Jemima Placid; or, The Advantage of Good-Nature

by Mary Ann Kilner

MY DEAR SISTER;

As William writes so very slowly, and as papa does not think he should scribble at all, he has desired me to inform you of every thing that has passed since you left us. And first I must acquaint you with a sad accident, which will render one of your commissions useless. Poor Hector, the day after you went away, was lost for several hours. We went to every house in the village, and hunted behind every tomb in the church-yard; called, Hector! Hector! through all the fields, and then returned and sought him in our own garden again; looked under the bench in the poultry-yard, nay, even in the cellar and coal-hole; but no Hector returned. We sat down together on the bottom stair in the hall, and William cried ready to break his heart. Papa said he was sorry; but told us our tears would not bring him back, and advised us to bear the loss of him with more fortitude; took William on his lap, and read a story to divert him. We got tolerably cheerful, and went down to tea; but as soon as my brother took up his bread and butter, the thoughts of Hector always jumping up to him for a bit, and how he would bark, and snap in play at his fingers, quite overcame his firmness, and he could not touch a morsel. Well, to make short of the story, the next morning John came in and told papa, that 'Squire Sutton's game-keeper, not knowing to whom he belonged, had shot him for running after the deer.—Why now, said I, if he had but stayed away from the park till Jemima had brought him a collar, he would not have been killed. Poor Hector! I shall hate Ben Hunt as long as I live for it.—Fie, Charles! said my father.—Hector is dead, Sir, said I; and I did not then stay to hear any farther. But since that, we have talked a great deal about love and forgiveness; and I find I must love Ben Hunt, even though I now see poor Hector's tomb in the garden. For John went to fetch him, and we buried him under the lilac-tree, on the right hand side, just by the large sun-flower; and we cried a great deal, and made a card tomb-stone over his grave; and papa gave us an old hat-band, and we cut it into pieces, and we went as mourners. His coffin was carried by Tom Wood, the carpenter's son, whose father was so kind as to make it for us; while James Stavely (the clerk's nephew), my brother, and I, followed as chief mourners; and old Nurse and Peggy put on their black hoods, which they had when Jane Thompson died, and went with us; and we had the kitchen table-cloth for a pall, with the old black wrapper put over it which used to cover the parrot's cage; but we did not read any thing, for that would not have been right; as you know, after all, he was but a dog. Papa, however, to please us, wrote the following epitaph, which I very carefully transcribed, and affixed over his grave:—

Here Hector lies, more bless'd by far,
Than he who drove the victor's car;
Who once Patroclus did subdue,
And suffer'd for the conquest too.
Like him, o'ercome by cruel fate,
Stern fortune's unrelenting hate;
An equal doom severe he found,
And Hunt inflicts the deadly wound.
Less cruel than Pelides, he
His manes were pursuits to be;
And satisfied to see him fall,
Ne'er dragg'd him round the Trojan wall.

I am very sorry for the poor fellow's untimely end; and so, I dare say, you will be.—Our rabbit has kindled; and we have one in particular the skin of which is white, with black spots, the prettiest I ever saw, and which we have called Jemima, and will give it to you when you return.—Peggy has sprained her ancle, by a fall down stairs. I forgot my wooden horse, and left it in the way; and she came down in the dark, and stumbled over it. I was very sorry, and my papa was much displeased, as it is what he has so often cautioned us against.—Jack Dough, the baker's boy, brought me a linnet yesterday, which I have placed in a cage near your canary-bird; who is very well.—I do not think I have much more to say, for writing is such tedious work that I am quite tired, though what I have done has been a fortnight in hand. I have a great many things which I want to tell you if we could meet; and I should wish to know how you like London. Good bye! William desires his love to you, and bids me say, that he, as well as myself, will ever be

Your affectionate Brother,
Charles Placid.

P. S. Inclosed I have sent you a sketch of Hector's funeral procession, which your favourite, Ned Kindly, who was one of the party, drew on purpose for you.

You may be sure that the intelligence of Hector's death gave Jemima some uneasiness; more especially, as at the first time Mr. Steward had called, she was out with her aunt, and actually purchased a collar for him; which, before the receipt of her letter, she had contemplated with great satisfaction, in the idea of having so well executed her brothers' commission, and the pleasure it would afford them.

When Miss Placid had been in town about four months, and her mamma was returned from Bristol, Mr. Placid came up to fetch her home, and invited her cousins to accompany her to Smiledale, promising to take great care of them, and to teach them to read and write; and that Mrs. Placid would instruct them in every other part of their learning. To which Mr. and Mrs. Piner consented. The pleasure which Jemima felt at seeing her papa after so long an absence, can be better imagined than described. She looked at him with such transport, that the tears started to her eyes; and wanting words to declare the feelings of her heart, could only express her joy by stroking and kissing his hand, as she sat on a stool by his side; and pressing it with fervor between both hers, she exclaimed, that she was glad to see him. Her uncle and aunt gave her the highest praise for her good-behaviour, and assured her papa, that they had never, during the whole time of her visit, seen her once out of humour, or at all fretful upon any occasion. Mr. Placid said he was extremely happy to hear so good an account of his little girl; but that he expected every thing amiable from the sweetness of her disposition; adding, it would be very strange if she had behaved otherwise with you, as, I assure you, she is at all times equally tractable and engaging. The evening before her departure, her aunt was so obliging as to present her with a new doll, which she had taken great pains to dress, and had made for it two dimity petticoats, with a nice pair of stays, a pink sattin coat, and a muslin frock. She had likewise purchased some cotton stockings, and a pair of red shoes with white roses, white gloves tied with pink strings, and a gauze cap with pink sattin ribbons. Jemima, with a graceful courtesy, paid her acknowledgments to Mrs. Piner for that favour, and all the kind attentions she had received since she had been in town, and saw it packed up with great care in a box by itself; pleasing herself with the joy it would afford her, to show it to her mamma. She then busied herself in putting up the Indian glue, and a great quantity of pictures which had been given her; poor Hector's collar, and several books which she had bought and had already perused with much delight, particularly A Course of Lectures for Sunday Evenings; The Village School, and Perambulation of a Mouse, 2 vols. each; together with the First Principles of Religion, and the Adventures of a Pincushion. All these mighty volumes she took with her to Smiledale, and Mr. Placid was so much pleased with them, as to send for an additional supply to present to his friends. As to the skates, he had desired her not to think about them as he should by no means approve of her brothers' using them; nor would they have occasion for a coach-whip; but as he knew Charles had broken his bat, she might carry him one instead. Jemima entreated permission to convey to them a drum, as she thought it would be a play-thing they would much enjoy; to this he immediately consented, and went himself to procure one.