"I shall do no such thing," answered Miss Jane, "you may get him as you can, though I do not know how you will manage to do that either; for Mary has taken such a fancy to the little fellow, that she will not give him up easily."

"Would you tell me if Reuben is content?" asked Marten, "for if so I would rather leave him with Miss Mary."

"Just pop your head inside that door," said the rude girl, "and judge for yourself, that is, if you dare to do so--for your brother is there, and Mary and a dozen more girls. Do you dare?" she inquired mockingly, "come let me see you do it, then."

"Dare," repeated Marten indignantly, "and why should I not dare--I want my brother."

"Do it then," said Jane, "if you are not a coward, which I strongly suspect you are;" and when was a spirited boy of thirteen so urged on that had the prudence to know where to stop with propriety to himself.

Marten, choking with rage, did advance to the door pointed out, and put his head inside, and there, on beholding a group of young ladies of all ages, from eight to fourteen, and no little brother, and finding all eyes turned upon himself as an impertinent intruder, he drew his head back quickly, and was met with a loud laugh from Jane, which so annoyed him, that without stopping to think, he ran off to his own room as fast as he could. The voice of Mary Roscoe however reached him as he ran along the gallery, uttering these words: "I'll take care of Reuben, Master Marten--I'll take care of Reuben, he is very happy." And so Marten allowed himself to be content, and as he knew dinner would shortly be ready, he lost no more time, but set to dress himself in his best as quickly as he could. Mr. and Mrs. Jameson did not dine with the young people, but Mrs. Jameson came in and walked round the table, and spoke to most of the young ladies and gentlemen, and asked after their papas and mammas, and she said she hoped they would be good children and enjoy themselves very much, and in the evening she and Mr. Jameson would come in to see them at play. She told Jane Roscoe she expected her and Mary to take care of the young ladies and see that they had everything they wanted, and she said much the same to her son and William Roscoe about the boys.

There was a very long dining table laid out, and, as might be expected, all the boys got together at the end where Edward sat, and all the girls got round Jane Roscoe, for it must be remembered that hostilities had begun in the morning between the boys and girls, and Jane was not the kind of girl to make peace, or desire to make peace and conduct herself as would be becoming a young lady. Frank Farleigh, indeed, crossed the barrier, and once again demanded his cap from his sister, but he pleaded in vain, and I do not know how the matter would have been settled if good-natured Mary Roscoe had not proposed that it should be considered as a forfeit, and that the cap should be cried with the other forfeits in the evening games. "And I promise you it shall be hardly won," cried Jane, and Frank's sister then whispered to her as if they were settling what Frank was to do for it, and then Jane laughed--her teasing laugh--and if Frank did give his sister a most cruel schoolboy pinch, I can't but say she had only herself and her rude companion to thank for it. "I don't care," he said, as he joined the boys, "I can wear that old cap of Edward's, and when I go home they _must_ give it back to me."

During this time Marten was looking about for Reuben, and soon he saw that the little fellow was seated by Mary Roscoe, as happy as possible, for Mary was a kind-hearted girl, and loved every thing and every body, and every body loved her, and now she was taking care that the child was helped before herself, and with what he liked, and when she met Marten's eye, she kissed Reuben very earnestly, and called him a sweet darling and her own pet, and she asked the little one if he did not love Mary.

Reuben returned the kiss and looked so smilingly up at Marten, that his brother could not but be contented, and having thanked Mary most heartily for her very great kindness, he was only too glad to get away once more to where the boys were seated. Poor Marten was not aware, and I do not exactly see how he should have been aware, that the easy kindness of Mary Roscoe was but too likely now to bring his brother into trouble, for Mary did not like to refuse the little fellow any thing; and as the child was hungry and more than ready for the meal, for it was past his usual dinner hour, I am obliged to confess he ate greedily of the good things set before him, one after another without moderation or discernment, pudding following meat, and cheese after pudding, and fruit after that, till quant.i.ty and diversity were so mingled together, that it was a wonder the babe endured himself as well as he did. He was, however, so satisfied and even cloyed, that towards the end of the time he contented himself with a taste of this and that, and under the easy rule of Miss Mary, the remnants of his desert were transferred to his pockets, to serve to regale him at some future moment. I have said that Marten could not have been aware of this foolish weakness of Mary Roscoe, but Marten was not free of blame in the affair, for he had started wrongly as regarded Reuben, and in his self conceit he had placed himself in circ.u.mstances where the temptations that surrounded him were more than his nature unaided could resist. Marten would not listen to those who would have taught him that our blessed Saviour verily took not on him the nature of angels, but he took on him the seed of Abraham, wherefore in all things it behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to G.o.d, to make reconciliation for the sins of the people, for in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour those that are tempted. Heb. ii. 16, 17, 18. But we shall soon see from Marten's story a verification of the words of St. Paul addressed to the children of G.o.d. "Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall. There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man; but G.o.d is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will, with the temptation, also make a way to escape that ye may be able to bear it." 1 Cor. x. 12, 13.

