Читать книгу Stories from Switzerland - César Malan - Страница 6

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“Mamma,” said Henry, “may I go and play with William, this afternoon?”

Mamma. Why do you wish to go to play with William rather than with Thomas, who lives so much nearer?

Henry. I like very well to play with Thomas; but if you please I had rather go to see William.

M. I wonder at that, for Thomas has a great many more playthings than William; I know he has a very nice paint box, and you are very fond of painting pictures.

H. Yes; poor William has hardly any playthings, except a few old ones that I have given him.

M. Then how do you amuse yourselves?

H. Oh! he is so very clever, he is always making me laugh and trying to please me; and then he can keep a secret; he never tells any body what I say.

M. Pray what good is there in that? Do you say things that are wrong, and such as you would be ashamed of, if other persons knew them?

H. No, I don’t mean that; but it is so nice to have a secret.

M. Then, I suppose, if you say any thing that is silly or foolish, William never tells you it is wrong?

H. Oh, he can say foolish things as well as I; and then he tells me so many funny stories; there’s Puss in Boots, and I don’t know how many more, and there’s his story about Old Uncle Natty.

M. What! do you mean his Uncle Nathaniel?

H. Yes, mamma; William one day asked him for three-pence to buy a pound of cherries, but he would only give him a penny, and William always calls him—

M. Stop, Henry; I am afraid William is a naughty boy, and I do not wish to hear such a story as that.

H. But, mamma, may we not laugh sometimes?

M. Certainly but not at such silly or wicked things:—in what other manner do you and William amuse yourselves?

H. In a great many ways; sometimes we draw, or we play in the garden.

M. Pray which of you draws the best?

H. William draws houses better than I do, but I can draw horses and trees the best, and I often draw landscapes and men on horseback for him.

M. And which of you can run fastest?

H. I can.

M. Is not William sometimes out of humour because you do these things better than he can?

H. O no; the other day he told me I drew so prettily, that he had rather see me draw for a quarter of an hour than draw for a whole day by himself.

M. What becomes of these pretty drawings?

H. He pins them against the wall in his bed-room.

M. Why do you not ask William to come home, sometimes? As you are such great friends I should think he would be glad to come to see you.

H. Why, mamma, William says he does not feel so comfortable here; he is always afraid of you.

M. How so?

H. Why, mamma, you are so wise, that he is afraid to say just whatever comes into his head.

M. But Thomas always seems very happy when he is here.

H. Oh, he is so wise, we call him the Judge: we have always called him so since the day we went to see farmer Martin.

M. But why do you call him so?

H. You know, mamma, that we must cross the long meadow to go to farmer Martin’s. To save the trouble of going all the way round to the gate, William said we had better scramble through the hedge and make a short cut across the grass. Thomas looked as grave as a judge, and told us that the hedge was made on purpose that people should not scramble through it, and that it was not right to trample down the grass. William said, that we should not do much harm, and that many others had often done so before us. Thomas asked him if we were to do wrong because others did the same? William directly jumped over the hedge and ran across the meadow crying out, “Who cares for cowards; not I, for one.”

M. Did you follow William?

H. No; Thomas would not let me; he made me go round by the gate, and along the path with him.

M. And what did William say, when you arrived at the farm?

H. Why, he had tumbled into a ditch which the long grass had prevented him from seeing; the cow-boy pulled him out and was washing him at the pump.

M. Did Thomas tell William he had done wrong?

H. Not at first; but when the cow-boy was gone, he said, “William you had better have gone along the path as we did.”

M. Is this the reason why you call him the Judge?

H. Yes, mamma, but you ought to have heard with what a grave tone he spoke—just like a judge on the bench.

M. Ought not serious things to be said in a grave manner?

H. Yes; but he makes such grave speeches.

M. Do you recollect one of these grave speeches?

H. Oh, yes, I can easily do that. The other day I was going to tell him something his sister had said; it was nothing very particular, but somehow I hoped it would have made him angry with her. All at once Thomas stopped me, and said, “A whisperer separateth chief friends;” and if you had but seen how grave he looked.

M. Open the Bible and you will find this grave speech as you call it, in the 17th chapter of Proverbs. My dear Henry, it was not Thomas but the word of God that stopped you.

H. Indeed, mamma, I did not know it was in the Bible. But Thomas is always so grave; he looks as if he meant to tell you every thing I say or do. As we came home from farmer Martin’s I got up behind a carriage, and the coachman did not find me out for a long while; but when Thomas overtook me, he said such a deal about its being wrong to get up behind a carriage without leave.

