Chapter II: Part 2

"The father and mother of Nicholas had, nevertheless, sent him to inquire after the health of his uncle: he was a fine little boy, with the colour of the carnation upon his cheeks, and with a brave open countenance.

"The old man surveyed him from head to foot. 'What, Nicholas,' cried he, 'is it you? How are your father and mother? I am ill, Nicholas, very ill.'

"Nicholas asked if he could do any thing for his uncle? Alvarus began to reflect, 'I might as well,' said he to himself, 'have no wealth, if I am to suffer illness without help or relief, and I shall perhaps die for want of medical assistance; yet who can I trust to seek for this money?' He looked again at Nicholas; he saw honesty in his face--'This boy,' said he, 'knows nothing of the world. I think that I need not be afraid to trust him. Nicholas, my dear Nicholas,' said he, 'I wish that you would seek for an old bag, which you will find in some corner or other; it is heavy, but what is in it is not of _much use_ to any body, and you must not look into it upon any account.' Nicholas answered in a very artless manner, that he would not look into it for the world, if his uncle forbid it. 'Well then,' said Alvarus, 'go and look all about, and in every corner, as I have occasion for it.'

"Nicholas, who was a very clever and persevering lad, searched place after place, until at length, in a dark hole under the sink, he found the bag, and carried it immediately to his uncle. Alvarus was quite delighted, when he saw the bag unopened--'That is a good boy,' said he; 'now then go for the doctor, and tell him to come to me, for that I am very sick indeed.'

"Nicholas ran all the way for the doctor, and when he returned, it was but reasonable to expect that old Alvarus would have given him a trifle of money; he however contented himself with giving him only thanks; and Nicholas was going home when the doctor entered.

"The doctor felt the miser's pulse, and found him in a very bad way-- 'I am afraid it is too late,' said he, 'I should have been sent for before.' He moreover told Nicholas that his uncle could not be left. Nicholas therefore promised to return, as soon as he had made his father and mother acquainted with the situation he had left him in; but the miser absolutely forbid him to bring them with him.

"Alvarus grew worse; the doctor gave him medicines, but in vain; when he thought it proper to tell him, that there were no hopes of his recovery, and advised him to settle his affairs without delay.

"Alvarus was very much affected at this news--'What,' said he, 'have I been laying up hoard upon hoard only to leave it behind me? what enjoyment have I had? what delight has this world afforded me? I have been poor in the midst of riches, and have starved in abundance. I might have been happy myself, and I might have made others happy; I have neglected the opportunity; and before I have tasted refreshment, I expire on my journey.'

"The doctor asked the old miser again about his affairs--'If I die,' said he, 'I leave what little I have to this boy, my nephew Nicholas.' The doctor took his leave, and Alvarus addressed his nephew as follows:--'Nicholas,' said he, 'take care of this bag for me; I shall fall asleep presently, for I feel heavy; there is not any thing worth having in it; _it is full of rubbish_; nevertheless, some people would be base enough to wish to take it from me.'

"Alvarus went into a sleep, from which he never awoke again--Nicholas called to him--he did not answer. Nicholas run for his father and mother--they arrived, but the miser was no more. Nicholas told them the story of the bag, which they opened, and found full of guineas. The doctor confirmed the story of Nicholas, and that the property was his right. The father and mother of Nicholas shed tears at the death of Alvarus; nevertheless they said, 'How good and wonderful is Providence! It appeared only by chance that our son should happen to go on that day to inquire after his uncle, who had then mislaid his treasure. Providence has put it in its proper channel. Let us bury Alvarus with respect, and mourn not so much that he is dead, as that when living, he had never enjoyed life.'

"Nicholas succeeded to the wealth of his uncle, which was improved by the industry and care of his parents; and from being a poor lad, Nicholas is now an opulent farmer."

"That old miser was a very foolish old man," said William, as soon as Mr. Willock had concluded the story. "Certainly he was," answered Mr. Willock; "he might have made himself very comfortable, and yet have laid by sufficient to keep him far from the dangers of want in his old age; and that shows, my dear children, the difference between prudence or economy, and avarice:--prudence allows all reasonable enjoyments, but no extravagance or waste; and as the articles of plain wholesome food, refreshing drink, and neat decent cloathing, do not require any great sacrifice of money, and are proper for us, and as good management makes us as frugal as possible, we cannot be much the poorer for those reasonable indulgences; and all beyond, it is wise and necessary to lay by; out of which, we ought, nevertheless, to spare a portion, such as we can afford; to the distrest. It is then that our prudent hours are blest by Providence, and the motive approved by the same Almighty who has taught the ant to provide for winter; and indeed old age, my dear children, may properly be called the winter of life.

