W - f/M 
 
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IDOCATIOH IIBR. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Louise Farrow Barr 
 
Ja_col> Alio "ft 
 
 STORIES 
 
 TOLD TO 
 
 ROLLO'S COUSIN LUCY, WHEN SHE 
 WAS A LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ROLLO BOOKS. 
 
 THE LUCY SERIES 
 
 IS COMPOSED OF SIX VOLUMES, VIZ. : 
 
 Lucy Among the Mountains. 
 Lucy's Conversations. 
 Lucy on the Sea-Shore. 
 
 Lucy at Study. 
 
 Lucy at Play. 
 
 Stories told to Cousin Lucy. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, REVISED BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.. 
 
 No. 13 Astor Place. 
 
Education 
 
 GIFT 
 
NOTICE. 
 
 The simple delineations of the or- 
 dinary incidents and Feelings which 
 characterize childhood, that are con- 
 tained in the Hollo Books, having been 
 found to interest, and, as the author 
 hopes, in some degree to benefit the 
 young readers for whom they were 
 designed, — the plan is herein extended 
 to children of the other sex. The two 
 first volumes of the series are Lucy's 
 Conversations and Lucy's Stories. 
 Lucy was Hollo's cousin; and the au- 
 thor hopes that the history of her life 
 and adventures may be entertaining 
 and useful to the sisters of the boys 
 who have honored the Rollo Books 
 with their approval. 
 
 3r>*7 
 
 Ana. 
 
 st 
 
 library 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An Adventure 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Joanna's Room a . . 22 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Story of the Fog on the Mountains ... 36 
 
 CHAPTER JV. 
 Mary Jay 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Story of the Old Polander 63 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Morocco Book 72 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 The Story of Rocksy 84 
 
O CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 Royal's Story 94 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Morocco Book again— The Stormy Even- 
 ing 116 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A Dialogue — The Quagmire 125 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Sabbath Day — Victor's Meeting . . . . 1o7 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Rachel 145 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Marielle's Little Book — The Story of Alice; 
 or, Self-Possession 154 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 Playing College 108 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Stranger's Story 172 
 
LUCY'S STOEIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE. 
 
 When Rollo's cousin Lucy was a very little 
 girl, she slept in a trundle-bed. She awoke one 
 morning, and heard a bird singing out in the yard. 
 The window was open. The tops of the trees 
 were brightened by the rays of the morning sun. 
 
 "It is morning," said Lucy to herself, "I 
 truly believe." 
 
 Then Lucy tried to think whether she had 
 been asleep or not ; but she could not tell. She 
 thought she had not. She remembered that, the 
 day before, she had been to take a walk with Miss 
 Anne, and that they had got caught out in the 
 rain, and had gone under a bridge for shelter until 
 the shower was over. 
 
 Just then she heard a little noise like the rus- 
 
10 LUCY'S STORIES. 
 
 tling of the leaves of a book. It seemed to come 
 from the window where Miss Anne used to sit. 
 Lucy could not see, because the great bed was in 
 the way. She thought it was Miss Anne reading. 
 
 " Miss Anne," said she. 
 
 " Ah, are you awake, Lucy ? " said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Yes, and I want to get up." 
 
 Miss Anne told Lucy that she might get up, 
 and she did. 
 
 When she was dressed, Miss Anne asked her 
 how she felt after her adventure the day before 
 
 " Adventure ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " our adventure under 
 the bridge." 
 
 " O, pretty well," said Lucy. " Was that an 
 adventure ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne ; " when we are out 
 walking, or are travelling, and anything remark- 
 able happens to us, we call it an adventure. 
 When I was a child, I had an adventure some- 
 what similar to that." 
 
 " What was it ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " I don't know that I shall have time to tell you 
 before the bell will ring. However, I will begin. 
 
 u I was quite a little girl " 
 
 " Not so big as I ? " interrupted Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " just about as big is 
 
AN ADVENTURE. 11 
 
 you. My father was going to take a journey, and 
 he said that I might go too. I don't remember 
 much about the first day, though we had a very 
 pleasant ride. The second day we got to the 
 mountains. I liked riding among the mountains, 
 for I could put my head out of the carriage win- 
 dow, and see the precipices towering away above 
 my head." 
 
 " D : d you travel in a carriage ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Y js," replied Miss Anne, " we were in a 
 carriage. My father and mother sat upon the 
 back seat, and I upon the front. There was a 
 great trunk strapped on behind. I remember, too, 
 that there was a pocket in the inside of the car- 
 riage, under the window, where I kept my picture- 
 book. There was another, bigger book there, too. 
 
 " We rode along that day in a very wild, soli 
 tary place, where there were no houses. There 
 was a foaming river on one side of the road, and 
 rocks and mountains upon the other. At last we 
 turned away from the river, and went along a road 
 where there was nothing but woods, and rocks, 
 snd mountains all around. I remember that 1 
 rode almost all the way kneeling up on the cusk 
 ion of the front seat, looking out. 
 
 " I asked my father if he expected to find any 
 tavern on such a road as that, and he said he did 
 
12 
 
 not : I then asked him what we were going to do 
 for dinner, and he said I should see. 
 
 " By and by, when we were going up a long 
 hill, and had got nearly to the top of it, my father 
 told Jotham that he might begin to look out a 
 place." 
 
 " Who was Jotham ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " Why, Jotham was our man. He was driving 
 us," answered Miss Anne. 
 
 "After about half an hour, Jotham stopped 
 in the middle of the road, and asked my father if 
 that place would do ; and we all looked out of the 
 window to see. 
 
 "We found that there was a brook running across 
 the road, under a small bridge ; it came tumbling 
 down among rocks and precipices on one side, 
 and, after crossing the road, it went down through 
 a kind of a ravine upon the other. A ravine, you 
 must understand, is a kind oi dee^, dark, and nar- 
 row valley. The ravine, and the sides of the hills 
 all around, were covered with forests. Father 
 looked at the place a minute or two, and then he 
 said that Jotham might drive on. until he came to 
 the next stream. 
 
 " I asked him why this place would not do ; 
 and he said that the trees and bushes were too 
 thick So we went on down a long descent, un 
 
AJT ADVENTURE. 13 
 
 til. at last, after we had gone about half a mile, 
 Jotnam stopped again. My father looked out of 
 the window a minute, and then told Jotham that 
 we would get out. So Jotham opened the car- 
 riage door, and we all got out. 
 
 " We found that there was a brook here too, 
 but it was running more smoothly. There was a 
 sort of cart path, which turned off from the road, 
 on the lower side, and led into the woods, along 
 the bank of the brook. My father asked Jotham 
 if he thought he could drive in there ; and Jotham 
 said he could. Then my father asked him if he 
 thought he could find a place to turn, if he drove 
 in ; and Jotham said he could turn anywhere 
 So we all walked in, and Jotham came in after 
 wards, driving the carriage. 
 
 " Presently we came to a beautiful place. It 
 was a small, smooth piece of ground, about as large 
 as this room, with the cart path upon one side, and 
 a turn of the brook sweeping around it upon tha 
 other. The brook was very beautiful. The wa- 
 ter flowed along quietly among round stones, which 
 were covered above the water with soft, green moss. 
 The water was pretty deep in some places ; but it 
 was very clear, so that I could see the sand and 
 pebbles upon the oottom ; and in one place I saw 
 three great fishes ; one was as long as my finger 
 
14 lucy's stories. 
 
 " We all rambled about a few minutes, while 
 Jotham unharnessed the horses, and gave them 
 some oats." 
 
 " O Miss Anne ! " interrupted Lucy, " I don't 
 believe that mis is a true story that you are telling 
 me ; for he could not get any oats for his horses 
 in such a place as that." 
 
 " Yes, he brought the oats with him in a bag, 
 under his seat. He knew that we were going to 
 dine in camp that day, though I didn't ; and so 
 he made preparation. Well, after he had taken 
 care of the horses, he took a hatchet out from 
 under his seat, and began to cut some short poles 
 to make some seats with." 
 
 " I don't see how he could make seats of 
 poles," said Lucy. 
 
 " I have forgotten exactly how he did it ; but 
 somehow or other he laid them along close to- 
 gether, and kept the ends up by some large 
 stones ; and then he put the cushions of the car- 
 riage over them, so as to make a very y;Tod 
 seat. Then he went and got a great, heavy bas- 
 ket from the front of the carriage. It had our 
 dinner in it. 
 
 " So we sat upon our seats and ate our dinner. 
 VV e had bread and butter, and cheese and cakes, 
 and a little apple-pie. There was a jug of milk, 
 
AN ADVENTURE. 15 
 
 too, for us to drink. We staid there as much as 
 an hour ; and I had a fine time, after dinner, play- 
 ing about on the banks of the brook. My moth- 
 er rambled around, gathering flowers; and as for 
 my father, he went and got into the carriage, and 
 took a nap." 
 
 Lucy thought that a carriage without any 
 horses, was a singular place for a nap ; but she 
 did not interrupt Miss Anne to say anything 
 about it. 
 
 "After a time," continued Miss Anne, "my 
 father came to the seats again, where my mother 
 and I were arranging our flowers. He told us 
 that Jotham was putting the horses to the car- 
 riage, and that it was time for us to get ready to 
 go. So we got into the carriage presently, and 
 Jotham drove us out into the main road, and then 
 we trotted along on our way." 
 
 " And was that the adventure which you 
 had ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " That was a kind of an adventure," said Miss 
 Anne, " but not the one I meant. The adven- 
 ture which I meant particularly, is yet to come. 
 It happened that night, about sundown. You 
 understand it was a beautiful summer's day ; ana 
 it was so far to the place where we had to stop, 
 that we did not expect to get there until the even- 
 
16 lucy's stories. 
 
 ing But about half an hour before sundown, we 
 began to hear some thunder. 
 
 " I kneeled up, upon the cushion, and looked 
 out to see if I could see the cloud. There was a 
 great valley spread out before me, and a range of 
 mountains beyond it. Above the mountains the 
 clouds began to be piled up higher and higher. 
 They were white and rounded above, and dark 
 below. Presently I saw a faint flash of lightning. 
 My father asked Jotham how much farther we 
 had got to go, and he said about five miles ; and 
 my father told him to drive as fast as he could. 
 
 " The cloud rose higher and higher, and began 
 to look very black indeed. The mountains undei 
 it, and the great valley, looked dark and gloomy. 
 Presently we went down a hill into a narrow 
 place, with rocks and precipices on each side, 
 where we could not see the clouds any more, but 
 could only hear the thunder now and then. 
 Pretty soon, father put the curtains down, and 
 shut the windows, and then it was quite dark 
 inside the coach, and the flashes of lightning 
 grew brighter. 
 
 "Next it began to rain. Some great drops 
 struck upon the window, and a great gust of wind 
 blew furiously over the tops of the trees. The 
 rain came faster and faster, and the water began 
 
AN ADVENTURE. 17 
 
 to pour down in torrents all around us. 1 kiieeled 
 up, and looked out at the front window to see 
 what Jotham was doing. He had an umbrella 
 over his head, and a great shaggy coat on ; and 
 just at that instant there came such a bright flash 
 of lightning as to dazzle my eyes so that I could 
 hardly see, and immediately afterwards, a most 
 terrible burst of loud, rattling sound, just over our 
 heads, which frightened me very much ; for I 
 thought that we were struck with lightning. But 
 it did not hurt us ; for the noise, after it had rattled 
 all over the sky, rolled and rumbled off, away 
 beyond the mountains. But before it was gone, 
 we heard another great crash just before us ; and 
 instantly Jotham stopped the horses. My father 
 called out to him to know what was the matter ; 
 and he said that a tree had fallen directly across 
 the road. 
 
 " My father looked out at the front window, as 
 well as he could, to see the free ; and I tried to 
 look too, but it was so dark that I could not set 
 it very well. Jotham moved his horses on till 
 they came up to it ; and my father asked him how 
 large a tree it was. He said it was very large 
 
 " ' What shall we do ? ' said my father. 
 
 " ' It lies up too high for us to get the carriage 
 over it/ said Jotham. 
 
18 LUCYS STORIES. 
 
 * ' Could we, both of us, move it with hand- 
 spikes,' said my father, * so as to get by ? ' 
 
 " ' No, sir,' said Jotham ; * ten men could not 
 move it. I could hack it off in time near the 
 rtump with my hatchet ; but I think it probable 
 that the quickest way would be for me to go on 
 with one of the horses and get an axe.' 
 
 " ' How far is it ? ' said my father. 
 
 " Jotham said that he thought it must be about 
 two miles and a half. My father then asked him 
 if it would not be possible in any way to go out 
 of the road, and get the carriage through the trees, 
 and so get by ; but Jotham said it was very steep 
 and rocky on both sides, and he thought it would 
 not be possible to get round. 
 
 " So it was finally concluded that he should go 
 for an axe. He accordingly drove the horses up 
 very close to the tree, and fastened one of them to 
 a large branch. Then he took the other out of 
 his harness, and mounted him. He tried to make 
 him jump over the tree ; but he would not, it was 
 so high. 
 
 " He then drove him out of the road into the 
 wishes, though it was raining and thundering all 
 the time. I looked out at the front windows, and 
 pretty soon I saw him come out of me woods 
 again, beyond the tree, and ride off as fast as he 
 could go. 
 
AN ADVENTURE. 19 
 
 "It diJ not thunder and lighten so much after 
 this, but it continued to rain ; and it began to 
 grow pretty dark. My father put his arm out at 
 the front window, and reached one of the lanterns 
 of the carriage, and took it in. He had some 
 matches in a little box, and so he lighted the lan- 
 tern, and that made it look more bright and cheer 
 ful in the carriage ; but it began to grow very 
 dark and dismal without. There was nothing, 
 however, that we could do, but to wait patiently 
 until Jotham came back. 
 
 " I tried to look at my picture-book a little 
 while ; but I found that I did not care much 
 about it, and so I put it back, and my mother 
 gave me a piece of cake to eat. When I had eaten 
 the cake, she advised me to lie down upon the 
 front seat, and see how many I could count be- 
 tween the flashes of lightning and the thunder 
 that came after the flashes. And 1 did. I lay 
 down and counted a long time." 
 
 " How many could you count ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " O, I don't remember exactly," said Miss 
 Anne ; u sometimes more and sometimes less — 
 according to the distance." 
 
 " Th« distance," said Lucy, — " what dis- 
 tance ? " 
 
 "Why, the distance of the thunder from us 
 
20 lucy's stories. 
 
 The lightning and the thunder are always, in fact, 
 at the same moment of time ; and when they are 
 near, they seem so. But when thoy are at any 
 distance, although the flash and the sound take 
 place together, yet we see the flash at once, while 
 it takes the sound some time to come to us ; and 
 that gives us time to count. And the farther off 
 the thunder is, the longer time we have to count." 
 
 14 1 mean to count," said Lucy, " the next time 
 I hear any thunder." 
 
 " I lay still a long time," continued Miss Anne, 
 (< counting ; at length there seemed to be some- 
 tning strange happening; and the first thing 1 
 knew, my father was taking me out of the car- 
 riage in his arms. I opened my eyes, and saw 
 that there was a bright moon shining upon a 
 house. There were lights in the windows of the 
 house. There was a strange man, whom I had 
 never seen before. I could not think where I 
 was, and what my father was going to do with 
 me. He carried me into the house, and through 
 a long entry, and into a little back sitting-room, 
 where there was a fire. My mother was there, 
 taking off her bonnet. My father laid me down 
 upon a settee which had a cushion upon it, ana 
 then went out again. 
 
 " I asked my mother what house that was, and 
 
AS ADVENTUKE. 21 
 
 she said that it was the tavern. I asked her how 
 we got over that great tree ; and she said that 
 Jotham came back with the axe and cut it off. 1 
 told her that I did not hear him, and she said that 
 I had been asleep. ' O no/ I said, * I have not 
 been asleep, I am sure.' My mother said that 
 then she did not know why I did not hear Jo- 
 tham ; for he came back with an axe, and 
 chopped a long time upon the tree, until he got it 
 off, and that then my father had got out of the 
 carriage, and helped him heave away the log, with 
 handspikes, and so they had got by. 
 
 " So I suppose I must have been asleep ; but 
 it did not seem to me that I had." 
 
 " Is that all the story ? " said Lucy, when sbe 
 found that Miss Anne paused. 
 
 « Yes," said Miss Anne, " that is all." 
 
23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JOANNA'S ROOM. 
 
 There was a little room near the kitchen, in 
 the house where Lucy lived, which was called 
 Joanna's room. It was a very pleasant room, and 
 it had been built on purpose for Joanna. There 
 was only a small entry between this room and dw 
 kitchen, and so it was very convenient for her 
 
 Joanna used to go and sit in this room some* 
 times, in the afternoon, after she had done her 
 work ; and here Lucy was very fond of going to 
 see her. Lucy liked to be in Joanna's room, for 
 it was a pleasant place, and she could look out of 
 the window into the yard and garden. Under the 
 window was a little border which Joanna planted; 
 and which was called Joanna's garden. 
 
 One afternoon, Lucy came to this room, and 
 knocked. The door was open, for it was a 
 pleasant summer afternoon, and she roulrl see 
 Joanna sitting at a table, writing. Still she 
 knocked. Her mother had told her tbn it was 
 alwavs proper to knock when she wished to eiite/ 
 
23 
 
 any private room. And Joanna's room was a 
 private room ; it belonged to Joanna alone. 
 
 At first, Joanna did not notice Lucy, as she 
 was very busy, writing. Presently, however, ?he 
 looked up and said, " Come in." 
 
 Lucy walked in. She had a little hammer in 
 one hand, and in the other she held the corners 
 of her apron, which she had drawn together so 
 as to keep what was in it from falling. 
 
 " Joanna," said Lucy, " may I come in here ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Joanna, " provided you will not 
 interrupt me." 
 
 " Provided ? " said Lucy ; " what does pro- 
 vided mean ? " 
 
 " Provided ? — why, If — If you won't inter- 
 rupt me." 
 
 " Then why don't you say If? " said Lucy ; 
 " it is a great deal easier word." 
 
 " I can't tell you now, child," said Joanna. 
 " I am busy. I want to write." 
 
 " I wish you would just tell me why you don't 
 say If 9 said Lucy, in a low and timid voice. 
 
 Joanna did not answer ; and so Lucy dropped 
 the corners of her apron, and let all the things 
 that were in it fall down upon the floor. They 
 made a loud, rattling noise. Lucy then sat down 
 by the side of them 
 
24 
 
 " You see, Joanna," said Lucy, " I am going 
 to make a table." 
 
 " Very well ; make what you like, — only don't 
 disturb me," replied Joanna. 
 
 Lucy then began to look over the things which 
 she had thrown down upon the floor. There 
 were several little blocks of wood, some long, and 
 some square and thin. There was also a small, 
 round, wooden box, with a cover. Lucy took 
 off the cover. The box was full of nails ; some 
 were small carpet nails ; and others were long, 
 but pointed at the end, so that they would drive 
 easily. 
 
 Lucy also had a little awl, with a straight but 
 sharp point. Royal made it for her. With this 
 she could make small holes in the wood, wher- 
 ever she wanted to drive a nail. 
 
 " Joanna," said Lucy, " I wish you would just 
 tell me how many legs I must have to my table." 
 
 " Four," said Joanna, — " only you must not 
 keep talking to me. I can't possibly write." 
 
 " Why, Joanna, Miss Anne can write, even il 
 I do talk to her." 
 
 " Very likely," said Joanna ; " but Miss Anne 
 and I are different. She can do a great many 
 things that I cannot. At any rate, I can't write 
 while you keep talking to me ; so, if you wan i to 
 
Joanna's room. 25 
 
 atay nere, you must amuse yourself, and not speak 
 to me at all." 
 
 "Why, suppose it is some very particular 
 word," said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, if it is something very special and im- 
 portant," said Joanna, " I suppose you must 
 speak ; but not otherwise." 
 
 After this, Lucy was very still for five minutes. 
 She took a thin, flat block for the top of her 
 table, and counted out four nails for the legs. 
 She then made holes, with her awl, in the corners 
 of the block, and drove the nails in. She, how- 
 ever, got one in the wrong place, and when she 
 tried to draw it out with the little claw which was 
 m the end of the handle of the hammer, she found 
 that she could not. It was driven in too far. 
 
 At length she laid down the hammer and he 
 block, and said, with a sigh, 
 
 " O dear me ! " 
 
 After waiting a few minutes, not knowing what 
 to do, she took up her table and hammer, and 
 went towards Joanna, slowly and timidly, be- 
 cause she was unwilling to interrupt her writing 
 again ; but she did not know what she should do. 
 unless Joanna would draw out the nail for her. 
 
 When Lucy came up to Joanna's table, Joan 
 3 
 
26 LUCY S STORIES. 
 
 na laid down her pen, and sighed, just as Lucy 
 had done, and said, in exactly the same tone, 
 
 " O dear me ! " 
 
 " What is the matter, Joanna ? " said Lucy 
 
 " Why, I can't write. I want to finish my 
 letter, so as to go out and take a walk ; and I can i 
 get along, because here is a little girl, who keeps 
 interrupting me all the time." 
 
 " Well, Joanna," said Lucy, " I only want to 
 have you get this nail out for me. You said I 
 might speak to you, if it was especial." 
 
 Joanna took the hammer and the little table 
 out of Lucy's hand, saying, at the same time, 
 
 " I wish, Lucy, you would go out into the 
 kitchen, until I have finished my letter." 
 
 " Why, Joanna," said Lucy, " there is not any 
 body out in the kitchen to take care of me." 
 
 " Well, then," said Joanna, " I will make a 
 bargain with you. As soon as I have finished 
 my letter, I am going out to take a walk, to get 
 some broom-stuff. Now, if you will be perfectly 
 still, and not speak to me once, I will ask your 
 mother to let you go with me." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, very much pleased. 
 
 " And I will get you four flowers " said Jo 
 anna. " But if you speak to me once while I am 
 
Joanna's rogu. 27 
 
 writing, 1 shall only get you three flowers , and 
 so every time you speak you must lose one flower. 
 And if you speak more than four times, then 1 
 shall not ask your mother to let you go." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " I shall not speak once ; 
 you may depend." 
 
 " We shall see," said Joanna. " I will draw 
 out this nail, and then you may go and sit down ; 
 and when we are ready, I shall say, One, two, 
 three, and begin." 
 
 So Joanna drew out the nail, then put the little 
 table, and the hammer, and the nail, back into 
 Lucy's hands; and Lucy went back and took 
 her seat upon the floor. When she was fairly 
 seated at her work, Joanna said, in a very deliber- 
 ate voice, 
 
 " One — two — three — and begin." 
 
 " O Joanna," said Lucy, " there is just one 
 thing before we begin that I want to know ; and 
 that is, what broom-stuff is." 
 
 " There goes one of your flowers," said Joanna, 
 
 " Why, Joanna, I was not ready to begin 
 then," said Lucy, in a complaining tone. 
 
 " There goes another." 
 
 Lucy was a little vexed to find that Joanna 
 would not answer her in any way, except telling 
 her that she was losing her flowers, and so sh* 
 
28 
 
 was silent. Piesently she began to reflect that 
 the agreement had been fairly made, and that, 
 after Joanna had given the signal for beginning, 
 she ought not to have spoken. Still she wanted, 
 very much, to know what broom-stuff was. After 
 thinking of it a moment, she concluded to wait, 
 and ask Joanna when they were taking the walk ; 
 and then she resolutely determined that she would 
 not speak a single word again, on any account 
 whatever. 
 
 And she did not speak for some time. But 
 when, at length, she got her table finished, she was 
 so much pleased to see how well it would stand, 
 that she wanted very much to ask Joanna to look 
 at it. She would not do it, however, as she knew 
 she should lose another of her flowers. So she 
 sat still, waiting, and wishing that Joanna would 
 come to the end of her letter. 
 
 At length she got up softly, and took her table 
 in her hand, thinking that she would go and carry 
 it to Joanna, and just hold it up before her, and 
 let her see it, without, however, speaking a word. 
 
 This was wrong ; for Lucy ought to have 
 known that holding up the table before Joanna, 
 so as to call her attention to it, would be taking 
 her attention off from her writing, and so would 
 interrupt her as effectually as if she were to speak 
 
29 
 
 to her in a loud voice. It is not so much the 
 sound that is made by the voice, which interrupts 
 a person who is busy, as the influence of what a 
 said, upon the mind, in attracting the attention ; 
 so that a loud noise of a carriage going by, or of 
 winds and storms beating against the windows, 
 would not interrupt a person as much as a ques- 
 tion asked in the lowest whisper, or even an object, 
 like Lucy's table, held up for a person to see. 
 
 When Lucy came up to Joanna with her table, 
 Joanna went on with her writing, and took no 
 notice of it. Lucy then held it a little nearer. 
 Joanna knew that she was there, but she went 
 on writing, without looking up or saying a word. 
 Lucy waited a minute or two longer, and then 
 she could no longer resist the temptation to say, 
 as she did in a very low and gentle voice, 
 
 " Look, Joanna ! " 
 
 Joanna raised her eyes from her work, and 
 looked not at the table, but at Lucy herself, and 
 said, 
 
 " There goes another of your flowers : now 
 there is but one left." 
 
 Lucy turned away in silence, and went back 
 to her place. She was very sorry that she had 
 lost so many of her flowers ; and she secretly 
 thought that Joanna was very strict; but shy 
 
30 LUCY S STORXilS. 
 
 knew that if she made any remonstrance or com- 
 plaint, she should lose the last flower too. 
 
 After sitting upon the floor a few minutes 
 longer, she concluded that she would go and put 
 her blocks and other things away, and get ready 
 to go and take the walk, — so as not to lose 
 any time when Joanna's letter should be finished. 
 This was a very wise plan ; for, by going out of 
 the room, she made sure of not interrupting Jo- 
 anna again. 
 
 So Lucy went and put her blocks and hammer 
 away in her treasury, and then went to find her 
 mother, in order to ask her if she might go and 
 take a walk with Joanna. She could not find 
 her mother; but she found Miss Anne, who 
 told her that her mother had gone out to walk, 
 and would not come back until tea-time. 
 
 Then Lucy told Miss Anne of Joanna's pro- 
 posal to take her out to walk with her, and she 
 isked Miss Anne if she might go. 
 
 " I rather think," said Miss Anne, " that Jo- 
 anna would prefer to go alone. You asked her 
 first to let you go with her, didn't you ? " 
 
 " No," said Lucy, " she proposed it herself. 
 She said that if 1 would not speak to her, a word, 
 till she had finished her letter, she would le; 
 me go." 
 
31 
 
 u And did not you speak to her ? " said Miss 
 Anne. 
 
 " Yes ; but she said," added Lucy, " that if 1 
 did not speak but four times, I might go, but then 
 1 must not have any flowers." 
 
 Miss Anne did not understand this explana- 
 tion very well ; but then she did not care much 
 whether she understood it or not. She was busy, 
 reading ; and all that she wanted, was to be sure 
 that Joanna was really willing to have Lucy go 
 with her. For as Joanna was going out to walk, 
 to refresh and enjoy herself, after her work, she 
 thought that it would not be right for Lucy to 
 go as her companion, unless Joanna was really 
 willing. 
 
 So Miss Anne said, in reply to Lucy's request, 
 
 " You may go back and wait until Joanna is 
 ready. I cannot let you go, merely because you 
 ask it ; but if she asks it herself, or sends you to 
 ask it, then I will consider whether I will take 
 the responsibility of letting you go." 
 
 " What do you mean by responsibility 1 " sale- 
 Lucy. 
 
 " Why, when your mother went out," said 
 Miss Anne, " she did not give me any authority 
 to let you go and take a walk. Now, if I should 
 let you go, in such a case, because I suppose the 
 
32 
 
 would consent if she were here, it would be ta- 
 king responsibility. I should be responsible to 
 her if she should ask me about it. I ought to have 
 good reasons to give her, why I let you go." 
 
 " I don't understand it very well," said Lucy. 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne, laughing, " and I don't 
 olame you very much, for 1 don't think that I 
 explain it very well. But never mind now. I 
 hear Joanna, I believe, in the kitchen ; and I ex- 
 pect that she has finished her letter, and is getting 
 ready to go." 
 
 * Lucy ran off with all speed, to see if Joanna 
 was really ready to go. She- found that she had 
 finished her letter, and was putting on her bonnet. 
 Lucy told Joanna what Miss Anne had said, and 
 Joanna sent her back to say that she should 
 really like to have her go with her. Accordingly 
 Miss Anne took the responsibility of giving her 
 permission. 
 
 When Lucy got back, she found Joanna sharp- 
 ening a knife upon a stone, which was placed 
 apon a shelf in the back kitchen, for that purpose 
 
 " What is that knife for ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " It is to get my broom-stuff" with," said 
 Foanna. 
 
 " O yes," said Lucy ; " and now you must tell 
 ne what broom-stuff is." 
 
Joanna's room. 33 
 
 " Why, broom-stuff, child," said Joanna, " is 
 the stuff that they make brooms of." 
 
 Joanna went on sharpening her knife, and 
 Lucy was silent. Presently, when Joanna had 
 made the knife as sharp as she wished, she looked 
 round, and saw that Lucy was leaning forward, 
 and looking very intently at a broom which was 
 hanging near her, against the wall. 
 
 " O, not such broom-stuff as that," said Joanna. 
 " I am going to make a hemlock broom." 
 
 " A hemlock broom ? " inquired Lucy. " Is 
 a hemlock broom better than such a broom as 
 this?" 
 
 " O, I don't know," said Joanna. " A hem 
 lock broom is such a one as the farmers make, 
 who live in the woods. I have not seen one for 
 a long time, but I used to make them when I 
 was a little girl, and I want to make one now, 
 if it is only to make me think of old times. So 
 [ am sharpening my knife to cut the hemlock 
 branches." 
 
 " I should think that Royal's hatchet would be 
 better," said Lucy. 
 
 "If he would go with us to cut down die 
 branches," answered Joanna. 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " I will go and see if I 
 can find him." 
 
34 
 
 But Lucy could not find him; -md so she 
 and Joanna had to go alone. Joanna earned 
 her knife in one hand, and led Lucy with th* 
 other. 
 
 They walked along through the garden, and 
 thence out through a back gate, which led into 
 the lane. This led down into the glen, behind 
 the house. They crossed the brook where Royal 
 had made the pen to confine his turtle, as de- 
 scribed in Lucy's Conversations. 
 
 After passing this brook, they followed a wind- 
 ing path which led along among rocks and trees, 
 until they came to a dense thicket, where Joanna 
 said she had observed that there was plenty of 
 hemlock trees. Lucy could not tell the hemlock 
 trees from a great many others which looked 
 somewhat like them. 
 
 Joanna cut off a great many small branches, 
 and threw them down upon the grass as fast as 
 she cut them. Lucy gathered them up as fast 
 as they were cut, and put them by themselves, 
 taking care to put the stems all one way. Jo- 
 anna told her that she would cut some small 
 branches for her, so that she could make a little 
 broom for herself, when she went home, — if she 
 could only get Royal to make her a handle 
 
JOANNA'S ROOM. 
 
 35 
 
 They staid in this place nearly half an hour, and 
 then they went home. 
 
 As they were going home, Lucy called upon 
 Joanna to get her her flower; but Joanna said 
 that she was tired of rambling about, and she 
 asked Lucy if she should not be willing to take a 
 story, instead of a flower. Lucy said that she 
 should ; and, accordingly, Joanna told her the story 
 of the Fog upon the Mountains, as they walked 
 siowly homewards. This story, though not in 
 precisely the language in which Joanna related it 
 is given in the next chapter. 
 
36 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 STORY OF THE FOG ON THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 There was once a girl named Mary, whc 
 lived with her father and mother, in a farm-house 
 at the foot of the mountains. When she was 
 about eight years old, her mother taught her U 
 milk, and she was very much pleased with this 
 attainment. 
 
 Her father made her a little milking stool with 
 three legs and a handle, which she used to keep 
 upon the barn yard fence, by the side of her 
 mother's larger milking stool ; and every morning 
 and evening she went out, and while her mother 
 was milking the two other cows, she would milk 
 the one which she called hers. Her cow's name 
 was May-day. 
 
 One night May-day did not come home with 
 the other cows; but Mary's mother said that she 
 thought she would be in the lane at the bars the 
 next morning. But on the next morning no 
 May-day was to be seen ; and Mary asked tier 
 mother to let her set off after breakfast, and go up 
 
FOG ON THE MOUNTAINS. 37 
 
 the mountain and find her. For the pasture 
 where the cows fed, extended some distance up 
 tne sides of one of the mountains. Her mothei 
 consented, and Mary put some bread and cheese 
 in a little basket for luncheon, and bade her moth- 
 er good morning, and went away. She crepl 
 through the bars which led to the lane, and then 
 followed the path, until she disappeared fi-om 
 view among the trees and bushes. 
 
 After a short time, she came to a brook. The 
 path led across the brook ; there was a log across 
 it for Mary to walk on. She stopped upon the 
 middle of the log to look down into the water. 
 The bed of the brook was filled with stones, 
 which were all covered with green moss, and the 
 water, in flowing along, seemed to be meandering 
 among tufts of moss. It was very beautiful. 
 
 Mary determined to come some day and get 
 some moss from these stones, and make a moss 
 seat near the house, to sit upon ; and then she 
 reflected that she ought not to stop any longer 
 looking at the brook, but that she must go on in 
 search of her cow. So she walked along to the 
 end of the log, and then stepped off, and followed 
 the path which led through the woods, gently as- 
 cending. 
 
 [n about half an hour, Mary came out into an 
 4 
 
38 
 
 opening ; that is, to a place whare the trees had 
 been cleared away, and grass had grown up all 
 over the ground. There were several clumps of 
 trees growing here and there, and a good many 
 raspberry bushes, with ripe raspberries, upon them. 
 Maiy thought that, after she had found the cow. 
 she would gather some of the raspberries, and eat 
 them with her luncheon. So she went on to the 
 top of a little hill, or swell of land, which was in 
 the middle of the opening, and looked around. 
 
 The cow was no where to be seen. The 
 opening was bounded by woods, in every direc- 
 tion. On one side, these woods extended fai 
 back among glens and valleys, and up the sides of 
 the mountains. On the other, Mary could see 
 over the tops of the forest trees, away to her fa- 
 ther's house, which was far below her, down the 
 valley. She could distinguish the house and the 
 barn, and the long shed between them ; and pres- 
 ently she noticed something moving in the barr 
 yard, and by close attention she made it out to r»e 
 her father with the cart and oxen going off to the 
 field. 
 
 There was, however, a kind of mist slowly 
 creeping up the valley, which soon began to hide 
 this group of buildings from Maiy's view. It 
 was one of those mornings in autumn when a fog 
 
FOG ON THE MOUNTAINS. 39 
 
 hangs over the rivers and brooks, and creeps along 
 the valleys, and at length, as the morning advances, 
 it rises and spreads until the whole country is 
 covered ; and then it breaks away, and floats off 
 in clouds, and is gradually dissipated by the sun. 
 The fog was rising in this way now, and Mary 
 watched it for a few minutes, as it moved slowly 
 on. First the barn yard fence disappeared ; then 
 the shed ; then the house, all but the chimneys , 
 then the barn ; and finally nothing but a great 
 white cloud could be seen covering the whole. As 
 Mary looked around her, she saw similar fog banks 
 lying in long, waving lines over the courses of the 
 streams, or spreading slowly through the \*alleys. 
 
 She took one more look in every direction, all 
 around the opening, for the cow ; and then she 
 concluded that she would eat her luncheon, before 
 she went any farther. There were two reasons 
 for this ; she began to feel hungry, — and then 
 she was tired of carrying her basket. So she 
 lightened her basket by eating up the bread and 
 cheese, and then rambled around among the 
 raspberry bushes for some minutes, eating rasp- 
 oerries. 
 
 When, at length, Mary came out from among 
 the bushes, she was astonished to find that the 
 whole country all around the little hill, that she 
 
w»»»»»wmj>»» 
 
 40 lucy's stories. 
 
 was standing upon, was covered with fog. Ii 
 iookod like a sea, or rather like r great lake sur- 
 rounded by mountains in the distance, and spot- 
 ted with islands, which were, in fact, the summits 
 of the nearer hills, which rose above the surface 
 of the vapor. 
 
 Although Mary could still thus see a great deal 
 of land, yet it looked so strange to her, that she 
 could not recognize any of it. The hills were 
 her old familiar friends, but she did not know 
 them under the disguise of islands and promon- 
 tories in a lake. She did not know what to do. 
 
 She concluded, however, pretty soon, that she 
 would ramble about a little while, looking for the 
 cow, but not far away from the hill, and then, 
 when the fog should clear off, she could see 
 which way to go. So she came down the hill, 
 and began to walk about the opening, and in the 
 edge of the woods ; but no cow was to be seen. 
 
 At one time, when she had got into the woods 
 a, little farther than usual, following a little path 
 which led along a green bank under some tall 
 maples, she observed a gray squirrel, running, or 
 rather gliding, along a log, with his plume of a 
 tail curved gracefully over his back. From the 
 end of the log he passed through the air, with a 
 very graceful leap, to the extremity of a low limb 
 
FOG ON THE MOUNTAINS. 41 
 
 hanging down from a great hemlock tree. The 
 limb bent down with his weight almost to the 
 giound. He ran up the limb to the body of the 
 tree, and then up the tree half way to the top, 
 where he ran out to the extremity of a long 
 branch ; and then leaped across, at a great height, 
 into the top of a maple which grew at a little dis- 
 tance. Mary was delighted with the beautiful 
 form and graceful motions of the squirrel, and she 
 followed him along, until at last he ran into a hole 
 in the side of a monstrous tree. It was rather the 
 trunk of a tree, — for it was so old that the top 
 had long since fallen away, and left the trunk 
 alone standing, — old, shaggy, and hollow. His 
 nest was there. 
 
 Mary waited a few minutes to see if he would 
 come out ; but he did not. Just at this time she 
 began to observe that it was somewhat misty 
 around her, in the woods. She then thought 
 that the fog must have been rising and spreading 
 until it had reached the place where she was; 
 and she began to be afraid that she should not be 
 able to see across the opening, so as to find hei 
 way back to the hill, in the middle of it. She 
 immediately attempted to go back to the open- 
 ing, but she could not find her way. She soon 
 became bewildered and lost; and the more sha 
 4* 
 
42 lucy's stories. 
 
 wandered about, the more she seemed to get en 
 tangled in the woods. 
 
 Mary did not know what to do. She sat down 
 upon a large stone, and began to feel very anxious 
 and unhappy. She thought that, if the sun would 
 only shine, she could tell which way to go ; for 
 she had often observed, when she was coming up 
 into the pasture in the morning, that she was 
 coming away from the sun ; and when she went 
 back, it shone in her face. So she knew that if 
 she could see the sun, and go towards it, she 
 would soon come down near to her father's house. 
 
 She sat here for some time, but the fog seemed 
 to grow thicker and thicker. As she was musing 
 upon her lonely and somewhat dangerous situa- 
 tion, she heard a rustling in a thicket pretty neai 
 her. At first she thought it was a bear; and 
 she was alarmed. Then she reflected that her 
 father had told her there were no bears in his 
 pasture, and she concluded that she would go 
 cautiously and see what it was. 
 
 So she crept along softly, and presently began 
 to get glimpses through the thicket. The bushes 
 moved more and more. There was something 
 red there ; it was a cow. A moment afterwards, 
 she came into full view of it ; and behold it was 
 Diav-day ! 
 
FOG ON THE MOUNTAINS. 43 
 
 Mary was rejoiced, but she could not think 
 what May-day was doing there ; she seemed to 
 be hooking the bushes. Mary took up a stick, 
 and attempted to drive her out ; but May-day did 
 not move from her place, — she only stepped 
 about a little, and hooked the bushes more than 
 ever. This was very mysterious; and Mary 
 came up nearer, and looked very earnestly to dis- 
 cover what it could mean. At length the mys- 
 tery was unravelled. The cow was caught by 
 the horns in the thicket, and could not get away. 
 Somehow or other, in rubbing her head upon the 
 trunk of a tree, she had got her horns locked in a 
 sort of tangle of branches which grew there, and 
 she could not get them out again. 
 
 At first, Mary did not see that she could do any 
 thing herself to help the poor cow out of her 
 difficulty, except to find her own way out of the 
 woods as soon as possible, and get her father to 
 come and release her. On more mature reflec 
 tion, however, it seemed to her that it would be 
 an excellent thing if she could get the cow free ; 
 for probably the cow would know the way home, 
 and so she could herself find the way by just 
 following her. She accordingly went nearer, m 
 order to examine the branches, by which the 
 
44 lucy's stories. 
 
 horns had been entangled, more closely, so as to 
 see if she could not do something to help the 
 cow to extricate herself. 
 
 She found that the horns had got caught in 
 such a way, that if the cow would move her 
 head sideways, she could get it out, — though 
 she could not get it out by moving it backwards 
 or forwards, nor by working it up and down. So 
 she determined to tiy to make the cow move 
 sideways. First, however, she took hold of the 
 end of one long branch, which helped to confine 
 the horns, and pulled it away as far as she could : 
 and then she contrived to get this end around behinc* 
 another tree, so as to prevent its springing back 
 This made it easier for the cow to get out. Then 
 she got a stick, and came around to the side of the 
 cow, and tried to drive her. The cow pulled, and 
 pushed, and staggered around this way and that, 
 — every way, in fact, but the right way. Mary 
 perceived, however, that her horns were gradually 
 working along between the limbs, towards the 
 place where they could get free. So she perse- 
 vered. At length one horn slipped out, and the 
 other followed immediately after; and the cow, 
 partly through her joy at being released from her 
 confinement, and partly from fear of the great 
 
FOG ON THE MOUNTAINS. 47 
 
 stick which Mary had been brandishing against 
 her, wheeled around, and gallopped out of the 
 thicket, tossing her homs and whisking her tail. 
 
 Mary walked along after her, in hopes that she 
 would at once take the road which would lead 
 home. The cow walked steadily on, and Mary 
 soon perceived that there was something like a 
 path where she was going. It led sometimes 
 over grass ground, and sometimes through trees 
 and bushes ; but it all looked strange to Mary, 
 and the fog was so thick that she could see 
 but a very short distance on each side of her. 
 Once the path which the cow was taking led 
 through a low, wet place in the woods, which 
 /ooked very muddy. But Mary did not dare to 
 stop ; for she did not know what she should do 
 to find her way out, if she should lose sight of 
 the cow. So she pulled off her stockings and 
 shoes as quick as possible, in order to keep them 
 clean and dry, and then followed on, running 
 along upon the mossy logs, and leaping from 
 stump to stone. She got safely over; but she 
 had not time to put on her stockings and snoes 
 again, for fear of losing the track of the cow, 
 and so she went on barefoot. 
 
 She proceeded in this way for some time, 
 until, at length, suddenly the cow came out into a 
 
48 
 
 wider and better path ; and in a minute or two 
 after, she came up to a pair of bars, and stopped 
 Mary could not think where she was. Shf 
 looked around. She could perceive the dim form 
 of some great square building at a little distance, 
 just distinguishable through the fog. She climbed 
 up upon the fence, to look at it more distinctly. 
 It was her father's barn ; and the house was close 
 by. In a word, the cow had conducted her safely 
 home. Mary could excel her altogether in con- 
 triving a way to get her horns disentangled from 
 the branches of a tree ; but she could beat Mary 
 in finding her way out of the woods in a fog. In 
 fact, Mary found that, though she was a very pool 
 contriver, she was a very good guide. 
 
MART JAY. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MARY JAY. 
 
 Lucy went to a kind of a school, when she was 
 about five years old. It was a family school ; 
 that is, a school for the children of one family, 
 though several other children went to it. There 
 was no large school near where Lucy lived, be- 
 cause there were not children enough. And so 
 one of the families that lived near there employed 
 a teacher to come and teach a few children. 
 The school-room was a little back room, up stairs, 
 over the gardener's room. 
 
 Lucy had no school to go to ; and, as she had 
 the character of being a very still, gentle, and 
 obedient girl, the lady and gentleman who had 
 established the family school said that she might 
 come and be taught with their children. Lucy 
 was glad, for she wanted to go to school. 
 
 One of the scholars came to call for her the 
 first day, to show her the way. It was a pleas- 
 ant snmmei morning, and the birds were singing 
 in the trees. 
 
 5 
 
50 lucf's STORICS. 
 
 The girl that came for Lucy appeared to be a 
 year or two older than Lucy. She came in, and 
 sat still in the parlor while she was waiting ft* 
 Lucy to get ready. Lucy's mother spoke to *iei 
 several times, but she did not answer much. She 
 seemed to be afraid. 
 
 Presently, when Lucy was ready, they went 
 out of the door together. Lucy had her bag in 
 her hand, with an apple and a book in it. The 
 other girl had a bag too. She opened the gate 
 to let Lucy go out, and then shut it after her. 
 Lucy's mother stood at the door, and bade them 
 good morning. 
 
 The two children took hold of each other's 
 hands, and walked along for some minutes, with- 
 out speaking a word. At length Lucy's com 
 panion said to her, timidly, 
 
 " Isn't your name Lucy ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy. 
 
 They walked along a little farther without 
 speaking, when Lucy said, with a hesitating voice 
 
 " I don't know what your name is." 
 
 "My name is Marielle," said the other girl 
 
 " Why, what a funny name ! " said Lucy 
 " I never heard of any body named Marielle." 
 
 " I know it," said Marielle ; " and my name 
 
MART JAY. 51 
 
 was xWary at first, but now they always call me 
 Marielle." 
 
 " What for ? " said Lucy. 
 
 "Why, you see," said Marielle, "that my 
 mother's name is Mary, too ; and so my father 
 and my uncle William always called her Mary, 
 and they called me little Mary, to distinguish. 
 And I did not like to be called little Mary, and 
 [ told my father so." 
 
