Voltaire - "Histoire des Voyages de Scarmentado"

Harold Bell Wright - "That Printer of Udell's"

B.W. Matz - "The Inns and Taverns of Pickwick"

Annie Payson Call - "Nerves and Common Sense"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Parent\'s Assistant

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> The Parent\'s Assistant



This etext was produced by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset.





THE PARENT'S ASSISTANT OR STORIES FOR CHILDREN

by Maria Edgeworth




Preface Addressed to Parents.

Our great lexicographer, in his celebrated eulogium on Dr. Watts, thus
speaks in commendation of those productions which he so successfully
penned for the pleasure and instruction of the juvenile portion of the
community.

"For children," says Dr. Johnson, "he condescended to lay aside the
philosopher, the scholar, and the wit, to write little poems of devotion,
and systems of instruction adapted to their wants and capacities, from
the dawn of reason to its gradation of advance in the morning of life.
Every man acquainted with the common principles of human action, will
look with veneration on the writer, who is at one time combating Locke,
and at another time making a catechism for CHILDREN IN THEIR FOURTH YEAR.
A voluntary descent from the dignity of science is perhaps the hardest
lesson which humility can teach."

It seems, however, no very easy task to write for children. Those only
who have been interested in the education of a family, who have patiently
followed children through the first processes of reasoning, who have
daily watched over their thoughts and feelings--those only who know with
what ease and rapidity the early association of ideas are formed, on
which the future taste, character and happiness depend, can feel the
dangers and difficulties of such an undertaking.

Indeed, in all sciences the grand difficulty has been to ascertain facts-
-a difficulty which, in the science of education, peculiar circumstances
conspire to increase. Here the objects of every experiment are so
interesting that we cannot hold our minds indifferent to the result. Nor
is it to be expected that many registers of experiments, successful and
unsuccessful, should be kept, much less should be published, when we
consider that the combined powers of affection and vanity, of partiality
to his child and to his theory, will act upon the mind of a parent, in
opposition to the abstract love of justice, and the general desire to
increase the wisdom and happiness of mankind. Notwithstanding these
difficulties, an attempt to keep such a register has actually been made.
The design has from time to time been pursued. Though much has not been
collected, every circumstance and conversation that have been preserved
are faithfully and accurately related, and these notes have been of great
advantage to the writer of the following stories.

The question, whether society could exist without the distinction of
ranks, is a question involving a variety of complicated discussions,
which we leave to the politician and the legislator. At present it is
necessary that the education of different ranks should, in some respects,
be different. They have few ideas, few habits in common; their peculiar
vices and virtues do not arise from the same causes, and their ambition
is to be directed to different objects. But justice, truth, and humanity
are confined to no particular rank, and should be enforced with equal
care and energy upon the minds of young people of every station; and it
is hoped that these principles have never been forgotten in the following
pages.

As the ideas of children multiply, the language of their books should
become less simple; else their taste will quickly be disgusted, or will
remain stationary. Children that live with people who converse with
elegance will not be contented with a style inferior to what they hear
from everybody near them.

All poetical allusions, however, have been avoided in this book; such
situations only are described as children can easily imagine, and which
may consequently interest their feelings. Such examples of virtue are
painted as are not above their conception of excellence, or their powers
of sympathy and emulation.

It is not easy to give REWARDS to children which shall not indirectly do
them harm by fostering some hurtful taste or passion. In the story of
"Lazy Lawrence," where the object was to excite a spirit of industry,
care has been taken to proportion the reward to the exertion, and to
demonstrate that people feel cheerful and happy whilst they are employed.
The reward of our industrious boy, though it be money, is only money
considered as the means of gratifying a benevolent wish. In a commercial
nation it is especially necessary to separate, as much as possible, the
spirit of industry and avarice; and to beware lest we introduce Vice
under the form of Virtue.

In the story of "Tarlton and Loveit" are represented the danger and the
folly of that weakness of mind, and that easiness to be led, which too
often pass for good nature; and in the tale of the "False Key" are
pointed out some of the evils to which a well educated boy, on first
going to service, is exposed from the profligacy of his fellow servants.

In the "Birthday Present," and in the character of Mrs. Theresa Tattle,
the "Parent's Assistant" has pointed out the dangers which may arise in
education from a bad servant, or a common acquaintance.

