A tender voice,-poor little thrall!
So to my heart he grew.

I had a little bird;

My only friend was he;

And oft my heavy heart he stirred
With his sweet melody.

EDWARD HARRIS always spoke the truth. He would neither tell a lie nor act a lie.

It was a rule in the school where he went that there should be no whispering among the scholars

1 Pron. sprit'lę. 2 răpt'yur-us. 8 lit'lẹ. 4 fa-mil'yar.

6 lis'sn-Ing.

5 würth.

during school hours, without leave from the teacher; and every one who broke the rule had a bad mark, called an error, on the school record. Edward's father had promised to give him a little wheelbarrow at the end of the school term, if he had no errors.

The school house stood in a quiet place near a fine grove, where the birds sang and built their nests, and the little squirrels leaped and played. There was a rail fence behind the school house, not far from a window near which Edward sat.

One day a bold and merry little red squirrel came running along the fence, and, seating himself on the topmost rail, seemed to be looking into the school house. It so happened that just then Edward raised his eyes from his book. He forgot the teacher's rule about whispering.

"See! see that squirrel!" he exclaimed to John, the boy who sat next to him.

"He wants to come to school," said John, beginning to laugh.

"O, I forgot the rule," said Edward; "we must not talk."

The squirrel, with a bound, came down from its high seat towards the window.

"He is coming to school, sure enough," said John; "we will have him in our class, Edward." "Were you whispering, John?" asked the teacher.

"I was not whispering much," replied John, bending his head low to his book, and studying very fast with his lips.

"Still, you have broken the rule, and I must give you an error," said the teacher.

Edward thought of the wheelbarrow, but like an honest boy he spoke out. "I whispered too, sir." "I did not see you," said the teacher.

"I whispered first; and perhaps John would not have spoken if it had not been for me. I forgot the rule at the time."

"You must have an error too, then," said the teacher; "but you are an honest boy to own the truth, rather than to sit still and act a lie. You did wrong to disobey, but I am very glad that you were honorable enough to confess it."

Edward had never had an error before, and felt the shame of it very much. He knew that he should

not receive the wheelbarrow, and he felt as if he should cry; but he held back his tears, and studied as well as he could, with a heavy heart.

rail

rec'ord

heav'y

wheel'bar-row con-fess' stud'y-ing

be-fōre' stud'jed

XXXV.-THE HONEST BOY, CONCLUDED.

ONE morning after this, when Edward was the first one at school, he was surprised to see the teacher's inkstand upset, and the ink spilt over the table, and dripping upon the floor. When the teacher came, and asked who did the mischief, no one answered; but on further inquiry of a very honest boy, he said that it was so when he came, and that there was nobody present at the time but Edward.

"Did you do it, Edward?" said the teacher.

"No, sir," replied Edward.

"Somebody must have done it. All was right when I unlocked the school house door, and went for a walk. Who was the first at school this morning?”

"There was no one here when I came," answered Edward," and the ink was spilt then."

1 Pron. on'ur-a-bl.

"It is very strange," said the teacher, "but I believe you; I know that you are an honest boy, for you confessed the whispering when no one accused you. We will wait, and I am sure the guilty one will be found out."

The children looked round, wondering who the guilty one was, and thinking how badly he must feel. "I know it was not Edward," said one to another; for he tells when he does wrong, though nobody knows it. He would not keep still the other day to save himself from receiving an error; and to obtain a beautiful wheelbarrow, too, which his father had promised to give him."

School was not over, however, before there was a movement among the little ones nearest the table, and some of them pressed their hands tightly over their mouths, to keep from laughing aloud.

"Children," said the teacher, in a tone of reproof, "what is the matter?"

Instead of a drawer, there was a shelf set in the table, and on the front edge of this sat a cunning little squirrel, peeping forth to see if he might safely venture from his hiding-place. At sight of the teacher, he drew back into his corner, and was caught by him.

"Here, children," said the teacher, as he drew him out, "here is the ink spiller- a little rogue of a squirrel; his feet are black with ink now. I thought that we should ascertain who did the mischief. I felt certain that it was not you, Edward.”

Edward looked at the squirrel, and saw that he