Shaping the Values of Youth: Sunday School Books in 19th Century America

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HELPS OVER HARD PLACES.

I.

THE YOUNG CONQUEROR.

T HE retiring bell had rung in Mr. Avery's large boarding-school for boys, and one by one, like the closing of so many little twinkling eyes, the lights were extinguished, and the old gray house seemed fast asleep. But in one of the rooms, flooded with the light of the full April moon, lay four wakeful boys, engaged in some eager discussion.

"I say, Hal," cried Bill Massey, exultingly, "I believe I can beat any boy in school in running and jumping. And just feel of these muscles; do you think one of you could stand up a minute, if this arm said ' go down? '"

"I think Hal Gray could," responded Bob Wilson.

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"Yes, I think he'd have a tough time with me," cried Hal's cheery voice.

"Well, perhaps so; and we'll try it tomorrow. But it's a great thing to be strong , and when I'm a man I shall enter the army. I shall soon be promoted on account of my bravery , boys; and then how I'll lead my company on to battle! We'll be like Napoleon's Old Guard. Nothing shall stand before us."

"But," interrupted Hal, with a shiver, "don't you think any thing of shooting people down, killing them all in a minute? I'm sure there could be no glory in battle for me, when I heard the dying men groaning on every side, and thought of the poor mothers and sisters watching and waiting for friends they would never see again."

"My dear chicken," replied Bill, "of course I could not walk right up to a man and shoot him coolly through the heart. But you see it will be all excitement,--horses and men all mixed in together,--officers shouting and urging one on, while the guns and cannons make roar and noise enough for fifty 'Fourths of July.' Then you know our country's enemies will be before us, and you wouldn't


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want them to beat us . No, indeed! so I, for one, should rush in, dealing blows right and left; and by and by the battle would be over, and some proud, rich city would be conquered. Then, in a most magnificent carriage, I should ride through the streets, while the crowd hurrahed, and the band played 'See the conquering hero comes!' What do you think of that, boys?"

"All very well," laughed Hal Gray, "if, in the first place, you only get promoted, and if, secondly, you are not killed yourself upon the field of battle. Two rather important ifs ."

"Oh, captains are never killed," responded Bill.

"Well, I'm going to fight in a safer field," said Bob Wilson, "and perhaps I shall have full as much glory, after all. I'm determined to be wise . There shall not be one difficult study that I will not conquer. I'll fight all the knotty problems. I'll make all the sciences my slaves. I'll lead the languages captive; and then, when Bill is flourishing his sword and gun in the midst of danger, I shall sit quietly in my room, and, with a few strokes of my pen, conquer a nation.


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Yes, indeed! I intend to be strong , and to conquer , but I shall be what Mr. Avery calls an ' intellectual giant.' I intend that my name shall be one of the first in the temple of fame."

"You've got the best of it, Bob," cried Hal's clear voice. "I like your way of fighting, and I think you'll stand the best chance of glory, too. I mean to try as hard as you for the prize that Mr. Avery has offered."

"Boys," said a childish voice, and the pale face of lame Jemmy Packard was raised from his cot. "I should like to tell you of something else you ought to fight against, and, if you conquer, you will have far greater glory than any you have spoken of yet."

"What is it?" said the boys, good-naturedly.

"'He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city,'" repeated Jemmy, emphatically.

"Oh, you miserable little Puritan! shut your eyes and go to sleep," cried Bill Massey.

"No," said Hal, "fair play. Jem has as good a right to speak as any of us, and he shall tell us all about it. Now, Jemmy," continued he, laughing, "that would be the hardest


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kind of a fight for me; do tell us what reward we would have, after our uncomfortable struggle?"

"There are so many rewards," cried lame Jemmy, "that I hardly know where to begin."

"Oh yes," said Bob Wilson, impatiently, "you've been sick so long, you're always thinking about these things. All you mean now is, that people, if they are good, will go to heaven. But if I should get there some day, there are so many great angels there already, that nobody would take any notice of me. Now I want to occupy a high place, and make my name known."

"I don't think you have quite the right kind of ambition, Bob," said Jemmy, meekly; "but if you struggle all your life for earthly fame, it will be nothing compared to the glory given to the conquerors in this nobler battle."

