Nelly began to understand how it was that Dick had found Pride such a pleasant companion.

"Yes," continued the deceiver, leaning through the open window, on the sill of which he rested his arms, "you scorn that poor wretched Parade, that screams 'Ain't I fine?' to each passer-by, as if seeking to attract vulgar notice. Independent of others, you can stand by yourself; you have won Content, you prize it, you deserve it; but has it never struck your mind, Nelly, how difficult it may prove for you to keep it?"

"No," replied Nelly, caressing her bird; "I shall never give my favourite away."

"But your favourite may take wing and depart. Do you expect Content to remain in this small cottage, with all the free air to soar in?"

Nelly looked uneasy and anxious, and pressed her bird closer to her heart.

"It is the nature of birds to mount aloft. Trust me, Nelly, Content will not linger long here while he has unrestrained use of his wings."

"I could not bear to lose him!" cried Nelly.

"To save you that pain," said Pride, watching closely her face as he spoke, "see what I have brought for you here!" and he raised and placed on the sill of the window the gilded cage of Ambition.

"Oh, what a splendid, magnificent cage!" cried poor simple Nelly, suspecting no evil; "and did you really intend it for me?"

"See how ready I am to forgive and forget," said Pride, with a wicked, mocking smile, as he saw the guileless child lay her hand on the poisoned gift; "you have spoken against me, tried to drive me away—nay, at this very moment, I believe, you would not suffer me to enter your door—and yet I bring you this cage that you may never lose your Content; that you may see it grow greater and greater, and never fly from your home!"

"You are very good," began Nelly, and stopped short; she was startled at the sound of her own words.

"Yes, I am very good, am I?" laughed Pride, as he turned away from the window, and then began to stalk down the hill, muttering to himself as he walked, "Ay, she will think me very good, doubtless, when she sees—as she will see before morning—her beautiful, her cherished Content gasping and swelling in the agonies of death!" and as in thought he enjoyed his barbarous triumph, how hideous grew the dark features of Pride.

But the wicked one was blowing the trumpet of victory before the battle had been won! Nelly, indeed, looked with admiration and pleasure upon the glittering cage, and was about to place her favourite within it, when a thought arrested her hand. "My mother has warned us very often to have nothing to do with Pride; Duty has told me again and again that nowhere upon earth could I find a more dangerous companion than he. Ought I to accept this gift? is it suitable, is it right, to take a present from one whom I dare not invite to enter my cottage? Oh, surely I have done wrong in listening with such pleasure to his flattering words! What should I do now; what would Duty counsel me to do? I will return to him his beautiful cage, and keep nothing, however charming, that ever belonged to Pride!"

Catching up the tempting gift, Nelly hastened out of her cottage and saw Pride descending the hill.

"Pride! Pride!" she called out as loudly as she could. The dark one pretended not to hear, and only quickened his steps.

"Oh, how shall I ever overtake him," thought lame Nelly; and again she called, but in vain, while she followed as fast as she could.

"Had I not better keep and use the cage, since it is so hard to return it?" thought Nelly. Inclination bade her go back, and imprison Content within the glittering bars; but the recollection of Duty was strong, and exerting her utmost efforts, the child succeeded in overtaking Pride when he had almost reached brook Bother.

"Oh, take this back," gasped the panting Nelly; "it is fine and tempting, I own, but Duty would not allow me to keep it."

"You don't mean to insult me by returning my gift?" exclaimed Pride, in a tone of fierce disappointment.

"I must do what is right," said Nelly, though frightened by his threatening scowl; "take back your cage of Ambition, I dare give it no place in my home!"

"Then—there, let it go!" thundered Pride; and snatching up the poisoned cage, he sent it whirling round and round through the air till it fell splashing into brook Bother! "I only wish that I could send you after it!" he exclaimed, and gnashing his teeth with disappointment and fury, Pride rushed away from the spot.

Little Nelly returned up the hill at a much slower pace than that at which she had descended it. Ere she had gone half-way a bright silver wing gleamed through the air, and Content alighted on her shoulder. Perched there, the sweet bird poured forth so loud and joyous a lay that one might fancy that he knew the danger from which he had so narrowly escaped, and was aware of the fact which so many, by bitter experience, have learned, that Content must be poisoned and perish if placed in the gilded cage of Ambition.



CHAPTER XXIV.

A VISIT TO MR. CHEMISTRY.

With her bird still warbling on her shoulder, Nelly bent her steps to the cottage of her sister. Matty had cared little for her society of late, but Duty and Affection had both taught Nelly to keep up all family ties. She was going to tell Matty of her little adventure, but Nelly found her too full of her own troubles to care about anything else.

"Such a provoking thing has happened!" exclaimed Matty, who was seated on a very flimsy chair, which she had purchased from Mr. Fiction. It gave such a loud crack as she leant back upon it, that Nelly expected to see it come to pieces beneath the weight of her sister.

"O Matty, I wish that you would buy better furniture from General Knowledge," cried Nelly; "I do believe that in a few weeks those wretched chairs will be fit for nothing but firewood!"

"I did buy a pair of screens from General Knowledge," cried Matty; "I brought them home several weeks ago, as you perhaps may remember."

"Yes, I recollect," replied Nelly; "they were handsome and valuable screens. One was made of Botany facts, all carved over with leaves and flowers; the other of Biography facts, covered with likenesses of great men. They were really a beautiful pair, but I don't see them now," added Nelly, with an inquiring glance round the room.

"They're lost to me and my heirs for ever!" cried Matty, again tossing herself backwards on her chair, which again gave an ominous creaking.

"How could they be lost?" exclaimed Nelly.

"Stolen—stolen by the robber Forgetfulness," answered Matty; "a regular burglar he is! I neglected to lock my door at night—I never dreamed of any danger—and in came the robber and carried away my pair of beautiful screens."

"How very vexatious," exclaimed Nelly.

"Yes, indeed; where's the use of spending hours upon hours in furnishing, and labouring to carry heavy things over brook Bother and up the steep hill of Puzzle, if Forgetfulness sneak in at last and carry the best goods away."

"What use, indeed," echoed Nelly; "the sad warnings of the misfortunes which have happened to you and poor Lubin from Forgetfulness stealing your facts, and Procrastination robbing him of his hours, must make each of us more careful in guarding our treasures from such thieves."

"If Forgetfulness had only taken one of those worthless chairs instead," sighed Matty; "to think of losing the best facts, and keeping the useless fictions."

"How now—what's the matter?" cried the cheerful voice of Dick, as he entered Matty's cottage with a brisk lively step; "you look as doleful as Miss Folly did just now when I met her with her red cockatoo on her wrist, appearing so disconsolate and sad that I thought her most particular friend, Lady Fashion, must have died of late hours or tight-lacing!"

"Miss Folly disconsolate and sad!" exclaimed Matty; "ah, perhaps she had heard that my poor little cottage had been robbed."

"That was not the cause of her melancholy," said Dick; "I daresay, were the truth to be known, that Miss Folly herself had something to do with the business; for many a day has she been seen in company with Forgetfulness the burglar."

"I'm certain that Folly is perfectly innocent," cried Matty.

"Oh, I don't mean to accuse the fair lady; I only mention what I have heard; you and she may settle the affair between you. But as regards her present vexation, that, Nelly, all lies at your door. It seems that you despised her cockatoo Parade, and would not part with Content in exchange for it. But I've set all matters right; I've taken a fancy to the creature, I've promised to buy it from Folly, and instead of prating for ever, 'Ain't I fine?' I'll teach it to cry, 'Ain't I clever?'"

"And then you'll give it to me!" exclaimed Matty. "There's nothing that I adore like Parade; often and often I've wished to have it. I'm quite astonished that Nelly should prefer that dull, spiritless creature, Content."