"We will now," said Mr. Willock, "consider the nature of the _Desire_ by which men wish to obtain any thing unfairly, or what is called coveting our neighbours' goods.--There is not any _Desire_ that can be more base or wicked than this, and it leads to the greatest crimes; if ever you feel it in your bosoms, which I trust you never will, check it, my dear children, as being base, mean, unfair, unjust, and beneath your natures; and be assured, that it is a _Desire_ which in the end will never have success, as it is contrary to the commands of God, and below the honour and dignity of the human character. Your dear mamma can relate to you a very pretty story of the ill-success of such a _desire_, as well as of the folly of being too good-natured." Mrs. Willock, finding the eyes of all her little family immediately turned towards her, began as follows:

_The Story of the Two Merchants and the Black Pebble._

"In the city of Peristan, which is a province of Cashmeer, in Hindostan, lived a merchant, named Baizeed; he was a very good young man, but was so generous and prodigal of his money, and so very good-natured, that any body might get it from him; and the patrimony he had received from his father was almost spent. As Baizeed was walking one day through the streets of Peristan, he met an old man, with a small bag in his hand, who accosted him, and asked if he would choose to buy any pearls or precious stones? Baizeed had the curiosity or _desire_ to look at them; and the old merchant seated himself under the portico of a house, where he displayed his goods. Baizeed looked at them one by one; but his attention was chiefly taken up with a small black pebble, which had on it some marks of gold, resembling in form the rays of the sun. Baizeed inquired particularly about this stone, which the merchant told him was of considerable value, though it only appeared as a common black pebble; that it was a talisman, invented by the magician Mahoud; and that in all cases of extremity or danger, it would give the owner the most faithful counsel of the good genii. Baizeed, on this, laid the pebble down, giving up all thoughts of purchasing it, as he supposed its price to be infinitely out of his reach. "I do not wish to inhance the value of the pebble," said the old man; "I only ask fifty gold mohurs for it." Baizeed assured him that he could not afford to give him half that money for it, and was going away, when the old diamond merchant stopt him--"Well," said he to Baizeed, "as you have taken such a mighty fancy to the pebble, you shall be welcome to have it on credit, and pay me when you may be able." Baizeed on this thanked the old man as politely as he could, and accepted the stone from his hands, when the old merchant explained to him some characters which were on it, in the Hindoo language, and formed the following sentence--'_The rays of wisdom._'

"Baizeed, on his return home, shewed the pebble to his wife Aseecha, and was very eager to invite all his friends to shew them also the purchase he had been so lucky as to make, and invited them to a feast for that purpose. When Baizeed's friends were met together, one examined it carefully, another liked its curious appearance, and a third wished him to make an immediate experiment of its virtues. Baizeed was not long waiting an opportunity. One of his neighbours being engaged in a lawsuit, was very anxious to know what he should do in the affair, and intreated him to try the effect of the magic pebble.

"Baizeed took a small flint in his hand, and, upon striking it against the stone, at the first blow, the liquid fire came forth from it, and running upon the ground, immediately formed the sentence of '_Truth_.'

"The counsel which the talisman gave was attended to by the neighbour of Baizeed, and by following which, he got well through his difficulty.

"Numerous were the applications Baizeed received from different persons to lend them the black pebble; and all his friends were so kind, and appeared so grateful, that he could not find it in his heart to refuse them; but what was the most extraordinary was, that although Baizeed was thoroughly sensible of the virtues of the pebble, he scarcely ever made use of it himself, but it was always at the service of others, without any return or recompence.

"In about three or four years after Baizeed had come into possession of the pebble, what with neglecting his own affairs, and attending to the frequent solicitations of others about theirs, Baizeed began to find himself very much reduced in circumstances; and in addition to this folly of attempting to oblige every body, he was naturally of a gay and cheerful disposition, and was constantly giving entertainments, for the sake of having the society of his friends.

"Among others who had the free use of the talisman, was a neighbour of Baizeed's, named Daoud, who had always been welcome to his house, and who he had done every thing to serve; in short, Daoud had as much use of the pebble as himself; he had it upon every occasion he wished, and always smiled so graciously, and professed so much friendship to Baizeed, that it was impossible to refuse him.

"Baizeed's wife Aseecha loved her husband very much, and frequently entreated him to be more careful of the valuable treasure he had, and to turn the magic pebble to advantage; but unhappily he neglected her counsel; and at length, what with the waste of time, and seeing company to show off the talisman, his situation became desperate; when he thought it best to call on his friend Daoud, to explain to him his circumstances, and to consult what was best to be done, as he was afraid his creditors would take the pebble from him. Daoud begged him not to despond, and assured him that he would take care of the talisman, if he was afraid of any mischief happening to him. Baizeed put the stone in his hands, requiring him, in the most solemn manner, to make use of it for his wife and family; offering him, at the same time, a reasonable share of that valuable treasure for his trouble.

"Daoud promised to do according to the wishes of Baizeed, who retired to a small village near the fountain of Shookroach, whose waters bestow peace, leaving Daoud in possession of the talisman.

"Baizeed waited many days patiently, in hopes of seeing his friend Daoud with a supply of money, for his wife Aseecha was very distressed, and his children had had nothing to live upon but a small bag of rice and a few dried fishes, which were almost gone. Daoud, however, never came near Baizeed; and presently he was informed that he had got into his house, and had made himself acquainted with all his friends and creditors, and that he was turning the talisman to his own advantage solely. Baizeed began now to blame his folly, for having intrusted the only valuable he had left to so sordid a wretch.

"Baizeed went to Daoud, to complain of his ill treatment; but that wicked wretch insisted he owed him more money than the pebble was worth; and Baizeed was too poor to get redress.