 " And then did he change your name to Ma- 
 rielle?" said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Marielle. " He told mother that 
 ella or elle, was a kind of an ending that meant 
 little ; and so they called me Mariella, and now 
 generally they call me Marielle." 
 
 " I think your name is a very pretty name," 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Marielle. " I like it a great deal 
 better than little Mary ; but I don't like it per- 
 fectly well, for it means little, after all." 
 
 The children walked along by a foot path at 
 the side of the road for some minutes after this, 
 until at length they came to a stone wall, pretty 
 tight and smooth upon the outside, and higher 
 than the children's heads. Branches of trees and 
 shrubbery hung over the wall from the top 
 
52 
 
 Marielle said that their garden was over the othei 
 aide of that wall. 
 
 " Your garden ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Fes," said Marielle ; " and that is where we 
 go to play in the recesses of our school." 
 
 After they had gone a little farther, Lucy 
 found that they were coming near a house, which 
 had a handsome yard in front, filled with trees 
 and shrubbery. Just before they reached this 
 yard, there was a sort of a door, in the stone 
 wall, very near the end of it, which Marielle 
 suddenly opened. She stepped in herself, and 
 then held the door open for Lucy to follow. 
 Lucy went in, cautiously and timidly, and found 
 herself in a long passage-way, with a smooth 
 gravel walk beneath her feet, and a pretty green 
 grass border on each side. Beyond the border, 
 on one side, was the paling, or open fence, which 
 separated the passage from the front yard of the 
 house. On the other side was a kind of frame- 
 work called a trellis, which was covered with 
 grape-vines. Beyond the trellis was the garden. 
 
 Marielle shut the door, and latched it, after 
 Lucy, and then said, 
 
 " We call this the door gate, and we musl 
 never leave it open, Lucy." 
 
Mary jay. 53 
 
 l^en she walked along through the passage- 
 way, and Lucy followed her. At the end of it, 
 they came into a pleasant little yard, near the en% 
 of the house ; and they passed across this yard, and 
 thence through another gate, which was low, and 
 •nade of open work. They passed through this 
 gate, and then turned round a corner, and went 
 along a walk with rose-bushes and snowballs upon 
 one side, and flower-beds upon the other, until 
 they came to a door. This door was open, Rnd 
 several children were sitting upon the steps, ar- 
 ranging flowers. 
 
 Lucy staid here a few minutes, and then they 
 heard a little bell ring, and all the children began 
 to run up stairs. Marielle waited to go up with 
 Lucy, and show her the way. When they 
 reached the top of the stairs, they turned, and 
 went into the school-room. 
 
 Lucy thought it was a very pleasant school- 
 room ; but she did not have time to look about 
 much, for Marielle led her directly to the teach- 
 er's table. The teacher said that she was glad to 
 see her, and asked her to look around the room, 
 and see where she should like to sit. Lucy looked 
 about a little, but could not decide very well ; and 
 so she said that she should like to sit with Ma 
 rielle. 
 
54 lucy's stories. 
 
 " Very well," said the teacher ; " is there room 
 at your table, Marielle ? " 
 
 Marielle said there was room ; and so she led 
 Lucy along to the corner where her seat was. 
 There was a little table there, and a chair near it. 
 There was also a small book -shelf upon the wall, 
 near, where Marielle kept her books, and a nail by 
 the side of it, where she hung her bag. 
 
 Marielle brought a small chair for Lucy, and 
 put it by the side of her table, and she hung her 
 bag upon her nail. She told her, however, that 
 in the recess she would go and get another nail, 
 and drive it up upon Lucy's side of the book- 
 shelf, so that Lucy could have a nail to herself. 
 
 Then Lucy sat down in her seat, and began to 
 'ook about the room. 
 
 There were several little tables and desks in 
 various places. Some were near the windows, 
 and others back near the teacher's seat, which 
 was before the fireplace. Upon the teacher's 
 table there was lying a large plume, made of three 
 or four peacock's feathers. Marielle told Lucy 
 that when that plume was lying down, they might 
 all talk, but, then, when the teacher put it up in 
 its place, at the end of the table, then it was 
 study hours, and they must not talk at all. 
 There was no fire in the fireplace, because it was 
 
MARY J AT. 55 
 
 summer ; but instead of it there was a large bouquet 
 of flowers and shrubbery, which the children had 
 gathered in the garden, and placed there, with 
 the ends of the stems in a jar of water, which 
 stood upon the hearth. 
 
 The school had not yet begun, but the children 
 were all busy, getting their places and taking out 
 their books. They were talking to each other 
 very busily, but in low and gentle tones of voice. 
 There were some boys and some girls ; but they 
 were all small children, except one. There was 
 one pretty large girl sitting in a corner at t desk by 
 herself. One of the small children wa standing 
 by her side talking with her. She h,J a round, 
 full face, though she looked rather pale ; and the 
 expression of her face, and of her beaming blue 
 eyes, was an expression of contentment and 
 happiness. 
 
 Lucy asked Marielle who that great girl was, 
 sitting in the corner ; and she answered, 
 
 " Why, don't you know Mary Jay ? That b 
 Mary Jay. You see she is " 
 
 Just at this moment the little bell was rung at 
 the teacher's table ; and the teacher put the plume 
 up, which was the signal for all the children to 
 stop talking, and attend to what the teachoi had 
 to say. And so Marielle stopped, and sat back in 
 
56 lucy's stories. 
 
 ner chair ; and Lucy therefore lost the opportu- 
 nity of hearing what she was going to tell her 
 about Mary Jay. Lucy determined to ask her in 
 tne recess ; but she forgot it. 
 
 F „s in the recess the girls had such a joyous 
 time running about the alleys and walks in the 
 garden, that Lucy had no time to think of any 
 thing else. There were several broad walks 
 crossing each other at right angles, and shaded 
 in part by fruit-trees, which overhung them. In 
 one part of the garden there was a large square, 
 covered with trees and shrubbery, and grass be- 
 neath. Here the children played hide-and-go- 
 seek,, until they were tired: and then they went 
 into a kind of a summer-house at the farther end 
 of it, which Lucy did not see for some time, it 
 was so hidden by foliage. 
 
 Here the children sat down together and talked 
 a little while, and one of them asked why Mary 
 Jay did not come. Another of the children, who 
 had a little book in her hand, said that Mary Jay 
 was not coming out that day, because she had a 
 hard sum to do. The children all seemed to be 
 sorry. Marielle said that she thought she might 
 just as well have left her sum till after recess. 
 
 " See what a picture she painted for me ! " said 
 the little girl with a book. 
 
MARY JAY. 57 
 
 So saying, she opened the book, and took out a 
 attle picture, which she had placed very carefully 
 between the leaves. It was a very beautiful pic- 
 ture. There was a yard with a garden fence, 
 and some trees hanging over it, and a dove-house 
 in the end of a shed. There was a boy there, 
 too, with some grains in a little basket, trying to 
 call down the doves, to feed them. One was flying 
 down, and the other was still standing upon the 
 shelf in front of the dove-house, looking as if he 
 was just ready to fly down too. 
 
 The heads of the children were immediately 
 crowded together around the picture, and they aP 
 exclaimed that it was very beautiful. 
 
 " Is there a story to it, Jane ? " said Manelie. 
 
 " Yes," said the little girl who had the picture, 
 and whose name, it seems, was Jane. " Mary 
 Jay said there was a story to it, but she could 
 not tell it to me then, for there was not time. 
 Only that dove's name," she added, pointing tc 
 the one just going to fly down, " is Bob-o'-link." 
 
 " Bob-o'-link ! " exclaimed several voice? at 
 once, " what a name for a dove ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Jane, " because he is black and 
 white, and so *h*t boy called him Bob-o'-link ; fa 
 a Bob-o'-link is black and white." 
 
 " I never saw a Bob-o'-link," s*.id Lucy. 
 
58 
 
 u And the other dove's name is Cooroo," con- 
 tinued Jane. 
 
 "My brother Royal has got some doves," 
 laid Lucy. 
 
 '■' Has he ? " said Jane ; " how many ? " 
 
 " I don't know how many," said Lucy. " But 
 one of them is white, and his name is Flake." 
 
 " Are your brother's doves pretty tame ? A 
 said Marielle. 
 
 " Flake is pretty tame," said Lucy. " Royal 
 can catch him whenever he wants him." 
 
 " Did not Mary Jay tell you anything more 
 about the picture ? " said Marielle to Jane. 
 
 " No," said Jane, " but she promised that she 
 would tell us all the story some day, out in the 
 summer-house. Hark ' there is the bell." 
 
 The girls listened, and heard the bell ringing ; 
 and so they all began to go towards the house. 
 As they were going up stairs to the school-room, 
 Lucy asked Marielle why they always called 
 Mary Jay by her whole name. 
 
 " Why don't you call her only Mary, some- 
 times ? " she asked. 
 
 "Why, Mary Jay is not her whole name/' 
 *aid Marielle. "That U only her first name 
 We always call her Mary Jay." 
 
 " What is her whole came, then ? " said Lucy 
 
MARY JAY. 59 
 
 But Marielle could not answer this question ; 
 for at that moment they went into the school- 
 room, and they saw that the plume was up, and 
 consequently to speak would be against the 
 law. 
 
 Lucy heard no more of Mary Jay until she 
 went home from school ; and then, when she was 
 giving an account of her adventures at school to 
 Miss Anne and Royal, and was describing Mary 
 Jay, she ended by saying, 
 
 " And, Royal, you don't know what beautiful 
 pictures she can paint." 
 
 " I wish I could see some of them," said 
 Royal. 
 
 " I don't understand," said Miss Anne, " how 
 so old a scholar happens to go to your school. 
 She can't belong to the family. I don't believe 
 that she is really a scholar there." 
 
 " Yes she is," said Lucy ; " she does sums." 
 
 " How do you know?" said Royal. 
 
 "Because," said Lucy, " that was the reason 
 why she could not come out in the recess." 
 
 " How old should you think she was, Lucy?" 
 said Miss Anne. 
 
 "Why, about twenty, — or forty, at least," 
 said Lucy. 
 
 Royal burst into a loud and boisterous fit of 
 
60 
 
 laughter at this estimate ; while Lucy herself 
 looked ashamed and perplexed, and said, 
 
 " You need not laugh, Royal ; for, at any rate, 
 she is older than }*ou." 
 
 Royal only laughed the more at this ; — even 
 Miss Anne smiled, and Lucy, perceiving it, began 
 to look seriously troubled. Miss Anne attempted 
 to turn her thoughts awa}^ from the subject, by 
 asking her how she liked her school. 
 
 Lucy said she liked it very much indeed. 
 
 ' ' I wish I could go to your school," said 
 Royal. 
 
 u O no," said Miss Anne, "you are too 
 large." 
 
 "lam not so large as Mary Jay," said Royal, 
 " according to Lucy's story." 
 
 " I don't understand about Mary Jay's case," 
 said Miss Anne, " I confess. There seems to be 
 some mystery about it. But I certainly should 
 not think that they would be willing to have a 
 boy as old as 3011 in their school, — unless he 
 was a very remarkable boy indeed." 
 
 "Why not?" said Royal. 
 
 "Because," said Miss Anne, " it is a private 
 school, opening into a very valuable garden, 
 and, of course, all the fruits and flowers are ex- 
 posed." 
 
mart jay 61 
 
 ** No, not aL? said Lucy ; " there is only a 
 part of the garden that we can go in." 
 
 " How do you know ? " said Royal. 
 
 "Why, I was walking along with Marielle, 
 and I wanted to run down a winding walk by 
 the great pear-tree, and Marielle said we must 
 not go there." 
 
 " What great pear-tree ? " said Royal. 
 
 " O, a great pear-tree there was there." 
 
 " Couldn't you go there at all ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Not unless the teacher went with us," said 
 Lucy, " or else Mary Jay. At least, that is what 
 Marielle said." 
 
 The children talked no more about the school 
 at this time, but Miss Anne said that she meant 
 to ask Lucy's mother about Mary Jay ; for she 
 wanted very much to know how there came to 
 be so large a scholar in such a little school. 
 
 All this account of Mary Jay is given here, 
 because Lucy afterwards learned more about her, 
 and heard her tell a number of stories, some of 
 which are given, farther on in this book. But 
 Lucy did not learn anything more about her 
 that day, nor hear any of her stories. But she 
 heard one story that afternoon from her father. 
 He told it to her, while he was sitting in a chai 
 6 
 
62 
 
 LUCY'S STORIES. 
 
 in the yard behind the house, ooking towards 
 Royal's hen coop. It was the story of the Old 
 Polander. This story is given in the next 
 chapter. 
 
THE OLD FOUNDER. 63 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 STORY OF THE OLD POLANDER. 
 
 Once there was a cockerel called the old Po- 
 Jander. He was black. He had a little tuft of 
 feathers upon his head. He ate corn. He walked 
 about among his hens with an air of great impor- 
 tance and dignity, and when he was pleased, he 
 would flap his wings and crow aloud. The hens 
 had caps of feathers upon their heads, too. 
 
 The old Polander belonged to a gentleman 
 and his little girl. The gentleman was going to 
 give him away to his nephews, - the little girl's 
 cousins, — who lived hundreds of miles off. Her 
 uncle was going to take the old Polander home 
 with him in the steamboat and he stage. The 
 little girl was sorry to have him sent away. 
 They were going to send him in a box. They 
 caught him, and put him in the box. They put 
 three hens in with him for company. Then they 
 began to nail some narrow strips of wood across 
 the top of the box, so as to make a cage of it, 
 and keep him from getting out. 
 
64 LUCI S STORIES. 
 
 While they were nailing on the strips, he gave 
 a sudden spring ana broke away. He ran off 
 into the yard ; and, when he found he was at 
 liberty, he began to step about with great satisfac- 
 tion. Then he flapped his wings and crowed. 
 
 They drove him into a shed, and caught him 
 again. This time they were more careful in put 
 ting him into the box, and in nailing on the strips. 
 The little girl stood by, wishing that he would get 
 out again. She did not like to see him nailed up 
 in a cage. And she did not like to have him go 
 away. 
 
 But this time he did not get out. They naileu 
 him up securely. He put his head out between 
 the wooden bars, but the interstices were too nat 
 row for him to get his body through, and so he 
 soon gave up the idea of making his escape. 
 
 They put some corn into the cage, for the old 
 Polander and his hens to eat. But they paid no 
 attention to it. They were so much agitated at 
 being shut up together in such a strange place, 
 that they had no appetite. So the people left 
 the corn in there for them to eat on the way, and 
 they put the cage with the other things, that were 
 to go in the steamboat. There was a trunk; 
 and a great picture, with its frame, nailed up in a 
 flat box ; and a large carpet bag, and some chairs. 
 
THE OLD POLANDEE. 65 
 
 All these things were left in the yard, waiting for 
 the man to come in the cart to take them away. 
 The poor little girl was sadly troubled to think 
 that her cockerel was going awaj^. She came 
 and offered him some of her bread through the 
 bars of his prison ; but he would not eat. 
 
 Presently the cart came ; and the man lifted 
 the box and all the other things into it, and then 
 drove awa}\ The gentleman had told him to 
 take them to the steamboat. So he went into 
 the city, and passed along through the streets, till 
 he came to the wharf, where the steamboat was. 
 Then he took off the cage, and the picture box, 
 and the trunk, and the carpet bag, and the chairs, 
 and put them down upon the wharf by the side 
 of the steamboat. 
 
 By and by the gentleman came down to the 
 wharf to see if his things had been carried safely 
 there. He found them all there upon the wharf. 
 There were a great many other things upon the 
 wharf. There were barrels, and boxes, and 
 trunks, and other things, which had been sent 
 there to go in the steamboat. There were some 
 men there putting the things in. The}' called it 
 putting the things on board. They had a broad 
 plank ; one end rested on the wharf, and the 
 other end was down in the steamboat ; and so 
 6 
 
56 lucy's stories. 
 
 they could slide the boxes and barrels down 5 
 and then they had a kind of a wheelbarrow to 
 wheel the boxes away to any part of the steam- 
 boat where they wanted to put them. As to the 
 barrels, they could roll them along easily, without 
 any wheelbarrow. 
 
 All the people that wished to send anything by 
 the steamboat, had to pay some money. There 
 was a man upon the wharf, who had a little book 
 and a pencil in his hands ; and he wrote the 
 names of the things as fast as the people brought 
 them, and told them how much to pay. He told 
 the gentleman that he must pay a half a dollar for 
 his articles. So the gentleman paid him half a 
 dollar, and he wrote it down in his book. Then 
 the men took the things, and slid them down into 
 the steamboat. They put the cage near the 
 middle of the steamboat, at the end of a great 
 pile of trunks, which reached from the captain's 
 office away to the main shaft. The cage came 
 exactly under the main shaft. 
 
 The main shaft is a great round iron beam, 
 which passes across the steamboat in the middle. 
 The great paddle-wheels, which go round, and 
 make the steamboat move through the water, 
 are fastened to the ends of the main shaft. Some 
 part of the steam engine takes hold of the main 
 
THE OLD POLANDER. 67 
 
 shaft in ihe middle, and makes it go round. The 
 main shaft was not moving when they put the 
 cage under it, because the boat was not going 
 then. It was standing still at the wharf. It was 
 not time yet for the steamboat to sail. It would 
 not be time until evening. So when the gentle- 
 man saw the cage put safely in its place, under 
 the main shaft, and all the other things properly 
 stowed away, he went back to the city to wait 
 until evening, when the boat was going to sail. 
 
 When the evening came, he returned on board 
 the boat. He found a great many people there. 
 He went to the end of the great pile of trunks to 
 see the old Polander and his hens. They were 
 there all safe, only they had rubbed off some of 
 their feathers. The cage was laid down upon 
 its side, so that the prisoners could look out a 
 little through the bars ; though there was not 
 much for them to see. There were a good many 
 feathers lying upon the deck of the steamboat, 
 and also some of the corn which had been put in 
 for them to eat. The cockerel and the hens had 
 pushed out the corn and the feathers, some how 
 or other, in walking about. The gentleman put 
 the corn back into the cage, but they did not eat. 
 
 When all the passengers were ready, and the 
 last hell had rung, the steamboat sailed awav 
 
68 
 
 lATCY'S STORIES 
 
 The sun went down, and the evening came on, 
 and they lighted lamps all over the steamboat. 
 By this time they were far out to sea. The pas- 
 sengers were down in the cabins, reading at the 
 tables, or talking, or eating their suppers — all 
 except a few who were still upon the deck. 
 These that were upon the deck could see noth- 
 ing, all around the boat, but water — water on 
 every side. Only now and then they could see, 
 at a great distance, a little star of light, too low 
 down to be a star of the sky. It was a light- 
 house upon the land, a very high lighthouse, 
 with a great bright light in the top of it, so that 
 the men in the ships and steamboats might know 
 where the land was. But though the lighthouse 
 was very high, and the light in the top of it was 
 very bright, they could see nothing from the 
 steamboat but a faint star, down very near to the 
 horizon. It was because they were so far away 
 from it. 
 
 At length, about nine o'clock, the passengers 
 went to bed ; and while they were sleeping, the 
 steamboat went ploughing on through the water, 
 lour after hour, all the night long. At length, 
 the day dawned in the east, and the light of it 
 gleamed in a little, between the captain's office 
 and the ladies' cabin As soon as the old P<>- 
 
THE OLD POLAfeDER. 69 
 
 lander saw it, he set up a loud crow, to wake his 
 hens, and let them know it was morning. 
 
 The gentleman heard him crow. " Ah ! " 
 said he, " the old cockerel is recovering his spirits. 
 Perhaps this morning he will have some appetite 
 to eat." 
 
 So, an hour or two after, when he was dressed, 
 and ready for his breakfast, he went and borrowed 
 a tea-cup from the forward cabin, and filled it 
 with water, and carried it to the cage, to give the 
 poor imprisoned birds a drink. He held the edge 
 of the cup up between the bars of the cage. The 
 interstices were so narrow that he could not get 
 it in entirely. He looked in to see how the poor 
 prisoners fared. They were crowded in, heads, 
 tails, legs, and wings, all mixed together, so that 
 they could not get at the cup to drink, very well. 
 
 Presently, one hen found the way to it, and 
 began to drink. The old Polander's head was 
 near; but he was so polite and gentlemanly, 
 that he would not take any until all his hens had 
 been supplied. They drank, one after another; 
 and at length the water was all gone. The gen- 
 tleman then went and filled the cup again, and 
 after all the hens had drank, the rooster drank 
 himself, and then crowed to express his satisfac- 
 tion. The passengers heard him crow, and won 
 
70 
 
 dered how there happened to be a cockerel on 
 
 board the steamboat. 
 
 By and by, the steamboat came to the land. 
 The passengers went ashore, and rode away in 
 various stage-coaches and carnages. They put 
 the cage, with the old Polander and his hens in it, 
 upon the top of a stage-coach ; while the gen- 
 tleman who had the care of them rode within. 
 They put the cage down upon its side, so that 
 the cockerel and his hens could see out, and 
 pnjoy the prospect of the houses and farms along 
 the way. When they stopped at the taverns to 
 water the horses, or to change them, the boys 
 gathered around to see the strange sight of a 
 rooster and his family riding in the stage; and 
 the old Polander crowed in alternation with the 
 tavern rooster in the barn yard. 
 
 At one time, the gentleman got some oats from 
 a barn, and threw into their cage. They ate the 
 oats with the greatest eagerness, — all except the 
 old Polander, who waited till he saw that all his 
 hens were well supplied, and then he ate as fast 
 as they. 
 
 At night, the whole party reached their home. 
 They took the box down from the stage, and 
 carried it into the yard. They split off the bars 
 from the cage. The old P)lande/ walked out, 
 
THE JLD POLANDER. 71 
 
 and his hens followed him They looked around, 
 surprised and bewildered, for a few minutes, and 
 then the old Polander flapped his wings and 
 crowed. He walked about among his hens a 
 minute, with a majestic air, and, seeing that they 
 had arrived safe at the end of their journey, with 
 no other injury than that their caps were a little 
 tumbled, he crowed again louder than ever; 
 and they all went to work immediately catching 
 grasshoppers and crickets for supper. 
 This is a true story. 
 
i& LUCY'S STORIFH. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE MOROCCO BOOK. 
 
 The next day, when Mis? Anne was getting 
 Lucy ready to go to school, she told tar that she 
 had found out something about Mary Ja) 
 
 " What is it ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, one thing is, that she is lame. ,, 
 
 " O no," said Lucy, " she is not lame. She js 
 a very beautiful girl indeed." 
 
 Lucy did not know exactly what Miss Anne 
 meant by lame ; but she thought it was some- 
 thing unfavorable in regard to her appearance, 
 and so she contradicted it. Lucy was right 
 about Mary Jay's countenance ; for it was really 
 very pleasing. 
 
 " I did not say that she was not beautiful," 
 said Miss Anne, " but only that she was lame. 
 That means, that she cannot walk very well." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " I don't believe that she 
 is lame." 
 
 " Did you see her walk ? " said Miss Anne. 
 
 * No," said Lucy ; " she sat still all the time.* 
 
THE MOROCCO BOOK. 7S 
 
 " Didn't she come out in the recess ? " asked 
 Miss Anne. 
 
 " No," said Lucy ; " but that was because she 
 had a hard sum to do, and not because she was 
 lame." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Anne, "you will see. 
 Only, if she is lame, you must be sure and not 
 laugh at her." 
 
 " O no, Miss Anne, I am sure I should not 
 laugh at her." 
 
 "No, I think you would not; but sometimes 
 children do, and so I thought I would speak to 
 you about it." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " I don't believe she is 
 lame at all ; and if she was, I am sure I shouldn't 
 laugh at her." 
 
 So saying. Lucy went away to school. She 
 walked along the road, as she had done the 
 morning before, only now she was alone. The 
 way was very direct, and she thought that she 
 could find it herself, without any difficulty. She 
 did not walk in the middle of the road, but in the 
 path, upon the bank, by the side of it, where Ma- 
 rielle had led her 
 
 She went along for some time, without meeting 
 with any adventure, until, at length, she came to 
 the beginning of the wall. She was very glad to 
 
74 
 
 see the wall ; for this proved that she was right, 
 and had not lost her way. After she had walked 
 on a little farther, she thought she heard a rustling 
 among the branches of the trees, over the wall 
 above her head ; and she accordingly looked up 
 
 " Lucy," said a gentle little voice above her 
 
 Lucy looked all around ; and presently she saw 
 a bright, happy-looking face, peeping between the 
 branches of some small trees, which were pushed 
 apart by a pair of little hands. 
 
 " Marielle, is that you ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Marielle, — for it was really she, 
 — "I climbed up here to watch for you." 
 
 " How did you get up ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " O, there are some steps," said Marielle. 
 
 " How can /get up ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " You can't get up from the outside," said Ma- 
 rielle, " but you must walk along to the door gate, 
 and come in there." 
 
 So Lucy walked along to the door gate ; but 
 just before she got to it, it opened, and Marielle 
 came out to meet her. 
 
 "O Lucy, we kave got a secret," said Ma- 
 rielle. 
 
 " What is it ? " said Lucy. 
 
 Just at this instant, two little boys came round 
 the corner of the house, and met Lucy and Ma- 
 
THE MOROCCO BOOK. 75 
 
 rielle, as they were walking along towards the 
 door which led to the school-room. 
 
 " We have put it in the gardener's room, 5 ' saia 
 one of them, — "the teacher said we might/' 
 The boy spoke in a very eager tone, but in a sort 
 of a loud whisper, as if he was very much inter- 
 ested in what he was saying, but also as if he 
 was afraid that somebody would hear. 
 
 " Hush ! " said the other boy, looking up. 
 "She will hear you." 
 
 "Who will hear?" said Lucy. Lucy looked 
 about from one to the other, very much perplexed 
 at all this mystery. 
 
 " Why, Maiy Jay," said one of the boys : 
 "the window is open, and she will hear." 
 
 '' What is the secret ? " said Lucy ; " do tell me." 
 But the children were all talking together so 
 eagerly, and each calling upon the other to hush, 
 that Lucy could not obtain any explanation from 
 any of them. They walked along to the door, 
 and went in ; but, instead of going up stairs, they 
 went to the door of a room below, which they 
 said was the gardener's room. Lucy followed 
 on as fast as she could She wanted to see the 
 secret very much 
 
 But she was disappointed ; for, just as they 
 were opening the door of the gardener's room 
 
T6 
 
 they neard a noise at the top of the staiis ; and 
 they immediately began to exclaim, all together, 
 u Hush ! hush ! Mary Jay is coming — she is 
 coming. Shut the door quick." And they 
 pulled the door to, as quick as possible, and 
 all ran away. 
 
 It turned out, however, to be a false alarm ; for 
 Mary Jay did not come. But, before they had 
 time to go back again to the door of the garden- 
 er's room, the bell rang, and they all had to go up 
 stairs to the school-room. 
 
 When Lucy went into the school-room, Mary 
 Jay was sitting at her seat, looking very innocent ; 
 and she seemed to be perfectly unconscious of all 
 the secrets and plots which were going on below. 
 Lucy was confirmed in her opinion that she was 
 not lame ; for, although she was still sitting in 
 her seat, yet Lucy was sure she did not look as 
 if she was lame. 
 
 However, the question was soon settled; for, 
 about the middle of the forenoon, the teacher 
 asked Mary Jay if she would be kind enough 
 to hear the third class read ; and Lucy immedi- 
 ately looked up to see what she woul 1 do. Two 
 or three children, that belonged to the third class, 
 be^an to £o out of the room, to a seat which was 
 placed in the entry, so that the reading might 
 
THE MOBOCCO BOOK. 77 
 
 not disturb the other scholars. Lucy saw them 
 going out, and then she looked back again to- 
 wards Mary Jay. To her great surprise, she saw 
 that she was just putting a crutch under her right 
 arm, as she was standing up by the side of her 
 desk. There was a little boy at her side, ready 
 to take hold of her left hand. She then walked 
 slowly across the floor, making no noise, but lean- 
 ing at every step upon her crutch, and scarcely 
 touching her right foot to the floor. Poor Mary 
 Jay was very lame indeed. 
 
 " Well," thought Lucy to herself, with a deep 
 sigh, as Mary Jay disappeared, and the door 
 closed, " at any rate, I shall never laugh at her." 
 
 At the recess that day, the children all gathered 
 around Mary Jay's desk, and said that she must 
 come down. She said that she must stay and do 
 her sums ; but the children said no, she must come 
 down. They had a very particular reason. Mary 
 Jay asked them what the reason was; but they 
 would not tell her, but only insisted that she must 
 come down. One of the girls got her crutch, and 
 handed it to her ; and at length she arose, put on 
 her bonnet, took her crutch, and walked along, 
 — some of the children going with her, and some 
 scampering on before, with every appearance of 
 exultation and delight. 
 7* 
 
78 
 
 Lucy followed on with the others ; and when 
 she got to the foot of the stairs, she saw two or 
 three of the children standing with their backs 
 against the door of the gardener's roan, as if to 
 prevent any body from going in. The children 
 that were walking with Mary Jay, led her by, 
 and out at the door. 
 
 " What are you going to do with me ? " said 
 she. 
 
 " O, you'll see," said Marielle ; " you must come 
 along out here." 
 
 They led Mary Jay round the corner of the 
 building, to a seat under a tree, close to the walk ; 
 and then they called aloud to those who had been 
 left at the door of the gardener's room to come. 
 Lucy wondered what they were going to bring. 
 She ran back round the corner to look. She 
 found that two or three boys, who belonged to 
 the school, were just bringing down, over the 
 steps, a little carriage. It had four good, strong 
 wheels, and a good seat above them, just big 
 enough for Mary Jay to sit in. For Lucy had 
 maue a great mistake in estimating her age at 
 forty. The truth was, that she was just sixteen. 
 
 They drew the chaise up before the seat where 
 Mary Jay was sitting, and told her that she must 
 get in 
 
THE MOROCCO BOOK. 79 
 
 " Q no," said Mary Jay, " J can't get in. It 
 is a beautiful little carriage, but it is not strong 
 enough to bear me." 
 
 " O yes, it will bear you," said a Doy named 
 George, who was considerably bigger than Lucy ; 
 "my father said it would bear any body that 
 could get into it. He got into it himself." 
 
 " Is it your carriage, George ? " said Mary Jay. 
 
 " Yes," said George ; " and I brought it for 
 you to ride in. We want to draw you down to 
 the summer-house." 
 
 " Well, I am sure I am very much obliged to 
 you," said Mary Jay ; " but I can't let you draw 
 me about. I can walk very well with my 
 crutch." 
 
 " No," said the children, " you must ride ; you 
 must get in and ride." 
 
 And so saying, they took hold of Mary Jay, as 
 if they were going to put her in by force ; one of 
 the children took hold of her crutch gently, and 
 said he was going to run away with it, and then 
 she would have to ride. 
 
 Mary Jay said, " No, you must not have my 
 crutch, for I want that to help me get in with." 
 Ana she rose from her seat, and seemed half 
 inclined to go, but yet not quite decided. 
 
80 lucy's stories. 
 
 " Are you sure it is strong enough, George ? " 
 said she. 
 
 '' O yes, ' said George, " it is on irons ; see," 
 added he, pointing to the irons which supported 
 the body of the chaise. 
 
 " Come, jump in, Mary Jay," said a pleasant 
 voice from above them. 
 
 The children looked up, and saw that it was 
 the teacher, who was looking out the window. 
 • c Come, jump in," said she ; " I want to see the 
 ride." 
 
 Being thus urged by the scholars, and en- 
 couraged by the teacher, Mary Jay cautiously 
 mounted the carriage, and took her seat. George 
 took hold of the pole ; for there was a pole to the 
 carriage, with a cross piece at the end of it, instead 
 of shafts. Chaises, and carriages which are in- 
 tended for one horse, have shafts ; while those 
 which are to be drawn by two or four, have a 
 pole ; and so one horse stands upon one side of 
 the pole, and the other upon the other sidn. 
 These two horses are called the pole horses. 
 Then, if there are any more horses required, 
 they are placed before the others, and are called 
 leaders. 
 
 It hac been agreed before, among the children, 
 that George, and another boy about as large as he, 
 
THE MOROCCO BOCK. 81 
 
 should be the pole horses, and two others, rather 
 smaller, should be the leaders. There were only 
 four boys belonging to the school. They thought 
 it was more suitable that the boys should be 
 the horses, to draw Mary Jay ; but then they 
 agreed that Marielle should take hold behind, anr* 
 push a little, which would make it easier to draw 
 Thus arranged, the carriage began to move on. 
 
 " Slowly, now/' said Mary Jay. " Gently, — 
 gently." 
 
 " Yes," said George, " we will go gently." 
 
 The boys walked along, taking a turn by a 
 circular walk which led around a pump that was 
 placed in a little alcove, for watering the garden. 
 They came gradually round to the head of a 
 broad walk, which extended off to a great dis- 
 tance among the trees. Here the horses began 
 to trot gently ; and Mary Jay, who now seemed 
 to feel more secure, and to perceive that the car- 
 riage was really a good, strong one, began to 
 chirup a little to her horses, to make them go 
 faster. 
 
 The horses were quite pleased with this, for 
 they were horses of spirit, and were impatient to 
 go faster ; so they began to trot along the hard, 
 smooth walk, with considerable speed. Marielle 
 pushed behind, and Jane and Lucy, and two o- 
 
82 LUCY 7 S STORIES. 
 
 three other small children, ran after the carriage, 
 doing all they could to keep up. Thus they 
 travelled about, as long as the recess lasted, all 
 over the garden ; for when Mary Jay was with 
 them, they had permission to go to any part of it 
 they pleased. 
 
 The recess was generally twenty minutes, — 
 because, as there was only one school every day, 
 it was about four hours and a half long ; and so 
 the teacher thought that they ought to have a 
 good long recess. 
 
 When the recess was ended, they drew Mary 
 Jay back to the school-room, and told her that 
 to-morrow they were going to have a story out of 
 the Morocco Book. 
 
 " The Morocco Book ? " said Lucy to Marielle ; 
 " what is the Morocco Book ? " 
 
 " To-morrow is not Wednesday, is it ? " said 
 George. 
 
 " Yes," said Marielle. 
 
 "Well," said Lucy, "what of it, if it is? 
 What happens Wednesday ? " 
 
 " Why, we have a drawing school," said Ma- 
 rielle, " in the afternoon. We all come to draw, 
 — only Mary Jay stays at noon. And then, 
 after the drawing, we always have an hour to play 
 in the garden." 
 
THE MOROCCO BOOK. 83 
 
 There was no more time for explanations ; for 
 now they reached the school-room, and Mary 
 Jay got out of the little carriage, and they all 
 went in. 
 
 At the close of the school, Lucy asked the 
 teacher if she might come to the drawing school, 
 the next day. The teacher said that she was 
 too young to draw much ; but that if she would 
 sit still, and draw upon the slate, and not disturb 
 the others, she might come. Lucy made abun- 
 dance of promises ; and when she went home 
 and told her mother, it was agreed that she 
 should go. 
 
 After the drawing school, the next day, the 
 children brought the chaise to the door, and took 
 Mary Ja} r in. She laid her crutch down by her 
 side ; and Lucy observed that she had a large 
 book, with morocco covers, in her lap. 
 
 " Is that the Morocco Book? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Marielle ; " it is full of stories and 
 pictures." 
 
 When they reached the lower part of the gar- 
 den, Mary Jay got out of the carriage, and the 
 whole party seated themselves on some little seats 
 in an arbor. When all were ready, Mary Jay 
 opened the Morocco Book, and read them the fol- 
 lowing story. 
 
M4 LUCf's STOBII8, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE STORY OF ROCKSY. 
 
 V I i M MART JAY'S MOROCCO BOOK. 
 
 Rocksy lived with her mother in a small house, 
 which was built in a lonely place upon the sea- 
 shore. She thought that the reason why her 
 name was Rocksy, was because she lived among 
 the rocks; but this was not the reason. Her 
 name was at first Roxanna, and they shortened 
 it to Rocksy. 
 
 Her father was a fisherman. He had a boat, 
 which he kept tied to a stake upon the beach, 
 when he was not out in it upon the water, fishing. 
 Rocksy used to get into this boat, and play go a- 
 fishing. It was tied to the stake, so that it could 
 not get away ; but she could push it a little from 
 one side to the other, when the tide was just high 
 enough to float it. When she could not play in 
 her father's boat, she used sometimes to play go 
 a-fishing in the house ; and then her fishing boat 
 was her little brother's cradle. 
 
"THE STORY OF ROCK ST. 85 
 
 For Rocksy had a little brother, ust big 
 enough to creep. She used to take care of him, 
 and rock him in his cradle. Sometimes she 
 would carry him down to the beach, when it was 
 sunny, and put him on the sand, and let him sit 
 there and see her throw pebbles into the water. 
 
 One day, Rocksy's father went a-fishing. It 
 was pleasant weather in the morning, when he 
 went ; but at noon it became cloudy, and in the 
 afternoon the wind began to blow, and it rained. 
 Rocksy was sorry for the storm, because she 
 wanted to go dowi to the beach that afternoon 
 Her mother was sony, because she was afraid tha 
 her husband would be cast away. 
 
 Rocksy asked her mother to let her play go a 
 fishing in the cradle. Her mother said yes ; and 
 so she put her little brother in at the head of the 
 cradle, while she sat at the foot of it, and began 
 to rock, and to play that she was sailing out to 
 sea. Sometimes she would make believe that 
 there was a great storm ; and then she would rock 
 the cradle violently, and give orders to her little 
 brother, whom she called her sailor. Then, at 
 length, the storm would subside, and she would 
 let the cradle be still ; and then she would lean 
 over the side of it, and pretend that she w? i 
 6shing. 
 
*6 
 
 She was playing so when it began to grow 
 dark. Her mother looked very anxious, and 
 went several times to look out at the window 
 
 "Now, Jack," said Rocksy, — for when -he 
 was playing that the baby was her sailor, she 
 always called him Jack, — " Now, Jack, 1 feel a 
 bite. Don't say a word, Jack, and I'll pull up a 
 salmon." 
 
 Now, the baby did not understand a single 
 word about " feeling a bite," or " pulling up a 
 salmon," but he liked to hear Rocksy talk ; and 
 so he sat still in the head of the cradle, and 
 listened with every appearance of satisfaction and 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Now, Jack, let out the rope a little. — Pay 
 away, Jack ; pay away." 
 
 Here Rocksy 's mother went and looked out 
 ihe window, and said, with a deep sigh, 
 
 " O dear me ! how it storms 1 " 
 
 " I've got another fish, Jack," continued Rock- 
 sy ; " here he comes ; it is a mackerel, — or elso 
 i perch. I don't know but that it is a perch." 
 
 Her mother came back to her work ; but pretty 
 oon she went to the window again. 
 
 " Now, Jack, there are no more fishes here." 
 laid Rocksy ; " we'll sail away to another place." 
 \nd so she began to rock the cradle, and 
 
THE STORY OF ROCKSY. S7 
 
 make believe sail away. She looked up, at the 
 same time, and saw her mother looking out the 
 window very earnestly, with her hands on each 
 side of her face, to shade her eyes from the light 
 of the fire, which was shining in the room. 
 
 " What are you looking at, mother ? " said 
 Rocksy. 
 
 " O, it's dreadfully dark ! " said her mother, 
 " Why don't he come ? " 
 
 She said this to herself; for she did not notice 
 that Rocksy had spoken to her. 
 
 Rocksy stopped the cradle a moment, and 
 looked at her mother. 
 
 " Mother," she said, " I don't think he will be 
 cast away ; he said he was not afraid of the 
 storms." 
 
 Her mother did not answer, but continued 
 gazing out of the window. The baby, finding 
 that the play was suspended, began to be un- 
 easy ; and so Rocksy said, 
 
 " Well, well, Jack, we'll sail along." 
 
 So she began to rock the cradle violently, pre- 
 tending that they were out in a terrible storm. 
 
 " O Jack," said she, " the winds and wavei 
 are terrible. It is a hurricane : we shall upset j 
 I verily believe we shall upset." 
 
 And, true enough, they did upset ; for Rocksy 
 
88 
 
 pushed the motion of the cradle so far as to lose 
 its balance ; and over it went forwards, pitching 
 both herself and her brother out upon the floor. 
 
 Rocksy was hurt, and the baby was frightened ; 
 so they both cried. Their mother came and 
 took them up, and soothed and quieted them. 
 Then she undressed the child, and put him in the 
 cradle to go to sleep, and stationed Rocksy by 
 his side, to rock him. 
 
 By and by, her mother had got the supper all 
 ready by the fire, and she said she was going to 
 put on her cloak, and go down to the shore, to see 
 if she could hear anything of her husband. 
 
 " I wish you would let me go with you, mother," 
 said Rocksy. 
 
 " O no," said her mother. " You must not 
 go. I want you to stay and rock the cradle till 
 I come back. I shall not be gone long." 
 
 But she was gone long, — very long. 
 
 Rocksy waited patiently at the cradle until 
 her little brother was asleep, and then she thought 
 it was not worth while to rock him any longer ; 
 but still, as her mother had told her to rock him 
 until she came back, she would not leave her 
 past. By and by, she began to be very sleepy 
 herself; and she said, " O, I do wish my mother 
 would come, — or else my father." But thev 
 
THE STORY OF ROCKSY. 89 
 
 did not either of them come for a long time. 
 The reason was this : 
 
 When Rocksy's mother went out, she found 
 that the wind and the rain were terrible. It was 
 pretty dark, too, but not so dark as it seemed to 
 be when she looked out at the window. It gen- 
 erally looks darker out of doors, when we look 
 out of the window in the evening, than it really 
 is. Rocksy's mother knew her way down to the 
 shore very well. There was a path ; and, besides, 
 she could hear the sea roaring, and she knew, by 
 that, which way to go. 
 
 When she got to the beach, she listened ; but 
 she could not hear anything but the noise of the 
 winds and the waves. She then thought she 
 would go down on the Point. The Point was a 
 ledge of rocks which extended out into the sea, 
 and sheltered the water which was near the 
 beach. There were rocks and breakers out at 
 the end of it. She was afraid that her husband's 
 boat was dashed upon the rocks and breakers. 
 There was a path which led down to the Point. 
 It was a pretty long walk ; but she went on per- 
 se veringly until she got to the extremity of it. 
 The winds roared, and the waves dashed against 
 the rocks dreadfully. She listened, but she could 
 not hear anything of her husband. She wished 
 8* 
 
90 
 
 that she had a match and some wood, to build a 
 great fire on the rocks, so that her husband 
 might see it, and thus find his way in from 
 the sea. 
 
 Presently she thought she must go back and 
 take care of her children. So she turned around 
 towards the shore, and walked along the path 
 She walked on until she came to a low place, 
 where the path went across a narrow neck of 
 land. She found that the water had risen and 
 overflowed this place. The storm had made the 
 water rise very high. She had never known the 
 path to be overflowed by the water before. She 
 was very much frightened. She could not get 
 back to her children, and she did not know what 
 she should do. 
 
 She had to stay here many hours. She got 
 into a sheltered place among the rocks, where 
 she was not much exposed to the wind and rain. 
 Here she waited for the water to go down ; but 
 it only rose higher and higher. 
 
 She thought the storm was abating ; but it 
 was not abating. The reason why she thought 
 t was abating was, that she was upon the shel 
 tered side of the Point, and under the shelter of 
 the rocks, besides. The water was pretty smooth 
 near her ; but around upon the other side of th« 
 
THE STORY OF ROCKSY. 91 
 
 Point, it roared and dashed upon the rocks ter- 
 rifically. So the storm continued, and the tide 
 was rising ; and both together kept the water so 
 high, that Rocksy's mother could not get home. 
 
 By and by, about midnight, she thougnt she 
 heard a rattling noise. It sounded like the rat 
 tling of a rope. Then she thought she heard the 
 sound of oars. She started up. She thought 
 that perhaps it was her husband coming home. 
 She called aloud to him. He answered. Then 
 she knew it was her husband. He had just suc- 
 ceeded in getting in to the land. He was very 
 much surprised to find her there. She told him 
 that she had come down to the rocks to look for 
 him, and now she could not get back, because 
 the water was so high. So he brought his boat 
 up to the rocks where she was standing, and took 
 her in. Then he earned her safe to the landing- 
 place, and they both got out and went up to the 
 house, almost exhausted, and wet with the rain. 
 
 They found both the children asleep. The 
 baby was in his cradle, where they had left him ; 
 and Rocksy had sunk down upon the floor, with 
 her head upon a little cricket, and one hand still 
 upon the cradle. She had rocked her brother as 
 long as she could possibly keep awake ; and even 
 
92 lucy's stories. 
 
 when she went to sleep, she did not lake away 
 tier hand. 
 
 " Is that the end ? " said severa voices at once, 
 when Mary Jay stopped reading. 
 
 " Yes," said Mary Jay, " that is the end." 
 
 " Is there any picture? " asked Jane. 
 
 " Yes," answered Mary Jay, " two." 
 
 The children all gathered up around Mary Jay 
 to see. She spread open the great book in her 
 lap, and showed them the pictures. The first 
 was a picture of the shore, with the fisherman's 
 house upon it, and the boats fastened in their 
 places. Rocksy and the baby, were playing 
 upon the beach. 
 
 Lucy had supposed that the book was a printed 
 nook, while Mary Jay was reading ; but while 
 she was looking at the picture, she found that it 
 was written with a pen. The picture, too, was 
 not a printed picture ; it was painted, — in beauti- 
 ful colors. 
 
 After the children had looked at this picture 
 long enough, Mary Jay turned over the leaf, and 
 showed them another. It was a view of the in- 
 tenor of the fisherman's cottage at night. It 
 looked dark, only there was a little blaze of fire 
 
THE ST0R1 OF ROCKSY. 
 
