Brite sae sigh
LITTLE FANNY'S JOURNAL:
MY OWN CHILD'S BOOK.
BY THE LATE
M. FRASER TYTLER,
AUTHOR OF â€œ THE WONDER-SEEKER, â€œTALES OF THE GREAT AND BRAVE,â€™
â€œ HYMNS AND SKETCHES IN VERSE, ETC. ETC.
W. P. KENNEDY, SOUTH ST. ANDREW STREET.
GLASGOW: D. BRYCE.
LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO.
DUBLIN: J. MSGLASHAN.
100 ST. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON,
TO MY DEAR LITTLE GIRLS
ALICE MARGARET, anp MARY SETON OGILVY.
Your much loved Mother wrote this little Book, in the
hope that, however feeble the attempt, it might be a means,
under God, of making you, as she said, true Christians.
She died, alas! two days after you, my poor Mary, saw
the light, and before she could dedicate it, as she intended,
to you both. I now do so, with the earnest prayers and
best blessing of your most affectionate Father,
â€”>-0 Â£- 96-30 â€”
Sea, AMMA hes told me to keep a jour-
Mwvele. nal whilst she is away, and to
write down all I do, and read,
and think. All I think! that would be a
terrible thing if Mamma is to see it all.
Could I stay in the room while she read it
from beginning to end? No, Iam sure I could
not. This is very strange. This cannot be
2 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
right. I should not like to stand before
Mamma while she reads my journal. And yet
I never remember, at least I never tremble
when I do remember, that God reads the whole
journal of my life,â€”of every moment of my
life, from beginning to end. I must think
more of this when I have said my prayers
to-night. And then to-morrow, when Mamma
is gone, I shall begin my journal.
That will be a very good plan, I think, for
to-morrow I shall be ten years old, and I
ought to begin to grow more and more good
than I have ever been before. But oh! how
can I do thatâ€”can I grow better all at once?
Mamma says, that if I try ever so much, I
cannot grow even one little bit better of
myself. Well, I shall pray a great deal to-
LITTLE FANNY'S JOURNAL. 3
night, and then if I ask God very often,
perhaps He will let me at least begin to grow
Mamma has gone away, and for a whole
month; how quiet and dull the house seems!
A whole month! will it ever pass away?
I cried a great deal that morning. I knew
I should, but I did not think Mamma would
cry so much. I do not like to see Mamma
cry forme. And Papa too looked very sorry.
Dear Papa! he told me he hoped I should try
to please them both while they are away.
I will now here begin my Journal.
4 LITTLE FANNY'S JOURNAL.
At half-past eleven Papa and Mamma drove
away from the door, and I came all alone to
The text Mamma told me to look for to-
night, and think of every morning, was Genesis
thirty-first chapter, and forty-ninth verse.
I had not patience to wait for night to see
what it was, so I looked immediately. Dear
Mamma, how good in her to think of that text
for me! Yes, indeed, I will think of it every
morning and every night, and will pray to
God to hear it twenty times in the day, till
my own darling Mamma comes back again.
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 5
Yesterday was a holiday, and yet I was
not at all happy. I suppose if Papa and
Mamma had been at home, I should have been
I am afraid I was discontented; and to be
discontented, Mamma says, is to be ungrateful.
I did not want to be ungrateful, yet I felt
cross and angry, and could do nothing but
wish all day that Papa and Mamma had not
I knew it was of no use, still [ could not
help it; so this is all. I have made my great
resolve to begin to grow good. And now I
have had to write all this down, and Mamma
will see it when she comes home.
6 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
What can I do to cure myself of the great
fault? I think Miss Hayward took a very good
way indeed to cure me. First, she tried to
comfort me, then to reason with me, then to
scold me, and at last she took me upon her
knee, and read a fairy tale to me. Such a
very pretty one! I do not always like fairy
tales, but I liked this one so much, that I am
going to write it all down in my Journal; and
then, when I feel inclined to be discontented
and ungrateful, [ shall come and read it over
again, for I should not like to be as wicked as
the two silly fish, and I will try very hard to
grow good and wise like the pretty little silver
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 7
THE STORY OF THE THREE FISH.
(COPIED FROM A VERY OLD BOOK.)
At the foot of a very high hill there runs a
beautiful river, and in that river there lived
three silver trout, the prettiest little fish that
any one ever saw.
Now, you must know that there was a good
Genie who took care of them, and who let them
want for nothing that such little fish would
require. But two of them grew very sad and
discontented; and the one wished for one
thing, and the other wished for another thing,
and neither of them could take any pleasure
in what they had, because they were always
longing for something they had not.
8 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
All this was very naughty in those two
little trout; for the good Genie, as I have said,
had been exceedingly kind, and never grudged
them anything that was for their good. But
instead of thanking him for all his care and
kindness, they blamed him in their own minds,
for refusing them anything that their foolish
fancies were set upon. In short, there was
no end to all they wished, and longed, and
quarrelled for in their hearts.
At last the Genie was so angry that he deter-
mined, by punishing their naughtiness, to make
the folly of these two little trout an example to
all the foolish fish in the world. And for this
purpose he told them that each should be
allowed to have whatever they wished for.
Now, the eldest trout was a very proud little
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. i)
fish, and wanted to be above all the other little
fish in the world. So he said, I must tell
your highness, that I do not at all like the
way in which you have placed me. I have
been put into a poor, narrow, troublesome
river, with very little room on the right side,
or on the left. I can neither get down into
the ground, nor up into the air, nor go any
where, nor do any one thing I should like to
I am not so blind though, but that I can
see very well how kindly others have been
treated. There are your favourite little birds.
who fly here and there, and all about, and
mount up to the very heavens, and do what-
ever they please. They have every thing at
their command, because you have given them
10 LITTLE FANNY 'S JOURNAL.
wings; give me also such wings as you have
given to them, and then I shall have something
to thank you for.
He had no sooner said this, than he felt the
wings he wished for growing on either side,
and in a minute, spreading them abroad, he
rose out of the water.
At first he found great pleasure in being
able to fly, for he rose high into the air, above
the very clouds, and then looked down in
scorn on all the fish in the world.
Having determined to travel, and to amuse
himself by seeing distant countries, he flew
over rivers, and meadows, and woods, and
mountains, till at last, growing faint with hun-
ger and thirst, his wings began to fail him,
and he thought it best to come down to get
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 11
The foolish little trout did not remember
that he was now in a strange land, and far, far
away from the pretty river where he had been
born and bred. So, when he came down, it
chanced to be among dry sand and rocks,
where there was not a bit to eat, nor a drop of
water to drink; and there he lay faint, and
tired, and unable to rise, gasping, and flutter-
ing, and beating himself against the stones,
till at length he died in great pain and misery.