"Tell us about it," said Hal.

"These are the words of the promise," replied Jemmy: "'To him that overcometh (you know what kind of enemies, boys) will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne; and I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels.'


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Oh, Bob, isn't that a greater throne than any you can reach on earth, and isn't that a glorious company to be all listening when the Saviour speaks your name?"

"Would he speak my name, my very name-- Bob Wilson? "

"Why, yes," said Jemmy, with strong faith. "At least, every one in heaven would know who you were, and that you were the Saviour's friend."

"Are there any more promises?" asked Hal.

"Oh, a great many; you must read about them all. He will give you to eat of the tree of life which is in the midst of the paradise of God. He will give you the 'morning star,' and you 'shall not be hurt of the second death.' I can not remember them all, but it's a very great reward."

"I believe Jemmy is the wisest of us all; don't you think so, boys?" asked Hal.

But there was no reply, and the low, regular breathing from that side of the room proved that they had both fallen asleep.

"Yes, Jemmy," continued Hal; "I know you are right. It is just as mother has always taught me; and sometimes I do try to


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rule my spirit. But I get angry so easily, and when all the blood rushes to my head, and my heart thumps so fast, I have to do just the first thing I think of, and that is sure to be wrong. It isn't because I'm ashamed or afraid to do right."

"No, I knew you were not afraid the first night you came, when you kneeled down before us all and said your prayers."

"But, Jemmy, when the boys provoke me, I can't bear to take it so meekly, and, as the good people say, 'turn the other cheek,' but I want to defend myself--show them it won't do to plague such a boy as I am. As Bill says, I want to conquer them. I always thought if ever I were an angel, I should want to be one of those who 'excel in strength .'"

"Dear Hal," said Jemmy, "I'm afraid you have a great many victories to gain before you could be the poorest kind of an angel. It is very easy for such a strong boy as you to have all sorts of triumphs like Bill Massey's, but can't you see how much nobler and grander it is to conquer one's self?"

"Yes, I do see it, and I will try. It will be hard, but I'll have no mercy on myself.


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Down envy! down pride! down passion! What beautiful promises to 'him that overcometh!' Pray for me, Jemmy, that I may be one of the right kind of conquerors, for they are better, far 'better than the mighty!'"

It was a warm morning in the latter part of May, and Hal Gray, on his way to chapel,--arm in arm with lame Jemmy,--met Bill Massey.

"Good morning, Puritans," said he, with a kind of wicked smile. "You'll be apt to see some fun at prayers this morning."

"What do you mean?" asked both together.

"Oh! you two boys are always talking about being so good, and 'overcoming,' and all that; perhaps you'll see old Prex overcome this morning, or come over , just as you please to take it."

Harry immediately suspected some trick, and begged Bill not to do any thing to hurt the feelings of kind Mr. Avery. But he could draw nothing further from his mischievous schoolmate, and so went reluctantly on.

As he entered the chapel, he looked hurriedly around. Every thing was in its place, and he felt somewhat reassured. Presently


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Mr. Avery appeared, and walked, with dignified step, to his chair. Hal watched him, with painful interest; nor were his fears in vain; for, as the worthy man seated himself, the chair suddenly gave way, and he was prostrated on the floor. A few silly boys laughed, but the hot blood rushed to Hal's cheeks and brow, especially when he saw that Mr. Avery had so sprained his foot as to be unable to rise without the assistance of an under teacher. The chair was immediately examined, and it was discovered that one of the back legs had been sawed off.

Mr. Avery turned very sternly to the assembled boys, and demanded who had dared perpetrate such a miserable joke.

The most profound silence followed the question, but as Mr. Avery's keen eye swept round the room, it rested on the embarrassed face of Hal Gray.

"What do you know about it, sir?" he asked suddenly.

The crimson grew deeper upon Hal's cheeks; but he drew himself up a little proudly, as he firmly replied, "I did not do it, sir."

"Do you know who did?" persisted Mr. Avery.

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Harry hesitated, and at last said, faintly "I would rather not answer, sir."

"But I command you. Come, I am waiting for the name," said Mr. Avery, with growing impatience.

