Rollo at Play; Or, Safe Amusements Part 10

The story that Rollo and his cousin Lucy began to read together, in the back entry, looking out towards the garden, that rainy day when they were disappointed of the excursion up the mountain, commenced as follows:--

MARIA AND THE CARAVAN.

Maria Wilton lives in the pretty white house which stands just at the entrance of the wood, where the children find the blackberries so thick in the berrying season. It is not as large or elegant a house as many that we pa.s.s on a walk through the village; but yet, with its neatly-painted front and blooming little garden, its appearance is quite as inviting as that of many a more splendid mansion. Certain it is, at least, that there is not a more pleasant or happy dwelling in the town.

Neatness and good order regulate all the arrangements of the family, and where such is the case, it is almost needless to add that peace and harmony characterize the intercourse of the inmates. It is seldom that confusion or uproar, or disputes or contentions, are known among the Wiltons.

But it was of Maria that I was intending to speak more particularly,--her kind, and yielding, and conciliating manners towards her brothers and sisters. Maria was not the oldest of the children; she was not quite nine, and her sister Harriet was as much as eleven, and her brother George still older. And yet her influence did more to maintain peace and good feeling in the family group, than would have been believed by a person who had not observed her. In every case where only her own wishes or inclinations were concerned, Maria was ready to give up to George or Harriet; because, as she said, they were older than herself; and again, she was quite as ready to yield to little Susan and w.i.l.l.y, because they were younger. Her brothers and sisters, in their turn, were far less apt to contend for any privilege or advantage, than they would have been, if she had shown herself more tenacious of her own rights.

Mr. Wilton used occasionally to go into the city, a few miles distant, upon business. He usually went in a chaise, taking one of the children with him. The excursion was to them a very pleasant one, and all antic.i.p.ated, with a great deal of pleasure, their respective turns to ride with their father. It happened that the day when it fell to Maria's turn, was to be the close of an exhibition of animals, which had been for a short time in the city. Maria's eye brightened with pleasure as her father mentioned this circ.u.mstance at the dinner table, and inquired if she would like to visit the caravan.

"O, father!" exclaimed George, eagerly, as he laid down his knife and fork; "a caravan!--Mayn't I go?"

"You cannot both go," replied his father; "and I believe it is Maria's turn to go into town with me."

"Well," said George, "but I don't believe Maria would care any thing about seeing it;" and his eye glanced eagerly from his father to Maria, and then from Maria to his father again.

"How is it, Maria?" said Mr. Wilton; "have you no wish to visit the caravan?"

Maria did not answer directly, while yet her countenance showed very plainly what her wishes really were. "Is there an _elephant_ there, father?" she, at length, rather hesitatingly inquired.

"There probably is," replied her father.

"An _elephant_!" repeated George with something of a sneer; "who has not seen an elephant? I would not give a farthing to go, if there was nothing better than an elephant to be seen."

"What _should_ you care so much to see?" inquired Mr. Wilton.

"Why, I would give any thing to see a leopard or a camel."

"A leopard or a camel!" repeated his father in the same tone in which George had made his rude speech; "I am sure I wouldn't give a farthing to see either a camel or a leopard."

"No," said George, "because you have seen them both; but _I_ never did."

"Neither has Maria seen an elephant," returned Mr. Wilton; "so what is the difference?"

George looked a little mortified at the overthrow of his argument. But still his eagerness for the gratification was not to be repressed.--"I shouldn't think a _girl_ need to care about going to see a parcel of wild beasts," he remarked, rather petulantly, as he gave his chair a push, upon rising from the table.

"O, George, George." expostulated his father, "I did not think you were either a selfish or a sullen boy."

"No, father, and he is not," said Maria, approaching her father, and taking his hand; "but he wants to go very much, and I do not care so _much_ about it; so he may go, and I will stay at home."

"You are a good girl," said her father; "but I shall not consent to any such injustice; so go and get ready as quick as possible."

"But, father, I had really a great deal rather that George should go,"

insisted Maria.

"But I cannot think that George would really, on the whole, prefer to take your place," said Mr. Wilton, turning to George.

"No, sir." replied George, who--restored by this time to a sense of propriety and justice--was standing ready to speak for himself. "No, sir; Maria is very kind; but I do not wish to take her place; I am very sorry indeed that I said any thing about it. I certainly shall not consent to hike your place, Maria," he said, perceiving that she was ready to entreat still further.

"O! but I do wish you would," said Maria. But just here her mother interposed. "If Maria would really prefer to give up her place to her brother," said Mrs. Wilton, "I certainly shall like the arrangement very much, for I am to be particularly engaged this afternoon, and, as Harriet is to be absent, I shall be very glad of some of Maria's a.s.sistance in taking care of the baby."

