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. FOR BOYS. AND GIRLS.

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FOR BOYS. AND GIRLS. No Time Like the Present. BY AMY CRIPPS VERNON. Isobel Stanton was a little girl who believed in never doing to-day what you could possibly put off till to-morrow. In vain did her mother remind her of the well-known saying, There is no time like the present." Isobel continually delayed the accomplishment of ( every task that was set her until she could 1 delay no longer—the last minute was her time for doing everything. On one occasion her mother handed her a letter, saying Isobel, dear, just run across to your Aunt Edith's with this note, and wait for an answer." Isobel looked up from the book she was read- ing with a sigh. Wouldn't it do, mother, if I took it after I have finished this chapter t It is so inter- esting." Well, yes, it would do, Belle but there is Do time like the present, you know." And so Isobel found later on to her cost She became so engrossed in the interesting chapter that, without meaning to be dis- obedient, she read the next and the next, quite forgetting about her mother's note, until she closed the book at last because she had come to the end of the story, and then her eye fell upon the envelope lying on the table near her. With a sudden start of remembrance, she snatched up the letter, and seizing her garden hat which hung in the hall, rushed out of the house, hoping her mother would not call her back to ask why she had delayed so long in taking her message. It did not take more than five minutes to reach Aunt Edith s house, but when she arrived there, hot and breathless r with running, it was to learn that the lady was | Uucle Harry was at home, however, and f When he heard his little niece's voice he came out into the hall. "Ah, Isobel What a pity you were not here ten minutes earlier," he said. Your aunt and cousins have gone for a picnic to Daly W oods, and if you had been here you could have gone With them." Poor Isobel Her face showed the great dis- appointment she felt. Of all things she loved a picnic with Aunt Edith and Ray and Hilary, especially in the beautiful Daley Woods. And how cool and inviting they would look on this hot summer day As Isobel walked slowly homewards, the tears would force themselves from beneath her eye- lids, and there was an added sting to her re- gret in the reflection that had she taken the I message at once as her mother had evidently | wished, she would have been in plenty of time | to join the picnic party. I Mrs. Stanton, of course, inquired the cause of her little daughter's distress when she saw her, and as Isobel told her tale there was something in the expression of her mother's face that caused a sudden suspicion to flash into the little girl's mind. Had her mother known of the intended picnic and refrained from telling her, that she might learn a much- needed lesson. I think Mrs. Stanton must have guessed what Was passing in the child's mind, for she said, gently: If you had only waited to finish one chap- ter, Isobel, you would still have been in time but I fancy you must have read several before going to Aunt Edith's." Isobel blushed and drooped her head. forgot, mother," she faltered. "It Was so exciting that I did not notice I was reading on to the next chapter, and then I didn't remember anything till I had finished the book." Exactly, dear I guessed how it would be, and that was why I reminded you that it is best to take advantage of the present. Let this disappointment teach you a lesson, my child, and in future do what you have to do at once." And for a littl while Isobel did improve hut she soon fell back into her old habits—her TOme lessons were left until too late to learn thezn, and she would resolve to rise earlier the Mxt day to make up for lost time but when the mornjxie- came she could not make up her mind to leave her comfortable bed till the last mmnte. and. the consequence was that she was constantly losing marks, and getting lower and lower in her class. And it was the same with everything ee-Isobel was always putting off and in spite of many sharp lessons which she received from time to time, reminding her that there was no time like the present," the bad habit grew upon her, and as Isobel grew herself, this fault began to assume a serious aspect. Even when this fact was pointed out to her, Isobel only said, Well, of course, when I am older I shall cure myself, and be very differ- ent." Ah, Isobel remarked her mother, sadly to cure oneself of a fault there is certainly no time like the present. The longer a habit is indulged in the more it will grow upon one, until it becomes harder and harder to break oneself of it." Isobel listened, but she did not hee so the fatal habit was not overcome, untiPbne day such a dreadful accident occurred through her love of postponing a duty that the punishment brought to pass the reformation that love and exhortation had failed to accomplish. When Isobel was thirteen years old she re- ceived an invitation from an aunt who lived in London to pay a long visit to the great city, that she might have an opportunity of seeing the world-famed and historical sights that hitherto she had only heard or read of. She was naturally much excited over the happy prospect before her, an 1 for a little while she eagerly assisted her mother in preparing her wardrobe in readiness for her visit. But very soon her interest in this part of the programme began to flag, and her mother would find an appointed task left undone, and Isobel deep in the perusal of a book. Isobel," said Mrs. Stanton on one of these occasions, I thought you promised me to have all these buttons sewn on by dinner time." The daughter looked up with a start. Oh, yes, mother but I thought this after- noon would do just aa well. I am reading such an interesting account of the Tower of London, and it is all the nicer as I shall so soon see it formvself." You are going out this afternoon, Isobel.' And with a sigh, Mrs. Stanton threaded a needle and stitched on the neglected buttons. And so it went on, and by the time the day before Isobel was to leave home had arrived the little girl had read up a great deal of infor- mation concerning the sights of London, but had given her mother very little help towards getting her clothes ready. Isobel!" exclaimed her mother on that last morning. Look at the braid hanging from your skirt! That is very dangerous, and must be mended at once." Isobel glanced down to where a large loop of braid hung from the front of her frock. Yes, I stepped on it as I ran upstairs," she answered. I was in a hurry because I had not written the letter you told me to write Aunt Mary directly after breakfast, and I thought you would be vexed if you found it not written." Then sit down and mend it at once, Isobel, before you do anythingelse. You can do a little thing like that for yourself, and I have no time. I must go now and mend those stockings that you promised to darn yesterday, before I pack your boxes." Isobel sat down, and slowly took a needle-case from her mother's work-box. Then she glanced out of the window and saw her cousin Ray coming through the garden gate, and hastily taking a pin instead of a needle, she pinned up the offending piece of braid and ran out to meet her cousin, telling her conscience that a pin would be as safe as a needle and thread for a few minutes, and she could sew it on while she was talking to Ray. Ray, however, proposed that as it was such a lovely morning, they should walk round the garden .and in the interest of their conversation Isobel completely forgot her frock. "I wish you and Hilary were coming, too," she was saying, when her mother called to her from an upper window to come and fetch Aunt Mary's letter, which she had forgotten to post. Wait for me, Ray I won't be a minute, and we can go to the post together. It is the letter I've written to tell Aunt Mary the train I am travelling by." She rushed upstairs, not noticing that the carelessly stuck-in pin had dropped from her dress, seized the letter, flew back agaiu, and on the top stair caught her foot in the hanging braid, and was pitched headlong downstairs with the imprisoned foot under her. I do not care to linger over this part of my story, though I must tell my little readers that Isobel's leg was broken ana her spine badly bruised, and that instead of the beautiful visit t.o London she had to spend many weary months upon a hed of pain. Everybody was very kind to her, and nobody ever reminded that it was through her own fault that the accident had happened. Hilary and Ray were always rcjxly to come and read or play with her, and both little girls, by their loving companionship, did much to lighten their cousin's heavy trial. Neither did her fanner or mother reproach her,and this touched Isobel deeply, and she made a true resolve to exert herself to conquer her fatal enemy,and to Mrs. Stanton's joy, when her little daughter came downstairs again, she saw that she was really trying never to leave for the future a duty which should be performed in the present. i-

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