sorry my brave soldier should have been such a coward to-day."

Tom flung up his head a little proudly. "I am not a coward, Miss
Goldthwaite."

"Yes, Tom; you remember how Jesus stood all the buffeting and cruelty
of his persecutors, when he could so easily have smitten them all to
death if he had willed. Compare your petty trials with his, and think
how weak you have been."

Tom was silent. "When my temper is up, Miss Goldthwaite," he said at
length, "I don't care for anything or anybody, except to get it out
somehow. I was keeping so straight, too; I hadn't once answered back
to Uncle Josh or Aunt Hepsy for weeks. It's no use trying to be
good."

"No use? Why, Tom, if everybody gave up at the first stumble, what
would become of the world, do you think? Our life, you know, is
nothing but falling and rising again, and will be till we reach the
land where all these trials are over. Keep up a brave heart. Begin
again, and keep a double watch over self."

"I feel as if it would be easy enough to do it when I'm talking to
you or Mr. Goldthwaite, but at home it is different. I shall never be
able to get on with them though I live a hundred years. And O Miss
Goldthwaite, you don't know how I want to go on drawing and painting.
I feel as if I could die sometimes because I can't."

"When the time comes, dear; and it will come sooner, perhaps, than
you think," said Miss Carrie hopefully. "You will prize it all the