^ ly 9 BY AIs^XE MAEIA SAEGEANT. Elm Villa. LONDON: GEOOMBEIDGE A^D SOXS PAThR^iOSTER P.OW. (Blm i3iu3. CHAPTEE I. A VISIT niOPOSED — A KIDE IN A EATLWAY CAEEIAGE — ANECDOTE OF PBINCES3 CHAFcLOTTE. ' What say you, Jessy my dear, to spending a few weel:s witli your Aunt Weldon ?' said Mrs. Cra-wford, as she entered tlie room where her little daughter was sitting learning her morning lesson. * Oh that will ho delightful, mamma,' cried the little girl, dropping her book and clapping her hands with joy. 'Your papa,'' the lady added, Mias just heard sometliing v/hich makes it necessary that he and I should go up to London as soon as possible, and we have been thinking of leav- ing you by the way under the care of your aunt and uncle.' This speech put to flight all Jessy's smiles : * What, am I to be there without you, mam- ma?' she asked. ' Oh I thought you meant to go on a long visit to aunt Weldon's yourself.' 'I cannot do that, my dear ; but you will be very happy with your aunt and cousins, I'm 6 ELM yiLLA. sure they will do every tHng they can to make you so/ * Yes, I should like to go very much, mam- ma ; but then not to see you and dear papa for such a long while' — 'It wont be such a very long while, my love — at least, I hope not ; for papa and I shall be as anxious to see our little Jessy as she will be to see us — don't you think we shall?' The Httle girl answered by tlirowing her arms fondly around her mother's neck. Mrs. Crawford was not displeased when Jessy raised her rosy face to kiss her, to find that her eyes were brim full of tears. Jessy tried to hide them, however, and did her best to laugh ; so she made an odd sort of a noise — something between a laugli and a sob. * How many weeks will it be ?' she asked. ' I cannot tell you, my love ; it will depend upon how soon the business is settled. I as- sure you w^e shall not stay longer than we are obhged. Then only think, Jessy, of the joy of meeting again — and how pleasant home will seem after we have been away from it for a time. Come, let us think of all the cheerful things we can — not about the parting.* Jessy now looked up and smiled. ' You know you have often wished that you had brothers and sisters to play with you and learn with you ; and now you will have — let me see — six cousins. Yes : there are G-eorge, and Charles, and Emma, and Sophy, and — Oh, I forget some of their names ; but it will be like going to a party every day. Wont that ELM VILLA. 7 be pleasant ? We must start to-morrow, in one of the railway carriages,' Mrs. Crawford continued, ' and that will be a treat for you, will it not? You have never been a long journey in your life. Then we shall reach Elm Yilla in the evening, and I and papa must go off very early the next morning for London.' ' Elm Yilla, mamma ? Is that the name of uncle Y^eldon's house ?' ' Yes, and a very pretty place it is. You will be delighted with the garden and the fish- pond, and the orchard, and all the beautiful walks around. Oh, you don't know how many pleasures you have to come.' But Jessy thought that nothing could make amends for the pain of parting wdth her dear papa and mamma : however, like a wise Uttle girl, she thought she would make the best of it, and try to be happy. Now I dare say, my young readers, you like Jessy Crawford very much. I wish you to like her. You think her a very affectionate little girl — and so she was. But I have only told you the best side of her character. She had faults ; and as I wish you to copy her virtues and avoid her bad qualities, it is my duty to tell you what they were. But this I shall do as we go on. It is right to speak of people's faults when it will answer any good purpose, but not otherwise. Now we will fancy Jessy in the railway car- riage, seated between papa and mamma, whirl- ing along at such a rate. As she looked out 8 ELir VILLA. at the window, she could scarcely belieye that the trees, and the hedges, and the houses were not gliding by. She was very much delighted at the sight; but when they came into the dark tunnels, she was almost frightened, till her father assured her there was no cause for fear. Then he amused her by telling how the tunnels were made, and how many miles they had travelled in an hour, and what places they passed through, and for what they were noted, and so on. At last Jessy asked her mamma to give her a description of her cousins. Mrs. Crawford said she must put on her considering cap — for, to own the truth, she did not remember much about them, as she had spent only a day or two there during the last six or seven years. ' One fact I well remember, however,' she remarked, 'and that is, that the eldest girl— Emma I think her name is — ^was one of the sweetest children I ever met with ; and I wished that my little Jessy might grow up just like her." ' Oh, she's a none such^ I suppose,' thought Jessy, bat she did not say so, for she well knew that if she had her mamma would have been displeased with her. Now I dare say my young readers will have found out, by this speech, that Jessy vras a little envious and jealous. I am sorry to say it was so. *I thought her so well behaved,' Mrs. Crawford added, ' and so kind and gentle to her brothers and sisters.' ' That was, perhaps, because you were pre- sent,' thought Jessy ; but '^^ took care not to think aloud. ELK VILLA. 9 * Wliat sort of a- girl is Sophy, mamma?' she enquired. ' Oh, she's a little noisy romp ; that's all I remember about her,' answered Mrs. Craw- ford, laughing. ' How old is she ?' * About as old as you are, I think.