LE LOUP ET L'AGNEAU.
BY THE AUTHOR OF LIGHTS OF EDUCATION.
Soon after the dreadful massacre of the white inhabitants of St. Domingo many years ago, a French family came to settle in Baltimore. With a small sum of money, saved from the wreck of a large fortune, they purchased an acre of ground, about a mile from town, with a stone house built on it; over which they contrived to spread a foreign appearance, by thatching the slanting roof of the porch in front—latticing the small windows—and hanging out a nightingale in a wicker cage. The family consisted of a gentleman and lady, a nephew, and an infant daughter, with the domestics, the faithful adherents of their master's adverse fortune. After some time, Mr. Leroy obtained a small salary in the French consul's office; Madame Leroy worked stays; the servant woman (Pauline) made cakes, and sold them at market, or in the park on field-days, to the followers of the military assembled there. The man (Antoine) cultivated West India vegetables; but when Pauline was away, he added all the work of the house to his own occupation; and could cook, wash, and iron, better than herself, though he never scolded half so loud. Little Susette was a sweet creature; with bright laughing black eyes, and of a lively, courageous temper. Her cousin was not so; whether the horrid scenes he indistinctly remembered in his own country, or the little sympathy he found in another, tended the most to depression and fear, I know not; but Louis was pensive even to sadness, and timid almost to feminine weakness. These qualities, so injurious to his future prospects, might have been overcome, since they did not appear in the feelings of his early childhood, had he been left either with his family, in the peaceful enjoyment of his own little pleasures, or found associates, who would have enlivened and encouraged by kindness and protection. But the only boy who sought his society, was the least likely to benefit him in this respect. He was the son of a wealthy brewer, whose residence was near Mr. Leroy's, and his name was Michael Redman; commonly called Mike, and sometimes Red Mike. This boy was the usual companion of Louis, from beyond the Falls to school, and back again. Strange, that nothing should grow out of such constant intercourse, in a free country, but wanton oppression and slavish fear; because the ready invention and quick perception of the little Frenchman excited the envy of his unintellectual companion, though he affected to despise all the delicate endowments of that mind, which he kept in bondage by the exercise of his savage strength alone; but this reduced Louis to the most degraded state of slavery, till at length he became subservient to his tyrant's purposes on every occasion; would I could say of good or evil, where all was evil. On Michael's youthful countenance already were impressed the marks of fatal passions; and every day the traces deepened, the shadows darkened. This was more perceptible, whenever his forbidding face appeared in opposition to the lovely, innocent countenance of Louis Leroy; and then so remarkable was the contrast exhibited, that any one would have been struck with the truth of the application, when an old French gentleman, who usually came on an evening to share Mr. Leroy's frugal supper, of bread and salad, exclaimed on seeing the two boys together—"Voila, le loup et l'agneau." (Behold, the wolf and the lamb.) Well might he say so, and the transactions of two days will prove it sufficiently to the reader. Little Susette had been ill, and was ordered regular exposure in the open air. This was not so easy, considering the constant occupation of the family; but Louis carried her in his arms all about the place, whenever he was at home, till she recovered, and then she soon grew too stout for his nursing; so one day, when Pauline was gone to attend a parade in the park, Antoine was spreading out beans and okras at the back of the house to dry, and Madame Leroy was finishing a pair of stays, Louis took the baby in his arms, and carried her under a shady tree; when sitting down beside her, he began to contrive in his thoughts a proper coach for her.
Printed by W. Mulready R.A. Engraved by J. B. Neagle.
THE WOLF & THE LAMB.
