t, and
whenever mamma thought about the mistake. But one week after another
passed on, Mr. Codman preaching once in a while, until Spring came
again.

When Emma was a year and a half old, she was full of mischief; and
Josey, who was now five, sometimes got out of patience. He was just
learning to read, and liked nothing better than to sit on Aunt Fanny's
knee and hear her tell stories. Sometimes Emma, finding no one
watching, would get to mamma's basket and overturn all the spools, or
tangle the thread, and then Aunt Fanny had to start up and attend to
her, and stop the stories very short.

Or baby would climb on a chair to her brother's shelf and pull his nice
books to the floor. Once, indeed, he came in from a walk, and found
mamma busy with a caller, and Emma, who had been left there while Nurse
went an errand, doing a great deal of mischief. She had a new book in
her hand, and just as he found her she was tearing out three or four
leaves, laughing and shouting with delight. Josey ran to take his book
away; but it was too late. His Christmas present was spoiled. Poor boy!
he cried as if his heart would break, and was very angry with his
sister, more so than his mamma had ever seen him. He struck her little
fat hand, exclaiming,--

"You are naughty! naughty! and I don't love you any more."

The visitor rose to go, and Mrs. Codman did not detain her. She was so
grieved at her little boy's actions, she could scarcely command her
voice to say "good-bye." She rung the bell for Ann, and then, taking
Josey by the hand, led him away to his own chamber.

He glanced up into his mamma's face and saw it was very white, and he
began to be sorry for his bad temper.

"Oh, Josey!" she commenced at last, seating him on her knee, "do you
know how you've grieved mamma?" and then the tears began to roll down
her cheeks.

"Emma tore my best book," he said, softly.

"Emma is only a baby, Joseph, and didn't know any better. If you hadn't
struck her, papa would have bought you another one. But, Josey, you
gave way to your anger, and told your darling little sister that you
didn't love her."

"I think she's too big to tear my pictures out," he said, sighing.

"She must be taught to let your things alone," answered mamma, "and you
must remember to put them out of her way; but all the pictures in the
world wouldn't excuse you for treating her so unkindly. Don't you
remember that pretty verse you learned last Sunday? 'Be kindly
af