The juvenile spectator : being observations on the tempers, manners, and foibles of various young persons, interspersed with such lively matter, as it is presumed will amuse as well as instruct

Front matter

*• CHILDREN'S BOOK COLLECTION

*

LOS ANGELES

Preface

IT is not a serious preface, to which I in- ^ vite my young readers to devote five minutes of their precious time ; I understand the general characters of children : a preface is a part of a book, seldom perused hy them; and, I am almost certain, that the title of this little volume, will, to many, appear very dull. " A Fairy Tale," " Amusing Stories," &c. &c. never fail to charm; and I have seen, the eager eyes of many an amiable child, intent on the marvellous part of a story, while the moral of it, if it contained any, was wholly overlooked,

In order to make truths as pleasant as I can, permit me to tell my own story.

I am an old woman, but not an old witch, nor yet a fairy ; yet, I will endeavour to prove to you, before I finish my book, that A 3

VI PREFACE.

I am a very comical old woman, and the many facts that I shall relate, will, I am persuaded, make some of you think that I have wonderful powers.- Such secret information as I shall set forth, under the terms of " Nursery anecdotes," " Parlour foibles/' " Garden mischiefs," and " Hyde Park romps," will lead you to suppose, that I possess that wonderful cap of which you have all read, and am able to be in all places unseen. But, as I am determined not to deceive you, I must, like an honest old woman, repeat,— my means are perfectly consistent with nature and truth. It is now twelve months since I was invited to eat my plumb-pudding with my grandchildren ; I obeyed the summons with much delight, hoping to pass the Christmas season agreeably in their society. I was disappointed : I saw them all in health, and with every comfort around them; but their manners and dispositions were by no means suited to the happiness of their situation. My spectacles, which are remarkably clear, proved of great service to me on this visit I had become an inmate of their

PREFACE. Vll

house, to partake in the festivities of the holidays; of course I did not feel at liberty to interrupt what they called their days of pleasure : but my reflections, when I returned home, were given to the subjects of their errors and little contentions, and I resolved on committing my thoughts to paper. For this purpose, I imparted my intentions to a few friends, who have occasionally helped me with information from various families. One lady suggested/that if I would permit the epistles of children to be inserted, it would greatly assist my plarj. I complied, and accordingly, many letters from young persons of both sexes will be found in this volume I am yet in doubt how my book will sue ceed, and have, therefore, received all papers through the ha'nds of my friendly agents, addressed to " Mrs. Argus" the name by which I choose to be known.

It will be highly gratifying to me, if they should prove as interesting to my young readers, as they were to me. I can assure" them, I have smiled nt many that will be found in these pages; have shed tears over a few}

V1U , PREFACE.

and, though I have been forced to reject one or two rather mtruswe epistles, I yet hope I have retained sufficient matter, to engage the attention of a liberal young public, to whom I beg to subscribe myself,

their sincere friend and well-wisher,

ARABELLA ARGUS.

oaliJir^K ;

Contents

• » v K'l^jmn

PREFATORY CHAPTER.*

Containing an introduction to some characters, who will make a considerable figure in our history* • •••••• p. 1

Chap. XIII

An arrival; an unexpected discovery; a little arrange, ment, and another sketch from real life, which needs no recommendation ••• 199

• ; CHAP. XIV.

In which an explanation of much promise is made in favour of an amiable boy, and the Juvenile Spectator takes leave of her readers 211

.

*

I

TH1

JUVENILE SPECTATOR.

A PREFATORY CHAPTER.

A Consultation.

