CHARI

I. HOW DID IT HAPPEN.

HARLIE W-- was one of the most lovable boys in Miss Greene's school. His frank, manly face won instant regard, and as the days lengthened into weeks and months, there grew up between the boy

and his teacher a mutual love and confidence that was ripening into a lifelong friendship.

"Mamma, can't I have some roses for

my Miss Greene?" was a frequent morning request that revealed the boy's attitude toward his teacher, always one of love and trust, never one of fear.

Charlie was a little fellow, eight years of age, and consequently recited in the lower classes to the assistant teachers. He was a genuine boy, full of animal spirits, which sometimes made him restless in his class and troublesome to his teachers.

Miss Greene kept the government of her school chiefly in her own hands. Yet she gave a certain part of it to her teachers. "Speak once, pleasantly. A repetition of the offense may come from forgetfulness, but the child must learn not to forget; therefore call him to you for a quiet talk, in which, while you admit that he may have forgotten, you impress the fact that this is a warning and that a third offense must send him to me. This talk is your chance to get a hold upon the pupil. At a third offense, speak pleasantly but gravely and firmly, and send him to

me.

This establishes your authority. I shall never decide a case without hearing your side of the question."

Charlie had been growing restless in Miss O's classes for several days, and was approaching one of those crises which must come once in a while to every wideawake boy. With the confidence which always existed between Miss Greene and

soon.

her assistants, Miss O- said one day: "I fear I shall have to send Charlie to you He seems to have been good as long as he can. I have talked to him, but reaction is possible. I think he must go a little farther before If he does, I shall have to send him to you." Before the class in arithmetic was over, Charlie was again lawless and disorderly, and Miss O- said, gravely,

"Charlie may report himself to Miss Greene at recess."

The boy sobered instantly, and gave no farther trouble. At recess Miss O-- said to Miss Greene: "I have told Charlie to come to you this recess. He has not done it yet. What shall I do if he does not obey me?"

"When your next class comes into the recitation-room, say very quietly that he has not obeyed you, and that you can not receive him in any of our classes until he has done so."

During the remainder of the recess Miss Greene quietly watched the boy. His heightened color and evident avoidance of her eye told her that he was having a struggle with himself. She therefore remained at her desk instead of moving about as usual, and smiled at him, if she happened to catch his eye, that he might be encouraged to come to her frankly.

"Charlie has not yet reported to Miss Greene, and I can not have him in any my classes until he obeys me. You may go now, Charlie."

The poor little fellow looked up, with the perspiration standing in great drops upon his flushed face.

"Miss O, I'know I have got to go; I know I must go, but it- -seems as if I couldn't."

Miss O

swallowed the lump that came into her own throat. It was not obstinacy that had the child in its grasp, and she was prompt to offer help.

"Yes, Charlie, you must go; but if it will help you I will go with you."

"No," he shook his head. "I'd rather go alone. Please may I sit still just a minute and think about it," he implored.

"Yes, for a moment, but I can not let you take up too much of the time of the class."

The silence was dreadful while the little fellow struggled, and the others looked on in sympathy. At last little May could bear it no longer, and, unconscious of the presence of others, she sighed, "Oh, if he would only go quick, and have it over, how much better it would be!"

"Yes, indeed, it would. Now, Charlie, I can wait no longer."

The boy rose to his feet, look two steps toward the door, but sank back into his seat with a despairing "I can't!"

Then Miss O— went to the rescue, and taking him firmly by the hand, said, "I will go too, but you must come now."

Miss Greene looked up from the Latin recitation, and waited for the trembling child to speak.

"Miss O"For what?"

sent me to you."

"My foot slipped in the class."

"Did Miss Osend you to me for that, Charlie? Was it not because you were troublesome in more ways than one, and because you did not mind when spoken to?"

To each question he answered promptly

and frankly, as he always did when questioned as to his misdeeds.

"You may go to your seat now, and I will attend to you after school," said Miss Greene, gravely; and the Latin recitation went on in a great hush of sorrow and sympathy, for every one loved Charlie, from the seniors downward, and all were full of regret to see him in disgrace, though he was too far away for them to know the cause.

