• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The railroad
 The spoiled child
 The tunnel
 Old and young
 The third class carriages, or the...
 The inn
 The arboretum
 Children's gambols
 The factory
 The farm
 Trees
 The factory visited
 The country house
 The gardener
 The little coward
 The coward, continued
 The little washerwoman
 The return to old friends






Title: Willy's travels on the railroad
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00001703/00001
 Material Information
Title: Willy's travels on the railroad
Physical Description: Book
Creator: Marcet, Mrs
Publisher: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Spottiswoodes and Shaw
Publication Date: 1850
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00001703
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA1753
ltuf - ALK1426
oclc - 31278636
alephbibnum - 002249688

Table of Contents
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents
    The railroad
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
    The spoiled child
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    The tunnel
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
    Old and young
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    The third class carriages, or the market girl
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
    The inn
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    The arboretum
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
    Children's gambols
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    The factory
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
    The farm
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
    Trees
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
    The factory visited
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
    The country house
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
    The gardener
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
    The little coward
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
    The coward, continued
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
    The little washerwoman
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
    The return to old friends
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
Full Text




WILLY'S TRAVELS


ON


THE RAILROAD.


INTIENDD FOB TOUNG CHILDIRN.





BY MRS. MARKET.






LONDON:
PRI3uJD rOr
LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONOMANS,
PATAMOWERS-OW.
186"


















































Lowwwo
IromnwoomD and SnAW,
New.trwt.Square.




* 1


CONTENTS.



Page
THE RAILROAD .............................. 1
THE SPOILED CHILD........................ 16
THE TUNNEL ................................. 84
OLD AND YOUNo ........................... 46
THE MARKET GIRL ........................ 67
THE INNm...................................... 69
THE ARBORETUX ............................ 91
CmHnL zN's GAxBOLS ..................... 100
THE FACTORY. ............................. 11
THE FA ....................................... 124
TaR s ......................................... 137
THE FACTORY VISITED ..................... 149
THE COUNTRY HOUSE ................... 160
THE GARDENER.............................. 171
THE LITTLE COWARD ..................... 183
THE LITTLE COWARD (CONTINUED)...... 194
THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN ........... 20
THE RETURN TO OLD FIENDS ......... 228








WILLY'S TRAVELS


ON

THE RAILROAD,



THE RAILROAD.
WILLY, when he was six years
old, went with his Papa and
Mamma to take a long journey.
He had but a confused notion
what a long journey was; and
knew nothing of the railroad by
which they were to travel. When
they reached the station from
which the train of carriages set
out, Willy was at first bewildered
I B




THE RAILROAD.


by the novelty of the scene, and
by the bustle which takes place
in settling all the passengers and
their luggage. He felt a little
awed by the strangeness of every
thing around him; but looking
about, and seeing nothing to be
afraid of, he took courage, and
began to observe and ask ques-
tions as usual.
"You thought we should be
too late, Mamma," said he, "but
you see we are in very good time,
for the horses are not yet put to
any of the carriages."
"They go without horses,"
replied his Mother.
"Without horses!" repeated
he; "how can those great coaches
go on without horses? They




THE RAILROAD.


are much bigger and heavier than
our carriage. There must be
somebody to push or to pull
them, for they cannot move by
themselves."
"There is something, not
somebody," said his Mother,
"which makes them move, and
here it comes." Willy at that
instant heard a great rumbling
noise, and, turning round, he
saw a strange-looking carriage
full of fire inside, and, as it
rolled on, without horses or any
thing that he could see either to
pull or to push it, it made a ter-
rible whizzing noise, and a great
deal of white smoke came out of
it. Willy thought that it was on
fire, and he drew his Mamma
B2




4 THE BAILROAI.
back, crying out, "0 Mamma!
it will burn us."
But she answered, "No, no,
it will make us go on. Look
at the two men upon that car-
riage, they are not hurt by riding
on it, nor shall we be hurt when
our carriages are drawn by it."
"What is it, then ?" asked
Willy; "it looks like a live mon-
ster, more than like a car-
riage ?"
"It is only a steam-engine,"
replied she, "like that which
moves a steam-boat, in which
you have often been, and what
you take for smoke is steam
rising from boiling water, just
as it does from the tea urn."
"But that is real fire inside
the carriage, is it not P"




THE RAILROAD.


"Yes," replied she, "and
there is real fire in the tea urn,
in the shape of a red-hot heater;
fire is wanted both in the tea urn
and in the steam-engine, to make
the water boil, for without boil-
ing water we can have no steam ;
and without steam we should not
be able to get on so fast, either
in a boat or on the railroad."
And then," said Willy, we
should be like the man and the
pig, we should not get home
to-night."
"Very true, Willy, you can
understand the story of the pig
that would not go over the bridge,
much better than how a steam-
engine can move a boat, or a
train of carriages."
B




THE RAILROAD-


Just then a little bell went
ting-a-ring-a-ring, and his Mam-
ma told him it was to let
them know that the train of
carriages was going to set off;
so the passengers all hastened
to take their places. The train
at first went rather slowly, but
then it got on faster and faster,till
it reached its full speed, and
Willy thought that there must
be horses to make it go so fast.
He looked out of the window,
but the train was so long he
could see neither the beginning
nor the end. He saw only the
houses and trees and fields, which
looked as if they were moving.
S"I know they do not move,"
said he; but in the railroad, I




THE RAILROAD.


think every thing seems to be
moving. And do, Papa, look,
how little the cows are in that
field. And are those sheep ? they
seem to be no bigger than
lambs ; and I declare those
houses," said he, pointing to
them, "look almost like baby
houses at the toy shop."
"Those houses are really
small," replied his father, "but
not so very small as you sup-
pose, for they are large enough
for people to live in; every
thing seen from the train when
it is moving fast, appears smaller
than it really is; but I will not
try to explain the reason, because
you could not understand it."
"But, Papa," continued Willy,




THE RAILROAD.


"the steam-engine must be
stronger than horses, to be able
to move this great long train."
Much stronger than one
horse," replied he; "the engine
which draws this train is one per-
haps of thirty-horse power,which
means that it has the power or
strength of thirty horses."
"But I wonder that thirty
horses should be able to draw
so many carriages along, such
large carriages too, and so many
people in them."
"They are, indeed," said his
father; "for each carriage will
hold eighteen persons."
"But there is only room for
six in this carriage," observed
Willy.




