e very
careless, and I should not like my nice new desk to be stained with
ink, or, perhaps, scratched with the point of a pin."

"But mamma says I am growing more careful," said her sister; "and I do
not think I am so heedless about other people's things, though I often
spoil my own."

"Remember my wax doll," said Louisa, "which you left in the garden
through that heavy shower of rain, so that I could never play with it
again."

"O, that was such a very long time ago!" said Emma, looking a little
vexed.

"Perhaps it will not be a writing-desk nor a work-box that aunt
Harding will give us," said Louisa; "there are many other things which
we should like. I wish she would ask us to choose."

"So do I," added Emma; "but there is nothing that I should like better
than a work-box."

Louisa thought of many other things which she should be glad to have;
for she was apt to indulge in a foolish habit of wishing for what she
was not likely to possess. It is a bad thing to give way to this
failing; for by doing so we may often make ourselves unhappy, without
any good or real cause. People who do so should think of the words of
St. Paul: "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be
content." Philip. iv, 11. And children, who have kind parents or
friends to provide for all their wants, should learn that it is very
sinful to let the thoughts be often dwelling upon things that they
cannot have, and do not really need. Pray for a grateful heart, that
you may rejoice in the blessings that surround you, and be thankful to
your heavenly Father, who gives you all things richly to enjoy.

CHAPTER II.

THE PRESENTS.

Mrs. Harding, the aunt of these little girls, had been paying a
farewell visit to their mamma, before going with Mr. Harding to India,
where it was likely that they would remain for some years. She had
kindly given many little presents to her nieces during her stay with
them; but they were such as Louisa and Emma would cease to value when
they became old enough to "put away childish things;" and being a
person of piety and judgment, she wished her last gift to be one which
might be worthy of their regard in youth and in age, and through all
the changes of life. It did not take any long time to determine what
this parting gift should be.

The evening before she went away, she called Louisa and Emma into the
room. They both looked round upon the table and chests of drawers, but
no sign of a pre