“Thank you, a hundred times over, uncle David!” said Harry, when the story was finished. “I shall take care not to be found hanging any day on a hook in the larder! Certainly, Frank, you must have spent a month with the good fairy; and I hope she will some day invite me to be made a scholar of too, for Laura and I still belong to the No-book family.”
“It is very important. Harry, to choose the best course from the beginning,” observed Lady Harriet. “Good or bad habits grow stronger and stronger every minute, as if an additional string were tied on daily, to keep us in the road where we walked the day before; so those who mistake the path of duty at first, find hourly increasing difficulty in turning round.”
“But grandmama!” said Frank, “you have put up some finger-posts to direct us right; and whenever I see ‘no passage this way,’ we shall wheel about directly.”
“As Mrs. Crabtree has not tapped at the door yet, I shall describe the progress of a wise and a foolish man, to [143] see which Harry and you would prefer copying,” replied Lady Harriet, smiling. “The fool begins, when he is young, with hating lessons, lying long in bed, and spending all his money on trash. Any books he will consent to read, are never about what is true or important; but he wastes all his time and thoughts on silly stories that never could have happened. Thus he neglects to learn what was done, and thought, by all the great and good men who really lived in former times, while even his Bible, if he has one, grows dusty on the shelf. After so bad a beginning, he grows up with no useful or interesting knowledge; therefore his whole talk is to describe his own horses, his own dogs, his own guns, and his own exploits; boasting of what a high wall his horse can leap over, the number of little birds he can shoot in a day, and how many bottles of wine he can swallow without tumbling under the table. Thus, ‘glorying in his shame,’ he thinks himself a most wonderful person, not knowing that men are born to do much better things than merely to find selfish pleasure and amusement for themselves. Presently he grows old, gouty, and infirm—no longer able to do such prodigious achievements; therefore now his great delight is, to sit with his feet upon the fender, at a club all day, telling what a famous rider, shooter, and drinker, he was long ago; but nobody cares to hear such old stories; therefore he is called a ‘proser,’ and every person avoids him. It is no wonder a man talks about himself, if he has never read or thought about any one else. But at length his precious time has all been wasted, and his last hour comes, during which he can have nothing to look back upon but a life of folly and guilt. He sees no one around who loves him, or will weep over his grave; and when he looks forward, it is towards an eternal world which he has never prepared to enter, and of which he knows nothing.”
“What a terrible picture, grandmama!” said Frank, [144] rather gravely. “I hope there are not many people like that, or it would be very sad to meet with them. Now pray let us have a pleasanter description of the sort of persons you would like Harry and me to become.”
“The first foundation of all is, as you already know, Frank, to pray that you may be put in the right course and kept in it, for of ourselves we are so sinful and weak that we can do no good thing. Then feeling a full trust in the Divine assistance, you must begin and end every day with studying your Bible, not merely reading it, but carefully endeavouring to understand and obey what it contains. Our leisure should be bestowed on reading of wiser and better people than ourselves, which will keep us humble while it instructs our understandings, and thus we shall be fitted to associate with persons whose society is even better than books. Christians who are enlightened and sanctified in the knowledge of all good things, will show us an example of carefully using our time, which is the most valuable of all earthly possessions. If we waste our money, we may perhaps get more—if we lose our health, it may be restored—but time squandered on folly, must hereafter be answered for, and can never be regained. Whatever be your station in life, waste none of your thoughts upon fancying how much better you might have acted in some other person’s place, but see what duties belong to that station in which you live, and do what that requires with activity and diligence. When we are called to give an account of our stewardship, let us not have to confess at the last that we wasted our one talent, because we wished to have been trusted with ten; but let us prepare to render up what was given to us, with joy and thankfulness, perfectly satisfied that the best place in life is where God appoints, and where He will guide us to a safe and peaceful end.”
“Yes!” added Major Graham. “You have two eyes in your minds as well as in your bodies. With one of these [145] we see all that is good or agreeable in our lot—with the other we see all that is unpleasant or disappointing, and you may generally choose which eye to keep open. Some of my friends always peevishly look at the troubles and vexations they endure, but they might turn them into good, by considering that every circumstance is sent from the same hand, with the same merciful purpose—to make us better now and happier hereafter.”
“Well! my dear children,” said Lady Harriet, “it is time now for retiring to Bedfordshire; so good night.”
“If you please, grandmama! not yet,” asked Harry, anxiously. “Give us five minutes longer!”
“And then in the morning you will want to remain five minutes more in bed. That is the way people learn to keep such dreadfully late hours at last, Harry! I knew one very rich old gentleman formerly, who always wished to sit up a little later every night, and to get up a little later in the morning, till at length, he ended by hiring a set of servants to rise at nine in the evening, as he did himself, and to remain in bed all day.”
“People should regulate their sleep very conscientiously,” added Major Graham, “so as to waste as little time as possible; and our good king George III. set us the example, for he remarked, that six hours in the night were quite enough for a man—seven hours for a woman, and eight for a fool. Or perhaps, Harry, you might like to live by Sir William Jones’ rule:
[146]
CHAPTER X.
