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ADVENTURES
PINCUSHION:
DESIGNED CHIEFLY FOR THE
USE OF YOUNG LADIES.
Imagination here supplies
What Nature's sparing hand denies ;
And by her magic powers dispense,
To meanest objects, thought and sense.
Eontron :
J. FAIRBURN, Featherstone Street, City Road.
TUB
ADVENTURES
OF A
PINCUSHION.
IT happened one very fine afternoon in the
latter end of May, that Mrs. Airy had been
collecting together a great number of different
pieces of silk, in order to make a work-bag ;
which she intended as a present to one of her
nieces. Miss Martha Airy, her eldest daugh-
ter, was about ten years old, and had been for
some time indolently lolling with both her
elbows on the table, looking at her mamma
while she was choosing the prettiest pattern
for the purpose I just mentioned. Her chin
rested on her two hands, which were crossed
over eacli other, and she was seated on the
the back of her brother's chair, which he had
B 3
6 THB ADVENTUREi OF
turned down in that manner for the purpose
of serving him as a horse. At last, however,
her weight proving too great for the seat she
had chosen, as she did not keep still, the
upper-part of the chair-back came to the
ground, while the other end mounted up like
a piece of board for a see-saw ; and in her fall
tumbling down backwards, proved the occasion
of a great deal of mischief, by over- setting a
curious set of tea-china, which her sister
Charlotte was playing with; and which she
had received as a present the day before horn
her grand-papa. Charlotte was so enraged
at the loss of her play-things, that, without
offering to help her sister, she gave her a
slap on the face, and told her, she was very
naughty to spoil things in such a manner by
her carelessness ; and that she would break
her plates whenever they came in her way.
She was proceeding in this manner, when
Mrs. Airy thought it time to interfere, am
was extremely angry with Charlotte for he
warmth. " Martha was not to blame," adde«
die, " as she had no intention of doing tht
A PINCUSHION. 7
least mischief to your cups and saucers. I
thick, as I told her once before, she was not
sitting in disgraceful attitude, and had she
moved at the time I spoke to her, it would
have prevented her fall ; but that is no jus
tification of your behaviour to your sister.
She has not deserved your reproaches, and I
did not think you could have behaved so
improperly, as well as unkindly, as to strike
any one, especially your elder sister. Indeed,
I am much displeased with you ; and the
threat you made of breaking her plates in
return, is so very naughty and wicked, that I
think you deserve to be punished ; and 1
desire you will ask Martha's pardon for the
blow you have given her." Charlotte colour-
ed with indignation and anger, at the thoughts
of submitting in such a manner to humble
herself. She had heard some silly girls declare,
they would never own their being in the wrong,
and was withheld from acting in the noblest
manner, by the false shame of confessing an
error. At length, however, upon her mamma
coming towards her with an avowed intention
8 THE ADVENTURES OF
of inflicting some further punishment, she
mumbled out, in a low voice, which was very
difficult to be understood, " That she was
sorry she had struck her sister/' Martha,
who was extremely generous, and uncommonly
good-natured, very affectionately kissed her
sister, and told her, she was much concerned
at the mischief she had occasioned ; though
she could not have helped it, as she fell
down before she was aware of it, and did
not see that her tea-things were near her.
Charlotte grew reconciled by degrees ; but it
was a long time before she regained her usual
cheerfulness. After some time, however, the
sisters seated themselves in a window by the
table, and soliciting their mamma for a bit of
silk to make a Pincushion. Mrs. Airy gave
them several pieces to choose which they liked
best; and after they had taken them up a
dozen times, or perhaps as many more, had
they been reckoned, Martha made choice of a
square piece of pink satin, which she neatly
sewed and stuffed with bran, and which,
gentle reader, when it was finished, was the
A PINCUSHION. 9
identical Pincushion whose adventures form
the subject of this little volume. Assuming,
therefore, the title of an Historian, or Bio-
grapher, which is generally understood to
mean a person, who is writing an account of
his own, or another's actions, I shall take the
liberty to speak for myself, and tell you what
I saw and heard in the character of a Pin-
cushion. Perhaps you never thought that
such things as are inanimate could be sensible
of any thing which happens, as they can nei-
ther hear, see, nor understand ; and as I would
not willingly mislead your judgment, I would
previous to your reading this work, inform
you, that it is to be understood as an imaginary
tale ; in the same manner as when you are
at play, ygu sometimes call yourselves gen-
tlemen and ladies, though you know you are
only -little boys and girls. So, when you read
of birds and beasts speaking and thinking, you
know it is not so in reality, any more than your
amusements, which you frequently call making
believe. To use your own style, and adopt
your own manner of speaking, therefore, you
4
10 THE ADVENTURES OF
must imagine, that a Pincushion is now making
believe to address jptf, and to recite a number
of little events, some of which really have
happened, and others might do so with great
probability : and if any of the characters here
represented should appeal: to be disagreeable,
the author hopes you will endeavour to avoid
their failings, and to practise those virtues or
accomplishments, which render the contrary
examples more worthy of imitation. And
now, if you please, we will return to the ac-
count of what further befel me in the family
of Mrs. Airy.
After the young ladies had amused them-
selves a great while with the pieces of silk I
have so often had occasion to mention, and
Miss Martha had completed me to her entire
satisfaction; she took all the pins out of an
old green one, which was originally in the
shape of a heart, but had by losing a great
part of its inside, through various little holes,
quite lost its form : and which, that she
might find those pins which had gone through
the silk, she cut open an old newspaper,
A PINCUSHION. II
and then stuck all she could find ut/on my
sides in the shape of letters, which she after-
wards changed to flowers, and a third time
altered to stars and circles; which afforded
her full amusement till bed-time. Miss Char-
lotte, though her mamma had given her as
much silk as her sister, had only cut it into
waste ; while Martha, after she had furnished
me, had saved the rest towards making a
housewife for her doll. I could not help
reflecting when I saw all Charlotte's little
shreds and slips littering the room, what a
•imple method many little girls are apt to get
into, of wasting every thing which their friends
are so kind as to give them, and which pro-
perly employed, might make them many
useful ornaments for their dolls, and sometimes
pretty trifles for themselves. Charlotte Airy,
as such children usually are, was desirous of
having every thing she saw ; so that her
drawers were always filled with bits of ribbon,
pieces of silk, cuttings of gauze, catgut, and
muslin : aud if she wanted to find her gloves,
tippet, tuckers, or any part of her dress, she
12 THE ADVENTURES OF
was obliged to search for them in twenty
different places, and frequently to go with-
out what she was looking for. Martha, on
the contrary, by taking care of what might
be of use, and laying it by in a proper
place, always knew where to find what she
had occasion for directly. So that it fre-
quently happened that she went out with her
mamma, when her sister was forced to stay
at home ; because she had lost something
which had delayed her so long to look for,
that she could not get ready in time. This
very circumstance happened the day after
I became acquainted with her, to her no
small mortification. Mrs. Airy was going
to see the exhibition of pictures at the Royal
Academy, and told her daughters if they
behaved well they should accompany her; as
Mrs. Gardner and her niece Miss Lounge
would call at one o'clock. After breakfast,
Charlotte, who had found the mould of
an old button in one of her papa's waist-
coat pockets which she had been rummag-
ing, had cut to pieces an axle-tree of a
A PINCUSHION. 13
little cart, which belonged to her brother, to
make a spindle, in order to convert it into a
tee-totum ; with which she was so much
entertained that she was very unwilling to
leave it to go to work, though her mamma
repeatedly told her she would not be ready
against Mr. Gardner's coach came. " Yes I
shall, madam !" said she, and played on.
" Do pray go to work, Charlotte !" " Pre-
sently, madam." But still she thought she
would give it another twirl. " You, shall
not go if you have not finished your morning
business !" " In a minute I will !" And so
she simply idled away her time, without
heeding her mamma's admonition, till near
an hour beyond her usual time of beginning.-
This put her into such a hurry to finish^
when she found it was so late, that she stitchea
some wristbands she was about, and which
were intended for her grand-papa, so very
badly, they were obliged to be undone ;
which made her so cross, that in pulling
out the work, she broke the threads of the
cloth, and entirely spoiled it. Charlotte was
14 THE ADVENTURES OP
a very fair complexioned pretty girl ; but you
cannot imagine how ugly her ill-humour made
her appear; nor how much more agreeable
her sister looked, who was much browner,
was pitted with the small-pox, and a much
plainer child. I surveyed them both as I
lay on the table, where my mistress had placed
me to stick her pins as she took out of the
shirt collar which she was putting on ; Martha
looked so placid and cheerful, and seemed to
speak so kindly when she asked a question,
that it made her really charming ; while Char-
lotte, who had a very pretty mouth, and very
regular features, stuck out her lips in a man-
ner so unbecoming, and tossed about her head
with such very illiberal jerks that she lost all
natural advantages in her wilful ill-humour.
A person happening to call on Mrs. Airyr
to speak about some particular business, she
left the children to attend him; and Martha,
who pitied her sister's distress, and saw the
impossibility of her finishing the task she was
ordered to do, very kindly offered to assist her,
without which she never could have accom-
A PFNCUSH10N. 15
plished it. But their mamma, at her return,
immediately suspected the case to be as I have
told you, and inquired what help Charlotte
had received in her absence? They were
both girls of too much honour to deny the
truth, and in consequence of her frankly
owning her sister's kindness, Mrs. Airy per-
mitted her to retire, in order to prepare for
the intended expedition ; but, alas ! poor
Charlotte, who indeed was not always so good
as she ought to have been, was not to go that
morning, although her mamma had consented
to it, Betty, who came to put on her frock,
was not very fond of her, for she was sometimes
apt, when her mamma was not in the way,
to speak very haughtily, and in a manner
quite becoming a young lady. Unfortunately
she forget herself on the present occasion, and
very rudely said, " You must come and
dress me, and you must make haste, or I shall
not be ready." " Must I ?" replied Betty,
" That is if I please, Miss Charlotte, though
you forgot to put that in ; and unless you
speak in a prettier way, I will not help you at
16 THB ADVENTURES OF
all." " Then you may let it alone, foi
I will not ask you any otherwise," and awaj
she went, banging the door after her, to caL
her sister, who was ready and waiting for
the coach in her mamma's room. Martha
ran directly, and began to pin her frock as
she desired. But a new distress arose; for
as she was too careless ever to retain any of my
fellow-servants (commonly called a Pincushion)
in her service, so she had not one pin to pro-
ceed with after three, which had stuck at
one end of me, had been employed. Neither
of them chose to apply to Betty, because
they were sure, from Charlotte's ill-behaviour
to be denied : and she would not permit
her sister to ask her mamma, for fear of ang^
inquiry which might not turn out to herH
credit. So, in short, they both traversed the
room backwards and forwards, and were
quite overjoyed when they found two (one ot
which proved to be crooked) between the
joining of the floor. Then they each return
ed and took me up repeatedly, and examined
me over and over, though they were con-
A PINCUSHION. 17
vinced I had been empty long ago. At last
a loud rap at the door announced Mrs.
