by Roy J. Snell
Lillia was able to touch the top of the arbor with the tips ofher toes. Then she cried out,--
"Push away, Minnie! It swings nicely, don't it?"
"Yes, it's a capital swing," replied Minnie, who was almost out ofbreath through her labor in swinging her companion.
But Lillia kept swinging on, laughing and chatting in great glee,without once offering to give Minnie a chance to enjoy it; but whenevershe failed to swing her briskly, cried out,--
"Push away, Minnie! It is capital fun!"
Minnie bore this selfish treatment a long time. But finding herselfvery tired, and seeing that Lillia showed no disposition to relieveher, she stopped, and began to tie on her bonnet, and to place hershawl on her shoulders.
"Where are you going, Minnie?" asked Lillia.
"I am going home," replied Minnie.
"Well, that's real hateful in you," answered the selfish Lillia. Shedid not seem to see that the ugliness was in her own conduct, and notin Minnie's. She had really abused her gentle companion, who had borneher selfish conduct without a word of complaint. But Minnie now thoughtit was time to bear this treatment no longer. So the only reply shemade to Lillia's reproachful speech was to say,--
"Good by, Lillia."
And she tripped along the garden, out at the gate, and up the street,saying to herself, "I must love Lillia, if she is selfish. I hope Ishall never treat others as she has treated me."
Not long after this little incident, Minnie's father was seen with aladder, busily employed among the branches of a grand old oak tree,which stood on the greensward in the rear of his house. While thusemployed, Minnie came home from school. Seeing her father in the tree,she ran into the yard, and asked,--
"Pa, please tell me what you are doing."
"What do you think I am doing, Minnie?"
"I don't know, pa; but this coil of rope makes me think you are fixingme a swing."
"Well, suppose I am; what then?"
"O, then I shall be very happy, for I want a swing very much."
"Well, that is what I am doing, Minnie. In half an hour you will haveas good a swing as you can desire."
"Thank you, dear pa. I shall love you better than ever, and I shall beso happy to have a swing."
And then Minnie jumped round upon the grass, and hummed a pretty littlesong. She was so pleased she hardly knew how to express her joy. Soshe carolled it forth like the birds, in a sweet and simple song. Aftersome minutes spent in singing and watching her father, she said,--
"Pa!"
"What do you want, Minnie?"
"May I go and invite Fanny, and Rhoda, and Jeannie to try my new swingwhen it is done?"
"Certainly, my child. Run and get them. The swing will soon be ready."
Minnie ran off in search of her playmates. She did not invite Lillia.Not because she bore any ill will towards her, but because she knewher presence would only prevent the other girls from being happy.Selfish Lillia would want to swing all the time. In a short time shereturned with her three friends. The swing was ready; and Minnie said,--
"Fanny shall swing first, because she is the youngest. Then Jeannieshall have a turn, and then Rhoda."
"But when will you swing yourself, Minnie?" inquired one of the girls.
"O, never, mind me; I can swing any time, you know."
Then the girls began to swing, and Minnie was never happier than whileshe was thus busied in affording her schoolmates pleasure.
This was a secret she had learned from her mother. And it is a veryprecious secret, which very few persons understand. Lillia did notunderstand it; for she always looked after her own pleasure alone. Yetthere was not a more unhappy child in that village than Lillia. ButMinnie had found out that to make others happy was to be happy herself.You may feel sure, therefore, that this first trial of her swing wasmuch more delightful to her than Lillia's was to her. Her three friendswere highly gratified, and when they had all had a good swing, theyexclaimed,--
"Now, Minnie, you must get in, and we will swing you."
Then Minnie jumped into the seat of the swing. Fanny and Jeannie stoodin front of her, to push the swing back-wards, and Rhoda stood behindon the opposite side, to push her forwards. A right merry time shehad, until it was necessary for them to part.
"You will come again soon, girls, won't you?" said she to her happylittle friends.
"Yes, good Minnie, we will. You are so kind, you may be sure we willcome again."
Then they all kissed her, and wished her good evening.
"Good evening, girls," she replied; and then she sprang, agile as afawn and fresh as a fairy, into the house.
Minnie was not one of those children who have two sides to theircharacter. Some boys and girls are like the statue of a noblepersonage, which was brass on one side and iron on the other. When fromhome, they appear mild, gentle, obliging; but when with their parents,they are fretful, peevish, and disobedient. Minnie was the same gentle,obedient little being at home as she was abroad. But even there she hadher little trials.
She was very fond of reading. No little girl read a good story with agreater relish than Minnie. And, like all other children, she did notlove to be disturbed in the midst of an interesting book. But she hadfound that this disposition needed to be brought under control, or itwould lead her astray.
A pretty story is easier to read than a dry lesson. Many little girlsneglect the lesson for the story, because the latter is the easiest.Minnie often felt tempted to do this. One evening, just as she sat downto get her lessons for the next day, her father brought in her favoritemagazine. She was greatly interested in certain parts of it, and hadbeen looking for it anxiously several days. When her father laid it onthe table, he said,--
"Here is a new number of your magazine, Minnie."
"O, I am so glad, pa! Do let me see it!"
Mr. Brown gave it to her. She carefully cut its leaves, and was soonbusy in looking at its pictures, stories, and puzzles. Her lessons wereentirely put out of mind, and the poor spelling book and geographylooked quite forsaken, as they lay pushed aside on the table.
Her good mother silently watched Minnie. She knew it was too late forher to read the magazine, and to get her lessons besides. She also knewthat Minnie _ought_ to get the lessons. Yet she felt loath to try her,by bidding her lay the magazine aside. Hence she waited to see whatMinnie would do.
Minnie had got fairly and fully interested in the charming littlemagazine. A half hour had passed since her father gave it to her,and still she was poring over its pages. It was plain that she hadforgotten the lessons entirely.
"Minnie!" said her mother.
"Yes, ma!" replied the little girl, without taking her eyes from thebook.
"Minnie, my child! Are your lessons learned?"
"No, mamma!"
"Had you not better study them, Minnie, and leave the magazine untilto-morrow?"
"Can't I finish this story first, mother?" asked she, while a slightcloud of impatience gathered on her brow.
"Does my Minnie think it _right_ to neglect her lesson for themagazine?" asked her mother, gravely.
"No, mother, it is not," replied the child, roused by this appeal toher sense of right.
"Then what will you do, Minnie?"
"Study my lesson, mother," said she, firmly, as she resolutely closedthe magazine, and handed it to her mother, adding, "Please, mother,keep it until to-morrow. It is so interesting, I am afraid I shall readit if I keep it myself."
This was a noble act in a little girl. It was an act of self-conquestwhich very few children would have done so readily. I like her plan ofgiving the magazine to her mother. It was putting a means of temptationout of the way. It was easier for her to study the lessons with themagazine out of sight, than it would have been to keep it lying on thetable. Thus did Minnie triumph over an indoor trial.
On another occasion, Minnie was very busy over her lessons, and shewas very anxious to get them well. She had just begun a new study. Itwas difficult at first, and required all the attention
she could giveto it. But Minnie was not one of those children who say, "I can't,"to every hard lesson. She always said to every duty, "I'll try;" andshe was trying with all her might, when her mother called to her, andsaid,--
"Minnie!"
"Yes, mother!"
"I want you, my child."
Now, some children whom I have seen, when thus disturbed, have lookedvery cross. Their eyes have flashed with angry fires, and they havebeen wont to use pert words, such as, "Can't you let me get my lesson?""What do you want?" "I should think you would like to have me study;"and similar wicked phrases.
But Minnie did not belong to this class of girls. It was not often hermother called her off from her studies. She was a sensible woman;
