Hiding the Truth.

AMES sometimes wanted to be a good boy. He did not always mean to do wrong, and yet he sometimes did wrong because he was afraid of blame or punishment. He was young and little, and sat on the lowest bench in school. On the high bench above him was a big boy who had a very rare inkstand, It was the finest one in the school, and unlike any that James had ever seen. He thought again and again, "Oh, if I could only take it in my hand and look at it;" but its owner would never allow him to touch

it.

He

One day James was alone in the school-room, and it was a good opportunity for him to gratify his long cherished desire. He could take the inkstand in his hand, look at it as much as he pleased, and no one would ever know it. So he climbed up on the high bench, reached it, and held it. It was heavier than he expected to find it, but handsomer too. He examined it thoroughly, and was satisfied. was just putting it back in its place when he heard a noise. He trembled. The inkstand fell. What a moment of agony ! He caught the inkstand; saved it; but alas! the desk was covered with ink, the books and papers too; even his own hand. He sprang back to his low seat, and wiped his hand on the under side of his brown apron. He could not wipe off all the ink; the stain was there. He rubbed it very hard again and again, but it was still there, and he hid his hand in his pocket. His sense of wrong, his regret for the ruin the ink had made, and fear of reproof and punishment filled him with distress.

When the teacher came in and saw what had been done she at once asked Hugh Williams, a big boy of suspicious character, if he had spilt the ink. He protested his inno

his turn to come.

cence; she questioned him; he still protested it. Other children were questioned. Every moment James expected He felt as if every eye were upon him, as if the teacher were looking right into his heart, as if God were frowning upon him, and he could not sit there and bear it. What added to his sorrow was, a big girl told a shameful lie and said that she saw Hugh Williams have the inkstand and let it fall; and on her false testimony Hugh was severely punished. This was a new agony to James. How sad that another should suffer so for his guilt! And still he could not speak nor move. He sat there three long hours, hiding his inky hand in his pocket, and feeling himself guilty, and yet he had not the courage to make a confession and ask forgiveness.

When school was over, and James and his sister entered their pleasant home, James did not hasten for his mother's welcoming kiss, but crept slowly and timidly into her room. When she lifted her soft, loving eyes, she saw that her little son was in trouble, and stretched out her hands towards him. He ran to her and hid his face in her lap. "What is the matter, James? Tell mother," she said. Anna answered for him, and told his sin and sorrow that had grown out of it, and mother and children wept together.

"We will lay the case before the righteous and merciful God," answered the mother; and she knelt with her children and prayed. They rose from their knees quiet and grave. Then the mother turned to James: "This wrong you have. done must first be confessed. Tell the truth to the teacher; tell it to Hugh Williams. Ask the teacher to tell it to the whole school, so that justice may be done. Ask forgiveness of Hugh, and then by your good conduct towards all,, especially towards Hugh, show you are really penitent."

"I'm afraid I can't tell the teacher; 'but I'm so sorry for Hugh. I can tell him," said James in a loud voice.

The next morning Anna and James were among the first in the school-room. As soon as the teacher came in, Anna'

told her that James wished to speak to her, and as soon as she had opened the school she called him to her side.

"I spilt the ink, he said, before he had quite reached her, and then burst into tears. She asked him to repeat what he had said. His courage grew with his effort to do right, and he repeated it ina louder tone, and added, "I am very sorry I did it; and I am very sorry I didn't tell you; and I am very sorry that Hugh Williams was punished for me;" and he stretched out his little hand that the teacher might punish him, but she did not strike it.

"I am very sorry too," she said, "for what you have done, very sorry; but I will not punish you now, as it is your first offence, and you have confessed it."

At noon-time, instead of eating his dinner at once, James kept his eye on Hugh Williams, and when he saw him alone, went up to him, and said, "I am sorry you were whipped. I won't do so again, Hugh."

Hugh laughed, though he looked more like crying, and answered, "That's nothing. I can bear whippings. I'd rather be whipped ten times than have a little fellow like you struck."

"But it wasn't right," said James, growing bolder all the time. Then he offered Hugh the largest of his two ap ples and his turn-over pie.

"I don't want your dinner," answered Hugh, turning his head, so that no one but James could see the big tears swimming in his eyes. James urged the apple, and Hugh took it; but when he offered the pie a second time Hugh pushed it from him and ran away saying, "I'd starve first. I'm not so mean as to eat up your dinner.”

Hugh's generous feeling towards little James was observed by all the scholars, and he was treated by them with a consideration and regard that he had never known before: so that he began to have a feeling of self-respect which finally led him to despise the small mischief in which he had once delighted. And as Hugh grew better, James grew bolder

and more courageous, so that he was ready to confess his faults and ask forgiveness. He never again kept silence and let another suffer for his sin.

Memoirs.

KATHRINE ANNIE BARRATT.

KATHRINE ANNIE BARRATT
was a scholar in the Free
Methodist Sunday-school,
Lincoln. She loved the
gates of Zion, and was never
willingly absent from the
school, or public worship.
She was always a delicate
child; in the Autumn of 1869,
her friends were alarmed by
symptoms of consumption.
Her strength failed, and all
efforts to restore her seemed
unavailing. In the following
spring she rallied, and hopes
were entertained that her
young life would be spared;
but the frail flower was only
to bloom awhile, and when
perfected the Master would
remove it to a more
genial clime, where disease
ne'er blights fair flowers, nor
death robs loving hearts.
Early in the present year, it
became painfully evident

con

that Kathrine must die; and when asked whether she would rather die or live, she invariably answered, "Just as the Lord thinks best-if I die, I know I shall go to heaven." Her simple, but sincere faith in Christ, as her Saviour, was real; religion was with her a living principle. As she grew weaker she grew more patient, and was ever thoughtful for the comfort of others. A few days before she died, she told her uncle and aunt, with whom she resided, who were to have some books and other articles in remembrance of her. "Gates Ajar," she sent to a dear friend, with the message, Tell her to read it, for it tells of the place to which I am going." The right before she died, she re

66

ESTHER LEACH, OF RUNCORN.