Gardner's arrival. The ladies were called,
and Martha obeyed, though with reluctance
to leave her sister : and Charlotte, with con-
scious shame and remorse for her past conduct,
and heart -heaving sobs of dissappointment,
saw them drive away without her. I was left
upon the table in the hurry of my mistress's
departure. Charlotte took me up, and earnest-
ly wished she had a Pincushion of her own ;
and so I should think would any one, who
had experienced the want of such an useful
companion ; though, unless well furnished
with -pins, it is in itself but of little assistance,
as she had but too unfortunately found. The
slatternly appearance, and real inconvenience,
which many ladies suffer from neglecting to
provide themselves with, and retaining a few
such necessary implements of female oeconomy
about them is really inconceivable by any
person accustomed to a proper degree of at-
tention. Trifles are frequently regarded by
the giddy and thoughtless as of no moment,
c3 -
18 THE ADVENTURES Ot
when essentials are taken care of: but it is
the repetition of trifles which constitutes the
chief business of our existence. In other
words, people form their opinion of a young
lady from her personal appearance; and if,
because she is at work, and in want of pins,
and destitute of a Pincushion, she has quite
undressed herself, and her clothes are dropping
off, she will be thought a negligent slattern ;
which I suppose, is what no one would choose
to be esteemed : so, when children accustom
themselves to loll their elbows, stoop their
heads, stand upon one foot, bite their nails, or
any other ungraceful actions, it makes them
disagreeable, and the object of dislike to all
their friends, and every one who is acquainted
with them. And it is very foolish to imagine,
that because they are not in company with
strangers it does not signify ; for ill habits,
when once they are acquired, are very difficult
to leave off; and by being used to do an un-
polite action frequently, they will do it without
recollecting the impropriety ; when, if they
thought, perhaps, they would on no account
tiave been guilty ot it.
A PINCUSHION 19
Miss Lounge, the young lady who accom -
panied Mrs. Airy to the exhibition was a stri-
king example of what I mention above. She
was about sixteen, and very tall of her age ; so
that she appeared quite womanly in person,
though her manners were to the highest degree
remarkable and unpleasing ; she had a strange
way of tossing her legs round at every step,
as if she was making circles, and her arms
were crossed over each other in so awkward a
manner, and unfashionably low, that it made
her still more ungraceful in her appearance :
besides this, she had acquired a drawling tone
in conversation, which made her completely
an object of disgust ; as it was entirely the
consequence of her own neglect, and therefore
was by no means deserving of that pity which
is due to every natural defect or accidental
deformity. She returned with her aunt to
dinner.
Miss Charlotte was quite ashamed of enter-
ing the drawing room, though she was now
dressed, and had promised Mrs. Betty she
would behave with more civility for the future.
20 THE ADVENTURES OF
But the fear of mamma's exposing her folly
to Mrs. Gardner, had made her dislike to
show herself in company ; and the conscious-
ness of having deserved reproof, made her
justly apprehensive of receiving it. She did
not venture down stairs, therefore, till dinner
was on the table; and then, with her neck
and face as red as blushes could make them,
she paid her compliments to the company,
without daring to look at her mamma. So
cowardly and uncomfortable does the thought
of a wrong action make those who have com-
mitted it, even when they are not certain it
will be publicly known. And this reminds
me of a few stanzas I found in Miss Martha's
work-bag one day, when she put me into it
with the scissars, (by mistake, I suppose) as
my proper place was certainly in her pocket.
But as they are so very a-propos to my
present subject, I will present my readers with
them : and as the author is quite unknown, if
they should not be thought deserving of a
favourable reception they will not at least,
subject the writer to any mortification.
A PINCUSHION. 21
'TIS innocence only true courage can give,
Or secure from the fear of disdain ;
To be conscious of guilt all affiance destroys,
And the hope of enjoyment is vain.
If to error betrayed, then delay no to own
The crime which has robb'd you of peace ;
As penitence only can wash out the stain,
Or cause your vexation to cease.
When the ermine of conscience is spotted by
guilt,
Most severe are the pangs of the mind ;
'Tis a woe which no sympathy e'er can relieve,
Nay, is hurt by a treatment too kind.
To feel undeserving of friendly esteem,
Is the worst of all evils below :
We may suffer from pain, but the sting of re-
morse
Is the heaviest gnef we can know.
Then caretul your innocence ever maintain,
Be assured it is worthy your care ;
Since no other distress so deprives us of hope,
Or so soon sinks the soul in despair.
There was another short piece by the same
hand, which my mistress had transcribed, to
give her sister on occasion of a little quarrel
22 THE ADVENTURES OF
which had happened between them : Miss
Martha having mentioned to her the impro-
priety of speaking rudely to servants, and
behaving in a different manner when her
mamma was absent, to what she could dare
to do in her presence ; which reproof Char
lotte highly resented, and was very angry
that her sister shou Id find fault with her : as
the following verses were applicable to the
circumstance, she adopted them as her own on
the occasion.
Nay, Charlotte, why so much displeased to be
told,
That your friends have discernment to see ?
If you could descend to deserve my reproach
The error lies sure not in me.
I mentioned the fault, that in future your care
Might secure from unguarded surprise ;
I thought you had sense to rely on my love ;
To resent it I deemed you too wise.
The freedom of friendship should never displease,
Tho' harsh its reproofs may appear;
Since often in public who flatter us most,
Are the first at our weakness to sneer.
4 PINCUSHION. 23
Then should you not g.adly with candour receive
The advice >\hich affection bestows ;
For sincerity rarely we meet with in life,
Few will aid us, but numbers oppose.
As to you, I am bound by the dearest of ties,
My sister, as well as my friend ;
No undue command did I mean to usurp,
Nor ever design to offend.
Then let us united in harmony live,
For sisters should ne'er disagree ;
And when I am wrong, equal freedom exert,
To complain of these errors to me.
Mrs. Airy was so generous as not to ex-
pose her daughter's folly before Mrs. Gard-
ner ; and as she had met with a severe punish-
ment in consequence of her fault, and had
promised amendment for the future, after a
gentle reprimand, when she came down the
next morning, nothing further passed on the
subject.
Charlotte was so conscious of her late mis-
behaviour, that she had scarce courage to en-
quire what entertainment they had received
from a sight of pictures at the exhibition;
9A THE ADVENTURES OF
and Martha, who tfas extremely delicate and
attentive, very cautiously avoided the subject,
from fear of appearing to insult her sister, or
to remind her mamma of the reason which
had occasioned her absence from the party
Mrs. Airy inquiring whether Martha had not
particularly taken notice of a large picture,
which represented the death of Earl Good-
win; she replied that Mrs. Gardner had
pointed it out to her observation; but that
she had not remarked any particulars, except
the figure of a king, and a large company at
dinner. I will tell you the story then, my
dear, to which this picture refers, said Mrs,
Airy.
In the reign of Edward the Confessor, in
the year 1042, Earl Goodwin, who had been
accessary to the murder of Prince Alfred,
was at dinner with the King at Windsor; and
taking a piece of bread, called God to witness
his innocence, and wished, if he uttered any
but the truth, that the" next mouthful he ate
might choak him : which accordingly hap-
A PINCUSHION. 26
pened, and the bread stuck in his throat, and
he died immediately at the table. Do not
you think, my dear, added Mrs. Airy, it was
a just punishment for his untruth, and an
awful judgment for calling God to witness a
falsehood ? Indeed, Madam, I think it was
quite dreadful ; but are you sure that this ac-
count is true ? for though it is certainly very
wicked to teJl a lie on any occasion, yet, as
sometimes many people are thus guilty, I
wonder that such events do not more fre-
quently happen ! You know that Miss Riby
said she had not been writing last week, al-
though you saw that her fingers were inked :
and Charlotte had seen her doing it; why
then did not the same accident happen to
her? 6< Because, my love, the punishment of
such crimes does not always immediately fol-
low the commission of them ; but you may
be sure that the remorse of conscience, and
the secret uneasiness of mind which the guil-
ty suffer, is a very great unhappiness ; and
the apprehension and the fear of a future ac-
count after death, besides the idea of present
D
26 THE ADVENTURES OF
detection, is such a degree of misery as no
other punishment can equal. As to your
question, whether I believe this account to be
true ? I certainly do ! It was an extraordi-
nary event which was recorded at the time it
happened, and which every history has men-
tioned since, and faithfully transmitted to us.
This is the best authority we can have for any
fact which happened before our own time,
and is therefore entitled to our belief. But
why such examples are so rare, is not to be
wondered at ; because you know that wicked
people will be punished hereafter ; and though
such instances sometimes happen, to teach
others to be good, and to make them afraid
of doing what might make them liable to
such terrible vengeance, yet, in general, a
crime of this kind does not meet with imme-
diate chastisement; because, after death, as
I have before told you, those who have been
wicked, will suffer such misery as their sins
deserved. Besides which, the liar is at pre-
sent detested by every one, and loses all the
advantage of confidence, and the pleasure of
A PINCUSHION £7
being believed : even when he does speak
truth, he is liable to be suspected, and In*
word is doubted on all occasions." The con-
versation was here interrupted by the arrival
of two young ladies and their mamma, who
came to pay a morning visit to Mrs. Airy.
v But as they did not say any thing worth the
attention of my readers, I shall not trouble
myself to repeat more of what passed than
may be imagined, from the comments of my
mistress and her sister, with which I shall
present them.
Martha, before the room door was well
shut after them, began to observe that the
eldest Miss Chantillon was very ugly, and
very stupid ; and the youngest a good pretty
girl, and talked a great deal indeed. I wish,
added she, I could speak as fast as she does.
To talk so fast, my love, said her mamma,
is by no means any accomplishment ; and I
am far from your opinion, in so highly ad-
miring the merits of Miss Lucy. She chat-
ters so fast, as frequently not to be under-
stood ; and has a very silly trick of beginning
28 THE ADVENTURES OF
every sentence with a laugh, than which noth-
ing can be more ill-bred. The person who is
speaking, should never laugh, if she can help
it, at her own wit, if she design to excite
mirth, or to meet with approbation from
others. But without any such intention,
Lucy assumes an affected giggle whenever
she attempts to speak. She has likewise a
very unbecoming pertness in her manner,
and, by frequent interruptions, when her el-
ders are otherwise engaged, renders herself
extremely disagreeable. I would have you,
my good girls, possess that desirable degree
of proper courage, as never to feel ashamed
of speaking when it is necessary ; but I think
it is an unpleasing sight to perceive a young
woman, or child I should say, for Lucy is
young enough for that epithet, affecting to
understand every thing, and giving her opi-
nion unasked, upon subjects which frequently
expose her ignorance and presumption. This
is aiming at a character to which she has
no pretensions; and by wishing to rise into
a woman, before she has reached the age
A. PINCUSHION 29
of understanding, she is despised for her va-
nity, and loses that esteem she might have
attained by a proper degree of humility, and
her better knowledge of her station. This
observation, my dear Martha, I would par-
ticularly address to you ; as you are gene-
rally thought uncommonly tall, and are
usually imagined to be much older than you
are. This I know you fancy to be a com-
pliment which always appears to give you
pleasure ; but remember, that, if you assume
airs of womanhood, and affect to be thought
further advanced in age, you will have the
less allowance made for any errors you may
commit, and consequently meet with contempt
where you might otherwise have escaped cen-
sure. Youth, and inexperience, are justly
allowed to excuse any slight inadvertence in
manners, or want of grace in appearance;
but if you choose to be thought of more con-
sequence, you must likewise expect, that the
notice you may attract will not always be fa-
vourable to your vanity. I assure you, I
think Miss Jenny Chantillon is much more
3P TUB ADVENTURES O*
agreeable than her sister, as she has courage
sufficient to reply to any question, and to
speak distinctly when she is particularly ad-
dressed, without enquiring, in Lucy's man-
ner, into the reason of every word which is
uttered, and deciding every argument accord-
ing to her own fancy; and, I dare say, if
you will be careful to observe, you will find
that Jenny always meets with attention from
the company, while Lucy is frequently in-
sulted, by being enjoined to silence, and by
her hearers turning from her with disdain.