In the "Barring Out" the errors to which a high spirit and the love of
party are apt to lead have been made the subject of correction, and it is
hoped that the common fault of making the most mischievous characters
appear the most ACTIVE and the most ingenious, has been as much as
possible avoided. UNSUCCESSFUL cunning will not be admired, and cannot
induce imitation.

It has been attempted, in these stories, to provide antidotes against
ill-humour, the epidemic rage for dissipation, and the fatal propensity
to admire and imitate whatever the fashion of the moment may distinguish.
Were young people, either in public schools, or in private families,
absolutely free from bad examples, it would not be advisable to introduce
despicable and vicious characters in books intended for their
improvement. But in real life they MUST see vice, and it is best that
they should be early shocked with the representation of what they are to
avoid. There is a great deal of difference between innocence and
ignorance.

To prevent the precepts of morality from tiring the ear and the mind, it
was necessary to make the stories in which they are introduced in some
measure dramatic; to keep alive hope and fear and curiosity, by some
degree of intricacy. At the same time, care has been taken to avoid
inflaming the imagination, or exciting a restless spirit of adventure, by
exhibiting false views of life, and creating hopes which, in the ordinary
course of things, cannot be realized.



CONTENTS.


THE ORPHANS
LAZY LAWRENCE
THE FALSE KEY
SIMPLE SUSAN
THE WHITE PIGEON
THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT
ETON MONTEM
FORGIVE AND FORGET
WASTE NOT, WANT NOT; OR, TWO STRINGS TO YOUR BOW
OLD POZ
THE MIMIC
THE BARRING OUT; OR, PARTY SPIRIT
THE BRACELETS
THE LITTLE MERCHANTS
TARLTON
THE BASKET WOMAN



THE ORPHANS.

Near the ruins of the castle of Rossmore, in Ireland, is a small cabin,
in which there once lived a widow and her four children. As long as she
was able to work, she was very industrious, and was accounted the best
spinner in the parish; but she overworked herself at last, and fell ill,
so that she could not sit to her wheel as she used to do, and was obliged
to give it up to her eldest daughter, Mary.

Mary was at this time about twelve years old. One evening she was
sitting at the foot of her mother's bed spinning, and her little brothers
and sisters were gathered round the fire eating their potatoes and milk
for supper. "Bless them, the poor young creatures!" said the widow, who,
as she lay on her bed, which she knew must be her deathbed, was thinking
of what would become of her children after she was gone. Mary stopped
her wheel, for she was afraid that the noise of it had wakened her
mother, and would hinder her from going to sleep again.

"No need to stop the wheel, Mary, dear, for me," said her mother, "I was
not asleep; nor is it THAT which keeps me from sleep. But don't overwork
yourself, Mary."

"Oh, no fear of that," replied Mary; "I'm strong and hearty."

"So was I once," said her mother.

"And so you will be again, I hope," said Mary, "when the fine weather
comes again."

"The fine weather will never come again to me," said her mother. "'Tis a
folly, Mary, to hope for that; but what I hope is, that you'll find some
friend--some help--orphans as you'll soon all of you be. And one thing
comforts my heart, even as I AM lying here, that not a soul in the wide
world I am leaving has to complain of me. Though poor I have lived
honest, and I have brought you up to be the same, Mary; and I am sure the
little ones will take after you; for you'll be good to them--as good to
them as you can."

Here the children, who had finished eating their suppers, came round the
bed, to listen to what their mother was saying. She was tired of
speaking, for she was very weak; but she took their little hands, as they
laid them on the bed and joining them all together, she said, "Bless you,
dears; bless you; love and help one another all you can. Good night!--
good-bye!"

Mary took the children away to their bed, for she saw that their mother
was too ill to say more; but Mary did not herself know how ill she was.
Her mother never spoke rightly afterwards, but talked in a confused way
about some debts, and one in particular, which she owed to a
schoolmistress for Mary's schooling; and then she charged Mary to go and
pay it, because she was not able to GO IN with it. At the end of the
week she was dead and buried, and the orphans were left alone in their
cabin.

