Cousin Lucy's Conversations

At last Lucy said,

“If you don’t make me a garden, I shall go and tell Joanna of you.”

“Very well,” said Royal; “we will go and leave it to Joanna, and let her decide.”

They went in and stated the case to Joanna. When she heard all the facts, she decided at once against Royal.

“Certainly you ought to make her a garden,” said Joanna. “There being no hens has nothing to do with it. You took the risk. You took the risk.”

Lucy did not understand what Joanna meant by taking the risk, but she understood that the decision was in her favor, and she ran off out of the kitchen in great glee. Royal followed her more slowly.

“Well, Lucy,” said he, “I’ll make you a garden. I’d as lief make it as not.”

He accordingly worked very industriously upon the garden for more than an hour. He dug up all the ground with his hoe, and then raked it over carefully. Then he marked out an alley through the middle of it, for Lucy to walk in, when she was watering her flowers. He also divided the sides into little beds, though the paths between the beds were too narrow to walk in.

“Now,” said he, “Lucy, for the flowers.”

So they set off upon an expedition after flowers. They got some in the garden, and some in the fields. Some Royal took up by the roots; but most of them were broken off at the stem, so as to be stuck down into the ground. Lucy asked him if they would grow; and he said that he did not know that they would grow much, but they would keep bright and beautiful as long as she would water them.

Miss Anne lent Lucy her watering-pot, to water her flowers, and she said that, after dinner, she would go out and see her garden. Accordingly, after dinner, they made preparations to go. While Miss Anne was putting on her sun-bonnet, Royal waited for her; but Lucy ran out before them. In a moment, however, after she had gone out, she came running back in the highest state of excitement, calling out,

“O Royal, we have caught them! we have caught them! O, come and see! come, Miss Anne, come quick and see!”

And before they had time to speak to her, or even to ask what she meant, she was away again, calling, as she passed away from hearing, “Come, come, come!”

Royal left Miss Anne, and ran off after Lucy.

Miss Anne herself walked along after them, and found them looking through the bars of the hen-coop, and in a state of the highest delight at the sight of a hen and a large brood of chickens, which were walking about within.

“O, look, Miss Anne!” said Lucy, clapping her hands as Miss Anne came up. “A real hen, and ever so many chickens!”

“Where could they have come from?” said Miss Anne.

“O, we caught them,” said Lucy; “we caught them. I told you, Royal, that perhaps we should catch some.”

“How did they get here?” said Royal. “It is some of father’s sly work, I know. Do you know, Miss Anne, how they came here?”

“Let us see how many chickens there are,” said Miss Anne. “One, two, three,” – and so she went on counting up to thirteen.

“Thirteen,” said Lucy; “only think! More than Joanna’s, isn’t it, Royal? Thirteen is more than eleven, isn’t it?”

“Yes, two more,” said Royal; “but, Miss Anne, don’t you know how they came here?”

Miss Anne looked rather sly, but did not answer. She said to Lucy,

“Well, Lucy, let us go and see your garden.”

Lucy did not now care so much about her garden; she was more interested in the chickens; however, they all went to look at it, and Miss Anne praised it very highly. She said the flowers looked beautifully.

“And now, Miss Anne,” said Lucy, “whenever I want any flowers, I can come out here and gather them out of my garden.”

“Yes,” said Miss Anne, “as long as they last.”

“O, they will last all the time,” said Lucy.

“Will they?” said Miss Anne, rather doubtfully.

“Yes,” said Lucy; “I am going to water them.”

“That will help,” replied Miss Anne, “I have no doubt.”

“I can keep them fresh as long as I want to, in that way,” said Lucy. “Royal said so.”

“Did you, Royal?” asked Miss Anne.

“No,” said Royal. “I said that they would keep fresh as long as she watered them.”

“That wasn’t quite honest, was it, Royal? for they won’t keep fresh more than two days.”

“Well,” said Royal, “and she won’t have patience to water them more than one day.”

“That’s equivocation,” said Miss Anne.

“Equivocation?” repeated Royal; “what do you mean by that?”

“It is when anything you say has two senses, and it is true in one sense, and not true in another; and you mean to have any person understand it in the sense in which it is not true.”

“What do you mean by that?” said Lucy.

