Aunt Mary's new stories for young people.
Hale, Sarah Josepha Buell, 1788-1879, editor
ss/~?(i i 1< //' y /{«■*+ £ i^ - (S~>%( V 7 AUNT MARY'S NEW STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. EDITED BY Mrs. S. J. HALE. BOSTON AND CAMBRIDGE: JAMES MUNROE & COMPANY. M DCCC XLIX. I--:-: : ::::-; -; :: ',:: :: 7; :-- ■ ■ i ; i: :-..- : ;. James Mfxkoi Am Compaxt, boston : THXraSTOS, TOBRY A5D COX? PREFATORY REMARKS. The object of this little volume does not require a long or learned preface. It aims simply to instruct in accordance xcith the natural instincts of childhood. The feelings and the fancies are the medium through which this instruction will be imbibed by the efforts of their own awakened and interested minds. The author has sought to assist this natural development, and, by leading the affections the right way, to fix habits of just thought, and thus make the will obedi- ent to the moral feelings. For this purpose, we think the three stories, viz.. :hless Fairies," " The Transformations," and " The Insect Queen's Two Parties," will be found quite as effective as the tales of real life. That these marvellous stories will be read more eagerly by children, than mere matter-of-fact tales, is certainly true. Let any mother, who doubts this, tell IV PREFATORY REMARKS. the story of " Cinderella ?' to a child of five or six years old, and then repeat two or three pages of " The Little Philosopher, M or any other of the Juvenile rian books, she pleases, and see to which the child most inclines. The truth is, in childhood and early youth, the imagination and feelings are predominant. We should begin the work of instruction by addressing these faculties ; we should furnish them such mental food as will, when their own capacities have assimilated it, strengthen judgment and develop reason. To quote a late excellent work * — <; mere materials will not do ; there must be an interest excited, a stimulus to the organ, otherwise there can be no < That this little work will prove a favorite with the young, and deserve their favor, we believe, or we should not have given it the sanction of our name. S. J. Hale. * Self-Formation. CONTENTS. little sophy's visit to the school . .  VISIT TO THE SCHOOL. * ITTLE Sophy was an active, rest- less, and rather troublesome little girl about four years old, who was never so well pleased as when she was going to a place which she had never seen before, or among a collection of little girls who were strangers to her. She used to annoy her mother very much, by begging her continually to take her to see all the people who lived near. She was more like a lump of quicksilver, or a little bird, than any thing else, for it was impossible to keep her quiet a moment — tongue, feet and hands were all in motion at once. l 2 LITTLE SOPHY S VISIT TO THE SCHOOL. She had a sister Emma, a very good girl, three years older than she was. who went to a pleasant school in the village with a great many other little girls, and who would amuse Sophy every afternoon when she came home, by telling her all her little ad- ventures during the day. until Sophy began to think that going to school must certainly be the most delightful thing in the world, especially when Emma wore home, as she often did, a blue bow pinned to her shoulder, to show that she had been at the head of her classes during the day : or a white bow, to show that she had conducted herself the best. Then Sophy looked up to her with the greatest wonder and admiration, and longed to go where she might also obtain such great honors. She had, of course, often urged her mother to let her go with Emma ; but her mother had always refused, for she feared that she might be troublesome to Mrs. Holmes, the teacher. It happened, fortunately for Sophy, that Mrs. Holmes came in one evening to take tea with her mother, and the little girl, em- boldened by her kind manner, crept up to little sophy's visit to the school. 3 her, and asked her in a whisper, "if she never let very little girls like her come to her school ?,J "Yes, certainly," said Mrs. Holmes, " would you like to come. "O! very much.'* answered Sophy, :;but mother won't let me." '•I will ask her for you," said kind Mrs. Holmes, "and then I am sure she will say yes, if you will promise to be very good.*' •• Yes indeed, I will sit as still as a little mouse.