THE LITTLE CULPRIT.
School had begun. The boys and girls were in their places, and the master was hearing them spell; when all at once there was a soft, low knock at the door.
"Come in!" said the master; and a little cleanly-dressed girl, about six years old, stood upon the threshold, with downcast eyes.
She held out before her, as if trying to hide behind it, a satchel, so large that it seemed hard to decide whether the child had brought it, or it had brought the child; and the drops on her cheeks showed how she had been running.
"Why, Katie!" cried the schoolmaster, "why do you come so late? Come here to me, little culprit. It is the first time you have been late. What does it mean?"
Little Katie slowly approached him, while her chubby face grew scarlet. "I—I had to pick berries," she faltered, biting her berry-stained lips.
"O Katie!" said the master, raising his forefinger, "that is very strange. You had to? Who, then, told you to?"
Katie still looked down; and her face grew redder still.
"Look me in the face, my child," said the master gravely. "Are you telling the truth?"
Katie tried to raise her brown roguish eyes to his face: but, ah! the consciousness of guilt weighed down her eyelids like lead. She could not look at her teacher: she only shook her curly head.
"Katie," said the master kindly, "you were not sent to pick berries: you ran into the woods to pick them for yourself. Perhaps this is your first falsehood, as it is the first time you have been late at school. Pray God that it may be your last."
"Oh, oh!" broke forth the little culprit, "the neighbor's boy, Fritz, took me with him; and the berries tasted so good that I staid too long."
The other children laughed; but a motion of the master's hand restored silence, and, turning to Katie, he said, "Now, my child, for your tardiness you will have a black mark, and go down one in your class; but, Katie, for the falsehood you will lose your place in my heart, and I cannot love you so much. But I will forgive you, if you will go stand in the corner of your own accord. Which will you do,—lose your place in my heart, or go stand in the corner for a quarter of an hour?"
The child burst into a flood of tears, and sobbing out, "I'd rather go stand in the corner," went there instantly, and turned her dear little face to the wall.
In a few minutes the master called her, and, as she came running to him, he said: "Will you promise me, Katie, never again to say what is not true?"
"Oh, yes, I will try—I will try never, never to do it again," was the contrite answer.
Then the master took up the rosy little thing, and set her on his knee, and said: "Now, my dear child, I will love you dearly. And, if you are ever tempted to say what is not true, think how it would grieve your old teacher if he knew it, and speak the truth for his sake."
"Yes, yes!" cried the child, her little heart overflowing with repentance; and, throwing her arms around the master's neck, she hugged him, and said again, "Yes, yes!"
FROM THE GERMAN.
THE DOLL-BABY SHOW.
Our doll-baby show, it was something quite grand;
You saw there the loveliest dolls in the land.
Each girl brought her own, in its prettiest dress:
Three pins bought a ticket, and not a pin less.
For the doll that was choicest we offered a prize:
There were wee mites of dollies, and some of great size.
Some came in rich purple, some lilac, some white,
With ribbons and laces,—a wonderful sight!
Now, there was one dolly, so tall and so proud,
She put all the others quite under a cloud;
But one of us hinted, in so many words,
That sometimes fine feathers do not make fine birds.
We sat in a row, with our dolls in our laps:
The dolls behaved sweetly, and met no mishaps.
No boys were admitted; for boys will make fun:
Now which do you think was the dolly that won?
Soon all was commotion to hear who would get
The prize; for the dollies' committee had met:
We were the committee; and which do you think
Was the doll we decided on, all in a wink?
Why, each of us said that our own was the best,
The finest, the sweetest, the prettiest drest:
So we all got the prize—we'll invite you to go
The next time we girls have our doll-baby show.
GEORGE COOPER.