Now, the second silver trout was not so
proud or high-minded as the first, but he had
a very cold, very unkind heart, and was such
a selfish little trout, that if he himself were
well and happy, he did not care at all what
became of all the other fish in the world. So,
he said, May it please your honour, I donâ€™t
12 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
wish, not I, for wings to fly out of the water,
and to wander into strange places, where I
do not know what may become of me. |
I lived happily enough here till the other
day, when, as I got under a cool bank to hide
me from the heat of the sun, I saw a great rope
come down into the water, and it fastened
itself, I donâ€™t know how, about the gills of a
little fish that was basking near me, so that
he was lifted out of the water struggling and
in great pain, till he was carried, I know not
where quite out of my sight.
Then I thought, in my own mind, this evil
may some time or other happen to myself,
and my heart trembled within me, and I have
been very sad and discontented ever since.
Now, all I desire of you is, that you will
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 13
tell me the meaning of this, and of all the
other dangers with which you have surrounded
the poor little fish, for then I have sense
enough to take care of my own safety; and
I am very well able to provide for my own
living too, there is no fear of that.
This wish was no sooner spoken than granted,
for the Genie opened his understanding, and
immediately he knew the meaning of snares,
nets, hooks, lines, and all other dangers to
which little trouts are subject.
At first he was greatly rejoiced in this his
knowledge, and said to himself,â€”Now, surely
I shall be the happiest of all fish, for as I
understand, and am warned of every mischief
that can come near us, I am sure I love myself
too well not to keep out of harmâ€™s way.
14 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
From this time he took care never to go
into any deep hole, for fear that a pike, or
some other huge fish, might be there, who would
think nothing of swallowing him up at a
Then he kept carefully from all shallow
places, particularly in hot weather, in case the
sun should dry them up, and not leave him
water enough to swim away in; and, when he
saw a fly skimming in the water, or a worm
coming down the stream, however hungry he
might be, he did not dare to bite. No, no,
my honest friends, he would say, Iam not so
foolish as that comes to; go your ways, and
tempt those who know no better, and cannot
see, as I do, that you swim, perhaps, only to
hide some hideous hook
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 15
In this way the over-careful trout kept
himself in continual fear, and could neither
eat, drink, nor sleep in peace, lest some mischief
should be near, so that he grew thinner and
thinner, and sadder and sadder every day, for
he pined away with hunger, till wasted almost
to skin and bone with care and melancholy ;
at last he died, from the fear of dyingâ€”the
most miserable death in the world.
Now, when the Genie came to the youngest
silver trout, and asked what he wished for,
Alas! said the dear little thing, you know, may
it please your greatness, | am avery silly and
good-for-nothing little fish, and I do not know,
not I, what is good for me, and what is bad
for me; and I wonder how I came to be worth
16 LITTLE FANNY 'S JOURNAL.
bringing into the world, or what you can see
in me, to take any thought about.
But, if I must wish for something, it is this,
that you will do with me whatever you think
best; and that I may be pleased to live or
die even just as you would have me.
Now, as soon as the prayer had been made
in the trusting and humble little heart of the
trout, the Genie took such a liking and great
love for him, as had never been known before;
and he found in his own heart that he could not
but take care of one who had trusted himself
so wholly to his love and good pleasure. And
from that time the good Genie went whereso-
ever he went, and was always with him and
about him, and was to him as a father, and
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 17
friend, and companion. And he put content-
ment into his mind, and joy into his heart; so
this little trout slept always in peace, and
wakened in gladness; and whether he was full
or hungry, or whatever happened to him, he
was still pleased and thankful, and he was
the happiest of all fish that ever swam in any
I am quite sure that last night Miss Hay-
ward had been looking out, and thinking what
would be the very best thing for her to read
to me before going to bed. For though she
did not say anything about it, I know she was
18 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
still thinking of how naughty I had been the
day Papa and Mamma went away. And I
knew by her voice that there was one part she
wished me most of all to listen to. I think I
remember nearly every word exactly as it
came. I will try.
â€œWhen shall we learn that it is God alone
who really knows what is best for His people;
and that in all things the safest way for us is
to put a blank page into His hands, that He
may write in it what He will.â€ Miss Hayward
is very kind to me. I do think, that next to
Papa and Mamma, she is the most anxious in
all the world to make me good, and to cure
me of all my faults. She never allows even
one little thing to pass, but seems always on
the watch, more than I like sometimes, I am
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 19
afraid; and then | get angry at the very things
I know I ought to be obliged to her for; and
in my very heart I think her unjust, and cross,
and cruel; though I know very well she is none
of these. This does not look as if I had a kind
heart ; and yet she sometimes says I have. It is
very easy to be sometimes kind, but very difficult
to be always kind. This must be what Mamma
means, when she says so often, that the heart
is naturally wicked. I remember a story of a
good clergyman, who, when he was going out to
India to teach the poor heathen that they must
not bow down, and worship gods made of wood,
and stone, and gold, and silver, but must pray
only to the real true God of heaven, he went
for the last time to see all the little children
he had taught at his Sunday school, and told
20 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
them that his last wish was, that each should
give him a promise, every day to pray one
little prayer of some words. It was, â€œ Lord,
change my heart!â€ I will make that my
prayer. I will pray it over and over again,
till God hears it. Lord God, hear it now. Oh!
Lord God, change my heart. Lord God, come
quickly, and change my heart. Oh! Christ
Jesus, change the heart of thy little child.
I have got the most delightful, the most
extraordinary adventure to write in my Jour-
nal. I never thought any thing so delightful
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 21
could happen, almost as if on purpose for
me to astonish Mamma with. I wish she
had been here; that would have been much
better, better even than having it to write.
Miss Hayward says she awoke twice in the
night, laughing at the thoughts of it. I think
I must have laughed too, in my sleep; at least
I can hardly keep from laughing, now that I
Well, Mamma, here is our adventure. After .
tea Miss Hayward said we should go into the
drawing-room for another music lesson; be-
cause I want so much to be able to play my
new duet quite well when you come home; and
we were sitting very quietly together, think-
ing of nothing but our own music, when we
heard some soft low pretty music at the win-
22 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
dow. I thought the little German boy had
come back, and wondered how he came in the
dark; so I jumped up to see, but no one was
there, and the music had stopped. I listened a
little, then went back to the piano, and began
again; but in a very few minutes the music
began too. The sound came strongly from the
window, and this time Miss Hayward and I ran
to see what it was; it did not stop now, but
sounded soft and low, and pretty, exactly like
the pretty AXolian Harp you took me to hear at
Mr. Greyâ€™s house. We put our heads close to
the glass, and looked out into the darkness,
but nothing was to be seen, and all at once
the music grew so loud and shrill, that we
jumped over sofa and all into the very middle
of the room. I think we were both half
LITTLE FANNY S JOURNAL. 23
frightened ; but well we might be, for louder and
louder still it grew, then slowly it sunk into
the low pretty sound we had heard at first.
