The Penguin Book of the British Short Story, Volume 1 Page 9

  Poor Betty had not a nice conscience, for she had never learnt that grand, but simple rule of all moral obligation, ‘Never do that to another which you would not have another do to you.’ She set off with her barrow as proud and as happy as if she had been set up in the finest shop in Covent Garden. Betty had a sort of natural good-nature, which made her unwilling to impose, but she had no principle which told her it was a sin.She had such good success, that, when night came she had not an orange left. With a light heart, she drove her empty barrow to Mrs Sponge’s door. She went in with a merry face, and threw down on the counter every farthing she had taken. ‘Betty,’ said Mrs Sponge, ‘I have a right to it all, as it was got by my money. But I am too generous to take it. I will therefore only take sixpence for this day’s use of my five shillings. This is a most reasonable interest, and I will lend you the same sum to trade with to-morrow, and so on; you only paying me sixpence for the use of it every night, which will be a great bargain to you. You must also pay me my price every night for your supper, and you shall have an excellent lodging above stairs; so you see every thing will now be provided for you in a genteel manner, through my generosity.’

  Poor Betty’s gratitude blinded her so completely that she forgot to calculate the vast proportion which this generous benefactress was to receive out of her little gains. She thought herself a happy creature, and went in to supper with a number of others of her own class. For this supper, and for more porter and gin than she ought to have drank, Betty was forced to pay so high, that it eat up all the profits of the day, which, added to the daily interest, made Mrs Sponge a rich return for her five shillings.

  Betty was reminded again of the gentility of her new situation, as she crept up to bed in one of Mrs Sponge’s garrets five stories high. This loft, to be sure, was small, and had no window, but what it wanted in light was made up in company, as it had three beds, and thrice as many lodgers. Those gentry had one night, in a drunken frolic, broke down the door, which happily had never been replaced; for, since that time, the lodgers had died much seldomer of infectious distempers. For this lodging Betty paid twice as much to her good friend as she would have done to a stranger. Thus she continued, with great industry and a thriving trade, as poor as on the first day, and not a bit nearer to saving money enough to buy her even a pair of shoes, though her feet were nearly on the ground.

  One day, as Betty was driving her barrow through a street near Holborn, a lady from a window called out to her that she wanted some oranges. While the servants went to fetch a plate, the lady entered into some talk with Betty, having been struck with her honest countenance and civil manner. She questioned her as to her way of life, and the profits of her trade – and Betty, who had never been so kindly treated before by so genteel a person, was very communicative. She told her little history as far as she knew it, and dwelt much on the generosity of Mrs Sponge, in keeping her in her house, and trusting her with so large a capital as five shillings. At first it sounded like a very good-natured thing but the lady, whose husband was one of the Justices of the new Police, happened to know more of Mrs Sponge than was good, which led her to inquire still further. Betty owned, that to be sure it was not all clear profit, for that besides that the high price of the supper and bed ran away with all she got, she paid sixpence a day for the use of the five shillings. ‘And how long have you done this?’ said the lady. ‘About a year, Madam.’

  The lady’s eyes were at once opened. ‘My poor girl,’ said she, ‘do you know that you have already paid for that single five shillings the enormous sum of 7l. 10s.? I believe it is the most profitable five shillings Mrs Sponge ever laid out.’ ‘O, no, Madam,’ said the girl, ‘that good gentlewoman does the same kindness to ten or twelve other poor friendless creatures like me.’ ‘Does she so?’ said the lady; ‘then I never heard of a better trade than this woman carries on, under the mask of charity, at the expence of her poor deluded fellow-creatures.’

  ‘But, Madam,’ said Betty, who did not comprehend this lady’s arithmetic, ‘what can I do? I now contrive to pick up a morsel of bread without begging or stealing. Mrs Sponge has been very good to me; and I don’t see how I can help myself.’

