it so that her mother used often to declare that she had more trouble with Eliza's clothes in one month, than Ruth's mamma had with her's in a whole year; and no wonder. Eliza met with such frequent instances of the mischievous tendency of her favourite excuse, that one would have thought she might have been induced to discard it. Scarcely a day passed but she, or those around her, suffered more or less from it. Not to mention such misfortunes as the frequent falls and bruises which occurred from loose shoe strings, and the like. : One time she sustained a considerable loss for want of replacing a button to her pocket. She found it was come off one morning; and saying, as usual, I can do without it, she substituted a pin.-Pins, though very useful things in their way, are certainly made most use of by lazy, untidy people. Things went thus for two or three days but at last, as she was returning from a long walk, upon feeling for her handkerchief, she discovered that the pocket with all its contents had escaped. Eliza felt this loss considerably; for besides her thimble, a silver knife, a pencil case, and a purse with seven and sixpence in it, her pocket that day unfortunately contained a beautiful coral necklace which had lately been made her a present of. A very improper place for a necklace, it will be said; very true: but the case was this:-Eliza, being fond of ornaments, came down that day, prepared for her walk, with this necklace slipped over her tippet. To this her mother very properly objected, as having a tawdry and ungenteel appearance, and desired her to take it off. Eliza complied reluctantly; but instead of replacing it safely up stairs, she indolently slipped it into her pocket, and thus lost it, as related above. Another time, one of her bonnet-strings coming unstitched, she fastened it on, as usual with a pin, and going out with it in this state, it came undone when she was walking by the river side: the wind being high, it blew her bonnet off into the water, and there she saw it sailing irrecoverably down the river, like a swan. One day her mother gave her a small phial containing an acid for taking out ink spots, and other stains; and desired her to write a label for it." Dear!" said Eliza, when her mother was out of hearing, “ it will do just as well without it;" so she left it as it was. Soon after, her mother feeling unwell, desired Eliza to give her a few drops of salvolatile. She went carelessly to find the phial, and snatching up this in mistake, gave her mother a dose of the poisonous fluid. Being aware of her daughter's careless habits, she fortunately tasted a little before taking the whole, and so discovered the mistake. Thus it was, that indolent habits, sanctioned by a foolish saying, endangered even the life of her mother. Eliza felt these things; but she considered them as accidents and misfortunes, not as the natural consequences of her faults, so that they made no useful impression upon her. It too often happened that she varied her motto by the alternate use of all the personal pronouns. He, she, they, or you, can do without it, was as commonly heard as it. This was usually the case when any little service was required of her by those around; in which case, the struggle between her inactive habits and a sense of duty was quickly decided by the use of this unfriendly sentence. Her father and mother, her brothers and sisters, as well as her neighbours, missed many a kind service by this means. It must also be observed, that Eliza rarely applied these words to herself in the way of restraint. When there was any thing that she wished for, it was seldom indeed that she said, I can do without it; for, to excercise self denial, requires an effort of mind much more painful to the indolent than any bodily exertion. Eliza according 216 I CAN DO WITHOUT IT. ly treated herself with every thing she liked that she could by any means get the money to purchase; at the same time laughing at the frugal habits of her friend Ruth; and often prophesying that she would die a miser. The inactivity and carelessness of Eliza's disposition extended to every thing in which she was called to engage, and lamentably retarded the progress of her education. Her father and mother were anxious to furnish her with every useful acquirement in their power, with a view to her future respectability, usefulness, and independence. But to Eliza, the acquisition of knowledge, of whatever kind, was extremely irksome. Nothing is to be attained without trouble; and trouble was the thing she could not endure. Whatever was proposed to her as a desirable study, she used to think, if not to say, that she could do without it. Therefore, notwithstanding the cost and pains that were bestowed upon her, she grew up ill informed and unfurnished. Even reading was a toil which she thought she could do as well without, unless a book happened to be merely entertaining. It will not be imagined that a person so slothful in business should be "fervent in spirit, or active in serving the Lord." The concerns of the soul, indeed, are the first to suffer from an indolent temper. If "the kingdom of heaven must suffer violence, and if even the violent can only take it by force," how shall the feeble and languid efforts of indolence prevail? Alas, religion was one of the things that poor Eliza was contented to do without. In spite of a pious education, and occasional impressions, she too often excused her neglect of prayer, and other means of grace, by the secret application of her favourite sentence. At length a time arrived, long anticipated by her parents, when their circumstances rendered it necessary that Eliza should do something for her own maintenance; and now, notwithstanding all the pains I CAN DO WITHOUT IT. 217 that had been bestowed upon her education, the utmost that could be said of her, in an advertisement drawn up by her disappointed father, was to this effect: "Wants a situation, as governess to the younger children in a private family, or as under teacher in a school, a young person of respectable connections, who is qualified to teach the rudiments of English grammar; to superintend plain work, or to make herself useful in any way that may be required." How different an account would have been given of Eliza's qualifications, and in how different a sphere might she have moved, if she had not so often thought and said of this attainment, and of that pursuit, I can do avithout it! In these humbling circumstances, she amused herself with fruitless wishes for a fortune, in order that she might not be obliged to exert herself; not considering that the same inactive temper which makes a poor person helpless and dependant, renders the rich discontented and miserable. We cannot stay to detail the subsequent misfortunes of Eliza. It is sufficient to say that a time arrived when she had some practical experience of the virtues of her motto, in a way little desired. Instead of saying, as formerly, I can do without it, she was compelled very often to say-I must do without it; and that, not in reference to the luxuries of life, but to some of its most essential wants. How much better it is to say,-I can do without it, of a superfluity, than to say, I must do without it, of a comfort! Let those who would avoid all danger of the latter, early enter into the spirit of the former; and let them learn nicely to distinguish between those things which, without any real privation may be done without, and those which cannot be neglected but by the sacrifice of respectability, usefulness, and happi · Thy hands have made me and fashioned me; give me understanding that I may learn thy commandments." "FOLLY," it is said, " is bound up in the heart of a child;" and it is accordingly, a general complaint that their minds are so entirely engrossed by the toys and trifles of the age, that religious instruction makes no abiding impression upon them. There are indeed many pleasing exceptions; yet they are but exceptions to the statement. In a sad majority of instances this thoughtlessness and this forgetfulness of God continue during the still more giddy season of youth; and fix into worldliness, and final hardness of heart in the more advanced stages of maturity and old age. But that it is not always thus, there are many happy instances to testify. A period at length arrives, not perhaps till childhood is past, when the young person begins to reflect. He is suddenly struck with some of those considerations which had heretofore been urged in vain. He considers that he must die; and yet that he must live forever: and although he has been told this from his infancy, yet it now strikes him with the force of a new idea. He looks round too upon the world, upon the universe that surrounds him, upon the works of nature, and especially upon himself, with an inquiring eye. He wonders at his own existence; and feels desires and apprehensions that were unknown to him before. To such a state of mind the language of the text seems peculiarly suitable: Thy hands have made me and fashioned me; give me understanding that I may learn thy commandments.” And well would it be if, instead of yielding to the doubts, and questionings, and vain speculations which so often 66 |