THE DUNCES' BENCH.
The other day the Postmistress was riding in a horse-car, and she saw a lad whom she will call Jack, though she does not know his name. He was in the company of a sweet-looking old lady, who seemed to be his grandmamma. Jack was a fine healthy boy, large for his age, which was about twelve. But, dears—would you believe it?—he allowed the old lady to carry her own little basket and bundle; and when they left the car, this thoughtless boy jumped nimbly off and ran to the sidewalk, while the feeble grandmamma was helped down by the conductor, and then tottered on as well as she could, by herself.
You would have assisted her, would you not, had it been your grandmother, and given her your arm, and carried her bundles? Of course you would.
Probably Jack does not read Harper's Young People.