Harry hesitated, and a low murmur of disapprobation ran through the ranks of boys, most of whom had imbibed that false idea of honor which makes it very contemptible to inform against a schoolfellow, no matter how deeply he is to blame. Harry had a vague idea that such a cowardly act ought to be punished, but it was so hard to speak; besides, what proof had he, after all, that Bill Massey was the rogue?

"Please excuse me, sir," pleaded Hal; "I can not tell that."

" Can not? [sic] and why?" cried Mr. Avery, a little angrily. But poor Hal could only repeat, "Please excuse me, sir."

"Very well," said Mr. Avery, thoroughly vexed at what he called Harry's obstinacy, while the growing pain in his foot tended to increase an irritability in which he seldom indulged. "Very well, sir; if you have nothing further to say, we may reasonably conclude that you are the guilty one yourself,


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and will proceed to award your punishment."

"I did not do it, Mr. Avery," interposed Harry; but that gentleman, with a hastiness he afterwards regretted, proceeded to say, "Harry Gray is suspended from his classes for one week, and ordered to remain in his room during the hours of recreation for the same length of time."

Lame Jemmy interposed tearfully, "Will this prevent him from taking the prize at the end of this term, sir?"

"Of course," said Mr. Avery, briefly, and proceeded with the same morning exercises.

This last was too great a blow for Hal. He had striven so hard for that prize, and meant so to delight his mother, and now to lose it all in a minute! It was too much, and leaning back in the shadow of the chapel pillar, he with difficulty restrained his tears. And then, too, how hard to have Mr. Avery think so ill of him. Surely Bill would not have the heart to leave him in such disgrace,--he would confess. But no, not a word more was said upon the subject; and presently the boys dispersed to their different class rooms, giving Hal many a look and word of sympathy


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as they passed, for he was a great favorite in the school.

At the hour for morning exercise, Hal could not resist hurrying down for one minute's talk with Bill Massey. "Bill, Bill," he cried, as the boy tried to evade him, "surely, you do not mean to make me lose the prize. You will tell Mr. Avery, won't you? I know he won't scold very hard, now it's all over; and you know you can't get the prize, any way. Won't you tell him, Bill?"

"I don't think I shall do any thing of the kind."

"You won't tell him?" cried Hal, with indignant surprise.

"No," said Bill, doggedly.

The bright color leaped into Hal's cheeks, and his eyes flashed with anger.

"Well, then, you're a mean-spirited fellow, and a coward!" cried Hal, his fiery temper entirely getting the mastery of him.

"No boy shall call me that," said Bill, coolly rolling up his sleeves.

"Come on," cried Harry, excitedly. "I'm ready to fight, if that's what you mean."

"Hal, dear Hal," pleaded lame Jemmy, and his clinging touch was upon the boy's arm.

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Hal's eyes softened a little, as he said, "Go away, please, Jem; I might hurt you."

But Jemmy clung the tighter. "Dearest Hal, you are not the right kind of a conqueror now. Oh! think, Hal, 'to him that overcometh,' the tree of life, the morning star, the paradise of God. Now is the time to fight hard, ' down passion, down revenge.' Be a conqueror, Hal, but be sure and strike in the right place."

Hal's anger rapidly cooled as Jem spoke, and at last he threw his arms around his little friend, exclaiming, "Jemmy, I believe you are my good angel." Then turning to Bill, he said, with an effort, "I am sorry I called you names, but I can not fight with you."

Bill broke into a loud, sneering laugh.

"That's a good way to get out of it, you miserable sneak. Why don't you say you don't dare fight, instead of playing good, and trying to imagine you're a martyr just ready to be taken out of a wicked world?"

Hal was about making an indignant reply, but checked himself just in time, and rushing to his room, threw himself upon his knees, repenting bitterly of this outburst of passion, and humbly asking help for the future. Harry


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bore the remainder of his week of disgrace with quiet gentleness and patience, and Mr. Avery more than once regretted the severity of his sentence.

A few more weeks passed, and found Hal still fighting the good fight, with his proud, young spirit under firm control.

In the long twilight of a lovely June evening, Hal was walking with Jemmy by the river, watching Bill Massey, as he taught a troop of young boys to swim.

