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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/21278-h.zip b/21278-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c62a79 --- /dev/null +++ b/21278-h.zip diff --git a/21278-h/21278-h.htm b/21278-h/21278-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a6f5ad --- /dev/null +++ b/21278-h/21278-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1430 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Old Castle and Other Stories, by Anonymous + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + a[name] { position:absolute; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; background-color:#FFFFFF; + text-decoration:none; } + a:visited {color:#0000ff; background-color:#FFFFFF; + text-decoration:none; } + a:hover { color:#ff0000; background-color:#FFFFFF; } + + table { width:60%; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + + .tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style:normal; + } /* page numbers */ + + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + .caption {font-weight: bold; + font-size: smaller; + } + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + 0.25em; margin-right: 0.25em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Castle and Other Stories, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Old Castle and Other Stories + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: May 2, 2007 [EBook #21278] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD CASTLE AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sankar Viswanathan, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works in the International Children's Digital +Library.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" width="500" height="806" /></div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_01.jpg" width="500" height="770" +alt="THE LONELY COTTAGE" /> +<span class="caption">THE LONELY COTTAGE<br /> +<a href="#Page_53">page 53</a></span> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE OLD CASTLE.</h1> + +<h4>AND</h4> + +<h2>Other Stories.</h2> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/image_02.jpg" width="200" height="80" alt="Seal" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>LONDON: THOMAS NELSON AND SONS.</h3> + +<h3>EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.</h3> + +<h3>1881.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Contents.</h2> + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_OLD_CASTLE">THE OLD CASTLE,</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#GEORGE_AND_ALICK">GEORGE AND ALICK,</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_SIXPENNY_CALICO">THE SIXPENNY CALICO,</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_WESTMORELAND_STORY">A WESTMORELAND STORY,</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_OLD_CASTLE" id="THE_OLD_CASTLE"></a>THE OLD CASTLE.</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_06.jpg" alt="H" width="50" height="49" /></div> +<p>ow pleasant the parlour looked on the evening of "Flaxy's" birthday. +To be sure it was November, and the wind was setting the poor dying +leaves in a miserable shiver with some dreadful story of an iceberg he +had just been visiting. But what cared Dicky and Prue, or Dudley and +Flaxy, or all the rest sitting cosily around that charming fire, which +glowed as if some kind fairy had filled up the little black grate with +carbuncles and rubies? Over the mantle-piece were branches of pretty +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>white sperm candles, whose light fell softly on the heavy red +curtains and the roses in the carpet, and danced in the eyes of the +happy children.</p> + +<p>They, the children, had been having a "splendid time." They had played +games, and put together dissected maps, and tried puzzles, and read in +Flaxy's wonderful books; and since tea they had had a grand romp at +"fox and geese," even such big boys as Bernard and Dudley joining in; +and now they were resting with pretty red cheeks and parted mouths.</p> + +<p>"Well, what shall we do now?" cried little Prue, who could not bear +that a minute of the precious time should be wasted in mere sitting +still.</p> + +<p>"Why, isn't it a good time for some one else to tell his story?" asked +Flaxy.</p> + +<p>"Just the thing," was the unanimous response. "Another story! a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>story!" and then a voice cried, "And let Dudley Wylde tell it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Dudley, slowly, "if I must tell a <i>true</i> story about +<i>myself</i>, I'm afraid it won't be much to my credit, but as Flaxy +wasn't a coward about it, I'll try to be as brave as a <i>girl</i>. Shall I +tell you something that happened to Bernard and me when we lived over +in England?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't tell that story, Dud," pleaded Bernard with +reddening cheeks, but all the rest cried, "Oh, yes, go on, go on," and +Dudley began.</p> + +<p>"You all know that Bernard and I were both left orphans when we were +almost little babies, and Uncle Wylde sent for us to come and live +with him—me first, and Bernard about a year afterwards. I was only +six years old when Bernard came, but I remember I was very angry about +it. Old Joe, the coachman, and I, had had a quarrel that morning, and +he told me uncle 'would never care for me any more after Cousin +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>Bernard came, for he was a much finer boy than I, and looked like a +young English lord, with his blue eyes and white skin, but <i>I</i> was a +little, dark, ill-tempered foreigner (my mother was Italian, you +know), and he wondered how uncle could like me at all.'"</p> + +<p>"But uncle did love you dearly, you know," broke in Bernard.</p> + +<p>"A great deal better than I deserved, that's certain," said Dudley, +"but I almost worshipped <i>him</i>, and I couldn't bear the thoughts of +his loving any one better than me. So all the day that Bernard was +expected I stood sulkily by the window, and would not play, nor eat, +nor even speak when Uncle Wylde came and took me in his lap.</p> + +<p>"'Poor child,' said uncle, at last, 'he needs some one of his own age +to play with. I hope the little cousins will be fine company for each +other.'</p> + +<p>"Just then the carriage drove up, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> uncle ran out and took such a +lovely little boy in his arms; but when I heard him say, almost with a +sob, 'Darling child, you are just the image of your dear, dear +mother,' then I thought, 'There, it is all true what Joe said, uncle +loves him the best already;' and I bit my fingers so that when uncle +bade me hold out my hand to my cousin, he was frightened to see it +covered with blood, and drew back with a shiver; and then I grew angry +about that, too, and called him '<i>proud</i>,' and went and hid away every +plaything I could find.</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't have time to tell you every little thing, only that as +Bernard and I grew up together, I did not love him any better. He was +almost always kind and good."</p> + +<p>"Now Dud, you must not say so," said Bernard, blushing. "I did +everything to tease you."</p> + +<p>"You must not interrupt," cried Dudley.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> "This is <i>my</i> story, +remember. You never teased me much, but the great thing I couldn't +forgive you was that uncle loved you best."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm sure he didn't," cried Bernard.</p> + +<p>"No more interruptions," said all the children, and Dudley went on.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see I was very suspicious and miserable, and I always +thought Bernard wanted to make fun of me. When he first began to call +me 'Dud,' for <i>short</i>, I thought he meant that I was like the old rags +that Joe used to clean the carriages with, for he always used to call +them 'old duds.' And then sometimes when I came in from riding on +Lightfoot's bare back, with my hair blown every sort of a way, if he +said, 'Shall we have our lessons now, uncle? here comes <i>Wylde</i>,' I +always thought he was trying to make uncle think I was <i>wild</i> like +those horrid Indians we used to read about, while he, Bernard, was +always neat and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> smooth like a little gentleman. So you see there was +nothing that Bernard could do or say, that I did not twist around to +make myself miserable.</p> + +<p>"One day, when I had been playing with my dog Sambo half the morning, +and riding Lightfoot the rest of the time, I was called on to recite +Latin to uncle, and didn't know one word. But Bernard recited like a +book, and when it was over, uncle did not scold me, he never did, but +just gave Bernard the pretty picture I had long been wanting, of the +boy climbing up over crag and ice, shouting 'Excelsior.'</p> + +<p>"That very afternoon we had planned to take a walk together to an old +ruined castle, but I was so cross and sullen I wonder Bernard did not +slip away and go alone. I can't begin to tell you how envious and +unhappy I felt, and I quarrelled so with him about every little thing, +that at last he scarcely opened his mouth."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> +<p>"I don't believe this story is true," said Flaxy indignantly. "I'm +sure the Dudley Wylde <i>we</i> know was never so bad and quarrelsome."</p> + +<p>Dudley smiled, while Bettine whispered softly, "But he's different +<i>now</i>, Flaxy. Do you know his uncle says he is trying to be a +<i>Christian</i>?"</p> + +<p>Flaxy looked up with a bright tear of sympathy, as Dudley continued.</p> + +<p>"At last we reached the castle, where we had often been before, and +for a while I was more good-natured, for there was nothing I liked +better than climbing up and down the broken stairway, which wound +round and round like a great screw, or looking into every queer little +room hid away in the thick walls, or climbing to the turrets to wave +my handkerchief like the flag of a conquering hero.</p> + +<p>"But this afternoon there was something new to see. In the great hall +just under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>the stairs, the floor had lately caved away, and you could +see down into a deep vault. Bernard and I lay down with our faces just +over the edge, and tried to see the bottom, but it was dark as pitch, +and we couldn't make out anything.</p> + +<p>"'I shouldn't wonder if they buried dead people there, a great while +ago,' said Bernard, with a little shiver; and when we both got up, +feeling very sober, he said, just to raise our spirits,—</p> + +<p>"'Let's have a race up the steps, and see which will get to the roof +first.'</p> + +<p>"Off we started. I could generally climb like a wild cat, but in some +way I stumbled and hurt my knee, and Bernard gained very fast. I felt +my quick temper rising again. 'Shall he beat me in everything?' I said +to myself, and with a great spring I caught up to him, and seized his +jacket. Then began a struggle. Bernard cried 'Fair play,' and tried to +throw me off; but I was very angry, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>and strong as a young tiger, and +all of a sudden—for I didn't know what I was about—I just flung him +with all my might right over the edge, where the railing was half +broken down!"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! oh dear!" cried little Prue, bursting into tears, "did it +<i>kill</i> him?"</p> + +<p>A merry laugh from Bernard, followed by a hearty chorus from the rest, +restored bewildered little Prue to her senses. But Dudley went on very +soberly.</p> + +<p>"Bernard screamed as he went over, and with that scream all my anger +died in a minute, and I sat down on the stairs, shaking from head to +foot. Then I listened, but I didn't hear a sound. I don't know how +long I sat there, but at last I got up very slowly, and began to come +down just like an old man. It was so dreadfully still in the old +castle, that I felt in a queer way, as if <i>I</i> must be very careful, +too, and I stepped on my tip-toes, and held my breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> When I got to +the foot, I felt as if a big hand held my heart tight, and when I +tried to walk towards the spot where I thought Bernard must have +fallen, I could not move a step. But after a great while—it seemed +like a year—I managed to drag myself to the place, and, do you know, +no one was there!"