*' said Sophy. ^ And so it was settled; for when Mrs. Holmes made the request herself. Sophy's mother readily consented, and the little girl went to bed perfectly happy. Probably if Mrs. Holmes had known what a restless, troublesome child she was. she would not have made the request; but she thought she was like Emma, who was a very quiet, studious girl. The day came, and Sophy took her sis- ter's hand to walk to school with her, feeling very grand and very important in her clean, white dress, and new light kid slippers. They were to remain all day, as their 4 little Sophy's visit to the school. mother was going to dine with their grand- father, and this completed Sophy's satisfac- tion. When they entered the school-room, Sophy was a little surprised to see so many girls sitting so still and busy round the room; and she was quite afraid of Mrs. Holmes, who looked so grave and dignified, not at all like the kind lady who had talked to her so much a few days before. Mrs. Holmes spoke to her very kindly, however, and smiled and told her to take her seat by her sister, which she did, and she sat so quietly for the first hour, that any one who knew her well, would have been very much surprised to have seen her. At length she began to feel very tired, and teased her sister so much by whispering to her, that Mrs. Holmes, perceiving that Emma could not study, called Sophy to her, and giving her a book of pictures, placed her in a chair by her side. For a short time, Sophy was very much interested, till a boy, about her own age, (the only one in school) brought his little chair to her side to see the pictures too. At first Sophy was delighted to have a companion, hut soon she got tired of holding the book so that he could look over with her, and before long she and the little boy were quarrelling in whispers so loud as to attract Mrs. Holmes' attention, who settled the dispute by taking the book away. Then Sophy, who found it impossible to sit still longer than five minutes at a time, and who was still very angry with James, (the little boy) turned to him with a look of great contempt, and said, "What an ugly little chair that is you are sitting in! I have one twice as pretty at home, that papa gave me. It has rock- ers, and is all covered with gold, real gold. It cost as much as a dollar. I would not sit in one like that." 11 It is not ugly at all," said James, almost crying, for he was a sickly little boy, and not at all used to being teased ; " it is a very pretty chair, and I think you are the worst girl I ever saw." Sophy's face turned very red with anger, when James said this, and she gave him so hard a push with her hand, that he almost 6 LITTLE SOPHY S YISIT TO THE SCHOOL. fell out of the chair. He screamed, and Mrs. Holmes, hearing the cause of the dis- turbance, made Sophy sit in a corner by herself so that she need not disturb any one else, and gave her the picture-book again to amuse her. But Sophy did not care much to look at pictures, without some one to tell her stories about them, so she soon dropped the book and fell fast asleep. She was so unusually quiet, that every body had forgotten her, till they heard a loud noise : and there lay little Sophy, cry- ing on the floor. She had fallen from the chair, but fortunately had not hurt herself much, though she was very much fright- ened. Mrs. Holmes took her in her lap, and bathed her forehead, which was a little bruised, with cold water; and when, after crying a few minutes, she fell asleep again, she laid her gently down on a wide bench, with a shawl folded for a pillow, and told Emma to sit by her, to prevent her from falling again. In the mean time twelve o'clock came, and all the scholars ran out to play for an hour, while poor little Sophy, who had ex- LITTLE 80FHTS VISIT TO THE SCHOOL. < pected to enjoy herself so much during the play-time, lay the whole hour sound asleep. s enough when she awoke and found it out It was as much as Emma could do to pacify her, but in the midst of complain ..anced at James, and for- got in new desires her old troubles. He had gone during the recess to his mother, who lived very near, and told her, sual, all the occurrences of the mor:. and how badly little Sophy had treated him. But his mother had talked to him so seriously and kindly about the bad temper he had hat he had resolved to make up for it. So he had carried, with a great deal of exertion, his prettiest little rocking- chair over to the school, intending to tell Sophy that she might keep it all the a noon. He sat in his old little chair, with a book in one hand, out of which he was very busily studying, while his other hand rested on the arm of the chair which he intended for Sophy. He was suddenly disturbed by some one rudely pulling away the chair an. - my chair. I am going to have b LITTLE SOPHY'S VISIT TO THE SCHOOL. Now, though James had intended it for Sophy, he did not at all like having it taken from him in this way, so he replied, "No, it is not yours, it is mine. I brought it here myself, and you shall not have it unless I please/' "I will have it,7' said naughty Sophy, pulling with all her might to get the chair. James held it fast; and in the struggle, which was very violent though short, the arm of the chair was broken. James began to cry, and Mrs. Holmes, whose pa- tience was now almost exhausted, placed Sophy in a chair by the window, and tying her in, so that she need not fall out, told her that she must sit there the rest of the afternoon. Sophy was frightened to hear Mrs. Holmes speak so sternly, and therefore sat still for a much longer time than usual, looking out of the window. Suddenly she started. A company of the militia were out, and one of them went by the window with a red coat on and a feather in his cap. Her little brother Willy had a red tunic, and a red feather too, so she thought that this could be no other than her brother. LITTLE SOPHY'S VISIT TO THE SCHOOL. V The silly child did not stop to think that the one who went by was a tall, large man. while her brother was only two years old, and could hardly walk ; she only noticed the coat and feather, and turned in great anxiety to Mrs. Holmes. "O! Mrs. Holmes. Willy has just gone by, all by himself; he will get lost, I know he will — do let me go, or Emma, to find him." 4i0, no," said Mrs. Holmes, :*you must be mistaken — that could not have been your brother. Your mother would not let him go out by himself, besides, he could not walk so far.'