some one who was then passing.

"I can direct and carry the letter," said George's younger brother;
"I know to whom it is to go, and I can send it just as well as you."

George had a slight feeling in his heart that he ought not to leave
this letter to any one to direct; but his brother again said, "I
should think I could do such a trifling thing as that; I can surely
direct a letter, though I cannot write one yet."

Frank was the younger apprentice, and was anxious to get forward and
do what George did.

"Well," said George, "you may do it, but be sure you do it right.
John Reid, you know, is the name;" and he went with his companion.
"It is only a trifle," he said to himself, as he remembered his
father's charge. "I have done all that is really important. It is of
little consequence who directs and carries the letter." So he chased
away the slight cloud that hung over his mind as he left the
counting room with his friend.

These slight clouds that rise in the soul's horizon, so prophetic,
so full of mercy or of terror as we regard or slight them! "Why do
we not learn their meaning? Why are they not ever messengers of love
and peace to us? Had George stopped and considered, perhaps he would
not have done as he did, perhaps he would not have called this duty
a trifle, and would not have left the counting room till he had
performed every tittle of his father's command.

The letter was directed and sent. Frank did as well as he knew how.