Stories for the Young by Hannah More

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[Illustration: TAWNEY RACHEL.]

STORIES FOR THE YOUNG;

OR,

CHEAP REPOSITORY TRACTS:

ENTERTAINING, MORAL, AND RELIGIOUS.

BY HANNAH MORE AND OTHERS.

A NEW REVISED EDITION.

VOL. VI.

PUBLISHED BY THE
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK.

CONTENTS

VOL. VI.

Black Giles the Poacher; containing some account of a family who had
rather live by their wits than their work.

History of Widow Brown's Apple-tree; being Part II. of Black Giles the
Poacher.

Tawney Rachel; or, the Fortune-teller: with some account of Dreams,
Omens, and Conjurers. Being Part III. of Black Giles the Poacher.

The Happy Waterman.

The Gravestone.

Parley the Porter. An Allegory. Showing how robbers without can never
get into a house unless there are traitors within.

A New Christmas Tract; or, the Right Way of Rejoicing at Christmas.
Showing the reasons we have for joy at the event of our Saviour's birth.

A New Christmas Hymn.

Bear ye one another's Burdens; or, the Valley of Tears. A Vision.

The Strait Gate and the Broad Way; being the Second Part of the Valley
of Tears.

The Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard.

BLACK GILES THE POACHER:

CONTAINING SOME ACCOUNT OF A FAMILY WHO HAD RATHER LIVE BY THEIR WITS
THAN THEIR WORK[A]

BY HANNAH MORE.

PART I

[Footnote A: This story exhibits an accurate picture of that part of
the country where the author then resided; and where, by her
benevolent zeal, a great reformation was effected among the poor
inhabitants of at least twenty parishes, within a circle of thirty
miles.]

Poaching Giles lives on the borders of one of those great moors in
Somersetshire. Giles, to be sure, has been a sad fellow in his time;
and it is none of his fault if his whole family do not end their
career either at the gallows, or at Botany Bay. He lives at that mud
cottage, with the broken windows stuffed with dirty rags, just beyond
the gate which divides the upper from the lower moor. You may know the
house at a good distance by the ragged tiles on the roof, and the
loose stones which are ready to drop out from the chimney; though a
short ladder, a hod of mortar, and half an hour's leisure time would
have prevented all this, and made the little dwelling tight enough.
But as Giles had never learned any thing that was good, so he did not
know the value of such useful sayings as, that "a tile in time saves
nine."

Besides this, Giles fell into that common mistake, that a
beggarly looking cottage, and filthy, ragged children, raised most
compassion, and of course drew most charity. But as cunning as he was
in other things, he was out in his reckoning here; for it is neatness,
housewifery, and a decent appearance, which draws the kindness of the
rich and charitable, while they turn away disgusted with filth and
laziness: not out of pride, but because they see that it is next to
impossible to mend the condition of those who degrade themselves by
dirt and sloth; and few people care to help those who will not help
themselves.

[Illustration]

The common on which Giles' hovel stands is quite a deep marsh in a wet
winter, but in summer it looks green and pretty enough. To be sure, it
would be rather convenient, when one passes that way in a carriage, if
one of the children would run out and open the gate; but instead of any
one of them running out as soon as they hear the wheels, which would be
quite time enough, what does Giles do but set all his ragged brats, with
dirty faces, matted locks, and naked feet and legs, to lie all day upon
a sand-bank hard by the gate, waiting for the slender chance of what may
be picked up from travellers. At the sound of a carriage, a whole covey
of these little scarecrows start up, rush to the gate, and all at once
thrust out their hats and aprons; and for fear this, together with the
noise of their clamorous begging, should not sufficiently frighten the
horses, they are very apt to let the gate slap full against you, before
you are half way through, in their eager scuffle to snatch from each
other the halfpence which you may have thrown out to them. I know two
ladies who were one day very near being killed by these abominable tricks.

Thus five or six little idle creatures, who might be earning a trifle
by knitting at home, who might be useful to the public by working in
the field, and who might assist their families by learning to get
their bread twenty honest ways, are suffered to lie about all day in
the hope of a few chance halfpence, which, after all, they are by no
means sure of getting. Indeed, when the neighboring gentlefolks found
out that opening the gate was the family trade, they soon left off
giving any thing. And I myself, though I used to take out a penny
ready to give, had there been only one to receive it, when I saw a
whole family established in so beggarly a trade, quietly put it back
again into my pocket, and gave nothing at all. And so few travellers
pass that way, that sometimes, after the whole family have lost a day,
their gains do not Amount to two-pence.

