B
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 Ex Lihris 
 
 SIR MICHAEL SADLER 
 
 ACQUIRED 1948 
 
 WITH THE HELP OF ALUMNI OF THE 
 
 SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
 
 FMOPfTIS JPIECE , 
 
 yr/ ) ///^ /• /f rr.i /irff/yr //y /><■/// r/f -r/ ^/-/j //■//// '/ /■</.lAr/.
 
 tir ''iRfrm. 
 
 Y 
 
 Mi t) 
 
 m^p H'QjrtAifB 
 
 ^ y TT IHl © IB ® F 
 
 Qy^ '^Lp-^t 
 
 u?l^l/7/////ui'/u //y^/r// 
 
 r. O N D O N . 
 
 AKTHITK HALL, TIRTIHE & C? 
 
 25 , TATEHNOSTZIl ROV.
 
 lUCH BOYS AND POOR BOYS, 
 
 A^D oniEli TALES. 
 
 BY MRS. HO FLAN D, 
 
 AUTHOR 
 
 THE clergyman's WIDOW; YOUXli OKUSOE; BLIND KAEMEU ; ELIZA- 
 BETH; BAKBADOES UIRL; AFFECTIONATE BROTIIEItS ; THE SISTERS ; 
 ALICIA AND HER AUNT; GOOD OHANDMOTHER ; YOUNG NORTHERN 
 TRAVELLER; STOLEN BOY; PANORAMA OF EUROPE; MERCHANT'S 
 WIDOW ; WILLIAM AND HIS UNCLE BEN ; DAUGHTER-IN-LAW ; &C. &C. 
 
 ive instiiictioii to a wise son, and be will be yet wiser, teacb 
 just son, and be will increase in learning. Provtrls. 
 
 XftD (IBtittion. 
 
 LONDON: 
 ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE AND CO., 
 
 25, PATEKNOSTEK KUW.
 
 ^/^o 
 
 //F^^ 
 /S^? 
 
 MASTER STEPHEN WILLOUGHBY, 
 
 MASTER FRANJIL ^„\VLEY, 
 
 SONS OF 
 
 PAUL BEILBY THOMSON, ESQUIRE, M.P. 
 
 AND THE 
 
 HON. MRS. BEILBY THOMSON. 
 
 MT DEAE YOUNG GENTLEMEN, 
 
 With t!ic permission of your 
 excellent parents, I dedicate to you the 
 following volume of Stories, in the hope 
 that you will find a little amusement in 
 the perusal of them, and a little instruction 
 
 G23378
 
 IV DEDICATION^ 
 
 from reflecting upon them. Yon are so 
 peculiarly happy in the superior education 
 which you are daily receiving, and the ad- 
 mirable examples given by every branch 
 of your family, that it is certain I can offer 
 you no new lesson either of piety towards 
 Grod, or kindness and charity towards man- 
 kind. 
 
 But as you are still very young, it is 
 not less certain that "line upon line, and 
 precept upon precept," may be read with 
 advantage ; and since the history of boys, 
 as to their situation, feelings, and conduct, 
 must always possess great interest for boys, 
 I flatter myself there will be some of those 
 now offered to your attention whom j^ou 
 can admire, or love, or pit}^ and in the
 
 DEDICATION. V 
 
 exercise of those gentle affections, you will 
 confirm the good dispositions which I know 
 you already possess. 
 
 I am, my dear young gentlemen, 
 
 Your faithful servant 
 
 And affectionate friend, 
 
 BARBARA HOFLAND. 
 
 6, Pembroke Square, 
 Kensington, April 3, 1833.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Dedication . . . . . . . . iii 
 
 Rich Boys and Poor Boys, or the Birth- 
 day Bargain . . . . . . 9 
 
 The Boys of Old Times, or Historical 
 
 Recollections . . . . . . 44 
 
 The Passionate Little Giel, or more 
 
 THAN One in Fault . . . . 60 
 
 William and his Story Books, or the 
 
 Benefits of Experience . 84 
 
 The Best Boy in the World, or the 
 
 Best have room to Mend . . 105 
 
 The Riding-School, or a Cure for Con- 
 ceit .. .. .. .. 130
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS 
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BARGAIN. 
 
 *' You sit your horse uncoaimonly well, 
 Arthur, I must say, and I have no doubt 
 will come in by and by with the best 
 amongst us ; but since this is the first 
 time you have been out with the hounds, 
 I must remind you of the great difference 
 there is between the grounds in Derbyshire 
 and those to which you have been accus- 
 tomed ; a watchful eye and a ready hand 
 are continually wanted here." 
 
 These words were spoken .by Sir Hugh 
 Storndale to a fine lively Harrow boy, 
 who had become his guest only a few days 
 
 B
 
 10 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 before, and who entered, with all the zest 
 natural to his years and his situation, into 
 the pleasure of the first day's hunting he 
 had ever enjoyed. Though he listened 
 with affectionate respect to the caution thus 
 given, yet on casting his eyes around on 
 the wide heathy common they were enter- 
 ing upon, intersected by low stone fences, 
 and dotted by fir copses and patches of 
 brushwood, he did not see any thing to 
 be particularly guarded against, and only 
 hoped the hounds would soon find, in a 
 place where so good a run might be en- 
 joyed. 
 
 The ground in question was full of old 
 coal-pits, many of which had been left in a 
 very unsafe situation, and the sagacious 
 animal on which he rode had just disco- 
 vered that he was stepping into a danger- 
 ous spot of this description, when the loud 
 halloo, he well understood, was heard. 
 Recovering himself by a violent jerk, he 
 plunged forward, and leaped a broken wall
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 11 
 
 (meant to be a guard to tlie pit) before his 
 rider was prepared for the movement ; in 
 an instant lie was thrown forward to a con- 
 siderable distance, and pitched upon one 
 of those rocky projections, to be found ia 
 every part of the wide common by which 
 he was surrounded. 
 
 "My boy, my dear, dear boy!" cried 
 the baronet, in agony, as he flew towards 
 the place where he was thrown, and whither 
 several gentlemen, his friends, also hasten- 
 ed, and immediately dismounting, began 
 eagerly to inquire what could be done? 
 The shock had been so great, that, to the 
 afflicted baronet's apprehension, his young 
 favourite (the son of his earliest friend) 
 was killed upon the spot ; but as the povver 
 of breathing returned, so did life and suf- 
 fering ; and one of the party remounting, 
 set out to the nearest town for a surgeon, 
 recommending the rest to move poor mas- 
 ter Willoughby to the very nearest house. 
 
 " Alas ! there is no house within a 
 
 b2
 
 12 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 mile," said one ; " and the Hall, which is 
 the only place proper for him, is nearly 
 three miles off." 
 
 While this was passing, the unfortunate 
 youth was writhing in agony, yet earnestly 
 entreating that he might not be moved ; 
 he believed that every bone in his body 
 was broken, from the violence of his fall, 
 and the contusions he had received ; and 
 Sir Hugh was certain that his leg at least 
 was fractured, and that in the most terrible 
 manner. 
 
 During the time in which the baronet 
 and his friends hung pitifully over the suf- 
 ferer, two little children had advanced to- 
 wards them, and as speedily retreated ; but 
 they now appeared again, accompanied by 
 their mother, who carried under her arm a 
 coarse woollen counterpane, such as forms 
 the general covering of the poor in that 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 The sight of the woman in some mea- 
 sure relieved the extreme distress of the
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 13 
 
 baronet, for she approached with a rapid, 
 yet noiseless step, and her countenance 
 was full of compassion. She lost not a 
 moment in spreading the counterpane close 
 beside the sufferer, and saying — *' Per- 
 haps your honours would carry poor mas- 
 ter into our house, and lay him on my 
 bed — I be sure he's heartily welcome/' 
 
 "And where is your house, good wo- 
 man ?" 
 
 " Just past that clump o' trees ; but it's 
 very low ; indeed, it's little better nor a 
 barn, but it does for me and mine." 
 
 Poor Arthur, now afflicted with cold, in 
 addition to pain, signified his desire of be- 
 ing thus assisted ; and tlie baronet, with 
 trembhng haste, placed him as well as he 
 was able in the cloth, the woman so sup- 
 porting the broken limb, as to prove not 
 only tenderness, but some degree of skill ; 
 thechihlren preceded them, and in a short 
 time they reached a low thatched cottage, 
 of rather hirgcr dimensions than usual, but 
 
 B 3
 
 14 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 consisting of one room only, save a place 
 above, which was called a loft, and served 
 as a bedchamber for the whole family, ex- 
 cept the mother, whose bed was at one end 
 of the general abiding-room. 
 
 The place was evidently inhabited by a 
 large family, from the number of little 
 three-legged stools it contained, as well as 
 the hasty flight of three or four urchins, 
 who scampered away by a little outlet, evi- 
 dently made for their convenience exclu- 
 sively, since only a child or a pig could 
 have used it. There was, however, no ap- 
 pearance of any such visitant as the latter; 
 on the contrary, an air of great neatness 
 pervaded the place, poor as it was, and the 
 bed had very clean, though very coarse 
 sheets upon it. As they approached it, a 
 pretty girl, about twelve years old, stepped 
 up first, and hastily removed, first one and 
 then another, of twin infants, which she de- 
 posited in a clumsy wooden cradle, at the 
 other end of the cottage.
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 15 
 
 This circumstance was scarcely noticed 
 by the gentlemen, so intent were they on 
 laying the invalid in the easiest position ; 
 but when this difficult task was accom- 
 plished, in the best manner they were able, 
 one of the party, with a look of consider- 
 able alarm, observed to the woman — " You 
 appear to have many children about the 
 place r 
 
 " Yes, indeed, sir, I have plenty of 'em, 
 poor things ; and the two little ones were 
 born only about six weeks since. It is 
 very lucky for poor master that I had not 
 moved my bed back into the loft, for you 
 see, sir, he couldn't possibly have been car- 
 ried up the ladder." 
 
 " True ; but can you go there yourself?" 
 said the gentleman. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir; my husband does not 
 come home to-night, and I can make a 
 shift ; the poor young gentleman is little 
 likely to be moved, I see. Surely you have 
 sent for a doctor ?"
 
 16 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 On hearing this was the case, the good 
 woman lost no time in putting water on the 
 fire, and preparing to foment the broken 
 limb, saying, she knew that was necessary, 
 the swelling was so frightful ; and she add- 
 ed—" Don't be afeard of my childer, sir, 
 for you see I have so many, I am obliged 
 to keep them in order, 'specially as my hus- 
 band is not at home. He works in the 
 coal-pits, and seldom comes here but on 
 Saturdays; so I makes 'em as good as I can, 
 that he may have a quiet time on Sundays ; 
 an' well he deserves it, for a better man 
 never walked on shoe-leather. Pray, sir, 
 don't be flustrated about the poor young 
 gentleman ; I know what a broken limb 
 is, for I nursed my own father through a 
 bad accident like this'n. It will be long 
 before he must move." 
 
 The arrival of the surgeon confirmed 
 this prediction, as the fractured limb was 
 injured in the most terrible manner, and it 
 was a long time before the bone could be
 
 RICH UOYS AND POOR HOYS. 17 
 
 replaced. Arthur was naturally a courage- 
 ous boy ; bis fatber, a brave officer, bad 
 lost bis life in battle, and in praising the 
 beroism of tbis lamented parent, bis motber 
 bad wisely inspired bim witb a perception 
 of tlie virtue of fortitude, in distinction 
 from tbat of enterprise, so tbat be was not 
 deficient in tbe courage of endurance,wbich 
 was now called for. He bore this dreadful 
 trial very bravely, rarely suffering a groan 
 to escape bim ; but Sir Hugh heard some 
 one near bim cry and sob so much, that 
 tbe moment be could withdraw bis eye from 
 tbe patient, he looked round to see who had 
 entered during the operation, but perceived 
 no one. 
 
 " It was my poor Ned, sir, tbat cried 
 so," said Nanny Walton (tbe mistress of 
 tbe bouse) ; " but I motioned bim to go 
 out. He have a very tender heart, poor 
 tiling, and most like he felt more, being, as 
 it were, a lad like himself were suffering ; 
 not but he is special kind to the little ones,
 
 18 RICH BUYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 and so handy j he will wait on poor master 
 here, both hand and foot." 
 
 " 1 wish he would come in/^ said Ar- 
 thur ; " I should like very much to have 
 such a boy about me." 
 
 "You shall have liim, certainly; and 
 proper persons also to attend you," said the 
 baronet, who again looked round the place 
 with great anxiety, shocked with the idea 
 of leaving the dear boy in a situation so 
 utterly devoid of all that might be termed 
 to him the necessaries of life. As, how- 
 ever, the surgeon determined to remain by 
 him for an hour or two. Sir Hugh hastened 
 home, that he might send from his own 
 house whatever could be rendered useful to 
 the patient, and more especially a personal 
 attendant. 
 
 For some days poor Arthur suffered con- 
 tinual pain, which was only relieved by 
 opium, which necessarily kept his head in 
 a state of confusion ; but as his fever sub- 
 sided, he became more awake to the cir-
 
 RICPI BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 19 
 
 cii instances in wliicli he was placed, and to 
 a certain degree interested in the people 
 around him, particularly in the movements 
 of Nanny Walton, and the anxious regards 
 of her son Edward, whom the baronet had 
 desired to remain on the premises, that he 
 might run on errands to the Hall, when- 
 ever the patient required him to do so. 
 
 In the mean time, his attendants had been 
 as various as the inhabitants were nume- 
 rous. The lady's maid, who had been in 
 the first place dispatched by her anxious 
 mistress, had been overdone in a fe\Y hours, 
 for " liow could she exist in such a horrid 
 place, among such wery wulgar crea- 
 tures ?" The housekeeper, who succeeded, 
 complained unceasingly, " that the family 
 would be ruinated by her absence, and as 
 it was certain she should be quite worn out, 
 the sooner she returned the better." The 
 nursery damsel, who followed, like her pro- 
 totype in Miss Edgeworth's story, "won- 
 dered how people could be so ])oor ;" and
 
 20 RICH BO\S AND POOI? EOYS. 
 
 experienced continual alarm, lest " she 
 should carry some sort of distemper to the 
 dear little gentlefolks at the Hall, from the 
 red-faced little brats that kept swarming 
 about." It was in vain that Nanny kept 
 the children quiet, the fire bright, and the 
 hearth clean ; there was no place in which 
 a" decent person" could sit down, although 
 it was certain, both the baronet and his lady 
 spent many a half-hour there in tolerable 
 composure. 
 
 Regular nurses succeeded, but they too 
 rapidly dropped off; no submission could 
 soften their contempt — no attention console 
 their sense of suffering, in such a " mise- 
 rable sort of place ;" neither plentiful re- 
 ward, the promise of future patronage, the 
 solace of dainty viands, and abundance of 
 brandy and green tea, sufficed more than 
 a day or two. Such was the weariness oc- 
 casioned to the invalid by their perpetual 
 complaints, and so sensible was he, that 
 from Nanny and her son alone did he en-
 
 men BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 21 
 
 sure all the help his sad situation admitted, 
 that after three weeks his earnest request 
 was acceded to by his medical attendants, 
 " that he might be left entirely to the care 
 of the cottagers." 
 
 When Nanny Walton, to her great satis- 
 faction, found herself once more mistress 
 of her humble habitation, she really proved 
 a most excellent nurse, for she was a wo- 
 man of sound understanding, and great ob- 
 servation, as well as good disposition, and 
 no little experience. She was the mother 
 of thirteen children beside the twins, and 
 of these seven were constantly in the cot- 
 tage, to whom she now appointed certain 
 offices, which her obedient children accept- 
 ed with avidity, and discharged with punc- 
 tuality. To two girls, of seven and eight 
 years old, were given the care of the babies, 
 whilst their former duties, of feeding the 
 pig, bringing water from the spring, and 
 fetching milk from a distant farm-house, 
 fell on two younger boys, whose junior, 
 
 c
 
 22 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 small as he was, fed the chickens and rock- 
 ed the cradle. A girl turned of twelve was 
 tlie principal servant of the family ; she 
 baked the oat cakes, on which, with pota- 
 toes, and a bit of bacon for mother, the fa- 
 mily principally subsisted : she swept the 
 house, made the beds, washed the bowls 
 and trenchers, extended the same ablution 
 to the faces and hands of all the young 
 ones, and by perpetual activity and cheer- 
 ful industry, well merited her mother's ap- 
 pellative of being her "own bonny bee." 
 
 It was Ned's share of business at this 
 time, to attend to Arthur's wishes, either 
 in reaching what he wanted, adjusting his 
 pillows, gently bathing his bruises with lo- 
 tion, or administering his medicines, during 
 the day-time and at night ; a wisp of dry 
 straw and a blanket constituted his coucli, 
 which was laid close to the invalid's. A 
 long tape, tied to his hand, and held in 
 that of Arthur, was the call upon his ser- 
 vices ; and notwithstanding he was in the
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 23 
 
 habit of sleeping very soundly, never was 
 the check-string pulled in vain. Moved 
 with the deepest compassion for the pain 
 and helplessness of Arthur's pitiable state, 
 accustomed to exercise the tenderest care 
 of his little brothers and sisters, and gifted 
 by nature with mild manners and a soft 
 voice, he became, despite of his uncouth 
 dialect, a pleasant attendant. Kindness 
 and subraissiveness rendered him adroit, 
 gentle, quick, and skilful. 
 
 " 'Tis a great pity such a cleanly quiet 
 boy as you, Ned, should be a coUier : it 
 is all very well for George and Dick, be- 
 cause they work with their father, and seem 
 to like their business ; but you seem to me 
 fitter for a house than a coal-pit." 
 
 " I had rather be any thing else, master 
 Arthur, sure enough, because I hate coal 
 dust, and I love daylight ; but, you know, 
 the Catechism says — ' We must do our 
 duty in that state of life to which it pleases 
 God to call us.' Besides, father says if I 
 
 c2
 
 24 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 work willingly, I shall learn to read and 
 write soon." 
 
 " I will teach you myself," said Arthur, 
 
 eagerly. 
 
 This pursuit could, to a certain degree, 
 be carried on even in the present state of 
 Arthur's convalescence, and it tended 
 greatly to diminish the sense of weariness 
 his long and painful confinement induced, 
 especially amusing him, when the improve- 
 ment of his vigilant and clever pupil proved 
 the advantage of his cares. 
 
 Joseph Walton, the really worthy father 
 of this numerous family, could not read, 
 but he had an excellent memory, and after 
 taking his elder children to church — which 
 was a duty in which he never failed — he 
 would frequently repeat to them and his 
 wife much of the sermon, in order to im- 
 press it more effectually on their minds 
 and his own. His wife, being better edu- 
 cated, and equally well disposed, read the 
 Bible to them all on Sunday evenings, and
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 25 
 
 had so far instructed her daughter, that 
 Betty could get decently through a chap- 
 ter. All the children could answer most 
 of the questions in the Catechism, in which 
 their father examined them on Sunday 
 evenings ; after which, they knelt around 
 him, whilst he offered up the Lord's Prayer, 
 and the General Confession, in which all 
 his family followed the petitions in the 
 most serious and earnest manner. 
 
 Arthur had seen but little of his own fa- 
 ther ; but he had heard so much, that few 
 boys of his age had a better idea of the 
 love and reverence due to that dear rela- 
 tion than he possessed ; therefore the re- 
 spect evinced for their head by this humble 
 family endeared them all to him. Every 
 child in poor Walton's family was taught, 
 from its cradle, to associate love and plea- 
 sure, as well as duty, with the presence of 
 their father ; and they looked to the sea- 
 sons of his weekly return to them as to a 
 kind of gladsouie holiday, in which all
 
 26 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 were to be busied in his service ; and even 
 the hands vrhich could do nothing else, 
 gathered daisies and buttercups, to lay on 
 " daddy's knee." 
 
 Walton was a man of warm affections, 
 and found, from this affectionate and judi- 
 cious conduct on the part of his wife, a 
 sweet return for his unremitting toil, in the 
 love of his family. The pity of his neigh- 
 bours was misplaced, when they condoled 
 with him on the number of his children — 
 for they were his pride, his wealth, his 
 delight. Seeing the pains taken by the 
 stranger with Ned, whom he had always 
 considered the cleverest child he had, he 
 manifested his grateful feelings, by bring- 
 ing Arthur, at every opportunity, choice 
 specimens of spars and fossils, found by 
 himself or fellow-workmen, in the course 
 of their labours ; and so soon as it could 
 be safely done, he would carry him in his 
 arms a short distance for a little air, into 
 the bit of cabbage-ground Nancy called a
 
 RfCH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 27 
 
 garden. His manners were very homely, 
 and some of bis phrases scarcely intelli- 
 gible to Arthur; but his simple goodness 
 of heart, and soundness of understanding, 
 rendered his returns almost of as mwch 
 consequence to him as to the rest of the 
 family. This was more the case the far- 
 ther he advanced in amendment, because 
 he grew the more sensible of his captivity ; 
 besides, the baronet was gone to London, 
 Lady Sterndale could not leave home, on 
 various accounts, and many persons who 
 had shewn him great attention during the 
 beginning of his confinement, had now 
 ceased to render him the object of their 
 cares. 
 
 There were times when Arthur felt this 
 change painfully, since it must be evident, 
 that in time he must grow weary of a scene 
 which could afford nothing to his mind, 
 beyond what it derived from conversing 
 with Ned. At these times he would, how- 
 ever, exert himself manfully ; and whilst
 
 28 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 he devoutly thanked God that he was so 
 far recovered, w^ould rejoice also that his 
 mother had been spared the pain of wit- 
 nessing his sufferings ; and if on mention- 
 ing her name the tears gushed into his 
 eyes, would begin eagerly to expatiate on 
 the future pleasure he should enjoy on his 
 return. At that word Ned would gene- 
 rally sigh profoundly ; and Nanny herself 
 would give over her employment to say — 
 " Well, for sure and sartin, we shall have 
 a great loss of you, Master Willoughby ; 
 little Bob and Sam will miss you sadly, 
 not only because you were always giving 
 them your own good white rolls, and such 
 like, but because you had always a kind 
 word for them, even when you were at the 
 worst. A patient creature, and a good 
 one, I'm sure I shall always say you were ; 
 and I don't doubt you'll live to be a bless- 
 ing to your mother. Little did I think 
 you would live, I promise you ; but I have 
 no fear now ; and I shall never grudge
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR DOYS. 29 
 
 the tears, nor the prayers, you have cost 
 me and mine." 
 
