THE YOUTH'S CABINET.

The Four: Words.

« ( SOGVE ovr little words did

~“Y me more good,
when I was a boy,
than almost any-
thing else,” said a
Doing friend to me the
other day. “I can-

| not reckon up all
SSR the good they have
» RD | done; they were the first

 

¢! We ~ words: that my mother
ee Ms taught me.”
i “Indeed! What were
Vitae the four little words?’
said I.

He answered me by relat-

ing the following story :
My father grafted a pear-tree ; it was
a very choice graft, and he watched it
with great care. The second year, it
blossomed, but it bore but.one pear. It
was said to be a very nice kind of pear,
and my father was anxious to see if the
fruit came up to the promises of the
man who gave him the graft. This sin-
gle pear, then, was. an object of some
concern to my father. He wanted it to
become fully ripe. The high winds, he
hoped, would riot blow off the pear ; and

he gave express directions to all the

children on no account to touch it. The
graft was low, and easily reached by us.
It grew finely. “I think that graft
will meet my expectations,” said my fa-
ther many times to my mother. “1 hope
now there is some prospect of our having
good pears.”

Everybody who came into the garden
he took to the graft, and everybody said,
“Jt will prove to be a most excellent
pear.” It began to look very beautiful.

¥

 

95

It was full and round, a rich glow was
dyeing its cheeks, and its grain was clear
and healthy.

«Ts it not. almost ripe? I long for a
bite,” I cried, as I followed father one
day down the alley to the pear-tree.

« Wait patiently, my child ; it will not
be fully ripe for a week,” said my father.

I thought I loved pears better than
anything else. Iused often to stop and
look longingly up to this. Oh, how —
good it looks! I used often to think,
smacking my lips. I wish it was all
mine. The early apples did not taste
as good, the currants were not as relish-
ing, and the damsons I thought nothing
of in comparison with this pear. The
longer I stopped under the pear-tree,
the greater my longing for it. Oh, I wish
I had it! was the selfish thought that
gradually got uppermost in my mind.

One night, after we were in bed, my
brothers fell asleep long before I did; I
tossed about, and could not get to sleep.
It was a warm, still, summer night;
there was no moon; no noise except the
hum of numberless insects. My father
and my mother were gone away. I put
my head out of the window, and peeped
into the garden; I snuffed pleasant
smells. I traced the dark outlines of
the trees. I glanced in the direction of
the pear-tree. The pear-tree—then the
pear! My mouth was parched ; I was
thirsty. I thought how good would a
juicy pear taste. I was tempted.

A few moments found me creeping
down the back stairs, with neither shoes,
stockings, nor trowsers on. The slightest
creaking frightened me. I stopped on
every stair to listen. Nancy was busy
somewhere else, and John had gone to
bed. At last I fairly felt my way to the