And now,--to return to Reuben, he had ate and ate so much, that I am almost ashamed even to think of it; and silly Mary Roscoe, who should have put a bridle on his little mouth, never once thought of doing so, and how should she, for she had never had one on her own? till the poor child felt so uncomfortable that he was half ready to cry--for, added to the over quant.i.ty he had contrived to swallow, he was very weary, for he was but a young one, and he had been out in the air all the morning and undergoing more active exercise than even he was accustomed to go through, for he had moved about at the direction of others, and not by his own voluntary will. So feeling uneasy, he was just about to raise a cry, which I believe would have recalled Marten to a sense of his duty, when the whole troop of children rose from table to amuse themselves as best they liked till six o'clock, when tea was to be served in a large room for them, and the evening was to be finished in games of whatever description they chose, Mr. and Mrs. Jameson having promised to be present.

Marten just stopped to see Mary Roscoe lead off his brother, who accompanied her very contentedly, and then I am obliged to own he thought no more of the little fellow for such a length of time, that we who take an interest in poor little Reuben must banish Marten from our thoughts and follow the child, the poor little victim of his brother's self conceit. The young ladies on leaving the dining room ascended the stairs and went to the room with which Marten had so daringly put his head in the morning, and here they divided into groups of two or three, as chance might be, and a chattering began, the like of which could never be heard again, unless under the like circ.u.mstances. It seems a cruel thing to try to put down any of the nonsense, and perhaps worse than nonsense, that was then and there talked; and I would not do so if I did not hope it would prove a warning to some girls that persons do listen to their conversation sometimes when they fancy no one hears, and that those same persons do think them very silly and ignorant, and occasionally wrong. And first, I will take a party of three girls, who all went to the same school, and these three, I am sorry to say, were talking of their governess and teachers in a way they ought never to have done. It was not Mrs. Meredith and Miss Williams, and Miss Smith, but it was "Meredith, that cross old thing," and "pretty little Smith,"

and that "detestable Williams." And then one asked the other if she remembered how funnily f.a.n.n.y Adams had managed in the affair, of laughing at the French Master, how six of them had been sent up to their bedrooms in disgrace, and when that detestable Williams came in and found them still laughing, how she scolded them all, and how f.a.n.n.y Adams put some Eau-de-Cologne to her eyes, which nearly blinded her, and made her eyes water very much, and so deceived Miss Williams that she pardoned her, though all the rest were left in disgrace.

And here, because there was no better disposed person to speak to these poor girls upon their light and improper discourse, I would just say one word:--My dear school boys and school girls, our Saviour says, "Love thy neighbour as thyself." Let me then ask you, do you in any way follow this kind command when you so treat your teachers and governors? Think you, for an instant, of the labour, the anxiety, the perpetual self-denial, the patience required by an instructor of childhood, even when the children do their best; but when deceit, hypocrisy, and hardness of heart is also added to the giddiness and thoughtlessness of youth, what must be the teacher's suffering?

Remember that our Lord himself was subject to his parents. Luke ii. 57.

Though what could they, poor human creatures, have taught him? Then follow, as a loving child should do, his holy example, and remember his precept, of "love thy neighbour as thyself," and inquire of yourself how would I like to be treated as I treat my governess or tutor?

But perhaps you would wish to listen to another couple of girls, who soon drew a larger party round them, and what folly were they about, you would ask? Why, one child, who was very vain about her figure, must needs get a piece of string, or tape, and begin to measure her companion's wrist, thumb, neck, waist, and height, saying--"Twice round the thumb, once round the wrist, twice round the wrist, once round the neck, twice round the neck, once round the waist, and twice round the waist, once the height." As Louisa Manners well knew of old that this measurement suited herself, she was always disposed to try any young girl by her rule, knowing well her own turn would come, and that she would be able to appear with satisfaction to herself; and here again I would say, was our Lord's precept followed, of love thy neighbour as thyself? did Louisa desire a rival? This couple, as I said, soon drew a party round them, and after the measurement, which lasted some time and led to a discussion of dress, most of the frocks and sashes coming in for notice, one of the three school girls, mentioned at first, named some new step in dancing, just introduced at her school the last dancing day, and then such a practising and trying of this step commenced amongst the young ladies as made a pretty sight to look on, the young ladies being all nicely dressed, and for the nonce thinking more of their occupation than of themselves.

In the meanwhile Reuben had been supplied with something that served the purpose of a plaything by Mary Roscoe, and being seated in a corner of the room away from harm or interference, the little fellow shortly became so drowsy, that before long, notwithstanding the noise and chattering about him, his head drooped on his bosom, and he was so sound asleep that he was unconscious of his uncomfortable position. He had slept full a quarter of an hour when he was discovered by one of the elder girls, who proposed that they should lift him from his seat and take him to a bed in an adjoining chamber, where he would be more comfortable. And here I must again remark, for want of some one else to do so, that of the twelve or fourteen girls there a.s.sembled, there was not one present who would have been unkind to the little fellow intentionally; but yet I am afraid, that with the exception of the good-natured Mary Roscoe, there was hardly one who would have put themselves out of the way on his account, or have given up a pleasure or amus.e.m.e.nt of even five or ten minutes to comfort the boy, who ought in truth never to have been amongst them, so little had he been accustomed to the ways of other children, even of his own age.

