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Emily Gardiner taken prisoner by Agnes. 
 Page 43. 
 
AGNES AND ELIZA; 
 
 Inrailifq 
 
 FROM THE EDITION OF THE SOCIETY FOR 
 PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 NEW- YORK: 
 
 GENERAL PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION 
 
 Depository 20 John- Street. 
 
 1850, 
 
Pudetet & Russell, Printers 
 
AGNES AND ELIZA 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Do not have the shutters shut just 
 yet, if you please, aunt ; let me watch at 
 the window one quarter of an hour long- 
 er : I am sure Agnes must be here by 
 that time." 
 
 " My dear Eliza, you have been looking 
 out of that window half-an-hour already, 
 and you may yet have a good while to 
 wait; come, let Martha draw the cur- 
 tains, and do you help me to Wind this 
 
 J^ skein of silk, which has got sadly twisted. 
 
 /*>• We shall be sure to hear as soon as the 
 
 * chaise stops." 
 
 A 
 
b AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 Such was the way in which Mrs. Den- 
 ham and her niece waited the arrival of 
 Agnes, the sister of Eliza, from whom 
 she had been parted for what seemed to 
 them both a long time. Eliza tried in 
 vain, whilst holding her aunt's skein, to 
 remain still ; she was so full of the 
 thought of seeing Agnes. Presently ceas- 
 ing to talk, and listening very attentively, 
 she cried : " There, there, aunt : that is 
 the chaise, I am sure." She ran into the 
 hall, and soon the two sisters were in 
 each other's arms. The next minute 
 Eliza was leading Agnes towards Mrs. 
 Denham, to introduce her to that lady, 
 whom she never remembered to have 
 seen before. " This is Agnes, auift, come 
 after all. There, Agnes ; you have seen 
 Aunt Denham, at last." 
 
 Mrs. Denham drew the child nearer, 
 and gave her a kiss. " And how did you 
 leave your grandmama?" she asked; 
 " not the better, I am afraid, for having to 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 7 
 
 part with you : but she will be so, I trust, 
 by and by. And now I am sure that you 
 must be quite ready for some tea ; or, at 
 least, that you will be, when you are a 
 little less cold. So stand by the fire, and 
 warm yourself a few minutes ; I dare 
 say you are tired of sitting." 
 
 Though the joy of the sisters at meet- 
 ing was great, that of Agnes was a good 
 deal damped, because she had just left a 
 very kind grandmama, Mrs. Shaen. When 
 the servant, who had driven her over in 
 the chaise, came in to ask if Mrs. Denham 
 had any orders for him to take back to his 
 mistress, the little girl could scarcely pre- 
 vent crying : happily for her, however, 
 the evening was short ; for Mrs. Denham, 
 thinking that Agnes might possibly be 
 tired, and that the children would like to 
 be together, sent them both to bed early. 
 
 And there we will leave Agnes and 
 Eliza to rest, that I may tell you, my 
 young readers, something more about 
 
8 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 them. I dare say you would like to know- 
 how old these little girls were, and how 
 tall they were, and what they were like ; 
 all this, therefore, if you will wait pa- 
 tiently, you shall hear. 
 
 Agnes and Eliza were twins. They 
 had lost both their parents when they 
 were quite babies, and had since then 
 lived with Mrs. Shaen, their grandmama. 
 This lady was a very good and kind per- 
 son, and loved these little ones most ten- 
 derly. Their mother, Mrs. Graham, had 
 been the only daughter of Mrs. Shaen ; 
 at her death, she had given up her infants 
 to the care of their grandmama, who had, 
 from that time, watched over them with 
 the greatest affection, and they, in return, 
 loved her as a parent. Westcote, the 
 village in Somersetshire where she lived, 
 was a very pretty place, and there, under 
 their grandmama' s roof, the first years of 
 childhood were happily spent by the two 
 sisters ; more happily, indeed, by Agnes 
 
OR, HUMILITY. V 
 
 than by Eliza, the reason of which you 
 shall hear presently. 
 
 Now it happened, when these little 
 girls were about nine years old, that Mrs. 
 Shaen's health, which had always till then 
 been remarkably good, began to fail ; she 
 became subject to violent head-aches, 
 which often confined her to her room ; 
 and, even when free from these, she was 
 not able to walk out with her grand-chil- 
 dren, nor to teach them, as she had done 
 before. 
 
 So, after going on in this way for some 
 months, she began to feel that it would be 
 better for Agnes and Eliza to leave her, 
 at least for a little while ; and, just as she 
 was thinking about this, Mrs. Denham, an 
 aunt of the little girls, as you have heard, 
 though no relation to Mrs. Shaen, came to 
 settle in that part of the country. Before 
 this, she had lived a long way off, in the 
 north of England, and had not seen her 
 nieces since they were old enough to re- 
 2 
 
10 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 member her. Now, however, that she 
 was nearer to them, on hearing of their 
 grandmama's ill health, she wrote and 
 offered to receive Agaes and Eliza into 
 her house for the present. The proposal 
 was gladly accepted, and it was fixed 
 that Mrs. Denham should come over and 
 spend a few days at Westcote, and then 
 that the children should return with her 
 to her home at Barrow. But several 
 things occurred to prevent this, till at last 
 Mrs. Shaen resolved to wait no longer, 
 but to send Agnes and Eliza to their aunt 
 in her por^-chaise. As she could not 
 make up her mind to part with both at 
 once, Eliza went first, and Agnes, in 
 about ten da} r s, joined her. How she 
 was received by Mrs. Denham, and how 
 the sisters met, you have already heard. 
 
 But I have not yet told you, as I pro- 
 mised to do, about the appearance of 
 these little girls. They were now be- 
 tween nine and ten, and as tall as those 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 11 
 
 of that age usually are. Being twins, 
 they a good deal resembled one another ; 
 they were of the same height and size, 
 and had hair and eyes of the same dark 
 colour. In some other ways, too, they 
 were alike ; they were both lively and 
 affectionate, though rather backward for 
 their age. Yet there was a difference be- 
 tween them ; and it may help you, my 
 readers, to understand the reason of this 
 difference, if I tell you one or two things 
 which took place when Agnes and Eliza 
 were quite young children, living with 
 their grandmama at Westcote. 
 
 It happened, then, — to go back a little 
 in my story, — when they were both about 
 seven years old, that a cousin of theirs, 
 named Mary Rankin, was returning for 
 her first holidays, from a school at some 
 distance from her home, the road to 
 which lay near Westcote, and Mrs. Shaen 
 wished the child to spend a few days 
 with her on her way. Agnes and Eliza 
 
12 AGNES AND ELIZA ', 
 
 were very glad to have a companion, and 
 many a merry game of play did they 
 enjoy with her, for they were allowed 
 holidays during this visit, and, instead of 
 their usual lessons, they used to read some 
 interesting book all together. But one 
 morning, Mrs. Shaen said that she should 
 like to see how her little friend had been 
 getting on at school. So she bade the 
 three children sit down, and write a copy 
 which she would set them. Eliza and 
 her sister, however, were chiefly busied 
 in watching their cousin ; and so, when 
 their writing was finished, the letters were 
 very uneven and ugly. " My dears," 
 said their grandmama, as she looked at 
 them, "how is this? I know you can 
 make better strokes than these. 1 fear 
 you have been sadly inattentive. Come, 
 I will set you a fresh copy, and I shall 
 hope to see it better done." 
 
 Presently Mary brought her writing. 
 
 " Ah, that is very nice," said Mrs. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 13 
 
 Shaen. " I see you have been a good 
 little girl, and have taken pains. If you 
 continue to do the same at school, you 
 will soon find that you improve, and are 
 able to write much better than at present, 
 though that is pretty well for your age." 
 
 " Oh, Agnes," cried her grandmama 
 presently, " I am quite ashamed of you ! 
 See, your cousin has had the same letters 
 to write, and what a difference there is 
 between them ! But no wonder, for you 
 are not copying mine. Perhaps, Mary, 
 you can help her a little, and show her 
 how to make her capitals, which she 
 seems to have forgotten ?" 
 
 Mary very quietly did as she was told, 
 but Agnes was not at all pleased that a 
 child of her own age should be called 
 upon, as she thought, to teach her. It 
 was not, therefore, till after some little 
 time that she made any attempt to do as 
 she had been shown, and then only from 
 the fear of displeasing her grandmama. 
 
14 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 At length, however, the copy was finished, 
 and much better written. 
 
 The next day Mary left. The morning 
 after her departure was Sunday, and 
 Agnes and Eliza used on that day to read 
 to Mrs. Shaen the Collect, Epistle, and 
 Gospel, which they would hear at church, 
 that she might explain whatever was dif- 
 ficult first. This was the third Sunday 
 after Trinity, and consequently the Epis- 
 tle was 1 Pet., v. 5. 
 
 " Some of those are very nice verses 
 for you, children," said their grandmama, 
 when they had finished reading. 
 
 Agnes. Yes, grandmama, and we ought 
 to know them, because a long while ago 
 you taught us the 5th verse, which says : 
 " All of you be subject one to another, 
 and be clothed with humility ; for God 
 resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to 
 the humble." 
 
 Mrs. S. How happy it would be for 
 you, could you always remember this ! 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 15 
 
 And yet, though it seems to you now an 
 easy text, you find it difficult to recollect 
 at the right time. Do you not believe, 
 Agnes, that if you had thought of it the 
 other day, when Mary was with us, you 
 would have acted differently. 
 
 Agnes. About my writing, grandmama, 
 do you mean ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, Agnes ; you behaved in 
 that naughty way then, because you were 
 too proud to let your cousin teach you a 
 thing which you yet knew she could do 
 better than yourself. Such pride may 
 seem a very little fault to you, my Agnes ; 
 but see what God says of it : " He resist- 
 eth the proud." And in another place we 
 read : " Every one that is proud in heart 
 is abomination to the Lord." I do not 
 speak to you now only, Agnes ; I want to 
 speak to you both, because I see in you 
 both, from time to time, the breaking out 
 of that pride which is, indeed, natural to 
 us all, but which is so opposite a temper 
 
16 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 to that which God loves. You remember 
 how our Blessed Lord told His disciples 
 to become like little children ; and do you 
 not think that, when He told them so, He 
 meant that children themselves should be 
 meek and humble ? 
 
 " But," continued Mrs. Shaen, for she 
 saw Agnes looking very sorrowful, "we 
 have not yet read to the end of our verse. 
 That God who resisteth the proud, ' giveth 
 grace to the humble.' There is a pleas- 
 ant thought for you, children ; if you ask 
 God, His grace shall make }^ou humble ; 
 and when He has made you so, He will 
 still give you greater grace, and you shall 
 become more and more like Him who 
 was meek and lowly in heart." 
 
 Then Mrs. Shaen told her little grand- 
 children to find out different texts which 
 speak of the evil of pride, and bring them 
 to her on the following Sunday ; and 
 when they did so, she explained to them 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 17 
 
 the meaning of such as they had not be- 
 fore understood. 
 
 In this way did their grandmama, from 
 time to time, talk to Agnes and Eliza ; she 
 loved to speak of the Holy Child Jesus, 
 and she prayed that they might follow the 
 example of His great humility ; some- 
 times she would say that pride was one 
 of the chief of those works of the devil 
 which it had been promised for them at 
 their baptism that they should renounce ; 
 at others, she would tell them of the peace 
 and joy which only humble children 
 know. And, by the blessing of God, her 
 words were not in vain ; little Agnes list- 
 ened very attentively, and thought much 
 of what she heard ; so that Mrs. Shaen 
 had the pleasure of seeing her become, 
 by degrees, more meek and gentle. She 
 had never, indeed, been a particularly 
 naughty child ; still there began to be a 
 change in her manner and conduct, which 
 those about her could not but notice. 
 3 
 
18 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 With Eliza it was different. Being very 
 fond of her grandmama, she perhaps paid 
 more heed to her words than to those of any 
 one else ; but she never thought of doing 
 according to what she was taught ; so she 
 went on, as far as she could, in her own 
 way, from day to day. Even the kind 
 instructions by which Agnes was improv- 
 ing, did Eliza harm ; for thus it is with 
 children, as with grown people, that if 
 they are not made better by the good 
 things they hear, they become worse ; 
 and each time that they are told what is 
 right, they grow more careless about do- 
 ing it. 
 
 Now, however, to speak of something 
 more pleasant, I will tell you two stories 
 about Agnes, which will show you the 
 way in which she tried to remember her 
 grandmama' s words. The first shall be 
 an account of what happened a few 
 months after Mary's visit, of which you 
 have heard. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 19 
 
 Agnes and Eliza were one day sitting 
 with Mrs. Shaen, doing their lessons as 
 usual. 
 
 "Oh, grandmama, what a long sum !" 
 exclaimed both the children, as they saw 
 her put down figure after figure upon the 
 slate. 
 
 Mrs. S. It is so long a sum that I do 
 not feel at all sure whether you will be 
 able to do it ; but I should like you both 
 to try. 
 
 The little girls, therefore, set to work 
 very diligently, and were quiet for some 
 time. 
 
 " I have done it, grandmama," at last 
 cried Eliza. 
 
 Mrs. S. And it is quite right. You 
 have done it very well. 
 
 Agnes. I have done it now, too, grand- 
 mama. 
 
 Eliza. Oh, Agnes, that cannot be right, 
 for it is not like mine ! 
 
 Mrs. S. You have made one or two 
 
20 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 mistakes, my love, but I am not surprised 
 at that. However, if you like to look 
 over your sum for a few minutes, and try 
 to find them out, you can do so. 
 
 Agnes tried, but in vain. Presently 
 her sister said : " I can help you, Agnes, 
 if you like." 
 
 Agnes. No, thank you, Eliza ; grand- 
 mama is going to show me. 
 
 Just then the servant came into the 
 room, bringing word that some one was 
 waiting to speak to Mrs. Shaen. 
 
 " My dear Agnes," her grandmama 
 then said to her, " you must not spend 
 any more time now over your sum, and I 
 cannot stay to help you ; so, either rub it 
 out, or let Eliza show you." 
 
 Agnes was a good deal vexed at not 
 being able to succeed with her task, and 
 vexed again that her grandmama could 
 not assist her in it. At first she wished 
 to rub the figures out altogether ; but a 
 better thought came into her mind, and, 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 21 
 
 going round to her sister, she asked : 
 " Eliza dear, will you help me ?" 
 
 A very little aid from Eliza was suffi- 
 cient to show Agnes her mistakes, and 
 she finished the sum by herself. 
 
 " There, my love," said her grandma- 
 ma, on entering the room, and looking at 
 her slate, " I am as much pleased as if 
 you had done this quite alone." 
 
 The other story I have to relate about 
 Agnes is of something which took place a 
 year and a half afterwards, during Mrs. 
 Shaen's illness. At this time the children 
 were chiefly left with Aylton, a faithful 
 servant of their grandmama's, of whom 
 they were very fond. But it happened 
 that Aylton was obliged to go over to her 
 father for a week, and then a much 
 younger person, of the name of Hill, took 
 care of Agnes and Eliza. 
 
 One day, the little girls were playing 
 together in the parlour with their balls, 
 when Hill came in. 
 
22 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 "Miss Agnes, Miss Eliza," she said, 
 " will you be so good as to go and play 
 up-stairs in the nursery ? I am afraid lest 
 your balls should do some mischief 
 here." 
 
 Eliza. We always played down-stairs 
 when Aylton was with us ; and there is 
 so little room in the nursery, we cannot 
 go there. 
 
 Hill. Yes, Miss, you might do so when 
 your grandmama or Aylton were sitting 
 with you, but that is quite different from 
 playing alone. 
 
 Eliza. " Oh, we shall not hurt any- 
 thing here ; or if we do, now that you 
 have told us, it will not be your fault. I 
 really cannot go," she then whispered to 
 her sister, "just because Hill says it. If 
 grandmama had told her, then I would 
 dg so." 
 
 Agnes. " Oh ! but, Eliza, I think we 
 ought to go. I think grandmama would 
 call it proud, not to do what Hill says, 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 23 
 
 because she is a servant. I am coming, 
 Hill," she continued, speaking louder. 
 
 Eliza at first felt inclined to stay behind 
 by herself; but, unwilling to lose her 
 game of play, she soon followed her 
 sister. 
 
 Thus did Agnes go on, till the effort, 
 which had at first been very difficult, 
 grew by degrees easier to her ; and, be- 
 fore she was herself aware of it, it had 
 almost become a habit with her to think 
 and speak humbly ; so that it was sur- 
 prising how much the little girl was im- 
 proved when she left her grandmama's. 
 
 And, now that I have brought down 
 my story to the time at which it first be- 
 gan, it will he better for the future to pro- 
 ceed more regularly ; for this purpose let 
 us return to little Agnes and Eliza, whom 
 we left sleeping quietly together the first 
 night, after their meeting at their aunt's. 
 What they did on the following morning, 
 shall be related in my next chapter. 
 
24 AGNES AND ELIZA 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Soon after breakfast the next day, Mrs. 
 Denham left her little nieces to play to- 
 gether for a short time. Eliza had much 
 that was new to show her sister ; and 
 Agnes, on her side, had a good deal to tell 
 about her grandmama. When all this 
 was over, and they were both getting a 
 little tired, Agnes suddenly exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, Eliza, how glad I am that we are 
 together again, and in such a pretty place, 
 too ! I almost felt last night as though I 
 should not be happy here ; but perhaps it 
 was only because I was tired, and had 
 just left grandmama." 
 
 Eliza. Do not be too sure of being 
 happy, Agnes. Aunt Denham is not at 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 25 
 
 all like grandmama ; she does things so 
 very oddly. And then this house, how 
 can }^ou call it pretty, Agnes ? Our room, 
 too, is so small, and so dull. And we 
 have only the parlour for playing, and do- 
 m& our lessons in. 
 
 Agnes. Oh, but there is the garden,' 
 Eliza. 
 
 Eliza. Yes, there is that certainly ; but 
 I never saw so ugly a one before. Agnes, 
 I don't like being here at all. 
 
 Agnes. Do riot say so, Eliza. To be 
 sure, I don't know aunt yet, but she 
 seemed very kind last night ; and this 
 morning, you see, she has let us play to- 
 gether almost the first thing. 
 
 Eliza. You will say differently by and 
 by. You do not know aunt's way of 
 speaking yet ; when I am doing my les- 
 sons, she teaches me just as if I Were a 
 baby, and had not learnt anything. 
 
 Agnes. But we are children, Eliza, and 
 we cannot know half so much as aunt. 
 4 
 
26 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 When we do, I dare say she will leave off 
 speaking so. But somehow I think we 
 ought to be the more obliged to her for 
 teaching us, since she believes we know 
 so little. 
 
 Eliza. Well, Agnes, I cannot under- 
 stand you. You used to appear so fond 
 of grandmama always, and to like to be 
 with her ; and now you have come here, 
 you do not seem to mind it. I did not 
 imagine you were so forgetful. 
 
 Agnes. I am not forgetting, Eliza ; I 
 am thinking of what grandmama said to 
 me before I came away. 
 
 Eliza. What was that, Agnes ? 
 
