orders and direct prohibitions were as few as possible. 
 A command will not cure a fault, and a prohibition 
 can control only the external conduct. She there- 
 fore practised teaching her children to act for them- 
 selves. She considered this one of the cases where 
 her child ought to be left to act for himself, and upon 
 his own responsibility. 
 
 Lewis tried once more to eat his breakfast, but his 
 tooth troubled him at every attempt ; so he laid down 
 his bread and his apple, and went out to play with lit- 
 6* 
 
66 OH ! OH ! OH ! 
 
 tie Pompey. Pompey was a charming little dog, and 
 of a very gentle disposition, and he was accustomed 
 to bear all sorts of usage without complaint. Lewis 
 took him by his paws. " Stand up, Pompey; make 
 a bow ; give me your paw ; no, not that paw, the 
 other one." Pompey obeyed with the best grace in the 
 Avorld, though the exercise was not the most agreeable 
 to him. 
 
 Lewis, in order to vary the amusement, concluded 
 to pull up Pompey by his tail, to make him rise on his 
 fore feet, so as to make him turn summerset. At his 
 first attempt, Pompey only growled a little ; at the se- 
 cond, he growled a little louder ; at the third, Lewis 
 pulled him so hard by the tail, that Pompey got out of 
 patience, and turned round and bit him slightly on his 
 little finger. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh ! he cried out, " that ugly Pompey has 
 bitten me. Ma ! ma ! Pompey has bitten me. Oh ! 
 how it aches, how it aches !" 
 
 " Let me see ; where ? Oh ! that is nothing ; you 
 can hardly see the mark of the tooth. What did you 
 do to him?" 
 
 " I only pulled him by his tail to make him turn 
 summerset." 
 
 " Well, you certainly must have hurt him a great 
 deal more, pulling him by the tail, than he has hurt 
 you by that little bite. He bore it more patiently than 
 you do." 
 
 " I don't mean to play with him any more." 
 
 " Well, you can do just as you please, my son ; I 
 don't think he will complain." 
 
 Lewis then went away, and as he passed by Pom- 
 pey, the dog began to growl again. 
 
 "Be still, be still," said the boy; "don't you bite me 
 
OH ! OH ! OH ! 67 
 
 again !" and he held his little finger in his other hand 
 tight, as if he was afraid it would be torn away from 
 him. He went to try to find his sister Henrietta, to 
 play with her. But he found that she had just prick- 
 ed her finger with a needle, and she was not in very 
 good humor for his proposals. 
 
 " Go away and let me alone," said she ; " I have 
 pricked myself ;" and she stood watching the blood as 
 it flowed down through the glass of water which she 
 was holding her finger into, forming a curious looking 
 red cloud. 
 
 " What a droll prick," said Lewis ; " your blood does 
 not sink : how curiously it looks." 
 
 " A droll prick, you call it, do you ? I'll let you know 
 how droll it is ;" and she pricked him with the needle 
 which she still held in her hand. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh ! ma, Henrietta has pricked me ; give 
 me a glass of water ; oh !" 
 
 The nursery maid, who heard him, brought some 
 water, without looking at him, pressing her right hand 
 upon her cheek. 
 
 "Look here," said he, "see how she has pricked 
 me." 
 
 " What of that ?" replied the maid ; " it is nothing 
 at all ; what should you say if you had the tooth-ache 
 as I have ?" 
 
 " Have you got the tooth-ache ?" 
 
 " Yes, terribly ; I have not slept any for three nights, 
 and I shall have to go to-morrow and have it taken 
 out, for I cannot let my work go any longer ;" and she 
 went and took her sewing. After having squeezed his 
 finger till he could not get out another drop of blood, 
 Lewis did not know what to do ; he could not think of 
 any way to amuse himself. Pompey growled at him, 
 
68 OH ! OH ! OH ! 
 
 Henrietta was out of humor, the maid had the tooth- 
 ache and was busy ; all were occupied with their own 
 troubles. Lewis thought the house was in rather a 
 sad condition, so he went off to find his mother. He 
 thought that, at least, she would not growl at him. At 
 that instant, he heard on the stairs the voice of one 
 of his playmates, little Charles. He ran towards the 
 door to open it for him. Charles had come with his 
 teacher, to propose to him to go with five or six other 
 boys of their age, to take a walk by the canal to see 
 the skating. This was just the thing. Lewis obtain- 
 ed his mother's permission, took his great coat, his fur 
 gloves, and off they went. It was in the middle of 
 winter, but the weather was dry, and the sun shone 
 splendidly. The little boys ran and leaped along the 
 road. Lewis did so at first, but after a while his nose 
 began to be cold, and he had to keep one of his hands 
 over it constantly. Presently, his fingers began to 
 grow numb. He put his other hand into his pocket, 
 complaining bitterly that he was obliged to keep one 
 of them in the air. Next, his feet began to be 
 cold. It was in vain that they told him if he ran it 
 would warm them. " How in the world do you think 
 I can run ?" said he ; " my feet are absolutely frozen." 
 He dragged himself along sorrowfully by the side of 
 his teacher, slipping every step, liberating his nose 
 now and then to breathe into his fingers, and then 
 grasping it again in great haste. At length they 
 reached the banks of the canal. It was covered with 
 skaters, who, with a free and graceful air, their heads 
 high, their arms sometimes crossed and sometimes 
 extended, sometimes folded and sometimes freely 
 swinging, moved swiftly and gracefully over the smooth 
 surface upon which the timid walkers could scarcely 
 
OH ! OH ! OH ! 69 
 
 oiand. The boys, with the permission of their teach- 
 er, went down upon the ice to have some slides. Lew- 
 is allowed himself to be persuaded to go with them ; 
 and then you might have seen them sliding re- 
 peatedly over the same place, so as to make a long 
 path, polished like a mirror; upon which, after a short 
 run, they could slide nobly. Lewis had not yet dared 
 to do this. 
 
 " Come, Lewis, come," said one of his companions, 
 " take a slide ; you will certainly freeze if you do not 
 move about more." 
 
 Lewis thought he would try. He went back a few 
 steps, and then ran till he came to the edge of the ice, 
 and gave a slide, still keeping one hand upon his nose, 
 and the other in his pocket. However, he went on, 
 and kept himself upright ; but a minute after, a roguish 
 little fellow, more skilful than he, slid after him, and 
 reached him before he got half through his slide. They 
 came in violent contact, and Lewis was knocked down 
 upon the ice. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh !" cried Lewis. " Oh ! oh ! oh ! who 
 is that who knocked me down ? I can't get up, oh ! 
 help me get up, oh! oh !" and he lay there still, not 
 trying to get up, because he would not use his hands 
 to raise himself from the ice. The rest of the boys 
 laughed at his clumsiness ; then the teacher came to 
 him, helped him up, tried to comfort him by telling 
 him that such falls would not hurt him any, that the 
 paift would soon be over. But Lewis, crying and 
 cnns, went off of the canal and leaned against a tree 
 up<Mi the bank, turning his back to the skaters. Pre- 
 sently a cripple passed by him, who seemed greatly 
 amused by the skaters, and said, " What a pity it is that 
 mw leg is of wood ;" for he had, in fact, a wooden leg 
 
70 OH ! OH ! OH ! 
 
 " What is the matter with you, my little friend ?" he 
 said, seeing Lewis, who he observed was standing by 
 himself, and looking very sorrowful. " Why are not 
 you down there with the rest of the boys ?" 
 
 " Do you think I know how to skate ?" replied Lewis. 
 
 " Do you not know how to skate ? Go and learn 
 then. I wish I was of your age. At any rate, you 
 might have a good time sliding." 
 
 " So I could, but they keep pushing me down." 
 
 " Well, if they push you, you must push them ; and 
 if you tumble down, you must jump up again." 
 
 " Yes, and freeze my hands on the ice." 
 
 " Oh ! you are afraid of freezing your hands, are 
 you ? Poor child ! what would you have done if you 
 had been in my place ; if you had tumbled, like me, 
 into a great ditch, in the midst of a battle, and when 
 it was terribly cold." 
 
 " In a ditch ? somebody would have come to pull 
 me out." 
 
 " You think so, do you ? Before any body had come 
 to take you out, you would have been frozen to death. 
 If my leg had not been broken, I should have got out 
 myself very soon." 
 
 " You had your leg broken ! How then did you get 
 out at all?" 
 
 " Oh ! I dragged myself up by my hands ; and I was 
 out in less than five minutes." 
 
 " And what did they do to your leg afterwards ?" 
 
 " With my leg ? They cut it off, to be sure. But 
 it is all over now; I shall never suffer any with my 
 wooden leg. But come, my little fellow. Come, we 
 will go down together on the ice. You shall have 
 some more slides, and I won't let any bully push 
 you." 
 
OH! OH! OH! 71 
 
 Lewis, who had been interested and cheered by the 
 conversation, followed the man. The teacher, who 
 had heard the whole, did not interfere. Lewis walked 
 at first upon the ice with great timidity. The good 
 soldier, for a little while, gave him his hand to hold 
 him up. 
 
 "Come," said he, at last; "go along alone a little. 
 You have got two legs, and I have only one. I will 
 stand and look at you. Forward ! march." Lewis 
 began to slide. 
 
 " Take your hands out of your pocket," called out 
 the soldier, " and let go your nose. Are you afraid it 
 will fall off? Use your hands to balance yourself with. 
 Heads up ! hands down ! There ! Bravo ! That is 
 right. Don't be afraid. Unbutton your great coat; 
 what is in your way ?" 
 
 Lewis unbuttoned his great coat, stretched out his 
 arms, and had a grand slide. In a quarter of an hour, 
 he had learned to slide as well as any of the boys on 
 the canal. 
 
 " Now, hear me," said the old soldier to him, in a 
 low voice. "We will go back to where the other 
 boys arc. They have not seen you practising here, 
 and you can go and take a good slide right in amongst 
 them. Don't be afraid." 
 
 Lewis did so. When the boys saw him, they sud- 
 denly exclaimed, " Holloa ! here comes Lewis again. 
 Who has taught you to slide ?" 
 
 " I did," said the man with a wooden leg, who was 
 still standing upon the bank. " You will find he will 
 not be afraid any more." 
 
 The children, very much surprised, continued their 
 play, and Lewis stood his ground among them very 
 well. When the time for going home arrived, he went 
 
72 OH! OH! OH! 
 
 to bid his friend, the soldier, good-bye ; who said to 
 him, in parting, " Farewell, my little fellow. If I am 
 here the next time you come, I will teach you to 
 skate." 
 
 They then returned home. Lewis did not complain 
 any more of the cold, did not put his hands in his 
 pocket. He let his nose alone, ran off like the rest of 
 the boys, and reached home, not only without any 
 grumbling, but without any suffering. As he ran to- 
 wards his mother to tell her his story, he found her 
 talking with a poor old woman, who was weeping, and 
 appeared to be asking aid. "Ah ! madam," said she, 
 "you do not know what has happened to my James. 
 He has been my only support, and, although he is 
 only fourteen years old, he worked so well for his 
 master, who is a joiner, that every day he brought 
 me twenty cents. That was all we had to live upon, 
 for, as to myself, I can do but very little ; and now, 
 about fifteen days ago, my poor James put his wrist 
 out of joint, and he came home to me very wretched. 
 By good fortune, I had laid up, in the course of six 
 months, a few dollars, to buy him some clothes. I 
 gave them to him and sent him immediately to a sur- 
 geon, who I knew was very skilful, to have his hand 
 cured. He went out, and I supposed that he went to 
 the surgeon ; but no ; he thought that would cost too 
 much. A man in our neighborhood proposed to set 
 his wrist for him for a small sum. He brought me 
 back a large part of the money I gave him, and told 
 me they did not charge him any more ; but certainly 
 his wrist was very badly set, for, since that time, it 
 has continued swollen and inflamed. In looking at it, 
 I was satisfied that the bones were not in their place. 
 On questioning him particularly, I found out the truth. 
 