Reuben slept on, and that so soundly, that when tea was ready he was not awake, and he would probably have been wholly forgotten if the young ladies on their way down stairs had not made so much noise by the door of his room, that startled and alarmed, he began to cry violently, and his good friend Mary could not easily appease him. However, the child was really refreshed from his sleep, and the kind girl having washed his face and hands herself, and smoothed his pretty curling hair, led him down with her to the room where the tea was served, and provided him with all he wanted, and withal with such a large lump of sugar, the like of which he had never perhaps, not even in his dreams, possessed before.

Whoever has read of Mrs. Indulgence in "The Infant's Progress" may have some idea of Mary's management of Reuben, but if the little one could have spoken or reasoned on the point, how heartily would he have said that he pined for his own dear mamma's judicious kindness and controul, under which he used to sport all day happy and joyful as a b.u.t.terfly on a bright summer's morning.

After tea, which did not last very long, the tables were cleared away and the plays began--the elder children, as might be expected, taking the lead, and for awhile all was order and propriety. Fortunately for the young ones they had no lights near them from which they could be in danger, for the lamp hung from the ceiling and the fire was allowed to go out in the grate. The tables, as I said before, were moved away, and the seats were piled one above another so that a good s.p.a.ce was left in the room for the games, and only two chairs were kept for Mr. and Mrs.

Jameson, who had sent word to say they were coming down to see the sport, and as they were very fond of a dance, they expressed a wish that the evening's amus.e.m.e.nt should begin in that way.

The boys were somewhat annoyed at this, as they wanted more active games, and Frank Farleigh absolutely proposed to change the dance to leap-frog; however, as Mrs. Jameson wished for dancing, no one was bold enough openly to speak against it, and Miss Farleigh and Jane Roscoe, who were intimate friends, played a duet together very nicely, to which the rest danced.

And now it was that Mary Roscoe first felt the annoyance she had incurred by her kindness to Reuben, for the child did not wish to leave her, and seeing all were dancing, or jumping to the music as he thought, he believed he could do the same, and clinging to her she found that to appease him she must take him for her partner, and thus this really good-natured girl was unable to dance with any pleasure to herself, as the little one was unable to make his way alone. However, Mary was truly kind-hearted, and not one cloud was on her fair brow when the dance was finished, and she told her little partner to sit down amidst the piled up chairs at one end of the room. But as nurse had said Reuben was a weary little fellow, and Mary little knew the truth, if she thought she was so easily to get rid of him, for the child was half alarmed at the numbers of strange faces thronging around him; he was not well, too, with the many sweet things and fruits he had eaten, and now it was approaching his usual bed-time, and though he had had a sleep, yet he had been roused from it suddenly and improperly, fed with sweet cake since, and any experienced person present might know that shortly the child would get so excited in the scene before him, it would be no easy matter to soothe or calm him.

Now it happened that Marten, feeling exceedingly obliged to Mary for her kindness to his brother, and equally disliking her sister, and Miss Farleigh and some of the other young ladies, was very anxious to dance with Mary, to thank her for her kindness to Reuben, but he little thought that by doing so, the child finding both his friends together must insist upon being with them, and the second set of quadrilles was danced by poor Mary as the first had been, the little fellow clinging to her, for both Marten and Mary were afraid of a burst of tears if they opposed the child in this matter. Marten, however, spoke somewhat sharply to him, saying he was teasing Miss Mary, and if they allowed him to dance this time, he must promise to sit still afterwards, and not be troublesome again. Reuben knew that he must obey his brother, so when that dance was finished he went and sat himself down, as directed, though his young heart was very sad, as he longed to be jumping about with the other children. Mary was now able to enjoy herself, and I do not hesitate to say she was very glad to get rid of Reuben and be at liberty to run about where she would, for she was a happy girl, and this evening she was the happiest of the happy, for she was a favourite of all.

After the dancing had continued some time, a game was fixed upon, which game being one that kept the children seated, they soon got tired of it, and blindman's buff was proposed and entered into with great spirit, though, as will presently be seen, this spirit, for want of some less indulgent to controul it, became at last almost unbearable.

It was whilst Edward Jameson was blindfolded that the first rudeness began, for Miss Jane seized hold of a newspaper and began rustling it so about Edward's head, that being blindfolded he became so annoyed by it, that he began to toss his arms about, making such rushes. .h.i.ther and thither, that the girls had to run away, lest they should be struck.

Whilst Jane was teasing Edward, one of the boys seized hold of the handkerchief that blindfolded him, and another boy made a thrust at him in front, and it was only a wonder that Mr. and Mrs. Jameson, who were sitting by, did not speak to the children, to advise a little more quietness in the play. But there were a party of young girls whispering together behind Jane, and when Edward turned in her direction, though she escaped, he fell amongst these girls, and, as might be expected, such a romping scene ensued, as may often be seen at blindman's buff.

