A Short Lesson  


MRS. H. B. STOWE tells a story of Father

Morris, a venerable New England minister,

which we think may interest some of our

boys.

He had on his farm a fine orchard of

 peaches, from which some of the ten and

twelve year old gentlemen helped themselves

more liberally than the old gentleman thought

expedient.

Accordingly he took occasion to introduce

into his sermon one Sunday, in his little parish,

an account of a journey he took, and how

he saw a fine orchard of peaches that made

his mouth water to look at them.

"So," says he, "I came up to the fence

and looked all around, for I would not have

touched one of them, without leave, for all

the world. At last I spied a man, and, said

"'Mister, won't you give me some of your

peaches?'

"So the man came and gave me nigh a

handful. And while I stood there eating, I

said

"'Mister, how do you manage to keep

your peaches?'

"'Keep them!' he said, and stared at me.

'What do you mean?'

"'Yes,' said I, 'don't the boys steal

them?'

"'Boys steal them,' said he; 'no, indeed!'

"'Why, sir,' said I, 'I have a whole lot

full of peaches, and I cannot get half of them

(here the old man's voice grew tremulous)

because the boys in my parish steal them so.'

"'Why sir,' said he, 'don't their parents

teach them not to steal?'

"'And I grew all over in a cold sweat,

and told him I was afeard they didn't.'

"'Why, how you talk!' said the man;

'tell me where you live.'

"Then," said Father Morris (the tears

running over), "I was obliged to tell him

I lived in the town of G."

After this Father Morris kept his peaches.


—Select


A GOOD conscience is better than two witnesses

it will consume your grief as the sun

dissolves ice. It is a spring when you are

thirsty a staff when you are weary a

screen when the sun burns a pillow in

death.