Now it seemed to come from the ceiling, now
from the lowest pane in the window; now it
would stop altogether, and now again it rose so
loud and shrill, that I can assure you, Mamma,
the whole large window shook with it, and
even the bars in the balcony above seemed to
give a ringing sound as if they were tremb-
We had rung for Scott, and he had gone out
all round the house, but nothing was to be
seen anywhere, and by this time every servant
was standing in the drawing-room.
I think Miss Hayward was the only one who
was not frightened. She was determined, she
24 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
said, to go out herself and see what it could
be, for she felt sure there must be some trick.
Scott did not seem very willing to go with
her, so she took William too, and then I thought
it was foolish to be frightened if she was not,
so I took up a candle and ran after them.
And this was the very way it was all found
out, for whilst the others were looking all
round about, I put my candle close to the
window, and saw a little snail with a pretty
shell; there was no music at the time to startle
me, so I took it off to look at it, and that mo-
ment there was a long, loud note, like those
we had heard. Miss Hayward ran up in a
minute, and when I had told her what I had
done, she took the candle from me, and, look-
ing all over the window, found two more very
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 25
large snails. Scott wanted to take them off,
but she forbade him to touch them. Then,
while we stood quite still, she shaded the can-
dle with her hand, and when, in a very few
minutes, the snails began to crawl again, all
the strange, wild-sounding music was heard
We watched them a long, long time, and
when they crawled quite in the middle of the
large pane they made the soft, low music we
had thought so pretty at first. But as they
came near to the edge it grew louder and
shriller, till we were nearly obliged to run away
from the great noise.
I wish, Mamma, you could have seen Ellen
and all the other servants, when I ran in to
26 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
tell them that all this disturbance had been
made by three poor snails.
Ido not think that in all the Wonder-Seeker,
there is nearly so wonderful a discovery as
this. I have a great mind to begin being a
Wonder-Seeker myself. I will be Charles
Douglas, and ask Miss Hayward to be Mr.
Stanley; that will be delightful.
Miss Hayward took me this morning up to
the top of Craig Dhu, to see the sun rise.
How lovely it was, and how beautiful the
whole world seemed!
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 27
It was still nearly quite dark when we set
out, for we had a long way to go. We did very
well, however, while we kept to the little path
through the wood; but whenever we got on
the moor, down we went into many a hole.
Sometimes Miss Hayward tumbled over a bush,
and sometimes I tumbled into one; and we
were almost afraid that the sun would have
risen, before we could reach the top of the hill.
However, up we got at last, and quite in
good time: the mist lay all round us, and
above and below, skimming along the hills like
lovely soft clouds. Then came the first little
red tinge of sunshine, and higher, and redder,
and brighter he grew; lighting up one hill and
then another, till the whole beautiful earth
28 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
seemed shining in the brightest, loveliest
It made me think of papaâ€™s favourite verse.
I am sure he would have thought of it too,
if he had been there.
â€œ QO God! O Good beyond compare!
If thus thy meaner works are fair,
If thus thy mercies gild the span
Of ruinâ€™d earth and sinful man,
How glorious must the mansions be
Where thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee! â€
When we came home, poor Miss Hayward
found the letter she had been longing for so
much; but it was a sad letter to her, for it told
of her sister being very ill, a great deal worse
than she thought she was. Poor Mrs. Lindsey,
LITTLE FANNY 'S JOURNAL. 29
she has got three little children; what will
become of them, if God takes her away, and
leaves them without a mamma? Oh! kind
and good God, do not take their mamma from
them. They have got no papa; and if you
will to take away my mamma and papa, I
have no one left to teach me to love thee. If
it be thy will, then, oh God, do not take their
This is Sunday, so I must not write in my
journal, except to say that Miss Hayward
and I are going to walk to church.
30 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
We shall go to our little church here, at the
very same hour, the very same minute, that
Papa and Mamma are going to some large
church in London. And I shall pray for Papa
and Mamma; and they, I know, will pray for
me, and then.â€”But nurse says it is time to
get ready. God bless you, dear Mamma. God
bless you, dear Papa. I must go
I tried to do all my lessons to-day as well
as I could.
Miss Hayward had no letter; perhaps that
is because her sister is better. Poor Miss
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 3
Hayward had no letter from her sister, but I
had a long, delightful one from my dear
Mamma; and she tells me such good news.
The ship has arrived from India, and Amy is
on board. Poor dear little Amy, who has left
her papa and mamma in India. But this is
not the good news; the great good news is,
that instead of Amy going to live with her
aunt, and my aunt, in London, as we thought
she was, she is to come and live always with us.
How many and many a time I have wished
that I had a little sister, and now Amy
will be my sister. I am glad that she is so
much younger than I am, because I can be
more kind to her, and take more care of her.
I will ask Mamma to let me be Amyâ€™s Mamma,
as well as her sister.
32 LITTLE FANNYâ€™'S JOURNAL.
Now, indeed, I see how true a thing it was
that Miss Hayward read to me; for though I did
not put a blank page into Godâ€™s hands, he was
so kind as to take it, even though I did not
wish him to do so; and he sent Papa and
Mamma to London, when I would have kept
them at home; and allowed them to arrive at
the right minute to get the new little sister,
to bring back with them again.
Six whole days, and nearly the seventh, has
passed away of the month, and it has not |
seemed nearly so long as I thought it would.
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 33
Miss Hayward has had bad, bad news to-
day. Mrs. Lindsey is much worse. Miss
Gordon, who lives with them, writes, that the
doctors have no hopes, and that every one
thinks she will never get well.
I cannot write anything to-day in my jour-
nal; my heart feels quite sick with sorrow for
poor Miss Hayward; and yet, if God really has
written down in His book that Mrs. Lindsey is
to die, perhaps he has written down too, to send
some very kind friend, to take care of her poor
little boys and girls; for He says, â€œ Leave thy
fatherless children, I will keep them alive.â€
34 LITTLE FANNY 'S JOURNAL.
Miss Hayward has had no account of her
sister to-day. She says she is trying to pre-
pare her heart for whatever God may send.
It must be very difficult to prepare the heart
for the death of a sister.
I am sure Mamma would not wish Miss
Hayward to be troubled with me to-day; so I
have promised to do all my lessons as well as
I can, by myself, then dear Hasie (I like
to call her Hasie, and so does she) can go out
and walk, and can pray much better in her
own heart out in the clear woods, than shut
up in the school-room with me.