 Arthur was well aware that he had been 
 a source of the greatest trouble to these 
 poor people in the beginning of his illness, 
 and he felt the value of this praise, as it 
 seemed to prove that all the vexations 
 Nanny had borne, through the conduct of 
 his various attendants, was forgotten, in 
 her approbation of his oum conduct. 
 Whatever had been the deficient comforts 
 of his late dwelling, he could not fail to 
 know, that for a considerable period he 
 sliould have experienced the same pain in 
 a palace ; and he felt that in this poor cot- 
 tage he had been so deeply pitied, and 
 even fondly loved, that its inhabitants had 
 a claim upon him beyond what money 
 could repay. They had endured his com- 
 plainings, soothed his sufferings, and con- 
 firmed his virtues. Sincerely did he wish, 
 in after-life, to prove how deeply the sense 
 of their goodness rested on his heart.
 
 30 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 One Sunday morning, whilst the larger 
 part of Walton's family were at church, a 
 messenger from Sir Hugh Sterndale ar- 
 rived, to announce his return to the Hall, 
 and to bring a large cake for the children, 
 because " it was Master Arthur's birthday." 
 
 *' My birthday 1" said Arthur, eagerly. 
 " Ah ! I had forgotten the day of the 
 month. I am thirteen this day. My dear 
 mother will remember it joyfully, and wish 
 me at home ; and my dear grand-papa, 
 Lord Mount-Sorrel, will have a large 
 party. They will all drink my health." 
 
 " And will they have such handsome 
 loaves as this to eat?" said Ned. " I am 
 fourteen to-day myself; but in all my life 
 I never saw such a thing as this till 
 now V 
 
 " Is it your birthday also?" said Ar- 
 thur, in an agitated voice ; " I should like 
 much to give you something that would 
 make you happy. What would you like 
 best?"
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 31 
 
 " I should like, Master Arthur Wil- 
 loughby, to be your own servant, an' wait 
 on you night and day.'^ 
 
 " But, my good fellow, I shall not al- 
 ways be lame, and sick, and want waiting 
 on night and day. Nor am I a man, so I 
 have no power of engaging a servant. Pray 
 think of some other thing." 
 
 ** No, I thank 'ee, sir, I can think of 
 nothing else, for it has run in my head 
 this monny a day." 
 
 The tears which stood in the boy's eyes, 
 and the emotion which checked all further 
 speech, touched Arthur so acutely, that 
 he was unable to reason further on the 
 matter, and he instantly answered — " In 
 two or three years, if I get forward at 
 Harrow, I suppose I shall be a young 
 man, and be permitted to engage a servant 
 of my own, like other people ; in that case, 
 be assured I should prefer you a great deal 
 to any other person in the wide world. 
 Improve yourself, in the mean time, in
 
 32 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 your reading and writing, and keep this 
 pencil-case, as a proof that I have made 
 you this promise ; but for the present say 
 nothing about it ; come, cheer up and cut 
 the cake for the children." 
 
 A happy group were standing around, 
 and more of the family entering from with- 
 out, when Sir Hugh's family coach, in 
 which was his own valet, drew up, and Ar- 
 thur was told, " that it was sent to take 
 him to the Hall, where his mother had ar- 
 rived the night before." This was done as 
 a joyful surprise to him, but his removal 
 had been effected a day sooner than was 
 intended, on account of Mrs. Willoughby's 
 impatience to see her son, and the desire 
 the baronet and his lady felt to save her 
 from the pain of witnessing his residence 
 in the cottage. 
 
 It had been, in their fear of thus add- 
 ing to her trouble, a part of their friendly 
 plan to hide the accident from her know- 
 ledge, until he was nearly well, when Sir
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR HOYS. 33 
 
 Hugh made a journey to London, for the 
 purpose of breaking the affair gently to 
 her, and escorting her back to his own 
 seat. He found her so much hurt by Ar- 
 thur's apparent neglect, and so dissatisfied 
 with the excuses for his silence which she 
 liad received, that the truth, painful as it 
 was, might be termed a relief to her ; no 
 wonder, when she actually found herself 
 near a son so situated, her anxiety to see 
 him could no longer be restrained. 
 
 Not even the delight of this anticipated 
 meeting could render Arthur unmindful 
 of the reiterated good wishes of Nanny 
 and her spouse, or unmoved by the tears 
 of poor Ned, whom he repeatedly told to 
 come to the Hall, and rub his leg as he 
 was wont, in the manner taught by the 
 surgeon. The poor boy struggled against 
 tlie emotion which oppressed him as well 
 as he could, thinking it was wicked to be 
 sorrowful when Arthur was joyous ; but 
 he was unable to conceal his grief 
 
 D
 
 34 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 Being sent for on the morrow, he did 
 indeed venture to the Hall ; but the sight 
 of the " grand ladies," and the magnificent 
 apartment and silken sofa on which Arthur 
 was laid, so bewildered him that he could 
 be said to have little pleasure in the visit ; 
 and the golden guinea which Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby put into his hand, appeared to him 
 so much above the price of his services, 
 that as he held it, he looked reproachfully 
 at Arthur, as if he thought that this was 
 presented in lieu of his fulfilment of his 
 promise; being, however, reassured, though 
 silently, on this point, his spirits rose, and 
 he made an awkward bow and scrape, and 
 said something about " taking it to his 
 mother." 
 
 " No, no, my good boy, that is for your- 
 self; your good mother must and shall be 
 paid in a very different manner. As I 
 find, however, from Sir Hugh, that many 
 things may be given to her more desirable 
 than money, if you know any thing really
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 35 
 
 valuable that she would like, pray name 
 it, and my son shall send it." 
 
 " A cow," burst instantly from Ned's 
 lips ; but remembering how many times 
 his parents had wished for this acquisition, 
 and how hopelessly they had spoken of its 
 attainment, he instantly added — " I mean, 
 if you please, something towards a cow — 
 maybe another pig would do." 
 
 " You shall have both," cried the mother 
 eagerly. 
 
 " But how could you feed a cow ?" ask- 
 ed Lady Sterndale. 
 
 " There are such heaps of childer at our 
 house, some might be gathering grass for 
 it always : we would all of us be good to 
 it, I hope, ma'am." 
 
 "That you would," cried Arthur, " for 
 you are good to every creature about you. 
 — I am heartily glad, dear mamma, you 
 thought of it, for I am sure there will be 
 the happiest of cows, and the happiest of 
 women to milk it, to remember me by at 
 the cottage." d 2
 
 36 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 " My rewards then must be dictated by 
 Sir Hugh, who knows much better tlian I 
 do how to essentially serve these good peo- 
 ple, and will have them in his eye when we 
 are gone." 
 
 The word gone was an afflictive sound to 
 both the boys at this moment, but it soon 
 became much more so to poor Ned, who 
 in a very short time found that Arthur had 
 departed, his mother being anxious to take 
 him by short stages to London, where she 
 apprehended the best surgical assistance 
 for perfecting his recovery could alone be 
 obtained. 
 
 In the course of the following summer 
 Arthur was able to return to Harrow, and 
 as he could not yet join in the athletic ex- 
 ercises of bis companions, he applied him- 
 self, with unusual diligence, to his studies, 
 and soon made up for the time he had lost. 
 Often would he describe his accident, and 
 the curious situation in which he had been 
 placed ; and never did he write to Sir Hugh
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 37 
 
 without kindly remembering Walton's fa- 
 mily, and expressing a deep sense of obli- 
 gation to Nanny ; but in the course of 
 time, new objects and occupations suc- 
 ceeded, his companions became more dear, 
 his acquaintance more extended ; and al- 
 though his mind might frequently revert 
 to the cottage, and his heart be touched 
 by the remembrance of those who inha- 
 bited it, he now rarely spoke of them to 
 those around him. 
 
 Time passed, and Arthur improved so 
 much, that when he returned to keep his 
 sixteenth birthday, at home, his grand- 
 father, Lord Mount-Sorrel, was so well 
 satisfied with his attainnicnts, that he de- 
 termined on entering him at Oxford, and 
 spoke of looking out for a tutor for him. 
 
 " I am satisfied with his conduct," re- 
 plied his mother to this observation ; " but 
 I am sorry to perceive that he retains a 
 good deal of lameness. That unfortunate 
 leg was, I fear, ill managed by the coun-
 
 38 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 try surgeon, and will never be quite 
 well." 
 
 " Indeed, mother, you wrong Mr. Fa- 
 vell, who made a very great cure of a very 
 bad business ; but he told me the stiffness 
 could not be removed without constant 
 friction." 
 
 " Then why have you not been rubbed 
 properly, my dear ?" 
 
 " Because the people about me either 
 did it awkwardly, and gave me pain, or I 
 saw they were tired, and I dismissed them ; 
 so that, some way or other " 
 
 Arthur was interrupted by the entrance 
 of a servant, who said, that " there was a 
 young fellow below, a kind of country 
 hob, who wanted to see Mr. Arthur, and 
 could not be driven away by fair means or 
 foul." 
 
 "Why should he?" said Arthur; "I 
 suppose he has brought me a letter or par- 
 cel from Harrow." 
 
 " Oh no, sir, he's quite away farther in
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 30 
 
 the country than tliat ; but he has a kind 
 of pencil of yours, that he says lie won't 
 give away to nobody." 
 
 " It is Ned, my own poor Ned," cried 
 Arthur, reddening, and hastening down to 
 the hall, whither his grandfather followed 
 hira in silence. 
 
 In another minute the rich boy and tlie 
 poor boy saw each other once more : botli 
 were much altered during the three years 
 in which they had been parted — both im- 
 proved ; but each saw only, at the first, 
 those traits in tlie countenance which tliey 
 could alike recognise with pleasure. Poor 
 Ned was indeed in a pitiable situation ; he 
 had walked the greatest part of tlie way 
 from Derbyshire, had nearly expended his 
 last shilling, and had fully expected to be 
 turned into the streets of London, which 
 he considered to be a misfortune and dis- 
 o-race of the most alarm inp: kind. In this 
 situation, the cheering sound of Arthur's 
 voice at once revived his heart, and insured
 
 40 KICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 the respect of the servants, who were bust- 
 ling around him ; he was indeed warmly 
 welcomed — his evident wants adverted to 
 — the improvement in his appearance 
 praised (for Ned was a handsome lad, and 
 well clothed in a homely fashion), and he 
 was warmly recommended to the care of 
 the housekeeper by Arthur, as " one of 
 his Derbyshire friends." 
 
 "Noa, noa, not friend^ cried Ned, " I 
 am your honner's sarvant, your very lowest 
 sarvant/' 
 
 " Ah ! my good Edward, you remember 
 my promise, and be assured I do likewise ; 
 but I am not yet a man — I have no right 
 to engage you as yet.'" 
 
 " Thank ye, sir, that's quite enough 
 for me ; I can wait for ye seven years, as 
 well as Jacob did ; and the sight of ye 
 looking so brave and tall, pays me right 
 well for my journey. Besides, I really 
 could not live any longer, without thank- 
 ing ye for all the good you have brought
 
 RICH BOYS AND TOOK BOYS. 41 
 
 on US. We live in a slated house with 
 four rooms ; and mother has two cows, a 
 big meadow, and a turnip-field. Sister 
 Betty is come to be nurse-maid to my 
 lady ; and Joe is under-gardener ; and the 
 little twins are handy childer ; and all our 
 luck and our riches is owing to you and 
 Sir Hugh." 
 
 Arthur expressed his sincere pleasure, 
 but could not forbear to smile at this burst 
 of grateful happiness, in a boy usually so 
 silent and timid ; and Ned, blushing ex- 
 cessively, exclaimed — " I humbly beg par- 
 don for saying so much, but my heart 
 was full, and my joy came on me sudden 
 like." 
 
 "Don't apologize, Edward — I know 
 you to be as modest as you are grateful. 
 But it is time you should be eating instead 
 of talking, so good bye, for I have com- 
 pany up stairs. I will sec you early in the 
 morning, and I shall then get my leg i)ro- 
 j}erly rubbed."
 
 ' 42 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 
 
 " You must not, however, leave this 
 young man, to-night," said Lord Mount- 
 Sorrel, advancing, " without receiving and 
 communicating a gratification I am sure 
 you desire. Edward Walton, I engage 
 you from this night as my grandson's ser- 
 vant." 
 
 Ned startled with surprise, not un min- 
 gled with awe, for he instantly compre- 
 hended that the fine-looking old gentleman 
 before him was the nobleman of whom he 
 had heard, and the only lord he had ever 
 beheld. Three times he bowed reverently, 
 if not gracefully ; and at length said, with 
 difficulty — " God reward your worship ! I 
 am set up for ever." 
 
 " Dear, dear sir,** cried Arthur, " I have 
 no words with which to thank you, so 
 deeply am I obliged, and so grateful do I 
 feel for the power of fulfilling an engage- 
 ment improperly made, but yet of great 
 importance to me. We shall soon drill 
 Ned into a good servant, and to me he
 
 RICH BOYS AND POOR BOYS. 43 
 
 will be an invaluable nurse. Never shall 
 I repent my birthday bargain." 
 
 '^ Never, my dear boy, I really believe, 
 if you do not fail in your duties as a master, 
 for Ned has been well educated in the best 
 sense of the word, being humble and docile 
 without servility, and honest without bold- 
 ness ; and building his sense of duty to his 
 master on his higher duties to his God. 
 The conduct of his whole family, under 
 the trial of improving circumstances, is a 
 guarantee for his ; and I hope that you will 
 do credit to yours also, by proving that 
 you know how to guide and protect a fa- 
 vourite dependant, without degradation to 
 yourself, or injurious indulgence to him. 
 The highest and lowest are Hnked together 
 in the great chain of society for mutual 
 benefit, yet are they separate parts, and 
 have separate duties ; remember tliis, and 
 so will real benefit accrue, both to the 
 * Rich Boy and the Poor Boy.' "
 
 THE 
 
 BOYS OF OLD TIMES; 
 
 OE, 
 
 HISTORICAL RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 *' I HAVE read the History of England all 
 through with great attention, mamma," 
 said Francis Clifford, " and I now wish 
 that you would tell me how I am to learn 
 something of the childhood of the remark- 
 able persons mentioned there. I want to 
 know what sort of boys these people were, 
 who afterwards became warriors, and legis- 
 lators, and men of learning." 
 
 " For this purpose," replied Mrs. Clif- 
 ford, " you must read biography, Frank ; 
 but you must not expect many particulars 
 of the early lives of great men, for people 
 
 c
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 45 
 
 were not so diligent in collecting them for- 
 merly as they are now." 
 
 " That is a great pity, for there must 
 have been many things, even in the lives 
 of children, worth relating. When so 
 many battles took place between the Red 
 Rose and the White Rose, and so many 
 heads of houses were slain, the children 
 must have been left in a dreadful situation ; 
 pray, mamma, what became of them ?" 
 
 '* In general, my dear, they were fed 
 at the different convents, of which there 
 were many in our county of York, where, 
 as you must remember, some of the most 
 sanguinary battles were fought. Have you 
 no recollection of boys engaged in these 
 scenes?" 
 
 " I remember that Prince Lionel, when 
 only twelve years old, accompanied his 
 mother, and fought against the Scots on 
 the borders of the county, and that a great 
 victory was gained. I dare say the young 
 Prince fought bravely, mamma, because
 
 46 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 his father was a great warrior, and his bro- 
 ther, the Black Prince, loved fighting so 
 well, that he took up the cause of Peter 
 the Cruel in Spain. Now I think I should 
 like to go into a battle myself, but then it 
 should be for my king and my country, 
 mamma, not for a bad man, and in a bad 
 cause." 
 
 " You are quite right in your distinc- 
 tions, Frank ; but have you no remem- 
 brance of unfortunate fighting, in which a 
 boy of the same age was concerned ?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! after the battle of Sandal, 
 Edmund, Earl of Rutland, the Duke of 
 York's youngest son, was killed in cold 
 blood, by Lord Clifford. I can repeat some 
 lines, written, my uncle says, by a poet 
 called Drayton, which are exactly true : — 
 
 •* Where York himself, before his castle gate, 
 Mangled \\'ith wounds, on his own earth lay dead, 
 
 Upon his body Clifford down him sate, 
 Stabbing the corpse, and cutting off his head, 
 
 Crown'd it with paper, and to wreake his teen. 
 
 Presents it so to his victorious Queene.
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 47 
 
 ** The Earle of Rutland, the Duke's youngest son, 
 Then in his childhood, and of tender age, 
 
 Coming in hopes to see the battaile won, 
 Clifford, whose wrath no rigour could assuage, 
 
 Takes, and whilst there he doth for mercy kneel, 
 
 In his soft bosom sheathes his sharpen'd steel." 
 
 " Dear mamma," added Frank, after 
 musing- a few moments, " I hope this cruel 
 Lord Clifford was no relation of ours ? he 
 was a wicked man." 
 
 " He w^as so in this instance, certainly ; 
 for although the Duke of York had killed 
 his father with his own hand, and he owed 
 much to the House of Lancaster, his con- 
 duct to poor little Rutland admits of no 
 apology. He was a hot-headed young man, 
 and hoth parties were so ferocious, that he 
 probably considered it a merit to outstep 
 his opponents in brutality." 
 
 " Well, I am glad he was himself soon 
 after killed at the battle of Towton by an 
 arrow — it kept him from murdering more 
 boys perhaps. Papa shewed me the little 
 river Coc, which runs into the Wharfe, on 
 
 E 2
 
 48 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 tLe banks of which the bodies of the slain 
 were so heaped up, that they fell in, and 
 formed a kind of bridge ; and the whole 
 stream, though swollen by heavy rains, ran 
 purple with their blood. Clifford was 
 killed early in the day." 
 
 *' Early also in another sense, my dear ; 
 for although only twenty-six years old, he 
 left a widow and two sons, the elder of 
 whom was in his seventh year ; and as I 
 know of no boy whose memoirs are more 
 interesting, I will tell you all I have been 
 able to collect respecting him.'*' 
 
 Francis, with a smile of grateful atten- 
 tion, drew his chair nearer to the sofa 
 where his mother sat, and she continued : 
 
 " You are aware that after the battle of 
 Towton, the House of York gained the 
 complete ascendancy ; and being altogether 
 as blood-thirsty as Clifford himself, their 
 first inquiry, after his death was ascertain- 
 ed, was for the residence of his innocent 
 offspring. Their poor mother, shocked as
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 49 
 
 she must be by the fate of her husband 
 (who in private life was as amiable and 
 affectionate as he was furious and barba- 
 rous in battle), lost not an hour in con- 
 veying the boys to the sea side, intending to 
 send them for safety to the Low Countries. 
 Being closely watched, she was enabled 
 only to effect the present safety of Richard, 
 the younger; and this little exile dying 
 soon after his arrival in Holland, she de- 
 termined on secreting the eldest in her own 
 neighbourhood of Londesbury. Here he 
 lived in the cottage of her herdsman, pass- 
 ing for the son of a married servant, it 
 being given out that he had died abroad 
 at the same time with his brother; and the 
 deep retirement in which his widowed mo- 
 ther lived, favoured the supposition that 
 she had lost all she held dear. 
 
 " In this situation, he was inured to the 
 humblest occupations, and neither taught 
 to read nor write ; for as sucli accomplish- 
 ments were at that tinie never given to tlie 
 
 E 3
 
 50 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 poor, liis mother durst not risk discovery 
 by procuring teachers for him. It was 
 found that success and prosperity by no 
 means soothed the revengeful spirit of 
 Edward the Fourth, since liis accession to 
 the throne ; and as his partisans in this 
 county continued their system of espial on 
 poor Lady CHtFord, the life of her unhappy 
 boy could only be preserved by submitting 
 to all the hardships attendant on a state of 
 poverty. It was the more necessary to 
 keep a continual guard upon him, because 
 he grew up a tall, handsome youth, of a 
 commanding mien, and the features of his 
 grandfather, who was well remembered, 
 and deeply regretted, by all the country 
 round. 
 
 "I leave you to judge, my dear Frank, 
 to what daily trials this innocent boy was 
 subject — how hard it was to be living in 
 absolute want, whilst lord of the soil over 
 which he was wandering ; and when, from 
 habit, he had learnt to feed on poor and
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 51 
 
 scanty food, to wear coarse clothing, and 
 sleep on straw in a cold cottage, still the 
 craving of his heart must be unsatisfied. 
 He must want his mother — his dear and 
 only parent ; for her his aching breast was 
 continually yearning ; and well did he know 
 how severely she suffered in her sympa- 
 thies for his privations, how solicitous for 
 his society, how anxious for his safety. If 
 she crossed his path with a companion or 
 attendant, and her rank at that time ren- 
 dered them indispensable, her eyes must 
 be averted from him ; nor could he dare to 
 cast a glance at her, lest he should betray 
 their awful secret, and bring that destruc- 
 tion on his own head which would have 
 broken his mother's heart. 
 
 " Undoubtedly there were times when 
 she contrived to see him for a few minutes, 
 to supply his wants, so far as it was prudent, 
 and to give him those wise counsels, it is 
 to this day his honour that he obeyed so 
 well. He had a good understanding, was
 
 52 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 of gentle manners and benevolent disposi- 
 tion ; and although he inherited the spirit 
 and courage of his distinguished ancestors, 
 his good sense and filial affection restrained 
 that temper, which might have plunged 
 him into irremediable ruin. He practised 
 that quiet fortitude, which is most difficult 
 to a young and ardent mind ; but, in spite 
 of all his caution, when he was in his thir- 
 teenth year, reports of his being alive were 
 circulated, and his mother became in a 
 state of perpetual alarm, lest the woods of 
 Londesbury should prove no longer a place 
 of safety for their banished lord. 
 
 " At this period, happily for him, his 
 mother formed a second marriage, and in 
 Sir Lancelot Threlkeld he obtained an ex- 
 cellent father-in-law, who left no means un- 
 tried to ensure his safety. This gentleman 
 had extensive manors in Cumberland, and 
 to this place the young lord was conveyed 
 by his shepherds, across the tract of moun- 
 tains which connects the two counties.
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES, 53 
 
 From that time he associated constantly 
 with these persons, and thereby obtained 
 the name of the * Shepherd Earl/ by 
 which he is frequently recognised in old 
 writings." 
 
 " But, mamma,** cried Frank, with much 
 emotion, " though he might be safe in 
 Cumberland, he could not be happy, for 
 he had lost his only comfort ; he could not 
 get a little, little peep at his mother, and 
 remember that she loas his mother. He 
 could not creep into a corner of the church 
 where she was kneeling, and pray to the 
 same God at the same time. Oh ! I am 
 very sorry for him, now he has not a single 
 friend to look at him." 
 
