Part 1

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MAY DAY; OR, ANECDOTES OF _Miss LYDIA LIVELY_.

MAY DAY; OR, ANECDOTES OF _Miss LYDIA LIVELY_.

INTENDED TO IMPROVE AND AMUSE THE _RISING GENERATION_.

London:

Printed and Sold by JOHN MARSHALL, at No. 4, ALDERMARY CHURCH-YARD, in BOW-LANE; and No. 17, QUEEN-STREET, CHEAPSIDE.

1793.

MAY DAY, _&c._

CHAPTER THE FIRST.

_THE STORY._

Miss _Lydia Lively_ was sitting one day in the parlour, upon a little stool, reading the _History of Little Ann and Little James_, when her Mamma, who had been out some hours on a visit, came in. The little girl ran to her with great joy, and told her, that her aunt had called, and had given her the prettiest little book she ever read.

LYDIA.

It is about a little girl, Mamma, just my age; and it tells you every thing that she did; and how well she behaved; and there are some nice pictures in it—I wish I had a great many such little books.

MAMMA.

Then you like to read stories about good girls, do you, _Lydia_?

LYDIA.

Yes, I do; do not you, Mamma?

MAMMA.

Yes; and to see them too. I think there is nothing so delightful as the company of Children who are gentle and good-humoured; and who are cheerful and ready to oblige, without being troublesome or noisy.

LYDIA.

I wish I had some more stories about good girls and boys.

MAMMA.

Should you like to have a story written about you, _Lydia_? Do you think it would be a pretty one?

LYDIA.

I am afraid I am not good enough, Mamma.

MAMMA.

Indeed I doubt there would be some things in the story not quite so pretty. I suspect we should sometimes hear something about whining for a cup of tea; asking ten times for the same thing; or, what is still worse, being cross and impatient with poor little _Edwin_, if he meddle with any of your things.

LYDIA.

Oh! Mamma: but I am good sometimes; and I am sure I always wish to be good, and am uncomfortable whenever I am not; but I do not know how it is,—I think I cannot help being naughty sometimes.

MAMMA.

Pray do not fancy so my dear; you certainly might help it; but I will tell you the real case—you just follow your present inclination; instead of resolving always to do what is right, you sit down, perhaps, with an inclination to be very good at your lessons, and to read very well, and translate your French very well; as long as that inclination lasts you proceed with pleasure; but you happen to meet with something in your books not quite so entertaining as you expected, or a little difficult, and then you have an inclination to fret, or to look off your book, and complain of being tired; or it may be, you come into the room very good-humoured and cheerful, and find somebody has taken your seat, or that you cannot have the book you wished for, and then you have an inclination directly to whine, grumble, and draw your lip on one side; and, I am sorry to say, _Lydia_, you are too apt to give way to such inclinations.

LYDIA.

What must I do then, Mamma?

MAMMA.

I will tell you, my dear, you must, in the first place, very heartily wish to be good; and that I hope you do. In the next place, you must, when you say your prayers, very earnestly beg of GOD to make you good; and then, instead of doing just what you have a mind to do, you must resolve with yourself, and try upon all occasions, not to do any thing you know is wrong, and which I have told you not to do.

LYDIA.

Do you think, if I were to try then, I could always be good, Madam?

MAMMA.

Certainly! if you tried you might avoid doing a great many wrong things. Suppose now, when you sat down to breakfast, and felt impatient for your tea or your roll,—do you think, if you considered a minute, that it is greedy and impatient to say any thing about it, that you could not help asking for your tea before any body was helped, or whining if the rolls did not come in directly; and that you could not try to amuse yourself by thinking of something else for a little while?

LYDIA.

Yes; I think I could.

MAMMA.

To be sure you could, my dear; and so in every other instance. If you do not feel disposed to get your lessons, and do your work at the proper times; yet if you did but reflect how fit it is that you should learn and improve yourself, and what a fault idleness is, you may help fretting and saying, I do not like to do this; and you may resolve to keep on and do as well as you can, without making any complaints.