 ,*3 
 
 upon the hearth, which flashed about the room. 
 Rocksy was asleep, with her head upon the crick- 
 et and her hand upon the cradle 
 
 The children looked on a moment in silence j 
 and at length Mary Jay said, 
 
 "Was not she a good, faithful, trustworthy 
 
 gin?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said all the children. 
 
94 luct's stories. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ROYAL'S STORY. 
 
 One day, when Lucy was about five years old, 
 she was sick. She was not very sick, — only a 
 little sick, just so that they could not let her go 
 out of doors. 
 
 Lucy looked out of the window for some time, 
 to see them get in the large yellow pumpkins 
 from the garden. Then she played with her 
 picture-books a little while. After that, she did 
 not know what to do. She came and stood by 
 her mother, who was sewing. 
 
 And she said, " Mother, I wish I knew what 
 to do." 
 
 And her mother said, " I think you had better 
 lie down upon the sofa a little while, and go to 
 sleep." But Lucy said, " O mother, I am not 
 sleepy ; I am only tired of not having anything 
 to do." 
 
 Then her mother told her that, if she were to 
 Lie down upon the sofa, she would probably go to 
 
HOY At/ S STORY. 96 
 
 sleep after a little while, and then, when she 
 waked up afterwards, she would feel better. 
 
 So her mother went and brought a pillow, and 
 put it upon the sofa, and laid Lucy down, with 
 her head upon the pillow. 
 
 Then her mother said that she would come and 
 sit near her while she went to sleep ; and she 
 brought her chair up near to the sofa, and put her 
 work-basket upon the sofa, next to Lucy's feet. 
 Then she told Lucy to shut her eyes and lie still, 
 and that she would probably soon go to sleep. 
 
 So Lucy shut her eyes ; but she could not 
 keep them shut very still. Her eyelids quivered 
 a little, because she was not sleepy. It was hard 
 for her to keep them shut. Presently she opened 
 her eyes a little, just to see whether her mother 
 had gone away. But her mother was sitting still 
 close by her side. 
 
 A few minutes after this, she opened hei eyes 
 wide, and wanted her mother to tell her a story, 
 while she was going to sleep ; but her mother said 
 no. She wanted her to lie perfectly still, and go 
 to sleep in silence. 
 
 Presently Lucy said, " Mother, I can keep my 
 eyes shut prstty well now." Her mother did not 
 answer, b'U she looked at Lucy's eyes, and ob- 
 served that the quivering of the eyelids had ceased 
 
96 lucy's stories. 
 
 Lucy began to like to lie still upon the sofa. She 
 felt that she was resting beautifully. A very 
 pleasant feeling of forgetfulness seemed to c«me 
 over her. Instead of wishing to get up, she 
 began to wish not to be disturbed ; her mind 
 wandered ; her thoughts seemed to float away ; 
 and she gradually sank into forgetfulness and 
 slumber. 
 
 She did not awake until more than an hour 
 afterwards. But she did not know that any time 
 had passed ; for when children are asleep, they 
 are not often conscious of the lapse of time. 
 When Lucy opened her eyes, she saw her mother 
 sitting before the sofa, sewing, just as she had 
 been when she lay down ; and just beyond was 
 Lucy's little table, with a large, shallow tin pan 
 on it. Lucy wondered what it could be. 
 
 She asked her mother what was in that tin pan. 
 Her mother told her it was soap and water. 
 
 " And what is it for ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " It is for you to blow bubbles with, if you 
 would like it," said her mother. 
 
 " Well," said Lucy ; and she began to get up, 
 very much pleased. Then she asked her mother 
 how the pan and the table came to be there. 
 
 "I brought it here while you were asleep," 
 said her mother. 
 
royal's story. 97 
 
 :: Why, mother ! " said Lucy ; " have I been 
 asleep ? " 
 
 Her mother told her that she had been asleep 
 more than an hour. 
 
 Lucy was much surprised to hear this ; and she 
 got up immediately to blow her bubbles. She 
 found a pipe in the pan, the handle resting upon 
 the side. 
 
 Lucy enjoyed herself very much blowing the 
 bubbles. Her mother showed her how to shake 
 them off from the pipe, so as to let them sail 
 through the air. After a little practice, Lucy 
 succeeded very well in liberating them from theii 
 attachment to the pipe. When they fell upon 
 the carpet, Lucy would blow them along with hei 
 breath ; and, after she got tired of blowing in that 
 way, she asked her mother to let her have the 
 bellows to blow them with. This plan succeeded 
 finely. She could diow them along very easily 
 with the bellows. Sometimes she would get three 
 or four bubbles at a time upon the carpet, and 
 then, by giving them a good puff with the bel- 
 lows, she would make them roll off together in 
 al. directions. 
 
 Just at this time, Lucy's brother Royal came 
 in. Royal was a pretty good boy, only he was 
 9 
 
98 LUCY'S STORIES. 
 
 sometimes a litlle rough with his sister. This is 
 a very common fault among boys. 
 
 " Ah, Lucy," said he, as soon as he came 
 in, " what have you got now ? Let me have the 
 pipe ; I'll show you how to blow." 
 
 Lucy was just dipping her pipe into the pan, 
 to blow a new bubble ; but she said no, she wanted 
 to blow, herself. 
 
 Royal came up, and took hold of the pipe, as 
 if he was going to take it out of her hands, and 
 said, 
 
 " Just a minute, Lucy. Let me have it a 
 minute, and I'll blow you a bubble as big as your 
 head." 
 
 " No," said Lucy, clinging to the pipe. 
 
 " And all full of rainbows," persisted Royal. 
 
 " No," said Lucy ; " I want it myself." 
 
 Royal did not consider that Lucy's enjoyment 
 did not consist in the mere size and colors of the 
 bubbles, but in the pleasure of blowing them 
 herself. 
 
 Just at this *ime, Lucy's mother turned arouuc, 
 and said, 
 
 " Royal, you must not disturb Lucy." 
 
 " Why, mother," said Royal, " I only want to 
 Dlow her a golden ball." 
 
ROYAI/S STORY. 101 
 
 Royal used to call the bubbles which were so 
 .arge as to show a great variety of splendid col- 
 ors, golden balls. 
 
 " No," said his mother ; " I got those things 
 for Lucy's amusement, and you must let her do 
 wttA them just what she pleases." 
 
 So Royal let go of the pipe, and Lucy went 
 on blowing. 
 
 " I'll show you how I blow it along the car- 
 pet; * said Lucy, when she stopped a moment, to 
 take breath. 
 
 " Let me blow it," said Royal. 
 
 But Lucy wanted to blow it herself. So she 
 snook off the bubble, and when it had fallen to 
 tne floor, she took up the bellows, and gave it a 
 little puff, which set it a rolling along towards 
 itoyal. It struck his foot, and then broke and 
 disappeared, at which both Royal and Lucy 
 laughed aloud, with great appearance of delight. 
 
 At length, Lucy let Royal take the bellows, 
 while she kept the pipe ; and so he would blow 
 the bubbles along the carpet, as fast as Lucy 
 dropped them down. By-and-by, he contrived 
 to blow the bubbles before they touched the floor ; 
 and at last he had a way of holding the bellows 
 under them, and blowing them up into the air. 
 When they found thev could succeed in ma- 
 
1 02 1.UCY S STORIES. 
 
 king the bubbles go up, they kept conti&uaUy 
 calling upon their mother to look. It was, " O 
 see, mother, see ! " and " Look ! look quicK ! 
 mother, look ! " very frequently indeed. 
 
 " Yes, 1 see," said their mother. " Thev go 
 beautifully, only I should think you would be 
 very tired of holding the bellows in such a posi- 
 tion." 
 
 " I am, mother, — they are such heavy bel- 
 lows. I should think the bubbles might go up of 
 themselves." 
 
 " If you could find a place where there is a 
 natural current of air upwards, and could shake 
 off your bubbles there, they would go up of them- 
 selves." 
 
 Here Royal put down his bellows, and came 
 to his mother, and said, 
 
 " Well, mother, where is there any such a 
 place?" 
 
 " I know of one place ; but you can't get at it, 
 very well." 
 
 "Where, mother? I guess I can get at it," 
 said Royal. 
 
 " Just over the top of the chimney, upon the 
 house," his mother answered. " The hot air, 
 which comes up from the fire, goes out there, and 
 rises quite high." 
 
103 
 
 " Well, mother," said Royal, very eagerly, " I 
 *an get up, I know." 
 
 " O no," said his mother. 
 
 " Yes, mother, — I can get a ladder. I know 
 where there is a ladder, just right." 
 
 " O no," said his mother ; " it would be pre- 
 posterous. Besides, there is no fire in die fire 
 place now." 
 
 " There is in the kitchen, mother," said Royal. 
 
 " Yes, and then, — now I think of it, — I be 
 Iieve the air always draws up through a chimney, 
 whether there is a fire in it or not. You may 
 take away the fire-board, and shake off your bub 
 bles in the chimney, and see if they will go up." 
 
 The children immediately made preparations 
 for trying this experiment ; and they found, after 
 one or two unsuccessful attempts, that they could 
 make very light and thin bubbles rise and disap- 
 pear up the chimney. Lucy blew the bubbles, 
 as the pipe was hers. Royal stood by, restless 
 and uneasy > wishing continually that he had an 
 other pipe. 
 
 " You had a pipe once," said Lucy. 
 
 " I know it ; but I broke it," said Royal. " My 
 pipes always break." 
 
 " Well, I am afraid you will break mine," said 
 Lucy, " if I let you have it " 
 
104 lucy's stories. 
 
 " No," said Royal, " I will be very careful in- 
 deed. Just let me have it to blow one, — only 
 one. I want to blow one monster, — so big that 
 lie can't get up chimney. Just let me have it to 
 blow one, and then I will give it right back to 
 you again." 
 
 Lucy gave him the pipe, reluctantly, and he 
 began to blow. The bubble broke when it was 
 about as big as an orange. 
 
 " There," said Lucy, " now let me have it." 
 
 " No," said Royal ; " that was a miss." 
 
 " But you said one." 
 
 " Only one big one. I want to blow a good 
 big one." 
 
 So he began to blow again. This time the 
 bubble broke when it was still smaller ; and just 
 as Lucy began to say that now Royal must give 
 her back her pipe, he said suddenly, 
 
 " O Lucy, I think of a most capital place to 
 make the bubbles go up — capital." 
 
 " Where ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Over the register, in the parlor." 
 
 What Royal meant by the register was this. 
 There was a furnace, or stove set within brick 
 walls, in the cellar of the house, for heating the 
 air to warm the house. The smoke and sparks 
 all went off by a stove pipe ; but the hot air from 
 
royal's story. 105 
 
 around the outside of the stove came up through 
 a round hole in the parlor floor. Over this hole 
 was a brass apparatus, by means of which it 
 could be shut or opened at pleasure. This brass 
 contrivance was called the register. 
 
 Now, in the winter season, when there was a 
 fire in the furnace below, and the register was 
 open, the hot air always came up in a strong cur 
 rent, which puffed in the children's faces, when 
 they held them over the opening. 
 
 So Royal thought that this would be a fine 
 place to make the bubbles go up ; and instead of 
 giving Lucy back the pipe, he began to run off 
 to the parlor, calling and beckoning to Lucy to 
 follow him. 
 
 It was as Royal expected. The register was 
 a very fine place for experiments with bubbles. 
 The draft of air made the bubbles ascend rapidly, 
 and one went up quite to the wall, where it 
 struck, and then burst in an instant. 
 
 " Now, Royal," said Lucy, " let me have my 
 pipe. I want to blow some." 
 
 fc Well," said Royal, — "only first let me 
 blow one more. And, first, I'll take out the 
 register, so as to let the air come up faster." 
 
 Now, the register was made so as to take out 
 and put in easily ; and when it was out, it left 
 
106 
 
 the hole entirely open. The hole was prettj 
 large, and it was round. 
 
 Royal blew another bubble ; and when he sei 
 it free from the pipe, it rose veiy handsomely. 
 " See, Lucy, see ! " said he ; " it goes up just like 
 a balloon. I wish we had a car to it." 
 
 " Well, now, let me have my pipe," said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Royal, " in one minute. I don't 
 believe but that a bubble will carry up the pipe 
 itself, for a car." 
 
 " No," said Lucy, taking hold of the pipe. 
 
 " Yes," said Royal, still holding on to it, " it 
 will, if I blow a monstrous big one. It must be 
 a monstrous big one, I acknowledge, Lucy. Just 
 let me blow one monster, and then, £ it does not 
 carry the pipe up hanging at the bottom of it, I'll 
 give you my little finger." 
 
 " I don't want your little finger," said Lucy. 
 " I want my pipe." 
 
 Royal had, however, by this time begun to blow 
 his monster, and Lucy, who felt some curiosity to 
 =?ee whether the bubble would really carry up the 
 pipe, and who, besides, being a gentle and peaceable 
 little girl, was disposed rather to submit to Royal's 
 injustice than to be very strenuous in resisting it, 
 sat quietly by, watching the great bubble as it 
 
royal's sTO**r. 107 
 
 gradually expanded under the bowl of tne pipe 
 and as the colors glittered and waved all over its 
 surface. At length she said, 
 
 " There, now, quick, Royal ; it is just going 
 to burst." 
 
 Royal at once very gently, but very quickly, 
 withdrew the pipe from his mouth, and let go of 
 it. At the same instant, the bubble burst, and 
 the pipe disappeared. It had gone down the 
 register ! 
 
 " There, now ! " said Lucy, in a tone of great 
 grief and disappointment ; " now you have lost my 
 pipe." 
 
 Royal looked down the register ; but it was a 
 dark hole, and nothing was to be seen. 
 
 <% How unlucky it was," said he, " that the 
 bubble burst just at that moment! I do verily 
 believe it would have carried the pipe up, Lucy, 
 if it had not broke." 
 
 Lucy did not answer. The tears were fast 
 coming into her eyes. 
 
 " Don't cry, Lucy," said Royal ; " you'll get 
 another pipe some of these days." 
 
 But the prospect of getting another pipe, some 
 of these days, did not seem to be sufficient con- 
 solation*, for Lucy turned away overwhelmed 
 
108 
 
 with sorrow, and was going into the other room 
 to her mother. 
 
 Royal jumped up, and followed her, and put 
 Lis arm round her neck, and begged her not to 
 cry. " Come," said he, " come with me to the 
 sofa, and I'll tell you a story. I'll tell you a 
 beautiful story about some enormous great bub- 
 bles, that a boy blew once with a blacksmith's 
 bellows." 
 
 Lucy's curiosity was somewhat excited by this, 
 and she suffered herself to be led, reluctantly, to 
 he sofa, where Royal drew her up near to him, 
 and commenced his story thus : — 
 
 " Once there was a boy blowing bubbles out 
 in the yard. When he got tired, he lay down on 
 the grass, under a tree, and got asleep. While he 
 was asleep, he dreamed ; and he dreamed about 
 blowing bubbles. He dreamed that he had a 
 little pond full of soap-suds, and that he had a 
 pipe with a bowl as big as a barrel, and a black- 
 smith's bellows to blow with. 
 
 " The first bubble he blew was as big as a hogs- 
 nead, and the second was as big as this room." 
 
 " O Royal," said Lucy, " I don't believe it." 
 
 " Why, I didn't tell you it was true, Lucy ; it 
 was only a dream." 
 
 r O ves." said Lucy. 
 
royal's story, 109 
 
 " The great bubble, as big as this room," con- 
 tinued Royal, "had a splendid great rainbow 
 round the middle of it, — a hundred colors, — al 
 different. 
 
 " And there was a drop hanging at the bottom 
 of the bubble, which was big enough for the boy 
 to get into. So he said that he would have the 
 bubble for the balloon, and the drop for his car, 
 and he got into the car, and sailed away up into 
 the air." 
 
 " O Royal ! " said Lucy, " what a story ! " 
 
 " He went up," continued Royal, " to a great 
 height ; and there an eagle came flying along, and 
 happened just to touch the bubble with the tip of 
 his wing, and burst it, and the poor boy began to 
 fall. He was terribly frightened. He thought 
 that he should certainly be killed. But while he 
 was falling, he woke up, and found himself safe 
 under the tree." 
 
 Here Royal paused, and Lucy was silent a 
 moment, when at length she said, 
 
 " And did any boy really dream such a dieam 
 as that ? " 
 
 " No," said Royal, — " it was only a stoiy I 
 made up, just to amuse you." 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Lucy. " I thought at 'east 
 10 
 
110 lucy's stories. 
 
 he really dreamed. But now how shall I get mj 
 pipe?" 
 
 " Why, as to your pipe, Lucy," said Royal, (( J 
 am sorry for it, truly, — but, you see, you hurried 
 me, — that was the cause. You told me it was 
 just going to burst, and so 1 let it go too quick, 
 and made it burst. I am convinced that the 
 bubble was big enough to have carried the pipe 
 up ; and then just think," added Royal, with a 
 smile, " how beautiful it would have looked soar- 
 ing around the room, and, at last, when the bubble 
 tvent out, dropping on the sofa." 
 
 " It would not have dropped on the sofa," said 
 Lucy, looking quite serious still. In fact, all 
 Royal's attempts to amuse her mind, and make 
 her forget her pipe, seemed to have only a tempo- 
 rary effect ; and at last they both went out into 
 the other room to state the case to their mother. 
 Miss Anne was sitting there, and she heard the 
 story too. 
 
 Lucy's mother listened attentively to all the 
 particulars of the case, before expressing any 
 opinion. She heard all that Lucy had to say, 
 and all that Royal had to say ; and at last Royal 
 concluded by asking, whether, on the whole, she 
 »lid not consider Lucy as much to blame as 
 
in 
 
 he was for dropping the pipe down in the 
 register. 
 
 " Why, we must distinguish," said their mother, 
 " between the different parts of the transaction. 
 There is your refusal to give back Lucy her pipe, 
 your taking out the register without leave, and 
 your dropping the pipe. I don't see that either 
 of you was to blame in regard to the dropping 
 of the pipe." 
 
 " Neither of us ? " 
 
 " No ; it was an accident, — a mere accident. 
 Your letting go of such a heavy thing over a 
 deep hole, with nothing to hold it up but a bub- 
 ble, may show your ignorance of philosophy, — 
 but there was no evil intention in your mind, at 
 that moment, I suppose, and therefore nothing 
 like guilt in it. 
 
 " But, then, as to your taking out the register 
 without leave, that was not right. It was what 
 we call a misdemeanor You knew that I do 
 not like to have the register taken out, on account 
 of the danger that things may fall down into the 
 flue. This was an irregularity, — an act contrary 
 to good order, — a misdemeanor. But then the 
 misdemeanor was fully committed when you got 
 the register fairly out. It was not altered by 
 anything that took place afterwards. It was noi 
 
112 
 
 LUCY'S STORIES. 
 
 made any more a misdemeanor, by your dropping 
 the pipe into the hole ; nor would it have been 
 any less a misdemeanor, if you had not dropped 
 anything, but had put the register safely back 
 again, after you had done playing. 
 
 " Then, finally," continued Royal's mother, 
 '* your refusal to give Lucy back her pipe readily 
 when she wanted it, was worse than a misde 
 meanor. It was morally wrong. It was unjust. 
 We ought not to keep rightful owners out of pos- 
 session of their property, just because we are the 
 strongest, and have the power. In important 
 cases among men, this is called oppression and 
 robbery ; but the principle is the same, and the 
 nature of the moral guilt is the same in so small 
 a case as this, — merely keeping a pipe a few 
 minutes away from the child that it belongs to." 
 
 " Yes, mother," said Royal. " I read in a 
 book once, that it was as bad to steal a pin, as it 
 was to steal a thousand dollars." 
 
 " I have heard such things said," his mother 
 answered, " but I think it is a mistake. The 
 guilt is the same in nature, but less in degree 
 It shows a greater degree of hardihood and de- 
 pravity, generally, to commit a great robbery, 
 than it does to commit a small one. In fact, 
 criminals go on, in proportion as they grow 
 
113 
 
 more and more wicked, from small to large 
 crimes." 
 
 " I think so too, mother/' said Royal. 
 
 " So, you see, your keeping Lucy out of pos- 
 session of her pipe, was morally wrong; the 
 opening of the register was a misdemeanor; 
 and the dropping down the pipe, was only an 
 accident, and of no moral quality whatever. 
 
 "But, then," she continued, "you must ob- 
 serve that, although it was an accident, still it 
 >vas your accident, and not Lucy's ; and of course 
 you ought to bear the loss. 
 
 " How, mother ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Why, by buying Lucy another pipe with 
 your money." 
 
 " What, when it was only an accident, and 1 
 was not to blame 1 " 
 
 " Certainly ; we often meet with losses from 
 accidents. And every one must bear their own. 
 Once I went a shopping, and took you with me 
 when you were a very small boy ; and when we 
 were in a crockery store, and I was busy looking 
 a»t some tumblers, you got my parasol, arid hooked 
 the little crook at the end of it into the handle 
 of a pitcher upon the counter, and pulled it 
 down." 
 
 Royal laughed aloud at this anecdote of ono 
 
114 
 
 LUCY S STORIED. 
 
 of his earlier years. Even Lucy seemed a little 
 amused 
 
 " Did it break, mother ? " he asked. 
 
 " O yes, all to pieces," said she. " Now 
 there was an accident ; nobody was to blame ; 
 but then " 
 
 u Why, I should think that J was to blame," 
 ?a\d Royal. 
 
 " No, you did not know that it would break." 
 
 " Why, how big was I ? " 
 
 " O, only just big enough to run about." 
 
 Here Royal laughed again, loud and long, — 
 too much delighted with the stoiy itself to listen 
 to the application which his mother intended to 
 make of it to the present argument. However, 
 when his glee had in some measure subsided, his 
 mother added, 
 
 •' Now, that was an accident ; bwt then it was 
 ny accident, not the shopman's ; and so I imme- 
 liately paid for the pitcher." 
 
 " Well, mother," said Royal, " I'll buy Lucy 
 another pipe. I've got some money in my box up 
 stairs. I'll take a cent, and go and buy you ore 
 this afternoon, Lucy. Two ; I'll buy yc*i two 
 I can get two for a cent, — beautiful ones, with 
 twisted stems." 
 
 Lucy wiped away the remains of her tears 
 
royal's story. I 15 
 
 and began to look quite pleased at this prospect 
 Then in a minute she began to advance towards 
 Royal, playfully, and said, 
 
 " Well, there's one thing I know, — I've go* 
 your little finger." 
 
 " My little finger ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Yes," answered Lucy ; " you said that if the 
 pipe did not go up, you'd give me your little 
 finger." 
 
 "O dear me," said Royal, pretending to be 
 much concerned at the loss of his little finger. 
 "What shall I do?" 
 
 "Yes, it is mine," said she; "give it to me. 
 I'm going to carry it off. I have a right to do 
 what I've a mind to with it. I mean to pinch it, 
 and tie a string round it, as tight as 1 can." 
 
 So Lucy took hold of his little finger, and 
 dragged him off by it into the parlor, to find a 
 string, Royal all the time pretending to hang 
 back, and saying, " O ! O ! " in a comical tone, 
 and Lucy laughing with all her heart. 
 
 When they were gone, Miss Anne said, 
 
 " I rather think that when Royal was little, \\p 
 was pretty much such a boy as he is now." 
 
 " Yes," said his mother, " pretty much tht> 
 
116 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MOROCCO BOOK AGAIN 
 
 Lucr learned a good deal more about the Mo- 
 rocco Book the next day after Mary Jay had read 
 the story of Rocksy out of it. The children told 
 her that some time before, when she first came to 
 the school, she used to write stories for them in 
 little books, and upon sheets of paper, until, at 
 last, one day the teacher made her a present of 
 the great Morocco Book, to copy her stories into. 
 
 " Then what did she do with the little books ? " 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " O, she gave some of them to us," said Man- 
 elle ; " she gave me one about Alice." 
 
 " I wish you would read it to me some day," 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " Well," said Marielle, " I will, — in some 
 recess." 
 
 Marielle did, some days after this, read her the 
 story of Alice, — as will be more particularly 
 described in the latter pnrt of this volume. Be- 
 fore that time, however, Mary Jay read to the 
 
THE MOROCCO BOOK AGAIN. 117 
 
 girls, at different times, several stories from the 
 Morocco Book ; the first of which was called th« 
 Stormy Evening, and was as follows: — 
 
 THE STORMY EVENING. 
 
 FROM THE MOROCCO BOOK. 
 
 One stormy evening, little Jane came up to hbi 
 grandmother, who was sitting in a great arm-chair 
 in the corner, and kneeled down upon her cricket, 
 and rested her arms in her lap. Her grandmothei 
 was knitting. She looked down upon Jane, and 
 
 " Well, Jenny, have you come to bid me good 
 night ? " 
 
 " O no, grandmother," said Jane ; " it is not 
 time for me to go to bed yet. I have come for 
 you to tell me a story." 
 
 " A story ! " said her grandmother, — " O, 1 
 lave forgotten all my stories." 
 
 " Well, tell me something," said Jane. 
 
 "Let me see, — I will tell you about this 
 stormy evening. Do you know what makes this 
 storm ? " 
 
 " No," said Jane. 
 
 " Whv, there is a great ocean of air, above 
 
118 
 
 us and around us, which is all moving swiftly 
 along, sweeping over the forests, and valley Sj 
 and tops of the mountains. It comes from the 
 cold north, and the moisture which is in it is 
 chilled, and is turned into snow, and falls con- 
 tinually down to the ground. The wind roars 
 through the forests, and whistles around the 
 houses, and drives the snow, with a click, click, 
 against the windows. And yet here, in our warm 
 house, and by our comfortable fire, we are sheltered 
 and protected from it completely." 
 
 " What does that mean ? " said Jane. 
 
 " Why, we are covered from it, so that the wind 
 does not blow upon us." 
 
 " O yes," said Jane ; " well ; go on." 
 
 " Puss is asleep," continued her grandmother, 
 " before the fire, with her chin upon her paws for 
 a pillow. You have been reading your book by 
 the table, and 1 am here knitting, at my ease ; 
 and the vast torrents of wind and driving snow 
 sweep by us without doing us any harm at all. 
 This is one stormy evening scene; out there 
 are a great many others very different from this, 
 en different parts of the world." 
 
 " What are they, grandmotht r ? " asked Jane. 
 
 " Why, there is a different scene at the lonely 
 farmer's cabin in the woods. The fanner lights 
 
ftlE MOROCCO BOOK AGAIN. 119 
 
 hrs lantern, and goes out to his barn, to feed his 
 horses and his oxen. His little son goes with 
 mm. and holds the lantern for him, standing upon 
 the ladder, while his father pitches down the 
 hay. They then go back into the house, wading 
 through the snow ; the little children are lying 
 upon the floor asleep, with their feet towards the 
 fire ; and the snow, which drives through the crev- 
 ices in the walls, and around the windows and 
 uoor, forms little drifts upon the floor. But in 
 the mean time a blazing fire glows and crackles 
 in the great stone fireplace, and the family are 
 contented and happy. 
 
 " The stonuy evening presents another scene 
 at sea. The ship heaves and tosses over the 
 great waves. The sky is dark, — the wind howls 
 tnrough the icy rigging. A few men walk about 
 the deck, or lean over the bulwarks, cold, and wet, 
 and tired, and one stands at the helm, watching 
 the compass, which is lighted by a little lamp in a 
 box before him, and which tells him which way 
 to steer. They are all waiting for midnight, 
 when they hope the storm will lull." 
 
 " What do you mean by lull ? " asked Jane. 
 
 " Why, that the w'nd will not blow so hard," 
 laid her grandmother. 
 
 " The stormy evening presents another scene n 
 
120 LtJCY's STORES. 
 
 she continued, " in the lonely places among the 
 mountains. There it is all silence and solitude. 
 Not a living thing is to be seen. The birds have 
 "flown away, — the squirrel is in his deep hole, 
 under the ground; the leaves have fallen from 
 the trees, and the wind moans gloomily through 
 the desolate branches ; — but there is no ear to 
 hear it, and no eye to see the vast piles of snow 
 which gather under the craggy rocks, and bury 
 the trunks of the old, fallen trees. 
 
 "There is another scene presented by the 
 stormy evening, when a traveller is out alone 
 upon a solitary road, and finds it difficult to make 
 out his way through the trackless and unbroken 
 snow. The fine flakes drive into his face, and 
 the keen wind makes his ears tingle. His horse 
 sometimes rears and plunges, when he gets deep 
 into the drifts, and then, a moment afterwards, at 
 the summit of a little hill, he drags the grating 
 irons of the sleigh runners over the bare and 
 frozen ground. The weary traveller strains his 
 eyes to catch a glimmer of light from some house 
 by the way-side, where he at least may ask how 
 much farther it is to the end of his journey.' , 
 
 " Yes," said Jane, " and he might ask them to 
 let him stay all night, and then go home the next 
 morning." 
 
THE MOROCCO BOOK AGAIN. 121 
 
 " So he could," said her grandmother. 
 
 " The stormy evening," she continued, " pre- 
 sents another scene in the great city. The 
 coachmen, wrapped in rough great-coats, drive, 
 tnrough the loose snow, up to the doors of the 
 great houses, to take the ladies to their visits. 
 .The shopkeepers' boys shovel and brush the 
 snow, that has already fallen, off the side-walks, 
 by the bright gas light which streams through the 
 great panes of the shop windows ; and then they 
 put up the shutters and go in. The merchant, 
 who has just finished reading the news which 
 came in by the evening mail, buttons up his 
 wrapper, and goes towards his home ; and, as he 
 turns the corner of the street, and the wild blast 
 of the storm strikes him in all its fury, he hopes 
 that his ship is well off the coast. The school- 
 boy drags his sled, half buried in the snow, to the 
 door in the brick wall which leads to the court- 
 yard of his father's house, and, entering, disap- 
 pears ; while, at the same instant, the lamp-lighter 
 is just climbing up his little ladder to the top 
 of the lamp-post outside, and lights the lamp with 
 his blazing torch, which flashes upon the fresh 
 snow, and upon the sides of the lofty buildings." 
 
 Here Jane's grandmother stopped. 
 
 " Is that all, grandmother ? " said Jane. 
 11 
 
122 
 
 "Why, that is all I think of now. Though 
 there is one more scene that I can imagine. \ 
 can imagine that little Jane takes her lamp, bids 
 her father and mother good night, and goes to hei 
 trundle-bed. She draws the comforter up to hei 
 chin, and, after praying to Almighty God to take 
 care of her, she falls asleep, and dreams of sli- 
 dings and sleigh-rides all night, while the wind 
 blows as it will." 
 
 Here Jane's grandmother paused again. 
 
 " Tell me a little more," said Jane. 
 
 " No," said her grandmother, " no more ; but 
 now let me hear how well you remember what I 
 have told you. Tell me all about it." 
 
 " Well, grandmamma," said Jane, " if you will 
 take me up in your lap." 
 
 So Jane's grandmother took her up in her lap 
 and Jane began as follows : '■ — 
 
 " Once there was a man, — travelling, — no 
 let's see; how does it begin, grandmother?" 
 
 " O, go on ; you are beginning very well." 
 
 " Well, — he rode over a little hill, and saw 
 a house, — and " 
 
 Here Jane began to be very restless, and to move 
 is if she was trying to get down ; and she said, 
 
 " O dear me ! I am so tired of telling ! " 
 
 Here Jane's grandmother began to laugh out- 
 
THE MOROCCO BOOK AGAIN. 123 
 
 right, and she tickled Jane, as she slid down upon 
 the cricket, and said, 
 
 "Ah ha! you are a fine little auditor, here 
 you have forgotten all my story." 
 
 Jane struggled, and pulled, and tried to get 
 away, making the room ring all the time with her 
 merry peals of laughter, saying, ell the time, 
 
 " O no, grandmother, I have not forgotten ; 
 I have not forgotten, grandmother. I haven't 
 forgotten." 
 
 Her grandmother paid no attention to what 
 she said, but kept up the frolic by leaning over 
 and holding her down, and playfully shaking and 
 squeezing her, until, at length, Jane rolled over 
 upon the carpet, and scrambled off out of her 
 reach. 
 
 As soon as she was at a safe distance, she as- 
 sumed a sober look, and turned around, and said, 
 
 " I have not forgotten, grandmother, certainly 
 [ can tell you a great deal." 
 
 " Well," said her grandmother, " come, then, 
 and tell me." 
 
 So Jane came again, and took her seat in her 
 grandmother's lap, to begin again. 
 
 " Now," said her grandmother, " describe the 
 scene at the farmer's cabin on a stormy evening." 
 
 rt Well, — the farmer goes out to the bam to 
 
124 
 
 feed his oxen, a.ad the ship tosses about upon the 
 waves — and — and " 
 
 " Well, that will do for that," said her grand- 
 mother. " Now tell me about the scene in the 
 city." 
 
 " In the city ? " asked Jane. 
 
 " Yes," answered her grandmother. 
 
 " Let me see ; — was that about the ship ? " 
 
 " No," said her grandmother. 
 
 " O, I remember now," said Jane " It was 
 about the Jack-o-lantern, — and the drivers. — 
 They go with their horses to let the ladies take 
 their visits. I should like to have a ride in such 
 a coach as that, — if they had four horses, — or 
 five. I think they had about four. Well, and 
 the boy lights the lamps with his candle-lantern, 
 and wishes that his ship was away off; and 
 that is all that I can remember." 
 
 So Jane jumped down, and ran away, while 
 her grandmother, after having a goal hearty 
 laugh, went on with her knitting. 
 
A DIALOGUE. 125 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 There were some dialogues, as well as sto- 
 res, in the Morocco Book. One was named The 
 Quagmire. It was as follows: — 
 
 THE QUAGMIRE. 
 
 Scene I. — A wild road near the margin of a 
 wood. Laura, George, and their Father and 
 Mother, with a horse and chaise. 
 
 Laura. Where are your raspberries, George ? 
 
 George. I have put them here in the chaise ; 
 and I will put yours in, too, as soon as I have 
 unfastened the horse. 
 
 Father. Now, children, I am going to walk 
 home ; and you, George, may drive your mother : 
 and as for you, Laura, which will you do, — ride 
 with them, or walk with me ? 
 
 Laura. Why, — which would you do, father/ 
 Will you let me drive a little, George ? 
 11* 
 
126 lucy's stories. 
 
 George. Yes, you may drive a little wajf 
 when we get up by the blacksmith's. 
 
 Laura. Well, then, I will nil 
 
 Father. Hold him a minute, George, while I 
 help mother in. 
 
 Mother. Wait. I'll put the small basket oe- 
 hind the great one. There. 
 
 Father. Now, Laura 
 
 Laura. But, father, you will be all abaa 
 I believe, on the whole, I will walk with you. - - 
 Which tvould you do ? 
 
 Father. You must decide. It is a mere mat- 
 ter of fancy. You must not walk to keep me 
 company. I shall have company enough. Do 
 just which you prefer. 
 
 George. Come, Laura, — in ; I'm wait- 
 ing. 
 
 Laura. Well, father, — which road are vou 
 going ? 
 
 Father. Along the bank. 
 
 Laura. And over the brook, by the great 
 
 Father. Yes, where you almost tumbled in. 
 
 Laura. Well, father, I'll walk. Perhaps I 
 shall see some more little fishes. 
 
 George. Well, good by, then, Laura ; stand 
 back from the wheel Come, Jack. 
 
THE QUAGMIRE. 127 
 
 Laura. I've a great mind to ride. Take 
 good care of my raspberries, George. 
 
 Father. Come, Laura ; now they've gone, 
 we'll walk along at our leisure. 
 
 Laura. Yes, father. Pve a great mind to 
 run and take hold behind the chaise till they get 
 up the hill. George! look around here, and 
 see us. 
 
 George. Ah, Laura, you'll wish you had 
 concluded to ride. 
 
 Father. Mind your driving, George, and 
 whip up. 
 
 Laura. Father, I wish I had rode. 
 
 Father. Well, Laura, it isn't too late ; but 
 then you'd lose the fishes. 
 
 Laura. No, I'll walk. I can ride at any 
 time. He may go. George, which way do you 
 think you shall go ? 
 
 George. Round by the mill, and then across 
 through the woods. But I can't talk to you any 
 more ; I must whip up. 
 
 Laura. Now, father, after all, I'm sorry that 
 ] didn't ride. I like very much to ride through 
 the woods. Last time we went, we saw a squirrel 
 there. I'll call him. 
 
 Father. No, Laura, it is too late now. 
 You've decided. 
 
128 lucy's stories. 
 
 Laura. No, father, I'll run. I can stop him 
 I can call very loud. George ! George ! Mother ! 
 George ! 
 
 Father. No, Laura. Laura, come back; 
 the wheels make too great a rattling. You must 
 walk now. 
 
 Laura. O father ! He won't stop. How 1 
 wish I had got into the chaise ! He wouldn'* 
 rtop, and yet I know he heard me. He wouldn't 
 ;top, and now I can't ride. 
 
 Father. No, you can't ride now. You had 
 your choice ; and ycu chose to walk with me. 
 You can't ride, but you can go over the great 
 log, and see the fishes. 
 
 Laura. But, father, I don't care about the 
 fishes. I've seen them already. I don't care 
 about the fishes. I wanted to ride, and now I 
 shall have to walk all the way home, and I 
 shall get so tired ! O dear me ! Why didn't he 
 stop? 
 
 Scene II. — A parlor. The tea-table. Laura, 
 George, and their Father. 
 
 Laura. Now, George, you've dropped my 
 doll out of the window. 
 
 George. She jumped. I verily believe she 
 
THE QUAGMIRE. 131 
 
 jumped. I'll go and get her. She has fallen be- 
 hind the rose-bush. 
 
 Laura. Ah, father, I am glad to see you 
 nutting away your book. Now if you will only 
 tell me a story. 
 
 Father. Very well ; come and sit in my la p 
 here, and look out the window, and I'll tell you 
 the story of a man and a quagmire. 
 
 Laura. What is a quagmire, father ? 
 
 George. Here is your doll, Laura. — A quag- 
 mire ? I know what a quagmire is. It is a kind 
 of a swamp. 
 
 Laura. Then why don't they say swamp, at 
 once ? and I should understand. 
 
 Father Because it is not exactly the same. 
 A quagmire is a very deep, miry swamp, or part of 
 a swamp. — And now for my story. — Once there 
 was a quagmire; and the road, when it came 
 near it, turned off and went by it on one side. 
 There was a turnpike also,, which branched off 
 from the old road, and went by on the other side. 
 
 Laura. What is a turnpike ? 
 
 George Why, — a turnpike? Laura, don't 
 you know what a turnpike is ? It is a kind 
 of a straight road. 
 
 Laura. Is it, father ? 
 
 Father. Yes, a turnpike is generally straightev 
 
132 
 
 and nearer than the old road, and you have to 
 pay a little money to go over it. Now, wnen 
 this man came to the place where the old road 
 branched off from the turnpike, he said tu him- 
 self, " Now, which way shall I go ? The turn- 
 pike is the nearest, and the old road is pleasa.itest. 
 I'll go the old road." So he turned into the old 
 road. " But no," said he ; "I am in some haste, 
 and I believe I'll take the turnpike." So he 
 turned, and went back around the guide-post, into 
 the turnpike. 
 
 Laura. Around what guide-post ? 
 
 George. Why, Laura, — you see, — there 
 was a guide-post, where the roads branched off, 
 >— I suppose. 
 
 Father. Yes. When the man had gone into 
 the turnpike a little way, he said to himself, 
 " But now, if I go in the turnpike, I shall have to 
 pay ; and I am not enough in a hurry to make it 
 worth while to pay. I've a great mind to go 
 back again to the old road." 
 
 Laura. O, what a man ! But. father, buw 
 much would he have to pay ? 
 
 Father. Only a little, — perhaps a few cents. 
 
 Laura. Well, father, go on. 
 
 Father. The man then said that he would 
 tonally decide to go by the old road ; and he went 
 
A DIALOGUE. 
 
 133 
 
 oack around the guide-post once more, and began 
 to walk along briskly. He had not gone very far, 
 however, before he began to doubt whether it 
 would not have been better to have gone by the 
 turnpike. " I was rather foolish to give up the 
 nearest road just to save two or three cents." So 
 he turned around, and began to look back ; but it 
 was so far to the guide-post, that he thought, on 
 the whole, he had better keep on. But after 
 going a few steps farther, he concluded that he 
 would go across through the woods, and cut ofl 
 the corner, — and so get into the turnpike again 
 by a nearer way. 
 
 Laura. O, father, what a man ! 
 
 Father. He accordingly climbed over the wall, 
 and went into the woods. Before long, he began 
 to get into the quagmire, though he contrived to 
 go on by walking upon mossy logs, and stepping 
 upon hummocks and tufts of grass. But it was 
 hard work and slow, — and says he, " I did not 
 think of the quagmire. If I had recollected 
 that there was a quagmire here, I would not have 
 attempted to come across. I believe now 1 had 
 better go back." 
 
 Laura. I think so too. 
 
 George. I would not go back, — I would pot 
 change any more, if the mud was up to my chin 
 
134 lucy's stories. 
 
 Father. He turned around, and went back a 
 few steps, though not exactly by the same way 
 that he came. There were fewer good places to 
 step. Presently he reached a hummock which 
 was pretty firm, and he stopped a minute to look 
 around and consider. Says he, " It would have 
 been better for me to go on. I think it likely 
 I had got half through the quagmire ; and at any 
 rate it was foolish to turn back. I'll push on 
 now I am in, and get through to the turnpike." 
 So he stepped off of the hummock in the direc- 
 tion towards the turnpike. 
 
 George. Ho ! — what a man ! I don't believe 
 he'll ever get out of the quagmire. 
 
 Father. He had now turned around so many 
 times, that he had got a good deal bewildered. 
 In fact, he hardly knew which way to go. The 
 ground grew softer and softer, too, and he began 
 to sink. He jumped forward to a green-looking 
 spot, which he hoped was solid ; but it was 
 nothing but long grass, — and he went into the 
 mud up to his knees. And here he had to stay, 
 railing for help, until somebody came and helped 
 him out. [George and Laura fell into an vmr 
 moderate fit of laughter.] 
 
 George. Father, that story isn't true, is it ? 
 
 Father I believe I did not say it was true. 
 
THE QUAGMIRE. 135 
 
 Laura. I don't believe it is true, father. It 
 must be one that you made up. And I know 
 what you mean. You mean me, father, I know 
 you do. 
 
 Father. You ! Why did you ever get into 
 such a quagmire? 
 
 Laura. No, father, not exactly. 
 
 Father. Well, I'll tell you how you can 
 always keep out of one. 
 
 Laura. How, father? 
 
 Father. Make it a rule, whenever you have 
 once decided what to do, never to reconsider the 
 question, and change your mind, unless something 
 uew and extraordinary comes to your knowledge 
 io make it necessary. 
 
136 lucy's siojutti. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SABBATH DAY. 
 
 Lucy was sometimes very much at a loss to 
 know what to do in the latter part of the after- 
 noons, on the Sabbath day. She generally went 
 to meeting in the first part of the afternoons ; for, 
 in the country where she lived, going to church 
 was commonly called going to meeting. After 
 the meeting, Lucy did not always know what to 
 do. She did not know how to read, and he/ 
 mother did not like to have her play. 
 
 One Sabbath afternoon, she had been sitting in 
 Miss Anne's room, looking at a picture-book fo; 
 some time, while Miss Anne had been reading. 
 At last she put down her book, and came to Miss 
 Anne, and said, 
 
 " Miss Anne, 1 wish you would tell me some- 
 thing to do. I au 1 tired of locking at pictures." 
 
 " Well," said Miss Anne, " and I am tired of 
 reading ; so 1 will take you up in my lap, and tell 
 you the story of Victor's Meeting." 
 
SABBATH DAY. 137 
 
 So Miss Anne took Lucy up, and commenced 
 the story as follows : — 
 
 VICTOR'S MEETING. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon, little Victorine was 
 sitting by the fire, reading, when her brother Vic- 
 tor came to her, and put his little hand gently 
 upon her cheek, and said, 
 
 " Reeny," — he often called her Reeny, — it 
 was a sort of contraction of Victorine, — "lain 
 going to have a meeting ; will you be my congre- 
 gation ? " 
 
 In the part of the world where Victor lived 
 going to church was generally called going to 
 meeting. 
 
 Victorine looked around, into the middle of the 
 room, and she saw that her little brother had 
 made all his preparations for a meeting. He had 
 one chair, with a cricket upon it, for a pulpit. 
 The large Bible was lying open upon the cricket, 
 and there was a hymn-book by its side. In front 
 of the pulpit, at a little distance from it, were three 
 other chairs in a row, with a music-book and the 
 bellows upon one of them. This was the sing- 
 ing gallery. On each side between the pulpit 
 and the gallery, chairs were arranged for the 
 
138 
 
 walls of the meeting-house ; and vrahin Victor 
 had placed two or three small chairs and crickets 
 for the congregation ; and now he wanted his sis- 
 ter to come and be his congregation. 
 
 Victorine looked for a minute or two at his ar- 
 rangements, and then said, 
 
 " Why, yes, I'll be your congregation." 
 
 Victor then ran back to his meeting-house, 
 while Victorine turned her eyes again to her book, 
 and went on with her reading. 
 
 Presently Victor began to say, " Ding-dong, 
 ding-dong, ding-dong," several times; and then, 
 after pausing a moment, he said, 
 
 " Come, Reeny, — why don't you come ? the 
 bell is ringing." 
 
 But Victorine was so much interested in her 
 book that she did not notice her brother's call. 
 
 " Victorine ! Victorine ! why don't you come ? " 
 
 Victorine looked up, and said, 
 
 " O, it will do just as well for me to sit here. 
 I can hear just as well here." 
 
