Waste not, want not stories

Introduction

The stories in this volume are from Miss Edgeworth’s The Parents' Assistant, one of the most famous as well as most charming of old-time children’s books. But though The Parents' Assistant is recognized as a childhood classic, it is comparatively little read now, — and no wonder with such a title. Judging by that, a person who did not know the book would get the impression that it contained good advice for fathers and mothers in a series of dull essays. You would not suspect it to be the volume of bright, entertaining stories which it really is.

Henc6 it seems well worth while to make this collection of the best of the stories and put them in a form to attract the youthful reader. The title I have chosen indicates their character. They are all stories with a purpose. They teach thrift and honesty, industry and manliness. We see in them that people feel cheerful and happy when they are employed, and we find in them antidotes for pride, for ill humor, and hastiness of temper, and for the tendency to admire and imitate the fashions of the time being. The stories are dramatic, and arouse hope, fear, and curiosity ; there is always brisk conversation and the sentiment is admirable.

Probably nothing better of the sort has ever been written. However, the modern child in dipping into The Parents' Assistant would doubtless be somewhat deterred by the superabundance of moralizing which it was the habit of the period when the book was written to include in children’s stories. This preachiness has largely been cut out in editing; for it hurts the interest, and the incidents of the tales point their own morals and do not need any reenforcement I have also cut out or changed local references and English words and expressions not easily understood by American children. Otherwise I have retained as nearly as possible the original text.

The author of these stories was born January i, 1767, near Oxford in England. At the age of eight she was sent to a boarding school in Derby, and later she attended a more fashionable school in London, where she went through the course of tortures customary at this period to improve the figure and carriage. The treatment included the wearing of backboards and iron collars ; and the attempt was made to increase her height by swinging her by the neck. The swinging was supposed to draw out the muscles, but it failed to be effective, and she continued very small all her life.

She was remembered by her companions at both schools for her entertaining stories. These were told at bedtime, and she learned to know what tale was most successful by the wakefulness it caused. Some of her narrations were taken from memory ; for while her friends played she was reading books ; but many were original.

Mr. Edgeworth had an estate in Ireland, and when Maria was fifteen he removed thither with his family. There he had determined to dwell permanently, improving his estate, educating his children, and helping the people to better their condition. He had a very large family, and a good deal of the care of the younger Edgeworths fell to Maria; but children were never a burden to her. Rather, they furnished entertainment and stimulus, and she was always happy in their companionship. She often wrote stories for the amusement of the little ones of the household, and after reading a story aloud to them, if the reception was favorable, she copied it.

The stories were begun with no idea of publication, but in 1 796 they were gathered into a printed volume. This was The Parents' Assistant, and, in spite of the formidable title, the charm of the stories won for the book an immediate success. The narratives are such genuine bits of life that they have permanent interest. To be sure, the little heroes and heroines are very, very good, and few real children would be able to exercise such selfcontrol and cheerful generosity. Then, too, there is always some benevolent person who appears in the nick of time to distribute rewards or point a moral. But these things do not spoil the stories, and one even feels a certain satisfaction in seeing poetic justice done so unerringly to all concerned.

Miss Edgeworth was a lover of order. She was fastidiously neat in dress, methodical in her habits, and had rare powers of concentration and an uncommonly retentive memory. Her desk was in the large sitting room, where the family, which numbered fifteen or twenty, and the guests, who were often many, were accustomed to gather. The room was also the library and the meeting place of business visitors. But here she wrote her books in the midst of conversation and the noise of her young brothers and sisters; and yet she was noted for her perfect manuscripts.

She was an early riser, and in summer usually came into the breakfast room from a walk in the open air with her hands full of flowers. After breakfast she wrote till luncheon time, and later occupied herself with her needle, went for a ride, and attended to social and other duties. Warmth of heart and tenderness were notable among her attributes, and tales of distress or of mirth found a quick response in tears and smiles. She was plain of countenance and unpretending in her whole appearance; but those who conversed with her forgot these things byreason of the sweetness of spirit and genius which lighted and gave expression to her features. Her movements were active and alert, and she was always ready to take steps for others. She enjoyed little adventures heartily, and an indomitable youthfulness was characteristic of her even to the age of fourscore.

Miss Edgeworth was loved and respected in all the relations of life, and when she died. May 21, 1849, death was mourned as a public loss on both sides of the Atlantic.

LIST OF STORIES

Waste Not, Want Not .

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PAGE

Tarlton ....

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. 46

The Basket-woman .

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• 74

The White Pigeon .

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• 97

Forgive and Forget

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. 112

The False Key

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. 134

The Birthday Present .

