"I will be revenged of him, that I will, and make him heartily repent it," said little Philip to himself with a countenance quite red with anger. His mind was so engaged, that, as he walked along, he did not see his dear friend Stephen, who happened at that instant to meet him, and consequently heard what he had said.
"Who is that," said Stephen, "that you intend to be revenged on?" Philip, as though awakened from a dream, stopped short, and, looking at his friend, soon resumed the smile that was natural to his countenance. "Ah!" said he, "come with me, my friend, and you shall see whom I will be revenged on. I believe you remember my supple jack, a very pretty little cane, which my father gave me. You see it is now all in pieces. It was farmer Robinson's son, who lives in yonder thatched cottage, that reduced it to this worthless state."
Stephen very coolly asked him what induced the farmer's son to break it. "I was walking very peaceably along," replied Philip, "and was playing with my cane, by twisting it round my body. By some accident or other one of the two ends got out of my hand when I was opposite the gate just by the wooden bridge, and where the little miscreant had put down a pitcher full of water, which he was carrying home from the well. It so happened that my cane, in springing, overset the pitcher, but did not break it. He came up close to me, and began to call me names; when I assured him I did not intend any harm,—what I had done was by accident, and I was very sorry for it. Without paying any regard to what I said, he instantly seized my supple jack, and twisted it here as you see; but I will make him heartily repent it."
"To be sure," said Stephen, "he is a very wicked boy, and he is already very properly punished for it, since nobody likes him, nor will do any thing for him. He finds it very difficult to get any companion to play with him, and, if he attempts to intrude himself into their company, they will all instantly leave him. To consider this properly, I think, should be sufficient revenge for you."
"All this is true," replied Philip, "but he has broken my cane. It was a present from my papa, and a very pretty cane you know it was. My father will perhaps ask me what has become of it; and, as he will suppose I have carelessly lost his present, he will probably be angry with me; of which this little saucy fellow will be the cause. I offered to fill his pitcher again, having knocked it down by accident—I will be revenged."
"My dear friend," said Stephen, "I think you will act better in not minding him, as your contempt will be the best punishment you can inflict upon him. He is not upon a level with you, and you may be assured that he will always be able to do more mischief to you than you would choose to do him. And now I think of it, I will tell you what happened to him not long since.
"Very unluckily for him, he chanced to see a bee hovering about a flower, which he caught, and was going to pull off its wings, out of sport, when the animal found means to sting him, and then flew in safety to the hive. The pain put him into a most furious passion, and, like you, he vowed to take a severe revenge. He accordingly procured a little hazel-stick, and thrust it through the hole into the bee-hive, twisting it about therein. By this means he killed several of the little animals; but, in an instant, all the swarm issued out, and, falling upon him, stung him in a thousand different places. You will naturally suppose that he uttered the most piercing cries, and rolled upon the ground in the excess of his agony. His father ran to him, but could not, without the greatest difficulty, put the bees to flight, after having stung him so severely that he was confined several days to his bed.
"Thus you see, he was not very successful in his pursuit of revenge. I would advise you, therefore, to pass over his insult, and leave others to punish him, without your taking any part of it. Besides, he is a wicked boy, and much stronger than you are; so that your ability to obtain revenge may be doubtful."
"I must own," replied Philip, "that your advice seems very good. So come along with me, and I will go and tell my father the whole matter, and I think he will not be angry with me. It is not the cane that I value on any other consideration than that it was my father's present, and I would wish to convince him that I take care of every thing he gives me." He and his friend then went together, and Philip told his father what had happened, who thanked Stephen for the good advice he had given his son, and gave Philip another cane, exactly like the first.
A few days afterwards, Philip saw this ill-natured boy let fall, as he was carrying home, a very heavy log of wood, which he could not get up again. Philip ran to him, and replaced it on his shoulder.
Young Robinson was quite ashamed at the thought of having received this kind of assistance from a youth he had treated so badly, and heartily repented of his behaviour. Philip went home quite satisfied, to think he had assisted one he did not love, and from pure motives of tenderness and humanity. "This," said he, "is the noblest vengeance I could take, in returning good for evil."
Opposite to the house where Charlotte's parents lived, was a little opening, ornamented with a grass-plot, and overshaded by a venerable tree, commanding an extensive view before it. On this delightful spot Charlotte used frequently to sit in her little chair, while employed in knitting stockings for her mamma.
As she was one day thus employed, she saw a poor old man advancing very slowly towards her. His hair was as white as silver, and his back bent with age; he supported himself by a stick, and seemed to walk with great difficulty. "Poor man," said Charlotte, looking at him most tenderly, "he seems to be very much in pain, and perhaps is very poor, which are two dreadful evils!"
She also saw a number of boys, who were following close behind this poor old man. They passed jokes upon his thread-bare coat, which had very long skirts, and short sleeves, contrary to the fashion of those days. His hat, which was quite rusty, did not escape their notice; his cheeks were hollow, and his body thin. These wicked boys no sooner saw him, than they all burst out a laughing. A stone lay in his way, which he did not perceive, and over it he stumbled, and had like to have fallen. This afforded them sport, and they laughed loudly; but it gave great pain to the poor old man, who uttered a deep sigh.
"I once was as young as you are," said he to the boys, "but I did not laugh at the infirmities of age as you do. The day will come in which you will be old yourselves, and every day is bringing you forward to that period. You will then be sensible of the impropriety of your present conduct." Having thus spoken, he endeavoured to hobble on again, and made a second stumble, when, in struggling to save himself from falling, he dropped his cane, and down he fell. On this, the wicked boys renewed their laugh, and highly enjoyed his misfortune.