 Agnes. " T had been talking about go- 
 ing, and saying that I was sure I should 
 never be so happy as with her; and she 
 answered, (I do not remember just her 
 words, but they were something like 
 these,) that there was one sure way to be 
 always contented, and that was, to be 
 humble ; because, if we were so, we 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 27 
 
 should feel, as we looked at all the pleas- 
 ant things around us, that each one was 
 more than we deserved ; (and here, Eli- 
 za," continued Agnes, "we have so 
 many ;) and then grand mam a repeated 
 that verse out of the Psalms, which I had 
 learnt before, ' The meek shall inherit the 
 earth ;' and she said that something like 
 this was the meaning of it." 
 
 Just as Agnes had finished speaking, 
 Mrs. Denham entered the room. 
 
 " Come, Eliza," she said, " it is time 
 for you to leave off play now. And do 
 you, Agnes, fetch your books, and come 
 and sit down by your sister." 
 
 Agnes was a little startled by the quick 
 way in which her aunt spoke ; however 
 she did as she was bid, and in a few mo- 
 ments was seated by that lady. The 
 little girls' first lesson that morning hap- 
 pened to be in geography, of which they 
 were both fond. Mrs. Denham was not 
 used to children, and her manner, which 
 
28 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 was rather rough, was very different in- 
 deed from that of Mrs. Shaen ; however, 
 the gentle and docile behaviour of Agnes 
 quite won her regard, and, after the les- 
 sons were over, Mrs. Denham proposed 
 that her nieces should take a walk with 
 her, and that Agnes should see the village. 
 Agnes and Eliza both liked their walk ; 
 and their empkwments in the afternoon 
 seemed, even to the latter, pleasant and 
 easy. Towards evening their aunt again 
 allowed them to play till about an hour 
 before they went to bed, when she called 
 them to sit and work by her. 
 
 Eliza went up stairs that night, wonder- 
 ing what had made the day pass so much 
 more happily than usually was the case ; 
 and whether it was all the consequence 
 of Agnes being with her; and she hoped 
 that all the time with her aunt would be 
 as pleasant in future. 
 
 In this hope, however, she was disap- 
 pointed, for her troubles soon returned 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 29 
 
 again. But unfortunately, when she felt 
 sad, and when her aunt was vexed with 
 her, she seldom thought that the fault was 
 her own ; or, if she did think so, she 
 would not acknowledge it, but laid all the 
 blame upon others. 
 
 Now I will tell you what it was that 
 made this little girl unhappy ; and if you, 
 my readers, ever feel so from a like cause, 
 I trust that reading about her may lead 
 you to see where you have been wrong, 
 and that you may thus be helped to alter 
 your ways. 
 
 Eliza's real enemy was her pride. 
 That pride, to which she had, from time 
 to time, given way whilst at her grand- 
 mama's, began to show itself more openly. 
 Now the child was no longer kept, as she 
 had been at Westcote, by the presence of 
 her loved grandmama, from letting the 
 violence of her sinful temper break out ; 
 and as it had not been her habit to submit 
 to those placed over her, because it was 
 
30 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 her duty to do so, she allowed herself, 
 since she felt no particular affection for 
 Mrs. Denham, constantly to struggle 
 against that lady's will, and disobey her 
 commands ; of course, such conduct was 
 nGt likely to gain her aunt's favor ; where- 
 as, had Eliza, like her sister, shown her- 
 self gentle and humble, she would have 
 found, like her, that Mrs. Denham really 
 loved her, and was kind to her. 
 
 Indeed it was surprising how many 
 pleasures little Agnes enjoyed at Barrow. 
 
 Mrs. Denham was very fond of flowers, 
 and she had some early ones in glasses ; 
 these the child used to nurse and take 
 care of for her. She had also a pet dog, 
 of the name of Dash, which was at first 
 no favourite with either of the little girls ; 
 but since Agnes was kind to it, and did 
 not pull it about, as her sister would do 
 when she was in a passion, it learnt to 
 like her, and follow her round the garden. 
 There were, moreover, two birds, a gold- 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 31 
 
 finch and a canary, kept by Mrs. Den- 
 ham ; and, when her nieces had been 
 very good, she would allow them to feed 
 the little creatures ; this was a treat 
 which could seldom be permitted to Eliza, 
 but it often was to Agnes, so that the 
 birds began to know her ; and once, when 
 the goldfinch had been let out of its cage 
 for a few minutes, Agnes was delighted 
 to see it perch upon her hand. And 
 sometimes Mrs. Denham went down to 
 the village school, and gave reward books 
 to the diligent children ; then she would 
 take Agnes there, which was a great treat 
 to her. 
 
 There was, however, one thing which 
 often made Agnes sorrowful ; for she 
 loved her sister, and could not bear to see 
 her either doing what was wrong, or suf- 
 fering for having done so. Still, when 
 she tried to persuade her to behave dif- 
 ferently, the answer usually was : " Oh, 
 Agnes, it is all because I am here, and 
 
32 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 not with grandmama. I shall never do 
 differently in this place." Eliza, accord- 
 ingly, continued to give her aunt so much 
 trouble that she became perplexed what 
 to do with her. At last she resolved to 
 pay a visit to Westcote, and consult Mrs. 
 Shaen on the subject ; and, as she knew 
 it would give her little nieces great pleas- 
 ure to see their grand.mama, she deter- 
 mined to take them with her. One morn- 
 ing, therefore, at breakfast, she said to 
 them : " My dears, I am thinking of go- 
 ing over to Westcote this day week, and 
 I should like to take you both there. I 
 have requested your grandmama to send 
 over the chaise the evening before ; only 
 I can take none but very good children, 
 so I give you a week's notice." 
 
 The time passed on, and Eliza was re- 
 markably diligent and attentive through 
 the whole of it. At length the wished- 
 for morning arrived, on which they were 
 to set off for Westcote. Eliza and Agnes 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 33 
 
 were very sorry, when they woke, to see 
 that it was raining ; and still more so, 
 when told by their aunt, that, in conse- 
 quence of the weather, only one of them 
 could accompany her ; for the front part 
 of the chaise had no cover to protect 
 them from the damp air. 
 
 " Oh ! dear aunt," cried the children, 
 together, " I am sure there would be 
 plenty of room for us both inside. Grand- 
 mama has often taken us so with her." 
 
 " Yes," observed their aunt, "but then 
 it was only for a short distance. This 
 will be a long drive." 
 
 " I do not take much room, aunt," cried 
 Agnes ; " I can sit anywhere, indeed 1 
 can." 
 
 " So can I," said Eliza, who was wil- 
 ling for once to make herself of little con- 
 sequence ; " only do let us go !" 
 
 " My dears," replied Mrs. Denham, •'! 
 have some parcels to carry over with me 
 to Westcote, so that the thing is impos- 
 5 
 
34 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 sible. I am very sorry for the rain, but I 
 cannot help it ; one of you must therefore 
 remain behind." 
 
 " Do you not think, aunt," exclaimed 
 Agnes, after a pause, " that, if you were 
 to wait only a very little while, it might 
 clear up ?" 
 
 " I cannot wait, Agnes," answered her 
 aunt ; " even if we set off directly, we 
 shall not be back till quite late. Come, I 
 must decide who is to go. Eliza, you 
 have been a very good child this week ; 
 and it is so seldom that I can have the 
 pleasure of saying this, that I will take 
 you with me this time. You, Agnes, 
 must stay at home." 
 
 Mrs. Denham and Eliza then left the 
 room. Poor Agnes felt very sorrowful, 
 and stood for a moment against the table 
 with her head resting on her hand : just 
 then it came into her mind, that once be- 
 Fore, when she had met with some disap- 
 pointment at Westcote, Mrs. Shaen, on 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 35 
 
 entering the parlor, had found her in the 
 same position, and, after inquiring what 
 was the matter, had repeated the verse : 
 '' Submit yourselves, therefore, to God ; 
 and if to God," she had said to her, " to 
 those also whom He places over us, our 
 parents or teachers." 
 
 No sooner had Agnes recollected this, 
 than she endeavoured at once to put away 
 her discontented feelings from her ; and 
 it was well that she did so. It is well for 
 us all, when good thoughts come into our 
 minds, that we do immediately what they 
 would lead us to do ; because it is God 
 who by them is speaking to us, as from 
 Him only all good counsels proceed ; and 
 if we listen to this His voice, we may 
 hope that He will continue to guide us in 
 His way ; whereas, if we put those 
 thoughts from us, it may be that He will 
 never speak to us again. 
 
 To return to Agnes. She presently 
 remembered, that there would be just 
 
36 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 time for her, before her aunt and sister 
 left, to write a little note to her grand- 
 mama, which they might take to West- 
 cote, and she hastened to do so. Mrs. 
 Denham was really sorry not to have 
 Agnes with her, and concerned also for 
 the child's disappointment. Just as she 
 was stepping into the chaise, she turned 
 suddenly back, and taking a large key 
 from her pocket, gave it to Agnes, saying : 
 
 " It will be several hours, my love, be- 
 fore we return ; but, if you should be in 
 want of any amusement, go to Ellis, and 
 ask her to unlock the closet which this 
 fastens ; and }'ou may then bring out of it 
 whatever you think will please } T ou." 
 
 Agnes thanked her aunt, and soon 
 found abundance of entertainment in the 
 contents of the closet. As she occupied 
 herself in putting together a map of Eng- 
 land, which she had taken from thence, 
 she could not help thinking how kind it 
 was of Mrs. Denham to recollect what 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 37 
 
 would gratify her, just before she went 
 away ; and what a happy child she was 
 to have those who would be so good to 
 her, even when she was at a distance 
 from her grand mama. 
 
 Meantime Eliza and her aunt had ar- 
 rived at Westcote. Mrs. Shaen wished 
 that Agnes could have been with them, 
 but she had scarcely expected to see 
 them all on such a wet morning ; she 
 read the little girl's letter, however, with 
 great pleasure. In the afternoon, whilst 
 Eliza was gone out into the garden to look 
 again at the beds which had formerly 
 been her own and her sister's, and which 
 were still kept for them, (for it had clear- 
 ed up sufficiently for this purpose,) her 
 grandmama and Mrs. Denham talked to- 
 gether for some time. 
 
 At length it was settled between them, 
 that if all should be well, at the end of 
 the Midsummer holidays, (it was now the 
 beginning of June) the two little girls 
 
38 AGNES AND ELIZA; 
 
 should be sent to school at Stoke, a town 
 about thirty miles from Westcote. 
 
 " I think this will decidedly be the 
 best plan for them," said "Mrs. Shaen to 
 their aunt, " since you find it impossible 
 to keep Eliza with you, and I do not like 
 separating the two sisters. I have heard 
 much of Mrs. Wakefield," (that was the 
 name of the lady who kept the school,) 
 " and I will write to her about it this 
 evening." 
 
 And now, that I may not make this 
 part of my story too long, I will only, 
 before we follow Agnes and Eliza to 
 school, stay to tell you of their parting 
 with their grandmama ; for Mrs. Denham 
 allowed them both to spend a few days at 
 Westcote before they went to Stoke ; and 
 here I will relate to you what Mrs. Shaen 
 said to them the last evening they were 
 with her. 
 
 They had just finished their usual Bible 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 39 
 
 reading with their grandmama, when she 
 spoke to them thus : 
 
 " My dear children, I do not know how 
 long it may be before I am able thus to 
 hear you again ; but in the meantime I 
 shall know, and you may know it, too, 
 that when neither I nor your aunt are 
 near you to talk to and direct you, there 
 is One always with 3^ou, and always able 
 to guide you. Yet, remember, this is 
 God's promise," and she looked espe- 
 cially at Eliza, " ' The meek will He guide 
 in judgment, and the meek will He teach 
 His way.' There are many blessed pro- 
 mises in Holy Scripture, but none are 
 made to those who are proud, while they 
 continue so. And yet we cannot make 
 ourselves humble ; this none but God can 
 make us ; and we never shall be truly so, 
 till He, by leading us to feel our sins, has 
 shown us what cause we have to repent 
 of them. We must first be humbled be- 
 fore God, else, whatever we may seem in 
 
40 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 man's sight, there will be no true meek- 
 ness in us. Ask of God, then, my chil- 
 dren, that He will give you a contrite 
 spirit ; — give it you, more and more, every 
 day. And hear how sweetly He who was 
 meek and lowly in heart, invites you to 
 . Him self, and bids you follow His exam- 
 ple. ' Come unto me, all ye that labour, 
 and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
 rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn 
 of me.' I can wish for you, my dear 
 children, no higher happiness, wherever 
 you are, than this : — that you may so rest 
 in your Saviour here, that you may enjoy 
 His perfect rest hereafter in heaven." 
 
 Then Mrs. Shaen bid Agnes and Eliza 
 good night ; and early the next morning 
 they set off to return to their aunt, who 
 was to take them with her to school on 
 the following day. 
 
OR 5 HUMILITY. 41 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 As Agnes spent several years at school, 
 you, my young readers, may perhaps like 
 to know a little about the place to which 
 she and her sister were now going. Stoke 
 (for so we shall call it) was a small coun- 
 try town ; it had not the beauty of West- 
 cote, where the windows of the neatly- 
 thatched cottages used to peep out amidst 
 clusters of roses and honeysuckle, nor the' 
 wide views over hill and dale, which the 
 children loved to look down upon from 
 the heights of Barrow ; still, as I before- 
 said, it was a town ; and that was a nov- 
 elty to Agnes and Eliza. Though the 
 shops in its principal street were neither 
 many nor large, yet the sight of them, in 
 6 
 
42 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 passing, much amused the little girls. 
 The school-house, however, stood away 
 from these, up a lane, called Stoke-Lane, 
 which led besides to the church and rec- 
 tory, which were about three-quarters of 
 a mile from Mrs. Wakefield's. In front 
 of the house was a large lawn, with beds 
 of fine flowers, very carefully kept ; and 
 the windows at the back looked on another 
 lawn, though not nearly so pretty a one as 
 the former. Its shape was square, and it 
 had only a few flower-beds. This was 
 the children's play-ground. A gravel- 
 walk led round it, on the other side of 
 which were small borders, that served for 
 the gardens of the little girls ; and some 
 were so neat and well-cultivated, as to do 
 great credit to the industry of their own- 
 ers. Beyond this back-garden there was 
 a view of the parish-church ; for the lane 
 of which I have spoken wound so com- 
 pletely round, that this building and the 
 rectory were almost exactly opposite Mrs. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 43 
 
 Wakefield's house. In the summer time 
 there was a pleasant walk to them through 
 the fields, and over a bridge across the 
 stream which ran below the church-yard ; 
 but in winter the only way was the longer 
 one, up Stoke-Lane. 
 
 The number of Mrs. Wakefield's pupils 
 was five-and-twenty, Of these, four or 
 five were quite elder girls, soon about to 
 leave school altogether ; the rest were 
 separated into two divisions, the greater 
 part were between the ages of ten and 
 fourteen, but there were seven younger 
 and less forward children, called the little 
 ones, and these two classes did not gene- 
 rally mingle much one with another. 
 
 Agnes and Eliza were not accustomed 
 to be with little girls of their own age, 
 and the sight of so many new faces was 
 at first rather strange to them ; but, as 
 they were not naturally shy, the thought 
 of a number of companions pleased them, 
 and eagerly did they watch the proceed- 
 
44 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 ings around them the first evening they 
 were at Stoke. They were somewhat 
 disappointed, however, on the following 
 morning, to find themselves, after a little 
 examination by Miss Wakefield, placed 
 b}^ her in the lowest class ; for their age 
 had led them to expect a higher position. 
 They were the more sorry for this, be- 
 cause they had already formed a high 
 idea of the kindness and ability of the 
 eldest Miss Wakefield ; and the little 
 ones, with whom they were now ranked, 
 were not taught by her, but by her sister, 
 Miss Charlotte. Mrs. Wakefield herself, 
 though a very active person, found enough 
 to occupy her time in the management of 
 the domestic concerns of the house ; she 
 consequently bore no part in the instruc- 
 tion of the children, and seldom took 
 much notice of them, unless they were 
 ill. 
 
 Her first disappointment almost de- 
 stroyed the hopes of happiness at school 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 45 
 
 which Eliza had conceived ; and she soon 
 found an opportunity of uttering her 
 complaints to her sister in this way : 
 
 Eliza. Is it not vexing, Agnes, that we 
 are put down just at the bottom of the 
 school, and among such children, too ? 
 Why, do you know, there is one really 
 not eight years old. 
 
 Agnes. I am very sorry for it, Eliza ; 
 and the more, because there are one or 
 two little girls of just our age in the next 
 class, whom I was wishing so much to 
 know ; and now I shall see scarcely any- 
 thing of them, I am afraid. 
 
 Eliza. Well, I am sure I shall not do 
 much amongst such babies ; and it is not 
 worth while to try ; I should be sure to 
 get before them, if I did, and yet I should 
 not be moved, I dare say. 
 
 Agnes. Oh, but Eliza, we should not 
 talk so. Miss Wakefield mast know best 
 where we ought to be ; and very likely 
 there are several nice children amongst 
 
46 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 these whom you seem to despise ; some, 
 perhaps, from whom we may be glad to 
 learn. At all events we can try to be- 
 have kindly to them. 
 
 But Eliza appeared determined to keep 
 her naughty resolution. She took no 
 pains with her lessons, and the younger 
 Miss Wakefield, in consequence, scarcely 
 noticed her, for that lady was apt to over- 
 look children who were not bright or 
 attentive ; and, imagining the little pro- 
 gress Eliza made in her pursuits to be oc- 
 casioned by a natural want of ability, she 
 left the little girl very much to follow her 
 own way. So, although she was by no 
 means a favorite in the school, she avoided 
 for some time any particular trouble. 
 
 The chief events of the half year with 
 which we are concerned at present, were 
 two misfortunes which happened to Ag- 
 nes ; perhaps, however, I should hardly 
 call them misfortunes, since they were 
 the consequence of her own faults. The 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 47 
 
 first took place not long after her arrival 
 at Miss Wakefield's, in the manner which 
 I am about to relate. 
 
 One fine summer's afternoon, it being a 
 half-holiday, all the children, younger and 
 older, had joined together in a game of 
 play. Such a circumstance but rarely 
 occurred, and perhaps on that account the 
 little girls enjoyed it the more on the 
 present occasion. The game which they 
 chose was a very exciting one ; the school 
 divided itself into two parties, to each of 
 which was allotted half of the play- 
 ground. They dignified themselves by 
 the names of two different nations, and 
 the war between them was carried on by 
 the endeavour on each side to make pris- 
 oners of such as chose to expose them- 
 selves on the enemy's ground ; nor was 
 it ended till a decisive victory had been 
 gained by whichever party was fortunate 
 enough thus to capture and confine the 
 entire number of its foes. 
 
48 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 Among the little girls foremost in enter- 
 ing into the amusement, was Emily Gar- 
 diner, a child a } r ear and a half older 
 than Agnes. She was very lively and 
 entertaining, and generally thought ami- 
 able, — quick at her lessons, yet fond of 
 play ; moreover, her powers as a runner 
 were in high repute through the school, 
 so that now each party was anxious to 
 secure her for itself. The matter, how- 
 ever, was soon settled, and then Emily 
 and Agnes found themselves placed on 
 opposite sides. 
 
