*, .% * i\ f . ,*
 
 O'CSB tlBRARY 
 
 * * *

 
 _\>u- Ybrlv. Harper * Brothers.

 
 FRANK. 
 
 MARIA EDGEWORTH. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET. 
 
 1842.
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 IN offering these little books to those kind mothers 
 who attend to the early instruction of their children, the 
 authors beg leave to prefix a few observations on early 
 education which have occurred to them since the for- 
 mer parts of these books were published. 
 
 We found, to our high gratifications, during a visit 
 which we lately paid to England, that the attention of 
 parents, in every rank of society, was turned to the early 
 education of their children. 
 
 Formerly a child was left, during the first eight or ten 
 years, to chance, in every part of its education except 
 its book and keeping its clothes clean the mother or 
 the nursery-maid attended to the latter, for their own 
 sakes the father, remembering the praise that had been 
 bestowed upon himself when he was a child, was anx- 
 ious that his son should learn to read as soon as possible. 
 
 The object was to cram children with certain com- 
 monplaces of knowledge, to furnish them with answers 
 to ready-made questions, to prove that the teacher, 
 whether parent, schoolmaster, or private tutor, had kept 
 the pupil's memory, at least, at hard work, and had con- 
 fined his limbs and his mind, for many hours in the day, 
 to study. 
 
 At present, the attention of parents is more extended ; 
 they endeavour to give their pupils reasonable motives 
 for industry and application. They watch the tempers 
 and dispositions of children ; they endeavour to Culti- 
 vate the general powers of the infant understanding, in- 
 stead of labouring incessantly to make them reading, 
 writing, and calculating machines. 
 
 To assist them in these views, parents have now a 
 number of excellent elementary books. Such a variety 
 of these have of late years been published, that, by a 
 proper use of them, more general knowledge can be now 
 acquired by a child, with two hours' daily application, 
 than could have been acquired, fifty years ago, by the 
 constant labour of ten hours in the four-and-twenty. 
 , There are persons who think that the ease with which
 
 8 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 knowledge is thus obtained, and its dispersion through 
 the wide mass of society, are unfavourable to the ad- 
 vancement of science ; that knowledge easily acquired 
 is easily lost ; that it makes scarcely any salutary im- 
 pression upon the mind, impeding, instead of invigora- 
 ting it's native force : they assert that the principal use 
 of early learning is to inure the young mind to applica- 
 tion ; and that the rugged path of scholastic discipline 
 taught the foot of the learner to trade more firmly, and 
 hardened him to bear the labour of climbing the more 
 difficult ascents of literature and science. 
 
 Undoubtedly, the infant mind should be inured to 
 labour ; but it can scarcely be denied, that it is better to 
 bestow that labour upon what is within the comprehen- 
 sion of a child, than to cram its memory with what must 
 be unintelligible. A child is taught to walk upon smooth 
 ground ; and no persons in their senses would put an in- 
 fant on its legs for the first time on rugged rocks. 
 
 It seems to be a very plain direction to a teacher, to 
 proceed from what is known to the next step which is 
 not known ; but there are pedagogues who choose the 
 retrograde motion of going from what is little known to 
 what is less known. Surely a child may be kept em- 
 ployed, and his faculties may be sufficiently exercised, 
 by gradual instruction on subjects suited to his capacity, 
 where every step advances, and where the universal and 
 rational incentive to application, success, is perceived 
 by the learner. 
 
 So far from thinking that there is a royal road to any 
 science, I believe that the road must be long, but I do 
 not think it need be rugged : I am convinced that a love 
 for learning may be early induced, by making it agree- 
 able ; that the listless idleness of many an excellent 
 scholar arises, not from aversion to application, but from 
 having all the family of pain associated with early in- 
 struction. By pain I do not merely mean the pain of 
 corporeal correction, or of any species of direct punish- 
 ment. Even where parents have not recourse to these, 
 they often associate pain indissolubly with literature, 
 by compelling children to read that which they cannot 
 understand. One of the objects of this address ta 
 mothers is to deprecate this practice, and to prevent this 
 evil in future. Let me most earnestly conjure the pa- 
 rents and teachers into whose hands these volumes, 
 may come, to lay any of them aside immediately that is
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 9 
 
 not easily understood; a time will come when that 
 which is now rejected may be sought for with avidity. 
 I am particularly anxious upon this subject, because we 
 have found from experience, that the "Early Lessons" 
 are not arranged in the order in which, for the facility 
 of the learner, they ought to be read. In fact, the order 
 in which they were first published was the order of time 
 in which they were written, and not of the matter which 
 they contained. The first part of Harry and Lucy was 
 written by me thirty-four years before Frank and Ros- 
 amond were written by my daughter. Frank is the 
 easiest to be understood, and should, therefore, have 
 come first ; after Frank, the first part of Harry and 
 Lucy ; then Rosamond ; and, lastly, the second part of 
 Harry and Lucy, which was written long after the first 
 part had been published. This latter part should not be 
 put into the hands of pupils before they are eight years 
 old. We have heard children say, " We love little Frank, 
 because it is easy ; but we hate Harry and Lucy, because it 
 is difficult." We defer implicitly to their opinion; well- 
 educated children are, in fact, best judges of what is fit 
 for children. 
 
 Moliere's hackneyed old woman was not so good a 
 critic of comedy as a child of eight years old might be 
 of books for infants. 
 
 Whenever, therefore, a child, who has in general a 
 disposition for instruction, shows a dislike for any 
 book, lay it aside at once, without saying any thing upon 
 the subject ; and put something before him that is more 
 to his taste. For instance, in the following books, dif- 
 ferent parts of them are suited to the tastes of different 
 children, as well as to children of different ages. It is 
 therefore strongly recommended to parents to select 
 what they find upon trial to be the best for their imme- 
 diate purpose, and to lay aside the rest for another op- 
 portunity. We have repeatedly heard parents and 
 teachers complain of the want of books for their pupils : 
 can there be a better proof of the general improvement 
 that has taken place of late years in the modes of in- 
 struction, than this desire for early literature ? When I 
 was a child, I had no resource but Newberry's little 
 books and Mrs. Teachum ; and now, when every year 
 produces something new and something good for the 
 supply of juvenile libraries, there is still an increasing 
 demand for children's books. In a selection of this
 
 10 
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 sort, teachers of prudence and experience are cautious 
 not to be deceived by a name, or by an alluring title- 
 page : they previously examine what they put into the 
 hands of their scholars ; they know that want of infor- 
 mation in a child is preferable to confused and obscure 
 instruction ; that for their pupils to know any one thing 
 well, and to be able to convey to others, in appropriate 
 language, the little knowledge which they may have ac- 
 quired, is far preferable to a string of ready made an- 
 swers to specific questions, which have been merely 
 committed to memory ; that an example of proper 
 conduct, of a noble sentiment, the glow of enthusiasm 
 raised by a simple recital of a generous action, have 
 more influence upon the tempers and understandings 
 of children than the most pompous harangues of studied 
 eloquence. 
 
 In choosing books for young people, the enlightened 
 parent will endeavour to collect such as tend to give 
 general knowledge, and to strengthen the understanding. 
 Books which teach particular sciences or distinct 
 branches of knowledge should be sparingly employed. 
 In one word, the mind should be prepared for instruction ; 
 the terms of every art and every science should, in 
 some degree, be familiar to the child, before any thing 
 like a specific treatise on the subject should be read. 
 
 It is by no means our intention to lay down a course 
 of early instruction, or to limit the number of books that 
 may in succession be safely put into the hand of the pu- 
 pil. Mrs. Barbauld's " Lessons for Children from three 
 to four years old" have obtained a prescriptive pre- 
 eminence in the nursery. These are fit for a child's 
 first attempts to read sentences ; and they go on in easy 
 progression to such little narratives as ought to follow. 
 Her eloquent hymns may next be read. They give an 
 early taste for the sublime language and feelings of de- 
 votion. Scriptural stories have been selected in some 
 little volumes ; these may succeed to Mrs. Barbauld's 
 Hymns. No narrative makes a greater impression upon 
 the mind than that of Joseph and his brethren : not the 
 story of Joseph, expanded and adorned by what is falsely 
 called fine writing : but the history of Joseph in the 
 book of Genesis. 
 
 When children can read fluently, the difficulty is not 
 to supply them with entertaining books, but to prevent 
 them from reading too much, and indiscriminately. To 
 give them only such as cultivate the moral feelings, and
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. H 
 
 create a taste for knowledge, while they at the : same 
 time amuse and interest. A few, and quite sufficient for 
 this purpose, may be named ; for instance, " Fabulous 
 Histories ;" " Evenings at Home ;" " Berquin's Chil- 
 dren's Friend ;" " Sandford and Merton ;" " Little Jack ;" 
 "The Children's Miscellany;" "Bob the Terrier;" 
 "Dick the Pony;" "The Book of Trades;" "The 
 Looking-glass, or History of a young Artist ;" " Robin- 
 son Crusoe ;" " The Travels of Rolando ;" a book which 
 I mention with some hesitation, because, though it con- 
 tains much knowledge, collected from various authors, 
 yet it is too much mixed with fiction. " Mrs. Wake- 
 field on Instinct" I name with more confidence, because 
 the facts and the fiction are judiciously separated ; so 
 that the reader is in no danger of mistaking truth for 
 falsehood. To this juvenile library, perhaps, may be 
 added parts of " White's Natural History of Selbourne ;" 
 and parts of " Smellie's Philosophy of Natural History." 
 
 These books are not here named in the order in which 
 they should be read ; that must vary according to the 
 tastes and capacities of the pupils, and according to va- 
 rious accidental circumstances which it is impossible to 
 foresee or enumerate. But here it is necessary to ob- 
 serve, that scarcely any one of these books will proba- 
 bly be suited in every part to any child. Children 
 should not be forced to read any book through, but suf- 
 fered to pass over what they do not understand, and to 
 select that which suits their tastes, which will generally 
 be found to be what they perfectly comprehend. There 
 is no danger that this permission should lead to a taste 
 for desultory reading, if the pupils are confined to a cer- 
 tain collection of books. They will, at different ages, 
 and as their knowledge enlarges, recur to those parts 
 of the books which they had rejected ; and, the taste for 
 reading increasing, they will, in time, become perfectly 
 acquainted with every thing worth their attention in 
 their juvenile library. 
 
 For instance, that excellent work, " Evenings at 
 Home," contains lessons and narratives suited to dif- 
 ferent capacities, from seven or eight to twelve or thir- 
 teen years of age. It would be highly injurious to the 
 work and to the young readers to insist, or even to per- 
 mit, that the whole should be perused at an age when 
 the whole cannot be understood. The same may be 
 said of " The Children's Friend," and of " Sandford and 
 Merton," the last volume of which is suited to young
 
 12 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 men at college ; while parts of the first too are fit for 
 children of seven or eight, and other parts for ten or 
 twelve years old. In these books, the selection may be 
 safely trusted to the young readers : in others, the selec- 
 tion must be made by the parent or teacher ; for in- 
 stance, in " Smellie's Philosophy of Natural History," 
 where there will be found many entertaining and in- 
 structive facts, suited to children from eight to ten 
 years, mixed with a great deal both of what they cannot 
 understand, and of what they ought not to read. 
 
 The " Book of Trades" we have just mentioned as a 
 most useful book, and it should always precede Joyce's 
 " Scientific Dialogues." Mr. Joyce has contributed 
 much to the ease of scientific instruction ; and parents 
 should do the author the justice not to put his books 
 too early into the hands of children. 
 
 But no book on scientific subjects that has yet fallen 
 into our hands exceeds Mrs. Marcet's " Chymical Dia- 
 logues." Some of the facts which it contains will un- 
 doubtedly be remembered : but it is not for the chymical 
 facts that this book is so highly valuable, as for the 
 clear and easy reasoning by which the reader is led 
 from one proposition to another. I speak from expe- 
 rience : one of my children had early acquired such an 
 eager taste for reading, as had filled her mind with a mul- 
 titude of facts, and images, and words, which prevented 
 her from patient investigation, and from those habits of 
 thinking and that logical induction without which no 
 science, nor any series of truths, can be taught. The 
 " Chymical Dialogues" succeeded in giving a turn to 
 the thoughts of my pupil, which has produced the most 
 salutary effects in her education. Romantic ideas, po- 
 etic images, and some disdain of common occupations, 
 seemed to clear away from her mind ; and the chaos of 
 her thoughts formed a new and rational arrangement. 
 The child was ten years old at the time of which I 
 speak, and from that period her general application has 
 not been diminished ; but whatever she reads, poetry, 
 history, belles lettres, or science, every thing seems to 
 find its proper place, and to improve while it fills her 
 mind. 
 
 There is still wanting a series of little books prepar- 
 atory to Joyce's " Scientific Dialogues." No attempt, 
 humble as it may appear, requires more skill or pa- 
 tience, nor could any thing add more effectually to the 
 general improvement of the infant understanding, than
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 13 
 
 such a work. The elementary knowledge which such 
 books should endeavour to inculcate, must be thinly 
 scattered in entertaining stories; not with a view to 
 teach in play, but with the hope of arresting, for a few 
 moments, that volatile attention which becomes tired 
 with sober, isolated instruction. 
 
 Some years since, I wrote "Poetry Explained for 
 Children," and I have found it highly useful in my own 
 family. It has not, however, been much called for. It 
 is therefore reasonably to be supposed that it has not 
 been well executed. 
 
 Such a book is certainly wanting; and, if it became 
 popular, it would be of more service in education than 
 parents are well aware of. Nothing is earlier taught to 
 children than extracts from poetry ; they are easily got 
 by heart. If a child have a tolerable memory, a good 
 ear, and a pleasing voice, the parents are satisfied, and 
 the child is extolled for its recitation. Nine times out 
 of ten, the sense of what is thus got by rote is neg- 
 lected or misunderstood, and the little actor acquires 
 the pernicious habit of reading fluently and committing 
 to memory what he does not comprehend. There is 
 still something worse in this practice. The understand- 
 ing is left dormant, while the memory is too much 
 exercised; whereas the object most desirable is to 
 strengthen the memory, only by storing it with useful 
 and accurate knowledge. 
 
 Parents are usually anxious to teach history early. 
 This should not be done at all, or should be done with 
 great caution. There are certain well-known volumes 
 of Mrs. Trimmer's, with prints of Grecian, Roman, and 
 English History, which are useful to impress the princi- 
 pal facts in history on the minds of children ; and we 
 have lately met with some tiny volumes, under the name 
 of Alfred Miles's* " Pictures of English, and of Roman, 
 and Grecian History." The miniature prints in these are 
 far superior to what are usually met with in such books ; 
 and the language and selection of the facts in these 
 minikin histories, are in general excellent. Abridg- 
 ments of history, such as Cooper's short History of 
 England and France, Goldsmith's of Greece and Rome, 
 Lord Woodhouselee's excellent book, or any others, 
 
 * There is an odd omission, which should be noticed, in Mr. Al- 
 fred Miles's tiny History of England he omits the life, and records 
 only the death, of Charles the First. 
 2
 
 14 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 which merely give the events, without mixture of polit- 
 ical reflections, may be read between the ages of eight 
 and ten ; but it is absurd to put Hume, Robertson, Ma- 
 cauley, Gibbon, or any of our philosophical historians' 
 works, into the hands of children. All that should or 
 can be done effectually, is to give the young pupils a 
 clear view of the outline of history, and to fix in their 
 memories the leading facts in the proper order of time. 
 For this purpose there are several genealogical and his- 
 torical charts that may be useful, even at the early age 
 of nine or ten ; Le Sage's chart contains the fullest, 
 and " Stork's Stream of Time" by far the clearest view 
 of chronology and history. There are some careless 
 omissions in these, which will probably be remedied in 
 future editions. Priestley's Charts of History and of 
 Biography can never be obsolete. To me, his Chart 
 of History is not so clear either as Le Sage or as the 
 Stream of Time : but I hear, from those whose judgment 
 I respect, that it conveys to their minds a clear and 
 comprehensive view of its subject. 
 
 For the purpose of fixing in the minds of children a 
 few of the leading facts of history, chronology, and 
 geography, I think the technical help of what is called 
 artificial memory may be safely employed. The suc- 
 cession of Roman emperors, of English kings, the large 
 geographical divisions of the world, the order of the 
 principal inventions and discoveries such as those of 
 gunpowder, printing, and the mariner's compass; the 
 discovery of America, and of the passage to India by 
 the Cape of Good Hope, &c., may be chronologically 
 stored in the memory, without injury to the under- 
 standing. Without encumbering the recollective fac- 
 ulty, twenty or thirty of Gray's memorial lines may, 
 when selected, be easily committed to memory. They 
 should be recited merely as jargon till they are per- 
 fectly learned by rote : then the use of the letters in the 
 terminations of the words, which express the dates, 
 should be explained, and the pupil should be practised 
 in the use of these : they should be frequently referred 
 to in conversation ; the children should be called upon, 
 and made ready in the use of their numerical symbols, 
 and, at the same time, made sensible of the advantage 
 of the knowledge they have thus acquired. 
 
 Any farther than this, I would avoid technical memory. 
 Among the ancients, it might, in some degree, supply 
 Ihe want of printed books of reference ; but, in our days,
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 15 
 
 when knowledge of every sort that has been hitherto 
 acquired may be immediately referred to in every com- 
 mon library, or in the shop of every bookseller, it 
 is needless to load the memories of children with an- 
 swers to every possible question in geography and his- 
 tory, and with all such learning as is to be found in task- 
 books. 
 
 Before I quit the subject, I may be permitted to sug- 
 gest to those who are composing or who intend to com- 
 pose elementary books for children, that what is purely 
 didactic, and all general reflections, ought, as much as 
 possible, to be avoided. Action should be introduced. 
 Action! action! Whether in morals or science, the 
 thing to be taught should seem to arise from the cir- 
 cumstances in which the little persons of the drama are 
 placed; and on the proper manner in which this is man- 
 aged will depend the excellence and success of initia- 
 tory books for children. Entertaining story or natural 
 dialogue induces the pupil to read ; but, on the other 
 hand, unless some useful instruction be mixed with this 
 entertainment, nothing but mere amusement will be 
 acceptable, and it will be difficult to bring the attention 
 to fix itself, without dislike, upon any serious subject. 
 
 In fact, early instruction I may trust my own expe- 
 rience in the education of a large family early instruc- 
 tion depends more upon oral communication than upon 
 the books, either tasA>books or books of amusement, 
 that can be found for them, or perhaps that can be writ- 
 ten. Books should be used to recall, arrange, and im- 
 print what is learned by the senses ; they will please the 
 more when they give back the images that have been 
 slightly impressed upon the memory. 
 
 I know that it is much easier to point out what is de- 
 sirable, than to show distinctly the means of accom- 
 plishing our wishes. How to fill up, from day to day, 
 the aching void in the little breasts of children, is a 
 question that cannot be easily solved. When I recom- 
 mend teaching as much as possible by oral instruction, 
 I have this grand difficulty full in my view ; but I hope 
 to point out that means may be found by which, in 
 some degree, it may be obviated. There is scarcely 
 any object which a child sees or touches, that may not 
 become a subject for conversation and instruction. 
 
 For instance, is the mother dressing ? the things on 
 her dressing-table are objects of curiosity to the child. 
 The combs are of different sorts horn, ivory, box, and
 
 16 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 tortoise-shell. How can the horns of a cow be made 
 flat so as to be cut into the shape of a comb ] What is 
 ivory t and where is tortoise-shell to be had ? A cane- 
 bottom chair frequently catches the attention of a child 
 it may be made a first lesson in weaving. At break- 
 fast, how many objects for instruction ! 
 
 The water in a basin reflects the sun its image 
 dances from place to place, as the water moves. A 
 spoon reflects the face, distorted to a frightful length ; 
 if turned in another direction, the face becomes ridicu- 
 lously short. The steam rises from the urn the top is 
 forced off the tea-urn or the water bursts from the 
 spout of the teakettle. The child observes that the water 
 rises in a lump of sugar that is dipped in the tea. The 
 cream swims on the top of the tea milk mixes with it 
 more readily than cream. At dinner, the backbone, and 
 fins, and gill of a fish, every bone and joint of a fowl or 
 hare, or of any joint of meat, afford subjects of remark ; 
 and all these things, though but very little should be said 
 of them at one time, may by degrees be made subser- 
 vient not only to amusement, but to the acquisition of 
 real knowledge. 
 
 It is by no means intended to recommend that lectures 
 should be spoken at every meal, or that the appetites 
 of infants should be made to wait for an explanation of 
 whatever they feed upon it is only suggested, that the 
 commonest circumstances of life, and the commonest 
 objects that occur, may become the means of teaching 
 useful facts, and, what is of more consequence, habits 
 of observation and reasoning. It will be objected, 
 that, although the subjects which are here alluded to 
 are familiar and of daily occurrence in families of all 
 ranks, parents themselves are frequently not sufficiently 
 capable of giving the instruction which is required. 
 
 To this it may be answered, that scarcely any parents 
 are so situated that they may not, without effort, acquire, 
 from time to time, the little knowledge which they wish 
 to communicate at least so far as is requisite to excite 
 and support the curiosity of their pupils. 
 
 All this may be easily effected by the higher classes 
 of parents, who have leisure to attend to their children ; 
 and those parents who have not time themselves to 
 pursue this course of tuition, may find proper assistants 
 at no great expense. There are in England many per- 
 sons who would be suited to such situations widows,
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 17 
 
 and elderly unmarried women, who are above the station 
 of ordinary domestics, and yet are not sufficiently in- 
 structed, or accomplished, to become governesses. Such 
 persons might be employed to take the early care of 
 children, while the lower offices of the nursery-maid 
 might be performed by common, uneducated servants. 
 No person should daily or hourly converse with chil- 
 dren, or should have power over them, or any share in 
 the management of their minds, who does not possess 
 good temper, and a certain degree of good sense. Ac- 
 complishments, learning, or even much information, in 
 the usual sense of the word, will be unnecessary for the 
 kind of assistants here described ; but the habit of speak- 
 ing good language, and in a good accent, is indispensa- 
 ble. All the knowledge requisite for explaining com- 
 mon objects, to children from six to eight years old, 
 may be gradually acquired, as occasion calls for it 
 daily ; and good sense, with a little practice, will soon 
 teach the teacher how to manage instruction in conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 In families of less affluence, where this subordinate 
 governess or attendant cannot be afforded, and where 
 the mother cannot secure a friend to assist her, or has 
 not an elder daughter to take a part in the care of the 
 younger ones, the mother must give up more of her 
 own time to her children than is usual or agreeable, or 
 else she must send them to school. 
 
 Here recurs the difficulty of finding schools where 
 children can be rationally taught ; that is to say, where 
 distinct and useful knowledge may be clearly conveyed 
 to their understandings, without unnecessary confine- 
 ment, slavish habits, or corporeal correction. To keep 
 children poring overbooks that they cannot understand, 
 or casting up sums without making them acquainted 
 with the reasons for the roles which they mechanically 
 follow, is all that can be expected from a common 
 schoolmaster, or, to speak more properly, from a com- 
 mon school. Parents send young children to school, 
 not only to learn what is professed to be taught, but 
 also to keep their troublesome infants out of harm's way. 
 Were the schoolmaster ever so much enlightened or 
 ever so well disposed, he must comply with the expec- 
 tations of parents he must keep his scholars apparently 
 at work for a given number of hours, or he cannot satisfy 
 his employers. 
 
 What is to be done 1
 
 18 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 The schoolmaster must appear to do as others do. 
 The remedy does not lie with the school, or with the 
 schoolmaster, but with the parents. Until parents are 
 convinced of the inefficacy of the present system, 
 things must remain as they are. When they are per- 
 suaded that a reform is necessary, the next thing is to 
 consider how it can be accomplished. 
 
 To encourage good elementary schools, more liberal 
 emoluments must be allowed to schoolmasters and mis- 
 tresses. To effect this purpose, without raising the 
 present price of schooling, nothing more is necessary 
 than to shorten the present enormous duration of school 
 hours. 
 
 Two hours' attention is more than sufficient for the 
 acquirement of any thing which a young child ought to 
 learn in a day ; and even these two hours should be in- 
 terrupted by a relaxation of at least one third of that 
 time. Thus, four different sets or classes of scholars 
 might be sent daily to the same school, and for each 
 class the present prices should be paid ; so that the 
 master might have his salary considerably increased, 
 without giving up more of his time than he does at 
 present. 
 
 The numerous schools for early education that are 
 establishing or that are already established in the me- 
 tropolis, and in all the large towns of England, will, if 
 they be properly managed, leave little to be desired upon 
 the subject of education for children between the years 
 of seven and twelve. 
 
 The active modes of instruction which Bell and Lan- 
 caster have introduced, are fully as advantageous as the 
 low price of schooling ; the children are prevented from 
 drowsing over their lessons, and their little bodies are 
 kept in some degree of motion. Certain petty mounte- 
 bankisms will, by degrees, bft laid aside ; and the good 
 sense of the excellent persons who give not only their 
 money, but their time, to the superintendence of such 
 establishments, will soon improve whatever requires 
 emendation. 
 
 A good system for infant management, as it relates to 
 the temper, the habits of truth, industry, cleanliness, 
 tieatness, and to the forming children to habits of obser- 
 vation, reasoning, and good sense objects of far greater 
 consequence than the mere teaching to read and write, 
 or cast up accounts remains still to be formed and ex.-
 
 ABBRESS TO MOTHERS. 19 
 
 ecuted. Such schools are wanted, both for the mid- 
 dling classes and for the lower classes of the people ; 
 and I apprehend that they cannot well be formed any 
 way so well as by actual experiment. 
 
 Ladies who have leisure may, in the country, make 
 trials of whatever occurs to them on this subject. The 
 occupations and plays, liberty and restraint, rewards and 
 punishments of children, in those little communities we 
 call schools, may thus be examined, and their respective 
 excellence and defects may be compared ; and, in time, 
 some general results will be established. 
 
 For such an inquiry, next to a steady desire to be of 
 service, patient attention from day to day is what must 
 be the most effectual. 
 
 These schools are what are commonly called dame 
 schools. 
 
 A dame school, such as may prepare children for 
 seminaries of a higher class, should, as much as 
 possible, resemble a large private family, where the 
 mistress may be considered as the mother. The chil- 
 dren never should be out of the sight of their mistress, 
 and their plays as well as their tasks should be equally 
 an object of her care. And here, as in every other 
 place of instruction, the hours, or rather the minutes 
 of labour, should be short, with frequent intermission; 
 so that the habit of attention may by degrees be in- 
 duced, and may by reiteration be fortified. 
 
 Much of that useful enthusiasm which animates all 
 classes of people to encourage schools for young chil- 
 dren, is owing to the female sex. They have more 
 immediate opportunities of seeing the necessity and 
 of appreciating the merit of such schools ; their leisure 
 permits them to inspect more minutely establishments 
 of this sort : and their acquaintance with the early pro- 
 pensities and habits of children enables them to direct 
 successfully their instruction ; and it maybe reasonably 
 hoped that, under their care, dame schools, with mis- 
 tresses judiciously chosen, may be established wher- 
 ever they are wanting. Another generation will reap 
 the advantages of what has been begun in this ; and 
 teachers of both sexes, and of various degrees of in- 
 formation, will hereafter be procured with ease ; and 
 elementary schools will be established in every part of 
 Great Britain. B. L. E.
 
 
 FRANK, 
 
 THERE was a little boy whose name was Frank, He 
 had a father and a mother who were very kind to him ; 
 and he loved thena : he liked to talk to them, and he 
 liked to walk with them, and he liked to be with them. 
 He liked to do what they asked him to do ; and he took, 
 care not to do what they desired him not to do.>: When 
 his father or mother said to him, " Frank, shut the door," 
 he ran directly, and shut the door. When they said to 
 him, " Frank, do not touch that knife," he took his 
 hands away from the knife, and did not touch it. He 
 was an obedient little boy. 
 
 One evening, when his father and mother were drink- 
 ing tea, he was sitting under the tea-table : and he took 
 hold of one of the legs of the table ; and he tried to pull 
 it towards himself; but he could not move it. He took 
 hold of another leg of the table, and he found that he 
 could not move it ; but at last he took hold of one which 
 he found that he could move very easily ; for this leg 
 turned upon a hinge, and was not fixed, like the other 
 legs. As he was drawing this leg of the table towards 
 him, his mother said to him " Frank, what are you 
 doing *" 
 
 And he answered, " Mamma, I am playing with the 
 leg of the table." 
 
 And his mother said, " What do you mean by saying 
 that you are playing with the leg of the table ?" 
 
 And Frank said, " I mean that I am pulling it towards 
 me, mamma." 
 
 And his mother said, " Let it aione, my dear." 
 
 And Frank took his hands away from the leg of the 
 table, and he let it alone, and he came from under tbe 
 table ; and he got up, and stood beside his mother : and 
 he said, " Mamma, I come away from the leg of the 
 table, that I may not think of touching it any more ;" 
 and his father and mother smiled. 
 
 And Frank said, " But, mother, will you tell me why 
 you bid me let it alone ?" 
 
 *' Yes, I will, my dear," said his mother ; and she then
 
 22 FRANK. 
 
 moved some of the teacups and saucers to another 
 table : and Frank's father put the tea-urn upon another 
 table ; and then Frank's mother said to him, " Now, my 
 dear Frank, go and push the leg of the table as you did 
 before." 
 
 And Frank pushed the leg of the table ; and when he 
 had pushed it a little way, he stopped, and looked up at 
 his mother, and said, " 1 see part of the top of the table 
 moving down towards my head, mamma; and if I push 
 this leg any farther back, 1 am afraid that part of the 
 table will fall down upon my head and hurt me." 
 
 " I will hold up this part of the table, which is called 
 the leaf" said his mother ; " and I will not let it fall down 
 upon your head. Pull the leg of the table back as far 
 as you can." And Frank did as his mother desired 
 him ; and when he had pulled it back as far as he could, 
 his mother bid him come from under the table ; and he 
 did so ; and she said, " Stand beside me, and look what 
 happens when I let go this leaf of the table which 1 am 
 now holding." 
 
 And Frank said, " I know what will happen, I believe, 
 mamma : it will fall ; for, now that I have pulled back 
 the leg, there is nothing to hold it up but your hand." 
 
 Then his mother took away her hand, and the leaf of 
 the table fell : and Frank put his hand upon his head, and 
 said, " O mamma, that would have hurt me very much 
 if it had fallen upon my head I am glad I was not un- 
 der the table when the leaf fell and now I believe I 
 know the reason, mamma, why you asked me not to 
 meddle with that leg of the table : because the leaf (is 
 not that the name you told me?) the leaf would have 
 fallen upon my head, and would have hurt me. Was not 
 that the reason, mamma V 
 
 " That was one reason ; but I had some other reasons. 
 Try if you can find out what they were, Frank," said his 
 mother. 
 
 And Frank looked at the table for a little while, and 
 then answered, " I don't know any other reasons, mam- 
 ma;" but as he was saying these words, he saw his 
 mother turn her head towards the table upon which she 
 had put the cups and saucers. 
 
 " Oh, now, mamma," said Frank, " I know what you 
 mean. If those cups and saucers had been upon this 
 leaf of the table, they would have slid down when it fell, 
 and they would have been broken. And the urn, too,
 
 FRANK. 23 
 
 mamma, would have come tumbling down ; and perhaps 
 the top of the urn would have come off; and then all the 
 hot water would have come running out, and would have 
 wet the room, and would have scalded me if I had been 
 under it. I am very glad, mamma, that I did as you 
 bid me." 
 
 ONE day Frank's mother took him out to walk with 
 her in the fields ; and he saw flowers of different col- 
 ours, blue, red, yellow, and purple ; and he asked his 
 mother whether he might gather some of these flowers; 
 
 She answered, " Yes, my dear : you may gather as 
 many of these flowers as you please." 
 
 Then Frank ran and gathered several flowers ; and 
 in one corner of this field, upon a bank, he saw some 
 blue-bells ; and he liked blue-bells ; and he ran and 
 gathered them ; and in the next field he saw a great 
 number of purple flowers, which he thought looked very 
 pretty ; and he got over the stile, and went into the next 
 field, and went close up to the purple flowers ; they had 
 yellow in the middle of them ; and they grew upon a 
 plant which had a great number of green leaves. 
 
 As Frank was pulling some of the purple flowers he 
 shook the green leaves ; and he saw among them sev- 
 eral little green balls, which looked like very small 
 apples. Frank wished to taste them ; and he was just 
 going to pull one from the stalk, when he recollected 
 that his mother had not given him leave to have them ; 
 and he ran back to his mother, and said, " Mamma, may 
 I have some of those nice little apples ?" and he pointed 
 to the plants on which the purple flowers grew. 
 
 His mother answered, " l do not see any apples, my 
 dear." 
 
 "You will see them, mamma, if you will come a 
 little closer to them," said Frank ; and he took his 
 mother by the hand, and led her to the plants, and 
 showed her the little green balls which he thought were 
 apples. 
 
 " My dear little boy," said his mother, " these are not 
 apples ; these things are not good to be eaten ; they are 
 poisonous ; they would have made you sick if you had 
 eaten them." 
 
 " I am glad," said Frank, " that I did not taste them. 
 But may 1 have one of them for a ball 1"
 
 24 FRANK. 
 
 " No, my dear,"" said his mother, " do not meddle with 
 any of them." 
 
 Frank walked on in the path beside his mother ; and 
 He did not meddle with any of the little green balls. 
 And he saw at a little distance from him a boy who 
 was digging ; and when he came near to this boy, Frank 
 saw that he was digging up some of the plants that bore 
 the pretty purple flowers ;. and Frank said, " Mamma, 
 why does this boy dig t*p these things 1 Is he going to 
 throw them away ?" 
 
 And Frank's mother said, " Look, and you will see 
 what part of them he keeps, and what part of them he 
 throws away." 
 
 And Frank looked; and he saw that the boy pulled 
 off some of the brown and white round roots of the plant ; 
 and he put these roots into a basket. The green part 
 of the plant, and the purple flowers, and the green balls, 
 which Frank mistook for apples, he saw that the boy 
 threw away. 
 
 1 And Frank said to his mother, " What are those roots 
 in the basket 1" 
 
 His mother said, " Look at them ; and try if you can 
 find out you have eaten roots like them you often 
 see roots like these at dinner." 
 
 1 " I do not remember," said Frank, "ever having seen 
 such dirty things as these at dinner." 
 > " They are washed and boiled before you see them at 
 dinner ; and then they look white," said his mother. 
 
 Frank looked again at the roots which were in the 
 basket ; and he said, " Mamma, 1 think they are pota- 
 toes." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, they are potatoes," said his mother ; 
 and then Frank and his mother went on a little farther, 
 and they came to a large shady tree ; and Frank's mother 
 sat dov/n upon a bank under the shade of this tree, to 
 cool and rest herself; for she was hot and tired. 
 
 Frank was not tired ; therefore he did not sit down : 
 but he amused himself with trying to reach some of the 
 branches of the tree which hung over his head. 
 
 He jumped up as high as he could to catch them ; but 
 he found that several, which he thought he could reach, 
 he could not touch, even when he stretched out his 
 hand and arm, and stood on tiptoe. 
 
 At last, he saw a bough which hung lower than the 
 other boughs ; and he jumped up, and caught hold of it ;
 
 FRANK. 25 
 
 and he held it down, that he might look at the leaves of 
 the tree. 
 
 " Mamma," said he, " these leaves are not like the 
 leaves of the tree which is near the hall-door at home 
 you told me the name of that tree : that tree is called 
 a beech. What is the name of this tree V 
 
 " This tree is called a horsechestnut-tree." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " here are little green balls 
 upon this tree ; they are something like those I saw 
 upon the potatoes I won't meddle with them : they 
 have prickles upon them." 
 
 And Frank's mother said, " You may gather some of 
 these little balls, my dear ; these are not of the same 
 sort as those you saw on the potato-plants. These 
 are not poisonous : these are called horsechestnuts the 
 prickles are not very sharp you may break them off." 
 
 " How many of these horsechestnuts may I gather, 
 mamma 1 ?" said Frank. 
 
 " You may gather four of them, my dear," said his 
 mother ; and Frank gathered four of the horsechestnuts 
 then he let go the bough ; and he sat down upon the 
 bank beside his mother, to examine his horsechestnuts. 
 His mother broke one of them open for him the inside 
 of the green husk was white and soft ; and in the mid- 
 dle of this white, soft substance, there lay a smooth, 
 shining kernel, of the colour of mahogany. 
 
 "Is it good to eat, mamma?" said Frank "may I 
 taste it t" 
 
 " You may taste it, if you please, my dear," said his 
 mother, "but I do not think that you will like it, for 
 that brown skin has a bitter taste ; and I do not think 
 the inside of it is agreeable ; but you may taste it, if 
 you like it." 
 
 Frank tasted it, and he did not like the bitter of the 
 outside ; and he said, " Mamma, I will always take care 
 to ask you, before I meddle with things or taste them, 
 because you know more than I do : and you can tell me 
 whether they are good for me or not." 
 
 Frank's mother having now rested herself, got up from 
 her seat ; and she walked home ; and Frank carried his 
 three horsechestnuts home with him he did not put 
 them into his mouth, because he had learned that they 
 tasted bitter ; but he used them as balls, and he rolled 
 them along the floor when he got into the house ; and 
 he was very happy playing with them. 
 3 B
 
 26 FRANK. 
 
 ANOTHER day, Frank went out to walk with his moth- 
 er, and he came to a gate that was painted green ; and 
 he stopped at the gate, and looked between the rails of 
 it : and he saw a pretty garden, with several beds of 
 flowers in it ; and there were nice clean gravel-walks 
 between these flower-beds, and all round the garden 
 and against the walls of the garden there were plum- 
 trees and cherry-trees ; and the cherries and plums 
 looked as if they were quite ripe. 
 
 And Frank called to his mother, who was a little way 
 off; and he said, " Mamma, come and look at this pretty 
 garden I wish I might open this gate, and go in and 
 walk in it." 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, " you must not open the 
 gate this garden does not belong to me ; and I cannot 
 give you leave to walk in it." 
 
 There was a man nailing up a net over a cherry-tree 
 in this garden ; and he came to the gate, and opened it, 
 and said, " Will you walk in, ma'am ? This garden 
 belongs to me ; and you shall be very welcome to walk 
 in it." And Frank's mother thanked the man ; and she 
 then turned to Frank, and said, " If I take you with me, 
 Frank, to walk in this garden, you must take care not 
 to meddle with any thing in it." And Frank said that 
 he would not meddle with any thing in the garden ; and 
 his mother took him into it. 
 
 As he walked along the gravel-walks, he looked at 
 every thing : but he did not touch any thing. 
 
 A very sweet smell came from two beds of pinks and 
 carnations ; and he stood at a li ttle distance from them, 
 looking at them; and the man to whom the garden 
 belonged said to him, " Walk down this narrow path, 
 master, between the beds, and you'll see my carnations 
 better." 
 
 And Frank answered, " I should like to come down 
 that narrow path ; but I am afraid of coming, because 
 the skirts of my coat, I am afraid, will brush against 
 the flowers 1 saw your coat, just now, sir, hit against 
 the top of a flower; and it broke it." 
 
 Frank's mother smiled, and said, " I am glad, my 
 dear little boy, that you are so careful not to do mis- 
 chief." 
 
 Frank did not tread upon any of the borders ; and the 
 person to whom the garden belonged, who was a gar-
 
 FRANK. 27 
 
 dener, said to his mother, " I hope, whenever you come 
 this way again, ma'am, you'll walk in this garden of 
 mine, and bring this little gentleman with you ; for I am 
 sure, by what 1 see of him now, that he will not do me 
 any mischief." I 
 
 The gardener told Frank the names of several flow- 
 ers, and he showed him the seeds of some of these 
 flowers ; and he showed Frank how these seeds should 
 be sowed in the ground. 
 
 And while the gardener was showing Frank how to 
 sow the seeds of the mignionette, he heard a noise at the 
 gate ; and he looked, and he saw a boy who was sha- 
 king the gate, and trying to get in ; but the gate was 
 locked, and the boy could not open it ; and the boy 
 called to the gardener, and said, *' Let me in ; let me in 
 won't you let me in ?" 
 
 But the gardener answered, " No I will not let you 
 come in, sir, I assure you ; for when I did let you in 
 yesterday, you meddled with my flowers, and you ate 
 some of my cherries. I do not choose to let you in 
 here again I do not choose to let a dishonest boy into 
 my garden, who meddles with what does not belong to 
 him." 
 
 This boy looked very much ashamed and very sorry 
 that he might not come into the pretty garden ; and he 
 stood at the gate for some time ; but, when he found 
 that the gardener would not let him in, he went slowly 
 away. 
 
 A little while afterward, Frank asked his mother why 
 she did not gather some of the pinks in this garden; 
 and his mother answered, " Because they are not mine ; 
 and 1 must not meddle with what does not belong to 
 me." 
 
 " I did not know, till now, mamma," said Frank, 
 "that you must not meddle with what does not belong 
 to you I thought that people only said to little boys, 
 you must not meddle with what does not belong to you." 
 
 " My dear," said Frank's mother, " neither men, nor 
 women, nor children, should meddle with what does not 
 belong to them little children do not know this till it is 
 told to them." 
 
 "And, mamma," said Frank, "what is the reason 
 that men, women, and children should not meddle with 
 what does not belong to them ?" 
 
 Frank's mother answered, " I cannot explain all the 
 B2
 
 28 FRANK. 
 
 > 
 
 reasons to you yet, my dear but should you like that 
 anybody should take flowers out of the little garden 
 you have at home 1" 
 
 " No, mamma, I should not." 
 
 "And did not you see that the boy who just now 
 came to this green gate, was prevented by the gardener 
 from coming into this garden, because, yesterday, the 
 boy took flowers and fruit which did not belong to 
 him. You, Frank, have not meddled with any of these 
 flowers, or this fruit ; and, you know, the gardener said 
 that he would let you come in here again whenever I 
 like to bring you with me." 
 
 " I am very glad of that, mamma," said Frank ; " for 
 I like to walk in this pretty garden ; and I will take care 
 not to meddle with any thing that does not belong to me." 
 
 Then Frank's mother said, " It is time that we should 
 go home." And Frank thanked the gardener for letting 
 him walk in his garden, and for showing him how to 
 sow seeds in the ground ; and Frank went home with 
 his mother. 
 
 A FEW days after Frank had been with his mother to 
 walk in the garden that had the green gate, his mother 
 said to him, " Frank, put on your hat, and come with 
 me I am going to the garden in which we walked two 
 or three days ago." 
 
 Frank was very glad to hear this he put on his hat 
 in an instant, and followed his mother, jumping and 
 singing as he went along. 
 
 When they were in the fields which led to the garden 
 with the green gate, Frank ran on before his mother 
 he came to a stile ; a boy of about Frank's size was 
 sitting upon the uppermost step of the stile. He had a 
 hat upon his knees, in which there were some nuts ; 
 and the boy was picking the white kernel of a nut out 
 of its shell. 
 
 ! When the boy saw Frank, he said to him, " Do you 
 want to get over this stile ]" 
 
 And Frank answered, " Yes, I do." 
 
 The boy then got up from the step of the stile on 
 which he was sitting ; and he jumped down and walked 
 on, that he might make room for Frank to get over the 
 gtile. 
 
 Frank and his mother got over the stile ; and, in the
 
 PRANK. 29 
 
 path in the next field, at a little distance from the stile, 
 Frank saw a fine bunch of nuts. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I think these nuts belong to 
 that little boy who was sitting upon the stile, with nuts 
 in his hat ; perhaps he dropped them and did not know 
 it may I pick them up and run after the little boy, and 
 give them to him ?" 
 
 His mother said, " Yes, my dear, and I will go back 
 with you to the boy." So Frank picked up the nuts ; 
 and he and his mother went back ; and he called to the 
 little boy, who stopped when he heard him call. 
 
 And as soon as Frank came near to him, and had 
 breath to speak, he said to the boy, " Here are some 
 nuts, which I believe are yours 1 found them in the 
 path near that stile." 
 
 " Thank you," said the boy ; " they are mine I drop- 
 ped them there ; and I am much obliged to you for bring- 
 ing them back to me." 
 
 Frank saw that the boy was glad to have his nuts 
 again ; and Frank was glad that he had found them, and 
 that he had returned them to the person to whom they 
 belonged. 
 
 Frank then went on with his mother ; and they came 
 to the garden with the green gate. The gardener was 
 tying the pinks and carnations to white sticks, which he 
 stuck in the ground near them. He did this to prevent 
 the flowers from hanging down in the dirt, and being 
 broken by the wind. 
 
 Frank told his mother that he thought he could tie 
 up some of these flowers, and that he should like to try 
 to do it. 
 
 She asked the gardener if he would let Frank try to 
 help him. 
 
 The gardener said he would ; and he gave Frank a 
 bundle of sticks, and some strings made of bass mat : 
 and Frank stuck the sticks in the ground, and tied the 
 pinks and carnations to them ; and he said, " Mamma, 
 I am of some use ;" and he was happy while he was 
 employed in this manner. 
 
 After the flowers were all tied up, the gardener went 
 to the cherry-tree, which was nailed up against the 
 wall; and he took down the net which was spread 
 over it. 
 
 Frank asked his mother why this net had been spread 
 
 r er it.
 
 30 FRANK. 
 
 She told him that it was to prevent the birds from 
 pecking at and eating the cherries. 
 
 The cherries looked very ripe, and the gardener began 
 to gather them. 
 
 Frank asked whether he might help him to gather 
 some of the cherries. 
 
 His mother said, " Yes ! I think the gardener will trust 
 you to gather his cherries, because he has seen that 
 you have not meddled with any of his things without 
 his leave." 
 
 The gardener said that he would trust him ; and 
 Frank was glad ; and he gathered all the cherries that 
 he could reach that were ripe. 
 
 The gardener desired that he would not gather any 
 that were not ripe ; and his mother showed Frank a ripe 
 and an unripe cherry, that he might know the difference 
 between them : and she asked the gardener if he would 
 let Frank taste these two cherries, that he might know 
 the difference in the taste. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am," said the gardener ; and Frank 
 tasted the cherries, and he found that the ripe cherry 
 was sweet, and the unripe cherry sour. 
 
 The gardener told him that the cherries which were 
 now unripe would grow ripe in a few days, if they 
 were let to hang upon the tree, and if the sun shone. 
 
 And Frank said, " Mamma, if you let me come with 
 you here again in a few days, I will look at those cher- 
 ries, that I may see whether they do grow ripe." 
 
 Frank took care to gather only the cherries that were 
 ripe ; and when he had filled the basket into which the 
 gardener asked him to put them, the gardener picked 
 out five or six bunches of the ripest cherries, and he 
 offered them to Frank. 
 
 " May I have them, mamma ?" said Frank. 
 
 His mother said, " Yes, you may, my dear." 
 
 Then he took them ; and he thanked the gardener for 
 giving them to him ; and, after this, he and his mother 
 left the garden and returned towards home. 
 
 He asked his mother to eat some of the cherries; 
 and she took one bunch, and she said that she liked 
 them. 
 
 " And I will keep another bunch for papa," said Frank, 
 " because I know he likes cherries." 
 
 And Frank ate all the rest of the cherries, except the 
 bunch which he kept for his father; and he said, "I
 
 FRANK. 31 
 
 wish, mother, you would give me a little garden, and 
 some mignionette-seeds to sow in it." 
 
 She answered, " This is not the time of year in which 
 mignionette-seed should be sown; the seeds will not 
 grow if you sow them now. We must wait till spring." 
 
 Frank was going to say, " How many months will it 
 be between this time and spring V but he forgot what he 
 was going to say, because he saw a boy in the field in 
 which they were walking, who had something made of 
 white paper in his hand, which was fluttering in the 
 wind. 
 
 " What is that, mamma ?" said Frank. 
 
 " It is a paper kite, my dear," said his mother ; " you 
 shall see the boy flying this kite, if you please." 
 
 " I do not know what you mean by flying the kite, 
 mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " Look at what the boy is doing, and you will see." 
 
 Frank looked, and he saw the paper kite blown by the 
 wind ; and it mounted up higher than the trees, and went 
 higher and higher, till it seemed to touch the clouds, 
 and till it appeared no larger than a little black spot ; 
 and at last Frank lost sight of it entirely. 
 
 The boy who had been flying the kite now ran up to 
 the place where Frank was standing, and Frank saw 
 that he was the same boy to whom he had returned 
 the nuts. 
 
 The boy held one end of a string in his hand ; and the 
 other end of the string, Frank's mother told him, was 
 fastened to the kite. 
 
 The boy pulled the string towards him, and wound it 
 up on a bit of wood ; and Frank saw the paper kite again 
 coming downwards; and it fell lower, and lower, and 
 lower, and at last it fell to the ground. 
 
 The boy to whom it belonged went to fetch it ; and 
 Frank's mother said, " Now we must make haste and 
 go home." 
 
 Frank followed his mother, asking her several ques- 
 tions about the kite ; and he did not perceive that he had 
 not his bunch of cherries in his hand till he was near 
 home when his mother said, " There is your father 
 coming to meet us." Frank cried, "O mamma! my 
 cherries, the nice bunch of cherries that I kept to give 
 him I have dropped them I have lost them I am 
 very sorry for it May I run back to look for them 1 
 I think I dropped them while I was looking at the kite 
 May I go back to that field and look for them 1"
 
 32 FRANK. 
 
 " No, my dear," said his mother ; " it is just dinner- 
 time." 
 
 Frank was sorry for this ; and he looked back towards 
 the field where he lost his cherries, and he saw the boy 
 with the kite in his hand running very fast across the 
 field nearest to him. 
 
 " I think he seems to be running to us, mamma," said 
 Frank " will you wait one minute ?" 
 
 His mother stopped, and the boy ran up to them quite 
 out of breath. He held his kite in one hand ; and in his 
 other hand he held Frank's bunch of cherries. 
 
 " Oh, my cherries ! thank you for bringing them to 
 me," said Frank. 
 
 " You seem to be as glad as I was when you brought 
 me my nuts," said the boy " you dropped the cherries 
 in the field where I was flying my kite I knew they 
 were yours, because I saw them in your hand when you 
 were looking at my kite." 
 
 Frank thanked the boy again for returning them to 
 him ; and his mother also said to the boy, " Thank you, 
 my little honest boy." 
 
 " I was honest, mamma, when I returned his nuts to 
 him ; and he was honest when he returned my cherries 
 I liked him for being honest ; and he liked me for 
 being honest I will always be honest about every thing, 
 as well as about nuts." Then Frank ran to meet his 
 father, with the ripe bunch of cherries, and gave them 
 to him ; and his father liked them very much. 
 
 THE evening after Frank had seen the boy flying a 
 kite, he asked his father if he would be so good as to 
 give him a kite. 
 
 " My dear," said his father, " I am busy now ; I am 
 writing a letter; and I cannot think about kites now- 
 do not talk to me about kites when I am busy." 
 
 When his father had finished writing his letter, he 
 folded it up, and took up some sealing-wax to seal it ; 
 and Frank watched the sealing-wax, as it was melted 
 by the heat of the candle. He saw that his father let 
 some of the melted sealing-wax drop upon the paper ; 
 and then he pressed the seal down upon the wax which 
 had dropped upon the paper, and which was then soft. 
 , When the seal was taken up, Frank saw that there
 
 FRANK. 33 
 
 was the figure of the head of a man upon the wax ; and 
 he looked at the bottom of the seal, and he said, " This 
 is the same head that there is upon the wax, only this 
 on the seal goes inward, and that on the wax comes 
 outward." 
 
 He touched the wax upon which the seal had been 
 pressed : and he felt that it was now cold and hard ; and 
 he said, " Papa, are you busy now 1" 
 
 And his father said that he was not busy. 
 
 And Frank asked him if he would drop some more 
 wax on a bit of paper, and press the seal down upon it. 
 
 " Yes," said his father : " you were not troublesome 
 to me when I said that I was busy. Now I have leisure 
 to attend to you, my dear." 
 
 His father then took out of a drawer three different 
 seals ; and he sealed three different letters with these, 
 and let Frank see him drop the wax upon the paper, 
 and let Frank press down the seals upon the soft wax. 
 
 " Papa, will you give me leave to try if I can do it 
 myself 1 ?" said Frank. 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, " I do not like that you 
 should meddle with candles or with fire, lest you should 
 set your clothes on fire and burn yourself, as many 
 children of your age have done, when no one has been 
 present to help them." 
 
 " But, papa," said Frank, " I never meddle with can- 
 dles or fire when you or mamma are not in the room." 
 
 " Then now we are present you may try what you 
 wish to do; but I advise you to take care," said his 
 mother, " not to let any of the melted wax drop upon 
 your hands, for it will burn you if you do." 
 
 Frank was in a great hurry to melt the wax. His 
 mother called to him, and said " Gently, Frank, or you 
 will let the wax drop upon your hand, and burn your- 
 self." 
 
 But he said, " O no, mamma, it will not burn me." 
 
 And just after he had said this, a drop of the melted 
 sealing-wax fell upon the forefinger of his hand, and 
 burnt him ; and he squeezed his finger as hard as he 
 could to try to stop the feeling of pain. " It hurts me 
 very much, mamma ! 1 wish I had minded what you 
 said to me but I will not cry I will bear it well." 
 
 " You do bear it well," said his father ; " shake hands 
 with me, with the hand that is not burnt." 
 - A few minutes afterward, Frank said that he did not 
 B2
 
 34 FRANK. 
 
 feel the pain any longer ; and he asked his father if he 
 would give him leave to have the sealing-wax again, 
 and to try whether he could not make such a seal as he 
 had seen upon his father's letter, without burning him- 
 self. " You did not burn yourself, papa," said Frank ; 
 " and if I take care and do it as you did, I shall not burn 
 myself may I try again ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said his father ; " and I am glad to 
 see that you wish to try again, though you have had a 
 little pain." 
 
 His father showed him once more how to hold the 
 wax to the candle, and how to drop it when melting 
 upon the paper, without burning himself. 
 
 And Frank succeeded very well this time, and made 
 a good impression from the seal : and he showed it to 
 his mother. 
 
 " Is it not a good seal, mammal" said he. " I took 
 good care not to hold the wax this time as I did the 
 last, when 1 burnt myself." 
 
 " Yes," said his mother, " I dare say you remember 
 how you held it when you burnt yourself." 
 
 "O yes, that I do, mamma: the pain makes me re- 
 member it, I believe." 
 
 "And I dare say you remember how you held the 
 wax when you made this pretty seal." 
 
 " O yes, mamma, that I do ; and I shall remember to do 
 it the same way the next time." 
 
 " You have been rewarded for your patience by hav- 
 ing succeeded in making this seal ; and you were pun- 
 ished for your carelessness by having burnt your fore- 
 finger." 
 
 FRANK remembered that his father desired him not to 
 talk to him about kites when he was busy ; and though 
 Frank was very eager to have a kite, he waited till he 
 saw that his father was neither reading, nor writing, 
 nor talking to anybody then he said, " Papa, I believe 
 you are not busy now will you give me a kite V 
 
 " I have not a kite ready made in my house," replied 
 his father, "but I will show you how to make one ; and 
 I will give you some paper, and some paste, and some 
 wood, to make it of." Then his father gave him three 
 large sheets of paper ; and his mother rang the bell, and
 
 FRANK. 35 
 
 desired the servant would order the cook to make some 
 paste. 
 
 And Frank asked his mother how the cook made paste, 
 and what she would make it of? 
 
 His mother took him by the hand, and said, " You 
 shall see ;" and she took Frank down stairs with her 
 into the kitchen, where he had never been before ; and 
 she stayed with him while he looked at the manner in 
 which the cook made the paste. 
 
 " What is that white powder, mamma, , which the 
 cook is taking up in her hands?" said Frank. 
 
 " It is called flour, my dear you may take some of 
 it in your hand ; and you may taste it." 
 
 " Where does it come from, mamma?" 
 
 " From corn, my dear. You have seen corn growing 
 in the fields ; and when we walk out again into a field, 
 when there is corn, if you will put me in mind, I will 
 show you the part of the plant from which flour is 
 made." 
 
 " Made, mamma ! how is it made ?" 
 
 " It is ground in a mill but I cannot explain to you 
 now what I mean by that when you see a mill, you 
 will know." 
 
 " I should like to see a mill," said Frank, " now, this 
 minute." 
 
 " But I cannot show it to you, Frank, now, this min- 
 ute," said his mother ; " besides, you came here to see 
 how paste was made ; and you had better attend to that 
 now." 
 
 Frank attended ; and he saw how paste was made. 
 ******* ^ n( j w hen the paste was made, it 
 was left upon a plate to cool. 
 
 Frank, as soon as it was cool enough to be used, 
 took it to his father, and asked him if he might 
 now begin to make his kite ; but his father said, " My 
 dear, I cannot find two slips of wood for you ; and you 
 cannot well make your kite without them: but I am 
 going to the carpenter's ;, and I can get such bits as I 
 want from him if you wish to come, you may come 
 with me." 
 
 Frank said that he should like to go to the carpen- 
 ter's ; so his father took him along with him. 
 
 The carpenter lived in a village, which was about a 
 mile from Frank's home ; and the way to it was by the 
 turnpike-road.
 
 36 FRANK. 
 
 As he walked along with his father, he saw some men 
 who were lifting up a tree which they had just cut 
 down it had been growing in a hedge by the roadside 
 the men put the tree upon a sort of carriage ; and 
 then they dragged the carriage along the road. 
 
 " What are they going to do with this tree, papa ?" 
 said Frank ; " will you ask them V 
 
 The men said that they were carrying the tree to the 
 sawpit, to have it cut into boards. 
 
 They went on a little farther ; and then the men 
 turned up a lane, and dragged the carriage, with the tree 
 upon it, after them ; and Frank told his father that he 
 should like very much to see the sawpit. 
 
 It was not far off; and his father went down the lane 
 and showed it to him. 
 
 At the sawpit, Frank observed how the sawyer saw- 
 ed wood : he looked at some boards which had just 
 been sawed asunder when the sawyer rested himself, 
 Frank looked at the large sharp teeth of his saw ; and 
 when the sawyer went on with his work, Frank's father 
 asked him to saw slowly ; and Frank observed, that the 
 teeth of the saw cut and broke off very small parts of 
 the wood, as the saw was pushed and drawn backwards 
 and forwards he saw a great deal of yellow dust in 
 the sawpit, which his father told him was called saw- 
 dust ; and fresh sawdust fell from the teeth of the saw 
 as it was moved. 
 
 The men who had brought the tree to be sawed into 
 boards, were all this time busy in cutting off, with a 
 hatchet, the small branches, and Frank turned to look 
 at what they were doing ; but his father said, " Frank, 
 I cannot wait any longer now : I have business to do at 
 the carpenter's." So Frank followed his father direct- 
 ly ; and they went on to the carpenter's. 
 
 When they came to the door of his workshop, they 
 heard the noise of his hammering ; and Frank clapped 
 his hands, and said, " I am glad to hear hammering I 
 shall like to hammer myself." 
 
 " But," said his father, stopping him, just as he pulled 
 up the latch of the door " remember that the hammer 
 in this house is not yours ; and you must not meddle 
 with it, nor with any of the carpenter's tools, without 
 his leave." 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Frank, " I know that I must not 
 meddle with things that are not mine I did not meddle
 
 FRANK. 37 
 
 with any of the flowers or cherries in the gardener's 
 nice garden; and I will not meddle with any of the 
 carpenter's tools." So his father took him into the 
 workshop ; and he saw the bench upon which the car- 
 penter worked, which was called a workbench : upon 
 it he saw several tools, a plane, and a chisel, and a saw, 
 and a gimlet, and a hammer : he did not meddle with 
 any of them ; and after his father had been some time 
 in the workshop, and when he saw that Frank did not 
 touch any of these things, he asked the carpenter to let 
 him touch them, and to show him their use. 
 
 The carpenter, who had observed that Frank had not 
 meddled with any of his tools, readily lent them to him 
 to look at ; and when he had looked at them, showed 
 him their use he planed a little slip of wood with a 
 plane ; and he bored a hole through it with the gimlet ; 
 and he sloped off the end of it with his chisel ; and then 
 he nailed it to another piece of wood with nails, which 
 he struck into the wood with his hammer. 
 
 And Frank asked if he might take the hammer and a 
 nail, and hammer it into a bit of wood himself. 
 
 " You may try, if the carpenter will give you leave," 
 said his father. 
 
 So Frank took the hammer, and tried to hammer a 
 nail into a bit of wood he hit his fingers, instead of the 
 nail, two or three times ; but at last he drove it into the 
 wood ; and he said, " I thought it was much easier to 
 do this, when I saw the carpenter hammering." 
 
 Frank afterward tried to use the plane, and the saw, 
 which he thought he could manage very easily ; but he 
 found that he could not : and he asked his father what 
 was the reason that he could not do all this as well as 
 the carpenter. 
 
 The carpenter smiled and said, " I have been learning 
 to do all this, master, a great long while. When I first 
 took a plane in my hand, I could not use it better than 
 you do now." 
 
 " Then perhaps, papa, I may learn too, in time. But, 
 papa," said Frank, recollecting his kite, " will you be so 
 good as to ask for the slips of wood for my kite V 
 
 His father did so ; and the carpenter found two slips 
 that were just fit for his purpose, and gave them to 
 him ; and his father then desired him not to talk any 
 more ; " For," said he, " we have business to do : and 
 you must not interrupt us." 
 
 4
 
 38 FRANK. 
 
 WHILE his father was speaking to the carpenter about 
 his own business, Frank went to the window to look 
 at it ; for it was a different sort of window from those 
 which he had been used to see in his father's house. It 
 opened like a door ; and the panes of glass were very 
 small, and had flat slips of lead all round them. 
 
 While Frank was examining this window, he heard 
 the sound of a horse trotting ; and he looked out, and 
 he saw a horse upon the road, which was before the 
 window. 
 
 The horse had a saddle and bridle on ; but nobody 
 was riding upon it : it stopped and ate some grass by 
 the roadside, and then went down a lane. 
 
 Soon after Frank had seen the horse go by, his father, 
 who had finished his business with the carpenter, called 
 to Frank, and told him that he was going home. 
 
 Frank thanked the carpenter for letting him look at 
 the plane, and the saw, and the chisel, and for giving 
 him a slip of wood for his kite ; and he took the bit of 
 wood with him, and followed his father. When his 
 father and he had walked a few yards from the carpen- 
 ter's door, a man passed by them, who seemed very hot 
 and very much tired. He looked back at Frank's father, 
 and said, " Pray, sir, did you see a horse go by this way 
 a little while ago 1" 
 
 " No, sir, I did not," said Frank's father. 
 
 " But 1 did, papa," said Frank ; " I saw a horse going 
 by, upon this road, while I was standing just now at 
 the carpenter's window." 
 
 " Pray, master, what colour was the horse you saw V* 
 said the man. 
 
 " Black, sir," said Frank. 
 
 " Had he a saddle and bridle onV said the man. 
 
 " Yes, sir, he had," answered Frank. 
 
 " And pray, master," said the man, " will you be so 
 good as to tell me whether he went on upon this road 
 straight before us, or whether he turned down this lane 
 to the right, or this other lane to the left hand V 
 
 As the man spoke, he pointed to the lanes ; and Frank 
 answered, " The horse that I saw, sir, galloped down 
 this lane, to my righthand side." 
 
 " Thank you, master," said the man. " I will go 
 after him I hope that the people at the house yonder 
 will stop him. He is as quiet antf good a horse as can
 
 FRANK. 39 
 
 be, only that whenever I leave him by the roadside, 
 without tying him fast by the bridle, he is apt to stray 
 away ; and that is what he has done now." 
 
 The man, after saying this, went down to the Line to 
 his righthand side ; and Frank walked on with his father. 
 
 The road towards home was up a steep hill ; and 
 Frank began to be tired before he had got halfway up 
 the hill. 
 
 " It did not tire me so much, papa, as we came down 
 the hill ; but it is very difficult to get up it again." 
 
 *' I do not hear all that you are saying," said his 
 father ; " you are so far behind me cannot you keep 
 up with me ?" 
 
 " No, papa," cried Frank, as loud as he could, " be- 
 cause" I am tired my knees are very much tired coming 
 up this great hill." 
 
 His father stopped and looked back, and saw that 
 Frank was trying to come up the hill as fast as he could. 
 
 At this time, Frank heard the noise of a horse behind 
 him ; and he looked and saw the man whom he had 
 spoken to a little while before, riding up the black horse 
 which he had seen going down the lane. 
 
 The man said to him, " Thank you, master, for telling 
 me which way my horse went you see I have got him 
 again. You seem sadly tired I will carry you up this 
 hill upon my horse, if you have a mind." 
 
 " I will ask my father if he likes it," said Frank. 
 
 His father said, " Yes, if you please ;" and the man 
 took Frank up, and set him before him upon the horse, 
 and put his arms round Frank's body, to hold him fast 
 upon the horse. Then the horse walked gently up the 
 hill, and Frank's father walked beside him and when 
 they came to the top of the steep hill, his father took 
 Frank down from the horse ; and Frank thanked the 
 man for carrying him : and he felt rested, and able to 
 walk on merrily with his father. 
 
 And as he walked on, he said to his father, " I am 
 glad that I saw the horse, and observed which way it 
 went, and that I told the man which road it went. You 
 know, papa, there were three roads ; and the man could 
 not know which way the horse went till I told him. 
 If I had not observed, and if I had not told him the right 
 road, he would have gone on on on on a great 
 way; and he would have tired himself; and he would 
 not have found his horse."
 
 40 FRANK. 
 
 " Very true," said his father : " now you have found 
 one of the uses of observing what you see, and of re- 
 lating facts exactly." 
 
 " One of the uses, papa ! Are there more uses, 
 papa ?" 
 
 " Yes, a great many." 
 
 " Will you tell all to me ?" 
 
 " I would rather that you should find them out for 
 yourself," said his father " you will find them all out 
 some time or other." 
 
 Then Frank began to talk about his kite ; and as soon 
 as he had got home, his father showed him how to make 
 it, and helped him to do it. And when it was made, he 
 left it to dry : for the paste which pasted the paper to- 
 gether was wet; and his father told him that it must 
 dry before the paste would hold the paper together, and 
 before the kite was fit to be used. 
 
 And when it was quite dry, his father told him that 
 he might go out upon the grass, in a field near the house, 
 and fly it. 
 
 Frank did so, and it went up very high in the air ; 
 and it stayed up, now higher, now lower, for some time ; 
 and the sun shone upon it, so that it was plainly seen ; 
 and the wind swelled out the sides of it, as Frank pulled 
 it by the middle with the string. 
 
 His mother came to the window to look at the kite, 
 and Frank was very glad that she saw it too; and when 
 it came down, it fell upon the smooth grass, and it was 
 not torn. 
 
 Frank carried it into the house, and put it by carefully 
 that it might not be spoiled, and that he might have the 
 pleasure of flying it another day ; and he said, " 1 wish 
 I could find out why the kite goes up into the air !" 
 
 IT was a rainy day, and Frank could not go out to 
 fly his kite he amused himself with playing with his 
 horsechestnuts. He was playing in a room by himself; 
 and, by accident, he threw one of his horsechestnuts 
 against the window, and it broke a pane of glass. Im- 
 mediately he ran down stairs into the room where he 
 knew that his mother was, and he went up to her she 
 was speaking to somebody, and she did not see him ; 
 and he laid his hand upon her arm to make her attend
 
 FRANK. 
 
 41 
 
 to him : and the moment she turned her face to him, he 
 said, " Mamma, I have broken the window in your bed- 
 chamber, by throwing a horsechestnut against it." 
 
 His mother said, " I am sorry you have broken my 
 window; but I am glad, my dear Frank, that you come 
 directly to tell me of it." And his mother kissed him. 
 
 " But how shall I prevent you," said she, " from 
 breaking my window again with your horsechestnuts 1" 
 
 " I will take care not to break it again, mamma," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " But you said that you would take care, before you 
 broke it to-day ; and yet you see that you have broken it. 
 After you burnt your finger by letting the hot sealing- 
 wax drop upon it, you took a great deal of care not to 
 do the same thing again, did not you !" 
 
 "Oh yes, mamma," said Frank, squeezing the finger 
 which he burnt just as he did at the time he burnt it 
 " Oh yes, mamma, I took a great deal of care not to do 
 the same thing again, for fear of burning myself again." 
 
 " And if you had felt some pain when you broke the 
 window just now, do you not think that you should 
 take care not to do so again ?" 
 
 "Yes, mamma." 
 
 " Where is the horsechestnut with which you broke 
 the window?" 
 
 " It is lying upon the floor in your room." 
 
 ' Go and fetch it." 
 
 Frank went for it, and brought it to his mother ; and 
 she took it in her hand and said, " You would be sorry 
 to see this horsechestnut thrown away, would not you?" 
 
 "Yes, mamma," said Frank; "for I like to roll it 
 about, and to play with it ; and it is the only one of my 
 horsechestnuts that I have left." 
 
 " But," said his mother, " I am afraid that you will 
 break another of my windows with it ; and if you would 
 throw it away, you could not break them with it ; and 
 the pain you would feel at your horsechestnut's being 
 thrown away would make you remember, I think, not 
 to throw hard things against glass windows again." 
 
 Frank stood for a little while looking at his horse- 
 chestnut ; and then he said, " Well, mamma, I will throw 
 it away !" and he threw it out of the window. 
 
 Some days afterward, his mother called Frank to the 
 table where she was at work ; and she took out of her 
 
 orkbasket two leather balls, and gave them to Frank;
 
 42 FRANK. 
 
 one of them was very hard, and the other was very 
 soft. 
 
 His mother desired that he would play with the soft 
 ball when he was in the house, and with the hard ball 
 when he was out of doors she said that she had made 
 the soft ball on purpose for him, that he might have one 
 to play with when it was rainy weather, and when he 
 could not go out. 
 
 This soft ball was stuffed with horsehair ; it was not 
 stuffed tight ; and Frank could squeeze it together with 
 his fingers. 
 
 Frank thanked his mother: and he liked the two 
 balls very much : and his mother said to him, " You 
 have not broken any more windows, Frank, since you 
 punished yourself by throwing away your horsechestnut ; 
 and now I am glad to reward you for your truth and 
 good sense." 
 
 ABOUT a week after Frank's mother had given him 
 the two balls, she came into the room where he had 
 been playing at ball. Nobody had been in the room with 
 him till his mother came in. She had a large nosegay 
 of pinks and carnations in her hand. " Look here, 
 Frank," said she; " the gardener who lives at the garden 
 with the green gate, has brought these pinks and carna- 
 tions, and has given them to me ; he says they are some 
 of those which you helped him to tie up." 
 
 " Oh, they are very pretty ! they are very sweet !" 
 said Frank, smelling to them as his mother held them 
 towards him " May I help you, mamma, to put them 
 into the flower-pot ]" 
 
 " Yes, my dear bring the flower-pot to me which 
 stands on that little table, and we will put these flowers 
 into it." 
 
 She sat down ; and Frank ran to the little table for 
 the flower-pot. 
 
 "There is no water in it, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " But we can put some in," said his mother " Well ! 
 why do not you bring it to me ?" 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I am afraid to take it up ; 
 for here is a great large crack all down the flower-pot ; 
 and when I touched it just now, it shook : it seems 
 quite loose ; aud I think it will fall to pieces if I take it 
 in my hands.'
 
 FRANK. '43 
 
 His mother then came to the little table by which 
 Frank was standing, and she looked at the flower-pot, 
 and saw that it was cracked through, from top to bot- 
 tom ; and the moment she took it in her hands it fell 
 to pieces. 
 
 " This flower-pot was not broken yesterday evening," 
 said his mother ; " I remember seeing it without any 
 crack in it yesterday evening, when I took the dead 
 mignionette out of it." 
 
 " So do I, mamma: I was by at that time." 
 
 " I do not ask you, my dear Frank," said his mother, 
 "whether you broke this flower-pot; I think, if you had 
 broken it, you would come and tell me, as you did when 
 you broke the pane of glass in this window." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Frank, eagerly looking up in his 
 mother's face, " I did not break this flower-pot I have 
 not meddled with it i have been playing with my soft 
 ball, as you desired look, here is my soft ball," said 
 he ; " this is what I have been playing with all this 
 morning." 
 
 " My dear Frank," said his mother, " I believe you. 
 You told me the truth before about the window that 
 you broke." 
 
 Frank's father came into the room at this moment ; 
 and Frank asked him if he had broken or cracked the 
 flower-pot. 
 
 He said, " No, I have not ; T know nothing about, it." 
 
 Frank's mother rang the bell, and when the maidser- 
 vant came up, asked the maid whether she had cracked 
 the flower-pot. 
 
 The maid answered, " No, madam, I did not." And 
 after she had given this answer, the maid left the room. 
 
 " Now, my dear Frank," said his father, " you see 
 what an advantage it is to speak the truth ; because I 
 know that you told the truth about the window which 
 you broke, and about the horse which you said you had 
 seen going down the lane, I cannot help believing that 
 you speak the truth now I believe that you did not 
 break this flower-pot, because you say that you did not." 
 
 " But, papa," said Frank, " I wish that the person that 
 did crack it, would tell you or mamma that they cracked 
 it, because then you would be quite, quite sure that I 
 did not do it. Do you think the maid did it V 
 
 " No ; I do not, because she says she did not ; and I 
 have always foua d that she tells the truth."
 
 44 PRANK. 
 
 Frank's mother, while he was speaking, was looking 
 at the broken pieces of the flower-pot ; and she observed 
 that, near the place where it was cracked, one side of 
 the flower-pot was blackened ; and she rubbed the black, 
 and it came off easily : and she said, " This looks as if 
 it had been smoked."" 
 
 " But smoke comes from the fire," said Frank, " and 
 there has been no fire in this room, mamma." 
 
 " And did you never see smoke come from any thing 
 but from the fire in the fireplace 1" 
 
 " Not that I remember, mamma," said Frank " Oh, 
 yes ', I have seen smoke, a great deal of smoke, come 
 from the spout of the teakettle, and from the top of the 
 urn." 
 
 " That is not smoke," said his father ; " but I will tell 
 you more about that another time cannot you recol- 
 lect seeing smoke come from " 
 
 " From what, papa V 
 
 " Last night you saw smoke coming from " 
 
 " Oh, now I recollect from the candle, papa," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " And now I recollect," said Frank's father, " that late 
 last night I was sealing a letter at this little table, and I 
 remember that I left the green wax candle burning very 
 near this flower-pot, while I went out of the room to 
 give the letter which I had been sealing to a man who 
 was waiting for it. When I came back again I put out 
 the candle. I did not observe that the flower-pot was 
 smoked or cracked ; but I now think it is very probable 
 that the heat of that candle cracked it." 
 
 " Let us look whether there is any melted green 
 wax," said Frank, " upon the pieces of the flower-pot ; 
 because wax, when it was melting, might drop upon the 
 flower-pot, as it did upon my finger once." 
 
 Frank examined all the pieces of the flower-pot, and 
 on one bit, near the place where it was blackened with 
 smoke, he found a round spot of green wax. 
 
 " Then," said his father, " I am now pretty sure that 
 it was I who was the cause of cracking the flower-pot, 
 by putting the lighted candle too near it." 
 
 " I am very glad we have found out the truth," said 
 Frank; "and now, papa," added he, "will you be so 
 good as to tell me about the smoke no, not the smoke, 
 but the thing that looks so like smoke, which comes out 
 of the top of the urn, and out of the spout of the tea- 
 kettle 1"
 
 FRANK. 45 
 
 " I have not time to explain it to you now, Frank," said 
 his father : " but if I am not busy at tea-time this even- 
 ing, you may put me in mind of it again." And, at 
 tea-time, his father showed him the difference between 
 smoke and steam.* 
 
 " THE bread, mamma, is very good this morning," 
 said Frank, one morning at breakfast. 
 
 " It is new bread." 
 
 "New bread, mamma! What is meant by new 
 bread?" 
 
 " Bread that has been newly made." 
 
 " Bread is made of flour, I remember you told me, 
 mamma; and flour comes from mamma, do not 
 you recollect telling me that, some time or other, you 
 would show me corn growing in the fields 1 When we 
 walk out this morning, I will put you in mind of it 
 again." 
 
 And when he walked out with his mother in the fields, 
 Frank put her in mind of it again ; and she said, " I see 
 some men at work yonder, in a corn-field ; let us go 
 and see what they are doing." So they went to the 
 field ; and Frank's mother showed him some wheat 
 growing, and s^e showed him some that had been cut 
 down ; she showed him some that was ripe, and some 
 that was not ripe. And then they walked farther on, 
 to the part of the field' where the men were at work. 
 
 Frank saw that they had a kind of sharp, bright hook 
 in their hands, with which they were cutting down the 
 wheat. His mother told him that these hooks were 
 called reaping-hooks. 
 
 He saw that, after the wheat was cut down, the men 
 tied up bundles of it, which they set upright in the field 
 at regular distances from each other. His mother told 
 him that each of these bundles was called a sheaf of 
 wheat ; and she pulled out a single stalk, and put it into 
 his hand, and said, " This is called an ear of wheat 
 what grows upon a single stalk is called an ear of 
 wheat." 
 
 While Frank was looking at the men tying up the 
 sheaves, a person came up to him, and said, " You are 
 
 * See Harry and Lucy.
 
 46 FRANK. 
 
 welcome here, master. You are he that was so good 
 as to tell me which road my horse strayed, some time 
 ago." 
 
 Frank looked in the face of the person who was 
 speaking to him ; and he recollected this to be the man 
 who carried him up the steep hill upon his horse. 
 
 This man was a farmer, and he was now overlook- 
 ing some labourers who were reaping his wheat. He 
 pointed to a small house among some trees at a little 
 distance, and he told Frank's mother that he lived in 
 that house, and that if she would like to walk there, he 
 could show Frank how the men were thrashing in his 
 barn. 
 
 Frank's mother thanked the farmer ; and they walked 
 to his house it was a thatched, whitewashed house ; 
 and it looked very neat. 
 
 There weie some scarlet flowers in the kitchen-gar- 
 den, which looked very pretty. As they passed through 
 the garden, Frank asked the name of these flowers ; and 
 his mother told him that these were called scarlet run- 
 ners ; and she said to him, " on this kind of plant grow 
 kidney beans, of which you are so fond, Frank." 
 
 Frank saw cabbages, and cauliflowers, and lettuce, in 
 this garden : but his mother said, " Come, Frank, you 
 must not keep us waiting ;" and he followed his mother 
 through a yard, where there were a great number of 
 ducks, and fowls, and geese, and turkeys ; and they 
 made a great noise : and several of them clapped their 
 white wings ; and the geese and turkeys stretched out 
 their long necks. 
 
 " You need not squeeze my hand so tight, Frank," 
 said his mother : " you need not squeeze yourself up so 
 close to me : these geese and turkeys will not do you 
 any harm, though they make so much noise." 
 
 So Frank walked on stoutly ; and he found that the 
 geese and turkeys did not hurt him : and when he had 
 crossed this yard, the farmer led him through a gate 
 into a large yard where there were ricks of hay ; and 
 there were several cows in this yard ; and as he passed 
 by them, Frank observed that their breath smelt very 
 sweet. 
 
 " Come this way into the barn," said the farmer : 
 " here are the men who are thrashing." 
 
 The barn, on the inside, looked like a large room, 
 with rough walls and no ceiling; but it had a floor.
 
 PRANK. 4t 
 
 Four men were at work in this barn : they were beating 
 some wheat that lay upon the floor with long sticks ; 
 they made a great noise as they struck the floor with 
 their sticks, so that Frank could neither make his mother 
 hear what he said, nor could he hear her voice. 
 
 The sticks seemed to be half broken in two in the 
 middle ; and they seemed to swing with great violence 
 as the men struck with them ; and Frank was afraid 
 that the sticks should reach to where he stood, and 
 should hit him ; but after he had been in the barn for a 
 little while, he became less afraid; he observed that 
 the sticks did not swing within reach of him. 
 
 The farmer asked the men to stop working ; and they 
 stopped : and the farmer took one of the things with 
 which they had been working out of their hands, and 
 showed it to Frank. 
 
 His mother told him that it was called a flail. It was 
 made of two sticks, tied together with a bit of leather. 
 
 The farmer showed Frank the wheat which lay upon 
 the floor ; and his mother showed him that the loose, 
 outside cover of the wheat, was beaten off by the strokes 
 of the flail. 
 
 The farmer said, " You may take some of the wheat, 
 master, in your hand, and some of the chaff; and then 
 you will see the difference. The chaff was the outside 
 covering." 
 
 '' And how is this wheat made into bread ?" 
 
 " O master," said the farmer, " a great deal must be 
 done to it before it is made into bread it must go to 
 the mill to be ground." 
 
 " I should like to see the mill, mamma," said Frank ; 
 " but 1 do not know what he means by to be ground." 
 
 " That you will see when you go to the mill." 
 
 " Shall we go to the mill now, mamma?" said Frank. 
 
 " No, my dear," said his mother ; " I would rather 
 that you should wait till some day when your father 
 can have time to go with you to the mill, because he 
 can explain it to you much better than I could." 
 
 Then Frank and his mother thanked the farmer for 
 what he had shown them ; and they had a pleasant 
 walk home.
 
 48 TRANK. 
 
 " Ah ! spare yon emmet, rich in hoarded grain ; 
 He lives with pleasure, and he dies with pain."* 
 
 FRANK was always careful not to hurt insects, nor any 
 sort of animals. He liked to observe spiders in their 
 webs, and ants carrying their white loads ; but he never 
 teased them ; even those animals which he did not 
 think pretty, he took care not to hurt. 
 
 One evening, when he was walking with his father 
 and mother, upon a gravel-walk near the house, he saw 
 several black snails. He did not think them pretty 
 animals ; but whenever he came near one, he took care 
 not to tread upon it. He stooped down to look at one 
 of these black snails, which was drawing in its black 
 horns. 
 
 " I believe, mamma," said Frank, " that he drew in 
 those horns because he is afraid I am going to hurt him." 
 
 " Very likely." 
 
 " But that is foolish of the snail, mamma, because, 
 you know, I am not going to hurt it." 
 
 " I know that, Frank ; but how should the snail know 
 it!" 
 
 " He lies quite still he will not put out his black 
 horns again I will go away and leave him, that I may 
 not frighten him any more. I should not like to be 
 frightened myself, if I was a snail," said Frank. So he 
 ran on before his father and mother, and left the snail ; 
 and he saw some pretty brown and green moss upon a 
 bank ; and he asked his mother if he might gather some 
 of it. 
 
 She said, " Yes ;" and he climbed up the bank, and 
 he gathered some of the moss ; and in the moss, at the 
 foot of a tree, he found a pretty shell : it was striped 
 with purple, and green, and straw colour, and white ; 
 and it was smooth and very shining. He got down 
 from the bank as fast as he could, and he ran and 
 asked his mother if he might keep this pretty shell, and 
 carry it into the house, when he came home from walk- 
 ing. 
 
 His mother looked at the shell as Frank held it upon 
 the pilm of his hand ; and she told him that he might 
 have t, and that he might carry it into the house with 
 
 i * Sir William Jones.
 
 FRANK. 49 
 
 him when he went home ; and she told him it was a 
 snail-shell. 
 
 " A snail-shell, mamma!" said Frank; "I never saw 
 such a pretty snail-shell before : I am glad I have found 
 it, and I will take care not to break it." 
 
 Frank held it carefully in his hand during the rest of 
 his walk ; and he often looked at it to see that it was 
 safe ; and, just as he came near the hall door, he opened 
 his hand and began to count the number of coloured 
 rings upon his snail-shell " One, two, three, four, five 
 rings, mamma," said Frank ; " and the rings seem to 
 wind round and round the shell ; they are larger at the 
 bottom ; and they grow less, and less, and less, as they 
 wind up to the top." 
 
 " That is called a spiral line," said his father, pointing 
 to the line which, as Frank said, seemed to wind round 
 and round the shell. 
 
 As Frank was looking with attention at the shell, he 
 felt something cold, clammy, and disagreeable, touching 
 his hand at the bottom of the shell ; and with his other 
 hand he was going to lift up the shell to see what this 
 was ; but, when he touched it, he found that it stuck to 
 his hand: and, a few instants afterward, he saw the 
 snail-shell seemed to rise up ; and he perceived the 
 horns and head of a snail peeping out from beneath the 
 shell. " O mamma ! there is a living snail in this shell 
 look at it," said Frank " look ! it has crawled out a 
 great deal farther now, and it carries its shell upon its 
 back : it is very curious ; but I wish it was crawling 
 anywhere but upon my hand, for I do not like the cold 
 sticky feeling of it." 
 
 Frank then was going to -shake the snail from his 
 hand ; but he recollected that, if he let it fall suddenly 
 upon the stone steps, he might hurt the animal, or break 
 the pretty shell ; therefore, he did not shake it off; but 
 he put his hand down gently to the stone step, and the 
 snail crawled off his hand upon the stone. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I think the snail might do 
 without that pretty shell. You gave the shell to me, 
 mamma may I pull it off the snail's back ?" 
 
 "My dear," said his mother, "I did not know that 
 
 there was a snail in that shell when I said that you 
 
 might have it I would not have given it to you, if I 
 
 had known that there was a snail withinside of it you 
 
 5 C
 
 ?>i FRANK. 
 
 c ihnoi pull the shell from the snail's back, without 
 htmg the animal or breaking the shell." 
 
 " I do not wish to hurt the animal," said Frank ; " and 
 I am sure I do not wish to break the pretty shell, so I 
 w-11 not pull it but, mamma, I think I had better take 
 th* snail and snail-shell, both together, into the house, 
 and keep them in my little red box, mamma; what do 
 yoa think V 
 
 ''I think, my dear, that the snail would not be so 
 happy in your little red box, as it would be in the open 
 air, upon the grass, or upon the leaves, which it usually 
 eats." 
 
 " But, mamma, I would give it leaves to eat in the 
 little red box." 
 
 " But, Frank, you do not know what leaves it likes 
 best to eat ; and, if you do not shut it up in your red 
 box, it will find the leaves for itself which it loves 
 best." 
 
 " Then, if you do not think it would be happy in my 
 red box, mamma, I will not shut it up in it I will leave 
 it to go where it pleases, with its own pretty shell upon 
 its back that is what I should like if I was a snail, I 
 believe." 
 
 He then took the snail, and put it upon the grass, and 
 left it ; and he went into the house with his mother, and 
 she called him into her room ; and she took out of her 
 bureau something, which she held to Frank's ear; and 
 he heard a noise like the sound of water boiling ; then 
 she put into Frank's hands what she had held to his 
 ear ; and he saw that it was a large shell, speckled red, 
 and brown, and white ; it was so large that his little 
 fingers could hardly grasp it. 
 
 " Do you like it as well as you did the snail-shell V 
 
 " Oh yes, a great deal better, mamma." 
 
 "Then I will give it to you, my dear," said his 
 mother. 
 
 " Keep it," said his father ; " and, even if you keep 
 it till you are as old as I am, you will feel pleasure 
 when you look at it ; for you will recollect that your 
 mother was pleased with you when she gave it to you, 
 because you had been good-natured to a poor tittle 
 snail."
 
 FRANK. 51 
 
 " WHAT was it, mamma," said Frank, " that papa was 
 saying to you just after you were looking at the snail ?" 
 
 "I do not recollect, my dear." 
 
 " I wish you would be so good as to try to recollect, 
 mamma, because it sounded very pretty, and I should 
 like to hear it again. It seemed like something out of a 
 book it was something about horned snails, and var- 
 nished shells, and sliding " 
 
 " Do you mean, 
 
 " ' Slide here, ye horned snails with varnished shells ?' " 
 
 " Oh, yes, mamma," cried Frank, " that is what I 
 mean; but papa said a great deal more of it will you 
 say it for me ]" 
 
 " I will repeat the lines, that you may hear the agree- 
 able sound ; but I do not think that you can understand 
 the sense of them yet," said his mother : and she re- 
 peated to him the following lines : 
 
 " ' Stay thy soft murmuring waters, gentle rill ; 
 
 Hush, whispering winds ; ye rustling leaves, be still ; 
 Rest, silver butterflies, your quivering wings ; 
 Alight, ye beetles, from your airy rings ; 
 Ye painted moths, your gold-eyed plumage furl, 
 Bow your wide horns, your spiral trunks uncurl ; 
 Glitter, ye glow-worms, on your mossy beds ; 
 Descend, ye spiders, on your lengthened threads ; 
 Slide here, ye horned snails with varnished shells ; 
 Ye bee-nymphs, listen in your waxen cells.' "* 
 
 ' r M I do not understand the last line, mamma, at all ; but 
 I understand about the spiders coming down on their 
 long threads I have often looked at spiders doing that 
 but, mamma, I never saw any moths that had trunks ; 
 I do not think that a moth could carry a trunk." 
 
 " What do you think is meant by a trunk, my dear 1 ?" 
 
 ** A sort of box." 
 
 " That J3 one meaning of the word trunk do you 
 know any other meaning V 
 
 " Yes ; a trunk of a tree." 
 
 " And did you never see the picture of the trunk of 
 an elephant V 
 
 " Yes, yes, mamma ; I remember seeing that, and I 
 remember you read to me an account of the elephant ; 
 and you told me that he could curl up that trunk of his 
 
 yi.-< * Darwin, 
 
 C2
 
 52 PRANK. 
 
 but, mamma, such moths as I have seen are little fly- 
 ing animals, about as large as a butterfly : they could 
 not have such trunks as elephants have." 
 
 " No, they have not : they have not such large 
 trunks." 
 
 " Will you tell me what sort of trunks they have V 
 " I will show you, the first time we see a moth." 
 " Thank you, mamma : and I wish you could show 
 me a glow-worm I have seen a beetle but, mamma, 
 will you say that part about the beetle again 1" 
 
 " Alight, ye beetles, from your airy rings." 
 
 " What does that mean, mamma V 
 
 " Beetles sometimes fly round and round in the air, 
 so as to make the shape of circles or rings m the air; 
 and alight, here means, come down from alight upon 
 the ground, or settle upon the ground." 
 
 " And silver butterflies, mamma, does not mean made 
 of silver, but that they look shining like silver ; does 
 not it ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 " But I wish very much, mamma, to see the glow- 
 worms that lie on the mossy beds." 
 
 " I will try if I can find a glow-worm, and show it to 
 you this evening," said his mother. 
 
 Jn the evening, when it was dusk, Frank's mother 
 called him, and bid him follow her ; and she went down 
 a lane that was near their house, and Frank followed 
 her. She looked from side to side, on the banks and 
 under the hedges, as she walked along. 
 
 "Are you looking for a glow-worm, mamma?" said 
 Frank ; " it is so dark now that I am afraid we shall 
 not see it, unless it is a great deal larger than the com- 
 mon worm, or unless we had a lantern may I go back 
 for the little lantern that is in the hall ; there is a candle 
 ready lighted in it, mamma may I go back for it, 
 mamma?" 
 
 " No, my dear ; we shall not want a lantern, nor a 
 candle we shall be more likely to find a glow-worm in 
 the dark than if we had a candle." 
 
 Frank was surprised at hearing his mother say this 
 "I can always find things better in the light than in the 
 dark," said he. But, just as he finished speaking, he 
 saw a light upon the bank, near the place where his 
 mother was standing ; and she called to him, and said,
 
 PRANK. 53 
 
 11 Here is a glow-worm, Frank : come nearer to me, 
 and you will see it better." 
 
 Frank kneeled down upon the bank beside his 
 mother ; and he saw that the light seemed to come 
 from the tail of a little brown caterpillar. 
 
 The caterpillar crawled on upon the bank ; and the 
 light moved on whenever the caterpillar moved, and 
 stood still whenever it stood still. 
 
 Frank's mother, while the glow-worm was standing 
 still, put her hand down upon the bank close beside it ; 
 and, by-and-by, the glow-worm began to move again; 
 and it crawled upon her hand. 
 
 " O mamma ! take care," cried Frank ; " it will burn 
 you." 
 
 " No, my dear, it will not burn me, it will not hurt 
 me," said his mother : and she held her hand towards 
 Frank ; and he saw the glow-worm upon it. 
 
 " Shall I put it in your hand!" said his mother. 
 
 Frank drew back, as if he was still a little afraid that 
 it should burn him. 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, " it will not hurt you 
 you know that I would not tell you that it would not 
 hurt you if it would you know that I told you the hot 
 melting sealing-wax would scald you if you let it drop 
 upon your fingers, and it did but I tell you that the 
 light which you see about this animal will not burn 
 you, as the flame of a candle or as the fire would." 
 
 " Then here is my hand, mamma put the glow-worm 
 upon it, and I will not shrink back again," said Frank. 
 
 He found that the light from the glow-worm did not 
 hurt him in the least ; and he asked his mother how it 
 came that this, which looked so much like the flame 
 of a candle, should not burn him. 
 
 But she answered, " I cannot explain that to you, 
 my dear." 
 
 And when Frank had looked at the glow-worm as 
 long as he liked to do so, his mother desired him to put 
 it again upon the bank, and he did so ; and before they 
 got home, Frank saw several other glow-worms upon 
 the banks, and his mother said to him, " Now you know 
 the meaning of 
 
 " ' Glitter, ye glow-worms, on your mossy beds.' " 
 
 " Yes," said Frank ; "glitter means look bright, shine 
 thank you, mamma, for showing me these glow-
 
 54 FRANK. 
 
 worms ; and, some time or other, I hope we shall see 
 the trunk of a moth." 
 
 THE candles were lighted, and all the window-shut- 
 ters in the room were shut, except the shutters of one 
 window, which were left open to let in air ; for it was a 
 warm evening. 
 
 Frank's mother was sitting upon a sofa, reading ; and 
 Frank was kneeling upon a chair at the table upon 
 which the candles stood. He was looking at some 
 prints in a book which his mother had lent to him. 
 
 Through the window, which was open, there flew 
 into the room a large moth it flew towards the candle. 
 
 " O mamma ! here is a moth," cried Frank. 
 
 As he spoke, the moth, which had flown very quickly 
 round and round the candle two or three times, went 
 so close to the flame that Frank thought it would burn 
 itself to death; and he cried, " Oh, it will bum itself!" 
 and he put his hand before his eyes, that he might not 
 see the moth burn itself but his mother did not put her 
 hand before her eyes : she got up as quickly as possi- 
 ble, and put her hand gently over the moth, and caught 
 it, and so prevented it from burning itself in the candle. 
 
 " I am glad you have caught it, mamma," said Frank ; 
 " and the next time I will try to catch it as you did ; 
 and I will not put my hands before my eyes, because 
 that did the moth no good." 
 
 His mother then covered the moth with a glass tum- 
 bler, and she put it upon the table ; and Frank looked 
 through the glass, and he saw it plainly. 
 
 When the moth was quiet, Frank's mother took a 
 honeysuckle out of her nosegay ; and she lifted up one 
 side of the tumbler a little way from the table, and she 
 squeezed the honeysuckle under the tumbler ; and as 
 soon as the moth perceived the flower was near him, 
 he walked upon it, and Frank saw him uncurl what 
 is called his trunk, or proboscis ; and he saw the moth 
 dip it into part of the flower of. the honeysuckle and 
 he saw also what were called the horns of the moth ; 
 and he saw the animal bow them forwards ; and he 
 said, " Now, mamma, will you repeat those two line* 
 about the moth again for me ?" 
 
 " ' Ye painted moths, your gold -eyed plumage furl ; 
 Bow your wide boras, your spiral trunks uncurl.' "
 
 FRANK. 55 
 
 " Painted /" said Frank " it does not mean that the 
 moth is painted, I suppose, but that it looks as if it was 
 painted. Gold-eyed plumage, mamma ! What does that 
 mean ?" 
 
 " Plumage means feathers, such as you see on birds. 
 Look through this glass," said his mother, putting a 
 magnifying-glass into his hand. 
 
 4 ' I have looked through this glass before at a cater- 
 pillar, mamma ; it makes things look larger." 
 
 His mother lifted up the tumbler gently ; and as the 
 moth was settled upon the honeysuckle, Frank looked 
 through the magnifying-glass at it. 
 
 " Mamma, it looks very large : and upon its wings," 
 said Frank, " I see what look like very, very small 
 feathers." 
 
 " That is what is meant by plumage." 
 
 " But gold-eyed, mamma ! 1 see no gold eyes." 
 
 " Do you see some spots upon the wings !" 
 
 "Dark-brown spots, mamma 1" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " They are of the shape of eyes ; and though they 
 are not eyes, they are called so from their shape. In 
 some moths those spots are yellow, gold-coloured : and 
 then they may be called gold-eyed" 
 
 " One thing more, mamma," said Frank : " What does 
 
 it mean by Would you be so good as to say the 
 
 first line again ; for I do not recollect the word that I 
 did not understand." 
 
 His mother repeated the line again 
 
 " ' Ye painted moths, your gold-eyed plumage furl ;' " 
 
 " Furl, mamma furl is the word which I do not un- 
 derstand." 
 
 His mother showed him a fan, and showed him what 
 is meant by to furl and unfurl a fan ; and when the moth 
 closed and afterward spread its wings, she said, " Now 
 he is furling, and now he is unfurling his pretty wings : 
 furl and unfurl are seamen's phrases, and are used met- 
 aphorically in speaking of a fan, or of a moth's wings." 
 
 " Metaphorically ! mamma," said Frank ; " I think 
 that is a harder word than furl." 
 
 " It is, my dear," said his mother, " but I will explain 
 it to you. When a word, that properly belongs to one 
 kind of thing, is made use of in speaking of another 
 kind of thing, then it is used metaphorically as the word
 
 66 PRANK. 
 
 furl, which is properly used in speaking of the 'sails of 
 a ship, and metaphorically in speaking of a moth's wings. 
 But now I think we have kept the poor moth long enough 
 under this glass we will now let him fly about where 
 he pleases." So she took the moth, and let him fly out 
 of the window. 
 
 " Do you know, mamma," said Frank, " that T can re- 
 peat those two lines about the moths T I wish you 
 would say the other lines again for me, that I might 
 learn them all, and then say them to my father; I think 
 he would like to hear me say them after dinner, to-mor- 
 row, mamma." 
 
 " I think your father will like to hear you repeat 
 them if you understand them all, but not otherwise." 
 
 " I think I do understand them all every one now, 
 mamma, except something in the last line about bees in 
 their waxen cells." 
 
 " You never saw a honeycomb, did you, Frank 1" 
 
 " No, mamma, never." 
 
 " When^ou see a honeycomb, you will know what is 
 meant by the waxen cells in which bees live." 
 
 THE next morning, at breakfast, there was part of a 
 honeycomb upon a plate on the breakfast-table ; and 
 Frank's mother showed it to him ; and she gave him 
 some honey. He liked the sweet taste of the honey: 
 and he thought the honeycomb was very pretty. His 
 mother gave him a little bit of the honeycomb, which 
 she told him was made of wax. 
 
 " It is quite a different sort of wax from sealing-wax, 
 mamma," said Frank: "where does this wax come 
 from, and this pretty honeycomb, and this sweet honey V 
 
 His mother told him that she would show him where 
 they all came from, when she had finished eating her 
 breakfast. And, after breakfast was over, she took 
 Frank with her to a cottage, belonging to an old woman 
 in the neighbourhood. 
 
 The old woman was sitting at her door, turning a 
 small wheel very quickly round, which Frank's mother 
 told him was called a spinning-wheel. 
 
 The old woman pushed her spinning-wheel on one 
 side, and got up, as soon as they came to the door. 
 
 " Thank you for the good honey you sent us, Mrs. 
 ^Vheeler," said Frank's mother.
 
 FRANK. 67 
 
 " You are heartily welcome, ma'am, I'm sure," said 
 the old woman; "but it was not I that sent it; it was 
 my grandson sent it to you George! George! are you 
 there?" 
 
 A little boy came running to the door : and he smiled 
 when he saw Frank, and Frank smiled when he saw 
 him ; for he recollected that this was the same boy to 
 whom he had returned the nuts which he had found 
 dropped near the stile the same boy who had brought 
 him back his ripe bunch of cherries. 
 
 " Thank you for the honey you sent us," said Frank's 
 mother to this boy ; " will you be so good as to let us 
 look at your beehive ? I hear that you have a glass 
 beehive." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I have," said the boy ; " and if you will 
 be pleased to come with me into the garden, I will show 
 it to you I have a glass beehive, and I have a straw 
 beehive." 
 
 Frank and his mother followed the boy, who ran 
 across a narrow passage, which went straight through 
 the house ; and he opened a low gate, and took them 
 into a small garden. The paths were narrow; and he 
 said to Frank, " Take care that you do not prick your- 
 self against the gooseberry-bushes, as I do when I am 
 in a hurry to get by." 
 
 Frank took care not to prick himself; and the boy 
 pointed to his beehives, and said, " There are my bee- 
 hives, and there are my bees." 
 
 " Did bees make that straw basket 1" said Frank. 
 
 The boy laughed so much at this question, that he 
 could make no answer ; but Frank's mother answered, 
 " No, my dear ; the bees did not make that straw bas- 
 ket ; that was made by men : but go and look in through 
 the little pane of glass in that wooden box, and you will 
 see what bees mafce." 
 
 " Do not you know," said the little boy, " what bees 
 make ! I thought everybody knew that bees make 
 honey and wax." 
 
 " How can they make honey ? What do they make it 
 of!" said Frank. 
 
 " They collect it ; they get it from flowers," answered 
 his mother; and she said to the boy, "May I gather 
 this honeysuckle?" touching a honeysuckle which 
 grew in an arbour close beside the place where she 
 stood. 
 
 C3
 
 58 FRANK. 
 
 "Yes, and welcome, ma'am," said the boy; "that 
 honeysuckle is mine : grandmother gave it to me." 
 
 When Frank's mother had gathered the honeysuckle, 
 she pulled off a part, of the flower ; and she held that 
 end of the flower which grew next the stalk to Frank's 
 mouth, and she bid him suck it. 
 
 He sucked it. 
 
 " It has a sweet taste like honey," said Frank. " Is 
 that the reason the flower is called honeysuckle, mam- 
 mar' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear, I believe it is." 
 
 'And have all flowers honey in them, mamma'?" 
 
 'I do not know, my dear; but I know that some 
 flowers have more honey in them than others." 
 
 'And how do bees get honey from flowers'?" 
 
 ' Look, and you may see a bee now settling upon 
 that honeysuckle in the arbour : you will see all that I 
 have seen, if you use your own little eyes." 
 
 Frank used his own little eyes : and he saw that the 
 bee stretched out his proboscis, or trunk, and put it 
 down into the flower, then drew it back again, and flew 
 to another part of the flower, settled again, and again 
 put down its proboscis, drew it back, and put it to its 
 mouth. 
 
 " I fancy, mamma, the bee sucks the honey, which it 
 gets in the flower, from its proboscis, every time it puts 
 it to its mouth but I am not sure, because I do not see 
 the honey." 
 
 " You are very right not to say that you are sure of 
 it, as you do not see it ; but I believe that the bee does, 
 as you say, draw the honey from flowers with that pro- 
 boscis ; and then he puts the honey into his mouth, and 
 then swallows the honey. "With a good magnifying- 
 glass, you might see that the proboscis of the bee is 
 rough, and you might see the little drops of honey stick- 
 ing to it. The bee gets but one or two very small drops 
 of honey from one flower." 
 
 " What a great deal of work it must be, then, for the 
 bees to collect as much honey as I ate this morning at 
 breakfast! But, mamma, does this bee swallow all the 
 honey it gets from this flower V 
 
 " Yes, the bee swallows it ; it keeps the honey in a 
 little bag, and the bee has the power of forcing it up 
 again from this bag, whenever it pleases. Usually, the 
 bee carries the honey home to the hive, and puts it in
 
 FRANK. 59 
 
 the little waxen cells; such as those you saw in the 
 honeycomb to-day at breakfast." 
 
 "And where do the bees get the wax, mamma, of 
 which they make the cells in the honeycomb ?" 
 
 " 1 am not sure, my dear, what that wax is I believe 
 that it is made partly of farina which the bees collect 
 from the flowers, and partly of some sticky substance 
 in the stomachs of bees. Some time or other you will 
 read the accounts which have been written of bees, and 
 then you will judge for yourself." 
 
 Frank looked through the glass pane into the bee- 
 hive ; but he said, that the bees crowded so close to one 
 another, that he could not see what they were doing. 
 
 His mother told him that some other day she would 
 bring him again to see the bees at work, and that, by 
 degrees, perhaps he would distinguish them, and see 
 what they were doing. 
 
 When Frank went home, he said, " Now, mamma, 
 that I know what is meant by the bees in their waxen 
 cells, may I learn those lines, and will you repeat them 
 to me !" 
 
 " It is troublesome to me, my dear," said his mother, 
 " to repeat them so often over ; but here is a book in 
 which you can read them yourself; and you may now 
 learn them by rote if you like it." 
 
 FRANK read the lines over and over, and tried to learn 
 them by rote ; and at last he could repeat them, as he 
 thought, perfectly ; and one day, after dinner, he went 
 to his father, and told him that he could repeat some 
 pretty lines to him if he would give him leave. 
 
 " I shall be glad to hear them, Frank," said his father ; 
 "begin and repeat them." So Frank repeated them, 
 without making any mistakes ; and, when he had re- 
 peated them, his father asked him several questions 
 about them, to try whether he understood them ; and 
 his father was pleased to find that he really did under- 
 stand ; and Frank told him that his mother had been so 
 good as to show him a glow-worm, and a moth, and a 
 beehive ; and that she had explained to him all the 
 words in the lines which he did not at first understand. 
 
 " I am glad, my dear," said his father, " that you have 
 had so much amusement, and that you have had the 
 perseverance to learn any thing well that you begin to
 
 60 FRANK. 
 
 learn. But pray tell me why you have been continu- 
 ally buttoning and unbuttoning the left sleeve of your 
 coat while you have been talking to me, and while you 
 were repeating these verses ?" 
 
 " I do not know, papa," said Frank, laughing ; " only 
 I remember, that, when I was getting the verses by 
 rote, and saying them by myself, I first began buttoning 
 and unbuttoning this sleeve, and then I could not say 
 the verses so well without doing that." : 
 
 " And do you not remember, Frank," said his mother, 
 " that I spoke to you several times, and told you that I 
 was afraid you would get a trick, a habit of "buttoning 
 and unbuttoning that sleeve of yours, if you did not take 
 care 1" 
 
 " Yes, mamma," said Frank ; " and I stopped when- 
 ever you spoke to me, and whenever I remembered it : 
 but then I found myself doing it again without thinking 
 of it ; and now, whenever I am trying to recollect any 
 thing, I cannot recollect it half so well without button, 
 ing and unbuttoning my sleeve." 
 
 " Give me your right hand," said his father. 
 
 Frank gave his hand to his father. 
 
 " Now," said his father, " repeat those lines to me 
 once more." 
 
 Frank began 
 
 " ' Stay thy soft-murmuring waters, gentle rill ; 
 Hush, whispering winds ' " 
 
 But here he twitched his hand which his father held 
 fast 
 
 " ' Hush, whispering winds ' " 
 
 ' Father, I cannot say it while you hold my hand." 
 His father let go his hand. 
 
 Frank immediately buttoned and unbuttoned his 
 sleeve, and then repeated very fluently 
 
 " ' Hush, whispering winds ; ye rustling leaves, be still ; 
 Rest, silver butterflies ' " 
 
 But here his father caught hold of his right hand ; and 
 he could get no further. 
 
 " My dear," said his father, " it would be very incon- 
 venient to you if your memory was to depend upon 
 your button ; for you see that I can make you forget all 
 you have to say in an instant, by only catching hold of 
 your hand."
 
 FRANK. 61 
 
 " But, then, papa, if you would be so good as not ta 
 catch hold of my hand," said Frank, " you would hear 
 how well I could repeat the lines." 
 
 " It is of little consequence," said his father, " whether 
 you repeat these lines to-day or to-morrow ; but it is 
 of great consequence that you should not learn foolish, 
 awkward tricks ; therefore, I beg you will not say them 
 to me again, till you can hold yourself perfectly still 
 while you are repeating them." 
 
 ' FRANK'S father and mother went out to walk, and 
 Frank went with them. " Oh, I am glad you are going 
 this way," said Frank, " because now I shall see the 
 swing." 
 
 His father had had a swing put up between two trees. 
 Frank had seen it from the window of the room in which 
 he slept ; but he had never yet been close to it, and he 
 wished very much to see it, and to swing in it. 
 
 When he came up to it, he found that there was a 
 soft cushion fastened to the middle of the rope of which 
 the swing was made. 
 
 One end of the rope was tied round the trunk of a 
 large ash-tree, and the other end of the rope was tied 
 round the trunk of an oak that was opposite to the ash. 
 
 The rope was tied towards the top of the trees ; and 
 some of the branches of the trees were cut away, so 
 that the rope could swing backwards and forwards with- 
 out catching in any thing. 
 
 The cushion, which made the seat of the swing, hung 
 so near the ground that Frank could reach it ; and he 
 asked his father whether he might sit upon it. 
 
 His father told him that he might : and he said, " Take 
 hold of the cord on each side of you, and hold it fast, 
 and your mother and I will swing you." 
 
 Frank jumped up on the cushion directly, and seated 
 himself, and took hold of the cord on each side of him, 
 with each of his hands. 
 
 " You must take care not to let go the cord while we 
 are swinging you," said his father, " or perhaps you will 
 tumble out of the swing and be hurt hold up your fee , 
 that they may not touch the ground." 
 
 " I will not let go, papa : I will hold fast," said Frank : 
 and his father and mother began to swing him back- 
 wards and forwards : he liked it very much ; but it was 
 6
 
 62 FRANK. 
 
 a sharp evening in autumn, and his father and mother 
 did not like to stand still long to swing him. 
 
 " When you have had twenty mere swings backwards 
 and forwards, we will stop, Frank," said his father. So 
 Frank began to count the swings ; and while he was 
 counting, a leaf fell from the tree, and put him out ; and 
 he tried to recollect whether the last number of swings 
 he had counted to himself was six or seven ; and the 
 moment he began to try to recollect this, he let go the 
 cord with his right hand ; for he was going to button and 
 unbutton his sleeve, as he had the habit of doing when 
 he was trying to recollect any thing. 
 
 The moment he let go the cord, he twisted a little in 
 the seat, and could not catch the cord again ; and he fell 
 out of the swing. 
 
 He fell on the grass, and he hurt his ankle, but not 
 much. 
 
 " It is well you were not more hurt," said his father. 
 " If we had been swinging you higher, and if you had 
 fallen upon the gravel-walk instead of on the grass, you 
 might have been very much hurt. My dear, why did 
 you let go the cord 1" 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, " because I was trying to rec- 
 ollect whether it was six swings or seven that I had 
 had." 
 
 " Well, and could not you recollect that without let- 
 ting go the cord ?" 
 
 "No, papa the thing was that I was, I believe, 
 going to button my sleeve I wish I had not that trick." 
 
 " You may cure yourself of it, if you take pains to do 
 so," said his father. 
 
 " I wish I could," said Frank : " my ankle is not very 
 much hurt, however. Papa, will you put me into the 
 swing again, and I think I shall take more care not to 
 let go the cord now you know I have not had all my 
 twenty swings, papa." 
 
 " No : you have had but eight," said his father; " but 
 I am afraid, that if I were to put you into the swing 
 again, and if you were to begin counting again, if you 
 should not be able to recollect the number, you would 
 let go the cord to button your sleeve, and you would 
 slip out of the swing again." 
 
 "No, papa," said Frank, "I think this is the very 
 thing that would cure me of that trick, because that I 
 do not like to tumble down and hurt myself; and I think
 
 FRANK. 63 
 
 J should take care, and count, and recollect, without 
 buttoning or unbuttoning this sleeve may I try, papa V' 
 
 His father shook hands with him, and said, " I am 
 glad to see that you can bear a little pain, and that you 
 wish to cure yourself of this foolish trick jump, my 
 boy," said his father: and Frank sprung up, and his 
 father seated him in the swing again. 
 ' He counted, and held fast by the rope, this time ; and 
 just when he was come to the eighteenth swing, his 
 father said to him, " Can you recollect the last number 
 you counted, without letting go the rope to button your 
 sleeve V 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Frank, " I can : it was seventeen." 
 
 " And you have had two swings since I spoke last ; 
 how many does that make V 
 
 Frank was just going to let go the cord to button his 
 sleeve ; but he recollected his former tumble he held 
 fast; and, after thinking for an instant, answered, 
 " Seventeen swings and two swings make nineteen 
 swings." 
 
 His father then gave him one good swing more, and 
 then lifted him out ; and his mother kissed him. 
 
 The next day his father was going from home ; and 
 when he took leave of Frank, Frank asked him if there 
 was any thing he could do for him while he was away. 
 " May I dust the books in your study, papa ? I can do 
 that," said Frank. 
 
 " I would rather, my dear," said his father, " that you 
 should, while I am away, learn to repeat the lines which 
 you got by heart, without " 
 
 " I know what you mean, papa ; I will try if I can." 
 
 His father went away ; and Frank, after he was gone, 
 asked his mother if she would take him to the swing, and 
 swing him, and let him try whether he could recollect 
 some of the verses while he was swinging ; " For then, 
 you know, mamma, I cannot move my hands without 
 tumbling out ; and I shall take care." 
 
 But his mother said that she did not choose to swing 
 him while his father was away ; and Frank soon after- 
 ward said, " Will you be so good, then, mamma, as to 
 cut off this button, and to sew up this buttonhole for 
 me 1 and then I cannot button and unbutton it." 
 
 His mother cut off the button, and sewed up the but- 
 tonhole ; and several times, when he was trying to re- 
 peat the lines, he felt for the button and buttonhole;
 
 64 FRANK. 
 
 but when he found that the button was gone, and that 
 he could not put his finger into the buttonhole, he by 
 degrees left off feeling for them. 
 
 His father stayed away a week ; and in this time 
 Frank quite cured himself of the foolish trick which he 
 had had, and he repeated the lines to himself, while he 
 held his hands quite still. 
 
 He asked his mother to sew on the button again, and 
 to open the buttonhole, the day his father came home ; 
 and she did so. 
 
 And when his father came home, and after he had 
 said, " How do you do, father !" Frank cried, " May I 
 say the lines now, father ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 He stood opposite to his father, held his hands per- 
 fectly still, and repeated the lines without making a sin- 
 gle mistake. 
 
 His father was pleased ; and he desired the servant, 
 who was bringing some things of his out of the chaise 
 in which he came, to give him a book that was in the 
 front pocket of the ohaise. 
 
 The book was Bewick's History of Quadrupeds : it 
 had very pretty prints in it. Frank's father wrote in a 
 
 blank page at the beginning of it 
 
 . 
 
 " This book was given to Frank, October the 27th, 1798, 
 by his father, as a mark of his father's approbation for his 
 having, at six years old, cured himself of a foolish habit " 
 
 " Read that, if you can, Frank," said his father. 
 
 Frank could not read all the words, for he was not 
 used to read writing ; but his mother read it to him. 
 
 And Frank liked the prints in this book very much ; 
 and he said, " Shall I read all that is in the book, 
 papa ?" 
 
 " Read only what you can understand, and what en- 
 tertains you in it, my dear," said his father. 
 
 FRANK was kneeling upon the chair beside the table 
 upon which his mother was writing. He was looking 
 at the prints in his Bewick ; and every minute he ex- 
 claimed, " O mamma, look at this ! mamma, here is a 
 very pretty print ! Only look at this one, mamma the
 
 FRANK. 65 
 
 old, old man, going over a narrow bridge, and his dog 
 leading him he is a blind man, I suppose ; and the 
 wind has blown his hat off, and it is raining very hard 
 pray look, mamma !" 
 
 His mother put down her pen ; and she looked at the 
 print, which she said was very pretty. 
 
 " But now, Frank," added she, " do not interrupt me 
 any more." 
 
 Frank was silent after this ; but, whenever he turned 
 over a new leaf, he put down both his elbows upon the 
 table to look at the new print ; and he shook the table 
 so that his mother could not write : wherefore she at 
 last desired him to take his book to another table. 
 
 He did so ; but he said that he could not see nearly 
 so well as when he was nearer to the light. 
 
 " If you had not disturbed me," said his mother, " I 
 should not have sent you away from this table. You 
 should consider what is agreeable to others, or they will 
 not consider what is agreeable to you." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " if you will let me come 
 back to the table where you are sitting, I will take care 
 not to shake the table." 
 
 His mother told Frank that he might come ; and he 
 took care not to shake the table. 
 
 A little while after this, he was trying to draw the old 
 man going over the bridge. Pompey, a little dog that 
 was in the room, jumped up suddenly behind Frank's 
 chair, and shook the table. 
 
 " Fy ! Pompey ! fy ! down ! down !" cried Frank 
 " I don't like you, Pompey, at all." 
 
 " Why don't you like Pompey V said Frank's mother 
 " you generally are very fond of him." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, so I am fond of him, generally ; but I 
 don't like him now, because he shook me, and hindered 
 me drawing. Oh, Pompey ! Pompey ! again you gave 
 my elbow a great shake look, mamma, just as I was 
 drawing the old man's nose, he shook me." 
 
 " Who 1 the old man 1" 
 
 " No, mamma, but Pompey. Just as I was drawing 
 the old man's nose, Pompey shook me, and made me 
 make the old man's nose as large as his whole head 
 Oh, Pompey '. you have spoiled my old man entirely 
 but I'll rub out his nose, and draw it over again." 
 
 Just as Frank had finished drawing the old man's 
 nose over again, the dog shook him again : and Frank
 
 66 
 
 PRANK. 
 
 was angry. " Don't shake, Pompey I have bid you 
 several times not to shake, and still you go on shaking 
 naughty Pompey ! Why don't you do as you are bid ?" 
 
 " Perhaps the dog does not understand you," said 
 Frank's mother. 
 
 " Well, but it is very disagreeable that he should 
 shake the table. I don't like him at all to-night." 
 
 Here Frank began struggling with Pompey. Pompey 
 had his fore paws upon the table, and Frank was trying 
 to drag him back by the hind legs ; but all this strug- 
 gling shook the table very much. 
 
 " Frank, I don't like either you or Pompey, now," 
 said Frank's mother, " because you both of you shake 
 the table, so that I cannot write. Look, here is an O 
 that is as crooked as your old man's nose." 
 
 " I am very sorry, mamma," said Frank ; " but will 
 you be so kind as to put Pompey out of the room ; and 
 then we shall all be quiet and happy. You know you 
 sent me to another table when I was troublesome ; and 
 now if you put Pompey out of the room, he cannot be 
 troublesome to us any more." 
 
 " Very true," said his mother; and she put Pompey 
 out of the room. 
 
 " I am glad he is gone," cried Frank ; " now I can 
 draw nicely." 
 
 " And now I can write nicely," said his mother. 
 
 " Mamma, are you glad when I go out of the room 
 after I have been troublesome, as we are now that we 
 have got rid of Pompey 1" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But when I am not troublesome, you are not glad 
 when I go out of the room 1" 
 
 " No ; I am glad to have you with me when you are 
 not troublesome." 
 
 " And you are more glad to have me with you when 
 I am useful to you, as 1 was yesterday, when I helped 
 you to cut open the leaves of those new books which 
 you wanted to read. You liked me very much then, 
 when you said I was useful to you." 
 
 " Yes ; people like those that are useful to them.' 
 
 " And I like to be liked, mamma, by you more than 
 by anybody, so I will try always to be as useful to you 
 as I can. I can be useful to you now, mamma, if you 
 will give me leave." 
 
 "I will give you leave, and welcome, Frank," said
 
 FRANK. 6fr 
 
 his mother, smiling. So Frank went for a little bit of 
 wood which his father had given to him ; and he cut it 
 with his knife into the shape of a wedge ; and he put 
 this wedge under one of the legs of the table, which 
 was shorter than the other legs ; and the table was now 
 much steadier than it was before. 
 
 " Now, mamma," said Frank, " try to shake the table, 
 and you will feel how steady it is. I can put my elbow 
 upon it now without shaking it ; and I dare say, even 
 Pompey would not shake it if he was to leap up as he 
 did just now. Is not my wedge useful, mamma ?" 
 
 '' Yes ; thank you for it, my dear." 
 
 " And now, mamma, may I open the door and let 
 poor Pompey in again, for he cannot easily shake us 
 now ?" 
 
 Frank's mother told him that he might let Pompey 
 in again ; and when Frank opened the door, he saw 
 Pompey sitting upon his hind legs, holding something 
 up in his fore paws. 
 
 " O mamma, it is ray glove," cried Frank; "the glove 
 that I lost yesterday. Useful Pompey ! I like you for 
 finding my glove. Useful Pompey ! Come in, useful 
 Pompey 1" 
 
 ONE evening at tea-time there was a small plumcake 
 upon a plate on the tea-table ; and there was a knife be- 
 side the plate. Frank's father and mother, and two of 
 his brothers, were sitting round the table ; his mother 
 was beginning to pour out the tea ; and she called to 
 Frank, and said to him, " My dear, cut this plumcake 
 into five pieces for us ; and take care that you make all 
 the pieces of the same size, for your father, and your 
 two brothers, and yourself, and me ; and give us each a 
 just share." 
 
 Frank began to cut the cake ; but, by mistake, Tie 
 divided it into six parts instead of into five. 
 
 " Mamma," said he, " what shall I do with this bit ? 
 I have five without it ; one for you, and one for my 
 father, and one for my brother Edward, and one for my 
 brother Harry, and one for myself. What shall I do 
 with this bit that is left ?" 
 
