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Group Title: The happy recovery and other stories for the young : with twenty-six illustrations.
Title: The happy recovery and other stories for the young
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00025047/00001
 Material Information
Title: The happy recovery and other stories for the young with twenty-six illustrations
Physical Description: 128, 8 p., 3 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Nimmo, William Philip, 1831-1883 ( Publisher )
Constable, Thomas, 1812-1881 ( Printer )
Trichon, François Auguste, b. 1814 ( Engraver )
Foulquier, Jean Antoine Valentin, 1822-1896 ( Illustrator )
Publisher: William P. Nimmo
Place of Publication: Edinburgh
Manufacturer: T. Constable
Publication Date: 1870
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1870   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1870
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: Scotland -- Edinburgh
 Notes
General Note: Illustrations engraved by Trichon after Foulquier.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00025047
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002231143
notis - ALH1511
oclc - 57439900
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Full Text


80 EGLANTINE OR

instruction up to about the age I have introduced her
at, and while possessing all the talents which go to
make an excellent governess, she wanted experience
-Eglantine's education being the first over which she
had presided-and 'twas she spoiled the child. She
did not see at the time all the sad consequences of her
over indulgence to her daughter. She did not see
Eglantine's predominant fault (a fault indeed the
most difficult to overcome). She flattered herself
that as Eglantine advanced in years she would acquire
more sense; she contented herself with reprimanding
her from time to time, instead of punishing her and
making her feel her error before it was too late to
remedy it.
However, seeing her daughter's negligence every
day increasing, she thought it would be a good plan
to keep a book in which she would write at night
everything that Eglantine had lost during the day,
with the cost of each article.
She did so, and in the list figured torn books,
broken playthings, new dresses stained or spoiled in
a manner that made them useless, pieces of bread
thrown in all corners of the house and garden, etc.
Not including lost articles, Doralice found that in one
month Eglantine's negligence cost her about 4.






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 81

At the end of a year she showed her daughter the
bill of all she had lost or destroyed during twelve
months, and it amounted to more than 6o50. Eglan-
tine, who was then only seven years of age, felt very
indifferent about the result of the calculation. Her
mother still hoped that she would become more
reasonable when she knew better the value of money,.
and continued her journal with the greatest exactitude.
She was aided in her work by the governess, who:
each night gave Doralice, on a sheet of paper, a
detail of the prodigalities of which she had been wit-
ness. Doralice put all those sheets in a box by them-3
selves, without adding them to the journal she was,'
writing. Very soon the memorandums of the gover-
ness became so numerous that the box could hardly
contain them.
The journal proved that Eglantine's indolence
and extravagance, instead of decreasing, was every)
day fast increasing. She often went now to walk,
in the park, where she lost in four months the,
value of 650 in jewelry. One time 'twas a ring,
another a locket, and next a brooch-all this without
taking into account the handkerchiefs and gloves for-.
gotten on the seats. When winter came her expenses.
were still greater. Eglantine, like all indolent people,






EGLANTINE OR


was always extremely cold. She was-constantly at
the fire, and invariably let something fall into it. Her
dresses were all burned, so that her wardrobe had to
be renewed nearly every month. When her masters
came to give her her lessons, she frequently complained
of headache, and thus excused herself from going to
them.
However, Eglantine was beginning to be no longer
a child; she was fast approaching her tenth year.
Her mother procured new masters for her. She tired
of the piano, not making any progress. She professed
to have a distaste for that instrument, and said she
would rather learn the harp. Doralice allowed her
to give up the piano, which she had been learning for
five years, and gave her a harp and engaged a master
to teach her. Eglantine was a year learning when her
master refused to give her any more lessons on account
of her want of application. She next tried the guitar,
but with equal success. At last the guitar was aban-
doned as well as harp and piano.
Eglantine had still other masters. She was being
taught drawing, English, and Italian. She had a
dancing-master, a singing-master, and a writing-
master; but the indolent Eglantine knew nothing, and
the expense she caused had no bounds. -Every month






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 83

her music, her books and maps, were all torn, and
more had to be bought. She no longer cared for her
harp, but left it exposed to the damp in a room where
the windows were frequently open. The strings
broke, and it had to be restrung. Her expenses were
more than six careful people's would have been.
Her excessive indolence rendered unbearable to her
any sort of subjection. Through her carelessness the
furniture in her room was all destroyed, and had to
be renewed once a year. Her hats, nets, etc., were
to be found all scattered about the room, and the
carpet was covered with pins. Her dresses were all
spotted with grease and ink, and though she remained
a long time over her toilet, yet she never appeared
tastefully dressed. She gazed without seeing, acted
without thought, and showed in all she did neither
grace nor elegance. Never going to the trouble of
putting on her gloves, her hands had become coarse
and rude. Her gait was most awkward and disagree-
able, as she had always accustomed herself to wear
loose slippers.
Such was Eglantine at sixteen. Doralice was
pleased to buy for her a pretty library, in hopes that
she might acquire a taste for reading. In obedience
to her mother, Eglantine read for a while in the after-






84 EGLANTINE OR

noons, that is to say, she held a book in her hand, but
she read with so little attention that it was impossible
for her to gain the smallest knowledge. So that even at
sixteen she was most inexcusably ignorant. Nothing
had been spared on her education, and yet she had
little or no knowledge of history, geography, grammar,
or orthography. She was equally incompetent in
writing, and although she had been ten years learning
arithmetic, she knew so little about it that a child of
seven years could compete with her.
About this time a young Viscount named Arzelle
begged to be introduced to Doralice. He was about
twenty-three years of age, and was as distinguished
for his virtues and character as he was for his noble
birth. He had both personal and worldly attractions,
for he was handsome and rich. He appeared to have
a great wish to make himself agreeable to Doralice
and to gain her esteem. He liked her simple way of
living, her sweetness and equal temper, and could not
help admiring her winning manners and her conversa-
tion, which was natural, solid, and interesting. He
had met her often at a relative's house, and though
he had paid her several visits, she never introduced
him to her daughter.
Qne evening Doralice invited the Viscount tq