 " You are mistaken, my dear— Sir Lance- 
 lot was a man in great esteem, and he 
 could go to his estates in the north, and 
 take his lady with him ; and in that thinly- 
 inhabited country, they could and did meet 
 him without suspicion. By the assistance 
 of their kindness and information, he sup-
 
 54 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 ported his hopes, fortified his mindj and 
 by his acquaintance with persons of piety 
 and good sense, attained considerable 
 knowledge of natural history. He lived 
 among a simple but sensible people, in the 
 midst of beautiful and magnificent scenery, 
 which he was never weary of exploring, 
 and being truly devout, found his life pass 
 calmly in the adoration of his Maker, and 
 admiration of his works." 
 
 " And so really remained there till he 
 was a man?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, in this state of proscrip- 
 tion Lord Clifford lived for twenty-five 
 years, as he was thirty-two years of age 
 when, by the death of the tyrant, Richard 
 the Third, he was delivered from his last 
 enemy, and enabled to reclaim his pro- 
 perty, and assume his title. He appeared 
 at the court of Henry the Seventh, on the 
 first meeting of Parliament, and was fully 
 restored to his baronies, lands, and castles. 
 A sense of his deficient education (for he
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 55 
 
 now first learnt to write his name) rendered 
 him at this eventful epoch extremely timid ; 
 but when that subsided^ his conversation 
 displayed the soundness of his understand- 
 ing, the simplicity, rectitude, and piety of 
 his heart. He had even, under the sha- 
 dows of his past fate, married a lovely and 
 virtuous wife, the daughter of Sir John 
 St. John ; and after visiting with her his 
 noble castles of Brougham and Skipton, 
 with Londesbury, the place of his birth, 
 and the scene of his early troubles, he 
 chose Bardon Tower, in the woods of Bol- 
 ton, for his general residence. Here he 
 eagerly pursued the means of knowledge, 
 so long denied to him, and here he dis- 
 pensed a noble fortune, with equal pru- 
 dence and munificence. He did not there- 
 fore forsake his public duties, for in the next 
 reign we find him a principal commander 
 in the battle of Flodden-field, which was 
 so fatal to Scotland. He lived happy and 
 beloved, and died in old age, lamented and
 
 66 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 honoured ; and his sons proved, in after 
 life, how well he had instructed them. His 
 eldest was created Earl of Cumberland, his 
 grandson was a great naval commander in 
 Elizabeth's time, and contributed princi- 
 pally to the destruction of the Armada." 
 
 " I have no objection now, mamma, to 
 think myself one of the Clifford family." 
 
 " Probably not, my dear ; but I cannot 
 flatter you on that point, for the last-named 
 nobleman left only one daughter, to whom 
 his property (now immensely augmented) 
 devolved. This lady, Anne, Countess of 
 Pembroke, being a widow, resided con- 
 stantly at one or other of her noble man- 
 sions, all of which she rebuilt or beautified ; 
 and by spending her princely income upon 
 her tenantry, became a blessing to an im- 
 mense number of persons At her death, 
 Brougham and Skipton Castles descended 
 to the Earls of Thanet; Hardwicke, Lon- 
 desbury, Bolton, and Bardon, to the Dukes 
 of Devonshire, Charlotte, the last heiress
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 57 
 
 of the Cliffords, marrying the great-grand- 
 father of the present Duke." 
 
 '* I am much obliged to you, dear mam- 
 ma, for telling me about this poor boy, 
 for he was poor once, though I dare say 
 he never forgot that he was a nobleman by 
 birth, and that the feelings of a gentleman 
 were proper for him. I wish I had known 
 him ; I should have liked to go into the 
 woods to get a good game at trap-ball with 
 him, to carry him some fruit and biscuits, 
 or teach him to read in some close dell, 
 where no creature in the world could see 
 us. I would not have been careless, and 
 exposed him, nor I would not have be- 
 trayed him, no, not for Edward's crown, 
 mamma !" 
 
 " I am sure you would not, my dear 
 boy ; since, however, all his troubles ended 
 happily, there is no occasion for them to 
 affect either you or me too much." 
 
 " Very true, mamma," said Frank, shak- 
 ing his head to get rid of his tears ; " but 
 
 F
 
 58 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 I shall think of hiin many a time, when 
 I am riding about on the banks of the 
 Wharfe. I always like to know something 
 of remarkable persons ; it makes the places 
 where they lived much more valuable in 
 my sight. When papa took me to see 
 Harewood House, the best of all the grand 
 things there was the monument of Judge 
 Gascoigne, who reproved the Prince of 
 Wales, afterwards Henry the Fifth ; and 
 when I went with you to Escrick Park, 
 beautiful as every thing was, my head 
 was continually running on Baron Es- 
 crick." 
 
 " And pray, my little curious boy, who 
 was he ?" 
 
 " He was Sir Thomas Prime, gentleman 
 of the bedchamber to King James the 
 First, the very person who was entrusted 
 to search the vaults under the ParHament 
 house, at the time of the Gunpowder Plot, 
 and there he discovered thirty-six barrels 
 of gunpowder, and the person who was to
 
 THE BOYS OF OLD TIMES. 59 
 
 have fired the trahi ; and when we got to 
 
 York, mamma " 
 
 " Ah, my dear, there we had indeed 
 much to see and much to think of; but 
 for the present our recollections must con- 
 clude with this observation — never forget 
 that w^hilst it is both pleasant and instruc- 
 tive to look back upon old times, that it is 
 our special duty to be thankful that we 
 live in times that are much better, notwith- 
 standing we are subject to many cares and 
 troubles now. The times of civil warfare, 
 caused by rival des])ots, will, I trust, never 
 again return ; still less is it hkely that the 
 amiable heiress of the crown should box 
 the ears of a judge, or a faction be formed 
 to blow up a popular king and his parlia- 
 ment; so the new times must be better 
 than the old times."
 
 THE 
 
 PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL; 
 
 MORE THAN ONE IN FAULT. 
 
 "What a passion Sophy will be in!'* — 
 "Ob, how very angry Sophy will be!" — 
 " What a little fury she will make of her- 
 self!" These words broke simultaneously 
 from the lips of two brothers and a sister 
 of the girl in question, at the moment 
 when, in consequence of a removal of 
 books between their father and the foot- 
 man, a china flower-vase, which was her 
 property, fell down, and was broken to 
 pieces, 
 
 Mr. Daventree (their father) started in 
 painful surprise, excited much less from
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 61 
 
 an accident which might soon be repaired, 
 than grief at hearing of the fault of Sophia. 
 When an infant, he knew she was of a 
 violent temper, though otherwise of a good 
 disposition ; but as she was now eleven 
 years old, and had been for some time un- 
 der the care of Miss Harcourt, who was 
 an excellent governess, he had naturally 
 hoped that the error in question was cor- 
 rected, since he had not witnessed it him- 
 self; these unpremeditated exclamations 
 told him that he was mistaken, and gave 
 him a sense of pain and alarm, to which 
 he had been long a stranger. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by the 
 observations of Emily, his eldest daughter, 
 a gentle girl, of very sound understanding, 
 who was at this time busily employed in 
 gathering the flowers which had fallen from 
 the broken vase. — " Poor Sophia !" said 
 she ; " surely no one can wonder if she 
 should be a little fluttered and angry : she 
 has been carefully preserving all her roses 
 
 f3
 
 62 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 and wall-flowers for weeks, to make an 
 October bouquet for mamma, on her return 
 from Harrogate ; and this beautiful vase 
 was given to her by her godmother, as a 
 rev/ard for her knowledge of flowers ; and 
 now, on the very evening when she has 
 gathered her last bouquet, and arranged 
 them so prettily, it is hard that her pride 
 and pleasure should be dashed to the 
 ground, as it were ; I am really sorry for 
 her !" 
 
 " And so am I, sincerely sorry," said 
 Miss Harcourt. 
 
 " I must watch the progress of this af- 
 fair closely," said Mr. Daventree, to him- 
 self; "it appears singular that apology- 
 should be offered for so great a fault, by 
 those on w4iose judgment there is most re- 
 liance." 
 
 Just then Sophia entered, and it was 
 observed by her mamma, that her cheek 
 was flushed, and her eyes full of tears. — 
 *' Could she have heard of the accident?'^
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 63 
 
 It appeared not ; for she started on seeing 
 the fragments, and exclaimed — " Is my 
 beautiful vase broken ?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear," said Emily, with a 
 sympathetic sigh. 
 
 Mr. Daventree at this moment perceived 
 that his two sons, one of whom was a year 
 older, and the other a year younger than 
 Sophia, and their sister Ellen, a child of 
 seven years old, gazed on her with looks of 
 high expectation, as if some kind of scene 
 was about to take place, in which there 
 would be more to amuse than to wound 
 them. 
 
 To the evident surprise and disappoint- 
 ment of the party, Sophia turned from the 
 fragments of the vase, and, in a voice 
 which indicated deep feeling, addressed her 
 father — " Dear papa, just now I saw poor 
 Sally Morton go past the park fence, cry- 
 ing bitterly, sometimes stopping suddenly, 
 and then running, as if she were almost 
 wild ; so I said — ' AA^hat is the matter,
 
 64 THE PASSIONATE LTTTLE GIRL. 
 
 Sally?' and she said— ' Oh, Miss Sophy, 
 I am out of my senses ; they tell me the 
 market-boat was overset this morning in 
 the gale, and my poor son, my own good 
 
 Thomas -' She could not say another 
 
 word, so I went round to her, and led her 
 to the housekeeper's room. Papa, what 
 can be done to comfort her ?" 
 
 " Indeed, child, if her excellent son be 
 lost, I know not what can be done ; for he 
 has long been every thing to her ; but the 
 boat might be lost, and Thomas escape ; I 
 know he could swim." 
 
 " Yes, the butler said so ; and Mrs. 
 Jones tried to make out what she had really 
 heard ; but we could not understand her, 
 she cried so much ; but she said she would 
 try to master herself, and tell his honour." 
 
 " Poor creature ! poor creature !" said 
 Mr. Daventree, much affected. . " I will 
 go to her this moment." 
 
 Mrs. Daventree was gone already ; and 
 Sophia, who was deeply interested, flew
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 65 
 
 after him ; but Miss Harcourt begged the 
 rest would remain, observing — " That it 
 would be cruelty, rather than kindness, to 
 press around the poor woman in her first 
 agonies ; the time would shortly come in 
 which they could show how sincerely they 
 pitied her." 
 
 Every one obeyed, for their young hearts 
 were sincerely penetrated with sorrow for 
 the loss of Thomas Morton, whom they 
 had known all their lives ; and they grieved 
 for his widowed mother, whom he had 
 supported by his industry, and rendered 
 happy by his kindness. Each had some- 
 thing to say on the sad occasion ; but their 
 remarks were suddenly checked by a loud 
 scream from the housekeeper's room, fol- 
 lowed by a kind of shout. Curiosity over- 
 came every other feeling, and the whole 
 party ran directly to the place where it 
 could be gratified. 
 
 It appeared, that while poor Sally Mor- 
 ton had been struggling with herself, so as
 
 66 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 to relate iatelligibly the story of her son's 
 disaster, as conveyed by a neighbour, the 
 trampHng of horses' hoofs had been heard, 
 and in another moment a groom had sud- 
 denly entered the housekeeper's room, fol- 
 lowed by young Morton himself, whose 
 pale face and drenched clothes presented 
 such a ghastly spectacle, that the moment 
 his mother saw him she uttered a loud 
 scream, and sunk senseless. When the 
 children entered, the poor fellow was hold- 
 ing her in his arms, and calling her most 
 piteously to speak to him ; whilst the house- 
 keeper and Mrs. Daventree were taking 
 more effectual means to restore her. 
 
 *' Indeed, sir, I did all for the best/' 
 said the groom ; ** I met poor Thomas, 
 more dead than alive, being, as he was, 
 half drowned, your honour, and so, as I 
 was airing the horses, I told him to ride 
 the bay mare ; and when we got here, I 
 brought him (though he was very loth to 
 stop, for fear his mother should hear before
 
 THE TASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 67 
 
 she saw him) to Mrs. Jones's room, for a 
 bit of bread and a drop of cordial, little 
 thinking to frighten his poor mother to 
 death, as it were." 
 
 " You did very right, in every respect, 
 James, and all will soon be well." In fact, 
 the poor woman gave signs of life, and 
 Mr. Daventree raised her head in such a 
 manner that she could not again see her 
 son, in order that he might inform her, by 
 degrees, that he was restored to her. 
 
 " I have given your honour and ma- 
 dam a deal of trouble, but I shall not be 
 here long; I have seen my son — I am sure 
 I have, and it is a sign I shall soon follow 
 him." 
 
 " My good woman, don't talk foolishly. 
 You have seen your good son, but it was 
 in life, not death : it has pleased God to 
 save him, and send him home safe and 
 sound." 
 
 " Home ! then please to leave hold of 
 me, I am quite well ; I can walk as well 
 as ever I did ; don't hold me — don't."
 
 68 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 " Mother, dear mother, it is my arms 
 that hold you," cried Thomas, bursting 
 into tears. 
 
 ^^ Thine ! tliine ! my own ! my lost " 
 
 cried the poor woman, in an ecstacy that 
 might have endangered her senses, but for 
 the controlling presence of the heads of 
 the family. There was not a dry eye in 
 the place ; but no one was so much affected 
 as Sophia, who, in her agitation, danced, 
 cried, and almost screamed, with alternate 
 joy and pity ; and it was not till the mother 
 and son were turned over to the house- 
 keeper, and the whole party had returned 
 to the breakfast- parlour, that she regained 
 any thing like composure. 
 
 In order to give her mind time to re- 
 cover its powers, Mr. Daventree desired 
 that no one would speak to her, and she 
 had been sitting some time in silence, 
 whilst the rest of the young ones were 
 arranging their amusements after tea, when 
 all at once, as if her recollection had re-
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 69 
 
 turned, Sophia started up, and said, in a 
 severe tone — " 1 should be glad to know 
 who it was that broke my china vase, and 
 scattered all my flowers, that I had saved 
 for my mamma, though they knew very 
 well that it was a present from Lady Lang- 
 dale — I say, who was it that did it?" 
 
 "Why," said Ellen, laughingly, "it 
 was done between two people." 
 
 '^ And you, Miss Pert,were one of them." 
 
 " No, that she was not," said her younger 
 brother ; " Ellen had nothing to do with 
 it ; but you like to accuse every body when 
 you are in your airs." 
 
 '* Tlien who did do it, Master William ? 
 Was it yourself?" 
 
 "No, Miss Sophia," said Edward, "he 
 did not do it ; you are as far from being 
 right as ever." 
 
 "Then you did it, sir; I knew you did, 
 by your taunting tone: you take yourself 
 tto be a man, and so you despise flowers 
 and china, and every thing that girls are 
 
 G
 
 70 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 fond of. But I say, Master Ned, that it 
 was a cruel thing, and a shameful thing, 
 to break my vase, and ruin my poor 
 flowers, and a ivlcked good-for-nothing 
 thing''' 
 
 Sophia's voice at this moment was raised 
 to its utmost pitch ; her cheeks glowed like 
 crimson ; and her hand was raised, as if 
 she were about to strike her brother ; but 
 the moment Emily spoke she was silent. 
 
 " Dear Sophy, the vase was broken by 
 accident; but I have preserved the flow- 
 ers. I assure you we are all very sorry 
 for your misfortune, which was entirely 
 caused by accident.'' 
 
 "But I don't like accidents and misfor- 
 tunes, Emily ; and I cannot see any rea- 
 son why I should have more of them than 
 other people, and I am quite sure I have. 
 It is not three days since I was so vexed 
 about ray work-box being spoiled, and only 
 a fortnight since my French grammar was 
 torn. I have no notion of submitting to
 
 THE PASSIONxYTE LITTLE GIRL. 71 
 
 SO many injuries, and if I knew how to pun- 
 ish the person who did break the vase, I 
 would do it effectually — that I would." 
 
 Mr. Daventree, who had retired from the 
 group, but carefully listened to every word, 
 and scanned every look, now came forward, 
 and approaching Sophia, said — " Benja- 
 min, the footman, was perhaps of the two 
 the more blameable party in this unfortu- 
 nate and really vexatious affair. You 
 know, Sophia, that I am a justice of the 
 peace, and in that capacity I can further 
 your wishes for his punishment. I am also 
 his master, and can stop his wages, until he 
 has paid the value of the vase, or at least 
 his share of it ; in which capacity would 
 you wish him to suffer ?" 
 
 The calm gravity of Mr. Daventree in 
 some degree restored the self-possession of 
 his daughter ; she was silent for a consider- 
 able time, and then said — " I hope, papa, 
 1 am incapable of oppressing a servant in 
 any case, but especially where, from their 
 
 g2
 
 72 THE PASSIONxVTE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 clumsiness or ignorance, tbey might com- 
 mit an error. I will not punish Benjamin, 
 for it is not likely he would try to injure 
 my vase." 
 
 " Benjamin's partner in this unlucky af- 
 fair you have already punished severely — 
 it was your father, Sophia." 
 
 Sophia gazed in her father's face in asto- 
 nishment. 
 
 " I was indeed that guilty and unfortu- 
 nate person, and I can truly say, that I am 
 very sorry for the accident, because I can 
 fully estimate the disappointment your 
 kind cares and warm affections have re- 
 ceived ; but I think you will own that my 
 punishment exceeds my offence, when I say 
 that the fault you have exhibited has given 
 a wound to my feelings, as a father, not 
 easy to be endured." 
 
 Mr. Daventree sat down with the air of 
 a person oppressed and afflicted ; but he 
 almost immediately began to speak again ; 
 whilst Sophia, with blushing cheeks and
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 73 
 
 panting bosom, stood like a conscious cri- 
 minal before him. 
 
 " Surely it is very painful for a father, 
 who fondly loves his children, to whom the 
 development of their minds, or the forma- 
 tion of their principles and affections, is of 
 the highest importance, to witness such an 
 ebullition of temper as I have done. It 
 shocked me the more, because I was really 
 enjoying the proofs of sensibility, consider- 
 ation and humanity, you had just display- 
 ed ; and I could not expect to see in a girl 
 capable of better things, such degrading 
 abandonment to ungovernable passion — no 
 self-control exerted — no obedience to 
 God's word — no recollection of a father's 
 authority — no sympathy in a mother's 
 feelings." 
 
 " Dear, dear papa !" cried Sophia, cast- 
 ing herself on her knees before him, " I 
 have been very wicked to grieve you. Oh, 
 I am so sorry — my heart — yes, my heart 
 will— will ''
 
 7i THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIJIL. 
 
 She would have said " break," but her 
 anguish almost suffocated her; and as she 
 laid her head on her father's knees, and 
 wept in very agony, bitterly did that ten- 
 der father grieve that he should be com- 
 pelled to afflict her. 
 
 When he perceived that this violent 
 emotion had somewhat subsided, he raised 
 her up, and said — ^' Sophia, before I name 
 any punishment for past faults, I wish to 
 guard you from future ones. You have 
 confessed that you are subject to these pas- 
 sions — have you never examined the rise 
 and progress of them in your own heart ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, papa, I know it is, as Emily 
 says, all owing to my being in so great a 
 hurry. I see something that vexes me — 
 then I think I am injured, and I become 
 affronted, and I grow heated and fluttered, 
 and that increases till I become downright 
 enraged, and then I say all kinds of things." 
 
 " And wish to do all kinds of thino-s ? — 
 even to commit murder?"
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 75 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no ! I would not hurt any 
 of them — nor even break their playthings, 
 not even when I am at the worst. Miss 
 
 Harcourt knows I would not ; and she 
 
 Oh, papa, what trouble have I given to 
 her !" 
 
 " Indeed, Sophia, I forgive you," said 
 Miss Harcourt; " and it is only justice to 
 say, that when your silly pets are over^ no 
 one can be more anxious to evince affection 
 than you are ; and I still hope you will be 
 able to conquer this blameable weakness." 
 
 " If I could but learn how to conquer 
 it — if I could but keep it down when it 
 comes into my throat — or if I could do 
 without speaking, perhaps it would go off!" 
 Sophia looked earnestly towards her father, 
 as if imploring his assistance. 
 
 " My dear child, as you have got rid of 
 all these symptoms three times in one 
 evening, surely you need not despair. That 
 which we have done once.we can certainly 
 do again ; and we have this great motive for
 
 76 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 exertion added to others, that with every 
 effort the passion will grow weaker, the 
 reason stronger." 
 
 " Yes, if I could once conquer, I might 
 go on conquering, till I was as good as 
 Emily herself — my dear sister Emily, who 
 always pities me." 
 
 " Well, Sophia, I repeat it, you have 
 done so to-night. When you first came 
 in, and saw what had happened (which was, 
 I grant, a very provoking circumstance), 
 how was it that you did not fly into a vio- 
 lent rasre?" 
 
 " Oh, papa, how could I think of a china 
 jar, when my whole heart was full of a 
 fellow-creature's sorrows ? when I believed 
 that poor Thomas Morton was drowned, 
 that was no time to lament flowers." 
 
 " True, my child, a sense of the frailty 
 of life, of the awful responsibility of mor- 
 tality, was on your mind, together with 
 deep and absorbing compassion, and you 
 lost all selfish feelings. Now reason and
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 77 
 
 religion tell you, my dear, that you are al- 
 ways in the presence of God, and therefore 
 bound alike at all times to control your 
 wrong' propensities. In the second instance, 
 you checked yourself, when I invited you 
 to punish Benjamin, a proof tliat your na- 
 ture was in itself noble and generous, 
 though debased, and that you did possess 
 a power of self-command. And, thirdly, it 
 is certain all anger vanished from your 
 breast, when you found that your father 
 had been the cause of its arising. Now 
 cannot you contrive to recal similar mo- 
 tives for repelling the temptation to trans- 
 gress, the next time you are subject to it?" 
 " I think so — I hope so ; but, indeed, 
 papa, I am sadly afraid of myself, when I 
 remember what a many, many times I 
 have erred ; then I know, if I am laughed 
 at, the fit comes on such a great deal 
 
 Leave us, Sophia, for a quarter of an 
 hour, in which time try, my dear, to me-
 
 /8 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 ditate on this subject, and to look for help 
 to that heavenly Father, who will not re- 
 ject the weakest penitent." 
 
 Sophia left the room, calm, but still 
 weeping, and for some time all remained 
 silent. 
 
