He did not try any other ornamental
work. Of course the young lad could not do this without the help of a
cobbler, to shew him what and how to do each portion of his boot-making;
but the man was frightened at having so apt a pupil, and begged pardon
for his former neglect; for though they were not all they might have
been; they were boots.
"I see," said he, "if some people neglect their work, there are sure to
be others about who will soon leave them no business to do."
After this, he would sit for quite half a day at his work without going
round to the "Cobbler's Arms." Some people said it was the wax that got
on his seat that made him do it; but I do not think it was.
[Illustration: The Little Gardener]
_A flower lives, a flower dies,
And we so stand and fall;
Some flowers waft scent to the skies,
And pleasure give to all._
THE LITTLE GARDENER.
There was no nicer garden in all Surrey than Mr. Woffle's. A funny name
you'll say, but he couldn't help that. One day he came home, and after
first kissing his three children, who were all fairly good ones--you
know what I mean, neither better nor worse than most little children you
and I know--said, the governess, before he went to business, had
mentioned that they had of late attended to their lessons, and he should
be pleased to grant them anything in reason.
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