CHILDREN like to have some things that they can call their own. This is right; but never for a moment should they wish to possess, even in name, that which belongs to another. A borrowed article should be carefully used and then returned, while all the time we should bear in mind that another's property is confided to our care. If this principle is impressed in childhood, it will follow one through life. And oh, how many terrible failures it would prevent! 

How many would by this means become persons of honor and of trust, who otherwise become defaulters, bankrupts, and often criminals.

While handling the property of your mates, be careful to do so with their full consent, without even a wish to call it yours. It may be only a top, or a ball, or a pair of skates, yet if it is not yours, you should be very careful of it, and not wish to own it, unless you can purchase it by fair and honorable dealing. But do not try to be an adept in trade; i. e., to buy cheap and sell dear, for that is low and dishonorable.

To borrow a book, or an umbrella, or such articles as may be proper to borrow, and return them in due time, is honorable; but if they are not returned, it is swindling. 

How many libraries are lost by lending! The borrower forgets or neglects to return a book until years have elapsed; then the owner forgets his loss, and the borrower thinks that he has a book of his own; but God has that book catalogued on high. Be careful of mine and thine.




BOYS, never let any one say of you, "He is sowing his wild oats;" for there is a very old Book which says, "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."

When I hear any one say of a boy, "Oh, he is a little wild, smokes and drinks a little, I believe, but then he will come out all right, he is only sowing his wild oats;" I always say to myself, "I would not give much for that boy."

When I see a boy smoking his first cigar, I always think of the harvest, foul breath, a palsied hand, impaired memory, ruined health. When I see a boy drinking his first glass, I see also, not far off, a sorrowing mother, a ruined home, a blighted name, a lost soul.

When I see a boy spending his time in idleness, his Sabbaths in pleasure, his evenings in the bar-room, I see in the misty distance a decrepit, miserable, drunken old age; for friends will grow weary in working and praying for his reform. Death will have its victim; and in imagination I see a shallow grave, a rude coffin, a burial where there are no tears, no sighs, no regrets. His mother died long ago of a broken heart; his father went sorrowing to an early grave. Who is there to mourn for the drunkard?

Boys, if you have any regard for your good name, any love of home, any hope of Heaven, don't give any one reason to say of you, "He is sowing his wild oats;" "for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." 

Edith M. Lisle.