Part 3

So both the boys took hold of the heavy chair, and dragged it to the table. Then James helped George to climb upon it, and from that he scrambled up on the table. He walked across, to where the sugar was, and sat down on the table, and took the sugar-bowl in his lap.

"Now, you get the stool," said George.

So James got the stool, and put it close to the side of the table where George was, and stood upon it.

You should have seen how their merry black eyes sparkled, at the fine feast they were going to have. They did not think that they were doing wrong, for their Mother had often given them a little sugar.

So George took the spoon that was in the sugar, and helped James to a spoonful, and then took one himself. He was very particular to give James exactly as many spoonfuls as he took himself.

They were having such a delightful time, that for some moments they did not speak a single word. George began first,--

"This is nice," said George.

"I like sugar," said James.

"It is so sweet," said George.

"And so good," said James.

"We will eat it all up," said George.

"We won't leave a bit," said James.

"It is almost all gone," said George.

"There is hardly any left," said James.

All the time they were talking George had been stuffing his brother and himself with the sugar.

Just then their Mother opened the door. She had opened it softly, and the little boys had not heard her. When she saw them so busy--with their round faces stuck all over with crumbs of sugar, and George sitting on the table, dealing it out so fairly--she could not keep from laughing.

The twins heard her laugh, so they laughed too; and George cried out, "Mother, this sugar is nice--I like it."

"And so do I," said James.

Their Mother lifted George from the table, and told them they must not do so again, for so much sugar would make them sick. She washed their faces, and sent them to play in the garden. There was a fine large garden at the back of the house, where they could play without danger.

Three years after this, the twins were sent to school, where they soon became great favourites, because they were amiable and good, and always willing to do as they were told. They looked so exactly alike, and were dressed so exactly alike, that often very funny mistakes were made. I will tell you something that happened, that was not funny, but it will show you how hard it was to tell which was George, and which was James.

One day, the teacher gave the twins a spelling lesson, and told them that they must know it perfectly that morning.

Now George, for the first time, was naughty, and instead of learning the lesson, he was making elephants and giraffes on his slate; but James studied his lesson, and soon knew it. Presently the teacher said, "James, do you know your lesson?"

"Yes, sir," said James. He went up to the desk and said it very well.

"You know it perfectly," said his teacher; "you are a good boy. Now go to your seat."

In a few moments he said, "George, come and say your lesson."

But George did not know a word of it; and James whispered to him, "I don't want you to be punished, brother; I will go for you and say it again."

So James went and repeated his lesson. The teacher thought of course it was George; he said, "Very well, indeed, George; you know it just as well as James: you are _both_ good boys."

When George heard this praise, which he did not deserve, he was troubled. He had been taught never to deceive. He did not think at first how wrong he had been; _now_, he saw plainly, that it was very wrong; that he and his brother had been _acting_ a lie.

He whispered to James, "Brother, I can't bear to cheat, so I will go and tell the teacher."

So he went directly up to the desk, and said, "Sir, I have not yet said my lesson."

"Why, yes you have," replied the teacher; "I have just heard you say it."

"No, sir, if you please," said George; "I do not know it at all. James said it twice, to save me from being punished."

"Well, George," replied his teacher, "I am very glad you have told me this. I never should have found it out. But your conscience told you that you were doing wrong; and I am thankful you have listened to its warnings, and made up your mind at once to be an honest boy. I will not punish you or James, for I am sure neither of you will do so again."

The little boys promised him they never would--and they never did; and they grew up to be honest and good men.

THE LITTLE BOY THAT WAS AFRAID OF THE WATER.

Once on a time there were two little boys. William was five years old, and Johnny was not quite three. The weather was very warm, and these little boys got so weak, and looked so pale and sick, that the doctor said their parents had better take them to Hastings, and let them bathe in the sea. So their Mother packed up their clothes, and some books, for she did not wish them to be idle; and one pleasant afternoon they all went by the railway to Hastings.

The little boys were very much amused at all they saw. There were several other boys in the carriage, and William and Johnny looked very hard at them, and wished they knew what their names were, and whether they had a Noah's Ark and Rocking-Horse like theirs.

After three hours' ride by the puffing, screaming railway, they arrived safely at Hastings, and they found a carriage waiting for them, which soon took them to the house which their papa had hired. Tea was immediately brought up, and then, as they were all very tired, they went early to bed.

