but her verse was fresh in her mind and mamma's words still sounded in her ears. So with a great sob she sat down to pick up her treasures. Dick looked as if "did n't mean to" was written all over his bright face as he surveyed his work and his sister's quivering lips. "What a shame! I'm really sorry, Kitty, but I was in such a hurry, you see. Why, what's up? you have n't said a cross word!" "I am angry, though; at least I was," said little Kitty, who was the soul of truth. "But I remembered my verse and what mamma said." "What was that?" said Dick; so Kitty repeated her verse with her mother's explanation, adding, “I promised to remember that charity means love, and to be kind to-day. Only it is hard work and I'm afraid I shall fail." "Well, I'll keep an eye on you myself," said Dick, who had much faith in his own strength and capacity. "Any how you're really jolly not to be vexed at me. I'm ever so sorry I made a muss with your things, and I'll get you another slate some time." Dick turned to his books, and Kitty having returned his kiss of peace-offering, betook herself to the nursery, and the comfort of a frolic with baby. Alas, for her disappointment! Nurse was sewing, the baby was asleep, and Kitty's mamma bade her take toddling Fred to the garden and amuse him for an hour. lieve it's because I tried to mind my versesomething has happened all the time!" If Kitty confessed to herself this was a naughty thought, she did not drive it away, but stood meditating it so earnestly she did not hear a stealthy step behind her, till she felt a shock of something cold on her bare shoulder, and Dick's voice sang at her ear, "Beautiful dreamer, waken to me!" Kitty considered ice a luxury of Summer, but the bit Dick had abstracted from the waterpitcher, and slily placed on her neck, did not seem appropriate. Her scream and sudden start denoted any thing but enjoyment. That sudden start upset the chair on which she leaned, which knocked down the frail fancytable close by, which, in its turn, hit and demolished a little statuette of Parian marble, the pride and joy of Kitty's heart. Dick stood dismayed at the house-that-Jack-built-train of accidents following his poor joke. "I did n't mean" he began, but his sister did not allow him to finish his apology. "O, you bad boy! You did mean to you always do-and I won't stand it any longer! You are always teasing me, and I do n't love you one bit. I'll go right and tear up your Robinson Crusoe, and cut your fish-line all to pieces!" And with streaming tears and scarlet cheeks, Kitty rushed away to fulfill her threat, and tumbled into the arms of her mamma, who "I can have no play at all now," pouted stood on the threshold. Kitty, "Fred is so restless." "Charity suffereth long, and is kind," whispered her dear voice, as she held fast her struggling little daughter. "I don't care!" cried Kitty, "I have suffered "Patience always goes with charity, darling," whispered mamma with a kiss on the white brow that would frown. So Kitty called back the smiles and amused her little charge faith-long-very long-all day! And I've been fully, knowing that her mother's approval was a sweet reward for any toil. kind and tried to love people-and it's no use at all. It's harder and harder, and worse all the time I try, so-o-o," but here Kitty had no more breath for words, and used it all in a burst of passionate sobbing. At last Fred was disposed of in his crib, and Kitty's labors, if not her trials, were over. She began to think the latter multiplied beyond endurance when Dick announced that all the Carters were coming to dinner. The Carter children were not very well bred; Kitty re-ing fast the little girl. membered their noise and practical jokes with a shudder. Nor did she find Dick a help that afternoon, for he joined in Alec Carter's laugh when Susie knocked off the waxen nose of Kitty's best doll, and her brother tipped both girls from the swing, to the great damage of muslin frocks and white aprons. "There is another verse that says, 'Charity never faileth,' my darling," said mamma, hold "Then I may as well give up," answered Kitty, between her tears. "For I can not be good, and I do n't and won't love Dick any more." "Did Jesus say that ever? Even at the time of his cruel death, after he had suffered long, yes, all his life, he said, 'Father, forgive them.'" Poor Kitty! she would n't look at the sorrowful figure in the window, and she tried not. to know that there were tears in the eyes of that blundering, teasing brother. Yet before At last the unwelcome guests departed, and Kitty watched their retreating figures through the twilight with satisfaction mingled with vexation. "It has been just the hardest day! I do be- long mamma had both her children together in VOL. XXVII.-12 her arms, and impulsive Kitty's kisses were not mented if she could only see the sarcastic exgiven to her alone. pression of your countenance just now," laughed Louie. Dick looked after the two who presently went up the stairs, and gave himself a vigorous shake. "You 're a humbug, Richard Spofford," he said to himself softly. 