"Come hither, Emily," said Mrs. Osman to her daughter, a little girl about six years old, who had just returned from school; "Come hither, for I have something to tell you."

"What is it, mamma? Have you had a letter from papa? and is he coming home soon?"

"No, that is not it, though I hope your papa will now very soon be home again; but it is that your friend, Mrs. Cassy, has just been here, to invite you to spend the day with her on Christmas day, to meet your friend Julia."

"Oh! delightful, how very kind Mrs. Cassy is!" said the little girl with great animation.

"She is, indeed! And though the object of this invitation is to give Julia a treat before she leaves the country, which you know she will now soon do, as her mamma has sent for her, to return home with her uncle who is to set off in a few days: yet it will, I am sure, be quite as great a pleasure to yourself; for though Mrs. Cassy has no children of her own, you know how much pains she always takes to make her house pleasant to her little visiters." "Oh, yes! I remember the last time we were there, she had a large baby for us, that she had dressed herself. And it had a beautiful frock and cap, and a pair of socks, just like those that my little sister Emma wears; and we played at its being sick; and then Mrs. Cassy made a scramble of raisins and sugarplums, and a great many other good things, and we had such fun in picking them up! Oh! it was delightful. I hope you will let me go, mamma!"

"Yes! upon one condition."

"Oh! I know what that condition will be. It will be about my tickets for good conduct."

"Yes, you are quite right. You know, Emily, your great fault is idling. You are apt to spend your time idling when you ought to be attending to your lessons. But if you get——"

"A ticket every day for good conduct," interrupted the little girl.

"Yes! I am sure you will not receive a ticket for good conduct unless your lessons have been properly attended to, and your behaviour in school has been such as it ought to be; and therefore your going to Mrs. Cassy's must depend upon your tickets for good conduct. It only wants two days to Christmas day, and if you can bring me a ticket each day for good conduct you shall go: but if not, you must be content to stay at home. It is a very short time for you to keep watch over yourself, so that if you fail, I am sure even your friend Mrs. Cassy herself will not think that you deserve to partake of her kindness."

"Oh! if it only depends upon my getting two tickets for good conduct, I am sure I shall go," returned the little Emily, clapping her hands with pleasure. "Let me see! This is Monday evening; there is only Tuesday and Wednesday; and on Wednesday we shall have school only half the day; so that I shall have to watch myself only a very short time."

"True, Emily, it will only be a very short time, and therefore the terms on which your going depends are not, you see, very severe; but yet that time, short as it is, may be of great service to you, as every time you try, you do something toward forming a habit of attention; and besides, if you succeed, you will both please me, and prove to your friend Mrs. Cassy that you know how to value her kindness."

