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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36507-0.txt b/36507-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b1333c --- /dev/null +++ b/36507-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3542 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mary Wollstonecraft's Original Stories, by +Mary Wollstonecraft, Edited by E. V. Lucas, Illustrated by William Blake + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mary Wollstonecraft's Original Stories + + +Author: Mary Wollstonecraft + +Editor: E. V. Lucas + +Release Date: June 24, 2011 [eBook #36507] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT'S ORIGINAL +STORIES*** + + +This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler. + +[Picture: Look what a fine morning it is . . . Insects, Birds, & Animals, + are all enjoying existence] + + + + + + MARY + WOLLSTONECRAFT’S + ORIGINAL + STORIES + + + WITH FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS + BY + WILLIAM BLAKE + + * * * * * + + WITH AN INTRODUCTION + BY + E. V. LUCAS + + * * * * * + + LONDON + HENRY FROWDE + 1906 + + * * * * * + + OXFORD: HORACE HART + PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY + + + + +EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION + + +The germ of the _Original Stories_ was, I imagine, a suggestion (in the +manner of publishers) from Mary Wollstonecraft’s employer, Johnson of St. +Paul’s Churchyard, that something more or less in the manner of Mrs. +Trimmer’s _History of the Robins_, the great nursery success of 1786, +might be a profitable speculation. For I doubt if the production of a +book for children would ever have occurred spontaneously to an author so +much more interested in the status of women and other adult matters. +However, the idea being given her, she quickly wrote the book—in 1787 or +1788—carrying out in it to a far higher power, in Mrs. Mason, the +self-confidence and rectitude of Mrs. Trimmer’s leading lady, Mrs. +Benson, who in her turn had been preceded by that other flawless +instructor of youth, Mr. Barlow. None of these exemplars could do wrong; +but the Mrs. Mason whom we meet in the following pages far transcends the +others in conscious merit. Mrs. Benson in the _History of the Robins_ +(with the author of which Mary Wollstonecraft was on friendly terms) was +sufficiently like the Protagonist of the Old Testament to be, when among +Mrs. Wilson’s bees, ‘excessively pleased with the ingenuity and industry +with which these insects collect their honey and wax, form their cells, +and deposit their store’; but Mrs. Mason, as we shall see, went still +farther. + +It has to be remembered that the _Original Stories_ were written when the +author was twenty-nine, five years before she met Gilbert Imlay and six +years before her daughter Fanny Imlay was born. I mention this fact +because it seems to me to be very significant. I feel that had the book +been written after Fanny’s birth, or even after the Imlay infatuation, it +would have been somewhat different: not perhaps more entertaining, +because its author had none of that imaginative sympathy with the young +which would direct her pen in the direction of pure pleasure for them; +but more human, more kindly, better. One can have indeed little doubt as +to this after reading those curious first lessons for an infant which +came from Mary Wollstonecraft’s pen in or about 1795, (printed in volume +two of the _Posthumous Works_, 1798), and which give evidence of so much +more tenderness and reasonableness (and at the same time want of Reason, +which may have been Godwin’s God but will never stand in that relation +either to English men or English children) than the monitress of the +_Original Stories_, the impeccable Mrs. Mason, ever suggests. I know of +no early instance where a mother talks down to an infant more prettily: +continually descending herself to its level, yet never with any of Mrs. +Mason’s arrogance and superiority. Not indeed that this poor mother, +with her impulsive warm heart wounded, and most of her illusions gone, +and few kindly eyes resting upon her, could ever have compassed much of +Mrs. Mason’s prosperous self-satisfaction and authority had she wished +to; for in the seven years between the composition of the _Original +Stories_ and the lessons for the minute Fanny Imlay, she had lived an +emotional lifetime, and suffering much, pitied much. + +In Lesson X, which I quote, although it says nothing of charity or +kindness, a vastly more human spirit is found than in any of Mrs. Mason’s +homilies on our duty to the afflicted:— + + See how much taller you are than William. In four years you have + learned to eat, to walk, to talk. Why do you smile? You can do much + more, you think: you can wash your hands and face. Very well. I + should never kiss a dirty face. And you can comb your head with the + pretty comb you always put by in your own drawer. To be sure, you do + all this to be ready to take a walk with me. You would be obliged to + stay at home, if you could not comb your own hair. Betty is busy + getting the dinner ready, and only brushes William’s hair, because he + cannot do it for himself. + + Betty is making an apple-pye. You love an apple-pye; but I do not + bid you make one. Your hands are not strong enough to mix the butter + and flour together; and you must not try to pare the apples, because + you cannot manage a great knife. + + Never touch the large knives: they are very sharp, and you might cut + your finger to the bone. You are a little girl, and ought to have a + little knife. When you are as tall as I am, you shall have a knife + as large as mine; and when you are as strong as I am, and have + learned to manage it, you will not hurt yourself. + + You can trundle a hoop, you say; and jump over a stick. O, I + forgot!—and march like men in the red coats, when papa plays a pretty + tune on the fiddle. + +Even a very little of the tender spirit that this lesson breathes, even a +very little of its sense of play, would have leavened the _Original +Stories_ into a more wholesome consistency. As it stands, that book is +one of the most perfect examples of the success with which, a century or +more ago, any ingratiating quality could be kept out of a work for the +young. According to William Godwin, his unhappy wife had always a pretty +and endearing way with children. Yet of pretty and endearing ways, as of +humour, I take him to have been a bad judge; for I do not think that any +woman possessing enough sympathy to attach children to her as he, in one +of the most curious biographies in the language, assures us that she had, +could have suppressed the gift so completely in her first book for young +minds. And the Mrs. Masonic character of her own Preface supports my +view. + +I do not wish to suggest that previous to 1787 Mary Wollstonecraft had +been a stranger to suffering. Far from it. Her life had known little +joy. Her father’s excesses, her mother’s grief and poverty, her sister’s +misfortunes, her own homelessness, and, to crown all, the death of her +close friend Frances Blood, must have dimmed if not obliterated most of +her happy impulses. But it is one thing to suffer bereavement and to be +anxious about the troubles of others near and dear; and it is quite +another to suffer oneself by loving, even to a point of personal +disaster, and then losing both that love and the friendliness (such as it +was) of the world. Imlay’s desertion and the birth of Fanny were real +things beside which a drunken father, unhappy sisters, and a dead friend +were mere trifles. + +This little book is to my mind chiefly interesting for two reasons apart +from its original purpose—for the light it throws on the attitude of the +nursery authors of that day towards children, and for the character of +Mrs. Mason, a type of the dominant British character, in petticoats, here +for the first time (so far as my reading goes) set on paper. + +I have no information regarding the success of the _Original Stories_ in +their day, and such spirited efforts as are now made to obtain them by +collectors are, we know, due rather to Blake than to Mary Wollstonecraft; +but any measure of popularity that they may have enjoyed illustrates the +awful state of slavery in which the children of the seventeen-nineties +must have subsisted. It is indeed wonderful to me to think that only a +poor hundred years ago such hard and arid presentations of adult +perfection and infantile incapacity should have been considered, even by +capable writers, all that the intelligence of children needed or their +tender inexperience deserved. I do not deny that children are not to-day +too much considered: indeed, I think that they are: I think there is now +an unfortunate tendency to provide them with literature in such variety +as to anticipate, and possibly supplant, the most valuable natural +workings of their minds in almost every direction; but such activity at +any rate indicates a desire on the part of the writers of these books to +understand their readers, whereas I can detect none in the _Original +Stories_ or in hundreds of kindred works of that day. _Sandford and +Merton_ and Mrs. Trimmer’s book stand apart: there is much humanity and +imaginative sympathy in both; but with the majority of nursery authors, +to fling down a collection of homilies was sufficient. + +The odd thing is that every one was equally thoughtless: it is not merely +that Mary Wollstonecraft should consider such an intellectual stone as +Chapter XV worth preparing for poor little fellow creatures that needed +bread; but that her publisher Johnson should consider it the kind of +thing to send forth, and that, with artists capable of dramatic interest +available, he should hand the commission to illustrate it to William +Blake, who, exquisitely charming as were his drawings for his own +_Songs_, was as yet in no sense of the word an ingratiating illustrator +of narratives of real life for young eyes. And there still remains the +parent or friend who, picking up the book in a shop, considered it the +kind of thing to strike a bliss into the soul of Master Henry or Miss +Susan as a birthday present. It is all, at this date, so incredible, so +shortsighted, so cruel, one could almost say. No one seems to have tried +at all: the idea of wooing a child was not in the air—certainly Mary +Wollstonecraft had none of it. + +Who it was that first discerned the child to be a thing of joy, a +character apart worth coming to without patronage, a flower, a fairy, I +cannot say. But Blake, in his writings, had much to do with the +discovery, and Wordsworth perhaps more. Certain, however, is it that +Mary Wollstonecraft, even if she had glimmerings of this truth, had no +more; and those she suppressed when the pen was in her hand. + +I might remark here that the circumstance that Blake’s drawings for +Salzmann’s _Elements of Morality_, which Mary Wollstonecraft translated +in 1791, also for Johnson, are more interesting and dramatic, is due to +the fact that he merely adapted the work of the German artist. Blake was +uniformly below himself in this kind of employment. Only in the rapt +freedoms of the angelic harper in his hut, in the picture opposite page +56 of the present work, does he approach his true genius; while in his +conception of Mrs. Mason I have no confidence. Not slim and willowy and +pensive was she in my mental picture of her: I figure a matron of sterner +stuff and solider build. + +But having said this against the _Original Stories_, I have said all, for +as the casket enshrining Mrs. Mason its value remains unassailable. + +It was well for Mrs. Mason that Mary Wollstonecraft set her on paper in +1788. Had she waited until the _Vindication of the Rights of Women_ was +written in 1792 (and dedicated to Talleyrand), had she waited until +little Fanny Imlay was born into a stony world, Mrs. Mason would never +have been. Because it is the likes of Mrs. Mason that keep the rights of +women, as Mary Wollstonecraft saw them, in the background, and demand the +production of marriage lines. Mrs. Mason would have been the first to +regret the unwomanliness of the publication both of the book and of the +baby. The Preface to this book suggests that Mary Wollstonecraft was at +that time, before she had loved and lost and suffered, something of a +Mrs. Mason herself; but Mrs. Mason remained Masonic to the end, whereas +poor Mary’s heart and mind were always in conflict. She may have loved +pure Reason, but she loved Gilbert Imlay too. And this Mrs. Mason never +did. + +Mrs. Mason never nods. Her tact, her mental reaction, her confidence, +her sense of duty and knowledge of duty, are alike marvellous. When the +higher mercy compels her to end a wounded lark’s misery by putting her +foot on its head, she ‘turns her own the other way’. At the close of a +walk during which her charges have been ‘rational’, she shakes hands with +them. Her highest praise to Mary, after the fruit-picking incident on +page 40, is to call her ‘my friend’; ‘and she deserved the name,’ adds +the lady, ‘for she was no longer a child.’ No child could be her friend. +One wonders what she made of the beautiful words ‘Suffer the little +children to come unto Me . . . for of such is the kingdom of Heaven’; but +of course she did not know them: her Testament was obviously the Old. + +Yet we have, as it happens, a comment on Christ’s remark, in her +statement on page 8, made in one of her recurring monologues on +superiority and inferiority, that it is ‘only to animals that children +_can_ do good’. Mrs. Mason’s expression of alarm and dismay on hearing +the words ‘A little child shall lead them’ could be drawn adequately, one +feels, only by Mary Wollstonecraft’s friend Fuseli. + +‘I govern my servants and you,’ said Mrs. Mason, ‘by attending strictly +to truth, and this observance keeping my head clear and my heart pure, I +am ever ready to pray to the Author of Good, the Fountain of truth.’ She +never paid unmeaning compliments, (and here it is interesting to compare +the second paragraph of Mary Wollstonecraft’s Preface, where she plays at +being a Mrs. Mason too), or permitted any word to drop from her tongue +that her heart did not dictate. Hence she allowed Mrs. Trimmer’s +_History of the Robins_ to be lent to a little girl, only on condition +that the little girl should be made to understand that birds cannot +really talk. She had in her garden, although large, only one bed of +tulips, because the tulip flaunts, whereas the rose, of which she had a +profusion, is modest. That God made both does not seem to have troubled +her. She thought that the poor who were willing to work ‘had a right to +the comforts of life’. During a thunderstorm she walked with the same +security as when the sun enlivened the prospect, since her love of virtue +had overcome her fear of death. She was weaned from the world, ‘but not +disgusted.’ When she visited those who have been reduced from their +original place in society by misfortunes, she made such alterations in +her dress as would suggest ceremony, lest too much familiarity should +appear like disrespect. She forbade Caroline to cry when in pain, +because the Most High was educating her for eternity. She thought that +all diseases were sent to children by the Almighty to teach them patience +and fortitude. She never sought bargains, wishing every one to receive +the just value for their goods; and when her two charges at last left +her, to return to their father, she dismissed them with the words, ‘You +are now candidates for my friendship, and on your advancement in virtue +my regard will in future depend.’ + +The great fault of Mrs. Mason is that she had none. One seems to +understand why her own children and husband died so quickly. + +Since I have read this little book a new kind of nightmare has come into +my slumbers: I dream that I am walking with Mrs. Mason. The greatness +and goodness of Mrs. Mason surround me, dominate me, suffocate me. With +head erect, vigilant eye, and a smile of assurance and tolerance on her +massive features, she sails on and on, holding my neatly-gloved hand, +discoursing ever of the infinite mercy of God, the infinite paltriness of +myself, and the infinite success of Mrs. Mason. I think that Mrs. +Mason’s most terrible characteristic to me (who have never been quite +sure of anything) is the readiness with which her decisions spring +fully-armed from her brain. She knows not only everything, but herself +too: she has no doubts. Here she joins hands with so much that is most +triumphant in the British character. The Briton also is without doubts. +He marches forward. He is right. It is when I contemplate him in this +mood—and Mrs. Mason too—that I most wonder who my ancestors can have +been. + +The awful reality of Mrs. Mason proves that Mary Wollstonecraft, had she +known her own power and kept her mental serenity, might have been a great +novelist. Mrs. Mason was the first and strongest British Matron. She +came before Mrs. Proudie, and also, it is interesting to note, before Sir +Willoughby Patterne. But she was, I fear, an accident; for there is +nothing like her in our author’s one experiment in adult fiction, _The +Wrongs of Woman_. + + E. V. LUCAS. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +Look what a fine morning it is.—Insects, Birds, _Frontispiece_ +and Animals, are all enjoying existence. +Indeed we are very happy! _to face page_ 36 +Be calm, my child, remember that you must do all _to face page_ 46 +the good you can the present day +Trying to trace the sound, I discovered a little _to face page_ 56 +hut, rudely built +Economy and Self-denial are necessary, in every _to face page_ 86 +station, to enable us to be generous + + + + [Picture: Facsimile of the title page of the 1791 edition] + + + + +PREFACE + + +These conversations and tales are accommodated to the present state of +society; which obliges the author to attempt to cure those faults by +reason, which might never to have taken root in the infant mind. Good +habits, imperceptibly fixed, are far preferable to the precepts of +reason; but, as this task requires more judgment than generally falls to +the lot of parents, substitutes must be sought for, and medicines given, +when regimen would have answered the purpose much better. I believe +those who examine their own minds, will readily agree with me, that +reason, with difficulty, conquers settled habits, even when it is arrived +at some degree of maturity: why then do we suffer children to be bound +with fetters, which their half-formed faculties cannot break. + +In writing the following work, I aim at perspicuity and simplicity of +style; and try to avoid those unmeaning compliments, which slip from the +tongue, but have not the least connexion with the affections that should +warm the heart, and animate the conduct. By this false politeness, +sincerity is sacrificed, and truth violated; and thus artificial manners +are necessarily taught. For true politeness is a polish, not a varnish; +and should rather be acquired by observation than admonition. And we may +remark, by way of illustration, that men do not attempt to polish +precious stones, till age and air have given them that degree of +solidity, which will enable them to bear the necessary friction, without +destroying the main substance. + +The way to render instruction most useful cannot always be adopted; +knowledge should be gradually imparted, and flow more from example than +teaching: example directly addresses the senses, the first inlets to the +heart; and the improvement of those instruments of the understanding is +the object education should have constantly in view, and over which we +have most power. But to wish that parents would, themselves, mould the +ductile passions, is a chimerical wish, for the present generation have +their own passions to combat with, and fastidious pleasures to pursue, +neglecting those pointed out by nature: we must therefore pour premature +knowledge into the succeeding one; and, teaching virtue, explain the +nature of vice. Cruel necessity! + +The Conversations are intended to assist the teacher as well as the +pupil; and this will obviate an objection which some may start, that the +sentiments are not quite on a level with the capacity of a child. Every +child requires a different mode of treatment; but a writer can only +choose one, and that must be modified by those who are actually engaged +with young people in their studies. + +The tendency of the reasoning obviously tends to fix principles of truth +and humanity on a solid and simple foundation; and to make religion an +active, invigorating director of the affections, and not a mere attention +to forms. Systems of Theology may be complicated, but when the character +of the Supreme Being is displayed, and He is recognised as the Universal +Father, the Author and Centre of Good, a child may be led to comprehend +that dignity and happiness must arise from imitating Him; and this +conviction should be twisted into—and be the foundation of every +inculcated duty. + +At any rate, the Tales, which were written to illustrate the moral, may +recall it, when the mind has gained sufficient strength to discuss the +argument from which it was deduced. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Mary and Caroline, though the children of wealthy parents were, in their +infancy, left entirely to the management of servants, or people equally +ignorant. Their mother died suddenly, and their father, who found them +very troublesome at home, placed them under the tuition of a woman of +tenderness and discernment, a near relation, who was induced to take on +herself the important charge through motives of compassion. + +They were shamefully ignorant, considering that Mary had been fourteen, +and Caroline twelve years in the world. If they had been merely +ignorant, the task would not have appeared so arduous; but they had +caught every prejudice that the vulgar casually instill. In order to +eradicate these prejudices, and substitute good habits instead of those +they had carelessly contracted, Mrs. Mason never suffered them to be out +of her sight. They were allowed to ask questions on all occasions, a +method she would not have adopted, had she educated them from the first, +according to the suggestions of her own reason, to which experience had +given its sanction. + +They had tolerable capacities; but Mary had a turn for ridicule, and +Caroline was vain of her person. She was, indeed, very handsome, and the +inconsiderate encomiums that had, in her presence, been lavished on her +beauty made her, even at that early age, affected. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + CHAPTER I +_The Treatment of Animals.—The Ant.—The Bee.—Goodness.—The 1 +Lark’s Nest.—The Asses_ + CHAPTER II +_The Treatment of Animals.—The Difference between them and 6 +Man.—The Parental Affection of a Dog.—Brutality punished_ + CHAPTER III +_The Treatment of Animals.—The Story of crazy Robin.—The 10 +Man confined in the Bastille_ + CHAPTER IV +_Anger.—History of Jane Fretful_ 14 + CHAPTER V +_Lying.—Honour.—Truth.—Small Duties.—History of Lady Sly 18 +and Mrs. Trueman_ + CHAPTER VI +_Anger.—Folly produces Self-contempt_, _and the Neglect of 25 +others_ + CHAPTER VII +_Virtue the Soul of Beauty.—The Tulip and the Rose.—The 27 +Nightingale.—External Ornaments.—Characters_ + CHAPTER VIII +_Summer Evening’s Amusement.—The Arrival of a Family of 31 +Haymakers.—Ridicule of personal Defects censured.—A +Storm.—The Fear of Death.—The Cottage of Honest Jack_, +_the shipwrecked Sailor.—The History of Jack_, _and his +faithful Dog Pompey_ + CHAPTER IX +_The Inconveniences of immoderate Indulgence_ 37 + CHAPTER X +_The Danger of Delay.—Description of a Mansion-house in 40 +Ruins.—History of Charles Townley_ + CHAPTER XI +_Dress.—A Character.—Remarks on Mrs. Trueman’s Manner of 47 +Dressing.—Trifling Omissions undermine Affection_ + CHAPTER XII +_Behaviour to Servants.—True Dignity of Character_ 50 + CHAPTER XIII +_Employment.—Idleness produces Misery.—The Cultivation of 53 +the Fancy raises us above the Vulgar_, _extends our +Happiness_, _and leads to Virtue_ + CHAPTER XIV +_Innocent Amusements.—Description of a Welch 55 +Castle.—History of a Welch Harper.—A tyrannical +Landlord.—Family Pride_ + CHAPTER XV +_Prayer.—A Moon-light Scene.—Resignation_ 60 + CHAPTER XVI +_The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The History of the 64 +Village School-mistress.—Fatal Effects of Inattention to +Expense_, _in the History of Mr. Lofty_ + CHAPTER XVII +_The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The History of the 67 +Village School-mistress concluded_ + CHAPTER XVIII +_A Visit to the School-mistress.—True and False Pride_ 69 + CHAPTER XIX +_Charity.—The History of Peggy and her Family.—The 71 +Sailor’s Widow_ + CHAPTER XX +_Visit to Mrs. Trueman.—The Use of Accomplishments.—Virtue 74 +the Soul of all_ + CHAPTER XXI +_The Benefit of bodily Pain.—Fortitude the Basis of 77 +Virtue.—The Folly of Irresolution_ + CHAPTER XXII +_Journey to London_ 79 + CHAPTER XXIII +_Charity.—Shopping.—The distressed Stationer.—Mischievous 81 +Consequences of delaying Payment_ + CHAPTER XXIV +_Visit to a Poor Family in London.—Idleness the Parent of 84 +Vice.—Prodigality and Generosity incompatible.—The +Pleasures of Benevolence.—True and false Motives for +Saving_ + CHAPTER XXV +_Mrs. Mason’s farewell Advice to her Pupils.—Observations 86 +on Letter-writing_ + + + + + + +MORAL CONVERSATIONS AND STORIES + + +CHAPTER I + + +The treatment of animals.—The ant.—The bee.—Goodness.—The lark’s +nest.—The asses. + +One fine morning in spring, some time after Mary and Caroline were +settled in their new abode, Mrs. Mason proposed a walk before breakfast, +a custom she wished to teach imperceptibly, by rendering it amusing. + +The sun had scarcely dispelled the dew that hung on every blade of grass, +and filled the half-shut flowers; every prospect smiled, and the +freshness of the air conveyed the most pleasing sensations to Mrs. +Mason’s mind; but the children were regardless of the surrounding +beauties, and ran eagerly after some insects to destroy them. Mrs. Mason +silently observed their cruel sports, without appearing to do it; but +stepping suddenly out of the foot-path into the long grass, her buckle +was caught in it, and striving to disentangle herself, she wet her feet; +which the children knew she wished to avoid, as she had been lately sick. +This circumstance roused their attention; and they forgot their amusement +to enquire why she had left the path; and Mary could hardly restrain a +laugh, when she was informed that it was to avoid treading on some snails +that were creeping across the narrow footway. Surely, said Mary, you do +not think there is any harm in killing a snail, or any of those nasty +creatures that crawl on the ground? I hate them, and should scream if +one was to find its way from my clothes to my neck! With great gravity, +Mrs. Mason asked how she dared to kill any thing, unless it were to +prevent its hurting her? Then, resuming a smiling face, she said, Your +education has been neglected, my child; as we walk along attend to what I +say, and make the best answers you can; and do you, Caroline, join in the +conversation. + +You have already heard that God created the world, and every inhabitant +of it. He is then called the Father of all creatures; and all are made +to be happy, whom a good and wise God has created. He made those snails +you despise, and caterpillars, and spiders; and when He made them, did +not leave them to perish, but placed them where the food that is most +proper to nourish them is easily found. They do not live long, but He +who is their Father, as well as your’s, directs them to deposit their +eggs on the plants that are fit to support their young, when they are not +able to get food for themselves.—And when such a great and wise Being has +taken care to provide every thing necessary for the meanest creature, +would you dare to kill it, merely because it appears to you ugly? Mary +began to be attentive, and quickly followed Mrs. Mason’s example, who +allowed a caterpillar and a spider to creep on her hand. You find them, +she rejoined, very harmless; but a great number would destroy our +vegetables and fruit; so birds are permitted to eat them, as we feed on +animals; and in spring there are always more than at any other season of +the year, to furnish food for the young broods.—Half convinced, Mary +said, but worms are of little consequence in the world. Yet, replied +Mrs. Mason, God cares for them, and gives them every thing that is +necessary to render their existence comfortable. You are often +troublesome—I am stronger than you—yet I do not kill you. + +Observe those ants; they have a little habitation in yonder hillock; they +carry food to it for their young, and sleep very snug in it during the +cold weather. The bees also have comfortable towns, and lay up a store +of honey to support them when the flowers die, and snow covers the +ground: and this forecast is as much the gift of God, as any quality you +possess. + +Do you know the meaning of the word Goodness? I see you are unwilling to +answer. I will tell you. It is, first, to avoid hurting any thing; and +then, to contrive to give as much pleasure as you can. If some insects +are to be destroyed, to preserve my garden from desolation, I have it +done in the quickest way. The domestic animals that I keep, I provide +the best food for, and never suffer them to be tormented; and this +caution arises from two motives:—I wish to make them happy; and, as I +love my fellow-creatures still better than the brute creation, I would +not allow those that I have any influence over, to grow habitually +thoughtless and cruel, till they were unable to relish the greatest +pleasure life affords,—that of resembling God, by doing good. + +A lark now began to sing, as it soared aloft. The children watched its +motions, listening to the artless melody. They wondered what it was +thinking of—of its young family, they soon concluded; for it flew over +the hedge, and drawing near, they heard the young ones chirp. Very soon +both the old birds took their flight together, to look for food to +satisfy the craving of the almost fledged young. An idle boy, who had +borrowed a gun, fired at them—they fell; and before he could take up the +wounded pair, he perceived Mrs. Mason; and expecting a very severe +reprimand, ran away. She and the little girls drew near, and found that +one was not much hurt; but that the other, the cock, had one leg broken, +and both its wings shattered; and its little eyes seemed starting out of +their sockets, it was in such exquisite pain. The children turned away +their eyes. Look at it, said Mrs. Mason; do you not see that it suffers +as much, and more than you did when you had the small-pox, when you were +so tenderly nursed. Take up the hen; I will bind her wing together; +perhaps it may heal. As to the cock, though I hate to kill any thing, I +must put him out of pain; to leave him in his present state would be +cruel; and avoiding an unpleasant sensation myself, I should allow the +poor bird to die by inches, and call this treatment tenderness, when it +would be selfishness or weakness. Saying so, she put her foot on the +bird’s head, turning her own another way. + +They walked on; when Caroline remarked, that the nestlings, deprived of +their parents, would now perish; and the mother began to flutter in her +hand as they drew near the hedge, though the poor creature could not fly, +yet she tried to do it. The girls, with one voice, begged Mrs. Mason to +let them take the nest, and provide food in a cage, and see if the mother +could not contrive to hop about to feed them. The nest and the old +mother were instantly in Mary’s handkerchief. A little opening was left +to admit the air; and Caroline peeped into it every moment to see how +they looked. I give you leave, said Mrs. Mason, to take those birds, +because an accident has rendered them helpless; if that had not been the +case, they should not have been confined. + +They had scarcely reached the next field, when they met another boy with +a nest in his hand, and on a tree near him saw the mother, who, +forgetting her natural timidity, followed the spoiler; and her +intelligible tones of anguish reached the ears of the children, whose +hearts now first felt the emotions of humanity. Caroline called him, and +taking sixpence out of her little purse, offered to give it to him for +the nest, if he would shew her where he had taken it from. The boy +consented, and away ran Caroline to replace it,—crying all the way, how +delighted the old bird will be to find her brood again. The pleasure +that the parent-bird would feel was talked of till they came to a large +common, and heard some young asses, at the door of an hovel, making a +most dreadful noise. Mrs. Mason had ordered the old ones to be confined, +lest the young should suck before the necessary quantity had been saved +for some sick people in her neighbourhood. But after they had given the +usual quantity of milk, the thoughtless boy had left them still in +confinement, and the young in vain implored the food nature designed for +their particular support. Open the hatch, said Mrs. Mason, the mothers +have still enough left to satisfy their young. It was opened, and they +saw them suck. + +Now, said she, we will return to breakfast; give me your hands, my little +girls, you have done good this morning, you have acted like rational +creatures. Look, what a fine morning it is. Insects, birds, and +animals, are all enjoying this sweet day. Thank God for permitting you +to see it, and for giving you an understanding which teaches you that you +ought, by doing good, to imitate Him. Other creatures only think of +supporting themselves; but man is allowed to ennoble his nature, by +cultivating his mind and enlarging his heart. He feels disinterested +love; every part of the creation affords an exercise for virtue, and +virtue is ever the truest source of pleasure. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The treatment of animals.—The difference between them and man.—Parental +affection of a dog.—Brutality punished. + +After breakfast, Mrs. Mason gave the children _Mrs. Trimmer’s Fabulous +Histories_; and the subject still turned on animals, and the wanton +cruelty of those who treated them improperly. The little girls were +eager to express their detestation, and requested that in future they +might be allowed to feed the chickens. Mrs. Mason complied with their +request; only one condition was annexed to the permission, that they did +it regularly. When you wait for your food, you learn patience, she +added, and you can mention your wants; but those helpless creatures +cannot complain. The country people frequently say,—How can you treat a +poor dumb beast ill; and a stress is very properly laid on the word +dumb;—for dumb they appear to those who do not observe their looks and +gestures; but God, who takes care of every thing, understands their +language; and so did Caroline this morning, when she ran with such +eagerness to re-place the nest which the thoughtless boy had stolen, +heedless of the mother’s agonizing cries! + +Mary interrupted her, to ask, if insects and animals were not inferior to +men; Certainly, answered Mrs. Mason; and men are inferior to angels; yet +we have reason to believe, that those exalted beings delight to do us +good. You have heard in a book, which I seldom permit you to read, +because you are not of an age to understand it, that angels, when they +sang glory to God on high, wished for peace on earth, as a proof of the +good will they felt towards men. And all the glad tidings that have been +sent to men, angels have proclaimed: indeed, the word angel signifies a +messenger. In order to please God, and our happiness depends upon +pleasing him, we must do good. What we call virtue, may be thus +explained:—we exercise every benevolent affection to enjoy comfort here, +and to fit ourselves to be angels hereafter. And when we have acquired +human virtues, we shall have a nobler employment in our Father’s kingdom. +But between angels and men a much greater resemblance subsists, than +between men and the brute creation; because the two former seem capable +of improvement. + +The birds you saw to-day do not improve—or their improvement only tends +to self-preservation; the first nest they make and the last are exactly +the same; though in their flights they must see many others more +beautiful if not more convenient, and, had they reason, they would +probably shew something like individual taste in the form of their +dwellings; but this is not the case. You saw the hen tear the down from +her breast to make a nest for her eggs; you saw her beat the grain with +her bill, and not swallow a bit, till the young were satisfied; and +afterwards she covered them with her wings, and seemed perfectly happy, +while she watched over her charge; if any one approached, she was ready +to defend them, at the hazard of her life: yet, a fortnight hence, you +will see the same hen drive the fledged chickens from the corn, and +forget the fondness that seemed to be stronger than the first impulse of +nature. + +Animals have not the affections which arise from reason, nor can they do +good, or acquire virtue. Every affection, and impulse, which I have +observed in them, are like our inferior emotions, which do not depend +entirely on our will, but are involuntary; they seem to have been +implanted to preserve the species, and make the individual grateful for +actual kindness. If you caress and feed them, they will love you, as +children do, without knowing why; but we neither see imagination nor +wisdom in them; and, what principally exalts man, friendship and +devotion, they seem incapable of forming the least idea of. Friendship +is founded on knowledge and virtue, and these are human acquirements; and +devotion is a preparation for eternity; because when we pray to God, we +offer an affront to him, if we do not strive to imitate the perfections +He displays every where for our imitation, that we may grow better and +happier. + +The children eagerly enquired in what manner they were to behave, to +prove that they were superior to animals? The answer was short,—be +tender-hearted; and let your superior endowments ward off the evils which +they cannot foresee. It is only to animals that children _can_ do good, +men are their superiors. When I was a child, added their tender friend, +I always made it my study and delight, to feed all the dumb family that +surrounded our house; and when I could be of use to any one of them I was +happy. This employment humanized my heart, while, like wax, it took +every impression; and Providence has since made me an instrument of +good—I have been useful to my fellow-creatures. I, who never wantonly +trod on an insect, or disregarded the plaint of the speechless beast, can +now give bread to the hungry, physic to the sick, comfort to the +afflicted, and, above all, am preparing you, who are to live for ever, to +be fit for the society of angels, and good men made perfect. This world, +I told you, was a road to a better—a preparation for it; if we suffer, we +grow humbler and wiser: but animals have not this advantage, and man +should not prevent their enjoying all the happiness of which they are +capable. + +A she-cat or dog have such strong parental affection, that if you take +away their young, it almost kills them; some have actually died of grief +when all have been taken away; though they do not seem to miss the +greatest part. + +A bitch had once all her litter stolen from her, and drowned in a +neighbouring brook: she sought them out, and brought them one by one, +laid them at the feet of her cruel master;—and looking wistfully at them +for some time, in dumb anguish, turning her eyes on the destroyer, she +expired! + +I myself knew a man who had hardened his heart to such a degree, that he +found pleasure in tormenting every creature whom he had any power over. +I saw him let two guinea-pigs roll down sloping tiles, to see if the fall +would kill them. And were they killed? cried Caroline. Certainly; and +it is well they were, or he would have found some other mode of torment. +When he became a father, he not only neglected to educate his children, +and set them a good example, but he taught them to be cruel while he +tormented them: the consequence was, that they neglected him when he was +old and feeble; and he died in a ditch. + +You may now go and feed your birds, and tie some of the straggling +flowers round the garden sticks. After dinner, if the weather continues +fine, we will walk to the wood, and I will shew you the hole in the +lime-stone mountain (a mountain whose bowels, as we call them, are +lime-stones) in which poor crazy Robin and his dog lived. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The treatment of animals.—The story of crazy Robin.—The man confined in +the Bastille. + +In the afternoon the children bounded over the short grass of the common, +and walked under the shadow of the mountain till they came to a craggy +part; where a stream broke out, and ran down the declivity, struggling +with the huge stones which impeded its progress, and occasioned a noise +that did not unpleasantly interrupt the solemn silence of the place. The +brook was soon lost in a neighbouring wood, and the children turned their +eyes to the broken side of the mountain, over which ivy grew in great +profusion. Mrs. Mason pointed out a little cave, and desired them to sit +down on some stumps of trees, whilst she related the promised story. + +In yonder cave once lived a poor man, who generally went by the name of +crazy Robin. In his youth he was very industrious, and married my +father’s dairy-maid; a girl deserving of such a good husband. For some +time they continued to live very comfortably; their daily labour procured +their daily bread; but Robin, finding it was likely he should have a +large family, borrowed a trifle, to add to the small pittance which they +had saved in service, and took a little farm in a neighbouring county. I +was then a child. + +Ten or twelve years after, I heard that a crazy man, who appeared very +harmless, had piled by the side of the brook a great number of stones; he +would wade into the river for them, followed by a cur dog, whom he would +frequently call his Jacky, and even his Nancy; and then mumble to +himself,—thou wilt not leave me—we will dwell with the owls in the ivy.—A +number of owls had taken shelter in it. The stones which he waded for he +carried to the mouth of the hole, and only just left room enough to creep +in. Some of the neighbours at last recollected his face; and I sent to +enquire what misfortune had reduced him to such a deplorable state. + +The information I received from different persons, I will communicate to +you in as few words as I can. + +Several of his children died in their infancy; and, two years before he +came to his native place, one misfortune had followed another till he had +sunk under their accumulated weight. Through various accidents he was +long in arrears to his landlord; who, seeing that he was an honest man, +who endeavoured to bring up his family, did not distress him; but when +his wife was lying-in of her last child, the landlord dying, his heir +sent and seized the stock for the rent; and the person from whom he had +borrowed some money, exasperated to see all gone, arresting him +immediately, he was hurried to gaol, without being able to leave any +money for his family. The poor woman could not see them starve, and +trying to support her children before she had gained sufficient strength, +she caught cold; and through neglect, and her want of proper nourishment, +her illness turned to a putrid fever; which two of the children caught +from her, and died with her. The two who were left, Jacky and Nancy, +went to their father, and took with them a cur dog, that had long shared +their frugal meals. + +The children begged in the day, and at night slept with their wretched +father. Poverty and dirt soon robbed their cheeks of the roses which the +country air made bloom with a peculiar freshness; so that they soon +caught a jail fever,—and died. The poor father, who was now bereft of +all his children, hung over their bed in speechless anguish; not a groan +or a tear escaped from him, whilst he stood, two or three hours, in the +same attitude, looking at the dead bodies of his little darlings. The +dog licked his hands, and strove to attract his attention; but for awhile +he seemed not to observe his caresses; when he did, he said, mournfully, +thou wilt not leave me—and then he began to laugh. The bodies were +removed; and he remained in an unsettled state, often frantic; at length +the phrenzy subsided, and he grew melancholy and harmless. He was not +then so closely watched; and one day he contrived to make his escape, the +dog followed him, and came directly to his native village. + +After I had received this account, I determined he should live in the +place he had chosen, undisturbed. I sent some conveniences, all of which +he rejected, except a mat; on which he sometimes slept—the dog always +did. I tried to induce him to eat, but he constantly gave the dog +whatever I sent him, and lived on haws and blackberries, and every kind +of trash. I used to call frequently on him; and he sometimes followed me +to the house I now live in, and in winter he would come of his own +accord, and take a crust of bread. He gathered water-cresses out of the +pool, and would bring them to me, with nosegays of wild thyme, which he +plucked from the sides of the mountain. I mentioned before, that the dog +was a cur. It had, indeed, the bad trick of a cur, and would run barking +after horses heels. One day, when his master was gathering +water-cresses, the dog running after a young gentleman’s horse, made it +start, and almost threw the rider; who grew so angry, that though he knew +it was the poor madman’s dog, he levelled his gun at his head—shot +him,—and instantly rode off. Robin ran to his dog,—he looked at his +wounds, and not sensible that he was dead, called to him to follow him; +but when he found that he could not, he took him to the pool, and washed +off the blood before it began to clot, and then brought him home, and +laid him on the mat. + +I observed that I had not seen him pacing up the hills as usual, and sent +to enquire about him. He was found sitting by the dog, and no entreaties +could prevail on him to quit the body, or receive any refreshment. I +instantly set off for this place, hoping, as I had always been a +favourite, that I should be able to persuade him to eat something. But +when I came to him, I found the hand of death was upon him. He was still +melancholy; yet there was not such a mixture of wildness in it as +formerly. I pressed him to take some food; but, instead of answering me, +or turning away, he burst into tears,—a thing I had never seen him do +before, and, sobbing, he said, Will any one be kind to me!