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. 170

Lazy Lawrence

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. 189

The Orphans .

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. 229

WASTE NOT, WANT NOT, STORIES

Mr. Gresham, a merchant who had accumulated a considerable fortune, retired from business and built a house near the town of Clifton in the west of England, and there he lived with his little daughter Patty. He was fond of children, and as he had no sons he determined to adopt one. The choice lay between two nephews, and he invited both of them to his house that he might have a chance to judge of their dispositions and of the habits they had acquired.

Hal and Benjamin, Mr. Gresham’s nephews, were about ten years old. They had been educated very differently. Hal was the son of a gentleman who spent rather more than he could afford ; and the boy had learned from the example of the servants in his father’s family to waste more of everything than he used. He had unfortunately got the notion that extravagance was the sign of a generous nature, and economy of an avaricious one.

Benjamin, on the contrary, had been taught habits of care and foresight. His father had but a very small fortune, and was anxious that his son should early learn that economy insures independence.

The morning after the two boys arrived at their uncle’s, they were eager to see all the rooms in the house. Mr. Gresham showed them through his dwelling until, last of all, they came to the kitchen.

“ Oh, what an excellent motto ! ” exclaimed Ben when he read the following words which were printed in large letters over the chimney-piece : —

“Waste not, want not! ” repeated his cousin Hal in rather a contemptuous tone. “ I think it looks stingy.”

Just then Mr. Gresham was called away, and when he returned, his nephews were in the hall. “ Boys,” said he, handing them each a bundle, “ will you unpack these two parcels for me } ”

Then he left the boys and went into the parlor. The two parcels were exactly alike, both of them well tied up with cord. Ben took his bundle to a table, and began carefully to examine the knots and then to untie them. Hal stood still, exactly on the spot where the bundle was put into his hands, and tried, first at one corner and then at another, to pull the string off by force»

“ I wish people wouldn’t tie up their parcels so tight, as if they were never to be undone,” cried he, as he tugged at the cord ; and he pulled the knots closer instead of loosening them. “ Ben ! Why, how did you get yours undone ? I wish this string would come off. I must cut it.”

“ Oh, no ! ” said Ben, who had now undone the last knot of his parcel, and who drew out the length of string with exultation. “ Don’t cut it, Hal. Look what a nice cord this is, and yours is the same. It would be a pity to cut it.”

“ Pooh ! ” Hal responded. *•“ What signifies a bit of packthread ? ”

Ben and Hal untying the parcels

“ It is whipcord,” said Ben.

“Well, whipcord! What signifies a bit of whipcord? You can get twice as much whipcord as that for twopence ; and who cares for twopence ? Not I, for one! So here goes!” cried Hal, taking out his knife ; and he cut the cord in several places.

“ Lads, have you undone the packages for me ? ” asked Mr. Gresham, stepping into the hall as he spoke.

“Yes, sir, here’s mine,” replied Hal; and he dragged off the cut and entangled string.

“And here’s my parcel, and here’s the string,” said Ben.

“You may keep the string for your trouble,” said Mr. Gresham.

“ Thank you, sir,” said Ben.

“And you, Hal,” continued Mr. Gresham, “you may keep your string, too, if it will be of any use to you.”

“ It will be of no use to me, thank you, sir,” said Hal.

“No, I am afraid not, if this be it,” remarked his uncle, taking up Hal’s jagged and knotted cord.

A few days afterward Mr. Gresham gave to each of his nephews a new top. “ But how’s this ? ” said

Hal. “ These tops have no strings to spin them with. What shall we do for strings ? ”

“ I have a string that will do very well for mine,” said Ben ; and he pulled out of his pocket the fine long string which had tied up the bundle. With this he made his top spin admirably.

“Oh, how I wish I had a string!” said Hal. “ What shall I do for a string ? I’ll tell you — I can use the string that goes round my hat.”

“ But then,” said Ben, “ what will you do for a hatband.?”

“ ni manage to get along without one,” replied Hal ; and he took the string off from his hat for his top. It soon was worn out, and he threw it away.

Some time after this a lady, who was intimately acquainted with Hal’s mother, arrived at Clifton. She had been informed that Hal was at Mr. Gresham’s ; and her sons, who were friends of his, came to see him, and invited him to spend the next day with them.

Hal joyfully accepted the invitation ; for Lady Diana Sweepstake was a very fine lady, and her two sons intended to be very great gentlemen. Hal was in a prodigious hurry when the young Sweepstakes knocked at his uncle’s door the next day ;

but just as he got to the foot of the hall stairs, little Patty called after him from the top of the stairs and told him he had dropped his handkerchief.