 " No," said Victor ; and he came back to 
 where his sister was sitting, and took hold of her 
 arm, and said, 
 
 11 No, you must come and sit in the meeung- 
 Itouse. The congregation always sit in the meet- 
 ing-house." 
 
victor's meeting 139 
 
 " No, not always," said Victorine. 
 
 " When do they not ? " asked Victor. 
 
 " Why, sometimes the meeting-house is crowd- 
 ed, and so they cannot all get in. We will play 
 that the meeting-house is crowded." 
 
 " No," said Victor, " that will not do." He 
 understood that this was only an excuse of his 
 sister's for not coming ; and so he insisted that 
 she should come and sit in the proper place. 
 
 Victorine then slowly got up, and suffered her 
 brother to lead her into his meeting-house, and 
 place her upon a cricket there. 
 
 " Why, you have got a very good meeting- 
 house ; but what are those chairs there ? " 
 
 " They are the singing gallery," said Victor. 
 
 " And what are the bellows here for ? I never 
 saw bellows in a singing gallery." 
 
 " O, that is the base viol," said Victor. " They 
 are going to play on that, when I give out the 
 hymn." 
 
 His sister smiled ; but she took her seat, and, 
 while Victor was turning over the leaves of his 
 Bible to find the place, she opened her book, and 
 began to read again. 
 
 " Why, sister ! " said Victor. " You must not 
 read. People do no* read in meeting." 
 
 " O yes," said Victorine. m I am willing to 
 
140 
 
 sit here and be your congregation, but he:i you 
 must let me go on with my reading." 
 
 Here was a serious difficulty. Victorine waj 
 very much interested in her book, and she thought 
 that Victor was unreasonable, in wishing to have 
 her give it up. But he could not think of such a 
 thing as having any of his congregation reading 
 in meeting. At last, Victorine said that then 
 she would go away ; and, accordingly, she went 
 oack to her seat, and Victor began to cry. 
 
 Now, their father was reading by the side of 
 the fire, opposite to where Victorine was sitting ; 
 and he looked up, and asked what was the matter. 
 After hearing an explanation of the rase, he told 
 Victor that he was unreasonable. " Reeny was 
 very kind to be willing to go and sit in your con- 
 gregation," said he ; " but you ought not to expect 
 her to give up her own pursuits and enjoyments 
 entirely, and come and sit down idle before you. 
 And then, besides, when you found that she was 
 not willing to come, you did wrong to fret and 
 cry, and disturb us all in our reading." 
 
 For there were several of Victor's brothers and 
 sisters in the room, reading, besides Victorine. 
 
 Then Victor's father told him that he must put 
 a J the chairs and books back into their places, 
 and give up his meeting altogether. 
 
victor's meeting. 141 
 
 Victor begged his father to allow him to go on 
 witn his meeting alone ; but he would not His 
 father made it a rule that, whenever he did anything 
 m the parlor to disturb the family, he must suffer 
 some inconvenience or privation ; and this made 
 him generally careful and still in his plays. 
 
 Victor put back the chairs ; but he did it very 
 slowly and reluctantly, and was evidently much 
 out of humour. After he had done this, his father 
 told him to take a cricket, and go and sit down by 
 the kitchen fire, till he felt good-natured again ; 
 and he said that then he might come in. 
 
 Victor found that they were getting supper; 
 and he sat and watched the steam coming out of 
 the nose of the tea-kettle. 
 
 Victor's mother was getting tea. She asked 
 Victor what made him come and sit down there 
 so still. 
 
 "Why — ," answered Victor, hesitating, - 
 " father — said I might." 
 
 " Father said you might ? " 
 
 " No, he said I must" 
 
 " He said you must ? What for ? " 
 
 " Why, he said I must come and stay here until 
 1 felt good-natured." 
 
 " O, is that it ? " said his mother ; " well, then, 
 I'll make you feel good-natured very quick " 
 
142 
 
 Now there were two long peacock's feathers 
 hanging over the glass in the kitchen, and Victor's 
 mother went and took one down. 
 
 u What are you going to do ? " said Victor. 
 
 " I am going to tickle your nose with this 
 feather," said his mother, " to make you feel 
 good-natured." 
 
 " No," said Victor, laughing, though he tried 
 to keep sober. 
 
 " Yes," said his mother, laughing, without try 
 ing to keep sober. _ 
 
 As she approached with the feather, extending 
 the tip of it towards him, he first held his hand 
 over his face, peeping and smiling through his 
 fingers ; and then, as the feather came nearer and 
 nearer, he jumped up and ran away in high glee. 
 His mother pursued him across the room ; but he 
 made his escape out of the door which led into 
 the entry. His mother did not follow him. In a 
 minute or two, he came back, and opened the door 
 a little way, and peeped in. His mother was at 
 the table cutting some bread. 
 
 " Victor," said she, " I forgot that it was Sun- 
 day; we must not play to-day. But now, as 
 you seem to be good-natured, I suppose you can 
 go back into the parlor again, if you choose." 
 
 Victor thought so too. He accordingly went 
 
victor's meeting 143 
 
 back, and asked his father if he might have his 
 meeting again. 
 
 " Why, I don't know," said his father. " I 
 don't like to have you play meeting very well." 
 
 " Why not, father ? " said he. " I will be care- 
 ful not to disturb any body." 
 
 " Perhaps you will ; but I should rather have 
 you play something else." 
 
 " Why, is it wrong, father," said Victorine, " to 
 play meeting ? " 
 
 " 1 don't know that it is absolutely wrong ; but 
 it seems to be too serious a thing to make sport 
 of. I'll tell you what ; you may collect all the 
 children together on the sofa, and we will have a 
 real meeting. I will be the minister myself." 
 
 Victor was much pleased with this plan. Af- 
 ter tea, he placed the sofa and some chairs in 
 order, and then rang a little bell, to call the chil- 
 dren together. The children sat upon the sofa 
 and upon little chairs, and their father sat before 
 them, with the great Bible in his lap. First he 
 read a prayer out of a little prayer-book which he 
 had, telling the children that they must listen seri- 
 ously. Then he let one of them stand by hi3 
 side and read a story in the Bible, while he ex 
 plained it to them. Then he let Victor read two 
 verses of a hymn, and they all sang it. Then he 
 
144 
 
 LUCY'S STORIES. 
 
 said that for a sermon he would explain to them 
 the Savior's golden rule — " Whatsoever ye would 
 that others should do unto you, do ye even so 
 unto them." 
 
 " Is that your text ? " said Victor. 
 " Yes," said his father, " that is the text." 
 Then he explained the text to them, and 
 showed them how excellent a rule it was, and told 
 them of the various ways in which children often 
 break it. The discourse was very interesting and 
 profitable. After the sermon was ended, he said 
 that they would sing another hymn. He then se- 
 lected a hymn in the hymn-book, and let one of 
 the boys read it, and then they all sang it. There 
 were four verses. After the singing was over, 
 the meeting was dismissed, and the children weni 
 away, all excepting Victor, who remained, at his 
 father's request, to trundle back the sofa, and put 
 away the chairs. 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Lucy, when she found 
 
 that Miss Anne paused, as if she had finished the 
 
 story. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " that is all." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " I think that is a very 
 
 good plan. I wish you would have a meeting 
 
 some time, Miss Anne, for me." 
 
SABBATH DAY. 145 
 
 " I hardly know whether ft is proper for young 
 ladies to hold meetings," said Miss Anne. 
 
 "Well, it will be proper for my father," said 
 Lucy, ' ' at any rate. I mean to ask my father. 
 But will you be one of the congregation, Miss 
 Anne?" 
 
 u O 3 r es," said Miss Anne, "I will very 
 cheerfully be one of the congregation." 
 
'46 LUCl's STORIES. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 RACHEL. 
 
 Z9 LUCY' * M »T1TI 
 
 Once there was a little girl named Rachel 
 
 She was about six years old. She had a great 
 many books and playthings, but they were lying 
 about in various places all over the house. 
 
 One day she went to see her cousin. Her 
 cousin's playthings were all together, upon some 
 shelves. They were arranged in order. " O 
 dear ! " said Rachel, " how much prettier play- 
 things look when they are arranged in order ! I 
 wish 1 had some shelves." 
 
 A few days after this, she was at home one 
 afternoon, when there was no school. She did 
 not know what to do. She had nobody to play 
 with. She could not go out of doors, because it 
 rained. At last she said, " I know what to do. 
 I will go and put my playthings in order." 
 
 She went up into a rough chamber over the 
 sheet where there were some boxes. She put 
 
RACHEL. 147 
 
 down one of the boxes against the side of the 
 chamber, with the open side out. Then she put 
 another box upon the top of it. So site could 
 put her playthings in the boxes, which answered 
 for shelves. 
 
 First, she got her blocks. She had a great 
 many blocks. Some were in the kitchen, some 
 were in the closet, some were in a basket under 
 the table in the parlor. One was under the 
 clock. Rachel had put it under the clock some 
 days before, to play that it was a mouse. 
 
 Rachel collected all her blocks together, anu 
 carried them up to her shelves. She piled them 
 up neatly upon the lower shelf at one end. 
 They made a large, square pile. 
 
 " There," said she, " I am glad that I have 
 got all my blocks together, in one place." 
 
 Then she brought her doll ; and she looked all 
 about the house, and found all the doll's clothes, 
 and she put them together in a shelf above. 
 
 " Now," said she, " when my cousin come? 
 here to play with me, and we want to play with 
 my doll, I shall find her and all her things heie. 
 That will be very convenient." 
 
 Next Rachel thought she would put her books 
 in order So she went down stairs, and began to 
 look for her books. She found them «n various 
 
148 lucy's stories. 
 
 places, some on shelves, some in closets, and some 
 on the parlor floor. She brought them all up into 
 the rough chamber, and began to put them to- 
 gether neatly in a pile. 
 
 Pretty soon she observed a droll picture in one 
 of her books. It was a picture of a dog jumping 
 up. She thought she would read about it. So 
 she sat down upon the floor before her boxes, and 
 began to spell out the words under the picture. 
 
 While she was there, her mother came up into 
 the chamber to look for something in a great bag. 
 While she was looking for it, Rachel said, 
 
 " Mother, what does this word spell ? — m, - 
 there are one, two, three m?s in it, and two a?s." 
 
 " I think it must be mamma" said her mother. 
 " But what are you doing, Rachel ? " 
 
 "O, I am putting my things in order," said 
 Rachel. 
 
 Then her mother came to see what she was 
 doing. 
 
 " O," said she, " I am very glad to see this. 
 It is a fine plan for children to keep their play 
 things in order." 
 
 So Rachel's mother came to see her work, and 
 she said she liked the plan very much indeed 
 and she told her that she would give her a curtain 
 to hang up before her shelves. 
 
RACHEL. 149 
 
 Her mother then went back to the bag, and 
 took out a green roll. When she unrolled it, Ra- 
 chel saw it was a curtain. Rachel took it, and 
 then went and brought a few small tacks and a 
 carpet hammer, and nailed her curtain up. Then 
 she finished arranging her books, and put them in. 
 Thus she had a very convenient cabinet; and 
 she resolved that, after that, she would always 
 keep her things in order in it. 
 
 That night, at supper, Rachel told her mother 
 that she liked her cabinet very much, and she 
 said she had made a resolution always to keep her 
 things in order in it. 
 
 "Ah," said her mother, " but that's a very 
 hard resolution to keep." 
 
 " O no," said Rachel, " I think it will be veiy 
 easy. All 1 have to do is just to put my things 
 back in their places when I have done with them." 
 
 " Yes," said her mother, " that is all ; but that 
 is a great deal." 
 
 "O no, mother," said Rachel, "that is not 
 much." 
 
 " Well," said her mother, " we shall see." 
 
 It turned out in the end that her mother was 
 right; for in about two weeks Rachel's play- 
 things were scattered all over the house again, 
 
150 
 
 LUCY S STORIES. 
 
 as much as before. And the way they came 
 to be so was this : — 
 
 The day after she had put them in order, ?h« 
 brought her blocks down in a basket, to play witn 
 in the entry. At last, she got tired of playing 
 with the blocks, and she thought she would go 
 out in the kitchen, and see if she could not get an 
 apple to roast by the kitchen fire. So she left 
 her blocks upon the carpet. Presently her moth- 
 er put the blocks into the basket, and slid them 
 under a shelf in the closet; and thus it was 
 that her blocks got out of place. 
 
 A day or two after that, she wanted a book to 
 read ; and so she went up to her cabinet, and, 
 when she had pulled the curtain aside, she took 
 all her picture-books, and brought them down 
 stairs. She put them upon the table, and got 
 a chair, and sat up to the table, and began to look 
 them over, to find one to read. After she had 
 been reading a little while, the supper bell rang ; 
 and so she jumped down, and ran off to suppc* 
 After supper, she forgot that she had left her book* 
 upon the table ; and when her mother was arran- 
 ging the table that evening, for her evening work, 
 she put the books upon a shelf in the closet ; and 
 that is the way her books got out of place. 
 
 And one dav Rache 1 thought she would take 
 
RACHEL. 151 
 
 her doll down stairs, and let her go out to walk ; 
 so she led her out upon the grass in the yard, and 
 played that she was taking a walk. When she 
 thought that her doll was tired of walking, she let 
 her lie down upon the grass to rest. Presently a 
 butterfly came along, and Rachel ran off to catch 
 him. The butterfly flew over the fence into the 
 garden ; and Rachel went in at the gate, and tried 
 to find him. She could not find the butterfly ; 
 but she found her mother there gathering some 
 flower seeds. She stopped to help her ; and her 
 mother gave her some seeds, which she said she 
 meant to put away upon her shelves, in little 
 papers. But she put them on the kitchen table, 
 when she went in, and forgot them. 
 
 A few days after this, her cousin William came 
 to see her. She took him up stairs to show him 
 her shelves and playthings. She took out the 
 things one by one, and showed them to William, 
 and then put them on the floor. William took 
 out some of the things too. She was going to 
 put them all back again before she went away. 
 Presently she said, " But where are all mj 
 books ? Somebody has taken away all my 
 books. I put them here on the corner of this 
 shelf. They ought not to come and take away 
 my books." 
 
152 lucy's STORIES. 
 
 And presently she said again, 
 
 " And now, besides, where's my doll gone * 
 They have carried off my doll. I wish they wou! J 
 let my things alone, when I put them here." 
 
 " I rather think you carried her away yourself/'' 
 said William. 
 
 "No, I didn't," said Rachel ; « 1 left her here, 
 — exactly here." 
 
 Then, in a minute, she happened to recollect that 
 she had taken her doll out to walk, and said, 
 
 " O no, — I remember now. I left her on the 
 grass. Come with me, William, and I will show 
 you." 
 
 So William and Rachel ran down to find the 
 doll. She was lying in the grass, where Rachel 
 had put her. She was soaked with the rain ; and 
 when Rachel took her up, she found that there 
 were two great crickets hid under her. Rachel 
 said it was no matter ; it would not hurt her doll, 
 for she was used to being left out in the rain. 
 So she carried her in, in order to dry her by 
 the kitchen fire. 
 
 The next evening, after tea, Rachel's mother 
 said to her, 
 
 " Rachel, you remember that you told me, tho 
 ether day, that you had made a resolution to keep 
 four shelves always in order." 
 
RACHEL. 153 
 
 11 Yes, mother," said Rachel. 
 
 14 And I told you that you would find it a very 
 hard resolution to keep." 
 
 " Yes, mother, I recollect that you did." 
 
 44 Well, now, it is not a great many days since 
 then, and yet your establishment is all in confu- 
 sion. Your doll is in the table drawer in the 
 kitchen. Your blocks and your books are down 
 in the parlor closets ; and, as I went through the 
 rough chamber this afternoon, I saw that the rest 
 of your playthings were all in confusion about 
 the floor." 
 
 " Well, mother," said Rachel, "I was going to 
 put them up, but I had to go and look for my 
 doll." 
 
 Rachel's mother did not reply to this very un- 
 satisfactory excuse. She only said, 
 
 14 It is not a very difficult thing to put things in 
 order. But to keep them in order requires a 
 great deal of steady perseverance, energy, and 
 decision." 
 
64 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MARIELLE'S LITTLE BOOK 
 
 Marielle had told Lucy, some time beforr 
 this, that, when Mary Jay got her great Moroccc 
 Book to put her stories in, she gave away to the 
 children several of the little books which she had 
 made before, after having first copied them into 
 the Morocco Book ; and that, among other's, she 
 had given Marielle one, called the Story of Alice. 
 iVIarielle had promised Lucy that she would, some 
 day, show her this little book, and lead her tLe 
 story. 
 
 Now, Marielle lived at the house where the 
 school was kept; and the gaiden where they 
 played, was her father's gaiden. And one day 
 she told Lucy that her mother was going to invite 
 Miss Anne and Lucy to come and take tea there 
 the next afternoon ; and then she would read her 
 the story of Alice. 
 
 The invitation was accordingly given, and Mis* 
 Anne and Lucy went. They went very early 
 
MAR1LLLF ; S LITTLE. BOOK. IBS 
 
 because they wanted to ramble an hour or two 
 about the garden and grounds. 
 
 After they had been in the house about half an 
 hour, Miss Anne, Marielle, and Lucy, went out 
 to take a walk. Marielle said that she wanted to 
 take them away down beyond the garden, by the 
 shore of a brook, where Lucy had never been. 
 They walked about in the garden for some time. 
 Lucy showed Marielle the great pear-tree, and 
 the summer-house, and the arbor, and the green 
 square, where the children used to play hide-and- 
 seek. 
 
 After they had seen all these places, they passed 
 on through a little grove of trees at the bottom of 
 the garden, and then they went through a gate in 
 the garden wall, and came out into a beautiful 
 field beyond, where a broad walk led along down 
 to a brook. Here was a seat, where they sat 
 down to rest. Marielle then took out her little 
 book. It was small, and had marble covers ; and 
 the story was written in it in very fine, but very 
 plain writing. 
 
 There was a picture in the beginning. It was 
 a picture of a little girl in a boat near the bank 
 of a liver. They all looked at the picture for 
 some time, before they began to read. Miss 
 Anne seemed to be very much interested in the 
 
I 56 LUCy's STORlEs. 
 
 appearance of the book, and in the picture At 
 last they asked Miss Anne to read the story to 
 them, as she could read the best. So Miss Anne 
 oegan as follows : — 
 
 THE STORY OF ALICE 5 OR, SELF-POSSESSION 
 
 In a little valley by the side of a river, just 
 where there was a great curve in the stream, 
 there was a farm ; the land consisted of beautiful 
 intervals near the river, and high hill* and forests 
 behind. From the windows of the farm-house, 
 you could look up the river, or down the river, a 
 great many miles. 
 
 There was a little girl that lived in this farm- 
 house, named Alice. She was about five years 
 old. She used to play about the farm-yard, 
 sometimes feeding the chickens, and sometimes 
 planting corn and beans in a little bed they gave 
 her in the garden. She was quiet and good-na- 
 tured ; and so her father would often take her out 
 with him into the fields, when he went to work. 
 At such times, she would play about upon the 
 grass, and take good care not to be in her father's 
 way, nor trouble him by talking to him too much 
 when he was busy. She would talk to herself, 
 and - sing to herself, and find amusement hi a 
 
THE STORY OF ALICE. 157 
 
 thousand ways, without troubling him. And f» 
 he was very often glad to have her go with hi a. 
 
 The farmer used sometimes to paddle across 
 the river in his log canoe, to go to a village 
 which was about half a mile from the opposite 
 shore. The log canoe was a very good boat. 
 It was made of a very large log, and so it was 
 big enough to carry quite a number of people. It 
 was shaped well, and it had three good seats, and 
 a little deck at the bows. There were a paddle 
 and two oars, and on the deck there was a pretty 
 large, round stone, as big as a man's head, with 
 a rope fastened to it. The other end of the rope 
 was fastened to the bows of the boat. This 
 stone was the anchor. The farmer could anchor 
 his boat with it when he wanted to go a-fishing 
 anywhere out on the river, where the water was 
 not very deep, nor the current very rapid. 
 
 One day, Alice asked her father to let her go 
 over the river with him, in his boat. And he 
 said that he should like to have her go very much. 
 Only he told her that he could not let her go to the 
 town with him. She would have to wait in tho 
 ooat, he said, while he was gone. She asked 
 him how long he should be gone from the boat, 
 >nd he said about half an hour. 
 
 M Well," said she, " I can take on*) of my 
 
15£ lucy's stories. 
 
 book?, and look at the pictures while you are 
 gone." 
 
 So she got into the canoe with him, and he 
 paddled her over the river. 
 
 When they reached the opposite shore, Alice's 
 father stepped out, and took hold of the anchor 
 rope, pretty near where it was fastened to the 
 boat, and, pulling pretty hard, he drew the bows 
 of the boat up a little upon the sand. Then he 
 told Alice to take out her book, and amuse her- 
 self as well as she could, until he came back. 
 So Alice sat down upon a low seat, which her 
 father had made on purpose for her, and opened 
 her book, while her father went to a path which 
 led up the bank, and soon disappeared. 
 
 It would have been safer if the farmer, instead 
 of merely drawing the boat up upon the beach, 
 had taken out the anchor, and just laid that 'ipon 
 the shore. It is true that, under ordinary circum- 
 stances, drawing the boat up a little way would 
 have been enough. But there was one circum- 
 stance which rendered this mode of fastening the 
 boat, at this time, very insecure; and that was, 
 that the water was rising. It was rising very 
 slowly, but still it was rising. The cause of this 
 rising was, that there had been some rains among 
 the mountains, where the brooks began to run, 
 
THE STORY OF ALi^tf. tbl 
 
 \ h'cL made this river, though it had been very 
 pxeasuvt weather where the farmer lived ; and 
 thus the water in the river was rising, though the 
 farmer did not know it. Accordingly, when he 
 went up ilie bank, and left little Alice in the 
 boat, there was considerable danger that the wa- 
 ter might rise, and float her away. 
 
 And then, besides, after her father had gone, 
 Alice sometimes got tired of looking over her 
 book ; and then she amused herself in looking 
 around, — up and down the river, and back to 
 her father's farm. In doing so, she changed her 
 position a little, though she did not actually leave 
 her seat. This movement of hers naturally gave 
 a little motion to the boat, and tended to work it 
 loose in the sand, as the water rose, and gradually 
 buoyed it up. 
 
 At length, as Alice was looking over the side 
 of the c*moe, at the pebbles in the water under 
 mat part of the boat where she was sitting, she 
 thought the pebbles all seemed to be moving in 
 towards the shore. She wondered what this 
 strange phenomenon could be. The pebbles 
 glided slowly along, and the water seemed to be 
 growing deeper — appearances which puzzled 
 Alice very much, until she looked up, and found 
 that the boat was slowly floating away from Jie 
 
162 
 
 shore. It was this motion of the boat away from 
 the shore which caused the apparent motion ctf 
 the pebbles towards it. 
 
 The first feeling which Alice had was, that sh5 
 was having a beautiful little sail ; but in a very 
 few minutes she began to be afraid that she should 
 not be able to get back. 
 
 " Ah," said she, " I know what Til do. Til 
 paddle. I know how to paddle." 
 
 A paddle is somewhat like an oar, only it is 
 shorter and lighter, and has a broad, thin blade. 
 She took the paddle, and went to the seat where 
 her father usually sat, and tried to work it. But 
 she could not succeed. She could make the boat 
 go a little, but it did not go at all towards the 
 shore ; it seemed, on the other hand, to move far- 
 ther and farther from it. 
 
 Alice then put the paddle back in the boat, 
 and sat down upon her own little seat again, and 
 the tears began to come into her eyes. She did 
 not know what would become of her. The boat 
 went farther and farther away from the shore, ani 
 when she looked for the place where it had been 
 drawn up, she found that it was getting to be so 
 far off that she could scarcely distinguish it. And 
 in the mean time, as her boat floated slowly down 
 the stream, the banks, and rocks, and trees upon 
 
TIIE STORY OF AI-TCE. 163 
 
 ine shore, seemed to glide along as if the whole 
 country was in motion. 
 
 Alice soon reflected that it would do no good 
 to cry; and so she wiped away the tears, and 
 Degan to consider what would probably become 
 of her. She saw that she was drifting down, 
 down very far, and she wondered where it was 
 that the river went to, in the end ; for she 
 knew that she must go there, at last, wherever it 
 was, unless she could get stopped in some way. 
 Then she thought that perhaps somebody might 
 see her from the shore, and come out to her, — 
 somebody that would know how to paddle, and 
 so be able to paddle her back to the shore. But 
 then, again, she did not see how they could get 
 out to her, if they should see her. Then she 
 thought that, perhaps, in going down the river, the 
 boat might accidentally get nearer and nearer to 
 one bank or the other, and especially that, at 
 some place where the river turned, the boat might, 
 perhaps, keep on, and so come to the shore. 
 
 While she was thinking of these things, she 
 kept stil] sailing down farther and farther; until, 
 at length, she saw before her a kind of a bend in 
 the river, and there was a point of land on one 
 lide, which stretched out almost before where 
 W boat was going. 
 
164 ..UCy's STORIES. 
 
 " Ah," said Alice, " I shall run against that 
 point of land, and then I can get out." 
 
 The boat went on, directly towards the end of 
 the point, and Alice could not tell wliether it was 
 going to come against it and stop, or just go by. 
 The point was rocky. As the canoe came nearer, 
 she saw that it was just going by it, barely touch- 
 ing. As it glided slowly along, Alice put out her 
 hand to get hold of the corner of a rock, and stop 
 herself. But the canoe pulled so hard that it 
 pulled her hand away. Alice that instant thought 
 of her father's boat-hook. The boat-hook was a 
 pole, not very long, with a hook in one end of it ; 
 and she remembered that her father used to hook 
 this into something or other upon the shore, when- 
 ever he wished to land. She got the boat-hook 
 up as quick as she could, but it was too late. 
 Before she could get it reached out towards the 
 rock, the boat had got so far away that she could 
 not get hold of it : the end dropped into the wa- 
 ter, and she had reached out so far that the boat 
 tipped over very much to one side ; and Alice 
 suddenly let go the end of the pole which she 
 had in her hand, in order to catch hold of the 
 side of the boat. Of course, the boat-hook 
 dropped entirely into the water, and began to 
 float away. Alice tried to r**ach it with thr 
 
THE STORY OF ALICE. 165 
 
 paddle but she could not. She was very much 
 concerned at the loss of her father's boat-hook. 
 
 Alice was now quite disheartened, and did no* 
 know what to do ; but, as she was sitting upon 
 her seat, musing upon her sad situation, her eye 
 happened to fall upon the great round stone, 
 which served for an anchor, and which was upon 
 the bows of the canoe. " Ah," said she, " I'll 
 anchor. That's what I'll do." 
 
 So she went forward to the anchor, and began 
 to roll it over towards the edge of the boat. In 
 a moment, however, she recollected that when 
 she had been out with her father, fishing, he had 
 said that he could not anchor his boat, except 
 where the water was so shallow that he could 
 see the bottom. So she looked down into the 
 water, to see if she could see the bottom. She 
 could not. The water was dark and deep. So 
 she knew it would do no good to put the anchor 
 in there. 
 
 She then thought she would wait and see if 
 the boat would not come over some shallow place , 
 as it moved along. So she sat down by the side 
 of the stone, and watched the water. She did 
 not have to wait a great while ; for presently she 
 observed that the water began to have a yellow- 
 ish tinge, which was given to it by the li^ht re- 
 
166 LUCY S STORIES. 
 
 fleeted from the sand below. It grew brighter 
 dnd brighter, and presently the dim foim of a 
 large log, which was lying upon the bottom, glided 
 into view. Very soon Alice could see the sand 
 and the pebbles very distinctly ; and she rose from 
 her seat, saying, 
 
 " Now I'll let the anchor go." 
 
 She exerted all her strength, and rolled the 
 stone over the bows. It plunged into t<he water 
 with a great noise and spattering. The rope ran 
 out after it very fast, and in a minute or two ihe 
 boat stopped, and the current of the water began 
 to ripple fast against the bows and along its sides. 
 
 " There," said Alice ; " now if somebody 
 would only come and get me I " 
 
 She waited here for nearly a quarter of an 
 hour, looking about, sometimes up and down the 
 river, and sometimes across to the banks on each 
 side, in hopes to see somebody coming. At last, 
 as she was looking up the river, she thought she 
 saw something black upon the water. She looked 
 at it attentively. Presently she could perceive 
 that there was something moving in it or about 
 »t. She soon made it out to be a boat, with oars 
 working briskly in the water on each side. It 
 was coming directly towards her. Alice was 
 very glad. She determined iliat as soon as thej 
 
THE STORY OF ALICE. 167 
 
 should come pretty near, she would speak to 
 them, and ask them to paddle her back to hei 
 father's. 
 
 As the boat came on towards her, Alice ob- 
 served that one of the rowers stopped rowing, and 
 stood up in the boat, looking towards her. Alice 
 perceived that it was her father ; and just at the 
 same instant, he saw her, and called out, 
 
 " Alice ! " 
 
 Alice answered, 
 
 " Here I am, father, — all safe, — only I have 
 lost your boat-hook. But I am very sorry." 
 
 Her father was very glad indeed to find her 
 safe again. When he found that the boat was 
 gone from the place where he had left it, he was 
 very much alarmed; he supposed that the boat 
 had drifted away, and he was afraid his little 
 Alice had got drowned. He, however, went as 
 quick as he could, and got another boat, and an- 
 other man, too, to help him row, so that he could 
 go down the river faster. He was therefore ex- 
 ceedingly glad when he found her safely ancnored, 
 and he told her that he did not care ary thing 
 about the boat-hook at all. 
 
168 LUCY S STORIES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 PLAYING COLLEGE. 
 
 A STORY FROM THE MOROCCO BOOK 
 
 Anna and George were one evening playh f 
 tround the fire just before tea, when their father 
 came in and took his seat in the great arm-chair, 
 waiting for the tea bell to ring. 
 
 Anna and George both came to him, and want 
 ed him to have a play. 
 
 " Well, what shall we play ? " said their father. 
 
 " Let us play lion and old man," said Anna. 
 
 " No," said her father, " that is a noisy play, 
 and I do not feel like a noisy play just now. 
 We'll play college." 
 
 " Play college 1 " said George. " O, I don't 
 know how to play college." 
 
 " But I will tell you. You shall be the class, 
 and I will be the Professor of Philosophy. The 
 class in college come together, and sit very quiet 
 and still while the Professor gives them a lecture 
 in Philosophy, and explains something to them 
 which they did not understand before ; and then 
 he asks them questions, to see if they remember 
 what he has told them." 
 
 So Anna and George brought their crickets, 
 and sat down before their father, and listened very 
 gravely while he lectured them as follows : — 
 
 "The subject of this lecture, young gentle 
 men, " 
 
PLAYING COLLEGE. 169 
 
 " 1 am not a young gentleman," said Anna. 
 
 " No, but we play that you are," said George 
 
 " The subject of my lecture," continued their 
 father, " is the fire." 
 
 Here George and Anna both looked at the 
 bright fire which was burning in the fireplace. 
 
 " When a fire like that is burning," continued 
 their father, " there is a kind of hot, smoky aii 
 produced, which is not good to breathe. It would 
 strangle us." 
 
 " What do you mean by strangle ? " asked 
 George. He was a small boy, and he did not 
 understand language very well. 
 
 " Why, it would produce 8 kind of choking, 
 stifling feeling, and make us catch our breath 
 and cough ; and at last, if we could not get any 
 other air to breathe, we should sink down and 
 die ; so that, if there was a tight room made, 
 with a brick floor, and a fire was made upon 
 the floor, and people were shut up in the room, 
 it would in a short time kill them." 
 
 " The smoke would kill them ? " said George. 
 
 " It would not be altogether the smoke. Smoke 
 is what we can see rising up from a fire ; but there 
 is something else, called a gas, or rather there are 
 several kinds of gas, which come from a fire ; and 
 these gases and the smoke together are what 
 would strangle us if we should breathe them 
 Now, it follows from this, that if we wish to have 
 a fire in a room, we must have some way for the 
 smoke and the gases to go off, or we shall ba 
 choked and strangled by them. 
 
170 lucy's stories. 
 
 " The way we contrive to let them oft* is ay a 
 chimney. The chimney has an opening through 
 it, from the top to the bottom. This opening is 
 called a flue. The smoke and the gases can go 
 up this flue. It must be built of something that 
 will not burn, or else the sparks might set it on 
 fire. They commonly build it of bricks. Some- 
 times the farmers, in the new settlements, cannot 
 get bricks very conveniently, and so they build 
 their chimneys of great stones ; but this makes a 
 very rough-looking fireplace. They make the 
 hearth of great, flat stones, too." 
 
 " O, I should like to see one," said Anna. 
 
 " I have seen them," said her father. " Sav- 
 ages have no chimneys." 
 
 " What are savages ? " said George. 
 
 " They are wild men, that live, in some parts 
 of the world, in the woods, in little huts, which 
 they make of branches of trees or of bark. They 
 build their fires in the middle of the hut, and let 
 the smoke go out of a hole in the roof overhead. 
 There must always be some passage ; for there is 
 no such thing as having a fire without its pro- 
 ducing smoke and gases, which it would be bad 
 to breathe." 
 
 "Does a lamp make gases," asked George, 
 " when it is burning ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied his father ; " but a lamp is such 
 a small fire, that the gases float away, and mingle 
 with the air of the room." 
 
 " O father," said Anna, " is a lamp a fire ? " 
 
 " Yes," said her father, " it is a little fire of oil'* 
 
 " 1 never knew that," said George. 
 
PLAYING COLLEGE. 171 
 
 " You never heard it called a fire, perhaps, but 
 you knew that it was of the same nature. But 
 now my lecture is over, and I must ask the class 
 some questions." 
 
 Their father was then going to ask the children 
 some questions ; but, just as he was going to begin, 
 the tea came in, and the bell rang, and so they 
 all gave up playing college, and went and took 
 their seats at table. 
 
 George and Anna, who had been quite inter 
 ested in their lecture, observed at once that the 
 tea-pot was smoking, and they said there ought to 
 be a chimney for that smoke to go up in. 
 
 " O, that is not smoke," said their father ; " that 
 is something very different." 
 
 " What is it ? " said Anna. 
 
 " It is vapor. Vapor is very different from 
 smoke," said her father. 
 
 " How is it different ? " 
 
 " Why, vapor is made up of very fine particles 
 of water, and it does not strangle us to breathe 
 them. But smoke is made up of fine particles of 
 coal, or something like coal. If you hold the blade 
 of a knife in the vapor from the tea-pot, you will 
 find that a spot upon it will become covered with 
 water; but things held long in the smoke, like 
 the hooks and the crane over the kitchen fire, be- 
 come black and sooty. Soot is formed of particles 
 of smoke collected upon the iron, or upon the 
 back of the chimney. So that there is a very 
 great difference between smoke and vapor, though 
 they look somewhat alike. There is an obvious 
 difference, too, even in the appearance, if we tv«v 
 
172 
 
 LUCY'S STORIES. 
 
 tice carefully. Vapor is grayish white. Smoke 
 is blue. Vapor, after it rises a little way, melts 
 away, and disappears entirely ; but smoke rema ns. 
 If it gets into a room, it spreads all over it, and 
 remains in the air until it gradually goes off' out 
 the doors or windows, or up the chimney." 
 
 After tea, Anna and George begged their moth- 
 er to put the tea-pot down upon the floor a min- 
 ute or two, and let them hold their heads over 
 it, and see if they could breathe the vapor. Their 
 father told them they must not hold their heads 
 near, for it might be hot enough to scald them. 
 He was, in fact, rather unwilling to let them try 
 that experiment at all, for fear of some danger. 
 At length, however, he concluded to let them try 
 cautiously, taking care tha' ihey lid not put their 
 heads very near. They found that the vapor did 
 not strangle them at all, nor make their eyes 
 tingle, like smoke. So they were satisfied that 
 it was a very different thing ; though their fa- 
 ther told them that vapor was often mingled with 
 smoke, from the fire, and came out with it, at the 
 top of the chimney. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE STRANGER'S STORY. 
 
 One day, when Lucy was quite a little girl, 
 she travelled with her father in the steamboat. 
 It was almost evening when they went on board 
 
THE STRANGER'S STORY. 173 
 
 the steamboat, and they sailed along a narrow 
 channel of water, looking at the beauti-ful shores, 
 The sun was just setting; and its bright rays 
 gilded the trees and glittered upon the windows. 
 At first, Lucy thought that the houses were on 
 fire; but her mother told her it was only the 
 reflection of the sun. 
 
 At length the sun went down, and left the 
 western sky full of brilliant clouds. Lucy looked 
 at them, and played that they were cities on fire, 
 and slowly burning. She saw steeples and 
 towers, red with flames, and giants' heads look- 
 ing over the battlements. In another part of 
 the sky, at a little distance, there were lions, 
 and tigers, and elephants, of fire. Lucy watched 
 them a long time. She listened, trying to hear 
 the flames of the burning cities crackle, or the 
 lions roar. But they were all still. She heard 
 nothing but the thundering of the engine, and the 
 dashing of the boat through the water. 
 
 At length the brightness of the sky gradually 
 faded away. The steamboat swept swiftly around 
 a point of land with a tall, white lighthouse upon 
 it. By doing this, the boat changed its course 
 somewhat, and a great stream of sparks from the 
 chimney of the engine came pouring over to thft 
 part of the sky where Lucy was looking. She 
 thought the sparks were more beautiful than the 
 clouds. They seemed to Lucy to be as far off 
 as the stars, and they were far more numerous 
 and brilliant. 
 
 After a time, the evering air began to grow &c 
 15* 
 
174 lucy's stories. 
 
 cool that Lucy's mother said that they must move 
 back into a more sheltered place. So they took 
 their seats, and put them in a sheltered comer, 
 near some trunks, which were piled up pretty 
 high. There was a gentleman sitting upon the 
 other side of the pile of trunks. Lucy could just 
 see his head over the tops of them 
 
 Aftetfa short time, the gentleman spoke to Lucy, 
 and said, 
 
 " My little girl, won't you come and sit with me ? '' 
 
 Lucy did not answer. She hung her head, and 
 looked very foolish. 
 
 This was not right. If Lucy thought it was 
 best not to go and see the gentleman without her 
 mother's leave, she ought to have looked up to 
 him pleasantly, and said, " No, I thank you. 
 sir." Instead of that, she only hung her head, 
 and looked as if she was afraid. 
 
 Presently the gentleman invited her again, and 
 her mother said, " Should not you like to go and 
 see the gentleman, Lucy ? You may go." 
 
 But still Lucy did not answer. She put her 
 finger in her mouth, and moved about upon her 
 seat restlessly, without saying a word. 
 
 But the gentleman wanted her to come and 
 see him very much. He was alone, and had no- 
 body to talk with, and so he thought he should 
 like to have Lucy come and sit in his lap, and let 
 him tell her a story. But Lucy would not come. 
 
 Lucy was afraid of him. She did not really 
 suppose that he would hurt her, but she was 
 airaid of him because he was a stranger. This 
 being excessively afraid of strangers which 
 
175 
 
 makes children appear so silly, is called 
 bashfulness. Lucy was bashful. 
 
 Then the gentleman thought to himself, 
 
 " I will contrive a plan to get her to come 
 to me." 
 
 Then he said aloud to Lucy. " If you will 
 come here and sit in my lap, I will tell you a story." 
 
 But Lucy did not move or answer. 
 
 " Should you like to have me tell you a story 
 while you stay where you are ? " said the gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Lucy. 
 
 " But the engine makes such a noise that I 
 cannot talk very well over the tops of the trunks," 
 said the gentleman. " I shall soon get tired. 
 But if you will come and sit with me, I can tel 
 you the story right in your ear. That will be 
 easy, and so I can make the story a great deal 
 longer ; and then, besides, you can hear better." 
 
 Lucy did not answer. 
 
 " Very well," said the gentleman ; " if you 
 prefer to stay where you are, I will do as well 
 as I can. I will begin the story, and go on until 
 I am tired." 
 
 Now, the gentleman's plan was this. He was 
 going to begin a story to Lucy, telling it to her 
 over the trunks, and go on until he came to some 
 interesting part, and then he was going to stop 
 and say that he could not tell any more over the 
 trunks ; but that, if she would come, and sit with 
 him, he would finish it. He expected that bv 
 this time Lucy would have become a little ac- 
 quainted with him, so that she would not be j«» 
 
l76 LUCY*S STORIES. 
 
 afraid, — « and also that she would become inter- 
 ested in what he was telling her, and want to 
 hear the rest of it. This was a very ingenious 
 plan, and you shall hear how it succeeded. 
 
 THE STRANGER'S STORY. 
 
 The gentleman began his story Li the follow- 
 ing words : — 
 
 "The story is about a girl named Agatha. 
 One day, after dinner, she said, 
 
 "< Mother ?' 
 
 " And her mother said, 
 
 "'What, Agatha?' 
 
 Here Lucy began to turn round in her seat to 
 look towards the gentleman who was telling the 
 story, so that she could hear better what Agatha 
 was going to say. She was curious to know 
 what she was going to say. 
 
 The gentleman continued as follows : — 
 
 " ' I wish, mother, you would let me go out and 
 take a walk, this afternoon, down to the bird's 
 nest. I want to see if the little birds are big 
 enough to fly.' 
 
 " ' No, Agatha, I cannot let you go this after- 
 noon ; you must stay and help me iron the 
 clothes.' 
 
 " < Well, mother, 1 said Agatha, < I will.' 
 
 " She did not look sullen and ill-humored, and 
 begin to complain or murmur because she could 
 not go ; but she said, cheerfully and pleasantly, 
 Well, mother, I will/ 
 
 " She went at once and got some wood to 
 
177 
 
 make a good fire ; then she put the flatirons down 
 before it, and she worked industriously all the 
 afternoon until five o'clock. By that time the 
 clothes were all ironed and put away, and tl>e 
 table set back in its place. 
 
 " Then Agatha asked her mother if she might 
 sweep up the hearth ; and her mother said, ' Yes.' 
 
 " So Agatha took the brush, and swept the 
 hearth, and put the chairs back, and made the 
 room look very neat and pleasant. 
 
 " Then her mother said, 
 
 " ' Now, Agatha, you have been a very good 
 girl, and have helped me a great deal this after- 
 noon ; and, if you would like it, you may go and 
 get your cousin George, and have a gypsy supper.' 
 
 " ' Well ! ' said Agatha, — ' and may I abk Lou- 
 isa to come too * ' 
 
 " ( Yes/ said her mother. 
 
 fC So Agatha got her bonnet, and went skipping 
 away, saying, ' I am going to have a gypsy supper, 
 — a gypsy supper.' " 
 
 Here Lucy looked up, and said, with a timid 
 voice, " I don't know what a gypsy supper is." 
 
 " Don't you ? " said the stranger. " Did you 
 never hear of a gypsy supper ? " 
 
 " No, sir," answered Lucy. 
 
 " Well," said the stranger, " you will hear as I 
 go on with the story. Agatha went to the next 
 house, where her cousin George lived, and then 
 to the house beyond, where Louisa lived; and 
 she invited them to come and have a gypsy sup- 
 per with her ; and they txxh came. 
 
178 LUCY'S STORIES. 
 
 " George brought his little trucks, so as to haul 
 the things for the gypsy supper. When the)' got 
 to the house, Agatha's mother had got every thing 
 ready for them upon the kitchen table ; and there 
 was a tin pail with a cover to put the various articles 
 into. George left his trucks at the door, and all 
 the children came in, and stood around the table, 
 and looked on, while Agatha began to put the 
 things into the tin pail. 
 
 " First there were six apples, — two for each 
 of them. You see there were three children ; and 
 two apiece for three makes six. Then there was 
 a beautiful little " 
 
 Here the gentleman stopped telling his story, 
 and said, 
 
 "But I believe I cannot tell you any more 
 now. It is hard for me to talk to you so far, — 
 the engine makes such a noise. I begin to be 
 pretty tired. If you were here sitting up in my 
 lap, I could finish it ; but I suppose you don't 
 care enough about hearing the rest of it to come 
 and sit with me." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Lucy, " I'll come." 
 
 So saying, Lucy jumped down from her seat, 
 and ran round the trunks to the place where the 
 gentleman was sitting. He took her up into his 
 lap, and proeeeded at once as follows: — 
 
 " There was a beautiful little apple-pie on the 
 table, just big enough to go easily into the bottom 
 of the tin pail. Then there were several slices 
 of bread and butter, and a small tin mug for them 
 to drink water with from the spring. 
 
THE STRANGER'S STORY. 179 
 
 41 What spring ? " said Lucy. 
 
 n Why, a spring down in the woods, where they 
 *ere going to have their gypsy supper." 
 
 " Were they going down into the woods ? " 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said the gentleman, " you will hear. 
 They put all the things carefully into the pail, 
 and then they put the pail upon the trucks, and 
 George drew it along. The two girls walked 
 behind. They went down through the yard, and 
 out at a gate. Agatha held the gate open, while 
 George drew the trucks through. Here they 
 (bund a path leading down into the woods. They 
 went on till they came into a valley, where there 
 was a spring of beautiful cool water, and some 
 rocks around it to sit upon. 
 
 " The first thing they did was to build a 
 little fire. George and Louisa looked around for 
 dry sticks, while Agatha lighted a match and 
 kindled them. Pretty soon, they had a very good 
 tire, and they put the apples down before it to 
 roast, on a flat stone. They took out the bread 
 and butter, and began to eat it while the apples 
 were roasting. Then they cut the pie, and each 
 took a slice ; and when they were thirsty, they 
 drank water from the spring by means of the 
 III tie dipper. And all the time they were talking 
 together very happily, — while the smoke of the 
 fire curled up among the tops of the trees." 
 
 Here the gentleman stopped. 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said the gentleman, " that is about all 
 
180 
 
 " Why, — didn't they go home again ? " aske<f 
 Lucy. 
 