In short, my dear, it requires a great deal of
thought and propriety, to behave in an agree-
able manner at your age. It is best not to
be anxious to be taken notice of, since that
eagerness always defeats its aim. Girls have
not had the advantage of experience to teach
them wisdom; and when once they are en-
gaged in conversation, and find themselves
attended to, their volatile spirits hurry them
on, with the desire of obtaining applause for
their wit, to say things which are sometimes
neither delicate nor prudent; and which they
A PINCUSHION. 31
may, when they have time to reflect, long
have reason to repent having imprudently ut-
tered. Any restraint at such a time, is, I
know, always esteemed an ill-natured inter-
ruption, and is apt to damp their harmony,
and lower their spirits. I would therefore
warn you of the danger before-hand, that
your own prudence may be a check to that
unlimited indulgence, which at such a period
is liable to excess: and, I dare say, that your
good sense will teach you, that my admoni-
tions are always intended for your advantage.
To impress this deeper upon your mind, I
will repeat to you a few lines which were
written to me, when I was young, by my
aunt, and which, as they frequently occurred
to my memory, I found to be singularly
useful.
RECOLLECT, my sweet girl, 'ere you mix with
the world,
There is need for some caution to guide ;
Then wisely remember to govern your tongue,
As silence much folly may hide.
32 THE ADVENTURES OF
Most useful, f think, you this maxim will find,
And never its precepts neglect;
That who giddy and thoughtless will chatter away,
Shall ne'er gain applause or respect.
Like the Parrot,awhile they may please and an1 use;
But no real esteem will acquire ;
And I trust that your wish when in converse 3011
join,
Is a nobler regard to inspire.
Remember that memory long may record
The folly you. uttered in jest ;
And a secret unmark'd. when escaped from your
lips.
May long rob your bosom of rest.
Then conscious of error 'tis vain to repent,
As the mischief admits no relief;
And surely 'tis simple so thoughtless to lay
The dismal foundation of grief.
The ladies now all retired to dinner: but I
am ignorant of what passed there, as I was
Jeft upon a piece of embroidery, which my
misstress was covering with some white paper
to keep it clean : and she did not fetch me till
pfter tea; when she carried me in her hand
A PINCUSHION. 33
down stairs with her work, to show some
ladies who were assembled in the drawing-
-oom. I then accompained her into what was
usually called the green parlour, as the fur-
niture was all of that colour ; whither she
went to play with her young visitors, whose
names were Eliza Meekley and Julia Norris.
They amused themselves with playing on
the harpsichord, while Miss Martha person-
ated the music-master, and Charlotte chose
to teach them dancing. Some part of the
evening they played at going to the exhibition ;
and just as they determined to visit the pic-
tures, the footman came to acquaint the young
ladies, that their coach was ready. Miss
Meekley's bib was unpinned, and Martha
gave me into her hand in a hurry while she
was looking for her cloak. So without recol-
lecting that I was another's property, Eliza
put me into her pocket, made a very elegant
curtsey, and stepped into the carriage. I felt
really very sorry to part with a family with
which I had been some time connected, and
to one of whom I owed my being as a Pin-
34 THE ADVENTURES OF
cushion. But my new mistress was so veiy
engaging, that I was in hopes she would take
care of me, and not leave me about to the
mercy of a little kitten, who jumped into her
lap the moment she got home; and who
afterwards frisked away with a little tassel
which dropped off from one corner of a work-
bag which lay on the table. But before I
proceed with my history, it will be necessary
to introduce my readers to Miss Meekley and
her companions, and to make them better
acquainted with this new family, who are all
of them deserving their notice.
Mrs. Stanley, to whom the house belonged ,
was the widow of a clergyman, who had at
his death left her in rather indigent circum-
stances ; and she had been advised (to support
herself and two younger sisters who lived with
her) to take a small number of young ladies
to board. Her number was confined to six ;
two of whom were those I have before men-
tioned. The others were three sisters, whose
names were Saxby, and a Miss Una, who for
her sweetness of temper, and excellence in
A PINCUSHION. 35
every accomplishment, was esteemed superior
to all the rest of her companions. Harriet
Una was cousin to Miss Meekley, and they
usually slept together. She was just turned
of thirteen, was tall and large ; had light
brown hair, blue eyes, and a fine conplexion :
but her good-nature and willingness to oblige
every one, made her the general favourite,
and recommended her to universal esteem.
When the young ladies retired to bed»
Eliza found me in her pocket, and told Har-
riet she was afraid Miss Airy would want
her Pincushion; and she was the more con-
cerned, as the family were to go into the
country very early the next morning, and
she should have no opportunity to return it.
However, continued she, I will make a new
one to present to Miss Airy when I see her ;
and I will keep this, as I have not one a;
present, my kitten having pulled mine to
pieces this morning : but I will take care this
shall not come to the same mischance. I
was glad to hear that was her intention, as I
should by no means have liked the thought
36 THE ADVENTURES OF
of sharing the fate of my predecessor. A
this time Mrs. Stanley entered the room to
wish them a good night, and to see whethei
they were properly taken care of. I am very
unhappy to-night, said Eliza, as soon as she
was gone; and I feel ashamed of receiving
Mrs. Stanley's kisses, because I behaved in a
manner I am sure she would not approve.
What have you done, my dear cousin, replied
Harriet, to make you so uneasy ? I will tell
you, answered Miss Meekley, though I do not
like to confess my weakness. Just before
dinner, Miss Charlotte Airy asked me to eat
some preserved plums, which she said had
been made a present of to her mamma, and
which came from Portugal. They were very
sweet and luscious ; and as I am not allowed
to have any thing of that kind, I refused her
offer. But when we had dined, she pressed
me again, and laughed at me very much for
being so foolish, as to imagine any thing so
innocent could hurt me ; but supposed, as I
went to school, my mistress, for so she sneer-
ingly called Mrs. Stanley, would whip me if I
A PINCUSHION. 3?
did. At last, overcome with her persecutions,
and vexed to be treated so much like a baby, and
as if I was afraid of punishment, I took the
plum, and have not been easy since. And now,
my dear Harriet, what shall I do ? Suppose Mrs.
Stanley should ask me whether I have eaten any
thing lately which I ought not: and if she doe*
not put that question, I feel so undeserving
of her caresses, that she will see by my looks
I have behaved improperly. I am very sorry,
replied Miss Una ; but as you are so sonsible
it was wrong, I may spare my recriminations.
However, I think the noblest reparation you
can now make, would be honestly to inform
Mrs. Stanley of the crime, and the sincerity
of your regret for having been guilty of it :
should it be discovered by any other means,
you will forfeit her esteem, and lose that con-
fidence with which you are at present favoured ;
by such an unsolicited confession, you will
restore satisfaction to your own conscience,
and be certain of her approbation.
Eliza was convinced of the propriety and
justice of her friend's advice, and promised to
38 THE ADVENTURES OF
comply with it the next morning. But
her excessive timidity prevented her making
use of several opportunities which presented,
though the subject occupied all her attention,
and she could scarce think of any thing else.
She again applied, therefore, to Harriet, and
told her it was impossible for her to summon up
courage to do as she had desired ; and begged
she would, from her, acquaint Mrs. Stanley
with what had happened. Miss Una, in the
mildest terms, complied with her request ; at
Jie same time very generously commended
her honour on every occasion, and urging hei
present uneasiness to engage Mrs. Stanley s
compassion. Miss Meekly, when she was
acquainted with her cousin's having revealed
this secret, which had oppressed her mind,
was very unwilling to attend her to the lady
above-mentioned Mrs. Stanley received her
with the greatest affection and tenderness;
and after expressing in the warmest terms, her
approbation of such a generous confession,
added, u You need never, my dear girl, be
afraid either of anger or punishment, when
A PINCUSHION. 39
with such a degree of frankness you acknow-
ledge any fault you have committed. Be
assured your friends will be always willing to
pardon those errors which you promise to
amend : but let the present instance warn you,
my Eliza, never to be led into actions which
you know are improper, because the company
you are with may ridicule your refusal. Miss
Charlotte Airy is, in my opinion, a very
naughty girl, to endeavour to persuade you to
do any thing which you have been forbidden.
And I hope, from the remorse you have suffer-
ed, you will reflect on the folly of complying
with any proposals which your conscience
suggests to you is wrong. Do not be afraid
of being laughed at for being good. Every
person of real sense will esteem you for your
resolution : and because a silly girl may sneer
at your apprehension of punishment, it will be
much more ridiculous, and wicked at the same
time, to be guilty of what you are conscious is a
crime, for which you will deserve, and perhaps
receive, correction. Besides one bad action
is but too often the cause of the commission
40 THE ADVENTURES OF
of others ; and when once we have deviated
from what is right in a small instance, it is
frequently the occasion of accumulated guilt.
I will tell you an instance of this kind that
may illustrate my meaning, and which, as I
was acquainted with the person who is the
subject of it, will, perhaps, make a deeper
impression on your mind.
A young lady, whose real name I shall (for
the sake of charity) conceal under that of
Lloyd, and who was, my dear Eliza, nearly
of the same age with yourself, was educated
with the utmost attention ; and as she was an
only child, was the darling of her parents,
and the centre of all their future expectations.
Betsy, which was the usual appellation, went
one day to visit a companion, with whom she
was extremely intimate ; but who, unfortu-
nately for her, was not possessed of that strict
honour which should be the basis and foun-
Jution of friendship. When they had been
for some time at play in the garden, she pro-
posed to go back to a little shop in the neigh-
bourhood to make a purchase of some ginger-
bread; and though Miss Lloyd for a time
A PINCUSHION. 41
objected to the proposal without leave, against
her mamma's repeated command; yet, her
companion, laughing at her squeamishness (as
she wickedly called an adherence to her duty)
prevailed over her better resolutions, and she
accompanied her to the place I mentioned.
As it was the only shop of the kind which
the village afforded, the boys of an adjacent
school very frequently went there for the
same purpose as the two young ladies who
now entered ; and two of the most unlucky
of their number happened at that time to be
bargaining for some balls. They staid very
soberly till Miss Lloyd had taken out her
purse to pay for the cakes she had purchased ;
but as the lock of her pocket-book was en.
tangled in it, it came out of her pocket at the
same time, when one of the boys snatched it
from her hand, and rudely declared he would
see its contents, and know all the girl's se-
crets This vexer1 her extremely, and she
thoughtlessly pursued him, as he ran away
with the prize, till she was a good way from
nome. He was joined by several of his
E3
8 THE ADVENTURES OF
school- fellows, \vho took part with him, ana
behaved in so wild a manner as to terrify her
greatly. At length, however, she got away
from them, and ran back with all the speed
in her power : but as it was later than her
usual time of returning, her parents were
uneasy, and questioned her with great ten-
derness and anxiety, as to the reason of her
stay. She told them, she had been out with
Miss Hannah (the companion she Iiad really
visited) and her maid, and that a horse had
oeen near running over her, which had
frightened her so much, as to prevent her re-f
turn
This story was believed by Mr. and Mrs,
Lloyd for some time, and Betsy, who had at
first been very unhappy at the thoughts of
such a wicked deceit, at length grew recon-
ciled as she found herself undetected. She
therefore ventured upon a second transgres-?
sion, from the encouragement which she fool-
ishly imagined the secrecy of her first fault
had given her ; and with her intimate Miss
Hannah, touk another walk, without any
A PINCUSHION. 43
person to have the care of them. But dur-
ing their absence from home, an unexpected
accident punished the imprudent Miss Lloyd
for her disobedience and untruth, in a man-
ner which will give her cause for repentance
to the latest period of her life ; for as she was
crossing a road in her return, a horse, which
had been tied to the rails of a house at a lit-
tle distance, broke the bridle which confined
him, and galloped away full speed, unre-
strained by any opposition, till in his passage
the unfortunate Miss Lloyd, who did not
perceive his approach, was thrown down, and
broke her leg in such a terrible manner, as to
occasion her being a cripple ever after. She
has since confessed, the consciousness of her
falsehood was such a conviction to her mind
of the wickedness of her conduct (when she
was made sensible that the accident was the
consequence of her disobedience to her pa-
rents) that it was more difficult to support
than any bodily uneasiness she had suffered,
and the reflection that they would never be
able to confide in her for the future, was the
44 THE ADVENTURES OF
occasion of so much self-reproach, as to de-
prive her of every enjoyment. This instance
may serve to convince you, that a slight error
s very frequently, without any previous in-
tention, and when least expected, the occa-
sion of such crimes, as in the cooler moments
of thought (that is, when you have time to
reflect on the wickedness of the action) you
would never be capable of committing ; and
as none can be sure they would be able to
resist temptation, it is best never to do any
thing which you know to be wrong, though
it may appear to be in the smallest instance,
since the desire of concealing a trifling fault,
may lead you to hide it by a falsehood, which
is one of the greatest you can be guilty of.
