Willie had been overcome by temptation. He had done a dishonourable act, but his conscience was quick to reprove him, and he had listened to its admonitions. There had been a short but severe struggle in his mind, and truth and honour had conquered. He was brave enough to confess his fault, and to do what he could to make amends for it.

Mrs. Dudley was not at home, but a friend who had charge of the children told her the circ.u.mstance. It rejoiced her greatly that her dear boy should have had the manliness to acknowledge his error; and it encouraged her to hope that he would never be guilty of a similar fault again. Willie is a conscientious boy. He sometimes does wrong, as in this instance, but when he reflects, he is always sorry.

Mrs. Dudley did not say any thing to Willie about the occurrence; but a few evenings afterwards as she was sitting at the tea-table alone, the others having all left, he came to her and stood by her side, leaning his elbow upon the table, and resting his head upon his hand.

She knew by his manner and his serious look that he had something in particular to say to her. She put her arm around him and drew him close to her.

"Mother," said he, "the other day, when you were gone, I peeped while Eddie hid the b.u.t.ton;" and then went on and told her all about it.

Mrs. Dudley talked with him a short time, and said he had done right in confessing his fault, and in refusing to profit by his wrong act.

She knew he was much happier than he could have been if he had done otherwise. "He that covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy." Willie found the happiness of an approving conscience; and I doubt not that Jesus looked down with love upon him, as he does upon all true penitents.

"There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth."

If Willie had not confessed his fault, and been sorry for it, his conscience would have been hardened and he would probably have "peeped" another time, when the children played the same game. But now, if he should be tempted in this way again, he would remember how much he suffered in consequence of having once yielded to a similar temptation, and would not allow himself to commit the wrong.

It is very important that children should early learn to confess their faults, and not form the habit of endeavouring to hide them from others. If they have injured any individual, they should apologize to that individual. Sometimes it is only necessary to confess to G.o.d, but we should not be satisfied with doing it in a general manner. Each wrong act, so far as we remember it, should be mentioned.

If we really love our heavenly Father, we shall wish to tell him all about ourselves. We shall have no desire to conceal any thing from him, and it will be a pleasure to us to think that he knows every thought and feeling of our hearts.

Willie had no wish to conceal from his mother the wrong he had done; he preferred to tell her about it; and I have no doubt he had previously told his Father in heaven.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."

THE CHRYSALIS.

"O mother, look here! What is this?" exclaimed Eddie, as he was in the garden with his mother and Mary and Willie. He was standing by a tall pole, around which a Lima bean-vine had wound itself. He had been gathering the great dry pods in a basket to preserve them for winter, when his grandmother would come to Clover-Hill to see her dear grandchildren. His attention had been attracted by something peculiar, and he immediately called his mother to come and see it. Mary and Willie ran to look. Mrs. Dudley found it was a beautiful green chrysalis, suspended by its silken cords to the vine. The colour was soft and delicate, and it was ornamented with a black line, and with bright golden spots.

"Isn't it pretty, mother?" "How did it get here?" and many more questions were rapidly asked, while the little folks carefully examined it.

Mrs. Dudley told them what it was, and that if they preserved it, they would in a few days see a b.u.t.terfly escape from it. Eddie looked up astonished. She also told them that it was once a worm, crawling about upon the earth; that it had climbed up, and suspended itself under the shelter of the leaves, to await its change into a new and more attractive form of being.

Mrs. Dudley took the chrysalis from the vine and carried it to the house, and put it on the mantle in her room. Every day the children looked at it to ascertain if there was any change. Soon the colour began to fade, and the delicate pea-green became an ashen white. Then it opened slightly, where there had from the first seemed to be lines of division, and they could peep in at the imprisoned insect. The opening became wider and wider, and one day, when Eddie came into the room and went as usual to look at the chrysalis, the sh.e.l.l was empty!

The b.u.t.terfly had escaped. He uttered an exclamation of mingled surprise and disappointment. As he turned his head, he saw, on the little cotton m.u.f.f of Mary's doll, the b.u.t.terfly for which he had so patiently watched.

"Here it is, mother!" he shouted in the most joyous tones, and his eyes sparkled with delight.