The two youngest girls, Peggy and Nancy, were six and seven years old.
Edmund was not yet nine, but he was a stout-grown, healthy boy, and well
disposed to work. He had been used to bring home turf from the bog on
his back, to lead cart-horses, and often to go on errands for gentlemen's
families, who paid him a sixpence or a shilling, according to the
distance which he went, so that Edmund, by some or other of these little
employments, was, as he said, likely enough to earn his bread; and he
told Mary to have a good heart, for that he should every year grow able
to do more and more, and that he should never forget his mother's words
when she last gave him her blessing, and joined their hands all together.

As for Peggy and Nancy, it was little that they could do; but they were
good children, and Mary, when she considered that so much depended upon
her, was resolved to exert herself to the utmost. Her first care was to
pay those debts which her mother had mentioned to her, for which she left
money done up carefully in separate papers. When all these were paid
away, there was not enough left to pay both the rent of the cabin and a
year's schooling for herself and sisters which was due to the
schoolmistress in a neighbouring village.

Mary was in hopes that the rent would not be called for immediately, but
in this she was disappointed. Mr. Harvey, the gentleman on whose estate
she lived, was in England, and, in his absence, all was managed by a Mr.
Hopkins, an agent, who was a HARD MAN.* The driver came to Mary about a
week after her mother's death, and told her that the rent must be brought
in the next day, and that she must leave the cabin, for a new tenant was
coming into it; that she was too young to have a house to herself, and
that the only thing she had to do was to get some neighbour to take her
and her brother and her sisters in for charity's sake.

*A hard-hearted man.

The driver finished by hinting that she would not be so hardly used if
she had not brought upon herself the ill-will of Miss Alice, the agent's
daughter. Mary, it is true, had refused to give Miss Alice a goat upon
which she had set her fancy; but this was the only offence of which she
had been guilty, and at the time she refused it her mother wanted the
goat's milk, which was the only thing she then liked to drink.

Mary went immediately to Mr. Hopkins, the agent, to pay her rent; and she
begged of him to let her stay another year in her cabin; but this he
refused. It was now September 25th, and he said that the new tenant must
come in on the 29th, so that she must quit it directly. Mary could not
bear the thoughts of begging any of the neighbours to take her and her
brother and sisters in FOR CHARITY'S SAKE; for the neighbours were all
poor enough themselves. So she bethought herself that she might find
shelter in the ruins of the old castle of Rossmore where she and her
brother, in better times, had often played at hide and seek. The kitchen
and two other rooms near it were yet covered in tolerably well; and a
little thatch, she thought, would make them comfortable through the
winter. The agent consented to let her and her brother and sisters go in
there, upon her paying him half a guinea in hand, and promising to pay
the same yearly.

Into these lodgings the orphans now removed, taking with them two
bedsteads, a stool, chair and a table, a sort of press, which contained
what little clothes they had, and a chest in which they had two hundred
of meal. The chest was carried for them by some of the charitable
neighbours, who likewise added to their scanty stock of potatoes and turf
what would make it last through the winter.

These children were well thought of and pitied, because their mother was
known to have been all her life honest and industrious. "Sure," says one
of the neighbours, "we can do no less than give a helping hand to the
poor orphans, that are so ready to help themselves." So one helped to
thatch the room in which they were to sleep, and another took their cow
to graze upon his bit of land on condition of having half the milk; and
one and all said they should be welcome to take share of their potatoes
and buttermilk if they should find their own ever fall short.

The half-guinea which Mr. Hopkins, the agent, required for letting Mary
into the castle, was part of what she had to pay to the schoolmistress,
to whom above a guinea was due. Mary went to her, and took her goat
along with her, and offered it in part of payment of the debt, but the
schoolmistress would not receive the goat. She said that she could afford
to wait for her money till Mary was able to pay it; that she knew her to
be an honest, industrious little girl, and she would trust her with more
than a guinea. Mary thanked her; and she was glad to take the goat home
again, as she was very fond of it.

Being now settled in their house, they went every day regularly to work;
Maud spun nine cuts a day, besides doing all that was to be done in the
house; Edmund got fourpence a day by his work; and Peggy and Annie earned
twopence apiece at the paper-mills near Navan, where they were employed
to sort rags, and to cut them into small pieces.

