"I have always considered it wrong to do any thing that my parents would be unwilling to have me do'," replied Ellen, gravely. Here they reached Louisa's house, and the conversation was dropped.

Louisa had been as well instructed as Ellen', and she understood her duty to her parents as well. The only difficulty was', that she did not always care to perform it. She knew that she had the kindest of parents, and she would not have denied' that they cheerfully allowed her every indulgence that they thought would be for her good. They provided amply for her improvement and amusement. She was abundantly supplied with materials for reading'; but her parents were desirous, as every judicious and considerate parent would have been', that her books should be such as would afford profitable employment for her mind', and to this end', they wished that her reading should be under their own direction. They had no other object than their daughter's good in view, when they withheld from her a book which they supposed would be an injury, rather than a source of improvement', to her. What other possible motive could' they have had'? What reasonable, considerate', daughter would suppose her parents would deny her a gratification, in any case', for any other reason than that they judged it not to be, on the whole', for her interest or happiness'? And with this view, where is the affectionate, dutiful daughter, who would be willing to abuse a parent's kindness by indulging in a gratification which they might wish to withhold'? What can be the feelings of a girl while she is perusing, clandestinely, the pages of a book which she knows that her parents would not wish her to read'? It must be that there is not much thought about it. The time will come, however, with every such individual, when she will be brought to think, with bitterness', of the deceitful or undutiful part which she may now be thoughtlessly practicing.

But to return to Louisa, and the Romance of the Forest. It was not until she had retired for the evening, that she had opportunity to pursue her reading without interruption'; for it would happen, as often as she drew forth the volume', when for a minute she was left to herself in the parlor', that she would be startled by approaching footsteps before scarce a paragraph was finished, and then, with trepidation', the book would be hurried out of sight. But in her room, with

the door fastened', she felt secure. It was a winter's night'; she threw a shawl over her shoulders', and then sat poring over her book', until completely benumbed with the cold. She began by this time to feel a little soreness in her throat', and some uneasy sensations attending her breathing. The book was reluctantly laid aside'; some little palliative was applied for the relief of the throat'; but it was in vain that she tried to sleep'; a violent cold had seized upon her system', and every moment increased. It was a time when distempers of the throat were prevailing, and Louisa was apprehensive that she might be in danger. Her mother's anxiety was greater than her own', when, on entering her room in the morning', she found her feverish, and suffering from a pain in her head and throat.

"You have taken a violent cold," remarked her mother', as she stood bending over her'; "were you exposed in any way yesterday'?”

Louisa hesitated, at first, and then framed some kind of reply which, perhaps, amounted not exactly to a direct falsehood, and yet was not the honest truth. This additional piece of duplicity she had to reflect upon during the days and weeks that she continued ill`; and, until it had been freely confessed and forgiven', it remained a heavy burden on her conscience. The very sight of her mother, from whom she was receiving unceasing attention and kindness', brought to her bosom a feeling of self-reproach', which she tried in vain to banish. She sought the forgiveness of her fault', and resolved, in reliance on the Divine assistance', that she would never again be guilty of acting a deceitful or undutiful part towards the parents who had so high a claim upon her love and obedience. She did' finally recover, and the lesson which she had so dearly learned was faithfully remembered. Perfect openness now characterizes Louisa's manners towards her parents. She feels a greater pleasure in referring every thing to their decision', than ever she received from any stolen gratifications'; and so will any daughter feel who will try the experiment.

Never do any thing which you are unwilling should come to your parent's knowledge-never be guilty of deceiving them in the most trifling case. Undutiful behavior, on the part of children', is not always attended with a punishment like Louisa's'; but this, at least', is certain,-it never goes unpunished. The pangs of remorse and self-reproach are,

sooner or later, to be its punishment', whether there is any other or not.

LESSON III.

FUN.

It seems strange that any person should ever take pleasure in occasioning suffering, of any kind or degree, to any body else. And yet there are many persons whose highest delight seems to be in curtailing somebody's enjoyment. There are a great many boys, for examplé, who would not wish for any better fun, than to have a good chance to plague somebody. There are boys who would rather go without their dinner, than forego the pleasure of pushing a fellow down hill', pulling a chair from under him just as he is about to sit down', or hiding his ball at play. All this is very good fun to the one who performs the feat, and fun is certainly a very good thing'; nobody would wish to deprive boys of fun. But is there not fun enough to be had, without any such means as thesé? Is it ever necessary that one boy should seek his enjoyment at the expense of another'? It certainly is never fair', at any rate. No boy has any more right to put another to pain or trouble, or to deprive him of any enjoyment for the sake of sport for himself', than he has to rob him of any article of his property for the sake of using it.