"There is one thing troubling me, Jemmy," said Hal, at length. "I do not think I feel quite right towards Bill Massey yet. I don't like to have him near me, and I would rather oblige any boy in school than him."

"Well, it is hard, but I suppose it is another feeling to overcome. We must pray for strength to fight it down."

"I do , Jem," said Hal, with sweet seriousness, "and I wish you'd pray for me."

"You're not such a bad boy, after all," cried Jem, lovingly, looking into Hal's clear, honest eyes. "I believe if there were some great service to be done for Bill this minute, you'd be the first to offer."

"I'm not so sure of that," returned Hal, laughing.

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Just then there was a great commotion among the swimmers, and some little boys on shore cried out, "Bill Massey is going down! he has the cramp; he will drown!"

"Ah, that is true!" cried Jem; "and those little fellows can only keep their own heads above water. Oh, why did he go out so far?"

Hal did not stop to think twice, but, pulling off coat and boots, plunged into the water, and with swift strokes approached the drowning boy. Bill was a long distance from shore, and it was almost by superhuman efforts that Hal managed to reach him as he was sinking for the last time.

"There, he has him!" shouted the little boys. "Hurrah!" But Jem's anxieties were not over. "Poor Hal is so tired," he thought, "how will he tow in that heavy Bill Massey?"

Slowly, and with painful effort, carefully keeping the head of his companion above the water, the brave swimmer struck out for the shore. At first he came on gallantly, then his strength seemed to flag, and once or twice both disappeared from sight.

"Oh, if I were only not quite so helpless," groaned Jemmy; "run, call some of the big boys, quick, or they will both drown!"

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What an endless time it seemed before help came. Ah! there was Hal's curly head again, nearer, nearer. "A few more strokes, dear Hal," cried Jem. "You are almost in."

Here the little boys set up a wild shout, as two or three of the older students arrived just in time to draw the exhausted pair from the water. Part of them then applied themselves to the task of reviving Bill Massey, while the rest crowded around Hal, congratulating him, and warmly shaking his hand. Hal smiled faintly, and tried to thank them; but suddenly he turned deathly pale, a stream of blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell fainting in Bob Wilson's arms.

"What is it?" cried Jemmy, in terror, as they laid him upon the grass.

"Call Mr. Avery, and run for a physician," cried Bob, giving quick orders to the little boys. Jem, in the mean while, knelt down, and drew the dear head upon his breast. Smoothing back the wet curls, he whispered anxiously, "How do you feel, darling?"

Hal opened his eyes, and with his own bright smile, ever mindful of the feelings of others, replied, "It is nothing; I do not suffer any."

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But with the exertion of these few words, the life stream gushed forth so violently that the boys turned pale, and looked at each other with a terrible fear.

Presently good Mr. Avery came hurrying down. "What is this, my dear, dear boy?" he cried, as he saw his favorite pupil extended, apparently lifeless, before him.

A few hurried words explained the whole matter.

"What can be done for him?" he cried, as the physician made his appearance. "Dr. Brown, you must save this noble boy."

The doctor knelt beside him a moment, with a very grave face. "He has broken a blood-vessel," he whispered to Mr. Avery. "I'm afraid he will live but a few minutes."

"Oh, do not say that," groaned Mr. Avery. "Make every exertion for his life--leave no remedy untried."

Just then Hal opened his eyes, dreamily, and seeing the pale, grave face of his teacher bending over him, he said, anxiously, "Do you still think I did it, sir?"

Bill Massey broke through the crowd, and, in a tone full of anguish and remorse, cried out, "Oh, Mr. Avery, if he means the chair,


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I did it, I did it. Oh, Hal, you must, you must forgive me."

A look of satisfaction passed over Hal's pale face, and he turned smilingly to Mr. Avery.

"Is it all right now, sir?"

"Oh, my darling child!" sobbed Mr. Avery, and could say no more.

All remedies were in vain, and the young life ebbed fast.

"What is it, dear Hal?" wept Jemmy, putting his ear close to those loved lips, to catch an almost inarticulate murmur.

"The morning star," whispered Hal, faintly; "the tree of life in the midst of the paradise of God!"