Charlotte, who had seen every thing that had passed, could not help pitying the old man's situation, and, therefore, putting down her stockings on the chair, ran towards him, picked up the cane, and gave it to him, and then taking hold of his other arm, as if she had been as strong as a woman, advised him to lean upon her, and not mind any thing the boys might say to him.
The poor old man, looking at her very earnestly, "Sweet child," said he, "how good you are! This kindness makes me in a moment forget all the ill-behaviour of those naughty boys. May you ever be happy!"—They then walked on together; but the boys being probably made ashamed of their conduct by the behaviour of Charlotte, followed the old man no farther.
While the boys were turning about, one of them fell down also, and all the rest began laughing, as they had before done at the old man. He was very angry with them on that account, and, as soon as he got up, ran after his companions, pelting them with stones. He instantly became convinced how unjust it was to laugh at the distress of another, and formed a resolution, for the future, never to laugh at any person's pain. He followed the old man he had been laughing at, though at some distance, wishing for an opportunity to do him some favour, by way of atonement for what he had done.
The good old man, in the mean time, by the kind assistance of Charlotte, proceeded with slow, but sure steps. She asked him to stop and rest himself a little, and told him that her house was that before him. "Pray stay," said she, "and sit a little under that large tree. My parents indeed are not at home, and therefore you will not be so well treated, yet it will be a little rest to you."
The old man accepted Charlotte's offer. She brought him out a chair, and then fetched some bread and cheese, and good small beer, which was all the pretty maid could get at. He thanked her very kindly, and then entered into conversation with her.
"I find, my dear," said he, "you have parents, I doubt not but you love them, and they love you. They must be very happy, and may they always continue to be so!"
"And pray, good old man," said Charlotte, "I suppose you have got children."—"I had a son," replied he, "who lived in London, loved me tenderly, and frequently came to see me; but, alas! he is now dead, and I am left disconsolate. His widow, indeed, is rich; but she assumes the character of a lady, and thinks it beneath her to inquire whether I be dead or living, as she does not wish it to be known that her husband's father is a peasant."
Charlotte was much affected, and could hardly believe that such cruel people existed. "Ah! certain I am," said she, "that my dear mother would not behave so cruelly." He then rose and thanked Charlotte with a blessing; but she was determined not to leave him, till she had accompanied him a little way farther.
As they walked on, they saw the little boy who had been following them; for he ran on some way before, and was then sitting on the grass. When they looked upon him, he cast his eyes downwards, got up after they had passed, and followed them again. Charlotte observed him, but said nothing.
She asked the old man if he lived alone; "No, little lady," answered he, "I have a cottage on the other side of that mead, seated in the middle of a little garden, with an orchard and a small field. An old neighbour, whose cottage fell down through age, lives with me, and cultivates my ground. He is an honest man, and I am perfectly easy in his society; but the loss of my son still bears hard upon me, nor have I the happiness to see any of his children, who must by this time have forgotten me."
These complaints touched the heart of Charlotte, who told him, that she and her mother would come and see him. The sensibility and kindness of this little girl served only to aggravate his grief, by bringing to his mind the loss he had sustained in his son. Tears came in his eyes, when he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe them; and, instead of again putting it into his pocket, in the agitation of his mind, it slipped aside, and fell unnoticed by him or Charlotte.
The little boy, who followed them, saw the handkerchief fall, ran to pick it up, and gave it the old man, saying, "Here, good old man, you dropped your handkerchief, and here it is."—"Thank you, heartily, my little friend," said the old man. "Here is a good natured lad, who does not ridicule old age, nor laugh at the afflictions that attend it. You will certainly become an honest man. Come both of you to my habitation, and I will give you some milk." They had no sooner reached the old man's cottage, than he brought out some milk, and the best bread he had, which, though coarse, was good. They all sat down upon the grass, and made a comfortable repast. However, Charlotte began to be afraid her parents might come home, and be uneasy at her absence; and the little boy was sorry to go, but was sadly afraid, should he stay, of being scolded by his mother.
"This mother of yours," said the old man, "must be very cross to scold you."—"She is not always so," replied the boy; "but though she loves me, she makes me fear her."—"And your father?"—"Oh, I scarcely knew him, he having been dead these four years."—"Dead these four years!" interrupted the old man, and fixing his eyes attentively on the boy. "Is it possible that I have some recollection of your features? Can it be little Francis?"—"Yes, yes, Francis is my name."
For a few moments the old man stood motionless, and, with an altered voice, his eyes swimming with tears, cried out, "My dear Francis, you do not recollect your grandfather! Embrace me! you have got the very features of my son! My dearest child, you were not thinking of me! My son affectionately loved me, and his son will love me also. My old age will not be so miserable as I expected, and the evening of my life will not pass without some joy. I shall depart in peace!—But I forget that by detaining you, I may expose you to your mother's anger. Go, my dear child, for I do not wish that my joy should cost you tears. Go, love your mother, and obey her commands, even though you should not come and see me. Come and see me if you can; but do not disobey or tell a story on any account."
He then turned to Charlotte, and said, though he then did not wish her to stay, for fear of offending her parents, yet he hoped she would come again. He then dismissed them, giving them a hearty blessing, and the two children walked away hand in hand. Charlotte got home safe before her parents, who were not long after her, when she told them every thing that had passed, which furnished an agreeable conversation for the evening.
The next day they all went to see the good old man, and afterwards frequently repeated their visits. Francis also came to see his grandfather, who was rejoiced to hear him speak, and to receive his affectionate caresses. Francis, on his side, was equally rejoiced, excepting when he did not meet with Charlotte, for then he went home sorrowful and sad.
The nearer Francis arrived to manhood, the more his affections for Charlotte increased; and accordingly, when he was old enough to marry, he would think of no other woman, though she was not rich. The old man lived to see them married and happy, and then finally closed his eyes in peace.