Miss Meekly was convinced of the truth
and propriety of this argument, and promised
to be more attentive in her future conduct.
She then joined her companions with that
cheerful good humour, which distinguished
her character, and attended them into the
great parlour, where they usually spent the
morning. When they had concluded their
A PINCUSHION. 45
work, writing, &c. Mrs. Stanley always made
them read to her, and encouraged them to
ask any question which occurred to them ; to
make their own observations upon those pas-
sages in history which struck their imagina-
tions ; or to propose to her any objection
which arose in their minds. She desired
them to ask the meaning and origin of those
customs they did not comprehend, and by so
doing had frequent opportunities of impro-
ving their understandings. Instances of this
kind very frequently occurred, and supplied
them with subjects of conversation. Miss
Una was working a map of England, and in-
quired one day how long the island had been
divided into shires and counties. Mrs.
Stanley applied to the young ladies to know
if any of them could resolve the question, but
as they were all silent, " you should endea-
vour, my dears," said she, " to remember
what you [read, or it will be of very little
advantage. I believe, Harriet, you read an
account of this division, a few months ago,
when you were going through the reigns of
46 A. PINCUSHION.
the Saxon Monarchs. Do not you remember
that the great King Alfred, in the year 886,
repaired the city of London, which had been
burnt by the Danes in 839, and that he after-
wards divided the kingdom into shires, hun-
dreds, and tithings ?" " J did not recollect
it," said Miss Una. " But pray," added
Miss Saxby, " did the same king set up all
the crosses ? for I remember something about
their being erected, though I have forgotten
when it happened." " Your memory is very
short, I am afraid," replies Mrs. Stanley;
u but if you were to write down such parti-
culars, you would find it of great assistance ;
as it appears very illiterate to be unacquaint-
ed with those facts which have occurred in the
history of your native country." All the
crosses you mention, were erected by King
Edward the First, in every place where the
funeral procession of his Queen stopped, from
Lincolnshire (where she died) to Westmin-
ster. There v/ere in all ten, I think. One at
Lincoln, Granthara, Stamford, Geddington,
Northampton, Stoney Stratford, Dunstable,
A FIX CUSHION. 47
St. Albarfs, Waltham, and Westminster,
called Charing Cross. You should always
endeavour to observe what you read; but
those things which relate to the island in
which you live, have a particular claim to
your remembrance. For this purpose I think
your preseut work is singularly useful, as it
will so strongly impress the geography of your
country upon your mind, that I hope, my
dear Harriet, you will never forget it." As
nothing material happened to my mistress,
and very little variation occurred in her
manner of living, I shall pass over the usual
events of every day, which my readers can
easily imagine ; such as her taking me out of
her pocket during the time of dressing and
restoring me to that place of confinement
when she had concluded, and proceed to re-
late an accident in which I was very nearly
concerned.
The kitten I have before mentioned, who
was a great favourite with Miss Meekly, was
never allowed to enter into her bed-chamber ;
but one day, the weather being extremely
48 THE ADVENTURES OF
warm, and the door Jeft open, it walked in,
and laid itself down at a little distance from
the window, in a spot where the sun shone ;
the shutters being half closed to exclude
the heat. Eliza was employed in putting
a pair of ruffles into her jacket, and I lay
in her lap securely, as I imagined, till a car-
riage stopping at the gate, she precipitately
jumped up to look out at the visitors, and in
her haste let me fall upon the floor. Her
motion was so sudden and unexpected that I
could not save myself, or check the velocity
with which Iwas impelled. So that I unfor-
tunately rolled on, till I touched the edge
of a book-case, and discovered myself to
Mrs. Puss, who hooked me with her claws,
and twisted me round several times with
as much dexterity as if I had been spinning ;
or, to use a more proper simile, as if I had
represented a mouse. I offered her great
entertainment for some time, till at last 1
found myself a second time under one of the
feet of the book-case, and so fast wedged in,
that it was beyond the art of even a kitten's
A PINCUSHION. 49
invention to extricate me from my situation.
Mrs. Stanley coming up stairs, Miss Meekly
turned out my antagonist, and with unavailing
care searched for me in every drawer, on
every table, and upon the bed.
Long have I remained in this dull state of
obscurity and confinement, unable to make
known my distress, as I want the power of
articulation ; at least my language can be only
understood to things inanimate as myself.
A pen, however, which fell down near me,
engaged to present these memoirs to the
world, if ever it should be employed by the
hand of kindness, to rescue my name from
oblivion. Should the eye of youth read
this account with any pleasure, it is hoped the
candour of generosity will overlook its imper-
fections : and should fate, in some fortunate
moment of futurity, again restore me to the
possession of Miss Meekly, or any of her
companions, my gratitude will engage me to
tnanK the public for its indulgence, and to
continue the account of my adventures
F
50 THE ADVENTURES OF
If I am not so happy as to meet with ap-
probation, I shall at least have the consola-
tion to reflect that these pages have suggest-
ed no wrong ideas to the youthful mind;
have given no encouragement to vanity, nor
exhibited any improper example with com-
mendation ; which is what better authors and
works of higher genius cannot always be hap-
py enough to boast. Such as it is, I submit
this account of myself to the world, and only
desire them to remember, in the words of the
admired Gay, that,
" From objects most minute and mean,
" A virtuous mind may morals glean.
I had lain so long in my dismal confine-
ment, that I began to despair of ever pre-
senting the world with any second part of my
adventures. And yet, thought I, it is very
hard that a Pincushion so new, so clean, and
so beautiful, that might have a thousand op-
portunities of seeing the different manners of
mankind, should be thus secluded from com-
pany, and condemned, by the playful freaks
A PINCUSHION. 51
Df an insignificant kitten, thus to pass away
its best days in obscurity. And here let me
take this opportunity to suggest a useful hint
to my young readers, which, as my inactive
situation allowed me sufficient time for reflec-
tion, I had frequently reason to feel the force
of; namely, That although I fretted and
fumed every day at my unfortunate condi-
tion, I never found it was at all improved by
it, or that my ill- humour in the least degree
made me happier, or assisted my escape.
When I determined to submit quietly, I
was as happy as any Pincushion in such a
state of retirement could be. But when in a
cross fit I tried to roll myself from under the
book-case, I found the attempt was impossible
to accomplish, and I hurt my sides against
the foot of it. The space was so small be-
tween the bottom of my prison and the floor,
that I had no hopes uf escape, as it was im-
possible for any broom to find its way under ;
or otherwise the cleanliness of Mrs. Stanley's
maid would certainly have effected my deli-
verance. But, alas ! of this I had no pros-
F2
52 THE ADVENT URES'OF
pect ; and though my endeavours were fruit-
less, it taught me such a lesson of content-
ment, as I wish every little reader of my me-
moirs may remember, and copy in their own
conduct. For if they are tired of working
reading, music, drawing, or any other em-
ployment at home ; or, what is frequently the
case, are impatient of the confinement of be-
ing at school ; I would have them take my
advice, and try to amuse themselves when
they have opportunity, and wait with pati-
ence till they are of a proper age, either to
leave the place they dislike, or have overcome
the difficulty of learning those accomplish-
ments which are necessary to be acquired.
For they may depend upon it, that fretful-
ness and ill-humour will make every condi-
tion unhappy ; while a resolution to be pleased,
and make the best of every thing, is the only
method to be agreeable to others, or comfort-
able themselves. The foot of the book-case
will press closer, when we petulantly try to
escape: and though children are not Pin-
cushions, yet they will find, that whenever
A PINCUSHION. 53
they arc fretful and dissatisfied, they will be
unhappy, and never succeed in any thing
they undertake. I hope I shall be pardoned
for this digression ; but as the event of my
escape was so strong in my mind, I could not
pass it by without a pause of observation.
Let me now, however, proceed to inform
my readers, that one fine day, when 1 had
determined to make myself contented, and
when, from the quietness in which I had been
for some days, I had reason to believe the
family were absent, and had therefore little
hope for release, on a sudden I felt the book-
case move, and heard the sound of men's
voices, who, after much pushing and hoisting,
took away what had so long covered me from
tne eye of every beholder. In short, I found
that Mrs. Stanley had taken another house,
. her lease was expired : and, in consequence
of the removal of her furniture, I regained
my liberty. One of the porters took me up,
and blew off the flue with which so long a
confinement had covered me; and, taking me
down stairs, presented me to a chair- woman,
54 THE ADVENTURES Ok
who was hired to clean the house. " There,
mother Trusty," said he, " is a present for
you, which, if you please, you may give to
little Jenny: it will make her as fine as a
lady." " Thank you," returned she, " I
will keep it safe for my girl ; and if you have
a bit of paper, I will wrap it up, for my hands
are wet and dirty, and when 1 take any thing
out of my pocket I may spoil it, you know,
But as to making her fine, Jacob, indeed I
do not desire it ; and were you to present any
thing to wear, she could not have it, for I
think finery is not suitable for us. She is a
good child, Jacob, and that is better than be.
ing a lady." " Well, mother Trusty, do as
you please, replied Jacob; I do not know
who the Pincushion belonged to; so if you
lika Jane should have it, why I am glad I
found it." So saying, he complained that the
weather was very hot, and, after wiping his
face with a coarse apron, which was tied round
him, he drank Mrs. Trusty's health; and
took a good draught of porter, which stood
on the table. He then sat down to eat some
A PINCUSHION. 55
bread and cheese, and, calling a great dog
which lay in one corner of the kitchen, made
him sit up on his hind legs to beg for some
victuals, and afterwards bring him his knot,
which he very dexterously did, by taking the
buckle of it in his mouth, and dragging it af-
ter him to his master. Another trick which
this animal had been taught, was to shut the
door at word of command ; and his last per-
formance to the entertainment of my new
•Mistress and Mr. Jacob, was to pick up his
master's wig and bring it upon his head,
which made indeed a very droll figure to the
spectators. At the conclusion of his meal,
Jacob bade adieu to mother Trusty, and they
each separated to pursue their different em-
ployments. I was in the mean time laid on
one of the shelves, curiously wrapped up in
a bit of paper, which had fallen from the back
of that very book-case under which I had so
long resided ; it was torn in two by Jacob,
who took one half to put up some bits of
cheese rinds for his dog ; and I found it was
a fragment of poetry, which I suppose had
56 THE ADVENTURES OF
been sent to Miss Saxby , as her name was
Martha. I amused myself with the perusal
of the lines, which were as follow :
FRAGMENT.