THE ILLUMINATION.
One fine morning in Charlotte Square, Peter Grey persuaded a party of his companions to spend all the money they had on cakes and sugar-plums, to make a splendid entertainment under the trees, where they were to sit like a horde of gypsies, and amuse themselves with telling fortunes to each other. Harry and Laura had no one with them but Betty, who gladly joined a group of nursery-maids at a distance, leaving them to their own devices; upon which they rushed up to Peter and offered their assistance, subscribing all their pocket-money, and begging him to set forth and obtain provisions for them as well as for himself. Neither Harry nor Laura cared for eating the trash that was collected on this occasion, and would have been quite as well pleased to distribute it among their companions; but they both enjoyed extremely the bustle of arranging this elegant déjeuné or “disjune,” as Peter called it. Harry gathered leaves off the trees to represent plates, on each of which Peter arranged some of the fruit or sweetmeats he had purchased, while they placed benches together as a table, and borrowed Laura’s white India shawl for a table-cloth.
“It looks like that grand public dinner we saw at the [147] Assembly Rooms one day!” exclaimed Harry, in an ecstacy of admiration. “We must have speeches and toasts like real gentlemen and officers. Peter! if you will make a fine oration, full of compliments to me, I shall say something wonderful about you, and then Laura must beat upon the table with a stick, to show that she agrees to all that we observe in praise of each other.”
“Or suppose we all take the names of some great personages,” added Peter, “I shall be the Duke of Wellington, and Laura, you must be Joseph Hume, and Harry, you are Sir Francis Burdett, that we may seem as different as possible; but here comes the usher of the black rod to disperse us all! Mrs. Crabtree hurrying into the square, her very gown flaming with rage! what can be the matter! she must have smelled the sugar-plums a mile off! one comfort is, if Harry and Laura are taken away, we shall have the fewer people to divide these cakes among, and I could devour every one of them, for my own share.”
Before Peter finished speaking, Mrs. Crabtree had come close up to the table, and without waiting to utter a word, or even to scold, she twitched up Laura’s shawl in her hand, and thus scattered the whole feast in every direction on the ground, after which she trampled the sugar-plums and cakes into the earth, saying,
“I knew how it would be, as soon as I saw whose company you were in, Master Harry! Peter Grey is the father of mischief! he ought to be put into the monkey’s cage at the Geological gardens! I would not be your maid, Master Grey, for a hundred a-year.”
“You would need to buy a thrashing machine immediately,” said Peter, laughing; “what a fine time I should have of it! you would scarcely allow me, I suppose, to blow my porridge! how long would it take you, Mrs. Crabtree, to make quite a perfectly good boy of me? Perhaps a month, do [148] you think? or to make me as good as Frank, it might possibly require six weeks.”
“Six weeks!” answered Mrs. Crabtree; “six years, or sixty, would be too short. You are no more like Mr. Frank than a shilling is to a guinea, or a wax light to a dip. If the news were told that you had been a good boy for a single day, the very statutes in the streets would come running along to see the wonder. No! no! I have observed many surprising things in my day, but them great pyramuses in Egypt will turn upside down before you turn like Mr. Frank.”
Some days after this adventure of Harry and Laura’s, there arrived newspapers from London containing accounts of a great battle which had been fought abroad. On that occasion the British troops of course performed prodigies of valour, and completely conquered the enemy, in consequence of which, it was ordered by government, that, in every town, and every village, and every house throughout the whole kingdom, there should be a grand illumination.
Neither Harry nor Laura had ever heard of such a thing as an illumination before, and they were full of curiosity to know what it was like; but their very faces became lighted up with joy, when Major Graham described that they would see crowds of candles flaming in every window, tar-barrels blazing on every hill, flambeaux glaring at the doors, and transparencies, fire-works, and coloured lamps shining in all the streets.
“How delightful! and walking out in the dark to see it,” cried Harry; “that will be best of all! oh! and a whole holiday! I hardly know whether I am in my right wits, or my wrong wits, for joy! I wish we gained a victory every day!”
“What a warrior you would be, Harry! Cæsar was nothing to you,” said Frank. “We might be satisfied with one [149] good battle in a year, considering how many are killed and wounded.”
“Yes, but I hope all the wounded soldiers will recover.”
“Or get pensions,” added uncle David. “It is a grand sight, Frank, to see a whole nation rejoicing at once! In general, when you walk out and meet fifty persons in the street, they are all thinking of fifty different things, and each intent on some business of his own, but on this occasion all are of one mind and one heart.”
Frank and Harry were allowed to nail a dozen of little candlesticks upon each window in the house, which delighted them exceedingly, and then, before every pane of glass, they placed a tall candle, impatiently longing for the time when these were to be illuminated. Laura was allowed to carry a match, and assist in lighting them, but in the excess of her joy, she very nearly made a bonfire of herself, as her frock took fire, and would soon have been in a blaze, if Frank had not hastily seized a large rug and rolled it round her.
In every house within sight, servants and children were to be seen hurrying about with burning matches, while hundreds of lights blazed up in a moment, looking as if all the houses in town had taken fire.