As soon as he had drawn out the plan in his head, he set about the execution of it with his hands; and by the labour of a few Saturdays, and the sacrifice of a little money that his teacher had given him for some service in the school, he made her an elegant carriage, which he painted with yellow ochre, and emblazoned with his uncle's coat of arms, as he thought he remembered it on the old family coach, belonging to three generations of noblesse in St. Domingo. He had put the infant in her fairy vehicle, and was drawing her toward the house, to show it to his aunt, when Mike Redman appeared. "Hurra, Louy, what have you got there? It looks like a frog in a pumpkin shell." The comparison was not unapt, when he only saw a small head, and two little fat hands, peeping out of a yellow box. "Come, tumble it out here, I want you to go a-fishing, and this wagon will do to carry them home in." "Oh, no, Michael, that is little Susette's." "Oh, never mind, she's able to trot about well enough on her own stumpy legs; but the fish have no feet to walk." "I will bring Antoine's basket." "No, you needn't, this thing here is a great deal better; and we'll keep it for that always. So hurra, Miss Susan, clear out, and run as fast as you can." Saying this, he took the baby from the carriage, and stood her on the ground; upon which she did not cry, but remained looking in his face, with a mixed expression of surprise and dislike, and never offered to stir; Louis, who at the moment was more afraid for Susette than himself, agreed to go with Mike, if he would wait till he carried the child in. Satisfied with his conquest so far, Redman remained; and when Louis returned, they set off,—but this poor boy could not recover the mortification of sacrificing the toy he had made, with such ingenuity, for the use of his little cousin, and with which he thought he should delight her parents, for the portage of Mike Redman's fish: yet, even this was not so painful a sensation, as he felt, when forced by his companion to catch worms, and bait the hooks with them. At the commencement, indeed, he was so much overcome, that he sickened to faintishness, upon which Michael showed so much feeling, as to throw a hat-full of water in his face; from which it descended in streams to his breast, and making his clothes thoroughly wet, promised to add ill-health to the other evils of his constitution. When the boys were returning home, Mike said, "This is a prime thing, Louy—this here wagon, I'm going to keep it, to carry things always; you can easily get another for yourself, if you want." "No, Michael, I cannot, I have not more money." "Oh! well then, you can do without—as you did before you made it." "But, little Susette, she cannot do without it, because she is sick." "Sick—not she, I tell you—she's as stout as any little pig, so you must make her walk." "Oh, no, Michael, she is too little, she cannot walk such a great deal." "To be sure she can—it is the very thing for her; why, she'll grow as round as one of them tubs yonder in our yard, if you let her ride; so, I'll keep the carriage for that; and, look here, Louy, since you're so clever at these sort o' notions, I want you to make me some arrows. You must get me a dozen done by Saturday—that's the last of our holidays, you know—and then, if I shoot any birds a Sunday, I'll give you one or two for your supper." "I do not want them, Michael, I would prefer you let them sing on Sunday."—"Well, I don't want to give you any birds, if you prefer go without—but you must make me the arrows at any rate, and if you don't have them ready, when I call for them, you'll be sorry." What Mike Redman wanted with a dozen arrows and a baby's carriage, I leave to the consideration of those young people, who have witnessed in their companions a premature acuteness in ways of traffic; which discovers itself in the sale, or barter, of all the small wares they can beg or borrow: I omit the other word, so commonly united with these two, because, I trust, that at this period, when education has extended moral influence so far, there is not one, in the whole circle of boyish transgressions, to whom the application of such a word would not be a false and shocking libel. The characters of children then, perhaps, were less attended to; and certainly Mike Redman's parents, though they fed him plentifully, and clothed him fashionably, could never have instructed him in the slightest principle; since he did not give without reluctance, to the poor boy who assisted him materially, a few little fishes to help out his miserable dinner, or scruple to take from him a toy that had cost him three days' labour, and the money that otherwise should have purchased him a new jacket, (which he sadly wanted,) to procure pleasure for his infant relative.
When Louis entered the room, where the family usually assembled, he found the old French gentleman had come to dine with them; though there was nothing on the table, but a dish of okra or gumbo soup, a salad, and an omelette; to which, however, were soon added, through the quick hands of Antoine, Louis's contribution of fish; and surely round any richer board, there was not then assembled a more striking picture of "the sublime and beautiful:" a Christian philosopher cheerfully resigned to the changes of fortune, and his lovely companion, with faithful affection, smiling while she shared his fate. There was so striking a resemblance between Madame Leroy and her nephew, that many persons supposed they were mother and son; and as he was the only child of a beloved sister, that escaped the general death, she loved him as if he had been her own. Mr. Leroy was also related to him in the same degree; his brother having married the mother of Louis,—had this not been the case, however, he would have been fond of him for his wife's sake. He loved every one that she loved, and herself more than all. Little Susette had forgotten her coach, or resigned to its loss, was making smiling faces over her soup as she drafted it from her plate to her mouth, by half spoonfuls at a time. Poor Louis almost forgot his hardships, under a cruel task-master, when he sat down to his temperate meal, with so good an appetite; while the pleasant jests of the gay old gentleman were relished by all the party, with that better philosophy of the French school, which teaches to make the most of the simplest pleasures, and which, I am afraid, few but her own scholars have learned. The next morning Louis arose early, to perform his allotted task, which would have been easy enough, even had he been less expert. His aunt, whom he did not inform that this labour was involuntary, and from whom he had constantly concealed all the other impositions of Mike Redman, gave him a dozen large pins to tip the arrows with, and Antoine cut him the most suitable wood. But light as the task was, his spirit now rebelled at this slavery, and whispered "Be free," so with a revolting soul he finished the arrows. But Michael, whose father had taken him to the country on Saturday, could not call for them before Monday, when they were to go to school. Louis had a satchel made, ready to carry his books neatly; but Mike, whose mother never thought of making him one, was obliged to carry his as well as he could without, and he now threw them down with his cap and gloves, to examine the arrows; little Susette, who was playing in the yard, with a tin cup, and with which she had been making music on the stones, now began to look at the books, and with the usual destructiveness of infancy to the works of literature, she tore some of the leaves out. When Mike had put all the arrows in the quiver, except one, he turned round, and seeing the condition of his books, he flew at the little creature in a rage, as if he would tear her in pieces; and so verify his title to the name of a wolf. The cowardice of Louis at that instant vanished; he sprang forward, and seized the young savage by the collar, while his faithful little dog caught hold of one of the straps of Mike's trowsers. This gave the infant some time to escape, and with terrifying cries she ran toward the house. Her mother came to the door in dreadful alarm, when seeing her nephew closed up against the garden gate, by the powerful shoulders of Mike Redman, (who had his hands clenched,) and the little dog howling at his feet, in extreme pain, she called, in the agony of fear, upon two men, who were looking out from the brewery yard, at the boys' affray, to separate them. "Be aisy, Casper," said one, "and let the boys fight it out, I'll jist step over and see the Frenchman clear o' the fence." "Put I'll see de Frenchman clear o' Mike, Patrick; mine hearts, de poy wouldn't stant no chance at all mit him." With these separate intentions, they both sallied forth, and approached the combatants. Pat released the Frenchman, but Mike, resisting the interference of such authority, was knocked down by the German; who, as an excuse for himself, when he was called upon by Mr. Redman to relate the whole transaction, offered this:—"In my country, de poys are prought up to mind the sayins o' pigger people." Mr. Redman, who was not himself an unjust man, admitted the apology, and soon after, considering, perhaps, though it was then too late, that he did not properly control his vicious propensities, while he exposed them to continual increase in the contaminating sphere around him, he sent Michael to school at a distance from home, and recompensed his little neighbour, by many acts of kindness, for the cruel oppression of his son. When I asked the person, who told me this story, what became of the two boys in after life, he said, Michael Redman inherited a large property, which he soon spent; after this he went to sea; and I would, probably, never have learned his final fate, had he not been announced in the newspapers, some years after, with an alias to his name, among a number of men who were executed for piracy. In process of time, Louis Leroy married his young cousin Susette; and proved, through a long course of years, his filial affection to her parents. He contrived to add to his small patrimony by several useful inventions, which were patented in the state. He reared up a numerous family, with the same frugal and temperate habits that he had been taught, and under the same roof which had sheltered his own boyhood; while all the other habitations that had risen around him were constantly changing their owners and inmates. Behold the just end of "Le Loup et L'Agneau."