? "Yes indeed, indeed it was he, Mrs. Holmes; I saw him just as plain. He must have run away, and come down here to see us. He will be lost. Oh ! do let us go and find him." Sophy seemed so positive, and in such distress, that Mrs. Holmes did not know but she might be in the right, and sent Emma out to see. Emma ran up the street, and down, and spent half an hour looking for her little brother in vain, and came back 10 L BR TO THE SCHOOL. out of breath, just as her class were taking their places to recite. Emma took her place at the head. She had kept that station of honor for a long time, and she was very desirous to retain it as long as possible. But her heart failed her to-day, for she had spent the time during which she ought to have been studying, in her wild-goose chase after her brother, and therefore felt that she knew her lesson very imperfectly. However, she managed to get through her answers with- out an absolute failure, though Mrs. Holmes seemed very much dissatisfied with her hesitation, till it came to the last and most difficult question. All in the class missed it one after the other, excepting Emma and her rival. Sarah May, who stood directly below her. Mrs. Holmes turned to Emma ; for the first time for a fortnight Emma failed, and burst into a passion of tears. rah had in the mean time found means to peep into the book and study the answer unseen by Mrs. Holmes, but not by her com- panions ; she answered, therefore, promptly and boldly, and took the much desired little sophy's visit to the school. 11 place, notwithstanding the reproachful and contemptuous glances of her companions, who would have exposed her but for fear of being called tell-tales. The blue bow was pinned on Sarah May's shoulder, and the white bow was given to one of the other little girls ; for Emma had been so much disturbed Sophy, that she had not been as quiet and studious as usual. Sophy was quite con- founded when she saw her sister crying and deprived of both the honors, and her little heart swelled with indignation when she heard how Sarah had obtained the reward. She did not find it out till they were on their way home, or she would have told Mrs. Holmes herself. She wras walking by the side of her sob- bing sister, who was surrounded by nearly all her companions, for Emma was a great favorite, trying to console her: Sarah May was walking alone, a little before them, with her head held up very high and the bow displayed on her shoulder. Little Sophy looked at it wistfully for some time ; ': Emma shall have it," thought 12 little sophy's visit to the school. she to herself, and springing forward, she caught the bow from Sarah's shoulder, and was running back with it. But Sarah was not of a disposision to part so easily with her treasure; she pursued Sophy, and being both much the older and stronger of the two, overtook her before she reached Emma, and snatching the bow from her, gave her a push which threw her directly into the middle of a puddle of muddy water in the road. Poor Sophy was helped up by her sister, and had to walk home with her face, her nice white dress, and new shoes, of which she had been so proud in the morning, all covered and dripping with muddy water ; and when she came, half angry, half ashamed, into the sitting-room, her mother could hardly help laughing at her forlorn appearance. But when Emma gave a faithful recital of the day's adventures, the mother was very sorry that she had allowed Sophy to go where she could have it in her power to disturb so many people. She talked to her so severely that poor Sophy felt quite ashamed, and offered her- little sophy's visit to the school. 13 self to send her own little chair to James, to replace the one she had broken, and begged her mother to tell Mrs. Holmes she was very sorry she had given so much trouble. Her mother did this, and Sophy tried so hard to control herself, that by the time she was old enough to go to school in earnest, Mrs. Holmes said she was almost as good a girl as Emma. THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. ^ ^ROM time immemorial a little band of fairies had had a favorite ring in Scotland, within which they had been accustomed to amuse thehiselves by dancing and singing during the long and pleasant nights of summer. It was in the south of Scotland, and in the midst of a lovely little valley, hemmed in by tall, dark mountains, and through which flowed a clear rapid stream. It is well known that the fairies do not love to leave any old and pleasant haunt, but neither do they like to find themselves too near human beings. They look upon them as curious and intrusive, and almost always make " a moonlight flitting " if their \ THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. 