“Such a waste of candles!” said Mrs. Crabtree, angrily; “can’t people be happy in the dark!”
“No, Mrs. Crabtree!” answered Frank, laughing. “They cannot be happy in the dark! People’s spirits are always in exact proportion to the number of lights. If you ever feel dull with one candle, light another; and if that does not do, try a third, or a fourth, till you feel merry and cheerful. We must not let you be candle-snuffer to-night, or you will be putting them all out. You would snuff out the sun itself, to save a shilling.”
“The windows might perhaps be broken,” added Laura; “for whatever pane of glass does not exhibit a candle, is to [150] have a stone sent through it. Harry says the mob are all glaziers, who break them on purpose to mend the damage next day, which they will be paid handsomely for doing.”
There were many happy, joyous faces, to be seen that evening in the streets, admiring the splendid illumination; but the merriest party of all, was composed of Frank, Harry, and Laura, under the command of uncle David, who had lately suffered from a severe fit of the gout; but it seemed to have left him this night, in honour of the great victory, when he appeared quite as much a boy as either of his two companions. For many hours they walked about in the streets, gazing up at the glittering windows, some of which looked as if a constellation of stars had come down for a night to adorn them; and others were filled with the most beautiful pictures of Britannia carrying the world on her shoulders; or Mars showering down wreaths of laurel on the Duke of Wellington, while victory was sitting at his feet, and fame blowing a trumpet at his ear. Harry thought these paintings finer than any he had ever seen before, and stood for some moments entranced with admiration, on beholding a representation in red, blue, yellow, and black, of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, all doing homage to St. George mounted on a dragon, which breathed out fire and smoke like a steam-boat. Nothing, however, occasioned the party such a burst of delightful surprise, as when they first beheld the line of blazing windows more than a mile long, from the bottom of the Canongate to the highest pinnacle of the Castle, where they seemed almost to meet the stars shining above, in their perpetual glory. “You see,” remarked Major Graham, when he pointed them out to his young companions, “there is a fit emblem of the difference between earth and heaven. These lights nearer and brighter to us at present; but when they have blazed and glittered for one little hour, they come to an end; while those above, which we see so dimly now, will continue to [151] shine for ages and generations hereafter, till time itself is no more.”
Occasionally, during their progress, Harry felt very indignant to observe a few houses perfectly dark; and whether the family were sick, or out of town, or whatever the reason might be, he scarcely became sorry when a frequent crash might be heard, as the mob, determined to have their own way this night, aimed showers of stones at the offending windows, till the very frames seemed in danger of being broken. At last uncle David led his joyous little party into Castle Street, in which not a light was to be seen, and every blind seemed carefully closed. A crowd had assembled, with an evident intention to attack these melancholy houses, when Major Graham suddenly caught hold of Harry’s arm, on observing that he had privately picked up a large stone, which he was in the very act of throwing with his whole force at one of the defenceless windows. And now the whole party stood stock still, while uncle David said in a very angry and serious voice,
“Harry! you heedless, mischievous boy! will you never learn to consider a moment before you do what is wrong? I am exceedingly displeased with you for this! What business is it of yours whether that house be lighted up or not?”
“But, uncle David! surely it is very wrong not to obey the government, and to be happy like everybody else! Besides, you see the mob will break those windows at any rate, so it is no matter if I help them.”
“Then, for the same reason, if they were setting the house on fire, I suppose you would assist the conflagration, Harry. Your excuse is a very bad one; and when you hear what I have to say about this house, let it be a lesson for the rest of your life, never to judge hastily, nor to act rashly. The officer to whom it belonged, has been killed in the great battle abroad; and while we are rejoicing in the victory [152] that his bravery helped to gain, his widow and children are weeping within those walls, for the husband and father who lies buried on a foreign shore. Think what a contrast these shouts of joy must be to their grief.”
“Oh, uncle David! how sorry I am!” said Harry. “I deserve to go home this moment, and not to see a candle again for a week. It was very wrong of me indeed. I shall walk all the way home, with my eyes shut, if you will only excuse me.”
“No, no, Harry! that is not necessary! If the eyes of your mind are open, to see that you have acted amiss, then try to behave better in future. When people are happy themselves, they are too apt to forget that others may be in distress, and often feel quite surprised and provoked at those who appear melancholy; but our turn must come like theirs. Life is made up of sunshine and shadow, both of which are sent for our good, and neither of them last, in this world, for ever; but we should borrow part of our joys, and part of our sorrows, from sympathy with all those we see or know, which will moderate the excess of whatever is our own portion in life.”
At this moment, the mob, which had been gradually increasing, gave a tremendous shout, and were on the point of throwing a torrent of stones at the dark, mournful house, which had made so narrow an escape from Harry’s vengeance, when Major Graham, forgetting his gout, hastily sprung upon a lamp-post, and calling for attention, he made a speech to the crowd, telling of the brave Captain D—— who had died for his country, covered with wounds, and that his mourning family was assembled in that house. Instantly the mob became as silent and motionless as if they had themselves been turned into stones; after which they gradually stole away, with downcast eyes, and mournful countenances; while it is believed that some riotous people, who had been loudest and fiercest at first, afterwards stood at the top of the [153] little street like sentinels, for more than an hour, to warn every one who passed, that he should go silently along, in respect for the memory of a brave and good officer. Not another shout was heard in the neighbourhood that night; and many a merry laugh was suddenly checked from reverence for the memory of the dead, and the sorrow of the living; while some spectators remarked, with a sigh of melancholy reflection, that men must ever join trembling with their mirth, because even in the midst of life they are in death.
