she went there with Jane to tea; and he always tried to tease Susie. He would push against her in the street, so as to give her a sudden shake, and then pretend that it was quite by accident; or he would call out after her as she was running home, "Susie, why were you kept in at school to-day ?" Once he knocked her copy-book out of her hand, and laughed to see it blowing along the dusty road.

Susie would have complained of him to her mother, but she knew that Jem's father would then be told of it, and Jem would be severely punished; and our tenderhearted little Susie could not bear to be the means of that. So she kept her troubles mostly to herself. But Susie disliked him more and more. She generally ran out of the way if she saw him coming; and she would turn down two or three streets, if necessary, to avoid him. Jem soon discovered this; and he amused himself with her fears, and did all he could to vex and annoy her.

It was therefore not strange that Susie had but little hope of making him more friendly. Indeed, she had not much desire to do so. 66 'Aunt," she said, “I know my text says, 'Love your enemies,' but I really cannot love Jem; there is nothing to like about him."

"You are not required to love him, Susie, with the same kind of love with which you love me. It is not possible that you should. But you can pity Jem; you can find out all the excuses that are to be made for his conduct; and you can pray for him, Susie, that he may become a better boy."

"Yes, aunt, I can."

"And, Susie, you can try and feel kindly towards

him; and if you should be able to help him in any way, you can do so readily and cheerfully."

Susie was silent: perhaps she thought this was going rather too far. But I think her aunt's remarks did her good. The next day she was coming out of Emma Perkins' house with her sister Jane. They had been to bid Emma good-bye. She had left school, and was

going to London to live with an aunt who was a dressmaker. As they came out at the door, Jem ran up the steps. Susie turned away, but less pointedly than usual.

"Well, little one," said Jem, "have you learned your text rightly yet ? have you begun to 'love your enemies ?""

Susie coloured a little, but she looked at him and said as pleasantly as she could, "I am trying to, Jem."

Jem was so surprised at the answer, that he had not anything else ready to say; and Susie and Jane walked off before he had time to speak to them again.

Two or three weeks afterwards, as Susie was having her tea, her father came in from the shop, where he had been serving a customer, and said, "I hear that Jem Horton has met with a sad accident: He fell from a tree last evening and broke his leg; and he is likely to be laid up for some time."

The children looked grave. "How did it happen, father ?" asked Susie.

"That is the worst of it, Susie. He was where he had no business to be-engaged with two or three other boys in stealing pears off Mr. Johnson's tree. A large bough on which he ventured was not strong enough to bear his weight: it snapped under him, and

he was thrown violently to the ground. He was carried home by two or three men, and the doctor was sent for. He is doing as well as can be expected, but he is in great pain, and has a good deal of fever. It will be a warning to him, I hope, if he lives."

"Poor boy!" said Mrs. Morris, "I was always afraid he would come to some harm. But perhaps this accident may be really a blessing to him. It will separate him from his bad companions, and give him time to reflect."

Had Jem's accident happened before Susie's better feelings had changed her dislike into compassion for him, I am afraid she would not have been in the least sorry for it. She would have said, as some of the neighbours did say, that it served him quite right, and was no more than he deserved. Ah, dear reader, if we had only what we deserve, what would become of any of us? But Susie knew better than this now. She had learned of Him who is meek and lowly in heart: and one of the sweetest lessons which he teaches us is to love our enemies.

Susie felt grieved, not only that Jem was hurt, but that he had been guilty of the sin of stealing. When she knelt to say her prayers, she asked God to forgive him, and to change his heart, so that he might hate his bad ways, and wish to do that which was right. She thought of him, lying on his little bed suffering, and unable to move. His father was out all day, his aunt, she did not fancy, would be very patient or gentle with him; she would be sure to remind him that he had brought it upon himself. Susie could not help pitying him very much.

and

Some days passed, and then Susie heard that Jem was not much better. The doctor said that it would be a long time before he would be able to walk again; and he was afraid that he would perhaps be always rather lame. Jem was very cross and unhappy. He was obliged to lie still from morning till night, and he was in constant pain. He had very little to amuse him, and nobody went near him. His old companions were not allowed to be with him, nor did they want to be shut up in a room with a pale, sickly boy, who could no longer share their sports nor add to their merriment. He had no other friends except John Morris, and he was absent from home. Harry and he had never suited together, and were not likely to do so now.

Susie often thought about him, and wished she could do something for him. One day, when she had finished marking a set of shirts for her father, her mother made her a little cake, all for herself. Susie, like most children, was fond of cake. But the next afternoon she said to her mother, "Mother, would you mind if I gave half of my cake away ?"

"To whom do you want to give it, Susie ?"

"To Jem Horton," said Susie.

"To Jem Horton !" repeated her mother, in a tone of astonishment; "why, I thought you disliked him so very much."

"Yes, I used to do, mother, but I have partly forgotten that since his leg was broken. He has nobody to be kind to him, and he is very miserable: Bessy Wilson told me so yesterday. She saw him when she went there with a message to his aunt; and she says he has got so thin, she should hardly have known him.

He cannot eat much, because his appetite is so bad. And I thought he would so enjoy a piece of this nice cake."

"I have no doubt he would, Susie; but I made it for you."

"Half of it will be plenty for me," said Susie, eagerly; "and I should so like to give it to Jem."

Well, Susie, it is your own, so you are at liberty to do as you please with it."

"And may I go and carry it to him, mother ?"

Mrs. Morris hesitated a minute, and then she thought of her own boys, and how thankful she was that they were not like poor and so she said, "Yes, Susie, you may go."

Jem;

Susie cut the cake in two, and then she put on her bonnet and cloak, and set off to Jem's. She also took a little book, which aunt Mary had given her on her last birthday, in her pocket with her, that she might lend it to Jem to read.

His aunt opened the door. She was busy washing; so, when Susie had told her errand, she directed her to go up the stairs into the first front room, where she would find Jem. Susie went softly up. The door was half open. She peeped in and could see Jem propped up on a chair, and looking both ill and unhappy. She knocked gently, and Jem said, "Who is there ? Come in."

The little visitor entered. 'Why, Susie," he cried, "I did not think of seeing you !"

He was still more surprised when Susie sat down beside him, and showed him what she had brought for him. "Mother made me a little cake all to myself,