Cousin Lucy's Conversations

CONVERSATION X
JOHNNY

Miss Anne was very much pleased to see the little chicken. She sent Royal out after a small, square piece of board. While he was gone, she got a small flake of cotton batting, and also an old work-basket, from the upper shelf of her closet. Then, when Royal came in with the board, she put the cotton upon it, shaping it in the form of a nest. She put the chicken upon this nest, and then turned the basket down over it, which formed a sort of cage, to keep the little prisoner from getting away. Royal and Lucy could look through the open-work of the basket, and see him.

But Miss Anne, though pleased with the chicken, was very sorry to find that Royal had so monopolizing a spirit. A monopolizing spirit is an eager desire to get for ourselves, alone, that which others ought to have a share of. Royal wanted to own the hen and chickens himself, and to exclude, or shut out, Lucy from all share of them. He wished to monopolize them. Too eager a desire to get what others have, is sometimes called covetousness. Miss Anne resolved to have a conversation with Royal about his monopolizing and covetous disposition.

She did not, however, have a very good opportunity until several days after this; but then a circumstance occurred which naturally introduced the subject.

The circumstance was this.

The children were taking a walk with Miss Anne. They went to a considerable distance from the house, by a path through the woods, and came at length to the banks of a mill stream. The water tumbled over the rocks which filled the bed of the stream. There was a narrow road along the bank, and Miss Anne turned into this road, and walked along up towards the mill, which was only a short distance above.

They saw, before them, at a little distance, a boy about as large as Royal, cutting off the end of a long, slender pole.

“O, see what a beautiful fishing-pole that boy has got!” said Royal.

“Is that a fishing-pole?” said Lucy.

Just then the boy called out, as if he was speaking to somebody in the bushes.

“Come, George; ain’t you most ready?”

“Yes,” answered George, “I have got mine just ready; but I want to get a little one for Johnny.”

“O, never mind Johnny,” said the other boy; “he can’t fish.”

By this time, the children had advanced so far that they could see George and Johnny, in a little open place among the bushes. George was about as large as the other boy; and he was just finishing the trimming up of another pole, very much like the one which the children had seen first. There was a very small boy standing by him, who, as the children supposed, was Johnny. He was looking on, while George finished his pole.

“I would not get Johnny one,” said the boy in the road. “He can’t do any thing with it.”

“No,” said George, “but he will like to have one, so that he can make believe fish; shouldn’t you, Johnny?”

“Yes,” said Johnny; or rather he said something that meant yes; for he could not speak very plain.

“Well,” said the boy in the road, “I am not going to wait any longer.” He accordingly shut up his knife, put it into his pocket, and walked along.

George scrambled back into the bushes, and began to look about for a pole for Johnny. Miss Anne and the children were now opposite to them.

“Johnny,” said Miss Anne, “do you expect that you can catch fishes?”

Johnny did not answer, but stood motionless, gazing upon the strangers in silent wonder.

Miss Anne smiled, and walked on, and the children followed her. Presently George and Johnny came up behind them, – George walking fast, and Johnny trotting along by his side. When they had got before them a little way, they turned out of the road into a path which led down towards the stream, which here was at a little distance from the road. The path led in among trees and bushes; and so Miss Anne and the children soon lost sight of them entirely.

“George seems to be a strange sort of a boy,” said Miss Anne.

“Why?” asked Royal.

“Why, he cannot be contented to have a fishing-pole himself, unless little Johnny has one too.”

“Is that very strange?” asked Royal.

“I thought it was rather unusual,” said Miss Anne. “Boys generally want to get things for themselves; but I did not know that they were usually so desirous to have their brothers gratified too.”

“I do,” said Royal; “that is, I should, if I had a brother big enough.”

“You have a sister,” said Miss Anne.

“Well,” said Royal, “if I was going a fishing, and Lucy was going too, I should want to have her have a fishing-pole as well as I.”