MRS. BENTLY, who is my most intimate friend, and a woman whose judgment I reverence, was of opinioiij that it was highly necessary she should announce me as a watchful observer of children. r< Though unknown, I can transact a great part of your business," said my excellent friend, " and the children, when convinced that you are not an imaginary being, will be more sedulous and guarded in their conduct." I readily assented to her proposal, the result of which has more than answered my expectation;-for my grandchildren, whose happiness I am most anxious to promote, are amongst my correspondents. I have no doubt that many of my young readers could testify to the tendernesses and indulgencies bestowed upon them by their grandmothers. I believe, nay I am assured, that I love mine most sin- 1 cerely ; but, as I wish them to be esteemed by every body, and know that they will not always remain uniler the eye of their parents, — that they will mix in the world, where a variety of characters and dispositions will contend for what each considers his right : I would wish them to cast aside all frowarclness of temper, that selfishness which the fond circle called home, is ofteii ill calculated to suppress.

A quarrel in a nursery, decided only by an indulgent and too partial nurse, will be no precedent for what the same child shall meet in a school. " Sugarplumbs" and " kisses" are not the piuisters for a fall, or a rough blow among school-boys ; they meet upon equal terms. And though 1 would not infer that happiness is not to be expected in schools as in other place?, yet I am desirous of impressing on the minds of sensible children, that life, even from infancy, is subject to rebuffs, and that in fact these oppositions are1 highly serviceable to them. Which of you, but -upon reflection, can remember to have heard your parents express some disappointment, some regret? And what are you that you should expect to pass through life exempt from them ?

" To bear and forbear" is the duty of every person, whether young or old; but as I shall have occasion to speak at large on this subject, I will drop it for the present.

Mrs. Bently, io a very pleasant letter addressed to rne some months since, expressed herself very sanguine in the good to be effected by my plan. f

JtTVENILE SPECTATOR. 3

" I have been greatly amused, my dear Bella," said she; " all the little folks with whom I have spoken on the subject .of the ' Juvenile Spectator,' are curious to know ' What sort of person you are ?' ( Whether you are really an old woman?' 'Where you live?' ' If you walk the Park ?' ' What dress you wear?' &c. to all which inquiries I am uniformly silent, only promising to transmit any letter or note to Mrs. Argus, which they choose to entrust to_my care. T was present/' continued my friend, " at a consultation in one family which amused me very much. Charles Osborn declared, that he knew Mrs. Argus . < It is the old woman in the red cloak, who walked round the Serpentine last Thursday ; don't you remember, Charlotte, she looked very cunningly at us, and told me that I was a thoughtless boy to walk so near the water:' Charlotte looked very wise, yet somewhat ashamed. * I hope she is not the Spectator,' replied Charlotte Osborn, < for I remember I laughed at her, and said you were big enough to take care of yourself.' * 1 will stare 4t every old woman I meet,' said Charles, < and if I see the same person again, I will take off my hat and say, 6 How do you do Mrs. Argus?' I warned them not to make an attempt so rude," continued / Mrs. Bently, " and after awakening their curiosity, and impressing them with respect for your character, took my leave. The next morning I received a letter from Charles Osborn, which I forward to you \ your own discernment will lead you to a just understanding of his disposition from the little I have said. I am a stranger to the contents of his address, and am now, as I shall continue to be, only my dear Arabella's agent in this her kind interest for the rising generation."

I own to you, my little friends, that I was rather curious to peruse this my first appeal, under my new title of Spectator. I . broke the seal, and read as follows :

To Mrs. ARGUS.

A friend of my Mamma's says, that you are very clever at finding out the faults of children, pray tell me mine; for if you are as cunning as she says you are, I need not mention them to you.

I am certain I know you; don't you walk in the Park sometimes ? I am sure you do though, and you have a very long nose ; my sister Charlotte and I remarked it ; you know when I mean, so you need not deny it. Mrs. Bently says you are very good-natured ; do you ever make presents tb the children you like ? Charlotte and I hope you will answer this directly, for we are in a great hurry to be satisfied about you. Your's,

CHARLES OSBORN.

I laid this letter on my writing table, and was musing on its contents, when my servant delivered a very

JUVENILE SPECTATOR. " 7--. S

neatly folded note, which I immediately unclosed. It ran thus:

To Mrs. ARGUS.

