Every morning, at the breakfast-table, each one repeated a text of Scripture. They selected their texts alphabetically, each text beginning with the same letter. They began with A, and went on daily with each letter until they got through the alphabet. Rupert did not like this. He could not see the use of it, he said. But the truth was, he did not want the trouble of learning the text.

Mr. Penrose knew that Rupert was to be with them but a short time, and he was anxious to teach him something good while he had the opportunity. He felt sorry for the poor boy, who had learned so little of God’s word, and who had never been taught to make any difference between the sabbath and other days. Rupert often gave Mr. and Mrs. Penrose trouble; but they bore it patiently, in hope of doing him some good.

One Sunday the snow lay deep upon the ground, but there was a good path down the hill. Alfred set off for church with his papa, brothers, and Rupert. It was too cold for little Flora to go that day. When they got about half way to church Rupert found that he had left his pocket-handkerchief. Like most careless boys, Rupert was always losing his pocket-handkerchief. Instead of putting it back in his pocket, after using it, he would lay it by him in the chair on which he sat, and leave it there when he got up. Rupert’s pocket-handkerchief was always to be picked up.

“So, as I have said, when he was half way to church Rupert had to go back for his pocket-handkerchief. The family walked slowly toward the church, thinking that he would overtake them: but he did not; and Mr. Penrose waited for him upon the step. As he stood there, however, he saw Rupert riding in a sleigh, through a street which crossed the one on which the church stood, with John Strong, a boy with whom he had formed a great intimacy, very much against the wishes of his uncle and aunt.

The sermon had commenced when Master Rupert walked into church, and took his seat in his uncle’s pew, with rather a sheepish air. As usual, after he got there he gaped about the church, put his head down as if composing himself to sleep; then jerked it up suddenly, turned round, fidgeted on his seat, and made everybody near him uncomfortable.

When the hymn was sung he turned his back to the minister, and looked up at the choir; a practice, by the by, which shows as much irreverence as bad breeding. When we sing we should feel as much devotion as when we pray. How can we do this when we stand gazing at the choir, instead of feeling the solemn words that we are repeating?

As soon as the benediction was over, Rupert caught his cap, and, leaning over to Alfred, said,

“By jingo! what a noble pair of horses John Strong drives! I have had such a capital ride!”

Alfred’s father took hold of his hand, and did not let it go until he got to the house; and Henry Penrose walked beside Rupert; so that he had no one to listen to his praises of John Strong’s driving, and John Strong’s horses, of which his mind was full.

Between the Sunday-school, church in the afternoon, and reading aloud to Alfred and Flora, from some interesting and profitable book, Rupert had no time for any conversation with Alfred; and nothing had been said to him about his conduct in the morning. He seemed, however, even more restless and tired of Sunday than usual. Mrs. Penrose searched the house for some book to interest him, but could find none that he would read.