—you will kill +me!—I saw not my wife die—No!—they dragged me from her—but I saw Jacky +and Nancy die—and who pitied me?—but my dog! He turned his eyes to the +body—I wept with him. He would then have taken some nourishment, but +nature was exhausted—and he expired. + +Was that the cave? said Mary. They ran to it. Poor Robin! Did you ever +hear of any thing so cruel? Yes, answered Mrs. Mason; and as we walk +home I will relate an instance of still greater barbarity. + +I told you, that Robin was confined in a jail. In France they have a +dreadful one, called the Bastille. The poor wretches who are confined in +it live entirely alone; have not the pleasure of seeing men or animals; +nor are they allowed books.—They live in comfortless solitude. Some have +amused themselves by making figures on the wall; and others have laid +straws in rows. One miserable captive found a spider; he nourished it +for two or three years; it grew tame, and partook of his lonely meal. +The keeper observed it, and mentioned the circumstance to a superiour, +who ordered him to crush it. In vain did the man beg to have his spider +spared. You find, Mary, that the nasty creature which you despised was a +comfort in solitude. The keeper obeyed the cruel command; and the +unhappy wretch felt more pain when he heard the crush, than he had ever +experienced during his long confinement. He looked round a dreary +apartment, and the small portion of light which the grated bars admitted, +only served to shew him, that he breathed where nothing else drew breath. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Anger.—History of Jane Fretful. + +A few days after these walks and conversations, Mrs. Mason heard a great +noise in the play-room. She ran hastily to enquire the cause, and found +the children crying, and near them, one of the young birds lying on the +floor dead. With great eagerness each of them tried, the moment she +entered, to exculpate herself, and prove that the other had killed the +bird. Mrs. Mason commanded them to be silent; and, at the same time, +called an orphan whom she had educated, and desired her to take care of +the nest. + +The cause of the dispute was easily gathered from what they both let +fall. They had contested which had the best right to feed the birds. +Mary insisted that she had a right, because she was the eldest; and +Caroline, because she took the nest. Snatching it from one side of the +room to the other, the bird fell, and was trodden on before they were +aware. + +When they were a little composed, Mrs. Mason calmly thus addressed +them:—I perceive that you are ashamed of your behaviour, and sorry for +the consequence; I will not therefore severely reprove you, nor add +bitterness to the self-reproach you must both feel,—because I pity you. +You are now inferiour to the animals that graze on the common; reason +only serves to render your folly more conspicuous and inexcusable. +Anger, is a little despicable vice: its selfish emotions banish +compassion, and undermine every virtue. It is easy to conquer another; +but noble to subdue oneself. Had you, Mary, given way to your sister’s +humour, you would have proved that you were not only older, but wiser +than her. And you, Caroline, would have saved your charge, if you had, +for the time, waved your right. + +It is always a proof of superiour sense to bear with slight +inconveniences, and even trifling injuries, without complaining or +contesting about them. The soul reserves its firmness for great +occasions, and then it acts a decided part. It is just the contrary mode +of thinking, and the conduct produced by it, which occasions all those +trivial disputes that slowly corrode domestic peace, and insensibly +destroy what great misfortunes could not sweep away. + +I will tell you a story, that will take stronger hold on your memory than +mere remarks. + +Jane Fretful was an only child. Her fond weak mother would not allow her +to be contradicted on any occasion. The child had some tenderness of +heart; but so accustomed was she to see every thing give way to her +humour, that she imagined the world was only made for her. If any of her +playfellows had toys, that struck her capricious sickly fancy, she would +cry for them; and substitutes were in vain offered to quiet her, she must +have the identical ones, or fly into the most violent passion. When she +was an infant, if she fell down, her nurse made her beat the floor. She +continued the practice afterwards, and when she was angry would kick the +chairs and tables, or any senseless piece of furniture, if they came in +her way. I have seen her throw her cap into the fire, because some of +her acquaintance had a prettier. + +Continual passions weakened her constitution; beside, she would not eat +the common wholesome food that children, who are subject to the small-pox +and worms, ought to eat, and which is necessary when they grow so fast, +to make them strong and handsome. Instead of being a comfort to her +tender, though mistaken, mother, she was her greatest torment. The +servants all disliked her; she loved no one but herself; and the +consequence was, she never inspired love; even the pity good-natured +people felt, was nearly allied to contempt. + +A lady, who visited her mother, brought with her one day a pretty little +dog. Jane was delighted with it; and the lady, with great reluctance, +parted with it to oblige her friend. For some time she fondled, and +really felt something like an affection for it: but, one day, it happened +to snatch a cake she was going to eat, and though there were twenty +within reach, she flew into a violent passion, and threw a stool at the +poor creature, who was big with pup. It fell down; I can scarcely tell +the rest; it received so severe a blow, that all the young were killed, +and the poor wretch languished two days, suffering the most excruciating +torture. + +Jane Fretful, who was now angry with herself, sat all the time holding +it, and every look the miserable animal gave her, stung her to the heart. +After its death she was very unhappy; but did not try to conquer her +temper. All the blessings of life were thrown away on her; and, without +any real misfortune, she was continually miserable. + +If she had planned a party of pleasure, and the weather proved +unfavourable, the whole day was spent in fruitless repining, or venting +her ill-humour on those who depended on her. If no disappointment of +that kind occurred, she could not enjoy the promised pleasure; something +always disconcerted her; the horses went too fast, or, too slow; the +dinner was ill-dressed, or, some of the company contradicted her. + +She was, when a child, very beautiful; but anger soon distorted her +regular features, and gave a forbidding fierceness to her eyes. But if +for a moment she looked pleased, she still resembled a heap of +combustible matter, to which an accidental spark might set fire; of +course quiet people were afraid to converse with her. And if she ever +did a good, or a humane action, her ridiculous anger soon rendered it an +intolerable burden, if it did not entirely cancel it. + +At last she broke her mother’s heart, or hastened her death, by her want +of duty, and her many other faults: all proceeding from violent, +unrestrained anger. + +The death of her mother, which affected her very much, left her without a +friend. She would sometimes say, Ah! my poor mother, if you were now +alive, I would not teaze you—I would give the world to let you know that +I am sorry for what I have done: you died, thinking me ungrateful; and +lamenting that I did not die when you gave me suck. I shall never—oh! +never see you more. + +This thought, and her peevish temper, preyed on her impaired +constitution. She had not, by doing good, prepared her soul for another +state, or cherished any hopes that could disarm death of its terrors, or +render that last sleep sweet—its approach was dreadful!—and she hastened +her end, scolding the physician for not curing her. Her lifeless +countenance displayed the marks of convulsive anger; and she left an +ample fortune behind her to those who did not regret her loss. They +followed her to the grave, on which no one shed a tear. She was soon +forgotten; and I only remember her, to warn you to shun her errors. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Lying.—Honour.—Truth.—Small Duties.—History of Lady Sly, and Mrs. +Trueman. + +The little girls were very assiduous to gain Mrs. Mason’s good opinion; +and, by the mildness of their behaviour, to prove to her that they were +ashamed of themselves. It was one of Mrs. Mason’s rules, when they +offended her, that is, behaved improperly, to treat them civilly; but to +avoid giving them those marks of affection which they were particularly +delighted to receive. + +Yesterday, said she to them, I only mentioned to you one fault, though I +observed two. You very readily guess I mean the lie that you both told. +Nay, look up, for I wish to see you blush; and the confusion which I +perceive in your faces gives me pleasure; because it convinces me that it +is not a confirmed habit: and, indeed, my children, I should be sorry +that such a mean one had taken deep root in your infant minds. + +When I speak of falsehood, I mean every kind; whatever tends to deceive, +though not said in direct terms. Tones of voice, motions of the hand or +head, if they make another believe what they ought not to believe, are +lies, and of the worst kind; because the contrivance aggravates the +guilt. I would much sooner forgive a lie told directly, when perhaps +fear entirely occupied the thoughts, and the presence of God was not +felt: for it is His sacred Majesty that you affront by telling an +untruth. + +How so? enquired Mary. + +Because you hope to conceal your falsehood from every human creature: +but, if you consider a moment, you must recollect, that the Searcher of +hearts reads your very thoughts; that nothing is hid from him. + +You would blush if I were to discover that you told a lie; yet wantonly +forfeit the favour of Him, from whom you have received life and all its +blessings, to screen yourselves from correction or reproof, or, what is +still worse, to purchase some trifling gratification, the pleasure of +which would last but a moment. + +You heard the gentleman who visited me this morning, very frequently use +the word Honour. Honour consists in respecting yourself; in doing as you +would be done by; and the foundation of honour is Truth. + +When I can depend on the veracity of people, that is to say, am convinced +that they adhere to truth, I rely on them; am certain they have courage, +because I know they will bear any inconvenience rather than despise +themselves, for telling a lie. Besides, it is not necessary to consider +what you intend to say, when you have done right. Always determine, on +every occasion, to speak the truth, and you will never be at a loss for +words. If your character for this scrupulous attention is once fixed, +your acquaintance will be courted; and those who are not particularly +pleased with you, will, at least, respect your honourable principles. It +is impossible to form a friendship without making truth the basis; it is +indeed the essence of devotion, the employment of the understanding, and +the support of every duty. + +I govern my servants, and you, by attending strictly to truth, and this +observance keeping my head clear and my heart pure, I am ever ready to +pray to the Author of good, the Fountain of truth. + +While I am discussing the subject, let me point out to you another branch +of this virtue; Sincerity.—And remember that I every day set you an +example; for I never, to please for the moment, pay unmeaning +compliments, or permit any words to drop from my tongue, that my heart +does not dictate. And when I relate any matter of fact, I carefully +avoid embellishing it, in order to render it a more entertaining story; +not that I think such a practice absolutely criminal; but as it +contributes insensibly to wear away a respect for truth, I guard against +the vain impulse, lest I should lose the chief strength, and even +ornament, of my mind, and become like a wave of the sea, drifted about by +every gust of passion. + +You must in life observe the most apparently insignificant duties—the +great ones are the pillars of virtue; but the constant concurrence of +trifling things, makes it necessary that reason and conscience should +always preside, to keep the heart steady. Many people make promises, and +appointments, which they scruple not to break, if a more inviting +pleasure occurs, not remembering that the slightest duty should be +performed before a mere amusement is pursued—for any neglect of this kind +embitters play. Nothing, believe me, can long be pleasant, that is not +innocent. + +As I usually endeavour to recollect some persons of my acquaintance, who +have suffered by the faults, or follies, I wish you to avoid; I will +describe two characters, that will, if I mistake not, very strongly +enforce what I have been saying. + +Last week you saw Lady Sly, who came to pay me a morning visit. Did you +ever see such a fine carriage, or such beautiful horses? How they pawed +the ground, and displayed their rich harnesses! Her servants wore +elegant liveries, and her own clothes suited the equipage. Her house is +equal to her carriage; the rooms are lofty, and hung with silk; noble +glasses and pictures adorn them: and the pleasure-grounds are large and +well laid out; beside the trees and shrubs, they contain a variety of +summer-houses and temples, as they are called.—Yet my young friends, this +is _state_, not _dignity_. + +This woman has a little soul, she never attended to truth, and obtaining +great part of her fortune by falsehood, it has blighted all her +enjoyments. She inhabits that superb house, wears the gayest clothes, +and rides in that beautiful carriage, without feeling pleasure. +Suspicion, and the cares it has given birth to, have wrinkled her +countenance, and banished every trace of beauty, which paint in vain +endeavours to repair. Her suspicious temper arises from a knowledge of +her own heart, and the want of rational employments. + +She imagines that every person she converses with means to deceive her; +and when she leaves a company, supposes all the ill they may say of her, +because she recollects her own practice. She listens about her house, +expecting to discover the designs of her servants, none of whom she can +trust; and in consequence of this anxiety her sleep is unsound, and her +food tasteless. She walks in her paradise of a garden, and smells not +the flowers, nor do the birds inspire her with cheerfulness.—These +pleasures are true and simple, they lead to the love of God, and all the +creatures whom He hath made—and cannot warm a heart which a malicious +story can please. + +She cannot pray to God;—He hates a liar! She is neglected by her +husband, whose only motive for marrying her was to clear an incumbered +estate. Her son, her only child, is undutiful; the poor never have cause +to bless her; nor does she contribute to the happiness of any human +being. + +To kill time, and drive away the pangs of remorse, she goes from one +house to another, collecting and propagating scandalous tales, to bring +others on a level with herself. Even those who resemble her are afraid +of her; she lives alone in the world, its good things are poisoned by her +vices, and neither inspire joy nor gratitude. + +Before I tell you how she acquired these vicious habits, and enlarged her +fortune by disregarding truth, I must desire you to think of Mrs. +Trueman, the curate’s wife, who lives in yonder white house, close to the +church; it is a small one, yet the woodbines and jessamins that twine +about the windows give it a pretty appearance. Her voice is sweet, her +manners not only easy, but elegant; and her simple dress makes her person +appear to the greatest advantage. + +She walks to visit me, and her little ones hang on her hands, and cling +to her clothes, they are so fond of her. If any thing terrifies them, +they run under her apron, and she looks like the hen taking care of her +young brood. The domestic animals play with the children, finding her a +mild attentive mistress; and out of her scanty fortune she contrives to +feed and clothe many a hungry shivering wretch; who bless her as she +passes along. + +Though she has not any outward decorations, she appears superior to her +neighbours, who call her the _Gentlewoman_; indeed every gesture shews an +accomplished and dignified mind, that relies on itself; when deprived of +the fortune which contributed to polish and give it consequence. + +Drawings, the amusement of her youth, ornament her neat parlour; some +musical instruments stand in one corner; for she plays with taste, and +sings sweetly. + +All the furniture, not forgetting a book-case, full of well-chosen books, +speak the refinement of the owner, and the pleasures a cultivated mind +has within its own grasp, independent of prosperity. + +Her husband, a man of taste and learning, reads to her, while she makes +clothes for her children, whom she teaches in the tenderest, and most +persuasive manner, important truths and elegant accomplishments. + +When you have behaved well for some time you shall visit her, and ramble +in her little garden; there are several pretty seats in it, and the +nightingales warble their sweetest songs, undisturbed, in the shade. + +I have now given you an account of the present situation of both, and of +their characters; listen to me whilst I relate in what manner these +characters were formed, and the consequence of each adhering to a +different mode of conduct. + +Lady Sly, when she was a child, used to say pert things, which the +injudicious people about her laughed at, and called very witty. Finding +that her prattle pleased, she talked incessantly, and invented stories, +when adding to those that had some foundation, was not sufficient to +entertain the company. If she stole sweetmeats, or broke any thing, the +cat, or the dog, was blamed, and the poor animals were corrected for her +faults; nay, sometimes the servants lost their places in consequence of +her assertions. Her parents died and left her a large fortune, and an +aunt, who had a still larger, adopted her. + +Mrs. Trueman, her cousin, was, some years after, adopted by the same +lady; but her parents could not leave their estate to her, as it +descended to the male heir. She had received the most liberal education, +and was in every respect the reverse of her cousin; who envied her merit, +and could not bear to think of her dividing the fortune which she had +long expected to inherit entirely herself. She therefore practised every +mean art to prejudice her aunt against her, and succeeded. + +A faithful old servant endeavoured to open her mistress’s eyes; but the +cunning niece contrived to invent the most infamous story of the old +domestic, who was in consequence of it dismissed. Mrs. Trueman supported +her, when she could not succeed in vindicating her, and suffered for her +generosity; for her aunt dying soon after, left only five hundred pounds +to this amiable woman, and fifty thousand to Lady Sly. + +They both of them married shortly after. One, the profligate Lord Sly, +and the other a respectable clergyman, who had been disappointed in his +hopes of preferment. This last couple, in spite of their mutual +disappointments, are contented with their lot; and are preparing +themselves and children for another world, where truth, virtue and +happiness dwell together. + +For believe me, whatever happiness we attain in this life, must faintly +resemble what God Himself enjoys, whose truth and goodness produce a +sublime degree, such as we cannot conceive, it is so far above our +limited capacities. + +I did not intend to detain you so long, said Mrs. Mason; have you +finished _Mrs. Trimmer’s Fabulous Histories_? Indeed we have, answered +Caroline, mournfully, and I was very sorry to come to the end. I never +read such a pretty book; may I read it over again to Mrs. Trueman’s +little Fanny? Certainly, said Mrs. Mason, if you can make her understand +that birds never talk. Go and run about the garden, and remember the +next lie I detect, I shall punish; because lying is a vice;—and I ought +to punish you if you are guilty of it, to prevent your feeling Lady Sly’s +misery. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Anger.—Folly produces Self-contempt, and the Neglect of others. + +Mrs. Mason had a number of visitors one afternoon, who conversed in the +usual thoughtless manner which people often fall into who do not consider +before they speak; they talked of Caroline’s beauty, and she gave herself +many affected airs to make it appear to the best advantage. But Mary, +who had not a face to be proud of, was observing some peculiarities in +the dress or manners of the guests; and one very respectable old lady, +who had lost her teeth, afforded her more diversion than any of the rest. + +The children went to bed without being reproved, though Mrs. Mason, when +she dismissed them, said gravely, I give you to-night a kiss of peace, an +affectionate one you have not deserved. They therefore discovered by her +behaviour that they had done wrong, and waited for an explanation to +regain her favour. + +She was never in a passion, but her quiet steady displeasure made them +feel so little in their own eyes, they wished her to smile that they +might be something; for all their consequence seemed to arise from her +approbation. I declare, said Caroline, I do not know what I have done, +and yet I am sure I never knew Mrs. Mason find fault without convincing +me that I had done wrong. Did you, Mary, ever see her in a passion? No, +said Mary, I do believe that she was never angry in her life; when John +threw down all the china, and stood trembling, she was the first to say +that the carpet made him stumble. Yes, now I do remember, when we first +came to her house, John forgot to bring the cow and her young calf into +the cow-house; I heard her bid him do it directly, and the poor calf was +almost frozen to death—she spoke then in a hurry, and seemed angry. Now +you mention it, I do recollect, replied Caroline, that she was angry, +when Betty did not carry the poor sick woman the broth she ordered her to +take to her. But this is not like the passion I used to see nurse in, +when any thing vexed her. She would scold us, and beat the girl who +waited on her. Poor little Jenny, many a time was she beaten, when we +vexed nurse; I would tell her she was <not> to blame now if I saw her—and +I would not tease her any more. + +I declare I cannot go to sleep, said Mary, I am afraid of Mrs. Mason’s +eyes—would you think, Caroline, that she who looks so very good-natured +sometimes, could frighten one so? I wish I were as wise and as good as +she is. The poor woman with the six children, whom we met on the common, +said she was an angel, and that she had saved her’s and her children’s +lives. My heart is in my mouth, indeed, replied Caroline, when I think +of to-morrow morning, and yet I am much happier than I was when we were +at home. I cried, I cannot now tell for what, all day; I never wished to +be good—nobody told me what it was to be good. I wish to be a woman, +said Mary, and to be like Mrs. Mason, or Mrs. Trueman,—we are to go to +see her if we behave well. + +Sleep soon over-powered them, and they forgot their apprehensions. In +the morning they awoke refreshed, and took care to learn their lessons, +and feed the chickens, before Mrs. Mason left her chamber. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Virtue the Soul of Beauty.—The Tulip and the Rose.—The +Nightingale.—External Ornaments.—Characters. + +The next morning Mrs. Mason met them first in the garden; and she desired +Caroline to look at a bed of tulips, that were then in their highest +state of perfection. I, added she, choose to have every kind of flower +in my garden, as the succession enables me to vary my daily prospect, and +gives it the charm of variety; yet these tulips afford me less pleasure +than most of the other sort which I cultivate—and I will tell you +why—they are only beautiful. Listen to my distinction;—good features, +and a fine complexion, I term _bodily_ beauty. Like the streaks in the +tulip, they please the eye for a moment; but this uniformity soon tires, +and the active mind flies off to something else. The soul of beauty, my +dear children, consists in the body gracefully exhibiting the emotions +and variations of the informing mind. If truth, humanity, and knowledge +inhabit the breast, the eyes will beam with a mild lustre, modesty will +suffuse the cheeks, and smiles of innocent joy play over all the +features. At first sight, regularity and colour will attract, and have +the advantage, because the hidden springs are not directly set in motion; +but when internal goodness is reflected, every other kind of beauty, the +shadow of it, withers away before it—as the sun obscures a lamp. + +You are certainly handsome, Caroline; I mean, have good features; but you +must improve your mind to give them a pleasing expression, or they will +only serve to lead your understanding astray. I have seen some foolish +people take great pains to decorate the outside of their houses, to +attract the notice of strangers, who gazed, and passed on; whilst the +inside, where they received their friends, was dark and inconvenient. +Apply this observation to mere personal attractions. They may, it is +true, for a few years, charm the superficial part of your acquaintance, +whose notions of beauty are not built on any principle of utility. Such +persons might look at you, as they would glance their eye over these +tulips, and feel for a moment the same pleasure that a view of the +variegated rays of light would convey to an uninformed mind. The lower +class of mankind, and children, are fond of finery; gaudy, dazzling +appearances catch their attention; but the discriminating judgment of a +person of sense requires, besides colour, order, proportion, grace and +usefulness, to render the idea of beauty complete. + +Observe that rose, it has all the perfections I speak of; colour, grace, +and sweetness—and even when the fine tints fade, the smell is grateful to +those who have before contemplated its beauties. I have only one bed of +tulips, though my garden is large, but, in every part of it, roses +attract the eye. + +You have seen Mrs. Trueman, and think her a very fine woman; yet her skin +and complexion have only the clearness that temperance gives; and her +features, strictly speaking, are not regular: Betty, the housemaid, has, +in both these respects, much the superiority over her. But, though it is +not easy to define in what her beauty consists, the eye follows her +whenever she moves; and every person of taste listens for the modulated +sounds which proceed out of her mouth, to be improved and pleased. It is +conscious worth, _truth_, that gives dignity to her walk, and simple +elegance to her conversation. She has, indeed, a most excellent +understanding, and a feeling heart; sagacity and tenderness, the result +of both, are happily blended in her countenance; and taste is the polish, +which makes them appear to the best advantage. She is more than +beautiful; and you see her varied excellencies again and again, with +increasing pleasure. They are not obtruded on you, for knowledge has +taught her true humility: she is not like the flaunting tulip, that +forces itself forward into notice; but resembles the modest rose, you see +yonder, retiring under its elegant foliage. + +I have mentioned flowers—the same order is observed in the higher +departments of nature. Think of the birds; those that sing best have not +the finest plumage; indeed just the contrary; God divides His gifts, and +amongst the feathered race the nightingale (sweetest of warblers, who +pours forth her varied strain when sober eve comes on) you would seek in +vain in the morning, if you expected that beautiful feathers should point +out the songstress: many who incessantly twitter, and are only tolerable +in the general concert, would surpass her, and attract your attention. + +I knew, some time before you were born, a very fine, a very handsome +girl; I saw she had abilities, and I saw with pain that she attended to +the most obvious, but least valuable gift of heaven. Her ingenuity +slept, whilst she tried to render her person more alluring. At last she +caught the small-pox—her beauty vanished, and she was for a time +miserable; but the natural vivacity of youth overcame her unpleasant +feelings. In consequence of the disorder, her eyes became so weak that +she was obliged to sit in a dark room. To beguile the tedious day she +applied to music, and made a surprising proficiency. She even began to +think, in her retirement, and when she recovered her sight grew fond of +reading. + +Large companies did not now amuse her, she was no longer the object of +admiration, or if she was taken notice of, it was to be pitied, to hear +her former self praised, and to hear them lament the depredation that +dreadful disease had made in a fine face. Not expecting or wishing to be +observed, she lost her affected airs, and attended to the conversation, +in which she was soon able to bear a part. In short, the desire of +pleasing took a different turn, and as she improved her mind, she +discovered that virtue, internal beauty, was valuable on its own account, +and not like that of the person, which resembles a toy, that pleases the +observer, but does not render the possessor happy. + +She found, that in acquiring knowledge, her mind grew tranquil, and the +noble desire of acting conformably to the will of God succeeded, and +drove out the immoderate vanity which before actuated her, when her +equals were the objects she thought most of, and whose approbation she +sought with such eagerness. And what had she sought? To be stared at +and called handsome. Her beauty, the mere sight of it, did not make +others good, or comfort the afflicted; but after she had lost it, she was +comfortable herself, and set her friends the most useful example. + +The money that she had formerly appropriated to ornament her person, now +clothed the naked; yet she really appeared better dressed, as she had +acquired the habit of employing her time to the best advantage, and could +make many things herself. Besides, she did not implicitly follow the +reigning fashion, for she had learned to distinguish, and in the most +trivial matters acted according to the dictates of good sense. + +The children made some comments on this story, but the entrance of a +visitor interrupted the conversation, and they ran about the garden, +comparing the roses and tulips. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Summer Evening’s Amusement.—The Arrival of a Family of +Haymakers.—Ridicule of personal Defects censured.—A Storm.—The Fear of +Death.—The Cottage of honest Jack, the shipwrecked Sailor.—The History of +Jack, and his faithful Dog Pompey. + +The evening was pleasant; Mrs. Mason and the children walked out; and +many rustic noises struck their ears. Some bells in a neighbouring +village, softened by the distance, sounded pleasingly; the beetles +hummed, and the children pursued them, not to destroy them; but to +observe their form, and ask questions concerning their mode of living. +Sheep were bleating and cattle lowing, the rivulet near them babbled +along, while the sound of the distant ocean died away on the ear—or they +forgot it, listening to the whistling of the hay-makers, who were +returning from the field. They met a whole family who came every year +from another county where they could not find constant employment, and +Mrs. Mason allowed them to sleep in her barn. The little ones knew their +benefactress, and tried to catch a smile; and she was ever ready to smile +on those whom she obliged; for she loved all her fellow creatures, and +love lightens obligations. Besides, she thought that the poor who are +willing to work, had a right to the comforts of life. + +A few moments after, they met a deformed woman; the children stared her +almost out of countenance; but Mrs. Mason turned her head another way, +and when the poor object was out of hearing, said to Mary, I intended to +reprove you this morning for a fault which I have frequently seen you +commit; and this moment and the other evening it was particularly +conspicuous. When that deformed woman passed us, I involuntarily looked +at something else, and would not let her perceive that she was a +disgusting figure, and attracted notice on that account. I say I did it +involuntarily, for I have accustomed myself to think of others, and what +they will suffer on all occasions: and this lothness to offend, or even +to hurt the feelings of another, is an instantaneous spring which +actuates my conduct, and makes me kindly affected to every thing that +breathes. If I then am so careful not to wound a stranger, what shall I +think of your behaviour, Mary? when you laughed at a respectable old +woman, who beside her virtues and her age, had been particularly civil to +you. I have always seen persons of the weakest understandings, and whose +hearts benevolence seldom touched, ridicule bodily infirmities, and +accidental defects. They could only relish the inferiour kind of beauty, +which I described this morning, and a silly joy has elated their empty +souls, on finding, by comparison, that they were superiour to others in +that respect, though the conclusion was erroneous, for merit, mental +acquirements, can only give a just claim to superiority. Had you +possessed the smallest portion of discernment, you would soon have +forgotten the tones, loss of teeth made drawling, in listening to the +chearful good sense which that worthy woman’s words conveyed. You +laughed, because you were ignorant, and I now excuse you; but some years +hence, if I were to see you in company, with such a propensity, I should +still think you a child, an overgrown one, whose mind did not expand as +the body grew. + +The sky began to thicken, and the lowing of the cattle to have a +melancholy cadence; the nightingale forgot her song, and fled to her +nest; and the sea roared and lashed the rocks. During the calm which +portended an approaching storm, every creature was running for +shelter.—We must, if possible, said Mrs. Mason, reach yon cottage on the +cliff, for we shall soon have a violent thunder-storm. They quickened +their pace, but the hurricane overtook them. The hail-stones fell, the +clouds seemed to open and disclose the lightning, while loud peals of +thunder shook the ground; the wind also in violent gusts rushed among the +trees, tore off the slender branches and loosened the roots. + +The children were terrified; but Mrs. Mason gave them each a hand, and +chatted with them to dispel their fears. She informed them that storms +were necessary to dissipate noxious vapours, and to answer many other +purposes, which were not, perhaps, obvious to our weak understandings. +But are you not afraid? cried the trembling Caroline. No, certainly, I +am not afraid.—I walk with the same security as when the sun enlivened +the prospect—God is still present, and we are safe. Should the flash +that passes by us, strike me dead, it cannot hurt me, I fear not death!—I +only fear that Being who can render death terrible, on whose providence I +calmly rest; and my confidence earthly sorrows cannot destroy. A mind is +never truly great, till the love of virtue overcomes the fear of death. + +By this time they had mounted the cliff, and saw the tumultuous deep. +The angry billows rose, and dashed against the shore; and the loud noise +of the raging sea resounded from rock to rock. + +They ran into the cottage; the poor woman who lived in it, sent her +children for wood, and soon made a good fire to dry them. + +The father of the family soon after came in, leaning on crutches; and +over one eye there was a large patch. I am glad to see you honest Jack, +said Mrs. Mason, come and take your seat by the fire, and tell the +children the story of your shipwreck. + +He instantly complied. I was very young, my dear ladies, said Jack, when +I went to sea, and endured many hardships,—however I made a shift to +weather them all; and whether the wind was fair or foul, I ran up the +shrouds and sung at the helm. I had always a good heart, no lad fore or +aft had a better; when we were at sea, I never was the first to flinch; +and on shore I was as merry as the best of them. I married she you see +yonder, (lifting his crutch to point to his wife) and her work and my +wages did together, till I was shipwrecked on these rocks. Oh! it was a +dreadful night; this is nothing to it; but I am getting to the end of my +story before I begin it. + +During the war, I went once or twice to New York. The last was a good +voyage, and we were all returning with joy to dear England, when the +storm rose; the vessel was like a bird, it flew up and down, and several +of our best hands were washed clean overboard—My poor captain! a better +never plowed the ocean, he fell overboard too, and it was some time +before we missed him; for it was quite dark, except that flashes of +lightning, now and then, gave us light. I was at the helm, lashing it to +the side of the ship—a dreadful flash came across me, and I lost one of +my precious eyes.—But thank God I have one left. + +The weather cleared up next day, and, though we had been finely mauled, I +began to hope, for I hate to be faint-hearted, and certainly we should +have got into the channel very soon, if we had not fell in with a French +man of war, which took us; for we could not make any resistance. + +I had a dog, poor Pompey! with me. Pompey would not leave me, he was as +fond of me as if he had been a christian. I had lost one eye by the +lightning, the other had been sore, so that I could hardly call it a +peep-hole. Somehow I fell down the hatchway, and bruised one of my legs; +but I did not mind it, do ye see, till we arrived at Brest and were +thrown into a French Prison. + +There I was worse off than ever; the room we were all stowed in, was full +of vermin, and our food very bad; mouldy biscuits, and salt fish. The +prison was choke full, and many a morning did we find some honest fellow +with his chops fallen—he was not to be waked any more!—he was gone to the +other country, do ye see. + +Yet the French have not such hard hearts as people say they have! +Several women brought us broth, and wine; and one gave me some rags to +wrap round my leg, it was very painful, I could not clean it, nor had I +any plaister. One day I was looking sorrowfully at it, thinking for +certain I should lose my precious limb; when, would you believe it? +Pompey saw what I was thinking about, and began to lick it.—And, I never +knew such a surprizing thing, it grew better and better every day, and at +last was healed without any plaister. + + [Picture: Indeed we are very happy!] + +After that I was very sick, and the same tender-hearted creature who gave +me the rags, took me to her house; and fresh air soon recovered me. I +for certain ought to speak well of the French; but for their kindness I +should have been in another port by this time. Mayhap I might have gone +with a fair wind, yet I should have been sorry to have left my poor wife +and her children. But I am letting all my line run out! Well, +by-and-by, there was an exchange of prisoners, and we were once more in +an English vessel, and I made sure of seeing my family again; but the +weather was still foul. Three days and nights we were in the greatest +distress; and the fourth the ship was dashed against these rocks. Oh! if +you had heard the crash! The water rushed in—the men screamed, Lord have +mercy on us! There was a woman in the ship, and, as I could swim, I +tried to save her, and Pompey followed me; but I lost him—poor fellow! I +declare I cried like a child when I saw his dead body. However I brought +the woman to shore; and assisted some more of my mess-mates; but, +standing in the water so long, I lost the use of my limbs—yet Heaven was +good to me; Madam, there, sent a cart for us all, and took care of us; +but I never recovered the use of my limbs. So she asked me all about my +misfortunes, and sent for wife, who came directly, and we have lived here +ever since. We catch fish for Madam, and watch for a storm, hoping some +time or other to be as kind to a poor perishing soul as she has been to +me. Indeed we are very happy—I might now have been begging about the +streets, but for Madam, God bless her. + +A tear strayed down Mrs. Mason’s cheek, while a smile of benevolence +lighted up her countenance—the little girls caught each hand—They were +all silent a few minutes when she, willing to turn the discourse, +enquired whether they had any fish in the house? Some were produced, +they were quickly dressed, and they all eat together. They had a +chearful meal, and honest Jack sung some of his seafaring songs, and did +all he could to divert them and express his gratitude. Getting up to +reach the brown loaf, he limped very awkwardly, Mary was just beginning +to laugh, when she restrained herself; for she recollected that his +awkwardness made him truly respectable, because he had lost the use of +his limbs when he was doing good, saving the lives of his +fellow-creatures. + +The weather cleared up, and they returned home. The children conversed +gaily with each other all the way home, talking of the poor sailor, and +his faithful dog. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The Inconveniences of immoderate Indulgence. + +The children were allowed to help themselves to fruit, when it made a +part of their meal; and Caroline always took care to pick out the best, +or swallow what she took in a hurry, lest she should not get as much as +she wished for. Indeed she generally eat more than her share. She had +several times eaten more than a person ought to eat at one time, without +feeling any ill effects; but one afternoon she complained of a pain in +her stomach in consequence of it, and her pale face, and languid eyes, +plainly shewed her indisposition. Mrs. Mason gave her an emetic, and +after the operation she was obliged to go to bed, though she had promised +herself a pleasant walk that evening. She was left alone, for Mary was +not permitted to stay at home with her, as she offered to do. Had her +sickness been accidental, we would both have tried to amuse her, said +Mrs. Mason; but her greediness now receiving its natural and just +punishment, she must endure it without the alleviation which pity +affords; only tell her from me, that the pleasure was but momentary, +while the pain and confinement it produced, has already lasted some +hours. + +The next morning, though scarcely recovered, she got up, as usual, to +have a walk before breakfast. During these walks, Mrs. Mason told them +stories, pointed out the wisdom of God in the creation, and took them to +visit her poor tenants. These visits not only enabled her to form a +judgment of their wants, but made them very industrious; for they were +all anxious that she might find their houses and persons clean. And +returning through the farmyard, Mrs. Mason stopped according to custom, +to see whether the poor animals were taken care of—this she called +earning her breakfast. The servant was just feeding the pigs, and though +she poured a great quantity into the trough, the greedy creatures tried +to gobble it up from one another. Caroline blushed, she saw this sight +was meant for her, and she felt ashamed of her gluttony. But Mrs. Mason, +willing to impress her still more strongly, thus addressed her. + +Providence, my child, has given us passions and appetites for various +purposes—two are generally obvious, I will point them out to you. First +to render our present life more comfortable, and then to prepare us for +another, by making us sociable beings; as in society virtue is acquired, +and self-denial practised. A moderate quantity of proper food recruits +our exhausted spirits, and invigorates the animal functions; but, if we +exceed moderation, the mind will be oppressed, and soon become the slave +of the body, or both grow listless and inactive. Employed various ways, +families meet at meals, and there giving up to each other, learn in the +most easy, pleasant way to govern their appetites. Pigs, you see, devour +what they can get; but men, if they have any affections, love their +fellow-creatures, and wish for a return; nor will they, for the sake of a +brutish gratification, lose the esteem of those they value. Besides, no +one can be reckoned virtuous who has not learned to bear poverty: yet +those who think much of gratifying their appetites, will at last act +meanly in order to indulge them. But when any employment of the +understanding, or strong affection occupies the mind, eating is seldom +thought a matter of greater importance than it ought to be. Let the idle +_think_ of their meals; but do you employ the intermediate time in a +different manner, and only enjoy them when you join the social circle. I +like to see children, and even men, eat chearfully, and gratefully +receive the blessings sent by Heaven; yet I would not have them abuse +those blessings, or ever let the care necessary to support the body, +injure the immortal spirit: many think of the sustenance the former +craves, and entirely neglect the latter. + +I remarked to you before, that in the most apparently trivial concerns, +we are to do as we would be done by. This duty must be practised +constantly; at meals there are frequent opportunities, and I hope, +Caroline, I shall never again see you eager to secure dainties for +yourself. If such a disposition were to grow up with you, you ought to +live alone, for no one should enjoy the advantages and pleasures which +arise from social intercourse, who is unwilling to give way to the +inclinations of others, and allow each their share of the good things of +this life. + +You experienced yesterday, that pain follows immoderate indulgence; it is +always the case, though sometimes not felt so immediately; but the +constitution is insensibly destroyed, and old age will come on, loaded +with infirmities. You also lost a very pleasant walk, and some fine +fruit. We visited Mrs. Goodwin’s garden, and as Mary had before +convinced me that she could regulate her appetites, I gave her leave to +pluck as much fruit as she wished; and she did not abuse my indulgence. +On the contrary, she spent most part of the time in gathering some for +me, and her attention made it taste sweeter. + +Coming home I called her my friend, and she deserved the name, for she +was no longer a child; a reasonable affection had conquered an appetite; +her understanding took the lead, and she had practised a virtue. + +The subject was now dropped; but, Caroline determined to copy in future +her sister’s temperance and self-denial. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The Danger of Delay.—Description of a Mansion-house in Ruins.—The History +of Charles Townley. + +Mrs. Mason who always regulated her own time, and never loitered her +hours irresolutely away, had very frequently to wait for the children, +when she wished to walk, though she had desired them to be ready at a +precise time. Mary in particular had a trick of putting everything off +till the last moment, and then she did but half do it, or left it undone. +This indolent way of delaying made her miss many opportunities of +obliging and doing good; and whole hours were lost in thoughtless +idleness, which she afterwards wished had been better employed. + +This was the case one day, when she had a letter to write to her father; +and though it was mentioned to her early in the morning, the finest part +of the evening slipped away whilst she was finishing it; and her haste +made her forget the principal thing which she intended to have said. + +Out of breath she joined them; and after they had crossed several fields, +Mrs. Mason turning down a long avenue, bade them look at a large old +mansion-house. It was now in ruins. Ivy grew over the substantial +walls, that still resisted the depredations of time, and almost concealed +a noble arch, on which maimed lions couched; and vultures and eagles, who +had lost their wings, seemed to rest for ever there. Near it was a +rookery, and the rooks lived safe in the high trees, whose trunks were +all covered with ivy or moss, and a number of fungusses grew about their +large roots. The grass was long, and remaining undisturbed, save when +the wind swept across it, was of course pathless. Here the mower never +whet his scythe, nor did the haymakers mix their songs with the hoarse +croaking of the rooks. A spacious basin, on the margin of which water +plants grew with wild luxuriance, was overspread with slime; and afforded +a shelter for toads and adders. In many places were heaped the ruins of +ornamental buildings, whilst sun-dials rested in the shade;—and pedestals +that had crushed the figures they before supported. Making their way +through the grass, they would frequently stumble over a headless statue, +or the head would impede their progress. When they spoke, the sound +seemed to return again, as if unable to penetrate the thick stagnated +air. The sun could not dart its purifying rays through the thick gloom, +and the fallen leaves contributed to choke up the way, and render the air +more noxious. + +I brought you to this place on purpose this evening, said Mrs. Mason to +the children, who clung about her, to tell you the history of the last +inhabitant; but, as this part is unwholesome, we will sit on the broken +stones of the drawbridge. + +Charles Townley was a boy of uncommon abilities, and strong feelings; but +he ever permitted those feelings to direct his conduct, without +submitting to the direction of reason; I mean, the present emotion +governed him.—He had not any strength or consistency of character; one +moment he enjoyed a pleasure, and the next felt the pangs of remorse, on +account of some duty which he had neglected. He always indeed intended +to act right in every particular _to-morrow_; but _to-day_ he followed +the prevailing whim. + +He heard by chance of a man in great distress, he determined to relieve +him, and left his house in order to follow the humane impulse; but +meeting an acquaintance, he was persuaded to go to the play, and +_to-morrow_, he thought, he would do the act of charity. The next +morning some company came to breakfast with him, and took him with them +to view some fine pictures. In the evening he went to a concert; the day +following he was tired, and laid in bed till noon; then read a pathetic +story, well wrought up, _wept_ over it—fell asleep—and forgot to _act_ +humanely. An accident reminded him of his intention, he sent to the man, +and found that he had too long delayed—the relief was useless. + +In this thoughtless manner he spent his time and fortune; never applying +to any profession, though formed to shine in any one he should have +chosen. His friends were offended, and at last allowed him to languish +in a gaol; and as there appeared no probability of reforming or fixing +him, they left him to struggle with adversity. + +Severely did he reproach himself—He was almost lost in despair, when a +friend visited him. This friend loved the latent sparks of virtue which +he imagined would some time or other light up, and animate his conduct. +He paid his debts, and gave him a sum of money sufficient to enable him +to prepare for a voyage to the East Indies, where Charles wished to go, +to try to regain his lost fortune. Through the intercession of this +kind, considerate friend, his relations were reconciled to him, and his +spirits raised. + +He sailed with a fair wind, and fortune favouring his most romantic +wishes, in the space of fifteen years, he acquired a much larger fortune +than he had even hoped for, and thought of visiting, nay, settling in his +native country for the remainder of his life. + +Though impressed by the most lively sense of gratitude, he had dropped +his friend’s correspondence; yet, as he knew that he had a daughter, his +first determination was to reserve for her the greater part of his +property, as the most substantial proof which he could give of his +gratitude.—The thought pleased him, and that was sufficient to divert him +for some months; but accidentally hearing that his friend had been very +unsuccessful in trade, this information made him wish to hasten his +return to his native country. Still a procrastinating spirit possessed +him, and he delayed from time to time the arduous task of settling his +affairs, previous to his departure: he wrote, however, to England, and +transmitted a considerable sum to a correspondent, desiring that this +house might be prepared for him, and the mortgage cleared. + +I can scarcely enumerate the various delays that prevented his embarking; +and when he arrived in England, he came here, and was so childishly eager +to have his house fitted up with taste, that he actually trifled away a +month, before he went to seek for his friend. + +But his negligence was now severely punished. He learned that he had +been reduced to great distress, and thrown into the very gaol, out of +which he took Townley, who, hastening to it, only found his dead body +there; for he died the day before. On the table was lying, amidst some +other scraps of paper, a letter, directed in an unsteady hand to Charles +Townley. He tore it open. Few were the scarcely legible lines; but they +smote his heart. He read as follows:— + +‘I have been reduced by unforeseen misfortunes; yet when I heard of your +arrival, a gleam of joy cheered my heart—_I thought I knew your’s_, and +that my latter days might still have been made comfortable in your +society, for I loved you; I even expected pleasure; but I was mistaken; +death is my only friend.’ + +He read it over and over again; and cried out, Gracious God, had I +arrived but one day sooner I should have seen him, and he would not have +died thinking me the most ungrateful wretch that ever burdened the earth! +He then knocked his clinched fist against his forehead, looked wildly +round the dreary apartment, and exclaimed in a choked, though impatient +tone, You sat here yesterday, thinking of my ingratitude—Where are you +now! Oh! that I had seen you! Oh! that my repenting sighs could reach +you!— + +He ordered the body to be interred, and returned home a prey to grief and +despondency. Indulging it to excess, he neglected to enquire after his +friend’s daughter; he intended to provide amply for her, but now he could +only grieve. + +Some time elapsed, then he sent, and the intelligence which he procured +aggravated his distress, and gave it a severe additional sting. + +The poor gentle girl had, during her father’s life, been engaged to a +worthy young man; but, some time after his death, the relations of her +lover had sent him to sea to prevent the match taking place. She was +helpless, and had not sufficient courage to combat with poverty; to +escape from it, she married an old rake whom she detested. He was +ill-humoured, and his vicious habits rendered him a most dreadful +companion. She tried in vain to please him, and banish the sorrow that +bent her down, and made wealth and all the pleasures it could procure +tasteless. Her tender father was dead—she had lost her lover—without a +friend or confident, silent grief consumed her. I have told you +friendship is only to be found amongst the virtuous; her husband was +vicious. + +Ah! why did she marry, said Mary? + +Because she was timid; but I have not told you all; the grief that did +not break her heart, disturbed her reason; and her husband confined her +in a madhouse. + +Charles heard of this last circumstance; he visited her. Fanny, said he, +do you recollect your old friend? Fanny looked at him, and reason for a +moment resumed her seat, and informed her countenance to trace anguish on +it—the trembling light soon disappeared—wild fancy flushed in her eyes, +and animated her incessant rant. She sung several verses of different +songs, talked of her husband’s ill-usage—enquired if he had lately been +to sea? And frequently addressed her father as if he were behind her +chair, or sitting by her. + +Charles could not bear this scene—If I could lose like her a sense of +woe, he cried, this intolerable anguish would not tear my heart! The +fortune which he had intended for her could not restore her reason; but, +had he sent for her soon after her father’s death, he might have saved +her and comforted himself. + +The last stroke was worse than the first; he retired to this abode; +melancholy creeping on him, he let his beard grow, and the garden run +wild. One room in the house the poor lunatic inhabited; and he had a +proper person to attend her, and guard her from the dangers she wished to +encounter. Every day he visited her, the sight of her would almost have +unhinged a sound mind—How could he bear it, when his conscience +reproached him, and whispered that he had neglected to do good, to live +to any rational purpose—The sweets of friendship were denied, and he +every day contemplated the saddest of all sights—the wreck of a human +understanding. + +He died without a will. The estate was litigated, and as the title to +this part could not be proved, the house was let fall into its present +state. + + [Picture: Be calm, my child] + +But the night will overtake us, we must make haste home—Give me your +hand, Mary, you tremble; surely I need not desire you to remember this +story—Be calm, my child, and remember that you must attend to trifles; do +all the good you can the present day, nay hour, if you would keep your +conscience clear. This circumspection may not produce dazzling actions, +nor will your silent virtue be supported by human applause; but your +Father, who seeth in secret, will reward you. + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Dress.—A Character.—Remarks on Mrs. Trueman’s Manner of +dressing.—Trifling Omissions undermine Affection. + +Mary’s procrastinating temper produced many other ill consequences; she +would lie in bed till the last moment, and then appear without washing +her face or cleaning her teeth. Mrs. Mason had often observed it, and +hinted her dislike; but, unwilling to burden her with precepts, she +waited for a glaring example. One was soon accidentally thrown in her +way, and she determined that it should not pass unobserved. + +A lady, who was remarkable for her negligence in this respect, spent a +week with them; and, during that time, very frequently disconcerted the +economy of the family. She was seldom fit to be seen, and if any company +came by chance to dinner, she would make them wait till it was quite +cold, whilst she huddled on some ill-chosen finery. In the same style, +if a little party of pleasure was proposed, she had to dress herself, and +the hurry discomposed her, and tired those, who did not like to lose time +in anticipating a trifling amusement. + +A few hours after she had left them, Mrs. Mason enquired of Mary, what +effect this week’s experience had had on her mind? You are fond of +ridicule, child, but seldom in the right place; real cause for it you let +slip, and heed not the silent reproof that points at your own faults: do +not mistake me, I would not have you laugh at—yet I wish you to feel, +what is ridiculous, and learn to distinguish folly. Mrs. Dowdy’s +negligence arises from indolence; her mind is not employed about matters +of importance; and, if it were, it would not be a sufficient excuse for +her habitually neglecting an essential part of a man’s as well as a +woman’s duty. I said habitually; grief will often make those careless, +who, at other times, pay a proper attention to their person; and this +neglect is a sure indication that the canker-worm is at work; and we +ought to pity, rather than blame the unfortunate. Indeed when painful +activity of mind occasions this inattention, it will not last long; the +soul struggles to free itself, and return to its usual tone and old +habits. The lady we have been speaking of, ever appears a sloven, though +she is sometimes a disgusting figure, and, at others, a very taudry +flirt. + +I continually caution Caroline not to spend much time in adorning her +person; but I never desired you to neglect yours. Wisdom consists in +avoiding extremes—immoderate fondness for dress, I term vanity; but a +proper attention to avoid singularity does not deserve that name. Never +waste much time about trifles; but the time that is necessary, employ +properly. Exercise your understanding, taste flows from it, and will in +a moment direct you, if you are not too solicitous to conform to the +changing fashions; and loiter away in laborious idleness the precious +moments when the imagination is most lively, and should be allowed to fix +virtuous affections in the tender youthful heart. + +Of all the women whom I have ever met with, Mrs. Trueman seems the freest +from vanity, and those frivolous views which degrade the female +character. Her virtues claim respect, and the practice of them engrosses +her thoughts; yet her clothes are apparently well chosen, and you always +see her in the same attire. Not like many women who are eager to set off +their persons to the best advantage, when they are only going to take a +walk, and are careless, nay slovenly, when forced to stay at home. Mrs. +Trueman’s conduct is just the reverse, she tries to avoid singularity, +for she does not wish to disgust the generality; but it is her family, +her friends, whom she studies to please. + +In dress it is not little minute things, but the whole that should be +attended to, and that every day; and this attention gives an ease to the +person because the clothes appear unstudily graceful. Never, continued +Mrs. Mason, desire to excel in trifles, if you do—there is an end to +virtuous emulation, the mind cannot attend to both; for when the main +pursuit is trivial, the character will of course become insignificant. +Habitual neatness is laudable; but, if you wish to be reckoned a well, an +elegantly dressed girl; and feel that praise on account of it gives you +pleasure, you are vain; and a laudable ambition cannot dwell with vanity. + +Servants, and those women whose minds have had a very limited range, +place all their happiness in ornaments, and frequently neglect the only +essential part in dress,—neatness. + +I have not the least objection to your dressing according to your age; I +rather encourage it, by allowing you to wear the gayest colours; yet I +insist on some degree of uniformity: and think you treat me +disrespectfully when you appear before me, and have forgotten to do, what +should never be neglected, and what you could have done in less than a +quarter of an hour. + +I always dress myself before breakfast, and expect you to follow my +example, if there is not a sufficient, and obvious excuse. You, Mary, +missed a pleasant airing yesterday; for if you had not forgotten the +respect which is due to me, and hurried down to breakfast in a slovenly +manner, I should have taken you out with me; but I did not choose to wait +till you were ready, as your not being so was entirely your own fault. + +Fathers, and men in general, complain of this inattention; they have +always to wait for females. Learn to avoid this fault, however +insignificant it may appear in your eyes, for that habit cannot be of +little consequence that sometimes weakens esteem. When we frequently +make allowance for another in trifling matters, notions of inferiority +take root in the mind, and too often produce contempt. Respect for the +understanding must be the basis of constancy; the tenderness which flows +from pity is liable to perish insensibly, to consume itself—even the +virtues of the heart, when they degenerate into weakness, sink a +character in our estimation. Besides, a kind of gross familiarity, takes +place of decent affection; and the respect which alone can render +domestic intimacy a lasting comfort is lost before we are aware of it. + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Behaviour to Servants.—True Dignity of Character. + +The children not coming down to breakfast one morning at the usual time, +Mrs. Mason went herself to enquire the reason; and as she entered the +apartment, heard Mary say to the maid who assisted her, I wonder at your +impertinence, to talk thus to me—do you know who you are speaking to?—she +was going on; but Mrs. Mason interrupted her, and answered the +question—to a little girl, who is only assisted because she is weak. +Mary shrunk back abashed, and Mrs. Mason continued, as you have treated +Betty, who is ten years older than yourself, improperly, you must now do +every thing for yourself; and, as you will be some time about it, +Caroline and I will eat our breakfast, and visit Mrs. Trueman. By the +time we return, you may perhaps have recollected that children are +inferior to servants—who act from the dictates of reason, and whose +understandings are arrived at some degree of maturity, while children +must be governed and directed till _their’s_ gains strength to work by +itself: for it is the proper exercise of our reason that makes us in any +degree independent. + +When Mrs. Mason returned, she mildly addressed Mary. I have often told +you that every dispensation of Providence tended to our improvement, if +we do not perversely act contrary to our interest. One being is made +dependent on another, that love and forbearance may soften the human +heart, and that linked together by necessity, and the exercise of the +social affections, the whole family on earth might have a fellow feeling +for each other. By these means we improve one another; but there is no +real inferiority. + +You have read the fable of the head supposing itself superior to the rest +of the members, though all are equally necessary to the support of life. +If I behave improperly to servants, I am really their inferior, as I +abuse a trust, and imitate not the Being, whose servant I am, without a +shadow of equality. Children are helpless. I order my servants to wait +on you, because you are so; but I have not as much respect for you as for +them; you may possibly become a virtuous character.—Many of my servants +are really so already; they have done their duty, filled an humble +station, as they ought to fill it, conscientiously. And do you dare to +despise those whom your Creator approves? + +Before the greatest earthly beings I should not be awed, they are my +fellow servants; and, though superior in rank, which, like personal +beauty, only dazzles the vulgar; yet I may possess more knowledge and +virtue. The same feeling actuates me when I am in company with the poor; +we are creatures of the same nature, and I may be their inferiour in +those graces which should adorn my soul, and render me truly great. + +How often must I repeat to you, that a child is inferiour to a man; +because reason is in its infancy, and it is reason which exalts a man +above a brute; and the cultivation of it raises the wise man above the +ignorant; for wisdom is only another name for virtue. + +This morning, when I entered your apartment, I heard you insult a worthy +servant. You had just said your prayers; but they must have been only +the gabble of the tongue; your heart was not engaged in the sacred +employment, or you could not so soon have forgotten that you were a weak, +dependent being, and that you were to receive mercy and kindness only on +the condition of your practising the same. + +I advise you to ask Betty to pardon your impertinence; till you do so, +she shall not assist you; you would find yourself very helpless without +the assistance of men and women—unable to cook your meat, bake your +bread, wash your clothes, or even put them on—such a helpless creature is +a child—I know what you are, you perceive. + +Mary submitted—and in future after she said her prayers, remembered that +she was to endeavour to curb her temper. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Employment.—Idleness produces Misery.—The Cultivation of the Fancy raises +us above the Vulgar, extends our Happiness, and leads to Virtue. + +One afternoon, Mrs. Mason gave the children leave to amuse themselves; +but a kind of listlessness hung over them, and at a loss what to do, they +seemed fatigued with doing nothing. They eat cakes though they had just +dined, and did many foolish things merely because they were idle. Their +friend seeing that they were irresolute, and could not fix on any +employment, requested Caroline to assist her to make some clothes, that a +poor woman was in want of, and while we are at work, she added, Mary will +read us an entertaining tale, which I will point out. + +The tale interested the children, who chearfully attended, and after it +was finished, Mrs. Mason told them, that as she had some letters to +write, she could not take her accustomed walk; but that she would allow +them to represent her, and act for once like women. They received their +commission, it was to take the clothes to the poor woman, whom they were +intended for; learn her present wants; exercise their own judgment with +respect to the immediate relief she stood in need of, and act +accordingly. + +They returned home delighted, eager to tell what they had done, and how +thankful, and happy they had left the poor woman. + +Observe now, said Mrs. Mason, the advantages arising from employment; +three hours ago, you were uncomfortable, without being sensible of the +cause, and knew not what to do with yourselves. Nay, you actually +committed a sin; for you devoured cakes without feeling hunger, merely to +kill time, whilst many poor people have not the means of satisfying their +natural wants. When I desired you to read to me you were amused; and now +you have been useful you are delighted. Recollect this in future when +you are at a loss what to do with yourselves—and remember that idleness +must always be intolerable, because it is only an irksome consciousness +of existence. + +Every gift of Heaven is lent to us for our improvement; fancy is one of +the first of the inferiour ones; in cultivating it, we acquire what is +called taste, or a relish for particular employments, which occupy our +leisure hours, and raise us above the vulgar in our conversation. Those +who have not any taste talk always of their own affairs or of their +neighbours; every trivial matter that occurs within their knowledge they +convass and conjecture about—not so much out of ill-nature as idleness: +just as you eat the cakes without the impulse of hunger. In the same +style people talk of eating and dress, and long for their meals merely to +divide the day, because the intermediate time is not employed in a more +interesting manner. Every new branch of taste that we cultivate, affords +us a refuge from idleness, a fortress in which we may resist the assaults +of vice; and the more noble our employments, the more exalted will our +minds become. + +Music, drawing, works of usefulness and fancy, all amuse and refine the +mind, sharpen the ingenuity; and form, insensibly, the dawning +judgment.—As the judgment gains strength, so do the passions also; we +have actions to weigh, and need that taste in conduct, that delicate +sense of propriety, which gives grace to virtue. The highest branch of +solitary amusement is reading; but even in the choice of books the fancy +is first employed; for in reading, the heart is touched, till its +feelings are examined by the understanding, and the ripenings of reason +regulate the imagination. This is the work of years, and the most +important of all employments. When life advances, if the heart has been +capable of receiving early impressions, and the head of reasoning and +retaining the conclusions which were drawn from them; we have acquired a +stock of knowledge, a gold mine which we can occasionally recur to, +independent of outward circumstances. + +The supreme Being has every thing in Himself; we proceed from Him, and +our knowledge and affections must return to Him for employment suited to +them. And those who most resemble Him ought, next to Him, to be the +objects of our love; and the beings whom we should try to associate with, +that we may receive an inferiour degree of satisfaction from their +society.—But be assured our chief comfort must ever arise from the mind’s +reviewing its own operations—and the whispers of an approving conscience, +to convince us that life has not slipped away unemployed. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Innocent Amusements.—Description of a Welsh Castle.—History of a Welsh +Harper.—A tyrannical Landlord.—Family Pride. + +As it was now harvest time, the new scene, and the fine weather delighted +the children, who ran continually out to view the reapers. Indeed every +thing seemed to wear a face of festivity, and the ripe corn bent under +its own weight, or, more erect, shewed the laughing appearance of plenty. + +Mrs. Mason always allowing the gleaners to have a sufficient quantity, a +great number of poor came to gather a little harvest; and she was pleased +to see the feeble hands of childhood and age, collecting the scattered +ears. + +Honest Jack came with his family; and when the labours of the day were +over, would play on a fiddle, that frequently had but three strings. But +it served to set the feet in motion, and the lads and lasses dancing on +the green sod, suffered every care to sleep. + +An old Welsh harper generally came to the house about this time of the +year, and staid a month or more; for Mrs. Mason was particularly fond of +this instrument, and interested in the fate of the player; as is almost +always the case, when we have rescued a person out of any distress. + +She informed the children, that once travelling through Wales, her +carriage was overturned near the ruins of an old castle. And as she had +escaped unhurt, she determined to wander amongst them, whilst the driver +took care of his horses, and her servant hastened to the neighbouring +village for assistance. + + [Picture: Trying to trace the sound] + +It was almost dark, and the lights began to twinkle in the scattered +cottages. The scene pleased me, continued Mrs. Mason, I thought of the +various customs which the lapse of time unfolds; and dwelt on the state +of the Welsh, when this castle, now so desolate, was the hospitable abode +of the chief of a noble family. These reflections entirely engrossed my +mind, when the sound of a harp reached my ears. Never was any thing more +opportune, the national music seemed to give reality to the pictures +which my imagination had been drawing. I listened awhile, and then +trying to trace the pleasing sound, discovered, after a short search, a +little hut, rudely built. The walls of an old tower supported part of +the thatch, which scarcely kept out the rain, and the two other sides +were stones cemented, or rather plaistered together, by mud and clay. + +I entered, and beheld an old man, sitting by a few loose sticks, which +blazed on the hearth; and a young woman, with one child at her breast, +sucking, and another on her knee: near them stood a cow and her calf. +The man had been playing on the harp, he rose when he saw me, and offered +his chair, the only one in the room, and sat down on a large chest in the +chimney-corner. When the door was shut, all the light that was admitted +came through the hole, called a chimney, and did not much enliven the +dwelling. I mentioned my accident to account for my intrusion, and +requested the harper again to touch the instrument that had attracted me. +A partition of twigs and dried leaves divided this apartment from +another, in which I perceived a light; I enquired about it, and the +woman, in an artless manner, informed me, that she had let it to a young +gentlewoman lately married, who was related to a very good family, and +would not lodge any where, or with any body. This intelligence made me +smile, to think that family pride should be a solace in such extreme +poverty. + +I sat there some time, and then the harper accompanied me to see whether +the carriage was repaired; I found it waiting for me; and as the inn I +was to sleep at was only about two miles further, the harper offered to +come and play to me whilst I was eating my supper. This was just what I +wished for, his appearance had roused my compassion as well as my +curiosity, and I took him and his harp in the chaise. After supper he +informed me, that he had once a very good farm; but he had been so +unfortunate as to displease the justice, who never forgave him, nor +rested till he had ruined him. This tyrant always expected his tenants +to assist him to bring in his harvest before they had got in their own. +The poor harper was once in the midst of his, when an order was sent to +him to bring his carts and servants, the next day, to the fields of this +petty king. He foolishly refused; and this refusal was the foundation of +that settled hatred which produced such fatal consequences. Ah, Madam, +said the sufferer, your heart would ache, if you heard of all his +cruelties to me, and the rest of his poor tenants. He employs many +labourers, and will not give them as much wages as they could get from +the common farmers, yet they dare not go any-where else to work when he +sends for them. The fish that they catch they must bring first to him, +or they would not be allowed to walk over his grounds to catch them; and +he will give just what he pleases for the most valuable part of their +pannier. + +But there would be no end to my story were I to tell you of all his +oppressions. I was obliged to leave my farm; and my daughter, whom you +saw this evening, having married an industrious young man, I came to live +with them. When,—would you believe it? this same man threw my son into +jail, on account of his killing a hare, which all the country folks do +when they can catch them in their grounds. We were again in great +distress, and my daughter and I built the hut you saw in the waste, that +the poor babes might have a shelter. I maintain them by playing on the +harp,—the master of this inn allows me to play to the gentry who travel +this way; so that I pick up a few pence, just enough to keep life and +soul together, and to enable me to send a little bread to my poor son +John Thomas. + +He then began one of the most dismal of his Welsh ditties, and, in the +midst of it cried out, he is an upstart, a mere mushroom!—His grandfather +was cow-boy to mine!—So I told him once, and he never forgot it.— + +The old man then informed me that the castle in which he now was +sheltered formerly belonged to his family—such are the changes and +chances of this mortal life—said he, and hastily struck up a lively +tune.— + +While he was striking the strings, I thought too of the changes in life +which an age had produced. The descendant of those who had made the hall +ring with social mirth now mourned in its ruins, and hung his harp on the +mouldering battlements. Such is the fate of buildings and of families! + +After I had dismissed my guest, I sent for the landlord, to make some +further enquiries; and found that I had not been deceived; I then +determined to assist him, and thought my accident providential. I knew a +man of consequence in the neighbourhood, I visited him, and exerted +myself to procure the enlargement of the young man. I succeeded; and not +only restored him to his family; but prevailed on my friend to let him +rent a small farm on his estate, and I gave him money to buy stock for +it, and the implements of husbandry. + +The old harper’s gratitude was unbounded; the summer after he walked to +visit me; and ever since he has contrived to come every year to enliven +our harvest-home.—This evening it is to be celebrated. + +The evening came; the joyous party footed it away merrily, and the sound +of their shoes was heard on the barn-floor. It was not the light +fantastic toe, that fashion taught to move, but honest heart-felt mirth, +and the loud laugh, if it spoke the vacant head, said audibly that the +heart was guileless. + +Mrs. Mason always gave them some trifling presents at this time, to +render the approach of winter more comfortable. To the men, she +generally presented warm clothing, and to the women flax and worsted for +knitting and spinning; and those who were the most industrious received a +reward when the new year commenced. The children had books given to +them, and little ornaments.—All were anxious for the day; and received +their old acquaintance, the harper, with the most cordial smiles. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Prayer.—A Moon-light Scene.—Resignation. + +The harper would frequently sit under a large elm, a few paces from the +house, and play some of the most plaintive Welsh tunes. While the people +were eating their supper, Mrs. Mason desired him to play her some +favourite airs; and she and the children walked round the tree under +which he sat, on the stump of another. + +The moon rose in cloudless majesty, and a number of stars twinkled near +her. The softened landscape inspired tranquillity, while the strain of +rustic melody gave a pleasing melancholy to the whole—and made the tear +start, whose source could scarcely be traced. The pleasure the sight of +harmless mirth gave rise to in Mrs. Mason’s bosom, roused every tender +feeling—set in motion her spirits.—She laughed with the poor whom she had +made happy, and wept when she recollected her own sorrows; the illusions +of youth—the gay expectations that had formerly clipped the wings of +time.—She turned to the girls—I have been very unfortunate, my young +friends; but my griefs are now of a placid kind. Heavy misfortunes have +obscured the sun I gazed at when first I entered life—early attachments +have been broken—the death of friends I loved has so clouded my days; +that neither the beams of prosperity, nor even those of benevolence, can +dissipate the gloom; but I am not lost in a thick fog.—My state of mind +rather resembles the scene before you, it is quiet—I am weaned from the +world, but not disgusted—for I can still do good—and in futurity a sun +will rise to cheer my heart.—Beyond the night of death, I hail the dawn +of an eternal day! I mention my state of mind to you, that I may tell +you what supports me. + +The festivity within, and the placidity without, led my thoughts +naturally to the source from whence my comfort springs—to the Great +Bestower of every blessing. Prayer, my children, is the dearest +privilege of man, and the support of a feeling heart. Mine has too often +been wounded by ingratitude; my fellow-creatures, whom I have fondly +loved, have neglected me—I have heard their last sigh, and thrown my eyes +round an empty world; but then more particularly feeling the presence of +my Creator, I poured out my soul before Him—and was no longer alone!—I +now daily contemplate His wonderful goodness; and, though at an awful +distance, try to imitate Him. This view of things is a spur to activity, +and a consolation in disappointment. + +There is in fact a constant intercourse kept up with the Creator, when we +learn to consider Him, as the fountain of truth, which our understanding +naturally thirsts after. But His goodness brings Him still more on a +level with our bounded capacities—for we trace it in every work of mercy, +and feel, in sorrow particularly, His fatherly care. Every blessing is +doubled when we suppose it comes from Him, and afflictions almost lose +their name when we believe they are sent to correct, not crush us.—Whilst +we are alive to gratitude and admiration, we must adore God. + +The human soul is so framed, that goodness and truth must fill it with +ineffable pleasure, and the nearer it approaches to perfection, the more +earnestly will it pursue those virtues, discerning more clearly their +beauty. + +The Supreme Being dwells in the universe. He is as essentially present +to the wicked as to the good; but the latter delight in His presence, and +try to please Him, whilst the former shrink from a Judge, who is of too +pure a nature to behold iniquity.—The wicked wish for the rocks to cover +them, mountains, or the angry sea, which we the other day surveyed, to +hide them from the presence of that Being—in whose presence only they +could find joy. You feel emotions that incite you to do good; and +painful ones disturb you, when you have resisted the faithful internal +monitor. The wiser, and the better you grow, the more visible, if I may +use the expression, will God become—For wisdom consists in searching Him +out—and goodness in endeavouring to copy His attributes. + +To attain any thing great, a model must be held up to exercise our +understanding, and engage our affections. A view of the disinterested +goodness of God is therefore calculated to touch us more than can be +conceived by a depraved mind. When the love of God is shed abroad in our +hearts; true courage will animate our conduct, for nothing can hurt those +who trust in Him. If the desire of acting right is ever present with us, +if admiration of goodness fills our souls; we may be said to pray +constantly. And if we try to do justice to all our fellow-creatures, and +even to the brute creation; and assist them as far as we can, we prove +whose servants we are, and whose laws we transcribe in our lives. + +Never be very anxious, when you pray, what _words_ to use; regulate your +_thoughts_; and recollect that virtue calms the passions, gives clearness +to the understanding, and opens it to pleasures that the thoughtless and +vicious have not a glimpse of. You must, believe me, be acquainted with +God to find peace, to rise superior to worldly temptations. Habitual +devotion is of the utmost consequence to our happiness, as what oftenest +occupies the thoughts will influence our actions. But, observe what I +say,—_that_ devotion is mockery and selfishness, which does not improve +our moral character. + +Men, of old, prayed to the devil, sacrificed their children to him; and +committed every kind of barbarity and impurity. But we who serve a +long-suffering God should pity the weakness of our fellow-creatures; we +must not beg for mercy and not shew it;—we must not acknowledge that we +have offended, without trying to avoid doing so in future. We are to +deal with our fellow-creatures as we expect to be dealt with. This is +practical prayer!—Those who practise it feel frequently sublime +pleasures, and lively hopes animate them in this vale of tears; that seem +a foretaste of the felicity they will enjoy, when the understanding is +more enlightened, and the affections properly regulated. + +To-morrow I will take you to visit the school-mistress of the village, +and relate her story, to enforce what I have been saying. + +Now you may go and dance one or two dances; and I will join you after I +have taken a walk, which I wish to enjoy alone. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The History of the Village +School-mistress.—Fatal Effects of Inattention to Expences, in the History +of Mr. Lofty. + +The next morning Mrs. Mason desired the children to get their work, and +draw near the table whilst she related the promised history; and in the +afternoon, if the weather be fine, they were to visit the village +school-mistress. + +Her father, the honourable Mr. Lofty, was the youngest son of a noble +family; his education had been liberal, though his fortune was small. +His relations, however, seemed determined to push him forward in life, +before he disobliged them by marrying the daughter of a country +clergyman, an accomplished, sensible woman. + +Some time after the birth of his daughter Anna, his elder brother, the +Earl of Caermarthen, was reconciled to him; but this reconciliation only +led him into expences, which his limited fortune could not bear. Mr. +Lofty had a high sense of honour, and rather a profuse turn; he was, +beside, a very humane man, and gave away much more than he could afford +to give, when his compassion was excited. He never did a mean action; +but sometimes an ostentatious pride tarnished the lustre of very splendid +ones, made them appear to judicious eyes, more like tinsel, than gold. I +will account for it. His first impulse arose from sensibility, and the +second from an immoderate desire of human applause: for he seemed not to +be alive to devotional feelings, or to have that rock to rest on, which +will support a frail being, and give true dignity to a character, though +all nature combined to crush it. + +Mrs. Lofty was not a shining character—but I will read you a part of a +letter, which her daughter, the lady we are to visit, wrote to me. + +‘This being the anniversary of the day on which an ever loved, and much +revered parent was released from the bondage of mortality, I observe it +with particular seriousness, and with gratitude; for her sorrows were +great, her trials severe—but her conduct was blameless: yet the world +admired her not; her silent, modest virtues, were not formed to attract +the notice of the injudicious crowd, and her understanding was not +brilliant enough to excite admiration. But she was regardless of the +opinion of the world; she sought her reward in the source from whence her +virtue was derived—and she found it.—He, who, for wise and merciful +purposes, suffered her to be afflicted, supported her under her trials; +thereby calling forth the exercise of those virtues with which He had +adorned her gentle soul; and imparting to her a degree of heart-felt +comfort, which no earthly blessing could afford.’ + +This amiable parent died when Anna was near eighteen, and left her to the +care of her father, whose high spirit she had imbibed. However, the +religious principles which her mother had instilled regulated her notions +of honour, and so elevated her character, that her heart was regulated by +her understanding. + +Her father who had insensibly involved himself in debt, after her +mother’s death, tried many different schemes of life, all of which, at +first wore a promising aspect; but wanting that suppleness of temper, +that enables people to rise in the world, his struggles, instead of +extricating, sunk him still deeper. Wanting also the support of +religion, he became sour, easily irritated, and almost hated a world +whose applause he had once eagerly courted. His affairs were at last in +such a desperate state, that he was obliged, reluctantly, to accept of an +invitation from his brother, who with his wife, a weak fine lady, +intended to spend some time on the continent; his daughter was, of +course, to be of the party. + +The restraint of obligations did not suit his temper, and feeling himself +dependent, he imagined every one meant to insult him. + +Some sarcasms were thrown out one day by a gentleman, in a large company; +they were not personal, yet he took fire. His sore mind was easily hurt, +he resented them; and heated by wine, they both said more than their cool +reason would have suggested. Mr. Lofty imagined his honour was wounded, +and the next morning sent him a challenge—They met—and he killed his +antagonist, who, dying, pardoned him, and declared that the sentiments +which had given him so much offence, fell from him by accident, and were +not levelled at any person. + +The dying man lamented, that the thread of a thoughtless life had been so +suddenly snapped—the name of his wife and children he could not +articulate, when something like a prayer for them escaped his livid lips, +and shook his exhausted frame—The blood flowed in a copious stream—vainly +did Mr. Lofty endeavour to staunch it—the heart lost its vital +nourishment—and the soul escaped as he pressed the hand of his +destroyer.—Who, when he found him breathless, ran home, and rushed in a +hurry into his own chamber. The dead man’s image haunted his +imagination—he started—imagined that he was at his elbow—and shook the +hand that had received the dying grasp—yet still it was pressed, and the +pressure entered into his very soul—On the table lay two pistols, he +caught up one,—and shot himself.—The report alarmed the family—the +servants and his daughter, for his brother was not at home, broke open +the door,—and she saw the dreadful sight! As there was still some +appearance of life, a trembling ray—she supported the body, and sent for +assistance. But he soon died in her arms without speaking, before the +servant returned with a surgeon. + +Horror seized her, another pistol lay charged on the table, she caught it +up, but religion held her hand—she knelt down by a dead father, and +prayed to a superior one. Her mind grew calmer—yet still she +passionately wished she had but heard him speak, or that she had conveyed +comfort to his departing spirit—where, where would it find comfort? again +she was obliged to have recourse to prayer. + +After the death of her father, her aunt treated her as if she were a mere +dependent on her bounty; and expected her to be an humble companion in +every sense of the word. The visitors took the tone from her ladyship, +and numberless were the mortifications she had to bear. + +The entrance of a person about business interrupted the narration; but +Mrs. Mason promised to resume it after dinner. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The History of the Village +School-mistress concluded. + +As soon as the cloth was removed, Mrs. Mason concluded the narration; and +the girls forgot their fruit whilst they were listening to the sequel. + +Anna endured this treatment some years, and had an opportunity of +acquiring a knowledge of the world and her own heart. She visited her +mother’s father, and would have remained with him; but she determined not +to lessen the small pittance which he had anxiously saved out of a scanty +income for two other grand-children. She thought continually of her +situation, and found, on examining her understanding, that the +fashionable circle in which she moved, could not at any rate have +afforded her much satisfaction, or even amusement; though the neglect and +contempt that she met with rendered her very uncomfortable. She had her +father’s spirit of independence, and determined to shake off the galling +yoke which she had long struggled with, and try to earn her own +subsistence. Her acquaintance expostulated with her, and represented the +miseries of poverty, and the mortifications and difficulties that she +would have to encounter. Let it be so, she replied, it is much +preferable to swelling the train of the proud or vicious great, and +despising myself for bearing their impertinence, for eating their bitter +bread;—better, indeed, is a dinner of herbs with contentment. My wants +are few. When I am my own mistress, the crust I earn will be sweet, and +the water that moistens it will not be mingled with tears of sorrow or +indignation. + +To shorten my story; she came to me, after she had attempted several +plans, and requested my advice. She would not accept of any considerable +favour, and declared that the greatest would be, to put her in a way of +supporting herself, without forfeiting her highly valued independence. I +knew not what to advise; but whilst I was debating the matter with +myself, I happened to mention, that we were in want of a school-mistress. +She eagerly adopted the plan, and persevering in it these last ten years, +I find her a most valuable acquisition to our society. + +She was formed to shine in the most brilliant circle—yet she relinquished +it, and patiently labours to improve the children consigned to her +management, and tranquillize her own mind. She succeeds in both. + +She lives indeed alone, and has all day only the society of children; yet +she enjoys many true pleasures; dependence on God is her support, and +devotion her comfort. Her lively affections are therefore changed into a +love of virtue and truth: and these exalted speculations have given an +uncommon dignity to her manners; for she seems above the world, and its +trifling commotions. At her meals, gratitude to Heaven supplies the +place of society. She has a tender, social heart, and, as she cannot +sweeten her solitary draught, by expressing her good wishes to her +fellow-creatures, an ejaculation to Heaven for the welfare of her friends +is the substitute. This circumstance I heard her mention to her +grandfather, who sometimes visits her. + +I will now make some alteration in my dress, for when I visit those who +have been reduced from their original place in society by misfortunes, I +always attend a little to ceremony; lest too much familiarity should +appear like disrespect. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Visit to the School-mistress.—True and false Pride. + +Their dress was soon adjusted, and the girls plucked flowers to adorn +themselves, and a nosegay to present to the school-mistress, whose garden +was but small. + +They met the children just released from confinement; the swarm came +humming round Mrs. Mason, endeavouring to catch her eye, and obtain the +notice they were so proud of. The girls made their best courtesies, +blushing; and the boys hung down their heads, and kicked up the dust, in +scraping a bow of respect. + +They found their mistress preparing to drink tea, to refresh herself +after the toils of the day; and, with the ease peculiar to well-bred +people, she quickly enabled them to partake of it, by giving the +tea-board a more sociable appearance. + +The harvest-home was soon the subject of conversation, and the harper was +mentioned. The family pride of the Welsh, said Anna, has often diverted +me; I have frequently heard the inhabitants of a little hut, that could +scarcely be distinguished from the pig-sty, which stood in the front of +it, boast of their ancestors and despise trade. They have informed me, +that one branch of their family built the middle aisle of the church; +that another beautified the chancel, and gave the ten commandments, which +blaze there in letters of gold. Some rejoice that their forefathers +sleep in the most conspicuous tombs—and that their ashes have an +inscription to point out where they are returning to their mother earth. +And those graves, which only a little stone at the head gives consequence +to, are adorned every Sunday with flowers, or ever-greens. We perceive, +in all the various customs of men, a desire to live in the past and in +the future, if I may be allowed the expression. + +Mrs. Mason then observed, that of all the species of pride which carry a +man out of himself, family pride was the most beneficial to society. +Pride of wealth produces vanity and ostentation; but that of blood seems +to inspire high notions of honour, and to banish meanness. Yet it is +productive of many ill consequences, the most obvious is, that it renders +individuals respectable to the generality, whose merit is only reflected: +and sometimes the want of this accidental advantage throws the most +shining personal virtues and abilities into obscurity. In weak minds +this pride degenerates into the most despicable folly; and the wise will +not condescend to accept of fame at second-hand, replied Anna. We ought +to be proud of our original, but we should trace it to our Heavenly +Father, who breathed into us the breath of life.—We are His children when +we try to resemble Him, when we are convinced that truth and goodness +must constitute the very essence of the soul; and that the pursuit of +them will produce happiness, when the vain distinctions of mortals will +fade away, and their pompous escutcheons moulder with more vulgar dust! +But remember, my young friends, virtue is immortal; and goodness arises +from a quick perception of truth, and actions conformable to the +conviction. + +Different subjects beguiled the time, till the closing evening admonished +them to return home; and they departed reluctantly, filled with respect. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Charity.—The History of Peggy and her Family.—The Sailor’s Widow. + +I have often remarked to you, said Mrs. Mason, one morning, to her +pupils, that we are all dependent on each other; and this dependence is +wisely ordered by our Heavenly Father, to call forth many virtues, to +exercise the best affections of the human heart, and fix them into +habits. While we impart pleasure we receive it, and feel the grandeur of +our immortal soul, as it is constantly struggling to spread itself into +futurity. + +Perhaps the greatest pleasure I have ever received, has arisen from the +habitual exercise of charity, in its various branches: the view of a +distressed object has made me now think of conversing about one branch of +it, that of giving alms. + +You know Peggy, the young girl whom I wish to have most about my person; +I mean, I wish it for her own sake, that I may have an opportunity of +improving her mind, and cultivating a good capacity. As to attendance, I +never give much trouble to any fellow-creature; for I choose to be +independent of caprice and artificial wants; unless indeed, when I am +sick; then, I thankfully receive the assistance I would willingly give to +others in the same situation. I believe I have not in the world a more +faithful friend than Peggy; and her earnest desire to please me gratifies +my benevolence, for I always observe with delight the workings of a +grateful heart. + +I lost a darling child, said Mrs. Mason, smothering a sigh, in the depth +of winter—death had before deprived me of her father, and when I lost my +child—he died again. + +The wintery prospects suiting the temper of my soul, I have sat looking +at a wide waste of trackless snow for hours; and the heavy sullen fog, +that the feeble rays of the sun could not pierce, gave me back an image +of my mind. I was unhappy, and the sight of dead nature accorded with my +feelings—for all was dead to me. + +As the snow began to melt, I took a walk, and observed the birds hopping +about with drooping wings, or mute on the leafless boughs. The mountain, +whose sides had lost the snow, looked black; yet still some remained on +the summit, and formed a contrast to diversify the dreary prospect. + +I walked thoughtfully along, when the appearance of a poor man, who did +not beg, struck me very forcibly. His shivering limbs were scarcely +sheltered from the cold by the tattered garments that covered him; and he +had a sharp, famished look. I stretched out my hand with some relief in +it, I would not enquire into the particulars of such obvious distress. +The poor wretch caught my hand, and hastily dropping on his knees, +thanked me in an extacy, as if he had almost lost sight of hope, and was +overcome by the sudden relief. His attitude, for I cannot bear to see a +fellow-creature kneel, and eager thanks, oppressed my weak spirits, so +that I could not for a moment ask him any more questions; but as soon as +I recollected myself, I learned from him the misfortunes that had reduced +him to such extreme distress, and he hinted, that I could not easily +guess the good I had done. I imagined from this hint that he was +meditating his own destruction when I saw him, to spare himself the +misery of seeing his infant perish,—starved to death, in every sense of +the word. + +I will now hasten to the sequel of the account. His wife had lately had +a child, she was very ill at the time, and want of proper food, and a +defence against the inclemency of the weather, hurried her out of the +world. The poor child, Peggy, had sucked in disease and nourishment +together, and now even that wretched source had failed—the breast was +cold that had afforded the scanty support; and the little innocent +smiled, unconscious of its misery. I sent for her, added Mrs. Mason, and +her father dying a few years after, she has ever been a favourite charge +of mine, and nursing of her, in some measure, dispelled the gloom in +which I had been almost lost.—Ah! my children, you know not how many, +‘houseless heads bide the pitiless storm!’ + +I received soon after a lesson of resignation from a poor woman, who was +a practical philosopher. + +She had lost her husband, a sailor, and lost his wages also, as she could +not prove his death. She came to me to beg some pieces of silk, to make +some pin-cushions for the boarders of a neighbouring school. Her lower +weeds were patched with different coloured rags; but they spoke not +variety of wretchedness, on the contrary, they shewed a mind so content, +that want, and bodily pain, did not prevent her thinking of the opinion +of casual observers. This woman lost a husband and a child suddenly, and +her daily bread was precarious.—I cheered the widow’s heart, and my own +was not quite solitary. + +But I am growing melancholy, whilst I am only desirous of pointing out to +you how very beneficial charity is—because it enables us to find comfort +when all our worldly comforts are blighted: besides, when our bowels +yearn to our fellow-creatures, we feel that the love of God dwelleth in +us—and then we cannot always go on our way sorrowing. + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Visit to Mrs. Trueman.—The Use of Accomplishments.—Virtue the Soul of +all. + +In the afternoon they visited Mrs. Trueman unexpectedly, and found her +sitting in the garden playing to her children, who danced on the green +sod. She approached to receive them, and laid aside her guitar; but, +after some conversation, Mrs. Mason desired her to take it up again, and +the girls joined in the request. While she was singing Mary whispered +Mrs. Mason, that she would give the world to be able to sing as well. +The whisper was not so low but a part of it reached Mrs. Trueman’s ears, +who said to her, smiling, my young friend, you value accomplishments much +too highly—they may give grace to virtue—but are nothing without solid +worth.—Indeed, I may say more, for any thing like perfection in the arts +cannot be attained, where a relish; nay, a delight in what is true and +noble is wanting. A superficial observer may be pleased with a picture +in which fine colours predominate; and quick movements in music may +tickle the ear, though they never reach the heart: but it is the simple +strain which affection animates, that we listen to with interest and +delight. Mr. Trueman has a taste for the fine arts; and I wish in every +thing to be his companion. His conversation has improved my judgment, +and the affection an intimate knowledge of his virtues has inspired, +increases the love which I feel for the whole human race. He lives +retired from the world; to amuse him after the business of the day is +over, and my babes asleep, I sing to him. A desire to please, and the +pleasure I read in his eyes, give to my music energy and tenderness. +When he is ruffled by worldly cares, I try to smooth his wrinkled brow, +and think mine a voice of melody, when it has had that effect. + +Very true, replied Mrs. Mason, accomplishments should be cultivated to +render us pleasing to our domestic friends; virtue is necessary; it must +ever be the foundation of our peace and usefulness; but when we are +capable of affection, we wish to have something peculiar to ourselves. +We study the taste of our friends, and endeavour to conform to it; but, +in doing so, we ought rather to improve our own abilities than servilely +to copy theirs. Observe, my dear girls, Mrs. Trueman’s distinction, her +accomplishments are for her friends, her virtues for the world in +general. + +I should think myself vain, and my soul little, answered Mrs. Trueman, if +the applause of the whole world, on the score of abilities, which did not +add any real lustre to my character, could afford me matter of +exultation. The approbation of my own heart, the humble hope of pleasing +the Most High, elevates my soul; and I feel, that in a future state, I +may enjoy an unspeakable degree of happiness, though I now only +experience a faint foretaste. Next to these sublime emotions, which I +cannot describe, and the joy resulting from doing good; I am happy when I +can amuse those I love; it is not then vanity, but tenderness, that spurs +me on, and my songs, my drawings, my every action, has something of my +heart in it. When I can add to the innocent enjoyments of my children, +and improve them at the same time, are not my accomplishments of use? In +the same style, when I vary the pleasures of my fire-side, I make my +husband forget that it is a lonely one; and he returns to look for +elegance at home, elegance that he himself gave the polish to; and which +is only affected, when it does not flow from virtuous affections. + +I beg your pardon, I expatiate too long on my favourite topic; my desire +to rectify your notions must plead my excuse. + +Mr. Trueman now joined them, and brought with him some of his finest +fruit. After tea Mrs. Trueman shewed them some of her drawings; and, to +comply with their repeated request, played on the harpsichord, and Mr. +Trueman took his violin to accompany her. Then the children were +indulged with a dance, each had her favourite tune played in turn. + +As they returned home, the girls were eagerly lavishing praises on Mrs. +Trueman; and Mary said, I cannot tell why, but I feel so glad when she +takes notice of me. I never saw any one look so good-natured, cried +Caroline. Mrs. Mason joined in the conversation. You justly remarked +that she is good-natured; you remember her history, she loves truth, and +she is ever exercising benevolence and love—from the insect, that she +avoids treading on, her affection may be traced to that Being who lives +for ever.—And it is from her goodness her agreeable qualities spring. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The Benefit of bodily Pain.—Fortitude the Basis of Virtue.—The Folly of +Irresolution. + +The children had been playing in the garden for some time, whilst Mrs. +Mason was reading alone. But she was suddenly alarmed by the cries of +Caroline, who ran into the room in great distress. Mary quickly +followed, and explaining the matter said, that her sister had +accidentally disturbed some wasps, who were terrified, and of course +stung her. Remedies were applied to assuage the pain; yet all the time +she uttered the loudest and most silly complaints, regardless of the +uneasiness she gave those who were exerting themselves to relieve her. + +In a short time the smart abated, and then her friend thus addressed her, +with more than usual gravity. I am sorry to see a girl of your age weep +on account of bodily pain; it is a proof of a weak mind—a proof that you +cannot employ yourself about things of consequence. How often must I +tell you that the Most High is educating us for eternity? + +‘The term virtue, comes from a word signifying strength. Fortitude of +mind is, therefore, the basis of every virtue, and virtue belongs to a +being, that is weak in its nature, and strong only in will and +resolution.’ + +Children early feel bodily pain, to habituate them to bear the conflicts +of the soul, when they become reasonable creatures. This, I say, is the +first trial, and I like to see that proper pride which strives to conceal +its sufferings. Those who, when young, weep if the least trifle annoys +them, will never, I fear, have sufficient strength of mind, to encounter +all the miseries that can afflict the body, rather than act meanly to +avoid them. Indeed, this seems to be the essential difference between a +great and a little mind: the former knows how to endure—whilst the latter +suffers an immortal soul to be depressed, lost in its abode; suffers the +inconveniences which attack the one to overwhelm the other. The soul +would always support the body, if its superiority was felt, and +invigorated by exercise. The Almighty, who never afflicts but to produce +some good end, first sends diseases to children to teach them patience +and fortitude; and when by degrees they have learned to bear them, they +have acquired some virtue. + +In the same manner, cold or hunger, when accidentally encountered, are +not evils; they make _us feel what wretches feel_, and teach us to be +tender-hearted. Many of your fellow-creatures daily bear what you cannot +for a moment endure without complaint. Besides, another advantage arises +from it, after you have felt hunger, you will not be very anxious to +choose the particular kind of food that is to satisfy it. You will then +be freed from a frivolous care. + +When it is necessary to take a nauseous draught, swallow it at once, and +do not make others sick whilst you are hesitating, though you know that +you ought to take it. If a tooth is to be drawn, or any other +disagreeable operation to be performed, determine resolutely that it +shall be done immediately; and debate not, when you clearly see the step +that you ought to take. If I see a child act in this way, I am ready to +embrace it, my soul yearns for it—I perceive the dawning of a character +that will be useful to society, as it prepares its soul for a nobler +field of action. + +Believe me, it is the patient endurance of pain, that will enable you to +resist your passions; after you have borne bodily pain, you will have +firmness enough to sustain the still more excruciating agonies of the +mind. You will not, to banish momentary cares, plunge into dissipation, +nor to escape a present inconvenience, forget that you should hold fast +virtue as the only substantial good. + +I should not value the affection of a person who would not bear pain and +hunger to serve me; nor is that benevolence warm, which shrinks from +encountering difficulties, when it is necessary, in order to be useful to +any fellow-creature. + +There is a just pride, a noble ambition in some minds, that I greatly +admire. I have seen a little of it in Mary! for whilst she pities +others, she imagines that she could bear their inconveniences herself; +and she seems to feel more uneasiness, when she observes the sufferings +of others, than I could ever trace on her countenance under the immediate +pressure of pain. + +Remember you are to bear patiently the infirmities of the weakest of your +fellow-creatures; but to yourselves you are not to be equally indulgent. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Journey to London. + +The girls were visibly improved; an air of intelligence began to animate +Caroline’s fine features; and benevolence gave her eyes the humid sparkle +which is so beautiful and engaging. The interest that we take in the +fate of others, attaches them to ourselves;—thus Caroline’s goodness +inspired more affection than her beauty. + +Mary’s judgment grew every day clearer; or, more properly speaking, she +acquired experience; and her lively feelings fixed the conclusions of +reason in her mind. Whilst Mrs. Mason was rejoicing in their apparent +improvement, she received a letter from their father, requesting her to +allow his daughters to spend the winter in town, as he wished to procure +them the best masters, an advantage that the country did not afford. +With reluctance she consented, determining to remain with them a short +time; and preparations were quickly made for the journey. + +The wished for morning arrived, and they set off in a tumult of spirits; +sorry to leave the country, yet delighted with the prospect of visiting +the metropolis. This hope soon dried the tears which had bedewed their +cheeks; for the parting with Mrs. Mason was not anticipated. The +autumnal views were new to them; they saw the hedges exhibit various +colours, and the trees stripped of their leaves; but they were not +disposed to moralize. + +For some time after their arrival, every thing they saw excited wonder +and admiration; and not till they were a little familiarized with the new +objects, did they ask reasonable questions. + +Several presents recruited their purses; and they requested Mrs. Mason to +allow them to buy some trifles they were in want of. The request was +modest, and she complied. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Charity.—Shopping.—The distressed Stationer.—Mischievous Consequences of +delaying Payment. + +As they walked in search of a shop, they both determined to purchase +pocket-books; but their friend desired them not to spend all their money +at once, as they would meet many objects of charity in the numerous +streets of the metropolis. I do not wish you, she continued, to relieve +every beggar that you casually meet; yet should any one attract your +attention, obey the impulse of your heart, which will lead you to pay +them for exercising your compassion, and do not suffer the whispers of +selfishness, that they may be impostors, to deter you. However, I would +have you give but a trifle when you are not certain the distress is real, +and reckon it given for pleasure. I for my part would rather be deceived +five hundred times, than doubt once without reason. + +They stopped at a small shop, Mrs. Mason always sought out such; for, +said she, I may help those who perhaps want assistance; bargains I never +seek, for I wish every one to receive the just value for their goods. + +In the shop which they chanced to enter, they did not find the kind of +pocket-book that they had previously fixed on, and therefore wished +precipitately to leave it; but were detained by their more considerate +friend. While they had been turning over the trinkets, the countenance +of the woman, who served them, caught her eye, and she observed her eager +manner of recommending the books. You have given much unnecessary +trouble, said she, to the mistress of the shop; the books are better, and +more expensive than you intended to purchase, but I will make up the +deficiency. A beam of pleasure enlivened the woman’s swollen eyes; and +Mrs. Mason, in the mild accents of compassion, said, if it is not an +impertinent question, will you tell me from what cause your visible +distress arises? perhaps I may have it in my power to relieve you.—The +woman burst into tears.—Indeed, Madam, you have already relieved me; for +the money you have laid out will enable me to procure some food for my +poor little grandchildren, and to send a meal to their poor father, who +is now confined for debt, though a more honest man never breathed. Ah! +Madam, I little thought I should come to this—Yesterday his wife died, +poor soul! I really believe things going so cross broke her heart. He +has been in jail these five months; I could not manage the shop, or buy +what was proper to keep up the credit of it, so business has been +continually falling off; yet, if his debts were paid, he would now be +here, and we should have money in our pockets. And what renders it more +provoking, the people who owe us most are very rich. It is true, they +live in such a very high style, and keep such a number of horses and +servants, that they are often in want of money, and when they have it, +they mostly have some freak in their heads, and do not think of paying +poor trades-people. At first we were afraid to ask for payment lest we +should lose their custom, and so it proved; when we did venture, forced +by necessity, they sent to other shops, without discharging our demand. + +And, my dear Madam, this is not all my grief; my son, before his +misfortunes, was one of the most sober, industrious young men in London; +but now he is not like the same man. He had nothing to do in the jail, +and to drive away care he learned to drink; he said it was a comfort to +forget himself, and he would add an oath—I never heard him swear till +then. I took pains when he was a child to teach him his prayers, and he +rewarded me by being a dutiful son. The case is quite altered now—he +seems to have lost all natural affection—he heeds not his mother’s +tears.—Her sobs almost suffocated her, as she strove to go on—He will +bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave—and yet I pity my poor boy, +he is shut up with such a number of profligate wretches, who laugh at +what is right. Every farthing I send him he spends in liquor, and used +to make his poor wife pawn her clothes to buy him drink—she was happy to +die, it was well for her not to live to hear the babe she gave suck to +despise her! + +A passion of tears relieved the sufferer, and she called her +grandchildren; these innocent babes, said she, I shall not be able to +keep them, they must go to the workhouse. If the quality did but know +what they make us poor industrious people suffer—surely they would be +more considerate. + +Mrs. Mason gave her something to supply her present wants, and promised +to call on her again before she left town. + +They walked silently down two or three streets; I hope you have learned +to think, my dear girls, said Mrs. Mason, and that your hearts have felt +the emotions of compassion; need I make any comments on the situation of +the poor woman we have just left. You perceive that those who neglect to +pay their debts, do more harm than they imagine; perhaps, indeed, some of +these very people do, what is called, a noble action, give away a large +sum, and are termed generous; nay, very probably, weep at a tragedy, or +when reading an affecting tale. They then boast of their +sensibility—when, alas! neglecting the foundation of all virtue, +_justice_, they have occasioned exquisite distress;—led a poor wretch +into vice; heaped misery on helpless infancy, and drawn tears from the +aged widow. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Visit to a poor Family in London.—Idleness the Parent of +Vice.—Prodigality and Generosity incompatible.—The Pleasures of +Benevolence.—True and false Motives for saving. + +After the impression which the story, and the sight of the family had +made, was a little worn off; Caroline begged leave to buy one toy, and +then another, till her money was quite gone. When Mrs. Mason found it +was all expended, she looked round for an object in distress; a poor +woman soon presented herself, and her meagre countenance gave weight to +her tale.—A babe, as meagre, hung at her breast, which did not seem to +contain sufficient moisture to wet its parched lips. + +On enquiry they found that she lodged in a neighbouring garret. Her +husband had been out of employment a long time, and was now sick. The +master who had formerly given him work, lost gradually great part of his +business; for his best customers were grown so fond of foreign articles, +that his goods grew old in the warehouse. Consequently a number of hands +were dismissed, who not immediately finding employment elsewhere, were +reduced to the most extreme distress. The truth of this account a +reputable shopkeeper attested; and he added that many of the unhappy +creatures, who die unpitied at the gallows, were first led into vice by +accidental idleness. + +They ascended the dark stairs, scarcely able to bear the bad smells that +flew from every part of a small house, that contained in each room a +family, occupied in such an anxious manner to obtain the necessaries of +life, that its comforts never engaged their thoughts. The precarious +meal was snatched, and the stomach did not turn, though the cloth, on +which it was laid, was died in dirt. When to-morrow’s bread is +uncertain, who thinks of cleanliness? Thus does despair increase the +misery, and consequent disease aggravate the horrors of poverty! + +They followed the woman into a low garret, that was never visited by the +chearful rays of the sun.—A man, with a sallow complexion, and long +beard, sat shivering over a few cinders in the bottom of a broken grate, +and two more children were on the ground, half naked, near him, breathing +the same noxious air. The gaiety natural to their age, did not animate +their eyes, half sunk in their sockets; and, instead of smiles, premature +wrinkles had found a place in their lengthened visages. Life was nipped +in the bud; shut up just as it began to unfold itself. ‘A frost, a +killing frost,’ had destroyed the parent’s hopes; they seemed to come +into the world only to crawl half formed,—to suffer, and to die. + +Mrs. Mason desired the girls to relieve the family; Caroline hung down +her head abashed—wishing the paltry ornaments which she had thoughtlessly +bought, in the bottom of the sea. Mary, meanwhile, proud of the new +privilege, emptied her purse; and Caroline, in a supplicating tone, +entreated Mrs. Mason to allow her to give her neck-handkerchief to the +little infant. + +Mrs. Mason desired the woman to call on her the next day; and they left +the family cheered by their bounty. + +Caroline expected the reproof that soon proceeded from the mouth of her +true friend. I am glad that this accident has occurred, to prove to you +that prodigality and generosity are incompatible. Economy and +self-denial are necessary in every station, to enable us to be generous, +and to act conformably to the rules of justice. + +Mary may this night enjoy peaceful slumbers; idle Fancies, foolishly +indulged, will not float in her brain; she may, before she closes her +eyes, thank God, for allowing her to be His instrument of mercy. Will +the trifles that you have purchased, afford you such heartfelt delight, +Caroline? + +Selfish people save to gratify their own caprices and appetites; the +benevolent curb both, to give scope to the nobler feelings of the human +heart. When we squander money idly, we defraud the poor, and deprive our +own souls of their most exalted food. If you wish to be useful, govern +your desires, and wait not till distress obtrudes itself—search it out. +In the country it is not always attended with such shocking circumstances +as at present; but in large cities, many garrets contain families, +similar to those we have seen this afternoon. The money spent in +indulging the vain wishes of idleness, and a childish fondness for pretty +things not regulated by reason, would relieve the misery that my soul +shrinks back from contemplating. + + [Picture: Economy and self-denial are necessary in every station] + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Mrs. Mason’s farewell Advice to her young Friends. + +The day before Mrs. Mason was to leave her pupils, she took a hand of +each, and pressing them tenderly in her own, tears started into her +eyes—I tremble for you, my dear girls, for you must now practise by +yourselves some of the virtues which I have been endeavouring to +inculcate; and I shall anxiously wait for the summer, to see what +progress you have made by yourselves. + +We have conversed on several very important subjects; pray do not forget +the conclusions I have drawn. I now, as my last present, give you a +book, in which I have written the subjects that we have discussed. Recur +frequently to it, for the stories illustrating the instruction it +contains, you will not feel in such a great degree the want of my +personal advice. Some of the reasoning you may not thoroughly +comprehend, but, as your understandings ripen, you will feel its full +force. + +Avoid anger; exercise compassion; and love truth. Recollect, that from +religion your chief comfort must spring, and never neglect the duty of +prayer. Learn from experience the comfort that arises from making known +your wants and sorrows to the wisest and best of Beings, in whose hands +are the issues, not only of this life, but of that which is to come. + +Your father will allow you a certain stipend; you have already _felt_ the +pleasure of doing good; ever recollect that the wild pursuits of fancy +must be conquered, to enable you to gratify benevolent wishes, and that +you must practise economy in trifles to have it in your power to be +generous on great occasions. And the good you intend to do, do +quickly;—for know that a trifling duty neglected, is a great fault, and +the present time only is at your command. + +You are now candidates for my friendship, and on your advancement in +virtue my regard will in future depend. Write often to me, I will +punctually answer your letters; but let me have the genuine sentiments of +your hearts. In expressions of affection and respect, do not deviate +from truth to gain what you wish for, or to turn a period prettily. + +Adieu! when you think of your friend, observe her precepts; and let the +recollection of my affection, give additional weight to the truths which +I have endeavoured to instill; and, to reward my care, let me hear that +you love and practice virtue. + + * * * * * + + FINIS. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT'S ORIGINAL +STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 36507-0.txt or 36507-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/5/0/36507 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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V. Lucas, Illustrated by William Blake + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mary Wollstonecraft's Original Stories + + +Author: Mary Wollstonecraft + +Editor: E. V. Lucas + +Release Date: June 24, 2011 [eBook #36507] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT'S ORIGINAL +STORIES*** +</pre> +<p>This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/front.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Look what a fine morning it is . . . Insects, Birds, & +Animals, are all enjoying existence" +title= +"Look what a fine morning it is . . . Insects, Birds, & +Animals, are all enjoying existence" +src="images/front.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>MARY<br /> +WOLLSTONECRAFT’S<br /> +ORIGINAL<br /> +STORIES</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">WITH FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br /> +WILLIAM BLAKE</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">WITH AN INTRODUCTION<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br /> +E. V. LUCAS</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +HENRY FROWDE<br /> +1906</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="pageii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. ii</span><span class="GutSmall">OXFORD: HORACE +HART</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY</span></p> +<h2><a name="pageiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +iii</span>EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p>The germ of the <i>Original Stories</i> was, I imagine, a +suggestion (in the manner of publishers) from Mary +Wollstonecraft’s employer, Johnson of St. Paul’s +Churchyard, that something more or less in the manner of Mrs. +Trimmer’s <i>History of the Robins</i>, the great nursery +success of 1786, might be a profitable speculation. For I +doubt if the production of a book for children would ever have +occurred spontaneously to an author so much more interested in +the status of women and other adult matters. However, the +idea being given her, she quickly wrote the book—in 1787 or +1788—carrying out in it to a far higher power, in Mrs. +Mason, the self-confidence and rectitude of Mrs. Trimmer’s +leading lady, Mrs. Benson, who in her turn had been preceded by +that other flawless instructor of youth, Mr. Barlow. None +of these exemplars could do wrong; but the Mrs. Mason whom we +meet in the following pages far transcends the others in +conscious merit. Mrs. Benson in the <i>History of the +Robins</i> (with the author of which Mary Wollstonecraft was on +friendly terms) was sufficiently like the Protagonist of the Old +Testament to be, when among Mrs. Wilson’s bees, +‘excessively pleased with the ingenuity and industry <a +name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. iv</span>with which +these insects collect their honey and wax, form their cells, and +deposit their store’; but Mrs. Mason, as we shall see, went +still farther.</p> +<p>It has to be remembered that the <i>Original Stories</i> were +written when the author was twenty-nine, five years before she +met Gilbert Imlay and six years before her daughter Fanny Imlay +was born. I mention this fact because it seems to me to be +very significant. I feel that had the book been written +after Fanny’s birth, or even after the Imlay infatuation, +it would have been somewhat different: not perhaps more +entertaining, because its author had none of that imaginative +sympathy with the young which would direct her pen in the +direction of pure pleasure for them; but more human, more kindly, +better. One can have indeed little doubt as to this after +reading those curious first lessons for an infant which came from +Mary Wollstonecraft’s pen in or about 1795, (printed in +volume two of the <i>Posthumous Works</i>, 1798), and which give +evidence of so much more tenderness and reasonableness (and at +the same time want of Reason, which may have been Godwin’s +God but will never stand in that relation either to English men +or English children) than the monitress of the <i>Original +Stories</i>, the impeccable Mrs. Mason, ever suggests. I +know of no early instance where a mother talks down to an infant +more prettily: continually descending herself to its level, yet +never with any of Mrs. Mason’s arrogance and +superiority. Not indeed that this poor mother, <a +name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. v</span>with her +impulsive warm heart wounded, and most of her illusions gone, and +few kindly eyes resting upon her, could ever have compassed much +of Mrs. Mason’s prosperous self-satisfaction and authority +had she wished to; for in the seven years between the composition +of the <i>Original Stories</i> and the lessons for the minute +Fanny Imlay, she had lived an emotional lifetime, and suffering +much, pitied much.</p> +<p>In Lesson X, which I quote, although it says nothing of +charity or kindness, a vastly more human spirit is found than in +any of Mrs. Mason’s homilies on our duty to the +afflicted:—</p> +<blockquote><p>See how much taller you are than William. In +four years you have learned to eat, to walk, to talk. Why +do you smile? You can do much more, you think: you can wash +your hands and face. Very well. I should never kiss a +dirty face. And you can comb your head with the pretty comb +you always put by in your own drawer. To be sure, you do +all this to be ready to take a walk with me. You would be +obliged to stay at home, if you could not comb your own +hair. Betty is busy getting the dinner ready, and only +brushes William’s hair, because he cannot do it for +himself.</p> +<p>Betty is making an apple-pye. You love an apple-pye; but +I do not bid you make one. Your hands are not strong enough +to mix the butter and flour together; and you must not try to +pare the apples, because you cannot manage a great knife.</p> +<p>Never touch the large knives: they are very sharp, and you +might cut your finger to the bone. You are a little girl, +and ought to have a little knife. When you are as tall as I +am, you shall have a knife as <a name="pagevi"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. vi</span>large as mine; and when you are as +strong as I am, and have learned to manage it, you will not hurt +yourself.</p> +<p>You can trundle a hoop, you say; and jump over a stick. +O, I forgot!—and march like men in the red coats, when papa +plays a pretty tune on the fiddle.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Even a very little of the tender spirit that this lesson +breathes, even a very little of its sense of play, would have +leavened the <i>Original Stories</i> into a more wholesome +consistency. As it stands, that book is one of the most +perfect examples of the success with which, a century or more +ago, any ingratiating quality could be kept out of a work for the +young. According to William Godwin, his unhappy wife had +always a pretty and endearing way with children. Yet of +pretty and endearing ways, as of humour, I take him to have been +a bad judge; for I do not think that any woman possessing enough +sympathy to attach children to her as he, in one of the most +curious biographies in the language, assures us that she had, +could have suppressed the gift so completely in her first book +for young minds. And the Mrs. Masonic character of her own +Preface supports my view.