ON PROMPTNESS, NEATNESS, AND ORDER.

COUSIN EDWIN is a large boy. He is twelve years old. His father died before I was born, and my father took him home as his own son.

Edwin has his own special work to do every morning, and my father has learned him to be very prompt. He

Questions. What has Edwin to do every morning? What has he learned?

was not old enough to do much besides preparing the kindling wood for the fires until last spring; but since that time he has had the care of the horse and the cow.

He says, as soon as he hears the first bell in the morning, he jumps right out of bed, and dashes a plenty of cold water upon his face and neck, and that wakes him up. It does not take him long to wash him thoroughly and brush his hair; and then he is down, as gay as a lark, and goes, singing or whistling, out to feed the cow and pony.

He says he used to think he must lie a while, after the bell roused him, to get his eyes open; but very often his eyes did not open, and he would get sound asleep again. It did not please my father to be obliged to call him the second time; and he told Edwin to try the new way of jumping out of bed half asleep, and wake himself by washing. Edwin says, now, he would not lie in bed if he could, for he feels all the better for early rising.

My father teaches us all to bid each other a pleasant "Good morning" when we first meet, each day, just as

How does he get awake in the morning? Does he make himself tidy? What did he use to think, when he heard the bell ring? Would he choose to lie in bed if he could? Why? Is it proper to bid each of your friends, as you meet

though we were strangers visiting together. He says it is a great mistake if we are not civil and kind to each other we, who are really such good and dear friends. He says it is a pity if we cannot show as much kindness to those we love so well as we should be ready to show to strangers. Besides, he tells us the only way to have our good manners appear easy and graceful is to be in the constant use of them.

In the summer time cousin Edwin has a very pleasant walk, every morning, in driving the cow to pasture. Brother Henry used to go with him sometimes, though not very often, because Edwin had to hasten, in order to get back by breakfast time. I think next summer Henry will be able to walk as fast as Edwin. I know my father will like to have Henry go, for he says it is very much for our health to be out early in the sweet morning air, and those children who get the habit of going out early will not be likely to grow up to be lazy, useless people.

them, a pleasant "Good morning"? Should you not be as kind to your friends as to strangers? What will render your manners easy and graceful? What is a pleasant exercise for Edwin in the summer? to have you be out early on summer mornings?

Why does your father like Will early risers be likely to

In the summer, I, too, have a little work that I can do, and that calls me out into the yard early. Last summer our speckled hen had ten chickens, and our mother said that Henry and I must feed them every morning. I believe chickens are early risers; for, though I used to jump out of bed, just as Edwin said, as soon as the first bell rung, and get ready to go down stairs very quickly, yet the chickens were always out before me, and they seemed earnest for their breakfast, as though they had waited for it a good while. I love dearly to see the chickens pick up their food; and after that we always give them a basin of fresh water.

My father is a very prompt man. He says every one in the family must know just what he has got to do, and must do it. He says it saves a great deal of trouble and unkind feeling. He says, where there is no such order, the father or the mother, when any little thing is necessary to be done, calls first upon one, and then upon another, but nobody is quite ready, and the children wait, one for the other, hoping to get clear of doing it; and as often as

grow up lazy and useless? Is there any thing to call you out in the yard early? Are chickens early risers? Do you love to feed them? In a family

any way the parent does it himself, to stop their bickerings about it. It is never so in our family. Father says it needs but few words when we know beforehand what we must do, and we go about our little duties pleasantly.

My father says, where there is promptness and order, there is time to be neat. I do not know what would be thought of us, if Henry, or I, or Hannah should go to the table without being washed and having our hair brushed. And yet I believe some children do so; for last summer, when we were visiting at uncle Gray's, our cousins, and one of them is as old as Edwin, came to the table rubbing their eyes as though they had just got out of bed. Their mother did indeed send them to wash before she would

allow them to eat; pleasantly about it.

but they did not look as if they felt

They could not be ready to sit down with us, and my uncle would not wait for them. When they did come, their heads were not combed or brushed; and I am sure they did not look so happy as cousin Edwin does when he sits down to the table.

where there is order and promptness, what does every one know? What does it save? When are but few words needed? Where is there time to be neat? Should you ever go to the table without being properly washed and your hair