</p> + +<p>"Why, where <i>could</i> he be?" cried the astonished children.</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought he might have fallen, and rolled off under the stairs +into that dreadful vault."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't have him get in <i>there</i>, please," cried tender little Prue.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Dudley slowly, "I leaned over the vault, and called his +name, 'Bernard! Bernard!' and then I jumped back, and almost screamed, +for I thought some other boy had spoken. I did not know my own voice; +it sounded so strange and solemn. But no one answered, and I dragged +myself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> away, feeling as if that awful hand grew tighter on my heart, +and thinking, as I went out of the door, how two of us went in, and +<i>why</i> I was coming out <i>alone</i>. Then I sat down on the grass, and +though it was warm summer weather, I shivered from head to foot, and +<i>I</i> remember thinking to myself, 'This queer boy sitting here isn't +Dudley Wylde—this boy <i>couldn't</i> get angry, he's as cold as an +icicle—and Dudley Wylde's heart used to beat, beat, oh! so lively and +quick, but <i>this</i> boy's heart is under a great weight, and will never +stir again—this boy will never run again, nor laugh, nor care for +anything—this boy isn't, he <i>can't</i> be Dudley Wylde;' and I felt so +sorry for him I almost cried. Then, all of a sudden, I remember, I +began to work very hard. I picked up stones out of the path, and +carried them a great way off, and worked till I was just ready to +drop. Then I took some flowers, and picked them all to pieces—so +curious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> to see how they were put together, and I worked at that till +I was nearly wild with headache. Then I sat very still, and wondered +if that boy who wasn't, <i>couldn't</i> be, Dudley Wylde—was ever going +home; and then I thought that perhaps if he sat there a little while +longer he would <i>die</i>, and that was the best thing that could happen +to him, for then he would never hear any one say—'Where is +<i>Bernard</i>?' So I sat there in this queer way, waiting for the boy to +die, when I heard a noise, and, looking up, saw—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what?" cried little Prue, clasping her hands, "a griffin, with +claws?"</p> + +<p>But Dudley could not speak, and Bernard went on. "It's too bad for +'Dud' to tell that story, when he makes himself so much worse than he +really was. I was as much to blame as he in that quarrel, and I ought +to have had my share of the misery. You see, when he threw me over, my +tippet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> caught on the rough edge of the railing, and held me just a +minute, but that minute saved me, for in some way, I hardly know how, +I swung in and dropped safely on the steps just under 'Dud.' Then I +hurried into one of those queer little places in the wall, and hid, +for I was angry, and meant to give him a good fright; and as I +happened to have a little book in my pocket, I began to read, and got +so interested that I forgot everything till it began to grow dark. +Then I hurried down, wondering that everything was so still. But when +I saw 'Dud,'" said he, turning with an affectionate glance to his +cousin, "I was frightened, for he was so changed I hardly knew him, +and I was afraid he was dying. So I ran to him, and took him right in +my arms, and called him every dear name I could think of; but he only +stared at me, with the biggest, wildest eyes, you ever saw. 'Dud,' +said I, '<i>dear</i> fellow, what <i>is</i> the matter, don't you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> me?' +Then all of a sudden he burst out crying. O girls! you never cried +like that, and I hope you never will,—great big sobs, and I helped +him. Then he flung his arms tight around my neck, and kissed me for +the first time in his life—kissed me over and over, my cheeks and my +hair and my hands, and then he laughed, and right in the midst cried +as if his heart would break, and I began to understand that poor 'Dud' +thought he had killed me. No one knows how long we laughed and cried, +and kissed each other, but when we grew a little calmer we went back +into the old castle, and on the very steps where we had our quarrel, +we knelt down, holding each other's hands, and promised always to love +each other, and try to keep down our wicked tempers."</p> + +<p>"And we asked some one to help us to keep the resolution," said +Dudley, gently.</p> + +<p>"Well, how is it!" said little Prue with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> a bewildered air; "was it +you and '<i>Dud</i>' that went and knelt on the steps to pray?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'Dud' and I."</p> + +<p>"Well then, what became of that other wicked boy that wasn't <i>Dudley +Wylde</i> at all?"</p> + +<p>Another shout covered poor Prue with confusion, as Bernard answered,—</p> + +<p>"Would you believe it, you dear little Prue, we have never seen +anything of him from that day to this?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GEORGE_AND_ALICK" id="GEORGE_AND_ALICK"></a>GEORGE AND ALICK.</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_04.jpg" alt="W" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ell, you know, Annie, it is all very well to try to be kind to and +help nice people—people whom you like. It is the nicest thing in the +world to help you, Annie, because you are always so good, and kind, +and gentle. But there are people to whom I never could be kind, let me +try ever so much."</p> + +<p>"But Georgie," his sister began.</p> + +<p>He interrupted her with some impatience.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what you are going to say. You always say that we ought to +like everybody. But that is nonsense. Everybody is not likable, and I +don't like people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> who are not likable, and I never shall, and never +can."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to say that. I don't always say it; I don't think I +ever said it," she answered quietly. "I know that one cannot like +people who are not likable. But Georgie," (with much earnestness,) "I +know, and you know, that it is God's will, that it is God's command, +that we should be kind, and tender, and gentle, and pitiful to every +one, whether we like them or not."</p> + +<p>Yes, Georgie did know that. Often had he been reminded of it. But as +this was a command he often broke, he did not like to think of it. He +moved restlessly and impatiently on his chair, and said, with some +fretfulness:—</p> + +<p>"Well, but how can one; at least how can a rough boy like me? You can, +Annie, I know. You do. Although you are often confined to this stupid +bed for weeks at a time, you do more good, and make more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> people happy +and comfortable, than any one in all the house. You are so good. It is +easy for you."</p> + +<p>"No, Georgie, it is not easy for me," she answered, her sweet, pale +face, flushing at his praise. "I am not always kind. But a thought +came into my mind about a year ago that has always helped me a great +deal. I think God must have put it into my mind. Indeed I am sure he +did, it has helped me so much."</p> + +<p>"And what was the thought?" George asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking how difficult it was to feel kindly, to feel rightly +towards those whom we don't care for, who are not pleasant; and then +it came all in a minute into my head, that we should find it much +easier if we could only remember ever and always that everybody we +meet must be either God's friend or God's enemy."</p> + +<p>"But how could that help?" George<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> asked, knitting his brows, as if +greatly puzzled.</p> + +<p>Annie tried to explain.</p> + +<p>"You know," she said, "that there are no two ways about it,—that we +must either be God's friend or his enemy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered thoughtfully; "papa made me see that long ago."</p> + +<p>"And every boy you meet is either the one or the other, whatever else +he may be, nice or not, pleasant and likable, or unpleasant and +unlikable. If he be God's friend—if he be a boy who loves our dear +Lord Jesus Christ," she went on, with an earnestness of feeling which +brought tears to her eyes,—"a boy whom Christ loves, and for whom he +died—a boy that Christ cares for, and is ever watching over, and in +whose troubles and pleasures, joys and sorrows, Christ is tenderly +concerned—O Georgie, if he be Christ's friend, must not we like to be +kind to and help him, to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> him as much good and as little harm as we +can?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I see," he answered softly, and with much feeling. Annie +went on.</p> + +<p>"And if he be a boy who does not love God," she said solemnly, "then +must he be one of the wicked with whom God says that he is angry every +day. And oh, Georgie, think what it must be to have God angry with you +every day! to go through the world without God, never to think of him +with love! to have no God to serve, no God to care for you; never to +have your troubles made easy by knowing that the loving God has sent +them, never to have your joys made sweet because they are his loving +gift! O Georgie, how dreary, how desolate! Can you help being pitiful +to any one who is in such a state?"</p> + +<p>"No, oh no," was said by Georgie's eyes even more earnestly than by +his tongue. He said no more; for boys cannot speak of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> what they feel +so readily as girls. But Annie's thought had gone deep into his heart, +and as he went a few minutes after down towards the village on an +errand for his father, his whole thoughts were occupied by it. Much +more soberly than usual did he walk down the avenue, thinking over +again all that Annie had said, and praying earnestly that God would +keep it in his memory, and bring it strongly before him each time he +had occasion to use it.</p> + +<p>Such occasion was close at hand. As he came out of the gate into the +road, he saw, a little way before him, a boy who, as he feared—nay, +rather as he knew—was one of those wicked of whom Annie had been +speaking. His name was Alick. Poor fellow, he was a cripple; he had +been a cripple from his very babyhood. He had never been able to put +his feet to the ground, to walk or run about like other boys, but +could only get along slowly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> painfully by the help of crutches. He +was besides very delicate, and often suffered violent attacks of pain +in his back and limbs, so that every one must have felt sorry for him, +had he not been such a bad, cruel, selfish boy, that anger often drove +pity away from the softest hearts. But there was this excuse for him, +he had never had any one to teach him better. His mother died when he +was a baby. His father was very rich, but was a coarse, hard man—one +who, like the unjust judge, feared not God, nor regarded man. He was +fond of his poor boy, who was his only child, but he showed his +fondness by indulging his every wish, and suffering him to do in all +things exactly as he pleased. So that Alick grew more and more wicked, +cruel, and selfish every year, until he had come to be disliked and +avoided by every one who knew him. Georgie had a particular dislike to +him. For Alick, knowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> that Georgie was far too brave to strike a +cripple who could not help himself, took the greatest pleasure in +teasing, and provoking, and working him up into passions which George +could not vent upon him.</p> + +<p>The two boys saw each other a good while before they met, and Alick +had time to prepare a taunting speech which he knew would be +particularly provoking to George. But George also had time to think of +Alick, time to recollect what Annie had said about the utter +dreariness of going through the world without God; and God, answering +George's earnest prayer, caused this recollection to move his heart to +the tenderest pity and concern for poor Alick. So when the mocking, +provoking speech was given forth in the bitterest way, George's only +answer was a look of tender, even of loving compassion.