  ‘I will tell you,’ said the lady. ‘If you will follow my advice, you may not only maintain yourself honestly, but independently. Only oblige yourself to live hard for a little time, till you have saved five shillings out of your own earnings. Give up that expensive supper at night, drink only one pint of porter, and no gin at all. As soon as you have scraped together the five shillings, carry it back to your false friend; and if you are industrious, you will, at the end of the year, have saved 7l. 10s. If you can make a shift to live now, when you have this heavy interest to pay, judge how things will mend when your capital becomes your own. You will put some cloaths on your back, and by leaving the use of spirits, and the company in which you drink them, your health, your morals, and your condition will mend.’

  The lady did not talk thus to save her money. She would gladly have given the girl the five shillings; but she thought it was beginning at the wrong end. She wanted to try her. Besides, she knew there was more pleasure as well as honour in possessing five shillings of one’s own saving than of another’s giving. Betty promised to obey. She owned she had got no good by the company or the liquor at Mrs Sponge’s. She promised that very night to begin saving the expence of the supper, and that she would not taste a drop of gin till she had the five shillings beforehand. The lady, who knew the power of good habits, was contented with this, thinking, that if the girl could abstain for a certain time, it would become easy to her. In a very few weeks Betty had saved up the five shillings. She went to carry back this money with great gratitude to Mrs Sponge. This kind friend began to abuse her most unmercifully. She called her many hard names not fit to repeat, for having forsaken the supper, by which she swore she got nothing at all; but as she had the charity to dress it for such beggarly wretches, she insisted they should pay for it, whether they eat it or not. She also brought in a heavy score for lodging, though Betty had paid for it every night, and had given notice of her intending to quit her. By all these false pretences, she got from her not only her own five shillings, but all the little capital with which Betty was going to set up for herself. As all was not sufficient to answer her demands, she declared she would send her to prison; but while she went to call a Constable, Betty contrived to make off.

  With a light pocket and a heavy heart, she went back to the lady; and with many tears told her sad story. The lady’s husband, the Justice, condescended to listen to Betty’s tale. He said Mrs Sponge had long been upon his books as a receiver of stolen goods. Betty’s evidence strengthened his bad opinion of her. ‘This petty system of usury,’ said the gentleman, ‘may be thought trifling, but it will no longer appear so, when you reflect, that if one of these female sharpers possesses a capital of seventy shillings, or 3l. 10s. with fourteen steady regular customers, she can realize a fixed income of 100 guineas a year. Add to this the influence such a loan gives her over these friendless creatures, by compelling them to eat at her house, or lodge, or buy liquors, or by taking their pawns, and you will see the extent of the evil. I pity these poor victims: you, Betty, shall point out some of them to me. I will endeavour to open their eyes on their own bad management. It is one of the greatest acts of kindness to the poor to mend their economy, and to give them right views of laying out their little money to advantage. These poor blinded creatures look no farther than to be able to pay this heavy interest every night, and to obtain the same loan on the same hard terms the next day. Thus are they kept in poverty and bondage all their lives; but I hope as many as hear of this will get on a better plan, and I shall be ready to help any who are willing to help themselves.’ This worthy Magistrate went directly to Mrs Sponge’s with proper officers; and he soon got to the bottom of many iniquities. He not only made her refund poor Betty’s money, but committed her to prison for receiving stolen goods, and various other offences, which may pe
rhaps make the subject of another history.

  Betty was now set up in trade to her heart’s content. She had found the benefit of leaving off spirits, and she resolved to drink them no more. The first fruits of this resolution was, that in a fortnight she bought herself a new pair of shoes, and as there was now no deduction for interest or for gin, her earnings became considerable. The lady made her a present of a gown and a hat, on the easy condition that she should go to church. She accepted the terms, at first rather as an act of obedience to the lady than from a sense of higher duty. But she soon began to go from a better motive. This constant attendance at church, joined to the instructions of the lady, opened a new world to Betty. She now heard for the first time that she was a sinner; that God had given a law which was holy, just, and good; that she had broken this law, had been a swearer, a sabbath-breaker, and had lived without God in the world. All this was sad news to Betty; she knew, indeed, that there were sinners, but she thought they were only to be found in the prisons, or at Botany Bay, or in those mournful carts which she had sometimes followed, with her barrow, with the unthinking crowd, to Tyburn. She was deeply struck with the great truths revealed in the Scripture, which were quite new to her. She was desirous of improvement, and said, she would give up all the profits of her barrow, and go into the hardest service, rather than live in sin and ignorance.

