"Where are you going so fast, Charlotte?" said she; "stop, I want to show you what a lovely blue ribbon I have just bought at Drake's, only four cents a yard, and half a yard makes a neck ribbon; isn't it sweet? just look;" and she displayed a bright blue ribbon to the admiring gaze of Charlotte.

"It is very pretty," said Charlotte longingly, "and I wish I could afford to buy one like it, but I've got no money."

"What is that in your hand?" asked the other, as she espied the pennies in Charlotte's hand.

"That is mission money," she replied; "I am going to give it to the missionary to buy Bibles for the heathen."

"Buy fiddlesticks!" said the other, with a loud laugh. "Why, you are a little simpleton to send your money the dear knows where, when you might buy a whole yard of this beautiful ribbon and have a penny left!"

Charlotte looked wishfully at the ribbon, and sighed as she answered, "But I earned this money on purpose to give."

"More goose you to work for money to give away; but if you are so very generous, buy half a yard, and then you will have three cents left to give, that is enough I am sure; but do as you like, I must go. They have got some splendid pink, that would become you exceedingly. Good bye;" and so saying she left her.

Charlotte walked thoughtfully on; her love of dress and finery was a ruling passion, and had been aroused at a most unfortunate moment; she had never possessed a piece of new ribbon, and she longed to see how it would look with her white cape. Thus thinking she arrived at Mr. Drake's store, and the first thing she saw temptingly displayed in a glass case upon the counter was the identical ribbon she coveted. There were customers in the store, and Charlotte had to wait her turn; during those few moments various thoughts passed through her mind.

"If I buy the ribbon what will Annie say?" suggested conscience. "Why need you care for Annie?" whispered temptation, "the ribbon will look pretty and becoming; you earned the money, and beside, Annie need not know anything about it; tell her you had not time to change the money, and throw the pennies quickly in the box; there will be more there, and no one will know how much you put in."

Poor Charlotte! she did not know that the best way to avoid sin is to flee from temptation. The shopman was at leisure, and waited to know what she wished. She had not decided what to do; but the ribbon was uppermost in her thoughts, and she asked, "What is the price of that ribbon?" "Four cents," said the shopman as he quickly unrolled it; "here are pink, white, blue and yellow; pink I should think the most becoming to you, Miss. How much shall I cut you? enough to trim a bonnet?"

Charlotte was agitated; the man's volubility confused her, and she stammered forth, "Half a yard, if you please, sir."

It was cut off, rolled up, and in her hand, and she had paid the two cents before she collected her thoughts; and then as she slowly returned home, she unfolded her purchase, and tried in her admiration of its gay color to forget she had done wrong.

Perhaps if Charlotte had read her Bible she would have remembered how Ananias and his wife Sapphira were struck dead for mocking the Lord, by pretending they had given all when they had reserved a part of their goods. Their sin consisted not so much in keeping back a part as in lying unto God; and this sin Charlotte was about to commit by pretending to put in the mission box more than she really did.

Sunday morning dawned bright and lovely. Annie was up and tidily dressed long before the hour for school. She had time to sing a sweet morning hymn, and to feed the tame robins with the crumbs she had carefully swept up, and then with her little Bible sat down to study her lesson again, and assure herself that she had it perfect. As she read the sacred volume, and dwelt upon its precious promises, which her mother had explained to her, she felt doubly sorry for those poor people who were deprived of so great a blessing; and then she thought of her little offering, and wished with all her heart it had been more.

Charlotte, on the contrary, awoke late, after an uneasy slumber, and hurriedly eating her breakfast, for which she had but little appetite, dressed herself, and opening the box where she kept her little treasures, took out the gay pink ribbon, and after a long admiring gaze, pinned it carefully about her neck. As she closed the box cover she saw the three cents lying in one corner, and hastily put them in her pocket with a feeling of self-abasement that made her cheeks glow with shame. She ran quickly down stairs, lest her mother should see her and question her about the ribbon, for although Mrs. Murray would not have disapproved of her daughter's purchase, Charlotte dreaded her mother's ridicule for so soon abandoning her new-fangled notions, as she called them.