</p> + +<p>Alick misunderstood George's feeling. He thought that look was meant +to express<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> pity for his infirmities, and pity on that account he +could not bear. His cheek flushed crimson with anger, and he poured +forth a volley of fearful oaths and curses upon George, who was now +passing him upon the opposite side of the road. Again George only +answered with that look so strangely full of deep, tender pity, that +Alick's heart was stirred by it, he knew not how nor why. He felt half +provoked, as if he were being cheated out of his anger, and taking up +a small stone from the old wall against which he leaned, he threw it +at George, hitting him pretty smartly upon the arm. George took no +further notice than merely to turn round and walk backward, so as to +be able to watch for and avoid future compliments of the same kind. +Many such were sent after him without effect. But just as he was +getting beyond reach, Alick, in a last violent effort to throw far +enough, overbalanced himself, one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> crutch slipped from under him, and +he fell forward on his face in the mud!</p> + +<p>In an instant George was by his side, helping him to rise, and asking +tenderly if he were hurt. He was covered with mud from head to foot, +his face was sorely cut and bruised by some sharp stones lying under +the mud, and his teeth had cut through his upper lip. Georgie raised +him into a sitting posture, and did all he could for him. A little +burn ran by the way-side. Georgie dipped his handkerchief in it, and +kneeling beside him, tried to wash away the mud and blood from his +face with the utmost tenderness and gentleness, saying all the time +words of kindness and concern, and giving him those looks of deep, +wistful pity.</p> + +<p>At first Alick submitted to his kind offices without speaking; but +after a few minutes he turned his head from him with a fretful, +impatient, "There, that'll do," and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> stretched out his hand for his +crutches. Georgie brought them to him, and helped him to get upon +them. But poor Alick had severely sprained his shoulder in trying to +save himself as he fell, and the attempt to use his crutches gave him +the most violent pain. Selfish boys are never manly. They always think +too much of their own troubles. This new pain, and the fear that he +should not be able to get home, were too much for Alick. He gave way +to a most unrestrained fit of crying. At another time George would +have been either provoked or amused at the big boy crying thus like a +baby. But now the pity God had planted in his heart swallowed up every +other feeling. He thought only of comforting and helping him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't cry," he said encouragingly; "I'll get you home, never +fear. See, sit here a minute, and I'll run for Annie's garden-chair, +and wheel you home in it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> And having seated him comfortably leaning +against the wall, he ran off, and was back with the chair before even +the impatient Alick could have expected him.</p> + +<p>It was not easy to drive the chair through the soft mud, where hidden +stones, were constantly turning aside the wheels, jarring George's +arms, and calling forth bitter complaints from the fretful Alick. But +Georgie bore complaints and jarrings with equal patience and kindly +good humour, and as the homes of the two boys were not far apart, he +got Alick safe to his own door in no very long time.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon when Georgie came home from school, he heard from +his mother that the doctor had been there to see Annie, and had told +them that Alick was very ill. He had sprained his back as well as his +shoulder, and was suffering great pain, and must, the doctor said, be +confined to bed for many weeks. Georgie felt very sorry for him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sickness and pain are bad enough," he thought, "even when one can +feel that it is our good and loving Father who has sent them; but what +must they be to him?" And he asked his mother's leave to go to see if +he could be of any use to Alick. His mother consented, and resolutely +turning his mind from the cricket-match just beginning in the +school-yard, George went.</p> + +<p>He found the poor boy in a pitiable state. His face was swelled from +the effect of the cuts and bruises; one eye was quite closed up, and +the other he could only open a little way, for a minute at a time. He +could not turn himself in bed,—the sprained arm was bound to his +side; he could do nothing to amuse himself; and in that motherless, +sisterless home, there was no one to devise amusement for him. His +father was kind and anxious about him; but it never occurred to him to +sit by his bedside, and try to make the time pass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> pleasantly; and +even if it had occurred to him, he would not have known how to do it. +All that money could buy Alick had in abundance; but tenderness and +kind companionship were what he most wanted, and these could not be +bought.</p> + +<p>He seemed pleased to see Georgie, and gladly accepted his offer to sit +for a little with him and read to him. Georgie read aloud very well, +and with great spirit, and Alick was delighted with an amusement which +was quite new to him. The hour Georgie was allowed to give him passed +most delightfully, and when Georgie rose to go away, he was eagerly +asked to come back the next day.</p> + +<p>The next, and the next, and many succeeding afternoons, Georgie spent +by Alick's bedside, reading or chatting to him; and when he was able +to use his arms, playing with him at chess, draughts, or any such game +that Alick liked. That tender pity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> which God had put into Georgie's +heart for the poor wicked boy, he kept fresh and warm from day to day; +and Georgie never grudged the time or trouble which he gave to +Alick,—never lost patience with him, however fretful and unreasonable +he might be, but was ever ready to do what Alick wished, whether he +himself liked it or not.</p> + +<p>One afternoon they had played for a long time at a favourite game of +Alick's, but one which Georgie thought very tiresome.</p> + +<p>"Well, that is one of the nicest games in the world," said Alick, +stretching himself back upon his pillows when the game was done. +"Isn't it? Don't you like it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Georgie, looking up with an amused smile; "I don't like it +much."</p> + +<p>"Why then did you play so long without saying that you did not like +it?" Alick asked, much surprised.</p> + +<p>"Because you like it. I wanted you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> have what you like," Georgie +answered simply; and having put away all the things, he stooped over +Alick and asked him very kindly, nay, I may say very lovingly, if he +thought he should have a better night, if he thought his pain was less +than it had been.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—no,—I don't know," Alick said, looking earnestly up into +Georgie's eyes. "But, Georgie, I say, why do you care so much?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am so very sorry for you," burst from Georgie's very heart.</p> + +<p>"You well may," muttered poor Alick, glancing down at his useless, +shrunken limbs. But this time there was no anger in his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"It is not for that, not at all for that," Georgie cried eagerly, as +if guessing that pity for his infirmities might be painful.</p> + +<p>"For what then?" Alick asked, looking at him keenly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because you do not know, you do not love God," Georgie answered with +deep feeling. "O Alick, how heartless, how dreary it must be!" and the +tears rose to his eyes, and ran down his cheeks without his knowing +it.</p> + +<p>His words, spoken in that tone of intense pity, thrilled Alick to the +heart. This was the meaning of all those looks of tender, yearning +compassion which Georgie so continually cast upon him. And was it then +such a terrible thing not to know God?</p> + +<p>Georgie's "how heartless, how dreary!" sounded again in his ears, and +seemed to answer the question. He said nothing to Georgie nor to any +one; but all night long these words came back and back to his mind. He +could not get rid of them. They were pressed down into his heart by +the recollection of all that exceeding tender pity which Georgie's +eyes had so long expressed for him, and of Georgie's loving,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> patient +kindness, during his illness. And ever deeper and stronger grew the +sense that his life was in truth, and ever had been, more heartless +and dreary than Georgie could imagine.</p> + +<p>Next day, when Georgie came to his bedside, Alick looked him full in +the face and said:—</p> + +<p>"Georgie, can you teach me to know God?"</p> + +<p>You may imagine how Georgie's heart leaped with joy at the question. +Often had he longed to speak to Alick of his God and Saviour, but +hitherto he had been afraid to do it; not afraid of what Alick might +say to or of him, but afraid to hear him speak against the Lord whom +he had so often blasphemed. Now his mouth was opened, and in simple, +boyish speech, he poured out his heart to Alick, and told him all he +knew of Christ's love in taking upon himself the sins of those who +were his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> enemies. And God's Spirit going with the words he taught +Georgie to speak, Alick's heart was touched, and the poor boy was +brought to take Christ as his Lord and his God.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_SIXPENNY_CALICO" id="THE_SIXPENNY_CALICO"></a>THE SIXPENNY CALICO.</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_05.jpg" alt="O" width="48" height="50" /></div> +<p>ne day a new scholar appeared in school, and as usual was the mark of +public gaze. She was gentle and modest-looking, and never ventured to +lift her eyes from her books. At recess, to the inquiries, "Who is +she?" "What's her name?" nobody could satisfactorily answer. None of +us ever saw or heard of her before.</p> + +<p>"I know she's not much," said one of the girls.</p> + +<p>"Poorly off," said I.</p> + +<p>"Do you see her dress? Why, I believe it is nothing but a sixpenny +calico."</p> + +<p>"Poor thing, she must be cold."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can't imagine how a person can wear calico in winter," said +another, whose rich plaid was the admiration of the school.</p> + +<p>"I must say I like to see a person dressed according to the season," +remarked another; "that is, if people can afford it," she added, in a +manner plainly enough indicating that <i>her</i> father could.</p> + +<p>Such was recess talk. None of us went to take the stranger by the hand +and welcome her as the companion of our studies and our play. We stood +aloof, and stared at her with cold and unfeeling curiosity. The +teacher called her Abby. When she first came to her place for +recitation, she took a seat beside the rich plaid. The plaid drew +haughtily away, as if the sixpenny calico might dim the beauty of its +colours. A slight colour flushed Abby's cheek, but her quiet remained +the same. It was some time before she ventured on the play-ground, and +then it was only to stand aside, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> look on, for we were slow in +asking her to join us.</p> + +<p>On one occasion we had a harder arithmetic lesson than usual, +completely baffling our small brains. Upon comparing notes at recess, +none of us had mastered it.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask Abby of her success," said one of my intimate associates.</p> + +<p>"It is quite unlikely she has," I replied; "do stay here; besides, +what if she has?"</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> go," she answered.</p> + +<p>Away she went, and as it appeared, Abby and she were the only members +of the class ready for recitation. Abby had been more successful than +the rest of us, and kindly helped my friend to scale the difficulties +of the lesson.