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 85

supper, and at nine o'clock Eglantine appeared in the
drawing-room; that evening her mother presided over
her toilet. Eglantine had nothing very exquisite in
her dress; her hair was well arranged, and she had
her gloves on. The Viscount seemed struck with her
appearance, for she was really a handsome girl, but
-on observing her closely, he remarked that she had
not the manners or grace of a lady; and at the end
of a quarter of an hour, he took no notice of her,
and seemed almost to forget her presence in the
room.
However, he was regular in his visits to Doralice.
One day he found her alone, and spoke with such
confidence to her that she found courage to ask if he
never intended to marry.
Yes, madam,' he replied, but as my parents have
left me at perfect liberty in my choice, I feel I can-
not decide so easily. Interest or ambition will never
influence me; a blind passion will not make me act
foolishly. I wish to marry, not to acquire a large
fortune, or to gain a handsome woman, but to be
happy; so my choice will be a person of noble dis-
position, who has virtues to correspond, who belongs
to a family worthy of respect and love. Her mother,
for example, must possess all the qualities which dis-






EGLANTINE OR


tinguish you, as I would expect her to be the guide
of my wife.'
At that moment a visitor was announced, and this
put an end to the conversation.
A few days after, Doralice learned that the Viscount
had charged one of his servants to question her
domestics, and that he himself had asked one of her
masters to tell him the real truth about Eglantine's
character. He heard, and could not doubt, from
what he had seen, that Eglantine profited in no way
from the example of such a mother.
From that time the Viscount made his visits very
rare to Doralice's house, and soon ceased to go alto-
.gether. Doralice felt sure he would have married
her daughter, if she had had the good fortune to
have fewer faults, and this vexed her very much, as
she was naturally anxious to have Eglantine well pro-
vided for, and she would have preferred to give her
to Arzelle above any other.
More grief was still reserved for Doralice. Eglan-
tine was every day becoming more and more indolent,
and this gave her mother new sorrows.
At seventeen she was still under the same masters,
who should have been finished with her at twelve
years of age. She showed no taste for any occupa-






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 87

tion. However, she still retained her good affectionate
heart, which knew no change, and she fondly loved
her mother, and really often tried to conquer her evil
habit; and when she occasionally did get the better
of it, she astonished every one by the amount of in-
telligence she possessed. At such times, Doralice's
heart would refill with hope and joy, but this happi-
ness lasted only a very short period, for at the end of
a few days Eglantine would again fall into her ordi-
nary apathy. She felt her fault, but instead of per-
severing against it, she gave way to discouragement.
Besides, she never accustomed herself to reflect, and
she did not feel all the ingratitude she had to answer
for in having so badly repaid the anxious cares of her
fond and tender mother; she only said to herself:-
"Tis true I have caused many useless expenses, but
what is spent on me cannot affect much our large
fortune; besides, I am still very young, I am rich, and
'tis generally said I am handsome. With all these
qualities, I .surely can pass without education.'
'Twas exactly as if she had said-' I can live without
showing any gratitude to my mother. What would
be the use of making her happy if it cost me any
trouble This is how we reason when we are un-
accustomed to proper reflection. Eglantine never






EGLANTINE OR


sought to please or to obtain the approbation of those
who surrounded her. No one in her mother's house
had any affection or consideration for her. The
friends and servants looked upon her as a mere child.
She was so disobliging and so very insipid that she
often said and did many things out of their place.
In society she was perfectly tiresome. Any sort of
restraint was insupportable to her, and everything
seemed a restraint to her. The customs followed
and received by society appeared to her tyrannical;
she found politeness troublesome, and did not feel at
her ease but with the uneducated. Far from seeking
the counsel she so much needed, she shunned it,
because she did not feel she had courage and energy
enough to follow it. So when her mother pointed
out the many faults of which she was the unhappy
possessor, she listened with more vexation than repent-
ance. These conversations were always followed by
a fit of ill-humour, which lasted for days together.
She had no command over her temper, and she pre-
ferred to bear with her own faults rather than give
herself the trouble to adopt means for their correction.
Ever since Eglantine was ten years of age she had been
allowed money for her own use, but with all that she
was always badly dressed, and frequently in debt be-






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 89

side. ; She was now drawing near her eighteenth year
-a happy epoch to her, for she was then to be
released from further study and lessons.
On her birthday her mother went in the morning
to Eglantine's room, and sat beside her for a while.
'Eglantine,' said she, 'you are eighteen years old
to-day, and at that age people have generally com-
pleted their education. Up to this day I have done
all in my power to correct and instruct you, and here
is a proof of how you repaid me. This is the journal
of which I spoke to you so often; it contains a detail
of all you have lost since your childhood, and all the
useless expenses you have occasioned me. I have
added to it the list kept by your governess and your
waiting-maid, and the amount of all gives a total of
fully more than 40oo !'
Mamma, is that really possible 7' asked Eglantine.
"Tis too true, Eglantine; and bear well in mind
that I have not put down any indispensable expenses.
Think what your masters have cost me;-however, I
am glad to see that you write pretty well now-you
read music passably. I have not mentioned those
two masters in my journal, though I had to keep them
many more years teaching you than I should have
required to have done had you applied yourself better.