She had promised to call for Annie, and she walked quietly along, hoping her friend would not notice the ribbon nor ask to see the money. As she slowly approached Mrs. Grey's cottage, she saw Annie's favorite kitten jump up in the low window seat to bask in the warm sunshine. Charlotte saw the little cat put out her paw to play with something, and just as she was opposite the window a small bright piece rolled down into the road. She hastened forward and picked it up; it was a bright new five-pence.

"This must be Annie's," she thought; and looking in the window she saw the room was empty, and Annie's Bible and handkerchief laid on the window seat. Puss was busy playing with the leaves of the book, and Charlotte walked slowly on with the piece yet in her hand.

"How pretty and bright it looks," she thought. "I wish that I had one to give. I know the girls will stare to see Annie put in so much. How lucky it was that I passed; if I had not it would have been lost, or some one else would have picked it up. I will give it to her in school; I shall not keep it, of course." Thus quieting her conscience she walked quickly to school, and took her seat among the rest.

How gradual is the descent to sin. Charlotte would have spurned the idea of stealing, and yet from desiring to give with a wrong motive she had been led on step by step, and when the girl who sat next her asked what she had brought, she opened her hand and showed the piece of money.

School had commenced when Annie came in; she looked disheartened, and her eyes were red with crying. Charlotte's heart smote her, and could she have spoken to Annie, she would doubtless have returned the piece of money, but she dared not leave her seat, and after a few moments it was whispered around the class that Annie Grey had lost her mission money. Then the girls about Charlotte told each other how much she had brought, and she began to think,

"What difference will it make if I put it in the box? it is all the same, Annie says, who gives the money, so that it is given;" and so when the box was handed round she dropped the five cent piece in. Her conscience reproved her severely as she glanced at poor Annie, whose tears were flowing afresh, and who, when the teacher handed her the box, said in low, broken tones, that she had lost her offering and had nothing to give.

After dismissal the children crowded around Annie, pitying and questioning her. Charlotte moved away, she could not speak to her injured friend; but as she passed she heard Annie say, "I laid it on my Bible. I was just about tying it in the corner of my pocket handkerchief when mother called me away; when I came back it was gone. Kitty was sitting in the window, and I suppose must have knocked it down in the road. I searched all over the room, and out in the road, but could not find it."

"I am really sorry," said one.

"And I, and I," added three or four more.

"Let us go and help her look for it again," said they all, "perhaps we may find it yet," for Annie's gentleness had made her beloved by all.

Charlotte's feelings were far from enviable as she went towards home; she hated herself and felt perfectly miserable. As soon as she arrived at the house she went hastily up stairs, and took off the hateful ribbon, as it now appeared, with a feeling of disgust, and throwing herself on the bed cried long and bitterly. Charlotte did not know how to pray to God to give her a clean heart and forgive her sin; she never thought of asking His forgiveness, or confessing her fault; she felt sick at heart, restless and unhappy. Such are ever the consequences of sin. She ate no dinner, and her mother told her to go and lie down, as she did not look well. Charlotte gladly went up stairs again, and after another hearty crying spell fell fast asleep.

When she awoke it was evening, and going down stairs she found that her mother had gone to visit a neighbor. Charlotte stood out by the door, and although it was a lovely summer night, a gloom seemed to her to overhang everything. Her little brothers spoke to her, and she answered them harshly and sent them away. While she stood idly musing a miserable old beggar woman, who bore but an indifferent character in the neighborhood, came hobbling along; she came up to the little girl and asked an alms. Almost instinctively she put her hand in her pocket, and taking thence the three cents placed them with a feeling of relief in the beggar's hand. She thought she was doing a good act, and would atone for her wicked conduct. The old woman was profuse of thanks, and taking from her dirty apron a double handful of sour and unripe fruit, placed it in Charlotte's lap and went away.

Charlotte's parents had forbidden her eating unripe fruit; but a day begun in sin was not unlikely to end in disobedience. She felt feverish and thirsty, and so biting one of the apples went on eating until all were gone. She then went up to bed, and feeling afraid to be alone, for a bad conscience is always fearful, she closed her eyes and fell almost immediately asleep.