"At length, when Baizeed had given himself up to despair, and was sitting at his door in a pensive attitude, he saw the old diamond merchant who sold him the pebble approach. Baizeed was quite distressed what he should say to him; but thought, very properly, that the truth was the best; he therefore told him the whole story of his imprudence; 'Well,' cried the old man, 'you have suffered sufficiently for your good-nature; though you have lost the talisman by your folly, the good [A]Bramah will not punish you too severely. Come with me, and we will go disguised as two [B]Calenders to the house of Daoud.'

[A] The Eastern name for God.

[B] Wandering Mahometan monks.

"Baizeed prepared to follow the old man; and at length having procured the dresses of Calenders, they set out on their journey, and arrived at the house of Daoud, as he was seated at the head of his table, feasting with the great men of Peristan. The Calenders, according to the custom in the East, were invited to take refreshment; and Baizeed seated himself at the lower end of the table of his perfidious friend.

"After dinner, Daoud began to speak of the virtues of the talisman; and the Viceroy of the Sultan Shahabeddeen, who was present, was desirous that he should display its wonders before him. Daoud called for the pebble, and struck it with the flint; but the liquid flame did not issue from it; he tried again and again; but it was all in vain. The Viceroy, who considered that Daoud had imposed upon him, was highly incensed; and ordered his black eunuchs, who were in waiting, to inflict the punishment of the bowstring.--It was in vain that he supplicated; the Viceroy commanded that he should die, unless he could, within ten minutes, produce the sentence of truth from the talisman. Daoud attempted once more, but all was fruitless, when the old man took up the pebble, and striking it with the flint, the flame immediately issued, and formed a sentence on the ground--'_I am useless to the wicked._'

"On this, the Viceroy, who was the more enraged, demanded to know of Daoud the history of the talisman, and how he came by it? That wicked wretch, however, told a lie to excuse himself.

"The Viceroy was so dissatisfied with the answers of Daoud, that he demanded of the old Calender that he should obtain again the sentence of truth: The old man obeyed, when the talisman produced the words--'_The saying of Daoud is not true; I belong to Baizeed._'

Baizeed, at the desire of the old man, now threw off the dress of the Calender, and confronted the wicked Daoud, who being unable to say a word in his defence, was instantly strangled by the eunuchs.

"The Viceroy ordered the pebble to be restored to Baizeed, who returned home, transported with joy at having found his precious talisman.

"As soon as Baizeed entered the door of his house, he endeavoured to obtain the sentence of wisdom from the magic pebble; but it only produced the words--'_I am useless to the imprudent_.'

"Baizeed was again in anguish and despair, when the old man entered, and told him that the virtue of the talisman would not return to it again until he had, by hard labour, rubbed the pebble so bright, that the rays which had disappeared should again become visible. Baizeed bore this disappointment very patiently, and returned home to his wife Aseecha, when he set to work every day rubbing the pebble, but no rays appeared. At length, after a little time, he began just to see a glimpse of them, and by persevering, they were once more restored. Baizeed now summoned his friends to a feast, at which they appeared again very readily; but when they required the counsel of the talisman, Baizeed demanded from them a recompence for the benefit they would receive; in consequence of which, he got several large sums of money; and having found the old man, offered to pay him the fifty gold mohurs, when the old merchant said, 'I am richly repaid by your being sensible of the value of the pebble. My son, the mighty Bramah is well pleased when he observes in his children an ingenuous heart, and kind disposition; but dangerous even is the love of our fellow creatures, if we are weak enough to yield to the sweet voice of deceit. Baizeed was tried with the magic pebble, and he squandered away its blessings. The wicked Daoud, whose imagination was at work to obtain the goods of Baizeed, was made the instrument for punishing thy weakness; but he was to become an example also, that vice never prospers. The magic pebble lost its power in his hands, and the object of his covetousness was the cause of his death.'

"As the old man spoke, Baizeed observed that rays of celestial flame surrounded his head, and that his garment was changed into a robe of the purest white. The place was filled with the fragrance of myrrh, aloes, sandal-wood, the jessamine flower and the rose.

"Baizeed fell prostrate on his face; it was the good genius Zemrud, who had appeared as the old merchant. 'Blessed,' said he, 'are the good, and powerful are those who trust in Bramah.' With these words the genius disappeared, and Baizeed returned home to his faithful Aseecha, satisfied of the goodness of Providence, and resolved never again to forfeit the blessings of the talisman."

"The _desire_ of being great, or what is called ambition, is laudable, as long as the means resorted to to satisfy it are just and fair, and it is then a blessing; but becomes a curse, the instant we have recourse to base or improper means.--But," said Mr. Willock, "let us see what is the next picture. What have we here?"

"It is a very pleasant face," said John.--"It is," said Mr. Willock,

JOY with TRANQUILLITY.

"You will observe here, that very little alteration is remarked in the face of those who feel within themselves the sweetness of _Joy_. The forehead is serene; the eyebrows without motion, elevated in the middle; the eye pretty open, and with a laughing air; the eyeball lively and shining; the corners of the mouth turn up a little; the complexion lively; the cheeks and lips red.