As Giles had a far greater taste for living by his wits than his work,
he was at one time in hopes that his children might get a pretty penny
by _tumbling_ for the diversion of travellers, and he set about
training them in that indecent practice; but, unluckily, the moors
being level, the carriages travelled faster than the children tumbled.
He envied those parents who lived on the London road, over the
Wiltshire downs, which downs being very hilly, it enables the tumbler
to keep pace with the traveller, till he sometimes extorts from the
light and the unthinking a reward instead of a reproof. I beg leave,
however, to put all gentlemen and ladies in mind, that such tricks are
a kind of apprenticeship to the trades of begging and thieving; and
that nothing is more injurious to good morals than to encourage the
poor in any habits which may lead them to live upon chance.

Giles, to be sure, as his children grew older, began to train them to
such other employments as the idle habits they had learned at the gate
very properly qualified them for. The right of common, which some of
the poor cottagers have in that part of the country, and which is
doubtless a considerable advantage to many, was converted by Giles
into the means of corrupting his whole family; for his children, as
soon as they grew too big for the trade of begging at the gate, were
promoted to the dignity of thieving on the moor.

Here he kept two or three asses, miserable creatures, which, if they
had the good fortune to escape an untimely death by starving, did not
fail to meet with it by beating. Some of the biggest boys were sent
out with these lean and galled animals to carry sand or coals about
the neighboring towns. Both sand and coals were often stolen before
they got them to sell; or if not, they always took care to cheat in
selling them. By long practice in this art, they grew so dexterous
that they could give a pretty good guess how large a coal they could
crib out of every bag before the buyer would be likely to miss it.

All their odd time was taken up under the pretence of watching these
asses on the moor, or running after five or six half-starved geese;
but the truth is, these boys were only watching for an opportunity to
steal an odd goose of their neighbor's, while they pretended to look
after their own. They used also to pluck the quills or the down from
these poor live creatures, or half milk a cow before the farmer's maid
came with her pail. They all knew how to calculate to a minute what
time to be down in a morning to let out their lank, hungry beasts,
which they had turned over night into the farmer's field to steal a
little good pasture. They contrived to get there just time enough to
escape being caught in replacing the stakes they had pulled out for
the cattle to get over. For Giles was a prudent, long-headed fellow;
and wherever he stole food for his colts, took care never to steal
stakes from the hedges at the same time. He had sense enough to know
that the gain did not make up for the danger; he knew that a loose
fagot, pulled from a neighbor's pile of wood after the family were
gone to bed, answered the end better, and was not half the trouble.

Among the many trades which Giles professed, he sometimes practised
that of a rat-catcher; but he was addicted to so many tricks, that he
never followed the same trade long, for detection will sooner or later
follow the best-concerted villany. Whenever he was sent for to a
farm-house, his custom was to kill a few of the old rats, always
taking care to leave a little stock of young ones alive sufficient to
keep up the breed; "for," said he, "if I were to be such a fool as to
clear a house or a barn at once, how would my trade be carried on?"
And where any barn was overstocked, he used to borrow a few rats from
thence, just to people a neighboring granary which had none; and he
might have gone on till now, had he not unluckily been caught one
evening emptying his cage of young rats under parson Wilson's
barn-door.

This worthy minister, Mr. Wilson, used to pity the neglected children
of Giles, as much as he blamed the wicked parents. He one day picked
up Dick, who was far the best of Giles' bad boys. Dick was loitering
about in a field behind the parson's garden, in search of a hen's
nest, his mother having ordered him to bring home a few eggs that
night, by hook or by crook, as Giles was resolved to have some
pancakes for supper, though he knew that eggs were a penny apiece.
Mr. Wilson had long been desirous of snatching some of this vagrant
family from ruin; and his chief hopes were bent on Dick, as the least
hackneyed in knavery. He had once given him a new pair of shoes, on
his promising to go to school next Sunday; but no sooner had Rachel,
the boy's mother, got the shoes into her clutches, than she pawned
them for a bottle of gin, and ordered the boy to keep out of the
parson's sight, and to be sure to play his marbles on Sunday, for the
future, at the other end of the parish, and not near the churchyard.