“Why, I will give you an example. Once there was a boy who told his brother William, that there was a black dog up in the garret, and William ran up to see. His brother came up behind him, and, when they opened the garret door, he pointed to an old andiron, such as are called dogs, and said, ‘See! there he is, standing on three legs.’”

Royal laughed very heartily at this story. He was much more amused at the waggery of such a case of equivocation, than impressed with the dishonesty of it.

“Miss Anne,” said he, “I don’t see that there was any great harm in that.”

“Equivocation is not wrong always,” said Miss Anne. “Riddles are often equivocations.”

“Tell us one,” said Royal.

“Why, there is your old riddle of the carpenter cutting the door. He cut it, and cut it, and cut it, and cut it too little; then he cut it again, and it fitted.”

“Is that an equivocation?” said Royal.

“Yes,” said Miss Anne; “the equivocation is in the word little. It may mean that he cut too little, or that he cut until the door was too little. Now, when you give out that riddle, you mean that the person whom you are talking with, should understand it in the last sense; that is, that he cut until the door was too little, and then that he cut it more, and it was just right. But it cannot be true in that sense. It is true only in the other sense; that is, that he did not cut it enough, and then, when he cut it more, he made it fit. So that he cut it too little, has two senses. The words are true in one sense; but you mean to have them understood in the other sense, in which they cannot be true. And that is an equivocation.

“But, then,” continued Miss Anne, “equivocations in riddles are certainly not wrong; but equivocations in our dealings with one another certainly are.”

“I don’t think that the boy that said there was a dog up garret did any thing wrong,” said Royal.

“I do,” said Lucy, putting down her little foot with great emphasis. “I think he did very wrong indeed.”

“O no, Lucy,” said Miss Anne, “not very wrong indeed. Perhaps it was not quite right. But it is certainly wrong to gain any advantage from any person in your dealings with them, by equivocation.”

“Did I?” said Royal.

“Yes, I think you did, a little. You told Lucy that the flowers would keep fresh as long as she would water them. You meant her to understand it absolutely; but it is true only in another sense.”

“In what sense?” said Royal.

“Why, as long as she would be likely to water them; which is a very different thing. Perhaps she would not have been willing to make the bargain with you, if she had understood that she could not keep them fresh by watering them, more than a day or two.”

While they had been talking thus, they had gradually been walking towards the house, and they had now reached the door. Miss Anne went in, and Lucy and Royal went to the hen-coop to see the hen and chickens.

Lucy went to get some corn, but Joanna told her that crumbs of bread would be better, and then the old hen could break them up into small pieces, and feed her chickens with them. She accordingly gave her some small pieces of bread, which Lucy carried back; and she and Royal amused themselves for a long time, by throwing crumbs in through the spaces between the sticks.

While they were talking about them, Royal happened to speak of them as his hen and chickens, and Lucy said that she thought he ought not to have them all. She wanted some herself, – at least some of the chickens.

“O no,” said Royal; “they are altogether mine; it is my coop.”

“No,” replied Lucy; “I helped you make the coop, and I mean to have some of the chickens.”

“Yes, but, Lucy, you promised me that I should have the coop and the hens, if I would make you a garden.”

“Yes, but not the chickens,” said Lucy; “I did not say a word about the chickens.”

“O Lucy, that was because we did not expect to have any chickens; but it is all the same thing.”

“What is all the same thing?” said Lucy.

“Why, hens and chickens,” said Royal.

“O Royal,” said Lucy, “they are very different indeed.” Lucy looked through the bars of the hen-coop, at the hen and chickens, and was quite surprised that Royal could say that they were all the same thing.

“In a bargain, Lucy, I mean; in a bargain, I mean. If you make a bargain about hens, you mean all the chickens too.”

“I didn’t, I am sure,” said Lucy; “I never thought of such a thing as the chickens; and besides, you did not make me such a garden as you promised me.”

“Why, yes I did,” said Royal.

“No,” said Lucy, “you told me an equivocation.”

Royal laughed.

“You did, Royal; you know you did; and Miss Anne said so.

“I think it was a falsehood, myself,” continued Lucy, “or almost a falsehood.”

“O no, Lucy; I don’t think you would water them more than one day, and I knew that they would keep fresh as long as that.”

