ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE LAW OF KINDNESS,
JEMMY STUBBINS,
OR
THE NAILER BOY.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE LAW OF KINDNESS,
To the Boys and Girls in America,
Who took the "Little Nailer" of the father-land from his smithy, andsent him to School for two years I dedicate this little Book, as anoffering of my affection, and as a souvenir of that loving act ofbenevolent sympathy.
ELIHU BURRITT.
Worcester, Mass., March 20, 1850.
JEMMY STUBBINS, OR THE NAILER BOY.
Before I left America in 1846, in order to gratify the wish that hadlong occupied my heart, of visiting the motherland, I formed for myselfa plan of procedure to which I hoped to be able rigidly to adhere. Idetermined that my visit to England should bring me face to face withthe people; that I should converse with the artizan in his workshop, andlifting the lowly door-latches of the poor, should become intimatelyacquainted with their life—with their manners, and it might be, withtheir hopes and sorrows.
TUESDAY, JULY 21st, 1846.—After a quiet cosy breakfast, served up on alittle round table for myself alone, I sat down to test thepracticability of the plan I had formed at home for my peregrinations inEngland:—viz., to write until one, P.M., then to take my staff andtravel on, eight or ten miles, to another convenient stopping-place forthe night. As much depended upon the success of the experiment, I wasdetermined to carry the point against the predictions of my friends. Soat it I went, con amore. The house was as quiet as if a profoundSabbath was resting upon it, and the windows of my airy chamber lookedthrough the foliage of grave elms down upon a green valley. I got onswimmingly; and after a frugal dinner at the little round table, Ibuckled on my knapsack with a feeling of self-gratulation in view of theliterary part of my day's work. Having paid my bill, and given the ladya copy of my corn-meal receipts, I resumed my walk toward W----.
I was suddenly diverted from my contemplation of this magnificentscenery, by a fall of heavy rain drops, as the prelude of an impendingshower. Seeing a gate open, and hearing a familiar clicking behind thehedge, I stepped through into a little blacksmith's shop, about as largean American smoke-house for curing bacon. The first object that my eyesrested on, was a full-grown man nine years of age, and nearly three feethigh, perched upon a stone of half that height, to raise his breast tothe level of his father's anvil, at which he was at work, with all thevigor of his little short arms, making nails. I say, a full-grown man;for I fear he can never grow any larger, physically or mentally. As Iput my hand on his shoulders in a familiar way, to make myself at homewith him, and to remove the timidity with which my sudden appearanceseemed to inspire him, by a pleasant word or two of greeting, his fleshfelt case-har