ter this letter had been received, Mrs. Western's
birthday arrived, when it was usual for her children to have a holiday
and a little treat. On the morning of this day, as Emma was running up
stairs, her mamma called to her from her dressing-room, and desired
her to come in, and to shut the door. Emma did as she was bid; and
then Mrs. Western, with a smile on her face, told her to look round,
and try if she could discover anything in the room that she had not
seen before.

Almost before her mother had done speaking, the little girl fixed her
eyes upon a handsome work-box, standing upon the table with the lid
open, and showing a lining of pale blue silk, edged with silver; while
within were scissors and thimble, an abundance of needles and cotton,
everything, in short, that Emma had long been wishing for in vain.

"It is yours, my dear," said her mamma; "it is a present from your
aunt Harding, who, in her letter, requested me to choose for you on my
birthday something that you would like, if your conduct should have
been such as to deserve a token of our approval. I am happy to see
that you strive to amend your faults, and I trust that you will still
go on trying to improve."

"O, mamma, how beautiful! and how kind in aunt Harding! Indeed I will
try to deserve it." And the little girl went close to the box, and
looked at its contents, but without venturing to touch them; then
gently closing the lid, she stood gazing upon it with silent delight.

"But, mamma," said Emma, looking up with a sudden thought, and casting
her eyes round the room as if in search of something which was not to
be seen, "where is Louisa's present? She would like a writing-desk, I
know; for the old work-box which she has had so long is not yet worn
out, because she is so very careful."

"I am sorry to say," returned Mrs. Western, "that Louisa is not
deserving of any present, and therefore it would have been wrong to
provide one for her."

At hearing this, Emma changed color, and looked almost ready to cry.
"Dear mamma," said she, "do pray have pity on poor Louisa. I cannot
bear to show her my beautiful box, if she is not to have a present
too. She would be so much grieved."

"My dear," said Mrs. Western, "do you not perceive that it would be
unjust and contrary to your aunt's wish, if, while Louisa gives way to
her faults, I were to treat her as though she were seeking to overcome
them? It is quite as painful to me as to yourself to make thi