“It is not always so with boys, at any rate,” said Miss Anne. “And that makes me think of a curious thing that happened once. A little boy, whom I knew, had a beautiful picture-book spoiled by a little gray dog, in a very singular way.”

“How was it?” said Royal.

“Tell us, Miss Anne,” said Lucy; “tell us all about it.”

“Well, this boy’s father bought him a very beautiful picture-book, with colored pictures in it, and brought it home, and gave it to him. And the next day the little gray dog spoiled it entirely.”

“How?” said Lucy.

“Guess.”

“Why, he bit it, and tore it to pieces with his teeth, I suppose,” said Lucy.

“No,” said Miss Anne.

“Then he must have trampled on it with his muddy feet,” said Royal.

“No,” said Miss Anne, “it could not be in any such way, for it was not a live dog.”

“Not a live dog!” said Lucy.

“No, it was a little glass dog, – gray glass; only he had black ears and tail.”

“I don’t see how he could spoil a book,” said Royal.

“He did,” answered Miss Anne.

“The book gave Joseph a great deal of pleasure before the dog came, and after that, it was good for nothing to him.”

“Joseph?” said Royal; “who was he?”

“Why, he was the little boy that had the book. Didn’t I tell you his name before?”

“No,” said Royal; “but tell us how the dog spoiled the book.”

“Why, you must understand,” said Miss Anne, “that Joseph had a little sister at home, named Mary; and when their father brought home the book to Joseph, he had nothing for Mary. But the next day, he was in a toy-shop, and he saw this little glass dog, and he thought that it would be a very pretty little present for Mary. So he bought it, and carried it home to her.”

“Well, Miss Anne, tell on,” said Lucy, when she found that Miss Anne paused, as if she was not going to say anything more.

“Why, that is about all,” said Miss Anne, “only that he gave the dog to Mary.”

“But you said that the dog spoiled Joseph’s book.”

“So it did. You see, when Joseph came to see the dog, he wanted it himself, so much that he threw his book down upon the floor, and came begging for the dog; and he could not take any pleasure at all in the book after that.”

“Is that all?” said Royal; “I supposed it was going to be something different from that.”

“Then you don’t think it is much of a story!”

“No,” said Royal.

“Nor I,” said Lucy.

“Well, now, I thought,” said Miss Anne, “that that was rather a singular way for a dog to spoil a picture-book.”

There was a moment’s pause after Miss Anne had said these words; and then, an instant afterwards, the whole party came suddenly out of the woods; and the mill, with a bridge near it, crossing the stream, came into view.

“O, there is a bridge,” said Lucy; “let us go over that bridge.”

“Well,” said Royal, “so we will.”

They walked on towards the bridge; but, just before they got to it, Royal observed that there were ledges of rocks below the bridge, running out into the water; and he said that he should rather go down upon those rocks.

Miss Anne said that she should like to go down there too, very much, if she thought it was safe; and she concluded to go down, slowly and carefully, and see. They found that, by exercising great caution, they could advance farther than they had supposed. Sometimes Royal, who was pretty strong, helped Miss Anne and Lucy down a steep place; and sometimes they had to step over a narrow portion of the torrent. They found themselves at last all seated safely upon the margin of a rocky island, in the middle of the stream, with the water foaming, and roaring, and shooting swiftly by, all around them.

“There,” said Royal, “isn’t this a good place?”

“Yes,” said Lucy; “I never saw the water run so much before.”

“Children,” said Miss Anne, “look down there!”

“Where?” said Royal.

“There, upon the bank, under the trees, down on that side of the stream, – a little below that large, white rock.”

“Some boys,” said Royal. “They’re fishing.”

“I see ’em,” said Lucy.

“Yes,” said Royal, “they are the same boys we saw in the road.”

“Yes,” said Miss Anne; “and don’t you see Johnny running about with his pole?”

“Where?” said Lucy; “which is Johnny?”

