Be kind to thy sister-not many may know
The depth of true sisterly love;

The wealth of the ocean lies fathoms below

The surface that sparkles above.

Thy kindness shall bring to thee many sweet hours,
And blessings thy pathway to crown;

Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers,
More precious than wealth or renown.

MR

LESSON XXXIII.

A GREAT VICTORY.

R. ARNOLD had taught his son to go and return directly, when sent on an errand. Gilbert was very obedient in this, as well as other respects; but one day, partly because he desired to know the reasons of things, and partly because of his habit of asking questions, he said to Mr. Arnold, " Papa, why do you never allow me to stop and play with the boys, or see things, when you send me on an errand?”

"I think it strange," said Mr. Arnold, "that you should ask such a question. The matter is plain enough, without any reason."

"Why, I don't think so, papa," replied Gilbert.

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Suppose I send you to the post-office for a letter, and you stop to play on the way, and keep me waiting, when I wish to go elsewhere and attend to some business is there no harm in that ?”

:

"Yes, papa; but I should not stop if I knew you were waiting, and wished to go any where."

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Suppose I did not wish to go any where when you started, but in the meantime a gentleman calls for me to go with him somewhere, and I wish to receive the letter first; you say to yourself, Papa is in no hurry, so I will play a little :' would no inconvenience arise in that case?"

"If such a thing should happen, you might come after me," said Gilbert; not perceiving, in the earnestness of his desire not to be silenced, the impropriety of the remark.

"I think I could be better employed than in running after boys under such circumstances. By a strict adherence to the rule, all inconvenience and trouble would be avoided."

"If I got a letter, I see that I ought to come right home with it; but if I didn't get one, I might stop a little while. I couldn't keep papa waiting for what I hadn't got."

Gilbert thought this was rather witty, though he suspected it was not very sound reasoning.

"There is a great difference between keeping your father waiting for a letter, and keeping him waiting to know whether he had one or not, isn't there?"

"No," said Gilbert, rather crest-fallen; but returning to the charge, he said, "but sometimes I could be sure papa wouldn't have to wait for me: what harm could there be in my stopping a little while then?"

"You never can be perfectly sure. If it were left to your judgment, you would sometimes judge erroneously. The only sure way to avoid all trouble and

difficulty is, when you are sent on an errand, to go directly, do it faithfully, and return immediately.”

"Well, papa, that is the rule I will always follow." "I once knew a great misfortune occasioned by a boy who reasoned as you have been doing. He was sent for a letter. This was in the morning. He got the letter from the office, and was coming home, when he met a party of boys, flying their kites. He wished to join them, and did so, saying to himself, Father is away off in the field at work, and won't come home till noon. He won't get the letter till noon if I go right home, so there will be no harm in my stopping for a while.' The boys soon left the street for a neighbouring hill, where the wind blew fairer; and then they went to one still higher and more distant. The boy who had the letter went with them. In the mean time, a man from a neigbouring township came for his father. He went into the field where he was at work, and wished him to go with him without delay. The father did not wish to go till he had seen the letter he had sent for. He wondered his son did not come with it. He waited for a little while, and then went to the office himself. He found the letter had been taken out by his son, but he did not find his son. He was obliged to go without it, leaving directions to have it sent to him by the next mail. It was sent, but it reached him one day too late. If he had received it the day it was taken out of the office, he could have attended to the business it contained in time. The consequence was, the loss of a law-suit in which he was engaged, and a large part of his property. He died a few years

afterwards; and, when his will was opened, it was found that he had bequeathed his son a kite, and the remainder of his property to his daughters."

A few days after the above related conversation, Mr. Arnold directed Gilbert to go to the store, and purchase a gimlet for him.

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Papa," said he, as he was about to set out, "shall you want it immediately?"

"I shall not use it till afternoon," said his father. He did not tell Gilbert to come back immediately, for he knew the rule; but he felt a little anxious in consequence of the question, lest he should stop, especially as it was holiday with the village school. He said nothing, however, which intimated suspicion or distrust.

Gilbert went to the store and purchased the gimlet. On his return he met a troop of boys in martial array. There was the captain with a real captain's hat and plume, which a good-natured militia officer had lent him, and the drummer with a very respectable drum. These were the two most attractive members of the company. They had no fifer, but then a boy who "whistled uncommonly well" undertook to supply his place. Their flag bore the motto "Liberty or Death." When they marched their step was not quite as regular as that of regular troops, and if they did not look very fierce they looked very happy.

Gilbert was at once solicited to enlist in this valorous army, and he felt a very strong desire to do so. His military spirit was roused. He felt constrained to decline. He was offered promotion. "Come, now," said the captain, ""list, and you shall be a serjeant."

"I can't," said Gilbert.

"Yes you can, if you have a mind. You shall carry the flag if you will."

This was a very tempting offer, and Gilbert almost cried as he declined it. It was well he did decline it, for otherwise the captain's authority might have been put in peril; for when the standard-bearer heard the offer he grasped it more tightly, and plainly showed by his manner that he would part with it only with his life.

"I must go home now," said Gilbert, "but I will ask my father; and if he will let me I will come." "Better make sure of it now," said the fifer, or rather the whistler; "it is more than probable he won't let you come."

"What have you to take home?" said the captain. Gilbert told him.

"Your father won't want it yet a while; so you can stay well enough."