THE RAILROAD. 9
"True; but this is only a part
of the carriage; it looks like a
whole carriage inside, but if you
saw it from the outside, you
would find that there were two
others joined close to it, to make
a whole carriage."
"I think, then," said Willy
laughing, "that the whole car-
riage is like a house with three
rooms in it, and that we are
riding in one of the rooms; in-
deed it is so large that it looks
almost as big as a little room."
"Just so," replied his father.
"Now, can you tell me how
many people there are in the
whole carriage ?"
"Yes," said Willy, carrying
on the joke, if there are three




THE RAILROAD.


rooms and six persons in each,
there must be eighteen in the
whole house; for three times
six makes eighteen in the mul-
tiplication table. But I should
like to know how many people
there are in the whole train, and
that cannot be in the multipli-
cation table, I think."
No," said his father; "there
are, I believe, ten of these car-
riages, and eighteen times ten
makes one hundred and eighty."
"But," added he, "there are
a great many other carriages of a
different kind belonging to this
train; they are called the second
and third classes, and are cheap-
er, so that the common people
can afford to go in them. The




THE RAILROAD.


second class is not so well fitted
up as this carriage (which is one
of the first class), and is more
exposed to the air; and the third
class, which is the cheapest, is
quite open."
Oh, then, I should like that
best," said Willy; "for I like
open carriages so much, you can
see the horses;-oh no, not on
the railroad," added he; "but
then you see everything around
you, without the trouble of look-
ing out of the windows, and then
the fresh air blows so nicely
about you."
We will try them before we
get to the end of our journey,"
said his father.
"But," asked Willy, "how




THE RAILROAD.


can one steam-engine be strong
enough to draw all these car-
riages; for it is not alive? I
know that men are strong, and
horses are stronger, and ele-
phants are stronger still, but
they are all alive; I never knew
anything strong that was not
alive; did you, Mamma?"
Yes," replied she, laughing,
"I once saw a little boy blown
down by the wind; now the
wind must have been strong to
blow down the boy, and yet it is
not alive. Then don't you re-
member when you bathed in the
sea last summer, how strong the
waves were? you often told me
that if the bathing woman had
not held you tightly, they would
have thrown you down."




THE RAILROAD.


Oh yes," cried Willy, and
the waves are not alive; though
they move about and froth so
much, they are only sea water;
but I am sure they are strong,
very strong indeed. And is there
anything else strong that is not
alive ?"
The steam from the steam-
engine, which looks so light that
you took it for smoke, is strong
enough to draw this long heavy
train. But observe, it is not
the steam which you see flying
about that moves the train, but
that which is kept close inside
the engine and cannot get out.
Then the carriage wheels rolling
on this smooth iron rail move
more easily."




14 THE RAILROAD.


I thought," added he, that
iron rails always stood upright
as they do in the railing before
our house. I never saw an iron
rail lying on the ground as these
do, unless it was broken or
thrown down."
"Any bar of iron," replied
his father, "is called a rail, and
may be used either upright or
lying on the ground, or in any
way in which it is wanted; but
it is more commonly called an
iron bar when it is net used as
a railing. The iron bars which
fasten the window shutters are'
not called rails."
The train now slackened its
pace, as it was'near the station,
where they were to stop for pas-
sengers.




THE RAILROAD.


This station was a very pretty
looking building in which several
persons were waiting the arrival
of the train ; as soon as it stopt,
many passengers hurried out, and
many others got in. "I think
it is like playing at puss in the
corner," said Willy.
Yes," replied his mother,
i" and sometimes a passenger is
too late, and then he is really
puss in the corner, for the train
sets off without him, and he loses
his place."









THE SPOILED CHILD.

WILLY and his parents had had
no one in their carriage but an
old lady, who wore a very old-
fashioned black bonnet; but now
the door was opened, and there
came in a lady with a pretty
looking little girl, and immedi-
ately afterwards the ting-a-ring
bell gave the signal of departure.
" Here we are off again," cried
Willy, whiz, whiz, whiz: and
look at the pretty curling smoke,
oh no, the steam I mean, which is
going all the way with us. Well,
I think a railroad is very funny




THE SPOILED CHILD.


after all, though it does frighten
you a little at first." Willy
now looked at the little girl,
and thought she would make a
nice little playfellow for him;
but though he tried all he could
to get acquainted with her, she
would not say a word. He asked
her what her name was, but her
Mamma was obliged to answer
for her that it was Harriet; then
how old she was, still she was
dumb; and her mother said five
last birthday. At last Willy
thought of another way of get-
ting the better of her shyness.
A school-fellow of his had given
him a very pretty ball as a keep-
sake just before he set out on his
journey; this ball was in his
S 3




THE SPOILED CHILD.


pocket, and he took it partly out,
so as to tempt the little girl to
look at it, and wish to see more.
She wondered what that pretty
looking red and yellow round
thing could be; it could not be
an orange, because it was half
red, and it could not be an apple;
so then she smiled, as much as
to say, Show me the whole of it.
Willy, seeing she was pleased,
took the ball quite out of his
pocket, and asked her to catch
it. She immediately held out a
pretty little apron she wore to
catch it, and then she threw it
back again, and so they got quite
well acquainted, and went on
playing at ball for some time, till
unfortunately Harriet, who was




THE SPOILED CHILD.


a little awkward in taking aim,
threw the ball so that it fell into
the old lady's lap; this made her
grumble at troublesome children,
and throwing the ball back to
them, she declared that if it
came in her way again she would
throw it out of the window. The
children took more care, but
their spirits rose as the game
went on, the ball was tossed
higher and higher, with less at-
tention, till in an unlucky mo-
ment it fell plump on the old
Slady's high-crowned bonnet, and
as this was made only of silk,
pushed it down, so that the bon-
net was in an instant changed
from a bonnet with a remark-
ably high crown, into a bonnet




THE SPOILED CHILD.


which looked as if it had no
crown at all. This struck the
children as so funny that they
both burst out laughing; it cer-
tainly was wrong, because it
was very rude, but the laughing
burst out before they had time
to think of that. However,
their gaiety was soon at an end,
for the old lady, after having had
some trouble to find the ball,
which had, as it were, hidden
itself in the crown of her bonnet,
kept her promise, and threw it
out of the window. Upon this
the little girl began to cry, and
screamed out to her Mamma, to
stop the carriage in order to pick
up the ball Her Mamma told
her that was impossible, but pro-




THE SPOILED CHILD.


mised to buy her another ball
when they came to the end of
the journey. This was far from
pacifying little Miss, she almost
screamed herself hoarse, because
her Mamma would not stop
the carriage; and then frowned
rudely at the old lady for spoil-
ing her game at play. Willy
looked at her with astonishment;
the very pretty little girl was
become ugly from her passion.
Her Mamma, half scolding, half
coaxing, took her on her lap
and gave her a piece of barley
sugar to stop her crying, but
she sobbed so violently, that it
almost choked her when it was
first put into her mouth; at
length, quite worn out, she sunk