* * That's ten next June,' * Then you have arrived at the great age of nine years and one month. You ought to know a great deal.' ' I do know a great many things,' answ^ered Jessy, ' and I hope when I am as old as you and papa are I shall know as much as you do. You seem to know everything' 'ISTo, my love; neither your papa nor I know everything : there never was a person yet who knew everything. But there are some things which everybody ought to know, and other things which are very useful for some people to know, but w^hich w^ould be of no use to others ; for instance, it would be of no use for you to know how to make one of these carriages.' ']S'o mamma, to be sure not, because I should not make a carriage if I knew how.' 'Then if the men who made the carriage were to spend their time in learning how to knit, as you did last winter, that would be of no use to them.' Jessy laughed heartily at the idea. 'Well, then, you see, my love, that we ought to spend our time in learmng those things which will make us useful to each other. We are now enjoying the comfort and 10 ELM VILLA. convenience of a ride arising out of other peo- ple's knowledge ; and we ought not to despise those who are doing something for the gene- ral good, let their station be ever so humble, I have often told you this, Jessy, but I can scarcely tell you too often, for little folk are apt to beheve they are better than poor people, if their parents have more money ; TvhereaSj the poor man or w^oman w^ho can do something useful is really of more service to the world than they are.' * Yes mamma,' answered Jessy. * Our servant Betsy is very useful, because she cooks our dinners ; and Jane is useful be- cause she cleans the house ; and the gardener is useful, because he digs the ground, and plants the vegetables we eat, and takes care of them and of the flowers ; therefore, these useful people ought to be treated with respect and kindness.' * I read some years ago,' said Mr. Craw- ford, * how a little princess was taught a les- son of politeness to her inferiors in rank. You have heard of the Princess Charlotte, Jessy : she was the cousin of our queen, and she would have been queen, if she had lived till after the death of her father, George the Third. Well, she was a very sweet, amiable little girl ; but one morning she was so thoughtless as to let a lady stand a very long time whilst* she was talking to her. You know people do not sit down in the presence of any of the royal family, unless they are asked to do so. In the evening of the same day the queen called the princess to come and ELM TILLA. 11 read to her ; the young lady was going to take a seat as usual, when her mamma said, *No my love, I shall keep you standing as long as you kept that lady standing this morn- ing.' The little princess never forgot this les- eon: she was afterwards remarked for her kind and considerate conduct/ 'If you spend a few weeks at Elm Yilla, my dear Jessy,' said Mrs. Crawford, ' I should like you to observe the pretty beha- viour of your cousin Emma, and try to be as thoughtful.' ' Cousin Emma again,' thought Jessy, * mamma will never have done talking about cousin Emma, and I don't at all fancy I shall like her.' Still, all these thoughts were kept shut up in her own mind. I do not doubt that my young readers are impatient for our party to reach Elm Yilla, that they themselves may also be introduced to cousin Emma East as the railway carriages fly along, they do not fly along quite fast enough for them. Well, if they will go on to the next chapter, they shall get there hefore the carriages, and have a peep at the Weldon fam- ily as they sat in the drawing-room waiting the arrival of the expected guests. •^tm-^^i 12 ELM VILLA. CHAPTEE IT. A. PEEP AT THE EAMILY AT EL:\I VILLA — AK AEEIVAL — A STEOLL IX THE GAEDEIf. A LETTER received in tlio morning had led tlio AYeldon family to expect Mr. and Mrs. Cravr- ford and their little daugliter in the evening, and I assure you, they looked forward to the visit as a very happy event. Elm Villa was two or three miles distant from any town, and there were no houses near it excepting a few cottages. It was seldom that strangers came ; the family, however, was bo numerous, that they scarcely needed visitors. Mr. Weldon was what is called an independent gentle- man — that is, he had enough to live upon without following any business or profes- sion — but he v/as not idle. Then Mrs. VVeldon, instead of having a governess, taught her little girls herself, and the little boys too, when they v^ere A'ery young. But the child- ren had leave to put away their lessons for this one night ; and there they were, little folk and big folk, all, as I said, waiting (and some not waiting very patiently) the arrival of the guesto. ' I wish they would come,' cried Charles, who was standing at one of the windows watching the gate. * Wishing wont bring them,* was the sage remark of his elder brother. No; if it would, they would have been ELM VILLA. 13 here long ago, I fancy,' said papa, who held the youngest little girl on his knee. * I do so long to see Jessy,' cried Sophy ; * I dare say we shall soon be good friends.' ' I hope you will, my dear/ said Mrs. Wel- don. ' I hope you will all try to make her very happy while she is here ; but I have a caution to give you, Sophy,' she added, in a low tone meant for her daughter's ear only ; 'Don't be too loving at first, and fall out , afterwards.' ' Oh, mamma,' she replied, looking down and blushing, 'you don't think I should quar- rel with a visitor ?' ' That w^ould be very unpolite, certainly ; but little people who have hasty tempers, and arc very fond of having their own way, don't always think of what is polite ; and perhapa your cousin w^ont always be disposed to do just what you like.' ' Oh, if she should be cross and ill-tempered, I don't promise not to fall out with her then,' returned the little girl. ' She may not be cross and ill-tempered, and yet, being a visitor, she may expect to have her choice in the games you play at to- gether, and such like ; and I know you are fond of having ever}- thing ^oiir way, Sophy.' * Well, mamma, I think Dora and Harry ought to give up to me, because they are younger ; and Charles and George ought to let me have my own way, because I'm a girl and they are boys : but 1 know very well how to be polite to a visitor.' ' Your notions of politeness are not very - I 14. ELM TILLA. good, Sophy, if you tliink politeness ought to be shewn only to visitors,' said her mother. * Why, there is no need to be polite to bro- thers and sisters, mamma ?' * Yes, my love, there is great need. Kow just tell me what you mean by the word polite?