After breakfast the next morning, William and Johnny walked down to the smooth and beautiful beach with their parents, where a great many people, some of them children, were bathing. They seemed to like it very much; and it really did look very inviting, for the sun made the water sparkle like diamonds, and the waves seemed dancing and leaping, and looked as if they longed to give everybody a good splashing.

William was delighted. He could hardly wait to be undressed, he was in such a great hurry to be ducked; and when the bathing-woman took him and plunged him under the water, although he gasped for breath, he laughed, and kicked, and splashed the water, and cried, "Duck me again! duck me again!" and he looked so pleased, that some other children came to where he was, and they all had a grand frolic together.

Little Johnny laughed too, as he stood in the machine; but, when his Mother said, "Come, Johnny, now it is your turn," he made a terrible face, and cried, "Dear Mamma, please let me go home. I shall never see you again if you put me in that great big water." But his Mamma said he must go in, because it would do him a great deal of good, and she undressed him, and put him into the woman's arms.

Johnny now began to scream as loud as he could, and cried out, "Mamma, Mamma, I want to go back to you." But the old woman did not mind him a bit, and holding him by his arms, she plunged him under the water.

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The poor little fellow came up gasping and panting, and sobbed out, "Oh, my dear Mamma, come and kiss me 'fore I die."

Everybody laughed--for there was no danger--except his kind Mother. A tear started to her eye, for she knew her dear little son really thought he was dying, and would never see her again. But in a little while he felt better, and, after his Mother had taken him, and had rubbed him all over and dressed him, and he had run up and down the beach with William and the other children, he felt such a nice warm glow all over him, that he forgot all about his fright.

Very soon he said, "Mamma, I am so hungry--I am as hungry as a little bear."

"That is because you have been in the water," replied his Mother.

"Are the fishes always hungry?--does the water make them hungry too?" said Johnny.

"I believe they are always ready to eat," replied his Mother; "you know that they are caught by bait. This bait is often a little worm, put upon a sharp hook. The fish snap at the bait, and the hook catches them in the mouth. Come, little hungry fish," added his Mother, "and I will give you something to eat; but I will not put it on a hook to hurt you."

The next day the little boys went into the water again, and, although Johnny made up a doleful face, he did not think he should die this time; and, when he saw the other children laughing and splashing each other, and crying, "Duck me again! what fun we are having!" he tried to like it too, and after a little while did begin to like it; for when children _try_ to overcome their foolish fears, they will almost always succeed, and be rewarded, as Johnny was, by the pleasure they enjoy, and the happiness they give to their parents.

After a few days Johnny got to be so brave, that he was the first to run down to the beach and jump into the bathing-woman's arms, and he cried louder than any, "Duck me again!" and splashed everybody that came near him; and both William and Johnny got so strong, and ate so heartily, and had such great red cheeks, that when they went home to London, a few weeks after, their friends hardly knew them, and Johnny never again had any foolish fears about going into the water.

THE MAY QUEEN.

"Mother," said Frederick Stanley, "is it not wrong to treat servants unkindly?"

"What makes you ask that question?" answered his Mother. "What can have put that into your head?"

"Nothing--I don't know," replied he, looking at his sister Kate, who was sitting near him, working a pair of slippers.

Mrs. Stanley saw that there was something on their mind, so she laid down her book, and tried to draw it out. She began,--

"What is the reason that your little Scottish friend Jessie has not been here lately? I thought that you, Kate, could not take a walk with any pleasure without her, and Fred has become quite a beau since her arrival. I am afraid you have done or said something to offend her."

"Fred," said Kate,--who was two years younger than her brother, and much smaller, and had a great respect for him,--"Fred, do you tell Mother."

Fred gave his trousers a little pull, shook the hair away from his face, half laughed, and did not speak a word; but Kate, like a real little woman, could not keep the secret a moment longer.

"We have had a quarrel, Mother; that's all."

"'A quarrel! that's all!'" said her Mother. "That's a great deal too much; but what did you find to quarrel about?"

"Why, Mother," answered Fred, getting over his bashfulness, now that the secret was out, "it was all about treating servants with kindness."

"Well done!" exclaimed his Mother. "Let us hear what you had to say upon the subject."

"I said it was a shame to abuse those who were poorer than we were; that in God's eyes all were equal. I could not bear to hear Jessie say that she had her own servant at home, and when this servant did anything to displease her, she would pinch and slap her. I told her she was a downright wicked girl!"

"Oh, shocking! shocking!" said Mrs. Stanley. "And, my sweet little Kate, did you too stand up for kindness to servants?"

