Freddy's Lessons

Freddy Learned many tbinga that his jooks never said anything about. As lis lessons of ten beneüted other peo)le, I have thought they would do the ittle readers some goed also. May be ,hey will help the large readers aswell. A.ny how, this i3 the way he learned to 3onquer his temper: When he was nine years oíd he read i child's hfe of Washington. This little book made him love Washington veiymuch, and he was always glad to talk about that great and good man. Cnarley Vallance was about Freddy's age, but had road a great deal more about Napoleon than about Washington, and he thought as rnuch of Napoleon as Freddy did of Washington. These little boys were flrm f riends, and, as they lived neighbors, they always went to school together. One day, when Freddy had been praising Washington, Charles said: "Pshaw! Washington wasn'tno great sticks. Bonaparte was a heap greater man than him." "I'd just like for you to teil me how he was the greatest,'' said Freddy, hotly. "Wel!, he raised a sight bigger arniies than Washington did." "That's nothin' to brag about,"-said Freddy, with a sneer; "most any body could raise big armies in France, where there is so many iolks." "Then Napoleon crossed the Alps - Washington never done that." "I dou't remeniber whether he did or not, but he crossed the Delaware and whipped the Hessians,'1 said Freddythoughtfully. "Napoleon would have called that a little skrimtuage," said Charley, eontemptuously, as he cut ofi the top of a locust-bush with the stick he carried." Why, Washington didn't have three thousand men at that fight." "Don't care if he didn't; he picked up a thousand of them there Datchmen, and got back all safe bef ore Cornwallis could ketch him." "Say, Freddy, lefs leave it to the teacher whether Napoleon wasn't the greatest general." Charley said tb. is because he saw that Freddy was becoming angry. Freddy agreed to it, and they soon reached the school-house. When they had put their books in the desks, they went up to the teacher, and Cbarley said: "Mrs. May, wasn't Napoleon Bonaparte a greater general than George Washington ?" Mrs. May answered : "Napoleon had much betler chances to show oiï his generalship, and commanded mightier armies than Washington, but may be he would have done better than Washington did even if he had been in his place." "Course he would!" exclaimed Charley. "lio never lost a flght, except Waterloo," "Well, Washington was the best man, for they say he never told a lie." "No, he wasn't any better man, neither!" "You littlo traitor, you shan't tell me that," said Freddy, as he struck Cnarley violentlyin themouth. Charley returned the blow before Mis. May could interfere. and she had some difficully in separating them. The boys stood wiping'the blood íf om their faces while Mrs. May told them how grieved she was that they could not talk about such matters without flghting. Freddy began to cry, and blubbered out: "If 1 didn't have no more patriotiam than Charley Vallance hasgot, l'd be ashamed to ever cali Washington the íatner ot na y country. " "If I didn't Lave no more wit than you've got, Fd soak my head," was the exasperating reply of Cliarley. "Boys, go to your seat, and after you are in a good humor, I'll teil you how you can both be greater men than either Bonaparte or Washington,"' said the teacher. They skulkecl baokto their desk, and tried very hard to stay angry, but it was no use ; very soon Freddy needed Charley's help about something, and before he thought he had asked his assistance. Then they both laughd, and Charley held out his hand to Freddy. Freddy clasped it warmly, and at recess they went to tüe teacher and told her they had "made up." "Very well, boys, now then let rne teil you what the "Good Book" says about greatness. In the sixteenth chapter of Proverb3, the thirty-second verse, youwill lind these words: 'He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.' If you had been slow to anger, and had ruled your violent tcmpers, you could have said of yourselves that you had a greatness that is superior to the generalship of any man." The boys went about their play then, but they had learned agood leason.and I atnglad totell you that they profited by it, and ruled their spirits after that, so tbat when either of them began to get angry, the other would say : 'Ifemember Mrs. May's text." Only Helping Mother. Mary Barstow had just ünished the week's ironiug, and llushed and weary, slie went out on the piaiza, with its shade of honeysuckle vines, to rest awhile. Jast then who should como tripping up the walk but her most intímate friend, Fanny Stillman. "I have come to say good-by, Mary," she began, seating hersslf in the restf ui shade, "to-morrow, you know, I return to school.' "What! so soon?" exclaimed Mary, with a gasp of surprise, "how lonely I shall be without you." "Lt isn't soon to me," responded Fanny. "These two weeks of vacation have seemed an age. But what will - ■ nier?" "I shall be helping mother," vra3 the simple reply. "Ouly hclping mother I How I do Mcy you, cooped up in ;his stupid coun:ry place. I'na guing to teach af ter I gradúate ; no more of such dull plodding work for me." Mary thought of Mra. Stillman with lier family of five little ones, and no help, that expense having been curtailed to enable tbe eldest daughter to finish her education, and she could not refrain trom saying : "How much you can assist your parents through your teaching, Fanny ; I almost envy you. "I don't know about that," replied Fanny. "I think if I board and clothe myself father ought to be satisfled. The flrst sum of money that I can cali my owu I am going to spend for a gold watch and a set of jewelry - things I never could afford at home." The day'3 work was over at last, and the evening sun was tenderly kissing the earth good night, when Mary Barstow stole softly into the room where her mother was sitting in thoughtful silence. "My dear child, I wish it were sothat you could accompany your friend," said Mrs. Barstow, gently stroking the head that was laid on her lap. "Oh, it isn't that mother ; I was thinking if I was only gif ted like Fanny, how much I might do for father. If I could teach for a year my school money would help lift the mortgage from the farm. As it is, I am only " "Helping mother, isn't that what you mean, Mary," interruptedMrs. Barstow. "Do you know, deítr, what this cheerf ui helping is ? It is lifting a load of care froni inother's heart : it is aiding fatlier by saving the expense of hired help. Through it you are learning to be a keeper of home - one of the grandest lessons in life. It is a rare accomplishment to be able to make lióme bright arid happy, the most attractive place in the world ; to be f daughter on whose strong, helping love parents eau lean ; a sister in whose guiding affection brothei"3 trust and are saved from the tempter's snares. Many a man owes his succes9 to the warm heart-glow of a well-ordered home, while many, alas! trace their ruin to the home frosts of early life. "Gifts, such as those possessed by your friend, are very choice and should be held in their most exalted sense; but faithful, ready hands and a cheerful heart are more essential to the happiness of this life than brilliant talents." "What a fiiculty you have of making my humble life appear desirabie," claimed Mary. "No work is so humble but that God will require us to give Him an account of it; remember that, Mary. Whatever our work in life is let us do it well. The highest and lowliest duties, well performed alike, may win the reward of heaven- even the Master's 'Well done.'" Three years have passed away and Fanny Stillman's ambition is gratified. She is a successful teacher and has money to spend for the beautif ui things of earth. Her mother's pale and careworn face speaks of a life sacriüced to a daughter's comfort, while her father is struggling to survive the lieavy drain that Fanny's schooling has given his puree. Mary Barstow, though not a gradúate in the home school, has all along combined study with practice, while a younger, happier looking wonian of her age than Mrs. Barstow one rarely nieets. The farm has been cleared of its mortgage, the younger children are at school preparing for lives of usefulness. But their ideal genius, the beautif ui spirit that won their affection and commanded their respect, is sister Mary, tho star of home.