* The little girl considered for a few moments, then answered, 'I think politeness means to try to oblige people, and speak properly to them.' * That is not a bad answer for a little girl : it includes politeness both in speaking and action. But, now, what do you mean by try- ing to oblige ?' 'Being attentive to people, and trying to do what you think will please them.' ' That is very good. ISTow tell me what you mean by speaking properly to them ?' * Oh, taking care not to say anything that is rude.' * No, my love ; that is only not being UU' polite. Politeness in speech is something more than that.' *Yes, mamma, it is saying what is civil, and — ' * And hind^ Sophy, Yes, we cannot be really polite without being kind. Well, is it not as necessary that you should be attentive and civil, and do what you can to please your brothers and sisters, as that you should do all this to a visitor ?' Sophy hung her head and did not answer, for she well knew that if she did she muBt condemn herself. ' It is really more necessary,' Mrs. WeldOn ELM TILLA. 15 continued, ' because you are with tliem so mucli, whereas you receive visitors only now and then ; and I am sure those people who are polite to everybody are the happiest, because — ' *Here they are — here they are,' shouted both George and Charles, on seeing a carriage stop at the gate. * Oh, I'm so glad,' cried Harry, running to the window to look out. 'And I'm so glad too,' added little Dora, jumping down from her papa's knee, and trot- ting after him. This piece of news, of course, cut short Mrs. Weldon's remarks ; and I cannot say that our friend Sophy was very sorry, for she did not quite like to listen to them, though she knew very well they were quite true. Mr. Weldon went to the hall to receive and welcome the guests. Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Weldon were brother and sister, and to them the meeting was particularly delightful. When the party entered the drawing-room, there was another hearty greeting between Mr. and Mrs. Crawford and Mrs. Weldon; and then the young folks came up one by one to kiss their uncle and aunt, and to be introduced to their cousin. There was very little ceremony about this meeting, yet no one could be said to be exactly unpolite excepting little Dora, — as she was not three years old, perhaps she did not know any better. But she did a very wrong thing — what do you think it was? why she peeped into a fancy basket in which Mrs. Crawford bad put sandwiches and tarts to eat on the mamm 16 ELM VILLA. journey, — indeed slie went so far as to poke her little nose into it, to get a smell of tlie fruit ; for as no one but Jessy had been hun- gry, there were several of the tarts left. But I need not have told my young readers that this was rude — of course they know that. Sophy, Hke most little noisy romps, was shy of strangers, and her aunt and uncle h.'id some difficulty in getting replies to two or three questions they put to her. When the greetings were over, Greorge, Charles, and Harry sat quietly down. They knew very well that it would have been very far from polite to make a noise then, however pleased they might be, and that it was proper for them to speak only when spoken to. But where was Emma aU tliis time, and what did she do ? Well, my dear httle friends, I must say I have tried your patience by not telling you anything more about her all this while. But the fact is, Emma was often seen and not heard, or you found out that she was in the room only by some act of kindness she had done you. She had not spoken all the while they were expecting the visitors, but she might have been seen sitting it a wdndo w as busy as a bee, lining a netted work-bag with a piece of blue silk. It w^as meant to be a present to her cousin Jessy, and she wanted to finish it before she arrived. When her aunt and uncle came in she went up to them very afiectionately, and said a few kind words, in a low tone, to her cousin. She helped to take off her aunt's cloak and bonnet, and placed a footstool under her feet, ELM VILIiA. 17 for she looked tired. Emma then began to wait on Jessy : but all was done so quietly, that no one observed her but the person she was obliging. And this was just Avhat she wanted, for she did not do kind things that people might say what a nice little girl ; if she had, there would have been no kindness ill it. But she did so because she liked to be useful and to make other people happy. You must always bear in mind, my dear children, that if you do good actions from wrong motives^ they are not really good, how- ever much you may be praised by your feUow- creatures for them ; and God, who knows every thought of your hearts, as w^ell as every- thing you do, will not be pleased with you nor bless you. ' Well, cousin Emma does seem very kind,' thought Jessy. The evening passed very pleasantly. The children were allov^ed to sit up an hour later than usual, and the eldest four w^ere told they might take one turn round the garden, just to shew it to their little visitor. Emma took Jessy by the hand, and Sophy slid round to the other side, but she had not courage to say much to her yet ; and the two boys walked behind. They shewed her their ow^n gardens — for their kind papa had given each of them a little portion of land to cultivate as they pleased : and when Jessy said she shoidd like to have a garden too, and that she shoidd ask her papa to give her one when they went home again, Emma said she should feel pleasure in teaching her all she knew about gardenings that she might be bettor able to manage it. 18 ELM VjLr,,^ \1 W.Wi"f A^' fil.