if she asks me about it when I get home, I will tell her I don't know anything about it. I am not going to get another headache, and spend another holiday afternoon in my room."

When Ella returned from school, her room, and questioned her about the ink.

mother called her to her "I don't know anything

about it, mother. I was playing in the garden all the morning, and did not go into the room but once, and then only to get my satchel of books, which hung in its place. I think pussy might have done it, for I saw her running about the room."

"Well," said the mother, "possibly she might have done it. I remember, when I opened the door, she hurried past me. I must have puss attended to." Upon this, Ella bounded into the garden, rejoicing at her escape, and congratulating herself in language something like this: "I was a lucky girl; didn't I get off nicely? Well, I shall know how to fix it next time. But it is not right; O dear, I know it is not right; but what could I do? If mother had not scolded me so harshly about breaking the japonica, I should have told her the truth. I know I was a naughty, careless girl, and deserved scolding; and if she had only scolded me kindly, that is, more gently, I should have told all to-day. I know it is wrong to tell a lie, but I could not bear the thought of spending another such afternoon in my little room."

What would have been that mother's feeling had she known all? SCENE THIRD. This very afternoon Ella spent with Amelia Peneman, a little friend of hers. While there, Amelia met with an accident similar to the one of the japonica; but we will let her tell her own story. Some time in the afternoon, the two little girls hurried into the parlor, where Mrs. Peneman was, almost out of breath. Amelia exclaimed, "Mamma, only see what I have done!" upon which she laid a large double variegated dahlia in her lap. "I have broken your beautiful dahlia. I am sorry, mother, and I was careless about it, too. I was going down the walk, swinging my bonnet by the strings, and talking so busily with Ella, that I did not notice where I was, or what I was doing, till this beautiful flower fell. I am very sorry, mamma.” As she uttered this, she laid her head in her mother's lap and wept. "But that is not all. I know it will make you feel badly when I tell you I thought of deceiving you. The thought came into my mind that if I let the flower lie in the walk, you might think the wind broke it

off, or that somebody else did it. Then I thought how often you had told me it was wrong to deceive, and how kindly you talk to me when I tell you of my naughty actions and faults. Will you forgive me, mamma ?”

Mrs. Peneman drew the little girl to her side. "Amelia, my dear, I am very, very sorry you have broken this beautiful flower; but I should rather have all my dahlias spoiled than that you should deceive me, or tell an untruth. I should have found it out soon, if I had not seen you do it. There is little wind this afternoon, not enough to break this flower; besides, I knew you was playing in the garden, and should have asked you about it; and if you had denied it, I should have known you were telling a falsehood, for I saw you do it. I was at my chamber window, and saw you swinging your bonnet, and was upon the point of calling to you to tell you that you would break the flower if you were not careful, when it fell to the ground. I then concluded not to say anything about it, but leave you free to act as you thought best. I thank God that he gave you grace to overcome temptation. 0, my dear! never deceive or tell an untruth. By so doing you may escape punishment for the time, but 'God sees you,' and your sin will find you out. I trust you will learn a lesson from the breaking of this flower, and always speak the truth, even though it may be against you. Now, my dear, put the dahlia in water, possibly it will keep bright till Aunt Lizzie comes; and then you may go to the garden again, if you will be careful and do no more mischief. Don't swing your bonnet by the strings in any place; it will only injure it.”

"Mamma, I will not swing it in the garden again, for if I begin, the thoughts of this broken dahlia will spring up in my mind and stop me." With tearful eyes, this little one kissed her mother, again promised to be careful, and again begged her to forgive her, saying, "I am so sorry, mamma!”

Ella witnessed the whole scene. In her mind she drew the contrast between the broken japonica and broken dahlia, and between the method of punishment for each offence. Every word ́ about truth and deception sunk into her heart. She thought of the ink and sighed. This lesson was not lost upon Ella, for she resolved to tell the truth, let whatever might be the consequence; and when she went home she told her mother of the broken dahlia and of the spilled ink, and why she had told a falsehood about it.

That mother gathered instruction from the recital, and never again did she reprove Ella so sharply for a trifling fault, or punish her till she had thoroughly investigated the matter.

Do not parents sometimes injure their children by punishing a slight fault with greater severity than it really deserves? There are times when severe punishment may seem necessary; then inflict it; but let it be tempered with calmness, and not administered in anger, nor until after the case has been thoroughly examined. We all know that kind and gentle words sink very deep into the tender hearts of children.

A YEAR FROM TO-DAY.

BY B. J. SPRAGUE.