90 EGLANTINE OR

I have not counted either the expense of the mistress
I had teaching you fancy work, or the enormous
quantity of silk thread and velvet you wasted without
having anything to show for it.'
'But,' repeated Eglantine, four hundred pounds!
I can't believe it.'
I told you often, ay, a hundred times, that little
expenses often repeated soon make great ones, and
in the end, if persisted in, will ruin you. For example :
you have had two watches since you were eight years
of age, and not a single month passed from then till
now without your having to send them to be repaired
-at one time a glass was wanted, at another the
main-spring, and so on. Every month your watches
alone cost six or seven shillings, and sometimes even
more, so that at the end of ten years, for that one
item alone, the expense has been about forty pounds!
It would be wise if you could even now regret money
wasted like that, and reflect how much good could
have been done with it otherwise. The 400 you
have lost, my child,, might have made more than
twenty poor families happy in a time of need.'
This last phrase of her mother's made Eglantine's
tears flow. She took her mother's hands in her own,
and said-






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 91

'Oh mamma, how culpable I am If I have no
talents and no education, I at least know the elements
of all I have been taught.'
'I daresay that, my child; and if you would only
apply yourself seriously, you might yet regain part of
the money you have lost; but to do that, you must
have more perseverance and activity than you have
hitherto displayed. I know well-thanks to your
fortune and beauty-that you think you have less
need of education than other people; but is it reason-
able, because you possess those fragile and un-
certain advantages, that you should disdain the more
lasting ones, which, once acquired thoroughly, can
seldom be lost or forgotten ? Do you really think,
Eglantine, that sensible people are to be caught
by beauty alone ? 'tis soon lost, my- child; a fit of
sickness may rob us of it for ever. Can riches make
us happy I No. They may contribute to our happi-
ness, but the mind must be cultivated to enable us to
bear the many ills we are subject to in this world. If
your father's fortune were ruined, what would you be V'
These last words woke Eglantine from her reflec-
tions. She looked at her mother with fear. Doralice
ceased speaking, lifted her eyes to heaven, and after
a few moments' silence, which Eglantine did not dare






92 EGLANTINE OR

to interrupt, rose and went out of the room, leaving
her daughter overwhelmed with sadness.
The alarms of Eglantine were only too well founded;
for her father had engaged himself in immense specu-
lations, and in the end had ruined himself completely.
Doralice herself did not even know the full extent of
her misfortunes; but she guessed enough, and this
was why she had spoken so seriously to her daughter.
Mondor, in the hope of preserving his credit, endea-
voured to conceal the real state of his affairs. He
had not a mind capable of enduring adversity, and
the shock he got brought on a severe fit of sickness,
and all the unceasing cares of Doralice and Eglantine
could not preserve his life. He expired, cursing ambi-
tion, which had been the cause of his ruin and death.
Doralice tried everything in her power to satisfy and
settle with his creditors, but all the money he had left
would not do this. She had in her own right about
a thousand pounds, to which the creditors had no
claim; but, to meet the demands on her husband, she
gave up the interest for six years of her now only
support. Eglantine sold all the jewels she had got
from her father and mother in their prosperous days.
After making her arrangements, Doralice found she
would have to live for the six years on the money she






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 93

got for her jewels and family plate, which were of con-
siderable value.
'We must leave this country, my child, and go to
some other, where we can live on what we now have
for six years. My intention is to go to Switzerland
for that time.'
Oh, my mother, what a remorse for me when I
think of all I have cost you !'
'Think no more of that now,' said Doralice, em-
bracing her. 'If I could have foreseen the full
extent of our misfortunes, you would never have
known anything of the journal of your expenses; but,
Eglantine, I have burned it, and all it contained is
for ever effaced from my memory.'
'Ah!' replied Eglantine, falling at her mother's
feet, 'my-repentance is too real and sincere ever to
allow me to forget the faults you have forgiven with
so much generosity. I have every desire and hope
to repair them and make you happy as long as I
live. Oh mamma! a child worthy of you could
easily console you in your trials; I will endeavour to
be such a child, and to acquire the many virtues that
I so much need. You require a friend: I will be
that; and to obtain so dear a title, there is nothing
I will not attempt.'






EGLANTINE OR


No one could paint the emotion of Doralice in
contemplating her daughter at her feet bathed in
tears. She helped her to rise, and pressed her fondly
to her heart.
You have made me feel in this moment,' said she,
'all that the heart of a mother can desire. Do not
grieve any more for our reverse of fortune.'
In saying these words, Doralice could scarcely















restrain her tears,-the sweetest, and yet the saddest,
she had ever shed.
That night Eglantine complained of a violent
headache. The next day proved her to have a fever.
Her mother sent for the doctor. He came immedi-
ately, and after examining her, said she showed all





THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 95

the symptoms preceding small-pox. He was not
mistaken, for the malady soon developed in a most
alarming manner. The doctor did not hide from
Doralice that the attack was of the very worst
type, and advised her to absent herself as much, as
possible from her daughter's room; but notwithstand-
ing all his precautions, she never left Eglantine's bed-
side. Poor Eglantine became quite delirious, and
received the tender cares of her mother without ever
knowing who her kind nurse was. Even when she
was in her mother's arms, she would weep bitterly,
and say, 'Madam, my mother has abandoned me,
but I have deserved it. I never gave her a moment's
happiness, and now she has left me to die without
receiving her benediction. May God forgive me!'
These sad complaints would be muttered between
sighs and tears, and they pierced the very soul of her
poor afflicted mother. In vain she assured her
daughter of her presence; in vain she bathed her with
her tears : Eglantine heeded not. The malady made
rapid progress. Her entire body, but particularly
her face, was. covered with thick ulcers. Her eyes
became sightless; but this, as an ordinary attendant
on small-pox, did not at first alarm the doctor;
but as she was remaining in this state much longer






96 EGLANTINE OR

than is usual, he began to fear that she had lost her
sight for ever.
Thus in a few weeks, nay, almost in a few days,
poor Eglantine had lost her fortune and her beauty,
and now she was in great danger of losing her sight.
How true it is that this world's goods are ever held
without anything like security I One day might
deprive us of them for ever. All our care should be
to acquire, first solid virtue, and then the cultivation
of the talents God has given us. All else is but a
mere shadow.
Doralice remained three days and three nights by
the bedside of her daughter, and would not be per-
suaded to confide her charge to any one until the
fourth day, when the doctor found that the crisis had
passed favourably, and pronounced Eglantine out of
danger. During that day she opened her eyes and
recognized the loving face of the most tender of
mothers.
Thank God,' she exclaimed,' I see once more my
idolized mother.'
Tears checked her utterance, and she could not
express the passionate transports of her gratitude but
by her weeping. The doctor told her that it was her
mother's untiring care that alone preserved her life.






