UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00022245349 
 
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 (EInitier0itp of iQortf) Carolina 
 
 The Sylvester Hassell Collection 
 
 FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 Sylvester Hassell, D. D. 
 
 CLASS OF 62 
 
 GIVEN BY HIS CHILDREN 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 School of Library 
 Science 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/holidaystorieswiOOnewy 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL ROOM. 
 
 See p. 7. 
 
HOLIDAY S 1 IH E S 
 
 MANY PICT I RES 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL RAYNOB 
 
 No. 7 6 BOWERY. 
 
 MDCCCL. 
 
'^ i 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Scene in a School-Room, - 
 
 Page 
 
 7 
 
 The Three Wishes, 
 
 26 
 
 The Young Driver, 
 
 34 
 
 A Fable, 
 
 42 
 
 First Discovert of Columbus, 
 
 47 
 
 Good Company, 
 
 50 
 
 The Bat and the Weasel, 
 
 56 
 
 The Rhyming Pastry-Cook, 
 
 57 
 
 Russian Names, 
 
 78 
 
 The Boy and the Eagle, - 
 
 82 
 
 Emma, 
 
 86 
 
 The Kite, 
 
 89 
 
 The Star of Bethlehem, - 
 
 90 
 
 The Parts of Speech, 
 
 93 
 
 The Nightingale, 
 
 97 
 
 The Battle of Concord, - 
 
 103 
 
 Church of the Holy Sepulchre. - 
 
 106 
 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL- 
 ROOM. 
 
 [The idea of this trial is taken from an old English book, 
 called " Juvenile Trials," where the offences committed 
 by the scholars at an academy, are represented as hav- 
 ing been investigated and punished in a similar man- 
 ner. There is an article of the same character in the 
 Evenings at Home.] 
 
 While the pupils of a celebrated school in 
 one of the interior towns in New England 
 were busily engaged in the studies of the 
 morning, a loud and rather impatient knock 
 was heard at the door. 
 
 The lad, whose seat was placed nearest the 
 entrance, rose, and opened the door; and im- 
 mediately an elderly gentleman entered. With 
 an excited manner, and hardly noticing any 
 one in the room, he made his way, quite as 
 fast as was strictly proper, toward the upper end 
 of the hall where Dr. Aiken, the gentleman 
 who presided over the school, was seated. 
 
 Dr. Aiken arose at the approach of the gen- 
 tleman, reached him a chair, and begged he 
 
8 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 would be seated ; but the stranger declined the 
 offer, and proceeded at once to declare the 
 object of his visit, in the following manner : — 
 
 " I thank you, Dr. Aiken, for your politeness, 
 and I really wish that the boys over whom you 
 preside behaved as boys having the advantage 
 of such an example might be expected to do ; 
 but I am sorry to say that these lads " 
 
 A profound silence prevailed all over the 
 room, the boys most anxiously awaiting the 
 charge that was about to be brought against 
 them. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Danforth," mildly said Dr 
 Aiken, " of what do you complain ? What 
 have these boys been doing?" 
 
 " They have been committing a great offence ; 
 they have been trespassing upon private prop- 
 erty, sir ; and if there is law or justice in the 
 land, they must and shall be punished for it. 
 
 " You may not be aware," continued Mr. Dan- 
 forth, " that the windows of your school-room, 
 or academy, as I believe it is the fashion to call 
 it, look directly out upon a small field at the 
 back of my house. Now, in this field, Dr. 
 Aiken, are at present enclosed a few sheep: 
 they are my property, sir : why they are there, 
 or what I intend to do with them, I do not 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. \J 
 
 feel obliged to say. But this morning, sir, 
 early, these poor animals were annoyed by a 
 most unmerciful shower of missiles, consisting of 
 stones, coal, and other hard substances, which 
 endangered their lives, and alarmed my family ; 
 and it is of this I have come to complain, and 
 for this, I hope the offenders will be brought 
 to condign punishment ; and if the individuals 
 who were guilty of the offence should not be 
 discovered, I hope the whole school will be 
 subjected to punishment, that the person guilty 
 of this enormity may by no means escape." 
 
 "Before proceeding to such lengths," said Dr. 
 Aiken, "I should prefer taking milder measures. 
 We have lately instituted in our school a high 
 court of justice for the trial of all offenders ; 
 and this seems to be a very proper occasion 
 for ordering a session. I therefore appoint, 
 Wednesday afternoon following, a court to be 
 holden in this place for the investigation of 
 this affair ; and if you, sir, will appear with your 
 witnesses and counsel, I hope you will have 
 no reason to complain of the result." 
 
 Mr. Danforth, who was really a mild and 
 excellent man, and had begun to get rid of the 
 momentary anger with which he entered the 
 room, expressed his willingness to submit to 
 
10 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 this method of obtaining redress ; and bidding 
 Dr. Aiken a polite good morning, and returning 
 with a gracious nod of the head the united 
 reverence of the boys, who, after the respectful 
 manner of the olden time, rose in their seats 
 as the stranger left the room, he withdrew. 
 
 On the Wednesday afternoon following, the 
 school-room was open, and the furniture ar- 
 ranged as nearly as possible to resemble that 
 of a court-room. A seat, a little elevated, was 
 placed for the three judges, who had been se- 
 lected and balloted for by the boys, and ap- 
 proved by the master. A box was prepared 
 for the witnesses, and seats for the counsel, and 
 arrangements were made to accommodate the 
 numerous spectators, who, from the novelty 
 of the scene, this being the first trial of the 
 kind which had taken place in the village, felt 
 desirous to be present. All the seats were 
 filled at an early hour. 
 
 At precisely three o'clock, the judges, 
 Charles Mason, Theodore Carrol, and John 
 Marshal, entered, and walked in a grave and 
 proper manner up the hall, and took possession 
 of the chairs prepared for them as judges ; and 
 William Stentor, having previously been chosen 
 crier, opened the court in the regular manner. 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 11 
 
 A lad of the first class, named William 
 Buchanan, who had been, with great unanimity, 
 selected for attorney-general, now rose, and 
 addressed the assembly as follows : — 
 
 " I have no doubt this whole assembly sym- 
 pathizes deeply with me in the extreme regret 
 I feel, as a member of this long-established and 
 justly-celebrated school, that an occurrence like 
 the one which now calls us together should 
 have taken place ; that we, who under the 
 care of our respected principal, and our hon- 
 ored assistant teachers, have been favored with 
 every opportunity for improvement, not only 
 in the languages, the mathematics, and all other 
 branches of a classical education, but also have 
 had instilled into our minds the most correct 
 notions of moral rectitude; that boys so situa- 
 ated should be accused of the nefarious crime 
 of intruding upon the quiet of a neighbor's 
 house, and not only this, but of barbarously, 
 wantonly, and most atrociously frightening, 
 disturbing, hurrying, and perhaps even wound- 
 ing, a flock of that most gentle and inoffensive 
 race of animals — the sheep. It cannot be true 
 that such a crime has been wantonly commit- 
 ted by any member of this favored community. 
 There must be some mistake. Some error has 
 
12 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 thrown upon this school the blame of an ac- 
 tion, the very imagination of which fills one's 
 mind with horror. The blame now rests where 
 I feel confident it ought not to remain. The af- 
 fair is a subject of deep interest, not only to our 
 worthy neighbor the complainant, but to our- 
 selves. Let us, then, with all diligence, give 
 our attention to the investigation of the affair ; 
 let witnesses be called and examined on each 
 side ; and it is my earnest hope and belief that 
 every shadow of blame may, in the course of 
 this investigation, be removed from each 
 member of our beloved community. On ac- 
 count of our youth and the great solemnity 
 of an oath, I shall so far depart from the usages 
 of courts of justice as not to cause the wit- 
 nesses to be sworn ; but I charge you, gentle- 
 men, by the high principles of honor which 
 have ever been known to prevail in this 
 school, each one of you who may be called to 
 testify, that in your evidence you give the truth, 
 the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 
 With the leave of the honorable court, I will 
 now call on the complainant, Jedediah Dan- 
 forth, to state his case, either by himself or his 
 counsel." 
 
 The attorney now sat down, and Mr. Dan- 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 13 
 
 forth rose and addressed the court as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 " On the morning of March 6, of the present 
 year, 18 — , my family, for some reasons which 
 it is unnecessary to detail, had risen rather 
 later than usual. We had not entirely finished 
 breakfast at a quarter before nine. All at 
 once we were startled by an unusual noise in 
 the field immediately adjoining the house. At 
 first it seemed like a shower of stones ; then 
 followed a most sonorous cry from all the 
 sheep, expressive of deep distress. 
 
 "The family all rushed at once to the win- 
 dow ; and the haste in doing this was so great, 
 that the breakfast table was overturned ; the 
 china broken ; the coffee and water urns emp- 
 tied upon the carpet, to its manifest detri- 
 ment; the rolls, butter, sausages, and other 
 appendages of the breakfast table, mingled to- 
 gether on the floor ; and a favorite dog, who 
 was . often engaged in guarding the sheep, 
 but at this moment happened to be reposing 
 under the table, was seriously alarmed, and 
 even injured, and sSnt forth a most piteous yell, 
 which added to the distress and confusion of 
 the occasion." 
 
 The complainant proceeded: — "We went 
 2 
 
14 
 
 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM 
 
 toward the window, and saw the sheep huddled 
 together in a corner of "the field ; and on the 
 ground were several pieces of coal of the 
 anthracite kind, some pieces of stick, and a 
 large strip of bark. As no windows open on 
 this field but those of the school, we of course 
 turned our eyes toward that building, and saw 
 at the window three or four lads ; bul they im- 
 mediately disappeared, and the casement was 
 shut. A few moments after, the school-bell 
 began to ring. From the hour of the day when 
 the assault took place, we supposed no one 
 could be in the room but the boys ; from the 
 circumstance that the missiles found in the 
 field were of coal, bark, and other materials 
 similar to what is made use of for fuel in 
 warming this school ; from the fact that the 
 window was seen to be open, and the boys 
 were noticed skulking away ; — from all these 
 circumstances, I felt then, and still feel — what 
 I have no doubt this examination, if fairly 
 conducted, will make plain — that this most bar- 
 barous, unprovoked, and savage attack on these 
 harmless sheep was committed by some of the 
 lads who attend this school." 
 
 Mr. Danforth was then desired by the court 
 to produce his witnesses. He was prepared ; 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 15 
 
 and Emeline Gadsby, his cook, and Julietta 
 Danforth, his niece, with two or three other 
 members of his family, gave full evidence of 
 the fact of the shower of missiles, the distress 
 of the sheep, the alarm of the family, the up- 
 setting of the breakfast table, the injury done 
 to the dog ; of the window of the school 
 having been seen open, and of their having 
 seen several heads, which were hastily with- 
 drawn, before the window was closed. 
 
 The evidence on the part of the complainant 
 being closed, the solicitor called the witnesses 
 on the part of the school. 
 