 . " What is it most just to do with it V 
 
 **J[ think I had better keep it myself, mamma, be-'
 
 68 FRANK. 
 
 cause it belongs to nobody ; and I should have it for the 
 trouble of cutting the cake for everybod}'." 
 
 " No," said his brother Henry, " I do not think that 
 would be just, because then you would be rewarded for 
 making a mistake ; if you had cut the cake rightly, 
 there would not be this bit to spare." 
 
 " Well," said Frank, " I do not think it would be just 
 that I should have it ; but who, then, shall I give it to 1 
 I will give it to you, mamma, because I like to give it 
 to you best. No, I will give it to papa, because he likes 
 plumcake better than you do. Stay, I will give it to 
 you, good Henry, because you mended my kite for me. 
 No, indeed, I must give it to poor Edward, because 
 he had no cherry-pie to-day at dinner." 
 
 " But," said his mother, " what right have you, 
 Frank, to give this bit of cake to poor Edward, because 
 he had no cherry-pie to-day at dinner ; or to good 
 Henry, because he mended your kite ; or to your father, 
 because he loves plumcake better than I do ; or to me, 
 because you like to give it to me 1 What right have 
 you to give it to any of us V 
 
 " Mamma, you said that I was to give each of you 
 your just share ; and I thought I was to be judge." 
 
 " Remember, that I desired you to divide the cake 
 into five pieces, all of the same size ; you were to judge 
 about the size of the pieces ; and you were to take care 
 that we have each our just shares; but you are going 
 to give one of us twice as much as any of the others." 
 
 " I cannot make the pieces the right size now, 
 mamma." 
 
 " But you can give us each equal quantities of cake, 
 cannot you 1 !" 
 
 " How, mamma 1 ?" 
 
 " Think when you are trusted to divide any thing, 
 you must take the trouble, Mr. Judge, to consider how 
 it is to be done fairly." 
 
 Frank took the trouble to think ; and he then cut the 
 spare bit of cake into five equal parts ; and he put these 
 parts by the side of the five large pieces of cake ; and 
 he gave one of the large pieces and one of the little 
 pieces to each person ; and he then said, " I believe I 
 have divided the cake fairly now." Everybody pres- 
 ent saidj' Yes ;" and everybody looked carefully at each 
 of the shares ; and there appeared exactly the same 
 quantity ia each share. So each person took his por-
 
 FRANK. C9 
 
 tion ; and all were satisfied. Justice satisfies every- 
 body. 
 
 " My dear Frank," said his mother, " as you have di- 
 vided the cake so fairly, let us see how you will divide 
 the sugar that was upon the top of the eake, and which 
 is now broken and crumbled to pieces upon the plate. 
 We all like that sugar ; divide it equally among us." 
 
 " But this will be very difficult to do, mamma," said 
 Frank, " because the pieces of sugar are all of such dif- 
 ferent sizes and shapes ; and here are so many crumbs 
 of cake mixed with the crumbs of sugar, I do not know 
 how I shall ever divide it exactly. Will it do if I do 
 not divide quite exactly, marnma V 
 
 " No," said his mother, " I beg you will divide it quite 
 exactly : you can do it if you take the right way to 
 do it." 
 
 Frank first took out all the largest bits of sugar, and 
 laid them upon one another, and broke off the corners 
 and edges till he thought he made five of them of the 
 same size exactly; and then he divided the crumbs 
 and little broken bits into five heaps, which he thought 
 seemed to be of the same size. 
 
 But when he had done, his brother Henry said, " This 
 heap next me is a great deal larger than any one of the 
 others." 
 
 And Edward said, " My heap is taller than yours, but 
 it is not so closely squeezed together ; and that makes 
 a great difference." 
 
 And his father said, " Frank, my large bit of sugar is 
 twice as big as your largest bit." 
 
 " O no, indeed, papa, I measured them ; and they are 
 exactly the same size ; put yours upon mine, and you 
 shall see. Look, papa not the least corner, or crumb, 
 difference." 
 
 " They are of the same length and breadth, I acknowl- 
 edge," said his father ; " but they are not of the same 
 thickness." 
 
 " Oh, thickness ! I never thought of thickness." 
 
 " But you should think of it," said his father ; " be- 
 cause look here if I were to cut my bit of sugar, which 
 is twice as thick as yours, into two slices, each of those 
 slices would be as long, and as broad, and as thick as 
 your bit is now, and I should have two bits of the same 
 siae as yours twice as much as you." 
 
 -" Ah ! so you would. Thickness does make a great
 
 70 FRANK. 
 
 difference. Then how shall I manage ? for, if I begin 
 to cut the sugar, in your way, in slices look, papa, it 
 all crumbles indeed, the crumbs are the most easily 
 divided. I will crumble it all, and then divide the 
 crumbs among you, and then 1 shall have no difficulty 
 about the thickness." 
 
 So Frank pounded the sugar with a spoon till it was 
 all become a fine powder, and then he divided it into 
 heaps ; but still, people did not agree that his heaps were 
 all of the same size. 
 
 " We can measure them," said Frank ; and he put one 
 of the heaps into a teaspoon; it did not quite fill the 
 spoon another of the heaps filled the spoon higher than 
 the brim another was exactly a spoonful. Frank added 
 to one heap, and took from another. 
 
 " You squeeze the sugar in the spoon, and that will 
 make more go in than there should," said Henry. 
 
 " Indeed, indeed," said Frank, " it cannot be divided 
 more exactly. It is impossible to divide the sugar more 
 exactly than I have done it now ; is not it, mamma 1" 
 
 " I cannot say that it is impossible to divide it more 
 exactly," said his mother, smiling ; " but, as far as I can 
 guess, by looking at your heaps, they seem to be of the 
 same size ; I cannot, however, be sure, merely by look- 
 ing at them, that they contain exactly equal quantities." 
 
 " How then could you be sure 1 I do not feel any 
 difference, mamma. Perhaps I could find out by weigh- 
 ing them in a pair of scales. Papa, will you be so good 
 as to lend me the scales in which you were weighing 
 money, I believe, yesterday?" 
 
 " No, my dear," said his father ; " the saucers of those 
 scales are made of brass ; and you must not put any 
 thing that you are going to eat near brass, because the 
 rust of brass is poisonous. I will lend you another pair 
 of scales, which are made of ivory, and in these you 
 may weigh your sugar. Go for these scales ; they are 
 upon the table that is on the righthand side of the 
 window in my study. As you are used to find your 
 way about the house in the dark, you will readily find 
 what you want." 
 
 Frank found the scales, and weighed his heaps of 
 sugar very carefully. He was surprised to find that 
 there was so much difference in the weight of the heaps, 
 which he thought were exactly of the same size. By 
 patiently adding and taking away, he at last, however,
 
 FRANK* 71 
 
 made them each of the same weight, and everybody 
 was then satisfied with the accuracy of his division. 
 
 " Now, Frank, eat your own share of cake, and drink 
 this dish of tea, which has grown quite cold while you 
 have been dividing and weighing, 1 ' said his mother. 
 And while Frank and his brothers were eating their 
 shares of plumcake, Frank's father said, that if they 
 pleased, he would read a short story to them. 
 
 The boys said they should like to hear a story; and 
 the story that he read was out of Sandford and Merton 
 Cyrus's judgment about two coats. 
 
 ONE day Frank went with his mother to a shop in 
 town : it was a shop where gloves, and ribands, and 
 caps, and hats, were sold. His mother, after she had 
 bought some gloves which she wanted, went into a 
 little room behind the shop to see a poor girl who 
 was ill. 
 
 " Frank," said his mother, " stay in this shop till I 
 come back again." 
 
 Frank stayed in the shop ; and while he was there, a 
 carriage stopped at the door ; and a lady got out of the 
 carriage and came into the shop where Frank was ; 
 she asked to look at some ribands ; and, while the shop- 
 man was looking in some little drawers for ribands, the 
 lady turned to look at Frank, and said, " Does this little 
 boy belong to you 1" meaning the shopkeeper. 
 
 " O no, ma'am ; he belongs to a lady who is just gone 
 into the next room ;" and the shopkeeper mentioned the 
 name of Frank's mother. 
 
 The moment the lady heard this, she smiled at Frank, 
 called him to her, kissed him, and told him he was a 
 charming little creature. She then asked him several 
 questions, and Frank was pleased by her smiling at him 
 and praising him ; and he began to talk to her ; and then 
 she said he was the finest boy she had ever seen in her 
 life, and he liked her still better. 
 
 She was rolling up some riband in a paper, upon 
 which some words were printed; and she asked him 
 whether he could read any of those words : " Oh yes," 
 said Frank ; and he read " Sarsnets, modes, and peel- 
 ings the most fashionable assortment." 
 
 The lady stopped his mouth by kissing him ; and she 
 told him he was a very clever fellow indeed.
 
 72 FRAHK. 
 
 Frank thought he should appear to her still cleverer, 
 if he repeated the pretty verses which he had learned 
 by heart. " what a memory he has ! I never heard 
 any thing so well repeated 1" exclaimed the lady. 
 
 Frank went on to tell her the history of his having 
 cured himself of the trick of buttoning and unbuttoning 
 his coat : and he told her that his father had given him 
 a book : and he repeated, word for word, what his father 
 had written at the beginning of his book. 
 
 To ah 1 this the lady listened with a smiling counte- 
 nance ; and Frank was going on talking about himself, 
 when his mother came out of the room at the back of 
 the shop ; and she called Frank, and took him home 
 with her. 
 
 The next day, his mother, who usually let Frank read 
 to her a little every day, told him that he might bring 
 his book to her and read. He began to read, and he 
 made several mistakes ; and his mother said, " Frank, . 
 you are not minding what you are about this morning." 
 
 Frank read on more carefully ; and when he had read 
 about half a page, without making any mistake, he 
 stopped short, and said to his mother, " But, mamma, 
 you do not praise me as the lady in the shop did." 
 
 " I do not flatter you, my dear," said his mother. 
 
 " What is flattering me, mamma 1" 
 
 " Flattering you, my dear, is praising you more than 
 you deserve to be praised." 
 
 " Did the lady in the shop flatter me, mamma?" 
 
 " I do not know, for I was not by: I did not hear 
 what she said." 
 
 "She said I feel, mamma, I do not know why, 
 ashamed to tell you all she said to me. She said I was 
 a charming little creature, and that I was the finest 
 1x>y she had ever seen in her life ; and she said I was 
 a very clever littk boy indeed, when I read something 
 about sarsnets and modes that was printed on a paper, 
 in which she was rolling up some riband ; and when I 
 repeated the verses to her, mamma, she said she never 
 heard any thing so well repeated in her life." 
 
 " And did you believe all this, Frank V 
 
 " Not quite, mamma I made some mistakes when I 
 was repeating the verses ; and she did not take notice 
 of them." 
 
 " And did you understand what you read about sars- 
 nets and modes ?"
 
 FRANK. 73" 
 
 " mamma, I was sure you would ask that question ! 
 How came it that the lady never asked me that. And 
 there was something about fashionable assortment she 
 kissed me for reading that ; and all the time I did not 
 understand those words. When you kiss me, and praise 
 me, mamma, I feel quite sure that I have done some- 
 thing well, or good; I know what you are pleased with 
 me for; but I did not know exactly why that lady was 
 so much pleased with me ; do you know, mamma?" 
 
 " No, my dear ; and I am not sure that she was much 
 pleased with you." 
 
 " O yes, mamma, I think she really was very much 
 pleased with me, though she was a foolish woman, and 
 did not know why." 
 
 " Did not know why she was a foolish woman>, do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 " No, mamma ; but did not know why she was pleased 
 with me." 
 
 " In that respect," said his mother, laughing, " it 
 seems that you were as foolish as she was." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Frank, " why are not you quite 
 sure that she liked me T" 
 
 "Because, my dear, I have often heard people tell 
 children that they were sweet creatures, and charming 
 dears, and clever fellows ; and I have observed, that 
 these people forget the charming dears as soon as they 
 are out of sight." 
 
 " You and my father never do so ; do you T" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " I had rather that you and papa should praise me, 
 and like me, than the lady I saw in the shop. I think I 
 was very foolish to tell her what my father wrote in 
 my book, because I suppose she did not care about it.^' 
 
 " You will be wiser another time," said his mother. 
 " Now put on your hat, and let us go to look at the bees 
 at work in the glass beehive." 
 
 They went to the old woman's cottage ; and the lit- 
 tle boy opened the garden-gate : and Frank went to the 
 beehive to observe the bees, while his mother sat down 
 in the arbour, and took a book out of her pocket, in 
 which she read for some time. It entertained Frank 
 more to-day to look at the bees than it did the first 
 morning he came to look at them, because he saw more 
 distinctly what they were doing. And when he had 
 attended to the bees as long as he liked, he went to the 
 7 D
 
 74 PRANK. 
 
 arbour where his mother was sitting ; and he asked her 
 whether he might go and talk to the little boy who was 
 now weeding in the garden. 
 
 His mother said that she would rather that he should 
 not talk to this little boy ; but she went to him herself, 
 and thanked him for letting Frank look at his beehive ; 
 and she told him that, if he would come to her house, 
 she would give him a pair of strong shoes. 
 
 Then she took Frank by the hand, and went to the 
 cottage. 
 
 Somebody was talking to the old woman very eagerly 
 about washing a gown. 
 
 The person who was talking was a maidservant ; and 
 she had a muslin gown in her hand, which, she said, her 
 mistress had desired her to take to be washed. 
 
 This old woman was a washerwoman. 
 
 " Look here !" said the maid, showing the bottom of 
 the muslin gown, on which there were the marks of 
 shoes which had trodden upon it, and on which there 
 was a mark of a large hole that had been mended ; 
 " Look here ! what a piece of work 1 have had this 
 morning. Yesterday, my mistress came home with her 
 gown torn and dirtied in this manner : and she told me 
 it was all done by a little mischievous, troublesome, con- 
 ceited brat of a boy, that she met with in the milliner's 
 shop at , where she was yesterday." 
 
 While the maid was saying this, she did not see Frank 
 or his mother; for her back was turned towards the 
 door through which they came. 
 
 " O mamma !" cried Frank, " I remember that was 
 the gown the lady had on who called me a charming 
 little fellow, and who praised, I mean the other word, 
 flattered me so much ; but now she calls me a little mis- 
 chievous, troublesome, conceited brat, only because I 
 trod upon her gown by accident, and tore it. I did not 
 know I had torn it I remember I caught my foot in it 
 when you called me to come away with you. Mamma, 
 if I had torn or dirtied your gown, I do not think you 
 would have been so angry with me. The next time any- 
 body begins to flatter me, and to tell me I am a charming 
 little dear, I shall recollect all this : and I shall not repeat 
 my verses, nor tell them what papa wrote in my book."
 
 FRANK. 75 
 
 . 
 
 FRANK, who had seen the little boy to whom the bee- 
 hive belonged weeding the beds in the garden, said to 
 his mother one morning, " Mamma, I should like to try 
 to weed some of the borders in your garden, as that 
 little boy weeds the beds in his grandmother's garden." 
 
 Frank's mother said that he might weed one of the 
 borders in her garden ; and she lent him a little hoe, and 
 he went to work, and weeded a piece of the border very 
 carefully ; and his mother looked at it when he had 
 done, and said that it was very well done. 
 
 The same day, at dinner, Frank's father gave him a 
 bit of cheese ; and his mother was surprised to see 
 Frank take this cheese off his plate, and. put it between 
 his forefinger and middlefinger; then he took a piece 
 of bread, and stuck it between his middlefinger and his 
 fourth finger, and then he took a large mouthful of the 
 cheese, and a large mouthful of the bread, so that his 
 mouth was filled in a very disagreeable manner. 
 
 " Pray, Frank," said his mother, " what are you about?" 
 
 Frank's mouth was not empty for nearly a minute ; 
 and he could make no answer. 
 
 "Where did you learn this new method of eating 
 bread and cheese ?" 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " 1 saw the little boy in the 
 cottage eating his bread and cheese, after he had done 
 weeding; and he ate it just in this way." 
 
 " And why should you act in that way, because you 
 saw him do so ?" 
 
 " Mamma, I thought you liked that little boy ; I thought 
 he was a very good boy ; do not you remember his 
 bringing me back a bunch of ripe cherries that I drop- 
 ped T You called him an honest little fellow ; and do not 
 you remember that he. has been very good-natured, in 
 telling us all he knew about bees, and in letting me look 
 at his glass beehive ? And yoji know, mamma, this morn- 
 ing you said, when you saw him at work, that he was 
 Tery industrious, did not you V 
 
 " Yes, I did ; I think he is very industrious, and that 
 he was good-natured in letting you look at his glass bee- 
 hive, and honest in returning to you the bunch of ripe 
 cherries which you dropped : but what has all this to 
 do with his method of eating bread and cheese V 
 
 " I do not know, mamma," said Frank, after thinking 
 a little while. " Nothing to do with it. But I thought 
 D2
 
 76 FRANK. 
 
 you would be pleased to see me do every thing like him, 
 because you were pleased this morning when you saw 
 me weeding like him." 
 
 "You may weed like him," said Frank's mother, 
 " without eating like him ; he weeds well, but he eats 
 disagreeably 1 shall be glad to see you as honest, and 
 as good-natured, and as industrious as he is ; but I 
 should be sorry to see you imitate his manner of eating, 
 because that is disagreeable. Sensible people do not 
 imitate every thing which they See others do ; they 
 imitate only what is useful or agreeable." 
 
 Frank took the bread and cheese from between his 
 forefinger and his middlefinger, and between his middle 
 finger and his fourth finger ; and he put the cheese upon 
 his plate, and 3id not any longer imitate the manner in 
 which he had seen the little boy in the cottage cram his 
 mouth. 
 
 " Did you ever hear," said Frank's father, " of the 
 manner in which apes are sometimes caught V 
 
 " No, papa." 
 
 " Apes are apt to imitate every thing which they see 
 done : and they cannot, as you can, Frank, distinguish 
 what is useful and agreeable from what is useless or 
 disagreeable they imitate every thing without reflect- 
 ing. Men, who want to catch these apes, go under the 
 trees in which the apes live ; and the men take with 
 them basins with water in them, in which they wash 
 their own hands. They rub their hands, and wash 
 and wash for some time, till they perceive that the 
 apes are looking at them : then the men go away, and 
 carry with them the basins of water ; and they leave 
 under the trees large heavy wooden basins, filled with 
 pitch you have seen pitch, Frank : you know that it is 
 a very sticky substance. The apes, as soon as the men 
 are out of sight, come down from the trees, and go to 
 the basins to wash their hafids, in imitation of the men. 
 The apes dip their hands into the pitch ; and the pitch 
 sticks to their hairy hands ; and the apes cannot draw 
 their hands out of the pitch. Now these animals usu- 
 ally run upon all fours." 
 
 " All fours, papa !" interrupted Frank, " how is that 1'* 
 
 " As you run upon your hands and feet upon the car- 
 pet sometimes. The apes cannot run well, for want 
 of their hands, and because the wooden bowls, which 
 stick to their hands, are so heavy. The men who left
 
 PRANK. 77 
 
 these bowls come back, and find the apes caught in this 
 manner." 
 
 " I think these apes are very foolish animals," said 
 Frank. 
 
 *' So do I," said his father : " no animals are wise 
 who imitate what they see done, without considering 
 the reason why it is done." 
 
 FRANK asked his mother if she would take him again 
 to the cottage garden, to see the bees at work in the 
 glass beehive ; but his mother answered, " I am afraid 
 to take you there again, till I am sure that you will not 
 imitate the little boy in every thing which you see him 
 do ; for instance " 
 
 " O mamma !" said Frank, " I know what you are 
 going to say but to-day at dinner, you shall see that I 
 will not eat in that disagreeable way." 
 
 His mother attended to him several days ; and when 
 she observed that he did not imitate this boy any more 
 in his manner of eating, she took him again to the cot- 
 tage. 
 
 The old woman was spinning ; and Frank stopped to 
 look at her spinning-wheel ; and he asked his mother 
 what was the use of what the old woman was doing. 
 
 She told him that the woman was twisting a kind of 
 coarse thread, and that her spinning-wheel was a ma- 
 chine which helped her to do this quickly. 
 
 His mother then asked Frank whether he knew 
 where the thread was found, or how it was made. 
 
 " No, mamma,"" said Frank. 
 
 " It is made of a plant called flax, my dear," said his 
 mother " I think you went with me, last summer, 
 through a field in which you saw flax you took notice 
 of its pretty blue flowers."" 
 
 Frank said that he did remember this ; but that he 
 could not imagine how thread, which he saw upon the 
 spinning-wheel, could be made from that green plant 
 with the blue flowers. 
 
 His mother told him that she would show him When- 
 ever she had an opportunity. 
 
 The old woman who was spinning told Frank's 
 mother that a neighbour of hers was this very day 
 hackling some flax, and that if she liked to let Frank
 
 78 FRANK. 
 
 ! ' 
 
 see how it was done, she would show her the way to 
 the house where her neighbour lived. 
 
 " I should like to see what is meant by hackling flax," 
 said Frank. 
 
 "Then come with us, and you shall see," said his 
 mother. 
 
 Frank followed his mother to another cottage, where 
 he saw a woman beating, with the edge of a thin bit of 
 wood, something which he thought looked a little like 
 very yellow dry hay ; but his mother told him that this 
 was flax. 
 
 As the woman beat it, a great deal of dust and dirt 
 fell out of it upon the ground ; and, by degrees, the flax 
 which she held in her hand looked cleaner and cleaner, 
 and finer and finer, till at last it looked like yellow 
 hair.. 
 
 " But, mamma," said Frank, " the flax which I saw 
 last summer, growing in a field near this house, had 
 long green stalks and blue flowers ; and I saw no yellow 
 threads like these is this a different kind of flax ?" 
 
 " No, my dear ; this is the same flax. The blue flow- 
 ers have withered and died. When the blue flowers 
 began to wither, the woman pulled up all the green 
 stalks, and bound them together in bundles, and put 
 these bundles under water, where she left them for 
 about a fortnight ; during this time, the green outside 
 of the stalk decayed, and the stringy part remained ; 
 she then untied the bundles, and spread them out near 
 a fire to dry ; in a few days they were dried, and then 
 she brought the flax home and this," said she, showing 
 Frank a bit of the flax which the woman had not yet 
 beaten and cleaned, " this is the flax as it looks after it 
 has been soaked in water and dried." 
 
 " And what is going to be done to it now, mamma ?" 
 said Frank, who observed that the woman was now 
 placing two small boards before her, on which were 
 stuck, with their points upright, several rows of steel 
 pins ; their points were as sharp as needles. 
 
 " I am going to hackle the flax, master," said the 
 woman: and she began to comb the flax with these 
 steel combs. She drew the flax through the steel pins 
 several times. The board into which the pins were 
 stuck was fastened upon the table ; and, as the woman 
 drew the flax through the pins, it was disentangled, and 
 combed smooth.
 
 FRANK. 79 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " it is just like combing hair 
 out, only the woman does not move the comb, but she 
 draws the hair the flax, I mean, through it." 
 
 The pins in one of the boards were much smaller, 
 and placed closer together, than those in the other 
 board. 
 
 " This is the large comb, and this is the small-toothed 
 comb, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 And when the flax had been drawn through these fine 
 pins, there was not a tangle left in it: and it looked 
 smooth, bright, and shining, and of a light yellow colour. 
 
 Frank's mother showed him that this looked the same 
 as what he had seen on the old woman's spinning-wheel. 
 
 They went back to the spinning-wheel ; and the old 
 woman sat down, and spun a little ; and Frank saw 
 that the threads of the flax were twisted together he 
 did not exactly know how ; and his mother told him 
 that he must not expect to find out how it was done by 
 looking at it for a few minutes. 
 
 Frank said, " Mamma, I feel tired, my eyes are tired 
 of looking, and I am tired with thinking about this 
 spinning-wheel." 
 
 " Then do not think any more about it now : go and 
 run into the garden ;" and Frank ran into the garden ; 
 and he jumped and sang ; then he listened to the birds 
 who were singing ; and he smelt the flowers, partic- 
 ularly rosemary and balm, which he had never smelt 
 before ; and he heard the humming of bees near him, as 
 he was smelling to the rosemary ; and he recollected 
 that he had not looked at the bees this day ; so he ran 
 to the glass beehive, and watched them working. 
 
 And afterward he ran back to his mother, and said, " I 
 am quite rested now, mamma I mean, I do not feel 
 tired of thinking about the spinning-wheel. May I look 
 at the woman spinning again T" 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 Frank went into the cottage, and looked at the old 
 woman who was spinning. 
 
 " Would you like to try to ^)in a bit, dear 1" said the 
 old woman. 
 
 " Yes, I should," said Frank ; " it looks as if it was 
 very easy to do it, but perhaps it is not ; for I remem- 
 ber I could not plane with the carpenter's plane, though 
 it seemed very easy when he was doing it." 
 
 Frank tried to spin, but he broke the thread almost at
 
 80 FRANK. 
 
 the first trial; however, the old woman clapped her 
 hands, and said, " That's a pretty dear ! He spins as 
 well as I do, I declare !" 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no," said Frank ; " I know I cannot spin 
 at all ;" and he looked ashamed, and left the spinning- 
 wheel, and turned away from the old woman, and went 
 back to his mother. 
 
 She walked home with him ; and as they were walk- 
 ing home, his mother said to him, " Do you know why 
 you came back just now, Frank !" 
 
 " Yes, mamma, because the woman called me a pretty 
 dear, and told me that I could spin as well as she could; 
 and you know I could not ; so that was flattering me ; 
 and I do not like people that flatter me. I remember 
 the lady in the shop who flattered me, and afterward 
 called me a mischievous brat. But I do not much like 
 to think of that. Mamma, of what use is that brown 
 thread which the old woman made of the flax?" 
 
 " Of that brown thread linen is made, my dear." 
 
 " But linen is white, mamma : how is the brown thread 
 made white ?" 
 
 " It is left in a place where the sun shines upon it ; 
 and there are other ways of making linen white, which 
 I cannot now explain to you. Making linen white is 
 called bleaching it." 
 
 " Can you explain to me, mamma, how thread is made 
 into linen ?" 
 
 " No, my dear, I cannot ; but perhaps your father, 
 when you are able to understand it, may show you how 
 people weave linen in a loom." 
 
 ONE night, when Frank's brother Henry was with 
 him, they were talking of Henry's garden. 
 
 Henry said, " Next spring I intend to sow some scar- 
 let runners, or French beans, in my garden." 
 
 " Whereabouts in your garden ?" said Frank. 
 
 Henry tried to describe to him whereabouts : but 
 Frank could not understand him ; so Henry took his 
 pencil out of his pocket, and said, " Now, Frank, I will 
 draw for you a map of my garden ; and then you will 
 understand it." 
 
 He drew the shape of his garden upon paper ; and he 
 marked where all the little walks went, and where the
 
 FRANK. 81 
 
 rosebud stood, and where the sally-fence was ; and he 
 drew all the borders, and printed upon each of the bor- 
 ders the name of what was planted there when Frank 
 last saw it. 
 
 Frank, after he had looked at this drawing for a little 
 while, understood it, and saw the exact spot in which 
 Henry intended to sow his scarlet runners. 
 
 " So this is what you called afnap," said Frank ; " but 
 it is not like the maps in papa's study." 
 
 " They are maps of counties, not of little gardens," 
 said Henry. 
 
 " I suppose they are of the same use to other people 
 that the little map of your garden was to me to show 
 them whereabouts places are. But, Henry, what are 
 those odd-shaped, crooked bits of wood, which hook 
 into one another, and which I thought you called a 
 map?" 
 
 " That is a map pasted upon wood : and the shapes 
 of the different places are cut out through the paper, 
 and through the wood ; and then they can be joined to- 
 gether again exactly in the same shape that they were 
 in at first." 
 
 " I do not understand how you mean," said Frank. 
 
 Henry cut out the different beds and walks in the 
 little map which he had drawn of his garden ; and when 
 he had separated the parts, he threw them down upon 
 the table before Frank, and asked him to try if he could 
 put them together again as they were before. 
 
 After some trials, Frank did join them all together ; 
 and he told Henry that he should very much like to try 
 to put his wooden map together, and that he would be 
 very much obliged to him if he would lend it to him. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Henry, " to lend you that map, 
 lest you should lose any of the parts of it." 
 
 " I will not lose them, I assure you." 
 
 " I tried every day for a week," said Henry, " before 
 I was able to put it all together ; and after I had done with 
 it every day, I put it into the box belonging to it ; and I 
 regularly counted all the bits, to see that I had them 
 right." 
 
 " I will count them every day before I put them by if 
 you will lend them to me," said Frank. 
 
 " If you will promise me to do so," said Henry, " I 
 will lend you my map for a week." 
 
 Frank was eagerly going to say, " Yes, I will promise 
 D3
 
 82 PRANK. 
 
 you," when he felt a hand before his lips. It was his 
 mother's. " My dear Frank," said she, in a serious 
 tone of voice, " consider before you ever make any 
 promise. No persons are believed or trusted who break 
 their promise. You are very young, Frank ; and you 
 scarcely know what a promise means." 
 
 " I think I know, mamma, what this promise means," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " And do you think you shall be able to keep yom 
 promise *" 
 
 " Yes, mamma," said Frank ;." I hope that I shall." 
 
 " I hope so too, my dear," said his mother ; " for I 
 would rather that you should never put that map to- 
 gether, than that you should make a promise and 
 break it." 
 
 Frank promised Henry, that whenever he took the 
 map out of the box, he would count the pieces, to see 
 whether he had the right number, before he put them 
 again into the box. 
 
 " Remember," said Frank, " I do not promise that I 
 will not lose any pieces of the map I promise only to 
 count them ; but 1 hope I shall not lose any of them." 
 
 Henry told him that he understood very well what he 
 said : and he put the box into his hands. 
 
 Frank immediately counted the pieces of the map. 
 It was a map of England and Wales ; and there were 
 fifty-two pieces ; one to represent each county. 
 
 " Fifty-two fifty-two fifty-two," repeated Frank, 
 several times ; " I am afraid I shall forget how many 
 there are." 
 
 " Then," said Henry, " you had better write it down. 
 Here is a pencil for you, and you may write it upon the 
 lid of the box." 
 
 Frank wrote a two and a five after it. 
 
 " That is not right," said Henry ; " that is twenty- 
 five ; and you know that there are fifty-two." 
 
 " Then," said Frank, " I must put the five to my left 
 hand and the two to my right hand to make fifty-two. 
 Mamma, I did not understand what papa told me once 
 about the places of units, and tens, and hundreds." 
 
 " Then you had better ask him to explain it to you 
 again when he is at leisure : for want of knowing this* 
 when you were to write fifty-two, you wrote twenty- 
 five." 
 
 " That was a great mistake : but papa is busy now,
 
 FRANK. 83 
 
 and cannot explain about units and tens to me ; there- 
 fore, I will put the map together if I can." 
 
 Frank could not put the map together the first night 
 that he tried, nor the second day, nor the third : but he 
 regularly remembered to count the bits, according to 
 his promise, every day, before he put them into the 
 box. 
 
 One day he was in a great hurry to go out to fly his 
 kite ; but all the pieces of the map were scattered upon 
 the carpet ; and he stayed to count them and put them 
 into the box before he went out. 
 
 It was not easy to get them into the box, which was 
 but just large enough to hold them when they were 
 well packed. 
 
 The lid of the box would not slide into its place 
 when the pieces of the map were not put in so as to lie 
 quite flat. 
 
 One day it was Friday Frank saw his father open 
 a large book, in which there were very pretty prints of 
 houses ; and he was eager to go to look at these prints ; 
 but his map was upon the table ; and he thought he had 
 better count the pieces and put them into the box be- 
 fore he went to look at the prints, lest he should forget 
 to do it afterward : therefore, he counted them as fast 
 as he could. They were not all right. Fifty-two was 
 the number that had been lent to him, and he could find 
 but fifty-one. ;- ;, 
 
 He searched all over the room under the tables 
 under the chairs upon the sofa under the cushions of 
 the sofa under the carpet everywhere he could think 
 of. The lost bit of the map was nowhere to be found ; 
 and, while he was searching, his father turned over all 
 the leaves in the book of prints, found the print that he 
 wanted, then shut the book, and put it into its place in 
 the bookcase. 
 
 Frank was at this instant crawling from beneath the 
 sofa, where he had been feeling for his lost county. 
 He looked up and sighed when he saw the book of 
 pretty prints shut and put up into the bookcase. 
 
 " O papa ! there is the very thing I have been looking 
 for all this time," cried Frank, who now espied the bit 
 of the map which he had missed : it was lying upon the 
 table, and the book of prints had been put upon it, so 
 that Frank never could see it till the book was lifted up. 
 " I am glad 1 have found you, little crooked county
 
 84 PRANK. 
 
 of Middlesex," said Frank. "Now I have them all 
 right fifty-two." ' 
 
 The next morning Saturday the last day of the 
 week during which the map was lent to Frank, he spent 
 an hour and a half* in trying to put it together : aflast 
 he succeeded, and hooked every county, even crooked 
 little Middlesex, into its right place. 
 
 He was much pleased to see the whole map fitted to- 
 gether. " Look at it, dear mamma," said he : " you can- 
 not see the joinings, it fits so nicely." 
 
 His mother was just come to look at his map, when 
 they heard a noise of several sheep baaing very loud 
 near the Avindows. Frank ran to the window, and he 
 saw a large flock of sheep passing near the window ; a 
 man and two women were driving them. 
 
 "How fat they look, mamma!" said Frank; "they 
 seem as if they could hardly walk, they are so fat." 
 " They have a great deal of wool upon their backs." 
 " Mamma, what can be the use of those large, very 
 large scissors, which that woman carries in her hand 1" 
 " Those large scissors are called shears ; and with 
 them the wool will be cut from the backs of these 
 sheep." 
 
 " Will it hurt the sheep, mamma, to cut their wool 
 off?" 
 
 " Not at all, I believe." 
 
 " I should like, then, to see it done ; and I should 
 like to touch the wool. What use is made of wool, 
 mamma?" 
 
 " Your coat is made of wool, my dear." 
 Frank looked surprised ; and he was going to ask how 
 wool could be made into a coat ; but his father came 
 into the room, and asked him if he should like to go 
 with him to see some sheep sheared. 
 
 "Yes, very much, papa; thank you," said Frank, 
 jumping down from the chair on which he stood. 
 
 " I shall be ready to go in five minutes," said his 
 father. 
 
 " I am ready this minute," said Frank ; " I have noth- 
 ing to do but to get my hat, and to put on my shoes." 
 But just as he got to the door, he recollected that he 
 had left Henry's map upon the floor ; and he returned 
 
 * A boy of four years old spent, voluntarily, above an hour and a 
 half in attempts to put together a joining map.
 
 FRANK. 85 
 
 back, and was going hastily to put it into the box ; but 
 he then recollected his promise to count the pieces every 
 day before he put them into the box. He was much 
 afraid that his father should be ready before he had 
 finished counting them, and that he should be left be- 
 hind, and should not see the sheep sheared ; but he kept 
 his promise exactly : he counted the fifty-two pieces, 
 put them into the box, and was ready the instant his 
 father called him. 
 
 He saw the wool cut off the back of the sheep ; it did 
 not entertain him quite so much as he had expected, to 
 see this done ; but when he returned home, he was very 
 glad to meet his brother Henry in the evening ; and he 
 returned the box of maps to him. 
 " Thank you, Henry," said he ; " here is your map, 
 safe. Count the pieces, and you will find that there are 
 fifty-two. And I have kept my promise ; I have counted 
 them every day before I put them into the box. My 
 mother saw me count them every day." 
 
 " I am glad, Frank, that you have kept your promise," 
 said Henry, and his mother, and his father, all at once ; 
 and they all looked pleased with him. 
 
 His father took down the book of pretty prints, and 
 put it into Frank's hands. 
 
 " I will lend you this book for a week," said his 
 father ; " you may look at all the prints in it ; I can 
 trust you with it ; for I saw that you took care of 
 Henry's map which was lent to you." 
 
 Frank opened the book, and he saw upon the first 
 page the print of the front of a house. 
 
 " The reason I wished to look at this book so much," 
 said Frank, " was, because I thought I saw prints of 
 houses in it, and I am going to build a house in my 
 garden." 
 
 " You have kept your promise so well," said Henry, 
 " about the map, that I will lend you what I would not 
 lend to anybody -that I could not trust I will lend you 
 my box full of little bricks, if you will not take them 
 out of doors, nor wet them." 
 
 Frank said that he would not either take them out 
 of doors or wet them. 
 
 And Henry believed that Frank would do what he 
 said that he would do, because he had kept his promise 
 exactly with respect to the map. 
 
 Frank received the box full of little bricks with a joy-
 
 86 PRANK. 
 
 ful countenance, and his mother gave him leave to build 
 with them in the room in which he slept. 
 
 Henry showed him how to break the joints in building 
 how to build walls and arches. And Frank was hap- 
 py in building different sorts of buildings, and staircases, 
 and pillars, and towers, and arches, with the little bricks 
 which were lent to him. And he kept his promise not 
 to wet them, and not to take them out of doors. 
 
 " It is a good thing to keep one's promise," said his 
 mother : " people are trusted who keep their promises 
 trusted even with little bricks."* 
 
 IT was autumn the leaves withered and fell from the 
 trees ; and the paths in the grove were strewed with 
 the red leaves of the beech-trees. 
 
 Little Frank swept away the leaves in his mother's 
 favourite walk in the grove ; it was his morning's work 
 to make this walk quite clean ; and, as soon as dinner 
 was over, he slid down from his chair ; and he went to 
 his mother, and asked her if she would walk out this 
 evening in the grove. 
 
 " I think," said his mother, " it is now too late in the 
 year to walk after dinner : the evenings are cold ; and " 
 
 " O mamma," interrupted Frank, " pray walk out this 
 one evening look, the sun has not set yet ; look at the 
 pretty red sunshine upon the tops of the trees several 
 of the trees in the grove have leaA'es upon them still, 
 mamma, and I have swept away all the withered leaves 
 that were strewed upon your path will you come and 
 look at it, mamma?" 
 
 " Since you have swept my path, and have taken 
 pains to oblige me," said his mother, " I will walk with 
 you, Frank. People should not always do just what they 
 like best themselves : they should be sometimes ready 
 
 * These little bricks were made of plaster of Paris : they were ex- 
 actly twice as long as they were broad, and twice as broad as they 
 were thick. Two inches and a quarter long is a convenient length, 
 being one quarter of the length of a common brick. Common bricks 
 are not exactly in the proportion above mentioned, as there is gener- 
 ally allowance made for mortar. A few lintels of wood, the depth 
 and breadth of a brick, and twelve inches and three quarters long, 
 will be found very convenient : these should be painted exactly to 
 match the colour of the bricks. 
 
 ,
 
 PRANK. 87 
 
 to comply with the wishes of their friends : so, Frank, 
 I will comply with your wish, and walk to the grove." 
 
 His mother found it a more pleasant evening than she 
 had expected ; and the walk in the grove was shelter- 
 ed ; and she thanked Frank for having swept it. 
 
 The wind had blown a few leaves from one of the 
 heaps which he had made ; and he ran on before his 
 mother to clear them away but, as he stooped to brush 
 away one of the leaves, he saw a caterpillar, which 
 was so nearly the colour of the faded green leaf upon 
 which it lay, that he at first sight mistook it for a part 
 of the leaf it stuck to the leaf, and did not move in the 
 least, even when Frank touched it. He carried it to his 
 mother, and asked her if she thought that it was dead, 
 or if she knew what was the matter with it. 
 
 " I believe, my dear," said his mother, " that this 
 caterpillar will soon turn into a chrysalis." 
 
 " Chry what, mamma ?" 
 
 " Chrysalis." 
 
 " What is a chrysalis 1" 
 
 "I cannot describe it to you; but if you keep this 
 caterpillar a few days, you will see what I mean by a 
 chrysalis V 
 
 " I will but how do you know, mamma, that a cater- 
 pillar will turn into a chrysalis V 
 
 " I have seen caterpillars that have turned into chrys- 
 alises; and I have heard that they do so from many 
 other people who have seen it ; and I have read in 
 books accounts of caterpillars that have turned into 
 chrysalises ; and this is the time of the year in which, 
 as it has been observed, this change usually happens." 
 
 " But, my dear mother," said Frank, " may I keep 
 this caterpillar in my red box ? And what shall I give 
 it to eat V 
 
 "You need not give it any thing to eat ; for it will not 
 eat while it is in this state : and you may keep this 
 caterpillar in your box ; it will soon become a chrysalis ; 
 and, in the spring, a moth or butterfly will come out of 
 the chrysalis." 
 
 Frank looked much surprised at hearing this ; and he 
 said that he would take great care of the caterpillar, 
 and that he would watch it, that he might see all these 
 curious changes. 
 
 " Who was the first person, mamma, that ever ob-
 
 88 FRANK. 
 
 served that a caterpillar turned into a chrysalis, and a 
 chrysalis into a butterfly 1" 
 
 " J don't know, my dear." 
 
 " Mamma, perhaps, if I observe, I may find out things 
 as well as other people." 
 
 " Yes, very likely you may." 
 
 " Mamma, how did the person who wrote about ani- 
 mals, in my book that my father gave me, find out all 
 that he knew ?" 
 
 " Partly from reading other books, and partly from 
 observing animals himself." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Frank, " how did the people 
 who wrote the other books know all the things that are 
 told in them I" 
 
 " By observing," said his mother " different people, 
 in different places, observed different animals, and 
 wrote the histories of those animals." 
 
 " I am very glad that they did. Did they ever make 
 mistakes, mamma?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe that they did make a great many 
 mistakes." 
 
 " Then every thing that is in books is not true, is it 1" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I am sorry for that but how shall I know what is 
 true and what is not true in books, mamma ?" 
 
 " You cannot always find out what is true and what 
 is not true in books, till you have more knowledge, my 
 dear." 
 
 "And how shall I get more knowledge, mamma?" 
 
 " By observing whatever you see, and hear, and feel ; 
 by reading ; and by trying experiments." 
 
 " Experiments, mamma ! Papa and grown-up wise 
 people try experiments ; but I did not know that such a 
 little boy as 1 am could try experiments." 
 
 Frank and his mother had walked on, while they 
 were talking, till they came to a path which led to the 
 river side. 
 
 A little girl was by the river side, dipping a yellow 
 earthen jug into the water. 
 
 The girl did not perceive Frank and his mother, who 
 were coming behind her, till she heard Frank's voice, 
 which startled her ; and she let the pitcher fall from her 
 hand, and it broke. 
 
 The girl looked very sorry that she had broken the 
 jug ; but a woman who was standing beside her said,
 
 FRANK. 89 
 
 " It is no great misfortune, Mary ; for we can take it 
 home, and tie it together, and boil it in milk, and it will 
 be as good as ever." 
 
 " My dear mother," cried Frank, " then we can mend 
 the broken flower-pot shall we do it as soon as we get 
 home ?" 
 
 " We can try to do it as soon as we go home." 
 " Try, mamma ! but are you not sure it will do 1 The 
 woman said the jug would be as good as ever, if it was 
 tied together, and boiled in milk." 
 
 " Yes ; but she may be mistaken we had better try 
 the experiment ourselves." 
 
 " Is that called trying an experiment V 
 " Yes, this is an experiment we can try." 
 When they got home, Frank's mother rang the bell, 
 and asked to have a clean saucepan and some milk up 
 stairs ; and when the saucepan was brought to her, 
 she tied the pieces of the broken flower-pot together 
 with packthread, in the same shape that it was be- 
 fore it was broken she put the flower-pot into the 
 saucepan, and she poured over it as much milk as en- 
 tirely covered it ; and after she had put the saucepan on 
 the fire, she waited till the milk boiled ; then she took 
 the saucepan off the fire, and she waited till the milk 
 grew so cool that she could dip her fingers into it with- 
 out burning herself; and she took out the flower-pot, 
 and carefully untied the wet packthread, and unwound 
 it; but, when she had unwound it, the parts of the 
 flower-pot did not stick together : they separated ; and 
 Frank was disappointed. 
 
 " But, mamma," said he, " I wish you would be so 
 good as to send to the woman, and ask her how it was 
 that she could mend broken things by boiling them in 
 milk; perhaps she knows something about it that we 
 do not know yet." 
 
 " Stay," said Henry : " before you send to the woman, 
 try another experiment. Here's a saucer which 1 broke 
 just before you came in from walking I was rubbing 
 some Indian ink upon it, and I let it slip off the table 
 let us tie this together, and try whether you can mend 
 it by boiling it in the milk." - 1 . 
 
 The saucer was tied together ; the milk that was in 
 the saucepan was poured out, and some cold milk was 
 put into it : into this milk the saucer was put, and the 
 milk was then boiled ; and the moment the saucepan
 
 90 FRANK. 
 
 was taken off the fire, Frank was impatient to see the 
 saucer. Before it was nearly cool, he untied the string ; 
 the parts of the saucer did not stick together ; and Frank 
 was more disappointed now than he had been before. 
 
 His mother smiled, and said, " Frank, people who 
 wish to try experiments, you see, must be patient." 
 
 The woman whom he had heard speaking to the little 
 girl by the river side lived very near to them; and 
 Frank's mother sent to beg to speak to her. She came ; 
 and when she was told what had been done about the 
 flower-pot and the saucer, she asked whether it was a 
 long time since the flower-pot had been broken. 
 
 " Yes, about two months." 
 
 " Then, ma'am," said she, " that could not be mended 
 this way. I can only mend things this way that have 
 been fresh broken." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " how comes it that the sau- 
 cer which Henry did but just break before we came in 
 from walking did not stick together, after all we did 
 to itl" 
 
 " Perhaps, master," said the woman, " you did not 
 let it stand to cool before you untied it." 
 
 " No, I did not," said Frank. 
 
 " But, master, you must have patience, and wait till 
 it is quite cool, or it will never do." 
 
 " I will be more patient this time, mamma, if you will 
 let me try once more." 
 
 His mother let him try once more ; and Frank was 
 going to boil the milk again, but the old woman said 
 that the milk which had been boiled would not do, and 
 that he must use new milk. 
 
 And Frank said, " This will waste a great deal of 
 milk." 
 
 But the old woman said, " I never waste the milk , 
 for I give it to the children afterward, or to the chick- 
 ens, and I do not throw it away." 
 
 Frank now began to tie the broken saucer together, 
 and the old woman said to him, " Fit it very close and 
 even, and tie it very tight, or it will not do." 
 
 " I have tied it as tight as I can," said Frank. 
 
 " But, master, it is not near tight enough," said the 
 woman : " I will show you how to tighten it better, if 
 you will give me a small wooden skewer, or a bit of 
 wood that 1 can cut into a skewer, about the size of your 
 pencil."
 
 FRANK. 91 
 
 " Here is such a bit of wood as you want," said 
 Frank's mother. 
 
 " Now, master," said the old woman, " take another 
 piece of packthread, and wind it three times round the 
 saucer, and tie the ends together. Leave it quite loose, 
 so that you may put your finger between the saucer and 
 the packthread. Very well. Now, master, put this 
 stick between the packthread and the saucer, and twist 
 the packthread tight with the stick." 
 
 " The packthread looks like a screw as I twist it," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " Yes," said his mother, " and you see that you really 
 screw the parts of the saucer together." 
 
 " Yes," said Frank, " and this is as tight and as strong 
 as the stick and string in my skipjack, and it is some- 
 thing like it : is it not, mamma t" 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 " 1 will run for my skipjack, and see whether it is 
 quite the same," said Frank. 
 
 " You had better finish what you are about first," said 
 his mother; "you can look at the skipjack afterward. 
 Do one thing at a time, my dear." 
 
 Frank boiled the new milk, and put the well-tied sau- 
 cer into it, and this time he waited till the saucer was 
 cool, and then he untied the string ; and he found that 
 the parts of the saucer stuck fast together ; and he could 
 scarcely see the place where they were joined. 
 
 He was pleased with his success, and he said, " Peo- 
 ple must be patient who try experiments ; and people 
 must be patient who are to observe things ; so I will 
 have patience till next spring, and then I shall see the 
 chrysalis change to a moth or a butterfly. But, mother, 
 first I shall see the caterpillar change to a chrysalis." 
 
 Frank put his green caterpillar into his red box ; and 
 then he went again to look at the saucer which had been 
 mended, and at the flower-pot which the old woman said 
 could not be mended ; and he asked his mother if she 
 could tell the reason why things which had been broken 
 a long time before could not be mended by being boiled 
 in this manner in milk. 
 
 "I think I can guess the reason," said his mother; 
 " but I will not tell it to you ; I would rather that you 
 should think and find it out for yourself. If I were to 
 tell you the reason of every thing, my dear, you would
 
 92 FRANK. 
 
 ^-- ' . J* 
 
 never take the trouble of thinking for yourself; and 
 you know I shall not always be with you to think for 
 you." 
 
 "MAMMA," said Fran*, "there is a reason that I 
 have thought of; but I am not sure that it is the right 
 reason but it may be one of the reasons." 
 ** Well, let us hear it, without any more reasons," said 
 his mother, laughing. 
 
 " I thought, mamma," said Frank, " that perhaps the 
 old woman could never mend things " 
 
 " Things! what sort of things; chairs and tables, or 
 coats and waistcoats ?" 
 ." mamma, you know very well what I mean." 
 
 " Yes, I guess what you mean ; but other people will 
 not be at the trouble of guessing at the meaning of what 
 you say : therefore, if you wish to be understood, you 
 must learn to explain yourself distinctly." 
 
 " I thought, mamma," said Frank, ' that the reason 
 why the old woman could never mend cups and saucers, 
 or jugs, or plates, that had been broken a great while, 
 was, because, perhaps, the edges of these might have 
 been rubbed or broken off, so that they could not be 
 fitted close together again. If you recollect, the old 
 woman was saying to me when I was tying the broken 
 saucer together, ' Tie it tight and fit it close, or it will 
 not do.' Do you think that I have found out the right 
 reason, mamma ? Is it the reason which you thought 
 of?" 
 
 " It is the reason," answered his mother, " which I 
 thought of: but my haying thought of it is no proof that 
 it is right. The best way to find out whether this is 
 the case is to try. Can you find out yourself, Frank, 
 how you may prove whether this is the reason or not ?" 
 
 " I would rub the edges of a plate or saucer after it was 
 broken ; and when I had rubbed off little bits of the 
 edges, I would tie the edges together and boil them in 
 milk ; and I would at the same time break another bit 
 off the same plate or saucer; and I would tie the broken 
 pieces together without rubbing off any of the edges, 
 and I would put it into the same milk, and let it be 
 upon the fire as long, and let it be as long before I un- 
 tied it as before I untied the other broken pieces : and
 
 FRANK. 93 
 
 then we should see whether the rubbing off the edges 
 would prevent the pieces from joining or not." 
 
 Frank's mother told him that he might try his experi- 
 ment. He tried it ; and he found that the broken bits 
 of the plate, whose edges he had broken off, could not 
 be joined by being boiled in miKt ; and two other broken 
 bits of the same pi-ate, which he joined without rubbing 
 off their edges, stuck together, after they had been boiled 
 in milk, very well. 
 
 Then Frank said, " Mamma, there is another thing 
 which I should like to try ; I should like to tie the broken 
 flower-pot very tight together, and to fit the pieces 
 closely ; for the last time I tied it 1 did not tie it very 
 tight ; I did not know that I should have done that, till 
 the old woman told me that 1 should. I think perhaps 
 the flower-pot may be mended, because, though it has 
 been broken a great while, the edges of it have never 
 been rubbed, I believe ; it has been lying in the press in 
 your room ; and nobody has ever meddled with it." 
 
 " Nobody has ever meddled with it, I believe," said 
 his mother ; " for I lock that press every day, and no 
 one goes to it but myself; and I have never rubbed any 
 thing against the edges of the broken flower-pot." 
 
 She went and brought the pieces of the broken flow- 
 er-pot : and Frank tied them together very tight, after he 
 had fitted their edges closely and evenly together. He 
 boiled this flower-pot again in milk, waited afterward 
 till it became cool, and then untied it, and he found that 
 the parts stuck together ; and he poured water into it, 
 and the water did not run out. Frank was glad that he 
 had mended the flower-pot at last. 
 
 " Do you think, mother," said he, " that it was made 
 to stick together again by being tied so tight, or by the 
 milk, or by both together!" 
 
 " I do not know," answered his mother ; " but you 
 may try whether tying broken pieces of earthenware 
 together will fasten them, without boiling them in milk." 
 
 Frank tried this ; and he let the pieces that were tied 
 together remain still as long as those which he had be- 
 fore boiled in milk ; and when he untied the string, the 
 pieces separated ; they did not stick together in the 
 least. He afterward tied these pieces together again, 
 and boiled them in water ; and he found, when he untied 
 them, that they did not stick together.
 
 94 FRANK. 
 
 . 
 
 THERE was one part of the winter's evening which 
 Frank liked particularly ; it was the half hour after din- 
 ner, when the window-shutters were shut, and the cur- 
 taiiis let down, and the fire stirred, so as to make a 
 cheerful blaze, which lighted the whole room. 
 
 His father and mother did not ring the bell for can- 
 dles, because they liked to sit a little while after dinner 
 by the light of the fire. 
 
 Frank's father used often, at this time, to play with 
 him, or to talk to him. 
 
 One evening, after his father had been playing with 
 Frank, and had made him jump, and run, and wrestle, 
 and laugh, till Frank was quite hot and out of breath, 
 he knelt down upon the carpet at his father's feet, 
 rested his arms upon his father's knees, and looking up 
 in his face, he said, " Now, papa, while I am resting 
 myself so happily here, will you tell me something en- 
 tertaining?" 
 
 But just as Frank said the word entertaining, the door 
 opened, and the servant came into the room with lighted 
 candles. 
 <>" O candles ! I am sorry you are come !" cried Frank. 
 
 " O candles ! I am glad you have come," said his 
 father, " for now I can see to read an entertaining book, 
 which I want to finish." 
 
 " But, papa," said Frank, " cannot you sit still a little, 
 little while longer, and tell me some short thing ?" 
 
 " Well, what shall I tell you 1" 
 
 " There are so many things that I want to know, papa, 
 I do not know which to ask for first I want to know 
 whether you have ever seen a camel and 1 want to 
 know where silkworms are found, and how they make 
 silk and I want to know how people weave linen in a 
 loom, and how the wool of sheep is made into such 
 coats as we have on. And, oh, father! I wish very 
 much to know how the fat of animals is made into can- 
 dles you promised to tell me or to show me how that 
 was done. And, oh, more than all the rest, I wish to 
 know how plates, and jugs, and cups and saucers, and 
 flower-pots, are made of clay and whether they are 
 made of clay such as I have in my garden. And I want 
 very much to know where tea comes from and " 
 
 " Stop, stop ! my dear Frank," said his father ; " it 
 would take up a great deal more of my time than I can
 
 FRANK. 95 
 
 bestow upon you to answer all these questions I can- 
 not answer any of them to-night, for I have a great 
 many other things to do. The first thing you asked 
 me, I think, was whether I had ever seen a camel I 
 have ; and the print I am going to show you is very like 
 the animal that I saw ; and you may read his history, 
 and then you will know all that I know of camels ; and, 
 when you have satisfied your curiosity about camels I 
 can lend you another book, in which you may read the 
 history of silkworms." 
 
 " Thank you, papa," said Frank : " I shall like to read 
 these things very much ; only I cannot read quick yet, 
 papa; and there are words, sometimes, which I cannot 
 make out well." 
 
 " If you persevere," said his father, "you will soon be 
 able to read without any difficulty but nothing can be 
 done well without perseverance. You have shown me 
 that you have a great deal of perseverance, and " 
 
 "Have I, papa?" interrupted Frank; "when did I 
 show that to you ]" 
 
 " The morning when you tried, for an hour and a half, 
 to put the joining map together." 
 
 "And at last I did put it together." 
 
 " Yes ; you succeeded because you persevered." 
 
 " Then," said Frank, " I will persevere, and learn to 
 read easily, that I may read all the entertaining things 
 that are in books ; and then I shall be as glad when the 
 candle comes as you were just now, papa."
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO 
 
 MY LITTLE BROTHER, 
 
 FRANCIS BEAUFORT EDGEWORTH. 
 
 SIXTEEN years ago I dedicated a volume of Early Les- 
 sons " To 'my little brother William." He has grown 
 up to be a man. I now dedicate this Continuation of 
 Early Lessons to you, my dear little brother Francis. 
 You are now four years old ; just the age your brother 
 was when Frank was written for him and read to him. 
 He could not then read, and you cannot now read. But 
 the time will come when you will be able to read ; and 
 then I hope you will receive pleasure from what I am 
 at this instant writing : and I am sure that you will feel 
 pleasure in reading Harry and Lucy, because, in this 
 book, you will recollect all those little experiments 
 which your father tried for you, and which you then un- 
 derstood. And you will, I think, be glad to find that you 
 are able to comprehend the account which he has writ- 
 ten of them. 
 
 I hope, my dear little brother, that when you grow up, 
 
 you will be such a man as your brother William now 
 
 is ; and then you will give your father and mother as 
 
 much pleasure as that brother William now gives them. 
 
 MARIA EDGEWORTH. 
 
 December 8, 1813.
 
 FRANK. 
 
 FRANK was very fond of playing at battledoor and 
 shuttlecock; but he could not always play when he 
 liked, or as long as he liked it, because he had no bat- 
 tledoor or shuttlecock of his own. He determined to 
 try to make a shuttlecock for himself; but he had no 
 cork for the bottom of it, and he had only five feathers, 
 which had once belonged to an old worn-out shuttle- 
 cock. They were ruffled and bent. His mother was 
 very busy, so that he did not like to interrupt her to ask 
 for more feathers ; and his father was out riding, so that 
 Frank could not ask him for a cork. His brother Ed- 
 ward advised him to put off trying to make his shuttle- 
 cock till his mother was not busy, and till his father 
 should return from riding ; but Frank was so impatient 
 that he would not take this prudent advice. He set to 
 work immediately to make the bottom of his shuttle- 
 cock of one end of the handle of his pricker, which he 
 sawed off, because he thought that it resembled the bot- 
 tom of a shuttlecock in shape more than any other bit 
 of wood which he possessed. When he tried to make 
 holes in it for the feathers, he found that the wood was 
 extremely hard ; he tried and tried in vain ; and, at last, 
 snap went the end of the pricker. It broke in two ; and 
 Frank was so sorry that he began to cry ; but, recol- 
 lecting that his tears would not mend his pricker, he 
 dried his eyes, and resolved to bear the loss of it like 
 a man. He examined the stump of the pricker which he 
 held in his hand, and he found that there was enough of 
 the steel left to be sharpened again. He began to file it 
 as well as he could ; and, after taking some pains, he 
 sharpened it : but he did not attempt to make any more 
 holes in the hard wood, lest he should break the pricker 
 again. He said to himself "Edward gave me good 
 advice, and I will now take it ; I will wait till my father 
 comes home, and till my mother is not busy ; and then 
 I will ask them for what I want." 
 
 The next day his father gave him a cork, and his 
 9 E
 
 98 PRANK. 
 
 mother gave him some feathers ; and, after several tri- 
 als, he at last made a shuttlecock which flew tolerably 
 well. He was eager to try it, and he ran to his brother 
 Edward and showed it to him ; and Edward liked the 
 shuttlecock, but could not then play, because he was 
 learning his Latin lesson. 
 
 " Well ! I will have patience till to-morrow, if I can," 
 said Frank. 
 
 It happened this same evening that Frank was pres- 
 ent when his brother Edward and three of his cousins 
 were dressing to act a pantomime. They were in a 
 great hurry. They had lost the burnt cork with which 
 they were to blacken their eyebrows. They looked 
 everywhere that they could think of for it, but all in vain ; 
 and a messenger came to tell them that everybody was 
 seated, and that they must begin to act the pantomime 
 directly. They looked with still more eagerness for 
 this cork, but it could not be found ; and they did not 
 know where to get another. 
 
 " I have one ! I have one ! I have a cork ! you shall 
 have it in a minute !" cried the good-natured little Frank. 
 He ran up stairs directly, pulled all the feathers out of 
 his dear shuttlecock, burnt the end of the cork in the 
 candle, and gave it to his friends. They did not know, 
 at this moment, that it was the cork of Frank's shuttle- 
 cock ; but, when they afterward found it out, they were 
 very much obliged to him ; and when his father heard 
 this instance of his good-nature, he was much pleased. 
 He set Frank upon the table before him after dinner, 
 when all his friends were present, and said to him 
 
 " My dear little son, I am glad to find that you are 
 of such a generous disposition. Believe me, such a dis- 
 position is of more value than all the battledoors and 
 shuttlecocks in the world ; you are welcome to as many 
 corks and feathers as you please ! you, who are so wil- 
 ling to help your friends in their amusements, shall find 
 that we are all ready and eager to assist you in yours." 
 
 Close to the garden which Frank's mother had given 
 to him there was a hut in which garden-tools and water 
 ing-pots used formerly to be kept ; but it had been found 
 to be too small for this purpose, and a larger had been 
 built in another part of the kitchen-garden : nothing 
 was now kept in that which was near Frank's garden 
 but some old flower-pots and pans. Frank used to like 
 to go into this hut to play with the flower-pots ; they
 
 FRANK. 
 
 99 
 
 were piled up higher than his head ; and one day, when 
 he was pulling out. from the undermost part of the pile 
 a large pan, the whole pile of flower-pots shook from 
 bottom to top, and one of the uppermost flower-pots fell 
 down. If Frank had not run away in an instant, it 
 would have fallen on his head. As soon as he had a little 
 recovered from his fright, he saw that the flower-pot 
 had been broken by the fall, and he took up the broken 
 pieces, and went into the house to his mother to tell her 
 what had happened. He found his father and mother 
 sitting at the table writing letters : they both looked up 
 when he came in, and said 
 
 " What is the matter, Frank ? you look very pale." 
 
 " Because, mamma, I have broken this flower-pot." 
 
 " Well, my dear, you do rightly to come and tell us 
 that you broke it. It is an accident. There is no oc- 
 casion to be frightened about it." 
 
 " No, mamma : it was not that which frightened me 
 so much. But it is well that I did not break my own 
 head, and all the flower-pots in the garden-house." 
 
 Then he told his mother how he had attempted to pull 
 out the undermost pan, and how " the great pile shook 
 from top to bottom." 
 
 " It is well you did not hurt yourself, indeed, Frank !" 
 said his mother. 
 
 His father asked if there was a key to the door of the 
 hut. 
 
 " Papa, there is an old rusty lock, but no key." 
 
 " The gardener has the key I will go for it directly," 
 said his father, rising from his seat ; " and I will lock 
 that door, lest the boy should do the same thing again." 
 
 " No, papa," said Frank ; " I am not so silly as to do 
 again what I know might hurt me." 
 
 " But, my dear, without doing it on purpose, you might 
 by accident, when you are playing in that house, shake 
 those pots, and pull them down upon yourself. When- 
 ever there is any real danger, you know I always tell 
 you of it. And it is much better to prevent any evil 
 than to be sorry for it afterward. 1 will go this minute 
 and look for the key, and lock the door," continued his 
 father. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, stopping him, " you need not go 
 for the key, ribr lock the door ; for, if you desire me not 
 to play in the old garden-house, I will not play there ; 
 E 3
 
 100 FRANK. ' 
 
 I will not go in, I promise you ; I will never even open 
 the door." 
 
 "Very well, Frank: I can trust to your promise; 
 therefore I want no lock and key. Your word is 
 enough." 
 
 " But only take care you do not forget, and run in by 
 accident, Frank," said his mother ; " as you have such 
 a habit of going there, you might forget." 
 
 " Mamma, 1 will not forget my promise," said Frank. 
 
 A FEW days after this time, Frank's father and mother 
 were walking in the garden, and they came to the old 
 garden-house, and they stopped and looked at the door, 
 which was a little open. This door could not be blown 
 open by the wind, because it stuck against the ground 
 at one corner, and could not be easily moved. 
 
 " I assure you, mamma, I did not forget I did not 
 open it I did not go in, indeed, papa," said Frank. 
 
 His father answered " We did not suspect you of 
 having opened the door, Frank." 
 
 And his father and mother looked at one another and 
 smiled. 
 
 His father called the gardener, and desired that he 
 would not open the door of the old garden-house ; and 
 he ordered that none of the servants should go in there. 
 
 A week passed, and another week passed, and a third 
 week passed, and again Frank's father and mother were 
 walking in the garden ; and his mother said 
 
 " Let us go and look at the old garden-house." 
 
 His father and mother went together, and Frank ran 
 after them, rejoicing that he had kept his promise he 
 never had gone into that house, though he had been 
 often tempted to do so, because he had left there a little 
 boat of which he was very fond. When his father and 
 mother had looked at the door of the garden-house, they 
 again looked at each other and smiled, and said 
 
 " We are glad to see, Frank, that you have kept your 
 word, and that you have not opened this door." 
 
 " I have not opened the door, papa," answered Frank ; 
 " but how do you know that by only looking at it V 
 
 '* You may find out how we know it ; and we had 
 rather that you should find it out than that we should 
 tell it to you," said his father.
 
 FRANK. 101 
 
 Frank guessed, first, that they recollected exactly how 
 far open the door had been left, and that they saw it 
 was now open exactly to the same place. But his father 
 answered that this was not the way ; for that they 
 could not be certain, by this means, that the door had 
 not been opened wider, and then shut again to the same 
 place. 
 
 " Papa, you might have seen the mark in the dust 
 which the door would have made in opening. Was that 
 the way, papa 1" 
 
 " No ; that is a tolerably good way ; but the trace of 
 the opening of the door might have been effaced, that is, 
 rubbed out, and the ground might have been smoothed 
 again. There is another circumstance, Frank, which, 
 if you observe carefully, you may discover." 
 
 Frank took hold of the door, and was going to move 
 it, but his father stopped his hand. 
 
 " You must not move the door look at it without 
 stirring it." 
 
 Frank looked carefully, and then exclaimed 
 
 " I've found it out, papa ! I've found it out ! I see a 
 spider's web, with all its fine thin rings and spokes, like 
 a wheel, just at the top of the door, and it stretches 
 from the top of the door to this post, against which the 
 door shuts. Now, if the door had been shut or opened 
 wider, this spider's web would have been crushed or 
 broken the door could not have been shut or opened 
 without breaking it. May I try, papa?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 He tried to open the door, and the spider's web broke, 
 and that part of it which had been fastened to the door 
 fell down, and hung against the post. 
 
 " You have found it out now, Frank, you see," said 
 his father. 
 
 His mother was going to ask him if he knew how a 
 spider makes his web ; but she stopped, and did not then 
 ask him this question, because she saw that he was 
 thinking of his little boat. 
 
 " Yes, my dear Frank ! you may go into the house 
 now," said his mother, " and take your little boat." 
 
 Frank ran in, and, seizing it, hugged it in his arms. 
 
 " My dear little boat, how glad I am to have you 
 again !" cried he : "I wish I might go to the river side 
 this evening, and swim it ; there is a fine wind, and it 
 would sail fast."
 
 102 PRANK. 
 
 Frank was never allowed to go to the river side to 
 swim his boat, without his father, or mother, or eldest 
 brother could go with him. 
 
 " Mamma, will you V said he " can you be so good 
 as to go with me this evening to the river side, that I 
 may swim my boat ?" 
 
 His mother told him that she had intended to walk 
 another way ; but that she would willingly do what he 
 asked her, as he had done what she desired. His father 
 said the same, and they went to the river side. His 
 father walked on the banks, looking till he saw a place 
 where he thought it would be safe for Frank to swim his 
 boat. He found a place where the river ran in between 
 two narrow banks of land : such a place, Frank's father 
 told him, in large rivers, is called a creek. 
 
 The water in this creek was very shallow ; so shal- 
 low, that you could see the sand and many coloured 
 pebbles at the bottom: yet it was deep enough for 
 Frank's little boat to float upon it. Frank put his boat 
 into the water he launched it and set the sail to the 
 wind ; that is, turned it so that the wind blew against 
 it, and drove the boat on. 
 
 It sailed swiftly over the smooth water, and Frank 
 was happy looking at it and directing it various ways, 
 by setting or turning the sail in different directions, and 
 then watching which way it would go. 
 
 " Mamma," said he, after his mother had remained a 
 good while, " you are very good-natured to stop with me 
 so long ; but I am afraid you will not have time to come 
 again to-morrow ; and, if you cannot, I shall not have 
 the pleasure of swimming my boat. Papa, the water is 
 so very shallow here, and all the way along this creek, 
 that if I was to fall in, I could not drown myself; and 
 the banks are so close that I could walk to them, and 
 get on dry land directly. I wish, papa, you would let 
 me come here whenever I please, without anybody with 
 me ; then I should not be obliged to wait till mamma 
 had time, or till my brother Edward had done his lesson ; 
 then I could swim my boat so happily, papa, whenever 
 I pleased." 
 
 " But how can I be sure that you will never go to any 
 other part of the river, Frank ?" 
 
 " You know, papa, I did not open the door, or go into 
 that garden-house, after you had desired me not, and 
 after I had promised that I would not ; and, if I promise
 
 PRANK, 103 
 
 that I will not go to any other part of the river, you 
 know you can believe me." 
 
 " Very true, Frank ; and therefore I grant your re- 
 quest. I can trust to your doing what I desire you to 
 do ; and I can trust to your promise. You may come 
 here whenever you please, and sail your boat in this 
 creek, from the stamp of this willow tree, as far in this 
 way towards the land as you please." 
 
 Frank clapped his hands joyfully, and cried, " Thank 
 you, papal thank you! Mamma, do you hear that! 
 Papa has given me leave to come to this place when- 
 ever I please to swim my boat ; for he trusts to my 
 promise, mamma." 
 
 " Yes, that is a just reward for you, Frank," said his 
 mother. " The being believed another time, and the 
 being more and more trusted, is the just reward foe 
 having done as you said that you would do, and for 
 having kept your promise." 
 
 ** Oh, thank you, mamma thank you, papa, for trust- 
 ing to my promise !" said Frank, 
 
 " You need not thank me, my dear, for believing you," 
 said his father ; " for I cannot help believing you, be- 
 cause you speak truth. Being believed is not only the 
 reward, but the necessary consequence of speaking 
 truth," 
 
 NEXT morning at breakfast Frank's father told him, 
 that if all the flower-pots were carried out of the old 
 garden-house, and if they were removed without being 
 broken, he would give the empty hut to Frank for his 
 own. 
 
 " For my own !" cried Frank, leaping from his chair 
 with delight " For my own, papa ! And do you mean 
 that I may new roof it and thatch it ?" 
 
 " If you can," said his father, smiling. " You may 
 do what you please with it as soon as the flower-pots 
 are removed, but not till then : they must all be carried 
 to the house at the other end of the garden before I 
 give you the hut. How will you get this done, Frank 1 
 for you are not tall enough to reach to the uppermost 
 part of the pile yourself ; if you begin at the bottom, 
 you will pull them all down, and hurt yourself, and you 
 would break them, and I should not give you the house."
 
 104 FRANK. 
 
 ** Papa, perhaps the gardener " 
 
 " No, the gardener is busy." 
 
 Frank looked round the breakfast-table at his brother 
 Edward, and at his three cousins, William, Charles, and 
 Frederick they all smiled, and immediately said that 
 they would undertake to carry the flower-pots for him. 
 
 The moment they had eaten their breakfast, which 
 they made haste to finish, they all ran out to the old 
 garden-house. Edward took a wooden stool, mounted 
 upon it, and handed down carefully the uppermost of the 
 garden-pots to his cousins, who stood below, and they 
 carried them to the new garden-house. 
 
 As all these boys helped one another, and worked 
 with good-will, and in good order, the great pile was 
 soon carried away so soon that Frank was quite sur- 
 prised to see it was gone. Not one flower-pot was 
 broken. Frank ran to tell his father this ; and his father 
 went out and saw that the garden-pots had been safely 
 removed; and then he gave the house to Frank, and 
 put the key of it into his hand. 
 
 Frank turned to his brother Edward and his cousins, 
 and said, " Edward, how good you and my cousins 
 were to help me !" 
 
 " You deserved that we should do this for you," said 
 Edward. " We do not forget how good-natured you 
 were to us about the cork of your shuttlecock. When 
 we were in distress, you helped us ; so it was fair that 
 we should help you when you wanted it." 
 
 " Yes," said his father, " those who are ready to help 
 others generally find others ready to help them. This 
 is the natural and just reward of good-nature." 
 
 " Reward ! papa," said Frank : " that word you used 
 several times yesterday, and again to-day ; and it al- 
 ways puts me in mind of the time when you gave me 
 my Bewick on Quadrupeds. You gave it to me do 
 you remember 1 ! as a reward for having, as you wrote 
 in the book, cured myself of a foolish habit. I recol- 
 lect that was the first time I ever exactly understood 
 the meaning of the word reward." 
 
 " And what do you understand, Frank, by the word 
 reward?" said his father. 
 
 " O papa ! 1 know very well ; for mamma then told 
 me, ' a reward is something we like, something we wish 
 to have, something ' papa, I thought I could explain it 
 better ; I cannot explain it in words ; but I know what 
 it is. Will you explain it to me again, papa 1"
 
 FRANK, 105 
 
 ** Do you try first if you understand what it means ; 
 and if you will stand still, and have a little patience, 
 you will perhaps be able to find words to express your 
 thoughts. Try, and do not look back at the dear hut; 
 the hut is there, and will not run away; you will have 
 time enough, all the morning and all the evening, to play 
 in it,, and to do what you please with the roof of it. So, 
 now stand still, and show me that you can command 
 your attention for a few minutes What is a reward?" 
 Frank, after he had considered for a few moments, 
 answered : 
 
 " A reward is something that is given to us for having 
 done right ; no, it is not always a thing, for though the 
 first reward that was given to me was a thing a book 
 yet I have had rewards that were of a different sort. 
 That was a reward to me yesterday about the boat ; 
 and when you, papa, or when mamma praises me, that 
 is a sort of reward." 
 " It is," said his father. 
 
 " Papa, I believe," continued Frank, " that a reward 
 is any sort of pleasure which is given to us for doing 
 right. Is it, papa f" 
 
 " It is, my dear. Now answer me one or two more 
 questions, and then I will reward your patience by let- 
 ting you go to your hut." 
 
 " I am not thinkinf of that now, papa ; I will stay and 
 answer as many questions as you please." 
 
 " Then what do you think," said his father, " is the 
 use of rewards V 
 
 " To make me to make all people do right, I believe." 
 " True ; and how do rewards make you or make other 
 people do right ?" 
 
 *' Why " Frank paused, and considered a little while. 
 " Papa, you know I like, and all other people like, to 
 have rewards, because they are always pleasures ; and 
 when I know I am to have a reward, or when I hope 
 even that I shall be rewarded for doing any right thing", 
 I wish and try to do it ; and if I have been rewarded 
 once, I think I shall be rewarded again for doing the 
 same sort of thing; and therefore I wish to do it. 
 And, even if I have not had the reward myself, if I have 
 seen another person rewarded for doing something well, 
 I think and hope that perhaps I may have the same if 
 I do the same, and that makes me wish to do it. Whea 
 you gave John, the gardener's boy, a liiile watering-po't, 
 E 3
 
 106 FRANK. 
 
 because he had made a net for the cherry-trees, I re- 
 member I wished to make a net too, because I hoped 
 that you would give me a watering-pot; and when 
 mamma praised my brother Edward, and gave him a 
 table, with a drawer in it, as a reward for keeping his 
 room in order, I began to try to keep my room in better 
 order and you know, Edward, I have kept it in order, 
 in better order, ever since. Papa, that is all I can think 
 of about the use of rewards I cannot explain it bet- 
 ter." 
 
 " You have explained it as well as I expected that 
 you could, Frank. Now run off to your hut, or your 
 house, whichever you please to call it." 
 
 FRANK found that there were holes in the thatch of 
 his house, and that, when it rained, the rain came through 
 these holes and wetted him, and spoiled the things which 
 he kept in his house therefore, he wished to mend the 
 thatch. He went to his father, and asked him if he 
 would be so good as to give him some straw. 
 
 His father said that he would, if Frank would do 
 something tor him which he wanted to have done. 
 
 " I will do any thing I can for you, papa," said Frank. 
 " What is it !" % 
 
 " Look at these laburnums, Frank," said his father. 
 " Do you see a number of blackish dry pods hanging 
 from the branches ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa, a great number." 
 
 " Do you know what those pods contain ?" 
 
 " Yes ; little black shining seeds the seeds of the 
 laburnum-tree." 
 
 " I want to have all those seeds, that I may sow them 
 in the ground, and that I may have more laburnum-trees:. 
 Now, Frank, if, before the sun sets this evening, you bring 
 me all those seeds, I will give you straw enough to mend 
 the thatch of your house." 
 
 " Thank you, papa. I will work very hard, and gather 
 them as fast as I can." 
 
 Frank ran for his basket, and began to pluck the pods 
 from the lower branches of one of the laburnums. Soon 
 he had filled his basket with the pods, and then those 
 which he tried to cram in at the top of the basket sprang 
 up again and fell over the sides ; so he began to make
 
 FRANK, JQ-JT 
 
 a heap on the ground of the pods which he afterward 
 pulled from the tree. When he had finished gathering 
 all that he could reach from the lower branches of one 
 tree, he went to the lower branches of the next, and 
 made a heap under that tree, and so on. There were 
 nine laburnum-trees ; and when he had got to the ninth 
 tree, and was pulling the seeds from that, he heard a 
 rustling noise behind him ; and, turning round, he saw 
 Pompey, the little dog, dragging the laburnum-seeds 
 about in his mouth. 
 
 " O Pompey ! Pompey ! let those alone !" cried Frank. 
 
 But as fast as he drove him from one heap, Pompey 
 ran to another, and scratched and scattered about the 
 heaps with his feet, and snatched up the pods in his 
 mouth, and scampered with them over the garden, while 
 Frank ran after him ; till at last he caught the dog, and, 
 in spite of Pompey's struggling, carried him out of the 
 garden, and shut the door. When he had put Pompey 
 out, he collected all his pods together again ; and, just 
 when he had done so, the gardener opened the garden 
 door, and Pompey was squeezing in between the gar- 
 dener's legs ; but Frank called loud to beg that the gar- 
 dener would keep him out : and every time anybody 
 opened the garden door, Frank was obliged" to watch, 
 and to call to them, making the same request. This 
 was so troublesome, and interrupted him so often, that 
 Frank thought it would be better to carry his heaps of 
 pods into his garden-house, and lock the door, so that 
 Pompey could not get in to pull them about. Frank 
 carried the heaps, dropping many pods by the way, and 
 going backwards and forwards so often, that this took 
 up a great deal of time. He heard the clock strike 
 three. 
 
 " Three o'clock already !" said Frank to himself, 
 looking at the number of pods which hung on the upper 
 branches of the laburnums. " How much I have to do, 
 and how little I have done ! O Pompey ! Pompey ! you 
 don't know the mischief you have done me," said he, 
 as the dog squeezed his way in when the gardener again 
 opened the door. 
 
 "Indeed, master," said the gardener, "I cannot keep 
 him out." 
 
 " Well, Pompey, come in ! you cannot do me any 
 more harm. Now you may run snuffing about the gar-
 
 108 FKANK. 
 
 den as much as you please, for my seeds are safe 
 locked up." 
 
 But though the pods were safe, yet it wasted Frank's 
 time sadly to lock and unlock the door every time he 
 had a fresh basketful to throw into the house ; and he 
 was obliged to keep the basket hanging always upon his 
 arm, lest Ponipey should get at it. Frank lost time also 
 in jumping up and down every five minutes from the 
 stool on which he was obliged to stand to reach the 
 pods from the higher branches, and moving this stool 
 from place to place took up time. Presently he had 
 gathered all that he could reach when standing upon 
 the stool, even when he stood on tiptoe, and stretched 
 as far as he could possibly reach. Then there was time 
 lost in fixing a step-ladder, which his father lent to him 
 upon condition that he should never get upon it till he 
 had fixed it quite steadily, and had put in a certain prop, 
 all which required some minutes to settle properly. The 
 running up and down this ladder with his basket contin- 
 ually, as it was filled, tired Frank, and delayed him so 
 much that he got on with his business very slowly, 
 though he worked as hard as he could. 
 
 The morning passed, and the evening came ; and after 
 dinner Frank jumped from his chair as soon as the table- 
 cloth was taken away, and said he must go to his work, 
 for that he was afraid he should not be able to finish it 
 before sunset. His brother Edward and his three cous- 
 ins said that they would help' him if his father had no 
 objection. His father said that he had no objection ; 
 that he should be glad that they should help Frank, be- 
 cause he had worked so hard, and had been so good-hu- 
 moured when the little dog had hindered him. 
 
 Frank ran to the laburnum-trees, followed by his 
 brother and cousins, rejoicing. As he went, he said, 
 " Now we shall get on so quick ! as quickly as we did 
 when you all helped me to move the flower-pots." 
 
 ' Yes," said Edward, "and for the same reason." 
 
 1 Yes ; because there are so many of us," said Frank. 
 
 ' And for another reason," said Edward. 
 
 ' What other reason V 
 
 ' Look, and you will see," said his father. 
 
 Then Edward settled that each person should do so, 
 that they might each do what they could do best, and that 
 they might help one another, and do what they wanted 
 as quickly as they could. Edward was to stand upon
 
 FRANK. 
 
 the ladder, because he was the tallest, and he could 
 reach most easily to the uppermost branches of the 
 tree : he was not obliged to run up and down the ladder 
 to carry the seeds, because Frank was appointed to 
 collect and carry the pods off as fast as Edward gath- 
 ered and threw them to the ground. Frederick and 
 William sat on the grass at the door of the hut, where 
 the great heap had been collected ; and it was Charles's 
 business to supply them with pods, from which they 
 shelled the seeds. As soon as Edward had finished 
 pulling all the pods from the trees, he joined Frederick 
 and William, and helped to shell the seeds, that is, to pick 
 them out of the pods ; and as soon as Frank had brought 
 from underneath the trees all the pods that had been 
 thrown there, he was set to open the pods ready for the 
 pickers ; and Charles, who had by this time brought out 
 ail that were in the hut, was now employed constantly 
 in collecting and throwing into a heap the empty husks 
 because it was found that time had been lost in search- 
 ing the empty husks, which had been often mistaken, 
 at first sight, for full pods. 
 
 " Ay," said Frank, " now I see the other reason that 
 you meant, Edward. I see why we go on so quickly 
 and well ; because each person does one thing, and the 
 thing he can do best so no time is lost." 
 
 No time was lost. And they finished their work, had 
 the laburnum-seeds shelled and collected in a brown 
 paper bag, and all the rubbish and husks cleared away, 
 just as the sun was setting. 
 
 ^. " Here are mamma and papa corning to see if we have 
 aone !" cried Frank ; " and we have done. Come, papa ; 
 come as quickly as you please ; here are the seeds, all 
 ready ! But do you know, papa," continued Frank, as 
 he put the bag of seeds into his father's hands, " it was 
 as much as ever we could do, for I lost so much time 
 this morning. It was all we could do to make up for it 
 this evening. And though there were so many of us, 
 and though we all went on as fast as we could, I am 
 sure we should never have finished it in time if we had 
 not managed as we have done." 
 
 His father asked him in what manner they had man- 
 aged. Frank explained, and showed how they had 
 divided the work among them, so as to save time. His 
 father told him that manufacturers and workmen, who 
 are obliged to do a great deal of work in a short time, 
 10
 
 110 PRANK. 
 
 always, if they are wise, help one another, and save 
 time in the same manner that he and his brother and 
 cousins had done. " And this," added he, turning to 
 Edward, " this is what is called the division of labour." 
 
 " In making this pin," continued he, taking a pin from 
 Frank's mother "in making a pin, eighteen different 
 workmen are employed. In a manufactory for making 
 pins, each workman does that part which he can do 
 best. One man draws out the wire of which the pins 
 are made; another straightens it; a third cuts it; a 
 fourth grinds it at the top, ready to receive the heads. 
 To make the heads requires the different work of two 
 or three men. Another man'? business is to put on the 
 heads; another's, to sharpen the points; and sticking 
 the pins in the papers is a business by itself. Now one 
 workman, if he were to try to make a pin without any 
 assistance from others, could not, probably, make a 
 single pin; certainly he would not be able to make 
 twenty in a day. But with even nine men to assist him, 
 dividing the labour among them as I have described to 
 you, they could all together make forty-eight thousand 
 pins in a day ; so that each of the ten men might be 
 reckoned to make four thousand eight hundred pins." 
 
 " Ten men make forty-eight thousand pins in a day !" 
 cried Frank ; " and one man four thousand eight hun- 
 dred pins ! O papa ! is this true ?"* 
 
 " Yes, I believe it is true," said his father. " When 
 we go in, your brother Edward shall read to us an ac- 
 count of this, if he likes it, from the book in which I 
 
 * "I have seen * small manufactory of this hind" (viz., of pin- 
 making), " where ten men only were employed, and where some of 
 them, consequently, performed two or three distinct operations. 
 But, though they were very poor, and therefore but indifferently ac- 
 commodated with the necessary machinery, they coulcj, wheri they 
 exerted themselves, make, among them, about twelve pounds of pins 
 in a day. There are, in a pound, upwards of four thousand pins of 
 a middle size. Those ten persons, therefore, could make upwards 
 of forty-eight thousand pins in a day. Each .person, therefore, 
 making a tenth part of forty-eight thousand pins, might' be consider- 
 ed as making four thousand eight hundred pins in a day. But, if 
 they had all wrought separately and independently, and .without any 
 of them having been educated to this peculiar business, they cer- 
 tainly could not each of them have made twenty, perhaps not one 
 pin a day ; that is certainly not the two hundred and fortieth part 
 of what they are at present capable of performing, in consequence 
 of a proper division and combination of their different operations." 
 Smith's Wealth of Nations, vol. i., page 6, quarto edition.
 
 FRANK. HI 
 
 read It. But, Frank, look what comes here !" added 
 his father, pointing to a labourer, who now came into 
 the garden witli a great bundle of straw " Where 
 would you like to have it put V 
 
 Frank chose to have it in his garden-house ; and his 
 father ordered that it should be put there. Then Frank 
 thanked his brother and cousins for helping him so 
 kindly; and he said that he thought he should never 
 forget the advantage of the division of labour. 
 
 SOME time ago, Frank had told his father that he 
 would persevere in trying to learn to read, that he might 
 be able to employ and to entertain himself. He did as 
 he said that he would do. He persevered till he had 
 learned to .read quite easily. Then he read, in books 
 which his mother lent him, accounts of the camel ; of 
 which, ever since he had seen the print of it, he had 
 wished to know the history; He read also entertaining 
 accounts of the elephant, and of many other animals. 
 In the.books which were lent to him, he read only what 
 he could understand ; when he came to any thing that 
 he did not understand, he asked his father or mother to 
 explain it to him. If they had not time to attend to 
 him, or to answer his questions, he went on to some 
 other part of the book which he could understand ; or 
 he left off reading, and went to do something else. 
 Whenever he felt tired of reading, or whenever he 
 wanted to hear or see something that was going on in 
 the room with him., and found that he could not attend 
 to what he was reading, he always shut the book, and 
 put it away he never kept a book before him when he 
 was tired or sleepy, or when he was thinking of some- 
 thing else. 
 
 So Frank became very fond of reading. He could 
 now employ himself happily on rainy days, when he 
 could not run out of doors, or when he had no one to 
 talk or to play with in the house. At night, when the 
 candles came, and when all the rest of the family began 
 to read, Frank also could read ; and he said 
 
 " Papa, now I am as happy as you are when the 
 candles come ! Thank you, mamma, for teaching me 
 to read. 1 *
 
 112 FRANK. 
 
 His mother gave him a book called " The Book of 
 Trades." When she gave it to him, she said to him 
 
 " Frank, there are many parts of this book which you 
 cannot yet understand : but you will, I think, be enter- 
 tained by looking over the prints of the men and women 
 at work at their different trades, and you will under- 
 stand some of the descriptions of what they are doing." 
 
 Frank thanked his mother, and he looked over all the 
 prints in the four volumes of this book. He looked at 
 each print carefully, and examined every thing in it 
 before he turned over the leaf to look for another. He 
 was pleased with the print of the chandler making 
 candles ; and of the shoemaker making shoes ; and of 
 the turner turning at his lathe ; and of the ropemaker 
 making ropes ; and of the weaver working at his loom. 
 After he had looked at these prints, he read some of the 
 explanations and descriptions, in hopes that he should 
 be better able to understand the prints. He began with 
 the chandler, who, as his mother told him, is a person 
 who makes candles: and Frank was curious to know 
 how candles are made. But there were several words 
 in this account of candle-making, of which he did not 
 know the meaning ; and there was one whole sentence, 
 about kales of cotton performing quarantine, which puz- 
 zled him sadly. His mother explained to him several 
 of the words which he did not understand; but she 
 told him that she could not then explain to him what 
 was meant by performing quarantine ; and that he could 
 understand how candles were made without having this 
 sentence explained to him. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I do now know pretty well 
 how they are made, but I think I should understand it 
 all a great deal better if I were to see it done mamma, 
 I wish I could see somebody making candles." 
 
 A few days afterward Frank's mother called him to 
 her, and told him that the cook was going to make some 
 candles. " Should you like to see them made, Frank ?" 
 
 " Yes, very much indeed !" said Frank : "thank you, 
 mamma, for calling me." 
 
 Then his mother took him to the room where the 
 cook was preparing to make mould candles. The first 
 thing he saw was a large saucepan, which the cook had 
 taken off the fire to cool. Frank asked what was in 
 the saucepan. He was told that it was full of melted 
 mutton suet. Some suet, which had not been melted,
 
 FRANK. 113 
 
 was shown to him ; he said that it looked like cold fat ; 
 and he was told that this suet was the fat of mutton. 
 
 The next thing which Frank saw was a wooden 
 frame, or stand, about the height of a common table. 
 In this stand were a number of round holes, through 
 each of which hung a tube, or hollow pipe of pewter, 
 the size of a candle. These hollow pipes were taper ; 
 that is, narrower at one end than at the other, and grow- 
 ing narrower and narrower by degrees. The largest 
 ends were uppermost as the pipes hung in the frame ; 
 so that they looked like the shapes of candles, with the 
 part that is usually lighted hanging downwards ; at the 
 narrow end, these pewter tubes were made in the shape 
 of the top of a tallow candle before it is lighted. 
 
 " Mamma ! I know what this is !" cried Frank ; " and 
 I know what it is for. It is the same sort of thing which 
 I saw in the print of the tallow-chandler, in the Book 
 of Trades. These pipes are the moulds in which the 
 candles are to be made ; the melted stuff, the melted 
 suet, is to be poured into this open mouth, and it runs 
 all the way down, down. Then it is left to cool, and 
 then it is pulled out, and the candle is made this broad- 
 est end is the bottom of the candle, which is to go into 
 the candlestick, and this narrow end the top it is hang- 
 ing upside down now. You see I understand it all, 
 mamma 1" 
 
 " Stay, Frank, do not be in such a hurry ; do not be 
 too quick. You do not understand it all yet. You have 
 not observed or discovered some things in these moulds 
 which are necessary to be known ; and you have for- 
 gotten the most material part of a candle." 
 
 " What can that be, mamma'? Tell me, pray." 
 
 " I would rather that you should think, and find it out 
 for yourself, Frank." 
 
 FRANK considered a little, and then answered 
 
 " Mamma, I have thought of every thing, and I can 
 think of nothing else. Here are the moulds, and the 
 melted grease which is to be poured into the mould to 
 make the candle. What can be wanting ?" 
 
 " How would you light the candle ?" said his mother. 
 
 " By the wick, to be sure ! O, the wick ! I forgot 
 the wick 1 Where is the- wick ? What is the wick 
 made of ?"
 
 114 FRANK. 
 
 " It is made of cotton look here, master !" said the 
 cook, showing him a ball of coarse cotton. 
 
 " And how do you get this cotton into the middle of 
 the candle ?" 
 
 " That I will show you, sir," said the cook. 
 
 She then took one of the candle-moulds out of the 
 wooden frame in which it hung ; and Frank looked at 
 the narrow end which had hung downwards, and he 
 saw at the bottom a little hole ; and he said 
 
 " Here is a little hole ; this must be stopped, or else 
 all the melted tallow will run through it. Shall I stop 
 it up with this bit of paper, mamma 1 I will roll it up 
 and make a stopper, shall I V 
 
 " No, thank you, master," said the cook ; " you shall 
 see how I will stop it up." 
 
 Then she doubled the cotton which she held in her 
 hand ; and she cut off as much as would reach from one 
 end of the candle-mould to the other, and a little more. 
 Then she put the cotton, just where she had doubled it, 
 in at the broadest end of the mould, and she let it fall 
 all down the pipe 1o the small hole at the narrow end ; 
 and by means of a wire she drew the cotton through 
 the hole, leaving a loop of cotton as long as that which 
 is commonly seen at the wick of a tallow candle which 
 has not been lighted. Then she stuck a peg of wood 
 into the little hole ; this peg, together with the cotton 
 which had been put through the hole, stopped it up com- 
 pletely, so that none of the melted tallow could run 
 through it. She next tied the other ends of the cotton 
 together, and put a small bit of wood, like a skewer, 
 through the loop, which she had made by tying the cot- 
 ton together. This skewer lay across the broad end of 
 the mould, and fitted into two notches in the outer rim 
 of the mould, at opposite sides. The cotton was now 
 tight in the mould from top to bottom. Frank looked 
 into the mould and saw that it was so. 
 
 " Cook, why are you so careful to make the cotton 
 tight, and to put it just in the middle of the mould 1 ?" 
 said Frank. 
 
 " That the wick of my candle may be in the middle," 
 said the cook. " In good candles the wick must always 
 be in the middle." 
 
 When the cook had put cotton in the same manner 
 into all the moulds, she was ready to pour the melted 
 tallow in them. Frank was afraid that the tallow had
 
 
 FRANK. 115 
 
 grown cold, because the saucepan in which it was had 
 been taken off the fire some time. But the cook said it 
 was quite warm enough ; that it would not make good 
 candles if it was very hot. As Frank now went close 
 to the large saucepan, he saw that there was a smaller 
 saucepan withinside of it. The smaller saucepan held 
 the melted tallow; and between the large and the 
 smaller saucepan, the space was filled with water : both 
 at the sides and at the bottom, between the small and 
 large saucepan, there was water. Frank asked the rea- 
 son of this. 
 
 The cook answered, " Master, it is to hinder my tallow 
 from burning, or being made too hot ; which would spoil 
 it, as I told you." 
 
 "But how does the water hinder the tallow from being 
 made too hot ; for the water is hot itself, is not it V 
 
 " It is, master ; but still it keeps the tallow from being 
 too hot 1 can't say how ; but I know it is so, and 1 al- 
 ways do it so." 
 
 " But I ask the reason I want to know the reason, 
 mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " I will endeavour to explain the reason to you some 
 other time, my dear," said his mother ; "but, first, let 
 us look at what the cook is doing, that you may not miss 
 seeing how candles are made." 
 
 Frank looked, and he saw the cook replace all the 
 pewter moulds in the wooden frame, with the narrow 
 ends downwards, and the broadest ends uppermost ; and 
 into the open mouth of the broadest end, which was up- 
 permost, she poured, carefully and slowly, the melted 
 tallow from the spout of the saucepan into each of the 
 candle-moulds. She poured it not over the cotton at 
 the top, but on each side of it, so as to leave the cotton, 
 and the skewer that was put through it, standing above 
 the grease when the mould was filled nearly to the top. 
 When this was done, the cook said that they must leave 
 the tallow to cool : and that it would be some time be- 
 fore it could be cool. 
 
 Frank went away with his mother, and he asked her 
 if she could now answer the question about the hot 
 water. But just then his father called her, and she had 
 not time to answer Frank. 
 
 She was busy all the rest of the morning, and Frank 
 went to his garden and worked in it ; when he was tired 
 of working, he trundled his hoop upon the walk, and
 
 116 FRANK. 
 
 kept it up till he was tired of running after it. It began 
 to rain, and then he went into the house and learned by 
 heart some of the multiplication table, which his mother 
 had desired him to learn. 
 
 Some company dined this day with his father and 
 mother ; and his mother could not talk to him again till 
 after the company had gone away, in the evening. 
 Frank was glad when the company was gone, and when 
 his mother had again time to attend to him. 
 
 THE next day Frank asked his mother to take him to 
 look at the candles ; he said that he hoped the cook 
 had not taken them out of the moulds, for he wished 
 to see that done. The cook had not taken them out ; 
 for his mother had desired that she should not do this 
 till Frank should be present. The first thing the cook 
 did was to pull out the pegs which she had stuck be- 
 tween the cotton of the wick into the little holes at the 
 smallest end of the moulds ; then she took hold of the 
 cotton loop through which the bit of stick had been 
 put at the larger end of the mould, and she drew it up 
 gently ; and with the cotton came the tallow out of the 
 mould, in the shape of a candle ; and as it came out, 
 Frank exclaimed, 
 
 " It is a real candle, indeed ! Shall we light it, mam- 
 ma!" 
 
 " Not yet, my dear. It is not hard enough. It must 
 be hung up for two or three days before it will be fit to 
 be used." 
 
 The cook drew all the candles out of the moulds, and 
 she hung them up to harden. 
 
 " Well, now, mamma, I have observed carefully all 
 that has been done ; and I have not been too quick, have 
 1 1 I have learned something accurately, as you say. 
 Now I know how to make candles !" 
 
 " You have seen how candles are made ; that is, you 
 have seen how mould candles are made. These are 
 called mould candles, because they are made in a mould ; 
 but there are other ways of making candles." 
 
 " Yes, I remember the man in the Book of Trades 
 says that there are dipped candles as well as mould 
 candles." 
 
 " Yes, master," said the cook ; " the dipped candles 
 are made by dipping the wick into the tallow, then letting
 
 FRANK. 117 
 
 it dry, and then dipping it again in the tallow ; and every 
 time more and more sticks to the candle ; and it is left 
 to dry between every dipping ; till at last it is the size 
 the candle should be. Then, besides dipping candles 
 and mould candles, there ar.e rushlights, master ; such 
 as the poor people use here in their cottages, you know." 
 
 " I do not know," said Frank. " Tell me, what are 
 rushlights ? Are they made of rushes 1" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Oh ! tell me how they are made !" 
 
 " If I can, I will take you this evening to the cottage 
 of that good-natured old woman who showed you her 
 spinning-wheel," said his mother ; " and I will ask her 
 to show you how rushlights are made." 
 
 " Thank you, mamma. Are there any other sorts of 
 candles !" 
 
 " There is another sort, which you have seen, and 
 that is not made of tallow." 
 
 " I recollect wax candles, mamma." 
 
 " They may be made nearly in the same manner that 
 dipped tallow candles are made only that melted wax 
 is poured over the wick instead of the wick being dipped 
 into the wax. The wax candle is rolled upon a smooth 
 table, to make it smooth and round. There are other 
 ways of making wax candles ; but I will not tell you 
 any more at present, lest you should not be able to re- 
 member all that you have seen and heard." 
 
 " But, mamma, tell me one thing more," said Frank, 
 and he followed his mother up stairs. " Wax, I know, 
 is made by bees, and wax candles are made of wax ; 
 but there is another kind of wax candles, or of candle 
 that looks like wax. It has a long, hard name, which I 
 cannot remember." 
 
 " Do you mean spermaceti V 
 
 " Yes spermaceti. What is that ?" 
 
 " Spermaceti is a fatty substance prepared from the 
 brain of a species of whale. You have seen the print 
 of a whale, and have read an account of a whale 1" 
 
 " Yes ; the great fish the largest of fishes I remem- 
 ber. I never should have guessed that candles were 
 made of any part of a fish. Mamma, what a number of 
 things we must know before we can know well how 
 any one thing is made or done." 
 
 " Very true, my dear little boy ; and I am glad to see 
 that you wish to acquire or get knowledge."
 
 118 
 
 PRANK. 
 
 His mother could not talk to him any more this morn- 
 ing, but in the evening she called him and said, " Now, 
 Frank, you may walk with your father and me to Mrs. 
 Wheeler's cottage." 
 
 " To the good-natured old woman's ! O ! I am glad 
 of that, mamma !" said Frank. 
 
 He ran for his hat, and he was ready in an instant ; 
 for he was happy to go with his father and mother. It 
 was a fine evening, and the walk was pleasant, through 
 pretty paths, in green fields ; and there were stiles, 
 which Frank liked to get over. He showed his father 
 how quickly he could get over them. 
 
 " Look, papa, how well I can jump ! how I can vault 
 over this stile ? You know, you said, that men ought 
 to be active. Now, papa, am not I active?" 
 
 Frank ran on without waiting for an answer ; and he 
 ran till he came to a rivulet, or little river, or brook, 
 which crossed the path. There he stopped, and stood 
 still, for there was only a narrow plank or board across 
 the stream ; and the hand-rail, by which Frank used to 
 hold when he walked over, had been broken since he 
 had last been at this place. The rail had fallen into the 
 water, and there was nothing by which Frank could 
 hold. His father and mother came up to him. 
 
 " Frank," said his father, " what is the matter ? You 
 look very melancholy." 
 
 ** Yes, papa, because I am afraid we must turn back. 
 We cannot go on." 
 
 " Why not, my dear ?" 
 
 " Look at this broken bridge, papa " 
 
 " Broken hand-rail of a bridge, you mean, Frank. The 
 bridge is not broken. This plank is as broad and as 
 strong as it was before ; and you know you have walked 
 over it safely. You see it will bear my weight ; and I 
 am much heavier than you are," said his father, stand- 
 ing on the plank. 
 
 " Yes, papa ; so I see " 
 
 "And you see," said his father, walking over the 
 bridge, " you see that I can walk over it, though there 
 is no hand-rail." 
 
 "Yes, papa, so I see," said Frank; but he stood still, 
 without attempting to follow his father. 
 
 " Come on, my boy," said his father ; " unless you 
 mean to stand there all night."
 
 FRANK. 119 
 
 " No, papa yes, papa mamma, will you go first ?" 
 
 His mother went over the bridge ; still Frank felt 
 afraid to follow ; but when his father said, " Men ought 
 to be brave boys should conquer their fears/' Frank 
 tried to conquer his fear ; and he put his foot upon the 
 bridge, and his father held out his hand to him, and he 
 walked on, slowly at first, and quicker afterward, till he 
 got quite across. Then he said, 
 
 " Papa, I will go back again, and do it better." 
 
 He went back again, and walked quite stoutly over 
 the plank, his father holding his hand. And then he 
 said, 
 
 " Papa, I will do it without holding your hand." 
 
 So he did. And he went backwards and forwards 
 two or three times, till he had quite conquered his fear. 
 Then he felt glad, and pleased with himself, especially 
 when his mother smiled upon him, and said, 
 
 " That is right, Frank, my dear. This puts me in 
 mind of a little boy who conquered his fear as you have 
 done." 
 ' " Who was that, mamma T" 
 
 " A little boy who was younger than you are." 
 
 " Was it a real boy, mamma 1 And is it a true 
 story !" 
 
 " It is a true story of a real boy he was about five 
 years old." 
 
 " Much younger than 1 am '." cried Frank. " Well, 
 mamma." 
 
 " When this little boy was taken to the seashore, to 
 be bathed for the first time in the sea, he was afraid 
 when he saw the wave of the sea coming, and when he 
 felt it going over him." 
 
 " So should I have been, I dare say, mamma." 
 
 " But he was ashamed of having been afraid, and he 
 was determined to conquer his fear ; and he turned to 
 the sea and said, ' Wave, do that again ! Wave, come 
 over me again!' And the next time he showed no 
 fear." 
 
 " What was the name of the boy, mamma ? and who 
 were his father and mother ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you their names, my dear ; but I can 
 tell you that the boy is son to the greatest general, the 
 greatest hero in England." 
 
 " The greatest hero O, then I know who he is, mam- 
 ma."
 
 120 
 
 FRANK. 
 
 WHEN they came to Mrs. Wheeler's cottage, Frank's 
 father went into a field near the house, with the old 
 woman's son, to look at a fine crop of oats ; and Frank's 
 mother took him into the house, where they found Mrs. 
 Wheeler getting ready her grandson's supper. She 
 stopped doing what she was about when she saw Frank 
 and his mother. She looked glad to see them, and said 
 " You are welcome, madam you're welcome, master; 
 be pleased to sit down." Then she seta chair for mad- 
 am, and a little stool for master, and she swept the 
 hearth quite clean ; and she called to a little girl of 
 about six years old, who was in the room, and bid her 
 run to the garden, and gather some strawberries, and 
 bring them in for Frank. Frank thanked this good-na- 
 tured old woman ; but he said 
 
 " I did not come to beg strawberries ; and though I 
 love strawberries very much, I do not wish to have any 
 of yours, because I believe you have but very few for 
 yourself. What I want you to do for me is, to show me 
 how you make rush candles." 
 
 "That I will, with pleasure, master," said Mrs. 
 Wheeler. 
 
 " But, Mrs. Wheeler, first finish what you were about 
 when we came in," said Frank's mother " I believe 
 you were getting ready your supper." 
 
 " It is George's, my grandson's supper, madam." 
 
 " Then it is not fair that your George should lose his 
 supper because my Frank wants to see rushlights 
 made," said Frank's mother, smiling. 
 
 " That is true," said Frank. " And I dare say that her 
 George, mamma, will be very hungry when he comes 
 in ; for I saw him working hard in the fields and I am 
 always very hungry when I have been working hard. 
 Pray, Mrs. Wheeler, finish getting ready George's sup- 
 per I can wait as long as you please ; and I wish I 
 could do something for you, as you are going to do some- 
 thing for me. Let me carry those sticks to the fire I 
 can do that and you may go on with your cooking." 
 
 " God bless you ! master," said the old woman ; "bat 
 this is too great a load for your little arms." 
 
 " Let me try," said Frank. 
 
 " Yes, let him try," said his mother : " he loves to be 
 useful." 
 
 "And I am useful, too!" cried Frank, carrying the 
 great bundle of sticks to the fire.
 
 FRANK. 121 
 
 His mother began to show him how to put them on 
 the fire 
 
 " But," said she, " some of these are wet, and they 
 will not burn readily." 
 
 "Ay," said the old woman, "I am afraid that is a 
 wet bundle I took it from the wrong place : yonder, in 
 that corner, are all the dry fagots." 
 
 Frank had never heard the word fagots before, and 
 he did not hear it quite plainly now ; but he saw what 
 the old woman meant, because she pointed to the place 
 where the fagots lay. So he ran directly for another 
 bundle of sticks, and he carried it towards the fire ; and, 
 throwing it down beside his mother, said 
 
 " There, mamma, there's another maggot, and a dry 
 maggot, for you !" 
 
 " Fagot, not maggot" said his mother. 
 
 " Maggot !" cried the old woman, laughing with her 
 arms akimbo ; " Lord bless him ! don't he know the 
 difference betwixt a maggot and a fagot ?" 
 
 " What is the difference 1" said Frank. 
 
 "Why, master! a maggot! Lord help us!" the 
 old woman began, as well as she could speak, while she 
 was laughing. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, turning to his mother, " Mam- 
 ma, I would rather you would tell me ; because you 
 will tell me without laughing at me." 
 
 The old woman, who saw that Frank did not like to 
 be laughed at, but who could not stop herself, turned 
 her back that he might not see her ; but he saw her 
 sides shaking all the time his mother was explaining to 
 him the difference between maggot and fagot. 
 
 " A maggot is a small worm ; and a fagot is a bundle 
 of sticks." 
 
 41 Yes, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 "Well, Frank, now I have told you, can you tell me 
 what is a maggot, and what is a fagot ?" 
 
 *' A maggot, mamma, is mamma I did not hear I 
 could not attend to what you said, because" 
 
 The old woman walked out of the room, and stood 
 laughing in the passage. 
 
 " Mamma," whispered Frank, " I shall not call Mrs. 
 Wheeler my good-natured old woman any more, because 
 she is laughing at me." 
 
 " Then, Frank, I am afraid I cannot call you my good- 
 humoured little boy any more. What harm does her 
 11 F
 
 122 FRANK. 
 
 laughing do you, Frank] Let us see, has it broken any 
 of your bones?" 
 
 "No," said Frank, smiling; "but I don't like to be 
 laughed at much especially for not knowing any thing." 
 
 " Then, to avoid being laughed at again for the same 
 thing, had not you better learn that which you did not 
 know?" 
 
 " I had. Now, mamma," said Frank, turning his back 
 to the door, so that he could no longer see Mrs. Wheeler 
 " now, if you will be so good to tell me again, I will 
 attend, if I possibly can ; but I was so much ashamed, 
 mamma " 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, " there is nothing shame- 
 ful in not knowing the meaning of words which you 
 never heard before. When you have not done any 
 thing wrong or foolish, never mind being laughed at a 
 man should never mind being laughed at for a trifling 
 mistake." 
 
 " Mamma, I will never mind tell me now, and I will 
 show you I never mind." 
 
 His mother repeated to him the explanation of the 
 two words ; and as soon as he knew this, he ran to the 
 door, and called out very loud 
 
 " A maggot is a small worm, and a fagot is a bundle 
 of sticks ! You need not laugh any more, Mrs. Wheel- 
 er!" 
 
 " O master, I ask your pardon I will not laugh any 
 more I was very rude I ask your pardon but I'm 
 foolish, and could not help it I hope you are not angry, 
 master. I hope," said Mrs. Wheeler, coming back into 
 the kitchen, and courtesying, "you are not angry, 
 madamV 
 
 " Mamma is not angry at all," said Frank ; " and I 
 was only a little angry ; and it is over now come in, 
 come in," said he, pulling her by the hand, " and look 
 how well the fire is burning that I and mamma that 
 mamma and I made. 
 
 " Bless your little soul ! that forgives and forgets in a 
 minute," said the old woman " I wonder Hannah is 
 not in with the strawberries." 
 
 " I don't want the strawberries yet," said Frank ; 
 " you have not put the pot on the fire to boil the supper 
 for George won't you put it on now 1"
 
 FRANK. 123 
 
 MRS. WHEELER put the pot on, and while the supper 
 was boiling for George she showed Frank how to make 
 rushlights. First, she took down from a hook on which 
 they hung a bundle of rushes. Frank had seen rushes 
 growing in a field near his father's house ; and he had 
 gathered some of them, and had peeled them ; and he 
 knew that in the inside of the rush there is a white 
 soft substance called pith. But when he had attempted 
 to peel rushes, he had always been a great while about 
 it ; and he had seldom been able to peel more than about 
 the length of his finger of the rush without breaking the 
 white pith. Mrs. Wheeler, in an instant, stripped the 
 rush of its thick green outside, all except one narrow 
 stripe or rib of green, which she left to support the soft 
 pith; and she peeled, without breaking it, the whole 
 length of the pith contained in the rush, which was 
 almost as long as Frank's arm. 
 
 " Can you guess, Frank, what part of a candle this 
 rush is to be ?" said his mother. 
 
 Frank thought for a little while, and then answered 
 that he supposed the rush would be made into the wick 
 of the candle, and that it would serve instead of the 
 cotton which he had seen used by the cook in making 
 mould candles. 
 
 " Yes, master, you have guessed right," said Mrs. 
 Wheeler. 
 
 Then she brought from a corner near the fire a 
 gresset, or small pan, in which there was melted grease. 
 Frank gave the rush to her to dip into it : but she said 
 that it would not make a good rush candle, because it 
 had not been left to dry for some days. She took 
 another peeled rush from a bundle which hung up in a 
 press by the fireside. This, which had hung there, as 
 she said, for two or three days, was drier and less white 
 than that which had been freshly peeled. She drew 
 the rush through the melted grease, and she said 
 
 " It will be cool, and fit to burn, in about five minutes." 
 
 In about five minutes it was cool, and the old woman 
 lighted it, and it burnt; but there was so much day- 
 light in the room, as the setting sun was shining full 
 upon the window, that the light of the small rush candle 
 could scarcely be seen. Therefore Mrs. Wheeler took 
 it into another room, at the opposite side of the house, 
 where the sun did not shine at this time. There, when 
 F2
 
 124 FRANK. 
 
 i 
 
 she had shut the shutters, the flame of the rushlight 
 was plainly seen. Frank observed that this rush candle 
 did not give nearly so much light as a thick tallow 
 candle did. Mrs. Wheeler said that she could not afford 
 to buy tallow candles often, and that these rushlights 
 were enough for her. Frank perceived that after he 
 had been a little while in this room, he could see the 
 things in it better than he did when the shutters were 
 first closed, and when his eyes had been dazzled by the 
 sunshine. He was surprised to find that he could make 
 out the words at the bottom of a print, to which the old 
 woman held the light. 
 
 " Mamma, I could scarcely see it before, and now I 
 can see it quite plainly, and 1 will read it to you." 
 
 He read aloud 
 
 " ' For want of a nail the shoe was lost ; 
 For want of a shoe the horse was lost.' " 
 
 Just as Frank got to " the horse was lost" the rushlight 
 was burnt out. 
 
 *' O ! Is the candle gone so soon?" cried Frank. 
 " Mamma," continued Frank, turning to his mother, 
 while Mrs. Wheeler opened the shutters " mamma, 
 you know such a candle as that would last at home the 
 whole night several hours a rush candle lasts at home, 
 mamma." 
 
 " Do you think that the candles' being at home makes 
 any difference as to their burning ?" said Frank's moth- 
 er, smiling. 
 
 " No, no, mamma," said Frank, laughing : " I know 
 that the rush candles which we have at home would 
 burn as long a time here as they do at our house. But 
 I mean that ours burn longer, because there is more 
 grease or tallow about them. Mamma, if there was no 
 tallow about this rush, would it burn at all ] or would it 
 burn away a great deal sooner than it does now ?" 
 
 " Try, and you will see, my dear," said his mother. 
 
 Mrs. Wheeler gave Frank a peeled rush, and he 
 lighted it at the fire, and it burnt ; but the flame was 
 not bright, and it soon went out. Frank dipped it into 
 the grease, and it burnt better. Mrs. Wheeler went to 
 see if George's supper was ready : and Frank continued 
 talking to his mother 
 
 " Mamma, I believe it is the melted grease that burns, 
 and makes the bright flame of the candle : but I do not
 
 FRANK. 125 
 
 know how. Mamma, what becomes of the grease, or 
 the tallow, when the candle burns T" 
 
 " Do not you see the smoke that rises from the top 
 of the flame ?" said his mother;. 
 
 '* Yes, mamma, I see the smoke ; but what has that 
 to do with what I asked you 1" 
 
 ** Do not you know what that smoke is 1 Do not you 
 remember your father's showing you, one evening after 
 tea, the difference between smoke and steam 1" 
 
 " I remember, mamma, steam comes from water 
 when it is made hot ; I remember papa showed me the 
 steam, the vapour, rising from the hot water in the tea- 
 urn ; and I recollect papa held a cold plate over it, and 
 showed me that the cold turned the vapour back again 
 into water ; I saw the drops of water condensed I re- 
 member the word. And I recollect he afterward held a 
 plate over the candle, and said that what rose from the 
 candle was smoke, not steam I do not remember about 
 the smoke I recollect only that the plate was black- 
 ened which was held over the candle, and that the plate 
 was not wet ; but I do not know exactly how it was." 
 
 " Did you never hear any thing more about smoke 1" 
 said his mother. 
 
 " O yes ! I recollect papa told me that smoke, when 
 cold, became soot, and fell down to the ground, or stuck 
 to any cold thing that was near it." 
 
 " Just so the smoke of the candle is the vapour of 
 melted tallow, which boils by the heat of the candle ; 
 and when this vapour is condensed by cold it becomes 
 soot, such as you see sticking to the ceilings where 
 many candles are used : soot is frequently collected on 
 purpose, upon plates held over lamps, and is then called 
 lampblack." 
 
 " Mamma, once I saw in the little, little barrel, at the 
 time the painter was going to paint the black board at the 
 bottom of your room, some light black powder. Was 
 that lampblack 1" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, that was lampblack ; and it is used 
 for paint, and for making blacking for shoes and boots." 
 
 " Very well, mamma, I understand that ; but I want 
 
 to go back to the candle the melted tallow, the vapour 
 
 of boiling tallow, makes the candle burn, and keeps the 
 
 randle burning. Mamma, I do not know how and why 
 
 he candle burns and what is the flame V 
 
 " Frank, till you have more knowledge, I will not at-
 
 126 PRANK. 
 
 tempt to explain that to you," said his mother. " But, 
 whenever you can understand it, you shall read all that 
 is known about the burning of a candle. You will find 
 it in that book which your brother Edward was reading 
 yesterday ' Conversations on Chymistry.' " 
 
 " Ay, that book which he likes so much ! But, mam- 
 ma, I do not like it. Edward said to me, ' Don't inter- 
 rupt me, Frank I am busy I am very happy reading 
 this.' Mamma, I got up behind the chair, and began try- 
 ing to read over his shoulder ; but I did not like the 
 book much." 
 
 -" No, because you did not understand it at all." 
 
 " And I am afraid I shall never understand it," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Do you not understand parts of books now, Frank, 
 which you did not understand when you began to learn 
 to readl" 
 
 " Yes, parts of ' Evenings at Home,' and parts of 
 ' Sandford and Merton,' which I did not understand and 
 did not like last year ; and now I like them very much." 
 fc " Then you may hope that the time will come, if you 
 try to improve yourself, when you will understand and 
 like ' Conversations on Chymistry,' as your brother no w 
 does. Even what you have seen and learned this even- 
 ing will help you a little." 
 
 Just then Frank looked out of the window, and he saw 
 the little girl who had been sent for the strawberries 
 coming along the path which led to the house. She 
 brought a basket of fine strawberries. The old woman 
 set a little deal table in the porch, where the honey- 
 suckles, which hung over the roof of the porch, smelt 
 very sweet. The sun was setting, and it was cheerful 
 and pleasant. 
 
 " Look, master Frank ! I have strawberries for you 
 and for myself too !" said Mrs. Wheeler. " My George 
 takes care of my garden, and I have plenty of fruit and 
 flowers these honeysuckles, that smell so sweet, are 
 all his planting." 
 
 Frank's father returned from the oat-field where he 
 had been ; and Frank and his father and mother sat in 
 the porch covered with honeysuckles, and eat straw- 
 berries and cream. 
 
 AFTER Frank had eaten as many strawberries_as lie
 
 FRANK. 127 
 
 liked, he and his father and mother thanked the good- 
 natured old woman, and his mother put into the little 
 girl's hand some money. The girl courtesied, and smi- 
 led, and looked happy. 
 
 Then Frank followed his father and mother out of the 
 cottage, and his father said that they would walk home 
 by a new way, through the oat-field, and afterward 
 through a neat farmyard, and round by a pretty lane, 
 which would take them to the bridge. Frank did not 
 hear what his father said ; and his father, turning his 
 head back, saw Frank walking slowly behind him, and 
 looking as if he was thinking intently of something. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Frank V said his father 
 
 " I am thinking, papa, about money." 
 
 " What about money, Frank ?" 
 
 " I am thinking how happy that little girl looked when 
 mamma gave her some money, and how glad people 
 always look when money is given to them. The rea- 
 son, I know, is, because they can buy things with 
 money bread and meat, or clothes, or balls and tops, 
 and playthings, or houses, chaises, or any thing they 
 wish for. But, papa, I wonder that the people who 
 have bread and meat, or clothes, and tops, and balls, 
 and all sorts of pretty or useful things, are so foolish as 
 to give them for little bits of gold, or silver, or copper, 
 which are of no use." 
 
 " No use ! My dear, recollect that you have just said 
 that they are of use to buy any thing people want or 
 wish for. Suppose you had two tops, and that you 
 wanted to have a ball instead of one of your tops, you 
 might sell one of your tops, and with the money that 
 would be paid to you for your top, you might buy a 
 ball." 
 
 " But, papa, why could not I change one of my tops ' 
 for a ball, without buying or selling, or having any thing 
 to do with money 1" 
 
 . u Your top is worth more than a ball ; however, you 
 might, if you liked it, exchange your top for a ball ; but 
 it is not so easy to make exchanges of heavy and large 
 things as of light and small things you cannot carry 
 large or heavy things, for instance, coals, or cows, about 
 with you, to exchange ; and yet one man may have more 
 coals and another more cows than he wants ; and, if 
 they wish to exchange these, then it is convenient to 
 give money, which can be readily carried in the pocket."
 
 128 FRANK. 
 
 Frank did not quite understand what his father meant ; 
 his father said that it was too difficult for him to com- 
 prehend, and that he should only puzzle him if he talk- 
 ed to him any more about it yet. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, looking a little mortified, " I am 
 sorry that there are so many things that I cannot under- 
 stand yet what shall I do 1" 
 
 u Attend to those things which you can understand, 
 my dear boy ; and then you will learn more and more 
 every day and every hour. Here are men reaping oats 
 look at the sickle with which they are cutting down 
 the oats did you ever see a sickle before !" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Frank remembered having seen sickles last autumn, 
 when his mother took him to see some men reaping 
 corn; and he said he recollected that the bundles of 
 corn which the men bound together, and set upright on 
 their stalks, were called sheaves, and that the top of 
 each separate stalk of corn is called the ear. 
 