"I've done more yet to put Folly into good humour," said Dick, who, though he heartily despised his sister's companion, yet liked to amuse himself sometimes with her airs; "I've invited her to come this evening and see my grand display of fireworks."

"Fireworks! oh, that will be charming!" exclaimed Matty, clapping her hands.

"And I've desired her to bring Pride with her; nothing goes off well without him."

Nelly, who had a disagreeable recollection of her late interview with Pride, looked very grave on hearing of the invitation given to him by her brother.

"Where did you get the fireworks?" asked Matty, who, in her pleasure at the idea of seeing something new, had quite forgotten her loss.

"Where but from Mr. Chemistry? I knew that it was all nonsense in old Learning to say that his goods were not yet for me. Pride and I were laughing half the evening at the sage's old-fashioned notions. I suppose that he thinks that no one can see the world till forced to look at it through spectacles, like himself. 'You need an introduction, indeed!' cried Pride; 'just step up boldly like a man. Mr. Chemistry, with his gases, his retorts, his acids, and his alkalies, will be glad enough to see the colour of your money without making uncivil observations.' Said I, 'Mr. Pride, your advice is good, and I'll act upon it directly.' So off starts I, brave as a lion; plank Patience still lay across brook Bother, but I kicked it right into the stream."

"Oh, why did you do so?" exclaimed Nelly.

"Patience may do well enough for you," replied Dick, "but you see a chap like me doesn't want it. Well, to go on with my story. I found Mr. Chemistry hard at work beside an electric machine, and I stopped some moments to watch the crackling sparks drawn from the whirling glass wheel. At last the old fellow looked up, and saw me with my purse in my hand. 'You're a young student,' says he. 'An old head on young shoulders,' says I, looking as solemn and wise as Mr. Learning himself could do. 'You'll need to undergo a short examination,' says he, 'upon the first principles of my science.' Those words rather took me aback, for I had not counted upon that. 'What's a simple body?' says he, turning over to the first page of a book that was near him. 'A simple body,' says I; 'why, that is my sister Matty, for she's hand and glove with Miss Folly.'"

"O Dick, how could you speak so?" cried Matty.

"I set the old fellow laughing, and then, of course, I got everything my own way. I told him that I did not want science but fireworks, and that I knew that he had them in lots. I wished something that would go hissing, and fizzing, and whizzing, and astonish and dazzle beholders. To make a long story short, I carried off all that I wanted; and I invite you both this evening to see my grand firework display."

"It will be delightful—quite charming," cried Matty; "and my darling Miss Folly to be there!"

"Miss Folly and Pride too," said Dick; "but what makes our Nelly so solemn and grave?" he added, clapping the lame girl on the shoulder.

"O Dick, I should like much—very much—to see your fireworks, but I cannot—indeed, I cannot—go to meet Folly and Pride."

"What nonsense!" exclaimed Dick, impatiently; "if they're good enough company for us, they're surely good enough company for you."

"Both my dear mother and Duty have warned me against such companions; I may not go where they go."

"Stay at home then—no one wants you!" exclaimed Dick, who, puffed up as he was by self-confidence, could not endure the slightest opposition. "Set yourself up for a model child—lame, plain, and stupid as you are."

Poor Nelly's heart swelled as if it would burst at such undeserved rudeness from her brother. She returned, however, no angry word, but silently and quietly quitted the place. Her eyes were so much dimmed by tears, that she could scarcely see her way back to her own little cottage.

"It was a shame in me to speak so to Nelly," exclaimed Dick, who repented of his unkind speech almost as soon as he had uttered it.

"You had better tell her so," said Matty, who, though frivolous and careless, was not an ill-natured girl.

Dick turned to follow Nelly, and would doubtless have made all things smooth with his sister, had he not met dark Pride at the door.

Ah, dear reader, have you never been stopped by Pride when going to beg forgiveness of one to whom you knew that you had done a wrong, and especially when that injured party was younger and less clever than yourself?

Dick would not demean himself, as he called it, in the presence of watchful Pride, by telling his little sister that he was sorry for having hurt her feelings. Pride came to talk about the fireworks, and, in eager conversation with him, thoughtless Dick soon forgot the wound which his overbearing temper had inflicted upon a gentle and loving heart.



CHAPTER XXV.

A LESSON.

Evening was coming on. Poor Nelly sat sad and alone in the parlour of her little cottage. She had seen little of Dick since the morning; and when they had accidentally met, he had not uttered one word of regret for his unkindness. Indeed, his manner had been so careless, that it appeared that what had passed so lately between them had quite gone out of his mind. Nelly tried to forgive and forget, but her spirit was sad and low. Even Content seemed to droop his wing, and would scarcely give even a chirp.

Nelly felt also—as what girl of her age would not feel!—being shutout from the merry little party that were going to enjoy the fireworks. The display, on account of the direction of the wind, was to be close in front of Matty's cottage, instead of that of Dick; and as this dwelling, as we know, adjoined Nelly's, the lame girl from her little window could have but an imperfect view, and would lose all the general effect.

"Perhaps," thought poor Nelly, "I have been needlessly strict after all; I have been a little too particular in doing what I thought that duty might require. I have lost a great deal of pleasure, and I have offended my own dear brother. Everything has seemed gloomy since the morning—even my bird will not sing. Ah, how glad I am that my mother will soon return. I shall never doubt what I ought to do when I have her dear voice to guide me; and I am sure that when she is here, Content will warble from morning till night."

"What, Nelly, here all alone?" said Lubin, putting his round, good-humoured face in at the door.

Nelly only looked up and smiled, for at that moment she could not speak; and her smile was so sad, that Lubin came in and seated himself at her side.

"Why, you have been crying, Nelly!" he said. "What is the matter with you, dear? Has Forgetfulness robbed you of your choicest facts, or Procrastination—the sly rogue!—stolen your hours, or have you dropped some nice little purchase of yours into the muddy waters of Bother?"

Nelly shook her head in reply to each question. "I have vexed Dick," she answered at last, "by refusing to join his party at the firework display, because he has invited Pride and Miss Folly."

"I daresay that you did quite right," observed Lubin; "though it's rather hard upon you to have to give up the fireworks and fun. You'll hardly see anything from your window. Come to my cottage opposite; there you will have a good view of it all."

"I would rather remain quietly here, dear Lubin; with many thanks to you for the offer. I have no heart for amusement this evening, and would not wish Dick to see me watching, as if by stealth, the fireworks which I would not go openly to view." As Nelly spoke, she could not prevent two large tears, which had been gathering beneath her lashes, from overflowing her eyes.

Lubin, lazy sluggard as he was, yet was a kind-hearted boy, and would do a good turn for any one, provided it gave him small trouble. "I'll stay with you, Nelly," he said, kissing the tear from her cheek; "it will be better for me, you know, to keep clear of Folly and Pride." Nelly squeezed his hand to express her thanks. "There is Miss Folly approaching already," continued Lubin. "One might know her coming were she a mile off, by the sound of her jabbering voice."

Lubin rose and went to the window to look out. "Yes; there is Miss Folly—peacock plume, balloon dress, and all; and she has a red cockatoo on her wrist. Black-browed Pride is behind her. Matty and Dick are running to meet them."

Nelly did not go to the window; but she heard the voices without, which sounded distinctly through the still evening air.

"I wonder if it will ever get dark enough for the lovely, delightful fireworks. I've been wishing all the afternoon that I could push on the sun double-quick to the west. It's always dark when one wants it to be light, and light when one wants it to be dark." My readers will scarcely need to be told that these words were spoken by Folly.

"I'm glad that you've brought your cockatoo," said Dick; "you know that I'm going to buy him."

