Chapter 14
Section 16 of A Cup of Sweets That Can Never Claw or Delightful Tales for Good Children This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. A Cup of Sweets by Elizabeth Semple and Elizabeth Sandham
Edmund What an unlucky boy I am, said Edmund running towards his papa, whom he had been seeking all over the house and gardens. My grandmama has changed her mind about going to my uncle's, and instead of taking me with her to spend a fortnight at his house, when I had set my heart upon it.
I must content myself at home, she says, and wait for another opportunity. Everything goes wrong with me. It was but last week that the pigs got into my little garden and destroyed everything in it. Stop, stop, interrupted his papa, and before you complain of your evil destiny, recollect
that if you had not heard the pigs in your garden and ran in haste to drive them out of it, you would not have seen your little brother, whom you seized by the arm on the very edge of a pond, and who, in another moment, would probably have fallen into it, and would have been drowned before any of the family had missed him. It is not impossible, but that you may have cause to rejoice sometime hence at what now
appears to you such a mighty disappointment. His papa's words were soon verified, for not more than ten days had elapsed after this conversation, when they received a letter which filled them with the severest affliction. A servant belonging to his uncle had caught a dreadful putrid sore throat and fever, of which he died almost immediately, and which had infected the whole family.
He had even heard with the utmost grief that one of his cousins was no more, and that the other lay in so dangerous a state that his life was despaired of, and he did not fail to offer his unfeigned thanks to God for having preserved him from the danger to which he would have been exposed if his grandmama had not suddenly changed her intention of going to his uncle's.
He determined also that he would never in future complain of any trifling disappointments he might chance to meet with, or find fault, as he had too often done with the arrangements of Providence, but conclude that however extraordinary many things might appear to him being ordered by him who knows best what is fit for us, they must, some way or other, sooner or later, turn to our advantage and happiness.
Edmund, in his long walks he took with his papa, often met with things which appeared to him very strange, and which, notwithstanding the resolution he had made, and the rule he had laid down never to find fault, made him thoughtful, and wish to know why they were permitted. An old man, who was universally esteemed in the village, had been involved in perplexity
and trouble, as it appeared to him very unjustly. He was tenant to a rich man, and had been long and comfortably settled in a prosperous way in a little farm which lay in a fertile and beautiful valley belonging to his large estate. The rich man was hard-hearted and revengeful, and, taking a dislike to poor old Davis, on some very trifling occasion, had turned him out of the farm at so short a notice that
he had had the utmost difficulty to find a place to take shelter in. He had a great deal of trouble in removing his cattle and his poultry, his corn and his hay mows, and everything belonging to his farm, and said he was sure it would be a couple of years before he should be able to recover the expense and loss of time, and Edmund, who never went into the village without paying him a visit, and loved to chat with him and his old dame, never
heard them talk of it without thinking it was, at least, a pity that he had met with so great a misfortune. The winter was very severe, the snow fell fast, it was deep, and lay very long on the ground. Davis was obliged to take his cattle in from the fields and feed them entirely on hay. His poultry required the utmost care and attention, and everything in his garden was in danger of
perishing. This is a sad winter for poor old Davis, said Edmund to his papa. I am afraid it will put him another year behind, and I wish he had not been driven from that flourishing farm in the valley. I wish so too, replied his papa, if it would have been more for his good to have remained there. But God knows best.
The spring returned, the snow melted, torrents of water fell from the hills, the brooks swelled and overflowed the meadows, everything was inundated, the farm in the valley was entirely destroyed, and all the cattle with which the rich man had stocked it were drowned. Davis, on his hill, had felt the sharpness and biting frost of winter. He had heard the wind
roar and the rain beat against his casement, but when the snow melted he felt no ill effects from it, but turned out his cattle, which he had sheltered whilst it lay on the ground, to feast on the fresh herbage which had been preserved under it. I perceive now, said Edmund, that I have been once more mistaken, and that instead of thinking Davis an object of pity I should look upon him as a fortunate man. If he had remained in the valley
his whole property would have been destroyed and he would have been a beggar. Now he has but to be doubly attentive to his labour and he will soon recover the expense of his removal. He will then be just as well as he was, and he might this day have been without a morsel of bread or a shilling to purchase one. End of section 14
