Poor child, why do you tell a flower the thought that troubles you? have
you no mother?
Why be anxious about the future? have you not GOD to prepare it for you,
as tenderly as eighteen years ago your mother prepared your cradle?
Finally, when the daisy was all but gone, when her fingers stopped at the
last petal, and her lips murmured the word _little_, she dropped her head
upon her arms, discouraged, and, poor child, she wept!
* * * * *
Why weep, my child? is it because this word does not please you?
Let me, let me, in the name of the simple daisy you have just destroyed,
give you the experience of my old age.
Oh! if you only knew what it costs to have _much_ of anything!
_A great deal of wit_ often results in spitefulness which makes us cruel
and unjust, in jealousy that torments, in deception that sullies all our
triumphs, and pride which is never satisfied.
_A great deal of heart_ causes uneasiness which vexes, pain that rends
asunder, grief that nearly kills ... sometimes even the judgment is
deceived.
_A great deal of attractiveness_ means often a consuming vanity,
overwhelming deception, an insatiable desire to please, a fear of being
unappreciated, a loss of peace, domestic life much neglected.
_A great deal of wealth and success_ is the cause of luxury that
enfeebles, loss of calm, quiet happiness, loss of love, leaving only the
flattery that captivates.
No, no, my child, never long for _a great deal_ in this life, unless it be
for much forbearance, much goodness.
And if it should be GOD'S Will to give you _much_ of anything, then, oh,
pray it may never be to your condemnation!
* * * * *
Is _Passionately_ the word you long for? Passionately! oh, the harm that
is done by that word! there is something in the thought of it that makes
me shudder. Passionately means transport, frenzy, excess in everything.
The life that the word _passionately_ describes must be a life full of
risks and dangers; and if, by little short of a miracle, nothing outwardly
wrong appears, the inner life must resemble a palace ravaged by fire,
where the stranger sees nothing but cracked walls, blackened furniture,
and drapery hanging in shreds.
* * * * *
My child, I would prefer for you the words _not at all_, as applied to
fortune, external charms, and all that goes by the name of glory, success,
and fascination in the world. I know it may seem a hard sentence,
involving a continual self-denial, and exacting incessant hard labor to
obtain the bare necessities of life for those we love.
But do not be afraid of it. GOD never leaves His creatures in absolute
need. GOD may deprive a face of beauty, a character of amiability, a mind
of brilliancy, but He will never take away a heart of love; with the
faculty of loving, He adds the power of prayer, and the promise always to
listen to and answer it.
As long as we can love and pray, life has charms for us.
Love produces devotion, and devotion brings happiness, even though we may
not understand it.
In prayer we feel we are beloved; and the love of GOD, oh, if only you
knew how it compensates for the indifference of our fellow-creatures!
* * * * *
There now only remains to us the last words of the daisy, _a little_! the
loving fatherly answer GOD has given to your childish curiosity.
Accept it, and make it the motto of your life!
_A little_; moderation in wealth and fortune, a condition that promises
the most peaceful life, free from anxiety for the future--doubtless
requiring daily duties, but permitting many innocent enjoyments.
_A little_; moderation in our desires, contentment with what we possess,
making the most of it, and repressing all vain dreams of a more brilliant
position, a more extended reputation, a more famous name.
_A little_; the affection of a heart devoted to duty, and kindling joy in
the family circle, composed of kindred to love, friends to cheer, poor to
succor, hearts to strengthen, sufferings to alleviate.
_A little_; a taste for all that is beautiful,--books, works of art, music,
not making us idly dream of fame, but simply providing enjoyment for the
mind, all the more keen, as the daily toil renders the occasions rare.
Do you see, my child, how much may lie beneath those simple words, _a
little_, that the daisy gave you, and that you seem so much to despise!
Never scorn anything that seems wanting in brilliancy, and remember to be
really happy we must have--
More _virtue_ than knowledge,
More _love_ than tenderness,
More _guidance_ than cleverness,
More _health_ than riches,
More _repose_ than profit.