lady and her young daughter were travelling by train. two gentlemen occupied seats in the same carriage, and presently entered into conversation with each other. their language was such as pained their fellow-traveller to hear. the sacred name of the deity lightly uttered, the profane oath on their lips, showed how little they regarded that solemn warning, “for every idle word men shall speak, they shall give an account the day of judgment.” fearful of uttering her thoughts to the strangers, the lady turned to her daughter, who, after having shown[38] the fidgety restlessness common to children upon a journey, now sat still with open eyes and ears, a wondering listener to the conversation.

in the train.

anxious to divert the attention of adine, the lady pointed out to her various objects on the road, and then proceeded to repeat anecdote after anecdote from the funds of a well-stocked memory. adine was soon all attention; and at last even the gentlemen, having worn out their own subject of conversation,[39] paused to listen to the mother entertaining her child.

“did i ever tell you the story of a great king,” said the lady, “who once overheard two of his courtiers speaking in a way greatly to displease him? he gently drew back the curtains of his tent, and uttered this quiet reproof: ‘remove a little further, gentlemen, for your king hears you!’

“adine,” continued the mother, with a flushed cheek and beating heart, for she wished, yet feared, to make her lesson plain to the older listeners, “may not some people yet need such a reproof?”

“it would be of no use, mamma,” replied the child simply; “for, let us remove as far as we can, our heavenly king always hears us!”

there was not another oath uttered during the remainder of that journey; the lesson had not been given in vain.