She was awakened in the night by sharp and violent pain; she dreaded to call her mother, as she would have to tell her what she had been eating, and so she bore the suffering as long as she could; but her restless tossings and moans aroused her mother, who slept in an adjoining room, and hastening in to her daughter, she found her in a high state of fever. She did all she could for her, but the next morning Charlotte was so much worse that a physician was sent for. She was quite delirious when he came, and he pronounced her situation dangerous.

The poor girl raved incessantly about ribbons and Annie's tearful face, and seemed to be in great distress of mind. Annie heard that Charlotte was very ill, and came to see her. She was shocked to hear her talk so wildly, and to see her face flushed with fever. She stayed some time, but Charlotte did not know her, although she often mentioned her name. When Annie returned home she asked her mother's permission to stay with Charlotte as much as possible, which Mrs. Grey cheerfully gave, and went to visit her herself.

For a whole week poor Charlotte's fever raged violently, and as Annie or her mother were with her constantly, they could not fail to discover from the sick girl's ravings that she had taken the lost fivepence. Annie, however, who heartily forgave her playmate, never mentioned what she heard to her mother, and Mrs. Grey also wisely refrained from telling her suspicions. She was better acquainted with the treatment of the sick than Mrs. Murray, and she watched over Charlotte with the tenderness of a mother. One day Annie sat reading her Bible by the bedside when Charlotte awoke from a long sleep, the first she had enjoyed, and looking towards Annie said in a feeble voice,

"Oh, dear Annie, is that you?"

The little girl rose, and bending over her sick playmate, begged her in a gentle voice to lie still and be quiet.

"I will, I will," answered Charlotte, clasping her hands feebly about her friend's neck as she leaned towards her, "if you will only say you forgive me. Oh, you know not what a wicked girl I am, and yet it seems as if I had been telling everybody."

"Never mind now, dear," whispered Annie, "only keep still or you will bring on your fever again."

"I believe I have been very ill, and have said many strange things," murmured Charlotte, "but I know you now and understand what I say. Do you think you can forgive me, Annie?"

"Yes, dear Charlotte, and I love you better than ever now, so do not talk any more." Annie kissed her tenderly as she spoke, and the sick girl laid her head upon the pillow still holding Annie's hand in her own.

From this time Charlotte rapidly improved, and one afternoon, when her mother and Mrs. Grey and Annie were sitting with her, she told them the whole truth about the lost money, and begged them to forgive her. Little Annie, whose tears were flowing fast, kissing her again and again, assured her of her entire forgiveness, and told her never to mention it again.

Mrs. Grey then said, "I think that we all forgive your fault, my dear child, but there is One whose forgiveness you must first seek before your repentance can be sincere. The sin you have committed against God is far greater than any injury you have done us. In the first place, my dear Charlotte, you wished to give with a wrong motive; you did not seek to please God and serve Him, by giving your trifle with a sincere heart and earnest prayers. You sought rather the praise of your teachers; and worse even than this, you wished to awaken the envy of your companions. Such a gift, however large, could never be acceptable to the just God, who knows all hearts, and bids us to do good in secret and He will reward us openly. You see, my little girl, how one misstep makes the way for another,—how this pride begat envy, and envy covetousness, and then how quickly did deceit and dishonesty and disobedience come after. Do not think me harsh, my dear child, from my heart I forgive you; your punishment has been severe, but I trust it will be to you a well-spring of grace; and now let us humbly ask the forgiveness and blessing of that just and yet merciful God who for Jesus' sake will hear our prayers."

They knelt, and Mrs. Grey made a touching and earnest prayer; even Mrs. Murray was affected to tears; she felt ashamed of her daughter's conduct; she knew she herself was to blame, and this event had a good effect upon her future conduct.

After a little while Charlotte asked for her box, and taking out the pink ribbon placed it in Mrs. Grey's hand and begged her to burn it, as she could not bear to see it.

