sbursement
of the Fourth of July funds.

"I can stay at home, then."

"That wouldn't be fair, Frank."

"Why not?"

"You not only rob yourself of the fun, but me too."

"I really pity the poor woman so much that I cannot find it in my heart
to spend the money foolishly, when it will buy so many comforts for
her."

"Your father will give you some money for her."

"That isn't the thing."

"What do you mean?"

"You went to meeting last Sunday?"

"Yes."

"And heard the sermon?"

"Some of it," replied Charles, smiling.

"You remember the minister spoke of the luxury of doing good; of the
benefit one gets by sacrificing his inclination for the good of others,
or something like that; I can't express it as he did, though I have the
idea."

Frank paused, and looked earnestly into the face of his friend, to
ascertain whether he was likely to find any sympathy in the heart of
Charles.

"I do remember it, Frank. He told a story to illustrate his meaning."

"That was it. I don't very often mind much about the sermon, but
somehow I was very much interested in that one."

"And so you mean to give your money to the widow Weston, just to see
how you will feel after it," added Charles with a laugh.

"No; that isn't it."

"What is it, then?"

"I will give it to her because I really feel that she needs it more
than I do. I feel a pleasure in the thought of sacrificing my
inclination for her happiness, which is more satisfactory than all the
fun I anticipate to-morrow."

"You'll be a parson, Frank."

"No, I won't; I will do my duty."

"Have you made up your mind?"

"We can have a good time at home."

"Pooh!"

"I shall give my money to the widow Weston, at any rate."

Charles Hardy could not but admire the generosity of his friend, though
he found it difficult to abandon the thought of the pleasure he
anticipated in spending the Fourth in Boston. He stood in silent
thought a few moments, and then spoke.

"Well, Frank," said he, "if you have determined to give your money to
the widow, I shall follow your example."

"But, Charley, I didn't mean to influence you. I will even go to Boston
with you, though I have no money."

"I will give my money to the widow. I think you are right."

"Good, Charley! I like you for it."

"I have two dollars and a quarter," continued Charles, taking the money
from his pocket.

"We shall make up just seven dollars. How it will rejoice the heart of
the poor woman!" exc