Near to Jenny Bunney lived Nancy Thoughtless. She too, sometimes, had
halfpence given her; but they soon went at the apple-woman’s in cakes,
gingerbread, nuts, &c. Sometimes she would save several in her little
box; but she did not think of laying them out in any thing useful,
and they soon followed the rest. One very sharp winter, in which they
found it hard work to get victuals, her father had a very long illness:
this was a great trial; however, the poor woman, his wife, kept up her
spirits pretty well. All worked who were able, and they just managed
to live, every day hoping the father would get better. One day, said
her mother to Nancy, my dear, I wish I had a little wine to give your
father, he is very weak, and I think it might do him good; but it is
dear, and I have no money to buy any with. You know that I never go,
nor send you a begging, for it is generally the idle and wasteful who
beg; and, as I am not one of them, I do not choose to follow their
example. I think I have seen you take the halfpence which were given
you to your little box. Perhaps you have as much as six-pence, this
would buy a little wine for your poor father; and, I dare say, you
will be glad to put it to such a use. Money, my dear child, is of no
more value than stones or dirt, any further than as it is useful; and,
it is every body’s duty to make the best use he can of all he has. I
dare say you feel that you can do nothing better with yours, than buy
your father a little wine. I need say no more, you will run up stairs
and fetch it. Nancy hung down her head, and did not stir. Her mother
waited: at last she burst out a crying, O, mother, said she, I have no
six-pence, I have not even a half-penny. How have you laid it out,
said her mother? O I have wasted it all in gingerbread and nuts, and
now I have none to buy my poor father a drop of wine with. What shall
I do! What shall I do! Her mother told her, as crying could not bring
back her money, she had better give over. I am very sorry, said she,
you have lost all the pleasure you would now have had in doing good
to your father, and helping the family; but, perhaps, you like the
remembrance of your nuts and your gingerbread better. O, mother, do
not say so; I would rather have never tasted them if I could but now
buy the wine. My dear, said she, I hope you will be wiser then for
the future, and always remember, that those things which please the
longest, are the best.
She, who in trifles, spends her gain,
Will lose all lasting pleasure;
And when she would do good, in vain
Laments her wasted treasure.