"No," said Mrs. Grey, "keep it, Charlotte; it will remind you of your fatal error, and perhaps, through God's blessing, may sometimes lead you from the path of sin into that of holiness."

Charlotte took her friend's advice, and after her recovery never gave utterance to a falsehood. She and Annie became Sunday-school teachers, and through the grace of God Charlotte was the means of bringing her whole family into the fold of the Good Shepherd; and while she lived she always carefully treasured the pink ribbon, which was a memento alike of her fault and her sincere repentance.

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LETTER FROM A FATHER TO A SON

My Dear Son:—Seldom, if ever, have I perused a letter of deeper interest to myself as a father, than the one you lately addressed to your sister. Long had it been my daily prayer that the Spirit of God would impress you with the importance of becoming a Christian; from your letter I infer that you are anxiously inquiring after the "great salvation." It is all-important that you be guided aright. What must you do?

The Bible should be our guide in matters involving our spiritual interests, and we need not fear to follow its directions. The Bible declares that in order to be saved the sinner must "repent." This is the first step.

But what is it to repent? Let me tell you. Suppose, then, that a person spreads a false and injurious report about another, by which his character is wounded, his influence lessened, and his business destroyed. This is wrong. Of this wrong, the injurer at length becoming sensible, and deeply regretting it, repairs to the one whom he has injured, confesses the wrong, seeks forgiveness, does all in his power to make amends, and offends no more. This is repentance.

Now, when such sorrow is exercised toward God for wrong done to Him, when that wrong is deeply deplored, is honestly confessed, and is followed by a permanent reformation, that is repentance toward God. Such repentance God requires; nor can one become a Christian who does not exercise it. This is one unalterable condition of salvation. I do not mean that the penitent sinner will never afterwards, in no instance, sin again. He may sometimes, again, do wrong, for so long as he is in the world imperfection will pertain to him; but the ruling power of sin will be broken in his heart. He may sometimes sin; but whenever he does he will lament it. He will retire to his closet, and while there alone with God his tears will flow. Oh! how will he pray and wrestle that he may be forgiven; and what solemn resolutions will he make to sin no more! This he will continue to do month after month, and year after year, as long as he lives, as long as he ever does any wrong. To forsake sin becomes a principle of his life; to confess and forsake it, a habit of his soul. Repentance, then, is the first step.

But the Bible adds, "Repent and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Belief, or faith, as it is called, is another exercise required in order to be saved. What now is faith? Let me illustrate this.

Suppose a person is standing on the branch of a tree. It appears to be sufficiently firm to bear him, and he feels secure. But presently he perceives that it is beginning to break, and if it break he may be dashed on the rocks below. What shall he do? He looks abroad for help. At this critical moment a person presents himself at the foot of the tree, and says, "Let go, let go, and I will catch you." But he is afraid. He fears that the person may not be able, or may be unwilling to save him. But the branch continues to break, and destruction is before him. Meanwhile the kind-hearted person below renews his assurance, "Let go, let go, confide in me and I'll catch you." At last the person on the branch becomes satisfied that no other hope remains for him, so he says, "I'll do as this friend bids me; I'll trust him." He lets go, falls, and the other catches him. This is faith, or in other words it is confidence.

Now the sinner is liable to fall under the wrath of God for the wrong he has done, and there to perish. He may repent of that wrong, and repentance is most reasonable, and is, we have seen, required; but repentance of itself never repairs a wrong. One may repent that he has killed another, but that does not restore life. One may be sorry that he has broken God's commands, but that does not repair the dishonor done to the Divine government. That government must be upheld. How can it be done? I will tell you how it has been done. Christ consented to take the sinner's place. On the cross he suffered for and instead of the sinner; and God has decided that whosoever, being penitent for sin, will confide in his Son, or trust him, shall be saved.

Sinners are wont to put a high value upon some goodness which they fancy they possess, or upon good actions which they imagine they have done. These, they conceive, are sufficient to save them; and sinners generally feel quite secure. How little concerned, my son, have you been. But sinners mistake as to their goodness. They are all "dead in trespasses and sins." They are under condemnation. They are in imminent danger. Any day they may fall into the hands of an angry God. Sinners under conviction see this and feel this. The branch of self-righteousness on which they stand is insufficient to bear them. By-and-by it begins to give way. When the sinner feels this he cries, "What shall I do? Who will save me?"

