she uttered unconsciously a great truth. There are some spirits so attuned, even while on earth, earth, to the harmonies of heaven, that the very atmosphere which surrounds them, becomes, as it were, charged with an influence almost Divine in its peacefulness.

Such serene and holy souls seem a link between heaven and earth, drawing us up by their attractive force, to a better and a purer life, and making us ashamed of the discords and din of our selfish and narrow existence. Thus high and potent was the influence which breathed from the heaven-tuned spirit of sweet Mary Ives. Rose could not understand its nature, though she acknowledged its power, and often found herself exclaiming, "Oh, if I could only be as good as cousin Mary!"

"Oh, mother," cried Rose, bursting

into the parlor one morning on her return from school, "my name was called out to-day-the first time for the whole term! I declare, it is too bad! I didn't deserve it. That hateful Jane Anson!"-and Rose threw her hat and shawl on the table, and flung herself into a chair, out of breath, and sobbing with vexation.

"Rose," said her mother, "gather up your things and put them away, and then come back and tell me your trouble."

Rose obeyed.

the room,

When she returned to the flush on her cheeks had

somewhat subsided, and placing a low

seat close to her mother, she sat down, and buried her face in her hands. At length she raised her head.

"I can't help it, mother.

The bad

feelings will come, try as hard as I can to keep them back."

"Have you really tried, my daughter? But let me hear what it is that vexes you. Now tell me, as calmly as possible."

"Well, mother, you know the rule that Miss Eldon made, when this term commenced-didn't I tell you of it?that instead of reporting broken regulations, each one for herself, at the close of the school in the afternoon, she should appoint a monitor every week to call out by name whoever was tardy or idle, and so on-the names to be recorded by her, and read aloud to the school on Friday. Well, Jane Anson, that new scholar that I told you about, is monitor this week. I had just read over quite a difficult question in arithmetic, and was trying to recall the rule by which to work it, when Jane called out, Rose Hamilton -idle.' She knew I wasn't, mother, for she told one of the girls afterward,

that she supposed I was thinking of my question, though I wasn't working it, but she had been watching all the week for a chance to call me out. I felt badly enough at the time, but when Laura May told me, at recess, what she had said, I was dreadfully angry, and called her a mean, ugly girl before all the scholars. It seemed as though I never could forgive her, and I don't think I ever can. It was so mean! Wasn't it mean, mother?"-and Rose's flushed cheek and kindling eye told of a spirit quite discordant with that of the meek and lowly Jesus, whom she had so much wished to imitate but a few days before.

"It was certainly very unkind in Jane, Rose," said Mrs. Hamilton, gently smoothing the shining golden hair that lay in disordered curls over the fair forehead

of the weeping child. "But there is a

remedy for your trouble. You can tell Miss Eldon the true state of the case before the week's report is made out, and she will see that your name is removed. But, my dear child, can you so easily efface the stain which your angry feelings and words have made on your heart. Get your little Bible, and I will find a passage which I should like to have you learn. Perhaps it will help you to exercise that forgiving spirit which you think now it is impossible for you ever to possess.

Rose handed her mother a neat copy of the Bible from her book-case. Mrs. Hamilton turned over the leaves slowly until she came to this passage

"For what glory is it, if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently? but if when ye do well and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is