LYDIA.

I am not very often naughty about reading, Mamma?

MAMMA.

Not very often; but that is because you love reading; now I want you to do every thing, because you think it is right and fit you should do it; and then you will do those duties you do not find any great pleasure in, as well as those you delight in. And above all things, I wish you to watch constantly over your temper, to be ever ready to oblige, and do all innocent things, because you are desired; and keep yourself always in a good-humour.

LYDIA.

But sometimes things happen to tease me, and make me fret.

MAMMA.

Then is the time to try to get the better of yourself; things may not always go as you like; but nothing can make you fret unless you will: for example, if little _Edwin_ come in and catch up your book, or your doll, we suppose you had rather he let them alone, but you need not make a great noise, and whine, and call him a naughty boy, and run and snatch them roughly from him; you may speak in a good-humoured tone of voice, and say, Pray, _Edwin_, give me my book, or any thing else he has; and if he did not attend to that, as he is but a little boy, you could wait quietly a little while, till he laid it down, though you might know you would have liked better to have it then; and that would not be half so uncomfortable to you as putting yourself in a passion; worrying your spirits, and making yourself disagreeable to every body in the room; do you think it would?

LYDIA.

No; I do not know that it would; for I am never happy when I fret and scold, nor when I have vexed you. I will try, Mamma, if you will love me dearly.

Little _Lydia_, as she spoke these last words, threw her arms round her Mamma’s neck; her Mamma gave her a very affectionate kiss, and then said, That I will, my love; and as a mean to assist you in your endeavours, I will, every evening, after you are gone to bed, write a story about you, to tell how you have behaved all day; and the next morning, when we all meet in the parlour, I will read it aloud; and I think you will be much better pleased with the story when you have been a good girl, than when you have been naughty.

LYDIA.

Oh! dear, Mamma! when I have been naughty I shall not like at all to have the story read before every body.

MAMMA.

Then you must take a great deal of care how you behave; you must recollect yourself to-morrow morning when you rise; in the evening I shall begin my story.

CHAPTER THE SECOND.

_THE SUCCESSFUL ENDEAVOUR._

The next morning, Miss _Lydia_, as soon as she waked, recollected the conversation that had passed the day before between her Mamma and her, and determined to be very good all day; accordingly she jumped out of bed as soon as the maid called her, flood very still to be dressed; and when she was dressed, said, Thank you, _Mary_, in a very pretty tone of voice, and then kneeled down and said her prayers in a very decent composed manner; and prayed very heartily that she might be good all day. When she met her papa and mamma, and brothers and sisters in the parlour, after she had bidden them all good morning, she sat herself down very quietly at the bottom of the table, and did not ask for any thing, nor reach across the table to pull the bread and butter about, but sat still and looked very good-humoured, till her Mamma gave her a piece of bread with some very nice honey upon it, and a cup of tea, and then she ate her breakfast very genteely.

After breakfast, Miss _Lydia_ went into her Mamma’s dressing-room, unlocked a little red trunk, which her Mamma had given her a few days before, to keep her work and her books in, and took out the book she read in to her Mamma, which at that time was, _The Footstep to Mrs. Trimmer’s Sacred History_; and sitting down on a little stool at a distance from the fire, began to read very slowly, and in a very easy natural tone of voice; she minded her stops, and paid great attention to the sense, that she might read with propriety.

After she had done reading English, she carried her book away, and put it into the trunk again, and brought her French book, which was the second volume of _La Bagatelle_, and translated her lesson very readily; her next business was to learn the Indicative mood of the verb _Aimer_; this she found rather troublesome, and was once or twice just going to fret and whine; but she recollected that her Mamma was to write an account of her, and therefore she put on a cheerful countenance, and took pains to learn her verb, and said it very perfectly to her Mamma.