Mr. Wilson, however, picked up the boy once more; for it was not his
way to despair of any body. Dick was just going to take to his heels,
as usual, for fear the old story of the shoes should be brought
forward; but finding he could not get off, what does he do but run
into a little puddle of muddy water which lay between him and the
parson, that the sight of his naked feet might not bring on the
dreaded subject. Now, it happened that Mr. Wilson was planting a
little field of beans, so he thought this a good opportunity to employ
Dick; and he told him he had got some pretty easy work for him. Dick
did as he was bid; he willingly went to work, and readily began to
plant his beans with dispatch and regularity, according to the
directions given him.

While the boy was busily at work by himself, Giles happened to come
by, having been skulking round the back way, to look over the parson's
garden wall, to see if there was any thing worth climbing over for on
the ensuing night. He spied Dick, and began to scold him for working
for the stingy old parson; for Giles had a natural antipathy to
whatever belonged to the church.

"What has he promised thee a day?" said he; "little enough, I dare
say."

"He is not to pay me by the day," said Dick, "but says he will give me
so much when I have planted this peck, and so much for the next."

"Oh, oh, that alters the case," said Giles. "One may, indeed, get a
trifle by this sort of work. I hate your regular day-jobs, when one
can't well avoid doing one's work for one's money. Come, give me a
handful of the beans; I will teach thee how to plant when thou art
paid for planting by the peck. All we have to do in that case is to
dispatch the work as fast as we can, and get rid of the beans with all
speed; and as to the seed coming up or not, that is no business of
ours; we are paid for planting, not for growing. At the rate thou
goest on, thou wouldst not get sixpence to-night. Come along, hurry
away."

So saying, he took his hat-full of the seed, and where Dick had been
ordered to set one bean, Giles buried a dozen; so the beans were soon
out. But though the peck was emptied, the ground was unplanted. But
cunning Giles knew this could not be found out till the time when the
beans might be expected to come up; "and then, Dick," said he, "the
snails and mice may go shares in the blame; or we can lay the fault
on the rooks or the blackbirds." So saying, he sent the boy into the
parsonage to receive his pay, taking care to secure about a quarter of
the peck of beans for his own colt. He put both bag and beans into his
own pocket to carry home, bidding Dick tell Mr. Wilson that he had
planted the beans and lost the bag.

In the meantime Giles' other boys were busy in emptying the ponds and
trout-streams in the neighboring manor. They would steal away the carp
and tench when they were no bigger than gudgeons. By this untimely
depredation they plundered the owner of his property, without
enriching themselves. But the pleasure of mischief was reward enough.

These and a hundred other little thieveries they committed with such
dexterity, that old Tom Crib, whose son was transported last assizes
for sheep-stealing, used to be often reproaching his boys, that Giles'
sons were worth a hundred of such blockheads as he had; for scarce a
night passed but Giles had some little comfortable thing for supper
which his boys had pilfered in the day, while his undutiful dogs never
stole any thing worth having. Giles, in the meantime, was busy in his
way; but as busy as he was in laying nets, starting coveys, and
training dogs, he always took care that his depredations should not be
confined merely to game.

Giles' boys had never seen the inside of a church, and the father
thought he knew his own interest better than to force them to it; for
church-time was the season of their harvest. Then the hens' nests were
searched, a stray duck was clapped under the smockfrock, the tools
which might have been left by chance in a farm-yard were picked up,
and all the neighboring pigeon-houses were thinned; so that Giles used
to boast to tawny Rachel, his wife, that Sunday was to them the most
profitable day in the week.

With her it was certainly the most laborious day, as she always did
her washing and ironing on Sunday morning, it being, as she said, the
only leisure day she had; for on the other days she went about the
country telling fortunes, and selling dream-books and wicked songs.
Neither her husband's nor her children's clothes were ever mended, and
if Sunday, her idle day, had not come about once in every week, it is
likely they would never have been washed either. You might, however,
see her as you were going to church smoothing her own rags on her best
red cloak, which she always used for her ironing-cloth on Sundays, for
her cloak when she travelled, and for her blanket at night: such a
wretched manager was Rachel.

