The Life and Perambulations of a Mouse
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Dorothy Kilner >> The Life and Perambulations of a Mouse
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John drank to the bottom of the mug, and then shaking the last
drop into the ashes under the grate, he told the following story,
as he sat swinging the mug by its handle across his two
forefingers, which he had joined for that purpose.
'When my father was a young man he lived at one Mr. Speedgo's, as
upper footman: they were vastly rich. Mr. Speedgo was a
merchant, and by good luck he gathered gold as fast as his
neighbours would pick up stones (as a body may say). So they kept
two or three carriages, there was a coach, and a chariot, and a
phaeton, and I can't tell what besides, and a power of servants
you may well suppose to attend them all; and very well they lived,
with plenty of victuals and drink. But though they wanted for
nothing still they never much loved either their master or
mistress, they used to give their orders in so haughty and
imperious a manner; and if asked a civil question, answer so
shortly, as if they thought their servants not worthy of their
notice: so that, in short, no one loved them, nor their children
either, for they brought them up just like themselves, to despise
everyone poorer than they were; and to speak as cross to their
servants as if they had been so many adders they were afraid would
bite them.
'I have heard my father say, that if Master Speedgo wanted his
horse to be got ready, he would say, "Saddle my horse!" in such a
displeasing manner as made it quite a burthen to do anything for
him. Or if the young ladies wanted a piece of bread and butter,
or cake, they would say, "Give me a bit of cake;" or, if they
added the word pray to it, they spoke in such a grumpy way, as
plainly showed they thought themselves a deal better than their
servants; forgetting that an honest servant is just as worthy a
member of society as his master, and whilst he behaves well, as
much deserving of civility as anybody. But to go on with my
story. I have already told you Mr. Speedgo was very rich and very
proud, nor would he on any account suffer anyone to visit at his
house whom he thought below him, as he called it; or at least, if
he did, he always took care to behave to them in such a manner, as
plainly to let them know he thought he showed a mighty favour in
conversing with them.
'Among the rest of the servants there was one Molly Mount, as good
a hearted girl, my father says, as ever lived: she had never
received much education, because her parents could not afford to
give her any, and she learned to read after she was at Mr.
Speedgo's from one of the housemaids, who was kind enough to teach
her a little; but you may suppose, from such sort of teaching, she
was no very good scholar. However, she read well enough to be
able to make out some chapters in the Bible; and an excellent use
she made of them, carefully fulfilling every duty she there found
recommended as necessary for a Christian to practice. She used
often to say she was perfectly contented in her station, and only
wished for more money that she might have it in her power to do
more good. And sometimes, when she was dressing and attending the
young ladies of the family, she would advise them to behave
prettier than they did; telling them, "That by kindness and
civility they would be so far from losing respect, that, on the
contrary, they would much gain it. For we cannot (she would very
truly say) have any respect for those people who seem to forget
their human nature, and behave as if they thought themselves
superior to the rest of their fellow-creatures. Young ladies and
gentlemen have no occasion to make themselves very intimate or
familiar with their servants; but everybody ought to speak civilly
and good-humouredly, let it be to whom it may: and if I was a
lady I should make it a point never to look cross or speak gruffly
to the poor, for fear they should think I forgot I was of the same
human nature as they were." By these kind of hints, which every
now and then she would give to the misses, they were prodigiously
offended, and complained of her insolence, as they called it, to
their mamma, who very wrongly, instead of teaching them to behave
better, joined with them in blaming Molly for her freedom, and, to
show her displeasure at her conduct, put on a still haughtier air,
whenever she spoke to her, than she did to any other of the
servants. Molly, however, continued to behave extremely well, and
often very seriously lamented in the kitchen the wrong behaviour
of the family. "I don't mind it," she would say, "for my own
part; I know that I do my duty, and their cross looks and proud
behaviour can do me no real harm: but I cannot help grieving for
their sakes; it distresses me to think that people who ought to
know better, should, by their ill conduct, make themselves so many
enemies, when they could so easily gain friends--I am astonished
how anybody can act so foolishly."
'In this sensible manner she would frequently talk about the sin
as well as the folly of pride. And one day, as she was talking to
her fellow-servants, rather louder than in prudence she ought to
have done, her two young ladies overheard her; and the next time
she went to dress them, they enquired what it was she had been
saying to the other maids. "Indeed, ladies," said she, "I hope
you will excuse my telling you. I think, if you give yourselves
time to reflect a little, you will not insist upon knowing, as it
is beneath such rich ladies as you are, to concern yourselves with
what poor servants talk about." This answer did not, however,
satisfy them, and they positively commanded her to let them know.
