Part 2

Little _Lydia_ felt pleased and very comfortable after she had done this good-natured action; and she could not help being conscious that her Mamma would have approved of her for it; but she knew too well what was right and becoming to tell of it herself, or even to give a hint of it; for though nothing gave her so much pleasure as her mother’s commendations, yet she knew that a good action loses all its beauty when it is done for the sake of any reward whatever. Her behaviour, however, did not pass unobserved, for the maid, who was walking in the garden with a baby in her arms, saw the whole transaction, and was so delighted with it, that when she went to dress her mistress, she told her how sweetly Miss _Lydia_ had behaved. Miss _Lydia_’s Mamma, however, took no notice at all to her of it. Think what was the dear girl’s surprise in the morning, when she heard the whole story read aloud in her Mamma’s journal; and think what pleasure she received from praises so well deserved as those which were bestowed upon her. Her Mamma inquired of her whether she knew the little girl’s name, or where she lived? she answered, No, Mamma: she looked very clean and neat, Mamma; but I observed that she had no tippet, nor any thing to keep her neck from the sun; and the little boy’s toes came through his shoes. If you please, I will give her the garden shawl I have just left off; and I think those red shoes, which are too little for _Edwin_, will fit the little boy. Then you shall have the pleasure of giving those things to them, said her Mamma; you may ask _Mary_ for them, and I have a bit of check by me, which I will cut into an apron, and you shall make it for the little girl; _Mary_ says she is about your height.—_Lydia_ did not forget the permission she had. The shawl and shoes were laid carefully by, and with them a paper of almonds and raisins, which she had bought with her own money.

_Lydia_, with great pleasure, set about the task proposed to her, and worked with great neatness and expedition upon the apron. Miss _Stark_ happening to come in when she was at work, expressed great surprise at her employment, and said, she wondered her Mamma should let her wear the skin off her pretty little fingers with such coarse, nasty work, which was much fitter for the maid than for her; and that she thought it much below her to be making checked aprons for a poor girl.

When Miss _Stark_ was gone, _Lydia_ told her Mamma what she had said to her. I must not, said her Mamma, suffer Miss _Stark_ to visit you, if she puts such notions into your head. Can it possibly be below you to be useful to any person living? Your pretty little fingers, as she calls them, were given you to be of use; and though she employs hers only at the harpsichord, yet I think they should often be exercised in plain and profitable works.

LYDIA.

I like to work sometimes, Mamma.

MAMMA.

It is very proper you should. Never, especially, my dear girl, be above working for the poor, and doing them every service in your power: little girls have seldom much money, their very cloaths are given them; the only thing they have of their own is their time: if they give up some of their play-hours to work for a poor neighbour, they strengthen good dispositions and habits in themselves, and do, perhaps, the only act of charity in their power. You had no apron to give the little girl, so I let you work at this, that you might have the pleasure of making it by that mean your own present; and I hope, that during the whole of your life, you will find it one of your greatest pleasures to do good and kind actions. Miss _Stark_ would, I think, be ashamed of talking so, if she ever read her bible, or considered who has laboured so much for the poor.

LYDIA.

Miss _Stark_’s Mamma gives her a great deal of money, and I believe she often gives some of it away.

MAMMA.

I do not know that she wants good nature; but she puts herself to no inconvenience by giving away money, when she can go and get more of her Mamma the first time she wants a toy; and she would show much more real charity, if she wore less finery, or spent a little less time in diversion, for the sake of being serviceable to the poor sometimes. Charity, my dear, means love to our neighbour; and we are most sure that love is sincere when we part with something we like, or give ourselves some trouble to serve them.

LYDIA.

Then, Mamma, instead of going into the garden this afternoon, I will finish the apron; at present I am very tired, and must go and take a run.

CHAPTER THE SIXTH.