22 THE SPOILED CHILD.


on her Mamma's bosom, and
sobbed herself to sleep.
The mother made the best
apologies she could to the old
lady, but could not help observ-
ing that it was very hard to throw
away the children's ball. The
old lady replied, "she had given
them warning, so it was their
own fault." The child's mother
declared that she was the best
child in the world when not put
in a passion, but then she really
could not manage her; she hoped
she would outgrow it.
"Her passions will grow
stronger as she grows older,"
replied the lady, if she is not
corrected in time. I believe if
you punished her instead of giv-




THE SPOILED CHILD.


ing her barley sugar, when she is
in such a rage, it would do her
more good. And you, my little
fellow, added she, speaking to
Willy, you did not cry, though
it was your ball that I threw
out of window. Come here, and
I will try to make you some
amends." If the truth must be
told, Willy had felt the tears
start to his eyes when he saw
the ball fly out at the window; it
not only broke up the game, but
it was his dear Harry's parting
present: however, he had learnt
how to command himself, and
made no complaint. He crossed
the carriage and went up to the
old lady, though not without
showing some signs of reluctance:




THE SPOILED CHILD.


she said, I treated you as you
deserved by throwing away your
ball, because it is proper that
children should be taught how
to behave in a public carriage
towards strangers. But you be-
haved very well in not crying, or
saying anything saucy about it.
Now," continued she, I have
a pretty picture book in this
bag, and I will lend it you to
look at." The book was full of
beautifully coloured prints, with
a few lines in verse at the bot-
tom of each, so easy, that Willy
could both read and understand
them. He amused himself with
this book extremely, and thanked
the lady; indeed, he was nearly
saying that it amused him better




THE SPOILED CHILD.


than the ball; but he did not,
because he thought that would
not be fair towards Harry.
The mother of the sleeping
child, seeing Willy so much
pleased, observed, it was a pity
that the lady had not thought of
this book of pictures before; for
it was the very thing that would
have amused and pacified her
little girl.
I should not have shown the
book," said the old lady, had
the little girl been awake. I
like to amuse children when
they are good, but it is right
they should be punished when
they are naughty. I have had
a great many children," con-
tinued she, and a great many




THE SPOILED CHILD.


grandchildren, and I never once
rewarded them for crying, and
when they found crying was of
no use, they left it off. A child
would much rather laugh than
cry, when he can get nothing
by crying. But when a child
knows that it will get either the
thing it cries for, or something
else to pacify it, like the piece
of barley sugar, it will cry if it
has any sense."
Willy thought the old lady
was rather severe; he did not
recollect his own Mamma having
ever punished him for crying;
but then he could not recollect
having cried for anything: when
he cried, it was from a fall; and
then his Mamma laughed at him,




THE SPOILED CHILD.


if it was a fall which only fright-
ened him; or, if he was hurt, she
applied something to ease the
pain, and then bade him bear it
like a man, and not like a baby.
Willy thought he should like to
know the grandchildren of the
old lady, they must all be so
good; but he wondered whether
they were fond of their grand.
mamma, and he ventured to ask
her how many she had. Why,
I can hardly tell you," replied
she, I have so many; and my
memory is very bad, now I am
so old, that I cannot well reckon
them up. But look at this pretty
bag," said she, "it was worked
by three of my granddaughters."
This was the bag from which
D 2




28 THE SPOILED CHILD.


the picture book had been taken,
it was very pretty, there were
three broad white velvet stripes
on each side of it, and these
were separated by stripes of
green velvet; the green stripes
were plain, but on the white
ones beautiful flowers were em-
broidered; there were roses, and
jessamine, and jonquils, and vio-
lets, and I know not how many
other pretty blossoms, with their
bright green leaves, and they
looked so fresh and so gay that
they almost seemed to be alive
and growing.
Well now," said the old
lady, each of my three grand-
daughters worked one of these
stripes, and their Mamma had the




THE SPOILED CHILD.


bag made up, with a nice handle,
as you see, and a pretty lock
and key, and then they sent it
to me on my birthday. You may
suppose how much I was pleased,
and what a nice letter I wrote to
thank them for the present; and
now I am going to see them in
the country, so I thought this
was the time to use my travelling
bag, for it is meant for a travel-
ling bag, to keep all I want on
the road safe and snug; so I put
my purse and my spectacles,
and my pocket-book and hand-
kerchief, and two or three books
I was reading, into it, and yet
the bag was not half full; then
I thought of a nice way of filling
it. I took it to the bazaar, and




30 THE SPOILED CHILD.


there I bought a number of toys,
and all sorts of things I knew
the children would like, which
filled it to the brim."
Willy stared, and thought the
cross old lady was becoming
quite good-natured, and he long-
ed much to see all the things in
the bag.
The lady guessed his wishes,
and said, As you seem to be a
careful child, I will trust the bag
to your hands; take it to yonder
corner of the carriage, where
there is an empty seat, and you
may look over the things."
This was a treat, indeed; and
I never should have finished, if
I told you all the bag contained.
The first thing that Willy saw




THE SPOILED CHILD.


was a dissecting puzzle, but he
was too impatient to look at the
other things to stop to put it
together; besides, he was afraid
he might drop some of the pieces,
and that the old lady might grow
cross again. The next was a box
of paints. The different colours
were so beautifully arranged that
they looked very pretty, though
they were only colours to paint
with. Then there was a little
palette to spread them on, and a
number of brushes, of different
sorts and sizes to paint with.
Next came a work-box, which
did not please Willy so much
as the painting-box, because
he knew nothing about needle-
work; and if the truth must be




32 THE SPOILED CHILD.


told, he did not know much
more about painting; but, as
he sometimes daubed over with
colours a drawing his Mamma
made for him, he fancied he un-
derstood something about paint-
ing.
Then there was a large doll
carefully wrapped up 'in silver
paper, so nicely dressed and
so pretty, that he thought he
should like to play with it, as
well as a little girl could do;
but he was afraid of crumpling
its dress, so he only turned it
round, and looked at it all over.
Then there was a portfolio for
writing, fitted up with pens, ink,
and paper, sealing-wax, and in
short every thing that could be




THE SPOILED CHILD.


wanted for writing. This, he
guessed, was for a little boy, for
though a little girl can write as
well as a little boy, she does not
write so much, having needle-
work and other things to do,
that do not belong to little
boys.
When Willy had finished the
examination of the bag, and
put all the things back in their
places, he returned it to the
lady, and thanked her.




84




THE TUNNEL.