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 97

Oh my mother !' said Eglantine, 'how precious
that life is now to me How sad it would be to lose
it before I had ever proved to you my love and grati-
tude 1 I wish to live from this forward only to make
you happy.'
Eglantine would have said much more, but the
doctor forbade her, fearing that the exertion of speak-
ing might bring on a return of the fever.
From that day the disease abated, but it had made
a terrible ravage on poor Eglantine's once handsome
face. Her fine long hair fell out; and no one seeing
her three weeks before could now have recognized her
as the same person. Knowing how much she must
have changed, Eglantine never asked to see her face
in the mirror; however, the first day she was out of
bed, as her mother was conducting her to an easy-
chair in the next room, they had to pass a large look-
ing-glass, and Eglantine on perceiving herself could
not help trembling, and said-' Is that really the hand-
some face and figure which were once so much
admired I'
'Your regrets, now, my child, will be great indeed
if you have had the folly to attach great value to and
take any pride out of a beauty so soon gone. An. in-
stant may rob us of it, but a few years are sure to do it,'






EGLANTINE OR


You may perhaps think, my children, that Doralice
exaggerated a little in order to console Eglantine,
and that it is possible for us to preserve our beauty
after youth has gone. But no; beauty cannot exist
without youth. When we say that a woman of forty
is handsome, we should rather say was handsome;
for there cannot be real beauty without that brilliancy
of colour and freshness of complexion which are ir-
reparably lost with mature years, and which can be
preserved for any length of time only by exercising the
greatest care, and by sometimes sacrificing for it the
important duties of life. Compare then, my children,
this passing beauty that the slightest malady might
wither, and which at most is only lent us for a few
years, with that beauty of the soul which is ever with
us until we destroy it ourselves. It will be our consola-
tion, our guide through life, and will continue our
hope beyond the grave. No external beauty can of
itself give that noble expression to the eye which so
often moves; the mind and heart must have all to do
with it. No, no; Doralice did not exaggerate ; she
said with reason that one must be almost deprived of
their senses to attach great value to a thing that may
be so soon lost for ever.
At the same time that Doralice exhorted her






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 99

daughter to bear with resignation the loss she had
sustained, she pointed out to her how she could make
herself perfectly agreeable by cultivating her talents
and adorning her mind. Poor Eglantine was en-
lightened by her misfortunes, and was filled with
deep gratitude towards her mother; for when she
saw her now wholly disfigured face, she thought of all
the risk her mother ran in nursing her through such
a loathsome disease. She was fully determined now
to conquer her faults, to become more reasonable,
more active, more worthy in every way of the love of
her fond mother.
As soon as Eglantine's health permitted her to
travel, Doralice started with her for Switzerland.
They left Paris for Lyons, and thence to Geneva.
They stopped at Bellegarde to visit what, the people
of that country call The Wreck of the Rhone. No-
thing has a more curious effect than to see this grand
river sometimes entirely lost under enormous rocks,
in deep caves, and appearing again and rolling
rapidly over other rocks, forming splendid waterfalls.
This place is surrounded with high mountains, pro-
found precipices, and huge rocks all covered with
moss. The sight is sufficient to make any one who
witnesses it for ever tired of the English gardens,







o00 EGLANTINE OR

where every art is employed to imitate nature. After
passing a few days at Geneva, Doralice took a drive
by the delightful borders of the lake with the inten-
tion of looking after a house where she might settle
down. She at length stopped at Morges, a pretty little
town between Geneva and Lausanne, on the borders
of the lake, and charmingly situated.
Doralice rented a small house in this agreeable
retreat. The windows of her sitting-room looked on
one side on a splendid fertile country, and the other
on the lake of Geneva, with immense mountains
covered with snow nearly all the year round as a
background. No one who has not seen them can
form an idea of these mountains. They exhibit a
thousand different aspects in the same day. At day-
break their summits and rocks are pink, the snow
which covers them having the appearance of trans-
parent clouds. As the sun becomes warmer, the
colour deepens, and is either grey or violet. At sun-
set they are like huge blocks of gold deeply set with
different coloured stones.
The lake of Geneva presents varieties as remark-
able. When calm, the water, pure and limpid,
reflects the heavens; but when agitated, 'tis boister-
ous as the roughest sea, producing also the same






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. Ioi

majestic roar. Turn by turn calm and tumultuous,
it charms, it astonishes the eye by scenes old yet ever
new.
Eglantine would often say to her mother, in ecstasies
of delight, How insipid everything I have admired
up to this appears to me now i How monotonous
the boulevards and pleasure-gardens of Paris are,
compared with what is now before us !'
'I don't believe, Eglantine, that any poet or painter
could attempt to write or paint perfectly the beauties
of nature without having first visited Italy or Switzer-
land. Louis Backhuysen, a famous Dutch painter,
would sit for hours on the beach, when the sea was
roughest, trying to catch every change and movement
of the waves.
'Rugendas, a remarkable painter of battles, assisted
at the bombardment and taking of Augsburg.
Several times he risked his life in order to make a
perfect painting of the battle-field. He was often
seen in the middle of the fight taking a sketch with
as much care as if he were in his studio.
Van der Meulen followed Louis xiv. through all
his conquests, taking sketches of fortified cities and
their surroundings, the encampments, the halts, the
bivouacs, etc., in order to perfect the pictures which