When they had done work one day, Annie went to the master of the paper-
mill and asked him if she might have two sheets of large white paper
which were lying on the press. She offered a penny for the paper; but
the master would not take anything from her, but gave her the paper when
he found that she wanted it to make a garland for her mother's grave.
Annie and Peggy cut out the garland, and Mary, when it was finished, went
along with them and Edmund to put it up. It was just a month after their
mother's death.

It happened, at the time the orphans were putting up this garland, that
two young ladies, who were returning home after their evening walk,
stopped at the gate of the churchyard to look at the red light which the
setting sun cast upon the window of the church. As the ladies were
standing at the gate, they heard a voice near them crying, "O, mother!
mother! are you gone for ever?" They could not see anyone, so they
walked softly round to the other side of the church, and there they saw
Mary kneeling beside a grave, on which her brothers and sisters were
hanging their white garlands.

The children all stood still when they saw the two ladies passing near
them; but Mary did not know anybody was passing, for her face was hid in
her hands.

Isabella and Caroline (so these ladies were called) would not disturb the
poor children; but they stopped in the village to inquire about them. It
was at the house of the schoolmistress that they stopped, and she gave
them a good account of these orphans. She particularly commended Mary's
honesty, in having immediately paid all her mother's debts to the utmost
farthing, as far as her money would go. She told the ladies how Mary had
been turned out of her house, and how she had offered her goat, of which
she was very fond, to discharge a debt due for her schooling; and, in
short, the schoolmistress, who had known Mary for several years, spoke so
well of her that these ladies resolved that they would go to the old
castle of Rossmore to see her the next day.

When they went there, they found the room in which the children lived as
clean and neat as such a ruined place could be made. Edmund was out
working with a farmer, Mary was spinning, and her little sisters were
measuring out some bogberries, of which they had gathered a basketful,
for sale. Isabella, after telling Mary what an excellent character she
had heard of her, inquired what it was she most wanted; and Mary said
that she had just worked up all her flax, and she was most in want of
more flax for her wheel.

Isabella promised that she would send her a fresh supply of flax, and
Caroline bought the bogberries from the little girls, and gave them money
enough to buy a pound of coarse cotton for knitting, as Mary said that
she could teach them how to knit.

The supply of flax, which Isabella sent the next day, was of great
service to Mary, as it kept her in employment for above a month; and when
she sold the yarn which she had spun with it, she had money enough to buy
some warm flannel for winter wear. Besides spinning well, she had
learned at school to do plain work tolerably neatly, and Isabella and
Caroline employed her to work for them; by which she earned a great deal
more than she could by spinning. At her leisure hours she taught her
sisters to read and write; and Edmund, with part of the money which he
earned by his work out of doors, paid a schoolmaster for teaching him a
little arithmetic. When the winter nights came on, he used to light his
rush candles for Mary to work by. He had gathered and stripped a good
provision of rushes in the month of August, and a neighbour gave him
grease to dip them in.

One evening, just as he had lighted his candles, a footman came in, who
was sent by Isabella with some plain work to Mary. This servant was an
Englishman, and he was but newly come over to Ireland. The rush candles
caught his attention; for he had never seen any of them before, as he
came from a part of England where they were not used. Edmund, who was
ready to oblige, and proud that his candles were noticed showed the
Englishman how they were made, and gave him a bundle of rushes.*

[*"The proper species of rush," says White, in his 'Natural History of
Selborne,' "seems to be the Juncus effusus, or common soft rush, which is
to be found in moist pastures, by the sides of streams, and under
hedges. These rushes are in best condition in the height of summer, but
may be gathered so as to serve the purpose well quite on to autumn. The
largest and longest are the best. Decayed labourers, women, and children
make it their business to procure and prepare them. As soon as they are
cut, they must be flung into water, and kept there; for otherwise they
will dry and shrink, and the peel will not run. When these junci are
thus far prepared, they must lie out on the grass to be bleached and take
the dew for some nights, and afterwards be dried in the sun. Some
address is required in dipping these rushes in the scalding fat or
grease; but this knack is also to be attained by practice. A pound of
common grease may be procured for fourpence, and about six pounds of
grease will dip a pound of rushes and one pound of rushes may be bought
for one shilling; so that a pound of rushes, medicated and ready for use,
will cost three shillings."]