 At length Mr. Daventree said—" Poor 
 girl ! she is exceedingly to be pitied, inas- 
 much as the error in her temper is^ in a 
 great degree, constitutional. It can, and 
 I trust will, be cured ; but in order to pro- 
 duce that good effect, the efforts of all who 
 desire to merit my approbation must com- 
 bine. You, Emily, have, it appears, done 
 your duty as a good sister, and will, I trust, 
 continue to bear with her, and to check in 
 kindness the first stirrings of her temper. 
 Above all things, guard yourself from 
 making her an object of ridicule ; let her 
 weakness be held in your eyes as a mis- 
 fortune, on which it would be cruel to jest, 
 and one which it would ill become one of 
 her own family to expose, or to call into 
 action."
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 79 
 
 Whilst Mr. Daventree spoke, the two 
 boys fidgetted in their chairs, as if they 
 were extremely uneasy ; and even little 
 Ellen blushed excessively ; and at length, 
 sidling up to her papa, said, in an exculpa- 
 tory tone — " I am sure I love Sophia very 
 much — and I believe she loves me dearly; 
 she made my doll a new bonnet yesterday." 
 
 " She is always doing some good-natured 
 thing for everybody!" exclaimed William ; 
 " and I'm sure," he added, in a voice some- 
 what impeded by the rising in his throat, 
 " yes, I am quite sure, that other people 
 might make confessions as well as poor 
 Soph." 
 
 "Why, I know," said Edward, " I bave 
 teased her into many a passion, and I am 
 sorry for it now." 
 
 '* So have I," resumed William ; " which 
 was the worse, because I was older than 
 her, and ought to have known better." 
 
 *' But I was quite old enough to know I 
 did wrong."
 
 80 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 " So was I," said Ellen ; " but I did it 
 because — because it made us all laugh." 
 
 " You have all^been cruel children," said 
 Mr. Daventree. " You have practised the 
 means of irritation upon one whom you all 
 acknowledge to be kind, generous, and af- 
 fectionate, except at these particular times, 
 when she was subject to a species of insa- 
 nity, which demanded your pity and as- 
 sistance. However, I am willing to con- 
 sider your past faults as those of children, 
 if for the future you make an entire altera- 
 tion in youjr conduct, and become hence- 
 forward as much the friends, as you have 
 hitherto been the enemies, of your sister." 
 
 To be considered enemies^ each one felt 
 to be a severe sentence ; yet self-conviction 
 allowed them no power of objection; and in 
 a few minutes Sophia entered the room, 
 bringing in her hand two bracelets, with 
 which she proceeded to Mr. Daventree. 
 
 " My dear mamma has given me these 
 to wear constantly, in order that, whenever
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 81 
 
 I begin to fly out so improperly again, 
 some one near may take one of them off, 
 which will put me in mind of all you have 
 said to me. Dear Emily I know will al- 
 ways help me." 
 
 "We will all help yon, dear Sophy," 
 said William, eagerly ; " but you will need 
 little help when we no longer tease and pro- 
 voke you. We have been all unkind, z'ery 
 unkind, but we will never be so again." 
 
 Kisses, tears, and smiles, concluded this 
 happy agreement. Sophia put on the 
 bracelets ; and an account was kept by Miss 
 Harcourt of the number of times in which 
 there had been a necessity, either to re- 
 move them, or begin to do so, which gene- 
 rally answered the purpose. Happily, be- 
 fore the year came round, all occasion for 
 this curb on her temper had ceased ; and as 
 her disposition and abilities were no longer 
 obscured by this defect, she was every way 
 improved, and become tlie delight of her 
 family and friends. On that day twelve-
 
 82 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 month she received from her father a pair 
 of china vases for her flowers, and from 
 her brothers and sisters a pair of bracelets, 
 which, although merely neat ones, were 
 given to her as a badge of honour, and in- 
 tended to banish the memory of those 
 which served a good purpose, but were, in 
 fact, the mark of disgrace. 
 
 To these presents was added a very in- 
 teresting one, brought for her by Sally 
 Morton, who had reared for her a beautiful 
 little piping bullfinch, which her son had 
 taught to whistle "God save the King." 
 
 " I have brought it," said the good old 
 woman, " because of the great mercy I re- 
 ceived a year ago, in the preservation of my 
 dear son ; and I give it you. Miss Sophy, 
 because, though every body was good to me, 
 you were the^7'5^ to pity me, and comfort 
 me. Ah, Miss, it is a day I shall never 
 forget." 
 
 " Neither ought I to forget it, dameMor- 
 ton, for it was of great importance to me
 
 THE PASSIONATE LITTLE GIRL. 83 
 
 also ; and when I hear this pretty bird sing- 
 ing, it will also remind me of my own re- 
 stored happiness. My dear parents now 
 approve my conduct ; my brothers and sis- 
 ters love me, and never laugh at me ; and 
 my good governess declares that I am no 
 longer a ' passionate little girl.' " 
 
 H 2
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BENEFIT OF EXPERIENCE. 
 
 As little William Foster, the son of a 
 small farmer, was trudging homewards with 
 a basket, in which lay an empty tin bottle 
 and his spelling-book, he was met by two 
 youths, the sons of a neighbouring gentle- 
 man, one of whom inquired, in a kind man- 
 ner, if he had been to school ? 
 
 *' Yes, master Charles, 1 have been there 
 all day." 
 
 '' I thought as much from your empty 
 milk-bottle; it is a very good plan to take 
 your dinner with you ; it gives more time
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 85 
 
 both for work and play. What book are 
 you in?" 
 
 " This is my spelling-book — but I read 
 in the Testament every day." 
 
 '* I am glad you are so forward, my little 
 fellow ; and if you will come to the Park 
 to-morrow evening, and go to Mrs. Willis's 
 room, I will give her some of my old story 
 books, for you to read at home, on winter 
 nights, to your sisters." 
 
 William's eyes glistened with delight as 
 he expressed his simple thanks ; and he 
 was quickening his pace, when a gentle- 
 man, who had been walking with the youths, 
 observed, in rather a stern tone — " You are 
 going to do a very foolish thing, Charles, in 
 giving that poor boy story books, as they 
 will certainly do him more harm than good. 
 They can answer no end, except to depict 
 pleasures he can never share, raise hopes it 
 is impossible for him to realize, or awaken 
 ambition it would be wrong for him to feel. ^' 
 
 '^ I am certain, sir," said the elder bro- 
 
 H 3
 
 86 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 iher, who had not yet spoken, " no bad ef- 
 fects can arise from our old story books, 
 since every one of them was read by our 
 parents, before they were put into our 
 liands. My father says they are very dif- 
 ferent things from the fairy tales, and Jack 
 the Giant Killer stories, that boys used to 
 read when you and he were young." 
 
 *' They may be very different, yet no 
 better ; they may be less silly, but equally 
 mischievous, since they communicate no 
 useful knowledge, and coUiSume much va- 
 luable time. They may perhaps excite a 
 poor child like this to learn to read, it is 
 true, when nothing else would do it, but 
 never could employ boys like you properly, 
 because the education of a gentleman calls 
 for much laborious attention ; your studies 
 leave no time to throw upon books that do 
 not contribute to your improvement. '^ 
 
 " My father," replied Henry, with great 
 modesty, " says, that in early life the heart 
 requires educating, not less than the under-
 
 AVILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 87 
 
 standing ; and whilst we were children, and 
 under my mother's care, our reading was 
 directed to the formation of our dispositions, 
 in order that when we went into the world 
 (I mean of course when we went to a large 
 school), we should have got something like 
 fixed notions of right and wrong in our 
 heads. I really believe, if I had not read 
 with great attention Miss Edge worth's Pa- 
 rents' Assistant, I should have been just 
 such a boy as ' Lovel, the good-natured 
 Boy,' and become a mere shuttlecock 
 among my schoolfellows, for want of cou- 
 rage to say no to the boy I despised, or 
 the scheme I hated. 1 should have made 
 myself ridiculous, from fear of a fool's 
 laughter, and complied against my con- 
 science with many a wrong action, because 
 a leader conamanded me." 
 
 "And I," cried Charles, "if papa had 
 not made me read and understand ' Eyes 
 or no Eyes,' in Dr. Aikin's Evenings at 
 Home, should have been as stupid a dog
 
 88 WILLIAM AND HIS STOllY BOOKS. 
 
 as ever was born, instead of meriting the 
 praise you gave me for knowing so much 
 of natural history. Indeed, I should have 
 been a perfect Lazy Lawrence, if my mo- 
 ther had not made me see myself in his 
 character, and taught me to dread coming 
 to his end." 
 
 " As I know nothing at all of the books 
 of which you speak, I can make no obser- 
 vation in point, nor can I find fault, with 
 propriety, on any feature in your educa- 
 tion, sanctioned by your parents ; but this 
 little fellow has his bread to gain, and no 
 time to spare for mere amusement, which 
 is all I can be brought to believe any one 
 derives from story books. Now, if I visit 
 you next year, I will give him copy-books, 
 and useful books, and if he has the sense to 
 profit by them, we shall see in time whether 
 you or I have done him the most good." 
 
 The little boy had been so pent up by 
 the parties, that he could not move with- 
 out disturbing them till the argument was
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 89 
 
 over, when he walked on, wondering as he 
 went what the story books would be about, 
 whether he could get the back way into so 
 grand a house as that of Hazeldine Park, 
 without seeing a great dog or a rough 
 groom ; and then recurring again to what 
 the gentleman had said, " how could it be 
 possible that people should read to no 
 good purpose — did not his master tell the 
 boys continually, to mind their books — did 
 not his father often lament his own want 
 of learning as a great misfortune ?" 
 
 The books were got with little difficulty, 
 for servants generally take the tone of 
 their master, and the Honourable Henry 
 Hazeldine was the friend of the poor in 
 the truest sense of the word ; for he en- 
 couraged the industrious, relieved the sick 
 and unfortunate, lield the idle and disso- 
 lute in such awe, that they could not in- 
 jure others, and was in every respect what 
 a country gentleman ought to be. Farmer 
 Foster had not the happiness of being one
 
 90 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 of " his honour Hazeldine's tenants ;" but 
 the family had not the less a kind word or 
 action for him or his family, if they came 
 in his way ; and this little present of 
 Charles to poor Will was highly estimated 
 by all the little circle at poor Foster's. 
 
 The books were read with so much 
 pleasure, that the mother of William took 
 them into her own keeping, and allowed 
 him to read them only at such times, and 
 under such circumstances, as were con- 
 sistent with his duties, and a reward for 
 his good conduct. Young as he was, 
 there were many ways in which our little 
 boy could be useful in the evenings and 
 mornings ; and it was not until the pig 
 had been fed, the cow watered, the gates 
 around all carefully closed, and certain 
 little matters in the house performed by 
 his^ hand, that the tired, but happy little 
 boy, could sit down to read the history of 
 boys of his own age, and frequently of his 
 own condition, in the welcome little books.
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 91 
 
 Greatly was his pleasure enbanced, when 
 milking being finished by his mother, and 
 the cattle foddered by his father, they too 
 could sit down and listen to that which he 
 had already conned, and could therefore 
 read with fluency. Many a pause was 
 filled up with just, though rustic observa- 
 tions, as they dwelt on the efforts of simple 
 Susan to pay herTather's debt, or the sor- 
 rows of the Blind Farmer. As the follow- 
 ing year advanced, this pleasure extended 
 to his little sisters, who became old enough 
 to understand the subject, and enter into 
 the instruction conveyed by the conduct of 
 the tale, and were extremely anxious to 
 learn to read in such a clever way as Wil- 
 liam did, in order that they also might 
 give pleasure to their parents. 
 
 Mr. Maynard did not, as he was wont, 
 visit his friends at the Park during the 
 following shooting season, but he was not 
 unmindful of his promise. Through the 
 medium of Mrs. Hazeldine, he sent him
 
 92 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 some copy-books, a slate, and account- 
 books; and as -he had now made some 
 progress in his learning (though it was 
 only during the winter that he could be 
 spared to attend school), he began to teach 
 his sisters that which he had learnt him- 
 self, at a place too distant for them to go to. 
 As William grew taller and stronger, 
 his labours became of course more extend- 
 ed, and having read much on the duty of 
 children to their parents, and thought 
 much on the subject, no one could be 
 more desirous than he was to contribute to 
 the benefit and the happiness of his be- 
 loved father and mother. Far from look- 
 ing down upon them, because they could 
 not do that which he did, he was truly 
 grateful to them for having bestowed on 
 him the time and money necessary for his 
 humble attainments; and as his father 
 was a sensible man, and like many persons 
 in his station, practically master of much 
 natural history, William was exceedingly
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 93 
 
 fond of conversing with liiiu, and gaining 
 knowledge from his experience, and of in- 
 quiring from him how far the books he 
 might happen to see were right in what 
 they said on such subjects. 
 
 In pursuance of his wish to show es- 
 pecial regard to his parents, William un- 
 dertook the particular care of the garden, 
 which had hitherto been merely a cabbage 
 ground, and this he adde'd to his general 
 allotment of work on the farm. In the 
 management of this bit of ground, his 
 sisters greatly helped him, and they were 
 never more happy than when he was dig- 
 ging, and they were weeding near him, and 
 comparing themselves with some of the 
 children they had read about in the story- 
 books, who toiled for their parents or each 
 other. Labour was to them more sweet 
 than play, because it was the medium of 
 displaying affection, and it never failed of 
 reward, for the earth always repays that 
 labour we bestow upon her. 
 
 I
 
 94 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 Economy and industry produced in the 
 humble dwelling of farmer Foster such an 
 improvement of circumstances, that five or 
 six years after the commencement of our 
 story, a neighbour being about to throw up 
 his farm and remove to a distant county, 
 the honest man thought he might ven- 
 ture to take it, aided as he now w^as by an 
 active son, and two girls w^ho were as good 
 as their mother. ' The farm was Mr. Ha- 
 zeldine's, who was the best of landlords ; 
 but then he would undoubtedly expect a 
 richer tenant, one who could do more jus- 
 tice to his land, so far as money was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 "Had the sons of Mr. Hazeldine been at 
 home, seeing they were so kind to William 
 when he was a little one, they might have 
 been so good as to speak to their father, 
 but they were now gentlemen out in the 
 world, and his honour himself very poorly, 
 so that madam never went out of the 
 house ;" and w^ith those cogitations in his
 
 "WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 95 
 
 head, the farmer knew not how he could 
 get the recommendation he wanted. All 
 his thoughts were revealed to William, who 
 was equally puzzled, and, in fact, more 
 anxious, since he saw more of their neigh- 
 bours than his father, and knew that many 
 persons were anxious to add this farm also 
 to their own. 
 
 When the shooting season arrived, Wil- 
 liam heard, by accident, that Mr. May- 
 nard, after travelling some years on the 
 Continent, had come back, and was again 
 visiting at the Park. It struck him that it 
 would be only right for him to go thither, 
 and thank him for his present, which 
 he held to be particularly kind, since he 
 lived more than two hundred miles from 
 thence, and had recollected him after two 
 years had passed since he saw him in the 
 lane. 
 
 William was fortunate in meeting this 
 gentleman in the pleasure-grounds, walk- 
 ing in adrance of a gay party, before whom 
 
 I 2
 
 96 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 lie sliould have found it awkward to speak, 
 especially as he was conscious that his 
 mind was labouring to find the means of 
 rendering Mr. Maynard so far favourable 
 to himself, that he might be made propi- 
 tious to his father's wishes, by opening the 
 affair of the farm to Mr. Hazeldine. 
 
 On accosting him, and thanking him, 
 Mr. Maynard immediately recollected not 
 only the books, but every circumstance 
 connected with them, and he adverted to 
 it with so much good-nature, that the poor 
 boy took courage to speak of the wishes of 
 his father and family, respecting the farm, 
 that was so soon likely to be unoccupied. 
 The manner in which he laid down his fa- 
 ther's plans for making it answer, and his 
 candid confession of their narrow means 
 of stocking it, at once shewed the good 
 sense and the honesty of himself and his 
 parents, and disposed Mr. Maynard greatly 
 in his favour ; but he answered his appli- 
 cation as if there were certain preliminaries 
 to be attended to first.
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 97 
 
 " I perceive, my boy, the little education 
 you have got has not been thrown away 
 upon you, therefore I hope you will gladly 
 and freely acknowledge how much more 
 useful the books were that I sent you, than 
 the childish things given you by my young 
 friends, who have come down to see their 
 parents at this time, and are now advan- 
 cing towards us. Here they come ; and 
 if you will own to them what you must 
 know to be the truth, as regards the story- 
 books, I will immediately speak to their 
 father in behalf of ?/owr5, and it will, most 
 probably, be with good effect." 
 
 William was exceedingly troubled by 
 this request, on account of the obligation 
 he felt to both parties, and the more em- 
 barrassed by reason of the condition an- 
 nexed to the opinion he was expected to 
 give. He knew, however, that the first 
 great point was to speak the truth ; and in 
 order to do that simply and exactly, he 
 began eagerly to recal to mind his obliga- 
 
 I 3
 
 98 WILLTAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 tions to each particular present, in order 
 that he might do justice to both. 
 
 " You gave me writing copies, sir, by 
 which I improved my writing very much ; 
 and an account-book, which was still bet- 
 ter, since the knowledge I gained from it 
 has saved my poor father many a pound ; 
 but then it was reading Lazy Lawrence 
 that made me determined to learn, because 
 I saw that only idle, gluttonous, and mis- 
 chievous boys, are ignorant by choice. I 
 am sure, sir, I can never thank you enough 
 for sending me such a many nice copy- 
 books, for I was enabled through them to 
 teach both my sisters to write ; but then 
 it was the story-books that made me wish 
 to learn, and be desirous of doing my 
 duty — it was owing to them that I ever 
 tried to work for my poor father out of 
 love for him, and that I made the garden 
 both beautiful and ])rofitable — they laid 
 the foundation of every thing I ever did 
 that was right. They who expect harvest
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 99 
 
 must not despise seed-time, you know, 
 sir." 
 
 " But you are not taking the way to 
 get your father the farm, William. I did 
 not ask you to praise my gift, but T claim- 
 ed from you a declaration of its preference, 
 and on that condition promised to befriend 
 your father ; and, depend upon it, that 
 my recommendation will go farther with 
 Mr. Hazeldine than even that of his sons, 
 because he will rely on my experience. 
 Think again on the matter, for it is to you 
 and your family very important." 
 
 William was silent, and so absorbed in 
 thought, that he did not perceive that the 
 two young Hazeldines and their invalid 
 father, with three other gentlemen, had 
 now reached them, and were standing 
 in a circle round them. After a long 
 pause, he looked at Mr. Maynard with a 
 deprecating air, and in a low but distinct 
 voice observed — " Every one of the story- 
 books the young gentlemen gave me,
 
 100 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 taught me to despise a lie, both as a wicked 
 and foolish thing ; and that book which has 
 more good in it than all other books put 
 together, forbids all lying as a sin; there- 
 fore I dare not say that in my heart I 
 think your present was more valuable to 
 me than the other, though I am willing to 
 say it was as good. 1 may be wrong in 
 my judgment, but I am but a lad of four- 
 teen ; but when I recollect the good the 
 story-books did in my family, I can say 
 no less for them, without being downright 
 ungrateful. Why, sir, many's the time 
 they kept father at home when he would 
 have gone out, and that made my mother 
 happy : my sister Sally, who was once 
 proud and pettish, was taught by them to 
 be humble and obedient ; and Nancy, who 
 was indolent, became industrious ; and as 
 
 for myself, why I " 
 
 Poor William could not make this long 
 exculpatory speech longer, by dilating on 
 his own merits, and was conscious that he
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 101 
 
 had already taken a liberty. Hewasmov- 
 ing away in some confusion, that he might 
 hide his grief and mortification, when Mr. 
 Maynard laid his hand on his shoulder to 
 detain him, whilst he thus addressed the 
 young gentlemen, who were now first seen 
 by William. 
 
 " Well, my young friends, I now con- 
 fess yreeZ?/ that my former prejudice against 
 ' Tales for Children' was founded on igno- 
 rance of their tendency and effects. In 
 this boy I have a decisive proof, not only 
 that they pave the way for useful know- 
 ledge, but that they really inculcate sound 
 principles. Having said so much by way 
 of recantation, I must now proceed to my 
 office of recommendation, for which pur- 
 pose I must address your father." 
 
 " That is unnecessary," said Mr. Hazel- 
 dine, " for I have intended for some 
 months to offer my farm, of the Green Lea, 
 to Foster, whose industry and good man- 
 agement of his land, and his family, have
 
 102 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 been long under my eye, although, seeing 
 he has not required my assistance, I have 
 had little personal acquaintance with him. 
 He shall not be left without the means of 
 stocking it, for I know him to be as honest 
 a man as he is a good labourer. And now, 
 William, run home as fast as you can with 
 the good news ; and tell your mother that 
 we shall call for a slice of her brown loaf, 
 and a pat of fresh butter, as we return from 
 to-morrow's shooting." 
 
 " And we have a barrel of capital ale, 
 sir ; and mother makes beautiful curds," 
 cried ^^'illiam, his eyes sparkling with joy, 
 from a sense of honour conferred, as well 
 as obligation received. 
 
 Never sprang a lighter pair of heels, or 
 a happier heart, over the green turf, than 
 poor William's, as he ran home to make 
 those most dear to him as happy as him- 
 self; nor could there be a pleasanter con- 
 sultation than that between the young 
 Hazeldines and Mr. Maynard, as to the
 
 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 103 
 
 useful presents they determined on giving 
 to a youth who had made such a good use 
 of their former gifts. One brother deter- 
 mined on giving him a sow, with a large 
 Htter of pigs, thinking he could feed them 
 on the produce of his garden ; the other 
 said he would buy him a donkey, as he 
 would live on the common, and be ex- 
 tremely useful in carrying products of 
 every kind to market ; and Mr. Maynard 
 said he would purchase for him a com- 
 plete set of garden tools, and implements 
 of husbandry. 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Hazeldine, " it shall 
 be my turn now to furnish him with books. 
 In addition to the Society's best Bible and 
 Prayer Book, I will give him the Gar- 
 dener's Calendar, a work on Natural His- 
 tory, written in a plain manner, and a large 
 bound volume of the Cottager's Friend ; 
 for well does he deserve the recreation such 
 works will afford him, and good use will he 
 make of the information they will com-
 
 104 WILLIAM AND HIS STORY BOOKS. 
 
 municate to him. We should never forget 
 that the poor have minds to provide food 
 for, as well as mouths to fill, and that if 
 we do not give them that which is good, 
 they may find that which is bad. Many a 
 man in low life, who is at this moment an 
 idle sot, a dissolute poacher, or an useless 
 pauper, might have been rendered active, 
 steady, and worthy, by the proper applica- 
 tion of as much money as would support 
 a village schoolmaster, and as much con- 
 sideration for a child's wants as was shown 
 by my son Charles, when he gave William 
 his own half-worn story books, and thereby 
 gave you and me, my good friend, the 
 benefit of experience."
 