II. THE CAUSE OF THE LIE.

The classes went on as usual, but Miss Greene was constantly dwelling upon Charlie's lie. Once before the thing had happened, under somewhat similar circumstances, but that was when he first entered school, and fear might have been the cause. Now that could not be the case, for Charlie loved her devotedly. There was not a grain of untruthfulness in the boy's nature, and as Miss Greene recalled his always prompt confession on being questioned, she became convinced that the lie originated in the child's inability, at the moment of his shame and confusion, to put into language what he wished to say, a conviction strengthened by later experiences. In fact, Miss Greene grew to believe that a large proportion of the lies told by children, who are not habitually untruthful, are told from the same cause. In the conflicting emotions of the moment, the power of connected thought seems paralyzed; the first sentence, consciously framed, comes out, without premeditation or intent of untruthfulness. That this was the true solution of the problem over which so many teachers have grieved, when otherwise good children have been detected in a lie, Miss Greene grew confident, as she recalled answers given her when she had asked of some erring child, "How could you tell me a lie?" "I never meant to, Miss Greene; I did not know I was going to;" "It slipped out before I knew it was coming;" "I don't know how it happened;" and a score of others. These actual answers in actual experiences, reveal the child's helplessness before the sin-possibilities of his tainted moral nature, unaided by principle, but do not indicate any strain of deceit, inherent in the child's nature. None the less must such lies be dealt with, and the child taught to stop and think before answering, when he feels confused.

"When I speak to you, do you not expect to obey?"

"Yes, ma'am, always."

"When any teacher speaks you must obey just the same. I put these teachers over you because I can not take care of you all, but you must obey exactly as if I spoke. Now, for these three disobediences I must punish you. You must stay a half hour after school for each one; but, Charlie, when I asked why you were sent to me, you told me a lie!"

"I didn't mean to, Miss Greene."

"I know you did not, and that it came out without your realizing that it was going to be a lie; but it was one, and I can not let you tell me a lie. You know I think a lie is the meanest, most cowardly thing a boy can be guilty of. Have you forgotten our talk about that, last fall, Charlie?"

"No, ma'am," and Charlie's eyes filled to the brim with tears. Unconsciously he drew nearer to Miss Greene, and leaned harder against her as he recalled that "talk," whose influence had kept him right so long.

"I have thought that you remembered it, and have been so pleased that, for many months now, you have been strictly truthful. It hurts me to think that you failed to-day. I can not bear to think that my boy has failed in manliness, in controlling himself until he could think what was the right thing to say, and so has grieved not only his teacher but also his loving Father in heaven. And then, Charlie, you know I told you that I should always punish a lie, though any other fault I could forgive, if frankly confessed. For disobedience to Miss O-- you must stay

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a half hour, but a lie is a disobedience which is far worse, and for the lie you must stay two half hours. It is late now, and your mother will be anxious if you stay longer. I will write her a note to say that I shall keep you every day for a week, and we will begin to-morrow. Good by, Charlie. Remember that, though she must punish him, Miss Greene is very sorry for her little boy, and she loves him, too," and she drew the little fellow nearer and His him kisses, not one nor two. gave heart was full. He gave Miss Greene a hasty hug, and went away with only "Good by" at the door.

IV. IMPRESSING THE LESSON.

The next day when school was dismissMiss ed, Charlie remained in his seat. Greene came to him with a half sheet of foolscap, at the top of which appeared a written copy.

"Read this if you can, Charlie."

"I must obey Miss O―."

"Take your pen and write this copy as many times as you can in the half hour. Every time you finish it, read it over and think about it. This is the first lesson to learn, for this is where you failed first."

"Yes, ma'am," and Charlie set to work very earnestly. At the end of the half hour the paper was well covered.

"Sign your name, Charlie. I will keep this paper until I see whether you have really learned the lesson."

The boy looked up quietly and happily, and his teacher felt that the half hour had borne good fruit.

The second day's copy was, "It is mean and cowardly to tell a lie." The little face flushed and grew sober, but the pen worked steadily through the half hour. Charlie signed his name and handed in the paper, with an air of being for the first time really acquainted with himself.

"I shall be so glad Charlie, if this lesson is learned for life!"

A quick, pleased look relieved the downcast face, and with a loving "Good by" the boy bounded down the steps and ran home to dinner.

On the third day Charlie nestled against Miss Greene as he read in a half whisper, "It grieves Miss Greene and mamma if I tell a lie."

It is needless to say that if the first two lessons had produced a good effect, the third one did not fail. As the paper was

laid on Miss Greene's desk, a look on the child's face seemed to say, "We both know that this will not happen again." On the fourth and fifth days Charlie had similar tasks to write out, each containing a moral lesson.

"Charlie, are these five lessons really learned?" asked Miss Greene, looking at the different sheets, and then at the boy, who stood quiet and subdued with a beautiful, tender expression on his face, that bore witness to his penitence.

