say this comes, she would add, from my not being dressed any better."

"Dear sister, he would reply, I think you have comfortable clothes, and if they are not whole and neat, that must be your own fault, since you know well, how to wash and mend. You must consider, what a great favour it is, that uncle and aunt should thus stand in the place of parents. For how many orphans like us, suffer for want of food and raiment.

"If you are not quite as well dressed, as those around you, just put on a pleasanter face, and sweeter manners than they, to make up the difference. These are things that the poor can have, as well as the rich. They cost no money, but they bring what money will not always buy; good-will, and love from those we associate with."

"Edward, I declare you are equal to our old minister, for preaching. I hear preaching enough at home. When I see you, I should like to be entertained." "Is there any better entertainment than good counsel, dear sister?

"But it is time for me to go, as the bell will ring for nine, before I get home." And as he bade her good night, and kissed her, he whispered in her ear, "keep this text in your heart, to remember me by, till we meet again, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

As Edward advanced in the knowledge of his business, a yearly allowance was made him, for his clothing; and he was delighted to economize, that he might have it in his power, to show his love for his sister, by some appropriate gift. This was often in the form of an useful and instructive book.

On her sixteenth birth-day, he brought her a beautiful Bible, in which many passages were marked with his pencil, bespeaking her particular attention. For he thought it the duty of a good brother, to seek the welfare of his sister, not only in this life, but in that which is to come.

Often did he urge her, in the most affectionate terms, to strive for the consolations of true religion, and trust in an Almighty Protector. "I wish I could but live with you, Edward, she would reply. Then, I have no doubt, I should be always good."

This wish was nearer its accomplishment, than she had anticipated. Such was Edward's good conduct, and knowledge of business, that, at the age of twenty-one, his master proposed to take him as a partner; and as there had been long a mutual attachment, between him, and his daughter, he consented to their union, and the marriage soon took place.

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It was an unspeakable pleasure to Edward, to receive his sister to his comfortable, and neatly-furnished home, and to perceive that she, and his amiable young wife, cherished an affection for each other. "Our fire-side is yours, Julia," he said. But, remember," he playfully added, "your promise, to be always good if you lived with me. I shall hold you to it. For your improvement and happiness are as dear to me, as my own."

Her brother's example, the devotion of his prayers, at the family-altar,-his affectionate, consistent deportment, his desire to do good to all, and the serenity of his temper, amid the little perplexities of life, awakened a desire to imitate him, and to obtain

that piety, which he mentioned as the source of his peace and hope.

Constant effort, and prayer for divine aid, wrought a change in her character. Her irritable disposition seemed to have passed away. To her uncle and aunt, whose care, while with them, she had never fully appreciated, and whose strictness, she too often misunderstood, she now studied to give proofs of her attachment and gratitude.

When any remarked, how visibly her better qualities were unfolding, she meekly replied, "My good brother is my teacher." But he answered, "I think she is taught by the good Spirit of our God."

Years of happiness were the portion of the good brother, and his family. Little ones rose up around his table like olive-plants, and of these, aunt Julia made herself the instructor and friend. It was her ambition to be assured that next to the father and mother, she was the object of their love.

But her constitution, which had been always delicate, showed symptoms of early decay. Her flesh wasted, and a hollow cough alarmed her affectionate relatives. The good physician who had attended her in her desolate childhood, visited her daily.

Soon the red hectic sat upon her cheek, and it was but too evident, that the deadly consumption had made her its victim. Edward procured a light carriage, and on every fine summer's day, took her to ride among the scenery that she loved.

As he was seen driving slowly, and carefully, lest the wheels passing over a stone, might agitate the wasted invalid, or bending down to hear some remark made in her faint, broken tones, pitying neigh

bours and friends, would bless his untiring sympathy, and say, that the ministry of the good brother was almost over upon earth.

It was during these excursions, so sweet, and mournful, that the failing one, poured into her brother's ear, the fulness of her love and trust in her Redeemer. The thought of parting with her, lost its bitterness, when he heard her say that death came as a friend.

"Life is lovely," she added, with her faint voice. "You have made it so. But heaven is brighter. And you first pointed me there. If God permit, I will be near you, when I have angel's wings. I will bear you up in my hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone."

arms.

When the last hour came, he supported her in his She tenderly embraced his wife, thanking her for her love, and kissed the little children with her cold, white lips.

Leaning her head on the shoulder of him who sustained her, she gasped long and painfully, ere she could say, "brother, dear brother, farewell. You have been father and mother to me. You led me to the Saviour. Lord, I come! I come!"

The pangs of death shook her sore. "Pray! Pray! once more for me," she entreated. And her brother, kneeling by the bed, prayed that her passage through the dark valley, might be made easy.

Then the lips of the dying, moved as if in prayer, and a light of joy came over her face. Those who bent over the pillow, heard the name of "Great Redeemer." But her last whisper was "brother, good brother." And her spirit ascended.

GRATITUDE TO TEACHERS.

THANK every person, who confers on you an obligation. Remember all acts of kindness. Cultivate a grateful disposition. To forget favours, or treat with indifference those who have shown them to you are great faults. Even savages despise ingratitude. Some have rendered you services that you can never hope to repay. Your parents have, and every day adds to the debt. Other persons have given you gifts, which you are not able to return. Treasure these in your memory, and ask God to requite them.

Number among your benefactors, those who have given you good advice. But especially, place in the highest rank, those who have laboured to instruct you. For as knowledge is one of the most precious gifts, your teachers are among your best benefactors.

Be attentive to their precepts, and docile to their commands. After you are removed from their immediate care, speak of them with grateful remembrance. Wherever you meet them, show them a marked respect. "Esteem them very highly in

love, for their work's sake."

Never lay up in your mind, any unpleasant cir. cumstances which may have occured at school. Take only the sweet kernel of the nut, and throw the rough husk away. It is one characteristic of a good boy to love his teachers, and be beloved by them. And he who continues through life, to treat