</p> + +<p>"Shall we ask Abby to join the sleigh-ride?" asked one of the girls, +who was getting a subscription for a famous New Year's ride.</p> + +<p>"Judging from her dress," I said, "if she goes, we must <i>give</i> her the +ride."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But how will it do to leave her out?" they asked.</p> + +<p>"She does not of course expect to be asked to ride with us," I said; +"she is evidently of a poor family."</p> + +<p>As a sort of leader in school, my words were influential, and poor +Abby was left out. How often did I contrast my white hands and warm +gloves with the purple fingers and cheap mittens of my neighbour Abby. +How miserable I should be with such working hands and no gloves.</p> + +<p>By-and-by I took to patronizing her. "She is really a very nice +creature, and ought to join us more in our plays," we said. So we used +to make her "one of us" in the play-ground. In fact, I began to thaw +towards her very considerably. There was something in Abby which +called out our respect.</p> + +<p>One Saturday afternoon, as I was looking out of the window, wishing +for something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> to do, my mother asked me to join her in a little walk. +On went my new cloak, warm furs, and pink hat, and in a trice I was +ready. We went first to the stores, where I was very glad to be met by +several acquaintances in my handsome winter dress. At last I found my +mother turning off into less frequented thoroughfares.</p> + +<p>"Where, mother," I asked, "in this vulgar part of the town?"</p> + +<p>"Not vulgar, my dear," she said. "A very respectable and industrious +part of our population live here."</p> + +<p>"Not fashionable, certainly," I added.</p> + +<p>"And not vulgar because not fashionable, by any means," she said; for +you may be sure my false and often foolish notions were not gained +from her. She stopped before a humble-looking house, and entered the +front door.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" I asked with much curiosity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>She gently opened a side door, and hesitated a moment on the +threshold.</p> + +<p>"Caroline, come in," said a voice from within. "I am very happy to see +you."</p> + +<p>"Pray, don't rise, dear," said my mother, going forward and +affectionately kissing a sick lady who sat in a rocking chair. "You +look better than when I saw you before. Do not exert yourself."</p> + +<p>I was introduced, and I fancied the invalid looked at me with a sort +of admiring surprise as she took my hand and hoped I should prove +worthy of such a mother. Then, while my mother and she were talking, I +sat down and took notes with my eyes of everything in the room. It +looked beautifully neat, and the furniture evidently had seen better +days. By-and-by mother asked for her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Gone out on some errands," said the sick lady. "The dear child is an +inexpressible blessing to me," and tears filled her eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A mother might well be thankful for such a daughter. She is a pattern +<i>my</i> child might safely imitate."</p> + +<p>I thought I should be exceedingly glad to see the person my mother was +so willing I should copy.</p> + +<p>"She will return soon," said the invalid. "She has gone to carry some +work which she has contrived to do in her leisure moments. The +self-sacrifice of the child is wonderful. She seems to desire nothing +that other girls of her age generally want. A little while ago, an +early friend who had found me out and befriended me as you have +done"—tears came into the speaker's eyes—"sent her a handsome winter +dress. 'O mother,' she said, 'this is too expensive for me, when you +want some warm flannel so.' I told her it was just what she needed. A +few days afterwards she went out and came home with a roll of flannel +and a calico dress. 'See, mother,' she said, 'I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> shall enjoy this +calico a hundred times more than the finest dress in the world, when +you can have your flannel.' Excuse me for telling it, but you know a +mother's heart. There is her step; she is coming."</p> + +<p>The outer door opened. How I longed to see the comer! "A perfect +angel," I thought, "so generous, so disinterested, so good; I should +love her." The latch was lifted. A young girl entered, and my +school-fellow Abby stood before me! I could have sunk into the earth +for very shame. How wicked my pride! how false and foolish my +judgments! Oh, how mean did my fine winter dress appear before the +plain <i>sixpenny calico</i>!</p> + +<p>I was almost sure my mother had managed all this, for she had a way of +making me see my faults, and making me desire to cure them, without +ever saying much directly herself. This, however, had not come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> about +by her intervention; God taught me by his providence.</p> + +<p>As we walked home, my mother gave me an account of Mrs. G——, an +early friend who made an imprudent marriage. But that story is no +matter here. I will only add, my judgment of people was formed ever +after according to a better standard than the dress they wore, and +that Abby and I became intimate friends.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_WESTMORELAND_STORY" id="A_WESTMORELAND_STORY"></a>A WESTMORELAND STORY.</h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_04.jpg" alt="W" width="50" height="50" /></div> +<p>ho among my little readers are not older than ten years? Come and I +shall tell you a story of what happened to six poor children, all +under that age, about fifty years ago. It will be a good lesson for us +all, to see what God helped one brave little girl to do.</p> + +<p>Agnes Green was nine years old, and had five brothers and sisters +younger than herself. Their father was a respectable working man, and +they all lived in a small cottage in a wild valley of the mountains of +Westmoreland. If you take a good map of England, and look in the north +for West<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>moreland, you may see Grasmere marked. It is the name of a +beautiful valley and also of a lake and a village in it. Beyond this +is a smaller valley called Easdale, quite surrounded by high hills, +with just one narrow opening into Grasmere. Here, in a lonely cottage, +the Greens lived. In fair weather the older children could go to the +Grasmere school. Their mother did all she could to keep them neat and +comfortable; but she could not afford to have a servant, and so little +Agnes was taught to do many more things than are common at her age. +She was a very good and clever child, and learned to milk the cow, +mend the fire, cook the dinner, nurse the little ones—do all that was +possible for her age and strength. Which of you is at all like her? +You may say, perhaps, that there is no need for <i>you</i> to learn such +things. But you cannot begin too soon to be useful. Had poor Agnes +been as helpless as some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> of you, she and her brothers and sisters +must have died of cold and hunger in the sad time I am going to tell +you of.</p> + +<p>One winter day, Mr. and Mrs. Green had business which made them very +anxious to go to a farm-house at some distance from Easdale. There was +snow on the ground, but the morning was fine; and to save a long road +round by Grasmere, they determined to take a short cut right over the +mountains, which they had sometimes done before. So Mrs. Green made +everything straight for the day, bidding Agnes take good care of the +little ones, and expect her and their father back in the evening +before dark; and then both parents kissed the children, and set out on +the journey, from which they were never to return. They got safe to +the farm, where a number of people were assembled at a sale, did their +business, and said they would go home by the same way, although many +of their friends<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> advised them not to attempt it, for more snow was +evidently coming on.</p> + +<p>Evening came, and Agnes made a bright peat fire, which all the +children gathered round, expecting every minute to hear their parents' +voices at the door. But it began to get dark and late, and still they +did not come. Agnes had often heard of the dangers of snow among the +hills, and she soon got uneasy. Her little brothers were afraid too, +though they hardly knew for what. They listened to every sound of the +wind; they started at times, thinking it was their father's step; but +all in vain. At last Agnes said they must go to bed; and as they had +all been well trained to be obedient, they came and said their prayers +at her knees, and then went to rest with fearful hearts.</p> + +<p>Next morning, when Agnes looked out, she saw there had been a heavy +fall of snow, so that the cottage was almost shut<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> up, and it would be +impossible for them even to reach the nearest neighbours. And, oh! +there was no sign of their dear father and mother's return. She had a +lingering hope that they might have been detained all night at +Grasmere; but her fears were far greater. It was, indeed, a terrible +situation for six little children to be left in, and her mind being +advanced beyond her years, she felt all the danger. But she knew where +to look for help; and He who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for +ever, heard the cry of this forsaken child, and gave her wisdom and +ability for her time of need, as truly as he gave to Solomon on the +throne of Israel, long ages before.</p> + +<p>She wound up the clock, dressed the infants, and made the older +children come and say their prayers as usual. She knew that their +greatest danger would be that of starvation, should the storm last +long. Their mother had left plenty of milk in the house,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> and Agnes +scalded it carefully, to prevent it turning sour. Then she examined +the meal-chest, and finding there was not much in it, she put all +except the babies (these were little twins) on a short allowance of +porridge, but baked some flour cakes as a kind of treat. Then, as the +day went on, she took courage to open the door, and with her brothers +got as far as the peat-stack at the cottage side, and among them they +managed to carry within doors as many peats as would keep up the fire +for a week. She examined the potatoes, which were buried among +withered ferns; but as there were not many, only brought in enough for +a day, afraid of heat spoiling them.</p> + +<p>Then she thought of the cow, and made her way to the byre. She milked +the poor animal, but got very little from her, and had great +difficulty in pulling down hay out of the loft for her to eat; +besides, it was getting dark, and poor Agnes felt very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> frightened and +unhappy. So she was thankful to get into the cottage again, and, +barring the door, she put the infants comfortably to bed, and allowed +the others to sit up with her until midnight, in the faint hope that +some token of their dear parents not being lost might reach them +before then. It was a wild night of wind and snow, and though the +little watchers sometimes fancied they heard voices in the stormy +blast, when the lull came, all was silence. Agnes did what she could +to keep the snow from drifting in below the door or through a chink of +the window, and also to make sure that the fire would not go out, and +then they sadly went to bed.</p> + +<p>Next morning the snow-drifts were higher than ever! There was no +possibility of going out; but the brave little mother—for so we may +call her—still kept her family quiet and comfortable—never omitting +the morning and evening prayers, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> struggling hard against her own +fears and sorrows.