Molly was by far too good a woman to attempt to deceive anyone;
she therefore replied, "If, ladies, you insist upon knowing what I
said, I hope you will not take anything amiss that I may tell you,
thus compelled as I am by your commands. You must know then, Miss
Betsy and Miss Rachael, that I was saying how sad a thing it was
for people to be proud because they are rich; or to fancy, because
they happen to have a little more money, that for that reason they
are better than their servants, when in reality the whole that
makes one person better than another is, having superior virtues,
being kinder and more good natured, and readier to assist and
serve their fellow-creatures; these are the qualifications, I was
saying, that make people beloved, and not being possessed of
money. Money may, indeed, procure servants to do their business
for them, but it is not in the power of all the riches in the
world to purchase the love and esteem of anyone. What a sad thing
then it is, when gentlefolks behave so as to make themselves
despised; and that will ever be the case with all those who, like
(excuse me, ladies, you insisted upon my telling you what I said)
Miss Betsy, and Miss Rachael, and Master James, show such contempt
to all their inferiors. Nobody could wish children of their
fortunes to make themselves too free, or play with their servants;
but if they were little kings and queens, still they ought to
speak kind and civil to everyone. Indeed our king and queen would
scorn to behave like the children of this family, and if--" She
was going on, but they stopped her, saying, "If you say another
word, we will push you out of the room this moment, you rude,
bold, insolent woman; you ought to be ashamed of speaking so
disrespectfully of your betters; but we will tell our mamma, that
we will, and she won't suffer you to allow your tongue such
liberties." "If," replied Molly, "I have offended you, I am sorry
for it, and beg your pardon, ladies; I am sure I had no wish to do
so; and you should remember that you both insisted upon my telling
you what I had been saying." "So we did," said they, "but you had
no business to say it all; and I promise you my mamma shall know
it."
'In this manner they went on for some time; but, to make short of
my story, they represented the matter in such a manner to their
mother, that she dismissed Molly from her service, with a strict
charge never to visit the house again. "For," said Mrs. Speedgo,
"no servant who behaves as you have done, shall ever enter my
doors again, or eat another mouthful in my house." Molly had no
desire so suddenly to quit her place; but as her conscience
perfectly acquitted her of any wilful crime, after receiving her
wages, respectfully wishing all the family their health, and
taking a friendly leave of her fellow-servants, she left the
house, and soon engaged herself as dairy-maid in a farmer's
family, about three miles off; in which place she behaved so
extremely well, and so much to the satisfaction of her master and
mistress, that, after she had lived there a little more than two
years, with their entire approbation, she was married to their
eldest son, a sober, worthy young man, to whom his father gave a
fortune not much less than three thousand pounds, with which he
bought and stocked a very pretty farm in Somersetshire, where they
lived as happy as virtue and affluence could make them. By
industry and care they prospered beyond their utmost expectations,
and, by their prudence and good behaviour, gained the esteem and
love of all who knew them.
'To their servants (for they soon acquired riches enough to keep
three or four, I mean household ones, besides the number that were
employed in the farming business) they behaved with such kindness
and civility, that had they even given less wages than their
neighbours, they would never have been in want of any; everyone
being desirous of getting into a family where they were treated
with such kindness and condescension.
'In this happy manner they continued to live for many years,
bringing up a large family of children to imitate their virtues;
but one great mortification they were obliged to submit to, which
was that of putting their children very early to boarding school,
a circumstance which the want of education in Mrs. and indeed I
may add Mr. Flail, rendered absolutely necessary.
'But I am afraid, Mrs. Sally and Mrs. Nelly, you will be tired, as
I have but half told my story; but I will endeavour to make short
work of it, though indeed it deserves to be noticed, for it will
teach one a great deal, and convince one how little the world's
riches are to be depended on.
'I have said, you know, that Mr. Speedgo was a merchant, and a
very rich one too. It is unknown what vast sums of money he used
to spend! when, would you think it, either through spending it too
fast, or some losses he met with in trade, he broke all to
nothing, and had not a farthing to pay his creditors. I forgot
how many thousand pounds it was he owed; but it was a vast great
many. Well! this you may be sure was a great mortification to
them; they begged for mercy from their creditors; but as in their
prosperity they had never shown much mercy themselves to those
they thought beneath them, so now they met with very little from
others: the poor saying they deserved it for their pride; the
rich condemning them for their presumption, in trying to vie with
those of superior birth; and those who had been less successful in
business, blaming them for their extravagance, which, they said,
had justly brought on them their misfortunes.
