Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
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!
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.
_Lydia_ received her Mamma’s tenderest caresses, and commendations,
for her sentiment and generosity; you judge with great propriety and
delicacy, my dear, as to not taking the work-bag; and Mrs. _Grant_, who
must know the history of poor _Fanny_’s, will easily guess your reason
for leaving yours at home, and will honour you for it; and _Fanny_, when
she knows how kind and considerate you are, must love you dearly. The
coach was soon after at the door, and Miss _Lydia_, her Mamma, one of her
sisters, and _Fanny_ got in.
Poor _Fanny_ was that day an instance how one giddy or thoughtless thing
may entirely destroy a person’s pleasure. She had been expecting the day
they were to go to Mrs. _Grant_’s with great impatience and delight;
but her unfortunate carelessness had so altered her feelings, that she
dreaded the thought of going, and would very gladly have been left
behind. She was very grave all the way, though _Lydia_ tried all she
could to amuse her, by pointing out to her the flowers in the hedges,
the birds in the trees, and the carriages as they passed, Mrs. _Grant_
was very happy to see them all, and especially the two young ones.
She observed them, however, a little, to see if they had brought their
work-bags.
The young ladies, as they were seating themselves, observed upon a table,
at the farther end of the room, two very little cradles with dolls in
them; they thought it probable they were intended as a present for them;
and this thought increased poor Miss _Fanny_’s distress and confusion: to
receive another present when she had been so careless of the former, hurt
every generous principle within her; after some little time, Mrs. _Grant_
asked Miss _Lydia_ if she had done her tucker? _Lydia_ answered very
modestly and prettily, Yes, Madam.