Читать книгу: «The Bad Family & Other Stories», страница 2

Generous Susan thinks all day long how she can add to the happiness of others. It is her greatest pleasure to relieve distress, to do good, and to promote the comforts of all around her. She watches the looks of her parents, that she may fly to oblige them. If they are going out to ride in the coach, and there is not room enough for all the children, she will give up her place, that one of her brothers or sisters may go. She will at all times leave play, or decline paying a visit, to attend on Emma, her sick sister. She sits whole hours by her bed-side to watch her while she sleeps, and is careful to stir neither hand or foot, lest she should disturb her slumbers. When awake, she reads to her, talks to her, or sings to her, if that seems most to amuse her. She would gladly bear the pain herself, if it were possible so to relieve poor Emma.

When Susan has any money given to her, she does not treat herself with sweetmeats or toys, but buys something that will be useful to her brothers or sisters. At other times she will buy a pair of shoes for a poor child that goes bare-footed, or purchase a book for some little boy or girl to learn to read in. Her mamma often gives her old frocks and gowns to bestow on some distressed family, and then Susan works with all her might for several days, to mend and make them up in the most useful manner: for she has been told that a poor woman who has two or three children to take care of, and goes out to daily labour, has not time to work with her needle, and perhaps does not know how to do it properly. When Susan has mended or made three or four little frocks, and sees the children neatly dressed in them, she feels more delight and pleasure than if she had twenty dolls of her own, clothed in silks and satins. Generous Susan has the blessing of the poor and the love of all her family.

Merry Agnes, the youngest child of the whole, is a fine, healthy, lively, sprightly, laughing little girl, who feels no pain, and has no cause for sorrow. She is a kind of plaything for her elder brothers and sisters, who all delight in her good-humour. They never tease, torment, and try to put her out of temper, as some children do to those who are younger than themselves, but they commend her goodness and strive to improve her. When they tell her not to do anything, she obeys them at once: for she sees that they are all gay, smiling, happy children, because they do what is right. If she wants to have what is not proper for her, she can bear to be denied, and skips away just as merry as before. This little girl will become very clever, for her brothers and sisters take pleasure in teaching her what they have been taught, and she attends to their lessons, and improves by their advice. She knows that they are all good, and she wishes to be like them.

It is a fine sight to see this Good Family all together: for among them there are no sour looks or rude words, no murmurs, no complaints, or quarrels. No: all is kindness, peace, and happiness.

Foolish Fears

Mary Charlotte had a silly habit of screaming when she saw a spider, an earwig, a beetle, a moth, or any kind of insect; and the sound of a mouse behind the wainscot of the room made her suppose she should die with fright. The persons with whom she lived used to pity her for being afraid, and that made her fond of the silly trick, so that she became worse daily, and kept the house in a constant tumult and uproar: for she would make as much noise about the approach of a poor insect not much larger than the head of a pin, as if she had seen half a dozen hungry wolves coming with open jaws to devour her.

Mary Charlotte was once asked by Mrs. Wilson, a very good lady, to go with her into the country, and Mary was much pleased at the thought of going to a house where there was a charming garden and plenty of nice fruit. But the country is a sad place for people who encourage such foolish fears, because one cannot walk in a garden or field without seeing numbers of harmless insects.

Mrs. Wilson, with her coach full of guests, arrived at her country-house just before dinner, and as soon as that meal was over, Mary begged leave to go out into the shrubbery. It was a charming place, and Mary was quite delighted with the clusters of roses and all the sweet-smelling shrubs and flowers that seemed to perfume the air. But as she was tripping along, behold on a sudden a frog hopped across the path. It was out of sight in a moment, yet Mary could go no farther; she stood still and shrieked with terror. At the same instant she saw a slug creeping upon her frock, and she now screamed in such a frantic manner that her cries reached the house. The company rushed out of the dining parlour, and the servants out of the kitchen. Mrs. Wilson was foremost, and in her haste to see what was the matter, she stumbled over a stone, and fell with such violence against a tree, that it cut her head dreadfully; she was covered with a stream of blood, and was taken up for dead.

It was soon known that the sight of a frog and a slug was all that ailed Miss Mary, and then how angrily and scornfully did every one look at her, to think that her folly had been the cause of such a terrible disaster. Mary Charlotte had not a bad heart, and when she heard Mrs. Wilson's groans of pain while the doctors were dressing her wounds, she wept bitterly, and sorely repented her silly unmeaning fears.

