The Tell-Tale: An Original Collection of Moral and Amusing Stories E-Book

Catharine Parr Traill

• Herausgeber: Bauer Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Catharine Parr Traill, born Strickland (9 January 1802 – 29 August 1899) was an English-Canadian author and naturalist who wrote about life as a settler in Canada.
She began writing children's books in 1818, after the death of her father. Her early work, such as Disobedience, or Mind What Mama Says (1819), and "Happy Because Good", were written for children, and often dwell on the benefits of obedience to one's parents. A prolific author, until her marriage she averaged one book per year.

Leseprobe

Catharine

The Tell-Tale: An Original Collection of Moral and Amusing Stories

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Table of contents

ARPHU, OR, THE FAIRY KITTEN. “My dear mamma,” said William Dormer, as he stood by his mother’s knee, “have you no more pretty stories to relate?”

“Let me see,” said Mrs. Dormer, “but I think I must have almost exhausted my stock. Beauty and the Beast, I told you yesterday; the Yellow Dwarf you know by heart, for you were telling it the other day to your cousin; and as for Puss in Boots, the Sleeping Beauty, and Whittington and his Cat, you know them nearly as well as I do.

“However,” added she, “I will endeavour to recollect something else; but this is not the proper time for me to relate tales. When you have done the sum, which your papa has given you, and Mary has finished her copy—and when Lewis has learned his lesson—when all this is done—why, perhaps, by that time, I shall have thought of a new story.”

This observation produced the desired effect. Lewis, who had been previously winding some thread about his fingers, began to apply himself diligently to his task; William paid strict attention to his cyphering, till it was completed; and Mary acquitted herself better than usual in writing. The children then reminded their kind mother of her promise, and anxiously inquired what story she had recollected.

“You are very fond of fairy tales,” said Mrs. Dormer, “and I am now going to relate one, which is called ‘The Fairy Kitten.’“ “Oh dear!” said William, “did she catch mice? I never heard of fairies keeping cats before.” “Remember the White Cat,” said Lewis, “I dare say she was one of her kittens.”

“Have patience,” said Mrs. Dormer, “and you shall hear. “A very long time ago, when fairies dwelt in England, there lived on a woody hill, near a lake in Cumberland, a king of the fairies, who was very good and benevolent; and if any of his little subjects ever committed evil or malicious tricks (to which it is said fairies are much inclined), he was sure to punish them severely. But it was the misfortune of this good king to have a little son, who, instead of resembling his excellent father, was of a most wicked and cruel disposition. The name of this mischievous being was Arphu, and to look at him, every one would have thought him exceedingly good. He had a beautiful face, and hair that glittered like sunbeams; he had downy wings which shone with a thousand different colours, like that beautiful stuffed humming-bird, which your kind uncle sent me. But though he had all these beauties, he was always inclined to do evil, rather than good. While the other fairies were, in obedience to the orders of the king, busily employed in supporting flowers that had been overthrown by the hail, or raising the ears of wheat which had been beaten to the earth by a thunder storm, Arphu would silently slip away from these kind offices, and fly or run through wet or mire, in search of mischief. If he chanced to see a poor snail which with great toil had climbed a leaf to eat its breakfast, he would give it so hard a push, that the hungry little creature would tumble down, and have all its labour to begin again. If he saw a harmless caterpillar crawling on a twig that overhung the lake, he would shake the branch violently, and then laugh to see the poor little animal descend by its slender thread, directly into the water below, where a greedy fish waited to devour it. He loved to drive flies into spiders’ webs, and fish into nets; but his chief delight was to follow some rude children, the sons of a farmer, who lived in the valley under the hill. He did not mind if his golden ringlets were wet through, or his splendid wings dabbled with mire, if he could follow them in their play, and secretly tempt them to torment some harmless bird or animal, which he took care to entrap for their cruel sport.