</p> +<p>I do not wish to suggest that previous to 1787 Mary +Wollstonecraft had been a stranger to suffering. Far from +it. Her life had known little joy. Her father’s +excesses, her mother’s grief and poverty, her +sister’s misfortunes, her own homelessness, and, to crown +all, the death of her close friend Frances Blood, must have +dimmed if not obliterated most of her <a name="pagevii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. vii</span>happy impulses. But it is one +thing to suffer bereavement and to be anxious about the troubles +of others near and dear; and it is quite another to suffer +oneself by loving, even to a point of personal disaster, and then +losing both that love and the friendliness (such as it was) of +the world. Imlay’s desertion and the birth of Fanny +were real things beside which a drunken father, unhappy sisters, +and a dead friend were mere trifles.</p> +<p>This little book is to my mind chiefly interesting for two +reasons apart from its original purpose—for the light it +throws on the attitude of the nursery authors of that day towards +children, and for the character of Mrs. Mason, a type of the +dominant British character, in petticoats, here for the first +time (so far as my reading goes) set on paper.</p> +<p>I have no information regarding the success of the <i>Original +Stories</i> in their day, and such spirited efforts as are now +made to obtain them by collectors are, we know, due rather to +Blake than to Mary Wollstonecraft; but any measure of popularity +that they may have enjoyed illustrates the awful state of slavery +in which the children of the seventeen-nineties must have +subsisted. It is indeed wonderful to me to think that only +a poor hundred years ago such hard and arid presentations of +adult perfection and infantile incapacity should have been +considered, even by capable writers, all that the intelligence of +children needed or their tender inexperience deserved. I do +not deny that children are not to-day too much <a +name="pageviii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +viii</span>considered: indeed, I think that they are: I think +there is now an unfortunate tendency to provide them with +literature in such variety as to anticipate, and possibly +supplant, the most valuable natural workings of their minds in +almost every direction; but such activity at any rate indicates a +desire on the part of the writers of these books to understand +their readers, whereas I can detect none in the <i>Original +Stories</i> or in hundreds of kindred works of that day. +<i>Sandford and Merton</i> and Mrs. Trimmer’s book stand +apart: there is much humanity and imaginative sympathy in both; +but with the majority of nursery authors, to fling down a +collection of homilies was sufficient.</p> +<p>The odd thing is that every one was equally thoughtless: it is +not merely that Mary Wollstonecraft should consider such an +intellectual stone as Chapter XV worth preparing for poor little +fellow creatures that needed bread; but that her publisher +Johnson should consider it the kind of thing to send forth, and +that, with artists capable of dramatic interest available, he +should hand the commission to illustrate it to William Blake, +who, exquisitely charming as were his drawings for his own +<i>Songs</i>, was as yet in no sense of the word an ingratiating +illustrator of narratives of real life for young eyes. And +there still remains the parent or friend who, picking up the book +in a shop, considered it the kind of thing to strike a bliss into +the soul of Master Henry or Miss Susan as a birthday +present. <a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +ix</span>It is all, at this date, so incredible, so shortsighted, +so cruel, one could almost say. No one seems to have tried +at all: the idea of wooing a child was not in the +air—certainly Mary Wollstonecraft had none of it.</p> +<p>Who it was that first discerned the child to be a thing of +joy, a character apart worth coming to without patronage, a +flower, a fairy, I cannot say. But Blake, in his writings, +had much to do with the discovery, and Wordsworth perhaps +more. Certain, however, is it that Mary Wollstonecraft, +even if she had glimmerings of this truth, had no more; and those +she suppressed when the pen was in her hand.</p> +<p>I might remark here that the circumstance that Blake’s +drawings for Salzmann’s <i>Elements of Morality</i>, which +Mary Wollstonecraft translated in 1791, also for Johnson, are +more interesting and dramatic, is due to the fact that he merely +adapted the work of the German artist. Blake was uniformly +below himself in this kind of employment. Only in the rapt +freedoms of the angelic harper in his hut, in the picture +opposite page 56 of the present work, does he approach his true +genius; while in his conception of Mrs. Mason I have no +confidence. Not slim and willowy and pensive was she in my +mental picture of her: I figure a matron of sterner stuff and +solider build.</p> +<p>But having said this against the <i>Original Stories</i>, I +have said all, for as the casket enshrining Mrs. Mason its value +remains unassailable.</p> +<p>It was well for Mrs. Mason that Mary Wollstonecraft <a +name="pagex"></a><span class="pagenum">p. x</span>set her on +paper in 1788. Had she waited until the <i>Vindication of +the Rights of Women</i> was written in 1792 (and dedicated to +Talleyrand), had she waited until little Fanny Imlay was born +into a stony world, Mrs. Mason would never have been. +Because it is the likes of Mrs. Mason that keep the rights of +women, as Mary Wollstonecraft saw them, in the background, and +demand the production of marriage lines. Mrs. Mason would +have been the first to regret the unwomanliness of the +publication both of the book and of the baby. The Preface +to this book suggests that Mary Wollstonecraft was at that time, +before she had loved and lost and suffered, something of a Mrs. +Mason herself; but Mrs. Mason remained Masonic to the end, +whereas poor Mary’s heart and mind were always in +conflict. She may have loved pure Reason, but she loved +Gilbert Imlay too. And this Mrs. Mason never did.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason never nods. Her tact, her mental reaction, +her confidence, her sense of duty and knowledge of duty, are +alike marvellous. When the higher mercy compels her to end +a wounded lark’s misery by putting her foot on its head, +she ‘turns her own the other way’. At the close +of a walk during which her charges have been +‘rational’, she shakes hands with them. Her +highest praise to Mary, after the fruit-picking incident on page +40, is to call her ‘my friend’; ‘and she +deserved the name,’ adds the lady, ‘for she was no +longer a child.’ No child could be her friend. +One wonders what she made of the <a name="pagexi"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xi</span>beautiful words ‘Suffer the +little children to come unto Me . . . for of such is the kingdom +of Heaven’; but of course she did not know them: her +Testament was obviously the Old.</p> +<p>Yet we have, as it happens, a comment on Christ’s +remark, in her statement on page 8, made in one of her recurring +monologues on superiority and inferiority, that it is ‘only +to animals that children <i>can</i> do good’. Mrs. +Mason’s expression of alarm and dismay on hearing the words +‘A little child shall lead them’ could be drawn +adequately, one feels, only by Mary Wollstonecraft’s friend +Fuseli.</p> +<p>‘I govern my servants and you,’ said Mrs. Mason, +‘by attending strictly to truth, and this observance +keeping my head clear and my heart pure, I am ever ready to pray +to the Author of Good, the Fountain of truth.’ She +never paid unmeaning compliments, (and here it is interesting to +compare the second paragraph of Mary Wollstonecraft’s +Preface, where she plays at being a Mrs. Mason too), or permitted +any word to drop from her tongue that her heart did not +dictate. Hence she allowed Mrs. Trimmer’s <i>History +of the Robins</i> to be lent to a little girl, only on condition +that the little girl should be made to understand that birds +cannot really talk. She had in her garden, although large, +only one bed of tulips, because the tulip flaunts, whereas the +rose, of which she had a profusion, is modest. That God +made both does not seem to have troubled her. She thought +that the poor who were willing to work <a +name="pagexii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xii</span>‘had +a right to the comforts of life’. During a +thunderstorm she walked with the same security as when the sun +enlivened the prospect, since her love of virtue had overcome her +fear of death. She was weaned from the world, ‘but +not disgusted.’ When she visited those who have been +reduced from their original place in society by misfortunes, she +made such alterations in her dress as would suggest ceremony, +lest too much familiarity should appear like disrespect. +She forbade Caroline to cry when in pain, because the Most High +was educating her for eternity. She thought that all +diseases were sent to children by the Almighty to teach them +patience and fortitude. She never sought bargains, wishing +every one to receive the just value for their goods; and when her +two charges at last left her, to return to their father, she +dismissed them with the words, ‘You are now candidates for +my friendship, and on your advancement in virtue my regard will +in future depend.’</p> +<p>The great fault of Mrs. Mason is that she had none. One +seems to understand why her own children and husband died so +quickly.</p> +<p>Since I have read this little book a new kind of nightmare has +come into my slumbers: I dream that I am walking with Mrs. +Mason. The greatness and goodness of Mrs. Mason surround +me, dominate me, suffocate me. With head erect, vigilant +eye, and a smile of assurance and tolerance on her massive +features, she sails on and on, holding my <a +name="pagexiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xiii</span>neatly-gloved hand, discoursing ever of the infinite +mercy of God, the infinite paltriness of myself, and the infinite +success of Mrs. Mason. I think that Mrs. Mason’s most +terrible characteristic to me (who have never been quite sure of +anything) is the readiness with which her decisions spring +fully-armed from her brain. She knows not only everything, +but herself too: she has no doubts. Here she joins hands +with so much that is most triumphant in the British +character. The Briton also is without doubts. He +marches forward. He is right. It is when I +contemplate him in this mood—and Mrs. Mason too—that +I most wonder who my ancestors can have been.</p> +<p>The awful reality of Mrs. Mason proves that Mary +Wollstonecraft, had she known her own power and kept her mental +serenity, might have been a great novelist. Mrs. Mason was +the first and strongest British Matron. She came before +Mrs. Proudie, and also, it is interesting to note, before Sir +Willoughby Patterne. But she was, I fear, an accident; for +there is nothing like her in our author’s one experiment in +adult fiction, <i>The Wrongs of Woman</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">E. V. LUCAS.</p> +<h2><a name="pagexiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xiv</span>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>Look what a fine morning it is.—Insects, Birds, and +Animals, are all enjoying existence.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>Frontispiece</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Indeed we are very happy!</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>to face page</i> <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page36">36</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Be calm, my child, remember that you must do all the good +you can the present day</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>to face page</i> <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page46">46</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Trying to trace the sound, I discovered a little hut, +rudely built</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>to face page</i> <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page56">56</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Economy and Self-denial are necessary, in every station, +to enable us to be generous</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>to face page</i> <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page86">86</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="pagexv"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xv</span> +<a href="images/origtp.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Facsimile of the title page of the 1791 edition" +title= +"Facsimile of the title page of the 1791 edition" +src="images/origtp.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2><a name="pagexvii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xvii</span>PREFACE</h2> +<p>These conversations and tales are accommodated to the present +state of society; which obliges the author to attempt to cure +those faults by reason, which might never to have taken root in +the infant mind. Good habits, imperceptibly fixed, are far +preferable to the precepts of reason; but, as this task requires +more judgment than generally falls to the lot of parents, +substitutes must be sought for, and medicines given, when regimen +would have answered the purpose much better. I believe +those who examine their own minds, will readily agree with me, +that reason, with difficulty, conquers settled habits, even when +it is arrived at some degree of maturity: why then do we suffer +children to be bound with fetters, which their half-formed +faculties cannot break.</p> +<p>In writing the following work, I aim at perspicuity and +simplicity of style; and try to avoid those unmeaning +compliments, which slip from the tongue, but have not the least +connexion with the affections that should warm the heart, and +animate the conduct. By this false politeness, sincerity is +sacrificed, and truth violated; and thus artificial manners are +necessarily taught. For true politeness is a polish, not a +varnish; and should rather be acquired by observation than +admonition. And we may remark, by way <a +name="pagexviii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xviii</span>of +illustration, that men do not attempt to polish precious stones, +till age and air have given them that degree of solidity, which +will enable them to bear the necessary friction, without +destroying the main substance.</p> +<p>The way to render instruction most useful cannot always be +adopted; knowledge should be gradually imparted, and flow more +from example than teaching: example directly addresses the +senses, the first inlets to the heart; and the improvement of +those instruments of the understanding is the object education +should have constantly in view, and over which we have most +power. But to wish that parents would, themselves, mould +the ductile passions, is a chimerical wish, for the present +generation have their own passions to combat with, and fastidious +pleasures to pursue, neglecting those pointed out by nature: we +must therefore pour premature knowledge into the succeeding one; +and, teaching virtue, explain the nature of vice. Cruel +necessity!</p> +<p>The Conversations are intended to assist the teacher as well +as the pupil; and this will obviate an objection which some may +start, that the sentiments are not quite on a level with the +capacity of a child. Every child requires a different mode +of treatment; but a writer can only choose one, and that must be +modified by those who are actually engaged with young people in +their studies.</p> +<p>The tendency of the reasoning obviously tends to fix +principles of truth and humanity on a solid and <a +name="pagexix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xix</span>simple +foundation; and to make religion an active, invigorating director +of the affections, and not a mere attention to forms. +Systems of Theology may be complicated, but when the character of +the Supreme Being is displayed, and He is recognised as the +Universal Father, the Author and Centre of Good, a child may be +led to comprehend that dignity and happiness must arise from +imitating Him; and this conviction should be twisted +into—and be the foundation of every inculcated duty.</p> +<p>At any rate, the Tales, which were written to illustrate the +moral, may recall it, when the mind has gained sufficient +strength to discuss the argument from which it was deduced.</p> +<h2><a name="pagexx"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xx</span>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p>Mary and Caroline, though the children of wealthy parents +were, in their infancy, left entirely to the management of +servants, or people equally ignorant. Their mother died +suddenly, and their father, who found them very troublesome at +home, placed them under the tuition of a woman of tenderness and +discernment, a near relation, who was induced to take on herself +the important charge through motives of compassion.</p> +<p>They were shamefully ignorant, considering that Mary had been +fourteen, and Caroline twelve years in the world. If they +had been merely ignorant, the task would not have appeared so +arduous; but they had caught every prejudice that the vulgar +casually instill. In order to eradicate these prejudices, +and substitute good habits instead of those they had carelessly +contracted, Mrs. Mason never suffered them to be out of her +sight. They were allowed to ask questions on all occasions, +a method she would not have adopted, had she educated them from +the first, according to the suggestions of her own reason, to +which experience had given its sanction.</p> +<p>They had tolerable capacities; but Mary had a turn for +ridicule, and Caroline was vain of her person. She was, +indeed, very handsome, and the inconsiderate encomiums that had, +in her presence, been lavished on her beauty made her, even at +that early age, affected.</p> +<h2><a name="pagexxi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xxi</span>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER I</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Treatment of Animals.—The Ant.—The +Bee.—Goodness.—The Lark’s Nest.—The +Asses</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER II</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Treatment of Animals.—The Difference between +them and Man.—The Parental Affection of a +Dog.—Brutality punished</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page6">6</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER III</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Treatment of Animals.—The Story of crazy +Robin.—The Man confined in the Bastille</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Anger.—History of Jane Fretful</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page14">14</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER V</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Lying.—Honour.—Truth.—Small +Duties.—History of Lady Sly and Mrs. Trueman</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Anger.—Folly produces Self-contempt</i>, <i>and +the Neglect of others</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Virtue the Soul of Beauty.—The Tulip and the +Rose.—The Nightingale.—External +Ornaments.—Characters</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page27">27</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><a +name="pagexxii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xxii</span>CHAPTER +VIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Summer Evening’s Amusement.—The Arrival of +a Family of Haymakers.—Ridicule of personal Defects +censured.—A Storm.—The Fear of Death.—The +Cottage of Honest Jack</i>, <i>the shipwrecked Sailor.—The +History of Jack</i>, <i>and his faithful Dog Pompey</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page31">31</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IX</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Inconveniences of immoderate Indulgence</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page37">37</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER X</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Danger of Delay.—Description of a +Mansion-house in Ruins.—History of Charles Townley</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page40">40</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Dress.—A Character.—Remarks on Mrs. +Trueman’s Manner of Dressing.—Trifling Omissions +undermine Affection</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page47">47</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Behaviour to Servants.—True Dignity of +Character</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page50">50</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Employment.—Idleness produces Misery.—The +Cultivation of the Fancy raises us above the Vulgar</i>, +<i>extends our Happiness</i>, <i>and leads to Virtue</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Innocent Amusements.—Description of a Welch +Castle.—History of a Welch Harper.—A tyrannical +Landlord.—Family Pride</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page55">55</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><a +name="pagexxiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xxiii</span>CHAPTER +XV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Prayer.—A Moon-light +Scene.—Resignation</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page60">60</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The History +of the Village School-mistress.—Fatal Effects of +Inattention to Expense</i>, <i>in the History of Mr. +Lofty</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page64">64</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The History +of the Village School-mistress concluded</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page67">67</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>A Visit to the School-mistress.—True and False +Pride</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page69">69</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIX</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Charity.—The History of Peggy and her +Family.—The Sailor’s Widow</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page71">71</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XX</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Visit to Mrs. Trueman.—The Use of +Accomplishments.—Virtue the Soul of all</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page74">74</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>The Benefit of bodily Pain.—Fortitude the Basis +of Virtue.—The Folly of Irresolution</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page77">77</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Journey to London</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page79">79</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><a +name="pagexxiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xxiv</span>CHAPTER +XXIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Charity.—Shopping.—The distressed +Stationer.—Mischievous Consequences of delaying +Payment</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Visit to a Poor Family in London.—Idleness the +Parent of Vice.—Prodigality and Generosity +incompatible.—The Pleasures of Benevolence.—True and +false Motives for Saving</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page84">84</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><i>Mrs. Mason’s farewell Advice to her +Pupils.—Observations on Letter-writing</i></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page86">86</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>MORAL +CONVERSATIONS AND STORIES</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The treatment of animals.—The +ant.—The bee.—Goodness.—The lark’s +nest.—The asses.</p> +<p>One fine morning in spring, some time after Mary and Caroline +were settled in their new abode, Mrs. Mason proposed a walk +before breakfast, a custom she wished to teach imperceptibly, by +rendering it amusing.</p> +<p>The sun had scarcely dispelled the dew that hung on every +blade of grass, and filled the half-shut flowers; every prospect +smiled, and the freshness of the air conveyed the most pleasing +sensations to Mrs. Mason’s mind; but the children were +regardless of the surrounding beauties, and ran eagerly after +some insects to destroy them. Mrs. Mason silently observed +their cruel sports, without appearing to do it; but stepping +suddenly out of the foot-path into the long grass, her buckle was +caught in it, and striving to disentangle herself, she wet her +feet; which the children knew she wished to avoid, as she had +been lately sick. This circumstance roused their attention; +and they forgot their amusement to enquire why she had left the +path; and Mary could hardly restrain a laugh, when she was +informed that it was to avoid treading on some snails that were +creeping across the narrow footway. Surely, said Mary, you +do not think there is any harm in killing a snail, or any of <a +name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>those nasty +creatures that crawl on the ground? I hate them, and should +scream if one was to find its way from my clothes to my +neck! With great gravity, Mrs. Mason asked how she dared to +kill any thing, unless it were to prevent its hurting her? +Then, resuming a smiling face, she said, Your education has been +neglected, my child; as we walk along attend to what I say, and +make the best answers you can; and do you, Caroline, join in the +conversation.</p> +<p>You have already heard that God created the world, and every +inhabitant of it. He is then called the Father of all +creatures; and all are made to be happy, whom a good and wise God +has created. He made those snails you despise, and +caterpillars, and spiders; and when He made them, did not leave +them to perish, but placed them where the food that is most +proper to nourish them is easily found. They do not live +long, but He who is their Father, as well as your’s, +directs them to deposit their eggs on the plants that are fit to +support their young, when they are not able to get food for +themselves.—And when such a great and wise Being has taken +care to provide every thing necessary for the meanest creature, +would you dare to kill it, merely because it appears to you +ugly? Mary began to be attentive, and quickly followed Mrs. +Mason’s example, who allowed a caterpillar and a spider to +creep on her hand. You find them, she rejoined, very +harmless; but a great number would destroy our vegetables and +fruit; so birds are permitted to eat them, as we feed on animals; +and in spring there are always more than at any other season of +the year, to furnish food for the young broods.—Half +convinced, Mary said, but worms are of little consequence in the +world. Yet, replied Mrs. Mason, God cares for them, and +gives them every thing that is necessary to render their +existence comfortable. <a name="page3"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 3</span>You are often troublesome—I am +stronger than you—yet I do not kill you.</p> +<p>Observe those ants; they have a little habitation in yonder +hillock; they carry food to it for their young, and sleep very +snug in it during the cold weather. The bees also have +comfortable towns, and lay up a store of honey to support them +when the flowers die, and snow covers the ground: and this +forecast is as much the gift of God, as any quality you +possess.</p> +<p>Do you know the meaning of the word Goodness? I see you +are unwilling to answer. I will tell you. It is, +first, to avoid hurting any thing; and then, to contrive to give +as much pleasure as you can. If some insects are to be +destroyed, to preserve my garden from desolation, I have it done +in the quickest way. The domestic animals that I keep, I +provide the best food for, and never suffer them to be tormented; +and this caution arises from two motives:—I wish to make +them happy; and, as I love my fellow-creatures still better than +the brute creation, I would not allow those that I have any +influence over, to grow habitually thoughtless and cruel, till +they were unable to relish the greatest pleasure life +affords,—that of resembling God, by doing good.</p> +<p>A lark now began to sing, as it soared aloft. The +children watched its motions, listening to the artless +melody. They wondered what it was thinking of—of its +young family, they soon concluded; for it flew over the hedge, +and drawing near, they heard the young ones chirp. Very +soon both the old birds took their flight together, to look for +food to satisfy the craving of the almost fledged young. An +idle boy, who had borrowed a gun, fired at them—they fell; +and before he could take up the wounded pair, he perceived Mrs. +Mason; and expecting a very <a name="page4"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 4</span>severe reprimand, ran away. She +and the little girls drew near, and found that one was not much +hurt; but that the other, the cock, had one leg broken, and both +its wings shattered; and its little eyes seemed starting out of +their sockets, it was in such exquisite pain. The children +turned away their eyes. Look at it, said Mrs. Mason; do you +not see that it suffers as much, and more than you did when you +had the small-pox, when you were so tenderly nursed. Take +up the hen; I will bind her wing together; perhaps it may +heal. As to the cock, though I hate to kill any thing, I +must put him out of pain; to leave him in his present state would +be cruel; and avoiding an unpleasant sensation myself, I should +allow the poor bird to die by inches, and call this treatment +tenderness, when it would be selfishness or weakness. +Saying so, she put her foot on the bird’s head, turning her +own another way.</p> +<p>They walked on; when Caroline remarked, that the nestlings, +deprived of their parents, would now perish; and the mother began +to flutter in her hand as they drew near the hedge, though the +poor creature could not fly, yet she tried to do it. The +girls, with one voice, begged Mrs. Mason to let them take the +nest, and provide food in a cage, and see if the mother could not +contrive to hop about to feed them. The nest and the old +mother were instantly in Mary’s handkerchief. A +little opening was left to admit the air; and Caroline peeped +into it every moment to see how they looked. I give you +leave, said Mrs. Mason, to take those birds, because an accident +has rendered them helpless; if that had not been the case, they +should not have been confined.</p> +<p>They had scarcely reached the next field, when they met +another boy with a nest in his hand, and on a tree near him saw +the mother, who, forgetting her <a name="page5"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 5</span>natural timidity, followed the +spoiler; and her intelligible tones of anguish reached the ears +of the children, whose hearts now first felt the emotions of +humanity. Caroline called him, and taking sixpence out of +her little purse, offered to give it to him for the nest, if he +would shew her where he had taken it from. The boy +consented, and away ran Caroline to replace it,—crying all +the way, how delighted the old bird will be to find her brood +again. The pleasure that the parent-bird would feel was +talked of till they came to a large common, and heard some young +asses, at the door of an hovel, making a most dreadful +noise. Mrs. Mason had ordered the old ones to be confined, +lest the young should suck before the necessary quantity had been +saved for some sick people in her neighbourhood. But after +they had given the usual quantity of milk, the thoughtless boy +had left them still in confinement, and the young in vain +implored the food nature designed for their particular +support. Open the hatch, said Mrs. Mason, the mothers have +still enough left to satisfy their young. It was opened, +and they saw them suck.</p> +<p>Now, said she, we will return to breakfast; give me your +hands, my little girls, you have done good this morning, you have +acted like rational creatures. Look, what a fine morning it +is. Insects, birds, and animals, are all enjoying this +sweet day. Thank God for permitting you to see it, and for +giving you an understanding which teaches you that you ought, by +doing good, to imitate Him. Other creatures only think of +supporting themselves; but man is allowed to ennoble his nature, +by cultivating his mind and enlarging his heart. He feels +disinterested love; every part of the creation affords an +exercise for virtue, and virtue is ever the truest source of +pleasure.</p> +<h3><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>CHAPTER +II</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The treatment of animals.—The difference +between them and man.—Parental affection of a +dog.—Brutality punished.</p> +<p>After breakfast, Mrs. Mason gave the children <i>Mrs. +Trimmer’s Fabulous Histories</i>; and the subject still +turned on animals, and the wanton cruelty of those who treated +them improperly. The little girls were eager to express +their detestation, and requested that in future they might be +allowed to feed the chickens. Mrs. Mason complied with +their request; only one condition was annexed to the permission, +that they did it regularly. When you wait for your food, +you learn patience, she added, and you can mention your wants; +but those helpless creatures cannot complain. The country +people frequently say,—How can you treat a poor dumb beast +ill; and a stress is very properly laid on the word +dumb;—for dumb they appear to those who do not observe +their looks and gestures; but God, who takes care of every thing, +understands their language; and so did Caroline this morning, +when she ran with such eagerness to re-place the nest which the +thoughtless boy had stolen, heedless of the mother’s +agonizing cries!</p> +<p>Mary interrupted her, to ask, if insects and animals were not +inferior to men; Certainly, answered Mrs. Mason; and men are +inferior to angels; yet we have reason to believe, that those +exalted beings delight to do us good. You have heard in a +book, which I seldom permit you to read, because you are not of +an age to understand it, that angels, when they sang glory to God +on high, wished for peace on earth, as a proof of the good will +they felt towards <a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +7</span>men. And all the glad tidings that have been sent +to men, angels have proclaimed: indeed, the word angel signifies +a messenger. In order to please God, and our happiness +depends upon pleasing him, we must do good. What we call +virtue, may be thus explained:—we exercise every benevolent +affection to enjoy comfort here, and to fit ourselves to be +angels hereafter. And when we have acquired human virtues, +we shall have a nobler employment in our Father’s +kingdom. But between angels and men a much greater +resemblance subsists, than between men and the brute creation; +because the two former seem capable of improvement.</p> +<p>The birds you saw to-day do not improve—or their +improvement only tends to self-preservation; the first nest they +make and the last are exactly the same; though in their flights +they must see many others more beautiful if not more convenient, +and, had they reason, they would probably shew something like +individual taste in the form of their dwellings; but this is not +the case. You saw the hen tear the down from her breast to +make a nest for her eggs; you saw her beat the grain with her +bill, and not swallow a bit, till the young were satisfied; and +afterwards she covered them with her wings, and seemed perfectly +happy, while she watched over her charge; if any one approached, +she was ready to defend them, at the hazard of her life: yet, a +fortnight hence, you will see the same hen drive the fledged +chickens from the corn, and forget the fondness that seemed to be +stronger than the first impulse of nature.</p> +<p>Animals have not the affections which arise from reason, nor +can they do good, or acquire virtue. Every affection, and +impulse, which I have observed in them, are like our inferior +emotions, which do not depend entirely on our will, but are +involuntary; <a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span>they seem to have been implanted to preserve the species, +and make the individual grateful for actual kindness. If +you caress and feed them, they will love you, as children do, +without knowing why; but we neither see imagination nor wisdom in +them; and, what principally exalts man, friendship and devotion, +they seem incapable of forming the least idea of. +Friendship is founded on knowledge and virtue, and these are +human acquirements; and devotion is a preparation for eternity; +because when we pray to God, we offer an affront to him, if we do +not strive to imitate the perfections He displays every where for +our imitation, that we may grow better and happier.</p> +<p>The children eagerly enquired in what manner they were to +behave, to prove that they were superior to animals? The +answer was short,—be tender-hearted; and let your superior +endowments ward off the evils which they cannot foresee. It +is only to animals that children <i>can</i> do good, men are +their superiors. When I was a child, added their tender +friend, I always made it my study and delight, to feed all the +dumb family that surrounded our house; and when I could be of use +to any one of them I was happy. This employment humanized +my heart, while, like wax, it took every impression; and +Providence has since made me an instrument of good—I have +been useful to my fellow-creatures. I, who never wantonly +trod on an insect, or disregarded the plaint of the speechless +beast, can now give bread to the hungry, physic to the sick, +comfort to the afflicted, and, above all, am preparing you, who +are to live for ever, to be fit for the society of angels, and +good men made perfect. This world, I told you, was a road +to a better—a preparation for it; if we suffer, we grow +humbler and wiser: but animals have not this <a +name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>advantage, and +man should not prevent their enjoying all the happiness of which +they are capable.</p> +<p>A she-cat or dog have such strong parental affection, that if +you take away their young, it almost kills them; some have +actually died of grief when all have been taken away; though they +do not seem to miss the greatest part.</p> +<p>A bitch had once all her litter stolen from her, and drowned +in a neighbouring brook: she sought them out, and brought them +one by one, laid them at the feet of her cruel master;—and +looking wistfully at them for some time, in dumb anguish, turning +her eyes on the destroyer, she expired!</p> +<p>I myself knew a man who had hardened his heart to such a +degree, that he found pleasure in tormenting every creature whom +he had any power over. I saw him let two guinea-pigs roll +down sloping tiles, to see if the fall would kill them. And +were they killed? cried Caroline. Certainly; and it is well +they were, or he would have found some other mode of +torment. When he became a father, he not only neglected to +educate his children, and set them a good example, but he taught +them to be cruel while he tormented them: the consequence was, +that they neglected him when he was old and feeble; and he died +in a ditch.</p> +<p>You may now go and feed your birds, and tie some of the +straggling flowers round the garden sticks. After dinner, +if the weather continues fine, we will walk to the wood, and I +will shew you the hole in the lime-stone mountain (a mountain +whose bowels, as we call them, are lime-stones) in which poor +crazy Robin and his dog lived.</p> +<h3><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>CHAPTER III</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The treatment of animals.—The story of +crazy Robin.—The man confined in the Bastille.</p> +<p>In the afternoon the children bounded over the short grass of +the common, and walked under the shadow of the mountain till they +came to a craggy part; where a stream broke out, and ran down the +declivity, struggling with the huge stones which impeded its +progress, and occasioned a noise that did not unpleasantly +interrupt the solemn silence of the place. The brook was +soon lost in a neighbouring wood, and the children turned their +eyes to the broken side of the mountain, over which ivy grew in +great profusion. Mrs. Mason pointed out a little cave, and +desired them to sit down on some stumps of trees, whilst she +related the promised story.</p> +<p>In yonder cave once lived a poor man, who generally went by +the name of crazy Robin. In his youth he was very +industrious, and married my father’s dairy-maid; a girl +deserving of such a good husband. For some time they +continued to live very comfortably; their daily labour procured +their daily bread; but Robin, finding it was likely he should +have a large family, borrowed a trifle, to add to the small +pittance which they had saved in service, and took a little farm +in a neighbouring county. I was then a child.</p> +<p>Ten or twelve years after, I heard that a crazy man, who +appeared very harmless, had piled by the side of the brook a +great number of stones; he would wade into the river for them, +followed by a cur dog, whom he would frequently call his Jacky, +and even his Nancy; and then mumble to himself,—thou wilt +not leave me—we will dwell with the <a +name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>owls in the +ivy.—A number of owls had taken shelter in it. The +stones which he waded for he carried to the mouth of the hole, +and only just left room enough to creep in. Some of the +neighbours at last recollected his face; and I sent to enquire +what misfortune had reduced him to such a deplorable state.</p> +<p>The information I received from different persons, I will +communicate to you in as few words as I can.</p> +<p>Several of his children died in their infancy; and, two years +before he came to his native place, one misfortune had followed +another till he had sunk under their accumulated weight. +Through various accidents he was long in arrears to his landlord; +who, seeing that he was an honest man, who endeavoured to bring +up his family, did not distress him; but when his wife was +lying-in of her last child, the landlord dying, his heir sent and +seized the stock for the rent; and the person from whom he had +borrowed some money, exasperated to see all gone, arresting him +immediately, he was hurried to gaol, without being able to leave +any money for his family. The poor woman could not see them +starve, and trying to support her children before she had gained +sufficient strength, she caught cold; and through neglect, and +her want of proper nourishment, her illness turned to a putrid +fever; which two of the children caught from her, and died with +her. The two who were left, Jacky and Nancy, went to their +father, and took with them a cur dog, that had long shared their +frugal meals.</p> +<p>The children begged in the day, and at night slept with their +wretched father. Poverty and dirt soon robbed their cheeks +of the roses which the country air made bloom with a peculiar +freshness; so that they soon caught a jail fever,—and +died. <a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>The poor father, who was now bereft of all his children, +hung over their bed in speechless anguish; not a groan or a tear +escaped from him, whilst he stood, two or three hours, in the +same attitude, looking at the dead bodies of his little +darlings. The dog licked his hands, and strove to attract +his attention; but for awhile he seemed not to observe his +caresses; when he did, he said, mournfully, thou wilt not leave +me—and then he began to laugh. The bodies were +removed; and he remained in an unsettled state, often frantic; at +length the phrenzy subsided, and he grew melancholy and +harmless. He was not then so closely watched; and one day +he contrived to make his escape, the dog followed him, and came +directly to his native village.</p> +<p>After I had received this account, I determined he should live +in the place he had chosen, undisturbed. I sent some +conveniences, all of which he rejected, except a mat; on which he +sometimes slept—the dog always did. I tried to induce +him to eat, but he constantly gave the dog whatever I sent him, +and lived on haws and blackberries, and every kind of +trash. I used to call frequently on him; and he sometimes +followed me to the house I now live in, and in winter he would +come of his own accord, and take a crust of bread. He +gathered water-cresses out of the pool, and would bring them to +me, with nosegays of wild thyme, which he plucked from the sides +of the mountain. I mentioned before, that the dog was a +cur. It had, indeed, the bad trick of a cur, and would run +barking after horses heels. One day, when his master was +gathering water-cresses, the dog running after a young +gentleman’s horse, made it start, and almost threw the +rider; who grew so angry, that though he knew it was the poor +madman’s dog, he levelled his gun at his <a +name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span>head—shot him,—and instantly rode off. +Robin ran to his dog,—he looked at his wounds, and not +sensible that he was dead, called to him to follow him; but when +he found that he could not, he took him to the pool, and washed +off the blood before it began to clot, and then brought him home, +and laid him on the mat.