n at the scene of
merriment in which she could not partake.

For those who know how to find it, there is good in everything. Sister
Frances used to take her seat on the steps, sometimes with her work and
sometimes with a book; and Victoire, tired of being quite idle, listened
with eagerness to the stories which Sister Frances read, or watched with
interest the progress of her work; soon she longed to imitate what she
saw done with so much pleasure, and begged to be taught to work and read.
By degrees she learned her alphabet, and could soon, to the amazement of
her schoolfellows, read the names of all the animals in Sister Frances'
picture-book. No matter how trifling the thing done, or the knowledge
acquired, a great point is gained by giving the desire for employment.
Children frequently become industrious from impatience of the pains and
penalties of idleness. Count Rumford showed that he understood childish
nature perfectly well when, in his House of Industry at Munich, he
compelled the young children to sit for some time idle in a gallery round
the hall, where others a little older than themselves were busied at
work. During Victoire's state of idle convalescence she acquired the
desire to be employed, and she consequently soon became more industrious
than her neighbours. Succeeding in her first efforts, she was
praised--was pleased, and persevered till she became an example of
activity to her companions. But Victoire, though now nearly seven years
old, was not quite perfect. Naturally, or accidentally, she was very
passionate, and not a little self-willed.

One day being mounted, horsemanlike, with whip in hand, upon the banister
of the flight of stairs leading from the schoolroom to the garden, she
called in a tone of triumph to her playfellows, desiring them to stand
out of the way, and see her slide from top to bottom. At this moment
Sister Frances came to the schoolroom door and forbade the feat; but
Victoire, regardless of all prohibition, slid down instantly, and
moreover was going to repeat the glorious operation, when Sister Frances,
catching hold of her arm, pointed to a heap of sharp stones that lay on
the ground upon the other side of the banisters.

"I am not afraid," said Victoire.

"But if you fall there, you may break your arm again."

"And if I do, I can bear it," said Victoire. "Let me go, pray let me go:
I must do it."

"No; I forbid you, Victoire, to slide down again. Babet and a