“A paradise, Ned!” exclaimed Mrs. Sackville, “do you remember that Milton says,
Now morn her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak'd?
If you would be a tiller of the earth, Ned, you must learn to like early rising and hard work, better than you do now, and not go on living so like the lilies of the field, that are clothed, though they toil not.” Edward looked a little crest-fallen.
“Your self-confidence provoked a gentle rebuke,” said his father; “but it is a very common mistake, my dear son, for those much older than you are, to fancy they should avoid the faults others commit, if placed in their situation. But, before you permit such a presumption, be sure that you have resisted all the temptations in your own path, and have performed all the duties which belong to the sphere Providence has assigned to you. Here we are at the close of our day's journey, and my admonition comes in very well, like the moral at the end of a tale; this I think is one of the prettiest places on the river. If I mistake not, the village opposite to us is Palatine.”
The party alighted at Mrs. B's inn. The children entreated their mother to take her port-folio, and stroll with them along the bank of the river, while the tea was getting in readiness.
As they came opposite the ferry, they stopped for a moment to look at a scow approaching the shore. There were several men in it, and among them a black lad, who, at the moment the boat touched the shore, either by accident, or by the contrivance of his mischievous companions, fell overboard. While they gave way to a burst of merriment, the poor blackey regained a footing on terra firma, and shook the water from his woolly locks and dripping garments.
“You an't white yet, Cuffee,” said one of his persecutors. “Look if he has dyed the water,” said another.
“Don't laugh,” said Julia to Edward, who, with a boyish love of fun, had joined in the laugh; “it is too bad to laugh at the poor fellow.”
“You are right, Julia,” said Mrs. Sackville. “It is hard to belong to a degraded caste, to be born to the inheritance of jibes and jokes.”
They continued their walk a little farther down the bank, discovering new beauties at every step, till they came to a spot which Julia insisted could not be surpassed; and arranging a nice cushion on the grass with her shawl, she begged her mother to make a sketch there. “Now, mama,” she said, “you must take both sides of the river.”