The servant was pleased with his good nature in this trifling instance,
and remembered it long after it was forgotten by Edmund. Whenever his
master wanted to send a messenger anywhere, Gilbert (for that was the
servant's name) always employed his little friend Edmund, whom, upon
further acquaintance, he liked better and better. He found that Edmund
was both quick and exact in executing commissions.

One day, after he had waited a great while at a gentleman's house for an
answer to a letter, he was so impatient to get home that he ran off
without it. When he was questioned by Gilbert why he did not bring an
answer, he did not attempt to make any excuse; he did not say, "There was
no answer, please your honour," or, "They bid me not to wait," etc.; but
he told exactly the truth; and though Gilbert scolded him for being so
impatient as not to wait, yet his telling the truth was more to the boy's
advantage than any excuse he could have made. After this he was always
believed when he said, "There was no answer," or, "They bid me not wait";
for Gilbert knew that he would not tell a lie to save himself from being
scolded.

The orphans continued to assist one another in their work according to
their strength and abilities; and they went on in this manner for three
years. With what Mary got by her spinning and plain work, and Edmund by
leading of cart-horses, going on errands, etc., and with little Peggy and
Anne's earnings, the family contrived to live comfortably. Isabella and
Caroline often visited them, and sometimes gave them clothes, and
sometimes flax or cotton for their spinning and knitting; and these
children did not EXPECT, that because the ladies did something for them,
they should do everything. They did not grow idle or wasteful.

When Edmund was about twelve years old, his friend Gilbert sent for him
one day, and told him that his master had given him leave to have a boy
in the house to assist him, and that his master told him he might choose
one in the neighbourhood. Several were anxious to get into such a good
place: but Gilbert said that he preferred Edmund before them all,
because he knew him to be an industrious, honest, good natured lad, who
always told the truth. So Edmund went into service at the vicarage; and
his master was the father of Isabella and Caroline. He found his new way
of life very pleasant; for he was well fed, well clothed, and well
treated; and he every day learned more of his business, in which at first
he was rather awkward. He was mindful to do all that Mr. Gilbert
required of him; and he was so obliging to all his fellow-servants that
they could not help liking him. But there was one thing which was at
first rather disagreeable to him: he was obliged to wear shoes and
stockings, and they hurt his feet. Besides this, when he waited at
dinner he made such a noise in walking that his fellow-servants laughed
at him. He told his sister Mary of his distress, and she made for him,
after many trials, a pair of cloth shoes, with soles of platted hemp.*
In these he could walk without making the least noise; and as these shoes
could not be worn out of doors, he was always sure to change them before
he went out; and consequently he had always clean shoes to wear in the
house.

[*The author has seen a pair of shoes, such as here described, made in a
few hours.]

It was soon remarked by the men-servants that he had left off clumping so
heavily, and it was observed by the maids that he never dirtied the
stairs or passages with his shoes. When he was praised for these things,
he said it was his sister Mary who should be thanked, and not he; and he
showed the shoes which she had made for him.

Isabella's maid bespoke a pair immediately, and sent Mary a piece of
pretty calico for the outside. The last-maker made a last for her, and
over this Mary sewed the calico vamps tight. Her brother advised her to
try platted packthread instead of hemp for the soles; and she found that
this looked more neat than the hemp soles, and was likely to last longer.
She platted the packthread together in strands of about half an inch
thick, and these were served firmly together at the bottom of the shoe.
When they were finished they fitted well, and the maid showed them to her
mistress.

Isabella and Caroline were so well pleased with Mary's ingenuity and
kindness to her brother, that they bespoke from her two dozen of these
shoes, and gave her three yards of coloured fustian to make them of, and
galloon for the binding. When the shoes were completed, Isabella and
Caroline disposed of them for her amongst their acquaintance, and got
three shillings a pair for them. The young ladies, as soon as they had
collected the money, walked to the old castle, where they found
everything neat and clean as usual. They had great pleasure in giving to
this industrious girl the reward of her ingenuity, which she received
with some surprise and more gratitude. They advised her to continue the
shoemaking trade, as they found the shoes were liked, and they knew that
they could have a sale for them at the Repository in Dublin.