“That’s he,” said Royal, “running about. Now he’s gone down to a sandy place upon the shore. See, he’s reaching out with his pole, as far as he can, upon the water; he is trying to reach a little piece of board that is floating by. There, he has got it, and is pulling it in.”

“I am glad George got him a pole,” said Miss Anne.

“So am I,” said Royal.

“And so am I,” said Lucy.

“It seems George is happier himself, if Johnny has something to make him happy too; but the other boy isn’t.”

“How do you know that he isn’t?” asked Lucy.

“Why, he did not want George to stop. He had got a pole himself, and he did not care any thing about Johnny’s having one.”

“Yes,” said Royal, “so I think.”

“Some children,” said Miss Anne, “when they have anything that they like, always want their brothers and sisters to have something too; and George seems to be one of them.

“And that makes me think,” continued Miss Anne, “of the story of the horse and the picture-book.”

“What is the story?” said Royal.

“Why, it is a story of a little wooden horse, which, instead of spoiling a picture-book, as the dog did, made it much more valuable.”

“Tell us all about it,” said Lucy.

“Very well, I will,” said Miss Anne. “There was once a boy named David. His uncle sent him, one new year’s day, a picture-book. There was a picture on every page, and two on the cover. He liked his picture-book very much indeed; but one thing diminished the pleasure he took in looking at it.”

“What do you mean by diminished?” asked Lucy.

“Why, made it smaller,” said Royal.

“Yes,” said Miss Anne; “and the circumstance which made his pleasure in the picture-book less than it otherwise would have been, was, that his little brother Georgie had no new book or plaything. David showed Georgie his book, and sometimes let him have it by himself; but he would have liked it better, if Georgie had had a present of his own.”

“And now about the horse?” said Royal.

“Well, – that evening, when these boys’ father came home to supper, he brought something tied up in a paper, which, he said, was for Georgie. David took it, and ran to find Georgie, – hoping that it was some present for him. Georgie opened it, and found that it was a handsome wooden horse, on wheels, – with a long red cord for a bridle, to draw him about by. David was very much pleased at this; and now he could go and sit down upon his cricket, and look at his book, with a great deal more pleasure; for Georgie had a present too. So, you see, the horse made the picture-book more valuable.”

The children sat still a short time, thinking of what Miss Anne had said; and at length Royal said,

“Are these stories which you have been telling us true, Miss Anne?”

“No,” said Miss Anne, quietly.

“Then you made them up.”

“Yes,” said Miss Anne.

“What for?” said Lucy.

“Why, to show you and Royal,” said Miss Anne, “the difference between a monopolizing and covetous spirit, and one of generosity and benevolence, which leads us to wish to have others possess and enjoy, as well as ourselves.”

Royal, pretty soon after this, proposed that he and Lucy should find some sticks upon the little island, where they were sitting, and throw them upon the water, and see them sail down; and they did accordingly amuse themselves in this way for some time. Lucy was very much amused to see the sticks shoot along the rapids, and dive down the little cascades among the rocks. Miss Anne helped them throw in one piece of plank, which had drifted down from the mill, and which was too large and heavy for them to lift alone. They watched this for some time, as it floated away far down the stream.

At last, it was time to go home; and they all went back, very carefully, over the stones, until they got back to the shore; and then they walked home by a new way, over a hill, where they had a beautiful prospect.

That night, just before sundown, when Royal and Lucy went out to see their chickens, Royal told Lucy that she might have the little black chicken and two others for her own.

“Well,” said Lucy, clapping her hands, “and will you let me keep them in your coop?”

“Yes,” replied Royal; “or I will let you own the coop with me; – you shall have a share in the coop, in proportion to your share of the chickens.”

“In proportion?” said Lucy; “what does that mean?”

“Why, just as much of the coop as you have of the chickens,” said Royal.

“Well,” said Lucy, “how much of the coop will it be, for three chickens?”

