CHAPTER II.
MY FIRST ADVENTURE.
OUR education being now finished, two hundred and fifty of us were packed up together, and remained in darkness and seclusion for some time. We were then removed, separated, and in smaller numbers placed in neat little dark-coloured papers, and kept in a box in a shop. Of all the tiresome parts of my life, this was the most tiresome by far. I longed for the moment when I should be taken from the prison, and see a little of the world. I was quite discontented with my state.
“Why was I made, if not to be used?” thought I. “Why have I undergone all this heating, hitting, and polishing? why am I so sharp, so neat, so bright, if not to make some figure in the world?” I was only a young needle, you see, and impatience is natural to youth: I am not the only one who has found it hard to stay contentedly in the position in which he has been placed.
At length I felt myself moved (you know that I could see nothing out of my paper). I believe that I had been bought and sold; and though not at once released from my confinement, I felt reasonable hopes that I soon should be so. Nor were my expectations disappointed.
“Oh, mamma! dear mamma! what a sweet little work-box—and all fitted up so nicely!” exclaimed a childish voice near me. I longed to have a peep at the speaker.
“I hope that it may assist my Lily to be a tidy, useful little girl, such as her mother would wish to see her.”
“What a pretty silver thimble! and it fits me exactly; just see! You’ve left a place for my scissors, as I have a nice pair already. What neat, tiny reels!—and what’s this? a yard measure—ah! and here is wax to make my thread strong! Thank you, dear mamma, again and again!”
I confess that I was rather in a state of irritation. Nobody seemed to be thinking in the least about me; after all my finished education, it was not thought worth while even to give me a look. At length my paper was moved, very roughly torn open, light flashed upon its contents, and I and my companions were scattered in every direction, I alighting on the Holland pinafore of a fair, chubby-faced boy, who had been the author of the mischief.
“Oh, Eddy! you tiresome child! if you would only leave my box alone—just see what you’ve done with my needles!”
I seized the opportunity of looking around me, in no hurry for my resting-place to be discovered. I found myself in a very comfortable room, full of so many things to excite my curiosity, that I felt as though I could have gazed for ever! But perhaps what interested me most was my first sight of the human beings who occupied the apartment. They were so unlike the workmen to whom I had been accustomed, that I examined them just as a philosopher might examine some newly-discovered curiosity.
In the first place, there was a gentle, blue-eyed lady, who sat near the table on which the work-box was placed; while on her knee rested a very plump little child, calmly engaged in sucking her thumb. A girl of about ten years of age (I knew nothing of ages then, and had not a notion of anything growing, but I have since learned much from observation) was on her knees, searching for her needles. She was evidently to be my future mistress, and I anxiously glanced into her face to read what sort of a child she might be. I scarcely knew whether her countenance pleased me or not. She had light eyes, like her mamma; rather a turned-up little nose, which gave her a somewhat saucy expression; and I am sorry to say that, just at that moment, I saw on her brow sundry creases, which did not give me an idea of good temper. I know that it is a foolish feeling of mine, but whenever I see those ugly creases rising on the brow of a little boy or girl, I always feel inclined to bestow on them a little prick, just by way of good counsel, you understand! I have seen lines, and very deep lines, made on the forehead by care; I could just faintly trace some on that of Mrs. Ellerslie; they became only too distinct in the course of time, but they never for a moment altered the gentle expression of her face.
I think now that I hear her soft voice as she said,—
“Oh, Lily, do not be so much vexed with your brother. You know that he is only a little boy. Come, my Eddy, let us help to look for the needles; you must not touch the papers again!”
I cannot say much for Eddy’s skill or industry in the search; he was much more intent on making baby laugh by snapping his fingers and grinning at her, turning his head knowingly first on one side, then on the other, till he succeeded in drawing from her a merry crow, and a smile showed her little toothless gums.
Such success elated Eddy, and, determined to press a good kiss on that sweet little mouth, he came close—too close to her, alas! for he caused me to inflict, I am sorry to confess it, a very tiny scratch on the baby’s plump white arm.
You should have heard what a scream she set up! I really felt quite embarrassed: was this to be the commencement of my career, was I to begin my services by mischief? You must consider also, gentle reader, that my astonishment was very great at the effect produced by my head simply rubbing against a child’s arm! I myself, though not a thousandth part of the size of the baby, had borne hammering, bruising, and battering, not only in silence, but with little inconvenience; and here the smallest touch seemed to excite terror and pain such as had never even entered into my fancy. Ah! I soon found how very different the human species is from ours; how easily their tender flesh is wounded, and—what I thought still more strange—how easily their feelings are pained! It has seemed to me, from what I have observed in life, and from what I have heard from companions of my own, possessing greater experience, that there are some human beings whose great business seems to be, pricking and paining the hearts of those around them; as if life were not full enough of sorrows without our wilfully bringing them upon our neighbours.
Eddy seemed much more penitent for having hurt baby than for having overthrown Lily’s paper of needles, though the latter action had been the cause of the former. He joined his mother and sister in trying to soothe little Rosey, and assured her so often that he was “very, very sorry,” and called her by so many sweet names, “little pet, darling, and duck,” and kissed the scratched arm so often, that she soon appeared quite pacified. I was not so well pleased at the titles which he gave me, throwing all the blame on “the naughty, ugly needle,” that had been the innocent cause of her pain. I was rather in ill humour when Lily hastily replaced me in the work-box, not dreaming of putting me back in my paper, but sticking me unceremoniously into the red silk which lined the top of the box. And there I was to remain, in company with other articles of metal, with which I soon entered into acquaintance; for all the metals are naturally related to each other, and I was able to make myself understood by everything bearing the nature of a mineral.