 After many an escape and many a cap- 
 ture, these two little girls were left to 
 maintain the honour of their respective 
 nations alone, the companions of both 
 being alike prisoners. Emily, not at 
 once perceiving this, ventured rather in- 
 cautiously into the territory of Agnes ; 
 the latter instantly seized the advantage, 
 and succeeded in claiming her as a pris- 
 oner, and thus putting an end to the war. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 49 
 
 There was a general shout of congratula- 
 tion from her young friends who witness- 
 ed her victory. 
 
 "Oh, Agnes!" cried Emily, "let me 
 go. I am not your prisoner. You have 
 been running over that flower-bed, and 
 that is not fair." 
 
 * "Let her go! let her go!" exclaimed 
 several voices at once. " How could you 
 do such a thing, you unfair child, and 
 then say you have conquered ?" 
 
 " But I did not think that it was un- 
 fair," replied Agnes. "You know that 
 this is the first time I have played. And, 
 besides, I should have caught Emily just 
 the same without running over any bed. 
 Look !" (and she showed her compan- 
 ions,) " it could not make the least differ- 
 ence. " 
 
 Several voices were here raised in be- 
 half of Agnes, and. the matter was finally 
 brought before one of the elder girls, who 
 had been chosen as umpire to settle dis- 
 7 
 
50 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 putes. She pronounced that, owing to 
 Agnes' mistake, the victory was to be 
 considered undecided ; but added, that 
 she fully believed the child to be guilty 
 only of a mistake, and of one, moreover, 
 which had given her no advantage what- 
 ever in her race with her companion. 
 
 This opinion by no means satisfied 
 Emily ; and, as she walked with Agnes 
 from the play -ground, she continued to 
 reproach her, in a very angry tone, for 
 what she called her unfairness and de- 
 ception. 
 
 * It will be a long time, Agnes, I hope," 
 she said, " before the great girls allow 
 you to play with them again." 
 
 " Very well," said Agnes, a good deal 
 provoked ; " at all events I will not play 
 with you in a hurry, Emily." 
 
 What the reply was Agnes did not stay 
 to hear, for she ran away in a violent pas- 
 sion. During the remainder of the eve- 
 ning, some of her young companions were 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 51 
 
 praising her for the part she had taken 
 in the game. The history of it was re- 
 lated to Miss Wakefield, who commended 
 the child for her agility and activity. 
 
 But Agnes was not happy. She felt 
 that she had done wrong, and that Emily 
 had done so, too, did not make her own 
 fault the less. These were her feelings 
 as she went up-stairs for the night ; and 
 then the thought came into her mind, how 
 could she seek pardon in her prayer that 
 evening, if she were too proud to ask for- 
 giveness of the person she had offended ? 
 She resolved, therefore, to go and find 
 Emily, who slept alone in the room next 
 her own. She knocked at the door which 
 separated the two. 
 
 " Emily, may I speak to you V 
 
 " Yes, come in," was the answer. 
 
 " Emily," whispered Agnes, " I am 
 come to beg your pardon for what I said 
 to you to-day in the garden. Will you 
 forgive me ?" 
 
52 AGNES AND ELIZA; 
 
 Now had the little girl been asked this 
 question at another time, or by any one 
 else, she would probably at once have 
 forgotten her anger, and only blamed her- 
 self for the quarrel. But her pride had 
 been wounded by her defeat that day in 
 the game ; and, besides, she was really 
 glad that by the improper way in which 
 Agnes had then spoken, she had given 
 some ground for that dislike which Emily 
 had long allowed herself to feel towards 
 her, without knowing the reason of it. 
 So she only answered very coolly, " Oh ! 
 you are sorry now, Agnes, are you V 9 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Emily ; and you forgive 
 me, do you not ? 
 
 Emily. Oh, certainly ; but I shall take 
 care that you have no occasion to ask my 
 forgiveness in future. 
 
 Little Agnes crept back to her room, 
 and began crying ; she thought that 
 Emily was unkind, and, what was worse, 
 that this unkindness was the consequence 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 53 
 
 of her own fault. " No one was near 
 me," she said to herself, " to reprove me 
 to-day in the garden, and perhaps no one 
 knew what a passion I was in when I 
 spoke to Emily ; but I am being punished 
 now, by her coldness, and my own feel- 
 ings." 
 
 Perhaps here, my readers, you may 
 wonder that Agnes should think so much 
 about what appears to you so slight a 
 thing. But thus it is that, whether young 
 or old, those who are best feel most when 
 they have done wrong ; for their Heavenly 
 Father would make use of that sorrow to 
 keep them from again falling into sin ; 
 and far more unhappy are they who can 
 offend Him, and not grieve. 
 
 Agnes ceased crying as she knelt to re- 
 peat her evening prayer ; and then she 
 especially sought pardon for the sinful 
 temper to which she had that day yielded, 
 for His sake, " who, when He was re- 
 viled, reviled not again ;" and, soon after 
 
54 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 she had laid herself down, she fell 
 asleep. 
 
 Day after day passed on after this, at 
 Mrs. Wakefield's, much the same as for- 
 mer ones had done ; but they did not feel 
 the same to little Agnes, for it seemed to 
 her now as though she had an enemy in 
 the school; and one, too, whom she had 
 made so in part herself. Emily always 
 avoided speaking to her, and took pleas- 
 ure in saying unkind things about her, 
 and laughing at her ; and this vexed her 
 much. She had learned, however, by 
 what had lately happened, not to suffer 
 herself again to be easily provoked ; and 
 so she went on quietly, hoping that be- 
 fore long something or other would occur 
 which might reconcile Emily to her. She 
 had first, however, another lesson to learn, 
 and one which cost her much. 
 
 One of the pleasantest occupations of 
 Agnes' s young companions was garden- 
 ing. I have already told you how pretty 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 55 
 
 their little flower-beds were, and to make 
 them so, required some labour, but that 
 labour was an enjoyment. Agnes' s gar- 
 den especially was her delight. Often- 
 times did the sight of her roses drive from 
 her remembrance the difficulties of the 
 morning's lesson ; and many a favourite 
 poem became dearer to her as she repeat- 
 ed it whilst working among them. A 
 succession of wet days in the beginning 
 of September confined the children to the 
 house ; and, when the weather began a 
 little to clear, it was still too damp to al- 
 low of their doing more than walking in 
 the driest part of the grounds. Mrs. 
 Wakefield, therefore, expressly forbade 
 them to employ themselves again in their 
 gardens without her permission. The 
 following Sunday the sun rose brightly 
 and warmly ; the moist roads and fields 
 soon felt the glad effect of his beams ; so 
 that the next morning, when the little 
 girls went out to play at their usual hour, 
 
■56 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 the garden seemed quite a different place ; 
 the ground dry, and almost hard. Agnes 
 happened to be the first in the play- 
 ground that day ; she was delighted at 
 the change, and her instant thought was 
 of her garden. In her eagerness she for- 
 got that not the fine weather alone, but 
 Mrs. Wakefield's permission was neces- 
 sary before she might work in it again. 
 So, arming herself with a hoe, to root out 
 the weeds, which had sprung up abun- 
 dantly during the late rain, she was soon 
 diligently occupied. 
 
 Presently some of her younger school- 
 fellows came running out : 
 
 " Look ! look ! there is Agnes garden- 
 ing," they cried ; " then Mrs. Wakefield 
 has given us leave ;" and forthwith two 
 or three hurried off for their tools. 
 
 " I shall go and ask her first," said one 
 child ; " but no, I won't take that trouble 
 either ; I dare say it is all right ;" and so 
 she followed the example of the rest. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 57 
 
 Now it happened that Agnes' s garden 
 lay quite away from those of her com- 
 panions ; for, on her first coming to school, 
 she had begged so hard that she might 
 be allowed a large piece of ground to 
 herself, that part of a bed, commonly 
 shared by the elder girls, had been allot- 
 ted to her ; and, consequently, now she 
 neither saw nor heard what her little 
 friends were doing. 
 
 Presently Eliza, pleased with an occa- 
 sion on which to make herself of import- 
 ance, hastened to one and another to give 
 them notice that they must instantly leave 
 off their employment, or fall under Mrs. 
 Wakefield's displeasure. But this un- 
 welcome advice was received rather cold- 
 ly : " Go and ask Agnes," was the reply ; 
 " we shall do as she does." 
 
 " Agnes ! Agnes !" cried Eliza, quite 
 
 out of breath with running ; " what is it 
 
 you are about ? Don't you remember 
 
 how expressly Mrs. Wakefield forbade 
 
 8 
 
58 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 our gardening till she gave us leave ; and 
 when have you heard her do so V 
 
 " Oh, dear !" answered Agnes, " I quite 
 forgot ; but what shall I do ?" 
 
 " Do," replied her sister, " why, stop, 
 to be sure ; and I must go and get the 
 other children to do the same, whom you 
 made to begin." 
 
 " I made !" exclaimed Agnes. 
 
 " Yes," answered Eliza, " certainly you 
 did ; for they saw you gardening, and set 
 to work themselves." 
 
 But Eliza's admonition was rather late ; 
 for Mrs. Wakefield had already seen 
 what the little girls were doing, and called 
 them to her. She was a person who did 
 not often interfere with, or give orders to 
 the children ; and therefore, when she did 
 so, she was the more particular in exact- 
 ing obedience. 
 
 Before Agnes could reach the house, 
 four, out of her six companions, who^had 
 been guilty on the present occasion, had 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 59 
 
 excused themselves to Mrs. Wakefield by 
 her example. 
 
 On her entrance, however, that lady in- 
 stantly turned to her : " And you, Agnes, 
 whom did you see, or what led you to 
 disobey me 7" 
 
 Agnes did not answer. 
 
 " Were you the first, Agnes, in the gar- 
 den this morning?" 
 
 " Yes, Ma'am." 
 
 " And what could make you think of 
 gardening there, when I had forbidden 
 it ?" 
 
 Agnes, being a little frightened, made 
 no reply till Mrs. Wakefield repeated her 
 question, and then she said : 
 
 " Indeed, Ma'am, I am very sorry ; but 
 just then I did not remember what you 
 had told us. When I went out, it looked 
 so fine and dry, I only thought of that." 
 
 Mrs. Wakefield. You are sure this 
 was the case, Agnes ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, quite sure, Ma'am. 
 
60 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 Mrs. Wakefield. " Ver}^ well ; I will 
 endeavour to make you remember better 
 in future. I am sorry, Agnes, that by 
 your forgetfulness you have involved your 
 companions also in difficulty. You should 
 have been more careful, children," she 
 said, turning towards them, "to ascertain 
 the truth. And now I forbid you all to 
 garden for the next fortnight ; and, as you 
 cannot be trusted with your tools, I will 
 keep them for you for that time. And 
 you, Agnes," continued Mrs. Wakefield, 
 " as this is the first time you have diso- 
 beyed me, so I hope it will be the last. 
 But I shall take } r our garden quite away 
 from you for this autumn ; next summer, 
 I trust, you will be a less forgetful child." 
 
 As the little girls, having brought their 
 garden implements to Mrs. Wakefield, 
 walked slowly into the school-room, some 
 of them began to speak very rudely to 
 Agnes, and to blame her as the sole cause 
 of their punishment. Indeed, their voices 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 61 
 
 were so loud, that, had Mrs. Wakefield 
 been near, they would probably have in- 
 curred her displeasure again. Emily 
 soon learnt the cause of their anger, and, 
 instead of trying to soothe it, strove to 
 excite it the more, and joined in their re- 
 proaches and complaints against Agnes. 
 Two little girls, however, took no part in 
 these proceedings ; one was Lucy Sey- 
 mour, rather younger than Agnes, of 
 whom she was very fond ; the other was 
 Jane Stevenson, a good child, who did 
 not like to blame another when she felt 
 that she had herself been wrong ; so she 
 remained silent. But Lucy could not 
 stand so quietly by. 
 
 "Oh, Emily!" she cried, "how can 
 you say that Agnes is always getting 
 people into trouble ? You do not know 
 how often she helps us, nor how much 
 she does for us." 
 
 " Indeed I do not," replied Emily ; 
 
62 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 " and I should like to hear who does be- 
 sides yourself, Lucy ?" 
 
 "Oh! I do," said little Jane ; " and so 
 do the others, too, only they will not tell 
 you so now." 
 
 Thus the children went on, some 
 blaming, and some excusing, and some 
 praising Agnes, who had, in the mean- 
 time, made her escape into the inner 
 school-room, which she found deserted. 
 Here a bright thought entered her mind, 
 and a little comforted her, when the door 
 was opened by Lucy. 
 
 "Agnes," she said, "I am come to 
 fetch you back again ; and you need not 
 mind, for the little girls will not speak 
 unkindly to you any more ; they would 
 not have said half so much to you just 
 now, had not Emily been there. I can- 
 not think why Emily behaves to yon so 
 differently from her way generally." 
 
 " Oh ! that is my fault, too, partly at 
 least," answered Agnes. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 63 
 
 " Well, never mind ; come, now, and 
 forget her, will you not V repeated her 
 friend. 
 
 " Not yet, Lucy," replied Agnes. " I 
 have thought of something, and I will do 
 it, too ; for I cannot bear that you should 
 all be punished on my account ; so I will 
 go to Mrs. Wakefield, and ask her to let 
 you have your gardens again ; and then 
 she may do what she pleases with me 
 instead." 
 
 " That will be quite useless, Agnes," 
 exclaimed Lucy. "lam sure, I hope, it 
 will." 
 
 But Agnes was deaf to the remon- 
 strance of her friend. She found a happy 
 opportunity of speaking to Mrs. Wake- 
 field, and made her request accordingly. 
 
 " No, Agnes," was the answer ; " it is 
 right that your companions should suffer 
 for their carelessness ; and, as you have 
 led them into a fault, you must bear this 
 as a part, perhaps to you the worst part, 
 
64 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 of your punishment. One thing, however, 
 I will tell you. I do not think your little 
 schoolfellows would have been so ready 
 to follow }^our example, had you not al- 
 ready gained the character of a good and 
 obedient child. I hope, therefore, that 
 the influence you have over them may 
 some day be used to better purpose." 
 
 These words of Mrs. Wakefield made 
 a deep impression on Agnes. Before this 
 time, she had always endeavoured to do 
 what was right, without considering who 
 might be near her ; but now another 
 thought came into her mind, — that the 
 children round her might sometimes copy 
 her actions, and do what she did ; and 
 this made her the more anxious to behave 
 always as she ought. 
 
 Often, after this, as she looked at her 
 now desolate garden, she was made hum- 
 ble by the remembrance of having once 
 been the means of leading her companions 
 into disobedience ; and she wished within 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 
 
 65 
 
 herself, that it were as easy to persuade 
 others to good, as it is to induce them to 
 evil. 
 
 But I have made this chapter already 
 sufficiently long ; the conclusion of the 
 half-year shall, therefore, form the subject 
 of another. 
 
66 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 By this time, perhaps, my readers are 
 wishing to know something more of Eliza, 
 of whom they have heard lately but little. 
 Indeed I have nothing very pleasant to 
 relate about her. She had become sadly 
 idle ; for not finding it so easy as she had 
 imagined, to get before the little girls 
 amongst whom she was placed, she gave 
 up the attempt, and contented herself with 
 thinking and saying to Agnes, that, when 
 there was a prospect of her being moved 
 into the next class, it would be seen how 
 much better she could do. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, the example of her 
 sister roused in her better thoughts ; for 
 Agnes was growing very diligent ; she 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 67 
 
 felt that she had much to learn, and she 
 was willing to learn from every one, and 
 very grateful to those who would show 
 her anything she did not know. Eliza 
 would often at first wish to be like her ; she 
 was naturally extremely fond of her sis- 
 ter ; and although now and then compari- 
 sons, rather mortifying to herself, were 
 drawn between them, (as a reproof given 
 to Eliza was usually followed by a com- 
 mendation bestowed upon Agnes,) yet 
 Agnes all the while behaved so kindly to 
 her, and seemed so ignorant of the differ- 
 ence which others saw in them, that Eliza 
 felt almost inclined to love her the more. 
 But her foolish pride turned from the 
 thought of being led by one not older 
 than herself ; and still less could she bear 
 the idea of her companions observing that 
 she was so. "No," said she to herself; 
 " I will follow my own way, not Agnes' s. 
 T dare say mine will be as good in the 
 end." 
 
68 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 One day, when Eliza was in somewhat 
 a better mood, the following conversation 
 took place between the sisters : 
 
 Eliza. Don't you think, Agnes, that 
 Miss Charlotte is kinder to you now than 
 she used to be ? 
 
 Agnes. I know more of her now, and 
 so, perhaps, that is the reason why I can 
 please her better. 
 
 Eliza. But I know more of her, too, 
 and yet I never can please her. 
 
 Agnes. Do not say never, Eliza; you 
 can when you really try, I think. Why, 
 she was pleased with you this morning. 
 
 Eliza. Yes, but I shall make her angry 
 again to-morrow. And so it is with 
 everybody else. Agnes, dear, I cannot 
 please people as you can. 
 
 Agnes. Oh ! Eliza, I am sure you 
 could if you would try. But sometimes 
 I fancy you do not wish it. 
 
 Eliza. Well, no more I do, for I see it is 
 impossible, and therefore I give up trying. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 69 
 
 Agnes. But, Eliza, even if you knew 
 that you could not succeed, still you 
 might try. 
 
 Eliza. Why, where would be the use 
 of that ? What do you mean, Agnes ? 
 
 Agnes. I mean, dear, that we should 
 endeavour to please others, because it is 
 right to do so, and not merely for the 
 sake of gaining their favour ; and there- 
 fore, though we were quite sure that we 
 should fail in this, still the chief reason 
 for trying would remain the same. 
 
 Eliza. Oh ! but, Agnes, I am not like 
 you. I cannot do a thing because it is 
 right ; I want some reward, or some 
 praise, for doing it. 
 
 Agnes. Well, then, Eliza, remember 
 what a reward those who do right now 
 will have at last. But, besides, it often 
 seems to me such a great thing for chil- 
 dren like us to be able to please God ; 
 perhaps you do not understand me, but I 
 mean that I think God is so very good in 
 
70 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 letting us try to please Him ; so very 
 good to give us strength on purpose to 
 try, when we have none of our own. 
 
 Eliza. Oh ! Agnes, I never have such 
 thoughts. I cannot understand how it is 
 that } r ou do. 
 
 Agnes. How I wish you had them, 
 too, Eliza. I scarcely know how I should 
 go on without them, because it makes me 
 so happy to believe, that, by every little 
 thing I do I may please Him who always 
 sees me ; and it is such a comfort, if 
 others mistake the reasons of any of my 
 actions, and therefore are vexed with me, 
 to remember that no such cause can 
 make God angry with me. 
 
 " I wish that I were like you, Agnes," 
 thought Eliza ; but she did not express 
 her thought ; she only said : " Agnes, I 
 see we are quite different." 
 