MADAM,

A lady, who is my godmother, assures me that you are very fond of children, and will give your advice to all such as address you on the subject. I have many questions to ask of you, but do not know how to begin ; and, as I am twelve years of age, am afraid you should think me very childish in my inquiries. If you would be so good as to say what I may ask. I shall be much obliged to you. Till then, I remain, Madam,

Your obedient Servant, SOPHIA WILMOT.

The modesty and propriety of Miss Wil mot's note claimed my immediate notice. I took my pen, and addressed the following in reply :

Mrs. Argus will be happy to receive Miss Wilmot's communications on any subject which she shall think fit to communicate. To a young lady who expresses herself with so much becoming timidity, Mrs. Argus will have great pleasure in offering her advice ; nor is it necessary that she should add, that the age of Miss Wilmot does not place her above childhood ; as such, the inquiries which she hesitates to think proper, because childish, are perhaps the more essential to be made ; as at all ages a love of inquiry leads to wisdom \ and a habit of thinking correctly is only to be derived from forming our opinions on those principles which experience has sanctioned. Mrs. Argus will not think any question too trivial which shall help to establish the happiness of a young lady, whose well-written note, has impressed her with the most favourable opinion of the juvenile writer,

ARABELLA ARGUS.

I soon discovered that my character of Spectator was generally known, and rejoiced that my person was screened from notice. For on going to my daughter's one morning, I was compelled to smile internally, such a scene met my view ; but I, will describe it for the amusement of my readers. My four grandchildren were seated at a large book-table, each scribbling according to their abilities. " I cannot kiss you just now, grandmamma," said Lucy, " for I am writing to such a funny old woman about my wax doll. Harriet wants me to let her nurse it sometimes, but I am determined she shall not ; so I shall ask Mrs. Argus if I have not a right to do what 1 please w ith my own doll." I was on the point of replying, when Harriet overturned the ink-stand, which unfortunately defaced the half-finished epistle of William, who, enraged at the accident, turned in great anger to his sister, and in reaching his hand to give her a slight chastisement, threw his elder sister, who was sitting on one corner of

SPECTATOR. ?

a chair, on the floor : in a moment all was confusion ; my daughter, whose weak state of health, makes her / incapable of thdt exertion so requisite in a young family, was so alarmed by Fanny's accident, as to be near fainting. I united'with William In quieting her fears, and a small piece of gold-beater's skin being applied to Fanny's wounded elbow, tranquillity was in a few minutes restored. The interference, whichy at any other period, I should have considered necessary, would now have proved superfluous > as I purposed to reprove them under my fictitious character. Drawing their attention, therefore, to the blotted letter, I simply asked, " if they did not mean to prosecute their intention, and write to the Spectator ?JA' William, who is an intelligent and clever boy, but rather thoughtless, instantly took another sheet of paper, declaring he would tell the old woman the exact state of things,* " that he had begun a letter to her, which was interrupted by the carelessness of Harriet." " Do not omit to name Fanny's custom of sitting on the corner of her chair 5'' said I, " nor yet your brotherly attempt to strike your sister." " Must I do all this/' said he, pausing. " Certainly, my dear," I replied, ''for as I suppose, you mean to ask the advice of this invisible old woman, it is impossible she can reply to you, unless you state facts exactly as they occur.'' "Then we will all join in the same letter," said Fanny, u and each of us speak of ourselves.1' This proposal meeting general assent, they proceeded with their epistle, and I entered into conversation with my daughter.

