They said nothing about it, for a time; but the next day little Ben, who was very fond of telling tales, came out with the story, so far as Tim was concerned. “Mother,” said he, “didn’t you tell Tim not to pick any more roses?” “Yes, I did,” said the mother. “Well, he did pick one yesterday.” “I didn’t!” said Tim. “I say you did!” said little Ben. “I say I didn’t!” said Tim. “Oh, mother, he did, for I seed him pick it: it was a beautiful red rose; and when he’d picked it, he smelt of it; and then he pulled it all to pieces!” Here Tim began to cry. “Well,” said he, “you picked one too!” “Oh-o-o-o-o!” said Ben. “I say you did pick a rose; you picked one first, and if you hadn’t picked one I shouldn’t have picked one, and so there!” Here Ben began to snivel. “I see how it is,” said the mother. “It is too often so, my dear Ben: it is too often so. You remember very well what I tell Tim, but you forget what I tell you. Now I forbade you both to pick the roses; and it seems you were the first to disobey; and in this you were more to blame than Tim, for you led the way to disobedience, and thus, by a bad example, made Tim disobey also. “But, what is worse than all, your love of telling tales induced you to tell of Tim, when you were more to blame yourself. Fie, for shame, Ben! This is all wrong, very wrong. You ought to remember better what I tell you, than what I tell Tim, for you are the oldest; you ought to be more ready to receive blame, than to bring it upon your little brother.” Poor Ben was in tears, and his little heart was very sad, and he could not be comforted till his mother forgave him, and took him to her bosom, and said she hoped he would never do so again. This he promised, and then he brightened up, and the two children went to their play. Now I suppose that Ben was really sorry for his fault, and no doubt his promise not to do so again was very sincere; but when once a child has got a bad habit, it is very hard to get rid of it. It was, therefore, a long time before he could remember what was said to him, better than what was said to Tim. He however mastered this difficulty, and at last, when his mother laid her commands upon him, he was sure to take them to heart, and obey them. Now I recommend it to all blue-eyed, and black-eyed, and gray-eyed children, to think of this little story, and see that they are sure to remember better what their parents tell them, than what they tell any one else. Let them learn the story of Ben and Tim by heart, and heed the lesson it conveys. A Word to Correspondents. We are obliged to defer replying to our numerous Correspondents till the next number, where the reader will find answers to the puzzles, and something more to task his Yankee faculty of _guessing_. BOB O’LINKUM’S SONG TO THE MOWER. THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM. [Illustration: music]