IN a small town in one of our Eastern States, occurred, quite a number of years ago, the incident I am about to relate. It is a true story; and we think carries with it a moral which many of our boys and girls of today may well apply to themselves. A singing-school had been in progress for some time, and a concert was to be held to close the exercises.

The professor who had conducted the school was a fine musician, and had for an assistant a young lady who was an accomplished organist and also a good singer. The scholars composing the school were to take part in the concert exercises, and their relatives and friends assembled to see what progress had been made. Among those who had been learning to sing was a girl, about sixteen years of age, whom we will call Jennie, who especially admired Miss Smith, the teacher's assistant. During the evenings they had been together, she became somewhat acquainted with her. While Jennie was enjoying the singing-school and the social intercourse of young friends, her patient, careworn mother had stayed at home, and toiled far beyond her strength for the comfort of her family. She was an earnest, Christian woman, and cared less for the outward show of the body, than for the inward adorning of the mind.

On this occasion, she came with others to listen to the music, having a feeling of pride in the musical talent of the dear daughter for whom she had toiled since earliest infancy. At this time, unlike more fashionable ladies, she wore a plain hood, while all others wore hats or other head dresses of a later style.

The singers had already arrived, and had taken positions on the rostrum near the organ, waiting the hour of commencement. Meanwhile the audience were coming in; and as Miss Smith and our young friend were chatting together, she turned, and suddenly said, "Isn't that a funny looking old woman sitting over there with a hood on?"  Alas, for Jennie! Instead of feeling proud of the dear mother, and owning their relationship at once as a rebuke to her newly formed acquaintance, she joined in the witticisms of her friend, and like another Peter, acted, if she did not say, "I know not the man."  But the voice of conscience long reproved her for her sin; and in after years, by kind and loving words and deeds she strove to make amends for the shameful denial of that evening.

Dear young friends, are you ashamed of your quiet, godly, old-fashioned mother? Would you rather not be seen with your gray-haired, homespun father? If so, you are unworthy of such good parents. You should thank God every day for giving them to you, and on every occasion possible you should let them know that you feel proud of them. Both have toiled long and hard for you.

They have cared for you in sickness and in health, when other friends would have forsaken you. They have prayed for you, and loved you—how much you may never know.  Their hands have grown hard and rough toiling for you. Their hearts have ached when you did wrong, and they feared their hopes for you would be disappointed. They have denied themselves many comforts that they might give you superior advantages. Now will you, can you, be ashamed of them because they are old-fashioned perhaps, or have not had the privileges granted you? Or, will you stand by them, love and honor them—yes; be proud of them, as you are of no other friends on earth?  It is a sign of the times in which we are living that persons will be proud, disobedient to parents, unthankful, and unholy. Perhaps all who read this may not be of that class that are disobedient; but an examination may show that we are not as thankful as we should be.  Let us, then, show that love for our parents that we will wish we had when the time shall come to us, as it has to many, that we shall look on the patient face with the tender eyes closed forever, and see the hands folded to toil for us no more. May we have no sad memories to make more bitter the loss of father or mother. Besides this, a record is kept in heaven, and we shall soon have to meet all these things. May God help us never to be ashamed of our parents!