'In this distress, in vain it was they applied for assistance to
those they had esteemed their friends; for as they never had been
careful to form their connections with people of real merit, only
seeking to be acquainted with those who were rich and prosperous,
so now they could no longer return their civilities, they found
none were ready to show them any, but everyone seemed anxious to
keep from them as much as possible. Thus distressed, and finding
no one willing to help them, the young squire, Master James, was
obliged to go to sea: while Miss Betsy and Miss Rachael were even
forced to try to get their living by service, a way of life they
were both ill qualified to undertake, for they had always so
accustomed themselves to be waited on and attended, that they
scarcely knew how to help themselves, much less how to work for
others. The consequence of which was, they gave so little
satisfaction to their employers, that they staid but a little time
in a place, and from so frequently changing, no family, who wished
to be well settled, would admit them, as they thought it
impossible they could be good servants whom no one thought worthy
of keeping.
'It is impossible to describe the many and great mortifications
those two young ladies met with. They now frequently recollected
the words of Molly Mount, and earnestly wished they had attended
to them whilst it was in their power, as by so doing they would
have secured to themselves friends. And they very forcibly found,
that, although they were poor and servants, yet they were as
sensible of kind treatment and civility, as if they had been
richer.
'After they had been for some years changing from place to place,
always obliged to put up with very low wages, upon account of
their being so ill qualified for servants, it happened that Miss
Betsy got into service at Watchet, a place about three miles
distant from Mr. Flail's farm. Here she had a violent fit of
illness, and not having been long enough in the family to engage
their generosity to keep her, she was dismissed upon account of
her ill health rendering her wholly incapable of doing her
business for which she was hired. She then, with the very little
money she had, procured a lodging in a miserable little dirty
cottage; but through weakness being unable to work, she soon
exhausted her whole stock, and was even obliged to quit this
habitation, bad as it was, and for some days support herself
wholly by begging from door to door, often meeting with very
unkind language for so idle an employment; some people telling her
to go to her parish, when, alas! her parish was many miles
distant, and she, poor creature, had no means of getting there.
'At last she wandered, in this distressful situation, to the house
of Mr. Flail, and walked into the farm yard just at the time the
cows were being milked. She, who for a long time had tasted
nothing but bits of broken bread, and had no drink besides water
she had scooped up in her hands, looked at the quantity of fresh
milk with a most wishful eye; and, going to the women who were
milking, she besought them in a moving manner to give her a
draught, as she was almost ready to perish. "For pity's sake,"
said she, "have compassion upon a poor wretch, dying with
sickness, hunger, and thirst; it is a long time since I have
tasted a mouthful of wholesome victuals, my lips are now almost
parched with thirst, and I am so faint for want, that I can
scarcely stand; my sufferings are very great indeed, it would melt
a heart of stone to hear the story of my woes. Oh! have pity upon
a fellow-creature then, and give me one draught of that milk,
which can never be missed out of so vast a quantity as you have
there, and may you never, never, know what it is to suffer as I
now do." To this piteous request, she received for answer, the
common one of "Go about your business, we have nothing for you, so
don't come here." "We should have enough to do indeed," said one
of the milkers, "if we were to give every idle beggar who would
like a draught of this delicious milk; but no, indeed, we shall
not give you a drop; so go about your business, and don't come
plaguing us here." Mrs. Flail, who happened to be in the yard,
with one of her children who was feeding the chickens, overheard
enough of this to make her come forward, and enquire what was the
matter. "Nothing, ma"am," replied the milk-maid, "only I was
sending away this nasty dirty creature, who was so bold as to come
asking for milk indeed! But beggars grow so impudent now-a-days
there never was the like of it." "Oh fie!" returned Mrs. Flail,
shocked at her inhuman way of speaking, "fie upon you, to speak in
so unkind a manner of a poor creature in distress." Then turning
to the beggar, she inquired what she wanted, in so mild a tone of
voice, that it encouraged her to speak and tell her distress.
'Mrs. Flail listened with the greatest attention, and could not
help being struck with her speech and appearance; for though she
was clothed in rags (having parted with all her better clothes to
pay for lodging and food) still there was a something in her
language and manner which discovered that she was no common
beggar. Betsy had stood all the time with her eyes fixed upon the
ground, scarcely once lifting them to look at the face of Mrs.