 A short time after this conversation, it 
 happened that Emily Gardiner was sum- 
 moned home, owing to the illness of a 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 71 
 
 cousin, which proved fatal. She was 
 therefore kept from Mrs. Wakefield's 
 some little time ; and on her return, 
 though still lively, she did not seem quite 
 so eager and playful as before. During 
 her absence a new game had been intro- 
 duced into the school, and some of the 
 children had new hoops made on purpose 
 for it, (for it was played with these.) A 
 day or two after Emily came back, some 
 circumstances prevented both Miss Wake- 
 fields and their mother from taking their 
 pupils on their usual walk ; so they were 
 left to play in the garden. The new 
 game was instantly proposed, and one of 
 her companions explained it to Emily. 
 Agnes was standing by, and, as she look- 
 ed up at Emily's mourning, she could 
 hardly believe her to be still a child, with 
 the same feelings, as at the time of their 
 quarrel a few weeks before. 
 
 " Oh !" answered Emily, " I cannot 
 play, I have no hoop ; besides, I did' not 
 
12 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 intend to play again with Agnes." 
 
 The tears came into Agnes's eyes ; but 
 she hid them, and ran away. Presently 
 she returned, bringing her hoop with her. 
 
 "Emily," she said, " I am not going to 
 play, so will you take this ? I have 
 brought it on purpose for you." 
 
 " No," was the reply, " I do not wish 
 to play to-day ; I had rather walk quiet- 
 ly ; so keep your hoop for yourself ; but 
 thank you, Agnes, all the same." 
 
 There was something in Emily's man- 
 ner, more than her words, which made 
 Agnes feel happy, as she joined her com- 
 panions ; for she thought that she had at 
 last persuaded Emily to forget their 
 former quarrel. Nor was she mistaken. 
 The next time the two children were 
 alone together, Emily began talking to 
 Agnes thus : 
 
 Emily. Agnes, I have something which 
 I want to say to you. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 73 
 
 Ag-nes. Well, let me hear it, then, 
 Emily. 
 
 Emily. But, before I tell you what it is, 
 you must answer me one question. Agnes, 
 do you think you ever could love me ? 
 
 Agnes. Why, Emily, what do you 
 mean ? To be sure I could, if you would 
 let me. 
 
 Emily. Then, Agnes, I am very sorry 
 indeed for the way in which T have been 
 behaving to you all this time ; but if you 
 think you can forget it, and forgive me, 
 I will not go on thus any longer. 
 
 Agnes. Oh ! Emily, I shall be so glad 
 to forget it, and to think that you do not 
 dislike me so much as I once believed 
 you did. 
 
 Emily. Pray do not imagine that I dis- 
 like you now, Agnes, or you will be quite 
 mistaken," replied Emily ; and here the 
 conversation was interrupted. 
 
 But, though Emily said no more then, 
 her manner towards Agnes from that time 
 10 
 
74 AGNES AND ELIZA ', 
 
 was quite altered. It was a delightful 
 change to the latter, who now began to 
 like school very much. Miss Charlotte 
 Wakefield, finding her attentive, and de- 
 sirous to improve, had grown quite at- 
 tached to her ; the elder girls liked her, 
 because she never spoke rudely to them, 
 and was always obliging in doing what 
 they asked her ; and she had, besides, 
 one or two little friends who were her 
 constant companions. About this time, 
 too, she enjoyed a great pleasure in the 
 receipt of a note from Mrs. Shaen. That 
 lady had lately written to Mrs. Wakefield, 
 to inquire how the little girls were going 
 on ; and, receiving in reply a particularly 
 good account of Agnes, she had sent her 
 a letter by way of encouragement. The 
 child was delighted at the idea of having 
 gratified her grandmama, and she thought 
 how good her Heavenly Father was in 
 giving her these lesser rewards for doing 
 right, and hoped that all the things which 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 75 
 
 made her so happy just now, came from 
 Him as marks of His favour ; for she had 
 heard her grandmama say that we ought 
 to look upon blessings in this way. 
 
 But I have not yet mentioned one thing 
 at Mrs. Wakefield's, which was a source 
 of pleasure to Agnes. Mr. Sanderson, 
 the Rector of Stoke, was a very excellent 
 man ; and, whilst he endeavoured to at- 
 tend most carefully to the wants of all his 
 flock, he took especial pains with the 
 young ; the children of his poorer parish- 
 ioners he catechised every Sunday in 
 church, and saw them often besides, at 
 their own homes and at school ; and he 
 by no means neglected Mrs. Wakefield's 
 little household, calling in from time to 
 time, and speaking to one and another of 
 her pupils. He likewise paid regular vis- 
 its at the school, at more fixed intervals ; 
 and to these Agnes and several of her 
 companions used to look forward with 
 delight. On such occasions, during the 
 
76 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 last and the present half-year, Mr. Sander- 
 son had been going through the Catechism, 
 *and explaining it. He had now got as 
 far as the middle of the answer to the 
 question : " What is thy duty towards thy 
 neighbour ?" and here I will relate to you 
 what he said upon that part of it : " To 
 order myself lowly and reverently to all 
 my betters." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Can you tell me, chil- 
 dren, what is the difference between the 
 meaning of this and the last clause : " To 
 submit myself to all my governors, teach- 
 ers, spiritual pastors, and masters V" 
 
 " That told us only how we should act 
 towards our teachers and masters ; and 
 this says in what way we should behave 
 ' to all our betters.' " 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Very true. This 
 speaks - more generally than the former 
 clause ; but there is another difference 
 between them ; do you know what it is ? 
 
 The children were silent. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 77 
 
 Mr. Saxdersox. What were the duties 
 commanded you in that part : " To sub- 
 mit myself," &c. ? 
 
 " Submission — obedience." 
 
 Mr. Saxdersox. Right ; now here you 
 are taught how you should show that 
 spirit of submission in your manner. 
 And there are two words made use of to 
 express that manner. You are to order 
 yourselves, — how ? 
 
 "Lowly and reverently." 
 
 Mr. Saxdersox. Do these two words 
 mean the same thing ? 
 
 " Yes, sir. No, sir." 
 
 Mr. Saxdersox. Not quite. I will ex- 
 plain this to you : lowly refers to your- 
 selves ; you should think humbly of your- 
 selves, and that will make your manner 
 quiet and gentle ; reverently has regard to 
 others ; you should think of them in this 
 way, and that will make your manner to- 
 wards them respectful. Do you under- 
 stand me, children ? 
 
78 4GNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Well then, what two 
 things ought you to show in your be- 
 haviour ? 
 
 " Gentleness and respect." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. What do you mean 
 when you say at the end : " To all my 
 betters ?" Who are they ? 
 
 " All above us." — " Those who are our 
 superiors." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Is there more than 
 one way in which people may be your 
 superiors ? 
 
 "Yes, sir; there are several." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Tell me one of them. 
 
 " They may be our superiors in age." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Right ; and with re- 
 gard to such, you should remember the 
 verse : " Ye younger, submit 3^ourselves 
 unto the elder." Tell me, now, another 
 way. 
 
 " They may be our superiors in sta- 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 79 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Yes ; God has so or- 
 dered it, that there shall be different de- 
 grees in station, from the chief magistrate 
 down to the cottager. And of these He 
 says: "Render, therefore, to all their 
 dues : tribute, to whom tribute is due ; 
 custom, to whom custom ; fear, to whom 
 fear ; honour, to whom honour." How 
 else may any be our superiors ? 
 
 " By their office." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson". Yes ; by their office 
 or relation to you ; for these two come to 
 much the same thing, Thus a teacher is 
 placed over a pupil, a parent over a child, 
 a king over his subjects, a minister over 
 his flock. Are people generally your 
 superiors in more than one of these 
 ways ? 
 
 " Yes. Almost always, sir." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Yes. Whilst you are 
 children, you are placed with those who 
 are not only older than yourselves, but 
 are also above you in some other way, 
 
80 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 either by their relation as your parents, or 
 b} r their office as your instructors. There- 
 fore you see you have a double reason 
 for ordering yourselves lowly and reve- 
 rently towards them. 
 
 « Yes, sir." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Now you told me that 
 these words meant that } T ou should be 
 gentle and respectful. Can you give me 
 any instances in which such a manner 
 will show itself? Mind, I am speaking 
 now of humility in manner only ; of the 
 duty of submission and obedience in our 
 actions, I have had occasion to talk to 
 you before. 
 
 " In our way of speaking ; that we 
 should address our superiors as ' Sir' or 
 1 Ma'am,' or give them whatever title may 
 belong to them." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Right ; can you give 
 me another instance ? 
 
 " In our silence when they are speak- 
 ing, if we are likely to disturb them." 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 81 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Quite right ; and 
 anything else ? 
 
 " Only that if there is anything we have 
 to do for them, we should do it in a re- 
 spectful way." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Yes ; and there are 
 other little things which you might men- 
 tion, such as rising when any old persons 
 enter the room and speak to you, and by 
 opening the door for them when they 
 leave it. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Mr. Sanderson. Well, children, those 
 of 3^ou that are the younger ones, I mean, 
 I will tell you a story of those two famous 
 nations among the Greeks, the Athenians 
 and Spartans. It was once when they 
 were all assembled to witness their na- 
 tional games. — and at these times the dif- 
 ferent Greek tribes used to sit in separate 
 places in the theatre, as it was called, — 
 that an old man, a stranger, entered 
 among them. He walked along the part 
 11 
 
82 AGXES AND ELIZA J 
 
 where the Athenians were, but they took 
 no notice of him. Now the Athenians 
 had many rules about politeness, and 
 prided themselves upon being a courteous 
 people. Then he came up to the seats 
 of the Spartans, and they immediately 
 rose, and made room for him. Upon 
 which the old man cried out : " The 
 Athenians know what is right, but the 
 Spartans practise it." 
 
 " I hope, my dear children," continued 
 Mr. Sanderson, "that you will be like 
 both these nations : that you will know 
 what is right, like the Athenians, and do 
 it, like the Spartans. For knowledge 
 without practice will help you little. And 
 consider, besides, how much higher mo- 
 tives for a suitable behaviour you have, 
 than a heathen people could know." 
 
 So Saying, Mr. Sanderson rose to go, 
 and the little girls all curtseyed to him as 
 he took his leave. 
 
 It now began to draw towards the holi- 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 83 
 
 days ; and Agnes and Eliza, in common 
 with their schoolfellows, were looking for- 
 ward to them with great pleasure. First, 
 however, came the examination ; and 
 Agnes was anxious about this, for she 
 very much wished to be moved into a 
 higher class, that thus she might show her 
 grandmama and aunt that she had taken 
 pains to improve during the half-year. 
 She needed not, however, have been so 
 anxious ; for her diligence and perseve- 
 rance at Mrs. Wakefield's had been so 
 constant, that it now required no great 
 effort on her part to pass such an exami- 
 nation as would enable her to accomplish 
 her purpose. 
 
 Eliza, too, had determined, a few weeks 
 before, to prepare herself for this trial ; 
 and she pleased herself with imagining 
 how much she should surprise her com- 
 panions and Miss Charlotte Wakefield by 
 her sudden success ; and what a clever 
 child they would think her, to be able to 
 
84 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 do so much in so short a time. Foolish 
 little girl ! she did not consider how 
 wrong she had been in wasting her time 
 hitherto, and giving so much trouble as 
 she had done by her carelessness and in- 
 attention ; and she forgot, that, whilst all 
 she had intended was to take no especial 
 pains to improve, she had really been go- 
 ing back, or at least suffering others to 
 get before her ; and so, now that she 
 really wished to apply herself to her stud- 
 ies in earnest, she was so unused to do 
 so, that she found everything difficult and 
 perplexing ; still she tried, and tried hard 
 to accomplish what w r as given her to do, 
 until she saw that every one in the class 
 could succeed better than herself; and 
 then, after her usual custom, she aban- 
 doned all further efforts. 
 
 It w^as not Mrs. Wakefield's habit to 
 give prizes to the lesser children, perhaps 
 because she thought they would probably 
 remain long enough with her to obtain 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 85 
 
 one in another class, and she wished them 
 to be moved from the lowest as soon as 
 possible. But Agnes was not by this 
 prevented from longing for the day when 
 the issue of the examination might be 
 known. 
 
 And a happy morning it was to many 
 of the little girls. It was the week before 
 Christmas, a cold, bright day. After 
 breakfast the children were called from 
 the school-room into the parlour ; there, 
 upon the table, the different prizes were 
 very prettily set out ; some were nicely- 
 bound books, some little work-boxes, or 
 writing-cases ; for Mrs. Wakefield did not 
 confine her rewards to one or two chil- 
 dren in the class, but allowed all to re- 
 ceive them who had reached a certain 
 point of progress in their studies, or whose 
 behaviour had been such as to merit a 
 prize for good conduct. 
 
 The little ones were first called by her, 
 — not, as we have said, for the purpose of 
 
86 AGNES AND ELIZA; 
 
 receiving any of these ; but Mrs. Wake- 
 field, who was on this day the only acting 
 person, summoned them each to be com- 
 mended or blamed, according as they 
 had passed their examination, and she 
 made at the same time certain observa- 
 tions upon their conduct throughout the 
 half-year. Then those who were to be 
 moved into the upper class were allowed 
 to go and stand among the elder girls, of 
 whom it consisted. Agnes was one of 
 those to whom this permission was given, 
 and great was her delight in consequence. 
 As each was called up to take her prize, 
 Mrs. Wakefield now and then cast a look 
 at the little girl, and two or three of her 
 companions in the same situation, and 
 expressed her hope that at the end of the 
 next examination she might have the 
 pleasure of bestowing a reward upon 
 them also ; a wish in which Agnes could 
 heartily join. 
 
 There now remained only the three or 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 87 
 
 four great girls, who formed a class by 
 themselves. It was their concluding half- 
 year at school, and not without something 
 of a sorrowful feeling were these their 
 last prizes given and received. Perhaps, 
 on their part, this was because they were 
 considering how many more they might 
 have gained had they but improved their 
 whole time with Mrs. Wakefield as they 
 should have done ; but, be that as it may, 
 a kind of gloom seemed to succeed the 
 former gaiety of their companions at the 
 thought of their finally quitting Stoke. 
 
 It was usual with Mr. Sanderson, in 
 the afternoon of this day, to call at Mrs. 
 Wakefield's, and speak to her pupils ; 
 thus, encouraging or reproving as he saw 
 occasion, he would take leave of them for 
 the holidays ; not, however, without some 
 words of advice as to the manner in 
 which the vacation should be spent. 
 
 In the summer the evening of the prize- 
 day was generally passed at the rectory ; 
 
88 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 and, as Agnes heard the description of 
 the happy games and merry talking in the 
 garden and parlour, she quite longed for 
 the time when she might share in all their 
 pleasures. 
 
 Her thoughts were, however, soon re- 
 called, by the bustle of packing around 
 her, to the more immediate and, perhaps, 
 greater delight of seeing her grandmama ; 
 for it had been settled that the first part 
 of Agnes's and Eliza's holidays should be 
 passed with Mrs. Shaen, — a plan which 
 was very welcome to the two little girls. 
 
 Yet it was by no means unmixed pleas- 
 ure which Eliza felt in the prospect of her 
 return to Westcote. She was thoroughly 
 mortified by the issue of her examination ; 
 vexed that younger children should have 
 done so much better than she could do ; 
 vexed again at the idea of remaining an- 
 other half-year exactly where she had at 
 first been placed ; and also at the thought 
 of the difference in the accounts which 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 89 
 
 Agnes and herself would have to give 
 their grandmama of their proceedings at 
 school. What effect Eliza's feelings had 
 upon her conduct I will relate by and by ; 
 at present let us leave the little girl to 
 her sad reflections. 
 
 There was yet one Sunday more before 
 the holidays. It was a beautiful day ; 
 and seemed to Agnes and some of her 
 school-fellows a delightful calm after the 
 excitement of the preceding week. 
 
 Before church in the morning Mrs. 
 Wakefield had sent a few of the children 
 to walk in the garden ; and Agnes, who 
 was among the number, soon found her 
 little friend Lucy Seymour beside her. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, Agnes ! are you not glad 
 that our last Sunday is so fine a one? It 
 is just as though everything would smile 
 upon us before our going home. 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Lucy, I am very glad ; 
 this day makes one feel quiet again, after 
 the bustle of the examination. 
 
90 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 Lucy. I cannot feel quiet though; I 
 am constantly thinking about returning 
 home, and especially that I shall be able 
 now to tell mama that I have got into 
 another class. Dear, how delightful that 
 will be ! I have been wishing for this so 
 very much ; but I shall not tell her di- 
 rectly, not till she asks me. Oh ! now I 
 know what I shall do. When my sister 
 Isabella sees me, and says : " Well, Lucy, 
 what have you done this examination, 
 and where are you ?" then I shall not say 
 anything ; and I know that she will an- 
 swer : " Ah ! I thought how it would be ; 
 I never believed that you would be moved 
 this half-year, though you promised us 
 so ;" and she will go on talking, till mama 
 says to me : " Well, Lucy, my love, let 
 me look at you a little, and see how you 
 are, and how much you have grown ; and 
 we will hear of the examination present- 
 ly." Then I shall tell her all about it, you 
 see — don't you think that I shall like it? 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 91 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Lucy, it will be very de- 
 lightful to you to give them all so much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Lucy. But that was not quite what I 
 meant, Agnes. They will think it such a 
 great thing for me to have done as I have ; 
 I know Isabella will, although, perhaps, 
 she may not say so. 
 
 Agnes. Well, dear Lucy, I am very 
 glad for you ; and I like, too, to think that 
 we shall be together next half-year. 
 
 Lucy. And you must be glad for your- 
 self, too, for what you have done ; only 
 you are older than I am, so it is not such 
 a great thing for you. 
 
 Agnes. Perhaps not Lucy ; but yet I 
 do think of it a great deal, only not quite 
 in that way. I should be afraid to think 
 of it as you do, Lucy. 
 
 Lucy, Afraid, Agnes? What do you 
 mean ? 
 
 Agnes. I should be afraid it would 
 make me proud, Lucy, to consider that I 
 
92 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 had done something very good ; so what 
 I chiefly look forward to, is the pleasure 
 it will give my grandmama to hear about 
 the examination. 
 
 Here they were joined by little Jane 
 Stevenson, who asked and obtained Ag- 
 nes's consent to walk with them. Jane 
 was about Lucy's age, but not so bright 
 a child , she bad done pretty well at the 
 examination, but was not thought suffi- 
 ciently advanced to change her place. 
 
 " Do you believe, Agnes," continued 
 Lucv, " that it is wron^ for me to feel as 
 I do. I am afraid I cannot help it." 
 
 "But, Agnes," said Jane, who had 
 heard a part of the former conversation, 
 " can we help being proud when we have 
 done well "?" 
 
 " I do not know, Jane, whether we can 
 help it altogether," replied Agnes ; and 
 here she paused. 
 