“O, I don’t know,” said Royal.

“So much?” said Lucy, putting her hand upon the side of the coop, so as to mark off a small portion of it.

“O, I don’t mean,” said Royal, “to divide it. We will own it all together, in partnership; only you shall have a small share, just in proportion to your chickens.”

Lucy did not understand this very well, but she thought more about the chickens than about the coop; and she began to look at them, one by one, carefully, to consider which she should have for hers. She chose two, besides the black one; and she said that she meant to get Miss Anne to name them for her.

Royal took a great deal of pleasure, after this, every time that he came out to see his chickens, in observing how much interest Lucy took, every day, in coming to see her chickens, and how much enjoyment it afforded her to be admitted thus to a share in the property.

CONVERSATION XI
GETTING LOST

One afternoon, a short time after dinner, Lucy was sitting upon a seat under a trellis, near the door which led towards the garden, when her mother came out.

“Lucy,” said she, “I have got some rather bad news for you.”

“What is it?” said Lucy.

“I am rather afraid to tell you, for fear it will make you cry.”

“O no, mother; I shall not cry,” said Lucy.

“Well,” said her mother, “we shall see. The news is, that we are all going away this afternoon, and are going to leave you at home.”

“What, all alone?” said Lucy.

“Not quite alone; for Joanna will be here,” said her mother.

“Where are you going?” said Lucy.

“We are going away, to ride.”

“Why can’t I go too?” said Lucy.

“I can explain the reason better when we come back,” answered her mother.

Lucy did not cry; though she found it very hard to refrain. Her father and mother, and Miss Anne and Royal, were all going, and she had to remain at home. They were going, too, in a kind of barouche; and when it drove up to the door, Lucy thought there would be plenty of room for her. She found it hard to submit; but submission was made somewhat easier by her mother’s not giving her any reasons. When a mother gives a girl reasons why she cannot have something which she is very strongly interested in, they seldom satisfy her, for she is not in a state of mind to consider them impartially. It only sets her to attempting to answer the reasons, and thus to agitate and disturb her mind more than is necessary. It is therefore generally best not to explain the reasons until afterwards, when the mind of the child is in a better condition to feel their force.

After the barouche drove away, Lucy went out into the kitchen to see Joanna; and she asked Joanna what she should do. Joanna advised her to go out and play in the yard until she had got her work done, and then to come in and sit with her. Lucy did so. She played about in the grass until Joanna called from the window, and told her that she was ready.

Then Lucy came in. She found the kitchen all arranged in good order, and Joanna was just sitting down before a little table, at the window, to sew. Lucy got her basket of blocks, and began to build houses in the middle of the floor.

“Joanna,” said she, after a little while, “I wish you would tell me something more about when you were a farmer’s daughter.”

“Why, I am a farmer’s daughter now,” said Joanna.

“But I mean when you were a little girl, and lived among the stumps,” said Lucy.

“Well,” said Joanna, – “what shall I tell you about? Let me see. – O, I’ll tell you how I got lost in the woods, one day.”

“Ah, yes,” said Lucy, “I should like to hear about that very much indeed.”

“One day,” said Joanna, “my father was going a fishing, and my brother was going with him.”

“The same one that made your hen-coop?” asked Lucy.

“No, he was a bigger one than that. I asked my father to let me go too. At first he said I was too little; but afterwards he said I might go.”

“How big were you?” said Lucy.

“I was just about your age,” said Joanna. “My mother said I could not possibly walk so far; but father said I should not have to walk but a little way, for he was going down the brook in a boat.

“So father concluded to let me go, and we started off, – all three together. We went across the road, and then struck right into the woods.”

“Struck?” said Lucy.

“Yes; that is, we went right in.”

“O,” said Lucy.

“We walked along by a sort of cart-road a little while, until we came to a place where I just began to see some water through the trees. Father said it was the brook.

