A cup of sweets, that can never cloy Part 2

"You are not very civil," answered Mr. Peterson. "When you came from Barbadoes last year, and had no other acquaintance, you liked very well to be with me in the holidays: however, if you desire it, my dear Frederick, you shall go to your aunt's, that you may be near your little friends, and I will write to their papa, to request that he will give you leave to be with them as much as possible, that you may partake of all their pleasures, for I do not think you will have a great deal in your aunt's house; you know she is always ill, and cannot have it in her power to procure you much amus.e.m.e.nt."

Frederick was accordingly sent to town, and his first wish was to pay a visit to his two friends in the next street. His aunt's servant was ordered to conduct him to the house, and he was shewn immediately up stairs; but, instead of meeting with those he expected, he found their papa alone in the drawing-room, sitting at a table covered with papers, and apparently very busy.

On inquiring for his schoolfellows, he was very much surprised at being informed that they were gone into the country: "for," said their papa, "they would not have liked to be confined at home all their holidays, and I should have had no time to run about with them; they might as well have remained at school as have been here; but where they are gone they will enjoy themselves; they will spend a week at their grandfather's, and from thence go to my good friend, Mr. Peterson's, where they will have all the pleasure and amus.e.m.e.nt they can possibly wish for."

Frederick was so vexed and disappointed that he could not open his lips, but made a low bow, and returned to his aunt, whom he found just risen to breakfast. She was quite crippled with rheumatism, and had so great a weakness in her eyes, that she could not bear the light, and would only allow one of the windows to have a little bit of the shutter open.

In this dismal room, without any thing to amuse himself with, was poor Frederick condemned to spend his holidays: his aunt made him read to her whenever she was awake, and it was only when she dropped asleep for half an hour in her easy chair, that he could creep softly to the other end of the room, and peep with one eye into the street, through the little opening between the shutters.

Poor Frederick now sincerely repented having been so rude and ungrateful to Mr. Peterson, and wished a thousand times a day he had been contented to stay at his house; he would have been very happy to have had it in his power to return, but dared not propose it to his aunt, and would also have been ashamed to appear before Mr. Peterson.

After many melancholy days, and tedious evenings, spent in lonely solitude, he at length saw the happy morning which was to end his captivity. "What a foolish boy I have been!" thought he, as he was putting his things together. "The day of my return to school is my first holiday, and the preparations I am making for it the only pleasure I have felt since I left it. In the country, where I might have enjoyed the liberty of running in the fields in the open air, I was discontented and restless; and I left it, to shut myself up in a sick room. I am now going back to school, to have the pleasure of hearing how agreeably all my schoolfellows have been spending their time, whilst I shall have nothing to recount to them, but how many phials were ranged on my aunt's chimney-piece, and how many hackney-coaches I could see with one eye pa.s.s through the street."

Frederick was very right; he found his two little friends just arrived, and who, for a whole week, could speak of nothing but the pleasure they had enjoyed at Mr. Peterson's. They told him of their having being several times on the river on fishing-parties, of two nice little ponies which had been procured for them, that they might ride about in the shady lanes, and round the park, and of the beautiful houses and gardens they had been taken to see in the neighbourhood.

They had a great many very pretty presents, which they shewed to Frederick, and which they had received from their friends, who had been pleased with their behaviour, and had desired they might be allowed to pay them a visit at the next vacation.

Frederick could never forget how much he had lost by his folly; he knew he had been wrong, and, as he was not a bad boy, he was not ashamed to acknowledge it, but wrote a very pretty letter to Mr. Peterson, begging him to forgive the rudeness he had been guilty of, and telling him how much he had suffered by it; a.s.suring him that he would never again desire to quit his house to go to any other, and saying, that he never should have done it, if he had not been a foolish restless boy; that he had been severely punished for his fault, and hoped he would think it enough, and grant him his pardon as soon as possible.

