in the balance, as if he had been employed before a judge in weighing his own merits.

"Our actions shall all be weighed in the balance," was another saying of the old grandfather; and Whateley never weighed his dough, without thinking of it, and at the same time saying to himself,

My weight shall not be found wanting." By these means, the baker and his bread became so celebrated, that people sent for it from all parts of the town and country so that in the course of a very few years, he became one of the richest, and most influential men in his vicinity. The baker was wise enough to reflect that he would not live for ever in this world, that it was both his duty and his interest to prepare for another, that his best way to do so was to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with his God.

Reflection taught the baker his several duties; habit, and an earnest desire to please his Great Master, enabled him to persevere in the path of rectitude which he had chalked out for himself. Very few people would err, were they gifted with a reflecting mind; want of thought is the rock upon which so many young people are shipwrecked. Were children taught to think, and to reflect, there would be far less misery in the world than there now is, but unfortunately these are things which the generality of teachers never think of; they are not unfrequently as devoid of thought as the children they instruct.

Nothing can be done well without thinking. It is man's prerogative, and it is a pity that so precious a gift should be so little cultivated.

"But come, my little sisters, it is now your turn to read; so take your book and read about the washerwoman."

CHAPTER V.

"I saw her fall, he cried, and more had spoke,
Could more the mother have heard: she dropped."

STORY OF MOLLY PARKER.

MOLLY PARKER was the daughter of a poor washerwoman; and as poverty is not favourable to the tenderer feelings, poor Molly did not meet with that kind treatment which was calculated to make a good impression upon her mind. Whenever any thing went wrong with the washerwoman, she vented her ill humour upon her innocent little daughter; so that poor Molly was often beat without committing a fault, and as often escaped punishment when she did commit one. The con

sequence was, that the poor child did not know right from wrong. No child should be punished except when he does wrong, and not even then, if

the child become sensible of his fault, and is sorry for it. The intention of punishment, is, to make people better, not to harden them in crime, as it always must do when injudiciously exercised.

One very cold winter's day, when the little boys in the street had made slides in every direction, Molly went and slid with the boys, and when her mother called her, she refused to obey her, saying, "I am very cold, and I will not leave the slide until I have warmed myself by sliding a little longer; for you will not beat me more for staying half an hour longer, than you would, were I to return home now."

Upon this, the washerwoman got into a rage of passion with her little daughter, and ran after her, while, the child to escape from her mother got behind a cart which was standing in the street, at the very moment that a carriage in full speed drove by, and the poor little Molly was crushed to death between the cart and the carriage.

"What a nasty cross washerwoman she must have been," said Hannah Smith, after she had read her lessons; "I dare say she was very sorry for being angry, after she saw that it killed her child."

"The washerwoman had every reason to be unhappy," replied Agnes; "for if she had brought up her child properly, she would not have disobeyed her."

"But you know, sister, that the washerwoman

was very poor, and perhaps she could not afford to instruct her."

"She could have treated her kindly," said Agnes. "Where the washerwoman erred, was in punishing her child when she had committed no fault; and I do think, a mother that pursues such a system, should be put into a mad-house. It is a pity, there is no public institution for the reception and punishment of worthless mothers. But go now, my little sisters, and take your copy books and write."

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Willy," said Agnes, addressing her brother, "you will never write well unless you hold your pen rightly. You must hold it between your thumb and fore and middle fingers; and you must not grasp it hard, but hold it lightly in your hand. Only be careful how you hold your pen, and you may then learn to write, almost without the aid of a master."

"Will you tell me, dear sister," asked Jane, "if I hold my pen as I ought?"

"You certainly hold it better than your brother, though there is still room for improvement; but considering how short a time it is since you began to write, you really do wonders."

"Dear Agnes," cried Jane, "you love to make all the world pleased with themselves. I am sure, were I taught by any one but you, I should never learn to write; for I can do nothing when I am discouraged."

"That is because you are too diffident of your own powers; but you must seek to overcome that feeling, for you know that nothing can be acquired without application and perseverance."

After the little Smiths knew something of numbers, and could read pretty well, Agnes instructed them in the different rules of arithmetic, in addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.

"Is arithmetic, and numbers, and units, all the same?" asked Willy.

Many units, make numbers," said Agnes. "What are units?"

"Units are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0." "And what are fractions?"

"The half, or any part of an unit. You hold a fraction in your hand at this very moment; that farthing is a fraction, it is the fourth part of a penny. But come now, my little folks, we have given up a long time this day to instruction, we must now set about doing some work. Go you, Jane, and make up a good fire, for it is nearly time to begin to prepare father's dinner. And Willy, you will go to the cellar and bring up a box of coals for your sister. And Hannah, my little love, you will wash the potatoes, while I prepare the bacon and greens."

Like clock-work, all were in motion in an instant. A single word from Agnes was enough to her brother and sisters; it was their greatest pleasure to obey her. When the bricklayer returned to his