Joseph, who sleeps in the garret at the old end of the house, after having been some time in bed, came down stairs in his shirt, as pale as ashes, and frightened the maids, who were going up. It was some time before he could tell what was the matter; at length, he said he had heard some dreadful noises overhead, which he was sure must be made by some ghost or evil spirit; nay, he thought he had seen something moving, though he owned he durst hardly lift up his eyes. He concluded with declaring, that he would rather sit up all night in the kitchen than go to his room again. The maids were almost as much alarmed as he, and did not know what to do; but their master overhearing their talk, came out and insisted upon their accompanying him to the spot, in order to search into the affair. They all went into the garret, and for a while heard nothing; when their master ordered the candle to be taken away, and every one to keep quite still. Joseph and the maids stuck close to each other, and trembled every limb. At length, a kind of groaning or snoring began to be heard, which grew louder and louder, with intervals of a strange sort of hissing. “That’s it!” whispered Joseph, drawing back toward the door—the maids were ready to sink, and even the farmer himself was a little disconcerted. The noise seemed to come from the rafters near the thatch. In a while a glimpse of moonlight shining through a hole at the place, plainly discovered the shadow of something stirring; and on looking intently, something like feathers was perceived. The farmer now began to suspect what the case was; and ordering up a short ladder bid Joseph climb to the spot, and thrust his hand into the hole. This he did rather unwillingly, and soon drew it back, crying loudly that he was bit. However, gathering courage, he put it in again, and pulled out a large white owl, another at the same time being heard to fly away. The cause of the alarm was now made clear enough; and poor Joseph, after being heartily jeered by the maids, though they had been as much frightened as he, sneaked into bed, and the house soon became quiet.
THE PRICE OF PLEASURE.
“I think I will take a ride,” said the little Lord Linger, after breakfast; “bring me my boots, and let my horse be brought to the door.”
The horse was saddled, and his lordship’s spurs were putting on.
“No,” said he, “I’ll have my low chair and the ponies, and take a drive round the park.”
The horse was led back, and the ponies were almost harnessed, when his lordship sent his valet to countermand them. He would walk into the cornfield, and see how the new pointer hunted.
“After all,” says he, “I think I will stay at home, and play a game or two at billiards.”
He played half a game, but could not make a stroke to please himself. His tutor, who was present, now thought it a good opportunity to ask his lordship if he would read a little.
“Why—I think—I will; for I am tired of doing nothing. What shall we have?”
“Your lordship left off last time in one of the finest passages of the Æneid. Suppose we finish it?”
“Well—ay; but—no—I had rather go on with Hume’s history. Or—suppose we do some geography?”
“With all my heart. The globes are upon the study-table.”
They went to the study; and the little lord, leaning upon his elbows, looked at the globe—then twirled it round two or three times—and then listened patiently while the tutor explained some of its parts and uses. But while he was in the midst of a problem, “Come,” said his lordship, “now for a little Virgil.”
The book was brought; and the pupil, with a good deal of help, got through twenty lines.
“Well,” said he, ringing the bell, “I think we have done a good deal. Tom! bring my bow and arrows.”
The fine London-made bow, in its green case, and the quiver with all its appurtenances, were brought, and his lordship went down to the place where the shooting-butts were erected. He aimed a few shots at the target, but not coming near it, he shot all the remainder at random, and then ordered out his horse.
He sauntered, with a servant at his heels, for a mile or two through the lanes, and came, just as the clock struck twelve, to a village-green, close by which a school was kept. A door flew open, and out burst a shoal of boys, who, spreading over the green, with immoderate vociferation, instantly began a variety of sports. Some fell to marbles, some to trap-ball, some to leap-frog. In short, not one of the whole crew but was eagerly employed. Everything was noise, motion, and pleasure. Lord Linger, riding slowly up, espied one of his tenants’ sons, who had been formerly admitted as a playfellow of his, and called him from the throng.
“Jack,” said he, “how do you like school?”
“O, pretty well, my lord.”
“What—have you a good deal of play?”
“O no! We have only from twelve to two for playing and eating our dinners; and then an hour before supper.”
“That is very little, indeed!”
“But we play heartily when we do play, and work when we work. Good-by, my lord! it is my turn to go in at trap!”
So saying, Jack ran off.
“I wish I was a school-boy!” cried the little lord to himself.
THE RAT WITH A BELL.—A Fable.
A large old house in the country was so extremely infested with rats that nothing could be secured from their depredations. They scaled the walls to attack flitches of bacon, though hung as high as the ceiling. Hanging shelves afforded no protection to the cheese and pastry. They penetrated by sap into the store-room, and plundered it of preserves and sweetmeats. They gnawed through cupboard-doors, undermined floors, and ran races behind the wainscots. The cats could not get at them; they were too cunning and too well fed to meddle with poison; and traps only now and then caught a heedless straggler. One of these, however, on being taken, was the occasion of practising a new device. This was, to fasten a collar with a small bell about the prisoner’s neck, and then turn him loose again.
Overjoyed at the recovery of his liberty, the rat ran into the nearest hole, and went in search of his companions. They heard at a distance the bell tinkle-tinkle through the dark passages, and suspecting some enemy had got among them, away they scoured, some one way and some another. The bell-bearer pursued; and soon guessing the cause of their flight, he was greatly amused by it. Wherever he approached, it was all hurry-scurry, and not a tail of one of them was to be seen. He chased his old friends from hole to hole, and room to room, laughing all the while at their fears, and increasing them by all the means in his power. Presently, he had the whole house to himself. “That’s right,” quoth he, “the fewer the better cheer.” So he rioted alone among the good things, and stuffed till he could hardly walk.
For two or three days this course of life went on very pleasantly. He ate, and ate, and played the bugbear to perfection. At length, he grew tired of this lonely condition, and longed to mix with his companions again upon the former footing. But the difficulty was, how to get rid of his bell. He pulled and tugged with his fore-feet, and almost wore the skin off his neck in the attempt, but all in vain. The bell was now his plague and torment. He wandered from room to room earnestly desiring to make himself known to one of his companions, but they all kept out of his reach. At last, as he was moping about disconsolate he fell in puss’s way, and was devoured in an instant.
He who is raised so much above his fellow-creatures as to be the object of their terror, must suffer for it in losing all the comforts of society. He is a solitary being in the midst of crowds. He keeps them at a distance,