The Big Nightcap Letters Part 7

"One morning Arthur awoke at his usual hour, but not with his usual smile. His face was all puckered up like a frozen apple. He floundered about the bed, and b.u.mped his head against the head-board, and was just as cross as forty bears.

"Of course every thing went wrong; he put his stockings on wrongside out, tied his shoes in a hard knot, pulled on his pantaloons with the back part before, and drew his arms through his jacket upside down. Did you ever hear of such a piece of work?

"When Mary came to brush his hair and wash his face, he screamed out, stamping his foot at her--'Do stop! Stop! I tell you! You brush me as hard as ever you can! I wish you would leave me alone, you ugly old thing!'

"Oh, dear, dear, what a sad boy! He puts me in mind of that other naughty boy who scolded his nurse in a piece of poetry. This is it:

"'Oh _why_ must my face be washed so clean, And scrubbed and scoured for Sunday?

When you know very well, as you've always seen, 'Twill be dirty again on Monday.

"'My hair is stiff with the hateful soap, That behind my ears is dripping; My smarting eyes, I'm afraid to ope, And my lips the suds are sipping.

"'They're down my throat, and they're up my nose, And to choke me you seem to be trying, That I'll shut my mouth, you needn't suppose, For how can I keep from crying?

"'And you rub as hard as ever you can, And your hands are hard, to my sorrow; No woman shall wash me, when I'm a man, And I wish I was one to-morrow.'

"But at last Arthur went sulking down to breakfast, _forgetting to say his prayers_; and taking his seat at the table, whined out, the very first thing--'Just look at this piece of toast; it is all burnt, and as hard as a stone. I won't have it!' Then he tasted his coffee, and exclaimed--'Pooh! what coffee! perfect slops!'

"His mother was grieved to see him acting so naughtily, and said, gently--'I am sorry, Arthur, you are not pleased; will you have an egg?'

"Arthur cracked an egg with his teaspoon, looked at it, threw it down, and turning up his nose with disdain, said--'Eggs! Brickbats you mean!

they have been boiling all night.'

"This exhibition of ill temper distressed his mother exceedingly, but she did not say any thing to him then; being a woman of excellent sense, she formed a plan in her mind which she hoped would effect a cure.

"Arthur was an only child. His parents were rich, and they preferred that he should be educated at home; they feared his learning evil as well as good at a large school. Hitherto this plan had been very successful, for Arthur was as studious and obedient as his tutors could possibly wish; and this sudden and sad change made all around him unhappy. I will give you a history of one of these miserable days.

"On this morning, his tutor arrived, as usual, at nine o'clock; and commenced by giving his pupil a lesson in penmanship. There was an ominous scowl on Arthur's face. He twitched his copy-book before him, pretended he could not find a good pen, scratched and blotted the paper from top to bottom, and so, when the lesson was finished, the page was a sight to behold.

"'You have not tried to write well,' said his master, mildly.

"'My pen was abominable, and the paper was greasy,' said Arthur, sulkily.

"'A bad workman always pretends that his _tools_ are to blame,' said the master.

"'Oh, dear me! you are never satisfied! If I write too lightly, you say it looks as if a spider had scampered over the paper with inky legs; if I bear on harder, you ask me how much horse power I have put on to make such heavy strokes. I don't know what to do! I don't! You are always grumbling.'

"'Oh, no! not always, for here are a great many pages on which I have written, "Very well; very well, indeed."'

"'That was only by chance,' said Arthur.

"'But if these chances do not always occur, whose fault is it?'

"'Oh, mine! I suppose you mean to say,' answered Arthur, pettishly.

"'Well, my dear boy, only look at your writing to-day. It resembles a company of soldiers, each of whom carries his musket to suit himself, this one to the right, that to the left, a third horizontally, a fourth perpendicularly, and all the rest of the letters with broken backs and crooked legs. Just look at it!'

"'Oh, dear! you are always mocking me,' whined Arthur. 'One would think I did it all on purpose. Oh, dear me!'

"At last this lesson came to an end; but the others were no better, and the poor master went away with his temper sorely tried, sadly remembering the happy and good little Arthur of the year before.

"In the afternoon, his mother said, in a pleasant tone, 'Come, dear Arthur, come and take a walk with me; it is such a lovely day; the robins are singing in the trees; and look, how fast the delicate white clouds are sailing through the air! Come, dear.'

"'It isn't pleasant! and I can't _bear_ robins,' said Arthur.

"His mother sighed and went alone.

"Left at home, Arthur tried to amuse himself. He got out his puzzle, or dissected map of the United States; but as ill-tempered people are never patient or gentle, in a very little while he had cracked South Carolina nearly in two, snapped off the top of Maryland, broken New York into three pieces, and made mince-meat of the Union generally, which was a very shocking thing to do, even on a dissected map; and then, the cross boy ended by throwing all the States into the black coal-scuttle.

"After this he tried to read; but nothing seemed to amuse him. From 'Robinson Crusoe' he went to the 'Rollo Books,' and from those to 'Nightcaps,' and declared they were all stupid alike, 'a perfect pack of nonsense!'

"As a last resource, he called Jumbo, his big cat, who was so fond of Arthur, that he would let him do just what he pleased with him, that is, as long as his little master was kind; but to-day he pinched his ears, and pulled his tail, and twitched his whiskers at such a rate, that poor Jumbo puckered up his face like a pudding-bag, and squalled like a first-cla.s.s opera singer.

"'The bad old thing!' exclaimed Arthur. 'I declare, he ought to be drowned! I'll never play with him again. Scat! scat! get out!' and off scampered poor Jumbo, and hid himself behind the kitchen door.

"All this time you are wondering his mother did not punish him. Wait a little. Just read to the end, and then tell me what you think of her mode of punishment. I shall wish very much to know if you approve of it.

"One evening, after Arthur had gone to bed, his father and mother had a long consultation with each other about the best way of curing Arthur's ill temper; and they agreed upon a plan his mother had thought of during the day.

"The next morning came, when the trial was to be made. Every one received his or her instructions from Arthur's mother, and were quite ready to begin the new mode of punishment.

"But, for a wonder, on this particular morning Arthur awoke feeling very pleasant and amiable. Never mind, he was to receive his lesson all the same.

"While Mary was helping him to dress, she seemed very snappish and impatient.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ARTHUR'S MOTHER TELLING HER PLAN.]

"'Do, for goodness sake, keep still, Master Arthur!' she said; 'you are always fidgeting and fussing.'

"'_I?_' said Arthur, laughing. 'Why, I've been as still as a mouse!'

"Mary was silent for a moment, but presently she exclaimed--'How carelessly you have washed your hands, your shirt is all wet. I have shown you how to wash without splashing a hundred times. You worry my life out!'

"'I _tried_ to do as you told me,' said Arthur, with a little sigh.

"'Oh, fiddlesticks! don't tell _me_! You are a terrible boy!' and Mary bounced out of the room, banging the door behind her.

"Arthur went down to breakfast, and ran up to his mother to tell her about Mary. 'I think _she_ was "terrible,"' he said. 'What could be the matter with her, mamma?'

"'Perhaps she was indulging in ILL TEMPER,' answered his mother, significantly.

"When they sat down to breakfast there was no toast.

"'I should like a piece of toast,' said Arthur.

"His mother rang a little bell, and the cook came in. She looked first at the mistress, with a peculiar smile, and then she looked at Arthur.

"'Margaret,' said he, 'there is no toast.'