OH ! OH ! OH ! 73 
 
 We went then to the surgeon, who said that his wrist 
 could be cured, but that it would require a long treat- 
 ment, and be attended with considerable expense ; and 
 we have not the means of bearing it, as for fifteen 
 days my poor boy has not been able to work, and he 
 \vill not be able to do any thing for a good while to 
 come. Can you, madam, help us?" 
 
 Lewis heard her with much attention . His mother, 
 herself much affected, perceived that what had been 
 said had wrought upon her son's susceptibilities. She 
 did not know that he had already begun to be ashamed 
 of his own want of fortitude. 
 
 " Good woman," said she, " don't be troubled ; go 
 and bring him here ; I will take him myself to the 
 surgeon, who will examine his arm anew, and I will 
 defray the expense myself. Will you go ? And, Lew- 
 is, should you like to go ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, mother ; I should like very much to see 
 James." Henrietta, who was at work in a corner of 
 the parlor, asked quickly, " May I go too, mother ?" 
 
 " Yes ; you may go, my child, but be ready quick ; 
 we want James to get well as soon as possible." 
 They went immediately, and not one of them com- 
 plained of the cold on the way. They at length found 
 James, who was at work, making a handle for some 
 tool, \vith his well hand. His mother told him, with 
 tears of joy, of the success of her visit. James re- 
 turned with them to Lewis' mother. " Your wrist is 
 very bad, James," said she, " is it not ?" 
 
 "Oh no, madam, not very bad; if I could only 
 work." 
 
 "Well, be patient; you shall be cured as soon as 
 possible. You are a brave boy." 
 
 They went together to the surgeon's, who, as soon 
 7 
 
74 OH ! OH 1 OH 1 
 
 as he knew the story of James, took a lively interes* 
 in the courageous boy, and his attention to him soon 
 produced a change ; and in a few days, the swelling 
 in James' Avrist began to go down. They were 
 obliged to keep him from working, though they gave 
 him encouragement that in a short time he would be 
 able to work at the plane again. In the mean time, 
 his wants were fully provided for ; and Lewis, on re- 
 turning home, said to his mother, 
 
 " Mother, won't you pull out my tooth with a 
 thread ?" 
 
 Lewis bore it patiently ; and he learned by the ex- 
 ample of the old soldier, and that of James, not to allow 
 himself, whenever he felt a little cold, or got a little 
 prick, to scream out," Oh ! oh ! oh !" 
 
HISTORY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REDBREAST FAMILY. 
 
 IN a hole which time had made in a wall, covered 
 with ivy, a pair of redbreasts built their nest. It 
 was sheltered from the rain, screened from the wind, 
 and in an orchard belonging to a gentleman, who had 
 ordered his servants not to disturb any birds that chose 
 to make his ground an asylum. 
 
 In this retreat, the hen redbreast laid four eggs, and 
 then took her seat upon them, till she had hatched her 
 infant brood. 
 
 Her tender mate every morning brought her food, 
 and then cheered her with a song. 
 
 At length the day arrived when she heard the chirp- 
 ing of her little ones ; pleasing to her ears as the prat- 
 tle of a beloved child to its fond parent : with great 
 tenderness she spread her wings to cover them, threw 
 out the egg-shells in which they before lay confined, 
 then pressed them to her bosom, and called to her 
 mate, who viewed them with rapture, and seated him- 
 self by her side that he might share her pleasure. 
 "We may promise ourselves much delight in rearing 
 our little family," said he, " but it will cost us a great 
 deal of trouble to supply all our nestlings with food." 
 The hen bird declared her willingness to leave the nest 
 
76 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 in search of worms, observing it would not be neces- 
 sary for her to be long absent, as in her last flight she 
 had discovered a place where food was scattered on 
 purpose for such birds as would take the pains of seek- 
 ing it, and a chaffinch had said, there was no danger 
 in picking it up. To hear this her mate was well 
 pleased, because an increase of their family required 
 more food than heretofore for the supply of their ne- 
 cessaries. 
 
 The little ones soon began to feel the sensations of 
 hunger, and opened their mouths for food, on which 
 their kind father flew forth to find it, and by turns 
 supplied the nestlings and his beloved mate. This 
 was a hard day's work, and when the evening came, 
 he turned his head under his wing and soon fell asleep ; 
 his mate followed his example ; as for the little ones, 
 they had slumbered for some time. 
 
 The next morning they were awakened at the dawn 
 of day by the song of a sky-lark, who had a nest near 
 the orchard ; and, as they young redbreasts wanted 
 food, their father prepared himself to renew his toil, 
 and had it not been so very early, his mate would have 
 gone with him, to have showed him the place where 
 food was purposely laid for them ; he therefore pro- 
 vided breakfast for his family, as the hen redbreast 
 was fearful of leaving the nestlings before the air was 
 warmed by the sun, lest they should be chilled : then 
 perching on a bough just by, he entertained his family 
 with his melodious notes ; till his mate springing from 
 the nest, and calling to him, he followed her to a 
 court-yard in the front of a neat mansion. 
 
 No sooner did they appear before the parlor window 
 than it was hastily thrown up by Harriet Benson, a 
 little girJ about eleven years old, the daughter of a 
 
HEDBREASX FAMILY. 77 
 
 gentleman and lady to whom the house belonged : 
 with great delight she called her brother Frederic, 
 about six years old, to see two robin-red-breasts ; he 
 soon came to the window and took a peep at the fea- 
 thered strangers, then ran to request that his mamma 
 would give him a large piece of bread to feed all the 
 sparrows and chaffinches that came every day, and 
 two robin-red-breasts besides. His mother gave him 
 a piece from a stale roll which lay on the table, at the 
 same time observing, that if the birds continued to in- 
 crease as they had lately done, she must find some 
 other sort of food for them, as it is not right to cut 
 pieces from a loaf on purpose for birds, as there are 
 many children that want bread, to whom we should 
 give the preference ; and it would be a pity to deprive 
 a little boy or girl of a breakfast to give it to birds. 
 Frederic said rather than that should happen, he would 
 give either of them his OAvn breakfast, and concluded 
 to request John the footman, and Betty the cook, to 
 save all the crumbs they could, that he might give 
 them to the birds. Their mother approved of the 
 birds being fed with crumbs, if the children could but 
 prevail on the servants to indulge them with all the 
 crumbs they could save. 
 
 Harriet being quite impatient for fear the birds 
 should fly away, requested that her brother would make 
 haste to feed them, Avhich he gladly ran to do. The 
 birds seemed pleased at the. sight of Harriet and Fre- 
 deric ; they hopped round the window, they chirped, 
 they twittered, and employed all their little arts to 
 please. Frederic was so delighted that he requested to 
 feed them all himself ; but as the redbreasts, being 
 strangers, kept a greater distance than the other birds, 
 he could not throw the bread far enough ; but his sis- 
 7* 
 
78 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 ter threw some pieces to the very spot where the affec- 
 tionate pair stood, who readily picked up the portion 
 assigned them ; while the other birds, having satisfied 
 their hunger, successively withdrew, the redbreasts 
 only were left behind. 
 
 Frederic exclaimed with rapture that the redbreasts 
 were feeding ! and Harriet meditated a design of 
 taming them by kindness, resolving, if she could not 
 get crumbs sufficient, to spend some of her money in 
 seeds for them. " Oh," said Frederic, "I would give 
 all the money in the world to buy grain for my dear 
 birds." But as his mamma reminded him there were 
 poor people as well as poor birds, he concluded only to 
 buy a little grain. The redbreasts had now finished 
 their meal ; they hastily flew to their humble habita- 
 tion, and finding all their young ones well, they flew 1 to 
 an adjoining garden to find worms for their family. 
 
 Frederic now expressed great concern that the ro- 
 bins were gone, but his sister told him, that as his new 
 favorites had met with so good a breakfast they might 
 return on the morrow. Their mother, who stood by, 
 and with pleasure had seen the humanity of her chil- 
 dren, desired them to shut the window, and thus ad- 
 dressed them : 
 
 " I am delighted, my dear children, with your beha- 
 vior to the poor birds, and wish to encourage it ; but it 
 requires regulations ; let me desire you not to suffer it 
 to gain upon you as to make you unhappy, or forgetful 
 of poor people ; always keep in mind the distresses 
 which they endure, and on no account waste any food, 
 by giving it to inferior animals, whilst men, women, 
 and children are in want of it." 
 
 Harriet promised to follow her mamma's instruc- 
 tions ; but Frederic was engaged by watching and try- 
 
2EBBEEAST FAMILY. 79 
 
 Jilg to catch a butterfly which fluttered in the window ; 
 but his mamma did not permit him to catch it, saying 
 he could not well take it without hurting it, nor keep 
 it without distressing it. Frederic said he did not 
 want to keep it, but to carry it out of doors. " Well/' 
 replied she, " then open the window;" which being done, 
 the butterfly escaped and soon seated itself on a rose-tree. 
 
 When breakfast was over, they desired to walk in 
 the garden, before they applied to their lessons ; where 
 Frederic amused himself with watching the butterfly, 
 as it flew from flower to flower, which gave him more 
 pleasure than he could have received from catching 
 and confining the little tender creature. 
 
 Now let us see what became of the redbreasts. 
 
 The hen bird, as was said before, flew to her nest, 
 and called out, " Are you all safe, my little ones ?" 
 " All safe," replied Pecksy, " but hungry and cold," 
 " Well," replied she, " my breast and wings shall 
 warm you, and your father is gone for food." 
 
 In a very short time her mate returned with a worm 
 in his mouth, which was given to Robin ; and he was 
 going for another for Dicky, but his mate reminded 
 him of the agreement, to divide the care of providing 
 for the family betwixt them ; " therefore," said she, 
 " the next journey shall be mine ;" and, after directing 
 her where to find plenty of food without seeking it, he 
 entered the nest. " Come, my dears," said he, " let 
 us see what sort of a nurse I can make ; but an awk- 
 ward one I fear, indeed, young ones," said he ; " you 
 have a kind and tender mother, and I hope you will 
 make a dutiful return." They all promised they 
 would ; then chanting a pleasant tune, the nestlings 
 were so well pleased they did not think their mother's 
 absence long. Though she did not return so soon aa 
 
80 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 she wished, because a boy was picking up worms to 
 fish with, and she was afraid of him ; as soon as she 
 came near the nest, up flew her mate to take his turn, 
 and was out of sight in an instant. 
 
 The mother inquired how they all did? "Very 
 well," replied they all at once ; " and we have been all 
 very cheerful," said Robin, " for my father sung us a 
 song ;" and Dicky said he should like to learn it ; "And 
 so should I," said Robin; "Well," said their mother, 
 " as you grow older and attend to your father's instruc- 
 tions there is little doubt but you may both learn to 
 chant the same notes." The male bird now returned 
 with food, and thus this little family passed the day 
 till evening reminded them of repose. 
 
 In this manner they passed several days. The nest- 
 lings daily grew in strength and knoAvledge. 
 
 Harriet and Frederic continued to feed them as usu- 
 al ; as the cook and footman saved all the crumbs they 
 could for that purpose. 
 
 One morning it happened, that both the redbreasts 
 were absent longer than usual ; for Harriet and Frede- 
 ric had overslept themselves, having gone to bed very 
 tired over night. The hen bird flew to the nest as 
 soon as she had finished her meal, while her mate staid 
 a little longer to sing to his benefactors. As soon as 
 the hen was seated, she observed her nestlings were not 
 so cheerful as usual. " What is the matter ?" said she ; 
 " how have you agreed during my absence ?" No re- 
 ply was made ; all was silent ; for they had been quar- 
 relling. Robin, knowing he had done wrong, began 
 to justify himself; " I am sure," said he, " I only gave 
 Dicky a little peek, because he crowded me so." " In- 
 deed," said Dicky, " he gave me a hard peck, and I 
 was afraid of my eyes." 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 
 
 dl 
 
 *' I do not love to tell tales," said Flapsy, " but what 
 Dicky says is very true ; so Robin plucked two or three 
 feathers out of me, because I desired him not to use 
 us ill." "And," said Pecksy, "he set his foot very 
 hard upon me for reminding him of my mother's ad- 
 vice." 
 