  ‘Betty,’ said the lady, ‘I am glad to see you so well disposed, and will do what I can for you. Your present way of life, to be sure, exposes you to much danger; but the trade is not unlawful in itself, and we may please God in any calling, provided it be not a dishonest one. In this great town there must be barrow women to sell fruit. Do you, then, instead of forsaking your business, set a good example to those in it, and shew them, that though a dangerous trade, it need not be a bad one. Till Providence points out some safer way of getting your bread, let your companions see, that it is possible to be good even in this. Your trade being carried on in the open street, and your fruit bought in an open shop, you are not so much obliged to keep sinful company as may be thought. Take a garret in an honest house, to which you may go home in safety at night. I will give you a bed and a few necessaries to furnish your room; and I will also give you a constant Sunday’s dinner. A barrow woman, blessed be God and our good laws, is as much her own mistress on Sundays as a Duchess; and the Church and the Bible are as much open to her. You may soon learn all that such as you are expected to know. A barrow woman may pray as heartily morning and night, and serve God as acceptably all day, while she is carrying on her little trade, as if she had her whole time to spare.

  To do this well, you must mind the following

  RULES FOR RETAIL DEALERS:

  Resist every temptation to cheat.

  Never impose bad goods on false pretences.

  Never put off bad money for good.

  Never use profane or uncivil language.

  Never swear your goods cost so much, when you know it is false.

  By so doing you are guilty of two sins in one breath, a lie and an oath.

  To break these rules, will be your chief temptation. God will mark how you behave under them, and will reward or punish you accordingly. These temptations will be as great to you as higher trials are to higher people; but you have the same God to look to for strength to resist them as they have. You must pray to him to give you this strength. You shall attend a Sunday School, where you will be taught these good things; and I will promote you as you shall be found to deserve.’

  Poor Betty here burst into tears of joy and gratitude, crying out, ‘What, shall such a poor friendless creature as I be treated so kindly and learn to read the word of God too? Oh, Madam, what a lucky chance brought me to your door.’ ‘Betty,’ said the lady, ‘what you have just said, shews the need you have of being better taught: there is no such thing as chance; and we offend God when we call that luck or chance which is brought about by his will and pleasure. None of the events of your life have happened by chance; but all have been under the direction of a good and kind Providence. He has permitted you to experience want and distress, that you might acknowledge his hand in your present comfort and prosperity. Above all, you must bless his goodness in sending you to me, not only because I have been of use to you in your worldly affairs, but because he has enabled me to shew you the danger of your state from sin and ignorance, and to put you in a way to know his will and to keep his commandments.’

  How Betty, by industry and piety, rose in the world, till at length she came to keep that handsome sausage-shop near the Seven Dials, and was married to an honest hackney-coachman, may be told at some future time, in a Second Part.

  Mary Lamb

  The Farm House

  My name is Louisa Manners; I was seven years of age last birthday, which was on the first of May. I remember only four birthdays. The day I was four years old was the first that I recollect. On the morning of that day, as soon as I awoke, I crept into mamma’s bed, and said, ‘Open your eyes, mamma, for it is my birthday. Open your eyes and look at me!’ Then mamma told me I should ride in a post-chaise, and see my grandmamma and my sister Sarah. Grandmamma lived at a farmhouse in the country, and I had never in all my life been out of London; no, nor had I ever seen a bit of green grass, except in the Drapers’ Garden, which is near my papa’s house in Broad Street; nor had I ever rode in a carriage before that happy birthday.