After this she took out her work, which was a small cover for a stool she was doing in single cross-stitch, and worked very deligently for an hour; her Mamma then gave her leave to go and play in the garden.

In the garden she played very quietly and prettily, and did not run into any dirt, but amused herself with seeing her brother at work in his garden. She behaved at dinner quite as well as she had done at breakfast; and after dinner, asked her Mamma to give her leave to put the map of _Europe_ together, which was her usual amusement in an afternoon. Just as she had put all the pieces exactly together, and was beginning to tell her Mamma the names of all the capital cities, her little brother came running into the room, full of play, and throwing his hat across the table, entirely disunited all her kingdoms. She was on the point of crying out pretty violently, but the thought of to-morrow’s story came into her mind, and she only took _Edwin_’s hat gently off the table, and said, Pray, brother, do not throw your hat any more: see what mischief you have done! But the little fellow thought there was something very diverting in seeing all the pieces fly about and, therefore as soon as she began to put them in order again, he again skimmed his hat across the table. Three times she attempted to settle the affairs of _Europe_, and as often Master _Edwin_ deranged them. The little girl then, with great good-humour, put the pieces into the box, and said to her Mamma, _Edwin_ is in such a wild humour, that I think I had better put the box away till he is gone. No, my dear, said her Mamma, he shall not tease you any more. I had a mind to give you an opportunity of showing how good you could be; and now he shall not interfere with you again: so calling the little boy, his Mamma told him, if he did not let his sister’s things alone, he must be sent out of the room; she then gave him a box of ivory letters to amuse him.

Miss _Lydia_ continued to behave quite well till she went to bed. Not being in the least troublesome, by making a noise, or worrying for books or play-things which were not at hand; but employing herself with such things as she met with, without being in any body’s way. You may be sure that she went to-bed very happy at night; and that her Papa and Mamma took a very affectionate leave of her.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

_THE RELAPSE._

The following day, at breakfast, Miss _Lydia_ had the pleasure of hearing her Mamma read this account of her very pretty behaviour, and saying, that she had been quite good all day; which of course made her extremely happy. For several days _Lydia_ went on in the same charming manner: never was idle at her tasks, impatient at her meals, nor peevish at her play; and her Mamma began to hope, that she had quite corrected all her faults. Sorry, however, am I to say, that she did not persevere in being so regularly good. After a short time she began to grow a little tired of taking pains with herself. The first time she forgot herself was when she was reading her French lesson. Having finished _La Bagatelle_, her Mamma gave her _Chambaud’s French Fables_, showed her the Dictionary at the end, and instructed her how to find out any word she wanted. This was rather difficult at first, but in a few days would have grown easy to her; however she wanted resolution to take a little pains, and began fretting and grumbling sadly. Her Mamma said, Recollect yourself, _Lydia_; this will not make a pretty story: and, taking the book, would very kindly have assisted her to look for the word _Pierre_; which was what she happened to want; but _Lydia_ turned her head on one side, and made up a sad dismal face. Her Mamma then laid the book on the table, and took no further notice, but went out of the room. She staid some little time, and when she came in again found little _Lydia_ sitting very sorrowfully in the corner of the room. She was ashamed to look at her Mamma or to speak a word; the thoughts of having disgraced herself, after having set out with so much credit, and been so good for almost a week, grieved her very much; and she would have given any thing in the world to have had the last half hour to spend over again.

After a silence of near a quarter of an hour, her Mamma said to her, What are you thinking of _Lydia_?

LYDIA.

I am thinking, Mamma, how foolish I shall look, and how ashamed I shall be to-morrow morning, when you read this naughty story of me.

MAMMA.

Really, my dear, I shall not feel less ashamed nor concerned than you; and I was in great hope, after you had experienced the comfort of being good, that you would not have again relapsed into your old faults.

LYDIA.

I am sure, Mamma, this morning I did not think I should ever have been naughty again. What must I do?

MAMMA.

