NEARLY all the unhappiness that exists in the world has its origin in the want of a proper control over the desires and passions. This is as true in childhood as in more advanced age. Children are unhappy because they do not possess many things they see; and too often, in endeavouring to obtain what they have no right to, they make themselves still more unhappy. A spirit of covetousness is as bad a spirit as can come into the heart; and whoever has this spirit for a guest, cannot but be, most of his time, very miserable.
Albert Hawkins, I am sorry to say, had given place in his heart to this evil spirit of covetousness. Almost everything he saw he desired to possess. Had it not been for this, Albert would have been a very good boy. He learned his lessons well, was obedient and attentive at school and at home, and did not take delight in hurting or annoying dumb animals and insects, as too many boys do. But his restless desire to have whatever he saw marred all this, and produced much unhappiness in his own mind, as well as in the minds of his parents.
One day, on coming home from school, he found his sister Ellen playing with a large new doll that her father had bought for her.
“Oh, isn’t it beautiful!” he exclaimed. “Where did you get it? Let me have it to look at.”
And Albert caught hold of the doll and almost forced it out of the hands of Ellen, who resigned it with great reluctance. He then sat down and held it in his lap, while Ellen stood by, half in tears. She had only had it about an hour, and she could not bear to let it go from her. Albert, in his selfish desire to hold in his hands the beautiful doll, did not think of how much pleasure he was depriving his sister, who patiently waited minute after minute to have it restored to her. At last, seeing that her brother still kept possession of the doll, she said, gently and kindly,—
“Won’t you give it to me now?” and she put out her hand to take it as she spoke.
But Albert pushed her hand quickly away, and said,—
“No, no; I’ve not done with it yet.”
Ellen looked disappointed. But she waited still longer.
“Now, brother, give me my doll, won’t you?” she said.
“Don’t be so selfish about your doll,” answered Albert, rudely. “You shall have it after a while, when I’ve done with it.”
Ellen now felt so vexed that she could not keep from crying. As soon as Albert saw the tears falling over her face, and heard her sob, he became angry, and throwing the doll upon the floor, exclaimed in a harsh voice,—
“There! Take your ugly old doll, if you are so selfish about it!”
As the beautiful figure struck the floor, one of its delicate hands broke off from the wrist. But even a sight of the injury he had done did not soften the heart of Albert, who left the room feeling very angry towards his sister. He was trying to amuse himself in the yard, about half an hour afterwards, when his mother, who had been out, called to him from the door. He went up to her, and she said,—
“Albert, how came the hand of Ellen’s new doll broken? Do you know? I have asked her about it; but the only answer I can get from her is in tears.”
Albert’s eyes fell immediately to the ground, while his face became red.
“I hope you did not break it!” the mother said, pained to see this confusion manifested by her boy.
Now Albert, although of a covetous disposition, never told a lie. He was a truthful boy, and that was much in his favour. To lie is most wicked and despicable. There is no meaner character than a liar.
“Yes, ma’am, I broke it,” he replied, without any equivocation.
“How did you do that, Albert?” asked his mother.
“Ellen would not let me hold it, and I got angry and threw it upon the floor. I didn’t mean to break it.”
At this confession, Albert’s mother was very much grieved.
“But what right had you to Ellen’s doll?” she asked.
“I wanted to hold it.”
“But it was your sister’s, not yours; and if she did not wish you to have it, that was no reason why you should get angry and break it.”
“But, indeed, mother, I didn’t mean to break it.”
“I don’t suppose you did. I should be very sorry to think you were so wicked. Still, you have been guilty of a great wrong to your sister; and to this you have no doubt been led by indulging in that covetous spirit of which I have so often talked to you, and which, if not overcome, may lead you into some great evil when you become a man. But tell me just how it happened.”
And Albert truthfully related what had passed.
“I cannot tell you how much all this grieves me,” his mother said. “Ellen never interferes with your pleasures, and never covets your playthings nor books, but you give her no peace with anything she has. If your father brings each of you home a book, yours is thrown aside in a few moments, and you want to look at hers. It is this covetous spirit—this desiring to have what belongs to another—that leads to stealing; and unless you put it away from your heart, you will be in great danger of more temptations than now assail you. Poor Ellen! Her heart is almost broken about her doll.”
“I am very sorry, mother,” replied Albert in a penitent voice. “I wish I hadn’t touched her doll. Don’t you think it can be mended? Can’t I buy her a new hand for it? I will take the money out of my box.”
“We will see about that, my dear. If you can restore the hand, I think it is your duty to do so. It will be nothing but simple justice, and we should all be just one towards another in little as well as in great things. But your first duty is to go to Ellen and try to comfort her in her affliction, for it is a great grief for her to have her beautiful doll broken. I found her just now crying bitterly.”
All Albert’s better feelings came back into his heart. He felt very sorry for Ellen, and went in immediately to the room where she was. He found her with her head leaning down upon a table, weeping.
“Sister Ellen!” he said, speaking earnestly, “I am so sorry I broke your doll’s hand. Don’t cry, and I will take money out of my box, and buy you a new hand for it.”
Albert’s voice was so kind, and so full of sympathy, that Ellen felt better in a moment. She lifted her head from the table and looked round into her brother’s face.
“You will forgive me, won’t you, sister?” he said. “I was angry and wicked, but I am very sorry, and will try and never trouble you any more. After dinner we will go out, and see if we can’t find another hand, and I will buy it for you out of my own money.”
Ellen’s tears all dried up; and she said in a kind, gentle way, that she forgave her brother. After dinner they went out together, and Albert found a new hand, and bought it for his sister. The doll is now as good as it was before; and what is better, Albert has learned to restrain his covetous spirit, and to leave Ellen happy in the enjoyment of what is her own.