"_Joy_ is a delightful sensation, and gives health to the body as well as to the mind; when we feel joyful, with what alacrity, what spirit, do we move and act! It is _Joy_ that you taste of, when the time arrives for you to return home from school, to see your friends in vacation. When _Joy_ is felt, the mind is occupied with every thing that is pleasant; all care is for the time obliterated from your recollection; you jump, and dance, and sing, and spring about like young fawns, from place to place. But this is not _Joy with Tranquillity_, like that in the picture. _Joy with Tranquillity_ is more lasting, and is less violent. I will attempt to describe the passion to you by an example.

_The Story of Matthieu and Gerrard, the two Fishermen, who each found a treasure._

"Two fishermen, named Matthieu and Gerrard, who lived in a small village near the Mediterranean, and who had each of them large families, and were very poor, were out one day drawing their nets, when one of them, Gerrard, called out to the other, that he had drawn ashore a small casket, which was extremely heavy; and he begged the other to assist him to force it open, when he found it full of precious stones, carefully inclosed in cotton. The fisherman who had found the treasure, very fairly and justly told the other that he should go shares; and overjoyed, ran home directly to his wife, to tell her the good news. The other fisherman, who was older and more careful, staid to put his nets in order before he followed, and was very kindly doing the same office for his friend, when he discovered another casket among the meshes of the net, which his comrade had overlooked, full of the like treasure, and which he put in his pocket.

"When the old fisherman returned to the village, which was no great way from the sea-shore, he found the house of his comrade surrounded by people. In short, poor Gerrard's rapture had occasioned him to tell every creature he met of his good fortune, and they had followed him in a mass. One gave him a piece of advice; another put in a claim for favour; a third offered to get him a market for the diamonds of a friend. In short, he was almost torn to pieces by the officious kindness of his neighbours; and in his perplexity, he sold his treasure for less than half its value, to an old Jew, who, on hearing the news, had hastened all the way from Marseilles to the spot, to make a good bargain.

"The old fisherman said nothing about his luck until night, when he was at supper with his wife; and she being a prudent woman, though she felt a great deal of joy that her dear children would be better cloathed and fed, yet it was _Joy with Tranquillity_. They neither of them suffered their good success to run away with their reason. It was therefore determined between themselves, that Matthieu should go the next day to Marseilles, where dwelt a respectable Armenian merchant, and get a fair price from him for the precious stones he had had the luck to find.

"The next day, the old fisherman set out on his journey, without saying a word to any body, and returned home laden with louis d'ors, in addition to the small sum which was the moiety of what the other fisherman had honestly shared with him.

"In a very few months it happened, that the younger fisherman, Gerrard, owing to his excess of joy, which made him insensible of what he was about, and the folly of his young wife, who spent a great deal in dress, while he was giving, lending, and throwing away his money, was reduced at length to poverty, and had nothing left to do but to take to business again.

"He was lamenting one morning not having sufficient to purchase nets, and was mending the old ones to go out a fishing, when his neighbour Matthieu came to the gate. 'I thought,' cried he, 'that you had left off fishing, and that you lived upon the interest of the money you got for your pearls and diamonds; or, perhaps, you are going out for pleasure.'--'Alas,' cried Gerrard, 'it is not so; I have given away and spent all that I had.'--'Well, but,' said he, 'those you have done service to will never let you want a little money to purchase nets; they have had plenty from you.'--'I have but little hopes of them,' answered Gerrard.--'Well,' said the old fisherman, 'at any rate, give them the trial; invite all these your neighbours and friends to a feast, and after they have regaled themselves, I will open the whole business of your necessities, and ask them to subscribe to put you into business again.' Gerrard followed the advice of his neighbour, and a feast was prepared, at which every one took care to be present. After dinner was over, the old fisherman opened the business, and asked each of them to subscribe a something; but they had all of them an excuse ready. 'Well,' cried he, 'in that case, I must do all by myself,' when he pulled out two large bags full of louis d'ors, which he opened before them, and placed one of them before Gerrard. 'Now, sirs,' said Matthieu, turning to the guests, 'we will not trouble you any further; _we shall not want your assistance to count them out this time_.'

"The guests departed one after another, not a little chagrined at this unexpected turn; and Matthieu explained to Gerrard that the money was his right; that he had kept it for him, that it might not fall into such bad hands as his former treasure. All now was joy, but it was _Joy with Tranquillity_; and Gerrard, delighted with the wisdom, as well as with the honesty of his friend, begged him to keep it for him, and that he would draw for what he might have occasion.

"Matthieu and Gerrard continued neighbours and friends; their little fortunes increased; and at length their children intermarried, to the satisfaction of the old people, who, undisturbed by any excess of passion, felt only _Joy with tranquillity_."

"Oh dear! what a funny face!" cried Henry, as Mr. Willock turned over the leaf.

"It is, my dear," said he, "the face of

LAUGHTER.