Tis a folly, my friend, thus to envy the great,
Since content may be found in the lowest estate ;
Tho' Miss***» exults that she's splendidly drest,
Of true happiness, Martha, she ne'er was pos-
sess'd.
I have seen her, my friend, when no art could
assuage
Her anger, vexation, and petulant rage ;
Because an inferior had treated with scorn
Those trinkets and gauze which her person adorn.
But, believe me, esteem from true merit must rise,
Or the world will the pageants of fortune despise ;
'Tis ridiculous surely, for pride to expect
Any better return than disdain and neglect.
Let us, then, my Martha, more prudent and wise,
Endeavour with nobler ambition to rise :
Let kind emulation our bosoms expand,
The foolish suggestions of pride to withstand.
A PINCUSHION. 57
Let us trust that perfection each effort shall bless
As industry e'er is crown'd with success :
Tho* hard is the task, yet 'tis great to aspire,
And the deep-buried embers of genius to fire.
Tis a laudable aim, when we seek to excel,
And conquer that sloth which is apt to rebel :
Then let us attentive each precept obey,
And snatch the proud laurels of glory away.
The business of the day being concluded
the good mother Trusty shut up the house ;
and taking me down from the shelf, put me
carefully in her pocket. We were not long
before we arrived at her habitation, which
consisted of two neat little rooms in a small
house, about the middle of a very pleasant
lane. A clean-looking boy and girl were
sitting at the door, with a coloured apron full
of peas, which they weie very busily shelling.
They expressed great pleasure at the sight of
Mrs. Trusty, whcm I found to be their
grandmother, and with much good humour
told her they had each earned a halfpenny;
for that Mrs. Traffic at the chandler's shop,
had given them one penny, and promised
58 THE ADVENTURES OF
them a farthings worth of gingerbread, or a
stale roll, for getting her peas ready for
supper. *' Well, and I have brought you
home something," replied Mrs. Trusty, un-
folding me to the child, who eagerly getting
up to receive her present, had nearly overset
the apron and its contents ; but her brother
luckily caught it, so as to prevent the peas
from falling into the dirt. " But pray,
Jenny, stay till you have done, and have
washed your hands, said her grandmother:
for it would be a pity to spoil this nice satin
pincushion ;" (( And what have you brought
for me ?" cried rosy Dick, as he emptied a
handful of peas into the bason. " Why,
nothing at all, my good boy, replied Mrs.
Trusty, but a piece of bread and cheese : but
I hope you are not jealous that your sister
should have any thing, when you cannot
partake of it ?" '•' Jealous !" said he : " No, 1
would go without any thing in the world for
the sake of my Jenny ; and I will give her
my half-penny with all my heart, though I
have staid away from a nice game at cricket
A PINCUSHION. 59
on tlie green to earn it. When I am a man,
yon shall see how hard I will work, and take
care of all the money I get, and give it to
you, grandmother, to buy us victuals and
drink, and clothes; and you shall stay at
home and knit ; but never, while I have any
health, shall you go out to such hard labour
as you now do." " Blessings on my gen-
erous boy," exclaimed the tender-hearted
Mother Trusty, while the tears of affection
rolled down her aged cheeks. " Just such a
man was thy father, Dick. While he was
alive, we never wanted for any thing. He was
a good man, indeed he was ; and 1 hope that
you will resemble him. But go, my boy ;
carry home your work, and bring the stale
roll which you was promised ; it will be mucl.
better for you than gingerbread."
Jenny kissed her brother, and thanked him
for his kind attention ; c< But we will give the
penny to our grandmother, said she ; you know
she has got five-pence three-farthings which
we have had given us already ; and when
there is enough, we will ask her to buy you a
60 THE ADVENTURES OF
pair of new shoes ; because those are too bad to
walk with." Away ran Richard with the peas,
and returned in triumph with the roll, when
the little party sat down to supper, with that
smiling good-humour and cheerful content-
ment, which is not always an attendant on the
meals of the rich and great. But when I saw
how very little was sufficient (or was obliged
to be so) for a woman who had been hard at
labour all day, and two little hungry children,
I could not help reflecting, how wicked it is in
those who are blessed with plenty, to be dis-
satisfied with their food, and idly waste, when
they are not disposed to eat it, that which
would keep the poor from starving, and which
many an unhappy child would be be highly
thankful to receive. When they had concluded
the meal which their grandmother had brough.
them, Dick ran to a neighbouring pump, to re
plenish a broken red pitcher which had lost its
handle and a piece out of the top : and after
they had each of them drank with thirsty
eagerness, he kissed his grandmother and sister,
and wishing them a good night, went quietly to
A PINCUSHION. 61
bed. Little Jenny followed her brother's
example, as soon as she had laid me in a
drawer with great care, where all her treasures
were deposited. Among that number, was a
little paper, which was nearly worn out with
frequent perusal, and with which I shall beg
leave to present my readers.
DICK TO HIS SISTER.
THOUGH I am but a boy, yet I'll do the best I can,
And I'll try to earn something, although I'm not a
man;
But when I am older, nay, Jenny, do not cry,
For the loss of thy father and mother I'll supply.
I'll go to yon farm-house, and beg a bit of bread;
And if I get a morsel, my Jenny shall be fed ;
Then do not weep so sore, for I hope we know the
worst,
And to see you look so dismal, my heart it will burst
Old grannam she will help us, and work for to
maintain ;
And when I am bigger, I will pay it all again.
Tho' as yet I cannot dig, yet a gleaning I may go »
Then stop your tears, my Jenny, for I cannot see
them flow.
G
62 THE ADVENTURES OF
When 1 pass tnro the church-yard, where Dadd)
is at rest ;
."" cannot help sobbing," and a sigh will heave my
breast ;
Mid I think to myself, if my Jenny too should die
Ah! who would her place to» her Richard e'e,
supply?
Then my sister cheer thine heart, and do not look
so sad :
If we can live together, matters will not be sj
bad,
Now the blackberries are ripe, and I'll gather some
for thee ;
And well eat them, my Jenny, beneath yon hollow
tree.
I know too, my love, where some honey may be
found ;
For I have often mark'd the place, which the bees
do surround ;
And I'll take som e for thee, for young Robin taught
me how,
One day when he followed in the field with his
plough.
Then, my J enny, be but happy, and cheer us with
a smile;
For I fain would make thee blest, and thy sorrows
all beguile
A PINCUSHION. 63
Tho' poor Daddy is no more, yet Richard loves
his Jane,
And all thy tears, my sister, can't bring him back
again.
Perhaps it may be thought an uncommon
effort for little Dick to turn poet at so early
an age, and with so few advantages from edu-
cation. But there is no answering for the
powers of natural genius, and many a one
may -regard the attempt as impossible, merely
because they are too indolent to exert their
faculties. Richard had been taught to read
and write at the charity school of the parish
where he lived ; and as no application had
been wanting on his part, the progress he
made did equal credit to his own abilities and
the attention of his master, with whom his
merit made him a great favourite.
Jenny was likewise put to a small school
at a little distance, by the benevolence of the
vicar's wife (with whom such instances were
verv frequent), and by her assiduity recom-
mended herself to her mistress, who would •
64 THE ADVENTURES OF
often propose her example as a pattern to tht
rest of her scholars.
The next morning, when mother Trusty
got up to her daily labour, she kissed her
grand-children, and told them to go to school
early, and not stay and play afterwards; but
to return back again, for she would probably
come home to dinner. This they promised
to do ; and after they had learned their les-
sons, they affectionately hugged each other,
and diligently set forward with their books in
their hands. But Jenny in a few minutes re-
turned to fetch me, in order to exhibit her
new present to her school-fellows. We soon
arrived at a cottage, the apartments of which
were neither large nor numerous; but the
exquisite cleanliness of it was truly admira-
ble. The mistress, whose name was Mark all,
was dressed in a blue and white striped gown,
which was rather of the coarsest materials;
but was put on with the neatness of a Quaker,
as was a plain bordered mob, with a white
•cloth binder, and a coloured silk handker-
chief; which, >vith the addition of a checked
A PINCUSHION. 65
apron, and a black petticoat, will give a pretty
good idea of her appearance. She commend-
ed Jenny for coming early, and having in-
quired after her grandmother and brother,
heard her read, and repeat the lesson she had
the day before given her to learn. Soon after
which, Betsy Field, Nanny Hay, and the rest
of the scholars arrived ; among which num^
ber were likewise several boys. As the room
door (which indeed was the door of the house
too) was left open for the benefit of the air,
and as one of the forms where the girls were
at work was placed on that side, they were
many of them better disposed to watch the
passing of a cart or a wheel-barrow, or to at-
tend the flight of birds and butterflies, than
to mind their works: and Mrs. Markall
punished several of them with a few strokes
of a little cane, which lay on her table for
that purpose.
After she had heard them read, they stood
round her in a circle to spejl ; and those who
were so negligent as to mistake, lost their
place in the set, and exchanged with their
66 THE ADVENTURES OF
more attentive companions. A precedency in
the ring was coveted with great ardour, and
encouraged a spirit of emulation among them,
as to stand first (which was my mistress's
distinction) was regarded as an acknowledg-
ment of superior excellence. When they had
finished their business, and the wished for
hour of twelve struck from the church clock,
which was very near Mrs. MarkalPs house,
they all made their rustic curtsies and bows
to the Dame, and poured like a swarm of
summer flies into the lane. The whole body
of them stood Tor a few moments to inter-
change their mutual salutations: when some
divided to the right hand, and the other party
to the left, which led to the church porch,
where they seated themselves to be sheltered
from the intense heat of the sun ; and Jenny,
with a smile of conscious satisfaction, pro-
duced me to her companions. Though she
was anxious to display what she was so well
pleased with herself, yet she began to be ap-
prehensive for my safety, when the girls, with
unpolished rudeness, all scrambled for a sigl
A PINCUSHION. 67
of her present at the same time. At last the
two whose names are above mentioned, pur-
sued Polly Chaunt, who was in possession of
me, and after scuffling on the grass, till
Nanny Hay knocked her head with great vio-
lence against one of the tomb-stones, and
Betsy sprained her wrist in trying to wrench
me from Polly, she ran home with the prize
with so much swiftness, as to outstrip all her
competitors. What became of poor Jenny I
cannot tell, nor how she bore the loss of me ;
but I could not help reflecting how much
better it would have been, had these girls
been sufficiently polite, to have each satisfied
their own curiosity and then have resigned
me to the inspection of others. Whereas, by
all eagerly snatching me at once, they dirtied
my outside, and pulled me quite out of shape;
together with making them all very angry,
and foolishly commencing a quarrel, of which
the first consequences were the wounds I have
mentioned. Polly Chaunt, whose property
I so unjustly became, was the daughter of
the parish clerk. He was by trade a shoe-
DO THE ADVENTURES OF
maker, and had three children, two girls and
a boy. His wife was a notable little woman,
who took care of some poultry, pigs, and
asses, which were allowed to feed upon a
green before the house.