15 territories are invaded or approached by the dwellings of men. There were about fifty in this little band, belonging to the noblest and most aristo- cratic of the fairy races, distinguished from all the others by the size and beauty of their wings. They prided themselves upon them as men do on their birth, station, or rank. The least dimness in their brilliancy, or diminution in their size, or if the feathers hung droopingly around them, all which would happen if they failed in their duty or were guilty of any dishonorable action, was regarded with sorrow and mortification by the fairy to whom it happened, and as a token of disgrace by her associates. But if her wings dropped off, which very rarely happened, so rarely that but one or two of those in the band had ever seen one of their number wingless, this showed so great a fault that the unfortunate being to whom it happened became a perfect Pariah or out- cast, till by long and constant good behavior she had obtained permission from her queen to have them re-appear. One day one of the fairies flew breath- 16 THE FAITHLESS FAIRI: y into the ring, where they were all merrily sporting, some dancing, some swinging in the delicate flowers of the heather or hare-bell, and some trying to ice themselves with folded wings on the very point of a spear of grass, announc- ing that a number of men had assembled at the entrance of the valley, and were building a house. All was now tumult and consternation. You all know that fairies are invisible to mortal eyes, except when they wish to show themselves. So without being perceived by the workmen, they flew hastily to the place pointed out by their companion. They found her story but too true, and hovering near the men, learned that it was for a young gardener and his bride, who hoped to find it all ready for them in a few weeks. Back they flew slowly and sadly. 11 Alas, alas ! M said one. - must we leave our dear old home ? I would almost be willing to lay down my wings if they could avail us any thing. We have only this poor little spot where we have lived for centuries, and the man had the whole world THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. 17 before him. Could he choose no other plac: Thus murmuring and sighing, they reached their ring in the I :urf. and sank listlessly down. Some folded their wings closely round them, and hiding their faces with the bright, delicate plumes, shut out the sight of that which they we: soon to leave. Others permitted theirs to trail heavily after them on the damp grass as they stood gazing earnestly around. • L:: as 20 to our queen." said one. • Y sponded all eagerly. £:to our good queen.'* And they stood before her. She was not like most queens. She was always employed in some good and useful work. She was now feeding some young humming-birds, whose mother had been shot by a wanton boy. She listened to the story of her sorrowful subjects with much sympathy. " Let us not be too hasty.'* said she. *; let us wait, and if the gardener and his wife are kind and good, as they should be, we need not leave our dear home. Calm your- THE FAITHLESS FAIR. I selves, my children, and let us hope for the Smiles once more appeared, faintly but in a day or two, as the men were building at some little distance, and seldom had occasion to come near them, they began to feel once more at their e. At length the cottage, and a charming little one it s completed, and one bright sunny morning there came two young people walking up the vho stood for a few moments at the door, looking round at the lovely landscape before they entered. One was a stout young man, with a frank, kind face, the other, a gentle girl, with a countenance so full of delicate feelings and sympathies, that the fairy queen rested on her broad, superb wings to gaze on her. u Look William," said the young bride, u there is a fairy io you see it by yonder knoll ! Don't disturb it, William dear. It is so like one I left in my southern home. It makes this spot seem almost like that to m Her husband consented, with a smile, to the slight request, and in a few minutes they stepped in the house. THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. 