To-morrow, perhaps, I may hear again from
Mamma, and hear more about Amy. Mr.
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 35
Stanhope called to-day, to enquire about Papa
and Mamma; and he told me a story that I
am sure dear little Amy will like. I mean to
have a great many stories ready for her; for I
used to like so very much, and [I still like so
much, to sit and listen to them myself, that I
am sure she will too. This is a very good one
to begin with, for Mr. Stanhope told me it was
quite true, and that it happened to his great,
great, I donâ€™t know how many great, great
grandfathers he said, but it was a long time
ago, and had been handed down, he told me,
from father to son.
This old Mr. Stanhope, then, went with
a number of people to the Tower, in Lon-
don, where the wild beasts were kept; and,
among others, he saw a great big lion, who,
36 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
because he was so large and so beautiful, was
called the Kingâ€™s Lion.
He was walking up and down his cage, with
a very proud step, as if he knew that everybody
had come to look at and admire him; while
backwards and forwards ran a pretty little
black Spaniel, who jumped and frisked about,
and sometimes even would pretend to bite and
snarl at him; but all the time they were in
reality very good friends, and the great Lion
would put down his huge head, and let the
little thing spring about it. Sometimes he
seemed to kiss his great eyes ; sometimes as if
he was going almost to jump into his great
mouth; and sometimes he would lie down
_ quite contentedly between his huge paws.
This astonished every body very much, and
LITTLE. FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 37
the keeperâ€”I do not like the keeper, for I think
he must have been a very cruel manâ€”said that ~
often when people could not pay a sixpence to
get in, he allowed them to come if they brought
with them a dog, or, cat, or any other poor
little animal, to throw into the cage of the
kingâ€™s lion. | :
One day a man brought in this pretty black
spaniel, that he had found wandering about
the street without any master; and it was put
into the cage, but no sooner did the poor little
thing see the fierce eyes of the Lion glaring
upon him, than he trembled and shivered
First, he crouched into a corner, then threw
himself upon his back, and holding up his four
38 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
little paws in the air, seemed asking and
praying for mercy.
In the mean time, the lordly brute, as Mr.
Stanhope called the Lion, instead of eating
him up as he had done so many others, looked
kindly down on the poor little trembling
thing; then turned him gently over, first
with one paw and then with the other, and at
last went as far away as his cage would let
him, as if wishing to show the little dog that
he would not hurt him, and that he wished
him to take courage, and look about his new
house, and make acquaintance with his new
The keeper, seeing this, brought a large mess
of his own dinner, and put it into the cage,
â€œql a) Hh
HNL wy iyi ila
wl alll iy fl hi !
at Mt fl = i
i hd) Hh
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 39
but still the Lion did not move, and the
Spaniel, being, I suppose, very hungry, and
growing at last very brave, crept up to the
dish and began to makea hearty meal. When _
the Lion saw this he came slowly forward, but
so gently that the little dog did not seem at
all afraid, and bending down to the same dish,
they finished their meal very lovingly to-
From this time the keeper said they had
become the greatest friends. The Lion seemed
well to know that he had power to protect and
guard his little favourite, and the Spaniel
knew he had the power and the will too, and
loved and trusted him so much, that he would
lie down to sleep within the fangs, and under
the jaws of his terrible friend.
40 LITTLE FANNY 'S JOURNAL.
Some time after this the gentleman who had
lost the Spaniel, heard of what had happened,
and went to the Tower to claim his dog.
â€œBut,â€ said the keeper, laughing at the
disappointment of the poor man, â€œI told him
it would, I thought, be a great pity to part
such loving friends, and that since he was
determined to do so, he must part them him-
self, for that I would not for five hundred
The gentleman was very angry, but fortu-
nately he was obliged to leave the little dog
in the cage, for he did not dare to go near to
entice it out. |
But now comes the sorrowful part of my
story. When Mr. Stanhope went back to the
Tower about a year after, he found that the
LITTLE FANNY 'S JOURNAL. 41
little Dog, after a very long illness, had died,
and left the poor Lion without a friend or
companion in the world, or rather in his cage,
which was all the world to him. For a long
time he seemed to think his little favourite
was asleep, and he tried to stir him with his
nose, and turn him over with his paw, but
finding that he could not awaken him, he
walked up and down his cage from end to end
with a quick uneasy pace. Then would stop
to look down with a sorrowful look, and again
lift his head with a loud terrible roar, that
sounded, Mr. Stanhope said, like loud distant
thunder, and lasted two or three minutes at a
They tried to take the poor little dead dog
away, in the hope that then he would forget
42 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
his grief, but that was impossible, for he
watched it at every moment, and would suffer
no one to come near.
Every sort of food was brought by the
keeper to try and tempt him to eat, but he
turned away from all. Then they put other
dogs into his cage, and he tore them to pieces
in a moment.
He had always been tame and gentle before,
but now became so savage, that he tore up the
boards of his cage, and, seizing on the bars,
- seemed as if he would have burst them to
pieces. Tired at last with his useless rage, he
would stretch himself upon the ground, by
the side of his little play-fellow, and, gathering
him up in his paws, lay him in his bosom.
For five whole days he never tasted any
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 43
food, but grew weaker every day, and at last
was one morning found dead, with his head
resting on the body of his little friend. They
were buried in the same grave. And though
T have said the keeper was a cruel man, I do
not think he could always have been cruel, for
he ended his story, by saying to Mr. Stanhope,
â€œT can tell you, sir, I watered their grave well
with my tears.â€ |
No letter from Mamma; but Miss Hayward
had better accounts of her sister,â€”much bet-
ter. She says she is afraid yet to hope, but
44 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
when the doctors tell her she is a great deal
better, surely it must be true.
I could not sleep last night when I went to
bed, partly because I was thinking so much of
dear little Amy, partly of poor Mrs, Lindsey ;
and then came other thoughts that kept me
I tried to make a little prayer for Amy to
say, but I did not succeed in that. So then I
tried to make a hymn for her, and put in some
of the things Aunt Alice has told mamma
~ about her in her letters.
I am going to write it down here for Mamma
to see, but as it is only the second hymn I
ever tried in my life, I hope she. will not
expect it to be very good. Dear little Amy is
five years old now, but I was obliged to make
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 45
the hymn for two years ago, that I might say
she was only three, for I thought a great long
time, but could not find any word except
speak that would rhyme well to weak.
Iâ€™m very little, young, and weak,
Iâ€™m only three years old to-day,
But though I hardly yet can speak,
Mamma has taught me how to pray.
And I can clasp my little hands,
And raise my eyes, and bend my knee,
And say my pretty prayers to God, |
Who is so very good to me.