"Laughter is produced by joy mixed with surprise, the eyebrows rise towards the middle of the eye, and bend down towards the side of the nose. The eyes are almost shut, and sometimes appear wet, or shed tears, which make no alteration in the face. The mouth, half open, shews the teeth; the corners of the mouth drawn back, cause a wrinkle in the cheeks, which appear so swelled as in some measure to hide the eyes; the nostrils are open, and all the face is of a red colour. Laughter is at all times ungraceful, therefore you will observe, that vulgar people are most addicted to it: well-bred persons manage this passion better; they seldom do any thing more than smile. Yet at times, it will happen that something we meet with is so truly ridiculous or comical, that we cannot by any means help laughing. There are, however, some persons who are so much of idiots, that they will laugh at the most trifling thing in the world; of this description were

_The Family of the Gobblegruels._

"Lord Gobblegruel, who was very rich, had arrived at that title purely by having done some service to the government as a contractor. His lordship had but very few ideas beyond a common sum in arithmetic. My lady Gobblegruel was just as ignorant, only much more proud and affected, though, to tell the honest truth, she was originally his lordship's father's cook.

"There was a numerous family of them. There was his lordship, the right honourable lady Gobblegruel, the honourable Master Thomas Gobblegruel, and the honourable Miss Boadicea Gobblegruel.

You will wonder, my dear children, that there should be such characters as these among persons of rank; and the truth is, that, generally speaking, in this country, persons of rank are persons of education, of good sense, and of elegant and refined manners; yet here and there, up starts a peer without politeness, and a baron without brains.

"To proceed then--the honourable master Gobblegruel was what some coarse people would have called a _natural_; at any rate, he most certainly was a _natural curiosity_. Master Gobblegruel's whole pleasure and employment was driving pigs: and to be sure, no salesman in Smithfield market understood pigs better; he could tell you whether a pig with a curly tail was better than a pig who had not a curly tail, or than one that had no tail at all; but what was a more excellent accomplishment in our little master was, that he could squeak as naturally as that animal; and which species of entertainment being according to the taste of the family, he was often called upon by the right honourable lady Gobblegruel to perform for the amusement of the right honourable lord Gobblegruel in the drawing room. (Henry could scarcely refrain from laughing).

"Master Gobblegruel was not only one of the greatest idiots, but also one of the greatest gluttons in the world; he was formed very much like a pig himself--I mean one that was well fattened; for he was nearly as thick as he was long; his cheeks were so plump and round, that they almost hid his eyes, which were very small; but master Gobblegruel had another extraordinary accomplishment--he could perform Punch to the life, which he used to do in the housekeeper's room, to great audiences of the servants, and with prodigious applause. It was really very amusing to see the son of a nobleman with a short stick in his hand, knocking, as he pretended, his wife Joan on the head, squeaking _toote_, _toote_, _toote_, and nodding and winking exactly like his famed original.--(Henry could not resist _Laughter_ any longer).

"The honourable master Gobblegruel was so ungraceful at table, that he disgusted every body; you might see him take up the bone of a fowl, which he would gnaw and suck with so much avidity, that the grease would run down the sides of his mouth, into which he would also constantly put his knife instead of his fork; and when he drank, you might see the greater part of his face through the glass.

"One day in particular, master Gobblegruel made a more than commonly ridiculous figure; he had got the end of a drumstick of a fowl in his mouth, which upon being reminded by some person present was vulgar, he transfixed immediately between his teeth, sitting bolt upright, and grinning like his honourable father's pug-dog, to the infinite amusement of all the servants. The young gentleman would not however part with the bone. (Henry burst into a fit of _Laughter_.)

"I must now," said Mr. Willock, "for the benefit of the young ladies, describe the honourable Miss Boadicea Gobblegruel, who in shape and figure was the counterpart of her honourable brother.

"Miss Boadicea never looked at any thing; she always stared; she was excessively vulgar, and was ignorant, in spite of education. She was, too, always laughing; and when she did laugh, she might be heard from the drawing-room into the kitchen; nor was there half a note difference between the laugh of Miss Boadicea and the laugh of the cook-maid. Miss Boadicea was nearly as coarse in her manners as her brother, but much more ill-natured and satirical. Master Gobblegruel would not offend any body, unless they spoke against pigs; and Boadicea had a constant antipathy to merit in distress, or meanness in apparel; and though she sometimes deigned to assist, it was always done with the features of pity proceeding from contempt: but let us have done with this disagreeable monster; I see, my dear Caroline, that you already despise her. Another laughing character calls our attention.--I will describe him in the following story.

