Назад к книге «Aunt Harding's Keepsakes» [Unknown Unknown]

Aunt Harding's Keepsakes

Unknown Unknown

Anonymous

Aunt Harding's Keepsakes / The Two Bibles

CHAPTER I: GUESSING

"Can you guess," said Louisa to her sister, as they sat at their work in the summer-house, "can you guess what aunt Harding will give us, as a keepsake, before she goes away?"

"No, I have not thought about it," said Emma; "and aunt has lately given us so many pretty things, that we can scarcely expect any more for a long time to come. There is my doll and its cradle, you know, and your baby-house and furniture, how much money they cost! No, I do not think aunt intends to give us anything else."

"But I am quite sure she will," replied Louisa; "for I was going past mamma's dressing-room this morning, when the door was a little way open, and I heard aunt Harding say, 'I should like to give the dear girls something really useful, which they may value as they grow older.' I did not hear anymore, because mamma has always told us it is not right to listen, and so I came away as fast as I could."

"Well, I wonder what the present will be?" said Emma, now quite convinced.

"What should you think of two handsome work-boxes—or, perhaps, as I am the eldest, of a work-box for yourself, and writing-desk for me?"

"That would be charming!" said Emma; "and I would let you use my work-box, and you could lend me your writing-desk sometimes."

"I will not make any promises," said Louisa; "you know you are very careless, and I should not like my nice new desk to be stained with ink, or, perhaps, scratched with the point of a pin."

"But mamma says I am growing more careful," said her sister; "and I do not think I am so heedless about other people's things, though I often spoil my own."

"Remember my wax doll," said Louisa, "which you left in the garden through that heavy shower of rain, so that I could never play with it again."

"O, that was such a very long time ago!" said Emma, looking a little vexed.

"Perhaps it will not be a writing-desk nor a work-box that aunt Harding will give us," said Louisa; "there are many other things which we should like. I wish she would ask us to choose."

"So do I," added Emma; "but there is nothing that I should like better than a work-box."

Louisa thought of many other things which she should be glad to have; for she was apt to indulge in a foolish habit of wishing for what she was not likely to possess. It is a bad thing to give way to this failing; for by doing so we may often make ourselves unhappy, without any good or real cause. People who do so should think of the words of St. Paul: "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." Philip. iv, 11. And children, who have kind parents or friends to provide for all their wants, should learn that it is very sinful to let the thoughts be often dwelling upon things that they cannot have, and do not really need. Pray for a grateful heart, that you may rejoice in the blessings that surround you, and be thankful to your heavenly Father, who gives you all things richly to enjoy.

CHAPTER II: THE PRESENTS

Mrs. Harding, the aunt of these little girls, had been paying a farewell visit to their mamma, before going with Mr. Harding to India, where it was likely that they would remain for some years. She had kindly given many little presents to her nieces during her stay with them; but they were such as Louisa and Emma would cease to value when they became old enough to "put away childish things;" and being a person of piety and judgment, she wished her last gift to be one which might be worthy of their regard in youth and in age, and through all the changes of life. It did not take any long time to determine what this parting gift should be.

The evening before she went away, she called Louisa and Emma into the room. They both looked round upon the table and chests of drawers, but no sign of a present was to be seen; no parcel neatly wrapped up in brown paper, nor anything like a work-box or a desk. But, to do them justice, the thought of what they might receive was not then uppermost in their mind; for their heart was ful