 "O yes, after they had finished their gypsy 
 supper, they all went home." 
 
 " Is that a gypsy supper ? " said Lucy, after a 
 short pause. 
 
 " Yes," said the gentleman. "Gypsies are 
 people that live chiefly out of doors. They have 
 no nouses of their own ; and so, whenever children 
 have a supper, by themselves, in the woods, or in 
 the fields, they call it a gypsy supper" 
 
 Here Lucy, observing that the gentleman had 
 no more to tell, began to slide down out of his 
 lap, to go back to her seat. He made no resist- 
 ance, and so Lucy left him alone. Presently the 
 gentleman arose from his seat, and walked away. 
 Her mother said to her, 
 
 " Are you glad or sorry that you went to see 
 the gentleman ? " 
 
 " Glad," said Lucy. 
 
 " You were afraid to go, at first." 
 
 " Yes, mother," said Lucy, " I know I was." 
 
 " It is very foolish," said her mother, " for chil- 
 dren to be afraid of ladies or gentlemen just be- 
 cause they are strangers." 
 
 Lucy thought that this was correct, and she 
 resolved that the next time a gentleman spoke to 
 her under such circumstances, she would go to 
 him, and hear what he had to say ; and a short 
 time afterwards, when she met this gentleman 
 walking upon the deck of the steamboat, tth 
 thanked him for telling her the story. 
 
COUSIN LUCY'S 
 CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ROLLO BOOKS. 
 
 >*Xc 
 
 THE LUCY SERIES 
 
 IS COMPOSED OF SIX VOLUMES, VIZ. : 
 
 Lucy Among the Mountains. 
 Lucy's Conversations. 
 Lucy on the Sea-Shore. 
 
 Lucy at Study. 
 
 Lucy at Play. 
 
 Stories told to Cousin Lucy. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, REVISED BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., 
 
 No. 13 Astoii Place. 
 
NOTICE, 
 
 The simple delineations of the or- 
 dinary incidents and feelings which 
 characterize childhood, that are con- 
 tained in the Rollo Books, having been 
 found to interest, and, as the author 
 hopes, in some degree to benefit the 
 young" readers for whom they were 
 designed, — the plan is herein extended 
 to children of the other sex. The two 
 first volumes of the series are Lucy's 
 Conversations and Lucy's Stories. 
 Lucy was Rollo's cousin; and the au- 
 thor hopes that the history of her life 
 and adventures may be entertaining 
 and useful to the sisters of the boys 
 who have honored the Kollo Books 
 with their approval. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Pasre 
 CONVERSATION I. 
 
 The Treasury ° 
 
 CONVERSATION II. 
 Definitions 2J 
 
 CONVERSATION III. 
 The Glen 34 
 
 CONVERSATION IV. 
 A Prisoner 43 
 
 CONVERSATION V. 
 Target Painting 51 
 
 CONVERSATION VI. 
 Midnight 60 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 CONVERSATION VII. 
 Joanna 75 
 
 CONVERSATION VIIL 
 Building 88 
 
 CONVERSATION IX. 
 
 EQUIVOCATION 103 
 
 CONVERSATION X. 
 Johnny 118 
 
 CONVERSATION XI. 
 Getting Lost .132 
 
 CONVERSATION XII. 
 Lucy's Scholar 14G 
 
 CONVERSATION XIII. 
 Sketching 159 
 
 CONVERSATION XIV. 
 Danger 170 
 
LUCY'S OONYEESATIONS. 
 
 CONVERSATION I. 
 
 THE TREASURY. 
 
 One day in summer, when Lucy was a very 
 little girl, she was sitting in her rocking-chair, 
 playing keep school. She had placed several 
 crickets and small chairs in a row for the chil- 
 dren's seats, and had been talking, in dialogue, 
 for some time, pretending to hold conversations 
 with her pupils. She heard one read and spell, 
 and gave another directions about her writing ; 
 and she had quite a long talk with a third about 
 tho reason why she did not come to school earlier. 
 At last Luc} T , seeing the kitten come into the 
 room, and thinking tha' she should like to go and 
 play with her, told the children that she thought 
 it was time for school to be done. 
 
 Royal, Lucy's brother, had been sitting upon 
 
10 
 
 the steps at the front door, while Lucy was play- 
 ing school ; and just as she was thinking that it 
 was time to dismiss the children, he happened to 
 get up and come into the room. Royal was 
 about eleven years old. When he found that 
 Lucy was playing school, he stopped at the door 
 a moment to listen. 
 
 " Now, children," said Lucy, " it is time for the 
 school to be dismissed ; for I want to play with 
 the kitten." 
 
 Here Royal laughed aloud. 
 
 Lucy looked around, a little disturbed at Roy 
 al's interruption. Besides, she did not like to be 
 laughed at. She, however, said nothing in reply, 
 but still continued to give her attention to her 
 school. Royal walked in, and stood somewha 
 nearer. 
 
 " We will sing a hymn," said Lucy, gravely. 
 
 Here Royal laughed again. 
 
 " Royal, you must not laugh," said Lucy. 
 u They always sing a hymn at the end of a 
 school." Then, making believe that she was 
 speaking to her scholars, she said, " You may all 
 take out your hymn-books, children." 
 
 Lucy had a little hymn-book in her hand, and 
 she began turning over the leaves, pretending ui 
 find a place. 
 
THL TREASURY. 11 
 
 " You r.idy wing," the said, at last, " the thirty 
 third hymn, long part, second metre." 
 
 At this sad mismaving of the words in Lucy's 
 announcement of the hymn, Royal found that 
 he could contain himself no longer. He burst 
 into loud and incontrollable fits of laughter, stag- 
 gering about the room, and saying to himself, as 
 he could catch a little breath, " Long part ! — - 
 O dear me ! — second metre ! — O dear ! " 
 
 " Royal," said Lucy, with all the sternness she 
 could command, " you shall not laugh." 
 
 Royal made no reply, but tumbled over upon 
 die sofa, holding his sides, and every minute re- 
 peating, at the intervals of the paroxysm, " Long 
 part — second metre ! — O dear me ! " 
 
 " Royal," said Lucy again, stamping with her 
 little foot upon the carpet, " I tell you, you 
 shall not laugh." 
 
 Then suddenly she seized a little twig which she 
 had by her side, and which she had provided as a 
 rod to punish her imaginary scholars with ; and, 
 starting up, she ran towards Royal, saying, " IT 
 soon make you sober with my rod." 
 
 Royal immediately jumped up from the sofa, 
 and ran off, — Lucy in hot pursuit. Royal turned 
 into the back entry, and passed out through an 
 open door behind, which led into a little green 
 
yard back of the house. There was a young 
 lady, about seventeen years old, coming out of the 
 garden into the little yard, with a watering-pot in 
 her hand, just as Royal and Lucy came out of 
 the house. 
 
 She stopped Lucy, and asked her what was the 
 matter. 
 
 " Why, Miss Anne," said Lucy, " Royal keeps 
 laughing at me." 
 
 Miss Anne looked around to see Royal. He 
 had gone and seated himself upon a bench under 
 an apple-tree, and seemed entirely out of breath 
 and exhausted ; though his face was still full of 
 half-suppressed glee. 
 
 " What is the matter, Royal ? " said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Why, he is laughing at my school," said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " No, I am not laughing at her school," said 
 Royal ; " but she was going to give out a hymn, 
 and she said " 
 
 Royal could not get any further. The fit oi 
 laughter came over him again, and he lay down 
 upon the bench, unable to give any farther account 
 of it, except to get out the words, " Long part ! 
 O dear me ! What shall I do ? " 
 
THE JREASURY. 13 
 
 Royal ! " exclaimed Lucy. 
 
 * Never mind him," said Miss Anne ; " lei 
 tk-n laugh if he will, and you come with me." 
 
 " Why, where are you going ? " 
 
 * Into my room. Come, go in with me, and I 
 will talk with you." 
 
 So Miss Anne took Lucy along with her into 
 a little back bedroom. There was a window at 
 one side, and a table, with books, and an inkstand, 
 and a work-basket upon it. Miss \nne sat down 
 at this window, and took her work; and Lucy 
 came and leaned against her, and said, 
 
 " Come, Miss Anne, you said you would talk 
 with me." 
 
 " Well," said Miss Anne, " there is one thing 
 which I do not like." 
 
 " What is it ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, you do not keep your treasury in order." 
 
 " Well, that," said Lucy, " is because I have 
 got so many things." 
 
 " Then I would not have so many things ; — 
 at least I would not keep them all in my treasury." 
 
 "Well, Miss Anne, if you would only keep 
 some of them for me, — then I could keep the 
 rest in order." 
 
 " What sort of things should you wish me to 
 keep ? " 
 
14 LUcVs CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 4 'Why, my best things, — my tea-set, I am 
 sure, so that I shall not lose any more of them ; 
 I have lost some of them now — one cup and 
 two saucers ; and the handle of the pitcher is 
 broken. Royal broke it. He said he would pay 
 me, but he never has." 
 
 u How was he going to pay you ! " 
 
 " Why, he said he would make a new nose for 
 old Margaret. Her nose is all worn off." 
 
 "A new nose! How could he make a new 
 nose ? " asked Miss Anne. 
 
 " O, of putty. He said he could make it of 
 putt3 T , and stick it on." 
 
 " Putty ! " exclaimed Miss Anne. " What a 
 boy!" 
 
 Old Margaret was an old doll that Lucy had. 
 She was not big enough to take very good care 
 of a doll, and old Margaret had been tumbled 
 about the floors and carpets until she was pretty 
 well worn out. Still, however, Lucy alvva3~s 
 kept her, with her other playthings, in her 
 treasury. 
 
 The place which Lucy called her treasury was 
 a part of a closet or wardrobe, in a back entrj-, 
 very near Miss Anne's room. This closet ex- 
 tended down to the floor, and upwards nearly to 
 the wall. There were two doors above, and two 
 below. The lower part had been assigned to 
 
tfHE TREASURY. 15 
 
 Lucy, to keep her playthings and her vanous 
 treasures in ; and it was called her treasury. 
 
 Her treasury was not kept in very good order. 
 The upper shelf contained books, and the two 
 lower, playthings. But all three of the shelves 
 were in a state of sad disorder. And this was the 
 reason why Miss Anne asked her about it. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Anne," said Lucy, " that is the 
 very difficulty, I know. I have got too many 
 things in my treasury ; and if you will keep my 
 best things for me, then I shall have room for the 
 rest. I'll run and get my tea things." 
 
 " But stop," said Miss Anne. It seems to me 
 that you had better keep your best things your- 
 self, and put the others away somewhere." 
 
 " But where shall I put them ? " a~>ked Lucy. 
 
 " Why, you might carry them up garret, and 
 put them in a box. Take out all the broken 
 olay things, and the old papers, and the things of 
 no value, and put them in a box, and then we 
 will get Royal to nail a cover on it." 
 
 " Well, — if I only had a box," said Lucy. 
 
 " And then," continued Miss Anne, " after a 
 good while, when you have forgotten all about the 
 oox, and have got tired of your playthings in the 
 treasury, I can say, ' O Lucy, don't you re- 
 member you have got a box full of playthings up in 
 
16 lucy's conversations. 
 
 the garret ? ' And then you can go up there, and 
 Royal will draw out the nails, and take off the 
 cover, and you can look them all over, and they 
 will be new again." 
 
 " O aunt Anne, will they be really new 
 again?" said Lucy; "would old Margaret be 
 new again if I should nail her up in a box ? " 
 
 Lucy thought that new meant nice, and whole, 
 and clean, like things when they are first bought 
 at the toy-shop or bookstore. 
 
 Miss Anne laughed at this mistake; for she 
 meant that they would be new to her; that is, 
 that she would have forgotten pretty much how 
 they looked, and that she would take a new and 
 fresh interest in looking at them. 
 
 Lucy looked a little disappointed when Anne 
 explained that this was her meaning; but she 
 said that she would carry up some of the things 
 to the garret, if she only had a box to put them in, 
 
 Miss Anne said that she presumed that she 
 could find some box or old trunk up there ; and 
 she gave Lucy a basket to put the things into, 
 that were to be carried up. 
 
 So Lucy took the basket, and carried it into the 
 entry ; and she opened the doors of her treasury 
 and placed the basket down upon the floor be- 
 fore it 
 
ttiE TREASURY. 1? 
 
 Then she kneeled down herself apon the oar- 
 pet, and began to take a survey of the scene of 
 confusion before her. 
 
 She took out several blocks, which were lyin.» 
 upon the lower shelf, and also some large sheets 
 of paper with great letters printed upon them. 
 Her father had given them to her to cut the let- 
 ters out, and paste them into little books. Next 
 came a saucer, with patches of red, blue, green, 
 and yellow, all over it, made with water colors, 
 from Miss Anne's paint-box. She put these 
 things into the basket, and then sat still for some 
 minutes, not knowing what to take next. Not 
 being able to decide herself, she went back to ask 
 Miss Anne. 
 
 " What things do you think 1 had better carry 
 away, Miss Anne ? " said she. " I can't tell very 
 well." 
 
 " 1 don't know what things you have got there, 
 exactly," said Miss Anne ; " but 1 can tell you 
 what kind of things I should take away." 
 
 " Well, what kind ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, 1 should take the bulky things." 
 
 " Bulky things ! " said Lucy ; " what are bulky 
 things ? " 
 
 " Why, big things — those that take up a great 
 deal of room." 
 
18 lucy's conversations. 
 
 u Well, what other kinds of things, Miss Anne ? " 
 
 " The useless things." 
 
 " Useless ? " repeated Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, those that you do not use much." 
 
 ••' Well, what others ? " 
 
 " All the old, broken tilings." 
 
 " Well, and what else ? " 
 
 '< Why, I think," replied Miss Anne, " that il 
 you take away all those, you will then probably 
 have room enough for the rest. At any rate, go 
 and get a basket full of such as I have told you, 
 and we will see how much room it makes." 
 
 So Lucy went back, and began to take out 
 some of the broken, and useless, and large things, 
 and at length filled her basket full. Then she 
 carried them in to show to Miss Anne. Miss 
 Anne looked them over, and took out some old 
 papers which were of no value whatever, and 
 then told Lucy, that, if she would carry them up 
 stairs, and put them down upon the garret floor, 
 she would herself come up by and by, and find a 
 l)ox to put them in. Lucy did so, and then came 
 down v intending to get another basket full. 
 
 As she was descending the stairs, coming down 
 carefully from step to step, with one hand upon 
 the banisters, and the other holding her basket, 
 singing a little song, — her mother, who was at 
 
THE TREASURY. 16 
 
 work in the parlor, heard her, and came out into 
 the entry. 
 
 " Ah, my little Miss Lucy," said she, " I've 
 found you, have I ? Just come into the parlor a 
 minute ; I want to show you something." 
 
 Lucy's mother smiled when she said this ; and 
 Lucy could not imagine what it was that she 
 wanted to show her. 
 
 As soon, however, as she got into the room, 
 her mother stopped by the door, and pointed to 
 the little chairs and crickets which Lucy had left 
 out upon the floor of the room, when she had dis- 
 missed her school. The rule was, that she must 
 always put away all the chairs and furniture of 
 every kind which she used in her play ; and, 
 when she forgot or neglected this, her punishment 
 was, to be imprisoned for ten minutes upon a little 
 cricket in the comer, with nothing to amuse her- 
 self with but a book. And a book was not much 
 amusement for her ; for she could not read ; she 
 only knew a few of her letters. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as she saw her mother point- 
 ing at the crickets and chairs, she began at once 
 to excuse herself by saying, 
 
 " Well, mother, that is because I was doing 
 something for Miss Anne. — No, it is because 
 
20 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 Royal made me go away from my school, be- 
 fore it was done." 
 
 " Royal made you go away ! how ? " asked her 
 mother. 
 
 " Why, he laughed at me, and so I ran aftei 
 him ; and then Miss Anne took me into her room 
 and I forgot all about my chairs and crickets. ,, 
 
 " Well, I am sony for you ; but you must put 
 them away, and then go to prison." 
 
 So Lucy put away her crickets and chairs, and 
 then went and took her seat in the corner where 
 she could see the clock, and began to look over 
 her book to find such letters as she knew, until 
 the minute-hand had passed over two of the five- 
 minute spaces upon the face of the clock. Then. 
 *he got up and went out ; and, hearing Royal's 
 voice in the yard, she went out to see what he 
 was doing, and forgot all about the work she had 
 undertaken at her treasury. Miss Anne sat in 
 her room two hours, wondering what had become 
 of Lucy ; and finally, when she came out of her 
 room to see about getting tea, she shut the treasury 
 doors, and, seeing the basket upon the stairs, where 
 Lucy had left it, she took it and put it away in 
 ils place. 
 
DEFINITIONS. £1 
 
 CONVERSATION II 
 
 DEFINITIONS. 
 
 A few days alter this, Lucy came into Miss 
 Anne's room, bringing a little gray kitten in her 
 arms. She asked Miss Anne if she would not 
 make her a rolling mouse, for her kitten to play 
 with. 
 
 Miss Anne had a way of unwinding a ball of 
 yarn a little, and then fastening it with a pin, so 
 that it would not unwind any farther. Then 
 Lucy could take hold of the end of the yarn, and 
 roll the ball about upon the floor, and let the 
 kitten ran after it. She called it her rolling mouse. 
 
 Miss Anne made her a mouse, and Lucy played 
 with it for some time. At last the kitten scam- 
 pered away, and Lucy could not find her. Then 
 Anne proposed to Lucy that she should finish the 
 work of re-arranging her treasury. 
 
 " Let me see," said Miss Anne, " if you re- 
 member what I told you the other day. What 
 were die kinds of things that I advised vou tc 
 cany away ? " 
 
22 
 
 " Why, there were the sulky things." 
 
 " The what ! " said Miss Anne. 
 
 " No, the big things, — the big things," said 
 Lucy. 
 
 "The bulky things," said Miss Anne, "no! 
 the sulky things ! " 
 
 " Well, it sounded like sulky" said Lucy ; 
 " but I thought it was not exactly that." 
 
 " No, not exactly, — but it was not a very great 
 mistake. 1 said useless things, and bulky things, 
 and you got the sounds confounded." 
 
 " Con — what ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Confounded, — that is, mixed together. Yoi 
 got the s sound of useless, instead of the b sound 
 of bulky ; but bulky and sulky mean very different 
 things." 
 
 " What does sulky mean ? I know that bulky 
 means big." 
 
 " Sulkiness is a kind of ill-humor." 
 
 "What kind?" 
 
 " Why, it is the silent kind. If a little girl 
 who is out of humor, complains and cries, we say 
 she is fretful or cross ; but if she goes away 
 pouting and still, but yet plainly out of humor, 
 they sometimes say she is sulky. A good many 
 of your playthings are bulky ; but I don't think 
 
DEFINITIONS. 23 
 
 any of them are sulky, unless it be old Marga 
 ret. Does she ever get out of humor ? " 
 
 " Sometimes," said Lucy, " and then 1 shut 
 her up in a corner. Would you carry old Mar- 
 garet up garret ? " 
 
 " Why, she takes up a good deal of room, does 
 not she? " said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, " ever so much room. 1 
 cannot make her sit up, and she lies down all over 
 my cups and saucers." 
 
 " Then I certainly would carry her up garret." 
 
 "And would you carry up her bonnet and 
 shawl too ? " 
 
 " Yes, all that belongs to her." 
 
 " Then," said Lucy, " whenever I want to 
 play with her, I shall have to go away up garret, 
 to get all her things." 
 
 " Very well ; you can do just as you think best " 
 
 " Well, would you ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " I should, myself, if I were in vour case ; and 
 only keep such things in my treasuiv as are neat, 
 and whole, and in good order." 
 
 " But I play with old Margaret a great deal, — 
 almost every day," said Lucy. 
 
 " Perhaps, then, you had better not carry her 
 away. Do just which you think you shall like 
 best." 
 
24 lucy's conversations. 
 
 Lucy began to walk towards the aoor She 
 moved quite slowly, because she was uncertain 
 whether to cany her old doll up stairs or not. 
 Presently she turned around again, and said ; 
 
 " Well, Miss Anne, which would you do ? " 
 
 " I have told you that / should carry her up 
 stairs ; but I'll tell you what you can do. You 
 can play that she has gone away on a visit ; and 
 so let her stay up garret a few days, and then, if 
 you find you cannot do without her, you can make 
 believe that, you must send for her to come home." 
 
 " So I can," said Lucy ; " that will be a good 
 plan." 
 
 Lucy went immediately to the treasury, and 
 took old Margaret out, and everything that be- 
 longed to her. This almost made a basket full, 
 and she carried it off up stairs. Then she came 
 back, and got another basket full, and another, 
 until at last she had removed nearly half of the 
 things ; and then she thought that there would be 
 plenty of room to keep the rest in order. And 
 every basket full which she had carried up, she 
 had always brought first to Miss Anne, to let her 
 look over the things, and see whether they had 
 better all go. Sometimes Lucy had got some- 
 thing in her basket which Miss Anne thought had 
 better remain, and be kept in the treasury ; and 
 
DEFINITIONS. 25 
 
 some of the things Miss Anne said were good for 
 nothing at all, and had better be burnt, or thrown 
 away, such as old papers, and some shapeless 
 blocks, and broken bits of china ware. At last 
 the work was all done, the basket put away, and 
 Lucy came and sat down by Miss Anne. 
 
 "Well, Lucy," said Miss Anne, "you have 
 been quite industrious and persevering." 
 
 Lucy did not know exactly what Miss Anne 
 meant by these words ; but she knew by her 
 countenance and her tone of voice, that it was 
 something in her praise. 
 
 " But perhaps you do not know what I mean, 
 exactly," she added. 
 
 " No, not exactly," said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, a girl is industrious when she keeps 
 steadily at work all the time, until her work is 
 done. If you had stopped when you had got 
 your basket half full, and had gone to playing 
 with the things, you would not have been indus- 
 trious." 
 
 " 1 did, a little, — with my guinea peas," said 
 1 iucy. 
 
 " It is best," said Miss Anne, " when you have 
 anything like that to do, to keep industriously at 
 work until it is finished." 
 3 
 
26 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 " But I only wanted to look at my guinea ixras 
 a little." 
 
 " O, I don't think that was very wrong," saia 
 Miss Anne. "Only it would have been a lttle 
 better if you had put them back upon the shelf, 
 md said, ' Now, as soon as I have finished n y 
 work, then I'll take out my guinea peas and look 
 at them.' You would have enjoyed looking at 
 them more when your work was done." 
 
 " You said that I was something else besides 
 industrious." 
 
 " Yes, persevering," said Miss Anne. 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " Why, that is keeping on steadily at youi 
 work, and not giving it up until it is entirely fin- 
 ished." 
 
 " Why, Miss Anne," said Lucy, " T thought 
 that was industrious." 
 
 Here Miss Anne began to laugh, and Lucy 
 said, 
 
 " Now, what are you laughing at, Miss Anne ? ' 
 She thought that she was laughing at her. 
 
 " O, I am not laughing at you, but at my owr 
 definitions." 
 
 " Definitions ! What are definitions, Mis* 
 Anne?" said Lucy. 
 
DEFINITIONS. 27 
 
 " Why, explanations of the meanings of words. 
 You asked me what was the meaning of indns- 
 trious and persevering ; and I tried to explain 
 them to you ; that is, to tell you the definition of 
 them ; but I gave pretty much the same definition 
 for both ; when, in fact, they mean quite different 
 things." 
 
 " Then why did not you give me different def- 
 initions, Miss Anne ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " It is very hard to give good definitions," 
 said she. 
 
 " I should not think it would be hard. I should 
 think, if you knew what the words meant, you 
 could just tell me." 
 
 " I can tell you in another way," said Miss 
 Anne. " Suppose a boy should be sent into the 
 pasture to find the cow, and should look about a 
 little while, and then come home and say that he 
 could not find her, when he had only looked over 
 a very small part of the pasture. He would not 
 be persevering. Perhaps there was a brook, and 
 some woods that he ought to go through and look 
 beyond ; but he gave up, we will suppose, and 
 thought he would not go over the brook, but 
 would rather come home and say that he could 
 not find the cow. Now, a boy, in such a case, 
 would not be persevering." 
 
28 LUCY S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 " I should have liked to go over the brook," 
 said Lucy. 
 
   f Yes," said Miss Anne, " no doubt ; but we 
 may suppose that he had been over it so often, 
 eliat he did not care about going again, — and so 
 ne turned back and came home, without having 
 finished his work." 
 
 " His work ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, — his duty, of looking for the cow until 
 he found her. He was sent to find the cow, but 
 he did not do it. He became discouraged, and 
 gave up too easily. He did not persevere. Per- 
 haps he kept looking about all the time, while he 
 was in the pasture ; and went into all the little 
 groves and valleys where the cow might be hid ; 
 and so he was industrious while he was look- 
 ing for the cow, but he did not persevere. 
 
 " And so you see, Lucy," continued Miss Anne, 
 u a person might persevere without being indus- 
 trious. For once there was a girl named Julia. 
 She had a flower-garden. She- went out one 
 morning to weed it. She pulled up some of the 
 weeds, and then she went off to see a butterfly ; 
 and after a time she came back, and worked a 
 little longer. Then son e children came to see 
 her ; and she sat down upon a seat, and talked with 
 them some time, and left her work. In this way 
 
DEFINITIONS. 29 
 
 she kept continually stopping to play. She was 
 not industrious." 
 
 "And did she per sever e'V asked Lucy. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Anne. "She persevered. 
 For when the other children wanted her to go 
 away with them and play, she would not. She 
 said she did not mean to go out of the garden 
 until she had finished weeding her flowers. So, 
 after the children had gone away, she went back 
 to her work, and after a time she got it done. 
 She was persevering ; that is, she would not give 
 up what she had undertaken until it was finished ; 
 — but she was not industrious ; that is, she did 
 not work all the time steadily, while she was en- 
 gaged in doing it. It would have been better for 
 her to have been industrious and persevering 
 too, for then she would have finished her work 
 sooner." 
 
 As Miss Anne said these words, she heard a 
 voice out in the yard calling to her. 
 
 "Miss Anne!" 
 
 Miss Anne looked out at the window to see 
 who it was. It was Royal. 
 
 ' c Is Lucy in there with you ? " asked Royal. 
 
 Miss Anne said that she was ; and at the same 
 time, Lucy, who heard Royal's voice, ran to 
 another window, and climbed up into a chair, so 
 that she could look out. 
 
30 
 
 " Lucy," said Rdyal, " come out here." 
 
 " O, no," said Lucy. " I can't come now. 
 Miss Anne is telling me stories." 
 
 Royal was seated on a large, flat stone, which 
 had been placed in a corner of the yard, under 
 some trees, for a seat ; he was cutting a stick with 
 his knife. His cap was lying upon the stone, by 
 his side. When Lucy said that she could not 
 come out, he put his hand down upon his cap, 
 and said, 
 
 '• Come out and see what I *ve got under my 
 cap." 
 
 " What is it?" said Lucy. 
 
 " I can't tell you ; it is a secret. If you will 
 come out, I will let you see it." 
 
 " Do tell me what it is." 
 
 " No," said Royal. 
 
 " Tell me something about it," said Lucy, u at 
 any rate." 
 
 "Well," said Royal, "I will tell you one 
 thing, it is not a bird." 
 
 Lucy concluded that it must be some curious 
 animal or other, if it was not a bird ; and so she 
 told Miss Anne that she believed she would go 
 out and see, and then she would come in again 
 directly, and hear the rest that she had to say. 
 So she went out to see what Royal had got under 
 his cap. 
 
DEFINITION'S. 33 
 
 Miss Anne suspected that Royal had not got 
 anything under his cap ; but that it was only his 
 contrivance to excite Lucy's curiosity, and induce 
 her to come out. 
 
 And this turned out to be the fact ; for, when 
 Lucy went up to where Royal was sitting, and 
 asked him what it was, he just lifted up his cap, 
 and said, it was that monstrous, great, flat stone ! 
 
 At first, Lucy was displeased, and was going 
 directly back into the house again ; but Royal 
 told her that he was making a windmill, and that, 
 if she would stay there and keep him company, 
 he would let her run with it, when it was done. 
 So Lucy concluded to remain. 
 
34 lucy's conversations. 
 
 CONVERSATION III. 
 THE GLEN. 
 
 Behind the house that Lucy lived in, there 
 was a path, winding among trees, which was a very 
 pleasant path to take a walk in. Lucy and Roy- 
 al often went to take a walk there. They almost 
 always went that way when Miss Anne could go 
 with them, for she liked the place very much. It 
 led to a strange sort of a place, where there were 
 trees, and high, rocky banks, and a brook running 
 along in the middle, with a broad plank to go 
 across. Miss Anne called it the glen. 
 
 One morning Miss Anne told Lucy that she 
 was going to be busy for two hours, and that after 
 that she was goinof to take a walk down to the 
 glen ; and that Lucy might go with her, if she 
 would like to go. Of course Lucy liked the plan 
 very much. When the time arrived, they set off, 
 going out through the garden gate. Miss Anne 
 had a parasol in one hand and a book in the other. 
 Lucy ran along be ore her, and opened the gate. 
 
 They heard a voice behind them calling out 
 
THE GLFN. 35 
 
 " Miss Anne, where are you going ? " 
 
 They looked round. It was Royal, sitting a 
 the window of a Hide room, where he used to 
 study. 
 
 " We are going to take a walk, — down to the 
 glen," said Miss Anne. 
 
 " I wish you would wait for me," said Royal, 
 " only a few minutes ; the sand is almost out." 
 
 He meant the sand of his hour-glass ; for he had 
 an hour-glass upon the table, in his little room, to 
 measure the time for study. He had to study one 
 hour in the afternoon, and was not allowed to 
 leave his room until the sand had all run out. 
 
 " No," said Lucy, in a loud voice, calling out 
 to Royal ; " we can't wait." 
 
 " Perhaps we had better wait for him," said 
 Miss Anne, in a low voice, to Lucy. " He would 
 like to go with us. And, besides, he can help you 
 across the brook." 
 
 Lucy seemed a little unwilling to wait, but on 
 the whole she consented; and Miss Anne sat 
 down upon a seat in the garden, while Lucy 
 played about in the walks, until Royal came 
 down, with his hatchet in his hand. They then 
 walked all along together. 
 
 When chey got to the glen, Miss Anne went 
 up a w : nding path to a seat, where she used to 
 
36 lucy's conversations. 
 
 love to sit and read. There was a beautiful pros- 
 pect from it, all around. Royal and Lucy re- 
 mained down in the little valley to play ; but Miss 
 Anne told them that they must not go out of her 
 sight. 
 
 " But how can we tell," said Royal, " what 
 places you can see ? " 
 
 " O," said Miss Anne, " look up now and then, 
 and if you can see me, in my seat, you will be 
 safe. If you can see me, I can see you." 
 
 " Come," said Royal, " let us go down to the 
 bridge, and go across the brook." 
 
 The plank which Royal called a bridge, was 
 down below the place where Miss Anne went up 
 to her seat, and Royal and Lucy began to walk 
 along slowly towards it. 
 
 " But I am afraid to go over that plank," said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " Afraid ! " said Royal ; " you need not be 
 afraid ; it is not dangerous." 
 
 " I think it is dangerous," said Lucy ; " it bends 
 a great deal." 
 
 " Bends ! " exclaimed Royal " the bending 
 does no harm. I will lead you over as safe as 
 dry ground. Besides, there is something ovei 
 there that I want to show you " 
 
 "What is it?" said Lucy. 
 
THE GLEN. 37 
 
 " O, something," said Royal. 
 
 " I don't believe there is anything at all," saic 
 Lacy, " any more than there was under your cap." 
 
 "O Lucy! there was something under my 
 cap." 
 
 k < No, there wasn't," said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, that great, flat stone." 
 
 " In your cap, I mean," said Lucy ; " that 
 wasn't in your cap." 
 
 " In ! " said Royal ; " that is a very different 
 sort of a preposition." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean by a preposi- 
 tion," said Lucy ; " but I know you told me there 
 was something in your cap, and that is what I 
 came out to see." 
 
 " Under, Lucy ; I said under" 
 
 " Well, you meant in ; I verily believe you 
 meant in." 
 
 Lucy was right. Royal did indeed say under, 
 but he meant to have her understand that there 
 was something in his cap, and lying upon the 
 great, flat stone. 
 
 " And so you told me a falsehood," said Lucy. 
 
 " O Lucy ! " said Royal, " I would not tell a 
 falsehood for all the world." 
 
 " Yes, you told me a falsehood ; and now 1 
 don't believe you about anything over the brook. 
 
38 LUCYS CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 For Miss Anne told me, one day, that when any- 
 body told a falsehood, we must not believe then, 
 even if they tell the truth." 
 
 " O Lucy ! Lucy ! " said Royal, " I don't be* 
 lieve she ever said any such a word." 
 
 " Yes she did," said Lucy. But Lucy said 
 rfiis rather hesitatingly, for she felt some doubt 
 whether she was quoting what Miss Anne had 
 told her, quite correctly. 
 
 Here, however, the children arrived at the bridge, 
 and Royal was somewhat at a loss what to do. 
 He wanted very much to go over, and to have 
 Lucy go over too ; but by his not being perfectly 
 honest before, about what was under his cap, 
 Lucy had lost her confidence in him, and would 
 not believe what he said. At first he thought 
 that if she would not go with him, he would 
 threaten to go off and leave her. But in a mo- 
 ment he reflected that this would make her cry, 
 and that would cause Miss Anne to come down 
 from her seat, to see what was the matter, which 
 might lead to ever so much difficulty. Besides, he 
 thought that he had not done exactly right about 
 the cap story, and so he determined to treat Lucy 
 kindly. 
 
 "If I manage gently with her," said he to him 
 self, "she will want to come across herself pretty 
 soon.' ' 
 
THE GLEN. 39 
 
 Accordingly, when Royal got to the plank, he 
 said, 
 
 " Well, Lucy, if you had rather stay on this 
 side, you can. I want to go over, but I won't go 
 very far ; and you can play about here." 
 
 So Royal went across upon the plank ; when 
 he had got to the middle of it, he sprang up and 
 down upon it with his whole weight, in order to 
 show Iiucy how strong it was. He then walked 
 along by the bank, upon the other side of the 
 brook, and began to look into the water, watching 
 for fishes. 
 
 Lucy's curiosity became considerably excited by 
 what Royal was constantly saying about his fishes 
 First he said he saw a dozen little fishes ; then, 
 going a little farther, he saw two pretty big 
 ones ; and Lucy came down to the bank upon 
 her side of the brook, but she could not get very 
 near, on account of the bushes. She had a great 
 mind to ask Royal to come and help her across, 
 when all at once he called out very eagerly, 
 
 " O Lucy ! Lucy ! here is a great turtle, •— a 
 monster of a turtle, as big as the top of n»y head 
 Here he goes, paddling along over the stones." 
 
 " Where ? where ? " said Lucy. " Let me see. 
 Come and help me across, Royal." 
 
 Royal ran back to the plank, keeping a watch 
 
40 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 over tlie turtle, as well as he could, all the time 
 He helped Lucy across, and then they ran up to 
 the place, and Royal pointed into the water. 
 
 " There, Lucy ! See there ! A real turtle ! See 
 his tail ! It is as sharp as a dagger." 
 
 It was true. There was a real turtle resting 
 upon the sand in a shallow place in the water. 
 His head and his four paws were projecting out 
 of his shell, and his long, pointed tail, like a rud- 
 der, floated in the water behind. 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy. " I see him. I see his 
 head." 
 
 " Now, Lucy," said Royal, " we must not let 
 him get away. We must make a pen for him. I 
 can make a pen. You stay here and watch him, 
 while I go and get ready to make a pen." 
 
 " How can you make it? " said Luc). 
 
 " O, you'll see," said Royal ; and he took up 
 his hatchet, which he had before laid down upon 
 the grass, and Vent into the bushes, and began 
 cutting, as if he was cutting some of them down 
 
 Lucy remained some time watching the turtle. 
 He lay quite still, with his head partly out of the 
 water. The sun shone upon the place, and per 
 haps that was the reason why he remained si 
 still ; for turtles are said to like to bask in th» 
 beams of the sun. 
 
THE GLEN. 4l 
 
 After a time, Royal came to the place with an 
 armiul of stakes, about three feet long. He threw 
 them down upon xhe bank, and then began to 
 look around for a suitable place to build his pen. 
 He chose, at last, a place in the water, near the 
 shore. The water there was not deep, and the 
 bottom was sandy. 
 
 " This will be a good place," he said to Lucy 
 •' I will make his pen here." 
 
 " How are you going to make it? " said Lucy 
 
 u Why, I am going to drive these stakes down 
 in a kind of a circle, so near together that he can't 
 get out between them ; and they are so tall that 
 L know he can't get over." 
 
 "And how are you going to get him in?" 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " O, I shall leave one stake out, till I get him 
 in," answered Royal. "We can drive him in 
 with long sticks. But you must not mind me ; 
 you must watch the turtle, or he will get away." 
 
 So Royal began to drive the stakes. Pres- 
 ently Lucy said that the turtle was stirring. 
 Royal looked, but he found he was not going 
 away, and so he went on with his work ; and be- 
 fore long he had a place fenced in with his stakes, 
 about as large round as a boy's hoop. It waj 
 4* 
 
42 
 
 all fenced, excepting in one place, which he left 
 open to get the turtle through. 
 
 The two children then contrived, by means of 
 two long sticks, which Royal cut from among the 
 bushes, to get the turtle into his prison. The 
 poor reptile hardly knew what to make of such 
 treatment. He went tumbling along through the 
 water, half pushed, half driven. 
 
 When he was fairly in, Royal drove down the 
 last stake in the vacant space which had been 
 left. The turtle swam about, pushing his head 
 against the bars in several places; and when 
 he found that he could not get out, he remained 
 quietly in the middle. 
 
 " There," said Royal, " that will do. Now 1 
 wish Miss Anne would come down here, and see 
 him. I should like to see what she would say." 
 
 Miss Anne did come down after a while ; 
 and when the children saw her descending the 
 path, they called out to her aloud to come there 
 and see. She came, and when she reached the 
 bank opposite to the turtle pen, she stood still for 
 a few minutes, looking at it, with a smile of cu- 
 riosity and interest upon her face ; but she did not 
 speak a word. 
 
A PRISONER. 43 
 
 CONVERSATION IV. 
 A PRISONER. 
 
 After a little while, they all left the turtle, and 
 went rambling around, among the rocks and tree'*. 
 At last Royal called out to them to come to a 
 large tree, where he was standing. He was look 
 ing up into it. Lucy ran fast ; she thought it 
 was a bird's nest. Miss Anne came along after- 
 wards, singing. Royal showed them a long, 
 straight branch, which extended out horizontally 
 from the tree, and said that it would be an excel- 
 lent place to make a swing. 
 
 " So it would," said Miss Anne, " if we only 
 had a rope." 
 
 "I've got a rope at home," said Royal, " if 
 Lucy would only go and get it, — while I cut off 
 some of the small branches, which are in the 
 way. 
 
 " Come, Lucy," he continued, " go and gel 
 my rope. It is hanging up in the shed." 
 
 " O no," said Lucy ; " 1 can't reach it." 
 
 " O, vou can get a chair," said Royal ; " or 
 
44 
 
 L.UCY S CONVLUSATIONS. 
 
 Jol -.na will hand it to you ; she will be close by # 
 in tie kitchen. Come, Lucy, go, that is a goo^ 
 girl ; and I'll pay you." 
 
 " What will you give me?" said Lucy. 
 
 " O, I don't know ; but I'll give you some- 
 thing." 
 
 But Lucy did not seem quite inclined to go. 
 She said she did not want to go so far alone ; 
 though, in fact, it was only a very short distance. 
 Besides, she had not much confidence in Royal's 
 promise. 
 
 •'' Will you go, Lucy, if / will promise to give 
 you something ? " said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy. 
 
 "Well, I will," said Miss Anne; "I can't 
 tell you what, now, for I don't know ; but it 
 shall be something you will like. 
 
 " But, Royal," she added, " what shall we do 
 for a seat m our swing ? " 
 
 " Why, we must have a board — a short 
 board, with two notches. I know how to cut 
 them." 
 
 " Yes, if you only had a board ; but there are 
 no boards down here. I think you had better go 
 with Lucy, and then you can bring down s 
 board." 
 
 Royal said that it would take some time to saw 
 
A PRISONER. 4.5 
 
 off the board, and cut the notches ; and, finally, 
 they concluded to postpone making the swing 
 until the next time they came down to the glen ; 
 and then they would bring down whatever should 
 be necessary, with them. 
 
 As they were walking slowly along, after this, 
 towards home, Royal said something about Lu- 
 cy's not being willing to go for his promise, as 
 well as for Miss Anne's, — which led to the fol- 
 lowing conversation : — 
 
 Lucy. I don't believe you were going to give 
 me anything at all. 
 
 Royal. O Lucy ! — I was, — I certainly was. 
 
 Lucy. Then I don't believe that it would be 
 inything that 1 should like. 
 
 Royal. But I don't see how you could tell 
 anything about it, unless you knew what it was 
 going to be. 
 
 Luct, . I don't believe it would be anything ; 
 do you, Miss Anne ? 
 
 Miss Anne. I don't know anything about it, 
 I should not think that Royal would break hia 
 promise. 
 
 Lucy. He does break his promises. He won't 
 mend old Margaret's nose. 
 
 Royal. Well, Lucy, that is because m> 
 
46 
 
 putty has all dried up. I am going to do it, just 
 as soon as I can get any more putty. 
 
 Lucy, And that makes me think about the 
 thing in your cap. I mean to ask Miss Anne if 
 you did not tell a falsehood. He said there was 
 something in his cap, and there was nothing in 
 it at all. It was only on the great, flat stone. 
 
 Royal, O, under, Lucy, under, I certainly 
 said under, 
 
 Lucy, Well, you meant in ; I know you did 
 Wasn't it a falsehood ? 
 
 Miss Anne, Did he say in, or under 1 
 
 Royal. Under, under ; it was ^ertainly under. 
 
 Miss Anne. Then I don't think it was exact- 
 ly a falsehood. 
 
 Lucy, Well, it was as bad as a falsehood, at 
 any rate. 
 
 Royal. Was it as bad as a falsehood, Mis* 
 Anne? 
 
 Miss Anne, Let us consider a little. Lucy, 
 what do you think ? Suppose he had said that 
 there was really something in his cap, — do you 
 think it would have been no worse ? 
 
 Lucy. I don't know. 
 
 Miss Anne. I think it would have been worse 
 
 Royal. Yes, a great deal worse. 
 
A PRISONER. 4? 
 
 Miss Anne. He deceived you, perhaps, bit he 
 did not tell a falsehood. 
 
 Lucy. Well, Miss Anne, and isn't it wrong 
 for him to deceive me ? 
 
 Miss Anne. I think it was unwise, at any rate 
 
 Royal. Why was it unwise, Miss Anne? 1 
 wanted her to come >ut, and I knew she would 
 like to be out there, ii she would only once come. 
 Besides, I thought it vould make her laugh when 
 I came to lift up my cap and show her that great, 
 flat stone. 
 
 Miss Anne. And did she laugh ? 
 
 Royal. Why, not much. She said she meant 
 to go right into the house again. 
 
 Miss Anne. Instead of being pleased with the 
 wit, she was displeased at being imposed upon 
 
 Royal laughed. 
 
 Miss Anne. The truth is, Royal, that, though 
 it is rather easier, sometimes, to get along by wit 
 than by honesty, yet you generally have to 
 pay for it afterwards. 
 
 Royal. How do we have to pay for it ? 
 
 Miss Anne. Why, Lucy has lost her confi- 
 dence in you. You rannot get her to go and get 
 a rope for ycu by merely promising her something, 
 while 1 can. She confides in me, and not in 
 you. She is afraid you will find some ingenious 
 
48 lucy's conversations. 
 
 escape or other from fulfilling it. Wit gives any- 
 body a present advantage, but honesty gives a last- 
 ing power ; so that the influence I have ovei 
 Lucy, by always being honest with her, is worth 
 a great deal more than all you can accomplish 
 with your contrivances. So I think you had bet- 
 ter keep your wits and your contrivances for tur- 
 tles, and always be honest with men. 
 
 Royal. Men ! Lucy isn't a man. 
 
 Miss Anne. I mean mankind — men, women, 
 and children. 
 
 Royal. Well, about my turtle, Miss Anne. 
 Do you think that I can keep him in his pen ? 
 
 Miss Anne. Yes, unless he digs out. 
 
 Royal. Dig ? — Can turtles dig much ? 
 
 Miss Anne. I presume they can work into 
 mud, and sand, and soft ground. 
 
 Royal. Then I must get a great, flat stone, 
 and put into the bottom of his pen. He can't dig 
 through that. 
 
 Miss Anne. I should rather make his pen 
 larger, and then perhaps he won't want to get out. 
 You might find some cove in the brook, where the 
 water is deep, for him, and then drive your stakes 
 in the shallow water all around it. And then, if 
 you choose, you could extend it up upon the 
 shore, and ro let him have a walk upon the land, 
 
A. PRISONER. 49 
 
 within his bounds. Then, perhaps, sometimes, 
 vvhen you come down to see him, you may find 
 him up upon the grass, sunning himself* 
 
 Royal. Yes, that I shall like veiy much. It 
 will take a great many stakes ; but I can cut them 
 with my hatchet. I'll call it my turtle pasture. 
 Perhaps I shall find some more to put in. 
 
 Lucy. I don't think it is yours, altogether 
 Royal. 
 
 Royal. Why, I found him. 
 
 Lucy. Yes, but I watched him for you, or 
 else he would have got away. I think you ought 
 ju let me own a share. 
 
 Royal. But I made the pen altogether my- 
 self. 
 