 " This is a sad story indeed," said the mother ; " I 
 am very sorry to find that Robin discovers so turbu- 
 lent a disposition ; if he goes on in this manner, we 
 shall have but little peace in the nest." She then de- 
 sired him to get from under her wing and sit on the 
 outside, whilst she cherished those that were good. 
 Dicky now entreated that Robin might be pardoned ; but 
 his mother observed, that the offence must be repented 
 of before he is pardoned. Now her mate returned 
 with a fine worm, and looked for Robin, who lay skulk- 
 ing by himself. " Give it to Dicky," said the mother, 
 " for Robin must be served last this morning ; nay, I 
 do not know thai he shall have any victuals all day." 
 *' What can be the matter ?" said the father, when he 
 had put the worm into Dicky's mouth ; " have the little 
 ones been naughty ? But I cannot stay to hear now, 
 for I left a fine worm, which may be gone if I do not 
 make haete back." 
 
 Dicky aga'n entreated to have Robin taken into the 
 nest; and Pecksy desired Robin not to fret, as she 
 would give him her breakfast if her mother consented 
 to it ; but Robin said, "if he could not be served first, 
 he would have none," and called them all ill-natured 
 things for causing him to be put out of the nest. The 
 mother heard these sullen speeches of Robin, and de- 
 sired Pecksy not to hold any more conversation with 
 eo naughty a bird. The father then arrived, and Peck- 
 sy was fed. " Wliat has Robin done ?" said he. 
 
82 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 " Quarrelled with his brothers and sisters," replied she. 
 " I arn sorry to hear that," said the father; "I did not 
 think he had been so foolish or so unkind." "But 
 that is not all," said the mother, " he presumes on be- 
 ing the eldest, and claims half the nest to himself, and 
 now is sullen because he was not fed first." The fa- 
 ther requested his mate would leave him to settle with 
 Robin, and go to take a little air, as she seemed fa- 
 tigued : she took the advice given, and flew to a tree 
 just by, waiting the event of her mate's interposi- 
 tion. 
 
 The mother departed, and the father thus addressed 
 his nestlings : " And so you have been quarrelling to- 
 gether ; and pray what good has that done you ? But I 
 must not blame you all, as I fear Robin is most to blame, 
 for wanting to be master ; a pretty master indeed ; he 
 does not know how to govern his own temper. I shall 
 not say much to him now, as he is in a sullen mood, 
 and may only turn a deaf ear to my advice ; but he may 
 depend upon it, I will not suffer him to use any of the 
 family ill, more particularly his good mother ; and if 
 he continues obstinate I must turn him quite out of the 
 nest before he can fly. Robin was alarmed at the 
 threats, and began to be very hungry and cold, and pro- 
 mised to behave better in future, and his little brothers 
 and sisters begged that he might be forgiven and re- 
 stored -to the nest. By this time the mother had re- 
 turned, and was well pleased to hear her mate say Ro- 
 bin was sensible of his fault, and asked forgiveness ; 
 indeed, Robin promised not to offend again ; she there- 
 fore received him once more to her wing ; he nestled 
 closely to her side, and soon found the warmth to com- 
 fort him : his father, without being asked, as Robin was 
 very hungry, flew for some refreshment, which Robin 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 83 
 
 gratefully received. Thus was peace restored to the 
 nest, at which the kind mother rejoiced. 
 
 For several days our robins and their nestlings lived 
 in peace ; but one time, as the hen bird approached the 
 nest, she was surprised at not hearing the chirpings of 
 the young ones ; and to find them all crowded together 
 and trembling with fear. " What is the matter ?" said 
 she. "Oh, dear mother," cried Robin; "And pray 
 come into the nest," said Pecksy, who had ventured 
 to lift up her head. " What has terrified you in this 
 manner ?" said she. " Oh, I Jo not know," said Dicky, 
 "but we have seen such a monster as I never saw be- 
 fore." "A monster! what was it like ?" "I cannot 
 tell," said Dicky, " it was so frightful." " Indeed it 
 was," said Robin, " for I had a full view of it, and 
 will give the best description I can. 
 
 " As we lay peaceably in the nest, Dicky and I were 
 trying to sing ; we suddenly heard a noise, and then a 
 great round red thing came near us, with a pair of large 
 staring eyes, a very large beak, and below that a wide 
 mouth with two rows of bones, that looked as if they 
 would grind us to pieces in an instant ; on the top of 
 the face and down the sides hung something black, 
 but not feathers. When the two eyes had stared for 
 some time, the whole disappeared." " I cannot tell," 
 said the mother ; " what this could be, but it may come 
 again." 
 
 " I hope not," said Flapsy ; " I may die with fear if 
 it does." " And so may I," said Pecksy. " Why so ?" 
 said the mother, " it has done qone of you any harm, 
 and you should not give way to such fears ; when you 
 go abroad in the world you will see many strange ob- 
 jects ; and if you are terrified at every thing you can- 
 not account for, you may live unhappy lives.' Endea- 
 
84 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 vor to be good, and then you need not fear any 
 thing." 
 
 The father now brought a worm and gave it to Ro- 
 bin ; and was going for another, when all the nestlings 
 begged him to stay, as they had been so alarmed. 
 
 The mother then related what had passed. " Non- 
 sense," said he ; " a monster ! great eyes ! large mouth ! 
 I do not fear it ; and as it did them no harm, why 
 should they be in such a terror now it was gone ?" 
 " Do not be angry, dear father," said Pecksy, "for it 
 was very frightful indeed." " Well," said he, " I will 
 fly round the orchard and see if I can meet this mon- 
 ster." The nestlings begged he would not, for fear it 
 should eat him up. But away he flew. The fears of 
 the nestlings were now very great for their father's 
 safety, but he soon returned and said he had seen the 
 monster. The little ones all clung to their mother 
 fearing the frightful creature was near. " What, agair. 
 afraid !" said the father ; " a parcel of stout hearts I 
 have here truly ! When you fly about," said he, " you 
 may see hundreds such monsters, as you call them ; 
 for it was only a man, and he is our friend, the gar- 
 dener." "A man!" cried Dicky; " was that frightful 
 thing a man ?" " Nothing else," said the father ; " and 
 a good man too," said he, " for he throws us some 
 crumbs when he is eating his breakfast." 
 
 "If he lives in the garden," said Flapsy, "I shall be 
 afraid to leavfe the nest !" but the father informed her 
 that when the rest had flown for food, he should not 
 leave them to come and feed her ; she, fearing he would 
 be quite angry, promised to obey him, and the rest be- 
 gan to recover their spirits. 
 
 Indeed, this monster was no other than honest Joe 
 the gardener, Avho went to the house and told Harriet 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 85 
 
 and Frederic of the discovery- Frederic was greatly 
 pleased, as he concluded these were the same robins 
 he so frequently fed. Harriet ran to her mamma, and 
 requested leave for her and her brother to go with Joe 
 to see the nest. They obtained leave, but received a 
 caution not to mount too high, should the nest be far 
 from the ground ; and to be careful not to frighten the 
 little ones. 
 
 The redbreasts, in the mean time, had concluded 
 to leave the young ones by themselves a little, in order 
 to prepare them for the thoughts of leaving the nest, 
 to seek food for themselves, and accordingly flew to an 
 adjoining tree. 
 
 Frederic was for running all the way, but Harriet 
 entreated him not, for fear he should make himself too 
 hot. At length they came to the spot, and Joe placed 
 the steps near the wall, which his young master quick- 
 ly mounted, and soon beheld the nestlings. " Oh, the 
 sweet creatures !" cried he; " there are four of them to 
 be sure ! I never saw any thing so pretty in my life! 
 I wish I might carry you all home !" " That must 
 not be," said Harriet; "come down, brother, now, and 
 let me look." " Good-by, robins," said Frederic, and 
 came down the steps. As the steps were broad, and 
 the nest was not high, Harriet Avent up, but would 
 only indulge herself with a peep, for fear of frighten- 
 ing them. " They are sweet creatures," said she, 
 " and I hope they will come soon with the old ones to 
 feed at our window." Joe then attended his young 
 master and mistress to the house. The two red- 
 breasts now returned, and observing the little party 
 near the nest, concluded they should hear a fine tale 
 from the nestlings ; they alighted on the ivy, and the 
 mother inquired if all was safe. " Very well, dear mo- 
 
80 HISTORY OF 'THE 
 
 ther," said Robin. " What, not one eat up by the mon- 
 ster?" cried the father. "No, father," said Dicky, 
 " we are not eaten up, but the monster has been here 
 again, and brought two more with him !" 
 
 " When I saw the top of him," said Flapsy, " my 
 heart began to flutter to such a degree that I was ready 
 to faint ; every feather of me shook ; but remembering 
 my father's advice, I recovered a little, and was very 
 glad when he was quite gone. My brothers and sis- 
 ters felt as I did, but we agreed to make ourselves as 
 comfortable as could be, as my father had told us 
 he was harmless. However, before we had quite re- 
 covered from our fright, we heard an uncommon noise, 
 not like any bird we ever heard, sometimes a hoarse 
 sound, and then a shriller noise ; when we saw some- 
 thing which bore a little resemblance to the monster, 
 but not so large or frightful ; indeed, there was some- 
 thing pretty in the appearance of this creature, though 
 it had a row of white bones, yet not so large and 
 frightful as the monster. When this was gone, an- 
 other came, but staid so short a time I cannot fully de- 
 scribe it." 
 
 The mother was glad to find the nestling? more 
 composed than she expected, and informed them, that 
 the monster as they supposed, was only their friend 
 the gardener, and the little faces were the young bene- 
 factors, by whose bounty they were every day regaled. 
 
 " Oh !" said Pecksy, " are these little creatures your 
 friends? how I was dec?ived! what bird would have 
 thought that monster could have had a tender heart ?" 
 " If we judge from appearances," said the mother, 
 " we may often be deceived : we must judge mankind 
 by their actions, not by their looks. Some ch ; ld"tn look 
 pretty, yet c.re barbarous enough to rob birds cf their 
 
UEDBIiEAST FAMILY. 87 
 
 eggs; and sometimes .hey take the nest and the help- 
 less young away. Last year," said she," "I was de- 
 prived of my nestlings in that manner, and suffered 
 much on account of their loss." 
 
 " A like calamity befell me," said the father, "as in 
 my absence my nestlings were torn away. When I 
 first missed them, I thought iny mate was taken with 
 them ; but recollecting she might have escaped, I flew 
 in search of her. 
 
 " As I was flying, I saw three boys, whose appear- 
 ance was far from disagreeable ; one of them held my 
 nest of young ones, and all seemed pleased with the 
 dear little creatures, who opened their mouths for food, 
 but all in vain. To have striven to feed tbem at that 
 time would have been destruction to myself, but I fol- 
 lowed them to see where they would place my young 
 ones. In a short time they came to a house, and one 
 of them went for some food, which, though strange, 
 they swallowed very quickly ; but missing the warmth 
 of their mother, they set up a general chirp of lamen- 
 tation, Avhich grieved me to hear : the nest was then 
 carried away, and what became of the nestlings I ne- 
 ver knew. I flew from place to place to find my mate, 
 and at last found her expiring near the place where our 
 nest had been built : at the sound of my voice she re- 
 vived a little, but with difficulty she informed me of 
 her great grief for the loss of me and her little ones. 
 I attempted to comfort her ; but it was too late she 
 breathed her last. 
 
 " I passed the remainder of the summer, and a long 
 winter after it, in a sorrowful manner. But as the 
 spring advanced, I met with one whose amiable dispo- 
 sition has renewed my comfort." Here he paused, 
 and inquired of the hen bird what became of her former 
 
88 HISTORY OF THS 
 
 mate. "Why," replied she, "after we had Io~t our 
 nest, as he was flying about in search of our young, a 
 cruel hawk caught him up in an instant. 
 
 " I felt the bitterest pangs for his loss, and led a so- 
 litary life, till I met with him, whose endearing beha- 
 vior has made society again agreeable to me." 
 
