"That is _so_, I really do believe. I always did like to _receive_, to have those I love _give_ me something. But I really think I felt happier in _giving_ Uncle Morris his watch-pocket, and in taking poor Madge home, than I did in receiving my skates, or rubber boots, or any thing else I ever had given to me. It's queer it should be so, but so it is. Yes, it _is_ more blessed to _give_ than to _receive_. I'll remember that as long as I live."

These musings were broken by their arrival at Mrs. Moneypenny's. Here they found poor Jack, Guy's _protege_. He had arrived from the hospital the day before. His leg, though still sore and stiff, was healed. Long confinement had made his face thin and pale. But he was very glad to find himself at home again, and was very busy helping his mother get the turkey, sent the day before by Uncle Morris, ready for the oven.

Here again Jessie found grateful hearts. After some other remarks, the old lady said--

"That nephew of yours is a wonderful boy, Sir. There ain't another such boy in all Duncanville. Only think, Sir, how he, a gentleman's son, has milked and fed my cow, twice a day, ever since my Jack, there, was hurt!

Why, Sir, we should all have been in the alms-house if it hadn't been for him. May the dear lad never know what trouble means!"

"I'd die for Guy Carlton, any day!" said Jack, his eyes glistening with grateful tears as he spoke.

"Rather strong language that, my lad!" observed Mr. Morris.

"Well, I would, Sir. He's been so good to my poor mother, I'd do any thing for him. I never knew such a boy as Guy Carlton," rejoined Jack, with a warmth that defied contradiction, if it did not carry conviction.

Having again drawn on the contents of the basket for the supply of Mrs.

Moneypenny's table, they withdrew followed by a cloud of good wishes from the hearts and lips of Jack and his mother.

Thus from cottage to cottage they pa.s.sed, like angels of mercy, making glad the hearts of the poor.

Returning from these visits to Glen Morris, they prepared for church, where they heard a most excellent sermon, on the duty of grat.i.tude to G.o.d.

Divine service over, they returned home, sat down at the plentiful table, and feasted on the good things which usually make up a thanksgiving dinner, in homes of wealth and comfort.

When the dessert was brought on, a little paper box was placed, by the servant, beside Guy's plate. His name was written upon it in the well-known handwriting of his uncle.

"What have you there, Guy?" inquired Hugh, who sat next to his brother.

"Perhaps it's a jack in the box!" suggested Mr. Carlton.

"A watch! A _gold_ hunting-watch! Oh, what a beauty! Just what I've been wanting," exclaimed Guy, opening the box; "but what's this writing?"

On the inside of the case was this inscription: "Presented to Guy Carlton in token of my admiration for his kindness to a poor widow in the time of her distress.--Mr. Morris."

Guy blushed deeply as his brother read this inscription. He was not aware that his uncle knew about his kindness to the widow. But the old gentleman had heard all about it from the grateful woman's own lips. He now told the story to the family. Mr. Carlton was delighted, and spoke words of approbation that sank deep into Guy's heart, where they were treasured up with more care than he would have kept ingots of gold.

But there was a frown on Hugh's face. He had no watch, and Guy now had two. Hence, he felt envious. But before he had time to express himself, as he was about to do, Guy took his old watch from his pocket and placing it in Hugh's hand, said:

"There Hugh, I'll give you my old watch. It's a capital time-keeper!"

"Thank you," replied Hugh, repressing his frown, and trying to look pleased.

"He don't deserve it," said Uncle Morris.

During this last act of Guy's, the servant placed a letter and another box--a _very_ small one--beside Jessie's plate. Opening the letter, she read thus:

CITY OF SELF CONQUEST, December, 18--.

DEAR MISS CARLTON:

Permit me to inform you that I have this day been wedded to Miss Perseverance by the Rev. Mr. Good-Resolution. With your permission, I and my bride will take up our abode with you at Glen Morris. I have taken a new name in part, and with my bride's help, I hope to _help_ you more than I formerly _hindered_ you, to keep the rules of the Try Company. The box contains a gift from a mutual friend, who wishes you to admit me, in my new estate, to your friendship and confidence.

Very truly yours, RIGHT IMPULSE.

"Ah, Uncle Morris, you wrote that, I know you did!" said Jessie, laughing, and looking very archly at her uncle.

"Well, maybe it is an old man's folly that did it. But Jessie, I trust you have now so far conquered yourself that henceforth your _impulses_ will no longer be like little wizards tempting you astray, but that they will be guided by _right resolutions_, and carried out with _perseverance_. You will thus become a true member of the Try Company, and live both a good and a useful life."

Jessie now opened her box. Taking a bright little object from its velvet lining, she placed it on her finger, and holding it up, exclaimed:

"What a dear little thimble! Oh! isn't it pretty?"

It was a golden thimble with her name inscribed upon it. It came from her uncle, as a token of his approval of her many efforts to bring her impulses under the control of the law of duty.

"I hope," he said to her after receiving her caresses, "that your hardest struggles with your old enemy are over. But no doubt the little fellow will sometimes try to separate himself from his good resolutions and from his bride Perseverance. When he does so, you will be in danger again. But be brave! Be thoughtful! Be prayerful! Trust in the Great Teacher! Try, and try again, and Uncle Morris will never have need to blush for his niece, Jessie Carlton."

After dinner our young folks got up a grand romp in the parlor. Their father and uncle joined them, and the jocund hours pa.s.sed so swiftly, that the dusk stole upon them unawares.

"Dear me! How early it is dark to-night," said Jessie, as panting with excitement, she sat down in her own little chair.

"Hours fly on eagle's wings, when people are pleased and busy, as we have been this afternoon," observed Uncle Morris in reply; "but hark! our door-bell rings! Somebody is coming in. Boys, put the chairs to rights!"

Before the disordered room could be made fit for a reception, the servant opened the door, and said:

"Mr. Carlton, will you please step to the door?"

Going to the door, Mr. Carlton found a man standing on the door-step with a letter in his hand. A carriage stood in front of the piazza. Bowing to Mr. Carlton, the man handed him the letter, and said:

"I have brought Miss Kate Carlton from New York, to stay with you, Sir.

She is in the carriage. This letter will explain the reasons of her coming."

Though greatly surprised at the sudden appearance of his niece, Mr.

Carlton did not stop, either to read the letter or ask questions, but went at once to the carriage, and offering his hand to his niece, said:

"I am happy to see you, my dear, at Glen Morris. Come into the house. John will see to your baggage."

Kate put her fingers into her uncle's hand, and with a mincing step, walked into the hall. Mr. Carlton asked the man who accompanied her, if he would remain all night.

"No, Sir. I thank you. I must return by the last train, which will be here, as soon as I can get to the station. Good night, Sir!"

"Good night," replied Mr. Carlton.

When Kate was conducted to the parlor, she was of course, greeted with looks and expressions of great surprise. Jessie sprang to her cousin, embracing her, and exclaiming:

"Why Kate Carlton, is that you?"

Guy took her hand kindly, and said, "I am glad to see you, Kate."

Hugh also gave her his hand, but his words were not gracious. He said: