I.
Perhaps some of my young readers have been at Riverdale; if they have not, I must tell them that it is a very pretty place. The village is on the banks of a river, that comes from many miles away among the hills and mountains; and that is the reason why it is called Riverdale. But I will not stop now to tell my little friends about the place, for they will find out all they wish to know about it before they have done reading the story.
There were rich people and poor people in Riverdale, as there are in almost every other place, and my story begins in the humble cottage of a poor widow. It was not a pretty white cottage, with green blinds, and a nice flower garden in front of it, but it was a dingy old house that had never been painted. Nothing had been done to make it look pretty, and it seemed hardly fit to live in.
The poor widow’s name was Jane White. Her husband, who had been a laborer, died only a year before, and left her with a family of four children. She had to work very hard to get money enough to buy food and clothes for her little boys and girls, and you may be sure they did not have any nice things to eat, nor any fine clothes to wear.
Her oldest boy’s name was David White. He was not quite nine years old. But he was big enough to help his mother a great deal, as any little boy of that age may do, if he only tries.
David used to take care of the baby, bring in the wood and water, see to the fire, and do a great many other things that were not beyond his strength. His mother sent him to school, for she wanted her boy to be a wise and good man when he grew up. It was very kind of her to let David go to school, when she wanted him so much to help her take care of the children, and to do the chores.
Mrs. White used to earn money by “closing” shoes;—that is, by sewing up the seams. David could not help seeing that she had to work very hard, and he often wished that he could close shoes, and thus get a little money. He tried two or three times to sew up some strips of leather, but he did not make out very well; and his mother told him he was not big enough to do such work.
A great many times did David wish he was a great man, so that he could take care of his mother, and his little brother and sisters. He thought if he was, he would earn lots of money. Then he would not let his mother sit up so late nights to close shoes.
It was of no use to wish he was a man, for he was only a little boy. The next best thing he could do was to help her all he could; and Mrs. White had no reason to find fault with him, for he did all he was able, and was willing to do a great deal more. Still he could not help thinking what a fine thing it would be to earn money for his mother. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do something.
Those who are willing to help themselves are almost always sure to find some one who is willing to help them. If we try to do well, there are plenty of friends who will do all they can for us.
David’s mother used to let him go to the river to catch fish, but she always told him, when he was going, to be very careful not to fall into the water. He used to mind what she said, for he knew how sad she would feel if he should be drowned, as John Piper had been only the year before. He felt that it was his duty to take care of his mother when he got big enough. If he should be lost, what would become of her, when she was too old to work?
He had a fish-pole and line that had been his father’s, and with these he used to catch pouts, perch, and shiners; and once he had caught a great pickerel. These fish were all good to eat, and when David had caught a mess of them, he felt that he had done something to feed the family.
One day he wanted to go a fishing, and like a good boy, he asked his mother. The baby was asleep, and Arthur and Susan were building a house in the sand before the cottage; and so she told him he might.
David took down his fish-pole, got a little basket from the wood-shed, and started for the river. He felt just as though he wanted to do some great thing. He wanted to catch something better than perch and shiners. So he took a big stick, and when he came to the river, he walked till he heard a “chug”—which is the noise that a bull-frog makes.
Then he stopped, and pretty soon he saw the green head of a frog sticking out of the water. Froggy looked at him slyly, as though he knew what he meant to do. As David crept up to him, Froggy gave another “chug,” and darted into the water, hiding himself under a lily-pad that grew near the shore.
David could not find him; so he walked along till he saw another. He was more careful, and I don’t think Froggy heard him this time.
“You just sit still half a second more,” said he to himself, “and I’ll have you. You need not wink at me; I want one of your hind legs for bait.”
As soon as he got near enough, he raised the big stick, and brought it down upon the head of poor Froggy. It was a hard blow, and the frog was killed by it.
Perhaps some of my kind-hearted little readers will say it was too bad for David to kill the frog. It would have been very wicked, if he had not wanted the frog for bait. He had done the act in order to get food for his mother and his brother and sisters.
Taking out his knife, he cut off one of the hind legs of the frog, and put it on the hook. There were a great many pickerel in the river. They are a very fine fish, and often grow to be quite large. A frog’s leg is the best bait to catch them with, and David wished ever so much that he could catch a big pickerel.
He dragged the frog’s leg over the water for half an hour, hoping a pickerel would jump up and catch hold of it. At last he heard a splash, and felt a fish pulling very hard at the line.
He hoped he should catch him, and even before he had seen the fish, he began to think what he should do with him. But he had a little plan in his head, and if he could only get the fish, he was almost sure of doing a great thing.
The Pickerel for sale.