"I will go directly and learn my lessons for to-morrow," said Emily, and taking up her bag of books she hastened into a little back parlour, in which she was in the habit of studying her lessons. For some time she kept her attention very steadily fixed on her work; but just as she had taken her geography and opened her map to trace the boundaries of North America, a lady who frequently visited her mother, and who sung very well, began at that moment in an adjoining room to sing a song of which Emily was very fond. The little girl had a very good ear for music, and was so exceedingly fond of it, that it was with great difficulty that she could keep her attention fixed upon what she was doing. Over and over again she was on the point of leaving her lessons, and going into the parlour where the musician was; but she recollected how soon it would be bed-time, and how little time there was whilst the mornings were so very short, to learn any lessons that had been neglected the evening before, and determined to persevere; and clasping her little hands, and laying them on the book before her, as if to hold fast her resolution, she repeated, North America is bounded on the north by the Arctic ocean, on the west and south by the Pacific ocean, and on the east by the Atlantic ocean. It is true that as she repeated this, and found answers to the rest of the questions which were contained in her lesson, her feet beat time against the chair, and her head moved in unison, whilst she sometimes found herself trying to make the words of her lesson accord with the measure of the music, as she spun out the words eighty-five degrees of north la-ti-tude, yet still she contrived to keep her mind fixed upon what she was doing till she had impressed it on her memory, so as to be sure of being able to call it forward, when required, the following day. "Now I know all my lessons perfectly," said she, as she replaced her books in her bag: "I am sure of not losing my ticket to-morrow on account of my lessons." So saying, she hastened into the other parlour, but the music was over, the lady was gone, and the room was empty. Emily, however, was seldom at a loss for means of amusement, and she skipped about the room, singing "I'll be a butterfly," as if she were indeed that light and airy creature of pleasure. Satisfied with herself for the resolution that she had exercised, the rest of the evening was spent in more than even her usual cheerfulness, and she laid her head down upon the pillow with repeated resolutions of attention the following day. When the little girl opened her eyes the next morning, it looked so gloomy and dark that she very willingly persuaded herself it was too soon to rise, and had just turned over to compose herself for another nap when the clock struck eight. In an instant she was out of bed. She had only a single hour in which to dress herself, to eat her breakfast, and go to school; she had not, therefore, a single moment to lose. Yet a strong temptation assailed her, for on a chair by her bed-side lay a small paper parcel, directed to her, which on opening she found to contain a cap, that her friend Julia had made for her baby, and which had been sent to her after she was in bed the night before, and placed by the servant near her bed-side, that she might see it as soon as she rose in the morning. "Oh! what a beautiful little cap," exclaimed Emily. "How sweet my baby will look in it. I must try it on directly. But no," added she, recollecting herself, "I must not stay to try it on now or I shall be too late for school, and then away goes my ticket for good conduct at once." And with an effort of self denial that would have done credit to a much older mind, Emily put the tempting cap into a drawer and hastened to finish her dressing. Her breakfast was soon swallowed, and she was in the school-room before the school bell rang. "I think now I am safe for to-day," said she, "only I hope Julia will not be in one of her funny humours and try to make me laugh." To the credit of our little heroine, however, though Julia was in a funny humour and did frequently try to make her laugh, and though Emily's gay and even volatile temper was ever ready to receive a lively impression, yet still she succeeded in keeping herself so far within bounds as to escape reproof, and she returned home in the evening with the wished-for ticket. "Here it is, mamma! here it is!" cried she, running to her mother, and holding out the testimony of her good behaviour. Her mother took the ticket, and congratulated her upon having got over half the time successfully. "More than half, mamma," returned Emma, "for to-morrow will be only half a day, and I have very few lessons to learn to-night."

"I am not sure that you are any more safe on that account, Emma," replied her mother, "for you know I have often remarked to you, that you generally prepare your lessons the worst when you consider them the easiest; as then you are apt, from the idea that they can be learnt in so very short a time, to put them off until you have no time for them at all, instead of learning them first and amusing yourself afterward." "But I will not do so to-night," said the little girl, and away she went directly to study them. And fortunate it was for her that she did so, for she had scarcely finished the last thing that she had to learn before her friend Julia came to play with her. She could now, however, play with safety, and the rest of the evening was passed in amusement. The new cap was tried on and found to fit beautifully, and the baby was dressed and undressed, put to bed and taken up again; declared to be very sick and obliged to take medicine; taken out to visit; sent to bed for being naughty; and, in short, passed through all the vicissitudes of a moderate life-time before the friends parted for the night.

"It is eight o'clock," cried Emily, capering about the room, half dancing and half jumping as she spoke; "I am safe for to-day, and I have only till twelve o'clock to-morrow, and then I shall get my ticket, and then I shall be safe; and then I shall go to Mrs. Cassy's."

"And then," rejoined her mother, "I hope you will have learned how much better it is to work first and play after, than to play first and run the risk of the work being neglected altogether."

"Oh! yes, mamma! I intend to remember that in future," said the little girl, and away she went to bed, singing as she went, to a tune of her own making,

"Emily!" said her mother, rousing her little girl from a sound sleep, as she spoke; "Emily! Do you know it is nearly eight o'clock?"

"Oh! it is time enough, mamma," said Emily, starting up as she spoke; "it struck eight o'clock before I was out of bed yesterday morning; and yet I was in the school-room some minutes before the bell rang."

"But if you trifle in that way, it will be nine o'clock before you are out of this room," continued her mother; as Emily, taking hold of her little night-gown, instead of a frock, began to practice her dancing steps. "You see, my dear, you have yet only got your stockings and shoes on; so, at this rate, it will certainly take you more than an hour to finish your dressing."