 To all this discourse the young ones listened with 
 great attention ; and Flapsy said, " Oh, I shall be 
 afraid to leave the nest ! what dangers there are in the 
 world !" But her mother said, " Every bird does not 
 meet with a hawk, or cruel boys. I hope my little 
 ones will attend to the advice of their parents, for by so 
 doing I have escaped many dangers." "And so have 
 I," said her mate ; " come, Robin and Dicky, Flapsy 
 and Pecksy, take courage ! for to-morrow you shall 
 begin to see the world." The young ones rejoiced to 
 hear that ; though Flapsy was apprehensive of seeing 
 monsters. Evening now approached, and each bird 
 turned its head under its wiog and fell asleep. 
 
 After Harriet and Frederic had been gratified with 
 the sight of the robins' nest, they were met by Tommy 
 Long and his sister Emma, who had come to visit 
 them. The former was a rolmst, rude boy, about nine 
 years old, and the latter a fine girl about eleven. 
 
 Harriet and Frederic were pleased to see them, and 
 invited them to go and see the robins. " What ro- 
 bins ?" said Tommy. 
 
 "Why, our robins in the ivy wall ; they are very 
 pretty creatures indeed; let us go and see them." 
 
 " I can see birds enough at home," said Tommy : 
 "but why did not you take the nest? we might have 
 had fine fun, in tossing the young birds about." 
 
 " Oh fie !" said Harriet, " that would be cruel." " Not 
 at all," said Tommy Long; "I often have such fun.'* 
 
RKDBREAST FAMILY. 89 
 
 " My n.amma has taught me," said Harriet, " that 
 it is cruel to give causeles < pain to any living crea- 
 ture." 
 
 " Dear -ne !" said h ,-, " liave you no such fun here ? 
 why, Harry Jumps and I make cats fly." 
 
 "Make cats fly?" said Frederic ; "how so?" "Why," 
 aaid he, " we tied a bladder to each side of their necks, 
 and then flung them from the top of the house. There 
 was an end of their purring and mewing for some 
 time, I assure you, for they lay a long time struggling 
 and gasping for breath." 
 
 " For shame ! Tommy Long,' said Harriet ; " sure, 
 this cannot be true !" " Indeed it is," said he, " and I 
 ean tell a great many funny things of this sort." 
 
 " I desire to hear no more," said Frederic, " of such 
 barbarities." 
 
 " Barbarities, indeed ! why have we not a right to 
 do as we please with dogs and cats ? Fiddle faddle 
 of your nonsense, say I. Come, you must hear how 
 we served two cocks, by setting them to fight." 
 
 Here his sister Emma interrupted him, and desired 
 him not to relate any more of his tricks, as it was not 
 agreeable to Harriet and Frederic Benson to hear 
 them. 
 
 By this time they had got to the house, where they 
 were met by Mrs. Benson ; who perceiving Harriet to 
 wipe some tears from her eyes, inquired the cause, 
 and upon being informed by Frederic, she desired the 
 little party to walk in and sit down, when she thus 
 addressed them : 
 
 " 1 cannot think you have any desire to be cruel, but 
 perhaps you think birds and beasts have no feeling; 
 but I think very differently. 
 
 " Though they cannot speak our language, each kind 
 
90 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 has one of its own, which is well understood by those 
 of the same species, and so far intelligible to us, as to 
 convince us they are pleased, grieved, afraid, or angry. 
 From hence we may infer it is cruel to rob them of 
 their young, to deprive them of their liberty, or give 
 them pain. 
 
 " Observe but the call of the hen with her brood of 
 chickens : when she finds some grain, how pleasingly 
 she salutes them ; when a dog or an enemy approach- 
 es, how alarming are her cries ! And if by accident 
 we tread on a dog's foot, will not bis howling tell us 
 he is in pain ? 
 
 " Besides, insignificant as these creatures appear in 
 your estimation, they were made by God as well as 
 you. Have you not read in the Testament, that our 
 Savior said, ' Blessed are the merciful, for they shall 
 obtain mercy ?' How then can you expect, that God 
 will bless you that are wantonly cruel to innocent 
 creatures, which he designed for happiness ?" 
 
 This admonition, which Lucy Long did not expect, 
 brought tears into her eyes ; on which the good lady 
 took her and her brother by the hand, and said : " I do 
 not wish to distress you, my dears, but merely to awa- 
 ken the natural sentiments of your hearts : reflect at 
 leisure on what I have said to you, and I believe you 
 will think me your friend. 
 
 " I wish all children to read the natural history of 
 animals ; it leads the mind to contemplate the perfec- 
 tions of the Supreme Being, and furnishes hints for the 
 conduct of human life. An idle person maybe admo- 
 nished by an ant or bee ; a thoughtless mother by a 
 hen; an unfaithful servant by a dog; and soon, as 
 Gay has expressed it in his fable of the shepherd and 
 philosopher." 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 91 
 
 *' Aye," said Tommy Long, " we may learn from the 
 learned pig in the Hay-market." 
 
 " What does he do ?" said Frederic, " I never saw 
 a learned pig." 
 
 " In respect to the learned pig, I have heard surpris- 
 ing accounts, considering that animals of that species 
 are generally regarded as stupid. It was shown in a 
 room to numbers of people. Two alphabets of large 
 letters on cards were placed on the floor; one of the 
 company was desired to name a word, which the pig 
 was to spell ; this his keeper repeated to him, and the 
 pig picked out every letter with his snout, then collect- 
 ed them together to complete the word. He was de- 
 sired to tell the hour of the day, and one of the com- 
 pany held a watch to him ; this he seemed to examine 
 with his little cunning eyes, then picked out figures for 
 the hours and minutes of the day. He performed a 
 number of tricks of the same nature, to the great di- 
 version of the spectators. 
 
 " I did not go to see this pig, for I think great cruelty 
 must have been exercised in teaching him ; and there- 
 fore would not encourage such a scheme." Tommy 
 Long and his sister seemed pleased at this account, 
 and took their leave of Harriet and Frederic, who 
 proposed going the next afternoon to see Tommy and 
 Emma- 
 
 Early in the morning hen redbreast awaked her 
 young brood. " Come, my little ones," said she, 
 " shake off your drowsiness ; remember this is the day 
 for your entrance into the world. I desire each of you 
 to dress your feathers before you go out ; for a slovenly 
 bird is my aversion, and neatness is an advantage to 
 the appearance of every one." 
 
 The father was upon the wing betimes, that he 
 
92 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 might give each of them a breakfast before they left 
 the nest ; and after he had regaled himself at the par- 
 lor window as usual, flew back to the ivy wall, and 
 cheerfully cried out, " Are you all ready, my nestlings ?" 
 " Yes," they replied. He then desired them to get 
 on the edge of the nest. Robin and Pecksy sprung 
 op in an instant, but Dicky and Flapsy, being timorous, 
 were not so expeditious. 
 
 " Now," said the father to Eobin, " stretch your 
 wings, and flutter them in this manner ;" (showing 
 him the way ;) " now hop upon this branch, and when 
 I fly, spread your wings and follow me." Robin did 
 so, and alighted safely on the ground. " Now stand 
 still till the rest join us," said the father, and flew back 
 for Dicky to do as Robin had done. Dicky was very 
 fearful of falling, and did not try to fly at his father's 
 request, but sat fluttering at the edge of the nest ; upon 
 which his father told him he must take courage and 
 fly for food for himself, as it would not be in his pow- 
 er always to bring him food : and if he did not make 
 use of his wings, he must stay and starve. " Wings 
 were made to fly with," said he, " and not always to 
 be kept folded by your sides ; birds must fly for their 
 living, and not spend all their time in dressing their 
 feathers to make themselves look pretty; fly off this 
 instant," said he. 
 
 Dicky, hearing this, endeavored to go ; but his fears 
 returning, he stood flapping his wings in a very irre- 
 solute manner, and suffered his father to lead the way 
 twice without following him. This being the case, 
 his father took a circuit, and, unperceived by Dicky, 
 came behind him and pushed him off the branch. He 
 now stretched his pinions, and, upborne by the air, 
 gently descended to the ground where Robin stood. 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 93 
 
 The mother conducted Flapsy and Pecksy down, 
 who, following the directions given, found the task 
 much easier than they expected. 
 
 All the birds hopped cheerfully about, and every 
 object on which they turned their eyes excited their 
 wonder; they were now no longer in a little nest, 
 built in a small hole, but at full liberty in the open 
 air ; the orchard appeared to them a world. 
 
 " Come," said the father, " let us proceed to business ; 
 we did not leave the nest merely to look about us ; 
 every living creature that comes into the world has 
 something to do ; we small birds have an easy task in 
 comparison of many animals, being only required to 
 seek food, build nests, and provide for our young ones, 
 till they are able to provide for themselves. 
 
 "We have indeed many enemies; hawks and other 
 birds will catch us if not on our guard ; but our worst 
 foes are naughty boys ; yet, even among them, we have 
 a better chance than many other birds, on account of 
 a story told amongst them, of a little boy and girl who 
 were lost in a wood, where they were starved to death. 
 The redbreasts of that day saw the little pair lay hand 
 in hand upon the ground, and would have fed them ; 
 but, finding they were quite dead, and unable to bury 
 them, resolved to cover them with leaves. 
 
 " This was a great task, but many a redbreast has since 
 shared the reward of it ; I believe those who do good to 
 others will meet a recompense some way or other.'"' 
 
 The father then hopped away, and the rest readily 
 followed to seek for food ; the parents instructed their 
 young ones in what manner to seek for it. 
 
 Dicky found four little worms together, but instead 
 fef calling his brother or sisters to partake, he devoured 
 ihem himself. 
 
94 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 His father observed this selfish disposition, and re- 
 proved him for it, saying, " In a family every individu- 
 al ought to consult the welfare of the whole, instead 
 of his own private satisfaction ; a day may come, wnen 
 ne who now has sufficient to supply the wants of his 
 relations, may stand in need of assistance from them." 
 
 Dicky was quite ashamed at hearing this reproof, 
 and hopped away to find something for his brothers 
 and sisters, that he might regain their good opinion. 
 
 Robin in the mean while had found a caterpillar, 
 and which he was going to take to Pecksy ; but a lin- 
 net that had a nest in the orchard snatched it from 
 him, and flew away with it. Inflamed with rage, Robin 
 called out to his father to kill the linnet. 
 
 " That would be taking violent revenge indeed," 
 said the father. " I had rather sustain an injury than 
 take revenge. We must expect many such a scramble 
 as that if we live. We should restrain our anger to be 
 happy ; for, peace and tranquillity of mind are the 
 most valuable things we can possess." 
 
 Dicky soon procured a worm, like unto those he had 
 greedily eaten, and presented it to Pecksy; she re- 
 ceived it with pleasure, acknowledging it was a kind- 
 ness, and doubly welcome from his beak. The mother 
 commended Dicky, saying, " Fraternal love stamps a 
 value on the most trifling presents." The pleasure 
 Dicky felt on hearing this, caused him to resolve for 
 the future to be generous. 
 
 The mother now thought of returning home, and 
 reminded her mate, that " if the little ones fatigued 
 themselves too much, they Avould not be able to fly 
 back." 
 
 " True," replied her mate ; " gather them under your 
 wings a little, and we will then see what they can do." 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 95 
 
 She complied with this desire, and when they were 
 sufficiently rested they raised themselves on their feet. 
 
 " Now Robin," cried the father, " let us see your 
 dexterity in flying upwards ; come, I will show you 
 how to raise yourself." 
 
 " That trouble will be unnecessary," said the con- 
 ceited bird ; " as I flew down, I know how to fly up ;" 
 then spreading his wings, he strove to rise, but could 
 only shuffle along upon the ground. The father again 
 offered to assist him, but Robin persisted in it that he 
 stood in need of no instruction, and tried again ; he 
 raised himself about a yard from the ground, but soon 
 tumbled down on his head. His mother then reproved 
 him for his obstinacy, advising him to accept his fa- 
 ther's instructions. 
 
 "Let him alone, let him alone," said the father; 
 " if he is above being taught, he may find his own way 
 to the nest ; I shall now teach his brother ; come, 
 Dicky, and try to fly upwards." 
 
 Dicky seemed in no haste to fly ; and said he did not 
 see why they needed to go back to the nest at all ; he 
 should suppose they might easily find a snug corner to 
 creep into. 
 
