Evening at Home 46

Evening at Home 46

Arb._ You know I am of an open sociable disposition.

 

_Bel._ Perhaps he is so, too.

 

_Arb._ If he was, surely we should have been better acquainted before

this time.

 

_Bel._ It may have been prejudice rather than temper that has kept you

apart.

 

_Arb._ Possibly so. The vile spirit of party has such a sway in the

country, that men of the most liberal dispositions can hardly free

themselves from its influence. It poisons all the kindness of society;

and yonder comes an instance of its pernicious effects.

 

_Bel._ Who is he?

 

_Arb._ A poor schoolmaster with a large family in the next market-town,

who has lost all his scholars by his activity on our side in the last

election. I heartily wish it was in my power to do something for him;

for he is a very honest man, though, perhaps, rather too warm. [_The

schoolmaster comes up._] Now, Mr. Penman, how do things go with you?

 

_Pen._ I thank you, sir, they have gone poorly enough, but I hope they

are in a way to mend.

 

_Arb._ I am glad to hear it—but how?

 

_Pen._ Why, sir, the free-school of Stoke is vacant, and I believe I am

likely to get it.

 

_Arb._ Ay!—I wonder at that. I thought it was in the hands of the other

party?

 

_Pen._ It is, sir; but Mr. Goodwin has been so kind as to give me a

recommendation, and his interest is sufficient to carry it.

 

_Arb._ Mr. Goodwin! you surprise me!

 

_Pen._ I was much surprised, too, sir. He sent for me of his own accord,

(for I should never have thought of asking _him_ a favour,) and told me

he was sorry a man should be injured in his profession on account of

party, and as I could not live comfortably where I was, he would try to

settle me in a better place. So he mentioned the vacancy of Stoke, and

offered me letters for the trustees. I was never so affected in my life,

sir; I could hardly speak to return him thanks. He kept me to dinner,

and treated me with the greatest respect. Indeed, I believe there is not

a kinder man breathing than Mr. Goodwin.

 

_Arb._ You have the best reason in the world to say so, Mr. Penman.

What—did he converse familiarly with you?

 

_Pen._ Quite so, sir. We talked a great deal about party affairs in this

neighbourhood, and he lamented much that differences of this kind should

keep worthy men at a distance from each other. I took the liberty, sir,

of mentioning your name. He said he had not the honour of being

acquainted with you, but he had a sincere esteem for your character, and

should be glad of any occasion to cultivate a friendship with you. For

my part, I confess, to my shame I did not think there could have been

such a man on that side.

 

_Arb._ Well—good morning!

 

_Pen._ Your most obedient, sir.

 

[_He goes._

 

_Arb._ (_After some silence._) Come, my friend, let us go.

 

_Bel._ Whither?

 

_Arb._ Can you doubt it?—to Mr. Goodwin’s, to be sure! After all I have

heard, can I exist a moment without acknowledging the injustice I have

done him, and begging his friendship?

 

_Bel._ I shall be happy, I am sure, to accompany you on that errand. But

who is to introduce us?

 

_Arb._ O, what are form and ceremony in a case like this! Come—come.

 

_Bel._ Most willingly.

 

[_Exeunt._

 

[Illustration:

 

EVENING XVIII.

]

 

 

 

 

THE LITTLE PHILOSOPHER.

 

 

Mr. L. was one morning riding by himself, when dismounting to gather a

plant in the hedge, his horse got loose and galloped away before him. He

followed, calling the horse by his name, which stopped, but on his

approach set off again. At length, a little boy in a neighbouring field,

seeing the affair, ran across where the road made a turn, and getting

before the horse, took him by the bridle, and held him till his owner

came up. Mr. L. looked at the boy, and admired his ruddy, cheerful

countenance.

 

“Thank you, my good lad!” said he; “you have caught my horse very

cleverly. What shall I give you for your trouble?” putting his hand in

his pocket.

 

_Boy._ I want nothing, sir.

 

_Mr. L._ Don’t you? so much the better for you. Few men can say as much.

But pray, what are you doing in the field?

 

_Boy._ I was rooting up weeds and tending the sheep that are feeding on

the turnips.

 

_Mr. L._ And do you like this employment?

 

_Boy._ Yes, very well, this fine weather.

 

_Mr. L._ But had you not rather play?

 

_Boy._ This is not hard work; it is almost as good as play.

 

_Mr. L._ Who set you to work?

 

_Boy._ My daddy, sir.

 

_Mr. L._ Where does he live?

 

_Boy._ Just by, among the trees there.

 

_Mr. L._ What is his name?

 

_Boy._ Thomas Hurdle.

 

_Mr. L._ And what is yours?

 

_Boy._ Peter, sir.

 

_Mr. L._ How old are you?

 

_Boy._ I shall be eight at Michaelmas.

 

_Mr. L._ How long have you been out in this field?

 

_Boy._ Ever since six in the morning.

 

_Mr. L._ And are not you hungry?

 

_Boy._ Yes—I shall go to dinner soon.

 

_Mr. L._ If you had sixpence now, what would you do with it?

 

_Boy._ I don’t know. I never had so much in my life.

 

_Mr. L._ Have you no playthings?

 

_Boy._ Playthings! what are those?

 

_Mr. L._ Such as balls, nine-pins, marbles, tops, and wooden horses.

 

_Boy._ No, sir; but our Tom makes footballs to kick in the cold weather,

and we set traps for birds; and then I have a jumping-pole and a pair of

stilts to walk through the dirt with; and I had a hoop, but it is broke.

 

_Mr. L._ And do you want nothing else?

 

_Boy._ No. I have hardly time for those: for I always ride the horses to

field, and bring up the cows, and run to the town of errands, and that

is as good as play, you know.

 

_Mr. L._ Well, but you could buy apples or gingerbread at the town, I

suppose, if you had money?

 

_Boy._ Oh—I can get apples at home; and as for gingerbread I don’t mind

it much, for my mammy gives me a pie now and then, and that is as good.

 

_Mr. L._ Would you not like a knife to cut sticks?

 

_Boy._ I have one—here it is—brother Tom gave it me.

 

_Mr. L._ Your shoes are full of holes—don’t you want a better pair?

 

_Boy._ I have a better pair for Sundays.

 

_Mr. L._ But these let in water.

 

_Boy._ Oh, I don’t care for that.

 

_Mr. L._ Your hat is all torn, too.

 

_Boy._ I have a better at home, but I had as leave have none at all, for

it hurts my head.

 

_Mr. L._ What do you do when it rains?

 

_Boy._ If it rains very hard, I get under the hedges till it is over.

 

_Mr. L._ What do you do when you are hungry before it is time to go

home?

 

_Boy._ I sometimes eat a raw turnip.