As soon as niy new mistress arrived at
home, her mother ordered her to prepare
what was wanted for dinner, at the same time
telling her, she was much displeased that she
did not return from school sooner. Polly an-
swered in a manner which convinced me, she
was more pert than prudent ; and ran into a
little back wash-house to her sister, who was
taking a piece of bacon out of the saucepan,
and who likewise chid her delay; adding,
that dinner was ready, and she had been
wanted to lay the table-cloth. In reply to
this, she told the history I have just related,
and produced me to her sister, who, wiping
her hands on a bit of rag which hung upon
a nail in the window, took me up to examine ;
when lo! Polly, who was at all times too
hasty to attend to reason, not chusing that
Sukey should touch me for fear of spoiling
A PINCUSHION. 69
my beauty, hastily snatched me from her,
aifd dropped me, not into the saucepan,
which I escaped, but into a bason of soap and
water which stood near it, and in which Mrs.
Chaunt had just been washing her hands.
Upon this arose a quarrel between the sisters,
which was terminated by the entrance of their
father, who insisted on their bringing his din-
ner immediately; and Polly, after having
carefully wiped, laid me on a clean handker-
chief to dry. I staid with this family some
days, and was witness to many disagreements
between the different parties which composed
it ; but as I do not think the recital of illibe-
ral abuse could afford any entertainment to
my readers, I shall not trouble myself to re-
peat it. But the folly of such behaviour
must be evident to every reflecting mind,
when it is considered that although the scenes
I have mentioned passed in the low life of
poverty, yet the same ill-humour would occa-
sion equal animosity in the most affluent cir-
cumstances. And though no situation can
justify fretful petulance, yet it was certainly
70 THE ADVENTURES OF
more excusable in girls who were untaugtit
by education, and unpolished by politeness
than in those with whom the utmost care has
been exerted, and who have had all the ad-
vantages of reading and instruction to contri-
bute to their improvement. That it is pos-
sible for good-humour, and a determined en-
deavour to please, in a great measure to sup-
ply the deficiency of acquired graces, may be
seen in the characters of Richard and Jenny >
whose affection to each other must interest
every one in their favour : and the same
sweetness of temper will likewise recommend
to my readers' esteem the agreeable Hannah
Mindful, to whom I was given one Sunday
afternoon by Polly Chaunt, in a walk which
they took together after church. And sin-
cerely glad was I to exchange mistresses, as
my last had been so ill-tempered and quarrel-
some, and had taken me in so unjustifiable a
manner from the good-natured little Jenny.
Hannah was near fourteen years old, and the
eldest of six children. Her mother was a
very worthy woman, but was afflicted with
A PINCUSHION. 71
such bad health, that she was seldom able to
leave her bed. Her father had a small farm,
and was very industrious in his business, and
very careful of his family ; and I was quite
astonished to think of how much service
Hannah's attention proved to her brothers
and sisters ; and what a comfort it was to her
sick mother to have such a good girl, in
whom she could confide, and to whose care
she could intrust them.
After she had parted from my late owner,
she was met in her way home by the vicar,
whose lady was mentioned as the benefactress
of my favourite Jenny, and who, with her
husband, was returning to his house. He
stopped at the gate, and desired Hannah to
wait there, or amuse herself in the garden,
while he went to fetch a medicine which he
had promised to send to her mother ; and at
Lis return presented her with a couple of fine
teaches, which he told her to eat, as she was
a good girl. She thanked him very civilly,
and, after wishing him good night, ran home
as fast as possible, for fear her mother should
72 THE ADVENTURES OF
want her ; to whom she immediately presented
her present, without offering to taste them
herself. A neice of Mr. MindfuPs lived at
this time in his house, whose name was Sally
Flaunt ; and who had been a half-boarder at
a great school near London, where she was
put by a relation, whose death left her no
friend but her uncle. She was entirely un-
provided for ; yet was so inconsiderately
proud, as to make herself a burden to the
family^ instead of trying to be of any service ;
which she might have had a sufficient oppor-
tunity of being, as she was near fifteen, and
very tall of her age. When Hannah rose in
the morning to assist in getting breakfast,
dressing her sisters, and making the beds.
Sally would disdainfully turn round to sleep,
because it was, in her silly opinion, unlike
a lady to get up early. Without any for-
tune, or the slightest recommendation but her
industry, she was ever foolishly aiming at
a rank in life to which she had no preten-
sions ; and without sense to distinguish, that
it is gracefulness of manners and superior
A PINCUSHION. 73
(earning that form the essential difference
between high life and poverty, and that merit
is as much entitled to respect in the lowest
circumstances of indigence, as in the most
exalted station, she was so weak as toimagine^
that by imitating some of those foibles she
had seen in girls who had more fortune than
understanding, she should be thought to
resemble them, and meet with that regard
which is not bestowed on riches, but on the
supposed worth of those who possess them.
While Hannah went up stairs to carry some
tfater-gruel to her mother, she dispatched
one of her little sisters to tell Sally that
breakfast was ready ; but as she had slept so
long, it was some time before she could make
her appearance ; and Mr. Mindful, who was
justly displeased with her indolence, told one
of his children to carry her milk away ; for
that those who were too lazy to provide for them-
selves, and to be ready at the proper time,
might go without food. When Sally there-
fore came down, she was much disappointed
to hear that a fast was for the present enjoin-
74 ADVENTURES OF
ed as her portion ; and looking very much
out of humour, she walked into the garden.
He followed her out ; and as he was turning
round a little yew hedge which fronted a
field, he took hold of her hand, and pulling
her into the kitchen, told her he was displeased
at her behaviour. " You are foolish, Sally,
taid he, because you have been to school to ima-
gine that you have nothing further to do than
sit with your hands before you, and play the
fine lady. You have no money to provide for
yourself, and there is no person will take
care of you if you do not work hard to get
your bread. Behave as you should, and I
will treat you as my own child ; but if you
have two much pride to know your duty
and will not mind my advice, I will turn yori
out to try where you can live better than
with me." Sally knew she durst not reply to
this positive speech; and fearing her uncle
should become more angry, she promised
to behave better, and walked up stairs to
Hannah, who was dusting the furniture in
her own room.
A PINCUSHION. 75
To her she related the above particulars,
with the tears running down her cheeks, and
with the most dismal sobs of distress and pas-
sion. My good natured mistress compas-
sionately kissed her, and wept to see her dis-
turbance ; " but indeed, my dear Sally,"
said she, *' I wish you would try to exert
yourself, and as you cannot be a lady, you
had better endeavour to please my father.
You see we all live very happily, and I am
sure I would do all in my power to make you
do so too ; so cheer up your spirits, and do
net weep so sadly." — " 1 cannot," replied
Sally, very crossly : " indeed you may, who
have never seen any higher life ; but where I
was at school do you think any of the ladies
scoured the rooms, or milked the cow, or went
to such work as washing and ironing ? O !
Hannah, had you seen the caps, and feathers,
and muslin and gauze frocks, which they
used to wear on a dancing-day, and how smart
they looked in their silk shoes, or else red
morocco ones, you would not wonder that I
do not like these great black leather things,
8?
76 THE ADVENTURES OF
(and she scornfully tossed out her foot as she
spoke). Indeed, Hannah, I could cry when-
ver I see you and your sisters clothed in
such coarse gowns, with your black worsted
stockings, and with that check handkerchief
on your neck, and your round cloth caps,
with that piece of linen for a ribbon. I can-
not bear it ! and I wish I was any thing but
what I am." — " O fie, Sally !" said Hannah,
" that is quite ungrateful for the good things
which you are blessed with, to talk in such i
manner as that." — " What good things ?" re-
torted the haughty girl, raising her voice,
and growing more angry. " Do you call
this dowlas shift, this coarse apron, this lin-
sey-woolsey gown, good things ? Or do you
call the brown bread we eat, or the hard dump-
lings you were making just now, good things ?
And pray, this old worm-eaten bed, without
any curtains to it, and this little window,
which is too small to admit one's head out,
and what little hole there is, is quite crammed
full of honey-suckles; or this propped-up
chest of drawers, or that good-for-nothing
A PINCUSHION. 77
chair with a great hole in the bottom, which
you know Bet nearly fell through yesterday,
when she got upon it to reach the box which
holds her Sunday straw-hat; do you call
these good things ? because, if you do, I am
sorry you know no better." — ". I should be
sorry indeed," rejoined Hannah, with rather
more displeasure than was usual to her, " if
I knew so much of high life as to be disor-
iented with what my father and mothei ran
afford. I think our bread is as good as any
body need wish for ; and I am sure the dump-
lings you so scornfully mention, will be very
well tasted and wholesome. As to the furni-
ture, if it is old, I will answer for its being
clean, Sally; and my father says, he can
nail on a piece of board over that chair, which
will last as many years as the bafk Iocs. And
as to our clothes, I am sure tney are whole
and tight; for I would work my fingers u>
the bone before I would see them otherwise.
They are coarse to be sure ; but they are as
good as our neighbours', and many a one
would be thankful to have such to put on:
78 THE ADVENTURE?. OF
and though you speak so proudly of the
house and every thing in it, I have seen the
ladies at Oakly Hall, who are worth as muco
money as would buy all the villages for twen-
ty miles round, come as kindly and sit down
in my mother's room, and take hold of my
hand, and my sister's, and speak as prettily
as if I had been a lady too; without looking
at the chairs, or finding fault with the bed.
And Miss Goodall, although she is dressed so
handsomely, never seems to think about it ;
and the last time she stopped here, took the
loaf out of my father's hand, and said, let me
cut Mrs. Mindful a piece of bread and but-p
ter ! I can do it very well ; and it shall be
thin, such as I know she can eat. And she
brought with her a cannister of sago, and
went herself to the fire, and poured the water
to mix it, and put some wine into it, which
she brought with her ; and showed me the
way to do it, with so much good-natute, that
J do not think you need be so very proud,
SaJly, and look so unhappy about your situa-
tion. And I assure you she has sometimes
A PINCUSHION.
79
eaten our bread, and always said it was very
good." Hannah was here interrupted by one
of* her sisters, who came to call her to assist
her mother, who was going to get up. She
attended her immediately, and taking me out
of her pocket, into which she hastily put me
at the conclusion of the above conversation,
she placed me on the table, while she assisted
Mrs, Mindful in putting on a clean cap and
bed-gown; and after she had helped her to
an old elbow chair, she made the bed ; which.
4s soon as she had finished, she went into the
garden, and, returning with a nice nosegay
of flowers, placed them in a little white stone
mug, upon the table, in order, by their sweet-
ness, to refresh and please her mother, as she
was very fond of them. She then kissed her
with great tenderness, and begged her to take
an egg beat up with some milk, which she im-
mediately got ready. These little services
were all performed with so much alacrity and
good nature, and such visible pleasure in her
countenance, as doubled the merit of all her
fictions. It was impossible indeed to sec her.
80 THE ADVENTURES OF
without thinking how very agreeable it is in
the power of good-nature and industry to
make those who have no other advantages to
recommend them.
