MARY AND HER DRAWER;
OR, NOTHING MADE BY GETTING ANGRY.
I cannot curb my temper,
I might as well have tried
To stop, with little pebbles,
A river’s rapid tide.
My good resolves I hardly form,
When trifles raise an angry storm.
Child’s Christian Year.
The church bells were sending forth their merry chimes, and hundreds of children were wending their way to the Sabbath-school. Mary was late that morning, and ran very quickly to her drawer, in which were kept her gloves, hymn-book, catechism, &c., and endeavored to jerk it open at once; but in so doing she got it crooked, and it would move neither way.