says we
cannot be his children unless we love one another. I think of that
sometimes, but sister Susan thinks of it much oftener than I do; and
when John and I get angry in our play, or speak cross to any one at
school, she will come, and say so sweetly, 'Little children, love each
other.'"

Mary told Nancy to remember her hymn at all times, and to be early at
Sunday school the next morning, to say it to her.

Mary found one of her scholars sick,--a little girl, named Sarah, who on
the Sunday before was as bright and as well as any child in school. Now
her hands were burning with fever, and her large dark eyes were dim with
disease. Once they brightened a little when Mary spoke to her of her
class, but she soon turned over her little head, and sunk into an uneasy
sleep. Her Testament was by her bedside, and her mother said that her
last effort, before she was taken ill, was to learn her Sunday lesson.
Mary watched by her all the afternoon: she lifted her aching head, and
spread under it the cool pillows: she bathed her burning temples, and
gently fanned her; and when, she gave the medicine, she silently prayed
that the means used for her recovery might be blessed. Sarah did not
speak, but when she opened her eyes she looked pleased that Mary was
beside her. She remained with the little sufferer until her brother came
for her in the evening, and promised to return the next day.

Isabella had gone to her room before Mary got home. She did not like to
meet her; for the unpleasant feelings had not left her bosom, though she
sincerely regretted her impatience. Pride now prevented her
acknowledging her fault. When alone, she took her Bible, and sat down to
read our Saviour's sermon on the mount. As the sacred precepts, one
after another, met her eye, she felt serious and humble. When she came
to the verse, "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there
rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy
gift before the altar, and go thy way: first be reconciled to thy
brother, and then come and offer thy gift;" she felt that Jesus Christ
had spoken these words directly to her. She had often read them before,
but never until this moment had they reached her heart.

"What gift have I to lay upon God's altar?" she said to herself: "prayer
is my only offering; one that I am now about to present. Will God accept
it while I am angry with my sister? O no! I will go this moment to her,
and confess my fault, an