though seemingly scarce able to support the weight of her own person. Harry involuntarily glanced around the shop for a chair, and as he did so, his eye rested on a bright-faced little girl, close beside his sister, who was choosing and rejecting a great many pretty toys, and now and then casting a glance at the well-filled purse in her hand, as if to ascertain after each purchase the state of her finances.

'Beautiful!' she exclaimed, her eye glistening with pleasure at the sight of the purple cushioned rocking-chair of which Harry had told his sister.

'Is that all?' inquired a sad, low voice, and again Harry's eye turned to the poor woman who was purchasing the lozenges.

'Yes, ma'am, to be sure,' replied the pert shopkeeper, 'and a pretty large all too—what could you expect for a penny?'

The poor woman made no reply, but the hurried glance she gave her infant with its accompanying sigh, seemed to say, 'God help my poor baby then!'

Harry involuntarily thrust his hand into his pocket, but he quickly withdrew it, and glanced at the little girl who was purchasing the rocking-chair.

'This chair has cost so much,' she said, addressing the shopkeeper, 'that I have only a shilling left.'

'Oh, then,' whispered Effie, emboldened by her brother's looks of anxiety, 'give it to the poor woman with the sick baby.'

The little girl stared at her somewhat rudely, then turning to the woman, exclaimed, 'What! that one, with the horrid looking bonnet!' and, shaking her head, laughingly replied, 'Thank you, Miss, I have a better use for it.'

Effie was really distressed. The poor woman looked so pale and sad, and yet so meek and uncomplaining withal, that both brother and sister found themselves strangely interested.

'O how I wish we could do something for her,' whispered Harry. 'Will you please exchange my nuts for cough lozenges?' inquired Effie in a faltering voice, of the shopkeeper.

'Rather too busy, Miss.'

'But it will oblige me very much.'

'Happy to oblige you on any other day, Miss, but we really have no time for exchanges now.' By this time the poor woman had gained the door, and Effie, looking round, observed that her brother too was missing.

'He followed the woman with the baby,' said the little girl who had purchased the rocking-chair; then pursing up her mouth with an expression as near contempt as such a pretty mouth could wear, she inquired, 'Is she your aunt?'

The angry blood rushed in a flood to Effie's face, but she quickly subdued it, and with ready thought replied, 'No, my sister.'

It was now the turn of the stranger girl to blush, and at the same time she cast upon her new companion a slight glance of surprise. She then turned over with her fingers her new toys, glanced at the rocking-chair, and seemingly dissatisfied with all, again turned to Effie.

'Please give her this,' she said, putting the remaining shilling in her hand. 'I know what you mean, my mother taught me that, but—she is dead now.'

'If Harry finds where the poor woman lives,' returned Effie, 'we will go there together.' The little girl seemed to waver for a moment, then said hastily, 'No, I must go home—give the money to her,' and hurried away as fast as the crowd would permit. In a few moments Harry returned. He had found out where the poor woman lived, but it was a great distance, and he was too considerate to leave his sister alone. Harry was not one of those philanthropists who, in doing a great amount of good, become blind to trifles; for his father had taught him, that duties never interfere with each other, and he knew that he owed Effie every care and attention. I have often observed that those children, who are the most kind and considerate to brothers and sisters, always shew more justice and generosity to others, than those who think such attentions of but little importance.

Harry found out but little more of the woman, than that she was poor, and sick, and friendless. Her baby too, her only comfort, was wasting away before her eyes, whether of disease or for lack of food, she did not tell, and there was none to help her.

'We will speak to father about her,' said Harry, as they proceeded homeward, 'perhaps he can do something for them,—it is a sweet little baby, Effie, with a skin clear and white, and eyes—oh, you never saw such eyes! they look so soft and loving, that you would think the poor thing knew every word you said, and how I pitied it. I could hardly help crying, Effie.'

'I am glad you followed the poor woman.'

'So am I. But Effie, you don't know how vexed I was with that selfish little miss, that bought the rocking-chair.'

'Harry!'

'Now, don't go to taking her part, Effie, it will do no good, I can tell you; she is the most selfish and unfeeling little girl that I ever saw. Because the woman wore an old bonnet, she couldn't help her—only think of that! how mean!'

'She—O Harry! now I know what mother meant when she talked to me so much about having charity for people, and told me that we could not always judge the heart by the actions. I thought as badly of her as you at first, but I'm sure now she is not unfeeling.'

'Well, if she has any feeling, I should like to see her shew it, that's all. I tell you, Effie, if anybody ever made a god of self, it is that little girl we saw to-night. She thought her gratification of more consequence than that poor baby's life.'

'No, Harry, she is one of the thoughtless ones mother tells us so much about. If you had seen her when she gave me this money,' putting the silver piece into her brother's hand, 'you would never call her unfeeling.'

'Did you tease her for it?'

'No, I didn't ask her again, for I did feel a little vexed—yes, a good deal so, at first, but, Harry, I don't feel vexed now, I am sorry for her. There was a tear in her eye, I am pretty sure, though she was ashamed to have me see it, and her lips quivered, and she looked—oh, so sad, when she told me her mother was dead; I wish you could have seen her, Harry.'

'I would rather not see her again, for I can't bear proud people—' Effie was about interrupting her brother in defence of the little stranger girl, but at that moment a new object attracted their attention. It was a fine sleigh drawn by a pair of beautiful gray horses, that, with proudly arched neck and flowing mane, stepped daintily, as if perfectly aware of the fact that they were gentlemen's horses, and carried as fashionable a load as New York afforded. A little girl leaned quite over the side of the sleigh, and smiled and nodded to Effie, then waving her handkerchief, to attract still more attention, dropped something upon the ground. It was the child they had seen at the toy-shop. Harry flew to pick up the offering, and gave it to his sister.

'Now, what do you think of her?' inquired Effie, as her eye lighted on the self-same purse she had seen but a little while before; 'I knew she must be kind-hearted—did you ever see anything so generous? Here is ever so much money, and all for the poor woman and her sick baby—why don't you speak, Harry?'

'Because—I—'

'You don't think she is selfish now, I hope?'

'I don't think anything about it, Effie, because I don't know. If she gave her own money she is generous, but if she begged it of somebody else to give—'

'If she begged it of somebody else, it was generous in her to give it to this poor woman, instead of putting it to some other use.'

'Well, Effie, the money will certainly do the poor woman a great deal of