 THE 
 
 BEST BOY IN THE WORLD; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BEST HAVE ROOM TO MEND. 
 
 Great was the distress of Lady Harriet 
 Elmore, when she received a letter from 
 Colonel Elmore, her husband, earnestly 
 entreating her to meet him in Italy, (whi- 
 ther he was travelling from India by the 
 overland route), not only because she found 
 that her beloved partner was in poor health, 
 and low spirits, but because the idea of 
 leaving Edward, their only child, was ex- 
 ceedingly afflicting to her. He had been 
 the sole object of her unceasing care, dur- 
 ing more than seven of those long years in 
 
 K
 
 106 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 which his father had been absent, a period 
 which constituted two-thirds of hishfe, and 
 as he could not recollect that his mamma 
 had ever left him for a single day , she dread- 
 ed the effect of her absence upon his mind, 
 and could not sustain the idea of his grief. 
 Mrs. Bellaire, who had been her friend 
 from infancy, and who lived within thirty 
 miles, hastened to her on this emergency, 
 and having read the letter, and calculated 
 the time in which it was probable that the 
 colonel would reach Naples, urged her to 
 proceed immediately for London, from 
 whence some friends of hers were at that 
 time setting out for Rome, from whom she 
 could insure her every attention. In ad- 
 dition to this kindness, she likewise pro- 
 posed taking her son home to her own 
 house, where he would have the advantage 
 of sharing the cares of an excellent tutor, 
 with her own two youngest sons, one of 
 whom was the same age with himself, and 
 the other a year younger.
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 107 
 
 The tender mother was also the affec- 
 tionate wife : she saw clearly that it was 
 her duty to take Mrs. Bellaire's advice, 
 and accept her offer, which she well knew 
 to be that of a most admirable mother, 
 and excellent woman, in every sense of 
 the word ; and after warmly thanking her, 
 though with many tears, she proceeded to 
 expatiate on the good qualities of Edward — 
 to mention the progress he had made in his 
 learning — to assure her friend that he 
 would repay her kindness by the example 
 he would afford her children ; and that, in 
 short, " he was the best boy in the world." 
 
 " Frank and Sinclair are tolerably good 
 children," said Mrs. Bellaire ; "they will, 
 I am certain, be very kind to him ; and I 
 can say still more for the rest of the estab- 
 lishment, so that I am sure you may leave 
 him to us safely ; and as to fretting your- 
 self so much about a child^s sorrow, believe 
 me (who know children better than you 
 do) it is very unnecessary." 
 
 K 2
 
 108 THE IJEST BOY IN THE WOULD. 
 
 Lady Harriet only shook lier head in 
 reply ; she folt assured that Eihvard was 
 more attached to her than Mrs. Bellaire's 
 children could be to either of their parents, 
 for tliis plain reason, that his affections had 
 been all concentred on one object, wliere- 
 as they had many to love, and could there- 
 fore not be expected to love intensely. — 
 " Besides, it was not in the nature of things, 
 that persons of large fortune, and numer- 
 ous connections, who spent a part of every 
 year in London, and were engaged with all 
 the cares and pleasures of political and 
 fashionable life, could cultivate the affec- 
 tions, and take part in the feelings of their 
 numerous family, in the same way she had 
 done with her single darling. No, they 
 would not estimate him justly — not under- 
 stand him thoroughly." 
 
 Happily, with these thoughts came the 
 recollection that at Bellaire Park he would 
 find all the pleasures which fortune could 
 bestow on a large scale, and which could
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 109 
 
 hardly fail to surprise and delight him, as 
 contrasting with the small and quiet estab- 
 lishment to which prudence and inclination 
 had hitherto confined her ladyship; and 
 with this idea full upon her mind, she ven- 
 tured to break the matter to the astonished 
 boy, and prepare him for departing with 
 her friend, who now undertook to arrange 
 every thing in the most speedy manner for 
 her own far-distant journey. 
 
 Edward heard with great satisfaction 
 about " companions of his own age," 
 " pretty little ponies," on which he was to 
 ride, " gardens full of all kinds of fruit," 
 and even of a "good gentleman," who 
 would teach him Latin, and shew him on 
 the map all the places where his dear 
 papa travelled : he was ready to assure his 
 mamma that he would never forget " to 
 say his prayers, nor to give his pocket- 
 money to poor old people, and get his les- 
 sons diligently ;" but he could form no idea 
 of doing any thing without mamma being 
 
 K 3
 
 110 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 present to see liim, and to praise him. 
 The shock of parting- with her was so great, 
 that it seemed to overwhehn the poor 
 child's faculties; and this misfortune at 
 last took place under such a paroxysm of 
 sorrow, that it required not only all the 
 true friend:;hipj but all the strength of 
 mind Mrs. Bellaire possessed, to witness it, 
 and consider what an awful and trouble- 
 some office she had undertaken. 
 
 Sensible that sorrow, like all violent 
 passions, must in time exhaust itself, she 
 suffered the poor boy to cry on for the first 
 twenty miles, and to sleep for the remain- 
 der of the way. Nor was she sorry to 
 find that her own young ones were gone to 
 rest on their arrival, as she hoped a good 
 night, and the novelty of all things around 
 him in the morning, would divert Ed- 
 ward's mind J so far as to soothe the acute- 
 ness of his feelings, without therefore less- 
 ening the affection he felt for his mother, 
 and the regret natural to his situation.
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WOKLD. 1] 1 
 
 Dejected and drowsy, the child, whose 
 manners were at all times gentle, took 
 quietly the food that was offered to him, 
 and departed, with unresisting steps and 
 equal inattention to the kindness shewn 
 him ; but as this could be accounted for by 
 the mental excitement he had suffered, 
 neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bellaire considered 
 it as a fault, and they were happy in think- 
 ing that they should give their dear chil- 
 dren a pleasant companion, whilst they 
 materially assisted a suffering friend, who 
 would never have had the courage to place 
 her weeping boy in a school, or with any 
 less considerate persons. 
 
 " Have you not seen Edward Elmore 
 yet ?" said Mrs. Bellaire to her son Fran- 
 cis, as he entered her dressing-room the 
 next morning, to inquire after her health, 
 and receive her caresses. 
 
 " Yes, mamma, I have seen him ; he is 
 a pretty boy, but very odd ; he won't let 
 Susan wash him, nor wash himself, till you
 
 112 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 come. He says you are to be his mamma 
 till his own comes home again ?" 
 
 " So I am, my dear ; but surely Lady 
 Harriet did not act as nurse- maid to such 
 a great boy as Edward ?" 
 
 " He says she always stood by when he 
 was dressed — and he cries so, you can't 
 think ; it grieves me to see him cry." 
 
 *' I dare say it does, Frank, therefore I 
 would have you go back and persuade him 
 to be more of a man in his conduct. He 
 is in great trouble from his mamma's ab- 
 sence ; therefore, if he should be cross and 
 wayward, it is your duty to pity him, and 
 be patient with him, and do your utmost 
 to amuse him, recollecting that he has 
 never had a good papa to instruct him 
 and control him, as you have." 
 
 Frank so far stimulated Edward's pride, 
 as to overcome his sullenness and grief for 
 the present, a circumstance Mrs. Bellaire 
 rejoiced to learn, being aware that many 
 faults are best cured by companions, and
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE AVOKLD. 113 
 
 many habits best inculcated by example. 
 But she had scarcely heard this good news, 
 when Sinclair entered, saying — " Dear 
 mamma, Edward Elmore has brought all 
 his playthings into my own place, and 
 turned all my books out, and my drawing 
 things, and every thing I have; he says, 
 
 mamma, that " 
 
 " ^Yhat does he say ? you may speak 
 the exact truth." 
 
 '* He says, that he always puts his things 
 exactly where he likes at home, and that 
 every body does what he bids them. I did 
 not like to tell you this 2X first, because it 
 seemed so like a story." 
 
 " Your conclusion was very natural, my 
 dear ; but I am afraid Edward has had a 
 good deal of indulgence ; nevertheless, as 
 his own mamma assured me he w as a very 
 good boy (indeed the best in the world), 
 I expect to find him amiable ; but we must 
 make great allowance for him — he has had 
 no little brother or sister to share his
 
 114 THE BEST BOY IX THE WORLD. 
 
 playthings, or the place where he used 
 them." 
 
 " He says he had all the house to play 
 in at home." 
 
 " Perhaps he had, for I remember see- 
 ing the same things in the drawing-room, 
 which afterwards annoyed me in the 
 coach." 
 
 " But that was not proper, mamma, 
 surely ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Sinclair, it was not ; and I 
 hope, before he has been long with us, he 
 will cure himself of those bad habits which 
 led to it: in the mean time we must pity 
 him, and persuade him to think of other 
 people as well as himself." 
 
 A third entrance from a servant, who 
 said, " Master Elmore was crying dreadful- 
 ly," hastened Mrs. Bellaire^s visit to the 
 children's apartment, where she found the 
 sobbing child in great distress, because he 
 was left alone, in consequence of Francis
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 115 
 
 and Sinclair having gone to attend their 
 studies. 
 
 " I will take you to their school-room, 
 my dear, and introduce you to Mr. Fair- 
 thorne, their tutor." 
 
 "But I don't choose to go ! I won't 
 learn of any body but my own mamma. I 
 told the boys so when they teased me to 
 go with them." 
 
 " What can I do with this poor child V 
 said Mrs. Bellaire to herself, as she per- 
 ceived the paleness of his cheeks, and the 
 redness of his eyes. " If I give way to 
 his self-will, the example will be ruinous 
 to my own children — to oppose him thus 
 early may injure his health, which is evi- 
 dently not robust — his sorrow is so deep 
 and silent, so unlike that of a violent 
 and obstinate-tempered child, that I am 
 really not more grieved than puzzled by 
 him." 
 
 At length Edward rose from his chair, 
 wiped his eyes, and said, in a tone of quiet
 
 116 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 condescension — "You may take me into 
 the garden." 
 
 " I have not breakfasted yet/' said Mrs. 
 Bellaire. 
 
 " That makes no difference that I know 
 of: I got my breakfast long since." 
 
 " And did your mamma always go out 
 with you when you asked her, my dear?" 
 
 " To be sure she did. I wish she were 
 here now." 
 
 " I am very glad she is not, for she 
 could not be happy if she were : she would 
 see your red eyes, and know that you had 
 been naughty, and that would grieve her : 
 do you think you love her?" 
 
 "To be sure I love her dearly." 
 
 " I think not — for I have observed that 
 boys who love their mothers try to oblige 
 them. Sinclair and Francis know that I 
 should be very unhappy if they were rude 
 to others, disobedient to their tutor, or 
 negligent in their lessons ; and I am sure 
 they love me, because they save me from
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 117 
 
 pain. I would not believe any thing they 
 said, if their actions disagreed with their 
 words ; nor would I yield to their wishes, 
 if I saw that they desired their own plea- 
 sure, but did not value mine." 
 
 " I am not naughty — I always speak 
 the truth, and I don't hurt anybody." 
 
 As Edward spoke, his eye fell on those 
 things which he had placed on a chiffonier, 
 by ejecting the property of Sinclair Bel- 
 laire ; he stopped, coloured, and began 
 hastily to remove them ; in which employ- 
 ment Mrs. Bellaire left him, and in the 
 course of time her sons found him, as 
 there was a struggle in his breast, which 
 rendered the employment very indecisive 
 in its effects — one minute he was on the 
 point of resigning that which he had no 
 right to usurp ; the next, he resumed his 
 imagined right of doing that which it was 
 his pleasure to do. 
 
 Under the influence of pity for his pre- 
 sent affliction, the young Belhiires suffer- 
 
 L
 
 118 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 ed IiiiTj to take the lead in all those move- 
 ments dictated by themselves ; but since 
 theirrides and walks were necessarily under 
 the control of their parents or tutor, some 
 difficulties were for several days constantly 
 presented by Edward Ehii ore's desire 
 to go some other way than the one fixed 
 upon, take any person's pony to which 
 he had a fancy, and make a regular com- 
 plaint against Mrs. Bellaire, if she were 
 not of the party. 
 
 The good-natured boys bore every thing 
 well, save this complaint ; but even little 
 Sinclair could not forbear to exclaim, one 
 day — '' Really, Edward, you seem to 
 think my mamma should be your constant 
 attendant, and had nothing to do but what 
 you wished for." 
 
 " Well, so 1 do. Did she not promise 
 to supply my own poor mamma's place to 
 me, and did not my mamma do every thing 
 1 asked her to do ?" 
 
 " She must have been very silly to do
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 119 
 
 ■what a boy like you bade her do — you 
 must be joking- ; who ever heard of a pa- 
 rent obeying a child V 
 
 " Or who," cried Frank, " ever heard of 
 a chdd being so wicked as to think of o?'- 
 dering his parent ?" 
 
 Poor Edward was on the point of weep- 
 ing, but he had ah-eady found that the 
 lon^ fits of crying to which he was wont 
 to have recourse, had no effect on any 
 one in his present circle ; and in his anx- 
 iety to justify himself, he appealed to Mr. 
 Fairthorne, "whether it were not Mrs.Bel- 
 laire's duty to fulfil her promise ?" 
 
 " It is doubtless her duty to act as a 
 kind mother to. you, my dear ; and in 
 giving you the same pleasure, and offer- 
 ing you the same advantJiges she does to 
 her own children, every body will think 
 she fulfils her duty. Surely you must 
 know that she has many much more press- 
 ing duties to fulfil than attending to boys 
 of your age? Mrs. Bellaire has a large 
 
 L 2
 
 120 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 circle of poor persons, to whose sorrow 
 and sickness she gives constant care ; she 
 has (as you know) a great number of 
 friends in the house, for whose comfort 
 and amusement she is anxious ; and surely 
 her own sweet little girls must claim a 
 portion of her time, to say nothing of 
 the school she has instituted for the chil- 
 dren of the village. As you are undoubt- 
 edly a thoughtful boy, it appears strange 
 that you have not considered this matter." 
 
 " I only thought that I wanted her, be- 
 cause I love her." 
 
 " So do we love to have mamma with 
 us," cried Frank, " and dear papa too ; 
 but we like that she should be happy with 
 her guests, and also like very much that 
 he should be busy with the election, be- 
 cause, when he is again made a member, 
 he will do a deal of good in the parliament, 
 I dare say. You are a very generous boy, 
 Edward, you would give any thing away 
 to help your fellow-creatures; but you
 
 THE BEST B )Y IN THE WORLD. 1*21 
 
 don't seem to know, tljat a great deal of 
 good may be done distinct from charity ; 
 it is the duty of such men as ray papa to 
 do it, and not to be always riding about 
 witli his own sons.'^ 
 
 " Yes, I do know that, or why should 
 my father risk his life in the East Indies? 
 but I always thought ladies should give 
 up every thing in the world for their chil- 
 dren. I am sure my man»ma did so; she 
 would not dine out Avith her nearest neigh- 
 bour, for fear that I should want her at 
 home again." 
 
 "In consequence of uhich," said Mr. 
 Fairthorne, " with many good qualities, 
 and great abilities, you have become un- 
 manly and selfish, incapable of self-denial, 
 and unequal to any act of magnanimity ; 
 and although you may never commit a 
 great error, yet you will be a constant sub- 
 ject of trouble to your friends." 
 
 Tins was perhaps the first direct reproof 
 the poor boy had ever met with, and it was 
 
 L :i
 
 122 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 therefore no wonder tiiat his heart swelled 
 for a moment with indignation, and the 
 tears twinkled in his eyes ; but as Mr. 
 Fairthorne spoke in a tone of the utmost 
 pity and kindness, and the boys forbore 
 not only to make any comment, but even 
 to look towards him, this angry emotion 
 soon subsided, and he pondered in his 
 mind on all that had been said, beginning 
 to suspect that he was not quite so perfect 
 as he had imagined himself to be, and 
 much ashamed at being less manly and in- 
 dependent than boys of his age ought to 
 be, more especially one wlio was the son of 
 a brave soldier. 
 
 On returning home he could not rest 
 till he had found Mrs. Bellaire ; when, 
 seizing her hand, he drew her away from 
 her party, saying — " Pray tell me, what 
 is the meaning of * being selfish ;' is it 
 being covetous ?" 
 
 " No, my dear, for very extravagant 
 people are generally the most selfish of all
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 123 
 
 others. The sin of selfishness consists 
 of " 
 
 " Is it a sin?'' cried the boy, in great 
 aoitation. 
 
 " Selfishness consists in not only loving 
 yourself better than any other person, but 
 in seeking* your own ease, pleasure, or 
 profit, at any other person's expense. It 
 is of course a great sin against others, and 
 also a sin against God, who has given us 
 this commandment, that we should love 
 our neighbours as ourselves, and do unto 
 others as we would have them do unto us; 
 and selfish people never do these things." 
 
 " I now remember one night, when 
 Frank and me were going to play at nine- 
 pins in the nursery, and Susan was sitting 
 there, looking very ])alc, with a bad head- 
 ache, he went away directly, saying — 'We 
 would not make a noise to disturb her ;' 
 I suppose that was being unselfish — was 
 it not ?" 
 
 " It certainly arose from an opposite 
 })rinciple, my dear."
 
 J 24 THE BEST BOY IX THE WORLD. 
 
 "And when Sinclair hurt his hand with 
 the trap-ball, and gave over crying sud- 
 denly, because little Emma was so sorry, 
 I suppose he conquered his selfishness?" 
 
 " He might be said to do more ; such 
 conduct at his age is magnanimity ; it com- 
 bines fortitude with humanity." 
 
 "But you did not praise him for it — 
 you only took care of his hand." 
 
 " I was really alarmed at the moment, 
 the blood flowed so freely ; therefore my 
 first cares were for the liand. I could rely 
 on my dear boy's disposition, and had 
 seen too many proofs of its goodness to 
 spoil him by applause ; lie knew, that in 
 my heart I must approve his conduct." 
 
 Edward had much to say still ; but he 
 cast his eyes towards a group of ladies, 
 and thought to himself, " perhaps they 
 want Mrs. Bellaire as much as I do," and 
 he silently made his first effort of self- 
 denial, by relinquishing her hand, and re- 
 tiring to the study, where he instantly re-
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 125 
 
 quested Mr. Fairthorne to give him a task, 
 to which he applied with as much diligence 
 as the anxious frame of his mind would 
 admit. 
 
 The next day there were no school 
 duties attended to, for a joyful hoHday 
 took place, not only through the house, 
 but \he country, Mr. Bellaire being elected 
 for the county ; and the company, toge- 
 ther with the family, and a great number 
 of the neighbouring nobility and; gentry, 
 proceeded to the city in a magnificent 
 cavalcade, to be present at his chairing. 
 In addition to the rich who came to do 
 honour to the friend they esteemed, were 
 a numerous company of his tenants on 
 horseback, well dressed, with gay nose- 
 gays, and bunches of ribbon in their hats ; 
 and after these came a multitude of decent 
 poor men, women, and children, most of 
 whom were similarly decorated, and, to 
 use their own phrase, " putting the best 
 foot foremost," with joyful faces and gay
 
 1-6 THK BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 tongues, that thev niiglit ** see liis honour 
 in all his glory." All were pi'oud and 
 ])appv, all sympathized in the delight and 
 the triumph ot' the day : [\ud even I'dward 
 Elmore's pretty, but jiensive countenance, 
 was dressed in smiles, when he received 
 his hat. adorned like tliose ot' his compa- 
 nions with ribbons. 
 
 There were many ladies to accommo- 
 date, all ot^ whom wanted to be as near 
 Mrs. Bellaire as possible: she therefore, 
 though with evidently some ])ain, told her 
 sons and Edwartl that tlu'y could not share 
 ber carriage, but should go in the next 
 barouche with ?Jr. Fairthorne. 
 
 " It is all the same to us, mamma," saiil 
 Francis; but his late cheerful open coun- 
 tenance shewed an inward struggle. 
 
 *' It is not all the same to f//t\ though," 
 cried Edward, poutingly ; but he, too, 
 checked himself, and uiounteil the steps 
 of the carriage with hilarity, whicli increas- 
 ed as he ]U"Oceeded. The novelty of every
 
 THE BEST liOV IN THK WORLD. 1'27 
 
 tliirjfj around him on enterinof the citv.and 
 proceeding to the hustings, where bands 
 of music Nvere stationed, banners display- 
 ed, and immense crowds assembled, whose 
 loud reiterated hurrahs welcomed the ad- 
 vancing carriages of their new member's 
 family, operated on his mind as by a happy 
 contagion, and he became as merry, if not 
 as noisy, as any boy in that numerous as- 
 semblage. 
 
 Hitherto the slave of an ill-regulated 
 sensibility, it was no wonder that as the 
 scene advanced in interest, the poor boy's 
 spirits became too liighly exhilarated, es- 
 pecially as he could not forbear consider- 
 ing himself immediately connected with 
 the honours of the day, and the mingled 
 emotions of pride and timidity which af- 
 fected liim by turns, added to the loud 
 shouting, and the pealing of the bells, de- 
 jjrived him of all self-possession ; and as 
 he stood up in the carriage waving his 
 handkerchief, those around were repeatedly
 
 128 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 obliged to warn him of danger, lest he 
 should fall out. 
 
 He became quiet and attentive during 
 the time he listened to Mr. Bellaire, 
 whilst he addressed his constituents ; but 
 when the acclamations of applause were 
 again poured forth, his spirits rose with 
 the general feeling, and in the act of 
 throwing up his arms, he lost his equi- 
 librium in such a manner, that he would 
 have had a violent fall upon the ground, 
 head foremost, if Frank Bellaire had not 
 grasped his legs, and held him by main 
 strength, until Mr. Fairthorne was enabled 
 to assist him. 
 
 Mrs. Bellaire having witnessed the cir- 
 cumstance with great terror, caused him 
 to be instantly removed to the carriage 
 which she occupied, where he was obliged 
 to sit still, and soon became sensible that 
 he had not been ill used, when circum- 
 stances induced his excellent friend to 
 place him in his late situation.
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 1*29 
 
 They all departed home in the most joy- 
 ful disposition imaginable, Mr. Bellaire 
 being then on horseback amongst his 
 happy and grateful tenantry ; but as his 
 fatigue had been very great, when they 
 were about a mile out of the city, Mrs. 
 Bellaire and her friends so earnestly en- 
 treated that he would take a seat in the 
 carriage, that he consented, observing, — 
 " That Edward could now return safely 
 to his companions — the excitement was 
 over." 
 