WILLY was lying at his ease
and resting himself after having
done so much business, when
he suddenly heard a loud and
harsh sound which frightened
him; he crept close to his
Mamma, saying he had never
heard such a horrid screeching
noise in his life.
It is only a signal for some-
thing," said she, but for what,
I cannot tell."
"I dare say it comes from
that terrible fire carriage," said
Willy.




THE TUNNEL.


It does," replied his father,
"a little steam is let out through
a very small hole, and the diffi-
culty the steam has to force its
way through the hole makes
this disagreeable whistle."
You complain of my little
whistle sometimes, Mamma,"
said Willy, "but I am sure it
does not make half so disagree-
able a noise as this."
Very soon after, to the great
astonishment of Willy, it became
suddenly dark, so dark that he
could hardly see his Papa or
his Mamma, though the sun
had shone brightly a minute
before. He laid hold of his
mother's hand, and asked what
was the matter.




THE TUNNEL.


( Nothing, my dear," said she,
"we are only going through a
tunnel."
A tunnel ? what's that ?"
"It is a long hole made in
the ground through a hill, that
the train may go straight through
the hill instead of going over it,
for it is not easy for trains to go
up and down hill."
Then it must be a very long
hole indeed! When shall we
get through it, and see daylight
again ?"
In a minute or two," re-
plied she; "and this, no doubt,
was the reason the whistle gave
a signal, to warn any one, who
might chance to be in the tunnel
to get out of the way before the




THE TUNNEL.


train went in. And this noise,
disagreeable as it is, makes an
excellent signal, it is heard at so
great a distance; and it is so
unlike all other sounds that it
can never be mistaken."
And how can they make
such a long hole, and so large
too! big enough for the train to
pass through ?"
They begin," said his father,
"by digging into the hill at both
ends, the end at which we came
in, and the end at which we
shall soon go out, and they carry
away the earth in wheelbarrows
as they go on."
What a quantity of ground
there must be to wheel away "




THE TUNNEL.


said Willy; "and are we very low
under ground now ?"
"We have not gone down,"
replied his father; "but then
the hill is high above our
heads, much higher than a
house."
Oh dear!" cried Willy,
"if the hill were to fall upon us,
would it not crush us to death ?"
Certainly it would, but there
is no danger of that. Were you
ever afraid that the ceiling of a
room would fall down, and kill
you ? "
Oh no,"said Willy, laughing,
"I never thought of such a
thing."
"Because it never happens,"
said his father; "nor does it




THE TUNNEL. w
happen to a hill to fall down
into a tunnel. Builders, who
understand how to build houses,
and engineers, who know how
to make tunnels, take care to
construct them in such a manner
that they shall not fall."
I think, Mamma," said
Willy, "that we are getting
near the end of the tunnel, for
I see a little light."
That glimmering of light,"
said his father, "comes from a
hole which has been made from
the top of the hill, and is called
a shaft. When a tunnel is very
long, it is so difficult to get rid of
the earth that it is found easier
to take it away from the middle




THE TUNNEL.


part of the tunnel, by pulling
it up through a shaft, or well."
"Then," said Willy, "they
dig a shaft just as they dig
a well, I suppose, only they
bring up buckets full of earth
instead of water. I remember
seeing the well dug in our gar-
den."
Then you must have ob-
served, that when they first began
to dig the well they brought up
earth; it was not till they had
dug down to a spring of water
that they brought up water."
These shafts have also the
advantage of letting light and
air into the tunnel."
It is but very little," replied
Willy, "for I could hardly have




THE TUNNEL.


seen you and Mamma, if it had
not been for the little lamp at
the top of the carriage."
"Now, Willy," said his mother,
" I think you will soon see us by
daylight, for we are coming to
the end of the tunnel. Mind that
you look at the sides of the
tunnel before we leave it"
The daylight increased every
instant, and Willy saw that the
sides of the tunnel as well as the
arch overhead were built of bricks.
"Just like the brick walls of
a house," said he; "if I had
known that, I should not have
been afraid of the hill falling
upon us and crushing us. .I
thought the tunnel was only a
hole made through the ground."
ES




THE TUNNEL.


In some places," said his
father, that is really the case;
but then it is where the ground
is made of hard rock, so that it
is as strong and even stronger
than a brick wall."
It is like building a house
of stone, like our country house,
instead of bricks, like our house
in London."
Yes," replied his father,
" only the stone walls of a tunnel
are not built, they are there all
ready made; you have only to
cut a road through them."
How hard it must be to dig
through the solid rock! they can-
not do it with aspade, can they ?"
No; sometimes they work
with a pickaxe, and sometimes




THE TUNNEL.


they blow up pieces of the rock
with gunpowder; but that you
are too young to understand."
Just then the train came out
of the tunnel, and Willy was
quite delighted to see daylight
once more. He now began to
feel very hungry, and inquired
of his Mamma when he should
dine.
We shall very soon arrive at
a station," replied she, "where
the train will stop for ten mi-
nutes, and as I do not think
you can eat your dinner in so
short a time, I believe that you
must dine with us when we reach
Derby; you may eat a luncheon
at the station, and then you will
be able to wait for a late dinner."




THE TUNNEL.


To dine in the dining-room
with Papa and Mamma was a
treat Willy had never yet known,
and he could not help jumping
about for joy ; then recollecting
the old lady, he stopped sud-
denly, fearful of disturbing her;
but she observed his forbear-
ance, and said, "Jump on, my
lad, in your own corner; I like to
see children happy when they
are good." But if Willy had not
disturbed the old lady, he had
awakened the young one, and
she awoke in very bad humour;
her eyes were so swelled with
crying, that Willy scarcely knew
her again, and thought she looked
ugly rather than pretty. She
too was hungry, and said the car-




THE TUNNEL. 45
riage must turn about and go
home to have dinner; her mother
promised she should have her
dinner very soon,.the first time
they stopped; so then Harriet
made up her mind to grumble
and whine until that time ar-
rived. Willy looked at her, and
thought what a sad thing it was
to be a spoiled child.







OLD AND YOUNG.

THE train now arrived at the
Wolverton station, where most
of the passengers alighted to take
some refreshment. There was a
large room, and tables covered
with good things for travellers
to eat. Willy would have filled
his pockets with sweet cakes and
fruit; but his mother knew that
would not be good for him,
so she allowed him to take
a large bun, and then gave
him some sandwiches. He had
hardly finished eating them,
when the little bell was heard
ting-a-ring-a-ring; and every
body understood what it meant.




OLD AND YOUNG.