"I hope so, Miss Greene."

"Ah, Charlie, so do I! And now my boy, your week is ended. Is there not one thing more you ought to do before you leave this week behind and begin on a clean, white one."

Miss Greene waited for the little brain to travel over the whole field and return to the present.

"I haven't said I am sorry, but I am." "I know that very well, Charlie. Is there not some one else who ought to know it, too? some one who has been sorry for you all these days?"

The door was open, and Miss Greene could not avoid witnessing the reconciliation. In his fractious mood Charlie had not liked Miss O, but her hearty acceptance of his manly apology and the sympathy and love in her voice, touched a chord that was ready to vibrate, and the two became fast friends.

After a year, during which no teacher ever had cause to complain of him, Charlie went out into the world of a boy's school, and Miss Greene never knew for how long Charlie had learned his lesson. She knew that it had lasted a year, and had strengthened the boy's love for his teachers. She was satisfied to leave consequences with the One to whom only consequences belong.

STAND FAST

An English farmer saw a number of huntsmen coming on horseback. He did not want them to go over one of his fields, because the crop was in such a condition that it would be injured and perhaps destroyed by the tramp of the horses. So he put his hired boy at the gate and told him not to open it. On came the hunters and commanded him to open the gate. He refused. They offered him money. He would not take it. Then a noble-looking man rode up and said, "My boy, I am the Duke of Wellington, and I command you to open the gate." The boy took his cap off and said, "I am sure that the Duke of Wellington would not wish me to disobey orders. I must keep this gate shut; no one to pass through but with my master's express permission." The Duke was pleased, and, lifting his hat, said, "I honor the man or boy who can

be neither bribed nor frightened into doing wrong. With an army of such soldiers, I could conquer not only the French, but the world.”

BABY'S GOT A TOOTH.
"George, get up and light a fire,
Turn the gas a little higher,
Go and tell your aunt Mariar,
Baby's got a tooth!"

A lady of the Middle Ward who has waited anxiously for the appearance of the first tooth in the mouth of her darling, startled the entire household, and some of the neighbors, by her frantic joy as she exclaimed, "Baby's got a tooth! Baby's got a tooth!" An examination by the entire household followed, when the grandmother, who had been munching pop-corn for baby, discovered that the supposed tooth was nothing but the husk of the kernel, which had adhered

HOW TO SCALD MILK-GOOD ADVICE

BY A WOMAN PHYSICIAN.

A summer subject of interest to all mothers with young children is thus discussed in the New York Tribune by Sarah E. Post, M. D., of that city:

To scald milk first take a thick glass bottlea soda-water bottle will do-fill it with milk nearly up to the neck and place it uncorked in a kettle of cold water. Gradually bring this to a boil, and continue the boiling for forty minutes, then cork the bottle while the steam is escaping, with a rubber cork, and remove it. Milk thus prepared will keep for a month in a cool place. This statement may seem extravagant, but it can be proved true. Dr. Herman Knapp, of this city, has in his laboratory flasks of milk which are months old and are yet perfectly sweet.

The method of preserving by boiling in an open vessel and corking during the escape of steam is familiar to all who had canned fruit. This method has not been earlier applied to milk perhaps because curdling has been considered natural to milk after a certain period and something which could not be avoided. Since the progress of the germ theories, however, it has been shown that even this every-day phenomenon is due to a fermentation, and that, like many other fermentations, it depends upon the

growth of a minute vegetable organism similar in character to yeast or mold. The milk is tainted by the germs of this organism through the can or bottle which receives it, or by contact with the atmosphere, perhaps; and the organism develops, at the expense of nutriment in the milk, with the formation of acid and gas.

This development can be postponed by keeping the milk cold—our usual way of preserving its sweetness. Though sweet, however, it will be seen that cold milk is not necessarily pure; it may contain the germs which, introduced into the stomach, will find the heat needed; and fermentation occurs there, with colics and even more serious complaints as its result. It is now considered that the introduction of these germs with the food is the greatest danger in hand feeding.

In preserving milk as fruit is preserved we achieve two advantages over our ordinary methods. By the heat applied we pretty thoroughly destroy any germs in the process of development; while by corking during the escape of steam we exclude air and later contamination. Further, the disagreeable scum usual in boiled milk is avoided and the taste of the milk is unchanged. It is hoped that this dainty and effective way of preserving milk will be widely adopted during the coming months. For babies' use it can not be too strongly recommend