Mr. Peterson readily complied with his request, and invited him, the next time he left school, to accompany his two little friends to his house, where they spent a month in the midst of pleasure and amus.e.m.e.nt; sometimes riding the ponies to the top of a hill, from whence they could see the hounds followed by the huntsman, and several gentlemen on horseback; at other times a.s.sisting their good friend to entertain his tenants with their wives and children round a Christmas fire in the great hall: in short, Frederick was so happy, that he never once thought of Astley, the Park, or the play, or had any desire to quit Mr. Peterson in search of other amus.e.m.e.nts.

THE LITTLE QUARRELLERS.

Margaret and Frances lived with their papa and mamma in a pretty white house on the side of a hill; they had a very large garden which led into a meadow, at the bottom of which ran a beautiful river.

Every body thought them the happiest children in the world, and certainly they might have been so, if their dispositions had been more amiable; for their papa and mamma were very fond of them, and indulged them in every thing proper for their age, and their friends were continually bringing them presents of toys and dolls, or some pretty thing or other.

They had each a little garden of their own, full of sweet flowers and shrubs, currants, gooseberries, and strawberries. Margaret had a squirrel, in which she took great delight, for it would jump joyfully about its cage whenever she came near it, and would eat nuts and biscuit out of her hand; and Frances had a beautiful canary-bird in a nice gilt cage, which awoke her every morning with a song, and told her it was time to rise. Margaret's nurse had brought her a white hen with eight little chickens, and Frances had the prettiest bantams that ever were seen.

Their mamma sent them to walk with their maid every evening, either over the hill where the sheep and cows were feeding, or along the side of the clear river, to pick up pebbles, to hear the merry songs of the fishermen, and see the boats pa.s.s with the market-people, going to the town with their fruit and their vegetables. Sometimes their papa took them in his pleasure-boat across the river, to eat strawberries and cream at a farm-house; and sometimes they were permitted to accompany their mamma when she went to dine with her friends in the neighbourhood.

It is scarcely to be believed, that two children who might have lived so happily, should have found their greatest pleasure in tormenting each other; and though, before their parents and strangers, they appeared to be all sweetness and good-humour, that they should have been continually contriving how to vex and teaze each other. The moment they were alone, they did nothing but fight and quarrel, and dispute about trifles.

Not contented with this, whenever they were displeased, they did not care what mischief they did, but tried, by every means in their power, to vex each other, by spoiling and destroying every thing which came in their way. Margaret was quite delighted when she had been running over all Frances's garden, and treading down every thing which was growing in it; and Frances, to be revenged on her sister, never failed to go directly and pull up all her flowers by the roots, throw stones at her little chickens, and tear her doll's clothes to pieces.

One day when they had had a great quarrel about some foolish thing not worth mentioning, Margaret was so extremely angry, that she got her mamma's ink-stand, and threw the ink all over her sister's work, and then walked out of the room, leaving it on the table, Frances, who was gone to ask her mamma for some thread, no sooner returned to the parlour, and found her work in so sad a condition, but guessing immediately how it came so, instead of seeking for her sister, and telling her in a gentle manner how wrong she had acted, and begging that all their quarrels might be ended, and that they might live together as sisters should do, and endeavour to make each other happy, instead of spending their time in vexing and teazing each other--instead of doing this, the malicious girl thought of nothing but how she might be revenged; and watching for a favourable opportunity, she seized on a fine damask napkin which had been given to Margaret to hem and mark, threw it down on the hearth, contriving to let one end of it lie over the fender, and then began to poke the fire as violently as she could, hoping some of the cinders would fall upon it, and burn a few holes in it. Her wish was soon accomplished, and even beyond what she desired, for the napkin was in an instant in a blaze, and the house in danger of being burnt to the ground. Terrified almost to death, she began to scream for help, and the whole family were immediately a.s.sembled in the parlour; Margaret among the rest, with the bottom of her frock covered with ink, though she had not perceived it, and which too plainly shewed who had done the first mischievous exploit.