"He's worth his weight in gold—he is; pretty creature!—just listen to him now!" And Nelly could hear the harsh, grating voice of Parade: "Pretty Poll! ain't I fine? ain't I fine?"

"I'm going to teach him something else," observed Dick. "Just let me have him here for a few minutes. The fireworks are ready prepared, but we must wait till the twilight grows darker. In the meantime, I will amuse myself by giving Master Cockatoo a lesson in talking."

"You'll soon make him say what you like," observed Pride.

"Isn't it a beautiful bird?" cried Matty.

"They are gathering round the cockatoo, Nelly," said Lubin, who was still at the window. "Only Miss Folly, with her painted face and goggle eyes, is peeping at the preparations for the fireworks."

The last faint tinge of red had faded from the sky. Deeper and deeper grew the gathering shades. Lubin could scarcely distinguish the features of the group that were amusing themselves with Parade.

"Now, my good cockatoo," began Dick, standing in front of his red-feathered pupil, "you know 'variety is charming,' says the proverb. We may like to hear you say the same thing over nine hundred and ninety-nine times; but when a question is asked for the thousandth time, we begin to wish for a little variation. Suppose now, just for a change, you say, 'Ain't I clever? ain't I clever?'"

"Ain't I fine?—ain't I fine?" screamed Parade.

"Fine? Yes, we know that you are; dark as it is growing, we see that you are; it's a fact which no one will dispute. But just try now—"

Dick had not time to conclude his sentence. Bang!—crash!—there was a loud deafening noise, as if a cannon had been suddenly fired at their ears. Nelly started in terror to her feet, and rushed to the window to see what had happened—frightened by the shrieks and cries which succeeded the terrible explosion, that had smashed every pane of glass in the cottages! The whole air was full of thick smoke, through which Nelly beheld Miss Folly, with her flounces all on fire, rushing wildly into the dwelling of Dick, which was just opposite to that of Matty.

"O Lubin! something terrible has happened. Plunge the table-cover into that pailful of water—let us fly to save—oh, help! help!"

Back again through Dick's doorway rushed screaming Miss Folly, after having set fire to his curtains within. Happily she was met by Lubin and Nelly, who threw over her flaming, flaring dress the damp folds of the dripping table-cover. She struggled fiercely to get away from them, as though she thought that they meant to smother her; and it was with the utmost difficulty that the two succeeded in throwing Folly on the ground, and putting out the flames entirely, by rolling her round and round in the mire.

Matty's screams of alarm mingled with those of Miss Folly; and not without cause, for the explosion had set fire to the thatch of her cottage; and through the windows of Dick's came a terrible fiery glow—his furniture was all in a blaze. The whole scene around was as light as day in the fierce red glare of the burning.

Happily assistance was near—very near. Duty and Affection had been ascending the hill to pay an evening visit to Nelly, when they had been startled by the noise of the explosion, the shrieks, and then the sight of the blazing thatch. Without a moment's delay they had shouted for assistance to a party of men who were going homewards at the close of a day's work. A cart full of empty barrels happened to be passing at the same time, and its contents were instantly seized upon for use. The labourers, incited and directed by the sisters, rushed down at once to the brook, thankful that water was so nigh. Happily there was no wind to fan the fierce conflagration, a heavy mist was beginning to rise, and strong and willing hands were at work to put out the fire. Duty and Affection were everywhere—encouraging the men, directing their efforts, nay, labouring themselves with an energy and courage which filled all beholders with surprise. Never could Nelly forget that night. The rushing to and fro—the crackling of the flames—the hissing of the water thrown upon them—the volumes of smoke that arose, the cries, the screams, the hallooing—then the shout of triumph when at length the fire was completely subdued.

Nelly's chief alarm was on account of her brother and sister. While the tumult yet raged around, she rushed, guided by Matty's screams, to a spot where she found the poor girl trembling in an agony of terror.

"Oh, Matty, are you injured?" exclaimed Nelly.

"I don't know—I can't tell," sobbed Matty, who was much more frightened than hurt, though her hair, and even her eyebrows, had been singed by the explosion of the fireworks.

"And Dick—poor Dick—is he safe?" cried Nelly, glancing anxiously around.

"There he is—lying on the ground!" exclaimed Lubin, who had just discovered his brother stretched senseless upon the earth, having been struck on the head by a large piece of wood at the time of the explosion.

"Oh, I hope and trust that he is not killed!" exclaimed Nelly, running to him, in bitter distress.

"Not killed, only stunned—see, he is opening his eyes," said Lubin, who was now on his knees, supporting his brother in his arms. "If Matty would only assist us, we could carry him into your cottage, Nelly, out of this noise and confusion."

Tenderly the three young Desleys raised their poor wounded brother, and carried him into the cottage. Affection soon followed, to attend to his hurts and bind up his bleeding brow—for Affection is a nurse of great skill.

The fire was out—the danger over; Duty rewarded the labourers, and the cottages were left to the children and their two faithful friends in need. Duty and Affection remained through all the dark hours of that trying night, soothing Matty, encouraging Lubin, cheering the heart of poor Nelly. Even when obliged to leave for awhile, the sisters paid repeated visits to the cottage, bearing with them everything needful. Nelly now found, indeed, what it was to have such friends as Duty and Affection.

Dick's injury had brought on brain-fever. For three days and nights Nelly scarcely quitted her brother. All his unkindness was quite forgotten, and she would not have left her place at his side for ought that the world could give. Dick had been severely, though not dangerously, hurt. It would be some time, the doctor said, before he would be fit for any exertion. Books must be kept from his sight; he must not, for weeks to come, be allowed to visit the town of Education. But his life had been happily spared; gradually his strength would return. Nelly did not like to tell the poor invalid that all the furniture of his cottage, which he had regarded with so much satisfaction, had been destroyed by the fire; nor that poor Matty's thatch had been burned, and her pretty white wall all blackened and scorched by the flame.

Dear reader! should you ever be tempted to harbour Pride, on account of a well-furnished head or a beautiful face—oh, remember how soon the fairest features may be made unsightly, the most talented mind rendered feeble and weak, by a sudden accident or fever. The labours of years may be swept away—the highest powers rendered useless; and one whom all admire to-day, may be but an object of pity to-morrow.



CHAPTER XXVI.

HEARING THE TRUTH.

It was not until Dick was able to sit up, propped by cushions, in an arm-chair, that Nelly could be persuaded by Lubin to make a little expedition with him to buy some things needful for their mother, whose arrival in two days was expected. Lubin liked to do nothing by himself; he would not have taken the trouble to cross brook Bother unless a sister had been at his side; and poor Matty had positively refused to go, as she disliked showing herself to strangers while her hair and eyebrows were so sadly disfigured by the fire.

"Please, Matty," said Nelly, before she set out, "see that poor Dick wants nothing during my absence. Perhaps you would sit beside him. But, pray, say nothing to him that can possibly vex or excite him; you know that he is still very weak, and the fever might possibly return."

Matty agreed to play the nurse for an hour, and with a slow and lingering step she accordingly went to the cottage in which her brother was staying.

It was sad to see the young, bright, active boy placed like an aged man in an arm-chair, his cheek, so lately glowing with health, almost as pale as the pillow upon which it was resting. Dick's eye was, however, still bright, and he had his old playfulness of manner, though his tone was more feeble than usual, as he exclaimed, on the entrance of his sister, "Why, Matty, you and I look for all the world as if we had been in the wars! I with this bandage across my brow, you with your hair cropped close, and your eyebrows all singed off; you can't think how funny you look!"

Poor Matty hid her face with her hands, and was ready to burst into tears.