 " Well," said the father, " here is one as simply 
 timid as the other is ridiculously conceited ; those 
 who give way to needless fears expose themselves 
 to real dangers; here it will be cold and damp in 
 the night, and you may be devoured by rats, pole- 
 cats, weasels, ferrets, or other creatures that seek for 
 food by night ; whereas, if we go back to the nest, we 
 may lie warm, safe, and quiet." 
 
 Dicky began to think it was his irterest to obey his 
 father ; said, " he would try to fly up, but was afraid/' 
 
 " Never despair," replied his father, " of doing whai 
 
% HISTORY OF THE 
 
 is reasonable, and others have done ; see that new- 
 fledged wren, how courageously she skims along; let it 
 not be said that a redbreast lies grovelling on the earth, 
 while a wren soars above him." 
 
 Ashamed at this reproof, Dicky spread his wings and 
 his tail, obeyed his father's instructions, and safely ar- 
 rived at the nest, which was an agreeable resting place 
 after the fatigue of the day ; he then rejoiced that he 
 had so kind a father to teach him what was proper. 
 
 The mother bird found some little difficulty in teach- 
 ing Pecksy and Flapsy to fly, but being mindful of her 
 instructions, they arrived safe at the nest. 
 
 Robin now found himself alone, and gave way to an- 
 ger ; " Why," cried he, " am I to be treated in this 
 manner, who am the oldest of the family, while the 
 youngest are fondled ? But I do not care ; I can get to 
 the nest yet." Then trying to fly, he got up in the air, 
 but knew not which way to direct his course ; at 
 length being quite spent, he fell to the ground, and 
 bruised himself in several places ; he then wished he 
 had followed the advice of his father and mother, but 
 it was for that time too late. The parent birds hear- 
 ing his moaning, flew to his assistance; and as 
 Robin was sensible of his fault, they did not say much 
 to him, but sought out a place in the gardener's tool- 
 house for him to rest in ; and gathering some shreds 
 together which lay scattered about, they made him a 
 comfortable resting place, to which he hopped with 
 difficulty. The nestlings were pleased to hear Robin 
 was thus provided for, and wanted to go and keep him 
 company ; but their parents would not permit them, 
 judging it most proper Robin should be left to himself, 
 and feel the consequences of his presumption. Night 
 now approached, and Rabin began to think of the com- 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 97 
 
 fortable hours he had spent with his father and rattLer, 
 his brothers and sisters, in their nests : often did he 
 wish he had taken their advice. His eye being bruised 
 with the fall, and his neck very stiff, he could not ea- 
 sily turn his hei.d under his wing to get to sleep; and 
 as it became dark his fears were enlarged, as every 
 breath of wind that made a noise caused him to fear it 
 might be a rat or an owl, who eat birds in the dark. 
 
 Morning at length came, and his kind parents, after 
 a mournful night, carried some food in their mouths for 
 his nourishment ; Dicky, Pecksy, and Flapsy went al- 
 so to see how he had fared ; he desired them to mind 
 what their parents said to them, that they might avoid 
 a similar disaster. 
 
 Pecksy and Flapsy now desired their parents to take 
 them to see the world, but the hen bird told them it 
 would be best to wait till she and their father could go 
 with them, which they might do more freely when 
 Robin was better. However, they seemed to comply 
 with this proposal ; yet, watching an opportunity, they 
 flew across the orchard to a hedge, where many little 
 birds were playing in the sun. Their father had, un- 
 perceived by them, taken a spray on a neighboring tree, 
 to watch for their welfare ; and whilst the mother was 
 procuring food for Robin, Dicky followed his father. 
 Pecksy and Flapsy soon got at play with some young 
 chaffinches and linnets, when a hawk appeared in 
 sight. The whole party threw themselves on their 
 backs, screaming with all their might; the redbreasts, 
 recovering from their fright, and rising on their feet, 
 ventured to look about to see what was become of the 
 hawk, when they beheld him in the air carrying off a 
 young bird ; some of the feathers dropping near Pecksy 
 and Flapsy, they found it was a goldfinch. Dicky, who 
 9 
 
98 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 had seen this affair, was so terrified he knew not wha 
 to do, expecting his sisters would have been devour- 
 ed ; but they crept as soon as they could into the thick- 
 est part of a currant bush, to hide themselves under the 
 leaves. "What an escape," said the father to Dicky, 
 have those little ones had ! let us fly and see how they 
 do." Dicky was so eager to obey the invitation, that, 
 flying with all his might to the currant bush, he lost 
 his balance and fell in ; this again affrighted Pecksy 
 and Flapsy, as they at first supposed it was the hawk 
 returned ; but venturing to peep, they saw it was Dicky ; 
 and their father coming at that instant, they began to 
 tell how they had been alarmed. " I saw it all," said 
 the father, " and I hope in future you will not ramble 
 from your parents without leave ; perhaps by this time 
 your mother has missed you, and is very uneasy for 
 your welfare; Robin's disobedience should be a lesson 
 of instruction ; and as there are many dangers in the 
 world, you should not venture alone till you have more 
 experience." Pecksy and Flapsy were sensible they 
 had done wrong in going from their mother without 
 leave, and promised to behave more careful in future. 
 The father then desired them to follow him, to seek 
 their mother, whom they found attending upon Robin. 
 She perceiving the confusion Pecksy and Flapsy were 
 in, inquired the cause, and being informed by her mate, 
 was about to reprove the young ones ; but they all, as 
 with one voice, said they would not go from their pa- 
 rents again without asking leave. Robin being now 
 able to hop about a little, and the bruise on his pinion 
 getting better, he was able once more to rise to the 
 nest, where the family were pleased to receive him; 
 and they all slept soundly till morning. 
 
 The father of our little feathered family awoke them 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 99 
 
 with a delightful song, and as Robin had been long 
 confined by his bruises, he proposed to his mate their 
 taking the young ones to see a little of the world ; she 
 readily consented, and the young ones followed them 
 to a cherry tree, where they began to eat in great haste ; 
 but the mother, knowing the bad effects of unripe fruit, 
 desired they would only taste of such as were ripened 
 by the sun. In this tree were a pair of chaffinches, in 
 great agitation, striving to part one of their own brood 
 and a young sparrow, who were engaged in a furious 
 battle ; neither of them would desist, till the chaffinch 
 dropped down dead. " Oh !" said the hen chaffinch, 
 " my nestling is lost by his own folly : I cautioned 
 him not to make acquaintance with sparrows, fearing 
 they would lead him into mischief; but no entreaties 
 could prevail. As soon as he began to peck about he 
 would follow the sparrows, who taught him to steal 
 corn and other things, and to quarrel with every bird 
 he met; 1 feared he would be killed. 
 
 " Let me advise you, young redbreasts," said she, 
 to follow your parents' directions in every respect, and 
 avoid bad company." She then flew to her nest, to in- 
 form the rest of the family of this sad affair, and the 
 redbreasts took another flight. The father observing 
 a parcel of boys creeping silently along, " Stop," said 
 he, " let us perch on this tree, and see what those little 
 monsters are about." Scarcely were they seated when 
 one of the boys mounted a tree and took a nest of young 
 linnets ; soon after, another lad had found in a bush a 
 family of thrushes, and calling to his companions, they 
 eagerly seized the little creatures. The parents of the 
 linnets and thrushes now experienced great uneasi- 
 ness, and the little redbreasts were spectators of those 
 parental agonies and complaints they had formerly 
 
100 HISTORY OP THE 
 
 heard of. Pecksy wished to go back again to the 
 orchard, being much affrighted : Dicky and Flapsy 
 were also desirous of returning, as alarmed for their 
 own safety. " No," said the father, " let us stay a lit- 
 tle longer. Now we will go on." They therefore 
 took another flight, and saw a man scattering seed on 
 the ground : Dicky observing this, invited his brother 
 and sisters to go and partake of the nice seed. " Be 
 not in haste," said the father ; " watch here with me 
 a little." All the little ones stretched their necks and 
 kept a watchful eye on the man. In a few minutes a 
 number of sparrows, chaffinches, and linnets descend- 
 ed, and began to feed : but suddenly the man, who was 
 a bird-catcher, cast a net over them, and all were taken 
 captive. The chaffinches and linnets were put into 
 separate cages, where they had scarcely room to flut- 
 ter ; and as for the sparrows, their necks were wrung, 
 and put in a bag together. The little redbreasts 
 trembled for themselves, and were in great haste to 
 take wing ; and being fatigued with the days excur- 
 sion, Robin desired to return home, as his wing, which 
 had been bruised, began to ache. The mother bird 
 also was anxious to return, and the whole family took 
 flight. They soon arrived at Mrs. Benson's, where they 
 saw her and Harriet relieving a poor woman, whose 
 husband had fallen sick. The poor woman being gone, 
 the redbreast family alighted, and being soon perceiv- 
 ed by Harriet, she called her brother Frederic, and 
 they cheerfully fed the robins with some crumbs from 
 the tea-table. This proved an agreeable refreshment 
 to the feathered family, and after the father had chant- 
 ed his most pleasing notes as a token of thankfulness, 
 they flew to their nest, and each tucking its beak un- 
 der the wing, slept till the morning light appearpd. 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 101 
 
 Dicky being first awake, ventured to fly out before 
 his parents; but soon returned to tell the family he 
 had seen such a nice black and white creature, with 
 four legs, that jumped up and down an apple tree, and 
 looked so pretty he thought he should like to play with 
 it. " Let us see," said the father, " what sort of an ac- 
 quaintance Dicky has found now !" The whole family 
 took the wing, and soon came in sight of a pretty cat ! 
 " A pretty creature, to be sure," said the father, "but, 
 like the man yesterday, she is an enemy to birds." This 
 had not been long said, when puss, seeing a young 
 chicken that had strayed from the hen in the farm- 
 yard, soon sprung upon it and ran away with it in her 
 mouth. Flapsy and Pecksy screamed out, and were 
 going to fly away in a fright : but the father hastily 
 called out, " Turn this way ! turn this way !" The whole 
 party obeyed, and soon found the good effects of their 
 obedience, for in an instant they saw a flash of fire ; a 
 thick smoke followed it, and they heard a dreadful 
 sound ; a young redstart fell bleeding to the ground, 
 on which he struggled just long enough to cry, " Oh ! 
 my dear father, why did I not listen to your kind ad- 
 monitions, which I now find, too late, were given in 
 love and tenderness." 
 
 The little redbreasts were struck with consterna- 
 tion at this accident ; and Pecksy, being recovered 
 soonest, desired to know how the redstart was killed. 
 " He was shot to death," said he ; " and if you had not 
 stopped when I called, it might have proved the lot of 
 every one of you." The experience of parents teaches 
 them to see many dangers which young creatures do 
 not ; therefore you should never more stand, as you 
 sometimes have done, asking why we tell you to dc 
 so ; for had that been the case now, those who were 
 9* 
 
102 HISTORY OF THE 
 
 in a direct line with the gunner would have been 
 shot! 
 
 The young ones all promised to obey ; " Do so," said 
 he ; "but in order to this, you must do in our absence 
 what we tell you when present ; for some kinds of 
 food are very hurtful to your health ; these you should 
 not indulge in when away from us, neither should you 
 engage in play with strange birds, who may lead you 
 into mischief." 
 
 This poor redstart might have been yet alive, had 
 he attended to the advice of his parents. " But, fa- 
 ther," said Flapsy, " I cannot understand how the 
 noise we heard could occasion the death of the red- 
 start." 
 
 " Neither can I explain it, my dear," replied the fa- 
 ther ; " I only know that some men practise this sport 
 with birds, and, therefore, it is always prudent to avoid 
 them. Whenever you are about to fly from the or- 
 chard, get upon a high tree and look around you ; if 
 you see any men or boys, take a different course. But 
 now let us refresh ourselves, and then go to another 
 place for amusement." Robin complained of some 
 pain that his wing gave him at times, and was very 
 desirous of flying but a little way ; " Well," said Dicky, 
 "we can leave him behind, and look for him as we 
 come back ;" but the mother bird observed, this would 
 not be kind usage, and hoped Dicky would be content 
 with such a treat as Robin could enjoy with them ; as 
 nothing was more pleasing than to see brothers and 
 sisters love one another. 
 