 Henry Benedict was first called forward, and 
 after having been cautioned to be very careful 
 to give a full and impartial statement of all 
 he knew of the matter, he spake thus : — 
 
 " I was monitor for the week, at the time 
 this unfortunate affair took place. As the 
 weather is cold at this season, it is the custom 
 for the school to be opened half an hour be- 
 fore the time of the bell ringing, that the boys, 
 as they arrive, may find a shelter from the 
 weather ; and it is the business of the monitor 
 to be present and keep order. On the morn- 
 ing alluded to, I came punctually, but, on en- 
 tering the room, found the fires were not 
 
16 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 kindled, and the windows were still open, it 
 being the custom to leave the upper windows 
 open at night, that the room may be thorough- 
 ly ventilated. The night previous to this 
 affair had been snowy, and I perceived that 
 considerable quantities of snow had collected 
 on the seats directly before the window, on 
 the side of the room nearest to Mr. Danforth's 
 field. But as my seat was on the opposite 
 side of the room, and as I had not quite com- 
 mitted my lesson, I took but little notice of 
 the matter, but seated myself in my own place, 
 and wrapping myself in my cloak, to protect 
 myself as far as possible from the cold, I pro- 
 ceeded to study my lesson, now and then 
 looking round, and trying to keep the boys as 
 quiet as I could. At this time I saw two 
 or three boys come in : one of them was the 
 lad to whom a seat belonged which had the 
 largest pile of snow in the room, drifted in upon 
 it. I heard a pretty loud talking for a minute 
 or two, saw the boy who had been making the 
 fire go up toward the snowy desk : in a mo- 
 ment the window was shut down, and the 
 school-bell began to ring. The business of 
 the school soon commenced, and I thought no 
 more of the occurrences of the morning until 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 17 
 
 the visit of the complainant caused me to 
 endeavor to recollect them as nearly as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 Attorney. — " Who was the lad whose seat 
 was covered with the largest pile of snow, and 
 to whom you just alluded ? " 
 
 " Alfred Wingate, may it please you. This 
 is all I know of the matter." 
 
 Attorney. — " Alfred Wingate, give your 
 evidence." 
 
 Wingate. — "I suppose it is unnecessary 
 to repeat what Benedict has just detailed re- 
 specting the state of the school-room on the 
 memorable morning. It is sufficient to say, 
 that his account, according to the best of my 
 recollection, is correct in every particular. I 
 hope the court will not insist on my repeating 
 the expressions I made use of on finding my 
 seat so covered with snow : they were uttered 
 in haste, and under great excitement, and not 
 to be entirely excused. It was a natural im- 
 pulse, as the court will allow, for me to en- 
 deavor to clear my seat as soon as possible. I 
 immediately called on the sweeper, who had 
 just made the fire, to assist me. In his haste 
 to comply with my request, he brought the 
 coal-hod, which he had just been using, in his 
 
18 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 hand, and some of the snow being scattered 
 on the floor, causing it to be slippery, he fell, 
 and emptied the coal, which remained in his 
 hod, into the midst of the snow-bank. This 
 added to our vexation. But as soon as he had 
 recovered his footing, we procured a shovel, 
 and cleared the bench as fast as possible, 
 throwing the snow out of the open window. 
 We had but just done the business, and closed 
 the window, when the school-bell rang. This, 
 gentlemen, is all I know of the matter. And is 
 the act of removing the snow from my seat 
 one which I could have avoided ? The ad- 
 mixture of coal and bark was altogether acci- 
 dental ; and, far from having committed the act 
 with any intention of injuring the sheep of the 
 complainant, I had been too much vexed with 
 my own personal inconveniences to think of 
 him or his sheep from the beginning to the end 
 of the matter." 
 
 Attorney. — " What other boys were with 
 you at the time? " 
 
 Wingate. — "I do not recollect any but a 
 small boy — Charles Hewins." 
 
 Wingate then sat down, and Hewins was 
 desired to tell what he knew of the matter. 
 
 Charles Hewins. — "The morning the 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 19 
 
 difficulty happened, I had come to school 
 quite early; and it was partly because I had 
 a nice new mahogany ruler, which my father 
 had given me, and which I wanted to show to 
 some of the boys. As Wingate has always 
 been very kind to me, I ran up to his seat 
 first with it ; but I found him in a great pet 
 at having his seat covered with snow ; and just 
 as I was holding out my ruler, the sweeper, 
 who had just come toward us with the coal- 
 hod in his hand, slipped down, and striking 
 against my ruler, knocked it out of my hand. 
 I began to cry and try to find it in the snow; 
 but Wingate was in such a hurrv to clear his 
 seat, and the sweeper in such -i fright, and 
 suffering such pain from his fall, that neither 
 of them paid any attention to me. I ran to 
 the fireplace, and got a piece of bark, to poke 
 about in the snow for my ruler ; but I could 
 not find it, and in the hurry they knocked the 
 bark out of my hand, and began to shovel 
 the snow and coals out of the window ; and 
 I have never seen my dear, nice ruler since. ' 
 I am sure, if Mr. Danforth's sheep were hurt 
 by it, it was no fault of mine, for I wish I had 
 it now." Here the poor little boy's sobs in- 
 terrupted him, and he was forced to sit down. 
 
20 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 The sweeper, James Grimes, was now called. 
 He testified that at a rather later hour than usual, 
 he went to make up the fire in the school. 
 He had been but recently employed in this 
 way, and he was fearful that he should not be 
 able to give satisfaction. In consequence of 
 the heavy snow which had fallen the night 
 before, and which was still falling in the 
 morning, he had not completed, so early as 
 usual, his preparations for making the school 
 fire. This accounted for his being rather 
 late. He had some difficulty in kindling the 
 fire, not having been much accustomed to 
 the use of the coal called anthracite. [Here 
 the witness was proceeding to detail the 
 method he had employed ; but the court 
 checked him, and desired him to confine him- 
 self as much as possible to the circumstances 
 connected with the case under consideration.] 
 The witness begged pardon of the court, and 
 proceeded : — "I had just finished making the 
 fire, and the hod was still in my hand, when 
 I was called on by a young gentleman, the 
 one I see yonder, (pointing to Wingate,) to 
 come and assist him in clearing the snow from 
 his bench. This I hastened to do ; but, on 
 reaching the spot, I tumbled down, my foot 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 21 
 
 having slipped upon the floor : at the same 
 time, the coal-hod fell from my hand, and 
 some pieces of the coal, which had remained 
 in it, mingled with the snow, which, as soon 
 as I recovered my standing, I assisted the 
 young gentleman to throw out of the window. 
 There was a little hoy near us who was crying, 
 and said he had lost his new ruler among the 
 snow. But we did not see it ; and, in fact, 
 before we got the snow thrown out of the 
 window, the school-bell began to ring, and I 
 retired." 
 
 Here the complainant was asked whether 
 he had picked up any of the articles thrown 
 at the sheep. 
 
 The complainant produced a mahogany 
 ruler, which he said he found among pieces 
 of coal, bark, and snow-balls, in his field, on the 
 morning of the attack. The ruler was shown 
 to Charles He wins, and he was asked whether 
 he had ever seen it before. 
 
 He wins. — " Indeed, it is my own capital new 
 ruler, which I never expected to see again; 
 and if your honor will examine closely one 
 end of the ruler, you will see a little sliding 
 piece of wood, which will draw out, and un- 
 derneath which is my name, neatly printed " 
 
22 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 Here the examination was made, and the 
 sliding piece of wood having been removed, the 
 words " Charles Hewins " were plainly seen. 
 
 The witnesses on both sides having now 
 been examined, the senior judge, Charles 
 Mason, rose and addressed the assembly as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Having patiently listened to all the evi- 
 dence which has been brought forward on 
 each side of this intricate case, I think we 
 may venture to refer it to the jury. If they 
 shall find that the attack on the sheep, though 
 painful to the animals, and distressing to their 
 protectors, had been the result of accident, 
 and h,ad not happened through any malicious 
 intention or wicked device on the part of any 
 one; and if they find that this attack must 
 have proceeded, without doubt, from Master 
 Wingate and the sweeper ; yet still, on exam- 
 ination, the jury should be convinced that 
 they had acted as discreetly as, under all cir- 
 cumstances, they could have been expected to 
 do ; since, considering the lateness of the 
 hour, which made it impossible to take the 
 snow down stairs in a basket, or other convey- 
 ance, it was most natural they should find 
 relief in throwing it out of the window, par- 
 
SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 23 
 
 ticularly as the sash was thrown up ; — if, taking 
 all things into consideration, they shall feel 
 obliged to give a verdict against the defend 
 ants, yet I hope they will make the damages 
 as light as possible." 
 
 The jury retired for a few moments, and, 
 on coming in, the foreman said that they 
 found the defendants, Alfred Wingate and 
 James Grimes, guilty of a trespass on the sheep 
 of Jedediah Danforth ; but as the offence was 
 altogether unintentional, they recommended 
 them to the mercy of the court. 
 
 The judge, after some conversation with 
 the other members of the bench, ordered that 
 the defendants make a visit to Mr. Danforth, 
 and apologize to him in the most polite man- 
 ner for their attack on his sheep, and assure 
 him that, so far as they were concerned, he 
 might feel assured his sheep should in future 
 be as secure as when disporting themselves 
 in the sunny glades of Spain, if they were 
 Merinos, or when roaming over the happy 
 hills of New England, if they were native 
 sheep. 
 
 Mr. Danforth expressed himself perfectly 
 satisfied with the manner in which the affair 
 had been investigated, and its result. He felt 
 
24 SCENE IN A SCHOOL-ROOM. 
 
 perfectly sure that the attack was purely ac- 
 cidental, and, to prevent all further trouble or 
 delay, he would shake hands with the defend- 
 ants on the spot, and exonerate them from all 
 future blame. He also should be happy to 
 return to little Hewins his ruler, and wished 
 him much pleasure from its use. He thanked 
 the court for the great attention they had 
 paid to his complaints, and declared it to be 
 his firm determination to send his children, 
 grandchildren, and all over whom he had any 
 influence, to a school where such exact justice 
 was administered, and where such a high moral 
 sense prevailed. 
 
 The chief justice then made a short ad- 
 dress to the assembly, thanking the masters 
 for their kind countenance, and the boys for 
 the propriety of their conduct, and added the 
 expression of his own personal satisfaction 
 that the investigation of the affair had termi- 
 nated without any injury having been done to 
 the character of the school. 
 
 So the court adjourned. 
 
26 
 
 THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 In old times, when people sometimes had 
 visits from angels, when they thought they 
 were only receiving strangers, it happened that 
 one of these good beings found himself out 
 rather late ; and it grew dark before he could 
 reach a tavern. As he travelled along, he came 
 to a place where there were two houses, di- 
 rectly opposite «to each other. One was large 
 and beautiful ; the other was small, and looked 
 poor: one belonged to a rich, and the othei 
 to a poor man. The traveller said, " I shall 
 be no burden to the rich man ; I will knock 
 at his door." The rich man, when he heard 
 a knocking at the door, opened the window, 
 and asked the stranger what he wanted. The 
 traveller answered, " A night's lodging." The 
 rich man looked sharply at the traveller, and, 
 because he saw he had poor clothes on, and 
 
THE THREE WISHES. 27 
 
 did not appear as if he had much money in 
 his pocket, shook his head, and said, " I can- 
 not take you in ; my chambers are all strewed 
 with herbs and seeds, and if I took in every 
 one who knocked at my door, I should soon 
 have to take a staff, and set out begging for 
 myself. You must look somewhere else for a 
 lodging." He slammed down his window, 
 and left the poor traveller standing without. 
 The traveller turned round toward the little 
 house and knocked. This he had no sooner 
 done than the poor man opened his little door, 
 and begged the wanderer to come in and spend 
 the night. " It is very dark," said he, " and 
 you cannot go any farther to-night." The 
 traveller was pleased, and went into the house. 
 The wife of the poor man reached out her 
 hand, bade him welcome, and begged him to 
 make himself at home. She had not much to 
 give, but what she had she gave with her whole 
 heart. Then she put some potatoes in the 
 fire, and while they were roasting, she milked 
 her goat, that he might have a cup of milk 
 with his potatoes ; and when the table was 
 prepared, the traveller placed himself at the 
 table, and ate and praised the supper. When 
 he had eaten, and it was time to go to bed, the 
 
28 THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 wife whispered to her husband that they would 
 make themselves a bed of straw for the night, 
 that the poor tired traveller might rest upon 
 their bed, for they had but one. The man 
 said, " With all my heart," and he begged the 
 stranger to lie down on their bed and rest 
 himself. The traveller did not wish to deprive 
 the poor people of their bed, but they urged 
 him so much, that at last he consented, and 
 laid himself down, while the good couple slept 
 on the straw on the floor. The next morning 
 they got up before day, and prepared breakfast 
 for their guest. When the sun shone into the 
 window and the traveller had got up, he ate 
 again with them, and wished to go on his 
 journey. But as he was standing at the door, 
 he said to them, " You have been so kind and 
 good to me, that if you will wish three times, 
 your wishes shall be granted." Then the poor 
 man said, " What should I wish for but eternal 
 happiness, and that we two, as long as we 
 live, may have our daily bread. For the third 
 wish, I do not know what to ask." The trav- 
 eller said, " Would you not like a new house, 
 in exchange for your old one ? " The man 
 said, " If this could come to pass, I should like 
 it ;" and immediately this wish was fulfilled ; 
 
THE THREE WISHES. 29 
 
 the old house was changed to a new one, and 
 then the traveller went his way. 
 
