Henry Maxwell lives in the same town with Willie, and is of the same age.  These boys often play together.  I regret to be obliged to say that Henry is not so good a child as Willie.  He does not so promptly obey his mother, and of course he cannot be so happy.  Sometimes he pouts out his lips, when his mother wishes him to do something which he does not exactly like.

I one day heard his mother talking to him about his teeth.  She wished him to brush them again, as he had not done it thoroughly the first time.  It was astonishing to see how that fair, round face was disfigured by that ugly pout, and it was sad to hear his dissatisfied “I don’t want to.”  When his mother insisted on obedience, Henry reluctantly complied with her wishes, closing the door behind him with great violence.

His face was not sunny and bright like Willie’s, when he had tried to be good, but was dark and shady, like a clouded sky.  It was not pleasant to look upon, and it made the heart of his mother heavy and sad to see it.  I hope Henry will learn to be cheerful and prompt in his obedience to his mother, for, if he should not, the expression of his face will grow more and more disagreeable, till, when he is a man, it will look more like a chilly day in November, than a sweet, gladsome day in June.

I do not wish you should tell me, but I should like to have you ask yourself, when you have read about these two boys, which of them you are most like.  Is your face sunny, or shady?

“IT ISN’T FAIR.  I PEEPED.”

Willie and Eddie were playing Hide the Button.  After they had played some time, and it was Willie’s turn to find it, he came into the nursery with his face flushed, and evidently much excited.  “It isn’t fair,” said he, and the tears gathered in his eyes, and his lips quivered with emotion, “I peeped.  Eddie must hide it again;” and he went out of the room, for Eddie to put the button in another place.

Willie had been overcome by temptation.  He had done a dishonourable act, but his conscience was quick to reprove him, and he had listened to its admonitions.  There had been a short but severe struggle in his mind, and truth and honour had conquered.  He was brave enough to confess his fault, and to do what he could to make amends for it.

Mrs. Dudley was not at home, but a friend who had charge of the children told her the circumstance.  It rejoiced her greatly that her dear boy should have had the manliness to acknowledge his error; and it encouraged her to hope that he would never be guilty of a similar fault again.  Willie is a conscientious boy.  He sometimes does wrong, as in this instance, but when he reflects, he is always sorry.

Mrs. Dudley did not say any thing to Willie about the occurrence; but a few evenings afterwards as she was sitting at the tea-table alone, the others having all left, he came to her and stood by her side, leaning his elbow upon the table, and resting his head upon his hand.  She knew by his manner and his serious look that he had something in particular to say to her.  She put her arm around him and drew him close to her.