_THE MAY GARLAND._

Though _Lydia_ watched very anxiously, a day or two passed before she saw the little folk again; one day, however, as she was sitting at the window, she saw them coming, she flew down stairs, and, met them just as they were going by the gate; in her haste to catch them she had run down without the presents; she, therefore, desired them to stop a minute, and going up stairs again, soon returned with the shawl, the shoes, the apron, and the almonds and raisins. She made the two children very happy by her gifts, particularly the boy, who said, Thank you, and cried, Shoes! shoes! twenty times over.

_Lydia_ made him sit down on the bench whilst his sister put them on, and observing he had but one shoe-string, ran in to ask for a bit of ribbon. _Mary_ gave her a very nice bit of black ribbon, long enough to tye both shoes, and sent the young folk away much delighted; though the dressing them took up her attention so much, that she forgot to ask their names, or where they lived. Many days had passed, and _Lydia_ had almost forgotten the little girl and boy, when one morning she arose early, very cheerful with the consciousness of having behaved well the preceding day; and as the sun shone, and it was very pleasant, she put on her hat, handkerchief, and gloves, and walked into the garden before breakfast: she had not walked long before she saw something held up at the gate that looked very pretty; she went that way to see what it was, and soon knew the little girl and boy to whom she had been so kind. They held between them a garland made of all sorts of pretty flowers, tied with bits of ribbon; What have you there? said _Lydia_; I never saw such a pretty thing before! It is a present for you, Miss, said _Sally_, if you will please to accept of it: to day is MAY DAY, and my mother and I got up at four o’clock this morning to make the garland. My mother had several good friends who gave her leave to gather flowers in their gardens, and some ladies gave her bits of ribbon; we have taken a great deal of pains to make it, and I hope you will like it.

The delight of _Lydia_ is not to be expressed; she thanked the little girl in a very civil pretty manner, and then ran, half wild with pleasure, into her Mamma’s room, to show her prize. It is very handsome, indeed, my dear, said her Mamma, the child’s mother has shown a very grateful attention. But you should make the little girl some present; for though I dare say that was not her mother’s view in sending the garland, yet it is usual on May Day.—Run down with this shilling.

Away flew little _Lydia_; but she was too late. The children had been strictly charged not to stay at all, for fear it should seem as if they expected any thing; and if any money were offered them, to refuse it very civilly, and say, their mother would be very angry if they took it.

The joy of the garland had still prevented any inquiry about their name or place of abode; but Miss _Lydia_’s Mamma was so pleased with this instance of delicate civility in their mother, that she took pains to learn who she was, and found that her name was _Brush_; that she was a very worthy and industrious woman, who kept a little school, and took in needle-work. Miss _Lydia_, after showing her garland with great delight in the parlour, hung it up in the nursery; and at every interval of leisure, during the day, came to admire it, and to play with it.

In the morning as soon as Miss _Lydia_ arose, she went to look at her garland; but to her great mortification saw that all its beauty was gone; that the tulips hung their heads, that the other flowers were withered, and their colours faded; with some concern she went to her Mamma, to show her the change in her garland. My dear moppet, said she, had you forgotten that flowers would wither? they draw all their nourishment from the earth, and, therefore, when they are separated from it they must die.

LYDIA.

How can the earth nourish them, Mamma?

MAMMA.

My dear, as the food you take nourishes you, so the plant draws the moisture out of the earth, and that moisture runs through all the parts of it, and supports it; and according to the different channels it runs through, takes all kinds of beautiful colours, or sometimes only a fine green; and in some flowers takes no colour at all, but leaves the plant a pure white. The earth is called the parent of plants and vegetables; and it supports them as a mother does her child: if the flower be taken out of the ground, it withers as these have done; and what would little _Joseph_ or even you do, _Lydia_, if you were taken from me?

LYDIA.

You told me once that God took care of me.

MAMMA.

Certainly; and without the help of God neither could the earth nourish its plants, nor the mother protect her child; but in general, he is pleased to convey support and blessings to the child, through the means of the parents; and as they delight in being made the instruments of his goodness to their child, it ought to inspire the child with tender affection and gratitude towards them, and incline it to obey the commands of God:

“Honour thy father and thy mother.”

