THE DEAD GOLDFINCH.
Kate and Blanche had a bird, which they had long fed and nursed with the tenderest care. One day, it was found dead on the floor of the room, its little feet shrunk on its body, its wings outspread, and its head bloody; how did this happen? Blanche wept, and blamed Kate; Kate wept, and blamed Blanche: nothing but reproach and mourning was to be heard. The Aunt came in, to inquire into the matter. Both the girls began speaking at the same time, each blaming the other. "I do not like this," said the Aunt; "this is neither just nor kind; I do suppose you both have been to blame; and I must tell you, that in this instance, as in all others, it does not lessen our own faults to prove that others have erred with us. Indeed, I think it adds to our fault thus to accuse and reproach others. One of you left the cage on the very edge of the table, it seems; and the other forgot to fasten the door of the cage, with the care it ought to have been done. Thus both were to blame; and it would please me more, and be more a sign of virtue in you, if you would each lament your own error, and not rudely upbraid each other."
The two girls felt the good sense of their dear friend's remarks, and saw their error. The very last Sunday, they had heard a fine sermon, on the text of the "mote" and "beam," and they had said, at the time, what a good sermon it was, and how just, and wise, and true, was every part of it. Yet, behold! within a little week, each word and sentence in it was forgotten. Such is often the fate of good advice. It is hoped the advice given in this little book will not so soon pass away; but that all those who read of Kate and Blanche, and their good Aunt, will bear in mind their sayings and their doings; and then, like them, they will learn to profit by what happens around them. They will learn to turn each event of life to some good purpose, either for themselves or others, and thus earn that cheerful old age, which they have just had described to them in the Harper's tale.