he water.

As he handed the trinket to its owner, I could not help seeing that it
held the miniature of a lovely child, not more than four years old. The
hair was very light, and curled so sweetly, that the eyes were like Lily
Carrol's, only a little sadder; but the mouth seemed as ready to smile
as hers always is. The face was not at all like Dick's, but yet it
reminded me of what his might have been when a child.

"O, how beautiful!" I exclaimed involuntarily, as David placed it in
Dick's hand.

"Do you think so?" he asked, earnestly. "Look again at this merry face,
and tell me if it ever ought to have been saddened by sorrow."

"But, you know, 'by the sorrow of the countenance the heart is made
better,'" I replied, wishing to soothe the grief which he evidently
felt, as he held the miniature for me to look at it again.

"Better!" repeated Dick, sternly. "There could not be a better heart
than my sweet sister Louisa always had. That picture gives only a faint
idea of her lovely face, for it represents its least pleasing
expression, and she had not then reached the height of her beauty. Yet
it is very like," he added, gazing sadly upon it. "Even now I seem to
hear those rosy lips utter their first sweet lisp,--'Dear brother.'"

"No wonder that you loved her, if she was even prettier than this!" I
exclaimed; "for I could lay down my life for such a sister."

"I did not love her," he answered, to our great surprise. "You are
astonished at the confession; but I am not sure that, affectionate as
you boys both seem, you either of you know what true love is. I was
proud of Louisa. When she was an infant I liked to hear her praises; and
as she grew more and more beautiful, and began to pour out the first
woman feelings of her guileless heart upon me, I received them with
gratitude, and really believed she was, what I called her, 'my heart's
treasure.'"

"Then why do you say that you did not love her?" I inquired,
hesitatingly.

"Because years have convinced me," he replied, "that I was even then,
what I have ever since been, one mass of selfishness. I never gave up a
single wish for her pleasure, or made one effort to add to her
happiness. Never say, my boys, that you love any one, till you find your
own will giving way to the desire to please them, and that you can
cheerfully renounce your most cherished plans for their sake."

As he said this, Bennie, I asked myself whether it could be true that I
did not even l