 In this manner the redbreast family spent the great- 
 est part of the summer ; and as winter approached, the 
 old birds, observing their young ones were capable of 
 providing for themselves, gave them the best of ad- 
 
REDBREAST FAMILY. 103 
 
 vice. Each young one expressed its grateful thanks. 
 What a pleasing scene ! the parents had performed 
 their duty, and the young ones had no need of farther 
 assistance. They ranged the fields and gardens, sip- 
 ped the cool streams, and joined their cheerful notes 
 with other gay songsters of the grove. 
 
 As winter approached, and provision for birds grew 
 scarce, they resorted to their kind friends, the family 
 of the Bensons ; and one very frosty morning, when 
 the ground was covered with snow, they received a 
 bountiful supply from the parlor window, where they 
 saw Tommy Long and his sister Emma, who had 
 now learned, from the instructions given them by their 
 friends, and from the example of Harriet and Frede- 
 ric Benson, not to treat birds or animals of any kind 
 with cruelty. The robins found a constant supply 
 during the frost and snow in the winter ; and as spring 
 approached, each bird, following the dictates of nature, 
 chose a mate, and performed the duties to their own 
 young ones, that they had experienced the advantage 
 of from their own kind parents. 
 
 Happy would it lie for the animal creation, if every 
 human being, like Mrs. Benson, consulted the welfare 
 of inferior creatures, and neither spoiled them by in- 
 dulgence, nor injured them by tyranny ! Happy would 
 mankind be, if every one, like her, cultivated in their 
 minds, and those of their children, the divine principle 
 
 Of UNIVERSAL BENEVOLENCE. 
 
THE BRAZIER. 
 
 TBOM THE TALES OS THE CASTLE 
 
 THE unfortunate James II. of England was obliged 
 to abandon his kingdom, and take refuge in France ; 
 where, at the palace of St. Germain, Louis XIV. af- 
 forded him an asylum. A few loyal subjects followed 
 him in his retreat, and settled at St. Germain ; among 
 whom was madame de Varonne, descended from one 
 of the best families in Ireland, and whose history I am 
 going to recount. 
 
 During the life of her husband, this lady lived in 
 ease and affluence ; but, after his death, being left in a 
 foreign country without protection, she had not suffi- 
 cient interest at court to obtain any part of the pension 
 on which they had before subsisted. She neglected 
 not, however, to present petilions to the ministers, 
 who always answered, they would lay them before the 
 king; and she continued in suspense for more than 
 two years; till at last, on a renewal of her request, 
 she received a denial, in so formal and positive a style, 
 that she could no longer be blind to the fate that 
 awaited her. 
 
 Her situation was dreadful ; ever since the death of 
 M. de Varonne, she had subsisted by selling her plate, 
 and part of her furniture, till she had no longer any 
 resource. Her love of solitude, her piety, and ill 
 
THE BRAZIER. 105 
 
 health, had always prevented her mixing much with 
 the world; and still less than ever, since the death of 
 her husband. She found herself then without support, 
 without friends, without hope ; stripped of every thing, 
 plunged into a state of frightful misery ; and, that the 
 measure of her woes might be full, she was fifty years 
 of age, and her constitution was feeble and infirm. 
 
 In this her day of distress, she had recourse to Him 
 who best could grant her consolation and relief; who 
 soonest could change the severity of her destiny ; who 
 most certainly could give her fortitude to support ca- 
 lamity : she cast herself at the feet of the Almighty, 
 and arose with confidence, fortified and exalted above 
 herself, and with the full assurance of a calm resigna- 
 tion reviving in her soul. She looked with a steady eye 
 on the deplorable scene before her, and said to herself, 
 " Since it is the inevitable lot of mortals to die, of what 
 importance is it whether we die by famine, or disease; 
 whether we sink to rest under a golden canopy, or 
 upon a bed of straw ? Will death be less welcome, 
 because I have nothing to regret ? Oh no ! I shall 
 need neither exhortation nor fortitude ; I have no sa- 
 crifices to make ; abandoned by the world, I shall think 
 only of Him who rules the world ; shall behold Him 
 ready to receive me, and shall rejoice to go to meet 
 Him." 
 
 While she was in the midst of these reflections, 
 Ambrose, her footman, entered the chamber. It is 
 necessary you should know something of Ambrose ; I 
 will, therefore, give you a few traits of his character. 
 
 Ambrose was forty years of age, and had lived with 
 madame de Varonne twenty. He was naturally blunt, 
 apt to find fault, spoke little, and always appeared to 
 look with contempt on his equals, and with a degree 
 
106 THE BRAZIER. 
 
 of haughtiness on his masters. His sullen deportment 
 and dissatisfied air, made his attendance not very 
 agreeable ; but his punctuality, good conduct, and per- 
 fect fidelity, had always made him esteemed as a most 
 excellent and valuable servant. His good qualities, 
 however, were only known in part ; for he possessed 
 the most inflexible virtue : under a rough exterior was 
 concealed an elevated and generous soul. 
 
 Madame de Varonne had discharged the servants of 
 her husband soon aft'r his decease, and had only kept 
 one maid, a cook, and Ambrose; but the time was now 
 come, in which she must part with these likewise. 
 
 Ambrose, as I have said, entered her chamber with 
 a log of wood, which he was going to put on the fire, 
 when madame de Varonne said to him, " I want to 
 speak to you, Ambrose." The tone of voice in which 
 she pronounced these words alarmed Ambrose, who, 
 flinging down his log upon the hearth, exclaimed, 
 "Madam, what is the matter?" 
 
 " Do you know bow much I owe the cook-maid, 
 Ambrose ?" 
 
 " You neither owe her, nor me, nor Mary, any thing; 
 you paid us all yesterday." 
 
 " True ; that was not what I meant to say I 
 Ambrose, you must tell the cook and -Mary, I have no 
 further occasion for their services. And you, my good 
 Ambrose you must seek another place." 
 
 " Another place ! What do you mean ? No ; I will 
 live and die in your service; let what will happen, I 
 will never quit you." 
 
 " You do not know my situation, Ambrose." 
 
 " Madam, you do not know Ambrose. If they have 
 lessened your pension so that you cannot maintain 
 your other servants, so be it; you must part with 
 
THE BRAZIER. 107 
 
 them ; it cannot be helped : but I hope I have not de- 
 served to be turned away too. I am not mercenary, 
 madam, and " 
 
 " But I am ruined, Ambrose, totally ruined. I have 
 sold every thing I had to sell ; and they have taken 
 away my pension." 
 
 "Taken away your pension! That cannot be; it 
 cannot be." 
 
 " It is nevertheless very true." 
 
 " Taken away your pension ! Oh God !" 
 
 "We must adore the decrees of Providence, Am- 
 brose, and submit without repining : the greatest con- 
 solation I find amidst my misfortunes, is to be perfectly 
 resigned. Alas ! How many other unhappy beings, 
 on the wide surface of this earth, how many virtuous 
 families, are in my situation ! I have no children ; 
 my sufferings will be few, for I shall suffer alone." 
 
 " No no no !" replied Ambrose, with a broken 
 voice; "no, you shall not suffer; I have an arm, and 
 can work." 
 
 " My good Ambrose," answered madame de Va- 
 ronne. " I never doubted your attachment to me, but I 
 will not abuse your kindness : all that I desire you to 
 do for me, is to hire a small chamber, a garret ; I have 
 still money enough to support me for two or three 
 months; I can work, I can spin. Find some employ- 
 ment for me, if you can, and that is all I wish; all I 
 can admit ." 
 
 While she expressed herself in this manner, Am- 
 brose stood fixed in silence, contemplating his mis- 
 tress; and when she had finished, casting himself at 
 her feet, exclaimed : " Oh, my dear, my honored mis- 
 tress, hear the determination of your poor Ambrose, 
 who is resolved to serve you to the end of his life ; ?aid 
 
108 TH BRAZIER. 
 
 more willingly, with more respect, more ready obedi- 
 ence, than ever he did before. You have fed me, 
 .clothed me, and given me the means of living happy, 
 for more than twenty years ; I have often abused your 
 bounty, and trespassed on your patience. Pardon, 
 madam, the errors which a defective temper has occa- 
 sioned me to commit, and be assured I will make you 
 reparation. It is for that purpose only I pray the Fa- 
 ther of Mercies to spare my life." When he had end- 
 ed, he rose, and suddenly ran out of the room, without 
 waiting for a reply. 
 
 You will easily imagine what feelings of lively 
 gratitude filled the heart of madame de Varonne ; 
 she found the sympathy and kindness of her faithful 
 servant an alleviation of her distress. Ambrose re- 
 turned in a few minutes, bringing in a little bag, which 
 ne laid upon the table. " Thanks to you, madam, and 
 to my late master, I have saved these thirty guineas ; 
 from you they came, and to you have a right to return." 
 
 " What, Ambrose ! rob you of the labor of twenty 
 years ! I cannot take them." 
 
 " When you had money, madam, you gave it to me ; 
 now you have none, I give it back again ; and this is 
 all money is good for. I dare say, madam, you have 
 not forgot that I am the son of a brazier : this was my 
 first profession, which I still am master of; for at 
 those moments when I had nothing to do in the fami- 
 ly, I have gone and assisted Nicault, one of my coun- 
 trymen, rather than be idle. I will now return to my 
 trade in earnest, and with a hearty good will." 
 
 " This is too much," cried madame de Varonne ; 
 " how can I endure you should suffer thus for me ?" 
 
 " Suffer, madam, in laboring, and when my labor is 
 so useful, so necessary ? no ; it will be happiness. 
 
THE BRAZIER. 101/ 
 
 Nicault is a good, a worthy man, and will not let me 
 want; his reputation is established in the town, and 
 he is in need of just such an assistant; I am strong, I 
 can do as much work as two men ; we shall do very 
 well." Tears filled the eyes of madame de Varonne, 
 and she was unable to reply. 
 
 The day following, the other two servants were dis- 
 charged, and Ambrose hired a small, light, and neat 
 room, up three flights of stairs, which he furnished 
 with the remainder of his mistress' furniture. Thither 
 he conducted her. She had a good bed, an easy chair, 
 a small table, a writing desk, with pen, ink, and pa- 
 per, a few books, which were arranged on four or five 
 shelves, and a large wardrobe, in which was contained 
 her linen, her wearing apparel, a provision of thread 
 for her work, a silver fork and spoon, for Ambrose 
 would not suffer her to eat with pewter, and the lea- 
 thern purse which contained the thirty guineas. There 
 were besides, in one corner of the room, behind the 
 curtain, such earthen vessels as were necessary for her 
 cookery. 
 
 " This, madam," said Ambrose, " is the best cham- 
 ber I have been able to get, for the price you men- 
 tioned; there is but one room, but the girl will sleep 
 upon a mattress, which lies rolled up under your bed." 
 
 " How ! a girl, Ambrose ?" 
 
 "Certainly, madam; how could you do without? 
 She will go errands, help to dress and undress you, 
 and do other necessary offices." 
 
 " Nay, but, Ambrose " 
 
 " She will cost you little ; she is only thirteen, de- 
 sires no wages, and will live very well on what you 
 leave. As for me, I have settled every thing with 
 Nicault ; I told him I was obliged to leave you, was 
 10 
 
110 THE BRAZIER. 
 
 out of employment, and should be glad of work ; he is 
 an honest man, and my countryman ; it is only a step 
 from this, and he is to give me ten pence a day, and 
 my board and lodging. Living is cheap in this town, 
 and you, madam, will, I hope, be able to live on the 
 ten pence a day, and the ready money you have to 
 supply extraordinary occasions. I did not choose to 
 say all this before your new servant, Susannah, but I 
 will now go and bring her." 
 
 Ambrose here stepped out, and presently returned, 
 leading in a tidy, honest-looking girl, whom he pre- 
 sented to madame de Varonne, informing her she was 
 the young person concerning whom he had spoken to 
 her. " Her parents," said he, " are poor, but industri- 
 ous ; they have six children, and you, madam, will do 
 a kindness by taking this their eldest into your ser- 
 vice." Then, taking his leave of madame de Varonne, 
 Ambrose went to his new employment with his friend 
 Nicault. 
 