||i(!i"'"'"\ Tff^j 'iWS'ii'" ELM VILLA. 19 Jessy Ihauked her, tlien turning quickly round, slie exclaimed : ' Whose is this ? Dear me, how full of weeds it is !' The colour which rose to Sophy's cheeks answered the question as plainly as if she had said * it is mhie. ' Jessy had spoken thought- lessly : she did not mean to wound any one's feehngs, but she saw when it was too late that she had done so. It was certainly a rude speech, and Sophy said to herself^ 'Well, mamma has been giving me a lesson about poHteness, I tliink she should have kept it for cousin Jessy.' 'Oh, that's Sophy's,' said Charles, laugh- ing: ' she likes playing at ball, or running after butterflies, or having a race with Eover, better than gardening.' Emma gave her brother a look which said 'It is not kind of you, Charles, to say so ; but gently drawing her cousin away, she only remarked, ' Sophy is not so fond of gardening as we are.' Poor Jessy went to bed a little sorrowful that night, for she could not help thinking of the parting which was to take place early in the morning. However, she was very tired with her long journey, and in spite of hep grief she soon feU asleep. 80 ELM A'lLLA. ,, CHAPTER III. A LITTLE girl's GUIEF — EOW SHE POEG-OT IT — A WALK IX THE EIELDS — A PEEP THEOUGH A MICKOSCOPE. It was a great grief to poor Jessy to bid lier dear papa and mamma good-bye ; and Trlien they were gone, she sat down at a window from which the gate could be seen, and cried bitterly. The rest of the children were going to have their morning run, before school be- gan, but she could not be persuaded to join them. * What's the use of crying? — that wont bring your papa and mamma back again : come and have a game with us, and forget it.' This was master Charles's reasoning ; and there was some wisdom in it, if poor Jessy had not been in too sad a mood to put it to the proof. ' Oh, the time will soon be over,' cried Sophy. ' And then, perhaps, you'll wish you had it back again,' added George. ' Well, if she wont come, don't let us lose our fun,' said Harry, as he bounded out of the room. Emma, who had been very busy at the other end of the room, now came up : ' Will you accept of this, dear Jessy ?' she said, producing a bag, ' mamma has been kind enough to let me furnish it with everything JIXiM YILLA. 21 you ar3 likely to want while you are here; so it will do instead of your work-box," .1 (i 1 h *'J''i:i'yrr,. 1/ mii^is^" 1 " 't'ii«#jt0^aoKicir'iffl»/36^ii.i'» VviiC \P \^««';' Jessy thought it would be ungracious if she did not look at her cousin's present, so she dried her eyes and thanked her. ' Do you like working ?' asked Emma. ' Yes, I like some kinds of work yery much.' * Fancy work, I suppose you mean ?' * Yes : mamma taught me to knit last win- ter, and I was very much pleased with that : I knitted a good many things. Then I like wool-work, and making bead purses, and all those kind of things.' 'But does not your mamma let you make clothes for poor people sometimes ?' ' Oh yes : I knitted some warm socks for Jane Erown's little babv, and sometimes I IMH 22 ELM VILLA. make pinafores for the littla girls in the school.' 'Ah, I'm glad to find you do that,' cried Emma, ' for ^vo do the same : onr mamma abrays likes to see ns doing something "useful. Buu A kiiOw some young ladies who would be iiiihamed to be seen with a bit of plain work in their hands.' * And so do I,' added Jessy. ' There are Caroline and Julia Warren, — they do nothing but paint, and make wax flowers, and such things : they really do not know how to hem a handkerchief.' ' I like drawing and painting very much myself,' said Emma ; ' I'm afraid I should spend too much time at painting, if mamma would let me. Do you paint ?' ' I only began this summer.' ' And do vou like it ?' * I think I shall, when I can do it nicely, but mine are such daubs ! Mamma paints beautifully.' * Well, if you like to draw or paint while you are here, you shaU use my paints and pencils. Papa brought me a large box from London the last time he went there.' * Thank you ; but I am afraid you would all laugh at my doings.' * Oh no, indeed we should not be so un- kind and rude. Every body must make a be- ginning, and I'm sure papa will teach you as well as me and George. Papa teaches us.' ' Do not Charles and Sophy draw, then ?' ' No : Charles lias not begun yet, and So- phy — well, to own the truth,' she added, ELM VILLA. 23 laughing, SSopliv docs not like anything that she must sit stiU to do/ Jessy smiled too. Indeed, she had now quite dried np her tears, and looked herself again. This was just what Emma wanted and had been trying to make her do, and the two little girls sat talking together till the school-room bell rang. When Emma had come up with her work- bag, Mrs. Y/eldon left the room with little Pora, but she came in again as the bell rang. 'What will you do with yourself while your cousins are in school, Jessy my love ?' asked Mrs. Weldon, as she entered the room. ' 111 go to school with them, if you please, aunt,' she answered. ' That's a good little girl,' replied the lady, much pleased at Jessy's cheerful looks ; ' I am sure that is just what your papa and mamma would like you to do.' ' W^e are going to hare a new scholar^' she added, as Charles and Sophy ran in. 