M. What did he say?

H. Oh, I hardly recollect all: he said it was unjust, for I did it without asking leave. I am sure you will say that it is nonsense to call such a trifle as that unjust.

M. I am quite of Thomas’s opinion; what would you have thought, if a person had put two or three sacks of corn behind the carriage?

H. That would have tired the horses and made them go slower, and the people would not have arrived so soon at their journey’s end.

M. Then to do so would have been unjust, would it not?

H. I understand what you mean, mamma; though I am not so heavy as a sack of corn, yet I see I was wrong.

M. Well, then, you also see that Thomas was right; but what said William?

H. He whispered to me, “Never mind him; you had a nice ride.”

M. Was that right?

H. No, I see it was wrong.

M. Well, my dear boy, as you understand what I mean, I will tell you something more. Do not forget what I am going to say, for it is in the Bible. “A man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for his feet,” (Prov. xxix. 5.); and “Every man is a friend to him that giveth gifts.” (Prov. xix. 6.) Now, tell me the truth: should you be so fond of William if he contradicted you, or would not do just as you wished him?

H. Perhaps not. Yesterday I was angry with him because he would not take a walk with me.

M. Has he ever told you that you are too fond of play, that you like to be idle, that you are greedy for every thing nice, and that you sometimes fly into a passion? I rather think that he never told you so.

H. But, mamma, am I so naughty?

M. What do you think? Remember, God sees and hears you.

H. Why, I am not always quite so good as I should be; but one cannot help being naughty sometimes.

M. And is it right to be naughty?

H. Oh, no, quite wrong; it is much better to be good.

M. Then are those right or wrong who see your naughty tricks, I mean your faults; or, as they really are, your sins; and do not tell you of them?

H. Certainly it is right to tell me of them; but then, mamma, it is so unpleasant to have Thomas always finding fault with me. He never is with me for a quarter of an hour without blaming me for something.

M. Do you recollect the day we went to Sir Edward Walton’s? When the carriage came to fetch us, and it was time to get ready, you ran and asked me for your best clothes.

H. Yes; for I should have been quite ashamed if I had gone to play with Sir Edward’s children in my old jacket and trowsers.

M. Suppose, just as you were getting into the carriage, Thomas had pulled you back, and told you there was a great spot of dirt upon your frill, should you have been angry with him?

H. Certainly not; I should have thanked him, and should have gone directly and put on a clean shirt.

M. Then your wish to be neat would have made you willing to listen to his advice! Ah, my Henry, tell me, is not there one who is much greater than Sir Edward, and before whom we must one day appear?

H. You mean, mamma, that we must appear before God.

M. Yes, that is what I mean, and I speak seriously. But are not we always in his presence? Whenever we pray to him, whether at home, or in the House of God, we present ourselves before him. And above all, when our life in this world is ended, shall we not have to appear before the judgment seat of Christ?

H. Yes, mamma, the Bible tells us so.

M. And do you think that he who is so holy will be pleased to see things which are so wrong in your conduct; for instance, anger, idleness, disobedience, greediness, or other wicked ways?

H. No; for the bible tells us that God “is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity.”

M. Well then if a person warns you of these faults is he your friend or your enemy?

H. Oh, I understand you now, mamma; he is really my best friend.

M. But what is he who will hide these faults and prevent you from seeing them, or even persuade you that they are beauties: what ought you to think of him?

H. Why, he would be unkind, just as if he had let me go to Sir Edward’s with a dirty frill or a hole in my coat.

M. Henry are you aware that every sin is rebellion against God, against our Lord and Saviour; and therefore is very wrong?

H. Yes, I recollect it now; but I did not think of it before as I ought to have done.

M. Well, then, be thankful to those who tell you of these things, and love you so as to tell you of them, when they see that you have forgotten them.

H. Then, mamma, do you think that William does not love me, because he does not tell me when I do wrong?

M. My dear boy, I fear that William flatters you, and that he will do you much harm; and I think that Thomas is a Real Friend, because he fears God, and faithfully warns you when you are wrong.

H. But ought I to like Thomas better than William?

M. The Bible tells us, “He that rebuketh a man afterwards shall find more favour than he that flattereth with the tongue,” (Prov. xxviii. 23.); and I am sure, if you wish to obey God you will believe his word.

H. Yes, mamma, I do wish to obey God, because I know that is the only way to be happy.

M. Well; now, Henry, I will let you choose; you may go where you like best.

H. Then, mamma, I will go to Thomas, and ask him to come and see me.

M. I also wish you to see William and tell him how wrong he has been, and how unkind he is to you. Do this openly and with truth, and shew him that you do not wish him to be a flatterer but a Real Friend.