Lucy was silent. She did not know exactly how to reply to Royal’s reasoning; but she thought it was very hard, that out of the whole thirteen chickens, Royal would not let her have any to call hers.

She told Royal that she only wanted two; if he would let her have two, she should be satisfied; – but Royal said that he wanted them all; that she had the garden, and he must have the hen and chickens.

Lucy might very probably have said something further on the subject; but at that moment she spied a little chicken, with black and yellow feathers, just creeping through between the bars of the coop. A moment more, and he was fairly out upon the grass outside.

“O Royal!” exclaimed Lucy, “one is out! one is out! I can catch him.”

“No,” said Royal, “let me catch him. You will hurt him.”

They both started up, and ran after the chicken; while he, frightened at their pursuit, and at his strange situation in the grass, ran off farther and farther, peeping with great earnestness and noise. Royal caught at him, but did not catch him. He darted off towards where Lucy was, and at that instant Lucy clapped her hand over him, and held him a prisoner.

The poor hen was much alarmed at the cries of the lost chicken; and she pushed her head through the bars of the cage, trying to get out, and apparently in great distress.

“Give him to me,” said Royal, “and I’ll put him back again.”

“No,” said Lucy, “I am going to carry him in, and show him to Joanna.”

“O, well,” said Royal, “only give him to me, and let me carry him. You will hurt him.”

“No, I won’t hurt him,” said Lucy; “I will be very careful indeed.”

So she put the tender little animal very gently in one of her hands, and covered him with the other.

“O, what soft feathers!” said Lucy.

“Yes,” said Royal; “and see his little bill sticking out between your fingers!”

Thus they went into the house, – first to Joanna, and afterwards to Miss Anne; and the hen, when the lost chicken was out of hearing, soon regained her composure. She had a dozen chickens left, and as she could not count, she did not know but that there were thirteen.

CONVERSATION X

JOHNNY

Miss Anne was very much pleased to see the little chicken. She sent Royal out after a small, square piece of board. While he was gone, she got a small flake of cotton batting, and also an old work-basket, from the upper shelf of her closet. Then, when Royal came in with the board, she put the cotton upon it, shaping it in the form of a nest. She put the chicken upon this nest, and then turned the basket down over it, which formed a sort of cage, to keep the little prisoner from getting away. Royal and Lucy could look through the open-work of the basket, and see him.

But Miss Anne, though pleased with the chicken, was very sorry to find that Royal had so monopolizing a spirit. A monopolizing spirit is an eager desire to get for ourselves, alone, that which others ought to have a share of. Royal wanted to own the hen and chickens himself, and to exclude, or shut out, Lucy from all share of them. He wished to monopolize them. Too eager a desire to get what others have, is sometimes called covetousness. Miss Anne resolved to have a conversation with Royal about his monopolizing and covetous disposition.

She did not, however, have a very good opportunity until several days after this; but then a circumstance occurred which naturally introduced the subject.

The circumstance was this.

The children were taking a walk with Miss Anne. They went to a considerable distance from the house, by a path through the woods, and came at length to the banks of a mill stream. The water tumbled over the rocks which filled the bed of the stream. There was a narrow road along the bank, and Miss Anne turned into this road, and walked along up towards the mill, which was only a short distance above.

They saw, before them, at a little distance, a boy about as large as Royal, cutting off the end of a long, slender pole.

“O, see what a beautiful fishing-pole that boy has got!” said Royal.

“Is that a fishing-pole?” said Lucy.

Just then the boy called out, as if he was speaking to somebody in the bushes.

“Come, George; ain’t you most ready?”

“Yes,” answered George, “I have got mine just ready; but I want to get a little one for Johnny.”

“O, never mind Johnny,” said the other boy; “he can’t fish.”

By this time, the children had advanced so far that they could see George and Johnny, in a little open place among the bushes. George was about as large as the other boy; and he was just finishing the trimming up of another pole, very much like the one which the children had seen first. There was a very small boy standing by him, who, as the children supposed, was Johnny. He was looking on, while George finished his pole.

“I would not get Johnny one,” said the boy in the road. “He can’t do any thing with it.”

“No,” said George, “but he will like to have one, so that he can make believe fish; shouldn’t you, Johnny?”

“Yes,” said Johnny; or rather he said something that meant yes; for he could not speak very plain.