 Lucy. And I helped you drive the turtle in. 
 
 Royal. O Lucy ! I don't think you did much 
 good. 
 
 Miss Aune. I'll tell you what, Lucy ; if Roy- 
 al found the turtle and made the pen, and if you 
 watched him and helped drive him in, then J 
 think you ought to own about one third, and Roy 
 dl two thirds. 
 
 Royal Well. 
 
 Miss Anne. But, then, Royal, why would it 
 not be a good plan for you to let her have as 
 much of your share as will make hers half, and 
 
50 
 
 yours half, to pay her for the trouble you gavu her 
 by the cap story ? 
 
 Royal. To pay her ? 
 
 Miss Anne. Yes, — a sort of damages. Theiv 
 if you are careful not to deceive her any more, 
 Lucy will pass over the old cases, and place con- 
 fidence in you for the future. 
 
 Royal. Well, Lucy, you shall have half. 
 
 Lucy clapped her hands with delight at this 
 concession, and soon after the children reached 
 uome. The next day, Royal and Lucy went 
 down to see the turtle ; and Royal made him a 
 large pasture, partly in the brook and partly on 
 the shore, and while he was doing it, Lucy r* 
 named, and kept him company. 
 
frARGET PAINTING. 51 
 
 CONVERSATION V 
 TARGET PAINTING. 
 
 On rainy days, Lucy sometimes found it pretty 
 difficult to know what to do for amusement, — 
 especially when Royal was in his little room at 
 his studies. When Royal had finished his studies, 
 he used to let her go out with him into the shed, 
 or into the ham, and see what he was doing. She 
 could generally tell whether he had gone out or 
 not, by looking into the back entry upon his nail, 
 to see if his cap was there. If his cap was there, 
 she supposed that he had not gone out. 
 
 One afternoon, when it was raining pretty fast, 
 she went twice to look at Royal's nail, and both 
 times found the cap still upon it. Lucy thought 
 it must be after the time, and she wondered why 
 lie did not come down. She concluded to take 
 his cap, and put it on. and make believe that she 
 was a traveller. 
 
 She put the cap upon her head, and then got a 
 pair of her father's gloves, and put on. She also 
 found an umbrella in the corner, and took that ir 
 her hand. When she found herself rigged, she 
 
5% lucy's conversations. 
 
 thought she would go and call at Miss Anne's 
 door. She accordingly walked along, using her 
 umbrella for a cane, holding it with both hands. 
 
 When she got to Miss Anne's door, she knocked, 
 as well as she could, with the crook upon the 
 handle of the umbrella. Miss Anne had heard 
 the thumping noise of the umbrella, as Lucy 
 came along, and knew who it was ; so she said, 
 " Come in." 
 
 Lucy opened the door and went in ; the cap 
 settled down over her eyes, so that she had to hold 
 her head back very far to see, and the long ringers 
 of her father's gloves were sticking out in all di- 
 rections. 
 
 " How do you, sir ? " said she to Miss Anne, 
 nodding a little, as well as she could, — " how do 
 you, sir ? " 
 
 " Pretty well, I thank you, sir ; walk in, sir ; I 
 am happy to see you," said Miss Anne. 
 
 "It is a pretty late evening, sir, I thank yor 
 sir," said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I think it is," said Miss Anne. " l? 
 there any news to-night, sir ? " 
 
 " No, sir, — not but a few, sir," said Lucy. 
 
 Lucy looked pretty sober while this dialogue 
 lasted; but Miss Anne could not refrain from 
 laughing aloud at Lucy's appearance and expres 
 
TARGET PAINTING. 53 
 
 sions, and Lucy turned round, and appealed to be 
 going away. 
 
 " Can't you stop longer, sir ? " said Miss Anna 
 
 " No, sir," said Lucy. " 1 only wanted to ask 
 you which is the way to London." 
 
 Just at this moment, Lucy heard Royal's voice 
 in the back entry, asking Joanna if she knew 
 what had become of his cap ; and immediately 
 she started to run back and give it to him. Find- 
 ing, however, that she could not get along fast 
 enough with the umbrella, she dropped it upon the 
 floor, and ran along without it, calling out, 
 
 " Royal ! Royal ! here ; come here, and look 
 at me." 
 
 " Now I should like to know, Miss Lucy," 
 said Royal, as soon as she came m sight, " who 
 authorized you to take off my cap." 
 
 " I'm a traveller," said Lucy. 
 
 " A traveller ! " repeated Royal ; " you Iook 
 like a traveller." 
 
 He pulled his cap off from Lucy's head, and 
 put it upon his own ; and then held up a paper 
 which he had in his hands, to her view 
 
 There was a frightful-looking figure of a man 
 upon it, pretty large, with eyes, nose, and mouth, 
 painted brown, and a bundle of sticks upon his 
 oack. 
 
51 lucy's conversations. 
 
 " What is that ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " It is an Indian," said Royal. " I pamteu him 
 myself." 
 
 " O, what an Indian ! " said Lucy. " I wish 
 you would give him to me." 
 
 l< O no," said Royal ; " it is for my target," 
 
 <f Target ? " said Lucy. " What is a target ? " 
 
 ' 4 A target ? Why, a target is a mark to shoot 
 at, with my bow and arrow. They almost al- 
 ways have Indians for targets." 
 
 Lucy told him that she did not believe his 
 target would stand up long enough to be shot at ; 
 but Royal said, in reply, that he was going to 
 paste him upon a shingle, and then he could prop 
 the shingle up so that he could shoot at it. And 
 he asked Lucy if she would go and borrow Miss 
 Anne's gum arabic bottle, while he went and got 
 the shingle. 
 
 The shingle which Royal meant was a thin, 
 flat piece of wood, such as is used to put upon 
 the roofs of houses. 
 
 The gum arabic bottle was a small, square 
 oottle, containing some dissolved gum arabic, and 
 a brush, — which was always ready for pasting. 
 
 Before Lucy got the paste, Royal came back 
 with his shingle, and he came into Miss Anne's 
 '•oom, to see what had become of Lucy ; and 
 
TARGET PAINTING. 5,5 
 
 Miss Anne then said he might paste it there if he 
 pleased. So she spread a great newspaper upon 
 the table, and put the little bottle and the Indian 
 upon it ; and Royal and Lucy brought two chairs, 
 and sat down to the work. They found that the 
 table was rather too high for them ; and so they 
 took the things off again, and spread the paper 
 upon the carpet, and sat down around it. Lucy 
 could see now a great deal better than before. 
 
 " Miss Anne," said Lucy, " I very much wish 
 that you would give me your gum arabic bottle, 
 and then I could make little books, and paste 
 pictures in them, whenever I pleased." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " and that would 
 make me ever so much trouble." 
 
 " No, Miss Anne, I don't think it would make 
 you much trouble." 
 
 " Why, when I wanted a little gum arabic, to 
 paste something, how would I get any ? " 
 
 " O, then I would lend you mine," said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, if you could find it." 
 
 "O, Miss Anne, I could find it very easily ; I 
 am going to keep it in my treasury." 
 
 " Perhaps you might put it in once or twice, 
 but after that you would leave it about any where. 
 One day I should find it upon a chair, and the 
 next day upon a table, and the next on the floor 
 
56 
 
 LUCYS CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 — that is the way you leave your things about 
 the house." 
 
 "I used to, when I was a little girl," said 
 Lucy, " but I don't now." 
 
 " How long is it since you were a little girl ? " 
 asked Miss Anne. 
 
 " O, it was before you came here. I am older 
 now than I was when you came here ; I have 
 had a birthday since then." 
 
 " Don't you grow old any, except when you 
 have a birthday ? " asked Miss Anne. 
 
 Lucy did not answer this question at first, as 
 she did not know exactly how it was ; and while 
 she was thinking of it, Miss Anne said, 
 
 " It can't be very long, Lucy, since you learned 
 to put things in their places, for it is not more 
 than ten minutes since I heard you throw down 
 an umbrella upon the entiy floor, and leave ii 
 there." 
 
 " The umbrella ? — O, that was because 1 
 heard Royal calling for his cap ; and so I could 
 not wait, you know ; I had to leave it there." 
 
 " But you have passed by it once since, and I 
 presume you did not think of such a thing aa 
 taking it up." 
 
 Lucy had no reply to make to this statement, 
 and she remained silent. 
 
TARGET PAINTING. 5? 
 
 " I have got a great many little things, 5 :on- 
 tinued Miss Anne, " which I don't want mj self, 
 and which I should be very glad to give away to 
 some little girl, for playthings, if I only knew of 
 some one who would take care of them. I don't 
 want to have them scattered about the house, and 
 lost, and destroyed." 
 
 " O, I will take care of them, Miss Anne," 
 said Luc}', veiy eagerly, " if you will only give 
 them to me. I certainly will. I will put them in 
 my treasur} T , and keep them very safe." 
 
 " If I were a little girl, no bigger than you," said 
 Miss Anne, " I should have a great cabinet of play- 
 things and curiosities, twice as big as your treas- 
 ury." 
 
 " How should you get them?" asked Lucy. 
 
 "O, I know of a way; — but it is a se- 
 cret." 
 
 "Tell me, do, Miss Anne," said Lucy. — 
 "You would buy them, I suppose, with your 
 money." 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne, " that is not the way 
 I meant." 
 
 "What way did you mean then?" said 
 Lucy. " I wish you would tell me." 
 
 " Why, I should take sir,h excellent care of 
 ever} T thingIhad, that my mother would give me 
 
58 lucy's conversations. 
 
 a great many of her little curiosities, and othei 
 things, to keep." 
 
 " Would she, do you think ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " 1 do not doubt it. 
 Every lady has a great many beautiful things, put 
 away, which she does not want to use herself, but 
 she only wants to have them kept safely. Now. 
 I should take such good care of all such things, 
 that my mother would be very glad to have me 
 keep them." 
 
 " Did you do so, when you were a little girl ? '' 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne ; " I was just as careless 
 and foolish as you are. When I was playing 
 with anything, and was suddenly called away, I 
 would throw it right down, wherever I happened 
 to be, and leave it there. Once I had a little 
 glass dog, and I left it on the floor, where I had 
 been playing with it, and somebody came along 
 and stepped upon it, and broke it to pieces." 
 
 " And would not your mother give you things 
 then ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " No, nothing which was of much value. — 
 And once my uncle sent me a beautiful little doll ; 
 Out my mother would not let me keep it. She 
 kept it herself, locked up in a drawer, only some- 
 times she would let me have it to play with." 
 
TARGET PAINTING. 59 
 
 ""Why would not she let you keep it?" said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " O, if she had, I should soon have made it 
 look like old Margaret." 
 
 Here Royal said he had got his Indian pasted ; 
 and he put away the gum arabic bottle, and the 
 sheet of paper, and then he and Lucy went 
 away. 
 
60 lucy's jonveesations. 
 
 CONVERSATION VI. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 One night, while Miss Anne was undressing 
 Lucy, to put her to bed, she thought that her voice 
 had a peculiar sound, somewhat different from 
 usual. It was not hoarseness, exactly, and yet it 
 was such a sort of sound as made Miss Anne 
 think that Lucy had taken cold. She asked her 
 if she had not taken cold, but Lucy said no. 
 
 Lucy slept in Miss Anne's room, in a little 
 trundle-bed. Late in the evening, just before 
 Miss Anne herself went to bed, she looked at 
 Lucy, to see if she was sleeping quietly ; and she 
 found that she was. 
 
 But in the night Miss Anne was awaked by 
 hearing Luc}' coughing with a peculiar hoarse and 
 hollow sound, and breathing very hard. She got 
 up, and went to her trundle-bed. 
 
 " Lucy," said she, " what's the matter?" 
 
 4< Nothing," said Lucy, " only I can't breathe 
 very well." 
 
 Here Lucy began to cough again ; and the 
 
MIDNIGHT. 61 
 
 rough sounded so hoarse and hollow, that Miss 
 Anne began to be quite afraid that Lucy was 
 really sick. She put on a loose robe, and carried 
 her lamp out into the kitchen, and lighted it, -— 
 and then came back into her room again. She 
 found that Lucy was no better, and so she went 
 to call her mother 
 
 She went with the lamp, and knocked at hei 
 door ; and when she answered, Miss Anne told her 
 that Lucy did not seem to be very well, — that sha 
 had a hoarse cough, and that she breathed hard. 
 
 " O, I'm afraid it is the croup," she ex- 
 claimed ; " let us get up immediately." 
 
 We will get right up, and come and see her," 
 said Lucy's father. 
 
 So Miss Anne put the lamp down at their 
 door, and went out into the kitchen to light an- 
 other lamp for herself. She also opened the coals, 
 and put a little wood upon the fire, and hung the tea 
 kettle upon the crane, and filled it up with water ; 
 for Miss Anne had observed that, in cases of sud- 
 den sickness, hot water was one of the things most 
 sure to be wanted. 
 
 After a short time, Lucy's father and mothei 
 came in. After they had been with her a few 
 tninutes, her mother said, 
 
 " Don't you think it is the croup ? " 
 6 
 
62 
 
 a No, I hope not," said her father ; u 1 pre- 
 sume it is only quinsy ; but I am not sure, and 
 perhaps I had better go for a doctor." 
 
 After some further consultation, they conclu- 
 ded that it was best to call a physician. Lucy's 
 mother recommended that they should call up the 
 hired man, and send him ; but her father thought 
 that it would take some time for him to get up and 
 get ready, and that he had better go himself. 
 
 When he had gone, they brought in some hot 
 water, and bathed Lucy's feet. She liked this 
 very much ; but her breathing seemed to grow 
 rather worse than better. 
 
 " What is the croup 1 " said Lu( y to her 
 mother, while her feet were in the water. 
 
 " It is a kind of sickness that children have 
 sometimes suddenly in the night ; but I hope yoi' 
 are not going to have it." 
 
 " No, mother," said Lucy ; " I think 'tit is only 
 the quinsy." 
 
 Lucy did not know at all what the quir >y was ; 
 but her sickness did not seem to her tc be any 
 thing very bad ; and so she agreed with her fa- 
 ther that it was probably only the quinsy. 
 
 When the doctor came, he felt of Luoy's 
 pulse, and looked at her tongue, and listp^- to 
 ber breathing. 
 
MIDNIGHT. 63 
 
 ' Will she take ipecacuanha ? " said the doctor 
 to Lucy's mother. 
 
 <; She will take anything you prescribe, doc- 
 tor," said her father, in reply. 
 
 " Well, that's clever," said the doctor. " The 
 old rule is, that the child that will take medicine is 
 half cured already." 
 
 So the doctor sat down at me table, and opened 
 his saddle-bags, and took out a bottle filled with a 
 yellowish powder, and began to take some out. 
 
 " Is it good medicine ? " said Lucy, in a low 
 voice, to her mother. She was now sitting in her 
 mother's lap, who was rocking her in a rocking- 
 chair. 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor ; for he overheard 
 Lucy's question, and thought that he would an- 
 swer it himself. " Yes, ipecacuanha is a very 
 good medicine, — an excellent medicine." 
 
 As he said this, he looked around, rather slyly, 
 at Miss Anne and Lucy's father. 
 
 " Then 1 shall like to take it," said Lucy. 
 
 " He means," said her mother, " that it is a gooa 
 medicine to cure the sickness with ; the taste of it 
 is not good. It is a very disagreeable medicine to 
 take.' 1 
 
 Lucy said nothing in reply to this, but she 
 thought to herself, that she wished the doctor? 
 
64 lucy's conversations. 
 
 could find out some medicin 3s that did not taste 
 so bad. 
 
 Miss Anne received the medicine from the doc- 
 tor, and prepared it in a spoon, with some water 
 for Lucy to take. Just before it was ready, tho 
 door opened, and Royal came in. 
 
 "Why, Royal," sa:d his mother, "how came 
 you to get up ? " 
 
 " I heard a noise, and \ thought it was morn 
 ing," said Royal. 
 
 "Morning? no," replied his mother; "it is 
 midnight." 
 
 " Midnight ? " said Lucy. She was quite as- 
 tonished. She did not recollect that she had ever 
 been up at midnight before, in her life. 
 
 " Is Lucy sick ? " said Royal. 
 
 " No, not very sick," said Lucy. 
 
 Royal came and stood by the rocking-chair 
 and looked into Lucy's face. 
 
 " I am sorry that you are sick," said he. " Is 
 there anything that I can do for you ? " 
 
 Lucy hesitated a moment, and then her eye 
 suddenly brightened up, and she said, 
 
 "Yes, Royal, — if you would only just be so 
 good as to take my medicine for me." 
 
 Royal laughed, and said, " O Lucy ! I guess 
 you are not very sirk." 
 
MIDNIGHT. 65 
 
 In fact, Lucy was breathing pretty freely then, 
 and there was nothing to indicate, particularly, 
 that she was sick ; unless when a paroxysm of 
 coughing came on. Miss Anne brought her 
 medicine to her in a great spoon, and Royal said 
 that he presumed that the doctor would not let 
 him take the medicine, but that, if she would take 
 it, he would make all the faces for her. 
 
 Accordingly, while she was swallowing the 
 medicine, she turned her eyes up towards Royal, 
 who had stood back a little way, and she began 
 to laugh a little at the strange grimaces which he 
 was making. The laugh was, however, inter- 
 rupted and spoiled by a universal shudder which 
 came over her, produced by the taste of the ipe- 
 cacuanha. 
 
 Immediately afterwards, Lucy's mother said, 
 
 " Come, Royal ; now I want you to go right 
 back to bed again." 
 
 " Well, mother, — only won't you just let me 
 stop a minute, to look out the door, and see how 
 midnight looks ? " 
 
 " Yes," said she, " only run along." 
 
 So Royal went away ; and pretty soon the doc- 
 tor went away too He said that Lucy would be 
 pretty sick for about an hour, and that after that 
 tie hoped that she would be better ; and he left a 
 
66 lucy's conversations. 
 
 dmall white powder in a little paper, which he said 
 she might take after that time, and it would make 
 her sleep well the rest of the night. 
 
 It was as the doctor had predicted. Lucy was 
 quite sick for an hour, and her father and mother, 
 and Miss Anne, all remained, and took care of 
 her. After that, she hegan to be better. She 
 breathed much more easily, and when she coughed 
 she did not seem to be so very hoarse. Her moth 
 er was then going to carry her into her room ; 
 but Miss Anne begged them to let her stay where 
 she was ; for she said she wanted to take care of 
 her herself. 
 
 " The doctor said he thought she would sleep 
 quietly," said Miss Anne ; " and if she should not 
 be so well, I will come and call you." 
 
 " Very well," said her mother, " we will do so 
 But first you may give her the powder." 
 
 So Miss Anne took the white powder, and put 
 it into some jelly, in a spoon ; and when she had 
 covered the powder up carefully with the jelly, 
 she brought it to Lucy. 
 
 " Now I've got some good medicine for you." 
 said Miss Anne. 
 
 " I am glad it is good," said Lucy. 
 
 " That is," continued Miss Anne, " the jelly is 
 good, and you will not taste the powder." 
 
MIDNIGHT. 67 
 
 Lucy took the jelly, and, after it, a little water ; 
 and then her mother put her into her trundle-bed. 
 Her father and mother then bade her good night, 
 and went away to their own room. 
 
 Miss Anne then set the chairs back in their 
 places, and carried out all the things which had 
 been used ; and after she had got the room ar- 
 ranged and in order, she came to Lucy's bedside, 
 to see if she was asleep. She was not asleep. 
 
 " Lucy," said Miss Anne, " how do you feel 
 now?" 
 
 " O, pretty well," said Lucy ; " at least, I am 
 better." 
 
 " Do you feel sleepy ? " 
 
 " No," said Lucy. 
 
 " Is there any thing you want ? " asked Mjss 
 Anne. 
 
 " Why, no, — only, — 1 should like it, — only 
 I don't suppose you could very well, — but I 
 should like it if you could hold me a little while, 
 — and rock me." 
 
 a O yes, I can," said Mis? \nne, "just as we 
 as not." 
 
 So Miss Anne took Lucy up from her bed, and 
 wrapped a blanket about her, and sat down in 
 her rocking-chair, to rock her. She rocked her 
 a few minutes, and sang to her, until shp 
 
68 LUCYS CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 thought she was asleep. Then she stopped .sing 
 ing, and she rocked slower and slower, until shr 
 gradually ceased. 
 
 A moment afterwards, Lucy said, in a mild and 
 gentle voice, 
 
 " Miss Anne, is it midnight now ? " 
 
 " It is about midnight," said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Do you think you could just carry me to the 
 window, and let me look out, and see how the 
 midnight looks ? — or am I too heavy ? " 
 
 " No, you are not very heavy ; but, then, 
 there is nothing to see. Midnight looks just like 
 any other part of the night." 
 
 " Royal wanted to see it," said Lucy, " an I 
 should like to, too, if you would be willing to 
 carry me." 
 
 When a child is so patient and gentle, it is 
 very difficult indeed to refuse them any request 
 that they make ; and Miss Anne immediately 
 began to draw up the blanket over Lucy's feet, 
 preparing to go. She did not wish to have her 
 put her feet to the floor, for fear that she might 
 take more cold. So she carried her along to the 
 window, although she was pretty heavy for Mis? 
 Anne to carry. Miss Anne was not very strong 
 
 Lucy separated the two curtains with her 
 hands, and Miss Anne carried her m between 
 
MIDNIGHT. 71 
 
 them. There was a narrow window-seat, and 
 she rested Lucy partly upon it, so that she was 
 less heavy to hold. 
 
 " Why, Miss Anne," said Lucy, " is'nt it any 
 darker than this ? " 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne ; " there is a moon 
 to-night." 
 
 " Where ? " said Lucy. " I don't see die 
 moon." 
 
 " We can't see it here ; we can only see the 
 light of it, shining on the buildings." 
 
 " It is pretty dark in the yard," said Lucy. 
 
 u Yes," said Miss Anne, " the yard is in 
 shadow." 
 
 " What do you mean by that, Miss Anne ? " 
 asked Lucy. 
 
 " Why, the moon does not shine into the yard ; 
 the house casts a shadow all over it." 
 
 " Then I should think," said Lucy, " that you 
 ought to say that the shadow is in the yard, — 
 not the yard is in the shadow." 
 
 Miss Anne laughed, and said, 
 
 " I did not say that the yard was in the shadow, 
 but in shadow." 
 
 " And is not that just the same thing ? " saio 
 Lucy 
 
72 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 " Not exactly ; but look at the stars ovei 
 there, beyond the field." 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, " there's one pretty bright 
 one ; but there are not a great many out. I 
 thought there would be more at midnight." 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne, " there are nc more 
 stars at midnight than at any other time ; and 
 to-night there are fewer than usual, because the 
 moon shines." 
 
 " I don't see why there should not be just as 
 many stars, if the moon does shine." 
 
 " There are just as many ; only we can't see 
 them so well." 
 
 " Why can't we see them ? " said Lucy. 
 
 But Miss Anne told Lucy that she was rather 
 tired of holding her at the window, and so she 
 would carry her back, and tell her about it while 
 she was rocking her to sleep. 
 
 " You see," said Miss Anne, after she had sat 
 down again, " that there are just as many stars in 
 the sky in the daytime, as there are in the night." 
 
 " O Miss Anne ! " exclaimed Lucy, raising up 
 her head suddenly, as if surprised ; " 1 have looked 
 up in the sky a great many times, and I never 
 saw any." 
 
 " No, we cannot see them because the sun 
 shines so bright." 
 
MIDNIGHT. 73 
 
 " Did you ever see any, Miss Anne ? " 
 
 " No," said she. 
 
 " Did any body ever see any ? " 
 
 "No," said Miss Anne, "I don't know thai 
 any body ever did." 
 
 " Then," said Lucy, " how do they know thai 
 there are any ? " 
 
 " Well — that is rather a hard question," said 
 Miss Anne. " But they do know ; they have 
 found out in some way or other, though I don't 
 know exactly how." 
 
 " I don't see how they can know that there are 
 any stars there," said Lucy, " unless somebody 
 has seen them. I guess they only think there 
 are some, Miss Anne, — they only think" 
 
 " 1 believe I don't know enough about it my- 
 self," said Miss Anne, " to explain it to you, — 
 and besides, you ought to go to sleep now. So 
 shut up your eyes, and I will sing to you, and 
 then, perhaps, you will go to sleep." 
 
 Lucy obeyed, and shut up her eyes ; and Miss 
 Anne began to sing her a song. After a little 
 while, Lucy opened her eyes, and said, 
 
 " I rather think, Miss Anne, I should like to 
 get into my trundle-bed now. I am rather tired 
 of sitting in your lap." 
 
 " Very v\ r el/ " said Miss Anne ; " I think it v ill 
 7 
 
74 
 
 be better. But would not you rather luve rne 
 bring the cradle in ? and then you can lie down, 
 and I can rock you all the time." 
 
 " No," said Lucy ; " the cradle has got so short, 
 that I can't put my feet out straight. I had 
 rather get into my trundle-bed." 
 
 So Miss Anne put Lucy into the trundle-bed, 
 and she herself took a book, and sat at her table, 
 reading. In a short time, Lucy went to sleep 
 and she slept soundly until morning. 
 
JOANNA. 75 
 
 CONVERSATION VII. 
 JOANNA. 
 
 The next morning, when Lucy waked up, sne 
 found that it was very light. The curtains of 
 the room were up, and she could see the sun 
 shining brightly upon the trees and buildings out 
 of. doors, so that she supposed that it was pretty 
 late. Besides, she saw that Miss Anne was not 
 in the room ; and she supposed that she had got 
 up and gone out to breakfast. 
 
 Lucy thought that she would get up too. Bui 
 then she recollected that she had been sick the 
 night before, and that, perhaps, her mother would 
 not be willing to have her get up. 
 
 Her next idea was, that she would call out for 
 Miss Anne, or for her mother ; but this, on re- 
 flection, she thought would make a great disturb- 
 ance ; for it was some distance from the room 
 which she was in to the parlor, where she sup- 
 posed they were taking breakfast. 
 
 She concluded, on the whole, to wait patiently 
 until somebody should come ; and having nothing 
 
76 
 
 else to do, she began to sing a little song, winch 
 Miss Anne had taught her. She knew only one 
 verse, but she sang this verse two or three tunes 
 over, louder and louder each time, and her voice, 
 resounded merrily through all that part of the 
 house. 
 
 Some children cry when they wake up and 
 find themselves alone ; some call out aloud foi 
 somebody to come; and others sing. Thus 
 there are three ways ; and the singing is the best 
 of all the three ; — except, indeed, for very little 
 children, who are not old enough to sing or to call, 
 and who, therefore, cannot do anything but cry. 
 
 They heard Lucy's singing in the parlor, and 
 Miss Anne came immediately to see her. She 
 gave her a picture-book to amuse herself with for 
 a time, and went away again ; but in about a 
 quarter of an hour she came back, and helped her 
 to get up and dress herself. 
 
 Her mother told her that she must not go out 
 of doors that day, but that she might play about 
 in any of the rooms, just as she pleased. 
 
 " But what shall I do for my breakfast ? " said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " O, I will give you some breakfast," said Miss 
 Anne. " How should you like to have it by 
 yourself, upon your little table, in the kitchen } ' 
 
JOANNA. 77 
 
 4< Well," said Lucy, " if you will let me have 
 my own cups and saucers." 
 
 ' ; Your cups won't hold enough for you to 
 link, — will they ? " 
 
 " O, I can fill them up two or three times." 
 
 Miss Anne said she had no objection to this 
 plan ; and she told Lucy to go and get her table 
 ready. So Lucy went and got her little table 
 It was just high enough for her to sit at. Hei 
 father had made it for her, by taking a small table 
 m the house, which had been intended for a sort 
 of a light-stand, and sawing off the legs, so as to 
 make it just high enough for her. 
 
 Lucy brought this little table, and also her 
 chair ; and then Miss Anne handed her a napkin 
 lor a table-cloth, and told her that she might set 
 her table, — and that, when it was all set, she 
 would bring her something for breakfast ; and so 
 sne left Lucy, for a time, to herself. 
 
 Lucy spread the napkin upon her table, and 
 (hen went and got some of her cups and sau- 
 cers, and put upon it. Joanna was ironing at 
 the great kitchen table, and Lucy went to ask 
 her how many cups and saucers she had bet- 
 ter set. 
 
 " I should think it would take the whole set," 
 said Joanna, " to hold one good cup of tea." 
 7* 
 
78 
 
 " But I am going to fill up my cup three times, 
 Joanna ; and if that isn't enough, I shall fill it 
 up four times." 
 
 " O, then," said Joanna, " I would not have 
 but one cup, — or at most two. I think I would 
 have two, because you may possibly have some 
 company." 
 
 " I wish you would come and be my company, 
 Joanna." 
 
 " No, I must attend to my ironing." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, as she went back to her 
 table, " I will have two cups, at any rate, for 1 
 may have some company." 
 
 She accordingly put on two cups and a tea-pot ; 
 also a sugar-bowl and creamer. She placed 
 them in various ways upon the table ; first trying 
 one plan of arrangement, and then another ; and 
 when at last they were placed in the best way, 
 she went and called Miss Anne, to tell her that 
 she was ready for her breakfast. 
 
 Miss Anne came out, according to her promise, 
 to give her what she was to have to eat. First, 
 she put a little sugar in her sugar-bowl ; then 
 some milk in her cream-pitcher ; tnen some we x-r, 
 pretty hot, in her tea-pot. 
 
 " Could not you let me have a little real tea ? ' 
 said Lucy 
 
JOANNA. 79 
 
 "O, this will taste just as well," said Miss 
 Anne. 
 
 " I know it will taste just as well ; but it will 
 not look just right. Real tea is not white, like 
 water." 
 
 " Water is not. white," said Miss Anne : 
 " milk is white ; water is very different in appear- 
 ance from milk." 
 
 " What color is water, then ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " It is not of any color," said Miss Anne 
 " It is what we call colorless. Now, you want 
 to have something in your tea-pot which is col- 
 ored a little, like tea, — not perfectly colorless, 
 like water." 
 
 Lucy said yes, that that was exactly what she 
 wanted. So Miss Anne took her tea-pot up, and 
 went into the closet with it, and presently came 
 out with it again, and put it upon the table. The 
 reason why she took all this pains to please Lucy 
 was, because she was so gentle and pleasant ; and, 
 although she often asked for things, she was not 
 vexed or ill-humored when they could not be 
 given to her. 
 
 Miss Anne then cut some thin slices of bread, 
 and divided them into square pieces, so small 
 that they could go on a small w plate, which she 
 brought from the closet. She also gave her a 
 
tfO LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 toasLiig-fork with a long handle, and told her that 
 she might toast her own bread, and then spread 
 it with butter. She gave her a little butter upon 
 another pJate. 
 
 When all these things were arranged, Miss 
 Anne went away, telling Lucy that she had 
 better make her breakfast last as long as she 
 could, for she must remember that she could not 
 go out at all that day ; and that she must there- 
 fore economize her amusements 
 
 M Economize ? What do you mean by that ; 
 Miss Anne ? " said Lucy. 
 
 "Why, use them carefully, and make them 
 last as long as you can." 
 
 Lucy followed Miss Anne's advice in making 
 the amusement of sitting at her own breakfast 
 table last as long as possible. She toasted her 
 little slices of bread with the toasting-fork, and 
 poured out the tea from her tea-pot. She found 
 that it had a slight tinge of the color of tea, which 
 Miss Anne had given it by sweetening it a little, 
 with brown sugar. Lucy enjoyed her breakfast 
 very much. 
 
 While she was eating it, Joanna, who was 
 much pleased with her for being so still, and so 
 careful not to make her any trouble, asked her if 
 she should not like a roasted apple. 
 
JOANNA. SI 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, " very much indeed." 
 
 " I will give you one," said Joanna, " and 
 show you how to roast it, if you will go and ask 
 your mother, if she thinks it will not hurt you." 
 
 Lucy accordingly went and asked her mother. 
 She said it would not hurt her at all, and that she 
 should be very glad to have Joanna get her an 
 apple. 
 
 Joanna accordingly brought a large, rosy apple, 
 with a stout stem. She tied a long string to the 
 stem, and then held die apple up before the fire 
 a minute, by means of the stem. Then she got 
 a flat-iron, and tied the other end of the string to 
 the flat-iron. The flat-iron she then placed upon 
 the mantle shelf, and the string was just long 
 enough to let the apple hang down exactly be- 
 fore the fire. 
 
 When it was all arranged in this way, she took 
 up the apple, and twisted the string for some time ; 
 and then, when she let Jie apple down again 
 gently to its place, the weight of it began to 
 untwist the string, and this made the apple itself 
 turn round quite swiftly before the fire. 
 
 Joanna also put a plate under the apple, to 
 catch any of the juice or pulp which might fall 
 down, and then left Lucy to watch it while il 
 was roasting. 
 
S2 lucy's conversations. 
 
 Lucy watched its revolutions for some time ii 
 silence. She observed that the apple wouk' 
 whirl very swiftly for a time, and then it woulc 
 go slower, and slower, and slower, until, at length 
 she said, 
 
 " Joanna, Joanna, it is going to stop." 
 
 But, instead of this, it happened that, just a? 
 the very instant when Lucy thought it was goin£ 
 to stop, all at once it began to turn the othex 
 way ; and, instead of going slower and slower, it 
 went faster and faster, until, at length, it was re- 
 volving as fast as it did before. 
 
 " O no," said she to Joanna ; " it has got a go- 
 ing again." 
 
 It was indeed revolving very swiftly ; but 
 pretty soon it began to slacken its speed again ; — 
 and again Lucy thought that it was certainly 
 going to stop. But at this time she witnessed the 
 same phenomenon as before. It had nearly lojt 
 all its motion, and was turning around very slowl) 
 .ndeed, and just upon the point of stopping ; ai o 
 in fact it did seem to stop for an instant ; but im 
 mediately it began to move in an opposite direc- 
 tion, very slowly at first, but afterwards faster and 
 faster, until it was, at length, spinning around 
 before the hot coals, as fast as ever before. 
 Pretty soon, also, the apple began to sing ; and 
 
JOANNA. 
 
 s;$ 
 
 Lucy concluded that it would lever slop, — at 
 least not before it would have time to be well 
 roasted. 
 
 " It goes like Royal's top," said Lucy. 
 
 " Has Royal got a top ? " said Joanna. 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, " a large humming top. 
 There is a hole in it. It spins very fast, only it 
 does not go first one way and then the other, like 
 this apple." 
 
 " J never saw a top," said Joanna. 
 
 " Never saw one ! " exclaimed Lucy. " Did 
 not the boys have tops when you were little ? " 
 
 " INo boys that 1 ever knew," answered Joanna. 
 
 " Did you have a tea-set when you were a 
 little girl ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " No," said Joanna, " I never saw any such a 
 tea-set, until I saw yours." 
 
 " What kind of playthings did you have, then, 
 when you were a little girl ? " 
 
 " No playthings at all," said Joanna ; " I was 
 a farmer's daughter." 
 
 " And don't the fanners' daughters ever have 
 any playthings ? " 
 
 " J never did, at any rate." 
 
 " What did you do, then, for play ? " 
 
 " O, I had plenty of play. When I was about 
 as big as you, I used to build fires in the stumps.' 
 
84 llcy's conversations. 
 
 " Wliat stumps ? " said Lucy. 
 
 u Why, the stumps in the field, pretty near 
 my father's house. I used to pick up chips 
 and sticks, and build fires in the hollow places in 
 the stumps, and call them my ovens. Then, 
 when they were all heated, I used to put a potato 
 in, and cover it up with sand, and let it roast." 
 
 " I wish I had some stumps to build fires in," 
 jaid Lucy. " I should like to go to your house 
 and see them." 
 
 " O, they are all gone now," said Joanna. 
 " They have gradually got burnt up, and rotted 
 out ; and now it is all a smooth, green field." 
 
 " O, what a pity ! " said Lucy. " And an't 
 there any more stumps anywhere ? " 
 
 " Yes, in the woods, and upon the new fields. 
 You see, when they cut down trees, they leave the 
 stumps in the ground ; and pretty soon they begin 
 to rot ; and they rot more and more, until, at last, 
 they tumble all to pieces ; and then they pile up 
 the pieces in heaps, and bum them. Then the 
 ground is all smooth and clear. So I used to 
 bnild fires in the stumps as long as they lasted. 
 One day my hen laid her eggs in a stump." 
 
 " Your hen ? " said Lucy ; " did you have a 
 hen?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Joanna ; " when I was a little 
 
JOANNA. 85 
 
 older than you are, my father gave nie a little yel- 
 low chicken, that was peeping, with the rest, about 
 the yard. I used to feed her, every day, with 
 crumbs. After a time, she grew up to be a large 
 hen, and laid eggs. My father said that I might 
 have all the eggs too. I used to sell them, and 
 save the money." 
 
 " How much money did you get ? " asked 
 Lucy. 
 
 " O, considerable. After a time, you see, I let 
 my hen sit, and hatch some chickens." 
 
 " Sit ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes ; you see, after hens have laid a good 
 many eggs, they sit upon them, to keep them 
 warm, for two or three weeks ; and, while they 
 keep them warm, a little chicken begins to grow 
 in every egg, and at length, after they grow strong 
 enough, they break through the eggs and come 
 out. So I got eleven chickens from my hen, 
 after a time." 
 
 " Eleven ? " repeated Lucy ; " were there just 
 eleven ? " 
 
 "There were twelve, but one died," replied 
 Joanna. " And all these chickens were hatched 
 in a stump." 
 
 " How did that happen ? " asked Lucy. 
 8 
 
86 lucy's conversations. 
 
 " Why, the hens generally used to lay theii 
 eggs in the barn, and I used to go in, eveiy day, to 
 get the eggs. I carried a little basket, and I used 
 to climb about upon the hay, and feel in the cribs 
 and I generally knew where all the nests were. 
 But once I could not find my hen's nest for several 
 days ; and at last T thought I would watch her. and 
 see where she went. I did watch her, and I saw 
 her go into a hollow place in a great black stump, 
 in the corner of the yard. After she came out, I 
 went and looked there, and I found four eggs " 
 
 " What did you do then ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, I concluded, on the whole, to let them 
 s'.ay, and let my hen hatch her eggs there, if she 
 would. And I told my brother, that, if he would 
 make a coop for me, around that stump, I would 
 give him one of the chickens." 
 
 " A coop 1 What is a coop ? " 
 
 " O, a small house for hens to live in. My broth- 
 er made me a coop. He made it immediately 
 after the hen had hatched her chickens. I will 
 tell you how he made it. He drove stakes clown 
 all around the stump, and then put some short 
 boards over the top, so as to cover it over. My 
 hen staid there until her chickens got pretty well 
 grown, and then we let her run about the yard." 
 
iOANNA. 
 
 5V 
 
 "That is pretty much the way that Royal 
 made his turtle-pen," said Lucy ; " but 1 should 
 rather have a hen-coop, because of the chick- 
 
 ens. 
 
 " Yes, I had eleven. I gave my brother one, 
 and then I had ten. These all grew up, and laid 
 more eggs ; and at last I got money enough from 
 my eggs and poultry to buy me a new gown." 
 
 " I wish I was a farmer's daughter," said Lucy. 
 
 " Farmers' daughters have a very good time," 
 •and Joanna, " I think myself." 
 
88 
 
 CONVERSATION VIII 
 BUILDING. 
 
 In one of the yards belonging to the house that 
 Lucy lived in, was a border for flowers ; and in 
 this border Royal had an apple-tree, which had 
 grown up from a seed which he had planted him- 
 self. It was now nearly as high as his head, and 
 Royal said that he meant to graft it the very next 
 spring. 
 
 At the end of this border, near one corner of the 
 yard, there was a vacant place, where some flow- 
 ers had been dug up, and Lucy had it to plant 
 beans in. She used often to dig in it, and plant, 
 when she had nothing else to do. Miss Anne 
 gave her sever.1 different kinds of flower seeds 
 in the spring, and she planted them. Generally, 
 however, she had not patience enough to wait foi 
 them to come up ; but dug the ground all ovei 
 again, with her little hoe, before the flowers, which 
 she had planted, had had time to show themselves 
 above the ground. 
 
 She was digging, one day, in this garden, and 
 
BUILDING. 89 
 
 Royal was hoeing up the weeds around his apple- 
 tree. Royal said that his apple-tree was growing 
 crooked, and that he was going to get a stake, 
 and drive it down hy the side of his tree, and tie 
 a string to it, and so straighten the tree up. 
 
 Lucy came to see Royal stake up his tree. 
 He made the stake very sharp, and when he got 
 it all ready to drive, he said that he must go and 
 get the iron bar to make a hole. 
 
 "O, you can drive it right in," said Lucy, 
 " without making any hole." 
 
 " Not far enough," said Royal. "It must be 
 driven in very deep and strong, or else the string 
 which ties the apple-tree to it, will pull it over to 
 one side." 
 
 So Royal went and got the small crowbar, 
 and came back dragging it along. He made a 
 deep hole by the side of the apple-tree, but not 
 very near it, for he did not want to hurt the roots. 
 Then he took out the bar, and laid it down upon 
 the grass, and inserted the point of the stake into 
 the hole which he had made. 
 
 While he was doing this, Lucy took hold o f 
 one end of the iron bar, and tried to lift it. 
 
 " O, what a heavy bar ! " said she. 
 
 " I don't think it is very heavy," said Royal 
 8* 
 
90 lucy's conevrsations. 
 
 So saying, he drove down his stake with repeaieq 
 blows of his hatchet. 
 
 " You are a great deal stronger than I am " 
 said Lucy. " You can drive the stake down 
 very hard indeed. I don't believe but that you 
 could make a hen-coop." 
 
 " Who told you anything about a hen-coop ? " 
 said Royal. 
 
 " Joanna," said Lucy. " She said that she 
 was a fanner's daughter when she was a little 
 girl, and that she had a hen and some chickens ; 
 and that her brother made her a hen-coop pretty 
 much like the turtle-pen you made down by the 
 brook." 
 
 " I could make a hen-coop," said Royal, " I 
 know, — and I mean to. Perhaps I can get 
 some hens to put into it. At all events, I shall 
 have a hen-coop." 
 
 " If I was a farmer's daughter," said Lucy, " 1 
 should have hens." 
 
 " But you can have hens without being a farm- 
 er's daughter," said Royal. 
 
 " How ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, you and I could buy some hens witli 
 our own money, if mother would let us ; and then 
 I could make a coop." 
 
BUILDING. 91 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " I mean to go and ask 
 her this very minute." 
 
 " No ; stop," said Royal. " That won't do any 
 good. She will tell you to a»k father, and then 
 he won't believe that we can make a coop, and 
 he won't want to take the trouble to have one 
 made for us, and so he will say no. I'll tell you 
 what we must do. We must make the coop first, 
 and then, when it is all ready, we can ask fathei 
 if we may buy some hens." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, in a tone of great sat- 
 isfaction, " let us go and make it now." 
 
 " But you can't help make it, Lucy. I rfhall 
 have to make it myself, all alone ; and so the 
 hens must be mine." 
 
 Lucy did not like the plan of giving up all the 
 hens to Royal ; but Royal insisted upon it that 
 he should have to do all the work, and, of course, 
 that he must have the hens himself. At last, 
 Lucy said that, if he did not let her have a share, 
 she should not stay with him, but should go into 
 the house. 
 
 But Royal did not like at all to stay and work 
 alone. He tried to get Lucy to remain, and at 
 last he said that, if she would, he would make he/ 
 a garden in the corner, — a beautiful garden, full 
 of flowers. 
 
92 lucy's conversations. 
 
 " Real flowers ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, real flowers, — all in blossom." 
 
 " How shall you get the flowers to grow * " 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " O, I shall get them already grown, in trw 
 gardens, and in the fields, and stick them down in 
 the beds. I shall make beds and little alleys just 
 like a real garden." 
 
 " And how long will the flowers keep bright ? " 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " O, as long as you take the trouble to water 
 them. You will have to water them, you know, 
 — and Miss Anne will lend you her watering- 
 pot." 
 
 Lucy was pleased with this proposal. She 
 liked the plan of having such a garden very 
 much ; and as to watering it, she said that it 
 would be no trouble at all ; she should like to 
 water it. So it was agreed that Lucy should 
 stay and keep Royal company, while he was 
 making the coop, and help him all she could ; 
 and that he should make her a flower-garden, and 
 stock it well with real flowers, — and so have all 
 the hens himself. 
 
 They then walked along together, to look out 
 a place for a coop. Lucy said that she wished 
 there was an old hollow stump in their yard, but 
 
BUILDING. 93 
 
 there was nothing like one. Royal said that he 
 had heard of a barrel for a hen-coop ; and he 
 just then recollected that there was a corner 
 round behind the barn, where there were several 
 old boxes and ban-els ; and he and Lucy went 
 there to see if they could find one which would 
 do. He found one that would answer the pur- 
 pose very well. 
 
 Lucy wanted to help Royal roll it along, and 
 Royal allowed her to do it, though he could roll 
 it very easily himself alone ; for it was empty and 
 light. It seemed to please Lucy to help him, 
 and so Royal allowed her to push it with him. 
 
 They were, for some time, in doubt where it 
 would be best to put their coop ; but at last they 
 concluded to put it under the trees, by the side of 
 the great, flat stone. Lucy said that this was an 
 excellent place, because she could sit at Miss 
 Anne's window, when it was rainy, so that she 
 could not go out, and see the hens and chickens. 
 
 Royal placed the barrel down upon its side, 
 near the great stone, and drove down stakes on 
 each side of it, to keep it from rolling. Then he 
 made a great many other stakes out of narrow 
 pieces of board, which he found around a pile of 
 lumber behind the bam. 
 