 When the rich man looked out of his win- 
 dow in the morning, he saw a new house 
 standing opposite, in place of the old one. 
 He rubbed his eyes, called his wife, and said, 
 " Wife, look here ; see what has happened ; 
 yesterday evening there stood opposite a miser- 
 able hut, and now here is a fine new house ; 
 run over and find out how it has happened." 
 The wife went to see her poor neighbor, and 
 asked her what it meant. The poor woman 
 told her, that they gave a poor traveller a 
 night's lodging, and that when he bade them 
 good by, he granted them three wishes — eter- 
 nal blessedness, their daily bread, and a new 
 house for the old one. When the rich man's 
 wife heard this, she ran back and told her 
 husband. He said, " I could tear my hair, I 
 am so vexed with myself : if I had only known 
 who the stranger was, I would have taken him 
 in ; but I turned him away." " Make haste," 
 said his wife ; " get upon your horse ; the man 
 has not gone far ; you will overtake him, and 
 he will give you your three wishes." 
 
 The rich man rode forward. He overtook 
 the traveller, spoke kindly to him, and told 
 3* 
 
30 THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 him, he hoped he would not be angry that he 
 did not take him in the last night; that he 
 went to look for his door key, and that while 
 he was gone the stranger went away ; but he 
 hoped when the traveller returned from his 
 journey, he would stop at his house. " Well," 
 said the traveller, " if I return, I will stop." 
 
 Then the rich man asked if he would be so 
 kind as to grant him his three first wishes, as 
 he had done his neighbor. " Yes," said the 
 traveller, " I can grant them to you ; but they 
 will not do you any good, and you had better 
 not form them," But the rich man thought 
 he should certainly wish for something that 
 would be very delightful, if he were only sure 
 that his wish would be granted. " Ride home," 
 said the traveller, " and the three first wishes 
 which you make shall come to pass." 
 
 Now the rich man, as he was riding along, 
 began to think what he should wish for ; and 
 while he was thinking, he dropped his bridle, 
 and the horse began to spring, so that all his 
 thoughts were jumbled up, and he did not know 
 how to get them in order. He grew angry 
 with his horse, and said impatiently to the 
 animal, " I wish your neck were broken." No 
 sooner was the word spoken, than, plump! 
 
THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 31 
 
 down he fell to the ground ; and there the 
 horse lay, and never got up again ; the man's 
 wish was fulfilled ; the horse's neck was broken. 
 He thought he would not leave the saddle 
 there ; so he cut it off the horse's back, swung 
 it on his own, and went towards his home on 
 foot. He was comforted, however, with the 
 thought that there were still two wishes re- 
 maining. As he trudged along over the sand 
 and the noon-day sun scorched him, he grew 
 hot and impatient, and could not fix in his 
 mind what he should wish for. " If I were to 
 wish for all the kingdoms in the world and all 
 their treasures, there would still be something 
 that I should want ; I will wish in such a man- 
 ner that there may be no other thing I could 
 desire. One thing would be too little, another 
 too much." While his mind was so disturbed, 
 he thought of his wife. " There she sits," 
 said he, " in her cool parlor, dressed in her 
 best, while I am tugging along this heavy 
 saddle." This made him feel cross, and with- 
 out thinking, he said, " I wish she was sitting 
 on this saddle, instead of its breaking my 
 back I " No sooner had he spoken, than the 
 saddle vanished from his back, and he recol- 
 lected that two of his wishes were spent. Now 
 
32 THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 he grew very impatient ; he began to run, and 
 he resolved he would sit down by himself at 
 home and think over his last wish, and have that 
 so good, that it might make up for what he had 
 lost by making the other two so hastily. But 
 when he reached his door, there sat his wife on 
 the middle of the saddle ; she could not rise up 
 from it, and was weeping and wailing. Then 
 said the husband, " Be quiet, wife ; I will wish 
 you all the kingdoms in the w T orld, only sit 
 still." But she answered, " What good would 
 all the kingdoms in the world do me if I must 
 sit always upon this saddle ? You have wished 
 me upon it ; you must wish me off again." 
 Whether he would or not, he was obliged to 
 make the third wish, that she should be freed 
 from the saddle ; and this was quickly fulfilled. 
 So he had gained nothing but vexation, trouble, 
 and a dead horse. But the poor couple lived 
 contented, quietly, and piously,' to the end of 
 their lives. 
 
THE YOUNG DRIVER. 
 
 
34 
 
 THE JOUNG DRIVER; 
 
 OR, THE GIG DEMOLISHED. 
 
 Ye heroes of the upper form, 
 Who long for whip and reins, 
 
 Come, listen to a dismal tale, 
 Set forth in dismal strains : — 
 
 Young Jehu was a lad of fame, 
 
 As all the school can tell ; 
 At cricket, ball, and prison bars, 
 
 He bore away the bell. 
 
 Now welcome Christmas time was come, 
 And boys, with merry hearts, 
 
 Were gone to visit " dear mamma," 
 And eat her pies and tarts. 
 
 As soon as Jehu saw his sire, 
 " A boon, a boon," he cried ; 
 
 " O, if I am your darling boy, 
 Let me not be denied." 
 
THE YOUNG DRIVER. 
 
 35 
 
 " My darling boy, indeed, thou art," 
 
 The father wise replied ; 
 " S.o name the boon ; I promise thee 
 
 It shall not be denied." 
 
 " Then give me, sir, your long-lashed whip, 
 
 And give your gig and pair, 
 To drive along to yonder town, 
 
 And nourish through the fair." 
 
 The father shook his head. " My son, 
 
 You know not what you ask ; 
 To drive a gig in crowded streets 
 
 Is no such easy task. 
 
 " The horses, full of rest and corn, 
 
 'Scarce I myself can guide ; 
 And much, I fear, if you attempt, 
 
 Some mischief will betide. 
 
 " Then think, dear boy, of something else 
 That 's better worth your wishing ; 
 
 A bow and quiver, bat and balls, 
 A rod and lines for fishing." 
 
 But nothing could young Jehu please, 
 
 Except a touch at driving ; 
 'Twas all in vain, his father found, 
 
 To spend his breath in striving. 
 
36 
 
 THE YOUNG DRIVER. 
 
 " At least, attend, rash boy," he cried, 
 
 " And follow good advice, 
 Or in a ditch both gig and you 
 
 Will tumble in a trice. 
 
 " Spare, spare the whip, hold fast the reins 
 
 The steeds go fast enough ; 
 Keep in the middle, beaten track, 
 
 Nor cross the ruts so rough. 
 
 " And when within the town you come, 
 
 Be sure, with special care, 
 Drive clear of sign-posts, booths, and stalls, 
 
 And monsters of the fair." 
 
 The youth scarce heard his father out, 
 But roared, " Bring out the whisky." 
 
 With joy he viewed the rolling wheels, 
 And prancing ponies, frisky. 
 
 He seized the reins, and up he sprung, 
 And waved the whistling lash ; 
 
 " Take care ! take care ! " his father cried 
 But off he went, slap dash. 
 
 " Who 's this light spark ? " the horses thought 
 " We '11 try your strength, young master ; 
 
 So o'er the rugged turnpike road 
 Still faster ran, and faster. 
 
THE YOUNG DRIVER- 37 
 
 Young Jehu, tottering in his seat, 
 
 Now wished to pull them in ; 
 But pulling, from so young a hand, 
 
 They valued not a pin. 
 
 A drove of grunting pigs before 
 
 Filled up the narrow way ; 
 Dash through the midst the horses drove, 
 
 And made a rueful day ; — 
 
 For some were trampled under foot, 
 Some crushed beneath the wheel ; 
 
 Lord, how the drivers cursed and swore, 
 And how the pigs did squeal ! 
 
 A farmer's wife, on old blind Ball, 
 
 Went slowly on the road, 
 With butter, eggs, and cheese, and cream, 
 
 In two large panniers stowed. 
 
 Ere Ball could stride the rut, amain 
 The gig came thundering on - — 
 
 Crash went the pannier, and the dame 
 And Ball lay overthrown. 
 
 Now through the town the mettled pair 
 
 Ran rattling o'er the stones ; 
 They drove the crowd from side to side. 
 
 And shook poor Jehu's bones. 
 
38 THE YOUNG DRIVER. 
 
 When, lo ! directly in their course, 
 A monstrous form appeared ; 
 
 A shaggy bear, that stalked and growled, 
 On hinder legs upreared. 
 
 Sideways they started at the sight, 
 And whisked the gig half round ; 
 
 Then cross the crowded market-place 
 They flew with furious bound. 
 
 First, o'er a heap of crockery ware 
 
 The rapid car they whirled ; 
 And jugs, and mugs, and pots, and pans, 
 
 In fragments wide were hurled. 
 
 A booth stood near, with tempting cakes 
 And grocery richly fraught ; • 
 
 All Birmingham, on t'other side, 
 The dazzled optics caught. 
 
 With active spring the nimble steeds 
 Rushed through the pass between, 
 
 And scarcely touched ; the car behind 
 Got through not quite so clean. 
 
 For while one wheel one stall engaged, 
 
 Its fellow took the other ; 
 Dire was the clash ; down fell the booths, 
 
 And made a dreadful pother 
 
THE YOUNG DRIVER. 39 
 
 Nuts, oranges, and gingerbread, 
 
 And figs, here rolled around ; 
 And scissors, knives, and thimbles there 
 
 Bestrewed the glittering ground. 
 
 The fall of boards, the shouts and cries, 
 
 Urged on the horses faster, 
 And as they flew, at every step 
 
 They caused some new disaster. — 
 
 Here lay o'erturned, in woful plight, 
 
 A pedler and his pack ; 
 There, in a showman's broken box, 
 
 All London went to wrack. 
 
 But now, the fates decreed to stop 
 
 The ruin of the day, 
 And make the gig, and driver too, 
 
 A heavy reckoning pay. 
 
 A ditch there lay, both broad and deep, 
 Whose streams, as black as Styx, 
 
 From every quarter of the town, 
 Their muddy currents mix. 
 
 Down to its brink, in heedless haste, 
 
 The frantic horses flew, 
 And in the midst, with sudden jerk, 
 
 Their burden overthrew. 
 
40 THE YOUNG DRIVER. 
 
 The prostrate gig, with desperate force, 
 
 They soon pulled out again, 
 And at their heels, in ruin dire, 
 
 Dragged lumbering o'er the plain. 
 
 Here lay a wheel, an axle there, 
 
 The body there remained ; 
 Till, severed limb from limb, the car 
 
 Nor name nor shape retained. 
 
 But Jehu must not be forgot — 
 
 Left floundering in the flood, [eyes 
 
 With clothes all drenched, and mouth and 
 
 Beplastered o'er with mud. 
 
 In piteous case he waded through, 
 
 And gained the slippery side, 
 Where grinning crowds were gathered round 
 
 To mock his fallen pride. 
 
 They led him to a neighboring pump, 
 
 To clear his dismal face, 
 Whence, cold and heartless, home he slunk, 
 
 Involved in sore disgrace. 
 
