The Peaches.

If you have occasion to reprove a selfish disposition, and encourage kind and benevolent feelings and acts, read the following story, from the Ger

man:

66 WHO DID THE BEST WITH HIS PEACH.

"On returning from the city, one day, a gentleman took home with him five of the finest peaches he could procure. He divided them among his four children, retaining one for their mother. The children rejoiced over them exceedingly.

"In the evening, before the children retired to their chamber, the father questioned them by asking, 'How did you like the soft, rosy peaches?'

"Very much indeed, dear father,' said the eldest boy; it is a beautiful fruit, so soft and nice to the taste! I have preserved the stone, that I may cultivate a tree.'

"Right, and bravely done,' said the father; 'that speaks well for regarding the future with care, and is becoming in a young husbandman.'

"I have eaten mine and thrown the stone away,' said the youngest; 'besides, mother gave me half of hers. O, it tasted so sweet, and so melting in my mouth!"

"Indeed,' answered the father; thou hast not been prudent. However, it was very natural and childlike, and displays wisdom enough for your years.'

666

"I have picked up the stone,' said the second son, which my brother threw away, cracked it, and

2

Acting a Lie.

eaten the kernel; it was as sweet as a nut to the taste; but my peach I have sold for so much money, that, when I go to the city, I can buy twelve of them.' "The parent shook his head reprovingly, saying, 'Beware, my boy, of avarice. Prudence is all very well, but such conduct as yours is unchildlike and unnatural. Heaven guard thee, my child, from the fate of a miser.'

"And you, Edmund?' asked the father, turning to his third son, who frankly and openly replied, 'I have given my peach to the son of our neighbor,

the sick George, who has had the fever. He would not take it, so I left it on his bed, and I have just come away.'

"Now,' said the father, who has done the best with his peach?

"Brother Edmund!' the three exclaimed aloud; 'Brother Edmund!'

"Edmund was still and silent, and the mother kissed him, with tears of joy in her eyes."

If you discover a disposition to evade the truth, to act the false part, read the following story, and lead your pupils to feel that they may be quite as guilty for acting lies, or withholding the truth, as in uttering the lie direct. In some cases it may even be more mean.

"Why, Alfred, how could you tell mother that wrong story?' said Lucy Somers to her brother. "You know you did eat one of the apples that was in the fruit-dish, yet you told mother you did not.'

True Obedience.

"Now, Lucy, I did n't tell any lie about it at all,' said Alfred. Mother asked me if I took one of the apples from the dish, and I said, No. And that was true, for the apple rolled off from the top of the dish, when I hit the table, and I picked it from the floor. Mother did not ask me if I ate one, but if I took one from the dish. So you see I got along finely with it, and told nothing but the truth.'”

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Can you not make such a story the medium of good moral impressions, and cause your pupils to feel that, if they would appear truthful to Him who knows the heart, they must live and act the truth, as well as speak it?

Sometimes boys do forbidden acts, relying on the kindness of their parents, or teachers, for overlooking the error. Read to them the following:

"A boy was once tempted, by some of his companions, to pluck some ripe cherries from a tree, which his father had forbidden him to touch.

"You need not be afraid,' said one of them, 'for if your father should find out that you had taken them, he is so kind that he would not punish you.'

"That is the very reason,' replied the noble boy, 'why I will not touch them. It is true my father would not hurt me, but I know my disobedience would hurt my father, and that would punish me more than anything else.""

In endeavoring to make correct moral impressions by repeating particular texts of Scripture, be

Anecdote.

sure that the spirit of the quotation is comprehended. The following will show how wide of the true meaning the young will sometimes strike.

"A little boy, getting angry with his sister in their play, struck her. She cried out, Ma, ma, budder knock me! budder knock me!"

"O well, my daughter,' said the mother, 'don't mind it! Just run up and kiss your little brother, and heap coals of fire upon his head.'

"The little girl ran up and kissed her brother, and then said, 'Where is the shovel, now? where is the shovel?'

"This, we apprehend, is by no means a peculiar perversion of the moral teachings of Christ.”

If you can instil into the hearts of your pupils a true regard for truth, so that not only all their words, but all their acts, shall bear the impress of truthfulness and honesty, you will accomplish much in the right direction. I have sometimes thought teachers erred in being unduly suspicious of their pupils, exhibiting a lack of confidence in them. It is better, unless a pupil has really deceived you, and forfeited all claim to your respect, to confide in him, and cause him to feel that you consider him as incapable of doing a wrong or unworthy act. It is better to confide and occasionally be deceived, than never to confide.

Never tempt a child to tell an untruth, or to give a false reason for an act. This may be done in various ways, but more frequently through fear of

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Wordsworth's Views.

threatened punishment. Cause a child to feel that deception and prevarication are always despicable,

and that any one guilty of them deserves punishment, and, at the same time, lead him to feel that a full and candid confession of an error is alike right and manly. Children do and say many things for which they can give no good reason, and parents and teachers often tempt them to give a false reason by unduly insisting upon having some reason for an act performed, or an expression made. Wordsworth has thus beautifully expressed the same idea in the following

METRICAL LESSON.

"I have a boy of five years old;

His face is fair and fresh to see;

His limbs are cast in beauty's mould,
And dearly he loves me.

"One morn we strolled on our dry walk
Our quiet home all full in view,
And held such intermitted talk
As we are wont to do.

"My thoughts on former pleasures ran;
I thought of Kilve's delightful shore,
Our pleasant home when Spring began,
A long, long year before.

"A day, it was, when I could bear
Some fond regrets to entertain;
With so much happiness to spare,
I could not feel a pain.

"The green earth echoed to the feet

Of lambs, that bounded through the glade,

From shade to sunshine, and as fleet

From sunshine back to shade.