The aunt who did so much that was kind had a habit of constantly snubbing her nieces and nephews. If they made a mistake, she spoke of it publicly. If a reproof was given, it was in the severest terms. Her face wore a frown most of the time, and she made everybody around her uncomfortable. And so, though her poor heart was hungry for affection, she got only a crumb of it, while the happy, merry, fun-loving auntie had a whole feast.
Many of you are taking piano lessons. If you are in company, and are asked to play, consent without waiting to be coaxed. If you intend to sing your new song, or perform your last piece, you will do so gracefully by beginning at once without persuasion. If you must decline, let it be because you feel that you do not play well enough to give pleasure to the listeners. Do not, of all things, say, with a little toss of the head and pout of the lips, "I can not play on any piano but my own." That is very ungracious as well as ungraceful, and besides, like most impoliteness, it hurts the feelings of others.
When you have a friend to entertain, let nothing that you do for him or her appear to give you trouble. Keep your difficulties out of sight, and let only the pleasant things come to the front. Watch mamma when she has guests, and you will observe that she never makes a fuss, nor seems to be in a flutter, and still she takes care of them, consults their wishes, and forgets nothing which can add to their happiness while under her roof.
You will learn how to do it, whatever it may stand for, by imitating your mother. Don't you think so?
We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to the article on "Egyptian History," and to "A River Gets Into Trouble," by Charles Barnard. The boys will be specially interested in an article on "Homing Pigeons," by Mr. C. W. Fisher.