</p> + +<p>At last, either on the third or fourth day, I am not sure which, the +snow-drifts had changed in such a way that Agnes thought it might be +possible to try the road to Grasmere. Her brothers went with her part +of the way, till they saw she was safe, and then went back to the +little ones, and Agnes went to the nearest cottage. When the poor +weeping child told her sad story, the good people were overcome with +astonishment, distress, and sympathy. The news spread like lightning +through Grasmere, that Mr. and Mrs. Green had not been seen by their +children since the day of the sale at Langdale. Before an hour had +passed, all the men in the parish gathered together, arranged the best +plans for a search, and then dispersed over the mountains. In the +state of the weather, it was a dangerous duty, and great was the +anxiety of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> wives and mothers left at home. The men returned at +night, without any success, and this went on for several days. They +willingly gave up all other work, and morning after morning set out on +their toilsome, sorrowful pilgrimage, while the poor orphans, of +course, were most tenderly cared for now. At length some one thought +of taking sagacious dogs up the hills to help the search; and on the +fifth day, about noon, a loud shout, echoed by the rocks, and repeated +from one band of men to another, told the women in the valley that the +bodies were found. Poor John Green lay at the foot of a precipice, +over which he had fallen; his wife, whom he had wrapped in his own +greatcoat, was found above. They had wandered far out of the right +course, and must have died in the darkness of that first stormy night, +while their children were watching for them round the fire at home.</p> + +<p>They had been such respectable, worthy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> people, that their loss was +greatly lamented, and rich and poor were alike desirous to help and +care for the orphans. You will ask what became of Agnes afterwards. I +cannot tell you. If she is alive now, she must be an old woman; but +she can never have forgotten the story of her parents' death, and I +trust she has never forgotten how the Father of the fatherless was +then her helper and protector.</p> + +<p>Let me point out only two lessons from this sad tale. One is, that if +God be with us, we need fear no evil. Can you think of anything more +dreadful than to be left shut up in the snow-storm, as these children +were, with their parents dying on the wild hills above? Yet God did +not forsake them. He sent no angel, he wrought no miracle for their +deliverance; but he gave wisdom and courage to the little girl, in her +time of sore distress and danger. And so every one of you, if you +trust in Him, may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> be sure of finding the promise fulfilled—"As thy +days, so shall thy strength be."</p> + +<p>Another lesson is, the happiness of being loving towards one another, +and obedient to those older than yourselves. Had these children been +like many others, quarrelsome and unruly, what a sad difference it +would have made! But they obeyed their young sister as if she had been +their mother; and so the days of captivity were far less hard to bear +for all.</p> + +<p>Think of these things when you remember the story of little Agnes +Green, and pray and try to be like her.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Old Castle and Other Stories, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD CASTLE AND OTHER STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 21278-h.htm or 21278-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/2/7/21278/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sankar Viswanathan, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works in the International Children's Digital +Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Old Castle and Other Stories + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: May 2, 2007 [EBook #21278] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD CASTLE AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sankar Viswanathan, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works in the International Children's Digital +Library.) + + + + + + + + + + [Illustration: THE LONELY COTTAGE + _page 53_] + + + + THE OLD CASTLE + + AND + + Other Stories. + + + + + + LONDON: THOMAS NELSON AND SONS. + + EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. + + 1881. + + * * * * * + + + + +Contents. + + +THE OLD CASTLE, + +GEORGE AND ALICK, + +THE SIXPENNY CALICO, + +A WESTMORELAND STORY, + + * * * * * + + + + +THE OLD CASTLE. + + +How pleasant the parlour looked on the evening of "Flaxy's" birthday. +To be sure it was November, and the wind was setting the poor dying +leaves in a miserable shiver with some dreadful story of an iceberg he +had just been visiting. But what cared Dicky and Prue, or Dudley and +Flaxy, or all the rest sitting cosily around that charming fire, which +glowed as if some kind fairy had filled up the little black grate with +carbuncles and rubies? Over the mantle-piece were branches of pretty +white sperm candles, whose light fell softly on the heavy red +curtains and the roses in the carpet, and danced in the eyes of the +happy children. + +They, the children, had been having a "splendid time." They had played +games, and put together dissected maps, and tried puzzles, and read in +Flaxy's wonderful books; and since tea they had had a grand romp at +"fox and geese," even such big boys as Bernard and Dudley joining in; +and now they were resting with pretty red cheeks and parted mouths. + +"Well, what shall we do now?" cried little Prue, who could not bear +that a minute of the precious time should be wasted in mere sitting +still. + +"Why, isn't it a good time for some one else to tell his story?" asked +Flaxy. + +"Just the thing," was the unanimous response. "Another story! a +story!" and then a voice cried, "And let Dudley Wylde tell it." + +"Well," said Dudley, slowly, "if I must tell a _true_ story about +_myself_, I'm afraid it won't be much to my credit, but as Flaxy +wasn't a coward about it, I'll try to be as brave as a _girl_. Shall I +tell you something that happened to Bernard and me when we lived over +in England?" + +"Oh, please don't tell that story, Dud," pleaded Bernard with +reddening cheeks, but all the rest cried, "Oh, yes, go on, go on," and +Dudley began. + +"You all know that Bernard and I were both left orphans when we were +almost little babies, and Uncle Wylde sent for us to come and live +with him--me first, and Bernard about a year afterwards. I was only +six years old when Bernard came, but I remember I was very angry about +it. Old Joe, the coachman, and I, had had a quarrel that morning, and +he told me uncle 'would never care for me any more after Cousin +Bernard came, for he was a much finer boy than I, and looked like a +young English lord, with his blue eyes and white skin, but _I_ was a +little, dark, ill-tempered foreigner (my mother was Italian, you +know), and he wondered how uncle could like me at all.'" + +"But uncle did love you dearly, you know," broke in Bernard. + +"A great deal better than I deserved, that's certain," said Dudley, +"but I almost worshipped _him_, and I couldn't bear the thoughts of +his loving any one better than me. So all the day that Bernard was +expected I stood sulkily by the window, and would not play, nor eat, +nor even speak when Uncle Wylde came and took me in his lap. + +"'Poor child,' said uncle, at last, 'he needs some one of his own age +to play with. I hope the little cousins will be fine company for each +other.' + +"Just then the carriage drove up, and uncle ran out and took such a +lovely little boy in his arms; but when I heard him say, almost with a +sob, 'Darling child, you are just the image of your dear, dear +mother,' then I thought, 'There, it is all true what Joe said, uncle +loves him the best already;' and I bit my fingers so that when uncle +bade me hold out my hand to my cousin, he was frightened to see it +covered with blood, and drew back with a shiver; and then I grew angry +about that, too, and called him '_proud_,' and went and hid away every +plaything I could find. + +"Well, I won't have time to tell you every little thing, only that as +Bernard and I grew up together, I did not love him any better. He was +almost always kind and good." + +"Now Dud, you must not say so," said Bernard, blushing. "I did +everything to tease you." + +"You must not interrupt," cried Dudley. "This is _my_ story, +remember. You never teased me much, but the great thing I couldn't +forgive you was that uncle loved you best." + +"No, I'm sure he didn't," cried Bernard. + +"No more interruptions," said all the children, and Dudley went on. + +"Well, you see I was very suspicious and miserable, and I always +thought Bernard wanted to make fun of me. When he first began to call +me 'Dud,' for _short_, I thought he meant that I was like the old rags +that Joe used to clean the carriages with, for he always used to call +them 'old duds.' And then sometimes when I came in from riding on +Lightfoot's bare back, with my hair blown every sort of a way, if he +said, 'Shall we have our lessons now, uncle? here comes _Wylde_,' I +always thought he was trying to make uncle think I was _wild_ like +those horrid Indians we used to read about, while he, Bernard, was +always neat and smooth like a little gentleman. So you see there was +nothing that Bernard could do or say, that I did not twist around to +make myself miserable. + +"One day, when I had been playing with my dog Sambo half the morning, +and riding Lightfoot the rest of the time, I was called on to recite +Latin to uncle, and didn't know one word. But Bernard recited like a +book, and when it was over, uncle did not scold me, he never did, but +just gave Bernard the pretty picture I had long been wanting, of the +boy climbing up over crag and ice, shouting 'Excelsior.' + +"That very afternoon we had planned to take a walk together to an old +ruined castle, but I was so cross and sullen I wonder Bernard did not +slip away and go alone. I can't begin to tell you how envious and +unhappy I felt, and I quarrelled so with him about every little thing, +that at last he scarcely opened his mouth." + +"I don't believe this story is true," said Flaxy indignantly. "I'm +sure the Dudley Wylde _we_ know was never so bad and quarrelsome." + +Dudley smiled, while Bettine whispered softly, "But he's different +_now_, Flaxy. Do you know his uncle says he is trying to be a +_Christian_?" + +Flaxy looked up with a bright tear of sympathy, as Dudley continued. + +"At last we reached the castle, where we had often been before, and +for a while I was more good-natured, for there was nothing I liked +better than climbing up and down the broken stairway, which wound +round and round like a great screw, or looking into every queer little +room hid away in the thick walls, or climbing to the turrets to wave +my handkerchief like the flag of a conquering hero. + +"But this afternoon there was something new to see. In the great hall +just under the stairs, the floor had lately caved away, and you could +see down into a deep vault. Bernard and I lay down with our faces just +over the edge, and tried to see the bottom, but it was dark as pitch, +and we couldn't make out anything. + +"'I shouldn't wonder if they buried dead people there, a great while +ago,' said Bernard, with a little shiver; and when we both got up, +feeling very sober, he said, just to raise our spirits,-- + +"'Let's have a race up the steps, and see which will get to the roof +first.' + +"Off we started. I could generally climb like a wild cat, but in some +way I stumbled and hurt my knee, and Bernard gained very fast. I felt +my quick temper rising again. 