"Oh, don't take it to heart!" cried Dick; "hair will soon grow again, you know. I wonder that your friend Miss Folly has not helped you to an elegant wig."

"She is no friend of mine!" exclaimed Matty, with vehemence. "Do you not know that it was Folly who caused the explosion? She thought, like an idiot as she is, that it would be fun to put a match to the fireworks when all our backs were turned, and make us start with surprise. It was her meddling that caused all this mischief and misery;" and again poor disfigured Matty hid her face in her hands.

"Then I hope that you'll cut her from this day forth," observed Dick.

"She has cut us," replied Matty, quickly. "Have you not heard how her flounces were all in a blaze, and how she rushed about as if mad, into a cottage and out again, till Nelly and Lubin knocked her down just in time to save her from being quite burned?"

"I have heard nothing," said Dick, raising himself on his chair, with an expression of curiosity and interest; "you know that Nelly has been my nurse, and she would hardly speak a word for fear lest she should put me into a fever."

Matty was eager to impart all her knowledge, quite regardless of Nelly's parting warning, and began to talk so fast that Dick could not help being reminded of poor Miss Folly.

"Well, you shall hear everything now. Folly was knocked down, or pulled down, as I said, and then rolled about in the mud, till you could hardly have distinguished her head from her feet, or her peacock's plume from a cow's tail. And very thankful and very much delighted she ought to have been, for, if she had been quite choked with mire, it would have been better than burning alive!"

"A painful choice," observed Dick.

"But she was not choked to death," continued Matty; "she was not hurt the least bit; and yet—would you believe it?—Miss Folly is in a most furious rage against those who saved her. She declares that she ought to have a lawsuit against Nelly and Lubin to recover the value of her clothes, and another to get them punished for knocking her into the mud; and she has promised a thousand times never to come near one of our family again."

"I hope," said Dick, with a smile, "that for once Miss Folly may keep her promise. But what has become of her red cockatoo?"

"Ah, there's another great grievance!" cried Matty. "The bird must have been frightened by the explosion; and no wonder, for a terrible sight it was, and a horrible noise it made. Parade has flown off, no one knows whither; and though papers and placards about him have been put up in every direction, offering no end of rewards to whoever will bring him back, the bird is not to be found. Folly says, that poor innocent I must have hidden him somewhere from view; but I am sure that I have not even a guess whither the gaudy creature has fled!"

"Had you hidden him," observed Dick Desley, "Parade would soon have betrayed you by screaming out 'Ain't I fine?' And what has become of Pride?"

"Some say," replied Matty, "that he got a great blow on the nose at the time of the explosion; others say that he was not at all injured by it. He certainly did not help Duty to put out the fire. All that I know of Pride is, that he came to our villas this morning, and walked straight up to yours, I suppose from its being the one which he had been most accustomed to visit. I saw him from my window, standing awhile with folded arms, gloomily surveying the place; he then shrugged his shoulders, said, 'What a wreck!' and instantly stalked away."

"What did he mean by exclaiming 'What a wreck?'" asked Dick, with a look of surprise.

"He meant your poor cottage, of course," replied Matty; "all its furniture burned and destroyed."

"How—what?" exclaimed Dick in a startled tone; "the fire was not in my cottage at all; the explosion took place by yours."

"I know that too well," sighed poor Matty; "but Folly rushed straight into your home, blazing away like a rocket, then rushed out again, but not before she had set your curtains on fire."

"Do you mean that all my furniture is burned!" exclaimed Dick, striking his fist with violence upon a table that was near him.

"Burned to a cinder," replied Matty; "there's scarcely anything left but the grates."

"The carpet—the splendid carpet destroyed too?" cried poor Dick, starting upright on his feet.

"Great holes burned in every part, and all the dates as black as charcoal!"

Dick sank back on his seat with a groan.

"The beautifully papered walls," continued Matty, "not fit to be looked at now; the fine furniture-facts mere charred wood, or little heaps of gray ashes!"

"And mother coming back the day after to-morrow!" exclaimed Dick, with a burst of anguish. "And doubtless Mr. Learning will come with her, bringing the crown of Success for which I have laboured so hard! I must go at once to the town," he cried wildly; "I must work, work hard till they appear!" And springing from his chair he made an effort to walk; but the limbs, once so active and strong, would no longer support his weight, and, overcome with vexation, Dick tottered back into his seat.

"I can't do it," he cried; "I can't go! Oh, misery and disappointment! Leave me, Matty, leave me; remain no longer with a wretched boy who has lost everything that he valued!"

Matty was frightened at the vehement storm of passion which her indiscretion had raised; and being quite unable to speak a word of comfort to her brother, she crept out of the cottage, feeling more unhappy than when she had entered it.



CHAPTER XXVII.

A BRAVE EFFORT.

"Oh! why should this be—why should this be?" groaned Dick, as soon as he found himself alone; "why should I, the genius of the family, suddenly find myself reduced to the state of the veriest dunce? Why should one wretched accident take from me more than Matty lost by Forgetfulness, or Lubin by Procrastination? Why should I have a cottage so ruined and empty—I who had made its furniture my glory—I who had worked so hard and so well?"

It is a wise thing for those in trouble to try and search for the reason of their trials. No sorrow is sent without a cause. Dick sat long with his brow leaning on his hand, thinking, and thinking, and seeking as well as his poor, languid mind would let him, to trace out his past career.

Why had he worked so hard—why had he worked so well? Was it indeed for the sake of his mother, or from regard to Mr. Learning, or because he had been taught by Duty in all things to do his best? Dick looked round upon Nelly's little room; every article there reminded him of patient perseverance, of steady application, not because labour had been easy and pleasant, but because she had felt it to be right. Dick, who was a very intelligent boy, could not but see, now that reflection was forced upon him, that he had spent his hours and furnished his cottage only to please and enrich himself, to triumph over his brother and sisters, to gain the silver crown of Success, and to gratify evil Pride! Yes, Pride had urged him to every effort: Pride had made him resolve that no cottage should be as splendidly furnished as his own; Pride had dogged his steps, directed his labours, had introduced him to mischievous Folly, and, worst of all, had made him look down on his best friends and nearest relations, and insult his gentle little sister! Ah! this was the bitterest reflection of all!

"How Pride used to make me laugh at the laziness of Lubin, the vanity of Matty, the lameness of my dear little Nelly, though that was no fault of her own. I remember now but too well that it was through him that I insulted the sister whose talents might be less than mine, but whose virtues should have been my example. It was Pride who made me ashamed to ask forgiveness, or express regret for words as unjust as they were unkind. Yes, this sore trial must have been sent to warn me that he who takes Pride as his bosom companion will sooner or later repent of having done so. What Pride can offer is but a sorry exchange for the peace, the harmony, the love which it seems his delight to destroy! Was it Pride who nursed me through my illness? Was it Pride who so gently bore with my wayward humours; who prepared the cooling draught for my fevered lips, and never seemed weary of watching beside me all through the long dreary night? O Nelly, not one word of reproach did I ever hear from your tongue; but my heart reproaches me the more for having mocked at your tender counsels, given way to impatient temper, and thrown away your love as a worthless thing at the bidding of haughty Pride!"

"Did I not hear my own name?" said a voice at the door, and the beams of the setting sun threw a dark shadow across the threshold. The next moment Pride would have entered, but Dick waved him back with a gesture of command.

"What—do you not know your old friend?" cried Pride.

"I know my old tempter," said the boy, with emotion. "Pride, I have lately suffered much, but I have not suffered in vain; I have lost much, but I have gained something also—a knowledge of myself, and of you! Here let us part, and for ever."

"This is some delusion of a fevered brain!" cried Pride, beginning to look very angry.

