throughout all the earth, His saving health among all

nations.

T.B.

Bessie's Motto.

HATSOEVER thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." That was Bessie Thorpe's motto for the week; she and her mother always chose them on Sunday from a book of Scriptural proverbs. They opened the book, and placed their finger on a verse, and then made it a sort of guide or pattern, or drew comfort from it, as the case might

be.

"I don't like it very much," said Bessie in a disappointed tone. "I wanted something sweet and tender. yours, 'Love one another.'"

Think of

"But yours is very good," replied mamma, with a kiss. "There is always so much work to do. And one does not want to look for it in the Bible."

"One finds it everywhere, nevertheless."

Bessie had swept and dusted, wiped dishes, and studied lessons with all her might, so far. This was Wednesday, and the clothes had come up from the wash. It was a summer afternoon, four o'clock. Bessie came home from school, hung up her sun-hat, and glanced into her room, which was just off from her mother's.

"Ten stockings!" she exclaimed, in dismay. Yes, there they hung. Eight of them belonged to the four brothers, and two to herself. It seemed sometimes as if she was like Hop-o'-my-thumb, and these four boys resolved themselves into seven, or, indeed, an unknown quantity. Ther she admitted privately to herself that she hated darn

ing stockings. If the boys would go barefoot on weekdays! but they stubbed their toes, cut and bruised and wounded their feet, and liked .hoes and stockings better as a regular thing But Mrs. Thorpe could not afford a servant, with these five little ones to clothe and feed, and only had her washing done. It fell to Bessie's part to darn the stockings, for mamma always had her basket piled up with work,

"Twenty-one holes!" she said. Some were quite small, some larger. "O dear! And it's such a lovely day! Now, if I only had one brother, or two at the most! And Bertie's stockings are always the worst!"

Perhaps they could have dispensed with Bertie. There was Frank, nearly fourteen-a manly, handsome fellow, who had gone in Mr. Gray's store at the beginning of June; Bessie next; Herbert, ten and dear little curlyheaded Rob, aged eight; and Georgie, six, who was as pretty as a picture. But Bertie's hair was almost red; his face was quite freckled; his nose rather short; and a great, boisterous, clumsy, good-for-nothing boy! He was always tormenting Bessie too, and his stockings had twice as many holes as those of the others. So, no wonder Bessie said: "O dear!"

She mended her own first. little break just above the heel. bad.

They had only a lady-like
Frank's were not very

"Mrs.

"Here is a note for you," said Mrs. Thorpe. Dana's girl brought it, and is waiting for an answer.” "O mamma! it's an invitation to tea! Her cousins are there—they couldn't send sooner," and the words tumbled out, while Bessie's face was flushed and eager. "Read it

—and oh! I may go, mayn't I?"

"I don't see any objection, if you care so very much about it. But I thought you and Carrie

"Oh! that wasn't much, mamma, and I suppose I was vexed with her. And it is so lovely there! A great house

with no boys to put everything out of order, and a servant, and-"

“Yes,” said her mother, laughingly, glancing at the stockings.

"Oh! I will mend them to-morrow.

Those of Bertie's

are hardly worth it: they are full of holes."

"But we are not rich enough to throw them away.”

Bessie sighed. Then she brushed out her pretty yellow curls, slipped on her white dress, while her mother tied her blue sash, a birthday present from Aunt Lou.

"Good riddance to you, old stockings!" said Bessie disdainfully, running lightly down the stairs.

It was a good half-mile to Mrs. Dana's. The little girl hurried along in the shade, and presently reached the place.

"Those

"I'm so glad you could come," began Carrie. stupid Allens are here again in red chambray dresses. Aunt Fanny has horrid taste. I sent for the Gardiners to come over, but they could not-I don't believe they wanted to!"

Bessie had said,--" I don't think I ever will go to Carrie Dana's again, she always makes you uncomfortable ;" and now she thought of it.

Kate and Elsie Allen might have looked better in something beside the deep rose-pink chambray on this warm day, but they were glad to see Bessie, so she did not remember that against them.

"Can't we play croquet?" asked Elsie. "Oh! it's too warm," returned Carrie. almost roasted now," with a slight laugh.

And you look

"Let us have the checkers out here then," said Kate. "I am very fond of a good game."

"There can only two play it; besides the pieces might roll around and get lost, and papa would be angry."

"O dear! what shall we do?" was Elsie's next attempt.

Carrie drew Bessie to a corner of the shaded balcony, and began to whisper. Bessie felt quite uncomfortable. "Let us go to your play-room," she proposed presently. Carrie gave a reluctant assent. There was a small library of children's books, dolls, dishes, a complete playhouse, pictures, and entertaining puzzles. Sometimes, as

Bessie sat over her sowing, she used to envy Carrie the abundance and variety. But Carrie was selfish, and made her love of order and neatness positive faults.

It

There were sundry pleasurable exclamations now. seemed as if the little party might have a delightful time. But Carrie hovered around her cousins with:

"Oh! don't touch that! I'm afraid you'll break this. No, I don't have my nice wax doll out, except on special occasions; its eyes might get out of order. And this one's pretty hair get rough. I've just dressed that one clean, and Mary scolds about having so many dresses to do up."

Something came into Bessie's mind-" doing it with all her might "--whether it were play, or work, or study. The motto was good for something, after all. She began to feel very sorry for the two little cousins.

66

Suppose I were to read a story?" she said at length. "Oh! no. I am tired of stories, I read so much."

"Let us go down and swing, then."

"Oh! yes," and Elsie started.

There could be no objection to this, Bessie thought. But Carrie managed to make it uncomfortable, and finally dragged Bessie away, though the little girls had a much nicer time by themselves.

Presently they were summoned to tea. Mrs. Dana was a fashionable woman, with a listless, indifferent air, as if she was tired of everything.

The supper was delightful and beautifully arranged; but somehow Bessie could not help admitting that they had a great deal more fun and enjoyment at home. She was to leave at half-past seven, so as to be sure to reach home be

fore dark. Bessie felt tired and dispirited, too, and walked rapidly to get up a little glow and fervour. She always came home depressed from Carrie Dana's. several people in the sitting room.

coming down stairs.

There were

Doctor Gregg was just

"Oh!" she cried in alarm, "what is the matter, mamma?"

"He

"It is Bertie," exclaimed one of the neighbours. has had a bad fall. They thought at first that he was dead."

By degrees she heard the story. Bertie had been climbing up a steep side hill, when a stone had given way, rolling over and over with him, bruising, stunning, and almost killing him.

"I guess he will pull through," said Doctor Gregg, cheerfully. He is a sound, healthy boy, and that is in his favour."

Bye-and-bye the house was cleared, Rob put to bed, mamma and Mrs. Kinsley, with their wrappers on, to sit up and watch, and the good-nights said.

Almost

It seemed so strange and solemn to Bessie. dead. And Bertie, too! Why, she was thinking this very afternoon that they could do without him; but, after all, this house was pleasanter with all its 'life, and joyousness, and disorder, than Mrs, Dana's. Was it because they worked, and played, and loved, with all their might?

She went in to see Bertie the next morning. There had been some leeches on one temple, and the sad wound went to Bessie's tender heart. Up above this was a bad bruise, and his head was bandaged, there being a severe cut upon that. The "good" side of his face was very pale, but Bessie kissed it again and again. He could only look at her out of one great wistful blue eye; and she never had known before how very beautiful his eyes were.

Over the back of a chair, in her room, hung her yesterday's unfinished mending.