Among her other articles of trade, one was to make and sell
peppermint, and other distilled waters. These she had the cheap art of
making without trouble and without expense, for she made them without
herbs and without a still. Her way was, to fill so many quart bottles
with plain water, putting a spoonful of mint-water in the mouth of
each; these she corked down with rosin, carrying to each customer a
vial of real distilled water to taste, by way of sample. This was so
good that her bottles were commonly bought up without being opened;
but if any suspicion arose, and she was forced to uncork a bottle, by
the few drops of distilled water lying at top, she even then escaped
detection, and took care to get out of reach before the bottle was
opened a second time. She was too prudent ever to go twice to the same
house.

THE UPRIGHT MAGISTRATE.

There is hardly any petty mischief that is not connected with the life
of a poacher. Mr. Wilson was aware of this; he was not only a pious
clergyman, but an upright justice. He used to say, that people who
were truly conscientious, must be so in small things as well as in
great ones, or they would destroy the effect of their own precepts,
and their example would not be of general use. For this reason he
never would accept of a hare or a partridge from any unqualified
person in his parish. He did not content himself with shuffling the
thing off by asking no questions, and pretending to take it for
granted in a general way that the game was fairly come at; but he used
to say, that by receiving the booty he connived at a crime, made
himself a sharer in it, and if he gave a present to the man who
brought it, he even tempted him to repeat the fault.

One day poor Jack Weston, an honest fellow in the neighborhood, whom
Mr. Wilson had kindly visited and relieved in a long sickness, from
which he had but just recovered, was brought before him as he was
sitting on the justice's bench. Jack was accused of having knocked
down a hare; and of all the birds in the air, who should the informer
be but Black Giles the poacher. Mr. Wilson was grieved at the charge;
he had a great regard for Jack, but he had a still greater regard for
the law. The poor fellow pleaded guilty. He did not deny the fact, but
said he did not consider it a crime, for he did not think game was
private property, and he owned he had a strong temptation for doing
what he had done, which he hoped would plead in his excuse. The
justice desired to know what this temptation was.

"Sir," said the poor fellow, "you know I was given over this spring in
a bad fever. I had no friend in the world but you, sir. Under God, you
saved my life by your charitable relief; and I trust also you may have
helped to save my soul by your prayers and your good advice; for, by
the grace of God, I have turned over a new leaf since that sickness.

"I know I can never make you amends for all your goodness; but I
thought it would be some comfort to my full heart if I could but once
give you some little token of my gratitude. So I had trained a pair of
nice turtledoves for Madam Wilson; but they were stolen from me, sir,
and I do suspect Black Giles stole them. Yesterday morning, sir, as I
was crawling out to my work, for I am still but very weak, a fine hare
ran across my path. I did not stay to consider whether it was wrong to
kill a hare, but I felt it was right to show my gratitude; so, sir,
without a moment's thought, I did knock down the hare, which I was
going to carry to your worship, because I knew madam was fond of hare.
I am truly sorry for my fault, and will submit to whatever punishment
your worship may please to inflict."

Mr. Wilson was much moved with this honest confession, and touched
with the poor fellow's gratitude. What added to the effect of the
story, was the weak condition, and pale, sickly looks of the offender.
But this worthy magistrate never suffered his feelings to bias his
integrity; he knew that he did not sit on that bench to indulge pity,
but to administer justice. And while he was sorry for the offender,
he would never justify the offence.