  I ran about the house talking of where I was going, and rejoicing so that it was my birthday, that when I got into the chaise I was tired, and fell asleep.

  When I awoke, I saw the green fields on both sides of the chaise, and the fields were full, quite full, of bright shining yellow flowers, and sheep and young lambs were feeding in them. I jumped, and clapped my hands together for joy, and I cried out, ‘This is

  “Abroad in the meadows to see the young lambs,” ’

  for I knew many of Watts’s hymns by heart.

  The trees and hedges seemed to fly swiftly by us, and one field, and the sheep, and the young lambs, passed away; and then another field came, and that was full of cows; and then another field, and all the pretty sheep returned; and there was no end of these charming sights till we came quite to grandmamma’s house, which stood all alone by itself, no house to be seen at all near it.

  Grandmamma was very glad to see me, and she was very sorry that I did not remember her, though I had been so fond of her when she was in town but a few months before. I was quite ashamed of my bad memory. My sister Sarah showed me all the beautiful places about grandmamma’s house. She first took me into the farmyard, and I peeped into the barn; there I saw a man thrashing, and as he beat the corn with his flail, he made such a dreadful noise that I was frightened, and ran away; my sister persuaded me to return; she said Will Tasker was very good-natured; then I went back, and peeped at him again; but as I could not reconcile myself to the sound of his flail, or the sight of his black beard, we proceeded to see the rest of the farmyard.

  There was no end to the curiosities that Sarah had to show me. There was the pond where the ducks were swimming, and the little wooden houses where the hens slept at night. The hens were feeding all over the yard, and the prettiest little chickens, they were feeding too, and little yellow ducklings that had a hen for their mamma. She was so frightened if they went near the water! Grandmamma says a hen is not esteemed a very wise bird.

  We went out of the farmyard into the orchard. Oh, what a sweet place grandmamma’s orchard is! There were pear-trees, and apple-trees, and cherry-trees, all in blossom. These blossoms were the prettiest flowers that ever were seen; and among the grass under the trees there grew buttercups, and cowslips, and daffodils, and blue-bells. Sarah told me all their names, and she said I might pick as many of them as ever I pleased.

  I filled my lap with flowers, I filled my bosom with flowers, and I carried as many flowers as I could in both my hands; but as I was going into the parlour to show them to my mamma, I stumbled over a threshold which was placed across the parlour, a
nd down I fell with all my treasure.

  Nothing could have so well pacified me for the misfortune of my fallen flowers as the sight of a delicious syllabub which happened at that moment to be brought in. Grandmamma said it was a present from the red cow to me because it was my birthday; and then, because it was the first of May, she ordered the syllabub to be placed under the May-bush that grew before the parlour-door, and when we were seated on the grass round it, she helped me the very first to a large glass full of the syllabub, and wished me many happy returns of that day, and then she said I was myself the sweetest little May-blossom in the orchard.

  After the syllabub, there was the garden to see, and a most beautiful garden it was; – long and narrow, a straight gravel walk down the middle of it; at the end of the gravel walk there was a green arbour with a bench under it.

  There were rows of cabbages and radishes, and pease and beans. I was delighted to see them, for I never saw so much as a cabbage growing out of the ground before.

  On one side of this charming garden there were a great many beehives, and the bees sung so prettily.

  Mamma said, ‘Have you nothing to say to these pretty bees, Louisa?’ Then I said to them –

  ‘How doth the little busy bee improve each shining hour,

  And gather honey all the day from every opening flower.’

  They had a most beautiful flower-bed to gather it from, quite close under the hives.

  I was going to catch one bee, till Sarah told me about their stings, which made me afraid for a long time to go too near their hives; but I went a little nearer, and a little nearer every day, and before I came away from grandmamma’s, I grew so bold, I let Will Tasker hold me over the glass windows at the top of the hives, to see them make honey in their own home.