Flail; and she was so changed herself by her troubles and
sickness, that it was impossible for any one who had ever seen
Miss Speedgo, to recollect her in her present miserable state.
Mrs. Flail, however, wanted no farther inducement to relieve her
than to hear she was in want. "Every fellow-creature in
distress," she used to say, "was a proper object of her bounty;
and whilst she was blessed with plenty she thought it her duty to
relieve, as far as she prudently could, all whom she knew to be in
need." She therefore fetched a mug, and, filling it with milk
herself, gave it to the poor woman to drink. "Here," said she,
"take this, good woman, and I hope it will refresh and be of
service to you." Betsy held out her hand for it, and, lifting her
eyes up to look at Mrs. Flail, whilst she thanked her for her
kindness, was greatly astonished to discover in her benefactress,
the features of her old servant, Molly Mount. "Bless me!" said
she, with an air of confusion, "What do I see? Who is it? Where
am I? Madam, pardon my boldness, but pray forgive me, ma"am, but
is not your name Mount?" "It was," replied Mrs. Flail, "but I
have been married for thirteen years to a Mr. Flail, and that is
my name now. But, pray, where did you ever see me before? or how
came you to know anything of me?" Poor Betsy could return no
answer, her shame at being seen by her servant that was, in her
present condition, and the consciousness of having so ill-treated
that very servant, to whose kindness she was now indebted; all
together were too much for her in her weak state, and she fell
senseless at Mrs. Flail's feet.
'This still added to Mrs. Flail's surprise, and she had her
carried into the house and laid upon a bed, where she used every
means to bring her to herself again; which, after a considerable
time, succeeded; and she then (covered with shame and remorse)
told her who she was, and how she came into that miserable
condition. No words can describe the astonishment Mrs. Flail was
in, at hearing the melancholy story of her sufferings; nor is it
possible to tell with what generosity and kindness she strove to
comfort her, telling her to compose herself, for she should no
longer be in want of any thing. "I have, thank Heaven," said she,
"a most worthy good man for my husband, who will rejoice with me
in having it in his power to relieve a suffering fellow-creature.
Do not, therefore, any longer distress yourself upon what passed
between us formerly. I had, for my part, forgotten it, if you had
not now told it me; but, however I might then take the liberty to
censure you for too much haughtiness. I am sure I have no
occasion to do so now. Think no more, therefore, I beseech you,
upon those times which are now past; but be comforted, and make
yourself as happy as in my humble plain manner of living you can
possibly do."
'She then furnished her with some of her own clothes, till she
could procure her new ones, and sent immediately for a physician
from the next town; by following of whose prescription, together
with good nursing, and plenty of all necessaries, she soon
recovered her health; but she was too deeply affected with the
thoughts of her former misconduct ever to feel happy in her
situation, though Mrs. Flail used every method in her power to
render her as comfortable as possible. Nor did she confine her
goodness only to this one daughter, but sent also for her sister
and mother (her father being dead), and fitted up a neat little
house for them near their own. But as the Flails could not afford
wholly to maintain them for nothing, they entrusted the poultry to
their care; which enabled them to do with one servant less; and by
that means they could, without any great expense, afford to give
them sufficient to make their lives comfortable, that is, as far
as their own reflections would let them; for the last words Mrs.
Speedgo said to Molly, when she parted from her, dwelt continually
upon her mind, and filled her with shame and remorse.
'"I told her," said she, "that she should never again come into my
doors, or eat another mouthful in my house; and now it is her
bounty alone which keeps us all from perishing. Oh! how unworthy
are we of such goodness! True, indeed, was what she told you,
that kindness and virtue were far more valuable than riches.
Goodness and kindness no time or change can take from us; but
riches soon fly as it were away, and then what are we the better
for having been once possessed of them?"'
Here Mr. John stopped, and jumping hastily up, and turning round
to Mrs. Sally, Mrs. Nelly, and Mr. Bob, exclaimed, rubbing his
hands--'There ladies, I have finished my story; and, let me tell
you, so long preaching has made my throat dry, so another mug of
ale, if you please, Master Bobby (tapping him at the same time
upon the shoulder), another mug of ale, my boy; for faith, talking
at the rate I have done, is enough to wear a man's lungs out, and,
in truth, I have need of something to hearten me after such
fatigue.'