This conduct gave great pain to the benevolent mind of the king; and, after some time, he declared in council, that the next wicked action which Arphu committed should be punished with exemplary severity. He then ordered four of the wisest fairies to follow the young prince secretly, and to bring him before his throne the next lawless deed they found him doing. They obeyed, and that day caught him in a very wicked trick. Two swallows had built their nest under the eaves of a farmer’s barn; but when they had completed it, and hatched their young, Arphu stole up to the nest and loosened it from the barn, so that the tender young ones were shattered to pieces on the ground. Whilst the mischievous prince was surveying the dying pangs of the wretched little birds, and listening to the woeful complaint of their parents, the fairies seized him and hurried him to the foot of his father’s throne, where they related the distressing scene which they had just witnessed.

The king, as you may suppose, was extremely angry, especially as this cruelty had been exercised upon swallows, which were protected both by fairies and men, for their industry in clearing the air from noxious insects, and for their ingenuity in building their curious nests. “Wicked and malicious little being!” said he, fixing his eyes with an awful frown on Arphu; “thou shalt learn by thy own experience what it is to suffer the miseries thou hast inflicted on others; and if this punishment do not amend thee, thou shalt be for ever stripped of thy gay wings and pearl coronet, and be confined with the evil gnomes in the neighbouring iron mines. Fly from my sight, and receive the reward of thy crimes!”

Arphu willingly fled from the palace of his angry father: but he had not proceeded far, before he felt himself whirled round and round in the air with such violence that his head became giddy, and he soon lost all sense. When he recovered, he was greatly astonished to find that he had entered the body of a little kitten, belonging to a cat which was tenderly nursing her young brood on some hay, in a loft over the farmer’s barn. He now comprehended the justice of his father’s sentence, and was aware that the very children whom he had taught to be cruel, would now have it in their power to torment him. He shuddered at the cruelty he had seen them practise; he shook and trembled in every limb at the least noise; he tried to speak, and call out, but found that he could only utter piteous mews; and to add to his distress, he could not even see in this degraded state. His new mother, however, licked and caressed him with much affection; and, after he had thought a great while, and bitterly repented of his faults, he fell fast asleep.

The next morning he awoke very cold and hungry, for the cat was gone. Well, he pawed about with his little blind brothers and sisters, and got as close to them as he could to warm himself, but they, in crawling about to find their mother, often scratched his face with their claws: he conceived, however, that they did not mean to hurt him, so he did not return it, for his weak and wretched state had already taught him wisdom. Presently he heard a loud purring: he shrunk in dismay, but he recollected it was only the cat who came to suckle and comfort them. Now for nine or ten days, old pussy took the tenderest care of her kits, though she did not know that the fairy prince was one of them; and in that time the kittens began to see clearly, and in a fortnight longer they grew strong, and very pretty; and Arphu with the rest of the brood began to frisk about and play a thousand funny tricks; and though they sometimes quarrelled with him, and bit his ears or tail, Arphu took such delight in their gambols, that he soon began to love them, and never attempted to hurt them. Arphu had often dreaded the time when he was to suffer pain, but so many days had gone by that he had almost forgotten it. One morning, however, they heard a great noise on the hayloft stair’s: the kittens all fled in great haste from where they had been frisking, and scampered into their nest, where they lay in great dread crouching close to each other. And now there was the noise of a great many feet on the stairs, and Arphu plainly distinguished the voices of the farmer’s children.

“Come here, Maudlin,” said Hodge, the eldest boy, “come and look about, for I know that our Tib has kitted somewhere in the hayloft; let us find the kits, and we will have a nice drown.”

“Go, Hodge!” said Maudlin, “you cruel boy! if I could find the poor things, I would hide them all from you. You have grown so hardhearted of late!”

All this time Hodge and his brothers were looking about, in spite of the reproaches of the kind little Maudlin; but just as Hodge was giving up his search, Gilbert, the youngest boy, trod on Arphu’s tail, and gave him such a pang, that he could not help mewing most piteously, which instantly betrayed their hiding place. Gilbert turned over the bay as quick as lightning, till he felt the soft fur of the kittens; then called out, “I have found them, here they are.”