 " Well, Agnes," cried Lucy, " why do 
 you stop ?" 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 93 
 
 " I was thinking," answered Agnes, 
 " what grandmama would say to me, if 
 she were here. I fancy she would tell 
 us, as she has often told me before, when- 
 ever we are tempted to be proud, to re- 
 member Him who came to visit us in 
 great humility, and has left ' us an exam- 
 ple that we should follow his steps ;' I 
 have heard my grandmama speak thus, 
 till I have sometimes imagined it impos- 
 sible for me to be proud again ; and then, 
 too, I have thought, what a happy thing 
 it is that we, who are so ready to think 
 highly of ourselves, should have such a 
 perfect pattern of humility before us." 
 
 " Well, I will try your way, Agnes, 
 "when I go home," said Lucy. 
 
 " Oh ! do not wait till then, Lucy," 
 answered Agnes. " Try it, dear, every 
 day, so soon as one proud thought comes 
 into your mind." 
 
 " And I will try, too," said little Jane ; 
 " and thank you, Agnes, for telling me." 
 
94 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I will pass over the happy holidays that 
 Agnes spent with her grandmama. You, 
 my young readers, can well imagine them 
 for yourselves. Among the little girl's 
 greatest pleasures was that of seeing that 
 Mrs. Shaen had much recovered her for- 
 mer health, so that Eliza and herself could 
 be with her, as they had once been, with- 
 out the fear of tiring her. The last part 
 of the vacation the children passed, with 
 Mrs. Denham, who was very kind in do- 
 ing all in her power to amuse them. 
 
 And now I will fulfil my promise of 
 letting you hear a little more about Eliza. 
 She returned to Westcote, as you were pre- 
 pared to believe, with far less joyous feel- 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 95 
 
 ings than her sister ; but, when there, she 
 soon lost the remembrance of her former 
 disappointments ; and unhappily, as she 
 forgot the consequences of her faults, she 
 forgot the faults themselves. The free- 
 dom she enjoyed at Mrs. Shaen's, and 
 even with her aunt, was to her so delight- 
 ful after school, that she seemed once 
 more fall of life and spirits. There was 
 nothing in particular to call forth her be- 
 setting sin of pride ; for Agnes was not 
 very ready to speak of the progress she 
 had made beyond her sister ; and Miss 
 Charlotte Wakefield, still looking upon 
 Eliza as a dull, rather than a wilfully idle 
 child, had made no heavy complaints of 
 her in the letter which she wrote to her 
 grandmama in the beginning of the holi- 
 days. So the little girl fancied herself 
 happy, that no more notice was taken of 
 all her indolence and inattention at school. 
 Poor child ! it would have been far better 
 for her to learn humility, though by suffer- 
 
96 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 ing, than to go on imagining she could 
 have peace, whilst she cherished her 
 pride. But we shall often find it thus : — 
 that those who have been warned, (and 
 Eliza had been several times,) and de- 
 spised those warnings ; who have had 
 good examples set before them, and re- 
 fused to follow them ; who have felt con- 
 victions, and stifled them, are left, sooner 
 or later, to themselves ; and this is the 
 worst thing that can befal them. 
 
 Eliza, however, was not thus left at 
 present. When she returned w T ith her 
 sister the next half-year to school, she re- 
 solved to make a grand effort to be placed, 
 as soon as the opportunity should arrive, 
 among the elder girls ; although she knew 
 this could not now be till Midsummer. 
 She therefore began to apply herself with 
 greatly increased diligence to her lessons ; 
 and so far it was well. But, meanwhile, 
 a readier obedience to Miss Charlotte 
 Wakefield formed no part of her plan ; 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 97 
 
 pride was her only motive for exertion 
 now, as once it had been the cause of her 
 indolence ; and, indeed, she rather fancied 
 that the desire to improve in her studies 
 gave her a right to follow them in her 
 own way. She was, therefore, inclined 
 to look upon the directions of her govern- 
 ess, when they crossed her own will, as a 
 needless interference ; and the conse- 
 quence was, a constant struggle between 
 that lady and herself, something like what 
 had taken place about a year before, be- 
 tween Mrs. Denham and this her trouble- 
 some niece ; only now that Eliza was 
 older, her pride was more deeply-rooted, 
 and her passions stronger than formerly. 
 But as in this story I wish to speak of the 
 grace and the blessings of humility, rather 
 than of the sin and danger of pride, I will 
 not dwell on Eliza's conduct at this time, 
 nor its sad consequences. Agnes often 
 grieved over her sister ; but, as they were 
 in separate classes, she was not able to 
 
98 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 be much with her, and, indeed, Eliza 
 seemed to shun her presence, which 
 greatly grieved her. She would often, 
 however, when alone, pray for her ; and 
 she was the more encouraged to do this, 
 for she knew that He, who had put into 
 her own heart the desire for humility, 
 which of herself she never would have 
 known, could take away Eliza's pride, 
 and make her humble, too. Two or three 
 times, however, in the course of the half- 
 year, the sisters talked together very 
 gravely. On one occasion, in particular, 
 Eliza was found by Agnes crying bitterly, 
 in consequence of some task which had 
 been imposed upon her as a punishment, 
 when the following conversation took 
 place between them : 
 
 Agnes. Oh ! Eliza, what is the matter 
 with you ; are you ill ? 
 
 Eliza. No, Agnes, T am not ill ; but I 
 wish that I were, and then I should not 
 stay here, and be persecuted in this way. 
 
v 
 
 Mffi 
 
 Eliza was found by Agnes, crying bitterly." 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 99 
 
 Agnes. In what way, dear ? 
 
 Eliza. Oh ! Agnes, you know as well 
 as I do, and therefore why do you ask 
 me ? It's all very well for you to be 
 happy here, but you must not expect me 
 to be so. 
 
 Agnes. I am afraid you would not be 
 happy anywhere just now, Eliza ; not 
 even at Westcote. 
 
 Eliza. And pray why should I not be, 
 Agnes ? What is it you mean ? 
 
 Agnes. I wish, dear Eliza, that, instead 
 of supposing yourself with grandmama, 
 you would imagine her here, and think 
 what she would say to you. 
 
 Eliza. And what would that be, Ag- 
 nes, pray, since you can fancy things so 
 readily ? 
 
 Agnes. Oh ! Eliza, I cannot say it half 
 so well as she would ; but only recollect 
 her favourite texts, and consider Who it 
 is that speaks in them. 
 
 Eliza. Agnes, I can't recollect ; I don't 
 
100 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 wish to think of anything but Miss Wake- 
 field ; and as to doing what she tells me, 
 I never will ! 
 
 Agnes. Oh ! Eliza, I cannot stay to 
 hear you talk in this way. Do, do put 
 those thoughts from you ; only try and do 
 it, dear, and learn your lessons ; do any- 
 thing but feel and speak so. 
 
 But Eliza would not be silent ; and 
 Agnes, seeing that it only increased her 
 sister's answer to have some one to whom 
 she could express it, rose and left her. 
 
 Yet she did not cease to think of her, 
 wondering within herself at the change 
 that had come upon Eliza. She well re- 
 membered their childish games together 
 in former years at Westcote ; she recol- 
 lected how often a hard task had seemed 
 easier when its difficulty was shared by 
 her sister, and a fresh lesson more delight- 
 ful because it was new to them both. 
 " Eliza was naughty then, sometimes, I 
 know," said Agnes to herself, "but she 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 101 
 
 would soon be good again ; and even at 
 Aunt Denham's she used to come to me 
 whenever she was unhappy, and ask me 
 to beg aunt to forgive her. And last half- 
 year, though certainly she gave Miss 
 Wakefield much trouble, and some of the 
 little girls disliked her, she would often 
 be my own dear Eliza still ; but now, I 
 cannot tell what she is like." 
 
 In this way the child continued her re- 
 flections, till the school-bell summoned 
 her to her lessons. 
 
 Had it not been for her sister, this 
 would have proved a very happy half- 
 year to Agnes. She was making progress 
 in her pursuits ; and, as a reward for her 
 past diligence, Mrs. Shaen allowed her 
 now to learn of one or two of the masters 
 who attended at the school. Miss Wake- 
 field, too, was much kinder in her man- 
 ner, and more disposed to notice her, than 
 Miss Charlotte had been ; and, finding her 
 always ready to listen, she would often 
 
102 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 talk to her on those subjects of which the 
 little girl best loved to hear, till Agnes 
 was surprised to find that any one besides 
 her grandmama could speak to her when 
 alone so pleasantly. Then, also, Emily 
 had grown quite affectionate in her behav- 
 iour to her, and Agnes in return was dis- 
 posed to do more than like Emily ; so that 
 they began to be looked upon throughout 
 the school as two principal friends ; for 
 Lucy Seymour happened to be away 
 during the greater part of this half-year ; 
 and from little Jane Stevenson Agnes was 
 necessarily a good deal separated, though 
 the child would continually find some- 
 thing or other to do for her, or ask as a 
 favour to be allowed to walk with her, 
 and Agnes was by no means backward in 
 granting the request, for she sincerely 
 loved her little friend. 
 
 Midsummer was now approaching, and 
 the idea of a prize, and of the evening at 
 the Rectory, were frequently in the mind 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 103 
 
 of Agnes. Her hopes, however, in com- 
 mon with the bright prospects of many of 
 her schoolfellows, were this time to be 
 disappointed. In the beginning of June, 
 scarlet fever broke out at Mrs. Wake- 
 field's, and her pupils were in consequence 
 hastily dismissed to their homes. Much 
 as Eliza had before been wishing to re- 
 turn, she was now thoroughly mortified ; 
 for throughout the half-year she had stead- 
 ily kept in view the resolution with which 
 she began it ; and, notwithstanding all her 
 faults, as indolence was not now one of 
 them, it seemed likely she would attain 
 her object, and be moved into the upper 
 class. Now, the fear lest her being oblig- 
 ed to leave school without any examina- 
 tion should prevent this, wholly occupied 
 her thoughts. In vain did Agnes assure 
 her that Miss Wakefield would not allow 
 it to do so ; and once, indeed, the more to 
 comfort her, she ventured to say that per- 
 haps it was better for Eliza not to undergo 
 
104 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 an examination, as thus she avoided the 
 remarks which might have been made 
 upon her conduct. But this, though done 
 in a very gentle way, made Eliza so an- 
 gry, that Agnes was afterwards silent. 
 
 " Oh, Agnes ! dear Agnes !" said little 
 Jane to her on the morning the}?- were to 
 leave; "lam so sorry for you, for you 
 have been wishing so much for a prize, I 
 know ; and now, though it is not your 
 fault, you cannot have one." ', 
 
 " It is not my fault, Jane, 1 " answered 
 Agnes, "and therefore I tike less mind; 
 that is, I try not to mind it." 
 
 " Oh ! but," continued Jane, "just con- 
 sider how pleasant it would have been for 
 you, the first Midsummer after your com- 
 ing to school, to have had a prize to take 
 home. Now you must w^ait till Christ- 
 mas." 
 
 " I have thought of all this before, 
 Jane," replied Agnes ; " and at first I 
 was very sorry about it. But I have got 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 105 
 
 over those feelings now ; only do not 
 bring them to my mind again, for I am 
 sure they would easily return." 
 
 " Well, then, Agnes, I won't try," said 
 Jane ; " but let me ask you a question 
 instead. Tell me how you got over 
 them ?" 
 
 " You know, Jane," answered her 
 friend, " that, whenever I want to find 
 out what is right for me to do or to feel, I 
 fancy what grandmama would say to me. 
 And I can the better do so now, because 
 I heard from her the other day on this 
 very subject of the prizes, before she 
 thought that I should be obliged to return 
 home so suddenly ; and she bids me re- 
 member the text : l Before honour is hu- 
 mility.' But stay, I will read you exactly 
 her sentence, for I always carry about 
 her last letter with me. ' Humility must 
 go before honour, Agnes, but it must not 
 be parted with when honour comes ; that 
 were a sad exchange for my child ; and 
 14 
 
106 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 so, if you cannot have both, I would 
 rather wish for you humility without hon- 
 our, than honour without humility.' Now 
 I think, Jane," continued Agnes, " that, if 
 I had obtained my prize, it might have 
 made me proud ; and then I should have 
 had just what granclmama did not wish 
 for me, honour without humility." 
 
 It was a happy thing for Agnes that 
 humility had been one of Mrs. Shaen's 
 favourite subjects of conversation, so that 
 the little girl could scarcely think of her 
 grandmama without having some precept 
 about, or example of, this grace, brought 
 to her mind. It might have been the 
 same with Eliza. It did often happen, 
 that when she was about to give way to 
 some proud temper, verses which she had 
 learnt or heard at Westcote would come 
 to her recollection ; but she had from the 
 very first tried to forget them ; and the 
 poor child had so well succeeded, that 
 they had only once been in her remem- 
 
PR, HUMILITY. 107 
 
 brance during the ]ast half year, in a vio- 
 lent fit of passion ; then she immediately 
 put those thoughts from her, that she 
 might indulge her temper without re- 
 straint, and never, since that time, had 
 they visited her again. 
 
 A few days after Agnes and Eliza left 
 Stoke, they were both taken ill at Mrs. 
 Denham's, (for they had gone immediately 
 to her) with scarlet fever. It broke out 
 with Agnes, as it had done with her little 
 school-fellows, in a very mild form ; but 
 Eliza soon became dangerously ill ; and 
 her sister, having recovered sufficiently for 
 this purpose, was therefore sent over to 
 Westcote. It was a strange thing to the 
 little girl to, feel sorrow in the prospect of 
 going to her grandmama's ; yet now she 
 would far rather, if she might, have staid 
 by and watched Eliza ; or if this had not 
 been permitted her, still she thought, that 
 by remaining in the house she should at 
 least have had the solace of hearing con- 
 
108 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 tinually how her sister was. However, 
 Mrs. Denham considered, and perhaps 
 rightly, that it would be better for Agnes 
 to be entirely separated from her ; she 
 allowed her to take one last look at Eliza, 
 who was scarcely conscious of her pres- 
 ence ; and then, kissing the little girl, al- 
 most lifted her into the chaise. On her 
 arrival at Westcote, Mrs. Shaen did what 
 she could to comfort her ; but, as her sis- 
 ter grew worse, she determined herself to 
 go over to Barrow to be with her, and so 
 Agnes was left under the care of Aylton. 
 I will not describe the child's bitter sor- 
 row, as from time to time the thought 
 forced itself into her mind, that she should 
 never see Eliza again ; nor the kind of 
 trembling delight, which Aylton would 
 now and then awaken in her, at the words 
 that her sister might yet recover. And, 
 if so, Agnes went on to hope she might 
 be a very different and a better child. 
 But these days of anxiety, long though 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 109 
 
 they seemed to poor Agnes, were not 
 many. In about a week's time a letter 
 from her grandmama put an end to her 
 uncertainty ; and, whilst it told her that 
 she could never see her sister more upon 
 earth, it spoke so reverently of Him, 
 " whose never- failing Providence ordereth 
 all things in heaven and earth ;" pointed 
 with such love to Him who once shared a 
 sister's grief; so trustfully to Him who is 
 the Comforter, — that it much helped the 
 little girl to put down any murmuring 
 thoughts against her Heavenly Father. 
 Her sorrow was not less deep, but it be- 
 came a softer, holier feeling. She was 
 enabled to obey the command, of which 
 Mrs. Shaen reminded her, to humble her- 
 self under the mighty hand of God ; and 
 though she was but a child, she found, as 
 really as older people, the sweet calm 
 that follows the really looking upon every 
 event, as ordered by Him who doeth all 
 things well, — the humbly taking up of the 
 
110 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 cross laid upon us by Him who bore His 
 own so meekly for us, — the yielding up of 
 the whole will to Him who deigns to dwell 
 in the lowly heart. 
 
 Quietly, therefore, could Agnes now 
 wait her grandmama's return, which was 
 delayed for ten days ; so quietly, indeed, 
 that Aylton was astonished to hear no 
 expression of discontent or impatience 
 uttered by the little girl in all her sorrow ; 
 and she once ventured to say so. 
 
 " Oh, Aylton !" was the reply, " if you 
 had read my letter, and been taught as I 
 have, you would not wonder then." 
 
 
 W 
 
OR, HUMILITY. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Having now followed Agnes during 
 the earlier part of her childhood, I do not 
 intend to give you, my readers, so exact 
 an account of her future history. I have 
 already told you about her sufficiently to 
 enable you to judge what kind of little 
 girl she was, and how she became and 
 continued so ; and you may all think for 
 yourselves how far you are like her, — like 
 her in this especially, that, wherever you 
 are, you are showing the same humble, 
 and therefore contented spirit. 
 
 From what you have already heard of 
 Agnes, you will easily believe, that each 
 year as it passed, still found and left her 
 improving ; for, wishing and seeking to be 
 
112 AGNES AND ELIZA; 
 
 guided, she was guided in the way that 
 she loved ; and, the further she advanced 
 in it, the lowlier she became, — the more 
 ready to make allowances for others, 
 though unwilling to excuse herself. 
 
 She continued some years at Mrs. 
 Wakefield's,. for hergrandmama and aunt 
 both thought that she enjoyed more ad- 
 vantages there than could elsewhere be 
 given her. Agnes, feeling their kindness 
 in allowing them to her, endeavoured to 
 improve them to the utmost ; so that, after 
 the first Midsummer, there was no half- 
 year in which she did not return home 
 without one prize at the least as the token 
 of her good conduct, or improvement in 
 her studies. She was a general favourite 
 throughout the school ; still, Emily Gar- 
 diner, and Lucy Seymour, and Jane Ste- 
 venson (now no longer little Jane,) were 
 her chief friends. Yet, much as she loved 
 them, she ever felt a kind of loneliness 
 since Eliza's death. Her regret was per- 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 113 
 
 haps increased, because she had so often 
 formerly, when grieving over her sister's 
 conduct, comforted herself with the hope 
 that, as Eliza grew older, she would im- 
 prove ; and now that prospect was gone 
 for ever. Besides, Agnes was afraid that 
 she had not always spoken and acted be- 
 fore her sister, nor been kind and forgiving 
 towards her, as she ought. " Oh ! had I 
 been different," she would say to herself, 
 " she might have been so, too." 
 
 But these recollections were not useless 
 to Agnes ; they made her more watchful 
 now, especially when she was with those 
 whom she loved, lest she might hereafter 
 have cause to reproach herself in the 
 same way with regard to them. 
 
 Her holida} 7 s were now regularly spent 
 at Westcote ; for, after she had been 
 about two years at school, some family 
 affairs had called back Mrs. Denham to 
 the north, where she had resided the 
 greater part of her life. 
 15 
 
114 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 And now, as I draw nearer to the end 
 of my story, I feel a fresh difficulty ; for 
 I am supposing that several years have 
 passed with Agnes since its commence- 
 ment, and she therefore speaks, and must 
 be spoken of as an older person ; whereas 
 with you, my readers, it is probably but 
 a short time since you took up this little 
 book. However, though you may not 
 now understand everything in this part of 
 my tale, you may yet like to continue it ; 
 and perhaps it may some day come to 
 your recollection, when you can better 
 enter into its meaning. 
 
 What T have to relate of Agnes will be 
 still chiefly, as hitherto, her behaviour in 
 small and common things ; for they are 
 such as are more likely to happen to your- 
 selves, — they must at least occur more 
 frequently than greater events. 
 
