MRS. V. Very sorry, for what, Julia? because the lamb is hurt? because you have no flowers? or because Mary will come home to-morrow?
JULIA. Oh, no, mamma, not that. I am glad my dear Mary will come home to-morrow. I am sorry I have no flowers to put into her room. I wished, so very much, to ornament her room with flowers, to surprise her, that though I was sorry to see the lamb in pain, and bleeding, do you know, mamma, I was near leaving it where it was, and gathering the bow-pot, instead of carrying it to Miss Beauchamp.
MRS. V. What determined you, my dear, to assist the lamb?
JULIA. Why first, mamma, I thought it was not like Mary, to leave it in its distress. Then I remembered, she would know nothing about the matter, so I fixed to gather the primroses; but just as I settled so to do, I recollected that you told me, this morning, that God was merciful and kind to all things, and that we ought to endeavour to resemble Him: I mean, to resemble Him as much as we can. You know, mamma, if we try and try for ever, we shall never be as good as God is. I was afraid God would be displeased if I were cruel to the poor lamb. Now, though Mary would not know I had been naughty, I was sure God would, as he sees and knows all that is done in the world. Did I think rightly, mamma?
MRS. V. I am; I am always glad when you are good. I am pleased you remember what you read, and what you are taught. I rejoice too, to find that you make a proper use of the knowledge you possess. It is of no use to know that God sees and hears us at all times, if we do not take care to act in a manner that is pleasing to him.
Mrs. Vincent then kissed her little daughter, and patted her rosy cheek, Julia stood by her mother’s side a few minutes, without speaking, and then said,
“After all, my being good was of no use, mamma?”
MRS. V. How so? I do not understand you, Julia.
JULIA. Do not you recollect, mamma, I told you, Sir Henry and Lady Beauchamp, and two servants, as well as Miss Beauchamp, were all come out to look for the lamb. They would have turned up the lane where the lamb was; so that if I had gathered my bow-pot, Bello (that is the name of the lamb) would have been taken care of, just the same. It would have been the same thing—no, not the same thing, for I should have had the flowers for Mary.