laid it aside with a groan of
anguish. Then there was handed to him my poor and commonplace work;
and he opened the pages and began to read. I soon perceived that an
interest was awakened in his mind. Gradually the contraction of his
brow grew less severe, and, in a little while, he had forgotten his
pain.

"I will be more patient," said he, in a calm voice, after he had
read for a long time with a deep interest. "There are many with pain
worse than mine to bear, who have none of the comforts and blessings
so freely scattered along my way through life."

And then he gave directions to have relief sent to one and another
whom he now remembered to be in need.

"It is a good work that prompts to good in others," said the old
man. "What if it be dull and tame--commonplace to the few--it is a
good gift to the world, and thousands will bless the giver. Look
again!"

An angry mother, impatient and fretted by the conduct of a froward
child, had driven her boy from her presence, when, if she had
controlled her own feelings, she might have drawn him to her side
and subdued him by the power of affection. She was unhappy, and her
boy had received an injury.

The mother was alone. Before her was a table covered with books, and
she took up one to read. I knew the volume; it was written by one
whose genius had a deep power of fascination. Soon the mother became
lost in its exciting pages, and remained buried in them for hours.
At length, after turning the last page, she closed the book; and
then came the thought of her wayward boy. But, her feelings toward
him had undergone no change; she was still angry, because of his
disobedience.

Another book lay upon the table; a book of no pretensions, and
written with the simple purpose of doing good. It was commonplace,
because it dealt with things in the common life around us. The
mother took this up, opened to the title-page, turned a few leaves,
and then laid it down again; sat thoughtful for some moments, and
then sighed. Again she lifted the book, opened it, and commenced
reading. In a little while she was all attention, and ere long I saw
a tear stealing forth upon her cheeks. Suddenly she closed the book,
evincing strong emotion as she did so, and, rising up, went from the
room. Ascending to a chamber above, she entered, and there found the
boy at play. He looked towards her, and, remembering her anger, a
shadow flitted across his face. But his mother smiled and looked
kindl