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. You did, my dear.
Julia. Are you glad, 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.
Mrs. V. Stop, Julia; let us consider a little before you proceed. Perhaps it would not have been the same thing to the lamb; certainly it would not have been so to you. First, it is possible Sir Henry and Lady Beauchamp might not have turned up the lane where the lamb was; they might have walked straight on. Supposing, after they had looked in other places, they had, at last, found the poor animal, the length of time it might have lain without assistance, would have added greatly to its sufferings. The other day, when you fell off the stile, cut your hand, and beat the gravel into the wound, I fancy it would not have been the same thing to you, whether I had attended to it or not? If, instead of returning directly to the house, soaking your hand in warm water, cleaning it from the stones and dirt, and putting sticking plaster over it to keep the air from it, I had first finished my walk and had left your hand bleeding, with the gravel sticking in it, for an hour or two, you would have suffered a great deal more pain.