'Shall he beat me in everything?' I said +to myself, and with a great spring I caught up to him, and seized his +jacket. Then began a struggle. Bernard cried 'Fair play,' and tried to +throw me off; but I was very angry, and strong as a young tiger, and +all of a sudden--for I didn't know what I was about--I just flung him +with all my might right over the edge, where the railing was half +broken down!" + +"Oh dear! oh dear!" cried little Prue, bursting into tears, "did it +_kill_ him?" + +A merry laugh from Bernard, followed by a hearty chorus from the rest, +restored bewildered little Prue to her senses. But Dudley went on very +soberly. + +"Bernard screamed as he went over, and with that scream all my anger +died in a minute, and I sat down on the stairs, shaking from head to +foot. Then I listened, but I didn't hear a sound. I don't know how +long I sat there, but at last I got up very slowly, and began to come +down just like an old man. It was so dreadfully still in the old +castle, that I felt in a queer way, as if _I_ must be very careful, +too, and I stepped on my tip-toes, and held my breath. When I got to +the foot, I felt as if a big hand held my heart tight, and when I +tried to walk towards the spot where I thought Bernard must have +fallen, I could not move a step. But after a great while--it seemed +like a year--I managed to drag myself to the place, and, do you know, +no one was there!" + +"Why, where _could_ he be?" cried the astonished children. + +"Well, I thought he might have fallen, and rolled off under the stairs +into that dreadful vault." + +"Oh, don't have him get in _there_, please," cried tender little Prue. + +"Then," said Dudley slowly, "I leaned over the vault, and called his +name, 'Bernard! Bernard!' and then I jumped back, and almost screamed, +for I thought some other boy had spoken. I did not know my own voice; +it sounded so strange and solemn. But no one answered, and I dragged +myself away, feeling as if that awful hand grew tighter on my heart, +and thinking, as I went out of the door, how two of us went in, and +_why_ I was coming out _alone_. Then I sat down on the grass, and +though it was warm summer weather, I shivered from head to foot, and +_I_ remember thinking to myself, 'This queer boy sitting here isn't +Dudley Wylde--this boy _couldn't_ get angry, he's as cold as an +icicle--and Dudley Wylde's heart used to beat, beat, oh! so lively and +quick, but _this_ boy's heart is under a great weight, and will never +stir again--this boy will never run again, nor laugh, nor care for +anything--this boy isn't, he _can't_ be Dudley Wylde;' and I felt so +sorry for him I almost cried. Then, all of a sudden, I remember, I +began to work very hard. I picked up stones out of the path, and +carried them a great way off, and worked till I was just ready to +drop. Then I took some flowers, and picked them all to pieces--so +curious to see how they were put together, and I worked at that till +I was nearly wild with headache. Then I sat very still, and wondered +if that boy who wasn't, _couldn't_ be, Dudley Wylde--was ever going +home; and then I thought that perhaps if he sat there a little while +longer he would _die_, and that was the best thing that could happen +to him, for then he would never hear any one say--'Where is +_Bernard_?' So I sat there in this queer way, waiting for the boy to +die, when I heard a noise, and, looking up, saw--" + +"Oh, what?" cried little Prue, clasping her hands, "a griffin, with +claws?" + +But Dudley could not speak, and Bernard went on. "It's too bad for +'Dud' to tell that story, when he makes himself so much worse than he +really was. I was as much to blame as he in that quarrel, and I ought +to have had my share of the misery. You see, when he threw me over, my +tippet caught on the rough edge of the railing, and held me just a +minute, but that minute saved me, for in some way, I hardly know how, +I swung in and dropped safely on the steps just under 'Dud.' Then I +hurried into one of those queer little places in the wall, and hid, +for I was angry, and meant to give him a good fright; and as I +happened to have a little book in my pocket, I began to read, and got +so interested that I forgot everything till it began to grow dark. +Then I hurried down, wondering that everything was so still. But when +I saw 'Dud,'" said he, turning with an affectionate glance to his +cousin, "I was frightened, for he was so changed I hardly knew him, +and I was afraid he was dying. So I ran to him, and took him right in +my arms, and called him every dear name I could think of; but he only +stared at me, with the biggest, wildest eyes, you ever saw. 'Dud,' +said I, '_dear_ fellow, what _is_ the matter, don't you know me?' +Then all of a sudden he burst out crying. O girls! you never cried +like that, and I hope you never will,--great big sobs, and I helped +him. Then he flung his arms tight around my neck, and kissed me for +the first time in his life--kissed me over and over, my cheeks and my +hair and my hands, and then he laughed, and right in the midst cried +as if his heart would break, and I began to understand that poor 'Dud' +thought he had killed me. No one knows how long we laughed and cried, +and kissed each other, but when we grew a little calmer we went back +into the old castle, and on the very steps where we had our quarrel, +we knelt down, holding each other's hands, and promised always to love +each other, and try to keep down our wicked tempers." + +"And we asked some one to help us to keep the resolution," said +Dudley, gently. + +"Well, how is it!" said little Prue with a bewildered air; "was it +you and '_Dud_' that went and knelt on the steps to pray?" + +"Yes, 'Dud' and I." + +"Well then, what became of that other wicked boy that wasn't _Dudley +Wylde_ at all?" + +Another shout covered poor Prue with confusion, as Bernard answered,-- + +"Would you believe it, you dear little Prue, we have never seen +anything of him from that day to this?" + + + + +GEORGE AND ALICK. + + +"Well, you know, Annie, it is all very well to try to be kind to and +help nice people--people whom you like. It is the nicest thing in the +world to help you, Annie, because you are always so good, and kind, +and gentle. But there are people to whom I never could be kind, let me +try ever so much." + +"But Georgie," his sister began. + +He interrupted her with some impatience. + +"Oh, I know what you are going to say. You always say that we ought to +like everybody. But that is nonsense. Everybody is not likable, and I +don't like people who are not likable, and I never shall, and never +can." + +"I did not mean to say that. I don't always say it; I don't think I +ever said it," she answered quietly. "I know that one cannot like +people who are not likable. But Georgie," (with much earnestness,) "I +know, and you know, that it is God's will, that it is God's command, +that we should be kind, and tender, and gentle, and pitiful to every +one, whether we like them or not." + +Yes, Georgie did know that. Often had he been reminded of it. But as +this was a command he often broke, he did not like to think of it. He +moved restlessly and impatiently on his chair, and said, with some +fretfulness:-- + +"Well, but how can one; at least how can a rough boy like me? You can, +Annie, I know. You do. Although you are often confined to this stupid +bed for weeks at a time, you do more good, and make more people happy +and comfortable, than any one in all the house. You are so good. It is +easy for you." + +"No, Georgie, it is not easy for me," she answered, her sweet, pale +face, flushing at his praise. "I am not always kind. But a thought +came into my mind about a year ago that has always helped me a great +deal. I think God must have put it into my mind. Indeed I am sure he +did, it has helped me so much." + +"And what was the thought?" George asked eagerly. + +"I was thinking how difficult it was to feel kindly, to feel rightly +towards those whom we don't care for, who are not pleasant; and then +it came all in a minute into my head, that we should find it much +easier if we could only remember ever and always that everybody we +meet must be either God's friend or God's enemy." + +"But how could that help?" George asked, knitting his brows, as if +greatly puzzled. + +Annie tried to explain. + +"You know," she said, "that there are no two ways about it,--that we +must either be God's friend or his enemy." + +"Yes," he answered thoughtfully; "papa made me see that long ago." + +"And every boy you meet is either the one or the other, whatever else +he may be, nice or not, pleasant and likable, or unpleasant and +unlikable. If he be God's friend--if he be a boy who loves our dear +Lord Jesus Christ," she went on, with an earnestness of feeling which +brought tears to her eyes,--"a boy whom Christ loves, and for whom he +died--a boy that Christ cares for, and is ever watching over, and in +whose troubles and pleasures, joys and sorrows, Christ is tenderly +concerned--O Georgie, if he be Christ's friend, must not we like to be +kind to and help him, to do him as much good and as little harm as we +can?" + +"Yes, yes, I see," he answered softly, and with much feeling. Annie +went on. + +"And if he be a boy who does not love God," she said solemnly, "then +must he be one of the wicked with whom God says that he is angry every +day. And oh, Georgie, think what it must be to have God angry with you +every day! to go through the world without God, never to think of him +with love! to have no God to serve, no God to care for you; never to +have your troubles made easy by knowing that the loving God has sent +them, never to have your joys made sweet because they are his loving +gift! O Georgie, how dreary, how desolate! Can you help being pitiful +to any one who is in such a state?" + +"No, oh no," was said by Georgie's eyes even more earnestly than by +his tongue. He said no more; for boys cannot speak of what they feel +so readily as girls. But Annie's thought had gone deep into his heart, +and as he went a few minutes after down towards the village on an +errand for his father, his whole thoughts were occupied by it. Much +more soberly than usual did he walk down the avenue, thinking over +again all that Annie had said, and praying earnestly that God would +keep it in his memory, and bring it strongly before him each time he +had occasion to use it. + +Such occasion was close at hand. As he came out of the gate into the +road, he saw, a little way before him, a boy who, as he feared--nay, +rather as he knew--was one of those wicked of whom Annie had been +speaking. His name was Alick. Poor fellow, he was a cripple; he had +been a cripple from his very babyhood. He had never been able to put +his feet to the ground, to walk or run about like other boys, but +could only get along slowly and painfully by the help of crutches. He +was besides very delicate, and often suffered violent attacks of pain +in his back and limbs, so that every one must have felt sorry for him, +had he not been such a bad, cruel, selfish boy, that anger often drove +pity away from the softest hearts. But there was this excuse for him, +he had never had any one to teach him better. His mother died when he +was a baby. His father was very rich, but was a coarse, hard man--one +who, like the unjust judge, feared not God, nor regarded man. He was +fond of his poor boy, who was his only child, but he showed his +fondness by indulging his every wish, and suffering him to do in all +things exactly as he pleased. So that Alick grew more and more wicked, +cruel, and selfish every year, until he had come to be disliked and +avoided by every one who knew him. Georgie had a particular dislike to +him. For Alick, knowing that Georgie was far too brave to strike a +cripple who could not help himself, took the greatest pleasure in +teasing, and provoking, and working him up into passions which George +could not vent upon him. + +The two boys saw each other a good while before they met, and Alick +had time to prepare a taunting speech which he knew would be +particularly provoking to George. But George also had time to think of +Alick, time to recollect what Annie had said about the utter +dreariness of going through the world without God; and God, answering +George's earnest prayer, caused this recollection to move his heart to +the tenderest pity and concern for poor Alick. So when the mocking, +provoking speech was given forth in the bitterest way, George's only +answer was a look of tender, even of loving compassion. + +Alick misunderstood George's feeling. He thought that look was meant +to express pity for his infirmities, and pity on that account he +could not bear. His cheek flushed crimson with anger, and he poured +forth a volley of fearful oaths and curses upon George, who was now +passing him upon the opposite side of the road. Again George only +answered with that look so strangely full of deep, tender pity, that +Alick's heart was stirred by it, he knew not how nor why. He felt half +provoked, as if he were being cheated out of his anger, and taking up +a small stone from the old wall against which he leaned, he threw it +at George, hitting him pretty smartly upon the arm. George took no +further notice than merely to turn round and walk backward, so as to +be able to watch for and avoid future compliments of the same