'What, is Jessy going to be a scholar?' cried Charles. ' I would not if I were out on a visit,* said Sophy. 'Then that shews that you are a foolish girl, and Jessy is a wise one,* said her mother, ' You ought to be very glad to learn.' Now Sophy thought that as their visitor would of course be aUowod to do as she pleased, she would choose to play, and she hoped that, being nearer her age than any of the other childreu, she would be her com- panion, and play with her. She was, there* 24 ELM TILLA. fore, very mucli disappointed, and a little an- gry with her cousin. However, tliey all went togetlier in the school-room. Mrs. "Weldon had a very pleasant way of teaching, and all the children liked to learn excepting Sophy. She liked it very well some- times, but she did not like it when she was in the humour for play — and that was very often. Even Dora was pleased to learn. Her mamma had the letters of the alphabet pasted on little blocks of wood, and she put them to- gether to make little words, such as CAT — DOG— FLY;— and the Httle lass was so happy when mamma said, * that is quite right, Dora.' Mrs. Weldon gave them lessons in gram- mar, history, and French ; and then Mr. Wei- don took her place. He taught them writing and summing, geography and drawing. He then gave the two elder boys and Emma a latin lesson. "\Miat will the little girls who read this book think of that ? It was Emma's -own choice ; for, though her papa was very willing to teach her, and thought it quite *right she should learn, he would not have forced her. Then Mrs. Weldon came in again, and gave Emma and Sophy music ies- \ 3ons. But the children were not kept in the school all these hours, learning one thing after another, without taking a run between whiles. Their parents thought a little exercise in the midst of study good for their health, besides which, it made learning much more pleasant. After dinner, Mr. Weldon took the elder children out for a walk. They turned out of ELM VILLA. 25 the liigli road up a beautiful shadj lane, Tvhicli brought tliem into a field of corn, nearly ripe. And then they got over a stile into a narrow winding path, by the side of a pretty little rivulet. The rivulet made such a sweet noise, rippling over the white stones at the bottom, and the birds were singing in the hedges and trees, and everything seemed so happy, that our little friend forgot her sorrow, and was as merry as any of her cousins. Sometimes they ran here and there, and gathered diJSerent sorts of flowers, and leaves, and grasses ; and then they all collected round Mr. "VYeldon, and he asked them questions about the things and told them what they did not know. They compared the grasses they had picked with one of the stalks of corn, and found they were nearly alike, only that the corn was larger and stronger. And he did not fail to remind them thai God was the Creator of all : that he made the corn grow to give us bread, and took care of the trees and flowers, and fed the birds, and taught them to sing so sweetly. Then hf talked to them about the glorious sun, which was shining so brightly, and making every object look beautiful. And told them how the pretty rivulet took its rise in a spring, and went on watering the meadows, and turning two or three mills, till at length it reached another stream, and how the two went on together, mingling their waters, until they reached the sea. Jessy's own dear papa used to talk to her in the same manner as she walked with him in the fields, and she could almost fancy it was he who was speaking. 26 ELM TILLA. Wlien they returned liome, there was a treat prepared for them by their kind mamma. It was tea in the summer-house. Dora and Harry ran to meet the party, at the garden- gate, that they might be the first to tell the good news. The summer-house was built of logs of wood, and was thatched with straw as a cottage. It was almost covered with beautiful creeping flowers, and faced the fish- pond, where the little gold-fishes were sporting about in the sunshine. It was a very pretty place ; and somehow the children thought tea and bread and butter always tasted nicer there than anywhere else. After tea, Mr. Weldon said, ' You have had exercise enough for one day ; so, instead of a run in the garden, we will have the micro- scope, and look through it at the things you gathered in your walk.' The children were delighted with the pro- posal, for it was one of their favourite amuse- ments. I suppose most of my young readers know what a microscope is. It is a tube fitted with glasses which make the things put under them look a great deal larger than they really are, and shows very smaU objects which could not be seen at all without them. AU the works of God appear more beautiful the closer they are looked into, and with these glasses people have made many wonderful discoveries. When a little daisy was put under the micros- cope, it looked almost as large as a great sun- flower, and Jessy found that what she at first thought was only a speck of green on one of the white petals, was really a beautiful insect. She ELM VILLA. 27 gaw all its tiny feet, and it seemed to be enjoy- ing itself, sucking sometliing from the flower. She was so highly amused with w^atching it, that she forgot her cousins w^ere waiting for their turn, till Charles, who was sitting next to her, was thoughtless enough to pull it away from under her eye. ' That is very un- polite conduct, master Charles,' said Ins father, 'I wonder that a young gentleman should be- liaye in that manner to a young lady.' Charles was a little ashamed of himself, as Tveli he might be. I must say, however, that tt was not polite for Jessy to'keep it so long, when her cousins wanted to look at it. Mr. Weldon gave her the first peep because she was a visitor ; but visitors ought to study politeness as well as their entertainers. PoHteness consists in kindness in little things. People who are always thinking of what will please them- Eclves, and w^ho care nothing about wdiat will please other people, cannot be polite. 