Martha Kinsley.

Jennie, was that you laughing?"

asked Mrs. Seymour of a little girl, between

eight and nine years of age.

"It was, ma'am."

"Come up to my desk, then." Tremblingly

the little charity scholar approached

the teacher.

"This makes the second time you have

laughed aloud today; and as I have expressly

forbidden any such conduct, it remains

for me to do as I said I should punish


The fair-haired child held out her hand.

The ferule was about descending upon the

small, white palm.

"Hold, Mrs. Seymour!" exclaimed Martha

Kinsley. Her black eyes Flashed, and

her whole frame shook like a leaf. Little

Jennie was not to blame. I made a face, I

know; for I pinched my fingers twice in my

slate; and papa says when I turn up my nose

and throw down my eyes, it is enough to

make anybody laugh. And if any one is to

get a whipping, I am the one who deserves it.

If you will please whip me instead, I will

promise never to make any more faces when

I hurt myself, if I can help it."

Tears stood in the eyes of that proud

girl, who, though but eleven years old, quailed

not before the ferule that was still raised.

Every eye was on Martha, and the teacher

looked at both children as they stood before

her. The ferule dropped.

"No, Martha," exclaimed the teacher, "you

have acted nobly in saving her. Here is a

book I designed to give, on Friday afternoon,

to the best-behaved scholar; and I now present

it to you, both for your truthfulness and

nobility, and I hope this little transaction

will be a lesson to every pupil present. Be

always truthful, and never suffer another, to

receive chastisement for that of which you

may yourself be guilty." 

Western Home.

PRAY for them which despitefully use you.