WILLIAM AND AMELIA.
In a pleasant village, at some distance from the metropolis, lived Lord and Lady Russel, who had brought up an orphan, named William, from his infancy; and had a stranger to the family seen in what a tender manner he was treated, he would have supposed him to be their son. This amiable couple had only one child living, a daughter, named Amelia, who was nearly of the same age with William, and the lady was pleased to see that the two children had something beyond a common attachment for each other.
William and Amelia were one fine summer morning sauntering in the orchard with their little friend Charlotte, whose parents lived in the neighbourhood. Of the little misses, Amelia was the youngest, and not quite eight years of age. They were walking arm and arm, and humming over a pretty song, then fashionable in the village collection of Ballads. At the same time William was walking before them, at some little distance, amusing himself with a shepherd's pipe.
While Amelia and Charlotte were thus rambling about, they cast their eyes on some beautiful apples that hung on a fine tree, from which all the fruit had been supposed to be gathered; but the branches had hidden some from view, and in course had escaped the notice of the gatherers. The beautiful vermilion with which these apples were tinged, and which the leaves could not entirely hide, seemingly invited the hand to come and take them. William instantly climbed the tree they were admiring, and threw down as many apples as he could reach, while the ladies below held their aprons to catch them as they fell.
Chance directed it, that two or three, which were considered as the finest, fell into the apron of Charlotte, who was much pleased with this accidental distribution, as she might with reason have been, had a premeditated preference been the cause of it; for William was in reality the politest and prettiest little fellow in the village.
Charlotte, with joy and triumph in her eyes, thus addressed herself to Amelia: "Only see how fine and large my apples are, while yours are nothing to compare to them!" Amelia was very much displeased with these words; she hung down her head, and putting on a serious countenance, remained silent during the remainder of the walk. William, by a hundred assiduities, endeavoured to recover Amelia's cheerfulness, again to spread a smile on her clouded countenance, and make her renew her usual pleasing prattle.
As soon as they arrived near home, Charlotte took her leave. Little William then addressed his sister, for by that tender name he always called her, and asked her why she seemed so angry with him. "Certainly," said he, "you cannot be angry at Charlotte having her share of the apples. You very well know that I always loved you best, and therefore endeavoured to throw into your apron those apples, which, by chance, fell into Charlotte's. You must be sensible, that I could not afterwards take them from her. Besides, I thought you of too generous a disposition to take notice of such trifles. Be assured, the first opportunity that shall offer, I will give you a convincing proof that I had no design to vex you, whatever you may at present think of my intentions."