</p> +<p>I observed that I had not seen him pacing up the hills as +usual, and sent to enquire about him. He was found sitting +by the dog, and no entreaties could prevail on him to quit the +body, or receive any refreshment. I instantly set off for +this place, hoping, as I had always been a favourite, that I +should be able to persuade him to eat something. But when I +came to him, I found the hand of death was upon him. He was +still melancholy; yet there was not such a mixture of wildness in +it as formerly. I pressed him to take some food; but, +instead of answering me, or turning away, he burst into +tears,—a thing I had never seen him do before, and, +sobbing, he said, Will any one be kind to me!—you will kill +me!—I saw not my wife die—No!—they dragged me +from her—but I saw Jacky and Nancy die—and who pitied +me?—but my dog! He turned his eyes to the +body—I wept with him. He would then have taken some +nourishment, but nature was exhausted—and he expired.</p> +<p>Was that the cave? said Mary. They ran to it. Poor +Robin! Did you ever hear of any thing so cruel? Yes, +answered Mrs. Mason; and as we walk home I will relate an +instance of still greater barbarity.</p> +<p>I told you, that Robin was confined in a jail. In France +they have a dreadful one, called the Bastille. The poor +wretches who are confined in it live entirely alone; have not the +pleasure of seeing men or animals; nor are they allowed +books.—They live in <a name="page14"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 14</span>comfortless solitude. Some have +amused themselves by making figures on the wall; and others have +laid straws in rows. One miserable captive found a spider; +he nourished it for two or three years; it grew tame, and partook +of his lonely meal. The keeper observed it, and mentioned +the circumstance to a superiour, who ordered him to crush +it. In vain did the man beg to have his spider +spared. You find, Mary, that the nasty creature which you +despised was a comfort in solitude. The keeper obeyed the +cruel command; and the unhappy wretch felt more pain when he +heard the crush, than he had ever experienced during his long +confinement. He looked round a dreary apartment, and the +small portion of light which the grated bars admitted, only +served to shew him, that he breathed where nothing else drew +breath.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Anger.—History of Jane Fretful.</p> +<p>A few days after these walks and conversations, Mrs. Mason +heard a great noise in the play-room. She ran hastily to +enquire the cause, and found the children crying, and near them, +one of the young birds lying on the floor dead. With great +eagerness each of them tried, the moment she entered, to +exculpate herself, and prove that the other had killed the +bird. Mrs. Mason commanded them to be silent; and, at the +same time, called an orphan whom she had educated, and desired +her to take care of the nest.</p> +<p>The cause of the dispute was easily gathered from what they +both let fall. They had contested which had the best right +to feed the birds. Mary insisted <a name="page15"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 15</span>that she had a right, because she was +the eldest; and Caroline, because she took the nest. +Snatching it from one side of the room to the other, the bird +fell, and was trodden on before they were aware.</p> +<p>When they were a little composed, Mrs. Mason calmly thus +addressed them:—I perceive that you are ashamed of your +behaviour, and sorry for the consequence; I will not therefore +severely reprove you, nor add bitterness to the self-reproach you +must both feel,—because I pity you. You are now +inferiour to the animals that graze on the common; reason only +serves to render your folly more conspicuous and +inexcusable. Anger, is a little despicable vice: its +selfish emotions banish compassion, and undermine every +virtue. It is easy to conquer another; but noble to subdue +oneself. Had you, Mary, given way to your sister’s +humour, you would have proved that you were not only older, but +wiser than her. And you, Caroline, would have saved your +charge, if you had, for the time, waved your right.</p> +<p>It is always a proof of superiour sense to bear with slight +inconveniences, and even trifling injuries, without complaining +or contesting about them. The soul reserves its firmness +for great occasions, and then it acts a decided part. It is +just the contrary mode of thinking, and the conduct produced by +it, which occasions all those trivial disputes that slowly +corrode domestic peace, and insensibly destroy what great +misfortunes could not sweep away.</p> +<p>I will tell you a story, that will take stronger hold on your +memory than mere remarks.</p> +<p>Jane Fretful was an only child. Her fond weak mother +would not allow her to be contradicted on any occasion. The +child had some tenderness of heart; but so accustomed was she to +see every thing give way to her humour, that she imagined the +world <a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>was +only made for her. If any of her playfellows had toys, that +struck her capricious sickly fancy, she would cry for them; and +substitutes were in vain offered to quiet her, she must have the +identical ones, or fly into the most violent passion. When +she was an infant, if she fell down, her nurse made her beat the +floor. She continued the practice afterwards, and when she +was angry would kick the chairs and tables, or any senseless +piece of furniture, if they came in her way. I have seen +her throw her cap into the fire, because some of her acquaintance +had a prettier.</p> +<p>Continual passions weakened her constitution; beside, she +would not eat the common wholesome food that children, who are +subject to the small-pox and worms, ought to eat, and which is +necessary when they grow so fast, to make them strong and +handsome. Instead of being a comfort to her tender, though +mistaken, mother, she was her greatest torment. The +servants all disliked her; she loved no one but herself; and the +consequence was, she never inspired love; even the pity +good-natured people felt, was nearly allied to contempt.</p> +<p>A lady, who visited her mother, brought with her one day a +pretty little dog. Jane was delighted with it; and the +lady, with great reluctance, parted with it to oblige her +friend. For some time she fondled, and really felt +something like an affection for it: but, one day, it happened to +snatch a cake she was going to eat, and though there were twenty +within reach, she flew into a violent passion, and threw a stool +at the poor creature, who was big with pup. It fell down; I +can scarcely tell the rest; it received so severe a blow, that +all the young were killed, and the poor wretch languished two +days, suffering the most excruciating torture.</p> +<p>Jane Fretful, who was now angry with herself, sat <a +name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>all the time +holding it, and every look the miserable animal gave her, stung +her to the heart. After its death she was very unhappy; but +did not try to conquer her temper. All the blessings of +life were thrown away on her; and, without any real misfortune, +she was continually miserable.</p> +<p>If she had planned a party of pleasure, and the weather proved +unfavourable, the whole day was spent in fruitless repining, or +venting her ill-humour on those who depended on her. If no +disappointment of that kind occurred, she could not enjoy the +promised pleasure; something always disconcerted her; the horses +went too fast, or, too slow; the dinner was ill-dressed, or, some +of the company contradicted her.</p> +<p>She was, when a child, very beautiful; but anger soon +distorted her regular features, and gave a forbidding fierceness +to her eyes. But if for a moment she looked pleased, she +still resembled a heap of combustible matter, to which an +accidental spark might set fire; of course quiet people were +afraid to converse with her. And if she ever did a good, or +a humane action, her ridiculous anger soon rendered it an +intolerable burden, if it did not entirely cancel it.</p> +<p>At last she broke her mother’s heart, or hastened her +death, by her want of duty, and her many other faults: all +proceeding from violent, unrestrained anger.</p> +<p>The death of her mother, which affected her very much, left +her without a friend. She would sometimes say, Ah! my poor +mother, if you were now alive, I would not teaze you—I +would give the world to let you know that I am sorry for what I +have done: you died, thinking me ungrateful; and lamenting that I +did not die when you gave me suck. I shall never—oh! +never see you more.</p> +<p>This thought, and her peevish temper, preyed on <a +name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>her impaired +constitution. She had not, by doing good, prepared her soul +for another state, or cherished any hopes that could disarm death +of its terrors, or render that last sleep sweet—its +approach was dreadful!—and she hastened her end, scolding +the physician for not curing her. Her lifeless countenance +displayed the marks of convulsive anger; and she left an ample +fortune behind her to those who did not regret her loss. +They followed her to the grave, on which no one shed a +tear. She was soon forgotten; and I only remember her, to +warn you to shun her errors.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Lying.—Honour.—Truth.—Small +Duties.—History of Lady Sly, and Mrs. Trueman.</p> +<p>The little girls were very assiduous to gain Mrs. +Mason’s good opinion; and, by the mildness of their +behaviour, to prove to her that they were ashamed of +themselves. It was one of Mrs. Mason’s rules, when +they offended her, that is, behaved improperly, to treat them +civilly; but to avoid giving them those marks of affection which +they were particularly delighted to receive.</p> +<p>Yesterday, said she to them, I only mentioned to you one +fault, though I observed two. You very readily guess I mean +the lie that you both told. Nay, look up, for I wish to see +you blush; and the confusion which I perceive in your faces gives +me pleasure; because it convinces me that it is not a confirmed +habit: and, indeed, my children, I should be sorry that such a +mean one had taken deep root in your infant minds.</p> +<p>When I speak of falsehood, I mean every kind; <a +name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>whatever +tends to deceive, though not said in direct terms. Tones of +voice, motions of the hand or head, if they make another believe +what they ought not to believe, are lies, and of the worst kind; +because the contrivance aggravates the guilt. I would much +sooner forgive a lie told directly, when perhaps fear entirely +occupied the thoughts, and the presence of God was not felt: for +it is His sacred Majesty that you affront by telling an +untruth.</p> +<p>How so? enquired Mary.</p> +<p>Because you hope to conceal your falsehood from every human +creature: but, if you consider a moment, you must recollect, that +the Searcher of hearts reads your very thoughts; that nothing is +hid from him.</p> +<p>You would blush if I were to discover that you told a lie; yet +wantonly forfeit the favour of Him, from whom you have received +life and all its blessings, to screen yourselves from correction +or reproof, or, what is still worse, to purchase some trifling +gratification, the pleasure of which would last but a moment.</p> +<p>You heard the gentleman who visited me this morning, very +frequently use the word Honour. Honour consists in +respecting yourself; in doing as you would be done by; and the +foundation of honour is Truth.</p> +<p>When I can depend on the veracity of people, that is to say, +am convinced that they adhere to truth, I rely on them; am +certain they have courage, because I know they will bear any +inconvenience rather than despise themselves, for telling a +lie. Besides, it is not necessary to consider what you +intend to say, when you have done right. Always determine, +on every occasion, to speak the truth, and you will never be at a +loss for words. If your character for this scrupulous +attention is <a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +20</span>once fixed, your acquaintance will be courted; and those +who are not particularly pleased with you, will, at least, +respect your honourable principles. It is impossible to +form a friendship without making truth the basis; it is indeed +the essence of devotion, the employment of the understanding, and +the support of every duty.</p> +<p>I govern my servants, and you, by attending strictly to truth, +and this observance keeping my head clear and my heart pure, I am +ever ready to pray to the Author of good, the Fountain of +truth.</p> +<p>While I am discussing the subject, let me point out to you +another branch of this virtue; Sincerity.—And remember that +I every day set you an example; for I never, to please for the +moment, pay unmeaning compliments, or permit any words to drop +from my tongue, that my heart does not dictate. And when I +relate any matter of fact, I carefully avoid embellishing it, in +order to render it a more entertaining story; not that I think +such a practice absolutely criminal; but as it contributes +insensibly to wear away a respect for truth, I guard against the +vain impulse, lest I should lose the chief strength, and even +ornament, of my mind, and become like a wave of the sea, drifted +about by every gust of passion.</p> +<p>You must in life observe the most apparently insignificant +duties—the great ones are the pillars of virtue; but the +constant concurrence of trifling things, makes it necessary that +reason and conscience should always preside, to keep the heart +steady. Many people make promises, and appointments, which +they scruple not to break, if a more inviting pleasure occurs, +not remembering that the slightest duty should be performed +before a mere amusement is pursued—for any neglect of this +kind embitters <a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span>play. Nothing, believe me, can long be pleasant, +that is not innocent.</p> +<p>As I usually endeavour to recollect some persons of my +acquaintance, who have suffered by the faults, or follies, I wish +you to avoid; I will describe two characters, that will, if I +mistake not, very strongly enforce what I have been saying.</p> +<p>Last week you saw Lady Sly, who came to pay me a morning +visit. Did you ever see such a fine carriage, or such +beautiful horses? How they pawed the ground, and displayed +their rich harnesses! Her servants wore elegant liveries, +and her own clothes suited the equipage. Her house is equal +to her carriage; the rooms are lofty, and hung with silk; noble +glasses and pictures adorn them: and the pleasure-grounds are +large and well laid out; beside the trees and shrubs, they +contain a variety of summer-houses and temples, as they are +called.—Yet my young friends, this is <i>state</i>, not +<i>dignity</i>.</p> +<p>This woman has a little soul, she never attended to truth, and +obtaining great part of her fortune by falsehood, it has blighted +all her enjoyments. She inhabits that superb house, wears +the gayest clothes, and rides in that beautiful carriage, without +feeling pleasure. Suspicion, and the cares it has given +birth to, have wrinkled her countenance, and banished every trace +of beauty, which paint in vain endeavours to repair. Her +suspicious temper arises from a knowledge of her own heart, and +the want of rational employments.</p> +<p>She imagines that every person she converses with means to +deceive her; and when she leaves a company, supposes all the ill +they may say of her, because she recollects her own +practice. She listens about her house, expecting to +discover the designs of her servants, none of whom she can trust; +and in <a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +22</span>consequence of this anxiety her sleep is unsound, and +her food tasteless. She walks in her paradise of a garden, +and smells not the flowers, nor do the birds inspire her with +cheerfulness.—These pleasures are true and simple, they +lead to the love of God, and all the creatures whom He hath +made—and cannot warm a heart which a malicious story can +please.</p> +<p>She cannot pray to God;—He hates a liar! She is +neglected by her husband, whose only motive for marrying her was +to clear an incumbered estate. Her son, her only child, is +undutiful; the poor never have cause to bless her; nor does she +contribute to the happiness of any human being.</p> +<p>To kill time, and drive away the pangs of remorse, she goes +from one house to another, collecting and propagating scandalous +tales, to bring others on a level with herself. Even those +who resemble her are afraid of her; she lives alone in the world, +its good things are poisoned by her vices, and neither inspire +joy nor gratitude.</p> +<p>Before I tell you how she acquired these vicious habits, and +enlarged her fortune by disregarding truth, I must desire you to +think of Mrs. Trueman, the curate’s wife, who lives in +yonder white house, close to the church; it is a small one, yet +the woodbines and jessamins that twine about the windows give it +a pretty appearance. Her voice is sweet, her manners not +only easy, but elegant; and her simple dress makes her person +appear to the greatest advantage.</p> +<p>She walks to visit me, and her little ones hang on her hands, +and cling to her clothes, they are so fond of her. If any +thing terrifies them, they run under her apron, and she looks +like the hen taking care of her young brood. The domestic +animals play with the children, finding her a mild attentive <a +name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>mistress; and +out of her scanty fortune she contrives to feed and clothe many a +hungry shivering wretch; who bless her as she passes along.</p> +<p>Though she has not any outward decorations, she appears +superior to her neighbours, who call her the <i>Gentlewoman</i>; +indeed every gesture shews an accomplished and dignified mind, +that relies on itself; when deprived of the fortune which +contributed to polish and give it consequence.</p> +<p>Drawings, the amusement of her youth, ornament her neat +parlour; some musical instruments stand in one corner; for she +plays with taste, and sings sweetly.</p> +<p>All the furniture, not forgetting a book-case, full of +well-chosen books, speak the refinement of the owner, and the +pleasures a cultivated mind has within its own grasp, independent +of prosperity.</p> +<p>Her husband, a man of taste and learning, reads to her, while +she makes clothes for her children, whom she teaches in the +tenderest, and most persuasive manner, important truths and +elegant accomplishments.</p> +<p>When you have behaved well for some time you shall visit her, +and ramble in her little garden; there are several pretty seats +in it, and the nightingales warble their sweetest songs, +undisturbed, in the shade.</p> +<p>I have now given you an account of the present situation of +both, and of their characters; listen to me whilst I relate in +what manner these characters were formed, and the consequence of +each adhering to a different mode of conduct.</p> +<p>Lady Sly, when she was a child, used to say pert things, which +the injudicious people about her laughed at, and called very +witty. Finding that her prattle pleased, she talked +incessantly, and invented stories, when adding to those that had +some <a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +24</span>foundation, was not sufficient to entertain the +company. If she stole sweetmeats, or broke any thing, the +cat, or the dog, was blamed, and the poor animals were corrected +for her faults; nay, sometimes the servants lost their places in +consequence of her assertions. Her parents died and left +her a large fortune, and an aunt, who had a still larger, adopted +her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Trueman, her cousin, was, some years after, adopted by +the same lady; but her parents could not leave their estate to +her, as it descended to the male heir. She had received the +most liberal education, and was in every respect the reverse of +her cousin; who envied her merit, and could not bear to think of +her dividing the fortune which she had long expected to inherit +entirely herself. She therefore practised every mean art to +prejudice her aunt against her, and succeeded.</p> +<p>A faithful old servant endeavoured to open her +mistress’s eyes; but the cunning niece contrived to invent +the most infamous story of the old domestic, who was in +consequence of it dismissed. Mrs. Trueman supported her, +when she could not succeed in vindicating her, and suffered for +her generosity; for her aunt dying soon after, left only five +hundred pounds to this amiable woman, and fifty thousand to Lady +Sly.</p> +<p>They both of them married shortly after. One, the +profligate Lord Sly, and the other a respectable clergyman, who +had been disappointed in his hopes of preferment. This last +couple, in spite of their mutual disappointments, are contented +with their lot; and are preparing themselves and children for +another world, where truth, virtue and happiness dwell +together.</p> +<p>For believe me, whatever happiness we attain in this life, +must faintly resemble what God Himself <a name="page25"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 25</span>enjoys, whose truth and goodness +produce a sublime degree, such as we cannot conceive, it is so +far above our limited capacities.</p> +<p>I did not intend to detain you so long, said Mrs. Mason; have +you finished <i>Mrs. Trimmer’s Fabulous +Histories</i>? Indeed we have, answered Caroline, +mournfully, and I was very sorry to come to the end. I +never read such a pretty book; may I read it over again to Mrs. +Trueman’s little Fanny? Certainly, said Mrs. Mason, +if you can make her understand that birds never talk. Go +and run about the garden, and remember the next lie I detect, I +shall punish; because lying is a vice;—and I ought to +punish you if you are guilty of it, to prevent your feeling Lady +Sly’s misery.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Anger.—Folly produces Self-contempt, and +the Neglect of others.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason had a number of visitors one afternoon, who +conversed in the usual thoughtless manner which people often fall +into who do not consider before they speak; they talked of +Caroline’s beauty, and she gave herself many affected airs +to make it appear to the best advantage. But Mary, who had +not a face to be proud of, was observing some peculiarities in +the dress or manners of the guests; and one very respectable old +lady, who had lost her teeth, afforded her more diversion than +any of the rest.</p> +<p>The children went to bed without being reproved, though Mrs. +Mason, when she dismissed them, said gravely, I give you to-night +a kiss of peace, an affectionate one you have not deserved. +They therefore discovered by her behaviour that they had done <a +name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>wrong, and +waited for an explanation to regain her favour.</p> +<p>She was never in a passion, but her quiet steady displeasure +made them feel so little in their own eyes, they wished her to +smile that they might be something; for all their consequence +seemed to arise from her approbation. I declare, said +Caroline, I do not know what I have done, and yet I am sure I +never knew Mrs. Mason find fault without convincing me that I had +done wrong. Did you, Mary, ever see her in a passion? +No, said Mary, I do believe that she was never angry in her life; +when John threw down all the china, and stood trembling, she was +the first to say that the carpet made him stumble. Yes, now +I do remember, when we first came to her house, John forgot to +bring the cow and her young calf into the cow-house; I heard her +bid him do it directly, and the poor calf was almost frozen to +death—she spoke then in a hurry, and seemed angry. +Now you mention it, I do recollect, replied Caroline, that she +was angry, when Betty did not carry the poor sick woman the broth +she ordered her to take to her. But this is not like the +passion I used to see nurse in, when any thing vexed her. +She would scold us, and beat the girl who waited on her. +Poor little Jenny, many a time was she beaten, when we vexed +nurse; I would tell her she was <not> to blame now if I saw +her—and I would not tease her any more.</p> +<p>I declare I cannot go to sleep, said Mary, I am afraid of Mrs. +Mason’s eyes—would you think, Caroline, that she who +looks so very good-natured sometimes, could frighten one +so? I wish I were as wise and as good as she is. The +poor woman with the six children, whom we met on the common, said +she was an angel, and that she had saved her’s and her +children’s lives. My heart is in my mouth, <a +name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>indeed, +replied Caroline, when I think of to-morrow morning, and yet I am +much happier than I was when we were at home. I cried, I +cannot now tell for what, all day; I never wished to be +good—nobody told me what it was to be good. I wish to +be a woman, said Mary, and to be like Mrs. Mason, or Mrs. +Trueman,—we are to go to see her if we behave well.</p> +<p>Sleep soon over-powered them, and they forgot their +apprehensions. In the morning they awoke refreshed, and +took care to learn their lessons, and feed the chickens, before +Mrs. Mason left her chamber.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Virtue the Soul of Beauty.—The Tulip and +the Rose.—The Nightingale.—External +Ornaments.—Characters.</p> +<p>The next morning Mrs. Mason met them first in the garden; and +she desired Caroline to look at a bed of tulips, that were then +in their highest state of perfection. I, added she, choose +to have every kind of flower in my garden, as the succession +enables me to vary my daily prospect, and gives it the charm of +variety; yet these tulips afford me less pleasure than most of +the other sort which I cultivate—and I will tell you +why—they are only beautiful. Listen to my +distinction;—good features, and a fine complexion, I term +<i>bodily</i> beauty. Like the streaks in the tulip, they +please the eye for a moment; but this uniformity soon tires, and +the active mind flies off to something else. The soul of +beauty, my dear children, consists in the body gracefully +exhibiting the emotions and variations of the informing +mind. If truth, humanity, and knowledge inhabit the breast, +the eyes will beam with a mild lustre, modesty will suffuse the +cheeks, and smiles of innocent joy play over all the <a +name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +28</span>features. At first sight, regularity and colour +will attract, and have the advantage, because the hidden springs +are not directly set in motion; but when internal goodness is +reflected, every other kind of beauty, the shadow of it, withers +away before it—as the sun obscures a lamp.</p> +<p>You are certainly handsome, Caroline; I mean, have good +features; but you must improve your mind to give them a pleasing +expression, or they will only serve to lead your understanding +astray. I have seen some foolish people take great pains to +decorate the outside of their houses, to attract the notice of +strangers, who gazed, and passed on; whilst the inside, where +they received their friends, was dark and inconvenient. +Apply this observation to mere personal attractions. They +may, it is true, for a few years, charm the superficial part of +your acquaintance, whose notions of beauty are not built on any +principle of utility. Such persons might look at you, as +they would glance their eye over these tulips, and feel for a +moment the same pleasure that a view of the variegated rays of +light would convey to an uninformed mind. The lower class +of mankind, and children, are fond of finery; gaudy, dazzling +appearances catch their attention; but the discriminating +judgment of a person of sense requires, besides colour, order, +proportion, grace and usefulness, to render the idea of beauty +complete.</p> +<p>Observe that rose, it has all the perfections I speak of; +colour, grace, and sweetness—and even when the fine tints +fade, the smell is grateful to those who have before contemplated +its beauties. I have only one bed of tulips, though my +garden is large, but, in every part of it, roses attract the +eye.</p> +<p>You have seen Mrs. Trueman, and think her a very fine woman; +yet her skin and complexion have only <a name="page29"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 29</span>the clearness that temperance gives; +and her features, strictly speaking, are not regular: Betty, the +housemaid, has, in both these respects, much the superiority over +her. But, though it is not easy to define in what her +beauty consists, the eye follows her whenever she moves; and +every person of taste listens for the modulated sounds which +proceed out of her mouth, to be improved and pleased. It is +conscious worth, <i>truth</i>, that gives dignity to her walk, +and simple elegance to her conversation. She has, indeed, a +most excellent understanding, and a feeling heart; sagacity and +tenderness, the result of both, are happily blended in her +countenance; and taste is the polish, which makes them appear to +the best advantage. She is more than beautiful; and you see +her varied excellencies again and again, with increasing +pleasure. They are not obtruded on you, for knowledge has +taught her true humility: she is not like the flaunting tulip, +that forces itself forward into notice; but resembles the modest +rose, you see yonder, retiring under its elegant foliage.</p> +<p>I have mentioned flowers—the same order is observed in +the higher departments of nature. Think of the birds; those +that sing best have not the finest plumage; indeed just the +contrary; God divides His gifts, and amongst the feathered race +the nightingale (sweetest of warblers, who pours forth her varied +strain when sober eve comes on) you would seek in vain in the +morning, if you expected that beautiful feathers should point out +the songstress: many who incessantly twitter, and are only +tolerable in the general concert, would surpass her, and attract +your attention.</p> +<p>I knew, some time before you were born, a very fine, a very +handsome girl; I saw she had abilities, and I saw with pain that +she attended to the most obvious, <a name="page30"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 30</span>but least valuable gift of +heaven. Her ingenuity slept, whilst she tried to render her +person more alluring. At last she caught the +small-pox—her beauty vanished, and she was for a time +miserable; but the natural vivacity of youth overcame her +unpleasant feelings. In consequence of the disorder, her +eyes became so weak that she was obliged to sit in a dark +room. To beguile the tedious day she applied to music, and +made a surprising proficiency. She even began to think, in +her retirement, and when she recovered her sight grew fond of +reading.</p> +<p>Large companies did not now amuse her, she was no longer the +object of admiration, or if she was taken notice of, it was to be +pitied, to hear her former self praised, and to hear them lament +the depredation that dreadful disease had made in a fine +face. Not expecting or wishing to be observed, she lost her +affected airs, and attended to the conversation, in which she was +soon able to bear a part. In short, the desire of pleasing +took a different turn, and as she improved her mind, she +discovered that virtue, internal beauty, was valuable on its own +account, and not like that of the person, which resembles a toy, +that pleases the observer, but does not render the possessor +happy.</p> +<p>She found, that in acquiring knowledge, her mind grew +tranquil, and the noble desire of acting conformably to the will +of God succeeded, and drove out the immoderate vanity which +before actuated her, when her equals were the objects she thought +most of, and whose approbation she sought with such +eagerness. And what had she sought? To be stared at +and called handsome. Her beauty, the mere sight of it, did +not make others good, or comfort the afflicted; but after she had +lost it, she was comfortable herself, and set her friends the +most useful example.</p> +<p><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>The +money that she had formerly appropriated to ornament her person, +now clothed the naked; yet she really appeared better dressed, as +she had acquired the habit of employing her time to the best +advantage, and could make many things herself. Besides, she +did not implicitly follow the reigning fashion, for she had +learned to distinguish, and in the most trivial matters acted +according to the dictates of good sense.</p> +<p>The children made some comments on this story, but the +entrance of a visitor interrupted the conversation, and they ran +about the garden, comparing the roses and tulips.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">Summer Evening’s Amusement.—The +Arrival of a Family of Haymakers.—Ridicule of personal +Defects censured.—A Storm.—The Fear of +Death.—The Cottage of honest Jack, the shipwrecked +Sailor.—The History of Jack, and his faithful Dog +Pompey.</p> +<p>The evening was pleasant; Mrs. Mason and the children walked +out; and many rustic noises struck their ears. Some bells +in a neighbouring village, softened by the distance, sounded +pleasingly; the beetles hummed, and the children pursued them, +not to destroy them; but to observe their form, and ask questions +concerning their mode of living. Sheep were bleating and +cattle lowing, the rivulet near them babbled along, while the +sound of the distant ocean died away on the ear—or they +forgot it, listening to the whistling of the hay-makers, who were +returning from the field. They met a whole family who came +every year from another county where they could not find constant +employment, and <a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +32</span>Mrs. Mason allowed them to sleep in her barn. The +little ones knew their benefactress, and tried to catch a smile; +and she was ever ready to smile on those whom she obliged; for +she loved all her fellow creatures, and love lightens +obligations. Besides, she thought that the poor who are +willing to work, had a right to the comforts of life.</p> +<p>A few moments after, they met a deformed woman; the children +stared her almost out of countenance; but Mrs. Mason turned her +head another way, and when the poor object was out of hearing, +said to Mary, I intended to reprove you this morning for a fault +which I have frequently seen you commit; and this moment and the +other evening it was particularly conspicuous. When that +deformed woman passed us, I involuntarily looked at something +else, and would not let her perceive that she was a disgusting +figure, and attracted notice on that account. I say I did +it involuntarily, for I have accustomed myself to think of +others, and what they will suffer on all occasions: and this +lothness to offend, or even to hurt the feelings of another, is +an instantaneous spring which actuates my conduct, and makes me +kindly affected to every thing that breathes. If I then am +so careful not to wound a stranger, what shall I think of your +behaviour, Mary? when you laughed at a respectable old woman, who +beside her virtues and her age, had been particularly civil to +you. I have always seen persons of the weakest +understandings, and whose hearts benevolence seldom touched, +ridicule bodily infirmities, and accidental defects. They +could only relish the inferiour kind of beauty, which I described +this morning, and a silly joy has elated their empty souls, on +finding, by comparison, that they were superiour to others in +that respect, though the <a name="page33"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 33</span>conclusion was erroneous, for merit, +mental acquirements, can only give a just claim to +superiority. Had you possessed the smallest portion of +discernment, you would soon have forgotten the tones, loss of +teeth made drawling, in listening to the chearful good sense +which that worthy woman’s words conveyed. You +laughed, because you were ignorant, and I now excuse you; but +some years hence, if I were to see you in company, with such a +propensity, I should still think you a child, an overgrown one, +whose mind did not expand as the body grew.</p> +<p>The sky began to thicken, and the lowing of the cattle to have +a melancholy cadence; the nightingale forgot her song, and fled +to her nest; and the sea roared and lashed the rocks. +During the calm which portended an approaching storm, every +creature was running for shelter.—We must, if possible, +said Mrs. Mason, reach yon cottage on the cliff, for we shall +soon have a violent thunder-storm. They quickened their +pace, but the hurricane overtook them. The hail-stones +fell, the clouds seemed to open and disclose the lightning, while +loud peals of thunder shook the ground; the wind also in violent +gusts rushed among the trees, tore off the slender branches and +loosened the roots.</p> +<p>The children were terrified; but Mrs. Mason gave them each a +hand, and chatted with them to dispel their fears. She +informed them that storms were necessary to dissipate noxious +vapours, and to answer many other purposes, which were not, +perhaps, obvious to our weak understandings. But are you +not afraid? cried the trembling Caroline. No, certainly, I +am not afraid.—I walk with the same security as when the +sun enlivened the prospect—God is still present, and we are +safe. Should the <a name="page34"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 34</span>flash that passes by us, strike me +dead, it cannot hurt me, I fear not death!—I only fear that +Being who can render death terrible, on whose providence I calmly +rest; and my confidence earthly sorrows cannot destroy. A +mind is never truly great, till the love of virtue overcomes the +fear of death.</p> +<p>By this time they had mounted the cliff, and saw the +tumultuous deep. The angry billows rose, and dashed against +the shore; and the loud noise of the raging sea resounded from +rock to rock.</p> +<p>They ran into the cottage; the poor woman who lived in it, +sent her children for wood, and soon made a good fire to dry +them.</p> +<p>The father of the family soon after came in, leaning on +crutches; and over one eye there was a large patch. I am +glad to see you honest Jack, said Mrs. Mason, come and take your +seat by the fire, and tell the children the story of your +shipwreck.</p> +<p>He instantly complied. I was very young, my dear ladies, +said Jack, when I went to sea, and endured many +hardships,—however I made a shift to weather them all; and +whether the wind was fair or foul, I ran up the shrouds and sung +at the helm. I had always a good heart, no lad fore or aft +had a better; when we were at sea, I never was the first to +flinch; and on shore I was as merry as the best of them. I +married she you see yonder, (lifting his crutch to point to his +wife) and her work and my wages did together, till I was +shipwrecked on these rocks. Oh! it was a dreadful night; +this is nothing to it; but I am getting to the end of my story +before I begin it.</p> +<p>During the war, I went once or twice to New York. The +last was a good voyage, and we were all returning with joy to +dear England, when the storm rose; the vessel was like a bird, it +flew up and down, <a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +35</span>and several of our best hands were washed clean +overboard—My poor captain! a better never plowed the ocean, +he fell overboard too, and it was some time before we missed him; +for it was quite dark, except that flashes of lightning, now and +then, gave us light. I was at the helm, lashing it to the +side of the ship—a dreadful flash came across me, and I +lost one of my precious eyes.—But thank God I have one +left.</p> +<p>The weather cleared up next day, and, though we had been +finely mauled, I began to hope, for I hate to be faint-hearted, +and certainly we should have got into the channel very soon, if +we had not fell in with a French man of war, which took us; for +we could not make any resistance.</p> +<p>I had a dog, poor Pompey! with me. Pompey would not +leave me, he was as fond of me as if he had been a +christian. I had lost one eye by the lightning, the other +had been sore, so that I could hardly call it a peep-hole. +Somehow I fell down the hatchway, and bruised one of my legs; but +I did not mind it, do ye see, till we arrived at Brest and were +thrown into a French Prison.</p> +<p>There I was worse off than ever; the room we were all stowed +in, was full of vermin, and our food very bad; mouldy biscuits, +and salt fish. The prison was choke full, and many a +morning did we find some honest fellow with his chops +fallen—he was not to be waked any more!—he was gone +to the other country, do ye see.</p> +<p>Yet the French have not such hard hearts as people say they +have! Several women brought us broth, and wine; and one +gave me some rags to wrap round my leg, it was very painful, I +could not clean it, nor had I any plaister. One day I was +looking sorrowfully at it, thinking for certain I should <a +name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>lose my +precious limb; when, would you believe it? Pompey saw what I was +thinking about, and began to lick it.—And, I never knew +such a surprizing thing, it grew better and better every day, and +at last was healed without any plaister.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p36.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Indeed we are very happy!" +title= +"Indeed we are very happy!" +src="images/p36.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>After that I was very sick, and the same tender-hearted +creature who gave me the rags, took me to her house; and fresh +air soon recovered me. I for certain ought to speak well of +the French; but for their kindness I should have been in another +port by this time. Mayhap I might have gone with a fair +wind, yet I should have been sorry to have left my poor wife and +her children. But I am letting all my line run out! +Well, by-and-by, there was an exchange of prisoners, and we were +once more in an English vessel, and I made sure of seeing my +family again; but the weather was still foul. Three days +and nights we were in the greatest distress; and the fourth the +ship was dashed against these rocks. Oh! if you had heard +the crash! The water rushed in—the men screamed, Lord +have mercy on us! There was a woman in the ship, and, as I +could swim, I tried to save her, and Pompey followed me; but I +lost him—poor fellow! I declare I cried like a child +when I saw his dead body. However I brought the woman to +shore; and assisted some more of my mess-mates; but, standing in +the water so long, I lost the use of my limbs—yet Heaven +was good to me; Madam, there, sent a cart for us all, and took +care of us; but I never recovered the use of my limbs. So +she asked me all about my misfortunes, and sent for wife, who +came directly, and we have lived here ever since. We catch +fish for Madam, and watch for a storm, hoping some time or other +to be as kind to a poor perishing soul as she has been to +me. Indeed we are very happy—I might now <a +name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 37</span>have been +begging about the streets, but for Madam, God bless her.</p> +<p>A tear strayed down Mrs. Mason’s cheek, while a smile of +benevolence lighted up her countenance—the little girls +caught each hand—They were all silent a few minutes when +she, willing to turn the discourse, enquired whether they had any +fish in the house? Some were produced, they were quickly +dressed, and they all eat together. They had a chearful +meal, and honest Jack sung some of his seafaring songs, and did +all he could to divert them and express his gratitude. +Getting up to reach the brown loaf, he limped very awkwardly, +Mary was just beginning to laugh, when she restrained herself; +for she recollected that his awkwardness made him truly +respectable, because he had lost the use of his limbs when he was +doing good, saving the lives of his fellow-creatures.</p> +<p>The weather cleared up, and they returned home. The +children conversed gaily with each other all the way home, +talking of the poor sailor, and his faithful dog.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The Inconveniences of immoderate +Indulgence.</p> +<p>The children were allowed to help themselves to fruit, when it +made a part of their meal; and Caroline always took care to pick +out the best, or swallow what she took in a hurry, lest she +should not get as much as she wished for. Indeed she +generally eat more than her share. She had several times +eaten more than a person ought to eat at one time, without +feeling any ill effects; but one afternoon she complained of a +pain in her stomach in consequence <a name="page38"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 38</span>of it, and her pale face, and languid +eyes, plainly shewed her indisposition. Mrs. Mason gave her +an emetic, and after the operation she was obliged to go to bed, +though she had promised herself a pleasant walk that +evening. She was left alone, for Mary was not permitted to +stay at home with her, as she offered to do. Had her +sickness been accidental, we would both have tried to amuse her, +said Mrs. Mason; but her greediness now receiving its natural and +just punishment, she must endure it without the alleviation which +pity affords; only tell her from me, that the pleasure was but +momentary, while the pain and confinement it produced, has +already lasted some hours.