However, it was very wrong in us to go into another person’s garden without leave; and we soon found that every wrong thing brings its punishment with it sooner or later.
There was a little summer house in the garden, near that part of the fence which separated it from the street. There were some bushes so near that Joanna and I took the bold resolution to climb up by them, so as to get on the roof of the summer house, and there to look over the fence into the street. Thought, said, done.
Proud, triumphant, and glad, we found ourselves, after a quarter of an hour’s labour, on the much-promised roof, and richly were we repaid for our trouble. We had a full view of the street. We saw, now and then, an old woman with a milk-cart, sometimes a gentleman in a chaise, and when we were in great luck, a lady with a parasol; and, still better, we had even a distinct perspective of King street, and had the indescribable delight of seeing a crowd of walkers and idlers, on horseback and in carriages, passing by. The whole world seemed to be moving there. After we had once seen this, we could not live without seeing it again.
One day,—I remember it as if it were yesterday,—one day we had taken our high post, and were looking curiously upon the world in King street. All at once we saw a stately rider on horseback, and directly after him a pair of white horses, drawing a splendid carriage. That must be the queen!—perhaps the king himself! Out of our senses with delight, we began to clap our hands and hurra loudly. At the same moment we heard the notary coughing in the garden. We were dreadfully frightened. We wanted to get down quickly from the roof, and hide ourselves among the trees; but, in our alarm, we could not find the right places for our hands and feet. Joanna rolled like a ball over the notary’s strawberry bed, and I remained hanging by the chin to a great nail in the plank, and screaming as if out of my senses. See! here is the scar by the nail, it can be seen even now.——
These youthful adventures were related to amuse two little girls, who were suffering under a disappointment, having been prevented from going out to see an exhibition of fire-works. When their governess had reached this point in her story, a more than delicate supper was announced, and the children ran off to enjoy it, without stopping to inquire farther about the scar on the good lady’s chin.
(From the President’s Daughters by F. Bremer.)