UNOPENED FARCELS. 147

“Well, of course, to begin with, it teaches what
Mr, Tennyson says, you know, papa—‘ That men,’
and all that ; because Uncle Frederick turned his
—if you please let me call it fault—he was so
very little !—into a ladder of St. Augustine.”

Papa made no reply, perhaps guessing from my
voice that I had something else to say. But I
could noé say it where I was. I got up and, big
as I was, slipped on his knee, put my arms round
his neck, and whispered in his ear—

“‘ And then I ought to try to do the same: and
‘I intend, papa—I do indeed. When I am going
to be very cross I shall try and remember how hot-
tempered I have been, and that if I watch against
it very hard, perhaps I may be actually good-
tempered some day, and then I shall have got up
by my ladder.”

“ By the grace of God you will,” answered my
father, as he returned my embrace. “ And now
we have got both moral and application to our

story.”
% % st % i

“Just one thing more, papa,” I whispered, a
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