The Looking-Glass for the Mind; or, Intellectual Mirror

Miss Caroline found it very difficult to reach this hill; for her fine shoes, that were made very tight, in order to set off her feet the better, greatly retarded her speed. Nor was this the only inconvenience; for her stays were drawn so close, that she could not properly breathe. She would very willingly have gone home to change her dress, in order to be more at ease; but she well knew that her friends would not give up their amusements to please her caprice.

Her playmates having reached the summit of the hill, enjoyed the beautiful prospect that surrounded them on all sides. On one hand were seen verdant meadows; on the other the riches of the harvest, with meandering streams that intersected the fields, and country seats and cottages scattered here and there. So grand a prospect could not fail of delighting them, and they danced about with joy; while poor Caroline found herself obliged to remain below, overwhelmed with sorrow, not being able to get up the hill.

In such a situation, she had leisure enough to make the most sorrowful reflections. "To what purpose," said she to herself, "am I dressed in these fine clothes? Of what a deal of pleasure do they debar me; and do not all my present sufferings arise merely from the possession of them?" She was giving up her mind to these distressing thoughts, when she suddenly saw her friends come running down the hill, and all crying out together as they passed her. "Run, run, Caroline! there is a terrible storm behind the hill, and it is coming towards us: if you do not make haste, your fine silk slip will be nicely soused!"

The fear of having her slip spoiled, recalled her strength; she forgot her weariness, pinched feet, and tight-laced waist, and made all the haste she could to get under cover. In spite of all her efforts, however, she could not run so fast as her companions, who were not incommoded by their dresses. Every moment produced some obstacle to her speed; at one time by her hoop and flounces, in the narrow paths she had to pass through; at another, by her train, of which the furzes frequently took hold; and at others by Mons. Pomatum and Powder's fine scaffold work about her head, on which the wind beat down the branches of such trees as she was obliged, in her progress home, to pass under.

At last, down came the storm with great fury, and hail and rain, mixed, fell in torrents. All her companions were safe at home before it began; and none were exposed to its rage but poor Caroline, who, indeed, got home at last, but in a most disastrous condition. She had left one of her fine shoes behind her in a large muddy hole, which in her precipitate flight, she had hurried over without observing; and, to fill up the measure of her misfortunes, just as she had got over the meadow, a sudden gust of wind made free with her hat, and blew it into a pond of stagnated and filthy water.

So completely soaked was every thing she had on, and the heat and rain had so glued her linen to her, that it was with some difficulty they got her undressed; as to her silk slip, it indeed afforded a miserable spectacle of fallen pride and vanity.

Her mother, seeing her in tears, jocosely said to her, "My dear, shall I have another slip made up for you against to-morrow?" – "Oh no, mamma," answered Caroline, kissing her, "I am perfectly convinced, from experience, that fine clothes cannot add to the happiness of the wearer. Let me again have my nice white frock, and no more powder and pomatum till I am at least ten years older; for I am ashamed of my folly and vanity."

Caroline soon appeared in her former dress, and with it she recovered her usual ease and freedom, looking more modest and pleasing than she ever did in her gaudy finery. Her mamma did not regret the loss she had sustained in the wreck of the slip, fine shoes, and hat, since it produced the means of bringing her daughter back to reason and prudence.

ARTHUR AND ADRIAN; OR TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE

Adrian had frequently heard his father say, that children had but little knowledge with respect to what was the most proper for them; and, that the greatest proof they could give of their wisdom, consisted in following the advice of people who had more age and experience. This was a kind of doctrine Adrian did not understand, or at least would not, and therefore it is no wonder he forgot it.

This wise and good father had allotted him and his brother Arthur a convenient piece of ground, in order that each might be possessed of a little garden, and display his knowledge and industry in the cultivation of it. They had also leave to sow whatever seed they should think proper, and to transplant any tree they liked out of their father's garden into their own.