They were now both strictly examined, and their tricks soon discovered: their papa and mamma watched them very narrowly, and found that they were quite different when alone, to what they appeared when in their presence; and they no longer treated them with the kindness and indulgence they had hitherto done. Their gardens were taken from them, the squirrel and the canary-bird given away, and the white hen, with her little brood of chickens, sent back to the nurse: they were deprived of all their amus.e.m.e.nts, and they had lost the good opinion of their parents and friends, for the servants had told their story to every body they met with, and they were never mentioned without being called the Sly Girls, or the Little Quarrellers.

THE VAIN GIRL.

Caroline was trifling away her time in the garden with a little favourite spaniel, her constant companion, when she was sent for to her music-master; and the servant had called her no less than three different times before she thought proper to go into the house.

When the lesson was finished, and the master gone, she turned to her mamma, and asked her, in a fretful and impatient tone of voice, how much longer she was to be plagued with masters--said she had had them a very long time, and that she really thought she now knew quite enough of every thing.

"That you have had them a very long while," answered her mamma, "I perfectly agree with you; but that you have profited so much by their instruction, as you seem to imagine, I am not so certain. I must, however, acquaint you, my dear Caroline, that you will not be _plagued_ with them much longer, for your papa says he has expended such large sums upon your education, that he is quite vexed and angry with himself for having done so, because he finds it impossible to be at an equal expense for your two little sisters; I would therefore advise you, whilst he is so good as to allow you to continue your lessons, to make the most of your time, that it may not be said you have been learning so long to no purpose."

Caroline appeared quite astonished at her mamma's manner of speaking, a.s.sured her she knew every thing perfectly, and said, that if her papa wished to save the expense of masters for her sisters, _she_ would undertake to make them quite as accomplished as she herself was.

Some time after this conversation, she accompanied her mamma on a visit to a particular friend who resided in the country; and as there were several gentlemen and ladies at the same time in the house, Caroline was extremely happy in the opportunity she thought it would give her of surprising so large a party by her drawing, music, &c; and she was not very long before she gave them so many samples of her vanity and self-conceit, as rendered her quite ridiculous and disgusting.

She was never in the least ashamed to contradict those who were older and better instructed than herself, and would sit down to the piano with the utmost unconcern, and attempt to play a sonata which she had never seen before, though at the same time she could not get through a little simple song, which she had been three months learning, without blundering half a dozen times.

There lived, at about the distance of a mile from Mrs. Melvin's house, a widow lady, with her daughter, a charming little girl of thirteen years of age, on whose education (so very limited was her fortune) she had never had it in her power to be at the smallest expense: indeed, her income was so narrow, that, without the strictest economy in every respect, she could not have made it suffice to procure them the necessaries of life; and was obliged to content herself with the little instruction she could give to her child, and with encouraging her as much as possible to exert herself, and endeavour to supply, by attention and perseverance, the want of a more able instructor, and to surmount the obstacles she would have to meet with.

When Caroline heard this talked of, she concluded immediately that Laura must be a poor little ignorant thing, whom she should astonish by a display of her accomplishments, and enjoyed in idea the wonder she would shew, when she beheld her beautiful drawings, heard her touch the keys of the piano, and speak French and Italian as well as her own language; which she wished to persuade herself was the case, though she knew no more of either than she did of all the other things of which she was so vain and conceited.

She told Mrs. Melvin that she really pitied extremely the situation of the poor unfortunate Laura, and wished, whilst she was so near, she could have an opportunity of seeing her frequently, as she might give her some instruction which would be of service to her. Mrs. Melvin was extremely disgusted with the vanity of her friend's daughter, and wishing to give her a severe mortification, which she thought would be of more use to her than any lesson she had ever received, told her she should pay a visit the next morning.