"'To him that overcometh,' to you , dear Hal; but ah!" cried lame Jemmy, with a sudden burst of anguish, "will you leave me behind, O Hal!"

Harry Gray did not seem to heed those once familiar tones, but, opening his clear eyes once more, he gazed lovingly around the weeping circle, gave one last, bright smile, and the last enemy was destroyed, even Death .

That night, as Bob and Jemmy watched


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in the room where the young conqueror slept peacefully after the battle of life, the door softly opened, and Bill Massey stole in.

Jemmy half shuddered when he saw him, but the boy was so changed, so pale and broken-hearted, Jemmy could not say a word to reproach him. For a while he mourned and wept bitterly, then, drawing forth a wreath of laurel, he laid it reverently upon Hal's soft, bright curls.

"He is a greater conqueror than ever I shall be," he sobbed, as he rushed from the room.

"Yes," added Bob, "and he has won a greater prize than I have ever striven for."

"And I believe," cried Jemmy, almost with exultation, as he kissed the fair brow, "I believe God has made him an angel, excelling in strength."

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II.

TENDER-HEARTED, FORGIVING ONE ANOTHER.

I N the sweet June twilight, Willy Carter came slowly through the clover-scented fields, carrying very carefully a little willow basket, with the cover tied fast. A very satisfied smile was tugging at the corners of Willy's red mouth, and happy thoughts were dancing like fire-flies in the twilight of his great gray eyes. It was so pleasant walking there so quietly, with the red sunset still burning in the west, and the birds crooning so sleepily from the trees; and then when, once in a while, he took a delighted peep through the crevices of the basket, how could he help smiling more and more?

But suddenly, as he lifted his eyes, he saw Jack Dawkins standing by the stile at the end of the meadow. Now Willy was quite afraid of Jack, who was rather a mischievous boy, loving to tease his companions, and so he turned quietly to go in another direction.


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[Two boys standing near a fence. The younger one holds a basket; the older holds a stick. A little dog looks up at them.]



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But Jack saw the intention, and called loudly,--

"Here, Will Carter, you little blockhead, where are you going so fast, and what have you got in your basket?"

Willy knew it would do no good to run, and so he thought he would just try to be very pleasant and polite, and perhaps he would have no trouble. So he went forward as cheerfully as he could, saying,--

"Oh! Jack, what do you think! I have been over to grandmother's, and she has given me the most beautiful kitten in the world!"

"Let's see her," said Jack.

Will lifted the cover cautiously, saying, "She's so lively, she'd be out in a minute, if you didn't take care. Now did you ever see such a beauty?"

Jack peered in curiously. "She is pretty, that's a fact--just as white as snow."

"There isn't a black hair on her, anywhere," cried Will, with enthusiasm; "and I'm trying to think what name to give her. Pearl is good, and Snowball, but grandmother called her Lily, and I guess I will, too. Oh! you ought to see her run after a string. She


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rolls over and over, just like a little ball of wool."

"What will you take for her?" asked Jack.

"Oh, I don't want to sell her," said Will, with great apprehension, sliding the cover over the basket.

"I'll give you my top."

"No, I don't want it."

"My kite?"

"I've got one of my own."

"Well," urged Jack, "what if I should give you my knife with two blades?"

"Ah," said Willy, thoughtfully, "maybe you'd want it back again; and, any way, I think I'd rather keep the kitten."

"You're a mean, stingy fellow!" cried Jack, angrily, "and I've a good mind to take it away from you this minute."

"Jack," pleaded Willy, "you wouldn't like to give me your little dog, Spot, would you?"

"No, indeed; I love him as well as I do myself."

"Then, why won't you let me keep my kitten?"

"Well, you're such a girl-baby, you don't know half the funny things you can do with her."

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"Why, what are they?"

"Let me take her a minute, and I'll show you."

Willy didn't dare refuse, and tremblingly handed out his little pet.

"Well," said Jack, "in the first place, you can play hand-organ with her. You just take her by the back of the neck, this way, and then take her tail and turn it round and round--just so. There," said he, laughing loudly, "do you hear the mew -sic?"

The poor kitten stretched out her little velvet paws, and mewed piteously, while the tears started to Will's eyes.

