Aunt Harding's Keepsakes / The Two Bibles
CHAPTER I: GUESSING
"Can you guess," said Louisa to her sister, as they sat at their work in the summer-house, "can you guess what aunt Harding will give us, as a keepsake, before she goes away?"
"No, I have not thought about it," said Emma; "and aunt has lately given us so many pretty things, that we can scarcely expect any more for a long time to come. There is my doll and its cradle, you know, and your baby-house and furniture, how much money they cost! No, I do not think aunt intends to give us anything else."
"But I am quite sure she will," replied Louisa; "for I was going past mamma's dressing-room this morning, when the door was a little way open, and I heard aunt Harding say, 'I should like to give the dear girls something really useful, which they may value as they grow older.' I did not hear anymore, because mamma has always told us it is not right to listen, and so I came away as fast as I could."
"Well, I wonder what the present will be?" said Emma, now quite convinced.
"What should you think of two handsome work-boxes—or, perhaps, as I am the eldest, of a work-box for yourself, and writing-desk for me?"
"That would be charming!" said Emma; "and I would let you use my work-box, and you could lend me your writing-desk sometimes."
"I will not make any promises," said Louisa; "you know you are very careless, and I should not like my nice new desk to be stained with ink, or, perhaps, scratched with the point of a pin."
"But mamma says I am growing more careful," said her sister; "and I do not think I am so heedless about other people's things, though I often spoil my own."
"Remember my wax doll," said Louisa, "which you left in the garden through that heavy shower of rain, so that I could never play with it again."
"O, that was such a very long time ago!" said Emma, looking a little vexed.
"Perhaps it will not be a writing-desk nor a work-box that aunt Harding will give us," said Louisa; "there are many other things which we should like. I wish she would ask us to choose."
"So do I," added Emma; "but there is nothing that I should like better than a work-box."
Louisa thought of many other things which she should be glad to have; for she was apt to indulge in a foolish habit of wishing for what she was not likely to possess. It is a bad thing to give way to this failing; for by doing so we may often make ourselves unhappy, without any good or real cause. People who do so should think of the words of St. Paul: "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." Philip. iv, 11. And children, who have kind parents or friends to provide for all their wants, should learn that it is very sinful to let the thoughts be often dwelling upon things that they cannot have, and do not really need. Pray for a grateful heart, that you may rejoice in the blessings that surround you, and be thankful to your heavenly Father, who gives you all things richly to enjoy.
CHAPTER II: THE PRESENTS
Mrs. Harding, the aunt of these little girls, had been paying a farewell visit to their mamma, before going with Mr. Harding to India, where it was likely that they would remain for some years. She had kindly given many little presents to her nieces during her stay with them; but they were such as Louisa and Emma would cease to value when they became old enough to "put away childish things;" and being a person of piety and judgment, she wished her last gift to be one which might be worthy of their regard in youth and in age, and through all the changes of life. It did not take any long time to determine what this parting gift should be.
The evening before she went away, she called Louisa and Emma into the room. They both looked round upon the table and chests of drawers, but no sign of a present was to be seen; no parcel neatly wrapped up in brown paper, nor anything like a work-box or a desk. But, to do them justice, the thought of what they might receive was not then uppermost in their mind; for their heart was full of grief at the prospect of parting with their aunt, whom they dearly loved, and who was going so very far away.
"Sit down beside me, dear children," said their aunt Harding, "and let us have a little talk together, quietly by ourselves. I wish to give you a few parting words of advice. I am sure that you will not forget me when I am gone; and when you think of me, I hope that the good things which I have tried to teach you will also come into your mind."
Both Louisa and Emma said, again and again, that they could never forget her, and they promised to remember her advice.
"Your mamma will often write to me concerning you," said aunt Harding, "and I cannot express the joy that it will afford me to hear that you are learning to hate sin more and more, and to live like children of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I shall be glad to find that you are improving in your studies, and I hope that every letter will bring me an account of your progress in useful knowledge; but I shall be far more anxious to hear of your being good and dutiful to your parents; and, above all, I shall long to know if you seek in earnest for the pardon of your sins, through the blood of Christ, and whether there is any proof in your conduct that your evil hearts have been changed by the grace of the Holy Spirit."
"If mamma sends you a good account of us," said Louisa, "please to remember, aunt, that you promised to write to us when that was the case. And you will write to me first, because I am the eldest, you know."
"Since you claim to be thought of first," replied her aunt, "because you are a year older then your sister, I hope you intend to take the lead by setting before her a good example, that it may be well for her to imitate you in every respect."
Louisa blushed, and was silent. "We will try our very best, dear aunt," said Emma, "that mamma may send you good news, and then you will write to us both. And, perhaps, before you come back, we shall be grown such good girls, that you will not be able to find fault with either of us."
"I am afraid that is not very likely," said Louisa; "for it seems as if we could not help being naughty sometimes. I am sure I have often said to myself, 'Mamma shall not have to reprove me once to-day,' and yet, directly after, something has been amiss."
"O! that is quite true," said Emma, with a sigh.
"The reason is this," their aunt replied; "you were born with an evil nature, which loves sin and leads you to do wrong, so that you cannot be good and dutiful of yourselves. When you have made such resolves, it has been in your own strength, without your having asked for help from God; and this being the case, it was not possible that you should keep from sin. The only way to lead a holy life is to put no trust in ourselves, to have a constant sense of our need of divine grace, and to pray earnestly that it may be given to us for Christ's sake."
"But you talk of my return," added she, "as if it were certain that we should meet again; yet how many things may happen to prevent it! Nothing can be more uncertain than the future, though young people are apt to think that all will fall out just as they wish. I may not live to come back; or if I should be spared to do so, who can tell that you will be here to meet me? Long before that time you may be laid low in the narrow grave. 'For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.' James iv, 14."
Before their aunt Harding had done speaking, both the children were in tears; for the thought that they might never see her again was more than they could bear. Seeing that their hearts were softened to receive the word of instruction, she went on to talk to them in a kind and earnest manner on the great importance of preparing for another world, showing them their awful state without the Saviour, and urging them to seek him at once by faith and prayer; then, further to impress her advice upon their minds, she unlocked
