Sir John said nothing, but looked at Lady Belfield, whose eyes glistened while she softly said, "O, how little do the rich ever think what the aggregate even of their own squandered shillings would do in the way of charity, were they systematically applied to it!" James now unlocked a little private door, which opened into the pleasure-ground. There, at a distance, sitting in a circle on the new-mown grass, under a tree, we beheld all the little Stanleys, with a basket of flowers between them, out of which they were earnestly employed in sorting and tying up nosegays. We stood some time admiring their little busy faces and active fingers, without their perceiving us, and got up to them just as they were putting their prettily-formed bouquets into Rachel's basket, with which she marched off, with many charges from the children to waste no time by the way, and to be sure to leave the nosegay that had the myrtle in it at Mrs. Williams's. "How many nosegays have you given to Rachel to-day, Louisa?" said Dr. Barlow to the eldest of the four. "Only three apiece, sir," replied she. "We think it a bad day when we can't make up our dozen. They are all our own; we seldom touch mamma's flowers, and we never suffer James to take ours, because Ph[oe]be says it might be tempting him. Little Jane lamented that Lucilla had given them nothing to-day, except two or three sprigs of her best flowering myrtle, which," added she, "we make Rachel give into the bargain to a poor sick lady who loves flowers, and used to have good ones of her own, but who has now no money to spare, and could not afford to give more than the common price for a nosegay for her sick room. So we always slip a nice flower or two out of the green-house into her little bunch, and say nothing. When we walk that way we often leave her some flowers ourselves, and would do it oftener if it did not hurt poor Rachel's trade." As we walked away from the sweet prattlers, Dr. Barlow said: "These little creatures already emulate their sisters in associating some petty kindness with their own pleasures. The act is trifling, but the habit is good; as is every habit which helps to take us out of self, which teaches us to transfer our attention from our own gratification to the wants or the pleasures of another." "I confess," said Lady Belfield, as we entered the house, "that it never occurred to me that it was any part of charity to train my children to the habit of sacrificing their time or their pleasure for the benefit of others, though to do them justice, they are very feeling and very liberal with their money."