'You were going to keep an eye on that little sister of yours! I should think you had with a vengeance." And he also walked up stairs to bed, with a very soft whistle, more significant than words, and a shining drop or two on his honest cheek. IT'S REAL MEAN. T'S real mean!" "IT "So I think. Do you know she has reduced my rank one-fourth, just for one failure. It's no use for me to compete for the prize. There!" and a very unbecoming pout settled on the speaker's lips as she pettishly tossed her books upon the turf. "She is the most hateful teacher we ever had," said Laura Morton; "she does n't explain half as much as Miss Hovey used to." "And gives a great deal longer lessons," resumed the first speaker. "I've a great mind not to open one of my books this evening," exclaimed Clara Sabine. "I've a music lesson to practice, which is far more agreeable than poring over those horrid French verbs, or puzzling my brain about x, y, z, in the endless algebra problems with which she has favored us." "Well," said "Laughing Eyes," as her companions called merry little Louie Weston, "I suppose I must make a commencement on my composition to-night. Let's see what the subjects are," taking a paper from her portfolio. 'Eastern and Western Scenery Compared.' Never having been very far in that direction can't express much of an opinion, and I don't approve of 'hearsay evidence.' 'The Discontented Pearl.' Must be the one in my ring. Any how, the owner is n't very well 'contented' with it, seeing she wanted a diamond instead. My First Attempt at Cooking.' O yes, I recollect it very well; I tried to make cake, and forgot to put the soda in; burned my fingers, too, taking it from the oven. Do n't care to relate that to a crowd. 'Description of a Schoolmate'-Addie Severance by name; think I could write on that subject very well." "Do n't put me into a composition if you please," retorted the young miss. "You'd better employ your talent on a description of our worthy preceptress." Ah, she had no need to see it; she could easily imagine what sort of expression would be likely to accompany the unkind remarks of the thoughtless girls, which distinctly reached her ears through the open window, as she bent over a pile of French exercises, full of errors, which a little care might have rendered less, and thus saved the weary teacher the necessity of remaining till sunset to correct them. "It's real mean." Was this to be the reward for days of anxiety and sleepless nights, spent in plans for their future welfare and improvement? Was it for this she had left her pleasant home and kind friends-to teach among strangers, unappreciated and disliked? She bowed her throbbing head upon her hands, and tears were fast welling up to her eyes. A light step at her side caused her to turn. "I've been waiting to bid you good-night, Miss Terry," said a sweet voice, and lips were offered for a kiss. "I love you dearly," said the impulsive little girl. "I hope you will stay with us a long, long time." "Thank you, darling. I wish all my scholars loved me so." "O, they will by and by; they can't help loving you, Miss Terry, you are so kind." How quickly the cloud was lifted from the young teacher's heart! "They will love you by and by." "Yes," she thought, "they shall love me. I will not be discouraged yet. I will persevere till I have succeeded in winning their affections, and caused them to exclaim, 'You are so kind,' instead of 'It's real mean.'' SPEAK THE TRUTH. THE ground-work of our manly character is veracity, or the habit of truthfulness. That virtue lies at the foundation of every word said. How common it is to hear parents say, "I have faith in my child so long as he speaks the truth. He may have many faults, but I know he will not deceive. I build on that confidence." They are right. It is lawful and just ground to build upon. So long as the truth remains in the child there is something to depend upon; but when the truth is gone all is lost, unless the child is speedily won back to veracity. Children, did you ever tell a lie? If so, you are in imminent danger. Return at once, little reader, and enter the stronghold of truth, and from it may you never depart "Our worthy preceptress would feel compli- again! THE EDITOR'S REPOSITORY. Chr Family Cirilt. remain without going to sleep again till the sense of weariness passes from their limbs. Nature abhors two things: violence and a vacuum. The sun does not break out at once into the glare of the meridian. The diurnal flowers unfold themselves by slow degrees; nor fleetest beast, nor sprightliest bird, leap at once from his resting-place. By all which we mean to say that as no physiological truth is more demonstrable than that the brain and with it the whole nervous system is recuperated by sleep, it is of the first importance, as to the wellbeing of the human system, that it have its fullest measure of it; and to that end, the habit of retiring to bed early should be made im EARLY RISING VS. EARLY RETIRING.