Poor Arphu, and his unfortunate brothers, were now dragged to the light: whilst the gentle Maudlin wept to see the tender creatures in the hands of her cruel brothers, who griped them barbarously, regardless of their cries and wailings. After a few minutes the boys thought proper to carry them down stairs, and with shouts of joy took them to the horse-pond, where they ranged their shivering victims on the cold wet grass that grew around it: they then began to choose the prettiest, that they might save it. Poor Arphu’s errors and sufferings may well be imagined, but at length they chose him as the best; and tying some heavy stones round the necks of all the others, plunged them one by one into the pond; and Arphu saw his pretty brothers, his innocent frisking playfellows, drowned before his face without mercy. Meanwhile the poor cat, which was almost mad to see her young treated so barbarously, ran amongst them, and seizing Arphu, dragged him off in her mouth. This way of carrying hurt him very much: but the cruel boys were so busy putting them to death, that they did not see pussy make off with him; and she soon carried him to a new hiding place. This was the hollow branch of a tree in the farmer’s garden. Here Arphu suffered a great deal of cold, and on a moonlight night he would put his little nose out of the hole and see his fellow fairies dance in the meadow below, and look most gay and beautiful: but no one took notice of him in his fallen state.

“How strange, mamma!” said William; “I never heard a fairy tale before, but what had giants, and enchanters, and princesses in it.” “Yes,” said William, “it might have made him better; but I will try to remember it, and tell it all to my cousin Kate, when she comes.” “But, mamma, Kate is very good.” “Oh, mamma,” said little Lewis, “papa has a long rope, and a nice little chair, and Taylor is putting up two great posts.” “Do not you remember the swing he promised you?” asked Mrs. Dormer. “Oh, what a good papa!” said William; “come mamma, do let us go and look at it.” OR, THE REWARD OF INDUSTRY. “I wanted, my dear mamma, to know what his name is; I thought you could tell me.” “And why did you want to know his name?” said his mother. Mrs. Fletcher was pleased to see the amiable disposition of her child, and said, “Indeed, mamma,” said Sidney, “I do not think I should be near so patient as he is, for I would walk slower, and not go so often.” “Come, come,” said she, “and see what I have found.” Sidney and Marcella soon came running to the spot where Juliet was plucking wild strawberries. “I would not eat any till you came up,” said little Juliet. “That was a good girl,” said her sister. “No, Sidney,” said she, “they do not belong to us: we have no right to any of them.” “Why, if I did not pluck them the birds would, and you know the owner of the wood cannot hinder them,” answered Sidney. “Wait a minute,” said he. “Make haste, then.” “How is this, Sidney?” inquired his father: “have you been learning to swim in this clear stream with your clothes on?” But Sidney, who well knew how naughty he had been, only wept the more. Sidney ran into the parlour, and with tears of real penitence confessed the fault to his mother. “An old man, with a long white beard!” exclaimed all the little children; “how funny he must have looked!” “Did you not burst out a laughing, mamma, when you saw him?” asked little Juliet. “Oh no, dear mamma, do not leave off—pray go on,” cried all the children in a breath. “He told me that Louis was nearly fifteen years old. “‘How long have you, then, been in this country?’ asked I. “‘Nearly four years,’ said the old man, ‘during which time my son Louis has supported me by his industry.’ Here Mrs. Fletcher paused to take breath. “Well, mamma, go on,” said Sidney, impatient to know what became of poor Justin. “Do, dear mother, tell us all,” said Charles and Marcella both together. “Oh, thank you, dear mamma,” said Sidney, “for telling us all this. But what did Louis say to you?” “Why Louis took my hand, and said, ‘May God bless sweet lady, for you much good and ver kind.’ “I then asked him who taught him English? He said, ‘Good-lady widow teach Louis English; me know none before.’ “I would get Justin into the blind hospital,” said Charles, “and then you know, mamma, we could put Louis to school.” “Oh,” cried Sidney and Marcella at once, “let us put all our money together and buy Louis some new clothes.” “Do, dear papa, let us hear what think best,” they all said. “And I have nine shillings and sixpence,” said Marcella, emptying her little treasure-box into her mother’s lap. Mrs. Fletcher smiled at this donation, but it was rather a wonder that Juliet was mistress of so large a sum. “In Britain’s isle, and Arthur’s days, When midnight fairies danced the maze.” “Oh yes, Mary, I remember, and I wish mamma would read us some more tales like that.” When Mrs. Dormer entered the parlour, she perceived William, looking much like a culprit. “So, Sir,” said his mother, “it was you who led your cousin into this mischief.” “It was, dear mamma, but I am very, very sorry,” answered William. “I suppose, mamma,” said William, “as I have been so bad a boy, am not to go?” Mrs. Dormer smiled, and unlocking her writing-desk, selected from among her papers the tale of THE MIDSUMMER HOLIDAYS. Mr. Russel was an old captain retired from service, with a small fortune and his pay to live on. Phil replied, without leaving off eating, and with the greatest audacity, “we are keeping the birds off the cherry-tree, Sir.” “Come down, Harry; make haste—my father is coming towards us!” Phil’s grief now became so violent, that Mr. Howard thought that he had better take him away. All the little party were quite grieved when they turned down the lane that separated their house from the heath. “What a pity!” said Kate. “Dear aunt, let us empty the jar into the garden.” “Thank you, my dear uncle. What time shall you be ready?” asked Arthur, still continuing to write on. “In about half an hour at farthest,” said Mr. Percy. “Shall you be ready by that time?” Arthur ardently wished that the time went slower. Mr. Percy still looked at him, as if expecting an answer; and at last he repeated the question. “I was trying,” said Arthur, “to catch a robin which flew into the room. I was very silly, and have lost a great deal of time by it.” His cousin Jane now came running into the room, and exclaimed: “Arthur, papa is waiting for you; but he supposes you have not done yet.” Arthur coloured like scarlet, for he feared to be detected in his guilt. He stood silent, and dared not raise his eyes to the face of his uncle. “Oh,” thought he, “if my uncle did but know how wicked I have been, he would never forgive me.” Mr. Percy told him to put on his hat and great-coat, for they had no time to lose. Arthur was spared the trouble of replying, for Mr. Mansel then came forward, and entered into conversation with Mr. Percy. “Poor man!” said Arthur; “how much he is to be pitied! Is he a soldier?” “He was once a soldier, but he cannot see now,” replied the little girl. “And what is your name?” asked Arthur. “Flora Glengary.” “And how came your father to lose his sight?” “And how came you to lose your pipes?” asked Arthur. “And how much would it cost you to buy them again?” “Will half a guinea restore your pipes to you?” eagerly inquired young Stanly. “Any of these you can have,” said his uncle; “it only remains for you to determine.” The fall of snow having ceased, Arthur returned home, and Mr. Percy proceeded to join his friends. “My dear cousin, what is it that affects you? Will you not tell your Jane?” “Consider, Arthur,” said she, “it is the fault of the kind you ever were guilty of.” “Oh, Sir! I have been a very wicked boy, and am not worthy that you should shake hands with me.” Mr. Percy, much surprised, demanded an explanation; and Arthur, with great earnestness and simplicity, related what he had done. Arthur had the satisfaction of beholding many a handful of halfpence thrown into the plaid bonnet of the now happy Flora. The Highlander came opposite the window. Mrs. Percy threw open the sash, in order to bestow a trifle on the piper. Arthur hastily drew in his head; for he feared lest his aunt should be angry at his having parted with the half-guinea. But Flora still continued jumping about, and calling for him to look out, and see how happy they were. “What can the child mean?” said Mr. Percy, who stood with them at the window. “Let somebody call her in, and we will hear.” “No, no, dear uncle, do not have her in,” cried Arthur, in a tone of entreaty. “Indeed my dear aunt, I could not help giving the money to them, though it had been my father’s.” Mrs. Percy, far from blaming her nephew, applauded him as he deserved; as to Jane, she was, if possible, the happiest of the party. “I should not like them at all,” said William, “for I think the centipede is uglier than a snake.” “Dear!” said William, “how horrid they