: A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or Some Passages in the Life of an only Son by Ewing Juliana Horatia Wheelhouse M V Mary V Illustrator - Children's stories; Boys Juvenile fiction Children's Literature

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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CHAP.

THE LANK LAWYER WAGGED MY HAND OF A MORNING, AND SAID, "AND HOW IS MISS ELIZA'S LITTLE BEAU?"

"BLESS ME, THERE'S THAT DOG!"

"MR. BUCKLE, I BELIEVE?"

SHE ROLLED ABRUPTLY OVER ON HER SEAT AND SCRAMBLED OFF BACKWARDS

POLLY AND REGIE IN THE "PULPIT" AND THE "PEW"

"ALL TOGETHER, IF YOU PLEASE!"

IT WAS ONLY A QUIET DINNER PARTY, AND MISS CHISLETT HAD BROUGHT OUT HER NEEDLEWORK

A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING

MOTHERLESS

When the children clamour for a story, my wife says to me, "Tell them how you bought a flat iron for a farthing." Which I very gladly do; for three reasons. In the first place, it is about myself, and so I take an interest in it. Secondly, it is about some one very dear to me, as will appear hereafter. Thirdly, it is the only original story in my somewhat limited collection, and I am naturally rather proud of the favour with which it is invariably received. I think it was the foolish fancy of my dear wife and children combined that this most veracious history should be committed to paper. It was either because--being so unused to authorship--I had no notion of composition, and was troubled by a tyro tendency to stray from my subject; or because the part played by the flat iron, though important, was small; or because I and my affairs were most chiefly interesting to myself as writer, and my family as readers; or from a combination of all these reasons together, that my tale outgrew its first title and we had to add a second, and call it "Some Passages in the Life of an only Son."

Yes, I was an only son. I was an only child also, speaking as the world speaks, and not as Wordsworth's "simple child" spoke. But let me rather use the "little maid's" reckoning, and say that I have, rather than that I had, a sister. "Her grave is green, it may be seen." She peeped into the world, and we called her Alice; then she went away again and took my mother with her. It was my first great, bitter grief.

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