 His father bid him run and gather an ear of barley, 
 which was growing in the next field on the left hand, 
 and also an ear of wheat, which was growing in a field 
 on the right hand ; and when Frank had gathered these, 
 his father showed him the difference between oats, 
 barley, and wheat. Frank knew that wheat is made 
 into bread, and that barley and oats are sometimes made 
 into bread, and that oats are eaten by horses. But there 
 is another use of barley, which he did not know. 
 
 " Did you ever taste beer, Frank V 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " Do you know of what beer is made ?" 
 
 " I think my brother Edward told me that it was made 
 of malt and hops ; and he once, when the brewer was 
 brewing, showed me some hops : he said that hops give 
 the bitter taste to beer. But, papa, I do not know what 
 malt is." 
 
 " Malt is corn that has been made to begin to grow 
 again, and that is not suffered to grow a long time. Corn, 
 you know, is a name for many kinds of grain ; as wheat, 
 barley, bear, oats, and rye." 
 
 " How do they make it grow a little ?" said Frank. 
 
 " By wetting the grain and heaping it up, which makes 
 it hot ; then it swells, and the grain becomes soft ; and, 
 if it is opened, it is found to.coataiii a kind of flour. I
 
 FRANK. 129 
 
 think I once gave you some malt to taste. Do you re- 
 member the taste of it, Frank ?" 
 " Yes, papa, it has a sort of sweet taste." 
 " Well ; when the malt has swelled and is ready to 
 burst, they stop its growth by taking it out of the heap 
 and spreading it upon the ground, and at last by putting 
 it into a place that dries the corn, and prevents it from 
 growing any more." 
 
 " Papa, you showed me such a place at Mr. Craw- 
 ford's, the matlster's, and he called it a kiln. And what 
 do they do next to the malt V 
 " They then brew it, and make beer of it." 
 " I know that. But how do they brew it, papa V 
 " I cannot explain that to you now, my dear ; but the 
 next time the brewer comes I will take you into the 
 brewhouse, and you may then see part of what is done 
 to make beer of malt." 
 
 WHILE Frank's father had been talking about malt and 
 beer, they had walked through two or three fields, and 
 they came to a neat farmhouse. The man to whom 
 the house belonged came out and said 
 
 " How do you do, landlord 1 Madam, you are wel- 
 come. Will you walk into my yard, sir, and look at 
 my new barn, which I am just now thatching 1" 
 
 " Pray, papa, take me with you," said Frank ; " for I 
 want very much to know how to thatch the old gar- 
 den-house better." 
 
 His father took him to the yard. When they came 
 there, Frank saw lying on the ground, on one side .of the 
 yard, a great heap of straw, and on the other side he 
 saw a bundle of hay, of which horses were eating. As 
 he was passing between the heap of straw and the bun- 
 dle of hay, Frank heard his mother tell his father that 
 she once knew a young lady, who had lived till she was 
 fourteen years old in the country, and yet who did not, 
 at that age, know the difference between straw and hay. 
 
 Frank laughed, and said, "What a very ignorant 
 young lady that must be, mamma ! Mamma, I know 
 the difference between straw and hay perfectly : this on 
 my right hand is straw, and this on my left hand is hay. 
 Cows and horses eat hay, but they do not eat straw ; 
 beds are sometimes made of straw; and hats, and a 
 F3
 
 130 PRANK 
 
 great many things, are made of straw ; and houses are 
 thatched with straw, and not with hay. You see, mam- 
 ma, 1 know a great deal more than that young lady, 
 though she was fourteen. How very old !" 
 
 " But all this time you have not told me, Frank, what 
 hay is, and what straw is." 
 
 " Hay is grass dried ; and straw is the stalks of wheat. 
 You know, mamma, last autumn, I saw the men thrash- 
 ing. I saw the corn that was thrashed out of the ears ; 
 and what was left, after the corn was beat out, you told 
 me was called chaff; and the stalks, mamma, you told 
 me were to be called straw." 
 
 " Well remembered, Frank," said his father. " Perhaps, 
 if the poor ignorant young lady of fourteen had at your 
 age had as kind a mother as you have, and had been told 
 and shown all these things, she might have remembered 
 them as you do. But, Frank, the stalks of wheat are 
 not the only stalks that are called straw. The stalks 
 of wheat are called wheat straw; but there are other 
 kinds of straw. The stalks of oats, and of barley, and 
 of rye, are all called straw." 
 
 " Which kind of straw is the best for thatching 
 houses, papa I" 
 
 " Wheat straw, I believe," said his father. 
 
 By this time they had come to the barn which the 
 man was thatching. Frank looked up attentively a little 
 while, and then said 
 
 " The man is so far above me, papa, that I cannot 
 well see how he fastens on the straw. May I go up 
 this ladder, papa ?" 
 
 Frank pointed to a ladder which stood beside that on 
 which the thatcher was at work. Frank's father made 
 him no answer till he had examined if the ladder was 
 firmly fixed, and then he told Frank that he might go 
 up. 
 
 " I will follow you, Frank," added he, " to take care 
 of you when you get to the top." 
 
 " No, papa, thank you, you need not : for I am not at 
 all afraid, because I know so well how to go up and 
 down a ladder." 
 
 Frank ran to the ladder, and a maidservant, who was 
 milking a cow in the yard, cried out 
 
 " Master ! master ! dear young master ! What are 
 you about ? Don't go up the ladder, or you'll break 
 your pretty little legs."
 
 PRANK. 131 
 
 Prank laughed, and began to go up the ladder direct- 
 ly,, He had been accustomed to go up and down a step- 
 ladder which his father had in his library. Formerly, 
 when he was a very little boy, he had not been allowed 
 to go up that ladder : and he never had gone up it till 
 his father gave him leave. And now he was proud of 
 being permitted to mount a ladder. So he went up ; 
 and when he was half way up, he turned back his head 
 to look at the maid, who had hid her face with her 
 hands. Frank laughed more and more at her fright. 
 
 " Take care, Frank : mind what you are about ; hold 
 fast by the sides of the ladder. You are in much more 
 danger now than you were in crossing the plank over 
 the brook ; for, if you miss a rung (a step) of the ladder, 
 you will fall and hurt yourself very much. There is no 
 courage in being careless." 
 
 Frank knew that his father told him the truth about 
 danger, as well as about every thing else, and he always 
 attended to what his father advised : therefore he left 
 off laughing, and he took care to hold fast, and not to 
 miss any rung of the ladder. He found that this ladder 
 was much higher than that which he had been used to 
 go up ; his father was behind him : he reached the top- 
 most rung safely, and his father put one of his arms 
 round Frank, and held him, for his head grew a little 
 giddy ; he had not been used to look down from such a 
 height. In a few minutes, when his attention was fixed 
 on what the thatcher was doing, he forgot the disagreea- 
 ble feeling; and he was entertained by seeing the man- 
 ner in which the house was thatched. 
 
 " Papa, I see that he puts on the straw quite differ- 
 ently from what I did when I was trying to thatch the 
 house in my garden." 
 
 " Why, how did you put on the straw ?" 
 
 " I put it in bundles upon sticks that made the roof." 
 
 " What do you mean by bundles ?" 
 
 " I took as much as I could grasp or hold in my hand, 
 and I put it on the wooden roof, not quite like steps, but 
 one above another." 
 
 " And you found that the rain came in between every 
 bundle, did not you ?" 
 
 " I did indeed and I was very sorry ; after all my 
 pains, after I had thatched my house, the water came 
 in the first time there was a hard shower of rain." 
 
 "Yes, because you put the bundles of straw the
 
 132 FRANK. 
 
 wrong way. You see the thatcher does not lay hand- 
 fuls of straw in steps, one above the other, as you did ; 
 but he begins at the eaves of the roof near the wall, just 
 at one end of the house, and he lays several bundles one 
 beside the other." 
 
 " I understand you," said Frank. " I put them one 
 above the other, fike the steps of the ladder; he puts 
 them beside each other, like the sides of the ladder." 
 
 " He fastens them down with bent twigs, which he 
 calls scollops" said Frank's father. " Or else, look, here 
 is another way he fastens the straw down with a rope 
 made of straw, with which he actually sews the thatch 
 down to the roof with his long iron rod, which you see 
 he uses like a needle." 
 
 " But, papa, you said that he begins at the eaves of the 
 house what is the eaves ?" 
 
 " The eaves are that part of a roof that is nearest the 
 wall. They are the lowest part of the roof, and the 
 thatch hangs over the wall, to carry off the rain without 
 its touching the wall. Here is a scollop. You see it is 
 sharpened at both ends, that it may stick in the roof. 
 Observe the thatcher. He is going to put on the sec- 
 ond row of thatch above the first.'' 
 
 " Yes ; I see that the lower part of the bundle that 
 he is now putting on, is put over the upper part of the 
 bundles below it." 
 
 ' Why does he do so ?" 
 
 ' I do not know." 
 
 ' Think a little, Frank." 
 
 ' I do think, papa but I cannot find it out." 
 
 ' The rain would fall between the bottom of the row 
 which he is now putting on and the first row, if the bot- 
 tom of the second did not lap over the top of the first : 
 and the rain would run in at the holes made by the 
 scollops if they were not covered by the second row of 
 thatch." 
 
 WHEN Frank had seen and heard all that his father 
 showed and told him about thatching, he went down the 
 ladder as carefully as he had gone up it. As he passed 
 through the farmyard with his father and mother, he 
 stopped to look at some pretty hens and chickens that 
 were picking up oats. While Frank was looking at 
 them, a large turkeycock came strutting up to him,
 
 FRANK. 133 
 
 making a great noise, spreading its black wings, stretch- 
 ing out its blue and red throat, and looking ready to fly 
 at him. Frank started back, and had a great wish to 
 run away ; but his father, putting a stick into his hand, 
 said 
 
 " Frank, stand steady, my boy ; drive him away with 
 this stick. That's right ; drive him away." 
 
 The turkeycock began to run away, turning back 
 from time to time, and making a terrible noise; but 
 Frank pursued him, threatening him with the stick ; and 
 as fast as Frank came up to him, the turkeycock gob- 
 bled and ran away. 
 
 " Well done, Frank ; you have fairly driven him 
 away," said his father, shaking hands with him. " You 
 see you can conquer him, and that he has not hurt you ; 
 now, the next time a turkeycock attacks you, if you 
 have a stick in your hand, you need not to be afraid." 
 
 " My dear Frank," said his mother, " I am glad to see 
 you are become so much stouter than you were. When 
 you were a very little boy, and not near so strong as 
 you are now, I remember we had a turkeycock in the 
 yard which one day frightened you; and your father 
 ordered that it should be sent away, that it might not 
 frighten you again, for you were not then able to defend 
 yourself." 
 
 " But I am now older, and am able to defend myself," 
 cried Frank ; " and willing, too, mamma." 
 
 Frank marched on in triumph before his mother, 
 and passed by the door of the chicken-yard, looking 
 proudly at the turkeycock, which dared not come out. 
 Frank amused himself, during a great part of the way 
 home, in imitating the strut and noise of that animal ; 
 and he frequently turned to his mother, asking her if 
 this was not very like ; and this still more like : and 
 begging her to shut her eyes and listen, and tell whether 
 she could know his gobble from that of the real turkey- 
 cock. 
 
 Frank was tired at last of doing this, and his mother 
 was tired of listening to him. 
 
 " Now, mamma, I have done being a turkeycock." 
 
 " Very well, my dear, I am glad of it. Let this wo- 
 man, who seems to be in a hurry, pass by you, Frank," 
 said his mother. 
 
 Frank looked behind him, and he saw a woman with 
 a milkpail on her head, and another under her arm. 
 12
 
 134 PRANK. 
 
 He made way for her, and when she had passed he 
 said 
 
 " Mamma, that is the very same woman who was 
 milking the cow in the farmyard, and who said to me, 
 ' Master ! master ! don't go up the ladder, or you will 
 fall and break your pretty little legs.' Mamma, was not 
 she foolish to be so much frightened 1 I wonder how 
 anybody can be afraid to go up a ladder. What a cow- 
 ard she must be, poor woman !" 
 
 As Frank was saying this, they came to the narrow 
 bridge ; and, to Frank's surprise, he saw this woman 
 run, without any appearance of fear, across the plank. 
 
 " With one pail on her head, and the other pail under 
 her arm, too !" cried Frank, stopping short and looking 
 at her with astonishment. 
 
 " Mamma, can that be the same woman ? Then she 
 cannot be a coward ! Not a coward about going over 
 narrow bridges, but she is a coward about going up a 
 ladder, mamma." 
 
 " She is accustomed to go over this bridge, and she 
 finds that she can do so without being hurt ; and you, 
 Frank, have been accustomed to go up a ladder without 
 being hurt." 
 
 " Yes, the ladder in papa's study I go up and down 
 very often every day. The first time I went up it I 
 was a little afraid ; and I remember clinging fast, and 
 going very slowly. I see, mamma, that people learn 
 not to be afraid of what they are accustomed to ; and I 
 believe people can teach themselves not to be afraid." 
 
 As Frank finished speaking, he walked boldly over 
 that bridge on which, but a short time before, he had 
 scarcely dared to put his foot that bridge which he 
 had thought it impossible to cross. 
 
 FRANK'S father was very careful always to keep his 
 promises. He remembered that he had promised Frank 
 that whenever the brewer came, he would let Frank see 
 how beer was brewed. The brewer was now going 
 to brew, and Frank's father called Frank, and took him 
 into the brewhouse. 
 
 " What a very large vessel that is, papa !" said Frank, 
 pointing to a vessel which he saw in the brewhouse. 
 
 " It is large compared with that which you have seen
 
 FRANK. 135 
 
 the cook use for boiling meat ; but it is small compared 
 with the brewing-pan, or boiler, used in a public brew- 
 ery, where a great quantity of beer is brewed for num- 
 bers of people. We brew only the quantity that we 
 want to drink ourselves." 
 
 "What is in the boiler, papa 1" 
 
 " Water. Look at this large wooden vessel ; this 
 is called a vat. Into this the malt is put, and the water 
 that is boiled in the boiler is poured into the vat, and 
 mixed with the malt; and after some other manage- 
 ment, it becomes a liquid called wort. This is all you 
 can see to-day." 
 
 The next day his father called Frank again, and took 
 him into the brewhouse, and showed him the wort, and 
 bid him taste it : he tasted it, and found it sweet ; but it 
 had not the taste of beer, though it had something of 
 the colour of muddy beer. His father told him that 
 hops must be mixed with the wort before it could taste 
 like beer. He showed Frank the hops, and Frank 
 tasted them, and found that they had a bitter taste. 
 
 " And is this all that is done to make beer, papa ?" 
 
 " Not all the wort, after the hops have been boiled 
 in it, must be set to work, or ferment ; and after it has 
 fermented for some time, it becomes beer." 
 
 " What is to ferment T" said Frank. 
 . " I cannot explain it to you," answered his father. 
 " But you shah 1 see this wort when it is fermenting." 
 
 Then Frank's father desired the brewer would send 
 and let him know as soon as the beer should begin to 
 ferment. The brewer did so some time afterward, and 
 Frank went to look at it. It was not now in the brew- 
 house. 
 
 " You see, Frank," said his father, " that the liquor 
 in these vessels is not like what you saw in the brew- 
 house. It is, however, the same liquor ; but it is now 
 in a state of fermentation." 
 
 " It looks, indeed, quite different," said Frank ; " that 
 liquor was of a dull brown colour, and quite smooth on 
 the surface ; this is all frothy, and a muddy yellow and 
 white colour. It is full of bubbles ; some rising from 
 below the surface, and others bursting." 
 
 "That froth is called yest, or barm, and it is by 
 means of this yest or barm that bread is made spongy 
 and light. Bread made without barm is heavy, like un- 
 baked paste."
 
 136 FRANK. 
 
 " Papa, how is the beer made to work, or ferment, as 
 it is called t" 
 
 " Some yest, that was got from other beer that was 
 fermenting, was put into this beer; and that set it a 
 working, as it is called." 
 
 " How does it set it a working, papa !" 
 
 " I do not know," answered his father. 
 
 " How did they get yest for the first beer that was 
 made to ferment 1" 
 
 " I do not know," answered his father. 
 
 "Why, papa, I thought you knew every thing. 'Vsfam 
 
 " Indeed, my dear, 1 know very little : and I never 
 pretend to know more than I do. The older people 
 grow, and the wiser they become, the more they feel 
 that they are ignorant of a number of things. Then 
 they become the more desirous to learn ; and the more 
 they learn, the more pleasure they feel in acquiring fresh 
 knowledge." 
 
 AFTER he had seen and heard all that his father could 
 show or tell him about the fermentation of beer, Frank 
 went to read to his mother, as he usually did at this 
 hour every morning. 
 
 " You have just been seeing how beer is made, Frank," 
 said she ; " now, should you like to know how cider is 
 made ?" 
 
 " Very much, mamma." 
 
 " Here is a book in which you can find an account of 
 it." 
 
 She put into his hand the first volume of Sandford 
 and Merton, open at the place which gives an account 
 of Harry and Tommy's visit to the farmhouse, where 
 they saw a room full of apples, and where the farmer's 
 wife described the manner in which she made cider of 
 apple-juice. 
 
 Frank read all this to his mother, and it entertained 
 him so much that, when he had finished it, he asked his 
 mother to let him read some more of that book. 
 
 His mother said that she was afraid he was not yet 
 able to understand all of it ; and that she advised him 
 to keep the pleasure of reading it till he should be able 
 quite to understand it. 
 
 " mamma! here is a story of two dogs, Jowler and
 
 FRANK. 137 
 
 Keeper mamma ! just let me look at that, and a story 
 of the good-natured boy and the ill-natured boy I am sure 
 I can understand that, mamma; and the story of the 
 gentleman and the basket-maker, and Androcles and the 
 lion : I will begin at the beginning, mamma, if you 
 please ; and, if I find that I do not understand it, 1 will 
 put it up again in your bookcase, and keep the pleasure, 
 as you say, till I am able quite to understand it." 
 
 Upon this condition Frank's mother gave him leave 
 to read Sandford and Merton. He sat down immediately 
 on the carpet, and he read eagerly for some time, till he 
 came to a long dialogue, and then he yawned his 
 mother sent him out to work in his garden. She would 
 not allow him to read much at a time, because she 
 wished to prevent him from being tired of reading. He 
 had the pleasure of reading a little of Sandford and 
 Me'rton every day. He found that he understood a great 
 deal of it ; and his mother told him he might pass some 
 parts : " You will read that book over again, I am sure, 
 some time hence ; and then you will be able to under- 
 stand it all, and then you may read the parts which you 
 now miss." 
 
 Frank was particularly delighted with the account of 
 the house which Harry and Tommy built. And as soon 
 as Frank got over the difficulty of the hard name Spitz- 
 bergen, he liked the account of " the extraordinary ad- 
 ventures of the four Russian sailors, who were cast 
 away on the desert island of East Sp*itzbergen." 
 
 " Mamma, I like this, because it is true," said Frank 
 " mamma, I like books that tell me true things, and 
 that teach me something." 
 
 ONE morning, when Frank was going to put on his 
 shoes, he found that there was a hole in the side of one 
 of them ; so he put on another pair ; and he ran with the 
 shoe that had the hole in it to his mother, and asked 
 her to have it mended for him. She said that she 
 would send it to the shoemaker's. 
 
 " Mamma," continued Frank, " I should like to go to 
 the shoemaker's ; I should like to see how he mends 
 my shoe, and how he makes new shoes. I understand 
 something about it, from having seen that print of the 
 shoemaker in the Book of Trades, and from having
 
 138 PRANK. 
 
 read the description ; but I think I should understand 
 it much better if I were to see a real shoemaker at 
 work." 
 
 " I think you would, my dear ; and when I have leis- 
 ure I will take you to see a shoemaker at work." 
 
 " Thank you, good mamma ! And I should like to see 
 every thing done that is shown in the prints of that 
 book," continued Frank. He ran for the book, and, 
 turning over the leaves, " I should like, mamma, to see 
 the trunkmaker, the wheelwright, the turner, the rope- 
 maker, the papermaker, the bookbinder, the brasier, the 
 buttonmaker, the saddler, the glassblower, and oh, 
 mamma ! the printer, and " 
 
 " Stop, stop, my dear Frank ! I cannot show you all 
 these ; but, if you are not troublesome, I will show you 
 any which you can understand, whenever I have an op- 
 portunity, and when I have time. You know that I 
 have a great many things to do, and cannot always 
 attend to you, my little Frank." 
 
 " I know that, mamma but you have time, have not 
 you, to take me to the shoemaker's to-day V 
 
 " Not to-day, my dear." 
 
 " But, mamma, will you tell me how paper is made ?" 
 
 " Not now, my dear." 
 
 " Well, mamma, I will tell you how I intend to man- 
 age about my arbour." 
 
 " Not at present, my dear. Do not talk to me any 
 more now I am going to write a letter." 
 
 Frank went away, and employed himself, that he 
 might not be troublesome, and that he might make him- 
 self happy. 
 
 The next day his mother took him to the shoemaker's : 
 he saw him at work he saw the awl with which the 
 shoemaker makes holes in the sole of the shoe and in 
 the leather, through which holes he puts the waxed 
 thread with which he sews them together he saw that, 
 instead of using needles, the shoemaker used hogs' bris- 
 tles, which he fastened to the waxed thread with which 
 he worked : so that the bristles served him as needles. 
 He put the two ends of the thread in at opposite sides 
 of the holes, and then drew the thread tight, by pulling 
 each end at one and the same time ; and in doing this 
 he pushed out his elbows, and made an odd jerking mo- 
 tion, which diverted Frank very much. 
 
 " Now I know the reason," said Frank, " why, in the
 
 FRANK. 139 
 
 song which papa sings about the cobbler, it says that 
 he wanted elbowroom 
 
 . ; ...if,' '<},[ ..','. 'S.'l'J hf!' 1 !" * *'' ' ! 
 
 " ' There was a cobbler who lived in the coomb, 
 And all that he wanted was dbowroom.' ?' 
 
 Frank saw in the shoemaker's shop large pieces of 
 leather of different colours, black, white, red, blue, green, 
 and purple. He asked leave to look at these ; and one 
 of the men in the shop, who was not bsy, took <jut of a 
 drawer some skins, as he called them, and spread them 
 on the counter before Frank, who touched, and smelt, 
 and looked at them for some minutes, and then said 
 
 " I know that leather is the skin of animals of horses, 
 and dogs, and calves, and of some kind of goats, and 
 of of I forget the name seals." 
 
 "Why, master!" said the shoemaker, looking up from 
 his work, " many a little master of your age for whom 
 I make shoes does not know so m^ch you are a very 
 clever little gentleman." 
 
 Frank coloured, and was ashamed ; for he recollected 
 the flattering lady, and he thought the shoemaker was 
 flattering and laughing at him. He turned away, and 
 said to the man who had showed him the skins 
 
 " Tell me, will yaw, how the skins of horses, and dogs, 
 and goats, are made to look like this leather which I see 
 before me ? I know pretty well how the hair of the 
 horses, and dogs, and calves, is got off, because I read 
 an account of that in my Book of Trades. I know the 
 currier, with a long knife with two handles, scrapes it 
 off but I don't know, and I wish you would tell me, 
 how you turn the skin into leather, and how you give it 
 such beautiful colours." 
 
 " Master, I cannot tell you that it is not our trade ; 
 that is the business of the tanner and the leather-dres- 
 ser. I buy the leather from them just as you see it. 
 Please to sit down, master, that I may measure you for 
 a pair of shoes." 
 
 Frank, finding that the shoemaker's man could not 
 tell him any thing about tanning or dying, contented 
 himself with observing the manner in which this man 
 took measure of his foot. Frank looked at the stick or 
 ruler which the shoemakei used. It was made to fold 
 up and open, something like a carpenter's common 
 ruler ; but there was hinged at one end of it a bit of 
 brass, about two inches long; and this was hinged so
 
 140 FRANK. 
 
 that it could be made to stand up or shut down, as yon 
 please. This piece of brass the shoemaker turned up 
 and put behind Frank's heel when he began to measure 
 his foot, and he laid the ruler under the sole of Frank's 
 foot. There was another piece of brass hinged in the 
 same manner, which could be slid backwards and for- 
 wards upon the ruler : the shoemaker pushed this up to 
 the end of Frank's foot, and then looked at the divisions 
 which were marked upon the ruler ; and he saw the 
 distance between the brass at the heel and the brass at 
 the toe ; and he knew what size Frank's shoe ought to 
 be as to length. The breadth he measured by spanning 
 the foot ; that is, by putting his fingers round it in dif- 
 ferent places. 
 
 When the shoemaker had finished taking measure, lie 
 shut up his measuring-stick. Frank asked leave to look 
 at it once more, because he had not observed exactly 
 how it was fastened when shut. The shoemaker put 
 it again into his hands ; and he saw how one part of the 
 brass notched into the other, so as to fasten both the 
 parts of the ruler together when shut. 
 
 The shoemaker. then showed Frank some other things 
 which he wished to see in his shop. He showed him a 
 bootjack for drawing boots off; and a wooden leg, which 
 is put into boots to stretch them ; and he showed him 
 the lasts or moulds on which shoes are made. 
 
 Wherever Frank went, people were generally ready 
 to answer his questions, and to show him what he want- 
 ed to see, because he took care not to be troublesome, 
 and he did not ask foolish questions. He sometimes 
 found, however, that people could not spare time to 
 show him things ; and he often found that he could not 
 understand their manner of explaining. 
 
 SOME days after Frank had been at the shoemaker's, 
 as he was walking out in the evening with his father and 
 mother, he heard a dog barking at a distance. 
 
 " How far off, mamma, do you think that dog is 1" 
 said Frank. 
 
 " About a quarter of a mile, J should guess. I fancy 
 it is White the tanner's dog." 
 
 "The tanner ! Mamma, I wish he had not that bark- 
 ing dog."
 
 FRANK. 1 4| 
 
 " That barking dog is very useful to the tanner, and 
 he will not do you any harm. That dog is always 
 chained up in the daytime ; he is let loose only at night, 
 when he guards his master's property, and prevents any 
 one from stealing the leather which the tanner leaves in 
 his tanpits." 
 
 " Then, mamma, if the dog is chained up and cannot 
 do me any harm, I wish you would be so good as to take 
 me to see the tanner and the tanpits you know the 
 shoemaker told me that the tanner tans leather. Mam- 
 ma, will you go 1 Papa, will you go to the tanner's ?" 
 
 " Yes, Frank, we will go with you," said his father 
 " I am glad to see that you are so desirous to acquire 
 knowledge." 
 
 They walked across two or three fields towards the 
 tanner's house ; and when they came near it, the bark- 
 ing of the dog was heard very loud. But at the same 
 time that Frank heard his loud barking, he also heard 
 the rattling of the dog's chain; and he knew, therefore, 
 that he was chained up, and could not do him any mis- 
 chief. His father told Frank to take care, as he passed 
 by this fierce dog, not to go within his reach not to go 
 within the length of his chain. Frank took care, and 
 walked at a prudent distance. The tanner came out 
 and silenced his dog, and then Frank could hear and at- 
 tend to what was said. 
 
 But, though he attended, he did not understand aH that 
 the tanner said ; for the man spoke in a tone different 
 from what Frank had been accustomed to hear. 
 
 " Here bees my tanpits, master, if that bees what you're 
 axing fcm And all that is, as I knows about it, you see, 
 master, is this ; that I puts tke skins into one of these 
 here pits, first-and-foremost, to deanse it of the air, 
 like ; and then I stretches it upon a horse, you see, and 
 I scrapes off the hair." 
 
 " And does the horse stand still," sard Frank, " While 
 you are doing that V 
 
 " O bless you ! master, it's a wooden horse I be think- 
 ing of." 
 
 " O ! I understand! But what is in this pit ?" 
 
 " First-and-foremost, I puts it into this pit," said the 
 tanner. 
 
 " First, he puts it into this pit," said Frank's father, 
 observing that Frank did not know what the man meant
 
 142 FRANK. 
 
 by first-and-foremost, which he pronounced very quickly 
 and like one word. 
 
 " Master, there is what we call lime-water ; and then I 
 puts it into stronger lime-water, to soak again ; and then 
 I takes it out, and hangs it to dry, and then again soaks 
 it ; and so on till it is fit for the tanpit here," said the 
 tanner, pointing to a pit. 
 
 " And what is in this pit V said Frank. 
 
 " The bark, master nothing in life, master, but the 
 bark and water." 
 
 " The bark," said Frank ; " what do you mean by the 
 bark ?" 
 
 " I means the bark that is ground and thrown into this 
 here pit with water." 
 
 Frank looked to his father for explanation ; and his 
 father told him that the bark of which the tanner spoke 
 was the bark of oak trees. 
 
 " This bark," continued his father, " contains some- 
 thing called tannin, which, after a length of time, gets 
 into the pores or openings in the leather, and makes it 
 hard. And after that, when the leather is dry, it does 
 not let water easily pass through it; and then it is use- 
 ful for making shoes, and boots, and harness, and for 
 covering trunks, and various other purposes." 
 
 "But what is that something called tannin, papa !" 
 said Frank. 
 
 " I do not know," said his father. " But I know that 
 it has a particular taste, which is called astringent ; and 
 that it makes leather hard, and fit to keep out water. 
 Dip your finger into that pit where you see the bark and 
 water, and taste the liquor, and then you will know 
 what is meant by an astringent taste." 
 
 Frank dipped his finger into the tanpit, and tasted the 
 bark and water ; and he understood what was meant by 
 an astringent taste. 
 
 " Is this all that you can tell me, papa?" 
 
 " All that I can tell you at present, my dear. When 
 you are able to understand it, you can read more on this 
 subject in Conversations on Chymistry."* 
 
 " But I do not see here any of the red or green-col- 
 oured, smooth, shining leathers which I saw at the 
 shoemaker's." 
 
 44 No, they are made at a common tanner's. They 
 
 * Volume ii., page 186, the third editicax.
 
 PRANK. 143 
 
 are coloured, and made smooth and shining, as you savr 
 them, at the leather-dresser's;" ; ;i 
 
 Frank's next wish was to go to a leather-dresser's ; 
 and to learn how the leather was made of these beauti* 
 ful colours. The tanner said that he always sent his 
 leather, as soon as it was tanned, to a leather-dresser, 
 who lived in a town at twenty miles' distance from him, 
 and from the place where Frank's father and mother 
 lived. '. ../;;: I 
 
 They could not take him to the leather-dresser's con- 
 veniently. In a book, a sort of dictionary, which his 
 father lent him, Frank afterward looked for an account 
 of the manner in which leather is died. He found that 
 he could not understand it, so he turned his attention to. 
 something else which he could understand* 
 
 THE next day he passed by a nailer's forge, and he' 
 asked his father to take him in, and to let him see how 
 nails were made. In the course of a few weeks after- 
 ward, he saw several other things which entertained 
 him. 
 
 Last year, when he had seen the sheepshearing, and 
 had been told that the wool cut from the back of the sheep 
 could be made into cloth for a coat, such as that which 
 he wore, he had been curious to know how this could 
 be done. His mother showed him how the wool is spun 
 into woollen yarn ; and this year, when he was able to 
 understand it, his father showed him a loom, and ex- 
 plained to him the parts of the machine, and showed 
 him how woollen yarn is woven into cloth by means of 
 a loom. i 
 
 This summer Frank saw several other things about 
 which he had been curious. His father showed him 
 how books are printed in a printing-press. And, some 
 time afterward, he took Frank to a glasshouse, and let 
 him see men making several things bottles, decanters, 
 tumblers he saw them pull the glass when it is hot 
 and soft into various shapes ; and blow air into it, and 
 blow it out into any forms they pleased. This enter- 
 tained him exceedingly. 
 
 But whenever Frank saw any thing that entertained 
 him much, he always wished that he had his brother 
 Edward, or his cousin William, or his cousin Frederick,
 
 144 FRANK. 
 
 er Charles, to tell it to. They were gone home, and hi 
 brother was gone to school ; and Frank wished that he 
 had some companion of nearly his own age to talk and 
 play with. 
 
 i 
 
 FRANK had a little consin Mary ; and about this time 
 little Mary, who was between five and six years old, 
 was brought to his mother's house. Mary was dressed all 
 in black when Frank first saw her ; and she looked very 
 melancholy. Frank went to his father, who was stand- 
 ing in another part of the room ; and he whispered to 
 his father, and asked why Mary was dressed in black, 
 and why she looked so melancholy. His father an- 
 swered 
 
 " Because her mother is dad." * 
 
 " Poor girl !" said Frank. " If my mother was dead, 
 how sorry I shorcld be ! Poor little Mary I what will 
 she do without a mother !" 
 
 " Mary is to live with us." said his father ; " your 
 mother and I will take care of her, and teach her as well 
 as we can ; and you will be kind to her, will you not, 
 Frank V 
 
 " That I will, papa," said Frank. 
 
 He ran directly for those of his playthings which he 
 thought would please her the most, and he spread them 
 before her. She looked at them, and smiled a little : 
 but she soon put them down again, and did not seem to 
 be amused by them. Frank took her to his garden, and 
 gathered for her those of his flowers which he liked the 
 best ; but she did not seem to like them nearly as much 
 as he did, or as much as he had expected that she 
 would. She said 
 
 " Thank you ; but mamma had nicer flowers than 
 these at home. 1 wish I was with mamma I wish 
 mamma would come back again to me." 
 
 Frank knew that her mamma could not come back 
 again to her ; but he did not say so then to Mary. He 
 took her to look at the house which he was building ; 
 and he showed her the sticks which his papa had given 
 him for the roof, and he explained to her how he intend- 
 ed to roof it, and how he intended afterward to thatch 
 it ; he said that they two could work at it together, and 
 he asked her if she should like it.
 
 FRANK. 145 
 
 She said she believed that she should like it " by-and- 
 by, but not then." 
 
 He asked her what she meant by " by-and-by." 
 
 She said, " To-morrow, or some other day, but not 
 to-day." 
 
 To-morrow came ; and little Mary, after she had 
 slept all night, and after she had eaten some breakfast, 
 and after she had become better acquainted with all the 
 people in the house, who were strangers to her, began 
 to look more cheerful ; and, by degrees, she talked a 
 little more ; and presently she began to run about, and 
 to play with Frank. He played with her at whatever 
 she liked best ; he was her horse, for that was what 
 she asked him to be ; and he put a bridle of packthread 
 round his body, and let her drive him ; and he lent her 
 his best whip, with which he let her whip him on as 
 much as she pleased. 
 
 After Mary had been at Frank's home for a few days, 
 she began to call it her home ; and she called his mother 
 " mamma," and she seemed happy again. But Frank 
 could not at all times play with her; he had several 
 other things to do ; and, when he did play with her, he 
 did not choose always to play at the play which she 
 liked best. Sometimes, at night, she wanted him to 
 make a cat's cradle or a paper boat for her, when Frank 
 wished to read an entertaining book ; and sometimes 
 he wanted to work in his garden, or to go on roofing his 
 house, when she wished him to be her horse, or to roll 
 her in the wheelbarrow. Upon these occasions Mary 
 was sometimes a little cross, and Frank was sometimes 
 a little impatient. 
 
 Frank had now finished roofing his house, and he was 
 beginning to thatch it in the manner he saw the thatch- 
 er ; he wanted Mary to help him : he told her she must 
 wait upon him, as he had seen the labourer wait upon 
 the thatcher who thatched the barn. He said she should 
 be his straw-man ; and he showed her how to carry the 
 straw ; and he charged her always to be ready when he 
 cried out 
 
 " More straw ! more, man ! more !" 
 
 For a little while Mary served him well, and had the 
 straw ready when he called " More straw !" But she 
 was soon tired, and Frank called 
 
 " More straw ! more, man ! more !" several times 
 before she was ready. Frank grew angry, and he said 
 G
 
 146 FRANK, 
 
 she was slow, and awkward, and lazy ; and she said she 
 was hot and tired, and that she would not be his straw- 
 man any longer. Frank tried to convince her that she 
 was wrong ; and, to prove it to her, repeated what his 
 father had told him about the division of labour. 
 
 " You see," said he, ''I am forced to come down the 
 ladder every time I want straw ; I lose ray time, and I 
 cannot get on near so quickly as if you carried it to 
 me. When I go on doing one thing, and you doing 
 another, to be ready for me, you cannot think how well 
 and quickly we get on that is dividing the labour 
 the division of labour you understand T" 
 
 Mary did not understand. She said, " I do not know 
 any thing about that ; but I don't like to be your straw- 
 man any longer, and I will not." 
 
 Frank pushed her away, telling her she might go 
 wherever she pleased. She stood still and began to 
 cry. Then Frank was sorry he had been so angry 
 with her ; and she dried up her tears when he told her 
 so, and she said she would be his straw-man again if 
 he would not call " More straw ! more, man !" so very 
 fast ; and if he would not call her stupid or lazy. 
 
 To this Frank agreed ; and they went, on again for 
 some time, he thatching and she carrying straw, and 
 placing little bundles ready for him : and they were 
 very happy, he working quickly, and she helping him 
 nicely. 
 
 " How much happier is it not to quarrel I" said little 
 Mary. " But now I am really quite tired will you let 
 me rest?" 
 
 " Yes, and welcome !" said Frank, " though I am not 
 in the least tired." 
 
 He came down the ladder, and he went and looked 
 for some wood strawberries, and brought them to her, 
 and they ate them together very happily. 
 
 " I cut, and you choose that is fair, is not it, Mary!" 
 said Frank. 
 
 Whenever any pie or pudding, fruit, cake, or any thing 
 which they both liked to eat was given to them, Frank 
 was usually desired to divide it ; and this he did with 
 most accurate justice. When he had divided it as well 
 as he could, he always desired Mary .to choose which- 
 ever piece she liked for herseif : so that, if there was any 
 advantage, she might have it. This was being just ; 
 but, besides being just, Frank was generous. Every
 
 FRANK. 147 
 
 thing that was given to him to share with his little cousin 
 he always gave her a part, and often a larger or a better 
 part than that which he kept for himself. Nobody 
 knew this but Mary and himself; for he did not want 
 to be praised for it ; the pleasure he felt in doing it, and 
 the pleasure he saw that he gave her, was quite enough. 
 But though Frank was so good-natured to his little 
 cousin, yet he had faults. He was passionate; and 
 sometimes, when he was in a passion, he did what he 
 was afterward very sorry for. Till little Mary came to 
 his mother's, he had not been used to live with any one 
 who was younger and weaker than himself. 
 
 When he found that he was the strongest, he some- 
 times, in playing with little Mary, took advantage of his 
 strength, to make her do what he commanded her ; and 
 when he was impatient to get any thing from her, he now 
 and then snatched or forced it rudely from her hands. 
 One day she had a new ball, which she held between 
 both her hands, and she would not let Frank look at it ; 
 she was half in play, and, at first, Frank was playing 
 with her also ; but when she persisted in refusing to let 
 him see it, he grew angry, and he squeezed her hands, 
 and twisted her wrist with violence, to make her open 
 her hands. She being in great pain, roared out so 
 loudly that Frank's father, who was in the room over 
 that in which they were, came down to inquire what 
 was the matter. Mary stopped crying the moment he 
 appeared : Frank looked ashamed, but he went forward 
 to his father directly, and said 
 
 " It was I who hurt her, papa I squeezed her hands 
 to make her give me this ball." 
 
 " You have hurt her, indeed !" said his father, looking 
 at little Mary's wrist, which was very red, and was 
 beginning to swell. " O Frank !" continued his father, 
 44 1 thought you would use your strength to help, and 
 not to hurt those who are weaker than yourself." 
 
 " So I do always papa, except when she puts me in 
 a passion." 
 
 " But the ball was my own ball," said Mary ; " and you 
 had no right to take it from me." 
 
 " I did not want to take it from you, Mary ; I only 
 wanted to look at it ; and you began first to be cross- 
 you were very cross." 
 
 ** No, Frank, you were the crossest," 
 , "You are both cross now, I think," said Frank's 
 G 2
 
 148 FRANK. 
 
 father; "and since you cannot agree when yon are 
 together, you must be separated." 
 
 Then he sent them into different rooms, and they 
 were not allowed to play together during the remainder 
 of that day. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast, Frank's father asked 
 
 them whether they had been as happy yesterday as they 
 
 usually had been ; and they both answered no. Then 
 
 he asked, 
 
 .. " Do you like better to be together or to be separate ?" 
 
 " We like a great deal better to be together," said 
 Frank and Mary. 
 
 " Then, my dear children, take care and do not quar- 
 rel," said Frank's father ; " for, whenever you quarrel, 
 without asking any questions about who was cross, or 
 crosser, or crossest, or who began first, I shall end your 
 dispute at once by separating you. You, Frank, under- 
 stand the nature and use of punishment ; you know n 
 
 " Yes, papa, I know," interrupted Frank, " that it is 
 it is pain. Papa, will you explain it ; for, though I 
 know it, I cannot say it in good words." 
 
 " Try to explain it in any words." 
 
 " When you punish me, papa, you give me pain, or 
 you take something from me which I like to have, or 
 you hinder me from having something that I like, or 
 from doing something that I like to do" 
 
 " Well, go on ; when and for what reason do I give 
 you pain, or prevent you from having pleasure 1" 
 
 " When I have done something wrong, and because I 
 have done something wrong." 
 
 " And do I give you this pain of punishment because 
 I like to give you pain, or for what purpose ]" 
 
 " Not because you like to give me pain, I am sure, 
 papa ; but to cure me of my faults to hinder me from 
 doing wrong again." 
 
 " And how will punishment cure you of your faults, 
 or prevent you from doing wrong again ?" 
 
 " You know, papa, I should be afraid to have the same 
 punishment again if I were to do the same wrong thing; 
 and the pain and the shame of the punishment make me 
 remember. I remember them a great while : and the 
 punishment comes into my head, that is, I think of it 
 again, whenever I think of the wrong thing for which I 
 was punished ; and if I was tempted to do that same
 
 FRANK. 149 
 
 thing again, just at the very time 1 should recollect the 
 punishment, and I should not do it. I believe " 
 
 " Then, according to your description of it, just pun- 
 ishment is pain given to a person who has done what is 
 wrong, to prevent that person from doing wrong again." 
 
 " Yes, papa ; that is what I wanted to say." 
 
 " And is there no other use in punishments, do you 
 think, Frank?" 
 
 " O yes, papa ! to prevent other people from doing 
 wrong : because they see the person who has done 
 wrong is punished ; and if they are sure that they shall 
 have the same punishment if they do the same thing, 
 they take care not to do it. I heard John, the garden- 
 er's son, saying yesterday to his brother, that the boy who 
 robbed his garden last week was taken and had been 
 whipped ; and that this would be a fine example for all 
 the children in the village, and would hinder them from 
 doing the same thing again." 
 
 " Then just punishment is pain given to those who do 
 wrong, to prevent them from doing that wrong again ; 
 and to prevent others from doing wrong." 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Frank ; " but, papa, why do you 
 tell me all this ? Why do you ask me these things ?" 
 
 " Because, my dear, now that you are becoming a 
 reasonable creature, and that you can understand me, I 
 wish as much as possible to explain to you the reasons 
 for all I do in educating you. Brutes, who have no 
 sense, are governed by blows ; but human creatures, 
 who can think and reason, can be governed, and can 
 govern themselves, by considering what is right, and 
 what makes them happy. I do not treat you as a brute, 
 but as a reasonable creature ; and on every occasion I 
 endeavour to explain to you what is right and wrong, 
 and what is just and unjust." 
 
 " Thank you, papa," said Frank. " I wish to be 
 treated like a reasonable creature. Papa, may I say 
 one thing 1" 
 
 " As many things as you please, my dear." 
 
 " But, papa, this one thing is about you ; and perhaps 
 you will not like it. Papa, I do not think it is just to 
 separate Mary and me whenever we quarrel, without 
 examining or inquiring which is in the wrong." 
 
 "When people quarrel, they generally are bo thin the 
 wrong." 
 
 " But not always, papa ; and one is often more in the
 
 150 FRANK. 
 
 wrong than the other ; and it is not just that the one 
 who is least in the wrong should be punished as much 
 as the person who did most wrong." 
 
 Here Frank paused, and the tears came into his eyes; 
 and, after a little struggle within himself, he added 
 
 " Now it is all over, papa, I must tell you that I was 
 most to blame. I was the most in the wrong in that 
 quarrel which little Mary and I had yesterday. It was 
 I hurt her, by squeezing her hand violently, and she 
 only cried out ; and yet she was punished as much as I 
 was." 
 
 " My dear, honest, just, generous boy !" said his 
 father, putting his hand upon Frank's head, " act al- 
 ways, feel always, as you now do ; and when you have 
 been wrong, always have candour and courage enough 
 to acknowledge it." 
 
 Little Mary, who had gone away to her playthings 
 while they had been talking of what she did not under- 
 stand, left her playthings and came back, and stood be- 
 side Frank, looking up in his face, and listening eagerly, 
 when he said that he had been most to blame in their 
 quarrel. And when his father praised him, Mary 
 smiled, and her eyes sparkled with pleasure. After his 
 father had done speaking, she said 
 
 " Frank is very good to tell that he was the most wrong ; 
 but I was a little wrong I cried more than I should have 
 done, and a great deal louder, because I was angry." 
 
 " There is a good girl !" said Frank's father, stroking 
 her head. " Now that is all over, let us think of the 
 future. You say, Frank, that you do not think it just 
 that you should be separated when you quarrel, because 
 that separation is the same punishment for both, when 
 perhaps only one is to blame, or one much more to 
 blame than the other. Do I understand youl Do I 
 state clearly what you mean V 
 
 " Yes, papa pretty well not quite. I think the sep- 
 arating us is just enough, because, as you say, when we 
 quarrel, we generally are both to blame, more or less ; 
 and besides, when we are angry, we cannot have any 
 pleasure in being together. So I give up that. But I 
 think that before you separate us, you or mamma should 
 always inquire and find out which of us is most to blame, 
 and exactly how much ; and then the person who has 
 been most wrong will have the most shame ; and that 
 will make the punishment just as it should be." t
 
 PRANK. 151 
 
 " Well argued, my boy ! This would be strictly just 
 as far as you two are concerned ; but you must consid- 
 er also what is just for your mother and for me." 
 
 " What do you mean, papa? I do not want to pun- 
 ish mamma or you you do not quarrel," said Frank, 
 laughing. " I do not wish to separate you, or to pun- 
 ish mamma or you, papa. I do not understand you." 
 
 " Listen to me, and perhaps I shall make you under- 
 stand me. You say you do not want to punish me or 
 your mother; and yet you would punish us both when- 
 ever you quarrelled, if we were obliged to give up our 
 time, and to leave whatever we were doing that was 
 agreeable to us, in order to settle which of you two 
 were most to blame in a dispute, perhaps, about a straw, 
 or something of as little value. Now suppose you two 
 were to quarrel every hour " 
 
 " O sir !" interrupted little Mary, " quarrel every hour ! 
 Oh ! Oh ! that is quite impossible." 
 
 " But my father only says suppose we can suppose 
 any thing, you know," said Frank. "Well, suppose, 
 papa " 
 
 " And suppose, Frank, that every hour it would re- 
 quire a quarter of an hour of your mother's time or 
 mine to listen to both, and settle which was to blame " 
 
 " A quarter of an hour ! that is a great deal too much 
 time to allow." 
 
 " We have been talking now, Frank, above a quarter 
 of an hour, I think." 
 
 " Indeed ! I never should have guessed that !" 
 
 " Should not you ? When people are much interested 
 about any thing, they talk on a great while without con- 
 sidering how time passes." 
 
 " That is true. Well, allow a quarter of an hour each 
 quarrel, and one every hour," said Frank. 
 
 "And count twelve hours as a day then twelve 
 
 quarters of an hour, Mary, how many whole hours will 
 
 that make ?" - -j 
 
 Mary answered, after thinking a little while, " I don't 
 
 know." 
 
 Frank answered " Three hours." 
 " So three whole hours, Frank, your mother or I 
 must, according to your plan, give up every day to set- 
 tle your quarrels." 
 
 " That would be too much, really !" said Frank. " But 
 this is only arguing upon your suppose, papa."
 
 152 PRANK. 
 
 " Well, state that you quarrel only once a day ; tell 
 me why your mother or 1 should be punished by taking 
 up our time disagreeably in settling your little disputes, 
 provided any other manner of settling them would suc- 
 ceed as well. Be just to us, Frank, as well as to your- 
 self and to Mary." 
 
 " I will, papa I will be just to you ; I acknowledge 
 we should not take up your time disagreeably in settling 
 our disputes, if they could be settled as well any other 
 way ; but all depends upon that if you will acknowl- 
 edge that, father 1" 
 
 " I do acknowledge it, Frank. This question can be 
 decided, then, only by experience by trying whether 
 the fact is so or not. Let us try my way, if you please, 
 for one month ; and afterward, if mine does not succeed, 
 I will try yours " 
 
 ,7.' " 
 ; ir. to
 
 
 PREFACE TO PARENTS. 
 
 " Now look on him, whose very voice, in tone, 
 Just echoes thine ; whose features are thine ovm ; 
 And stroke his polished cheek of purest red, 
 And lay thine hand upon his flaxen head, 
 And say, ' My boy, th' unwelcome hour is come, 
 When thou, transplanted from thy genial home, 
 Must find a colder soil and bleaker air, 
 And trust for safety to a stranger's care.' 
 Thou wouldst not, deaf to nature's tenderest plea, 
 Turn him adrift upon a rolling sea , 
 Nor say, Go hither ! conscious that there lay 
 A brood of asps or quicksands in his way. 
 Then, only governed by the selfsame rule 
 Of natural pity, send him not to school." 
 
 How these lines must strike any affectionate parent 
 who is going to send a boy to school ! Yet, when the 
 first effect of the flash and stroke of eloquence passes 
 away, as the mind subsides to calm, we question whether 
 the danger be real or imaginary. The common reflec- 
 tion, that most of the great men of England have been 
 educated at public schools, recurs to the father and 
 mother, or is suggested to them by some friend of the 
 family, who has himself been brought up in one of our 
 great seminaries. They listen, and are persuaded, if 
 not convinced ; for those who are most readily alarmed 
 by eloquence are most easily relieved by assertion : 
 ashamed of having been moved too far in the moment 
 of alarm, they go directly to the contrary extreme of 
 rash security. They laugh at the poetic peril of asps 
 and quicksands, neglect to examine into the nature of 
 the real danger, and dismiss at once all fear of the simile, 
 and all care for the truth. 
 
 It is to be desired that, on a subject of so much im- 
 portance to their children and themselves, parents might 
 feel something more than the evanescent effect of elo- 
 quence, and might be excited to a serious examination 
 of the facts. But even those who do not content them- 
 selves with a mere dramatic start, or sentimental excla- 
 mation, and who are seriously aware of the danger, 
 imagine that the evils, if not necessary, are unavoidable. 
 G3
 
 154 TO PARENTS. 
 
 It must be sufficiently obvious, even to the most zealous 
 friends of private education, that from various circum- 
 stances of inexpediency and impossibility, vast numbers 
 of children cannot be bred up at home ; they MUST go to 
 school, and to some of the seminaries which exist. 
 
 When it comes to the usual age for sending the boy 
 from home, this sense of necessity presses upon the 
 father and mother : they think that all they can do is to 
 choose for their son the school of which they hear the 
 best character ; they know all have their faults ; they 
 are sorry for it, but they cannot help it ; whatever these 
 faults may be, the individual parent cannot rectify them 
 at the moment his boy is to go to school; and because 
 they cannot do every thing, they are content to do noth- 
 ing. They submit with indolent resignation to the plea 
 of necessity, consoling themselves with the sophisms 
 of commonplace philosophy. 
 
 They tell you, or they tell themselves, that if the 
 power of new modelling our institutions were put into 
 the hands of any of those who wish for their reform, 
 they might not be able to satisfy themselves or others 
 in the execution of new plans : that in the hurry and 
 zeal of innovation, they might run from evils that we 
 know to those we know not of. These considerations, 
 obvious as they are, may afford some comfort under 
 the impossibility of sudden change, and may reconcile 
 us to the slow operations of time and truth, acting as 
 they do irresistibly together. Though it cannot be 
 hoped that by any combination of opinion and effort a 
 perfect school, such as anxious parents would desire, 
 can, in ou* days, or perhaps ever, be realized, yet con- 
 tinual advances towards excellence may be made. 
 
 But, in the "meantime, there is something which 
 every parent can do, something more safe than sudden 
 innovation ; more manly, more becoming, more useful, 
 than indulgence in idle declamation or indolent despair. 
 Every father, every mother, can, by preparatory care, 
 direct the home education of their boys before they 
 send them to school. 
 
 Every parent can, by this preparatory care, easily do 
 that which it is not in the power of any schoolmaster 
 to effect, -however able or zealous. 
 
 For, picture to yourself a perfect schoolmaster. Un- 
 less he be endowed with the gifts of ubiquity and om- 
 niscience, unless he neither sleep nor nod, he cannot
 
 TO PARENTS. 155 
 
 always see, or always know, what is going on among 
 the hundreds assembled under his tuition ; he can make 
 only general regulations, and enforce obedience to 
 these ; but he has no time for individual inspection ; he 
 cannot attend to the habits of each boy's understanding 
 or temper, nor adapt his moral instruction to the cure 
 of his defects. Yet this is expected, and more : he is 
 expected to correct, in a few months, perhaps, all the 
 faults, all the bad habits, which boys may have acquired 
 during the eight or ten previous years of their life. 
 
 Parents sometimes seem to consider a schoolmaster 
 as a magician, who can accomplish every wish, how- 
 ever extravagant ; who can confer every moral gift, and 
 every intellectual talent. 
 
 Sending a boy to school is by such parents considered 
 as a remedy for every evil. Is their boy indolent? 
 Oh, send him to school, and he will become active. Is 
 he headstrong ] No matter, his temper will be cured 
 at school. Is he bashful ? He will become confident 
 enough at a public school. Is he selfish ? He will be- 
 come generous. Is he cowardly ? He will become 
 brave. Above all, he will learn to be manly ; every boy 
 becomes manly at school. But he has no habits of ap- 
 plication, order, or truth. No matter, he will learn 
 them all when he goes to school ; it is his master's busi- 
 ness to teach him these. He does not know, perhaps, 
 how to write, or to read, or to spell, or to speak his 
 mother tongue correctly. But it is his schoolmaster's 
 business to teach him : why should he be teased with 
 these things at home ? His parents may indulge him 
 and spoil him as much as they please ; it is the business 
 of that devoted being, of that martyr, a schoolmaster, to 
 do and to suffer all that parents themselves cannot do 
 or suffer. Without pleading in his favour (for who 
 would undertake so unpopular a cause]), it may be pru- 
 dent, on the part of parents, to consider whether, if 
 their sons afterward should disappoint their expecta- 
 tions, should turn out blockheads or spendthrifts, should 
 throw away their fortunes at the gaming table, or their 
 lives in disgraceful connexions or ill-assorted marriages, 
 should make their hearts ache for many a long year, 
 and bring their gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, it 
 would be a sufficient consolation, or quieting to their 
 conscience, to throw the blame upon the negligence of 
 the schoolmaster, and the vices of our public institutions.
 
 150 TO PARENTS. 
 
 It is the object of the present little book not only to 
 contribute to the amusement and advantage of children, 
 but to point out by what means every father, and still 
 more, every mother, may, by care in the previous edu- 
 cation of their children at home, guard in a great meas- 
 ure against the danger which they fear at school ; and 
 by what means they may give to their boys the greatest 
 chance of securing every advantage to be hoped from 
 public education. 
 
 The following pages contain the history of Frank 
 from seven years old, where we left him, till between 
 ten and eleven. From the time his father determined 
 to send him to a public school, this preparatory educa- 
 tion appears to commence. 
 
 It is by no means presumed that the course here fol- 
 lowed is the best, or the only course possible. A thou- 
 sand different roads may be taken that will lead to the 
 same end. Provided that the great object be kept 
 steadily in view, every one may please himself in the 
 choice of a path. 
 
 The great object is to give your son good principles, 
 and to teach him to abide by his resolutions. It is a 
 mistake to suppose that resolution can be exercised 
 only upon great occasions, or in matters of consequence. 
 The habit of self-control can be formed by daily gradual 
 exercise in early childhood ; and it is by attention to 
 this that a fond and judicious mother may prepare her 
 child with resolution to resist all the new temptations 
 which may occur when he shall leave her guardian 
 care. This is to be done, not by teasing him with ad- 
 monition upon every slight occasion, but by inspiring in 
 his own mind the wish to control himself. 
 
 Usually, the first ambition of a schoolboy is to be 
 thought manly. Manly ! How many boys and men 
 have been destroyed by the false ideas annexed to this 
 word ! Folly, frolic, extravagance, passion, violence, 
 brutality, every excess, every vice s seek shelter from 
 infamy, and too often find it, under this imposing word. 
 Thousands of fine boys, the finest, of the highest spirit, 
 of the best talent, the most generous disposition, have 
 been ruined by their false conceptions of this single 
 word. The first danger a boy has to encounter at a 
 public school, is from this word manly. He hears that 
 it is manly to do whatever is done by boys older and 
 taller, not wiser, than himself. He is, in the first place,
 
 TO PARENTS. 157 
 
 laughed at for having been bred up at home ; ridiculed 
 for all that he has been taught to think right at home ; 
 taught that it is manly to throw off home restraint, 
 and to resist home influence. Even while his affection 
 for his friends remains undiminished, he is taught to be 
 ashamed to show it' ; and he is led to set at naught the 
 opinion and advice of fathers, mothers, brothers, and 
 sisters, because his schoolfellows call this being manly 
 and independent. This first step in error leads neces- 
 sarily to others more dangerous: first, he is afraid of 
 being thought a child ; next, of being thought a milksop. 
 First, the influence of parents, next, the control of mas- 
 ters, must . be set at defiance ; then every sort of re- 
 straint, moral and religious, must be conquered : he 
 must drink, he must game, he must get in debt, he 
 must lie to conceal his debt from his parents, he must 
 practise every species of falsehood and meanness, to 
 do as others do, who call themselves manly, independent, 
 spirited. 
 
 Parents, if you would prevent your sons from setting 
 at naught your influence, if you would save your sons 
 from destruction, moral and worldly, give them, before 
 you send them to a public school, just ideas of what is, 
 or ought to be, meant by a manly character. But can 
 this be done so early ? Yes, it can. Mothers, when first 
 you see the infant ambition to be manly break forth in 
 your boys, smile upon it, encourage it, but mark that 
 you guide it well. Your boy first shows himself eager 
 to excel his companions in bodily strength and agility. 
 He is proud to be able to walk, to run, to wrestle, to 
 ride, better than boys a little older, or perhaps a little 
 taller than himself, and you praise him for being manly ; 
 and this is all well, provided it be not done in the mere 
 spirit of imitation ; but if once you let that spirit rule, 
 without reference to what is good in itself, you will re- 
 pent it as surely as you and your children live. Teach 
 your son the truth, that manly exercises are useful in 
 themselves, as part of a manly character, but not the 
 whole. Teach him that to be manly, strength of mind 
 is still more essential than strength of body. Teach 
 him that it is only the weak who require the support 
 of numbers to prove to them that they are in the right. 
 Teach your son that manly strength of character is 
 shown in abiding by his conviction and his resolution ; 
 14
 
 158 TO PARENTS 
 
 in defying ridicule, and in resisting all that is wrong in 
 every shape. 
 
 High-sounding words ! too high, it may perhaps be 
 thought, for children to feel or understand. No ; try them, 
 and you will find that these sentiments are not above 
 their comprehension. When once the infant thought 
 has been touched with this noble feeling, this generous 
 ambition, the main point of education is secure. Rest 
 your hope, and his own hopes of himself, firmly on this 
 desire and effort to improve. Do not wear out his sen- 
 sibility of conscience by teaching that slight deviations 
 are irreparable ; for by this you will either make your 
 boy despair of himself, or teach him to be a hypocrite. 
 
 Few can, or will, or ought, perhaps, to give up so 
 much of their time and attention as Frank's father and 
 mother did to their son. The details of what was done 
 by them are given, not as models of imitation, but as 
 modes of illustrating general principles : as hints, which 
 the understanding and affection of parents will easily 
 apply in varying circumstances. It is impossible to 
 mark the differences without knowing each peculiar case. 
 All that can be done is to give the example of a child 
 who probably resembles in the principal points a large 
 proportion of boys of his age. 
 
 It will be observed by those who were formerly ac- 
 quainted with Frank, and who are kind enough to retain 
 any recollection of his early history, that he is become, 
 we will not say more conceited, that is a harsh word, 
 but more fond of praise than when we parted from him 
 last. In this tendency to vanity he will be found, prob- 
 ably, to resemble most vivacious boys of his age, who 
 have been educated as he unfortunately was, without 
 any but female companions at home. 
 
 Some other faults have likewise broken out in him, 
 which are likely to be the result of anxious private edu- 
 cation. There are two classes of parents to be consid- 
 ered ; those who are too careless, and those who are too 
 anxious. To the careless we have said enough, we 
 hope, to arouse them to attention : but the fault of the 
 present day is too much anxiety concerning details. 
 Parents and private tutors are not only too eager to 
 adopt every new receipt for teaching much in a short 
 time, but are also too easily alarmed by every deficiency 
 which they perceive in their pupils, and draw too readily
 
 To PARENTS 159 
 
 evil auguries from every trifle. They are so anxious 
 to make their pupils go on, and go right, and go straight, 
 every instant, that they deprive them of the power of 
 acting, thinking, feeling for themselves. Thus they 
 turn them either into helpless puppets, who must cease 
 to move, or fall, when the guiding-strings are no longer 
 pulled ; or, if they be not reduced to this automaton 
 state, they become restiff, wilful creatures, who, the 
 instant they are at liberty, set off in a contrary direction 
 to that in which they have been forced. 
 
 Frank's father and mother are not wholly free from 
 this over anxiety, inseparable, perhaps, from tender pa- 
 rental affection ; but it appears that they are conscious 
 of its danger, and endeavour, as far as human nature 
 will permit, to counteract its effects. 
 
 Their errors may, perhaps, be more useful to parents 
 than all their sense or their exertions. In the chief 
 points they can scarcely lead astray those who may 
 most actively follow their example ; nor is that exam- 
 ple calculated to throw the most timid into despair. 
 Without limiting to a particular course of lessons, they 
 excite their boy to acquire that knowledge which it is 
 most necessary for him to attain before he goes to 
 school ; and as to the rest, they are content with inspi- 
 ring him with that general love of literature, which they 
 know will make him continue to read and improve him- 
 self when he is left to his own guidance. Without too 
 rigid morality, they uniformly press the great principles 
 of right and wrong, and endeavour to educate a con- 
 science that shall neither be too tender nor too callous. 
 They try by all means to give Frank self-control and 
 self-command ; knowing that if he obtain these he will 
 have the best chance of being able to resist temptation, 
 in whatever circumstances he may be placed ; and they 
 leave much to a large chapter, which has been forgot- 
 ten in most modern systems of education the chapter 
 of accidents. 
 
 All this can surely be done by every parent who really 
 wishes it, and without any pedantry of system, or appa- 
 ratus of discipline and masters : as the most classically 
 eloquent of modern moralists has observed, in a com- 
 prehensive essay on the question of " What is Educa- 
 tion 1" 
 
 " It is not necessary to devote to the education of one 
 child the talents and the time of a number of grown
 
 160 TO PARENTS. 
 
 men, to surround him with an artificial world, and to 
 counteract by maxims the natural tendencies of the sit- 
 uation he is placed in in society. Every one has time 
 to educate his child ; the poor man educates him while 
 working in his cottage, the man of business while em- 
 ployed in his counting-house." 
 
 " Do we see a father who is diligent in his profession, 
 domestic in his habits, whose house is the resort of 
 well-informed, intelligent people ; a mother whose time 
 is usefully filled, whose attention to her duties secures 
 esteem, and whose amiable manners attract affection ? 
 Do not be solicitous, respectable couple, about the moral 
 education of your offspring. Do not be uneasy because 
 you cannot surround them with the apparatus of books 
 and systems, or fancy you must retire from the world 
 to devote yourself to their improvement. In your world 
 they are brought up much better than they could be 
 under any plan of factitious education which you could 
 provide for them : they will imbibe affection from your 
 caresses, taste from your conversation, urbanity from 
 the commerce of vour society, and mutual love from 
 your example."
 
 
 FRANK. 
 
 " LOOK, my dear Mary, look what my father has given 
 us," cried Frank, as he came into the room, carrying a 
 basket, which was full and heavy. 
 
 " What is in it ]" said Mary, eagerly taking off the 
 top of the basket. " Only little bricks !" said she, dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 " Do not you like little bricks ?" said Frank. 
 
 " I do ; but from your great joy I expected something 
 else something new. You know we have had little 
 bricks ever since the month after I first came here, and 
 that is now above a year ago." 
 
 " But these are mch better than what we had before ; 
 look, these are of wood, and they will not break; the 
 corners will not chip off as our plaster of Paris bricks 
 did ; and these will not whiten or dirty our clothes, or 
 the carpet, or the furniture ; besides, we can build a 
 great deal better with these than with our old bricks, 
 because these are heavier." 
 
 J " What heavy bricks !" said Mary, taking one in each 
 hand ; " of what wood are they made V 
 
 Frank told her, as his father had told him, that they 
 are made of a wood called lignum vitae ; he showed her 
 that they were all exactly of the same size ; and he told 
 her that his father had made some of them himself, to 
 show the carpenter how to finish them carefully : they 
 were all made in the proportion of real bricks, so that 
 the houses constructed with them might be built in the 
 same manner as real buildings of real bricks. 
 
 " And now, Mary, what shall we do first ? I have 
 thought of a great many things. I should like to build 
 one of the London bridges, of which we have a print ; 
 or Westminster Abbey, or York or Lichfield Cathedral, 
 or a Roman triumphal arch, or the ruins of Kenilworth 
 Castle." 
 
 " Kenilworth Castle pray let us begin with," said 
 Mary, who had seen the print of Kenilworth, at which 
 everybody in the house had lately been looking. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " will you be so good as to lend 
 14*
 
 162 FRANK. 
 
 us the print and the plan of Kenilworth which you have 
 in the great portfolio ! We will take a great deal of care 
 of them ; and we can build our castle in the bow- win- 
 dow, where we shall be quite out of the way, and how 
 happy we shall be this rainy morning, though we can- 
 not go out !" 
 
 His mother lent the print and the plan to Frank, de- 
 siring him at the same time to take care not to spoil 
 them. She said that he might consult them as they lay 
 upon the table, but that he must not have them upon the 
 floor. 
 
 As soon as they looked at the plan Mary said it was 
 too difficult, and advised him to begin with something 
 that would be easier to imitate than these ruins. But 
 he set to work on the plan of Kenilworth. He built up 
 and he pulled down, and he measured and made mis- 
 takes, and he set Mary to layout one part while he was 
 busy at another : but Mary did not succeed in her part, 
 and she said she did not think Frank's tower looked like 
 the tower in the print. Frank proved, as well as rule, 
 and compasses, and figures could prove it, that all that 
 he had done was quite right, and he showed Mary where 
 hers was wrong ; however, as she found it too difficult, 
 and as she was tired of not succeeding, he good-natu- 
 redly swept away his tower, and said he would do any 
 thing else which Mary might like better. Mary was 
 pleased by his good-nature, and he helped her to build 
 her favourite transparent round tower, which is easily 
 constructed, merely by leaving the thickness of one 
 brick between each that is laid on. This tower was 
 raised to a height above that of any edifice which these 
 little architects had ever before erected ; and when it 
 was accomplished, Frank's mother turned to look at it, 
 and admired it as much as could be reasonably expected. 
 Mary next assisted Frank in building his triumphal Ro- 
 man arch, which he endeavoured to form by making one 
 brick project beyond another till they met over the open 
 space, so that the inside of the curve or arch resembled 
 a flight of steps upside down ; but, before it could be fin- 
 ished, bricks were wanting, and no resource remained 
 but to pull down Mary's tower. To this, with good-hu- 
 mour, she consented, and supplied him with bricks from 
 its ruins so fast, that he said that she was now an ex- 
 cellent strata-man. 
 
 " My dear Frank," said Mary, " how happy we always
 
 FRANK. 1 63 
 
 are now; we play together without the disputes we 
 used to have. Do you remember that melancholy 
 month, when we were separated every time we quar- 
 relled? Oh that was a miserable time !" 
 
 " It was indeed," said Frank ; " but it was well for us, 
 because it cured us at last of disputing ; and now, when 
 you feel a little impatient, you stop yourself in time, 
 Mary, my dear." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary ; " and Frank, my dear, whenever 
 you are going to be angry, you stop yourself too. Now 
 you give up a little and I give up a little." 
 
 " Hush ! my dear," said Frank, " for I am just going 
 to join together the two sides of my arch, you see." 
 
 " Very well indeed," said Mary, who had remained 
 quite still and silent until the last brick was placed. 
 " And now, Frank, you will acknowledge that I have 
 done more for you than you did for me this morning : 
 because, when you bid me hush, I hushed ; but when I 
 was in my great difficulties, trying to make out that 
 plan of Kenilworth Castle, you went on talking so fast 
 to me that I could not mind what I was about, and that 
 was the cause of all no, I don't say all, but of a great 
 many of the mistakes that I made." 
 
 " But why did not you ask me not to speak," said 
 Frank 1 " How could I imagine that you did not like to 
 hear me talk when you did not t^ll me so ?" 
 
 " I was afraid you would be angry if I said hush," re- 
 plied Mary. 
 
 " But that was foolish of you ; I am sure I am never 
 angry now, am I ?" said Frank. 
 
 i " Not often," replied Mary ; " but I cannot say that 
 you are never angry, my dear Frank." 
 
 " When was I angry last 1 I do not remember," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " I do," said Mary ; " but I do not like to put you in 
 mind of it," 
 
 " I recollect, Mary, the last time when you were an- 
 gry, and that was yesterday," said Frank. 
 
 " Oh no, I was not angry, I was only a little, a very 
 little impatient," said Mary. 
 
 " Well, but if I allow that for you, Mary," said Frank, 
 " you must allow the same for me. You must not say 
 that I was angry." 
 
 " Perhaps I should not say angry quite, but very near 
 being angry," replied Mary.
 
 164 PRANK. 
 
 " That is quite a different affair," said Frank ; " no 
 matter fcpw near I am ; if I command myself I have the 
 greater merit." 
 
 " Maybe so," said Mary ; " but I do not know what 
 good, or merit, as you call it, there is in being very 
 nearly angry. Now let us ask mamma." 
 
 " Mamma, which do you think is most apt to be an- 
 gry V cried they both together, going before the table 
 at which she was writing; their eyes sparkling and their 
 cheeks crimson. 
 
 " My dear children," said Frank's mother, " I have 
 heard the word angry too often within these last five 
 minutes. Compare yourselves with what you have 
 been, and observe as much as you please whether you 
 improve or not ; that will be better than disputing about 
 which is the most or the least apt to be impatient a 
 point which neither of you can decide, because you can- 
 not see into each other's minds ; but you may both ob- 
 serve what passes in your own." 
 
 " Yes, and I can govern my own too," said Frank, 
 proudly. 
 
 " And so can I," said Mary. " Well, what shall we 
 do next, Frank ?" 
 
 Frank proposed building, with what remained of the 
 bricks of Mary's tower, a flight of winding stairs, like 
 one of Avhich they had a print. At this they worked 
 very happily ; but before they had finished it a carriage 
 drove to the door. 
 
 " Who is it V said Frank and Mary, looking out of 
 the window. 
 
 It was a lady whom they had never before seen, who" 
 had but lately come to live in the neighbourhood. Upon 
 the barouche-seat of the carriage, by the side of the 
 coachman, there sat a little boy, who looked rather taller 
 and older than Frank. This boy did not get down, 
 though it rained. He sat still, kicking his heels against 
 the foot-board, and playing with the coachman's whip, 
 while the coachman held an umbrella over his head. 
 
 After the lady had been a little while in the room, 
 Frank, watching for a time when neither she nor his 
 mother was talking, went to his mother and whis- 
 pered, 
 
 " There is a little boy sitting on the barouche-seat of 
 that carriage : it is raining very hard, mamma, shall I 
 go and ask him to come in 1"
 
 FRANK. 165 
 
 The lady heard what Frank whispered, and she thank- 
 ed him; but saidTher son was so shy that she often 
 could not prevail upon him to come into a room where 
 he expected to see strangers. 
 
 " And besides," said she, " Tom is so fond of being 
 with the coachman and the horses, and of having a whip 
 in his hand, making believe to drive, that I assure you he 
 would rather sit there in the rain from morning tiH 
 night than do any thing else in the world ; and as these 
 are his holydays, I let him have his own way, and do 
 just what he pleases. You know boys, ma'am, are kept 
 strictly enou h at school with their lessons and their 
 masters." 
 
 Soon afterward the boy touched the horses with the 
 coachman's whip, which made one of them start and 
 rear ; upon which the lady, alarmed, ran to the window, 
 beckoned to her son, and desired him to get down and 
 come in immediately. Very unwillingly he obeyed. 
 He then came into the room, looking ashamed or sulky, 
 and setting his back against one side of the chimney- 
 piece, he scarcely answered any thing that was said to 
 him. 
 
 However, when something to eat was brought into 
 the room, he recovered a little. Frank's mother desired 
 him to help the stranger to whatever he liked; and 
 Frank did so without giving him the trouble to say 
 more than " yes" or " no." After they had finished eat- 
 ing, the boy let Frank lead him away to the bow- window 
 where Mary and he had been playing ; and Frank, point- 
 ing to his little bricks, asked if he had any such as 
 those 1 
 
 " Not I," answered Tom ; " at school we have other 
 fish to fry." 
 
 " Fish to fry !" thought Mary ; " what can that mean V 
 
 " But in the holydays," said Frank, " should not you 
 like such bricks !" 
 
 "Not I," said Tom; "they're baby bricks, fit for 
 girl's play." 
 
 Frank, colouring a little, said his father thought they 
 were very useful, and he began to explain the uses that 
 could be made of them. But the boy, knotting a whip 
 which he held in his hand, said he knew nothing of 
 such things, and he did not like them. 
 
 "Perhaps you like prints," said Mary; "here are 
 some very pretty prints in this portfolio ; will you look 
 at them!"
 
 166 PRANK. 
 
 " No," Tom said ; he thought prints were great bores. 
 
 " Great bores /" repeated Mary. 
 
 " Yes, especially in the holydays," said Tom, " horrid 
 bores." 
 
 " What can he mean by horrid bores 1" said Mary to 
 Frank. 
 
 " Hush ! my dear," said Frank. 
 
 *' Not know what a bore means ; why what quizzes 
 you would be thought at school !" 
 
 Mary, ashamed lo ask what was meant by quizzes, or 
 to confess that she did not know, was silent for some 
 moments, but then said, " I shall never go to school, I 
 believe, but Frank will, some time or other." 
 
 " Do you like going to school ?" said -Frank to the 
 boy. 
 
 " No," said Tom ; " who does V 
 
 " Why don't you like itl" said Frank. 
 
 " I don't know," said Tom. turning half away ; " be- 
 cause I don't." 
 
 Another silence : but Mary, who was curious to hear 
 more, asked Tom how old he was when he first went to 
 school * 
 
 " About nine years old," said Tom. 
 
 " And how old are you now 7" 
 
 " I shall be eleven next October," said Tom. 
 
 " And Frank will be ten next July," said Mary ; " and 
 I suppose he will go to school then." 
 
 " Then let him take care he gets the Latin grammar 
 well first, or he'll get finely flogged." 
 
 Mary and Frank looked at each other. Frank looked 
 very serious, and Mary rather dismal. 
 
 " How glad you must be when you come home at the 
 holydays !" said Frank. 
 
 " Only I have no horse yet," said Tom. 
 
 " Have you books at your home ?" said Frank. 
 
 " No," replied Tom, looking very grave in his turn. 
 
 " Then." said Mary, " we can lend you some of ours." 
 
 She and Frank ran to their little bookcase, beckon- 
 ing him to follow ; but as he did not stir, they brought 
 several of what they thought their most entertaining 
 books, and spread them on the table before him, asking 
 him if he had read this, or that, and expressing some 
 surprise when he answered " No" to every book they 
 showed him, or of which they read the title. After 
 every " No," Mary repeated " Not read that ! Frank
 
 FRANK. 167 
 
 has read that." And Frank always added, "We will 
 lend it to you if you wish for it." To which Tom made 
 no answer till a pile of these offered volumes was built 
 up opposite to him, and Mary prepared to wrap them up 
 for him in brown paper. He then looked frightened, 
 and pushing them from him, muttered, " Thank you for 
 nothing, said the gallipot." 
 
 Mary, with the brown paper half unrolled, and Frank, 
 with the packthread in his hand, stood surprised and 
 puzzled. Mary at last repeated the words, " said the 
 gallipot." 
 
 " There's no talking to you you don't understand a 
 word one says," said Tom ; " but that's not surprising 
 for a girl; and boys that have never been at school 
 know no better." 
 
 " Do you mean that you do not like to have these 
 books ?" said Frank. 
 
 " No, I have enough of books at school," replied Tom. 
 
 " Then we will put ours by again," said Mary ; and 
 she did so. 
 
 " What do you read at school]" asked Frank. 
 
 " Latin," said Tom. 
 
 " What, Latin books '" said Frank. , 
 
 " I am in Virgil," said Tom. 
 
 Frank looked up at him with a respectful air. " And 
 what else ?" said he, timidly. 
 
 "Virgil's enough," replied Tom; "I read but one 
 book at a time." 
 
 " But what English books do you read ?" 
 
 " English ! our class don't read English. We read 
 nothing but Latin." 
 
 " Do you read nothing but Latin ?" said Frank and 
 Mary, looking at him with a mixture of astonishment 
 and admiration ; " nothing but Latin !" 
 
 " And enough, and too much too," said Tom, " as 
 you'll know," added he, nodding at Frank, " next year, 
 when you go to school." 
 
 Frank and Mary continued .silent, pondering upon this 
 for some minutes. Frank began to think again very se- 
 riously about school and the Latin grammar, and about 
 reading nothing but Latin. Mary was tired of the si- 
 lence of her two companions, and began to listen to 
 what the lady and Frank's mamma were saying. They 
 were talking of some new book or story called " The 
 Vampire."
 
 1 68 t RANK 
 
 ** After all, ma'am,," said the lady, "what shocking 
 stories they do tell of those vampire bats sucking the 
 blood of people when they are asleep! But," added 
 she, looking at Mary and observing that she was listen- 
 ing, " little pitchers have long ears ; one should not 
 mention such things before children. But that little 
 lady of yours need not be frightened about the vampire, 
 as so many silly children have been by this tale ; be- 
 cause I am clear, you know, ma'am, there's not any truth 
 in these stories." 
 
 " Yes, so I think," said Mary, looking and speaking 
 so composedly that the lady could not help smiling at 
 her " quiet decision," as she called it, and added, " One 
 would imagine she knew a great deal about vampire 
 bats. What do you know about them, my dear ?" 
 
 " I only know I know only what Frank told me ; 
 what you read to me, Frank, in this book," said Mary, 
 taking up one of the little volumes which lay upon the 
 table. " Here it is I know the place I have it. 
 Frank, will you read it T" said she, putting the book into 
 his hand and pointing to the passage. Frank looked as 
 if he waited to know whether the lady wished to hear 
 or not. 
 
 " Oh yes, pray do read it, Master Frank," said the 
 lady ; " I am sure I shall like to hear it of all things." 
 
 Frank began with the description of this bat, and then 
 read as follows : 
 
 " ' In the autumn of 1810, I had for a short time a liv- 
 ing vampire bat, of a large size, from the East Indies; 
 and, contrary to what has been asserted, found it a most 
 inoffensive, harmless, entertaining creature ; it refused 
 animal food, but fed plentifully on succulent' (or nour- 
 ishing) ' fruits, preferring figs and pears ; it licked the 
 hand that presented them, seeming delighted with the 
 caresses of the person who fed it, playing with them in 
 the manner of a young kitten ; it was fond of white 
 wine, of which it took half a glass at a time, lapping it 
 like a cat. This had an evident effect on its spirits ; it 
 then became extremely frolicsome and diverting, but 
 never once attempted to bite. It slept suspended, with 
 its head downwards, wrapping its satin-like wings round 
 its body in the form of a mantle. I several times per- 
 mitted it to enclose the end of my finger in its mouth, 
 for the purpose of observing if it would attempt to draw 
 blood ; but not the slightest indication' (or sign) ' of such
 
 FRANK. 160 
 
 Intention appeared ; and I have strong reason to doubt 
 the stories related so greatly to its disadvantage.' " 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said the lady, when Frank finished 
 reading. "A charming anecdote, and charmingly read." 
 
 Mary looked delighted as the lady said these words, 
 but Frank looked down, and seemed ashamed ; perhaps 
 he had some recollection of the flattering lady, who, 
 when he was a very little boy, had first praised him for 
 his reading, and laughed at him afterward. 
 
 " 1 am sure," continued the lady, " I wish my Tom, 
 there, could read half a quarter as well ; and he is, I 
 dare say, a year older than Master Frank. Tom stum- 
 bles at every word of four syllables, even in the com- 
 mon newspaper. Really, ma'am, English reading, and 
 writing, and spelling, altogether, are shamefully neg- 
 lected at his school here in the country : I must speak 
 about it." 
 
 " If you speak ever so much, mother," cried Tom, 
 suddenly bursting out with a loud voice, " the masters 
 cannot do it now, because of getting me on with Latin. 
 English and them things should be taught at home, they 
 say, before one goes to school, for there's no time after, 
 when one's getting from form to form, and fitting for 
 Westminster or Eton ! and then we must get on to Ox- 
 ford or Cambridge," added he, nodding his head and 
 slashing his whip. 
 
 Frank and Mary held their breath from astonishment 
 at this speech, and at the manner in which it was spo- 
 ken. Tom's mother seemed a little ashamed of the 
 manner, and perhaps to turn off attention from her son, 
 she addressed herself to Mary. " Pray, my dear little 
 lady," said she, " what is that entertaining book in 
 which you found that charming vampire bat V 
 
 Mary said she believed it was an account of the curi- 
 osities in a museum. The little book had a long title, 
 but Frank could write it. 
 
 Frank wrote it, and took care to spell every word 
 rightly, and some were rather difficult. 
 i " The Catalogue of Bullock's Museum," said the lady, 
 reading the title. " Tom, you have seen Bullock's Mu- 
 seum." 
 
 " " Yes," said Tom, " and might have got the catalogue 
 at the door if I'd wanted it." 
 
 " Oh, Frank !" cried Mary, " he has seen Bullock's 
 Museum. Do you think he has seen the bird of Para- 
 H 15
 
 170 FRANK. 
 
 dise, and the beautiful little hummingbird, which feeds 
 its young with honey from its own tongue ]" 
 
 " And the great snake, the boa," said Frank, " did you 
 see the boa ?" 
 
 To these and many other questions, which Frank and 
 Mary asked, as it must be owned, very rapidly, Tom 
 made no answer. He was quite dumb, not even vouch- 
 safing his usual monosyllables, yes or no. Frank and" 
 Mary began to describe the animals for which they in- 
 quired, but he turned away abruptly. 
 
 " I don'J remember any thing about it, but that we 
 paid a shilling at the door," said he ; and he added, mut- 
 tering, as he went off to the window, " I went to Bul- 
 lock's for my diversion, and not to get them by heart. 
 I wonder when they'll bring the carriage to the door." 
 
 " Oh Tom ! that is very silly this is quite rude," said 
 his mother ; " but schoolboys do grow such shy, strange 
 creatures sometimes ; the masters at those schools 
 should pay more attention to their manners." 
 
 The lady endeavoured to make amends for her son's 
 rudeness by her admiration of Frank and Mary. Frank 
 at first had been ashamed of her praises of his reading ; 
 but when he heard her regret so bitterly that her son 
 could not read half a quarter so well, he pitied her, and 
 believed in her sincerity ; and when she now rose, and 
 came to admire his triumphal arch, he could not help 
 being pleased with her, and with himself, and he could 
 not refrain from showing her a little more of his knowl- 
 edge. He asked if she knew which was the key-stone, 
 and which were the butments of the arch. 
 
 " How glad I should be," said she, " to know all 
 these things, and to be able to teach them to my poor 
 Tom!" 
 
 " Ma'am," cried little Mary, " Frank could tell them 
 all to him, as he told them to me, and a great deal more. 
 Frank knows " 
 
 " My dear Mary," said Frank, " don't tell all I know." 
 
 " Oh, pray let her, pray do," said the lady. 
 
 " Mary," said her mother, " put by these prints." 
 
 "Yes, mamma; but first, in this print, ma'am," per- 
 sisted Mary, returning to the lady, who seemed to desire 
 so much to be taught, " here are a great number of 
 things you would like to see, and that Frank knows: 
 here are all these pillars all the orders of architecture." 
 
 Frank could resist no longer, and quite forgetting his
 
 PKANK. 171 
 
 modesty and his fear of flattery, and without observing 
 his mother's grave look, he went on with " Tuscan, Do- 
 ric, Ionic, Corinthian, Composite." Encouraged by 
 Mary's sympathy, and by the lady's exclamations of de- 
 light, he showed off his whole stock of learning between 
 the time when the bell had been rung for the carriage 
 and when it arrived at the door. 
 
 " Here's Jack, mother : here's our carriage, ma'am," 
 cried Tom ; and, as he passed, whether on purpose or 
 by accident cannot be known, he threw down, with one 
 stroke of his whip, Frank's triumphal arch. 
 
 The moment they were out of the room, scarcely was 
 the door shut, when Mary and Frank, both at once, be- 
 gan to express their opinions in no gentle terms of Mas- 
 ter Tom. 
 
 " What a very disagreeable creature ; what a shock- 
 ingly stupid, ignorant boy," said Frank. 
 
 " What a very ill-humoured, horribly ill-mannered 
 boy," said Mary. 
 
 " Gently, gently," said his mother, " lest I should think 
 you horribly ill-natured." 
 
 " But, mamma, can you like a boy," said Mary, " who 
 is neither sensible, nor well-bred, nor good-natured, nor 
 good-tempered 1" 
 
 " No, my dear ; did I say that I liked him 1" 
 
 " Then I do not understand you, mamma. You are 
 just of the same opinion as we are, and yet " 
 
 " And yet I do not express it so violently." 
 
 " I acknowledge I was wrong to say he was horribly 
 ill-natured. But I cannot help thinking he is shockingly 
 stupid. My dear mamma, only think of his not remem- 
 bering the hummingbird, or the vampire bat, or any one 
 thing he saw at the museum," said Mary. 
 
 " And think of his not having read any one of all the 
 books we have read," said Frank, " and not wishing for 
 any of them when we offered to lend them." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, only consider that he is a year older 
 than Frank." 
 
 " Almost," said Frank. 
 
 "And half a head taller," said Mary; "yet Frank 
 knows so much more than he does, and reads so much 
 better : even his mother said so, indeed, mamma." 
 
 " I do not doubt it, Mary." 
 
 " But you do not seem glad of it, mamma ; I do not 
 quite understand why." 
 
 H2
 
 172 PRANK. 
 
 " My dear, I am glad that Frank knows how to read, 
 and to read well for a boy of his age ; but I need not be 
 glad to find that another boy reads ill." 
 
 "No," said Frank, "that would be ill-natured; be- 
 sides, his poor mother is so sorry for it." 
 
 " There was some truth, was there not, mamma," 
 continued Mary, " in what the boy said, though he said 
 it very disagreeably, that his mother ought to have 
 taught him to read well, and write, and spell, before this 
 time." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, my dear mother," said 
 Frank, " for having taught me all these things ; particu- 
 larly if what that boy said be true, that there is no time 
 at school for learning such things afterward. Is this 
 true, mamma?" 
 
 " It may be true in this instance ; but we must not 
 judge of all schools by one, nor of any school by what 
 one boy says of it." 
 
 " Whenever Frank goes to school, mamma, his school- 
 fellows and everybody will see that he has been taught 
 something a great deal too," said Mary. 
 
 " Something, but not a great deal," said his mother. 
 " What appears to you a great deal, compared with an 
 unfortunate boy who has not been taught any thing, 
 will appear very little, compared with others who have 
 learned a great deal." 
 
 " That is true, I suppose," said Mary. 
 
 " That is true, certainly," said Frank. 
 
 " But, mamma, do not you think," resumed he, " that 
 Tom's mother will directly set about and try to teach 
 him all those things which I taught her I mean all the 
 things she said I knew so much better than her son, 
 and that she would give the world if he knew as well as 
 I do 1 Why do you smile, mamma 1 ?" 
 
 A sudden thought, a sudden light seemed to come 
 across Frank's mind at this moment ; his countenance 
 changed, his look of self-satisfaction vanished; and in 
 a tone of mortification and vexation he exclaimed, 
 " Perhaps that woman was laughing at me all the while ! 
 O mother, O Mary, what a fool I have been !" 
 
 Frank hid his face in his hands. 
 
 " My dear, dear Frank," said Mary, going to comfort 
 him, " I am very sorry I asked you to tell her all you 
 knew. But, mamma, it is that foolish mother's fault if 
 she laughs at Frank. W T hy should he blame himself?
 
 PRANK. 173 
 
 Was not he very good to tell her what would be of so 
 much use to her stupid Tom ] Was not Frank good- 
 natured, mamma V 
 
 " No, no," said Frank, " I did not do it from good- 
 nature to the boy, I forgot him ; I wanted to show his 
 mother how much I knew. Now I am sure that woman 
 is laughing at me, and that boy too is, I dare say, laugh- 
 ing at me at this instant ; that is the worst of it." 
 
 " No," said his mother, " I do not think that is the 
 worst of it. It is of little consequence to you what that 
 lady or that boy thinks of you, since she is, as you say, 
 but a foolish woman, and the boy but a stupid boy ; and 
 you may perhaps never see them again in your life." 
 
 " I hope that I never may," said Frank. " Mamma, I 
 am provoked with myself. I thought after what hap- 
 pened, mamma, about the flattering lady, long ago, I was 
 cured for life of loving flattery." 
 
 " My dear boy," said his mother, " that was too much 
 to expect from one lesson. You will find this love of 
 flattery returning upon you as long as you have any 
 vanity." 
 
 " And how long shall I have any vanity, do you think, 
 ma'am V 
 
 " As long as you are a human creature, I am afraid, 
 my dear, you will have some vanity ; but watch over it, 
 and you will conquer it, so far as to prevent it from 
 making a fool of you." 
 
 " I will try to conquer it," said Frank. " But, mam- 
 ma," continued he, after a pause, during which he 
 seemed to be thinking very deeply, " if I really see that 
 I am -better, or know more, than other people I mean 
 than other boys of my age how can I help being pleas- 
 ed with myself? And is this to be called vanity V 
 
 " That depends upon whether you are or are not too 
 much pleased with yourself, and whether you do or do 
 not overvalue yourself. Even that boy, Mary, whom 
 you think shockingly stupid, may be superior to Frank in, 
 some things." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Mary, doubtfully. 
 
 " Certainly, in Latin," said Frank ; " for he said he 
 was reading Virgil, and you know that I have not yet 
 learned the Latin grammar. I will try to improve myself 
 in Latin before I go to school; because, if even this boy 
 knows so much more than I do, I suppose I shall find al- 
 most every boy at school knows more of Latin than I do " 
 15*
 
 174 FRANK. 
 
 " That is very likely my dear," said his mother. 
 
 " Well then," said Frank, " there is no danger of my 
 being vain, mamma, when I go to school, and see other 
 boys cleverer than myself." 
 
 " True, my dear ; that is one great advantage of go- 
 ing to a public school ; you will live with a number of 
 boys of your own age; you will be compared with 
 them, and you will then find what you really do know 
 and what you do not know. We are never so vain of 
 that which we are certain we know well as that of 
 which we are doubtful." 
 
 " I have observed that of myself, mamma," said 
 Frank. " Even this morning I did not feel vain of my 
 reading, because I was quite sure I could read, and I 
 did not want to show that off." 
 
 " When you go to school," said Mary, " take care to 
 talk always of the things you know quite well, and of 
 those things only, that you may not be laughed at." 
 
 " And, if you will take my advice, Frank," said his 
 mother, " even of the things you know, talk only to 
 those who want to hear of them, and then your com- 
 panions will like you." 
 
 " I should be very sorry to be disliked by my school- 
 fellows," said Frank. 
 
 " Disliked ! Oh, it is impossible that they should dis- 
 like Frank, he is so good-natured," said Mary. " Mam- 
 ma, I hope he will not go to school this great while. 
 When will he go, mamma V 
 
 " In about a year and a half," said his mother. 
 
 " Then we need not think about it now," said Mary; 
 " a year and a half is such an immense time !" 
 
 " In that year and a half I shall have plenty of time," 
 said Frank, " to learn the Latin grammar, that I may 
 not be finely flogged, as the boy said, when I go to 
 school ; and in a year and a half I shall have time 
 enough to cure myself of my vanity, mamma, and of all 
 my faults." 
 
 " Mamma, except vanity, what are Frank's faults?" 
 said Mary. " I did not know he had any." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, I must have some ; but, except vanity, 
 what faults have I, mamma 1 Will you tell them to me 
 all ?" 
 
 " Cure that one first, my dear," said his mother ; " and 
 then I will try and find another for you." 
 
 **Jf you can, ma'am," said Mary ; " in the meantime
 
 PRANK. 175 
 
 I will put by his triumphal arch ; and let us go out, now 
 it has done raining, and let us have a good race." 
 
 " Ay," said Frank, " for do you remember that boy 
 asked whether I could run, mamma. He said that he 
 never knew a boy bred up at home that could run. 
 Now, I dare to say that I can run as well as he can, 
 and" better he would have said, but checking himself, 
 he added, " I will not say what I was going to say, lest 
 some people should call it vanity, but it is very true not- 
 withstanding." 
 
 IN pursuance of his good resolution to learn the Latin 
 grammar before he went to school, Frank said he would 
 get up at six o'clock the next morning to learn his les- 
 son. Unluckily, he overslept himself, and dreamed that 
 he was getting up and dressing, till he was wakened by 
 his cuckoo clock striking nine. It was now, as he 
 thought, too late to do much, but he dressed himself as 
 fast as he could, and he learned the first declension, and 
 said it that day to his father without missing one word. 
 The next day and many succeeding days he learned an 
 example of one of the declensions, which he said with 
 equal success ; and his father having explained to him 
 the three degrees of comparison, he went through with 
 them superlatively well. 
 
 " But oh ! Mary," said Frank " what comes next ? 
 All these verbs! And," said he, sighing, " when I come 
 to this what shall I do ? I will read it to you, Mary, and 
 Hnderstand it if you can. 
 
 " ' The subjunctive mood differs not in form from the 
 potential, but is always rendered into English as if it 
 were the indicative; it is subjoined to another verb 
 going before it in the sentence, and has therefore some 
 conjunction or definite word joined to it; as, eram miser 
 cum amarem, I was a wretch when I loved.' " 
 
 " No," said Frank, interrupting himself, " he should 
 say, ' I was a wretch when I learned the Latin gram- 
 mar.' " 
 
 '* I do not understand this grammar at all," said Mary. 
 
 " It is very hard to understand, indeed," said Frank. 
 
 " I did not know that Latin grammar was so difficult," 
 said Mary. " Very different from English grammar, at 
 least as papa taught it to us." 
 K ** That was easy work, indeed," said Frank : " after
 
 176 FRAWK. 
 
 my father had once explained to us what is meant by a 
 verb, and a noun, and a pronoun, and a noun substantive, 
 and a noun adjective, I remember that I understood 
 them all, and found out the verb, noun, and adjective in 
 the first sentence he spoke." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, " I remember the first sentence 
 was, ' Frank, shut the green door. 1 n 
 
 " Ay, fine easy work," said Frank ; " but listen to this. 
 
 " ' Of verbs ending in o, some are actives transitive, 
 when the action of it passes on the noun following.' n 
 
 Mary groaned. 
 
 " All you can do is to learn it by rote without under- 
 standing it," said she. 
 
 " But it is so difficult to learn by heart what one does 
 not understand," said Frank, " especially as I have never 
 been used to it." 
 
 " It seems to me very difficult even to read this gram- 
 mar," said Mary, looking at its pale, ill-printed pages. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, it really is ; with all these italics too, 
 and all these strange words, thereto, lehooveth, deponent, 
 transitive, words that are never met with anywhere 
 but in the Latin grammar. I assure yon, Mary, I find it 
 difficult, even I, who read so easily in general." 
 
 Frank's lesson was not well learned this day ; the 
 next it was worse, and the next worse again. The 
 grammar, as he said, grew more and more difficult; or, 
 as his father said, he took less and less pains, and his 
 father was not pleased with him. Then Frank told his 
 mother that he began to dislike the Latin grammar ex- 
 ceedingly, and that he did not know why he should go 
 on learning it. 
 
 " Do you forget, my dear Frank," said Mary, " what 
 that boy said ' You will be flogged when you go to 
 school if you do not know the Latin grammar?' " 
 
 "Is that true, mamma?" said Frank; "but here is 
 papa, just come in from riding; I will ask him, because 
 he has been at school himself, and he knows." 
 
 His father assured him that at the school to which 
 he went, flogging had been the constant punishment for 
 those who did not know their Latin lessons ; and he 
 believed, he said, that this continued to be the case at 
 most schools in England. 
 
 " In most schools, papa, but not in all ; then I hope 
 you will be so kind as to send me to a school where I 
 shall not be flogged."
 
 FRANK. 177 
 
 " But even if you are not flogged, you will be pun- 
 ished in some other way, if you do not learn the Latin 
 grammar." 
 
 "Papa," said Frank, " in general I understand the 
 use of the things you desire me to learn, but I do not 
 know the use of this Latin grammar." 
 
 " Nor can I explain it to you till you have learned more 
 of the language," answered his father. " But I assure 
 you that it is necessary to know it, that you may under- 
 stand Latin." 
 
 " And why must I understand Latin, papa ?" 
 
 "You do not know enough yet, my dear Frank," 
 answered his father, "to understand all the reasons; 
 but some of them I can explain to you many enter- 
 taining and instructive books are written in that lan- 
 guage." 
 
 " But, papa," interrupted Frank, " are not there trans- 
 lations of those books !" 
 
 " Of some there are, but there is much greater pleas- 
 ure in reading them in the original language in which 
 they were written." 
 
 " But suppose I should live without that pleasure, 
 papa," said Frank ; " many men do, do not they T and 
 almost all women. I think I could go on without it, 
 though I am a man." 
 
 " Perhaps, though you are a man, as you say, Frank, 
 that you could, if you were not a gentleman ; but it is 
 thought a necessary part of a gentleman's education 
 that he should understand Latin." 
 
 Frank sighed. 
 
 " And Greek too, in these countries," continued his 
 father. 
 
 Frank sighed again. " Cannot that be altered, papa 1 ?" 
 
 " Certainly not by you, or by your sighs, Frank," said 
 his father. " In our country a man cannot be of any of 
 what are called the liberal professions ; he carinot be 
 a lawyer, or a physician, or a clergyman; and now, 
 indeed, he cannot well be an officer either in the army 
 or navy, without understanding Latin. The thing is so, 
 my boy ; make the best of your time now, and when 
 you grow up to be a man you will feel the advantage 
 of what you now learn." 
 
 " But it will be a great while before I shall be a man," 
 said Frank. " I need not leara the Latin grammar 
 yet." 
 
 H3
 
 178 FRANK. 
 
 " You will very soon be a schoolboy, and then yon 
 will feel the advantage of having learned it." 
 
 " Remember ! Remember !" said Mary, in a tone of 
 warning. 
 
 " Yes, I remember ; but it is very disagreeable, Mary, 
 to learn any thing only to avoid a flogging." 
 
 " And very disagreeable the other way," said Mary, 
 " very disagreeable, I should think, to have a flogging." 
 " Papa," said Frank, " there is one other question I 
 should like to ask if it would not be wrong." 
 
 " It cannot be wrong for you. Frank, to ask me any 
 question ; if I do not think proper 10 answer it I shall 
 tell you so ; only make haste, because I cannot stand 
 here talking or listening to you, my dear, all day." 
 
 " Only one minute more, papa. Why cannot you be 
 so very good, papa, as to teach me Latin yourself ; if 
 you would, I should work hard at the Latin grammar, 
 and I should take more pains than I would to avoid a 
 flogging. You need not smile and shake your head, 
 papa ; only try me, you will see that I shall keep my 
 promise." 
 
 " I do not doubt that you would endeavour to keep it, 
 Frank," said his father, " but I must send you to school. 
 I cannot tell you all my reasons, but one of them you 
 shall know ; I am obliged, next year, to leave England, 
 on some public business." 
 
 " How very unlucky for me that public business is I" 
 said Frank. 
 
 " Perhaps not unlucky for you, Frank. Even if I 
 were not engaged in this business, I think I should send 
 you to school. You have no brother at home, no com- 
 panion of your own age." 
 
 Mary looked up earnestly. " Oh, papa, I am only a 
 very little younger." 
 
 " But you are a girl, my dear," said he, " and a very 
 obliging, gentle little girl ; he would grow effeminate if 
 he lived only with gentle girls and women. He must 
 be roughed about among boys, or he will never be a 
 man, and able to live among men. He is too much an 
 object of our constant attention at home, and he would 
 learn to think himself of too much consequence." 
 
 Frank said he would not think himself of too much 
 consequence. He assured his father he would cure him- 
 self of vanity, if he would but be so kind as not to send 
 him to school, or at least to send him only during the
 
 PRANK, 179 
 
 time he was obliged to be absent from England. Frank 
 could not conceive, he said, what harm it could do him 
 to be an object of his father's and mother's constant at- 
 tention. He observed that he had heard everybody 
 say (even that foolish mother) how fortunate it was for 
 him that he had parents who had taught him so much 
 and who had given so much attention to him. 
 
 His father replied that it was impossible that Frank 
 could judge upon this point what was best for himself; 
 therefore, after having given him his reasons, as far as 
 Frank could understand them, he said he must submit to 
 the decision of his parents. Frank was sorry for it, 
 but he resolved to make the best of it; and Frank 
 thanked his father for having stayed to talk to him, and 
 to explain his reasons. 
 
 " Now that I am convinced that it is necessary that I 
 should learn Latin, I shall set about it in earnest ; and 
 I am sure that I shall do it," said Frank. 
 
 His father, who was going out of the room as Frank 
 said this, looked back, and observed, that even when 
 boys are convinced that a thing is necessary to be done, 
 they have not always resolution to do it when it is dis- 
 agreeable. Frank thought that he was an exception to 
 this general rule. 
 
 Upon the strength of his desire to show that he had 
 sufficient resolution, Frank got through the pronouns 
 and their declensions ; also, with the assistance of his 
 mother's repeatedly hearing him, he accomplished learn- 
 ing an example of the first conjugation of verbs active 
 in o. In the second conjugation he found some tenses 
 so easy, that he thought he could say them without 
 taking pains to learn them. The consequence of his 
 not taking pains was, that when he went to his father 
 to say this lesson, the book was returned to him three 
 times. His resolution weakened by degrees. Though 
 convinced that he must at some time learn the Latin 
 grammar, he did not see why he should learn it before 
 he went to school. In short, the idea of the flogging at 
 some months distance, or the shame that he might then 
 be made to feel, was not sufficient to make him resist 
 the present pleasure of running out to play with Mary, 
 or building his house, or reading some entertaining story. 
 Every morning he was in a hurry to get away from his 
 Latin grammar, yet his haste seemed to make him slow. 
 He did not fix his attention upon what he was doing ;
 
 180 FRAIfK. 
 
 that he was much longer about it than was neces- 
 sary. 
 
 What he could have learned perfectly well by heart 
 in ten minutes, he seldom knew tolerably at the end of 
 an hour. Even though his poor mother, during that 
 hour, complied at least ten times with his request, of 
 
 " Will you let me say it now, mamma," or, " this 
 once more, mother ;" or, " I am sure I know it now, 
 mamma ; this time, I am quite certain I have it, ma'am." 
 
 No human patience, not even the patience of a 
 mother, could bear this every day. She made a rule, 
 that in future she would not hear him repeat his lesson 
 to her more than three times any one morning. Then 
 he went to Mary to beg of her to hear him. She held 
 the book in her hand as often as he pleased, but she 
 was not exact enough to be of much use. She did not 
 attend to the ending of the verbs while he said them ; 
 and, indeed, he gabbled them sometimes so fast, that a 
 more experienced ear than Mary's might have been puz- 
 zled. He became very careless. Mary one day said to 
 him 
 
 " My dear Frank, I know you will come to disgrace 
 if you do not take care." 
 
 Mary was right ; Frank's day of disgrace came at last. 
 
 It was May-day ; it was a fine morning. Frank ran 
 out early to his garden with Mary, to gather branches 
 and flowers to ornament a bower, in which they intend- 
 ed to ask their father and mother to drink tea in the 
 evening. 
 
 "But, Frank, be sure that you have your Latin 
 lesson." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Frank, M I learned it last night, and 
 I shall have time to look it over before I say it to papa 
 this morning." 
 
 " When will you look it over ?" said Mary. 
 
 " When we go in," said Frank ; " it is not seven 
 o'clock yet." 
 
 But time passed quickly while they -were gathering 
 flowers and dressing their arbour. It was nine o'clock, 
 and the breakfast-bell rang before they went in. Frank 
 had not a moment's time to look over his verb. 
 
 It was esse, to be, indicative mood, present tense. Frank 
 said over to himself, as he went along the passage to 
 his father's room, Sing, sum es est : plur. sumus estis 
 but for sunt he was obliged to look in the book.
 
 FRANK. 181 
 
 He felt sure that he had not his lesson perfectly well, 
 and he was unwilling to open the door of his father's 
 room. He was glad when he found that his father was 
 gone down stairs. A gentleman had come to breakfast 
 with him. " How lucky," thought Frank. No* it was 
 most unfortunate in the end for him ; because this sense 
 of escape made him more careless. 
 
 After breakfast, his father went out to ride with the 
 friend who had breakfasted with him ; and his last 
 words to Frank, as he left the breakfast-room, were* 
 " Frank, I shall have time to hear you say your Latin 
 verb when we return when I am dressing before 
 dinner. Take care that you learn it perfectly." 
 
 " Yes, papa," he replied, and he intended to go and 
 learn it directly ; he only just stayed to look at his father 
 and the gentleman mounting their horses, and to see 
 them go through the gate. Then he went to his 
 mother's room, where Mary was soon settled at her 
 work; and he stood with his Latin grammar in his 
 hand. But, though his eyes were upon the book, and 
 though his lips pronounced 
 
 Preferimperfect : eratn, eras, erat ; eramus, eratis, erant,, 
 his thoughts were upon a little horse, with a long tail, 
 which he hoped his father would buy for him. Theri 
 recollecting himself, he went on to 
 
 Preterperfect : fui, fuisti,fuit; /uimus,fuistis,fuerunt 
 velfuere. 
 
 But, between this and the preterpluperfect, came a 
 vision of a saddle and bridle. The idea of various 
 pleasant rides he might take with his father disturbed 
 him many times in his progress through the potential 
 mood. 
 
 Mary had completely finished all her morning lessons 
 before he came to the participle future in rus. 
 
 His mother was going out to plant some flowers in 
 her garden. Before she went, she offered to hear Frank 
 say his lesson. He tried to say it, but he made half a 
 dozen mistakes ; he was sure he should have it, how- 
 ever, before she returned. 
 
 Mary would not go out without him, and took up a 
 book to amuse herself till he should be ready. 
 
 He went on, dividing his attention between his gram- 
 mar, which lay upon a chair, and Mary, who sat at a 
 table at some distance. 
 
 " Imperative mood, present tense : sis, es 9 etto t I cannot 
 16
 
 182 PRANK. 
 
 conceive what is the matter with me this morning, that 
 I cannot get this by heart. Mary, what's that beautiful 
 book you have there T" 
 
 "Cowper's Poems," said Mary. "I am looking at 
 the prints." 
 
 " Plural, simus, silts, este, estate. What is this ?" said 
 he, looking over her. " ' Verses, supposed to have been 
 written by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary abode 
 in the island.' How very extraordinary I Do you know, 
 my dear Mary, I was just thinking that I would play at 
 Robinson Crusoe when I went out." 
 
 " Well, make haste, then, and come out," said Mary. 
 
 " Simus, sitis, este, estote, sint, sunto. But let me look 
 at Robinson Crusoe's verses," said Frank ; and he read 
 them. 
 
 " I'm the monarch of all I surrey, 
 
 My right there is none to dispute ; 
 From the centre, all round to the sea, 
 I am lord of the fowl and the brute." 
 
 "My dear Frank, do get your lesson," interrupted 
 Mary. 
 
 " Well, I am getting it," said Frank, running back to 
 his book. 
 
 " Potential mood : sim, sis, sit ; simus, sitis, sint." Then 
 again to the verses : 
 
 "I am out of humanity's reach ; 
 
 I must finish my journey alone ; 
 Never hear the sweet music of speech ; 
 I start at the sound of my own." 
 
 " Preterimperfect : essem, esses, esset ; essemus, essetts, 
 essent. What is that, Mary, about the death of a bull- 
 finch, killed by a rat?" 
 
 " And Bully's cage, supported, stood, 
 On props of smoothest shaven wood, 
 Large built, and latticed well." 
 
 As Mary was curious to know what happened to 
 Bully, she let him read on. And full a quarter of an 
 hour was spent upon the dream that disturbed poor 
 Bully's rest. Nor was it till he came to something 
 about the bacchanalians, which they neither of them 
 understood, that she begged him again to go to his lesson. 
 
 " Preterplvperfect," said he, running back to the chair, 
 and glancing his eye upon the book ; " fuissem, fuisses, 
 fuisset ; fuissemus,fuisselis,fuissunl."
 
 FRANK. 183 
 
 He did not look long enough to see that he should 
 have said fuissent. 
 
 " Now I have it really quite perfect," concluded he, 
 " and I will say it the moment my mother comes in. 
 What is this about a parrot 1" 
 
 He turned over the book from one thing to another, 
 reading bits here and there. " Oh, Mary ! look at these 
 lines On the receipt of my mother 's picture." 
 
 " But what is this in prose ?" said Mary, peeping be- 
 tween the leaves in another place, while Frank read on 
 about " My Mother's Picture." 
 
 " What is this, Frank, about three hares ; Puss, Tiney, 
 and Bess ?" 
 
 Frank turned to it, and began to read it with great de- 
 light. He had just come to the introduction of a hare 
 to a spaniel that had never seen a spaniel, and of a 
 spaniel to a hare that had never seen a hare, when his 
 mother returned. She had come in on purpose to hear 
 him say his lesson. But his head was so full of the hares, 
 the parrot, the bullfinch, and " My Mother's Picture," 
 that he could not get beyond the imperative mood. 
 Ashamed, he took back the book, which his mother re- 
 turned to him. 
 
 " What can you have been doing, Frank, all this time V 
 said she. 
 
 He told her what they had been reading ; and indeed 
 had a great mind to read the lines about " My Mother" 
 over again to her. He assured her that if she would 
 only just let him read them it would put them out of his 
 head, and then he should be able to mind better his 
 verb. She refused, however, to listen to his reading, 
 and advised him to go away from these books and from 
 Mary, and to learn his verb in his own room, where 
 there was nothing to distract his attention. 
 
 " No, mamma, I think I had better learn it in the 
 room* with you, because you know it is right to be able 
 to do things in the room with other people." 
 
 " If you can, Frank," said his mother. She desired 
 Mary to go out. Mary went out ; and his mother sat 
 down to write a letter, telling Frank that when she had 
 finished it she would hear his lesson again. He looked 
 it over, and in a few minutes his book came across the 
 paper on which she was writing. 
 
 " Be so good, mamma, as to hear me now." 
 
 " Frank, you cannot have learned it well in this time.
 
 184 FRANK. 
 
 Look it over again ; remember, this is the third and last 
 time of my hearing it for you." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, but I am sure I have it perfectly." 
 
 No such thing : he could not recollect the future tense. 
 He grew very red ; he was much provoked with himself 
 and with his grammar. He looked out of the window 
 to see what Mary was doing. She was lingering near 
 the house, waiting for him. Soon he knocked at the 
 window, and beckoned to her, and begged her to come 
 in and hear him say his verb once more. The future 
 tense was right this time; but he could not get through 
 the imperative mood without many mistakes. 
 
 " Well, well, Mary," cried he, " that does not signify ; 
 I have it perfect all but that, and I shall remember it, I 
 am sure, when I have been out and refreshed my 
 memory." 
 
 " You had better look it over once more," argued 
 Mary. 
 
 His mother gave him the same advice. 
 
 " And I will stay and hear you again," said Mary. 
 
 No ; Frank now declared he was sure that saying it 
 over and over so often to his mother and Mary only 
 puzzled him, and that he could not learn it any better 
 till after he had been out. As Mary was also eager to 
 go to finish their bower, she did not urge her good ad- 
 vice farther, and out they went. 
 
 " Now, my dear," said Frank, " I will tell you my 
 grand scheme, which has been running in my head all 
 the morning. We must remove your bower to my Rob- 
 inson Crusoe's island." 
 
 Mary in vain objected that it would take a great deal 
 of time to remove the bower, and that she thought it 
 was better where it was, in her garden, than in a desert 
 island. Frank's heart was fixed upon this scheme. 
 He assured her that it would soon be accomplished if 
 she would help him, and work hard. She helped him, 
 and they worked hard ; and in two hours time the 
 branches of hawthorn were dragged to Robinson Cru- 
 soe's island. The new bower was completed. Frank 
 then returned to the house, intending to look over his 
 verb again. But a new project occurred ; he must have 
 Robinson Crusoe's parrot in Robinson Crusoe's bower. 
 
 With some difficulty, and after a quarter of an hour 
 spent in entreaty, he prevailed on the housekeeper to 
 lend him her parrot, and to let him carry Poll, in its
 
 FRANK. 185 
 
 cage, out to his desert island. And when, after many 
 times changing its place, Poll was fixed in the best sit- 
 uation in the bower, Frank wanted to teach her to cry 
 Robinson Crusoe, while Poll would say nothing but 
 " Good boy, Frank ;" a phrase which Frank had formerly 
 taught her, with the help of many lumps of sugar. 
 Many more were now spent in trying to make her 
 change " Good boy, Frank,' 1 '' into " Robinson Crusoe" in. 
 vain. 
 
 " Poll will say it to-morrow, perhaps," said Mary. 
 
 But Frank persisted that she must say it to-day, be- 
 cause it would surprise papa and mamma, and delight 
 them so much when they came to drink tea here, in 
 Robinson Crusoe's island. 
 
 " There ! there !" exclaimed Mary ; " did you hear 
 that?" 
 
 " What I" said Frank. 
 
 " The dressing-bell." 
 
 " Impossible, my dear ; it was only a bell in your 
 ears." 
 
 Mary ran home to inquire whether she was right or 
 wrong, and presently returned with the assurance that 
 she was quite right. It was the dressing-bell ; and she 
 earnestly begged Frank would come in now and look 
 over his lesson. 
 
 " This instant ; only let me stay till Poll has said her 
 lesson. She is just going to say it, I know by the look 
 of her head, all on one side." 
 
 Poll sat mute ; Frank presented his last bit of sugar, 
 and commanded her to say Robinson Crusoe ; she an- 
 swered with her tiresome " Good boy, Frank." He 
 suddenly withdrew the sugar, and she, pursuing it with 
 her beak, sharply bit his finger. Provoked with the 
 parrot, and not well pleased with himself, he slowly 
 followed Mary homeward. He was longer than usual 
 dressing, because the finger which Poll had bitten was 
 disabled, so that he could hardly button his clothes ; 
 and, when he came to look over his verb, the pain dis- 
 tracted his attention at least, so Mary supposed, for he 
 could not say it when she heard him. 
 
 " You always make the same mistake," said she. 
 " You say essunt instead of essent." 
 
 " Well, let me go on ; you put me out, Mary. Don't 
 tell me next time don't tell me." 
 
 She did not tell him, and he could not go on. He 
 16*
 
 186 FRANK. 
 
 desired to be told ; and Oh, how hard it is to satisfy a 
 person who is not satisfied with himself! he then de- 
 clared he was just going to say it, if she had not told 
 him ; and the next lime she corrected a mistake that 
 he made in the participles, he was sure she was wrong, 
 and told her so rather roughly. 
 
 " Nay, Frank, when I have the book before my eyes : 
 do you think I cannot read ?" said Mary. 
 
 He snatched the book from her hand, and saw that 
 he was wrong. He could not go on : in a passion, he 
 threw himself on the ground, and rolled on the carpet, 
 declaring he could not and would not learn this horribly 
 difficult verb. 
 
 But at this instant the sound of horses' feet was heard. 
 Frank started up, forgot his passion and the parrot's 
 bite, seized the grammar, which he had thrown far from 
 him, and would have given up parrot, and arbour, and 
 island, and all, for five minutes more time. 
 
 " Perhaps," thought he, " my father may not hear me 
 before dinner;" but his fathers voice called, " Frank!'' 
 He went into his father's room, and Mary waited in the 
 passage ; she was afraid for him. 
 
 He stayed much longer than usual. 
 
 At last, when he came out, Mary saw by his face that 
 something was very much the matter. 
 
 " Oh," said she, " I knew the day of disgrace would 
 come." 
 
 He passed by her quickly, and, sitting down upon the 
 stairs, burst out crying 
 
 " Day of disgrace, indeed ! Oh, Mary ! Mary ! my 
 father is very very very much " 
 
 Displeased was the word he could not say, but Mary 
 understood it too well. 
 
 " What did he say, Frank, my dear ?" 
 
 " He said that I am spoiled that I am grown idle and 
 good for nothing: and it is very true : and he will not 
 teach me any more. I am to go to school directly, on 
 Monday. Oh, Mary, to leave home in disgrace !" 
 
 Frank sobbed as if his heart would break, and Mary 
 stood quite silent. The dinner-bell rang, and it was 
 necessary to go to dinner, and there was to be that 
 stranger gentleman. Frank suddenly rubbed away 
 his tears, and Mary, standing on the step above him, 
 smoothed down his hair on his forehead. Frank took 
 his place at table, and, as he happened to sit with his
 
 FRANK. 187 
 
 back to the light, his red eyebrows were not much seen, 
 and the stranger did not immediately perceive that he 
 was in wo or disgrace. 
 
 " Young gentleman," said he, " you shortened our 
 ride this morning ; and, I can tell you, there are very 
 few fathers who would shorten their morning's ride for 
 the sake of hearing their son's Latin lesson." 
 
 Frank, in much confusion, ate his bread as fast as he 
 could, without attempting to speak. 
 
 " It is very well for boys," continued the gentleman, 
 who was helping the soup, and who had not yet attended 
 to Frank's countenance, " very happy, indeed, for boys 
 who can be got through the Latin grammar without my 
 assistance. Perhaps you do not know that my name is 
 Birch." 
 
 Still there was silence. Frank could not speak, but 
 Mary answered for him, " No, sir." 
 
 " And, perhaps," continued he, " you are such happy 
 children, that you do not even know why the name of 
 Birch should make you tremble." 
 
 The gentleman paused, for now, for the first time, he 
 observed Frank's countenance, and he saw that he was 
 struggling hard to prevent himself from crying. He 
 was a good-natured man, and immediately he changed 
 the subject of his conversation ; and, no longer advert- 
 ing to Frank, talked to his father and mother. 
 
 Colonel Birch, for that was the gentleman's name, 
 was an old friend of his father's : he had just returned 
 from the army on the Continent; and he told many 
 entertaining stories of the siege of Badajos, and of the 
 battle of Waterloo ; but nothing could entertain Frank. 
 He watched his father's countenance, and scarcely 
 heard or understood any thing that was said, till Colo- 
 nel Birch related an anecdote of a dog he had with him, 
 which had saved his master's life when he had been left, 
 wounded and helpless, lying among the dead, after a 
 battle. 
 
 Frank remembered just such another story, and he 
 began to tell it. 
 
 " Oh, papa, you know the dog " But his father 
 did not listen to him ; and Frank, recollecting that he 
 was in disgrace, stopped short, and, to hide his confu- 
 sion, leaned down upon the colonel's dog. The good 
 creature stood quite still, though Frank's arm round his
 
 188 FRANK. 
 
 neck was rather inconvenient to him, and though he 
 felt Frank's tears falling upon his head. 
 
 Frank, as soon as he could recover himself again 
 sufficiently to let his face appear above the tablecloth, 
 began to feed the dog with all that remained on his 
 plate. This, with good management, was an employ- 
 ment that lasted till dinner ended; and the very moment 
 after grace was said, Frank slid down from his chuir 
 and made his escape out of the room, Mary following 
 him quickly. 
 
 She sat quite silent beside him for a little while ; but 
 then, starting up, she ran for his Latin grammar, and 
 brought it to him, as he sat with his hands covering his 
 face, and with his elbows leaning on his knees. 
 
 " Frank ! my dear Frank, sitting this way will do us 
 no good," said Mary. " Look up ; had not you better 
 learn it now ?" 
 
 " No, my dear Mary, even that will do us no good 
 now. Papa will never hear it again he said so." 
 
 " Did he say so ? You must have made a mistake.'" 
 
 " No, Mary, it is too true." 
 
 " Tell me the very words he said." 
 
 " He said, ' Frank, I will never hear you say that verb 
 again. Frank, I warned you, and now ' it is all over !" 
 Here Frank's voice failed. 
 
 " Well, do not tell me any more. I am sorry I asked 
 you," said Mary. " What shall we do ? What can we 
 do?" 
 