Arthur remembered those words of his father which his brother Adrian had forgotten, and therefore went to consult their gardener, Rufus. "Pray tell me," said he, "what is now in season to sow in my garden, and in what manner I am to set about my business." The gardener hereupon gave him several roots and seeds, such as were properest for the season. Arthur instantly ran and put them in the ground; and Rufus very kindly not only assisted him in the work, but made him acquainted with many things necessary to be known.

Adrian, on the other hand, shrugged up his shoulders at his brother's industry, thinking he was taking much more pains than was necessary. Rufus, not observing this contemptuous treatment, offered him likewise his assistance and instruction; but he refused it in a manner that sufficiently betrayed his vanity and ignorance. He then went into his father's garden, and took from thence a quantity of flowers, which he immediately transplanted into his own. The gardener took no notice of him, but left him to do as he liked.

When Adrian visited his garden the following morning, all the flowers he had planted hung down their heads, like so many mourners at a funeral, and, as he plainly saw, were in a dying state. He replaced them with others from his father's garden; but, on visiting them the next morning, he found them perishing like the former.

This was a matter of great vexation to Adrian, who consequently became soon disgusted with this kind of business. He had no idea of taking so much pains for the possession of a few flowers, and therefore gave it up as an unprofitable game. Hence his piece of ground soon became a wilderness of weeds and thistles.

As he was looking into his brother's garden, about the beginning of summer, he saw something of a red colour hanging near the ground, which, on examination, he found to be strawberries of a delicious flavour. "Ah!" said he, "I should have planted strawberries in my garden."

Sometime afterwards, walking again in his brother's garden, he saw little berries of a milk-white colour, which hung down in clusters from the branches of a bush. Upon examination, he found they were currants, which even the sight of was a feast. "Ah!" said he, "I should have planted currants in my garden."

The gardener then observed to him, that it was his own fault that his garden was not as productive as his brother's. "Never, for the future," said Rufus, "despise the instruction and assistance of any one, since you will find by experience, that two heads are better than one."

MADAM D'ALLONE AND HER FOUR PUPILS

Madam D'Allone was the governess of four young ladies, Emilia, Harriot, Lucy, and Sophia, whom she loved with the tenderness of a mother. Her principal wish was, that her pupils might be virtuous and happy, and that they might enjoy all the comforts of life with tranquillity. They each experienced an equal share of her indulgence, and each received the same treatment, either as to pardon for errors, or rewards, or punishments.

Her endeavours were crowned with the happiest success, and her four little girls became the sweetest children upon earth. They told each other of their faults, and as readily forgave offences; they shared in each other's joys, nor were they ever happy when separated.

An unforeseen event, however, disturbed this happy tranquillity, just at the very moment they began to taste its charms, which served to convince them how necessary it was to be guided by their prudent governess.

Madam D'Allone was obliged to leave her pupils for a little time, a family affair having made it necessary for her to visit France. She left them with much reluctance, even sacrificed her interest, in some measure, to the desire of speedily settling her affairs, and, in the course of a month, returned in safety to her little flock, who received her with the warmest expressions of joy; but the alteration she perceived in her children very much surprised and alarmed her.

She saw it frequently happen, that if one asked the slightest favour of another, it was ill-naturedly refused, and from thence arose tumults and quarrels. That gaiety and cheerfulness, which had used to accompany all their sports and pastimes, were now changed to a gloomy perverseness; and instead of those tender expressions of love and friendship, which had constantly dwelt in all their conversations, nothing was now heard but perpetual jarrings and wranglings. If one proposed a walk in the garden, another would give some reason why she wished to remain in her chamber; and, in short, their only study seemed to be to thwart each other.

It happened one day that, not contented with showing each other how much they delighted in perverseness, they mutually distressed themselves with reciprocal reproaches.

Madam D'Allone beheld this scene with the greatest uneasiness, and could not help shedding tears on the occasion. She did not then think it prudent to say any thing to them, but retired to her chamber, in order there to think of the properest means of restoring peace and harmony among her unhappy pupils.