_The History of Charles Banter._

"Charles was the son of a gentleman of very moderate circumstances, who had, however, found means to send him to Eton College, where he distinguished himself very early, not only by being the best scholar of his age, but one of the best-natured boys. When Charles was _fag_, he went through that service without a murmur; he was always as merry as a grig. If his schoolfellows beat him, he only laughed all the time; in short, Charles was what they called a fine fellow: but he had a very great fault, and that was an inclination to entertain himself continually with that disagreeable amusement of schoolboys, called _quizzing_; he used to quiz the master, quiz the mistress, quiz the inhabitants, and quiz the strangers. Charles, therefore, though he was admired as a clever boy, was not loved, and indeed had many enemies; for there are very few people who like to be laughed at. Charles Banter's propensity was often attended with disagreeable consequences, and was a grand obstacle to his success in life. Charles was at home one vacation, when a distant relation, who happened to wear a wig, was on a visit to his father.--The old gentleman took particular notice of Charles; and having no children of his own, had left him a very handsome fortune. Charles ought, you will say, to have had a little prudence, but he could not resist the propensity to quiz. The wig was the object of his amusement; and he contrived one day, before the old gentleman put it on, to slip into his room, and pepper and salt all the curls; so that when he came down to dinner, he set the whole party at table sneezing. At length the joke was discovered; and as nobody was present on whom the slightest suspicion of such an indecency could fall, except Charles, the question was put to him, and the colour in his face pleaded guilty; in short, he confessed the joke; for Charles, to speak fairly of him, disdained to tell a lie. His father, who was not a very sensible man, was indiscreet enough to join in the laugh, and to take no farther notice of the affair. It was not so with the old gentleman; he never visited the same table afterwards, and to his will added the following codicil:--'To master Charles Banter, for the seasoning of my wig, _five shillings_.'

"You will see by this event, my dear children, that it is your interest as well as duty, to pay respect to age; for old people can serve you by their experience, even if they have not money to leave you; you may fly to them for advice, and the attention you pay them is _never lost_. But there is a still worse character, and that is him who enjoys mischief, and who takes a pleasure in cruelty; he laughs too, but his laugh is the smile of malice. Such a wicked character was Tom Worry, who was the son of a gentleman, and who had begun very early to make war against the poor harmless animals and insects who came unfortunately in his way. To torment and to destroy was his whole delight; and a poor innocent cat was the particular object of his cruelty; and, what is very extraordinary, it was to the having hunted one of these poor animals into a cellar, that he owed all the _scratches_ he afterwards received from ill-fortune; for while he was amusing himself in this way, he was joined by a _vulgar_ boy ten times more wicked than himself, and who exulted with him in the distress of poor puss: this boy ingratiated himself into his favour, prevailed upon him to run away from his friends, led him into a great many very serious scrapes, and was at length his utter ruin.--Surely, my dear children, we need only to reflect for a moment on the nature of the pain we inflict, to turn from wanton cruelty: how should we like to be hunted into a corner, by creatures stronger than ourselves, and pelted by them with stones and dirt? we should think it very hard usage. If any ill accident assails, how altered are our features, how wretched, how distressed do we appear, what agony do our features express at the pain of a broken or dislocated limb! Let us see if Le Brun has described this sensation--yes, here it is.

ACUTE PAIN.

"See how the eyebrows approach each other, and rise towards the middle; the eyeball is hid under the eyebrow; the nostrils rise, and make a wrinkle in the cheeks; the mouth half opens, and draws back; all the parts of the face are agitated, in proportion to the violence of the pain.

"I think, my dear children, that I can tell you a story, which will, in its incidents, comprise several of the situations and passions which follow, in this book of Le Brun. I had it from a French lady, and it is called

_The Mother and her little Family._

"A scholar of the University of Basle, named Henry D'Orange, and who was the only son of the rich Marquis D'Orange, was riding one day towards a small town, when, as he approached, he observed a great number of people gathered together, at the end of a narrow street. The scholar rode up to them, to inquire into the cause of the tumult, when one of the persons, an honest shopkeeper, who happened to be standing on the step of his door, made answer, 'Ah, sir, a poor unhappy woman is the cause of all this disturbance.'--'How so?' said the scholar.--'You don't know, sir,' returned the honest merchant, 'how well this good creature deserves the pity of the poor people who are her neighbours, and who would willingly go to the greatest extremities to relieve her, did she not herself forbid it, and entreat them not to interfere with the course of justice.'--'I cannot yet comprehend you,' answered the young scholar; 'what has happened to her?'--'Many misfortunes, sir, one after another.--She is a widow; she has six children; she lost her husband after he had been confined a year to his bed. I think, sir, that I see him now; his eyebrows drawn together; the eye as if fixed on some object; the nostrils raised, making a wrinkle in his worn cheeks; the mouth half opened and drawn back; and every part agitated in proportion to what he suffered.'

"Behold," cried Mr. Willock, "the picture.

SIMPLE BODILY PAIN.

"But to go on with the story--'So, sir,' continued the merchant, 'the poor young man died; and in about two months after that event, his widow was delivered of her sixth child. These misfortunes were on the heels of each other; and the expences of interring her husband swallowed up the whole of her little money. Her landlord, a man of a hard heart, and cruel disposition, would not give her time to pay a twelvemonth's rent, which was in arrear. It is only fifteen days since he told her, with the most savage cruelty, that if she did not pay the money in a few days, that he would seize her furniture, and turn her into the street. He has kept his word; to-day the huissiers or bailiffs have surrounded the house of this poor woman, and have taken every thing, even to the cradle of the poor innocent at her breast. The neighbours having found out what was going on, assembled together immediately, and would probably have soon put an end to the power of these harpies of justice, if this good creature had not entreated them to desist. Ah, sir,' continued he, 'this is but a poor place; we are all distressed here, or she should not want assistance.' The young stranger listened to the narrative with great attention, and begged him to proceed. 'You may judge, sir, how much this amiable woman is beloved, and she deserves it all. In her better days, she never heard of distress without endeavouring to relieve it; if any one of her neighbours was sick, she was always their nurse; and she attended to these duties without neglecting her aged father, who is still alive, though near an hundred years of age, or forsaking the attention due to her little ones. During the lifetime of her husband, who was a dealer in stuffs from Marseilles, all that she could save beyond what she thought superfluous to their situation, she used to bestow in charity upon her poor neighbours.'