The weather was extremely fine, and the whole company set forward immediately after breakfast, and were soon in sight of a very neat but small house, which they were informed belonged to the mother of Laura. A little white gate opened into a garden in the front of it, which was so neat, and laid out with so much taste, that they all stopped to admire it, for the flowers and shrubs were tied up with the utmost nicety, and not a weed was to be seen in any part of it.

"This is Laura's care," said Mrs. Melvin; "her mamma cannot afford to pay a gardener, but hires a labourer now and then to turn up the ground, and, with the help of their maid, she keeps this little flower garden in the order in which you see it; for by having inquired of those who understand it (instead of fancying herself perfect in all things), she has gained so much information, that she has become a complete florist."

They were shewn into a very neat parlour, which was ornamented with a number of drawings. "Here," says Mrs. Melvin, "you may again see the fruits of Laura's industry and perseverance; she has had no instruction, except the little her mamma could give her, but she was determined to succeed, and has done so, as you may perceive; for these drawings are executed with as much taste and judgment as could possibly be expected of so young a person, even if she had had the advantage of having a master to instruct her. The fringe on the window curtains is entirely of her making, and the pretty border and landscape on that fire-screen is of her cutting."

Caroline began to fear she should not shine quite so much as she had expected to do, and was extremely mortified when Laura came into the room, and was desired to sit down to the piano, at hearing her play and sing two or three pretty little songs, so well and so sweetly, that every one present was delighted with her.

She scarcely ever dared, after this visit, to boast of her knowledge; and if she did, Mrs. Melvin, who was her real friend, and wished to cure her of her vanity, never failed to remind her of the little she knew, notwithstanding all the money which had been expended upon her education, in comparison to Laura, who had never cost her mamma a single shilling.

THE YOUNG GARDENERS.

Charles, William, and Henry, had a large piece of ground given to them to make a garden of. Their papa gave them leave to apply to the gardener for instruction as often as they pleased, but not to expect any a.s.sistance from him or any other person: they were to put it in order, and keep it so by their own labour.

"I know," said Charles to William, "that we shall never agree with Henry; he is such an odd boy, that I really believe when once the garden is put in order, he will be contented to walk about and look at it, without ever touching any thing, for he is always quarrelling with us because we have no patience, as he calls it."--"Yes," replied William, "it is very true. Do you remember how angry he was when his bantam hen was hatching her chickens, and we helped to pull them out of the eggs!

Who would have thought we should have killed any of them! I am sure I did not; but they were so long, I could not bear to sit there all day waiting for them. I think, Charles, we had better give him his share of the ground, and let him do as he will with it, and you and I will make a pretty garden of the rest, and manage it as we think proper."

This being settled, and the ground fairly divided, they all three went to work with the utmost alacrity. They rose with the lark in the morning, turning up the earth, and clearing it of stones and rubbish; but Henry by himself had got his garden laid out in beds and borders, ready for planting, before Charles and William together had half done theirs: they could not determine how to do it; the borders were too narrow, and must be made broader; this bed must be longer, and that shorter; so that what they did in the morning, they undid in the evening, and their piece of ground lay in confusion and disorder, long after Henry had planted his borders with strawberries, and his beds were sown with annuals, and filled with pretty flowers and bulbous roots.

Charles and William had at length got their garden laid out in tolerable order, and, in other hands, it might soon have been in a very flourishing state; for their papa had given them leave to remove several pretty shrubs from his into their garden, and consequently it already wore a pleasant appearance. Two days had, however, scarcely elapsed, before these whimsical boys were tired of the manner in which their tree, &c. were planted, and longed to remove them.

"This little cherry-tree," said William, "will surely look better at the corner of the wall."

"That it will," answered Charles, "and will grow better there, I dare say; and the rose-trees, do observe how ill they appear at the end of that border--who would ever have thought of planting rose-trees in such a place?"

"n.o.body," said Charles, "and we had better change them directly, or it will be supposed we know nothing of gardening, and we shall be laughed at for pretending to it."