and then roll down his cheeks, on which he stopped to ask
him why he wept?

"'Because,' said the musician, 'I am very hungry. I have no one in the
world that will give my dog or me a bit of of anything to eat. I wish
I could but work, and get for both of us a morsel of something; but I
have lost my strength and sight. Alas! I labored hard till I was old,
and now I want bread.'

"The generous Gratian, hearing this, wept too. He did not say a word,
but ran to fetch the cake which he had designed to eat himself. He
brought it out with joy, and, as he ran along, began: 'Here, good old
man, here is some cake for you.'

"'Where?' replied the poor musician, feeling with his hands; 'where is
it? For I am blind, and cannot see you.'

"Gratian put the cake into his hand, when, laying down his fiddle on
the ground, he wiped his eyes, and then began to eat. At every piece
he put into his mouth, he gave his faithful little dog a bit, who came
and ate out of his hand; and Gratian, standing by him, smiled with
pleasure at the thought of having fed the poor old man when he was
hungry."

_Percival_. Oh, the good, good Gratian! Let me have your knife,
father.

_Mr. G._ Here, Percival; but why my knife?

_Percival_. I will tell you. I have only nibbled here a little of my
cake, so pleased I was in listening to you! So I will cut it smooth.
There, see how well I have ordered it! These scraps, together with the
currants, will be more than I shall want for breakfast; and the first
poor man that I meet going home shall have the rest, even though he
should not play upon the violin.

AMENDMENT

Charles Grant lived in a good house, and wore fine clothes, and had a
great many pretty toys to play with; yet Charles was seldom happy or
pleased; for he was never good. He did not mind what his mother said
to him, and would not learn to read, though he was now seven years
old.

He called the servants names, pinched and beat his little sister
Clara, and took away her playthings, and was not kind and good to her,
as a brother should be. "Oh, what a sad boy Charles is!" was his
mother's daily bitter exclamation.

His father was a proud, bad man, who let Charles have his own way,
because he was his only son, and he thought him handsome. But how
could anyone be handsome that was so naughty? I am sure that when he
was froward, and put out his lip, and frowned, he looked quite ugly.
Mother told him so, and said that no one was pretty