Читать книгу: «The Little Dog Trusty; The Orange Man; and the Cherry Orchard; Being the Tenth Part of Early Lessons (1801)», страница 3

Ned, immediately returning, hit him a violent blow, which almost stunned him.

Still, however, this good boy, without minding the pain, persevered in defending what was left in his care; he still held the bridle with one hand, and covered the basket with his other arm, as well as he could.

Ned struggled in vain, to get his hands into the pannier again; he could not; and, finding that he could not win by strength, he had recourse to cunning. So he pretended to be out of breath and to desist; but he meant, as soon as Charles looked away, to creep softly round to the basket, on the other side.

Cunning people, though they think themselves very wise, are almost always very silly.

Ned, intent upon one thing, the getting round to steal the oranges, forgot that if he went too close to the horse's heels, he should startle him. The horse indeed, disturbed by the bustle near him, had already left off eating his hay, and began to put down his ears; but when he felt something touch his hind legs, he gave a sudden kick, and Ned fell backwards, just as he had seized the orange.

Ned screamed with the pain; and at the scream all the people came out of the public house to see what was the matter; and amongst them came the orange-man.

Ned was now so much ashamed, that he almost forgot the pain, and wished to run away; but he was so much hurt, that he was obliged to sit down again.

The truth of the matter was soon told by Charles, and as soon believed by all the people present who knew him: for he had the character of being an honest boy; and Ned was known to be a thief and a liar.

So nobody pitied Ned for the pain he felt. "He deserves it," says one. "Why did he meddle with what was not his own?" – "Pugh! he is not much hurt, I'll answer for it," said another. "And if he was, it's a lucky kick for him, if it keeps him from the gallows," says a third. Charles was the only person who said nothing; he helped Ned away to a bank: for brave boys are always good-natured.

"Oh, come here," said the orange-man, calling him; "come here, my honest lad! what! you got that black eye in keeping my oranges, did you? – that's a stout little fellow," said he, taking him by the hand, and leading him into the midst of the people.

Men, women, and children, had gathered around, and all the children fixed their eyes upon Charles, and wished to be in his place.

In the mean time, the orange-man took Charles's hat off his head, and filled it with fine China oranges. "There, my little friend," said he, "take them, and God bless you with them! If I could but afford it, you should have all that is in my basket."

Then the people, and especially the children, shouted for joy; but as soon as there was silence, Charles said to the orange-man, "Thank'e, master, with all my heart; but I can't take your oranges, only that one I earned; take the rest back again: as for a black eye, that's nothing! but I won't be paid for it; no more than for doing what's honest. So I can't take your oranges, master; but I thank you as much as if I had them." Saying these words, Charles offered to pour the oranges back into the basket; but the man would not let him.

"Then," said Charles, "if they are honestly mine, I may give them away;" so he emptied the hat amongst the children, his companions. "Divide them amongst you," said he; and without waiting for their thanks, he pressed through the crowd, and ran towards home. The children all followed him, clapping their hands, and thanking him.

The little thief came limping after. Nobody praised him, nobody thanked him; he had no oranges to eat, nor had he any to give away. People must be honest, before they can be generous. Ned sighed as he went towards home; "And all this," said he to himself, "was for one orange; it was not worth while."

No: it is never worth while to do wrong.

Little boys who read this story, consider which would you rather have been, the honest boy, or the thief.

THE CHERRY ORCHARD

Marianne was a little girl of about eight years old; she was remarkably good-tempered; she could bear to be disappointed, or to be contradicted, or to be blamed, without looking or feeling peevish, or sullen, or angry. – Her parents, and her school-mistress and companions, all loved her, because she was obedient and obliging.

Marianne had a cousin, a year younger than herself, named Owen, who was an ill-tempered boy; almost every day he was crying, or pouting, or in a passion, about some trifle or other; he was neither obedient nor obliging. – His playfellows could not love him; for he was continually quarrelling with them; he would never, either when he was at play or at work, do what they wished; but he always tried to force them to yield to his will and his humour.

One fine summer's evening, Marianne and Owen were setting out, with several of their little companions, to school. It was a walk of about a mile from the town in which their fathers and mothers lived to the school-house, if they went by the high-road; but there was another way, through a lane, which was a quarter of a mile shorter.

Marianne, and most of the children, liked to go by the lane, because they could gather the pretty flowers which grew on the banks, and in the hedges; but Owen preferred going by the high-road, because he liked to see the carts and carriages, and horsemen, which usually were seen upon this road.

Just when they were setting out, Owen called to Marianne, who was turning into the lane.

"Marianne," said he, "you must not go by the lane to-day; you must go by the road."

"Why must not I go by the lane to-day?" said Marianne; "you know, yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, we all went by the high-road, only to please you; and now let us go by the lane, because we want to gather some honey-suckles and dog-roses, to fill our dame's flower-pots."

"I don't care for that; I don't want to fill our dame's flower-pots; I don't want to gather honey-suckles and dog-roses; I want to see the coaches and chaises on the road; and you must go my way, Marianne."

"Must! Oh, you should not say must," replied Marianne, in a gentle tone.

"No, indeed!" cried one of her companions, "you should not; nor should you look so cross: that is not the way to make us do what you like."

"And, besides," said another, "what right has he always to make us do as he pleases? – He never will do any thing that we wish."

Owen grew quite angry when he heard this; and he was just going to make some sharp answer, when Marianne, who was good-natured, and always endeavoured to prevent quarrels, said, "Let us do what he asks, this once; and I dare say he will do what we please the next time – We will go by the high-road to school, and we can come back by the lane, in the cool of the evening."

To please Marianne, whom they all loved, they agreed to this proposal. They went by the high-road; but Owen was not satisfied, because he saw that his companions did not comply for his sake; and as he walked on, he began to kick up the dust with his feet, saying, "I'm sure it is much pleasanter here than in the lane; I wish we were to come back this way – I'm sure it is much pleasanter here than in the lane: is not it, Marianne?"

Marianne could not say that she thought so.

Owen kicked up the dust more and more.

"Do not make such a dust, dear Owen," said she; "look how you have covered my shoes and my clean stockings with dust."