kind. +Many such were sent after him without effect. But just as he was +getting beyond reach, Alick, in a last violent effort to throw far +enough, overbalanced himself, one crutch slipped from under him, and +he fell forward on his face in the mud! + +In an instant George was by his side, helping him to rise, and asking +tenderly if he were hurt. He was covered with mud from head to foot, +his face was sorely cut and bruised by some sharp stones lying under +the mud, and his teeth had cut through his upper lip. Georgie raised +him into a sitting posture, and did all he could for him. A little +burn ran by the way-side. Georgie dipped his handkerchief in it, and +kneeling beside him, tried to wash away the mud and blood from his +face with the utmost tenderness and gentleness, saying all the time +words of kindness and concern, and giving him those looks of deep, +wistful pity. + +At first Alick submitted to his kind offices without speaking; but +after a few minutes he turned his head from him with a fretful, +impatient, "There, that'll do," and stretched out his hand for his +crutches. Georgie brought them to him, and helped him to get upon +them. But poor Alick had severely sprained his shoulder in trying to +save himself as he fell, and the attempt to use his crutches gave him +the most violent pain. Selfish boys are never manly. They always think +too much of their own troubles. This new pain, and the fear that he +should not be able to get home, were too much for Alick. He gave way +to a most unrestrained fit of crying. At another time George would +have been either provoked or amused at the big boy crying thus like a +baby. But now the pity God had planted in his heart swallowed up every +other feeling. He thought only of comforting and helping him. + +"Oh, don't cry," he said encouragingly; "I'll get you home, never +fear. See, sit here a minute, and I'll run for Annie's garden-chair, +and wheel you home in it." And having seated him comfortably leaning +against the wall, he ran off, and was back with the chair before even +the impatient Alick could have expected him. + +It was not easy to drive the chair through the soft mud, where hidden +stones, were constantly turning aside the wheels, jarring George's +arms, and calling forth bitter complaints from the fretful Alick. But +Georgie bore complaints and jarrings with equal patience and kindly +good humour, and as the homes of the two boys were not far apart, he +got Alick safe to his own door in no very long time. + +The next afternoon when Georgie came home from school, he heard from +his mother that the doctor had been there to see Annie, and had told +them that Alick was very ill. He had sprained his back as well as his +shoulder, and was suffering great pain, and must, the doctor said, be +confined to bed for many weeks. Georgie felt very sorry for him. + +"Sickness and pain are bad enough," he thought, "even when one can +feel that it is our good and loving Father who has sent them; but what +must they be to him?" And he asked his mother's leave to go to see if +he could be of any use to Alick. His mother consented, and resolutely +turning his mind from the cricket-match just beginning in the +school-yard, George went. + +He found the poor boy in a pitiable state. His face was swelled from +the effect of the cuts and bruises; one eye was quite closed up, and +the other he could only open a little way, for a minute at a time. He +could not turn himself in bed,--the sprained arm was bound to his +side; he could do nothing to amuse himself; and in that motherless, +sisterless home, there was no one to devise amusement for him. His +father was kind and anxious about him; but it never occurred to him to +sit by his bedside, and try to make the time pass pleasantly; and +even if it had occurred to him, he would not have known how to do it. +All that money could buy Alick had in abundance; but tenderness and +kind companionship were what he most wanted, and these could not be +bought. + +He seemed pleased to see Georgie, and gladly accepted his offer to sit +for a little with him and read to him. Georgie read aloud very well, +and with great spirit, and Alick was delighted with an amusement which +was quite new to him. The hour Georgie was allowed to give him passed +most delightfully, and when Georgie rose to go away, he was eagerly +asked to come back the next day. + +The next, and the next, and many succeeding afternoons, Georgie spent +by Alick's bedside, reading or chatting to him; and when he was able +to use his arms, playing with him at chess, draughts, or any such game +that Alick liked. That tender pity which God had put into Georgie's +heart for the poor wicked boy, he kept fresh and warm from day to day; +and Georgie never grudged the time or trouble which he gave to +Alick,--never lost patience with him, however fretful and unreasonable +he might be, but was ever ready to do what Alick wished, whether he +himself liked it or not. + +One afternoon they had played for a long time at a favourite game of +Alick's, but one which Georgie thought very tiresome. + +"Well, that is one of the nicest games in the world," said Alick, +stretching himself back upon his pillows when the game was done. +"Isn't it? Don't you like it?" + +"No," said Georgie, looking up with an amused smile; "I don't like it +much." + +"Why then did you play so long without saying that you did not like +it?" Alick asked, much surprised. + +"Because you like it. I wanted you to have what you like," Georgie +answered simply; and having put away all the things, he stooped over +Alick and asked him very kindly, nay, I may say very lovingly, if he +thought he should have a better night, if he thought his pain was less +than it had been. + +"Yes,--no,--I don't know," Alick said, looking earnestly up into +Georgie's eyes. "But, Georgie, I say, why do you care so much?" + +"Because I am so very sorry for you," burst from Georgie's very heart. + +"You well may," muttered poor Alick, glancing down at his useless, +shrunken limbs. But this time there was no anger in his thoughts. + +"It is not for that, not at all for that," Georgie cried eagerly, as +if guessing that pity for his infirmities might be painful. + +"For what then?" Alick asked, looking at him keenly. + +"Because you do not know, you do not love God," Georgie answered with +deep feeling. "O Alick, how heartless, how dreary it must be!" and the +tears rose to his eyes, and ran down his cheeks without his knowing +it. + +His words, spoken in that tone of intense pity, thrilled Alick to the +heart. This was the meaning of all those looks of tender, yearning +compassion which Georgie so continually cast upon him. And was it then +such a terrible thing not to know God? + +Georgie's "how heartless, how dreary!" sounded again in his ears, and +seemed to answer the question. He said nothing to Georgie nor to any +one; but all night long these words came back and back to his mind. He +could not get rid of them. They were pressed down into his heart by +the recollection of all that exceeding tender pity which Georgie's +eyes had so long expressed for him, and of Georgie's loving, patient +kindness, during his illness. And ever deeper and stronger grew the +sense that his life was in truth, and ever had been, more heartless +and dreary than Georgie could imagine. + +Next day, when Georgie came to his bedside, Alick looked him full in +the face and said:-- + +"Georgie, can you teach me to know God?" + +You may imagine how Georgie's heart leaped with joy at the question. +Often had he longed to speak to Alick of his God and Saviour, but +hitherto he had been afraid to do it; not afraid of what Alick might +say to or of him, but afraid to hear him speak against the Lord whom +he had so often blasphemed. Now his mouth was opened, and in simple, +boyish speech, he poured out his heart to Alick, and told him all he +knew of Christ's love in taking upon himself the sins of those who +were his enemies. And God's Spirit going with the words he taught +Georgie to speak, Alick's heart was touched, and the poor boy was +brought to take Christ as his Lord and his God. + + + + +THE SIXPENNY CALICO. + + +One day a new scholar appeared in school, and as usual was the mark of +public gaze. She was gentle and modest-looking, and never ventured to +lift her eyes from her books. At recess, to the inquiries, "Who is +she?" "What's her name?" nobody could satisfactorily answer. None of +us ever saw or heard of her before. + +"I know she's not much," said one of the girls. + +"Poorly off," said I. + +"Do you see her dress? Why, I believe it is nothing but a sixpenny +calico." + +"Poor thing, she must be cold." + +"I can't imagine how a person can wear calico in winter," said +another, whose rich plaid was the admiration of the school. + +"I must say I like to see a person dressed according to the season," +remarked another; "that is, if people can afford it," she added, in a +manner plainly enough indicating that _her_ father could. + +Such was recess talk. None of us went to take the stranger by the hand +and welcome her as the companion of our studies and our play. We stood +aloof, and stared at her with cold and unfeeling curiosity. The +teacher called her Abby. When she first came to her place for +recitation, she took a seat beside the rich plaid. The plaid drew +haughtily away, as if the sixpenny calico might dim the beauty of its +colours. A slight colour flushed Abby's cheek, but her quiet remained +the same. It was some time before she ventured on the play-ground, and +then it was only to stand aside, and look on, for we were slow in +asking her to join us. + +On one occasion we had a harder arithmetic lesson than usual, +completely baffling our small brains. Upon comparing notes at recess, +none of us had mastered it. + +"I'll ask Abby of her success," said one of my intimate associates. + +"It is quite unlikely she has," I replied; "do stay here; besides, +what if she has?" + +"I _will_ go," she answered. + +Away she went, and as it appeared, Abby and she were the only members +of the class ready for recitation. Abby had been more successful than +the rest of us, and kindly helped my friend to scale the difficulties +of the lesson. + +"Shall we ask Abby to join the sleigh-ride?" asked one of the girls, +who was getting a subscription for a famous New Year's ride. + +"Judging from her dress," I said, "if she goes, we must _give_ her the +ride." + +"But how will it do to leave her out?" they asked. + +"She does not of course expect to be asked to ride with us," I said; +"she is evidently of a poor family." + +As a sort of leader in school, my words were influential, and poor +Abby was left out. How often did I contrast my white hands and warm +gloves with the purple fingers and cheap mittens of my neighbour Abby. +How miserable I should be with such working hands and no gloves. + +By-and-by I took to patronizing her. "She is really a very nice +creature, and ought to join us more in our plays," we said. So we used +to make her "one of us" in the play-ground. In fact, I began to thaw +towards her very considerably. There was something in Abby which +called out our respect. + +One Saturday afternoon, as I was looking out of the window, wishing +for something to do, my mother asked me to join her in a little walk. +On went my new cloak, warm furs, and pink hat, and in a trice I was +ready. We went first to the stores, where I was very glad to be met by +several acquaintances in my handsome winter dress. At last I found my +mother turning off into less frequented thoroughfares. + +"Where, mother," I asked, "in this vulgar part of the town?" + +"Not vulgar, my dear," she said. "A very respectable and industrious +part of our population live here." + +"Not fashionable, certainly," I added. + +"And not vulgar because not fashionable, by any means," she said; for +you may be sure my false and often foolish notions were not gained +from her. She stopped before a humble-looking house, and entered the +front door. + +"Where are you going?" I asked with much curiosity. + +She gently opened a side door, and hesitated a moment on the +threshold. + +"Caroline, come in," said a voice from within. "I am very happy to see +you." + +"Pray, don't rise, dear," said my mother, going forward and +affectionately kissing a sick lady who sat in a rocking chair. "You +look better than when I saw you before. Do not exert yourself." + +I was introduced, and I fancied the invalid looked at me with a sort +of admiring surprise as she took my hand and hoped I should prove +worthy of such a mother. Then, while my mother and she were talking, I +sat down and took notes with my eyes of everything in the room. It +looked beautifully neat, and the furniture evidently had seen better +days. By-and-by mother asked for her daughter. + +"Gone out on some errands," said the sick lady. "The dear child is an +inexpressible blessing to me," and tears filled her eyes. + +"A mother might well be thankful for such a daughter. She is a pattern +_my_ child might safely imitate." + +I thought I should be exceedingly glad to see the person my mother was +so willing I should copy. + +"She will return soon," said the invalid. "She has gone to carry some +work which she has contrived to do in her leisure moments. The +self-sacrifice of the child is wonderful. She seems to desire nothing +that other girls of her age generally want. A little while ago, an +early friend who had found me out and befriended me as you have +done"--tears came into the speaker's eyes--"sent her a handsome winter +dress. 