Miss Lydia Lively was sitting one day in the parlour, upon a little stool, reading the History of Little Ann and Little James, when her Mamma, who had been out some hours on a visit, came in. The little girl ran to her with great joy, and told her, that her aunt had called, and had given her the prettiest little book she ever read.

Lydia.

It is about a little girl, Mamma, just my age; and it tells you every thing that she did; and how well she behaved; and there are some nice pictures in it—I wish I had a great many such little books.

Mamma.

Then you like to read stories about good girls, do you, Lydia?

Lydia.

Yes, I do; do not you, Mamma?

Mamma.

Yes; and to see them too. I think there is nothing so delightful as the company of Children who are gentle and good-humoured; and who are cheerful and ready to oblige, without being troublesome or noisy.

Lydia.

I wish I had some more stories about good girls and boys.

Mamma.

Should you like to have a story written about you, Lydia? Do you think it would be a pretty one?

Lydia.

I am afraid I am not good enough, Mamma.

Mamma.

Indeed I doubt there would be some things in the story not quite so pretty. I suspect we should sometimes hear something about whining for a cup of tea; asking ten times for the same thing; or, what is still worse, being cross and impatient with poor little Edwin, if he meddle with any of your things.

Lydia.

Oh! Mamma: but I am good sometimes; and I am sure I always wish to be good, and am uncomfortable whenever I am not; but I do not know how it is,—I think I cannot help being naughty sometimes.

Mamma.

Pray do not fancy so my dear; you certainly might help it; but I will tell you the real case—you just follow your present inclination; instead of resolving always to do what is right, you sit down, perhaps, with an inclination to be very good at your lessons, and to read very well, and translate your French very well; as long as that inclination lasts you proceed with pleasure; but you happen to meet with something in your books not quite so entertaining as you expected, or a little difficult, and then you have an inclination to fret, or to look off your book, and complain of being tired; or it may be, you come into the room very good-humoured and cheerful, and find somebody has taken your seat, or that you cannot have the book you wished for, and then you have an inclination directly to whine, grumble, and draw your lip on one side; and, I am sorry to say, Lydia, you are too apt to give way to such inclinations.

Lydia.

What must I do then, Mamma?

Mamma.

I will tell you, my dear, you must, in the first place, very heartily wish to be good; and that I hope you do. In the next place, you must, when you say your prayers, very earnestly beg of God to make you good; and then, instead of doing just what you have a mind to do, you must resolve with yourself, and try upon all occasions, not to do any thing you know is wrong, and which I have told you not to do.

Lydia.

Do you think, if I were to try then, I could always be good, Madam?

Mamma.

Certainly! if you tried you might avoid doing a great many wrong things. Suppose now, when you sat down to breakfast, and felt impatient for your tea or your roll,—do you think, if you considered a minute, that it is greedy and impatient to say any thing about it, that you could not help asking for your tea before any body was helped, or whining if the rolls did not come in directly; and that you could not try to amuse yourself by thinking of something else for a little while?

Lydia.

Yes; I think I could.

Mamma.

To be sure you could, my dear; and so in every other instance. If you do not feel disposed to get your lessons, and do your work at the proper times; yet if you did but reflect how fit it is that you should learn and improve yourself, and what a fault idleness is, you may help fretting and saying, I do not like to do this; and you may resolve to keep on and do as well as you can, without making any complaints.

Lydia.

I am not very often naughty about reading, Mamma?

Mamma.

Not very often; but that is because you love reading; now I want you to do every thing, because you think it is right and fit you should do it; and then you will do those duties you do not find any great pleasure in, as well as those you delight in. And above all things, I wish you to watch constantly over your temper, to be ever ready to oblige, and do all innocent things, because you are desired; and keep yourself always in a good-humour.

Lydia.

But sometimes things happen to tease me, and make me fret.

Mamma.

Then is the time to try to get the better of yourself; things may not always go as you like; but nothing can make you fret unless you will: for example, if little Edwin come in and catch up your book, or your doll, we suppose you had rather he let them alone, but you need not make a great noise, and whine, and call him a naughty boy, and run and snatch them roughly from him; you may speak in a good-humoured tone of voice, and say, Pray, Edwin, give me my book, or any thing else he has; and if he did not attend to that, as he is but a little boy, you could wait quietly a little while, till he laid it down, though you might know you would have liked better to have it then; and that would not be half so uncomfortable to you as putting yourself in a passion; worrying your spirits, and making yourself disagreeable to every body in the room; do you think it would?

Lydia.

No; I do not know that it would; for I am never happy when I fret and scold, nor when I have vexed you. I will try, Mamma, if you will love me dearly.

Little Lydia, as she spoke these last words, threw her arms round her Mamma’s neck; her Mamma gave her a very affectionate kiss, and then said, That I will, my love; and as a mean to assist you in your endeavours, I will, every evening, after you are gone to bed, write a story about you, to tell how you have behaved all day; and the next morning, when we all meet in the parlour, I will read it aloud; and I think you will be much better pleased with the story when you have been a good girl, than when you have been naughty.

Lydia.

Oh! dear, Mamma! when I have been naughty I shall not like at all to have the story read before every body.

Mamma.

Then you must take a great deal of care how you behave; you must recollect yourself to-morrow morning when you rise; in the evening I shall begin my story.