A little boy seven years of age had his leg broken, and was carried home on a litter. His poor mother, who had been long ill and confined to bed, was much shocked when she heard of it. She attemped to rise, but fainted, and was obliged to return to bed.

The injury done to her poor little boy's leg was very severe, and he suffered a great deal of pain while it was being set, and while the bruises were dressed. But, during the whole operation, the child did not utter even one cry of pain. Every one present was surprised at his fortitude, and he was asked if he had not suffered much.

 "Oh! very much," said he, gently, "but I was so afraid of giving pain to mamma that I tried to keep from crying."

This boy afterward became one of the heroes of the Crimea.



 A beautiful boy lay dead, and his heart-broken parents were weeping over his cold body. Many friends gathered round with words of pity. Among them was a poor old woman who had received much kindness from the family. She wiped the tears from her withered face, and said to the mother, "Oh! He was so good and kind. 

How few young gentlemen would have come, as he did, last winter, in the deep snow, to split wood for an old woman! How beautiful and humble he came at your bidding!"

"It was not at my bidding!" replied the mother, " but at the promptings of his own noble heart, that he did that thing."

God, no doubt, accepted that little deed, and the memory of the dear boy remained in more than one heart when he was laid in the dust.


USE gentle words; for who can tell

The blessings they impart? 

How oft they fall, as manna fell,

On some nigh-fainting heart!

In lonely wilds, by light-winged birds, 

Bare seeds have oft been sown;

And hope has sprung from gentle words, 

Where only griefs had grown.