"O! well," said Maria, brightening up, "then I am sure I will not go: so run, George, for father is almost ready to start."

Thus the matter was amicably settled. George went with his father, and Maria remained at home to help take care of little w.i.l.l.y.

Maria loved her little brother very much, and she never seemed tired of taking care of him, even when he was ever so fretful or restless. She would leave her play, at any moment, to run and rock the baby, or to hold him in her lap; for, even if she felt inclined, at any time, to be a little out of patience for a moment, she would recollect how many hours she had herself been nursed, by night and by day, and she was glad of an opportunity to relieve her mother of some of her care and fatigue.

Her cousin, Ellen Weston, called, one afternoon, to ask her to accompany a party of little girls, who were going to gather berries in the wood near Maria's house. It happened that Maria had been left with the care of w.i.l.l.y, just as her cousin called; and it happened, too, that w.i.l.l.y was that afternoon unusually fretful and difficult to please. If Maria left him for a moment, or if she did not hold him exactly in the posture which suited him, or if she had not precisely the thing ready which he wanted at the moment, he would act just as all babies of nine or ten months sometimes take it into their heads to act. With all her patience and good-humor, she hardly knew how to manage him; and especially after having been obliged to reject so agreeable an invitation as the one her cousin brought, she found her task a little irksome.

She could hardly repress an occasional expression of impatience, as she tried in vain to please the wayward little fellow. But her patience and good-humor were very soon restored; and as she reflected that she was doing her mother a great deal of good, by staying at home with w.i.l.l.y, she felt quite willing to dismiss all thoughts of the berrying expedition. The girls, however, did not forget her. It was proposed by one of the party, when Ellen had stated the reason why Maria could not join them, that each should contribute some portion of her berries to be carried to her on their way home. All agreed very readily to the plan, and each took pains to select the largest and the ripest of her berries for Maria's basket. The gratification afforded Maria by this little token of kind remembrance, more than compensated for the self-denial which she had practised. It is almost always the case when persons cheerfully submit to any privation, for the sake of other persons, or because it is duty, that they are amply rewarded for it. They enjoy, at least, the consciousness of doing right, which is one of the very highest sources of pleasure. Maria would, at any time, have been satisfied with only this reward; but it very often happened, very unexpectedly, that something more was in store for her. This was the case upon the time when she gave up her ride, and her visit to the caravan, for the sake of her brother. I have not said that it was absolutely Maria's duty to yield to her brother, in this case: perhaps it would have been perfectly right for her to have maintained her own claims; and yet there is no doubt that she felt a great deal happier for the sacrifice she had made.

But we were going to speak of some further reward that her amiable behavior, in this instance, procured her. As her father opened a package which he had brought on his return, he silently placed in her hands a beautiful copy of a newly-published work, upon the fly-leaf of which she found written--"Maria Wilton--a reward for her kind and obliging manners towards her brothers and sisters."

SMALL CRAFT

When they had finished the story, Lucy shut the book, saying, "Maria was a good girl, was not she, Rollo?"

"Yes," said Rollo, "she was an excellent girl. I would have done just so; would not you, Lucy?"

"I ought to, I know," said Lucy, "but perhaps I should not."

"I should, I am sure," said Rollo.

Lucy was a polite girl, and she did not contradict Rollo, though she recollected how much selfishness he had shown that morning, and it did not seem to her very likely that he would have been willing to make any very great sacrifice to oblige others.

"My father says we cannot tell what we should do until we are tried,"

said Lucy.

"Well, I _know_ I should have been willing to stay at home, if I had been Maria," replied Rollo.

"But, only think, that would be preferring another person's pleasure rather than your own."

"Well, I _should_ prefer another person's pleasure rather than my own."

Rollo was beginning to get a little excited and vexed. People who boast of excellences which they do not possess, are very apt to be unreasonable and angry when any body seems to doubt whether their boastings are true. He was thus going on, insisting upon it that he should have acted as Maria had done, and was just saying that he should prefer another person's pleasure rather than his own, when Jonas came into the entry from the kitchen, with an armful of wood, which he was carrying into the parlor.

"When is it, Rollo," said Jonas, "that you prefer another person's pleasure to your own?"

"Always," said Rollo, with an air of self-conceit and consequence.

Jonas smiled, and went on with his wood.

It is always better for boys to be modest and humble-minded. They appear ridiculous to others when they are boasting what _great_ things they can do; and when they boast what _good_ things they do they are very likely to be just on the eve of doing exactly the opposite.

In a moment Jonas came back out of the parlor, and said, as he pa.s.sed through,