"I did all I could, dear Mother," she replied, "but Fred did the most."

"Well, tell me, what else did you say?"

"I told her," said Fred, hesitating a little, "that here we said, 'if you please,' and 'thank you,' when a servant did anything for us, and that she had better go back to Scotland, and not stay another day in a place where she was deprived of the pleasure of pinching people."

"Oh, Frederick! Frederick! how could a boy of your politeness be so rude to a young lady? That was a great mistake."

Frederick looked mortified, and Kate hung her head. "But what happened after that?" asked Mrs. Stanley.

"Oh, she was so angry that she went away, and we have not seen her since. I am very sorry; but it can't be helped now."

"No," said Kate, "we can't help it now."

"But, my dear children," said their Mother, "I think you owe Jessie an apology."

"I have no objection," said Fred, after reflecting a moment, "if you think I have been so very impolite; but it will do no good."

"Well," said Mrs. Stanley, "it must be done. Perhaps I can assist you in making up the quarrel. Next Thursday, you know, is the first of May. You shall have a little party, and Jessie shall be Queen of May. That will be certain to please her."

"Jessie! Queen!" exclaimed Kate. "She will not, Mother. Jessie will not come; I am sure she will not come. I do not believe she will ever speak to us again."

"I tell you she _will_ come," said her Mother; "and she will be Queen. I will manage it for you."

"Ah, well, Mother," said Fred, looking at his sister, "you don't know Jessie as well as we do. She won't forgive us so easily."

Company now came in, and the children went to their studies. In the afternoon Mrs. Stanley sent a polite invitation to Jessie and her parents to pass the next Thursday evening at her house; and as they were sitting at the tea-table, the answer was returned.

"There," said Mrs. Stanley, "one point is gained; they will all come."

"They may come," said Frederick, "but she won't be civil to us, I know."

The next day was spent in preparing the crown, throne, and flowers, &c., and Frederick set himself to work to learn by heart some lines his Mother had written for the occasion.

Thursday evening arrived, and the children, though afraid of Jessie's cold looks, were in good spirits. Kate came into the parlour, and found Fred before a large glass, making his speech, and practising the most graceful bows and gestures.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, "how light and beautiful the room looks! Oh, Fred, I hope we shall have a pleasant time."

The arrival of the company now interrupted them, and when nearly all had come, Mrs. Stanley told her plan with regard to Jessie; and this important matter was just settled, when that young lady and her parents entered.

Jessie, not knowing the honour awaiting her, was very stiff and grave in her salutations. Her large dark eyes were turned away from Fred and Kate, yet an expression about her pretty mouth seemed to say,--

"I am not so very angry as you think."

"She _looks_ like a Queen, does not she?" whispered Fred to his sister.

"She is stiff enough, at any rate," said Kate.

"I wonder whom she will choose for her King?" said Fred.

"I am sure I don't know," answered Kate, looking round. "I suppose the biggest boy."

"Dear me!" said Fred, "I forget that I must go out until it is time for the Address;" and he left the room, to wait his Mother's signal.

Refreshments were now handed round the room, and many a sly glance was cast upon the unconscious Jessie, who was still looking very grave, and almost cross, till, at a hint from his Mother, Fred made his appearance, and with blushing face, but firm voice, pronounced the following lines:

"O valiant knights, and ladies fair! I'm very glad to see you here; Your happy looks and eyes so bright, Have quite inspired me to-night. Though I'm unused to courtly ways, My choice from you will meet with praise. Our English land, so brave and free, Where waves the flag of liberty, Can yet, while all our hearts approve, The Scottish stranger fondly love. (No looks of grave distrust are seen,) Fair Jessie! I proclaim you Queen! And kneeling lowly at your feet, To be your knight I do entreat. Now deign to say, what happy one Amongst us all shall share your throne?"

Fred rose from his knees, and awaited Jessie's reply.

Her anger was all gone, but she was so surprised that she looked down, and did not say a word.

"Well," thought Fred, "I knew she would act so. I suppose everybody is laughing at me."

"Jessie," said her Mother, "speak quickly. Whom will you have for King?"

Jessie blushed, and smiled, and whispered in a soft little voice, "Frederick."