"Henry, who was so much affected that the tears ran from his eyes, now dismounted, and in an animated tone desired the shopkeeper to show him the way to the dwelling of the poor woman. 'Conduct me,' said he, 'to the house of this respectable widow, who deserves a palace instead of a prison, and who ought to find a protector in every friend of humanity.' Such was the noble appearance of Henry, and the generous expression of his countenance, that the crowd instantly made way for him to pass through to the dwelling of the widow.

"Henry presently arrived at the habitation of misery, and which had been but a little time before the abode of conjugal felicity. He was struck with astonishment at the scene which presented itself; he found the interesting female, of whom he had heard so much, surrounded by her little ones, who were crying, while she was endeavouring to console and comfort them with every mark of tenderness and affection, regardless of her own distress.

"Let us see, my dear children, if we can find the picture of this good mother. It is--it is the face of

SADNESS.

"See her full of anxiety and sorrow, yet calm and resigned to the will of Heaven. Notice the dejection; the eyebrows rise towards the middle of the forehead more than towards the cheeks; the eyeball appears full of perturbation; the white of the eye is turned yellow; the eyelids are drawn down, and a little swelled; all about the eye is livid; the nostrils are drawn downwards; the mouth is half open, and the corners are drawn down; the head carelessly leaning on one of the shoulders; the face is of a lead colour; the lips pale.

"Who," my dear children, "can view this amiable countenance, without feeling interested for the object, a mother, and in sorrow--a mother in want--a mother in despair.

"The poor dear woman seems to be without the most distant prospect of relief; without the most remote chance of meeting with a friend; without means of extricating herself and her little ones from ruin; yet she ought not to despair, for _Providence, when none appears, can find itself a way_.

"There were two of those unhappy beings in the world, whose profits and enjoyments arise out of the distresses of their fellow-creatures--two huissiers, as they are called in France, or what we call sheriff's officers; yet these people, my dear children, are necessary in the community, to preserve property, and to cause us to act with justice to each other; and when their unpleasant office is performed with decency and mildness, they do not deserve disapprobation. It happened, however, that the two officers who were in the poor widow's room were of that description who debase the very nature of man, by rapacity and cruelty, and who, hardened by constant scenes of misery, commit every possible outrage on the distressed and friendless.

"See them busily employed, taking an inventory of the little effects of the poor widow, with an unfeeling composure, that disgraced even their profession. Here is the portrait of one of them, full of officious consequence and contempt for poverty. To the applications which are made to him by the poor widow for lenity, his hard inflexible features present only the face of

SCORN;

and here are its lively and strong features. The forehead wrinkled; the eyebrows knit; the side of it next the nose drawn down, and the other side rising very much; the eye is very open, and the eyeball is in the middle; the nostrils rise and draw towards the eyes, and make wrinkles in the cheeks; the mouth shuts, its sides sinking down, and the under lip is pushed out beyond the upper one. With what detestation do we view such a face as this!

"The scholar, mute with astonishment and terror, was some time before he addressed these harpies. He gazed first at the widow, whose interesting countenance engaged his attention, then at the children about her, and then on the officers--'How much, sir,' cried he to one of them who was writing at a table, 'does the debt amount to?'--'I should like to know what business it is of yours,' answered the bailiff, in a surly tone, still continuing to write, without deigning even to look at the person who addressed him. 'You are mighty curious,' continued he; 'what business is it of yours how much the woman owes? I suppose that you wont pay the money for her, will you?'

"The scholar's attention was now taken off by a heavy sigh, which he found proceeded from the breast of an aged man, who was seated in an old elbow chair by the fireside. It was the poor widow's father, mourning for her sorrows, and grieving for her distress; for as far as respected himself, he had but little care. He was near eighty years of age. Here is the countenance of the poor old man; it is the face of

WEEPING.

"The alterations that _Weeping_ causes are very strongly marked. The eyebrows sink down towards the middle of the forehead; the eyes are almost closed, wet and drawn down towards the cheeks; the nostrils swelled; the muscles and veins of the forehead appear; the mouth is shut, and the sides of it are drawn down, making wrinkles in the cheeks; the under lip, pushed out, presses the upper one; the face is wrinkled and contracted; its colour is red, especially about the eyebrows, the eyes, the nose, and the cheeks.

"Is it not a pity, my dear children, that the latter years of a good old man like this should be disturbed with grief--that an old man should weep? The young scholar thought so too, for he sighed at this scene of accumulated distress; but his attention was soon awakened to another object. One of the officers (for they were determined to seize every thing in the room) took a little sleeping infant from its cradle, and laid it rudely on the floor, snatching away at the same time the clothes on which it had been laid.