28 i:LM TILL A. CHAPTEE lY. BOMETHII^G PLEASANT — A TEIAL OF TEMPER- A-BIT OF MISCHIEF A:N'D ITS COIiSEQUENCES. Jessy spent lier first day at Elm Yilla so pleasantly, that slie began to think the time would not seem «o very long after all. The next morning she did not need inviting into the garden ; atid she jumped, and skipped and ran, and laughed as loud as any of them. She and Sophy 'now became better acquainted ; indeed, in less ^han a week after Jessy's arri- val, they were ' good friends,' as Sophy said ehe thought they would be. But before ^he week had quite passed, some- thing happened which made Jessy very happy. This was th^ receipt o^ a letter from her dear mamma. It was a long letter, full of affection and good Mvice, and she sat reading it over and over again, instead of going out to play that morrsing. In the midst of her joy, however, something occurred which tried her temper very much. I will teU you what it was, and you shall judge whether it would have tried yours. While she sat quietly reading her letter, Harry o^ept stealthily into the room, and put- ting his hand over her shoulder, snatched it from her, and darted out again. She started up, with a face red with anger, and ran after him. K^ ran into the garden — up one walk r ELM VILLA. 29 and down anotlier, sometimes stopping a little to take breath, and holding the letter up in triumph, as much as to say, 'here it is, if you can get it.' Poor Jessy was at last quite tired of the chase, and sat down and cried. Mrs. Wcldon, who had seen what was going on from one of the windows, now came out and bade Harry give up the letter instantly. She was much displeased Avith him, and sent him into the house, for a punishment. Jessy thus got back her letter, but it was so crum- pled and dirty, it did not look like the same. Then the beautiful forget-me-not which was in the corner was spoiled ! It was very an- noying we must allow ; but the cross looks and hard words which Jessy gave her cousin the rest of the day did not make the paper look clean and nice again, nor did they pre- vent master Harry playing ofi' the same tricka 30 ELM VILLA. again as you will find wlien you liear wtat happened again on the very next evening. The rain was coming down very fast, so the cliildren could not go out into the garden as usual, after tea. They were, therefore, allowed to amuse themselves as they pleased within doors. The two elder boys played games to- gether on their slates ; Jessy and Sophy sat down to make doll's clothes ; Dora had a romp with her kitten ; Emma took out her paint- ing, and Harry strolled from one to another, taking a very unkind pleasure in doing some- thing that was disagreeable to each. It was not because he had no one to play with, for Charles had asked him if he would have a game before he asked Greorge ; and Greorge would rather have been reading, for he had left olf in the middle of a pleasant story be- cause he saw his brother wanted to play. That was true politeness. The truth was this : master Harry was just inclined for what he called a ^hit of fun^ which v/as, in fact, no- thing more nor less than a hit of mischief. Little boys, and big ones too, are apt to think that a love of mischief is a proof of spirit ; but it must be a had spirit which can take pleasure in making another person unhappy. Master Harry had, however, this notion, and he generally played off his tricks upon his sisters. He would hang Sophy's dolls up by the heels, or hide Dora's toys, or run away with Emma's books ; and then he seemed to enjoy the joke, as he called it, as much as if he had done something very clever. I need not Bay such conduct was not polite ; and I hope ELM VILLA. 31 if any of tlie little boys who read this tale are given to do sucli things, they will take the taut, and mend their manners for the future. Harry now darted across the room, and snatched away a beautiful moss-rose which his eldest sister was busily engaged in copying. Jessy saw what he was going to do, but not in time to prevent it. 'ISTow,' thought she, < Emma's temper wdll be tried as mine was yesterday. I know she wanted to finish paint- ing that flower this evening, and she can't get another because of the rain.' * Harry dear, put my rose back in its place, if Tou please,' Emma gently said, as she raised licr head and looked at her brother. * How very politely she speaks to him,' thought Jessy ; ' well, I'm sure I should not have patience for that.' *It will be very unkind of you, if you don't, * for you know I cannot get another rose this evening, — besides another would not do so well.' *Why don't you make him give it to you, cried Jessy, who now became too angry to be any longer silent. ' That is just as he served me yesterday : a rude, tiresome little fellow !' It is a question whether Emma's gentleness would not have had the desired effect, if Jessv had held her tongue ; but her Avords put every good resolve to flight, Harry, who n^rd hitherto kept the flower dangling by the stalk in his hand, now thrust it into his pocket and laughed, as much as to say, ' I dare you to take it from me.