I have been very ill in bed,
I broke my little arm you see ;
But then I said my prayers to God,
And he has made it well for me.
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
Papa, Mamma, and I were tost
Upon a wild and angry sea ;
Our pretty ship was almost lost,
But God took care of them and me.
My pony kicked and shook her head,
And frightened me so much one day ;
But I quickly said my prayer to God,
And that took all my fear away.
IT think perhaps youâ€™d like to know
The pretty prayer Iâ€™ve learned to say,
"Tis, â€œ* Love a little child, dear Lord,
Bless her, and keep her, night and day.â€
104 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
Dear Amy, I think it is she who will have to
teach me to be obedient, though J do not think
that Mamma exactly meant that she was to eat
Miss Hayward is nearly well to-day. The
first thing she said to me when [ saw her this
morning was, that she had that moment been
reading a proof of obedience, that surpassed
Amy and the fly, and as I did not grudge
sometimes giving a few minutes more to my
lessons when she wished it, she would not
grudge allowing me a few then to read it
to her, and so I did; and now, as Miss Hay-
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 105
ward says she must send the book away before
you come back, | am going to copy it for you,
Mamma, for I do think you will say it is very
wonderful. It is written in the Life of a Mr.
Collins, who used to paint beautiful pictures.
His very best sitter, they say, was a dog of his
own, called Prinny. His master used to place
him in any position he wished to draw, and he
never moved from it, until a sign was given
to show that he might do so. One day Mr.
Collins had placed him on the backs of two
chairs, his fore legs on the rails of one, and
his hind legs on the rails of the other. In this
very uncomfortable position he painted him
for some time, till he was told that a friend
waited upon him in another room.
He was in such a hurry to see this visitor
106 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
that he ran in great haste, quite forgetting
to give the sign to Prinny that he might sit
He remained away for a whole half hour;
and, when he came back, the first thing he saw
was poor dear Prinny still in the same atti-
tude, though,â€”but I will copy the rest from
the book: â€˜â€œ He was trembling from fatigue,
and occasionally venting his anguish and dis-
tress in a low piteous moan, but not moving a
limb, or venturing even to turn his head. Not
having received the usual signal, he had never
once attempted to get down, but remained sit-
ting (standing, I think, they should have said),
for his picture, with nobody to paint him, dur-
ing the long half hour his master had been
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 49
mistake when we desire God to hear those
prayers, a great part whereof we do not hear
â€”+ EoÂ» 2
Another long letter from dear Mamma, and
she tells me a great deal that is delightful
about herself, and about Papa, and about
Amy. She laughed very much, though, at
me for expecting to be Amyâ€™s Mamma. She
says, I am still in leading-strings myself,
and how can I be wise enough to lead about
But I will prove to Mamma that little things
can be of a great deal of use sometimes. Even
50 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
little black beetles can be of use, and some day
or other, perhaps, I may be little Amyâ€™s black
beetle; now, Mamma, here is the proof.
There was once a prince who was so much
displeased with one of his nobles, that he de-
termined to punish him, and commanded that
he should be shut into a very high tower,
which had only one entrance, and that was
built close up as soon as the nobleman had
been put in.
The only thing the tower contained was a
long staircase, that reached to the top, and
the gentleman, climbing up, could look a far
way over the country, and could see the woods
and fields, and the happy people who were at
liberty to walk about and go where they liked;
but all this only made him more sad, for
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 51
there seemed no chance of escape left, and no
hope but that he must stay there and die of
hunger. , :
After some hours, his poor wife came wan-
dering about the tower, that she might see
her husband, though only in the distance; but
finding, at last, that no one was near, she
ventured to go closer up to the wall, and ask
if there was nothing she could do to serve
â€œOh yes,â€ he said, â€œyou can do a great
deal. Go and get me a black beetle, a little
grease, a skein of silk, a skein of twine, and a
His wife flew to obey him. She might
perhaps have wondered very much what he
would want to do with these things, since she
52 LITTLE FANNY'S JOURNAL.
had no means of giving them to him; but she
did not stop even to think. One after another
she searched for and found, then, quite out of
breath, returned to the tower.
â€˜â€˜ Put some of the grease,â€ said her husband,
â€˜â€œâ€˜on the head of the beetle; fasten the silk to
its hind leg; then tie the twine to the silk,
and the rope to the twine; and, last of all,
place the beetle on the wall of the tower.â€
As soon as he found himself at liberty, the
beetle, smelling the grease on his head above
him, and not being-able to find out where it
was, crept higher and higher in search of it,
till at last it reached the top.
In great delight, the nobleman caught it,
took the silk from its hind leg, carefully drew
it up till he came to the twine; then, more
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 53
carefully, he drew that up too, and when,
having at last reached the rope, when night
came on, he fastened it strongly to a ring in
the wall, let himself down, and made his
All this was done by a little black beetle.
And as I.am bigger than a great many black
beetles, though, perhaps, as yet at least, I may
not be much wiser even than one, I hope, dear
Mamma, you will still let me be Amyâ€™s mamma,
for I want to try to do all the good for her
that I can; and, besides,â€”yes, this is a very
lucky thought,â€”it is very likely that in trying
to make her good, I may grow better myself,
54 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
This is Sunday, the second Sunday since
Papa and Mamma went away. We went to
church in the morning, and to-night Miss
Hayward and [I sat so long by the dear old fir
tree, repeating hymns to each other, that
now I have only a very few moments to write
in my Journal, before Ellen comes: and when
she does, I must go off to bed at once. I do
not forget that, Mamma, you see, though
you are not here. I remember very well, all
your loving lectures, or your good advice, or
whatever I should call it, about dawdling,
losing Ellenâ€™s time and my own, and not
getting into bed at a regular time.
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 55
Miss Hayward had very good news to-day;
and yesterday too, it was much better, though
I am afraid I forgot to mention it in my
Mrs. Lindsey is said to be quite out of
danger. What a happy day for dear Hasie, and
how happy she looked,â€”happy even while the
tears were streaming down her cheeks, for she
cried more this morning from joy, than she
had done all the day before from sorrow.
I asked her how she was, and she gave me,
I think, a strange answer. She had felt, she
said, that she deserved punishment, and there-
fore was afraid to murmur, or even to ask God
to turn it from her; but that she knew that
she was not worthy of the great mercy He
had shown her, and feared so much that she
56 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
never could feel grateful enough, that her
heart seemed to grow more full, if not more
heavy than it had been before.
Still better accounts of Mrs. Lindsey. I
did all my lessons to-day with great glee;
what a happy thing it is to feel happy! Not-
withstanding all Mammaâ€™s letters, and all about
Amy, and every thing happening as I want,
the last few days have been very different
from this one. Dear, dear, dear Hasie, I feel
as if I could jump up to the very top of the
house, and down again, but I must not try that
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 57
yet, because I have a great deal to write, and |
to copy into my Journal.