 " Nothing can be done now," replied Frank, resuming 
 his former posture. 
 
 " Oh ! miserable May-day !" said Mary. " So happy, 
 too, as we expected to be this evening. And our ar- 
 bour, Frank ! There," continued she, looking out of 
 the window, " there I see papa and mamma, and the 
 good-natured man, and the dog, and all, going out to 
 walk ; and the birds singing so happily, and the flowers 
 so sweet and gay ; everybody and every thing happy 
 but ourselves!" 
 
 "And I keep you here, poor Mary ! Oh ! go out run 
 after them, and leave me," said Frank. 
 
 But Mary would not leave him in his day of disgrace. 
 
 At sunset they went out to their island, and to their 
 bower, to bring home poor Poll, who, as Frank recol- 
 lected, must be hungry, and should not be left there to 
 suffer for a fault of his Poll was sitting silent and
 
 FRANK. 189 
 
 moping, but the moment she saw Frank, she screamed 
 out something like " Robinson ! Robinson Crusoe .'" 
 
 " Ah ! all in vain now !" 
 
 The cage was lifted down from its happy place, and 
 the garlands in the bower were left to fade unseen. 
 Poll was carried home and restored to the housekeeper. 
 
 " So soon ! how is this, my dear Master Frank 1" the 
 good old housekeeper began "What; running away 
 from me without a word! What is the reason of this 1 ?" 
 
 Mary, turning back, shook her head sorrowfully, and 
 put her finger on her lips. The good housekeeper was 
 too discreet to inquire farther ; but, without speaking, 
 she made with her tongue against the roof of her mouth 
 certain well-known sounds of sorrow, surprise, and 
 commiseration. Then following Frank and Mary, she 
 called after them to .tell them that tea was ready, and 
 that their mother had asked where they were. 
 
 It was dusk when they went into the drawing-room, 
 and Frank's father and mother and Colonel Birch were 
 so eagerly engaged in conversation, that their entrance 
 at the green door was unnoticed. They sat down at 
 their own little table, at the farthest end of the room, 
 and began to eat their bread and milk, making no noise 
 with jug, cup, or plate. And in this their unusual silence 
 at their end of the room, Frank and Mary heard all that 
 was said at the other end. The conversation, as it was 
 about themselves, was interesting, though they did not 
 understand it all. 
 
 Colonel Birch was speaking when they first came in, 
 but what he said was never known clearly. It was lost 
 during the getting upon their chairs, and pouring out the 
 milk. Their mother's voice they heard distinctly, 
 though she sat with her back towards them, and spoke 
 in a very gentle tone. 
 
 " I am convinced," said she, " that going to a public 
 school will be of use to him ; but I wish only that he 
 should be better prepared before he leaves home." 
 
 " My dear madam," replied Colonel Birch, " take my 
 word for it, he will never learn the Latin grammar till 
 he goes to school, and if he do not learn it early he will 
 never know it well. I am, or at least I have been, half 
 my life a sad example of this truth. From mistaken kind- 
 ness of my poor mother, God bless and forgive her, 1 
 was allowed to be idle at home when I ought to have 
 been working at school : the end of it was, that I never
 
 190 PRANK. 
 
 learned Latin at home, was disgraced at college, lost 
 many opportunities of getting forward in life, went into 
 the army, because it was the only profession I could go 
 into ; thought I could do without Latin and Greek ; 
 found I was mistaken; was obliged to learn late what I 
 would not learn early in short, I cannot tell you how 
 much I have suffered, nor what difficulty and toil it has 
 been to me, since I became a man, to make up for what 
 I might have been made to learn with ease in the first 
 ten or twelve years of my life. Oh how often I have 
 wished that my Latin grammar had been well flogged 
 into me !" 
 
 " But why flogged into you !" said Frank's mother. 
 
 " Because, my dear madam, nothing else you see will 
 do. I was willing to make an exception in favour of 
 home-teaching in the hands of my friend here ; but 
 when he, even he, a father comme il y en a pen, with a 
 son comme il riy en a point, confesses that he cannot get 
 through the conjugation of the verb to be without the 
 aid of Birch, I say, the sooner you send the boy to school 
 the better." 
 
 Frank and Mary were very sorry they could not make 
 out the meaning of the French words in what Colonel 
 Birch had just said, but they went on listening to what 
 their father answered. 
 
 " As to the Latin verb, that is but a trifle in itself, and 
 it appears to me of little consequence whether Frank 
 learn the Latin grammar this year or next ; but it is of 
 the greatest consequence to my boy that he should 
 early learn habits of attention and application. If he 
 have not resolution enough to apply to what is disa- 
 greeable as well as to what is entertaining to him, he 
 will never be a great or good man." 
 
 " True," said Colonel Birch ; " and many clever boys 
 are spoiled for want of their parents knowing this truth. 
 A man must work hard to be any thing in this world. 
 If a boy is fondled and praised at home, and cried up for 
 every pretty thing he says and does, he will never be 
 able to go through the rough of life afterward among 
 his fellows, either at school or in the world. However, 
 your boy, certainly, is not spoiled yet ; he does not 
 seem to me at all conceited." 
 
 " I am afraid that Frank," said his mother, " has lately 
 become a little vain." 
 
 *' Not a little vain, not a little," said his father.
 
 41 FRANK. 191 
 
 " Mary," said Frank, in a low voice across their sup- 
 per-table, " papa does not know that I am here. Do you 
 think I ought to go out of the room ?" 
 
 " No, my dear, why should you ? Papa would say the 
 same if he knew you were here." 
 
 During this interruption, part of the conversation at 
 the tea-table was lost; but when Frank's conscience 
 again permitted him to attend, he heard his father say 
 
 " It was very well ; while Frank was a little child, to 
 indulge him in reading only entertaining things, to give 
 him a taste for literature. This point is gained ; Frank 
 has more knowledge than boys usually have at his age, 
 and is, I confess, a very promising, clever boy." 
 
 " Father," cried Frank, coming forward, " I believe 
 you do not know that I am here 1" 
 
 " An honest boy is here," said his father, putting his 
 hand upon Frank's head; " and we will not spoil him." 
 
 " No, it would be a sin such a boy should be spoiled," 
 said Colonel Birch, stroking Frank's head. 
 
 Frank slipped from under his hand, and ran out of the 
 room. Mary would have followed him, but he shut the 
 green door too quickly , and bolted it on the other side. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour he reappeared, with his Latin 
 grammar in one hand, and alighted bougie in the other; 
 and marching up to Colonel Birch with a firm step and 
 head erect 
 
 " Colonel Birch," said he, " will you be so good as to 
 hear me say this lesson ; and will you be so kind as to 
 come with me into another room, because my father 
 said that he would never hear me say this verb again." 
 
 Colonel Birch complied with his request, and, return- 
 ing presently, reported that Frank had gone through the 
 verb without missing one word. Mary clapped her 
 hands : and Frank's father was pleased at seeing that 
 he had conquered this the first difficulty he had ever had. 
 
 " I think, papa," resumed Frank, who now felt that 
 he might again join in the conversation, " I think, papa, 
 that a great deal of what you said about me is quite true, 
 especially what you said about my idleness ; and 1 dare 
 say it will be best that I should go to school ; but, papa, 
 do not -send me away from home in disgrace. Let me 
 try a little longer at home, as mamma said, till I am bet- 
 ter prepared. You shall see that now I can do what is 
 ever so disagreeable to me ; and I will get through the
 
 192 PRANK. 
 
 Latin grammar, now I am convinced it is so neces* 
 sary." 
 
 " I thought, Frank, that you were convinced before 
 How shall I be secure," said his father, " that you have 
 more resolution now than you had the last time I made 
 the trial ?" 
 
 " I was thinking of that, papa," said Frank, " and I 
 will tell you how I will make sure of myself. Mary, 
 here is the key of our bookcase ; I have put all our en- 
 tertaining books in it; and I will never read any of 
 them, I will never open that bookcase, till I have said 
 my lesson for the day, and learned the next day's lesson 
 too, till mamma says I have it perfectly ; and if I should 
 afterward miss saying it well to you, papa, I will not 
 read any entertaining book that day : not even Robin- 
 son Crusoe, which I long to finish ; and I will never go 
 out to play with Mary till I have my lesson ; and I will 
 never speak to her while I am learning it. Now, papa, 
 you shall see I know how to punish myself, and how to 
 manage myself, if you will but let me try." 
 
 His father consented. 
 
 " You shall make trial of yourself, Frank, for one 
 week longer," said he, " and, if you keep your resolu- 
 tion, and say your lesson rightly every day that week, 
 I will allow you another week's trial, and so on till the 
 time comes which I had originally fixed for sending 
 you to school." 
 
 Frank joyfully thanked his father. And we have the 
 
 Eleasure to assure all those who are interested about 
 im, that during this week, and the next, and the next, 
 and the next, he steadily kept his resolution ; and at the 
 end of a month his father was so well satisfied, that he 
 said " He had no longer any fear that his son should be 
 sent to school in disgrace. He rejoiced that Frank had 
 so far acquired the habit of application, and the power 
 of doing that which is necessary to be done, even 
 though it be a little difficult or disagreeable.*' 
 
 Colonel Birch, who spent this summer in the neigh- 
 bourhood, was pleased with Frank's resolution. 
 
 " I acknowledge," said he, one day, " this is better, 
 madam, than having the Latin grammar flogged into 
 him. A boy who has acquired this power over himself, 
 may turn it to whatever he pleases to learn ; and he 
 will, I do believe, get on without Dr. Birch."
 
 FRANK. 193 
 
 " I hope you see," said Frank, turning to his mother, 
 11 that you did not quite spoil me, mamma." 
 
 " After all," said Mary, " that one day's disgrace of 
 Ours has turned out happily for us. Oh! my dear 
 Frank," cried she, changing her tone, " look what comes 
 here !" 
 
 IT was a bright black horse, with along tail, just such 
 a horse as Frank had wished to possess. 
 
 " Now, Frank," said his father, " that I see you can 
 apply to what it is disagreeable to you to do, I will as- 
 sist you in what I know will be agreeable to you. I 
 will teach you to ride." 
 
 Frank clapped his hands. " Happy ! happy !" cried he. 
 
 " Every day that your Latin lesson is well said," cort- 
 tinued his father, " I will give you a lesson in riding." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, papa, and I will call my 
 horse Felix." 
 
 " Gently, Frank, I am not yet sure that I shall buy 
 this horse for you ; he is to be left with me for a month 
 on trial, and we shall see whether he is too spirited for 
 you, or you too spirited for him." 
 
 " What a pretty creature he is," said Mary. " I hope 
 he will not be too spirited for Frank." 
 
 " I hope I shall be too spirited for him," said Frank. 
 " May I get upon him now, papa t" 
 
 " No, my dear ; you must begin with the old pony 
 your brothers used to ride." 
 
 His mother observed that Frank was, she thought, so 
 young, that he was scarcely yet strong enough to man- 
 age even the old pony ; or, as Frank would call it, the 
 tame pony. 
 
 " But it is not strength that always wins, mamma," 
 said Frank ; " as our copybook says, ' Wisdom doth 
 strength excel.' " 
 
 " You are wisdom itself, no doubt," answered his 
 mother, smiling. " But," continued she, addressing her- 
 self to his father, " I remember that my brother, who 
 rides very well now he is a man, never was upon a 
 horse till he was almost twice as old as Frank. My fa- 
 ther used to be afraid of his acquiring too strong a taste 
 for riding, and of his wanting to go out scampering, as 
 he said, and fox-hunting, with all the young and old 
 idlers of the country. He thought that teaching a boy 
 I 17
 
 194 PRANK. 
 
 to ride when he is very young usually leads him into miV 
 chief. Is it necessary that Frank should ride so very 
 early ?" 
 
 " It is not necessary not essential," replied his fa- 
 ther; " but I think it will be useful to Frank, who has 
 not now the advantage of being with his brothers, or 
 with any other boys with whom he might learn those 
 exercises that make boys active and courageous ; when 
 he goes to school, and mixes with companions of his 
 own age, he should be equal to them in body as well as 
 in mind. Boys who have been carefully brought up at 
 home have often something effeminate or precise about 
 them ; perhaps they do not know how to leap, or to run, 
 or to ride ; for this they are laughed at by their school- 
 fellows, and they often get into mischief merely to 
 show that they are manly. Many a one has turned out 
 a mere fox-hunter, because he was not allowed to ride 
 when he was a boy, and because he was laughed at by 
 his companions for being subject to some prohibition 
 against horses. Frank's first pleasure in riding shall be 
 with his father, and not with some vulgar groom or 
 gamekeeper. Then, as he grows older, he will feel the 
 advantage of having acquired a good seat early upon a 
 horse. And he will not be liable to be either ridiculed 
 or flattered about his riding. He will enjoy the real 
 pleasure, I hope, as much as I do ; but he will not over- 
 value the accomplishment, or think it necessary to leap 
 seven-barred gates every day of his life, to prove that 
 he is a man, or that he is what boys call manly." 
 
 Frank, who had been patting and stroking the black 
 horse all the time his father had been speaking, looked 
 anxiously at his mother to see whether she was- con- 
 vinced ; and though he did not hear what she answered, 
 he knew by her countenance that she was quite satis- 
 fied, and so was he. 
 
 The old pony was now ordered out, and Frank was 
 mounted upon him, and the reins were put into his 
 hands. Frank's father led him about, and he liked it 
 very much ; but the next day he was to go by himself; 
 and before he had gone a hundred yards he was thrown 
 off, or rather he slipped off. He was not hurt, but he 
 was frightened, and seemed rather unwilling to mount 
 the pony again. 
 
 " Up again, my boy," said his father. 
 
 Frank scrambled up again upon the pony, and rode
 
 FRANK. 195 
 
 two. or three times round the field with his father, much 
 to his own delight and to Mary's, who stood watching 
 him. After he had learned to sit tolerably well in walk, 
 trot, and canter, his father put him upon the pony with- 
 out a saddle, with only a piece of cloth tied round the 
 horse, and without stirrups. And now he was to sit him 
 while the horse was rung. That is, while a man held 
 the horse by a long bridle, and made him go round and 
 round in a circle ; at first slow, then faster and faster, 
 then as fast as he could go. 
 
 The first day at the ring, Frank was off and up again 
 continually ; but, by degrees, he conquered this diffi- 
 culty ; and he soon sat so well in the ring that he al- 
 lowed Mary to come and look at him. 
 
 At first she used to hide her face in her hands, and 
 would call to the man to beg of him not to make the 
 horse go so fast. But Frank laughed, for he could 
 now laugh on horseback, and he felt that habit had 
 made that easy to him which had appeared alarming 
 at first. 
 
 And now he was ambitious to mount the little black 
 horse. 
 
 " Mary, now you may run to the window ; Felix is 
 brought out ; I am just going to try him," said Frank. 
 
 Frank got up, but scarcely was he in his saddle set, 
 when Mary too hastily opening the window, the horse 
 gave a little start. Frank, frightened, pulled by mis- 
 take the curb rein very tight: immediately the horse 
 reared, and Frank slipped off behind. Mary foolishly 
 screamed, and the horse set out, on full gallop, across 
 the lawn. 
 
 Frank stood upon his legs again unhurt, but looking 
 rather embarrassed. 
 
 Mary was exceedingly sorry for what she had done. 
 She was warned that she must never open a window 
 suddenly when anybody on horseback is near it. And 
 she was blamed for her want of presence of mind in 
 screaming, which Frank's father told her was the most 
 foolish thing she could possibly do in any danger. His 
 father observed, that if Frank would have waited a min- 
 ute to listen to his instructions about the bridles, when 
 first he mounted the horse, he would probably not have 
 made the mistake which caused the accident. 
 
 " But," said he, " upon the whole, I am glad it has 
 happened ; because I now see that the horse did not kick 
 J 2
 
 196 FRANK, 
 
 when you were upon the ground, and I shall have con- 
 fidence in him for the future." 
 
 Frank's confidence in Felix, however, seemed a little 
 diminished ; and when the servant, who had now caught 
 the horse, brought him to the door, Frank looked doubt- 
 fully at him. Mary, who was standing on the steps, ex- 
 claimed 
 
 " Oh, papa, do not let Frank get upon that horse again, 
 pray ! pray ! papa ! Pray do not, I am sure he will run 
 away with him." 
 
 " Mary, go in ; you must not make a coward of Frank," 
 said his father, in a commanding voice. " I must forbid 
 you, Mary, ever to come to these steps or to that win- 
 dow to see him mount on horseback." 
 
 " No, no, pray do not forbid her, papa ; she will not 
 make a coward of me. Look, I am up." 
 
 And as he spoke he seated himself with such deci- 
 sion, that his father saw he had completely conquered 
 his fear. 
 
 Now master of the reins and of himself, he rode off 
 with his father ; and if any farther apprehensions arose 
 again in the course of this day's ride from the unusual 
 pulling of the horse, these fears were at least well sub- 
 dued. 
 
 Mary's face was at the window when he returned, 
 but she took care not to open it. He came home quite 
 safely, and proudly patted his horse as he alighted. 
 Then he took off his glove, and showed Mary the palm 
 of his left hand, which was in one place quite raw and 
 bleeding, his hand having been cut by a stone when he 
 fell from the horse on the gravel-walk. 
 
 " Mamma, look ; was not he courageous," cried Mary, 
 " to ride that pulling horse with the reins in this bleed- 
 ing hand V 
 
 Frank observed that he believed bearing pain was 
 called only fortitude, not courage. 
 
 But his father allowed that he had also shown some 
 of that best sort of courage, which comes from the 
 mind. 
 
 In an hour's time his hand swelled and grew very 
 painful ; and his father desired that for some days, till it 
 should be quite recovered, he should ride the old pony, 
 and hold the reins in his right hand. 
 
 Frank was impatient for his hand to be well, that he 
 might again ride the black horse ; he felt pleasure in the
 
 PRANK. 197 
 
 hpc of conquering the difficulty, and was eager to risk 
 a little danger to prove that he was not a coward. But 
 the hand festered, and a week passed before it was well. 
 
 One morning his mother was so kind as to stop, even 
 in the midst of reading some letters she had just re- 
 ceived, to dress his hand. 
 
 He was surprised by Mary's not coming to look at the 
 dressing of his wounds, as it was her usual custom. 
 She was intent upon another subject. 
 
 " Mamma," said she, " have you finished with Frank's 
 hand!" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, and it is almost entirely well," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Then I may ask a question you were reading a let- 
 ter just now, mamma. Who was it from * And what 
 was it about, mammal" 
 
 " My dear Mary, it is not proper to ask people who 
 their letters are from, or what they are about." 
 
 " I did not know that, mamma ; 1 will not do it again," 
 said Mary. " I on]y asked because I thought it was 
 something about Frank, for you looked as if you were 
 considering." 
 
 " I was considering ; but it was nothing about Frank. 
 I was considering about the affairs of a man in Jamaica." 
 
 " Oh, if it is nothing about Frank," said Mary, " I do 
 not care. I did not guess right by your face, mamma, 
 this time." 
 
 " No ; but I must tell you another thing, Mary, which 
 you do not yet know." 
 
 " What, mamma ?" 
 
 " That you should not try to guess by my counte- 
 nance what my letters are about." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " No ; because they might be about something which 
 I do not choose to tell you." 
 
 " But I cannot help guessing whether it is good or 
 bad, when I look at you or anybody reading a letter, 
 mamma ; therefore, I suppose the belt way would be 
 indeed, the only good way must be not to look at you 
 at all. So, mamma, while you are reading the rest of 
 those letters or notes 1 will turn my back to you, and 
 go on with my own affairs, pasting my pocketbook : 
 though there is among those a note with very pretty- 
 coloured edged paper ; but. I believe I should not have 
 seen it, and I will not ask any thing about it, mamma." 
 17*
 
 198 PRANK. 
 
 Mary and Frank went on minding their own affairs, 
 till his mother called to them, and read the note with 
 the pretty-edged paper. 
 
 " Mrs. J 's compliments." 
 
 " And who is Mrs. J ?" interrupted Mary. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, the silly mother, that's her name, don't 
 you remember ?" cried F rank. 
 
 " Call her Mrs. J , Frank, I desire," said his moth- 
 er. " This note is to invite us to dinner on Thursday, 
 and you and Mary are particularly asked to meet some 
 young people." 
 
 " Thursday is the last day of Master Tom's holy- 
 days," cried Frank ; " he told me so the morning we 
 went there, mamma. But I do not want to see him 
 again, for I do not like him much." 
 
 " But you cannot, in this world, see only the people 
 you like, Frank ; besides, you have not seen enough to 
 know whether you ought to like him or not ; and, at all 
 events, it will be good for you to see boys of different 
 sorts before you go to school." 
 
 Frank and Mary went with their mother to dine with 
 
 Mrs. J . The young people who had been expected 
 
 did not come. Mrs. J made many apologies ; she 
 
 had been disappointed by every one she had no com- 
 pany but themselves. 
 
 Before Frank had been in the room with Master Tom 
 many minutes, Tom pulled him by the sleeve, as a sign 
 that he wanted to speak to him without being heard by 
 his mother. 
 
 " This was to have been my hanging-day," said Tom ; 
 " but I have got off." 
 , " Hanging-day," said Frank ; " what can you mean ?" 
 
 " Why you, that have never been at our school, there 
 is no talking to you," replied Tom ; " you cannot under- 
 stand trap.'''' 
 
 Frank did not yet understand even what was meant 
 by trap. 
 
 " In plain English then, since nothing else will do for 
 you, we call hanging-day the day before we go to 
 school; but I have got off; I am not to go to school 
 again to that school, at least." 
 
 Tom could explain no farther, for dinner was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 The fact was, that Mrs. J had been ashamed of 
 
 her son's vulgar manner of speaking and behaving, es
 
 FRANK. 199 
 
 pecially that morning when she paid her first visit to 
 Frank's mother ; and Tom, taking advantage of this, 
 persuaded her that " it was all the fault of the school," 
 and prevailed upon his mamma not to send him there 
 again. 
 
 She said she was now determined to put Tom to a 
 school where manners should be the prime considera- 
 tion she would spare no expense to make him quite a 
 gentleman. 
 
 In the meantime he was suffered to behave like what 
 his mother continually told him that he was, " quite a 
 little bear." 
 
 At dinner he paid no attention to any thing that pass- 
 ed in conversation; he was thinking of nothing but get- 
 ting what he liked best to eat, which he devoured as 
 fast as possible ; he then fidgeted, called all the ser- 
 vants, and looked sulky and injured till he had some- 
 thing more. 
 
 He had a number of dislikes : he told his mamma he 
 could not bear could not touch several things, which 
 she offered to put on his plate. 
 
 During dinner his mother talked to him, and of him, 
 at different times, nearly in the following manner : 
 
 " My dear Tom, how you do eat : you are positively 
 quite a little epicure absolutely a little cormorant !" 
 
 " But," turning to Frank's father and mother, " they 
 do make children so fond of eating at those schools, by 
 not giving them good things constantly. I cannot bear 
 to see children gormandize ; but for the little time poor 
 Tom is to be at home with me, it cannot signify, you 
 know, ma'am." 
 
 " So, Tom, you are very fond, are you, of being at 
 home with mamma V 
 
 Not a word in answer from Tom, but a large piece 
 put into his mouth. 
 
 " Well, but sit up, my dear ; you are quite a bear. 
 Ma'am, you must know he has wheedled me into letting 
 him stay a little longer at home indeed !" added she 
 in a whisper, " he is- the most affectionate creature, 
 though his manner is so shy. But put down your knife, 
 my dear, do pray. Excuse him, sir, he is in such 
 spirits to-day, he does not mind what anybody says to 
 him. But Tom ! Tom ! you forget Miss Mary and Mas- 
 ter Frank. Pray let me see you think of your young 
 friends. But indeed, ma'am, these schools do make
 
 200 PRANK. 
 
 such terrible great bears of one's boys worse than they 
 naturally are. All boys are naturally little bears, you 
 know. Master Frank, indeed, is an exception ; for he 
 looks as if he had never been a little bear, and I am 
 sure he never was and never will be one. But he has 
 a very small appetite, ma'am. Won't you take some- 
 thing more, my dear ? do. Before he goes to school, 
 you should indulge him in getting what he likes, and as 
 much as he pleases ; for, as Tom can tell him, he 
 won't find any of these good things at school. Hey, 
 Tom !" 
 
 Frank had eaten what he liked, and as much as he 
 liked, which he was usually allowed to do : and he was 
 fond of sweet things, as children naturally are ; but 
 they had not been made rewards to him, or proofs of 
 kindness ; and he had not been made to think eating a 
 matter of such great consequence as it appeared to Mrs. 
 J and to Master Tom. 
 
 After dinner Tom was at his mamma's elbow " for 
 his glass of wine." This day it was to be a bumper, 
 because there was company. 
 
 " True, my dear, because you must drink all the com- 
 pany's health, and Master Frank's in particular." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, that's not a fair bumper yet," said 
 Tom. 
 
 " Well, now, my dear, there's a fair bumper for you 
 quite a man's bumper. I will treat you like a man 
 and a gentleman to-day, because, Tom, .you were very 
 good to-day in not swinging on my Chinese gate, which 
 is the only thing, you know, I forbid ay, you remem- 
 ber ! you lost your wine once by that. Oh, I am very 
 strict, ma'am, sometimes ; pray give me credit. But 
 Tom ! how you tossed it down without recollecting all 
 the healths I'm quite ashamed." 
 
 Tom, with his head back as far as it could be thrown, 
 was, in spite of his mother's shame, trying if a drop 
 more could not be had from the bottom of the glass. 
 
 His mother observed " that it was very odd Tom 
 had learned to like wine so, for she could remember 
 the time when he could not bear the taste of it. But, 
 my dear Master Frank, you must get your bumper too 
 mamma will allow you a bumper this once to-day, 
 I am sure." 
 
 But Frank happened not to like the taste of wine, and 
 he ad not beou made to like it by its being given to
 
 PRANK. 201 
 
 him as a reward or an indulgence, or a proof of his be- 
 ing treated as a man and a gentleman. 
 
 He thanked Mrs. J , but he drew back his glass as 
 
 she was going to fill it : he said he would rather not 
 have any wine. 
 
 " Oh, but you must drink your friend Tom's health." 
 
 Tom's friend ! he is not Tom's friend, thought Mary. 
 
 So Frank thought; and, besides, he did not know 
 what good it would do him to drink his health, even if 
 he were his friend. 
 
 " Oh, if you don't like it. my dear, I wo'n't insist ; be 
 cause it might make you sick, if you are not used to 
 it, to be sure," said Mrs. J . 
 
 " Mother, do help the strawberries," said Tom, " and 
 give me plenty, mamma and that big one," whispered 
 he, kissing her. 
 
 " When it comes to your turn, my darling ; but we 
 must not think only of number one when there's com- 
 pany, Tom." 
 
 " Mamma, where is your ear," said Tom, putting his 
 mouth close to it and whispering " That's the reason 
 I hate company." 
 
 This observation made his mother laugh, and she 
 seemed to think it very witty ; but she said it was a 
 secret, and she would keep his secret. She heaped up 
 a plate of fruit for him, and bid him eat it, and hold his 
 dear little tongue. But Tom, having swallowed his 
 man's bumper, became as talkative as he had before 
 been silent. And Frank and Mary felt ashamed for him, 
 he now talked so loud and such nonsense ! And it was 
 all about himself or his schoolmaster : he told of what 
 clever tricks he played at school, and how he hated 
 his schoolmaster, and how glad he was he had done 
 with him, and he would never go to any school again 
 if he could help it. 
 
 " Now, Tom, you are getting vastly too loud, and we 
 can't bear it ; and you must go out. No, my sweet 
 love, no more of any thing ; and you are dragging my 
 head off with your kisses. Go, now, go out and play, 
 I insist. Take Master Frank and Miss Mary out, and 
 show them the place, there's a dear boy." Then turn- 
 ing to Frank's father and mother, she added, " He is so 
 fond of me there's no getting him out of the room." 
 
 But she put him out at last, because, as she truly- 
 said, " there was no bearing him any longer." Frank 
 13
 
 202 PRANK. 
 
 and Mary followed, because they were desired to do'so. 
 They did not much like to go with Tom : however, they 
 were glad to be in the fresh air, and to run about in the 
 pretty shrubbery. Mary liked to look at some white 
 rabbits, which Tom said were his mamma's great pels ; 
 but Mary could not bear to see the manner in which 
 Tom teased and frightened them ; he called it good fun. 
 When she turned away he dragged Frank on, and said, 
 " You will be laughed at finely at school if you play 
 with girls. Come, come on, and leave her behind let 
 her find her own way." 
 
 " No," said Frank, stopping short ; " I will wait for 
 Mary." 
 
 Tom could not pull him on till Mary came up. They 
 were now within sight of a gate that opened into a new 
 part of the pleasure-ground. 
 
 " That's the Chinese gate," said Tom, " and I will 
 have a swing upon it." 
 
 Frank asked if this was not the gate his mother de- 
 sired that he would not swing upon. 
 
 " Yes ; but what signifies," said he, " I sha'n't break 
 it." 
 
 Frank tried to hold him 'back, saying, " Oh, do not, 
 do not." 
 
 But Tom jumped upon the gate, crying, " What a 
 coward you are ! Did you never swing upon a gate in 
 your life it's the best fun ; but you don't know what 
 fun is, never having been at school, and only with girls, 
 you are so afraid of every thing." 
 
 " No," said Frank, " I am not afraid of every thing, I 
 am only afraid of doing wrong." 
 
 " A fine come off ; but I'll tell you what you're afraid 
 of you are afraid of hurting your sore hand there, after 
 your tumble off the pony." 
 
 " Oh, no, no," said Mary. 
 
 Tom set the gate swinging ; " Now," said he, " are 
 you really such a quiz, then, as to think there's any 
 harm in swinging on a gate V 
 
 " No," said Frank, " I do not think there is any harm 
 in swinging on a gate ; but I think it is wrong for you 
 to swing on that gate, because your mother desired you 
 not to do it." 
 
 " Nonsense !" 
 
 " Come, Frank," said Mary, " let us go back to the 
 bouec ; I know the way."
 
 PRANK. 203 
 
 "You'll tell of me I suppose." 
 
 " I shall not say any thing about you," said Frank, 
 "unless I am asked." 
 
 " And if you are asked, what will you say ?" said 
 Tom. 
 
 " The truth, to be sure," said Frank. 
 
 " Then you will be a telltale," said Tom, " oh, if I 
 had known what sort of a fellow you were, I would 
 never have trusted you," added Tom, getting off the 
 gate. " You'll never do at school you'll be sent to 
 Coventry." 
 
 " I don't know what that means," said Frank, " but I 
 hope I shall be able to bear it, whatever it is." 
 
 " Mighty grand !" said Tom, " and all about a gate ! 
 What signifies talking any more about such a thing." 
 
 " I don't mean to talk any more about it," said Frank. 
 
 " Therefore come away," said Mary ; and Frank and 
 Mary went towards the house. 
 
 " Very civil indeed," cried Tom, running after them, 
 and overtaking them, " very civil, indeed, to go off and 
 leave me alone; you, who are so polite too, which 
 mamma's always twilling me with." 
 
 Mary and Frank were summoned to the tea-table the 
 moment after they went in, and Tom's mouth was soon 
 full of plumcake. 
 
 But while his mother was setting before him all that 
 he wanted, and more than he could want, she suddenly 
 changed countenance. 
 
 " So, Tom, you have actually been on my gate again, 
 in spite of all ! You are very ungrateful, Tom, after 
 all." 
 
 " But who told you so, ma'am V said Tom. 
 
 " My own eyes, sir. What's this 1" said his mother, 
 angrily, as she held up and brought opposite to his eyes 
 the flap of his coat, which was streaked with white 
 paint from the freshly-painted gate. " What's this, 
 Tom ?" 
 
 " Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies !" 
 said Tom, turning off abruptly ; and, snatching the coat 
 from his mother's hands, he got away, and ran out of the 
 room, clapping the door after him. 
 
 " He's off; that's the way he always gets off," said 
 his mother; and glancing her eye at Frank's coat she 
 added, " 1 hope, Master Frank, you have not been ruin- 
 ing your coat too ?"
 
 804 PRANK. 
 
 Frank stood quite still and said nothing, while she ex- 
 amined him from head to foot. 
 
 " You have escaped wonderfully," said she. 
 
 " He never touched the gate, ma'am," said Mary. 
 
 " No !" said Mrs. J ; "was not he swinging !" 
 
 " No, ma'am," said Mary, " he was not." 
 
 " Say no more, Mary," said Frank ; " papa and mam- 
 ma never thought I was, I am sure." 
 
 His mother smiled, and assured him that she never 
 had suspected him. 
 
 "Then he is really a wonderfully good boy," said 
 Mrs. J . 
 
 Nothing so very wonderful, thought Frank. 
 
 " Now really he is an admirable creature. Does the 
 cake make you sick, love 1 ? I'm sure there's something 
 in it you don't like. Don't eat it, put it away, my pet, 
 if you don't like it." 
 
 There was certainly something Frank did not like ; 
 but it was not the cake, for that he finished eating. 
 
 " But now, pray, my dear Master Frank, how was it 
 hat Tom got on the gate after all I said or did he get 
 upon it ; for perhaps I have done him great injustice, 
 and he has a high spirit how was it ?" 
 
 Frank said that if he had done any thing wrong him- 
 self he would tell it ; but that he begged she would not 
 ask him any more questions. 
 
 Their carriage came to the door, they took leave, 
 drove away, and what happened afterward they never 
 knew. 
 
 Frank's mother said that they had now seen quite 
 enough of Master Tom to be convinced that he could 
 never be a fit friend or desirable companion for Frank. 
 His father was of the same opinion, and Frank and 
 Mary were glad. 
 
 " This shows," added his father, " how disagreeable 
 and good for nothing a little boy may be early made by 
 a vulgar school, and by being spoiled at home. Tom is 
 an example, such as you never saw before, and, I hope, 
 will seldom see again, of a disagreeable, selfish, vulgar, 
 spoiled schoolboy. But you must not think that all 
 schoolboys are like him. As soon as we have oppor- 
 tunities, you shall see others."
 
 FRANK. 205 
 
 IT happened the first day when Frank's hand was re- 
 covered, and when he was mounted on Felix his reins 
 right, his feet well in the stirrups, his seat firm, the sun 
 shining, and all promising a pleasant ride just as they 
 were going to set out, that his father saw three persons 
 on horseback coming up the approach. 
 
 " Oh, it is all over with our ride, I am afraid," said 
 Frank ; " who are these people ] One is a little boy 
 Master Tom, papa. His visit will be no great pleasure 
 to you, papa. Nor to me, if I am to lose my ride." 
 
 " Nor to me," said Mary, who was standing with her 
 weed-basket in her hand on the grass-plot beside them, 
 " excepting for one reason, mamma : I am glad he 
 should see Frank on horseback, because he seemed to 
 think that Frank could not run, or ride, or do any of 
 those sort of things. Now Frank can show him." 
 
 " Mary ! Mary ! do not make me show off again," 
 said Frank. "But who are those men along with 
 him V 
 
 One was a groom belonging to Master Tom's mother ; 
 the other was the horse-dealer, who had left the black 
 horse with Frank's father on a month's trial, and who 
 had engaged to sell the horse to him at the end of that 
 time for a certain price, if he should be approved. But, 
 in the meanwhile, this man had been applied to by 
 Master Tom's mother, for a horse for Tom ; and he 
 found that he could have gained from that lady some 
 guineas moire than he had engaged to sell it for to 
 Frank's father ; he was therefore in hopes that it would 
 be found too spirited for Frank, and that it would be re- 
 turned to him this day, which was the last of the 
 month's trial. Master Tom was exceedingly anxious to 
 have the horse, and he was in great hopes of it ; be- 
 cause his friend, the groom, had told him he had seen 
 Frank riding the old pony several days. Tom was 
 rather surprised when he saw Frank upon the black 
 horse, and, as it appeared, sitting at his ease. 
 
 " What, are you got upon Blacky V said Tom, begin- 
 ning to talk to Frank, while the horse-dealer was speak- 
 ing to Frank's father ; " 1 thought you told me you did 
 not know how to ride when I was here before." 
 
 " 1 did not then, but my father has been teaching me 
 since that time," said Frank. 
 
 " Your father ! What a bore, to be taught to ride by 
 18
 
 206 FRAtfK. 
 
 one's father : I had much better fun. The groom here, 
 Jack, taught me." 
 
 " Ay, that I did, sir," said the groom, riding up close 
 to his young master ; " and for a rider of his inches, I'd 
 pit him against any young gentleman in England, or the 
 'varsal world, I say. Master Frank, sir, your reins is 
 too long ; give me leave to put 'em right," added the 
 groom, alighting " I'll show you." 
 
 " No, thank you," said Frank, " my father will put 
 them right if they are wrong my father teaches me." 
 
 And so saying, Frank went to the other side of his 
 father ; Tom followed him ; and, while his father contin- 
 ued listening to the horse-dealer, Tom went on talking 
 to Frank ; telling him that he had heard Blacky, as he 
 called the black horse, was much too spirited for one 
 who was not used to riding ; he wondered, he said, that 
 he was trusted upon such a creature ; he was sure that 
 he would not, if he knew as much of it as some people 
 could tell him. 
 
 Frank anxiously asked what ? 
 
 Tom, who was meanly cunning, as stupid boys and 
 stupid men often are, began to try to frighten him with 
 stories of Blacky's having reared, and run away, and 
 kicked ; and when he saw Frank look a little alarmed, 
 advised him, if it was left to his choice, not to have this 
 horse, but to stick to the tame pony, and to wait till the 
 horse-dealer could find him something that would suit 
 him. " Or," said he, " I could let you have this which I 
 am riding, which is as gentle as a lamb, and I could take 
 Blacky, because I am used to riding, and don't mind its 
 tricks." 
 
 Frank's father, having heard all that the horse-dealer 
 had to say, now turned to Frank, and told him that he 
 might decide for himself whether he wished to keep the 
 horse or not. 
 
 " Thank you, papa," said Frank, " but I do not know 
 any thing about horses, and I would rather that you 
 would decide for me." 
 
 Then Frank repeated what Master Tom had just told 
 of Felix's tricks, and asked whether his father had heard 
 of these. 
 
 " No," his father answered, the horse-dealer had for- 
 merly assured him that he had no tricks ; and he had, 
 during this month's trial, found Felix perfectly good- 
 tempered, though spirited. 
 
 " So, Frank," said his father, " the^fuestion is, whether
 
 FRANK. 207 
 
 you are or are not afraid to ride it ? I am not afraid for 
 you." 
 
 " Nor I am not afraid for myself," said Frank ; " I 
 wish to keep Felix." 
 
 " Then you shall have him Felix is yours." 
 L Frank thanked his father and patted Felix. " He is 
 too cheap, that is certain," said the horse-dealer ; " for 
 he is as fine a leaper as any in the country. Take care, 
 Master Frank, if you are not used to leaping ; take care 
 that he does not throw you clean over his head." 
 
 Frank did not like the idea of being thrown clean over 
 his head. Tom saw this, and said sneeringly, in a low 
 voice, 
 
 " Did you see how white he grew 1" 
 
 Just at this time Felix, from some huicy, the cause of 
 which was not perceived by Frank, suddenly gathered 
 himself up, and leaped over a sunk fence, which there 
 was in the lawn, near the place where they were standing. 
 
 Frank was thrown " clean over his head," but falling 
 on the new-mown grass, was not hurt. Tom burst into 
 a stupid, brutal laugh. The horse-dealer pretended to 
 be much concerned, and repeated, that he was afraid 
 Blacky would be too much for Master Frank, and went 
 to help him up : but Frank was on his legs again with- 
 out his assistance. 
 
 " It was unfair not to give you notice, my boy," said 
 his father ; " but never mind, you will do better the next 
 time. Have you a mind to try again V 
 
 " That I have," said Frank, " if you will show me how 
 to do better." 
 
 " Mount him again, then." 
 
 Frank was in the saddle in an instant ; his father told 
 him how he should sit when the horse should begin and 
 end his leap. Then, turning to the horse-dealer, who, 
 as he perceived, had before made a secret signal to the 
 horse, by which he had given it notice to leap, said, " If 
 you will now repeat your signal, sir, Frank is better 
 prepared, and, perhaps, may sit the horse better ; or, if 
 not, I am much mistaken in my boy if he does not per- 
 severe till he succeeds." 
 
 " Thank you, father," said Frank. 
 
 The horse-dealer protested that, if he had made any 
 
 noise, it was not any signal, but quite by accident ; and 
 
 good little Frank believed him. Felix leaped again, and 
 
 this time Frank sat him. The leaps were repeated by 
 
 is own desire, to prove to himself that he could succeed!,
 
 208 FRANK. 
 
 " Felix is not too spirited for me, you see, papa : I 
 may keep him, may not I ?" said he. 
 
 " You may, my dear," said his father. 
 
 Tom sullenly wished them a good morning, and rode 
 away with his groom companion. Frank's father was 
 now to pay for Felix ; and while he was counting the 
 money, Master Tom being out of hearing, the horse- 
 dealer began to flatter Frank, declaring " that he had a 
 much better seat on horseback than Master Tom ; that 
 it was wonderful to see how spirited Master Frank was ; 
 that he deserved, indeed, to have a spirited horse ; and 
 that he would not, for a guinea, that any young gentle- 
 man but himself should have had Blacky, he looked so 
 well on him ; that a fine young gentleman should al- 
 ways have a fine young horse ; that he was certain 
 Master Frank would, in time, make the finest young 
 gentleman-rider in the whole county, or the next, or in 
 the three ridings of Yorkshire." 
 
 And a great deal more he would have said, but that 
 Frank abruptly exclaimed 
 
 " Pray don't flatter me so ; I cannot bear it !" 
 
 Frank's father put the money for the price of the 
 horse into the man's hand, who, after counting it, walk- 
 ed away discontented, and never attempted to flatter 
 Frank any more. 
 
 They had been so much delayed by this business, 
 that Frank lost his ride for this day ; but the next morn- 
 ing Frank had a very pleasant ride with his father : 
 trotting through pretty lanes, and cantering across a 
 common, they came to Copsley Farm ; a farm which 
 had been lately purchased by Farmer Lee, at whose 
 old house Frank, when he was a very little boy, saw a 
 thatcher at work the day when he had his first success- 
 ful battle with a turkey-cock. 
 
 Farmer Lee welcomed them cordially, and invited 
 Frank to rest himself in the house, and to eat something, 
 while his father should ride round the farm : but Frank 
 said that he was neither tired nor hungry, and that he 
 liked to go with his father, and to see and hear all that 
 was to be seen and heard. 
 
 The farmer, happy in showing all his little comforts 
 and conveniences to one who so kindly took an interest 
 in them, took Frank's father what he called the grand 
 tour, finishing by the back yard ; and here, unwilling to 
 part with him, he had more and more last words to say.
 
 FRANK. 209 
 
 But, while he was thus detaining them, the gobbling 
 of a turkey-cock was heard in the poultry-yard, which 
 was divided from the farmyard by a slight wall. . From 
 the moment Felix heard this noise, he began to grow un- 
 easy : Frank, while the farmer was talking loud and 
 eagerly about his own affairs, went on patting his horse, 
 and reasoning with him in a low voice : 
 
 " My dear Felix, don't be foolish it's only the turkey- 
 cock. Stand still, Felix stand still. Oh, Felix ! Felix ! 
 for shame, Felix : you are a greater coward than I was, 
 when I was Oh, Felix, fy! you'll throw me on the 
 dunghill if you don't take care ^do stand still. Do hush ! 
 turkey-cock ! What a horrible hobble-gobbling you are 
 making stand still, I say sir ! stand still !" 
 
 No ; Felix could not or would not stand still while 
 this horrible hobble-gobbling went on ; but was contin- 
 ually sideling from the wall of the chickenyard towards 
 the dunghill, which was on the opposite side. 
 
 " How 1 wish my father would turn, and look how 
 Felix is going on," thought Frank, but still he would not 
 call upon him for assistance. His father knew well 
 what was going on, but on purpose left Frank to man- 
 age with Felix as he could. 
 
 " Will that farmer never have done talking 1 I wish 
 his mouth and the turkey-cock's were both stopped !" 
 thought Frank. 
 
 When he hoped it was ended, it began again on each 
 side. At last they came to " a good morning to you, 
 sir, kindly a very good morning." 
 
 Frank's father returned the " good morning," and was, 
 to Frank's joy, setting off, when the farmer, striding 
 before him, called out, "Pray, sir, come and see the 
 new back road ; it is not a yard out of your way. This 
 way, if you please, sir ! This way, Master Frank, if you 
 please !" 
 
 But this way did not at all please Master Frank, for 
 it was through the chickenyard ; and the moment the 
 door was opened, a gobbling and cackling was heard, 
 which very much displeased Felix. However, Frank 
 knew that he must follow his leader. His father stoop- 
 ed his head as he went through the doorway; and 
 called to Frank, bidding him do the same. 
 
 " Yes, papa, yes ; but Felix will not go through, I am 
 afraid." 
 
 "Afraid!"
 
 810 PRANK. 
 
 "No, no, not afraid myself, papa, only afraid that 
 Felix is afraid of the turkey-cock, sir." 
 
 "Is that all ?" said his father, and he rode on through 
 the opposite gate. 
 
 At this moment his ancient enemy stood insolently 
 in the doorway, filling it up with his huge blapk semi- 
 circle of feathers fanned out behind, his red and blue 
 pouch swelling out in front, and screeching defiance with 
 all his might. 
 
 Frank knew him of old to be a bully and a coward ; 
 but Felix, not suspecting this, backed in spite of all ef- 
 forts to make him advance. The turkey-cock swelled 
 and gobbled the more. 
 
 " Oh," thought Frank, " if I were but on the ground 
 on my own legs, with a good stick in my hand !" 
 
 But he was on horseback, with a good whip in his 
 hand : resolved that the adversary, whom he had van- 
 quished on foot three years ago, should not now con- 
 quer him on horseback, he, with a stroke of the whip, 
 that told Felix he must obey, struck his heels into him, 
 and pressed him forward. Felix obeyed; cleared the 
 doorway of the cowardly bully ; and Frank, bending his 
 head low, entered the doorway. 
 
 Felix went on, made his way through the hissing and 
 the screaming geese, dispersed the inferior crowd of 
 cacklers, and carried Frank from the yard triumphant. 
 The fanner shut the outer door behind him, and bidding 
 Frank look back, through the rails in the upper part of 
 the door, desired him to choose any two from among 
 his enemies, of whom, he said, he would with pleasure 
 make him a present, in honour of his victory. The farm- 
 er, without any insulting air of protection, held the 
 bridle of Frank's horse, to keep him quite still while 
 Frank looked in at the noisy crowd to make his choice; 
 he chose a Bantam cock, and a game chicken, and 
 thanked the farmer, who promised to send them home 
 for him in the morning. 
 
 As they rode away, his father asked Frank why he 
 had chosen these preferably to all others : and Frank 
 answered that he wanted them to explain to Mary what 
 was meant by the " Bantam's vile pantaloons," and by 
 the spurs of the game chicken : which were mentioned 
 in the description of these birds, in some lines in " The 
 Peacock at Home," which she had not understood, be- 
 cause she had never seen either of the birds described.
 
 FRANK. 211 
 
 His father asked Frank if he could remember the 
 lines; Frank, after a few moments' recollection, re- 
 peated, 
 
 " ' They censured the bantam for strutting and crowing 
 In those vile pantaloons, which he fancied looked knowing; 
 And a want of decorum caused many demurs 
 Against the game chicken, for coming in spurs.'" 
 
 " Papa, you see," said Frank, " that I am able to rec- 
 ollect verses on horseback now, though the first day I 
 could think of nothing but managing the horse and my- 
 self." 
 
 "And," said his father, "if I mistake not, you had 
 some little difficulty in managing the horse and your- 
 self just now in the chickenyard, against your old ene- 
 my, the turkey-cock ; but I am glad to see you came off 
 victorious ; and I am glad to perceive that you can turn 
 your mind quickly from yourself to your friends." 
 
 Frank, a little elated by his father's praise, now began 
 " to fight his battles o'er again," and to ridicule his old 
 enemy, the turkey-cock, for his extreme cowardice. 
 
 " I observe," said he, " that when I am not frightened, 
 Felix seems to be less afraid." 
 
 '"Yes," said his father, " a horse soon learns to know 
 whether his rider be afraid of him or not ; he is unwil- 
 ling to obey a cowardly rider." 
 
 " How does the horse find out when the rider is cow- 
 ardly ?" asked Frank. 
 
 " Probably, when the man or boy is afraid, he teases 
 the horse by continually moving the bridles ; or the 
 horse perceives the rider's alarm by some awkwardness 
 in his manner of sitting, and by some motions or tre- 
 mour uneasy to the animal." 
 
 Frank took out his handkerchief to blow his nose, an 
 operation which he performed so as to show that he 
 was quite at ease concerning the effect the noise or 
 fluttering of the handkerchief might have upon Felix. 
 
 " Papa," said he, " the first day I was upon Felix he 
 would not let me blow my nose. That is, I could not 
 blow it in comfort ; because he could not bear the rust- 
 ling of ray handkerchief, nor the sight of it ; but now he 
 is used to it." 
 
 " Yes, and you are used to him." 
 
 " Papa, did you hear me talking to Felix in the farm- 
 yard r
 
 212 FRANK. 
 
 " Yes, I did, but you need not be ashamed of it ; foi 
 the greatest heroes, in the greatest dangers, have al- 
 ways been in the habit of talking to their horses, as if 
 they could comprehend all their arguments. By-and- 
 by, in Homer's Iliad, you will read Achilles' and Hec- 
 tor's fine speeches to their horses, and many others, es- 
 pecially one of a young gentleman called Archilochus ; 
 who will, if I am not mistaken, very much please you, 
 Frank." 
 
 " Will he, sir ? But it will be a great while before I 
 *hall be able to read Homer. I was going to say an- 
 other thing about myself and Felix, papa." 
 
 " Say it, then." 
 
 " In being a man, papa, besides being a reasonable 
 creature, I have another great advantage over Felix ; he 
 must be beaten or spurred to make him go on in dan- 
 ger ; but we have the feeling of honour, and the fear of 
 disgrace, which sort of fear conquers the other sort of 
 fear. I do not express it well, but you know what I 
 mean, papa." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, I do ; but it is said that horses feel 
 shame and emulation. Don't you recollect some an- 
 ecdotes which Colonel Birch told us, about horses in 
 battle ?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Frank, " I did not hear much that 
 Colonel Birch said that day ; because it was my day 
 of" 
 
 Frank paused, and, after a short silence on both sides, 
 his father resumed. 
 
 " Perhaps horses may feel shame and emulation, and 
 something like what we call pride, or a sense of glory: 
 and some are so obedient, that they seem almost to act 
 from a sense of duty ; but I never heard of a horse, 
 Frank, which had formed and kept a resolution to cure 
 himself of his faults, or to conquer his fears." 
 
 Frank smiled. 
 
 " And now, papa," said he, patting Felix, " may I give 
 him a good canter along this pretty lane V 
 
 " Yes ; away with you !" said his father ; and away 
 they cantered along the lane, till they saw at some dis- 
 tance a fire on the road, at the bottom of a hill which 
 they were going to descend. 
 
 " Papa, do you see those flames ?" cried Frank. " Let 
 us ride on, and inquire what is the matter. Perhaps 
 gome house is on fire."
 
 FRANK. 213 
 
 " No," said his father, " I think it is only a fire made 
 by gipsies ; I see some brown rags fluttering by the side 
 of the bank, which looks like the hut of gipsies." 
 
 "But look, look! how high the flames rise!" said 
 Frank. " They are throwing something out of the hut 
 upon the fire." 
 
 " Straw, probably," said his father ; " they are burn- 
 ing their straw bedding. It is very dangerous to make 
 such a fire in the middle of the road." 
 
 " And such a narrow road, too," said Frank ; " there 
 is no room to pass, papa. The wind is blowing the 
 flames all on my side, and the whole passage on your 
 side, between the fire and the hut, is filled with kettles 
 and stools. It is impossible to pass, and horses do not 
 like fire ; Felix does not, I am sure : look at his ears !" 
 
 " Stop, Frank," said his father ; " this fire is enough 
 to frighten any horse ; stop !" 
 
 Frank would willingly have obeyed ; but just then a 
 man drove a cart through the gate from a field behind 
 them, and came down the hill making a jingling noise, 
 which alarmed Felix. A fresh blaze rose up. Felix 
 reared. 
 
 " Frank! keep your seat! that's well! Now to the 
 right, turn him ! follow me ! leap !" 
 
 Frank followed his father, and leaped over a low wall 
 which divided the lane from a field, and found himself 
 safe on his horse's back in the field, out of sight of the 
 fire, and out of hearing of the cart. Felix stood as quiet 
 as a lamb, trembling a little. Frank did not tremble, 
 and enjoyed his successful leap. 
 
 " How lucky it was, father, that you saw that wall, 
 and thought of leaping over it. I never thought of it 
 I never saw it! I saw nothing but the fire, and heard 
 nothing but the cart ; but I hope, papa, I behaved toler- 
 ably well, and sat Felix when he reared, and when he 
 leaped. Is not it a pretty good leap for me, papa ?" 
 
 Frank was so well pleased with himself that he re- 
 quired not even his father's answers ; he exercised him- 
 self in leaping over every little mound in his way, and 
 even went out of his way to practise leaping over any 
 which he could see on the common ; till, at last, his 
 father reminded him that they must make the best of 
 their way home. 
 
 " Well then, papa." said Frank, ranging himself be- 
 side his father, " now we can talk a little. Papa, there
 
 214 FRANK. 
 
 is a great pleasure in conquering difficulties, and in 
 conquering " 
 
 " Fear, do you mean ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa, just the word, only I did not like to say it." 
 
 " But do you think, papa, that grown up men, and 
 really brave men, began by being afraid when they were 
 little boys V 
 
 " Yes ; but they must have learned to conquer their 
 fears when they were boys, or they would never have 
 been able to conquer them when they became men." 
 
 " But, papa, do you mean that after they grow up to 
 be brave men they feel afraid sometimes, and must con- 
 quer their fears ]" 
 
 " Yes, our friend Colonel Birch will tell you, that the 
 first time he went into battle he felt very differently 
 from what he did after he had been in two or three bat- 
 tles : all who have sufficient courage to speak the truth 
 would say the same. One of the bravest of our English 
 generals, whose history you will some time or other 
 read, said that every man would be a coward if he dared. 
 But a man of honour feels what you expressed a little 
 while ago, that the greater fear conquers the lesser; 
 that the fear of danger or of death is less than the fear 
 of disgrace." 
 
 " Disgrace .'" repeated Frank. " Papa, I remember 
 the first terrible idea I ever had of disgrace was from 
 hearing you say of some general, who had run away 
 and behaved like a coward What a disgrace ! I hope," 
 continued Frank, " 1 shall be a very brave man when I 
 grow up ; at any rate, papa, I do not think I shall be 
 cowardly on horseback : because, before that time, I 
 shall be well used to riding. But, papa, by-the-by, one 
 day last summer, when we were out in the boat, I was 
 
 surprised to see that Mr. , you know who, was 
 
 frightened when he was in the boat, and yet he is never 
 frightened on horseback. And when we came to land, 
 that captain of the ship who had been with us, and who 
 had laughed at the poor man for looking alarmed when- 
 ever the boat moved, was himself frightened when he 
 was on horseback." 
 
 " Very true, Frank," said his father. " It seems that 
 being accustomed to one kind of danger does not pre- 
 vent a person from being afraid in any danger that is 
 new, and does not always even prevent him from fan- 
 cying that there is danger where there is none,"
 
 FRANK. 215 
 
 " That is what I observed when I was a very little 
 boy, papa, though I could not then express it rightly in 
 words. It was the same thing that I observed the even- 
 ing when I was afraid of going over the narrow bridge, 
 because I had never done it before, though not afraid 
 of going up the ladder ; and when I was surprised to 
 see the poor woman, who had been frightened about the 
 ladder, go bravely over the bridge. Father, I think I 
 ought to be accustomed to all sorts of dangers before I 
 grow up to be a man." 
 
 " All sorts ! That would be difficult, if not impossi- 
 ble, Frank. Consider all the varieties of dangers there 
 are in this world, by sea and by land. Would you have 
 me ride, run, and sail about with you be shipwrecked, 
 and go into battle, &c., to accustom you to all sorts of 
 dangers V 
 
 " No, 1 ' said Frank, laughing, " that would be impos- 
 sible ; and foolish, if it were possible. But, papa, I 
 ought to be accustomed to all the common dangers that 
 boys or men are likely to meet with." 
 
 "There is some sense in that, Frank." 
 
 " But, after all, I should never even then be secure 
 of not being afraid in any uncommon danger, or in any 
 that was new to me." 
 
 " Being accustomed to danger of different kinds, 
 though a great advantage, is not absolutely necessary 
 to make human creatures brave. Fear may be con- 
 quered, not only by being accustomed to danger, but by 
 any affection or motive which is stronger than the fear. 
 On some occasions the most timid women become 
 brave ; for instance, mothers, when their children are 
 in danger." 
 
 " And, papa I think, papa I hope, papa, that though 
 I am but a little boy, if I saw my mother in any danger, 
 I should quite forget myself." 
 
 " I think you would, Frank. Then you feel already 
 that strong affection can conquer fear, even in a boy as 
 young as you are." 
 
 WHILE Frank's mind was still intent upon the conver- 
 sation he had had with his father about courage, he 
 listened to every anecdote upon this subject which he 
 heard related in conversation or read from books.
 
 216 FRANK. 
 
 One evening, when his father was reading to his moth- 
 er some new book of travels in Italy, his attention was 
 caught, in a description of St. Peter's Church in Rome, 
 by an account of gome young Englishmen of the party 
 who went to see it, who determined to see more of it 
 than any one had seen before ; and who, when their 
 female companions stopped, after having reached the 
 top of the cupola, determined to scramble up the outside 
 of the gilt ball, and to stand on its summit. This, with 
 much difficulty and danger, they accomplished. Their 
 return and descent were still more hazardous ; for, at the 
 under parts of the ball, they were obliged to crawl on 
 their hands and feet, with their faces upward, much in 
 the manner that a fly crawls upon the ceiling. Frank 
 and Mary listened to this description with breathless 
 anxiety. 
 
 " They are down and safe," said Frank ; " I am glad 
 of it ; how very brave they were." 
 
 " 1 am very glad they are safe down," said Mary ; 
 " but I think they were very foolish to go up." 
 
 " Not at all foolish, my dear ; consider they were 
 men," said Frank ; " it is the business of men to be 
 courageous is not it, papa ?" 
 
 " Yes, to be courageous, but not to be rash," said his 
 father ; " or to hazard their lives without any sufficient 
 or useful object." 
 
 " That is exactly what I think, papa," said Mary ; 
 " and if I had been there I should have been so afraid 
 that Frank would have gone up !" 
 
 Frank said he should certainly have liked to go up ; 
 that he should not have liked to have been left behind, 
 even if there had been nothing much worth seeing ; he 
 should have been afraid that the other people would 
 have thought him cowardly if he had refused to go. 
 Besides, he should like to have it to say that he had 
 been as high as they had been, and higher than anybody 
 else had been before. And that, after all, whether the 
 thing was foolish or not, it was certainly a proof of 
 courage. 
 
 This his father allowed, and said that all Frank's 
 feelings were very natural; but that he admired courage 
 more when it was shown for some useful purpose. 
 
 " For instance," said he, laying aside the book he was 
 reading, and taking up the newspaper, " in this day's 
 paper here is an account of a fire, and of a man
 
 21 1 
 
 Saved the life of two children by putting himself in a 
 most perilous situation. The children had been left in 
 an upper room, the staircase had been burnt down, and 
 there was no passage to the room but by a single rafter ; 
 across which, through flames and smoke, this brave 
 man ventured snatched up the screaming children 
 and Carrying one under each arm, crossed again the 
 narrow path, and brought them down in safety to their 
 mother." 
 
 Frank exclaimed that he would much rather have 
 been this man than he that went to the top of the gilfc 
 ball. 
 
 " Oh^ yeSj" said Mary, " and though it was so very 
 dangerous, I should be glad you had done this* Frank. 
 I hope you will do some such thing when you grow up, 
 if ever you are at a fire. I should not like to be by to 
 see ; but I should like very much to hear of it." 
 
 The next day Frank amused himself by practising 
 Walking on the narrowest planks he could find, which 
 he supported by a stool at each end ; and when he could 
 Walk steadily on this narrow path, he exchanged the 
 stools for high trestles, which had been used by a man 
 who had been papering one of the rooms ; and, after 
 fastening the ends of his plank down firm to the trestles* 
 Mary spread cloaks and sofa- cushions underneath, to 
 represent the feather-beds and blankets the people 
 dragged under the passage, to save the man, if possible* 
 if he should fall. And Frank then acted the man saving 
 the life of the two children, which he performed with, 
 two of Mary's dolls^ with great applause. 
 
 Some days afterward, Frank heard a new and true 
 anecdote of the courage of a boy* It was told to him, 
 by the mother of the boy, and it had lately happened, so 
 that every particular was fresh in her recollection. His 
 father was one day walking in a field where a bull was 
 grazing ; the bull, he thought, was quite tame, and he 
 had often been accustomed to caress him* This day, 
 the gentleman saw the bull following him, as he thought, 
 in play ; but, as he was in haste home, he took up a' clod 
 of grass, and threw it at the bull^ to drive him away ; 
 still the bull followed: the gentleman threw another 
 and a larger sod, but still the bull followed, and came 
 quite close behind him. The gentleman took hold of 
 his horn to turn him aside ; but the bull, instead of giv- 
 K 19
 
 218 FRANK. 
 
 ing way, tried to toss him up in the air. The gentle- 
 man, however, who was a very strong, large man, kept 
 firm hold of the horn, and walked on some yards in this 
 manner, the bull every now and then trying to throw 
 him up ; and he keeping down the horn, and calling his 
 men to his assistance, and whistling for the dogs who 
 guarded the cattle ; but neither dogs nor men heard him. 
 He was seen only by a maidservant, who was standing 
 on the steps of the house, with an infant in her arms, 
 and who was so terrified that she could neither stir 
 nor speak ; at this instant his son, who was about nine 
 years old, playing before the door, looked up and saw 
 his father struggling with the bull. Never thinking of 
 the danger for himself, he ran to him : meantime, his 
 father's strength being exhausted, he gave up his hold 
 of the animal, and ran towards a tree to shelter himself 
 from him ; but, just as he reached the tree, he fell. 
 The bull made a thrust at him with one horn ; it went 
 against his watch, which saved him for that time. But 
 the bull had his two fore feet on his breast, and seemed 
 just meditating another thrust when his son came up. 
 The boy had no means of defence, no stick, no stone, 
 nothing to throw at the bull; but he snatched from his 
 head his leather cap, and threw it with such good aim that 
 it hit the bull just across the eyes as he stooped to make 
 another thrust ; the animal, frightened, turned aside. The 
 dogs came up, the men followed, the bull was driven 
 away, and the father's life was thus saved by the cour- 
 age and presence of mind of his little son. 
 
 Frank liked this more than he could express; he 
 stood quite silent in admiration. Some one suggested 
 that perhaps the boy was not aware of the risk he ran. 
 The boy's mother, who told the story, said that she was 
 sure he was fully aware, at the time, of the danger, 
 which she thought was proved by his emotion after- 
 ward. He was so exhausted by the exertion, and by 
 the terror he had felt for his father, that he could not 
 sleep quietly the whole night afterward ; but continu- 
 ally wakened, crying, and saying that he saw the bull 
 before him, going to toss his father. 
 
 This last part of the story Frank did not quite ap- 
 prove ; he looked ashamed of the boy's crying ; and 
 said that he thought in his place he should never have 
 cried when it was all over; he should have rejoiced,
 
 FRANK. 
 
 and should have been too happy, and perhaps too proud 
 of himself, to cry. 
 
 Frank's mother, however, assured him that he could 
 not tell beforehand what his own feelings might be in 
 such a new situation. Frank was glad to hear his 
 mother say this ; and he agreed with her, that it was 
 certainly a proof that the boy was not vain of what he 
 had done, and that his affection for his father must be 
 very great when it could conquer so much fear. 
 
 The relation of this, and of many other instances of 
 courage and presence of mind in young people, assisted 
 Frank in forming his judgment on the subject. 
 
 Among the various instances which, in the course of 
 a few days, his mother found for him, none struck him 
 so much as the account of the behaviour of a father and 
 son, who were both dangerously wounded, at the same 
 time, on board the same ship, in an engagement at sea. 
 The son was a very young man, not above sixteen years 
 old; beloved by everybody who knew him, especially 
 by the admiral, on board whose ship he was. The sur- 
 geon, who attended both father and son, gave the fol- 
 lowing account of the circumstances, which Frank's 
 mother began to read to him ; but which, he said, if she 
 pleased, he would rather finish to himself. 
 
 " When Admiral Watson had the unhappiness to see 
 both father and son fall in the same instant, he imme-' 
 diately went up to them, and, by the most tender and 
 pathetic expressions, tried to alleviate their distress. 
 The captain, who had observed his son's leg to be hang- 
 ing only by the skin, said to the admiral, ' Indeed, sir, 
 this was a cruel shot, to knock down both the father 
 and the son !' 
 
 " Mr. Watson's heart was too full to make the least 
 reply ; he only ordered them both to be immediately 
 carried to the surgeon. The captain was first brought 
 down to me ; he told me how dangerously his poor 
 Willy had been wounded. Presently after, the brave 
 youth himself appeared; his eyes overflowing with 
 tears, not for his own, but for his father's fate. I la- 
 boured to assure him that his father's wound was not 
 dangerous, and this assertion was confirmed by the cap- 
 tain himself. He seemed not to believe either of us, 
 until he asked me, upon my honour, and 1 had repeated to 
 him my first assurance, in the most positive manner. 
 He then immediately became calm ; but on my attempt- 
 K2
 
 220 FRANK. 
 
 ing to inquire into the condition of his wound^he so- 
 licitously asked me if I had dressed his father, for he 
 could not think of my touching him before his father's 
 wound had been taken care of. I assured him that the 
 captain had been already properly attended to-: ' Then,' 
 replied the generous youth, pointing to a fellow-sufferer, 
 4 pray, sir, look to and dress this poor man, who is 
 groaning so sadly beside me !' I told him that he 
 already had been taken care of, and begged of him, with 
 some importunity, that I might now have liberty to ex- 
 amine his wound : he submitted to it, and calmly ob- 
 served, ' Sir, I fear you must amputate above the joint;' 
 I replied, ' My dear, I must !' Upon which he clasped 
 both his hands together, and lifting his eyes in the most 
 devout and fervent manner towards heaven, he offered 
 the following short but eaniest petition : ' Good God ! 
 do thou enable me to behave in my present circumstan- 
 ces worthy my father's son.' 
 
 " When he had ended this ejaculatory prayer, he told 
 n^ that he was all submission ; I then performed the 
 operation above the joint of the knee ; but, during the 
 whole time, the intrepid youth never spoke a word or 
 uttered a groan that could be heard at a yard distance. 
 
 " You may imagine what, in this interval, the captain 
 felt, who lay just by his darling son ; but whatever were 
 his feelings, there was no expression of them but silent 
 trickling tears. The bare recollection of this scene, 
 even at this distant time, is too painful for me. 
 
 " The son remained with me at the hospital : the 
 father was lodged at the house of a friend. For the 
 first eight or nine days I gave the father great comfort 
 by carrying him joyful tidings of his boy ; and in the 
 same manner I gratified the son with regard to the fa- 
 ther. But, alas ! from that time all the good symptoms 
 which had hitherto attended this unparalleled youth, 
 "began to disappear ! The captain easily guessed by my 
 silence and countenance the true state his boy was in, 
 -nor did he ever ask me more than two questions con- 
 cerning him ; so tender was the subject to us both, and 
 so unwilling was his generous mind to add to my dis- 
 tress. The first was on the tenth day, in these words : 
 ' How long, my friend, do you think my Billy may re- 
 main in a state of uncertainty V I replied, that if he 
 lived to the fifteenth day after the operation, there would 
 be the strongest hopes of his recovery. On the thir-
 
 FRANK. 221 
 
 teenth, however, he died; and on the sixteenth the 
 brave man, looking me steadfastly in the face, said, 
 ' Well, sir, how fares it with my boy ?' I could make 
 him no reply ; and he immediately attributed my silence 
 to the real cause. He cried bitterly, squeezed me by 
 the hand, and begged me to leave him for one half hour, 
 when he wished to see me again ; and assured me that 
 I should find him with a different countenance. I punc- 
 tually complied with his desire ; and when I returned to 
 him he appeared perfectly calm and resigned." 
 
 AFTER Frank's " day of dangers," as Mary called it, 
 he had many rides with his father without any dangers 
 or difficulties ; but though he had no adventures, he 
 generally saw or heard something, with which he en- 
 tertained Mary at his return. 
 
 One day in autumn, as he was riding with his father 
 near the banks of a river, he saw, in some low marshy 
 ground, a large plantation of tall thin trees : Frank asked 
 his father why people planted such ugly thin trees, or 
 rather switches. 
 
 " Because," answered his father, " ugly as they are, 
 they are very useful ; those switches, as you call them, 
 are sallows, or osiers, and a plantation of them is called 
 an osiery." 
 
 While they stopped to look at it, a man came from 
 the osiery with a bill-hook and a large iron hoop in his 
 hand. Frank saw that this man was the gardener, whom 
 he used to call the gardener of the green gate. This 
 gardener smiled, and was glad to see Frank ; his liking 
 for him had not only lasted, but had increased ; because 
 Frank had continued to take care not to be troublesome, 
 and whenever he went to see his garden, was eager to 
 observe and to learn what was going forward. The gar- 
 dener now had with him some boys who were cutting 
 long twigs of osiers, and laying them in heaps. Some 
 of these were very thin, some thicker; and they had 
 different coloured barks. The gardener told Frank that 
 some were to be used for making large coarse baskets, 
 others for smaller and finer baskets, some for making 
 hurdles, and others, which were very slight and pliant, 
 were sen iceable to him for tying branches of fruit-trees. 
 19*
 
 222 FRANK. 
 
 Of all these and many more uses for willows which the 
 gardener mentioned, the making of baskets most inter- 
 ested Frank ; he should like very much, he said, to see 
 how they were made. The gardener told him that he 
 had a son who was expert in basket-malting; that the 
 boy was now at work in a field near his house, by which 
 they would pass on their road home ; and that if they 
 could call on him, the boy could easily show Frank how 
 to set about the work. Frank gladly accepted this offer, 
 and the gardener, who was going home, took a short way 
 across the fields, so that he arrived before Frauk and 
 his father. 
 
 They saw the boy at work in a new-mown meadow ; 
 they alighted and went to him. He began a new bas- 
 ket, to show them the work, from the beginning. He 
 stuck a number of sallows in a circle, at equal distances 
 in the grass ; the circle was the size which he wished 
 the basket to be. He then began to weave other sal- 
 lows between these, in a manner which Frank easily 
 learned to imitate ; and the boy showed him how the 
 bottom of the basket was made firm, and how the top 
 and the handle were finished. 
 
 While Frank was at work, the gardener went with 
 his father to see his nursery. 
 
 " You see, papa," said Frank to his father, as he return- 
 ed with the gardener, and as he showed him the basket 
 of which he had made the greater part himself; " you 
 see that I shall not be the idle gentleman, but the bas- 
 ket-maker ; and if ever I am cast away upon a desert 
 island, I shall make beautiful crowns for the king of 
 the savages, and be a great man among them." 
 
 The gardener smiled, and so did his son, who had 
 read in Sandford and Merton the story of the basket- 
 maker to which Frank alluded. The gardener, who 
 was an intelligent Scotchman, observed " that it would 
 scarcely be worth any one's while to learn basket-ma- 
 king merely for the chance of being called upon to make 
 crowns for kings of the savages. 
 
 " But," continued he, " it is no bad thing for a young 
 gentleman, who is not obliged to live by the work of his 
 hands, to learn the use of his hands, as I may call it. 
 Even the knowing such a simple thing as how to make 
 a basket, may be of service to him at some odd time in 
 life. In these days there is no knowing to what the 
 richest gentleman born may be reduced.
 
 PRANK. 223 
 
 " But a few years ago I remember numbers of poor 
 French, of the highest quality, and who had had the finest 
 fortunes in their own country, when they were banished 
 from France and their fortunes taken from them, were 
 supported by the work of their own hands, or that of 
 their servants. One old count and countess, I recollect 
 in particular, were kept from starving by the industry 
 of a servant-boy who had formerly been in their family, 
 and who understood basket-making, and worked with 
 the basket-maker to whom I sold my osiers. I used to 
 see him frequently: and the little count, a boy not 
 above Master Frank's age, had the sense to learn too, 
 and worked hard for his father and mother." 
 
 " And this did really happen," said Frank ; " and but 
 a few years ago ! I am afraid that I should not be able 
 to do any thing for my father and mother if they were 
 reduced to want." 
 
 " But it was not those who laboured by their hands 
 only that could do the most for themselves or their 
 friends. Some of them could do what I call head-work ; 
 some spoke and wrote their own language, and had 
 learned their French grammar ; and they earned bread 
 for themselves and their families by teaching French 
 grammatically. Others, who knew music and dancing, 
 if they knew even those things well, could earn their 
 bread. But I did not think so much of them, being not 
 such manly trades. But gentlemen, when in distress, 
 must make the most of the little they know. I had 
 great respect for a poor French nobleman's son, who 
 turned drawing-master, and was obliged to work hard, 
 to my knowledge, to learn perspective, before he could 
 get himself employed in a school in our neighbourhood. 
 He did succeed at last, and right glad he was, and so 
 we were for him; for he had two sisters and an old 
 mother who had no other means of living but what he 
 earned. They had sold all, and were come to the last 
 distress. They were lodged in a garret in Litchfield, 
 at the house ol an uncle of mine : that is the reason I 
 know so much about them. I often caught a glimpse 
 of one or other of them on the stairs when they came 
 out to peep if their brother was coming up. And what 
 joy I've seen in their faces when it was he ! And what 
 disappointment when it was only me ! Oh, he was a 
 good and hard-working young man and gentleman !"
 
 S24 PRANK. 
 
 " How happy he must have been to be able to do this 
 for his sisters and mother !" repeated Frank. 
 
 " And for himself, or he must have starved," said the 
 gardener. " And starving is no joke when it comes to 
 the pinch. However, as you have never felt that pinch, 
 this notion cannot touch you much, Master Frank," 
 added the gardener, laughing. 
 
 " Do you know any more stories of these poor French 
 people?" said Frank; " I should like to hear more." 
 
 The gardener said that he had heard hundreds of sto- 
 ries of them ; but that he did not recollect any more 
 that he could say he knew of his own knowledge. He 
 had seen the French prisoners at work at Bristol, and 
 had seen the ingenious toys and curious things, models 
 of ships, and windmills, and cannons, they made of old 
 bones, with scarce any tools but their knives ; but he 
 believed, he said, that all these knicknacks were sold very 
 cheap, and that so many could make them, and there 
 was such great competition, " you know," said the gar- 
 dener, turning to Frank's father, " that, work ever so 
 hard, they could gain but little, not more than what kept 
 them in clothes, and that but barely ; for people's fancy 
 changed often, and the toys were not bought." The 
 gardener repeated, it was best to stick to useful trades, 
 and the making of such things as must be wanted as 
 long as the world stands, by all people, of all descrip- 
 tions, said he, glancing his eye at the basket which his 
 youngest boy held in his hand. " Not but what," added 
 he, looking at his eldest son, " what I said before is true 
 too, that the work of the head is better still than the 
 work of the hands ; better paid, you know, sir, and 
 more respected and more respectable. My eldest boy 
 is breeding up to be a surveyor, and is beginning to learn 
 the mathematics. Fetch your book, Andrew, and show 
 the gentleman." 
 
 Frank's father looked at Andrew's book, and was 
 pleased ; and, to confirm what the gardener had been 
 saying, he told another anecdote of a French emigrant : 
 no less a person than the present Duke of Orleans. 
 When he was in exile and in distress, during the French 
 revolution, he supported himself by teaching mathe- 
 matics, which he had learned well when a boy. 
 
 " He must have learned well to be able to teach them," 
 said Andrew.
 
 FRANK. 225 
 
 " Ay, and when he was to be paid for teaching too," 
 said the gardener ; " if he had not been able to teach 
 them well, nobody would have employed him ; for it 
 was nothing to them that he was a French duke then. 
 I suppose, indeed, nobody knew who he was or had 
 been." 
 
 " No ; he was obliged to conceal his name and title," 
 said Frank's father. 
 
 "Then, Andrew, he was no more than you yourself, 
 standing there ; think of that." 
 
 " And the duke is not ashamed to own it now ?" said 
 Andrew. 
 
 "Ashamed ! no, he is proud of it," answered Frank's 
 father. 
 
 " As well he may be," said the gardener, 
 
 " There is now in the palace of the Duke of Orleans, 
 in France, a picture, in which he is represented in the 
 midst of his pupils, in the school where he taught. 
 Frank, you shall see a print taken from this picture, 
 which is now in the possession of a friend of your 
 mother's, to whom it was given by the duke and dutch- 
 ess of Orleans." 
 
 Frank, Andrew, and the gardener exclaimed at once 
 that they should like very much to see this print. 
 
 Frank now stood with his basket in his hand, looking 
 very thoughtful. The gardener interrupted his revery 
 by offering him a fine provision of osiers, for making 
 baskets and fences of different sorts. The bundles of 
 osiers were so large that he did not know how they 
 could be carried home ; but a boy of nearly his own 
 age, who was standing by, offered to carry them for 
 him. 
 
 The boy set off with his huge load of osiers, and the 
 gardener took Frank with his father to see his hothouse 
 and greenhouse. After which, they remounted their 
 horses and returned homewards, 
 
 Frank, as they were riding home, observed to his 
 father, that on the labels of the shrubs and flowers he 
 had just seen, the names that were written were not in 
 English, but in Latin ; and whenever he asked the name 
 of any flower in the hothouse, the gardener first told it 
 to him in Latin, and then in English. Frank asked the 
 reason of this. His father answered, that it was useful 
 to give names to plants in a language which could be 
 understood in different countries ; and Latin is a sort of 
 K 3
 
 S26 PRANK. 
 
 universal language, which is understood in all countries, 
 by all people of a certain degree of education. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, " what you told me about the 
 Duke of Orleans, and what the gardener said about the 
 poor French prisoners and emigrants, and about basket- 
 making, and knicknack-making, and particularly about 
 the different value of hand-work and head-work, makes 
 me consider that I have not thought enough about what 
 things will or will not be really useful to me to learn 
 before I grow up to be a man and a gentleman ; and I 
 am determined to do it directly." 
 
 His father said this was a wise resolution ; but he 
 was a little surprised by the extraordinary gravity with 
 which Frank spoke. 
 
 " The first thing that I shall do when I get home," 
 continued Frank, " shall be to ask mamma for two ol 
 the largest sheets of paper she has in her paper treas- 
 ury ; and at the top of the one I will write, or I will 
 print, in large letters, MAN, and on the other, WOMAN ; 
 and I will rule lines very close, and on these two sheets 
 of paper I will make two lists, one for myself, man ; and 
 the other for Mary, woman ; and under these heads I 
 will put every thing that we ought to know or learn 
 before we grow up to be man and woman. I will have 
 two columns, papa, and put those things that we can- 
 not possibly do without in one column, and those that 
 we might like to have, but that we can do without, in 
 the other. That will be very useful, will not it, papa ? 
 and one column I will call must want, and the other 
 may want. 
 
 " Some things will be the same for both of us, papa ; 
 for instance, truth goes under must want for both man 
 and woman ; but courage, papa, goes under must want 
 in my list, and may want in Mary's ; or, perhaps, it may 
 be left out entirely in her list. We will consider of it." 
 
 " Do so : in the meantime, Frank, consider a little 
 where you are going. Do not haul your horse about in 
 that cowpath from side to side, or you will throw him 
 down." 
 
 " I will take care, papa. Mind where you are going, 
 Felix, sir. We will begin our lists this day, and Mary 
 and I can settle them all. What do you think, papa ? 
 You smile : you look as if you thought we could not do 
 this." 
 
 u I think that perhaps you will want a little of your
 
 FRANK. 237 
 
 mother's assistance and mine ; for, without more expe- 
 rience or knowledge of the world than you two possess, 
 it will be impossible that you should know all that ig 
 necessary to put in or leave out of your lists of must 
 wants and may wants" 
 
 " That is true," said Frank ; " for I did not know till 
 very lately that Latin grammar and Latin should go 
 under must want for man, that is for gentlemen. By-the- 
 by, papa, that gardener, who is not a gentleman, under- 
 stands Latin." 
 
 " Yes, he knows the Latin names of trees, plants, and 
 flowers." 
 
 " But," answered Frank, " he knows a great deal 
 more. I took up a book that was lying on a seat in his 
 porch, and what do you think it was, papa 1 A Latin 
 book ! a Latin poet !" 
 
 "Virgil's, Eclogues, I suppose?" 
 
 " Yes ; Virgil's Eclogues : how could you guess it 1" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, Frank went on 
 
 " His son told me that he not only reads that, but 
 other Latin books, which he called the classics, at his 
 leisure hours, for his amusement ! Think of that, papa !" 
 
 His father did not<appear much surprised, but told 
 Frank that he hoped and believed that he would some 
 time or other read Virgil and all the classics for his 
 amusement. Frank asked his father what he meant by 
 the classics. His father began to name to him some of 
 those authors who are called ancient classical writers ; 
 but before this list, with various explanations, was fin- 
 ished, they saw the boy following them who was car- 
 rying the willows home for Frank. He had taken a 
 short way across the fields. He had such a load on his 
 back that it reached above his head and below his 
 knees, and the trees seemed to be moving forward of 
 themselves. Frank's mother was walking down the 
 avenue, and said to his father, when she met them, 
 something which Frank did not quite understand : point- 
 ing to the boy and the willows behind him, she said, 
 
 " ' A moving wood doth come to Dunsinane.' " 
 
 " I know that is a quotation," said Frank ; " but I do , 
 not know from what book, nor exactly what it means; 
 I wish that I did." 
 
 " It is from a play of Shakspeare," said his father. 
 " Shakspeare is one of the first English classic authors
 
 228 PRANK. 
 
 which you will read for your amusement one of these 
 days, but not yet. Now tell this moving wood where it 
 should go," 
 
 The boy was directed to Frank's island : there his 
 load of sallows was laid down. 
 
 In the eagerness to begin his basket-making, Frank 
 forgot, till late in the evening, the two lists of the must 
 wants and may wants of man and woman ; but the next 
 morning, it being a rainy day, the work was begun as 
 soon as the Latin lesson was finished. His mother 
 having furnished from her inexhaustible bounty two 
 sheets of paper, large as Frank's imagination could de- 
 sire, he, and Mary under his directions, accomplished 
 ruling them tolerably straight, dividing each page into 
 two columns, ruled, contrary to good advice, with red 
 ink, so liquid, that it blotted much of the space intended 
 to contain the virtues of man. Fatigued with ruling, 
 for it is a very tiresome business, as all who have tried 
 it will bear witness, Frank went no farther in his great 
 work, at this sitting, than printing MAN, in large letters, 
 on his own page, and WOMAN, in equal size, on Mary's. 
 The ensuing day was fine, but no riding for Frank } his 
 father could not take him out 'with him every day. 
 Basket-making at their island was now a fine resource; 
 but, in their first attempt, the willows were not stuck at 
 equal distances, or so as to form a perfect circle. The 
 basket proved but a misshapen thing, crooked in every 
 direction ; it could not stand, because the bottom was so 
 round ; and the handle was so weak and so ill fastened 
 that it came out the first time Mary attempted to use it. 
 
 After this failure in basket-making Frank returned to 
 his lists. Truth, honour, courage, were fairly written 
 in his best round hand under the head man ) and Mary, 
 for woman, wrote also truth and honesty ; and, after con- 
 sulting Frank's mother, added modesty and good-temper. 
 The next word in Y rank's list was written and scratch- 
 ed out several times. First it was Latin grammar; 
 then grammar was scratched out, and Latin left ; then 
 Latin classics was put instead of grammar ; then learn- 
 ing was written ; and at last learning was to be effaced, 
 all but the 1, and literature to have been put in its 
 stead ; but the paper could not bear it ; there was now 
 a hole, and Frank's hands were hot, and he grew impa- 
 tient, and pushed aside the paper, and said that he 
 would give it up for this morning.
 
 PRANK. 229 
 
 Mary wrote patience in her list before she left the ta- 
 ble. Frank urged her to scratch it out, assuring her 
 that it was included in good-temper, a point which she 
 seemed to doubt ; for, as she said, Frank was very 
 good-tempered, but she did not think that he was al- 
 ways patient. Frank, feeling the justice of this obser- 
 vation, returned to his work, and never quitted it till he 
 had written the whole over again. This time he put in 
 patience and perseverance in his list before Latin or 
 classical literature. " Even in our plays," as Mary said, 
 " and in all those things which we do merely for our 
 amusement, we cannot succeed without patience." 
 
 " To-morrow we will go to our basket-making again," 
 said Frank, " and we will not give it up." 
 
 In this resolution he and Mary persevered ; and after 
 the Latin lesson was finished, on those days when his 
 father could not take him out, or when he returned 
 early in the day from his rides, at every moment's spare 
 time he and Mary were at work, either at their baskets 
 or at their lists. 
 
 " It is very agreeable, mamma," said Frank, " to have 
 employments both for out of doors and in-doors, to 
 which we can go constantly, without troubling you or 
 anybody. And you see, mamma, we do not begin new 
 things and grow tired, and leave them in a few days, as 
 you say foolish children are apt to do. Look, mamma, 
 at this basket : compare it with the first that we made, 
 this crooked, tumble-down thing, with the round bottom 
 and the broken-handle. See how much we are impro- 
 ved !" 
 
 " Yes," his mother said, " this is a really good, strong, 
 useful basket." 
 
 Frank asked his mother if she would be so kind as to 
 walk with them to his old friend Mrs. Wheeler's, that 
 he might carry this basket to her ; he wished to give it 
 to her, because she had given him the first basket he 
 ever possessed, a little one made of rushes, which had 
 been long since destroyed ; but the remembrance of the 
 kindness remained in Frank's mind ; and his mother 
 willingly walked with him and Mary to the cottage. 
 
 Mrs. Wheeler was sitting on a stool before her door, 
 shelling peas ; and Mary, holding their basket by the 
 handle, offered it to her. 
 
 She smiled and thanked them, and seemed to like the 
 basket even before she knew that it was their making ; 
 20
 
 230 PRANK. 
 
 and she was surprised fully as much as they expected 
 when she heard that it was made by them, and on pur- 
 pose for her. 
 
 But when Frank reminded her of the little rush bas- 
 ket which she had given him long since, the tears came 
 into her eyes, and she said, 
 
 " God bless you ! God bless your grateful little heart ! 
 Think of his remembering that so long, which I had 
 quite forgotten !" 
 
 She gathered up the husks of the peas which she had 
 been shelling, and threw them into the basket, to show 
 Frank that it would be immediately useful to her. 
 
 " But it is so strong," said Mary, " it will bear a much 
 greater load than this." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Wheeler, " I will keep my fagots 
 in it." 
 
 She and Frank both smiled when she pronounced the 
 word fagots ; and while she went to empty the basket 
 of peashells and fill it with sticks, Frank told Mary the 
 mistake he had made when he was a very little boy, 
 about fagots and maggots. 
 
 " I can bear to be laughed at now, cannot I, mamma? 
 better, at least, than I could at that time. Yet," added 
 he, " I recollect that stupid Tom vexed me a little the 
 first time we saw him, by laughing at my triumphal 
 arch, and calling my bricks baby bricks." 
 
 " Now I know the reason," said Mary, " that you 
 have not played with the bricks lately." 
 
 " And a very foolish reason it is," said Frank. " I 
 will conquer that foolish feeling." 
 
 " Look !" said Mary, " here is Mrs. Wheeler with the 
 basket filled with sticks. Good-natured woman ! she 
 likes to show us how useful it will be." 
 
 She placed the basket in her chimney comer ; and 
 told Mary and Frank that she would never let anybody 
 touch it but herself and her grandson George. 
 
 When once she had named George, she could not 
 help going on speaking of him ; she showed the parlour, 
 which he had had newly whitewashed and floored ; and 
 said that every penny he could earn he laid out in some 
 comfort for her. 
 
 " George was talking," continued she, " of making for 
 me a little arbour in the garden; but I would not let 
 him do it, for he does too much for me, and he can be 
 much better employed ; so I persuaded him to lay aside 
 all thoughts of the arbour."
 
 PRANK. 231 
 
 When Frank heard this, a plan of making an arbour 
 for Mrs. Wheeler came into his mind, which he com- 
 municated to Mary as they were returning home : and 
 Mary and he agreed that they would make use of some 
 strong and long sallows, which the gardener had sent 
 them ; and for this purpose, they said, they would give 
 up their plan of making a new arbour for themselves in 
 their island. This was an excellent project; but it 
 happened to this, as to many other excellent projects, 
 that the carrying it into execution was from day totiay 
 postponed : something was always to be done first ; 
 and delightful rides made Frank quite "forget Mrs. 
 Wheeler's arbour. 
 
 DURING the course of this autumn and winter, when 
 Frank had learned to ride tolerably well, his father 
 sometimes took him out riding when he went with his 
 friends, or when he went out on any business in which 
 a boy of his age could learn any thing useful. 
 
 Frank liked the rides best which he had with his fa- 
 ther when he was alone ; because then he could ask 
 him all the questions which he had treasured up for 
 those happy times. 
 
 When his father's friends happened to ride with them, 
 Frank found it disagreeable to be silent, especially as 
 the conversation sometimes turned on subjects which 
 did not interest him, and which he fancied that he could 
 not understand ; yet he had sense enough to attend to 
 what was said, and he found that he often learned more 
 than he could have done by talking himself, even of 
 what he was most anxious to say. 
 
 It happened, in one of these rides, that his father was 
 accompanied by two gentlemen : one was an engineer, 
 well informed in literature and science ; the other was a 
 country squire, who had a large estate, was good-natu- 
 red, but very ignorant, and fond of low company. 
 
 The business of this ride was to lay out a new road, 
 which was to go through part of that gentleman's es- 
 tate. In this business Frank was not interested, and he 
 thought, as he told Mary, that it would prove one of his 
 stupid rides. 
 
 The beginning was tiresome, for he could not under- 
 stand what the engineer was saying to his father about a
 
 32 - PRANK. 
 
 trigonometrical survey of England, nor of what the sqnire 
 said to him about hounds. He trotted on for miles 
 without any amusement, except talking by turns to Fe- 
 lix and to his little dog Pompey, whom he taught to fol- 
 low him in his rides. 
 
 He was, however, called upon to listen to a long 
 story, which the squire endeavoured to make him un- 
 derstand. A story, such as people full of their own af- 
 fairs, and unused to children, address to them for their 
 amusement. 
 
 It was the history of a quarrel about a dead partridge, 
 between the" Squires's and the Rogers's, which was 
 made up by a marriage between Miss Squires, his 
 mother, and Mr. Rogers, his father, "upon condition 
 that the eldest son, that was to be, should be christened 
 Squires, which was accordingly done by me, that is, with 
 me," said the puzzled and puzzling squire. " So I be- 
 came Squires Rogers, and, in time, ought to be denom- 
 inated Squire Squires Rogers ; being that I am Esquire, 
 that is, a Squire by title and Squires by name and, I 
 may add, Squire by nature : but I have never compassed 
 getting myself called Squire Squires Rogers, on account 
 of the hissing in common people's mouths : so it came 
 down to Squires Rogers, and then to plain Squire Ro- 
 gers. But this defeated the intention of the founder," 
 continued he, " for there is many in the country this 
 minute that does not know I am any thing more than 
 plain Squire Rogers. I doubt whether even your father 
 does ; but pray do you explain it to him, my dear." 
 
 Frank said that he would if he could ; he thought, 
 however, that this would be above his capacity ; but he 
 repeated to himself several times Squire Squires Rogers, 
 to try whether he could say it properly, in spite of the 
 hissing. 
 
 His attention had been much distracted during the 
 latter part of the squire's story, by some words that he 
 overheard of the conversation on the other side of him, 
 between the engineer and his father, about stone stairs, 
 leading to curious buildings under ground, which had 
 lately been discovered by some workmen who had been 
 sinking a well. 
 
 The conversation changed before Frank's attention 
 was released from the Squires's and the Rogers's, and 
 he never could find out more. 
 
 Presently,-his father stopped near some ruins. The
 
 PRANK. 233 
 
 squire told Frank not to mind that heap of old stones, 
 but to listen to what he was going to tell him about a 
 covey of partridges. Frank, however, escaped this 
 time from the squire, and rode after his father, for his 
 curiosity was again excited by hearing the words Roman 
 road and Roman arch ; the recollection of his own tri- 
 umphal arch gave him an interest in this subject. He 
 was surprised to learn that an arch and a road, which 
 he now saw had been made when the Romans were in 
 England. ' ::i /*' ! . 
 
 From the little books of history which he had read, 
 he knew that " the Romans in England once did sway ;" 
 but he had thought of this only as a circumstance men- 
 tioned in books, and had never so much the feeling of its 
 being real as now, when he saw a road and a part of a 
 building which had lasted from their time. 
 
 The conversation next turned upon one of those old 
 towers which are called Caesar's towers, and various 
 facts of history were mentioned, with some of which 
 Frank was acquainted ; but what interested him most 
 was observing the respect that was paid to his father 
 as a man of literature. He remarked, also, that the 
 squire looked sulky and ashamed while they were talk- 
 ing of Tacitus and Agricola, of Julius Caesar and Augus- 
 tus ; and when he was asked some question about a 
 tower on his own estate, which was said to have been 
 built in the time of Augustus Caesar, he said, he thank- 
 ed his stars he knew nothing at all of any of the Caesars 
 since he had left school, except his dog Caesar, who was 
 worth them all put together. The squire was at last 
 obliged to whistle, and to whip his boot, and talk to 
 little Pompey. Frank hoped that when he grew up to 
 be a man he should never be in such a condition. They 
 rode on, and as they went through the county town, 
 the engineer stopped to look at the cathedral, the roof 
 of which wanted some repair. 
 
 When observations were made upon the different 
 parts of the building, the columns and Gothic arches, 
 Frank found that his knowledge of the different kinds 
 of arches, and of the orders of architecture, enabled 
 him to understand part of what was said, and made him 
 eager to attend, in hopes of learning more. When 
 they were looking at some headless statues in the 
 niches of one of the shrines in the cathedral, and when 
 he heard his father regret the injury which had been 
 20*
 
 234 FRANK. 
 
 done to this cathedral, and to many others in England, 
 by Cromwell's soldiers at the time of the civil wars in 
 England, at least he knew who Cromwell was; and 
 when he felt his own ignorance of many other facts in 
 English history, which were alluded to in looking at the 
 tombs and monuments, he inquired and obtained some 
 information. But all this time the squire, as ignorant 
 of the history of his own country as of that of Rome, 
 stood yawning at intervals before an old gravestone, on 
 which was the name of either Roberts or Rogers ; 
 whose only history seemed to be that he had been born 
 and had died. 
 
 Frank and his father felt sorry for the squire, and 
 they quitted the cathedral soon, lest they should weary 
 him by detaining him longer. They all remounted their 
 horses, and proceeded to the place where the new road 
 was to be laid out. Here they found the engineer's 
 men waiting for them ; they had brought with them a 
 telescope, and two boxes which contained his instru- 
 ments, and some wooden rods or staves. Frank had 
 seen and had often looked through a telescope, and 
 knew its use, and remembered all he had read about it 
 in Sandford and Merton. The engineer, who had ob- 
 served that Frank was intelligent, gave him leave to 
 look through his glass at the distant country, and as he 
 saw the manner in which Frank held it, and applied his 
 eye to it, at the same time directing it to the objects 
 which he wished to see, he said, 
 
 " I perceive this is not the first time you have looked 
 through a telescope." 
 
 "No," said Frank; "the first time I could not shut 
 one eye and look with the other ; and I remember I 
 pointed the telescope sometimes a great way higher and 
 sometimes a great way lower than the thing 1 wanted 
 to see. But my father taught me how to hold, and 
 direct, and steady it ; and he let me try till I could do it 
 all for myself." 
 
 " You are very much obliged to your father, then," 
 said the engineer, " for teaching you ; for, in general, 
 children, and indeed grown-up people, are terribly awk- 
 ward the first time they want to look through a glass." 
 
 As Frank looked through it, he said, 
 
 " I see a high hill over which a road goes." 
 
 " Yes," said the engineer, " we are going to change 
 that road, to save people the trouble of going up that
 
 FRANK. 235 
 
 hill ; and I am going to measure the different heights of 
 the ground." 
 
 He then called to one of his men, and desired him to 
 bring his theodolite. 
 
 Frank, who had never before seen such an instrument, 
 went eagerly to look at it. But he could not under- 
 stand its different parts ; he saw telescopes and brass 
 circles, with many divisions of which he could not 
 guess the use. He saw a compass : with this he was 
 acquainted, for his father had shown him a compass : 
 he watched the needle as it trembled ; and when it stood 
 still, he knew it pointed to the north : his curiosity was 
 next excited by a small glass tube, in which he saw a 
 bubble that continually moved backwards and forwards 
 whenever the instrument was stirred. 
 
 He saw the engineer look at this bubble frequently, 
 and, as it were, consult it. Frank observed that the 
 bubble always went to that end of the tube which was 
 highest. 
 
 At last, when the instrument was settled to the en- 
 gineer's satisfaction, Frank saw that this bubble stood 
 quite still, exactly in the middle of the glass tube ; he 
 perceived, therefore, that its use was to show when the 
 instrument was level. He asked what this was. The 
 engineer said it was a spirit level. He asked what the 
 bubble was, and why it always ran upwards. The en- 
 gineer said that it was a bubble of air; but he told 
 Frank that he could not explain more to him, that he 
 must go on with his work. 
 
 The engineer ordered one of his assistants to stand 
 on the road at a certain distance from him, with one of 
 the staves, which the man held on the road. On this 
 staff there was a sliding part, which the man pushed 
 higher or lower when the engineer, who looked at it 
 through the telescope, made signs to him to raise or 
 lower it. When this was done the engineer called the 
 man to him, and noted down the height to which the 
 slide had been placed on the staff, and this operation 
 was repeated at several places. 
 
 As Frank had been quite silent, and had taken care 
 not to be in the way, the engineer gave him leave to 
 look through the telescope at the staff; and told him 
 that he might call to the man to raise or lower it till it 
 should be at its proper height. Frank looked through 
 the telescope ; but, to his astonishment, he saw the man
 
 236 PRANK. 
 
 standing on his head, and the road steming to stand on 
 the man's feet ; and when he called to the man to raise 
 the slide, he lowered it, or when he called to him to 
 lower it, he raised it, doing exactly the contrary to 
 what he desired ; at which^the squire grew angry, and 
 began to call the man a blockhead, a dunce, and an ob- 
 stinate fool. But as the man had always done rightly 
 when the engineer had spoken to him, Frank guessed 
 that the fault must be his own ; and as all the objects 
 were reversed, that is, turned a different way from what 
 they usually are, he perceived that he ought to reverse 
 his orders, and to say higher when it seemed to require 
 to be lower, and lower when it seemed to require to be 
 higher. 
 
 " I see," said the engineer, stroking Frank's head, 
 " that your kind father has taught you better things 
 than how to hold a telescope ; that he has taught you 
 to be patient, and to believe that you may be in the 
 wrong, and ought not to expect to be in the right in a 
 new thing, which you have never learned." 
 
 Encouraged by these kind words, Frank said he 
 wished very much to know the reason of what he had 
 seen, and particularly why the man appeared to stand 
 on his head ] But his father told him that this could 
 not be explained till he knew a great deal more. 
 
 "What is the engineer going to do now]" asked 
 Frank. 
 
 " He is going to measure the height and distance of 
 those two mountains which you see to the east and to 
 the west, to your right hand and to your left." 
 
 Frank observed that the engineer, after looking 
 through the telescope, examined the divisions on the 
 brass circles; then changed the position of the tele- 
 scope, and again examined the divisions; after which 
 he looked satisfied, and wrote something in a little book. 
 And Frank heard him say several things to his father 
 which he could not understand, about taking angles, a 
 base, and a meridian line. 
 
 When the engineer seemed to have done with the 
 instrument, Frank asked if he might again look through 
 the telescope. The engineer nodded, and went on with 
 his former conversation. Frank looked, but saw only 
 a mountain upside down ; and Frank said to the man 
 next to him, " What has your master been doing ?" The 
 man answered,
 
 PRANK. 237 
 
 " He was taking the angles." 
 
 And Frank understood no more than he had done be- 
 fore. The engineer turning round at this instant, saw- 
 Frank's curious and distressed look, smiled, and said, 
 
 " My dear, you have a great deal to learn before you 
 can understand the meaning of all this." 
 
 The squire asked if he had now finished his business. 
 
 The engineer answered that he had. 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" exclaimed the squire, " we 
 shall have our road the rest is all Hebrew to me. It 
 is amazingly cold standing here : and I am heartily glad 
 to see that wooden Harry-long-legs go back again into 
 its box." 
 
 Frank smiled. 
 
 " I never want to know how to do these trouble- 
 some things these sorts of scientific puzzles, which 
 a man can get done for him by paying for," added the 
 squire. 
 
 Frank looked at him with surprise ; but there was 
 something droll and good-humoured in the squire's 
 manner which diverted him, and he was glad that they 
 were to go on with him to Rogers'-court, where he 
 cordially invited Jhem to rest and refresh themselves ; 
 being certain, he said, that they must be more than 
 half tired to death, as he was himself, of this tedious 
 business. 
 
 Rogers'-court was a handsome old house, of which 
 the squire was proud, as he was of all that belonged to 
 him. 
 
 In showing this house, his ignorance was still more 
 striking than it had before appeared. He had a fine 
 library which had been left to him lately, as head of the 
 family, he said, by some great bookish man of his name, 
 but to him the books were of neither use or pleasure ; 
 he had several fine historical pictures in his dining-room 
 and drawing-room. Frank began to ask some questions 
 about them, but he perceived that the squire did not 
 even know Darius and Alexander ; he called Alexander 
 a great Roman general. 
 
 While they were looking at the pictures, two boys, 
 older than he was, 'nephews of Squire Rogers, came 
 into the room with their tutor, and joined the circle who 
 were examining the pictures. Frank saw that the boys 
 and the tutor were laughing behind the squire's back, at 
 h>s mistakes. Frank thought that this was very illna-
 
 238 FRANK. 
 
 tured and wrong. He was shocked at it, and he would 
 not go near them. 
 
 When he gave an account of this visit to Mary, he 
 said that he took care not to ask any more questions, 
 lest he should expose " the poor squire." 
 
 This poor, or rather this rich squire's ignorance, made 
 such an impression upon Frank, that for a time he talked 
 of it more than of the engineer's knowledge ; thinking 
 it, perhaps, rather more easy to avoid the one than to 
 obtain the other. 
 
 " My dear Mary," said he, " I must take care not to 
 be an ignorant man. We will look over our histories 
 of Greece, and Rome, and England, to-morrow, and see 
 what we know." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, " and find out what we do not 
 know." 
 
 THE next morning, as soon as Frank's Latin lesson 
 was finished, the floor of his mother's dressing-room 
 was strewed with the heads of Roman and of English 
 kings, queens, emperors, and consuls. Mary put to- 
 gether the joining map of the English kings and queens; 
 Frank holding the box, and giving each head as she 
 called for it in right succession. Not a single mistake 
 was made in her calling. Frank then tried whether he 
 could do as well with the Romans ; but he made one 
 error. He called for Tarquinius Superbus (Tarquin the 
 Proud), before Tarquinius Priscus. 
 
 " I always have made that mistake," said Frank. 
 
 " But you will not make it again," said his mother, 
 " if you consider that Tarquin the Proud was, on ac- 
 count of his pride and wickedness, driven from the 
 throne and from the country, and was the last of the 
 kings of Rome." 
 
 This reason, as Frank found, fixed the fact in his 
 memory ; and he observed that it was much easier and 
 better to remember by reason than merely by rote. 
 While Frank had his Roman kings, consuls, and empe- 
 rors, on one side of the room, and Mary her English 
 kings and queens on the floor at the other, Mary began 
 to amuse herself with proposing visits from one set of 
 crowned heads to the other ; but Frank observed that 
 those should not visit who did not live at the same time, 
 for that they would not know each other's customs.
 
 PRANK. 239 
 
 This led to an inquiry, which ended in putting a stop 
 to all visiting between the kings and queens of England 
 and the kings and consuls of Rome. The time of Julius 
 Caesar's landing at Deal was inquired into, and, to please 
 Mary, he and the Emperor Augustus Caesar wejp per- 
 mitted to see Queen Boadicea, though, as Frank observ- 
 ed, this was absolutely impossible in reality, because 
 Queen Boadicea did not live till eighteen years after- 
 ward. 
 
 They went to their little histories of England, France, 
 and Scotland, and found all the kings and queens, and 
 remarkable people, who lived at the same time ; and 
 they amused themselves with making out parties for 
 these personages, and inventing conversations for them. 
 
 They called this playing at contemporaries ; contem- 
 poraries meaning, as Frank's mother told them, those 
 people who live at the same time. 
 
 Even by this trifling diversion, some useful knowl- 
 edge was gained. New inquiries continually arose, and 
 led to the grand questions, which nations come first in 
 the history of the world ? which next in succession 1 or 
 what states flourished, that is, were in power and pros- 
 perity, at the same time ? 
 
 Frank's mother, in answer to these questions, unroll- 
 ed a chart which hung up in the study ; it was called 
 " The Stream of Time." This stream seemed to issue 
 from clouds, divided into numerous streamlets of differ- 
 ent breadths and various colours : only one of these, of 
 a uniform colour, flowed straight in an uninterrupted 
 course. All the others appeared patched of many col- 
 ours, and were more or less interrupted and broken in 
 their progress ; sometimes running thin till they came 
 to nothing, or were swallowed up in neighbouring 
 streaks, or sometimes several joining together, and after 
 a little space separating in straggling figures. Mary, 
 when first she looked at this map, said it looked like the 
 window, when, on a rainy day, some finger has been 
 'streaked down the glass many times. Frank said that 
 to him it looked more like a coloured drawing, which 
 his father had shown him, of the heart, veins, and arter- 
 ies. Across the coloured streaks were printed numer- 
 ous names, which were the names of the different na- 
 tions and empires of the world. Frank began to read 
 these : Chinese, Jews, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Assyr- 
 ians, Persians, Macedonians, Grecians, Romans
 
 240 FRANK. 
 
 Then pausing, and looking as if confounded by the 
 number of the names, 
 
 " Mamma," said he, "just the minute before you un- 
 rolled that chart I was going to say to Mary 'Afary, we 
 have learned a great deal to day ;' but now that I see how 
 much more we have to iearn, I think we have learned 
 very little. Mamma, how shall we ever in our whole 
 lives have time to learn, or memory enough to remem- 
 ber, the histories of all these people ? How very difficult 
 it will be, and how impossible, before I go to school ! 
 Will it not be quite impossible, mammal" 
 
 She readily allowed that it would be ; and assured 
 him that a complete knowledge of the history of all the 
 nations in the world is possessed by very few men, even 
 after they have studied history half their lives. " There- 
 fore, Frank," said she, " you need not despair, because 
 at your age you know but little. Go on steadily, ac- 
 quiring, as you do, every day a little more and a little 
 more knowledge, and the difficulties will lessen as you 
 advance." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I should like to fix a time 
 for looking at this map with you, and learning from it 
 something about the histories of different nations every 
 day." 
 
 " You may hang the chart up in my dressing-room, 
 and you may come, Frank, if you please, every day at my 
 dressing time," said his mother ; " and I shall be ready 
 to help you as far as I can; but, perhaps, many things 
 will prevent you after the first day from being punctual 
 to that time ; and I rather advise you to leave the map 
 where it is, along with the books of history which you 
 generally read, and where you can readily get at it, and 
 consult it, and look at it, at the times when you want to 
 know any particular fact." 
 
 " That will be best," said Frank. " Now, Mary, let 
 us go out to warm ourselves and play a little. Mamma, 
 will you call out from the window, as you sit at work, 
 ' One ! two ! three ! and away V We will run from the 
 great beech to the great oak." 
 
 After having run several of what Mary justly called 
 good races, they rested ; and Frank, as soon as he had 
 breath, began to try to explain to her the instruments 
 which he had seen with the engineer ; but he ended by 
 saying that she must see them before she could under- 
 stand them, or even understand as much of them as he
 
 FRANK. 241 
 
 did. Without any instrument, however, but three 
 sticks, he said they could play at levelling well enough; 
 and, pushing out the pith from a piece of elder stick, 
 used it instead of a telescope, and stuck it and three 
 sticks together with a nail : then he made a sliding staff 
 with two smooth sallows for Mary : he bid her stand at 
 some distance, and be his levelling-man. And in this 
 manner they set about trying to measure the ups and 
 downs in part of the walk round the shrubbery. And 
 Frank said he could measure the height that the sli- 
 ding stick was raised or lowered by a foot rule which 
 his mother had given to him. This play went on hap- 
 pily for some time, Frank running backwards and for- 
 wards frequently to examine whether Mary was right 
 or wrong, in her raising or lowering of the staff. 
 
 " Now you see I am always right," said Mary, " pray 
 do not come to look any more : trust to me, pray, 
 Frank, do." 
 
 He did so. Till at last, at a certain turn of the walk, 
 the wind being high, and blowing full in Frank's face, he 
 called and bawled out the word " Lower ! I say, lower ! 
 Mary, lower!" in vain. Mary continually answered, 
 " I can't hear :" Frank replied, " You must hear, for I 
 hear you ;" but this answer did not reach Mary, and 
 Frank, after bawling till he was hoarse, grew angry, 
 and, running up to Mary, snatched the staff from her 
 hand, and in an insulting manner declared that she was 
 not fit to be a levelling-man. She pleaded that the wind 
 was so high that she could never hear a word he said; 
 and he being in a passion repeated, 
 
 " You must have heard it if you had been minding 
 what you were about, for I hear you now ; and if you 
 did not hear, could not you have taken off your bonnet V 
 
 " No, because mamma desired me not to take off my 
 bonnet." 
 
 " Because ! because ! Oh, that is only an excuse. 
 You do not like to play at this play, I see," said Frank. 
 
 " I do, I do, indeed," said Mary, " if you would not be 
 angry with me." 
 
 " But how can I help being angry, when I have bawl- 
 ed till I am hoarse, and you never would hear; and 
 when I heard you all the time 1" 
 
 " It is very natural to be provoked with a person for 
 not hearing, I know," said Mary ; " I have felt that my- 
 self. I remember yesterday, when the wind was high, 
 L 21
 
 242 FRANK. 
 
 and I was locked out, and standing at the glass door call- 
 ing, and calling, and calling to Catharine, begging her to 
 let me in, and she did not hear me, though all that time I 
 saw and heard her ; I was very much provoked, though 
 it was not her fault." 
 
 While Mary was saying this, Frank had time to rec- 
 ollect himself. 
 
 " My dear Mary," said he, "I was cross, and you are 
 very good-humoured, and perhaps you are right too. 
 Now go to my place and call to me, and I will stand in 
 yours, and try if I can hear you." 
 
 Frank could not hear one word that Mary said : and 
 Frank acknowledged that he had been unreasonable. 
 He perceived, he said, that the wind, which had been 
 against his voice while he had been giving his orders, 
 had prevented his levelling-man from hearing his "lower 
 and lower." 
 
 " My dear," cried Frank, " now I recollect it is just 
 like the man who fell into the coal-pit in the ' Gentle- 
 man's Magazine !' " 
 
 " Man in the coal-pit, in the Gentleman's Magazine !" 
 said Mary, " What can you mean V 
 
 " My dear, do not you remember the sufferings of 
 Lieutenant George Spearing ? the man who went to a 
 wood to gather some nuts, and fell into an old coal-pit ?" 
 
 " Oh, 1 remember," said Mary, " a hole seventeen yards 
 deep! and he heard the robin-red-breast at daybreak, 
 singing just over the mouth of his pit. Poor fellow !" 
 
 " Yes," continued Frank, " and he heard the horses 
 going to and from the mill, and human voices." 
 
 " And the ducks and hens distinctly," said Mary. 
 
 " And he called, and called," said Frank, " or, as the 
 book says, made the best use of his voice, but to no 
 manner of purpose, for the wind was high, and blew in 
 a line from the mill to the pit ; so that was the reason 
 that he heard all that was done there distinctly, as I 
 heard you, Mary ; but they could never hear him ; his 
 voice was carried by the wind the contrary way, as 
 mine was, my dear ; and I beg your pardon." 
 
 " Think no more of it," said Mary ; " I am glad we 
 did not quarrel about it." 
 
 " If we had it would have been all my fault," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " But now let- us settle how it shall be for the future," 
 said Mary. " Instead of calling in this high wind, why
 
 FRANK. 243 
 
 should not we make signals, as you told me the engi- 
 neer and his levelling-man did when the man was at too 
 great a distance to hear his voice V 
 
 " Very true, very right," said Frank ; " how could I 
 be so foolish as not to think of that ! The simplest 
 thing in the world ! But when I am in a passion I can 
 never think even of the very thing I want, and that I 
 know perfectly well when I am not angry." 
 
 " It is so with everybody, 1 believe," said Mary. 
 
 Justly pleased with herself, Mary was remarkably 
 exact afterward in obeying the signals ; and Frank, 
 anxious to make amends for his foolish passion, was 
 particularly gentle, and careful not to be the least impa- 
 tient. When they went home, Frank told his mother 
 of their little dispute. 
 
 " Now it is all over," said Mary, " it was very well 
 you thought of changing places with me, Frank, other- 
 wise you never could have been so soon convinced that 
 I was in the right." 
 
 " Now it is all over, I was very foolish," said Frank ; 
 "was not I, mammal" 
 J; His mother could not deny it. 
 
 " But, mamma," said Mary, " we were not quite so 
 foolish as the two knights who fought about the gold 
 and silver shield." 
 
 Frank had never read the story, and she had the 
 pleasure of reading it to him. J^et those who have 
 never read it read it now, and may those who have 
 read it before recollect it the next time they want it. 
 
 " In the days of knight-errantry, one of our good old 
 British princes set up a statue to the goddess of victory, 
 in a point where four roads met together. In her right 
 hand she held a spear, and her left rested upon a shield : 
 the outside of this shield was of gold, and the inside of 
 silver. On the former was inscribed, in the old British 
 language, ' To the goddess ever favourable / and on the 
 other, ' For four victories obtained successively over 
 the Picts, and other inhabitants of the northern isl- 
 ands.' 
 
 " It happened one day that two knights completely 
 armed, one in black armour, the other in white, arrived 
 from opposite parts of the country at this statue just 
 about the same time ; and as neither of them had seen 
 it before, they stopped to read the inscription, and ob- 
 serve the excellence of its workmanship, 
 L 3
 
 PRANK. 
 
 " After contemplating it for some time, ' This golden 
 shield,' said the black knight 'Golden shield!' cried 
 the white knight, who was as strictly observing the op- 
 posite side ; ' why, if I have my eyes, it is silver.' ' I 
 know nothing of your eyes,' replied the black knight ; 
 ' but if ever I saw a golden shield in my life, this is 
 one.' ' Yes,' returned the white knight, smiling, ' it is 
 very probable, indeed, that they should expose a shield 
 of gold in so public a place as this ; for my part, I won- 
 der even a silver one is not too strong a temptation for 
 the devotion of some people who pass this way ; and it 
 appears by the date that this has not been here above 
 three years.' 
 
 "The black knight could not bear the smile with 
 which this was delivered, and grew so warm in the dis- 
 pute that it soon ended in a challenge ; they both, 
 therefore, turned their horses, and rode back so far as 
 to have sufficient space for their career: then fixing 
 their spears in their rests, they flew at each other with 
 the greatest fury and impetuosity. Their shock was so 
 rude, and the blow on each side so effectual, that they 
 both fell to the ground, much wounded and bruised, and 
 lay there for some time as in a trance. 
 
 " A good druid, who was travelling that way, found 
 them in this condition. The druids were the physicians 
 of those times, as well as the priests. He had a sover- 
 eign balsam about him, which he had composed him- 
 self, for he was very skilful in all the plants that grew 
 in the fields or the forests ; he stanched their blood, ap- 
 plied his balsam to their wounds, and brought them, as 
 it were, from death to life again. As soon as they were 
 sufficiently recovered, he began to inquire into the oc- 
 casion of their quarrel. ' Why, this man,' cried the 
 black knight, ' will have it that yonder shield is silver.' 
 * And he will have it,' said the other, ' that it is gold ;' 
 and told him all the particulars of the affair. 
 
 " ' Ah,' said the druid, with a sigh, ' you are both of 
 you, my brethren, in the right, and both of you in the 
 wrong : had either of you given himself time to look 
 at the opposite side of the shield, as well as that which 
 first presented itself to view, all this passion and blood- 
 shed might have been avoided. However, there is a 
 very good lesson to be learned from the evils that have 
 befallen you on this occasion. Permit me, therefore, 
 to entreat you, by al : our gods, and by the goddess of
 
 FRANK. 245 
 
 victory in particular, never to enter into any dispute for 
 the future till you have fairly considered both sides of 
 the question.' " 
 
 AT breakfast, on the day when the good-natured en 
 gineer was expected, Frank's eyes turned frequently 
 towards the window; and Mary watched for him too, for 
 she longed to look through his wonderful telescope, 
 and to see men and mountains on their heads. As to 
 the rest, she cared little about taking angles ; she did not 
 know what that meant, or of what use it could be. 
 
 " Mary," said Frank, " you would be more curious 
 about it if you knew what I know." 
 
 " And what do you know, Frank, my dear 1" said 
 Mary. 
 
 At this question he felt his knowledge shrink into a 
 small compass, and he answered, 
 
 " I cannot say that I know much ; but, Mary, look out 
 of the window at that tower at a distance. You see it 1 
 Well ! / believe, mind I say / believe, I do not say that I 
 am sure but I believe that he could, by taking angles, 
 tell you how high and how broad it is, without going 
 nearer to it than we are now ; and 1 think that he could 
 tell how far off it is from hence, and how far from that 
 tower to the mountain opposite, or any other place that 
 he could see at ever so great a distance with his tele- 
 scope." 
 
 " My dear Frank, do you believe this ?" said Mary. 
 
 " I do, for I was present," persisted Frank, " when 
 my father asked him the height and distance of some 
 mountains, as far off as I could see through the tele- 
 scope ; and after looking through his glass, and making 
 some triangles and calculations, he answered and told 
 exactly how high they were, and how far distant." 
 
 Mary thought this was impossible ; but she said, 
 
 " There are many ways of doing things which I do 
 not yet know ; and this may be possible, though I can- 
 not conceive how it can be done." 
 
 " We shall see when the good-natured engineer 
 comes," said Frank. 
 
 His father asked if he remembered the definitions 
 which he had learned of an angle, and a right an- 
 gle, and a square, and a triangle. He told Frank that 
 21*
 
 46 PRANK. 
 
 unless he had perfectly distinct ideas of these, he would 
 not be able to understand what he wished to learn from 
 his good-natured engineer. Frank took his father's ad- 
 vice, and first he showed Mary what is meant by an 
 angle, or a corner ; he drew a square for Mary, and tri- 
 angles of different sorts, and showed her which was a 
 right-angled triangle : teaching her, he found, refreshed 
 his own memory. Mary copied the figures which he 
 had drawn for her, and then cut out similar figures in 
 paper, without looking at the drawings, that she might 
 be quite sure that she had a clear recollection of what 
 she had learned. 
 
 The engineer arrived while Frank's drawings and 
 the bits of paper which Mary had cut into squares and 
 triangles were lying on the table. 
 
 " I know what you have been doing here, my little 
 pupil," said he, smiling at Frank ; " you have been pre- 
 paring for me." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Frank, " and I believe I know them 
 all ; ask me any questions you please." 
 
 " Show me an angle, then," said the gentleman. 
 
 Frank touched the corner of the square. 
 
 The gentleman desired him to show him each of the 
 angles in the square and in the triangle ; and Frank 
 did so. 
 
 Then, laying the square and the triangle before Frank, 
 he asked the names of these figures, which Frank an- 
 swering rightly, he asked, 
 
 " What sort of triangle is this ?" 
 
 Frank answered, " a right-angled triangle." 
 
 " Show me what you mean by a right angle." 
 
 Frank showed what he meant, first in the triangle, and 
 afterward in the square. 
 
 The engineer then took from his pocket a flat-hinged 
 rule, and asked Frank if he could with that rule show 
 him a right angle. 
 
 Frank opened the rule so as to form with it two sides 
 of a square, and pointing to the corner where these two 
 sides met, lie said this was a right angle. 
 
 " Here is a pencil : try if you can draw a right an- 
 gle." 
 
 Frank drew a horizontal straight line. 
 
 " Now," whispered Mary, " I know what you are to 
 do next ; you will draw a perpendicular line in the mid- 
 dle of that, just as if you were going to draw the wall
 
 PRANK. 247 
 
 of a house. Yes," said she, as he drew the line, " I 
 knew that." 
 
