Hatty’s short reading in the Bible that evening was about the crucifixion of our Saviour, and as she prepared to lie down, she wondered how he could have borne such suffering without one murmur. Hatty had a perfect horror of pain. Her skin was thin and delicate, and even the grasp of a rough hand on her arm was sure to leave a bruise. Her usually pleasant face was clouded over by a scratch or a pin-prick, and her tears often fell fast for a wound that many children would have met with a smile. Hatty was naturally very sensitive to pain, and that was not her fault; but she had never yet begun to try to bear it patiently, as a part of her christian duty. As she lay down that night, she resolved to be more patient under, little trials, and to make light of little pains. Hatty’s new resolution was soon put to the test. She had hardly put her head on the pillow, before she became conscious that her couch was anything but a bed of roses. Meg had consoled herself for going to sleep in a strange room by herself, by munching hard crackers until that pleasure was lost in the new joy of the dreams of childhood. The bed was strewn with the crumbs, and through her thin night-dress Hatty could feel them in all directions. After brushing them this way and that way, Hatty jumped out of bed with an angry bound, and proceeded to light the candle and rectify the mischief in a systematic manner. “The troublesome little thing!” exclaimed Hatty, as she saw a half-eaten cracker lying in Meg’s loosened grasp. “She ought to be punished for it!” At that moment Hatty thought of her resolution to be patient under trifling discomforts, and a feeling of mortification came over her. Very quietly she brushed away the offending crumbs, gently she removed the half-eaten cracker, and then she knelt to ask forgiveness for this new exhibition of her hasty temper, ere she again lay down to rest. Hatty was soon in a sweet sleep; but shortly after midnight she was awakened by a feeling very much as if a broom-handle were thrust against her, while at the same time Meg exclaimed, “Do move, Hatty, you crowd so. I wish you would’nt come on my side of the bed.” Meg was a thin bony little creature, and the children all dreaded a punch with her sharp elbows almost as much as one of her scientific pinches. Hatty’s tender side actually ached, but she made an effort to say, gently, “Meg, you must be dreaming; wake up!” “I am not asleep at all!” said Meg, pettishly. “I wish you would move!”