Just at this moment a servant came in to say a gentleman had called on some business, and both Mr. and Mrs. Jameson left the room together, to see this gentleman. They were scarcely gone before the noise increased to such an extent, that one or two of the servants came to the parlour door; and well was it, as we shall shew presently, that they did so, but Mr. and Mrs. Jameson being gone to another part of the house, were not disturbed by the sounds. So, as I said, Edward found himself amongst the group of young girls, who all struggled to get away from him; and then such a scene of running and screaming, and shouting and romping followed, as the like of which I have no desire to see. Every one ran, and no one knew whither they were going, and it so chanced that some ran in the direction of where Reuben had been seated by Marten, amidst the piled-up chairs. The child, who had been sitting there sometime, and who did not understand the game, for he had never seen it before, was doubtful whether to be frightened or not; but as Edward, whom he knew so well, and who was always kind to him, was the pursuer, and as the children were laughing, he thought he might laugh too, and not liking sitting still when all were running and jumping round him, he slid down from his high seat and joined the group that had fled to that end of the room from Edward. As ill luck would have it, Edward turned in that direction somewhat suddenly, and there was a loud cry of one and all to run, and instantly all did run, Reuben too obeying the call, and setting off as fast as his little legs would let him.

As might have been expected, the elder children escaped, and Edward caught the boy, whom he instantly named, and tearing off the handkerchief from his eyes, he was going to tie it round those of Reuben, when Marten interposed, and said "he would not understand the game." Edward was, however, tired of being blinded and of being buffetted about, and not thinking how very young Reuben was, for he knew very little about children, as he had no little brothers nor sisters of his own, he only said he had caught the child, and that it was but fair he should be blinded, as he was caught and had absolutely prevented him from catching one of the others when they were close to him. As Reuben himself thought it was manly to be blinded, and believed all he had to do was to run about with the handkerchief round his head, he was very anxious to do as Edward had done, and Mary, to whom he pleaded for permission so to do, blinded him herself, and as she tied the handkerchief round him she said, "Now, young gentlemen, don't hurt the little fellow, pray be gentle with him, for he's very young."

Mary then took his hand, and leading him into the centre of the room she slightly directed him where to go. It must be understood that Reuben knew no one in the room but Marten, Edward, and Mary, and as he did not know the rules of the game, the elder boys and girls, soon wearied of the little fellow running hither and thither, for they did not wish to hurt the child, and so they ceased for awhile their boisterous play; but, as might be expected, this would not last long, and Marten stepping forwards on the little one laying hold of some boy near him, said, "My brother does not know any one here by name, is it not enough that he has caught some one? He does not know, I am sure, who his hand is upon, even if he were unblinded."

"Oh! it is a boy," replied Reuben. "Me know it is a boy, and a large boy. Yes, it is a large boy."

"That is enough, is it not?" asked Marten, looking round, "surely that's enough;" and he unbound Reuben, telling; the child he had done very well.

No one seemed inclined to dispute the point, for all saw the child was too young to play with them; and William Stewart, the boy caught, and who was desirous of being blindfolded, was quite pleased to have the handkerchief tied round his head, and now the play became more boisterous than ever, owing to the cessation before, and probably all would have gone on well if little Reuben, elated by his brother's telling him he had done very well, had not chosen to join in the play, saying over and over again to any one who would listen to him, "Me knew it was a boy--a large boy--me knew it was a boy--me said a large boy--yes, me felt his coat--me knew it was a large boy." This too might have pa.s.sed, and the child might have repeated his story over and over again without much harm if he could have got a listener, or he even might have been content without one, if he had not fancied he understood the game as well as the oldest present, so he entered into it with all his little spirit, and intruded his small person where others could not go--now here, now there, till excited and heated and confused by those around him flying in all directions, he was thrown down, and as he did not fall alone, the poor little fellow was rather severely hurt. And now in that one moment of downfall was a.s.sembled all the troubles of the day,--weary, excited, hurt, and overfed, he began to cry, and that so violently, that those who lifted him up trusted to his being not really injured by the very noise he made in his distress. Marten and Mary ran to him, but they were as strangers to him, for his eyes were dimmed by tears, and his ears closed by his own wailings; and luckily for all three one of the servants, for, as I said before, they had come to see the young people at play, and who was a motherly kind of woman, advanced into the room and offered to take the charge of the child and comfort him before she put him to bed. Marten was most thankful for this offer, and you may be sure Mary was not sorry to part with the sobbing boy, and thus Marten put it out of his own power to keep his voluntary boast to Nurse at home about sleeping with his brother, for when the riotous evening closed, for it was a very riotous evening, Reuben had been asleep some hours, and in a quarter of the house appropriated to the use of the young ladies where beds were as plentiful as requisite on an occasion like the present. Marten then had nothing for it but to beg Mary to see after his brother, which the young lady as thoughtlessly promised to do, and then he accompanied his young companions to that department of the house appropriated to the use of the boys, where, as might be expected after a little more rude sport, he fell into a sleep so profound and long, that every thought of Reuben was banished from his mind. And now, to return to the poor baby, the victim of mismanagement, or of his brother's self-conceit. Sobbing and roaring he was carried or dragged up stairs, undressed, and put to bed, where the extreme violence of his grief proved its own relief, for he fell asleep with the tear in his eye, and long long after the cause of sorrow was forgotten, his sobs might be heard proclaiming that the effect even now had not pa.s.sed away.