 " Hush, little magpie," whispered Frank's mother. 
 
 Frank pointed to the corner where the perpendicular 
 and horizontal line joined, and said that was a right 
 angle. 
 
 " Can you show me another right angle upon this hor- 
 izontal line ?" said the engineer. " Do you see only one, 
 or do you see two V 
 
 " I see two," said Frank ; and he pointed to the cor- 
 ners on the right hand and on the left hand of the per- 
 pendicular line, where it joined the horizontal line. 
 
 The engineer put his hand upon Frank's head, and 
 said, "Now I am satisfied that you know what is meant 
 by an angle, a right angle, and a triangle." 
 
 Mary whispered something to Frank's mother at this 
 time, who smiled, and said to the engineer, " Mary is 
 surprised that you ask Frank so often to show you an 
 angle in different things." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, " as if you could not believe he 
 knew it." 
 
 " I am very careful on these subjects," said the engi- 
 neer, " for 1 know children are sometimes taught very 
 inaccurately, and then they have such confused ideas, 
 that it is impossible to make them understand what is 
 meant. A young lad was once sent to me to be turn- 
 ed into a surveyor, who could for some time understand 
 nothing that I endeavoured to explain to him ; because, 
 though he talked of an angle, and a right angle, he did 
 not know clearly what was meant by either ; in short, 
 he mistook a triangle for an angle. Had he confessed 
 to me his ignorance at once, I could have corrected his 
 error." 
 
 " Poor boy, he had been ill taught, I suppose," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " You have been well taught, and ought to be thank- 
 ful for it," said the engineer. 
 
 " Would you be so good as to come to this window, 
 sir," interrupted Frank* " Do you see that tower^at a 
 distance ? Could you, by taking angles, as you stand 
 here, find out its breadth and height, without going to 
 measure any part of it, sir!" 
 , " I could," said the engineer. 
 
 " There, Mary ! I was right," cried Frank. " But now, 
 sir, will you be so very kind as to explain to me how it 
 is done ?"
 
 248 FRANK. 
 
 " I would be so very kind, if I could," answered the 
 good-natured engineer ; " but I cannot ; I should only 
 puzzle you. If I were to attempt to explain it, you could 
 not understand me." 
 
 " Oh, pray ! pray, sir, try !" said Mary, " I dare say 
 Frank would understand you." 
 
 " If you would only try," said Frank, " I will tell you 
 honestly, afterward, if I don't " 
 
 " I am sure you would," said the engineer ; " but I tell 
 you beforehand that it is impossible." 
 
 Frank looked at his father, hoping that he knew him 
 better ; and that he would say that it was possible. His 
 father shook his head, answering, 
 
 " It is impossible, my dear, till you have learned a 
 great deal more." 
 
 " Oh, I am very much disappointed," said he, " for I 
 expected that I should have known all these things this 
 morning." 
 
 " But could you reasonably expect, my young friend," 
 said the engineer, " to know in one morning, in one 
 hour, in one quarter of an hour, what I have been many 
 mornings, many days, not to say years, in learning?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said Frank, laughing, " that would 
 be rather unreasonable." 
 
 " Then must Frank wait till he is grown up quite, 
 mamma 1" said Mary. 
 
 " No, that is not necessary," said his mother. 
 
 " How old must he be, mamma, before he can under- 
 stand them ?" 
 
 " How wise must he be, you should ask, my dear," 
 said his mother ; " for his being able to understand such 
 things will not depend upon the number of years he has 
 lived, but upon what he learned in those years." 
 
 " True, madam, there is Mr. , what's his name "? 
 
 the 'gentleman who rode with us the other day, Mr. Rog- 
 ers, who lias lived more years than I have, but you saw 
 that he did not understand these things," said the en- 
 gineer. 
 
 " Nor wish to understand them," said Frank : " that 
 did surprise me." 
 
 " And there is the gardener's boy, Frank," said his fa- 
 ther, " who is not many years older than you are, and 
 he understands that which you want to know." 
 
 " Does he, indeed ?" said Frank. " Yes ; now I re- 
 member seeing in his book drawings of triangles and
 
 FRANK. 249 
 
 circles, and I could not guess of what use they could 
 be." 
 
 " His father said, as you told me, that he was learn- 
 ing mathematics," said Mary, " and trig " 
 
 " Trigonometry, I suppose," said the engineer; 
 " which, translating the Greek word into English for 
 you, my little lady, means the measuring of triangles."" 
 
 14 Of triangles !" repeated Frank, taking up one of the 
 paper triangles which lay upon the table, and looking 
 at it. " Can measuring this have any thing to do with 
 the measuring that tower V 
 
 " Yes ; a great deal to do with it," answered the engi- 
 neer. " I cannot explain to you how ; but I may, without 
 giving you any false ideas, tell you in general, that the 
 power we possess of measuring that tower, and the most 
 distant objects that can be seen on earth, and not those 
 only on earth, but those in the heavens, depends upon 
 our understanding the properties of a triangle." 
 
 " If the gardener's boy has learned trigo-no-me-try," 
 said Mary, " why cannot Frank!" 
 
 " Is there any quick way of learning it V" asked Frank. 
 
 " No, there is no quick way," said the engineer. 
 
 " You must go regularly through this," said his father, 
 taking down a book from the bookcase. 
 
 " What is it V cried Frank, seizing and opening it. 
 " The very thing I saw with the gardener's son, Euclid's 
 Elements of Geometry." 
 
 *' A square is a figure that has four " 
 
 " Oh, we know that," said Mary, looking over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " But how shall I understand these drawings of cir- 
 cles and triangles ?" said Frank : " the liae A B is equal 
 to the line C D; proposition the 1st, proposition the 
 2d; and axiom the 1st, axiom the 2d: almost as hard 
 sounding and difficult as the beginning of the Latin 
 grammar." 
 
 " Yes," said his father, " in the beginning of all sci- 
 ences there are difficulties ; a sort of grammar which 
 must be learned before you can get on to the smooth 
 and pleasant part." 
 
 " But in this book, and in this science, you will find," 
 said the engineer, " that each step leads on securely to 
 another : not one will ever be lost." 
 
 " That is a comfort," said Frank. 
 
 " But," said Mary," " I hope we may look through the 
 L3
 
 250 t FRANK. 
 
 telescope, and see the men and mountains standing on 
 their heads." 
 
 The engineer promised that she should. But he had 
 some business to do before he could comply with her 
 request ; and, in the meantime, the young people were 
 desired to go out. 
 
 While Mary went to put on her bonnet, Frank was 
 left in the hall by himself. Several of the engineer's 
 books and instruments, which had been taken out of his 
 carriage, were lying on the hall table, and among others, 
 one of the telescopes belonging to his theodolite. 
 
 Frank ventured to take up this telescope, which he 
 ought not to have touched ; he thought, however, that 
 he could not do it any harm by just looking through it. 
 He took off the brass cover at one end, and slid back 
 the brass slide at the other end, and looked through it 
 at the tower, and at some men who were at work in a 
 distant field. 
 
 " What can be the reason," said he to himself, " that 
 these men seem to stand on their heads ? This telescope 
 looks as if it were quite the same as my father's. I 
 wish I could find out the reason. I should be so glad 
 to prove that I could understand it, though they all say 
 I cannot." 
 
 He saw some very slight wires, as he thought them, 
 behind one of the glasses ; and as there were none such 
 in his father's, he fancied that these had something to 
 do with the secret which he longed to discover. 
 
 " I know how to unscrew this glass," said he, "I will 
 not do it the least harm." 
 
 He unscrewed the glass, and looking into the tube, 
 he could scarcely see what had appeared to him to 
 be wires. He put his hand in to feel for them. 
 There were no wires, there was nothing that he could 
 feel nothing ! except some very slight cobwebs. These 
 threw no light on his difficulty ; he blew them away, 
 and despairing of making farther discoveries, and un- 
 conscious of the injury he had done to the instrument, 
 he screwed on the glass, and left the telescope, as he 
 thought, in perfect safety, exactly where he had found 
 it on the table. 
 
 Frank having no idea that he had done any mischief, 
 did not even mention to Mary his having looked at the 
 telescope. She put it out of his recollection by begin- 
 ning to talk to him the moment she saw him about the 

 
 FRANK. 251 
 
 parrot's cage, the door of which had been broken ; and 
 
 Mrs. Catharine, who was now standing with that broken 
 
 door in her hand, was anxious that it should be mended 
 immediately. 
 
 Mary had undertaken for Frank that he had both the 
 power and the inclination quickly to accomplish her 
 wishes. 
 
 Frank instantly ran in search of the osiers that were 
 necessary for the work. As there was no one in the 
 housekeeper's room except Mrs. Catharine, his mother 
 gave them leave to do the job there, and to take the 
 osiers to the cage, instead of carrying the cage to the 
 osiers. She, moreover, was so good as to promise that 
 she would call them as soon as the engineer had finished 
 writing his letters, if any thing entertaining should be 
 going on. 
 
 The repairs of Poll's habitation cost Frank more 
 trouble than he had expected ; as it often happens, he 
 found that which he thought could be done in five min- 
 utes, required five-and-twenty. 
 
 But the door at last turned easily on its osier hinges, 
 and Poll was just replaced in her cage, when their atten- 
 tion was suddenly roused by hearing somebody sobbing 
 in the passage. Mrs. Catharine opened her room door, 
 and they saw a black boy standing in a corner crying. 
 Mrs. Catharine asked what was the matter. The boy 
 began to stammer something in broken English; but 
 before he could get out any thing intelligible, a man 
 whom Frank recollected to be one of the engineer's as- 
 sistants, came into the passage, and told Mrs. Catharine 
 that she need not waste her pity upon this boy. 
 
 " No use, ma'am, listening to him, or asking him any 
 questions, for he is a sad liar never can speak a word 
 of truth. His master, who is the best of masters, has 
 done all he can to cure him, and so have I. It was 
 but last week he was guilty of a falsehood, and his mas- 
 ter said, and, begging your pardon, ma'am, I swore, he 
 should be parted with the next lie he told ; and he has 
 told a lie now, and he is to go ; that is what he is crying 
 for, and nobody can help him." 
 
 " Nobody can help him, to be sure, if he is a liar," said 
 Mrs. Catharine, who held liars in just abhorrence. 
 
 " But are they sure he is a liar 1" said Frank. 
 
 " He cannot deny it," said the man. 
 
 The negro boy went on sobbing; and when Mrs.
 
 252 FRANK. 
 
 Catharine asked if he had any thing to say for himself, 
 he could only say, 
 
 " Me liar last week, ma'am, yes ; to-day, no liar no 
 lie!" 
 
 " Oh, if you were a liar last week," said Mrs. Catha- 
 rine, " who can know that you are not telling a lie this 
 minute V 
 
 The boy turned his face to the wall, and cried mo*e 
 violently than before. 
 
 " I can't help it, nor nobody can help it," said Mrs. 
 Catharine: "I have nothing to say for liars. Miss 
 Mary, Master Frank, you had better go away, if you 
 please ; you have no farther business here." 
 
 " But," said Mary, turning back, as they reluctantly 
 went up stairs, " I think he is telling the truth now ; are 
 you sure, Catharine, that he has not told the truth to- 
 day V 
 
 " Pray, good Catharine, find that out, wifl you," said 
 Frank. 
 
 Mrs. Catharine, whose countenance now looked se- 
 vere, as it always did when she thought a liar stood 
 near her, said she must leave it to his master, who knew 
 his character, to settle the business ; it was not proper 
 for her to interfere. " When a boy was a liar, and told 
 a lie last week, who can know," said she, " that he is 
 not telling a lie this minute 1" 
 
 " But since he confessed that he told a falsehood last 
 week," said Frank, " perhaps do, do, good Catharine, 
 inquire into it. You know papa says you are a just 
 woman." 
 
 " Well, welt, go you both of you out of the way, in 
 the first and foremost place, for I am sure your papa 
 and mamma would not be pleased to see you here, 
 meddling with such things so up stairs this moment." 
 
 Up stairs that moment they went, and Frank, followed 
 by Mary, who could hardly keep pace with him, ran to 
 the library, where he had left the engineer writing: but 
 he was gone. 
 
 "Well, Headlong!" said his father, when Frank 
 threw open the door, " What now V 
 
 " And why do you look so terribly disappointed, 
 Mary ]" said Frank's mother : " I told you that I would 
 call you as soon as the engineer could show you his 
 telescope." 
 
 " Oh, it is something of much more consequence," 
 said Mary.
 
 FRANK. 253 
 
 Frank told all they had heard ; " and though Catha- 
 rine says it is not our business, yet it is everybody's 
 business to see justice done, especially to a poor black, 
 boy, who cannot speak for himself, is it not, papa*" 
 said Frank. " I will go and find out that good-natured 
 master of his, and ask him to go to the bottom of the 
 affair this minute." 
 
 Frank's father held his hand, however, and prevented 
 him from going ; for though he liked his eagerness to 
 have justice done to the negro boy, he thought, he said, 
 that this boy's master must know his character better 
 than any stranger could ; and that his master would in 
 all probability take care to find out the truth without 
 Frank's interference. ;,.?< 
 
 " But," said Frank, " they are going to turn him out 
 of the house directly. Only just let me find the engi- 
 neer, and tell him this." 
 
 " Here he is, my dear," said Frank's mother; "now 
 do not be in a hurry. Speak distinctly; for I could 
 hardly understand your story, you spoke so very 
 quickly." 
 
 The engineer came into the room with his telescope 
 in his hand ; that telescope with which Frank had med- 
 dled. A sudden flash came across his mind : a thrill 
 came all over him. 
 
 " Miss Mary," said the engineer, " I am sorry that I 
 cannot keep my promise to you yet ; but I must first 
 set to rights something which has been broken in my 
 telescope. The crosswires," continued he, turning to 
 Frank's father, " I should say the cross cobweb threads 
 have been broken, and swept away, as I believe, by a 
 little lying boy." 
 
 " No ; they were broken by me," interrupted Frank, 
 stepping forward and standing firm, though he grew ex- 
 tremely pale. 
 
 " By you !" repeated Frank's father and mother, and 
 Mary, with astonishment. 
 
 " By you !" repeated the engineer. " I never thought 
 it possible ! and I have been on the point of committing 
 a great injustice." 
 
 " Oh, sir !" said Frank, " stop them from turning away 
 the negro boy, and punish me as you please. May I go 
 and tell them V 
 
 " Stay where you are, Frank," said his father. 
 
 The engineer went immediately to repair the injustice 
 22
 
 254 FRANK. 
 
 that had been done to the poor boy. Frank's father and 
 mother continued in the meantime quite silent. Mary 
 saw that they were much displeased : she hoped, how- 
 ever, that it would all be over when the engineer, re- 
 turning, said that he had seen his servant, and that the 
 negro boy was safe and happy again. 
 
 Frank, relieved from a dreadful suspense, now took 
 breath, and he went forward towards the table on which 
 the telescope lay. He told exactly what he had done, 
 when his curiosity had tempted him to meddle with it, 
 but said, 
 
 " I assure you, sir, that I did not know that I had 
 done any mischief, or I would have told you of it that 
 moment. I never guessed that the negro boy was ac- 
 cused of it. I am sure I never thought that his crying 
 had any thing to do with my having meddled with the 
 telescope." 
 
 " But you knew, Frank," said his father, " that you did 
 wrong in meddling with what was not your own very 
 wrong. Whether you did mischief or not was mere ac- 
 cident. You were too ignorant, you see, to know 
 whether you had injured the instrument or not." 
 
 " You thought that you were only brushing away 
 useless cobwebs," said the engineer, " when you were 
 destroying an essential part of the instrument." 
 
 Mary said she hoped that it could be repaired. The 
 engineer said that it could, and Frank was glad ; but, 
 looking up at his father, he saw that the displeasure in 
 his countenance was not abated. 
 
 " You have done wrong, Frank," repeated he. " And 
 though the mischief can be repaired, that does not di- 
 minish your fault. You knew that it was not strictly 
 honourable or honest to touch what was not yours. 
 And when once you deviate from strict honesty, no one 
 can tell what the consequence may be. Not only a 
 valuable instrument, but the character and happiness of 
 one of your fellow-creatures, might have been destroyed, 
 even by this, which you thought an error not worth 
 mentioning, and had forgotten while you were mending 
 a parrot's cage." 
 
 " Let this be a warning to you, Frank, as long as you 
 live," said his mother. 
 
 And that it might be so, that the impression might not 
 be lightly effaced from his mind, his father ordered him 
 to go to his own room, and forbid him from mixing with
 
 FRANK. 255 
 
 the rest of the family, and from seeing this day any 
 thing that the engineer was going to show them. 
 
 The engineer was too sensible a man to ask that 
 Frank should be spared this punishment ; he knew that 
 the purpose of just punishment is to do future good. 
 Far from begging that Frank might stay and be forgiven, 
 he strengthened the right impression. 
 
 " I am going to mend what you broke, Frank," said 
 he, " and 1 know that it would entertain you to see how 
 this is done. But before I heard what your father has 
 just now said to you, I had in my own mind determined 
 not to let you have this pleasure. I think," continued 
 he, speaking to Frank's motherland laying a detaining 
 hand upon Frank, who was leaving the room, " I think 
 that people are mistaken who say that when children 
 tell the truth and confess a fault, they should not be 
 punished for it in any way. I have always let my chil- 
 dren feel the natural consequences, or receive the just 
 punishment for their faults, even when confessed ; else 
 they would be quite deceived as to what would happen 
 to them in real life. And besides, there would be little 
 or no merit in telling the truth if people were never to 
 suffer by it. My boys can tell the truth and take the 
 consequences, thank Heaven ; and so I see can yours." 
 
 This was a comfort to Frank ; he walked more firmly 
 out of the room. Mary followed him, but he would not 
 let her share his punishment. 
 
 " No, Mary," said he, " you hare done nothing wrong : 
 go back and be happy, or I shall be more unhappy." 
 
 Mary left him, because she was afraid of making him 
 more unhappy. But though she saw and heard many 
 entertaining things this day ; though a microscope was 
 lent to her, with which she saw the spider draw out the 
 fine cobweb thread which was to repair the damage ; 
 and though she watched with breathless attention the 
 nice operation of replacing the cross threads, and 
 though she learned their use, and even though she saw 
 in this wonderful glass the men and mountains on their 
 heads yet none of the things she saw or heard pleased 
 her half as much as if Frank had shared her pleasure. 
 
 FRANK had one comfort, and a great comfort it was ; 
 during the hours when he was sitting lonely in his own
 
 256 PRANK. 
 
 room, he heard the negro boy whistling merrily. Good 
 Mrs. Catharine came in the first interval which the bu- 
 siness of the day allowed her, to tell Frank how happy 
 the poor black boy had been ever since his master had 
 been convinced that he had told the truth. 
 
 " And I am convinced," continued she, " that what has 
 now happened, and, in short, his being saved from harm 
 by your telling just the plain truth, will show him more 
 to his own feelings the use and beauty of truth, as I may 
 say, than all the scoldings he ever had : ay, and than 
 all the whippings about lying which he had with his old 
 master." 
 
 This poor negro had been but a very short time with 
 the engineer ; he had formerly lived with the cruel cap- 
 tain of a slave-ship, and tyranny had made him a cow- 
 ard and liar. 
 
 The next morning Frank heard him singing the fol- 
 lowing ditty, while he was brushing his master's coat, 
 in the court near the window of Frank's room. 
 
 " M ungo happy man, sir, 
 Never lie again, sir, 
 Mungo he may thank 
 Truth-tell-Master Frank." 
 
 These negro rhymes gave more pleasure than Frank 
 had ever received from any compliment before, either 
 in prose or verse. This day all was bright to Frank 
 within and without. His friend the engineer shook him 
 by the hand when he bid him good morning. And 
 Frank observed with pleasure that no precautions were 
 taken to prevent him from touching the instruments ; 
 but that his honour was trusted, and that all seemed se- 
 cure that he would not repeat his fault. 
 
 This day he was allowed to follow the engineer about 
 wherever he went. At about twelve o'clock he heard 
 him say, " I must go out now, and take an observation 
 of the sun." 
 
 An instrument which Frank had never before seen 
 was now produced. It was like a triangle made of 
 brass, and there were on it two small mirrors, one in 
 the centre, and the other between the centre and the 
 circumference of the circle ; there was also a telescope 
 attached to the instrument. 
 
 A cup or box, filled with quicksilver, was placed on 
 a smooth part of the gravel walk in the sunshine. Upon
 
 FRANK. 257 
 
 the quicksilver floated a circular piece of flat glass, and 
 through this, in the quicksilver, was seen the image of 
 the sun. 
 
 Frank was going to ask some question ; but his moth- 
 er, who was standing beside him, put her finger on his 
 lips, and he was silent. All were silent for some sec- 
 onds, while the engineer attentively looked through the 
 telescope at the image of the sun in the quicksilver. 
 When he had finished his observation, the engineer held 
 the instrument for Frank, and bid him look through the 
 telescope at the quicksilver. Frank looked, and ex- 
 claimed, " I see two suns ! both as red as blood one 
 dancing about now it is still now they are coming 
 close together now they almost joia they quite join! 
 Oh J Mary, look at them." 
 
 Mary looked, and was more delighted than Frank 
 seemed to be ; for Frank, having once gratified his curi- 
 osity by the sight, began to look uneasy. 
 
 " I want to know the reason of all this," said he ; 
 " but I know that if I ask the reason, or the use of this, 
 that you will tell me that I cannot understand these 
 things yet." 
 
 " True," said the engineer, " I must l>e cruel again to 
 him, Mary ; I can tell him only that this instrument is 
 called a sextant, and that little vessel full of quicksilver 
 is called an artificial horizon; and that what I have 
 been doing is called taking the altitude of the sun : hara 
 words, without any meaning to you as yet." 
 
 " But," said his father, " it is something even to have 
 had your ears accustomed to them, and to have learned 
 to join the names with the sight of these things. You 
 will know them again when you see them, and your 
 ears, eyes, and understanding will not be all puzzled at 
 once, as they are at this moment." 
 
 Frank, mute and motionless, stood watching the 
 packing up of the sextant, which was now put into its 
 box, and of the quicksilver cup and mirror, which were 
 put into their case. The lid was closed down and lock- 
 ed, and the engineer ordered it to be carried off. 
 
 Frank at this instant uttered a deep sigh, which made 
 all eyes turn towards him. He looked such a disconso- 
 late figure, that the engineer, his father, his mother, and 
 even Mary, could not forbear laughing. 
 
 " Might I ask one question, sir," crtMd Frank to the en- 
 gineer, taking hold of his hand. 
 22*
 
 258 FRANK. 
 
 " No, not one more," replied his father, " you mast 
 jiot be troublesome, Frank. Let go that hand: you 
 have had more than your share of him and of the con- 
 versation ; now your mother and 1 must have our 
 share, and you must not torment this much-enduring 
 gentleman with any more questions." 
 
 The engineer shook Frank's hand kindly as he let it 
 go, and assured his father and mother that he had not 
 been tormented; that he always felt pleased, not 
 plagued, by the sensible questions of children. He was 
 used to children, he said, and fond of them. 
 
 Mary asked if he had any of his own. 
 
 " Yes, thank Heaven ! I have," answered he. 
 
 Mary was going to ask how many ; but recollecting 
 that Frank had been desired not to ask any more ques- 
 tions., she stopped. The engineer, understanding this, 
 smiled, and, in answer to what she wished to ask, held 
 up four fingers of his hand. Then, accepting an invita- 
 tion to walk round the grounds, he offered his arm to 
 Frank's mother, and Frank and Mary asked and obtain- 
 ed permission to go with them. They were in hopes 
 that he would tell something more about his children. 
 
 And they learned, in consequence of his answers to 
 the questions which their mother asked, that two of his 
 children were boys ; that the eldest, Lewis, was a year 
 and a half older than Frank, and had been at school two 
 years ; the youngest was but six years old, and was to 
 remain at home some time longer. 
 
 Now Frank, who knew that he was soon to go to 
 school himself, listened eagerly, and so did Mary, in 
 hopes of hearing something about this school and these 
 boys. But, unluckily, nothing more was said about 
 Lewis, or his brother, or his school. 
 
 The conversation turned upon education, and seemed 
 above Frank and Mary's comprehension ; yet they felt 
 still interested in listening to it, because it in some way 
 concerned themselves. The engineer said something 
 in so low a voice that it was inaudible by the young- 
 sters who were walking before him ; but it was clear 
 that it was quite audible (that is, to be heard) by those 
 who were walking with him. For Frank's father and 
 mother said with emphasis, 
 
 " This gives me great pleasure." 
 And Mary whispered to Frank, " I am sure that must 
 be some thingabout you do you think we may hear it 1"
 
 FRANK. 259 
 
 " No, we must not listen to that, I believe," said 
 Frank ; " but hush now, Mary, he is speaking loud again." 
 
 " Madam," said the engineer, " you are doing for your 
 son what I should have wished to have done for my 
 own boy ; but that my business takes me so often from 
 home, that I cannot do as much for him as I could 
 wish." 
 
 Frank's father answered that in these days of educa- 
 tion, there was, perhaps, as great danger of doing too 
 much as of doing too little for children. He had ob- 
 served, he said, that most of his acquaintance had been 
 either too careless or too careful of their boys before 
 they were sent to school. Sometimes they were hu- 
 moured in every thing at home, because, as their pa- 
 rents said, they would have hardships enough at school : 
 but this made those hardships the greater, because the 
 master was then to whip the ill-temper out of the spoil- 
 ed child by main force ; and, perhaps, in so doing, to 
 break his spirit for ever. Some bays are sent from 
 home in such gross ignorance, that they must work 
 doubly hard, or be left behind their companions, or be 
 exposed to shame eternal, or to eternal flogging ; other 
 parents run into the contrary extreme, and by way of 
 preparing them to get on, or to get before their competi- 
 tors at school, cram them with lessons, disgust them with 
 learning, and weary the runners before the race begins. 
 
 " These overtaught children are often the most to be 
 pitied," said the engineer ; " because, as far as I have 
 observed, in the midst of all their teaching, in science 
 at least, they are taught nothing accurately ; and when 
 they go to school, or into the world, they are all in the 
 condition of my puzzled lad, with his angles turned tri- 
 angles." 
 
 " I pity the poor child," said Frank's mother, " who, 
 when he goes from home, fancying that he knows a 
 great deal, finds, when he gets into the midst of a great 
 school, that he knows nothing rightly, and that he must 
 unlearn all that he has learned at home : double, double, 
 toil and trouble, both to schoolmaster and to child." 
 
 " Yes," said the engineer, " I hardly know which is 
 in that case most to be pitied." 
 
 As soon as the conversation came to this point, 
 Frank and Mary, who had no pity for schoolmasters, 
 and who did not know why they should have any, look- 
 ed at each other as if they had said,
 
 S60 PRANK. 
 
 " Do not you think this is growing tiresome 1" 
 
 Then, by mutual consent, at the same instant both 
 set off to their desert island, where they were very 
 happy, working away at Friday's new garden, till a 
 shower of hail drove them home. 
 
 When they went into the library they were yet 
 breathless with running ; but they stopped their puffing 
 and panting, for their mother was reading to their father 
 and the engineer something which seemed to be very 
 entertaining ; they were smiling as they stood before 
 the sofa-table listening to her: and as he came in, Frank 
 thought that he heard his own name, but of this he was 
 uncertain. He peeped over his mother's shoulder to 
 see what book she was reading. It was a voyage of 
 discovery to the great Loo-choo island, on the coast of 
 Corea. 
 
 His father told him, that of this island and its inhabi- 
 tants little or nothing was known in England before 
 the account of this expedition was published. 
 
 Mary asked whether the inhabitants of Loo-choo 
 were savages or civilized people ? 
 
 Frank said he supposed, from the sound of the name, 
 that they were Chinese. 
 
 His father said they were not savages ; very far from 
 it : that they were more like the Chinese than any 
 other people of whom we have any account. 
 
 So Frank saw, by one of the prints of the men and 
 women to which his mother turned. 
 
 " These people, though civilized, are ignorant of many 
 of our arts ; quite as ignorant as you are, Frank, of the 
 use of such instruments as you saw this morning." 
 
 " And one of these Loo-choo people," said the engi- 
 neer, "an intelligent young man of the name of Made- 
 ra, was as anxious as you were, Frank, to understand 
 the sextant, and as much mortified when he could not 
 at once comprehend it and all its uses." 
 
 The engineer drew Frank towards him on one side, 
 Mary on the other, and putting an arm round each 
 
 "Now, ma'am," said he, "that we are comfortably 
 settled,' will you be so good as to read on." 
 
 And Frank's mother read on as follows : 
 
 " But Madera was not a man to be thrown into de- 
 spair by difficulty ; on the contrary, he persevered in 
 observing with his sextant ; and the more the difficulty 
 was made apparent, the more keenly he laboured to
 
 FRANK. 261 
 
 overcome it. The progress which he made in a few 
 hours, in the mere practical operation of taking angles 
 and altitudes, was not surprising, because there is, in 
 fact, not much difficulty in it ; but he was no wise satis- 
 fied with this proficiency, and seemed anxious to apply 
 his knowledge to some useful purpose. 
 
 " With a sextant and stand I made him take the dis- 
 tance between the sun and moon four or five times ; on 
 every occasion he was wonderfully near the truth. We 
 endeavoured to confine him to one object, merely to 
 ascertain the time of apparent noon, and I think we 
 succeeded in explaining to him how this was to be 
 done. 
 
 " Some time after this, and just before the English 
 ships were to leave the island, Madera came on board 
 with the sextant in his hand ; he was in such distress 
 that he scarcely knew what he was about. In this dis- 
 tracted state he sat down to breakfast with us, during 
 which he continued lighting his pipe and smoking as 
 fast as he could; drinking and eating whatever was 
 placed before him. After he had a little recovered 
 himself, he asked what books it would be necessary to 
 read to enable him to make use of the sextant ; I gave 
 him a Nautical Almanack, and told him that he must 
 understand that in the first instance : he opened it, and 
 looking at the figures, held up his hands in despair, and 
 was at last forced to confess that it was a hopeless 
 business. He therefore put the sextant up, and bade us 
 farewell." 
 
 " Poor Madera !" 
 
 " I think," said Mary, u that Madera is very like 
 Frank." 
 
 " But fortunately," said the engineer, " Frank does 
 not live at the Island of Loo-choo ; nor is his instructer," 
 added he, looking at Frank's father, going " to sail away 
 to-morrow, and leave him without books, or without any 
 means of satisfying his laudable curiosity." 
 
 Frank and Mary had been so much interested by what 
 they had heard of Madera, that the moment their moth- 
 er laid down the book, they asked leave to look for the 
 place where Madera's name was first mentioned, and 
 read all they could find concerning him ; his dexterity in 
 managing his knife and fork the first time he dined with
 
 FRANK. 
 
 the English in the captain's cabin; his quickness in 
 learning to speak English, and in observing all, even 
 the most trifling customs ; his surprise when he first 
 heard one of the officers read from a book, and his great 
 curiosity to know how that wonder was performed; 
 his agility in dancing; his politeness, affection, grati- 
 tude, and, above all, attachment to his parents, and wife, 
 and children, which prevented him from accepting the 
 English captain's offer to bring him to England. 
 
 All these things delighted Frank and Mary ; so that 
 they determined that, at the first convenient opportu- 
 nity, their Robinson Crusoe's island should be turned 
 into the great Loo-choo island ; and that Frank should 
 be turned into Madera, and Mary into the English cap- 
 tain. But they had sense enough to agree that this 
 must not be done during the time that the engineer 
 should stay with them. 
 
 He was very busy drawing plans part of this day. 
 Frank and Mary took great care not to be troublesome 
 to him ; and therefore they were permitted to stay in 
 the same room with him while he was at work, and he 
 allowed them to look into his portfolio at some plans of 
 bridges and buildings. They tried to build one of these, 
 a tower, with their little bricks, which the engineer did 
 not, like Master Tom, call baby's toys. 
 
 Frank and Mary had often tried to build a bridge, but 
 they never could succeed in forming an arch, because 
 they had not all the different shaped bricks that were 
 necessary. To their great delight, the engineer gave 
 them a model of a bridge which could be taken to pieces 
 and put together again. 
 
 After looking at some of the plans which he found 
 in the portfolio, Frank thought that he could draw the 
 plan of a house without much difficulty. 
 
 There was one thing that puzzled him a little ; he 
 saw at the bottom of each plan the words, by a scale of 
 one twentieth of an inch to a foot. However, he set to 
 work at his drawing, and he said to Mary, 
 
 " I will draw a plan of this house for you." 
 
 But when his plan was finished, Mary observed that 
 some of the rooms looked larger than they were in re- 
 ality, and some smaller. When he showed his draw- 
 ing to his friend the engineer, he found many more 
 faults with it. 
 
 " This library, in which we are now sitting," said he
 
 FHANft. 263 
 
 " is, I should think, fully two feet broader than the break- 
 fast-room. Your drawing-room and dining-room in this 
 plan are the same size, and yet in reality you know that 
 one is longer than the other. And the breakfast-room is 
 not half its real breadth." 
 
 " That is true," said Frank ; " but I know the measures 
 of the rooms, and I will write them in nice little figures, 
 as I see in your plans, then everybody can know the 
 sizes." 
 
 " Then the figures would do as well without your 
 drawing. Where are the stairs in your house V 
 
 " Oh, I forgot the stairs," said Frank ; " but that does 
 not signify, because I can mark the place for them here 
 in the hall : and as to the break fast- room, that is very 
 bad, I acknowledge, because I forgot the passage, and 
 was obliged to squeeze it out of the breakfast-room." 
 
 " The whole house is much longer in this drawing 
 than it ought to be, and none of the rooms are in right 
 proportion." 
 
 " So 1 see." 
 
 "As you know the measures of all the rooms, you 
 might easily have represented them in their right pro- 
 portions," said his friend, " if you had drawn your plan 
 by a scale." 
 
 " Would you be so kind as to show me how to do 
 that," said Frank, " when you are not busy V 
 
 He had finished all his business for this morning, he 
 said, and he was very willing to assist Frank. 
 
 " First," said he, " we must know the measure of the 
 house, of which you want to draw the plan." 
 
 Of this, Frank not being quite certain, he said that he 
 would go and measure. But he had only a foot rule. 
 Mary offered her riband-yard, which was three feet 
 long. 
 
 But the engineer said he could lend them something 
 that would do the business better. He bid Frank ring 
 the bell, and desired that all the things that were in the 
 lefthand pocket of his carriage should be brought to 
 . him. Among these was a measuring-tape, divided into 
 feet and inches. This he lent to Frank, who went out 
 with Mary, and measured the length and breadth of the 
 house exactly. It was eighty feet long, and sixty feet 
 broad. 
 
 His friend then showed him how to express this in 
 drawing by a scale. He showed him on his foot rule 
 the divisions into inches, and he said, 
 

 
 264 FRANK. 
 
 " We will draw it by a scale of a tenth of an inch to 
 a foot. Eighty tenths of an inch, how many whole 
 inches is that ?" 
 
 Frank instantly answered, " Eight." 
 
 His friend showed him how, with the compasses, to 
 take exactly the measure of eight inches, and to mark 
 that down with the compasses on the paper, and in the 
 same manner he took the measure of the breadth of the 
 house, and one after another of all the rooms. This 
 was not done without some difficulty, for Frank fre- 
 quently let the points of the compasses slip upon the 
 ivory rule, and in taking the compasses from the rule to 
 the paper, held them so as sometimes to close, and some- 
 times to open them, and the measure was to be taken 
 over again. His friend showed him how to hold the 
 compasses so as to prevent this. And as Frank had 
 been already used to drawing lines straight and parallel, 
 the plan of his house was now tolerably neatly finish- 
 ed ; and this time the staircase was not forgotten ; the 
 breakfast-room was not robbed to make space for the 
 passage, and the library was of its just length, and, as 
 Mary observed, none of the rooms were too large or too 
 small all were like reality. 
 
 " And now," said Frank, " that I know how to draw 
 by a scale, Mary, you shall never see such wretched 
 plans as this," added he, crumpling up his first plan as 
 he spoke, and throwing it away. 
 
 After the portfolio of drawings had been exhausted, 
 Frank and Mary were entertained with the sight of some 
 books of prints of temples and ruins, at which the en- 
 gineer and their father were looking. The engineer 
 often stopped, as he was turning over the leaves, to point 
 out to them the characteristic differences between the 
 styles of architecture in different countries and at dif- 
 ferent periods ; and when he saw how much they were 
 interested in this sort of information, he promised that 
 he would give them a little work on architecture, which 
 a friend of his was writing for young people. 
 
 Mary said she hoped that it would be very entertain- 
 ing ; " And now, sir, that you are not busy," said she, 
 " could you be so good as to show us on the globe the 
 great Loo-choo island V 
 
 " He could not show it to her," he said, " because, as 
 it had been but lately discovered, it had not been drawn 
 on the globe ; but he would mark the place where it 
 ought to be."
 
 PRANK. 265 
 
 11 Here," said Frank, going to the globe, " here is Chi- 
 na, and here is the coast of Corea," said he. 
 
 " Then here must be the great Loo-choo islands," said 
 the engineer, marking the spot. 
 
 " But how can you tell so quickly, and know so exact- 
 ly, where the island must be 1" said Frank ; " I cannot 
 even guess, because the map in this book is of such a 
 different size from the globe." 
 
 " But you were told the latitude and longitude in which 
 Loo-choo is situated : look for those." 
 
 Frank had been shown how to look for the latitude 
 and longitude of any place ; but he was now confused 
 about it ; and he always was so, because he could never 
 recollect which was latitude and which was longitude. 
 
 " The longitude," said he, " I always think must be 
 looked for on these lines, which go from the top at the 
 north pole to the bottom of the south pole, the long way 
 of the globe." 
 
 " As longitude sounds like long, the long way, that is 
 very natural," said Mary. 
 
 His mother looked a little ashamed, and said that she 
 thought that she must have taught him very ill, since he 
 had been so much confused in his ideas about it : but 
 Frank said that it was not his mother who had first 
 shown him the difference between latitude and longi- 
 tude, but some lady who happened to be at their house, 
 and who, it seems, did not know it herself. And Frank 
 said that when once it had been put wrong into his 
 head, he could never get it right again ; he was in this 
 like the triangle man. 
 
 Mary ventured to ask why, if the earth is quite round, 
 and the globe quite a globe, should Frank talk of the 
 long way or the short way round it. " I thought that a 
 globe measured the same every way should it not 1 ?" 
 
 Frank informed her, and was very glad to be able 
 to do so, that the earth, though it is called a globe, is 
 not quite round ; that it is more in the shape of an or- 
 ange, or a turnip. 
 
 A nod from his friend confirmed his assertion ; and 
 Frank, now feeling encouraged to show his learning, 
 went on to prove that he understood the causes of day 
 and night ; and, farther, he dashed into explanations of 
 an eclipse of the sun, and of summer and winter ; but 
 there he found that he stuck fast he could neither get 
 backward nor forward, but, quite confused amid the 
 M 23
 
 266 FRANK. 
 
 paths of the sun, moon, and earth, he was compelled to 
 acknowledge that he was not yet master of their mo- 
 tions. Ashamed of himself, he willingly listened to 
 Mary's observation that it was getting very late ; and, 
 after wishing the engineer a good-nigh* and a good-by, 
 for he knew that he was to go early in the morning, 
 Frank said, 
 
 " I hope that, by the time you come again, sir, I shall 
 be quite clear about summer and winter. How long do 
 you think it will be before you come again !" 
 
 The engineer said he did not know; perhaps in a 
 week, perhaps in a month. 
 
 '> A month !" exclaimed Frank, " I shall have time and 
 time enough to learn it, mamma, shall not I V 
 
 " And to forget it, perhaps, Frank," said his mother.
 
 . ' ' 
 
 FRANK. 
 
 IT is surprising how easy it is to make good resolu- 
 tions, and how difficult to keep them : Frank at least 
 found it so. He had resolved, in the first place, that the 
 very day after the engineer went away, he would make 
 himself quite clear about the causes of summer and 
 winter ; and with this intention he went in search of a 
 book in which he had been told that he would find them 
 well explained ; but it chanced that, while he was look- 
 ing for this in his mother's bookcase nearest the win- 
 dow, he heard the cry of hounds and the voice of the 
 huntsmen. He called to Mary to come quick ! quick ! 
 and he threw up the sash, looked out, and saw dogs 
 running, and men and horses galloping after them the 
 men in scarlet jackets, and with little velvet caps on 
 their heads. 
 
 "There they are ; do you see them, Mary 1 ? No, not 
 now, you can't, they are behind the trees. But now ! 
 now you can see the scarlet jackets ; here they come 
 full gallop ! Beautiful horses ! how they go ! which will 
 be first ?" cried Frank. 
 
 " How very pretty they look, going over that rising 
 ground, and winding through the wood," said Mary. 
 " But now they are all out of sight." 
 
 " Stay, stay, don't go away, they are coming again, 
 Mary: one has leaped the great ditch. Oh, come! 
 come and look at them leaping. One ! two ! three ! five ! 
 One's down no, up again. On they come : all spread- 
 ing over the field dogs and horses : and they must cross 
 this lawn, quite close to us, Mary." 
 
 " What a noise !" said Mary ; " and how eager they 
 all are men, horses, dogs !" 
 
 " How I should like to be among them, if I were a 
 man!" said Frank. "Mary, look here to this side, 
 passing under the great sycamore, do you see a white 
 hound snuffing about? Next after him, that man on 
 the bay horse is Squire Rogers, I think. He is fore- 
 most : how well he rides." 
 
 "But what do I see!" said Mary. "A very little 
 M2
 
 268 FRANK. 
 
 man at a distance, or a boy. Oh ! is not that Master 
 Tom ?" 
 
 " Tom ! Tom ! where ?" cried Frank. 
 
 " You cannot see him now : the hunters are between 
 him and us." 
 
 " Master Tom ? Oh no, my dear, impossible !" said 
 Frank ; " such little boys never go out hunting." 
 
 Well, Mary would not be positive, she said, but she 
 was almost sure she had seen him. Unluckily, the 
 hounds, horses, and huntsmen now took a course in a 
 contrary direction to what Frank had predicted; they 
 did not cross that lawn close to the window, and wheth- 
 er it was Master Tom or not whom Mary had seen, 
 could not now be determined. 
 
 The doubt so disturbed Frank's head that he could 
 not settle to reading this morning ; hounds, red jackets, 
 and jockey caps were running through his head, and 
 drove from his recollection all his great curiosity about 
 the causes of summer and winter, taking angles, sex- 
 tants, observations, Euclid's Elements, and the engi- 
 neer. 
 
 Some morning visitors came this day ; and, altogeth- 
 er, Frank found that it was not worth while to set about 
 any thing, either while they stayed or after they went 
 away. While they stayed it would not have been civil, 
 he thought, and after they went away it was too late. 
 Besides, Frank had been curious to hear what was said 
 by some of the visiters about the hunting of this day, 
 and to determine the point whether Master Tom had or 
 had not been at the hunt. It was at last decided that 
 he had been at it. Nor was this the first time. Under 
 the protection of Squire Rogers, and of a greater per- 
 sonage still, Squire Rogers's huntsman, Master Tom 
 had frequently joined the hunt, and was much admired 
 by Squire Rogers and his hunting companions, for his 
 being able to sit a hunter so well, and for keeping up 
 with the hounds. It was extraordinary to see a boy, a 
 child of his age, out hunting with men. One of the lady 
 visiters agreed with Squire Rogers in admiring Master 
 Tom. Another said that it was a pity and a shame to 
 see a boy of his age, and who might be trained to some- 
 thing better, suffered to run wild as he did, and to keep 
 such low, vulgar company. Squire Rogers, though him- 
 self a gentleman, was, as it has been observed, fond of 
 his inferiors in rank and education; and his hunting
 
 PRANK. 269 
 
 associates were not such as any sensible parents could 
 wish for the companions of their sons. Frank's mother 
 joined with those who disapproved of Master Tom's 
 hunting, but she said and thought little about the mat- 
 ter: she did not know how much Frank had been struck 
 with the sight of this day's chase. In the course of the 
 day, however, the red jackets and the galloping horses 
 faded from his imagination. Mary reminded him of 
 summer and winter, and he in a careless manner looked 
 over some explanation in a geographical dictionary, 
 which, if he did not quite understand, would do for the 
 present; he could look it over again more carefully 
 some days before the engineer should return, he said, 
 and then it would be fresh in his head. " If I were to 
 learn it perfectly now," added he, " you know I should, 
 as mamma observed, have time to forget it before our 
 friend comes here again." 
 
 Content with being able to quote his mother's words, 
 and to turn them to his present purpose of defending his 
 fit of idleness, Frank did little good this day. Even his 
 constant defender, Mary, could not deny this. The 
 next morning he determined to make up for lost yes- 
 terday. He recollected several things which he had 
 not thought of during the days the engineer had been 
 with them, and to these his attention turned. 
 
 "The Stream of Time," said he, "we have never looked 
 at since the day after the day when we resolved that 
 we would look at it regularly every day at mamma's 
 dressing time." 
 
 "Yes, she told us that we should forget it," said 
 Mary. 
 
 " And our lists, my dear Mary," cried Frank : " the 
 first thing we do must be to settle our list of l must 
 wants? It is terribly crowded and blotted," said he, 
 unfolding and showing it. i <-* 
 
 " Especially that great blot over trigonometry," said 
 Mary. " I believe that was my fault, for I had not any 
 blotting-paper, and I rolled up the list before it was dry ; 
 and you wrote in a great hurry, if you recollect, the first 
 day the engineer came, when you were so very fond 
 of him." 
 
 -" I am very fond of him still," said Frank, " but one 
 cannot always think of the same thing. Certainly, I 
 
 Eut trigonometry, my dear, too high up that day in this 
 st of ' man's must wants,' and I wrote it much too large. 
 23*
 
 
 270 FRANK. 
 
 It must come out, and come down here, where there is 
 plenty of room for it below." 
 
 " How many changes we have made in our lists since 
 we began them !" said Mary. 
 
 In the course of one month, indeed, such numbers of 
 words had been inserted and removed from may wants 
 to must wants, that it was scarcely possible to read the 
 manuscript. It was now found necessary to rewrite 
 the whole. They wisely determined that all the doubtful 
 things should be written with pencil, so that they might 
 be rubbed out and altered as often as might be wished. 
 Frank disliked the trouble of transcribing, but he pa- 
 tiently went through it, and the copy was, as his mother 
 judged, much better than the first list. 
 
 Mary undertook to finish the last pencilled column of 
 may wants for him this morning, when he went out to 
 ride with his father. 
 
 This was very obliging of Mary, because she wished, 
 as Frank knew, to have employed this morning in knit- 
 ting for Colonel Birch a pair of scarlet worsted cuffs 
 or bracelets ; by some called wristlets, by others comfort- 
 ables, by others muffatees, by others kitty cuffs. 
 
 Now Mary was a quick knitter for her age, but a slow 
 writer, and it requires no small share of resolution, as 
 well as good-nature, to quit what we hope we can do 
 pretty well for what we fear we do but ill. Poor Mary 
 was the whole morning copying this immense folio page, 
 excepting one quarter of an hour which she took to rest 
 her cramped fingers, and which she spent in continuing 
 the basket-work fence round Robinson Crusoe's island. 
 She had finished the last word, " order," with her best 
 r, and moreover with the kind of r which Frank prefer- 
 red to her own favourite r, when she heard the horses 
 returning. She ran down into the hall to meet Frank 
 with the long sheet in her hand. 
 
 " Here it is, Frank ! I have finished it quite ! Take 
 care ! order is not quite dry yet," cried she. 
 
 But he was not in the delightful hurry to see it that 
 she expected. 
 
 " Thank you, my dear ! Thank you !" he said. 
 
 But it was plain that he was not thinking of what 
 he was saying ; and who can value such thanks 1 He 
 scarcely seemed to know what paper she held in her 
 hand ; and who could bear this ? None but those who 
 have as sweet a temper as Mary had.
 
 FRANK. 271 
 
 Mary was disappointed and mortified, but she bore it 
 well, and putting aside the paper which contained her 
 morning's work, she listened kindly to Frank, who be- 
 gan to tell her his adventures. She now observed that 
 he appeared much agitated. 
 
 " Look, Mary, my dear," cried he, as he took off his 
 hat, and skimmed it from him upon the table in the hall. 
 " Look what a hat is there ! and it is well my head was 
 not battered like my hat !" 
 
 " What has happened V said Mary, who now looked 
 in his face, and saw that he was excessively hot. " Do 
 tell me quickly." 
 
 " My dear, I have been out hunting that's all." 
 
 " Hunting ! Frank ! no surely ! not real hunting." 
 
 " Yes, real hunting ; and I have taken three leaps, 
 wonderful leaps ; and I have had a fall that might have 
 killed me : but do not look so frightened, you see I am 
 not dead. I have only hurt my arm." 
 
 " Where 1 which arm V said Mary. 
 
 " My left arm," said he, "just here." 
 
 Mary looked, and saw blood upon the coat. She 
 started, and said she would run and tell his mother, 
 that something might be done to his arm directly ; but 
 Frank caught her hand and held her fast, saying that 
 she must not frighten his mother ; that his father had 
 gone to tell her all that had happened. 
 
 " Does it hurt you to talk ?" said Mary. 
 
 " Not in the least," said Frank. " Only do not look 
 so frightened, and then I will tell you every thing. We 
 were just riding home quietly, and I was talking to papa 
 very happily, about making bows and arrows, when, at 
 the turn of the cross-road, hounds and horn were heard, 
 and huntsmen coining full gallop. My father called to 
 me to pull in Felix, and I did so ; and though I knew 
 he had a great mind to follow the hunt, he stood as quiet 
 as a lamb, till somebody came up slashing a whip. Yes, 
 Master Tom. Whether he touched my horse or not I 
 cannot tell, but off went Felix. I heard my father cal- 
 ling to me, but I could not hold Felix in : I am not sure 
 that I tried with all my strength, for I had a great mind 
 to see the hunt, I own. So on I went, galloping fast, 
 fast, fast ! you can have no idea how fast, Mary : you 
 would have shut your eyes, I know, and you would never 
 have seen the great leap over the ditch in Yougham 
 manor ! Such a leap ! and I sat it ; and tolerably sur*
 
 272 FRANK. 
 
 prised I was when I found myself safe on Felix's back 
 on the other side. Bravo ! bravo ! I heard as one passed 
 me, and another passed me, and I did not know who 
 they were. Oh ! how this arm hurts me ! Well, as I 
 was saying, on I went galloping along with the men, 
 tally ho ! tally ho ! after the hounds in full cry ; over 
 another ditch clean went I (Felix for ever!) and got 
 before Tom ; till at last, oh, Mary ! forcing through a 
 gap in the hedge, I fancy my coat caught on a bush, or 
 how it happened I do not well know, but plump ! squash 
 I found myself at the bottom of a ditch. All rushes, 
 luckily, at the bottom, except, unluckily, one stump of 
 a bush, which ran into this arm ; but what is the most 
 extraordinary part of the story " 
 
 What this was can never be known ; for here Frank 
 was interrupted by the entrance of his father and moth- 
 er, and the good housekeeper, with lint and linen band- 
 ages. When Frank's coat was taken off, and his arm 
 examined, a cut, or, as Mary chose to have it called, a 
 wound, appeared in the fleshy part of the arm. It had 
 bled a great deal, and Mary seemed to feel much for this 
 bleeding, though, as Frank laughing assured her, it did 
 not hurt him in the least. He could not say as much 
 when they came to dressing his wound ; touching the 
 raw part to draw it together was painful ; but Frank 
 held his arm out steadily, never twitching or wincing; 
 Mary was glad when good old Mrs. Catharine fastened 
 off her thread, after sewing the bandage ; but when she 
 said that the arm would be as well as ever in two or 
 three days, Mary thought this was treating the affair too 
 slightly. But Mrs. Catharine was not, as she said, 
 " one of those who pity boys for every slight hurt ; she 
 knew that a brave boy must not mind such things." 
 
 " Mind it ! No, that I do not, as you see, I hope," said 
 Frank, swinging his coat over his shoulders, and getting 
 his arm into it without anybody's help. 
 
 " But stay, Catharine, my dear Catharine, I must 
 show you my leg ; I believe I have a leg full of thorns. 
 These trousers are not fit for hunting in, like men's 
 boots. The thorns went through them into my leg like 
 pins into a pincushion." 
 
 Mrs. Catharine, though much inclined to take the part 
 of the trousers, refrained, and smiled at the simile of 
 the pins and the pincushion. The bare leg was pro- 
 duced: many little black specks appeared, and Mrs.
 
 FRANK. 273 
 
 Catharine went to work on these with her needle, first 
 picking at one, then at another. Six thorns were ex- 
 tracted ! and of these two were such little black specks 
 that they could scarcely be seen on the point of the 
 needle, till laid upon his mother's white handkerchief. 
 Yet poking and probing for these, which had gone far 
 into the calf, gave Frank more pain, at least more teas- 
 ing pain, than the dressing of the great wound, as Mary 
 called it. It was the more difficult to bear, too, because 
 there was not only more pain, but less glory, and less 
 pity. Mary did not pity him half as much while he was 
 undergoing the extraction of the thorns, as she had 
 done at the sight of the flowing of the blood, which did 
 not hurt him in the least. But Frank's mother knew, 
 by the tight squeezing together of his lips, and by the 
 pale streak under his eyes, how difficult he found it to 
 stand this seemingly trifling trial. He went through it, 
 however, as a man should : and the experienced Mrs. 
 Catharine gave him honour due, declaring, as she held 
 the sixth thorn upon the point of the needle, that she 
 had never seen a little man stand steadier, and would 
 never desire to dress the wounds of a better soldier ; 
 and that she did not doubt but that he who could stand 
 so well the probing for so many thorns, would be able 
 to bear as well, when necessary, the probing for a bullet. 
 
 " If necsesary," said his mother, laying a marked em- 
 phasis upon the if. 
 
 " We do not want to make a soldier of Frank," said 
 his father, " but to make him a brave man, and then he 
 will be whatever his duty requires." 
 
 " I hope so," said Frank. " And, papa, will you be- 
 speak a pair of boots for me ; for really these thin trou- 
 sers are not fit for a man to ride in, that is, to hunt in." 
 
 His father made no reply, and Frank was not certain 
 that his petition was heard. 
 
 After dinner, when he had refreshed and rested him- 
 self, and when he had recounted, for the second time, 
 all his exploits of the morning, he recollected the page 
 which Mary had copied for him, and asking to look at 
 it, she had then the reward of her patience in his kind- 
 est thanks. Lying on the carpet, he began to read the 
 list of man's virtues to her ; but he had not proceeded 
 far in them before the fair columns were defaced by 
 changes which he made, perhaps a little hastily. For 
 instance, as soon as he came to courage^ he looked down 
 
 M3
 
 274 PRANK. 
 
 the page in search of riding, which used to come some' 
 time after Latin grammar, but he now crammed it in im- 
 mediately after courage ; and when he came to good- 
 sense and good-nature they changed places ; good-na- 
 ture was raised much higher, up in the list than it had 
 been formerly. Frank gave no reasons for this change ; 
 but he talked a good deal about Squire Rogers. Squire 
 Rogers had helped to lift him out of the ditch ; and had 
 declared to Frank's father, even with an oath, that he 
 would give more than he could count to have such a 
 brave little fellow for a son. 
 
 Frank did not repeat this speech to Mary, or to his 
 mother ; but his father knew that he had heard it, and 
 that it was, perhaps unconsciously to Frank, the cause of 
 his sudden change of opinion of this gentleman. Frank 
 told Mary that though poor Squire Rogers was very ig- 
 norant of some things, yet in others that he was no fool, 
 and that he was certainly remarkably good-natured. 
 
 Frank was very unwilling to go to bed that night, 
 though he was exceedingly tired; but he continued, 
 with his elbows on the table, talking, talking, talking, 
 about men, horses, and dogs, till even Mary's eyes clo- 
 sed, notwithstanding her most complaisant endeavours 
 to keep them open. 
 
 " Why do not you go to bed, Frank, you are tired ?" 
 said his mother. 
 
 " Tired ! not in the least, ma'am. Why should you 
 think that I am tired ?" 
 
 " Because you have taken more exercise than usual 
 to-day. There is no disgrace in being tired, my dear." 
 
 " But I really am not tired, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " And he is proud of that," said his father, smiling : 
 "very natural for a boy who wishes to be thought 
 manly." 
 
 "Oh papa! to be thought manly!" repeated Frank, 
 " say, to be manly." 
 
 " Well, Frank, I will say to be manly." 
 
 " Papa, would you be so very good as to bespeak for 
 me a pair of boots ?" 
 
 " I would," said his father, laughing, " if you could 
 prove that they were necessary to your being manly." 
 
 " But seriously, father," said Frank, " they will be ne- 
 cessary to prevent the thorns from running into my legs 
 again the next time I go out hunting." 
 
 " The next time you go out hunting !" said his moth- 
 er, in a tone of surprise.
 
 FRANK. 276 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; for Squire Rogers, Mr. Rogers I mean, 
 told me there would be a hunt on Tuesday, and asked 
 me to go with him ; and 1 said I would, if you would 
 give me leave, papa, and I hope you will." 
 
 Frank's mother sighed. 
 
 " Mamma, do not sigh," said Frank. " I shall not break 
 my neck, though I know you are afraid that I shall." 
 
 " Mamma, do not sigh," said Frank's father. " I will 
 answer for it that Frank will not grow fond of vulgar 
 flattery, or of vulgar company, though I know that you 
 are afraid that he will." 
 
 Frank, at the half-open door, stood to hear his moth- 
 er's answer, but she looked down at her work, and was 
 silent. 
 
 " My love," continued his father, " we must not ex- 
 pect too much from him. We must not expect but 
 1 will finish my sentence, and answer you, Frank, about 
 the boots to-morrow morning at breakfast. Go to bed 
 now ; after a night's sleep you will be more in a condi- 
 tion to hear reason." 
 
 " To hear what, father?" 
 
 " Reason, son." 
 
 " Is that all 1 I thought it was something about 
 riding, papa," said Frank, still lingering, and swinging 
 the door in his hand. 
 
 " Go to bed now, Frank, as you are desired," said his 
 father. " Obedience is a manly virtue it is at least a 
 virtue necessary to a man." 
 
 Frank obeyed, and in his turn sighed. 
 
 FRANK was at the breakfast-table before any one else 
 the next morning. 
 
 Many subjects were spoken of, and many affairs were 
 to be settled, before the business of the boots and of 
 the hunt. All the affairs of England and of Europe ap- 
 peared to be discussed in the newspapers of the day. 
 At last his father put down the paper, and his eye turned 
 upon Frank. 
 
 " Now, my boy " 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, " may I say one thing before I 
 hear the end of your sentence 1 When I wakened this 
 morning, I began to think about what we were talking 
 of last night, and I believe I shall not want man's boots,
 
 S76 FRANK. 
 
 because, though Mr. Rogers asked me to go with him, 
 it is better, I think, that I should not go out hunting." 
 His mother looked very much pleased. 
 
 " Your father was quite right, I see, Frank," said she, 
 " when he prophesied that you would have more sense 
 after a night's sleep." 
 
 " More sense than what, mamma 1" 
 
 " More sense than you had last night, my dear Frank, 
 when you wished to go out hunting again with Mr. 
 Rogers and his rabble rout." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I am afraid you will not be 
 pleased with me, but I must tell you the truth. I have 
 not more sense this morning than I had last night, if it 
 is foolish to wish to go out hunting again, for I own I 
 do wish it." 
 
 " You are right to tell the truth at all events, Frank ; 
 and for that I must be pleased with you. And we have 
 reason," said his mother, " to be still more pleased with 
 you for conquering a foolish wish by your own reflec- 
 tions and good sense more pleased even than if you 
 had not the wish." 
 
 " But, mamma, it was not my good sense that con- 
 quered." 
 
 " What then ?" said his mother. 
 
 Frank hesitated. 
 
 " What 1" said his father. " Perhaps you foresaw 
 that I should refuse to let you go, and you did not like 
 to have the mortification of being refused, and therefore 
 you thought it was better to give it up of your own 
 accord. Was that the case, Frank? Speak out, my 
 boy, speak out; a brave man, a brave boy, is never 
 afraid to speak his mind, whether he thinks it will please 
 or displease. If he is wrong, he knows he can be set 
 right ; if he is foolish, he knows he can learn to be 
 wiser ; but he is never afraid to tell his mind." 
 
 " Papa, I am not afraid to tell my mind. I did not 
 think that you, papa, would refuse to let me go ; but I 
 thought that mamma would not like it, and therefore I 
 resolved to give it up." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear Frank," said his mother. " I 
 am persuaded that you would give up this and greater 
 pleasure for me, if I were to ask you to do so ; but I do 
 not wish," continued she, turning to his father, " to 
 work upon his feelings ; I would rather that his under- 
 standing were convinced."
 
 FRANK. . 277 
 
 " So would I, my dear," answered his father : " bnt I 
 am not clear that on this point we can convince his 
 understanding. It is scarcely possible that a boy of his 
 age, who has had no experience, can comprehend all 
 the dangers of early keeping vulgar, ignorant com- 
 pany." 
 
 " But, papa, I would not keep company with them, 
 but only go out hunting with them, you know ; when I 
 am on horseback, cantering, galloping, leaping, what 
 harm can that do me 1 it can only teach me to ride 
 better and better, and make me more brave and manly." 
 
 " And more and more fond of vulgar applause," said 
 his mother : " of the applause of all those who call out, 
 ' Bravo, Master Frank ! bravo !' as you leap over the 
 ditches. Recollect your own feelings: were not you 
 urged on by this praise yesterday ? And did not you 
 feel that competition with Master Tom, and emulation, 
 excited you to exertion "!" 
 
 " Certainly, mamma ; and so I felt when papa praised 
 me for riding well or being brave. If it is a good thing 
 to ride well and to be brave, those people, whether they 
 are vulgar or not, are right to praise me for it, are not 
 they ? And I am not wrong to like their praise about 
 riding, because they can judge about that as well as 
 papa." 
 
 " True," said his father ; " but if you like their praise 
 about your riding, you would probably become desirous 
 of it on other subjects, and you would soon be satisfied 
 with their admiration, without exerting yourself to ob- 
 tain the esteem of those who are better judges of ex- 
 cellence of different kinds. Besides, the being praised 
 by ignorant people, even for what you deserve, and for 
 that of which they can judge, would early join in your 
 mind the idea of pleasure with that of vulgar applause, 
 and even the association of your first pleasure in riding 
 would be hurtful to you." 
 
 " The first pleasure of the first days of riding I shall 
 always remember," said Frank : " they were with my 
 father. Indeed, mamma, I really like the rides with my 
 father much the best ; I like so much to talk to him, and 
 to hear what he says. But, I do not know how it was, 
 I was carried away by the pleasure of the hunt ; and I 
 own I should like to hunt again. I do not quite under- 
 stand all your reasons against it ; for I feel sure that I 
 should not learn to like vulgar company. Will you let 
 24
 
 278 PRANK. 
 
 me try once or twice, mamma t only once, on Tuesday, 
 papa ?" 
 
 "No, Frank," said his father, "you must now be 
 governed by my understanding and my experience." 
 
 Frank looked mortified and disappointed ; but after a 
 minute's thought he said, " Very well, papa ; I believe 
 you and mamma know best what is good for me ; I have 
 always found it so at last, even when I did not think so 
 at first." 
 
 " That is true," said Mary ; " as we found about the 
 separation punishment, when we quarrelled." 
 
 " Come, then, Mary," said Frank ; " we will think of 
 something else, and put boots and hunting out of my 
 head. I will go out and look at the work you did yester- 
 day at the island." 
 
 " Thank you," said Mary, " the very thing I wished. 
 I have almost finished Robinson Crusoe's fence.' 
 
 " And I will quite finish it with you to-day: I can 
 work with my right arm ; luckily, it was only my left 
 that was hurt. And when I am tired of working, I 
 have to think of Mrs. Wheeler's arbour." 
 
 It is a happy thing to have something to do, and some- 
 thing to think of, when one has met with a little disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 In about two hours Mary and Frank returned, both 
 looking very hot and very happy, Frank having quite 
 worked off his disappointment. 
 
 " Papa, I am glad that you are not gone out," said he 
 to his father, who was writing a letter ; " I ran home as 
 hard as I could to tell you that I saw Squire Rogers, on 
 his horse Stamper, coming down the lane, and perhaps 
 he may call here as he goes by ; and if he does, will 
 you be so good as to tell him that I cannot go with him 
 on Tuesday to the hunt]" 
 
 " Why cannot you tell him so yourself, Frank ?" said 
 his father. 
 
 " I could, to be sure," said Frank ; " but I would 
 rather that you should speak for me, because because 
 because I do not know exactly why, but I should 
 feel ashamed." 
 
 " Ashamed of what, Frank ? Ashamed of doing what 
 your father desires V 
 
 " No, no, papa, certainly not ; there is really nothing 
 to be ashamed of in that : but it seems as if I were not 
 a man,"
 
 PRANK. 279 
 
 " And are you a man V said his father. 
 
 " No, papa," said Frank, laughing, " I know that I 
 am a little boy ; yet still, I do not know why, I feel 
 ashamed." 
 
 " Never be ashamed without reason ; conquer that 
 foolish feeling," said his father. 
 
 " And besides," said Frank, moving from leg to leg, 
 " too, besides " 
 
 " Besides will do, without too" said his father. 
 
 " Besides, papa, when one is asked to do any thing, and 
 asked in a good-natured manner, it is difficult to refuse 
 sometimes." 
 
 " It is difficult sometimes ; but it is often necessary, 
 my dear son, and you must learn to do it." 
 
 " Oh, father, here is Squire Rogers coming up the 
 avenue : I dare say that he has come on purpose to see 
 how I do : how very good-natured ! And if he asks me 
 again to go to the hunt, how shall I have the courage to 
 say no ! I wish you would say it for me this time, papa." 
 
 " No, Frank," said his father : " you see that I can 
 say ' no' to you, and yet I do not like to refuse any thing 
 you ask ; but it is necessary for a man to learn to say 
 ' no,' and the sooner you begin the better, even about 
 such a trifle as this : you cannot have a better oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 " Who is that with him, Mary 1 ?" said Frank. " Can 
 you see between the trees V 
 
 " Master Tom : I know him by the slashing of his 
 whip." 
 
 " Worse and worse," said Frank to Mary. " I am 
 very sorry he is come, that will make it more difficult 
 to me." 
 
 " No, surely," said Mary, " it will not be difficult to 
 refuse him : he is not so very good-natured !" 
 
 " I do not say he is," said Frank, " but still " 
 
 " Nor is he very agreeable," said Mary ; " you do not 
 like to ride with him as well as with papa. I remember 
 you told me how much happier you were riding with 
 papa, and talking to him, than Tom could be with his 
 groom. Do not you recollect saying that to me T" 
 
 " Yes, I recollect it ; and it is very true," said Frank. 
 w I do not like him much." 
 
 " And I do not think he likes you much, Frank," said 
 Mary. 
 " I do not think that he does, Mary ; for when I was
 
 280 FRANK. 
 
 lying in the ditch I saw him leap his horse over, with- 
 out his ever stopping to see whether I was dead or alive. 
 But still" 
 - "But still what!" said Mary. " I do not understand." 
 
 " You will understand some time or other, when you 
 are older," said Frank. " Even when one does not like 
 a person, and even if one does not wish to do what one 
 is asked to do, if one is asked over and over, it is difficult 
 to refuse. My dear! they are just at the door." 
 
 " He saw you, Frank : he beckoned to you, Frank." 
 
 " Did he beckon to me ? Then it is for me he is com- 
 ing. I had better go out and speak to him at once," 
 said Frank, looking as if he summoned up all his 
 courage. 
 
 Squire Rogers exclaimed, with delight, the moment 
 Frank appeared at the hall door 
 
 " My fine fellow ! my brave little man ! my bold little 
 huntsman, how are you to-day ? Oh, I see, bravely ! 
 bravely ! glad of it, faith ! How is the arm 1 and how 
 are the legs 1 Right ! right ! I knew you'd be very 
 well, and that you'd think nothing of such a fall as that, 
 man ! And the horse ! how is he, Blacky, or Felix, or 
 what do you call him, a fine creature, too ! his knees 
 not hurt ? And your father, too, how is he ? Ay, he 
 knows how to bring up a boy ; he has taught you to sit 
 a horse wonderfully, in the time ; and when we have 
 had you with us out after the hounds for a season, you'll 
 be as good a hunter as my friend Tom here. Shake 
 hands, my brave man, and remember Tuesday morning 
 at ten o'clock ! I'll call for you." 
 
 The squire bent low to shake hands with Frank, who, 
 in the midst of these praises of himself, his horse, and 
 his father, had not yet been able to speak. Afraid that 
 the squire should gallop off before he had pronounced 
 the necessary " no," Frank held fast the hand which 
 shook his. 
 
 " Not a minute to spare can't 'light. My compli- 
 ments, and so forth, to your father. Can't 'light, don't 
 ask me," said the squire, drawing away his hand. 
 
 " I do not want you to alight, sir," said Frank, " but I 
 have something I want to say very much.." 
 
 " That's another affair ; what is it, my dear little fel- 
 low," said the squire, bending down again to him : " ask 
 any thing from me that I can lend or give but my horse, 
 my dog, or my gun, and you shall have it, for you're a
 
 FRANK. 281 
 
 fine, spirited little man ; and, by all that's good ! I love 
 you as if you were my own ; so speak freely." 
 
 " You are very good, exceedingly kind ; I am very 
 much obliged." 
 
 " Never mind your thanks, I'm a man will do any thing 
 for those I love. What is it ? to lend you a horse, hey ? 
 You shall have Tantivy, and you'll be the best mounted 
 man or boy next to the squire himself, arid so you de- 
 serve to be! and," added he, "a word in your ear 
 Tom's a little jealous of you ; but never mind, you shall 
 have Tantivy." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, sir, you are very, very good," said 
 Frank, " thank you, but " 
 
 " Not a word of thanks, my dear boy !" said the squire, 
 gathering up his bridle, " not a word more." 
 
 " One word more I must say," cried Frank, catching 
 hold of the bridle. 
 
 " Have a care, or the horse will kill you," cried the 
 squire, drawing his horse back with a look of terror : 
 " Stamper will have his forepaw in your stomach, and 
 knock you down, dead as King Harry the Eighth. Ods 
 my life! y#u frightened me, man, and I'm not easily 
 frightened a-horseback : but, Frank, you're like a boy I 
 lost, that was worth his weight in gold," said the squire, 
 taking off his hat, and wiping his forehead. 
 
 " The horses is hot," said Tom. " Jack says Stamper 
 will take cold standing." 
 
 " No matter, I must have this little fellow's one word. 
 But stand out of the horse's way, Frank, do, my darling. 
 Get up on the steps, and I'll come to you." 
 
 Frank retreated to the steps, and as he stood on one 
 of them, the squire, riding close up, again bent down, 
 and, leaning his ear to Frank, 
 
 " What's the matter," said he, " for your little heart 
 is full." 
 
 Frank, putting his arm round the squire's neck, whis- 
 pered, " Good-natured man, I cannot go with you." 
 
 " Not go with me ! What do you mean not go with 
 me on Tuesday ]" 
 
 " No, I must say ' no :' that is the one word I had to 
 say." 
 
 " I thought how it would end," said Tom, with a sneer ; 
 " I could have sworn he would not go. 1 wonder, squire, 
 you are so surprised." 
 
 " And why do not you go," said the squire, looking 
 24*
 
 282 
 
 PRANK. 
 
 hard in Frank's face; art afraid! not the lad I took 
 you for." 
 
 " I am the lad you took me for," said Frank ; " 1 am 
 not afraid." 
 
 Tom sneered again. 
 
 " I am not afraid," said Frank, raising his voice as he 
 looked at Top. 
 
 " Never mind him, mind me," said the squire. " What 
 is the reason you cannot come to the hunt you said 
 yesterday that you would ?" 
 
 " I said I would if my father approved of it," said 
 Frank ; " but he does not ; that is the reason that I can- 
 not go." 
 
 " Then he is not the man I took him for," said the 
 squire. " Yet he seemed glad enough to see you show 
 spirit the other day. I see how it is ; mamma is at the 
 bottom of the business mammas are always cowards 
 and spoil-sports." 
 
 " My mother is not a coward," said Frank, " and I do 
 not know what you mean by a spoil-sport." 
 
 Tom laughed in an insulting manner ; but the squire 
 said that Frank was right enough to standup for his 
 own mother. " I've a great respect for your mamma, 
 my dear," said he, holding out his hand to him. 
 
 Frank now gave him his hand again very readily. 
 
 " I am confident she's a woman of sense ; not like my 
 wife, who is as pale as a ghost if Stamper does but paw. 
 Fear is natural to all females. But since you have got 
 your father on your side, he will bring your mamma 
 over in time, I hope, before Tuesday." 
 
 Frank answered that his father and mother were both 
 on the same side. 
 
 " That's bad," said the squire, " a bad hearing for 
 you ; but cannot you run in and tell her that she may 
 safely trust you with me * Say I'll take as good care of 
 you as of the apple of my eye." 
 
 " What a vulgar expression !" thought Frank. 
 
 " How he stands," cried Tom ; " cannot you go in 
 and coax her 1 I can make my mother do any thing by 
 a little coaxing, and cannot you V 
 
 " No," said Frank. This time " no" was very clearly 
 pronounced. 
 
 " But cannot you try !" 
 
 " No," said Frank. 
 
 u No! then I must try for you," said the squire:
 
 FRANK. 283 
 
 ** sooner than that you should lose your day's hunt, I de- 
 clare I'll 'light, and step in and reason it out with her my- 
 self ; though reasoning with the women is not my prac- 
 tice ; because there's few of them understands reason 
 when they hear it. But there's no rule without an ex- 
 ception ; Jack, hold Stamper while I go in," said he, 
 preparing to alight. 
 
 Frank eagerly begged that the squire would not give 
 himself the trouble ; for " I cannot go. Indeed I cannot 
 go," repeated he. 
 
 " Do you wish to come to the hunt, or do you not ?" 
 said the squire, angrily. " I hate shilly-shallying ; do 
 you wish to come with me or not ? Yes or no." 
 
 " No, thank you, sir," said Frank, stoutly. 
 
 Tom touched the squire's shoulder with the handle of 
 his whip, pointing upwards to an open window, from 
 which Mary was leaning. 
 
 " Right," said the squire, winking in his vulgar man- 
 ner, " I see what you mean ; little pitchers have long 
 ears. Come farther from the window, my man, come 
 here under the trees. Now, without playing the good 
 boy any longer, you may tell us all the truth." 
 
 " I have told the truth I always tell the truth," said 
 Frank, in an indignant tone : " I have nothing more to 
 say." 
 
 " Well, well, do not be angry, nay little man," said 
 the squire. " You need not grow as red as a turkey- 
 cock. Good-morning to you ; I am sorry they will make 
 a Miss Molly of such a fine little fellow. I would have 
 made a man of you like Tom here." 
 
 Frank's countenance expressed, perhaps, too plainly, 
 that he felt no ambition to be like Tom. 
 
 " Like me ! he despises me. Don't you see, squire, 
 he is too fine a gentleman for that ? too fine too keep 
 company with me, or you either, Squire Rogers," said 
 Tom, with a marked emphasis on you. 
 
 " What's that * Say you so \ Too fine a gentleman 
 to keep company with me 1 Sits the wind in that quar- 
 ter V cried the squire. His countenance suddenly al- 
 tering, he looked at Frank with a furious eye, the blood 
 at the same time mounting in. his face, which grew 
 crimson in an instant. "My little fine gentleman, is 
 this the meaning of yonr much obliged to you, sir? I 
 would have you, sir, and all whom it may concern, to 
 , that the Rogers's and the Squires's are as old a
 
 284 FRANK. 
 
 family as your own, and fit company for a prince of the 
 blood, whatever you or yours may think of it, young 
 Mr. Cockahoop. If ever 1 trouble myself to pick you 
 or any thing like you out of a ditch if ever I come 
 again within these gates to look for you, my name's not 
 Squires Rogers. Look you, master white face : I'll 
 never speak to you again the longest day I live." 
 
 The oaths which he poured forth, in the fury to which 
 he had now worked himself, shocked and amazed Frank 
 to such a degree that he stood motionless and breath- 
 less. The passionate squire set spurs to his horse, and 
 galloped off; and Tom, after laughing immoderately, 
 followed. 
 
 " What is the matter?" said Mary, as soon as Frank 
 came up stairs into the room where she and his father 
 and mother were. 
 
 " Did you hear what he said at last, Mary !" said 
 Frank. 
 
 " No, I only heard his voice very loud ; but he was 
 so far off I could not hear any words distinctly." 
 
 " I'm glad of that," said Frank, " for they were not 
 words fit for you to hear ; and pray don't ask me any 
 thing about it." 
 
 " Then pray," said Mary, " do not tell me any thing 
 about it. Only this one thing I must ask, whether you 
 ended with saying ' no,' as you ought to do ]" 
 
 " That I did," answered Frank. 
 
 " And did you feel it very difficult to say it, and to 
 hold firm to it V said Mary. 
 
 " The first ' no' was very difficult, when he was good- 
 natured to me," said Frank. " But the last ' noes' were 
 very easy. I'm glad I have nothing more to do with 
 him. Papa, even when the squire was most kind to 
 me, I could not help observing that he used very vulgar 
 expressions. You were quite right, mamma; but he 
 says he'll never speak to me again." 
 
 " Not speak to you again 1" said Mary. " A few 
 minutes ago I heard him say you were worth your 
 weight in gold, and that he loved you as if you were his 
 own son. I thought I saw you, Frank, with your arm 
 about his neck." 
 
 " You did," said Frank, blushing. " I could not help 
 liking him when he said so many kind things to me, for 
 I believe he was really sincere ; I don't think he flat- 
 tered me ; and I was sorry for him, poor man, when he
 
 FRANK. 285 
 
 spoke of his son that died : but, mamma, how very ex- 
 traordinary that he should go so suddenly, in a few 
 minutes, from praising me, and liking me exceedingly, 
 to disliking me, and abusing me violently. I cannot 
 tell even what put him into such a rage ; for it was not 
 merely my saying no, it was something that Tom said 
 about my being a fine gentleman." 
 
 " Ah ! that Tom does not like you," said Mary* " I 
 do believe he is envious." 
 
 " I never before saw or heard a man in such a pas- 
 sion," continued Frank. " It is very surprising that he 
 could change so quickly : but, mamma, you and papa 
 don't appear at all surprised." 
 
 " No, my dear, it is not so surprising to us," said his 
 father, " that a person who has had little education, and 
 who acts only from the fancy or the feeling of the mo- 
 ment, without being governed by reason, or by any 
 steady principles, should, as you describe, love and 
 hate, praise and abuse you in the course of a few min- 
 utes, and without any just cause. I am glad you have 
 seen and felt some of the inconveniences that might 
 arise from associating with such people." 
 
 " And I," said Frank, " am very glad I have noth- 
 ing more to do with Squire Rogers, good-natured as 
 he is." 
 
 " Now go," said his mother, " and eat that cherry-pie 
 with Mary, who would not eat any till you came in." 
 
 Frank, who wanted some refreshment after his fa- 
 tigues of body and mind, obeyed his mother with even 
 more than his usual alacrity; but when he came to the 
 last cherry, he resumed his reflections. 
 
 " Father," said he, " was Squire Rogers really born a 
 gentleman ? for I remember in his passion he said that 
 his family was as good as that of any gentleman in 
 England." 
 
 "He is of a good ancient family; he was born, but 
 not bred a gentleman : he was early suffered to keep 
 low company, and he became fond, when a boy, of their 
 vulgar jests, and he delighted in their vulgar praise. 
 As a man, he has continued to feel the mean vanity of 
 wishing to be the first person in company, and as he 
 could not be superior in the society of gentlemen of 
 cultivated minds, he shunned their conversation, in 
 vhich he felt himself always uneasy ; and he has lived 
 vith his inferiors, by whom he is admired :
 
 886 FRANK. 
 
 " ' Fond of applause, he sought the feasts 
 Of vulgar and ignoble beasts.' " 
 
 " Papa," said Mary, " I know where those lines are." 
 
 " Do you indeed, Mary ]" said Frank. " How odd it 
 is that you should know what I do not. Where are 
 those lines?" 
 
 " Guess," said Mary. 
 
 " Say more of them," said Frank, " and then I will 
 tell you, if I know where they are." 
 
 Mary repeated, 
 
 " ' A lion cub of sordid mind, 
 Avoided all the lion kind.' 
 
 " Oh, Frank, I have told it to you now ; if you do not 
 know it now you never read it ; nor did I ever read it 
 till yesterday. May I take down the book your large 
 beautiful Gay's Fables, with prints, mamma V 
 
 " You may," said she. 
 
 She took down the book, and found the fable of the 
 Lion and the Cub, which Frank begged that she would 
 read to him, whilst he eat a second edition of cherry- 
 pie. * * * * 
 
 THE winter and spring passed, and summer came 
 again. Nothing remarkable occurred in Frank's history 
 during some months. 
 
 We must not, however, omit the history of some 
 rides which he took at different times with his father. 
 In one of these he went to see his friend Colonel Birch, 
 who was now, to his great happiness, with his regiment, 
 quartered in a neighbouring town. Colonel Birch rode 
 with them to the race-ground, where the regiment were 
 then exercising by the officer second in command. 
 
 Frank had never, till now, seen soldiers manoeuvred. 
 It was a regiment of horse ; and Frank was much 
 amused with seeing them perform their exercises. He 
 observed how obedient men and horses were to the 
 word of command, and how useful and necessary it was 
 that they should be so. The regiment were now dis- 
 mounted, and having formed into a line, Colonel Birch, 
 turning to Frank, said quickly, " Dismount, Frank, and 
 give your horse to this man to hold." 
 
 Frank did so with the same promptness with which 
 he saw the soldiers obey. The instant afterward he 
 heard a man call out some words which he did not dis- 
 tinctly hear, and all the soldiers fired at once, with a
 
 FRANK. 287 
 
 noise that made Frank start, and Felix rear and plunge 
 so much that the man could scarcely hold him. Frank 
 observed that Colonel Birch's horse, and the horses of 
 all the soldiers, stood perfectly quiet during the firing. 
 
 "Yes," said his father; "because they have been 
 trained or taught to do so." 
 
 " And whenever you can leave Felix with me," said 
 Colonel Birch, " for some time, I will have him taught 
 to stand fire, if you like it. It is all custom : you, Frank, 
 will stand fire the next time better yourself; you will 
 not start so much as you did just now, when you next 
 hear the men fire." 
 
 " I wish, sir, you would make them do it again," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " By-and-by," said the colonel, "they will fire again." 
 
 " Would you be so very good as to give me notice be- 
 forehand, that I may be prepared ?" said Frank. 
 
 " When you hear the words ' Make ready,' be pre- 
 pared, for ' Fire' will come soon afterward," said the 
 colonel. 
 
 As soon as Frank heard the words " Make ready," he 
 stood firm and upright, but squeezing the handle of his 
 whip very hard. " Present Fire !" Frank stood fire 
 this time with only a little, a scarcely perceptible start. 
 And the third time there was only a twinkling of the 
 eyelashes. 
 
 Colonel Birch smiled, and said, " There's the making 
 of a good soldier in that boy." 
 
 When Frank returned home after this ride, he acted 
 all that he could remember of the horse exercise, re- 
 peating it almost unceasingly for his mother and Mary : 
 and he showed how Felix reared and plunged when the 
 firing came ; and how he, the last time, stood stock still, 
 all except his eyelashes. The twinkling of the eye- 
 lashes he carefully excepted ; for though Frank, it must 
 be acknowledged, was sometimes rather vain, he was 
 always perfectly true ; his vanity never made him con- 
 ceal any circumstance that made against himself, that 
 is to say, when he recollected it. But his head was so 
 full of soldiers, and sergeants, and colonels, and uni- 
 forms, and pistols, and powder, and make ready ! pre- 
 sent ! fire ! and he repeated so often, " Mary, did I tell 
 you what Colonel Birch said of me 1 Mamma, do you 
 know Colonel Birch said, ' There's the making of a good 
 soldier in that boy,' " that his mother at last could bear
 
 288 FRANK. 
 
 it no longer, and she insisted on his being quiet, or go- 
 ing into the hall to finish his exercise. 
 
 A few days after this, his father took him to see a re- 
 view. He was amused by the galloping and firing, and 
 looking at the foot soldiers marching in line*, as if they 
 were all machines ; their legs, as he said, like parts of 
 a stocking-frame, which his father had once shown him. 
 He admired at first the fine caps and helmets of the offi- 
 cers, but he observed that these were hot and heavy. 
 He was excessively hoi himself, standing in the broiling 
 sun to see the review, which he thought lasted rather 
 long. When he was afterward sitting cool and comfort- 
 able in Colonel Birch's room, he heard that two or three 
 of the soldiers had dropped (fainted with the heat). He 
 expressed his surprise and pity; but the colonel said 
 that this was nothing uncommon , that it was part of a 
 soldier's duty to bear heat and- cold as it happened : and 
 as he spoke he took off his own heavy high helmet, 
 and wiped his forehead and face. Frank said, " I per- 
 ceive that being a soldier or an officer is not all play 
 and pleasure." 
 
 " No, in truth," said Colonel Birch : and some other 
 officers who were with him laughed ; and one said, " If 
 he thinks so much of this day's heat, what would he 
 think of the heat we had in Spain V 
 
 The officers then began to talk to one another of the 
 different battles in which they had been, in Spain, 
 France, and Flanders. First they spoke with triumph 
 of the battle of Waterloo. This delighted Frank, and 
 more than ever he wished to be a soldier. But then 
 another described the field of Waterloo the day after 
 the battle ; and he told such horrible things, that Frank's 
 blood thrilled ; and then he thought that for the whole 
 world he would not be a soldier. The officers closed 
 round, talking eagerly, without minding him, or recol- 
 lecting that he was present. He heard the truth about 
 the hardships, as well as the pleasures, of a soldier's 
 life. He looked at the prints which were hanging up 
 in the room the battles of Alexander, and the deaths 
 of General W T olfe and Lord Nelson ; but when he came 
 home this day, he read over again, with Mary, the 
 " Price of Victory" in " Evenings at Home." 
 
 One ride which Frank took about this time, he told 
 his mother and Mary was the most delightful ride in 
 the world : he said, " It was charming ! beautiful ! moat
 
 FRANK. 289 
 
 beautiful ! All rocks, and trees, and water, mamma ; 
 and water, and trees, and rocks, Mary you understand. 
 First, mamma, we went along your favourite lane, then 
 out into the common, and there was fine cantering till 
 we reached a great wood, and came under high shady 
 trees ; then we went on winding and winding round 
 the corners of rocks, not knowing what was to come 
 next, but at every turn something always appeared more 
 beautiful than before. At last we came to a park, and 
 from all that I could see of it over the paling, it is the 
 most beautiful park in the world : it is called Bellom- 
 bre." 
 
 " What a pretty name !" said Mary. 
 
 " But," continued Frank, " when we came to the park 
 gate oh, disappointment, Mary ! the people were not 
 at home ; and the woman at the gate stood with her 
 great keys in her hand, deaf, and stupid, and cross ; so 
 cross that she would not let us in, even to go through. 
 But 1 had one comfort ; we came home by a quite new 
 way, which I will not describe to you, because papa says 
 you shall drive there some time and see it, and seeing 
 is better than all the descriptions in the world quite 
 another thing." On this point, as in most others, Mary 
 agreed with Frank in taste. 
 
 No more accounts of Frank's rides at this season have 
 reached us. Felix was sent to Colonel Birch to be taught 
 to stand fire. 
 
 About this time Frank read some accounts of ship- 
 wrecks, from which he saw how useful it would be to 
 know how to swim, in order to save the lives of others, 
 or perhaps his own life. And in looking for the article 
 swimming, in some encyclopedia, he learned that the an- 
 cients considered this art as so necessary a part of 
 education, that when they wanted to describe a rude, 
 ignorant man, they said that he had not learned either 
 to read or to swim. 
 
 Immediately, with Mary's assistance, he hunted 
 through the library for an " Art of Swimming on Dry 
 Land," which once upon a time, in dusting the books, he 
 remembered to have seen. They found it, and, in com- 
 pliance with the directions there given, he began to 
 sprawl on the floor, and to spread out his arms for fins, 
 working with his legs as fishes do with their tails. This 
 exercise Mary could never see with as much gravity as 
 Frank required ; and she argued that swimming in real 
 N 25
 
 290 FRANK. t 
 
 water must be so different, that she did not think this 
 swimming on boards could be of much use. 
 
 He never listened much to her objections, till she one 
 day found, in one of Franklin's letters, some advice 
 which fixed his attention, and he started up from the 
 floor to listen to her as she read to him 
 
 " You will be no swimmer till you can place some con- 
 fidence in the power of the water to support you. I 
 would therefore advise your acquiring that confidence 
 in the first place." 
 
 " But look here," said Frank, turning over the page, 
 and pointing to another passage ; " he says, that if a per- 
 son unacquainted with swimming, and falling accident- 
 ally into the water, could have presence of mind suffi- 
 cient to avoid struggling and plunging, and to let the 
 body take this natural position, he might long continue 
 safe from drowning, till, perhaps, help would come." 
 
 But all depends, as Frank's mother observed, upon the 
 person's letting the body take this natural position ; and 
 what this might be Frank was not sure : he looked back 
 to find out ; and read several observations and direc- 
 tions : and Mary found that they all ended by saying, 
 
 " I cannot depend on your having the necessary pres- 
 ence of mind to recollect that posture, and the directions 
 1 gave you relating to it. The surprise may put all out 
 of your mind." 
 
 " Well then," said Frank, " let us see how it is neces- 
 sary to acquire this confidence in the power of the wa- 
 ter to support one, which he talks of so much." 
 
 Mary read on as follows 
 
 " Choosing a place where the water deepens gradual- 
 ly, walk coolly into it till it is up to your breast ; then 
 turn round your face to the shore, and throw an egg into 
 the water, between you and the shore. It will sink to 
 the bottom, and be easily seen there, as the water is 
 clear. It must lie in water so deep that you cannot 
 reach it to take it up but by diving for it. To encour- 
 age yourself in undertaking to do this, reflect that your 
 progress will be from deeper to shallower water, and 
 that at any time you may, by bringing your legs under 
 you, and standing on the bottom, raise your head far 
 above water. Then plunge under it with your eyes 
 open, throw yourself towards the egg, and endeavour, 
 by the action of your hands and feet against the water, 
 to get forward till within reach of it. In this attempt,
 
 FRANK. 291 
 
 you will find that the water buoys you up against your 
 inclination ; that it is not so easy a thing to sink as you 
 imagined ; that you cannot, but by active force, get 
 down to the egg. Thus you feel the power of the 
 water to support you, and learn to confide in that 
 power, while your endeavours to overcome it, and to 
 reach the egg, teach you the manner of acting on the 
 water with your feet and hands, which action is after- 
 ward used in swimming, to support your head higher 
 above water, or to go forward through it." 
 
 Frank wanted to set about this experiment of the egg 
 immediately, and said he knew a very good shallow 
 place near his island. But his mother insisted upon it 
 that nothing should be done without asking his father's 
 advice upon the subject. Now his father was out ri- 
 ding, and he was obliged to wait for three hours, which 
 he did with tolerable patience, amusing himself in the in- 
 terval with reading all that Franklin says on the art of 
 swimming in his own life, and in one of his essays, in 
 answer to some inquiries of a friend on the subject. 
 Some experiments which Franklin tried when he was a 
 boy particularly interested him, especially one about 
 swimming across a pond without the least fatigue, by 
 the help of a paper kite. The moment his father alight- 
 ed from his horse, and before he had time to lay down 
 his whip, Frank ran to him, and catching hold of him, 
 said, 
 
 " Papa, will you be so good as to teach me to swim 1 
 and to-morrow may I try the experiment of the egg and 
 the paper kite, which I will read to you now, if you 
 please"?" 
 
 His father thanked him, but said that he had not time 
 just then ; however, at a proper opportunity, he under- 
 took to teach him, or rather to let him learn to swim. 
 
 When he had leisure, he allowed Frank to try the ex- 
 periment of the egg, but that of the kite must be post- 
 poned, he said, tillhe was older, and till he should know 
 well how to swim. 
 
 He promised his mother that he would never go into 
 the water unless his father should give him leave, and 
 his father always was present during his first attempts. 
 After he had acquired that necessary confidence in the 
 support of the water on which Franklin and Mary laid 
 such judicious stress, he went into the water without 
 fear, and found that he could attend to the instructions 
 NS
 
 292 FRANK. 
 
 given him, which, at first, were simply to keep himself 
 balanced as well as he could by moving his arms about. 
 
 During the course of this summer, before the cold 
 weather came on, Frank could swim tolerably well, and 
 often he wished to swim when he was alone ; but as his 
 mother had required that he should not attempt this, he 
 repressed this desire as far as he could, nor did he tor- 
 ment her by asking above a hundred times to be ab- 
 solved from his promise. His mother was so secure 
 of his honour, that she never was anxious on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 At last Felix returned, and Frank's next ride was to 
 Colonel Birch, who was manoeuvring the regiment this 
 day himself, therefore could not speak to them ; and 
 Frank thought it was very long and tiresome, till it 
 came to the moment when Felix was to show that he 
 could stand fire, which he did. Frank sat him, and, as 
 he told Mary, this was all the diversion he had on pa- 
 rade ; it was only the same thing over and over again, 
 and he was glad when it was finished, and when Colo- 
 nel Birch could come to them. 
 
 " In his own house," said Frank, " or in his own cas- 
 tle (for he is lodged in the castle), he was very agree- 
 able and kind, mamma, as he always is, in recollecting 
 that I am by, and in showing me and telling me enter- 
 taining things. As we passed along the passages of the 
 castle, he showed me the narrow slits in the thick walls, 
 the loopholes through which people used to watch and 
 ward, and fire ; and he told me about how castles and 
 places were defended, both before and after the inven- 
 tion of fire-arms, Mary. But I need not tell you this, 
 because you will never have to defend places. But I 
 must tell you a story about playing with fire-arms, be 
 cause that may be useful to you and to everybody." 
 
 " Playing with fire-arms useful ! What can you mean, 
 Frank ?" said his mother. 
 
 " Not the playing with them, I mean, mamma. When 
 we went into the colonel's own room, he took up a pair 
 of Spanish pistols to show papa, and he said, ' I believe 
 they are not loaded, but I never trust to that belief with- 
 out trying.' Then he thrust the ramrod, as it is called, 
 down into the pistol, and showed me how to try whether 
 a pistol is loaded or not. And he advised me never to 
 snap a pistol or gun without first trying whether it is 
 loaded. He told me that when he was a boy, he was
 
 FRANK. 293 
 
 once very near killing his own brother by playing with 
 a gun, which he thought he was quite sure he had left 
 unloaded ; but his servant had loaded it again, and set it 
 up in the corner of .the parlour ; and Colonel Birch, not 
 knowing this, at night, by candlelight, took up the gun, 
 and in foolish play, said to his brother, ' dare you stand 
 fire T He fired, and the bullet whizzed by, put out the 
 candle, and lodged he did not know where for there 
 was a dead silence for an instant. His brother spoke, 
 and told him that he was not hurt : the bullet had lodged 
 in the wainscot just over his head. 
 
 " Colonel Birch could not relate this without shud- 
 dering. But I must make you shudder, Mary, with an- 
 other horrible story." 
 
 " Oh! Frank, pray tell me the story that will make 
 me shudder is it true V 
 
 " Quite true, papa said so ; and papa said it happened 
 to a relation of his own, a gentleman who was very fond 
 of his wife. 
 
 " One day her husband, in play, to try if she would 
 be frightened, took up a gun that was in the corner of 
 the room, feeling quite sure that it was not loaded, and 
 he pointed it at her : but she smiled, and said she knew 
 he would not hurt her ; she did not shrink, or change 
 countenance, but was so composed and quiet, that it 
 was no diversion to him to try to frighten her more ; 
 and though he had his finger on the trigger of the gun. 
 he did not pull it, but went to put it again in its place. 
 Before he put it by, however, he ran the ramrod down, 
 to show, as he thought, that it was not loaded ; but to 
 his astonishment and horror, he found a bullet in it. 
 Oh ! Mary, if he had fired it if he had shot his wife." 
 
 " Poor man 1 ."" said Mary: " how frightened he must 
 have been." 
 
 " Do you know, Mary, by-the-by, the trigger of a gun, 
 or of a pistol; and do you know how they are loaded 
 and fired t" 
 
 " Not exactly." 
 
 " Nor did I exactly, till this morning," said Frank. " I 
 had a general notion, but then I did not know about the 
 touch-hole, and the spark from the flint which sets the 
 gunpowder on fire. My father showed and explained all 
 this to me, and he will, I dare say, show it to you if you 
 ask him, because there is no harm in women knowing 
 about these things, is there, mamma ?" 
 25*
 
 294 FRANK. 
 
 " Far from harm, there is use in such knowledge, be- 
 cause it shows where and what the real danger is," an- 
 swered his mother. 
 
 " Not like some foolish lady, whom I heard say she 
 would not sit in a room with a gun or a pistol, lest it 
 should shoot her of itself. But, Mary," said Frank, " I 
 was going on to tell you, what I have forgotten twenty 
 times what gunpowder is made of. It is made of do 
 you know, Mary ?" 
 
 " No," said Mary. 
 
 " I will not tell you, Mary, till papa shows you how a 
 pistol is fired ; because, then, you will remember it as I do 
 now. I am very glad to know all about these manly 
 things ; they are must wants to man," said Frank, " and 
 when I am a man " 
 
 " My dear Frank," interrupted his mother, " it will be 
 long before that time comes. Finish first what you 
 have to tell us about Colonel Birch, and do not go off to 
 what you are to do when you are a man." 
 
 " Well, ma'am : he showed me next one of the sort 
 of muskets which people used when fire-arms were first 
 invented, and before they were perfected, when people 
 did not hold them in their hands all the time they pri- 
 med, and loaded, and fired. Mary, one of our history 
 facts was of use to me, and I was very glad to recollect 
 it. When Colonel Birch was showing me in a book 
 some strange old engravings of a battle, at which arms 
 were first used, I knew it was the battle of Crecy." 
 
 " I am glad you knew it," said Mary. 
 
 " So am I, because that made Colonel Birch talk to 
 me a great deal more, and show me a fine old bow ; and 
 he would have told and showed me many other things ; 
 but, unluckily, somebody came to call for him, and he 
 and papa were obliged to go and talk to some men, and 
 they did not choose to take me. So 1 was left alone a 
 good while." 
 
 " In the room with the guns and pistols," said Mary. 
 " But I am sure you did not meddle with them." 
 
 " No, indeed !" said Frank. " Touch them ! after all 
 Colonel Birch had said !" 
 
 " Oh no ; to be sure you never touch what is not your 
 own," Mary began but she stopped short ; for she did 
 not like to put him in mind of the unhappy day when 
 he meddled with the engineer's instruments. Frank 
 recollected it, however, and looked ashamed.
 
 FRANK. 295 
 
 " Well, what did you do when you were left alone in 
 Colonel Birch's room !" 
 
 " I looked at the prints and books, for he told me that 
 I might; and among the books I found one which Col- 
 onel Birch had borrowed from my father : there was 
 my father's name in it, and an inscription stamped in 
 printed gold letters ' Prize Book ;' and the date of the 
 time when it was given to him at school." 
 
 " And what was the book 1" said Frank's mother. 
 
 " Homer's Iliad, translated by Mr. Alexander Pope, 
 mamma." 
 
 His mother smiled ; he did not know why. 
 
 " Go on, my dear." 
 
 " So 1 went on, mamma, looking at this book ; and I 
 recollected papa's having told me once something about 
 the heroes in Homer's Iliad, Achilles and Hector, being 
 fond of talking to their horses, as I did to Felix. So I 
 looked to find this. And my father had said, too, that 
 I should like somebody with a hard name which I could 
 not remember ; but 1 thought that if I saw the name in 
 the book I should be sure to know it ; so 1 turned over 
 the leaves one by one, and as I was turning over the 
 pages I saw some beautiful lines about the moon, 
 Mary, which I learned by heart for you. 
 
 " ' As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, 
 O'er heaven's clear azure sheds her sacred light, 
 When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, 
 And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene; 
 Around her throne the vivid planets roll, 
 And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole, 
 O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, 
 And tip with silver every mountain's head. 
 Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, 
 A flood of glory bursts from all the skies, 
 The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, 
 Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.' " 
 
 Frank repeated these lines as if he felt their spirit 
 thoroughly. Mary was so much struck with them that 
 she stood silent with admiration. 
 
 She afterward asked him to say them again : and she 
 liked them better the second time than the first : she 
 wished to hear more of that poem, she said ; and she and 
 Frank asked his father if they might read" to themselves 
 the great Homer in his study. He thought that they, 
 could not yet understand it all, and that, therefore, it 
 would tire them if they attempted to read it to them-
 
 296 PRANK. 
 
 selves ; and thus they would spoil the great pleasure 
 which they would certainly have in reading it at a fu- 
 ture time. Before they could understand the Iliad, 
 they must, he said, have some knowledge of the fabu- 
 lous histories of the heathen gods and goddesses, or 
 what is called ancient mythology. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, " you forget that you did explain 
 some of this to us, and you lent me a little book, from 
 which mamma says we have learned all that is neces- 
 sary for understanding the Iliad and Odyssey." 
 
 Finding upon examiaation that this was true, his 
 father told him, as shortly as he could, the general his- 
 tory or argument of the poem, and complied with his 
 request of reading a few passages to him. He thought 
 that even hearing the sound of good lines early forms 
 or teaches the ear to like harmonious poetry. 
 
 Among the passages which their father read to them 
 was the account of some games of wrestlers, and ra- 
 cers, and chariot-drivers. And when his father read 
 of these, and came to Antilochus, Frank recollected 
 that this was the name of the chief whom his father 
 said he would like ; and though it is dangerous often to 
 praise beforehand, yet Frank did like Antilochus, for 
 acknowledging when he was wrong in having overturn- 
 ed his rival's chariot in the race, and Frank admired him 
 for giving up the prize which he had unfairly won. 
 
 Frank and Mary were sorry when the book was 
 closed, and they hoped that another day they should 
 hear some more. They wished particularly to hear 
 something of the parting of Hector and Andromache : 
 for they had seen a print of it, representing his taking 
 off his helmet, because it frightened his little child. 
 
 Mary went to search in the large portfolio for this 
 print, and she found it, and read with fresh delight the 
 following lines, which were written under the print : 
 
 " ' Th' illustrious chief of Troy ' " 
 " That means Hector, you know," said Frank. 
 
 " ' TV illustrious chief of Troy 
 Stretched his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. 
 The babe clung crying to its nurse's breast, 
 Scar'd at the dazzling helm and nodding crest. ~ . *,> 
 With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled, 
 And Hector hasted to relieve his child ; 
 The glitt'ring terrors from his brows unbound, 
 And placed the beaming helmet on the ground.' "
 
 FRANK. 297 
 
 LATE one evening Frank's father came in with a let- 
 ter in his hand. Frank heard him read it. It was from 
 his friend the engineer, and it concluded with these 
 words 
 
 " I shall be with you in three days after you receive 
 this letter, and I hope that I shall find that my young 
 friend" 
 
 " That's me," said Frank. 
 
 " Has made himself, according to his good resolution, 
 quite clear about day and night, and summer and win- 
 ter." 
 
 " My dear Frank," said Mary, " have you ever thought 
 of it since V 
 
 " I did once," said Frank. " I understood it almost 
 then, and I dare say I can recollect it, though I own it 
 is a very long time since I thought of it." 
 
 " You can try and explain it to me," said Mary, " and 
 that will do you good and me too." 
 
 Frank began trying to explain. But after making 
 sundry motions with his hands, and saying the earth 
 goes round the sun this way, and the moon goes that 
 way, and this way he found that Mary could not un- 
 derstand him ; he must wait then, he said, till the lamp 
 was lighted in the hall, and then he was sure he could 
 make it perfectly plain. When the lamp was lighted, 
 he, with Mary's assistance, placed under it an oval table. 
 
 " Now, Mary, my dear, 1 will act the earth for you," 
 said he. " Let that lamp be the sun, which always 
 stands still, and I will be the earth, which never stands 
 still, and by-and-by you shall be the moon; but we 
 shall not come to the moon yet. So as yet you have 
 nothing to do but to look at me. Now it shall be the time 
 of the equinox, equal day and night : so my head being 
 the globe of the earth, you see the light shining upon 
 my face and half my head. And now the earth begins 
 to turn, turn, turn, slowly round, and in twelve hours 
 has turned half round, thus : then it is night for my 
 face, which is in the dark, and it is daylight for the 
 back of my head. Then the earth turns, turns, and in 
 twelve hours more has turned quite round on its axis." 
 
 " Axis !" interrupted Mary, " what do you mean by 
 axis !" 
 
 " Axis ! my dear Mary, don't you know what axis 
 means ? Why ! axis means it is so easy I cannot ex- 
 N3
 
 98 
 
 plain it to you, if you cannot see what it means ; the 
 earth turns upon its axis, you know, and I turn upon my 
 axis, you see." 
 
 " You turn upon your foot, but the earth has no foot, 
 Frank." 
 
 " No, nor has it an axis any more than a foot in 
 reality. The earth's axis is only a supposed pin, or a 
 pole, on which it is supposed to turn ; and one end of 
 that pole is the north pole, and the other end the south 
 pole. Here, the top of my head is the north pole, sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " I must suppose a great deal," said Mary. " Well, I 
 understand about day and night, at the equinox ; but 
 now tell me the cause of the different lengths of day 
 and night at different times of the year : that's the diffi- 
 culty." 
 
 "No difficulty, Mary, if you will only look at me. 
 Look, I am the earth going round and round on my own 
 axis, that makes day and night, and round the sun at 
 the same time, for summer and winter." 
 
 *' For summer and winter," said Mary. 
 
 " My dear Mary, if you stick at every word you will 
 never understand." 
 
 " But, my dear Frank, I must stick if I don't under- 
 stand ; and, indeed, if you will not let me tell you the 
 word at which I stick, I am afraid I never shall under- 
 stand. I am very stupid." 
 
 " No, you are not stupid, my dear. Only never ' 
 mind words, I cannot explain it in words ; but look at 
 me, and you will understand it all perfectly." 
 
 She looked with resigned attention, while Frank went 
 on spinning on one foot, and at the same time advancing 
 continually in his circuit round the oval table, still call- 
 ing as he went, " Day ! night ! equinox ! summer ! long- 
 sst day ! equinox ! shortest day !" 
 
 But before Mary could understand this, Frank grew 
 sick with spinning round. His head failed before the 
 earth had completed its annual journey round the sun ; 
 he stopped, and, staggering to a chair, sat down, decla- 
 ring he could not act earth for Mary any longer till he 
 had rested. 
 
 She pitied him, and blamed her own dulness of com- 
 prehension; but, after resting himself a few minutes, 
 Frank started up, exclaiming, 
 
 ." You are right and I am wrong. Oh ! I forgot that
 
 FRANK. 299 
 
 the axis of the earth must be sloping : there could be 
 no summer or winter without that, Mary ; do you un- 
 derstand?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 Mary looked still more stupified than before. 
 
 " My dear Frank," said his mother, stopping him 
 " you cannot possibly explain what you do not clearly 
 comprehend. You had better, as your friend the engi- 
 neer advised, read the explanations of these things in 
 Joyce's Scientific Dialogues. Here are the passages 
 which he took the trouble to mark for you." 
 
 Frank read the titles of the chapters : '"On the diur- 
 nal motion of the earth.' The daily motion of the earth, 
 that I know perfectly well," said he. " Then comes, 
 ' Of day and night.' To be sure, all .that everybody 
 knows, Mary. ' Of the seasons.' This I will read di- 
 rectly : for this is the thing I do not know." 
 
 " The only thing I do not know," he would have said, 
 but that he was restrained by something like modesty. 
 He sat down to the chapter on the seasons, telling Mary 
 that he should finish it, and have it all clear for her be- 
 fore he went to bed. 
 
 Perhaps from his not having read those two prece- 
 ding chapters, at which he disdained te look, he found 
 the affair of summer and winter still incomprehensible. 
 And as young readers sometimes quarrel with a book 
 when they should quarrel with themselves, Frank began 
 to criticise rather severely. 
 
 " Now,' in this first sentence, the very first thing I 
 want to know I cannot make out. The man says that 
 the axis of the earth is inclined twenty-three and a half 
 degrees. I don't know what he means by ' degrees,' 
 ' direction parallel to itself,' ' orbit,' ' elliptical,' ' a long 
 ellipse,' ' vertical to the tropic of cancer,' ' vertical to 
 the equator,' ' apparent diameter.' I am sure I don't 
 know what he means. I wish he would leave out his 
 hard words, and tell me plainly what one wants to 
 know. He has made it so difficult that it is really 
 impossible for anybody living to understand it," cried 
 Frank. 
 
 Mary, who was growing sleepy, said that it was very 
 foolish for anybody to write what nobody living could 
 understand; and with that wise conclusion she went 
 off to bed. 
 
 ' Mamma," continued Frank, " I do believe this man
 
 300 FRANK. 
 
 does not understand it himself, because he cannot ex- 
 plain it." 
 
 " Because you cannot understand his explanation, do 
 you mean, Frank?" 
 
 " No, mother ; but I really do not think he knows 
 clearly what he is about. Now, ma'am, just listen to 
 this ; here is one great mistake, I am sure," cried Frank. 
 " The tutor says, ' we are, indeed, more than three mill- 
 ions of miles nearer the sun in December than we are 
 in June.' What ! nearer the sun in winter than in sum- 
 mer t You know, mamma, that is absurd. What an 
 ignorant, foolish tutor!" 
 
 " I will not say, what an ignorant, foolish boy," said 
 Frank's mother. 
 
 Frank, abashed, read on for some time^in silence, and 
 perceived, by what followed, that the poor tutor was 
 right, and that he was wrong ; but when he came to 
 something about the sun's apparent diameter, and some 
 figures with commas placed after them, he passed over 
 them, because he could not tell what they meant. And 
 in the next page, " What is the use," said he to himself, 
 " of telling me that, ' secondly, in summer the days are 
 very long, and the nights short ;' I know that without 
 his tiresome secondly.'''' 
 
 In short, Frank quarrelled with every thing he met 
 with, either as too easy or too difficult, and when he 
 came to the last page, he declared that he understood 
 no more than he had done at the first : and his mother 
 believed him, and advised him to go to bed ; something, 
 too, she said about conceit and presumption, which 
 Frank did not like to hear. He retired much mortified : 
 he was glad, however, that Mary had gone to bed, and 
 had not heard his foolish criticisms, or the just rebuke 
 which he had received. 
 
 The next day, in a fitter disposition to learn, he re- 
 turned to the book ; and this time he took his mother's 
 advice, and began at the beginning, and read carefully 
 all that had been marked for him. And this time, when 
 he came to any thing which he did not comprehend, he 
 did not either skip it or quarrel with it, but stopped to 
 inquire from his mother the meaning of the words, or 
 to look back for their previous explanation. He was 
 surprised to find how much there was in the chapters 
 which he had missed, which he did not know, or which 
 he had not accurately understood. Still more surprised
 
 FRANK. 301 
 
 was he at discovering how necessary it was perfectly 
 to understand each part before he could comprehend the 
 next. To make amends for last night's impatience, he 
 was to-day resolutely patient and persevering. But 
 this morning he worked too hard and too long, as Mary 
 observed : he would not stir from the book all the morn- 
 ing. His mother in vain remonstrated, assuring him 
 that he would tire himself; and she refused at last to 
 hear him read any more, or to assist him with further 
 explanations. 
 
 " But, my dear mother," said Frank, " do pray let me 
 finish this chapter, and then I will go out and play : 
 when once I understand what is meant by a degree I 
 will go out, but not till then, Mary, if I sit here till din- 
 ner-time, so you need not wait for me, my dear." 
 
 She did wait, however, and waited in vain. Frank 
 read and read on, and fatigued himself so excessively 
 that he grew quite stupid, and in that condition his 
 mother found him when she returned from her walk, 
 some time after the dressing-bell rang. 
 
 " Mamma, it is not for want of perseverance now," 
 said he, with a tremulous voice ; " I have been at it four 
 hours. And I am sure this time it is not from conceit," 
 added he, with a sigh. " I am so stupid, that I am sure 
 I never can understand all this about summer and win- 
 ter ; and the engineer will come the day after to-mor- 
 row, and after all he will find me like the triangle man : 
 there are some things I believe I never can understand. 
 Oh, mamma ! I am exceedingly stupid." 
 
 " No, my dear," said his mother, " you are not ex- 
 ceedingly stupid, but you are exceedingly tired: you 
 will understand all these things in time, if you will not 
 read too much at once." 
 
 "In time, mamma! Do you mean before the engi- 
 neer comes T Consider, I have only two days : here is 
 one day quite lost. Oh, mamma ! I wish you had or- 
 dered me to go out," said Frank. " You know I could 
 not have disobeyed you; and then I should not have 
 lost the whole day." 
 
 His mother told him that she had thought it better to 
 leave him to learn by his own experience. 
 
 " It is very difficult to stop," said Mary, " when one 
 is eager to go on." 
 
 " Very difficult not to do too little or too much at 
 once," said Frank. 
 
 26
 
 302 FRANK. 
 
 Very difficult, his mother acknowledged, not only for 
 such a little boy as Frank, but for grown-up people. 
 
 "Even for you, mamma] Do you ever feel this?" 
 said Frank. 
 " Often, my dear." 
 This was some consolation. 
 
 " Now go and get ready for dinner ; we will take a 
 pleasant walk this evening to refresh you, and to-mor- 
 row I will read with you for one hour, my dear Frank, 
 and I dare say we shall find that you are not stupid." 
 
 The next day Frank, with revived resolution, renew- 
 ed his attempts ; this time he neither did too little nor 
 too much. He gave his whole attention to what he was 
 about while he was reading, and when he felt that he 
 could attend no longer, he did not go on reading words 
 without understanding their meaning ; but honestly con- 
 fessed that he was tired, laid down the book, and went 
 out to refresh himself with bodily exercise. 
 
 Before the two days were at an end, and before the 
 engineer returned, Frank had conquered his difficulties ; 
 and with his mother's assistance he clearly understood 
 what he had thought that he could never comprehend. 
 In the intervals of these his serious studies, Frank 
 had relieved his attention, and amused himself happily, 
 by acting with Mary, Madera and the English captain. 
 His black hat, great coat, and black silk handkerchief, 
 did what they could towards metamorphosing Mary into 
 the English captain ; though Frank complained that she 
 never looked bluff enough ; but she thought he looked 
 very like Madera, when he wore a large basket-work 
 hat of her making, after the Chinese, or rather the 
 great Loo-choo fashion, such as the pattern in the en- 
 gravings. 
 
 Madera's behaviour on various occasions, especially 
 when he dined with the captain, was acted to the life ; 
 and that sentence of English which he had learned to 
 pronounce so well, " Take mustard to him, Tom," was 
 not forgotten. 
 
 The second day they acted the two knights, disputing 
 about the gold and silver shield ; but, for want of a 
 benevolent druid to come by and settle their differen- 
 ces exactly at the right time, they were obliged to end 
 the scene tragically, by the death of both knights. 
 
 No riding for Frank this week, for his father was at- 
 tending his public duty at the assizes. He was absent
 
 FRANK. 
 
 from home all day, and seldom returned till after Frank's 
 bedtime. But the day when the assizes were over he 
 happily came back at teatime, and Frank had the pleas- 
 ure of hearing him give an account of some entertaining 
 trials : he was so good as to stop in his narrative sev- 
 eral times to explain to Frank whatever he did not un- 
 derstand about empannelling the jury, cross-examining wit- 
 nesses, and giving a verdict. From an entertaining trial 
 in " Evenings at Home," Frank had acquired some no- 
 tion of these things ; but now he was still more inter- 
 ested in hearing of what passed in a real court of jus- 
 tice. In one of these trials it happened that the life of 
 a man accused of a robbery was saved by the clear 
 evidence and the character for truth of a boy of eleven 
 years old. Frank and Mary could think and talk of 
 nothing but this boy and this trial the next morning, 
 till they heard the sound of a carriage. 
 " Oh, Frank, it is our friend the engineer !" said Mary ; 
 " I hope you have not forgotten the axis of the earth !" 
 ' Frank's attention had been turned so completely to 
 the trial, that he was afraid he had forgotten all the sea- 
 sons and their change. No there is no danger that 
 what has been once thoroughly understood and well 
 learned, should be soon forgotten. Though Frank's at- 
 tention had been turned to new and interesting things, 
 yet he found that he could easily recall to his mind what 
 he had learned ; he knew the reasons for each step as 
 he went on, and each came to his recollection in proper 
 time and order. 
 
 His friend the engineer was satisfied. 
 
 " Now, my dear," said he, " 1 am at your service. If 
 there is any thing that you wish to know which I can 
 explain to you, I will. Or, if there is any thing that I 
 can do for you, ask, and I shall be glad to assist you." 
 
 Frank thought for an instant, and the colour came into 
 his face ; Mary wondered what he was going to ask. 
 
 " Sir, there is one thing you could do for me," said 
 Frank, " that I should like very much. Would you be so 
 good as to walk with us this morning, or this evening, 
 or whenever you have time, to see a boy who is very 
 ingenious ; a gardener's son, who is making a sundial, 
 and who is in a great difficulty about it : and you could 
 help him, I dare say ; would you be so good!" 
 
 " And would you rather that I should do this for the 
 gardener's son than any thing for yourself!"
 
 304 PRANK, j 
 
 " Much rather," said Frank. 
 
 " Then I will do this first, and you shall afterward find 
 out something that I can do for you," said the engineer. 
 
 All approved of Frank's request ; Mary especially re- 
 joiced, for she had never been at the gardener's with 
 the green gate since he had had his new hothouse. 
 
 The walk was pleasanter than usual to Frank, though 
 it was not new : perhaps because he was pleased with 
 the consciousness that he was doing what was good-na- 
 tured. The gardener's boy was at work at his sundial 
 when they arrived, with a book open beside him, and 
 a print of a sundial, marked with many crosslines, 
 squares, letters, and figures. Frank read over the boy's 
 shoulder, " New geometrical method of constructing sun- 
 dials :" and saw the pages full of what he could not un- 
 derstand ; but he felt happy in showing the engineer 
 how much this boy knew ; and Frank hoped that he 
 should in time know as much ; meanwhile, he stood by 
 rejoicing that the engineer seemed to like Andrew, 
 whose modesty, indeed, pleased him as much as his 
 industry and ingenuity. 
 
 The engineer kindly showed the boy where he had 
 been wrong in his attempts at constructing his sundial, 
 and put him in the way to execute it rightly. 
 
 Frank ran for some copies of maps which he had 
 seen of Andrew's drawing ; and when he had examined 
 them, the engineer said, " if this young lad will apply 
 steadily for another year, and improve himself in cer- 
 tain things which I shall point out, I will employ him 
 as one of my surveyors." 
 
 Andrew's eyes sparkled with joy ; and the old garden- 
 er, who knew what a great advantage this would be to 
 his son, thanked the engineer with a bow such as Frank 
 had never seen him make before. 
 
 "My dear Frank," whispered Mary, "how glad you 
 must be that you asked the engineer to come here !" 
 
 " Glad ! I never was so glad in my life," said Frank. 
 He afterward said to Mary, 
 
 " Do you know, I really think I felt happier in show- 
 ing that poor boy's drawings and maps, than if I had 
 done them all myself, and had been ever so much 
 praised for them." 
 
 It may have been observed that Frank loved praise, 
 perhaps too much. But now, when he had an opportu- 
 nity of feeling the pleasure of benevolence, he discover
 
 FRANK. 
 
 305 
 
 ed how much greater it is than the selfish triumph of 
 vanity 
 
 " Feed him with apricots and dewberries, 
 With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries." 
 
 FRANK liked apricots, grapes, figs, mulberries, and 
 dewberries too ; if, as the learned suppose, dewberries 
 must here mean raspberries. Fine Antwerp raspberries 
 the gardener of the green gate possessed, and all that he 
 had was this evening eagerly offered to his guests, to 
 whom, on his son Andrew's account, he felt most grate- 
 ful : he first presented, or was going to present, to Frank 
 his finest peach, his largest, ripest violet peach, which 
 is, as he said, esteemed by many the queen of fruits. 
 Frank, however, drew back a little behind Mary, as he 
 saw the gardener's hand and the queen of fruits moving 
 towards him, and the peach was offered to Mary. 
 
 " 1 wish you would show her," said Frank, " all that 
 you showed me when I was here before, and tell her 
 every thing you can that is curious and entertaining." 
 
 " With pleasure," said the gardener. " Andrew, my 
 boy, bring the best basket after us, for cherries may 
 stain the young lady's white frock. But she must have 
 some of my cherries." 
 
 Andrew followed with the basket, which was soon 
 filled with fruits from all parts of the world ; and as 
 each was put into the basket, Mary was asked if she 
 knew from what country it originally came. Some she 
 knew, and some she was told, and some she remember- 
 ed, and some she had forgotten. Grapes, she believed, 
 came from France and Italy, peaches and nectarines 
 from Persia. 
 
 " Nectarines," as the learned gardener added, " owe 
 their name to nectar, which Master Frank no doubt 
 knows was the poetical drink of the gods." 
 