It had long been my wish that William should be sent to a public school; his mother had resisted my importunities, not equal to the idea of a second separation from her family ; for I should apprize my readers, that Captain Mordaunt, my son-in-law, had at- , tended his wife to the Continent, her health requiring a southern clime. They were absent nearly three years, in which time the children had b.j n under the care of the captain's mother, who, from a mistaken • tenderness to her grandchildren, had indulged them to an excess of weakness. William, whom she always pronounced a hero, was warm-hearted but self-willed. Fanny, gentle and affectionate, yet so inattentive as to appear indifferent to the wishes of her friends. Harriet, a lively little romp, always doing mischief from mere thoughtlessness. Lucy, a pet, with a strong inclination lo selfishness. My own retired way of life, which until the return of Mrs, Mordaunt, had been uniformly passed in the country, made me an almost stranger to my grandchildren. I would willingly have received them into my care during the absence of their parents, but the captain's mother would not be refused ; and being unwilling to interfere in a domestic arrangement, I yielded my right. I had good reasons for supposing that my daughter would have determined otherwise, but Captain Mordaunt was fondly attached to his mother, and had, besides, a strong prejudice in favour of the advantages of a metropolitan education. The children, however, had had little done for them in point of learning. Masters and instructresses innumerable had been engaged to attend them daily, but from their instructions, however well qualified to teach, it was impossible they could derive much, as a sight always superseded a lesson, the teachers ofte;i being dismissed, because the fatigue of an ever ing passed at Sadler's Wells, made the young votaries of pleasure incapable of study on the ensuing day. Thus, an immense sum of money had been expended to very little advantage.

The death of old Mrs. Mordaunt which happened immediately after my daughter's arrival, consigned the children to their disappointed mother. I had hastened to London to meet them en famine, and too soon perceived that their parents must experience much uneasiness before the effects of their unlimited indulgencies could be eradicated. I could not conform to the noise and continued dissentions of these little squab-' biers, and, therefore, provided myself with a small house contiguous to their dwelling. Even the few weeks which they termed holidays, because the masters were discontinued, were, as I have before related, so unpleasant to me as to cause me much uneasiness ; and I had no sooner retired to my own peaceful dwelling, than my present plan of" Juvenile Spectator," occurred to me. After this, my family introduction, I presume B 3 my young readers will follow me through my miscellaneous subjects with more interest.

It really required some self-command on my part, when, after an hour spent in the composition of this letter by several hands, I heard the footman desired to go to Mrs. Bently's with it, and beg that she would send it as soon as possible. It would be impossible to describe all the varieties of disposition that were displayed during its composition. Fanny thought William said too much, and woukl not leave roam for her; yet, when it was presented for her addition, she seemed wholly at a loss what to say, declaring that she did not know how to begin ; she wished her mamma or grandmamma woukl just tell her the first sentence. Harriet wished her turn was corns, for she had a great many thoughts in her head just at that moment ; while Lucy said, she did not want a subject^ as Harriet was always wanting her things,, and she was sure the Spectator would agree with her, that " every body aught to-be contented with their own.'*

As I entered my parlour, after a day of some fatigue and many regrets,. I perceived two or three juvenile epistles waiting my arrival ; their contents must make the subject of a new Chapter.

Chap. I

• For he that loveth not his brother, whom he hath seen, how can he Jove God, whom he hath not seen ? And this commandment have we from him, that he who loveth God, loveth his brother also."

NEXT morning at breakfast I entered on my voluntary office of " Spectator." Though I could partly guess the purport of William Mordaunt's address, affection prompted me to read his letter first : I will transcribe it faithfully.

To MRS. ARGUS.

I hear that you know Mrs. Bendy ; she is a very nice lady, and we, (that is, myself and my sisters) are very fond of her ; yet she is rather particular, but then, she tells us very pleasant stories, which I believe she makes out of her own head, for they always make some of us blush, because they explain our faults. She told us the other day, that you would give us directions how to be good and happy, and I suppose you know that all children have faults. Pray what ought I to do ? I am often very passionate and I cannot help it, for my sisters are so provoking. , What ought I to do? I really love them very much, but just now Harriet turned the ink-stand over a letter T had almost finished, and meant to send to you. I was going to give her a thump of the head, and by accident threw Fanny off her seat ; but, to be sure, she was only sitting upon the corner of her chair, and I was sorry afterwards, as it alarmed mamma, who is not well. Give me some directions, if you please, ma'am, and I shall be much obliged to you. I must leave off now, as Fanny wishes to say a few words to you.

k WILLIAM MOKDAUNT.

