In the school to which Matilda went, a particular seat was not set apart for each of the pupils. They were at liberty to choose for themselves. Those who came first to the school-house in the morning, took such seats for the day as pleased them.

Matilda, therefore, did not tell the exact truth when she said that Susan took her seat; for as Susan arrived at the school-house first, she had a right to take whatever seat she chose.

"Did you ever ask Susan, in a pleasant way, to give you the seat for which you have such a fancy?"

"I don't know that I have asked her: I told her it was mine, and desired her to give it up, but she only laughed at me.”

"That is to say, you ordered her to resign a seat which she had a right to retain, and she laughed at your folly, instead of getting angry as you would have done, if you had been in her place. My dear, you are pursuing a very unwise and sinful course. You displease God, and make yourself disagreeable to all your companions."

"I can't help it."

"Matilda, you know better. You know that you can help it. You know that you are to blame for your feelings-your conscience tells you so."

"I suppose I am to blame for feeling cross, but I don't see how I can help feeling cross, when I am treated so badly. So long as Susan keeps getting my seat, I don't see how I can feel otherwise. I can put my hand on my mouth and not say anything, but I don't see what good that would do."

"It would do a great deal of good, even if it were

true that you could do nothing else. By not speaking, you would avoid stirring up strife, and would be aided in getting control of your feelings. If you feel at any time the rising of anger, and refuse to give it any expression by word or act, it will soon pass away. But, it is not true, that you cannot feel pleasantly towards Susan. Does she never take any other seat but that which you call yours?"

"Yes, mother; yesterday she took Bella Hall's." "What did Bella say?"

"She only smiled as she came in and what do you think?-Susan offered her the seat without her asking for it, and she wouldn't take it. And to-day, Susan would not give up mine when I asked her for it." "Did you ask her, or order her?"

"Why-I told her to give it up."

"Bella Hall, you say, smiled when she saw that Susan had taken her seat. It seems that she did not feel cross. Why is it necessary that you should feel differently from her, in the same circumstances?"

"I don't know-she is always pleasant, and gives way to every body."

"In other words, she keeps an even temper, and obeys the law of kindness; while you suffer your feelings to rise, and rule you without restraint. If you would cultivate and govern your temper, you could take things as pleasantly as Bella does. I wish you to go to your chamber, and think the matter over; consider what will be the effect of the course you are pursuing, on your own happiness and that of your friends; above all, consider how God regards it. I wish you would not leave your room till you are

convinced of the folly and sinfulness of the remark with which our conversation began."

Matilda went to her chamber. At first, she employed herself in seeking for arguments in defence of what she had done and said; but her conscience took up the other side of the question, and showed her that all her arguments were unsound. She next thought of Bella Hall's sweet smile and kind manner towards every body, and of the effect thereof, in securing the respect and love of every body. She compared her own course with Bella's, and came fully to the conclusion, that hers was the wiser and better one. She then thought of the mild, and gentle, and benevolent example of the Saviour when on earth, and she began to feel ashamed and sorry for her sin.

She was now able to see things in their true light. She saw that Susan had a perfect right to take the seat in question, and that she had no right to require her to give it up. She knew that if she had asked Susan for the seat in a polite manner, she would have given it to her very cheerfully. She remembered that Susan had never taken the seat but twice, instead of "always" taking it, as she told her mother. She saw that no one had been to blame but herself. She wept over her folly and guilt. She kneeled down and asked God's forgiveness, and His aid to enable her in future to obey the law of kindness.

She then dried her tears and washed her face, and went down to her mother; but as soon as she saw her, she began to weep again. She threw her arms around her mother's neck, and wept upon her bosom. At length she said "Mother, I have been very

naughty; forgive me, and pray for me, that God may forgive me."

Her mother pressed her to her heart; and wept tears of joy over the repenting sinner.

The next morning, when Matilda reached the school-room, she found Susan in the seat which she had occupied the day before. Susan did not take it for the purpose of vexing Matilda. She designed to take another seat, but one of the girls requested her to sit by her and help her get her lesson.

When Matilda was seen coming, some of the girls said, "Now there will be war again." Matilda came into the school-room in a very quiet manner, and the girls were struck with the sad expression of her countenance. As she passed Susan, on her way to put her bonnet in its place, she looked at her kindly, and tried to smile. Susan read in her countenance the evidence of repentance and of a better mind. With one of her sweetest smiles, she insisted that Matilda should take the seat. Some meaning looks were exchanged by some of the girls, but all treated Matilda with kindness. There is something in the very appearance of repentance which commands respect and sympathy. Matilda persevered in her new course, and reaped the reward of well doing.

BE

LESSON XXXII.

BE KIND.

E kind to thy father-for when thou wert young,
Who loved thee so fondly as he?

He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue,
And joined in thy innocent glee.

Be kind to thy father-for now he is old,

His locks intermingled with gray;

His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold—
Thy father is passing away.

Be kind to thy mother-for lo! on her brow
May traces of sorrow be seen;

Oh, well may'st thou cherish and comfort her now,
For loving and kind she hath been.
Remember thy mother-for thee will she pray,
As long as God giveth her breath;

With accents of kindness then cheer her lone way,
E'en to the dark valley of death.

Be kind to thy brother-his heart will have dearth,
If the smile of thy joy be withdrawn ;
The flowers of feeling will fade at the birth,
If the dew of affection be gone.

Be kind to thy brother-wherever you are
The love of a brother shall be,
An ornament purer and richer by far
Than pearls from the depths of the sea.