"No, my fever has passed away, and with it all my vain delusions. To think myself superior to all others was a delusion; to think that Pride would make me happy was a delusion: to think that a well-furnished head could make up for a haughty and selfish heart, that was the worst delusion of all!"

Pride still lingered, unwilling to depart, or to give up one whom he had so long regarded as his slave; but the sound of footsteps was now heard, and Lubin and Nelly appeared at the door. The little girl cast an uneasy, frightened glance at Pride, who scowled darkly on her in return. But Duty and Affection, the beautiful sisters, were accompanying the children to their home, and Pride, bold as he was, shrank back abashed at their calm, majestic presence.

Dick, though languid and weak, nerved himself now for a great and painful effort. He had never been accustomed to own himself wrong, and the thought of doing so, not privately but openly, in the presence of so many witnesses, brought the warm blood to his pallid cheek, and made his heart throb with excitement. But he knew no better way of proving to Pride that his empire indeed was over; no better way of making amends to Nelly for past unkindness and scorn. Raising himself, therefore, and supporting his weak frame by grasping the table beside him, he uttered these words, in a clear and distinct, though somewhat tremulous tone:—"Nelly, before all, I ask your forgiveness for past unkind and foolish conduct, and thank you for the tender care which I have so little deserved; and I also ask Lubin's pardon"—here Dick turned towards his brother—"for having often provoked him by rude and mocking words."

Nelly's only reply was running forward and throwing her arms around Dick; Lubin warmly grasped his hand; Pride, grinding his teeth with suppressed fury, glared for a moment at the three, then, turning round with something like a yell, rushed away from the spot. Let us hope that he never returned!

"Well done, nobly done, brave boy!" exclaimed Duty, coming forward, the red rays of the setting sun streaming upon her glorious figure, and her face, which was bright with loveliness exceeding all mortal beauty. It was the first time that the wounded boy had ever received her praise; and how sweet fell its accents from her lips, those lips that falsehood never had stained!

"We were coming to see you," said gentle Affection, "and met these our young friends on the way."

"Coming to see me!" cried the invalid; "poor, helpless, ruined sufferer that I am!"

"Nay," said Affection, with a beaming smile, "speak not so gloomily of your state. I bring you the refreshing draught of Hope, to revive your spirits and restore your strength!"

As Affection spoke she poured out from a phial into a glass a sparkling effervescing liquid. Dick took it eagerly from her hand, and as he drank it as if drinking in life, Affection continued thus to address him:—"You will soon recover from the effects of your accident, and be able with new vigour and energy to refurnish your own little cottage. You will easily make up for lost time; indeed, the loss which you have sustained is not so great as has been represented. Look with a hopeful eye on the future, with a thankful eye on the past; he cannot be very ignorant who is instructed by Duty, nor very poor who has at his command all the treasures of Affection!"



CHAPTER XXVIII.

EXPECTATION.

Very bright and beautiful was the day on which Dame Desley returned to her family. The sun rose in the morning in full glory, all surrounded with rosy clouds. The breath of the air was soft and sweet as that of balmy Spring, and Autumn could only be known by the splendid mantle of yellow, red, and brown, which she had thrown over the trees and bushes. Even brook Bother itself seemed to sparkle and dance in the sunbeams, and the white houses of Education reflected the cheerful light.

Nelly rose early, her heart bounding with delight, and made everything ready in her cottage to welcome the mother whom she loved. As she was busily rubbing up some of her furniture-facts till they shone as brightly as mirrors, poor Lubin joined his sister, looking disconsolate and dull.

"Nelly," said he, rubbing his forehead, "I'm afraid that my cottage is not well furnished. I've no table, and scarcely a chair, my carpet is all in a muddle, and I'm afraid that my dear mother will be disappointed—even disgusted."

Nelly did not know what to reply, so she only shook her head gravely.

"Do you think, Nelly, that I'd have time to rush off to Education this morning and bring back a table, bed, and a couple of chairs on my back?"

Though Nelly was really sorry for her brother, she could hardly help smiling at the idea of fat little Lubin puffing, panting, and blowing, under such a formidable burden. "I fear that you have no time to-day," she replied, "for even one journey to the town of Education. We expect our dear mother early, and we all, except poor Dick, who is not strong enough yet, are going to meet her on the road."

Lubin rubbed his forehead harder than before. "Had it not been for that thief Procrastination!" he exclaimed,—

"And Amusement Bazaar," suggested Nelly.

"Oh," exclaimed Lubin, half ready to cry, "what a stupid donkey I have been!"

"I wish," said the pitying Nelly, "that we were allowed to help each other more. Not that I have much furniture to spare, but how gladly would I give of that little!"

"That's impossible," sighed poor Lubin; "and even if you could stuff my empty cottage with a dozen or so of your facts, that would not hide the horrible DUNCE which Mr. Learning scrawled on my wall. To think of mother's seeing it! ugh! how dreadfully shocked she will be!" and Lubin gave his forehead an actual bang, as if to punish it for his own neglect.

"Well, Lubin dear," said Nelly in a soothing tone, "we may regret the mistakes of the past, but let them only make us more anxious to do more with our future hours. You will begin to work hard to-morrow, and carry away a good store from Arithmetic or General Knowledge."

"I believe the first thing that I should do," observed the rueful boy, "is to master that ladder of Spelling."

"True, you will never get on without that," said Nelly. "I daresay with patience and pains you will get a well-furnished house after all."

Poor Lubin looked only half comforted; but hearing a slow, feeble step, he hastened with Nelly to support Dick, and lead him to his comfortable arm-chair.

"So mother is coming to-day, and you are all going to meet her," said the pale boy, with a languid smile.

"You will wait and welcome her here, dear brother," said Nelly.

"No," replied Dick, with quiet sadness; "I will await her in my own poor cottage, it is there that she expects to see me. Will you kindly support me thither? I have just enough strength to cross the sward."

"But—" began Lubin, and stopped short.

"Why should you go there," said Nelly, "when you are so welcome to remain where you are? and—"

"I know what you are thinking," observed Dick; "you think that I will not be able to bear looking on the change and the ruin. But it is better, Nelly, that I should see all. I have needed the bitter lesson. I would rather go thither at once, and accustom myself to the sight before my dear mother arrives."

As the boy was evidently in earnest, Lubin and Nelly made no further objections. Dick, supported by them on either side, soon crossed over to his cottage, and was placed in one of the chairs which had been brought out of his own little kitchen, that room having quite escaped the effects of the fire. Dick looked sadly but calmly around him.

"See," said Nelly, "matters are not so bad after all. The curtains are gone, and some of the facts, but the grate, fire-irons, and fender are as good as ever, they only want a little rubbing up. A great part of the carpet is safe, and all your purchases from Grammar's Bazaar happened to be stowed in the kitchen, so you see that they have not suffered at all. When you get a little strength, dear Dick, you will soon make everything right; a few new purchases will render your cottage as beautiful as it was before the fire."

Dick smiled, and pressed the hand of his sister.

Matty now rushed in, all in a flutter. "I'm so glad that you have not started!" she exclaimed. "I could not have endured not to have been amongst the first to welcome my mother!"

"Go then, go all," said Dick.

"I do not like to leave you alone here," observed Nelly, lingering by the chair of her brother.

"I shall not be dull," replied Dick; "the bird Content is singing in your home, and I shall listen here to his strains. I should rather be alone for awhile; there is little chance now that my quiet will be disturbed either by Pride or Miss Folly."

So Lubin and his sisters departed, Dick remaining behind, rather thoughtful than sad. He was a changed boy from what he had been at the time when he had bounded over the brook, bearing the ladder of Spelling aloft; or when he had laughed at Lubin for his struggle with Alphabet, the strong little dwarf. Dick had become weak, so he could feel for weakness; an accident had swept away the best part of his wealth, so that he had a fellow-feeling for the poor. Dick had become more gentle, more humble, more kind; that which he had deemed a terrible misfortune, that which had laid him on a bed of sickness, had been in truth one of the happiest events of his life. He had gained much more than he had lost.