" It seems to say," cried Willy,
"come away, ladies, come away,
gentlemen, from all those nice
things, or you will lose your
places; we are going to set off."
A great bustle there was, to be
sure, with the crowd of people
who were pushing their way out
of the room door, and then hur-
rying to their carriages.
When Willy and his Papa got
into their carriage, they found
neither the old lady nor the spoiled
child and her mother, but some
gentlemen had taken theirplaces.
And in another minute the train
began to move.
Oh dear !" cried Willy,
" they will be left behind; what
will they do ?"




OLD AND YOUNG.


They have no doubt come to
the end of their journey, and
are gone to the town, in which
they live, in one of those little
carriages called flies."
"Flies, Papa," repeated Willy,
" why are they called flies ? for
they are not a bit like one."
The carriage is not like the
shape of a fly," said his father;
"but it islike one by the quickness
of its motion. Flying is quicker
than trotting or galloping, and
these carriages are called flies
because they go so fast." They
were all glad to have got rid of
the spoiled child. Their new
fellow travellers talked among
themselves, and Willy and his
parents did so too. Willy felt




OLD AND YOUNG.


very grateful to the old lady for
all she had shown him; yet
still, Mamma," said he, "it was
rather hard, I think, to throw my
ball out of the window; for we
did not hit her bonnet on pur-
pose. And then as for laughing,
to be sure that was very wrong;
but it was so funny, how could
we help it?"
"Do you think, if the same
thing were to happen again, you
would laugh ?"
Oh no, certainly, I should be
more careful now that I know I
should lose my ball."
The old lady gave you warn-
ing; and you see that the lesson
has not been lost."




OLD AND YOUNG.


But I am sure you would
not have done so, Mamma, if
you had been the old lady."
"We ought, my dear, to make
some allowance for the infirmi-
ties of old people, which often
make them peevish and irri-
table."
"What are infirmities, Mam-
ma ?" asked Willy.
Old people can neither see
nor hear so well as young ones,
because their eyes and their ears
become worn out."
"Yes," said Willy, "the old
lady was obliged to put on her
spectacles when she read in her
book; and she made me repeat
what I said often, because she




OLD AND YOUNG.


could- not hear me till I spoke
louder."
"That," continued his mother,
"is owing to her eyes and her
ears being a good deal worn out;
and thpt is the case, I dare say,
also, with her limbs; her legs
begin to feel that her body is
a great weight to carry about; and
she cannot run, nor even walk so
quickly as you can. Then often
old people cannot sleep at night,
which makes them tired in the
day time; all these complaints,
though not exactly illnesses, are
called infirmities, and are very
wearisome to bear; it is there-
fore the duty of the young to
do all in their power to make




OLD AND YOUNG.


the old as comfortable as they
can, and to put up with a little
fretfulness and ill temper on
their part, without being angry."
"Oh, poor lady!" exclaimed
Willy; well, when I meet with
a cross old man or woman, I will
think of those infirmities you
have been telling me of. I am
sure if I had known about them,
I should never have laughed at
the old lady when she looked so
funny with the ball stuck in her
bonnet."
"That's right, my dear," said
his mother; "and on the other
hand, I think the old lady might
have had a little more indul-
gence for the weakness of chil-
dren-for children," continued




OLD AND YOUNG.


she, "have their infirmities as
well as old people."
"What infirmities, Mamma ?"
cried Willy with surprise; "I
am sure I can run and walk, ay,
and skip and jump as well as any
body, and see and hear too."
The infirmities of childhood
are not in general of the same
nature as those of old age; and
yet there is often a great resem-
blance between the two. A
child is feeble, because it has
not grown up to its strength; an
old person is feeble, because she
has lost strength. Little Sophy
is often obliged to be carried in
her nurse's arms, because she is
tired of walking; Grandmamma
can only walk a little way either,
F3




54 OLD AND YOUNG.


and wants a stick to support her.
Sophy suffers from tooth-ache,
because she is cutting her teeth,
which means that her teeth are
growing; Grandmamma has the
tooth-ache, because her teeth are
grown old and decayed. Sophy
is fed with pap and soft food,
because she has no teeth to
chew with; and Grandmamma
is obliged to mince her meat,
because the few teeth she has
are too much worn out to be
able to chew meat."
"Well," said Willy, never
should have thought Sophy and
Grandmamma had been so much
alike I Iam sure they do not look
alike at all, Mamma."




OLD AND YOUNG.


"No; in looks, youth has all
the advantage."
They now passed a luggage
train which was stopping at one
of the stations, and Willy was
very much amused with seeing
the number of cattle, and sheep,
and pigs that were closely lodged
in the waggons. I think those
poor creatures are too crowded
to be comfortable," observed he;
"I dare say they would like
better travelling on foot, as the
flocks of sheep often do."
I doubt it," said his Mother,
" for all along the road the dogs
and men are worrying them to
keep them together, and then
they are sadly tired before the




56 OLD AND YOUNG.
day is over: don't you think you
would be tired?"
"Oh, that I am sure I should,
but then I have only two legs
to walk on, and they have four;
so it must be much easier for
them. I wish old people had
four legs," continued he, "then
they would not feel the weight
of their bodies so great: I
know a poor old man who
makes himself two legs of wood
besides his own live legs, and
that is old Carter, who walks
on crutches; and then Grand-
mamma has three legs, when
she walks with a stick."










THE THIRD CLASS CARRIAGES, OR
THE MARKET GIRL.

WILLY'S Papa told him that
as he had been so long travel-
ling in the coach which was a
close carriage, he would take
him to another part of the train
where.the carriages were open,
as he had promised to do.
Willy was much pleased at
this, and when the train stopped
at a station, they got out, and
walked to another part of it.
He saw nothing like the open
carriages he had been used




58 THE MARKET GIRL.
to; there was neither phaeton,
nor gig, nor caleche; there
were, it is true, a number of
immensely large carts full of
people carrying baskets, and
they sat down on plain wooden
seats in long rows. Willy with
his Papa and Mamma sat next to
a rosy-cheeked young woman,
who had a large basket of live
fowls, and a smaller one of eggs
and butter.
"I am sure you could not carry
those heavy baskets?" said Willy.
"No, that I could not in-
deed," replied the young wo-
man; "I am obliged to get
some one to help me to take
them from the station to market,
or else pay the omnibus for




THZ MARKET GTRL.


doing so. But before we had a
railroad, I did not go so far as
Derby; I sold my things at Keg-
worth, and I could get no price
for fowls there; so I only took
butter and eggs to market."
Willy had already made an
acquaintance with the fowls in
the basket, the young woman
having placed it under his feet
as a footstool, for his little legs
were too short to reach the
ground. Now Willy having a
piece of the bun in his hand, the
remains of the luncheon, which
he was only nibbling because he
was no longer hungry, some of
the crumbs fell into the basket
and were greedily picked up by
the chickens; and finding it