 And many a bill for damage done, 
 
 His father had to pay : 
 Take warning, youthful drivers all, 
 
 From Jehu's first essay. 
 
 Mrs. Barbauld 
 
42 
 
 A FABLE 
 
 " What a wearisome life do I lead here ! w 
 said a little fountain to itself one day, as it 
 bubbled up in the middle of a very small green 
 spot in an unfrequented part of a burning 
 desert. " What an insignificant little fountain 
 I am ! I have not the satisfaction of pouring 
 out a large stream of water and fertilizing 
 a great extent of this endless desert. If I 
 were, then I should see whole caravans of 
 men, and horses, and camels, stop around me, 
 and quench their thirst, and repose their weary 
 limbs upon the fresh green grass that would 
 spring up about me. To be sure, it is green 
 as far as I can see, for I am such a very little 
 stream that my vision extends but a very little 
 way ; but I know enough, to be sure that it is 
 but a very little space that my waters can make 
 green and keep moist." 
 
 As the little spring was bubbling out in a 
 low tone these lamentations, she heard a bustle 
 
A FABLE. 43 
 
 and a noise at a distance, and presently the 
 cry of " Joy ! Joy ! " was heard. As the sound 
 came nearer, there appeared a party of trav- 
 ellers, consisting of an elderly gentleman and 
 lady, a little boy, and two servants, who were 
 assisting the gentleman to support a young 
 girl, who seemed to be fainting from fatigue, 
 or some other cause. The little boy reached 
 first the borders of the spring, and rushing up 
 to the little fountain, quenched his thirst at the 
 pure source, and ran back to meet his party, 
 crying out, " Cheer up, sister ; here is a sweet 
 fountain, and a nice little bed of green grass 
 just big enough for you to lie down upon." 
 The party now came up ; and having placed 
 the young lady on the grass, and sprinkled her 
 face and moistened her lips with the water, 
 she opened her eyes, and by degrees regained 
 strength, and was able to support herself. 
 
 By this time the remainder of the party came 
 up, which consisted of horses, servants, and 
 camels, furnished with all the usual appendages 
 of caravans in the desert. As soon as they 
 stopped, and had quenched the thirst of the 
 men and the beasts, they spread a cloth, and 
 arranged a meal, which was eaten with good 
 relish by all the party, and by none with a 
 
44 A FABLE. 
 
 better than the young lady, who had now en- 
 tirely recovered herself, and was able to take 
 her part in the gay conversation. 
 
 From this conversation, which was gay now 
 that the dangers were all over, the fountain 
 learned that the party, in crossing the desert, 
 had wandered from the usual path which led 
 by one of the large springs, in consequence of 
 their having heard that there was a party of 
 Arabian robbers in that neighborhood. Their 
 trusty guide, who knew perfectly all the parts 
 of the desert, was acquainted with this little 
 fountain, and had ventured away from the 
 beaten track that they might elude the robbers. 
 The path proved longer than they had expect- 
 ed, and the young lady, who was rather deli- 
 cate in health, had become almost exhausted 
 when they reached the welcome spring in the 
 manner I have just related. 
 
 After having refreshed and rested themselves, 
 the party resumed their journey, and reached 
 the e.nd of it in safety. They never ceased to 
 remember with gratitude the little spring sur- 
 rounded with its border of grass ; and the 
 young lady, who drew with some skill, made 
 a little sketch of the fountain,, which she fin- 
 ished carefully when she reached her own 
 
A FABLE. 45 
 
 home ; and it formed a very pretty picture, at 
 which the family often looked with pleasure. 
 
 After they were gone, the little fountain 
 bubbled away much more gayly than before. 
 She said to herself, " How glad I am that all 
 the water in the desert was not poured out 
 into the great springs, but that there are some 
 little fountains scattered around, here and 
 there ! And what a happy little fountain I am, 
 that I have been able to give so much pleasure 
 and relief to these good people ! I will never 
 vex myself at my insignificance again, but keep 
 bubbling away as fast as I can, although I only 
 fertilize a very little spot ; since, if I always 
 take care to sprinkle my water about so judi- 
 ciously as to keep every part of the grass with- 
 in my reach moist and green, and always have 
 a draught ready for every weary traveller that 
 comes afong, I shall do all that is expected of 
 any spring, great or small." 
 
47 
 
 THE FIRST DISCOVERY OF 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 " The howling winds forbid us 
 
 To trust the fatal main ; 
 O, turn our wandering vessel 
 
 To harbor once again. 
 
 " Why to this bold Italian 
 Our lives, our hopes confide ? 
 
 No golden land awaits us 
 Beyond the shoreless tide. 
 
 " How long shall he deceive us 
 With boasting vain and loud ? 
 
 And when we gaze for land, 
 He can show us but a cloud ! " 
 
 The gallant leader heard, 
 But he listened undismayed, 
 
 Though he saw their furious glances, 
 And their daggers, half displayed. 
 
48 THE FIRST DISCOVERY OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 No fear was in his soul, 
 
 But his heart was wrung with woe 
 Shall he yield before their murmurs, 
 
 And his glorious meed forego ? 
 
 Had he braved the ocean's terrors, 
 In tempest and in night, 
 
 And shall he furl his sails 
 
 With the promised goal in sight ? 
 
 For he looked toward the horizon, 
 And marked the setting sun ; 
 
 ,And by its ruddy light he knew, 
 That all his toils were done. 
 
 'Twas in the deepest midnight, 
 As they cut the yielding wave, 
 
 When not a star was shining, 
 To guide them or to save ; — 
 
 As in awful, hopeless silence, 
 Their onward course they steer, 
 
 Far in the murky distance, 
 Lo ! glimmering lights appear. 
 
 In breathless joy and wonder, 
 They watch the opening sky, 
 
THE FIRST DISCOVERY OF COLUMBUS. 49 
 
 And with the morning rises 
 Their rapturous certainty. 
 
 Through the silvery vapor gleaming, 
 Extends the welcome strand ; 
 
 And trees, and rocks, and mountains, 
 Before their view expand. 
 
 They breast the foamy surges, 
 
 And, shouting, leap ashore ; 
 While every echo answers, 
 
 " God and Saint Salvador 1 " 
 
50 
 
 GOOD COMPANY. 
 
 " Be sure, Frederic, always to keep good company," 
 was the final admonition of Mr. Lofty, on dismissing 
 his son for the university. 
 
 " I entreat you, Henry, always to choose good com- 
 pany" said Mr. Manly, on parting with his son to an 
 apprenticeship in a neighboring town. 
 
 But it was impossible for two people to mean more 
 differently by the same words. 
 
 In Mr. Lofty's idea, good company was that of per- 
 sons superior to ourselves in rank and fortune. By 
 this alone he estimated it ; and the degrees of compa- 
 rison, better and best, were made exactly to corres- 
 pond to such a scale. Thus, if an esquire was good 
 company, a baronet was better, and a lord, best of all, 
 provided that he was not a poor lord ; for in that case, 
 a rich gentleman might be at least as good. For as, 
 according to Mr. Lofty's maxim, the great purpose for 
 which companions were to be chosen, was to advance 
 a young man in the world by their credit and interest, 
 those were to be preferred, who afforded the best pros- 
 pects in this respect. 
 
 Mr. Manly, on the other hand, understood by good 
 company, that which was improving to the morals 
 and understanding ; and by the best, that which to a 
 high degree of these qualities, added true politeness 
 of manners. As superior advantages in education, to 
 a certain point, accompany superiority of condition, 
 
GOOD COMPANY. 
 
 51 
 
 he wished his son to prefer as companions those 
 whose situation in life had afforded them the opportu- 
 nity of being well educated ; but he was far from de- 
 siring him to shun connections with worth and talents, 
 wherever he should find them. 
 
 Mr. Lofty had an utter aversion to low company, by 
 which he meant inferiors, people of no fashion and 
 figure, shabby fellows, whom nobody knows. 
 
 Mr. Manly equally disliked low company, under- 
 standing by it persons of mean habits and vulgar con- 
 versation. 
 
 A great part of Mr. Manly's good company, was 
 Mr. Lofty's low company ; and not a few of Mr. 
 Lofty's very best company, were Mr. Manly's very 
 worst. 
 
 Each of the sons understood his father's meaning, 
 and followed his advice. 
 
 Frederic, from the time of his entrance at the uni- 
 versity, commenced what is called a tuft-hunter, from 
 the tuft in the cap worn by young noblemen. He took 
 pains to insinuate himself into the good graces of all 
 the young men of high fashion in his college, and be- 
 came a constant companion in their schemes of frolic 
 and dissipation. They treated him with an insolent 
 familiarity, often bordering upon contempt ; but fol- 
 lowing another maxim of his father's, " one must stoop 
 to rise," he took it all in good part. He totally neglect- 
 ed study, as unnecessary, and indeed inconsistent with 
 his plan. He spent a great deal of money, with which 
 his father, finding that it went in good company ^ at 
 first supplied him freely. In time, however, his ex- 
 penses amounted to so much, that. Mr. Lofty, who 
 kept good company too, found it difficult to answer his 
 demands. A considerable sum that he lost at play 
 
52 
 
 GOOD COMPANY. 
 
 with one of his noble friends, increased the difficulty. 
 If it were not paid, the disgrace of not having dis- 
 charged a debt of honor would lose him all the favor 
 he had acquired; yet the money could not be raised 
 without greatly embarrassing his father's affairs. 
 
 In the midst of this perplexity, Mr. Lofty died, leav- 
 ing behind him a large family, and very little property. 
 Frederic came up to town, and soon dissipated in good 
 company the scanty portion that came to his share. 
 Having neither industry, knowledge, nor reputation, 
 he was then obliged to become an humble dependent 
 on the great, flattering all their follies, and minister- 
 ing to their vices, treated by them with mortifying 
 neglect, and equally despised and detested by the rest 
 of the world. 
 
 Henry, in the mean time, entered with spirit into 
 the business of his new profession, and employed his 
 leisure in cultivating an acquaintance with a few 
 select friends. These were partly young men in a 
 situation similar to his own, partly persons already 
 settled in life, but all distinguished by propriety of 
 conduct, and improved understandings. From all 
 of them he- learned somewhat valuable ; but he was 
 more particularly indebted to two of them, who were 
 in a station of life inferior to that of the rest. One 
 was a watchmaker, an excellent mechanic, and tolera- 
 ble mathematician, and well acquainted with the con- 
 struction and use of all the instruments employed in 
 experimental philosophy. The other was a young 
 druggist, who had a good knowledge of chemistry, 
 and'frequently employed himself in chemical opera- 
 tions and experiments. Both of them were men of 
 very decent manners, and took a pleasure in commu- 
 nicating their knowledge to such as showed a taste for 
 
GOOD COMPANY. 
 
 53 
 
 similar studies. Henry frequently" visited them, and 
 derived much useful information from their instruc- 
 tions, for which he ever expressed great thankfulness. 
 These various occupations and good examples effec- 
 tually preserved him from the errors of youth, and he 
 passed his time with credit and satisfaction. He had 
 the same misfortune with Frederic, just as he was 
 ready to come out into the world, of losing his father, 
 upon whom the support of the family chiefly depended ; 
 but in the character he had established, and the know- 
 ledge he had acquired, he found an effectual resource. 
 One of his young friends proposed to him a partner- 
 ship in a manufacture he had just set up at considera- 
 ble expense, requiring for his share only the exertion 
 of his talents and industry. Henry accepted the offer, 
 and made such good use of the skill in mechanics and 
 chemistry he had acquired, that he introduced many 
 improvements into the manufactory, and rendered it a 
 very profitable concern. He lived prosperous and in 
 dependent, and retained in manhood all the friendship? 
 of his youth. 
 