After we had finished all our lessons to-day,
and were going out to take a long walk to get
rid, Miss Hayward said, of some of my trouble-
some spirits, down came such torrents of rain,
that Ellen, and Jane, and nurse, and Mary
went flying from one window to another to
get them all shut. And the stupid little
waterfall, which is generally without any water |
at all, in less than an hour was rushing along
in a broad sheet of foam.
There was no hope of a walk for us, and I
was thinking what I should like best to do,
when Miss Hayward asked if I would help
her. Some of the verses she had read in the
Psalms this morning, she said, seemed so full
58 LITTLE FANNY'S JOURNAL.
prayer of and praise, that she felt they were
- the only words that could tell half of what she
wished and longed to say, and that she would
have liked so much to show them to her little
nephews and niece, that she might put it into
their hearts to use them, and make their lively |
voices again and again repeat them to the
God who had saved them from being orphans.
Then she said, I have been thinking so
much of all this, Fanny, that I felt my thoughts
were wandering far more than yours to-day at
your lessons. And in my own mind I had
nearly made out all the scene, and as I fancied
it might have happened, when the poor children
were first told, that through Godâ€™s mercy their
mother might still be left to them.
I have written down the first part, she went
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. | 59
on, and you can, if you like, help me with the
rest, for we can try to remember, or together
look for verses that will suit.
So she read to me all that she had written,
and then we set to work, and when we had
finished, I asked her, and she allowed me to
copy it in here, to show to you, Mamma.
A darkened room. Three children, Atick, CHaruzs, and
Weep not, dear brothers, for these floods of tears
May be offensive in the sight of God;
Weep not, he will not lay us on the earth,
Not leave us orphaned in our infant years,
Not take at once, instructor, parent, guide.
What though all hope from man seems desperate now,
60 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
Godâ€™s power is mighty, and his mercy great,
The holy Psalmist, in his holy book
Says â€œ Help me, Lord, in thee my trust is sure.â€
- This was beliefâ€”Oh, may we thus believe ;
And then again in agony he cries,
â€œ Lord, I am desolate, be thou my stay,
The troubles of my heart have been enlarged,
_Oh! bring me out of my distress, and send,
My rock, my stay, my fortress, my defence,
Speedy deliverance for thy merciesâ€™ sake.â€
We are oâ€™erwhelmed, Lord, are bowed down,
- Thy hand can save us, and thy hand alone,
Then, hear us prayâ€”Pray ? we, alas! but weep;
How shall we pray? Where is our gentle friend ?
Were she but here, her faithful memory,
Aiding and strengthening ours, might lead our hearts
To plead in words, from Godâ€™s own holy book.
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 61
See even now she comes, and, oh! her brow
Is not so clouded as an hour ago ;
God has been merciful.
Yes, dearest children, yes, bow down to earth,
Thanking the Lord for hopes so kindly sent ;
His hand is everywhere, and he has stayed
Somewhat the progress of the dread disease,
And through his mercy yet, dear children, you
May bless the Hand that has raised up from death
Your gentle parent. Though all hope was past,
Though the grave yawned for her, he held her back ;
And he is powerful, and may grant her yet
Return of health. Pray then, my children, pray.
62 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
Best, tenderest, dearest, next to her the best,
For you have trained us in the paths of God ;
We have looked, longed for you, for in our grief
No promises of grace could we recall
Of all the many many that are writ
Within his book; but now a light has broke,
How full of mercy, on our sinking hearts,
And now with your kind aid we will give thanks,
And will to thanks add our most earnest prayers
For further mercies from his gracious hand.
Complete the work, my God, thou hast begun.
Oh! for a word, the single word of health
Uttered by thee, a look, a glance, a sign,
That â€˜tis thy will that she should be restored.
Kneel, kneel, my sister, let us kneel to God,
Our kind instructress, and our gentle friend,
Will lead the way, and then perhaps shall we
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 63
Remember words that David sung of yore,
When mingling prayer with praise.
Gladly, dear children, will I lend my aid,
Nor could you choose from out the Book of God
Words of more earnest, supplicating prayer,
Than those of David. As you wish it so,
I will pray firstâ€”then each of you in turn
Speak as your hearts may prompt.
â€˜â€˜The paths of God are merciful and true,
Wait on the Lord, take courage to your souls,
Wait on the Lord, and raise your hearts to him.â€
â€˜â€œ Kvening, and morning, and noon day I will cry
Unto the Lord of Hosts, and he will hear.â€
64 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
â€œ Lord, from thy blessed sanctuary send help,
Send strength from out the towers of Zion, Lord,
Be not far from us, trouble is so near,
Forsake us not, turn not thy face away,
Give us some help! Oh, tarry not, my God.â€
â€œ Lord, make the hearts thy hand has bowed down
To rise again, and sing aloud with joy ;
Make us to know of gladness and of mirth,
Send us the comfort of thy help again.â€
Â«â€œ Arise, and give us help, oh! Lord my God,
What time we are afraid, we call on thee,
For God hath spoken, yea, the Lord hath said,
That power belongs to God.â€
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 65
Oh, this is well,
â€˜Tis soothing thus to pray. But see, dear friend,
Where with sweet baby hands clasped fervently,
And streaming eyes, but silent still, and mute,
Dear Herbert kneels, not venturing to breathe
His prayers to heaven. Speak courage to him then,
Tell him that Jesus hears when infants pray.
I know, I know, but when I try to pray,
Although so kindly Iâ€™ve been taught, I've
Forgot all other words, save only these:
God spare Mamma. â€™
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. AT
A letter from Mamma at last, a very long
letter, so it quite makes up for my being
disappointed yesterday. She asks me a great
many questions that I am to answer, she says,
in my Journal.
Have I been good? I think, indeed I
am quite sure, I may say that I have at least
tried to be good. |
Have I been gentle in my manner to Miss
Hayward? Dear Hasie has been in so much
sorrow that I could not help being gentle, so
I do not deserve any credit for that.
Have I fed all Mammaâ€™s birds, and my own,
regularly every day at the windows? Yes,
regularly every day.
48 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
Have I kept my thoughts better from wan-
dering, while Miss Hayward reads prayers?
Ah, Mamma, I wish I had not to answer that
question. No, I amafraid not. Strive as I will,
â€”for indeed, Mamma, I do strive,â€”my thoughts
will go wandering away. Twenty times I call
them back, and still it is of no use.