19 The queen flew away with the joyful intelligence, and gathering her subjects around her. imparted it to them, warning them at the same time, not to molest or disturb in any way their new neighbors. This warning was not unnecessary, for some among them were not a little given to playing roguish tricks. In a little more than .a year, a lovely infant lay in its cradle in the cottage, and though the mother knew it not, a crowd of bright glowing little creatures were hovering over it, with their glancing wings, fanning it, driving away all annoying insects, and amusing it by their graceful and varied gestures. For to the eyes of innocence, they always delighted to show themselves, fancying as they did. that the rays from the clear eyes of childhood brightened and deepened the gay colors of their plumes. The fairy queen had deputed the especial charge of this child to four of her best- beloved subjects, warning them that the consequences would be dreadful to them if they neglected it. or suffered it through carelessness to injure itself. At first they THE FAITHLESS FAIEI were very much pleased with their task. and night and day watched the infant un- remittingly. The mother often wondered at finding her child, whom she had left to attend to some household occupation, lying still with a pleasant smile around his mouth, and looking intently at some vacant space, as it appeared to her. She knew not that this space was filled with beautiful little beings, who never seemed tired of amusing him. They guarded him so carefully, that he had reached his third year, and never had a tear filled his eye. If he were raising any thing hurtful to his lips, a gentle stroke of a fairy wing would dash it to the ground, while, at the same time, their rapid motions and singular attitudes would so absorb him, that he would soon forget what he had most wanted. If. in his first attempts to walk, he tottered, they held him up with ad:. of strength that no one would have dreamed they possessed ; if he ventured near a dan- gerous place, "they had a thousand gay devices to lure him away. And so the child grew in beauty and grace . and was THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. 21 the wonder of all the people who lived near. For more than two years had these tiny beings devoted themselves unwearied the labor imposed on them. When the child was three years old their task was to : but it wanted more than six months of that time, and the dreary winter coming, and most of their associates were to fly off for a to enjoy the sunny breezes of the south, while they were to be left, to perform duties which had now become very wearisome. There was but one of the four who did not murmur at the task. Leola never was known to complain while fulfilling any duty, no matter how disagreeable. And this to her had now grown delightful, for she loved the little boy with an affection only second to that with which she regarded the queen. •Let :aya. * I cannot endure the thought of being confined next winter as we have been to the close walls and heavy air of these rooms. Nothing will happen to the child — Leola will re- main, and the mother, it is time that she 22 THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. began to charge herself with the care of her boy. The cold will oblige him to remain by her side in the house, and we will return with the spring flowers. Come, sisters, think of those lovely, southern lands, and let those, who will, waste the cold time of winter here. Adieu, Leola ! come, sisters." And far away soared the lively little fairy, resting on her outspread wings in the midst of her flight, to see if she was fol- lowed. You all know how much easier it is to follow the example of those who seek their own pleasure, than of those who follow resolutely the path of duty. So you will not wonder that Leola was left alone, while the two remaining fairies spread their wings to follow Varaya. Their consciences smote them once or twice, and they half turned to go back, but the child looked so happy, playing with a wreath Leola had twined for him, that their scruples vanished. They wondered, also, what punishment their kind queen could have the heart to inflict on them, if their flight was discovered; but all thoughts of that kind faded away, when THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. 23 they found themselves in the gay vineyards of France. "Is not one day here worth the whole winter in the cold north?77 asked Varaya exultingly; and her companions unhesita* tingly agreed. But they did not remain there. They flew over the lofty hills of Spain, and rest- ing here and there to amuse and enjoy themselves, continued their course till they had crossed the blue Mediterranean, and stopped to refresh themselves among the date and palm trees of Morocco. Here, to their great delight, they found a superior race of their own species, who welcomed them with great cordiality and ceremony. " Your wings,77 said the principal fairy, " are a token of your worthiness. We receive you without any other guarantee, and welcome you with all our hearts.77 The truants were at* first a little confused. With so much disapprobation do fairies turn from those who have been faithless in their duty, that they felt, if the truth were known, that they should be driven away 24 THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. with dishonor, instead of being so kindly