"That's too cruel, Jack; you will twist her tail off ."

"Well, then she'll be better off; for suppose my dog, Spot, chases her, and she runs for some hole, and just has time to squeeze in, won't she be a great deal happier if she don't have her tail to look after?" and Jack laughed loudly at this poor attempt at wit.

Poor Will now begged very hard that Jack would put the kitten back in the basket, but all in vain; and he was just ready to despair, when he saw the school-teacher, good Mr. Hope, who was taking his evening walk


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through the fields. This gentleman, who had heard the latter part of the conversation, now stepped up quickly, and ordered Jack to restore the kitten, while he gave him a severe reprimand for his cruelty. Jack colored with rage and shame, and whispering to Will, "I'll pay you for this, some day," he darted across the fields, and Will hastened home to his mother. You may be sure he had a long story to pour into her sympathizing ears; but at last, as he finished, saying, "Now, mother, did you ever know such a hateful boy? I declare, I can't bear him; and I almost wish somebody would cut off Spot's tail," his mother looked very sad, and said,--

"My dear, dear son, you do not know what you are saying. I am afraid our great Father in heaven sees very little difference in the hearts of Willy Carter and Jack Dawkins. I am sure Willy has been a sinful child to-day. He has been cross, thoughtless, disobliging, selfish, and has cherished many unkind thoughts. Oh! how very sad it would be if God should remember my little son's morning prayer, 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,'


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and should say, 'I will forgive Willy Carter just as he forgives Jack Dawkins.'"

"Oh! mother," said poor Will, with streaming eyes, "I never thought of that. Do kneel down with me, and ask God to forgive me, and help me to forgive Jack."

So they prayed a long time; and when, at last, they rose from their knees, Willy looked as if he were at peace with all the world. Then his mother kissed him, and said,--

"I have a little Bible verse which I wish my son to learn and always remember. It is this: 'And be kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another , even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."

Willy learned it perfectly, and then, before going to bed, went out to find a good place in the barn where Lily might lodge for the night. As he left her nicely curled in the straw, he heard a slight noise, and thought he saw, through a knothole, the envious eyes of Jack Dawkins. But they were gone in a minute, and he concluded it was a mistake.

The next morning he rose early, and ran out to have a scamper with Lily before breakfast; but, to his surprise, she was not in the barn. A hasty search through the garden


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and kitchen was equally unsuccessful; and so he ran very swiftly across the fields to grandmother's, to see if the kitten had grown homesick and run back to her brothers and sisters. But no, she had not been seen since they squeezed her little white back under the cover of Willy's basket. Poor Will came back slowly and heavily, had no appetite for his breakfast, and sat down to his lessons with a very sad heart.

In the afternoon a small box was left at the door for Will. The little boy tore off the wrapper, and read, printed on the box in straggling letters, "A pond Lily for Miss Willy Carter." He opened the box with a queer choking in his throat, and a vague suspicion that all was not right; and there, indeed, lay his little white kitten, with filmy eyes, draggled, dripping, drowned! Willy gave one look, and threw himself, sobbing, into his mother's arms. He could not speak for a long time; but at last exclaimed, passionately,--

"Oh, Jack, Jack! how could you be so cruel? It's too mean, too mean! "

"Tender-hearted," whispered his mother "forgiving one another."

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"Oh, I can't now ," sobbed Will, "but I'll try by and by."

And he did try very hard, and, going to his own little room, he prayed so earnestly for help, that God gave him a "tender heart," and took away all anger and desire of revenge.

That night, as Will stood sadly in the garden, over the spot where he had buried his kitten, he heard a sudden cry of "fire!" Soon men came hurrying past, and little Will, carried away by excitement, joined them. "Where is it?" cried one. "Neighbor Dawkins' barn, and he away at town," was the reply.

It was almost dark, and Will stood gazing at the flames, with mingled fear and delight, when he heard the melancholy howl of a dog, and it flashed across his mind that poor Spot was chained in the barn, and Jack had gone off with his father.

"Ah! how terribly Jack will feel to have Spot burnt up!" thought Will. "I wonder where the poor dog is."

