the
LITTLE QUAKER;
or, the
TRIUMPH OF VIRTUE.
A TALE
for the instruction of youth.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR WILLIAM COLE,

10, NEWGATE STREET.

PRINTED BY G. H. DAVIDSON,
IRELAND YARD, DOCTORS’ COMMONS.

FRONTISPIECE.

The little Quaker remonstrating with George & William Hope for their cruelty. p. 11.

THE LITTLE QUAKER.

GEORGE and WILLIAM HOPE were the only children of a gentleman of fortune, who lived in a fine house at the entrance of a pretty village in Berkshire.

It was this worthy gentleman’s misfortune to be the father of two very perverse and disobedient sons; who, instead of trying to please him by dutiful and obliging conduct, grieved him continually by their unworthy behaviour, and then were so wicked as to laugh at the lessons of morality their parent set before them.

When they returned from school to spend the holydays, they neglected their studies to roam about the streets with low company; from whom they learned profane language, vulgar amusements, and cruelty to animals; but such conduct, as may well be supposed, did not conduce to their happiness. They had no friends among the good and virtuous in their own rank in life; and were even despised and condemned by the bad companions, who, in the first instance, had encouraged their depravity.

Their idle pursuits gave Mr. Hope great pain, who tried, by gentle remonstrances, to make them ashamed of their evil propensities; but, finding that kindness had no effect in their ungenerous dispositions, he determined for the future to punish them severely, whenever they disobeyed his commands.

Mr. Hope had a very near neighbour, whose meadow and pleasure-garden were only separated from his by a high row of paling. Mrs. Shirley, for so this lady was called, was a very excellent and benevolent woman, and a member of that respectable society of friends commonly known by the name of Quakers.

Mrs. Shirley was a widow; and, having lost her own family, she brought up her two grandchildren, a youth of fourteen years of age, and a pretty little girl, who scarcely reckoned half that number of years.

Josiah Shirley was at once his kind Grandmamma’s pride and comfort; and, from his amiable and obliging conduct, was justly esteemed and beloved by the whole village; and his name was never mentioned without the praise his modest and gentlemanlike behaviour deserved.

Mr. Hope had often contrasted, with feelings of regret, this sweet boy’s conduct with that of his own sons; and, hoping that his gentle temper and moral pursuits might have some effect on the perverted minds of George and William, he invited him pressingly to his house, and bestowed on the young Quaker many marks of his esteem and favour.

The approbation of the father only drew upon Josiah the dislike and envy of his sons. Among other follies, they ridiculed him for being a Quaker.

The cut of his clothes, the shape of his hat, his modest and retiring manners, were all subjects of mirth to these unthinking boys, who tried by the most provoking language to rouse him into retaliation: but Josiah was a maker of peace, not a breaker of it; and, though he could not help keenly feeling their unkindness, his good Grandmamma had early taught him this excellent lesson, “To return good for evil;” and Josiah not only treated their insults with the silent contempt they deserved, but often earnestly entreated them to renounce their foolish ways, and he would endeavour to assist them in the arduous task of reformation.

His advice was received with such rudeness, that the benevolent boy, disgusted at length with their unprovoked malice, took his leave, declining all acquaintance with the young gentlemen for the future.

“I wonder, young men, you do not blush at your disgraceful behaviour,” exclaimed Mr. Hope, viewing his sons with unfeigned displeasure, the morning Josiah took his leave. “Your folly has deprived you of the friendship of an excellent and upright youth, whose good counsels might have benefitted you through life.”

“I hate Joe Shirley, Papa,” replied George, with the greatest assurance; “and never will attend to a word he says; a meddling impertinent fellow! What business can he have to trouble his head with us?”

“Go! go! unworthy as you are to be called my sons,” said Mr. Hope; “I am glad your poor Mamma did not live to witness your depravity;—and you, George, whom she loved so well, that she expired with you in her arms!—it would have broken her heart to have seen you now. Go, cruel and unfeeling as you are, I no longer wonder at the good Josiah renouncing your acquaintance; but the time may come, when you will bitterly lament not taking his advice.” So saying, Mr. Hope set them their accustomary tasks, and left the room.

His father’s reproofs, instead of softening the heart of George, only enraged his haughty spirit more violently against the unoffending Josiah; and he was determined to annoy him every opportunity which chance should afford him: nor was it long before he was enabled to put his designs into execution.

One day, after Mr. Hope had dismissed his sons from their morning studies, William inquired of his brother, where they should play.

“Not in the garden, William,” replied George; “I have not forgotten the stripes I received yesterday for treading down the flowers. I hate flowers! We cannot steal a handful of green gooseberries without spoiling the flowers.”

“But we need not confine ourselves to the garden, George. We can play at football on the lawn; or shoot arrows at a mark, in the court-yard.”

“I am tired of these games,” said George. “Let us climb over the pales into the Quaker’s meadow, and chase the geese.”

“With all my heart,” replied William; “but if Mrs. Shirley should see us, and tell Papa, you know how our diversion would end.”

“Why surely, Will, you are not such a coward, as to be afraid of the old woman. If she catches us, she will only talk to us about cruelty and such stuff, in her methodistical way. Come, let us play in their meadow, if it is only to spite that sly-faced hypocrite, Josiah.”

“It will certainly be good sport,” replied William, “to see the geese waddle and scream, flapping their wide wings, which look exactly like young broadbrim’s hat.”

George laughed heartily at this sally. “Yes! yes! William, Master Graveairs dare not fight, if he can scold; so make no more scruples, but follow your leader:”