garden. The third day I passed, Sophia's parasol hung forlornly by the fringe, the hook being broken short off, and Harriet's was in no better plight; it was not only bent but torn by briers. The new way of getting things, hitherto out of reach, was too fascinating not to find imitators. This will never do I thought; so, as it was a half-holiday, I went up into the play-room with the broken articles in my hand, demanded of the owners what had become of their hooks, and offered to glue them on again.

"I have lost mine," said Harriet, as humbly as if I had not been the person who put this mischief into her little head, "I just wanted to get a little piece of wild vine down with it, and somehow it snapped and fell into the ditch; I tried to poke it out, but it was under the duckweed, so I couldn't."

"And your's, Sophy? I asked."

"I'm sure I don't know what has become of mine," said Sophy, coloring, "I put it into my basket, but I suppose it fell out while I was running home."

I had nothing to say of course, so I put on my bonnet and walked with my mother to the town. I told her what had happened, and bought two new parasols, at a cost of three shillings and sixpence each. I set down the seven shillings in my account book as "Conscience Money"-gave the parasols to Sophia and Harriet, told them I was sorry I had done such a careless thing and set them such a bad example, and said I hoped they would never ill-use my presents.

They were extremely grateful, took my lecture quite humbly, and my self-accusation with evident surprise.

"What trifles to be recorded!" you perhaps say, reader. Very true, but I become daily more convinced, that trifles form the human character. You must have read, at least a hundred fictitious tales, of children who were cured of some grave fault or foible, by a great misfortune, or by some dreadful conse quences which the fault occasioned.

Miss Lucy is fearfully passionate; she is warned and cor rected in vain. At last, one day in a passion she gives he little sister a push-the child falls into the fire and is very much burnt. Lucy suffers agonies of remorse, and from that day she is entirely cured of passion. Miss Henrietta is so

careless and thoughtless, that she can be trusted with nothing. Yet, by some extraordinary chance, such as happens only in a story-book, she is trusted, though a mere child, to give her sick mother some fever mixture; she gives her some lotion instead, her mother is made so ill that they think she will die, and Henrietta is a model of prudence and thoughtfulness ever after.

Now in real life there are the children of grace, and the chil. dren of nature; there are good children, affectionate children, tiresome children, volatile children; but there are no children · like these. No such events happen, and if they did, no such consequences would follow; the mind of a healthy child can scarcely take in any such feeling as overwhelming and continuous remorse, or any other deep emotion. Their impressions are lively but transient. It is not one great event that fashions character, but a succession of trifling ones. However, it is not my place to moralize, though I am in a "responsible situation."

A day or two after this, I was sitting in my room reading, when Harriet and Charlie put in their heads. It was forbidden ground, so I asked them what they wanted?

They thought, as it rained, and they could not go out, perhaps I would let them look out of my window at the barges... There is a canal at the bottom of the garden, and a lock; many, barges pass through it, and the children like to watch them.

I said they might come in if they would be tolerably quiet, so they came and knelt upon the window seat, talking all the time in their pretty childish way.

The book was very amusing, and I was so quiet, that at last, I suppose they forgot my presence, and I should have forgotten theirs, if the frequent mention of my name had not roused me.

"Orris had said this,-Orris did not think so."

"When I am a lady, I shall have my dressing table set out exactly as Orris does," I heard my little sister say; "I shall have two scent bottles, and a nice little glass full of pinks and roses."

"But it will never look so pretty," said Charlie, “ for mamma says you are such a careless, untidy little thing."

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It will," returned Harriet; "I shall be quite neat-perfectly neat, when I am a young lady like Orris, and sit up as

I

late as papa and mamma, and have people take wine with me at dinner! And," continued my little sister, going on with the list of my advantages, "I shall walk whichever way choose, just as Orris does; sometimes I shall take the children with me- -O no, there will be no children then-and of course, I shall not be obliged to get up when I am called, unless I like. I shall be late sometimes, particularly in winter."

"Yes," said Charlie, "it is very disagreeable to be obliged to get up exactly at seven, and to have nurse stay in the room till we begin, for fear we should go to sleep again."

"And to be obliged to put a penny in the missionary box, when we do unfortunately happen to be late," proceeded Harriet; "of course, when we are as old as Orris, we shall not do that; she never does, and yet she is late far oftener than we

are."

