ers and sisters went off to school, all but little Johnny, and she thought him too small to be company for her. Her father was away at his business, and her mother had a thousand household cares. There were many long hours when she had to sit alone with nothing to do but look over old story-books, which she already knew by heart, and watch the sun shining so brightly, and long to be out in the midst of it.

It seemed very hard to Kitty that this sickness should have come upon her more than on another; and she fretted and chafed under it until it grew harder than ever to bear.

One day her sister brought home with her a friend whose acquaintance she had made at school, thinking it might amuse Kitty. Kitty was rather distant and cross at first, but Lottie was a good-natured girl, and persisted in talking to her until she won her into a pleasanter mood.

"I'll tell you,” she said after a while, "what makes you mind being sick more than anything else. It is because you haven't anything to do but just think about it the whole time, and that makes it seem ever so much worse."

"Do anything?" said Kitty indignantly. "Can I study lessons when I'm sick, I'd like to know? And I've read every book in the house almost; and I hate fancy-work, crochet and embroidery, and all that. Besides, it makes my head ache to count beads and stitches, and sort wools. You'd better get sick yourself, and you'd see."

"Oh!" laughed Lottie good-naturedly. "Do you suppose I've lived here all my life and not had the chills? Everybody has 'em. But I'll tell you what I'd do. It's the nicest fun in the world-in the way of work, I mean. I'd piece a bedquilt!"

"Piece a bedquilt! Such old-fashioned, countrified work!" said Kitty, in great disdain.

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Well, you're in the country now, and you ought to do as country-folks do," rejoined Lottie merrily. "And I know you'd like patchwork. It's real interesting cutting out

the patterns, and suiting the colours, and then seeing it grow bigger and bigger every day. I've done one in a cross, and one in a star pattern, and one of these days I'm going to do a hexagon. It's such nice pick-up work, and as good as an album to remember your friends by-the pieces of their dresses, you know!”

"Which is the prettiest, the cross or the star?" asked Kitty, beginning to think it might be a little interesting.

"Oh! I don't know-the star I guess you'd like best, and I could cut you out one now, to show you how it looks, if I had some pieces of calicc "

"Annie, ask mother, won't you, if I may get some out of the scrap-bag?" said Kitty.

Mother said, "Yes, certainly," and in a few minutes Lottie was cutting out squares and points, with practised fingers, and fitting them together so dexterously that Kitty became inspired with an ambition to emulate her; and was presently quite as busy and eager in sorting out the prettiest bits of chintz and cambric, and trying one colour against another, as ever Lottie herself could have been.

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'Well, well, what is going on here?" said Kitty's mother presently, coming in and finding the three girls all so busy and merry. Why, Puss, I haven't seen you look so bright since you were sick, poor little girlie. What is itpatchwork? It reminds me of the time when I was a little thing myself."

"Why, did you ever piece a bedquilt, mother?" asked Kitty, in quite an excitement. “ Well, I am going to do so, too, mayn't I? And won't you please buy me some new calico, mother?--a whole lot, in quarter-yards, because I don't want too many stars alike, you know. And some white muslin, mother-"

'Yes, I'll see that you have enough to begin with," said her mother. "And I hope it will help you to get over some of the dull days, poor child; only you must always put it away when I tell you. I can't have you tiring yourself out."

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'No, no," said Kitty impatiently. "See, mother, doesn't this blue and buff look lovely together?

And so Kitty's bedquilt was begun, and, by-and-bye, it came to be the absorbing theme of interest in the house. Everybody felt so sorry for the poor little girl who still continued to shiver and scorch with the chill and the fever every other day, and everybody was so glad of anything that could serve to cheer her in her hard trial, that everybody in the house, from papa down, got in the way of making contributions to the patchwork, which, day by day, grew bigger and brighter with gaily-coloured "stars.”

Even the gentlemen and ladies who visited the house, and who pitied the little pale girl who looked like the ghost of her former sunny self, used to draw from their pockets mysterious packages, out of which peeped the pretty pinks, and blues, and purples that delighted Kitty's eyes. And the child became so wrapt up in her work, and her little heart, tired out and discouraged with pain, so warmed and cheered by everybody's kindness, that the cross looks and fretful moods vanished as if by magic, and the doctor said she was the best patient he had.

One day, however, she overtired herself, and the old irritable temper came back. She gave her mother sullen answers, and spoke to poor little Johnny so sharply that he went away with great tears in his big blue eyes, and had a good cry all to himself in the play-room.

The next morning, he begged his mother to let him go to "the store" alone, and as it was only a little way off, she said yes. He came back, by-and-bye, all flushed with running, and, with a sly look, half eager, half afraid, put into Kitty's lap a parcel containing two quarter-yards of calico, one a bright scarlet and one a vivid orange. Poor little fellow ! They were his idea of beauty, and he had spent all the money he had in the world to buy them for Kitty.

Well, Kitty is grown up now and married, and the bed

quilt was finished years ago, and all its bright colours are faded; but she has not forgotten, and will never forget, how her heart was touched that day, and she is convinced that the chills, and the patchwork, and the kindness, altogether, had a great deal to do in making her a better girl than she ever would have been without them.

Faithful in few Things.

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ARRY went to his uncle's blacksmith's-shop. He was sorry to leave his books; but his uncle thought books made blockheads of boys, and was not satisfied till he got Harry out of school and into his shop. 'Mother," said he, "then there will be no chance of my getting an education?" His mother thought the chance was small; but the poor widow did not dare to interfere with her brother-in-law, who promised Harry's father or his death-bed to look after his son. Harry had no taste for the smithy, and that the boys knew; so one of them gave him this bit of advice:

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:

'Show your uncle you don't care. I wouldn't learn. Be as bungling and make all the mistakes you can; makebelieve you can't learn. Then he'll be glad to ship you off."

"Never!" cried Harry, indignantly. "I shall try to be as faithful as I can. I should dishonour God, dishonour my mother, and dishonour my father's memory by such conduct."

The boy turned on his heel, and Harry went to his work. He found many spare moments, and these he thought he might improve by reading or study. But the head work

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man did not like that. He did not like any boys very well and a reading boy he heartily despised. "Pity the mare that is shod by a stickler to his books," he said. Very likely he complained to Henry's uncle, for his uncle presently made it very plain that books got into the wrong place when they got into the smithy. You can't do two things at a time," said the old blacksmith, "no how." Harry pleaded the spare moments, but uncle did not allow there should be any spare moments in business; so poor Harry was quite cut off. It was a disappointment, a great one; but he cheerfully gave up his taste and his ardent wishes, and tried to be a first-class smith.

Harry lived at home, between two and three miles off, and he used to bring his dinner in a tin-box. The dinner-hour then was his own time, and as an algebra or Latin grammar was usually a part of the contents of the box, he used to go out under an old elm, not far from the shop, and there feed his hungry mind as well as body. His uncle observed it, and saw too how careful he was not to steal business hours.

"That's a good boy," said the old man many times to himself. He found also how intelligent and observing he was. That did not touch his heart, however. "Plenty of bright boys" he used to say to himself; "but faithfulness is a scarce article-a scarce article."

To make a long story short, in the end Harry won the day. Uncle loved Harry. "And, Harry," he said at the close of his second year at the smithy, "I've been two years weighing you, and haven't found you wanting. You may get an education, and I'll help you along. You'll do good with it, I'll be bound."

What a happy, thankful day was that. Before honour is humility. Harry went though a course of education, and he now fills a high and responsible post. There is no stain on his integrity. Every duty he discharges he accepts as from God's hand, feeling that to him one day he must ren