54 
 
 THE BAT AND THE WEASEL 
 
 A bat, who, by daylight, sees none of the best, 
 By chance popped her head in a sly weasel's 
 
 nest; 
 The weasel, of old, a sworn foe to all mice, 
 Would have eaten the bat, for a mouse, in a 
 
 trice. 
 " How dare you," said she, " stare me full in 
 
 the face, 
 When so long you have sought to annoy my 
 
 whole race? 
 Are you not a vile mouse ? Come, the truth 
 
 quickly tell ; 
 Yes, as I am a weasel, I know it full well." 
 The bat, quite alarmed, said, " Your pardon, 
 
 I pray ; 
 But for once, Mrs. Weasel, you're out of the 
 
 way; 
 Some wicked defamer has given me this name ; 
 The world's great Creator was not, sure, to 
 
 blame ; 
 
THE BAT AND THE WEASEL. 55 
 
 For, thanks to his skill, I a bird up can fly ; 
 All hail to the race who can soar through the 
 
 sky ! " 
 The weasel was pleased with so proper a reason, 
 And gave poor bat leave to fly off for that 
 
 season. 
 A day or two after, the bat, without heed, 
 While flying about, and of eyesight in need, 
 Found herself, with dismay, in another dark 
 
 nest, 
 Which belonged to a weasel : cried this beast, 
 
 " I detest 
 The whole race of birds ; and now this one 
 
 comes here 
 To give me a mouthful ; the case is quite 
 
 clear.'*' 
 " You entirely mistake me, dear ma'am," cried 
 
 the bat ; 
 " I pass for a bird ! Who could e'er fancy that ? 
 What makes a fine bird but fine feathers, be 
 
 sure ; 
 Now I am a mouse ; may the race long endure ! 
 And woe to the cats, — I with them live in 
 
 strife." — 
 Thus twice, by her wit, did the bat save her 
 
 life. 
 
THE PASTRY COOK. 
 
57 
 
 THE RHFMING PASTRY-COOK 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH JOURNAL DES ENFANS. 
 
 About one hundred and eighty-five or six 
 years ago lived a pastry-cook, whose name 
 was Crepo. He was a gentle, useful creature, 
 honest, but singularly fantastical in his speech. 
 This Crepo, though a very indifferent pastry- 
 cook, never spoke except in rhyme : for ex- 
 ample, if he wished to pay a person a com- 
 pliment, he would say, 
 
 " Sir, I salute you without show, 
 And make my manners, signed Crepo." 
 
 This was without common sense, for it is 
 not customary to sign a compliment made by 
 the word of mouth ; but Crepo did not look 
 at matters so closely ; of what consequence 
 was common sense, provided there was plenty 
 of rhyme ? 
 
 But this Crepo, who, by force of habit, had 
 
58 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 succeeded in being able to express himself as 
 easily in wretched verses as another could in 
 prose, had for a neighbor a man named Peter 
 Jaurat, a public writer by trade. Peter Jaurat 
 wrote for all those who did not know how to 
 write : he lent to them his style and his elo- 
 quence, receiving in reward a few cents, in 
 short, Jaurat lived upon the ignorance of 
 others ; and the number of ignorant was not 
 small, among the people, at that period. Thus 
 the shop of the scrivener was never empty. 
 It was filled with laborers — poor fellows who 
 came, some to beg him to write into the prov- 
 inces to their families, others for a petition to 
 some great lord, whose protection they were 
 soliciting; one that he would manufacture a 
 song for the birth-day of his mistress, another 
 wished a few couplets for his approaching 
 marriage. Jaurat accommodated them as well 
 as he was able, and all quitted him enchanted 
 with his talents. 
 
 One day a certain cook went out of Jaurat's 
 shop, not having found him at that moment 
 withm. This cook, perceiving Crepo in his 
 shop, asked if the scrivener would soon come 
 back. 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 59 
 
 " You ask me, good cook, 
 
 When Jaurat, my neighbor, 
 
 . Shall return to his shop, 
 
 And renew his old labor ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the cook. 
 Crepo replied, 
 
 " To whom is this clear ? 
 But I tell you, my dear, 
 Neighbor Peter will come, 
 When Peter Jaurat, 
 Returning from far, 
 In the house of said Peter shall reach his own home." 
 
 It was the first time in her life that the cook 
 had heard such a language spoken. She re- 
 mained mystified before Crepo, who went on 
 talking to her, without any more hesitation 
 than if he had only been saying good morning 
 and good night. In her surprise she opened 
 such great eyes, and such a great mouth, that 
 the pastry-cook, thinking she was hungry, said 
 to her, 
 
 " I have tarts and sweet cakes, 
 
 I have pies hot and cold ; 
 No king's cook better makes 
 
 Than in my shop are sold. 
 For young girls I have crisp cake, 
 
 And sponge cake for all ; 
 
60 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 My sweets give no toothache, 
 
 But are fit for a ball. 
 Pray enter and eat ; I am Crepo, your man, 
 
 And first pastry-cook to the king of Japan." 
 
 The king of Japan happened here to rhyme 
 with man; but the cook, who knew neither 
 what a rhyme was, nor who the king of Japan 
 was, supposed, without scruple, that the pastry- 
 cook supplied some royal table ; and she en- 
 tered his shop. But, alas ! how deceitful were 
 the words of Crepo ! The poor man, led on 
 by his rhyme, had announced a hundred more 
 delicacies than his shop contained : in truth, 
 two or three sponge cakes, old and dry as 
 stones, lay scattered about on the empty shelves. 
 The cook thought that the king of Japan must 
 have eaten up all the last baking, for in vain 
 did she cast her eyes every where, and could 
 discern nothing but the above-mentioned 
 sponge cakes. In his strange manner, Crepo 
 related to her by what a succession of mis- 
 fortunes he found himself the possessor of the 
 establishment of a pastry-cook, without any 
 pastry. 
 
 Crepo was naturally a great bragger ; and 
 verse rendering any recital very prolix, we, 
 ourselves, in plain prose, and as briefly as pos- 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 61 
 
 sible, shall relate how the pastry-cook Crepo 
 came to have no pastry in his shop. 
 
 This misfortune was caused by the rhyming 
 mania of the pastry-cook. His servants, men 
 and women, had quitted him under the pre- 
 tence that he was mad — that they did not 
 understand his music. It was thus that these 
 people spoke of the rhyming phrases of poor 
 Crepo. 
 
 •It may also be admitted that rhyme often 
 drove him to express his orders ill. Thus, if it 
 was necessary to heat the oven in the night, 
 he would say, 
 
 " You must heat the oven, I say, 
 When it is no longer day." 
 
 But, when it is no longer day, meant evening 
 rather than night. This was not to fix the 
 hour. He should have said, You must heat 
 the oven at eight o'clock, or at ten o'clock, 
 or at midnight ; but, 
 
 " You must heat the oven 
 At midnight " 
 
 made neither verse nor rhyme ; and Crepo was 
 the humble servant of both. Thence came 
 orders badly followed — an oven too hot or too 
 cold, pies which were not baked enough, or 
 6 
 
62 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 were over-baked. The customers of Crepo 
 abandoned him by degrees : after the customers 
 went the apprentices. In short, Crepo said, 
 
 " A man will ne'er be wretched while he feels 
 How much one noble verse all pies excels." 
 
 Meantime the cook looked at the rhyming 
 pastry-cook with such a stupid and admiring 
 air, that the worthy Crepo could not prevent 
 a feeling of pride at it ; after which he asked 
 her, still in rhyme, what business she had with 
 his neighbor Peter. 
 
 She answered that, finding herself out of 
 a place for the last three days, she had come 
 to request the scrivener Jaurat to make out a 
 list of the gentlefolks she had served, that 
 she might offer it as a recommendation to any 
 new lady to whom she should present herself. 
 
 In a moment Crepo took a piece of paper, 
 on which he wrote, after gaining some par- 
 ticulars from the cook, 
 
 " The bearer's name is Cathanna ; 
 In the kitchen none outshine her. 
 Clothes she bleaches white as snow, 
 Quick can iron, neatly sew; 
 Thirteen weeks she served with skill 
 A noble duke named Montreville ; 
 Then, of Marquises a dozen ; 
 Next, an opera-dancer's cousin ; 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. , 63 
 
 Then, two judges of the chamber ; 
 
 Next, a learned doctor claimed her ; 
 
 A bishop, then an admiral ; 
 
 Honorable people all. 
 
 These will answer, every soul, 
 
 She served them well, upon the whole." 
 
 Crepo did not think it useful to draw the 
 attention of the cook to certain inequalities in 
 his measure. He only told her that the rhyme 
 had made it necessary for him to place in 
 this certificate the names of several people 
 whose domestic she had never been, but that 
 this sort of thing was excusable in poetry. 
 The cook, whose admiration continued to in- 
 crease, felt in her pocket for something to pay 
 Crepo for his trouble ; but the honest pastry- 
 cook refused her money, under the pretence 
 that he labored for glory, not for fortune. 
 
 The cook quitted him, penetrated with re- 
 spect and gratitude ; and from this day, thanks 
 to the loquacity of Miss Catharina, the customers 
 of Jaurat came to knock at the door of Crepo. 
 The fame of the rhyming pastry-cook spread 
 for a league round. He was employed to write 
 letters in verse, compliments in verse, and 
 petitions in verse, great and small. But un- 
 fortunately, the more customers Crepo had, 
 
64 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 the less money ; the more he wrote rhymes, 
 the less he was able to replenish his wardrobe. 
 His ragged clothes became too large for him ; 
 his purse and his stomach were equally empty ; 
 and for this reason, the cook had told her 
 neighbors, her friends and acquaintances, of 
 her luck, and had advised them to go and get 
 Crepo to write their letters, for he did not 
 want them to pay him. 
 
 Thus every one hastened to Crepo, who 
 fulfilled gratuitously the functions of a pub- 
 lic writer — those functions which Jaurat, 
 on the contrary, exercised to his great pecu- 
 niary advantage. Often, poor Crepo, pressed 
 by want, felt some desire to exact a price for 
 his verses ; but he dared not do so, and no one 
 thought of offering him money which he did 
 not demand ; for had he not proudly told the 
 cook, he labored only for glory? 
 
 It was not without some displeasure that 
 Jaurat saw Crepo devoting himself to the trade 
 of a scrivener. He perceived, however, that 
 the poor man was falling more and more into 
 misery, and that a good number of his old 
 customers were returning to his shop, not al- 
 together satisfied with Crepo, who wrote verses, 
 and wrote for nothing, to be sure, but who, 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 65 
 
 notwithstanding all that, wrote so badly, so 
 very badly, that people were troubled to read 
 his works. Jaurat, as we were saying, per- 
 ceiving that Crepo was not making a fortune 
 by this trade., and that his own shop was be- 
 ginning to be well supplied with customers, 
 manifested his displeasure only by raillery upon 
 Crepo's old trade of pastry-cook. 
 
 To all the jokes of Jaurat, Crepo only op- 
 posed scores of verses ; we will not quote them, 
 they were so wretched. Honest Crepo, who 
 was a very bad poet, upon days when he had a 
 little money in his purse, was a bona fide stupid 
 rhymer on the days when he had not a cent. 
 These days were getting to be more and more 
 common. For food, poor Crepo was obliged 
 to sell his penknife, and Jaurat became the 
 purchaser at a miserable price. In vain Crepo, 
 to soften his fortunate rival, lavished upon him 
 his most beautiful rhymes and his tenderest 
 epithets ; in vain did he address Peter Jaurat 
 as his dear Peterkin ; in vain, by the aid of this 
 infantine and caressing termination, which he 
 added to the baptismal name of the scrivener, 
 did he endeavor to touch his heart with regard 
 to the penknife, of which his extreme misery 
 had compelled him to rob himself; — Jaurat 
 
66 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 remained insensible ; or, rather, he laughed 
 while he was offering three cents for poor Cre- 
 po's penknife. Finally, dear Peterkin paid 
 three cents for his poet neighbor's penknife. 
 
