The Junior Classics, Volume 5: Stories that never grow old
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The Junior Classics, Volume 5: Stories that never grow old
Children's literature
But a more dangerous accident happened to me in the same garden,
when my little nurse, believing she had put me in a secure place
(which I often entreated her to do, that I might enjoy my own
thoughts), and having left my box at home, to avoid the trouble of
carrying it, went to another part of the garden with her governess
and some ladies of her acquaintance. While she was absent and out
of hearing, a small white spaniel that belonged to one of the
chief gardeners, having got by accident into the garden, happened
to range near the place where I lay: the dog, following the scent,
came directly up, and taking me in his mouth, ran straight to his
master wagging his tail, and set me gently on the ground. By good
fortune he had been so well taught, that I was carried between his
teeth without the least hurt, or even tearing my clothes. But the
poor gardener, who knew me well, and had a great kindness for me,
was in a terrible fright; he gently took me up in both his hands,
and asked me how I did; but I was so amazed and out of breath,
that I could not speak a word. In a few minutes I came to myself,
and he carried me safe to my little nurse, who, by this time, had
returned to the place where she left me, and was in cruel agonies
when I did not appear, nor answer when she called. She severely
reprimanded the gardener on account of his dog. But the thing was
hushed up, and never known at court, for the girl was afraid of
the queen's anger; and truly, as to myself, I thought it would
not be for my reputation that such a story should go about.
This accident absolutely determined Glumdalclitch never to trust
me abroad for the future out of her sight. I had been long afraid
of this resolution, and therefore concealed from her some little
unlucky adventures, that happened in those times when I was left
by myself. Once a kite, hovering over the garden, made a stoop at
me, and if I had not resolutely drawn my hanger, and run under a
thick espalier, he would have certainly carried me away in his
talons. Another time, walking to the top of a fresh molehill, I
fell to my neck in the hole, through which that animal had cast up
the earth, and coined some lie, not worth remembering, to excuse
myself for spoiling my clothes. I likewise broke my right shin
against the shell of a snail, which I happened to stumble over, as
I was walking alone and thinking of poor England.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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