 Our friend the gardener, in the joy and gratitude of 
 his heart, was lavish of his learning, which he thought 
 more valuable than fruit or flower. With every flower 
 he gathered and presented to her he gave the Latin 
 name, seldom the English, till particularly inquired for. 
 To most, of these Latin names he added, in the same 
 language, the names of the family, class, and genus to 
 which each individual properly belonged. 
 25*
 
 306 FRANK. 
 
 When he came to his geraniums, and was set a-going 
 by Mary asking him the name of one with large bright 
 scarlet flowers, he could not leave them till he had in- 
 troduced to her twenty-four geraniums, or pellargo- 
 niums, as he called them. The twenty-four names of 
 the pellargoniums went in at one of Mary's little ears 
 and out at the other ; and she looked, as Frank said, 
 quite dunced, his favourite and expressive word for stu- 
 pified. But her countenance brightened, and became 
 intelligent and grateful, whenever he told any circum- 
 stance worth knowing ; so that the gardener, observing 
 that his learning was thrown away upon her, and that 
 his sense was valued, soon spared her as many as he 
 could prevail upon himself to omit of his polysyllabic 
 names, and told her many curious and useful facts. For 
 instance how she might keep geraniums alive through 
 the winter, without having them in a conservatory. He 
 bid her take them out of the earth in autumn, when the 
 leaves begin to fall, and bury them in sand in a house, 
 as carrots are preserved, where they must remain till 
 the first warm weather in spring. Leaf buds will be 
 seen on them when they are taken out of the sand, and 
 these will put forth immediately, if the geraniums are 
 then planted in a sheltered situation. 
 
 She observed some fine July-flowers, which the gar- 
 dener said had lived in the open air all the last winter, 
 though it had been a severe season ; and she asked if 
 these had been kept in sand. No, these had been pre- 
 served by another method: he had formerly always 
 thought it necessary to keep them in a house ; but had 
 learned that, by planting them near evergreens, they 
 lived, sheltered by these good warm nurses, as he called 
 them. 
 
 Some believe that the evergreens emit or send out 
 warmth ; others doubt this, and say that they only 
 shelter the plants near them. How this might be, the 
 gardener could not pretend to decide as yet ; but he had 
 read an account, he said, of many experiments tried in 
 this way, by a gentleman in the north of Ireland, a Mr. 
 Templeton, who in this manner succeeded in keeping 
 several tender plants out in winter, and in accustoming 
 to our climate many which came from warmer coun- 
 tries. 
 
 Mary was interested in listening to this, because she 
 had some fine July-flowers, which she wished to keep
 
 FRANK. 307 
 
 alive all the winter, and she resolved that she also 
 would try this experiment. 
 
 After having completed her progress through the 
 greenhouse, hothouse, flower-garden, and shrubbery, 
 Mary thought there was nothing more to see ; but the 
 gardener asked if she would like to look at his apiary. 
 Mary hesitated : she answered, 
 
 " If there are only two or three I shall like it ; but if 
 there are a great many I would rather not." 
 
 The gardener replied that there were a great many 
 to be sure, but that there was no danger; that they 
 would not do her any harm if she would stand quietly. 
 
 " Will they make a great chattering !" said Mary. 
 
 " A great buzzing they will make, to be sure," said the 
 gardener; "but there is no danger of their stinging 
 you." 
 
 " Stinging me !" repeated Mary, looking very much 
 puzzled : " how could they sting me V 
 
 Frank, who guessed her mistake, asked what sort of 
 animal she expected to see in an apiary. 
 
 " I expect," said Mary, " to see apes." 
 
 <; I knew it, I knew it," cried Frank, laughing tri- 
 umphantly ; but recollecting former times, and fagots 
 and maggots, he checked himself, and only said gravely, 
 " not apes, my dear, but bees ; from apis, Latin for a 
 bee." 
 
 Mary went with great eagerness to look at the apiary, 
 now she understood what she was to see. 
 
 She asked what flow ers bees love best, as she saw 
 several kinds of herbs and flowers near the hives. 
 
 The gardener mentioned rosemary and thyme, which 
 have been famed as favourites of the bees for many 
 ages. " Ever since the days of Virgil, sir, you know, 
 said he, turning to Frank's father, and quoting some 
 lines from one of the Georgics. Frank wished that he 
 could have understood them. 
 
 " Now I know one reason why you were so eagerly 
 reading the Georgics the other day," thought Frank. 
 
 Mary was now examining with delight a glass bee- 
 hive. The gardener begged leave to send it home for 
 her; and he gave much good advice, both as to the 
 choice of the flowers she should keep near them, and 
 those which she should never allow to be in their neigh- 
 bourhood. Yew and box he bid her avoid. And again 
 turniag to the gentleman, the learned gardener obser-
 
 808 FRANK. 
 
 ved, that " Virgil warns us of the poisonous nature of 
 honey made from the yew or box. It is disputed which 
 the poet meant; but, for his part, he was inclined to 
 believe it must be box, because he had, he said, heard 
 from a traveller, who had lately visited Corsica, that to 
 this day the bees are very fond of the flowers of the 
 box, which abounds there, and the honey they make 
 from it is poisonous." 
 
 Mary, who had never before heard that honey could 
 be poisonous, listened with much curiosity, and some 
 alarm, to all the gardener said. 
 
 He pointed out to Mary a shrub with beautiful flowers, 
 one of the kalmias, which he had this evening intro- 
 duced to her, but whose name she could not recollect. 
 He told her that it is said that bees extract poisonous 
 honey from the flowers of this shrub in parts of North 
 America, where it abounds. 
 
 This fact was discovered some years ago by a party 
 of twenty-five young Americans, who, having observed 
 that the bees loved this flower very much, carried their 
 beehives into a savanna, a large damp meadow, in 
 which there were such quantities of this beautiful kal- 
 mia, that it was described as quite painted with its 
 flowers. The bees flew to them eagerly, and their 
 honey increased prodigiously ; but when the young bee- 
 men eat of it, they found that it intoxicated them and 
 made them sick, and they feared that it would kill them 
 if they ate more of it. 
 
 That they might not lose all their labour and their 
 honey, they made it into a kind of drink called metheg- 
 lin, or mead ; but still this was poisonous, and they 
 were obliged to give it up, and to remove their bee- 
 hives to another place, far away from the beautiful flow- 
 ers of the kalmia, of which the bees were so fond. 
 
 At the end of this story, Mary, turning to Frank, said 
 she thought she had heard that what is called instinct 
 prevents animals from eating what is poisonous or bad 
 for them; but that this story of the American bees 
 proved that animals dp sometimes eat what is poison- 
 ous, and therefore their instinct is not always in the 
 right. 
 
 Frank was not entirely convinced by Mary's reason- 
 ing. He said " that he thought the story, if it were 
 ever so true, proved only that bees did not know what 
 would make their honey poisonous to man. It was not
 
 FRANK. 309 
 
 said or proved that their honey, after eating of these 
 flowers, was poisonous to the bees themselves was it 1" 
 said Frank, appealing to the gardener. 
 
 He did not know. Frank's father was glad to hear 
 him reason so well. 
 
 While they were speaking, Mary observed that several 
 bees settled upon the gardener's arm, and that he and 
 they seemed to be well acquainted. He told her that 
 he knew a woman who had become so intimate with 
 bees, and had obtained such influence over them, that 
 they would obey her call, and come or go at her bidding. 
 Her power over them was so extraordinary that she 
 had made it a public show. The gardener said that he 
 and many other people had seen her with swarms of 
 bees which settled on her arm so thick that they looked 
 like a muff; and they would lie still or fly, as she desired, 
 come when they were called, and do as they were bid- 
 den ; he would not say " shut the door after them," but 
 certainly return to their hive when she ordered them. 
 
 The gardener, seeing Mary so much interested on 
 this subject, told her that she might find a great many 
 entertaining anecdotes and curious facts concerning 
 bees, in a book written by a blind gentleman of Geneva, 
 Mr. Huber, who has been so kindly assisted by his 
 family, and who has so well directed their observations, 
 that he has seen more, at least acquired more knowl- 
 edge, by the sight of others, than most people ever ac- 
 quire by their own eyes. Frank's mother said she had 
 the book, and that she would look out for Mary such 
 parts as would suit her. 
 
 It was now necessary to take leave ; and Mary had 
 by this time a nosegay almost as large as herself, and 
 in her hat a plume of the feathery flower of the maize 
 or Indian corn, high as herself, and higher ; and Frank 
 had a basket of fruit that he begged to carry home, and 
 a book which he had borrowed from Andrew, and which, 
 he said, he would rather have for his share than all the 
 flowers and fruit put together. 
 
 It should be observed, that at the time of making this 
 declaration, Frank had eaten as much fruit as he could 
 conveniently ; and as to flowers, he never knew what 
 to do with them, except to give them to his mother or 
 Mary. As they walked home, Frank and Mary talked 
 of the number of new things which they had seen this 
 evening; and she finished by observing that they all
 
 310 FRANK. 
 
 owed the walk to Frank's good choice and good-na- 
 ture. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, "what an extraordinarily learned 
 person the gardener is, for a man in his rank of life ! 
 Is not this very uncommon t" , 
 
 " Not very uncommon in the country from which he 
 comes," said the engineer. " He comes from Scotland ; 
 and there it is happily the custom to give to people in 
 his class of life a good education." 
 
 FOR this evening there had been amusement enough ; 
 the engineer, therefore, did not ask Frank for his second 
 request till the next evening at tea-time ; then, when he 
 had finished all his business, as he said, for that day, he 
 turned to Frank, and said, 
 
 " Now, my little Jriend, what can I do for you ? what 
 is your second request ?" 
 
 " Sir," said Frank, " there are some wonderful things, 
 very long sticks with knobs at the end of them, which 
 you desired should be locked up very carefully : you 
 said that they might do mischief if they were not taken 
 care of : and when I asked you what they were, you 
 said to me in a great hurry, as you were going by, some 
 very odd names, which 1 thought were mistakes, for 
 you said one was a sort of flower, and the other a sort 
 of wheel I cannot recollect the names ; would you tell 
 them to me again, and tell me what they are 1" 
 
 " Perhaps," answered the engineer, " I said rockets, 
 and a Catharine- wheel." 
 
 " Yes," cried Frank, " those were the very names ; 
 but how can those sticks be wheels or flowers V 
 
 The engineer began to explain to him that these are 
 names which are given to a sort of fireworks. At the 
 sound of the word fireworks Mary and Frank both ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " How I should like to see fireworks !" 
 
 " Oh, sir," said Frank, " may I ask, may this be my 
 second request, that you would show us some fire- 
 works ?" 
 
 His friend, smiling, said that he was happy to oblige 
 him ; and that he would show him two rockets and a 
 Catharine-wheel. 
 
 The key of the closet was brought to get the rockets,
 
 PRANK. 3H 
 
 and a lantern being procured, they all went out Upon 
 the open grass-plot, before the door, to let off the fire- 
 works. The engineer placed Frank and Mary so that 
 they could see well. 
 
 He told Frank that what he called the knobs at the 
 top of the sticks, were cases of stiff paper, filled with a 
 preparation of gunpowder ; and that when he should 
 hold a candle to the paper, it would set fire to the gun- 
 powder, which, when it blew up, would carry the stick to 
 a considerable height in the air : the rest they would 
 see. 
 
 Mary was so much startled by the first burst of fire, 
 that she shut her eyes, and did not see the course of the 
 rocket. It was very well for her that the engineer had 
 another, which she did look at, and liked very much : 
 high in air it exploded and blazed like a vast star of fire, 
 from which little stars broke and fell, scattering them- 
 selves all round, lasting several seconds of time. The 
 Catharine wheel was still more beautiful, whirling round 
 and round like a wheel on fire. They were delighted 
 with the fireworks, which more than equalled their ex- 
 pectations. Frank said that he should like to make 
 some for himself, if his father would be so good as to 
 give him some gunpowder. But his father said that he 
 could not trust him with gunpowder, and enjoined him 
 never to attempt to play with it, or to set it on fire. 
 
 Frank was, he said, very sorry that this was to be the 
 last day of the engineer. Frank had shown some in- 
 stances of ingenuity and ready recollection of his knowl- 
 edge, with which he had been much pleased. He re- 
 peated some of these to Frank's mother, who listened 
 with pleasure, mixed with some degree of apprehen- 
 sion, that by such praise Frank would be too much ela- 
 ted. She knew his foible of vanity, and so did he, and 
 had been lately on his guard against it. But this was 
 too strong for him ; his spirits were high, and he wanted 
 to raise his friend's opinion of him, by displaying at once 
 his whole stock of learning. It happened to be a fine 
 starlight night : he called everybody to look at the stars, 
 on purpose that he might talk of them ; for Frank had 
 read Sanford and Merton, and had learned at least as 
 much as Tommy Merton. He knew the Greater Bear 
 and the Lesser, and the Pole-star, and Orion, and Lyra ; 
 and, not aware how much more there is to be known, 
 imagined that he was very near being a great astronomer.
 
 312 PRANK. 
 
 The engineer had brought out "a telescope, and waa 
 fixing it for him, that he might show him the planet Sa- 
 turn and its ring ; but Frank never looked at it, but was 
 intent only on showing his little stock of learning, and 
 interrupting whatever the engineer was saying ; he be- 
 gan counting to Mary all the stars, whose names he had 
 lately learned, talking of them as if they were all his 
 own familiar acquaintance, and had scarcely been heard 
 of by anybody else in the world. He asked Mary if 
 she knew that there was a great circle in the heavens 
 called the ecliptic, and wondered that she could not 
 name all the signs of the zodiac ; he named them all as 
 fast as possible. He talked on, hoping that everybody 
 was admiring him ; but no applause ensued : his friend 
 the engineer was too good a friend to encourage him in 
 conceit. When at last he stopped, there was a mortify- 
 ing silence. Mary felt what was thought of Frank ; she 
 was ashamed for him : and now he saw this, he per- 
 ceived that his father and mother were ashamed of him. 
 He grew very hot, all over, and stood quite still and 
 abashed, pinching his little finger very hard to relieve 
 the pain of his mind. His father soon called to him, 
 and kindly lowered the telescope for him to look at Sa- 
 turn's ring this was a humane relief. 
 
 Mary asked where that circle in the heavens called 
 the ecliptic was to be seen ? 
 
 The engineer told her that there was no such circle in 
 reality, but that it was a supposed circle, by which the 
 heavens are divided. 
 
 Mary again asked of what use it was to suppose that 
 there is this circle * 
 
 The engineer turned to Frank, and asked him if he 
 knew? 
 
 Frank answered very humbly that he did not. 
 
 The engineer asked him if he knew, in general, of 
 what use astronomy, or the knowledge of the stars and 
 of their motions, can be to human creatures ? 
 
 Frank had a general idea that astronomy was of use, 
 but he did not know of what use. He knew that Harry 
 Sandford found his way out of the moor by the help of 
 the pole star ; but how, he could not well tell : and he 
 believed that people know whereabouts they are at sea 
 by looking at the stars, by the north pole, and the com- 
 pass. The degrees of latitude on the earth, he was al
 
 FRANK. 313 
 
 most certain, were connected with the great circle called 
 the ecliptic, but he did not know how. 
 
 Here Frank felt so much puzzled, and so conscious 
 of his own ignorance, that he stopped short, saying, " I 
 cannot explain myself for I do not understand any thing 
 about these things distinctly : and I am sorry, sir," ad- 
 ded he, "that I began to talk about the ecliptic to Mary, 
 and talk so conceitedly." 
 
 " My dear Frank," said the engineer, " you are a very 
 candid boy ; and as to your little fits of vanity, those 
 will go off when you know more ; and that you will 
 know more I am convinced, because you show such a 
 desire to improve yourself. You worked very hard to 
 make yourself master of summer and winter, and you 
 succeeded. I will mark for you some more passages in 
 your little book of Scientific Dialogues, and in some 
 other books, which I will leave with you ; and if you read 
 these carefully, you will, I hope, before I see you again, 
 comprehend clearly what you now wish to learn. You 
 will understand exactly the use of dividing into degrees 
 that imaginary circle in the heavens called the ecliptic, 
 and you will learn of what use astronomy and trigonom- 
 etry are to man, in sailing upon the sea, and in measur- 
 ing the earth." 
 
 " This is a great deal to learn," said Mary : " will 
 Frank indeed be able to learn all this ?" 
 
 "Yes, I think he will, if he goes on little by little, and 
 steadily ; and if he reads with his kind mother, who is 
 ready to assist him in all difficulties, and who will not 
 let him go on too fast." 
 
 " I will begin," said Frank, " to-morrow, sir, as you 
 shall see." 
 
 " I hope you will, though I shall not see it," said the 
 engineer, " for I am obliged to go away very early in the 
 morning." 
 
 Frank and Mary were sorry, for they were very fond 
 of him. Sensible children always love those who do 
 not flatter them : who open to them new views of 
 knowledge, and who excite them continually to im- 
 prove. 
 
 While they were talking, the servant brought in let- 
 ters. " Here, sir," cried Frank, running to the engineer 
 with his letters, " here are letters for you. Perhaps 
 these may bring good news for us, and that you may 
 find you can stay one other day." , 
 O 27
 
 314 FRANK. 
 
 No, there was nothing in the letters which changed 
 his determination as to going away ; but there was some- 
 thing about his son Lewis, which gave him pleasure. 
 
 " 1 must show this to you, my dear madam," said he, 
 turning to Frank's mother : and he looked very happy 
 as he pointed to the following passage in the letter, 
 which he laid down before her : 
 
 " We have your Lewis with us ; his holydays began 
 last Monday : and glad we are to have him, if you were 
 out of the question ; for a very generous, good-tempered, 
 obliging boy he is, and ever on the watch for informa- 
 tion: a most hopeful disposition." 
 
 " He must be very like Frank," thought Mary. 
 
 The other letter was from the master of the school at 
 which Lewis was. It concluded thus : 
 
 " Your son Lewis did admirably at our last examina- 
 tions. If his brother treads in his footsteps, he cannot 
 fail to be approved by his masters, and loved by his 
 companions." 
 
 " Oh !" thought Frank, " how happy I shall be if my 
 father ever has such a letter about me after I go to 
 school." 
 
 Frank's father and mother asked the engineer to bring 
 his son Lewis with him the next time he should come. 
 
 He promised that he would, for he said that he should 
 be glad that his son and Frank should become acquaint- 
 ed, and he hoped that they would also become friends. 
 
 " HERE is mamma, alone ! and settled at her tambour- 
 frame, Mary ! how happy !" cried Frank. " Now we 
 can talk to her about it as much as we please. Mamma, 
 may I read you this ?" 
 
 " Yes, and welcome, my dear, while I am working ; but 
 I am afraid I shall soon have done. What is the book, 
 my dear?" 
 
 " Mamma, it is a short account of the life of the au- 
 thor." 
 
 " What author, Frank ?" 
 
 " I do not know his name, ma'am, it says only the 
 author of this book 1" 
 
 " What book, my dear?" 
 
 " The book I brought home the other night from the 
 gardener's ; the book from which his son learned how to
 
 PRANK. 315 
 
 make the sundial. Oh, ma'am, do not look into that 
 part, that is too difficult." 
 
 " We cannot understand that," said Mary, " that is 
 about * tables of falling bodies? and terrible things. But 
 it is this ' Short Account of the Life of the Author 1 which 
 Frank is going to read to you, ma'am." 
 
 " Mamma, I will tell you part, and read only what I 
 like best," said Frank. " The beginning tells only that 
 the man was born somewhere, I forget where." 
 
 " He was born in a low station, I know," said Mary; 
 " but I do not recollect exactly where." 
 
 " Well, never mind," continued Frank ; " but you 
 must know that he was at first very poor." 
 
 " He was originally a peasant-boy, mamma, and you 
 shall hear all that he did." 
 
 " But first tell me his name," said Frank's mother. 
 
 " His name, ma'am ; that I really do not know," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " What, not know the name of the man whose life 
 you have been reading !" 
 
 " No, mamma, he never once tells his name in his 
 whole life," said Frank. " You may look it over your- 
 self, mamma, every page. I have looked it over twice." 
 
 " And I too," said Mary, " and I do not think you will 
 find it. It does not tell even the name of his father or 
 mother." 
 
 " Pray look and try if you can find it, mamma," said 
 Frank. 
 
 His mother looked at the title-page, and pointed to 
 the name of the author James Ferguson. 
 
 " You have found it, mamma, after all ! I thought I 
 had looked thoroughly ; but I did not begin at the very 
 beginning, you will say ; next time I really will look 
 even at the title-page. But now let me go on. 
 
 " This James Ferguson's father was very poor, and 
 had a large family, and he was obliged to work all day ; 
 but ' whenever he had any time,' he taught some of his 
 children to read and write. He had not leisure, how- 
 ever, at first, to teach James, and James learned by lis- 
 tening while his father was teaching his elder brother 
 to read his catechism." 
 
 " Now read on here, Frank," said Mary, " lest you 
 should forget to tell about the old woman." 
 
 Frank read what follows from Ferguson's life. 
 
 " ' Ashamed to ask my father to instruct me, I used. 
 3
 
 316 PRANK. 
 
 when he and my brother were abroad, to take the cate- 
 chism and study the lesson which he had been teaching 
 my brother ; and when any difficulty occurred, I went 
 to a neighbouring old woman, who gave me such help 
 as enabled me to read tolerably well before my father 
 had thought of teaching me.' " 
 
 " Dear, good old woman !" said Mary. 
 
 " ' Some time after he was agreeably surprised to find 
 me reading by myself; he thereupon gave me farther 
 instruction, and also taught me to write.' 
 
 " I will miss the grammar school," said Frank, " for I 
 am sure that will not interest you ; but I must go on 
 here. 
 
 " ' My taste for mechanics arose from an odd acci- 
 dent. When about seven or eight years of age, a part 
 of the roof of the house being decayed, my father, de- 
 sirous of mending it, applied a lever to raise it to its 
 former situation ; and to my great astonishment I saw 
 him lift up the ponderous roof as if it had been a small 
 weight. I attributed this at first to a degree of strength, 
 that excited my terror as well as wonder ; but thinking 
 farther of the matter, I recollected that he had applied 
 his strength to that end of the lever which was farthest 
 from the prop ; and finding on inquiry that this was the 
 means by which the seeming wonder was affected, I 
 began making levers, which I then called bars.' " 
 
 Frank's father now came into the room to look for 
 some papers, and stood still to listen to what they were 
 reading. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, " I understand all this as well as 
 the man did ; because we read a great while ago to 
 mamma, in Sandford and Merton, the account of the 
 boys' using the lever to move the great snowball, which 
 they could not roll without it. And that very day you 
 were so good, papa, as to call me to look at one of the 
 workmen, who was using a lever to move a heavy root 
 of a tree. How pleasant it is to find in a book what 
 puts us in mind of things we have seen and heard, and 
 quite understand." 
 
 " Very true," said Mary ; " but now will you go on 
 with the book, Frank, because I want to come to the 
 little knife, and then to the wooden watch." 
 
 " Oh, my dear," said Frank, " don't tell all before- 
 hand. Let me tell of the stars first. 
 
 " ' I was rather too young and weak for hard labour ;
 
 FRANK. 317 
 
 my father put me out to a neighbour to keep sheep, 
 which I continued to do for some years, and in that 
 time I began to study the stars in the night.' 
 
 " How happy he must have been !" said Frank. 
 
 " ' In the daytime I amused myself by making mod- 
 els of mills, spinning-wheels, and such other things as 
 I happened to see.' " 
 
 " I wish, Frank, that you could do the same !" said 
 Mary. 
 
 "Oh, papa, I am sorry you are going away," said 
 Frank ; " cannot you stay while I read about the blanket 
 and the stars V 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot, my dear ; but there is a man 
 waiting for me on business." 
 
 " Then, mamma, I will go on to you. 
 
 " ' I then went to serve a considerable farmer in the 
 neighbourhood, whose name was James Glashan. I 
 found him very kind and indulgent ; but he soon ob- 
 served that, in the evenings when my work was over, I 
 went into the field with a blanket over me, lay down on 
 my back, and stretching a small thread, with small 
 beads upon it, at arm's length, between my eye and the 
 stars, sliding the beads upon it till they hid such and 
 such stars from my eye, in order to take their apparent 
 distances from one another ; and then laying the thread 
 down on a paper, I marked the stars thereon by the 
 beads, according to their respective positions, having a 
 candle by me. My master at first laughed at me ; but 
 when I explained my meaning to him, he encouraged 
 me to go on ; and that I might make fair copies in the 
 daytime of what I had done in the night, he often 
 worked for me himself. 1 shall always have a respect 
 for the memory of that man.' 
 
 " To be sure," said Frank, " or you would have been 
 horribly ungrateful, Mr. James Ferguson. Do you know, 
 mamma, this uncommon master, as he calls him, used 
 often to take the thrashing-flail out of his hands, that he 
 might have time for his pleasant employment." 
 
 Frank's mother joined with him in liking this uncom- 
 mon master very much; but she said "that she had 
 now unfortunately done her work, and that she must go 
 away ; but," added she, " I am glad you have such an 
 entertaining book." 
 
 " But, mamma, it is double entertainment when I am 
 reading it to you, and talking to you about it."
 
 .d PRANK, 
 
 " Frank can go on reading while you are taking you? 
 work out of the frame, may not he, mamma]" said 
 Mary. 
 
 " Very well, then, mamma, let me just tell you," said 
 Frank, " all this Ferguson did when he was a boy ; he 
 made a globe himself out of a block of wood, turned it, 
 finished it in three weeks, covered it with paper, and 
 painted and divided it all rightly ; and, mamma, besides 
 this globe of the earth, and besides I do not know how 
 many little windmills and watermills, he made a wood- 
 en watch that went, mamma ! and " 
 
 " Now comes the great wonder !" said Mary. 
 
 " Hush ! my dear Mary. I must just read to you, 
 mamma," said Frank, " about the gentleman on horse- 
 back showing him a watch for the first time." 
 
 " I should like to hear it very much, my dear," said 
 Frank's mother. " But now I really have other things 
 to do, and I must go." 
 
 Frank pursued her from room to room with the book, 
 reading at every interval when he could be heard. 
 
 " ' I thanked the gentleman, and told him that I un- 
 derstood the thing very well. I then tried to make a 
 watch with wooden wheels, and made the spring of 
 whalebone ; but found that I could not make the watch 
 go when the balance was put on, because ' " 
 
 Frank skipped the cause, which he thought either too 
 difficult for his mother or himself to understand, and he 
 went on 
 
 '"I enclosed the whole in a wooden case, very little 
 bigger than a breakfast teacup.' " 
 
 " Oh ! now comes the misfortune !" cried Mary. 
 
 By this time Frank had followed his mother without 
 well knowing where, through bedchamber, and dressing- 
 room, and passage, till at last she was at the head of the 
 back staircase, and he saw her descending. 
 
 "Where are you going now, mamma V 
 
 " Down stairs to the housekeeper's-room, my dear," 
 said she. 
 
 " May we come with you, mammal" 
 
 " No, my dear, certainly not ; I cannot listen to you 
 and to Mrs. Catharine at the same time." 
 
 " Well, then, I will finish the misfortune for you as 
 you go down stairs, ma'am." He read on as loud and 
 fast as he could 
 
 " ' A clumsy neighbour one day looking at my watch,
 
 FRANK. 319 
 
 happened to let it fall, and, turning hastily to pick it up, 
 set his foot upon it and crushed it all to pieces, which 
 so provoked my father that he was almost ready to beat 
 the man ; and this discouraged me so much that I never 
 attempted to make such another machine again, espe- 
 cially as I was thoroughly convinced I could never 
 make one that would be of any real use.' " 
 
 " But mamma is quite out of hearing, Frank," said 
 Mary. " What a pity to have wasted all that, as she 
 was going down stairs !" 
 
 " True, 1 will keep the rest for her dressing time," 
 said Frank. 
 
 At her dressing time Frank appeared again before his 
 mother, with the same book in his hand ; he read to her 
 again the account of the breaking of the wooden watch, 
 and had reason to be satisfied with her pity for the boy; 
 but he was not quite contented, because she agreed 
 with Ferguson in being thoroughly convinced that he 
 could never make a watch that would be of any real 
 use. 
 
 Frank had formed an intention of attempting to make 
 such a watch, and had seen a bit of whalebone among 
 Mrs. Catharine's treasures which he thought would do 
 for the spring. 
 
 " Now, my dear Frank," said his mother, " all this 
 is very entertaining and ingenious; but we must not 
 neglect other things : I am ready to look at the ' Stream 
 of Tinle' with you, and to hear you read the Grecian 
 history." ^i 
 
 Frank looked at the " Stream of Time" with fixed 
 eyes, without well knowing what he saw or what he 
 heard from his mother, which she observing, rolled up 
 the chart ; and Frank then opened the Grecian history, 
 reading so fast that it was clear he wanted only to get 
 it over ; he even hurried and stumbled when he came 
 to what he loved most Leonidas in the straits. 
 
 " My dear Frank," said his mother, " you had better 
 put down the book, and empty your head quite of Mr. 
 Ferguson before you go on with Leonidas." 
 . Frank put down the book, and said, 
 
 " Thank you, mamma ; I am thinking that I wish 
 I had been bora a peasant-boy, like Ferguson, that I 
 might have learned every thing by myself, as he did, in 
 a wonderful way, and that I might have surprised every- 
 body : how happy he must have been ! He taught him-
 
 320 
 
 FRANK. 
 
 self vulgar arithmetic : mamma, what is vulgar arith- 
 metic 1" 
 
 " Common arithmetic, my dear." 
 
 " What ! addition, multiplication, subtraction, and di- 
 vision, which we have learned T" said Frank. " But 
 then, mamma, it is no great glory to us to have learned 
 these things : now it was wonderful for him ; and he 
 was so happy, working through all his difficulties. Oh, 
 mother ! I wish I was what is called in the book a self- 
 taught genius." 
 
 " My dear," replied his mother, laughing, " since you 
 cannot be a self-taught genius now, you had better con- 
 tent yourself with being, if you can, a well-taught ge- 
 nius." 
 
 " That I shall be, certainly," said Frank, " because 
 you and papa teach me, and 1 am sure I am very much 
 obliged to you." But still Frank looked not quite happy. 
 
 " To comfort you, Frank," said his mother, " 1 can 
 tell you that I do not believe one in ten of these self- 
 taught persons ever distinguish themselves in the world, 
 or excite that wonder, or obtain that glory, of which 
 you are so desirous." 
 
 " But, mamma, I might have been that one in ten." 
 
 " True, my dear, after struggling through great diffi- 
 culties." 
 
 " But that is what I should have liked of all things, 
 mamma." 
 
 " Yet you do not seem to me particularly to like even 
 the little difficulties you do meet with," said his mother. 
 
 " What do you mean, mamma !" 
 
 " Don't you remember," said Mary, " Latin grammar 
 for one thing, and sums in division of pounds, shillings, 
 and pence V 
 
 " But, my dear, those are not at all the sort of diffi- 
 culties I mean." 
 
 " And yet," said his mother, " those are some of the 
 difficulties which your self-taught boy must have gone 
 through, before he became master of arithmetic, and a 
 Latin scholar, must not he V* 
 
 " True : yes ; I did not think of that," said Frank. 
 
 " Besides, the self-taught genius has another disad- 
 vantage," said his mother. " Often, for want of friends 
 and books to tell him what has been done, he wastes 
 his time and ingenuity in inventing what others have 
 invented before him.'*
 
 FRANK, 321 
 
 ** That is true," said Frank. " I remember Ferguson 
 thought he was the first person who had ever discovered 
 the use of a lever, and a wedge, and a screw: and wrote 
 a book about them ; and was very much surprised and 
 disappointed to find that nothing that he had written 
 was new to anybody." 
 
 " Yes, poor man," said Mary. " Now you can't 
 make such a mistake, Frank, for you have friends and 
 books." 
 
 " Now that you have emptied your head, Frank," said 
 his mother, " let us go on with the Grecian history." 
 
 Frank now read with attention. When the business 
 of the day was finished, he returned to his projects. 
 His first project was to make a globe, such as Ferguson 
 had made ; and he would have it all painted and divided 
 in right circles, and ready, he said, by the time the en- 
 gineer should come back, and this would surprise him 
 delightfully. 
 
 Frank recollected to have seen, behind some rubbish 
 in the backyard, a stone ball which had once stood on 
 the top of the pier of an old gate. He asked his father 
 if he might have this ; and his father told him that he 
 might, but that he could not guess what use he could 
 make of it. 
 
 " So much the better," thought Frank. 
 
 With the help of levers Frank rolled the ball happily 
 home ; and next it was to be cleaned, for it was covered 
 with green stains and spots of thick brown moss. The 
 moss was scraped off by Mary with an oyster-shell, but 
 the stains could not be removed. Frank determined to 
 cover it with paper, through which he thought that they 
 would not be seen. But it was no easy matter to cover 
 it : Mary cut paper in all forms, and pasted and pasted, 
 and it crinkled and crinkled, and it never would lie 
 smooth on the stone, nor would the quarters (as Frank 
 called them), the gores (as Mary called them), join 
 rightly. 
 
 " Oh, Frank! it never, never will do," said Mary, af- 
 ter she had pasted at it till she was quite tired. 
 
 Frank gave up the stone ball ; he had just thought of 
 something much better. This was a windmill, which, 
 as Mary observed, would be useful to stick up in the 
 garden to frighten away the birds. Frank had carpen- 
 ter's tools, and had been used to work with them ! and 
 he had wood, and nails, and all he wanted for his wind- 
 O3
 
 322 
 
 FRANK. 
 
 mill: he persevered, and really did make what the 
 gardener called a whirligig : and it was put up in the gar- 
 den, and frightened away the birds from one cherry-tree 
 for a whole day ; but the next day something was amiss 
 with it ; the gardener said one of the vanes, or leaves of 
 the mill had dropped out, and, in short, it fell to pieces. 
 But still as one scheme failed, another rose in Frank's 
 imagination ; and he went on from one to another, 
 pleased always with the last new idea, yet finishing 
 few ; for some he found impossible, some not sufficiently 
 surprising, and almost all were too tiresome, he said, to 
 be worth completing. But at last he found a new grand 
 project of an orrery, a machine, as he told Mary, by 
 which, with the help of little balls representing the 
 earth, sun, moon, and stars, he could show the motions 
 of all the heavenly bodies. It was a bold undertaking, 
 especially as he did not yet know half their motions . 
 but these he could learn, he thought, as he went on with 
 his work, because there was a description and an en- 
 graving of an orrery in his dear Mr. Ferguson's book ; 
 Frank prevailed upon his mother to lend him her round 
 tambour-frame, in which, luckily, there was no work ; 
 he assured her that he would neither break nor injure it 
 in any way ; and she was willing to trust him, because 
 he was always very careful of what he promised not to 
 spoil. 
 
 " My dear Frank," said she, " I am glad you amuse 
 yourself: and you will soon find out, by your own ex- 
 perience, what you can, and what you cannot do : but 
 you now give up too much time to these amusements ; 
 you neglect and forget all that you had resolved to do 
 and to learn of more useful things." 
 
 Mary's eye turned consciously towards the " Stream 
 of Time." She recollected, and so did Frank, that it 
 had been quite disregarded while he had been making 
 the whirligig, and endeavouring to make the globes : 
 the Roman history, and the Grecian, and Scientific Dia- 
 logues too, with the marked passages that were to have 
 been studied before the return of the engineer all these 
 had been neglected. His lessons in writing, in arith- 
 metic, had been ill attended to : the lists of the must 
 wants and may wants of man and woman had been 
 quite forgotten ; in short, he had been so much devoted 
 to his new schemes, that he had had no time,no thought 
 for any thing else,
 
 FRANK. 323 
 
 11 It is all very true, mamma," said he : " but if you will 
 only be so good as to lend me the tambour-frame, I 
 will do all that I have resolved to do in time, and my 
 project also." 
 
 And he resolved that he would only work at his or- 
 rery every day after he should have finished all more 
 useful things. To this resolution he kept for three 
 days ; but he told Mary that he found his head was al- 
 ways running upon his orrery, therefore he thought it 
 best to finish that as soon as possible, and then he should 
 be able to attend to better things. 
 
 All day, except during the time when Mary was occu- 
 pied with her lessons and her needlework, she was as- 
 sisting Frank. She had been working some tent-stitch 
 for the covering of a stool ; and Frank borrowed from 
 her several balls of various coloured worsteds, which 
 he saw in her basket; and he employed her in winding 
 and unwinding these, making some larger, some small- 
 er, to bring them, as he said, to the proper sizes, to rep- 
 resent the earth, sun, moon, and planets. How these 
 were to be fixed, or made to turn, on long hat pins, or 
 to be pulled or pushed round on circles of cap wire, with, 
 which his friend Mrs. Catharine had furnished him from 
 her never-failing stores, we pretend not to describe, nor 
 are we quite sure that Frank himself understood. All 
 we know is, that the evening came, and found Frank 
 surrounded with tangled balls of worsted, some fastened 
 on their pins, and on their circles, to the tambour-frame ; 
 but several of the planets rolling about the room, uncer- 
 tain of their destination. Meantime Frank's fingers 
 were pricked and scratched in every direction, and the 
 inside of Mary's were died with streaks of red, blue, 
 green, from the winding of the worsted worlds. Mary's 
 patience never failed when she was assisting Frank ; 
 or, more difficult still, when she was reduced merely to 
 standing by to look on at his work : she now refrained 
 from making any noises of pity when things went wrong ; 
 and after he begged her not, she never once repeated, 
 " Indeed, Frank, it never will do." 
 
 But still it never would do ; and Frank, perplexed and 
 disappointed, was forced at last to go to bed. His 
 mother, wondering what he had been doing all day, 
 gravely said to him when he wished her good night, 
 
 " Frank, you have not this day done any one of those 
 useful things you had intended to do."
 
 324 FRANK. 
 
 " No, mamma," said Frank , " but I hare been doing 
 a very ingenious thing ; exceedingly ingenious, mam- 
 ma." 
 
 FRANK, we believe, was up before the lark in the 
 morning, and he was obliged to work alone, for Mary 
 could not come to him before breakfast. He was inde- 
 fatigable in pulling to pieces and putting together again, 
 changing and repairing, coaxing and bungling, till at last 
 Mary knocked at the door. 
 
 " What is the matter, Mary ?" cried Frank, going to 
 the door. 
 
 " Matter !" said Mary : " why, what are you about, 
 my dear ? It is just breakfast time ; papa is calling for 
 you." 
 
 " My dear," said Frank, " is it possible ? I thought I 
 had an hour to come !" 
 
 " Well, well ; run down now and say your Latin." 
 
 " Say it ! oh, Mary !" cried Frank, clasping his hands, 
 " do you know I forgot to learn it ; I thought I should 
 have time : oh, what shall I do?" 
 
 " What shall we do, indeed !" said Mary, struck with 
 the greatness of the immediate danger. 
 
 " Oh, my resolution ! what will become of me !" cried 
 Frank. " Oh, disgrace !" 
 
 " Do not think of the disgrace, or of any thing, but 
 take the grammar and learn it as fast as ever you can : 
 you will have time while papa is at breakfast; you 
 know he has the newspaper to read before he rings for 
 the horses." 
 
 " Horses ! oh, I don't mind about the horses." 
 
 "Well, never mind what you do not mind," cried 
 Mary, speaking as fast as the words could come out of 
 her mouth. " Here's the book here's the place : take 
 care, your feet are in a tangle of worsted." 
 
 " Oh, my sun and moon ! Mary ! Mary !" 
 
 " Never mind them, never mind them : come quite 
 away out of the room : sit down here on this stair, and 
 I will set beside you to hear it when you are ready." 
 
 " Thank you. But no, no, I cannot get it while I am 
 thinking that you are losing your breakfast." 
 
 " Never mind my breakfast, my dear." 
 
 " No, no Mary, do not stay, or it's all over with me ; I 
 cannot get it if you stay."
 
 FRANK. 325 
 
 " Then I will go I'm gone," said Mary, running 
 down stairs as quick as lightning. 
 
 " Mary," said Frank, calling to her over the banisters, 
 " do not say a word about my orrery, or you will spoil 
 the surprise." 
 
 " But what shall I say when papa and mamma ask 
 me for you and your Latin 1" 
 
 " The truth, to be sure that 1 forgot it." 
 
 " A pretty thing to say," thought Mary, slackening 
 her pace as she crossed the hall. 
 
 Frank had, by his regular practice for months past, 
 acquired the power of turning his attention at once full 
 and strong upon these Latin lessons, and he had learned 
 to get by heart readily. He gave his soul to it, and he 
 did learn this lesson now, in his utmost need, in a sur- 
 prisingly short time. 
 
 " Quick, indeed !" thought Mary, as he entered the 
 breakfast-room : " but I am afraid not well." 
 
 She was frightened for him when he laid the book 
 confidently before his father : and while he was saying 
 it, she sat with the untasted toast in her hand. Frank 
 got through it all. 
 
 " Without missing one word !" said Mary, exultingly. 
 
 Frank now took breath, and relieved himself by a good 
 stretching of both arms. He had not yet sufficiently 
 recovered from the agitation into which he had been 
 thrown, to begin to boast or triumph in his escape : he 
 sat down to eat his breakfast, and did not even observe, 
 till he had half done, the unusual silence of both his 
 father and mother. But his father might be silent be- 
 cause he was deep in the newspaper, Frank thought; 
 and his mother might be silent because she was intent 
 upon her work. 
 
 Frank, now primed by his breakfast, began a little 
 boasting to Mary. 
 
 " Did not I get it quickly, Mary 1 and well, too V 
 
 " Yes ; but I hope you never will do so again," said 
 Mary. 
 
 " What ! not get my lesson quickly and well ?" said 
 Frank, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, Frank !" said Mary, " how soon you forget dan- 
 ger." 
 
 " Because I am a man, my dear ; but you need not 
 look so melancholy, Mary; I am only joking now, because 
 I am happily over the danger ; but, seriously, I will never 
 28
 
 326 FRANK. 
 
 do so again : I was near losing all ; but it's over now. 
 Had not I better ring for the horses now V 
 
 " No, Frank," said his mother, in a tone which some- 
 what checked Frank's rising spirits. Laying aside the 
 newspaper, his father asked him what could have at- 
 tempted him to run this chance of " losing all ;" and 
 how it had happened that he could have forgotten to 
 learn his lesson till so late. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, " will you be so good as not to 
 ask me, because I do not wish to tell you yet what I am 
 about: I want to surprise you with something that I 
 know you will like." . 
 
 " You were very near surprising me with something 
 that I should have disliked," said his father. " I would 
 rather, Frank, as your father and friend, much rather, 
 that you had the power of keeping to your resolutions, 
 than that yon made the most ingenious thing that ever 
 was thought of by a boy of your age." 
 
 " But 1 thought you liked ingenuity so very much, 
 papa 1" 
 
 " I like ingenuity much, but resolution more." 
 
 " So do I," said his mother. " I have known an in- 
 genious, a very ingenious man, who, for want of resolu- 
 tion to do that which he intended, never finished during 
 his whole life any one of the many ingenious things he 
 had begun ; and from the same want of resolution broke 
 all his promises, ruined himself and his whole family, 
 lived in misery, and died in disgrace." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! what a shocking picture!" 
 
 " What a shocking reality !" said his father. 
 
 " But, mamma," said Mary, " you need not be afraid 
 of Frank's wanting resolution ; only look at his hands," 
 said she, opening one of Frank's passive hands, and 
 showing the wounds which had been made by the pins 
 and wires. Frank drew brack his hand as if ashamed 
 to claim pity for such trifling hurts. 
 
 " My dear Mary, that is nothing ; they do not give me 
 any pain." 
 
 " But they did give him pain yesterday," persisted 
 Mary : " and all day he worked on, mamma, never 
 minding, even when the wounds were ever so much 
 hurt by the worsted." 
 
 " Oh, hush, Mary !" cried Frank : " do not say worsted, 
 you will tell all." 
 
 " But, mamma, surely he did not fly about from one
 
 FRANK. 327 
 
 thing to another yesterday," said Mary ; " he stuck to 
 I must not tell you what, all day long, and was at it very, 
 very early this morning, and it was his eagerness to 
 finish one thing, ma'am, that made him forget every thing 
 else in the world, and almost brought him -to " 
 
 " Don't say disgrace," interrupted Frank ; " I cannot 
 bear that word." 
 
 " It is rather hard, I allow, Mary," said his mother, 
 " to reproach poor Frank at the same moment with two 
 seemingly opposite faults, with his not finishing any 
 thing, and with his being too eager to finish one thing. 
 But there is a fault with which I can never reproach 
 him want of candour." 
 
 Frank's countenance brightened, and he looked up 
 full in his mother's eyes, grateful, and conscious that he 
 deserved this. 
 
 "Therefore I need only appeal to himself: he knows 
 whether I accuse him justly or unjustly, when I say 
 that though he is all eagerness about a new thing, and 
 perhaps intent upon completing a favourite project, yet 
 for this he neglects and forgets what he had formerly 
 intended: then some new fancy comes, and he sweeps 
 away the old one all unfinished." 
 
 " True, mamma, till yesterday ; quite true of all but 
 my last project : I did certainly stick to my last." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, because it was your last," said his 
 mother : " however, I will not be hard upon you ; one 
 day is a long trial for a boy of your age." 
 
 " And a great piece of this morning," said Frank, " rec- 
 ollect, mamma; and I would willingly go on all day 
 to-day, if I might ; but then you would say I did not 
 keep my resolutions about attending to the useful things : 
 so what can I do ?" 
 
 "Cannot you abide by the determination you once 
 made, to do the useful things, as you probably call them, 
 first, and at fixed hours, which is the surest way of doing 
 them regularly, and then divert yourself as you please 
 afterward, with your new or old projects ?" 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " may I say one thing 1 ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said his mother, smiling ; " but you 
 have said so many already that this question seems un- 
 necessary." 
 
 " Only make haste," said his father, " for this is grow- 
 ing rather long, and I have much to do." 
 
 " Only, papa, only, mamma," looking first at one and
 
 328 FRANK. 
 
 then at the other, " I think what I am doing up stairs, 
 my last project, is really as useful as any of those which 
 you call useful things, because it has a great deal to do 
 with astronomy, and is fully as grand as any thing in 
 Scientific Dialogues." 
 
 " Possibly, my dear," said his father ; " but you know 
 of this we cannot judge till we see it." 
 
 " Then," said Frank, making a great effort over him- 
 self, " 1 will give you the surprise, and you shall see it : 
 Mary, come with me, and we will bring it down." 
 
 Frank ran up stairs, and returned, carrying into the 
 room his mother's round tambour-frame, with its two 
 circular rims set in opposite directions, and hung round 
 with divers balls of many-coloured worsteds, stuck with 
 pins and circles in an indescribable manner. Mary fol- 
 lowed, holding the trains of the many-coloured balls; 
 and Frank looked back to beg her not to entangle the 
 tails of his planets. 
 
 " What have we here ?" said his father. 
 
 " My orrery, father," said Frank, setting it on the 
 table before him, with such a sense of importance that 
 his father could hardly refrain from laughing. How- 
 ever, Frank did not see this ; his father kindly struggled 
 to keep the corners of his mouth in order \ and his 
 mother looked on in silence, while Frank proceeded to 
 point out his worsted earth, sun, moon, and planets : 
 that they were some of them far from moving rightly 
 in, or on, or off their wiry orbits, Frank candidly ac- 
 knowledged. 
 
 " But now, papa, is not it worth finishing 1 ?" 
 
 " An orrery, sir," said Mary, to whom the word was 
 not yet quite familiar, and sounded very grand ; " an 
 orrery, sir ! Only think, mamma, of that! all made by 
 himself, at his age ! when, as he told me yesterday, even 
 
 Mr. , the man in the book, did not make an orrery 
 
 till he was a great many years older ! Worth finish- 
 ing! my dear Frank; to be sure papa will think it 
 worth finishing : don't you, papa ?" 
 
 " If it were possible to finish it," said his father. 
 
 Nothing appeared to Frank more easy, till his father 
 pointed out the defects, the deficiencies, the mistakes 
 in one word, the absurdities; but he did not use that 
 offensive word; he was tender of Frank's feelings for 
 his wasted work. His father, he saw, understood and 
 commended every part that was ingenious, but lament-
 
 FRANK. 329 
 
 ed that so much ingenuity had been used in vain. To 
 finish it, to make any part of it exact or useful, to make 
 it any thing but a child's bungling, falling-to-pieces toy, 
 it would, as candid Frank was soon made to perceive, 
 be necessary to possess a knowledge of astronomy 
 which he had not yet acquired. But still Frank urged, 
 that though he did not know such and such necessary 
 things, yet he knew where to find them in Scientific 
 Dialogues, or in Mr. Ferguson's own receipt, as he 
 called it, for making an orrery. Frank ran for the book, 
 to show and consult his father ; and though his father 
 was in a hurry to be gone, he stayed to enter into the 
 schemes and counsels of his little son. Mary crept 
 close to him, for she loved him very much. 
 
 " Well, papa," said she, " what is your advice to 
 Frank?" 
 
 " My first advice to you, Frank," said his father, 
 " and indeed the condition upon which I now stay and 
 give up my time to you, is, that you abide steadily by 
 whatever resolution you now make, either quite to 
 finish it, or quite to give up this orrery. If you choose 
 to finish it, you must give up, for sometime, reading 
 any thing entertaining or instructive ; you must give up 
 arithmetic and history." 
 
 " And the Stream of Time, and the lists^' said Mary. 
 
 " Every thing," said his father, " to this one object of 
 making an orrery; and when made, as well as you pos- 
 sibly could with my assistance, make it, observe, your 
 orrery will only be what others have made repeatedly 
 before. It is not an invention that will surprise any- 
 body that has sense or knowledge ; and to surprise 
 ignorant people or fools, I suppose, you would disdain. 
 It might, perhaps, be a wonder that Master Frank made 
 it at Master Frank's age ; but then Master Frank will 
 grow older, and when, or how, or why he made this 
 orrery, few, when he grows to be a man, will know or 
 care : but ail will see whether he has the knowledge 
 which is necessary for a man and a gentleman to pos- 
 sess. Now choose, Frank." 
 
 " Father," said Frank, " I choose to give up the or- 
 rery, since I cannot finish it now, without giving up 
 every thing else." 
 
 As he spoke, Frank seized his orrery. " Mary, bring 
 your work-basket, my dear," said he. 
 
 And she brought it ; and he pulled off, one by one, de- 
 28*
 
 330 FRANK. 
 
 liberately, the worsted sun, moon, earth, and stars, and 
 threw them into the basket which Mary held. Mary 
 sighed, but Frank did not sigh. He was proud to give 
 his father a proof of his resolution : and when he looked 
 round, he saw tears, but they were tears of pleasure, in 
 his mother's eyes. His father shook hands with him, 
 and said, 
 
 " This gives me pleasure, Frank ; this pays me for 
 giving up my time to you." 
 
 " But you are not sure yet, papa," said Frank to his 
 father, who was leaving the room, " that I shall keep 
 to my good resolutions." 
 
 " I am not quite sure ; but this is a good beginning," 
 said his father, looking back with a smile, which de- 
 lighted Mary ; " and Mary knows that a good beginning 
 makes a good ending." 
 
 " It shall," said Frank : " therefore, mamma, before I 
 stir from this spot, let us settle what things are most 
 necessary for me to do every day, and what hours will 
 be most convenient to you, and best for me to do them 
 in." 
 
 Willingly his mother assisted him in making this ar- 
 rangement of his time. The feelings of this moment 
 would have inclined him to do too much, and to fix 
 upon too many hours for useful studies ; but his mother 
 advised him to attempt little, and engage but for few, 
 that he might be more likely to keep to his intentions. 
 
 During the whole of the following month Frank 
 never failed in being punctual to his appointed hours ; 
 but it must be owned that he owed much to Mary, his 
 dear good little friend, who always reminded him at the 
 right hour and minute of what was to be done. Frank 
 often found it difficult to obey her summons, especially 
 once when he was dusting and repairing Mrs. Catha- 
 rine's cuckoo clock ; but he conquered himself, and at 
 the appointed hours he did all that he intended to do. 
 
 To his surprise, he found that he had afterward 
 more time than usual, or that he enjoyed his leisure 
 more. He returned at intervals with greater pleasure 
 to the cuckoo clock, and succeeded in setting it going 
 again, entirely to his own and to Mrs. Catharine's sat- 
 isfaction ; for, as all who may doubt the possibility of 
 this fact should be informed, there was nothing the 
 matter with it but that it had been clogged with the 
 dust of years. Mary trembled for him on the last day
 
 FRANK. 331 
 
 of the month, when, just at the appointed time for his 
 sum in the rule of three, he longed to stay to hear the 
 cuckoo clock, which, as he observed to Mary, wanted 
 but five minutes of cuckooing ; but he took her advice, 
 and kept his good resolutions. 
 
 LATE one morning a servant came into the room, and 
 whispered to Frank, "There is a person wants to 
 speak to you, Master Frank, at the gate." 
 
 " To me at the gate .'" repeated Frank. " I wonder 
 who it is, and why does not he come to the door 1 Do 
 you know who the person is, James ?" 
 
 " I do, sir, but I was desired only to say a person, 
 sir," answered the servant. 
 
 " It must be Master Tom," said Mary. 
 
 *' Or Squire Rogers," said Frank. 
 
 " Go and see who it is, my dear," said his father. 
 
 " But I wish you would come with me, papa," said 
 Frank ; " for perhaps it is to ask me to do something that 
 I cannot do I mean that I should not do." 
 
 " And what then?" said his father. "You have tried 
 and found that you can say no when it is necessary, 
 without having me at your back." 
 
 " Certainly," said Frank, and away he ran. 
 
 He stayed some time, and he returned, looking as if 
 he had done something important. " You are right, 
 Mary; it was Tom." 
 
 " And what did he want T" 
 
 " He wanted me to lend him Felix." 
 
 " And did you V said his father, mother, and Mary. 
 
 "You shall hear, papa; you shall hear, mamma; 
 Mary, you will find I have done right." 
 
 " I do not doubt it," said Mary. 
 
 " I hope so," 'said his mother. 
 
 " Let us hear," said his father. 
 
 " When I went to the back gate," said Frank, " there 
 I saw Tom in the greatest distress." 
 
 " Say what distress, plainly." 
 
 " Why, sir, on a horse in such a condition ! oh ! as I 
 never saw, as never was seen in this world before ! 
 Such a condition! Mamma, its knees were cut and 
 bleeding, and its sides frothing ; and it looked dreadfully 
 hot, as if it had been dragged through the river. It
 
 332 PRANK. 
 
 stood stiff with one leg out before, and both far out 
 behind, and its head poking, like the bad horses you 
 used to cut out in paper, Mary : it could not go on. 
 Tom declared he could not make it stir a foot farther ; 
 and to prove this to me, he said he would give him a cut 
 with his whip if I pleased." 
 
 " But you did not please, I am sure," said Mary. 
 
 " Certainly not. I begged Tom would not ; 1 told 
 him I believed him. But he said the horse was an ob- 
 stinate brute, and he did give him one slash." 
 
 " Oh !" cried Mary. 
 
 "The poor horse never stirred: Tom said his arm 
 was tired beating him on, and that, he must go on beat- 
 ing him all the way, for I forget how many miles, if I 
 did not lend him Felix to carry him home. So I lent 
 him Felix, and I hope I did not do wrong." 
 
 " No ! my dear, generous boy," said his mother. 
 
 " Wrong, no, Frank, I am glad you did what was 
 good-natured," said his father. " Besides, Felix is your 
 own horse, and you had a right to lend it or not, as you 
 please. But is Felix gone ]" 
 
 " Off, papa !" 
 
 " 1 wish I had known of this, and I would have lent 
 Mr. Tom a horse less valuable than yours ; he is not fit 
 to be trusted with a good one." 
 
 " I hope he will not hurt Felix," said Mary. 
 
 " No," said Frank, " I think Tom will really ride him 
 gently, because he promised me. So I am almost sure 
 he will, mamma ; do not you think he will when he 
 promised upon his word and honour 1" 
 
 " I should be quite sure you would, Frank," said his 
 father, " if you promised, whether you said upon your 
 word and honour or not; but I cannot feel so sure about 
 Master Tom's truth." 
 
 Frank and Mary looked at one another, recollecting 
 at this moment what had happened about swinging on a 
 gate. 
 
 " I did not recollect that,' 1 ' 1 said Frank. " But per- 
 haps he did not promise that time ; I never thought of 
 doubting him." 
 
 " So much the better," said his father. " I should be 
 very sorry you were suspicious. You did what was 
 right, and what was humane ; and I hope you will not 
 suffer for it." 
 
 " I hope Felix will not suffer for it," said Frank. " I
 
 PRANK. 333 
 
 wish I had thought of coming back to tell papa, and to 
 ask him for a worse horse. But one cannot think of 
 every thing." 
 
 " Now, papa, you see that Frank was right in wishing 
 you to go with him at first," said Mary, " for you 
 would have thought of that for him." 
 
 " But, my dear Mary, it does Frank much more good 
 to think for himself, than to be saved from making little 
 mistakes by my thinking for him. Besides, though he 
 did not do, perhaps, what was most prudent, I like him 
 the better for not being selfish. If Master Tom deceives 
 him, that is Master Tom's fault, not Frank's." 
 
 " There's no danger, I think," said Frank ; " you will 
 see Felix will come back safe to-morrow." 
 
 To-morrow came, and no Felix ; but a groom brought 
 
 a note to Frank from Mrs. J . The note began with 
 
 many compliments, " and thousands of thanks, and a 
 million of regrets but Felix had met with a little ac- 
 cident ; he had fallen down on the road, as Tom was 
 trotting him quite gently ; Tom was fortunately unhurt ; 
 but the horse by the fall had strained his shoulder ; the 
 hurt, however, was very slight, it would be almost well, 
 probably, to-morrow ; but it would be best, however, not 
 to think of stirring him till the strain should be quite 
 got over, because a strain is an awkward thing." 
 
 Frank looked blank, and Mary was almost as sorry as 
 he was. His father desired to see the groom, and ques- 
 tioned him about the horse, and how the accident had 
 happened. The groom, who had been with Master 
 Tom at the time of the fall, said exactly the same as 
 the note ; ending with the same words ; " that it would 
 be best not to think of stirring him till the strain should 
 be quite got over, because a strain is an awkward 
 thing." 
 
 After Frank's first sorrow and disappointment at not 
 seeing his horse were over, he said, that since Tom 
 was trotting gently, he did what he promised, and that 
 he was not to blame for the horse's falling. Mary said 
 she was glad it had never fallen when Frank was 
 riding him. She supposed that was because Frank rode 
 better than Master Tom. 
 
 Tom's horse, which had been well rubbed down and 
 taken care of, was by this time rested, and able to move 
 
 again ; and he was taken back by Mrs. J 's groom, 
 
 who, as he went off, said he would take the greatest
 
 334 FRANK. 
 
 care of Felix, if he was left with him a few days 
 longer. But Frank's father thought it best to bring the 
 horse home directly ; and as soon as the groom was 
 gone, he asked Frank if he could walk with him four 
 miles and back again, to see Felix ? 
 
 " With you ! Oh yes, papa ; four miles ! five ! six ! 
 ten miles and back again, 1 am sure I could." 
 
 " Well, four miles will do for the present business." 
 
 There was a way across the fields and through lanes, 
 
 by which they walked to Mr. J 's. They arrived 
 
 unexpectedly, and Tom, who first met them, looked 
 guilty, and spoke in a very confused, embarrassed man- 
 ner. But he recovered himself when his- friend the 
 groom appeared, who spoke for him very fast. Frank's 
 father said nothing, but that he wished to see the horse, 
 which was at last brought out of the stable : it was 
 very lame. 
 
 "Poor Felix! poor fellow! my poor Felix!" said 
 Frank. 
 
 Felix, the moment he saw Frank and heard his voice, 
 tried to quicken his pace towards his master. The 
 groom led him on to the grass-plot before the door, to 
 show how well he could walk : but he seemed to step 
 with so much pain that Frank called to beg he would 
 stop. His father began to examine the shoulder, and 
 found the hurt much more serious than it had been 
 described. The farrier, to whom the groom had con- 
 stantly referred, now joined them, and while the groom 
 and farrier were talking to his father on one side of the 
 horse, Frank on the other side leaned his face against 
 Felix, trying to keep in his tears not unseen by Tom, 
 who, coming close to him, muttered 
 
 " Crying ! what good crying ! Crying for a horse ! 
 That's too bad !" 
 
 " And if I were," said Frank, looking up, " and for a 
 horse too, it is not so bad as being cruel to a horse, or 
 to any thing !" 
 
 Surprised by the indignation that flashed from Frank's 
 little eyes, through his tears, and alarmed by the strong 
 and loud emphasis upon cruel, Tom answered only, 
 
 "Hush! hush! Who's cruel! I was only joking. 
 Nobody's cruel ! I'm very sorry. Everybody's very 
 sorry. Here's my mother." 
 
 His mother came out, " so sorry, so very, very sorry !" 
 She said she was " so shocked, so anxious about poor
 
 PRANK. 335 
 
 dear Master Frank's horse ; for if it had been anybody 
 else's, she should not have been half so shocked ;" and 
 as she spoke she would have wiped away a fly from Fe- 
 lix's forehead with her embroidered pocket-handker- 
 chief; but Felix did not like it, and she started back, 
 exclaiming, 
 
 " Oh, Master Frank, take care, the brute will tread on 
 your foot !" 
 
 " No danger," said Frank. 
 
 " So cool ! quite a little hero. I so admire his taking 
 it all so coolly. But you have no idea what Tom has 
 suffered. But Tom never can speak when he feels ; he 
 was stamping about last night, and crying !" 
 
 " Crying ! was he," said Frank. " Crying for a 
 horse, too ! !" 
 
 " And why not, love ! a person who has any humani- 
 ty, any sensibility ! and such a sweet horse ! I could 
 have cried myself, I am sure. Why should you think 
 it extraordinary that Tom should cry for a horse ?" 
 
 " Do you hear what the farrier is saying about Felix V 
 said Tom ; and Frank immediately went to listen to 
 him. 
 
 The farrier was prophesying and promising that Fe- 
 lix should be well and sound as ever, soon, if he was 
 but left to his care ; and the groom and he went on talk- 
 ing of potions and lotions, and washes and mashes, and 
 a number of things which Frank did not understand ; 
 but all the time kept close to his father, repeating in a 
 low voice, "Oh! do take him home, papa. Do let me 
 take him home, papa." 
 
 Right glad was Frank when he heard his father order 
 that the bridle should be put on Felix, and say that he 
 would take him home directly. The groom declared 
 that no man that ever wore spurs could get the horse 
 to go four miles with that shoulder in two hours. 
 
 " So you will never be home in time for dinner," said 
 Tom. 
 
 " And mamma will be angry," said Mrs. J . 
 
 " No, ma'am, mamma will not be angry, begging your 
 pardon," said Frank. " She is never angry about those 
 things, and papa will not care about dinner. May I go 
 on, papal" 
 
 " Then my groom must lead him," said Mrs. J . 
 
 " No, no, papa, pray let me lead him." 
 
 His father said that he might, and put the bridle into
 
 336 FRANK. 
 
 his hand, saying, that they should return the same way 
 that they came, in which there were no difficulties, no 
 stiles, no ditches, and only two gates, which the farmers 
 would open. 
 
 " Come along, Felix," cried Frank. 
 
 " But, my dear sir," added Mrs. J , joining her re- 
 monstrances to those of the groom and farrier, " you 
 would not let Master Frank lead the horse himself! 
 Oh ! pray let my groom : if anybody meets you, how 
 odd they will think it. If anybody sees him, what will 
 they say ?" 
 
 " I do not mind what they say," said Frank. " I do 
 not care who sees me ; there is nothing wrong in my 
 leading Felix. No, no, Mr. Groom," said he, resisting 
 the groom, who offered to take the bridle from his hand. 
 " No, no, papa says I may and I will." 
 
 " Will !" repeated Mrs. J . " Dear me ! who would 
 
 ever have expected to hear such a word from Master 
 Frank ? I thought Master Frank was so good that he 
 had no will of his own. I thought he always said, Just 
 as papa pleases." 
 
 " Papa pleases that I should have a will of my own," 
 said Frank. " Look, papa, how Felix follows me," said 
 he, going on, patting him on the well shoulder. " Poor 
 fellow good Felix." 
 
 " Sweet creature ! how I admire that tenderness ! 
 
 One kiss at parting," cried Mrs. J , stepping up to 
 
 him with intent to kiss him ; but Frank put his arm 
 across his face at that instant, so that no kiss could be 
 had. She laughed and said, " Who'd have thought he 
 was so ungallant 1 but his heart and soul are in his 
 horse ; he can think of nothing but Felix." 
 
 And much more Mrs. J . said, but what more 
 
 Frank did not hear, for he led Felix away as well as he 
 could ; but as he passed he saw Tom leaning against 
 the stable-door, and looking very gloomy ; and believing 
 he must be really very unhappy, Frank held out his 
 hand to him, saying, " Shake hands, Tom ; you see Fe- 
 lix can walk pretty well, and I dare say he will get quite 
 well." 
 
 Tom, now really touched, gave his hand and said, 
 " Jack, the groom, told me you never would forgive 
 me." 
 
 " Did he 1" said Frank ; " Not forgive you for an ac- 
 cident ! Besides, I know you must be very sorry."
 
 
 
 FRANK. 337 
 
 r 
 
 " I am, now," said Tom, turning away his head, " that 
 I am ; and do you forgive me, Frank ?" 
 
 " That I do," said Frank, " and so does Felix, I am 
 sure ; he would say so if he could. Pat him, pat him ; 
 that's as good as shaking hands," said Frank. 
 
 But the horse started back as Tom approached. 
 
 " He's only a horse, and has not sense enough to for- 
 give," said Frank ; " but there's my hand for him." . 
 
 Tom grasped Frank's hand, and was going to say 
 something, but the groom came by to open the gate. 
 Tom's countenance changed, and, letting go Frank's 
 hand, he did not utter whatever it was that he had been 
 going to say. 
 
 With fond words and frequent patting, and careful 
 choosing of his paths through the fields, Frank drew 
 Felix on, slowly indeed, but without much difficulty, till 
 they came to a bit of cross-road, where, at the sight of 
 certain flat stepping-stones across a ford, he gave signs 
 of terror, and became, what he had never before ap- 
 peared, quite restive. 
 
 Frank's father advised the taking him round by 
 another way, and with his counsel and assistance Felix 
 was brought home, exceedingly tired indeed, but safely. 
 As soon as all that could be devised for his comfort was 
 done, Frank went to Mary, who was anxiously waiting 
 for him to ask many questions : several about Felix and 
 his strain, several about Tom and his promise. To all 
 that concerned Felix, Frank answered minutely and 
 clearly. But with respect to Tom he could not be so 
 satisfactory ; he could only answer shortly, that he 
 hoped he had kept his promise. That he had not in- 
 quired, and that he would rather not think about it. 
 
 " But now you have made me think about it," said 
 Frank, " there was something very pale and confused 
 in his countenance at first, and at last too ; but it is not 
 fair to judge by countenance." 
 
 " No," said Mary, " for when people are frightened 
 they look pale and confused." 
 
 " But do not let us talk of him," said Frank, " any 
 more. I have never thought of him once all the way 
 home ; indeed I could not, for I had to mind every step 
 that poor Felix was taking. My dear Mary, you cannot 
 think how gentle and good he was, or how excessively 
 kind my father was all the way to me and Felix. I 
 shall never forget it if I live a hundred years." 
 P 29
 
 338 FRANK. 
 
 " Nor I neither," said Mary. 
 
 After a night's rest, the first questions that were anx 
 iously asked in the morning were, " How does Felix do 
 to-day ? Do you think he will get well T and how soon 1" 
 
 The result of all the consultations were, that Felix 
 would, if great care were taken of him, get well ; but 
 that his recovery could not be expected in less than six 
 weeks, and that during that time he must not be ridden. 
 
 " Oh ! if he does but get well, I do not mind that," 
 said Frank. " Must not ride him ! no, to be sure, not 
 till he is quite, quite well. Upon no account I should. 
 But will you take me with you to the stable to see him, 
 papa V 
 
 His father did so, and his mother was glad to observe 
 that Frank thought more of the pain his horse suffered 
 than of the loss of the pleasure of his own rides. 
 
 " Mamma," said Mary, " I think Frank is not at all 
 selfish. I like people who are not selfish." 
 
 The old pony had been sold to the clergyman of the 
 parish, who was very fond of Frank, and who, as soon 
 as he heard of the accident that had happened to Felix, 
 came to offer to lend Frank the pony every second day. 
 But Frank, who knew that he wanted it for his daugh- 
 ter, who was out of health, thanked him with all his 
 heart, but would not accept of this kind offer. He 
 would put riding quite out of his head till Felix should 
 be well, he said, and could make himself contented 
 without it. 
 
 " Mary, you know we can find plenty of happy things 
 to do. Oh ! my dear, there is Mrs. Wheeler's arbour 
 which I had almost forgotten ; we will set about it di- 
 rectly." 
 
 And so he did. His father pleased with his energy, 
 lent him a labourer to assist in making the holes, in 
 which the first rods for the arches were to be put down. 
 "With the assistance and instructions of the gardener's 
 basket-making son, and with vigorous and constant work 
 on his own part, for an hour a day, the arbour advanced, 
 not perhaps as rapidly as Frank had expected, but well 
 and solidly. When it was closed in, \vith v well-wove 
 wickerwork, Mary was brought to see it, and not even 
 Mrs. Wheeler herself delighted in it more. Mary said 
 that she would plant cuttings of ever-blowing roses, 
 and of clematis, and cuttings of honeysuckle, early and 
 late blowing wood-rebine, so that they might be, as the
 
 FRANK. 339 
 
 gardener said, a succession of flowers in blow, both in 
 spring and autumn. The only disagreeable considera- 
 tion was, that now was not the proper season for these 
 cuttings, nor could they be planted before next spring or 
 autumn. Frank's mother said she would give them 
 some sweetbrier berries ; of these Mary thought but lit- 
 tle ; but Frank, who had had more experience, and who 
 recollected a sweetbrier hedge which had grown up a 
 foot high in one year, from berries which he had seen 
 his mother sow, rejoiced now in the thoughts of putting 
 them into the ground next spring. 
 
 " But when will they come up ?" said Mary. 
 
 " Next summer," said Frank : " next autumn they 
 will be this high, and the year after they will be that 
 high," said he, marking different stages on the wicker- 
 work. 
 
 " But you will be at school then," said Mary. 
 
 " But I shall come home in the holydays, shall not I, 
 mamma? And then I shall see them and smell them 
 too ; besides, we are doing this for Mrs. Wheeler, and 
 she will not go to school next year." 
 
 Old Mrs. Wheeler, who was just seated in her new 
 seat in the arbour, rocked with laughing at the idea of 
 her going to school with Frank ; though she said she 
 was so fond of him, God bless his little bones, which 
 had worked so hard for her, she would go even to school 
 to please him if he asked her. Then she began to tell 
 something of a woman who had learned to read in her 
 sixtieth year. But though Frank's mother listened, 
 neither Frank nor Mary paid much attention to what 
 she was saying ; for Mary was sweeping away some lit- 
 ter with a new broom, and Frank's mind had gone back 
 to the sweetbriers and to former times. 
 
 As he was walking home, he said, " Do you remem- 
 ber, mamma, the time when you were sowing those 
 sweetbrier berries, and I was holding the little basket 
 for you 1 I have not forgotten the verses you then re- 
 peated for me, and that I learned that day about the 
 lark, who was 
 
 " To come in spite of sorrow, 
 And at my window bid good-morrow, 
 Through the sweetbrier, or the vine, 
 Or the twisted eglantine." 
 
 Mary asked, " What is eglantine ?" And Frank said he 
 knew she would ask that question, and he bid her guess. 
 P3
 
 340 FRANK. ' 
 
 She guessed that it was woodbine, honeysuckle. So 
 Frank had thought, he said, till his mother that day 
 told him that it was sweetbrier. But Mary repeated, 
 " ' Twisted eglantine :' woodbine twists more than sweet- 
 brier, I think ; and besides, in the line before, it says, 
 through the sweetbrier or the vine. Then you see the 
 man mentions sweetbrier twice over." 
 
 " Very true, very well, Mary, indeed !" said Frank ; 
 " is not it, mamma, the very thing the critic in the book 
 said ? But I can show you, Mary, in a book, when we 
 go home, that it is supposed eglantine meant in former 
 days, some other kind of dog-rose, different from sweet- 
 brier." 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by George 
 Wheeler riding by on his cart-horse, who bid them good- 
 day and trotted on. 
 
 " How merrily he goes ! Oh ! when will poor Felix 
 trot as well again 1 ?" said Mary. 
 
 " Just what I was thinking," said Frank. " But do not 
 let us think of him. Mamma, I am very glad we have 
 had something else to do ; for it would not be of any use 
 to Felix that 1 should be unhappy all day long ; would 
 it, mamma '\ Mamma, I think that I had better begin to 
 learn French, because Mary is learning it ; and she used 
 to learn it when 1 was out riding : and to tell me some 
 of the French words when I came home." 
 
 " He will soon be able to read the fairy tale I am 
 reading, mamma," said Mary, " ' The Golden Ram.' But 
 first he must go through ' Toiles faraignles pour attraper 
 Us mouchesS Cobwebs to catch flies." 
 
 "Cobwebs! why must I go through them?" said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Because I did," said Mary. 
 
 " It is not absolutely necessary that he should begin 
 with the same book that you read first, Mary," said his 
 mother ; " but it is necessary that he should learn the 
 verbs." 
 
 " Always those verbs !" cried Frank. 
 " Yes," said his mother ; " you know how useful it is 
 to learn the verbs, which are perpetually wanted in 
 every sentence." 
 
 " 1 know it, mamma. Papa and Latin grammar taught 
 me that long ago. Colonel Birch advised me to learn 
 French, and told me that he was sorry he had not learn- 
 ed it early ; for once, when he was in France and Spain,
 
 FRANK. 341 
 
 he was very near losing his life and many men's lives 
 by not understanding French." 
 
 When they had rested after this walk, and when 
 Frank had finished all he had to say, or to hear about 
 Felix, Mary brought " Cobwebs to catch Jlies," and sat 
 down beside him, waiting for the happy moment to catch 
 his attention. 
 
 " Read the title-page," said Frank. Since Ferguson's 
 Life they had regularly reminded each other to read 
 title-pages. 
 
 " Toiles d'Araignees pour attraper les Mouches, ou courts 
 Dialogues pour V Instruction des Enfans, depuis Page de 
 trois ans jusqu'd Page de huit." 
 
 Mary translated this as she read on : " Short Dia- 
 logues for the instruction of Children, from the age of 
 three years old to eight years old." Frank looked 
 proudly down upon the book, and said, " Mary, it is too 
 little for me three years old indeed !" 
 
 " To eight]" said Mary. 
 
 " But I am past nine, you know." 
 
 " Never mind your age," said Mary. " The easiest 
 things are the best to begin with. First let me read this 
 bit to you about Tom and a horse." 
 
 " Tom and a horse ! Oh ! what is it ]" said Frank. 
 
 Mary then read the following sentences, which she 
 translated for Frank : 
 
 " Ah voila un cheval, faime bien le cheval. Allans mon- 
 sieur, marchez, allez le trot. Je ne vous ferai pas trotter 
 dans les mauvais chemins." 
 
 " Skip to Tom at the top of the next page," said Frank. 
 
 " Tom vovs lavera les jambes et les pieds pour en oter le 
 "bone et le sable.' 1 '' 
 
 Mary translated, and then said, 
 
 f " You see this Tom was very careful of his horse, 
 quite different from your Master Tom. But, mamma, is 
 not it very extraordinary that the name should be Tom, 
 and about a horse !" 
 
 " No, Mary, I do not think it very extraordinary 
 Tom is a common name." 
 
 " But is not it very odd, that Tom takes care of a 
 horse, ma'am V 
 
 " Not very odd : many Toms take care of horses." 
 
 " But it is curious, mamma, that we should see it in 
 the book to-day, just when we are thinking about Felix 
 and Tom." 
 
 29*
 
 342 FRANK. 
 
 " That was what made you take notice of it," said her 
 mother. 
 
 " That is true, mamma, for I have read it before, 
 twice, and 1 never took notice of it till now. But it 
 seems a sort of 1 do not know how to express what I 
 mean, mamma." 
 
 "It is like what papa observed yesterday," said 
 Frank, " about something which you had been reading 
 of in an old book, which was the first thing he saw when 
 he opened the newspaper, just after you had done 
 speaking. I remember papa said this is a coincidence : 
 that was the word, was not it, mamma ? and it means, 
 for I asked him but I don't recollect exactly." 
 
 " The happening of things at the same time, that seem 
 to have no connexion, or that really have no connex- 
 ion," said his mother. " But why does Mary look so 
 wondrous grave ?" 
 
 " I suppose she was thinking of something very 
 wise," said Frank. 
 
 " I was not thinking of any thing wise," said Mary ; 
 " I was only thinking, mamma but 1 know you will say 
 it is so very foolish." 
 
 " And suppose I do, if it is not foolish, my saying so 
 will not make it foolish ; and if it is, perhaps my point- 
 ing it out to you may assist you to make it wise." 
 
 " Very true, mamma ; then you must know, that a 
 few nights ago, the very night before the day that Felix 
 was hurt, I dreamt, and you know, mamma, I always 
 tell the exact truth about dreams as well as about 
 every thing else " 
 
 " Come," said Frank, " do, my dear, make haste and 
 tell the dream." 
 
 " Well," said Mary, " I dreamt exactly what happen- 
 ed to Felix the next day, that he fell down and hurt 
 himself very much : so I think dreams have something 
 to do with what is to happen, mamma." 
 
 " What do you think, mamma 1 ?" said Frank, eagerly. 
 
 " I think it is more likely that they have something 
 to do with what has happened," answered his mother. 
 
 " But, ma'am, you know Felix did not fall down till 
 the next day, so her dream could not have any thing to 
 do with what had happened, but it might have some- 
 thing to do with what was to come. You will allow 
 this is good reasoning, mamma. So, as grand people in 
 books say, we may conclude that "
 
 FRANK. 343 
 
 " Stay, my dear Frank," interrupted his mother, " you 
 must not skip to your conclusion so fast ; we are not yet 
 sure of the facts." 
 
 " Oh, ma'am," said Mary, with a look and tone of in- 
 jured innocence, " can you doubt my telling truth 1" 
 
 " Not in the least, my dear Mary." 
 
 " And yet you say you do not know the facts." 
 
 " I do not ; I have not yet heard even the dream ex- 
 actly. You say, Mary, that you dreamt exactly what 
 happened." 
 
 " Yes, mamma." 
 
 " But I do not know exactly what did happen ; if you 
 do, Mary, tell me." 
 
 " Do not you know, ma'am, that Felix fell down," 
 said Frank, " and sprained his shoulder." 
 
 " But it was not his shoulder that was hurt in my 
 dream," said Mary. 
 
 " What then 1" said Frank. 
 
 " His nose," said Mary. 
 
 " His nose !" repeated Frank, laughing : " that's very 
 different." 
 
 " That is one difference," said Mary. 
 
 " And there were some others," said she, smiling. 
 " Mamma, in my dream, when he fell, he tumbled heels 
 over head and twice." 
 
 "Oh '."cried Frank, laughing, " there is another dif- 
 ference, indeed ! did you ever see a horse tumble heels 
 over head twice, too ?" 
 
 " Let her go on, my dear, and tell us the dream with- 
 out interruption." 
 
 " Twice head over heels I saw him go, and it was on. 
 the grass-plot ; and you, Frank, were upon his back the 
 first time, and mamma called out to you, ' Take care of 
 my roses,' which I thought very odd, because I was 
 much more afraid of your being hurt than the roses, for 
 you were under the horse ; but he scrambled up again 
 in the oddest way ! he had hands something like yours, 
 but more like monkey's paws ; but you were not on his 
 back when he got up again : you were changed to Tom, 
 with his whip in his hand ; and, when he slashed it, 
 over went the horse, head over heels again, and Felix 
 hit his nose against the oddest thing the tea-chest, 
 mamma ! and when his nose began to bleed, I ran to 
 him, like a goose, with my pocket-handkerchief; and 
 Tom slashed him, and Frank tried to stop his hand;
 
 344 FRANK. 
 
 Frank caught hold of the bridle, but Felix reared ; and 
 then Felix changed into Squire Rogers's Stamper ; and 
 as he put out his foot to knock Frank down, I was so 
 frightened 1 wakened suddenly ; and I thought no more 
 about it till after breakfast : the first thing I heard was, 
 that Felix had tumbled down with Tom, and that he was 
 very much hurt. So you see, mamma " 
 
 " Yes, I see, my dear, that this dream was very far 
 from being exactly what happened afterward : but al- 
 most all the parts of it you may trace back, by your own 
 account, to things that happened before." 
 
 She reminded Mary that Frank had, the preceding day, 
 been tumbling head over heels upon the grass-plot; 
 that she had said, take care of my roses ; and that 
 Frank, showing his hands, said that they looked like 
 monkey's paws. 
 
 " And a week ago," said Frank, " I fell down and hit 
 my nose against Mrs. Catharine's tea-chest, and you 
 ran up with your pocket-handkerchief; and as to Tom's 
 slashing, that was very natural ; it came from the de- 
 scription I gave you of his beating his own horse at the 
 gate. As mamma says, almost the whole of the dream 
 was from things that had passed, oddly put together, 
 certainly ; but there was nothing foretold." 
 
 " Except the chief thing, Frank," said Mary, " which 
 was the fall of Felix with Tom, and his being hurt all 
 that came true ! and this is extraordinary." 
 
 " Not very extraordinary," said Frank ; " because, if 
 you recollect, papa, the day before, when he heard I had 
 lent Felix to Tom, said, ' I should not be surprised if some 
 accident happens, Tom rides so violently ;' and I recol- 
 lect, now, that I tumbled heels over head just at that 
 time, and said, ' No papa, I hope not.' " 
 
 Frank asked Mary if she was now convinced that 
 things which had passed had made out her dream pretty 
 well ; and she said she was. His mother observed that 
 it was useful to look back, and to trace dreams in this 
 manner, because it prevents our having foolish, supersti- 
 tious fears or expectations, that they foretel what will 
 happen. " Circumstances," as she observed, " do some- 
 times occur that are like what we dream of; just as 
 what happens one day is like what happens another; 
 and sometimes coincidences occur ; like Tom and the 
 horse in the book being seen just at the time when 
 Tom and the horse were seen in reality; but though
 
 FRANK. 345 
 
 it may be amusing to observe these odd coincidences, 
 nothing can be learned from them for guiding our con- 
 duct." 
 
 " No, mamma," said Frank. " But we have run on a 
 great way, from cobwebs to catch flies and the French 
 verbs : mamma would you really advise me to begin to 
 learn French ?" 
 
 " Certainly, my dear, I advise you to begin if you 
 mean to continue, but not else." 
 
 Frank said he did and he would ; and Mary appealed 
 to the -proofs he had given of his perseverance and 
 punctuality during the last six long weeks. Time and 
 place were settled accordingly, and Frank began, f at, 
 tu as, il a, nous avons, vous avez, Us ont. 
 
 " HERE is the engineer's carriage, Frank ! come, 
 come," said Mary. 
 
 " But there's nobody in it but himself!" said Frank. 
 " His son is not with him, and yet he promised to bring 
 Lewis." 
 
 " How do you do, sir ? I am very glad to see you. I 
 thought you promised to bring your son Lewis with 
 you." 
 
 " I promised to bring him if I could, but I could not ; 
 and why, do you think V 
 
 " I can't guess," said Frank, " for I am sure you have 
 room enough in that carriage ; besides, if he had a mind 
 to come, he could sit anywhere, in ever so little room, 
 as I do." 
 
 " But Lewis did not choose to come," said the engi- 
 neer. 
 
 " Not wish to come here, and see Frank V said 
 Mary. 
 
 " I said, he did not choose to come," said the engineer ; 
 " I never said he did not wish to come, did I ? Did I, 
 my little lady ? We must be accurate in these nice af- 
 fairs." 
 
 " But why did not he choose to come if he wished 
 it ?" said Frank. 
 
 " Because he had a kind uncle, who was ill, and who 
 wished that he should stay with him ; and Lewis stayed 
 because he thought it was right." 
 
 " Very right," said Mary. 
 P3
 
 346 FRANK. 
 
 " I like him all the better for it ; but will he never 
 come?" said Frank. 
 
 " Yes, he'll come on Tuesday by the coach. Will 
 you be so good," continued the engineer, turning to 
 Frank's father, " as to send a horse to meet him, wher- 
 ever the coach puts up 1" 
 
 " Oh my poor Felix ! how glad I should have been to 
 have lent him," thought Frank ; but he said nothing ; it 
 was too tender a subject. 
 
 Other means were arranged for bringing Lewis, and 
 other subjects were talked of, in which Frank and Mary 
 had no concern. They took care not to interrupt the 
 conversation, but Frank hoped that the engineer would 
 not forget to question him about the ecliptic, and the 
 uses of astronomy and trigonometry, which Mary was 
 sure that Frank understood now, since he had explained 
 them so clearly that even she could comprehend them. 
 
 At tea time, his friend the engineer turned to him, and 
 laughing, asked him if he was or was not now in the sit- 
 uation of " the triangle man." Frank, who had grown a 
 little more modest as his knowledge had a little increas- 
 ed, answered that he hoped he was not ; he had read, 
 and he believed he understood all that had been marked 
 for him. 
 
 Upon examination, his friend found that he was now 
 quite clear upon all the points to which he had directed 
 his attention, and into which his vain attempts to make 
 an orrery had led him still farther to inquire. 
 
 " I rejoice, my dear Frank," said his father, " that it 
 is now in my power to give you pleasure, and a sort of 
 pleasure which you have in some degree earned for 
 yourself." 
 
 As he spoke, he took out of his pocket a printed pa- 
 per, which looked like a play-bill. When he unfolded 
 and held it before Frank's eyes, the first words he saw 
 in large letters were Orrery and Eidouranion. 
 
 " Orrery ! oh delightful orrery !" repeated Frank, seiz- 
 ing the paper, which his father let fall into his hands. 
 Frank read, and learned that a man by the name of Bright 
 had brought an orrery to the neighbouring county town, 
 and that he would show it, and give an explanatory lec- 
 ture upon it the following evening at nine o'clock : tick- 
 ets of admission, &c. 
 
 His father told him that he would give him a ticket, 
 and take him to see it.
 
 FRANK. 347 
 
 11 And Mary, papa 1" 
 
 " And Mary, if it will be any pleasure to her if she 
 can understand it." 
 
 Frank answered for her pleasure and understanding ; 
 and she pointed to a line in the advertisement, which 
 said that the lecture would be peculiarly adapted to the 
 capacities of young people. 
 
 On Monday evening they all went to see the orrery. 
 It was to be shown in the play-house. They were seat- 
 ed in the box opposite to the stage, and Mary and Frank 
 were placed in the front row, beside his mother ; his fa- 
 ther and his friend the engineer, were close behind them, 
 so that they could answer their questions. 
 
 It was the first time they had ever been in any play- 
 house, and the sight of the lamps, the lights, the com- 
 pany, the boxes, the pit, and the great curtain before the 
 stage, occupied their attention fully for some time. 
 Presently they heard a noise made by the people in the 
 pit, knocking with their canes against the ground. 
 Frank's father told him that this was a sign that the peo- 
 ple were growing impatient for the curtain to draw up. 
 Frank and Mary, who had not yet finished counting all 
 the lamps, wondered how the people could be so impa- 
 tient. But while they were counting the row of lights 
 which were before the stage, these began to sink down 
 and the other lamps in the house were shaded, so that 
 all were nearly in darkness ; and at the same moment 
 soft music was heard, and the curtain began to draw up. 
 The music was from an harmonica, which was conceal- 
 ed behind the scenes. While this soft music played, the 
 curtain drew up slowly, and they beheld two globes, 
 that seemed self-suspended in air. One seemed a globe 
 of fire, with some dark spots on its surface ; a blaze of 
 light issuing from it in all directions, and its rays half 
 enlightened the other globe, of which half remained in 
 darkness. 
 
 Frank and Mary, in breathless admiration, looked at 
 these globes, which they knew represented the sun and 
 the earth ; and they began to watch the motions of these 
 orbs, when a man in a brown coat came upon the stage, 
 with a white pocket-handkerchief in his hand. As he en- 
 tered he looked back and nodded to some one behind the 
 scenes, and at that nod the globes representing the sun 
 and earth stood still. He then blew his nose, which Mary 
 thought he might as well have done before he came on
 
 348 FRANK. 
 
 the stage ; and then he bowed to the audience, and said 
 he had the misfortune to inform them that he was only 
 Mr. Bright's assistant, for Mr. Bright himself could not 
 appear this night. At these words he was interrupted 
 by loud cries of " Off! q/f /" from a great part of the 
 audience, and of hisses and beating of sticks against the 
 floor, while others in the pit and boxes clapped their 
 hands, endeavouring to overpower the hisses. At last 
 they were overpowered ; and the man, who had stood 
 bowing and looking very much frightened, could be 
 heard ; and he began again to speak in rather a trembling 
 voice ; he assured the gentlemen and ladies that Mr. 
 Bright was really so ill in bed with a violent cold, that it 
 would have been morally, and physically, and utterly 
 impossible that he could have appeared' this night, or 
 that his voice could have had the happiness of being 
 heard by the gentlemen and ladies, if he had attempted 
 to do himself the honour of lecturing them this night : 
 that he, Mr. Bright's assistant and unworthy substitute, 
 was therefore under the necessity of presenting him- 
 self to a generous and humane public, whose favourable 
 hearing he implored. The generous and humane pub- 
 lic on hearing this, and being convinced that Mr. Bright 
 was really ill, clapped with one accord ; and Mr. Bright's 
 assistant bowed his thanks, and quite reassured, he be- 
 gan again with " Gentlemen and ladies, this is an orre- 
 ry, gentlemen and ladies, as I shall have the honour of 
 explaining to you." 
 
 Frank and Mary sat forward and listened. But in- 
 stead of explaining the orrery, he began to talk of celes- 
 tial harmony, or the music of the spheres, which he told 
 them they had just heard ; yet which had never really 
 existed, except in the fanciful systems of the ancients. 
 But he forgot to tell what the music of the spheres was 
 supposed to be. 
 
 Frank looked back in his distress to his father, who 
 whispered that the ancients supposed that the heavenly 
 bodies, in moving, made certain musical sounds. There 
 was no time for more explanation, for the lecturer was 
 going on to something new. He said much of the har- 
 monic numbers, and of chaos ; and so much about the 
 Coperm'can and Ptolemaic systems, and the disputes of 
 the learned, that Mary was nearly asleep before he came 
 to the orrery. Frank, too, was quite tired, for he had 
 strained his attention listening to a vast number of
 
 FRANK. 349 
 
 words which he thought were all necessary, and of 
 which nearly half were nothing to the purpose. 
 
 " I wish he would tell something about the orrery 
 
 before I am quite fast asleep, mamma," whispered Mary. 
 
 " I wish he would leave out all about the disputes, or 
 
 knock down at once all the men that were wrong, papa," 
 
 said Frank, " and come to those that were right." 
 
 At last he came to the right, as far as we know at 
 present : and then he gave his nod, and the earth and 
 sun having been released, they resumed their motions. 
 Frank stood up, and Mary wakened, and they were de- 
 lighted with all they saw, as much as they had been 
 tired with all they had heard. They saw the earth, as 
 it turned on its axis, enlightened on the side next the 
 sun, and dark on the other, representing day and night ; 
 and they saw, at the same time, the earth pursue its an- 
 nual journey round the sun in its path aslant, with its 
 north and south pole, each alternately turning to the 
 sun, so as to produce summer and winter for the south- 
 ern and northern hemispheres (or halves of the globe). 
 And they saw the sun in the midst turning round slowly.* 
 Mary observed the moving of the spots on his face, 
 which made his motion more apparent. This scene 
 was particularly interesting to Frank, from the pains he 
 had taken, and the various attempts he had made to 
 understand and to represent them. In the second scene 
 they saw the earth and sun, with the addition of another 
 globe representing the moon; and the object of this 
 scene was to represent the changes, and the causes of 
 the changes of the moon. They saw the moon without 
 any light of her own receiving light from the sun. They 
 saw her journeying in her monthly course round the 
 earth, sometimes showing more, sometimes less, of the 
 enlightened part. Next they saw an eclipse of the 
 moon, and they understood its cause. Whenever Frank 
 found any thing above his comprehension, he was not 
 ashamed to ask his father, or the engineer, who kindly 
 explained to him what he wished, for, as they said, he 
 deserved it. 
 
 " Are you tired, Frank V said his mother. 
 " Not in the least, mamma, thank you." 
 " And you, Mary, are you awake or asleep 1" 
 " I am awake now, mamma ; I was very sleepy, but 
 I am better since I saw the moon and the eclipse." 
 * In twenty-five days and a quarter. 
 30
 
 350 FRANK. 
 
 By this time the lecturer had come to an explanation 
 of the cause of the tides, which neither Mary nor Frank 
 could comprehend. His father judiciously and kindly 
 took them out, to rest their attention, and refresh them- 
 selves while this lasted. They went into a cool room, 
 where they ate oranges and biscuits, and drank lem- 
 onade till the tides were over. When they returned 
 to the box, they found that the last scene was just be- 
 gun, and this was the most beautiful. It showed the 
 whole solar system, as it is called, with every planet 
 and satellite in their annual rotation: and there they 
 saw bright Venus, and red Mars, and Jupiter with his 
 satellites, and Saturn with his ring ; and last, not least, 
 they saw a comet with its bright tail. The curtain fell, 
 and Frank arid Mary were sorry, for they were now 
 much more awake than they had been at first. It was 
 very different with some of the other little children, who 
 had not been awakened by the moon or by the eclipse, 
 nor even by the comet, but were now in Mary's late con- 
 dition, dead asleep, in various attitudes. Of some, only 
 the hairy heads could be seen in the front of the boxes : 
 others lolling on their mothers' laps, or propped against 
 fathers' shoulders, or stretched at lubber length upon 
 the benches, filled the places of those who had fairly 
 given up, and had been carried home before the lecture 
 was done. When the curtain fell, numbers of little 
 bodies reappeared, and rose, stretching, gaping, wri- 
 thing : and were pushed, pulled, lifted, or hauled over 
 the benches and along the passages. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, as soon as they were all seated 
 in the carriage, " do not you think it was a pity to bring 
 such very little children to this lecture 1 Did you see 
 that they were all asleep!" 
 
 " And I will tell you what, mamma," said Mary, ** I 
 should have been just in the same condition if Frank 
 had not explained a great deal beforehand ; and, after 
 all, I was rather sleepy at first while the preface was 
 speaking." 
 
 Frank, and his father, and mother, and the engineer, 
 all agreed in expressing their dislike to long prefaces for 
 young people : and Frank added, for Mary's comfort, 
 that even he, after all his reading in Scientific Dialogues, 
 had much difficulty sometimes in understanding both the 
 machine and the lecture.
 
 FRANK. ' 351 
 
 " And, besides, the man often lowered his voice so 
 much that I could scarcely hear him," said Mary. 
 
 " You remember, mamma," continued Frank, " how I 
 was puzzled at first reading Scientific Dialogues; and 
 how much more difficult it would have been here, in the 
 midst of all the lights, and noise, and new things, to 
 have understood it all : I never could, I am sure, unless 
 I had read the description and explanation beforehand." 
 
 Frank thanked his friend the engineer for the trouble 
 he had taken to mark the passages for him. 
 
 His father and mother now began to talk about some- 
 thing that did not interest the children, and Mary fell 
 asleep, and slept till Frank wakened her, saying, " Mary 
 the moon is rising !" and Mary started up, and looked at 
 the moon. 
 
 " How beautiful !" said she : " and how " sublime-! 
 she would have said, but she did not know the word well 
 enough : she knew the feeling. She asked if she might 
 let down the glass, which Frank accomplished for her 
 directly ; it was a fine, clear, frosty night, and she stood 
 perfectly still and silent, enjoying the feeling of the 
 fresh air, and the sight of the moon, the blue sky, and 
 the innumerable stars. 
 
 " Mary," said Frank, " only think of that moon's be- 
 ing another world !" 
 
 " I do not know how to imagine it," said Mary. 
 
 " But it is really so," said Frank : " and all these stars 
 are worlds ! How wonderful ! What is the orrery com- 
 pared to this, Mary !" said Frank, in a very serious tone. 
 " How grand ! how different from any thing that the 
 most ingenious man in this world can make !" 
 
 They were both silent again for a little while. 
 
 " What have you been thinking of, that has kept you 
 so silent, Mary ?" 
 
 " Mamma, I was thinking of a great many things 
 of the stars, and of the moon, and of at the very in- 
 stant you spoke I was thinking of some verses upon the 
 moon." 
 
 " I know," said Frank 
 
 " ' As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night ' " 
 
 " Not those," said Mary, " but the others which I 
 learnt from your book, Frank : 
 
 " ' By thy command the moon as daylight fades, 
 Lifts her broad circle in the deep'ning shades;
 
 852 FRANK. 
 
 Array'd in glory, and enthron'd in light, 
 She breaks the solemn terrors of the night; 
 Sweetly inconstant in her varying flame, 
 She changes, still another, yet the same ! 
 Now in decrease, by slow degree she shrouds 
 Her fading lustre in a veil of clouds ; 
 Now of increase her gathering beams display 
 A blaze of light, and give a paler day; 
 Ten thousand stars adorn her glitt'ring train, 
 Fall when she falls, and rise with her again. 
 
 Through the wide heav'ns she moves serenely bright, 
 
 Queen of the gay attendants of the night ; 
 
 Orb above orb in sweet confusion lies, 
 
 And with a bright disorder paints the skies.' "* 
 
 " GOOD MORNING to you, papa; do you know there is 
 a man in the hall who is waiting to speak to you, sirl" 
 said Frank ; " a very hoarse man, papa." 
 
 " Coarse or fine, he must not be kept waiting, Frank," 
 said his father, rising from the breakfast-table. 
 
 " Hoarse, not coarse, I said, papa : shall I ring, or go 
 myself and ask him to come in." 
 
 " Does he look like a gentleman ?" 
 
 " I do not know, papa ; but he speaks like a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " Then go and tell him we are at breakfast, and ask 
 him to walk in, if he pleases ; and if he does not choose 
 to come in, I will go to him." 
 
 Frank went, and returned with a person who, as Mary 
 thought, exactly suited Frank's description. It was Mr. 
 Bright, the lecturer, to whom the orrery belonged, and 
 who had been prevented from lecturing himself by hav- 
 ing a severe cold. He was still so hoarse that he could 
 scarcely be heard, but he hoped that he should recover 
 his voice in a day or two ; and his present object was 
 to announce his intention of giving a course of lectures 
 on natural philosophy, and of adapting some to the use 
 of young people. He hoped for subscriptions and en- 
 couragement ; and he particularly wished for advice, 
 he said, from those who had children, and who knew 
 what was likely to suit their taste and comprehension. 
 Frank's father and mother were pleased with the mod- 
 est, sensible manner in which he spoke : and, after 
 looking over his prospectus, or view of the subjects on 
 
 * Paraphrase of Ecclesiasticus. BROOMK'S POEM.
 
 FRANK. 353 
 
 which he intended to lecture, they pointed out what 
 they thought might be best adapted to different ages ; 
 they advised dividing the lectures into those fit for the 
 younger and the elder auditors, and recommended that 
 these should be given on separate days ; and that those 
 for the younger children should never exceed half an 
 hour at a time. 
 
 Mary thought this an excellent regulation. She and 
 Frank listened to all that was said, while his father and 
 mother and the engineer advised with the lecturer upon 
 what subjects and experiments should be chosen. 
 
 She was glad that some facts were to be told of the 
 history of birds, and bees, and dogs, and elephants, and 
 different animals. And Frank rejoiced that something 
 was to be said of roofing houses, and of windmills, and 
 of the sails of ships. And he was glad to hear that this 
 gentleman had an electrical machine, for he wished 
 exceedingly to feel the electrical shock, and to see the 
 electrical spark, and an electrical horserace, and several 
 entertaining wonders of which he had heard rumours. 
 Mary was not very anxious to feel the electrical shock, 
 but she was particularly happy to hear that there was 
 to be an airpump. 
 
 She had been told that in an airpump, a guinea, in 
 falling to the bottom, makes no more noise than a 
 feather. She wished to see and hear if this were true. 
 She had also read in one of her little books, a curious 
 anecdote about a cat who had saved her life when put 
 into an airpump, by stopping with her paw, the hole 
 out of which the air was going. Mary wished to see 
 whether any other cat would do the same : yet she 
 hoped no cruel experiments would be tried none such 
 as even a mouse would petition against. 
 
 The lecturer smiled, and said he presumed the young 
 lady alluded to " The Mouse's Petition," which Dr. 
 Priestley found one morning on his table. 
 
 When the lecturer took leave, he said that he should 
 have pleasure in showing Frank the orrery again, and 
 in letting him see the concealed machinery by which it 
 was moved. He said that he had heard from his assist- 
 ant how very attentive Frank had appeared to the lec- 
 ture ; that without knowing who he was, he had taken 
 notice of him as the most attentive of all the young 
 auditors ; and that he had afterward inquired, and had 
 been told who Frank was. He had observed that aj 
 30*
 
 354 PRANK. 
 
 most all the other children were either inattentive or 
 asleep. 
 
 Mr. Bright promised that the children's lecture should 
 not last longer than half an hour ; and with this agree- 
 able promise he departed, after thanking Frank's father 
 and mother for their advice and assistance, and saying 
 that he wished that all the young people whom he had 
 to teach, had had some previous instruction before they 
 came to hear public lectures. 
 
 Frank was glad that the lectures were not to begin 
 till Wednesday, because by that time the engineer's son 
 would have arrived. 
 
 On Tuesday morning, just as they were going to lun- 
 cheon, his father exclaimed, 
 
 " Here's Lewis !" 
 
 Mary, and, to tell the truth, Frank, felt a little afraid, 
 for they had heard the engineer say that his son was 
 translating Milton's Samson Agonistes into Latin verse, 
 and reading Herodotus in Greek, and the CEdipus Ty- 
 rannus of Sophocles : they fancied that he must be too 
 grand and learned for them. They were agreeably sur- 
 prised when they saw his good-natured, good-humoured 
 face. Mary thought he did not look in the least con- 
 ceited, nor too wise and solemn. He could stand, and 
 sit, and speak like anybody else, but quite differently 
 from Master Tom ! His manner of speaking especially 
 was veiy gentlemanlike. 
 
 The moment that luncheon was finished, Frank asked 
 him if he would like to go out and walk. 
 
 Yes, he said he should. 
 
 Mary, who recollected that Master Tom had told 
 Frank that he would be laughed at by schoolboys if he 
 walked with little girls, did not offer to follow them, till 
 Lewis, looking back in a very good-natured manner, said 
 to Frank, " Is not your sister coining with you ?" 
 
 " Thank you," said Frank. " Come Mary. She is 
 not my sister, but it is just the same." 
 
 Lewis said he had sisters of his own, to whom he was 
 always glad to go home in the holydays ; but his home 
 was a great way off he never went there more than 
 once a year. His sisters always took care of his gar- 
 den for him when he was away, and he was very fond 
 of it and of them. Frank and Mary were sorry that it 
 was winter, because their gardens and island would not 
 be worth looking at at this season; however, he liked
 
 FRANK. 355 
 
 seeing them, and said that many things here put him in 
 mind of his own home. 
 
 When they came in after this walk, Lewis went to 
 his father ; and as Mary was running up stairs to put 
 by her bonnet, Frank called to her, and said, " Mary, 
 how do you like him V 
 
 "Very well," said Mary; " was not it good-natured of 
 him to ask me to walk with you ? and when I was fol- 
 lowing you through the wood, he held back the boughs 
 for me. He is not at all a bear." 
 
 " No," said Frank. Mrs. J . may say what she 
 
 pleases, but all boys are not naturally little bears. No, 
 nor even all schoolboys." 
 
 " But Frank," said Mary, " you did not ask him many 
 questions about school and his schoolfellows." 
 
 " My dear, how could I, when most of the time we 
 were hare and hounds, or at the gardens ? I had not 
 lime." 
 
 " But why do you not follow him to his room now V 
 
 " Because his father is with him ; and we must let 
 him have his own talk with his father," said Frank. 
 
 " Certainly ; but I do not think his father is with him. 
 There he is, going down stairs. Now, Frank, run up, 
 and do ask him every thing about school." 
 
 Frank found Lewis alone in his room, but not in a 
 condition to answer questions about school, for he was 
 finishing a little note for home : a candle lighted on the 
 table, and a packet of letters open. 
 
 " I see you are busy," said Frank. " I only came to 
 ask questions about school, but I will not talk to hinder 
 you." 
 
 Lewis begged him to come in, and said that talking 
 never hindered him ; but that he could not be sure of 
 his having any sense for answers, till he had sent off 
 the letters for home, which his father had left him to 
 finish and seal. 
 
 Before he sealed his little note he began to shuffle 
 about the room in search of 
 
 ' What V said Frank. 
 
 " My carpet-bag," said he. 
 
 Frank found it for him. It was stuffed so as never 
 carpet-bag was stuffed before : yet that is a bold word. 
 Out of it he dragged shoes, boots, shirts, books, trou- 
 sers, jackets, innumerable little parcels, and strange 
 things directed to different people, and all these he be-
 
 356 FRANK. 
 
 gan to kick about, and tumble over, in search of some- 
 thing. 
 
 " What 1" said Frank. 
 
 " A bit of yellow silk," said Lewis, rummaging on in 
 the greatest hurry. 
 
 " Oh the post will be too late ."' 
 
 And Frank tumbled over the things too to help him, 
 but without well knowing what it was he was looking 
 fv. but, at last, turning one of a pair of new boots up- 
 side down, and saying to himself " Poor Felix !" out 
 dropped something like a lock of yellow hair, upon 
 which Lewis pounced, put it into his note, and sealed 
 the letters. 
 
 " It is very well," said Frank, " you knew what you 
 were looking for; I did not. I never should have 
 known that was yellow silk. But how you burn your 
 fingers with the wax, without minding it ! Give me the 
 packet, and I will run down and put it in the post-bag 
 for you." 
 
 " And pray," said Lewis. " come back again." 
 
 He did so ; and now Lewis had sense to answer ques- 
 tions. 
 
 The result of all the questions asked and answers 
 given, was, that Lewis liked home much better to be 
 sure than school ; but he liked his own school better 
 than any other. 
 
 Boys were never flogged there for making mistakes 
 in Latin grammar, or for any thing about learning. 
 
 There was no flogging except for the most disgrace- 
 ful faults, such as theft and lying. 
 
 He liked his master as well as he could like a schooj- 
 master, though he had very little to do with him, he 
 was a very clever man, a very good man ; he was just, 
 and had no favourites. 
 
 Frank begged that Lewis would tell him the names 
 of all his schoolfellows. 
 
 ) Lewis answered that this would not be soon done ; 
 for there were some hundreds. 
 
 " Some hundreds !" exclaimed Frank. " All in one 
 house ! What a house it must be !" 
 
 Before Frank recovered from his surprise, the dinner- 
 bell rang, and he went down stairs. 
 
 The long winter evening would have been a doleful 
 affair to Master Tom, or with him. Mary remembering 
 Tom's declaration, that he had " enough and too much
 
 FRANK. 357 
 
 of books at school," and that schoolboys never touched 
 one in the holydays, resolved that she would not mea 
 tion any, or even look towards their bookcase ; and she 
 thought it would not be civil to read, and begged that 
 Frank would not. But Lewis went to the bookcase of 
 his own accord, and asked if they would lend him any 
 thing entertaining to read. Then Mary quickly took 
 down their best books, and spread them before him; 
 and, far from looking at them with the disgust and dis- 
 dain with which Tom had surveyed her pile of litera- 
 ture, he examined each. He knew them almost all, 
 even Bingley's History of Quadrupeds. This was a 
 disappointment to Mary ; but then, if he had read them 
 all, it was a comfort to find that he liked those best 
 which Frank had preferred. There was one of her 
 books on insects,* which he had not seen before, and 
 she began to talk to him of butterflies, and caterpillars, 
 and spiders. Frank whispered, 
 
 " My dear, those things are too little for him." 
 
 "No," Lewis said, "not in the least too little:" he 
 confessed he knew scarcely any thing about them ; he 
 did know something, though, of silkworms ; he and 
 several of the boys at his school had some. 
 
 " Silkworms at school ! and at a boy's school," said 
 Mary. 
 
 "And at a school with hundreds of boys!" added 
 Frank. " I never should have thought it." 
 
 Yet so it was. And, to Mary's astonishment, Lewis 
 knew how they were to be fed with mulberry-leaves ; 
 and how the silk was to be wound from the cocoons. 
 " And I have wound a great deal of it myself. I sent 
 home some to my sister to-day. That was the yellow 
 silk, Frank, which you saw." 
 
 He hoped that he had another bit left for Mary, and 
 he ran up stairs to look for it, and Frank ran after him, 
 and they again searched among the scattered contents 
 of the bag, and at last found a card of silkworms' silk, 
 which had been left as a mark in " Ali Pasha," a prize 
 poem. Mary wondered how boys' great fingers could 
 wind such delicate silk ! Fine as the cobwebs in the 
 telescope, she was going to say, but she changed it into 
 " the finest cobweb I ever saw." 
 
 She was so much pleased with this, that she wished 
 
 * Dialogues on Entomology.
 
 358 FRANK. 
 
 to have some silkworms to take care of herself, espe- 
 cially as their friend the gardener had a mulberry-tree ; 
 but Lewis advised her not. She asked why ? He hesi- 
 tated to answer; but when she pressed, he replied 
 *' that they were very dirty, had a disagreeable smell, 
 and were apt to eat too much, and sometimes eat till 
 they burst." Any one of these reasons, but particularly 
 the last, would have been enough for Mary. To put 
 the gluttonous silkworms out of her head, she opened 
 one of her favourite books, and fortunately, this was one 
 of which Lewis never had heard. It opened at the his- 
 tory of a canary bird, who could spell the longest word 
 that could be required. For instance, Constantinopoli- 
 tanus, not speaking, but picking out the letters one by 
 one from a pasteboard alphabet laid before it on the table. 
 
 Mary seeing that Lewis was amused with this, could 
 not refrain from turning over the leaf to other anec- 
 dotes in honour of horses, asses, tigers, lions, ants, robin- 
 redbreasts, water-wagtails, and innumerable others. 
 
 Frank's mother smiled, and said, " My dear Mary, 
 have mercy : though Lewis listens with so much good- 
 nature, all these animals cannot be interesting to him : 
 he must be tired." 
 
 Lewis however declared that he was not tired, and 
 begged to have this book, and any which Mary could 
 lend him about animals. As it happened, he had at 
 present a particular interest on his own account in 
 reading histories of animals ; for he and all the boys in 
 his class at school had a thesis to write, and it was to 
 be in verse. Each was to choose for his theme any 
 bird, beast, fish, or insect, which they liked best. Now 
 his first difficulty was which bird, beast, fish, or insect 
 he should choose ; and an hour of this evening was 
 merrily spent by Frank, Mary, and Lewis, in pleading 
 in honour of insect, bird, beast, and fish. 
 
 Frank's father and mother, and the engineer and all, 
 condescended to join in the pleadings. The engineer 
 chose, or would have chosen, the half-reasoning ele- 
 phant for his hero, and had Indian anecdotes, credible 
 and incredible, to tell ; and much to say about the ele- 
 phant's judging of the strength of bridges by only put- 
 ting his foot on them ; and drawing cannon for armies, 
 where no power of horse, or man, or mechanism could 
 avail ; but scarcely had the engineer pronounced the 
 words, " I choose the elephant," when Lewis exclaimed,
 
 PRANK. 359 
 
 w Oh, sir, you can't have the elephant, for he's en- 
 gaged to young Little, one of my friends." 
 
 " Then I will take the beaver." 
 
 " But, my dear father, the beaver is engaged too, to 
 George Ruddiman." 
 
 " Well may I ' learn of the bee to build, the nautilus 
 to saiH'" 
 
 " No, you must not, papa ; the nautilus and the bee 
 were engaged three deep." ,. 
 
 " The whale, then !" 
 
 " No, sir, Milliken has the whale." 
 
 The pelican Frank's mother would have taken, but 
 the pelican belonged to a particular friend, Edgeware, 
 and could not be had. She then chose the sea-bear, 
 who so heroically defends her cubs : but Frank laughed 
 her out of the sea-bear, by saying that she must leave 
 
 that for Mrs. J , who maintained that all boys are 
 
 bears, and her own in particular. 
 
 Frank's father took the lion for his share, and, with 
 the help of Androcles and Scipio Africanus, hoped to 
 make much of him. 
 
 But he was obliged to give up the lion and Scipio ; for 
 Joe Thompson had made fifty-nine verses upon him al- 
 ready ; and, after that, would it be fair to take him from 
 Joe? 
 
 So many of the best beasts, birds, fishes, and insects 
 being thus pre-engaged to particular friends, and others 
 being objectionable as too common, and others as too 
 difficult, and quite unmanageable in poetry, the choice, 
 which had at first appeared almost impossible, from the 
 infinite variety of the animal world, was now limited, 
 and Frank began to complain that there was really 
 nothing left. 
 
 His mother, however, was content with the eider- 
 duck, who, robbed perpetually of the soft bedding for 
 her ducklings, plucks herself at last, even to death, for 
 her young. 
 
 Frank's father supported the bird of Jove, thunderbolt 
 in claw, and would not give him up, though Lewis 
 warned him that young Flaxman had a great mind to 
 him. 
 
 The engineer was allowed to have the ant, because 
 Milliken, who had had him, could make nothing of him, 
 and gave him up as too old and commonplace. But the 
 engineer's ant proved to be far from commonplace : he
 
 360 FRANK. 
 
 was fresh from Africa, of the great family of the termi- 
 tes bellicosi, whose houses, palaces, or pyramids, are 
 from twelve to twenty feet high; whose kings and 
 queens, if travellers' reports say true, are lodged in royal 
 chambers, well deserving the name, with gothic arches, 
 fretted roofs, and long-drawn aisles, with subterranean 
 galleries, water-proof and fire-proof, and magazines 
 well stored with provisions, which to the naked eye 
 seem but raspings of wood, or plants, but seen through a 
 microscope, resemble tears of gum and amber, and 
 some, still finer, sparkling like sugar about preserved 
 fruits. , 
 
 And when he came to the sparkling sugar, it appeared 
 that the engineer had not laboured this part in vain, for 
 Mary exclaimed, 
 
 " Beautiful !" 
 
 " Sublime, too, the poet may make the termites," con- 
 tinued the engineer. " When they march out of their 
 palaces, their march is to be stopped neither by earth, 
 fire, nor water. And if man makes war upon them in 
 their fortresses, he is forced to bring out his cannon be- 
 fore he can dislodge or conquer them." 
 
 The cannon astonished Mary. " Cannon against ants ! 
 against an insect !" 
 
 Lewis thought that, according to his father's descrip- 
 tion, this species of ant would really make a great figure 
 in poetry, and he had just decided to take the termites 
 for his subject, when Frank produced a formidable rival, 
 in the dog of Herculaneum. 
 
 Mary sprang up with joy when she heard this dog 
 named by Frank, and from her own book ! 
 
 " How could I forget the dear dog Delta ! but I am 
 glad that Frank remembered him." 
 
 Delta was a famous dog, whose skeleton was found 
 in the ruins of Herculaneum, stretched over the body 
 of a boy of twelve years of age. 
 
 Delta's collar, which is now to be seen in the gallery 
 of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, tells, by its Greek inscrip- 
 tion, that this dog belonged to a man of the name of 
 Severinus, whose life the dog three times saved, and 
 history informs us that he saved him once by dragging 
 him out of the sea, when nearly drowned, once by 
 driving off four robbers, and the third time by destroying 
 a she-wolf, who was going to tear him to pieces. 
 
 Delta was afterward given by Severinus to his son,
 
 PRANK. 361 
 
 and he grew so fond of the boy that he would take food 
 only from his hand ; and when at last he was unable to 
 save the child, the faithful animal would not forsake his 
 young master, but died along with him. ? t 
 
 Frank's father observed, in favour of this subject for 
 Lewis's poem, that it admitted of classical allusions, and 
 wakened ancient associations ; if he remembered right- 
 ly, the dog's master, Severinus, had attacked the she- 
 wolf's little ones, in a grove sacred to Diana. 
 
 Frank and Mary did not quite understand this: but 
 Lewis rejoiced in it, and the dog of Herculaneum had 
 all voices, all hearts in his favour, till the dog of Athena 
 was named by Frank's mother. 
 
 Mary found him, and his history was read, as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " ' A boy at Athens, of a very amiable character, had 
 a dog that had been his playmate from the cradle ; the 
 animal was so fond of his young master that he scarce- 
 ly ever quitted him ; he accompanied him in all his 
 sports, and whenever he saw him again, after a short 
 absence, he expressed his pleasure by a thousand ca- 
 resses. He always ate his meals with him, slept at his 
 feet at nigth, rose with him in the morning, and both, 
 began their day by playing with each other. 
 
 " ' One day this young Athenian, looking out of the 
 window at some exhibition that was passing along the 
 street, overreached himself, and losing his balance, fell 
 from the upper story of the house to the ground, and 
 was killed upon the spot. Phileros (that was the name 
 of the dog) immediately leaped after him, and broke his 
 leg with the fall. But, occupied wholly with anxiety 
 for his master, he crawled about him, licked him with a 
 mournful howling, and crept under his body, as if to en- 
 deavour to raise him from the ground. 
 
 " ' During the preparations for the funeral, Phileros 
 would not quit the lifeless body of his master, and fol- 
 lowed the procession that bore him to the grave. 
 When he came to the place of burial he set up a lam- 
 entable cry, and remained for five days lying upon the 
 grave. Compelled by the cravings of hunger, he then 
 returned to the house, ate a small quantity of food, after 
 which he ran to the apartment which the child had in- 
 habited, seemed to seek everywhere for his young 
 friend, and in a short time died of grief.' " 
 
 Whether from the manner in which it was read, or 
 Q 31
 
 362 FRANK. 
 
 from the really touching circumstances of the story, 
 Lewis now inclined to the dog of Athens, for he said 
 that Phileros sacrificed himself voluntarily, and died of 
 grief for his master : but that Delta could not help being 
 swallowed up by an earthquake, and that his being 
 found near his master's body, was a proof only that he 
 happened to be near him at the time of the first shock : 
 he could not run away afterward. Frank, however, 
 observed, that Mary's book, and other books, tell of an- 
 imals who have escaped from earthquakes, by running 
 away when they felt the first Symptoms, as is frequently 
 the case before they are noticed by man. 
 
 " Then," observed Lewis, " Delta was to blame for 
 not having snuffed out the approach of the earthquake ; 
 this was a proof of his want of sagacity at least." 
 
 But Frank would not admit this, for he said that no- 
 body could prove, that Delta did not snuff out the dan- 
 ger in time. It was most likely that the dog had warn- 
 ed the boy, and done what he could to make him un- 
 derstand, and to carry him away ; but Frank supposed 
 that Delta could not make the boy comprehend, or fol- 
 low him. 
 
 Lewis answered, that this was supposing the boy to 
 be stupid or obstinate ; but why should they give up the 
 boy, to make out that the fault was not in the dog ? 
 
 Frank contended that this was very fair, because 
 they knew nothing about the boy, and they might sup- 
 pose him to be obstinate and stupid, rather than give up 
 the character of the dog of Herculaneum. 
 
 " What good had the dog of Athens ever done in his 
 life 1 He broke his leg, indeed, by jumping out of a 
 window ; but that did no good to his master ; but the 
 dog of Herculaneum had three times saved his master's 
 life ; and at last was he to be accused of not doing 
 enough, because a foolish boy would not listen to him 
 at the right moment ? Was this just ?" 
 
 " No, indeed !" said Mary. " Poor, poor Delta !" 
 
 Lewis, though he thought he could say more for the 
 dog of Athens, took for his subject Delta, the dog of 
 Herculaneum. 
 
 " GOOD night, mamma," said Mary, as she was going 
 to bed, after the debate about the dogs. " What shall I 
 do about the thumb of my glove 1 Look, ma'am, it is 

 
 FRANK. 363 
 
 burst quite across, I have mended it twice. I cannot go 
 to the lectures to-morrow in such a glove, can I ?" 
 
 " No, my dear : I observed that you had mended it 
 as well as you could, and I have provided another pair 
 for you." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, thank you. Are the gloves in this 
 parcel ?" 
 
 " Yes, and you may open it." 
 
 While Mary was opening the parcel, which had come 
 from the neighbouring town, the engineer said that he 
 must set off very. early in the morning about his busi- 
 ness, and that he should not return perhaps till night. 
 Lewis had a great mind to go with him ; but this could 
 not be, his father said ; and Frank inquired whether he 
 would like to go with them to the lectures. 
 
 Frank's father observed that it was hard upon poor 
 Lewis to force him in his holydays to go to lectures. 
 
 " Not lectures ; only experiments," said Mary, look- 
 ing up from her parcel. 
 