-Health and long life are almost universally associated with early rising; and we are pointed to countless old people as evidence of its good effect on the general system. Can any one of our readers on the spur of the moment give a good conclusive reason why health should be attributed to the habit? We know that old people get up early, but it is simply because they can't sleep. Moderate old age does not require much sleep; hence, in the aged, early rising is a necessity, or convenience, and it is not a cause of health in itself. There is a larger class of early risers, very early risers, who may be truly said not to have a day's health in a year-to thirsty folks, for example, who drink liquor till mid-perative on all children, and no ordinary event should night and rise early to get more! One of our earliest recollections is that of "soakers" making their "devious way" to the grog-shop or tavern bar-room, before sunrise, for their morning grog. Early rising, to be beneficial, must have two concomitants: to retire early, and on rising to be properly employed. One of the most eminent divines in this country rose by daylight for many years, and at the end of that time became an invalid, has traveled the world over for health and has never regained it. It is rather an early retiring that does the good, by keeping people out of those mischievous practices which darkness favors, and which need not here be more particularly referred to. Another important advantage of retiring early is, that the intense stillness of midnight and the early morning hours favor that unbroken repose which is the all-powerful renovator of the tired system. Without, then, the accompaniment of retiring early, "early rising" is worse than useless, and is positively mischievous. Every person should be allowed to "have his sleep out; otherwise, the duties of the day can not be properly performed, and will be necessarily slighted, even by the most conscientious. To all young persons, to students, to the sedentary, and to invalids, the fullest sleep that the system will take, without artificial means, is the balm of lifewithout it, there can be no restoration to health and activity again. Never wake up the sick or infirm, or young children, of a morning-it is a barbarity; let them wake of themselves; let the care rather be to establish an hour for retiring, so early that their fullest sleep may be out before sunrise. Another item of very great importance is, do not hurry up the young and the weakly. It is no advantage to pull them out of bed as soon as their eyes are open, nor is it best for the studious or even for the well, who have passed an unusually fatiguing day, to jump out of bed the moment they wake up; let them be allowed to interfere with it. Its moral healthfulness is not less important than its physical. Many a young man, many a young woman, has taken the first step toward degradation, and crime, and disease, after ten o'clock at night; at which hour, the year round, the old, the middle-aged, and the young, should be in bed, and the early rising will take care of itself, with the incalculable accompaniment of a fully-rested body and a renovated brain. We repeat it, there is neither wisdom, nor safety, nor health, in early rising in itself; but there are all of them in the persistent practice of retiring at an early hour, Winter and Summer.Hall's Journal of Health. THE BEST OF ALL SCHOOLS.-The fireside is a seminary of infinite importance. It is important because it is universal, and because the education it bestows, being woven in with the woof of childhood, gives form and color to the whole texture of life. There are few who can receive the honors of a college, but all are graduates of the hearth. The learning of the university may fade from the recollection, its classic lore may molder in the halls of memory, but the simple lessons of home, enameled upon the heart of childhood, defy the rust of years, and outlive the more mature but less vivid pictures of after years. So deep, so lasting, indeed, are the impressions of early life, that you often see a man in the imbecility of age holding fresh in his recollection the events of his childhood, while all the wide space between that and the present hour is a blasted and forgotten waste. You have, perchance, seen an old and obliterated portrait, and in the attempt to have it cleaned and restored, you have seen it fade while a brighter and more perfect picture, painted beneath, is revealed to view. This portrait, first drawn upon the canvas, is no faint illustration of youth; and though it may be concealed by the after design, still the original traits will shine through the outward pic ture, giving it tone while fresh, and surviving it in decay. Such is the fireside-the great institution of Providence for the education of man.-Goodrich. A GOOD MOTHER. She is a good mother who brings up her children to work-to work in the kitchen, if you please. We shall never have good puddings and pies, chowders and fricassees, while the ladies are taught that it is a disgrace to learn to cook. The time may not come when the daughters of wealth shall be obliged to take their stand in the kitchen-but should they not know how to bake and wash? What is a young woman fit for whose mother allows her to lie in bed till ten o'clock; and who, when she rises, sings a song or two, and sits down to the last new novel? She may answer for the wife of a wealthy fop; and a miserable life-miserable indeed-will she live. Far better for her, no matter what her condition in after life may be-whether she marries a fortune in gold, or a fortune of real worth-if she is brought up to work. Her life in comparison to one brought up in idleness and folly, would be a season of real enjoy ment, and the influence she exerted would be glorious indeed. What mother will be so unwise as to teach her daughters that to work is degrading, while lying in bed, dressing in fashion, and reading mere trash, is elevating and dignifying? " THE BEAUTY OF OLD PEOPLE.