By and bye, however, the calm of sleep restored him more to himself again, and before the motherly woman who had taken pity on him left the chamber, he was sleeping the refreshing sleep of childhood.

As the young people had gone to bed so late the evening before, for it was quite twelve o'clock, and the next day was also to be a day of indulgence, it was nearly half-past eight before Marten awoke, and what with one thing and another it was quite nine before he had an opportunity of asking any one after Reuben, or indeed of discovering that no one knew anything of the little one farther than that he had awoke at his usual hour, seven o'clock; that the kind woman who had attended him the night before had helped to wash and dress him, and having told him to be quiet, lest he should awake the children asleep in his bed room, she left him as she thought safe in the young ladies'

sitting room, to amuse himself as best he might. Two hours nearly had pa.s.sed since then, and no further information could be obtained of the little boy; but he was gone, that was certain for he was nowhere to be found in any part of Mr. Jameson's large house. It so happened that breakfast had commenced, and Marten and some of the bigger boys had nearly finished the meal before all the young ladies came down, and as Mary Roscoe chanced to be late, for this good natured girl had been helping others as usual, Marten did not discover the absence of his brother till she entered the room and seated herself at the table. Then he stepped round to her and asked if Reuben would soon be down. "Oh!

dear little fellow," exclaimed Mary, starting up, "He did not sleep in my room, so I know nothing about him; but now I will run to find him to bring him to breakfast. I dare say he has overslept himself, or I should have heard of him before now."

"If you are speaking of the little boy who cried so bitterly at blindman's buff, Mary," said a Miss Lomax, "he was put to sleep in a little bed by himself in our room. Maria and myself noticed how soundly he slept through all the noise we made when we went to our rooms, but when we got up this morning the little fellow was gone, and we wondered who had drest him and taken him away so quietly as not to disturb us."

"Oh! then I'll find him in a minute," said Mary, "if he has been drest so long he must be sadly in want of his breakfast, poor little darling,"

and Mary was half way up stairs before she had finished her speech.

And now how shall I describe what a fearful state the whole house was in before ten minutes more had pa.s.sed away: the child was lost, the fearful question of where and how he might be found was on everybody's lips.

Poor Marten, it was dreadful to see his terror and grief, and Mary, oh!

how negligent Mary felt herself, for had she not a.s.sisted greatly to his loss by taking him from his brother, and had she not promised that brother the evening before to see him in his bed and look after him, which she had forgotten to do. Jenkins, too, the motherly female who had so kindly attended the little one the night before, how did she blame herself for not taking the child with her after she had dressed him, when she was obliged to go to her work, which was much increased that morning by the state in which the young people had left the room, the scene of the last night's revels.

And here I would make a remark, which I must beg no one to reject, without well weighing the idea. The most amiable females of the party a.s.sembled at Mrs. Jameson's, Mary Roscoe and Jenkins, who had put themselves most out of their way, and had really acted the kindest by the child, were those who felt the most in the affair, and most blamed themselves for their own conduct, whereas if all had tried their best, as they did, the little fellow would have ever had some kind heart beside him to soothe and comfort him, and some one might have antic.i.p.ated his uneasiness at finding himself alone amongst strangers.

Anyhow they would not have been as strangers to him, for he afterwards acknowledged, on being questioned, that had Miss Mary been sleeping in the room, he should not have done as he did. But now to my remark, those who strive to do best have the most tender consciences, and the more one strives after right the more scrupulous and tender does the conscience become, and the more does it aspire after n.o.ble feelings and honourable thoughts and actions. This is a work of the Divine Spirit and of no mortal power, and it is a training for glory, purifying our hearts for a divine home, obtained for us through our Saviour's death and righteousness, and in familiar language we will liken it after this manner. Supposing two children stand side by side in the open street, one is the child of a king, nicely drest and delicately clean, as would be expected from his n.o.ble birth and expectation, the other is the little hedge-side vagrant, to whose young face water or cleansing has probably been unknown. Imagine, then, ought pa.s.sing these two children, which could pollute their persons, what would be their feelings? the one might even laugh at the filth or mud that bespattered him, the other would shrink with loathing or disgust, and would not be easy or comfortable till every effort was taken to remove the stain. And we are children of the King of kings, we are washed and clothed by Him, and the more our garments are fitted for our future station, the fairer are our inward persons; the more do we feel annoyed and grieved by any foul spot, which could sully their purity and disfigure their beauty. My young readers remember this, and smile no more at sin; aye, and shun carefully its stains that would pollute you, and when they do alight upon you, remember whose blood alone it is can purge away their slightest trace.

