Alice went on reading the sister's account of the little Agnes and her pet kangaroo:—
"One day, as she opened the gate, it escaped, and bounded off into our neighbour's plantation. Agnes followed, fearing it might do mischief, climbed over the low wall which separated the two gardens, and after a long chase succeeded in capturing the fugitive. Some minutes afterwards my mother came into the garden, and was horror-struck to see her returning from the pursuit—the kangaroo, which she held bravely by its ears, struggling wildly for freedom, and tearing at her with its hind feet; while her dress was streaming with blood from the wounds inflicted by its nails."
"I say!" exclaimed Theodore involuntarily, "I'd have let the horrid beast go!"
"But she would not do so," continued Alice, still reading, "until she got it safely into its house; although it was many a long day before she lost the marks of her battle and its victory."
"She was a gallant little soul!" exclaimed Theodore. "What a pity it is that Agnes was a girl, and not a boy! For, after all, courage is not of much use to a woman."
"I am not sure of that," replied Alice; "nor, perhaps, would you think so, were you to read this beautiful Life. Agnes left a bright, happy home, to watch as a nurse by the sick-beds of the poor. Though she was a lady born and bred, she shrank from no drudgery, grumbled at no hardship: she worked hard, and she worked cheerfully, looking for no reward upon earth. Agnes had to struggle against great difficulties; but she mastered them just as she had mastered the kangaroo when she was a child."
"And got nothing by it," said Theodore Vassy. "One might suffer, and struggle, and conquer difficulties, if, like Harry the Fifth, one had a crown to make it worth while."
"There was a crown for Agnes," observed Alice gravely; "but not one that man could give, or that she could wear upon earth. The artist who drew that picture—" Alice glanced as she spoke at the print in the hand of her brother—"has made Prince Henry look upwards, as if praying to be made worthy to have a crown. Agnes Jones's was a life-long looking upwards—a life-long trying on, as it were, of the crown prepared for such as love their Heavenly King;—and I believe," added Alice, as she closed her volume, "that after her brave struggles and her victories, Agnes Jones has gone to wear that crown."
YOU never need fear, little children, to meet
A wolf in the garden, the wood, or the street;
Red Riding-hood's story is only a fable,—
I'll give you its moral as well as I'm able:
Bad Temper's the wolf which we meet everywhere—
Beware of this wolf! Little children, beware!
I know of a boy, neither gentle nor wise,
If you tell him a fault, he gives saucy replies;
If kept from his way, in a fury he flies—
Ah! Passion's the wolf with the very large eyes;
'Tis ready to snap and to trample and tear—
Beware of this wolf! Little children, beware!
I know of a girl always trying to learn
About things with which she should have no concern:
Such mean Curiosity really appears
To me like the wolf with the very large ears,
All pricked up to listen, each secret to share—
Beware of this wolf! Little children, beware!
And Greediness, that's like the wolf in the wood
With the very large mouth, ever prowling for food,
That eats so much more than for health can be good;
That would clear a whole pastry-cook's shop if it could;
That never a dainty to others will spare—
Beware of this wolf! Little children, beware!
PASSION, PRYING, and GREEDINESS, each thus appears
As a wolf with fierce eyes, a large mouth, or big ears;
They bring to our nurseries fighting and fears,
They cause bitter quarrelling, trouble, and tears.
Oh! Chase them and cudgel them back to their lair—
Beware of the wolves! Little children, beware!