“If we feel so much sorrow for this one officer and his family, it shows,” said Frank, “what a dreadful thing war is, which costs the lives of thousands and tens of thousands in every campaign, by sickness and fatigue, and the other sources of misery that accompany every army.”
“Yes, Frank! and yet there has scarcely been a year on earth, while the world has existed, without fighting in some country or another, for, since the time when Cain killed Abel, men have been continually destroying each other. Animals only fight in temporary irritation when they are hungry, but pride, ambition, and folly of every kind, have caused men to hate and massacre each other. Even religion itself has caused the fiercest and most bloody conflicts, though, if that were only understood and obeyed as it ought to be, the great truths of Scripture would produce peace on earth, and good-will among all the children of men.”
The whole party had been standing for some minutes opposite to the post-office, which looked like a rainbow of coloured lamps, and Harry was beginning, for the twentieth time, to try if he could count how many there were, when Major Graham felt something twitching hold of his coat pocket behind, and on wheeling suddenly round, he perceived a little boy, not much older than Harry, darting rapidly off in another direction, carrying his own purse and pocket-handkerchief in his hand. Being still rather lame, and [154] unable to move very fast, Major Graham could only vociferate at the very top of his voice, “Stop thief! stop thief!” but not a constable appeared in sight, so the case seemed desperate, and the money lost for ever, when Frank observed also what had occurred, and being of an active spirit, he flew after the young thief, followed closely by Harry. An eager race ensued, up one street, and down another, with marvellous rapidity, while Frank was so evidently gaining ground, that the thief at last became terrified, and threw away the purse, hoping thus to end the chase; but neither of his pursuers paused a moment to pick it up, they were so intent upon capturing the little culprit himself. At length Frank sprung forward and caught him by the collar, when a fierce conflict ensued, during which the young thief was so ingenious, that he nearly slipped his arms out of his coat, and would have made his escape, leaving a very tattered garment in their hands, if Harry had not observed this trick, and held him by the hair, which, as it was not a wig, he could not so easily throw off.
At this moment, a large coarse ruffianly-looking man hurried up to the party, evidently intending to rescue the little pick-pocket from their custody; so Frank called loudly for help, while several police-officers who had been sent by Major Graham, came racing along the street, springing their rattles, and vociferating, “Stop thief!”
Now, the boy struggled more violently than ever to disentangle himself, but Frank and Harry grasped hold of their prisoner, as if they had been a couple of Bow Street officers, till at length the tall fierce man thought it time to be off, though not before he had given Harry a blow on the face, that caused him to reel back, and fall prostrate on the pavement.
“There’s a brave little gentleman!” said one of the constables, helping him up, while another secured the thief. “You ought to be knighted for fighting so well! This boy [155] you have taken is a sad fellow! He broke his poor mother’s heart a year since by his wicked ways, and I have long wished to catch him. A few weeks on the tread-mill now, may save him from the gallows in future.”
“He seems well practised in his business,” observed Major Graham. “I almost deserved; however, to lose my pocket-book for bringing it out in a night of so much crowding and confusion. Some lucky person will be all the richer, though I fear it is totally lost to me.”
“But here is your pocket-handkerchief, uncle David, if you mean to shed any tears for your misfortune,” whispered Laura; “how very lucky that you felt it going!”
“Yes, and very surprising too, for the trick was so cleverly executed! That little rascal might steal the teeth out of one’s head, without being noticed! When I was in India, the thieves there were so expert that they really could draw the sheets from under a person sleeping in bed, without disturbing his slumbers.”
“With me, any person could do that, because I sleep so very soundly,” observed Frank. “You might beat a military drum at my ear, as they do in the boy’s sleeping rooms at Sandhurst, and it would not have the smallest effect. I scarcely think that even a gong would do!”
“How very different from me,” replied Laura. “Last night I was awakened by the scratching of a mouse nibbling in the wainscoat, and soon after it ran across my face.”
“Then pray sleep to-night with your mouth open, and a piece of toasted cheese in it, to catch the mouse,” said Major Graham. “That is the best trap I know!”
“Uncle David,” asked Frank, as they proceeded along the street, “if there is any hope of that wicked boy being reformed, will you try to have him taught better? Being so very young, he must have learned from older people to steal.”
“Certainly he must! It is melancholy to know how carefully mere children are trained to commit the very worst [156] crimes, and how little the mind of any young boy can be a match for the cunning of old, experienced villains like those who lead them astray. When once a child falls into the snare of such practised offenders, escape becomes as impossible as that of a bird from a limed twig.”