LYDIA.

I am sure, Mamma, I love you; and you are very good to me.

MAMMA.

And I have the pleasure of telling you, you were very good yesterday; for when I called you to your lesson, though you were deeply engaged in examining your garland, you asked _Mary_ to hang it up, and came directly. I design, as a reward, to take you, after business is done, to see Mrs. _Brush_ and her young family; and, if you can find any little books to carry, I dare say they will be a very welcome present. I shall take some of the _Short Lectures for the use of Sunday schools_, and the _Catechism divided into sentences_.

This promise gave much delight to Miss _Lydia_, and encouraged her to get her lessons with great diligence.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

_THE SCHOOL ROOM._

The morning business being finished, Miss _Lydia_ and her Mamma set out, accompanied by little _Edwin_. They found the good woman in an exceedingly neat, comfortable room, surrounded by a number of little forms, on which sat about twenty very orderly children, among whom were her own little boy and girl. The little girl was marking a sampler, and the little boy looking at the alphabet in a spelling-book. At the sight of the lady and her children, they all rose up, and Mrs. _Brush_ would have sent them away, as school was almost done; but Miss _Lydia_ and her Mamma both begged they might sit down again. They looked at their works, examined their books, and Miss _Lydia_’s Mamma asked Mrs. _Brush_ many questions about her own children, and her scholars, while the little girl was very busy looking over _Sally_, and seeing her make words upon her sampler. _Edwin_ employed himself in admiring a parrot which hung in the corner of the room, and which repeated b, a, ba, c, a, ca, d, a, da, and so on, as he had learnt by hearing the children; and was indeed an apter scholar than some of them. Upon a hint from her Mamma, Miss _Lydia_ presented to Mrs. _Brush_ the books she had brought, which were _The good Child’s Delight_, _Short Conversations_, and _Familiar Dialogues_, together with the books before-mentioned, which her Mamma had brought.

For the little girl Miss _Lydia_ reserved _First Principles of Religion_, a book which her Mamma esteemed very highly indeed, and preferred to any other book of the kind, but which she did not put into her hands till she had altered some few passages; which, though written with the best intention in the world, appeared to her to speak of the Deity in words too free to be put even into the mouth of an ignorant child. _Lydia_ had not forgotten the little boy, to whom she gave the _Universal Shuttlecock_. You may be sure these presents were received with many thanks; and Mrs. _Brush_ afterwards asked her visiters to walk in her garden, showed them a nice brood of chickens, and gave Miss _Lydia_ some cabbage to feed two rabbits that were in a hutch: she then took them to her bee-hives, where the little bees were all in a cluster at the door, or buzzing about and sipping sweetness out of the flowers, to make honey for their winter provision.

I have heard my sister, said _Lydia_, repeat some verses about killing the poor bees and taking their honey.

I do not kill them Miss, said Mrs. _Brush_, I have been taught to use some fumes which will stupify them for a time, and then I take their honey, only leaving them a little to live upon, and they soon revive; and if, in the winter, when there are no flowers, I cannot spare them honey enough, I feed them with sugar and water. The greatest part of my honey I have sold; but when we go in, if you please, you shall taste the remainder.

The young people were permitted to take a little of the offered honey, which was nicely spread on a thin bit of home-baked bread. The lady made a present of some money to the good woman, and they then took their leave of Mrs. _Brush_ and the children.

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH.