While she was turning these afflicting thoughts in her mind, all the four young ladies entered her apartment with a peevish and uneasy look, each complaining of the ill-temper of the rest. There was not one but what charged the other three with being the cause of it, and all together begged their governess would, if possible, restore to them that happiness they once possessed.

Their governess put on a very serious countenance, and said, "I have observed, my pupils, that you endeavour to thwart each other, and thereby destroy your pleasures. In order, therefore, that no such thing may happen again, let each take up her corner in this room, if she choose it, and divert herself in what manner she pleases, provided she does not interfere with either of her sisters. You may immediately have recourse to this mode of recreation, as you have leave to play till night; but remember that neither of you stir from the corner in which I shall place you."

The little maidens, who were no way displeased with this proposal, hastened to their different quarters, and began to amuse themselves each in her own way. Sophia commenced a conversation with her doll, or rather told her many pretty little stories; but her doll had not the gift of speech, and consequently was no companion. She could not expect any entertainment from her sisters, as they were playing, each asunder, in their respective corners.

Lucy took her battledore and shuttlecock, but there was none to admire her dexterity; besides, she was not allowed to strike it across the room, as that would have been an invasion on one of her sister's territories. She could not expect that either of them would quit their amusements to oblige her.

Harriot was very fond of her old game of hunt the slipper; but what was she to do with the slipper by herself; she could only shove it from hand to hand. It was in vain to hope for such service from her sisters, as each was amusing herself in her assigned corner.

Emilia, who was a very skilful pretty housewife, was thinking how she might give her friends an entertainment, and of course sent out for many things to market; but there was at present nobody near, with whom she might consult on the occasion, for her sisters were amusing themselves each in her corner.

Every attempt they made to find some new amusement failed, and all supposed that a compromise would be most agreeable; but, as matters were carried so far, who was first to propose it? This each would have considered as a humiliating circumstance; they therefore kept their distance, and disdainfully continued in their solitude. The day at last closing, they returned to Madam D'Allone, and begged her to think of some other amusement for them, than the ineffectual one they had tried.

"I am sorry, my children," said their governess, "to see you all so discontented. I know but of one way to make you happy, with which you yourselves were formerly acquainted, but which, it seems, you have forgotten. Yet, if you wish once more to put it into practice, I can easily bring it to your recollections." They all answered together, as though with one voice, that they heartily wished to recollect it, and stood attentive while their governess was looking at them, in eager expectation to hear what she had to say.

"What you have lost, or at least forgotten," replied Madam D'Allone, "is that mutual love and friendship which you once had for each other, and which every sister ought cheerfully to cherish. O! my dearest little friends, how have you contrived to forget this, and thereby make me and yourselves miserable?"

Having uttered these few words, which were interrupted by sighs, she stopped short, while tears of tenderness stole down her cheeks. The young ladies appeared much disconcerted, and struck dumb with sorrow and confusion. Their governess held out her arms, and they all at once instantly rushed towards her. They sincerely promised that they would tenderly love each other for the future, and perfectly agree as they formerly had done.

From this time, no idle peevishness troubled their harmonious intercourse: and, instead of bickerings and discontents among them, nothing was seen but mutual condescension, which delighted all who had the opportunity of being in their company. May this serve as a useful lesson to my youthful readers, how easy it is for them to promote or disturb their own happiness.

THE BIRD'S EGG

Master Gregory was fond of walking in a wood, which stood at a short distance from his father's house. The wood being young, the trees were consequently small, and placed very near to each other, with two or three paths between them. As he was one day walking up and down, in order to rest himself a little, he placed his back against a tree, whose stem was quite slender, and therefore all its branches shook as soon as it was touched. This rustling happened to frighten a little bird, who sprang from a neighbouring bush, and flew into another part of the wood.