* Emma said no more ; but after giving a few r 32 ELM VILLA. touelies to her paiiitiiig, quietlj put away lier drawing-box. * Well, I would not let liim liave Ms own ■way, he's just pleased now,' said Sophy. But Sophy was mistaken: Harry Tva-s not pleased. His sister's meekness made him ashamed of himself, and he was really sorry that he had been so unkind to her, though he was too proud to confess it. Had she threat- ened or tried to punish him, ho would have thought it all fair play to annoy her. ' Here it is, Emmy,' he at length said, put- ting his hand again into his pocket. But the w-'ords were scarcely uttered, when he gave a loud cry, and pulled it quickly out again. A thorn from the stalk of the rose had pierced the fleshy part of his thumb. 'That just serves you right now,' cried Sophy. ' So it does,' added Jessy. But Em- ma ran to him in great concern, exclaiming ' Dear Harry, what is the matter ?' 'Oh, my hand, — my hand!' was Harry's on*ly reply ; for though he had a fine spirit for mischief, he was not very valiant in beariag pain. ' Don't cry, dear — don't cry,* said his sister soothingly. ' I'll take you to mamma, and she will get it out with a fine needle.* ' Mamma will be angry with me,' sobbed the boy. ' No she wont : I'll not tell her how vou got the rose — unless she asks me,' she quickly added, for she remembered that it would be right to tell the truth, even though it should bring her brother into trouble. ELM YILLA. 33 Mrs. "Weldon was in tlie drawing-room alone. On seeing what was the matter, slie ^d not stop to inquire how tlie thorn canK? into Harry's hand, but set about trying to get it out. He did not much like the sight . of the needle, especially when it laid open his 1 fiesh and brought the blood. His mother tried to rouse his courage, by telling him that Eover had a thorn in his foot the week before, and that she had taken it out in the same manner. ' You can't think how patiently the poor fellow stood while I did it,' she said ; ' well, I would not be outdone in courage by a dog. When the operation was over, Mrs. Weldon asked the dreaded question, and Emma would have said all she could to soften the matter, but Harry now plucked up courage to tell the truth himself. It needed some courage, I as- sure you — yes, more than to bear the pain of the thorn. '^ But he loved Emma so much for her kind behaviour, that he wanted to tell his mamma all about it. Mrs. Weldon only said she hoped he would take a lesson by it. She tliought he was already punished enough. But she smiled very sweetly on Emma, which made the little girl feel very happy, — much happier than if she had been cross about the matter. Then she and Harry went into a quiet corner, and there she read an amusing book to him to make him forget his pain. ^ 34 ELiI YILLA. CHAPTER T. A SICK CHAMBER — A CONYERSATION WHICH PASSED THERE BETWEEN TWO LITTLE GIRLS — GOOD llESOLYES. Jessy liad spent nearly tliree weeks at Elm Villa wlien a very sad event occured — at least she tliouglit it very sad — though, when we come to the end of our tale, I think my young readers will see that it was all for the best. The event I speak of was this : Jessy was taken ill. She took a cold one day by sitting down in a draught when she was heated with running about the garden. She did not think much of it at first. Young people are apt to make light of taking a cold, but colds will often lead to very bad consequences, and such was the case with poor Jessy's. She was, at last, too ill to leave her bed, and then she began to wish she were at home, and above all, that she had her dear mamma to nurse her. But Mrs. Crawford was obliged to stay in London. The business she and Mr. Crawford were gone upon required that they should both be there ; and though it was a OTeat trouble to her to be away from her dear Httle girl, when she was sick, it could not be avoided. Jessy did not remember ever having been so ill before. She was feverish and restless, and ELM VILLA. 35 her liead aclicd so sadlj, slie could scarcely raise it from her pillow. Then she could not eat any of the nice things which were brought to her, and she had to take what she called * nasty physic ' every three or four hours. Oh what a treat she would have thought it to be able to run in the garden, and relish her meals. We do not think much about such blessings till we cannot enjoy them any longer. The window of her bed-room looked out upon the garden, and when it was open to admit the air, she could hear her cousins at play : but their merry voices and laughter only seemed to make her more sad. If er aunt was very kind and attentive to her — as kind as her own dear mamma could have been — still Jessy felt very unhappy, and cried a great deal, wliich made her worse. She was sometimes a little peevish too, and made a great fuss at having to take the medi- cine, though she knew it was given to do her good. I am sorry to say, this is not un- common with children, but it is very foohsh and very wrong. It is our duty to be patient when our Heavenly Father sees fit to afflict us ; and we cannot be too grateful to those who w^ait on us, and do all they cau to restore us to health. I must now tell you that Jessy's chief com- panion and nurse was her cousin Emma. I dare say, after all you have heard about her kindness, you are not surprised at this. So- phy was the friend for her play hours, but Emma was the friend for sickness and trouble Sophy would sometimes come into the bed- 36 ELM YILLA. i__ room and say how very sorry slie was tliat lier cousin was not able to run about with them • but she never thought of giving up her owii pleasures that she might amuse" the poor sick little girl. Her sympathy and affection ended in words. .But Emma spimt every moment she possibly could in her cousin's sick-room, and always found means to do as well as sai/ what was kind. Sometimes she would shake up the pil- low, to make it soft and easy for her head • then she would stand over her with a large fan, and try to cool the fever which seemed to be burning her cheeks and forehead. At other times she brought her SAveet nosegays from her own garden; and was at all times ready to sit by her side and read to her. Jessy was pleased with all this, for she was not ungrateful, and now she began to love 3ilmma very much. Poor Jessy had been confined to her bed for nearly a week, and during all that time had very little rest, when one evening she fell into a refreshing sleep. On awaking and opening her eyes, she saw Emma sitting by her side. 