 Edward was indeed glad to go, for his 
 heart overflowed with gratitude to Francis, 
 whose hands, though trembling with their 
 burden, had held him so kindly and so 
 effectively : his troubles, liowever, on this 
 eventful day were not over ; for as Mr. 
 Bellaire dismounted, a young man begged 
 " to take his honour's horse, till the groom 
 got up to the place ;" and most unfortu- 
 nately, in the thoughtless hilarity of the 
 hour, attempted to mount him. The 
 
 M
 
 130 THE BEST BOY TN THE WORLD. 
 
 noble animal, conscious of the change, 
 plunged and flounced in such a manner, 
 that in a few moments the young man was 
 flung into the very midst of the advancing 
 carriage, which was coming at a brisk rate 
 to take up Edward Elmore. 
 
 Every one was terrified and grieved, ex- 
 pecting some very dreadful catastrophe, 
 especially as they saw the boy, usually so 
 fearful, run directly into the teeth of dan- 
 ger, by running to the spot where the 
 young man was exposed to the risk of be- 
 ing trampled to death by the horses, if he 
 were not already killed by the fall. All 
 was for a minute confusion ; but as the 
 coachman was clever and sober, the horses 
 were checked ; the poor fellow crawled out 
 dusty, frightened, and a little bruised, 
 but able to drag away Edward, who hung 
 upon him, crying in agony — " Where are 
 you hurt ? oh ! where are you hurt ?" 
 
 Thankful for the escape of both parties, 
 Mr. Fairthorne took Edward into the carri-
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 131 
 
 age, soothed his alarm, and pointed out the 
 utter insufficiency of any assistance he could 
 have given to the poor young man, and 
 the increased agitation he had occasioned 
 to his friends ; but not in a tone of blame, 
 but kindness ; so tliat the boy was fully 
 convinced of the truth of his observations, 
 and really sorry tliat he had been, twice in 
 one day, the cause of so much alarm to 
 that dear though temporary mamma, whose 
 pleasure he now sincerely wished to en- 
 hance. On their arrival at home, so strong 
 was his impression, that he could not rest 
 till he got up to her, and said, " he was 
 extremely sorry he had been so foolish, 
 and alarmed her so much." 
 
 Mrs. Bellaire readily accorded him a 
 kiss of forgiveness, saying, at the same 
 time — " How happened you to be so near 
 falling ?" 
 
 " I had quite forgotten myself with joy, 
 and so I suppose I jumped up, or some- 
 thing of that kind; all I know is, that 
 
 M 2
 
 132 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 Frank saved me — yes, saved my life, by 
 catching hold of me just at the right mo- 
 ment/' 
 
 Mrs. Bellaire gave Frank a look, at once 
 conveying that praise sweet to the heart of 
 a good child, and full of inquiry about 
 the circumstances ; to which he replied — 
 " I saw very plainly, mamma, that Ed- 
 ward could not take care of himself; and 
 knowing that he had never been used to 
 it, poor fellow, I never took my eye off 
 him, by which means I caught him. You 
 know it was altogether a great confusion, 
 though I never was so pleased with any 
 thing in my life." 
 
 " I am glad, my dear boy, to find that 
 the confusion neither prevented your head 
 nor your heart from performing their pro- 
 per functions. But, Edward, my boy, 
 though I can account for your adventure 
 in the first instance, I cannot in the se- 
 cond ; you really ran under the horses' 
 legs, as if you meant to be killed."
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 133 
 
 " I quite forgot myself — I thought of 
 nothing in the world but the poor man 
 that was thrown. I did not remember 
 that I was only a child, aud could not 
 help him, which I ought to have done." 
 
 " Well, my dear, don't be troubled 
 about it," said Mr. Bellaire ; " if you were 
 a foolish boy, at any rate you were not a 
 selfish one, which is much the worse cha- 
 racter." 
 
 Edward's countenance brightened for a 
 moment ; but he recollected that this kind 
 gentleman had seen very little of him, and 
 he looked eagerly towards Mrs. Bellaire, 
 to see if she seconded the observation. 
 
 " My dear boy," said she, " 1 sincerely 
 rejoice that you have been able so entirely 
 to forget your own dear self, as you have 
 done to-day — first, in your joy, which 
 certainly sprang from your love to me and 
 my family, however little you have hither- 
 to shewn it ; and secondly, in the ardent 
 compassion you felt for a suffering stran-
 
 134 THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 ger. If you can carry these good feelings 
 into daily and hourly use, we shall soon 
 see you a lively amiable boy, improving 
 in your learning, that you may make your 
 dear parents happy on their return, and 
 possessing such a love for that which is 
 right, that you will not require the stimu- 
 lant of praise, and much too manly and 
 self-possessed to hang helplessly on any 
 one ; above all, you will be desirous of 
 obeying your Heavenly Father, and being 
 good and pleasing to your fellow-creatures, 
 for his sake." 
 
 " And shall I then be like Frank and 
 Sinclair, and the brothers they talk of, who 
 are at Eton ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly you will, my dear." 
 " I will try — indeed I will try," cried 
 the boy, with extreme animation ; " for I 
 am sure it is very foolish for any boy to 
 go whining about the house like a great 
 pet, and very wicked to be a continual 
 trouble to the mamma v/ho loves him too
 
 THE BEST BOY IN THK WORLD. 1 .'35 
 
 well, as mine has done. Oh ! what a 
 hajjpy thing it is that I came here to be 
 improved, before my dear papa came home 
 to blush for me, and perhaps to blame my 
 good mamma, foi- calling me the best boy 
 in the world !" 
 
 Edward tried with good effect ; by de- 
 grees he became active, energetic, inde- 
 pendent, and yet modest, obedient, and 
 every way tractable. When his parents 
 arrived in England, his fond and anxious 
 mother was astonished by his improve- 
 ment, and particularly by that part of it 
 which related to his temper and disposi- 
 tion, which it was certain her blameable 
 indulgence had rendered a source of mi- 
 sery to them both. She now saw clearly 
 that her friend was a far better manager 
 tlian herself, and had performed more of 
 the duties of her station, without neglect- 
 ing any other ; and often would she say, 
 whilst confessing her past errors, that " the 
 best have room to mend."
 
 THE 
 
 RIDING-SCHOOL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A CURE FOR CONCEIT. 
 
 Every school is an epitome of the world ; 
 large ones resemble the bustle and mixture 
 to be found in the metropolis ; small so- 
 cieties of ten or twelve young gentlemen 
 may be compared to the narrow circle of a 
 village. The smaller family is frequently 
 found to be a good preparative for the 
 larger; but hard indeed is the fate of that 
 boy who plunges at once from the indul- 
 gence and retirement of his father's house,
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 137 
 
 into the bustling, anxious turmoil atten- 
 dant on so new a state of existence, as a 
 large community of schoolboys presents. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Appleby did not appre- 
 hend that their fondly-petted and only 
 son could experience any difficulties, when 
 they agreed (from the warm advice of a 
 true friend) to send him to a far-distant 
 school in the neighbourhood of London ; 
 nor did the boy himself experience that 
 repugnance to the scheme which the friend 
 had fully expected. He was courageous 
 by nature, and having been praised for all 
 that he did, and much that he did not do, 
 became naturally desirous of exhibiting his 
 powers beyond the circle of his admirers 
 at home. The principal of these were 
 the groom and the stable-boy, who were 
 never weary of extolling his abilities, de- 
 scanting on his future greatness, and as- 
 suring him that " sitch gentlemen as he 
 was need not bother their heads about 
 iarnin ;" and with this flattery he was so
 
 138 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 well satisfied, that he never minded the 
 assertion of the old gardener, when he said 
 — " There might be little learning, with 
 great conceit." 
 
 When all was prepared for the expedi- 
 tion, and the youth had been extolled for 
 his resolution, obedience, talents, and what 
 not, the finishing stroke was put to the 
 system by a maiden aunt of his father, 
 when she rode over to take leave of the 
 hope of the family. — "My dear Joey," 
 said she, " I am quite grieved to tell you, 
 that Captain Tresham has the presump- 
 tion to send his son James to the very same 
 school that you are going to, for no reason 
 whatever but that he turns out a sharp 
 boy. What a fool he must be, to venture 
 on such an expense, with three girls to 
 portion, and his property not to be named 
 with your papa's ! But I hope, my dear, 
 you will take care to let all the young 
 gentlemen know who he is, and who you 
 are too. Never forget, my dear, that you
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. l39 
 
 may hold up your head with any body. 
 You are come of one of the oldest famihes 
 in Craven, and one of the richest too ; re- 
 raeniber that." 
 
 This precious nonsense, being backed 
 by presents of various kinds, besides tliree 
 new sovereigns, was held so valuable by 
 the poor boy, that the kind advice of his 
 travelling companion, during their long 
 journey, was entirely thrown away upon 
 him ; and he at length arrived at the gates 
 of ]\rapleton House, under the full per- 
 suasion that no person of equal import- 
 ance had lately passed them, and at any 
 rate, that his late neighbour, James Tre- 
 sham, was decidedly his inferior. This 
 was the case, not only because his father 
 was poorer, and therefore, in his opinion, 
 less of a gentleman ; but the boy, though 
 of the same age, was not so tall as him, 
 and certainly his inferior both as a hunts- 
 man and a shot. 
 
 It so happened that our travellers ar-
 
 140 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 rived just as Captain Tresham was bidding 
 his son farewell— an affair equally painful 
 to both. The moment his father was out 
 of sight, James sprang forward to hail the 
 arrival of his young neighbour, with that 
 cordial joy natural to boys so situated. 
 His overtures were repelled by Appleby 
 with such haughtiness, that James, though 
 a mild boy, instantly recoiled, and deter- 
 mined to seek his friends among strangers ; 
 he had been to school before, and knew 
 how to make acquaintances. 
 
 When in the evening the boys all sal- 
 lied into the play-ground, Tresham was 
 soon engaged, whilst Appleby stood alone 
 unnoticed, and of course melancholy, for 
 no flattering dependant was at hand to 
 soothe and cheer him. It was not long, 
 however, before a good-humoured boy 
 came up to him, and inquired " if he would 
 like to join his friend's set of cricket- 
 ers r 
 
 " I have no friend here, I am sure."
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 141 
 
 " I mean Tresham — I did not know 
 there was any difference between you/' 
 
 " But there be a good deal of differ- 
 ence ; I be the eldest son, and the only 
 son, of Joseph Appleby, Es-qui-er, of Ap- 
 pleby Hall, an' the oldest family, or there- 
 abouts, in the county of Craven ; an' his 
 father's nobbut a second son, with four 
 childer." 
 
 Whilst this speech was making, more 
 than a score of auditors had gathered 
 round the speaker, and partly from the 
 pompous tone, partly from the provincial- 
 isms (which are inevitable to a gentleman's 
 son who is much with servants) of poor 
 Joe, the whole group burst into laughter, 
 except one, and he was a very leading 
 person in the community ; stepping for- 
 ward, with a look of poujpous gravity, he 
 thus commenced acquaintance. 
 
 " Squi-er Joe, 1 be the son and heir of 
 Sir Giles Gobbletop Greenhorn, of Gosling 
 Great-house, in the county of Gloucester,
 
 142 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 Knight and Barrownite, and I hopes for 
 the honour of being your friend — give me 
 your fist, boy." 
 
 Appleby mechanically held out his hand, 
 and the peals of laughter were redoubled ; 
 but the boys soon ran off to different sports, 
 leaving Frank Vivian, his new acquaint- 
 ance, to amuse himself with what he called 
 " cutting up the Yorkshire goose-pie." 
 
 " These be very odd boys to my think- 
 ing," said Appleby. 
 
 " And you are a very odd one to theirs ; 
 but you will know each other better by 
 and by." 
 
 " Who are those two that are running 
 so fast?" 
 
 " The one in green is Osborne, the other 
 Seymour ; but we generally distinguish 
 them as Lord Doodle and Lord Noodle. 
 They are, in fact, both noblemen, and 
 were so silly, when they came here, as to 
 think their titles worth something, which 
 was the cause of my dubbing them Tom
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 143 
 
 Thumb's heroes ; but tliey are very good 
 fellows now, and will lose their appellatives 
 for ever next holidays." 
 
 " Who is that tall boy ? he is very 
 handsome." 
 
 " That is Pelham, the head of the 
 school — the very cleverest fellow we have^ 
 in doors or out : he can drive four-in- 
 hand as well as any coachman on the road, 
 and make fifty Latin verses before break- 
 fast." 
 
 " And is he a lord, or a lord's son ?" 
 
 "Not he truly ; but the boy who car- 
 ries his cricket-bat is the son of the Mar- 
 quis of Chaloner — of course, Lord Ogle- 
 thorpe." 
 
 Appleby's sj)irits sank very low for a 
 few minutes, in conse([uence of jierceiving 
 how little he was likely to obtain distinc- 
 tion, from his claims of family and fortune, 
 seeing- those whose pretensions were so far 
 above his were so effectually crushed. His 
 habitual love of boasting returned on the
 
 144 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 strength of his personal prowess ; and he 
 dilated on his hunting and shooting, spoke 
 of the admiration of the groom, the terror 
 of his mamma, and the astonishment of 
 every creature in the village, until Vivian's 
 assumed gravity was completely put to the 
 rout ; yielding to a fit of ungovernable 
 laughter, he ran off to his companions, 
 leaving the hero of his own tale to morti- 
 fication and disappointment. 
 
 The next day, alas ! exhibited him in 
 the school-room in a still more humiliating 
 situation : for although he had wearied 
 out three private tutors, he had scarcely 
 gained the rudiments of Latin. The kind 
 and judicious manner in which his new in- 
 structor pitied his deficiencies, and pointed 
 out the necessity for overcoming them, only 
 piqued him into anger — he felt himself ill 
 used on every side, and determined not to 
 remain any longer with such abominable 
 company. — "No, he could write to his 
 mother, and he would ; she would not let
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 145 
 
 liim stay in a place where he was made both 
 a laughing-slock and a slave." 
 
 His resolution gave way a little, when 
 he saw the great Pelham advancing to- 
 wards him, for he was already aware that 
 his notice would soon promote him to 
 honour. 
 
 " They tell me," said Pelham, " that 
 you are of an old family ?" 
 
 " So I am ; both my aunt INIercy and 
 my mamma said so." 
 
 " Did your forefathers distinguish them- 
 selves in the fields of Crcssy and Poic- 
 tiers ?" 
 
 Poor Appleby was exceedingly puzzled 
 by this question. — "Surely," said he to 
 himself, "this Pelliam must mean cresses 
 and ])otatoes ; but he has a London tone 
 in twanging his words. '^ Unable to com- 
 ])rehen(l wliat was meant, yet dreading a 
 repetition of the laugh which had wounded 
 him the preceding evening, he answered 
 fh)f:c:ed]v — '^]\ father's fields aie the
 
 146 THE RIDING SCHOOL. 
 
 Lea closes, and tlie Cowslip meadows, and 
 the Gosling green, and the " 
 
 Peals of laughter again rent the air; 
 and so bitter was the vexation he experi- 
 enced, that his rage overcame him, and he 
 began to pull off his jacket, as if for the 
 purpose of fighting all around him. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" cried one, " the Es-qui-er 
 is peeling ; he will soon come to the 
 scratch !" 
 
 "Never fear!" said another; "he'll 
 spill no claret !" 
 
 " No," cried a third ; " Don Pomposa 
 is craven by confession. The Gosling- 
 green ! ha, ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 Though boiling in every vein with use- 
 less rage, Appleby heard at this moment 
 Tresham, in a voice much above its usual 
 gentle })itch, explaining the circumstance 
 of Craven being a district in Yorkshire, 
 where many great battles had been fought, 
 and many biave men might be found. 
 llis heart was a little touched by this ge-
 
 THE RIDlNfi-SCHOOL. \A7 
 
 nerosity, in one whom he had treated so 
 improperly ; and his shame for the igno- 
 rance lie had been conscious of was pro- 
 perly awakened, since he now became 
 sensible that Pelham's questions related to 
 passages in the history of England, which 
 his mamma had vainly solicited him to 
 read. 
 
 Quitting his companions, he betook him- 
 self to his lesson, and, to get rid of uneasy 
 reflections, learned his task with so much 
 care, that on the following morning the 
 doctor pi-aisL'd his diligence ; and this 
 praisf? was so sweet, that for some days he 
 abandoned his design of leaving the school ; 
 but as he was now either consigned to 
 solitude or ridicule, during those play- 
 hours wliich ought to have been the hap- 
 piest in his life, the idea was soon revived; 
 and when he iound that the following 
 Monday was a holiday, as being the doc- 
 tor's birthday, he determined to use the 
 leisure it offered, and put liis dcsipfu into
 
 148 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 execution. — "I shall have the school-room 
 to myself, and I shall manage to write un- 
 seen by any of them, for I won't stay 
 with such a pack of untamed terriers, that 
 I won't." 
 
 When, however, the long wished-for 
 Monday came, it was impossible for Ap- 
 pleby to refrain entirely from joining in 
 the sports of the day, especially as the 
 amusement proposed was immediately con- 
 nected with those animals amongst whom 
 he had hitherto spent the greatest part of 
 his time ; nor could he have any rational 
 doubt but that his judgment in all that 
 respected thtm was equal to that of his 
 tormentors. 
 
 Mapleton House, like many others now 
 appropriated to schools, had formerly been 
 a nobleman's mansion, and amongst other 
 vestiges of former days, had a large sepa- 
 rate building, used in old times as a ban- 
 queting-room, but of late more frequently 
 as a fencing, or riding school. To this
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 149 
 
 spot every quadruped used about the esta- 
 Mislinient, or which could he borrowed 
 for money or good-will, from the neigh- 
 bouring tradespeople and farmers, was 
 brought for the use of the young gentle- 
 men. 
 
 It was agreed, that the whole body 
 should sally forth as the heroes of Water- 
 loo, in all the hurry, confusion, trepidation, 
 and valour, which belonged to that event- 
 ful hour, when, called on the instant from 
 the gay dance and splendid festival at 
 Brussels, men and officers ))lunged at 
 once into the awful duties and terrific con- 
 flict of that field, whose glorious results the 
 youth of Britain do well to remember, even 
 in their sports. 
 
 Pelhan) was of course to enact the Duke 
 of Wellington, Vivian the Marquis of An- 
 glesea; Oglethorpe was declared aid-de- 
 camp to the former ; and candidates innu- 
 merahle started up for the same office to 
 the latter. Indeed it was found that no
 
 160 THE RIDING- SCHOOL. 
 
 one had a taste for being a private ; and 
 the field-marshal distributed colonelcies 
 and majorities with a lavish hand, yet 
 stern, imperturbable countenance. Tresh- 
 am presented himself, begging to hold his 
 own father's rank on the field of Waterloo, 
 and this claim could not be refused, al- 
 though he was " a new boy ;" and it had 
 been already agreed, that as not more than 
 a fourth of the party could be mounted, 
 those of the longest standing should be 
 preferred as cavalry. 
 
 In consequence of this law, several 
 boys, utterly ignorant of the manage- 
 ment of a horse, or even a donkey, were 
 mounted, and as quickly floored, to the 
 great amusement of the infantry, who 
 never failed to set up a shout of derision, 
 when a dragoon oflticer had a misfortune ; 
 nor were there wanting several wags, who 
 tried to increase tlie number of such acci- 
 dents, under tlie idea that no serious mis- 
 chief could arise, so long as the doctor's
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 151 
 
 groom superintended their proceedings. 
 All were busy, bustling, and hajipy, save 
 poor Appleby, who, wliile he looked with 
 contempt on the steeds assembled, and 
 declared that not one was worth mounting, 
 yet suffered far greater mortification tlian 
 those wlio were spilled by the asses, from 
 perceiving that not a single place was 
 offered to him, even among the little-boy 
 squad of privates. Just as he was about 
 to retreat, for the purpose of collecting his 
 thoughts, and writing his important letter, 
 he saw Vivian enter, with a cap and cloak 
 en imUtaire, beckoning with his sword the 
 lovers of fun around him, and taking from 
 his pocket what appeared to be a letter, 
 from which, in a snuffling tone, he began 
 to read. 
 
 " Here you shall have a full, true, and 
 particular account and history of Mister 
 Marmaduke Milksop, shewing how the 
 tender pretty little dear was tied to his 
 mamma's apron-strings for above twelve
 
 152 THE HIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 long years, and rode on a little Highland 
 pony as big as a Welsh goat — here we go 
 up, up, up, and here we go down, down, 
 downy ; and telling as how he went to 
 school a great way off, where the naughty 
 boys all laughed at him, and went for to 
 say they were as good as he was, which 
 every body knows to be quite an impossible 
 thing ; and how he sent his mamma the 
 following beautiful and pathetic epistle, 
 all written in rhyme, which may be said 
 or sung." 
 
 " I didn't do any such thing — and I 
 won't hear such lies — and I'll tell the doc- 
 tor," roared out Appleby, with stentorian 
 lungs. 
 
 *' Sing it, Vivian, do sing it, that's a 
 good fellow," cried a score of voices as 
 they closely hemmed in the provoking 
 guesser of the treasured secret, who, now 
 springing on the horse-block, began to 
 drawl out in recitative the following 
 lines : —
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 153 
 
 Oh 1 mother most dear, 
 
 I cannot stay here, 
 For the boys are such mischievous elves, 
 
 That instead of respect, 
 
 I find nought but neglect. 
 As if I were a scrub like themselves. 
 
 Nay, I give you my word, 
 
 That if I were a lord. 
 And, alas ! I am only a squire, 
 
 Without learning and spirit, 
 
 And stuff they call merit, 
 1 never could get a step higher. 
 
 Then come, mother, come, 
 
 And take your boy home. 
 To chicken, and custard, and cake, 
 
 Or the scholars so bluffy, 
 
 The doctor so huffy. 
 The heart of your Joey will break. 
 
 " 'Tis false, 1 say, all false/' cried Ap- 
 pleby, in an ecstucy of indignation, the 
 moment he could be heard ; " 1 love the 
 doctor, and 1 scorn chickens and custard 
 as much as any body ; and I'm no more 
 of a Miss Nancy than any boy here."
 
