g so busily, and
every instant turning over the leaves of a large book? It is George.
Emma has gone with her papa and mamma to the Colosseum; but George
was obliged to remain a prisoner at home, having been much
inconvenienced by a severe cold. He is now working diligently to
create a surprise for his sister on her return; and anxiety to
please her gives such impetus to his exertions, that he accomplishes
more than he even ventured to anticipate.

Grandy perseveres in her knitting: she silently commends her darling
for his thoughtful affection, and occasionally pauses to cast a
glance of deep earnest love, not unmixed with a degree of pride, on
the beaming countenance of her favorite grandchild.

George completes his task, and causes his working apparatus to
vanish before ten o'clock; then, twining his arms around the beloved
grandmother's neck, he quietly whispers all the secret in her ear,
and awaits her approval.

She suggests that he preserve it until the next evening, and then
astonish the assembly by reading his extensive notes, the result of
the last two hours' labor.

George is delighted, and amuses himself with imagining Emma's
astonishment when he makes his grand display; and, with his mind
vigorously engaged in picturing the pleasures of the surprise, he
retires to rest.

Our young friends, Emma and George, were too sensible of the value
of time to waste it in idleness or trifling pursuits; consequently,
whenever you called at Mr. Wilton's, you might be sure to find them
occupied with some work, profitable either to themselves or their
fellow-creatures; and Mrs. Wilton in her daily instructions had so
combined practice with theory, that her pupils almost unconsciously
imitated her in the paths of industry and perseverance, no longer
feeling (as heretofore) the sad effects of procrastination; but
"whatsoever their hands found to do, they did it with their might."

Continually engaged, with no cares to harass, no troubles to
distress them, their hours and days flew on the wings of
hope,--laden only with fond recollections of the past, glowing with
the bright realities of the present, and wafting the perfume of a
glorious future crowned with the everlasting garlands of love, joy,
and peace.

There was not much time lost in arranging their books and papers on
the evening of this meeting; but they were obliged to commence
without waiting Mr. Barraud's arrival, for the clock had struck
seven, and their b