'Oh, my dear cousin, I feel so much better,' she exclaimed : ' that nice sleep has done me so much good.' * Has it ? Oh, I am so glad,' cried Emma, JT7iaping up. ' J'U run and tell mamma and all the rest, for I'm sure they'll all be pleased.' 'No, dear cousin, don't go just now,' said Jessy ; ' we are alone, I think, and I should like to talk to you.' * Yes, dear, we are alone,* Emma answered, ELM TULA. 37 < Poor Sarali was very tired and sleepy, so I asked mamma to let me sit by you and watcli you, whilst she went to lie down a little.' ' Ah, that is like you : always thinking of other people,' said Jessy. ' I wish I were as good — sit clown, will you — that's what I want to talk to you about.' * Oh, I'm not good, dear cousin ; I wish I were.' ' Yes, you are very good : mamma told me you were before I saw you, but I did not quite believe her. She told me to copy you ; but I didn't like her to think anybody better than I, so I was not pleased, and did not want to love you. But I do love you now ; indeed I do, dearly.' As Jessy spoke she threw her arms afiectionatoly round her cousin s neck. * And I love you dearly too,' replied Emma, warmly returning the embrace. ' I wish,' said Jessy, as she laid her head again on the pillow, ' I wish you would tell me how it is you are always so good and kind, — it seems so easy to you to be good.' ' I'm not always good and kind, dear Jessy, though I very much wish to be so,' Emma answered, * and it is not so easy to me as you think it is.' ' It seems to me as if it were easy to yoii^ because I never see you even look cross,' said Jessy. ' WeU, dear, as we are quite alone, I will toll you something that I never told to any one else. ' What : how you came to be so good ?' 'No,* Emma 'replied, blushing, 'but how I tried to overcome a bad lemper.' 38 ELM VILLA. • You siirely never were bad-tempered, Em- ma?' ' Yes I was. \"\nien I was a very little girl, I used to fly into dreadful passions, and strike my brothers and sister, if tliey offended me, and say very unkind tilings to them.' ' Well, if you hadn't told me that yourself, I wouldn't have believed it,' said Jessy, ' but go on, I long to know how you got the better of it. ~ t f'\". ■ /'.'/ ' \ \ * Mamma used to tell me a great deal about it, and how very wicked it was. She used to tell me God would not love me or take mc to heaven if I did such things, and then I used to be very sorry, and promise not to do so again ; but somehow, when anv one ELM YILLA. 39 displeased me, I forgot all my good reeo- iutions, and said and did tlie same wicked tilings as before. One day I was in a great passion with my brother George ; I was say- ing something very naughty and unkind to liim because he would not do, what I wished when mamma happened to^come iiito the room. I was frightened when I saw her ; ]3ut she did not speak, she only took my hand and led me up stairs into her bed room. I thought to myself mamma is going to shut me in here, instead of letting me go out to play, for I knew I deserved to be punished i but instead of shutting me in alone, she ttfrned the key upon us both, and then knelt down by the side of the bed and prayed- aloud. " It is nearly four years ago,' Jessy, since this hap- pened, and I was but eight years old ; still I can remember her prayer as well as if I had only just heard it. ^: She said, 'Oh Lord!:' thou great and holy God ! look down on this sinful child before thee, but not in anger* 'KdiYQ pity upon her, for ^the sake of thy dear Son, who shed his precious blood to redeem her. Help her by thy Holy Spirit to over- come her sinful passians. Take away her wicked rebellious heart, and give her a heart which will delight in loving and serving thee, £ind in doing thy haly will.' ^She stopped here, and looked at me; for I was crying bitterly and said, ' Will you kneel down and pray with me, my dear child ?' ' Oh yes, mamma,' I an- swered, and I" Alr'opped on my knees by her side. She t4\cn'^yent on and prayed the same prayer over ^'gain, only in the words which 40 ELM nXLA. she thought a little cliild would use. I said the words after her ; yes, dear Jessy, I said them with my whole heart. I had said pray- ers before — every night and morning, as lono- I could remember ; but I am sure I never realli/ prayed till then. When we got up, mamma put her arms round my neck and kissed me, and wiped away my tears. Then Bhe said to me, * Emmy, my love, you have promised me a gi^eat many timos that you would try to behave better, and I beheve you meant it when you said so, still you have been guilty of the same faults over and over again. I wiU tell you how it is you have never been able to correct them. You have trusted to your own resolves, and have not prayed to God to help you. Every cliild ]i-.,: by natm-e a wicked heart, and it is only thj grace of God which can keep it from doing wicked tlihigs. You must pray, then, for that grace every day, as you have done to-day.' 'Ah, my dear mamm.a has talked to me like that, sometimes,' said Jessy, ' but go on, dear cousin.' ' I did as she told me, and — ' 'And you found it easy to be good then?' Jessy answered. ' jSTo, dear, not quite easy, but I found it possible when I tried very hard. \\lien- ever I was tempted to be 7 t^ WfiKiMVaMW