I hope the feeling so foolish and ashamed as you say you shall do, on hearing this account read, will prevent your behaving so again. Endeavour now to make amends for your fault, by taking great pains with your lesson. There is the book, now find _Pierre_.

_Lydia_ did as she was bidden; and got her lesson very well, and behaved pretty well the rest of the day, though not quite so pleasingly as she had done some days before: for the thought of her misbehaviour had hurt her spirits, and inclined her to be a little fretful and whining.

CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

_THE GENEROUS CONFESSION._

The meeting at breakfast, you may suppose, was not a very pleasant one to Miss _Lydia_. Her Mamma, however, after reading the account of her fault, added, that she had acknowledged herself truly sorry and ashamed of it, and had learned her lesson very diligently; and then embracing her, said, she dared say she should never be obliged to put her to the blush again.

Miss _Lydia_ now began the day with again trying to be very good; but not with half the spirit and cheerfulness that she had done before her fault; and in the course of the three or four next weeks she was very frequently off her guard. However she persevered in striving to be good, and often, when she had begun to speak crossly, or be idle, or argue with her Mamma, she would recollect herself, and stop short at once, and running to her Mamma, say, My dear Mamma do kiss me, and then I will be good. Acting thus, she became less and less apt to offend, and many days passed without one unpleasant story to tell.

It happened, however, one day, when she and her little brother were in the garden, that he took off the bench a nosegay she had just been tying up, with an intention of presenting it to her Mamma. She ran with some eagerness to take it from him; but the little fellow was tenacious of it; upon which she grew angry, and a contest ensued; at last, in a passion, she took hold of the tops of the flowers, and pulled them all to pieces, and threw her brother down by her violence. _Edwin_ began crying; and she, who loved him dearly, forgot all her anger immediately, begged his pardon for having thrown him down, and asked, whether he was hurt? A few kisses and another flower soon made it up with little _Edwin_, and this quarrel passed over without being observed by any body, and had really been forgotten by Miss _Lydia_ till she went to-bed.

_Lydia_, though she was not always free from faults, was a child of remarkable honour; and could not bear the thoughts, in any way, of deceiving any one. She could not, therefore, suffer her Mamma to say she had been good all day, when she felt so conscious of the contrary; and went, as soon as she was dressed, to confess the whole truth. As she passed the window, she saw a lady, for whom she had a particular respect, coming in, and as she well knew, to breakfast with her Mamma. This was a sad mortification to her: however, she went on into her Mamma’s room, and upon being asked, what the dog barked at, told her Mamma, Miss _Hipkins_ was come to breakfast with her. She then stood by the window considering how she should begin to speak to her Mamma. Her affectionate mother, having watched her countenance, said, You look grave and perplexed, _Lydia_; I suppose you are thinking of the journal; but do not be alarmed, my love, I have not one fault to mention, and Miss _Hipkins_ will rejoice to hear you are grown so good a girl. O! Mamma! said the dear girl, I cannot deceive you, nor receive praises I do not deserve. She then told all that passed between her and _Edwin_ in the garden.

I have been very naughty, Mamma, said _Lydia_, and I shall be very much ashamed to hear it told; but I should be still more ashamed to be fondled and commended, while I thought, that if you knew as much of me as I do of myself, you would behave in a very different manner to me. Her Mamma caught her in her arms in a transport of affection, and said, May God for ever bless you, my dear child; and preserve to you that sincerity and singleness of heart which are so precious in his sight! Look up, my love; I shall relate your fault; but the story of your voluntary confession will reflect more honour upon you, than if no fault had been committed: and every thing may be hoped of a young person with so noble a disposition.—Come, let us go down.

A few days after this amiable behaviour of Miss _Lydia_’s, her Mamma received a letter to appoint a day for the arrival of some company, who were to stay a fortnight, and whom Miss _Lydia_ had never seen.

