admonish every boy who reads it, to be kind to his
sisters, and especially to avoid blows on the head, as it is probable
the blow given this little girl by her brother was the cause of her
death. What a shame for a brother to strike his sister!

"One morning in my early life, I remember to have been playing with my
younger sister, not then three years old. It was one of those bright
mornings in spring, that bring joy and life to the heart, and diffuse
gladness and animation through all the tribes of living creatures. Our
feelings were in perfect harmony with the universal gladness of nature.
Even now I seem to hear the merry laugh of my little sister, as she
followed me through the winding alleys of the garden, her cheek suffused
with the glow of health and animation, and her waving hair floating in
the wind.

"She was an only sister, the sole companion of all my childish sports.
We were constantly together; and my young heart went out to hers, with
all the affection, all the fondness, of which childhood is capable.
Nothing afforded me enjoyment in which she did not participate; no
amusement was sought which we could not share together.

"That morning we had prolonged our play till near the hour of breakfast,
with undiminished ardor, when at some slight provocation, my impetuous
nature broke forth, and in my anger, I _struck_ my little sister a blow
with my hand. She turned to me with an appealing look, and the large
tears came into her eyes. Her heart was too full to allow her to speak,
and shame made me silent. At that moment the breakfast bell summoned us
away, and we returned to the house without exchanging a word. The
excitement of play was over, and as she sat beside my mother at
breakfast, I perceived by occasional stolen glances at her that she was
pale and sad. A tear seemed ready to start in her eye, which her little
self-possession could scarcely repress. It was only when my mother
inquired if she was ill, that she endeavored to eat. I was ashamed and
grieved, and inwardly resolved to embrace the first opportunity when we
were alone, to throw my arms round her neck and entreat her forgiveness.

"When breakfast was ended, my mother retired with her into her own room,
directing me in the meantime to sit down to my lesson. I seated myself
by the window, and ran over my lesson, but did not learn it. My thoughts
were perpetually recurring to the scene in the garden and at table. It
was long before my mother ret