 Emily Gardiner left school the vacation 
 before Agnes ; and it was then settled, 
 with the consent of the mama on the one, 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 115 
 
 and the grandmama on the other side, 
 that, if all should be well, the next Mid- 
 summer, before Agues returned to West- 
 cote, where she was thenceforth to take 
 up her abode, she should pay a visit to 
 her friend at Woodford, so Emily's home 
 was called. There was much to occupy 
 Agnes's mind during this last half-year, 
 as she wished to make the most of 
 the time which yet remained to her at 
 Stoke ; but, as the holidays approached, 
 with many happy imaginations, and plans 
 of the life she was to lead with her grand- 
 mama, was mingled the delightful pros- 
 pect of seeing Emily, and being made 
 acquainted with her home. 
 
 That Midsummer prize-day dawned 
 lovelily upon many bright faces at Mrs. 
 Wakefield's ; and, if Agnes's was not 
 among the most so, it was because she 
 had spent too many pleasant years at 
 Stoke, to feel unmingled joy at the thought 
 of leaving it. It was an exciting day to 
 
116 AGNES AND ELIZA; 
 
 her, for she received, together with her 
 prizes, the highest commendations from 
 Mrs. Wakefield, and not a few congratu- 
 lations from her schoolfellows ; so that 
 she was glad of the quiet of the evening 
 to collect her thoughts. Sleep, however, 
 presently came to interrupt her medita- 
 tions ; but an opportunity was soon given 
 her for a fuller indulgence in them. A 
 few mornings afterwards, Agnes set out 
 on her way to Woodford ; each arrange- 
 ment had been made, her last leave-ta- 
 kings were over, and she was alone ; she 
 had, therefore, full leisure for looking 
 back on the past, or forward to the future. 
 She occupied herself with the first ; and 
 thence many serious thoughts rose to her 
 mind. Not the least so was the remem- 
 brance of the time when, with Emily and 
 a few others of her companions, she had 
 taken upon herself the duties, and been 
 admitted to the full privileges, of a mem- 
 ber of the Christian Church ; scarcely 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 117 
 
 more than a twelvemonth had elapsed 
 since the period of Agnes's confirmation ; 
 and the tower of Tlton church, where it 
 had taken place, as it caught her eye in 
 the distance, brought each circumstance 
 vividly to her mind, — the vow, and the 
 blessing, and the prayer. No wonder, 
 then, that they were very grave feelings 
 of which Agnes was conscious during the 
 first part of her journey. 
 
 Meanwhile, the day seemed long to Em- 
 ily, for she must wait till the evening for 
 the arrival of her friend. The house and 
 garden at Woodford, pleasant at all times 
 in Emily's eyes, seemed doubly so then, 
 as she watched for Agnes by the sum- 
 mer twilight ; and, happily, the calmness 
 and beauty around her somewhat soothed 
 her impatience for the hour of their meet- 
 ing. That came at last, and the joy which 
 it brought to both was nearly equal ; but 
 the greatness of its degree I will leave to 
 the imagination of my readers. 
 
118 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 Agnes had heard so much of Mrs. Gar- 
 diner from her } r oung daughter, and had 
 formed such an exact idea of her in her 
 own mind, that she felt not a little anxious 
 to see her ; and she was desirous also to 
 know how so sensible and agreeable a per- 
 son as Emily represented her mama to be, 
 could yet be so different from Mrs. Shaen, 
 as her friend assured her that she was. 
 A few days at Woodford convinced her 
 that Emily was right ; that Mrs. Gardiner, 
 though she quite equalled the expectations 
 which Agnes had formed of her, was yet 
 an entirely different character from her 
 own grandmama. Mr. Gardiner and her- 
 self were both extremely kind to Agnes ; 
 they were prepared to welcome her as 
 the friend of their daughter, but they soon 
 learned to like her for her own sake. 
 The visit was, therefore, on all accounts, 
 a very pleasant one to her ; she enjoyed 
 all the freedom of a large house in the 
 country, and could pursue her occupations 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 119 
 
 with Emily with little interruption ; there 
 was a lovely garden where they could 
 walk together, and Mr. Gardiner would 
 often accompany them in long country 
 rambles. It was a pretty room, too, 
 which Emily had chosen for her friend ; 
 the window looked upon the valley below 
 the house, where, amid the cluster of cot- 
 tages forming the village, stood the tiny 
 church ; and the chime of its bells often 
 sounded sweetly on Agnes's ear. Still, 
 surrounded by these things, she loved to 
 think who it was that gave them to her ; 
 and, receiving them as proofs of a good- 
 ness which she did not deserve, she tried 
 to use them all, as He would have her, 
 who had bestowed them. 
 
 Agnes felt much, too, the kindness of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and was only 
 sorry that she had it but little in her 
 power to prove that she did so ; yet, per- 
 haps, her manner showed it more than 
 anything else could have done. They, on 
 
120 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 their part, were very glad that their 
 daughter should have chosen such a 
 friend ; and, when she spoke of going, 
 they were urgent with her to prolong her 
 visit. 
 
 When Agnes had been about ten days 
 at Woodford, one morning at breakfast 
 Emily proposed taking her to see Martha 
 Panton, an old inhabitant of the parish, 
 who lived at some distance from Mr. 
 Gardiner's house. 
 
 " I have been thinking of it a long 
 time," she said, " and the walk will be so 
 pleasant this beautiful day ; shall we go, 
 Agnes ?" 
 
 " You may be sure I should like it, 
 Emily," replied her friend. 
 
 The plan was mentioned accordingly to 
 Mrs, Gardiner, who started some objec- 
 tions. 
 
 " The fields will be too wet for you 
 from the late rain," she observed ; " and 
 by the lane I do not quite like your going. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 121 
 
 It is so much further, and so lonely." 
 
 "Oh! mama," cried Emily, "I often 
 walk alone down that very way, a.nd I 
 have never met with anything disagree- 
 able, excepting once an old blind horse ; 
 and Agnes is not easily frightened." 
 
 " Pray, do not object to the walk on 
 my account, ma'am," said Agnes ; " I 
 have no doubt I should enjoy it." 
 
 " I quite believe," replied Mrs. Gardi- 
 ner, " that you would neither of you be 
 the least afraid, and very possibly you 
 might pay your visit and return with the 
 utmost safety ; still, I do not think it ex- 
 actly the thing for you. However, do as 
 you like ; I have told you what I think 
 about it." 
 
 So saying, Emily's mama left the room. 
 
 "Dear," continued Emily to her friend, 
 " I cannot see what harm there would be 
 in the walk. That lane is uot a pleasant 
 one, I know, but I have often been there 
 
122 AGNES AND ELIZA ', 
 
 quite by myself; and you would not 
 mind it, would yon, Agnes ?" 
 
 " Oh ! not for myself in the least," re- 
 plied Agnes ; " one lane is much the same 
 to me as another in that respect ; I like 
 them all. But I suppose your mama is a 
 better judge about the matter, so shall we 
 not give up the walk for to-day ?" 
 
 " It's tiresome, though," answered Emi- 
 ly ; " for, if we do not go to-day, I can- 
 not tell when we shall ; to-morrow, you 
 know, we are engaged." 
 
 "Let us put off our visit, however, this 
 once," said Agnes ; " and leave the future 
 to itself." 
 
 Emily at length agreed in this opinion ; 
 and presently afterwards it came into her 
 mind, that, as they could not go to Martha 
 immediately, they might in the meanwhile 
 have time to make her a gown, of which 
 the poor woman stood greatly in need. 
 She therefore invited Agnes to assist her 
 in the choice of something suitable for 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 123 
 
 she was in the habit of supplying the 
 wants of certain families among the vil- 
 lagers. This done, the two friends both 
 set busily to work. 
 
 " You are very diligently occupied," 
 said Mrs. Gardiner, as she entered the 
 parlour that evening ; " that looks a nice, 
 dark colour; is it your selection, Agnes?" 
 
 " I believe Emily and I both agreed on 
 the choice," replied Agnes. 
 
 " And it seems a strong stuff, too," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Gardiner. " But, Agnes, my 
 dear, surely that work is hardly strong 
 enough. It is all very well to look at, but 
 would not prove durable, I am afraid." 
 
 Agnes saw that Mrs. Gardiner was 
 right. 
 
 " Indeed, I think I have made a mis- 
 take," she replied. " Emily, will you let 
 me look at your work ?" 
 
 " Emily's is not over and above strong, 
 I see," said her mama ; " but it is better 
 than your's. I should advise you, Agnes, 
 
124 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 to take some coarser cotton, and run those 
 gathers again." 
 
 "Oh! mama," said Emily; "surely 
 Agnes need not take all that trouble? 
 Martha is an old woman, and does not 
 want her gowns for doing hard work in." 
 
 " Thank you ! Emily," exclaimed Ag- 
 nes ; " but I do not mind the trouble, and 
 I had rather take your mama's advice." 
 
 Then, thanking Mrs. Gardiner for tell- 
 ing her of her mistake, (for Agnes was 
 always glad to be shown where she was 
 wrong,) she set to work to rectify it ; and, 
 though it took her a good while to do 
 so, she did not afterwards repent of the 
 delay. 
 
 Very shortly after this incident occur- 
 red, a friend of Mrs. Gardiner's came to 
 spend a little time at her house. The 
 name of this lady was Mrs. Rankin ; she 
 was the mother of little Mary, about 
 whom you heard in the early part of my 
 story. Her daughter had not been pass- 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 125 
 
 ing these holidays at home ; for, as she 
 was to return finally at Michaelmas, it 
 had been thought better for her to remain 
 during this summer at school — the same 
 school, at her first return from which 
 she had spent a few days at Westcote, as 
 you may remember. Mrs. Rankin herself, 
 although a distant cousin, had never seen 
 Agnes ; and, indeed, it was chiefly on 
 this account that Mrs. Gardiner had now 
 invited her friend. She was an agreeable 
 person ; with a peculiarly pleasing man- 
 ner. She soon took a great fancy to 
 Agnes, whose simplicity and modesty had 
 quite a charm for her ; and Agnes, on the 
 other hand, learned to admire the ease 
 and grace of her cousin's deportment. 
 Indeed, as Emily once remarked to her 
 mama, there was something alike in both ; 
 only what was in Mrs. Rankin but the 
 effect of education, and of the society in 
 which she had mixed, sprung in Agnes 
 from character and principle, 
 
126 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 A morning or two after her arrival, 
 Agnes and Emily were employed in turn- 
 ing over the leaves of a book which lay 
 upon the breakfast-ta.ble. 
 
 " How very dull must this volume be !" 
 exclaimed the latter, to her friend. 
 
 " Particularly so, I should say, judging 
 from its appearance," replied Agnes. 
 
 " Oh ! so you have got my book there, 
 have you, young ladies !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Gardiner, on entering the room ; " and 
 pray what do you think of it ? A most 
 interesting work, I assure you, it is." 
 
 " Indeed, papa !" cried Emily; "then 
 it is well you did not hear what we were 
 saying just now, for we both agreed that 
 it seemed extremely dry." 
 
 " Have you, either of you, read it, 
 then ?" inquired Mr. Gardiner. 
 
 " No, we have not, sir," answered 
 Agnes. 
 
 " Then do not speak without know- 
 ledge. I can only tell you I have not 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 127 
 
 been so much pleased with any volume for 
 a long time ; and I really advise you both 
 to read it before I send it away, which I 
 must do shortly. Miss Graham, I thought 
 I heard you inquiring for some book to 
 read yesterday ; in my opinion, you can- 
 not do better than take this ; and I shall 
 be most happy to lend it to 3 r ou, for I 
 have just finished it." 
 
 Mr. Gardiner then continued the con- 
 versation with Mrs. Rankin. Agnes, mean- 
 while, again took up the work which she 
 had heard him praising so highly, and 
 it still appeared to her exceedingly un- 
 interesting ; but she knew Mr. Gardiner 
 to be a sensible man, and believed that 
 he was more likely to form a right esti- 
 mate of its merits, after having read it 
 through, than herself, who had scarcely 
 seen it. She resolved, therefore, to fol- 
 low his advice ; and she soon had reason 
 to be glad she had done so, as the work 
 contained abundant information on a sub- 
 
128 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 ject about which she had lately been in- 
 quiring ; nor was the present the only 
 occasion on which Agnes's willingness to 
 listen to the recommendations of others 
 proved of great advantage to her. 
 
 In the course of breakfast that morning, 
 Martha Panton's name being mentioned, 
 Mrs. Rankin proposed to take the two 
 young friends to the cottage in her chaise, 
 as she said she had a call to make in 
 that direction. The offer was gladly ac- 
 cepted. 
 
 " Well, Emily," observed Agnes, as 
 they went up stairs to dress, " you see 
 we have gained two things by taking 
 your mama's advice the other day about 
 waiting, — Martha's gown, and a pleasant 
 drive." 
 
 " Yes, mama is generally right," replied 
 Emily ; " but somehow, Agnes, I am not 
 quite such an advocate for being guided 
 by other people as you are." 
 
 " You should rather say," returned her 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 129 
 
 friend, " for listening to it ; that I would 
 do in most cases, at all events." 
 
 On their return from Martha, Agnes 
 was Mrs. Rankin's companion in the 
 chaise, and she appeared very willing to 
 enter into conversation with her. 
 
 " You have now been here long enough 
 to form a judgment of this part of the 
 country," she said ; " which do you pre- 
 fer, Westcote or Woodford ?" 
 
 " Most parts of Somersetshire, are beau- 
 tiful, I think," replied Agnes ; " and I 
 shall remember this place with peculiar 
 delight ; but yet it hardly seems to me so 
 lovely as Westcote ; the lanes are not so 
 deep and green, nor the hills so wooded." 
 
 " But," continued Mrs. Rankin, "have 
 you seen the Hanger, and the Deep Dell, 
 and the Fairies' Glen ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Agnes, " I have seen 
 them : for Mrs. Gardiner has been very 
 kind in taking me everywhere ; and I ad- 
 mire them all exceedingly." 
 
130 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 " And you still prefer Westcote !" said 
 Mrs. Rankin. " That is the effect of 
 prejudice. Your village must indeed be 
 beautiful, if it surpasses this. I think I 
 shall come and pay a visit to you there, 
 and explore for myself." 
 
 " I am sure," replied Agnes, " I shall 
 be very happy to show you our scenery. 
 "Westcote is quite noted in that part of 
 the country for its loveliness." 
 
 " You seem fond of the country, Ag- 
 nes," observed Mrs. Rankin. " I dare 
 say you recollect those lines of Cowper's, 
 beginning * He is the freeman whom the 
 truth makes free.' There are many beau- 
 tiful sentiments in Cowper ; though, as 
 a poet, I much prefer Thomson. You 
 know the ' Seasons,' do you not ?" 
 
 " Yes, I read them during my last holi- 
 days," replied Agnes ; " but I think I 
 know more of Cowper." 
 
 " And which do you prefer?" inquired 
 her cousin. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 131 
 
 " Indeed," said Agnes, " T cannot tell 
 which I ought to like best ; but at present 
 Cowper is my favourite, certainly." 
 
 " That is only because you are not suf- 
 ciently acquainted with Thomson," re- 
 marked her companion ; " what ! you do 
 not think so, Agnes ?" 
 
 " Perhaps it may be as you say," re- 
 plied Agnes ; "but yet there is some- 
 thing about Cowper which, I fancy, would 
 always please me more than Thomson." 
 
 " And what is that ?" asked Mrs. 
 Rankin. 
 
 " I can hardly tell," answered Agnes ; 
 " sometimes I have imagined it is that 
 Cowper lets me know more of his own 
 feelings, and they are such as I can well 
 understand." 
 
 " Some people are of your opinion, Ag- 
 nes," replied her cousin; "but, in my 
 judgment, Thomson and Cowper are not 
 to be compared." 
 
 Mrs. Rankin then began to talk upon 
 
132 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 one or two other subjects, about which 
 her ideas rather differed from those of 
 Agnes ; but, as the latter was invited by 
 her cousin to express her opinion, she did 
 so, gently, indeed, but very clearly. At 
 the conclusion of the drive, as the two 
 young friends walked together into the 
 house, Emily exclaimed to Agnes :< 
 
 " Well, I congratulate you upon so well 
 maintaining your side against Mrs. Ran- 
 kin. It was all the better for you, as I 
 could render you no assistance." 
 
 " Indeed," replied Agnes, ' : I was not 
 aware that I was in any situation of diffi- 
 culty. Mrs. Rankin is so kind, I do not 
 mind talking to her ; and, if I am asked, 
 you know I must say what I think." 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure ; I seldom mind say- 
 ing what I think," cried Emily ; "only it 
 amused me to hear you, remembering 
 what happened about that dull book this 
 morning, and how ready you were to be- 
 lieve papa." 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 133 
 
 " Yes," said Agnes ; " and I always 
 wish to listen to the advice of those who 
 are so well able to give it. But I still do 
 not think that it is inconsistent with this, 
 nor do I see any want, either of politeness 
 or humility, if a person expresses an opin- 
 ion, when asked, even though it should 
 happen to differ from that of another." 
 
 " In that I quite agree," answered 
 Emily ; " and I believe, Agnes, few people 
 would quarrel with one for differing with 
 them in matters of taste merely, such as 
 you were speaking of; but in more im- 
 portant things it is so difficult, do you not 
 think, for young persons to disagree with 
 any of their superiors, without incurring 
 the censure of being very self-opinion- 
 ated ?" 
 
 " Emily, dear," replied Agnes, " I can 
 imagine instances where those even who 
 are* quite young may be called upon to 
 differ from such as they are yet bound to 
 esteem and honour, and to show their 
 
134 AGNES AND ELIZA*, 
 
 difference by their conduct ; yet even 
 then this may be done, as I am sure it 
 ought to be done, in a very humble man- 
 ner. Happily for us, however, these are 
 cases which we can only imagine ; and 
 I should think that, generally speaking, 
 young persons like ourselves were more 
 apt to err, by paying too little deference 
 to the judgment of others, than by over- 
 valuing them." 
 
 " Well,, you may be right, Agnes," 
 said Emily ; and thus the friends sepa- 
 rated. 
 
 I have already mentioned that one of 
 Agnes's pleasures at Woodford was af- 
 forded her by her friend's beautiful gar- 
 den ; she liked to be there alone in the 
 early morning, that she might enjoy her 
 own thoughts, which were usually then 
 very pleasant ; and at other times she 
 would employ herself in learning favour- 
 ite poems, or reading. Many a happy 
 hour, too, did she there pass with Emily ; 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 135 
 
 thus preparing for her, as the latter would 
 often say, fresh pleasures of memory to 
 solace her when Agnes should leave. 
 
 On such occasions Agnes was espe- 
 cially fond of recounting speeches or anr 
 ecdotes of her grandmama ; and Emily 
 loved to hear them, partly from the pleas- 
 ure which the relation gave to her friend, 
 and partly because she already felt a 
 great affection towards Mrs. Shaen, al- 
 though she had never seen her. 
 