"Oh! indeed you are mistaken, mamma, you will see how soon I shall be out of the room," and roused to recollection by this remonstrance, the rest of her dressing was very quickly finished. Her breakfast too was despatched with equal rapidity. "Now I am ready," said she, starting from her chair, and putting on her little brown beaver hat as she spoke; "and now for my coat; but stop," she continued, throwing her coat carelessly over her arm; "I have not my bag: Where is it, I wonder? Oh! I remember! I left it in the piazza when I went to look what sort of a morning it was;" and off she went, dragging her coat, which still hung over her arm, after her; and on the piazza she found her bag, mittens, one of her books, and slate, all lying as she had thrown them out of her hand, to run after some trifle that had at the moment attracted her attention; but as she took up her bag with the intention of putting her book and slate into it, her favourite kitten, which had followed her to the piazza, running after her coat as it dragged after her along the floor, now caught at the bag, and tugged and scratched at it, as if it had been intended entirely for its amusement. This was too congenial with Emily's own frolicsome disposition to be resisted, and there she stood, at one moment drawing the bag away, and the next throwing it back again to the sportive little animal. And we must be permitted here to pause and describe our little friend, as she looked while thus engaged. It was one of those fine mild mornings, which of late years we have so often witnessed in the very depth of winter, and the sun, which had just risen, sent forth his beams to gild the landscape behind her, defining her figure more clearly by the contrast. To the eye of fancy and affection, that rising sun might have been thought to represent her whose orb like his own was just rising; and though a few mists yet obscured the bright rays of mind which had already begun to beam, yet no one could look at the face, which, though not formed according to any of the acknowledged rules of beauty, was bright with innocence, animation, and happiness, without feeling assured, that as it gained its meridian heights, it would shine forth with pure, unclouded lustre, and prepare the way for a clear and glorious evening. Though Emily, as she thus stood, presented a picture that a painter might study, it was but of short duration, for whilst she yet played with her favourite, the clock struck nine, and at once recalled the little girl to a recollection of her folly. "Oh! what shall I do?" she exclaimed. "It is nine o'clock, and I am not ready. Get away, kitty! do not come near me again," she continued, as the kitten, which had received no warning from the stroke of the clock, still tried to catch at the strings of the bag whilst she was putting in its usual contents; "get away! for if you had not come near me, I should not have staid so long. I should not have been tempted with any thing else. Oh! how hard my coat is to get on this morning. I cannot tell what is the matter with this hook and eye! it will not fasten. Yes! now it is fastened and I must run." But though poor Emily did run, and put herself into a most violent heat; and though she went into the school-room puffing and blowing, the words, as she entered, of "Miss Emily Osman—you are too late," told her at once that all chance of visiting her friend Mrs. Cassy was over.

A few tears chased each other silently down her cheek, as she took her seat at her desk, and for the rest of the day it was little effort to poor Emily to be silent and attentive. Julia tried a thousand ways to excite a smile, but in vain; for the idea that she had not only deprived herself of so much pleasure for the morrow, but had disappointed her mamma and appeared ungrateful to Mrs. Cassy for her kindness, weighed on her mind, and every now and then filled her eyes with tears. "Do not cry, Emily, I beg of you," said Julia, as they returned home together, after the school hours were over, "I am quite sure your mamma will let you go to Mrs. Cassy's, after all. I feel quite certain of it, for you know this is almost the last day we have to be together; and I am sure she could not find in her heart to deprive you of the pleasure for such a trifle."

"No! my mamma never changes her mind after she has promised me any thing," said Emily, "and I am glad she does not, because it always makes me sure that if I am good I shall get the reward I expect."

"Oh! well, but she may change her mind just about such a little trifle as that, after all," returned Julia.

"I am quite sure she will not," was Emily's quiet reply, and the friends parted, as their roads now lay in different directions. As Emily entered the house, she felt almost ashamed of meeting her mamma, and she blushed at the idea of the reluctance which she felt; but she soon found that, for the present at least, she was saved the pain of seeing her, for she was told that a very short time after she went to school, her mother had been sent for to a very particular friend, who was dangerously ill, and that she was not yet returned. Emily always thought the house very forlorn and dull when her mother was not in it, but now that she was out of spirits herself, she felt it more so than ever, and she hung about listless and uneasy, and unable to enter into any of her usual amusements. She tried to sing, but her voice was husky and out of tune. She began to practise her steps, but it was impossible to dance without music, and Emily that day had no music in her soul. She took out her baby, with the intention of amusing herself with it, but it brought to her recollection the pleasure she had expected to enjoy in playing with Mrs. Cassy's baby the next day; and she put it aside, and forgot that she had expected entertainment from it. Even her little kitten, which, from its fondness for play, seemed to be so nearly allied to herself, played with a ball of cotton, or ran after its own tail, round and round the room, in vain; for Emily only recollected that it was it that had tempted her to the neglect of her duty in the morning. "I wonder when my mamma will come home," said she to herself, as the short winter's day began to draw to a close. "I wish she would come that I might see her, and hear her say that she forgives me, and will not punish me any further than by not letting me go to Mrs. Cassy's. I hope she will not look grave at me, for that will be worse than all. I wish she would come that I might know at once what she would say. Oh! perhaps that is she," added the little girl, starting up and running to the window at the sound of the door bell; but it was too dark for her to see who it was, and she was returning to the fireside, when the room door opened and the servant brought in a letter, which he said was for her. "For me!" cried Emily, in great surprise; "who can have written to me? I never received a letter in my life from any body." A lamp, however, was lighted, and the letter opened, which proved to be from Julia, and, after spelling and puzzling over it for a considerable time, Emily at length made out the following epistle:

"My dear Emily,
"I have just heard that your mamma is not at home; and I wanted to come round to you, but my aunt would not let me. But I have sent you the ticket for good conduct, which I got to-day, and you may call it your own. It will not be cheating, you know, because you did behave very well at school, and then we shall meet at Mrs. Cassy's to-morrow, which will be delightful; for you know it is almost the last day that we can be together, before I go away.
"Your affectionate friend,
"Julia."

Julia, who was nearly two years older than Emily, had written this letter with much more ease than her friend could read it. She, at last, however, succeeded in deciphering it; and, after having made herself fully acquainted with its contents, she took the ticket which was enclosed in it, and putting it very carefully by, as deliberately put the letter into the fire. From that moment Emily's face began gradually to brighten, her voice became less husky, and though she did not jump and skip about as she was in the habit of doing, yet she ceased to stretch and yawn, and wish the evening was over; and her countenance, though more thoughtful than usual, was expressive only of composure and satisfaction. The return of her mamma, which she had sometimes wished for and sometimes dreaded, now appeared to have become of less importance to her, so that on finding, by her usual bed-time, that she was not yet come home, she went very contentedly to bed, and was soon wrapped in a sound sleep. Her first object, on waking in the morning, was to ascertain whether her mother was yet returned, but finding that she was not, she prepared to spend some more hours alone. Emily, however, though a very little girl was able not only to read, but to understand what she read; so that she could easily find amusement from the variety of little books with which her mamma had supplied her; and this made the morning pass over very comfortably, till about twelve o'clock, when she began to feel very anxious for her mother's return. It seemed a long time since she had seen her; she did not remember, ever in her life having been so long absent from her before, and she sighed and wondered when she would come. At length she heard some one open the front door, and come along the entry; and her little heart began to beat at the idea of meeting her mother. The door opened, but instead of her mamma, Julia entered, very prettily dressed, and evidently prepared for her visit.

"Why, Emily!" she exclaimed, as she came forward, "not dressed yet! I expected to find you ready to go."

"Go where?" asked the little girl.

"Why, to Mrs. Cassy's to be sure. Where else could I mean?"

"You know I am not going to Mrs. Cassy's."

"Why not? has your mamma found out that the ticket was mine?"

"I have not seen my mamma since yesterday morning. She has never been at home yet."

"Then why are you not going? You have no need to wait for her to give you leave to go, when you know she said you should go if you could bring her a ticket for good conduct, each day; and you can show her one when she comes home."

"Yes! but not one of my own."

"Yes! it is your own, for I have given it to you."

"But it is not gained by my own good behaviour."

"But you deserved to have one, for you never behaved better in school, in your life, than you did yesterday morning. You only lost your ticket for being a very few minutes too late, and therefore, it will not be cheating at all, to tell your mamma that you behaved well." Happily, however, for Emily, there had been so much pains taken to impress upon her mind, from her earliest dawn of thought, a nice distinction between truth and falsehood, that she was not to be deceived by this false reasoning of her friend, whose mind having been less carefully guarded, had adopted the error, so common with young people, that equivocation is not falsehood. Julia imagined that she would be as unwilling to tell an untruth as Emily herself could be, but she did not consider that a habit of equivocation is as obnoxious as falsehood itself, to that nice sense of honour, which can alone preserve the mind pure and untainted. She had not been taught, with sufficient care, to know, that, though she told a part of what was true, she was yet equally guilty of the crime of falsehood, as long as what she said was dictated by a wish to deceive. Emily, though so much younger, had, therefore, arrived at much greater maturity in the art of reasoning, and had imbibed, even at that early age, an ardent love of truth, and a keen contempt for the meanness of deceit; and she replied, in a quiet but steady voice: "Though I did behave well in school, I should still be cheating, if I made my mamma believe that I got a ticket for good behaviour, and that would take away all the pleasure of the visit;" and, as she spoke, she took the ticket from the place in which she had deposited it, with the intention of giving it to its right owner; but, whilst she held it in her hand, the parlour door opened, and Mrs. Osman entered the room. The moment Emily saw her mother, the recollection of her own fault rose to her mind, and checked the pleasure with which she would otherwise have welcomed her return, and the constraint of her manner was immediately observed by her watchful parent. "What is the matter, Emily, my dear?" asked she anxiously. "I see by the ticket in your hand, that you have succeeded in gaining your promised reward, and yet you do not appear to be in your usual spirits." Emily's countenance became still more agitated, whilst the colour of her face and neck, the skin of which readily told, by its varying hue, the different fluctuations of her feelings, proved that a severe conflict was passing within. To allow her mother to remain in the error of supposing the ticket to be her own, was impossible: yet how was she to explain the fact of its being Julia's, without exposing the fault of her friend? for she knew that her mamma's first question would be, "what had she to do with Julia's ticket?"

