re was a good mother whose chief prayer for her
little boy in his cradle was that he might have a loving heart. She did
not pray that he might be wise or rich or handsome or happy or learned,
or that others might love _him_, but only that _he_ might love.

When that little boy, whose name was Edward, grew up, it seemed as if
his mother's prayer had been answered, and that, in making it, she had
been wiser than she knew or dreamed.

She had not prayed that he might be _wise_; but somehow the love in his
heart seemed to make him wise, and to lead him to choose what is best,
and to remember all the good things he was taught.

She had not prayed that he might be _rich_; but it turned out that he
was so anxious to help and serve others, that he found the only way to
do that was to get the _means_ of helping: and so he became diligent,
thrifty, and prompt in business, till at last he had the means he
sought.

Edward's mother had not prayed that he might be _handsome_; but there
was so much love and good-will manifest in his face, that people loved
to look on it: and its expression made it handsome, for beauty attends
love like its shadow.

The prayer had not been that he might be _happy_; but--dear me! how can
there be love in the heart without happiness? Edward had no time for
moping discontent, for revenge, or anger. He was too busy thinking what
he might do for others; and, in seeking _their_ happiness, he found _his
own_.

But was he _learned_? Of course, when he found it pleased his parents
to have him attend to his studies, he did his best: and though there
were many boys quicker and apter than he, yet Edward generally caught up
with them at last; for love made him attentive and earnest.

But last of all, though Edward loved others, did others love him? That
is the simplest question of all. You must first _give_ love if you would
_get_ it. Yes: everybody loved Edward, simply because he loved
everybody. And so I advise those little boys and girls who think they
are not loved, to put themselves the question, "But do you love?"

EMILY CARTER.

CHARLEY'S OPINION.

THE girls may have their dollies,
Made of china or of wax:
I prefer a little hammer,
And a paper full of tacks.

There's such comfort in a chisel!
And such music in a file!
I wish that little pocket-saws
Would get to be the style