Poor Mary had no breakfast that morning, nor no comfort nor rest either, for after searching for the child all over the house, she must needs look for him in the gardens, the pleasure grounds, the lawn, behind each tree and shrub, and even in the stables and offices, but no Reuben was to be met with, and the dear little girl, when wearied out with searching sat down to weep and lament herself, starting up occasionally when some fresh place came to her mind, and running to it, but to meet with disappointment and increased alarm. But Mary was not alone in the search, for both Mr. and Mrs. Jameson were full of anxiety respecting the child, and trusty men were sent in all directions to look after the lost one; and when Mr. Jameson spoke to his lady on the imprudence of having invited so young a child, she replied, that having given permission to their son to ask a certain number of young people, she had not attended to him when he named the bidden guests, taking it for granted that a boy of thirteen would prefer companions of his own size to a child of Reuben's tender age. And now it came out from Edward how Marten had refused to come without his brother, and that Mr. and Mrs.

Mortimer were from home, and this, as might be expected, added not a little to the distress of Mr. and Mrs. Jameson, for hitherto they had thought the child had visited them with the permission of his parents, and now that they heard that those parents were at Portsmouth, they were more and more uneasy, and they blamed themselves not a little for having been so indulgent in their direction to Edward. "But, indeed," said Mrs.

Jameson, "one could not have foreseen these circ.u.mstances, and when I saw little Reuben seated by Mary at the dinner table, though I wondered at his presence, yet he seemed so happy I believed all was right with him." But the lesson was not lost upon Mr. and Mrs. Jameson, nor on Edward, and I am happy to say, in future the latter was more ready to ask advice of his parents than before this affair, for he too was very uneasy about Reuben. As to Marten, without thinking of his hat, on learning that the child could not be found in the house nor in the pleasure grounds, he told one of the men who was sent with him by Mr.

Jameson, that he should go home as fast as he could to see if his brother might not have made his way there, or at least be met with upon the road. The distance from one house to the other was, as I said before, four miles, and though poor Marten had little expectation that the tender child could find his way so far, even if he knew the right road, yet he understood the little one so well, that he felt convinced he would at least attempt to get to his home, so that he considered it useless to look for him in any other direction. And now we must leave the unhappy and alarmed brother to speak of little Reuben, who was left, as we mentioned, by Jenkins in the sitting-room with a few toys near him. Never had Reuben been so left to himself before, but still for a short time, though it was for a very short time he was content, then came a wish for his breakfast, and with it the remembrance that if his mamma had been with him he would even then be in her dressing-room. She would be listening to his prattle, or he would be occupied in doing something for her which he considered was useful, but which in reality she could herself have done with half the time that she was obliged to give to her baby boy. The thoughts of his mamma made the forlorn one cry, and call upon her name, but no one heard his sobs or saw his tears, and with it came a recollection of the sorrows of yesterday, and he suddenly thought "Where is Marten? Where can Marten be? Is he gone? Has he left Reuben?" The idea was not to be borne by the poor child in a state of quietness, he rose from his seat, dropped his toys from his lap, and without looking back he went to the door, which being ajar he opened wider and pa.s.sed through into the gallery. His friends, he believed, had left him; they were at home. His mamma, too, he thought, might be there with his papa and Marten, and, anyhow, he was sure Nurse was there, Nurse who loved him so, and whom he loved so dearly. So down the stairs stepped the sorrowing baby, holding the banisters with both small hands, for it was necessary for him in descending the steps to have both feet at one time on each, and noiselessly almost did he proceed, for his fairy tread made no sound, and his sobs were tried to be suppressed, in the earnest determination to attempt to find his way to his home. And now he reached the last step, and lightly did he run across the hall to the great door, which was open, and with some difficulty, for there were more steps; he arrived at the carriage drive between the house and lawn, whereon he had seen the lamb the day before.

And now would I could picture the little one, as he stood in his short red frock, blown by the breeze which showed his dimpled knee, for his white sock did not extend much above his shoe. His arms, neck, and head were without covering, and his pretty curls played around his face in graceful confusion. Calling on his mamma and upon Marten, he took the carriage drive towards the gates, so far not having a doubt he was in the direction of his home, and unseen by any one, he pa.s.sed through a small gate into the high road. Here he might have been puzzled which way to take, if it had not been for a clump of eight elm trees on the left hand road, and he had often heard John and Marten talk of those elm trees, for they were called the "Nine Elms," and yet Marten had said there were only eight now, and whenever he had gone to Mr. Jameson's with his papa and mamma, and John who drove them, John had kept the carriage waiting under the elms, and he used to put Reuben out of the carriage amidst the trees, to run in and out amongst them, touching one after the other, whilst John taught him to count them, saying one, two, three, four, and so on. So Reuben knew he must pa.s.s the elm trees, and as he was just awake, and the morning fresh and pleasant, his small feet carried him along some way nicely, and even swiftly, and for a few minutes, they were not many, all seemed promising, and the inexperienced one believed he should soon be at his home. After the clump of trees, the baby so confidently considered he was in the right way, that when he came to a place where two roads joined the one up which he had ran, he never looked about him, fancying they must both go to his home, and not yet being weary, he took, as might be feared, the wrong turn, and soon he heard distinctly the roaring of a cascade, much famed in those parts, as it dashed over the rocks in the direction in which he was going Now Reuben knew the sound of the cascade, for he had lived near it all his young life, and he knew it was not far from his home; but he did not consider that he never pa.s.sed it on his way from his father's house to Mr. Jameson's, but still, not mistrusting the road he was going, he ran along till he suddenly found by a turn of the lane, that he was in full front of the stream. The child however was not disconcerted by this, and the fresh air meeting him, and for the moment raising his spirits, he stepped on over the loose stones brought down at different times by the waters, boldly, and even gaily, though his course was impeded by the unevenness of the way. He must have stepped on some distance, when all of a sudden he was unable to proceed farther along the path, by the jutting out of a rock into the stream, for the water was pouring down rapidly and more profusely than was general, for there had been heavy rains in the mountains, and thus the bed of the torrent was fully covered, its width being very inconsiderable beneath the rock. The spot was one wholly unknown to the child, and surely it was a terrible sight to meet the eye of a babe, who hitherto had not known what it was to be left without a mother's or nurse's care. The place was in the heart of a mountain gorge, famed for its rare beauty, and the cascade came dashing from the rocks, which were very bold and picturesque in the little creek or gully where the child stood. The water, as I said, was pouring down white with foam, and majestically pursuing its course, shaking the earth around with its terrible roarings.