On the evening on which they were to come, Miss _Lydia_ joined her Mamma as she was walking alone in the garden, and, after some hesitation, said, she had a favour to beg of her, which was, that no stories might be read about her while the company staid.

MAMMA.

Why not, my dear?

LYDIA.

If I should happen to be naughty, I shall be so ashamed to hear it told before strangers!

MAMMA.

Then you will have an additional motive to be attentive to your conduct; and surely you would submit to any method that is likely to make you good.

LYDIA.

But to have every body know how naughty one is——

MAMMA.

You seldom do wrong without being observed by somebody, and generally by more persons than you are aware of.—I speak after the common manner of speaking.—But to be more serious, there is a constant witness, _Lydia_—

LYDIA.

I know, Mamma—God always sees me.

MAMMA.

And is He not more to be feared than all the world put together? both because He is more able to punish you, and because, as He is the greatest of beings, it is more disgrace to appear dishonourable in His sight than in that of all the creatures He has made. But that is not all; you seem to dread that “Every body should know how naughty you are.”—Be careful then. There will come a day when all the men that ever were in the world, and all the angels that are in heaven, will be assembled together: and all those who have been wicked will have their sins proclaimed before this assembled multitude, and be disgraced before them all. Beware then, my child, of real offences, and watch now so continually over your behaviour, that, by correcting, while you are so young, all your little faults, you may be happily preserved from falling into such serious ones as will cover you with shame and confusion at that awful day.

Here they were interrupted by the arrival of all the company; but her mother’s words sunk deep into Miss _Lydia_’s mind, and from that time she was doubly careful of all her behaviour. During the whole fortnight that the company staid, she had no cause to regret the journal’s being produced. From that time, it was very seldom that any error of consequence was mentioned in it.

After having gotten the better of some bad habits she had contracted, she daily, by an attention to her Mamma’s advice, improved in every grace and accomplishment. The good-will with which she, applied to her different tasks, occasioned her making a great progress in them: and her constant good-humour and composedness of temper made her look always pretty and engaging. Her Mamma was so charmed with the sweetness of her behaviour, which was free from all noise, rudeness, or turbulence, that she studied every way in her power to indulge and gratify her; and if ever she was refused any thing, she knew it was because it was not fit for her; and, therefore, never asked nor wished about it again.

CHAPTER THE FIFTH.

_BENEVOLENCE ENCOURAGED._

About a month or two after Miss _Lydia_’s Mamma had begun to write an account of her behaviour, the little girl was playing with a few companions at a bench close by the garden-gate. Her Papa had made her a present of a small basket of cherries out of the hot-house, and the little girls were amusing themselves with tying them on sticks, as the fruiterers do when they first bring them to market.

While they were thus employed, a little girl very tidily dressed walked by, leading by the hand her brother, who appeared between two and three years old. The girl’s attention was taken by the sight of the fruit at so early a season, and the little boy, who thought they looked nice, though he did not know what they were, said, Look, _Sally_!—_gapes_! The girl did not speak nor give offence to any body; but one of the Misses, whose pride predominated over her good-nature, asked her, in a haughty tone of voice, What she wanted? and bade her not be so impertinent as to stand staring at them. The little girl moved on directly; but the poor little boy pulled from her, and said, in a crying tone of voice, _Gapes!_ I want _gapes_! This produced a second huffing from the same Miss; who said, Get you gone, you little monkey. His sister then immediately took him away.

Miss _Lydia_, who was much hurt at her friend’s behaviour, said, How could you speak so crossly to the poor little things? why should not they love fruit as well as we; and more too, as it must appear a greater rarity? She then went out at the gate, and stepping after the little children, put into the little boy’s hand a stick of cherries which she had just tied up. There, little boy, said she, these are not grapes; they are cherries: when you have played with them a little while you must give your sister half. Yes; said he, I always give sister half—Look, _Sally_!

But you should say, Thank you, Miss, said _Sally_, making a pretty courtesy; and do not pull them off till you have shown them to my mammy: they are so pretty!