"A YEAR from to-day! Where shall I be? In heaven? God only knows." Such was the language of one whom God in his providence had seen fit sorely to afflict, in depriving of a dearly beloved sister. Long and lingering had been the illness of that sister, and dark indeed to her who remained was the hour when her eyelids closed in death. Yet not long had she to tread alone this gloomy vale. One month passed by, and side by side the sisters lay. Rest they in heaven? God only knows.

One year from to-day! Glad, yet solemn words. How dread to every one this thought of the future! How full of hope, and yet of fear how full! How variegated this mantle which enshrouds the future! One year from to-day! Who can tell the results it shall bring to us, of gladness, sorrow, joy, or woe? Ah! even less than that, and we may be in eternity, the clay-cold clod may have entombed us, and we may have become the nourishment of the worm on which we careless tread.

One year from to-day! Is not the thought to you, dear reader, one of great and fearful import? Does not the question come to your mind, "Where shall I be?"

Are you a Christian parent? If so, God has entrusted to you a great charge, and placed upon you great responsibilities, and upon your action may hang results the most momentous. The germ of an immortal mind is yours. It has been implanted by the

Eternal, and is now entrusted to you as his steward. It is yours to guide, yours to instruct, yours to bless, and thereby to bless the world. To you is entrusted the culture of this immortal part, in that most teachable of all periods of human life, the infancy of its being. "Give me," says an ancient infidel, "the first ten years of a child's training, and I care not what afterward shall be its instructions." He knew well the weight of first teachings on the youthful mind. He knew well the power of the parent, and that its voice could impress principles on the breast which, though they may be in a measure overcome in the cold conflicts of the world, yet can never be wholly eradicated. It is in your power to mould, form and fashion this immortal as you desire. What, then, as a Christian parent, is your duty? Ask yourself the question, and answer it before the bar of your own conscience and your God. In these days of religious and Sabbath-school privileges, it is much to be feared lest the instructions belonging to parents should be entrusted to ministers and teachers, rather than to make it a duty of personal responsibility. Think not that others are more competent than yourself. Let not Satan delude you by such thoughts. None can teach as you can. None can press home upon the heart and conscience the subject of religion with the tenderness and affection of a loving parent. You may have lived these many years, and never have given a word of religious instruction to your child. child. But this solemn duty cannot be delegated to another. Whatever be the age or situation of your child, it is your duty, as a parent, to know its religious feeling.

Have you never conversed with your child of its soul's salvation? Have you never warned him of vice and sin, and pointed out the path to heaven? Where may you be a year hence? You are now permitted to pray with that child, and perhaps may be instrumental of its salvation; but before this year's end, God may have taken that which he hath given, or have hushed the parent's voice, and silenced forever its teachings, save as they come up from the cold covering of the grave. Let it then, with the commencement of this new year, be thy first care now to give those counsels which shall never be forgot, and to impart those instructions which can never die.

Are you a Christian, and is thy prospect of an eternal day still brightening as thy years glide past? Then truly blessed art thou,

though it may have been written against thee, "This year shall thy body die, and thy soul commence its eternal year!" Live, O Christian, as if thou knew a year from this time you should be in heaven. Live as a Christian, imparting that instruction which the counsels and daily walk and conversation of a Christian only can impart. Many a "happy new year" greeting has gladdened thy household hearth. Let this, by thy holy life, be a "happy new year," should it prove thy last on earth.

But if not a Christian, can this be to thee a "happy new year? Canst thou be happy so long as thou sharest the bounty of thy Lord, but never returnest the prayer of thankfulness? Happy, when thou livest on his goodness, and yet livest under his curse for thy sins? Impossible! Ask thy own conscience, Where should I be, not a year or a month hence, but to-day, should I now be called into judgment? God not only knows, but thou also, that thy eternal condemnation would be just.

Remember, as thou enterest on this year, thou hast no surety to behold its close. Remember, thou treadest nearer than thou ever before hast on the confines of eternity, and that the revolution of one short year, month or day, yes, the next moment, may land you in eternal bliss or woe. Haste, then, and make this thy happy new year, the year of thy happy choice of God as thy Father and eternal portion.

ADVICE IN LOVE.

BY MRS. S. A. B. CURRIER.

ARE there any sick in your midst? Then go, as an angel of mercy, and soothe their pains. Bathe the fevered temples, and moisten, with a draught from the rippling fountain, the parched lips. Whisper in the ear of suffering, "Jesus lives."

Seest thou the mourner? Extend the hand of sympathy to the smitten one. Let freely fall thy tears, and listen to the tale of woe. The cup of grief, perchance, thou mayst mitigate, and cause the heart, bleeding with anguish, to bury its sorrows in the bosom of its Saviour.

Seest one in adversity? Encourage him to look for the morning,