EGLANTINE OR


so truly depict the great deeds done by that prince.
What courage inspires the heart which possesses the
noble desire to distinguish itself through all time !
but when we content ourselves to work for the pre-
sent moment, we need not the courage nor those

Al-


-el k. T








talents which inspired our forefathers to brave so
many dangers.'
Eglantine listened to her mother with the greatest
attention. Not very long ago she would have re-
mained insensible to the charms.of her conversation,
her indolence preventing her from taking anyinterest in
it; but her late misfortunes had produced an alteration
in her as sudden as it was astonishing. Her character
was altogether changed. She reflected, and took a
delight now to converse on interesting and instructive


102






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 103

subjects with her mother. Besides, she always tried
everything in her power to repair the past by her con-
duct. She worked with the greatest zeal now to acquire
knowledge. She neglected nothing to improve her-
self and cultivate her mind. Though she devoted all
her time to study, she never felt weary of it, as it
amused her and gave her great delight.
At first she had no other motive in applying her-
self but to please and satisfy her mother, and to
prove her gratitude; but she soon became delighted,
and surprised herself at the rapid progress she was
making, and found that much pleasure could be
gained by the pursuit of learning. Very soon she
made up for the time she had lost, by her ardour, her
patience, and her untiring application. She acquired
a perfect store of solid and superior talents, and this
agreeable retreat became more dear t6 her every day.
As two ladies could live almost luxuriously at
Morges on 140 a year, Doralice did not feel much
her reverse of fortune. She occupied a very neat
little house. The fruit and milk, which she had in
abundance, were delicious, and the fish from the lake
of Geneva left nothing to be desired. She had also
made many acquaintances both in Morges and Lau-
sanne.






EGLANTINE OR


In this happy country, which luxury has not yet
corrupted, you will find that pure simplicity of
manners and customs so rarely met with in other
places. The women are amiable, educated, and
virtuous.
Doralice and Eglantine often went to Lausanne to
visit a young widow named Isabella, who possessed
with great beauty of person many agreeable talents,
and a most attractive mind. She became a very
dear friend to Doralice and Eglantine, and fre-
quently returned to Morges with them. They often
went for long walks together, and occasionally took
a boat on the lake for a few hours. They knew
about fifteen people, with whom they associated and
.passed many pleasant evenings. When the weather
permitted, they would all join in getting up pic-nic
parties. Eglantine was the principal ornament of
their circle. She was not pretty now, but she made
herself so agreeable by her talents and disposition
that she was loved by all who knew her. She had
preserved her fine figure, the only thing that could
now be admired in her person. She did not dress
expensively, but with great taste. Her face was full
of fine expression, though 'tis true she had lost that
beauty which attracts so many.






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 105

They were now more than eighteen months residing
at Morges without having gone any further into
Switzerland, as they had at first intended. However,
as Doralice was anxious to show her daughter as much
of the country as she possibly could, she decided to
leave her house, also the amiable Isabella. They left
about the end of June, and went as far as Berne;
a town as remarkable for the regularity of its buildings
as for the beauty of its situation. The streets are
very long, and separated in the middle by a small
stream of clear water. On each side are handsome
arcades forming enclosed galleries, and paved with
marble. The walks round Berne are delightful and
varied.
Doralice remained a few days at Berne, visited all
the places of interest, and then proceeded to Grindel-
wald, about twenty miles further on. Hence they
went to Ziirich, where they got introduced to the
great poet and painter, Gessner. Where could he
write his charming idylls better than in Switzerland,
where virtue shows itself in so many different forms I
Why are his works so simple and yet so charming I
Why have they been translated into so many lan-
guages ? 'Tis because the author has felt what he
expresses, and has seen what he paints. He accom-






EGLANTINE OR


panied Doralice in nearly all her walks; pointed out
to her all the places of interest he had sketched or
described in his verses. Doralice admired above all
the vine grove where he composed his delightful idyll
of Mirtyle.
Doralice and Eglantine remained a week with
Gessner. They met him in the midst of his family,
saw him at his occupations, and he was ever the same
mild man-a true philosopher and worthy painter of
nature.
After an absence of two months, Doralice and her
daughter found themselves once more at their house
in Morges. Isabella came and passed part of winter
with them.
Spring had again come round; it was now two
years since Doralice had left Paris. Eglantine was
nearly twenty, and was the pride and delight of her
mother.
One evening as they were walking by the lake they
met a young man dressed in black ; he walked slowly,
and seemed lost in some sad reverie. In passing
Doralice he raised his eyes, and started with surprise.
. Doralice recognized him at once as the Vis-
count Arzelle. After the usual compliments were
over, he told Doralice that he had just lost his father,


io6






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 107

and that since his death his residence at Paris had
become lonely and tiresome to him-that he was now
travelling through Switzerland, where he intended to
spend two months, and then go into Italy. As night


was approaching, Doralice took the road towards
home. The Viscount asked permission to accom-
pany her, and offered her his arm. He had saluted
Eglantine, but the darkness of the night prevented
him noticing the change in her since their last meet-






EGLANTINE.


ing. They soon arrived at the house. Doralice
stopped.
'What, madam !' said the Viscount, 'is this where
you live 7' and then he seemed to think of the im-
mense fortune that Doralice once had, and of the use
she made of it, and that she might now be living in
a humbler station in order to clear her husband's
debts. She made him go in and showed him her
sitting-room, which was furnished and ornamented
with great taste.
'Every ornament you see in this room,' said Dora-
lice, was done by Eglantine; she worked that otto-
man and drew those landscapes.'
The Viscount could not conceal his surprise, which
almost amounted to incredulity. He looked at Eglan-
tine, and now for the first time saw the sad change in
her features. Eglantine smiled, and a deep blush
mantled her face; the Viscount scrutinized her with'
great curiosity. He began to get quite interested
about her, and could not fail to admire the graceful-
ness of her figure, and the expression of her face-
esteeming the beauty she had acquired a thousand
times better than that which she had lost. Her con-
versation surprised him still more-he could hardly
persuade himself that she was the same person he had































Eglantine.sang and played the harp.-P. IIo.






