The Thorogood Family

The Thorogood Family, by R.M.
Ballantyne

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Title: The Thorogood Family
Author: R.M. Ballantyne
Illustrator: Henry Austin
Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23381]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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THOROGOOD FAMILY ***

Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

The Thorogood Family, by R.M. Ballantyne.
CHAPTER ONE.

This family was not only Thorogood but thorough-going. The father
was a blacksmith, with five sons and one daughter, and he used to
hammer truth into his children's heads with as much vigour as he was
wont to hammer the tough iron on his anvil; but he did it kindly. He
was not a growly-wowly, cross-grained man, like some fathers we
know of--not he. His broad, hairy face was like a sun, and his eyes
darted sunbeams wherever they turned. The faces of his five sons were
just like his own, except in regard to roughness and hair. Tom, and
Dick, and Harry, and Bob, and Jim, were their names. Jim was the baby.
Their ages were equally separated. If you began with Jim, who was
three, you had only to say--four, five, six, seven--Tom being seven.
These five boys were broad, and sturdy, like their father. Like him, also,
they were fond of noise and hammering. They hammered the furniture
of their father's cottage, until all of it that was weak was smashed, and
all that was strong became dreadfully dinted. They also hammered each
other's noses with their little fat fists, at times, but they soon grew too
old and wise for that; they soon, also, left off hammering the heads of
their sister's dolls, which was a favourite amusement in their earlier
days.
The mention of dolls brings us to the sister. She was like her mother--
little, soft, fair, and sweet-voiced; just as unlike her brothers in
appearance as possible--except that she had their bright blue, blazing
eyes. Her age was eight years.
It was, truly, a sight to behold this family sit down to supper of an
evening. The blacksmith would come in and seize little Jim in his
brawny arms, and toss him up to the very beams of the ceiling, after
which he would take little Molly on his knee, and fondle her, while
"Old Moll," as he sometimes called his wife, spread the cloth and
loaded the table with good things.
A cat, a kitten, and a terrier, lived together in that smith's cottage on
friendly terms. They romped with each other, and with the five boys, so
that the noise used sometimes to be tremendous; but it was not an
unpleasant noise, because there were no sounds of discontent or
quarrelling in it. You see, the blacksmith and his wife trained that

family well. It is wonderful what an amount of noise one can stand
when it is good-humoured noise.
Well, this blacksmith had a favourite maxim, which he was fond of
impressing on his children. It was this--"Whatever your hand finds to
do, do it with all your might, doing it as if to the Lord, and not to men."
We need hardly say that he found something like this maxim in the
Bible--a grand channel through which wisdom flows to man.
Of course he had some trouble in teaching his little ones, just as other
fathers have. One evening, when speaking about this favourite maxim,
he was interrupted by a most awful yell under the table.
"Why, what ever is the matter with the cat?" said the blacksmith in
surprise.
"It's on'y me, fadder," said little Jim; "I found hims tail, and I pulled it
wid all my might!"
"Ah, Jim!" said Mrs Thorogood, laughing, as she placed a huge plate of
crumpets on the table, "it's only when a thing is right we are to do it
with our might. Pulling the cat's tail is wrong.
"`When a thing's wrong, Let it alone. When a thing's right, Do it with
might.'
"Come now, supper's ready."
"Capital poetry, Old Moll," shouted the blacksmith, as he drew in his
chair, "but not quite so good as the supper. Now, then--silence."
A blessing was asked with clasped hands and shut eyes. Then there was
a sudden opening of the eyes and a tendency in little hands to grasp at
the crumpets, buttered-toast, bacon, and beans, but good training told.
Self-restraint was obvious in every trembling fist and glancing eye.
Only curly-haired little Jim found the smell too much for him.