I am so stupid at writing letters, that I am afraid you will not have patience with me, madam. William has said enough to let you know that we do not agree so well as we ought. I have a habit of sitting on the corner of my chair, and though I am often told it is wrong, I always forget what is said. Yet, I can assure you, I love my mamma dearly, but grandmamma Mordaunt never used to notice it, so 1 did not know it was wrong. How shall I break myself of this custom. I am very desirous of pleasing my mamma : be so good as to tell me how I shall begin to correct this fault. I have many others, I believe, but this happened to frighten my mamma, who thought I was hurt by my

JUVENILE SPECTATOR. :l$

fall, and it has convinced ine that I ought to strive to get rid of it.

FANNY MORDAUNT.

Pray, madam, is there any harm in being a romp. I hope not, for I am such a giddy little thing, that I am always in mischief; the worst of it is, I am for ever getting tasks from my masters, and ihe governess who comes to hear us read, for I never have my lessons ready ; so they give me more to do, though I have not time to learn what they set me. I used to get off with my other masters when grandmamma Mordaunt was alive, for she said I looked so pretty when I laughed, that it was worth a thousand lessons. But now, it is quite a different case : my mamma is not pleased if I don't please my teachers, and they are cross ; and grandmamma Harley always looks so disappointed when I cannot give a good account of myself, that I am quite ashamed to meet her. She is such a nice old lady, and so wise,' she can always tell by my looks if I have done well, that I should like to please her almost as well as mamma ; but I really don't know how to begin, and I hope you will not say that I must give up play, for that is impossible; however, I will be sure to mind what you say — good bye.

HARRIET MORDAUNT.

None of them will let me see what they have written to you, Ma'am. I dare say it is all about me, but I don't care, for, as nurse Jenkins says — " one story is good till another is told." But Miss Harriet did not tell you that she is always undressing my doll, though it is my very own. She knows she broke hers the second day after she got it ; and because she has given away all her pocket-money she wants me to let her have mine to give away too ; but that I shall not do, for I have rubbed mine till they are so bright, they are quite like a looking glass, and I mean to keep up all I get till I am a woman, and then I shall be quite rich. Pray have not I a right to do as I please with my own things ? I am sure you will say yes, and I hope you will write to us soon. I have nothing more to say at present.

LUCY MORDAUNT.

Had I been a stranger to my young correspondents, the preceding letters would fully have explained their dispositions, and I owned a very great degree of satisfaction in perceiving that their method of expressing themselves was so natural. There was evidently much to be done away, much improvement required, before they could either be a comfort to their parents or happy in themselves. For it is an invariable truth, f< that to be good is to be happy." As my readers are acquainted with my consanguinity to these little folks, they will not wonder that t heir's was the first letter to which I replied this morning.

To Master WILLIAM MORDAUNT.

I lose no time in answering your ingenuous epistle. I should consider myself very culpable indeed if I suffered a day to elapse without writing to you,, and this, simply from one word in your letter : you avow yourself passionate. It is a most dreadful and degrading trait of character— dreadful, because in one moment of passion we may forfeit the peace of our future days, and make ourselves unworthy of the protecting care of heaven : degrading, because passionate people are obliged to make concessions of the most humiliating sort. All human creatures are liable to err, and to confess our regret for a fault is at once noble, and must disarm the anger of those whom we have offended. But in cases of passion we have assumed a right inconsistent with our place in society. We are not to avenge even what we consider a wrong, much less become aggressors. I presume, that all those with whom I shall have the honour to correspond under the title of " Spectator," have made some advances in the best of all histories, " sacred history.7' As such let them reflect on the Son of God ; his sufferings, the indignities to which he was subject, owning in himself all the virtue and purity of a saint, he submitted to insult, cruelty and pain : yet he, though reviled, *f reviled not again." Reflection, that noble distinction between the human and animal creation, was bestowed upon us to be exercised* If you consider j6 JUVENILE SPECTATOR.

yourself offended, avow the same ; let your language be moderate, and the time which your explanation will necessarily require, will subdue this unfortunate propensity, which is, in fact, a temporary madness.