10o EGLANTINE OR

met before, who was so indolent and rude. He could
not conceive how three years had produced such a
change. In wishing them good-night, he asked Dora-
lice's permission to renew his visits; and came again
the day after, and remained the greater part of it in
their company. In the evening they had some
music; Eglantine sang and played the harp.
The Viscount thought he was dreaming; he could
not make himself believe that the accomplished being
who now enchanted him was the Eglantine he knew
so utterly ignorant, and whom he would not marry
notwithstanding her beauty and large fortune. Every-
where he now went Eglantine was spoken of. She
had gained every one's esteem by her graceful man-
ners, her sweetness of disposition, and love for her
mother.
Arzelle was now two months in Switzerland, and
yet he never spoke of going to Italy. He was in
Doralice's society as often as he possibly could. He
was timid and reserved before Eglantine, and often
could not dare speak, but he listened and observed
with an attention which nothing could dissipate. He
remained another month at Lausanne, and at length
opened his heart to Doralice, asking her daughter's
hand in marriage.






THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. iii

'You deserve to get it,' said Doralice, 'for you re-
fused my daughter when she was rich and beautiful.
You ask her now when she is neither the one nor the
other. It must be her mind and virtues that inspire
your attachment for her, and I believe in the discre-
tion of such a love. However, 'tis sometimes rather
difficult to depend on one's-self. I would wish you
to reflect seriously before making an engagement that
would fix your and my daughter's future life. Leave
us for six months; at the expiration of that time, if
you come back with the same sentiments, Eglantine
is yours.'
At these words the Viscount threw himself at
Doralice's feet and implored her not to retard his
happiness. But Doralice was determined, and would
not allow his entreaties to influence her, so the.
Viscount went off in despair the next day. He did
not leave Switzerland during the six months, but went
about from town to town. When the time of his exile
had expired, he hastened back to Morges.
One evening Doralice and Eglantine were alone in
their sitting-room; the door opened and the Viscount
appeared and presented himself to Doralice. For
the first time he spoke his sentiments in Eglantine's
presence. He asked for her hand, and protested he







112 EGLANTINE.

would never wish that they should be separated from
Doralice.
Eglantine said that this was the only condition on
which she would become his wife, and the Viscount
assured her that so natural a sentiment only made her
dearer to him.
That night Doralice signed the marriage-contract,
and in five days after the Viscount had his greatest
wish accomplished in espousing the amiable Eglan-
tine.

























EUGENIE AND LEONCE
OR THE BALL DRESS.


ADAME Palmene, though still young, had
been a widow for some years, and devoted
herself entirely to the education of her only
daughter, who was the sole object of all her cares.
When her husband died, he was deeply in debt, and
Madame Palmene had to leave Paris and live in Tou-
raine, where she possessed some land. The house
was very antique and large, and everything around
H







Ir4 EUGENIE AND LEONCE

and about it showed the noble simplicity of its ancient
masters. It was in this old-fashioned dwelling that
Eugenie (this is the name of Madame Palmene's
daughter) passed the early years of her life, and here
she acquired a great taste for the natural amusements
of a retired country life. During the genial spring
and summer months she took long walks with her
mother. When the days were too hot they would
choose the evening for their exercise, and used often
to go to a forest,, where they rested in the shade and
breathed the fresh air. She had for a play-compan-
ion the daughter of her governess. This girl's name
was Valentine. She was four years older than
Eugenie, and was a very good-hearted and talented
child. She took all her lessons with Eugenie, and
had such a winning manner that her young mistress
looked on her, and with reason, as a friend.
Eugenie was now in her sixteenth year, and ws a
gay, lively girl, with a well-trained and cultivated mind
and an equable disposition.
In order to finish Eugenie's education, her mother
determined on taking her to Paris; and so she left
her agreeable solitude about the end of September,
and went to the capital, where she rented a small
villa: Madame Palmene found a great many of her







OR THE BALL DRESS. 115

former acquaintances in Paris, amongst them the
Count Amilly, a very old friend of her husband's. He
was a widower, and had one son, who was now in
his eighteenth year. Leonce was his name, and he
had been travelling in Italy and other places for two
years. Count Amilly came very often to sup with

SI ,,' I
i ? '.
['










Madame Palmene. Eugenie always retired to her
own room at ten o'clock, and whenever she was
absent the count used to tell Madame Palmene how
much he admired her daughter's talents, reserve, and
sweetness of disposition. Then he would praise his
own son, talking of his courage, his character, and
generous heart. They would converse for several
hours on their children, and were often astonished
that the time passed so quickly.







Ir6 EUGENIE AND LEONCE


Count Amilly never explained himself further.
However, one day he said, in speaking of his son,
' Leonce will have a large fortune; but before I give
him possession of it, he must first prove to me that
he is qualified to use it properly. When he comes
home from his travels he will be twenty years of age.
I will then look out for a wife for him with an ami-
able disposition, and whose character and graces will
make him love and cherish her.'
It was just two years since Madame Palmene came
to live in Paris. Eugenie was now nearly eighteen
years old. One evening Count Amilly called to see
Madame Palmene, and asked permission to introduce
his son (who had just returned) to her daughter. A
tall, handsome young man then drew near and saluted
Madame Palmene. She invited them to remain for
supper. Leonce spoke little, but he seemed very
much taken up with Eugenie's manner and appear-
ance.
The next day the Count and his son came again to
visit Madame Palmene. She said that it was not her
wish to receive so frequently at her house young men
such as Leonce.
'But, madam,' said the Count, 'you must judge if
he be a suitable match for your daughter.'