“So I believe,” replied Frank. “Grandmama told me that the very youngest children of poor people, when first sent to school in London, are often waylaid by those old women who sell apples in the street, and who pretend to be so good-natured that they make them presents of fruit. Of course these are very acceptable, but after some time, those wicked wretches propose that the child in return shall bring them a book, or anything he can pick up at home, which shall be paid for in apples and pears. Few little boys have sufficient firmness not to comply, whether they like it or not, and after that the case is almost hopeless, because, whenever the poor victim hesitates to steal more, those cruel women threaten to inform the parents of his misconduct, which terrifies the boy into doing anything rather than be found out.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” exclaimed Laura. “It all begins so smoothly! No poor little boy could suspect any danger, and then he becomes a hardened thief at once.”
“Grandmama says, too, that pick-pockets, in London used to have the stuffed figure of a man hung from the roof of their rooms, and covered all over with bells, for the boys to practise upon, and no one was allowed to attempt stealing on the streets, till he could pick the pocket of this dangling effigy, without ringing one of the many bells with which it was ornamented.”
“I think,” said Harry, “when the young thieves saw that figure hanging in the air, it might have reminded them how soon they would share the same fate. Even crows take warning when they see a brother crow hanging dead in a field.”
[157]
“It is a curious thing of crows, Harry, that they certainly
punish thieves among themselves,” observed Major Graham.
“In a large rookery, some outcasts are frequently to
be observed living apart from the rest, and not allowed to
associate with their more respectable brethren. I remember
hearing formerly, that in the great rookery at ————,
when all the other birds were absent, one solitary crow was
observed to linger behind, stealing materials for his nest
from those around, but next morning a prodigious uproar
was heard among the trees,—the cawing became so vociferous,
that evidently several great orators were agitating the
crowd, till suddenly the enraged crows flew in a body upon
the nest of their dishonest associate, and tore it in pieces.”
“Bravo!” cried Frank. “I do like to hear about all the odd ways of birds and animals! Grandmama mentioned lately, that, if you catch a crow, and fasten him down with his back to the ground, he makes such an outcry, that all his black brothers come wheeling about the place, till one of them at last alights to help him. Immediately the treacherous prisoner grapples hold of his obliging friend, and never afterwards lets him escape; so, by fastening down one after another, we might entrap the whole rookery.”
“I shall try it some day!” exclaimed Harry, eagerly. “What fun to hear them all croaking and cawing!”
“We shall be croaking ourselves soon with colds, if we do not hurry home,” added uncle David. “There is not a thimbleful of light remaining, and your grandmama will be impatient to hear all the news. This has really been a most adventurous night, and I am sure none of us will soon forget it.”
When the whole party entered the drawing-room, in a blaze of spirits, all speaking at once, to tell Lady Harriet what had occurred, Mrs. Crabtree, who was waiting to take a couple of little prisoners off to bed, suddenly gave an exclamation of astonishment and dismay when she looked at [158] Harry, who now, for the first time since the robber had knocked him down, approached the light, when he did, to be sure, appear a most terrible spectacle! His jacket was bespattered with mud, his shirt-frill torn and bloody, one eye almost swelled out of his head, and the side of his face quite black and blue.
“What mischief have you been in now, Mr. Harry?” cried Mrs. Crabtree, angrily; “you will not leave a whole bone in your body, nor a whole shirt in your drawer!”
“These are honourable scars, Mrs. Crabtree,” interrupted Major Graham. “Harry has been fighting my battles, and gained a great victory! we must illuminate the nursery!”
Uncle David then told the whole story, with many droll remarks, about his purse having been stolen, and said that, as Harry never complained of being hurt, he never supposed that anything of the kind could have occurred; but he felt very much pleased to observe how well a certain young gentleman was able to bear pain, as boys must expect hard blows in the world, when they had to fight their way through life, therefore it was well for them to give as few as they could, and to bear with fortitude what fell to their own share. Uncle David slyly added, that perhaps Harry put up with these things all the better for having so much practice in the nursery.
Mrs. Crabtree seemed rather proud of Harry’s manly spirit, and treated him with a little more respect than usual, saying, she would fetch him some hot water to foment his face, if he would go straight up stairs with Laura. Now, it very seldom happened, that Harry went straight anywhere, for he generally swung down the bannisters again, or took a leap over any thing he saw on the way, or got upon some of the tables and jumped off, but this night he had resolutely intended marching steadily up to bed, and advanced a considerable way, when a loud shout in the street attracted his attention. Harry stopped, and it was repeated again, so [159] seizing Laura by the hand, they flew eagerly into Lady Harriet’s dressing-room, and throwing open a window, they picked up a couple of cloaks that were lying on a chair, and both stepped out on a balcony to find out what was going on; and in case any one should see them in this unusual place, Harry quietly shut the window down, intending to remain only one single minute. Minutes run very fast away when people are amused, and nothing could be more diverting than the sight they now beheld, for at this moment a grand crash exploded of squibs and rockets from the Castle-hill, which looked so beautiful in the dark, that it seemed impossible to think of anything else. Some flew high in the air, and then burst into the appearance of twenty fiery serpents falling from the sky, others assumed a variety of colours, and dropped like flying meteors, looking as if the stars were all learning to dance, while many rushed into the air and disappeared, leaving not a trace behind. Harry and Laura stood perfectly entranced with admiration and delight, till the fire-works neither burst, cracked, nor exploded any more.
