I HAVE a little friend whom we call "Bimeby," because he always says "By-and-by" when he is asked to do anything. He will get up by-and-by; he will learn his lesson by-and-by; he will bring in wood for his mother, or go to the store for her groceries, by-and-by. A great many troubles come to him and to his friends from this bad habit of putting off his duties, and not long ago it was the cause of a serious misfortune. 

One morning, when the ground was covered with ice, little "Bimeby's" mother said,— 

"Fred, I want you to sprinkle some ashes on that icy place by the back door." 

"All right," said Fred, "I'll do it by-and-by." 

"But you must do it right off," said Mrs. Harris; "somebody will fall there, if it is neglected." 

"Yes, mother," and "Bimeby" started off to get his sled that he had lent to the boy next door, thinking that five minutes' delay could make no difference. 

Just about this time, Mamie, Fred's four-year-old sister, begged to go out and play in the yard. 

"It is so shiny out," she said, "I guess it's most like summer. And mebbe I shall find a flower peeping up somewhere." 

So her mamma put on her little rubber boots, her warm cloak and hood and mittens, and let her go out with her tiny sled. Poor Mamie! She clambered down the steps, laughing and cooing to herself, and talking about the "flowers." But all at once she uttered a loud cry of fright and pain. 

She had slipped upon "Bimeby's" ice, and broken her arm. 

Then came the surgeon to torture the soft, fair arm, and long days of weariness followed, days of great care and anxiety for the household, and all because one careless boy put off obeying his mother for a few minutes.