must have looked! I suppose, mamma, you did not catch any?” “What is the matter?” she said (putting Mary’s frock from her eyes), “What ails my poor Mary? Is she ill, or has some one hurt her?” “Oh, my shoe!” I cried; “find my shoe!” “How came you in such a plight, Jem?” asked Frank. “Why, children,” he said, “what do you all here so far from home? and who has been misusing you in this manner?” We all lifted up our voices at once to reply; but nurse Hill contrived to make hers sound the loudest. I hardly need tell you that we were all rejoiced when we arrived at home, and were fed and comforted after our fatigues. “Your brother William is my father,” said Kate to her aunt. “Yes, my dear girl,” said Mrs. Dormer, “and we often now laugh over our misfortunes at Hampstead fair.” William and Mary ran to the door to look at a fine litter of young pigs, which the dairy-maid was feeding with some milk. “They are indeed very pretty,” said Kate; “but you know, Lewis, those things which are the are not the .” Kate left off washing her face, and ran to the window, for she could not think what Mary was admiring so much. “Oh, it is only the peacock,” said she. “How I should like to catch it,” said Mary. “Kate, is it tame?” “How cruel!” said Mary, “to pull out its nice feathers; what a pity John is not good!” “How pretty and innocent they look! don’t they, Kate?” “Yes, Mary.” The children were all delighted when the calves were let out of the adjoining crib, and came capering to suck. “Look, madam,” said Mary, “how ill-tempered that spotted cow seems towards her calf.” “So it has, I declare,” said Lewis, “for the blood is running quite fast. I wish I had not been so hasty in striking her, poor thing.” “Now, dear Mrs. Harrison, will you give us a little new milk?” said “They are not prettier than chickens; nay, I do not like them so well,” said she. “But where are all the geese?” said William; “for I see only two, under coops, with some nice little yellow goslings.” “Yes; but roasted geese never me,” said Lewis, rubbing his leg. “Will you go back, and wait till your leg is better?” said Mrs. Dormer. “Do, dear Lewis,” said his cousin Kate; “and I will stay with you, and we can look at the pictures in the great parlour.” “Here is our good master coming, my boys,” cried the men on the loaded waggon to those below. “Well, my lads,” said Mr. Richmond, as he drew near, “when am I to prepare this harvest-supper for you?” “We expect, Sir, to bring home the last load to-morrow afternoon,” said the head man, respectfully taking off his hat to his master. Shortly after Mr. Richmond told them he was going to quit the field, as they should have dinner very soon. “Mrs. Harrison,” she exclaimed, “how is all that meat to be eaten?” “I warrant you, my dear, there will not be a vast deal too much.” The little Dormers were in as high spirits as any of them; and William and Lewis rushed out to see it unloaded. “Is every thing ready, Mrs. Harrison?” asked Mr. Richmond. “Yes, Sir; every thing,” was the reply. “Then say grace, and begin your supper,” rejoined he. Nor had the guests been forgotten; for when the children entered the dining parlour they found an excellent supper laid out for them. “Well, my good friends, how do you come on?” asked Mr. Richmond. They staid up long after their usual time, and then retired to bed, greatly pleased at the scene they had beheld. OR, LITTLE EMMMA’S BIRTH-DAY. “Well,” cried Mrs. Selwhyn, “what do you think of Emma now?” “You are nine years old to-day, Emma,” said Mrs. Selwhyn. “Oh, certainly,” exclaimed Mr. Selwhyn; “but pray, Emma, in that case, what would you do with it? I should like to know.” “Mrs. Selwhyn,” said he, “I believe it is high time to produce the red morocco purse; it is really growing quite troublesome in my pocket.” “Then suppose you give it without further delay,” rejoined Mrs. Selwhyn. “Emma, your papa is going to present you with a birth-day gift; a little red morocco purse.” “With money in it?” inquired Emma. “Yes, my love: a purse is of little use without there is money in it.” Susannah had by this time arrived at the garden-gate, and Emma with a joyful countenance came out to meet her. Mr. and Mrs. Selwhyn exchanged looks of evident satisfaction. “Pray, Goody,” cried Emma, “can you tell me where I can find an old barn? I shall be so much obliged to you!” “Miss, will you be so good as to sit down?” asked the primrose girl; “here is mother’s great chair; it is the best we have got.” THE END