near her. The smallest of these was a little black-eyed boy, who moved
about on the seat as much as any one, and made rather more than his
share of noise. He had a little book of pictures, which he was eagerly
displaying to the little ones around him; and several times had his
earnest explanations been interrupted by the voice of the teacher,
saying, "Willy, my dear, you must look at the pictures without talking;"
when a rude boy stepped up and snatched it from his hand.

Now, what would you have done, if you had been in Willy's place just
then? Would you have struck your naughty little playmate, or called him
bad names? or should you have tried to snatch the book back again? Willy
knew a better way. He looked troubled, indeed, at first. He asked for
the book in a very coaxing tone; but when he found that the selfish
Henry would not give it up, he quietly turned away to find amusement
in something else.

A little girl, who sat near, now handed Willy a large yellow-covered
book, full of beautiful painted pictures. His eyes now sparkled more
brightly than ever, as he began to turn over the leaves. Soon Henry
spied the pretty book; and not at all ashamed of his unkindness, he
moved towards Willy, and began to look over his shoulder. Would you not
have pushed him away, or at least have turned round so as to conceal the
book? But Willy held it towards him and pointed to the bright pictures
as pleasantly as if Henry had never been unkind to him.

When school had closed, and the children had left the room, Miss H. said
to the teacher, "Who is that little boy you called Willy?" "His name is
William D----," said the teacher; "but why do you wish to know?"
"Because I know he has a _good mother_," was the reply.