Hosanna: Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the lord.

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.

If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them.

Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.

Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me.

“HERE is another chance to fit my story to two of your verses,” said Grandma, and all the young Burtons looked glad.

“It was the summer I was twelve,” said Grandma, “and I spent it at Grandfather Holland’s. He was a minister, you know. We used to have very pleasant Sunday evenings, talking over the sermon, and reciting the catechism; there wasn’t any Sunday-school in those days; not in our part of the country.

“One night we had the story of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. Cousin Mercy said she didn’t see how he could do it; to think of his washing Judas’ feet, too! She thought it was wonderful!

“I said it was wonderful, but I could see how he could do it, and in a sense like to do it; that it showed how truly noble he was, and that I should like a chance to treat an enemy kindly, because I thought it would be a splendid thing to do. But I added, rather mournfully, that I did not suppose I should ever have an enemy. Grandfather did not make much reply; he only smiled on me, a curious sort of smile, and repeated this third verse of yours: ‘If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them.’

“Then what did cousin Stephen do, but repeat, with his eyes fixed on me, this next verse: ‘Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.’

“I felt my cheeks grow red. I wished I could have a chance to show Steenie how truly noble I was; for I saw he didn’t believe it.

“The very next week something happened which made me think of those two verses again.

“I went to the little village school, while I was at grandfather’s; and Priscilla Howe went too. Priscilla was a bound girl whom my grandfather was bringing up.”

“Bound!” exclaimed little Sarah, in startled tone; Grandma had to stop and explain to her what that meant. Then she continued her story.

“I didn’t like Priscilla very well; I hardly knew why; she was a still, cold, little thing, a trifle sullen, perhaps; at least I thought so, and I didn’t have much to do with her. On Wednesday afternoons we had an exercise in school which I always liked.

“The afternoon before, the teacher would read to us a certain article, generally a description of something; a great meeting, maybe, or a fire, or a storm; we were to take what notes we pleased, while the reading was going on. Then the next day we were to bring in our written account of that same thing; using as few words, and as short ones, as we could, to get in all the facts; and the scholar who brought in the best paper, with the fewest mistakes in spelling, and punctuation, wore home the medal for composition. Now I had a good memory, and it seemed to come natural to me to write out things; so I liked this exercise. But poor Priscilla hated it; she could not remember half a dozen things in the article; and couldn’t express them. Tuesday evening grandfather let me sit in his study while I wrote out my exercise. The story was a very nice one, and I felt sure of getting the medal.

“The next morning, when I went to get ready for school, my exercise was nowhere to be found; I made a great noise about it, and every one in the house helped me look; but the exercise was gone. I tried to get time to write another, but I couldn’t, and I missed the medal of course; and cried bitterly. The next day I found the exercise; where, do you think?”

“Where?” asked all the Burtons at once, in tones of eager interest and sympathy.

“Down in the bottom of Priscilla’s mending basket, all torn into little tiny bits, less than half an inch square!”

You should have heard the murmur of indignation which ran through the audience then!

“I can’t tell you how I felt,” said Grandma. “I went down to the sitting-room where the family were gathered, but I was too angry to trust my voice to tell the story. They were all busy, and I crept into a corner with my dark little face, and kept still. My cousin Mercy was at the piano. I ought to tell you about that piano, children,” said Grandma, breaking from her story. “It was the only one in that part of the world; pianos were scarcer in those days than they are now; and Mercy’s was a great curiosity; it had been sent to her by a rich uncle, who went away off to foreign parts and made a fortune.

“It would look very queer and old-fashioned to you, but it was a great wonder and delight to me.

“Mercy called me to come and sing a hymn, but dear me! I couldn’t have sung if they had promised me a piano of my own for doing it. Just then, my aunt Martha, who was grandfather’s housekeeper, said, as she looked from the window, ‘There comes Priscilla with three lighted candles in her hands; how often I have told that child not to carry three candles at once! Run, Ruthie dear, and open the door for her; she will burn herself, or set the house on fire.’

“But ‘Ruthie’ did not run. I sat as still as a stone. ‘Ruth!’ said my grandfather, astonished, while my cousin Stephen laid aside his book, and went toward the door: ‘I can’t open doors for her!’ I burst forth; ‘not if she burns herself up! She tore my exercise into little bits, and I hate her!’

“Children, don’t you feel ashamed of your Grandma? Was ever such a wicked and at the same time silly little burst of rage? It ended with a perfect flood of tears. Grandfather was a wise man, and felt that this was no time for explanations, but as I hurried from the room, I heard cousin Stephen’s mocking voice saying: ‘Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.’

“It dried my tears in a minute, that verse did. All the Sunday evening talk, and my boastful words, came back to me, and I just hated myself, as I sat in my own little room in the dark, and went over the whole thing. How angry I had been with Priscilla; and yet, only three days before, I had wanted an enemy, that I might show everybody how noble I was! After awhile I cried again; but I don’t think there was any anger in those tears. I did feel so ashamed, and so disappointed in myself. To think that the Lord Jesus could wash the feet of Judas, and I could not open a door for a little girl who had torn my paper! I did want to be a good girl, and follow my Saviour’s example; and it seemed so dreadful to have failed!

“It was a very meek and miserable little girl who stole around to grandfather’s side that evening, in answer to his gentle call. In a low voice, and with a few tears dropping quietly, I told him the whole sad story; and I can seem to hear his voice yet, as he said, sorrowfully, after a few minutes: ‘Yes poor little girl; you are learning how much easier it is to resolve, than to do. ”If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them,“ the Saviour said.’

“Mercy was at the piano again, touching the keys softly; she began to sing in a low voice:

Arise, my soul, arise;
Shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding sacrifice
In my behalf appears;
Before the throne my surety stands,
My name is graven on his hands—

“‘Yes,’ said my grandfather, and he placed his dear old hand on my head, ‘little Ruth must try again; He knows all about it, and will forgive her; it was because He knew she couldn’t be gentle, and forgiving, and loving, all alone, that He came down here, and lived, and died.’

“I’ve never forgotten it, children; but I can tell you one thing; it was a long time before I did any more boasting. It was a long time before cousin Stephen could see me, without beginning, ‘Let him that thinketh,’ and laughing a little.”

There was silence in the audience for a few minutes after Grandma’s voice ceased; then Ralph made his speech: “Well, I think Priscilla was a bad, wicked girl; and ought to have been punished.”

Pansy.