“Well,” said the boy in the road, “I am not going to wait any longer.” He accordingly shut up his knife, put it into his pocket, and walked along.

George scrambled back into the bushes, and began to look about for a pole for Johnny. Miss Anne and the children were now opposite to them.

“Johnny,” said Miss Anne, “do you expect that you can catch fishes?”

Johnny did not answer, but stood motionless, gazing upon the strangers in silent wonder.

Miss Anne smiled, and walked on, and the children followed her. Presently George and Johnny came up behind them, – George walking fast, and Johnny trotting along by his side. When they had got before them a little way, they turned out of the road into a path which led down towards the stream, which here was at a little distance from the road. The path led in among trees and bushes; and so Miss Anne and the children soon lost sight of them entirely.

“George seems to be a strange sort of a boy,” said Miss Anne.

“Why?” asked Royal.

“Why, he cannot be contented to have a fishing-pole himself, unless little Johnny has one too.”

“Is that very strange?” asked Royal.

“I thought it was rather unusual,” said Miss Anne. “Boys generally want to get things for themselves; but I did not know that they were usually so desirous to have their brothers gratified too.”

“I do,” said Royal; “that is, I should, if I had a brother big enough.”

“You have a sister,” said Miss Anne.

“Well,” said Royal, “if I was going a fishing, and Lucy was going too, I should want to have her have a fishing-pole as well as I.”

“It is not always so with boys, at any rate,” said Miss Anne. “And that makes me think of a curious thing that happened once. A little boy, whom I knew, had a beautiful picture-book spoiled by a little gray dog, in a very singular way.”

“How was it?” said Royal.

“Tell us, Miss Anne,” said Lucy; “tell us all about it.”

“Well, this boy’s father bought him a very beautiful picture-book, with colored pictures in it, and brought it home, and gave it to him. And the next day the little gray dog spoiled it entirely.”

“How?” said Lucy.

“Guess.”

“Why, he bit it, and tore it to pieces with his teeth, I suppose,” said Lucy.

“No,” said Miss Anne.

“Then he must have trampled on it with his muddy feet,” said Royal.

“No,” said Miss Anne, “it could not be in any such way, for it was not a live dog.”

“Not a live dog!” said Lucy.

“No, it was a little glass dog, – gray glass; only he had black ears and tail.”

“I don’t see how he could spoil a book,” said Royal.

“He did,” answered Miss Anne.

“The book gave Joseph a great deal of pleasure before the dog came, and after that, it was good for nothing to him.”

“Joseph?” said Royal; “who was he?”

“Why, he was the little boy that had the book. Didn’t I tell you his name before?”

“No,” said Royal; “but tell us how the dog spoiled the book.”

“Why, you must understand,” said Miss Anne, “that Joseph had a little sister at home, named Mary; and when their father brought home the book to Joseph, he had nothing for Mary. But the next day, he was in a toy-shop, and he saw this little glass dog, and he thought that it would be a very pretty little present for Mary. So he bought it, and carried it home to her.”

“Well, Miss Anne, tell on,” said Lucy, when she found that Miss Anne paused, as if she was not going to say anything more.

“Why, that is about all,” said Miss Anne, “only that he gave the dog to Mary.”

“But you said that the dog spoiled Joseph’s book.”

“So it did. You see, when Joseph came to see the dog, he wanted it himself, so much that he threw his book down upon the floor, and came begging for the dog; and he could not take any pleasure at all in the book after that.”

“Is that all?” said Royal; “I supposed it was going to be something different from that.”

“Then you don’t think it is much of a story!”

“No,” said Royal.

“Nor I,” said Lucy.

“Well, now, I thought,” said Miss Anne, “that that was rather a singular way for a dog to spoil a picture-book.”

There was a moment’s pause after Miss Anne had said these words; and then, an instant afterwards, the whole party came suddenly out of the woods; and the mill, with a bridge near it, crossing the stream, came into view.

“O, there is a bridge,” said Lucy; “let us go over that bridge.”

“Well,” said Royal, “so we will.”

They walked on towards the bridge; but, just before they got to it, Royal observed that there were ledges of rocks below the bridge, running out into the water; and he said that he should rather go down upon those rocks.

