Young Folks Treasury Volume 3 (of 12) by Hamilton Wright Mabie (best romantic novels to read .txt) 📕

stuck, and by which means it was scattered all over the carpet.

"Limby, my darling!" said his mother; and the servant was called to wipe Limby's mug and pick the pudding up from the floor.

Limby would not have his mug wiped, and floundered about, and upset the cruet-stand and the mustard on the table-cloth.

"Oh, Limby Lumpy-naughty boy!" said his father.

"Don't speak so cross to the child: he is but a child," said his mother. "I don't like to hear you speak so cross to the child."

"I tell you what it is," said his father, "I think the boy does as he likes. But I don't want to interfere."

Limby now sat still, resolving what to do next. He was not hungry, having been stuffed with a large piece of pound-cake about an hour before dinner; but he wanted something to do, and could not sit still.

Presently a saddle of mutton was brought on the table. When Limby saw this he set up a crow of delight.

"Limby ride," said he-"Limby ride!" and rose up in his chair, as if to reach the dish.

"Yes, my ducky, it shall have some mutton," said his mother, and immediately gave him a slice, cut up into small morsels.

That was not it. Limby pushed that on the floor, and cried out: "Limby on meat! Limby on meat!"

His mother could not think what he meant. At last, however, his father recollected that he had been in the habit of giving him a ride occasionally, first on his foot, sometimes on the scroll end of the sofa, at other times on the top of the easy chair. Once he put him on a dog, and more than once on the saddle; in short, he had been in the habit of perching him on various things, and now Limby, hearing this was a saddle of mutton, wanted to take a ride on it.

"Limby on! Limby ride on bone!" said the child in a whimper.

"Did you ever hear ?" said the father.

"What an extraordinary child!" said the mother. "How clever to know it was like a saddle, the little dear! No, no, Limby; grease frock, Limby."

But Limby cared nothing about a greasy frock, not he-he was used enough to that-and therefore roared out more lustily for a ride on the mutton.

"Did you ever know such a child? What a dear, determined spirit!"

"He is a child of an uncommon mind," said his mother. "Limby, dear-Limby, dear, silence! silence!"

The truth was, Limby made such a roaring that neither father nor mother could get their dinners, and scarcely knew whether they were eating beef or mutton.

"It is impossible to let him ride on the mutton," said his father-"quite impossible!"

"Well, but you might just put him astride the dish, just to satisfy him. You can take care his legs or clothes do not go into the gravy."

"Anything for a quiet life," said the father. "What does Limby want? Limby ride?"

"Limby on bone! Limby on meat!"

"Shall I put him across?" said Mr. Lumpy.

"Just for one moment," said his mother; "it won't hurt the mutton."

The father rose, and took Limby from his chair, and, with the greatest caution, held his son's legs astride, so that they might hang on each side of the dish without touching it-"just to satisfy him," as he said, "that they might dine in quiet-" and was about to withdraw him from it immediately.

But Limby was not to be cheated in that way. He wished to feel the saddle under him, and accordingly forced himself down upon it; but feeling it rather warmer than was agreeable, started, and lost his balance, and fell down among the dishes, soused in melted butter, cauliflower, and gravy, floundering, and kicking, and screaming, to the detriment of glasses, jugs, dishes, and everything else on the table.

"My child! my child!" said his mother. "Oh, save my child!"

She snatched him up, and pressed his begreased garments close to the bosom of her best silk gown.

Neither father nor mother wanted any more dinner after this. As to Limby, he was as frisky afterwards as if nothing had happened, and about half an hour from the time of this disaster cried for his dinner.


THE SORE TONGUE

By JANE TAYLOR


There was a little girl called Fanny, who had the misfortune one day to bite her tongue as she was eating her breakfast. It hurt her so much that she could scarcely help crying; and even when the first smart was over, it continued so sore that whenever she spoke it pained her considerably. Finding this to be the case, she said very pitifully to her mother, "Mamma, you can't think how it hurts me when I speak!" "Does it?" replied her mother; "then I'll tell you what I would advise you to do. Resolve all this day to say nothing but what is either necessary or useful; this will give your tongue a fine holiday, and may answer more purposes than one."

Fanny, knowing that she had the character of being somewhat loquacious, could not help laughing at this, and said, "Well, I will try for once; so, mum! I am going to begin now, mamma."

Mother . Do so; and whenever you are beginning to speak, be sure you ask yourself whether what you were going to say was likely to be of any use, or whether it was necessary.