 As fast as these stakes were finished, Lucy 
 
94 lucy's conversations. 
 
 wheeled Uem along, upon a little wheelbarrow 
 to the place where the coop was to be made. So 
 Royal found that, besides keeping him company, 
 Lucy could really assist him, much more than he 
 had at first supposed she could. 
 
 Royal drove the stakes down into the ground, 
 in such a way as to enclose a square place. The 
 fence formed the back side of this enclosure, and 
 it was bis enough to hold several hens, and to 
 give them room to walk about a little. When it 
 was nearly done, Lucy said that she meant to gc 
 and ask Joanna to come out and see it, to tell 
 them if it would do. 
 
 Royal said that he should like to have her go, 
 very much ; though he was pretty sure that the 
 coop would do very well. Lucy ran off into the 
 house, and after a little while she appeared again 
 leading Joanna. 
 
 " Yes," said Joanna, — after she had looked 
 at the coop a minute or two, with a smile upon 
 her countenance, — "yes, that is quite a coop, 
 really." 
 
 " Isn't it a good coop ? " said Royal. " See 
 now strong these stakes are driven into the 
 ground." 
 
 " It is a great deal better than I thought you 
 could make,'* said Joanna. 
 
BU1LDLNG. 95 
 
 Joanna's commendations were not quite so un- 
 qualified as Royal wished them to be. 
 
 " Well, don't you think," said he, " that it will 
 do very well to keep hens in ? " 
 
 "Why, it is an excellent coop for you and 
 Lucy to play with," said Joanna ; " but as to 
 keeping hens in it, there are two objections." 
 
 " What are they ? " said Royal. 
 
 "Why, the foxes and cats can get in, and 
 the hens and chickens can get out." 
 
 " How ? " said Royal. " How can the hens 
 get out ? " 
 
 " They can jump over," said Joanna. 
 
 " Well, the chickens can't jump over, at any 
 rate," said Lucy ; " how can they get out ? " 
 
 " They can creep through," said Joanna, 
 gravely. 
 
 Royal and Lucy both looked rather blank at 
 these very serious objections to their work. After 
 a moment's pause, Royal said, 
 
 " Do foxes and cats kill hens and chickens ? " 
 
 " They kill chickens," said Joanna, " and that 
 is one great reason for making a coop." 
 
 " Is there any other reason ? " 
 
 " Yes ; sometimes they want to keep the hens 
 from straying away to the neighbors', or getting 
 
96 Lucy's CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 into the garden, and scratching up the seeds and 
 flowers." 
 
 " There are no seeds in our garden now," said 
 Royal. 
 
 " No," added Lucy, " but I don't want to have 
 them scratch up my flowers." 
 
 " But, Joanna," said Royal, " is not this just 
 such a coop as your brother made for you ? Lucy 
 said it was." 
 
 "It is like it in the stakes ; but mine had a 
 cover over the top of it." 
 
 " I can put a cover over this," said Royal. 
 
 "O, very well ; if you can do that, I think it 
 will answer." 
 
 After Joanna went into the house, Royal tried 
 to contrive some way to put a cover over his 
 coop ; but he found that it would be very diffi- 
 cult to fasten it on. The tops of the stakes were 
 not steady enough to nail any thing to ; and be- 
 sides, they were not all of the same height ; and, 
 of course, if he should put boards over across, they 
 would not bi steady. At last he said, 
 
 " O Lucy, I have thought of another plan." 
 
 "What is it?" said Lucy. 
 
 " Why," said he, " you remember those great 
 boxes around behind the bam, where we got out 
 barrel." 
 
feUiLBING. 97 
 
 Lucy said that she remembered them very weL 
 
 " Now," continued Royal, " I will get one of 
 those great boxes for the roof of my coop. There 
 is one large, flat box, which will be just the thing 
 I will pull up all these stakes, and drive them 
 down again, so as to make a square, just as big as 
 the box." 
 
 " I don't understand, exactly," said Lucy. 
 
 " Never mind," said Royal, " it is not necessary 
 to explain it. You shall see how I will do it ; let 
 us go and get the box*." 
 
 Royal and Lucy went together to get the box. 
 They found one there which Royal said would do 
 very well ; the bottom of it was about as large as 
 a common tea table ; but the sides were narrow, 
 so that, when it was placed upon the giound, 
 with the open part up, it was not very deep. 
 
 Royal attempted to roll this box out ; but he 
 found it much harder to move than the barrel was, 
 This was partly because it was larger and heavier, 
 and partly because it would not roll, on account 
 of its square form. 
 
 However, they contrived to get it out, and to 
 tvork it along through a gate which led into a 
 large outer yard. By this time, however, they 
 both got tired, and Royal said that ho meruit to 
 get some lollers, and roll it along. 
 
98 
 
 So lie brought some round sticks of wood from 
 .he wood pile, for rollers ; and with a bar of wood. 
 which he found also upon the wood pile, he pried 
 the box up, and Lucy put two rollers under it, one 
 at each end. They also placed another roller a 
 little way before the box. Royal then went be- 
 hind the box, and with his bar of wood for a 
 lever, he pried the box along ; and he found it 
 moved very easily upon the rollers. 
 
 Lucy wanted a lever too, — and she went and 
 got one ; and then they could both pry the box 
 along, one at each corner, behind. They had to 
 stop occasionally to adjust the rollers, when they 
 worked out of place ; but, by patience and perse- 
 verance, they gradually moved the box along 
 until they came to the gate leading into the inner 
 yard, where the place for the coop had been 
 chosen. 
 
 They found some difficulty in getting it through 
 the gate, because it was too large to go through in 
 c.ny way but by being lifted up upon its side. 
 Royal, however, succeeded in lifting it up, and then 
 in getting it through ; and after that it was but a 
 short work to move it along upon its rollers to its 
 place of destination. 
 
 Royal sat down upon the great, flat stone, and 
 said that he was tired, and that he had a great 
 
BUILDING. 99 
 
 mind not to make a coop after all, — it was such 
 hard work. 
 
 " Then," said Lucy, " I don't think you will 
 he very persevering." 
 
 " I don't believe you know what persevering 
 means," said Royal. 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Lucy ; " Miss Anne told me. 
 It is when you begin to make a coop, and then 
 give up before you get it done." 
 
 Royal burst into a fit of laughter. 
 
 " No," said Lucy ; " not that, exactly. 1 
 mean it is when you don't give up — and I think 
 you ought not to give up now — making this 
 coop." 
 
 " Well," said Royal, " I believe you are light. 
 It would be very foolish to give up our coop now, 
 when we have got all the hardest part of our 
 work done. I'll go and get the corner stakes." 
 
 Royal then went and made four strong stakes 
 for the four corners, and brought them to the 
 place, and drove them down into the ground. He 
 took care to have them at just such a distance 
 from each other, as that they should come as near 
 as possible to the four corners of the box, when it 
 should be placed over them. 
 
 Then he drove a row of stakes along where the 
 sides of the box would come, between the corner 
 
100 
 
 stakes on each side ; and he drove these all down 
 a little lower than the corner stakes, so that, when 
 the box should be placed over them, it would rest 
 upon the corners, and not upon the sides. Before 
 he closed the last side, he rolled the barrel in, and 
 placed it along by the fence. Then he put a 
 roller under it, on the outer side, — so that thus 
 the barrel was confined, and could not move 
 either way. 
 
 " Now, Lucy, we are ready for a raising," said 
 Royal ; " but we shall never be able to get the 
 box up, by ourselves, if we work all day." 
 
 They concluded to ask Joanna to come out 
 again, and help them get the box up. She came 
 very willingly, and all three of them together easi- 
 ly succeeded in putting the heavy box into its 
 place ; and Royal had the satisfaction of perceiv- 
 ing that it fitted very well. Joanna then said that, 
 for aught she could see, their structure would 
 make a very safe and convenient coop. 
 
 When their father and mother came to see their 
 work that evening, their father said that it would 
 do very well for a coop, but that it was too late in 
 the year to get hens. 
 
 l - If I get some hens for you," said he, " it will 
 be several weeks before they lay eggs enough 
 to hatch ; and then the chickens would not have 
 
BUILDING. 101 
 
 grown enough to get out of the way of the cold 
 of the winter. It is full as late now as any brood 
 of chickens ought to come out." 
 
 Royal and Lucy looked greatly disappointed at 
 this unexpected announcement. It was a diffi- 
 culty that had not occurred to them at all. Their 
 father was always very much pressed with his 
 business, and could seldom give much time or at- 
 tention to their plays ; but they thought that, if 
 they could make all the arrangements, so that 
 they could take care of the hens without troubling 
 him, there would be no difficulty at all. They 
 did not know but that hens would lay and hatch 
 as well and as safely at one time as at another. 
 
 Lucy had some corn in her hand. Her father 
 asked her what that was for. She said it was to 
 put into the coop for the hens. She had asked 
 Joanna for some, and she had given it to her, be- 
 cause she said she wanted some corn all ready. 
 
 Here her mother whispered something to he? 
 father, which Lucy and Royal did not hear. 
 
 " Yes," said he, in a low tone, in reply, speak- 
 ing to her mother, " perhaps I can ; very likely." 
 
 Royal wondered what they were talking about, 
 but he did not ask. 
 
 " Well, Lucy," said her father, " throw youi 
 corn into the coop, and about the door ; perhaps 
 
102 lucy's conversations. 
 
 you can catch some hens in it. Who knows but 
 that it will do for a trap ? " 
 
 " O father," said Royal, " you are only making 
 fun of us." 
 
 " Why, you have caught squirrels, haven't you, 
 time and again ? and why not hens ? " 
 
 " Nonsense, father," said Royal ; " there are no 
 hens to come and get caught in traps." 
 
 u Perhaps, Royal, " said Lucy, as she scattered 
 
 her corn into the coop, " Perhaps. We will 
 
 put in the corn, at least, — and leave the door 
 open." 
 
 So Lucy put the corn in and about the door   
 and then the party all went away laughing. Lucy 
 forgot her disappointment in the hope of catching 
 some hens, and Royal in the amusement excited 
 bv such an idea as setting a trap for poultry. 
 
EQUIVOCATION 803 
 
 CONVERSATION IX. 
 
 EQUIVOCATION. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast, the next morning, 
 Lacy went out to look at the coop to see if any 
 hens had been caught ; and when she came back, 
 and said that there were none there, her father said 
 that she must not despair too soon, — sometimes 
 a trap was out several nights before anything was 
 taken. 
 
 That day, after Royal had finished his lessons 
 Lucy called upon him to fulfil his promise of 
 making her a garden. 
 
 " Why, Lucy," said Royal, " I don't think 1 am 
 under any obligation to make you any garden." 
 
 " Yes, Royal," said Lucy, "you promised me 
 that you would, if I would help you make the 
 coop." 
 
 " Well, that was because I expected that we 
 cculd have some hens ; lut, now that we can* 
 not have any hens, the coop will not do us any 
 good at all ; and I don't see that I ought to make 
 you a garden for nothing." 
 
104 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 Lucy did not know how In answer .nis rea 
 Boning, but she was very far from being satisfied 
 with it. She, however, had nothing to say, but 
 that he had agreed to make her a garden, and 
 that she thought he ouorht to do it. 
 
 Royal said that he meant if they got any hens 
 to put into the coop ; and Lucy said she did not 
 believe that he meant any such thing. 
 
 Royal was wrong in refusing thus to fulfil his 
 agreement. And the reason which he gave was 
 not a good reason. He did, indeed, expect, when 
 he made the promise, that he should have somj 
 hens to put into his hen-coop; but he did not 
 make his promise on that condition. The prom- 
 ise was absolute — if she would help him make 
 his coop, he would make her a garden. When 
 she had finished helping him make the coop, her 
 part of the agreement was fulfilled, and he was 
 bound to fulfil his. 
 
 At last Lucy said, 
 
 " If you don't make me a garden, I shall go 
 and tell Joanna of you." 
 
 " Very well," said Royal ; " we will go and 
 leave it to Joanna, and let her decide." 
 
 They went in and stated the case to Joanna. 
 When she heard all the facts, she decided at once 
 against Royal. 
 
EQUIVOCATION. l'J5 
 
 u Certainly you ought to make her a garden," 
 said Joanna. " There bein^ no hens has nothing 
 to do with it. You took the risk. You took the 
 risk." 
 
 Lucy did not understand what Joanna meant 
 by taking the risk, but she understood that the de- 
 cision was in her favor, and she ran off out of the 
 kitchen in great glee. Royal followed her more 
 slowly. 
 
 " Well, Lucy," said he, " I'll make you a gar- 
 den. I'd as lief make it as not." 
 
 He accordingly worked very industriously upon 
 the garden for more than an hour. He dug up 
 all the ground with his hoe, and then raked it 
 over carefully. Then he marked out an alley 
 through the middle of it, for Lucy to walk in, 
 when she was watering her flowers. He also 
 divided the sides into little beds, though the paths 
 between the beds were too narrow to walk in. 
 
 " Now," said he, " Lucy, for the flowers." 
 
 So they set off upon an expedition after flow- 
 ers- They got some in the garden, and some in 
 the fields. Some Royal took up by the roots ; 
 out most of them were broken off at the stem, so 
 as to be stuck down into the ground. Lucy 
 asked him if they would grow ; and he said that 
 be did not know that they would grow much, buf 
 
106 
 
 LUCY S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 they would keep bright and beautiful as long a* 
 she would water them. 
 
 Miss Anne lent Lucy her watering-pot, to 
 water her Sewers, and she said that, after dinner, 
 she would go out and see her garden. Accord- 
 ingly, after dinner, they made preparations to go. 
 While Miss Anne was putting on her sun-bonnet, 
 Royal waited for her ; but Lucy ran out before 
 mem. In a moment, however, after she had gone 
 out, she came running back in the highest state 
 of excitement, calling out, 
 
 " O Royal, we have caught them ! we have 
 caught them ! O, come and see ! come, Miss 
 Anne, come quick and see ! " 
 
 And before they had time to speak to her, or 
 even to ask what she meant, she was away again, 
 calling, as she passed away from hearing, " Come, 
 some, come ! " 
 
 Royal left Miss Anne, and ran off after Lucy. 
 
 Miss Anne herself walked along after them, 
 and found them looking through the bars of the 
 hen-coop, and in a state of the highest delight 
 at the sight of a hen and a large brood of chick- 
 ens, which were walking about within. 
 
 " O, look, Miss Anne ! " said Lucy, clapping 
 her hands as Miss Anne came up. " A real hen, 
 and ever so man> chickens ! " 
 
EQUIVOCATION. 107 
 
 " Where could they have come from ? " said 
 Miss Anne. 
 
 " O, we caught them," said Lucy ; " we 
 caught them. I told you, Royal, that perhaps we 
 should catch some. ,, 
 
 " How did they get here ? " said Royal. " It 
 is some of father's sly work, I know. Do you 
 know, Miss Anne, how they came here ? " 
 
 " Let us see how many chickens there are," 
 said Miss Anne. " One, two, three," — and so 
 she went on counting up to thirteen. 
 
 " Thirteen," said Lucy ; " only think ! More 
 than Joanna's, isn't it, Royal ? Thirteen is more 
 than eleven, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, two more," said Royal ; " but, Miss 
 Anne, don't you know how they came here ? " 
 
 Miss Anne looked rather sly, but did not an- 
 swer. She said to Lucy, 
 
 " Well, Lucy, let us go and see your garden." 
 
 Lucy did not now care so much about her 
 garden ; she was more interested in the chickens , 
 however, they all went to look at it, and Miss 
 Anne praised it very highly. She said the flow 
 f rs looked beautifully. 
 
 " And now, Miss Anne," said Lucy, *' when 
 ever I want any flowers, I can come out here and 
 gather them out of my garden." 
 
f08 
 
 " yes," said Miss Anne, " as long as they 
 last." 
 
 " O, they will last all the time," said Lucy. 
 
 " Will they ? " said Miss Anne, rather doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy ; " I am going to water 
 them," 
 
 " That will help," replied Miss Anne, " I have 
 no doubt." 
 
 " I can keep them fresh as long as I want to, 
 in that way," said Lucy. " Royal said so." 
 
 " Did you, Royal ? " asked Miss Anne. 
 
 " No," said Royal. " I said that they would 
 keep fresh as long as she watered them." 
 
 kfc That wasn't quite honest, was it, Royal ? 
 for they won't keep fresh more than two days." 
 
 •' : Well," said Royal, " and she won't have pa- 
 tience to water them more than one day." 
 
 " That's equivocation," said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Equivocation ? " repeated Royal ; " what do 
 yju mean by that ? " 
 
 " It is when anything you say has two senses, 
 and it is true in one sense, and not true in another ; 
 and you mean to have any person understand it 
 11 the sense in which it is not true." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" said Lucy. 
 
 u Why, I will give you an example. Once 
 
EQUIVOCATION. 109 
 
 there was a boy who told his brother William, 
 that there was a black dog up in the garret, and 
 William ran up to see. His brother came up b© 
 hind him, and, when they opened the garret dooi „ 
 he pointed to an old andiron, such as are called 
 dogs, and said, ' See ! there he is, standing on three 
 legs."' 
 
 Royal laughed very heartily at this story. He 
 was much more amused at the waggery of such 
 a case of equivocation, than impressed with the 
 dishonesty of it. 
 
 " Miss Anne," said he, " I don't see that there 
 was any great harm in that." 
 
 " Equivocation is not wrong always," said Miss 
 Anne. " Riddles are often equivocations." 
 
 " Tell us one," said Royal 
 
 " Why, there is your old riddle of the carpentei 
 cutting the door. He cut it, and cut it, and cut 
 it, and cut it too little ; then he cut it again, and 
 it fitted." 
 
 " Is that an equivocation ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne ; " the equivocation is 
 in the word little. It may mean that he cut to* 
 little, *r that he cut until the door was too little. 
 Now, when you give out that riddle, you mean 
 that the person whom you are talking with, 
 should understand it in the last sense; that is 
 10 
 
110 LUCYS CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 that he cut until the door was too little, and then 
 that he cut it more, and it was just right. But 
 it cannot be true in that sense. It is true onlj 
 in the other sense ; that is, that he did not cut 
 it enough, and then, when he cut it more, he made 
 it fit. So that he cut it too little, has two senses. 
 The words are true in one sense ; but you mean 
 to have them understood in the other sense, in 
 which they cannot be true. And that is an equiv- 
 ocation, 
 
 '•' But, then," continued Miss Anne, ' ; equivoca 
 fjons in riddles are certainly not wrong ; but equiv- 
 ocations in our dealings with one another certainly 
 are." 
 
 " I don't think that the boy that said there was 
 a dog up garret did any thing wrong," said Royal. 
 
 " I do," said Lucy, putting down her little foot 
 with great emphasis. " I think he did very wrong 
 indeed." 
 
 " O no, Lucy," said Miss Anne, " not very 
 wrong indeed. Perhaps it was not quite right. 
 But it is certainly wrong to gain any advantage 
 from any person in your dealings with them, by 
 equivocation." 
 
 " Did I ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Yes, I think you did, a little. You told Lucy 
 that the flowers would keep fresh as long as she 
 
EQUIVOCATION. Ill 
 
 would water them. You meant her to understand 
 it absolutely ; but it is true only in another sense." 
 
 " In what sense ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Why, as long as she ivould be likely to water 
 them ; which is a very different thing. Perhaps 
 she would not have been willing to make the 
 bargain with you, if she had understood that she 
 could not keep them fresh by watering them, more 
 than a day or two." 
 
 While they had been talking thus, they had 
 gradually been walking towards the house, and 
 they had now reached the door. Miss Anne 
 went in, and Lucy and Royal went to the hen- 
 coop to see the hen and chickens. 
 
 Lucy went to get some corn, but Joanna told 
 <ier that crumbs of bread would be better, and 
 lien the old hen could break them up into small 
 pieces, and feed her chickens with them. She 
 accordingly gave her some small pieces of bread, 
 which Lucy earned back ; and she and Royal 
 amused themselves for a long time, by throwing 
 crumbs in through the spaces between the sticks. 
 
 While they were talking about them, Roya 
 happened to speak of them as his hen and chick- 
 ens, and Lucy said that she thought he ought not 
 to have them all. She wanted some herself, — at 
 least some of the chickens. 
 
112 lucy's conversations. 
 
 u O no," said Royal ; " they are altogether 
 mine; it is my coop." 
 
 " No," replied Lucy ; " I helped you make the 
 coop, and I mean to have some of the cliickens. ,; 
 
 " Yes, but, Lucy, you promised me that 1 
 should have the coop anr* the hens, if I would 
 make you a garden." 
 
 " Yes, but not the chickens,' ' said Lucy ; " I did 
 not say a word about the chickens/' 
 
 " O Lucy, that was because we did not expect 
 to have an) chickens ; but it is all the same 
 thing." 
 
 " What is all the same thing ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Why, hens and chickens," said Royal. 
 
 " O Royal," said Lucy, " they are very differ- 
 ent indeed." Lucy looked through the bars of the 
 hen-coop, at the hen and chickens, and was quite 
 surprised that Royal could say that they were all 
 the same thing. 
 
 " In a bargain, Lucy, I mean ; in a bargain, I 
 mean. If you make a bargain about hens, you 
 mean all the chickens too." 
 
 " J didn't, I am sure," said Lucy ; " I nevet 
 thought of such a thing as the chickens ; and be 
 sides, you did not make me such a garden as you 
 oromised me." 
 
 " Whv, yes I did," said Royal. 
 
EQUIVOCATION. 113 
 
 •< No," said Lucy, "you told me an equivo- 
 cation." 
 
 Royal laughed. 
 
 " You did, Royal ; you know you did ; and 
 Miss Anne said so. 
 
 " J think it was a falsehood, myself," continued 
 Lucy, " or almost a falsehood." 
 
 " O no, Lucy ; 1 don't think you would water 
 them more than one day, and 1 knew that they 
 would keep fresh as long as that." 
 
 Lucy was silent. She did not know exactly 
 how to reply to Royal's reasoning ; but she 
 thought it was very hard, that out of the whole 
 thirteen chickens, Royal would not let her have 
 any to call hers. 
 
 She told Royal that she only wanted two ; if 
 he would let her have two, she should be satis- 
 fied ; — but Royal said that he wanted them all ; 
 that she had the garden, and he must have the 
 h*n and chickens. 
 
 Lucy might very probably have said something 
 further on the subject; but at that moment she 
 spied a little chicken, with black and yellow 
 feathers, just creeping through between the bars 
 of the coop. A moment more, and he was fairly 
 out upon tne grass outside. 
 
 in* 
 
114 lucy's conversations. 
 
 " O Royal ! n exclaimed Lucy, " one is out 
 one is out ! 1 can catch him." 
 
 "No," said Royal, "let me catch him. You 
 will hurt him." 
 
 They hoth started up, and ran after the chicken ; 
 while he, frightened at their pursuit, and at \m 
 strange situation in the grass, ran off farther and 
 farther, peeping with great earnestness and noise 
 Royal caught at him, but did not catch him. He 
 darted off towards where Lucy was, and at that 
 instant Lucy clapped her hand over him, and 
 held him a prisoner. 
 
 The poor hen was much alarmed at the cries 
 of the lost chicken ; and she pushed her head 
 through the bars of the cage, trying to get out, 
 and apparently in great distress. 
 
 " Give him to me," said Royal, " and I'll put 
 him back again." 
 
 " No," said Lucy, " I am going to carry him in, 
 and show him to Joanna." 
 
 " O, well," said Royal, " only give him to me. 
 and let me carry him. You will hurt him." 
 
 " No, I won't hurt him," said Lucy ; " I will l»« 
 very careful indeed." 
 
 So she put the tender little animal very gently 
 n one of her hands, and covered him with tli* 
 >ther. 
 
EQUIVOCATION. 
 
 II? 
 
 " O, what soft feathers ! " said Lucy. 
 
 "Yes," said Royal; "and see his little bill 
 sticking out between your fingers ! " 
 
 Thus they went into the house, — first to Jo- 
 anna, and afterwards to Miss Anne ; and the 
 hen, when the lost chicken was out of hearing, 
 soon regained her composure. She had a dozen 
 chickens left, and as she could not count, she did 
 »at know but that there were thirteen. 
 
118 
 
 CONVERSATION X. 
 JOHNNY. 
 
 Miss Anne was very much pleased to see tlie 
 ^ttle chicken. She sent Royal out after a small, 
 square piece of board. While he was gone, she 
 got a small flake of cotton batting, and also an 
 old work-basket, from the upper shelf of her 
 closet. Then, when Royal came in with the 
 Doard, she put the cotton upon it, shaping it in 
 the form of a nest. She put the chicken upon 
 this nest, and then turned the basket down over 
 it, which formed a sort of cage, to keep the little 
 prisoner from getting away. Royal and Lucy 
 could look through the open-work of the basket, 
 and see him. 
 
 But Miss Anne, though pleased with the chick- 
 en, was very sorry to find that Royal had so mo- 
 nopolizing a spirit. A monopolizing spirit is an 
 eager desire to get for ourselves, alone, that which 
 others ought to have a share of. Royal wanted 
 to own the hen and chickens himself, and to 
 exclude, or ^hut out, Lucy from all share of them 
 
JOHNNY. 119 
 
 He wished to monopolize them. Too eager a 
 desire to get what others have, is sometimes called 
 covetowness. Miss Anne resolved to have a con- 
 versation with Royal about his monopolizing and 
 covetous disposition. 
 
 She did not, however, have a very good oppor- 
 tunity until several days after this ; but then a 
 circumstance occurred which naturally introduced 
 the subject. 
 
 The circumstance was this. 
 
 The children were taking a walk with Miss 
 Anne. They went to a considerable distance 
 from the house, by a path through the woods, and 
 came at length to the banks of a mill stream. 
 The water tumbled over the rocks which filled 
 the bed of the stream. There was a narrow road 
 along the bank, and Miss Anne turned into this 
 road, and walked along up towards the mill, which 
 was only a short distance above. 
 
 They saw, before them, at a little distance, a 
 boy about as large as Royal, cutting off the end 
 of a long, slender pole. 
 
 " O, see what a beautiful fishing-pole that bov 
 has got ! " said Royal. 
 
 " Is that a fishing-pole ? " said Lucy. 
 
 Just then the boy called out, as if he was 
 speaking to somebody in the bushes. 
 
120 
 
 " Come, George ; ain't you most ready ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered George, " I have got mine 
 just ready; but I want to get a little one for 
 Johnny." 
 
 " O, never mind Johnny," said the other boy ; 
 "he can't fish." 
 
 By this time, the children had advanced so far 
 that they could see George and Johnny, in a little 
 open place among the bushes. George was about 
 as large as the other boy ; and he was just finish- 
 ing the trimming up of another pole, very much 
 like the one which the children had seen first. 
 There was a very small boy standing by him, 
 who, as the children supposed, was Johnny. He 
 was looking on, while George finished his pole. 
 
 " I would not get Johnny one," said the boy 
 in the road. " He can't do any thing with it." 
 
 " No," said George, " but he will like to have 
 one, so that he can make believe fish ; shouldn't 
 you, Johnny ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Johnny ; or rather he said some- 
 thing that meant yes ; for he could not speak very 
 plain. 
 
 "Well," said tie boy in the road, " I am nol 
 going to wait any longer." He accordingly shul 
 up his knife, put it into his pocket, and walked 
 along. 
 
Johnny. 121 
 
 George scrambled back into the bushes, and 
 began to look about for a pole for Johnny. Miss 
 Anne and the children were now opposite to 
 them. 
 
 " Johnny," said Miss Anne, "do you expect 
 that you can catch fishes ? " 
 
 Johnny did not answer, but stood motionless, 
 gazing upon the strangers in silent wonder. 
 
 Miss Anne smiled, and walked on, and the 
 children followed her. Presently George and 
 Johnny came up behind them, — George walk- 
 ing fast, and Johnny trotting along by his side. 
 When they had got before them a little way, 
 they turned out of the road into a path which led 
 down towards the stream, which here was at a 
 little distance from the road. The path led in 
 among trees and bushes ; and so Miss Anne and 
 ihe children soon lost sight of them entirely. 
 
 " George seems to be a strange sort of a boy," 
 said Mis? Anne. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Royal. 
 
 " Why, he cannot be contented to have a fish- 
 ing-pole himself, unless little Johnny has one 
 too." 
 
 *' Is that very strange? " asked Royal. 
 
 " I thought it was rather unusual." said Miss 
 11 
 
122 
 
 Anue. " Boys generally want to get things foi 
 themselves; but I did not know that they were 
 usually so desirous to have their brothers grati- 
 fied too." 
 
 " I do," said Royal ; " that is, I should, if I 
 had a brother big enough." 
 
 " You have a sister," said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Well," said Royal, " if I was going a fishing, 
 and Lucy was going too, 1 should want to have 
 her have a fishing-pole as well as I." 
 
 " It is not always so with boys, at any rate," 
 said Miss Anne. " And that makes me think of a 
 curious thing that happened once. A little boy, 
 whom I knew, had a beautiful picture-book spoiled 
 by a little gray dog, in a very singular way." 
 
 " How was it? " said Royal. 
 
 "Tell us, Miss Anne," said Lucy; "tell us 
 all about it." 
 
 " Well, this boy's father bought him a very beau- 
 tiful picture-book, with colored pictures in it, and 
 brought it home, and gave it to him. And the 
 next day the little gray dog spoiled it entirely." 
 
 " How ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Guess." 
 
 " Why, he bit it, and tore it to pieces with his 
 teeth, I suppose, " said Lucy. 
 
JOHNNY. 123 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne. 
 
 " Then he must have trampled on it with nis 
 muddy feet," said Royal. 
 
 " No." said Miss Anne, " it could not oe m 
 any such way, for it was not a live dog." 
 
 " Not a live dog ! " said Lucy. 
 
 " No, it was a little glass dog, — gray glass , 
 only he had black ears and tail." 
 
 " I don't see how he could spoil a book," said 
 Royal. 
 
 " He did," answered Miss Anne. 
 
 " The book gave Joseph a great deal of pleas- 
 ure before the dog came, and after that, it was 
 good for nothing to him." 
 
 " Joseph ? " said Royal ; " who was he ? " 
 
 " Why, he was the little boy that had the book. 
 Didn't I tell you his name before? " 
 
 " No," said Royal ; " but tell us how the dog 
 spoiled the book." 
 
 " Why, you must understand," said Miss Anne, 
 " that Joseph had a little sister at home, named 
 Mary ; and when their father brought home the 
 Dook to Joseph, he had nothing for Mary. Bui 
 the next day, he was in a toy-shop, and he saw 
 this little glass dog, and he thought that it would 
 be a very pretty little present for Mary. So 
 he bought it, and carried it home to her." 
 
124 LUCVs CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 " Well, Miss Anne, tell on," said Lucy, when 
 she found that Miss Anne paused, as if she was 
 not going to say anything more. 
 
 " Why, that is about all," said Miss Anne, 
 " only that he gave the dog to Mary." 
 
 " But you said that the dog spoiled Joseph's 
 book." 
 
 " So it did. You see, when Joseph came to see 
 the dog, he wanted it himself, so much that he 
 threw his book down upon the floor, and came 
 begging for the dog ; and he could not take 
 any pleasure at all in the book after that." 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Royal ; " I supposed it was 
 going to be something different from that." 
 
 " Then you don't think it is much of a storv ! " 
 
 " No," said Royal. 
 
 " Nor I," said Lucy. 
 
 " Well, now, J thought," said Miss Anne, " that 
 that was rather a singular way for a dog to spoil a 
 picture-book." 
 
 There was a moment's pause after Miss Anne 
 had said these words ; and then, an instant af- 
 terwards, the whole party came suddenly out 
 of the woods ; and the mill, with a bridge near it, 
 crossing the stream, came into view. 
 
 " O, there is a bridge," said Lucy ; " let us go 
 over that bridge." 
 
JOIINNY. 125 
 
 " Well," said Royal, " so we will. 
 
 They walked on towards the bridge ; but, just 
 before they got to it, Royal observed that there 
 were ledges of rocks below the bridge, running 
 out into the water; and he said that he should 
 rather go down upon those rocks. 
 
 Miss Anne said that she should like to go down 
 there too, very much, if she thought it was safe ; 
 and she concluded to go down, slowly and carefully, 
 and see. They found that, by exercising great 
 caution, they could advance farther than they had 
 supposed. Sometimes Royal, who was pretty 
 strong, helped Miss Anne and Lucy down a steep 
 place ; and sometimes they had to step over a 
 narrow portion of the torrent. They found them- 
 selves at last all seated safely upon the margin of 
 a rocky island, in the middle of the stream, with 
 the water foaming, and roaring, and shooting swift- 
 ly by, all around them. 
 
 " There," said Royal, " isn't this a good place I " 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy ; " I never saw the water 
 run so much before." 
 
 " Children," said Miss Anne, " look down 
 there!" 
 
 " Where ? " said Royal. 
 
 u There, upon the bank, under the trees, down 
 11* 
 
126 
 
 on that side of the stream, — a little below that 
 large, white rock." 
 
 " Some boys," said Royal. They're fishing." 
 
 " I see 'em," said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said Royal, " they are the same boys 
 we saw in the road." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne ; " and don't you see 
 Johnny running about with his pole ? " 
 
 " Where ? " said Lucy ; " which is Johnny ? " 
 
 " That's he," said Royal, " running about. 
 Now he's gone down to a sandy place upon the 
 shore. See, he's reaching out with his pole, as far 
 as he can, upon the water ; he is trying to reach a 
 little piece of board that is floating by. There, 
 he has got it, and is pulling it in." 
 
 " I am glad George got him a pole," said Miss 
 Anne. 
 
 " So am I," said Royal. 
 
 " And so am I," said Lucy. 
 
 " It seems George is happier himself, if Johnny 
 has something to make him happy too ; but the 
 other boy isn't." 
 
 " How do you know that he isn't ? " asked 
 Luc) . 
 
 " Why, he did not want George to stop. He 
 had got a pole himself, and he did not care any 
 thing about Johnny's having one " 
 
JOHNNY. 127 
 
 - V r es," said Royal, " so I think." 
 
 " Some children," said Miss Anne, " when 
 tney have anything that they like, always want 
 their brothers and sisters to have something too , 
 and George seems to be one of them. 
 
 " And that makes me think," continued Miss 
 Anne, " of the story of the horse and the picture- 
 hook." 
 
 " What is the story ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Why, it is a story of a little wooden horse, 
 which, instead of spoiling a picture-book, as the 
 dog did, made it much more valuable." 
 
 " Tell us all about it," said Lucy. 
 
 " Very well, I will," said Miss Anne. " There 
 was once a boy named David. His uncle sent 
 him, one new year's day, a picture-book. There 
 was a picture on every page, and two on the cover. 
 He liked his picture-book very much indeed ; but 
 one thing diminished the pleasure he took in look- 
 ing at it." 
 
 " What do you mean by diminished 1 " asked 
 I <ucy. 
 
 " Why, made it smaller," said Royal. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne ; " and the circumstance 
 which made his pleasure in the picture-book less 
 than it otherwise would have been, was, that his 
 little brother Georgie had no new book or play 
 
128 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 thing. David showed Georgie his book, and 
 sometimes let him have it by himself; but he 
 would have liked it better, if Georgie had had » 
 present of his own." 
 
 {; And now about the horse ? " said Royal 
 
 "'Well, — that evening, when these boys' fa 
 ther came home to supper, he brought something 
 tied up in a paper, which, he said, was for Georgie. 
 David took it, and ran to find Georgie, — hoping 
 that it was some present for him. Georgie opened 
 it, and found that it was a handsome wooden 
 horse, on wheels, — with a long red cord for a 
 bridle, to draw him about by. David was very 
 much pleased at this ; and now he could go and 
 sit down upon his cricket, and look at his book, 
 with a great deal more pleasure ; for Georgie had 
 a present too. So, you see, the horse made 
 the picture-book more valuable." 
 
 The children sat still a short time, thinking of 
 what Miss Anne had said ; and at length Royal 
 raid, 
 
 "Are these stories which you have been telririg 
 tis true, Miss Anne? " 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne, quietly. 
 
 " Then you made them up." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne. 
 
 " What for ? " said Lucy. 
 
JOHNNY. 129 
 
 'Why, to show you and Royal," said Miss 
 Anne, " tne difference between a monopolizing 
 and covetous spirit, and one of generosity aud be- 
 nevolence, which leads us to wish to have other? 
 possess and enjoy, as well as ourselves." 
 
 Royal, pretty soon after this, proposed thkt he 
 and Lucy should find some sticks upon the little 
 island, where they were sitting, and threw them 
 upon the water, and see them sail down ; and 
 they did accordingly amuse themselves in this 
 way for some time. Lucy was very much amused 
 to see the sticks shoot along the rapids, and dive 
 down the little cascades among the rocks. Miss 
 Anne helped them throw in one piece of plank, 
 which had drifted down from the mill, and which 
 was too large and heavy for them to lift alone. 
 They watched this for some time, as it floated 
 away far down the stream. 
 
 At last, it was time to go home ; and they all 
 went back, very carefully, over the stones, until 
 they got back to the shore ; and then they walked 
 home by a new way, over a hill, where they had 
 a beautiful prospect. 
 
 That night, just before sundown, when Royal 
 and Lucy went out to see their chickens, Royal 
 told Lucy that she might have the little black 
 chicken ana two others for her own. 
 
130 
 
 u Well/' said Lucy, clapping her hands, " and 
 will you let me keep them in your coop ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Royal ; "or I will let you 
 Dwn the coop with me ; — you shall have a share 
 in the coop, in proportion to your share of the 
 chickens." 
 
 " In proportion ? " said Lucy ; " what does that 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Why, just as much of the coop as you have 
 of the chickens," said Royal. 
 
 "Well," said Lucy, "how much of the coop 
 will it be, for three chickens ? " 
 
 " O, I don't know," said Royal. 
 
 " So much ? " said Lucy, putting her hand 
 upon the side of the coop, so as to mark off a 
 small portion of it. 
 
 " O, I don't mean," said Royal, " to divide it. 
 We will own it all together, in partnership ; only 
 you shall have a small share, just in proportion to 
 your chickens." 
 
 Lucy did not understand this very well, but she 
 thought more about the chickens than about the 
 coop ; and she began to look at them, one by 
 one, carefully, to consider which she should have 
 for hers. She chose two, besides the black one ; 
 and she said that she meant to get Miss Anne 
 to nanw them for her. 
 
JOHNNT. 
 
 131 
 
 Royal took a great deal of pleasure, after this, 
 every time that he came out to see his chickens, 
 in observing how much interest Lucy took, everj 
 day, in coming to see her chickens, and how much 
 enjoy? aent it afforded her to be admitted thus to z 
 *hare in the property. 
 
1&2 lucy's conversations. 
 
 CONVERSATION XI 
 GETTING LOST. 
 
 One afternoon, a short time after dinner, Lucy 
 ♦vas sitting upon a seat under a trellis, near the 
 door which led towards the garden, when her 
 mother came out. 
 
 " Lucy," said she, " 1 have got some rather bad 
 news for you." 
 
 " What is it ? " said Lucy. 
 
 "lam rather afraid to tell you, for fear it will 
 make you cry." 
 
 " O no, mother ; I shall not cry," said Lucy. 
 
 " Well," said her mother, " we shall see. The 
 news is, that we are all going away this afternoon, 
 and are going to leave you at home." 
 
 " What, all alone ? " said Lucy. 
 
 "Not quite alone; for Joanna will be here," 
 said her mother. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " We are going away, to ride." 
 
 " Why can't I go too ? " said Lucy. 
 
GETTING L.OST. 
 
 133 
 
 " I can explain the reason better when we 
 come back," answered her mother. 
 
 Lucy did not cry ; though she found it very 
 hard to refrain. Her father and mother, and Miss 
 Anne and Royal, were all going, and she had to 
 remain at home. They were going, too, in a kind 
 of barouche ; and when it drove up to the door, 
 Lucy thought there would be plenty of room for 
 her. She found it hard to submit ; but submission 
 was made somewhat easier by her mother's not 
 giving her any reasons. When a mother gives 
 a girl reasons why she cannot have something 
 which she is very strongly interested in, they sel- 
 dom satisfy her, for she is not in a state of mind 
 to consider them impartially. It only sets her to 
 attempting to answer the reasons, and thus to agi- 
 tate and disturb her mind more than is necessary 
 It is therefore generally best not to explain the 
 reasons until afterwards, when the mind of the 
 child is in a better condition to feel their force. 
 
 After the barouche drove away, Lucy went out 
 into the kitchen to see Joanna ; and she asked 
 Joanna what she should do. Joanna advised her 
 to go out and play in the yard until she had got 
 her work done, and then to come in and sit with 
 her Lucy did so. She playeo aboit in the 
 12 
 
134 
 
 grass until Joanna called from the window, and 
 told her that she was ready. 
 
 Then Lucy came in. She found the kitchen 
 all arranged in good order, and Joanna was just 
 sitting down before a little table, at the window, 
 to sew. Lucy got her basket of blocks, and began 
 to build houses in the middle of the floor. 
 
 "Joanna," said she, after a little while, "I 
 wish you would tell me something more about 
 when you were a farmer's daughter.'' 
 
 " Why, I am a farmer's daughter now," said 
 Joanna. 
 
 " But I mean when you were a little girl, and 
 lived among the stumps," said Lucy. 
 
 " Well," said Joanna, — " what shall I tell you 
 about ? Let me see. — O, I'll tell you how I got 
 lost in the woods, one day." 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Lucy, " I should like to hear 
 about that very much indeed." 
 
 " One day," said Joanna, " my father was go- 
 ing a fishing, and my brother was going with 
 him." 
 
 " The same one that made your hen-coop ? " 
 asked Lucy. 
 
 " No, he was a bigger one than that. I asked 
 my father to let me go too. At first he said I was 
 too little ; but afterwards he said I might go." 
 
GETTING LOST. 136 
 
 u How big were you ? " said Lucy. 
 
 "I was just about your age," said Joaina 
 "My mother said I could not possibly walk sc 
 far ; but father said I should not have to walk bu 
 a little way, for he was going down the brook in 
 a boat. 
 
 " So father concluded to let me go, and we 
 started off, — all three together. We went across 
 the road, and then struck right into the woods " 
 
 " Struck ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes ; that is, we went right in." 
 
 " O," said Lucy. 
 
 " We walked along by a sort of cart-road a lit- 
 tle while, until we came to a place where I just 
 began to see some water through the trees. Fa- 
 ther said it was the brook. 
 
 " When we got down to it, I found that it was 
 a pretty wide brook ; and the water was deep and 
 pretty still. There was a boat in the brook. The 
 boat was tied to a tree upon the shore ; my brother 
 got in, and then my father put me in ; and after- 
 wards he untied the boat, and threw the rope in, 
 and then got in himself. Then there were three 
 of us in." 
 
 ? Wasn't you afraid ? " said Lucy. 
 
 "Yes, I was afraid that the boat would tip 
 over; but father said that it wouldn't. But he 
 
136 LUCY 1 S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 said that I must sit still, if I didn't want the boat 
 to upset. So I sat as still as I could, and watched 
 the trees and bushes, moving upon the shore." 
 
 " I wish I could go and sail in a boat," said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " It is very pleasant," said Joanna, " when the 
 water is smooth and still. The branches of the 
 trees hung over the water where we were sailing 
 along, and one time we sailed under them, and 
 my brother broke me off a long willow stick. 
 
 " After a time, we came to the end of the brook, 
 where it emptied into the pond." 
 
 " Emptied ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes ; that is, where it came out into the pond." 
 
 " Do brooks run into ponds ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " Not always," said Joanna ; " sometimes they 
 run into other larger brooks, and sometimes into 
 rivers, and sometimes into ponds. This brook ran 
 into a pond ; and when we came to the end of 
 the brook, our boat sailed right out into a pond. 
 This pond was the place where they were going 
 to catch the fishes." 
 
 "Why didn't they catch the fishes in tine 
 brook ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 "I believe they could not catch such large 
 fishes there," said Joanna. " At any rate, they 
 went out into the pond. There was a point oi 
 
GETTING LOST. 137 
 
 .and at the mouth of the brook, and when my 
 father had got out around this point, he began 
 to fish." 
 
 " Did he catch any ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " He caught one, and my brother caught one ; 
 and after that, they could not catch any more for 
 some time. At last, my father said it was not 
 worth while for them both to stay there all the 
 afternoon, and that my brother might go back home 
 oy a road across through the woods, and he would 
 stay and see what luck he should have himself. 
 He said, too, that I might stay with him, if J 
 chose." 
 
 " And did you ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " No," replied Joanna. " At first, I thought 1 
 should like to stay with father ; but then I had al- 
 ready become pretty tired of sitting in the boat 
 with nothing to do, and so I concluded to go with 
 my brother. Besides, I wanted to see what sort 
 of a road it was across through the woods. 
 
 " My father then took his line in, and paddled 
 the boat to the shore, to let me and my brother 
 get out. Then he went back to his fishing-ground 
 again, and let down his line. As for my brother 
 and myself, we went along a little way, until we 
 came to a large pine-tree, which stood not very 
 far from the shore of the pond ; and there we 
 
138 
 
 turned into the woods, and walked along to 
 gether." 
 
 " And was it in these woods that ycu got lost ? * 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " Not exactly," said Joanna ; " but I will tell 
 you all about it. We went along a little way 
 without any difficulty, but presently we came to 
 a bog." 
 
 " What is a bog ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " Why, it is a low, wet place, where wild grass 
 and rushes grow. The path led through this bog, 
 and brother said he did not think that I could get 
 along very well." 
 
 " I should not think that he could get along 
 himself," said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," answered Joanna, " he could get along 
 by stepping upon the stones and hummocks of 
 grass ; and he tried to carry me, at first ; but he 
 soon found that it would be a great deal of work, 
 and he said that I had better go back to my fa- 
 ther, and get into the boat, and stay with him. 
 