received. They soon, however, forgot their com- punctions in the gaiety that ensued on their arrival. Their new friends seemed to vie with each other in trying to make their visit a gay one. The truant fairies danced day and night, and said gaily to each other, that never before had they been so happy. There was to be a grand ball in honor of their arrival, and invitations were sent out far and wide, to all the fairies around, who come in crowds to pay their respects to the distinguished strangers. Varaya and her companions received all the attention with a great deal of condescension. You would have thought they were princesses, instead of simple fairies. Towards the close of the evening the strangers were requested to perform one of their peculiar dances. Pleased with the opportunity for display, they readily con- sented. A large open space was formed in the centre of the room, round which all the rest of the numerous company ranged themselves. Our three fairies placed them- THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. 25 selves in the circle, and commenced amid murmurs of " beautiful," " how graceful," " we have never seen their equal," &c. Their exultation was at its height when a cry of horror broke from the lips of Varaya. It was echoed by her two com- panions. Their wings, their pride and ornament, their badge of dignity and honor, lay drooping and discolored at their feet ! The other fairies gave but one glance and turned away. They knew that such a punishment was inflicted only on those guilty of some great fault, and, therefore, when Varaya glanced round on the faces of those near her for sympathy, she saw only amazement and horror: Every one turned from them. They approached the queen — she walked with a dignified step from the room. They heard the word " impostors " repeated from mouth to mouth — and walked with downcast heads and trembling steps from the room. They went to hide their disgrace and sorrow in the darkest recesses of the forest, and sitting down, wept and tried in vain to console each other. 3 THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. ••AJust we wander forever, exiles from our home, and shunned by all who meet 1 they: ;* we are indeed severely punished for our disobedience." Just then a dove dropped the leaf of a honeysuckle at their feet. They recognised it at once as having been plucked from a vine which was trained over the cottage porch, and hastened to examine it. They found on it a message from their queen, informing them, that their depriva- tion was in consequence of a severe acci- dent, which had happened to their charge from their neglect. That the only way to retrieve their character and recover their wings, was to devote themselves, for two years, to doing all the good they could to all with whom they might meet. At the end of that time they were to repair to the place where they now were, and if they had performed their duties faithfully, they should then find their wings restored, and be gladly welcomed home. Two years ! how long the time seemed to them, and to be spent not in pleasure or amusement, but wandering, slowly and with THE FAITHLESS FAIRIL ft difficulty, on their little delicate feet, over the sandy and desert regions around them. How they wished they had followed the example of Leola, and thus saved them- selves all this toil and mortification. But regrets were use! dd Yaraya. ;I induced you to undertake this unfortunate journey. I will endeavor to assist you as much as I can in our new labors. We have wept enough. Let us commence our work imme- diate There was a nest of young birds hid in the tall grass near them; a little snake was creeping stealthily towards it. The fairies raised a stone, and. exerting all their united strength, dashed it on the reptile's head, then drawing a little diamond da_- which the fairies always wear in their girdle, they soon killed it. Not content with this, they watched by the side of the nest till the mother returned. A little farther on. two weary travellers had laid themselves down on the grass to sleep. But their rest was disturbed by the numberless insects which buzzed around. 28 THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. For four hours the fairies busied themselves by driving away these insects and guarding the sleep of these tired wanderers, and at length the sleepers arose refreshed, and the fairies sought other occupation. They found a bee lying wounded and almost at the point of death, and nursed her as if she had been a companion. These are only the occupations of one day. For every day, for the whole two years, they did not falter or murmur at the length and difficulty of their punishment. If their fault had been great, great also was their sorrow and repentance. The two years had passed, and pale and toil-worn they stood once more under the boughs of the same tree beneath which they had received the last message from the queen. A sudden sensation of vigor and elasticity shot through their whole frames. They gazed with wondering delight at each other, and then bent over the quiet stream at their feet. There they saw themselves reflected just as they had looked when they first left their home. No longer emaciated and dejected, THE FAITHLESS FAIRIES. 