'O mother,' she said, 'this is too expensive for me, when you +want some warm flannel so.' I told her it was just what she needed. A +few days afterwards she went out and came home with a roll of flannel +and a calico dress. 'See, mother,' she said, 'I shall enjoy this +calico a hundred times more than the finest dress in the world, when +you can have your flannel.' Excuse me for telling it, but you know a +mother's heart. There is her step; she is coming." + +The outer door opened. How I longed to see the comer! "A perfect +angel," I thought, "so generous, so disinterested, so good; I should +love her." The latch was lifted. A young girl entered, and my +school-fellow Abby stood before me! I could have sunk into the earth +for very shame. How wicked my pride! how false and foolish my +judgments! Oh, how mean did my fine winter dress appear before the +plain _sixpenny calico_! + +I was almost sure my mother had managed all this, for she had a way of +making me see my faults, and making me desire to cure them, without +ever saying much directly herself. This, however, had not come about +by her intervention; God taught me by his providence. + +As we walked home, my mother gave me an account of Mrs. G----, an +early friend who made an imprudent marriage. But that story is no +matter here. I will only add, my judgment of people was formed ever +after according to a better standard than the dress they wore, and +that Abby and I became intimate friends. + + + + +A WESTMORELAND STORY. + + +Who among my little readers are not older than ten years? Come and I +shall tell you a story of what happened to six poor children, all +under that age, about fifty years ago. It will be a good lesson for us +all, to see what God helped one brave little girl to do. + +Agnes Green was nine years old, and had five brothers and sisters +younger than herself. Their father was a respectable working man, and +they all lived in a small cottage in a wild valley of the mountains of +Westmoreland. If you take a good map of England, and look in the north +for Westmoreland, you may see Grasmere marked. It is the name of a +beautiful valley and also of a lake and a village in it. Beyond this +is a smaller valley called Easdale, quite surrounded by high hills, +with just one narrow opening into Grasmere. Here, in a lonely cottage, +the Greens lived. In fair weather the older children could go to the +Grasmere school. Their mother did all she could to keep them neat and +comfortable; but she could not afford to have a servant, and so little +Agnes was taught to do many more things than are common at her age. +She was a very good and clever child, and learned to milk the cow, +mend the fire, cook the dinner, nurse the little ones--do all that was +possible for her age and strength. Which of you is at all like her? +You may say, perhaps, that there is no need for _you_ to learn such +things. But you cannot begin too soon to be useful. Had poor Agnes +been as helpless as some of you, she and her brothers and sisters +must have died of cold and hunger in the sad time I am going to tell +you of. + +One winter day, Mr. and Mrs. Green had business which made them very +anxious to go to a farm-house at some distance from Easdale. There was +snow on the ground, but the morning was fine; and to save a long road +round by Grasmere, they determined to take a short cut right over the +mountains, which they had sometimes done before. So Mrs. Green made +everything straight for the day, bidding Agnes take good care of the +little ones, and expect her and their father back in the evening +before dark; and then both parents kissed the children, and set out on +the journey, from which they were never to return. They got safe to +the farm, where a number of people were assembled at a sale, did their +business, and said they would go home by the same way, although many +of their friends advised them not to attempt it, for more snow was +evidently coming on. + +Evening came, and Agnes made a bright peat fire, which all the +children gathered round, expecting every minute to hear their parents' +voices at the door. But it began to get dark and late, and still they +did not come. Agnes had often heard of the dangers of snow among the +hills, and she soon got uneasy. Her little brothers were afraid too, +though they hardly knew for what. They listened to every sound of the +wind; they started at times, thinking it was their father's step; but +all in vain. At last Agnes said they must go to bed; and as they had +all been well trained to be obedient, they came and said their prayers +at her knees, and then went to rest with fearful hearts. + +Next morning, when Agnes looked out, she saw there had been a heavy +fall of snow, so that the cottage was almost shut up, and it would be +impossible for them even to reach the nearest neighbours. And, oh! +there was no sign of their dear father and mother's return. She had a +lingering hope that they might have been detained all night at +Grasmere; but her fears were far greater. It was, indeed, a terrible +situation for six little children to be left in, and her mind being +advanced beyond her years, she felt all the danger. But she knew where +to look for help; and He who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for +ever, heard the cry of this forsaken child, and gave her wisdom and +ability for her time of need, as truly as he gave to Solomon on the +throne of Israel, long ages before. + +She wound up the clock, dressed the infants, and made the older +children come and say their prayers as usual. She knew that their +greatest danger would be that of starvation, should the storm last +long. Their mother had left plenty of milk in the house, and Agnes +scalded it carefully, to prevent it turning sour. Then she examined +the meal-chest, and finding there was not much in it, she put all +except the babies (these were little twins) on a short allowance of +porridge, but baked some flour cakes as a kind of treat. Then, as the +day went on, she took courage to open the door, and with her brothers +got as far as the peat-stack at the cottage side, and among them they +managed to carry within doors as many peats as would keep up the fire +for a week. She examined the potatoes, which were buried among +withered ferns; but as there were not many, only brought in enough for +a day, afraid of heat spoiling them. + +Then she thought of the cow, and made her way to the byre. She milked +the poor animal, but got very little from her, and had great +difficulty in pulling down hay out of the loft for her to eat; +besides, it was getting dark, and poor Agnes felt very frightened and +unhappy. So she was thankful to get into the cottage again, and, +barring the door, she put the infants comfortably to bed, and allowed +the others to sit up with her until midnight, in the faint hope that +some token of their dear parents not being lost might reach them +before then. It was a wild night of wind and snow, and though the +little watchers sometimes fancied they heard voices in the stormy +blast, when the lull came, all was silence. Agnes did what she could +to keep the snow from drifting in below the door or through a chink of +the window, and also to make sure that the fire would not go out, and +then they sadly went to bed. + +Next morning the snow-drifts were higher than ever! There was no +possibility of going out; but the brave little mother--for so we may +call her--still kept her family quiet and comfortable--never omitting +the morning and evening prayers, and struggling hard against her own +fears and sorrows. + +At last, either on the third or fourth day, I am not sure which, the +snow-drifts had changed in such a way that Agnes thought it might be +possible to try the road to Grasmere. Her brothers went with her part +of the way, till they saw she was safe, and then went back to the +little ones, and Agnes went to the nearest cottage. When the poor +weeping child told her sad story, the good people were overcome with +astonishment, distress, and sympathy. The news spread like lightning +through Grasmere, that Mr. and Mrs. Green had not been seen by their +children since the day of the sale at Langdale. Before an hour had +passed, all the men in the parish gathered together, arranged the best +plans for a search, and then dispersed over the mountains. In the +state of the weather, it was a dangerous duty, and great was the +anxiety of their wives and mothers left at home. The men returned at +night, without any success, and this went on for several days. They +willingly gave up all other work, and morning after morning set out on +their toilsome, sorrowful pilgrimage, while the poor orphans, of +course, were most tenderly cared for now. At length some one thought +of taking sagacious dogs up the hills to help the search; and on the +fifth day, about noon, a loud shout, echoed by the rocks, and repeated +from one band of men to another, told the women in the valley that the +bodies were found. Poor John Green lay at the foot of a precipice, +over which he had fallen; his wife, whom he had wrapped in his own +greatcoat, was found above. They had wandered far out of the right +course, and must have died in the darkness of that first stormy night, +while their children were watching for them round the fire at home. + +They had been such respectable, worthy people, that their loss was +greatly lamented, and rich and poor were alike desirous to help and +care for the orphans. You will ask what became of Agnes afterwards. I +cannot tell you. If she is alive now, she must be an old woman; but +she can never have forgotten the story of her parents' death, and I +trust she has never forgotten how the Father of the fatherless was +then her helper and protector. + +Let me point out only two lessons from this sad tale. One is, that if +God be with us, we need fear no evil. Can you think of anything more +dreadful than to be left shut up in the snow-storm, as these children +were, with their parents dying on the wild hills above? Yet God did +not forsake them. He sent no angel, he wrought no miracle for their +deliverance; but he gave wisdom and courage to the little girl, in her +time of sore distress and danger. And so every one of you, if you +trust in Him, may be sure of finding the promise fulfilled--"As thy +days, so shall thy strength be." + +Another lesson is, the happiness of being loving towards one another, +and obedient to those older than yourselves. Had these children been +like many others, quarrelsome and unruly, what a sad difference it +would have made! But they obeyed their young sister as if she had been +their mother; and so the days of captivity were far less hard to bear +for all. + +Think of these things when you remember the story of little Agnes +Green, and pray and try to be like her. + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Old Castle and Other Stories, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD CASTLE AND OTHER STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 21278.txt or 21278.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/2/7/21278/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sankar Viswanathan, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works in the International Children's Digital +Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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