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touched in his life), for saving his favourite horse by his watchfulness and obedience. And the more poor Willie was trusted, and the more kindly he was treated, the faster grew his mind; so that in two or three years, he needed not George to work for him, for he could get his own livelihood.
Now what do you think of those boys whose treatment had a great share in making that poor boy foolish for life? What do you think they deserved ? I do not believe they meant to be as terribly cruel as they really were. They were thoughtless. In that respect, worse than Willie; for they did not use the sense that God had given them, and for which they were accountable. Many children, but chiefly boys, seem to have immense pleasure in showing their power over defenceless creatures. How would they like armed men to amuse themselves by hunting them like hares, or by laughing at them and ridiculing them ? And yet they have all been taught to do unto others as they would others should do unto them. They have all read of Him whose name they bear if they are Christians, who went about doing good, relieving every sorrow, and touched with the feeling of our infirmities.
Oh, yellow primrose, pale and fair,
I would not lift your humble face
Your little life were happier sped
Ben. Oh, mother, what a jolly day! such a hard frost, and it is Saturday—a whole holiday! I am going to slide on the farm pond, and Pat Maloney has promised to teach me to skate, and will lend me his skates, just to learn.
Mother. Oh, dear me! do you think the ice will bear? there was no frost till yesterday.
Ben. To be sure it will bear: it is as hard as iron. We shall have awful fun.
Mother. Stop, Ben; I shall be frightened to let you go on the ice unless father says you may. Run to Jervis's, where he's at work I believe, and ask him.
Ben. All right; only I know he will say I may. I'll bet you anything he will.
Mother. Oh, don't go to bet, pray; I can't bear betting
Mrs. Thompson. Oh, Mrs. Jones, make hastethey've brought word your Ben is drowned in the farm pond; they've told me to fetch you.
Mrs. Jones. Oh, what ever was father about to let him go! What ever is to be done ? Oh, for pity's sake hold my baby for me; I must run.
Mrs. Thompson. My good woman, don't take on so; perhaps it isn't true, or perhaps he will come to. Hope the best.
Mrs. Thompson. Do step in, Mrs. Smith ; I'm so upset. Here's Ben Jones gone and got drowned ; what ever is to be done ? his mother is gone distracted. She's run to fetch him home.
Mrs. Smith. Oh, he mayn't be quite dead, and there's a many ways people have of bringing them to again. I've heard my grandmother say, and she was a very aged person, and very experienced, that rolling a drowned person in a cask, their heels a little higher than their head, is a wonderful cure. You see it fetches the water out of them.
Mrs. Thompson. Indeed! Where ever could one get a cask? We have a waterbutt. Should we get it ready, do you think ? Poor thing! his mother is so upset, and she mayn't have the thought. On, see! here she is, and poor Ben too, carried home in a clothes-basket.
Mrs. Jones. Oh, what ever is to be done? Oh, if father were but at home! I've sent and sent; why ever don't he come? But the dear boy is gone! no sense in him! Oh, what shall I do?
Mrs. Smith. Here, my good woman, compose your
self; I've got a cask to roll him in, to fetch the water out of him, or else we'll hang him by the heels for a few minutes.
Mrs. Thompson. But has nobody sent for the doctor, I wonder ?
Mrs. Jones. It isn't of any use, the dear child is gone ; but I believe Pat Maloney did run for Doctor Williams. Not that I will ever forgive Pat for enticing him on the ice ; he's murdered him, he has.
Mrs: Thompson. And here he comes, riding as if for his life.
Dr. Williams. A case of drowning, is it? My good woman, why have not you undressed the poor boy ? Cut his clothes off quickly, and put him between hot blankets, quick!
Mrs. Smith. Beg pardon, sir, for interrupting, but we were going to roll him in a barrel, it's said to be a very fine thing.
Dr. Williams. It would be certain death, if that's what you want. There, get him into bed, and two of you warm your hands and flour them, and rub his body and legs gently. Raise his head a little, and then lift up his arms slowly and gently above his head, and then down again, to try to get him to breathe.
Mrs. Smith. But, sir, the water that has drowned him ? how is that to be got out?
Dr. Williams. Nonsense; swallowing water don't drown, it's the want of air in the lungs. Because the water irritates the top of the windpipe, and it shuts, no air can get in. Now just move the arms again. I fancy I saw the chest move.
then lift legs gentils and flour
Mrs. Jones. Oh, pray, sir, pray do persevere, sir, and do all you can to save my poor dear boy! I know, sir, we do owe you a long bill as it is, but father and I will work day and night, we will, and live on bread and water to pay it, if you do but bring him to. Oh, my poor child ! speak to me, do, or I shall leave my senses, I shall.
Dr. Williams. My good woman, I am not thinking about my bill; but you must not go on so. If he can hear you, and I'm not sure he cannot, nothing is so bad for him as to be agitated like that. Now suppose you go into the kitchen to your baby.
Mrs. Jones. But I am his mother, sir; nobody can do for a child like his own mother. It's so natural to him to have me about him.
Dr. Williams. But you must keep from kissing and crying over him so. I do think his chest moves really, thank God !
Mrs. Jones. Oh, thank God indeed, sir! and you too, sir ! but you'll let me stop with my dying child, sir ? Oh, here's father! Oh, father, how could you let this precious child go on the ice? You've been and murdered him, you have, you and Pat Maloney, between you.
Mr. Jones. Hush, mother, you are out of your senses. I've never seen the poor boy since yesterday, nor Pat either. I was on Willings’s farm.
Dr. Williams. I fear, Jones, that your poor wife has been too much upset to be fit to stop with Ben, who must be very quietly and carefully attended to. Nurse Wilson is at Willings's, but Mrs. Willings is doing very well, and would, I am sure, spare her for