That incident, to which your letter refers, appears trivial ; but, had your sister fallen against a table, or any other piece of furniture having sharp corners, it might have occasioned instant death. You have no right to chastise the faults of your sisters. Represent what you feel to be offensive to you ; and even this should be done with tenderness. You are of a sex born to protect females, and. as I doubt not that you wish to be thought manly, I must beg to tell you, there cannot be any thing less like courage than an act of this sort. I hope you will consider this in a just point of view, and continue to give me your free communications. You may observe, that I address you as a boy of sense, and the head of a young family. You say, your mother was alarmed by your disagreement, let this likewise La e its weight. Your remark, that " all children have faults," is in part just, perhaps ; yet I hope, and indeed I have the pleasure to know somea who are very dutiful in every respect.

I will trouble you to acquaint your sisters, that I will answer their questions by to-morrow's post, having two or three pi'ior favors, to which I must reply. I remain.

Your sincere Friend,

I dispatched this letter with all possible haste, and the hand-writing, or rather the scrawl, of Master Osborn, catching my eye, I felt it indispensible to give him a few lines. I took my pen, and wrote as follows:

TTo Master OSBORN.

SIR,

In my assumed character of (e Spectator," I must necessarily receive all letters addressed to me; this avowal is by no means an acknowledgment that I shall answer all of them. Yours' happened to be the ^r^^epistle, and it is on this account I devote a little time to you.

I pretend to no particular cunning, the term is inelegant and offensive to m&; I have no personal knowledge of you, or your sister Charlotte, nor am I conscious that my nose is remarkable in any way. With respect to presents, I have never considered that good children require rewards ; the pleasure of doing our duty, in any situation, and at all periods of our lives, conveys more real delight to the heart, than all the treasures of the East could bestow ; and excuse me, sir, when I add, that the manner and style of your letter would not, (if I had ever purposed to dispense rewards,) entitle you to such a distinction. I mention this to you with candour ; nor do I wish to repress your inquiries, if, after this, you feel disposed to make any. On the contrary, you will rise in my opinion if you make the attempt. I have taken some time to consider your letter before I replied to it, and must ingenuously confess, that I have written to many of my young friends previously to my answering yours', and this, merely to prove to you that I do not attend to peremptory commands. Yet I am your sincere friend, and the friend of all children.

ARABELLA ARGUS.

My young readers will observe, that in addressing Charles Osborn I was careful to treat him with a certain respect ; 1 was induced to this from my strong disapprobation of his very familiar and bold manner. It is a general fault in youth, and indeed in more mature age, to cast aside decorum, when they mean to be clever, witty, &c. These qualities are, in themselves, very unessential, if not detrimental to their possessors; and unfortunately, many persons esteem themselves brilliant in these points, who are in fact wholly destitute of such talents. But, as I am speaking of children, I cannot forbear observing, that it has often given me sincere concern when I have heard the smart answers, and wise sayings of children, related in their presence; il is a most injudicious mode of shewing our affection j a love of praise is a feeling predominant in the infant mind, and it is part of a parent's duty to bestow it, but it must be administered with caution, not lavished on slight occasions : the child who conquers a bad habit, or con* fesses an error, should meet all the encouragement which the just exercise of their reason demands. But, where an act, the simple effect of that affection which should ever bind us to our kindred*-— where we have beheld the mere yielding of one to the comfort of another 9 I can see no reason in such a. case fpr exalting the deed. Convince them that they have performed a duty, and that it will make the happiness of their future days certain j if in their youth they acquire the habit of considering their duties indispensible.