A ballad-singer next attracted their notice, singing the tune of “Meet me by moonlight,” and afterwards Laura shewed Harry the constellation of Orion mentioned in the Bible, which, besides the Great Bear, was the only one she had the slightest acquaintance with. Neither of them had ever observed the Northern Lights so brilliant before, and now they felt almost alarmed to see them shooting like lances of fire across the sky, and glittering with many bright colours, like a rainbow, while Laura remembered her grandmama mentioning some days ago, that the poor natives of Greenland believe these are the spirits of their fathers going forth to battle.
Meantime, Lady Harriet called Frank, as usual, to his evening prayers and reading in her dressing-room, where it was well known that they were on no account to be [160] disturbed. After having read a chapter, and talked very seriously about all it was intended to teach, they had begun to discuss the prospect of Frank going abroad very soon to become a midshipman, and he was wondering much where his first great shipwreck would take place, and telling Lady Harriet about the loss of the Cabalvala, where the crew lived for eight days on a barren rock, with nothing to eat but a cask of raspberry jam, which accidentally floated within their reach. Before Frank had finished his story, however, he suddenly paused, and sprung upon his feet with an exclamation of astonishment, while Lady Harriet, looking hastily round in the same direction, became terrified to observe a couple of faces looking in at the window. It was so dark, she could not see what they were like, but a moment afterwards the sash began slowly and heavily opening, after which two figures leaped into the room, while Frank flew to ring a peal at the bell, and Lady Harriet sunk into her own arm-chair, covering her face with her hands, and nearly fainting with fright.
“Never mind, grandmama! do not be afraid! it is only us!” cried Harry; “surely you know me?”
“You!!!” exclaimed Lady Harriet, looking up with amazement. “Harry and Laura!! impossible! how in all the world did you get here? I thought you were both in bed half an hour ago! Tiresome boy! you will be the death of me some time or other! I wonder when you will ever pass a day without deserving the bastinado!”
“Do you not remember the good day last month, grandmama, when I had a severe toothache, and sat all morning beside the fire? Nobody found fault with me then, and I got safe to bed, without a single Oh fie! from noon till night.”
“Wonderful, indeed! what a pity I ever allowed that tooth to be drawn, but you behaved very bravely on the occasion of its being extracted. Now take yourselves off! I [161] feel perfectly certain you will tell Mrs. Crabtree the exact truth about where you have been, and if she punishes you, remember that it is no more than you both deserve. People who behave ill are their own punishers, and should be glad that some one will kindly take the trouble to teach them better.”
[162]
CHAPTER XI.
THE POOR BOY.
The following Saturday morning, Frank, Harry, and Laura were assembled before Lady Harriet’s breakfast hour, talking over all their adventures on the night of the illumination; and many a merry laugh was heard while uncle David cracked his jokes and told his stories, for he seemed as full of fun and spirits as the youngest boy in a play-ground.
“Well, old fellow!” said he, lifting up Harry, and suddenly seating him on the high marble chimney-piece. “That is the situation where the poor little dwarf, Baron Borowloski was always put by his tall wife, when she wished to keep him out of mischief, and I wonder Mrs. Crabtree never thought of the same plan for you.”
“Luckily there is no fire, or Harry would soon be roasted for the Giant Snap-’em-up’s dinner,” said Frank, laughing; “he looks up there like a China Mandarin. Shake your head, Harry, and you will do quite as well!”
“Uncle David!” cried Harry, eagerly, “pray let me see you stand for one moment as you do at the club on a cold day, with your feet upon the rug, your back to the fire, [163] and your coat-tails under your arms! Pray do, for one minute!”
Uncle David did as he was asked, evidently expecting the result, which took place, for Harry sprung upon his back with the agility of a monkey, and they went round and round the room at a full gallop, during the next five minutes, while Lady Harriet said she never saw two such noisy people, but it was quite the fashion now, since the king of France carried his grandchildren, in the same way, every morning, a picture of which had lately been shown to her.
“Then I hope his majesty gets as good an appetite with his romp as I have done,” replied Major Graham, sitting down. “None of your tea and toast for me! that is only fit for ladies. Frank, reach me these beef-steaks, and a cup of chocolate.”
Harry and Laura now planted themselves at the window, gazing at crowds of people who passed, while, by way of a joke, they guessed what everybody had come out for, and who they all were.
“There is a fat cook with a basket under her arm, going to market,” said Harry. “Did you ever observe when Mrs. Marmalade comes home, she says to grandmama, ‘I have desired a leg of mutton to come here, my lady! and I told a goose to be over also,’ as if the leg of mutton and the goose walked here, arm-in-arm, of themselves.”
“Look at those children, going to see the wild beasts,” added Laura, “and this little girl is on her way to buy a new frock. I am sure she needs one! that old man is hurrying along because he is too late for the mail-coach; and this lady with a gown like a yellow daffodil, is going to take root in the Botanical Gardens!”