Hannah Mindful was a healthy-looking
country girl ; her complexion was burnt by
the sun, and her hands hardened by labo-
rious toil ; she was not ornamented by dress,
though her person was at all times made
agreeable by neatness: she had never been
taught those graces which so forcibly re-
commend the possessor to general observation ;
but a constant cheerfulness, and a desire
of obliging, which was never interrupted
by petulence, made her beloved by every
one who knew her. To be as good-natured
as Hannah Mindful, was the highest praise
of every girl in the village ; and every
mother was ready to propose her conduct
as an example to her own children. If
there was a piece of bread which her sisters
liked better than the rest of the loaf, she
would save it for them by turns, whenever
she had opportunity. If any of them went
A PINCUSHION. 81
to play, and forgot the business which feJl to
their share, or which their mother had ordered
Jieni to do, she would either fetch them home
again, or (if in her power) do it for them
herself. By this she often saved them from
punishment. One day when her father had
brought two ribbons from a fair, for her sister
Molly and herself, he gave Hannah the liberty
of choosing first. She directly took a pink,
which was her favourite colour, and left a
dark green, which was what she most disliked ;
but afterwards finding her sister wished for
the one she had chosen, she gave it to her
immediately, with as much* readiness as if she
had approved of the exchange from the pre-
ference to the colour she disliked. Sally told
her she thought it was foolish to give up
what she had in her possession ; but Hannah,
with a generosity which did great credit to
the goodness of her disposition, replied, that
she should never have worn with comfort
what she evidently saw her sister was desi-
rous to obtain :" " and I declare," added
she, " I feel a much higher gratification in
82 THE ADVENTURES OF
the idea of giving pleasure to my dear Molly,
than I should receive from any difference of
colour, or from a present of much greater
value." Sally was not of that opinion; for
the indulgence of pride is the occasion of
selfishness, and the cause of the most des-
picable meanness. By wishing for great
riches, and despising that way of life to which
she was destined, her heart was constantly
agitated by anxious vexation. Whereas,
Hannah was always cheerful, good-humoured,
and contented: and the same incidents, which
to the one were the occasion of dissatisfaction
and complaint, the other submitted to without
repining, and rejoiced with gratitude at tfie
felicity of her lot. And thus, my young
readers, will it be with persons of higher rank
than those of whom I am now writing. If
you make yourself unhappy because some of
your companions have more elegant clothes,
or a greater variety than yourself; or because
it may suit the fortune of their parents to
make more splendid entertainments than the
choice or circumstances of yours will admit
A PINCUSHION. 83
if they ride in their father's carriage, while you
walk on foot and unattended, remember, that
is no rational cause of uneasiness. It is not
the station, but the propriety with which it is
sustained, that is the real matter of concern.
A beggar may be more respectable than
a prince, if he is sunk to indigence by mis-
fortune ; and exerts his utmost powers to act
with industry, and maintain the proper con-
'luct which his situation requires. Let me
advise you, then, not to wish for that finery,
which would be unsuitable to your circum-
stances ; but to submit to the discretion of
your parents, because they must know best
what is proper for you. Sally Flaunt had
not the power to make her uncle's brown
bread in the least degree whiter, although
she was too fretful to eat it with satisfaction.
She could not enlarge the rooms, or repair
the furniture, by her discontent; but she
might have been as happy as her cousin, had
she been disposed to be good-humoured.
When any business is necessary to be per-
formed, if it is done with sullcnness and ill-
84 THE ADVENTURES OF
will, it becomes the most laborious toil and
most irksome employment ; but if it is exe-
cuted with cheerfulness, it is much saoner
dispatched, and the fatigue is considerably
abated. It is time, however, to return to my
own adventures, without trespassing longar
on your patience by my advice.
I had continued so 112 time with my mis-
tress, when Mr. Goodall (whose daughter, I
believe, I have before mentioned,) gave an
entertainment to his tenants, on account of
her attaining her eighteenth year. Mr.
Mindful, out of kindness to his family,
detej mined to stay at home himself, and
..ake care of his wife, while he dispatched all
the young ones who were of a proper age, to
enjoy an amusement which would afford them
so much pleasure. Hannah dressed herself
and two sisters, as neat as rustic simplicity
could adorn them. They had each of them
light brown stuff gowns, white aprons and
handkerchiefs, with straw hats ; her own
with green, and her sisters with pink ribbons.
They had all a nosegay of flowers in their
A PINCUSHION. 85
bosoms, and with the freshness of innocence
and health glowing in their cheeks, prepared
to set out for Oakly Hall. Hannah did not
forget to get ready every thing she thought
her mother might want in her absence; and,
with a kiss of filial affection, bade her adieu.
Jack Mindful, her brother, was a lad of
about thirteen, very active and sprightly,
and sometimes apt to be extremely mischie-
vous. I have had no opportunity before this
to introduce him to the notice of my readers ;
but the part he took in dressing his cousin
for the intended sport, will make it necessary
to exhibit him on the present occasion. Sally,
whose attention was wholly engrossed by the
pride of excelling her companions in the
finery of clothes, had been for some days bu-
sily employed in mending an old silk coat,
which had been given her during her stay at
school. It had originally been ornamented
with gauze cuffs, which were grown dirty and
yellow with keeping: the rest of the trim-
ming was sufficiently decayed, to make it a
rather despicable garb; and Mrs. Mindful,
86 THE ADVENTURES OF
who justly thought such shabby finery very
improper for her niece's situation, insisted
upon her going in a new garnet-coloured stuff,
which she had lately bought her. This Sally
was much distressed at, and communicated
her intention to her cousin Jack, who pro-
mised to assist her in her design ; which was,
after she had taken leave of Mrs. Mindful, to
carry her clothes to a barn at some distance,
and there put on the silk coat which she ima-
gined would make her so much better re-
spected by the family at Oakly Hall. To
this place she then repaired, her heart beat-
ing with expectation, and flattered with the
imagination of outshining all her companions.
She had made up a new cap for the occasion ;
and as she was very tall and womanly in her
appearance, thought if she could form any
substitute for a cushion, it would much im-
prove her fashionable appearance. On this
great occasion, she borrowed me of Hannah,
who went before her cousin; as she did not
chuse to have any witness but Jack, who was
the only person entrusted with this important
A PINCUSHION. 87
secret. At the barn then we soon arrived,
and her stuff gown was thrown off with dis-
dain, while she prepared, with the assistance
of an old triangular bit of a broken looking
glass, to equip for the desirable expedition.
After placing the cushion, which she had
taken great pains to complete, and pinning
her hair over it with a piece of black ribbon,
she put on the cap ; which exhibited the most
tawdry collection of old gauze, bits of ribbon,
and slatternly tassels, that can well be ima-
gined. At last came the trial of the coat,
which as it had been made very long behind,
was in that respect tolerable ; but its appear-
ance in front was so short as to be really ridi-
culous. During the time she was looking at
her head in the glass, Jack, in turning round
hastily threw it down a hole, which he had
purposely contrived, and where it was impos-
sible to regain it, as it was so instantly out of
sight, that Sally had not an idea where it had
vanished. Her search was totally in vain,
and she could only finish her dress by Jack's
direction. He pretended to admirp her •»!>•
88 THE ADVENTURES OF
pearance extremely ; and, to make it the more
complete, he had before tied a couple of
gheep^s feet to a piece of ribbon, which he
now pinned to her shoulders, fastening them
close to her back with another string which
he likewise pinned down ; and by way of ad-
dition to the streamers in her cap, he sus-
pended a number of bits of straw, which he
had tied together with a piece of packthread.
With these burlesque ornaments she hurried
with him to the Hall ; and as she was enter-
ing the door which led to the house, under
pretence of fastening a piece of the trimming
which he said he could improve, he undid
the lower pins, and let the sheep's feet dance
about upon her back, to the unspeakable en-
tertainment of every beholder. The laugh
which her appearance occasioned covered her
with confusion : and her pride was mortified
in the highest degree, to find her finery treat-
ed with such a degree of contemptuous mirth,
instead of that admiration, with which she
had flattered herself. The boys were eager
to dissect her head-dress ; and Polly Chaunt,
A PINCUSHTON. 89
who was of the party, very maliciously pin-
ned one of her cuffs to the table-cloth, as she
was lolling her head on her hand, to hide
those tears of vexation which she could not
forbear. Unfortunately she rose in some
haste, upon the appearance of Mr. Goodall,
who entered the room to welcome his guests,
and dragged down the saltseller, and several
plates, knives, forks, and spoons ; which had
they been brittle materials would have been
certainly demolished ; but as the whole ser-
vice was of pewter, they escaped unhurt.
The bustle which this accident occasioned,
still more disconcerted the unfortunate Sally
Flaunt ; who, bursting into tears, very hasti-
ly left the room. In the angry jerk, with
which she walked away from the company,
her two shoulders were saluted with the
sheep's feet, in such a manner as to make her
imagine she had received a blow, which she
turned round very quickly in order to resent;
but the agility of her motions, only served to
rc'peat the imagined offence, the author of
which, however, she found it impossible to
i 3
90 ADVENTURES OF
discern. But, as she was going through an
apartment which led to the garden, she dis-
covered her own figure in a large pier-glass;
the sight of which so fully completed her
vexation, that she determined to hurry home
immediately ; and snatching her handker-
chief from her pocket to wipe her eyes, she
whirled me out with it to a considerable dis-
tance, and without perceiving her loss, left
me to enjoy my own reflections. -The thought
of Sally's ridiculous vanity entirely took up
my attention. How happily might she have
passed the day, had she been contented to do
so in her proper character! But, by assuming
a superiority to her companions, she excited
the contempt of Jack Mindful, who was de-
termined to mortify her pride, by making her
an object of ridicule; and though his mis-
chievous intention was certainly extremely
blameable, yet it was her own folly which
put the execution of it into his power. Had
she not determined so meanly to deceive, and
disobey her aunt, by pretending to comply
with her advice at the very moment she was
A PINCUSHION. 91
prepared to act in opposition to it, she would
have escaped that mortification, which was
undoubtedly deserved.
I lay unperceived by the door of a little
closet till the next morning; when Mrs.
Betty, who came to sweep the room, picked
me up, and laid me some time on a marble
slab; after she had finished her business, I
accompanied her to breakfast. My new
mistress was a pleasing young woman, who
was a housemaid in Mr. GoodalPs family.
She sat down with the laundry-maid, whose
name was Joice, and who complained very
much of the heat of the weather. " I have
been so ill for some days past," said she,
" that I can with difficulty stand to wash ;**
and the heat of the fire when I am ironing,
makes me much worse than I should other-
wise be: and then Miss Sophy is so careless,
she never considers what will dirt her clothes,
nor how much work she occasions. I am
sure her sister at her age was always neat
and nice, with half the number of frocks and
petticoats which she requires I wonder that
92 THE ADVENTURES OF
a young lady should not have more com-
passion for a poor servant." — " That is
because they do not know the trouble it is,"
replied Betty : " but indeed, Joice, Miss
Sophy is the same in every thing. If she is
cutting a piece of gauze, or paper, she is sure
to make a litter all over the room ; and I
have often seen her cut a card into a thousand
bits on the carpet, without making any use of
it at all : and if she is undoing her work, or
picking her doll's clothes to pieces, she will
strew the threads on the floor, without think-
ing how much trouble it gives me to take
them up again. But if she would but put
the bits of rubbish into a piece of paper, it
might be taken away without any difficulty .*
" She will never be beloved like her sister,"
said Joice. *' And then she does not look
so much like a lady ; for Jerry says, that
when he is waiting at dinner, he cannot help
looking at her, to see how she leans against
the table (that is one way in which she makes
her frock so dirty,) and takes such great
mouthfuls, and eaU so exceeding fast, as if
t
S.-n-ante at Tta m the
A PINCUSHION. 93
she were starving, and thought she should
lose her dinner ; and sometimes she drinks
without wiping her mouth, and very frequent-
ly when it is not empty." — " O ! I have seen
her myself," interrupted Betty ; " I have seen
her, when I have been waiting at breakfast,
grasp the spoon in her hand quite down to
the bowl of it, and my mistress has told her it
looked very unmannerly ; and then she
altered it for a minute, but as soon held it as
awkwardly as ever. But what I am most
angry with her for, is slopping her milk, or
tea, on the tables, just afterl have rubbed them
till they are as bright as looking-glasses;
and then she smears her hands across, and
all my labour goes for nothing. I wonder
how she would like this hot day to have such
violent exercise. But ladies have often little
consideration for their servants' feelings." —
" To be sure," said Mrs. Joice, " my mastei
and mistress and Miss Goodall are very good-
natured, Betty ; and Miss Sophy will, I hope,
think more of the consequence of her actions
when she is older. I would do any thing in
94 THE ADVENTURES OF
the world for my mistress, she speaks so
kindly; and when I am ill, she says, 'Take
your time, Joice, and do not fatigue yourself
to day; I hope you will be hetter to-morrow.'
