The Little Quaker Part 1

The Little Quaker.

by Susan Moodie.

George and William Hope were the only children of a gentleman of fortune, who lived in a fine house at the entrance of a pretty village in Berkshire.

It was this worthy gentleman's misfortune to be the father of two very perverse and disobedient sons; who, instead of trying to please him by dutiful and obliging conduct, grieved him continually by their unworthy behaviour, and then were so wicked as to laugh at the lessons of morality their parent set before them.

When they returned from school to spend the holydays, they neglected their studies to roam about the streets with low company; from whom they learned profane language, vulgar amus.e.m.e.nts, and cruelty to animals; but such conduct, as may well be supposed, did not conduce to their happiness. They had no friends among the good and virtuous in their own rank in life; and were even despised and condemned by the bad companions, who, in the first instance, had encouraged their depravity.

Their idle pursuits gave Mr. Hope great pain, who tried, by gentle remonstrances, to make them ashamed of their evil propensities; but, finding that kindness had no effect in their ungenerous dispositions, he determined for the future to punish them severely, whenever they disobeyed his commands.

Mr. Hope had a very near neighbour, whose meadow and pleasure-garden were only separated from his by a high row of paling. Mrs. Shirley, for so this lady was called, was a very excellent and benevolent woman, and a member of that respectable society of friends commonly known by the name of Quakers.

Mrs. Shirley was a widow; and, having lost her own family, she brought up her two grandchildren, a youth of fourteen years of age, and a pretty little girl, who scarcely reckoned half that number of years.

Josiah Shirley was at once his kind Grandmamma's pride and comfort; and, from his amiable and obliging conduct, was justly esteemed and beloved by the whole village; and his name was never mentioned without the praise his modest and gentlemanlike behaviour deserved.

Mr. Hope had often contrasted, with feelings of regret, this sweet boy's conduct with that of his own sons; and, hoping that his gentle temper and moral pursuits might have some effect on the perverted minds of George and William, he invited him pressingly to his house, and bestowed on the young Quaker many marks of his esteem and favour.

The approbation of the father only drew upon Josiah the dislike and envy of his sons. Among other follies, they ridiculed him for being a Quaker.

The cut of his clothes, the shape of his hat, his modest and retiring manners, were all subjects of mirth to these unthinking boys, who tried by the most provoking language to rouse him into retaliation: but Josiah was a _maker_ of _peace_, not a _breaker_ of it; and, though he could not help keenly feeling their unkindness, his good Grandmamma had early taught him this excellent lesson, "To return good for evil;" and Josiah not only treated their insults with the silent contempt they deserved, but often earnestly entreated them to renounce their foolish ways, and he would endeavour to a.s.sist them in the arduous task of reformation.

His advice was received with such rudeness, that the benevolent boy, disgusted at length with their unprovoked malice, took his leave, declining all acquaintance with the young gentlemen for the future.

"I wonder, young men, you do not blush at your disgraceful behaviour,"

exclaimed Mr. Hope, viewing his sons with unfeigned displeasure, the morning Josiah took his leave. "Your folly has deprived you of the friendship of an excellent and upright youth, whose good counsels might have benefitted you through life."

"I hate Joe Shirley, Papa," replied George, with the greatest a.s.surance; "and never will attend to a word he says; a meddling impertinent fellow!

What business can he have to trouble his head with us?"

"Go! go! unworthy as you are to be called my sons," said Mr. Hope; "I am glad your poor Mamma did not live to witness your depravity;--and you, George, whom she loved so well, that she expired with you in her arms!--it would have broken her heart to have seen you now. Go, cruel and unfeeling as you are, I no longer wonder at the good Josiah renouncing your acquaintance; but the time may come, when you will bitterly lament not taking his advice." So saying, Mr. Hope set them their accustomary tasks, and left the room.

His father's reproofs, instead of softening the heart of George, only enraged his haughty spirit more violently against the unoffending Josiah; and he was determined to annoy him every opportunity which chance should afford him: nor was it long before he was enabled to put his designs into execution.

One day, after Mr. Hope had dismissed his sons from their morning studies, William inquired of his brother, where they should play.

"Not in the garden, William," replied George; "I have not forgotten the stripes I received yesterday for treading down the flowers. I hate flowers! We cannot steal a handful of green gooseberries without spoiling the flowers."

"But we need not confine ourselves to the garden, George. We can play at football on the lawn; or shoot arrows at a mark, in the court-yard."

"I am tired of these games," said George. "Let us climb over the pales into the Quaker's meadow, and chase the geese."

"With all my heart," replied William; "but if Mrs. Shirley should see us, and tell Papa, you know how our diversion would end."