Eddie and his mother observed it for some time. Its long, slender legs rested on the m.u.f.f, and ever and anon it would open and close its brilliant wings, as if to try their power, or to dry the miniature feathers which adorned them. Its colour was a rich orange, shaded from the lighter tints to the deeper, and variegated with stripes of black.

The children examined it with a microscope, which made it appear even more beautiful and wonderful than before.

It remained on the m.u.f.f several hours, and then flew to the window, and alighted on the curtain. At evening, it was found on the cushion of a spool-stand, and there it pa.s.sed the night. The next day it disappeared, and the children saw it no more. It probably flew away through the open window, to enjoy its brief life under the smiling sun.

The children talked much about the transformations which had taken place in the life of that caterpillar. Their mother told them that the b.u.t.terfly was sometimes considered a type of immortality. In this world we are, like the worm, in an inferior state of existence. Our bodies are laid in the grave, but _we_ are not dead, any more than the unmoving chrysalis--which remained so long on the mantel just where it was placed--was dead. The spirit still lives, and, after it has freed itself from the imprisoning flesh, is more beautiful than before, and is susceptible of more perfect enjoyment in the pure atmosphere of heaven.

CHRISTMAS AT THE COTTAGE.

Mrs. Dudley's children look forward to Christmas with many antic.i.p.ations of pleasure, for several weeks before it comes. They are quite busy in preparing for it. Their mother is the repository of their secrets, and a.s.sists them by her advice in making their arrangements. Many important deliberations take place about mats, pin-cushions, and bookmarks.

As the day approached, the children often expressed the wish that it was here. A few days was a long time for them to wait. But time did not hasten. The hours were just sixty minutes, and the minutes just sixty seconds. The clock ticked on as usual. It was unmoved by all the excitement, and never, for an instant, quickened its pace.

When Sat.u.r.day came, their mother proposed that the presents should be distributed that evening. She did not like to have the children wish the Sabbath past, and on Monday morning there would be but little time to make their arrangements before the hour for school. She knew they would be quiet and happy if they had some new books to read, and would be perfectly willing to lay aside other gifts till Monday.

Mary wished to decorate the parlour with evergreens. Mrs. Dudley sent a man to get some for her. She and Willie arranged them in bunches and wreaths. Eddie helped all he could, and was as happy as any of them.

In the afternoon their mother a.s.sisted them. She put the bunches made of the delicate, feathery hemlock, and the dark glossy laurel, over the windows, and suspended the wreaths where the bay-windows projected from the room. Small branches of cedar and spruce were tastefully arranged in vases, relieved by the rich, green leaves of the ivy, and the bright, lively twigs of box.

The children wished for a Christmas tree, but the evergreens they had were all too small for that purpose Mrs. Dudley suggested that the hat-stand might be subst.i.tuted. They were delighted, and immediately busied themselves in adorning it with garlands. It proved quite ornamental, and the pegs served a very useful purpose. Mary arranged on some strips of white paper the words, "A merry Christmas." The letters were made of the small leaves of the box, and were fastened on with gum-arabic. These were placed amid the wreaths on the transformed hat-stand.

When all these arrangements were completed to their satisfaction, they left the room. Mrs. Dudley remained some time longer. When she left, the door was locked.

Mr. Dudley returned from the city, where he had been spending the day, bringing some friends with him. Tea was speedily despatched, and then all the family were summoned. The parlour door was unlocked. There were various toys, baskets, and reticules suspended on the hat-stand.

There was a nice little felt hat for one of Mary's dolls, and a looking-gla.s.s for the baby-house, and an embroidered cushion, which Willie's industrious fingers had made for Minnie Dudley, as the doll is called--a far better employment for him, I think, than throwing it about and treating it roughly, as I have sometimes heard of boys doing. There were humming-tops, which reminded me, by their music, of the great spinning-wheel that whirred away in my mother's kitchen when I was a child. There were graces, and battle-doors, and jack-straws for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the children when it was too cold or stormy to play out of doors.