60 THE MARKET GIRL.


very good, they tried to put
their beaks between the twigs
of the wicker to catch some
more. Willy, seeing this, every
now and then fed them; but
there was one old hen who,
being stronger than the chick-
ens, pushed them away, in order
to get all the crumbs for herself.
"No, no," said Willy, "get
away, and let the chickens have
their share." However, the hen
at last contrived to thrust her
head through the bars of the
basket, but there she was caught,
for she could not get it back
again. This made Willy laugh,
"It serves you right," said he.
"I am sure you cannot swallow
anything now you are caught in




THE MARKET GIRL.


a trap;" but when he saw that
the hen was really choking in
struggling to get her head free,
he was sorry for her, and the
young woman opened the bas-
ket, and got the head of the hen
back again, but she was a good
deal hurt, and lay at the bottom
of the basket very sulky.
She is well punished for her
greediness," said the girl, but
she will have time to come
round again before I get to mar-
ket, or else I should not be able
to sell her; folks would fancy
there was something the matter
with her, and I want to get a
good price for my fowls, that I
may have something more than
my mother reckons on: and then
G




62 THE MARKET GIRL.


I shall be able to spend that in
tea and sugar; for tea, she says,
comforts her more than any
thing."
Is anything the matter with
your mother," asked Willy, "that
she wants to be comforted ?"
Oh dear, she is blind," said
the girl, and I am sure that's
uncomfortable enough. Stone
blind! and yet she is not an old
woman neither, but she has got
what the doctors call a cataract,
and they say it can be cured, but
that the time is not yet come to
cure it; but when it does, we are
to take her to Derby to the
hospital, and there the doctors
will do something to her eyes.
Oh, I don't like to think of it,"




THE MARKET GIRL.


said she, shuddering, but then
they say she will see again, just
as she did years ago."
You need not be afraid of
the operation for your mother,"
said Willy's mother; I assure
you it is not painful."
Why, sure you have not had
it done to your eyes, Ma'am ? "
No; but I know from those
who have: it is called couching,
and if the eyes are carefully
bound up afterwards till they
get strong, she may see as well
as ever."
But," said Willy, I sup-
pose you will stay with her at the
hospital to take care of her."
No; I shall not be able,"
replied the market girl, I must
o




64 THE MARKET GIRL.


stay at home to take care of
the house, and of my younger
brother and sister, Johnny and
Betsey, who go to school."
"Then," asked Willy,"does no
body stay with your poor blind
mother when you go to market?"
It's lucky enough that one
of the market days is of a Sa-
turday, when there is a holiday
at school, and on Thursdays,
that's to-day, the little girl stays
at home on purpose to attend
to mother. Then, as for the
hospital she will want for no
care there, for we have a grand-
mother living at Derby, and
though she is old, she makes as
good a nurse as any one; and
she will be sure to take care




THE MARKET GIRL.


of her own daughter. Besides,
there are plenty of doctors and
nurses at the hospital," said she.
"Oh, Derby's a famous place
for poor folks; I suppose you
know all about the fine gardens
Mr. Joseph Strutt has made for
the people to walk about and
amuse themselves in ?"
No, indeed," replied Willy's
mother; we do not know Mr.
Joseph Strutt."
Not know him !" cried the
girl, lifting up her hands with
astonishment, I thought every
body knew Mr. Joseph Strutt.
Well, you are going to Derby,
where he lives; so pray go and
see him and his house full of
curiosities."




66 THE MARKET GIRL.


But as we are not acquainted
with him, we cannot take the
liberty of going to his house, or
walking in his gardens."
Oh, but you may," said the
girl, house and gardens are
open to everybody, gentle or
simple; but the gardens, I assure
you," added she, with a look of
self-satisfaction, were made for
the poor more than for the rich;
you rich people have gardens
of your own, but you may come
and see the Arboretum, that is
its name, and welcome, and then
I am sure you will say that none
of the gardens of the rich can
compare with this. And if you
chance to meet Mr. Joseph Strutt
there, it will do your heart good




THE MARKET GIRL.


even to look at him; he is so
gentle and so kind, and from his
looks you might think that in-
stead of doing good to all the
people about him, they were
doing good to him."
Oh, do let us go and see
him," said Willy, and all his
curiosities and the gardens too."
His father said they would try
to get introduced to him, for he
liked to see good people, ex-
tremely. When they reached
Derby, they took leave of the
market girl. Willy helped her
to lift the basket of chickens,
and he bid them good "by, too;
and he was very sorry to think
he should see her no more. I
should have liked to have seen





68 THE MARKET GMRL.
her little brother and sister too,"
said he.
I am afraid you have not
much chance of that," said his
mother; "but who can tell ?"









THE INN.

IN the mean time they went
to an inn at Derby. Willy had
never been at an inn, and knew
not what it meant. He sup-
posed it was the house of one
of his father's friends, to whom
they were to pay a visit. The
landlady was extremely civil, and
asked them what they would
like to have for dinner. She
said she had a nice young chick-
en and some green peas, and a
gooseberry tart, with a custard,
which she thought would please
little master. Willy replied,




THE INN.


" Oh, yes, that it will, thank
you, Ma'am;" and when she
went away, he asked why she
did not sit down and stay with
Mamma?
She is not a friend of mine,"
replied his mother, I never
saw her before."
Then why do you come to
her house, if you don't know
her, Mamma? You said you
could not go to Mr. Strutt's, be-
cause you did not know him."
His mother then explained to
him, that this landlady kept a
large house called an inn, or
hotel, on purpose to receive
travellers, and then made a bill,
and that they paid her for all
they ate or drank, and for the




THE INN.


use of the room they sat in,
and the bed rooms they slept
in. This house," said she,
" cost her a great deal of money,
and she has besides to pay for
all we eat and drink."
Oh yes," said Willy, the
nice dinner we are going to have
must cost her a great deal of
money, and she would not have
enough if we did not pay her."
So you see, Willy, she takes
money out of her pocket to
spend for us, and we put money
into her pocket to pay her back
again."
Willy was thoughtful for a
minute or two, and then asked
his Mamma whether she paid




THE INN.


the landlady just as much money
as she spent for her ?
Her bill comes to a little
more," said his mother, "for if
I paid her only just what she
spent for us, she would gain
nothing by us."
But she would not lose
either," said Willy ; if she
spent a sovereign for us, and
you paid her a sovereign, she
would neither gain nor lose."
I am glad to find you under-
stand accounts so well," said his
mother. But you must know
that this landlady keeps an inn
on purpose to gain money; she
wants money to pay for all she
and her children eat and drink,




