h to fill all the branches. Rob
spent so much of his pocket-money on a knife for Sim that he had none
left for candy; for he said the tree would not give Sim so much pleasure
unless there was something on it which he could always keep."

Here little Bertha stopped for want of breath, and looked into the faces
of her listeners.

The parson put his arm around her as he said, "I hardly think we can
scold Rob now, after special pleading so eloquent as this; what do you
say, mamma?"

"I say that Rob is just like his father in doing this kindly deed, and I
am glad to be the mother of a boy who can return good for evil."

The parson made a bow. "Now we are even, madam, in the matter of
gracious speeches."

So Sim Jenkins woke up on New-Year's Day to see from his weary bed a
vision of brightness--a little tree laden with its fruit of kindness,
its flowers of a forgiving spirit; and as the parson preached his
New-Year's sermon, and saw Rob's dark eyes looking up at him, he thought
of the verse,

"In their young hearts, soft and tender,
Guide my hand good seed to sow,
That its blossoming may praise Thee
Wheresoe'er they go."

LAFAYETTE'S FIRST WOUND.

The Marquis of Lafayette came to this country to give his aid in the
struggle for liberty in 1777, and his first battle was that of the
Brandywine. Washington was trying to stop the march of the British
toward Philadelphia. There was some mistake in regard to the roads, and
the American troops were badly beaten. Lafayette plunged into the heart
of the fight, and just as the Americans gave way, he received a
musket-ball in the thigh. This was the 11th of September. Writing to his
wife the next day, he said:

"Our Americans held their ground firmly for quite a time, but were
finally put to rout. In trying to rally them, Messieurs the English paid
me the compliment of a gunshot, which wounded me slightly in the leg;
but that's nothing, my dear heart; the bullet touched neither bone nor
nerve, and it will cost nothing more than lying on my back some time,
which puts me in bad humor."

But the wound of which the marquis wrote so lightly, in order to
re-assure his beloved wife, kept him confined for more than six weeks.
He was carried on a boat up to Bristol, and when the fugitive Congress
left there, he was taken to the Moravian settlement at Bethlehem, where
he was kindly cared for. On the 1st of October he wrote again to his
wife:

"As General Howe,