Dick sat for some time in eager expectation of his mother's arrival, listening to every noise, and keeping his watchful eye on the road which he could see through the open door. At last there was a sound as of advancing steps and eager voices; weak as he still was, Dick sprang to his feet, and in another minute, to his great delight, he was clasped to the heart of his mother.



CHAPTER XXIX.

EMPTY AND FURNISHED.

"You find the poor cottage in a sad state," was Dick's melancholy observation, as his mother, after the first loving greeting, seated herself at his side, holding his thin hand in her own, and looking tenderly at his pale features.

"O mother, if you had only seen it before the fire!" exclaimed Nelly; "it was beautiful—quite beautiful—so much better furnished than any of ours!"

"It will be beautiful again," said Dame Desley, cheerfully; "my boy only wants a little more Time-money when his strength is perfectly restored. And I can see," she added, rising and opening the back-door, through which she could view the garden, "that great pains were once taken here."

"I have not been able to attend to it since my illness," said Dick; "but as soon as I am able to set to work again, I will try to get all into order."

"I must now go and examine the other cottages," said Dame Desley; "I noticed as I came here that the wall of Matty's had been scorched, and that the new thatch which has been put on does not look quite so well as the old; but I hear that the inside has sustained no harm, and I shall now examine with pleasure the furniture bought by my child."

As Dame Desley was proceeding to the next cottage, which, as we all know, was that of Lubin, whom should she meet but Mr. Learning, cane in hand, and spectacles on nose, with a white box under his arm.

"Oh, what on earth brings him here just now!" exclaimed Lubin to Nelly, ready to stamp with vexation; "as if it were not bad enough to have mother examining my poor empty cottage, without having him to look on all the time through those horrid spectacles, that will magnify every defect. Just hear now how mother is thanking him for all that he has done for her children, and see what a sly meaning glance he is casting at me, looking through his glasses, as much as to say—'There's one stupid dunce of a fellow; I could never make anything of him.'"

"You will do better in future," whispered Nelly, as she went forward to shake hands with Mr. Learning, who benignantly smiled at his pupil.

"We will go in here first," said Dame Desley; "Lubin, dear, come to my side."

The poor boy would gladly have kept back, and had some thoughts of running away down the hill, so grievously was he ashamed that his mother and guardian should see what little use he had made of his hours. He dared not, however, disobey; so with Dame Desley on one side, and stately Mr. Learning on the other, feeling like a culprit between two constables, he entered his ill-furnished cottage.

Dame Desley looked to the right hand, and then she looked to the left; and the longer she looked the longer grew her face, and the graver the expression which it wore. There was a terribly awkward silence. Nelly felt quite uncomfortable, and Lubin stood twisting the button on his jacket, and wishing himself up to the neck in brook Bother, or anywhere but at home. At last the mother spoke, but her accents were those of displeasure.

"What can you have done, stupid boy, with all your minutes and hours?"

"I gave some to my shopping—" whimpered Lubin.

"Humph!" growled Mr. Learning.

"Very few, I fear," said Dame Desley.

"Procrastination picked my pocket of some, and—and—"

"I suspect that the frequenters of Amusement's Bazaar could tell us where the best part have gone," said Mr. Learning with freezing severity. "You have thrown away your minutes and your hours upon balls, ninepins, marbles, and lollypops."

What could poor Lubin reply? He knew that the accusation was too true. His distress reached its height on his seeing that the eyes of his mother were resting on the big DUNCE, which stared in black letters from the wall.

"Oh, that I could pummel Mr. Learning for writing it up there!" thought Lubin.

"I wonder that you do not blush to look at that!" exclaimed Dame Desley, in high displeasure. "This very day you must be off to Mr. Reading's, and get a respectable paper to cover that shameful wall."

"And don't forget the ladder of Spelling," cried Mr. Learning; "there's nothing to be done without that."

Nelly, who saw that Lubin's face was growing as red as the feathers of Parade, now timidly came forward to try and draw attention from the unhappy sluggard. "Dear mother, I hope that you remember that you have other cottages to see," she said, placing her hand in that of Dame Desley.

"And I hope that I shall find them very different indeed from this," said the disappointed parent, as she crossed over the way to Matty's.

The little owner ran on in front, with mingled feelings of hope and fear. She knew that her home was not empty; that the furniture looked very gay; but she could not help suspecting that her mother, and yet more the sage Mr. Learning, might think some of it tawdry and worthless. Flinging the door wide open to admit her guests, Matty ran in so hurriedly to put a piece of furniture straight, that her foot was caught in her unfastened carpet, and down she fell on her nose.

"My dear child, I hope that you're not hurt," cried Dame Desley.

Matty jumped up, rubbed her nose, and said that it was "nothing," though looking extremely annoyed at such a beginning to the survey.

"What a hole you have torn in the carpet!" cried her mother. "Why, it is not fastened down with nails; you must be in danger of tripping every minute."

"Such a carpet!" exclaimed Learning, with contempt, kicking it up with his heel.

"And what a paper!" cried the mother; "as shabby as it is gaudy, and all with the damp showing through."

"But I have some things very pretty indeed," said Matty, in rather a petulant tone; for she could not bear that any fault should be found with her beautiful cottage. "I'm sure that the porcelain jars on the mantelpiece are fit for the palace of a princess; and just look at my gilded French mirror, and my elegant tambourine."

Dame Desley appeared by no means as much delighted at these fine things as her daughter had expected; and Mr. Learning dryly observed, "I see that you have troubled Mr. Arithmetic, the ironmonger, as little as Mr. History, the carpet manufacturer; and however pretty your fancy articles may be, I must just venture to remark that a poker is more useful than porcelain, a mat than a gilded French mirror, and that, though a tambourine may be charming, it can't supply the place of a table."

"Your furniture also looks so light and fragile," observed Dame Desley, "that I should be almost afraid to use it."

"Oh, it does exceedingly well," cried the mortified Matty, tossing herself down on a chair, to show that her mother was mistaken. She had chosen, however, an unfortunate way of displaying the strength of her furniture; the luckless chair gave way with a crash, and Matty came down with a thumping blow—not this time on her nose, but on the back of her head.

More hurt than she had been by her former tumble, and yet more mortified than hurt, the poor child began to cry. Dame Desley and Nelly ran to raise her, while Mr. Learning, grave as he usually was, could hardly refrain from laughing.

"She has quite a bump on her poor head!" cried Nelly. "Dear Matty! what can we do for her?"

"Get me the pink salve from the mantelpiece," sobbed Matty. Her sister hurried to the place as fast as she could.

"Let me see it first," said Dame Desley, examining the little china pot, which was labelled, "FLATTERY SALVE, patronized by the nobility and gentry. Warranted to heal all manner of bruises and sores."

"Where did you get this?" inquired the mother. Matty whimpered out that she had had it from Miss Folly.

"Let Miss Folly keep her own trash to herself!" cried the indignant dame, flinging the little pot out of the window; "that is a most dangerous salve: its effect is often that of injuring the brain, weakening the senses—producing dizziness and delirium! Bring a little cold water, Nelly; that is a far better thing to apply to a bump on the head like this."

"I am afraid," observed Mr. Learning, as the simple remedy was tried with effect, "that Matty, quick and ready a pupil as she is, will have almost as much to do as Lubin before her cottage is really well furnished. She had better at once commence the work of getting rid of the trash; and I should recommend her to make a famous large bonfire of it to celebrate her mother's return."