 " I said, ' Well ; ' and he carried me back as 
 far as to hard ground ; and then he told me to go 
 back by the path, until I came to the pine-tree ; 
 and then he said I should only have to follow the 
 shore of the pond, a short distance, when I should 
 come in sight of father's boat." 
 
GETTING LOST. 139 
 
 " Yes, but how could you get into the boat/' 
 baid Lucy, :( without getting wet, when it was so 
 far from the shore ? " 
 
 " O, I could call to my father, and he would 
 come to the shore and take me in," said Joanna. 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " tell on." 
 
 " I walked along the path, without any trou- 
 ble, until I came to the great pine-tree, where I 
 saw a woodpecker." 
 
 " A woodpecker ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes ; that is, a kind of a bird which pecks 
 the bark and wood of old trees, to get bugs 
 and worms out of it, to eat." 
 
 "I should not think that bu^s and worms 
 would be good to eat," said Lucy. 
 
 " They are good for woodpeckers," said Joan- 
 na. "This woodpecker was standing upon the 
 side of the great pine-tree, clinging to the bark. 
 He has sharp claws, and can cling to the bark 
 upon the side of a tree. I looked at him a ruin- 
 ate, and then went on. 
 
 "I followed the shore of the pond, until I 
 •^ame to the place where we had left my father 
 fishing ; but when I looked out upon the water 
 there, the boat was nowhere to be seen. I was 
 very much frightened." 
 
 " Where was he gone ? " said Lucy. 
 
140 lucy's conversations. 
 
 " I did not know then," said Joanna ; " but 1 
 learned afterwards that he had found that he 
 could not catch any fishes there, and so he con~ 
 eluded to go up the brook again, and see if he 
 could not catch any there. I did not know this 
 then, and I could not think what had become 
 of him. I was frightened. I did not see how 
 I could ever find my way home again. What 
 do you think I did first ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Lucy. " What was it ? " 
 
 " I called out, Father ! Father ! Father ! 
 as loud as I could call ; and then I listened for 
 a reply, — but I could not hear any." 
 
 " Then what did you do ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " Why, I began to consider whether I could 
 not go home the way that my brother had gone, 
 by walking along through the mud, even if it 
 was deep. 1 thought I had better get my feet 
 wet and muddy than stay there in the woods 
 and starve." 
 
 " Well, d.d you go that way ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " No," said Joanna ; " on thinking more of it, 
 I was afraid to go. I did not know but that the 
 mud would be deep enough somewhere to drown 
 me ; and then, besides, I did not know that 1 
 could find the way, any farther than I had gone 
 with my brother 
 
GETTING LOST. 143 
 
 "The next plan I thought of, was to follow 
 the shore of the brook up. You remember that 
 we came down the brook, in the boat ; and of 
 course I knew that, if I went up the brook, either 
 on the water or close to it, upon the shore, I 
 should be going back towards home. I tried 
 this way, but I found that I could not get along." 
 
 " Why couldn't you get along ? " asked Lucy 
 
 kC Because," said Joanna, " the trees and bush 
 es were so thick, and the ground was so wot 
 and swampy, in some places, that I couldn't get 
 through. Then I came back, and sat down 
 upon a log, near the shore of the pond, and be- 
 gan to cry." 
 
 " And didn't you ever get home ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Certainly," said Joanna, laughing, " or else 
 how could I be here now to tell the story ? " 
 
 c< O ! — yes," said Lucy. " But how did 
 you get home ? " 
 
 " Why, pretty soon I thoug'it that the Dest 
 plan would be for me to stay j.ist where I was, 
 for I thought that as soon as my father and 
 brother should both get home, and find that I was 
 not there, they would come after me; and if 
 they came after me, 1 knew they would come, 
 first of all, to the place where my brother had 
 told me tc go, near the mouth of the brook. Sc 
 
144 
 
 I concluded that I would wait patiently there 
 until they came. 
 
 " I waited all the afternoon, and they did no! 
 ^ome ; and at last the sun went down and still 1 
 was there alone." 
 
 f • Why did not they come for you sooner ? " 
 asked Lucy. 
 
 " Why, the reason was, that my father did 
 not get home until night. When he went up 
 the brook, he found a place where he could 
 catch fishes quite fast ; and so he staid there all 
 the afternoon. He thought I was safe at home 
 with my brother. And my brother, who was 
 at home all this time, thought that I was safe in 
 the boat with my father. 
 
 " When it began to grow dark, I thought I 
 should have to stay in the woods all night ; but 
 then I thought that, at any rate, they would 
 come for me the next morning ; and I began to 
 look around for a good place to lie down and 
 go to sleep. But, just then, I heard a noise, 
 like a noise in the water, through the woods ; 
 and 1 looked that way, and saw a light glancing 
 along through the trees. It was my father and 
 brother coming down the brook in the boat. I 
 called out to them as loud as I could, and they 
 heard me and answered. They came round the 
 
GETTING LOST. 145 
 
 point of land, anil then up to the shore where I 
 was, and took me in. And so I got home." 
 
 Here Lucy drew a long breath, very much 
 relieved to find that Joanna was safe home again. 
 
 " What did you do when you got home ? M 
 said she. 
 
 '< I don't recollect very well," said Joanna, 
 " only I remember that my mother let me sit up 
 pretty late, and eat some of father's fishes, which 
 she fried for supper." 
 
 When Miss Anne came home that night, Lucy 
 told her the story which Joanna had related to 
 her. She told her while Miss Anne was putting 
 her to bed. Lucy said that she should like to 
 be lost in the woods. 
 
 " O no," said Miss Anne, " you would not 
 like the reality. It makes an interesting story 
 to relate, but the thing itself must be very dis- 
 tressing." 
 
 " Well, at any rate," said Lucy, " I should like 
 to sail under the trees in a boat." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " that would be plea* 
 ant, no doubt." 
 
 •* And to see a woodpecker," said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, v^ry likely." said Miss Anne 
 13 
 
146 lucy's conversations. 
 
 CONVERSATION XII. 
 
 LUCY'S SCHOLAR. 
 
 After this, Lucy often " played boat" for 
 amusement. She built her boat of chairs and 
 crickets, and had the hearth brush for a paddle. 
 
 One evening, just after tea, when she was 
 playing in this way, in the parlor, Royal looking 
 on, she said to Miss Anne, 
 
 44 1 wish we had a real boat." 
 
 " A real boat," said Miss Anne, " would do no 
 good, unless you had a place to sail it in." 
 
 " Couldn't we sail it in our brook?" asked 
 Lucy. 
 
 " No indeed," said Royal ; " there is scarcely 
 water enough in our brook to float my turtle." 
 
 u O Royal," said Lucy, "it is a great deal 
 too deep for your turtle." 
 
 u In some places," said Miss Anne ; " but to 
 sail a boat, you must have a long extent of deep 
 water. I should think, however, that you might 
 have a better boat than 3011 can make of chairs 
 and crickets." 
 
lucy's scholar. 147 
 
 " How could we make it?" said Lucy. 
 
 "Why, Royal might find a long box, out 
 behind the barn ; or two common boxes, and 
 put them together, end to end, out in the yard. 
 You might put two boards across for seats, and 
 have poles for paddles." 
 
 " But it would not sail any," said Royal. 
 
 ' ' If you want it to sail, you must put some 
 rollers under it, and then you can push it along 
 a little." 
 
 Royal said that that was an excellent plan, 
 and that he meant to go and make such a boat 
 the very next day. He said he did not believe 
 but that he could put a mast in, and hoist up a 
 sail ;' or at least a flag or a streamer. 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " we will." 
 
 " I mean to go now and see if there is a box," 
 said Royal ; " it is just light enough." 
 
 So Ro3 r al went out of the room. 
 
 " Miss Anne," said Lucy, " how much does a 
 real boat cost ? " 
 
 " I don't know, exactly, how much," said Miss 
 Anne. 
 
 " I don't suppose I should have money 
 enough to buj- a boat, even if we had a deep 
 brook to sail it in," adcled Lucy. 
 
148 
 
 u I don't know," said Miss Ad ne ; " how 
 much money have you got ? " 
 
 " I have not got but a little ; it is a dollar, or 
 else a half a dollar ; or a sixpence ; I don't know 
 exactly. Royal has got more than I." 
 
 Miss Anne merely said, ''Has he?" and then 
 the conversation dropper 7 She had just taken 
 her seat at her work table, and begat* to be busy. 
 
 " I wish 1 knew of some way that I could earn 
 money, " said Lucy. " Do you know of any 
 way, Miss Anne ? " 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked Miss Anne. 
 
 " Don't you know of some way that I could 
 earn money ? " 
 
 " Why, I don't know ; earning money is 
 rather hard work, as I've heard people say. I 
 believe young ladies generally earn money by 
 teaching." 
 
 " Well." said Lucy, " if I could only get any 
 scholars." 
 
 " Why, you must be your own scholar ; teach 
 yourself to read. Come, I think that will be an 
 excellent plan." 
 
 u Can I earn any money so ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, I should think so. It would take you 
 three months, at a school, to learn yoi r letteis s 
 
LUCY f S SCHOLAR. 149 
 
 and three months is twelve weeks. Now, I sup 
 pose that your father would have to pay ahour 
 sixpence a week for you to go to school, ant 
 that would make twelve sixpences ; and I pre- 
 sume he would be willing to give you as much 
 as eight of the sixpences, if you would learn to 
 lead yourself." 
 
 " Why not all the twelve ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " Because you would not do quite all yourself. 
 Somebody would have to answer your questions, 
 and show you what the letters were, at first ; so 
 that you could not do it all yourself. 1 should 
 think that perhaps you might earn eight out of 
 the twelve sixpences. That would be one six- 
 pence for every three letters." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " I mean to try." 
 
 " If you think you would like to try," said 
 Miss Anne, " I'll form a plan for you, so that you 
 can begin to-morrow." 
 
 Lucy said she should like to tiy, and accord- 
 ingly Miss Anne reflected upon the subject that 
 evening, endeavoring to contrive some plan by 
 which Lucy might sit down by herself and study 
 her letters, half an hour every day, until she had 
 learned them all. She thought of a plan which 
 she hoped might answer pretty well ; and the lext 
 13* 
 
150 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 morning she made preparations for carrying l 
 into execution. 
 
 First she got Lucy's little tab-It, and set it .new 
 one of the windows in her room ; siie also pui 
 her little chair before it. Then she got a large 
 flat pin-cushion, and put upon the table. 
 
 " Why, Miss Anne ! " said Lucy , who stood 
 by looking at all these preparations, " what is the 
 pin-cushion for ? I never heard of studying with 
 a pin-cushion." 
 
 " You'll see," said Miss Anne. "lam going 
 to have you learn to read on the pin-cushion 
 method" 
 
 Then Miss Anne opened an ebony box, which 
 she had upon her table, and took out a very 
 large pin, and also a stick of red sealing-wax. 
 She carried these into the kitchen, Lucy follow- 
 ing her; then she lighted a lamp, and melted 
 some of the sealing-wax, and stuck it upon the 
 head of the pin, turning it round and round, and 
 then warming it, and pressing it with her fingers, 
 until at last she had made a little ball of sealing- 
 wax, about as big as a pea, which covered and 
 concealed the original head of the pin. 
 
 " There," said Miss Anne, " that is your 
 pointer" 
 
lucy's scholar 15 1 
 
 " Let me take it, Miss Anne," said Lucy. " I 
 (vant to take it." 
 
 Miss Anne handed the pointer to Lucy, ind 
 she looked at it carefully, as she walked slowly 
 along back into Miss Anne's room. When she got 
 there, Miss Anne took it, and stuck it into the 
 pin-cushion, and requested Lucy not to touch it. 
 
 Then she went and found some of the scattered 
 leaves of an old picture-book, which had once 
 been Royal's, but was now nearly worn out and 
 almost destroyed. She took one of these leaves, 
 and spread it out upon the pin-cushion. Then 
 she seated Lucy before it, and put the pointer in 
 her hands. 
 
 " Now, Lucy," said she, " what letter do you 
 know?" 
 
 " I know o the best," said Lucy. 
 
 Then Miss Anne pointed to the upper line, 
 and in the third word there was an o. 
 
 " There," said she — " prick it with your 
 pointer." 
 
 Lucy pricked through the o with great force, 
 30 as to sink the pin for half its length into the 
 pin -cushion. 
 
 " That will do," said Miss Anne. " Now 
 look along until you find another o." 
 
 Lucy found one about the middle of the line 
 
152 LUCY 5 CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 " Now," said Miss Anne, " prick him too, — 
 only do it gently, so as just to put the point in a 
 little way ; and when you are doing it, say, o." 
 
 Lucy did so. She pres.jed the point of the 
 pin through the letter, and at the instant that 
 it went through, she said, o. 
 
 " Now," said Miss Anne, " the plan is for 
 you to go on in that way. Look all through 
 that line, and prick every o you can find. Then 
 take the next line, and the next, and so on 
 regularly through the whole, and prick every o 
 After you have done, put the pointer into the 
 pin-cushion, and the pin-cushion into your drawer. 
 Then set your chair back, and bring the paper 
 to me." 
 
 Lucy was very ready to go on with this work. 
 In fact, while Miss Anne was speaking, she had 
 found another o, and was just going to prick ; but 
 Miss Anne stopped her, and told her that it was 
 not rulable to begin to obey her orders until she 
 had finished giving them. 
 
 At last, Miss Anne went out of the room, and 
 left Lucy at her work. Lucy pricked away, 
 very industriously, for nearly half an hour. She 
 had then got almost to the bottom of the page. 
 There she found a capital o, thus, O, at the be- 
 ginning of a senteme; and she did rot know 
 
LUCY'S SCHOLAR. J 63 
 
 whether she ought to prick such a one as that 
 or not. While she was considering, she heard 
 Royal's voice in the entry way, calling her. 
 
 Lucy answerea, m a loud voice, 
 
 u Here I am, Royal, — here, in Miss Anne's 
 room." 
 
 Royal advanced to the door of Miss Anne's 
 room, and looked in. He had his cap on, and 
 seemed to be in haste. 
 
 " Come, Lucy," said he, " let's go and make 
 our boat." 
 
 " Well," said Lucy, " just wait till I have 
 pricked two more lines." 
 
 " Pricked," said Royal, — " what do you mean 
 by pricking ? " 
 
 Royal came up to the little table where Lucy 
 was at work, and looked over her shoulder, while 
 she explained to him what she was doing. 
 
 " I am going to find every o there is on 
 this page, and prick them all. I have pricked 
 down to here already, and now I have got only 
 two lines more to prick, and then I shall come 
 out." 
 
 " O, come out now," said Royal, " and let 
 die pricking go." 
 
 " No," said Lucy, " I must wait and finish 
 iny work." 
 
154 lucy's conversations. 
 
 " That isn't work,'* said Royal ; " it is notim? 
 nut play. It does not do any good." 
 
 " Yes it does," said Lucy ; "I am doing it to 
 earn money." 
 
 " To earn money ! " repeated Royal ; and he 
 began to laugh aloud at the idea of earning 
 money in any such way as that. 
 
 Lucy explained to Royal that this was a 
 way which Miss Anne had contrived for her to 
 learn her letters herself, without troubling other 
 people, and that she had told her that she should 
 have sixpence for every three letters. 
 
 Royal then perceived that the plan was at 
 least worthy of being treated with more respect 
 than he had at first supposed ; — but then h* 
 told Lucy that, in his opinion, she was beginning 
 wrong. 
 
 " You ought to begin with some letter that 
 you don't know, Lucy," said he ; " you know o 
 now, as well as T know my own thumb ; and 
 of course it's of no use to prick it." 
 
 Lucy did not know what to reply to this rea- 
 soning, — only that Miss Anne had told her to 
 prick o, and Miss Anne knew best. . 
 
 " At any rate," said Royal, " ) ou can finish 
 t another time ; so come out with me now, 
 and help me get out the boxes for our boat.' 
 
LUU1 b SCHOLAR. 155 
 
 Lucy concluded that she would go out a few 
 minutes with Royal, and then come back again, 
 and finish her work. They accordingly weni 
 out together. 
 
 They found one long box, which Royal said 
 would do very well indeed for a boat. The box 
 was made to pack bedsteads in, and of course 
 it was more than six feet long ; but it was nar- 
 row, like a boat, and Royal said it was just the 
 thing. 
 
 The children got this down upon a place 
 where the ground was smooth and hard ; and 
 Lucy got so much interested in playing boat, 
 that she entirely forgot her pricking for two 
 hours ; and then the first bell rang, to call them 
 in to dinner. 
 
 The first bell always rang ten minutes before 
 ihe second bell. This was to give Royal and 
 Lucy time to come in and get ready. Lucy 
 tnought that she should just have time to finish 
 die two lines, and she ran in to Miss Anne's 
 room to sit right down to her work. To her 
 surprise, however, as soon as she got in, she saw 
 that her chair was not before the little table, bui 
 uad been set back ; and the pin-cushion, pointer, 
 md paper, had all entirely disappeared. 
 
156 LUCY ? S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 Lucy went into the parlor, and found Miss 
 iVnne placing the chairs around the dinner table, 
 
 " Miss Anne," said she, in a tone of complaint, 
 " somebody has taken away all my things." 
 
 " That is some of my mischief, I suppose," 
 *aid Miss Anne. 
 
 " Did you take them away ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " I put them away," replied Miss Anne. " 1 
 went into my room, about an hour after I left 
 you there, and found that you had gone away 
 to play, and had left your work all out upon the 
 table ; and so I had to put it away." 
 
 " Why, I was coming right back again," said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " And did you come right back ? " 
 
 " Why, no," said Lucy. " Royal wanted me 
 to stay with him so much ! " 
 
 " I thought you'd find it rather hard to earn 
 money. You ought to have waited until you 
 had finished your work, and then you could have 
 gone out to play. — But I don't mean that you 
 did wrong. You had a right, if you chose, to 
 give up the plan of earning money, and have 
 your play instead." 
 
 " Why, Miss Anne, I almost finished the. work. 
 I pricked all but two lines." 
 
157 
 
 ? Yes, but then you left the work of putting 
 the things away to me : and that gave me abou 
 as much trouble as all your pricking did good 
 So you did not cam any thing.'' 
 
 " Well/ 5 said Lucy, " I will try this afternoon 
 while Royal is at his studies ; and then he won't 
 want me to go out and play." 
 
 She took s for her letter that afternoon, and 
 she pricked all that she could find on the page. 
 Then she put her work carefully away, ah' 
 except the page itself, which she brought to Miss 
 Anne, so that she might examine it. Miss Anne 
 found that she had done it very well. She had 
 pricked almost every one. Miss Anne looked it 
 over very carefully, and could only find two or 
 three which Lucy had overlooked. 
 
 After this, Lucy persevered for several weeks 
 in pricking letters. She took a new letter every 
 day, and she generally spent about half an hour 
 at each lesson. She learned to be very still whilf 
 she was thus engaged, saying nothing except to 
 pronounce aloud the name of the letter when she 
 pricked it, which Miss Anne said was a very im- 
 portant part of the exercise. 
 
 In this way, in process of time, she learned 
 all the letters of the alphabet ; and her father 
 paid her the eight sixpences. With one of these 
 
158 LUCY'S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 sixpences she bought a fine black lead pencil, 
 to draw with, and a piece of India rubber, to rub 
 out her marks when they were made wrong. 
 
 Miss Anne also taught her how to make a 
 purse to keep the rest of her money in ; and when 
 the purse was done, Lucy put the money into 
 it, and got Miss Anne to let her keep it in one 
 of her drawers. She was afraid it would not be 
 quite safe in her treasury. 
 
SKETCHING. 169 
 
 CONVERSATION XIIi. 
 
 SKETCHING. 
 
 Lucy asked Miss Anne if she would let hei 
 go with her the next time that she went out to 
 make sketches, and let her try to see if she could 
 not make sketches too, with her new pencil. 
 Miss Anne had two or three pencils, which she 
 kept in a little morocco case, and some small 
 sheets of drawing paper in a portfolio. Some- 
 times, when she went out to walk, she used to 
 take these drawing implements and materials 
 with her, and sit down upon a bank, or upon 
 a rock, and draw, while Lucy was playing 
 around. 
 
 But now, as Lucy herself had a pencil, she 
 wanted to carry it out, so that she could make 
 sketches too. 
 
 Miss Anne said that she should like this plan 
 very much ; and accordingly, one pleasant sum- 
 mer afternoon, they set off. Miss Anne tied 
 Lucy's pencil and India rubber together, by a 
 strong silk thread, so that the India rubber mighi 
 
iGO lucy's conversations. 
 
 not be so easily lost. The other necessary mate- 
 rials — namely, some paper, some pencils for Miss 
 Anne, and two thin books with stiff covers, to 
 lay their paper upon, while drawing — were all 
 properly provided, and put in a bag, which Miss 
 Anne had made, and which she always used for 
 this purpose. 
 
 Lucy observed, also, that Miss Anne put some- 
 thing else in her bag. Lucy thought, from its 
 appearance, that it was a square block ; but it 
 was folded up in a paper, and so she could not 
 see. She asked Miss Anne what it was, and 
 Miss Anne told her it was a secret. 
 
 They walked along without any particular 
 adventure until they came to a bridge across a 
 scream. It was the same stream where they had 
 sat upon the rocks and seen George and the 
 other boys fishing ; but this was a different part 
 of the stream, and the water was deep and still. 
 Lucy and Miss Anne stopped upon the middle 
 of the bridge, and looked over the railing down 
 to the dark water far below. 
 
 " O, what aeep water ! " said Lucy. 
 
 " How could we get over this river if it were 
 not for this bridge ? " 
 
 " Not very conveniently/' said Miss Anne, 
 
 " We could not get over at all," said Lucy. 
 
SKETCHING. 161 
 
 " Perhaps we might," said Miss Anne ; •' there 
 are several ways of getting over a river besides 
 going over upon a bridge." 
 
 " What ways ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " One is by a ferry." 
 
 " What is a ferry ? " said Lucy. 
 
 "It is a large boat which is always ready to 
 carry persons across. The ferry-man generally 
 lives in a house veiy near the bank of the river : 
 and if any body wants to go across the river, they 
 call at his house for him, and he takes them across 
 in his boat. Then they pay him some money." 
 
 " But suppose they are on the other side," 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " Then," said Miss Anne, " they have to call or 
 olow a trumpet. Sometimes they have a trumpet 
 for people to blow when they want the ferry-man 
 to come for them. But sometimes, where there 
 are a great many travellers on the road that leads 
 to the feny, the boats are coming and going all the 
 time ; and then people don't have to call or to 
 blow any trumpet." 
 
 " How much money do they have to pay,'' 
 said Lucy, " for carrying them across ? " 
 
 " That depends upon circumstances," said Miss 
 Anne. " If a man goes alone, he does not have 
 to pay so much as he does if he is in a chaise ; 
 
162 lucy's conversations. 
 
 and if he has a carriage and two horses, he has tc 
 pay more still." 
 
 "Why, Miss Anne," said Lucy, "can they 
 carry over a carriage and two horses in a boat ? ' 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " a stage-coach am' 
 six horses, if necessary. They have large, flat- 
 bottomed boats for the carriages and carts, and 
 small, narrow boats for men, when they want to 
 go alone." 
 
 While this conversation had been going on, 
 Miss Anne and Lucy had walked along to some 
 distance beyond the bridge. They took a road 
 which led to an old, deserted farm-house, and 
 some other buildings around it, all in a state of 
 ruin and decay. The man who owned it had 
 built himself a new house, when he found that 
 this was getting too old to be comfortable to live 
 in. The new house was upon another part of b* 
 farm, and it was another road which led to it ; so 
 that these old buildings had been left in a very 
 secluded and solitary position. Miss Anne liked 
 very much to come to this place, when she came 
 out to make sketches, for she said that in all 
 the views of the buildings, on every side, there 
 were a great many beautiful drawing lessons. 
 
 The roof of the house in one place had turn* 
 bled in and the shed had blown down altogether 
 
SKETCHING. 163 
 
 There was one barn, however, that was pretty 
 good ; and, in fact, the farmer used it to store his 
 surplus hay in it. 
 
 Lucy sat down, with Miss Anne, under the 
 shade of some trees, at a little distance from the 
 buildings, and they began to take out their draw 
 ing materials. 
 
 " Now, Miss Anne," said Lucy, " what shall I 
 draw?" 
 
 " I think that the well will be the best lesson 
 for you." 
 
 There was an old well at a little distance from 
 the house, upon the green, with a group of vener- 
 able old lilac bushes near it. The water had 
 been raised by a well-sweep, but the sweep itself 
 had long since gone to decay, though the tall post 
 with a fork at the top, which had supported the 
 sweep, was still standing. 
 
 So Miss Anne recommended that Luc) should 
 attempt to draw the well. 
 
 "But, Miss Anne," said Lucy, "1 want to 
 draw the same thing that you do." 
 
 " Very well," said Miss Anne ; " then we will 
 both draw the well." 
 
 " So we will," raid Lucy ; " but, Miss Anne, 
 jrou must tell me how. I don't know how to 
 draw, myself." 
 
161 
 
 LUCY S CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 Miss Anne gave Lucy some instructions, a' % 
 cording to her request. She told her that sh« 
 must mind the shape of the things more than any- 
 thing else. " All depends upon the proportions," 
 said Miss Anne. 
 
 " What is proportion ? " said Lucy. " Royal 
 told me something about it, but I could not un- 
 derstand him very well." 
 
 " Suppose you look over me a few minutes, and 
 *3e how I do it," said Miss Anne. 
 
 Lucy liked this proposal very much ; and she 
 stood very still, for some time, while Miss Anne, 
 with her paper upon her book, and her book upon 
 her knee, began to make her drawing, talking 
 all the time as follows : — 
 
 " First, there is the post ; I will draw that first. 
 I must make it look just as long upon the paper 
 as it does in reality. And do you think it stands 
 quite upright ? " 
 
 " No," said Lucy, " it leans." 
 
 " Which way does it lean ? " asked Miss Anne. 
 
 " It leans towards the well, I think," said 
 trticy. 
 
 " So it does ; and I must draw a line for ono 
 side of the post, and make this line lean over 
 towards the place where my well is going to be, 
 just as much as the post really leans." 
 
SKETCHING. 165 
 
 Miss Anne then drew the line, and asked Lucy 
 to look at it carefully, and see whether it leaned 
 any more, or any less, than the real post did. 
 
 Lucy looked at it very carefully, but she could 
 not see that there was any difference. 
 
 " Now," continued Miss Anne, " I must begin 
 to draw the well ; and I must have it at just the 
 right distance from the post." 
 
 Then Miss Anne put down her pencil very 
 near to the post, and asked Lucy if she thought 
 that that was about right. 
 
 " O no," said Lucy, " that is a great deal too 
 near." 
 
 Miss Anne then moved the point of her pencil 
 off almost to the end of the paper. 
 
 " Would that be right ? " said Miss Ajine. 
 
 •' O no ; that is too far." 
 
 " But it is not so far as it is in reality, on the 
 ground, from the post to the well." 
 
 " No," said Lucy, " but you are not going to 
 have the picture so large as the real well." 
 
 " That is it, exactly," said Miss Anne. " The 
 picture itself is all going to be smaller than the re- 
 ality ; and the drawing of the well must be just as 
 much smaller than the real well, as the drawing 
 of the post is than the real post. Then it is all 
 in proportion " 
 
166 lucy's conversations. 
 
 " Now," said Miss Anne, w I will move mj 
 pencil up nearer, and you may tell me when it is 
 too far off, and when it is too near, for the propel 
 place for me to draw the side of the well. Is that 
 right ? " she added, after placing the point of the 
 pencil in a new position. 
 
 " That is too near," said Lucy. 
 
 " And that ? " said Miss Anne. 
 
 " That is about right," said Lucy. 
 
 " Look again, carefully." 
 
 " Hark ! what's that ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " It sounds like thunder," said Miss Anne ; 
 ;< but I rather think it is only a wagon going over 
 the bridge." 
 
 A few minutes afterwards, however, the sound 
 wab repeated, louder and more distinct than 
 before, and Miss Anne said it was thunder, and 
 that they must go home, or that they should get 
 caught in a shower. They looked around, and 
 saw that there were some large, dark-looking 
 clouds rising in the west ; and Miss Anne said 
 that they must put away their things, and go home 
 as fast as they could. 
 
 "But, Miss Anne," said Lucy, "it is a gi oat 
 way home. I am afraid it will rain on us before 
 we get there." 
 
 " Why, if we can get across the bridge," said 
 
SKETCHING. 167 
 
 Miss Ar.ne, "we can go into some of the 
 houses." 
 
 " Are there no houses before we come to thp 
 bridge ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " No," said Miss Anne ; " but I think we shall 
 have time to go farther than that." 
 
 By this time they had put up their drawing ma- 
 terials, and began to walk along towards the main 
 road. Miss Anne said that she presumed that tliey 
 should have ample time to get home ; for showers 
 seldom came up so very suddenly as to prevent 
 their getting home from a walk. 
 
 But when they had gone about half way to the 
 bridge, Miss Anne began to be afraid that thev 
 should not get home. There was a large, black 
 cloud spreading along the western sky, and the 
 low and distant peals of thunder came oftener, and 
 grew gradually louder and louder. Miss Anne 
 walked very fast, leading Lucy, who ran along 
 by her side. 
 
 Just as they came to the bridge, the great drops 
 of rain began to fall. 
 
 " There ! " said Lucy, — " it's beginning." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " and I have a great 
 mind to go under the bridge." 
 
 Miss Anne had just time to say " under the 
 bridge," when there came another heavy clap of 
 
L68 lucy's conversations. 
 
 thunder, which sounded louder and nearer than 
 any which they had heard before. This decided 
 Miss Anne at once. She turned off from the en- 
 trance to the bridge, and began to walk down the 
 steep bank, leading Lucy. When they had de- 
 scended to the margin of the stream, they found a 
 narrow strip of sand between the water and the 
 foundation of the bridge. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Anne, " here is plenty of 
 room for us to stand." 
 
 They found a good place to stand, with the 
 water of the stream before them, and the great 
 wall, which the bridge rested upon, behind them 
 There were also some large, smooth stones lying 
 there, which they could sit down upon. A very 
 few minutes after they had fixed themselves in 
 this place of shelter, the rain began to come 
 down in torrents. The thunder rolled and re- 
 verberated from one part of the heavens to an- 
 other, and once or twice Lucy saw a faint flash 
 of lightning. 
 
 Lucy was very much amused at the curious ef- 
 fect produced by the drops of rain falling upon 
 the water. They covered the water all over with 
 little bubbles. She kept calling upon Miss Anne 
 to see , but Miss Anne looked anxious and afraid 
 By and by, the rain began to come down through 
 
SKETCHING. 1 60 
 
 the bridge, and they had to move a little to keep 
 from getting wet. But they succeeded in getting 
 a dry place, and keeping pretty comfortable. 
 
 "But what shall we do," said Lucy, <c if it 
 rains all night ? We can't stay here all night." 
 
 " Thunder showers, don't last long," said Miss 
 Anne. " I presume it will be pleasant by and by, 
 only we shall get our feet wet going home ; for the 
 roads will be very wet, and full of pools of water 
 
 Just then they heard the noise of wheels in the 
 road, as if a chaise or carriage of some sort were 
 coming along towards them. The horse travelled 
 very fast, and soon came upon the bridge, and 
 went along over it, passing directly above thei* 
 heads with great speed, and with a noise which 
 sounded louder to them than any clap of thunder 
 which they had heard. Lucy was sure that they 
 would break through, and come down upon their 
 heads ; and even Miss Anne was a little fright- 
 ened. They little knew who it was in the chaise 
 It was Royal going to find them, to bring them 
 home. He thought it probable that they had 
 gone into the old, ruined buildings, to be sheltered 
 from the rain, and that he should find them there. 
 
 After looking there for them in vain, he came 
 back, and he happened to come to the bridge just 
 15 
 
I TO 
 
 as Miss Anne and Lucy were coming out from 
 under it. They were very glad to see him. The 
 shower was over. The sun had come out; the 
 grass and trees were glittering with the reflection 
 of the bright light from the drops of rain ; and 
 there were two great rainbows in the east, one 
 bright, and the other rather faint. Royal said that 
 he would have the faint rainbow, and Lucy might 
 have the bright one for hers. Lucy's rainbow 
 lasted until some time after they got home. 
 
 CONVERSATION XIV 
 DANGER. 
 
 Lucy often had singular adventures with Royal 
 and her father ; but one, which interested her as 
 much as any, was an adventure she once met 
 with in crossing a river. The circumstances were 
 these : — 
 
 They were on a journey ; Lucy and Royal 
 were travelling with their father and mother. 
 
 One evening, after they had reached the end 
 of the journey for the day, the party stopped in a 
 village, built upon an eminence, which overlooked 
 a broad and very fertile-looking valley. It con- 
 sisted of extensive intervals, level and green, and 
 
DANGER. \f{ 
 
 spotted with elms, and with a river winding 
 through them, until its course was lost among the 
 trees, a few miles below. After tea, Royal want- 
 ed to go down, across the intervals, to the bank 
 of the river, to see the water. 
 
 " O yes," said Lucy, " and let me go too, 
 father." 
 
 " O no," said Royal, " you must not go." 
 
 " Why not ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Because," said Royal, " we may find a boat 
 there, and want to take a sail in it; and you 
 couldn't go." 
 
 " Why not ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Because," said Royal, " you wouldn't dare 
 to go." 
 
 " Yes I should," said Lucy. 
 
 " No," said Royal, " you don't dare to sleep in 
 a room alone at night, in a hotel." 
 
 " But I think she will not be afraid to go in 
 the boat," said her father. " At any rate, we will 
 let her go with us." 
 
 Lucy then went to get her bonnet ; and when 
 they were all ready, she and Royal went out 
 together ; their father followed immediately after 
 wards. Their mother, being fatigued, preferred 
 to remain at home. 
 
 From the principal street of the village, they 
 passed out, through a pair of bars, into a cart road, 
 which led through the mowing field's down to- 
 wards the intervals. 
 
 They walked on together, until they cam 
 down to the intervals, which were level fields o/ 
 
172 
 
 grass and flowers, very beautiful, and extending 
 on each side of them very far. The road gradu- 
 ally grew narrower, until at length it became a 
 mere path, which finally conducted them to 
 the bank of the river. Royal and Lucy stood 
 upon the bank, and looked down into the water. 
 
 The bank was quite high and steep, formed of 
 earth, which seemed to be, from time to time, 
 caving into the water. It was green to the very 
 brink, and some large masses of turf lay down 
 below at the water's edge, and partly in the wa- 
 ter, where they had apparently fallen from above. 
 The shore on the opposite side of the river was, 
 however, very different. It was a low, sandy 
 beach, with the water rippling along the pebbles, 
 which lay upon the margin of it. 
 
 " O father," said Royal, " I wish we could get 
 over to that beach." 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, " and then we could get 
 down and throw stones into the water." 
 
 " If we had a boat," said Royal, " we could 
 get across." 
 
 " O no," said their father, " this river is too 
 shallow for a boat." 
 
 " How do you know, father ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Why, I can see the bottom all the way ; and 
 then 1 know by the rapidity of the current, that 
 it must be quite shallow." 
 
 Just then they observed some men coming 
 down towards them, on the bank of the river. 
 Royal's father asked them, when they came up 
 to where he was standing, if there were anv 
 boats on the river. 
 
DANGER. 173 
 
 " Yes," said the men, " there is a small boat 
 just above here, which you can have if you want. 
 Only bring it safe back again." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you," said Lucy's 
 father ; "are there any oars ? " 
 
 " There are some paddles," replied one of the 
 men. " They're hid in the bushes, just opposite 
 the boat. There is a padlock on the bGat, and it 
 looks as if it was locked, but it is not. You can 
 take the padlock right off." 
 
 The men then went on their way down the 
 river, and Lucy and Royal ran along the bank 
 to see if they could find the boat. Their 
 father followed them more slowly. Presently, 
 however, they all came to the place where the 
 boat was lying. 
 
 It was a very small boat indeed. It was 
 drawn up partly upon the bank, which was here 
 not quite so steep as where the children had first 
 stood, but was yet considerably precipitous. The 
 boat was fastened, by a chain, to the root of a 
 large elm-tree, which was growing upon the bank, 
 the roots having been laid bare by the action of 
 the water. There was a padlock passing through 
 a link of the chain in such a way as to give the 
 boat the appearance of being fastened ; bu f Lu- 
 cy's father found that the padlock would open 
 easily, without any unlocking, and so they soon 
 got the boat at liberty. 
 
 Royal then went to look around among the 
 grass and bushes near, to see if he could find the 
 paddles. Presently he cal ed out, " Here th«y 
 15* 
 
174 
 
 are ! " and in a few minutes he brought the m tc 
 his father. 
 
 " Now, Lucy," said her father, do you want to 
 get in and sail across the river ? " 
 
 " Isn't there any danger ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said her father, " I think there is con- 
 siderable danger." 
 
 " What ! that we shall get drowned ? " ex- 
 claimed Lucy. 
 
 " No," replied her father ; " only that we shall 
 get upset." 
 
 " Well, father," said Lucy, " if we get upset, 
 we shall certainly be drowned." 
 
 " O no," replied her father ; " the water isn't 
 deep enough to drown us anywhere, if we stand 
 upright upon the bottom. And then, besides, 
 there is no danger that we shall be upset, unless 
 where it is very shallow indeed. The current 
 may sweep us away down the stream, so that we 
 shall lose command of the boat, and then, if we 
 strike a large stone, or a sunken log, the boat 
 might fill or go over ; but, then, in the places 
 where the current is so rapid, the water is no- 
 where more than knee deep. Now you may gc 
 with us or not, Just as you please." 
 
 " Royal, what would you do? " said Lucy 
 
 " O, I'd go," said Royal, " by all means." 
 
 " Would you, father ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " Yes," said her father, " unless you are very 
 much afraid." 
 
 Lucy said she was a little afraid, but not much , 
 and sne cautiously stepped into the boat. Royal 
 
DANGER. 175 
 
 got in after her, and when the two children had 
 taken their seats, their father followed them, and 
 took his place in the stern, with one of the pad- 
 dles. Royal had the other. The stern is the 
 hinder part of a boat. The forward part is called 
 the bows. There was a chain attached to the 
 bows of the boat, by which it had been fastened 
 to the shore. 
 
 (: Now, Royal," said his father, when they were 
 all seated, you must remember that, if you go with 
 us, you must obey my orders exactly." 
 
 " Yes, father, I will," said Royal. 
 
 " And suppose," said his father, " that I ordti 
 you to jump into the river." 
 
 " Then I'll jump right in," said Royal. 
 
 " Well," said his father, " we shall see." 
 
 Royal was seated forward, at the bows of the 
 boat. The boat was flat-bottomed, and square 
 at both ends, so that there was very little differ- 
 ence between the bows and the stern, and there 
 was a place to sit at each. Royal put his paddle 
 into the water, and began to paddle a little ; but 
 they made no progress, until his father was ready 
 to work his paddle at the stern of the boat ; and 
 then it began slowly to glide up the river, keep 
 ing, however, all the time near the bank from 
 which they had set out. The water appeared 
 to be much deeper on this side than on the other, 
 and the current was not so rapid. Lucy, however, 
 by looking over the side of the boat, could plainly 
 see the gravel- stones upon the bottom. 
 
 They went along ven smoothly and prosper 
 
'76 lucy's conversations. 
 
 ously, but yet very slowly, for some time ; an J at 
 length Royal asked his father to put out more 
 into the stream. So his father turned the head 
 of the boat out, and in a very few minutes thej 
 found themselves in the middle of the river 
 Now, however, instead of moving up, they found, 
 by looking upon the stones at the bottom, that 
 they were drifting ,o!own. Royal observed, too, 
 that the water had become much more shallow, 
 and the current was stronger. He looked at his 
 father, and found that he was exerting himself, 
 with all his strength, to force the boat against the 
 current, and keep it from being carried away. 
 
 But the water was so shallow, that the end of 
 his paddle rubbed upon the bottom, and pre- 
 vented his keeping the boat under command. 
 Then he thought that he would use his paddle 
 for a setting-pole, instead of a paddle ; that is, 
 that he would plant the lower end of it firmly into 
 the gravel at the bottom, and then push against 
 it, and so force the boat to go up the stream. 
 
 In attempting to do this, however, he lost the 
 command of his boat still more. The current, 
 setting strong against the bows, swept that end of 
 the boat round, so as to bring her broadside to the 
 stream ; and then she was entirely at the mere) of 
 the water, which here seemed to pour over tlie 
 stones in a torrent. The boat went flying along 
 over the rippling waves, within a very few inches 
 of the pebble-stones below. Royal began to be 
 seriously afraid. 
 
 " Can't you stop K«r father ? " said he. 
 
DANGER. 177 
 
 His father did not answer, he was so intent 
 jpon the effort which he was making. He had 
 thought of one more plan. He planted the fool 
 of his paddle into the gravel on the bottom, oppo- 
 site the middle of the boat, and then, letting the 
 middle of the boat press against it, he endeavored 
 to hold it by main force ; but the force of the 
 water was so great, that the boat was crowded 
 over until it just began to let in water ; so that 
 he was obliged to release his hold, and the boat 
 d"ifted away again. He then took his seat once 
 more in the stern of the boat. 
 
 " Now, Royal," said he, " stand up and tak( 
 hold of the painter." 
 
 " What is that ? " said Royal. 
 
 "The chain," replied his father — "the chain 
 fastened to the bows." 
 
 Royal did so. 
 
 " Now," said his father, " stand up steadily 
 upon the bows, and then step down carefully into 
 the water." 
 
 Royal obeyed his father's command with much 
 firmness. The water was about up to his knees. 
 He sta£jrered a little at first, as he carried with 
 him the motion of the boat; but he soon re- 
 gained a firm footing. 
 
 " Now stand still," said his father, " and hold 
 on, 
 
 Royal braced himself, by his position in the 
 water, against the action of the boat, which pulled 
 hard upon the painter, and this immediately brought 
 the boat round, into a position parallel with the 
 
178 lucy's conversations. 
 
 direction of the current. By holding on firmly 
 a moment longer, he stopped the boat, and the 
 current swept swiftly by it, dashing the rippling 
 waves almost over the bows. Lucy sat all this 
 time very quietly on the middle seat, without 
 saying a word. 
 
 " Now, Royal," said his father, "see if you can 
 draw us in towards the shore." 
 
 Royal found, that although it had been so dif 
 ficult for his father to push the boat by the head, 
 yet that he himself could draw it pretty easily 
 with the chain. So he walked along through the 
 water towards the shore, drawing the boat after 
 him. In a few minutes, he had the bows safely 
 drawn up upon the sand. 
 
 His father then stepped out upon the beach, 
 telling Lucy to sit still. He took his stand back 
 a little, where the gravel was dry, while Royal 
 remained just in the edge of the water. 
 
 " Now, Royal," said his father, " you may see if 
 you can draw Lucy up the river. Keep just far 
 enough from the shore to make the water half 
 knee deep." 
 
 Royal was much pleased with this arrange- 
 ment ; and as for Lucy, she was delighted. She 
 sat upon the middle seat, balancing herself ex- 
 actly, so as not to upset the boat ; while Roya* 
 waded along, drawing her through the water, 
 which curled and rippled on each side. 
 
 "O Lucy," said Royal, stopping to look 
 round, " we can play this is a canal-boat, and 
 that I am the horse." 
 
DANGER. 179 
 
 " So we can," said Lucy ; and she began im- 
 mediately to chirup to him, to make him go 
 faster. 
 
 Royal dragged the boat along; while his father 
 walked upon the shore. Presently they came 
 to a place where the water began to be deeper, 
 and the bottom more sandy ; and Koyal perceived 
 that the current was not nearly as rapid. He 
 looked up to see how the water appeared before 
 him, and he found that it was smooth and glassy, 
 instead of being rippled and rough, as it had been 
 below. His father noticed this difference in the 
 appearance of the water too ; and he told Royal 
 that it was a sign that there was no current 
 there. So he directed Royal to come in to the 
 shore, and they would all get in again. 
 
 Royal accordingly drew the boat up to the 
 shore, and they all got in. Now they found 
 that they could paddle the boat very easily. It 
 glided over the smooth water with a very gentle 
 and pleasant motion. Lucy looked over the side, 
 and watched the change in the sandy bottom far 
 below. Sometimes she saw a great log lying 
 across the bed of the stream, then a rock, half 
 imbedded in the sand, and next a school of little 
 fishes. The land, too, looked beautiful on each 
 side, as they passed along. There were willows 
 here lining the bank, and now and then a great 
 elm, with branches drooping over almost into the 
 water. 
 
 After sailing about in this smooth water a little 
 while, their father said that it was time for therr 
 
180 LUCYS CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 lo go home ; and so he brought the boat rounc 
 turning her head down the stream. After going 
 down in that direction or a little while, Royal 
 said, 
 
 " Why, father, you are going right upon the 
 ripples again." 
 
 " Yes," said his father, " we are going over 
 them." 
 
 " O father," said Lucy, " we shall upset." 
 
 " No," said her father, " there is no danger, 
 going down." 
 
 " Why not ? " said Royal. 
 
 " Because," said his father, " I shall keep her 
 head down, and then, if we strike a snag, it will 
 do no harm." 
 
 " What is a snag? " said Lucy. 
 
 " It is a log sunk in the water," replied her 
 father. 
 
 By this time they had begun to enter the 
 rippling water, and the boat shot swiftly along, 
 bounding o\er the little billows very merrily. 
 Lucy was at first a little afraid, but she soon 
 began to feel safe, and to enjoy the rapid motion. 
 They soon reached the place where they had 
 taken the boat, and, leaving it there, fastened 
 securely as they had found it, they all went back 
 across the intervals towards home. 
 
 THE END. 
 
r 
 
 VB 37065 
 
 k