29 but bright, radiant, and happy with their wings waving in the sunlight. With one impulse they rose in the air. They stopped not now on the sunny hills of Spain, nor rested in the gay vineyards of France, nor stayed in the green fields of England. Not till they alighted at the feet of their recon- ciled queen, and in the midst of their old companions, did they give rest to their wings or refreshment to their frames. 3* THE SHIPWRECK. .AMES DILLON was an Irishman, living in the north of Ireland, with his wife and two little children, John and Mary. Though they were very poor, Mrs. Dillon, who was a very good woman, took so much pains with her son and daughter, that they behaved better and knew more than any of the poor children about there. They always told the truth, and would never fight or swear, as they a great many of their companions doing : they could read very well, and were never so happy as when they could get a ry book, which was very seldom, to be sure, and sit down together to read it. They had two or three old books which THE SHIPWRECTL 31 had been given them, and which they had read till they knew them all by heart. Mr. Dillon was not a very industrious man. or perhaps they would not have been so very poor, and in America he had heard that he could earn as much money as he should want without working half as hard for it. which made him very anxious to go. but his wife could not bear the idea of leav- ing her friends and country to go among strangers, so that while she lived he gave up all idea of it. But when John was seven or eight years old. Mrs. Dillon died, and then Mr. Dillon, leaving his children with their grandmother and aunts, sailed Vraerica. His first letter told them that he l very homesick and dissatisfied, and regret- ted very much having left his home and friends, but by the time he wrote again he had found some old acquaintances, and obtained work on a canal, where, though the work was hard, the w: g ra enough to enable him to send' part of them home. : this they did not hear from him for some time, but the children lived very 32 THE SHIPWRECK. quietly and happily with their grand- mother, who continued to treat them as their mother used to do. At length, after James Dillon had been in America a little more than two years, there came a letter inclosing what seemed to them a very large sum of money, saying that he had married a very good woman, and was anxious to have his children with him again. He told their grandmother to send them out under the care of some trusty person in the next packet, and said he would meet them in New York. The children were delighted at the idea of going in a ship, and though they felt very sorry to leave their grandmother when they thought of it, yet that was very sel- dom, for they could talk of nothing but the ocean which they had seen once, and the ship which they had never seen. Their grandmother felt very much grieved at parting with them, but she was too poor to be able to keep them longer, and as it happened that an old acquaintance of hers, Thomas Delany, was going out in the next packet, she made all the necessary prepara- THE SHIPWRECK. 33 tions, and putting the children under his charge, saw them depart with the feeling that they would certainly be taken good care of during the voyage. Her last words to them were "to remember and be good children, and never tell lies or take what did not belong to them." They did not find sailing in a ship as pleasant as they had anticipated, for the steerage, or lower part of the ship, was crowded with emigrants, who were going to America, so that the air was very close, and every thing seemed dirty and uncom- fortable. Besides, the weather at first was stormy, so that the poor children were quite sick, and in short, they never felt so mise- rable in their lives ; no one seemed to pay them any attention beyond a word or two, for every body was either sick or nursing some friend who was. Thomas Delany was so ill from sea-sickness and other causes that the children had to nurse him, instead of being taken care of by him. Day and night, for nine days, John and Mary never left his bed-side when they could sit up. 34 THE SHIPWRECK. The people around them looked with astonishment and admiration, at seeing these two children devote themselves so uncomplainingly and constantly to the sick man. The most experienced nurses could hardly have taken better care of him ; not that they knew so well how to do every thing, but they were kind and gentle, and sick as they felt themselves, they never allowed a complaint to escape them. They had been taught always to think of the comfort of others before their own, and they were now proving that they had not forgot- ten the lessons they had received. When they had been at sea two weeks Thomas Delany died, and the children felt very sadly at his loss. They wept bitterly when they saw him sewed in his hammock and after a short service thrown into the sea. But as every one felt very kindly to them on account of their devotion to their friend, and showed their kind feelings, they dried their tears and were quite happy for a few days. Then there came a dreadful storm, during which every one on board the ship expected THE SHIPWRECK. 