nd the two rooms, but Charles began
to whip his horse and cry, "Get up, old boy, you are getting lazy. You
shall be a race-horse. Now go faster, faster; go round the room like
lightning."

So round he went, fast and faster, shaking his head, and taking great
jumps, and kicking his legs up behind, with Charley holding on, laughing
and screaming with delight, till, alas! sad to tell, his elbow brushed
against a beautiful and costly vase, which stood upon a little table,
knocked it off, and broke it into a hundred pieces.

Henry stopped short, and let Charles slide down from his back. He
looked at the broken vase, and then at his brother, and Charles looked
at Henry, and then at the pieces on the floor.

"It is all broken," said he. "It can't be mended at all; can it,
brother?"

"No, it is past mending," said Henry; "and the first thing we must do
will be to tell Mother."

"Oh, no!" said the little boy; "I am afraid to tell her."

"We must never be afraid to tell the truth, dear Charley. I will set you
a good example. You shall never learn to tell a lie from me." Henry had
always remembered what his Mother had said to him, the very first time
he ever saw his little brother; and very often, when he was tempted to
be naughty, or get in a passion, the words, "Your brother will do just
as you do," would seem to come from his heart, and he would conquer his
passion.

In a few moments the boys heard the wheels of the carriage. Henry went
to the hall door, and opened it. He held Charles by the hand. He had to
hold him very tight, for Charles tried to get away. His face was pale.
He waited until his Mother got out of the carriage and came up the
steps, and, taking hold of her hand and looking up in her face, he said,
in a firm voice, "Mother, I have broken your vase."

"And I, too," said the little boy; "and it is broken all to pieces."

Henry was glad to hear his little brother say this; and oh! how happy it
made him feel, to think that the child had learned to speak the truth
from him.

Their Mother kissed them both and said, "My darling boys, I am rejoiced
that you are not afraid to speak the truth. I would rather lose twenty
vases than have you tell a lie. But you knew it was wrong to play in the
parlours; did you not?"

"Yes, dear Mother, it was wrong, and I knew it was," replied Henry. "I
will submit to any punishment you think right. I ought to have
remembered that you advised us not to go there."

"If you t