Gregory was vexed to think he had disturbed the bird, and fixed his eyes upon the bush, in hopes of seeing it return. While he was thus attentively on the watch, he imagined he saw among the twisted branches something like a tuft of hay. As his curiosity was raised to know what it was, he went up close to the hedge, and found this tuft of hay was hollow, like a bowl. On putting aside the branches, he saw something like little balls within it, which were spotted, and of an oval shape. They lay close to each other, on something very soft. "Bless me," said Gregory, "this must be certainly what I have heard some people call a bird's nest, and the balls must be eggs. They are indeed less than our eggs, but then our hens are larger than these birds."

He had some thoughts, at first, of taking away the whole nest; but, upon second consideration, he contented himself with taking only one of the eggs, with which he instantly ran home. In the midst of his haste, he met his sister. "See this little egg," said he to her, "I have just now found it in a nest, in which were five others."

She desired to have it in her hand, examined it attentively, and then returned it to her brother. At last, they began rolling it up and down a table, just as they would a ball. One pushed it one way, and the other a different way, till at last they pushed it off the table, when it fell on the floor and broke. This set them a crying, and each mutually accused the other of being the cause of this sad disaster.

Their mamma, happening to hear them cry, came to inquire into the cause of it, when both began at once telling their sorrows; and, having heard their different stories, she took them affectionately by the hand, and led them to a tree, whose stately boughs afforded a pleasant shade to a verdant bank, on which they all sat down together.

"My dear children," said their mamma, "make yourselves easy. You have broken the egg between you, and that, to be sure, is a misfortune; but it is of too trifling a nature to suffer it to make you unhappy. After all, Gregory, there is some room of complaint against you, as it was an act of injustice to rob the poor bird of its egg. You must have seen how the hen places her eggs in a nest, on which she sits to warm and animate them. In about three weeks, from the eggs proceed chickens, which pierce the shell, and in a few days come and feed out of your hand. This egg, which you have just now broken, had you left it in the nest, would have become a sort of chick. The bird you saw fly out of the bush was probably the mother, who will, very likely, return again to see what mischief you have done her, and perhaps she will forsake it altogether, which they frequently do when disturbed.

"Though the loss is only a single egg, yet that perhaps will inform them that their habitation is discovered, when they have every thing to be afraid of from our violence. They guess, that when their little ones shall be hatched, those that robbed them of an egg, will return and seize upon their infant family. If this nest you have been robbing, for I cannot call it anything less than a robbery, should be on that account forsaken, I think you will be very sorry for it."

Gregory replied that it would indeed give him much uneasiness, and seemed very sorry that he had meddled with the egg. "But," said he to his mamma, "I had not the least thought of what you have been telling me, nor did I suppose there could be any harm in bringing it to my sister, for it was principally on that account that I took it."

His mamma replied, that she readily believed him; for she told him she was sensible that he had too good a heart to wish to do mischief, merely for the sake of tormenting others. Gregory was, indeed, a very good boy, and was as remarkable for his duty to his parents, his tender attachment to his sister, and his universal benevolence to every one.

The little girl observed to her mamma, that the nest which her brother had shown her did not in any degree resemble the swallow's nests that were seen about the corners of the windows of some houses. "My dear," replied her mamma, "every nest is not alike, any more than every bird, some being great, and others little; some are never seen to perch on trees, while others are hardly ever out of them; some are bulky and inactive, others slim, and full of cunning and industry; the plumage of some are beautiful beyond description, with an amazing variety of colours, and others have a plain and homely appearance; some subsist on fruits, some feed upon insects, and many live by making a prey of and of devouring the smaller birds."

Here her little daughter exclaimed, "Oh, what wicked creatures! I am sure I should think it no crime to destroy the nest of such unnatural birds." – "Very true," replied her mamma, and there are many more of your way of thinking; and therefore these great birds, who live upon the smaller class, build their nests in places where they cannot be easily disturbed, such as in woods, in crevices of rocks, and in other places most unfrequented by men, or at heights beyond our reach.