“Uncle David! there is the very poorest boy I ever saw!” cried Harry, turning eagerly round; “he has been standing in the cold here, for ten minutes, looking the picture of misery! he wears no hat, and has pulled his long [164] lank hair to make a bow, about twenty times. Do come and look at him! he is very pale, and his clothes seem to have been made before he began to grow, for they are so much too small, and he is making us many signs to open the window. May I do it?”
“No! no! I never give to chance beggars of that kind, especially young able-bodied fellows like that, because there are so many needy, deserving people whom I visit, who worked as long as they could, and whom I know to be sober and honest. Most of the money we scatter to street beggars goes straight to the gin-shop, and even the very youngest children will buy or steal, to get the means of becoming intoxicated. Only last week, Harry, the landlord of an ale-house at Portobello was seen at the head of a long table, surrounded with ragged beggar boys about twelve or fourteen years of age, who were all perfectly drunk, and probably your friend there might be of the party.”
“Oh no! uncle David! this boy seems quite sober and exceedingly clean, though he is so very poor!” replied Laura; “his black trowsers are patched and repatched, his jacket has faded into fifty colours, and his shoes are mended in every direction, but still he looks almost respectable. His face is so thin you might use it for a hatchet. I wish you would take one little peep, for he seems so anxious to speak to us.”
“I daresay that! we all know what the youngster has to tell! Probably a wife and six small children at home, or, if you like it better, he will be a shipwrecked sailor at your service. I know the whole affair already; but if you have sixpence to spare, Laura, come with me after breakfast, and we shall bestow it on poor blind Mrs. Wilkie, who has been bed-ridden for the last ten years; or old paralytic Jemmy Dixon the porter, who worked hard as long as he was able. If you had twenty more sixpences, I could tell you of twenty more people who deserve them as much.”
[165]
“Very true,” added Lady Harriet. “Street beggars, who
are young and able to work, like that boy, it is cruelty to
encourage. Parents bring up their children in profligate
idleness, hoping to gain more money by lying and cheating,
than by honest industry, and they too often succeed,
especially when the wicked mothers also starve and disfigure
these poor creatures, to excite more compassion. We must
relieve real distress, Harry, and search for it as we would
for hidden treasures, because thus we show our love to God
and man; but a large purse with easy strings will do more
harm than good.”
“Do you remember, Frank, how long I suspected that old John Davidson was imposing upon me?” said Major Graham. “He told such a dismal story always, that I never liked to refuse him some assistance; but yesterday, when he was here, the thought struck me by chance to say, ‘What a fine supper you had last night, John!’ You should have seen the start he gave, and his look of consternation, when he answered, ‘Eh, Sir! how did ye hear of that! We got the turkey very cheap, and none of us took more than two glasses of toddy.’”
“That boy is pointing to his pockets, and making more signs for us to open the window!” exclaimed Laura. “What can it all mean! he seems so very anxious!”
Major Graham threw down his knife and fork—rose hastily from breakfast—and flung open the window, calling out in rather a loud, angry voice, “What do you want, you idle fellow? It is a perfect shame to see you standing there all morning! Surely you don’t mean to say that an active youngster like you would disgrace yourself by begging?”
“No, Sir! I want nothing!” answered the boy respectfully, but colouring to the deepest scarlet. “I never asked for money in my life, and I never will.”
“That’s right, my good boy!” answered the Major, instantly changing his tone. “What brings you here then?”
[166]
“Please, Sir, your servants shut the door in my face, and
every body is so hasty like, that I don’t know what to do.
I can’t be listened to for a minute, though I have got something
very particular to say, that some one would be glad to
hear.”
Major Graham now looked exceedingly vexed with himself, for having spoken so roughly to the poor boy, who had a thoughtful, mild, but care-worn countenance, which was extremely interesting, while his manner seemed better than his dress.
Frank was despatched, as a most willing messenger, to bring the young stranger up stairs, while uncle David told Harry that he would take this as a lesson to himself ever afterwards, not to judge hastily from appearances, because it was impossible for any one to guess what might be in the mind of another; and he began to hope this boy, who was so civil and well-spoken, might yet turn out to be a proper, industrious little fellow.
“Well, my lad! Is there anything I can do for you?” asked Major Graham, when Frank led him kindly into the room. “What is your name?”
“Evan Mackay, at your service. Please, Sir, did you lose a pocket-book last Thursday, with your name on the back, and nine gold sovereigns inside?”
“Yes! that I did, to my cost! Have you heard anything of it?”
The boy silently drew a parcel from his pocket, and without looking up or speaking, he modestly placed it on the table, then colouring very deeply, he turned away, and hurried towards the door. In another minute he would have been off, but Frank sprung forward and took hold of his arm, saying, in the kindest possible manner, “Stop, Evan! Stop a moment! That parcel seems to contain all my uncle’s money. Where did you get it? Who sent it here?”
[167]
“I brought it, Sir! The direction is on the pocket-book,
so there could be no mistake.”
“Did you find it yourself then?”
“Yes! it was lying in the street that night when I ran for a Doctor to see my mother, who is dying. She told me now to come back directly, Sir, so I must be going.”
