Chapter 3

Mary grew up in this way, and as she did not improve herself by useful occupation, she found other employments which did her no good. She read every foolish and extravagant story and novel which give false ideas of life, and which poison the mind by unreasonable views of love and of married life. She now thought that she was becoming very accomplished, but no young man who knew her history desired to unite himself with such a partner. At last, however, a stranger who entirely misapprehended her character offered her his hand, and she professed to love him very much. But her professions were all frothy and vain; for she had read so many extravagant fictions, and knew so little of real life, that she did not know her own mind, and supposed that she was very much in love, when she did not even know how to form a serious attachment. The man whom she married was very respectable and well disposed, and if he had married a smart and industrious woman would have succeeded well in the world. But Mary had never been either smart or industrious, and she seemed to suppose that now she was married there was no necessity for doing anything. When her husband complained that it was hard to live, she only smiled, and said that she knew if she were a man she could get along well enough, and that every man ought to expect, as a matter of course, to support his family. Such talk as this did not comfort him, as he was daily laboring very hard to maintain his family, for his wife had one daughter, and he thought that his companion ought to take an interest in his misfortunes. But she had no regard for the cares and troubles of her husband. She thought that it was bad enough for her to be debarred from riding in a coach, and putting on rich clothing, and she often complained that she could not lead the life of a lady. As their family increased, her husband found that she possessed no tact at all. He would have hired a housekeeper had he been able, in order that his wife might lounge about and read novels all day: he would also have employed some person to dress her, as her clothing was always put on in so negligent a manner that he was ashamed to invite a friend to his house. But Mary imagined that she had a very hard time, because she could not be a lady, and she associated with some idle, gossipping women, who encouraged her to find fault with her husband, because he could not put her into a palace. Her husband never could have his meals ready betimes, and when he went home to his dinner, the breakfast dishes were found still unwashed upon the table. Mary's children were pretty and healthy, but having been always allowed to go dirty and ragged, they were treated with contempt by all decent children. These things wore upon her husband's mind more and more, until he left his family in despair, and never returned to them again. Mary is now in the poor house; for, being too idle to work, and never having learned how to support herself, it could not be expected that she should provide honestly for her family. Nobody pities her, and there are many who ask her how she likes being a lady, and who joke her about riding in her coach. Such is the fatal effect of forming idle habits early in life.

ENVY.

I once knew two little girls who attended the same school and occupied the same bench, yet who were entirely unlike each other in disposition, so that while Martha was beloved by all who knew her, Mary was as generally disliked. Martha was gentle, kind and affectionate; but Mary was of a very different spirit Her chief fault was _envy_, and so much did she indulge this base passion that she was unhappy whenever she heard one of her little school-mates praised. She was very unkind to Martha, for she envied her the ease with which her lessons were committed to memory, and more than all else she envied her the love of her kind teacher. Therefore she wished to injure Martha, and to take away that love.

One day Mary, being, according to her usual custom, idle, amused herself with tearing and defacing her books. After spending some time in this manner, she took them to her teacher, and with many loud complaints, told her that Martha had thus injured them. She hoped that Martha would have been punished, and that her school-mates would not love her so well, but would believe that she had done so wrong an action.

But it was not so. The teacher did not believe Mary's complaint, and when Martha said she was innocent, she knew that it was so, for truth was in her heart. Then one of the little girls said that she had seen Mary herself injuring the books, and the wicked child was defeated in the plan that she had formed.

After this, none of the children would talk or play with Mary, and she soon left the school. None regretted her absence, for all said, "What a pity that so sweet a name should be accompanied by so ungentle a spirit."

Now this little girl had many faults, but I think that the one wherein she most erred was envy. We have seen how this fault led her to commit many sins. It led her to unkindness, falsehood, and disgrace. And however trivial the circumstance I have related may appear, yet it early stamped upon my mind a lesson which after years have not effaced. May it bear to some young hearts the same lesson--_beware of envy_.

CONCLUSION.

And now, my dear readers, we have come to the last page in this little volume; and that its precepts may abide in all your hearts, is the sincere desire of your friend,

UNCLE HUMPHREY.