Astonished and delighted by this kindness, Fred again knelt down, then rising, he took her little white hand, and led her in triumph, followed by all the company, to the next room, where a splendid throne had been erected. A beautiful crown of flowers was placed on Jessie's head, and gave new beauty to her soft and curling brown hair. Frederick also had a handsome crown. Sceptres were placed in their hands, and then they arranged their court. Kate was made a Duchess, at which she grew quite dignified; there were plenty of Earls and Countesses, and the sweet little maids of honour and the pages stood behind the throne.

They then formed a procession, to return to the parlour, and in an instant a march burst forth from a band of music which had been concealed for the purpose.

At this unexpected event, his Majesty jumped so high that his crown tumbled off, and the Queen was in such a delightful agitation that she could not confine her steps to a walk, and so the King and the Queen, and the Duchess, and all the maids of honour and pages, ran helter-skelter, as fast as they could, and took places for dancing.

Never were merrier hearts or brighter eyes than now leaped and shone in that little party. The Queen was the gayest of all, and the King was nearly out of his wits with joy, to find himself and Jessie once more friends. Little Kate got so tired of being a Duchess that she skipped about like a little fairy; and all the lords and ladies, and maids of honour and pages, were so merry and so full of innocent fun, that they looked a great deal more like little children. And so the happy evening concluded, to the satisfaction of all.

The next morning, Mrs. Stanley asked her children if they had had a pleasant party.

"Oh, yes!" they both answered; "it was perfectly delightful; and Jessie was as pleasant as she could be, and seemed to have forgotten all about the quarrel."

THE TOOTHACHE.

One day little Emily's Grandma said to her, "My dear child, you must go with me to-day to the dentist's, and have some of those teeth pulled out. They are growing so fast and so crooked, that you have not room enough in your mouth for them all."

"Dear Grandma," said the little girl, "will it hurt me _very_ much?"

"Yes, my dear," replied her Grandma; "it will hurt you a great deal, but you must try to bear the pain; it will not be long."

Poor little Emily sighed, and the tears stood in her eyes. She knew that her Grandmother always told her the exact truth. She knew that she would suffer a great deal of pain, because her Grandma had told her so.

It is always the best way to tell a little boy or girl the exact truth. If Emily's Grandma had said that it would not hurt her to have her teeth pulled out, it would have been very wrong, and Emily would not have believed her another time, when she was to have anything done to her.

This little girl had no Mother. Her Mother was dead, and her Grandma took care of her, and was very kind to her, and Emily loved her dearly, and so she made up her mind to go and have her teeth out, without any trouble, because her Grandma was in bad health; and she knew that if she cried and made a great fuss about it, it would trouble her, and perhaps make her ill.

Now was not this thoughtful and good in a little girl only seven years old? I hope all the little boys and girls that read this will try to be as good.

After dinner, Emily and her Grandma put on their bonnets, and went to the dentist's house. The little girl trembled when the door was opened, but she walked in without saying a word.

They went into the parlour, for there were some persons up stairs in the dentist's room, and they had to wait.

"Grandma," said Emily, "may I look at the books on the table? It will keep me from thinking about my teeth."

Her Grandma said she might, and the little girl was soon quite interested in looking at the pictures in the books, and showing them to her Grandma.

In a little while the servant came to tell her she could go up stairs. Her heart beat fast, but she went up to her Grandmother, and said, "Dear Grandma, you are not well; you look quite pale to-day. Do not go with me; I will go alone, and I promise you I will be a brave little girl."

She kissed her Grandma, and ran out of the room.

When she entered the room up stairs, she saw two ladies there. She stopped; but the dentist said, "Come in, my little girl, do not be afraid, I will be as gentle as I can."

The ladies saw that she was alone, so one of them went up to her and took her hand. She was an old lady, and wore spectacles, and she looked very kind and good. So the dear little girl let the dentist lift her into the great chair, and take off her hat, and the old lady kept hold of her hand, and said, "It will be over in a minute, my dear child," and then she pressed her little hand so kindly, that Emily felt quite comforted.

The other lady was a young lady, and she too felt sorry that Emily was to suffer. She wanted to smooth her hair, and give her a kiss; but she thought that the little girl might be afraid of so many strangers, so she sat down very quietly.

When the dentist had looked into Emily's mouth, he saw that four teeth must come out. So he got the instrument, and held her head tight with his arm.

Emily turned pale, but she kept quite still, and did not cry or scream; and the dentist pulled out the four teeth, one after the other, without a sound from her lips.

When they were all out, some large tears came from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks; but she only said, "Thank you," to the lady that held her hand; and, putting her handkerchief to her mouth, she ran down stairs.