-Men and women make their own beauty, or their own ugliness. Lord Lytton speaks in one of his novels, of a man who was uglier than he had any business to be;" and if he could but read it, every human being carries his life in his face, and is good-looking or the reverse as that life has been good or evil. On our features the fine chisel of thought and emotion are eternally at work. Beanty is not the monopoly of blooming young men and of the white and pink maids. There is a slowgrowing beauty, which only comes to perfection in old age. Grace belongs to no period of life, and goodness improves the longer it exists. I have seen sweeter smiles on a lip of seventy than upon a lip of seventeen. There is the beauty of youth, and there is also the beauty of holiness-a beauty much more seldom met: and more frequently found in the arm-chair by the fire, with the grandchildren around its knees, than in the ball-room or promenade. Husband and wife, who have fought the world side by side, who have made common stock of joy and sorrow, and aged together, are not unfrequently found curiously alike in personal appearance, and in pitch and tone of voicejust as twin pebbles on the beach, exposed to the same tidal influences, are each other's second self. He has gained a feminine something, which brings his manhood into full relief. She has gained a masculine something, which acts as a foil to her womanhood. A BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE TO A WIFE.-Sir James Mackintosh, the historian, was married to Miss Catherine Stewart, a young Scotch lady. After her death he thus depicted her character in a letter to a friend: "I was guided in my choice only by the blind affections of my youth. I found an intelligent companion and a tender friend, a prudent monitress, the most faithful of wives, and a mother as tender as children ever had the misfortune to lose. I met a woman who, by tender management of my weakness, gradually cor rected the most pertinacious of them. She became prudent from affection; and though of the most gener ous nature, she was taught frugality and economy by her love for me. During the most critical period of my life, she relieved me. She gently reclaimed me from dissipation; she propped my weak and irresolute nature; she urged my indolence to all the exertions that have been useful and creditable to me, and she was perpetually at hand to admonish my heedlessness or improvidence. To her I owe whatever I am; to her whatever I shall be. In her solicitude for my interest she never for a moment forgot my feelings or charac Even in her occasional resentment, for which I ter. but too often gave her cause-would to God I could recall those moments!-she had no sullenness or acrimony. Her feelings were warm, nay, impetuous; but she was placable, tender, and constant. Such was she whom I have lost, when her excellent natural sense was rapidly improving, after eight years' struggle and distress had bound us fast together and molded our tempers to each other; when a knowledge of her worth had refined my youthful love into friendship, and before age had deprived it of much of its original ardor. I lost her, alas! the choice of my youth and the partner of my misfortunes, at a moment when I had the prospect of her sharing my better days." FEMALE PURITY.-They know little of human nature who know not that more of moral education may be conveyed in a glance of a mother's eye, than in a whole course of reading and writing, under educational sergeants in primary schools and gymnasia. Of all the virtues, that which the domestic family education of both the sexes most obviously influences that which marks more clearly than any other the moral condition of a society, the home-state of moral and religious principles, the efficiency of those principles in it, and the amount of that moral restraint upon passions and impulses, which it is the object of education and knowledge to attain-is undoubtedly female purity.-Christian Treasury. MODESTY-True modesty is true humility put into flecting. and are easily driven hither and thither by the practice. It is not the virtue of persons who are unreuntutored instincts and hasty impulses of their nature. On the contrary, the person of solid merits and ripe thought is more likely to be modest and retiring than the man of trifling pursuits, of imperfect education, and unmistakable mediocrity. This does not happen because the great man is ignorant of his great powers, or the good man of his good qualities. TO THE HUSBAND.-The frail being by thy side is of finer mold; keener her sense of pain, of wrong, greater her love of tenderness. How delicately turned her heart; each ruder breath upon its strings complains in lowest notes of sadness, not heard, but felt. It wears away her life like a deep under-current, while the fair mirror of the changing surface gives not one sigh cf woe. "Speak kindly to her. Little dost thou know WITTY AND WISE. BLASPHEMY REBUKED.