Fancy our little forlorn one then standing under the shelter of the rock, which, hanging over him in rough ma.s.ses, threatened to fall an crush his baby form, the stream rushing impetuously at his feet, and one little place beneath the rock, in fact part of the rock itself being somewhat elevated from the bed of the stream below, forming his only secure and dry resting place. I have said before, he had no covering on fit for walking attire, his arms, neck, and head being fully exposed to the breezes which now blew cruelly on his young figure, so that he could scarcely keep his feet, and glad was he to creep under the shelter of the threatening rock. There he stood looking around him in wild despair, for he had raised his voice to cry for pity, and its infant tones were not heard amidst the roaring waters; again and again he looked round him, but no help was there, and he trembled more from fear than cold. He was frightened at the roaring waters, for they seemed to him to be approaching, and wholly overcome with fear and wretchedness, and quite incapable of contending against his unhappy situation, he crouched beneath the threatening rock, too miserable to shed a tear. "Mamma, mamma," he said,--"Mamma, mamma," and that weak cry was repeated again and again, though no human ear could hear his sorrows or soothe his cries. Poor baby, what availed it then? your earthly father was the tenderest of parents--he could not have foreseen this trouble, and therefore he could not have been armed against it, but your heavenly Father's eye was on you, little one, and his eyes are ever on infants, the loveliest beings of his creation, and he who spared Nineveh, because there were in that wicked city more than six score thousand souls, who knew not their right hands from their left, still watches over his babies now, for has he not said of "Such is the kingdom of heaven."

But observe the little one, what makes his cry of 'Mamma, Mamma,' cease?

the babe has heard a sound, a pleasant sound, and he forgets his trouble. It is the sweet song of a bird upon a branch of a tree on the rock above him, and the bird likes the morning air and the sound of the waters, and he is singing his song of joy, and Reuben listened to him and was pleased, and then the little bird hopped down from his high perch and came lower and lower till he was quite close to the child, so close that the little one held out his hand, which frightened away the pretty bird, and Reuben was once more alone again, and commenced his cry of "Mamma, Mamma, come to Reuben, Mamma." But the bird had come to the rock because it had seen some bright berries on the bushes there, and before it had began its song it had pecked off one or two with its bill, or perhaps it might have been that other birds had pecked them off, and then rejected them, or the wind might have blown them from the parent bush; be that as it may, there were about as many as a dozen red berries scattered on the ground, where the little bird had hopped, and Reuben had seen them in looking at the bird, and now he began to collect them, looking here and there to find some more, and he thought if he put them into a nice heap together, their bright red colour would draw thither another singing bird to visit him. So he collected his berries, and tried to pile them together, and thus more time pa.s.sed, for whilst doing so, every little thing seemed to divert his attention--a skeleton leaf, a small flower, a smooth pebble, a drop of water sparkling in the sunshine, all attracted his infant eye, and thus, as we might say, his heavenly Father watched over the boy and soothed him from the real sorrows of his situation, till the time of his deliverance was at hand.

And are we not children of a large growth? are not our sorrows soothed and relieved by our Creator's mercies? and are not innocent pleasures and consolations put in the way of every child of G.o.d? and it is our own fault, yes, our own fault, and very much are we to blame when we reject the blessings of consolations offered us. "When our Saviour left us, he promised to send us a comforter to abide with us for ever." John xiv.

16; and as the Divine Spirit never fails in his fulfilment of his promises, be a.s.sured, you mourners, if you are not comforted, it is because you will not accept the consolation offered to you; for he has said, "I will not leave you comfortless, for he shall dwell with you, and shall be in you." John xiv. 17 and 18.