 One remarkably fine evening, they were 
 walking together in their favourite shrub- 
 bery, when the following conversation 
 took place between them : 
 
 Emily. I think, Agnes, if every even- 
 ing were like this, (and like it, also, in 
 your being with me,) I should become 
 quite a different creature, and grow so 
 calm and contented as to cease to look 
 forward continually, as now I do. For 
 did you ever see a lovelier twilight ? 
 There is but one cloud above us, and I 
 
136 AGNES AND ELIZA ', 
 
 would not wish it away, it rests so softly 
 there, 
 
 Agnes. It is very, very beautiful, Em- 
 ily. Do you not think, dear, that such a 
 scene as this helps us somewhat to realize 
 that description given us of God, as " the 
 High and Lofty One, that inhabiteth eter- 
 nity, whose name is Holy !" 
 
 Emily. It might well do so, Agnes ; 
 but yet I do not know that I ever looked 
 upon it before in that way. 
 
 Agnes. Perhaps I am the more inclined 
 to do so, because I well remember the 
 first time my grandmama repeated that 
 verse to me, on an evening much like this. 
 I believe I had not been quite good just 
 before, and so she quoted those words, 
 and went on to the end of the text. I 
 recollect even now how she spoke to me 
 about it. "I dwell in the high and holy 
 place, with him, also, (what an also, 
 Agnes !" she said,) " that is of a contrite 
 and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 137 
 
 the humble, and to revive the heart of the 
 contrite ones. Do you ever, my love," 
 continued grandmama, " wish for a hum- 
 ble spirit ? then see what God has joined 
 with it, contrite. My dear child, if you 
 would be humble, ask God, who only can 
 do so, to show you your offences against 
 Him ; and when you see how many, and 
 how great, and how aggravated, they are, 
 you will not be disposed to be proud 
 in your conduct towards men." Then 
 grandmama went on to tell me of the hap- 
 piness of having God to dwell in the heart, 
 till I thought how blessed a thing that 
 humility must be, to which such a prom- 
 ise is given. 
 
 Emily. What an advantage you have 
 had, Agnes ; and will, I hope, long con- 
 tinue to have, in the society of one who 
 talked to you so often on such a subject ! 
 And you have done well to remember 
 what she said. 
 
 Agnes. Oh, Emily ! I wish I had ta- 
 18 
 
138 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 ken more pains to do so ; then I should 
 have recollected more. But, however, 
 the whole effect of her example and con- 
 versation will not, I trust, be quite lost 
 upon me. I can recall now so many 
 texts, that she loved to repeat over and 
 over again, which speak of humility, 
 either in the way of precept, or example, 
 or promise. Often, too, as we walked 
 with her to church, she would tell us how 
 humbly the Bible teaches us to pray ; and 
 how our Church, following herein the ex- 
 ample of Holy Scripture, would impress 
 upon Her members the same spirit of hu- 
 mility by all Her services. Then she 
 would quote many instances of this. 
 
 Emily. Tell me some of them, Agnes, 
 please. 
 
 Agnes. We need but turn to the Pray- 
 er-Book, dear ; (and we can remember 
 our Collects without doing that just now ;) 
 petitions we have expressed in such a 
 form as this : " We humbly beseech 
 
OR HUMILITY. 139 
 
 Thee ;" thanksgivings, " We give Thee 
 humble thanks," "We most humbly 
 praise Thy name ;" confessions — but of 
 these I need not remind you. Think, too, 
 of the whole spirit of our Services ; or let 
 us take, as a specimen, that one — surely 
 it is among the most beautiful — for the 
 Holy Communion. Did it never strike 
 you there how the deepest humiliation is 
 blended with the sublimest praise ? the 
 confession followed by that glorious hymn : 
 " Therefore with angels and archangels ;" 
 and that again by the lowly prayer : 
 " We do not presume to come to this 
 Thy table, O merciful Lord," &c. For, 
 as it says in a verse which my grandma- 
 ma sometimes repeated : 
 
 " The soul that so abased lies 
 With deepest shame and humblest cries, 
 Most meet shall join in angels' lays, . 
 And lowliest heart yield highest praise." 
 
 Emily. Agnes, dear, I always like to 
 
140 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 hear you talk of your grandmama. How 
 I wish I knew her ! 
 
 Agnes. I hope you will know her 
 some day, Emily," said Agnes ; and so 
 saying, she followed her friend into the 
 house. 
 
 The morning after this dialogue, as Em- 
 ily entered the breakfast-room, " Here, my 
 love," said Mrs. Gardiner to her, display- 
 ing a bag of rather curious workmanship ; 
 " this is a present Agnes has made me." 
 
 " How very pretty !" exclaimed Em- 
 ily ; " and how nicely you have done it, 
 Agnes, if it is your work !" 
 
 " You must have made several bags of 
 this kind before, I should think," said 
 Mrs. Gardiner, " or you would hardly 
 have arrived at such perfection ; for really 
 there is some practice as well as inge- 
 nuity required in this work." 
 
 " A young lady at school taught me," 
 answered Agnes ; " you knew her, Em- 
 ily, — Augusta Haines." 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 141 
 
 " Oh !" cried Emily, " I am sure she 
 might have taught me long enough before 
 I should have made any progress." 
 
 "Well," replied Agnes, "I will say 
 much credit is due to her patience with 
 me ; but, after all, this work is not so dif- 
 ficult an affair as you seem to imagine. I 
 could very easily show it you, if you have 
 any wish to learn." 
 
 " Oh ! from you, Agnes," said Emily, 
 " I am always willing to learn anything ; 
 though, in the present instance, I fear I 
 shall prove but a dull scholar." 
 
 Accordingly the two young ladies soon 
 found an opportunity of beginning their 
 employment. They had not been long 
 seated, when Mrs. Rankin rather sud- 
 denly made her appearance. 
 
 " And so I find you, as usual," she said, 
 " diligently occupied. You are teaching 
 Emily that pretty work, are you, Agnes ? 
 Well, it is uncommonly elegant. I have 
 just been admiring Mrs. Gardiner's bag, 
 
142 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 and now I am come to say that I must 
 learn myself." 
 
 " I am sure," answered Agnes, " I shall 
 be very happy to show you." 
 
 " Yes, my dear," replied Mrs. Rankin ; 
 " but I do not intend to be taught just yet. 
 You must come to Otterbourne, and there 
 I shall have my lesson." 
 
 Agnes smiled. 
 
 " Yes, Agnes," continued her cousin ; 
 " but, indeed, I expect a more serious 
 reply. I see you are waiting for a formal 
 invitation, but that it is not in my way to 
 give. I am only sorry Mary is not at 
 home just now ; Mr. Rankin and myself 
 would be most glad that she should have 
 had you for a companion. Still, as to en- 
 tertainment, I can promise you some 
 without her. There are several things in 
 our neighborhood well worthy of a visit ; 
 and, as you are fond of drawing, you 
 may like to look at our pictures, for Mr. 
 Rankin is somewhat of a connoisseur, 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 143 
 
 and has a few by the finest artists. 
 Come ! I will leave you to talk the matter 
 over with Emily, and then I hope you will 
 not keep me longer without an answer." 
 
 Agnes hardly knew at first what reply 
 to make to Mrs. Rankin, except to thank 
 her for her kindness ; however, she deem- 
 ed it best, before coming to a decision, to 
 write to Mrs. Shaen on the subject. Her 
 grandmama saw no objection to the visit ; 
 she was rather glad that Agnes should 
 have this opportunity of cultivating the 
 acquaintance of her cousin. It was there- 
 fore settled, that, when Mrs. Rankin re- 
 turned to Otterbourne, Agnes should ac- 
 company her, and thence, after a short 
 stay, should return to Westcote. 
 
 " Are you not glad, mama," said Emily 
 to Mrs. Gardiner the morning afterwards, 
 " that Agnes is going to Otterbourne ? I 
 think it will be so pleasant for her, and it 
 will not take her at all sooner from us, 
 you know." 
 
144 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 " Oh, no, my dear !" replied her mama ; 
 " I shall be sorry, whenever the time 
 comes, to part with Agnes ; but perhaps, 
 on the whole, it is desirable that she 
 should stay with Mrs. Rankin." 
 
 " What makes you say ' on the whole,' 
 mama ?" cried Emily ; " why, do you not 
 like her to be there ?" 
 
 " I do like it, my dear, as I have said, 
 on the whole," answered Mrs. Gardiner; 
 " but yet there is one reason which makes 
 me a little hesitate." 
 
 " Oh ! mama, what can that be ?" ex- 
 claimed Emily ; " do pray let me hear 
 it." 
 
 " Why, Emily/' answered her mama, 
 " T see that Mrs. Rankin has taken a great 
 fancy to Agnes, and this is all very well ; 
 yet I think she does not always show it 
 in the wisest way. Agnes is a favourite 
 of mine, too ; and I should be quite sorry 
 if she becomes spoiled. She is very 
 humble now, but I do not know how far 
 
 i 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 145' 
 
 her cousin's excessive admiration may 
 tend to make her otherwise." 
 
 Emily had so high an opinion of her 
 friend, and the idea of her being spoiled 
 was so new, that Mrs. Gardiner's words 
 a good deal surprised her. 
 
 " Mrs. Rankin spoil Agnes, mama !" 
 she exclaimed ; " what ! do you think she 
 praises her too much?" 
 
 "You know, Emily," observed Mrs. 
 Gardiner, " you cannot expect any one, 
 not even Agnes, to be above the power of 
 flattery ; and, the clearer a mirror, the 
 more discernible is each speck on its sur- 
 face. However, watch for yourself." 
 
 Emily mused in silence upon what her 
 mama had said, and a little reflection and 
 observation of their visitor's conduct con- 
 vinced her that it might be right. Mrs. 
 Rankin, though in most respects very 
 sensible, was rather apt, when she met 
 with a young person who pleased her, to 
 show her partiality too openly. It was 
 19 
 
146 AGJMES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 not that she exactly flattered, but her 
 praise was given in that delicate way 
 which is most pleasing, and so most dan- 
 gerous to a modest character, and the 
 constant repetition of which is likely to 
 produce, almost insensibly, a bad effect 
 upon the mind. 
 
 No sooner did the thought that Agnes 
 was in danger of being injured, or ren- 
 dered unlike herseif, enter Emily's imag- 
 ination, than she resolved to do what lay 
 in her power to prevent such a conse- 
 quence. She waited long for an opportu- 
 nity, till at length it came to the last day 
 of Agnes's visit at Woodford, and then 
 she could delay no longer. Happily she 
 had an occasion. It was usual with the 
 two friends to read together before break- 
 fast the lessons for the morning ; and this 
 day, it being the 26th day of August, 
 they had just finished the twenty-ninth 
 chapter of Proverbs, when Emily ex- 
 claimed : 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 147 
 
 " Oh, Agnes, how long will it be be- 
 fore we shall read together so pleasantly 
 again !" 
 
 " Pray, Emily dear," replied her friend, 
 " do not put into my mind such sad 
 thoughts as those of parting now ; or, 
 if we must think of it, let it be to fix 
 more deeply in our memory these our last 
 chapters." 
 
 " Well, then, Agnes," answered Emily, 
 " I will tell you what verse struck me the 
 most as you were reading, though you 
 may think it a strange one. It was the 
 fifth : ' A man that flattereth his neighbour 
 spreadeth a net. for his feet. Do you not 
 think, dear," she continued, " that gene- 
 rally now-a-days we hear more of the 
 folly of bestowing flattery, than of the 
 danger of receiving it ? and yet, from 
 this text, it would seem no very safe 
 thing to be exposed to its power." 
 
 " Indeed, it would not," returned 
 Agnes ; " and so I think we may be glad 
 
148 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 to have been hitherto pretty well kept 
 from the trial." 
 
 "Well, I must confess," answered 
 Emily, " that I like both to give and re- 
 ceive praise very much. And yet it is so 
 difficult to know when praise becomes 
 flattery. I am afraid it would often do 
 so, in my own case, before I was aware 
 of it." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Agnes, " it is hardly 
 necessary to decide that question exactly, 
 because we can in some measure judge 
 when praise has been too much for us, by 
 its effect upon our minds. I can remem- 
 ber, from the time when I was a very 
 little girl, that generally, when my grand- 
 mama commended me, I used to be made 
 more anxious to please her again ; and I 
 think praise, if judiciously given, would 
 always have a similar effect. As for 
 what is injudicious, I have hitherto been 
 so much kept from hearing it, that I have 
 never particularly considered its danger. 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 149 
 
 But I recollect a saying of my grandma- 
 ma's : ' A little praise is good for all ; 
 much praise benefits few, and flattery 
 none.' " 
 
 " I think I agree with that," replied 
 her friend. " But, dear Agnes, though 
 you have not yet, as you say, been in 
 much danger from the flattery of others, 
 perhaps some time or other you may be ; 
 and then f Forewarned, forearmed,' you 
 know." 
 
 " Well, Emily," answered Agnes, " if 
 ever I should be so, I hope this verse may 
 come into my mind." 
 
 " I hope it may," replied Emily ; "and 
 that you will recollect that I said so." 
 
 " Thank you, Emily," returned Agnes ; 
 " and now shall we read the second les- 
 son ?" 
 
150 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 My readers may by this time have dis- 
 covered that I am not fond of lingering 
 upon parting scenes ; they will not, there- 
 fore, be surprised that I pass over Emily 
 and Agnes' s farewells, and beg them to 
 accompany the latter on her drive with 
 her cousin to Otterbourne. Mrs. Rankin 
 kindly left Agnes to her own thoughts the 
 first part of the way, and afterwards en- 
 deavoured by agreeable conversation to 
 divert her mind from the loss of her 
 friend. Every object of interest on the 
 road was carefully pointed out ; and when 
 at length they arrived at the end of their 
 journey, Agnes was quite disposed to ad- 
 mire the beautiful situation of her cousin's 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 151 
 
 house. It was a little raised above richly- 
 wooded grounds on either side. In the 
 midst of these ran a clear stream, and the 
 dark foliage of chesnut and elm was 
 beautifully reflected in the calm water. 
 Behind the house was a range of low 
 hills, now glowing with heath ; and higher 
 ones peeped above them in the distance. 
 
 " From their summit, Agnes," said 
 Mrs. Rankin, " we gain a splendid view 
 of the Channel on the one side ; and, on 
 the other, you may count village after vil- 
 lage, and at least fancy Woodford to be 
 one of them." 
 
 But it was not only in out-door scenes 
 that Agnes was called upon to express 
 her admiration ; all within was beautiful, 
 and much was new to her. There were 
 cabinets of curiosities, and paintings and 
 statues ; there was a harp, which wanted 
 not in its owner the accompaniment of an 
 exquisite voice ; and a library always at 
 Agnes' s command. Mr. Rankin was a 
 
152 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 very superior man, and, besides, took great 
 pleasure in showing his young visitor the 
 rarities with which his house was stored ; 
 and Mrs. Rankin wishing to associate 
 Agnes with her in her employment, dis- 
 played to the latter all her arrangements ; 
 she introduced her to the charity-school, 
 which she had lately established, and 
 preserved in a most perfect order ; and 
 she made her acquainted with several 
 happy families among the poor, to the 
 cottages of whom Mrs. Rankin paid fre- 
 quent visits. Thus the time passed quick- 
 ly and pleasantly with Agnes, though she 
 often longed for Emily to share her en- 
 joyment. 
 
 There was, however, a greater evil at 
 Otterbourne than the absence of Emily, 
 though poor Agnes was unconscious of it. 
 Her cousin's kindness to her was indeed 
 unvaried, but it was not the truest kind- 
 ness. Mrs. Rankin took every opportu- 
 nity of showing how high an opinion she 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 153 
 
 entertained of her visitor ; Miss Graham's 
 judgment and taste were always to be 
 consulted, her advice even must be asked, 
 upon every subject ; yet this was done in 
 such a way, that Agnes by no means 
 shrunk from it, as she would have done 
 from open flattery ; nay, she began, though 
 unawares to herself, to like her cousin the 
 better, and think the more highly of her, 
 in proportion as she paid her attention. 
 
 Still, as we have said, no event occur- 
 red for some time to disclose Agnes's feel- 
 ings to herself; and, as there was nothing 
 from without to disturb her, all went on 
 very smoothly and happily for several 
 days. * 
 
 At length, a few evenings before her 
 leaving Otterbourne, Mrs. Rankin invited 
 some friends to dinner ; and one or two 
 of them were to sleep at her house that 
 night. After tea, Agnes was, as usual, 
 called upon to play, and the commenda- 
 tions she received for her performance 
 20 
 
154 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 (not indeed without reason) were such as 
 satisfied even her cousin. Soon after, 
 Mrs. Rankin, talking with a lady about to 
 visit Scotland, wished her young friend to 
 exhibit some drawings of Benvenue and 
 Loch Katrine, which she had lately cop- 
 ied. They still lay on the table, when 
 Mr. Rankin, pausing in the midst of a 
 long argument, approached it, and took 
 them in his hand. Agnes was % standing 
 by, but he did not notice her. 
 
 " Oh ! have you not seen those Scotch 
 mountains ?" said his wife ; " then I am 
 sure you have a treat. They are Agnes's 
 drawing, you know." 
 
 " They are not badly done," replied 
 Mr. Rankin, rather hastily turning them 
 over ; " and they serve to bring to my 
 mind many a pleasant ramble in by-gone 
 days. But you had some Irish views here 
 just now ; what has become of them ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Fanny Roberts's, you mean," 
 answered his wife ; " she has taken them 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 155 
 
 away. Fanny, my dear," she continued, 
 " could you bring your drawings here 
 once more ? I am sorry to trouble you, 
 but Mr. Rankin wishes to see them." 
 
 Fanny complied. 
 
 " Thank you !" said Mr. Rankin ; " this 
 is a style I exceedingly admire, so free 
 and bold. And you have some smaller 
 drawings, I see ; may I look at them ?" 
 
 "Oh!" said Miss Roberts, "these are 
 only some sketches I have taken lately ; 
 I am quite a beginner in this way." 
 
 " But I see you know how to begin," 
 replied Mr. Rankin ; "and that is some- 
 thing. You must be very fond of draw- 
 ing, and have had a good master, I should 
 say. Have you learnt long?" 
 
 " About two years," said Miss Roberts. 
 
 " Well," observed Mr. Rankin, turning 
 to his wife, " I do not wish to speak slight- 
 ingly of Miss Graham's drawings ; they 
 are really very prettily done ; but these 
 are far more to my own taste. Miss 
 
156 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 Roberts has learnt but a short time as yet ; 
 by-and-by, if she goes on thus, I think 
 she will attain to some excellence." 
 