I remained with my book open before me, but I felt my cheeks tingle. My little brother and sister had scarcely seemed to impute it to me as a fault, that I was often late at prayers. I was a young lady and might do as I pleased. It was a matter of course, then, that young ladies should be absent from prayers; the moral wrong was in a great degree unperceived, and it was because they were at present mere children, that they must always be in time. I said nothing, but held my book up before my face, and was too much disturbed by my own cogitations, to notice what they said further.

The words "responsible situation," rang in my ears. My father and mother had said to me from time to time, "Remember that your example is of great consequence to the others." I thought I had attended: but why had these few words of my friend made so much more impression? The reason seemed akin to what gave me so much influence over my little brothers and sisters.

Miss Olgar was a trifle older, and a good deal wiser than myself, but still she was of the same generation, and she had no authority, nor did she very much care whether I was swayed by her opinions; she was, as it were, a disinterested witness. But ought a person, who cares so little for one's welfare, to be heard with more attention than a parent? Certainly not.

I reflected again, and thought the reason might be this, though it did not quite satisfy me. It was, that no knowledge given or taught us by others, can be so much impressed upon the mind, as what it finds out or picks up for itself. Now, the precepts and the knowledge presented by parents, is of the first kind, but what we catch as it were, by example, or from what is accidentally said in our presence, and apply to ourselves is of the second. Therefore, though the direct teacher should be careful as to the tendency of his teaching, how careful also should the indirect teacher be, as to the moral of his example.

My little brother and sister presently ran out of the room, and I began to suffer, or perhaps I should say, to be blessed with, a constant sense of responsibility. It was not more than a week after this, that Harriet knocked at my door, and asked me to begin a crochet mat for her. "Why did you not ask Sophy ?" I enquired, for I was busy. "Sophy knows many more patterns than I."

"O yes," said Harriet in a peevish tone, "but Sophy's so cross." I then remembered that Sophy had appeared very cross and irritable all day.

I began the mat, and as I returned it to Harriet she said, "I hope you wont say any thing to Sophy about being cross, for mamma has been displeased with her, and she cried."

"Where is she now ?" I asked.

Sitting by the fire in the play-room, with her feet on the fender."

Harriet ran away, and at the same time my mother came up. "Orris," she said, when the child was out of hearing, "did you ever say that you could not help feeling irritable, when there was an east wind? or rather, have you ever excused any little exhibition of irritation, by saying there was an east wind?

“I am afraid I have," I answered, and the particular occasion when I had done so recurred to my mind.

Perhaps it was last month, when you were unwell," said my kind mother, seeing me look vexed, for I instantly thought of Sophy; I knew I had said so more than once in her presence. "Because," continued my mother, 'Sophy has shewn a good deal of irritable feeling several times lately, and to-day when I spoke to her about it, she excused herself very pettishly, on the

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ground of the wind, and quoted you as a believer in the difficulty of being good tempered on such occasions. Now, really, my dear, if we are all systematically to be out of temper, every time the wind is easterly

"How very provoking!" I could not help saying.

"It was certainly an incautious thing for you to advance: no doubt Sophy has greatly exaggerated it; she has had a month to think over this new doctrine, and I am afraid, poor child, she has not only used it to excuse ill temper, but I thought to-day I saw symptoms of a dismal kind of satisfaction, in the idea that her nerves were quite as fine as her sister's. Now, my dear, don't make a grievance of this, but go to Sophy, see what you can do, and be careful not to laugh at her folly. And don't propose a walk to her, for you all have colds, and the wind is east after all."

So I took my way to the play-room. There sat Sophy with her eyes red, and her feet on the fender. The two little ones, and Miss Olgar's three pupils looked rather sad, but my proposal to play a game with them at "I spy," made a sudden change in their faces. We set to work-to play I mean-in good earnest. At first, as the noisy party rushed backward and forward through the play room, and were heard exulting and shrieking in the rooms and passages, Sophy was too dignified to do more than turn her head; after awhile she could not help laughing, and a few minutes after that, as I headed one party in a dash up the back stairs, we met her and Charlie in full chase, and bore them with us after the enemy, who just then was heard clattering across an empty garret. Sophy was in high spirits, and when the game was over, and the guests gone, she and I had a confidential conversation; I told her I was very sorry I had ever said such foolish things, and she being of a generous disposition, promised that whenever there was an east wind, she would try to be particularly good tempered.

But O! elder sisters, I beseech your sympathy! for I am not very old, nor very wise. I ask your sympathy, and I offer you mine, though fully conscious, that without assistance from above we shall never be able to perform the duties of our responsible situations.

ORRIS.