We are not speaking of what may be termed malicious' kinds of sport, that is', of contrivances for occasioning troublé, for the mere love of inflicting suffering. How any body should find pleasure in such acts as these, is certainly beyond all comprehension. How it was, for example, that James Bennet could find it in his heart, wantonly to trample down William Sterly's melon vines', just for the pleasure of witnessing his mortification and disappointment', when William never did him an injury in his life, is hardly to be accounted for, except by the conclusion that his heart was very wicked.

There are few, comparatively', who would be tricks like this. But how is it with all tricks'? the design of every thing that comes under this

guilty of Is it not name, to

give a little vexation to one of the parties concerned, for the gratification of the other'? And how is there gratification in giving vexation'? It certainly does afford a kind of gratification', or else it would not be so universally practiced. But, as we have already said', it is a very unfair kind of game. Some boys have such dispositions, that it seems they can take delight in real mischief. But, setting these aside, there are few who, if they would try the experiment', would not derive more real enjoyment to themselves from some plan they might devise for increasing the pleasures of their companions', than from any tricks for vexing them. One Saturday afternoon, when hundreds of boys were assembled for play upon the Common', one tall boy, with a bat and ball in his hands', took it into his head to have some fun, as he called it, with a smaller boy, who also carried his bat and ball', but had not found any body to play with. Play with me, will you'?" said the tall boy to the other', putting his own ball in his pocket', and taking that of the other out of his hands. The other agreed'; and the ball was tossed back and forth half a dozen times, when, suddenly', the tall boy gave it a throw behind him' to as great a distance as he could send it', and then ran off exulting to a great degree. The boys around him raised a laugh'; and the poor little fellow, who had been deprived of his ball, stood looking vexed and mortified. After a moment', the tears came into his eyes, as he muttered to himself',-" I'll tell my father of you, sir', you see if I don't.”

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Now, is this what the boys call fûn? Surely, there is enjoyment to be purchased at a much easier rate than that, at which that tall, mean-spirited fellow obtained his'. Suppose he had gone to the boy, in the first place, with the design of having a play with him, as there seemed to be no one else inclined to do it', and had continued the game for half an hour', or until he became tired'; would he not probably have felt quite as well after it, as he did after having mischievously deprived the little fellow of his ball'? He would not have had his laûgh, to be surè; but is there pleasure in nothing but laughter'?

And suppose again', that instead of standing and laughing at the poor boy's vexation', some one of the other boys had come forward, and offered to help him look for his ball'; and thus have done what he coûld, to relieve him from his mortifying predicament'; would not such a boy have enjoy

ed quite as high a satisfaction, as in indulging his inconsiderate merriment'?

Let any boy, who really wishes to enjoy as much from his plays as possible', try some such plan as we will describe. Let him, once in a while, engage', for some afternoon when there is no school', to show some half a dozen or more boys, perhaps younger than himself, to play some good game', or help them make some kites', or some balls', or any other plaything'; and then, when the time comes for using the balls, or flying the kites', let him take notice how they succeed, and show some interest in the business. If the thing is done with a great deal of show, or simply for the sake of acquiring popularity, the motive will be likely to be seen through', and, of course', it will not be liked'; but, if the real object of the boy, in such a case, were to promote the happiness of the others', the enjoyment he would himself realize in the employment would be greater, or, at any rate, it would be more solid and lasting', than any which the most mischievous boy would find in playing his most ingenious tricks.

LESSON IV.

PUNCTUALITY.

EVERY body likes punctuality'; and there is no person who does not get out of patience with negligent, tardy, loitering peoplé, however negligent, tardy, and loitering', he may happen to be himself. I heard Mr. Dilatory say, the other day, that he must be for starting pretty quick, or he should not find Mr. Prompt', for Mr. Prompt never waited a second after the time for any body. "Well," thought I, "that' Mr. Prompt is just the right sort of man, I know." We shall always find it to be the case' that a man, or a boy, who makes it a rule to do every thing in just the right time', is what he ought to be in a thousand other respects."There is my boy all ready to take my horse to the stable,” said a gentleman to his companion', as he approached his house on his return from an afternoon's ride. "I told him to be down here by dark', and I should have been as much surprised not to have found him on the spot', as at the most