Soon after Miss stole to the dog, held out her hand as if she had meat for him, and then snatched it away again. The creature resented this treatment, and snapped at her fingers. When I met her crying, with her hand wrapped in a napkin. “So,” said I, “you have been meddling with the dog! Now you know _why_ I bade you let _Pompey_ alone.” _Little Steady._ Did she not think you were unkind not to pity her? I thought—do not be displeased, father—but I thought it was strange that you did not comfort her. _Mr. Steady._ You know that her hand was not very much hurt, and the wound had been dressed when I met her. _Little Steady._ Yes, father, but she was so sorry! _Mr. Steady._ She was not so sorry for her fault, as for its consequences. _Little Steady._ What, father? _Mr. Steady._ Her concern was for the pain which she felt in her fingers; not for the fault which had occasioned it. _Little Steady._ She was very naughty, I know; for she said that she would get a pair of thick gloves, and _then_ she would tease _Pompey_. _Mr. Steady._ Naughty girl! how ill-disposed! then my lecture was lost upon her. I bade her while she felt the smart, resolve to profit by _Pompey’s_ lesson; and learn to believe that her friends might have good reasons for their orders; though they did not think it proper always to acquaint her with them. _Little Steady._ I once cut myself with a knife which I had not leave to take; and when I see the scar, I always consider that I ought not to have taken the knife. _Mr. Steady._ That, I think, is the school-house; now go in, and be good. THE PICTURES. Mrs. _Lovechild_ had one room in her house fitted up with books, suited to little people of different ages.—She had likewise toys, but they were such as would improve, as well as amuse her little friends. The book-room opened into a gallery, which was hung with prints and pictures, all chosen with a view to children. All designed to teach little folks while they were young; in order that when they grew up, they might act worthily. There were written accounts of each picture, with which her ladyship would often indulge good children. Sometimes she walked about herself and explained a few of the pictures to her little guests. One day I chanced to be present when she was showing a few of them to a little visiter; and I think my young reader may like to hear what passed. _Mrs. Lovechild._ That is Miss _Goodchild_.—I have read an account of her, written by her mother. _Miss._ Pray, madam, what was it? _Mrs. Lovechild._ It is too long to repeat now, my dear; but I will tell you a part.—She was never known to disobey her parents; never heard to contradict her brothers or sisters; nor did she ever refuse to comply with any request of theirs.—I wish you to read her character, for she was a pattern of goodness. _Miss._ Pray, madam, was she pretty?