Mrs. Wilson was in great danger for many days, and Mary crept about the house in the most forlorn manner, for no one took any notice of her, and she dared not go out in the garden, for fear still of meeting some mighty monster of a snail, or something equally alarming. At length Mrs. Wilson grew better, and then she sent for Mary to her room, and talked to her very kindly and very wisely on the folly of fearing things which had not the power to hurt her, and which were still more afraid of her than she could be of them – and with reason, since she was stronger, and had far more power to hurt and give pain than a thousand frogs or mice had.

Mary promised that she would try to get the better of her fault, and she soon proved that her promise was sincere.

One day she was with Mrs. Wilson in her chamber, and this good lady, being fatigued and sleepy, gave Mary a book of pretty stories to divert her, and begged the little girl would make no noise while she slept. Mrs. Wilson lay down on the bed, and Mary sat on a stool at some little distance. All was as still as possible. After some time, as Mary chanced to lift her eyes from her book, she saw not far from her a spider, who was spinning his web up and down from the ceiling. She was just going to scream, when she thought of the mischief she had already done to Mrs. Wilson, and she forbore. At the same moment, as she turned her head to the other side, a little gray mouse sat on the table, nibbling some crumbs of sweet cake that had been left there. Mary now trembled from head to foot, but she had so much power over herself that she neither moved nor cried out. This effort, though it cost her some pain at first, did her good, for in a minute or two she left off trembling. Her fear went away by degrees, and then she could observe and wonder at the curious manner in which the spider spun long lines of thread out of its own mouth, and made them fast to each other and the wall just as he pleased; and could also admire the sleek coat and bright eyes of the little gray mouse on the table. Mary's book slipped from her lap, and as she stooped to catch it, that it might not fall on the floor, she was seen by the two visitors, who instantly fled away to their retreats in the greatest fright possible. Neither spider nor gray mouse appeared again that day; and ever after Mary Charlotte had courage and prudence, and took care not to do mischief to others, nor deprive herself of pleasure, by the indulgence of foolish fears.

The Broken Crutch

One hot day in the month of June, a poor sunburnt lame sailor, with but one leg, was going along the road, when his crutch broke in half, and he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees to the side of the road, and sit down to wait till some coach or cart came by, whose driver he would ask to take him up. The first that passed that way was a stage coach, but the man who drove it was a surly fellow, and he would not help the sailor, as he thought he should not be paid for it.

Soon after this the tired sailor fell fast asleep upon the ground, and though a thick shower of rain came on, yet still he slept: for sailors when on board their ships have to bear all sorts of weather.

When the wind blows, the waves of the sea often dash over the deck of the vessel and wet the poor men to the skin while they are pulling the ropes and shifting the sails.

When the lame sailor awoke he found a boy's coat and waistcoat laid on his head and shoulders, to keep him from being wet; and the boy sat by, in his shirt, trying to mend the broken crutch with two pieces of wood and some strong twine. 'My good lad,' said the sailor, 'why did you pull off your own clothes to keep me from being wet?' 'O,' said he, 'I do not mind the rain, but I thought the large drops that fell on your face would awake you, and you must be sadly tired to sleep so sound upon the bare ground. See, I have almost mended your crutch, which I found broke; and if you can lean on me, and cross yonder field to my uncle's farmhouse, I am sure he will get you a new crutch. Pray, do try to go there. I wish I was tall enough to carry you on my back.'

The sailor looked at him with tears in his eyes, and said, 'When I went to sea five years ago, I left a boy behind me, and if I should now find him such a good fellow as you seem to be, I shall be as happy as the day is long, though I have lost my leg and must go on crutches all the rest of my life.'

'What was your son's name?' the boy asked.

'Tom White,' said the sailor, 'and my name is John White.'

When the boy heard these names he jumped up, threw his arms round the sailor's neck, and said, 'My dear, dear father, I am Tom White, your own little boy.'

How great was the sailor's joy thus to meet his own child, and to find him so good to those who wanted help! Tom had been taken care of by his uncle while his father was at sea, and the sunburnt, lame sailor found a happy home in the farmhouse of his brother; and though he had now a new crutch, he kept the broken one as long as he lived, and showed it to all strangers who came to the farm, as a proof of the kind heart of his dear son Tom.