Poor Matty, who had at first eyed with mingled curiosity and hope the white box under the arm of her guardian—believing that it must contain the silver crown of Success—felt her heart sink at these words; and with drooping head and melancholy mien, she went with her companions to the cottage adjoining.



CHAPTER XXX.

FRUITS OF NEEDLEWORK.

"Now this is what I should call neat—neat, and not gaudy," said Dame Desley, as she stood in the doorway of Nelly's home, and surveyed with a pleased eye the perfect order of the place. "The fire-irons bright, though small—the paper chosen with judgment—everything needful, though there is little to spare—each article in its proper place, and neat and good of its kind." Oh, how delightful to Nelly was the praise which she had fairly earned by self-denying labour!

"Considering that Nelly is lame—that she has never been gifted either with quickness or strength, I have every reason," observed Mr. Learning, "to be satisfied with what she has done."

"And what a beautiful bird; and how tame!" cried Dame Desley, as Content, recognizing a friend, hopped lightly down to her finger.

"That was the gift of my dear friend, Duty," said Nelly.

"A friend whom you cannot prize too much, or follow too closely," observed her mother.

"Here she comes herself!" cried Nelly in joyful surprise, "and sweet Affection behind her! They have doubtless come here to-day to welcome home my dear mother."

The meeting was a very joyous one. Duty and Affection had for many years been the valued friends of Dame Desley.

After the first words of greeting had passed between them, Affection inquired whether the dame had seen the gardens of her daughters, and looked at their needlework plants.

"Not yet, but I am going to examine them," replied the mother.

"Let us all come together!" said Duty.

With a very low bow of respect, Mr. Learning offered his arm to the noble maiden; Affection rested one hand on Dame Desley's, and, smiling, held out the other to Nelly; Lubin and Matty followed behind—the boy somewhat sulky and sad, but the girl with reviving spirits. Matty was a little jealous of the praises which her sister had received; but she expected in the garden, if not in the cottage, to be found far superior to poor, lame Nelly.

The gardens of Nelly and Matty were divided from each other only by a box-hedge, which was scarcely three inches high. The party, though entering from Nelly's back-door, went immediately into the garden of her sister, as Dame Desley thought that it was right to attend first to that of the elder.

Both gardens won a fair meed of praise. Matty, as has before been mentioned, happened to be fond of geographical flowers; and while the arrangement of the two gardens was equally neat and correct, Matty had certainly a larger number of countries and capitals to display.

"I should not wonder," whispered Matty to Lubin, "if I were to win the silver crown of Success after all."

Lubin's only answer was a sigh; for he knew that he had lost all chance of getting the prize.

"And now for the needlework plants," said Dame Desley, approaching the garden-wall.

Every one uttered an exclamation of pleasure on beholding Matty's beautiful creeper. Ripe fruits, with rosy down like that upon the peach, hung on its twining boughs, looking lovelier by contrast with its green and shining leaves. Matty plucked one, and offered it to her mother. The dame quickly removed the rind, and a delicate little bead-purse met her admiring gaze. It was of pink and gold, with tiny tassels to match. Matty pulled another fruit from the bough, and it offered to view a pretty bead-mat, with a pattern of flowers upon it.

"Well, that is a fine plant!" observed Mr. Learning, admiration in his spectacled eyes.

Matty triumphantly squeezed Lubin's arm. "I think that I shall get the prize," she whispered. "I should have been sure of it if that stupid chair had not given me such an unfortunate tumble. How ugly Nelly's plant looks yonder, with its large, coarse, prickly stem; and it grows so close to the ground. I should be ashamed to have such a thing in my garden!"

"Now for Nelly's needlework," said Affection.

The whole party moved on to the spot, when they saw a plant—not beautiful, it must be owned, but with three fruits, as big as pumpkins, resting upon the ground, half covered with large green leaves.

"Shall I pluck one?" said Nelly, modestly.

"Let us see it," replied Mr. Learning.

Nelly stooped, and broke from its stalk the smallest of the fruits. It was so ripe that the rind burst open in her hands, and out dropped a cap as white as snow, with a number of delicate frills all neatly hemmed and gathered. With a smile and a blush, Nelly presented her little offering to her mother, while a murmur of approbation sounded from all around.

"Ah, how useful this will be!" exclaimed Dame Desley; "this fruit is charming indeed!"

"Let us see the others," said Duty, bending forward to gaze.

Again Nelly stooped and raised the ripe fruit; again it burst open in her grasp. She pulled out an apron, very prettily made, with neat little pockets in front!

"The very thing that I have been wanting!" cried the dame, putting it on with pleasure and pride.

"There's more yet to be seen," said Mr. Learning.

The third fruit was so very big, that but for the assistance of both Duty and Affection, Nelly would hardly have known how to manage. It was not quite so ripe as the others, and would not come readily from the thick stalk, and the rind did not burst open as those of the two first had done.

"How can we see what is in it?" cried Matty.

"Something very good is in it, no doubt," said Affection; and Duty, pulling a pair of scissors out of her pocket, soon decided the question. A great hole was made in the rind, and all the party pressed round with curiosity to watch the little girl, who now began slowly to draw out the gray contents of the fruit.

"I say," exclaimed Lubin, "what's that long thing?—it looks for all the world like a sleeve."

"The body is coming after," cried Matty.

Yes, sure enough it was coming, body and skirt and all—a nice, new, warm dress, for Dame Desley to wear through the approaching winter.

When the whole of the huge fruit was emptied, and the gown held up by Affection, there was a general clapping of hands, in admiration of the wonderful plant. Matty alone looked coldly upon it, and observed in a low tone to Lubin, that such a dress as that would certainly never be worn by Lady Fashion.

"Nor made by her most particular friend," laughed Lubin, who had half forgotten his own troubles in Nelly's triumph. "Depend upon it that a sensible dress like that was never stitched by Miss Folly."

"We may congratulate Nelly," said Duty, "upon the success of her Plain-work. I wish that every girl in the land had such a plant in her garden."

"I think that none of us can doubt," observed Mr. Learning, taking the white box from under his arm, "which of our four young friends has made the best use of Time-money—which has best deserved the crown of Success." And opening the box, he took out a most elegant wreath of leaves worked in filigree silver, and made an attempt to place it on the head of the blushing Nelly. But the little girl modestly shrank back.

"Oh, no!" cried Nelly; "it is not for me. It would not be right, it would not be fair, that poor Dick should lose what he had fairly earned, because Folly set his furniture on fire. Lubin can witness, Matty can witness, that his cottage was far better furnished than mine before the accident happened. Indeed the crown ought to be his. I could not bear to deprive him of it."

Duty smiled kindly at the little pleader; Affection stooped down and gave her a kiss.

"I must say," observed honest Lubin, in answer to Nelly's appeal, "that none of us cut such a dash as Dick did before that unlucky explosion."

"Nelly," said Mr. Learning, with a most benevolent air, "the crown is yours—I give it to you. You may bear it to your brother, if you will."

The lame girl waited for no further permission, but hurried off at the greatest speed which she could command, to carry to another the prize which she herself might have worn.

"After all, I believe that Nelly has deserved all the praise and love which she has won," sighed the disappointed Matty, her jealousy conquered by the example of generous self-denial which she saw in her younger sister.

The party quickly followed the steps of Nelly Desley to the cottage of Dick—Lubin assisting his mother to carry the various gifts of his sisters. Affection quitted the rest for a few minutes in order to direct the movements of some attendants, who were spreading a table in the open air, in the space between the cottages. They were making preparations for a banquet, designed as a pleasant surprise for the Desleys upon their mother's return. The treat was given by Duty and Affection upon the joyful occasion, and especially intended to honour the wearer of the crown of Success.