I know what I will do, I will make a pro-
mise to Mamma, and to myself, every day to
say a prayer without asking for anything else
but thisâ€”To be able to keep my whole
thoughts fixed, not only at prayers, but at all
times when any body reads to me of God. I
remember one day, a long time ago, Mamma
reading aloud to Papa a sentence from an old
book, and I have never forgotten it since.
It was, â€œ Remember we make a great
66 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
Fifteen days since Papa and Mamma went
away. Fifteen days before Mamma, and Papa,
and Amy can be here. Fifteen days, that is
a long time; a very long time either for
doing good, or doing harm. I am afraid J
have done very little good: in the fifteen days
that are gone. I cannot even remember one
good thing. And how many I might have
done. Oh, Fanny, Fanny, naughty Fanny,
I know Mamma will say, what a poor account
you have to give of a whole month. Your
own sorrows, and your own joys, with those
of Miss Hayward, because she was before
you, and you could not help seeing them, have
filled up all your thoughts; and for fifteen
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 67
whole days you have never looked about to
find whether there are not many many sorrows
all round you, which God has, perhaps, given
you the means of removing, had you taken
the trouble of finding them out.
These are the very words, I know well, that
Mamma would say, were she here at this min-
ute. And I know, too, it would all be true.
I have been happy, and, like the little silver
trout, have not cared who was in sorrow. I
have fared sumptuously every day, and have
never thought whether some poor Lazarus
might not be laid at Papaâ€™s gate, starving of
One of the things Mamma told me parti-
cularly to put in my Journal, was all the visits
we paid to the poor people. And we have not
68 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
I donâ€™t wonder that Miss Hayward forgot,
because she had to think so much of her sister ;
but if I had reminded her, seeing others in
sorrow perhaps might have made her forget
her own sorrow a little, and giving comfort
to them might have comforted her.
We were to have gone to-morrow with
Tiny and a cart to gather large stones, to
build the rock-work in Amyâ€™s garden. This
will be a very hard punishment to give myself,
but will be a very good one. I will ask Miss
Hayward not to let me go for the stones to-
morrow, but to come with me to some of the
Ah! if [had remembered what Metune told
me, and what I know so well myself I ought
to have done, I need not have bgen obliged to
give up the rock-work ; and now, perhaps, |
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. | 69
cannot have the cart again before Amy comes,
and then it will not be finished. I will ask
Miss Hayward if she thinks I ought really to
give it up; perhaps she will say, next day
will do as well for the cottages, and then [|
could have the rock ready too, for I mean to
get up very early, and do as many of my
lessons as I can before breakfast.
Tam much afraid that neither Miss Hayward
nor I are very good wonder-seekers, for since
the night of the wonderful snails, and that
is some nights ago, we have not made one
If it were not for Mr. Stanhope, my collec-_
tion of stories and wonders for Amy, | fear,
would be very small indeed. Every time he
comes he tells me something. And | suppose
70 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
he thinks that while Papa and Mamma are
away we need a great deal of comfort, for he
_ has come very often. And to-day he took me
on his knee, and told me one story after an-
other so delightfully.
One was about the pride of a cow. When
he was paying a visit somewhere in the south,
he went out to walk with a large party, when
they happened to pass near the place where the
cows were kept, at the moment that the dairy-
maid was driving them home to be milked.
They all passed in, he said, quite quietly ex-
cept one, who stood lowing at the door, and all
the dairy-maid could do she would not go in.
The lady of the house asked what this could
mean, and the woman said, It is her pride,
maâ€™am. This answer astonished the whole
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 71
party, but the woman went on. She is so
proud, that if any of the other cows go in
before her, she will not move a step, and
unless I turn them all out now, I may stay
here the whole night, and she will not move.
No one would believe this story of the pride of
-acow; and some of the party told the woman
they would give her five shillings if she would
make her go in. I suppose this was a great
bribe, for round and round the yard flew the
poor woman, and round and round flew the
cow, and into every corner it went to escape
her heavy blows, but in at the door it would
not go. At last, when they were both quite
out of breath, she was allowed to try driving
out the other cows, and no sooner was this done,
than, without a word being said to her, with a
72 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
most stately step and air, she walked con-
tentedly in, and then her much more lowly-
minded companions were allowed to follow.
But the last story of all was the most
curious of all. A great friend of his, Mr.
Massie, a clergyman, who lives somewhere
near Chester, and who has, he says, the love-
liest garden, and the loveliest roses, he thinks,
in all England, told him that one year two
sparrows built a nest exactly opposite the
drawing-room window, andâ€”
â€˜â€œâ€˜ Had laid pretty eggs in it,
One, two, and three.â€
But one day there came a cuckoo, who is
never, Mr. Stanhope says, at the trouble of
building for itself, or even of taking care of
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 73
its own egg, or its own little bird. It seizes,
he says, on any nest that it takes a fancy to,
and having laid its egg in it, flies away, and
leaves its poor child to be brought out, and
brought up by strangers. This was what Mr.
Massieâ€™s cuckoo did; it took possession of the
nest of the poor sparrows, and when its egg
was hatched, and the young cuckoo was old
enough to leave the nest, he used to see it
hopping about the grass with its foster-parents.
But the curious part, the wonder part of the
story is still to come. The young cuckoo,
before it could fly about, or feed itself, had
grown more than twice as big as the poor
little sparrows, so that, when, like all young
birds, it held back its head when it wanted
food, they found it quite impossible to reach
high enough for their great big child.
LITTLE FANNY S JOURNAL. 107
Was not that a good proof of obedience
Mamma? I think we might learn a great
many very good lessons from dogs.
A great event has happened to us to-day,
Mamma. A carriage drove up to the door,
but we did not take much trouble about it,
thinking it was some one who did not know
you were away from home, and who would
never come to see us in the school-room.
However, we were mistaken, for the door
opened and a lady walked in, or rather she ran
108 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
in, and lifted me up in her arms in a minute,
for she is very tall and very beautiful too.
Do you think, Mamma, you know who it
was? I did not, in the least, and she said, I see
you have forgotten me, you naughty little
thing, I am your cousin Mary. Not Mary
Gordon, Mamma, as I dare say you think it
was, but Mrs. Seton, who I thought was far
away in France, and so she was not many days
ago. Nevertheless, she was here to-day, and
now she is gone, and I am so sorry, for she
looked so bright, and so good and so happy,
that it made me happy to look at her.
She knew you were from home, but came
three miles out of her way to see me; was not
that very kind? she only staid one hour, and it
seemed so short. She had her little baby with
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 109
her, such a nice little thing, nearly three years
old; and she told me such a delightful story
about her, that I am longing to tell it to you,
You know cousin Mary was very ill when
she first went to France, and the doctors told
her to drink goatâ€™s milk. So a goat was bought,
and it used to feed all day in the little garden,
and eat up all her pretty flowers without being
scolded, for it was so tame, and she grew so
fond of it that she thought nothing was too
good for it.