“ Pick it up and bring it to me, quick, can’t you, child } ” cried Hal. “ Lady Di’s sons are waiting for me.”

Little Patty did not know anything about Lady Di’s sons. However, she was very good-natured, and she saw that her cousin Hal was for some reason or other in a desperate hurry. So she ran downstairs as fast as she possibly could toward the place where the handkerchief lay ; but, alas ! before she reached the handkerchief, she fell and rolled down the whole flight of stairs, and when her fall was at last stopped she did not rise, and lay as if she were in great pain.

“Where are you hurt, my love?” said Mr. Gresham, who came instantly on hearing the noise of some one falling downstairs. “ Where are you hurt, my dear?”

“ Here, papa,” said the little girl, touching her ankle ; “ but not much,” added she, trying to get up, “only it hurts me when I move.”

“ Don’t move, then,” said her father, “ Pll carry you ; ” and he took her up in his arms.

“ My shoe — I’ve lost one of my shoes,” said she.

Ben looked for it on the stairs, and he found it sticking in a loop of whipcord which was caught round one of the banisters. When he took up this cord he saw it was the very same jagged, entangled piece Hal had pulled off from his parcel. Hal had diverted himself running up and down stairs, whipping the banisters with it, as he thought he could make no better use of it ; and with his customary carelessness he at last left it hanging just where he happened to throw it when the dinner bell rang. Poor Patty’s ankle was terribly sprained, and Hal reproached himself for his folly, and would have reproached himself longer, perhaps, if Lady Di Sweepstake’s sons had not hurried him away.

In the evening,

^ 11, Ben and Patty play cat's cradle

Patty could not

run about as usual, but sat on the sofa; and she said that she did not feel the pain of her ankle as much while Ben was so good as to play with her.

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“ That’s right, Ben,” said his uncle, as the boy produced his whipcord to amuse Patty with a game at her favorite cat’s cradle.

Hal, when he returned in the evening, and saw Ben playing with his little cousin, could not help smiling contemptuously. In a heedless manner he made some inquiries after Patty’s sprained ankle, and then he hastened to tell all the news he had heard at Lady Diana Sweepstake’s, — news which he thought would make him appear a person of vast importance.

“Do you know, uncle — do you know, Ben,” said he, “there’s to be the most famous doings that ever were heard of on the Downs here, the first day of next month, which will be in a fortnight. I wish the fortnight were over. I shall think of nothing else till that happy day comes ! ”

Mr. Gresham inquired why the first of September was to be so much happier than any other day in the year.

“ Oh,” replied Hal, “ Lady Diana Sweepstake, you know, is a famous rider and archer and all that.”

“Very likely,” said Mr. Gresham; “but what then } ”

“Dear uncle,” cried Hal, “there’s to be a race on the Downs the first of September, and after the race there’s to be an archery meeting for the ladies, and Lady Diana Sweepstake is to be one of them. After the ladies have done shooting — now, Ben, comes the best part of it — we boys are to have our turn, and Lady Di is to give a prize of a very handsome bow and arrow to the best marksman among us. I’ve been practicing already, and to-morrow I’ll show you the famous bow and arrows that Lady Diana has given me, as soon as they come home. But perhaps,” added he, with a scornful laugh, “you like a cat’s cradle better than a bow and arrows.”

Ben made no reply ; but the next day, when the new bow and arrows came, he convinced Hal that he knew how to use them very well.

“ You seem to be a good marksman, Ben,” said his uncle. “ I’ll give you a bow and arrows, and if you practice, you may make yourself an archer before the first of September.”

“ Oh, sir,” interrupted Hal, “ if you mean that Ben should try for the prize, he must have a uniform.”

“ Why must he } ” asked Mr. Gresham.

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“ Because everybody has one, — I mean everybody that’s anybody ; and it’s settled all about it except the buttons. The young Sweepstakes are to get theirs done first for patterns. They are to be white, faced with green; and I shall write mamma to-night about mine. If she makes no objection, which I know she won’t, because she never thinks much about expense, then I shall bespeak my uniform, and get it made by the same tailor that makes for Lady Diana and the young Sweepstakes.”

“ Mercy on us ! ” said Mr. Gresham. “ I don’t pretend to understand these things, but we will inquire into the case, Ben ; and if a uniform is necessary, or if you think it necessary — why. I’ll give you one ; and I will give Hal a uniform, too, on the same conditions.”

“Will you, indeed exclaimed Hal. “Well, that’s the last thing in the world I would have expected. I supposed you’d think it extravagant to have a coat on purpose only for one day.”

