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                                   THE
                               LITTLE GIRL
                                 WHO WAS
                          TAUGHT BY EXPERIENCE.

                              [Illustration]

                                 BOSTON.
                BOWLES AND DEARBORN, 72 WASHINGTON STREET.

                     Isaac. R. Butts and Co. Printers.
                                   1827.




       District of Massachusetts, _to wit_:

                                          _District Clerk's Office._

Be it remembered, that on the nineteenth day of June, A.D. 1827, in the
fifty-first year of the Independence of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,
_Bowles and Dearborn_ of the said district, have deposited in this
office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors,
in the words following, _to wit_: "THE LITTLE GIRL, WHO WAS TAUGHT BY
EXPERIENCE."

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled,
"An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of
maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies,
during the times therein mentioned," and also to an act entitled "An act
supplementary to an act, entitled, an act for the encouragement of
learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books to the
authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein
mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing,
engraving and etching historical and other prints."

            JNO. W. DAVIS, _Clerk of the District of Massachusetts_.




                                   THE
                               LITTLE GIRL
                                 WHO WAS
                          TAUGHT BY EXPERIENCE.


Little Lucy's mother had died when she was a very small child;--this was
a great misfortune to Lucy, for her mother loved her very tenderly, and
she would have taken the trouble to tell her what she did wrong, and
when she _felt_ wrong, and would have taught her to correct all her
faults; she would have taught her that happiness could not dwell in her
heart, while she permitted wicked passions to rise up and grow strong
there, any more than the beautiful flowers which she planted in her
little garden-bed, could thrive and bloom when she allowed all the rank
weeds which sprang up with them, to become strong and remain there to
choke them: wicked passions like troublesome weeds, grow very fast, and
they soon root out all the mild, gentle virtues which are just budding
into beauty, if we do not take great pains to check them, and pluck them
out of our hearts.

Lucy's mother would have taught her all this, for she saw these evils
were already springing up to destroy the lovely blossom of virtue in her
young bosom; but she died, and Lucy was left to the care of a most
indulgent father; he did not like to correct his little girl, for he
only saw her when his busy day was over, and then he wished to gratify
all her desires, to fondle over her and play with her and bless her
while he thought of her dear mother whom he had lost; he did not see her
faults the little time he was with her, the servants did not like to
tell him of them, and poor Lucy was growing up a _vain_, selfish,
self-willed, prying little girl, with an obstinate temper which could
bear no contradiction.

Lucy had a _pretty face_ and her father and the servants talked to her
so much about it, that at last she really thought it was something good
in her to be pretty, that she was in some way better because she was
handsomer than other little girls; no kind friend ever said to Lucy,
"that as she had not made her own face, she could not be more good for
its being a pretty one; and that as she could not by any care keep it a
moment, if it should please her heavenly Father to take it away, that it
was very silly in her to be vain of it, and value it so much; but that
she could do a great deal, to make herself good, and amiable, and
obliging, and affectionate; and therefore she would be more dear to her
friends and more happy in herself every time she even tried to correct a
wrong feeling."

It was a _sad_ thing that Lucy had no one to teach her all these things,
for she might have learnt them easily then, and she was growing more
selfish, and vain, and obstinate, and disobedient as she grew older, she
thought a great deal about her dress, fine things to wear, and nice food
to eat, and she liked to pry into things which did not concern her to
know.

Lucy had an aunt living in Boston, who was a sensible and a very
kind-hearted woman. She heard that Lucy would become a disagreeable if
not a wicked child, if some friend did not have compassion and try to
save her from her growing faults. She kindly sent to Lucy's Father who
lived in New York, and persuaded him to let his daughter come and pass
one year with her; she had a little girl of her own about the same age
as Lucy, who had been watched, and guarded, and taught by this kind
mother, and she was now a lovely child, so good--obedient--and amiable,
that every one who knew her, saw that she would grow up a blessing to
her family and friends; her mother had early taught her, and made her
feel from experience, that she was always happier when she governed her
temper, corrected a fault, and thought more about making others happy
than she did of pleasing herself; she told her that her heavenly Father
always looked down with peculiar love upon her, when she resisted a
wicked feeling or a selfish action, and sent his _best_ and sweetest
reward of peace and joy into her heart, a reward he bestows only on
goodness, but which is more delightful than any pleasure which the
wicked can purchase. Now the little Emily had already learned to feel
this delightful peace, and she would give up any thing to obtain it.

It was on her birthday morning, about a month after Lucy's arrival at
her aunt's, that she received a very kind letter from her father
enclosing two beautiful crown pieces which he said "he thought would be
an acceptable present for herself and cousin, and he hoped this would
make his little darlings happy." Lucy _did_ feel happy for one moment,
and she looked at the pretty shining pieces again and again, then she
began to feel dissatisfied, and went slowly and with a sullen
countenance, into the parlour where Emily was finishing her work.

"My father has sent me these two crown pieces," said she, "but he says I
must give one of them to you, Emily, I'm sure I don't know what for;"
and Lucy looked unhappy, and selfish, and sour, because she could not
keep both the pieces which her father had sent, and no one who had seen
Lucy then would have thought she could ever have a pretty face; the
naughty temper in her heart, looked out at her eyes, her scowling brows,
and her pouting lips, and made her quite disagreeable, as she threw down
the piece of silver upon the table with a loud noise.

"Oh how good your dear father is," said Emily, "what a beautiful bright
piece it is--but do not give it to me, dear Lucy, if you don't wish to,"
continued she, as she looked up at Lucy's unhappy face, "I should like
to have it to be sure