But why does little Reuben suddenly move his curls from off his cheek?

why does he listen, as he never listened before? and why does a merry little laugh escape his lips? and then he listens again, and now he does not laugh, but springing to his feet, with arms extended, he calls out "Nero, Nero." It is not that Nero hears that baby voice, it is not that the n.o.ble dog responds to the call, for the soft sound is lost amidst the roar of the waters; but he who fed Elijah by the means of ravens, and taught the dove to bear the olive leaf to Noah, has guided hither to the child a sure and safe conductor to his home. Look, look there!

across the stream stands Nero. Nero let out by Thomas for a wild run for exercise as directed first by Mr. Mortimer, and then by Marten; there he stood, his eyes red with eagerness, his tongue protruding, and panting and impatient as not knowing where next to turn his agile bounds. But not for another moment did this hesitation continue, for Reuben ran to the edge of the rock, both arms extended, and scarcely able for the breeze to keep his little feet firm upon the ground. "Nero, Nero," he cried, and almost ere his lips had closed, after the appeal, the n.o.ble dog, with a glorious bound sprang from stepping-stone to stepping-stone across the stream, and had overwhelmed the boy with his caresses. What mattered it to Reuben, that his kind friend in his joy at their meeting had absolutely overturned the child upon the ground? What cared he for that? It was Nero, his own Nero, his Nero from home, and Reuben did so love him, and Nero returned his love so warmly, and they were always so happy together, and there was no danger to be feared for Reuben, whilst the faithful animal was by him, which he had power to ward off. Reuben had recognised the dog's bark even amidst the waters roar, and that had made him laugh, for he never doubted that Nero would come to him shortly. And now I don't know how to tell how the rest happened, for in truth Reuben never could explain how things went on, particularly after the arrival of Nero, and there was no other living thing in that solitude but the child and dog. All that Reuben could recollect afterwards was, that he was cold and hungry, and that he wished to get home, and that Nero, too, seemed even more anxious than himself to get home, but Reuben dared not cross the stream, and Nero seemed almost as unwilling as himself to take the child across, and yet the faithful creature would not leave the boy for more able a.s.sistance.

Reuben was frightened at the threatening rock above his head, and yet he knew not how to leave it, for he had run on far enough to lose the way to the lane which led to Mr. Jameson's, and he was frightened at all around, and shivering and hungry, for he had tasted no food that morning.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

At last, finding all his efforts useless to tempt the little one across the stream, a new idea seemed to strike the sensible dog, for Nero was very sensible. He seemed all of a sudden to bethink himself that there might be another road home; and taking hold of Reuben's dress in his mouth, he attempted to draw him along the road the child had come. Now to this the little one was rather inclined, for he believed it would take him home, but on attempting to walk he found that he had hurt his foot before he had reached the rock, and that the cold air had made it stiff and painful. Poor Reuben was going to cry, and then I do not know what would have happened if Nero, finding out that something was wrong, had not seated himself beside the child on the ground to comfort him; and in so doing, reminded Reuben that Marten always told Nero to sit on the ground before he told his brother to get on the dog's back for a ride, for Reuben often took a ride on Nero's back. And now, then, fancy the child seated upon Nero, who rose at once gently from the ground, and with great care and stateliness commenced his progress homewards. It is said that a white elephant will not allow any one to ride upon him who is not of royal descent, and then the king of beasts steps on with full consciousness of the honour of his kingly burthen; but what could his pride be, compared with that of Nero's, as the faithful creature stepped on and on with his infant rider? It was not, after all, so slow a progress as might have been imagined, and as it is believed the dog followed the scent of the child's footsteps, he naturally went up the lane the little one had trod that morning. On arriving where the road divided, Nero was, however, no longer at a loss, for he knew which direction his own home lay, and Nero was not likely to be tempted elsewhere than home, for if he could have reasoned he would have said, in as strong terms as nurse herself could have used, that Reuben had better be at home than anywhere else whilst he was so young. Nero, as I said, now knew the road, for he had often accompanied the different members of Mr. Mortimer's family when they went to visit Mr. Jameson's, and how carefully, on account of his young rider, did he step on his way towards home.

And now I could say a great deal upon the fidelity of Nero, the trustfulness of Reuben, and the useful lesson the little one was learning; but I am anxious to speak of Marten and nurse, and all those who loved the child and trembled for his loss. And yet I cannot talk of their distress, the deep deep remorse of Marten, his full and complete acknowledgment of his own carelessness and ignorance of himself, so that nurse could not even say one word to him, though her tears and sobs were a deep reproach. No, I cannot speak of this, I would rather tell of how in the midst of all this trouble, tears were changed to smiles, and even laughter took the place of sobs, when Reuben came riding into the court yard tired, cold, and hungry, it is true, but no little important at his wonderful adventure. And then came such kisses and caresses, such warming by the kitchen fire, such a comfortable breakfast for the child, such luxuries for the dog, which Reuben was allowed to bestow; and then such runnings. .h.i.ther and thither to inform all the kind searchers all was right with the child, and such congratulations, that I should never have done, if I attempt but to repeat one half of them; so let me conclude in these words of the apostle, "Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of G.o.d: for G.o.d cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man. But every man is tempted when he is drawn away of his own l.u.s.t and enticed. Then when l.u.s.t hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin; and sin when it is finished, bringeth forth death."