Hardy bowed and his face glowed with pleasure, whilst everybody present sympathized in his feelings.
“I am sure,” thought Loveit, “this is a lesson I shall never forget.”
“Gentlemen,” said the old man, with a faltering voice, “it wasn’t for the sake of my apples that I spoke; and you, sir,” said he to Hardy, “I thank you for saving my dog. If you please, I’ll plant on that mount, opposite the window, a young apple-tree, from my old one. I will water it, and take care of it with my own hands for your sake, as long as I am able. And may God bless you!” laying his trembling hand on Hardy’s head; “may God bless you—I’m sure God will bless all such boys as you are.”
THE BASKET-WOMAN.
“Toute leur étude était de se complaire et de s’entr’aider.” [365a]
Paul et Virginie.
At the foot of a steep, slippery, white hill, near Dunstable, in Bedfordshire, called Chalk Hill, there is a hut, or rather a hovel, which travellers could scarcely suppose could be inhabited, if they did not see the smoke rising from its peaked roof. An old woman lives in this hovel, [365b] and with her a little boy and girl, the children of a beggar who died, and left these orphans perishing with hunger. They thought themselves very happy when the good old woman first took them into her hut and bid them warm themselves at her small fire, and gave them a crust of mouldy bread to eat. She had not much to give, but what she had she gave with good-will. She was very kind to these poor children, and worked hard at her spinning-wheel and at her knitting, to support herself and them. She earned money also in another way. She used to follow all the carriages as they went up Chalk Hill, and when the horses stopped to take breath or to rest themselves, she put stones behind the carriage wheels to prevent them from rolling backwards down the steep, slippery hill.
The little boy and girl loved to stand beside the good natured old woman’s spinning-wheel when she was spinning, and to talk to her. At these times she taught them something, which, she said, she hoped they would remember all their lives. She explained to them what is meant by telling the truth, and what it is to be honest. She taught them to dislike idleness, and to wish that they could be useful.
One evening, as they were standing beside her, the little boy said to her, “Grandmother,” for that was the name by which she liked that these children should call her—“grandmother, how often you are forced to get up from your spinning-wheel, and to follow the chaises and coaches up that steep hill, to put stones underneath the wheels, to hinder them from rolling back! The people who are in the carriages give you a halfpenny or a penny for doing this, don’t they?”
“Yes, child.”
“But it is very hard work for you to go up and down that hill. You often say that you are tired, and then you know that you cannot spin all that time. Now if we might go up the hill, and put the stones behind the wheels, you could sit still at your work, and would not the people give us the halfpence? and could not we bring them all to you? Do, pray, dear grandmother, try us for one day—to-morrow, will you?”