THE INN.


and for their clothing and their
schooling, and I know not how
many things besides; now all
that I pay her more than she
spends for me she puts in her
pocket, and keeps to spend for
her own family."
And does everybody who
comes to the inn," asked Willy,
"pay her a little more ?"
Yes, certainly."
Then all the little mores
must make a great deal," ob-
served Willy. Oh, how nicely
that is contrived We get good
dinners and beds, and all we
want, when we go to the inn, and
the landlady gets the money she
wants to spend for her family;




THE INN.


so everybody gets something
good."
He then ran about, examin-
ing all the furniture, which was
new to him: he admired the
flowers on the carpet, and
was amused with the spring
blinds, and the round dumb
waiters, laughing heartily when
he was told that they were
called dumb waiters because
they could not speak; and when
dinner came he got one placed
beside him, and then whisper-
ing to his Mamma, begged she
would send away the live speak-
ing waiter, and make use of the
dumb one. So the knives and
forks and plates were placed




THE INN.


on the dumb waiter, and then
Willy, who had heard his father
and mother ask the waiter for a
knife or a plate, said in joke,
"Come, waiter, bring me a plate,"
and then added, "The waiter is
deaf as well as dumb, and be-
sides that, he cannot move."
Oh yes, he can," said his
Mamma; at least, if he cannot
walk, he can run, for the dumb
waiter runs on castors;" and she
pushed it towards Willy.
Oh, but I mean it cannot
move of itself, like an animal;
then it cannot feel, but I am
sure it can make other people
feel, for when you pushed it, it
gave me a good blow upon the
shoulder."




THE INN.


Willy was to sleep in a little
bed in his Mamma's room ; that
was a great pleasure, and the
new bed was another treat.
Then everything was new to
him in the room, and it was a
long time before he could go to
sleep, so much was he taken up
with the hangings of the bed,
which, instead of being plaited
full like the flounce of a gown,
were drawn up in festoons and
bordered by a fringe; then it
was red damask, not white, like
his own little bed at home; and
the paper, instead of having
green and white stripes like that
of his nursery, was covered all
over with flowers, which seemed
to him much prettier, and there




THE INN.


was an odd sort of wash-hand-
stand which stood like a naughty
boy in the corner; but one after
another all these things seemed
to fade away, he saw nothing
distinctly, and at last he fell
asleep.
The next morning, while they
were at breakfast, the landlady
came again, and said she hoped
they liked their breakfast, that
the eggs were quite fresh, for
her little daughter had brought
them in from the hen-house that
morning.
Willy could not help looking
at the landlady's pockets, to see
if they were big enough to hold
all the money that was paid her,
but he saw nothing but a bunch
H3




THE INN.


of keys hanging by her side;
then he thought so much money
would be too heavy for her to
carry about, 'so I dare say she
keeps it in a lock-up drawer, as
Mamma does, andthat the keyson
that bunch lock up the drawer;'
however, he said nothing. Then,
he thought, this little girl she
talks about is one of those she
buys clothes and food for with
the money that is paid her. I
wish I could see her.' After
breakfast his Mamma told him
he might go and play in the
garden of the inn, if he would
not meddle with any thing. It
was a pretty garden, with a great
deal of ripe fruit and many gay
flowers in it; but what pleased




THE INN.


him most was the sight of a little
girl gathering gooseberries in a
small basket; he asked her whe-
ther she was the little girl who
had brought in the eggs that
morning, and when she said that
she was, they soon got acquainted.
Willy asked her whether she
would let him help her. "That
I will," said Anna (for that was
her name), if you will not
eat any of the fruit; can you be
trusted ?"
To be sure," answered Willy,
a little offended that he should
not be thought trustworthy;
"why I am very nearly as old
as you are, and have as good a
right to be trusted."




THE INN.


Ay, that you may be," said
Anna, "but I have known boys
a great deal older than you are
come and steal apples in our or-
chard, and only call it fun. But
stealing can't be fun any way,
I'm sure. Now, Mamma knows
me and trusts me; but I don't
know you, so I don't know whe-
ther I ought to trust you; how-
ever, if you promise not to eat
any of the fruit you gather, I
will."
This was agreed upon, and
Willy gathered the gooseberries
so fast that the basket was soon
full; but when Anna came
to examine them, she found a
great many of them were not




THE INN.


ripe. Look here," said she,
" here is one, and another, and
another, quite green !"
Why they are all green,"
cried Willy, "they are not red,
but green gooseberries."
"Yes, but when green goose-
berries are ripe they are soft,
and look rather yellowish, like
these," said she, showing him
some ripe ones: well, I am
afraid I shall be scolded! "
Willy felt very sorry, and said,
" But I will tell your Mamma
that it was I who gathered them,
and then she will scold me, and
not you."
"Yes," said Anna, "she will
scold me for letting you gather
fruit when you did not know




THE INN.


which were ripe and which un-
ripe."
The two children looked ra-
ther dismal, till at length a
bright thought struck Anna. I
remember," said she, Mamma
told me to gather some unripe
green gooseberries, if I could
find any, to make some goose-
berry fool; now perhaps we may
just find enough in the basket
if we pick them out;" so they
emptied the gooseberries into
a large leaf, and picked out all
those which were unripe; and
Willy learnt to distinguish a ripe
from an unripe gooseberry, and
he said, I shall never forget it;
I was so much vexed for fear of
getting you scolded."




THE INN.


"But take care," said Anna,
" if you pinch them so hard to
feel if they are ripe, you will
hurt the gooseberries."
Hurt them," said Willy,
smiling, why they cannot feel."
Well," said Anna, I mean
spoil them ;" and just as she
said so Willy showed her a beau-
tiful large gooseberry, which he
held between the tips of his fin-
gers, saying, I am sure I need
not pinch this to know whether
it is ripe, it is so large and yel-
low, and looks as if you could
see through it."
But take care," said Anna,
"you do not let it fall by hold.
ing it so slightly, for it is so ripe
that if it fell on the ground I




THE INN.


dare say it would burst, the skin
is so thin."
So Willy grasped it tighter
between his fingers to prevent
it from falling, but he did not
consider that if he squeezed it
tight the skin might break; and
so it happened; his finger and
thumb met together in the mid-
dle of the gooseberry all wet
and sticky!
Well, now you may as well
eat it," said Anna, for no use
can be made of it." But Willy
was so much vexed, that he had
no wish to eat the gooseberry;
he felt angry with himself for
being so awkward, and fearful
that he should get Anna into
trouble. However, he just




THE INN.