"John," said he, "I am surprised that you could for a moment forget
that I never accept any gift which causes the giver to break a law.
On Sunday I teach you from the pulpit the laws of God, whose minister
I am. At present I fill the chair of the magistrate, to enforce and
execute the laws of the land. Between these and the others there is
more connection than you are aware. I thank you, John, for your
affection to me, and I admire your gratitude; but I must not allow
either affection or gratitude to be brought as a plea for a wrong
action. It is not your business nor mine, John, to settle whether the
game-laws are good or bad. Till they are repealed we must obey them.
Many, I doubt not, break these laws through ignorance, and many,
I am certain, who would not dare to steal a goose or a turkey, make
no scruple of knocking down a hare or a partridge. You will hereafter
think yourself happy that this your first attempt has proved
unsuccessful, as I trust you are too honest a fellow ever to intend
to turn poacher. With poaching much more evil is connected: a habit
of nightly depredation, a custom of prowling in the dark for prey,
produces in time a disrelish for honest labor. He whose first offence
was committed without much thought or evil intention, if he happens
to succeed a few times in carrying off his booty undiscovered, grows
bolder and bolder; and when he fancies there is no shame attending it,
he very soon gets to persuade himself that there is also no sin. While
some people pretend a scruple about stealing a sheep, they partly live
by plundering of warrens. But remember, that the warrener pays a high
rent, and that therefore his rabbits are as much his property as his
sheep. Do not then deceive yourselves with these false distinctions.
All property is sacred; and as the laws of the land are intended to
fence in that property, he who brings up his children to break down
any of these fences, brings them up to certain sin and ruin. He who
begins with robbing orchards, rabbit-warrens, and fish-ponds, will
probably end with horsestealing, or highway robbery. Poaching is a
regular apprenticeship to bolder crimes. He whom I may commit as a boy
to sit in the stocks for killing a partridge, may be likely to end at
the gallows for killing a man.

"Observe, you who now hear me, the strictness and impartiality of
justice. I know Giles to be a worthless fellow, yet it is my duty to
take his information; I know Jack Weston to be an honest youth, yet I
must be obliged to make him pay the penalty. Giles is a bad man, but
he can prove this fact; Jack is a worthy lad, but he has committed
this fault. I am sorry for you, Jack; but do not let it grieve you
that Giles has played worse tricks a hundred times, and yet got off,
while you were detected in the very first offence, for that would be
grieving because you are not so great a rogue as Giles. At this moment
you think your good luck is very unequal; but all this will one day
turn out in your favor. Giles is not the more a favorite of heaven
because he has hitherto escaped Botany Bay or the hulks; nor is it any
mark of God's displeasure against you, John, that you were found out
in your very first attempt."

Here the good justice left off speaking, and no one could contradict
the truth of what he had said. Weston humbly submitted to his
sentence, but he was very poor, and knew not where to raise the money
to pay his fine. His character had always been so fair, that several
farmers present kindly agreed to advance a trifle each, to prevent his
being sent to prison, and he thankfully promised to work out the debt.
The justice himself, though he could not soften the law, yet showed
Weston so much kindness, that he was enabled, before the year was out,
to get out of this difficulty. He began to think more seriously than
he had ever yet done, and grew to abhor poaching, not merely from fear
but from principle.

We shall soon see whether poaching Giles always got off so
successfully. Here we have seen that worldly prosperity is no sure
sign of goodness; and that "the triumphing of the wicked is short,"
will appear in the second part of the Poacher, containing the
entertaining story of the Widow Brown's Apple-tree.

PART II.

HISTORY OF WIDOW BROWN'S APPLE-TREE.

I think my readers are so well acquainted with Black Giles the
poacher, that they will not expect to hear any great good, either of
Giles himself, his wife Rachel, or any of their family. I am sorry to
expose their tricks, but it is their fault, not mine. If I pretend to
speak about people at all, I must tell the truth. I am sure, if folks
would but turn about and mend, it would be a thousand times pleasanter
to me to write their histories; as it is no comfort to tell of any
body's faults. If the world would but grow good, I should be glad
enough to tell of it; but till it really becomes so, I must go on
describing it as it is; otherwise I should only mislead my readers,
instead of instructing them. It is the duty of a faithful historian to
relate the evil with the good.

As to Giles and his boys, I am sure old widow Brown has good reason to
remember their dexterity. Poor woman, she had a fine little bed of
onions in her neat and well-kept garden; she was very fond of her
onions, and many a rheumatism has she caught by kneeling down to weed
them in a damp day, notwithstanding the little flannel cloak and the
bit of an old mat which Madam Wilson gave her, because the old woman
would needs weed in wet weather. Her onions she always carefully
treasured up for her winter's store; for an onion makes a little broth
very relishing, and is, indeed, the only savory thing poor people are
used to get.

She had also a small orchard, containing about a dozen apple-trees,
with which, in a good year, she has been known to make a couple of
barrels of cider, which she sold to her landlord towards paying her
rent, besides having a little keg which she was able to keep back for
her own drinking.

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