OR THE BALL DRESS,


'What do you mean my daughter to be his wife 7'
'Yes, madam, his and my happiness depend on
your answer. They must get time and opportunity
to know each other better; and if he is fortunate
enough to gain your good opinion, all my wishes will
be realized.'
This was plain enough speaking, certainly. Ma-
dame Palmene said she felt much flattered at his pre-
ference. However, she would hear of no engagement
before consulting her child more particularly, and
making herself better acquainted with his son's dis-
position.
Some time after this the Count asked again for her
answer, and, from all that she could see or hear, she
did not hesitate to give it in the affirmative; and so
the marriage-contract was signed. In the course of
a few days Leonce and Eugenie were married, and
left Paris at once for their home, which was situated
about ten miles out of the city; and it was decided
that they should not come back to the capital until
the end of August.
Madame Palmene accompanied them, and remained
three months, at the end of which time she was
obliged to return home to settle some business
affairs.






Ii8 EUGENIE AND LEONCE.

Nearly two months had now elapsed since Madame
Palmene left her daughter. Eugenie never went once
to Paris all that time. She became every day dearer
to her husband. They often went out for a walk in
the woods together. Leonce would tell her of all
his travels, and she felt extreme pleasure in listening
to his interesting tales. Eugenie often sang for him.
She had a soft melodious voice.
One evening Eugenie noticed an old man in the
fields. She found out that his name was Jerome, and
that although he was eighty years of age, he was the
only support of a sister who was paralyzed, and of
five grandchildren. Eugenie had a great wish to re-
lieve this poor old man, but her purse was very
limited. 'T was true her father-in-law was rich, kind,
and noble; but he wished to teach his son and daugh-
ter to'know the value, almostthe want, of money before
he allowed them to enjoy it. He often said to them,
' When you prove to me that you know the worthy use
of money, I shall leave my purse at your command.
In five years, perhaps, if I am sure you will be able
to manage money properly, I shall be happy to allow
my son to be the free manager of my affairs.'
You have given me a great fortune in my amiable
wife,' replied Leonce; I desire no more.'




















































They often went out for a walk in the woods together.-P. 118.
119





120 E UGENIE AND LEONCE

Eugenie found their income ample enough. She
economized in every possible way, and tried to spare
a little to give to the poor and needy.
Valentine was now on a visit with her, and that
night when she came in she told her all about the
old man, and begged she would take him some relief
the next day.
In the morning the Count came to breakfast with
them, and brought with him an invitation to a
magnificent feast, which was to be given at Paris, in
about three weeks from the time of his arrival.
'I am anxious that you should go, Eugenie,' said
he, and I will provide a ball dress for the occasion.'
In saying this he placed in her hand a purse con-
taining fifty sovereigns.
When Eugenie was alone she called Valentine and
said-
Here are fifty pounds my father-in-law gave me
to buy a ball dress. I am sure I shall be able to buy
one for forty pounds which will be handsome enough,
so I will give the other ten to Jerome; but first,
Valentine, I would like you to go and find out in the
village if all I heard of this poor man is true; if so, I
will myself take the money to him.'
In the afternoon Valentine returned from the






OR THE BALL DRESS.


village and told Eugenie that she had made every
inquiry she could concerning the old man, and that
she had even gone to visit the house he lived in, and
found the paralyzed sister and the eldest of his grand-


children attending her. She was a girl about twelve
years of age. The sick woman was in bed and the
room seemed very neat and cleanly kept. She also


121


.. .~


M j






122 EUGENIE AND LEONCE

learned that Jerome was a man very much respected
by all the villagers, that he was very honest, and the
best brother and grandfather in the whole country.
'Let us go at once then,' said Eugenie; 'I have
the purse in my pocket that my father-in-law gave
me; let us away and share some of the money with
the poor family.'
Eugenie took Valentine's arm, and both went out,
after instructing the servant to tell Leonce, who was
engaged in the next room, that they had gone on a
short errand and would return soon.
They arrived at the field where Jerome usually
was working and sought him everywhere about;
but, not being able to find him, they inquired
of some of the other workmen if Jerome had not
been there to-day. They said yes, but that the
dreadful heat of the sun had forced him to retire for
a while, and that he had gone to seek a few moments'
repose in the shade, and that they thought he was at
the river side under one of the trees.
Eugenie and Valentine turned in the direction the
workmen told them, and soon perceived the old man
asleep and surrounded by his four grandchildren.
They approached gently for fear of disturbing him,
and stopped a -few moments at a little distance in






OR THE BALL DRESS. 123

order to contemplate the interesting group. The
good man slept soundly. A pretty little girl about
eight or nine years of age was attaching her apron to


the branches of the tree over his head to shade his
face from the burning heat of the sun. One of her
brothers was assisting her, while the other two had






124 EUGENIE AND LEONCE

little branches in their hands keeping off the flies and
midges from his face. The little girl, on seeing the
strangers advance, held up her hand and made signs
to them not to make any noise. Eugenie smiled, and
walked very slowly on tip-toe. She embraced the
little girl in silence, then said in a low voice-
'I want to speak with your grandfather when he
wakes. You can go away a little and play with your
brothers, and do not come till I tell you.'
The child withdrew as she was bidden, but showed
some reluctance, as also her brothers, and they said
that 't was only on condition that Eugenie would
promise to keep the flies from tormenting their
grandfather. Eugenie agreed to do so, and taking
one of the little branches, sat down under the tree
with Valentine.
Then Eugenie took her purse from her pocket and
counted ten sovereigns on her lap, and, looking at
the old man, said to Valentine-
'How calm he sleeps! How imposing his face
appears! Eighty years of age, and still having to
work so hard What a great deal he must have had
to endure in the course of so long a life !'
'Remember, madam, the joy that awaits him when
he wakes. Ten sovereigns will be to him a great gift.'







OR THE BALL DRESS.