 Agnes heard all this conversation, and 
 her first feeling was one of vexation. 
 She was mortified that Mr. Rankin, who 
 was known to be a judge about such 
 things, should have seemed to disregard 
 her own drawings, and have shown such 
 a decided preference for those of another ; 
 and especially that he should have ex- 
 pressed this opinion to Mrs. Rankin. Her 
 second was that of envy and dislike to- 
 wards the young lady who had been the 
 innocent cause of his remarks. For a 
 few moments she indulged this feeling, 
 but it was only for a few. Scarcely was 
 Agnes conscious of the wrong disposition 
 at work within her, when she checked it 
 by the remembrance of the verse, " In 
 lowliness of mind let each esteem other 
 better than themselves." And now she 
 was as much vexed that for a moment 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 157 
 
 she should have indulged such a contrary 
 spirit, as she was before from the mortifi- 
 cation she had received. That she might 
 more - entirely put away her envious 
 thoughts towards Miss Roberts, she went 
 up and entered into conversation with 
 her, asking to see her portfolio. This she 
 was soon able to look at with real pleas- 
 ure, and both the young ladies began to 
 be interested in talking upon a subject of 
 which they were extremely fond. Agnes 
 w r as much gratified by several remarks of 
 Miss Roberts' upon the theory of painting, 
 and was able, in her turn, to furnish her 
 companion with some useful practical 
 hints, gained from her own experience. 
 Thus they separated for the night, mutu- 
 ally pleased with one another. 
 
 But when Agnes retired to her room, 
 she could not feel satisfied with herself. 
 She was accustomed to review, at the 
 close of the day, her actions, and motives, 
 and thoughts, throughout its progress ; 
 
158 A.GNES AND ELIZA ', 
 
 and though her feeling towards Miss 
 Roberts that evening was but transitory, it 
 was, nevertheless, one which she was so 
 unaccustomed to know, that she became 
 the more anxious to discover the cause of 
 the difference. Formerly, when a com- 
 parison had been drawn between herself 
 and her companions to her own disadvan- 
 tage, she had scarcely felt annoyed, much 
 less jealous of their superiority, Often, 
 indeed, she had taken as great pleasure 
 in hearing another praised, as in receiving 
 praise herself. What then could have 
 made the change ? She felt that it was 
 in some way connected with her strong 
 desire to maintain the high opinion her 
 cousin had conceived of her. " I ought, 
 indeed," said Agnes to herself, " to feel 
 grateful to Mrs. Rankin for her kindness, 
 and endeavour to show that I am so. 
 But is it right that I should be so very 
 anxious for her to continue to believe me 
 different from what I know that I am ? 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 159 
 
 I cannot certainly undeceive her myself; 
 but if anything occurs that may tend to 
 do so, should not my vexation be (if in- 
 deed I must be vexed) that I am not the 
 perfect creature she imagines, rather than 
 that she should cease to consider me as 
 such?" 
 
 Presently the thought of Emily s verse, 
 and their conversation upon it, flashed 
 across Agnes' s mind. This was followed 
 by a whole train of remembrances. She 
 could recall many times when Mrs. Ran- 
 kin had strongly expressed her approval 
 of conduct which her grandmama would, 
 she knew, have passed over in silence ; 
 others, when she had been more anxious 
 to receive the commendations of her cous- 
 in, than to deserve them ; and she remem- 
 bered having been led to say and do 
 many things, during her stay at Otter- 
 bourne, solely for the purpose of hearing 
 herself praised. And now Agnes won- 
 dered that she could have gone on so long, 
 
160 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 blind to Mrs. Rankin's ill-judged attentions. 
 " Oh," she thought, " if my only motive 
 for doing right is that of being praised, 
 perhaps before long the same principle 
 may lead me into what is very wrong. 
 And how foolish and weak I must be, 
 that so slight a thing should prove to me 
 such a temptation !" 
 
 But it is the same with older people 
 than Agnes. Those who have continued 
 longest in a right course, are not so strong 
 that they may depend upon their own 
 steadiness, nor so safe that they may 
 cease to keep a constant guard over them- 
 selves. And this is the great danger of 
 hearing much of our own praises, that, 
 believing what we are told, we are thrown 
 off our guard, and cease to take heed, 
 exactly when we have most need for 
 watchfulness. 
 
 Agnes, after this, stayed but a few days 
 at Otterbourne, but that time was suffi- 
 cient to allow her former thoughts often 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 161 
 
 to recur to her. Mrs. Rankin's conduct 
 continued the same ; she paid her still the 
 same attention as ever, but it gave Agnes 
 now no pleasure ; on the contrary, rather 
 pain, as it reminded her of her own folly. 
 And yet she was glad to be so' reminded, 
 that by the recollection of past weakness 
 she might learn where to look for strength, 
 and thus be preserved in a future time of 
 temptation. 
 
 Very grateful, too, did she then feel to 
 Emily for the warning she had given her. 
 Oh ! how often are the gentle warnings 
 of friends made use of by God to pre- 
 serve His people from sin ! Remember 
 this, my children ; and if, when you are 
 about to turn aside from the right path, 
 some kind words of those who love you 
 come across vour mind, regard them as 
 the merciful voice of your Heavenly 
 Father, to check you, and make you con- 
 sider your ways. 
 
 When Agnes left Mrs. Rankin, it was 
 21 
 
162 AGNES AND ELIZA ; 
 
 to live with her grandmama at Westcote ; 
 and if she had formerly anticipated this 
 time with great delight, abundantly now 
 were her imaginations of happiness real- 
 ized ; for those imaginations were not the 
 idle castle-building in which too many in- 
 dulge themselves. A ones had never suf- 
 fered the-thought of the future to make 
 her discontented with the present ; rather 
 ha.d humility taught her, in whatsoever 
 state she was, therewith to be content ; 
 and so now, when placed exactly in the 
 situation which, could she have chosen for 
 herself, she would have desired, she look- 
 ed up the more gratefully to Him who 
 had brought her there, and strove to show 
 forth His praise by devoting herself to 
 His service. 
 
 Mrs. Shaen was indeed now growing 
 old ; but a considerable measure of bodily 
 health and comfort were still permitted 
 her, and her mental powers w^ere vigorous 
 as ever. It was an old age which Agnes 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 163 
 
 loved to compare to the bright autumns 
 of Westcote, with their purple fruits, and 
 golden harvests, and glowing woods, and 
 sunsets of glory. In whatever weakness 
 she felt, it was Agnes's delight to be her 
 solace ; to her wants it was her privilege 
 to minister. And many of the poor of 
 the parish, towards whom for so many 
 years Mrs. Shaen had acted as a mother, 
 manifested now the affection of children 
 in her decline ; whilst Agnes, by the 
 activity and devotedness of her conduct 
 amongst them, guided as these were by 
 the experience of her grand mama, gave 
 promise that she would not ill supply the 
 place of the latter, were she hereafter 
 called upon to do so. A happy change, 
 however, about this time took place at 
 Westcote, on the death of the former 
 clergyman. The new Rector, Dr. Ham- 
 mond, with his family, came to reside in 
 the village. It was a novelty, and soon 
 felt by the inhabitants as a delightful one, 
 
164 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 to have their minister among them ; the 
 more so, as Dr. Hammond was a man 
 whom to know was to love. His wife, as 
 her health was but delicate, was very 
 glad of Agnes' s help in the parish ; and 
 the latter, acting under her direction, and 
 that of the Rector, soon proved herself an 
 effectual assistance to both. The visits 
 of Br. Hammond were sources of great 
 delight and consolation to Mrs. Shaen ; 
 and the clergyman loved, also, to watch 
 over Agnes, and advise, while he encour- 
 aged her, in every good work. 
 
 You may therefore believe, my readers, 
 that in such a situation Agnes would 
 scarcely have felt the want of companions 
 of her own age, excepting that, wherever 
 she was, she could not but mourn her sis- 
 ters loss. But, besides the society of her 
 grandmama, that of one or two young 
 friends was also permitted her ; Lucy 
 Seymour's parents lived at no great dis- 
 tance from Westcote, and so she and 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 165 
 
 Agnes contrived often to meet ; Jane Ste- 
 venson's home was too distant to allow of 
 such intercourse ; but she herself, on leav- 
 ing school, gladly accepted an invitation 
 from Mrs. Shaen to pass a little time at 
 her house, where she accordingly spent a 
 happy month with Agnes ; and, after this, 
 the letters which they wrote at intervals 
 one to another, served to maintain and 
 increase their friendship. 
 
 But where was Emily ? you will ask, 
 was she forgotten by Agnes ? After the 
 latter left Woodford, the two friends were 
 separated for some years ; most unwil- 
 lingly, indeed ; but so it was, that several 
 times, just as Emily had made everything 
 ready to go and stay at Westcote, some 
 circumstance occurred to prevent the exe- 
 cution of the plan. They were, however, 
 in no danger of forgetting one another. 
 All the occupations, and many of the 
 thoughts and feelings of each were com- 
 municated to her friend ; and, parted 
 
166 AGNES AND ELIZA ', 
 
 though they were, they scarcely the less 
 shared each other's joys and sorrows, giv- 
 ing one another encouragement in diffi- 
 culty, and comfort in sadness. 
 
 In the meanwhile it happened that 
 Emily married. Agnes could not be at 
 the wedding, which was a disappointment 
 to both ; but when about a } r ear after- 
 wards the latter received a letter from 
 her friend, begging her to undertake the 
 office of godmother to her baby, and, 
 after some consideration and consultation 
 with Mrs. Sliaen, she had acceded to the 
 request, Agnes left Westcote to be pres- 
 ent at the christening. 
 
 The infant, by its papa's wish, was 
 called Emily Alice ; but, for the sake of 
 distinction, I shall give it the latter name. 
 
 Then, at Emily's home, the intercourse 
 of former days between herself and her 
 friend was renewed ; and they found that 
 whilst years had scarcely taken from the 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 167 
 
 freshness, they had increased the strength 
 and depth of their affection. 
 
 Again Agnes returned to Westcote, 
 and time passed on quietly, but happily, 
 with her. 
 
 In the course of four years, Emily was 
 summoned to leave England with her hus- 
 band, on account of some situation which 
 had been offered the latter abroad. They 
 were obliged, much to the grief of both, 
 to leave their little one behind. This was 
 the greater sorrow to its mother, as she 
 could not. commit it to the care of her own 
 parents, for they, too, were absent ; and, 
 besides them, she had no relation to whom 
 she entirely liked to entrust her child. 
 
 Emily thought of Agnes ; and, well 
 knowing that a stronger tie than even 
 friendship for herself bound her to little 
 Alice, she ventured to write, and ask her 
 whether she were willing to undertake 
 such a charge. The last part of her let- 
 ter I will here copy for my readers : 
 
168 AGNES AND ELIZA ', 
 
 " Our darling, though rather young to 
 be at school, will yet, we trust, be taken 
 care of in every way where we have 
 placed her ; and at present her learning 
 much is a matter of no great importance. 
 But the thought that you, dear Agnes, 
 will watch over her, and let me hear of 
 her from time to time, will be very cheer- 
 ing to me ; for, since I am denied the 
 pleasure of bringing up our little girl my- 
 self, I know of no one to whom I can en- 
 trust her with such entire confidence as 
 lo yourself. I am sure those lessons you 
 were taught by your grandmama in early 
 days are not likely to be forgotten now ; 
 and 1 only wish they could be as strongly 
 impressed upon our Alice. You will teach 
 her, Agnes, — for so you learned yourself, 
 • — that to be holy, we must first be hum- 
 ble ; you will show her that the dress 
 which will best befit her is that she be 
 1 clothed with humility ;' that her truest 
 ornaments are those of ' a meek and quiet 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 169 
 
 spirit.' You will point her to the Pattern 
 of humility, and pray that she may so 
 walk, as He walked, ' in ail lowliness.' 
 And that she may be prepared, when she 
 goes out into her little world, to be told a 
 different language, that she may expect 
 to hear of such a union as a proud and 
 noble spirit ; you will bid her remember 
 that ' that which is highly esteemed 
 among men is abomination in the sight of 
 God.' " 
 
 Agnes, on the receipt of this letter, has- 
 tened to tell her friend how gladly she 
 would comply with her request ; and 
 henceforth she looked upon Alice, during 
 Emily's absence, as her adopted child. 
 She did not, indeed, take her to live at 
 Westcote, though, had Agnes wished it, 
 her grandmama would have had no objec- 
 tion to this plan ; but they both thought 
 that Alice would have more advantages 
 at school. The holidays of the little one 
 were, however, always spent at Mrs. 
 22 
 
170 AGNES AND ELIZA J 
 
 Shaen's ; then Agnes would tell her how 
 dearly she herself loved her mama, and 
 she delighted to relate anecdotes of her in 
 her childish days. Often she would say, 
 what a pleasure it would be to Alice, if 
 her life were spared, to welcome her 
 papa and mama back to England ; and 
 the child thought so, too, though she loved 
 Agnes almost like a parent, and Mrs. 
 Shaen also very fondly. Let us hope, 
 therefore, that her affection led her to fol- 
 low their example, and listen to their in- 
 structions ; then we need not doubt that 
 the little girl grew up to be such a char- 
 acter as Emily would approve when she 
 saw her again. 
 
 But these hopes are all that I can give 
 you with regard to the future history of 
 Alice ; for it is time now that we should 
 part from her, and from Agnes, who has 
 been so long our companion. The ac- 
 count of the earlier years of the latter 
 was all I intended to relate ; and I would 
 
OR, HUMILITY. 
 
 171 
 
 fain trust it has not been related in vain. 
 It will not be, if her example leads you, 
 my readers, to desire for yourselves that 
 humility, which has been represented in 
 her ; — so to desire it, I mean, that you 
 may, with regard to this grace especially, 
 for the future, obey the command, and 
 obtain the promise : " Ask, and it shall 
 be given you." 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 §elen Motion's trial 
 
 vtmuw.m 
 
 BY MRS. ALICE B. NEAL. 
 
 WITH TWO FINE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 (28) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 MUtn 3Hnrtnu r s €nnL 
 
 BY COUSIN ALICE. 
 
 " We learn from the ' Short Letter of Introduction,* 
 that the full name of ' Cousin Alice' is Alice B. Neal. 
 It is one which will not soon be forgotten ; for we hope 
 that the beautiful tale which she has produced, may be 
 only the first of a long series. We can assure those 
 who are interested in the welfare of children, and look- 
 ing round for ' Christmas Presents,' that they will not 
 readily find one which a Christian friend or parent ought 
 to prefer to ' Helen Morton's Trial.' " 
 
 [The True Catholic. 
 
 " It is a tale of exquisite sentiment and pathos, re- 
 plete with sound religious instruction, and written in a 
 true Church spirit. The authoress is Mrs. Joseph C. 
 Neal, and we trust that this is but the beginning of goodly 
 things from her pen for the little ones of Christ's flock. 
 Such works will always be most welcome." 
 
 [The Churchman. 
 
 " We have received from the Depository of the 
 General Protestant Episcopal Sunday-School Union, 
 two beautiful volumes with the foA >wing titles : — Helen 
 Morton's atrial ; The Revellers, The Midnight Sea, and 
 The Wanderer. The first is a sweet, interesting story, 
 full of wisdom for the young ; and the second contains 
 three Allegories, which possess a charm and simplicity 
 not very often or easily attained, in that difficult class 
 of composition. The handsome binding, gilt edges, and 
 nice plates of these little works, make the setting quite 
 worthy of such gems of juvenile narratives." 
 
 [ The Protestant Churchman. 
 (29) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 OR 
 
 fm\ anfr tut Communion. 
 
 ["You'll water my Geranium, Nannie dear, when I'm gone."—] 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF THE DARK RIVER, &c. 
 
 WITH THREE FINE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 This is an exceedingly interesting and affecting story, and 
 is. marked by the characteristic genius of its author. 
 
 (30) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 Ham] writ $wjm; 
 
 OR, THE FIRST AND LAST COMMUNION. 
 AN EXAMPLE OF ATTACHMENT TO HOME. 
 
 ©*)£ Testament in tl)e £inie (Coffin; 
 
 OR, THE MEMOIRS OF CAMERON HASTEN. 
 
 " These are the titles of tliree juvenile volumes, from 
 the press of the General Protestant Episcopal Sunday- 
 School Union, of an excellent character, and well- 
 adapted to secure the attention of the young to the im- 
 portance of early habits of religious thought and 
 profession. They are handsomely got up, and prettily 
 illustrated. We have, also, from the same press, 
 Christmas Carol, consisting of simple verses, com- 
 memorative of the festival of the Nativity." 
 
 [Protestant Churchman. 
 
 " They are beautifully written, and make valuable 
 books for Sunday Scholars. The scene of the third 
 above named work is laid in Western New- York." 
 [ Utica Gospel Messenger. 
 
 " Cameron Masten is a very well told story, in style 
 and language unusually suited to the apprehension of 
 Children." 
 
 [The Calendar. 
 (32) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 %tmi drill], nr % lull Cpfr 
 
 Showing how false an estimate inexperienced persons will 
 form of the qualities of the mind ; and of how much more 
 value seriousness and thoughtfulness are, than a ready wit 
 with giddiness or a bad temper. 
 
 (24) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 t imtoj <% 311iiinig!;f $m, 
 
 t SBaiiSmr. 
 
 
 
 BY THE REV. EDWARD A. MONRO. 
 
 WITH BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 (17) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 Cjpe flmlta, €ty BMgjjt &m, raft 
 
 " This work is the last, and among the best, of the 
 series of allegories with which our Sunday-School 
 Union has lately been favoring the public. Like its 
 predecessors in the series, it is a republication of an 
 English book. It adds to the many obligations we are 
 under to the venerable Church of the land of our 
 fathers. 
 
 " The book is an admirable specimen of the excel- 
 lence to which the art of printing has attained. It vies 
 with the very best of foreign publications in the texture 
 of its paper, the beauty and clearness of its type, the 
 general and inviting neatness of its pages, and the ap- 
 propriate and well-executed original designs by which 
 it is illustrated and adorned. ******* 
 
 " It is not our purpose to furnish a sketch of the con- 
 tents of this interesting volume. We prefer that our 
 readers should purchase and peruse it for themselves. 
 We will, therefore, only say, that the three well-sus- 
 tained allegories are intended to inculcate lessons affect- 
 ing the Christian life. The first represents the mem- 
 bers of the Church in the characters of revellers in a 
 magnificent palace, of which the Lord or King is come 
 (21) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 suddenly to reward or punish the occupants, according 
 to their preparations, in proper robes and deportment, 
 to receive him. The second, under the figure of the 
 midnight sea, shows the difficulties and dangers which 
 beset us in navigating our frail bark through time to 
 eternity ; aDd how indispensable it is to success and 
 safety, that we depend upon the skill and strength of 
 Christ in all our efforts. The third gives us a picture 
 of the disciples of the Lord as so many sheep in a 
 fold ; and, in a graphic sketch of a lamb as a wanderer, 
 depicts the ease with which we can be seduced from 
 faithfulness and duty, — the persevering love of our 
 Heavenly Shepherd in following us, even when we go 
 astray, — and His promptness in assisting us. and making 
 us, as it were, His burden, whenever we will confess 
 our inability to proceed, and entreat Him to bear us in 
 His arms. 
 
 " Every person who purchases this book, and helps 
 to circulate it, is sure to improve the minds with which 
 he brings it in contact ; and to instruct immortal souls 
 in the things which most seriously influence alike their 
 present comfort and eternal peace." 
 
 [ The Evergreen. 
 
 (22) 
 

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