sucked his fingers to get rid of
the wet, and he could not help
thinking what a pity so fine a
gooseberry should be lost, the
juice tasted so very nice.
Anna, who saw how really
sorry he was, now tried to con-
sole him, and laughed at the loss
of one gooseberry; she then
Covered the basket over nicely
with leaves, and took out an-
other, and, wishing to put Willy
into good spirits again, said,
This is to be filled with cher-
ries, and now you may help me
r better still, for you can easily
climb up this low tree and ga-
ther the cherries which I cannot
reach from the ground." Willy
knew how to climb, and Anna




THE INN.


held her apron spread out, and
stood right under Willy that he
might throw the bunches of
cherries into it. The cherries
being all ripe, Willy had not
the trouble of examining them ;
and, delighted with scrambling
from one branch of the tree to
another, he was soon as merry as
ever. Willy had not even wished
to eat a gooseberry; he was so
anxious to prove to Anna that
he could be trusted, that he
thought of nothing else; but
now these cherries looked so
plump and so red, that he longed
to taste them, and he was begin-
ning to forget the affront he had
received from Anna; but he did
not give way to the temptation,




THE INN.


for he had learnt to command
himself; but he hung two of
the cherries over each of his
ears, calling them ear-rings, and
threw down some very fine ones
for Anna to put on her ears,
saying, That is not eating the
cherries, you know," and they
laughed heartily at each other's
fine ear-rings. Who should
come into the garden just then
but their two Mammas, and the
landlady gave them leave to
eat some of the cherries they
had gathered. Oh, how glad they
were, the cherries were so sweet
and nice, and they had longed
for them so much !
They then all went to the
strawberry bed, and Willy was
i 2




THE INN.


obliged to take care that what
he gathered was ripe, for the
strawberries which looked quite
red on one side were often white
on the other. I wonder both
sides don't ripen at the same
time," said he.
Why, it is the sun ripens
them," answered Anna, and
there is only one sun to shine on
one side of the strawberries."
"Yes," said Willy; but
though there is only one sun, it
moves about, and shines on one
side of the strawberries in the
morning, and on the other side
in the afternoon, so they might
be both ripe together."
So they will, in time," said
Anna; but the sun cannot get




THE INN.


at them under these leaves, either
morning or afternoon."
"I think," said Willy, joking-
ly, that these strawberries are
cunning little things, and hide
themselves as much as they can
under the leaves for fear of being
gathered; for if I lift up a leaf,
I always find a strawberry un-
derneath."
"Let them stay there till both
sides are ripe," said Anna, "and
that they will be in a few days
if you leave them alone, for they
dJl't want much sun. Straw-
berries want more water than
heat."
"What a deal you know about
fruit and gardens," said Willy.
"That is because I live in the




90 THE INN.
country, and am used to gar-
dening."
Well," observed Willy, it
is like resting to pick straw-
berries after gathering cherries.
I declare my neck quite ached
with looking up to the cherries,
and now I have nothing but
looking down for the straw-
berries."








THE ARBORETUM.

WILLY was now called away to
accompany his parents to Mr.
Joseph Strutt's. He received
them with kindness, and Willy
thought him very good-natured,
for he took him over all the
rooms and showed all his cu-
riosities. There were birds
stuffed, and shells and paint-
ings; in a word, so many things,
and they filled so many rooms,
that Mr. J. Strutt had scarcely
any room left for himself. They
then begged that he would show
his celebrated garden.
It is not my garden," said




THE ARBORETUM.


he, I have given it away to
the good people of this town,
but I will go and show it you
with pleasure; but let us go in
the evening, the weather will be
cooler, and you will see a greater
number of people walking."
This was agreed upon, and in
the evening Mr. J. Strutt called
upon them at the inn, and ac-
companied them to the Arbore-
tum. When they came to the
gate, Willy thought it looked
more like a park than a garden
gate. There were a number of
people walking about, and when
they met M. J. Strutt, you could
tell by their countenances that
they knew him, they looked so
much pleased, and so respectfid,




THE ARBORETUM.


but they did not bow or courtesy
to him, because they knew that
he did not like to be publicly
noticed. He had told them,
once for all, 'If you make a fuss
about me I shall think myself
troublesome, and shall not walk
in your garden so often as if you
let me alone, and take no more
notice of me than of any other
person.' As they were walking
about, Willy observed a family
passing by, one of whom was a
blind woman; this put him in
mind of the market girl's mo-
ther; then there was a little boy
and girl with her, who might be
about the age of her youngest
children, and an old woman, who
might be their grandmother.




THE ARBORETUM*


But there was no market girl
with them, and Willy thought
it could not be them, they lived
so far off. Some time after-
wards they passed by again, and
then a young woman had joined
them, but she was so much bet-
ter dressed that Willy thought
it could not be her. However,
he peeped under her close straw
bonnet, and found that it really
was his old friend, and he cried
out, Oh! Mamma, there they
are, all of them ;" then, taking
hold of the market girl by the
hand, he said. Don't you know
me?"
"Oh! how do you do? Iam
very glad to see you," said she;
" I thought I should meet you




THE ARBORETUM.


here." Then, seeing Mr. Strutt,
she added, How lucky you are!
there is Mr. Joseph Strutt him-
self giving his arm to your
Mamma. So, then, you have
made his acquaintance.
But," added she, "I must
make you acquainted with my
little brother and sister too.
Did not I tell you," said she,
addressing them, that I met
with a nice little boy on the
railroad yesterday? well, this is
he."
The children were at first
very shy, and only answered
yes. Then Willy and his pa-
rents made acquaintance with
the poor blind woman and her




THE ARBORETUM.


old mother, whom the children
called Granny. .
Willy's Mamma talked a
good deal to these two women,
and told Mr. J. Strutt all about
them.
"Is Mr. Joseph Strutt here?"
asked the blind woman. Oh,
if I could but see him Betsey,"
whispered she to her little
daughter, "lead me towards
him, that I may hear him
speak." Mr. J. Strutt, who was
nearer to her than she thought,
took her by the hand, saying,
" With God's blessing you shall
see me one of these days, when
your eyes are cured; and I shall
go and see you when you come




THE ARBORETUM.


to our hospital, and I shall take
care that you are comfortable."
Willy then went to play on
the grass with the two children,
and when they were tired they
sat down on a soft smooth bank
under the shade of some spread-
ing trees, which was very plea-
sant, for they had made them-
selves hot with running to catch
each other. Then Willy asked
them how they came to be here,
when they lived so far off?
"Oh it's by the railroad,"
said Johnny : you must know
that every Sunday that Father
can make a holiday, he takes us
all to see Granny, who lives at
Derby. Did not Martha tell
you yesterday that we were to




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