 This being done, Crepo could no longer 
 make his pens, and found it impossible to 
 write, even badly, the few letters and petitions 
 which he was accustomed to rhyme gratui- 
 tously for any poor fellow who came along ; and 
 soon Crepo the scrivener was abandoned by 
 all, as Crepo the pastry-cook had been before. 
 What troubled him most in this business was, 
 not so much that he could no longer write 
 verses, — for there still remained to him the re- 
 source of repeating them, — but that he could 
 no longer render services to those people who 
 had so often had recourse to his poetical tal- 
 ents. He was a brave man, this Crepo, and 
 had a good heart. "And here I am," exclaimed 
 he, with grief, " reduced to the state of not be- 
 ing able to oblige any body." The excess of 
 his grief made him forget, for this once, to 
 make a rhyme to body. Never was a man 
 more desperate. 
 
 Because he could not cut his quills, he sold 
 them ; because he could not blot his paper, he 
 sold it : he kept only his inkstand ; and this 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 67 
 
 because he could not find a purchaser for it. 
 This inkstand was made of horn, and was not 
 worth the hundredth part of a cent. 
 
 In the depth of his misery, Crepo resolved 
 to resume his trade of pastry-cook % He cov- 
 ered his head with a cotton cap, which one of 
 his neighbors deigned to lend him ; he tied be- 
 fore him a miserable cloth apron, which he 
 picked up in a corner ; he turned up his sleeves, 
 as he used to do when kneading his paste ; 
 but he wanted flour, water, wood, and fire ; he 
 wanted every thing : he saw clearly that, he 
 could do nothing about making pastry, and 
 grieved, empty, and famished, he went to bed 
 saying, — 
 
 "With that king of Medina, I am fully content, 
 Who, fasting - , without in his pocket one cent, 
 Said, while covered well in his bed he reclined, 
 ? Go to bed when you're hungry ; ' men sleep when 
 they've dined." 
 
 Meantime Crepo, very little refreshed, slept 
 for an hour, when pains in his stomach awoke 
 him, and he jumped up. The good man then 
 confessed that if sleeping be dining, it is not 
 eating supper ; or if it be supping, it is impossi- 
 ble to sup worse. The pains of hunger made 
 him suffer horribly. 
 
68 
 
 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 It was night — he arose, dressed himself in 
 his rags, and began to reflect. It is not known 
 exactly how long he remained plunged in 
 these reflections ; but we imagine they were 
 not of very long duration. 
 
 The noise of a fiddler made him prick up 
 his ears : he heard the unaccustomed sound of 
 music : soon a gentle little voice cried through 
 his key-hole, " Mossiou scrivano publico, Mos- 
 siou Crepo, open your door." Crepo ran to 
 open it. In the street, on the step of his door, 
 was a child of about 13 or 14 years old : 
 in his hand was a violin, which he employed 
 himself in scraping, at the same time making 
 singular contortions, which almost frightened 
 Crepo. Finally, becoming restored to his usual 
 equanimity, Crepo asked the young stranger, 
 who scarcely discontinued his music, what 
 brought him there at that hour, and what 
 service he could render him. 
 
 The child, in his foreign jargon, half Italian 
 and half French, related to the good man that 
 he was employed in the kitchen of Made- 
 moiselle Montpensier, one of the great ladies of 
 the court ; that he was dying of ennui ; that by 
 chance he had found a bad violin ; that, urged 
 to walk by the beautiful moonlight, (the moon 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 69 
 
 this night was magnificent to behold,) he went 
 into the street with his lucky fiddle ; that, 
 passing through that street, he had seen writ- 
 ten on the ex-pastry-cook's door, Crepo, public 
 writer ; that this had led him to knock at his 
 door, to desire Master Crepo would draw up 
 for him, immediately, in fine copy-hand, a 
 splendid petition, to present to Mademoiselle 
 Montpensier. He wanted to represent to 
 the lady that he did not wish to remain any 
 longer in her kitchen; that he felt himself to 
 be a musician. He did not know how to 
 write French, and added that Crepo would 
 confer on him a signal service, by drawing up 
 for him a sort of petition, in which Mademoi- 
 selle Montpensier should be requested, in the 
 most humble manner, to make a musician of 
 an unworthy scullion. 
 
 Crepo, not without some trouble, at last 
 comprehended what was the matter. "Alas ! " 
 said he to the child, 
 
 " Alas S I, little stranger, 
 Have no paper nor pen, 
 Nor any thing else 
 
 To assist you ; but then 
 It may be that my friend 
 Pen and paper will lend." 
 
70 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 With two jumps Crepo had crossed the 
 street. The child followed him, fiddle in 
 hand. Crepo knocked gently, saying, ' Neigh- 
 bor Jaurat.' 
 
 The door remained shut. 
 
 Crepo knocked louder — " Neighbor Peter !" 
 
 Jaurat did not answer. 
 
 Crepo knocked twice in succession — " My 
 dear Peterkin ! " 
 
 He heard the noise of a door opening. 
 
 " Dear Peterkin! " said he to himself; " this 
 little tender word pleases him ; he is going to 
 unlock ; " — and, in fact, at this moment Jaurat 
 was turning his key. Crepo said to himself, " I 
 will not ask him for paper, because perhaps 
 he will refuse it. Besides, I have at home 
 some paper which is written only on one side ; 
 I will write on the other. [ will not tell him 
 that I have not money enough to buy a candle ; 
 he will see that I am too unfortunate. I will 
 simply tell him, that " — 
 
 The lock turned ; the door was opened ; 
 but at the sight of Crepo, Jaurat shut his door 
 again, very quickly, grumbling with vexation. 
 
 The child and the rhymer Crepo looked at 
 each other in distress. 
 
 Crepo began again to say, " Neighbor Jaurat, 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 71 
 
 neighbor Peter, my dear Peterkin ! " Aftei 
 which, to make a sort of rhyme to Peterkin, 
 he added, 
 
 " O Peterkin, 
 Pray let me in." 
 
 There was a little window cut in the wall 
 just over the door of the barrack in which 
 Jaurat lodged, and suddenly Crepo saw a 
 head emerge from this window, and heard 
 Jaurat's voice asking, "What do you want, 
 pastry-cook ? " 
 
 Crepo replied, 
 
 " An illustrious epistle 
 
 I fain would indite ; 
 But the wind, with a whistle, 
 
 Has blown out my light ; 
 And throughout my whole house, 
 
 Before and behind, 
 To my sorrow, no pen 
 
 And no fire can I find." 
 
 " I believe you," said Jaurat ; " let me go to 
 sleep, and walk off." 
 
 A cloud, which a moment before had ob- 
 scured the moon, ceased to cover her with its 
 veil, and the queen of night shone out with 
 dazzling brilliancy. One would have said that 
 i ^w tyh* bad inspired the poetical genius of 
 
72 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 Crepo ; for he placed himself like an actor, with 
 his right hand raised toward heaven, and said^ 
 with a slow and sad voice, 
 
 " By the light of the moon, 
 
 O Peter, my friend, 
 One word, just to write, 
 
 Your pen, O pray, lend. 
 My candle is dead, 
 
 My fire is no more, 
 And for goodness' sake, neighbor, 
 
 Pray open your door." 
 
 As he finished these words, Crepo, with his 
 left hand, raising the corner of his cotton 
 apron, put it up to his eyes — the good man 
 dried a tear — he wept. 
 
 Jaurat, in mockery, answered him in 
 wretched verses, and bad rhymes — 
 
 " To no pastry-cook 
 Will I open the door, 
 When he ties on the moon 
 In his apron before." 
 
 " What does he mean ? " thought the affright- 
 ed Crepo. " I wear the moon in my apron ! " 
 He did not finish ; for, indeed, in his apron 
 he saw an enormous moon — O horrible ! — 
 that is, he saw there a hole, round as a cheese, 
 a rent of such magnitude, that the moon, in 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 73 
 
 the height of heaven, did not appear either 
 more round or larger. 
 
 Jaurat laughed with all his might at the 
 remembrance of the wicked joke that he had 
 just made upon poor Crepo, who was disposed 
 to defend the honor of his apron, when the 
 child seized the astonished rhymer by the 
 hand, and cried out, 
 
 " Ricominciate the so?ig,Mossiou " — and the 
 child, raising himself on tiptoe, placed the arirc 
 of Crepo in the perpendicular position in 
 which it was just now — then again he con- 
 jured him most earnestly to repeat the words 
 he had said. — "What words, my friend?" 
 asked Crepo. 
 
 " The word De light of de moon" answered 
 the young scullion. 
 
 "By the light of the moon — willingly, if I 
 recollect it," answered Crepo, who could not 
 call back, without some trouble to his memory, 
 the preceding strophe, each verse of which he 
 repeated slowly at the prayer of the stranger. 
 
 As Crepo repeated a verse, the little musi- 
 cian composed a certain air, which he played 
 on his violin. 
 
 When Crepo had repeated all the verses, 
 even to the last line, Pray open the door, the 
 7 
 
74 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 child played alone upon his instrument the air 
 which he had just composed. 
 
 This music made such an impression upon 
 Crepo, upon Jaurat, and upon some of the 
 neighbors who had been drawn to their win- 
 dows by the novelty of the scene, that all, at 
 the same moment, with one accord, began to 
 clap their hands and to sing with all their 
 might the air and the words which have since 
 become so celebrated. 
 
 " Au clair cle la lune," &c. — 
 (By the light of the moon.) 
 
 The little musician accompanied them with 
 his violin. The air and the words being 
 finished, Crepo kept on singing, and the 
 neighbors, at their windows, did not cease to 
 applaud, when the young stranger, shaking 
 with one hand his violin over his head, in sign 
 of joy, slid into the rhyming cook's pocket 
 some small change — " Addio, signor" cried 
 he to Crepo, " addio." 
 
 As he made this farewell, the little stranger 
 ran away as fast as he could. 
 
 The next morning, the same child appeared 
 again at Crepo's shop, and begged him to give 
 him in writing the words of the past night — 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 75 
 
 By the light of the moon. Crepo, without 
 either paper or pen, could not satisfy the 
 young musician ; but the latter, divining the 
 cause of his embarrassment, gave him a purse 
 containing some pieces of silver. Crepo, happy 
 with this treasure, ran quickly to buy paper, 
 pen, ink, and even a penknife. A few mo- 
 ments after, he returned, and leaning on his 
 window-frame, for want of a writing-table, he 
 transcribed the verses, repeating each in a loud 
 tone. 
 
 As he repeated them, he could not help 
 singing the air which the young musician had 
 composed to his rhymes the night before. 
 Jaurat, hearing what was going on, went out 
 of his shop, and entering Crepo's shop, said to 
 the stranger, "Sir, should you like also the 
 couplet that I made in answer to my friend — 
 
 ' To no pastry-cook 
 
 Shall I open my door,' &c. ? " 
 
 " No, no," said the Italian, with a little ges- 
 ture of displeasure, "no, no, I do not ivant the 
 riposta." 
 
 Crepo was triumphant. "Brave little fel- 
 low," said he, " he does not want the riposta." 
 
 Crepo gave therefore to the musician only 
 
76 THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 
 
 his own rhymes. For this reason this brutal 
 answer of Jaurat, 
 
 " To no pastry-cook 
 
 Will I open the door," &c. 
 
 is known to very few people. They would 
 have perhaps remained in the most profound 
 forgetfulness, if some of the neighbors, who had 
 heard them, had not taken care to repeat them 
 the next day to their friends, who repeated them 
 to their friends in town, who, having become 
 our grandfathers, told it to ourselves in infancy. 
 A month had not elapsed after this adven- 
 ture, when a young court page entered Crepo's 
 shop, humming, 
 
 " By the light of the moon," &c. 
 
