Mary Wollstonecraft's Original Stories

tory of Ja

d near them, one of the young birds lying on the floor dead. With great eagerness each of them tried, the moment she entered, to exculpate herself, and prove that the o

t to feed the birds. Mary insisted that she had a right, because she was the eldest; and Caroline, because she took t

e I pity you. You are now inferiour to the animals that graze on the common; reason only serves to render your folly more conspicuous and inexcusable. Anger, is a little despicable vice: its selfish emotions banish compassion, and undermine every virtue. It is eas

he soul reserves its firmness for great occasions, and then it acts a decided part. It is just the contrary mode of thinking, and the conduct produced

will take stronger hold on y

ny of her playfellows had toys, that struck her capricious sickly fancy, she would cry for them; and substitutes were in vain offered to quiet her, she must have the identical ones, or fly into the most violent passion. When she was an infant, if she fell down, her nurse m

hich is necessary when they grow so fast, to make them strong and handsome. Instead of being a comfort to her tender, though mistaken, mother, she was her greatest torment. The

y felt something like an affection for it: but, one day, it happened to snatch a cake she was going to eat, and though there were twenty within reach, she flew into a violent passion, and threw a stool at the poor cr

ave her, stung her to the heart. After its death she was very unhappy; but did not try to conquer her temper. Al

r ill-humour on those who depended on her. If no disappointment of that kind occurred, she could not enjoy the promised pleasure; somethi

looked pleased, she still resembled a heap of combustible matter, to which an accidental spark might set fire; of course quiet people were afraid to conve

r death, by her want of duty, and her many other fau

, if you were now alive, I would not teaze you-I would give the world to let you know that I am sorry for what I have done: y

render that last sleep sweet-its approach was dreadful!-and she hastened her end, scolding the physician for not curing her. Her lifeless countenance displayed the marks of convulsive anger; and she left