On a table was an array of slippers, which Mary and her mother had wrought for father and the boys. There was merry capering when they were transferred to the feet of their owners. I shall not tell you whether Mr. Dudley so far forgot his dignity as to partake of the excitement, but I am quite sure he was much gratified by the present Mary had made for him with her own hands, and that he kissed his thanks with great fondness.

Most valuable of all to the little folks, and most gladly welcomed, were the books. How eagerly they looked them over.

There was a present to Mrs. Dudley from her children, which I must not forget to tell you about. It was a plain gold pin, in which, neatly plaited, were six bunches of hair. One of them was dark, streaked with gray--the others were auburn, flaxen, and brown. She knew whence the treasures came to unite in that beautiful mosaic, and the tears were ready to start from her eyes as she received that precious token of family love.

When I was a child, I heard little about Christmas. It came and went without my knowledge. But I enjoy the return of it very much now, and sympathize with children in the interest with which they regard it. I like to think they are treasuring up such cheerful memories to make their early home attractive to their age.

The little Dudley's will always like to look back to this pleasant evening, and wherever they are, their hearts will warm more fondly on account of it to their father's cottage, nestled in the valley, and they will be in less danger of forgetting the lessons of love and kindness they have learned there.

I WILL CONQUER MYSELF.

In one of the oldest towns of New-England there lived, many years ago, a little girl, whom I shall call Helen Earle. Her father had been engaged in the East Indian trade, and had acc.u.mulated great wealth.

Her mother was a sweet, gentle woman, who most tenderly loved her children, and endeavoured to correct their faults, and develop their excellencies. In Helen's home there was every comfort and every luxury that heart could desire, but she was not always happy. She had one fault, which often made herself and her friends very unhappy. It was the indulgence of a violent temper. She would allow herself to become exceedingly angry, and her usually beautiful face was then disfigured by pa.s.sion. Her mother was greatly grieved and distressed by these outbreaks of ill temper, and did all in her power to restrain them.

She talked with her daughter earnestly in regard to the sin of such a temper. Helen would weep bitter tears, and express much regret for the past, but she could not quite make up her mind to determine to overcome temptation. The task seemed too difficult, and she shrunk from the attempt.

Mrs. Earle shed many tears in secret over this sad failing in her beloved child, and most fervently pleaded for help from Him who had given her the care of this immortal spirit to educate for eternity.

She knew that G.o.d alone could change Helen's heart, and give her power to overcome sin, even though a.s.saulted by the fiercest temptation.

One day, when Helen was very angry at something which had occurred, her mother led her up stairs to her own room and left her alone. For a time she cried violently, then she grew calm and quiet, and her mother could hear her walking back and forth across the room, talking to herself. She listened. How her heart rejoiced when she heard her repeating, again and again, "I WILL CONQUER MYSELF! I WILL CONQUER MYSELF!"

And Helen did conquer herself. She had come to the determination, not that she would try to conquer, but that she would conquer, and, by the gracious help which is always given to those who ask,--she n.o.bly succeeded. From that hour she was able to overcome the temptation, and was not overcome by it. She grew up to womanhood remarkable for the evenness and gentleness of her temper. None, who had not known her in childhood, would have suspected that she was not always thus mild and lovely.

Helen did for herself what no earthly friend could do for her. By the power of her will she controlled her impulses, and this triumph was of far more value to her than all the wealth of her father. It made her a blessing to her friends, strengthened all her good purposes, and enabled her to perform the duties of life without the friction which a bad temper always occasions. It gave her that true self-respect which elevates the character, and which none can feel who are not conscious of the power to rule their own spirits.

No child is blamed for having a quick temper, but he is blamed if he allows himself to be overpowered by it. If he really determines, as Helen did, to conquer himself, he will succeed. The old proverb, "Where there is a will, there is a way," will never fail in such a case as this. "G.o.d helps those who help themselves," and he is ever ready to a.s.sist us in subduing what is wrong in our own spirits.

The Bible contains many pa.s.sages which condemn anger: "He that is soon angry, dealeth foolishly." "Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry, for anger resteth in the bosom of fools." "Make no friendship with an angry man, and with a furious man thou shalt not go." "He that is slow to wrath is of great understanding, but he that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly." "Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath; for the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of G.o.d."