 154 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 " No, that he is not," bawled Tresbam, 
 as be pushed into the circle ; " so far from 
 that, he is the best rider in his neighbour- 
 hood, a capital shot, a generous boy, too, 
 and good-natured enough. My papa al- 
 ways said he would be a very good boy, if 
 it were not for a little — a little " 
 
 " A little pride, a little ignorance, and 
 not a little self-conceit," said Pelham, ad- 
 vancing on an old grey horse, chosen for 
 its colour as his charger. " However, let 
 him be what he may, you are an honour 
 to your county ; and whilst I am at the 
 liead of affairs here, you shall never want 
 a friend." 
 
 "In that case, dear Pelham, let us 
 make every one happy to-day at least,'* 
 said Tresbam. 
 
 " Vivian, give me that paper," said Pel- 
 ham ; " I conclude you have no copy.** 
 
 *' None, upon the honour of a general ; 
 my effusions are unfortunately doomed to 
 die in their birtli."
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 155 
 
 " Here, Master Appleby, is the paper; 
 1 need not tell you to destroy it imme- 
 diately." 
 
 Appleby sprang forward to receive the 
 scrawl ; but ere he reached Pelham, he 
 threw his arms round Tresham's neck, and 
 so])bed out in great emotion — " Pray for- 
 give me, dear James — pray do forgive 
 me." 
 
 ** Hurra! hurra !" shouted Vivian, '' we 
 shall make a man of him yet." 
 
 " I should be very, very glad that you 
 would make any tinny of me," said the 
 humbled boy, struggling with his tears ; 
 '' yes, any thing, so that you would not 
 laugh at me, and put ' Mister' before my 
 name, and turn me into fun, and leave me 
 to myself." 
 
 "No more we will," said his late tor- 
 mentor, " if you drop your nonsensical 
 airs of self-importance. I don't doubt but 
 you were thought highly of in your fa- 
 ther's house, but we have no great men
 
 ]56 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 here, till they have fairly earned their 
 fame, which, I must tell you, is usually 
 up in the school, before it travels into the 
 play-ground ; and I need not tell you how 
 low you stand in the first-mentioned place. 
 If you are industrious and modest, and 
 merry withal, you will find Mapleton 
 House a pleasant home ; but if you play 
 braggadocia " 
 
 "But I won't do it. I did not mean 
 to do it. I only just wanted you all to 
 know who I was, and what I could do." 
 
 " And you began by undervaluing your 
 neighbour, though he was the son of a 
 brave officer, a real Waterloo soldier — 
 the very character every schoolboy ho- 
 nours, next to the kiiii; himself: and so 
 will you, when your head is clear of tlie 
 nonsense with which nurses, dependants, 
 and sycophants have filled it. But cheer 
 up ; you are not a fool, therefore will not 
 long remain a dunce. Osborne, my man, 
 can you take Appleby into your set ?"
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 157 
 
 " Most willingly," said the young scion 
 of nobility ; but just as he spoke, he was 
 thrown head-foremost from the braying 
 animal to which he had been appointed. 
 Appleby helped him up with the utmost 
 alacrity, and inquired after his injuries 
 with equal tenderness. Happily they were 
 very slight ; but Apj)leby added, with 
 much liumanity — " You had better not 
 mount him again : he has hurt the fetlock 
 joint, poor thing ! and is therefore res- 
 tive." 
 
 " I think my charger is little better 
 than his donkey," said Pelham, in a kind 
 and familiar tone ; " is any thing tlie 
 matter with him ?" 
 
 " Your groom, my Lord Duke, would 
 tell you that he is not right in the fore- 
 leg pastern, and is altogether spavined ; 
 but being blood, he carries it off hand- 
 somely. To my mind, the butcher's 
 black mare is far the best tit in the whole 
 muster."
 
 158 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 ''Then mount her, and follow me as 
 Sir Thomas Picton." 
 
 Appleby, proud and joyful, instantly 
 obeyed, and by his rapid movement and 
 good action, shewed that he had been 
 indeed accustomed to ride ; but he was so 
 afraid of being accused of exhibition, that 
 he hung down his head, blushed exces- 
 sively, and was altogether seen to disad- 
 vantage, until the floundering of the don- 
 keys near put his steed to his mettle, and 
 proved that he had all the characteristics 
 of a good sitter. 
 
 Tresham, anxious to support his own 
 assertion, and kindly disposed towards his 
 regained companion, failed not to call the 
 attention of Vivian, and even Pelham, to 
 the management and prowess of Appleby. 
 
 " Let him alone ; he knows what he's 
 about. Look how square he sits ! His 
 breast out — his legs easy — hand firm — 
 touch delicate ! Ah, ah ! you may frisk 
 and plunge, Mrs. Blackey, but you will
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 159 
 
 soon find your master ! There he comes 
 to easy, easy. Now trot her round, Ap- 
 pleby ; and then we shall be all right, and 
 ready to obey orders/^ 
 
 Happy in the consciousness that he had 
 wiped off the opprobrium of being a milk- 
 sop, and determined that he would prove 
 himself capable of being a scholar, Apple- 
 by's good humour returned ; whilst his 
 assumption of superiority was for ever dis- 
 carded ; and in a short time it appeared 
 surprising to himself, how he could ever 
 have entertained for a moment, in idea, 
 such an ignoble line of conduct as that of 
 quitting the school, where alone he could 
 be rendered wise and manly, in oi'der to 
 live at home in ignorance and stupidity, 
 the shame of his parents, and the jest of 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 When, a year afterwards, he passed the 
 IMidsummer vacation at Ap[)leby Hall, 
 every one was alike struck by his improved 
 manners, and his increased affections ; and
 
 160 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 they observed, with great truth, " that 
 the acquisitions of his mind were at least 
 equalled by those of his heart." They 
 were not previously aware, that vain con- 
 ceited children are rarely of an amiable 
 and loving nature, because their pride for- 
 bids the growth of gratitude in them, by 
 inspiring the belief that all kindness is 
 merely the proper tribute to their own 
 superiority. 
 
 So sensible was Appleby of the change 
 in himself, and the increased pleasure de- 
 rived from it, that he was never weary of 
 praising Mapleton House, and all con- 
 nected with it; but dearer, far dearer, 
 than all besides, was the kind Tresham, 
 who had rewarded good for evil, and de- 
 livered him from the bitterest sorrow he 
 had ever experienced. Many a time, in 
 the hours of their happy holiday inter- 
 course, he would remind him of those ob- 
 ligations which would otherwise have been 
 entirely forgotten, by saying, emphatically
 
 THE RIDING-SCHOOL. 161 
 
 — " Dear Tresham, surely I shall never 
 again become such a silly spoiled boy as I 
 once was, let the people about me flatter 
 as they may ? Do pray watch over me, 
 like a true friend, as you are ; and if ever 
 I am again likely to play the fool, remind 
 me of the Riding-School, and I am certain 
 the recollection will serve as a ' Cure for 
 Conceit.' " 
 
 TUh END. 
 
 J. BILLING, PRINTEB, WOKING.
 
 HOFLAND LIBRARY; 
 
 FOR 
 
 THE INSTRUCTION AND 
 AMUSEMENT OF YOUTH. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH PLATES. 
 Each volume handsomely bound in embossed scarlet cloth. 
 
 
 First Class, in 12nio. 
 
 Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 1. 
 
 Alfred Campbell ; or, 
 
 8. 
 
 Moderation. 
 
 
 Travels of a Young 
 
 9. 
 
 Patience. 
 
 
 Pilgrim. 
 
 10. 
 
 Reflection. 
 
 2. 
 
 Decision ; a Tale. 
 
 11. 
 
 Self Denial. 
 
 3. 
 
 Energy. 
 
 12. 
 
 Young Cadet ; or Tra- 
 
 4, 
 
 Farewell Tales. 
 
 
 vels in Hindostan. 
 
 5. 
 
 Fortitude. 
 
 13. 
 
 Young Pilgrim ; or, 
 
 6. 
 
 Humility. 
 
 
 Alfred Campbell's re- 
 
 7. 
 
 Integrity. 
 
 
 turn. 
 
 
 Second Class, in 1 
 
 8mo 
 
 . Price Is. 6d. 
 
 I. 
 
 Adelaide; or, Massacre 
 
 9. 
 
 Godmother's Tales. 
 
 
 of St. Bartholomew. 
 
 10. 
 
 Good Grandmother 
 
 2. 
 
 Affectionate Bro- 
 
 
 and her Offspring. 
 
 
 thers. 
 
 11. 
 
 Merchant's Widow 
 
 3. 
 
 Alicia and her Aunt ; 
 
 
 AND HER Young Fa- 
 
 
 or, Think before you 
 
 
 mily. 
 
 
 Speak. 
 
 12. 
 
 Rich Boys and Poor 
 
 4. 
 
 Barbadoes Girl. 
 
 
 Boys, and OtherTales. 
 
 5. 
 
 Blind Farmer and his 
 
 13. 
 
 The Sisters ; a Do- 
 
 
 Children. 
 
 
 mestic Tale. 
 
 6. 
 
 Clergyman's Widow 
 
 14. 
 
 Stolen Boy; an In- 
 
 
 AND her Young Fa- 
 
 
 dian Tale. 
 
 
 mily. 
 
 15. 
 
 William and his Un- 
 
 7. 
 
 Daughter - in - Law, 
 
 
 cle Ben. 
 
 
 her Father and Fa- 
 
 16. 
 
 Young Northern 
 
 
 mily. 
 
 
 Traveller. 
 
 8. 
 
 Elizabeth and her 
 
 17. 
 
 Young Crusoe; or, 
 
 
 three Beggar Boys. 
 
 
 Shipwrecked Boy.
 
 Jan. 1859. 
 
 % Catalogue 
 
 INSTllUCTIVK AND AMUSING 
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 INCLUDING THOSE 
 
 FORMERLY PUBLISHED BY CLARKE & CO. 
 
 (LATE DARTON &: HARVEY.) 
 
 LONDON : 
 AllTH UR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO. 
 
 2,-), PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 I Menzifs, Edinbiirrjfi.] {McGlashau, Dublin.
 
 This da}', in 18mo. cloth gilt, price 3s. 
 
 FALSE APPEAEANCES. 
 
 By MES. MACKAY. 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE "FAMILY AT HEATHERDALE."
 
 |iiistniciil)c aui) Jlnuising 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 ACKWORTH VOCABULARY, 
 
 or Ent;lish SpclliiiK Book ; with the Meaning attached to each 
 Word. Compiled for the use of Ackworth Scliocl. New Kdition, 
 18mo. cloth lettered. Price \s. Gd. 
 
 ART OF CHESS-PLAY.— A NEW TREATISE 
 
 OS THK (JAMK OF CMl'.SS. By GEonr.E Walklk, Esq. 
 Ninth Edition, 12mo. cloth lettered, reduced to 2* G</. 
 
 BARBAULD'S (Mrs.) LEVONS POUR DES 
 
 ENEANS, depuisl'ape de Deux Ans jusqu'A Cinq. Avec une 
 Interpretation Anglaise. New Edition. 18nio. cloth lettered. 
 Price 2.<. 
 
 BIRDS AND ANIMALS. 
 
 The Conversations of Little Henry and his Mother, &c. By 
 E. E. WiLLEMtNT. With Cuts. Fcap. clotli, 2s. 
 
 BOY (the) and THE BIRDS. 
 
 By Emily Taylor. With Sixteen fine Woodcuts, from Lasd- 
 seer's Designs. ICmo. gilt edges. Price 2^. Cd. 
 
 " A deUKhtlul book for chililren. The binU till of llu-ir habits to a little iti- 
 quirinv boy, «ho ioe* prepiiiK into their nl•^tl .iiul wntrhini: llieir doin;,-*. ami ■ 
 very pleasant »a) they have of tnlkinc, »ure t" enKUitf the vnunic roader't atten- 
 tion. The di'MKiii .ire prett), mid nicely cut on wood."— Sper/jfor. 
 
 CANADIAN CRUSOES ; 
 
 a Tale of the Rice Lake Plains. By Mrs. Traill, (late 
 Catharine Parr Strickland,) Authoress of "The Backwoods of 
 Canada," Sec. In foolscap, with numerous Ensiravintis. New 
 and Clieaper Edition, in foolscap, cloth, gilt edges. Price 5j. 
 Edited hy Agnes Stricklano. Hlustiated by Harvey. 
 •'This l» an extrrniely pleatinit and not very improbal-li- fiction. 1 he object 
 of the writiT lia< been to ineulcnte the virtuen of enrrk'V »'>d »elf rdiai.re under 
 circumstances i^f dllTiciilty and danxer. The book i» i'X<-efciini;l> well calculated 
 for childn-n. to whom Us intrreitinx content*, its hHiidsoiiii- appraianrc, and 
 livaiiliful illustrations Mill render it an acceptable present." — Tait'$ Maguttnt, 
 Hrpl. ISA'J. 
 
 "A very delightful book for yoimK reader*. The intereKt is deep and «ell 
 su«lamed, the .»t\le unifurnily a;;reeable and lively ; an.! the kn /wledite of thu 
 writer, who hns livid for »oine time on the llice Lake I'l.nik, tl'e ncene of the 
 jtorv, adds a. value to the book for renders of all aire*. Mr. Ilnrvey has con- 
 tributed some excrllciit \v6odculs, and the book is altogether a pretty anil in- 
 teresting one." — Guardian.
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 CHEMISTRY NO MYSTERY ; 
 
 being the Subject flatter of a Course of Lectures by Dr. Scoffcrn. 
 illustrated with Diagrams aud "VVoodcuts. Second Edition, 
 revised and corrected, with Index, price 3s. 6d. cloth lettered. 
 
 "A very agrpealile .icco\int of some of the leadins facts and iirincipU-s of 
 Chemistry', not only made plain to the meanest capacity, but attractive, we fhould 
 imagine, to the most idle youth, and amusing to all." — Spectalor. 
 
 " This work contains quite as much information as is requisite for any person 
 who does not intend to make Chemistry a professional or hobby-horsical pursuit. 
 The various information is conveyed in a clear and distinct manner, so ihat (he 
 dullest child can hardly fail to understand what it means. We recommend every 
 father to [lurchase this work for his children, unless they happen to be particularly 
 stupid. It does much credit to Mr. Scoffern, the author : ii is very well printed 
 and neatly hound."— Po/i'<ccA/i(c Journal, 
 
 COLA MONTI ; 
 
 or, the Story of a Geuius. A Tale for Boys. By the Author of 
 "How to Win Love." With Four Illustrations by Frakkhn. 
 In foolscap 8vo. cloth. Price 3s. 6d. 
 
 " No one pnssessins common srnslbility can read this book without a thought- 
 ful brow and a glisteninu e\"." — Chamhers' Edliibiiifch Journal. 
 
 " An exceedingly wfl!-told tale, which will intercut boys of all ages. * * * 
 As a holiday companion, feu l)or>k? would be more popular." — Enfilhh Churchmnn. 
 
 " A lively narrative ol school-hii\ adventures." 
 
 " .\ very charming and admirahly-written volume, * * » It is .adapted to 
 make boys better." 
 
 •' A simple and jdeasing story of school-boy life."— /o/ui BuU. 
 
 DECOY (the); 
 
 or, an Agreeable Method of Teaching Children the elementary 
 Parts of English Grammar. Price I5. sewed! 
 
 DOCTOR'S LITTLE DAUGHTER. 
 
 The story of a Child's Life amidst the Woods and Hills. By 
 Eliza Meteyard. In foolscap 8vo. price Is. Crf. elegantly 
 bound and gilt, with numerous Illustrations by Harvey. 
 
 " This is a very delishtful book, especially calculated for the amusement and 
 instruction of our youn?; friends; and is evidently the | roduction of a rij;ht- 
 th inking and accomplished nwA."— Church of England lifview. 
 
 " An elegant, interestin;;, and unobjectionable present tor young ladieR. The 
 moral of the book turns on benevolence." — Christian Timi'ii. 
 
 " This Story of a Child's Life is so full of beauty and meekness, that we can 
 hardly express our sense of its wortli in the words of common praise." — Non- 
 ' cnformist. 
 ^ •• This will be a Mioice present for the young."— B/i'»sA Quarterly fitvietr. 
 
 " The whole story is told with a nio'it touchinj; srace, and a golden glow of 
 ': poetry pervades it. The line designs of Harvey wliich illustrate the book, add 
 greatly to its attractivness, and we cannot entertain a douht of its becoming one 
 of the most popular volumes in the ' Children's Library.' " — Elisa Cook's Journal. 
 
 EARTH (the) and ITS INHA-RITANTS. 
 
 By Margaret E. Darton. Crown Svo*. cloth, with coloured 
 Frontispiece. Price bs. 
 
 AuTiiLK II \u., Virtue, & Co. 35, Paternostek Row,
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 i:i)GEWORTIl'S EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 New and cheaper Edition, fcap. cloth, 3*. 6il. or in Four Pocket 
 Volumes, price lOi. 
 
 ENGLISH STORIES of the OLDEN TIME. 
 
 By Maria Hack. A New Edition, AVith Vij.'nettes by 
 H A K V E Y . [lit prepay a tion. 
 
 " A popular History of EnslainI, from Alfred to Elizabeth, adapted to the 
 
 capacities of yuiiDK person*. The mailer is unexceptionable, and embodies a good 
 
 I (Ipal uf inforniation, valiiiible and interesting to juvenile readers, with adispas- 
 
 ; tinnalP and ju-t estimate of the characters of tlic persons, :ind the cau>es and 
 
 intlurnce ofevcnW." — SptctatOT. 
 
 \ EVENINGS AT HOME; 
 
 or, the Juvenile BudL'et opened. By Dr. Aiken and Mrs. 
 B.vRBAiLn. Sixteenth Edition, revised and newly arran;];ed by 
 AuTHtu AiKKN, Esq. and Miss Aiken. With Engravings by 
 Harvey. Fcap. Svo. Price 3j. G</. cloth. 
 
 LUVE, A REALITY, NOT ROMANCE. 
 
 In fcap. Cuts by CiiLUEUT. Price \s. Gd. cloih; or 2s. Gd. 
 handsomely bound, with gill edges. 
 
 " Few writers are moie indrfaticable in their ulTires of benevnlence than the 
 aii'.!iores> of this lU Kant tittle volume, who lias once more done herself iiillnite 
 credit by:i transcript of the realities of life, (ofdirly and truly made, as to uo lionie 
 to lie heart of every one who folloMs the tale to the rnnrliision. It m a huh gill 
 to l,r able to write well ; but it i* a far InKhtrraiul iii>t,lei- privilege to li.- known to 
 wriie usefully, and to the best of purpn.cs ; and this Mrs. Geldart ha» neverinore 
 vlTcctunlly done than id ' l.ove, a Keulity, not a ICuiiiaiire.'"— iJWi's iVcuriigtr. 
 
 MAY DUN HAS. Fcap. cloth. Price 25. Of/. 
 EMILIE, THE PEACE-MAKER. Fcap. cloth. Price 2<.GJ. 
 STOK I E.S OF SCOTLAND. Fcap. cloth. Price 25. G</. 
 THOUGHTS OF HOME. Fcap. cloth. Price 25. GJ. 
 TRUTH IS EVERYTHING. Third Edition. ISmo. cloth. 
 Price 1*. Gd. 
 
 GRECIAN STORIES. 
 
 By Maria Hack. With Thirty-ei;,'ht line Illustrations by 
 Gilbert, engraved by Wright and Folkarp. New Edition. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 •' Thc«e historical narratives are romponed on the popuUr plan of the enter- 
 t:iitiiiig and instructive stories of the autlioress relating l.i Ei>«land. They 
 will be vatuable. especially to the non-classicul, as an accurate picture ol 
 (ireecc, it* annals, nnd It* great utva' — Tuil't Haguriite 
 
 €) 
 
 Arthur \Iku.., Viktuf, & Co. 25, I'ateknoster Kow.
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 HEROINES OF THE MISSIONARY 
 
 ENTERPRISE; or, Sketches of Prominent Female Mission 
 aries. By Daniel C. Eddy. "With Preface bv the Rev. John 
 Gumming, D.D. Third Edition, in fcap. 8vo. Price Is. 6rf. cloth, 
 or 25. 6d. f;ilt edges. 
 
 " This is abook for the manv. .ind csnrmt f;iil ti> lie a sreat favoiiritp, especially 
 with the sex whose virtues and labours it ivcords."~lhitisU llanner. 
 
 HOWITT.— A BOY'S ADVENTURES IN THE 
 
 WILDS OF AUSTRALIA; or, Herbert's Note Book. By 
 William Howitt. With Designs by Harvey. New and 
 Cheaper Edition, price 2s. bds. ; or 45, cloth gilt. 
 
 " It is really the next thins; to a personal pilgrimage throu;;li tlie Golden 
 Land. In vivid portraiture ot thinus as they are, it far e.xcels every publication 
 that hns yet readied us from Australia."— B;i7!"s/( Umtner. 
 
 "All the boys in England, whether ' old boys ' or young ones, will rejoice in 
 this faseinating book, full of anecdote and wild adventure ; sober as we are and 
 little given to ro.niTi, it has inspired us w jth a strong desire to take a journey in 
 the Bush, if we eould see the end of it. The descriptions of the scenery, the 
 treeF, and tlie animals are extremely spirited and graiihic, — they have all the 
 app''arance of being written on the spot, and are redolent of the fresh open air. 
 We have very seldom read a bonk of travels that has charmed us so niueh, and 
 we shall consider that the young folks who find it lianiring on the bough of their 
 ' Christmas tree' are extremely fortunate." —Alhenfeum. 
 
 "As might be expected, they will tind not only interesting and amusing 
 incidents and descriptions, but a good deal of iiselul inforniat.on on the subject 
 of Australian life, among the natives as well as among emigrants There ar- 
 se veral woodcuts illustratinc; some of the most striking scenes, and the book will 
 take a high rankamong Christmas and New Yearpresents." — Eiiglhh Churchman, 
 
 " This is a capit.^l book, and will commend itself alike to young and old. 
 It is full of humour, adventure, excitement, and those incidt-nts of peril and 
 pleasure which seem indigenous to Australia. The gold-diggings, bush-rangers 
 and bush-fires— floods, robbers, and hunting 'scapes— all contribute their quota 
 to this interesting book. It is eniphaticallv a bov's book, and will be a very 
 acceptable Christmas-gift."— C/iwrcA and State Gazette. 
 
 " This book was written in the midst of the scenes it dfseribes, and has the 
 reality and vividness of actual experience and ,Tdventure. In the form of a boy's 
 journal, it pictures Australian scenes, and records the incidents of travel in the 
 bush. The natural history of the bush is very instructively and amusingly woven 
 
 into the story I,et us then commend it, to boys espeeinlly, as decidedly tirst- 
 
 rate— one of the best bookseverfurnishedfortheirgraiilication." — Nuticoninrmisl. 
 