_THE LITTLE LAMB._

About a week after the visit to the school, _Lydia_, from her window, saw _Sally_ lugging something under her arm, which seemed more than she could manage, when the little girl came to the gate, she stopped and looked in, but modesty prevented her from ringing. Miss _Lydia_, went down to see what she wanted: but how surprised was she to see that _Sally_’s load was a little lamb, not many days old. It had been given to _Sally_ by a farmer, whose little boy and girl went to school to her mother, because the dam was dead; and she had adorned its neck with a wreath of field flowers, and brought it as a present to Miss _Lydia_; accordingly when _Lydia_ came to the gate, she, in a very pretty manner, begged her acceptance of it, and told her it must be fed two or three times a-day with warm milk. Nobody can express the delight of Miss _Lydia_, upon finding herself mistress of the lamb. Her joy, however, did not make her forget to thank _Sally_ with great good-nature and civility for the gift; nor did it prevent her recollecting that her mother had thought it proper to offer her a present for the May garland, she, therefore, begged her to stay till she showed the lamb to her Mamma; and taking it up, tottered into the house; she soon returned with half a crown, which, she took great pains to persuade _Sally_ to accept, but to no purpose: she said, her mother would be very angry with her if she took any thing; that the lamb had cost her nothing, and she had been strictly charged to take nothing for it.

Then, said Miss _Lydia_, at least let me give you some fruit and some cake; and taking the little girl by the hand, seated her upon a bench, and ran to fetch her a piece of cake; then, with her Mamma’s leave she gathered for her some strawberries and cherries. _Sally_ thanked her very prettily, and begged leave to carry them home to divide with her brother; thus having given the little lamb a kiss, and again told Miss _Lydia_ it must be fed with warm milk, and be taken into the house at night, she went away.

You may believe that the greatest part of _Lydia_’s employment was to feed and tend the little lamb, whose baaing would indeed have excited tenderness even in a heart of less sensibility than _Lydia_’s.

The pleasure she had in the lamb, naturally led her to think and talk of the little giver. _Lydia_ observed to her Mamma, that although _Sally_ was a poor girl, and had never gone into company, yet she always behaved in a very pretty manner, and spoke gently and civilly, and made charming courtesies.

My dear, said her mamma, when people have a modest opinion of themselves, and wish to behave with respect and civility, they seldom do any thing that is improper.

A fear of offending will make them gentle and reserved in their behaviour; and a person who tries to speak in an obliging manner is not often at a loss for language. It is conceit and forwardness which make people disgusting; and conceit and forwardness are as disagreeable in a little girl or boy, if their parents are rich as if they were poor. Nothing can make children agreeable, but being humble and tractable, and behaving in an obliging, respectful manner to every body; for as children, whoever their parents be, can know very little, and are unable to say any thing worth hearing, they should, therefore, think every body of more consequence than themselves, and be very much obliged to any body who takes notice of them. I am sure, said _Lydia_, I think myself so. You always appear to think so, my dear, said her Mamma; our friends are very kind to you, and will continue so while you behave as properly as you do; but whenever children begin to argue with grown people, speak pertly to them, like Miss _Smart_, or pretend to know better than they do, what is right and proper, they become very ridiculous and very disagreeable. What pleases you in _Sally_, and what will equally please in yourself is, that she seems to have no wish nor will but to oblige you, and to do what she thinks may please you, and show her respect to you.

CHAPTER THE NINTH.

_THE WORK BAGS._

During the course of the summer, Miss _Lydia_’s aunt found it necessary to take a long journey, and desired the favour to leave her little daughter in her sister’s family during her absence, as it was not convenient to take her. This little girl, whose name was _Fanny_, was about _Lydia_’s age; and, therefore, though Miss _Lydia_’s elder sisters were very obliging and good-natured to her, yet she was her chief companion, and was very much delighted with her society. One day, a lady, who was very intimate in the family, came to make a visit, and brought a present to each of the little girls of a silk work-bag trimmed with broad lace. In the bag were a needle book furnished with thread and needles, a silver thimble, a pair of scissors with silver tops in a nice red sheath; and beside, a piece of drawn lawn neatly tacked upon a bit of oil-skin, and just begun for them, that they might each work for herself a tucker.

Miss _Fanny_ though very good-natured, was exceedingly giddy and careless, leaving her dolls, books, and every thing she had, scattered all over the house; the consequence of which was, that they were frequently lost or spoiled. This lady, therefore, knowing her failing, gave her a particular caution to take care of her work-bag; and desired, when the young ladies came to see her, they would each bring their bag with them.