Well, Mamma, when the baby was born,
poor Mary was so ill that the doctors thought
she would die, and her little baby die too. It
would not eat, and could not sleep, and did
nothing but cry, till the old cook, who lived in
110 LITTLE FANNY S JOURNAL.
the house, took it up in her arms, saying, I will
give it a better nurse than any of you, and
away she went, nobody thinking much of what
she had said, for when Mary was so ill no one
had time to care for the baby.
After some time, however, they went to look
for her, and there was the old cook sitting out
on the grass in the garden, making an um-
brella of her check kitchen apron, to keep the
sun off the face of the baby, while it lay fast
asleep on her knee.
There, she said, she is fast asleep you see,
she has taken her first good meal, and she has
got a better foster-mother than any of you.
The foster-mother was the goat; and from
that minute it seemed to think it had a better
right to the baby than anybody else; for, when
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 111
the nurse stooped to take the little thing from
the cook, it butted at her with its head and
tried to force her away; then, when she did
get it into her arms, it followed her up stairs
and into Mrs. Setonâ€™s room, though they did
all they could to prevent it.
The old cook was the goatâ€™s best friend, and
the babyâ€™s too, for she went straight to cousin
Harry, and he said his little girl should have
_ no other foster-mother than the goat. So he -
had a small wooden room, or shed, built for it
at one of the nursery windows, that it might
come out and in without disturbing any one.
And many a time it did go out and in, for the
baby never moved or turned in its bed but the
goat was by its side in a moment.
The most curious part of all though is still
112 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
to come: Whenever the baby walked out the
goat was sure to follow, walking as demurely
as if it had nothing to do but to keep guard
over its foster-child.
Well, one day the nurse went to hear the
band play in the large gardens there, and for
some time the baby was quite good, and seemed
to like looking at all the soldiers as much as
the nurse herself. But at last it began to cry,
and first the goat walked round and round
them, butted at the nurse with its head, and at
last tried to spring up and to pull the baby
out of her arms. |
She knew quite well what it wanted, but she
was ashamed, she said, before so many people
to put the baby down on the ground and allow
the goat to nurse it. So she tried to quiet
LITTLE FANNY'S JOURNAL. 113
both, but all in vain; for the more she tried
the more the poor baby cried, and the more
determined the goat became.
At last a young soldier came up. â€˜â€œâ€˜ Good
woman,â€ he said, â€œ the goat will kill you if you
do not give it the child;â€ and taking the little
thing out of her arms, â€œI was not,â€ he said,
â€˜nursed by a goat myself for nothing, and if
you will not give it the child I will, for I wont
stand by and see the poor beast wronged.â€
So here, Mamma, you see were two people .
that had been nursed by dear good kind goats.
I daresay, if Mary had stayed much longer, she
would have told me a great many more delight-
ful stories for my Journal, for she looked as if
she knew a great great many.
74 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
At last one of the wise little things hopped
on its back, and in that way dropped the food
into its mouth.
Mr. Massie saw them do this again and
again, till at last the cuckoo was old enough to
take care of and feed itself, and then it left its
tiny parents, and flew away, I suppose to treat
some other poor bird exactly as its mother
treated the sparrows.
I asked Miss Hayward, last night, before
going to bed, what she thought about the
cottages, and the rock-work. And she would
not give me a bit of advice. She would leave
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 75
it all to myself, she said, and would go with
me to whichever I decided upon. i
The only thing she said to help me at all
was, that unless I felt my own judgment good
enough to direct me, I had better ask help from
God, when I said my prayers. But I was in
such a hurry to get to bed, and to turn it
over and over in my own mind, that I forgot
what she said, and not being able to decide
cost me a good many hoursâ€™ sleep. For my
will said, Go and gather the stones, or Amyâ€™s
garden will not be finished when she comes;
and something else always said, Go to the
cottages, Fanny, you have delayed too long.
And so I could not sleep between the two,
and they went fighting on together, till at
last, Mamma, [ cried.
76 LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL.
I think that was the first thing made me
remember Miss Haywardâ€™s advice, and then I
did pray to God to help me to decide, Mamma;
but whilst I was saying my prayer, I fell sound
asleep, and forgot all about my difficulties,
till very early this morning, when Jane knocked
at my door, as I had asked her. And I donâ€™t
even yet understand how it was. You know
I am generally very lazy when I am called
in the morning. But to-day, before almost I
had heard the knock, I was standing in the
middle of the floor, and while my eyes were
still close shut, I was saying, â€˜â€œâ€˜ Yes, it is quite
time to be up, if we are to go to the cottages
I felt quite happy in a minute, for it seemed
as if it had been decided without my knowing
LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 17
anything about it. And all that had looked
so difficult before, seemed quite easy now, for
I felt quite sure that Hugh would give me the
cart again, and that the rock would be finished,
and that Amy would think her garden pretty.
You cannot think, dear Mamma, how happy
I felt, for then for the first time | remembered
how ashamed I should have been to write
down in my Journal, that I had decided on
going for the stones; and now, too, I remem-
ber how ashamed I ought to be, at this
moment, for having taken so long to decide
on doing what was right, instead of what was
I ran away to the school-room as merry as
a bird, and there was Miss Hayward before
me. I was going to tell her what I had de-
78 LITTLE FANNY'S JOURNAL.
termined to do. But she said, Donâ€™t say a
word, donâ€™t tell me. I know your decision.
I have found it out by your looks. I know if
my own little Fanny had resolved to do her own
pleasure, instead of her duty, she could never
look so happy and contented, as she does at
this moment. Am I not right? I told Miss
Hayward that she was quite right, and that I
was very sorry that I had not seen, or rather
not done at once what I ought to do. For I
did see it, and at first I was quite determined,
but then I began to think of Amyâ€™s disappoint-
ment, and my own disappointment, and that
made me wish to escape it, and to take my
own way, instead of the right way.
Well, dear Mamma, when all our lessons
were finished, away we went, and one after
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LITTLE FANNYâ€™S JOURNAL. 79
another, we visited the seven newest cottages.
And what do you think we found to do,â€”
nothing at all.
They all seemed so comfortable; Papa, they
said, kept the men in work, and sent some of
the children to school. And you sometimes
gave needle-work, and sometimes clothes, and
sometimes potatoes; and God gave them health,
they said, and they had nothing to do, but to
work all day, and be happy.
So all we could think of, when we came
back, was to make a christening frock and cap
for one little baby, who is to be christened in
church next Sunday, and is to be called after
One thing, however, we did hear, and that
was, that a poor old woman of eighty-nine,