Fanny . Yes, yes, I will! but don't talk to me, mamma, for fear. So saying, she screwed up her lips, and taking her work, sat for about five minutes as still as a mouse. She then looked up, smiled and nodded at her mother, as much as to say, "See how well I can hold my tongue," still screwing her lips very tight for fear she should speak. Soon, however, she began to feel a great inclination to say something; and was glad to recollect that if she could but think of anything either useful or necessary, she might speak. Whereupon she endeavored to find something to say that would come "within the act." To aid her invention, she looked all round the room.

Fanny . Mamma, don't you think the fire wants stirring? (This question, she thought, savored of both qualifications.)

Mother . Not at present, my dear.

Then followed another long silence; for Fanny found it vastly more difficult than she had any previous idea of, to think of anything useful to talk about; and she knew her mamma would laugh at her if she said what was obviously idle or silly, just now. She was beginning to repent having made such an agreement, when her three elder sisters entered the room. She now thought it quite reasonable, if not absolutely necessary, to tell them of her misfortune; which she did at considerable length, and with many needless digressions (the usual custom with great talkers); upon which they all laughed, prophesying that her resolution would not last half an hour, and rallying her for telling such a long story with a sore tongue.

Soon after, some ladies called to pay their mother a morning visit. This gave Fanny's tongue such a long rest that the moment they were gone it seemed irresistibly to resume its wonted functions.

Fanny . What a while old Mrs. W. has had that brown satin pelisse! Really, poor old lady, I am quite tired of seeing her in it!

Mother . How is your tongue, Fanny?

Fanny . Oh, better, mamma, thank you-almost well.

Mother . I am sorry for it: I was in hopes it would have been sore enough at least to prevent your making impertinent remarks upon anybody all this day.

Fanny . No, but really, mamma, is it not an old rubbishing thing?

Mother . I don't know, indeed. It is no business of mine; therefore I took no notice of it.

A silence ensued after this; but conversation revived when Caroline, who had stood for some time with her eyes fixed on their opposite neighbor's window, suddenly exclaimed, "I do believe the Joneses are going to have company again to-day! The servant has just been lighting the fire in the drawing-room; and there is Miss Jones now gone up to dress. I saw her draw down the blinds in her room this instant." "So she is," said Lucy, looking up: "I never knew such people in my life! they are always having company."

"I wonder whom they are expecting to-day," said Eliza; "dinner-company, I suppose."

The proceedings of their neighbors, the Joneses, continued to furnish matter for various sagacious conjectures and remarks for a considerable time. At length Caroline exclaimed with the eagerness of discovery, "Look! look! there's the baker now at the door, with a whole tray full of tarts and things. Make haste, or he'll be gone in."

Lucy . So he is, I declare; it is a dinner-party then. Well, we shall see presently, I hope, who are coming.

Caroline . Oh, no, they never dine till five when they have company.

Eliza . And it will be dark then; how tiresome!

Lucy . If Miss Jones is not dressed already! She is this instant come into the drawing-room.

Caroline . Stand back, stand back! Don't let her see us all staring. Ah, there she is,-got on her pink sarcenet body and sleeves to-day. How pretty that dress is, to be sure!

Eliza . And how nicely she has done her hair! Look, Caroline-braided behind.

Lucy . There, she is putting down the sash. That chimney smokes, I know, with this wind.

Fanny . And there is that little figure, Martha Jones, come down now. Do look-as broad as she is long! What a little fright that child is, to be sure!

Mother . Pray, Fanny, was that remark useful or necessary?

Fanny . Oh, but mamma, I assure you, my tongue is quite well now.

Mother . I am sorry for it, my dear. Do you know, I should think it well worth while to bite my tongue every day if there were no other means of keeping it in order.

At this the girls laughed; but their mother, resuming her gravity, thus continued:

"My dear girls, I should before now have put a stop to this idle gossiping, if I had not hoped to convince you of the folly of it. It is no wonder, I confess, that at your age you should learn to imitate a style of remark which is but too prevalent in society. Nothing, indeed, is more contagious. But let me also tell you, that girls of your age, and of your advantages, are capable of seeing the meanness of it, and ought to despise it. It is the chief end of education to raise the minds of women above such trifling as this. But if a young person who has been taught to think, whose taste has been cultivated, and who might therefore possess internal resources, has as much idle curiosity about the affairs of her neighbors, and is as fond of retailing petty scandal concerning them, as an uneducated woman, it proves that her mind is incurably mean and vulgar, and that cultivation is lost upon her.

"This sort of gossiping, my dear girls, is the disgrace of our sex. The pursuits of women lie necessarily