He ran hastily around the other side of the barn, and caught a glimpse of Spot, jumping furiously the length of his chain, and then giving a long, despairing howl.


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The sympathy in Will's great, big heart drove out every thought of fear, and, seeing that that part of the barn was not yet in flames, he sprang through an opening, into the midst of the smoke, unchained the trembling little Spot, and escaped safely into the open air.

"Why, boy, are you crazy?" cried the stout fireman, catching him up. "It was only a dog."

"Oh! I could not bear to see him burn up; and then Jack loves him so dearly."

Just then Jack came rushing up. "Where's Spot?" he cried, in a trembling voice. "Did nobody unchain Spot?"

"Here," said a man, " this little fellow periled his life to save him for you. He must think a heap of you."

Jack turned crimson, and took the dog without a word, while Willy ran home.

An hour afterwards, as Willy still lingered upon the piazza, talking with his mother, Jack came suddenly running up the steps, and threw his arms around his neck.

"Dear, good Will," he sobbed, "can you ever forgive me? See, I have brought you Spot. He is more yours than mine. Oh,


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will you be my friend, and help me to be a better boy?"

"I've forgiven you long ago, Jack," said little Will, giving him a kiss of peace; "but I do not want Spot. I could never feel happy to take your own little dog you have loved so long."

But Jack could hardly be comforted, till Willy's mother, taking his hand, talked kindly to him a long time, and taught him Willy's sweet verse. Jack went home that night with some new thoughts in his head, and he made a firm resolve, with God's help, to lead a different life. The next morning he walked two miles to get another kitten for Will; and I am happy to say that these two boys did become so kind, so tender-hearted, so forgiving to one another and to all others, that we have every reason to believe that God, for Christ's sake, has fully forgiven them.

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III.

BUYING THE TRUTH.

"W HAT are you doing, Bob?" cried a cheery voice, one pleasant Saturday afternoon; and down the neat gravel walk tripped a sunny-faced little girl of about seven years. Brother Bob lay under the great elm tree, at the foot of the garden, with a little book open before him, and a very puzzled look in his usually happy face.

"Don't trouble me, Katie," said he, rather shortly; "I've such a long lesson to learn for to-morrow."

"Oh, Bob," said she, coaxingly, "let's learn it together."

"Why, you little simpleton!" cried Bob, laughing with such a funny face, that Katie, although somewhat grieved, was obliged to laugh too. For when Bob had a merry thought, it was not content with stretching his rather large mouth, but it ran all over his face, twinkled in his eyes, jerked up the


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corner of his eyebrows, and finally played hide and seek in two or three curious little holes which mamma called dimples, but where Katie contended the good angels had touched him when he was a baby.

"Now, Bob," said she, rather reproachfully, when he was through laughing "all over," "now, Bob, what did I do?"

"Why, pet," said Bob, "you haven't known how to read long, and have to spell all the hard words, now; you wouldn't be any help at all."

"But perhaps," persisted Katie, "if you'd read the lesson, I could explain some of it, for mother and I have such long talks together while you are away at school."

Bob shouted again, and said,--

"Just to think of your explaining any thing to me , when I am four years older, and a boy besides!"

Katie turned away with eyes like violets after a shower.

"Well, well, come back, little sister," cried Bob, half sorry that he had grieved her. "Come back; I should like to ask your opinion on something."

Katie paused, with a doubtful face.

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"What does this mean?" said he--"Buy the truth, and sell it not?"

"Why," said Katie, twisting her small fingers nervously, "what do you think, brother Bob?"

"I don't think," said Bob; "that's just the trouble. I suppose I know what truth is, but I didn't know any body kept it to sell, and I don't know how much I'd have to pay for it. If I could find it I'd buy a great deal, and wouldn't sell it very soon, either; for Mr. West told me last Sunday that a boy couldn't have too much of it;" and Bob laughed, forgetting his own perplexity in watching his little sister's anxious face.

"Bob," said Katie at length, "I believe you are half making fun of me. Nobody keeps truth to sell just as Mrs. Mills does oranges and candy; but I think it is something God keeps, and when we ask Him for it, we don't pay for it with money, but, but"--

"But--but"--repeated little teasing Bob.

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