"Since, therefore, my dear children, these birds are greatly different from each other, as well in size as in the mode of living, and in the variety of their plumage, it will naturally follow that their nests must also differ. The lark never perches on a tree, and sings only when mounting in the air, and builds her nest on the ground. The swallow builds about the roofs of houses, under what we call the eaves, and sometimes in the corners of windows. The owl, which flies abroad only in the night, seeks out deserted habitations, or some hollow trees, wherein to deposit her eggs; and the eagles, who soar above the clouds till absolutely out of sight, bring forth their young in the cliffs of craggy rocks. Those birds, which so prettily sport round our houses, and hop from branch to branch, make their nests in the trees and hedges. Those who sport on the water, and find their living therein, build their nests among the rushes that grow on the banks.

"We will, one fine day, take a walk into the little valley that terminates our large meadow, and you will there see a number of these pretty creatures busy in selecting the materials of which they compose their nests. You will observe one employed in carrying off a wheaten straw, another with wool or feathers in its beak, another with a dried leaf, and perhaps with a little moss. You may frequently notice the swallow, on the borders of a limpid stream, moistening in the water a little bit of earth which he holds in his beak, and with this he builds his habitation; and, though the outside of its nest is formed of hard and durable materials, the inside is lined with the softest and warmest. There are even some birds, who pull off their own feathers to make up a comfortable bed, wherein to secure their young from every inclemency of the elements.

"Their nests are made large or small, in proportion to the number of eggs they are to contain. Some birds hang up their nests by a kind of thread, which they have the skill to form of flax, of different sorts of weeds, and of the webs of spiders. Others place it in the middle of a soft and gluey substance, to which they carefully stick many feathers. All birds seek retired and solitary places, and use every endeavour to make their nests strong and solid, to secure them from the attacks of enemies of various species.

"It is in this kind of habitation they lay their eggs, where the mother, and at times the father, sits upon them, puts every thing within them into motion, and at last produce little creatures, who break through their shell, and come forth.

"I doubt not but you have often seen a fly in winter, which appeared to have no life in it: yet, upon taking it into your hand, the warmth proceeding from it has brought it to life. It is nearly the same thing with birds, the perseverance of whose parents, in brooding upon their eggs, converts them into living creatures.

"While the mother is sitting, the cock is her constant attendant, and amuses her with his music. When the young birds are hatched, the old ones endeavour to release them from the confinement of the egg. At this period their diligence is redoubled, they do everything to nourish and defend them, and are constantly employed in that interesting pursuit. No distance deters them from seeking their food, of which they make an equal distribution, every one receiving in his turn what they have been able to procure. So long as they continue young and helpless, they contrive to procure such food as is adapted to their delicacy; but as soon as they are grown stronger by age, they provide for them food of a more solid nature.

"The pelican, which is a very large bird, is obliged to go a great distance for food for its young, and therefore nature has provided it with a sort of bag, which she fills with such food as she knows is most agreeable to the palate of her young ones. She warms what she procures, and by such means makes it fitter for their tender stomachs.

"While they are thus acting the parental part, they seem to be forgetful of themselves, and attentive only to their little family. On the approach of either rain or tempests, they hasten to their nest, and cover it as well as they can with expanded wings, thereby keeping out the wind and water from hurting their infant brood. All their nights are employed in nourishing and keeping them warm. The most timorous among the feathered race, who will fly away on the least noise that approaches them, and tremble at the most trifling apprehensions of danger, become strangers to fear as soon as they have a young family to take care of, and are inspired with courage and intrepidity. We see an instance of this in the common hen, who, though in general a coward, no sooner becomes a parent, than she gives proofs of courage, and boldly stands forth in defence of her young. She will face the largest dog, and will not run even from a man, who shall attempt to rob her of her young.