"Why surely, Will, you are not such a coward, as to be afraid of the old woman. If she catches us, she will only talk to us about cruelty and such stuff, in her methodistical way. Come, let us play in their meadow, if it is only to spite that sly-faced hypocrite, Josiah."

"It will certainly be good sport," replied William, "to see the geese waddle and scream, flapping their wide wings, which look exactly like young broadbrim's hat."

George laughed heartily at this sally. "Yes! yes! William, Master Graveairs dare not fight, if he can _scold_; so make no more scruples, but follow your leader:" and, with the greatest dexterity, climbing over the pales, these wicked boys safely descended into Mrs. Shirley's meadow.

When there, they raced the pony, and stoned the geese, till they flew screaming into a large pond in the middle of the field, in what they called a very diverting manner.

Josiah was busy working in the garden (in the cultivation of which he spent most of his leisure hours), when the general outcry from the poultry reached his ears; and, too well acquainted with the cause of their disquiet, he threw down his spade, and ran to the scene of action; and arrived just time enough to save the plumage of a hapless peac.o.c.k from being entirely demolished in their cruel hands.

"George and William Hope," said Josiah, mildly addressing himself to the intruders, "desist from such unmanly sport, and leave these poor creatures in the quiet possession of the field."

This speech was received with loud peals of laughter by the young gentlemen; and George, with mock gravity, replied--

"Verily, friend, you had better leave off preaching, and join our sport."

"I never could derive any pleasure from cruelty," returned Josiah.

"Humanity forbids me to join in diversions like these: I would I could persuade George Hope to renounce such practices."

"So you will not play with us," said George: "and you have the impudence to insult us, with what you term your _good advice_. Pray, Mr.

Consequence, do you remember to whom you are speaking?"

"Perfectly well," replied Josiah: "I fear I am wasting my words on the sons of a very good man; I wish, for _his sake_, they were more like their father."

Enraged at this speech, George darted forward, and struck Josiah such a violent blow on the head, that it knocked him down; and the spiteful boy was in the act of repeating it, when he was suddenly caught from behind, and thrown with fury to the earth.

A large Newfoundland dog, belonging to Shirley, had followed his master to the field; and, seeing him ill-treated, had thus revenged the insult, with tenfold interest; and, keeping his captive fast down to the ground, continued to growl over him in a frightful manner.

William Hope, who wanted much of the audacity of George, fled terrified towards his own home: when the geese, willing to be revenged in their turn, followed, hissing and screaming at his heels, beating him with their broad beaks and wings; whilst the prostrate George called out in a tone of agony:--

"Josiah, my good fellow, call off your dog, or he will certainly kill me!"

"I find other bodies are as little proof against pain as the poor animals they just now so wantonly tormented," said Josiah, as he raised the crest-fallen George from the ground.

"Remember, George, this lesson for the future; and, when inflicting pain on these helpless creatures, who are too weak to resist our power, be a.s.sured that G.o.d hears their cries, and will avenge their sufferings on all those who inhumanly delight in their agony."

He paused, expecting George to make some answer; but the sullen boy hung down his head in obstinate silence; whilst Josiah, still hoping to convince him of the error of his ways, continued:--

"George, I once more entreat thee to take my advice: forsake these idle pursuits, which must end in shame and misery; whilst every effort made towards self-improvement will be crowned with the blessings and esteem of a worthy parent, and the approval of thine own conscience.

"I here freely forgive the injury I just now received, and will be thy friend if thou wilt firmly resolve to renounce such evil courses."

The n.o.ble boy held out his hand as he finished speaking; but George, unable to conquer his false feeling of pride, rudely dashed back the proffered gift, and slowly and sullenly returned to his father's mansion.

When Mrs. Shirley was informed, by her grandson, of what had pa.s.sed in the meadow, she wrote a letter to Mr. Hope, couched in the mildest terms, merely requesting him to keep his sons from trespa.s.sing in her field for the future, as they insulted her grandson, and ill-used her property.

Mr. Hope was so much displeased at this fresh outrage, that, ordering the culprits into his presence, he not only told them sternly of their fault, but desired his butler to give them the most severe chastis.e.m.e.nt they had ever received before; the recollection of which, he hoped, would induce them to keep at home for the future.

Now George laid their present correction entirely on Josiah Shirley; and, as the injurer is always the most implacable, because generally in the wrong, he determined to requite the stripes he had received on the unoffending young Quaker.

Full of these unworthy resolutions, the moment he was released from confinement, he went into the stables to consult with a young man, whom his father employed as an under groom; and of whom his thoughtless sons had made a confidant and companion.

As he entered the stables, he was thus accosted by Daniel Simpson:--