For some little time _Fanny_ continued very mindful of the advice which had been given her. One day they had been working in a little summer-house in the garden, and Miss _Fanny_ had been particularly guarded, by one of the elder young ladies, against leaving her work-bag, when she came in.

Miss _Lydia_, when she had done work, collected all her things into her bag, and hung it upon her arm, _Fanny_ did the same, and they both came down out of the summer-house; but _Fanny_ said, she must gather a nosegay before she came in, out of a little garden that had been given her, and away she ran to the place; but finding the work-bag inconvenient upon her arm when she stooped to gather flowers, she laid it down on a clean grass plot. The nosegay being made, she was preparing to go in, when she saw _Lydia_’s little lamb, who was in the adjoining field, put his nose over the pales very near her; she ran to him, stroked his head, fetched him some cabbage to eat out of her hand, and played with him, till recollecting she should scarce have time to be dressed before dinner, she ran in, in great haste, leaving the work-bag upon the grass. _Fanny_ did not once think of her work-bag till she was going to sit down to work after dinner; she then recollected that she had left it upon the grass, and ran in great haste to fetch it; but when she came she found all her things in a very dismal condition; the work-bag was torn to pieces, and all wet and dirty; the needle book and work were tossed out, and entirely spoiled; the thimble had rolled quite away; in short nothing had escaped but the scissors, and, as for the sheath that was bent, and the colour quite changed. Any of you who ever have had a present you were pleased with, and seen it destroyed by your own carelessness, will be able to judge what this little girl felt, when she cast her eyes upon all this mischief. She stood at first quite stupified, then began to examine the things one by one, and when she found them entirely spoiled, she could not refrain from tears and lamentation. The gardener, hearing her cry, came from the other end of the garden, to know what was the matter? she told him her misfortunes, and asked, who could have put her things into that state? The gardener said, it was a great pity, but he did not doubt but it was the puppy, for he had just before seen him running about the garden, and had turned him out.

Poor _Fanny_ could do nothing but pick up the tattered bits, and carry them sorrowfully into the house; even those who blamed her negligence could not help pitying her; and she found Miss _Lydia_, in particular, ready to cry with her, and to share in her trouble.

The next morning, as _Lydia_ and her little friend were talking over this accident, _Fanny_ said, her greatest concern was, that Mrs. _Grant_ would know she had taken so little care of her present; and that she could not bear the thought of seeing her; but, says she, one of the maids told me, she had got a piece of blue silk just the colour of mine, and she had a cousin who was a miliner, and would give her a bit of blond lace and ribbon, and she would make me a bag and needle-book, just like the others; and that I might buy a sheath with my own money; and if we could but find the thimble, Mrs. _Grant_ need never know it; for, as your Mamma was out all day yesterday, and does not come home till to-morrow, she need know nothing of the matter; and who else will tell? It may be very good-natured in _Sarah_, said Miss _Lydia_; but I hope, my dear _Fanny_, you are too good to do such a mean, deceitful trick; if, you say, you could not bear to see Mrs. _Grant_ now, I think it must distress you a great deal more to see her when you knew you were trying to deceive her; and how dreadful it would be to hear her commend you for taking such care of your bag, when you were conscious how you have behaved. I am sure, if no creature were to find me out, I should be very miserable; and if you should be found out, what would become of you then?

You are a great deal better than I am, said _Fanny_; and now I consider about it, I dare say my Mamma would be very sorry I should do so; and so I must tell Mrs. _Grant_ the whole truth, I think—but I shall look so foolish!

CHAPTER THE TENTH.

_THE VISIT._

Sometime after the loss of the work-bag, the family received an invitation to dine at Mrs. _Grant_’s. On the day they were to go, Miss _Lydia_ took an opportunity of seeing her Mamma alone, and asking her advice. I do not like, Mamma, said she, to take my work-bag with me, because I think it will mortify poor _Fanny_ so, and look as if I wanted to show I was more careful than she; and yet I am afraid of appearing uncivil to Mrs. _Grant_, who desired me to bring it.