I do not care how I slave when people are
considerate, and seem to think I do my
duty." During the latter part of this con-
versation, Mrs. Betty had laid me on the
table, and was pinning her gown close, which
had before hung loose, only fastened with
one pin at the top, and the two sides turned
behind : and, at the conclusion of it, Mrs.
Joice, who had been clearing away the break-
fast things, folded me up in the table-cloth,
and carrying me under her arm to the
poultry yard, shook me out with the crumbs.
She turned round at the same time to speak
to a gardener, who was emptying some weeds
out of his apron upon the dunghill, and did
not see my fall. After her departure, I was
pecked at alternately by almost all the fowls*
till at last I was tossed by a bantam hen
under the little water-tub, where I had lain
ever since. My last unfortunate adventure
A PINCUSHION. 9J>
has so dirtied my outside, that I should not
now be known. But if the recital of what
has hitherto befallen me has at all engaged
the reader's regard I hope I shall not lose
their approbation, from a change of situation
or appearance.
The catastrophe which had thus reduced
me, was entirely unexpected ; and should
teach them, that no seeming security can
guard from those accidents, which may in a
moment reduce the prospect of affluence to a
state of poverty and distress ; and therefore
it is a mark of folly, as well as meanness, to
be proud of those distinctions, which are at
all times precarious in enjoyment, and uncer-
tain in possession.
BASKET-MAKER,
A PERUVIAN TALE.
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow,
The rest is all but leather and prunello. POPE.
IN the midst of the vast ocean commonly
called the South Sea, lie the Islands of Solo-
mon. In the centre of these lies one, not
only distant from the rest, which are imme-
diately scattered round it, but also larger
beyond proportion. An ancestor of the
prince who now reigns absolute in the cen-
tral island, has, through a long descent of
ages, entailed the name of Solomon's Islands
on the whole, by the effect of that wisdom
•A BASKET-MAKER. 97
wherewith he polished the manners of the
people.
A descendant of one of the great men of
these happy islands, becoming a gentleman
to so improved a degree, as to despise the
good qualities which originally ennobled his
family, thought of nothing but how to support
and distinguish his dignity by the pride of
an ignorant mind, and a disposition aban-
doned to pleasure. He had a house on the
sea-side, where he spent great part of his
time in hunting and fishing : but he found
himself at a loss in pursuit of those important
diversions, by means of a long slip of marsh
land, over-grown with high reeds that lay
between his house and the sea. Resolving, at
length, that it became not a man of his quality
to submit to restraint in his pleasures for the
ease and convenience of an obstinate me-
chanic; and having often endeavoured in vain
to buy out the owner, who was an honest
poor basket-maker, and whose livelihood de-
pended on working up the flags of those
re^ds in a manner peculiar to himself, the
7.
98 THE ADVENTURES OF
gentletnati took advantage of a very high
wind, and commanded his servants to burn
down the barrier.
The basket-maker, who saw himself un-
f'pne, complained of the oppression in terms
more suited to his sense of the injury, than
the respect due to the rank of the offender :
and the ' reward this imprudence procured
him, was the additional injustice of blows
and reproaches, and all kinds of insult and
indignity.
There was but one way to remedy, and
he took it; for going to the capital with
the marks 01 his hard usage upon him,
he threw himself at the feet of the king, and
procured a citation for his oppressor's ap-
pearance, who, confessing the charge, pro-
ceeded to justify his behaviour by the poor
man's unmindfulness on the submission due
from the vulgar to a gentleman of rank and
distinction.
But pray, replied the king, what dis-
tinction of rank had the grandfather of your
father, when, being a cleaver of wood in the
A BASKET-MAKER. 99
palace of my ancestors, he was raised from
among those vulgar you speak of with such
contempt, in reward for an instance he gave
of his courage and loyalty in defence of his
master ! Yet his distinction was nobler than
yours ; it was the distinction of soul, not of
birth ; the superiority of worth, not of for-
tune ! I am sorry I have a gentleman in my
kingdom, who is base enough to be ignorant,
that ease and distinction of fortune were
bestowed on him but to this end, that, being
at rest from all cares of providing for himself,
he might apply his heart, head, and hand
for the public advantage of others.
Here the king, discontinued his speech,
fixed an eye of indignation on a sullen resent-
ment of mien which he observed in the
haughty offender, who muttered out his dis-
like of the encouragement this way of think-
ing must give to the commonalty, who he
Baid, were to be considered as persons of no
consequence, in comparison of men who were
born to be honoured. Where reflection is
wanting, replied the king, with a ^mile of
100 THE ADVENTURES OF
disdain, men must find their defects in the
pain of their sufferings. Yanhuma, added he,
turning to a captain of his galleys, strip the
injured and the injurer ; and convey them to
one of the most barbarous and remote of the
islands, set them ashore in the night, and leave
them both to their fortune.
The place in which they were landed was
a marsh ; under cover of whose flags the
gentlemen was in hopes to conceal himself,
and give the slip to his companion, whom he
thought it a disgrace to be found with ; but
the lights in the galley having given an alarm
to the savages, a considerable body of them
came down, and discovered, in the morning,
the two strangers in their hiding-place. Set-
ting up a dismal yell, they surrounded them ;
and advancing nearer and nearer with a kind
of clubs, seemed determined to dispatch them,
without sense of hospitality or mercy.
Here the gentleman began to discover that
the superiority of his blood was imaginary:
for between the consciousness of shame and
cold, under the nakedness he had never been
A BASKET-MAKER. lOl
used to ; a fear of the event from the
fierceness of the savages* approach, and
the want of an idea whereby to soften or
divert their asperity, he fell behind the poor
sharer of his calamity, and with an unsin-
ewed apprehensive unmanly sneakingness of
niuin, gave up the post of honour, and made
a leader of the very man whom he had
thought it a disgrace to consider as a com-
panion.
The basket- maker, on the contrary, to
whom the poverty of his condition had made
nakedness habitual; to whom a life of pain
and mortification represented death as not
dreadful ; and whose remembrance of his
skill in arts, of which these savages were
ignorant, gave him hopes of becoming safe,
from demonstrating that he could be useful,
moved with bolder and more open freedom ;
and, having plucked a handful of the flags,
sat down without emotion, and making
signs that he would show them something
worthy of their attention, fell to work with
tmilcs and noddings ; while the savages
102 THE ADVENTURES OF
drew near, and gazed with expectation of the
consequence.
It was not long before he had wreathed a
kind of coronet, of pretty workmanship; and
rising with respect and fearfulness, approached
the savage who appeared the chief, and placed
it gently on his head; whose figure under
this new ornament, so charmed and struck
his followers, that they all threw down their
clubs, and formed a dance of welcome and
congratulation round the author of so prized
a favour.
There was not one but showed the marks
of his impatience to be made as fine as the
captain: so the poor basket-maker had his
hands full of employment : and the savages
observing one quite idle, while the other was
so busy in their service, took up arms in be-
half of natural justice, and began to lay on
arguments in favour of their purpose.
The basket-maker's pity now effaced the
remembrance of his sufferings: so he arose
and rescued his oppressor, by making signs
that he was ignorant of the art ; but might,
A BASKET-MAKER. 103
if they thought fit, be usefuJly employed in
waiting on the work, and fetching flags to his
supply, as fast he should want them.
This proposition luckily fell in with a
desire the savages expressed to keep them-
selves at leisure, that they might crowd
round, and mark the progress of a work
they took such pleasure in. They left the
gentleman, therefore, to his duty in the
basket-maker's service; and considered him,
from that time forward, as one who was,
and ought to be treated as inferior to their
benefactor.
Men, women, and children, from all corners
of the island, came in droves for coronets;
and setting the gentleman to work to gather
boughs and poles, made a fine hut to lodge
the basket-maker ; and brought down daily
from the country such provisions as they
lived upon themselves ; taking care to offer
the imagined servant nothing till his master
had done eating.
Three months' reflection, in this mortified
104 THE ADVENTURES OF
condition, gave a new and just turn to our
gentleman's improved idea; insomuch, that
lying weeping and awake, one night, he
thus confessed Jus sentiments in favour of
the basket-maker: I have been to blame,
and wanted judgment to distinguish between
accident and excellence. When I should
have measured nature, I but looked to va-
nity. The preference which fortune gives is
empty and imaginary : and I perceive, too
late* that only things of use are naturally
Honourable. I am ashamed, when I com
pare my malice, to remember your humanity :
but if the gods should please to call me to
repossession of my rank and happiness, I
would divide all with you in atonement for
my justly punished arrogance.
He promised, and performed his promise :
for the king, soon after, sent the captain who
had landed them, with presents to the savages ;
and ordered him to bring both back again.
And it continues to this day a custom in that
island, to degrade all gentlemen who cannot
A BASKET- MAKER. 105
give a better reason for their pride, than
that they were born to do nothing : and
the word for this due punishment, is, Send
him back to the basket-maker.
ON CHARITY
The soul that feels for others'owe,
From heav'n its origin doth show.
ZACCHOR and Esreff, two youths, beg-
ged the dervise Morat, their tutor, who
was a Seer, and blessed by Mahomet with
vhe knowledge of future events, to permit
them to visit the curiosities of Aleppo, to
which place they were but lately come for
the advantage of the wise and holy man's
instructions, and who had undertaken thei»*
education : he gave each of them a few aspei
on going forth, to expend on whatever the '
ON CHARITY. 107
racli nations prompted to ; and on their return,
he inquired how they had disposed of the
money ? I, said Zacchor, cast my eyes on
some of the finest dates Syria ever produced,
I laid out my aspers, and indulged in what
perhaps I shall never meet the like again.
And I, said Esreff, met a poor helpless
wretch with an infant at her breast, whose
cries pierced my soul ; she was reduced to
the very utmost extremity; the angel of
death seemed to glare forth at her eyes, and
she had scarce strength left to beg the Assis-
tance my heart yearned to give her, and
which our prophet commands all Mussul-
men to bestow on misery like her's. She had
my aspers, and I grieved I had not more to
Bestow. The money, said Morat to Zaccho*.
which you exchange^^br the dates, will in a
few hours be converted into the most odious
of substances, mere excrements : but Esreff,
said he, turning to the other, besides the
pleasure you must enjoy, whenever you
leflect on what you have done, know that your
well bestowed aspers will produce a never
108 ON CHARITY.
fading fruit, and contribute to your happiness,
both in this world and the world to come : and
moreover know, that the infant whose life you
have saved, and who, without your assistance
must, with its mother, have perished, will,
(so heaven has decreed it) live to repay your
goodnese, by saving your life many years
hence, and rescuing you from the most immi-
nent of dangers.
THE KKD.
UCLA LIBRARY