 "Your changing the name makes no difference to 
 him," said Frank's father, smiling. " What does he 
 choose 1" 
 
 Lewis said that as he could not go with his father, 
 he should like to go with Frank to-morrow. That he 
 could not tell whether he should like the lectures or the 
 experiments till he had seen them ; and that if he found 
 them stupid the first day, he would not go the next. 
 He very much regretted that Felix was lame, it would 
 have been so pleasant to have ridden to these lectures ; 
 but he hoped they might walk, which he liked much 
 better than going in a carriage. Frank begged to walk 
 with him ; it was only five miles, and Frank had walk- 
 ed four the other day (which now grew to be four and 
 a half), and back again, without being tired in the 
 least. 
 
 " The gloves fit perfectly well," said Mary. " Look, 
 mamma." 
 
 But her countenance suddenly changed as her eye 
 fixed on the paper in which the gloves had been wrap- 
 ped.' It was a handbill or advertisement, which, in cap- 
 ital letters, announced the arrival of a juggler, who would 
 the next day, at ten o'clock precisely, exhibit wonderful 
 sights with cups and balls, and tricks with cards. He 
 would tell any lady or gentleman what cards they 
 thought of. 
 
 Q2
 
 364 FRANK. 
 
 " Mamma," said Mary, " I wish we could see both the 
 juggler and the experiments, but we cannot ; how un 
 lucky that they are both to be the same morning, and 
 at the same time we cannot have both." 
 
 " Frank," said his father, " would you rather see this 
 juggler's tricks, or the experiments ? You have heard a 
 list of both." 
 
 Frank hesitated. 
 
 " Look neither to the right, nor to the left, my boy, but 
 straight forward ; the question is not which you think 
 Mary would like, nor which you think Lewis would 
 like, nor which you think we should admire you the 
 most for choosing. I ask you to tell me, honestly, which 
 you like best yourself." 
 
 " Honestly, then, papa, the juggler I would rather see, 
 if I am to see but one, and for once I know it is fool- 
 ish, but I cannot help it." 
 
 " Besides, it is not so very foolish, I think," said 
 Mary, " because we can read about Mr. Bright's exper- 
 iments in books, cannot we, mamma '? If we miss see- 
 ing the lecturer, we have the books ; but we cannot see 
 the juggler in a book." 
 
 " Well reasoned, little Miss Mary," said the engineer. 
 
 " So Frank is not foolish, is he, papa V said Mary. 
 
 " He is honest, at all events," said his father, " and able 
 to speak his mind plainly, which I like." 
 
 But Frank said he regretted the experiments, and he 
 wished to see the electrical machine, and to feel the 
 shock. Mary much regretted the airpump and the cat. 
 
 The engineer, who had been pleased with Frank's 
 honesty, and with Mary's reasoning, said, that he hoped 
 he could settle the business to their satisfaction, and 
 manage so that they should see and hear all they wish- 
 ed. He should be up very early in the morning, and 
 must go through the county town, where he could see 
 the lecturer, and would persuade him to put off the ex- 
 periments for the young people till the next day, which 
 would be for his own interest ; as it would be danger- 
 ous for him to come into competition with the juggler, 
 as probably most children, if they were permitted to 
 choose, would make Frank's choice. 
 
 This arrangement promised satisfaction to all parties. 
 The next morning the ever good-natured engineer re- 
 membered their pleasure in the midst of all his own 
 business, and sent back a little pencilled note, which
 
 FRANK. 365 
 
 Frank received at breakfast-time, and which set all 
 hearts at ease. It was as follows: 
 
 " The philosopher has been wise enough to yield the 
 first day to the juggler ; secure that the second will be 
 all his own." 
 
 And so it proved. The young people were at first ex- 
 tremely amused, by seeing the juggler play his feats 
 with cups and balls, and his tricks upon cards ; but when 
 they knew that it was all deception, or when they were 
 told how these tricks were performed, there was an end 
 of the wonder and the pleasure. 
 
 The experiments shown by the natural philosopher 
 were not so amusing, and did not appear so wonderful 
 at first ; but both Frank and Mary agreed that they liked 
 them better and better as they went on, because, as 
 they said, there was no cheating in these ; they were 
 true ; might be of advantage to them afterward in con- 
 versation, in reading; and, as Frank observed, they might 
 perhaps be useful to them in trying experiments after- 
 ward for themselves. 
 
 " For," as he said, " why should not we try experi- 
 ments when we grow up, as well as other people ?" 
 
 Frank was somewhat elated by perceiving that at this 
 first lecture he understood as well, if not more quickly, 
 than Lewis, who was a year older, and who had been 
 at school. But at school his attention had been turned 
 to other subjects, and he had never had an opportunity 
 of seeing any experiments before. 
 
 It had often been proposed, he said, that they should 
 have at his school, some lectures and experiments on 
 natural philosophy ; and, he believed, it was to be next 
 half year. Now that he found these were entertaining, 
 he was determined he would subscribe if the lecturer 
 should come. 
 
 In their walk home, after the first of these lectures, 
 Frank had a great deal of conversation with Lewis 
 about school ; that is to say, Frank asked Lewis a mul- 
 titude of questions, some of which Lewis answered 
 readily and clearly ; but to others he replied with more 
 caution and reserve. On all that concerned the lessons, 
 and the plays, and the hours for work and play, and the 
 laws and punishments, he was full and explicit ; and 
 this was, for the present, quite enough to satisfy Frank. 
 The new plays, or the plays which were new to him, 
 first fixed his curiosity ; he wanted immediately to see 
 31*
 
 366 FRANK. 
 
 and to learn them all. Some of these, Lewis said, he 
 could easily show him ; marbles and ball, for instance, 
 but others could not be played for want of more boys. 
 
 With ball Frank was well acquainted ; but Lewis 
 doubted whether he knew the last fashions of ball-play- 
 ing at school. When the subject of the plays and games 
 was exhausted, Frank went back to the books. 
 
 " But I am very much surprised," said he, " that you, 
 Lewis, do not dislike our books. And I wonder you are 
 so fond of reading English." 
 
 " Why should not I be fond of reading English ? Am 
 not I an Englishman ?" said Lewis, rather bluffly. " What 
 do you take me for?" 
 
 " I do not take you for any thing else," said Frank ; 
 and Lewis's bluff look went off, and with a good-humour- 
 ed smile he said, 
 
 " Oh ! well, go on." 
 
 " I was going to say," continued Frank, " that I was 
 surprised, because Tom told us that schoolboys never 
 read any thing but Latin ; that they have no English 
 books at school, nor time for them." 
 
 " Whoever Tom may be, he is mistaken there," said 
 Lewis, " or he exaggerates ; he may speak of his own 
 school if he pleases, and perhaps he tells 'truth about 
 that ; but, at ours, I know the boys have a library of 
 their own, of excellent English books, to which any 
 subscribe who like it, and almost all do subscribe. We 
 have above a thousand volumes, several entertaining, 
 and 1 assure you, some very valuable books." 
 
 Lewis, after the first angry contradiction of Tom's 
 slander against schools, was careful to tell the exact 
 fact in his own case. He remembered, he confessed, 
 that when he first went to school he had not had any 
 time/or English, or for thinking of entertaining books ; 
 it was as much as ever he could do to get through his 
 Latin lessons and Latin grammar. 
 
 Now he had got over the first difficulty he had more 
 time, and could read when the books were entertaining; 
 on Thursday and Saturday evenings, which were holy- 
 days, he was always happy to have an entertaining 
 book if the day was wet. But Lewis honestly con- 
 fessed that on those holyday evenings, in general, he 
 loved out-of-doors bodily exercise, riding if he could 
 have it ; because, said he, " we have so much to do of 
 hard Latin and Greek work, bodily exercise rests us
 
 PRANK. 367 
 
 best. By-the by, we have a workshop, and carpenter's 
 tools, and two or three lathes. It is a reward to us to 
 work in the workshop, and a great pleasure it is. The 
 idle fellows can never get to the lathe. Now 1 know a 
 boy who, when he first came to our school, was ex- 
 ceedingly idle, and hated Latin, because he had been 
 flogged so often for not having his lessons, at the school 
 where he was before he came to ours. But he loved 
 turning particularly ; and he was so anxious to get to 
 the lathe, that he set about his Latin lessons in earnest, 
 and now he scarcely ever misses one. 
 
 " At school,* continued Lewis, " I like working in 
 the workshop better than reading ; but in the hblydays 
 I like reading best. In the Christmas vacation, in the 
 long winter evenings, I am very fond of reading, espe- 
 cially when I have my sisters or somebody to talk to 
 about books. Then all I knew before I went to school 
 comes back again. That sister, or cousin, or whatever 
 she is of yours, that good-natured little Mary, will be a 
 great pleasure to you in the holydays, and she will love 
 reading enough, and not too much neither ; too much 
 of a good thing, you know, is as bad as too little. So," 
 cried Lewis, turning suddenly and catching hold of the 
 branches of a tree, " what do you think, Frank, of climb- 
 ing this tree V 
 
 " With all my heart," said Frank. 
 
 And after this they had many climbing matches at 
 home, Frank showing that he would not be outdone by 
 his companion, either in spirit or dexterity. 
 
 But, alas ! there could be no riding. Poor Felix was 
 not able to contribute to their amusement, nor they to 
 his relief. Judges, or at least doctors, had differed much 
 as to the mode of his treatment ; one advised that the 
 lame leg should be hung in a sling, and that Felix should 
 be kept in the stable ; another was sure that he would 
 never get well unless he were turned out to grass. The 
 horse and Frank seemed to be of this latter opinion ; 
 therefore Felix was turned out into a paddock near the 
 house, which he had all to himself, lest any other ani- 
 mal should hurt him. Tom and his groom came to see 
 him once, but Felix showed such signs of dislike that 
 they never repeated their visit. Every morning Frank 
 and Mary used to go to see him ; the moment Frank ap- 
 peared at the gate of the field, the horse knew his voice, 
 and neighed in sign of pleasure, and would try to come
 
 36$ PRANK. 
 
 towards him as fast as his sprained shoulder would per- 
 mit. Mary gathered for him handfuls of fresh grass, 
 and he always took them from her with the greatest 
 politeness ; though he had, as Frank observed, the 
 whole field before him all day long. He would now, 
 even rub his nose against Lewis, as if he knew by in- 
 stinct, Mary said, that Lewis was Frank's friend. Some- 
 thing, perhaps, was to be attributed to the piece of bread 
 which Lewis constantly brought him for breakfast. 
 Colonel Birch came on purpose to see Felix ; and cheer- 
 ed his young master with the assurance, that he would 
 certainly get quite well in time." 
 
 In the meanwhile the colonel was well pleased with 
 both the boys for their freedom from selfishness, ob- 
 serving that their chief concern was for the horse and 
 not for themselves. He would have lent them a horse 
 of his own, but, as he could not offer two, the friends 
 did not wish to accept of it. He did, however, what 
 was still better for them ; he allowed them to ride in the 
 riding-house belonging to the barracks. There they 
 had the advantage of some instructions from an excel- 
 lent master, and were amused by seeing various feats 
 of horsemanship, and all the exercise of the manege. 
 Mary could not mix in any of Lewis and Frank's bois- 
 terous plays. Wrestling and boxing she knew were 
 not fit for girls, though, as she heard, they were very 
 good for boys : but she could not like such amusements. 
 There were others, however, more tempting, where 
 agility and spirit were more required than masculine 
 force ; for instance, there was a play called " Follow 
 the leader," for which Frank was eager, and in which 
 Mary longed to join. The leader is to lead the way as 
 fast, and as far, and as long as he pleases, and wherever 
 he chooses, and the more difficult and hazardous the 
 path, the more glorious to follow him. An excellent 
 play this is for boys, but, as Frank's mother said, not 
 for girls, as prudence is more necessary for women than 
 courage ; it stands higher in their list of must wants. 
 The slightest hint of what was right was sufficient for 
 Mary, though she regretted that she could not now play 
 so much with Frank as she used to do ; yet, if it was 
 for his good, she was satisfied ; and, if it made him 
 happy, she was glad ; and often, though she did not 
 play, she had as much pleasure in looking on. She sat 
 by, the little judge of arts and arms ; and she was a
 
 PRANK. 369 
 
 very good judge, especially where Frank was concern- 
 ed: she observed that Lewis was constantly fair and 
 kind to him. Lewis did laugh, to be sure, sometimes, 
 for no mortal could help it, as he said, at the odd way 
 in which Frank made his first attempts at some of his 
 school games ; yet Lewis's way of laughing was never 
 illnatured ; and he kept his word, and laughed no more 
 than was quite good for Frank. 
 
 " He must learn to bear to be laughed at," said he, 
 " before he goes to school." 
 
 Between the times of their boys' plays, they were 
 glad to rest with other amusements and employments, 
 and in these they were always anxious that Mary should 
 share. After having once or twice tried follow the leader, 
 they left it off; they said it could not be well played 
 without more boys. Lewis did not want to have every 
 thing in his school fashion or his own way; he readily- 
 joined in all that Mary and Frank had been doing before 
 he came. He helped them in all their in-doors, and all 
 their out-of-doors work. At their island, when Frank 
 was Robinson Crusoe, and Mary Friday, Lewis was the 
 savage who left the print of his foot in the sand ; he 
 would even be a cannibal if they desired it. At hare 
 and hounds, he transformed himself at pleasure into 
 hare or hound, and, whichever he was, he proved him- 
 self best of his kind. Who could have thought that he 
 had translated Samson Agonistes into Latin, or read 
 CEdipus Tyrannus in Greek 1 
 
 During a clear hard frost of eleven days' continuance, 
 they walked many miles a day: how many the total 
 amounted to, at the end of the eleventh day, the pru- 
 dent historian forbears to record : it is but justice to the 
 accuracy of the pedestrians to state, that when the 
 length of one of these walks was questioned, and when 
 it was in consequence measured with the engineer's 
 way-wiser, it was found to be a quarter of a mile and 
 one furlong more than they had asserted it to be. With- 
 out insisting, however, upon the wonder and glory of 
 the length of these walks, it is sufficient to say that 
 they were liked by all, and contributed to health, gayety, 
 and good-humour. 
 
 But frost cannot last for ever, or, if it did, we might 
 grow tired of it. Snow, threatening to be a heavy 
 snow, began to fall. 
 
 Q3
 
 '370 
 
 FRAXK. 
 
 "And there must be an end of all our delightful 
 walks !" said Frank. 
 
 But there was some pleasure, Mary thought, even at 
 the moment he spoke, in looking at the feathery flakes 
 as they fell thick and thicker, white on grass, tree, 
 shrubj changing in a few minutes the appear*ice of all 
 things. And Lewis saw, in the snow, the promise of 
 snowballs of prodigious size, " if it would but continue 
 long enough." It did continue long enough. The 
 third morning all was snow as far as they could see. 
 
 When the snow was shovelled from the windows, 
 and from the walk near the house, there was fine diver- 
 sion in making and throwing snowballs, and Frank bore 
 stoutly the pelting of the pitiless storm, proud to prove 
 that he could stand as well even as Lewis, who had 
 stood the snowballs of two winters at school. 
 
 The pelting over, the friends joined in making a ball 
 of enormous size, which at last they could not roll, 
 even with the help of any length of lever which they 
 could employ : leaving it during the night, they next day 
 found it frozen fast to the ground. 
 
 Frank next suggested the making a statue of snow, 
 such as he had seen in one of the vignettes to Bewick : 
 they set about it; legs, arms, trunks, and head they 
 moulded: 
 
 " They work'd, and wonder'd at the work they made." 
 
 But when they attempted to stick the limbs and body 
 together, difficulties increased, and the limbs were dis- 
 torted by'every pinch or squeeze which impatience or 
 awkwardness hazarded. One arm was shrunk to half 
 the size of the other, and the neck absolutely melted 
 away under the warmth of Frank's hands, before the 
 head could be made to stand rightly upon the shoulders ; 
 the delicacy of the face, too, it must be confessed, was 
 damaged in fruitless attempts to put on a becoming hat, 
 which was necessary to hide something misshapen in 
 the top of the head. At last the hat was fixed, and the 
 head firm, the bridge of the nose repaired, and the 
 wasted arm restored. When the whole was finished, 
 the artists went to call their judge and admirer, Mary, 
 who came out shivering, for it was ten degrees below 
 the freezing point : yet, always kind, she came with the 
 best intentions possible, to be pleased. But lo! the
 
 FftAftK. 371 
 
 statue was overturned, and in the midst of the frag- 
 ments stood Frank's dog Pompey. 
 
 " Oh, Pompey ! what have you done !" ! . 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton's magnanimous conduct to his dog 
 Diamond scarcely exceeded Frank's forbearance on this 
 occasion. 
 
 He stood for a moment, in despair ; then playfully 
 pelted Pompey away with the man's head, renewing the 
 charge with the legs and arms, as fast as he could 
 mould them into balls. 
 
 " After all," said Frank, " the face of this snow man 
 was frightful : we will make a better to-morrow." But 
 a thaw came on in the night, and they were forced to 
 abandon their design. 
 
 In the last week of Lewis's holydays, Frank and he 
 were anxious to enjoy a pleasure, of which they had 
 been deprived by the thaw the pleasure of skating. 
 Frank's mother had expressed some fears of the danger 
 of this amusement : but his father, on the contrary side 
 of the question, had observed, that boys must run some 
 hazards, or else they would become cowardly. It was 
 settled that they might skate when a certain watering- 
 place for the horses should be sufficiently hard. It was 
 shallow, and the boys could not easily drown them- 
 selves there, even if the ice should break. This general 
 permission gained, there was but one point unsettled 
 when would the ice be sufficiently hard, and who was to 
 judge of that \ 
 
 One morning, very early for a winter morning, that 
 is, soon after daybreak, Lewis rose and looked out of 
 his windows, then wakened Frank, told him it was a 
 hart frost, and bid him get up and come out and skate, 
 for he was sure that at this time the ice was quite strong 
 enough. Frank was eager to try his new skates ; and 
 though he had some scruples, for he was not clear that 
 he ought to go without having had his father's express 
 permission, he did not tell his friend his doubts, but 
 dressed himself as fast as he could, and followed Lewis, 
 accompanied by his dog Pompey. The dog contented 
 himself with sitting by, watching his master sliding 
 about. Frank had several falls, but he was up again 
 soon, and but little hurt ; and he was so much delighted 
 with the exercise and with his success, that the falls 
 went for nothing. One part of the ice was more ex- 
 posed to the beams of the sun than the rest, and Lewis
 
 372 FRANK. 
 
 warned him that he thought it was in that spot begin- 
 ning to crack. Frank took his advice, and stopped, and 
 began to try how soft and how hard the ice was in dif- 
 ferent places. In the spot on which the sun shone the 
 ice cracked when he struck it, and a large piece fell in. 
 Frank exulted in his own and his friend's prudence, in 
 having stopped in time. 
 
 They took off their skates, and began to walk home- 
 ward, till suddenly Frank perceived that his dog was not 
 following them : he called " Pompey ! Pompey !" but 
 no Pompey came in answer to the call. They went 
 back to look for him, but they could not see him any- 
 where on the road or in the fields. They went to the 
 place where they had been skating, and they heard a 
 noise under the ice ; Pompey had fallen into the hole, 
 and had floated underneath the ice ; they looked in at 
 the hole, and saw him struggling : Frank, exceedingly 
 alarmed, called to him, and stretched his arm as far as 
 ever he could under the ice to reach him, and Pompey 
 made fresh efforts; but he was somehow jammed be- 
 tween stones, or entangled in weeds ; he could not get 
 out, nor could Frank reach him, nor could Lewis. 
 Lewis tied a stone in the corner of his handkerchief, 
 and threw the heavy end into the pool, jerking it under 
 the ice towards the corner where the dog lay, but in 
 vain ; Pompey could not reach it ! once he just caught 
 it, but he let it go when Lewis pulled ; he had no long- 
 er strength to hold it. 
 
 At this instant they heard the bark of a dog in the 
 field next to the road ; and Frank, leaping up on the top 
 of the bank, saw a woodman and his dog crossing the 
 field. Frank called, roared to him, but he was walking 
 away from them, and he plodded on without hearing 
 any thing but his own whistling. Lewis happily recol- 
 lected a whistle he had in his pocket, and he whistled 
 loud and strong : the woodman looked back, and saw 
 the two boys making signals with hats and handker- 
 chiefs, and he came running as fast as he could. When 
 he heard what was the matter, he jumped over the 
 hedge to their assistance, and with his hatchet broke the 
 ice in several places, Frank all the while calling, to beg 
 he would take care not to kill the dog, and pointing with 
 his stick to the spot under which Pompey lay. When 
 this was uncovered, there he lay, indeed ! quite motion- 
 less. The woodman took him up, but no signs of life
 
 PRANK. 373 
 
 appeared. They held him with his head downward, the 
 water poured from his mouth, but no breath, no warmth. 
 The \voodman offered to carry him to his hut in the 
 wood, which was about a mile off, and to lay him before 
 the fire. But Frank thought it best to carry him home 
 to his own good Mrs. Catharine, and home they carried 
 him with all possible expedition. 
 
 Mary, from her window, saw them from afar, and 
 went down to the hall to meet them, eagerly asking 
 what had happened to Pompey, and why Frank carried 
 him. But when she saw his condition, and Frank's 
 sorrowful countenance, she asked no more ; she ran for 
 Mrs. Catharine, and every remedy was tried which the 
 Humane Society advise for the recovery of the drown- 
 ed. Pompey was dried, rubbed with salt, and wrapped 
 in a warm blanket, air was blown into his mouth and 
 nostrils, but for some time no signs of life appeared ; 
 and Frank, Mary, and Lewis, by turns, exclaimed in 
 despair, 
 
 " He is dead ! he is quite dead ! he will never move 
 again !" 
 
 But Mrs. Catharine desired them to be patient: a 
 slight heaving of the breast was seen ; she held a feath- 
 er to the nostrils, the feather moved ; Mary clapped her 
 hands with joy, and Frank exclaimed, " He breathes !" 
 Convulsive twitchings in the legs followed, the eyes 
 opened, and, by degrees, life returning, Pompey recover- 
 ed sufficiently to raise himself up, to know Frank, to 
 wag his tail, and to lick Mrs. Catharine's hand. In the 
 course of an hour he was able to stand, walk, eat, and 
 drink : he was pronounced by Mrs. Catharine to be out 
 of all danger ; and great was the joy of his young mas- 
 ter and his friends on again receiving his caresses. 
 
 No sooner was the dog safe, than Frank's mother be- 
 gan to inquire how he had come into danger, and desired 
 to hear every particular of what had happened. Frank 
 was aware that she would be displeased at his having 
 gone out to skate without distinct permission, and be- 
 fore the safety of the ice had been examined ; but in- 
 stead of endeavouring to excuse himself, he was anx- 
 ious to take his full share of blame. His father decreed, 
 as a punishment for their impatience and imprudence, 
 that they should not skate again during the remainder 
 of Lewis's holydays. Lewis seemed more sorry for 
 Frank than for himself, for he thought, and repeatedly 
 32
 
 374 FRANK. 
 
 said, that he had been the means of bringing him into 
 this scrape. 
 
 But whatever disappointment or punishment young 
 people suffer together for their faults, while they have 
 the consciousness that they have spoken exactly the 
 truth, have not attempted to shift the blame from them- 
 selves, and have behaved honourably, they are secure 
 of one lasting comfort, that their confidence in each 
 other and their mutual affection will be increased. 
 Even in such slight trials as these, integrity is proved, 
 and the recollection of these childish incidents often 
 lasts through life, and strengthens the friendship of age. 
 
 " Well." said Mary, " though you cannot skate, you 
 can walk, and I can walk with you." 
 
 " And mamma says she will walk with us to the wood- 
 man's, to thank him for saving Pompey," said Frank; 
 " we will take Pompey with us, to thank him for him- 
 self. But first, Mary, I have something to say to you 
 and Lewis about a plumcake." 
 
 Frank's mother had promised him a large iced plum- 
 cake for " twelfth-night." We presume that none of 
 our young readers are unacquainted with the joyful rites 
 of twelfth-night, with the drawing of lots for king and 
 queen, and for all the various personages who are to 
 support, through that evening, whatever character falls 
 to their lot. The name and description of each charac- 
 ter intended for their twelfth night, Frank and Mary 
 had already drawn out ; they had written them delicate- 
 ly on little billets, and each billet had moreover its mot- 
 to, and each billet was rolled up and thrown into the hat, 
 ready to hand round with the essential accompaniments 
 of iced sections of plumcake. 
 
 That cake was not yet made ; but Mrs. Catharine had 
 this day looked out the materials ; the sugar, and the 
 plums, the citron, &c., were all on the table in her room, 
 and she was just going to begin her work. But Frank 
 now proposed to Mary and Lewis that they should give 
 up this cake, and give the money which it would have 
 cost to the poor woodman who had saved Pompey. 
 The cake, as Mrs. Catharine had informed Frank, would 
 cost about a guinea ; and his mother told him she would 
 give him this money instead of the cake, if he chose it, 
 and if they all agreed to it. With one accord it was de- 
 cided that the cake, even the iced plumcake, and the 
 twelfth-night cake, should be given up; and Frank,
 
 FRANK, 375 
 
 Mary, and Lewis ran to stop Mrs. Catharine's hand. 
 She was much surprised, and at first disappointed, when 
 she found .her hand stopped, and heard that there was 
 to be no cake ; but her countenance recovered from its 
 consternation when she learned that the iced cake was 
 to turn into a warm coat for Pompey's deliverer. She 
 much approved of this, however she regretted, for her 
 own share, the pleasure she would have had in making 
 it for them : and still she thought that there might be a 
 seed cake, or a plain cake, for the young people on the 
 twelfth night. 
 
 No ; they would not consent to this. Frank said that 
 whatever they did should be quite honestly done ; they 
 must give up something, or else, they said, it would be 
 only pretending to be generous. Frank's mother, who 
 had upon all occasions endeavoured to instil this prin- 
 ciple, was glad to see that he applied it of his own ac- 
 cord. She put the guinea into his hand, and they walked 
 to the woodman's : he was not at his cottage, but they 
 found him at work in the wood, and Pompey carried 
 him the guinea between his teeth, holding it very fast 
 till Frank ordered him to surrender it. It is said, but 
 we do not vouch for the truth, that Pompey immediately 
 knew the woodman again, and wagged his tail and lick- 
 ed hands in token of gratitude. They forgot that Pom- 
 pey had been more than half drowned when his ac- 
 qaintance with the woodman first commenced, and that 
 he had been quite senseless at the time when the essen- 
 tial service of his extricating him from the ice had been 
 accomplished. But let this rest : for the honour of 
 Pompey we wish to believe it if it be possible. We 
 pass on to other matters. 
 
 Mary had now completely forgotten all she had for- 
 merly heard of Lewis's learning, for he never talked 
 of his Latin or Greek ; and whatever else he knew 
 came out only when it could assist them, and just as 
 much as they wanted, and no more. 
 
 One day, when Mary was looking at the prints of the 
 French fairy tales with Frank, in the Cabinet des Fees, 
 and was trying to translate the words which were at 
 the bottom of each print, and when she came to one 
 sentence of which she could make nothing, Lewis 
 helped her, and then, for the first time, they found out 
 that he understood French " better than she did, a great 
 deal."
 
 373 FRANK. 
 
 He had learned, he said, all he knew of it from one of 
 his sisters before he went to school, and afterward 
 kept it up in the holydays. 
 
 Another morning, after having shown him their Ro- 
 man emperors, and British kings and queens, and taken 
 him to look at the " Stream of Time," Lewis said he 
 had never seen it before, but he quickly understood it, 
 and soon assisted them in using it. They perceived 
 that he knew a great deal more of history than they 
 did, and they found that it was all clear in his head ; 
 he knew what empires and nations came first, and what 
 followed in the history of the world. "Whenever Frank 
 and Mary were at a difficulty, he was ready to assist 
 them, either in history or geography. He knew what 
 people inhabited the different parts of Europe and Asia, 
 in ancient and in modern times. He made Frank un- 
 derstand what often puzzles children how the Romans 
 seemed to turn into the Italians, the Gauls into the 
 French, &c. ; he helped them in making out how ancient 
 and modern history follow, or may be made to follow 
 each other, for this he knew better than is common with 
 boys of his age. 
 
 He helped them to make for each century a sort of 
 skeleton map of history, in which should be written at 
 first only a very few of the principal names of the most 
 civilized nations, and then of the celebrated men ; each 
 century should have its sheet of paper. Such maps had 
 been made for him, and he had made some for himself, 
 and had found them useful. 
 
 Frank liked to do this, provided Lewis would write the 
 names, because he could write faster than they could. 
 
 " Shall we tell him," whispered Mary, " our play of 
 contemporaries, or would he think it too foolish t 
 
 Far from thinking it foolish, Lewis entered into it with 
 great spirit, and made out some very entertaining par- 
 ties of ancients and moderns, with droll appropriate di- 
 alogues ; and whenever he found that he went beyond 
 what Frank or Mary knew, he showed them where they 
 could find all that he had learned. 
 
 " But how could you learn so much history !" said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Very easily," replied Lewis, " for I was exceedingly 
 happy when I was learning it." 
 
 Lewis paused, for, as they saw, some recollection 
 touched him with pain as well as pleasure. Mary and
 
 PRANK. 377 
 
 Frank stood silent while he went to his father's writing- 
 desk, which was open on the table, and took from it a 
 miniature picture in a black case. Showing the picture 
 to them, he seemed as if he was going to say something, 
 yet said nothing. 
 
 " It is a very good-natured, sensible countenance," 
 said Frank. " I like it." 
 
 " So do I," said Mary : "it looks like a very old man." 
 
 " Yes," said Lewis, " he was past eighty when that 
 picture was drawn." 
 
 " Eighty !" said Mary. " I love old people when they 
 are good-natured, and I am sure, whoever this is, he is 
 good-natured, for both his eyes and his mouth look 
 smiling." 
 
 "Who is it?" said Frank. 
 
 ' "My grandfather, that was," said Lewis; "and he 
 was the most good-natured, the kindest person in the 
 world. I wish you had known him, you would have loved 
 him so much, and he would have loved you; he was 
 always fond of having young people about him, and we 
 all of us used to be so glad to go into his room. He had 
 always something ready for each of us when we went 
 to him, either to read to us, or to tell us, of his younger 
 days, or something or other that was delightful; and 
 that made one wish to be as good and to know as much 
 as he did. You asked me how I learned all I know of 
 history. It was he who taught it to me ; and that was 
 what made me like it so much, and learn it, as I told 
 you, so easily. Every morning, before breakfast, he let 
 me come to him in his study. He got up very early, 
 but he sat in his dressing-gown reading or writing till 
 eight, and as soon as the clock struck eight, that was 
 my hour, I used to run down stairs, and there I used to 
 find him in his dear arm-chair ; and he always smiled 
 upon me when I came in ; but I can never see him 
 again !" 
 
 Mary held fast the picture which Lewis was going to 
 shut. "Oh, do let me look at it a little longer!" said 
 she. 
 
 " Who was he most like of anybody I ever have seen ?" 
 said Frank. " Was he like your father ?" 
 
 " Yes, only so much older : his manner was different." 
 
 " Had he a slow or a quick manner ?" said Mary. 
 
 " He was quick and lively yet very gentle and gen- 
 tlemanlike, and remarkably polite ; not mere company 
 32*
 
 378 PRANK. 
 
 politeness, but every day and always, when ai home and 
 to everybody the same, even to us children, and to the 
 poorest people more than to the grandest. The very 
 beggars to whom he gave charity observed and felt that 
 kind manner of grandpapa's. I remember a poor old 
 beggar woman, after he was gone, too, saying, that she 
 would rather have a penny from his hand than a shilling 
 flung to her by another." 
 
 " How we should have loved him," said Mary, " should 
 not we, Frank V 
 
 " Exceedingly ; and you really think he would have 
 liked us," said Frank, " as well as your papa likes us 1" 
 
 " I am sure he would," said Lewis, " for they always 
 liked the same people, and for the same things ; he 
 would have liked your manners, for he liked good-man- 
 ners particularly; and he would have liked your being 
 fond of reading, and listening to all that is going on ; 
 but, above all, he would have liked you for loving one 
 another ; and he would have been glad that I should be 
 here, because he would have seen that you have good 
 principles." 
 
 " But he was not strict, was he ?" said Frank. 
 
 " Strict about learning, or such things T No, not the 
 least," said Lewis. " But he was very strict about prin- 
 ciples very strict about right and wrong." 
 
 " So is my father," said Frank. 
 
 " But was not your grandpapa a clergyman V said 
 Mary, looking again at the dress of the picture. 
 
 " He was," said Lewis. 
 
 " Then he was, I suppose, more serious a great deal 
 than your father, or my father, was not he !" said 
 Frank. 
 
 " I do not think he was more so, except as suited his 
 age, and when serious subjects were mentioned. He 
 was very religious, but that did not make him sad; quite 
 the contrary. He was remarkably cheerful. He used 
 to say good Christians ought to be cheerful, and he made 
 us love religion and not fear it." 
 
 " Just what my father and mother think," said Frank. 
 
 " And what they teach us," said Mary. 
 
 After this conversation Mary told Frank that she had 
 quite settled her mind about Lewis, that she was sure 
 he would make him a good friend, and she begged he 
 would make a friend of him as fast as possible. 
 
 Frank was well disposed to go as fast in friendship as
 
 PRANK/ 379 
 
 Mary desired ; and considerable progress was made, 
 even in the few remaining days of this first visit. But 
 Lewis's father was obliged to take his son away, prom- 
 ising, however, that Lewis should return and spend with 
 them his next Midsummer holydays. 
 
 " Midsummer !" said Frank, sighing. " How long it 
 will be till Midsummer !" 
 
 MIDSUMMER ! Oh, how long it will be before Midsum- 
 mer !" were, if we remember rightly, Frank's last words 
 when we parted fr&m him at Christmas ; but spring did 
 return, and bestowed fresh pleasures; and summer re- 
 turned ; yes, even Mid-summer, and Lewis's holydays 
 and Lewis himself arrived. The two friends met with 
 all the delight they had expected, very uncommon with 
 those who had expected so much. They compared all 
 they had done, and seen, and heard, and read in the in- 
 terval, and they talked, and Mary listened, for two hours 
 without intermission. She, indeed, affirms it was three, 
 and they were not tired at the end of that time, nor had 
 they come to the end of their store of sense and non- 
 sense. 
 
 Lewis inquired whether the time for Frank's going to 
 school was fixed. 
 
 " Yes, after Midsummer, papa says it must be." 
 
 " He goes abroad in autumn," said Mary, " so it must 
 be." 
 
 " And is it fixed to what school he is to go T] said 
 Lewis. 
 
 " Not yet," said Frank, " but it is to be determined 
 to-day, and I will tell you, Lewis, to-morrow. I am 
 going this minute to ask papa something I will not tell 
 either of you what it is." 
 
 He left them, and, after some little time, returned, with 
 raised colour and sparkling eyes. 
 
 "What do you think I have done, Mary!" said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Tell me," said Mary. 
 
 " I have asked papa to let me go to the same school 
 as Lewis, and papa had been thinking of it before, and 
 he and mamma and the engineer went into the study, 
 and studied about it, and it is all settled. Papa is wri 
 ting a letter to the head-master about it this minute.
 
 380 PRANK. 
 
 Mamma said she was very glad that I should have so 
 good a friend as Lewis." 
 
 Lewis was exceedingly glad to hear this. 
 
 " Oh, so am I," said Mary ; " he will be your friend at 
 school, and I will be your friend at home." 
 
 " Yes, always," said Frank, " and all is well and 
 happy." 
 
 " But when are you to go, Frank ?" said Mary. 
 
 " At the end of Lewis's holydays, you know, we shall 
 both go together." 
 
 " Both together," said Mary ; " what shall I do when 
 you are gone, Frank 1" 
 
 " But it will not be for a great while yet," said Frank. 
 " There are a month and three days of Lewis's holydays 
 to come." 
 
 " A month and three days ! then we need not think of 
 it yet, indeed," said Mary. 
 
 " And though I told you it was all settled, I recollect 
 now," said Frank, " that it is not quite certain, because 
 they are not sure that there is a place or abed forme at 
 the school ; and, you know, if there is not room for me 
 I cannot go." 
 
 " Then I hope," cried Mary ; but she checked herself. 
 " No, 1 do not hope ; for since you must go to school, as 
 papa says, it is better that you should go with Lewis. 
 When will the answer to the letter come ?" 
 
 " Not till Thursday at soonest, three days, perhaps 
 four, to wait, before we know how it will be. What a 
 long time !" said Frank. 
 
 The first morning was, indeed, rather long ; for Frank 
 could not settle to any thing, but continually repeated, 
 
 " Mary, when do you think the answer will come, on 
 Thursday or Friday ? What do you think the answer 
 will be, Lewis ]" 
 
 Lewis was inclined to think there would be no place 
 for Frank. It depended upon whether a new boy, 
 whose name he did not know, for whom the place had 
 been engaged, would come to school or not this was a 
 point which Lewis could not decide therefore it was 
 better to do something in the interval to lessen the im- 
 patience and pain of suspense. Lewis had, during these 
 holydays, a theme to write. The subject : " Which of 
 all the Roman and Grecian heroes in Plutarch's Lives 
 do you prefer ?" Here was ample room for thought and 
 debate. Lewis consulted Frank, and Frank felt his
 
 PRANK. 381 
 
 own ignorance, and Plutarch's Lives were now looked 
 over with great eagerness ; each took a volume, and 
 each read aloud whatever struck him at the moment 
 with admiration : Mary listening while she worked, or 
 rather while she sat with her work in her hand. And 
 now she inclined in favour of this hero, and now of 
 that. 
 
 Lewis could not decide quickly, because it was a 
 matter of great consequence to him. He had many 
 competitors, who were very clever boys, and who 
 would examine the merits of the hero of each theme ; 
 and he must look over Plutarch's Lives again and 
 again more carefully another day. Frank desired to 
 help his friend in examining the lives that were to be 
 compared, and Lewis kindly accepted his assistance ; 
 they read, and gave their reasons in favour or against 
 each action and character, and having an immediate 
 object, their interest was kept constantly alive. Thus 
 Frank's attention turned from childish objects to those 
 that were more manly; and he was now as much inter- 
 ested in the real history of illustrious men, as he used 
 to be in mere amusing tales. His admiration was ex- 
 cited by the great and good actions of which he read : 
 and as he was pressed at the same time to determine 
 which were truly good and great, many questions about 
 right and wrong, honour and honesty, resolution and 
 obstinacy, courage and rashness, occurred, which were 
 debated between him and his friend Lewis ; and though 
 they were only boyish arguments, argued but imper- 
 fectly, yet Frank's understanding strengthened by this 
 exercise, as his body strengthened by the wrestling, 
 running, and climbing which they had out of doors. 
 
 Colonel Birch, who was always ready to contribute 
 to their amusement, took them to see some of his men 
 firing at a mark ; he taught them how to prime, load, 
 and fire a pistol themselves. Another day he took 
 them to an archery meeting ; he gave Frank a bow and 
 three good arrows. These were a great delight, more 
 especially because Mary could join in this amusement. 
 The bow, though rather large, was not too strong for 
 her to draw, and her dexterity supplied her want of 
 strength. 
 
 The weather was cool enough to permit of riding; 
 and, at Frank's and Lewis's age, it must be difficult to 
 find the weather that can prevent a good gallop Felix
 
 382 FRANK. 
 
 had now quite recovered, and Frank's father had suffi- 
 cient confidence in Lewis to trust him to ride his own 
 favourite horse confidence, of which neither he nor 
 the horse had ever reason to repent. 
 
 During the very hot weather Frank took great pleas- 
 ure in swimming, and now he could swim well enough 
 to try the experiment of the kite, which he had so long 
 desired to try. He found the passage in Franklin's 
 essays, and Lewis and he read it together, with the 
 eagerness with which people read that which they want 
 immediately to put in practice. 
 
 " The ordinary method of swimming is reduced to the 
 act of rowing with the arms and legs, and is, conse- 
 quently, a laborious and fatiguing operation, when the 
 space of water to be crossed is considerable. There is 
 a method in which the swimmer may pass to great dis- 
 tances with much facility by means of a sail. 
 
 " This discovery I fortunately made by accident, and 
 in the following manner : 
 
 " When I was a boy, I amused myself one day flying 
 a paper kite, and approaching the bank of a pond, 
 which was near a mile broad, I tied the string to a 
 stake, and the kite ascended to a very considerable 
 height above the pond while I was swimming. In a 
 little time, being desirous of amusing myself with my 
 kite, and enjoying at the same time the pleasure of 
 swimming, I returned ; and loosing from the stake the 
 string, with the little stick which was fastened to it, 
 went again into the water, where I found that, lying 
 on my back and holding the stick in my hands, I was 
 drawn along the surface of the water in a very agree- 
 able manner. Having then engaged another boy to 
 carry my clothes round the pond, to a place which I 
 pointed out to him on the other side, I began to cross 
 the pond with my kite, which carried me quite over 
 without the least fatigue, and with the greatest pleasure 
 imaginable. I was only obliged occasionally to halt a 
 little in my course to resist its progress, as it appeared 
 that by following too quickly I lowered the kite too 
 much ; by doing which occasionally I made it rise again. 
 I have never since that time practised this singular mode 
 of swimming, though I think it not impossible to cross 
 in this manner from Dover to Calais. The packet-boat, 
 however, is still preferable." 
 
 In this last sentiment, Frank's mother most heartily
 
 FRANK. 383 
 
 agreed. She now, however, consented that Frank 
 should try his experiment, from which he had so long 
 refrained in obedience to her, and to fulfil his promise. 
 
 His father, for further security, was present at the 
 trial. It should be observed, that the part of the pond, 
 across which Frank made this first trial, was not of 
 greater width than he could have easily crossed by 
 swimming in his usual manner. On this his father in- 
 sisted. Frank, kite in hand, went into the water, and, 
 exactly as Franklin directed, lying on his back and hold- 
 ing the little stick to which the string of the kite was 
 fastened, was drawn along by his flying sail, and carried 
 quite over, "without the least fatigue, and with the 
 greatest pleasure imaginable." 
 
 How far this mode of sailing-swimming could be ap- 
 plied to use, was a question which was warmly discuss- 
 ed, and very differently judged, according to the age 
 and experience of those who hoped or feared. 
 
 All this time no answer came from the master of 
 Lewis's school ! The delay was surprising ! The sus- 
 pense would have been intolerable but for the constant 
 employments which filled every hour. Colonel Birch 
 was almost as anxious as they could be for the answer 
 to the letter : he was very desirous that Frank should 
 now go to school. 
 
 " Well, boys, have you had a letter ?" said he, coming 
 in one morning about the hour when the post usually 
 arrived. 
 
 " No, sir," said Frank, " the post has not come in yet, 
 and we are going out with our bows and arrows to pre- 
 vent us from being impatient. This was Mary's inven- 
 tion. Mamma will send for us if there is a letter." 
 
 And this morning they were sent for. They found 
 their father, mother, and Colonel Birch, holding consul- 
 tation over a letter which lay on the table. The letter 
 began with an apology for the delay of the master's 
 answer. This had been occasioned, he said, by his 
 having been kept in uncertainty by the friends of a boy 
 to whom the vacant place had been promised. They 
 had, however, now decided to send him, and there was 
 no place for Frank this year. 
 
 All stood round the table in silence, each reading the 
 letter again by turns. But it could not be changed: 
 and after having read it, each laid it down again. Colo- 
 nel Birch first broke silence.
 
 384 PRANK. 
 
 " My good friends, I see what the end of this will 
 be," said he, " and I am very sorry for it ! you will 
 keep Frank at home another year, and if you do, it will 
 spoil him. You cannot help it, my dear madam, you 
 cannot help it I know you would do every thing for 
 him that the best of mothers can do for the best of 
 boys ; but that is not sufficient, I mean that it is too 
 much. He is made a great deal too happy every thing 
 goes too smoothly and easily with him at home to make 
 a man of him. If you have given him good principles, 
 as I know you have, trust to them. He must see good 
 and bad at every school, and wherever he goes in the 
 world; and the sooner he learns to choose between 
 them, and make his own way, the better. 
 
 "Very true, my dear madam. Yes, my dear sir," 
 continued Colonel Birch, half listening to something 
 Frank's father and mother attempted to say, to assure 
 him that they agreed perfectly in these sentiments. " 1 
 know you agree with me in theory, but in practice, 
 when it comes to the point, I doubt your resolution : 
 you will make fine excuses to yourselves you will 
 say that you must find the best school possible, and 
 the best friends possible for your boy, and so forth. I 
 am sorry he cannot find a place at this best of schools," 
 added he, looking at Lewis, " for I know the value of a 
 good friend early in life, a friend a year or two older and 
 wiser than one's self; I had one in your father, Frank. 
 But still, my boy, you have your friend here, safe by the 
 heart-strings ; and whether you go to the same school 
 for this year with him or not, matters little : your father 
 and I, when we were boys, were separated for three 
 long years what did that signify * We met again, and 
 found our hearts and heads the same, or rather better, 
 if I remember right, for my own share, and we were 
 as good friends as if we had never parted. Come, 
 come, my boys, think no more about it." 
 
 Frank and Lewis tried to think that it was all for 
 the best. Frank said that he was ready to go to any 
 school his father and mother pleased, and as soon as 
 they pleased : he was sure he should never find such 
 another friend as Lewis. " But," added he, " I shall 
 always, I hope " 
 
 What it was that he hoped was lost in a choking in 
 his throat ; but, though the words were inaudible, they
 
 TRANK. 385 
 
 were understood, it seems : for Colonel Birch immedi- 
 ately answered 
 
 " That I am sure you will, my boy. So now to what 
 school will you send him, and when V 
 
 " I have two in view, under consideration," said his 
 father, smiling, as he spoke, at Colonel Birch's look of 
 impatience. 
 
 " Under consideration ! toss tip and decide. Any 
 school is better for him than keeping him longer at 
 home; especially as you are obliged to go abroad. 
 Any, the worst public school, is better for a boy of his 
 age than the best home." 
 
 This was going too far this could not be allowed ; 
 and, to do the good colonel justice, this was more than 
 he meant ; the assertion was made in the warmth of 
 argument, in his zeal for what he thought Frank's 
 advantage. As he cooled, he found there had been no 
 occasion for his heat. Frank's father was not only 
 willing, but prepared to do all that he wished. 
 
 It may be remembered that, in the preceding sum- 
 mer, Frank's father took him to a beautiful park in the 
 neighbourhood, called Bellombre. Lord and Lady Chep- 
 stow, the possessors of this place, who had been for 
 some time abroad, were now at home, and so was their 
 son Horace Granville, who had been at one of the prin- 
 cipal English schools, and who had a party of his young 
 companions with him to spend the holydays at Bellom- 
 bre. Frank's father and mother had delayed a long- 
 promised visit to Lord and Lady Chepstow till this time, 
 on purpose that they might give Frank an opportunity 
 of seeing these young people ; and now there was an 
 additional motive, that they might judge by what these 
 boys were, and by what they heard of their master, 
 which school they should like best for Frank. 
 
 The party was quickly arranged. There were Miss 
 Granvilles, and Mary was included in the invitation. 
 They all went to spend a fortnight at Bellombre. The 
 drive there, though neither by the wood nor glen which 
 Frank had formerly described to Mary, was thought 
 delightful, and the superb park was equal even to what 
 Frank's imagination had expected, from his first peep 
 between the paling. The house was magnificent. They 
 were shown to a splendid library, where they found 
 Lord and Lady Chepstow, and, among several other 
 people, a boy of about fifteen or sixteen, whom Frank 
 R 33
 
 386 FRANK. 
 
 imagined to be young Granville, and was surprised to 
 see that he was rather mean-looking ; but Frank found 
 his mistake, when Lord Chepstow turned and said to 
 the boy, " Speliman, where is Horace V 
 
 Spellman said that Mr. Granville had been out fishing; 
 he was very wet very late very sorry but he was 
 sure he would soon be down. 
 
 In the meantime Spellman came forward to the young 
 people ; he showed Mary where to put her bonnet ; he 
 took them to the window, and pointed out the best view 
 of the park ; told how many miles the park was round, 
 and told them the names of all the portraits in the room, 
 and which was the first Lord Chepstow, and which the 
 last, and which the present lord, and which was Horace. 
 " Wonderfully like," said he, " only not near so hand- 
 some. Is not it?" Frank had never yet seen him, 
 therefore he could not decide. 
 
 " Never seen Horace Granville ! but then you've a 
 great pleasure to come. Only you must not be sur- 
 prised to find him a little shy at first. It is a great pity; 
 Lady Chepstow is always complaining of his being so 
 silent but it goes off; you'll like him amazingly when 
 you know him that is, if he likes you, which I am sure 
 he will, for he told me his mother desired him to take 
 you under his protection. People think he is terribly 
 proud, but it is all bashfulness. Surprisingly bashful 
 he is, considering how clever he is, and it is so odd, after 
 his being at a great school, and every thing, but he goes 
 back to it always at home, which is very provoking to 
 his father but I am a prodigious favourite, and must 
 always be here in the holydays to talk for him, espe- 
 cially when there's strangers, as Lady Chepstow says, 
 so we get on famously. Horace could never do with- 
 out me !" 
 
 Spellman had not time to say more, for the door burst 
 open, and in came, laughing at some jest unknown, a 
 party of well-dressed men-boys, as Mary called them, 
 who, except a bob of the head each to Lady Chepstow 
 as they passed, seemed regardless of everybody but 
 .themselves. They herded together in a window ! their 
 merriment ceased, and they stood eying the company, 
 the door still left open, till another followed, very gen- 
 tleman-like, cold, and quiet ; he was a boy of about six- 
 teen, but he looked quite like a man, and a very serious 
 man.
 
 FRANK. 387 
 
 " Horace Granville himself" whispered Spellman. 
 Frank and Lewis were presented to him, and he to them, 
 by Lord Chepstow, who said that he was sure his 
 son Horace would always be particularly glad to see 
 Frank : but Horace did not look particularly glad to see 
 him now. At once bashful and proud, he stood greatly 
 distressed, and said nothing ; but after a reconnoitering 
 glance down upon Frank, he held out his hand gracious- 
 ly to him, bowed his head coldly to Lewis, but still said 
 nothing. Lady Chepstow asked if there was not some 
 hope that Frank would go to the same school with her 
 son. This suggested an easy subject of conversation 
 to Horace, but he did not take it. After standing a few 
 minutes in this agony of silence, he turned short about, 
 walked abruptly away, and joined the herd in the win- 
 dow, leaving Frank and Lewis again to Spellman's care. 
 About this time Mary was carried off by one of the 
 higher powers to some distant region, where, with the 
 governess and the Miss Grarivilles, she was to be invis- 
 ible. 
 
 Spellman resumed his office of Granville's talker and 
 flatterer. He whispered to Frank, " Though Mr. Gran- 
 ville said nothing, I know he liked your first look ama- 
 zingly. I know his eye, if anybody does." 
 
 " Can you tell me," said Frank; " who those people are, 
 who are standing at the window 1" He was at a loss 
 whether to call them boys or men, he therefore called 
 them people. 
 
 " People ! indeed," said Spellman, smiling. " One 
 of them is Cressingham, son of Lord Cressingham, of 
 Cressingham, or his hand would not be on Granville's 
 shoulder. The other, with the broad back, is Power, 
 son of the member Oh ! you don't know him. There 
 is Power, the father, the old man with the great seals 
 to his watch, and young Power is expected to be very 
 rich we are very fond of him. Then the other, the 
 thin little fellow in the window with his hand on his hip, 
 is Shaw ; he is expected to be very clever. His father 
 is here often, because he is known now to be the author 
 of ' The Conflagration of Moscow ;' and he is supposed 
 to be the author of the ' Chit-chat Club ;' and 'Bath 
 Buns' and ' Bath Idols' are given to him too, but he 
 denies them." 
 
 " I should like to see ' The Conflagration of Moscow,' " 
 said Lewis. 
 
 R3
 
 FRANK. 
 
 * It's on the little table there," said Spellman, " and 
 it's very fine, certainly ; but, for my own share, I like the 
 ' Chit-Chat Club' better, it's so amazingly entertaining, 
 'or everybody in the world is in it. But you would not 
 understand a word of it without the key." 
 
 " But what are Bath idols and Bath buns, sir ?" said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Oh, bless you ! the bitterest thing and the sweetest !" 
 replied Spellman. " But you would not taste it at all. 
 It's nothing unless you know the people ; and," added 
 he, with a smile of superiority, " you are not come quite 
 to the age for satire yet I beg your pardon." 
 
 " Are all those in the window, schoolfellows of Mr. 
 Granville ?" said Frank. 
 
 "No: only one, Cressingham ; the two others are 
 from some other school, I forget which." 
 
 " And are you a schoolfellow of Mr. Granville's V said 
 Frank. 
 
 " No : 1 am his home-fellow," said Spellman, some 
 slight embarrassment appearing in his voice and laugh, 
 though not in his unblushing face. He added, " 1 am 
 homebred, like yourself. But, dinner ! dinner !" 
 
 At dinner Frank was desired to sit by Mr. Granville, 
 who was at the head of the side-table, at which were all 
 his companions, and some other persons. Granville 
 was very attentive to Frank, more so than to anybody 
 else, silently taking care that he had all he wanted. 
 Officious Spellman seeing this, offered him continually 
 this and that, and the other, and every thing he did not 
 want : so that Frank had no piece till Granville said, 
 
 " Leave him to me, Spellman." 
 
 Frank hoped that he should now hear what other 
 people were talking about. 
 
 Much was said about soups, and fish, and sauce ; he 
 was much surprised that boys, or young men, could 
 know so much about different dishes. None of these 
 schoolboys, however, gobbled like Tom. They all ate 
 like gentlemen, but they talked more like cooks. Frank 
 was not sure whether they were in reality, or only 
 pretended to be, epicures. Certainly they were not 
 ashamed, but proud of their love of eating, and their 
 taste for wines. When hunger abated and plates stood 
 still, there was much said by Power, and Shaw, and 
 Spellman, of fish that had been caught by them, and of 
 fishing and boating parties which they had or were to
 
 PRANK. 389 
 
 have. Frank liked this, but each spoke of his own 
 feats, and Frank thought they did not seem much to 
 care for each other, or to expect to be cared for ; they 
 were companions, but not friends. Frank observed 
 that Shaw and Power, though they were schoolfellows, 
 as Spellman had told him, appeared to take pleasure in 
 taunting each other their characters were plain enough 
 to him. Shaw was clever, anxious to show his wit, 
 and make diversion of everybody. Power was tyran- 
 nical, rather stupid, and proud of his father's fortune. 
 
 Frank wished that they would not talk so much, that 
 he might hear Granville, about whose character he felt 
 more curiosity. But, though Granville had by this time 
 got over his bashfulness, so far as to have regained the 
 power of speech, yet he used that power but sparingly. 
 Frank could not tell whether he was silent from timidity 
 or from pride. 
 
 Of Cressingham he did not at first think much. Cres- 
 singham had a headache, and appeared cross, to Spell- 
 man in particular, who tried to please him in vain. 
 Even when he spoke of the Cressinghams of Cressing- 
 ham, he would not be pleased. Whenever Spellman 
 praised Granville, or any thing at Bellombre, Cressing- 
 ham always made some sarcastic answer. It almost 
 seemed as if he disliked Granville, though he was said 
 to be his friend. Spellman was a little too fond of flat- 
 tering, perhaps, but Cressingham appeared unjust to 
 him, and much too severe, almost rude. But of these 
 things, and of the character of Granville especially, 
 Frank changed his mind several times during the course 
 of dinner. 
 
 In the silence between the first and second courses, 
 Spellman feeling himself called upon to say something, 
 asked Frank if he knew what was meant by a fag ? 
 Frank said that he did ; Lewis had explained it to him. 
 
 " It is very lucky for somebody," said Spellman, 
 " that little Drake died last month of the measles, for I 
 have a notion that somebody will get into his shoes." 
 
 Frank looked puzzled, till it was explained to him 
 that Drake had been Mr. Granville's fag at school, and 
 that getting into his shoes meant succeeding to him, or 
 standing in his place. 
 
 After Shaw had laughed more than sufficiently at the 
 'ittle greenhorn's ignorance of this expression, and then 
 laughed again, until the back of his chair shook, at 
 33
 
 390 FRANK. 
 
 Frank's not knowing what was meant even by a green* 
 horn, Spellman went on, 
 
 " You will go to school under famous good protec- 
 tion," said he to Frank ; " many a boy will envy you ; 
 a cousin of my own, in particular, I know would like to 
 be Granville's fag, of all things, if he had been lucky 
 enough." 
 
 " That cousin of yours must be very particular, in 
 truth, if he likes, of all things, to be a fag. It is the 
 best subject of congratulation I ever heard ; 1 will write 
 a Pindaric ode upon it," said Shaw. 
 
 *' Would you rather be Granville's fag or Granville's 
 flatterer ?" said Cressingham. 
 
 " Not a fair question," said Shaw, " for one of the 
 places is not vacant, you know, and you would not have 
 him disoblige any of the present company by showing 
 he wants to step into his shoes before his time." 
 
 Frank was a little confused, but he answered, 
 
 " I will never be a flatterer, if that is what you mean 
 I know I must be a fag." 
 
 " Must !" pursued Shaw. " But, you lucky little dog, 
 do not you rejoice at being Mr. Granville's fag]" 
 
 " No," said Frank, " I do not rejoice at it ; I would 
 rather not be anybody's fag." 
 
 Granville's face clouded over, but the cloud passed off. 
 
 " Who would be anybody's fag if they could help it 1" 
 cried Power ; " but you will find you cannot help your- 
 self, my little fellow. There is fagging at all schools, 
 my lad." 
 
 " Not at all schools, not at mine," said Lewis. 
 
 " No fagging at your school !" cried Shaw ; " and pray, 
 where is it situate, lying, or being 1 Somewhere in the 
 county of Utopia, I guess, or the parish of Lubberland. 
 Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Frank felt vexed at his loud laugh, but Lewis was not 
 vexed ; he waited till the laugh was over, which he knew 
 could not last for ever, though it seemed unextinguish- 
 able, like the laughter of Homer's rude gods. When 
 Lewis had quietly established his fact, Power took up 
 the cause against him, and said, 
 
 " If there is no fagging at your school I would not 
 go to it." 
 
 "No, because you are a great boy," said Lewis; "if 
 you were a little boy, you would be very glad to go to, 
 it."
 
 FRANK. 391 
 
 " I am sure I should," said Frank, sighing. 
 
 Granville's face clouded over again. 
 
 " Comfort yourself," said Cressingham, " for though 
 you must be a fag, you need not be a flatterer." 
 
 " But why must there be fags ?" persisted Frank. 
 
 " Because there must," said Power. 
 
 " The law of the lion, and good law," said Shaw. 
 " Hey, Granville 1" 
 
 " For lions," answered Granville. 
 
 " What, are you against fagging, and you one of the 
 great boys V said Power. 
 
 " It is a fine thing to be a great boy," said Shaw, " but 
 Granville looks as if he would have been more obliged 
 to you if you had called him a great man." 
 
 " Which he will be," said Spellman, in a low voice, 
 quite distinct enough to be heard. 
 
 " And if you were a great man," said Power, " would 
 you put down fagging V 
 
 " Stay till he is, and then he will tell you," said Shaw. 
 
 Power stuck to his question with little variation, re- 
 peating, " Granville, are you for or against fagging 1 do 
 tell us." 
 
 Granville was against tyrannical fagging, he said, but 
 in moderate bounds he thought it a good custom. It 
 taught boys to bear and to obey ; he had been a fag him- 
 self, and he thought it had done him good ; it hadjuade a 
 man of him. 
 
 Some conversation followed as to what was tyranni- 
 cal fagging. Upon the whole, Granville acknowledged 
 it was difficult to prevent tyranny where there was 
 power. 
 
 " A good pun against you, Power," interrupted Shaw. 
 
 Granville looked above a pun, and concluded, as Pow- 
 er bending forward would have his sentence, " It never 
 can be abolished, and therefore there is no use in talk- 
 ing more about it." 
 
 Upon this last point Lewis differed from him, because, 
 as he re-urged, fagging had been abolished at his school, 
 and in others which he named. 
 
 Now Granville could not bear contradiction, at least 
 he could not bear it at home ; he had been forced to 
 bear it at school. But when Spellman was by, and 
 ready to assent to, and support all he said, and to won- 
 der that anybody could be of another opinion, his first 
 fault of temper returned. The moment Lewis differed
 
 392 FRAWK. 
 
 from him, he looked down, proudly displeased thai a lit- 
 tle boy, or at least a boy who was not of his age, or of 
 the first forms, should venture to contradict him, to rea- 
 son, and to reason better than he did. This was too 
 provoking : Granville reasoned no longer, but repeated 
 dryly, that fagging never would be abolished. 
 
 Lewis observed, that if people had thought so about 
 the slave trade, probably that never would have been 
 abolished. 
 
 " We must keep clear of politics," said Spellman. 
 There was a pause, and then Frank, with some hesita- 
 tion, said, " I don't quite understand Mr. Granville." 
 Granville did not explain. 
 
 " You will quite understand when you go to school," 
 said Shaw : " meantime, take some sauce to your pud- 
 ding." 
 
 " While you can get it," added Spellman, laughing. 
 " I thought you had been on the other side of the 
 question," said Frank, looking up in Granville's face. 
 
 " You thought wrong then, my little gentleman," said 
 Granville. 
 
 Frank said he was sorry for it, and he wished to say 
 more ; but not used to speak before so many boys, was 
 overawed : however, he ventured to say that he did not 
 see why fagging should not be abolished ; he did not see 
 why great boys should trample on little boys. 
 
 " You may not see why," said Power, " but they will 
 always do it." 
 
 " Not always, not with us," said Lewis ; " they are 
 not allowed." 
 
 "Who can hinder them, I want to know?" asked 
 Power. 
 
 " The master, the laws, and ourselves," answered 
 Lewis ; " fagging is abolished with us, and I hope it will 
 be so everywhere soon." 
 
 " You may hope, but it will not," said Cressingham, 
 " though I am not sure but it ought." 
 
 " I am sure it ought not," said Power ; " that would be 
 too hard upon me, too bad, just come up last year to be 
 master, after being fag so many years." 
 
 Frank looked at him, and felt that he should be sorry 
 to be his fag. Shaw quickly interrupted the look, nod- 
 ded to him, and said, 
 " You are right there, my little lad." 
 " What do you mean !" said Power.
 
 FRANK, 393 
 
 ** You know very well what I mean the hot poker 
 and the eyebrows. Remember your fag Simpson." 
 
 " Oh, tell us, will you 1" said Spellman. 
 
 " Oh ! we must not tell tales out of school." 
 
 " Tell what you will," said Power, " but do not forget 
 what you did to Hamilton when he did not clean your 
 shoes to please you ; or rather what you could not do, 
 for the little spirit got the better of you, I think." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Shaw, " I made him lick 
 the shoe at last ; I bent the proud Hamilton back to it, 
 or I would have seen why ; and a good joke it was, and 
 horrible faces he made ; and he said it was poison. If 
 the shoe was not clean, it was his own fault, you know. 
 But the hot poker was too bad, and the flogging you 
 gave him for not lying still under it." 
 
 " It was his own fault if he had lain still as I bid 
 him, he would not have been burned or beaten either," 
 said Power. 
 
 " For shame ! gentlemen," exclaimed Granville, in a 
 tone so much louder than usual, that some of the heads 
 of the large table turned to see what was the matter. 
 
 " Was that Horace's voice !" said Lady Chepstow. 
 
 " It was, ma'am," replied Horace. 
 
 " I hope Horace is taking care of the gentlemen at 
 that table," said Lord Chepstow. 
 
 " Excellent care, my lord," answered Spellman. 
 
 In the same instant Granville held up his glass to 
 Shaw, who answered by a nod, and holding up his glass, 
 it was filled, swallowed, returned to its place, quick as 
 ready, present, fire. 
 
 Frank, who had very much liked Granville's loud " for 
 shame," and who thought he was now sure of his opin- 
 ion, looked up to him again, the moment he put down 
 his glass, and smiling, said, " Now you are convinced 
 Lewis was right." 
 
 Granville was silent, and coloured, but whether from 
 shame or anger Frank could not be certain. 
 
 Granville exerted himself afterward, and talked more 
 than usual, and very well, on various subjects; but he 
 never addressed one word to Lewis, to whom he seemed 
 to have taken a dislike, Frank could not conceive why. 
 He could hardly imagine that he was offended merely 
 by Lewis's differing from him in opinion, and by his 
 having dared to contradict and conquer him in argu- 
 ment. 
 
 R3
 
 394 FRANK. 
 
 After dinner, when the ladies left the room, Frank 
 and Lewis rose to go with them. 
 
 " You are going, I see," said Granville, coldly and 
 ceremoniously, to Lewis ; " you will always do as you 
 please in this house, I hope." He nodded more gra- 
 ciously to Frank, adding, " Spellman will follow you 
 soon, and show you the lions." 
 
 Spellman, though he would rather have stayed with 
 the gentlemen, followed Frank directly, for which Frank 
 was very sorry, as he wanted to walk in the park alone 
 with Lewis. 
 
 Frank was taken by Spellman to the stable, and the 
 kennel, and the pheasantry, and the armoury; and he 
 would have been entertained, but that fagging lay heavy 
 at his heart. The walk in the park, however, was re- 
 freshing after the hot dinner; but Spellman kept on 
 talking and flattering, and he was such a flatterer that 
 Frank grew sick of him. Spellman was probably 
 equally tired of Frank, for when they had finished their 
 walk, when he had lodged them in the drawing-room, 
 and furnished them with coffee, he left them ; and as 
 the window was open, Lewis heard him calling out, 
 " I'm off duty now, stay for me hard duty it was it's 
 fair I should have some fun." 
 
 Frank was glad to have got rid of him at any rate. 
 Lewis was called by some one to play at chess. Frank 
 stood by, wishing he could play at any thing, listening 
 first to what one lady said, and then another, and 
 heard a great deal of talking, but nothing interested him. 
 His mother was at a distance with Lady Chepstow, who 
 spoke in a whisper. Nobody knew that Frank was 
 standing there, till Granville and his party came into 
 the room. Shaw, as he passed, laughed at Frank's dole- 
 ful face, and said, " There's a fish out of water no, a 
 tame bird dying of the pip." 
 
 Before Frank could guess what sort of death this was, 
 Mr. Power followed. Power neither heard the wit, nor 
 saw the object ; but stumbling over Frank's feet, won- 
 dered how his feet came there, begged his pardon if he 
 had hurt him, but took coffee without hearing Frank's 
 reply. 
 
 Cressingham was saying something about Spellman, 
 and could not attend to any thing else. Granville, how- 
 ever, stopped, and said to Frank, " Have you ever seen 
 Egypt 1" Frank, bewildered, was uncommonly stupid,
 
 FRANK, 395 
 
 and looked in his face without answering. Lewis inter- 
 rupted his game of chess, and answered for him, " No, 
 Frank, you have not seen the Travels in Egypt, that 
 great book on the table." 
 
 What a blessing it is to have a friend who has some 
 sense, when we have none of our own ! a friend, who 
 will even lose a game at chess to serve us. Lewis lost 
 his game, and went with Frank to Egypt. Frank thought 
 he should now be comfortable, and he only wanted Mary 
 to* join them, but Mary seemed as if she could not stir : 
 she looked uncommonly stupid too. The Miss Gran- 
 villes, who saw Frank beckoning, were so obliging as to 
 go to the table with her, but they had seen Egypt sev- 
 eral times before, that is to say, had turned it over. 
 They were very polite about the pyramids, and every 
 thing ; but their standing by and talking, as he thought, 
 a little affectedly, disturbed Frank. He looked at the 
 pyramids almost without seeing them, or knowing what 
 they were, and the young ladies, he was conscious, 
 must think him nearly a fool. He whispered, " Go back 
 to your seat, will you, Mary 1" The Miss Granvilles 
 went with her ; but Spellman came in, and seeing him 
 alone, would help him to turn over the leaves ; though 
 Frank thanked him, and said he could turn them over 
 for himself. But Spellman began to tell him the book 
 was very valuable, that it cost so much ; Frank gave it 
 up, and longed to go to bed, but dared not, because he 
 was afraid Spellman would go with him to show him 
 the way to his room. At last he saw his mother get up 
 and leave the room, and he darted after her. He had a 
 great deal to say, but he could say little, he was so ex- 
 cessively sleepy. While his mother was taking his 
 goods for him out of the chaise-box, he stretched, and 
 yawned, and said, 
 
 " Poor Mary, I hope she has been asleep this hour." 
 
 But she answered from a little room within her moth- 
 'er's 
 
 " Oh no, I am not asleep. I cannot get to sleep. Do 
 not you wish we were at home again, Frank ]" 
 
 " That I do," said Frank. 
 
 The next morning Frank came into his mother's room. 
 " Good morning to you, dear mother," said he. " I am 
 sure Colonel Birch was right, and that you have made 
 me too happy at home."
 
 396 FRANK. 
 
 ' " I am sorry for it, my dear child," said his mother, 
 " if you are to suffer for it" 
 
 " No, mother, I will not suffer, nor shall you. Frank 
 Is himself again this morning," said he, smiling. 
 
 Mary, hearing Frank's voice, came out of her little 
 room ready dressed ; but looking mournfully, she said, 
 
 " I am very sorry we are to stay here a whole fort- 
 night." 
 
 " Do not be sorry, Mary," said Frank, " for though it 
 is disagreeable, I am sure it will do roe a great deal ef 
 good " 
 
 After a night's refreshing sleep, he had recovered his 
 sense and his spirit. He had been up above an hour 
 with Lewis, who had settled his mind, he said, on those 
 points which had disturbed him most, fags and fagging. 
 He was exceedingly sorry that he could not go with 
 Lewis to that school of his, where neither fags nor fag- 
 ging were allowed ; but since he could not abolish the 
 vile custom by any thing he could say or do, all that re- 
 mained was to do his duty, if he was ever called upon 
 to be a fag. Frank was determined he would bear every 
 thing well, unless, said he, it should come to red hot po- 
 kers, or any such tyranny as ought not to be borne. 
 
 " But what would you do then if it did 1" said Mary. 
 
 " I would," said Frank, " boldly, before my tyrant's 
 face, and before all his school-fellows, come forward, 
 and ask his school-fellows and my school-fellows, and 
 his master and my master, whether this ought to be borne 
 or not." 
 
 Frank acted the coming forward, as he spoke, with 
 great spirit ; and looked, as he felt, like a little hero. 
 
 " Bravo, Frank !" said his father, looking at him from 
 his dressing-room door : " you would do what was quite 
 right : but I promise you that I will inquire into the 
 facts, and you shall not be sent to any school where I 
 know that such tyranny is practised. I do not say per- 
 mitted, for were it known, 1 am sure it would not be suf- 
 fered." 
 
 " Thank you father," said Frank ; " then, if I have a tol- 
 erable master, I will be as good a fag as ever was seen ; 
 you shall find, and Colonel Birch shall find, that I am 
 not spoiled, though I have been so happy, my dear 
 mother, at home; I will' not be lazy, nor cross, nor a 
 telltale ; but one thing I am resolved upon, if it comes 
 to the trial, I will tell no lie for anybody ; I will speak
 
 PRANK. 397 
 
 the truth always ; and I am able, I hope, to bear the con- 
 sequences." 
 
 His father came out from the inner room while Frank 
 was saying this, and he laid his hand upon Frank's head, 
 and said, 
 
 " God bless you, my dear son ; and if you keep to 
 this resolution, and hold to such principles, you will be 
 a blessing to your mother and to me." 
 
 Frank, when he heard these words, thought he was 
 able to bear any thing, and to do any thing. He saw his 
 mother's eyes fixed fondly upon him, and Mary again 
 looking bright and happy. In high spirits, he ran down 
 stairs to see whether breakfast was ready. In the hall 
 which he was to cross, to go to the breakfast-room, Gran- 
 ville, the whole schoolboy party, and some others were 
 standing, and as Frank passed, Shaw tried to catch hold 
 of him : " Ah, tame bird, are you alive this morning ?" 
 
 "Not a tame bird," said Frank, escaping from him, 
 " not to be caught by you." 
 
 " He will be tamed soon, though," cried Power, seiz- 
 ing hold of Frank's arm. 
 
 " May be so, but not by you, Mr. Power," said Frank, 
 standing still, but steadily, under his grasp. 
 
 " Let the boy go, if you please, Power," said Gran- 
 ville, calmly. 
 
 And Power let him go, saying disdainfully, " Who 
 wants to hold him f" 
 
 "One moment, I "beg your pardon," said Spellman, 
 setting himself with his spread arms before Frank, to 
 stop him as he was springing forward : " May I ask you 
 one question ?" 
 
 " Any you please," said Frank ; " but," added he, in 
 a playful tone, " I'm to choose whether I'll answer it or 
 not." 
 
 " Then tell me," said he, winking over Frank's head 
 at the by-standers; "Tell me, my little man, if you 
 were to choose, of these four gentlemen, whose fag 
 would you be ?" 
 
 Frank paused, considered, and answered, "I shall 
 say the name you wish me to say, but not because you 
 expect it, not to flatter anybody : I should choose Mr. 
 Granville." 
 
 Granville smiled. 
 
 " Well said," cried Cressingham ; " but tell us why 
 why did not you choose me ?" 
 34
 
 398 PRANK. 
 
 " I don't know enough of you, sir," said Frank. 
 
 " As much as of Grauville," said Cressingham. 
 
 " Not quite so much," said Frank. 
 
 " Why ! What do you know of him t" said Cressing- 
 ham. 
 
 " Something," answered Frank ; " something that he 
 said." 
 
 " Said!" repeated Shaw, " When 1" 
 
 " Yesterday, at dinner, Mr. Granville said, ' For 
 shame, gentlemen.' " 
 
 They all laughed. " He has caught Granville's indig- 
 nant tone too," said Shaw ; " I like the voice particu- 
 larly." 
 
 " I like the feeling better," said Cressingham. 
 
 "I like the boy," said Granville, drawing Frank closer 
 to him ; " for the future, my dear little fellow, you may 
 call me Granville or Horace, and I will call you Frank." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, but I would rather call you Mr. 
 Granville, if you please," said Frank. 
 
 " Why 1 you call your friend Lewis, Lewis, don't 
 you V 
 
 "I do ; because he is my friend, sir." 
 
 " Well, sir, and I intend to be your friend, sir," said 
 Granville, in a tone of familiarity unusual to him. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Frank, still without changing 
 his manner. 
 
 " He does not understand," said Spellman. 
 
 " He does," said Granville, " and I understand him." 
 
 A servant came to say that breakfast was ready. 
 Mr. Granville again placed Frank beside him, telling 
 him this was always to be his place. 
 
 This day Frank was much happier than he had been 
 yesterday. In the first place, his father this day, in 
 consequence of all he saw and heard of Messieurs 
 Shaw and Power, and of the abuses of the fagging 
 system that prevailed at their school, determined that 
 Frank should never go there. Relieved from this dread, 
 Frank felt happier, because he became more accus- 
 tomed to the new things and people, by which and by 
 whom he was surrounded. He considered that he was 
 to be at Bellombre only a fortnight, and that what was 
 to happen afterward at school was the point of most 
 consequence to him ; therefore, Mr. Granville, whom he 
 began to look upon as his future master and protector, 
 was the only person whom he need be anxious to please
 
 PRANK. 
 
 Frank attended to all he said and did, and talked much 
 of him and his character to Lewis, and to his mother 
 and Mary, whenever he could speak to them, but that 
 was seldom. Some things he could not understand nor 
 like. He could not understand why Mr. Grariville was 
 sometimes so bashful, and at other times so haughty ; 
 and he could not bear his letting Spellman go on flat- 
 tering him. He found that Spellman was the son of 
 some vulgar person, and was vulgar in his manners, 
 mean in his habits, and without information, or any 
 quality to recommend him except good-nature. 
 
 The fact was, that he had been Granville's first com- 
 panion before lie went to school, and Granville had 
 then early acquired the habit of liking his flattery, 
 which he mistook for affection, and was glad to have 
 Spellman to speak for him, which relieved his natural 
 bashfulness. At school, and when he mixed with other 
 boys, his shyness was conquered : competition and 
 emulation called out his abilities; his pride of rank and 
 wealth were obliged to give way to a better sort of 
 pride ; he exerted himself, and excelled in talents ; he 
 kept company with his equals and superiors, and formed 
 a friendship with Cressingham, who was a boy of 
 honour. Whenever he returned home, however, the 
 habits he had formed before he went to school recurred, 
 and Spellman was as necessary at Bellombre as a fag 
 was at school. He now considered Frank as com- 
 pletely under his protection, believing that it was set- 
 tled that he should take him back with him to school, 
 and have him for his future fag. For some days Frank 
 found him very kind, and eager to secure for him his 
 full share, and, in truth, more than his share, of every 
 pleasure or diversion. In the mornings, there was fish- 
 ing, boating, riding, driving. Grauville mounted Frank 
 well, and was, as he said, surprised to find " how admi- 
 rably the little fellow rode." Spellman was not only 
 surprised, but pretended to be perfectly astonished ; 
 Frank was ashamed, and disliked this coarse flattery, 
 but he was not insensible to the general admiration 
 which he thought he saw, that his horsemanship and 
 his cleverness excited; especially Granyille's silent nod 
 in reply to the praises was gratifying. However, his 
 mother and Lewis had put him upon his guard against 
 vanity; he knew his own foible, and he behaved with 
 great propriety. Cressingham liked his modesty.
 
 400 FRANK. 
 
 Shaw and Power did not care about him, when they 
 had not an opportunity of laughing at him as a tame 
 boy or a greenhorn. Frank became quite at his ease, 
 and sometimes rose in high spirits, though still he was 
 not so happy as at home. It was quite a different 
 thing. Mary was never with him ; he was scarcely 
 ever with his father and mother, and he had none of his 
 own employments. It was diversion or idleness all day 
 long ; and every night, when he went to bed, he was 
 either tired of doing nothing, or his head was in a 
 sort of puzzle, from the variety of things he had seen. 
 His father and mother had left him as much as possible 
 to himself; they never watched him. At the end of 
 every day, when he came to wish his mother good-night 
 in her dressing-room, it was his delight to tell her all 
 that he could recollect of what had happened to him ; 
 and he sometimes stayed for half an hour after he had 
 begun by saying he was so tired he could scarcely 
 speak. Mary went to bed early, and was generally 
 asleep when he came, but sometimes he awakened her 
 by his late talkings, and of this she was always very 
 glad, when she could hear from her little room what 
 was said : she used to leave her door open on purpose, 
 but she generally found it shut in the morning. Frank's 
 mother, at length, limited his chattering time to ten 
 minutes, after which she was inexorable ; and he was 
 obliged to march off. 
 
 One advantage which she hoped from his visit to 
 Bellombre was, as she told him, that it would wean 
 him from the habit of expecting sympathy such as he 
 had enjoyed at home. She thought it was good for him 
 to be separated from the friends with whom he had 
 been used to live, especially from Mary, of whose kind 
 and constant sympathy he would much feel the loss at 
 school. Besides the having been accustomed to too 
 much sympathy, he had, perhaps, been too much nur- 
 tured by the fostering dew of praise ; he had been led 
 even by his affection for his father and mother, and by 
 his respect and admiration for them, to make their praise 
 and their approbation the object and motive of all his 
 actions. His parents now spoke to him very seriously 
 upon the danger of this to his future character. 
 
 They told him, that when he should be separated 
 from them, as he soon would be, he must depend en- 
 tirely upon his own principles, and upon the conscious-
 
 FRANK. 401 
 
 ness of doing what is right, when perhaps nobody in 
 this world would know it, and when he would have 
 neither sympathy nor praise. 
 
 Frank had some slight trials of this kind while he 
 was at Bellombre. 
 
 Several little boys, the sons of gentlemen in the 
 neighbourhood, and some the sons of officers who were 
 quartered in the adjacent country-town, were frequent- 
 ly invited during his visit there, chiefly for his amuse- 
 ment. One day Frank proposed to play at follow the 
 leader, which he had long desired, and there were now 
 boys enough. Their spirits rose as they went on. One 
 leader vied with another no one would be left behind. 
 Till at last, when Frank was leader, he, eager to dis- 
 tinguish himself by noble daring, vaulted over certain 
 network fences of the pheasantry, and, as he thought, 
 cleared them without doing any damage, and pursued 
 his way straight across the pheasant-yard ; others fol- 
 lowed, pushing headlong through the network, which 
 they kicked down level with the ground. The birds, 
 alarmed at this sudden invasion, ran from side to side 
 to their territory, and at last found and flew out of the 
 gap in the network. Much alarmed, the boys now pur- 
 sued the birds, but pursued in vain. Some of them 
 could not be recovered. Lady Chepstow, who was par- 
 ticularly fond of her pheasantry, was much displeased 
 when she heard what had happened. And who did the 
 mischief? was the question. Some thought Frank had 
 given the first kick. He was quite sure that he had not, 
 and that the damage had been done by his followers ; 
 but then he was leader, and had brought them into the 
 scrape. He took the whole blame upon himself, and a 
 great deal he had to bear. But what vexed him most 
 was, that some of the boys, who did most mischief, be- 
 haved shabbily, and did not give him any thanks or 
 credit for his truth and generosity. Lewis was not of 
 the party. Frank could not even tell Mary how well 
 he had behaved, but he knew it himself, that was his 
 only comfort. 
 
 Many slighter, and some larger instances of a similar 
 kind occurred, where Frank, more strict in truth than 
 some of his companions, suffered by it at the time. But 
 this strengthened his mind, and he felt proud of being 
 able to do without praise, or even the dear reward of 
 34*
 
 402 FRANK. 
 
 his father and mother and Mary's sympathy and ap- 
 probation. 
 
 One evening the little party had been amusing them- 
 selves by playing at cards. Frank, who did not know 
 how to play, was only a stander-by, and he had been 
 rather mortified at not being able to take any part in 
 the diversion. When the elder boys had finished their 
 game, and were gone to billiards, he took up the cards 
 and began to show off to the little boys some of the 
 tricks which he had seen played by the juggler, which, 
 for the moment, made him, in their opinion, a man of 
 consequence. General surprise and admiration were 
 excited, when he declared that he could undertake to 
 tell what card in the pack any person in company might 
 choose. This could not be believed ! they defied him. 
 Frank presented the cards to one of the little boys, and 
 bid him choose one and take it from the pack ; he did 
 so : then Frank desired him to replace it, and then to 
 whisper to his neighbour the name of the card he had 
 chosen. This was done accordingly ; Frank then ex- 
 amining the cards with great gravity, threw one after 
 another upon the table, saying, "It was not this, it was 
 not that, nor that, nor this ; but it was this," said he, 
 putting his finger on the king of clubs. 
 
 How wonderful ! it was the very card the boy had 
 thought of. Frank was looked upon with astonishment 
 by all the little spectators. " Well, you are indeed a 
 conjurer !" cried they. 
 
 Frank enjoyed their surprise, and was not a little ela- 
 ted by the superiority which his being able to perform 
 this feat gave him over those who had lately looked 
 down upon him with pity, if not with contempt, for his 
 ignorance of all games at cards, even of " beggar-my- 
 neighbour" One of the spectators, however, more in- 
 credulous, would not believe what he had seen, and 
 though the others asked if he would not believe his own 
 eyes, he persisted in thinking that what had appeared 
 to have been done had not been done fairly. Frank ask- 
 ed what he meant by fairly ? The boy answered, " I 
 mean that I think you overheard the whisper, and so 
 knew the name of the card fixed upon." 
 
 " I assure you that I did not," said Frank ; " that in- 
 deed would not have been fair." 
 
 " Well, then, somebody made a sign to you which told 
 you when you came to the right."
 
 FRANK. 403 
 
 11 No : I have no friend here but Lewis ; and, Lewis, 
 will you go out of the room while I do it over again V' 
 
 His friend Lewis went out of the room to oblige him, 
 while a new card was to be fixed upon. Frank retired 
 to the farthest end of the apartment while the name of 
 the new card was whispered, that he might this time be 
 free from all suspicion. The doubter and all the judges 
 acknowledged that it was impossible he should this time 
 have overheard. And yet this time, as before, the mo- 
 ment it appeared, he told the card which had been 
 pitched upon. It was the knave of diamonds. All 
 were in admiration except the obstinate doubter, who 
 now looked not only incredulous, but vexed, in the 
 midst of his delighted companions. " What do you 
 think of him now, general?" said they. They called 
 him general, or the little general, because he was the 
 son of an officer, and had often said he would be a gen- 
 eral when he should be a man ; he was an honest, gen- 
 erous boy, but he was too fond of laying wagers, and 
 betting upon all occasions in favour of his own opinion. 
 
 " I will lay you any wager I know how you do it ; if 
 it is not by the ear, it must be by the eye. You guess 
 by the countenance. I saw you look at your sister, or 
 your cousin, is she ? and I dare say she made some sign 
 to you the moment she came near the table." 
 
 Mary, who had joined the circle of spectators, now 
 blushing, declared that she had made no sign to Frank ; 
 she would go away, she said, and they might try it over 
 again. She withdrew. Frank assured the little gen- 
 eral that he was mistaken in his suspicions, but he ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 "You must have some way of doing it I know 
 there's some trick in it." 
 
 " I do not deny that," said Frank ; " I have some way 
 of doing it, certainly, but you have not found out my 
 secret." 
 
 " Well, I will lay you any wager you please," said he 
 to Frank, " that if your friend and this young lady are 
 both out of the room, and if you stand so that you can- 
 not see our faces, you will never be able to tell the card 
 I choose." 
 
 Frank said he would lay any wager that he could 
 teO it. 
 
 " Come, then, I'll lay you this silver pencil-case of 
 mine to that ivory rule you showed me, that you cannot."
 
 404 FRANK. 
 
 " Done !" said Frank, hastily. 
 
 "Done," said the other; hut Frank recollecting him- 
 self, drew back, and said, " No, I will not lay any wager 
 about it." 
 
 Upon which all, and the little general the loudest, ex- 
 claimed that he could not draw back that this was not 
 fair. " I draw back because I think it would not be 
 fair to go on," said Frank ; " I am quite certain that I 
 can do it." 
 
 The little general laughed rather sneeringly, and said, 
 " This is a fine way of getting off;" but Frank persisted 
 that he would not lay any wager about it ; but he would 
 prove to them that he could do it. He stood with his 
 back to the spectators. Lewis and Mary went out of 
 the room. The knave of hearts was the card which the 
 little general chose ; and to secure himself from that 
 wonderful quickness of hearing which he suspected 
 Frank to possess, he would not even whisper it ; he 
 wrote it down on a slip of paper, and put it into the 
 hand of a friend, which closed upon it instantly, so that 
 it could not have been seen. Frank, however, without 
 hesitation, named the card which had been thought of, 
 and the moment it appeared said, " That is it, the knave 
 of hearts." 
 
 " I give up," said the officer's son; "I am quite con- 
 vinced that you do it fairly." He ran to call in Mary 
 and Lewis, and repeated the same to them ; adding, 
 that he begged Frank's pardon, and theirs for having 
 doubted them. 
 
 " But what a fool you were, begging your pardon, 
 Master Frank," said Spellman, "not to stick to your 
 bet ; you would have fairly won his silver pencil-case." 
 
 " He has shown that he can both play tricks and be 
 honest too, I think," said Cressingham. 
 
 Several of the little boys expressed a great desire to 
 know how the trick was played, and Frank said he 
 would explain it to them. He showed, that the person 
 who was to play the trick began by first, fixing upon a 
 card, suppose the three of hearts ; then he lets you 
 choose what card you please, and in the meantime he 
 keeps his three of hearts at the bottom of the pack ; 
 makes you put yours under it, keeps the three of hearts 
 and the card chosen, close together in shuffling, and 
 then he is sure that they must be found together. After- 
 ward, in looking over the pack, he knows that the card
 
 FRANK. 405 
 
 next the three of hearts must be that which was .chosen. 
 " That is all, you see," concluded Frank ; " the trick is 
 very simple." 
 
 " Very simple, indeed," said the little general, " now 
 that we know it." 
 
 "And very simple of you, Frank, to show it to them," 
 said Power ; " you might always have made yourself a 
 man of some consequence in the world, with this jug- 
 gler trick, if you had kept it to yourself." 
 
 Power walked away as he spoke ; and Cressingham, 
 looking at Granville, said, " Who knows but Frank may 
 make himself of some consequence in the world, with- 
 out the assistance of any juggler's trick ?" 
 
 Granville gave his approving nod with unusual energy, 
 which pleased both Lewis and Mary very much. 
 
 Granville and Cressingham then walked away to- 
 gether, and Spellman following, looked back and said, 
 
 " For all that, I would have kept my secret to myself, 
 if I were you, Master Frank." 
 
 " So would I, if 1 were you, Mr. Spellman," answer- 
 ed Frank. 
 
 The little general, and Lewis, and Mary, all smiled 
 and thought of the same thing. " Alexander's answer 
 to Parmenio, was not that what made you smile V said 
 the little general. " It was," said Lewis. The rest of 
 the young people looked as if they wished to under- 
 stand, but did not. Since they came to Bellombre, 
 scarcely any allusions had ever been made by Lewis, 
 Mary, or Frank, to any thing they had been reading at 
 home. Not that the young people there did not read ; 
 they read history more than Frank and Mary ever read 
 for lessons ; but either they thought it pedantic to talk 
 of such things, or they had no pleasure in thinking of 
 them. They never listened with interest to any of the 
 conversation of grown-up people upon literary subjects, 
 so that they had little opportunity of feeling the advan- 
 tage or pleasure of what they had read. 
 
 This officer's son, whom we shall call James, was 
 very sprightly and entertaining ; his mother was fond of 
 reading, and from her he had learned to like it. He 
 began to give Frank and Lewis a very entertaining ac- 
 count of what had happened to his father in Spain, and 
 the different countries where he had been with his regi- 
 ment. But Lord Chepstow was heard to say something 
 about franking letters, and Lewis was obliged to go
 
 406 PRANK. 
 
 away to finish a letter for home the old story. Frank 
 said he would remember, to tell him all that he might 
 hear while he should be away. Frank found that this 
 little general's father was one of those officers whom 
 he had met with at Colonel Birch's the morning of the 
 review, and the boy knew, and loved Colonel Birch, so 
 that there was another subject of agreeable conversa- 
 tion, and reason for liking one another. But while they 
 were talking very happily, all the little party came to 
 ask them to play at some game at cards. The officer's 
 son answered that he could not play with them to- 
 night. 
 
 " Oh, I am glad of it ! thank you," said Frank ; " do 
 stay and tell me entertaining things, and do not go to 
 those stupid cards." 
 
 " Stupid !" exclaimed one of the boys, who, as Frank 
 observed, had a bad countenance. " You say stupid, 
 because you cannot play any game, and that is very 
 stupid indeed." 
 
 Again he pulled the little general's elbow, saying, 
 " You are not stupid, and you must come to us. Look, 
 we are all waiting for you, general.** 
 
 " Well, only one game," answered James, following, 
 but as if he was led away against his will. " Only one 
 game, for I want to talk to my friend here," said he, 
 drawing Frank along with him. 
 
 " And why cannot your friend there play with us, like 
 other people ?" said another of the party. 
 
 " I do not know how," repeated Frank, feeling asha- 
 med, he could not tell why, for there really was nothing 
 to be ashamed of in not knowing how to play at cards. 
 
 " If that is all, we will soon teach you how," said one 
 of the boys. " Commerce is the easiest game in the 
 world anybody can play at commerce. Sit down with 
 us, and I will sit beside you and teach you. Come, now, 
 sit down, you have no excuse." Frank thought that he 
 had no other excuse, and he forgot that no excuse was 
 necessary ; he need only have said that he did not 
 choose to play. He sat down, but he said he would not 
 play for money. The officer's son said, " Certainly not, 
 till you know how." Frank repeated to himself, "I 
 will not play for money when I do know how." The 
 boy who undertook to teach him, now showed him 
 what cards to play every time when it came to his turn, 
 and, in short, taught him the game, in which no skill, or
 
 PRANK. 407 
 
 very little, seemed necessary ; it was all, or almost all, 
 chance. Frank at first wondered how everybody could 
 be so eager about it ; for, thought he, " it is no merit 
 of theirs whether they have or have not what they call 
 good luck or good cards dealt to them." This was very 
 true ; but Frank soon felt that he began to grow eager 
 like the rest, and was pleased and proud when he had 
 good luck, and vexed and mortified when he had ill for- 
 tune ; though there was nothing to be lost or gained by 
 it, since they were 'playing for nothing. Frank had 
 good cards dealt to him two or three deals running, and 
 he was delighted ; his colour and his spirits rose, and 
 now he was extremely eager to go on. 
 
 " Now you know the game, Frank, and play as well 
 as any of us, let us play for something ; it is so stupid 
 playing for nothing." 
 
 " As little as you please; a penny, if you will," said 
 the boy, whom Frank had before observed had a bad 
 countenance. 
 
 Frank was not quite sure that it was right to play for 
 money ; he had a mind to go to ask his mother, but he 
 was ashamed. He half got up, but the little general 
 whispered, " Have not you a penny ] if you have not I'll 
 lend you one." 
 
 " Oh yes, I have a penny : I have plenty of money," 
 replied Frank. 
 
 " Then sit still, can't you 1 what signifies a penny 
 are you afraid to run your chance of losing a penny !" 
 said one of the little boys, laughing. 
 
 " Not a bit afraid of that," said Frank. 
 
 " What then, must you go to ask your mamma about 
 every penny 1" 
 
 Frank blushed, drew his penny from his pocket, and 
 laid it in the middle of the table along with the other 
 pennies, in what was called the pool. They played, 
 and Frank played very ill, for his mind was disturbed by 
 the doubt of whether he was doing right or wrong, and 
 lie knew but little of what he was about, and scarcely 
 knew one card from another, as his adviser pulled it out 
 of his hand. He did not know how it happened cer- 
 tainly not by any care of his own, perhaps by the skill 
 of him by whom he was directed, or perhaps by chance 
 but he won frequently ; and at last, all the rest of the 
 party having lost, except himself and his new friend, 
 they two were to play for the whole pool, that is, for all
 
 408 FRANK, 
 
 the halfpence which had been staked, and which were 
 now in the middle of the table. Frank did not care for 
 the money, but he wished to be winner, or, as he called 
 it, to be victorious. He won, exulted in his victory, and 
 consented to play again for one other penny, as he 
 thought ; but after he had dealt, an operation, which, as 
 it was new to him, took up all his attention, he saw that 
 there was silver instead of pence in the middle of the 
 table ; and he was told that they were now playing for 
 silver, for that it was too vulgar, too stupid, and too 
 miserly to play for halfpence. Frank would have liked 
 to have stopped, but he fancied that he could not do so 
 now that the game was begun ; besides, he was afraid 
 of being thought " too vulgar," " too stupid," " too 
 miserly," particularly as the boy with the bad coun- 
 tenance remarked that Frank had won halfpence enough 
 already from them all to pay his stake now, if he lost, 
 " and therefore," said he, " you need not look so 
 anxious about your pence." 
 
 Frank said he did not care at all about the pence, and 
 went on playing ; and still, though he was really not in 
 the least anxious about either the pence or the silver, 
 he became, as before, excessively eager to win. He 
 was also proud to be able to play entirely for himself. 
 The little general was the most eager of the whole 
 party, and his temper seemed quite altered, as Frank 
 observed, and he became not only anxious, but quite ill- 
 humoured and agitated as the game ran towards the 
 close, which was to decide who was to win or lose. 
 Some disputes occurred, many cross looks, and some 
 cross words. Frank did not like this at all; and he 
 wished it was finished, and once he had a mind to throw 
 down his cards, and give it up and go away. The same 
 thought passed in his mind while his neighbour was 
 dealing ; but Frank happened to have such good cards 
 this time, that he saw he should win the game if he did 
 not give it up, and he stayed and played, and, to his sur- 
 prise and joy, again won, and won the whole. 
 
 " And is all this mine !" cried Frank. 
 
 " Ay, pocket it," said the boy with the bad counte- 
 nance, in a surly tone, pushing it towards him. No one 
 took pleasure in Frank's pleasure, no one rejoiced in his 
 success, that was impossible, because all lost by what 
 he gained. The two youngest boys looked disconsolate, 
 but the little general was the most vexed ; he bit his
 
 ' /RANK. ' 409 
 
 nails, and stamped about, quite in a passion, declaring 
 that he had always the worst luck of anybody in the 
 whole world : and yet he wanted to play one other 
 game. But there was not time ; the little boys had not 
 been invited to stay to supper this night. The carriage, 
 which was to carry them home, was at the door wait- 
 ing, as Spellman had twice told them ; and Granville 
 himself now came from the billiard-room to say that 
 they must not keep the horses waiting ; off they must 
 go, all but the officer's son, James ; he was to go home 
 with his father, who was at billiards, and not yet ready. 
 The boy with the bad countenance said to Frank, as he 
 passed to go away, " Remember, you must give us our 
 revenge to-morrow night." 
 
 " Revenge !" said Frank. 
 
 " Ay, you must play again, to be sure, to give us 
 losers a chance of winning back our own." Before 
 Frank had time to reply, the boy turned away to claim 
 from James the money he had lent him for his last 
 stake. James answered, " we can settle that another 
 time," and he put his silver pencil-case into the other 
 boy's hand, adding, " take that for the present." Frank 
 did not hear this, nor did he see the disturbed counte- 
 nance of James, for he was intent upon far other 
 thoughts of his own. He had spread his treasure on 
 the green table, and counting it, and portioning it out, 
 was settling what he would do with it. " With this," 
 said he to himself, " I can buy for Mary the magnet 
 which she wished for, and with this a knife, such as 
 Lewis wanted, and I can buy a pencil-case for myself." 
 
 He looked up, and asked the little general the price 
 of his pencil-case. James answered hastily, " I do not 
 know I did not buy it, it was given to me." Then he 
 began to spin a tetotum which lay on the table ; and a 
 sudden thought seeming to come into his head, he took 
 out his watch a small one, indeed, but it was a real 
 watch. 
 
 Frank looked at it, and observed that it was very 
 pretty. 
 
 " Frank," said James, "did you ever play at tetotum 1" 
 ' " Often," said Frank, " with Mary, when she was 3 
 very little girl." 
 
 " Oh ! but I do not mean child's play I mean men's 
 play, betting. Look at this T on the tetotum, that T 
 stands for ' take up all.' If it comes up first to you, you 
 S 35
 
 410 
 
 win if first to me, I win. Now, we will play for tins 
 watch, if you please ; I will stake this against all the 
 money you have won there on the table." 
 
 Frank, in much amazement, looked at him and said, 
 " Would you run the chance of losing your watch that 
 nice watch 1" 
 
 ** I would," said James, " because I think I shall win 
 this time. Come, shall I spin the tetotum 1" 
 
 "Stay," said Frank, stopping his hand, "I do not 
 think it is right." 
 
 "Right! I have a right to do what I please with my 
 own; the watch is mine. But you are afraid to hazard 
 your treasure there." 
 
 " No," said Frank, " I am not I would rather have 
 the watch than all this, or twice as much. So, if you 
 think it is not wrong " 
 
 The other spun the tetotum without waiting to say or 
 to hear more. He spun the tetotum; but the T for 
 ' take up all,' did not come up to him Frank won. 
 
 The watch was put into his hands. He was glad 
 he was sorry he was amazed. His feelings were like 
 those of one in a dream. He felt some one touch his 
 shoulder, and looking up, he saw not the boy with whom 
 he had been playing : he was gone, but Lewis stood be- 
 fore him. 
 
 " How comes this here ]" said Lewis, taking up the 
 watch. " Is it yours 1 How came you by it ? What 
 have you been doing ?" 
 
 He pronounced these questions rapidly, and the anx- 
 iety of his manner so alarmed Frank that he had only 
 power to answer 
 
 " It is mine, I've won it I'm afraid I've done wrong 
 what shall I do ?" 
 
 " Won it ! Have you been gambling ? Return it 
 return it as fast as you can," cried Lewis. 
 
 " That I will," exclaimed Frank, starting up, " but he 
 is gone !" 
 
 " Who do you mean! James 1 I met him going out 
 as I came in." 
 
 " Oh, stop him, find him for me," said Frank. 
 
 " Come with me, then, and bring the watch. 
 
 They both went in search of James, but they could 
 not find him anywhere, yet his father's carriage was at 
 the door. What could have become of him unless he 
 had gone away on foot. Frank became very much
 
 FRANK. 
 
 411 
 
 frightened* Lewis asked all the servants in the outer 
 hall, but they knew nothing of him. One, however, 
 thought he had seen him pass by a few minutes before. 
 Lewis ran out, guessing that he might have got into his 
 father's carriage. One of the servants would have fol- 
 lowed to open the carriage door, but Lewis forbade 
 him, saying, they would rather open the door for them- 
 selves. Frank followed; the blinds were up. Lewis 
 Avent round to the side that was farthest from the hall 
 door, and opened the carriage without making any 
 noise. James, with his face downwards, and stretched 
 on the floor of the carriage, was sobbing violently : he 
 started up, and cried, " Who is there ?" " A friend," 
 answered Lewis ; " Go into the carriage, Frank, and I'll 
 wait for you." 
 
 Frank jumped in, and without speaking, put the watch 
 into his hands. 
 
 " What do you mean T" said James. 
 
 " I mean to give it back to you again," said Frank. 
 
 " Are you in earnest 1" 
 
 " Yes, yes, take the watch out of my hand," said 
 Frank. 
 
 James took it, and thanked Frank vehemently, again 
 and again, and shook his hands, repeating, "you have 
 saved me, you have saved me you can't conceive how 
 miserable I was." He was in such agitation he hardly 
 knew what he said or did. The carriage door was open, 
 and by the moonlight Frank saw his face plainly. It 
 was quite pale, and- smeared with tears. James kissed 
 the watch several times, exclaiming, " My dear watch! 
 my dear, dear mother. My mother gave it to me, and I 
 promised her never to part with it. Oh Frank ! I broke 
 my promise ! and to have gone home to her without 
 the watch Oh, think what shame it would have been. 
 How lucky I was to lose to you instead of to any of the 
 others, they would never have given it back to me. 
 Oh, thank you ! thank you, generous Frank. Now I 
 am resolved I will never get myself into such a scrape 
 again. I will never play for money again." 
 
 " Nor I either," said Frank ; " I wish you would take 
 back all this which I won. I cannot bear to keep it." 
 Frank emptied his pocket of all that he had won. 
 " Pray do give it back to them, you will see them again, 
 perhaps I shall not. I shall never be happy till they 
 have it all again 1 had not the least idea how misera- 
 S3
 
 412 FRANK. 
 
 ble you were. How very unhappy you must have been 
 when you lost it, and when you recollected that you 
 had broken your promise ! How could you do that 1" 
 
 James looked exceedingly ashamed. " Oh, Frank," 
 said he, " this is the first time you ever gambled, you 
 don't know what it is ; but I do you cannot think how 
 it leads one on to forget every thing. What noise is 
 that in the hall? Is my father coming 1 ?" 
 
 " No, only the servants passing backwards and for- 
 wards." 
 
 " See," said James, " see to what it brings me, to be 
 ashamed to meet my own father and mother. But, 
 good-night, good-night, Frank," continued he ; " do not 
 say a word to anybody about the watch, for they would 
 be very angry if they knew about it. Keep my secret, 
 and I shall be obliged to you as long as I live. Go, 
 now, my dear Frank, do not let my father find you here, 
 or he will wonder. Only don't tell promise me that." 
 
 Frank would not make this promise, though it was 
 difficult and painful to refuse James in his distress ; he 
 stopped on the step of the carriage, and said steadily : 
 
 " I cannot promise you not to tell what has passed to 
 anybody; my friend Lewis knows it already; and I 
 tell my father and mother every thing about myself 
 whenever I think I have done wrong, therefore I must 
 tell them what I have done now, for I think I did very 
 wrong ; but I will not mention your name. Will this 
 do?" 
 
 James, looking again very much ashamed, paused, 
 and said, " I do not know what I shall do." 
 
 " Take my advice," said Frank ; " tell the whole to 
 your father and mother." 
 
 " I would," said James, " but that I am afraid." 
 
 " Afraid !" said Frank. " You a general, and afraid V 
 
 The general changed countenance, and after a mo- 
 ment, exclaimed 
 
 " I am determined I will have the courage to tell them 
 the whole truth. Go in, Frank, and tell my father, 
 when you hear them ask for me, that I am sitting in the 
 carriage waiting for him, and that I have something to 
 say to him. Good-by ; I wish I had always had such 
 a friend." 
 
 This night, when Frank went into his mother's room, 
 he shut Mary's door, for all this, he thought, was not 
 proper for her to hear ; and he then told his mother all
 
 FRANK. 413 
 
 that had "passed. His father came in, and listened to 
 him while he was speaking; and when he ended. by 
 saying, " I hope you will not ask me the name of the 
 boy whose watch I won," his father and mother assured 
 him they would not ask him that, or any question which 
 he felt bound in honour not to answer, and his mother 
 rejoiced to see that he had entire confidence in them. 
 
 " Now, Frank," said his father, " young as you are, 
 you have seen something by which you can guess at 
 the meanness and misery to which a gambler may be 
 reduced. Those who acquire the habit of gambling 
 when they are boys, continue it when they grow to be 
 men ; and to this terrible passion for gaming, they sac- 
 rifice every thing they have in the world their friends, 
 their family, their honour : just as you saw that boy 
 break his word, and pledge the watch which he had prom- 
 ised to keep for ever. I am glad you have had this les- 
 son early in life, it will make an impression upon you ; 
 and now you have another opportunity of trying your 
 own resolution ; which do you think best, you are a 
 boy of sense, and I leave it to you to choose. 1 will 
 either take you home to-morrow morning, or stay with 
 you here to the end of the time I had proposed to re- 
 main. Will you go home or stay here ?" 
 
 Frank answered that he would certainly much rather 
 go home ; but yet he chose to stay, that he might try 
 his own power of withstanding-persuasion and ridicule. 
 
 And his resolution upon this subject did not fail. 
 The next night, when the young party returned, the 
 boy with the bad countenance tried to persuade him to 
 play again, but he steadily refused ; and this was the 
 more easy, because James having returned to each of 
 the boys the money which Frank had won, they could 
 not suppose that he refused to play for the mere fear of 
 losing what he had gained. 
 
 He kept the little general's secret faithfully, as he 
 had promised ; all that he heard about him was, that his 
 father had been ordered away with a detachment of the 
 regiment. When he had repaid the boys their money, 
 he had charged them to give his love to Frank, and to 
 tell him he had taken his advice, and that he hoped and 
 believed that he should be the better for it all his life. 
 
 qe* 
 oo
 
 414 PRANK. 
 
 MR. BERKELEY, the curate of Bellombre, was an ex- 
 cellent, amiable man ; he usually came every morning 
 to read an hour with Horace Granville, who loved him, 
 and always treated him with the greatest respect. But 
 Messieurs Power and Shaw did not follow this good 
 example. When Granville was not by, Power some- 
 times showed his vulgar insolence of wealth, and Shaw 
 played off his impertinent wit against this reverend 
 gentleman. Power viewed with scorn the rusty black 
 coat which was worn by him, who gave all he denied 
 himself, to the poor. Shaw, in speaking of him, some- 
 times called him Parson Adams, and Mr. Primitive, and 
 was very angry with Frank because he would not un- 
 derstand who he meant, except when he called Mr. 
 Berkeley by his proper name, nor would he ever join in 
 their odious merriment. 
 
 One Sunday, Lord Chepstow's seat at church was so 
 crowded that some of the company were sent to a pew 
 underneath. Power, Shaw, Lewis, and Frank, were of 
 the number. Power and Shaw, thinking perhaps that 
 they were screened from observation, talked and be- 
 haved in a very unbecoming manner during the service ; 
 and during the sermon they amused themselves with 
 doing all that they could to distract the attention of 
 Frank and Lewis, but in vain. Frank and his friend 
 had behaved with the. most steady propriety. After 
 church, Shaw ridiculed them, and remarked Frank's face 
 of attention, and called him a hypocritical little quiz; 
 and Power added as much wit or abuse of the same 
 kind as he could muster ; but Frank was sure he was 
 right, and bore it quite unmoved. 
 
 After church, Frank's mother was going to walk to the 
 parsonage with Mrs. Berkeley, and Mr. Berkeley asked 
 Frank and Lewis if they would accompany them ; he 
 said he would show them his garden, as they were fond 
 of gardening, and Mary could see what she had long 
 wished to see a yellow rose in flower. 
 
 Power and Shaw whispered to each other, and deter- 
 mined that they, though uninvited, would be of the party, 
 for Shaw was in hopes that he should fine something to 
 laugh at in the parsonage and its inhabitants ; but they 
 could find nothing to ridicule in its neat content and 
 cheerfulness ; besides, they were kept in awe by Gran- 
 ville, who came in soon after them, and before whom
 
 FRANK. 415 
 
 they dared not venture to quiz Mr. Berkeley, or to laugh 
 at any thing belonging to him. 
 
 One of the prints in Mrs. Berkeley's sitting-room 
 caught Frank's attention particularly; it was from a 
 picture of Wright under it were written these words : 
 
 " Miravan A young nobleman of Ingria, breaking open 
 the tomb of his ancestors in search of wealth (incited by 
 this equivocal inscription ' In this tomb is a treasure great- 
 er than Croesus ever possessed" 1 ), found, on entering it, the 
 following : ' Here dwells repose. Sacrilegious wretch ! 
 searchest thou for gold among the dead ? Go, son of ava- 
 rice, thou canst not enjoy repose ." " 
 
 Frank called Lewis to look at this print, and to read 
 what was written beneath it. 
 
 Lewis wondered that the story was told of a young 
 nobleman in Ingria, because he recollected, in the first 
 volume of Herodotus, which he had just read at school, 
 a similar story told of Darius, and of a princess who 
 had been buried over one of the gates of Babylon. 
 
 Mrs. Berkeley took down the Greek Herodotus, and 
 gave Frank the translation, that he might look for the 
 story. Frank found it, and eagerly read it aloud, happy 
 to do honour to his friend Lewis. Mr. Berkeley asked 
 his daughter to copy the print for Frank, which she 
 kindly promised ; of which Frank was very glad ; but 
 he still more enjoyed the praises of his friend, whose 
 excellent memory pleased all present all except Shaw, 
 who could not bear the praise of any talents but his own. 
 He had first asserted that he was sure there was no 
 such thing in Herodotus ; looked mortified when Frank 
 found it, and tried to comfort himself by disparaging 
 Herodotus, who, as he said, was known to be the father 
 of lies. He attacked his translator too, and endeavour- 
 ed to fix the attention of the company by his own supe- 
 rior knowledge of Greek, in detecting some small error; 
 but this failing, he looked excessively mortified. Frank 
 observed that Power seemed more interested than he 
 had ever known him before in any subject of literature. 
 He seemed really to admire Lewis, and Spellman con- 
 tinued to question him in various parts of the book, 
 keeping Mr. Berkeley in admiration of his memory, till 
 Shaw at last took up his hat and walked off. Then 
 Power laughed, and said to Granville, " We have fairly 
 driven Shaw off the field ; he could not stand our praises 
 of Lewis with all his wit ; he is the most envious ciea-
 
 416 FRANK. 
 
 ture alive. Think of his envying a boy so much younger 
 than himself!" 
 
 Granville made no answer but a look of high disdain. 
 Frank, who did not know the feelings of envy, was 
 really surprised, and could scarcely believe it possible. 
 He had observed, indeed, that Shaw always found fault 
 with whatever was praised, especially with an excellent 
 prize poem of one of Lewis's schoolfellows ; but this, 
 Frank had attributed to a party spirit, of the nature of 
 which he had lately acquired some knowledge. He had 
 wondered that he never admired any of the periodical 
 papers written by his own schoolfellows, which he had 
 always criticised with great severity. But still Frank, 
 in his simplicity, had thought that this must arise from 
 Shaw's superior cleverness, which made it so difficult 
 to please his taste and judgment. At first he could not 
 suspect envy, but his eyes were now open to the truth. 
 Power, with brutal mirth, told several anecdotes in con- 
 firmation of the truth, and said he would lay any wager 
 he could make Shaw envious of a child of four years 
 old. Frank, instead of joining in his mirth, looked 
 grave and astonished. 
 
 " Is it possible," said he, " that so clever a boy as 
 Shaw can be envious, and that you, who are his friend, 
 can laugh at him ?" 
 
 " Why not," said Power; "does not he laugh at me 
 and at everybody 1 He is fair game, if anybody is, and 
 one is glad to have a shot at him." 
 
 So saying, he took Spellman by the arm, who, with 
 his acquiescing " very true," walked off. 
 
 " Lewis, you are a different sort of friend," thought 
 Frank. Mr. Berkeley, as if he had read his thoughts, 
 said, 
 
 " What a happiness it is to you two to be such good 
 friends. This will last not only through your school- 
 days, but through life." 
 
 " Certainly," said Frank ; " only, do you know, sir, 
 there is one great misfortune, we cannot go to the same 
 school !" 
 
 " That is a misfortune, for which I pity you," said 
 Mr. Berkeley; "but, to whatever school you go, your 
 friendship will continue, and wherever you are you will 
 make friends, if you preserve this kind, generous tem- 
 per, untainted with envy." 
 
 " //".'" repeated Frank, and he-stood silent. " Surely,"
 
 FRANK. 417 
 
 thought he, " it is impossible that I could ever become 
 envious." 
 
 The rest of the company now began to talk on differ- 
 ent subjects. Some gathered round a table to look at 
 Miss Berkeley's beautiful drawings. Many went to a 
 hortus siccus, a collection of dried plants. Lewis to a 
 mineralogical cabinet; but Frank, more interested in 
 what his father and Mr. Berkeley were saying than in 
 flowers or stones, followed them to a window, where 
 they were talking apart. 
 
 He asked if he might listen to what they were saying; 
 his father nodded assent, and went on, eagerly speaking 
 of the difference between emulation and envy. Emula- 
 tion being a generous desire to raise ourselves in excel- 
 lence ; envy, a base wish to lower others. 
 
 Mr. Berkeley admitted the possibility of keeping 
 these distinct. " Certainly, in careful private educa- 
 tion," he said, " this could be done effectually." 
 
 He opened a volume of Cowper's Poems, and pointed 
 to some lines, which Frank read along with his father. 
 
 These describe emulation as a compound 
 
 " Of envy, hatred, jealousy, and pride." 
 
 -iUiQ &U K'H .M ' 
 
 and give a terrible picture of the spirit of competition 
 among schoolboys. 
 
 ," Each vainly magnifies his own success, 
 Resents his fellow's, wishes it were less ; 
 Exults in his miscarriage if he fail, 
 Deems his reward too great if he prevail ; 
 And labours to surpass him day and night, 
 Less for improvement than to tickle spite. 
 The spur is powerful, and I grant its force ; 
 It pricks the genius forward in its course, 
 Allows short time for play, and none for sloth ; 
 And felt alike by each, advances both ; 
 But judge, where so much evil intervenes, 
 The end, though plausible, not worth the means. 
 Weigh for a moment classical desert, 
 Against a heart depraved, and temper hurt ; 
 Hurt too, perhaps for life ; for early wrong 
 Done to the nobler part, affects it long." 
 
 As he finished these lines, Frank sighed. 
 
 " Do not be afraid, my dear," said Mr. Berkley, smi- 
 ling ; and, laying his hand on Frank's head, added, " I am 
 sure that you will never become envious." 
 
 " How can you be sure of that 1 or how can I be sure 
 S3
 
 418 FRANK. 
 
 of it V said Frank ; " for, if it happens to others when 
 they go* to school, why should it not happen to me ?" 
 
 His father answered " that he had been at a public 
 school himself that he had felt emulation strongly ; 
 and that he could answer for it that envy is not the 
 necessary consequence of school competitions ; he had 
 been excelled by many, but he never recollected having 
 felt envious of his successful rivals, nor," added he, 
 " did my winning many a prize from my friend Birch 
 ever diminish his friendship for me." 
 
 Granville and Cressingham were passing by at this 
 moment, and Frank's father appealed to them, and ask- 
 ed their opinion. They supported his evidence with 
 their own ; said, that they thought they had seen more 
 envy and jealousy between boys bred at home than 
 among those at school ; because at home, the applause 
 and affection of the father and mother became part of 
 the reward, and the boy who does not succeed in schol- 
 arship, is then more mortified than he could be by losing 
 any school-prize : but, they agreed, that much in either 
 case depended upon the impartiality of the parents, and 
 the justice of the schoolmaster. 
 
 Frank was of opinion that parents could not be par- 
 tial as to schoolmasters, he did not know, but he was 
 willing to believe, that they could be sometimes unjust, 
 and perhaps often mistaken. But the general argu- 
 ment, however, did not interest him so much as his own 
 particular case ; he hoped that he might feel like his fa- 
 ther, or like Colonel Birch, or like any of those gener- 
 ous boys who had been free from envy ; but he wanted 
 to know how he could make sure of this. 
 
 Granville walked off, saying, that a boy who was not 
 naturally base, he supposed, was not likely to become 
 envious. 
 
 Frank blushed at his own doubts o. himself; but his 
 father and Mr. Berkeley told him that he need not be 
 ashamed of them ; that these doubts would probably 
 prove his best security, as they would make him watch- 
 ful over his own mind. " But," added Mr. Berkeley, 
 " there can be little dependance upon good feelings, 
 unless supported both by good habits and good prin- 
 ciples." 
 
 " Principles !" said Power, as he came up behind 
 Frank and heard the last words. 
 
 " They are at principles, and such fudge still," whis- 
 pered he to Spellman.
 
 FRANK. 419 
 
 " Remember, it is Sunday," said Spellman, with a sort 
 of double face and tone, which was meant to appear re- 
 spectful to Mr. Berkeley, and which Power was to un- 
 derstand as mockery : " you forget it is Sunday." 
 
 " Sunday or not, I hope there is no harm in going to 
 the stables, so come off with Mr. Berkeley's leave, we 
 will go and take a peep at his stud." 
 
 "I have no stud, young gentlemen," replied Mr. 
 Berkeley, mildly. " I have only one horse, and he is 
 not at all worth your seeing." 
 
 " We shall see that," said Power, and with an inso- 
 lent nod he left the room, followed by Spellman, with a 
 mock-respectful bow, which it was very well for him 
 that Granville did not see. 
 
 Mr. Berkeley, quite unmoved, resumed what he had 
 been saying. 
 
 " My dear young friend, if you will allow me to call 
 you so" 
 
 " I will, sir," said Frank, eagerly, " thank you." 
 
 " A boy accustomed, as you have been, to appeal to 
 his own conscience, without looking always to the 
 praise of others, or to the opinion of by-standers, will be 
 well enough satisfied with himself when he is sure that 
 he is right in essential things. Mere learning, or any 
 attainment, or any talent, as you know, are far inferior 
 in value to honourable, generous feelings and conduct. 
 Even if you should meet with an unjust schoolmaster, 
 or should fail in school competitions, the conciousness 
 in your own mind of being free from all envy, will sup- 
 port you under that mortification ; besides, I am sure, 
 that you would have too much spirit to give up ; and 
 you would know that if you did not succeed in one in- 
 stance, you might do so some time or other ; and this 
 hope will secure you from envy. It b been well ob- 
 served by those who know human natu- J oest, that peo- 
 ple of strong minds are never envious ; weak minds only 
 are subject to that unhappy infirmity." 
 
 Frank thanked Mr. Berkeley, and felt particularly 
 gratified by his manner of speaking to him. 
 
 In support of the truth of what Frank's father had as- 
 Verted, " That under judicious guidance, strong emula- 
 tion may be excited in young minds without any mix- 
 ture of envy, Mr. Berkeley related an anecdote which 
 had fallen under his own observation, in a school in his 
 neighbourhood. At this school, the sons of several
 
 420 FRANK. 
 
 wealthy farmers, and of the poorer class of peasants, 
 received instruction together. 
 
 It happened that the sons of a rich farmer and of a 
 poor widow came in competition for the monitorship 
 of their class ; they were so nearly equal that the mas- 
 ter could scarcely decide between them : some days 
 one, some days the other, gained the head of the class. 
 It was to be determined by seeing who should be at the 
 head of the class for the greater number of days in the 
 week. 
 
 The widow's son, by the last day's answer, gained the 
 victory, and maintained his place the ensuing week, till 
 the school was dismissed for the holydays. 
 
 When they met again, however, he did not appear, 
 and the farmer's son being next in excellence, might 
 now have been at the head of his class ; but instead of 
 seizing that vacant place which had devolved to him by 
 the nonappearance of his rival, he went to the widow's 
 house to inquire what could be the cause of her son's 
 absence. Poverty was the cause : she found that she 
 was not able, with her utmost endeavours, to continue to 
 pay for his schooling, and for the necessary books ; and 
 the poor boy had returned to day labour, as it was his 
 duty, for her support. The farmer's son, out of the al- 
 lowance of pocket-money which his father gave him, 
 and without letting anybody but the widow and her son 
 know what he did, bought all the necessary books, and 
 paid for the schooling of his rival, and brought him back 
 again to the head of his class, where he continued to be 
 monitor for a considerable time, at the expense of his 
 generous rival. 
 
 Frank clapped his hands at hearing this story. Mary 
 came up to ask what pleased him so much, and he re- 
 peated it to her with delight. 
 