“When we got down to it, I found that it was a pretty wide brook; and the water was deep and pretty still. There was a boat in the brook. The boat was tied to a tree upon the shore; my brother got in, and then my father put me in; and afterwards he untied the boat, and threw the rope in, and then got in himself. Then there were three of us in.”

“Wasn’t you afraid?” said Lucy.

“Yes, I was afraid that the boat would tip over; but father said that it wouldn’t. But he said that I must sit still, if I didn’t want the boat to upset. So I sat as still as I could, and watched the trees and bushes, moving upon the shore.”

“I wish I could go and sail in a boat,” said Lucy.

“It is very pleasant,” said Joanna, “when the water is smooth and still. The branches of the trees hung over the water where we were sailing along, and one time we sailed under them, and my brother broke me off a long willow stick.

“After a time, we came to the end of the brook, where it emptied into the pond.”

“Emptied?” said Lucy.

“Yes; that is, where it came out into the pond.”

“Do brooks run into ponds?” asked Lucy.

“Not always,” said Joanna; “sometimes they run into other larger brooks, and sometimes into rivers, and sometimes into ponds. This brook ran into a pond; and when we came to the end of the brook, our boat sailed right out into a pond. This pond was the place where they were going to catch the fishes.”

“Why didn’t they catch the fishes in the brook?” asked Lucy.

“I believe they could not catch such large fishes there,” said Joanna. “At any rate, they went out into the pond. There was a point of land at the mouth of the brook, and when my father had got out around this point, he began to fish.”

“Did he catch any?” asked Lucy.

“He caught one, and my brother caught one; and after that, they could not catch any more for some time. At last, my father said it was not worth while for them both to stay there all the afternoon, and that my brother might go back home by a road across through the woods, and he would stay and see what luck he should have himself. He said, too, that I might stay with him, if I chose.”

“And did you?” asked Lucy.

“No,” replied Joanna. “At first, I thought I should like to stay with father; but then I had already become pretty tired of sitting in the boat with nothing to do, and so I concluded to go with my brother. Besides, I wanted to see what sort of a road it was across through the woods.

“My father then took his line in, and paddled the boat to the shore, to let me and my brother get out. Then he went back to his fishing-ground again, and let down his line. As for my brother and myself, we went along a little way, until we came to a large pine-tree, which stood not very far from the shore of the pond; and there we turned into the woods, and walked along together.”

“And was it in these woods that you got lost?” said Lucy.

“Not exactly,” said Joanna; “but I will tell you all about it. We went along a little way without any difficulty, but presently we came to a bog.”

“What is a bog?” asked Lucy.

“Why, it is a low, wet place, where wild grass and rushes grow. The path led through this bog, and brother said he did not think that I could get along very well.”

“I should not think that he could get along himself,” said Lucy.

“Yes,” answered Joanna, “he could get along by stepping upon the stones and hummocks of grass; and he tried to carry me, at first; but he soon found that it would be a great deal of work, and he said that I had better go back to my father, and get into the boat, and stay with him.

“I said, ‘Well;’ and he carried me back as far as to hard ground; and then he told me to go back by the path, until I came to the pine-tree; and then he said I should only have to follow the shore of the pond, a short distance, when I should come in sight of father’s boat.”

“Yes, but how could you get into the boat,” said Lucy, “without getting wet, when it was so far from the shore?”

“O, I could call to my father, and he would come to the shore and take me in,” said Joanna.

“Well,” said Lucy, “tell on.”

“I walked along the path, without any trouble, until I came to the great pine-tree, where I saw a woodpecker.”

“A woodpecker?” said Lucy.

“Yes; that is, a kind of a bird which pecks the bark and wood of old trees, to get bugs and worms out of it, to eat.”

“I should not think that bugs and worms would be good to eat,” said Lucy.

“They are good for woodpeckers,” said Joanna. “This woodpecker was standing upon the side of the great pine-tree, clinging to the bark. He has sharp claws, and can cling to the bark upon the side of a tree. I looked at him a minute, and then went on.