</p> +<p>The next morning, though scarcely recovered, she got up, as +usual, to have a walk before breakfast. During these walks, +Mrs. Mason told them stories, pointed out the wisdom of God in +the creation, and took them to visit her poor tenants. +These visits not only enabled her to form a judgment of their +wants, but made them very industrious; for they were all anxious +that she might find their houses and persons clean. And +returning through the farmyard, Mrs. Mason stopped according to +custom, to see whether the poor animals were taken care +of—this she called earning her breakfast. The servant +was just feeding the pigs, and though she poured a great quantity +into the trough, the greedy creatures tried to gobble it up from +one another. Caroline blushed, she saw this sight was meant +for her, and she felt ashamed of her gluttony. But Mrs. +Mason, willing to impress her still more strongly, thus addressed +her.</p> +<p>Providence, my child, has given us passions and appetites for +various purposes—two are generally obvious, I will point +them out to you. First to <a name="page39"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 39</span>render our present life more +comfortable, and then to prepare us for another, by making us +sociable beings; as in society virtue is acquired, and +self-denial practised. A moderate quantity of proper food +recruits our exhausted spirits, and invigorates the animal +functions; but, if we exceed moderation, the mind will be +oppressed, and soon become the slave of the body, or both grow +listless and inactive. Employed various ways, families meet +at meals, and there giving up to each other, learn in the most +easy, pleasant way to govern their appetites. Pigs, you +see, devour what they can get; but men, if they have any +affections, love their fellow-creatures, and wish for a return; +nor will they, for the sake of a brutish gratification, lose the +esteem of those they value. Besides, no one can be reckoned +virtuous who has not learned to bear poverty: yet those who think +much of gratifying their appetites, will at last act meanly in +order to indulge them. But when any employment of the +understanding, or strong affection occupies the mind, eating is +seldom thought a matter of greater importance than it ought to +be. Let the idle <i>think</i> of their meals; but do you +employ the intermediate time in a different manner, and only +enjoy them when you join the social circle. I like to see +children, and even men, eat chearfully, and gratefully receive +the blessings sent by Heaven; yet I would not have them abuse +those blessings, or ever let the care necessary to support the +body, injure the immortal spirit: many think of the sustenance +the former craves, and entirely neglect the latter.</p> +<p>I remarked to you before, that in the most apparently trivial +concerns, we are to do as we would be done by. This duty +must be practised constantly; at meals there are frequent +opportunities, and I hope, <a name="page40"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 40</span>Caroline, I shall never again see you +eager to secure dainties for yourself. If such a +disposition were to grow up with you, you ought to live alone, +for no one should enjoy the advantages and pleasures which arise +from social intercourse, who is unwilling to give way to the +inclinations of others, and allow each their share of the good +things of this life.</p> +<p>You experienced yesterday, that pain follows immoderate +indulgence; it is always the case, though sometimes not felt so +immediately; but the constitution is insensibly destroyed, and +old age will come on, loaded with infirmities. You also +lost a very pleasant walk, and some fine fruit. We visited +Mrs. Goodwin’s garden, and as Mary had before convinced me +that she could regulate her appetites, I gave her leave to pluck +as much fruit as she wished; and she did not abuse my +indulgence. On the contrary, she spent most part of the +time in gathering some for me, and her attention made it taste +sweeter.</p> +<p>Coming home I called her my friend, and she deserved the name, +for she was no longer a child; a reasonable affection had +conquered an appetite; her understanding took the lead, and she +had practised a virtue.</p> +<p>The subject was now dropped; but, Caroline determined to copy +in future her sister’s temperance and self-denial.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The Danger of Delay.—Description of a +Mansion-house in Ruins.—The History of Charles Townley.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason who always regulated her own time, and never +loitered her hours irresolutely away, had very frequently to wait +for the children, when she <a name="page41"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 41</span>wished to walk, though she had +desired them to be ready at a precise time. Mary in +particular had a trick of putting everything off till the last +moment, and then she did but half do it, or left it undone. +This indolent way of delaying made her miss many opportunities of +obliging and doing good; and whole hours were lost in thoughtless +idleness, which she afterwards wished had been better +employed.</p> +<p>This was the case one day, when she had a letter to write to +her father; and though it was mentioned to her early in the +morning, the finest part of the evening slipped away whilst she +was finishing it; and her haste made her forget the principal +thing which she intended to have said.</p> +<p>Out of breath she joined them; and after they had crossed +several fields, Mrs. Mason turning down a long avenue, bade them +look at a large old mansion-house. It was now in +ruins. Ivy grew over the substantial walls, that still +resisted the depredations of time, and almost concealed a noble +arch, on which maimed lions couched; and vultures and eagles, who +had lost their wings, seemed to rest for ever there. Near +it was a rookery, and the rooks lived safe in the high trees, +whose trunks were all covered with ivy or moss, and a number of +fungusses grew about their large roots. The grass was long, +and remaining undisturbed, save when the wind swept across it, +was of course pathless. Here the mower never whet his +scythe, nor did the haymakers mix their songs with the hoarse +croaking of the rooks. A spacious basin, on the margin of +which water plants grew with wild luxuriance, was overspread with +slime; and afforded a shelter for toads and adders. In many +places were heaped the ruins of ornamental buildings, whilst +sun-dials rested in the shade;—and pedestals that had +crushed the <a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +42</span>figures they before supported. Making their way +through the grass, they would frequently stumble over a headless +statue, or the head would impede their progress. When they +spoke, the sound seemed to return again, as if unable to +penetrate the thick stagnated air. The sun could not dart +its purifying rays through the thick gloom, and the fallen leaves +contributed to choke up the way, and render the air more +noxious.</p> +<p>I brought you to this place on purpose this evening, said Mrs. +Mason to the children, who clung about her, to tell you the +history of the last inhabitant; but, as this part is unwholesome, +we will sit on the broken stones of the drawbridge.</p> +<p>Charles Townley was a boy of uncommon abilities, and strong +feelings; but he ever permitted those feelings to direct his +conduct, without submitting to the direction of reason; I mean, +the present emotion governed him.—He had not any strength +or consistency of character; one moment he enjoyed a pleasure, +and the next felt the pangs of remorse, on account of some duty +which he had neglected. He always indeed intended to act +right in every particular <i>to-morrow</i>; but <i>to-day</i> he +followed the prevailing whim.</p> +<p>He heard by chance of a man in great distress, he determined +to relieve him, and left his house in order to follow the humane +impulse; but meeting an acquaintance, he was persuaded to go to +the play, and <i>to-morrow</i>, he thought, he would do the act +of charity. The next morning some company came to breakfast +with him, and took him with them to view some fine +pictures. In the evening he went to a concert; the day +following he was tired, and laid in bed till noon; then read a +pathetic story, well wrought up, <i>wept</i> over it—fell +asleep—and forgot to <i>act</i> humanely. <a +name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>An accident +reminded him of his intention, he sent to the man, and found that +he had too long delayed—the relief was useless.</p> +<p>In this thoughtless manner he spent his time and fortune; +never applying to any profession, though formed to shine in any +one he should have chosen. His friends were offended, and +at last allowed him to languish in a gaol; and as there appeared +no probability of reforming or fixing him, they left him to +struggle with adversity.</p> +<p>Severely did he reproach himself—He was almost lost in +despair, when a friend visited him. This friend loved the +latent sparks of virtue which he imagined would some time or +other light up, and animate his conduct. He paid his debts, +and gave him a sum of money sufficient to enable him to prepare +for a voyage to the East Indies, where Charles wished to go, to +try to regain his lost fortune. Through the intercession of +this kind, considerate friend, his relations were reconciled to +him, and his spirits raised.</p> +<p>He sailed with a fair wind, and fortune favouring his most +romantic wishes, in the space of fifteen years, he acquired a +much larger fortune than he had even hoped for, and thought of +visiting, nay, settling in his native country for the remainder +of his life.</p> +<p>Though impressed by the most lively sense of gratitude, he had +dropped his friend’s correspondence; yet, as he knew that +he had a daughter, his first determination was to reserve for her +the greater part of his property, as the most substantial proof +which he could give of his gratitude.—The thought pleased +him, and that was sufficient to divert him for some months; but +accidentally hearing that his friend had been very unsuccessful +in trade, this <a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +44</span>information made him wish to hasten his return to his +native country. Still a procrastinating spirit possessed +him, and he delayed from time to time the arduous task of +settling his affairs, previous to his departure: he wrote, +however, to England, and transmitted a considerable sum to a +correspondent, desiring that this house might be prepared for +him, and the mortgage cleared.</p> +<p>I can scarcely enumerate the various delays that prevented his +embarking; and when he arrived in England, he came here, and was +so childishly eager to have his house fitted up with taste, that +he actually trifled away a month, before he went to seek for his +friend.</p> +<p>But his negligence was now severely punished. He learned +that he had been reduced to great distress, and thrown into the +very gaol, out of which he took Townley, who, hastening to it, +only found his dead body there; for he died the day before. +On the table was lying, amidst some other scraps of paper, a +letter, directed in an unsteady hand to Charles Townley. He +tore it open. Few were the scarcely legible lines; but they +smote his heart. He read as follows:—</p> +<p>‘I have been reduced by unforeseen misfortunes; yet when +I heard of your arrival, a gleam of joy cheered my +heart—<i>I thought I knew your’s</i>, and that my +latter days might still have been made comfortable in your +society, for I loved you; I even expected pleasure; but I was +mistaken; death is my only friend.’</p> +<p>He read it over and over again; and cried out, Gracious God, +had I arrived but one day sooner I should have seen him, and he +would not have died thinking me the most ungrateful wretch that +ever burdened the earth! He then knocked his clinched <a +name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>fist against +his forehead, looked wildly round the dreary apartment, and +exclaimed in a choked, though impatient tone, You sat here +yesterday, thinking of my ingratitude—Where are you +now! Oh! that I had seen you! Oh! that my repenting +sighs could reach you!—</p> +<p>He ordered the body to be interred, and returned home a prey +to grief and despondency. Indulging it to excess, he +neglected to enquire after his friend’s daughter; he +intended to provide amply for her, but now he could only +grieve.</p> +<p>Some time elapsed, then he sent, and the intelligence which he +procured aggravated his distress, and gave it a severe additional +sting.</p> +<p>The poor gentle girl had, during her father’s life, been +engaged to a worthy young man; but, some time after his death, +the relations of her lover had sent him to sea to prevent the +match taking place. She was helpless, and had not +sufficient courage to combat with poverty; to escape from it, she +married an old rake whom she detested. He was ill-humoured, +and his vicious habits rendered him a most dreadful +companion. She tried in vain to please him, and banish the +sorrow that bent her down, and made wealth and all the pleasures +it could procure tasteless. Her tender father was +dead—she had lost her lover—without a friend or +confident, silent grief consumed her. I have told you +friendship is only to be found amongst the virtuous; her husband +was vicious.</p> +<p>Ah! why did she marry, said Mary?</p> +<p>Because she was timid; but I have not told you all; the grief +that did not break her heart, disturbed her reason; and her +husband confined her in a madhouse.</p> +<p>Charles heard of this last circumstance; he visited her. +Fanny, said he, do you recollect your old friend? <a +name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>Fanny looked +at him, and reason for a moment resumed her seat, and informed +her countenance to trace anguish on it—the trembling light +soon disappeared—wild fancy flushed in her eyes, and +animated her incessant rant. She sung several verses of +different songs, talked of her husband’s +ill-usage—enquired if he had lately been to sea? And +frequently addressed her father as if he were behind her chair, +or sitting by her.</p> +<p>Charles could not bear this scene—If I could lose like +her a sense of woe, he cried, this intolerable anguish would not +tear my heart! The fortune which he had intended for her +could not restore her reason; but, had he sent for her soon after +her father’s death, he might have saved her and comforted +himself.</p> +<p>The last stroke was worse than the first; he retired to this +abode; melancholy creeping on him, he let his beard grow, and the +garden run wild. One room in the house the poor lunatic +inhabited; and he had a proper person to attend her, and guard +her from the dangers she wished to encounter. Every day he +visited her, the sight of her would almost have unhinged a sound +mind—How could he bear it, when his conscience reproached +him, and whispered that he had neglected to do good, to live to +any rational purpose—The sweets of friendship were denied, +and he every day contemplated the saddest of all sights—the +wreck of a human understanding.</p> +<p>He died without a will. The estate was litigated, and as +the title to this part could not be proved, the house was let +fall into its present state.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p46.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Be calm, my child" +title= +"Be calm, my child" +src="images/p46.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>But the night will overtake us, we must make haste +home—Give me your hand, Mary, you tremble; surely I need +not desire you to remember this story—Be calm, my child, +and remember that you must attend to trifles; do all the good you +can the present <a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +47</span>day, nay hour, if you would keep your conscience +clear. This circumspection may not produce dazzling +actions, nor will your silent virtue be supported by human +applause; but your Father, who seeth in secret, will reward +you.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Dress.—A Character.—Remarks on +Mrs. Trueman’s Manner of dressing.—Trifling Omissions +undermine Affection.</p> +<p>Mary’s procrastinating temper produced many other ill +consequences; she would lie in bed till the last moment, and then +appear without washing her face or cleaning her teeth. Mrs. +Mason had often observed it, and hinted her dislike; but, +unwilling to burden her with precepts, she waited for a glaring +example. One was soon accidentally thrown in her way, and +she determined that it should not pass unobserved.</p> +<p>A lady, who was remarkable for her negligence in this respect, +spent a week with them; and, during that time, very frequently +disconcerted the economy of the family. She was seldom fit +to be seen, and if any company came by chance to dinner, she +would make them wait till it was quite cold, whilst she huddled +on some ill-chosen finery. In the same style, if a little +party of pleasure was proposed, she had to dress herself, and the +hurry discomposed her, and tired those, who did not like to lose +time in anticipating a trifling amusement.</p> +<p>A few hours after she had left them, Mrs. Mason enquired of +Mary, what effect this week’s experience had had on her +mind? You are fond of ridicule, child, but seldom in the +right place; real cause for it <a name="page48"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 48</span>you let slip, and heed not the silent +reproof that points at your own faults: do not mistake me, I +would not have you laugh at—yet I wish you to feel, what is +ridiculous, and learn to distinguish folly. Mrs. +Dowdy’s negligence arises from indolence; her mind is not +employed about matters of importance; and, if it were, it would +not be a sufficient excuse for her habitually neglecting an +essential part of a man’s as well as a woman’s +duty. I said habitually; grief will often make those +careless, who, at other times, pay a proper attention to their +person; and this neglect is a sure indication that the +canker-worm is at work; and we ought to pity, rather than blame +the unfortunate. Indeed when painful activity of mind +occasions this inattention, it will not last long; the soul +struggles to free itself, and return to its usual tone and old +habits. The lady we have been speaking of, ever appears a +sloven, though she is sometimes a disgusting figure, and, at +others, a very taudry flirt.</p> +<p>I continually caution Caroline not to spend much time in +adorning her person; but I never desired you to neglect +yours. Wisdom consists in avoiding +extremes—immoderate fondness for dress, I term vanity; but +a proper attention to avoid singularity does not deserve that +name. Never waste much time about trifles; but the time +that is necessary, employ properly. Exercise your +understanding, taste flows from it, and will in a moment direct +you, if you are not too solicitous to conform to the changing +fashions; and loiter away in laborious idleness the precious +moments when the imagination is most lively, and should be +allowed to fix virtuous affections in the tender youthful +heart.</p> +<p>Of all the women whom I have ever met with, Mrs. Trueman seems +the freest from vanity, and those frivolous views which degrade +the female character. <a name="page49"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 49</span>Her virtues claim respect, and the +practice of them engrosses her thoughts; yet her clothes are +apparently well chosen, and you always see her in the same +attire. Not like many women who are eager to set off their +persons to the best advantage, when they are only going to take a +walk, and are careless, nay slovenly, when forced to stay at +home. Mrs. Trueman’s conduct is just the reverse, she +tries to avoid singularity, for she does not wish to disgust the +generality; but it is her family, her friends, whom she studies +to please.</p> +<p>In dress it is not little minute things, but the whole that +should be attended to, and that every day; and this attention +gives an ease to the person because the clothes appear unstudily +graceful. Never, continued Mrs. Mason, desire to excel in +trifles, if you do—there is an end to virtuous emulation, +the mind cannot attend to both; for when the main pursuit is +trivial, the character will of course become insignificant. +Habitual neatness is laudable; but, if you wish to be reckoned a +well, an elegantly dressed girl; and feel that praise on account +of it gives you pleasure, you are vain; and a laudable ambition +cannot dwell with vanity.</p> +<p>Servants, and those women whose minds have had a very limited +range, place all their happiness in ornaments, and frequently +neglect the only essential part in dress,—neatness.</p> +<p>I have not the least objection to your dressing according to +your age; I rather encourage it, by allowing you to wear the +gayest colours; yet I insist on some degree of uniformity: and +think you treat me disrespectfully when you appear before me, and +have forgotten to do, what should never be neglected, and what +you could have done in less than a quarter of an hour.</p> +<p><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>I +always dress myself before breakfast, and expect you to follow my +example, if there is not a sufficient, and obvious excuse. +You, Mary, missed a pleasant airing yesterday; for if you had not +forgotten the respect which is due to me, and hurried down to +breakfast in a slovenly manner, I should have taken you out with +me; but I did not choose to wait till you were ready, as your not +being so was entirely your own fault.</p> +<p>Fathers, and men in general, complain of this inattention; +they have always to wait for females. Learn to avoid this +fault, however insignificant it may appear in your eyes, for that +habit cannot be of little consequence that sometimes weakens +esteem. When we frequently make allowance for another in +trifling matters, notions of inferiority take root in the mind, +and too often produce contempt. Respect for the +understanding must be the basis of constancy; the tenderness +which flows from pity is liable to perish insensibly, to consume +itself—even the virtues of the heart, when they degenerate +into weakness, sink a character in our estimation. Besides, +a kind of gross familiarity, takes place of decent affection; and +the respect which alone can render domestic intimacy a lasting +comfort is lost before we are aware of it.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Behaviour to Servants.—True Dignity of +Character.</p> +<p>The children not coming down to breakfast one morning at the +usual time, Mrs. Mason went herself to enquire the reason; and as +she entered the apartment, heard Mary say to the maid who +assisted her, I wonder at your impertinence, to talk thus to +me—do you know who you are speaking to?—she was going +on; but Mrs. Mason interrupted her, and <a +name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 51</span>answered the +question—to a little girl, who is only assisted because she +is weak. Mary shrunk back abashed, and Mrs. Mason +continued, as you have treated Betty, who is ten years older than +yourself, improperly, you must now do every thing for yourself; +and, as you will be some time about it, Caroline and I will eat +our breakfast, and visit Mrs. Trueman. By the time we +return, you may perhaps have recollected that children are +inferior to servants—who act from the dictates of reason, +and whose understandings are arrived at some degree of maturity, +while children must be governed and directed till +<i>their’s</i> gains strength to work by itself: for it is +the proper exercise of our reason that makes us in any degree +independent.</p> +<p>When Mrs. Mason returned, she mildly addressed Mary. I +have often told you that every dispensation of Providence tended +to our improvement, if we do not perversely act contrary to our +interest. One being is made dependent on another, that love +and forbearance may soften the human heart, and that linked +together by necessity, and the exercise of the social affections, +the whole family on earth might have a fellow feeling for each +other. By these means we improve one another; but there is +no real inferiority.</p> +<p>You have read the fable of the head supposing itself superior +to the rest of the members, though all are equally necessary to +the support of life. If I behave improperly to servants, I +am really their inferior, as I abuse a trust, and imitate not the +Being, whose servant I am, without a shadow of equality. +Children are helpless. I order my servants to wait on you, +because you are so; but I have not as much respect for you as for +them; you may possibly become a virtuous character.—Many of +my <a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>servants are really so already; they have done their +duty, filled an humble station, as they ought to fill it, +conscientiously. And do you dare to despise those whom your +Creator approves?</p> +<p>Before the greatest earthly beings I should not be awed, they +are my fellow servants; and, though superior in rank, which, like +personal beauty, only dazzles the vulgar; yet I may possess more +knowledge and virtue. The same feeling actuates me when I +am in company with the poor; we are creatures of the same nature, +and I may be their inferiour in those graces which should adorn +my soul, and render me truly great.</p> +<p>How often must I repeat to you, that a child is inferiour to a +man; because reason is in its infancy, and it is reason which +exalts a man above a brute; and the cultivation of it raises the +wise man above the ignorant; for wisdom is only another name for +virtue.</p> +<p>This morning, when I entered your apartment, I heard you +insult a worthy servant. You had just said your prayers; +but they must have been only the gabble of the tongue; your heart +was not engaged in the sacred employment, or you could not so +soon have forgotten that you were a weak, dependent being, and +that you were to receive mercy and kindness only on the condition +of your practising the same.</p> +<p>I advise you to ask Betty to pardon your impertinence; till +you do so, she shall not assist you; you would find yourself very +helpless without the assistance of men and women—unable to +cook your meat, bake your bread, wash your clothes, or even put +them on—such a helpless creature is a child—I know +what you are, you perceive.</p> +<p>Mary submitted—and in future after she said her prayers, +remembered that she was to endeavour to curb her temper.</p> +<h3><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>CHAPTER XIII</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Employment.—Idleness produces +Misery.—The Cultivation of the Fancy raises us above the +Vulgar, extends our Happiness, and leads to Virtue.</p> +<p>One afternoon, Mrs. Mason gave the children leave to amuse +themselves; but a kind of listlessness hung over them, and at a +loss what to do, they seemed fatigued with doing nothing. +They eat cakes though they had just dined, and did many foolish +things merely because they were idle. Their friend seeing +that they were irresolute, and could not fix on any employment, +requested Caroline to assist her to make some clothes, that a +poor woman was in want of, and while we are at work, she added, +Mary will read us an entertaining tale, which I will point +out.</p> +<p>The tale interested the children, who chearfully attended, and +after it was finished, Mrs. Mason told them, that as she had some +letters to write, she could not take her accustomed walk; but +that she would allow them to represent her, and act for once like +women. They received their commission, it was to take the +clothes to the poor woman, whom they were intended for; learn her +present wants; exercise their own judgment with respect to the +immediate relief she stood in need of, and act accordingly.</p> +<p>They returned home delighted, eager to tell what they had +done, and how thankful, and happy they had left the poor +woman.</p> +<p>Observe now, said Mrs. Mason, the advantages arising from +employment; three hours ago, you were uncomfortable, without +being sensible of the cause, and knew not what to do with +yourselves. Nay, you actually committed a sin; for you +devoured cakes without feeling hunger, merely to kill time, +whilst <a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +54</span>many poor people have not the means of satisfying their +natural wants. When I desired you to read to me you were +amused; and now you have been useful you are delighted. +Recollect this in future when you are at a loss what to do with +yourselves—and remember that idleness must always be +intolerable, because it is only an irksome consciousness of +existence.</p> +<p>Every gift of Heaven is lent to us for our improvement; fancy +is one of the first of the inferiour ones; in cultivating it, we +acquire what is called taste, or a relish for particular +employments, which occupy our leisure hours, and raise us above +the vulgar in our conversation. Those who have not any +taste talk always of their own affairs or of their neighbours; +every trivial matter that occurs within their knowledge they +convass and conjecture about—not so much out of ill-nature +as idleness: just as you eat the cakes without the impulse of +hunger. In the same style people talk of eating and dress, +and long for their meals merely to divide the day, because the +intermediate time is not employed in a more interesting +manner. Every new branch of taste that we cultivate, +affords us a refuge from idleness, a fortress in which we may +resist the assaults of vice; and the more noble our employments, +the more exalted will our minds become.</p> +<p>Music, drawing, works of usefulness and fancy, all amuse and +refine the mind, sharpen the ingenuity; and form, insensibly, the +dawning judgment.—As the judgment gains strength, so do the +passions also; we have actions to weigh, and need that taste in +conduct, that delicate sense of propriety, which gives grace to +virtue. The highest branch of solitary amusement is +reading; but even in the choice of books the fancy is first +employed; for in reading, the heart is touched, till its feelings +are examined by the understanding, <a name="page55"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 55</span>and the ripenings of reason regulate +the imagination. This is the work of years, and the most +important of all employments. When life advances, if the +heart has been capable of receiving early impressions, and the +head of reasoning and retaining the conclusions which were drawn +from them; we have acquired a stock of knowledge, a gold mine +which we can occasionally recur to, independent of outward +circumstances.</p> +<p>The supreme Being has every thing in Himself; we proceed from +Him, and our knowledge and affections must return to Him for +employment suited to them. And those who most resemble Him +ought, next to Him, to be the objects of our love; and the beings +whom we should try to associate with, that we may receive an +inferiour degree of satisfaction from their society.—But be +assured our chief comfort must ever arise from the mind’s +reviewing its own operations—and the whispers of an +approving conscience, to convince us that life has not slipped +away unemployed.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Innocent Amusements.—Description of a +Welsh Castle.—History of a Welsh Harper.—A tyrannical +Landlord.—Family Pride.</p> +<p>As it was now harvest time, the new scene, and the fine +weather delighted the children, who ran continually out to view +the reapers. Indeed every thing seemed to wear a face of +festivity, and the ripe corn bent under its own weight, or, more +erect, shewed the laughing appearance of plenty.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason always allowing the gleaners to have a sufficient +quantity, a great number of poor came to <a +name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>gather a +little harvest; and she was pleased to see the feeble hands of +childhood and age, collecting the scattered ears.</p> +<p>Honest Jack came with his family; and when the labours of the +day were over, would play on a fiddle, that frequently had but +three strings. But it served to set the feet in motion, and +the lads and lasses dancing on the green sod, suffered every care +to sleep.</p> +<p>An old Welsh harper generally came to the house about this +time of the year, and staid a month or more; for Mrs. Mason was +particularly fond of this instrument, and interested in the fate +of the player; as is almost always the case, when we have rescued +a person out of any distress.</p> +<p>She informed the children, that once travelling through Wales, +her carriage was overturned near the ruins of an old +castle. And as she had escaped unhurt, she determined to +wander amongst them, whilst the driver took care of his horses, +and her servant hastened to the neighbouring village for +assistance.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p56.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Trying to trace the sound" +title= +"Trying to trace the sound" +src="images/p56.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>It was almost dark, and the lights began to twinkle in the +scattered cottages. The scene pleased me, continued Mrs. +Mason, I thought of the various customs which the lapse of time +unfolds; and dwelt on the state of the Welsh, when this castle, +now so desolate, was the hospitable abode of the chief of a noble +family. These reflections entirely engrossed my mind, when +the sound of a harp reached my ears. Never was any thing +more opportune, the national music seemed to give reality to the +pictures which my imagination had been drawing. I listened +awhile, and then trying to trace the pleasing sound, discovered, +after a short search, a little hut, rudely built. The walls +of an old tower supported part of the thatch, <a +name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>which +scarcely kept out the rain, and the two other sides were stones +cemented, or rather plaistered together, by mud and clay.</p> +<p>I entered, and beheld an old man, sitting by a few loose +sticks, which blazed on the hearth; and a young woman, with one +child at her breast, sucking, and another on her knee: near them +stood a cow and her calf. The man had been playing on the +harp, he rose when he saw me, and offered his chair, the only one +in the room, and sat down on a large chest in the +chimney-corner. When the door was shut, all the light that +was admitted came through the hole, called a chimney, and did not +much enliven the dwelling. I mentioned my accident to +account for my intrusion, and requested the harper again to touch +the instrument that had attracted me. A partition of twigs +and dried leaves divided this apartment from another, in which I +perceived a light; I enquired about it, and the woman, in an +artless manner, informed me, that she had let it to a young +gentlewoman lately married, who was related to a very good +family, and would not lodge any where, or with any body. +This intelligence made me smile, to think that family pride +should be a solace in such extreme poverty.</p> +<p>I sat there some time, and then the harper accompanied me to +see whether the carriage was repaired; I found it waiting for me; +and as the inn I was to sleep at was only about two miles +further, the harper offered to come and play to me whilst I was +eating my supper. This was just what I wished for, his +appearance had roused my compassion as well as my curiosity, and +I took him and his harp in the chaise. After supper he +informed me, that he had once a very good farm; but he had been +so unfortunate as to displease the justice, who never forgave +him, nor rested till he had ruined him. This tyrant always +<a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>expected +his tenants to assist him to bring in his harvest before they had +got in their own. The poor harper was once in the midst of +his, when an order was sent to him to bring his carts and +servants, the next day, to the fields of this petty king. +He foolishly refused; and this refusal was the foundation of that +settled hatred which produced such fatal consequences. Ah, +Madam, said the sufferer, your heart would ache, if you heard of +all his cruelties to me, and the rest of his poor tenants. +He employs many labourers, and will not give them as much wages +as they could get from the common farmers, yet they dare not go +any-where else to work when he sends for them. The fish +that they catch they must bring first to him, or they would not +be allowed to walk over his grounds to catch them; and he will +give just what he pleases for the most valuable part of their +pannier.</p> +<p>But there would be no end to my story were I to tell you of +all his oppressions. I was obliged to leave my farm; and my +daughter, whom you saw this evening, having married an +industrious young man, I came to live with them. +When,—would you believe it? this same man threw my son into +jail, on account of his killing a hare, which all the country +folks do when they can catch them in their grounds. We were +again in great distress, and my daughter and I built the hut you +saw in the waste, that the poor babes might have a shelter. +I maintain them by playing on the harp,—the master of this +inn allows me to play to the gentry who travel this way; so that +I pick up a few pence, just enough to keep life and soul +together, and to enable me to send a little bread to my poor son +John Thomas.</p> +<p>He then began one of the most dismal of his Welsh ditties, +and, in the midst of it cried out, he is an <a +name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>upstart, a +mere mushroom!—His grandfather was cow-boy to +mine!—So I told him once, and he never forgot +it.—</p> +<p>The old man then informed me that the castle in which he now +was sheltered formerly belonged to his family—such are the +changes and chances of this mortal life—said he, and +hastily struck up a lively tune.—</p> +<p>While he was striking the strings, I thought too of the +changes in life which an age had produced. The descendant +of those who had made the hall ring with social mirth now mourned +in its ruins, and hung his harp on the mouldering +battlements. Such is the fate of buildings and of +families!</p> +<p>After I had dismissed my guest, I sent for the landlord, to +make some further enquiries; and found that I had not been +deceived; I then determined to assist him, and thought my +accident providential. I knew a man of consequence in the +neighbourhood, I visited him, and exerted myself to procure the +enlargement of the young man. I succeeded; and not only +restored him to his family; but prevailed on my friend to let him +rent a small farm on his estate, and I gave him money to buy +stock for it, and the implements of husbandry.</p> +<p>The old harper’s gratitude was unbounded; the summer +after he walked to visit me; and ever since he has contrived to +come every year to enliven our harvest-home.—This evening +it is to be celebrated.</p> +<p>The evening came; the joyous party footed it away merrily, and +the sound of their shoes was heard on the barn-floor. It +was not the light fantastic toe, that fashion taught to move, but +honest heart-felt mirth, and the loud laugh, if it spoke the +vacant head, said audibly that the heart was guileless.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason always gave them some trifling presents <a +name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>at this time, +to render the approach of winter more comfortable. To the +men, she generally presented warm clothing, and to the women flax +and worsted for knitting and spinning; and those who were the +most industrious received a reward when the new year +commenced. The children had books given to them, and little +ornaments.—All were anxious for the day; and received their +old acquaintance, the harper, with the most cordial smiles.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Prayer.—A Moon-light +Scene.—Resignation.</p> +<p>The harper would frequently sit under a large elm, a few paces +from the house, and play some of the most plaintive Welsh +tunes. While the people were eating their supper, Mrs. +Mason desired him to play her some favourite airs; and she and +the children walked round the tree under which he sat, on the +stump of another.</p> +<p>The moon rose in cloudless majesty, and a number of stars +twinkled near her. The softened landscape inspired +tranquillity, while the strain of rustic melody gave a pleasing +melancholy to the whole—and made the tear start, whose +source could scarcely be traced. The pleasure the sight of +harmless mirth gave rise to in Mrs. Mason’s bosom, roused +every tender feeling—set in motion her spirits.—She +laughed with the poor whom she had made happy, and wept when she +recollected her own sorrows; the illusions of youth—the gay +expectations that had formerly clipped the wings of +time.—She turned to the girls—I have been very +unfortunate, my young friends; but my griefs are now of a placid +kind. Heavy misfortunes have <a name="page61"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 61</span>obscured the sun I gazed at when +first I entered life—early attachments have been +broken—the death of friends I loved has so clouded my days; +that neither the beams of prosperity, nor even those of +benevolence, can dissipate the gloom; but I am not lost in a +thick fog.—My state of mind rather resembles the scene +before you, it is quiet—I am weaned from the world, but not +disgusted—for I can still do good—and in futurity a +sun will rise to cheer my heart.—Beyond the night of death, +I hail the dawn of an eternal day! I mention my state of +mind to you, that I may tell you what supports me.</p> +<p>The festivity within, and the placidity without, led my +thoughts naturally to the source from whence my comfort +springs—to the Great Bestower of every blessing. +Prayer, my children, is the dearest privilege of man, and the +support of a feeling heart. Mine has too often been wounded +by ingratitude; my fellow-creatures, whom I have fondly loved, +have neglected me—I have heard their last sigh, and thrown +my eyes round an empty world; but then more particularly feeling +the presence of my Creator, I poured out my soul before +Him—and was no longer alone!—I now daily contemplate +His wonderful goodness; and, though at an awful distance, try to +imitate Him. This view of things is a spur to activity, and +a consolation in disappointment.</p> +<p>There is in fact a constant intercourse kept up with the +Creator, when we learn to consider Him, as the fountain of truth, +which our understanding naturally thirsts after. But His +goodness brings Him still more on a level with our bounded +capacities—for we trace it in every work of mercy, and +feel, in sorrow particularly, His fatherly care. Every +blessing is doubled when we suppose it comes from Him, and +afflictions almost lose their name when we <a +name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>believe they +are sent to correct, not crush us.—Whilst we are alive to +gratitude and admiration, we must adore God.</p> +<p>The human soul is so framed, that goodness and truth must fill +it with ineffable pleasure, and the nearer it approaches to +perfection, the more earnestly will it pursue those virtues, +discerning more clearly their beauty.</p> +<p>The Supreme Being dwells in the universe. He is as +essentially present to the wicked as to the good; but the latter +delight in His presence, and try to please Him, whilst the former +shrink from a Judge, who is of too pure a nature to behold +iniquity.—The wicked wish for the rocks to cover them, +mountains, or the angry sea, which we the other day surveyed, to +hide them from the presence of that Being—in whose presence +only they could find joy. You feel emotions that incite you +to do good; and painful ones disturb you, when you have resisted +the faithful internal monitor. The wiser, and the better +you grow, the more visible, if I may use the expression, will God +become—For wisdom consists in searching Him out—and +goodness in endeavouring to copy His attributes.</p> +<p>To attain any thing great, a model must be held up to exercise +our understanding, and engage our affections. A view of the +disinterested goodness of God is therefore calculated to touch us +more than can be conceived by a depraved mind. When the +love of God is shed abroad in our hearts; true courage will +animate our conduct, for nothing can hurt those who trust in +Him. If the desire of acting right is ever present with us, +if admiration of goodness fills our souls; we may be said to pray +constantly. And if we try to do justice to all our +fellow-creatures, and even to the brute creation; and assist them +as far as <a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +63</span>we can, we prove whose servants we are, and whose laws +we transcribe in our lives.