CHAPTER XXXI.

THE CROWN OF SUCCESS.

"Mine, Nelly! no, it can never be mine!" exclaimed Dick, resisting with emotion the efforts of his sister to place the crown on his head.

"It was to be for the one who had made the best use of his hours," said Nelly; "it is fairly yours, for none of our furniture could be compared to that which you brought from the town. It was not your fault that an accident destroyed what had cost you so many good hours, nor is it right that you should suffer a double loss from the fire."

"There might have been reason in what you say," observed the pale invalid, "if the accident had indeed been owing to no error of my own. Nay, Nelly, you must not prevent me from telling the whole truth. It is best that I should speak, and that all these my friends should hear." Dame Desley, her children, and her guests, were all standing around the boy. "If," continued Dick, "I had obeyed the voice of my mother—if I had turned my back upon Pride, and not attempted, at his bidding, things that I was not able to perform—if he had not introduced me to Folly, whom I encouraged, although I despised her—the explosion would never have taken place, I should have suffered no shame and loss. I am willing to bear the consequences of my own wilfulness and presumption. I should blush to wear the crown of Success, which I feel that I do not merit. Let me see it on your brow, dear Nelly; its proper place is there. Next to the pleasure of winning it myself, is that of knowing that it belongs to one who so richly deserves it."

Nelly was no longer able to resist. The sparkling crown was placed on her brow. Lubin congratulated her with frank kindness, and even Matty felt that she had no right to complain. The reflection, however, passed through the mind of the girl, "All this honour and pleasure might have been mine, had I never listened to Folly!"

And now Mr. Learning came forward, and stood in the centre of the circle, leaning one hand on the arm-chair of Dick, while with the other he motioned for silence. It was clear, from his preparatory cough, that the sage was going to make a speech.

"My friends," he began, in his distinct, solemn tone, glancing benignly around, "we are all met together on a happy occasion. We see merit rewarded with success, and patient obedience to Duty achieving more than talent or genius. Before we proceed to the banquet to which our fair friends have invited us, let me mention before all my intentions in regard to the future year. When twelve months have run their course I will again return to this place, again look for a kindly welcome, again examine the cottages here. If I find that Dick has made up for the past—that Matty, giving up all connection with Folly, has furnished wisely and well—that Lubin, by steady perseverance, has made all forget that the word DUNCE was ever inscribed on his wall—not only one, but all and each of my young friends shall receive a crown of Success."

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Lubin, who had just been forming a number of good resolutions. A smile of pleasure lit up the pale features of Dick; and Matty, in expectation, already felt the silver crown on her head.

"And now," said graceful Duty, "let Mr. Learning conduct our Nelly to the feast prepared, as she is Queen of the day."

Even Dick, as if gaining fresh strength from the sight of the pleasant company around him, was able, leaning on his mother, to join the cheerful circle that on that beautiful autumnal day gathered around the board. Conversation flowed freely, nothing painful was recalled, no one whispered about Pride, no one mentioned Miss Folly. Brightly sparkled the beverage of Hope, foaming and bubbling in the glass; and every one who has tasted it knows what a delicious beverage it is. The stores of Amusement had been half emptied to furnish sweetmeats and cakes for the table; and Affection had provided a large quantity of the dried fruits of sweet Recollections. Merry were the smiles that were exchanged; merry the jests that were made; merriest of all the loud song of Content, as he warbled his lay of delight, fluttering round the head of her who wore the silver crown of Success.

* * * * *

And I now would gather around me my readers, to make them a little address ere we part. I see them in my mind's eye—from the school-boy with jacket and cap, who has thought it a condescension to read such "childish stuff," to the little curly-headed urchin in tartan frock, who, when taking a drive with mamma, asks whether the little stream which he passes be not "the real brook Bother." There is the tall elder sister, who only reads aloud "to amuse the children;" and the girl who "hates all lessons;" and the little laughing fairy who expects some day to see dwarf Alphabet standing at the door of a shop. It is not hard to make a speech when no one can see the speaker. So, without blushing, or coughing, or stammering, A. L. O. E. addresses her readers.

Have not you, my friends, been reading in my story of persons and scenes with which you yourselves are familiar? Have you not each a nice little head to furnish, and Time-money to pay for your purchases? And do not all your best friends recommend you to go to the good town of Education? Do not you know the muddy brook Bother? Have you not crossed it on the plank of Patience; or have you never—pray pardon the question—gone floundering right into the middle? I am pretty sure that you have paid toll to Alphabet, the stout little dwarf; that you have felt how troublesome and tedious it is to climb Multiplication staircase; that you have examined Reading's fine shop; glanced at Arithmetic's grates and fire-irons; and probably tumbled many a time from that awkward ladder of Spelling. Have I not amongst my young audience a clever Dick, a lazy Lubin, a silly Matty, and a lame little child like Nelly? Each reader must judge for himself which character most resembles his own, and let each kindly accept a suitable word of advice.

Clever reader! beware of Pride. Don't let him lurk behind your door—don't let him lead you to cut either your fingers or your friends, by attempting things for which you are not fitted, or by looking down upon companions not gifted with powers like your own. Do not despise Patience, or think that you are too clever to need it. It is not the quickest or sharpest pupil that really spends Time to best purpose. Often has the haughty, self-willed genius been found to forfeit the crown of Success.

Lazy reader! you who love play far better than work, and are tempted to vote Education, its tradesmen, its family of Ologies, and all, as the greatest bores in the world, beware of Procrastination—beware of the thief of Time—beware of putting off till to-morrow what ought to be done to-day. Can you bear to see that word DUNCE so terribly distinct on your wall? Can you bear to throw away on nothing but Amusement those precious hours and minutes which, well employed, might gain for you the silver crown of Success?

Silly reader!—but here I must pause, for it is probable that no little girl glancing over my pages will accept the title as her own. Yet, if she know Miss Folly, delight in her gossiping prate, dress according to her fanciful taste, and value her poisonous salve, she must really excuse me for classing her with our poor, conceited young Matty. There are thousands and tens of thousands, I fear, of such silly girls in the world (some of them may possibly be amongst my readers), who would furnish their heads with bubbles, and neglect the good for the gay. To such I would utter a gentle warning. Folly can never lead you to real happiness or real usefulness in the world. She may promise you pleasures for a moment; but her pleasures either vanish into air, or leave pain and vexation behind. Then shut her out from your home; give her idle fancies no room. Let your dress be sober, neat, and quiet—suited to the station in which you are placed. Girls who deck themselves out to be admired remind us of the cockatoo Parade, puffing out its red feathers, and always repeating the cry, "Ain't I fine? ain't I fine?" Let your furniture be useful and solid; water well the plant of Plain-work. It is not the fanciful, frivolous miss who merits the crown of Success.

But, perhaps, amongst my audience are several who may be described as lame, from the difficulty with which they make their way to the town of Education. They can hardly climb up hill Puzzle, and are often tempted to sit down in despair by the swollen waters of Bother! Courage, my dear young friends! Resolute perseverance will yet win the crown of Success. If you keep your eye upon Duty, and bravely follow where she would lead—if, guided by gentle Affection, you steadily pursue a right course—you will conquer difficulties at last, be useful, honoured, and beloved.

But if you would further know how to find out Duty, and, having found her, how to get strength and courage to follow her precepts, remember, dear friends, what was the best gift that even Affection could offer. There is something better than human knowledge—something stronger than mortal efforts—something more precious than earthly Success! Oh, make it your own, for only when that is possessed will the bird Content fold its silver wings, and rest in your bosoms for ever!



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Claudia. A Tale.

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Driven into Exile.

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The Forlorn Hope.

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THE END