Mrs. _Lovechild_ had one room in her house fitted up with books, suited
to little people of different ages.—She had likewise toys, but they
were such as would improve, as well as amuse her little friends.
The book-room opened into a gallery, which was hung with prints and
pictures, all chosen with a view to children. All designed to teach
little folks while they were young; in order that when they grew up,
they might act worthily.
There were written accounts of each picture, with which her ladyship
would often indulge good children.
Sometimes she walked about herself and explained a few of the pictures
to her little guests.
One day I chanced to be present when she was showing a few of them to
a little visiter; and I think my young reader may like to hear what
passed.
_Mrs. Lovechild._ That is Miss _Goodchild_.—I have read an account of
her, written by her mother.
_Miss._ Pray, madam, what was it?
_Mrs. Lovechild._ It is too long to repeat now, my dear; but I will
tell you a part.—She was never known to disobey her parents; never
heard to contradict her brothers or sisters; nor did she ever refuse to
comply with any request of theirs.—I wish you to read her character,
for she was a pattern of goodness.
_Miss._ Pray, madam, was she pretty?
_Mrs. Lovechild._ She had a healthful color: and her countenance was
sweet, because she was always good-humored.—That smile on her mouth
seems to say—I wish you all happy; but it was not for her beauty, but
her goodness, that she was beloved: and on that account only did I wish
for her picture.
_Miss._ Pray, madam, why is that boy drawn with a frog in his hand?
_Mrs. Lovechild._ In memory of a kind action which he did to a poor
harmless frog.—You shall hear the whole story.—I was taking my morning
walk pretty early one day, and I heard a voice say, “Pray do not kill
it; I will give you this penny, it is all I have, and I shall not mind
going without my breakfast, which I was to have bought with it.”
“You shall not lose your meal!” exclaimed I; “nor you, naughty boys,
the punishment which you deserve for your cruel intention.”
_Miss._ Pray, madam, what was the good boy’s name?
_Mrs. Lovechild._ _Mildmay!_ he was always a friend to the helpless.
_Miss._ How cruel it is in a great boy to be a tyrant!
_Mrs. Lovechild._ Dunces are often cruel.—My young friend redeemed
a linnet’s nest from a stupid school-fellow, by helping him in his
exercise every day for a fortnight, till the little birds were flown.
_Here a servant entered the gallery, and announced company, which put
an end to Mrs. Lovechild’s account of the picture._
[Illustration: Decoration]
[Illustration: Boy on dog]