"O MAMMA!" cried little Emma, "I've heard such a story about Mary Brown. I didn't think she would be so naughty.  One" 

"My dear," interrupted Mrs. White, "before you continue, we will see if your story will pass the three sieves."

"What does that mean, mamma?" inquired Emma.

"I will explain it. In the first place, is it true?"

"I suppose so; I got it from Ella Thompson, and she is a great friend of Mary's."

"And does she show her friendship by telling tales of her? In the next place, though you can prove it true, is it kind?"

"I did not mean it to be unkind, mamma; but I am afraid it was. I would not like to have Mary speak of me as I did of her."'

"And thirdly, is it necessary?"

"No, of course not, mamma; there was no need for me to mention it at all."

"Then put a bridle on your tongue, my child. If we cannot speak well of our friends, let us not speak of them at all."

LITTLE crosses, little cares, 

Little things that give us pain,

As we bear them ill or well, 

Turn to endless loss or gain.