 On taking leave of Mr. Berkeley, they were sorry to 
 hear that he was going away for several days, to visit 
 some distant parts of his parish, and ha was not sure that 
 he should return before they were to leave Bellombre. 
 
 " So, master !" said Shaw, stopping opposite to Frank 
 one evening, and setting his hand on his hip, contem- 
 plating him as he was standing alone, while the other 
 little boys were playing at cards " So, Master Frank,
 
 FRANK. 421 
 
 you seem to be left out of every thing that is going on 
 there." 
 
 " I was not left out, I took myself out," said Frank. 
 
 " Took yourself out very good but you look mighty 
 like a person sent to Coventry" said Shaw. "Do you, 
 in your simplicity, know what is meant by being sent to 
 Coventry, pray V 
 
 " Yes," said Frank, " you see I do." 
 
 " And how do you like it, my lad V said Shaw. 
 
 " I do not like it, but I can bear it," said Frank ; " one 
 must bear many disagreeable things, and disagreeable 
 people too." 
 
 Shaw passed on, took his hand off his hip, and rubbed 
 it over his mouth, as was his custom when he had no 
 pun ready, or when he was discomfited. 
 
 Frank had observed, that at the same time every 
 evening Lewis always disappeared, and reappeared 
 about an hour afterward. Frank had often thought of 
 going to see what he was about, but something or other 
 had always put it out of his head. But now that his 
 declining popularity left him leisure to think more of 
 his friend, he went in search of Lewis, whom he found 
 in his room, quietly writing. 
 
 " What, letters ! letters for ever !" cried Frank. 
 
 " Not at letter-writing, but at letters, Belles-lettres? 
 said Lewis ; " I must learn to pun from Shaw. I am 
 getting on with my theme : you know I have no time to 
 lose." 
 
 " I see you lose no time," said Frank. " What ! you 
 have chosen Epaminondas. My dear Lewis, how can 
 you go on here just as if you were at home ?" 
 
 " Why not V said Lewis ; " nothing disturbs me here, 
 in my own room, you know." 
 
 " And yesterday, I saw you reading in the room with 
 us all, when there was such a noise I did not know that 
 two and two made four," said Frank. " I do not think 
 I could have said my alphabet. I could not have attend- 
 ed to the most entertaining book in the world, in that 
 buzz of voices, and din of billiards." 
 
 " Oh, we are used at school to read, and write, and 
 get our lessons, in a much greater din," said Lewis ; " so 
 it is easy to do the same anywhere ; that is one great ad- 
 vantage in having been at school." 
 
 " Shall I ever be able to do so ?" said Frank. 
 " Oh, yes, you will ; necessity is a hard master, but 
 36
 
 422 FRANK 
 
 you are sure to learn from him, as my master said, who, 
 by-the-by, is not a hard master." 
 
 " 1 wish he was to be mine," said Frank. 
 
 "He would tell you to say, I wish he were to be 
 mine,' " said Lewis, laughing, ' for he is very exact about 
 the subjunctive mood, and I am sure would not let a 
 fault pass even in a compliment to himself." 
 
 " So exact! and yet you seem to love him." 
 
 "I do ; some people say that no boy ever loved the 
 man who taught him Latin, but that 1 deny," said Lewis. 
 
 *' So do I," said Frank, " for I Itfve my father, and yet 
 he taught me Latin. But how Shaw would quiz and 
 laugh at us, if he heard what we are saying this minute," 
 said Frank, looking as if he was a little afraid that the 
 walls should hear. 
 
 " The walls have not ears," said Lewis ; " and if they 
 had, and if Shaw were to laugh at us, what matter]" 
 
 " I should not mind it much," said Frank ; " but," con- 
 tinued he, returning to what Lewis was writing, " is it 
 possible that you have done all this * How could you do 
 it in so little time T I scarcely ever missed you out of the 
 room. How long were you at it every day ?" 
 
 " Just one hour every day," said Lewis, " and at a 
 time when nobody wanted me, nobody missed me, you 
 see ; perhaps I lost some of the diversion below stairs ; 
 but without doing this, I could not have finished my 
 theme, so I am content." 
 
 " Shall I ever do as much, do you think V said Frank. 
 
 " That you will. Consider how much older 1 am than 
 you, Frank; I am growing quite an old man." 
 
 " So you are, really," said Frank. 
 
 " Now I am come to the delightful word finis" said 
 Lewis, " and very glad I am ; I worked hard, that I might 
 have the few days afterward for you and Mary, when 
 we go home." 
 
 " How very well thought of, and how kind," said 
 Frank; "but you know how to be kind, and you think 
 of every thing, though one would not guess it, because 
 you never look solemn." He now seized upon Epam- 
 inondas, sat down, and said he would read it before he 
 stirred ; but Lewis, though he was very anxious to know 
 what he would think of it, would not let him stay ; he 
 took the MS. out of his hand, and went down stairs 
 with him. 
 
 If any young or old author should ever chance to read 

 
 FRANK. 423 
 
 this, he will feel, perhaps, that there was some difficulty 
 in the sacrifice, and will pronounce Lewis to be a good 
 friend. 
 
 They went to the billiard-room, where the young peo- 
 ple were assembled. Granville, Cressingham, Shaw, 
 and Power, were at the table, which they had to them- 
 selves, all the elders being at this time, happily or un- 
 happily, engaged in talking politics. 
 
 Frank, liked very much to see billiards played. This 
 is more a game of skill and address than of chance ; 
 and his father, whose advice he had asked, had no ob- 
 jection to billiards ; on the contrary, he liked them 
 much as excellent exercise, good trial of the eye and 
 hand, and pleasant amusement, provided that they be not 
 played for money, or turned to gambling by betting on the 
 players. Shaw and Power had desired to play for 
 money, but to this Granville .would not consent ; he 
 had refused to play if they betted on his head. This 
 was the more extraordinary, Shaw observed, because 
 Granville played better than anybody. 
 
 " The more honourable, you mean, not the more ex- 
 traordinary, I hope," said Cressingham ; " he does not 
 want to win all Power's money, which he could easily 
 do, you know, if he let himself be provoked to bet." 
 
 Power said something about his not valuing money, 
 and not valuing those who were so mighty careful of 
 their own or other people's. 
 
 Granville said that Mr. Power might do what he 
 pleased anywhere else, he did not pretend to have any 
 right to control him ; but that, for his own part, he would 
 not let his father's billiard- table be turned into a gaming- 
 table. 
 
 This, which was pronounced not only proudly, but 
 steadily, put a stop to all further discussion ; and, to 
 Frank's great satisfaction, it was settled that there 
 should be no bets. They went on playing for nothing, 
 a phrase perhaps invented by those who think money 
 every thing, and who forget that playing for health and 
 amusement may be considered as playing for some- 
 thing. Frank now stood beside Granville, whose ad- 
 dress he watched with great eagerness, observing the 
 care with which he aimed, and the skill with which 
 he struck the ball, to make it go to whatever point he 
 desired. Frank's eye followed his ball constantly, and 
 he wished that it should always succeed. This sym-
 
 '424 FRANk. 
 
 pathy and wish for his success were evidently agreea- 
 ble to Granville, who twice said, " Thank you, Frank !" 
 and once stopped to let him have a stroke at the ball 
 himself, putting the cue into Frank's hand, and guiding 
 him in his first aim. 
 
 " I never saw Mr. Granville half so fond of anybody, 
 I mean of any boy of his age, before," observed Spell- 
 man, in a tone intended to be flattering, but which, at 
 the same time, betrayed that he was, for his own part, 
 a little mortified. Well might he be mortified, for all the 
 exaggerated praise that he continually bestowed on 
 Granville's " wonderful fine play!" never made Gran- 
 ville turn his head, or move a muscle of his countenance ; 
 u and yet he certainly must hear what Spellman is say- 
 ing," thought Frank : " 1 wonder he lets him flatter in this 
 way." Granville, though ashamed before others to ap- 
 pear to accept this adulation, yet from a mixture of habit 
 and belief in Spellman's being attached to him, and from 
 weakness, suffered him to go on. Frank could not en- 
 dure it ; he went as far from him as he could, to the op- 
 posite side of the table, and forgot to mark, and was so 
 absent that at last Granville called to him to mind his 
 business, and reached across and gave him a little tap 
 on the head with his cue. Frank started, and drew his 
 head from under the stick ; he did not like it, because 
 he had seen the same thing done to Spellman. How- 
 ever, he obeyed directly, marked twice for Granville, 
 and begged pardon for his carelessness. 
 
 "What could you be thinking of?" said Spellman. 
 " Pray do tell us, what were you thinking of V 
 
 " I would rather not tell you," said Frank. 
 
 " Oh, you must tell us !" cried Power, seizing hold of 
 him in his rough manner. 
 
 Frank repeated " that he would rather not, that he 
 would not tell him ;'' and at last added, " that Mr. Power 
 had no right to force his thoughts from him." 
 
 " True," said Granville. in his deciding voice. " Let 
 the boy alone, if you please, Mr. Power ; he is under 
 my protection." 
 
 " Happy for him," said Spellman. 
 
 " Very likely," said Shaw, " yet he does not look re- 
 markably happy at this moment. Did you see how he 
 rubbed his head when Granville gave him that little rap 
 just now 1 A delicate fag he will make." 
 
 " He must be delicate, indeed, and more delicate than
 
 FRANK. 
 
 I have any idea of, if he did not like that" said Spell- 
 man. " Is it possible, Frank, that you did not like that ?" 
 
 Frank acknowledged that he did not. Spellman re- 
 peated his astonishment, and Granville coolly looked at 
 Frank for explanation. 
 
 Frank did not attempt to give any, and Granville went 
 on playing without noticing him more. " You will never 
 do at school, little gentleman, I can tell you, if you are 
 not good-humoured," said Cressingham. 
 
 " Never," said Granville. 
 
 " Good-humoured," cried Lewis ; " you will find Frank 
 one of the best humoured boys you ever saw." 
 
 Granville looked at him, as much as to say, " Who 
 asked your opinion ?" and still went on playing. He 
 lost the game, and Spellman was again very much sur- 
 prised, and questioned whether Lewis, who was the 
 marker on the opposite side, had marked rightly. Frank 
 was quite sure that Lewis had marked rightly, for he 
 said he had seen him. 
 
 " How is this, Frank 1 I thought you were on my side," 
 said Granville. 
 
 " So I was, and so I am," said Frank. 
 
 " Then why do you speak on the other side ?" said 
 Spellman. 
 
 " I speak the truth," said Frank, " without consider- 
 ing about sides." 
 
 " Verj right, my little fellow," said Cressingham. 
 
 " But that will never do in this world, or at school," 
 said Shaw. 
 
 Frank said he was sorry for it. 
 
 " Do not believe it," said Cressingham ; " the truth 
 will do at school and everywhere else, if you speak it 
 properly." 
 
 " Pray see if I have cast this up right," said Spellman, 
 turning to Frank. " Look, I noted down here the num- 
 ber of games at billiards, which everybody won this 
 week past, and see what a prodigious number Mr. Gran- 
 ville won. It is quite surprising, is not it 1 Am not I 
 right 1" 
 
 No, there was an error in the casting up, which Frank 
 corrected. " There should be a nine in place of this 
 naught," said he. 
 
 " Frank is right," said Granville, going over the sum. 
 " Thank you, Spellman. But, Frank, you should not 
 call it naught, you should say aught." 
 36*
 
 426 
 
 FRANK. 
 
 This Cressingham doubted. It was said, with what 
 truth we know not, that all Cambridge scholars call the 
 cipher ought, and all Oxford scholars call it naught. 
 Shaw was intended for Oxford, Granville for Cambridge, 
 and a dispute concerning aughts and naughts arose be- 
 tween them. They neither of them produced any deci- 
 sive arguments, and both began to grow warm. Frank 
 ran for Johnson's great dictionary, and looked for the 
 two words in dispute, and he found that aught is there 
 explained to mean any thing, and naught, nothing ; so 
 that he was inclined to think he should call the cipher, 
 which means nothing, naught. But he did not this time 
 speak till he was asked ; when Granville turned to him 
 and asked what Johnson decided; Frank read it, and 
 Granville looked vexed, and said people were not obliged 
 to submit to Johnson always. 
 
 Spellman had been going on the whole time saying, 
 " Granville's for aughts, I am for aughts who is for 
 aughts 1 What, Frank ! you against Granville 1" 
 
 " Yes," Frank acknowledged ; and this time he spoke 
 very modestly, though steadily, that as far as he had 
 heard and as far as he could judge, he was for naughts. 
 
 " You, sir, are for naughts too, I think, are not you V 
 said Granville, looking haughtily towards Lewis. Lewis 
 said he was. 
 
 Shaw and Power were impatient to go on playing at 
 billiards, and there the matter dropped for the present ; 
 but this slight difference about aughts and naughts had 
 put Granville out of temper. 
 
 Spellman now perceiving that Granville was not pleas- 
 ed with Lewis, took every little opportunity he could find 
 of saying something taunting against him, his school, and 
 his schoolmaster. As there was no other boy present 
 who was of the same school, Lewis had to defend him- 
 self alone, which he did with great spirit and good-hu- 
 mour, till Spellman vanquished, told him that one of 
 the Miss Granvilles was waiting for him to play at chess, 
 and Lewis left the billiard-table. As soon as he was 
 gone, Spellman confessed he did not like him much ; it 
 might be his fault, but he could not like him. " Why ?" 
 asked Frank. To this he answered that he could not 
 tell what it was he did not like, but really he could not 
 like him. If that was all, Frank did not care. Spell- 
 man, however, proceeded to attack him for being too 
 good rather auizz"*- not like other oeople. Frank
 
 PRANK. 427 
 
 defended his friend with all his might. Shaw and Power, 
 partly to provoke him, and partly for diversion, joined 
 Spellman in ridiculing Lewis ; and Frank, far from giv- 
 ing way, became more zealous and eloquent. So eager 
 was he in this cause, that he forgot every now and then 
 his duty of marker for Granville ; Cressingham, how- 
 ever, noted whatever he omitted, and Granville never 
 called upon Frank, or seemed to notice his omissions, 
 but proudly continued playing and naming his own hits, 
 without taking any part either in attack or defence. 
 
 When the game ended, Frank left half finished some 
 sentence in praise of Lewis, and ran to his post to tell 
 how much Granville had won. 
 
 " Pray go back and finish your sentence," said Gran- 
 ville, putting him aside ; " we can do without you." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Frank, " but I was fighting 
 for Lewis." 
 
 " Lewis is obliged to you," said Granville. 
 
 "And I am sure you will not be angry with him," 
 said Cressingham, " for defending his friend behind his 
 back." 
 
 " Angry ! who is angry ?" said Granville. He laid 
 down his cue, and began to twirl a billiard-ball round 
 and round in silence. Shaw and Power now fell into 
 a conversation about blacking for boots. 
 
 " But," said Spellman, pursuing Frank, and speaking 
 so that he was sure Granville heard what he was saying, 
 " do tell me, would you really rather go to Lewis's 
 school than with Mr. Granville ]" 
 
 " To be sure I would," cried Frank. 
 
 " That to be sure, and the emphasis upon it, is not over 
 and above civil," said Spellman, " in my humble opin- 
 ion; nor, after all, over and above grateful." 
 
 " If it is uncivil, I am sorry for it ; I did not mean 
 to be uncivil," said Frank, looking towards Granville, 
 whose face he could not see, but he saw the deep crim- 
 son colour of his ^ears. " Mr. Granville has been very 
 kind to me ever since I came here, and I am sure I am 
 very much obliged to him." 
 
 " Spellman, do let the boy alone. I cannot bear to 
 have thanks forced from people," said Granville, look- 
 ing up for a moment, and then spinning his billiard-ball 
 with increased energy. 
 
 " He did not force my thanks from me. I hope, sir,"
 
 428 FRANK. 
 
 said Frank, laying his hand upon Granville's arm, " that 
 you don't think me ungrateful ?" 
 
 " I do not think about it," said Granville, slightly 
 shaking off his hand. 
 
 " Surely you believe me to be sincere V said Frank, 
 in a very melancholy tone. 
 
 " Only a little too sincere," said Cressingham. 
 
 " Too sincere, that's impossible, surely," said Spell- 
 man. 
 
 " How could I do otherwise," said Frank, appealing 
 alternately to Cressingham and to Mr. Granville. 
 " When Mr. Spellman asked me the direct question, of 
 which 1 would rather go with, I could not answer him 
 any thing but the plain truth." 
 
 " Who blames you T" said Grarwille. " Not I, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " No : but I was afraid you were angry with me, and 
 you have been very kind to me, and I should be exceed- 
 ingly sorry to displease you," said Frank, again putting 
 his hand upon Granville's arm ; and this time Granville 
 did not shake it off. 
 
 " Ah, I do not wonder," said Spellman, " that you are 
 anxious not to displease him. When you go to school, 
 you would be in a fine way indeed without his protec- 
 tion !" 
 
 " I am not thinking of his protection I do not want 
 that," said Frank, indignantly, with an emphasis ex- 
 P,_ jsive of the contempt which he felt for Spellman's 
 meanness. " I do not want his protection," repeated 
 he. 
 
 " Then you shall not have it," said Granville, think- 
 ing, in the confusion of his anger, that the contempt 
 was thrown upon his protection. " Henceforward you 
 shall not have it;" and he walked away, followed offi- 
 ciously by Spellman. Frank stood looking after him, 
 at a loss what to do next ; and he laid his head down 
 upon his hands on the billiard-table, to try to think. 
 
 " Never mind," said Cressingham, Who stood beside 
 him. 
 
 " But I must mind," said Frank ; " for he has been 
 very kind to me." 
 
 " And he will be so again ; never mind, he will come 
 to himself again. In the meantime take my advice 
 whatever happens to you never complain." 
 
 " That, I should scorn to do " said Frank.
 
 FRANK. 429 
 
 " You have a great deal of spirit, and I like you the 
 better for it. But mind you keep your temper, my little 
 lad ; it may be tried, but do not give any hasty answers. 
 Do not fly off from Granville." 
 
 " I fly off! I have no intention of flying off, I am 
 sure," said Frank. 
 
 " Well, well ; but what I mean is, you must bear a 
 little injustice now and then." 
 
 "Must I?" said Frank; "that's very hard; I have 
 never been used to it." 
 
 " Hard or soft, it must be in this world, as you will 
 find. Pray, is it quite settled that you go to school 
 with us ?" 
 
 " Quite, quite settled," said Frank. 
 " Then 1 like you the better for defending your friend 
 Lewis as you did." 
 
 Spellman here returned to say that Granville was 
 asking for Cressingham, to settle about to-morrow's 
 ride. Cressinghara went away with Spellman, but 
 turned back to say, in a low voice to Frank, 
 
 " Take care you do not go and repeat to Lewis any 
 of the things that were said against him." 
 
 " I will not indeed I should never have thought of 
 it," said Frank. " But thank you, I will follow all your 
 good advice." 
 
 The next day, from Granville's morning face, Frank 
 could not guess whether he was pleased or displeased ; 
 but he certainly was not familiar or kind to him as for- 
 merly. Spellman was more flattering even than usual, 
 and seemingly in high favour. He asked permission 
 for some of his relations, an aunt and a cousin of his, to 
 see Bellombre this morning. It was permitted to stran- 
 gers to walk in the grounds two days in the week, but 
 this was not one of them ; however, Granville obtained 
 permission for Spellman's friends, and Spellman would 
 not be of the riding-party ; he would stay at home, to 
 show the beauties of Bellombre to his relations this 
 was such a delight to him, as he said. In all this there 
 was one, and but one thing that interested Frank ; he 
 was glad that the flatterer was not to be of their riding- 
 party. A very pleasant morning, and a delightful ride 
 it was expected to be through the glen to the race- 
 ground, where there were to be races, which Frank was 
 particularly curious to see. But when the saddle-horses 
 were brought to the door, and when the boys and gen-
 
 430 FRANK. 
 
 tlemen all began to mount, Frank was panic struck ; he 
 saw and said, " he feared there were not horses enough 
 for all." 
 
 " Enough for you, as usual," said Granville, beckon- 
 ing to his father's groom to bring forward the pony 
 which Frank had usually ridden ; but there was no horse 
 for Lewis. 
 
 " Now," thought Frank, " as Spellman stays at home, 
 there is his horse surely for Lewis." 
 
 " Well, up with you, what are you fumbling about !" 
 said Shaw. 
 
 Lewis, who knew what passed in his mind, came 
 behind him and whispered, ' Do not say any thing ; go 
 without me, pray." 
 
 The groom fancying, from the earnestness with which 
 Frank had fixed his eyes on the horse, that there was 
 something in his opinion wrong about stirrup or girths, 
 altered them, and Granville dryly said, 
 
 " Come, all's right now ; up with you, Frank, if you 
 please." 
 
 But Frank did not please. " Thank you, sir," said 
 he, " but I would rather not go." 
 
 " Please yourself," said Granville, " only be sure you 
 do so." 
 
 Frank repeated, in a very gentle voice, but quite stead- 
 ily, that he would rather stay at home. 
 
 " Take this horse back to the stable," was all that 
 Granville said ; and, mounting his own horse, he coolly 
 gave some directions to Spellman about sending one of 
 his dogs after him, and rode off without looking again 
 at Frank. When they were thus left, Lewis was be- 
 ginning to say that he was very sorry, but Frank put 
 his hand before Lewis's mouth, and stopped the word. 
 " Do not say sorry, for I am glad ; we shall be very 
 happy together, and if Granville's angry for nothing, I 
 can't help it. Come up with me to your room now, and 
 give me your Epaminondas." 
 
 The manuscript was produced, and Frank rolled a 
 large, huge arm-chair to the table, and established him- 
 self in it, leaning on his elbows, frowning and looking 
 as he said he fancied great critics always look, when 
 they a/e reviewing. He made the author read his theme. 
 His young brow unbending as he listened, he forgot to 
 play the critic's part, and satisfied the author with what
 
 FRANK. 431 
 
 alone, it is said, can satisfy an author, " large draughts 
 of unqualified praise." 
 
 " Now, was not I right, Lewis," said Frank, " to stop 
 the word sorry from coming out of your mouth ? 1 am 
 sure I have been happier this morning than any morn- 
 ing since I came to Bellombre." 
 
 j.-. .' , ', viii- > ->:< Uj /J'i-O'i.'. J 
 
 
 
 BETWEEN sense and nonsense, talking and laughing, 
 the hours passed so quickly that they could hardly be- 
 lieve that it was luncheon-time, when a servant came to 
 summon them down stairs. 
 
 Fraiik and Lewis had made themselves general fa- 
 vourites, by their attentive, polite manners, and by their 
 being always able to employ themselves, so that they 
 were never burdensome to others, especially to the 
 mistress of the house, as idle schoolboys, in the holy- 
 days, always are. The ladies invited them to accom- 
 pany them in a walk which they were going to take in 
 the park, and Frank was delighted to have the pleasure 
 of a walk in company with his mother and Mary too. 
 But as Mary was walking in form, with a Miss Gran- 
 ville on each side of her, and as his mother was listen- 
 ing or talking to Lady Chepstow, there appeared little 
 hope of her ever listening or talking to him. Frank 
 soon grew tired of keeping in a line with them, or of 
 marching in file through narrow passes of the shrubbe- 
 ries. 
 
 " Come, Lewis, let us go. on before," said Frank. 
 
 They went on, but in the midst of a lively conversa- 
 tion Frank stopped short. 
 
 " What is the matter 1 What stops you 1" said Lewis. 
 
 " Don't you see those people who are going round the 
 Temple of Fame ?" said Frank. 
 
 " Only Spellman's party, to whom he was to show the 
 lions," said Lewis. " You know what showing the 
 lions means now ?" 
 
 Frank made no answer, but kept his eyes fixed till the 
 people, who were on the farthest side of the temple, 
 again became visible. 
 
 " It is Tom ! Tom and his mother !" exclaimed Frank ; 
 " I thought I could not be mistaken, but 1 am very sorry 
 I am right." 
 
 Lady Chepstow and the sober walkers having by this
 
 432 FRANK. 
 
 time reached the top of the hill, saw Spellman's party, 
 and her ladyship turned into another path to avoid 
 them. 
 
 *' We must give up the Temple of Fame for this mor- 
 ning," said she, " and take the lower walk. It is a ter- 
 rible thing to have a show-place, where one is always 
 exposed to meeting people." 
 
 They took the lower walk, and Frank hoped that 
 they should never meet Tom and his foolish mother 
 again. 
 
 That hope was vain. It was not Lady Chepstow's 
 fault ; she left them free course and time to depart, but 
 after pursuing the lower walk, and leaving the upper to 
 Spellman and his party, and after making the grand tour 
 of the park, she was compelled to meet them again at 
 the lower gate, where, at the joining of the paths, full 
 they stood before her. How they had managed to walk 
 
 so slow was inconceivable, but so it was. Mrs. J 
 
 came forward, and was surprised and delighted, and de- 
 lighted and surprised, to see Frank and his mother ; and 
 her Tom was so charmed too, she was sure, to see his 
 friend Frank ; he could not speak, of course, but tuck- 
 ing his whip under his arm, he gave Frank such a shake 
 of the hands that Mary shrunk for him. 
 
 Why he is so overjoyed to see me I do not know, 
 thought Frank, withdrawing his squeezed hand ; but I 
 am sorry to see him, though I am afraid this is illna- 
 tured. I wonder he does not ask for Felix. " You will 
 be glad to hear, Tom, that Felix is quite well again," 
 said he. 
 
 " Lord ! so I suppose he is by this ; he has had time 
 plenty. How long do you stop here ?" 
 
 " I do not know," said Frank ; " I suppose till your 
 mother has done talking." 
 
 " But 1 ask you how long you are to be at Bellombre 1" 
 
 " Some days, I believe." 
 
 " And do you go to school ? And when, and where V 
 And a number of other questions Tom abruptly asked, 
 for now he seemed determined to talk to Frank, and he 
 would have seized upon his arm, but that Frank re- 
 treated between the two Miss Granvilles, whom Tom 
 dared not approach. Lady Chepstow had been obliged, 
 as Frank heard her say in a low voice to the governess, 
 to ask them in to rest and take some refreshments, as 
 they seemed friends of
 
 433 
 
 There her ladyship's voice was lost. " Of ours per- 
 haps," said Frank to himself. " What a mistake !" 
 
 Spellman kept up the mistake, however, by rejoicing 
 
 as he did to find that his aunt (for Mrs. J was his 
 
 aunt), and Tom (for Tom was his cousin), were so well 
 acquainted with Frank and his mother ; and it was so 
 lucky that they had the pleasure of meeting at Bel- 
 lombre. 
 
 With Mrs. J and her Tom was her sister, a trav- 
 elled lady, fresh from Italy, but who by her travels had 
 only added new affectation to old vulgarity. In the 
 course of half an hour, while they rested themselves 
 and took some refreshments, Lady Chepstow perceived 
 her mistake, saw that Tom was no friend of Frank's, 
 and that Mrs. J was no favourite of his mother's.. 
 
 Notwithstanding Mrs. J 's admiration of every 
 
 thing she saw at Bellombre, and her travelled sister's de- 
 sire to see the cascade again, which had so much put 
 her in mind of the Acquapendente, that fine fall of water in 
 Italy, on which she had doted ; and though Mrs. J de- 
 clared that she had actually bought a place in the neigh- 1 
 bourhood of Bellombre, and was quite determined to 
 settle there, Lady Chepstow showed no further dispo- 
 sition to cultivate their acquaintance. When their stay 
 had been protracted to its utmost decent length, Spell- 
 man was quietly suffered to ring the bell for their car- 
 riage ; but as they were departing, he asked and obtain- 
 ed permission for them to see the Italian pictures in the 
 great drawing-room, and he extended that permission 
 to showing them the whole house. As soon as they 
 had left the room, Lady Chepstow observed that Spell- 
 man was an excellent creature, but that really he had a 
 sad horde of vulgar relations, with whom they must not 
 be overrun. 
 
 One of the Miss Granvilles sat with Mary near the 
 window, and from time to time looked out at the car- 
 riage, which waited long at the door. " Here's Horace 
 and the gentlemen come back from their ride," said 
 Miss Granville. 
 
 " Now Mrs. J is getting into her carriage," said 
 
 Mary. A minute afterward Miss Granville came to her 
 mother, and said in French, 
 
 " Mamma, my brother is bringing back that boy." i 
 
 " Oh, my dear, impossible ! he would not be so bar- 
 barous either to me or the boy." 
 T 37
 
 434 FRANK. 
 
 " But I assure you, ma'am, I saw Spellman say some- 
 thing to Horace, and he touched the boy on the back 
 with his whip as he was getting up into the barouche- 
 seat, and took him down. There, the carriage has driv- 
 en off, and without him !" 
 
 So Frank and Mary saw to their sorrow. 
 
 Horace came in, and whispered to his mother some 
 thin* ending with, " Spellman did so wish it," to which 
 she replied, 
 
 " You can refuse Spellman nothing, that is the truth, 
 my dear Horace ; but really I do not wonder at it, for 
 Spellman is the most attached creature, and has ever 
 been so from his cradle." 
 
 "Tom will sleep in Spellman's room, ma'am, and 
 shall be no trouble to you," said Granville. 
 
 " The boy will be miserable here, I am sure ; but that 
 is his affair and yours, my dear Horace." 
 
 Miserable and miserably awkward Tom looked when 
 he reappeared in the drawing-room during the trying 
 five minutes before dinner. He stuck close to his cousin 
 Spellman's pocket, but Spellman forcibly took the be- 
 loved whip from his hands; and, bereft of that, Tom did 
 not know what to do with his hands; and first one 
 clinched, as if he was going to box with it, stopped his 
 mouth needlessly ; and when that hand was pulled down 
 by fidgety Spellman, Tom took to buttoning and unbut- 
 toning one and the same button of his waistcoat con- 
 tinually. Frank recollected his own trick of buttoning 
 and unbuttoning the sleeve of his coat when he was a 
 child, and was glad he had cured himself of it. Now 
 good-naturedly pitying Tom, he once thought of speak- 
 ing to him ; but he guessed from what he had seen that 
 this would only increase his embarrassment, or expose 
 him to the danger of giving some gruff, brutal answer. 
 
 Lady Chepstow, who, as she said afterward, was 
 really curious to hear the sound of Tom's voice, asked 
 if he had been amused with the pictures, to which he 
 answered, " I don't know." 
 
 Spellman, very judiciously, hauled him off into the 
 antechamber, to look at some picture which he had not 
 seen, and which he was sure Tom must like. 
 
 When they were going to dinner, Lady Chepstow 
 said to her son, as her eye glanced at Tom, " That 
 young gentleman is under your protection." 
 
 " And he shall have it," said Horace, taking Tom by
 
 PRANK. 435 
 
 the hand, and as he passed by Frank, he added, " unless 
 he disdains it." 
 
 At dinner Tom was placed on one side of Mr. Gran- 
 ville, and Frank took his usual seat on the other side. 
 All dinner-time the conversation, unhappily for Frank, 
 turned upon the joys of the races, which he had not 
 seen. Tom could take some part in what was said ; for 
 though he had not been at the race to-day, he had seen 
 races in his life often. Squire Rogers had taken him to 
 the races last week ; and with this superiority over 
 Frank, and with the assistance of some, we dare not 
 say how many, glasses of wine, he got over his bash- 
 fulness famously. He talked of horses, he thought, 
 almost as well as anybody. 
 
 Frank did not hear all that was said ; he only heard 
 now and then, at the beginning and end of every sen- 
 tence, the word horse "Your horse," "my horse," 
 " his horse. 1 ' 
 
 Fond as Frank was of horses, he might have been a 
 little tired during this dinner by hearing of nothing else. 
 
 But, in fact, Frank was thinking chiefly of Granville's 
 altered manner towards him. Frank had been in hopes 
 that his displeasure, of which he did not clearly know 
 the cause, would have worn off, but it seemed to be 
 coldly fixed. Frank, who was quite unused to a capri- 
 cious or a jealous temper, who had never before seen 
 the eye of kindness alter towards him, except in conse- 
 quence of some fault of his own, now not only felt un- 
 happy, but feared that he must have been to blame. 
 This was what he was considering, when Tom, much 
 elevated by the notice which had been taken of him, 
 turned to him at the time of the desert, and said, in an 
 insulting tone. 
 
 "You do not eat, man you don't drink, man you 
 don't speak, man; you seem to be quite down at the 
 mouth." 
 
 "Come, we must get up your spirits again," said 
 Spellman, immediately offering to fill his glass ; Frank 
 drew it back, thanked him, but refused ; adding, that his 
 spirits could do without wine. 
 
 " The English of which is, I suppose," said Shaw, 
 " that he is not allowed to drink wine." 
 
 *' True," whispered Spellman, loud enough for Frank 
 to hear ; " Tom tells me he is kept as tight as a drum at 
 home." 
 
 T2
 
 436 FRANK. 
 
 " Not true !" cried Frank, indignantly, " as yon know, 
 Tom," Cressingham gave him a look that reminded 
 him of his resolution to keep his temper, whatever hap- 
 pened, and Frank, restraining his indignation, stopped 
 short. 
 
 " It is not very honourable to listen to whispers in 
 company," said Spellman. 
 
 " I did not listen, Mr. Spellman," replied Frank, in a 
 carefully calm voice, " but you whispered so loudly 
 that I could not help hearing you." 
 
 " Little pitchers, as mamma always says, have long 
 ears," said Tom, laughing at this great effort of wit. 
 
 " Little pitcher," said Shaw, addressing Frank, " you 
 look, methinks, as if you were too hot to hold." 
 
 " He only wants to be seasoned," said Cressingham, 
 " and if I am not mistaken, he will stand the season- 
 ing." 
 
 " That is to be proved," said Power. " Here is to 
 you, cool Captain Drinkwater !" 
 
 " Captain Drinkwater's, cool Captain Drinkwater's 
 good health !" Power, and Shaw, and Spellman, Tom 
 and all, insultingly drank. 
 
 Frank took this with the utmost good-humour, but he 
 was sorry that Granville did not, as formerly, say to 
 Spellman, " Let the boy do as he pleases ;" or to Shaw 
 and Power, " Let him alone, if you please." 
 
 Tom, feeling himself backed and encouraged by others, 
 and having an old envy of Frank, pursued his polite mode 
 of questioning. " After all, pray why, Frank, were not 
 you at the races this morning with the others 1" 
 
 Before Frank could answer, Shaw answered for him 
 
 " Because, as I understand, he quarrelled with his 
 bread and butter." 
 
 " No," said Spellman, " only because he did not know 
 on which side his bread was buttered." 
 
 " You have not hit it yet," said Cressingham, " and 
 no wonder : it was a cause you would never think of, 
 Spellman." 
 
 Spellman looked curious. 
 
 " Simply because he would not desert a friend when 
 out of favour," said Cressingham. 
 
 Granville coloured, and casting his eyes down upon 
 Frank, who was looking up anxiously in his face, moved 
 a dish of cherries towards him. 
 
 " Do you wish for cherries?"
 
 FRANK. 437 
 
 " No, thank you, sir." 
 
 There was a tremulous sound in Frank's voice, which 
 touched Granville ; but, turning abruptly to the other side, 
 he heaped Tom's plate with cherries, which Tom began 
 to devour, saying, " More fool you !" 
 
 Granville, disgusted with Tom, turned back to Frank, 
 but felt a bashful difficulty in recovering from his fit of 
 illhumour. On one side, he was ashamed that his 
 friend should see his injustice ; on the other, that his 
 flatterer should think he gave up his dignity. He had 
 said to Spellman in private that he would make Frank 
 feel the difference between having and not having his 
 protection. From this resolution he fancied that he 
 could not recede. His countenance, which had relaxed, 
 again grew rigid ; he turned away from Frank, and sunk 
 into haughty silence. 
 
 Frank sighed once, but sighed no more. The ladies 
 at last rose to leave the room, and Tom, rising with a 
 cherry in his hand, and another in his mouth, swallowed 
 hastily and exclaimed, " I swallowed a stone ! I don't 
 know what other folk think, but I think cherries should 
 have no stones." 
 
 When Frank followed the ladies into the drawing- 
 room, he saw Mary and the Miss Granvilles in a recess 
 at the farthest end of the room, with Mademoiselle de 
 Cambrai, their governess. 
 
 Coffee came, and Frank and Lewis stood with the 
 ladies, who were drinking coffee, but Frank's eyes 
 turned anxiously towards the young party. 
 
 " They are capping verses, I believe," said Lady 
 Chepstow. " Young gentlemen, would you like to join 
 them ?" 
 
 " Like it ! oh yes." Frank and Lewis thanked her 
 ladyship, and joined them instantly. 
 
 " Quick as the needle to the magnet !" said Lady 
 Chepstow " not of the repellent class of schoolboy 
 savages." Her ladyship walked to the recess, stood 
 for some minutes listening to what was going on, and 
 observed that Miss Mary was quite expert, and seemed 
 to know great deal of poetry. No, Mary knew very 
 few verses, the Miss Granville's knew a great many 
 more. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cambrai remarked that it was not 
 always those who know the greatest number, but those 
 who could recollect most quickly, who in this trial of 
 37*
 
 438 FRANK. 
 
 skill would be likely to conquer. Lady Chepstow, 
 taking a rose from her bosom, put it into Mademoiselle 
 de Cambrai's hand, to be given to the conqueror, who- 
 ever she or he might be. The contest went on briskly 
 for one quarter of an hour, but in due time letters grew 
 scarce. Some people were put to their ;>'s and y's, 
 some were in straits for r's, some for c's ; but at last, 
 unexpectedly, all were non-plus'd for a d. Such an 
 easy letter! Everybody thought they had hundreds, 
 yet could produce none to save their lives, till Frank, at 
 the last gasp, cried 
 
 " Die of a rose in aromatic pain." 
 
 All the Miss Granvilles exclaimed that they were angry 
 with themselves for not having recollected this common, 
 easy line. It was like Columbus's egg, and a hundred 
 others, provokingly easy when found out. When the 
 victor rose was presented to Frank, he doubted whether 
 he fairly deserved it ; for he acknowledged that he had 
 never read the line, and did not even know where it 
 came from ; he had only picked it up that morning, from 
 having heard Mademoiselle de Cambrai repeat it: he 
 added, that he believed it had been fixed in his mem- 
 ory by his surprise, on hearing a French lady pronounce 
 English so well. 
 
 The gentlemen came into the drawing-room soon 
 afterward ; Lady Chepstow said something to Frank's 
 father, with which he seemed pleased, and Mary thought 
 it was about Frank. Her ladyship beckoned to her 
 son, and seemed to repeat the same thing, ending with 
 the words, " so intelligent, and so well mannered." 
 Mary, observing that Mr. Granville turned coldly away, 
 then thought, that his mother could not have been 
 speaking of Frank. She next saw Spellman and Tom 
 come in after the gentlemen. Tom regularly grew 
 sulky the moment he came among girls or women. 
 Mademoiselle de Camhrai not knowing this particularity, 
 and seeing a young stranger looking forlorn, thought it 
 civil to speak to him. But, unluckily, she took it for 
 granted that he had heard what everybody was talking 
 of; she therefore asked Tom if he ever capped verses. 
 Tom first looked angry at being spoken to, then upon 
 the question being repeated, replied 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 Mademoiselle took the trouble to explain what she
 
 FRANK. 439 
 
 now imagined he had never heard of before ; and Tom 
 at last said, 
 
 " As if I didn't know all that ! But I cap Latin only 
 girls cap English." 
 
 Mademoiselle, thus repulsed, retreated. 
 
 Lady Chepstow's eye fell upon Tom's vulgar figure, 
 as he stood moving from leg to leg ; and Spellman car- 
 ried him off to a distance. Lady Chepstow then turn- 
 ing to her son, who stood by her, said, " I wish people 
 would teach their children to speak and to stand, be- 
 fore one is expected to bear them." 
 
 " It is only for a day or two, madam," said her son, 
 " and for me." 
 
 " For Spellman, you mean, my dear Horace : any 
 thing for you ; but Spellman must not ask this again. 
 Really your sisters are not used to see at Bellombre 
 such an uncommonly vulgar object." 
 
 " Half of it is bashfulness, ma'am, for which you 
 make no allowance." 
 
 " And for which, no wonder, you make too much, my 
 dear Horace ; but, thank Heaven, there is some differ- 
 ence between plebeian and aristocratic mauvaise honte." 
 
 With this thanksgiving, Lady Chepstow walked away. 
 Her excessive severity against faults of manner in Tom, 
 and her exaggerated encomium on what deserved but 
 slight praise in Frank, confirmed her son in his obsti- 
 nate wish to see the one abased, and to raise the other 
 by his protection. He knew that Shaw was prepared to 
 quiz Frank, and in the noble art of quizzing, Shaw was, 
 for his age, a distinguished proficient. There was one 
 point on which Frank, in common with most boys who 
 had been bred at home, and happy at home, are uncom- 
 monly tender, and apt to lay themselves open to ridicule. 
 He was disposed to think that what he had seen or 
 done in his own family was better than what could be 
 seen or done anywhere else. Lewis had warned him 
 not to talk of home at Bellombre, and Frank thought 
 he had been particularly guarded on this subject, but it 
 was a topic to which he involuntarily recurred. He 
 was at this instant talking away to Mademoiselle de 
 Cambrai, who had won his confidence, and who was 
 questioning him, with sincere interest, concerning all 
 he did at home. Shaw posted himself beside her, and 
 listened with a mock interest, by which Frank, unused 
 to irony, or what is called persiflage, was deceived.
 
 440 FRANK. 
 
 When Mademoiselle de Cambrai rose to retire with 
 the young ladies, the eldest Miss Granville was per 
 milled to stay, to play at chess with Lewis a favour 
 which excited no small envy. Frank and his friend 
 were one in the opinion of this little public, and he 
 shared the stroke of envy. Shaw carried him off to 
 the billiard-room ; but there was to be no billiards this 
 night, for Power had cut his thumb. GranviUe took up 
 a book, Cressingham did the same ; and Shaw, appa- 
 rently in a most good-natured manner, went on talking 
 to Frank, whom he said he had never known really 
 well till now. 
 
 " So I find,'' continued he, " that this Tom was quite 
 wrong in telling us you were kept as tight as a drum at 
 home what were you saying to Mademoiselle de Cam- 
 farai 1 Do tell me more of your ways of going on in 
 your own family." 
 
 This was to Frank an irresistible temptation. Shaw 
 led him on from one thing to another, while Power and 
 Tom joined them to listen. Frank believed that Shaw 
 was really as much interested as he pretended to be ; 
 and he went on for some time without suspicion, till at 
 last, when he stopped to take breath, Shaw, in a voice 
 which he now perceived to be the tone of mockery, 
 began to sum up all he had heard for the derision of the 
 by-standers. 
 
 " So," said he, "let me count how many trades you 
 are to have :" he counted them upon his fingers : " you 
 are to be a cobbler, and a carpenter, and a turner, and a 
 tanner, a basket-maker, and a bricklayer, a surveyor, an 
 astronomer royal, AND a tallow-chandler." 
 
 " Jack of all trades, and master of none," said Power. 
 
 " You are to learn Virgil from your gardener, and 
 spinning from darling Mrs. Wheeler; and what are you 
 to learn from the other charming old woman, dear Mrs. 
 Catharine ?" 
 
 " Boxing, I suppose," said Tom, bursting into a horse 
 laugh. 
 
 " The most useful of all," said Power, " the only 
 useful thing he has learnt for school." 
 
 " How can you say soV cried Shaw, in his ironical 
 tone. " Don't you know that Frank, the incomparable, 
 has been preparing for school for this last year, and 
 that best of friends, Lewis, and his papa, and his engi-
 
 FRANK. 441 
 
 neer, and his colonel, have all been helping; strange 
 indeed if he were not preciously prepared." 
 
 " Ay, ay, prepared for Lewis's model-school may be," 
 said Power, " but he will soon see the difference." 
 
 "Beg your pardon, Power," said Shaw, "depend upon 
 it we shall see the difference between him and all other 
 boys that ever were bred or born," and Shaw sung from 
 Midas, 
 
 " Cock of the school, 
 He bears despotic rule !' " 
 
 In this style they went on for some time. Frank 
 took the jest, all unprepared as he was, very well, and 
 stood being their laughing-stock steadily enough for 
 some time, even to Cressingham's satisfaction, and to 
 Granville's surprise. Cressingham looked up often 
 from his book, to mark how it was going on with Frank ; 
 and frequently and hastily turned over a new leaf. 
 Granville did not move his eyes from his book, but 
 never turned over the page. 
 
 The jest was carried on too far and too long; and 
 presently Power audaciously asserted, that all Frank 
 had ever learned was stuff and nonsense, that all that 
 had been done for him had been ill done ; and that it 
 was a shame his father and mother had not more sense 
 than to make such a fool of a boy. 
 
 Power pronounced that Frank would be the butt of 
 the whole school, to whatever school he went; and 
 with Power, Shaw, Spellman, and delighted Tom, loud- 
 ly joined in full cry. 
 
 Imagine Frank's astonishment; the confusion into 
 which all his ideas and feelings were thrown, when 
 thus, for the first time in his existence, he heard every 
 thing questioned which he thought unquestionable, 
 every thing he had been taught to respect, every person 
 he held dear turned into ridicule. If it had not been 
 for the surprise into which he was thrown by these 
 questions, he knew he could easily have answered them. 
 The attacks he did not know how to parry, because he 
 was assailed on subjects which seemed to him to re- 
 quire no defence, or which he had deemed invulnerable. 
 He was attacked on so many points at once, that he ran 
 backwards and forwards, and to opposite sides, and be- 
 fore he knew where he was, or which was feint or 
 which was real war, he heard the shout of victory, and 
 T3
 
 442 FRANK, 
 
 found himself trampled upon by the meanest of the ene- 
 my, even by Tom. 
 
 " I may go to bed now," said Tom, " Frank has not a 
 word to say for himself. I believe he is going to cry 
 for papa and mamma, as he did for the horse." 
 
 " You meanest of creatures !" exclaimed Frank, his 
 eyes flashing indignation. 
 
 " Hey-day !" cried Granville, in a loud voice, putting 
 down his book. 
 
 Frank saw his enemies encompassing him. Shaw 
 with hand on hip, and with his provoking air and inso- 
 lent tone. Spellman with his mean smile and perfidious 
 pity. Tom making his vulgar grimaces behind backs, 
 and Power full in front, Colossus-like, stood bullying. 
 
 Thoughts of vengeance rose in Frank's soul as he 
 looked upon them thoughts of oversetting Power, box- 
 ing Shaw, kicking Spellman, and turning Tom out of 
 the room. But, as his hand rose, and his foot stepped 
 forward, he saw Cressingham's eye upon him ; his 
 promise to keep his temper smote him. 
 
 He rushed between Tom and Spellman, made his way 
 through the crowd, ran out, gained his own room, and 
 bolted the door. His agitation was great. He threw 
 himself, face downwards on the bed ; he struggled ; he 
 swallowed ; he conquered. He shed not a tear. In a 
 few minutes some one knocked at the door. " Who is 
 there ?" said Frank. 
 
 He was answered " a friend." But it was Spellman's 
 voice, and Frank replied " that he could not let him in." 
 
 " I've brought you a candle," said Spellman. 
 
 " I do not want one," said Frank. 
 
 " He is crying," said another voice, which he knew 
 to be Tom's. Frank flung open the door directly, wide 
 as the brazen hinges could fly. 
 
 " I thought you were crying." said Tom. 
 
 " You thought wrong," answered Frank. 
 
 " I went to your mother's room first ; I thought you 
 were there complaining of us," said Spellman. 
 
 " Y'ou see you were mistaken," said Frank, holding 
 the door against them. 
 
 "But I have something to say to you," said Spell- 
 man, in a fawning tone. 
 
 " I have nothing to say to you," said Frank, closing 
 the door. 
 
 They lingered for some minutes, till they heard his
 
 PRANK. ' 443 
 
 mother coming along the gallery, and then quickly re- 
 treated. Frank went out to meet her, and said, 
 
 " Mother, I cannot come do not ask me any ques- 
 tions good-night." 
 
 " Good-night, my dear Frank," said she, " I ask no 
 questions ; I have the most perfect confidence in you." 
 
 Spellman stayed to listen, he must have been vexexl 
 to have heard only these words. From a few remarks 
 he had caught in going through the billiard-room, Lewis 
 had a general guess at what had been passing, and hear- 
 ing Frank give his mother this answer, he retired to his 
 own room, without going near him. 
 
 Frank lay awake nearly two hours, which, at his age, 
 seems a prodigious length of time, really the whole 
 night. He thought over all that had passed, perceived 
 the answers he should have given, wondered that they 
 had never occurred to him at the right moment, and in 
 the midst of an eloquent reply, such as he was deter- 
 mined to make next time to Shaw and Power, he at last 
 fell asleep. 
 
 AFTER some hours sound sleep, Frank wakened in the 
 morning, and, stretching himself, recollected that some- 
 thing painful had happened the preceding evening. As 
 he put back the curtain, he saw Lewis sitting in the 
 room reading, waiting till he wakened. Lewis told 
 him, that though he did not know the particulars of 
 what had passed yesterday evening, he had learned, in 
 general, that Frank had been talking a great deal of his 
 own home, and that Shaw had been laughing at him, 
 and quizzing him. 
 
 " I remember," said Lewis, " the first time I left my 
 own family, I was quite surprised, just as you are, at 
 finding things different from what I had been used to. I 
 thought that nothing could be so well done as at home, 
 and 1 said so upon every occasion ; I was laughed at for 
 this, and then 1 learned to keep my thoughts to myself." 
 
 " So will I next time," said Frank. 
 
 " And when I found," continued Lewis, " that nobody 
 cared what I did at home, I left off talking about it." 
 
 "But," said Frank, " Shaw made me believe he did 
 care about it, and that led me on last night, and made
 
 444 PRANK. 
 
 me forget your advice ; he deceived me he cheated 
 me, only to laugh at me afterward. 
 
 " That kind of cheating is called quizzing, by men 
 and schoolboys," said Lewis, " and is thought a good 
 joke, and very witty." 
 
 "I see no wit in it," said Frank, his anger again 
 rising at the recollection of his having been laughed at ; 
 " but the joke cannot do again, because, now I know 
 that people mean to deceive me, I shall not be taken in 
 another time. ' Once to deceive be his, but twice were 
 mine.' " 
 
 " Cressingham told me," said Lewis, " that you got 
 through it very well, considering it was the first time of 
 quizzing." 
 
 " The first time ! I hope it will be the last," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Oh, do not flatter yourself with that hope, my dear 
 Frank," said Lewis. 
 
 " What 1 Is this to go on for ever ?" said Frank. " If 
 they laugh at me continually in this way at school, I 
 am afraid I shall be very unhappy." 
 
 " That you will, indeed, my dear Frank, if you mind 
 such things," said Lewis. " If once the boys find that 
 they can vex you by laughing, you will have no peace, 
 they will only laugh the more. I remember hearing a 
 story of a boy, who was afterward a very celebrated 
 man, whose hair had been shaved off in some illness, 
 and who was forced to wear a wig when he first went 
 to school ; and his schoolfellows plagued him perpetual- 
 ly, pulling it off, till he began to laugh at it himself, and 
 snatching it off his head one day, he threw it up to the 
 ceiling, and was the first to kick it about ; from that 
 time they never laughed at him. I recollected this for 
 my own benefit when first I went to school ; I don't 
 mean that I had a wig, but I happened to have a brown 
 hat, when all the other boys had black hats, and they 
 ridiculed me for my brown hat, till I laughed at it my- 
 self, and then, when they found they could not vex me, 
 they let me and my hat alone." 
 
 "That was well done of you," said Frank, "and I 
 will remember the hat and wig, if I can, the next time 
 I am laughed at. But Lewis, though this will do for 
 trifles, it will not do when we come to be serious." 
 
 " But you must not be serious ; you take the matter 
 too gravely," said Lewis.
 
 FRANK. 445 
 
 " Indeed, I think it grew serious," said Frank, " when 
 they said that all that had ever been taught me was 
 quite wrong." 
 
 " Pooh ! what signifies what they say," cried Lewis. 
 " Can their saying it is wrong make it so V 
 
 " Certainly net !" said Frank ; " if they had given me 
 any reasons, I could have answered them, but they only 
 said the same thing over and over again. And when it 
 came to laughing at me for loving my mother so much 
 my dear Lewis, I could not get out a word, I had so 
 much to say, and I felt " 
 
 " Oh, you felt too much, a great deal, about it. You 
 are not used to quizzing schoolboys," said Lewis. 
 
 " What I felt most of all was Mr. Granville's unkind- 
 ness in not saying a word to help me," said Frank. 
 
 " I think he was very illnatured," said Lewis. 
 
 " Oh, my dear Lewis," continued Frank, " the more I 
 see and feel, the more I am sorry that I am not to go to 
 school with you, for with you I should have a good 
 friend, who would advise me in every difficulty." 
 
 Lewis was exceedingly sorry, too, that he could not 
 have Frank ; but since it could not be, it was in vain to 
 regret it. 
 
 *'I see Granville is ao capricious, I cannot under- 
 stand him," said Frank. " He will never be satisfied 
 unless I flatter him, and I never will flatter him. He 
 wants to show me, I believe, that I cannot do without 
 his protection." 
 
 " Just so," said Lewis, " and do you show him that 
 you can. He will respect you, and like you the better 
 for it ; at all events, I am sure Cressingham will be a 
 good friend to you, and I say to you, as he did, ' keep 
 your temper, and I will stand by you.' And as to 
 school, do not be afraid of the quizzing, either for trifles 
 or serious things; remember, you may always have 
 fair laugh for laugh, or fair reason for reason, or fair 
 boxing for boxing." 
 
 " Fair boxing ! oh, that is what I want to come to,'* 
 said Frank. " I must learn how to box. You must 
 teach me." 
 
 " You will learn it easily, that is, when you have 
 
 been beaten half a dozen times," said Lewis, laughing ; 
 
 " but you cannot begin to learn it this minute. Finish 
 
 dressing yourself, for the breakfast-bell has rung. All 
 
 38
 
 446 FRANK. 
 
 SDU have to do here is to go on as you have begun, 
 o not let them put you out of humour." 
 
 " I will not, if I can possibly help it," said Frank ; 
 " but Power is so rough, and Shaw is so teasing, and 
 Spellman is so mean, and Tom, now he has jumped out 
 of his bashfulness, is so impudent." 
 
 " True, but never mind all that," said Lewis. " You 
 have only a few days more to spend with them, and it 
 signifies little what they think of you, or your educa- 
 tion, or your father and mother. And as to Granville, 
 if he does not behave well to you, depend upon it your 
 father is attending to all that goes on, and he will see it 
 without your complaining." 
 
 Fortified in this manner by his good friend Lewis's 
 advice, Frank did keep up his spirits, did not mind their 
 foolish laughing at him, and was steady in his own 
 right way. In vain Shaw and Power teased and quizzed 
 him ; he took it all in good part, and with great good- 
 humour. One trial he had, which it was indeed hard to 
 stand, particularly as it was on a point, the right and 
 wrong of which he had not determined to his own satis- 
 faction. By what he had accidently heard from Shaw 
 and Power, he was afraid he should not know how to 
 make honour and good-nature to his schoolfellows al- 
 ways agree with his obedience to his masters and with 
 truth. 
 
 One day he chanced to come into the room, when 
 Messrs. Shaw and Power, and some of the young people 
 were talking together very eagerly, but all the voices 
 ceased the moment he entered ; he heard only from Shaw 
 the words " the boat !" and " Hush! here's Frank coming." 
 
 " And what harm shall I do you ?" said Frank. 
 
 "I don't know," said Tom, " but I know I would not 
 trust you." 
 
 " Not trust me V said Frank, " that is very unjust." 
 
 " That's like him," cried Power, " always talking of 
 injustice, as if anybody cared what he thinks unjust 
 a little hop-o'-my-thumb like him." 
 
 " My being little has nothing to do with the business," 
 said Frank ; " but since you don't like to go on with 
 what you were saying before me, I will go away." 
 
 " O let him stay," said one of Shaw's sisters, a pretty 
 young lady, who was present ; " he will do no harm." 
 
 " Only he tells his mamma every thing he sees and 
 hears," said Shaw ; " you know he acknowledges he
 
 FRANK. 447 
 
 does not rightly understand our points of honour ; and I 
 will engage that he cannot keep a secret." 
 
 " I understand what I think honourable," said Frank, 
 " and I can keep a secret as well as anybody, when I 
 choose it ; but I don't want to know yours, so I shall 
 go away." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! grandissimo !" cried Shaw, setting his back 
 against the door, to prevent Frank from going out. 
 " Stay, now : pray now, you who know every thing, 
 do you know how to make good excuses for a friend in 
 need 1 for I assure you that's part of the business of a 
 fag at school ; else how could he keep his master's se- 
 crets 1 Come, try your skill, let us see what sort of an 
 excuse you can make. Suppose now thus : I have 
 gone down to the boat, and nobody is to know it, you 
 understand, and you are asked where I am gone " 
 
 " I cannot tell a lie, if that's what you mean," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Ah, you see," said Tom, " didn't I tell you ? didn't I 
 know him 1 ?" 
 
 "If my fag were to give me such an answer at 
 school," said Power, " I'd soon settle him, that's cer- 
 tain." 
 
 " One comfort is, I am never to be your fag," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " You cannot conceive, then, that there may be a dif- 
 ference," said Shaw, " between telling a fib to save your 
 friend when he asks you, and a lie to save yourself!" 
 
 " I know there is some difference," said Frank. 
 
 " But," said Shaw, " you would not save your friend 
 is that it 1 You would not stick to him, you would 
 betray him." 
 
 " That I am sure I never should," cried Frank : " I 
 never shall betray anybody." 
 
 " But if you always tell the truth, you must." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Mr. Shaw ; you only want 
 to puzzle me. I will never betray anybody, but I will 
 always tell the truth, and that is all I have to say, so let 
 me go." 
 
 " Here is our boatman," said Power. " We shall have 
 better sport now than plaguing this foolish boy ;" and 
 Shaw opening the door, Frank ran off, seized his hat, 
 and darted out, hoping to have a pleasant walk with 
 Lewis; but as he ran down the sloping lawn, Shaw 
 called to nun, and, on his turning back, said,
 
 448 PRANK. 
 
 " Remember, my little man, you said you could keep 
 a secret : don't say any thing to anybody if you guess 
 what we are going to do." 
 
 " Not unless I am asked," answered Frank. 
 
 " And if you are asked, cannot you say you don't 
 know ?" 
 
 " No, I cannot, because I heard some of you say the 
 word boat, and I guess what you are going to do." 
 
 Shaw muttered something like an oath ; Frank did not 
 stay to hear it, but ran down the sloping lawn to the 
 river side, where he expected to find Lewis. As he 
 went on in search of him, he met two boatmen, who, 
 talking to each other, said, " There is coming on a 
 squall ; if these young chaps go out without us, they will 
 repent it." 
 
 " True ; I shall go in and smoke my pipe with you at 
 the lodge," answered the other. 
 
 Frank could not find Lewis, but he pursued his walk 
 alone through a grove to a high bank, from which, be- 
 tween the trees, he could see the river, and presently 
 he saw a little pleasure-boat coming along with several 
 people in it, Shaw, and Power, and Tom rowing. Two 
 ladies were in the boat, two Miss Shaws, who were 
 fond of being in every adventure and party of pleasure, 
 or, as Shaw said, were up to any thing. Lady Chep- 
 stow had forbidden the using of this boat, which even her 
 lord said was a dangerous little cockle-shell. The boat- 
 man's prophecy was not accomplished, no squall arose ; 
 but by their own awkwardness, by Power's obstinacy, 
 as Shaw said or by Shaw's conceit, as Power would 
 have it, they ran the boat too near the shore ; then 
 shoving her off again, they tilted her so much, that the 
 ladies, terrified, caught at some branches of trees which 
 hung over the spot ; and to these they clung screaming, 
 while the boat went from under their feet. The 
 branches to which they hung stretched to a great dis- 
 tance from land. The boat overset ; Power and Shaw 
 were plunged into the water. Tom, at the first symp- 
 tom of danger, jumped on shore. Frank ran down the 
 bank ; his first thought was to call the boatmen, but he 
 saw the imminent danger of one of the ladies, who, 
 clinging as she was to a weak bough, seemed weighed 
 down by her cloak, the hood of which had filled with 
 water. Frank threw off his coat, and knowing well 
 how to swim, swam round till he got opposite to her>
 
 FRANK. 449 
 
 untied the cloak, and the moment she was free from its 
 weight she rose again. By this time Shaw and Power 
 had swam and scrambled to the bank, from which Pow- 
 er would not again stir, but he held out an oar, which 
 was of some service. Shaw, seeing his sisters' peril, 
 swam to their assistance, while Frank, regaining the 
 bank, ran to the porter's lodge for thg boatmen. Tom, 
 to whom he had repeatedly called, begging him to go 
 for them, stood quite disabled or obstinate. The boat- 
 men came, the two ladies were released from their per- 
 ilous situation, and brought safely to land. All drenched 
 and fatigued as they were, they had to walk home, a 
 mile by a back way, to avoid being seen from the win- 
 dows of the house. No sooner did the ladies recover 
 from one danger, than, in the midst of their gratitude to 
 Frank, fears of another nature rose, and Shaw whis- 
 pered, " He will never be able to refrain from boasting 
 how finely he has saved you." Frank took no notice 
 of these whispers, but went home, took off his wet 
 clothes, gave them to Shaw to have them dried with his 
 own, reappeared in the drawing-room, and never said 
 one word of their adventure. No questions were asked 
 him : he left the rest of the party to say what they 
 pleased for themselves, and despised them for the false 
 excuses they made. One of the Miss Shaws, who had 
 been too much drenched to reappear this evening, sent 
 word that she had gone to bed ill with a headache, and 
 her sister, who, as most people said, had great sensibil- 
 ity, stayed to nurse her. Stupid Power, half asleep, 
 when called to billiards, let out something of his arms 
 being too much tired with rowing. The word rowing 
 caught Lady Chepstow's ear, and turning, she immedi- 
 ately asked who talked of rowing. 
 
 " Power talked of it, ma'am, in his sleep," said Shaw; 
 " I suppose he was dreaming of rowing." 
 
 " But," added Spellman, in his courtly tone, " he 
 never would dream of disobeying your ladyship's orders, 
 I am sure." 
 
 " Frank looks very guilty," said Lady Chepstow. 
 
 " Perhaps I look guilty, but I am innocent," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Have you been out in the boat, Frank ?" said Lady 
 Chepstow, eagerly. 
 
 " I have not, I assure you, ma'am," said Frank, and 
 he quietly went on with his game of draughts 
 37*
 
 450 FRANK. 
 
 But Lady Chepstow, following the hint which Mr. 
 Power had let out, rang for her own man, and sent him 
 with such instructions and such silver tokens to the 
 boatmen, as soon put her in possession of the principal 
 fact, that a party had been out in the boat ; this, indeed, 
 could not be denied, from the place in which it was 
 found by the servant, at a considerable distance from its 
 natural home in the boathouse. 
 
 Lady Chepstow now said that she had a beautiful new 
 boat, which she had intended the young gentlemen 
 should have had the pleasure of launching the next day ; 
 but she declared she never would permit this boat to be 
 launched by them till the mystery was cleared up by 
 some one of the company, concerning the boating-party 
 of this morning. " And," added her ladyship, " whoever 
 clears it up shall have the launching of the boat. Frank, 
 what say you ?" 
 
 " 1 say nothing, madam," said Frank. 
 
 Power and Shaw, as soon as Lady Chepstow was out 
 of hearing, observed, that they did not care, as they 
 should go away so soon, and they had had boating 
 enough for this season. 
 
 Frank was exceedingly sorry to give up boating in the 
 new boat : it would have been a pleasure, and the 
 launching it would have been glorious ; but he was 
 steady. Never by word, or look, or sigh, did he betray 
 them ; and without departing in the slightest degree 
 from the truth, he kept their secret. He refrained from 
 claiming the honour of having saved the ladies, and 
 never told what he had done, to his father, mother, or 
 Mary. 
 
 The ladies were satisfied and surprised by his secre- 
 cy. Power acknowledged that the little fellow had 
 shown he was no telltale. But Shaw, in his depreci- 
 ating tone, said only, " It was lucky I warned him well 
 beforehand of the danger of blabbing." 
 
 Frank thought this the unkindest cut of all. But his 
 own conscience was satisfied, and that was enough. 
 The steadiness with which he stood this trial made them 
 all respect him, and the good-humour which he showed 
 when they laughed at or plagued him, conquered all but 
 Shaw. Power said he would let him alone now he 
 found that he was a noun substantive, and could stand 
 by himself. And Shaw, the day he left Bellombre, was 
 heard to observe that Frank was sharp enough; so that
 
 FRANK. 451 
 
 really it began, he said, to be diamond cut diamond be- 
 tween them. 
 
 " How glad you must be that I am going away !" said 
 Shaw, as he stepped into the carriage after his father. 
 
 " Glad ! no," said Frank ; " you never did me any 
 harm ; you have done me a great deal of good you 
 have cured me of minding your wit." 
 
 The more Granville perceived that his little protege 
 could do without his protection, the more his attention 
 was fixed upon him ; and several circumstances soon 
 contributed to raise Frank still higher in his esteem. 
 
 The day on which Mr. Shaw and his son left Bel- 
 lombre, there came in their place a naval officer, a 7 well- 
 informed gentleman, who had seen many different parts 
 of the world ; in China, in India, in Russia, and in the 
 north seas. He related, in an entertaining manner, what 
 he had seen or heard ; and Frank, eager for knowledge, 
 listened to him with the greatest attention. 
 
 Parts of various books of voyages and travels, which 
 Frank had read, supplied him with such general infor- 
 mation on these subjects, that he was able to compre- 
 hend and take a lively interest in all that he now heard. 
 
 The conversation turned on an expedition to the North 
 Pole, which was at this time setting out. 
 
 Our captain spoke of the former voyage of Commo- 
 dore Phipps, of the wonderful exertions which he and 
 his men had made to save themselves from being de- 
 stroyed by the drifting masses of ice : Of the dock which 
 he scooped out in the solid rock for his vessels : Of the 
 manner in which, with their poles, they pushed away 
 the masses of ice : Of the joy with which they effected 
 their deliverance, and saw land again from the mast- 
 head : Of the pleasure with which, when they felt them- 
 selves out of danger, they looked upon the various forms 
 of the broken ice that they had sailed through : In par- 
 ticular one magnificent arch, through which a sloop 
 might have sailed without lowering her mast. 
 
 Frank longed to hear him speak of the people who 
 first discovered Spitzbergen of the three ships and the 
 sailors who were frozen up, and who were found long 
 afterward by the wandering Laplanders ; but our cap- 
 tain did not go back to those old times, and as he was 
 a stranger, Frank did not venture to ask him any ques- 
 tions. He listened in silence. He had now learned 
 discretion enough never to attempt to display his little
 
 452 FRANK ' 
 
 knowledge. His pleasure was now in adding to hii 
 stock. But the captain, whose eye was caught by 
 Frank's intelligent countenance, and who observed the 
 extreme attention with which he continued to listen, 
 sometimes turned to him, and told him such anecdotes 
 as he thought suited to his age. In particular, he men- 
 tioned, that in the Expedition which was now fitting 
 out for the North Pole, " some kind-hearted person, a 
 stranger to Captain Parry, sent to offer him fifty pounds, 
 for the purchase of any thing which might amuse the 
 crews of his ship during the ensuing winter. A magic 
 lantern was the thing chosen, whose scenes might en- 
 tertain them with views of different countries, or remind 
 them of their own, and thus furnish them with a sort of 
 home, while they were lingering on the shores of the 
 Polar sea." 
 
 Frank very much liked this idea ; and the company 
 began to entertain themselves with considering what 
 pictures they would have put on the different slides of 
 the magic lantern. One said, London Bridge, with car- 
 riages and passengers. Another, the London cries. 
 Another, a rowing-match on the Thames. Great varie- 
 ty was suggested ; at last, Frank was called upon by 
 the officer to furnish a slide. He recollected a scene 
 which he thought would divert the sailors ; but he was 
 not sure whether it would do, whether it would be pos- 
 sible to represent it. 
 
 " Tell it to us, my little fellow, and we will try and 
 help you out." 
 
 " You were speaking of Phipps's voyage, sir; do you 
 remember the captain, who was too fat to run, but who 
 was such a coward that he did one day run away fast 
 enough, and too fast from the bears ; he dropped his 
 gun, and stumbled against the nest of a goose, who was 
 sitting on her eggs ; then was attacked by the enraged 
 gander, who flew about his head, and pecked at his 
 nose ; and was at last saved from gander and bears, by 
 his sailors firing for him just in time V 
 
 Some of the company laughed at this story, and ap- 
 plauded Frank's proposal ; others thought it impractica- 
 ble ; others wished to see exactly what was said about 
 it in the book ; and Power was pretty sure it could not 
 be true, and that Frank had either mistaken about the 
 goose, or that he had embroidered, a cant expression, 
 meaning that he had exaggerated. Frank did not know
 
 FRANK. 453 
 
 what was meant by his embroidering a goose ; which ig- 
 norance of his exposed him to much derision from Tom, 
 who laughed as much as he dared to laugh in company, 
 with both hands stopping his mouth, and slipping down 
 to hide his head under the table. Lewis went to look 
 for Phipps's voyage in the library ; and Granville yes, 
 Granville himself rose to show him where it was. But 
 before Granville, to whom Lewis resigned the book, 
 could find the passage in the quarto volume, Miss Gran- 
 ville, with Mary's assistance, found, in a little book of 
 hers, " Winter Evenings, or Tales of Travellers," 3d vol- 
 ume, in the " Adventures in the Arctic Ocean," the anec- 
 tode to which Frank alluded ; and it was read aloud by 
 Cressingham. 
 
 " The captain endeavoured to follow his men, but, 
 unfortunately, he was very fat, and consequently, run- 
 ning did not suit him, and he was soon quite out of 
 breath. He saw that the bear, which came in the wa- 
 ter, had just reached the shore, and now he thought of 
 nothing but of becoming the prey of this formidable an- 
 imal. His hair stood on end. He looked behind him, 
 and saw the bear but a little way off, advancing with his 
 nose in the air, as if he was snuffing the scent." 
 
 " But not a word about the goose or her nest," said 
 Power. 
 
 " Read on," said Granville. 
 
 " Just at this moment the captain unfortunately drop- 
 ped his gun ; and stooping to pick it up again, he stum- 
 bled against the jiest of a goose, who was sitting on her 
 eggs, and down he fell flat. He had hardly time to get 
 up again, before the enraged gander flew to the assist- 
 ance of the half-smothered goose ; he darted at the eyes 
 of the officer, but luckily missed his aim, and only in- 
 jured the poor man's nose. The gander prepared for a 
 second attack, which might have had worse consequen- 
 ces, if the sailors, seeing their commander so beset, had 
 not come to his relief." 
 
 Lady Chepstow observed that Frank had remembered 
 and stated the facts quite accurately. This time Gran- 
 ville did not listen with his former coldness to his moth- 
 er's approbation, but smiled when she added, in a whis- 
 per, " I always told you, Horace, that this protege of 
 yours would do you credit." 
 
 Frank's mother observed with pleasure, that upon this 
 occasion he said no more than just the thing he ought,
 
 454 FRANK. 
 
 and that he was not thinking of attracting notice, but 
 quite intent upon acquiring fresh knowledge from the 
 naval officer, who was now so kind as to talk to him. 
 
 Tom, from the beginning of this conversation, had be- 
 come uneasy in his chair, and in the progress of it had 
 fidgeted continually, and fiddled with every thing within 
 his reach, and made such teasing noises with every thing 
 he touched, that Lady Chepstow looked as if she could 
 not endure it any longer. He now relieved her lady- 
 ship by darting out of the room. He fled, seized with a 
 panic fear that his turn would come next, that the officer 
 might put to him some posing question, or perhaps might 
 ask him for a slide in the lantern. His fears were ground- 
 less ; that gentleman never once thought of him ; but 
 Tom fled as if he had been pursued by the bears, nor 
 stopped till he found himself safe in Spellman's room. 
 
 Power next withdrew himself; and, having stretched 
 and yawned long and loud, pronounced, that in his humble 
 opinion, though that navy fellow was a relation of Lord 
 Chepstow's, he talked too much, and for his part, he de- 
 clared he could not pretend to follow him. Indeed, it 
 would have been a vain effort, for he was so ignorant, 
 that if report say true, he was found at a map searching 
 for Spitzbergen somewhere near Spithead, and after- 
 ward at Bergen-op-zoom. When Lewis endeavoured to 
 set him right without exposing his almost incredible ig- 
 norance, he, with a foolish taunt, said he was obliged to 
 him, he did not set up for understanding geography and 
 such things as well as surveyors, and engineers, and pro- 
 fessional people must. If he had been the son of a sur- 
 veyor or an engineer, he should, he supposed, know 
 better ; but his father would buy for him a fine set of 
 maps the first opportunity, and then he would sit down 
 some morning and take to geography : that is to say, as 
 much as was necessary for a gentleman ; but he never 
 intended to make a pedant of himself. It was quite 
 pedantic, as he voted, to be too accurate about the names 
 of places, and so forth. There were some things of 
 which he owned he was ignorant, and he thanked 
 Heaven for it. 
 
 " What," said Lewis, " do you thank Heaven for your 
 ignorance ?" 
 
 " And if I do, sir," said Power, fiercely, " what have 
 you to say to that, pray ?"
 
 ffcANK. 455 
 
 'Nothing," answered Lewis, " but that you have eer- 
 tainly a great deal to thank Heaven for." 
 
 "Very fair!" said Granville. 
 
 Mr. Power's ignorance of every thing but Latin had 
 often been complained of by his father, Who attributed 
 it to some fault in his school ; but perhaps it had been 
 also the fault of his home, where he had acquired the 
 notion that wealth would supply all deficiencies, and 
 that a gentleman of fortune must command respect, and 
 can purchase all the information he needs. 
 
 Frank was glad to hear the strong tone in which 
 Granville pronounced the words " Very fair !" and he 
 was still more glad when Granville repeated, 
 
 " Very good, Lewis." 
 
 Granville's frozen manner towards Frank was thaw- 
 ing, but it had not quite got rid of its stiffness. Spell- 
 man watched him, saw this change, and returned to his 
 former appearance of good-nature ; but Frank kept at a 
 distance from him, and retired as much as he could from 
 his civilities. 
 
 He saw Tom and Spellman conferring together one 
 day, and by what they said to each other, they seemed 
 desirous to attract his attention. 
 
 "I told you," said Spellman, "that you were very 
 rude that first night, and you ought to say that you were 
 very sorry, as I am sure you are." 
 
 No answer from Tom. 
 
 " Tom, how can you expect that any one will do you 
 a favour, if you are not commonly civil ?" pursued Spell- 
 man. " Remember, I tell you, you have missed your 
 best time for asking." 
 
 " My mother should have asked, when I desired her," 
 was all Tom's reply. 
 
 " But he is so good-natured," said Spellman, " you 
 had better ask him now, or let me ask him, do ; or get 
 his friend, Lewis, to ask him. I am sure he would do 
 it. But if you put it off, Tom, I give you up." 
 
 " I'll ask when I please," said Tom, " or not at all." 
 
 Frank, perceiving that he was the person from whom 
 something was to be asked, was tempted to inquire 
 what it was ; but he did not like Spellman's mean, in- 
 direct way of proceeding, and he determined first to 
 consult Lewis, who advised him to say nothing, but to 
 let Tom take his own way, and either plainly make his 
 request, whatever it might be, or let it alone.
 
 456 PRANK. 
 
 THERE was at Bellombre a walk, which they called the 
 Midsummer walk ; it was shaded with lime-trees, which 
 arched overhead, so as to be impenetrable to the rays 
 of the sun ; it was straight, and very long : at one end 
 of it was a pleasant summer-house, at the other it 
 opened to a smooth shaven lawn, which had been in 
 former times a bowling-green, and which was used by 
 the young people at this day for ninepins and other 
 sports. 
 
 One hot day, Frank, Power, Tom, Spellman, with 
 some others, were playing at ninepins there, when 
 Frank saw his mother pass, with a book in her hand, 
 towards the Midsummer- walk. He had a great mind to 
 follow her, but it was his turn to play next. He was 
 called upon, and he went on with his game, saying to 
 himself, that as soon as this game was finished, he would 
 follow his mother, and cool himself in the shade, for 
 he had heated himself running to set up the ninepins 
 for everybody; but, before this game was ended, a ser- 
 vant came running to them out. of breath. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! there is a mad dog in the grounds, my 
 lady desires you will run in directly." Instantly they 
 all ran towards the garden-door, which was opposite to 
 them, and which was the nearest place of safety ; the 
 dog appeared, pursued by men with pitchforks ; the 
 boys reached the garden-door, and were safe, all but 
 Frank, who, recollecting his mother, instead of follow- 
 ing his companions, ran down the Midsummer-walk to 
 call her. He saw her at a distance ; he ran as fast as 
 possible ; he called as loud as ever he could call, but she 
 did not hear him ; her back was towards him. As he 
 ran, he heard the shouts of the men coming nearer and 
 nearer. Once he looked back he saw the dog making 
 straight for the walk on which he was running. All 
 power went out of his knees ; but remembering his 
 mother, he struggled on ; he could hardly drag his heavy 
 legs after him, and though he ran fast, he felt as if he 
 could not get on. 
 
 " Mother, mother oh, mother !" he called loud and 
 louder, but in vain ; his voice was gone, but he heard 
 the men calling, " a mad dog a mad dog out of the 
 way out of the way !" Frank made a last effort, his 
 mother heard, and turned; he reached, seized, drag-
 
 FRANK. 457 
 
 . 
 
 ged her on to the summer-house, flung back the door, 
 and, quite exhausted, fell senseless on the ground. 
 
 When he came to himself, he did not know wh re he 
 was or what had happened. His head was lying on 
 his mother's shoulder, and he heard her tender voice, 
 saying, " He is coming to himself." 
 
 "What is the matter!" Frank asked, as he raised 
 himself up, and looked round. He saw that he was in 
 the hall at Bellombre, and that his mother and Mr. Gran- 
 ville were there. 
 
 " You feel better now, my dear Frank," said his 
 mother. 
 
 " Very well, thank you, mamma ; only some odd 
 prickly feeling." 
 
 He saw that Granville had a glass of water in his 
 hand, and he felt drops of water on his face. 
 
 " How comes this ?" said he. 
 
 " You fainted, my dear," said his mother. 
 
 " Did I," said Frank, " how came that 1" 
 
 " You ran too fast, my dear, for me. Are you better 
 now ? 
 
 " I am quite well, mamma," repeated Frank, fixing 
 his eyes on Granville. " But how very kind you look !" 
 
 " Drink what your mother is giving you, my dear 
 boy," said Granville. 
 
 " Dear boy /" repeated Frank to himself, putting away 
 the glass of hartshorn and water, he said, " Thank you, 
 mamma, why should I drink that horrible stuff; I do 
 not want it. I am really quite well now. What be- 
 came of the dog 1 did he bite anybody ?" 
 
 " No ; everybody is safe, you saved your mother, the 
 dog is shot," said Granville, " and you are a noble little 
 fellow." 
 
 " Now go to your own room and rest yourself," said 
 his mother. 
 
 Frank went, and Granville followed him. 
 
 In a few minutes Spellman came to inquire how 
 Frank did, but the door was not opened to him ; when 
 Lewis came, Granville admitted him and retired, saying, 
 
 " He is an older friend, I acknowledge, perhaps a 
 better ; but, Frank," added he, as he left the room, " if 
 ever again you are surprised at my being kind to you, 
 it shall be your fault, not mine." 
 
 Granville, in spite of his outward cold manner, had a 
 warm heart, and Frank had quite won it, quite conquer 
 U 39
 
 45$ FRANK. 
 
 ed him, by the proof of affection he had given to his 
 mother, not in words but deeds. He was particularly 
 pleased by Frank's perfect simplicity. 
 
 " It was plain he did not think he had done any thing 
 extraordinary ; he did not want to have it talked of," 
 said Granville, in giving an account of what had passed 
 to Cressingham. " No fal-lal sentimental ftonsense 
 about it. The mother did not say a word too much, 
 and the boy thought nothing of it. I like her, and I 
 love Frank a noble little fellow. .1 am glad I am to 
 have him at school. Any one might be proud of him." 
 This was a vast deal for Granville to say, and to say 
 at once. Cressingham, turning to Spellman, who was 
 standing listening, said, " You look wonderfully sur* 
 prised, Mr. Spellman ; remember, I told you that I knew 
 Granville better than you did. I was sure that this 
 boy's honest, independent character, would please him 
 at last." 
 
 " Oh, certainly; who ever doubted it 1 ?" said Spellman. 
 But, thought he, you do not know yet how matters will 
 end. 
 
 Meantime Frank and Lewis were, on their part, talk- 
 ing to each other of what had happened, and when Frank 
 described to his friend the strange feeling of difficulty 
 he had in running, and said his limbs felt heavy, and 
 that it was all like a dream, this reminded Lewis of 
 some lines in Virgil, of which he repeated the transla- 
 tion: 
 
 " And, as whefi heavy sleep has clqs'd the sight, 
 The sickly fancy labours in the night ; 
 We seem to run, and, destitute of force, 
 Our sinking limbs forsake us In the course ; 
 In vain we heave for breath, in vain we cry, 
 The nerves unbrac'd their usual strength deny, ' 
 And on the tongue the falt'ring accents die/' 
 
 Frank was surprised to find that Virgil had thought 
 and felt as he did, so many hundred years ago ; and 
 then, descending suddenly from this grand reflection, 
 was very curious to know what had happened to the 
 mad dog, and where Lewis was standing when he first 
 heard the cry. 
 
 And when all this had been explained, Lewis left 
 Frank alone to rest himself, but he was not long allowed 
 to remain in peace. Spellman came softly into the 
 room, followed by Tom, whom he exhorted not to make
 
 FRANK. 459 
 
 any noise. Frank told them that he was not asleep, 
 and that they might talk as loud as they pleased. They 
 both said they came to see how he did, and were very 
 sorry he had been ill ; but they looked as if that was 
 not exactly the thing they came to say, and as if some- 
 thing more important was to follow. While Spellman 
 was considering how he should preface it with some 
 nice bit of flattery, Tom blurted out these words : " Af- 
 ter all, if you have a mind to go to school with that 
 Lewis, you may, for any thing I care." 
 
 " What do you mean 1 !" cried Frank, starting up. 
 
 " He means," said Spellman, " that if we could man- 
 age so as to please all parties, it would be a very good 
 thing in this world; but that cannot be, so, perhaps, it 
 will not do, because I could not speak to Granville so 
 well, and I am afraid you will be afraid to speak." 
 
 " Oh," interrupted Frank, " do tell me plainly ; I am 
 not afraid to speak to anybody." 
 
 " If that's the case, then you are the properest person 
 to speak about it to everybody, and don't mention my 
 name." 
 
 " 1 do not want to mention your name, indeed," said 
 Frank ; " but do tell me plainly what you mean." 
 
 " Why, then, the short and the long of it is," said 
 Tom, " that if you have a mind to stand in my shoes, 
 you may." 
 
 " 1 have no mind to stand in your shoes," said Frank. 
 
 " But you have a mind to go to school with Lewis, 
 have not you?" said Spellman. 
 
 " You know I have," said Frank, impatiently; " I told 
 you so ; why should you ask me again 1" 
 
 " Because, if you are quite sure of that, I can show 
 you how it can be done," said Spellman. 
 
 " Can you? Oh, show me !" cried Frank. 
 
 Spellman said that he had found out that it had been 
 just decided that Tom was going to the same school 
 with Lewis; that it was his place that Frank might 
 have filled ; but that, though Tom's uncle had settled 
 this, it could be easily changed, as Tom's mother would 
 do any thing to please her son ; and besides, now that 
 she had been at Bellombre and had seen Mr. Granville, 
 she would like particularly that Tom should go to Mr. 
 Granville's school. In short, it could be done if Frank 
 pleased. 
 
 Jf Frank pleased ! Frank was overjoyed. He could 
 U2
 
 460 PRANK. 
 
 hardly stay to hear how it was to be done, he was in 
 such a hurry to run three different ways, to his father, 
 mother, Lewis, to tell the delightful news. Spellman 
 held him to express fears that his father and mother 
 would be afraid to offend Mr. Granville ; and again beg- 
 ged that his own name might not be mentioned. " Can- 
 not you say that it came into your own head ? Stay 
 one minute, and we can settle how to manage it prop- 
 erly." 
 
 Frank said the properest way was to go straight to 
 his father and mother, and he would say nothing but 
 the plain truth; he would have no underhand doings ; 
 he did not know what Spellman was about, but he 
 would have nothing to do with it if he might not do it 
 openly. 
 
 Spellman let him go, and put the letter which Mrs. 
 
 J had written into his hands, with which Frank ran 
 
 off directly to his mother. 
 
 As he ran full speed along the gallery, he met Lewis 
 and Granville, for the first time, walking together. 
 
 " How now!" said Granville; " I thought you were 
 resting yourself, Frank." 
 
 " I want no rest," said Frank ; " I can have none till 
 I have settled this. Oh, come with me, both of you, I 
 want you both, my dear friends. May I call you friend?" 
 said he, looking up at Granville. 
 
 " You may," said Granville, "now and for life." 
 
 " But perhaps I may offend you, and I should be sorry 
 to offend you again," said Frank, pausing. 
 
 Granville coloured, but, struggling with himself, said, 
 " I shall not be offended without cause again." 
 
 '.' Then come with me," said Frank, " this moment to 
 my father and mother, and you shall hear all I have to 
 say." 
 
 They accompanied him, curious to know what it was 
 that he had to say. In Frank's straightforward way 
 the case was stated in a few words ; and to the honour 
 of Granville be it recorded, that he was not offended : 
 on the contrary, the courageous truth which Frank 
 showed, fixed his esteem, and roused the best parts of 
 his own character; he stood in silence while the expla- 
 nations were making, and till the business was com- 
 pletely settled ; then holding out his hand to Frank in 
 a friendly, not a protecting manner, he said, " Frank, I 
 am sorry not to have you at school ; but promise me,
 
 FRANK. 461 
 
 both of you," said he, looking at Lewis, " that you will 
 come to Bellombre in the holydays, and you will always 
 find in me a friend." 
 
 Frank jumped up, threw his arms round his neck, and 
 thanked him with all his might. 
 
 Mrs. J 's letter to the master of the school was much 
 
 too full of compliments, apologies, and parentheses for 
 Frank to comprehend ; he gave it up, saying it was his 
 mother's business to make it out ; and while she was 
 doing so, he ran in search of Mary, made his way into 
 a part of the house which he had never before entered, 
 even to the sacred apartment of the governess, where, 
 full in the midst he stood, and seizing upon Mary, carried 
 her off, begging Mademoiselle de Cambrai's pardon, and 
 declaring that he had something of the greatest impor- 
 tance to tell her. 
 
 " Now guess," said he, when he had her in the pas- 
 sage, " guess whether it is bad or good." 
 
 " Good, to be sure," said Mary, " you need not pretend 
 to look grave. What is it, something about the engi- 
 neer?" 
 
 " Better," said Frank. 
 
 " Better, what can that be 1" cried Mary. 
 
 "I cannot stay for you to guess any more," said 
 Frank ; " I am to go with Lewis." 
 
 Mary could hardly believe it ; her joy was as great as 
 Frank's. He sent her down to his mother's room, where 
 he told her she would be made to understand how it was 
 all brought about ; and in the fullness and benevolence 
 of his own joy, taking every creature in, of every kind, 
 lie went in search of Spellman, to tell him that the whole 
 business was settled, and that Granville was not offend- 
 ed. This last part of the intelligence Spellman could 
 hardly believe, nor did it seem to give him complete 
 satisfaction, even when at Tast he was convinced of it 
 by seeing and speaking to Granville himself; it was in 
 vain for Frank to attempt to understand Spellman, he 
 
 gave that up along with Mrs. J 's letter. A straight 
 
 and a crooked mind can never agree. 
 
 " What is it you are dissatisfied with still 1" said 
 Frank. " Now you see that Granville is not displeased 
 with you, or with me, or with anybody, and that Tom is 
 to go to the school you wished, and with Granville is 
 not this all you want 1 I am sure it is all I want." 
 
 Spellman said, " Oh ! yes, he was perfectly satisfied," 
 39*
 
 462 FRANK. 
 
 But, in fact, he was far from being satisfied; he had 
 expected that Granville would have been very angry 
 with Frank, and he had hoped to have turned this anger 
 to his own purposes. Tom's going to the same school 
 with Granville would be nothing gained, unless he had 
 the honour of being fag to Granville, and under his pro- 
 tection. This was the point at which Spellman was 
 aiming for his cousin, and of which Mrs. J was ambi- 
 tious. Mr. Granville was known to be very generous to 
 his hangers-on ; he always used to invite little Drake to 
 Bellombre in the holydays ; he would certainly, it was 
 
 supposed do as much for Tom. And Mrs. J fancied 
 
 that this must in time lead to an intimacy between her- 
 self and Lady Chepstow ; and besides the Chepstow fam- 
 ily would, she was confident, provide in future for Tom, 
 by their powerful patronage, if once they should take him 
 under their protection. One thing, however, appeared 
 quite clear, that Lady Chepstow's dislike to Tom's 
 vulgar manners had not diminished since she had seen 
 more of him ; his habits of idleness, and the impossibil- 
 ity of amusing him long with any thing : in short, all 
 the faults of a spoiled child, and of an ill-bred school- 
 boy combined, had increased her aversion.' Yet still, 
 from day to day, he was at Bellombre, " upon sufferance, 
 for poor Spellman's sake," as her ladyship said. And 
 Spellman was meanly satisfied to see his cousin in this 
 manner just endured. He had done imprudently to bring 
 him into any degree of comparison with Frank ; he felt 
 it too late. Notwithstanding this mistake, however, and 
 the unexpected turn which things had last taken, Spell- 
 man trusted much to his powers of flattery, and to that 
 habitual influence which, mixed, as he was content that 
 it should be, with contempt, he knew he possessed over 
 Granville's mind. Granville had penetration enough to 
 see now plainly what had been the cause of Spellman's 
 great anxiety to bring and keep this boy at Bellombre, 
 yet there was something gratifying to pride in the pains 
 which had been taken to gain this object. It is now 
 settled, said Granville to himself, that this cousin Tom 
 of Spellman's is to go to the same school with me ; and 
 as there is a place in the carriage between me and Cres- 
 singham, why should not I gratify poor Spellman, and 
 take him with me T If he does not do me credit at school 
 afterward, I am not bound to take any more notice of 
 him, or ever to ask him again to Bellombre. But I can-
 
 FRANK. 463 
 
 not refuse poor Spellman to take his cousin, though 
 Tom is such a vulgar boy. 
 
 Spellman saw the waverings of his young patron's 
 mind, and had now good hopes of gaining his point. 
 Never in his life did he take more pains to study Gran- 
 ville's humour, or to make himself agreeable to all par- 
 ties. 
 
 In order to obtain Frank's good word for his cousin, 
 he tutored Tom to make him civil, but he tutored in 
 vain ; he worshipped Frank, but he worshipped in vain. 
 
 THE day for the departure of Frank's father and mother 
 from Bellombre had now arrived. Everybody in the 
 house was sorry that they were going ; everybody except 
 Spellman and Tom. Tom did not trouble himself even 
 to pretend to be sorry, but Spellman pulled down the 
 corners of his mouth, and endeavoured to look sad. 
 Superfluous hypocrisy ! for Frank did not see or care 
 how he looked. Spellman followed him about the room, 
 and at last, finding a moment when nobody could hear 
 him, said he had one great favour to beg of Frank. 
 
 "What favour can you have to beg of me 1" said 
 Frank. 
 
 " I will tell you," said Spellman. 
 
 " Quick then, for I am in a hurry." 
 
 " Directly," said Spellman ; but he never could tell 
 any thing, much less ask a favour directly ; so he went 
 back several steps. " You know, Frank," said he, " at 
 least I know, if your modesty does not allow you to 
 believe it, that you are such a favourite now with 
 Mr. Granville, that he would not refuse any thing you 
 ask. Now, you would do me the greatest favour in the 
 world, which I should never forget to my dying day, 
 and I'd do as much for you, if you would ask him one 
 thing." 
 
 "What?" said Frank. 
 
 " You know he would rather have you for his fag a 
 thousand times than poor Tom." 
 
 " I know," said Frank. 
 
 " But, as he cannot have you, will you ask him now 
 to take Tom in his carriage to school with him, properly 
 under his protection t" 
 
 No: Frank said he could not ask any such thing ; that
 
 464 FRANK. 
 
 Mr. Granville must judge for himself, and do as he 
 pleased. 
 
 " Then you are not the good-natured boy I took you 
 for," said Spellman. 
 
 Perhaps I am not the weak boy you took me for, 
 thought Frank. 
 
 " Then you will see I shall get it done without your 
 assistance," said Spellman. 
 
 " I have nothing to do with it," said Frank, " and I 
 shall not meddle with it, one way or the other my 
 friend Lewis advised me not." 
 
 " I am much obliged to your friend Lewis, indeed," 
 said Spellman. " I knew it was not your own thought 
 1 knew you were too good-natured you will do it at 
 last, I am sure." 
 
 " No, I cannot," repeated Frank. 
 
 " But why not 1 Why won't you speak for Tom ? 
 Jf he has ever offended you, I'll make him beg your par- 
 don." 
 
 " He has not offended me ; he has never offended me, 
 and I do not want him to beg my pardon." 
 
 *' But why don't you like him ]" said Spellman. 
 
 " Because I cannot tell you ; he is your cousin, and 
 it would not be civil to tell you ; let me go," said he, 
 turning away, disgusted by Spellman's meanness; " there 
 is our carriage come to the door, and I must go and call 
 Mary." The whole family had collected in the library ; 
 and some were expressing regrets, and others were 
 hoping they should meet again, and some were return- 
 ing books they had borrowed ; some were searching for 
 books that were to be lent to the parting guests ; some 
 were looking in portfolios, and others were sending to 
 the gardener for cuttings and layers, which (well pack- 
 ed) must be put into the carriage. 
 
 "Oh! my yellow rose that Mr. Berkeley promised 
 me," cried Mary, " I am afraid my yellow rose-tree 
 has not come." 
 
 " Never mind," said Frank, " for mamma said that if 
 it was taken up at this time of year, it would not live ; 
 and if it did live it is ten to one that it would never 
 blow." 
 
 " But it blows beautifully in Mr. Berkeley's garden, 
 and why should not it blow in mine ? Pray, mamma, 
 inquire, will you, whether it is come ?" 
 
 Inquiries were made, no rose-tree had pome for Misg
 
 FRANK. 465 
 
 Mary ; but everybody said that if Mr. Berkeley had 
 promised it, it would certainly arrive, for he never for- 
 got any thing he promised. 
 
 Some thought that Mr. Berkeley had not yet returned 
 home; but one of the. servants had seen him coming 
 home late last night. Frank then was eager to run to 
 bid him farewell, but Mary begged that they might wait ; 
 she was sure that Mr. Berkeley would come to take 
 leave of them. 
 
 " And here he is," said Frank, who was at the win- 
 dow ; " he is coming up the shrubbery-walk that leads 
 from the vicarage I saw him, and you will see him 
 just now. Here he is, but without the rose-tree in his 
 hand ; yet he has something else that you will like, I 
 think," added Frank, significantly. 
 
 Tom now jumped up, exclaiming, " I'll bet a crown 
 it's a hare ; our parson brings a hare often ; but," look- 
 ing out of the window, he added, " no such good thing ; 
 it's only a stupid portfolio." 
 
 As Mr. Berkeley drew nearer, Tom saw his face, and 
 said to Spellman, 
 
 " That man is very like somebody, I am sure, I have 
 seen before somewhere." 
 
 " Did not you see him at church last Sunday ?" said 
 Spellman. 
 
 " How could I, when I Avas not' there V said Tom, 
 keeping his eyes fixed upon Mr. Berkeley, who was 
 coming up the steps. The moment he entered the 
 room, Tom hid himself behind a pillar ; thsre he watch- 
 ed an opportunity to get out of the room, but Lady 
 Chepstow was in the way, and he dared not cross her 
 path. Nobody observed him ; all were happily intent 
 upon Mr. Berkeley and the portfolio. In the portfolio 
 was a drawing, which one of his obliging daughters had 
 made, of the print which Frank and Lewis had so much 
 admired, and which Mr. Berkeley begged Frank to ac- 
 cept. Lady Chepstow desired to have the pleasure of 
 seeing the drawing, and everybody gathered round to 
 look at it. Everybody except Tom, who, thinking this 
 a good time for escaping out of the room, made an ef- 
 fort to get to the door, pushing by Mr. Granville so 
 rudely that Spellman caught his arm, saying, 
 
 " How can you push so, Tom * and why cannot you 
 come and look at this beautiful drawing, like Frank and 
 everybody else!" 
 
 U 3
 
 466 FRANK. 
 
 " I don't want to see it," said Tom ; " I want to see 
 the horses at the door." 
 
 Tom struggled and kicked Spellman's shins, who let 
 him go, fearing Lady Chepstow would see this outrage. 
 
 " Tom will be quite another creature, I expect," said 
 Spellman, " when he has been at a good school, and un- 
 der your protection for a year." 
 
 " You expect wonders," said Granville, half smiling. 
 
 Granville left Spellman, and stood behind Frank, 
 looking over his head at the drawing. 
 
 Lady Chepstow made some observations at this in- 
 stant which could not be distinctly heard, because the 
 horses, which were at the door, and which till now had 
 stood perfectly still, were growing very restless. Look- 
 ing out to see what was the matter, her ladyship descri- 
 ed Tom, who had scrambled up upon the coach-box, and 
 was kicking his feet, in despite of the coachman, against 
 the foot-board. 
 
 " Do, somebody yes, Spellman, that's a good crea- 
 ture, do take that boy down, will you," said Lady Chep- 
 stow ; " or," added she, as Spellman left the room, " we 
 shall have that boy's neck broken at Bellorabre, and he 
 had better break it somewhere else." 
 
 Mr. Berkeley now looked out of the window, as oth- 
 ers did, at the taking down of Tom, who called out that 
 he would not come down, and that he would do as he 
 liked. " I recollect that voice," said Mr. Berkeley. 
 
 "It is not, indeed, a voice to be forgotten," said Lady 
 Chepstow. 
 
 Tom, who was now standing near the window, look- 
 ed up, and seeing Mr. Berkeley, who bowed to him, and 
 was beginning to speak to him, he straight turned his 
 back, pretending not to hear. 
 
 Granville called to him, and said, in a stern voice, 
 "Don't you hear Mr. Berkeley speaking to you!" 
 
 Spellman turned Tom's face again to the window, and 
 held him by the shoulders, telling him he must not be 
 so bashful, he must not run away, he must behave civ- 
 illy, and answer when he was spoken to. 
 
 " He can't be speaking to me," said Tom. " Let me 
 go, cousin Spellman, I don't know him." 
 
 "I am not surprised," said Mr. Berkeley, mildly, "that 
 the young gentleman does not recollect me, for the only 
 time that I ever saw him was nearly a year ago ; and 
 then he was stunned by a terrible fall from his horse.
 
 FRANK. 467 
 
 You do not then remember my taking you up from the 
 bank, do you, young gentleman]" saidne, again speak- 
 ing to him from the open window. 
 
 "Not I," said Tom, still straggling to get away; "I 
 don't femefnber any thing about it." 
 
 " Do not detain him," said Mr. Berkeley ; "he seems 
 to be terribly afraid of me, I don't know why ; I was 
 merely going to ask whether his horse had recovered, 
 from his sprain." 
 
 " I don't know," said Tom, bursting away from Spell- 
 man, and making off toward the stables. 
 
 "It is only bashfulness," said Spellm an, pursuing him* 
 
 " Brutal bashfulness !" said Lady Chepstow. 
 
 " Depend upon it, this is not pure bashfulness," said 
 Granville. 
 
 " Frank, what were you going to say ? you look very 
 eager, and yet very doubtful," said Cressingham. 
 
 " Because I believe, but I am not sure, sir," said 
 Frank, turning to Mr. Berkeley, " that the horse of 
 which you were speaking is mine. Was it pretty 1 was 
 it black ? Was its name Felix ?" 
 
 " Whether it was pretty, I can't say," replied Mr* 
 Berkeley. " It was black, I recollect, but I cannot tell 
 whether its name was Felix ; its shoulder was sadly 
 sprained." 
 
 " Sprained its shoulder ! Oh, then it was poor Felix," 
 eried Frank and Mary. 
 
 " Thank you for recollecting and asking for him, sir," 
 said Frank j " he is quite well. Did you see him fall) 
 sir f ' 
 
 " I did," said Mr. Berkeley. 
 
 " How extraordinary, mamma, that Mr. Berkeley 
 should see it," said Mary. 
 
 " Not very extraordinary," said Mr. Berkeley. ft I 
 happened to be at the door of a cottage, where I had 
 been visiting one of my poor parishioners in a remote 
 place." 
 
 " In a lane near a pool of water, with flat stepping- 
 stones, was it not V said Frank. 
 
 " Just so," said Mr. Berkeley. 
 
 " Now I know the reason, papa, why Felix was so 
 frightened at the sight of those stones the day we led 
 him home ; but, sir," continued Frank, returning to Mr. 
 Berkeley, " will you tell me, for I never heard exactly 
 how it was."
 
 468 FBAHK. 
 
 " I was at the cottage of a poor woman, who lives in 
 a lane near the common, and I saw this young gentle- 
 man and his servant galloping across the common." 
 
 " Galloping !" repeated Frank with astonishment, look- 
 ing at Mary, and his father, and mother, by turns. 
 
 " Do not interrupt, my dear," said his mother. 
 
 " He was certainly galloping when I saw him," con- 
 tinued Mr. Berkeley, " and as violently as he could go. 
 He, and the man with him, seemed to be running races ; 
 he was foremost, and leaped his horse through a gap in 
 the hedge into the lane ; the horse came on the step- 
 ping-stones, slipped, and fell, and threw his rider on the 
 opposite bank ; the horse sprained his shoolder terribly ; 
 providentially the young gentleman was unhurt. I took 
 him up, and gave him what assistance I could, but he 
 says he does not recollect me." 
 
 Frank and Mary looked at one another again, and 
 stood silent, quite shocked by this discovery of Tom's 
 falsehood. 
 
 " But, papa, he certainly said he was trotting the 
 horse, and trotting very gently, did not he 1" said Frank, 
 at last breaking silence. 
 
 " Yes, and his mother's note said so, and the groom 
 said so, if I recollect," said Mary ; " and, you know, he 
 promised upon his word that he would go gently." 
 
 " I believe we had better say no more about it," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " But I must beg you will say more, and make me un- 
 derstand all this." said Granville. " Before I have any 
 thing to do with this boy, I must know distinctly what 
 he is." 
 
 " Do not you see what he is ? is not his manner 
 enough 1" said Lady Chepstow. 
 
 . " No, mother, I would not condemn a boy, or give 
 him up merely for his manner. There is a great differ- 
 ence, I hope, between bad manners and bad principles." 
 
 Frank's father strongly agreed in this, and thinking 
 that the whole truth ought to be known to Mr. Gran- 
 ville, he related the circumstances. 
 
 " What ! did he break his promise, and tell a lie I I 
 will have nothing to do with him," said Granville. 
 
 " That is right send him home directly, pray, Hor- 
 ace," said Lady Chepstow, " before we part with our 
 friends, else I shall have him, when we are alone, com-
 
 PRANK. 469 
 
 praying to me, and crying, no doubt. 
 Send him off this minute, Horace." 
 
 Granville left the room, and went to obey his mother's 
 orders. 
 
 He found Tom and Spellman at the stable-door, 
 Spellman still arguing with him, and he struggling and 
 kicking against the door, and crying that he would go 
 home to his mother. 
 
 " Yes, Spellman, send him home this minute," said 
 Granville " it must be so." 
 
 Spellman stood astonished, while Granville ordered 
 a servant to bring out Master Tom's horse, and to call 
 his groom to go with him directly. 
 
 Tom stood still, and looked much alarmed. 
 
 " Surely, my dear Horace, you would not send my 
 cousin off in this way !" Spellman began, as he led 
 Granville out of the hearing of the servants. 
 
 " I am very sorry for you, my dear Spellman," said 
 Granville, " but it must be so. You shall hear the facts, 
 and judge." 
 
 Spellman heard the whole, but endeavoured to ex- 
 cuse Tom, which displeased Granville exceedingly. 
 
 " You cannot excuse such falsehood, Spellman, I 
 hope ?" 
 
 " He is my cousin, consider," said Spellman, " and so 
 young, and so spoiled as he has been." 
 
 " I am sorry for it, but that is not my fault." 
 
 " Oh, my dear Horace, for my sake consider my 
 cousin, my own cousin !" said Spellman. 
 
 " If he were forty times your cousin I can have noth- 
 ing to do with him," said Granville, steadily ; " besides, 
 my mother desires that he should go." 
 
 " But if he must go now," said Spellman, " say noth- 
 ing about it, will you * or the poor boy is ruined for 
 ever." 
 
 " I will never say a word about him. I am sorry for 
 you, Spellman," repeated Granville, " but I wonder you 
 could defend such conduct." 
 
 "I! I don't defend it. I think it's horrible. Only I 
 know how he has been spoiled at home, and at that de- 
 testable school; and I am sure that when he is at 
 another school, and if he was under your eye, he would 
 become quite another creature." 
 
 As Granville was silent, Spellman continued in his 
 most supplicating and flattering tone " I know he 
 40
 
 470 FRANK. 
 
 would become so fond of you, he would be so attached 
 to you ; though nobody else could manage him, I know 
 you could do any thing you pleased with him by a word. 
 I know by myself what power you have. I know " 
 
 " Do not flatter me any more, Spellman," said Gran- 
 viile. 
 
 Spellman stopped short, and looked at Granville, as 
 if he was not sure he had heard rightly. 
 
 " 1 flatter ! and flatter you I" 
 
 ** Yes, you flatter me." 
 
 Spellman, protesting he never flattered, took Mr. 
 Grauville's arm, and walking on, began to reurge his 
 suit in favour of his cousin. " If you would say a word 
 to Lady Chepstow, you are all powerful, you would save 
 my cousin from this disgrace." 
 
 "Don't urge farther; I cannot, Spellman." 
 
 Spellman, however, observing what reluctance Gran- 
 ville felt to disoblige him, thought that if he pushed the 
 matter boldly to the utmost, that he should succeed. 
 He withdrew his arm suddenly from Granville's, ex- 
 claiming, in a high tone, that he felt himself ill-used ; 
 that he had feelings as well as Mr. Granville, and pride 
 of his own too : that he could not bear to see his near 
 relation so treated ; disgracefully packed off: he could 
 not justify it to his conscience to stand by and see it 
 done : that, well as he loved Mr. Granville, if Mr. Gran- 
 ville persisted in sending his cousin away, without say- 
 ing a word to save him, he could not longer look upon 
 him as his friend. He confessed this was not his idea 
 of a friend. In short, if his cousin was sent away from 
 Bellombre, he would go along with him, he was deter- 
 mined. 
 
 Granville stood silent, and Spellman, seeing signs of 
 strong emotion in his countenance, fancied he would 
 yield if he pushed the matter to extremity ; so, turning 
 abruptly, and imitating, as well as he could, Granville's 
 own decided tone and manner, he called to one of the 
 servants in the yard, and ordered that his horse should 
 be saddled as well as Mr. Tom's. 
 
 " Spellman, you are in a passion ; I will give you time 
 to cool. You had better not go," said Granville, leaving 
 him. Spellman was not in a passion ; he only pretended 
 to be indignant, to work upon his friend's real feelings. 
 With all his art, as Cressingham told him, he did n^' 
 know that friend well: he knew all the weaknesses,
 
 FRANK. 
 
 but none of the strength of his character. He fancied 
 that Granville could not live without him and flattery. 
 He thought that his quitting Bellombre would produce 
 a great effect, and that he and his cousin would be re- 
 called in a few days. He mounted his horse in a finely 
 acted passion, bowing to Granville as he passed the 
 windows ; observed that he looked astonished, and saw, 
 or thought he saw, that Granville beckoned to him, au- 
 gured well of his weakness from this, galloped on, 
 passed the gate, and never, we hope, was recalled to 
 Bellombre. 
 
 ALL this while the carriage was at the door, the 
 horses, who had been standing still against their will an 
 unconscionable time, now pricked up their ears on hear- 
 ing the step of the carriage let down. But they were 
 yet to wait, while, after everybody else had got into 
 the carriage, Frank was detained on the steps by each 
 individual of the house of Bellombre, to wish him a 
 fresh good-by, and who held him back while they re- 
 peated their desire to see him again whenever his father 
 and mother could bring him. 
 
 " He has promised me, and that is enough," said 
 Granville. " I am sure of him, and I hope he is sure 
 of me." 
 
 " Quite, thank you," said Frank. 
 
 " And, Frank, stay one minute one thing more I will 
 promise you," said Granville, " that the next time you 
 come to Bellombre, you shall not, if I can prevent it, 
 meet any tormentors." 
 
 " Nor any flatterers either, if I can prevent it," said 
 Cressingham. " Pray tell me, Frank," said he, laying 
 his hand on the carriage-door, " if you were forced to 
 choose between them, which would you rather have, 
 the tormentors or the flatterer ?" 
 
 " The tormentors, to be sure," said Frank ; " they did 
 me a great deal of good, and I grew used to their teas 
 ing at last, but the flatterer never did me any good." 
 
 " Right," said Cressingham. 
 
 Granville gave his last approving nod, and they de- 
 parted. N 
 
 The weather was fine, and the drive home was de- 
 lightful, even though it was not a new way. Mary,
 
 472 FRANK. 
 
 especially enjoyed it; for it had seemed to her very 
 long since they had been all together. Now she could 
 hear Frank's thoughts and feelings about every thing 
 and every person they had seen at Bellombre; but 
 chiefly she was interested in hearing that his father and 
 mother were quite satisfied with him, that they thought 
 he had borne all his little trials better than they could 
 have expected, and that he had been improved by them 
 in the strength of mind which would be necessary for 
 him at school. 
 
 Boys, even at Frank's early age, as his father ob- 
 served, begin to lay the foundation of a character for 
 themselves, and Frank had now begun well ; he had 
 raised in the minds of some of those who were to be 
 his future companions in life, good expectations of his 
 temper, truth, and honourable principles, he had won 
 the regard of two new friends, and had increased the 
 esteem and affection of his friend Lewis, to whom he 
 had proved that he was sincerely and steadily attached ; 
 his mother had been particularly pleased by observing 
 that Frank had not betrayed much of that foolish vanity, 
 which she had dreaded as the foible of his mind. Mary 
 was silent, and happy in silence, as long as these re- 
 marks on Frank's conduct and character lasted ; but, 
 from the moment his praises ceased, she began to talk, 
 and the conversation was kept up between the young 
 people with that unceasing flow of spirits, which the 
 prospect of returning home and to their usual happy 
 ways naturally excited. 
 
 The first creature they ran to see was their good Mrs. 
 Catharine. 
 
 After she had kissed Mary, she held out her arms to 
 Frank, 
 
 " What ! and you too ! Do you come back to me," 
 said she, " just such as you went ? I had expected you 
 would have been a fine young gentleman after your 
 visit to Bellombre, and too grand to come to my room 
 to see your old nurse." 
 
 " You expected very wrong then," said Frank, " but 
 I do not believe you are in earnest, else 1 know how I 
 could punish you. Look, here are your spectacles 
 mended for you ; you thought I should forget them, but 
 you see you were mistaken in that, too ; and, to save 
 yourself the trouble of stooping again, you may give 
 me another kiss, for the prettiest tortoise-shell kitten
 
 PRANK. 475 
 
 you ever saw in your life, which you are to have on 
 Monday." 
 
 The expectation of the hew tortoise-shell favourite 
 kept Mrs. Catharine from being quite overpowered by 
 the news that Frank was certainly to go to school on 
 the Monday following. 
 
 Frank's next care was so to arrange their affairs du- 
 ring this last week, that they should be as much with 
 Mary as possible. Lewis and he agreed that they would 
 take only short rides, so that they might always return 
 by the time that she had finished her lessons. They 
 were the more anxious to be kind to her, because she 
 was so careful not to be any trouble or restraint to 
 them ; she even begged that they would do what they 
 liked best about riding, and that they would not return 
 on purpose to walk with her. 
 
 " For," said she, " you know I must soon learn to be 
 quite alone when Frank goes to school, and it's better 
 for me to learn by degrees : this is what I often used 
 to try to think in the long fortnight at Bellombre. It 
 will be much easier at home," added she, " because 
 here I have many pleasant things that I like to do, and 
 I have always mamma to talk to when she has done 
 being busy. So pray ride as much as you please." 
 
 One day of this week was spent with their excellent 
 friend Colonel Birch. He rejoiced to hear that the 
 two young friends were to go to the same school, though 
 he was still inclined to believe that some delay would 
 occur. 
 
 Two evenings were happily spent in revisiting, cer- 
 tainly for the last time this season, old Mrs. Wheeler, 
 and the gardener of the green gale. Frank was proud to 
 feel that his having been laughed at about them had 
 made no impression upon his mind. He left with Mrs. 
 Wheeler a legacy which she much prized, a dog, the 
 son of Colonel Birch's great dog, which the colonel had 
 trained for him, and which was the most diverting as 
 well as the most obedient of dogs, and Mrs. Wheeler 
 had no doubt would prove the most faithful of his kind. 
 " I was just wishing for a dog," said she, " for you must 
 know, sir, our Jowler died last winter." 
 
 "Do you think I did not know that?" said Frank; 
 " that is the very reason I thought of bringing you a 
 young dog, to comfort you for the loss of the old one." 
 
 " Oh, think Of his remembering about my old dog, and 
 40*
 
 474 FRANK. 
 
 my old self," exclaimed Mrs. Wheeler, " after he has 
 been away too, and is going off to school. God bless 
 him, wherever he goes he will never forget his friends." 
 
 This last was heard only by Mary, after Frank had 
 left the house. His farewell visit to the gardener and 
 his son was still more satisfactory ; for Lewis had re- 
 ceived a letter from his father, desiring to have the gar- 
 dener's son sent to him, and requesting that Frank 
 might be the bearer of this good news. There was 
 also a smaller service which Frank did for the gardener, 
 which pleased him particularly. While he was at Bel- 
 lombre, he had heard of many curious practical experi- 
 ments on the means of improving fruit-trees, and espe- 
 cially on the possibility of making our pears and peaches 
 as large, as fine, and as abundant as any which are to 
 be found in foreign countries, Frank thought of his 
 friend the gardener when he had heard these observa- 
 tions, and repeated as much as he could remember of 
 them, lending the gardener the Review* in which the 
 books containing them are mentioned. 
 
 With some of these he was already acquainted ; 
 others were new to him, and they were, as he said, 
 the very things he most wished to see ; he added, 
 that he took it particularly kindly of Frank that he 
 thought of him and his garden in the midst of all his 
 diversions and fine people at Bellombre ; this was what 
 he called having a good memory in every sense of the 
 word ; " and here is a garden, in which you and your 
 friends will always find yourselves as welcome as if it 
 were your own, and Miss Mary the same." 
 
 The gardener inquired when Frank was to be at 
 home again. And when he was told it was to be at 
 Christmas, he picked out for Mary some Christmas-rose 
 and wall-flower, which he told her would make a good 
 figure in their garden at that season, and would be in 
 blow to welcome him. Mary thanked him more for 
 this thought than for all he had ever given her before, of 
 
 " Purple grape, green fig, or apricot." 
 
 She found the days of .this last week passed away 
 terrible quickly, and when it was Saturday she could 
 not believe it ; she thought it was Friday, she had hoped 
 it was Friday, till the appearance of a little new trunk, 
 
 * Edinburgh Review, No,
 
 FRANK. 476 
 
 In which Frank's clothes were to be packed, convinced 
 her of the melancholy certainty. Frank, who felt that 
 it was the part of a man to keep up her spirits and his 
 own, did whatever he could to comfort her; but, even 
 with him, it came to whistling sometimes, and some- 
 times to the wise observation, " It's all for my good, 
 Mary;" and sometimes to the unanswerable assertion, 
 " Christmas will come, you know, Mary." 
 
 Every thing he could think of that he possessed, and 
 that she could like, he set apart for her in their last visit 
 to his garden ; and when he was sorting his goods for 
 packing up, she thanked him, and thought he was very 
 good-natured, and wondered how he could think of so 
 many things for her in all his hurry: but what com- 
 forted her best was the employing her to do something 
 for him ; and he and Mrs. Catharine together found out 
 a variety of jobs that Mary could do better than any- 
 body else. There were handkerchiefs to be marked, 
 and lists to be written of his clothes and his books, for 
 she was a practised and expert hand at writing lists. 
 
 The books which he was allowed to carry with him 
 were few indeed compared with the numbers which he 
 had intended should go at the bottom of the trunk, but 
 which would have filled, as Mrs. Catharine declared, 
 bottom, middle, and top. In the selection which Frank 
 and Mary together made, there were a few very valua- 
 ble books. Among these, the principal were a Bible, 
 which had long been his mother's, and the Homer's 
 Iliad, which his father had won as a prize at school, and 
 which he had given to Frank, expressing a hope that he 
 would some day bring home premium books of his own. 
 Of this Homer, unfortunately, however, the first volume 
 was not to be found ; high and low, above, about, and 
 underneath, it was searched for in vain. One faint 
 hope remained that it might not have been returned by 
 Colonel Birch. Frank's mother, at his earnest request, 
 sent an express messenger to the colonel, late in the 
 evening, with a note from Frank, beseeching him to 
 look over all his books, and if he could find the lost 
 volume, to be sure to send it this night, or very, very 
 early in the morning, as they were to set off at seven. 
 The trunk was at last closed, and locked, and corded, 
 and nothing remained for Mary to do but to look at the 
 letters marked in brass nails on the lid ; and, bright as 
 those nails were, she could scarcely see them through
 
 476 FRANK. 
 
 the tears which dimmed her eyes ; therefore she stoop- 
 ed down, and began to brighten the F, by rubbing it 
 with great care ; but tears falling fast while she rubbed, 
 it may be doubted whether she did not do more harm 
 than good. Kind Mrs. Catharine called her to help to 
 pack the carpet-bag, and Mary sprung up, and ran for 
 the various odd things which were to go in that last and 
 best resource. 
 
 Night came and morning, and early breakfast, at 
 which all who were going and all who were to stay 
 assembled. Mary ate little, but put every thing near 
 Frank and Lewis which it was possible they could eat. 
 She said not a word, but she listened to every word 
 that was said to Frank, especially the last words of 
 advice which his father and mother gave him, and which 
 Mary seemed to think she was also to remember for 
 him. 
 
 No answer yet from Colonel Birch ; but, just as they 
 had given up all hopes of the return of their messenger, 
 the colonel himself appeared. 
 
 " Is it possible," said he, as he entered the room, 
 " that Frank is really going 1 It is well you missed 
 your book, and sent your messenger. I own I had de- 
 pended so much on mamma's keeping him one day 
 longer, that I had not intended coming to take leave of 
 him till to-morrow. I am glad that I am in time to say 
 good-by, and God bless you, my dear boy." 
 
 Frank looked as if he said, " Thank you." 
 
 The colonel excused the want of the words, and con- 
 tinued, 
 
 " Here's your book : I found it for you at past twelve 
 o'clock last night. Now, Frank, I have no advice to 
 give you : you can want none with such a father and 
 mother as Heaven has blessed you with. But, I must 
 tell you, that I expect you will distinguish yourself 
 do you hear, my boy 1" 
 
 " I do ; and I will if I can," said Frank. 
 
 " And you can if you will," said his father. 
 
 " I expect you will distinguish yourself, as your 
 father did before you," continued Colonel Birch, " and 
 as your friend Lewis is doing as fast as he can. 
 
 " Some celebrated man says that Alexander, at the 
 head of the world, never felt so much true pleasure as 
 is felt by a schoolboy at the head of his school. I know 
 nothing about Alexander's feelings, but I remember, as
 
 FRANK. 477 
 
 well as if it were yesterday, the joy your father felt, 
 and I for him, the day he got to the head of our school. 
 So fare you well, my dear little fellow ; follow his ex- 
 ample." 
 
 Frank returned the squeeze of the hand which 
 Colonel Birch gave him, but his heart was so full that 
 lie could not utter a single word. 
 
 " I will never disgrace them !" was the sense of what 
 he thought, as he turned away from his father, and 
 mother, and Mary, and got into the carriage. Mary put 
 the volume of the Iliad in after him. His mother had 
 written in the first page the following lines, which 
 Frank never saw till the next day. 
 
 " Go on, dear boy, 'tis Virtue leads ; 
 He that determines, half succeeds ; 
 
 No obstacles can move. 
 Seek useful knowledge, honest fame, 
 Do honour to an honoured name ; 
 
 And well thy race approve. 
 
 " Oh, think what joy my heart shall know, 
 How bright th' expiring lamp shall glow, 
 
 When quivering o'er the tomb ; 
 If in the evening of my days, 
 I live to hear thy well-earn'd praise, 
 And see thy honours bloom." 
 
 THE END OF FRANK.
 
 NEW-YORK, 184*. 
 
 
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 Life of William Eaton, by Corne- 
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 UCSB LIBRAE* 


 
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