er this, in a steamboat, he met a gentleman with whom he
had much conversation upon various subjects; among others the
institution for the instruction of the poor runaways. He mentioned
among other things this poor girl's gift, and her grief at parting
with her mother's gold necklace. "I hated," said he, "to take it.
She will not stay here long, and her pleasures are very few." He
mentioned also the name of the town in New Hampshire where she
lived.

"That is my native place," said the gentleman to whom he was
relating the story. "Will you let me see the necklace?"

"Certainly," said the missionary, and he took it from his pocket.

"What sum of money shall you obtain for this necklace?"

"I have had it weighed," said he, "and I shall get so much money for
it," naming the sum.

"Are you willing to sell it to me for that sum?"

"Certainly; that is all I can obtain for it."

The bargain was concluded. The stranger paid the sum. Then, putting
the necklace into his own pocket, he said, "She shall have it for a
new year's gift."

Now let us, on the first of January, visit the poor sick girl again.
Early in the morning, some one hands her a little parcel--she opens
it, and there is her precious necklace, the gift of her dear mother
in the heavenly land. It is accompanied by a short note in which the
writer begs her not to part with the necklace again while she lives,
but to consider it her own to do as she pleases with it at her
death.

The stranger, who had purchased the necklace, and sent it back to
the poor girl, knew the true value of riches, and understood and
enjoyed the luxury of doing good, of making the poor and the
sorrowful rejoice. He was the same man who planned the dinner."

After tea, Mrs. Chilton took out her manuscript book.

"The story I shall read," said she, "is a very painful one, but
sadly true. If it makes you very unhappy, you must try to let it
save you from committing the fault which was so severely punished.
All the essential facts are true, as I shall read them to you.

"IT IS ONLY A TRIFLE."

"Be sure, my son," said Mr. Pratt, as he left his counting room, in
Philadelphia, "be sure that you send that money to Mr. Reid to-day;
direct it carefully, and see that all is done in proper form and
order."

"Yes, sir," replied George, "I will."

George fully intended to obey implicitly. He was, in the main,
desirous to do right; but he had one great fault. When he had a
small du