“ Put on your hats, boys,” said Mr. Gresham, “and come with me. I know a gentleman whose sons are to be at this archery meeting, and we will inquire into all the particulars from him. Afterward we shall have time to walk to Bristol, and we will choose the cloth for the uniforms there, if they are necessary.”

“ I cannot tell what to make of all he says,” whispered Hal, as he reached for his hat. “ Do you think, Ben, he means to give us these uniforms, or not ? ”

“ I think,” said Ben, “ that he means to give them to us if they are necessary, or, as he said, if we think they are necessary.”

The gentleman on whom Mr. Gresham called had three sons, who were all to be at the archery meeting; and they unanimously declared that they had never thought of buying uniforms for the occasion, and that, among their acquaintances, they knew of but two boys whose parents intended to be at such an expense. Hal stood amazed.

“ Such are the varieties of opinion on all the affairs of life,” said Mr. Gresham, looking at his nephews. “ The only thing that can be done in these cases, my dear boys, is to judge for yourselves which opinions and which people are the most reasonable.”

Hal’s thoughts were, however, at present, too full of the uniform to allow his judgment to act with perfect impartiality. As they walked toward Bristol, after their visit was over, he continued to repeat nearly the same arguments which he had formerly used respecting the uniform, until, in passing a pastry cook’s shop, his senses were assailed by the delicious odor and tempting sight of certain cakes and jellies. “ Oh, uncle,” said he, “ I must buy some of those good things.”

His uncle, who was desirous to see his nephews act without restraint that he might judge their characters, bade him do as he pleased.

“Come, Ben,” cried Hal, “you get something, too, if you’ve any halfpence in your pocket.”

“ I’m not hungry,” said Ben.

“ I suppose that means you’ve no halfpence,” responded Hal, laughing.

Contrary to his cousin’s surmise, Ben happened to have twopence in his pocket. At the very moment Hal stepped into the pastry cook’s shop a poor man with a wooden leg, who swept the corner at this spot, held out his hat to Ben; and Ben, after glancing at the petitioner’s well-worn broom, instantly produced his twopence. “ I wish I had more for you, my good man,” said he.

Hal came out of the confectioner’s shop with a hatful of cakes in his hands. A dog was sitting on the step before the door, and he looked up at Hal with wistful, begging eyes. Hal threw a whole queen cake to the dog, who swallowed it at a single mouthful.

“There goes twopence in the form of a queen cake,” said Mr.

Gresham.

Hal ate and ate as he walked

Ben gives twopence to the sweeper

along, till at last

he stopped and said, “ This bun tastes so bad after the queen cakes, I can’t bear it,” and he was going to fling it into the road.

“ Oh, it’s a pity to waste that good bun,” said Ben. “ Give it to me, rather than throw it away.”

“ Why, I thought you were not hungry,” was Hal’s response.

“ True,” answered Ben, “ I am not hungry now; but that is no reason why I should never be hungry.”

“ Well, there is the bun for you,” said Hal. “ Take it, for it has made me sick, and I don’t care what becomes of it.”

Ben folded his cousin’s bun in a piece of paper and put it into his pocket.

“ I’m beginning to be exceedingly tired, besides feeling sick,” Hal declared. “ Hadn’t we better take a coach instead of walking all the way to Bristol ? ”

“ For a stout archer, you are more easily tired than one might have expected,” said Mr. Gresham. “ However, let us take a coach, for Ben wants me to show him the cathedral ; and I believe I would find it rather too much to walk so far.”

“ Are we going to Bristol to visit the cathedral ? ” said Hal, after he had been seated in the coach about a quarter of an hour and had somewhat recovered from his sickness. “ I thought we came to see about the uniforms.”

“ But we need not make a whole morning’s work, need we, of looking at a piece of cloth ? ” said Mr. Gresham. “ Cannot we see that and a cathedral both in one morning ? ”

They went first to the cathedral. Ben looked at the large stained figures in the Gothic window, and he observed their colored shadows on the floor and walls. Mr. Gresham, who perceived that he was eager on all subjects to gain information, took this opportunity of telling him several things about the art of making such windows, which Hal thought extremely tiresome.

“Come, come! We shall be late,” said Hal. “ Surely, you’ve looked long enough, Ben, at this blue and red window.”

“ Hark I ” cried Ben. “ Did you hear that noise ? ”

They all listened, and they heard a bird singing in the cathedral. “ It’s our old robin, sir,” said the lad who had opened the cathedral door for them.

“Yes,” said Mr. Gresham, “there is the bird, boys, — look, — perched on the organ. It often sits there and sings while the organ is playing.”