35 to go down before morning. The masts were partly carried away, and the captain was obliged to throw almost all the cargo overboard. The children clung to each other, but found it impossible to sit still, for at every motion of the vessel, they were thrown violently from one side to the other. Fortunately, the storm ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and left the ship much injured, but still in a condition to proceed slowly. Two days after the storm, however, they found themselves becalmed. For three or four days they lay perfectly still and mo- tionless. John and Mary amused them- selves by watching the strange fish that darted about the ship. Schools of porpoises, dolphins, and now and then a shark ap- peared far down in the water. But, not- withstanding all the curious things they saw, they became very tired of being cooped up in such a small place with so many men and women, the greater part of whom did nothing but scold and quarrel. When at length a breeze did spring up, it was a very slight one, and the ship made very little progress. THE SHIPWRECK. They had already been out at sea the usual length of time, and the store of pro- visions, which the emigrants had brought, had begun to fail. John's and Mary's went first, for as they had had no one to take charge of it for them, and were not old enough to be very prudent, it had been somewhat wasted. They were so obliging and kind though, that every one was wil- ling to share with them as long as any thing remained. At length famine began to stare them in the face. Many of the fami- lies in the steerage were dependent on the kindness of the captain, who did all he could for them, which was but little, and for two or three days one little biscuit apiece was all that either John or Mary could obtain. At length there came a day when they could not get any. There was but one person in the steerage who could have succored them, and this was a Mrs. Sullivan, who was going to join her husband. She had a large family of children, one of them an infant, and had brought a much greater quantity of provisions than was usual. Of THE SHIPWRECK. 37 these she had been very bountiful as long as she thought it right, but now she was reduced to one very small bag of biscuits. She could not see her children starve, so she was obliged to turn a deaf ear to all the entreaties that were made to her. She secreted them carefully, for fear they should be stolen. John and Mary lay down faint and trembling. They thought that they should never awake again, and. talked till they fell asleep from exhaustion, in feeble, broken accents, about their friends and their home in Ireland. John was the first to awake in the morning. It was quite dark, but yet, as he looked around, he could perceive by the light of the stars that all were sleeping soundly. At least he thought so at first, but after looking a short time, he saw a dark figure groping about Mrs. Sullivan's bed. He touched Mary and pointed to the object. "It is Jack Kelly; he is getting the biscuit," whispered Mary. The whisper startled the thief. He turned quickly, and seeing John raised on 4 38 THE SHIPWRECK. his elbow watching him, he glided to him, and threatening him with a knife he held, if he betrayed him, attempted to bribe them both to silence by offering them each a biscuit. John's eyes sparkled with joy, and he reached out his hand to take it, but Mary drew it back. " No, no, John," said she, " remember what grandmother told us. Those are not ours or Jack Kelly's." " They are mine now at all events," said Jack, " and if you are such fools, why you'll have to starve, that's all." He was about to creep away to eat his stolen biscuit before the others awoke, but the whispering had roused several around, and one after the other raised their heads to see what was the matter. "It is nothing," said Jack, vexed and frightened at the disturbance, " nothing but little Mary here was sick, and I came to see if I could not help her." By this time nearly all were awake, for want of food made them sleep more lightly than usual, and as some began to dress themselves, Jack saw that all he could do THE SHIPWRECK. 39 was to conceal the biscuit for the present, and eat them when he could obtain a chance. Shaking his fist menacingly at the trembling children, and repeating his threat in a wisper, he went away. John and Mary dressed themselves as quickly as possible, and dragged their trembling limbs into a corner of the cabin. There they sank down, and began to con- sult about what they had better do in this emergency. Mary thought they ought to tell Mrs. 