 Madame de Varonne was astonished, not only at 
 the generosity, but the sudden change of temper and 
 behavior in Ambrose. He, who before had been so 
 blunt and peevish, was now as kind, respectful and 
 delicate, as he was heroic. In imposing obligations 
 upon madame de Varonne, he used every precaution 
 to avoid wounding her sensibilities. 
 
 The next day madame de Varonne saw nothing of 
 Ambrose till the evening, when he just called, and, 
 contriving to have Susan sent out for a moment, he 
 drew from his pocket a bit of paper, in which his day's 
 wages were wrapped, laid it on the table, and said, 
 " There, madam, is my small mite ;" then, calling in 
 Susan, staid not for an answer, but returned to his 
 friend Nicault. How sweet must have been his sleep 
 
THE BRAZIER. Ill 
 
 after such labor ! how pleasing his dreams after a day 
 so spent ! how cheerful was he when he awaked ! If 
 we are so happy afttr doing a good deed, how inex- 
 pressible must be the pleasure of a heroic action. 
 
 Ambrose, faithful to the sublime duties he had im- 
 posed upon himself, paid every day a visit to madame 
 de Varonne, to leave with her the fruits of his indus- 
 try; he only expended as much at the end of each 
 month as would pay his washer-woman, and some 
 few other necessary expenses ; nor would he retain 
 that small sum, but asked it as a gift of his mistress. 
 In vain did madame de Varonne persuade him she 
 could live on less ; he would not hear her, or if he did, 
 it was with evident pain. 
 
 Madame de Varonne, on her part, hoping to give 
 some respite to the labors of Ambrose, worked without 
 ceasing at knitting. Susan assisted her, and went to 
 sell the product of her industry ; but when she spoke 
 to Ambrose of this, and exaggerated the profits, he 
 would only reply, " So much the better ; I am glad of 
 it," and immediately change the subject Time pro- 
 duced no alteration in his conduct; during four years 
 he never in the least varied from the virtuous ardor 
 with which he began. 
 
 One night, as madame de Varonne sat expecting 
 Ambrose as usual, the servant of Nicault entered her 
 chamber, to tell her Ambrose was so ill he Avas obliged 
 to be put to bed. Madame de Varonne instantly de- 
 sired the girl to conduct her to her master's house, and 
 at the same time ordered Susan to go for a physician. 
 Nicault, who had never seen her before, was a good 
 deal surprised: she desired him to show her the apart- 
 ment of Ambrose. 
 
 " The apartment, my lady ! it is impossible." 
 
112 THE BRAZIEK. 
 
 " Impossible ! how ? why ?" 
 
 " One 's obliged to go up a ladder to get into the loft 
 where he lies, your ladyship." 
 
 " A ladder ! and a loft ! Poor Ambrose ! go show 
 me where it is." 
 
 " But your ladyship Avill break your ladyship's neck, 
 besides, it is such a hole; your ladyship cannot stand 
 upright." 
 
 -Madame de Varonne could not restrain her tears ; 
 she begged Nicault would instantly show her the way, 
 and he brought her to the foot of a little ladder, which 
 she had much difficulty to climb ; this led her into a 
 dismal loft, in one corner of which Ambrose was lying 
 upon a bed of straw. 
 
 " Oh ! Ambrose," cried she, " in \vhat a situation do 
 I find you ! And you told me you had a good lodg- 
 ing, that you were perfectly satisfied." 
 
 Ambrose was not in a condition to reply, for he had 
 been, for some time, delirious. 
 
 Susan at last arrived, followed by the physician, 
 who was evidently surprised, at entering such an 
 apartment, to see a lady, whose mien and superior 
 deportment bespoke her rank, weeping in despair over 
 a poor journeyman brazier in a straw bed. He ap- 
 proached the sick person, examined him attentively, 
 and said they had called him too late. 
 
 Imagine the condition of madame de Varonne when 
 she heard the sentence pronounced. 
 
 "Ah, poor Ambrose!" said Nicault; "but it's all 
 his own fault: he has been ill for these eight days 
 past, but he would keep on ; there was no persuading 
 him ; he would work. At last he could not hold up 
 his head any longer, but for all that we had much ado 
 to get him to bed. He undertook more than he could 
 
THE BKAZIEK. . 113 
 
 go through, that he might board and lodge with us, 
 and so now he has killed himself with downright labor." 
 
 Madame de Varonne seemed deeply afflicted, and ad- 
 dressing herself to the physician, she conjured him not 
 to abandon Ambrose. He was a man of humanity ; 
 and besides, his curiosity was strongly incited by every 
 thing he had heard and seen ; he therefore readily en- 
 gaged to spend part of the night with his patient. Ma- 
 dame de Varonne then sent for bedding, blankets, and 
 sheets, and, with the assistance of Susan, made up a 
 bed, on which Ambrose was gently laid by Nicaultand 
 the physician ; after which she sat down and watched 
 beside him. 
 
 About four in the morning the physician went, after 
 he had bled the patient, and promised to return at noon. 
 As for madame de Varonne, you may easily imagine 
 she never quitted him a moment ; she remained eight- 
 and-forty hours at his bed-side, without the least hope ; 
 at last, on the third day, the physician thought he per- 
 ceived some favorable symptoms, and at night declar- 
 ed him out of danger. 
 
 I shall not attempt to describe the joy of madame 
 de Varonne when she saw Ambrose out of danger; 
 she would have watched the night following, but Am- 
 brose, who was now no longer delirious, would by no 
 means consent, and she returned home, overcome with 
 fatigue. The physician came on the morrow to visit 
 her, and she was so much obliged to him, so grateful 
 for the vast attention he had paid to Ambrose, that she 
 could not refuse to answer his question : she related 
 her history, and satisfied his curiosity. Three days 
 after this, he was obliged to return suddenly to Paris, 
 for he did not reside at St. Germain, leaving madame 
 de Varonne in good health, and Ambrose recovering, 
 10* 
 
114 THE BRAZIER. 
 
 The situation of madame de Varonne, however, was 
 at this instant as critical as it was distressing : in a 
 week she had expended on Ambrose what little money 
 she possessed, except just enough to supply them for 
 four or five days. But Ambrose could not, "without 
 the most imminent danger, begin to work again so soon, 
 and she shuddered with fear lest necessity should urge 
 him to labor once more at the hazard of his life. Then 
 it was that she felt all the horror of want, and re- 
 proached herself most bitterly for having accepted the 
 money of the generous Ambrose. " Had it not been for 
 me," said she, " he would have been happy ; his industry 
 would have procured him a comfortable livelihood ; 
 his faithful attachment to me has robbed him of ease, 
 health, and happiness ; nay, yet, perhaps of life. And 
 I must sink to the grave without acquitting this vast 
 obligation." 
 
 One evening, as madame de Varonne sat absorbed 
 in these melancholy reflections, Susan came running, 
 out of breath, to tell her that a great lady Avanted to 
 speak with her. 
 
 "A lady!" said her mistress; "what lady? You 
 are mistaken." 
 
 " No, no, be quick," answered Susan ; " I saw hei 
 myself, and she said, says she, ' I want to speak with 
 madame de Varonne, who lives up three pairs of stair? 
 at M. Daviet's ;' she said this out of her coach win- 
 dow ; so, as I happened to be standing at the door and 
 heard her, I said, says I, ' An't please your ladyship ;' 
 and so, says she, ' Go, my dear, and tell madame de Va- 
 ronne, that I beg she will do me the honor to permit 
 me to speak a few words with her.' " 
 
 Susan was interrupted by two or three gentle taps 
 on the door, which madame de Varonne. with agitation. 
 
THE BRAZIEK. - 115 
 
 rose to open. The lady who stood before it entered 
 with an air of diffidence and respect. Madame de Va- 
 ronne ordered Susan to leave the room, and as soon as 
 they were alone, the unknown lady began the con- 
 versation, by saying, "I am happy, madam, in being 
 the first to inform you, that the king has at last come 
 to the knowledge of your situation, and that his good- 
 ness means hereafter to recompense you for the former 
 injustice of fortune towards you." "Oh, Ambrose!" 
 exclaimed madame de Varonne, with an expression of 
 joy and gratitude in her countenance. 
 
 Her visitant could not refrain from tears. She ap- 
 proached madame de Varonne, and taking her affec- 
 tionately by the hand, said, " Come, madam, come to the 
 apartments that are prepared for you, come." 
 
 "Oh! madam," interrupted madame de Varonne, 
 "what can I say? how speak? Yet, if I durst I beg 
 your pardon ; but, madam, I have a benefactor such 
 a benefactor ! suffer me to tell you how " 
 
 " I will leave you at full liberty," said the lady ; " and 
 lest my company should at present be the least em- 
 barrassment, I will not even go with you to your 
 house ; I shall return homewards ; but first I must con- 
 duct you to your coach, which waits at the door." 
 
 "My coach!" 
 
 " Yes, dear madam ; come, let us lose no time." 
 
 In saying this, she presented her arm to madame de 
 Varonne, who scarce had power to descend the stairs. 
 When they had reached the door, the lady desired 
 one of her footmen to call madame de Varonne' 's servants. 
 She thought herself in a dream, and her astonishment 
 increased when she saw the footman beckon the car- 
 riage, which was simple and elegant, to the door, let 
 iown the step, and heard him say, " My lady's carriage 
 
116 THE BRAZIER. 
 
 P 
 
 is ready." The unknown lady then accompanied her 
 to her coach, took her leave, and stepped into her own 
 carriage. 
 
 Madame de Varonne's footman waited to receive her 
 orders, and she, with a trembling voice, desired to be 
 drove to the house of Nicault, the brazier. 
 
 The first object she beheld as she entered was Am- 
 brose Ambrose himself, in his working dress, scarce 
 out of the bed of sickness, and again, notwithstanding 
 his weakness, endeavoring to labor. Her emotions are 
 not to be described ; he was laboring for her, and she 
 came to snatch him from these painful labors, to re- 
 lease him from fatigue and misery. 
 
 " Come," cried she with transport ; " come, noble 
 Ambrose ; follow me ; quit your labors and your cares ; 
 they are ended ; your fate is changed ; delay not a 
 moment, but come." 
 
 In vain did the astonished Ambrose beg an explana- 
 tion ; in vain did he desire time at least to put on his 
 Sunday clothes ; madame de Varonne was incapable of 
 hearing, or of answering ; she took hold of his arm, 
 dragged him along, and obliged him to get into the 
 carriage. 
 
 " Would you please, madam, to be driven to your 
 new house ?" said the servant. 
 
 " Yes," said she, fixing her eyes upon Ambrose, 
 " yes, drive us to our new house." 
 
 Away they went, and madame de Varonne recounted 
 every thing as it happened to Ambrose, who listened 
 with a joy mixed with fear and doubt : he scarcely 
 durst believe in happiness so extraordinary, so unlock- 
 ed for. The carriage, at length, stopped at a neat lit- 
 tle house, in the forest de St. Germain, and they alight- 
 ed ; as they entered the hall, they were met by the un- 
 
THE BRAZIER. 117 
 
 known lady, who had been waiting for their arrival, 
 and who presented a paper to madame de Varonne. 
 
 "The king," said she, "has deigned to charge me 
 with this, madam, that I might remit it to you ; it is 
 a brevet for a pension of ten thousand livres (four 
 hundred guineas) a year, with a liberty of leaving 
 half the sum to Avhoever you shall please to nominate 
 at your decease." 
 
 " This is indeed a benefaction," cried madame de 
 Varonne. " Behold that person, madam ; behold that 
 nobly virtuous man, who is truly worthy of your pro- 
 tection, and the favor of his sovereign." 
 
 Ambrose, who had at first placed himself behind his 
 mistress, felt his embarrassment increase at these 
 words, and, taking off his cap, retreated with a bashful 
 air; for, notwithstanding the excess of his joy, he felt 
 a painful confusion at hearing himself so much prais- 
 ed ; besides that he was a little vexed to be seen, for 
 the first time, by so fine a lady, in his leathern apron 
 and dirty jacket, and could not help regretting, in some 
 degree, the want of his Sunday clothes. 
 