</p> +<p>Never be very anxious, when you pray, what <i>words</i> to +use; regulate your <i>thoughts</i>; and recollect that virtue +calms the passions, gives clearness to the understanding, and +opens it to pleasures that the thoughtless and vicious have not a +glimpse of. You must, believe me, be acquainted with God to +find peace, to rise superior to worldly temptations. +Habitual devotion is of the utmost consequence to our happiness, +as what oftenest occupies the thoughts will influence our +actions. But, observe what I say,—<i>that</i> +devotion is mockery and selfishness, which does not improve our +moral character.</p> +<p>Men, of old, prayed to the devil, sacrificed their children to +him; and committed every kind of barbarity and impurity. +But we who serve a long-suffering God should pity the weakness of +our fellow-creatures; we must not beg for mercy and not shew +it;—we must not acknowledge that we have offended, without +trying to avoid doing so in future. We are to deal with our +fellow-creatures as we expect to be dealt with. This is +practical prayer!—Those who practise it feel frequently +sublime pleasures, and lively hopes animate them in this vale of +tears; that seem a foretaste of the felicity they will enjoy, +when the understanding is more enlightened, and the affections +properly regulated.</p> +<p>To-morrow I will take you to visit the school-mistress of the +village, and relate her story, to enforce what I have been +saying.</p> +<p>Now you may go and dance one or two dances; and I will join +you after I have taken a walk, which I wish to enjoy alone.</p> +<h3><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +64</span>CHAPTER XVI</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The +History of the Village School-mistress.—Fatal Effects of +Inattention to Expences, in the History of Mr. Lofty.</p> +<p>The next morning Mrs. Mason desired the children to get their +work, and draw near the table whilst she related the promised +history; and in the afternoon, if the weather be fine, they were +to visit the village school-mistress.</p> +<p>Her father, the honourable Mr. Lofty, was the youngest son of +a noble family; his education had been liberal, though his +fortune was small. His relations, however, seemed +determined to push him forward in life, before he disobliged them +by marrying the daughter of a country clergyman, an accomplished, +sensible woman.</p> +<p>Some time after the birth of his daughter Anna, his elder +brother, the Earl of Caermarthen, was reconciled to him; but this +reconciliation only led him into expences, which his limited +fortune could not bear. Mr. Lofty had a high sense of +honour, and rather a profuse turn; he was, beside, a very humane +man, and gave away much more than he could afford to give, when +his compassion was excited. He never did a mean action; but +sometimes an ostentatious pride tarnished the lustre of very +splendid ones, made them appear to judicious eyes, more like +tinsel, than gold. I will account for it. His first +impulse arose from sensibility, and the second from an immoderate +desire of human applause: for he seemed not to be alive to +devotional feelings, or to have that rock to rest on, which will +support a frail being, and give true dignity to a character, +though all nature combined to crush it.</p> +<p><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>Mrs. +Lofty was not a shining character—but I will read you a +part of a letter, which her daughter, the lady we are to visit, +wrote to me.</p> +<p>‘This being the anniversary of the day on which an ever +loved, and much revered parent was released from the bondage of +mortality, I observe it with particular seriousness, and with +gratitude; for her sorrows were great, her trials +severe—but her conduct was blameless: yet the world admired +her not; her silent, modest virtues, were not formed to attract +the notice of the injudicious crowd, and her understanding was +not brilliant enough to excite admiration. But she was +regardless of the opinion of the world; she sought her reward in +the source from whence her virtue was derived—and she found +it.—He, who, for wise and merciful purposes, suffered her +to be afflicted, supported her under her trials; thereby calling +forth the exercise of those virtues with which He had adorned her +gentle soul; and imparting to her a degree of heart-felt comfort, +which no earthly blessing could afford.’</p> +<p>This amiable parent died when Anna was near eighteen, and left +her to the care of her father, whose high spirit she had +imbibed. However, the religious principles which her mother +had instilled regulated her notions of honour, and so elevated +her character, that her heart was regulated by her +understanding.</p> +<p>Her father who had insensibly involved himself in debt, after +her mother’s death, tried many different schemes of life, +all of which, at first wore a promising aspect; but wanting that +suppleness of temper, that enables people to rise in the world, +his struggles, instead of extricating, sunk him still +deeper. Wanting also the support of religion, he became +sour, easily irritated, and almost hated a world whose applause +he had once eagerly courted. His affairs were at last <a +name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>in such a +desperate state, that he was obliged, reluctantly, to accept of +an invitation from his brother, who with his wife, a weak fine +lady, intended to spend some time on the continent; his daughter +was, of course, to be of the party.</p> +<p>The restraint of obligations did not suit his temper, and +feeling himself dependent, he imagined every one meant to insult +him.</p> +<p>Some sarcasms were thrown out one day by a gentleman, in a +large company; they were not personal, yet he took fire. +His sore mind was easily hurt, he resented them; and heated by +wine, they both said more than their cool reason would have +suggested. Mr. Lofty imagined his honour was wounded, and +the next morning sent him a challenge—They met—and he +killed his antagonist, who, dying, pardoned him, and declared +that the sentiments which had given him so much offence, fell +from him by accident, and were not levelled at any person.</p> +<p>The dying man lamented, that the thread of a thoughtless life +had been so suddenly snapped—the name of his wife and +children he could not articulate, when something like a prayer +for them escaped his livid lips, and shook his exhausted +frame—The blood flowed in a copious stream—vainly did +Mr. Lofty endeavour to staunch it—the heart lost its vital +nourishment—and the soul escaped as he pressed the hand of +his destroyer.—Who, when he found him breathless, ran home, +and rushed in a hurry into his own chamber. The dead +man’s image haunted his imagination—he +started—imagined that he was at his elbow—and shook +the hand that had received the dying grasp—yet still it was +pressed, and the pressure entered into his very soul—On the +table lay two pistols, he caught up one,—and shot +himself.—The report alarmed the family—the servants +and his <a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +67</span>daughter, for his brother was not at home, broke open +the door,—and she saw the dreadful sight! As there +was still some appearance of life, a trembling ray—she +supported the body, and sent for assistance. But he soon +died in her arms without speaking, before the servant returned +with a surgeon.</p> +<p>Horror seized her, another pistol lay charged on the table, +she caught it up, but religion held her hand—she knelt down +by a dead father, and prayed to a superior one. Her mind +grew calmer—yet still she passionately wished she had but +heard him speak, or that she had conveyed comfort to his +departing spirit—where, where would it find comfort? again +she was obliged to have recourse to prayer.</p> +<p>After the death of her father, her aunt treated her as if she +were a mere dependent on her bounty; and expected her to be an +humble companion in every sense of the word. The visitors +took the tone from her ladyship, and numberless were the +mortifications she had to bear.</p> +<p>The entrance of a person about business interrupted the +narration; but Mrs. Mason promised to resume it after dinner.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The Benefits arising from Devotion.—The +History of the Village School-mistress concluded.</p> +<p>As soon as the cloth was removed, Mrs. Mason concluded the +narration; and the girls forgot their fruit whilst they were +listening to the sequel.</p> +<p>Anna endured this treatment some years, and had an opportunity +of acquiring a knowledge of the world and her own heart. +She visited her mother’s father, and would have remained +with him; but she <a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +68</span>determined not to lessen the small pittance which he had +anxiously saved out of a scanty income for two other +grand-children. She thought continually of her situation, +and found, on examining her understanding, that the fashionable +circle in which she moved, could not at any rate have afforded +her much satisfaction, or even amusement; though the neglect and +contempt that she met with rendered her very uncomfortable. +She had her father’s spirit of independence, and determined +to shake off the galling yoke which she had long struggled with, +and try to earn her own subsistence. Her acquaintance +expostulated with her, and represented the miseries of poverty, +and the mortifications and difficulties that she would have to +encounter. Let it be so, she replied, it is much preferable +to swelling the train of the proud or vicious great, and +despising myself for bearing their impertinence, for eating their +bitter bread;—better, indeed, is a dinner of herbs with +contentment. My wants are few. When I am my own +mistress, the crust I earn will be sweet, and the water that +moistens it will not be mingled with tears of sorrow or +indignation.</p> +<p>To shorten my story; she came to me, after she had attempted +several plans, and requested my advice. She would not +accept of any considerable favour, and declared that the greatest +would be, to put her in a way of supporting herself, without +forfeiting her highly valued independence. I knew not what +to advise; but whilst I was debating the matter with myself, I +happened to mention, that we were in want of a +school-mistress. She eagerly adopted the plan, and +persevering in it these last ten years, I find her a most +valuable acquisition to our society.</p> +<p>She was formed to shine in the most brilliant circle—yet +she relinquished it, and patiently labours to <a +name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 69</span>improve the +children consigned to her management, and tranquillize her own +mind. She succeeds in both.</p> +<p>She lives indeed alone, and has all day only the society of +children; yet she enjoys many true pleasures; dependence on God +is her support, and devotion her comfort. Her lively +affections are therefore changed into a love of virtue and truth: +and these exalted speculations have given an uncommon dignity to +her manners; for she seems above the world, and its trifling +commotions. At her meals, gratitude to Heaven supplies the +place of society. She has a tender, social heart, and, as +she cannot sweeten her solitary draught, by expressing her good +wishes to her fellow-creatures, an ejaculation to Heaven for the +welfare of her friends is the substitute. This circumstance +I heard her mention to her grandfather, who sometimes visits +her.</p> +<p>I will now make some alteration in my dress, for when I visit +those who have been reduced from their original place in society +by misfortunes, I always attend a little to ceremony; lest too +much familiarity should appear like disrespect.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Visit to the School-mistress.—True and +false Pride.</p> +<p>Their dress was soon adjusted, and the girls plucked flowers +to adorn themselves, and a nosegay to present to the +school-mistress, whose garden was but small.</p> +<p>They met the children just released from confinement; the +swarm came humming round Mrs. Mason, endeavouring to catch her +eye, and obtain the notice they were so proud of. The girls +made their best courtesies, blushing; and the boys hung down +their <a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span>heads, and kicked up the dust, in scraping a bow of +respect.</p> +<p>They found their mistress preparing to drink tea, to refresh +herself after the toils of the day; and, with the ease peculiar +to well-bred people, she quickly enabled them to partake of it, +by giving the tea-board a more sociable appearance.</p> +<p>The harvest-home was soon the subject of conversation, and the +harper was mentioned. The family pride of the Welsh, said +Anna, has often diverted me; I have frequently heard the +inhabitants of a little hut, that could scarcely be distinguished +from the pig-sty, which stood in the front of it, boast of their +ancestors and despise trade. They have informed me, that +one branch of their family built the middle aisle of the church; +that another beautified the chancel, and gave the ten +commandments, which blaze there in letters of gold. Some +rejoice that their forefathers sleep in the most conspicuous +tombs—and that their ashes have an inscription to point out +where they are returning to their mother earth. And those +graves, which only a little stone at the head gives consequence +to, are adorned every Sunday with flowers, or ever-greens. +We perceive, in all the various customs of men, a desire to live +in the past and in the future, if I may be allowed the +expression.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason then observed, that of all the species of pride +which carry a man out of himself, family pride was the most +beneficial to society. Pride of wealth produces vanity and +ostentation; but that of blood seems to inspire high notions of +honour, and to banish meanness. Yet it is productive of +many ill consequences, the most obvious is, that it renders +individuals respectable to the generality, whose merit is only +reflected: and sometimes the want of this accidental advantage +throws the most shining personal <a name="page71"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 71</span>virtues and abilities into +obscurity. In weak minds this pride degenerates into the +most despicable folly; and the wise will not condescend to accept +of fame at second-hand, replied Anna. We ought to be proud +of our original, but we should trace it to our Heavenly Father, +who breathed into us the breath of life.—We are His +children when we try to resemble Him, when we are convinced that +truth and goodness must constitute the very essence of the soul; +and that the pursuit of them will produce happiness, when the +vain distinctions of mortals will fade away, and their pompous +escutcheons moulder with more vulgar dust! But remember, my +young friends, virtue is immortal; and goodness arises from a +quick perception of truth, and actions conformable to the +conviction.</p> +<p>Different subjects beguiled the time, till the closing evening +admonished them to return home; and they departed reluctantly, +filled with respect.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Charity.—The History of Peggy and her +Family.—The Sailor’s Widow.</p> +<p>I have often remarked to you, said Mrs. Mason, one morning, to +her pupils, that we are all dependent on each other; and this +dependence is wisely ordered by our Heavenly Father, to call +forth many virtues, to exercise the best affections of the human +heart, and fix them into habits. While we impart pleasure +we receive it, and feel the grandeur of our immortal soul, as it +is constantly struggling to spread itself into futurity.</p> +<p>Perhaps the greatest pleasure I have ever received, has arisen +from the habitual exercise of charity, in its various branches: +the view of a distressed object has <a name="page72"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 72</span>made me now think of conversing about +one branch of it, that of giving alms.</p> +<p>You know Peggy, the young girl whom I wish to have most about +my person; I mean, I wish it for her own sake, that I may have an +opportunity of improving her mind, and cultivating a good +capacity. As to attendance, I never give much trouble to +any fellow-creature; for I choose to be independent of caprice +and artificial wants; unless indeed, when I am sick; then, I +thankfully receive the assistance I would willingly give to +others in the same situation. I believe I have not in the +world a more faithful friend than Peggy; and her earnest desire +to please me gratifies my benevolence, for I always observe with +delight the workings of a grateful heart.</p> +<p>I lost a darling child, said Mrs. Mason, smothering a sigh, in +the depth of winter—death had before deprived me of her +father, and when I lost my child—he died again.</p> +<p>The wintery prospects suiting the temper of my soul, I have +sat looking at a wide waste of trackless snow for hours; and the +heavy sullen fog, that the feeble rays of the sun could not +pierce, gave me back an image of my mind. I was unhappy, +and the sight of dead nature accorded with my feelings—for +all was dead to me.</p> +<p>As the snow began to melt, I took a walk, and observed the +birds hopping about with drooping wings, or mute on the leafless +boughs. The mountain, whose sides had lost the snow, looked +black; yet still some remained on the summit, and formed a +contrast to diversify the dreary prospect.</p> +<p>I walked thoughtfully along, when the appearance of a poor +man, who did not beg, struck me very forcibly. His +shivering limbs were scarcely sheltered from the cold by the +tattered garments that covered <a name="page73"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 73</span>him; and he had a sharp, famished +look. I stretched out my hand with some relief in it, I +would not enquire into the particulars of such obvious +distress. The poor wretch caught my hand, and hastily +dropping on his knees, thanked me in an extacy, as if he had +almost lost sight of hope, and was overcome by the sudden +relief. His attitude, for I cannot bear to see a +fellow-creature kneel, and eager thanks, oppressed my weak +spirits, so that I could not for a moment ask him any more +questions; but as soon as I recollected myself, I learned from +him the misfortunes that had reduced him to such extreme +distress, and he hinted, that I could not easily guess the good I +had done. I imagined from this hint that he was meditating +his own destruction when I saw him, to spare himself the misery +of seeing his infant perish,—starved to death, in every +sense of the word.</p> +<p>I will now hasten to the sequel of the account. His wife +had lately had a child, she was very ill at the time, and want of +proper food, and a defence against the inclemency of the weather, +hurried her out of the world. The poor child, Peggy, had +sucked in disease and nourishment together, and now even that +wretched source had failed—the breast was cold that had +afforded the scanty support; and the little innocent smiled, +unconscious of its misery. I sent for her, added Mrs. +Mason, and her father dying a few years after, she has ever been +a favourite charge of mine, and nursing of her, in some measure, +dispelled the gloom in which I had been almost lost.—Ah! my +children, you know not how many, ‘houseless heads bide the +pitiless storm!’</p> +<p>I received soon after a lesson of resignation from a poor +woman, who was a practical philosopher.</p> +<p>She had lost her husband, a sailor, and lost his wages also, +as she could not prove his death. She <a +name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 74</span>came to me to +beg some pieces of silk, to make some pin-cushions for the +boarders of a neighbouring school. Her lower weeds were +patched with different coloured rags; but they spoke not variety +of wretchedness, on the contrary, they shewed a mind so content, +that want, and bodily pain, did not prevent her thinking of the +opinion of casual observers. This woman lost a husband and +a child suddenly, and her daily bread was precarious.—I +cheered the widow’s heart, and my own was not quite +solitary.</p> +<p>But I am growing melancholy, whilst I am only desirous of +pointing out to you how very beneficial charity is—because +it enables us to find comfort when all our worldly comforts are +blighted: besides, when our bowels yearn to our fellow-creatures, +we feel that the love of God dwelleth in us—and then we +cannot always go on our way sorrowing.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Visit to Mrs. Trueman.—The Use of +Accomplishments.—Virtue the Soul of all.</p> +<p>In the afternoon they visited Mrs. Trueman unexpectedly, and +found her sitting in the garden playing to her children, who +danced on the green sod. She approached to receive them, +and laid aside her guitar; but, after some conversation, Mrs. +Mason desired her to take it up again, and the girls joined in +the request. While she was singing Mary whispered Mrs. +Mason, that she would give the world to be able to sing as +well. The whisper was not so low but a part of it reached +Mrs. Trueman’s ears, who said to her, smiling, my young +friend, you value accomplishments much too highly—they may +<a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>give grace +to virtue—but are nothing without solid +worth.—Indeed, I may say more, for any thing like +perfection in the arts cannot be attained, where a relish; nay, a +delight in what is true and noble is wanting. A superficial +observer may be pleased with a picture in which fine colours +predominate; and quick movements in music may tickle the ear, +though they never reach the heart: but it is the simple strain +which affection animates, that we listen to with interest and +delight. Mr. Trueman has a taste for the fine arts; and I +wish in every thing to be his companion. His conversation +has improved my judgment, and the affection an intimate knowledge +of his virtues has inspired, increases the love which I feel for +the whole human race. He lives retired from the world; to +amuse him after the business of the day is over, and my babes +asleep, I sing to him. A desire to please, and the pleasure +I read in his eyes, give to my music energy and tenderness. +When he is ruffled by worldly cares, I try to smooth his wrinkled +brow, and think mine a voice of melody, when it has had that +effect.</p> +<p>Very true, replied Mrs. Mason, accomplishments should be +cultivated to render us pleasing to our domestic friends; virtue +is necessary; it must ever be the foundation of our peace and +usefulness; but when we are capable of affection, we wish to have +something peculiar to ourselves. We study the taste of our +friends, and endeavour to conform to it; but, in doing so, we +ought rather to improve our own abilities than servilely to copy +theirs. Observe, my dear girls, Mrs. Trueman’s +distinction, her accomplishments are for her friends, her virtues +for the world in general.</p> +<p>I should think myself vain, and my soul little, answered Mrs. +Trueman, if the applause of the whole world, on the score of +abilities, which did not add <a name="page76"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 76</span>any real lustre to my character, +could afford me matter of exultation. The approbation of my +own heart, the humble hope of pleasing the Most High, elevates my +soul; and I feel, that in a future state, I may enjoy an +unspeakable degree of happiness, though I now only experience a +faint foretaste. Next to these sublime emotions, which I +cannot describe, and the joy resulting from doing good; I am +happy when I can amuse those I love; it is not then vanity, but +tenderness, that spurs me on, and my songs, my drawings, my every +action, has something of my heart in it. When I can add to +the innocent enjoyments of my children, and improve them at the +same time, are not my accomplishments of use? In the same +style, when I vary the pleasures of my fire-side, I make my +husband forget that it is a lonely one; and he returns to look +for elegance at home, elegance that he himself gave the polish +to; and which is only affected, when it does not flow from +virtuous affections.</p> +<p>I beg your pardon, I expatiate too long on my favourite topic; +my desire to rectify your notions must plead my excuse.</p> +<p>Mr. Trueman now joined them, and brought with him some of his +finest fruit. After tea Mrs. Trueman shewed them some of +her drawings; and, to comply with their repeated request, played +on the harpsichord, and Mr. Trueman took his violin to accompany +her. Then the children were indulged with a dance, each had +her favourite tune played in turn.</p> +<p>As they returned home, the girls were eagerly lavishing +praises on Mrs. Trueman; and Mary said, I cannot tell why, but I +feel so glad when she takes notice of me. I never saw any +one look so good-natured, cried Caroline. Mrs. Mason joined +in the conversation. You justly remarked that she is <a +name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 77</span>good-natured; +you remember her history, she loves truth, and she is ever +exercising benevolence and love—from the insect, that she +avoids treading on, her affection may be traced to that Being who +lives for ever.—And it is from her goodness her agreeable +qualities spring.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">The Benefit of bodily Pain.—Fortitude +the Basis of Virtue.—The Folly of Irresolution.</p> +<p>The children had been playing in the garden for some time, +whilst Mrs. Mason was reading alone. But she was suddenly +alarmed by the cries of Caroline, who ran into the room in great +distress. Mary quickly followed, and explaining the matter +said, that her sister had accidentally disturbed some wasps, who +were terrified, and of course stung her. Remedies were +applied to assuage the pain; yet all the time she uttered the +loudest and most silly complaints, regardless of the uneasiness +she gave those who were exerting themselves to relieve her.</p> +<p>In a short time the smart abated, and then her friend thus +addressed her, with more than usual gravity. I am sorry to +see a girl of your age weep on account of bodily pain; it is a +proof of a weak mind—a proof that you cannot employ +yourself about things of consequence. How often must I tell +you that the Most High is educating us for eternity?</p> +<p>‘The term virtue, comes from a word signifying +strength. Fortitude of mind is, therefore, the basis of +every virtue, and virtue belongs to a being, that is weak in its +nature, and strong only in will and resolution.’</p> +<p>Children early feel bodily pain, to habituate them <a +name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 78</span>to bear the +conflicts of the soul, when they become reasonable +creatures. This, I say, is the first trial, and I like to +see that proper pride which strives to conceal its +sufferings. Those who, when young, weep if the least trifle +annoys them, will never, I fear, have sufficient strength of +mind, to encounter all the miseries that can afflict the body, +rather than act meanly to avoid them. Indeed, this seems to +be the essential difference between a great and a little mind: +the former knows how to endure—whilst the latter suffers an +immortal soul to be depressed, lost in its abode; suffers the +inconveniences which attack the one to overwhelm the other. +The soul would always support the body, if its superiority was +felt, and invigorated by exercise. The Almighty, who never +afflicts but to produce some good end, first sends diseases to +children to teach them patience and fortitude; and when by +degrees they have learned to bear them, they have acquired some +virtue.</p> +<p>In the same manner, cold or hunger, when accidentally +encountered, are not evils; they make <i>us feel what wretches +feel</i>, and teach us to be tender-hearted. Many of your +fellow-creatures daily bear what you cannot for a moment endure +without complaint. Besides, another advantage arises from +it, after you have felt hunger, you will not be very anxious to +choose the particular kind of food that is to satisfy it. +You will then be freed from a frivolous care.</p> +<p>When it is necessary to take a nauseous draught, swallow it at +once, and do not make others sick whilst you are hesitating, +though you know that you ought to take it. If a tooth is to +be drawn, or any other disagreeable operation to be performed, +determine resolutely that it shall be done immediately; and +debate not, when you clearly see the step that you ought to +take. If I see a child act in this way, I am <a +name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 79</span>ready to +embrace it, my soul yearns for it—I perceive the dawning of +a character that will be useful to society, as it prepares its +soul for a nobler field of action.</p> +<p>Believe me, it is the patient endurance of pain, that will +enable you to resist your passions; after you have borne bodily +pain, you will have firmness enough to sustain the still more +excruciating agonies of the mind. You will not, to banish +momentary cares, plunge into dissipation, nor to escape a present +inconvenience, forget that you should hold fast virtue as the +only substantial good.</p> +<p>I should not value the affection of a person who would not +bear pain and hunger to serve me; nor is that benevolence warm, +which shrinks from encountering difficulties, when it is +necessary, in order to be useful to any fellow-creature.</p> +<p>There is a just pride, a noble ambition in some minds, that I +greatly admire. I have seen a little of it in Mary! for +whilst she pities others, she imagines that she could bear their +inconveniences herself; and she seems to feel more uneasiness, +when she observes the sufferings of others, than I could ever +trace on her countenance under the immediate pressure of +pain.</p> +<p>Remember you are to bear patiently the infirmities of the +weakest of your fellow-creatures; but to yourselves you are not +to be equally indulgent.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Journey to London.</p> +<p>The girls were visibly improved; an air of intelligence began +to animate Caroline’s fine features; and benevolence gave +her eyes the humid sparkle which is so beautiful and +engaging. The interest that we <a name="page80"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 80</span>take in the fate of others, attaches +them to ourselves;—thus Caroline’s goodness inspired +more affection than her beauty.</p> +<p>Mary’s judgment grew every day clearer; or, more +properly speaking, she acquired experience; and her lively +feelings fixed the conclusions of reason in her mind. +Whilst Mrs. Mason was rejoicing in their apparent improvement, +she received a letter from their father, requesting her to allow +his daughters to spend the winter in town, as he wished to +procure them the best masters, an advantage that the country did +not afford. With reluctance she consented, determining to +remain with them a short time; and preparations were quickly made +for the journey.</p> +<p>The wished for morning arrived, and they set off in a tumult +of spirits; sorry to leave the country, yet delighted with the +prospect of visiting the metropolis. This hope soon dried +the tears which had bedewed their cheeks; for the parting with +Mrs. Mason was not anticipated. The autumnal views were new +to them; they saw the hedges exhibit various colours, and the +trees stripped of their leaves; but they were not disposed to +moralize.</p> +<p>For some time after their arrival, every thing they saw +excited wonder and admiration; and not till they were a little +familiarized with the new objects, did they ask reasonable +questions.</p> +<p>Several presents recruited their purses; and they requested +Mrs. Mason to allow them to buy some trifles they were in want +of. The request was modest, and she complied.</p> +<h3><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +81</span>CHAPTER XXIII</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Charity.—Shopping.—The distressed +Stationer.—Mischievous Consequences of delaying +Payment.</p> +<p>As they walked in search of a shop, they both determined to +purchase pocket-books; but their friend desired them not to spend +all their money at once, as they would meet many objects of +charity in the numerous streets of the metropolis. I do not +wish you, she continued, to relieve every beggar that you +casually meet; yet should any one attract your attention, obey +the impulse of your heart, which will lead you to pay them for +exercising your compassion, and do not suffer the whispers of +selfishness, that they may be impostors, to deter you. +However, I would have you give but a trifle when you are not +certain the distress is real, and reckon it given for +pleasure. I for my part would rather be deceived five +hundred times, than doubt once without reason.</p> +<p>They stopped at a small shop, Mrs. Mason always sought out +such; for, said she, I may help those who perhaps want +assistance; bargains I never seek, for I wish every one to +receive the just value for their goods.</p> +<p>In the shop which they chanced to enter, they did not find the +kind of pocket-book that they had previously fixed on, and +therefore wished precipitately to leave it; but were detained by +their more considerate friend. While they had been turning +over the trinkets, the countenance of the woman, who served them, +caught her eye, and she observed her eager manner of recommending +the books. You have given much unnecessary trouble, said +she, to the mistress of the shop; the books are better, and more +expensive than <a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>you intended to purchase, but I will make up the +deficiency. A beam of pleasure enlivened the woman’s +swollen eyes; and Mrs. Mason, in the mild accents of compassion, +said, if it is not an impertinent question, will you tell me from +what cause your visible distress arises? perhaps I may have it in +my power to relieve you.—The woman burst into +tears.—Indeed, Madam, you have already relieved me; for the +money you have laid out will enable me to procure some food for +my poor little grandchildren, and to send a meal to their poor +father, who is now confined for debt, though a more honest man +never breathed. Ah! Madam, I little thought I should come +to this—Yesterday his wife died, poor soul! I really +believe things going so cross broke her heart. He has been +in jail these five months; I could not manage the shop, or buy +what was proper to keep up the credit of it, so business has been +continually falling off; yet, if his debts were paid, he would +now be here, and we should have money in our pockets. And +what renders it more provoking, the people who owe us most are +very rich. It is true, they live in such a very high style, +and keep such a number of horses and servants, that they are +often in want of money, and when they have it, they mostly have +some freak in their heads, and do not think of paying poor +trades-people. At first we were afraid to ask for payment +lest we should lose their custom, and so it proved; when we did +venture, forced by necessity, they sent to other shops, without +discharging our demand.</p> +<p>And, my dear Madam, this is not all my grief; my son, before +his misfortunes, was one of the most sober, industrious young men +in London; but now he is not like the same man. He had +nothing to do in the jail, and to drive away care he learned to +drink; he <a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +83</span>said it was a comfort to forget himself, and he would +add an oath—I never heard him swear till then. I took +pains when he was a child to teach him his prayers, and he +rewarded me by being a dutiful son. The case is quite +altered now—he seems to have lost all natural +affection—he heeds not his mother’s tears.—Her +sobs almost suffocated her, as she strove to go on—He will +bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave—and yet I pity +my poor boy, he is shut up with such a number of profligate +wretches, who laugh at what is right. Every farthing I send +him he spends in liquor, and used to make his poor wife pawn her +clothes to buy him drink—she was happy to die, it was well +for her not to live to hear the babe she gave suck to despise +her!</p> +<p>A passion of tears relieved the sufferer, and she called her +grandchildren; these innocent babes, said she, I shall not be +able to keep them, they must go to the workhouse. If the +quality did but know what they make us poor industrious people +suffer—surely they would be more considerate.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason gave her something to supply her present wants, and +promised to call on her again before she left town.</p> +<p>They walked silently down two or three streets; I hope you +have learned to think, my dear girls, said Mrs. Mason, and that +your hearts have felt the emotions of compassion; need I make any +comments on the situation of the poor woman we have just +left. You perceive that those who neglect to pay their +debts, do more harm than they imagine; perhaps, indeed, some of +these very people do, what is called, a noble action, give away a +large sum, and are termed generous; nay, very probably, weep at a +tragedy, or when reading an affecting tale. They then boast +of their sensibility—when, alas! neglecting the foundation +<a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>of all +virtue, <i>justice</i>, they have occasioned exquisite +distress;—led a poor wretch into vice; heaped misery on +helpless infancy, and drawn tears from the aged widow.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Visit to a poor Family in +London.—Idleness the Parent of Vice.—Prodigality and +Generosity incompatible.—The Pleasures of +Benevolence.—True and false Motives for saving.</p> +<p>After the impression which the story, and the sight of the +family had made, was a little worn off; Caroline begged leave to +buy one toy, and then another, till her money was quite +gone. When Mrs. Mason found it was all expended, she looked +round for an object in distress; a poor woman soon presented +herself, and her meagre countenance gave weight to her +tale.—A babe, as meagre, hung at her breast, which did not +seem to contain sufficient moisture to wet its parched lips.</p> +<p>On enquiry they found that she lodged in a neighbouring +garret. Her husband had been out of employment a long time, +and was now sick. The master who had formerly given him +work, lost gradually great part of his business; for his best +customers were grown so fond of foreign articles, that his goods +grew old in the warehouse. Consequently a number of hands +were dismissed, who not immediately finding employment elsewhere, +were reduced to the most extreme distress. The truth of +this account a reputable shopkeeper attested; and he added that +many of the unhappy creatures, who die unpitied at the gallows, +were first led into vice by accidental idleness.</p> +<p><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>They +ascended the dark stairs, scarcely able to bear the bad smells +that flew from every part of a small house, that contained in +each room a family, occupied in such an anxious manner to obtain +the necessaries of life, that its comforts never engaged their +thoughts. The precarious meal was snatched, and the stomach +did not turn, though the cloth, on which it was laid, was died in +dirt. When to-morrow’s bread is uncertain, who thinks +of cleanliness? Thus does despair increase the misery, and +consequent disease aggravate the horrors of poverty!</p> +<p>They followed the woman into a low garret, that was never +visited by the chearful rays of the sun.—A man, with a +sallow complexion, and long beard, sat shivering over a few +cinders in the bottom of a broken grate, and two more children +were on the ground, half naked, near him, breathing the same +noxious air. The gaiety natural to their age, did not +animate their eyes, half sunk in their sockets; and, instead of +smiles, premature wrinkles had found a place in their lengthened +visages. Life was nipped in the bud; shut up just as it +began to unfold itself. ‘A frost, a killing +frost,’ had destroyed the parent’s hopes; they seemed +to come into the world only to crawl half formed,—to +suffer, and to die.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason desired the girls to relieve the family; Caroline +hung down her head abashed—wishing the paltry ornaments +which she had thoughtlessly bought, in the bottom of the +sea. Mary, meanwhile, proud of the new privilege, emptied +her purse; and Caroline, in a supplicating tone, entreated Mrs. +Mason to allow her to give her neck-handkerchief to the little +infant.</p> +<p>Mrs. Mason desired the woman to call on her the next day; and +they left the family cheered by their bounty.</p> +<p><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>Caroline expected the reproof that soon proceeded from +the mouth of her true friend. I am glad that this accident +has occurred, to prove to you that prodigality and generosity are +incompatible. Economy and self-denial are necessary in +every station, to enable us to be generous, and to act +conformably to the rules of justice.</p> +<p>Mary may this night enjoy peaceful slumbers; idle Fancies, +foolishly indulged, will not float in her brain; she may, before +she closes her eyes, thank God, for allowing her to be His +instrument of mercy. Will the trifles that you have +purchased, afford you such heartfelt delight, Caroline?</p> +<p>Selfish people save to gratify their own caprices and +appetites; the benevolent curb both, to give scope to the nobler +feelings of the human heart. When we squander money idly, +we defraud the poor, and deprive our own souls of their most +exalted food. If you wish to be useful, govern your +desires, and wait not till distress obtrudes itself—search +it out. In the country it is not always attended with such +shocking circumstances as at present; but in large cities, many +garrets contain families, similar to those we have seen this +afternoon. The money spent in indulging the vain wishes of +idleness, and a childish fondness for pretty things not regulated +by reason, would relieve the misery that my soul shrinks back +from contemplating.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p86.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Economy and self-denial are necessary in every station" +title= +"Economy and self-denial are necessary in every station" +src="images/p86.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV</h3> +<p class="gutsumm">Mrs. Mason’s farewell Advice to her +young Friends.</p> +<p>The day before Mrs. Mason was to leave her pupils, she took a +hand of each, and pressing them tenderly in her own, tears +started into her eyes—I tremble for <a +name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>you, my dear +girls, for you must now practise by yourselves some of the +virtues which I have been endeavouring to inculcate; and I shall +anxiously wait for the summer, to see what progress you have made +by yourselves.</p> +<p>We have conversed on several very important subjects; pray do +not forget the conclusions I have drawn. I now, as my last +present, give you a book, in which I have written the subjects +that we have discussed. Recur frequently to it, for the +stories illustrating the instruction it contains, you will not +feel in such a great degree the want of my personal advice. +Some of the reasoning you may not thoroughly comprehend, but, as +your understandings ripen, you will feel its full force.</p> +<p>Avoid anger; exercise compassion; and love truth. +Recollect, that from religion your chief comfort must spring, and +never neglect the duty of prayer. Learn from experience the +comfort that arises from making known your wants and sorrows to +the wisest and best of Beings, in whose hands are the issues, not +only of this life, but of that which is to come.</p> +<p>Your father will allow you a certain stipend; you have already +<i>felt</i> the pleasure of doing good; ever recollect that the +wild pursuits of fancy must be conquered, to enable you to +gratify benevolent wishes, and that you must practise economy in +trifles to have it in your power to be generous on great +occasions. And the good you intend to do, do +quickly;—for know that a trifling duty neglected, is a +great fault, and the present time only is at your command.</p> +<p>You are now candidates for my friendship, and on your +advancement in virtue my regard will in future depend. +Write often to me, I will punctually answer your letters; but let +me have the genuine sentiments of your hearts. In +expressions of affection and <a name="page88"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 88</span>respect, do not deviate from truth to +gain what you wish for, or to turn a period prettily.</p> +<p>Adieu! when you think of your friend, observe her precepts; +and let the recollection of my affection, give additional weight +to the truths which I have endeavoured to instill; and, to reward +my care, let me hear that you love and practice virtue.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">FINIS.</span></p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT'S ORIGINAL</p> +<pre> +STORIES*** + + +***** This file should be named 36507-h.htm or 36507-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/5/0/36507 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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