"Henry was rouzed with indignation at this brutal conduct, and stood in need of all his moderation to prevent his instantly giving the wretch the chastisement he deserved; but he restrained his passion, and contented himself with throwing his purse on the table, demanding again, in a lofty tone, the amount of the debt? The sight of the gold produced an instantaneous effect on the mind of the principal of the officers, and which discovered itself as promptly in his face; he replied in a more civil tone, that ten louis was the amount of the sum demanded for the rent and expences. Henry ordered him immediately to prepare a receipt, which he did.

"When the money was paid, our young noble scholar exultingly _lifted the little infant from the floor, and replaced it in the cradle_.

"Henry stood a minute over the child, which smiled as if conscious of its protector's presence. Henry surveyed its features as it lay. Let us seek for his countenance at the time. Are not these, my dear children, his features? is not this the delightful countenance, the beauteous face of

COMPASSION?

"The lively attention to the misfortunes of another, which is called _Compassion_, causes the eyebrows to sink towards the middle of the forehead; the eyeball to be fixed upon the object; the sides of the nostrils next the nose, to be a little elevated, making wrinkles in the cheeks; the mouth to be open; the upper lip to be lifted up, and thrust forward; the muscles, and all the parts of the face sinking down, and turning towards the object which cause the passion.

"Yes, this is indeed the portrait of the scholar looking at the infant in the cradle. What an assemblage of the noblest sentiments of the human mind produce _Compassion_--love, tenderness and care for the object--self is for the time totally forgotten. How different, my dear children, is this face from that of the surly bailiff!

"The officers now took their leave, with each a servile bow, when the poor widow, overcome by the kindness and generosity of the young scholar, fell upon her knees, and invited her little children to do the like, that they might thank God for having sent an angel to their succour; while the old man, who was sitting by the fireside, lifted up his hands in a silent prayer to Heaven, and wept for joy.

"The young scholar embraced the mother and all her little ones, among whom he generously distributed the remainder of the louis in his purse, and then took his leave, promising to see them again very soon.

"Henry mounted his horse amidst the acclamations of the people, who had surrounded the house, and had heard of the way in which he had employed his time. _Dieu vous benira_, 'God will bless you,' was reiterated from every mouth.

"The young scholar kept his promise, for he often visited the cottage of the poor widow, and represented her amiableness and situation in such lively colours to the marchioness his mother, that she took the whole family under her protection, placed them in a little way of business, and helped them until by their own industry they had made themselves independent.

"This, my dear children, was true generosity. The object was worthy: the donor had the means to make happy; none were injured by the gift; no just claims were left unpaid, and a poor family were made happy.

"This narrative will show you also, my dear children, the power and goodness of the Almighty, who, by his Providence, ordered it so, that what appeared to the poor widow as her greatest misfortune should turn out to be the very means of affording her and her children a future provision, and that much more ample than she could have expected. Thus, my dear children, '_Providence, when none appears, can find itself a way._'"

Mr. Willock had no sooner finished his story, than he had the pleasure to observe his young people occupied in very serious reflections on what they had heard. "My dear children," said he, "I am very much pleased for the attention you have paid, and for the interest you have taken in the misfortunes of the good widow. I shall leave you to enjoy the thoughts of her good fortune, and of the change produced in her affairs by the generosity of the young scholar. To-morrow evening, I will tell you a story of another kind, where I shall have to represent to you some of the worst of the passions of the human mind, such as you will hate and detest, when you see their ugliness and deformity."

The next evening Mr. Willock resumed his office of lecturer, and was fully attended by the young family.

"I am now," said he, "going to tell you a story, in which the passions of horror, terror or fright, anger, hatred or jealousy, and despair, will be represented; it is called

_The Wicked Baron, and Nicholas the Honest Wood-cutter._

"In the South part of the forest of Dean, in Gloucestershire, there lived, many years ago, a poor wood-cutter, named Nicholas; he was not more than thirty years of age, of a handsome figure, lusty, and strong. Nicholas was rough and sturdy as an oak, but bent as tenderly to the tale of distress as the gourd to the wind; he was apt, it is true, to be a little ill-tempered at times, and somewhat sour; besides being a little rude and unfashioned in his manners; but somehow or other, so finely delineated were the characters of nature and truth in his mind, that the outlines might be seen in his face, whenever distress or misfortune claimed his protection.

"Nicholas had a wife named Gertrude, and she was naturally a good woman, though she would fret and scold whenever they happened to be poor, which was no uncommon case with them: they had nothing but hard labour to trust to for support, and had a young boy to provide for; besides, it unfortunately happened for both of them, that Gertrude was the daughter of a once-wealthy farmer, but who had been ruined by a murrain among his cattle. Gertrude had therefore received a little better education than Nicholas, who could, however, read and write, a great wonder in those days, and which he owed, when a boy, to the kind instructions of a good old monk. Gertrude, who recollected her father's happy board, was rather out of temper with her situation, and so foolish, as to be constantly wishing for riches, and pining after wealth, which was never likely to come to her share.

"It happened one night, after Nicholas had returned home from work, and finding Gertrude cross, that something like the following conversation took place between them; but, my dear children, you must avoid this manner of speaking, which is only used among poor country people.