 This young page was no other than the 
 scullion musician ; his clothes were all trimmed 
 up with gold. Crepo knew him immediately, 
 and asked him with great interest the cause 
 of his change of fortune. The young page 
 jumped into his arms, and embraced him, 
 the astonished Crepo, that excellent man, 
 who wept with joy in listening, while the page 
 related how every day he played, in the kitch- 
 en, the air which he made to the old rhymer's 
 verses ; that this air and these words were 
 
THE RHYMING PASTRY-COOK. 77 
 
 repeated in chorus by all the cooks from the 
 highest to the lowest ; that the ears of Made- 
 moiselle Montpensier had been agreeably 
 tickled by this music ; and that, finally, the 
 great lady, having paid attention to the scullion 
 musician, he had been made a page ; and this 
 page had come to thank the scrivener, pastry- 
 cook, Crepo, the first source of his fortune. 
 
 From this day the page and the pastry-cook 
 continued to see each other, like two friends. 
 Afterwards, Crepo, enriched by the gratitude 
 of the little musician, quitted his shop ; but 
 they say he never left off rhyming ; and we 
 are assured that the little musician became a 
 great man ; that the little scullion was the 
 celebrated Lulli, whose magnificent operas 
 are still sometimes played, though by far too 
 seldom. 
 
 7* 
 
78 
 
 RUSSIAN NAMES. 
 
 Bonaparte he would set out 
 
 For a summer excursion to Moscow ; 
 
 The fields were green, and the sky was blue 
 
 Morbleu, Parbleu ! 
 
 What a pleasant excursion to Moscow ! 
 
 Four hundred thousand men and more ; 
 
 Heigh-ho for Moscow ! 
 
 There were marshals a dozen, and dukes a 
 
 score. 
 Morbleu, Parbleu ! 
 What a pleasant excursion to Moscow I 
 
 There was Junot, and Augereau ; 
 
 Heigh-ho for Moscow ! 
 
 Dombrowsky, and Poniatowsky, 
 
 General Rapp, and Emperor Nap : 
 
 Nothing would do, 
 
 While the fields were so green, and sky so blue, 
 
 Morbleu, Parbleu ! 
 
 But they must be marching to Moscow. 
 
RUSSIAN NAMES. 79 
 
 But then the Russians they turned to, 
 
 All on the road to Moscow ; 
 
 Nap had to fight his way all through : 
 
 They could fight, but they could not parlez- 
 
 vous : 
 But the fields were green, and the sky was blue ; 
 Morbleu, Parbleu ! 
 And so he got to Moscow. 
 
 They made the place too hot for him ; 
 
 For they set fire to Moscow. 
 
 To get there had cost him much ado, 
 
 And then no better course he knew, 
 
 While the fields were green, and the skies were 
 
 blue, 
 Morbleu, Parbleu ! 
 Than to march back again from Moscow. 
 
 The Russians they stuck close to him, 
 All on the road from Moscow. 
 There was Tormazow, and Jermalow, 
 And all the others that end in ow ; 
 Rajesky, and Noveresky, 
 And all the others that end in esky ; 
 SchamscefF, Souchaneff, and Schepeleff, 
 And all the others that end in eff; 
 
80 RUSSIAN NAMES. 
 
 Wasitschikoff, Kostomaroff, and Tchoglokoff, 
 And all the others that end in off; 
 Milaradovitch, and Jaladovitch, and Karatcho- 
 
 witch, 
 And all the others that end in itch ; 
 Oscharoffsky, Kostoffsky, and Kazatichoffsky, 
 And all the others that end in offsky. 
 
 And last of all an admiral came,* 
 
 A terrible man, with a terrible name — 
 
 A name which, you all must know very well, 
 
 Nobody can speak, and nobody can spell ; 
 
 And Platoff, he played them off ; 
 
 And Markoff, he marked them off; 
 
 And Touchoff, he touched them off; 
 
 And Kutusoff, he cut them off; 
 
 And Woronzoff, he worried them off; 
 
 And Dochtoroff, he doctored them off; 
 
 And Rodinoff, he flogged them off. 
 
 They stuck close to him with all their might ; 
 
 They were on the left, and on the right. 
 
 Nap would rather parlez-vous than fight ; 
 
 But parlez-vous no more would do, 
 
 Morbleu, Parbleu ! 
 
 For they remembered Moscow. 
 
 * Tschigoff. 
 
RUSSIAN NAMES. 
 
 81 
 
 And then came on the frost and snow, 
 
 All on the road to Moscow. 
 
 The Emperor Nap found, as he went, 
 
 He was not quite omnipotent. 
 
 And worse and worse the weather grew ; 
 
 The fields were so white, and the sky so blue 
 
 What a terrible journey from Moscow ! 
 
 Southey 
 
82 
 
 THE BOY AND THE EAGLE, 
 
 Boy. 
 Eagle, eagle, who soarest high, 
 With broad-spread wing, and sharp, bright 
 
 eye,— 
 Eagle, eagle, I pray you tell, 
 Where is the nest, where your young ones 
 
 dwell 
 
 Eagle. 
 
 High on a cliff, advanced and bold, 
 Exposed to the north wind, strong and cold, 
 With labor and care my nest I build, 
 And guard it when with my young 'tis filled 
 
 Boy. 
 
 In your far-off nest, the wild cliffs among, 
 Where find you food to nourish your young ? 
 The cliff is so high, and the rock is so bare, 
 No bird nor beast would venture there. 
 
the boy and the eagle. 83 
 
 Eagle. 
 My eye is keen, and my scent is strong, 
 And my prey I spy, as I float along 
 On my broad-spread wing, through the clear 
 
 blue air ; • 
 
 And I seize the young lamb, or the timid 
 
 hare, 
 And away to my nest my prey I bear ; 
 And a store I keep for my young ones there 
 I must own my big nest is not very clean ; 
 But with rubbish and bones all full it is seen. 
 
 Boy. 
 
 O mighty eagle, with bright, bright eye, 
 Who canst see so far and soar so high, 
 Year after year dost thou. still live on, 
 Or closes thy life when the season is done ? 
 
 Eagle. 
 O boy, scarce ten years have passed away 
 Since thy eyes were opened to see the day ; 
 But seven times ten years may come and be 
 
 told, 
 And the stout, strong eagle will not grow old 
 
84 
 
 THE BOY AND THE EAGLE 
 
 Boy. 
 Well, old brown eagle, I bid you good by ; 
 Fly off to your nest so lonely and high ; 
 Though near its lone circle I care not to come, 
 Yet there are your young ones, and dear is 
 your home. 
 
86 
 
 EMMA. 
 
 [A STORY FROM THE FRENCH.] 
 
 Emma had always been a very happy little 
 girl. She was very much beloved, not only 
 by her parents, but all the rest of the family ; 
 and even strangers, who came to visit her 
 father and mother, were pleased with her sweet 
 temper and obliging manners. No one spoke 
 of her but to praise her, and there never was 
 a word said about her which could have given 
 her pain. 
 
 Emma was enjoying all the happiness which 
 might be expected from such a sweet temper, 
 when a great misfortune happened to her. 
 Her father and mother were taken very sick. 
 Their beds were both placed in one room, and 
 were only separated by the chair of Emma, 
 who passed the whole day in attendance upon 
 them. It was surprising how much she, al- 
 though quite young, was able to assist the 
 
EMMA. 87 
 
 nurse who had the care of them. These atten 
 tions from their little daughter did a great deal 
 to enable them to bear their sickness, and 
 made it seem much less tedious to them. At 
 last they recovered ; but her father still re- 
 mained somewhat lame, and her mother's eyes 
 had become so much weakened by her long 
 sickness, that though she was not quite blind, 
 she could hardly distinguish objects. Emma 
 was sadly grieved to see her father and mother 
 suffer so much ; but she did all she could to 
 appear calm in their presence, that she might 
 not make them feel sad. She never was tired 
 when she could render them any little service. 
 " Come, papa," she would say, " a little turn 
 about the chamber will do you good. Lean 
 upon my shoulder, and do not be afraid of 
 hurting me. When I was very little, and could 
 not walk alone, you were so good as to carry 
 me : it is now my turn to support you." She 
 would say to her mother, " Let me wait upon 
 you, mamma, and hand you every thing you 
 want. When I could not do any thing for my- 
 self, you used to feed me with your own hand. 
 Now there is nothing I love so well, as to run 
 of errands for you, to read amusing books to 
 you, to sew for vou ; and I hope soon to be 
 
88 
 
 EMMA. 
 
 able to make all your dresses for you : you 
 shall wear nothing but of my making." 
 
 How different was this from the habit 
 I have seen some children indulge, of being 
 out of humor if they are asked to do any little 
 errand for their father or mother ! They can- 
 not think, as Emma did, of how much their 
 parents had done for them, before they were 
 able to do any thing for themselves. 
 
 When Emma grew up to be old enough, she 
 was married to a very good man, who loved her 
 parents tenderly, and did all he could to assist 
 her in comforting and amusing them. 
 
 When she had children of her own, she 
 brought them to see her father and mother 
 very often, and their prattling and sports were 
 a great pleasure to their grandparents. These 
 children grew up to be as good as their mother, 
 by receiving her lessons, and profiting by her 
 example ; so that, when she became old, and 
 unable to move about quickly, or see clearly, 
 they took great pains to do every thing to 
 make her age pass happily, as she had don© 
 for her parents. 
 
BOYS AND KITE. 
 
90 
 
 THE KITE. 
 
 James and William went to take a walk. 
 They had made themselves a noble kite. 
 They had a grand large ball of twine ; and 
 when they reached a good place, they made 
 all their preparations to fly it. James mount- 
 ed a little mound, and William waited until 
 there came a good breeze, when he ran for- 
 ward, returned, stopped, pulled the twine ; and 
 at last up it went to a very great height. 
 Then they sent up a messenger, a little round 
 card slipped on the twine, which ran up the 
 string till it reached the kite. At last it was 
 lost in the air. Suddenly a current of wind 
 seized it ; it whirled about ; a light rain had 
 wet it ; it fell at their feet all in pieces. " I 
 bet," said James, " that it has cracked open 
 a cloud." " No," said his father ; " it has 
 mounted too high, and has ruined itself. So 
 take care, boys : wherever chance or your own 
 wits place you, keep, if you can, in the mid- 
 dle, between too high and too low." 
 
91 
 
 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM 
 
 Brighter than the rising day, 
 
 When the sun of glory shines ; 
 Brighter than the diamond's ray, 
 
 Sparkling in Golconda's mines ; 
 Beaming through the clouds of woe, 
 
 Smiles in Mercy's diadem 
 On the guilty world below, 
 
 The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 When our eyes are dimmed with tears, 
 
 This can light them up again, 
 Sweet as music to our ears, 
 
 Faintly warbling o'er the plain. 
 Never shines a ray so bright 
 
 From the purest earthly gem ; 
 O ! there is no soothing light 
 
 Like the Star of Bethlehem. 
 
 Grief's dark clouds may o'er us roll, 
 Every heart may sink in woe, 
 
92 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Gloomy conscience rack the soul, 
 And sorrow's tears in torrents flow ; 
 
 Still, through all these clouds and storms, 
 Shines this pure, this heavenly gem, 
 
 With a ray that kindly warms — 
 The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 When we cross the roaring wave 
 
 That rolls on life's remotest shore , 
 When we look into the grave, 
 
 And wander through this world no more ; 
 This, the lamp whose genial ray, 
 
 Like some brightly-glowing gem, 
 Points to man his darkling way — 
 
 The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 Let tne world be sunk in sorrow, 
 
 Not an eye be charmed or blessed ; 
 We can see a fair to-morrow 
 
 Smiling in the rosy west ; 
 This, her beacon, Hope displays ; 
 
 For in Mercy's diadem 
 Shines, with Faith's serenest rays, 
 
 The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 When this gloomy life is o'er, 
 When we smile in bliss above, 
 
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 93 
 
 When, on that delightful shore, 
 We enjoy the heaven of love, — 
 
 O ! what dazzling light shall shine 
 Round salvation's purest gem ! 
 