'But, Valentine, this small sum cannot last him
long. Oh how I would wish to be able to give him
enough to allow him to rest for the remainder of his
life. Ten sovereigns will only save him from work-
ing for a short time, but a sufficient sum would make
him happy for ever in this world. My ball dress will
cost forty, and what pleasure will it afford me I None.
I think, Valentine, I could get a dress for ten sove-
reigns, that would suit me better than a richer one.
What do you think 1'
'I, madam! I should be delighted to see you
beautifully dressed.'
'Ah! Valentine, look at that poor old man, and
you will soon forget such a vain idea. Think of the
happiness I should procure for him by giving him
forty sovereigns.'
'But, madam, you might be the only one at the
fete simply dressed, and that might displease your
father-in-law when he gave you so much money to
procure a rich dress.'
'That's very true, Valentine, and perhaps Leonce
would not be pleased either; however, they are both
so kind and generous Let us go back to the house
before we give him anything, and I will consult with
my husband.'






126 EUGENIE AND LEONCE

In saying these words, Eugenie rose, and, in
turning round, heard some one stirring behind her,
and at the same moment she perceived Leonce
hiding from her.
'Oh my sweet wife,' said he, 'I heard all you said;
forgive me for playing the listener. In trying to
secure this poor man's happiness you have completed
mine, and have taught me also how much you merit
my love.'
Leonce was still speaking when Jerome woke.
Eugenie and her husband drew near to him. The
old man looked at them with an air full of astonish-
ment, and out of respect to them was about to rise,
Eugenie told him to be seated, but he said-
My lady, I have work still to do; I fear I have
rested too long already.'
'No,' said Eugenie, 'work no more to-day.'
'Oh but I have need to do it.'
'I will give you your day's wages; take this purse.
I hope 'twill make you as happy to receive it as it
makes me to give it to you.'
She then placed the purse in the trembling hands
of the old man. Leonce looked upon his wife with
more pride than he ever had done before.
The old man gazed on the purse with amazement







OR THE BALL DRESS.


and opened it. He had never before in his long life
seen forty sovereigns together. He rubbed his eyes
and fancied he must be dreaming. Eugenie enjoyed
his surprise.
Madam,' said he at length, what have I done to
merit such a large and generous gift I Oh madam,
may the Lord reward you !'
He could say no more, for tears choked his utter-
ance. Just then all the little children came running
up. Eugenie embraced once more the little girl,
bade adieu to the old man, and took the road home
with Leonce and Valentine.
Eugenie did not wish her father-in-law to know
what she had done with the money until after the
ball, fearing that he would be sending her more
to buy a dress.
At last the day arrived. Leonce and Eugenie left
their home for Paris.
Eugenie attracted every eye at the ball, not only
by her youthful and beautiful appearance, but by the
elegance and simplicity of her dress.
At day-break they returned home. The Count
listened to the story of the old man with joy and real
pleasure. The next day Eugenie and Leonce paid
a visit to the poor man, and they told him that his






128 EUGENTIE AND LEONCE.

work was over for the rest of his life. She sent the
little girl to Paris to learn dressmaking, and the
eldest boy was apprenticed to a joiner. The Count
Amilly gave the old man a little house and a few
acres of land, also a cow.
Eugenie too was rewarded, for every one loved and
respected her. The Count now saw that his children
knew and appreciated the proper use of money, and
so he gave them full possession of the fortune he had
destined for their use.









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I.
WISDOM, WIT, AND ALLEGORY.
Selected from 'The Spectator.'
II.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN:
A BIOGRAPHY.
In.
THE WORLD'S WAY:
LAYS oF LIFE AND LABOUR.
IV.
TRAVELS IN AFRICA.
THE LIFE AND TRAVELS or
MUNGO PARK.
With a Supplementary Chapter,
detailing the results of recent
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V.
WALLACE,
THE HERO OF SCOTLAND:
A BIOGRAPHY.
By James Paterson.
VI.
EPOCH MEN,
AND Hi RESULTS OF THEIR
LIVEs.
By Samuel Nell.


VIL
THE MIRROR OF CHARACTER.
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OVERBURY, EARLE, AND BUTLER.
VIII.
MEN OF HISTORY.
By Eminent Writers.
Ix.
OLD WORLD WORTHIES;
Of, CLASSICAL BIOGRAPHY.
SELECTED FROM
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x.
THE MAN OF BUSINESS
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m.
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IV.
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V.
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Thomson's Poetical WorksII.
Thomson's Poetical Works.


IX.
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xI.
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XI.
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xm.
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xrv.
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5


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xvI.
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Two Volumes, price 8s. 6d. each.
xvn.
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xvII.
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The Vicar of Wakefield.
soem asub ossaps.
BT OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
II.
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m.
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of Robinson Crusoe.


IV.
.Esop's Fables,
mittr gnstruntibt 9pliaations.
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PATRICK FRASER TYTLER, F.R.S.E., BY T. S. ARTHUR.
Author of 'History of Scotland,' etc.
VT.
11. Lessons from Women's Lives.
Seeing the World BY SARAH J. HALE.
foubnng Sailor's Qlan 5tay. VII.
!f CHSailoS r's DHSto. The Roseville Family:
BY CHARLES NORDHOFF. i Aist vl le of t
L. tfigtiatntlj etnturg.
BY MRS. A, so ORR.
The Martyr Missionary: B M A.. .
fibz etars in titna. Leah:
By REV. CHARLES P. BUSI, M.A, t o f te of n i h l il, *i .
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With Instructive Applications.
BY DR. CROXALL. VII
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Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. and Merton.
IV. Ix.
The Young Man-of-War's Evenings at Home;
Man, Or, The Juvenile Budget Opened.
A Boy's Voyage round the World.
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The Treasury of Anecdote: By MRS. GEORGE CUPPIES, Author
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Elizabeth; Win Them,
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III. Great Riches.
Paul and Virginia. x., a
iv. The Right Way, and
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