Now Christ is commissioned to save, and when the poor sinner sees that he is about to perish, and in that state cries for help, Christ comes to him and says, "Let go all hope in yourself; let go dependence upon every other thing; trust to me and I will save you." "Come, for all things are ready." But may be the sinner is afraid. Will Christ do as he promises? Is he able to save? Well, the sinner looks round—he hesitates—perhaps prays—weeps—promises; but while all these are well enough in their places, they never of themselves bring peace and safety to the anxious heart. At length he sees and feels that there is no one but Christ, who stands as it were at the bottom of the tree, that can save him. And now he lifts up his voice and cries, "Lord, save me, or I perish." Into the hands of Christ he falls, and from that moment he is safe. This is Gospel faith or confidence.

And this repentance and faith which I have described are necessary in order to salvation. So the Bible decides; and whenever a soul exercises them that soul is a Christian soul, and that man is a Christian man.

There is yet one question further of great moment. You hope, perhaps, that you are a Christian—that you have truly repented, and do exercise true faith. You ask, How shall one decide?

I will tell you this also. Suppose you agree with a nurseryman to furnish you with a tree of a particular kind. He brings you one. You inquire, "Is this the kind of tree I engaged?" He replies, "Yes." But you say, "How do I know? It looks indeed like the tree in question, and you say it is; but there are other trees which strongly resemble it." He rejoins, "I myself grafted it, and I almost know." "Ah! yes, almost; but are you certain?" "No," he replies, "I am not absolutely certain, and no one can be sure at this moment." "But what shall I do?" you ask. "I want that particular tree." "Well," says he, "I will suggest one infallible test. Set it out on your grounds. It will soon bear fruit, and that will be a sure and satisfactory test." "Is there no other way?" you ask—"no shorter, better way?" "None," he replies. "This is the only sure evidence which man can have."

Let us apply these remarks. As there is but one infallible test as to a tree, so there is but one in respect to a man claiming to be a Christian. "What fruit does he bear?" "By their fruits," says our Savior, "ye shall know them." Only a good tree brings forth good fruit. Here, then, we have a plain, simple, and, I may add, infallible rule for testing ourselves. What kind of fruit are we bearing? What fruit must we bear? "The fruits of the Spirit," says the Bible, "are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith," &c. If, then, we have been born of the Spirit, i.e., born again, or in other words, if we are Christians, we shall bear the fruits of the Spirit.

I have known persons suggest various marks or tests by which to try themselves; but I have never found any which could certainly be depended upon besides the one which I have named—the fruit which one brings forth. The application of this test requires time. For evidence of Christian character, a person must examine himself month after month and year after year. His great aim must be to glorify God. He will, therefore, strive to keep his commandments. He will shun all known evil, and let others see that he sets a high value upon all that is "lovely and of good report." He will pray, not one day or one month, but habitually. His life will be a life of prayer, and in all the duties of the Christian profession he will endeavor to persevere. He will find himself imperfect, and will sometimes fail; but when he fails he will not sink down in despair and give up, but he will repent and say, "I'll do better next time;" and thus he will go forward gathering strength. Many trials and difficulties he will find, but the way will grow smoother and easier. His evidence will increase. The path of the righteous is as the light which shines brighter and brighter unto the perfect day.

And now, my dear son, are you willing to set out in all sober earnestness so to live, not one day, but always? If you are, God will bless and aid you. You will be a happy boy, and as you grow older you will be happier still; and in the end you will go to God and to your pious friends now in heaven, or who may hereafter reach that blissful abode, and spend an eternity in loving, praising and serving God. This is the constant prayer of your affectionate father.

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Mrs. Whittelsey's Magazine for Mothers and Daughters

THE MISSION MONEY: OR, THE PRIDE OF CHARITY

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LETTER FROM A FATHER TO A SON

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