 The unknown lady following, cried, " Stop, Ambrose, 
 stop ; let me look at you." " Dear madam," said Am- 
 brose, bowing, "I have done nothing but what was 
 very natural ; nothing to astonish any one." 
 
 Here madame de Varonne interrupted him, to relate 
 how much she owed her support, her all, her life itself, 
 to Ambrose. 
 
 The strange lady seemed much affected. "Have I, 
 at last, after meeting with so much of coldness and 
 selfishness in the world, have I met with two individu- 
 als of noble, generous, grateful hearts ?" she exclaim- 
 ed. "Adieu, madam," she continued, "adieu; may 
 you be always happy." 
 
118 THE BRAZIER . 
 
 She had scarcely taken her departure befort, the door 
 again opened, and the physician, to whom Ambrose 
 owed his life, entered. Madame de Varonne, the mo- 
 ment she beheld him, immediately comprehended the 
 whole affair. After having testified the gratitude with 
 which her heart overflowed, she learnt from him that 
 the unknown lady was madame de P**, who resided 
 always at Versailles, where she had great influence. 
 " I have been her physician," said he, " for these ten 
 years ; I knew her benevolence, and was certain she 
 would interest herself exceedingly in your behalf, when 
 she Lad heard of your history. No sooner, indeed, had 
 P related it, than she began to verity my hopes; she 
 purchased this house, and obtained the pension of which 
 she has given you the brevet." 
 
 The feelings with which madame de Varonne and 
 the faithful Ambrose contrasted their present situation 
 with what it was only a few hours before, can be ap- 
 preciated only by the tru'y grateful and feeling mind. 
 
 You may well suppose that madame de Varonne, 
 during her whole life, 'caused Ambrose to partake ot 
 her fortune, and that she never received meney with- 
 out recollecting, with the utmost susceptibility, the 
 time when the faithful Ambrose brought his day's wa- 
 ges in a bit of paper, laid it upon the table, and said, 
 " There, madam, is my small mite." 
 
THE CHEAPSIDE APPRENTICE. 
 
 ATTEND, ye young men, who are about to enter into 
 trade, for to you I write my story. I was bound ap- 
 prentice to a respectable tradesman in Cheapside. My 
 master, Mr. Vincent, had acquired a very fair char- 
 acter, whilst he was -making a comfortable fortune. 
 His wife was a dressy, dashing woman, who liked 
 visiting and jaunting more than taking care of her 
 family. AVhilst rny master was plodding late at night in 
 the compting-house, Mrs. Vincent and her daughters 
 were either making parties abroad, or giving enter- 
 tainments at home. As we kept no footman, I was 
 allowed, when the shop was shut, to run from one 
 public place to another to call a coach, to bring Mrs. 
 Vincent and her daughters home. To lounging about 
 the purlieus of a play-house, I owe my ruin. I was 
 generally allowed to be a handsome young man 5 this, 
 unfortunately, drew upon me the notice of a set of 
 those wretched women, who nightly crowd the theatres ; 
 I should have been delighted with the notice they took 
 of me, had not my vanity whispered me that Miss 
 Vincent was in love with me. This suspicion was 
 fully confirmed to me by one Potter, an elder appren- 
 tice, but for whose wicked advice I might have lived 
 happily, and died virtuously. 
 
 The idea that Miss Vincent was in love with me, at 
 once completed me for the coxcomb. I now neglected 
 my business, and to dress out my person became the 
 only object of my thoughts: I began to commit little 
 fraud's on my master, in order to obtain money to dresa' 
 
120 THE CHEAPSIDE APPRENTICE. 
 
 out ; for ever since Potter had laughed me out of my 
 religion, every principle of moral honesty sat loosely 
 upon me. 
 
 I am sorry to say the holy Sabbath in our family 
 was only distinguished from other days by the shutting 
 of the shop ; my master spent the greater part of it in 
 posting his books, anil my mistress and her daughters 
 were either dressing to go abroad, or else to receive 
 company at home. We young men, indeed, were 
 sent to church ; but as we had no examples set us by 
 the heads of the family going thither themselves, Potter 
 and I generally hired a gig and dashed away frot one 
 tea-drinking place to another ; these scenes soon made 
 me lose all respect for virtue and religion. It v. as at 
 the Dog and Duck I first saw the infamous Miss West ; 
 she was many years older than myself: her person 
 was as lovely as her heart was wicked. She was no 
 sooner informed that I was to come into possession of 
 3000 the day I came of age, than she made use of all 
 her deceitful arts to ensnare both my soul and body, 
 as she often prompted me to defraud my master to 
 supply her extravagance. My attachment to Miss 
 Vincent was now on the decline, for Miss West had 
 so far wrought upon my vanity, as to make me believe 
 that so handsome a young fellow as I was should look 
 higher than a tradesman's daughter. From that moment 
 I treated Miss Vincent with the most marked neglect, 
 although I saw my conduct cut her to the heart ; yet, 
 at the same time, was I base enough, to borrow money 
 of her, which I wantonly squandered away on Miss 
 West. 
 
 When Potter's apprenticeship expired, instead of 
 improving his fortune by throwing it into trade, he 
 plunged at once into all the vices of the town. He 
 
THE CHEAPS1UE APPREJSTICE. 121 
 
 possessed a plausible kind of speech, which caused him 
 be appointed chairman to our club, which was chiefly 
 composed of clerks and apprentice boys. Potter's prin- 
 cipal excellence consisted in singing a merry song, 
 telling an indecent story, and teaching his hearers to 
 laugh at morality, and set all religion at defiance ; for 
 religion, he maintained, was only an old woman's tale, 
 invented by cunning heads to keep children and fools 
 in order. 
 
 There was an honest old porter in our family, who 
 for some time had set himself to watch my conduct, 
 and at length he made such a faithful report of it to my 
 master, that he gave up my indentures, and turned me 
 out of doors. 
 
 I was too much delighted with my liberty to feel any 
 sense of shame at the means by which I obtained it. 
 
 I was sorry, however, to break off entirely with Miss 
 Vincent ; for I still had a lurking affection for her ; I 
 told Potter so : his inventive genius soon laid a plan 
 whereby I might get her into my power, and take a 
 complete revenge on her whole family at the same 
 time. This was by writing her a letter, setting forth 
 the violence of my love, the unmerited disgrace I had 
 received from her family, and at the same time re- 
 questing her to grant me a private meeting, in order 
 that I might justify my conduct to her, as otherwise I 
 feared the violence of my passion would drive me to a 
 fit of despair. 
 
 This poor imprudent girl met me at the time and 
 place appointed. I will not here shock my readers 
 with relating the vile stratagems I made use of to com- 
 plete the ruin of this young lady, nor the tremendous 
 oaths I swore to repair her wrongs by marriage, as 
 soon as I came of age, which would be in a very few 
 11 
 
122 THK CHEAPSIDE APPRENTICE. 
 
 months. This somewhat abated her sorrow for the 
 very indiscreet step she had taken. 
 
 The da} 7 I became of age, I went down into the 
 country. My friends having been apprized of my pro- 
 fligate life, received me very coldly. I practised the 
 deepest hypocrisy on my good mother, to make her 
 believe I was quite a reformed man, in order to whee- 
 dle her out of a sum of money, telling her at the same 
 time, I had an immediate prospect of entering into a 
 very profitable concern with a partner of great respon- 
 sibility, if I could but increase my capital. 
 
 " Frank," said she, with firmness, " there is no trus- 
 ting to your promises ; as long as your conduct deser- 
 ved my*love, you ever found me an indulgent mother; 
 but you shall never have cause to say, I acted towards 
 you like a weak woman, by robbing my virtuous chil- 
 dren, to supply the wanton extravagance of a profligate 
 son. Your wicked life, Frank, has nearly broken my 
 heart, but it shall not shake my justice." The well- 
 known steadiness of my mother's temper convinced me 
 ut once she was not further to be imposed upon by the 
 fallacy of my arguments. 
 
 As soon as I had settled my business, I returned to 
 London to Miss Vincent, who haJ waited for me with 
 the utmost patience, fully expecting I was come to 
 fulfil my promise of marriage to her. " I can struggle 
 with want,, dear Frank," said sire, " bm I will never 
 consent to live in shame." 
 
 Nothing I am certain hardens .the heart like vice ; 
 for although this poor young creature was brought into 
 a very trying situation by the prospect of her soon 
 becoming a mother, I swore I would never make her 
 my wife, who had disgraced herself by living with me 
 as a nu'stress. On hearing this, in all the tender 
 
THE CHEAPSIDE APPRENTICE. 123 
 
 agonies of grief, she urged me to repair the wrongs I 
 had done her, reminding me at the same time, of the 
 wicked arts I had made use of to beguile her of her in- 
 nocence, and then with clasped hands and streaming 
 eyes, she threw herself on her knees before me, be- 
 seeching me to pity the agonies which rent her soul. 
 Yet still my hardened nature was untouched by her 
 sorrow ; again I solemnly swore I never would marry 
 her. 
 
 Through excess of grief she fainted away, in which 
 pitiable state I left her to the care of a servant, went 
 out and spent the rest of the evening with Miss West, 
 whose flinty heart turned into ridicule the sorrowful 
 tale I related to her. 
 
 On returning to my lodgings the next morning, I was 
 informed Miss Vincent had left them without leaving 
 behind her the least information where she was to be 
 found, and much did I rejoice when I heard it, that 
 she had taken herself off so quietly. 
 
 I now lavished my money as though it would never 
 have an end. By all, I was esteemed the most noble- 
 spirited fellow in the world, and even little wits would 
 be silent in my presence, because I was sure to pay for 
 the wine upon which they were to riot. My cash at 
 length beginning to run low, as I had teen all along 
 drawing from the principal, I advised with Potter how 
 to get furnished with future supplies. He advised the 
 gaming-table as a never failing friend, saying, it had 
 long since been the only resource from whence he de- 
 rived his subsistence. 
 
 I took his advice, and for some months was so suc- 
 cessful, that I began to dash away in higher life at the 
 west end of the town. I bought an elegant phaeton, 
 which I drove every Sunday in Hyde Park, with Miss 
 
124 THE CHEAPSIUE APrKE-STlCE. 
 
 West by my side. One day as I was driving furiously 
 through Temple Bar, I had the misfortune to overturn 
 a poor man with a heavy load on his back; on his 
 getting up, I perceived him to be Mr. Vincent's old 
 porter, to whom I formerly owed my disgrace. 
 
 "Ah! ah! what, is it you, young hopeful?" cried 
 he, on seeing to whom he owed his misfortune; " Your 
 prancing nags may die a natural death, master Frank, 
 but verily, I think 'tis more than you will, boy, for if 
 you die in your shoes, the gallows will be robbed of its 
 due. What is become of poor Mary Vincent, you pro- 
 fligate dog ; have you broken her heart, as you have 
 that of her poor afflicted parents?" 
 
 The sudden recollection of that unfortunate girl 
 caused such a swimming in my head, that the reins 
 dropped from my hands, my horses took fright, and it 
 was almost a miracle that I got home alive. The por- 
 ter's words had made such an impression on my mind, 
 that I could not shake them off. Soon after, Potter 
 calling upon me, I told him of my interview wilh the 
 old porter, and also the effect it had on me. " Frank," 
 said he, " if a fellow of your spirit can be thus easily 
 overcome by qualms of conscience, let us instantly ad- 
 journ to the tavern, since good wine is the best remedy 
 in the world to drown all uneasy recollections in." 
 
 I gladly accepted his proposal : we called a coach, 
 and off we went. He no sooner saw my spirits in- 
 flamed with wine, than he drew me to the gam in g- 
 table, where, before morning, I lost every shilling I had 
 in the world ; I applied to Potter to lend me fifty guineas, 
 as he had won more than two hundred of me. 
 
 Laughing heartily, he told me, it had ever been a 
 maxim with him, never to lend his money to a man 
 who had not prudence to keep his own; "but hark 
 
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