“ And it has lived here these many, many years,” continued the lad who showed the cathedral. “ It is so tame that if I had a bit of bread it would come down and feed from my hand.”

“ I’ve a bun I ” exclaimed Ben, joyfully producing the bun which Hal an hour before would have thrown away. “ Pray, let us see the robin eat out of your hand.”

The lad crumbled the bun and called to the robin, which fluttered and chirped, and seemed rejoiced at the sight of the bread; yet it did not come down from the pinnacle on the organ.

“ It is afraid of us,” said Ben. “ It is not used to eating before strangers, I suppose.”

“ Ah, no, sir, that is not the thing,” replied the lad with a deep sigh. “ Time was it would have come to me at my first call, before ever so many fine folks, and eaten its crumbs out of my hand; but it does not know me now, sir, since my accident, because of this great black patch.”

The lad put his hand to his right eye, which was covered with a huge black patch. Ben asked what accident he meant ; and the lad told him that a few weeks previous he had lost the sight of his eye, by the blow of a stone, which struck him as he was passing near a ledge of rocks where some workmen were blasting. “ I don’t mind so much for myself, sir,” said the lad ; “ but I can’t work so well now for my old mother; and I’ve four little brothers and sisters not able yet to get their own livelihood, though they are as willing as willing can be.”

“ Where does your mother live } ” asked Mr. Gresham.

“ Hard by, sir, close to the cathedral,” responded the lad. “It was she who always had the showing of the cathedral to strangers till she lost the use of her limbs.”

Ben suggested that they should call at the lad’s house, and his uncle agreed. It was rather a hovel than a house ; but, poor as it was, it was as neat as misery could make it. The old woman was sitting up in her wretched bed winding worsted. Four pale, ill-clothed children were all busy sorting rags for the paper maker.

“ What a horrid place it is ! ” said Hal. “ I did not know there were such shocking places in the world. I’ve often seen terrible looking tumbledown houses as I was going through the town in mamma’s carriage, but I did not know who lived in them, and I never saw the inside of any of them. It is very dreadful, indeed, to think that people are forced to live in this way. I wish mamma would send me some more pocket money, that I might do something for them. I had half a crown ; but,” continued he, feeling in his pockets, “ I spent the last shilling of it this morning for those cakes that made me sick. I wish I had my shilling now. I’d give it to these poor people.”

Hal, after he was again seated in the coach and had rattled through the busy streets of Bristol for a few minutes, quite forgot the spectacle of poverty which he had seen, and the gay shops wholly occupied his imagination. “ Now for our uniforms ! ” cried he, as he jumped eagerly out of the coach, when his uncle stopped at the woolen draper’s door.

“Uncle,” said Ben, as Mr. Gresham was about to get out of the carriage, “ I don’t think a uniform is at all necessary for me. I’m very much obliged to you, but I would rather not have one.”

“ Well, we will see about it after we are in the shop,” said Mr. Gresham. “ Perhaps the sight of the beautiful green and white cloth may tempt you to change your mind.”

The green cloth and the white cloth were produced, to Hal’s infinite satisfaction. His uncle took up a pen and calculated for a few minutes. Then he showed to his nephews the back of the letter on which he had been writing, and said, “ By these figures I find I could, for a little more than half the money your uniforms would cost, purchase for each of you boys a warm greatcoat, which I have a notion you will want this winter.”

“ Oh, sir,” said Hal, “ but it is not winter yet ! It is not cold weather yet ! We shan’t want greatcoats yet!”

“ Don’t you remember how cold we were, Hal, the day before yesterday, in that sharp wind, when we were flying our kites on the Downs ? ” said Ben. “And winter will come, though it is not come yet. I am sure I would like to have a good warm greatcoat very much.”

Mr. Gresham took six guineas out of his purse, and he placed three of them before Hal, and three before Ben. “ Young gentlemen,” said he, “ I believe your uniforms would come to about three guineas apiece. Now I will lay out this money for you just as you please. Hal, what say you ? ”

“ Why, sir,” Hal replied, “ a greatcoat is a good thing, to be sure ; and there would be some money to spare after paying for it, would there not ? ”

“Yes, my dear; five-and-twenty shillings,” said Mr. Gresham.

“ Five-and-twenty shillings,” repeated Hal ; “ I could buy and do a great many things with five-and-twenty shillings ; but then, I must go without the uniform if I have the greatcoat ? ”

“ Certainly,” said his uncle.

“Ah, uncle,” said Hal, sighing, “if you would not be displeased, I choose the uniform.”

“ I want you to choose whatever you like best,” responded Mr. Gresham.