Miss Anne said that she should like to go down there too, very much, if she thought it was safe; and she concluded to go down, slowly and carefully, and see. They found that, by exercising great caution, they could advance farther than they had supposed. Sometimes Royal, who was pretty strong, helped Miss Anne and Lucy down a steep place; and sometimes they had to step over a narrow portion of the torrent. They found themselves at last all seated safely upon the margin of a rocky island, in the middle of the stream, with the water foaming, and roaring, and shooting swiftly by, all around them.

“There,” said Royal, “isn’t this a good place?”

“Yes,” said Lucy; “I never saw the water run so much before.”

“Children,” said Miss Anne, “look down there!”

“Where?” said Royal.

“There, upon the bank, under the trees, down on that side of the stream, – a little below that large, white rock.”

“Some boys,” said Royal. “They’re fishing.”

“I see ’em,” said Lucy.

“Yes,” said Royal, “they are the same boys we saw in the road.”

“Yes,” said Miss Anne; “and don’t you see Johnny running about with his pole?”

“Where?” said Lucy; “which is Johnny?”

“That’s he,” said Royal, “running about. Now he’s gone down to a sandy place upon the shore. See, he’s reaching out with his pole, as far as he can, upon the water; he is trying to reach a little piece of board that is floating by. There, he has got it, and is pulling it in.”

“I am glad George got him a pole,” said Miss Anne.

“So am I,” said Royal.

“And so am I,” said Lucy.

“It seems George is happier himself, if Johnny has something to make him happy too; but the other boy isn’t.”

“How do you know that he isn’t?” asked Lucy.

“Why, he did not want George to stop. He had got a pole himself, and he did not care any thing about Johnny’s having one.”

“Yes,” said Royal, “so I think.”

“Some children,” said Miss Anne, “when they have anything that they like, always want their brothers and sisters to have something too; and George seems to be one of them.

“And that makes me think,” continued Miss Anne, “of the story of the horse and the picture-book.”

“What is the story?” said Royal.

“Why, it is a story of a little wooden horse, which, instead of spoiling a picture-book, as the dog did, made it much more valuable.”

“Tell us all about it,” said Lucy.

“Very well, I will,” said Miss Anne. “There was once a boy named David. His uncle sent him, one new year’s day, a picture-book. There was a picture on every page, and two on the cover. He liked his picture-book very much indeed; but one thing diminished the pleasure he took in looking at it.”

“What do you mean by diminished?” asked Lucy.

“Why, made it smaller,” said Royal.

“Yes,” said Miss Anne; “and the circumstance which made his pleasure in the picture-book less than it otherwise would have been, was, that his little brother Georgie had no new book or plaything. David showed Georgie his book, and sometimes let him have it by himself; but he would have liked it better, if Georgie had had a present of his own.”

“And now about the horse?” said Royal.

“Well, – that evening, when these boys’ father came home to supper, he brought something tied up in a paper, which, he said, was for Georgie. David took it, and ran to find Georgie, – hoping that it was some present for him. Georgie opened it, and found that it was a handsome wooden horse, on wheels, – with a long red cord for a bridle, to draw him about by. David was very much pleased at this; and now he could go and sit down upon his cricket, and look at his book, with a great deal more pleasure; for Georgie had a present too. So, you see, the horse made the picture-book more valuable.”

The children sat still a short time, thinking of what Miss Anne had said; and at length Royal said,

“Are these stories which you have been telling us true, Miss Anne?”

“No,” said Miss Anne, quietly.

“Then you made them up.”

“Yes,” said Miss Anne.

“What for?” said Lucy.

“Why, to show you and Royal,” said Miss Anne, “the difference between a monopolizing and covetous spirit, and one of generosity and benevolence, which leads us to wish to have others possess and enjoy, as well as ourselves.”

Royal, pretty soon after this, proposed that he and Lucy should find some sticks upon the little island, where they were sitting, and throw them upon the water, and see them sail down; and they did accordingly amuse themselves in this way for some time. Lucy was very much amused to see the sticks shoot along the rapids, and dive down the little cascades among the rocks. Miss Anne helped them throw in one piece of plank, which had drifted down from the mill, and which was too large and heavy for them to lift alone. They watched this for some time, as it floated away far down the stream.

At last, it was time to go home; and they all went back, very carefully, over the stones, until they got back to the shore; and then they walked home by a new way, over a hill, where they had a beautiful prospect.