'Well, I am sure,' replied Mrs. Sally and Mrs. Nelly, in the same
breath, 'we are greatly obliged to you for your history; and I am
sure it deserves to be framed and glazed, and it ought to be hung
up in the hall of every family, that all people may see the sad
effects of pride, and how little cause people have, because they
are rich, to despise those who are poor; since it frequently
happens, that those who this year are like little kings, may the
next be beggars; and then they will repent, when it is too late,
of all their pride and unkindness they showed to those beneath
them.'
Here the conversation was put a stop to by the bell ringing, and
John being ordered to drive to the door. I, who during the whole
of the history had been feasting upon a mince-pie, now thought it
safer to conceal myself in a little hole in the wainscot of the
closet, where, finding myself very safe, I did not awake till
midnight. After the family were all retired to rest, I peeped out
of the hole, and there saw just such another frightful trap as
that which was the prelude to poor Softdown's sufferings.
Startled at the sight, I retreated back as expeditiously as
possible, nor ever stopped till I found my way into a bed-chamber,
where lay two little girls fast asleep.
I looked about for some time, peeping into every hole and corner
before I could find any thing to eat, there being not so much as a
candle in the room with them. At last I crept into a little
leathern trunk, which stood on a table, not shut down quite close:
here I instantly smelt something good: but was obliged to gnaw
through a great deal of linen to get at it; it was wrapped up in a
lap-bag, amongst a vast quantity of work. However, I made my way
through half a hundred folds, and at last was amply repaid, by
finding out a nice piece of plum-cake, and the pips of an apple,
which I could easily get at, one half of it having been eat away.
Whilst I was thus engaged I heard a cat mew, and not knowing how
near she might be, I endeavoured to jump out; but in the hurry I
somehow or other entangled myself in the muslin, and pulled that,
trunk and all, down with me; for the trunk stood half off the
table, so that the least touch in the world overset it, otherwise
my weight could never have tumbled it down.
The noise of the fall, however, waked the children, and I heard
one say to the other,--'Bless me! Mary, what is that noise?--What
can it be? I am almost frightened out of my wits; do, pray,
sister, hug me close!' 'Pooh!' replied the other, 'never mind it!
What in the world need you be frightened at? What do you suppose
will hurt you? It sounded as if something fell down; but as it
has not fallen upon us, and I do not hear anybody stirring, or
speaking as if they were hurt, what need we care about it? So
pray, Nancy, let us go to sleep again; for as yet I have not had
half sufficient, I am sure; I hope morning is not coming yet, for
I am not at all ready to get up.' 'I am sure,' answered the
other, 'I wish it was morning, and daylight now, for I should like
to get up vastly, I do not like to lay here in the dark any
longer; I have a great mind to ring the bell, and then mamma or
somebody will come to us with a candle.' 'And what in the world,'
rejoined Mary, 'will be the use of that? Do you want a candle to
light you to look for the wounds the noise has given you; or what
can you wish to disturb my mamma for? Come, let me cuddle you,
and do go to sleep, child, for I cannot think what occasion there
is for us to keep awake because we heard a noise; I never knew
that noise had teeth or claws to hurt one with; and I am sure this
has not hurt me; and so, whether you choose to lie awake or not, I
will go to sleep, and so good-bye to you, and pray do not disturb
me any more, for I cannot talk any longer.' 'But, Mary,' again
replied the other, 'pray do not go to sleep yet, I want to speak
to you.' 'Well, what do you want to say?' inquired Mary. 'Why,
pray have you not very often,' said Nancy, 'heard of thieves
breaking into people's houses and robbing them; and I am sadly
afraid that noise was some rogues coming in; so pray, Mary, do not
go to sleep, I am in such a fright and tremble you cannot think.
Speak, Mary, have not you, I say, heard of thieves?' 'Yes,'
replied Mary, in a very sleepy voice, 'a great many times.'
'Well, then, pray sister, do not go to sleep,' said Nancy, in a
peevish accent, 'suppose, I say that noise I heard should be
thieves, what should we do? What will become of us? O! what
shall we do?'--'Why, go to sleep, I tell you,' said Mary, 'as fast
as you can; at least, do pray let me, for I cannot say I am in the
smallest fear about house-breakers or house-makers either; and of
all the robberies I ever heard of in all my life, I never heard of
thieves stealing little girls; so do, there's a dear girl, go to
sleep again, and do not so foolishly frighten yourself out of your
wits for nothing.' 'Well,' replied Nancy, 'I will not keep you
awake any longer; but I am sure I shall not be able to get another
wink of sleep all night.'
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