-When Napoleon was about to invade Russia, a person who had endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, finding he could not prevail, quoted to him the proverb, "Man proposes, but God disposes;" to which he indignantly replied, "I dispose as well as propose." A Christian lady, hearing the impious boast, remarked, "I set that down as the turning point of Napoleon's fortunes. God will not suffer a creature thus with impunity to usurp his pre-. rogative." It happened just as the lady had predicted-Napoleon's invasion of Russia was the commencement of his fall. A SLEEPING CHRISTIAN." The devil," says Luther, "held a great anniversary, at which his emissaries were convened to report the results of their several missions." "I let loose the wild beasts of the desert," said one, "on a caravan of Christians, and their bones are now bleaching on the sand," "What of that?" said the devil, "their souls are all saved." "For ten years I tried to get a single Christian asleep," said a third, "and I succeeded and left him so." "Then the devil shouted," continues Luther, "and the night stars of hell sang for joy." A FAITHFUL GRANDSON.-A grandson of General Cass, about thirteen years of age, a very reserved and thoughtful boy, who was accustomed to read the Bible to his grandfather, came into his room one day, and after sitting in a meditative mood for some time, looked up earnestly and said, "Grandpa, do you love Jesus?" With some emotion the General replied, "I hope I do, my child, but not as much as I ought." "Well," said the boy, "I will pray for you;" and he arose and left the room. After a short absence he returned and said, with increased earnestness, "Grandpa, I want you to say that you do love Jesus, and not that you hope." The General was quite overcome by the appeal, and related the incident to his daughter with much emotion. TAKING HER AT HER WORD.-The late Rev. Dr. Wightman, of Kirkmahoe, was a simple-minded clergyman of the old school. When a young man he paid his addresses to a lady in the parish, and his suit was accepted on the condition that it met the approbation of the lady's mother. Accordingly the Doctor waited upon the matron, and stating his case, the good woman, delighted at the proposal, passed the usual Scottish compliment," 'Deed, Doctor, you're far ower good for our Janet. I'm sure she's no guid eno' for ye." "Weel, weel," was the rejoinder, "ye ken best, so we 'll say nae mair aboot it." No more was said, and the social intercourse of the parties continued on the same footing as before. About forty years after Dr. Wightman died a bachelor, and the lady an old maid. GOD AND MAMMON.-Mammon's throne was illy served when in Archbishop Whately's presence. He weakened its influence and grasp around rather by the scorch of his caustic wit than by any violent muscular effort to subvert the one or unlock the other. "Many a man," he said, "who may admit it to be impossible to serve God and mammon at one and the same time yet wishes to serve mammon and God; first the one as long as he is able, and then the other." " GOOD FOR EVIL.-Euclid, a disciple of Socrates, having offended his brother, the latter cried out in a rage, Let me die, if I am not revenged on you some time or other." Euclid replied, "And let me die, if I do not soften you by my kindness, and make you love me as well as ever." I WAS MISTAKEN.-A lively writer has said, “'I was mistaken' are the three hardest words to pronounce in the English language." Yet it seems but acknowledging that we are wiser than we were before to see our error, and humbler than we were before to own it. But so it is; and Goldsmith observes, that Frederick the Great did himself more honor by his letter to his senate, stating that he had just lost a great battle by his own fault, than by all the victories he had won. Perhaps our greatest perfection here is, not to escape imperfections, but to see and acknowledge, and lament aud correct them.-Jay. A DANGEROUS PRECEDENT.-The best case which I have seen of Law versus Justice and Common-Sense, is one which Montaigne relates as having happened in his own days. Some men were condemned to death for murder: the judges were then informed by the officers of an inferior court, that certain persons in their cus tody had confessed themselves guilty of the murder in question, and had told so circumstantial a tale that the fact was placed beyond all doubt. Nevertheless, it was deemed so bad a precedent, to revoke a sentence and show that the Law could err, that the innocent men were delivered over to execution. THE WAY A WIFE PUTS IT." You may be as affec tionate as you please, dear," said a wife to her husband who was fond of her and wine too, "and you may smell of wine if you will; but please not to smell of wine and be affectionate at the same moment. I value your affection too highly to let you disgust me with it." COULD NOT TAKE IT.-A clergyman was endeavoring to instruct one of his Sunday school scholars, a plow-boy, on the nature of a miracle. Thinking he had made it plain, "Now, boy, suppose you should see the sun rise in the middle of the night, what would you call it?" "The moon, sir." "No; but suppose that you knew it was not the moon, but the sun, and that you saw it actually rise in the middle of the night, what should you think?" "I should think it was time to get up, sir." JUVENILE PRECOCITY.-A little girl of this city, who is acknowledged by all to be pretty smart, was holding a very animated conversation with one of it was overheard, and it appeared to be a dispute as to about her own years, a few days since. A portion of what their "mothers could do." After naming over various meritorious acts of which their maternals were capable, the one in question put an end to the dispute by exclaiming, "Well, there's one thing my mother can do that yours can 't-my mother can take every one of her teeth out at once." |