"What is the matter, my dear?" again asked the anxious mother, "is there any objection, which I am ignorant of, to your going to Mrs. Cassy's to-day?"

"Mamma, I have no right at all to go," replied Emily, almost trembling with agitation as she spoke.

"Why not? You got your ticket yesterday I see."

"No, mamma, I did not! This is not my ticket."

"What ticket is it then? for I have all your others." Emily was silent, and her agitation increased to a degree that was very painful to observe; but Julia, who possessed a mind, which, though some noxious weeds had been permitted to spring up in it, was yet adorned with the rich and beautiful flowers of generosity and affection, saw and understood her distress, and determined to relieve her even at the pain of exposing herself; and therefore said, "I will tell you, ma'am, all about it; for, although it was not very good in me, it was so very good in Emily, that I know you will reward her for it." She then related the circumstance of the ticket very simply, without attempting either to excuse or extenuate her own conduct, though she did full justice to the integrity and honourable behaviour of her friend. Whilst Julia was speaking, Emily watched her mother's countenance with an expression of great anxiety, and the moment she had ceased, she turned to her and said, in a timid and supplicating voice, "Mamma, do not be angry with Julia!"

"As Julia is now to be so short a time among us, Emily, I will take no further notice of her conduct, but will leave it to the animadversions of her own breast," replied Mrs. Osman, gravely.

"But you will let Emily go to Mrs. Cassy's," said Julia eagerly. "You will surely, Mrs. Osman, reward her for behaving so well."

"I hope, Julia, that though Emily is so young a child, she yet knows too well that it is her duty to be honest, to expect any other reward for being so, than that which she has already secured to herself."

"But it is so trifling a fault that she lost her ticket for," remonstrated Julia.

"It was indeed a trifle, and her having so very nearly succeeded this time, gives me hopes that she will be wholly successful the next time."

"O! yes, I am sure, ma'am, if you will let her go to-day she will be more careful the next time."

"I am of a different opinion, Julia," replied Mrs. Osman, smiling; "and believe that this lesson, which I now hope will be of service to Emily as long as she lives, would be lost entirely, were she not to suffer the punishment for her fault that she knows it deserves."

"But ought she not to be rewarded for being good too? and if she is not allowed to go she will have no reward at all."

"Oh! yes, I shall," interrupted Emily, who read, in her mother's countenance, the approbation which she felt of her conscientious conduct, "I shall have reward enough."

"Yes, Emily," replied her mother, "you will have the best of all rewards, a self-approving mind; and I should be sorry to weaken its effects by seeming to think that any further reward is necessary for your having done your duty." But Emily showed that she did not consider any thing more necessary to reward her for the part which she had acted, and she saw her friend go to pay her visit to Mrs. Cassy without a sigh; for though exceedingly sorry not to accompany her, she felt an inward consciousness of having acted properly, that made every thing appear cheerful and pleasant around her. The day passed delightfully, therefore, though no particular pains were taken to amuse her; for her mother was afraid, if she indulged in any extraordinary expressions of approbation, she might lead her little girl to imagine that she had performed some wonderful act of virtue, instead of having merely done her duty. What Emily had done, however, had been done purely because she knew it to be right, and not for the sake of admiration or reward. The approbation of her own conscience was all that she required; and, with such a companion, she felt no difficulty in spending a delightful Christmas day. Her voice, when she sung, had never, to her own ear at least, sounded so well; nor had her feet ever before fallen so lightly on the floor, as they did when she skipped about; and as to her little kitten, though it had brought her into trouble, it was now forgiven, and they ran about the room together, as if trying to show, by their light and sportive movements, how graceful and beautiful a thing is the union of childhood and innocence.

M. H.