“I followed the shore of the pond, until I came to the place where we had left my father fishing; but when I looked out upon the water there, the boat was nowhere to be seen. I was very much frightened.”

“Where was he gone?” said Lucy.

“I did not know then,” said Joanna; “but I learned afterwards that he had found that he could not catch any fishes there, and so he concluded to go up the brook again, and see if he could not catch any there. I did not know this then, and I could not think what had become of him. I was frightened. I did not see how I could ever find my way home again. What do you think I did first?”

“I don’t know,” said Lucy. “What was it?”

“I called out, Father! Father! Father! as loud as I could call; and then I listened for a reply, – but I could not hear any.”

“Then what did you do?” asked Lucy.

“Why, I began to consider whether I could not go home the way that my brother had gone, by walking along through the mud, even if it was deep. I thought I had better get my feet wet and muddy than stay there in the woods and starve.”

“Well, did you go that way?” asked Lucy.

“No,” said Joanna; “on thinking more of it, I was afraid to go. I did not know but that the mud would be deep enough somewhere to drown me; and then, besides, I did not know that I could find the way, any farther than I had gone with my brother.

“The next plan I thought of, was to follow the shore of the brook up. You remember that we came down the brook, in the boat; and of course I knew that, if I went up the brook, either on the water or close to it, upon the shore, I should be going back towards home. I tried this way, but I found that I could not get along.”

“Why couldn’t you get along?” asked Lucy.

“Because,” said Joanna, “the trees and bushes were so thick, and the ground was so wet and swampy, in some places, that I couldn’t get through. Then I came back, and sat down upon a log, near the shore of the pond, and began to cry.”

“And didn’t you ever get home?” said Lucy.

“Certainly,” said Joanna, laughing, “or else how could I be here now to tell the story?”

“O! – yes,” said Lucy. “But how did you get home?”

“Why, pretty soon I thought that the best plan would be for me to stay just where I was, for I thought that as soon as my father and brother should both get home, and find that I was not there, they would come after me; and if they came after me, I knew they would come, first of all, to the place where my brother had told me to go, near the mouth of the brook. So I concluded that I would wait patiently there until they came.

“I waited all the afternoon, and they did not come; and at last the sun went down, and still I was there alone.”

“Why did not they come for you sooner?” asked Lucy.

“Why, the reason was, that my father did not get home until night. When he went up the brook, he found a place where he could catch fishes quite fast; and so he staid there all the afternoon. He thought I was safe at home with my brother. And my brother, who was at home all this time, thought that I was safe in the boat with my father.

“When it began to grow dark, I thought I should have to stay in the woods all night; but then I thought that, at any rate, they would come for me the next morning; and I began to look around for a good place to lie down and go to sleep. But, just then, I heard a noise, like a noise in the water, through the woods; and I looked that way, and saw a light glancing along through the trees. It was my father and brother coming down the brook in the boat. I called out to them as loud as I could, and they heard me and answered. They came round the point of land, and then up to the shore where I was, and took me in. And so I got home.”

Here Lucy drew a long breath, very much relieved to find that Joanna was safe home again.

“What did you do when you got home?” said she.

“I don’t recollect very well,” said Joanna, “only I remember that my mother let me sit up pretty late, and eat some of father’s fishes, which she fried for supper.”

When Miss Anne came home that night, Lucy told her the story which Joanna had related to her. She told her while Miss Anne was putting her to bed. Lucy said that she should like to be lost in the woods.

“O no,” said Miss Anne, “you would not like the reality. It makes an interesting story to relate, but the thing itself must be very distressing.”

“Well, at any rate,” said Lucy, “I should like to sail under the trees in a boat.”

“Yes,” said Miss Anne, “that would be pleasant, no doubt.”

“And to see a woodpecker,” said Lucy.

“Yes, very likely,” said Miss Anne.