 O, what rays of love divine 
 Gild the Star of Bethlehem ! 
 
94 
 
 THE PARTS OF SPEECH. 
 
 Interjection. 
 The sounds which little children make, 
 When first they find themselves awake 
 
 Are always interjections ; 
 Oh ! Ah ! or Ma ! is all they say ; 
 But these, when they begin to play, 
 
 Oft meet with some rejections. 
 
 Noun. 
 They next begin to name their friend, 
 And things and places ; all which tend 
 
 To tell of mighty noun. 
 Great stores of fancies it may bring ; 
 A noun — it may be any thing, 
 
 A person or a town. 
 
 Adjective. 
 To adjectives great thanks we owe ; 
 The qualities of nouns they show, 
 And their degrees compare ; 
 
THE PARTS OF SPEECH. 95 
 
 By them you may express your mind, 
 Say good or bad, as you're inclined ; 
 Or witty 9 wise, ox fair. 
 
 Verb. 
 And now, we see, they soon discern 
 The different kinds of verbs to learn — 
 
 The active, passive, neuter. 
 To speak, to think, to love, to run, 
 Are verbs, as well as what is done 
 
 At present and in future. 
 
 Pronoun. 
 And when they speak of Frank and Tom, 
 And wish, though these are names not long 
 
 To avoid a repetition, 
 The pronoun he will do instead ; 
 Or, if it is a thing they need, 
 
 It stands in requisition. 
 
 Conjunction. 
 Conjunction is a kind of thing, 
 Which, like a piece of silk or string, 
 
 Ties sentences together ; 
 Thus, James and John are very good, 
 And they shall go to Primrose Wood, 
 
 If it be pleasant weather. 
 
96 the parts of speech. 
 
 Preposition. 
 A preposition serves to show 
 Relation between things, you know. 
 
 If in, or by, or near, 
 You before noun or pronoun place, 
 Its meaning you distinctly trace, 
 
 And make the sentence clear 
 
 Adverb. 
 Some words are of another kind, 
 To help you to express your mind, 
 
 And often end in ly. 
 To adjectives they lend their aid — 
 Adverb's the name — don't be afraid ; 
 
 You'll learn it if you try. 
 
 Article. 
 Last come the little particles 
 Grammarians call the articles ; 
 
 They're only the and a. 
 Now, Frank, if you will learn this rhyme, 
 I shall not have misspent my time ; 
 
 Then you may go and play. 
 
97 
 
98 
 
 THE SKY-LARK 
 
 Two little birds, before they were strong 
 enough to fly, one day climbed up the side of 
 the nest, and were playing there together, when 
 they jostled against each other, and both fell 
 over on the grass. The nest was built at no 
 great distance from the ground, but they were 
 little weak creatures, and did not know what 
 to do to get themselves back into their nest 
 again. The father and mother of the little 
 birds had gone away to get food for them, and 
 there was no one near to help them home. 
 They scrambled about, as well as they could, 
 but only got farther and farther from the place 
 in which they wished to be. 
 
 While they were in this trouble, a little boy 
 came along with his mother : he saw the little 
 birds, and said, " O, mamma, I want these little* 
 birds very much ; may I pick them up ? " " Yes, 
 my dear Charles," said she ; " though I think 
 it is very cruel to take little birds out of their 
 
THE SKY-LARK. 99 
 
 nests, and carry them away from their mother, 
 yet, as I do not see the nest where these poor 
 little creatures belong, and as they are in danger 
 of being trodden upon if they remain on the 
 ground here, I am willing that you should take 
 them and carry them home, if you will prom- 
 ise me to take good care of them." Charles 
 promised to take all the care he could of them. 
 He kept his word ; he ran towards the little 
 birds, picked them up very carefully, that he 
 might not hurt them, and walked gayly home 
 with his little family. 
 
 When he reached his room, he put his two 
 birds into a cage, made them a little nest in 
 one corner as well as he could, and offered 
 them, on the end of a tooth-pick, crumbs of 
 bread soaked very soft, and pounded seeds. 
 The little birds liked this treatment very well. 
 Charles was much pleased with feeding them ; 
 and one of the birds, having no one to tell 
 him when he had eaten enough, kept eating 
 and eating, until, either from the great quan- 
 tity he swallowed, or the injury he received in 
 tumbling out of the nest, he died. 
 
 Charles was very sorry to lose his little play- 
 thing ; but he was very careful not to feed the 
 other bird too much, and he had soon the pleas- 
 
100 
 
 THE SKY-LARK. 
 
 ure to see the little fellow grow finely, beeoine 
 covered with feathers, and able to feed himself. 
 
 You wish to know, I dare say, what sort of 
 bird this was. I do not mean to keep it a 
 secret, as you may judge if you look back to 
 the picture at the beginning of the story. It 
 was a sky-lark, and I do not believe you ever 
 saw a more amiable little fellow of his kind. 
 He seemed fond of little Charles, would come 
 near the side of the cage when he was looking 
 at it ; and if Charles opened the door of the 
 cage, he would hop on his hand or his shoulder, 
 and show him that he loved and trusted him ; 
 in fact, he did every thing to please his friend 
 which a little bird could do, except one ; — 
 he did not sing well ; the sad noise he made 
 was not at all pleasing. 
 
 Charles said one day to his mother, " Mamma, 
 what do you think is the reason my little bird 
 will not sing any better ? I thought larks were 
 the finest singers in the world. Do you think 
 it is because he has not had any one to give 
 him his music lessons, since he was forced, 
 poor fellow, to leave his mother so early ? " 
 
 " It may be so, my dear ; but I do not know 
 much about this kind of bird. What if you 
 should run into the library, and bring me the 
 
THE SKY-LARK. 101 
 
 volume of Buffon which tells about birds ? Per- 
 haps he will give us some information about it." 
 
 Charles went and brought the book, as his 
 mother desired him. She looked for the ac- 
 count of the lark, and read to him this 
 sentence : — 
 
 " Their music in confinement is much infe- 
 rior to what it is when they are at liberty. 
 The music, indeed, of any bird in captivity, 
 creates no pleasing sensations ; it is but the 
 mirth of a little animal insensible of its un- 
 fortunate situation ; it is the landscape, the 
 grove, the golden break of day, the contest 
 on the hawthorn, the fluttering from branch to 
 branch, the soaring in the air, and the answering 
 of its young, that gives the bird's song its true 
 relish." 
 
 Charles looked at his mother, without speak- 
 ing, for a moment after she had done reading. 
 He then drew a long breath, and said, " I do 
 not understand, exactly, all the words in the 
 sentence you have just read to me, but I think 
 I know what Mr. Buffon means. I believe he 
 means that my bird does not love to be shut 
 up in the cage, and that he cannot sing there. 
 So, if you think I am right, I will take the 
 little fellow out to-morrow morning as soon as 
 
102 THE SKY-LARK. 
 
 I am up, which will be soon after the sun is, 
 and then I will stand upon the old stump in 
 the meadow, and let my hand remain open, 
 and see what he will do." 
 
 His mother told him he was a good little boy, 
 to give up so willingly the pleasure he had in 
 watching the little bird, when he found that 
 the little bird was not so happy as he would 
 be in the open air. 
 
 The next morning Charles did as he had 
 promised his mother. The bird fluttered for a 
 few moments on his hand, as if to try the 
 strength of his wings, and then soared up to 
 a very great height in the clear blue sky, and, 
 as he went, poured forth such a song of glad- 
 ness and melody, that the little boy felt that 
 his little friend needed no music-teacher but the 
 fresh morning air, and the feeling of freedom. 
 
 When he returned home, and met his 
 mother at breakfast, he told her what he had 
 done, and said, " I believe my little lark felt 
 as happy as I do, when I have done my lesson, 
 and you say to me, { Now take a good run, 
 Charles ' " 
 
104 
 
 THE BATTLE OF CONCORD 
 
 On the 18th of April, 1775, General Gage, 
 the commanaer of the British troops, despatch- 
 ed a body of eight or nine hundred soldiers 
 to destroy the military stores which had been 
 collected at Concord, a town about eighteen 
 miles from Boston. Having reached Lexing- 
 ton, six miles distant from Concord, they were 
 met by a company of militia, who had hastily 
 assembled from the different villages on the 
 first alarm. It was about sunrise. The Brit- 
 ish advanced at quick march to within a few 
 rods, when Major Pitcairn called out in a loud 
 voice, " Disperse, you rebels ; throw down your 
 arms, and disperse." 
 
 Their number was too small to risk a battle. 
 While they were dispersing, the British shouted, 
 and, by a discharge from their ranks, killed 
 and wounded several men. They then re- 
 newed their march to Concord, where they de- 
 stroyed a few articles of military stores, and 
 
THE BATTLE OF CONCORD. 105 
 
 sixty barrels of flour. The militia-men had 
 now collected in considerable numbers. Being 
 enraged at the loss of their companions, they 
 made a bold and furious attack on the enemy, 
 and drove them back to Lexington. Hearing 
 of the situation of his troops, General Gage 
 sent a large number of men, with two field- 
 pieces, to their assistance. The united forces 
 amounted to about eighteen hundred men. 
 
 In their retreat, the regular troops were 
 pursued with the utmost activity. From the 
 cover of trees and stone walls, the farmers 
 were able to kill many of the king's troops. 
 Their situation through the day was very 
 hazardous, and it is wonderful that so many 
 escaped. They reached Charlestown about 
 seven in the evening, much fatigued, with the 
 loss of two hundred and seventy-three killed, 
 wounded, and taken prisoners. The next day 
 they entered Boston. 
 
107 
 
 CHURCH OF THE HOLY 
 SEPULCHRE. 
 
 After our Savior was crucified, a good man, 
 named Joseph, sent to Pilate, the Roman gov- 
 ernor, and begged the body of Jesus, that he 
 might lay it in his own new tomb. It was in a 
 garden. The tomb had been hewn out of the 
 rock, and no man had ever been lain in it. A 
 stone was rolled to close the mouth of the sepul 
 chre. A guard was placed by the Roman gov- 
 ernor, to see that his disciples did not come 
 by night and steal him away ; and Mary, his 
 mother, sat over the sepulchre watching it. 
 
 On the third day after his burial, the stone 
 was rolled away from the door of the sepulchre ; 
 he came forth alive, and appeared to Mary and 
 to his disciples. He talked with them, and ate 
 with them, and showed them that it was neces- 
 sary that Christ should suffer, and after that 
 he should rise from the dead. After many days, 
 he ascended to heaven, to his Father and our 
 Father, to his God and our God. 
 
108 CHURCH OF THE HOLTt SEPULCHRE. 
 
 This was to teach us that, when we die, if 
 we believe in Jesus and do as he taught us, 
 we shall not remain in the grave, but be raised 
 up, even as he was raised up. And when our 
 friends die, and we lay their bodies in the 
 grave, we can feel that their spirits have gone 
 with Jesus to the presence of their Father in 
 heaven, where we may hope to meet them. 
 
 For some time after the ascension of Jesus, 
 the number of those who believed in him, and 
 who probably loved to go and visit the place 
 where he was laid, was small ; but in process 
 of time, the word of God grew and prevailed, 
 and spread over a considerable part of the 
 world. Then people used to go from different 
 countries to see the place where Jesus lay ; 
 and at last a church was built as near as pos- 
 sible to the place where he was buried, called 
 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 The original church was said to have been 
 built by the Empress Helena, a Christian prin- 
 cess ; but this was destroyed by fire. It was 
 rebuilt partly by members of the Roman, and 
 partly by those of the Greek church. This 
 church is now standing, and the picture op- 
 posite represents the inside of it, as it is de- 
 scribed by modern travellers. 
 
4 •