 HOW TO WIN LOVE ; 
 
 or, Rhoda's Lesson. A Story Book for the Young. By the 
 Author of " :\Iichael tlie Miner," "Cola Jklonti," '&:c. With 
 Illustrations on Steel. Second Edition, in square ICmo. hand- 
 .somely bound in cloth. Price 25. Gd. with gilt edges. 
 
 " A very captivating story." — Motniin; Past. 
 
 " Truthfulness, descriptive talent, and pure luoralitv in evcrv line." — l.iteiary 
 Gazette. 
 
 " Just wliat a story for children ought to he."—Dnu!rlas.hrrald'sNeu'ipappr. 
 
 LADY MARY AND HER NURSE; or, a 
 
 PEiaMNTO THE CANADIAN F(mEST. By Mrs. Traill, 
 Author of " Canadian Crusoes." Illustrated by Harvey. Fcap. 
 cloth, 25. 6rf. ; or os. 6d. gilt edges. 
 
 Arthuu Hall, Virtue, & Co. 25, Patetinosttcr Row.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 LAWRENCE'S (Miss) STORIES FROM THE 
 OLD AN]) NEW TESTAMENTS. 
 
 New Edition, with Cuts. [In preparation. 
 
 MANUAL OF HERALDRY, 
 
 Beinp a concise Description of the several Terms used, and 
 conlaininfi a Dictionary of even,' Designation in the Science. 
 Illustrated by -lOO Enirravings on Wood. New Edition, in fcap. 
 8vo. Price 3s. in enihleniatic cover. 
 
 MANUAL OF rERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Illustrated l,y numerous Engravings. By N. Whittock. 
 Price \s. 6d. 
 
 MANUAL OF GEOGRAPHY, 
 
 Physical and Political. For the use of Schools and Families, 
 with (Juestions for Examination. By Edward Fahr, Author 
 of " History of England," &:c. Price l*. Cid. 
 
 " Tlioiish iirrfr^ctly frri- fnmi preti-nsinn, and iiroposeil only as an assistant tii 
 the mother or the ti'ach«'r, this little book is one ol' the best works on seneial 
 Keo;;rMp)iy that have eoinc uikIit our noliee for a U>nj; time. A carelul reailiii;! 
 of the more recent work* of stuti-stt anil travelh'rs is apparent in its pages. The 
 inrormation it well put to;;etlier, and llie severiil subjects are proHisely 
 lllustraied."— .^//irnif'UHi. 
 
 MY OLD PUPILS. 
 
 \Vith Four Illustrations on Wood. Square IGmo. Price 1*. hds. 
 or 2s. 6d. handsomely bound in cloth, with gilt edges. 
 
 MY YOUTHFUL COMPANIONS. 
 
 By the same Author. Willi Sloel Frontispiece. 18mo. cloth. 
 Price Gd. 
 
 NAOMI ; 
 
 or, tlie Last Days of Jerusalem. By Mrs. J. B. Webb. New 
 Edition, with Designs by (Gilbert, and View and Plan of Jeru- 
 salem. Fcap. 8vo. cloth lettered. Price"*. 6 J. 
 
 ■• One of the nio»t interesting works we have read for some time. The senti- 
 ments are appropriate, the style i< (.'raieful, and the tale Is well contilved. • ♦ • 
 We are not, then, siirpriserl at the popularity it has attained, it deserves it ; 
 and we rordinlly wish it fiiither sorreis."— .Ur/ro/io/iVdri. 
 
 ** It is in truth an admirable liitlr vidiime, and wi-U worthy of a yet more ex- 
 tensive p.itronnite than it I'as already received."— J/airf.<toiie/oijr»in/. 
 
 " Tne plot Is easy, natural, and well sustained. Tlie narrative is Rracefully 
 written . . . Seldom have we renil a tale better adnptcd for us purpose, or nioie 
 beautifully tuld." — Monthli/ Rtritur. 
 
 ARTHUn H.VLL, VlUTUK. Ji Co. 2b. L\TEIl>'OSlER KOW
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 NURSERY RHYMES. 
 
 New and Improved Edition, with Frontispiece. 18mo. cloth, 
 gilt, price Is. 6d. 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS FOR INFANT MINDS. 
 
 New and Improved Edition, with Frontispiece. In Two Vols. 
 ISmo. cloth, gilt, price Is. 6d. each. 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL CONVERSATIONS: 
 
 in which are familiarly explained the causes of many daily 
 occurring Natural Phenomena. By Frederick C. Bakewell. 
 Third Edition, with Cuts. Fcap. cloth lettered. Price 3s. 6d. 
 
 " We can most confidently reoommend the Philosophical Conversations to 
 heads of families, as a work at once highly amusing and instructive." — Birming- 
 ham Journal. 
 
 " Wa have seldom, if ever, met with so much instruction on curious and philo- 
 sophical subjects conveyed in a form so clear, so entertaining, and so perfectly 
 fri»e from the pedantry or affectation of learned technicalities. We shall be sur- 
 prised if this work does not speedily become the favourite rudimental manual of 
 Natural Philosophy in public seminaries and in private tuition." — Bath Herald. 
 
 " This is a very pleasing and lucid work, well adapted to allure young people 
 to the study of Natural Philosophy." — Leeds Mercury. 
 
 " We have perused this volume with much pleasure and improvement. It is a 
 w ork v,p can confidently recommend, especially to the heads of families, as from 
 the subjects selected, and the familiar stvle in which they are treated, it cannot 
 fail of proving both instructive and amusing." — Cambridge Chronicle. 
 
 PICTORIAL FRENCH & ENGLISH PRIMER. 
 
 With nearly One Hundred Engravings on Wood. New Edition. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 PICTORIAL SPELLING BOOK; 
 
 or. Lessons on Facts and Objects. With 130 Graphic Illustra- 
 tions. Fifth Edition. Price Is. in cloth. 
 
 PIPPIE'S WARNING ; 
 
 or, the Adventures of a Dancing Dog. By Cath.4rine Crowe, 
 Author of "Susan llapley," &c. AVith Cuts. Price Is. bds.; 
 or 2s. Qd. gilt edges. 
 
 PLEASANT PASTIME ; 
 
 or, Drawing-Room Dramas for Private Representation by tlie 
 Young. AVith Cuts. Price Is. bds. ; or 2s. 6d. with gilt edges. 
 
 Arthue Hau., ViKi'UE, iV (..o. -26, Paterkoster Row.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF MRS. ANDERSON'S 
 
 SniOOL. A Hook for Girls. By Jane Winnard Hoopkr. 
 lUustralu'd by FuANKLiN. Fcap. 8vo. Price 3*. Gii. clolli gilt_ 
 
 '• A pretty unpretentious volume, neatly embellished, and any in i's livery of 
 green aud ai«ld. Outside and in 'tis precist-ly the bfuu ideal ol' a prcsenl or a 
 prixe-book for a younjf lady. More frosli and more drliirhtful reading than this 
 book it has rarely been our t'orlune to iiict-t " — Morning Adceilitir. 
 
 " An annMini; series i>r descriptions likely to interest the young folks for whom 
 they are intencled." — Brprets. 
 
 " AUhouijh profissedly a ' book for pirls,' the volume is so interestin<; in itself 
 as to be calculati'il to give amusement to (hose who have attaineil a riper am-; 
 and, although there is nothinu' attempted beyond amusement, yet a liii;h moral is 
 fonveyed in its pa;:es. One word as to the 'iL'ettins up." The typnuraphy is 
 faultless, and the bindins; and Imish micU as to tit it especially for the place which 
 we sincerely hope it will be found largely to occupy — the drawing-room table." — 
 Bel/atl Meicunj. 
 
 " A young lady's experiences of a boarding school, which are related in a very 
 amusinx and natural manner." — Enalitk Cliuichtn/in. 
 
 '• This little s\ork is calculated to be exceedin:.'ly useful in forming the mmds 
 of female children. An old friend with a new face, and an open and a gay one 
 too." — Hell's Metitnger. 
 
 RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY. 
 
 Illustrated Edition, in lar;ie type, with Sixteen Fine Cuts by 
 CiiLB£RT. IGmo. cloth, gilt etitj'cs. Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 " The opt n clear type invites the yonni; reader to learn the story of the nice 
 litle picturek. Tliese verses fur cliildren have never bi-en surpassed— scarcely 
 equalled mdeed— for the happy imion i.f fanr-y and precept, the simplicity and 
 iiit- lligibility of the ideas an<l words, and the tluency and coiiciseness nf ilic 
 rhymes. The Mi«s Taylors arc the best nursery lyrisis after a.\\."—Si>eclatur. 
 
 RODWELL'S CHILD'S FIRST STEP TO 
 
 ENGLISH HISTORY. With many Cuts. New Edition, 
 revised by Julia Corner. ItJnio. cloth. 2s. 6d. 
 
 ROWBOTHAM'S (J., f.r.s..\.) DERIVATIVE 
 
 SPELLING BOOK, in wliirh the Orijiin of each Word is j,'iven 
 from the (ireek, Latin, Saxon, Gennan, Teutonic, Dutch. 
 French, Spanish, and other Lanuua),'es; witlt the Parts of 
 Sp'jech, and Pronunciation accented. 12uio. cloth. Price 1*. 6d. 
 
 ROWBOTIIAM'S GUIDE TO THE FRENCH 
 LANGUAGE AND CONVERSATION; 
 
 consistinp of Modern Frencli Dialofiues, with the Pronunciation 
 of the most dilTirult Words ; for the use of Schools, Tiavellcrs, 
 and Private Students. A New Edition, by De La Vove. Demy 
 18mo. Price 2s. 6d. handsomely bound in French morocco, 
 
 SCRIPTURE SITES AND SCENES, 
 
 from actual Survey, in E;,'ypt, Arabia, and Palestine. Illus- 
 trated by Seventeen Steel En^'ravin;;s, Three Maps, and Thirty- 
 seven Woodcuts. By W. II. Uaktj.ltt. Price 4s. post Svo. 
 cloth, gilt edges. 
 
 AuTiiuii Hall, Virtue, & Co. 25, rAiEUNosTEK How.
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 SELECT POETRY EOR CHILDREN ; 
 
 With brief Explanatory Notes, arranged for the use of Schools and 
 Famiiies. By Jostph Payne. Tenth Edition, corrected and 
 Enlarged. ISmo. Price 2s. Gd. cloth; or 3*. scarlet, gilt edges. 
 
 " A very nice little volume, containing a charming collection of poetry."— 
 Spectntor. 
 
 " We do not Ivnnw any other book that, in the same compass, contains such a 
 rich selection of pieces, that are at once sprightly and instructive, patlietic and 
 devout." — Congreuutional Mnsaxine. 
 
 " A very pleasing and suitable selection." — fVrxtmiiisier lievieir. 
 
 " It i- really a treat t) see anything so simply good as the little volume before 
 us." — Metropolitan Magazine. 
 
 STUDIES IN ENGLISH POETRY ; 
 
 Avith short Biographical Sketches, and Notes explanatory and 
 Critical, intended as a Text-Book for the higher Classes in 
 Schools, and as an Introduction to the Study of English Litera- 
 ture. Bv JosEPir Payne. New Edition, enlarged. 
 
 [Shortly. 
 
 " The plan and the execution are equally good; altogether it is an excellent 
 reailinsf book of poetry." — IVatchman. 
 
 " The work is deservin.' of Cdrnuiendation, as comprehending much that is 
 excellent — the very flowers and gems of En;;lisli poetry — and noti'.ing exception- 
 able." — Tail's Magisiiie. 
 
 " We can honestly recommend the volume to tl;e favour and con-ldence of our 
 readers." — Eel f die lierifw. 
 
 " Mr. Payne is entitled to the highest praise for the care bestowed on the 
 antiquated orthography of the earlier authors, and the ability and judgment dis- 
 played in the annexed notes throughout the volume." — The Student. 
 
 STRATAGEMS. 
 
 By Mrs. Newton Crossland (late Camilla Toulmin). "With 
 Cuts. Price Is. bds.; or 2s. 6d. gilt edges. 
 
 " A sweet tale, penned in a fair mood, and such as will make a rare giftfor a 
 child." — Sun. 
 
 TALES OF MANY LANDS. 
 
 By Miss M. Frazer Tytler, Author of "Tales of the Great 
 and Brave." Fcap. 8vo. cloth lettered. With Engravings and 
 Woodcut Illustrations. New Edition. [hi preparation. 
 
 " Sketches of common life, and traits of childish character, intermingled skil- 
 fully with pictures of foreign scenery ana nati(mal characteristics; and pathetic 
 stories, written with talent, anil in a manner to intt-rest youthful readers. Each 
 tale is illustrated by a clever wood engraving." — Spectator. 
 
 WAKEFIELD'S (Priscilla) FAMILY TOUR 
 THROUGH THE BRITISH EMPIRE, 
 
 A New Edition, revised and corrected to the present time. 
 With a Map. 12mo. cloth. Price 6*. 
 
 AnxiiuR IIai.i,, Virtue, & Co. 25, Paternoster Row.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 WINTER EVENINGS ; 
 
 or, Tales of Travellers. By JIaria Hack. A New and 
 llieaper Edition, with Illustrations by Gilbert. Feap. cloth. 
 I'rice 3«. Gm. 
 
 Arthur 11.\ll, Virtue, & Co. "25, I'aternoster Kow. 
 
 WAKEFIELD'S (Priscilla) JUVENILE 
 
 TRAVELLERS ; a Tour throughout Europe. A New Edition, 
 corrected to the present time. With a ^lap. 12mo. cloth. 
 Price 6s. 
 
 WAKEFIELD'S (Priscilla) INSTINCT i 
 
 DISPLAYED in the Animal Creation. A New and Revised 
 Edition, with many Additions to the original Work of Priscilla | 
 Wakefield. Foolscap 8vo. cloth lettered. New Edition. | 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 " A nice little work, in the shape of letters between t«o young ladies w ho are 
 induced to study natural history. Tne anecdotes are well selected, and told in a 
 simple and unaffected manner, which grc.itly enhances their value. The object 
 the authoress had in view is h\iniane, and her book ou^-ht to be in the hands uf 
 every child from eisht to twelve years of age." — Bn'sfol M<rcur<j. 
 
 WATTS'S (Dr.) DIVINE and MORAL SONGS 
 
 FOR CHILDREN. With Anecdotes and Refieotions, by the 
 Rev. Ingram Cobhin, MA. With Frontispiece and Fifty- 
 seven Woodcuts. New Edition. Price 1*. in cloth, or Is. Gd. 
 with gilt edges.
 
 u 
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 Burtnti k I^aruq's ^c^tihlirEtiniis. 
 
 Price Half-a-Cro\vn. 
 
 ALFRED DUDLEY; or, the' Australian Settlers. 
 
 Second Edition. With Nine Illustrations. Itimo. cloth lettered, 
 gilt edges. 
 
 BOY AND THE BIRDS. By Emily Taylor. 
 
 With Sixteen Fine Woodcuts, from Laxdseer's Designs. IGmo. 
 gilt edges. 
 
 CHARLIE'S DISCOVERIES; or, a Good Use for 
 
 Eyes and Ears. With many Cuts, by T. Williams. 16mo. 
 cloth, gilt edges. 
 
 CITY SCENES; or, a Peep into London. With 
 
 many Plates. 16mo. cloth lettered. 
 
 FOOTSTEPS TO NATURAL HISTORY. With 
 
 Cuts. Square IGmo. gilt edges. 
 
 HYMNS AND SKETCHES IN VERSE. By 
 
 M. F. TvTLKR. With fine Cuts. 16mo. cloth gilt. 
 
 Aktiixju Hall, Virtue, & Co. 25, Paternoster Row.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 DARTON AND HARVEY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Price Half-a-CrowTi— con/jMMt'rf. 
 LITTLE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE; containing \ 
 
 Useful Iiifornnatior. on Common Thin?s, for Young Children. 
 By Elizabeth G. Noveiire. With Eight elegant Illustra- 
 tions. IGnio. gilt edges. 
 
 NEW GIFT BOOK FOR YOUTH, 26 Illustrations, 
 
 squ.ire fancy covers. 
 
 OLD OAK CHEST ; or, a Book a Great Treasure. 
 
 By the Author of '* Charlie's Discoveries," &:c. AVitli Cuts. 
 IGmo. cloth gilt edges. 
 
 PAUL PERCIVAL ; or, the Yount? Adventurer. 
 
 16mo. cloth gilt. 
 
 RHY^IES FOR THE NURSERY. By the Authors 
 
 of " Original Poems." Illustrated Edition, in Large Tyjie. With 
 Sixteen fine Cuts, by Wkiciit, from Designs by Oilhert. 
 ICmo. cl«)th, gilt edges. 
 
 MY BOY'S FIRST BOOK, in- Miss .M. I ka/i.k 
 
 Tytler. With fine CuU. IGmo. cloth. 
 
 *' A prrtty llttlo one for rerj- yoiinz chililrrn, ronnUlinc of n niiml t of lalri 
 fiiU of intcrrkt, >i't all ti-nillni; to imiirovc tlip inorali of tli<< \>>iiihriil rr-idrr. 
 We reroinmrnil both thp»r worki u> prraititt t» all irooil rlnl Irni.' — M.no. 
 politan MfignMiuf. 
 
 PICTOia.VL :\[USEU^r. Thirty Illustrations. 
 
 Square, fancy Covers. 
 
 THE YOUNG NATURALIST'S BOOK of BIRDS. 
 
 By Percy B. St. John. A New Edition, with Sixteen Wood 
 Engravings, by Folkard and WHiMrrR. Sq'iare leir.o. -zflt. 
 
 9 
 
 ArTHTR TTaLL, VlTtTTJE, & Co. 2.5, i'ATi-U.MJ.STKli iiow.
 
 ^ ^Q^ 
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 DARTON AND HARVEY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Price Two Shillings. 
 
 COTTAGE in the CHALK-PIT. Bj C. A. Mant. 
 HACK'S STORIES OF ANIMiVLS. lu Two Yols. 
 
 Adapted for Children from Three to Ten. With Illustrations. 
 
 HENDEY'S HISTORY OE GREECE. In Easy 
 
 Lessons. Adapted to Children from Six to Ten years of Age, 
 With Illustrations. 
 
 HENDRY'S HISTORY OE ROxME. In Easy Les- 
 
 sons. Adapted for Children from Six to Ten years of Age. 
 With Illustrations. 
 
 LIMED TWIGS TO CATCH YOUNG BIRDS. 
 
 By the Authors of " Original Poems." ISmo. cloth lettered. 
 
 OPEN AND SEE ; or, Eirst Reading Lessons. By 
 
 the Author of "Aids to Development," &c. &c. With Twenty- 
 four Engravings on Wood. 
 
 ROBINSON CRUSOE. With Illustrations. ISmo. 
 
 cloth. 
 
 RURAL SCENES; or, a Peep into the Country. 
 
 A New and Revised Edition, with Eighty-eight Cuts. Cloth 
 lettered. 
 
 SANDEORD AND MERTON. With Cuts. 
 
 -© 
 
 Artuur Hall, Virtue, & Co. 25, Paternostfr Row.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 DARTON AND HARVEY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Price One Shilling. 
 
 In Plain Strong Bindings. 
 
 HARRY BEAUFOY; or, the Pupil of Nature. 
 
 By Maria Hack. A New Edition, with Cuts by Lanuseer. 
 
 ^ JUVENILE ANECDOTES; or, Stories of Children. 
 
 By P. Wakefield. A New Edition. 
 
 LITTLE BOOK OF KXOWLEDGE. Eiglit Cuts. 
 LITTLE BOOK OF OBJECTS. Many Cuts. 
 
 OLD OAK CHEST. Cuts. 
 
 ROAD TO LEARNING; or, Orij,-inal Lessons in 
 
 Words of One and Two Syllables. 
 
 WILLIE ERASER ; or, tlic Little Scotch Bov : and 
 
 other Tales. By Mrs. R. Lee. With Four Illustrations. 
 Abthur Hall, Virtck, & Co. 25, Patehngster Row.
 
 O) — 
 
 THE 
 
 HOFLAND LIBRARY; 
 
 FOR THE 
 
 INSTRUCTION AND AMUSEMENT OF YOUTH. 
 
 lilustrated witli Plates, and liaudsomely Bound in Embossed 
 Scarlet Cloth, witli Gilt Edees, &c. 
 
 FIRST CLASS, in Umo.— Price 2s. 6(1. 
 
 1. Memoir of the Life and 
 
 Literary Remains of 
 JIrs. Hofland. By T. 
 Ramsat, Esq. With 
 Portrait. 
 
 2. Alfred Campbell; or, 
 
 Travels of a Young Pilgrim. 
 
 3. Decision; a Tale. 
 
 4. Energy. 
 
 5. Humility. 
 
 C. Int3:grity. 
 
 7. Mod K ration. 
 
 8. Patience. 
 
 9. Reflection. 
 
 10. Self-Denial. 
 
 11. Young Cadet; or, Travels 
 
 in Hindostan. 
 
 12. Young Pilgrim; or, Alfred 
 
 Campbell's Return. 
 
 SECOND CLASS, in ISmo— Price Is. 6d. 
 
 1. Adelaide; or, Massacre of St. Bartholomew. 
 
 2. Affectionate Brothers. 
 
 3. Alicia and her Aunt; or, Think before j'ou Speak. 
 
 4. Barbados Girl. 
 
 5. Blind Farmer and his Children. 
 
 6. Clergyman's Widow and her Young Family. 
 
 7. Daughter-in-law, her Father, and Family. 
 S. Elizabeth and her three Bkggar Boys. 
 
 9. Good Grandmother and her Offspring. 
 
 10. Merchant's Widow and her young Family. 
 
 11. Rich Boys and Poor Boys, and other Tales. 
 
 12. The Sisters; a Domestic Tale. 
 1". Stolen Boy; an Indian Tale. 
 
 14. William and his Uncle Ben. 
 
 15. Young Crusoe; or, Shipwrecked Boy. 
 
 Arthur Hall, Virtue & Co. 25, Paternoster Uovr. 
 
 J. 
 
 R. CLAY, printer, BREAD STREET HILt.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 INIA 
 
 .a 'AQCRl^KTOAA'rn
 
 000 016 893
 
 THE 
 
 BOriAND 
 
 IIBRMY. ^ 
 
 1 
 
 to 
 
 1 
 
 
 < 
 
 1 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 Hi 
 
 i 
 
 H 
 1 
 
 i iiiii i 
 III 
 
 1 mk 
 
 W 
 
 
 ^1 
 
 1