PART 2
42. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
(continued)
Now, if she had been the heroine of a moral storybook, she
ought at this period of her life to have become quite saintly,
renounced the world, and gone about doing good in a mortified
bonnet, with tracts in her pocket. But, you see, Jo wasn't a
heroine, she was only a struggling human girl like hundreds of
others, and she just acted out her nature, being sad, cross, listless,
or energetic, as the mood suggested. It's highly virtuous
to say we'll be good, but we can't do it all at once, and it takes
a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together before some
of us even get our feet set in the right way. Jo had got so far,
she was learning to do her duty, and to feel unhappy if she did
not, but to do it cheerfully, ah, that was another thing! She
had often said she wanted to do something splendid, no matter how
hard, and now she had her wish, for what could be more beautiful
than to devote her life to Father and Mother, trying to make home
as happy to them as they had to her? And if difficulties were
necessary to increase the splendor of the effort, what could be
harder for a restless, ambitious girl than to give up her own
hopes, plans, and desires, and cheerfully live for others?
Providence had taken her at her word. Here was the task, not
what she had expected, but better because self had no part in it.
Now, could she do it? She decided that she would try, and in her
first attempt she found the helps I have suggested. Still another
was given her, and she took it, not as a reward, but as a comfort,
as Christian took the refreshment afforded by the little arbor
where he rested, as he climbed the hill called Difficulty.
"Why don't you write? That always used to make you happy,"
said her mother once, when the desponding fit over-shadowed Jo.
"I've no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my
things."
"We do. Write something for us, and never mind the rest of
the world. Try it, dear. I'm sure it would do you good, and
please us very much."
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