“But let us give you something for being so honest,” said Frank. “You are a fine fellow, and you deserve to be well rewarded.”
“I only did my duty, Sir. Mother always says we should do right for conscience’ sake, and not for a reward.”
“Yes! but you are justly entitled to this,” said Major Graham, taking a sovereign out of the purse. “I shall do more for you yet, but in the meantime here is what you have honestly earned to-day.”
“If I thought so, Sir,”——said the poor boy, looking wistfully at the glittering coin. “If I was quite sure there could be no harm——, but I must speak first to mother about it, Sir! She has seen better days once, and she is sadly afraid of my ever taking charity. Mother mends my clothes, and teaches me herself, and works very hard in other ways, but she is quite bed-ridden, and we have scarcely anything but the trifle I make by working in the fields. It is very difficult to get a job at all sometimes, and if you could put me in the way of earning that money, Sir, it would make mother very happy. She is a little particular, and would not taste a morsel that I could get by asking for it.”
“That is being very proud!” said Harry.
“No, Sir! it is not from pride,” replied Evan; “but mother says a merciful God has provided for her many years, and she will not begin to distrust Him now. Her hands are always busy, and her heart is always cheerful. She rears many little plants by her bedside, which we sell, and she teaches a neighbour’s children, besides sewing for [168] any one who will employ her, for mother’s maxim always was, that there can be no such thing as an idle Christian.”
“Very true!” said Lady Harriet. “Even the apostles were mending their nets and labouring hard, whenever they were not teaching. Either the body or the mind should always be active.”
“If you saw mother, that is exactly her way, for she does not eat the bread of idleness. Were a stranger to offer us a blanket or a dinner in charity, she would rather go without any than take it. A very kind lady brought her a gown one day, but mother would only have it if she were allowed to knit as many stockings as would pay for the stuff. I dare not take a penny more for my work than is due, for she says, if once I begin receiving alms, I might get accustomed to it.”
“That is the good old Scotch feeling of former days,” observed Major Graham. “It was sometimes carried too far then, but there is not enough of it now. Your mother should have lived fifty years ago.”
“You may say so, indeed, Sir! We never had a drop of broth from the soup-kitchen all winter, and many a day we shivered without a fire, though the society offered her sixpence a-week for coals, but she says ‘the given morsel is soon done;’ and now, many of our neighbours who wasted what they got, feel worse off than we, who are accustomed to suffer want, and to live upon our honest labour. Long ago, if mother went out to tea with any of our neighbours, she always took her own tea along with us.”
“But that is being prouder than anybody else,” observed Frank, smiling. “If my grandmama goes out to a tea-party, she allows her friends to provide the fare.”
“Very likely, Sir! but that is different when people can give as good as they get. Last week a kind neighbour sent us some nice loaf bread, but mother made me take it back, with her best thanks, and she preferred our own oat [169] cake. She is more ready to give than to take, Sir, and divides her last bannock, sometimes, with anybody who is worse off than ourselves.”
“Poor fellow!” said Frank, compassionately; “how much you must often have suffered!”
“Suffered!” said the boy, with sudden emotion. “Yes! I have suffered! It matters nothing to be clothed in rags,—to be cold and hungry now! There are worse trials than that! My father died last year, crushed to death in a moment by his own cart-wheels,—my brothers and sisters have all gone to the grave, scarcely able to afford the medicines that might have cured them,—and I am left alone with my poor dying mother. It is a comfort that life is not very long, and we may trust all to God while it lasts.”
“Could you take us to see Mrs. Mackay?” said Major Graham, kindly. “Laura, get your bonnet.”
“Oh, Sir! that young lady could not stay half a minute in the place where my poor mother lives now. It is not a pretty cottage such as we read of in tracts, but a dark cold room, up a high stair, in the narrowest lane you ever saw, with nothing to sit on but an old chest.”
“Never mind that, Evan,” replied Major Graham. “You and your mother have a spirit of honour and honesty that might shame many who are lying on sofas of silk and damask. I respect her, and shall assist you if it be possible. Show us the way.”
Many dirty closes and narrow alleys were threaded by the whole party, before they reached a dark ruinous staircase, where Evan paused and looked round, to see whether Major Graham still approached. He then slowly mounted one flight of ancient crumbling steps after another, lighted by patched and broken windows, till at last they arrived at a narrow wooden flight, perfectly dark. After groping to the summit, they perceived a time-worn door, the latch of which was gently lifted by Evan, who stole noiselessly into [170] the room, followed by uncle David and the wondering children.
There, a large cold room, nearly empty, but exceedingly clean, presented itself to their notice. In one corner stood a massive old chest of carved oak, surrounded with a perfect glow of geraniums and myrtles in full blossom; beside which were arranged a large antique Bible, a jug of cold water, and a pile of coarsely-knitted worsted stockings. Beyond these, on a bed of clean straw, lay a tall, emaciated old woman, apparently in the last stage of life, with a face haggard by suffering; and yet her thin, withered hands were busily occupied with needle-work, while, in low, faltering tones, she chanted these words,