Miss DELWORTH'S Sabbath-school class of young girls were gathered around their teacher, each pair of bright eyes kindling with interest in the lesson. 

Miss Delworth was telling the story of Babylon's grandeur and strength; and even Minerva Talbot forgot that her blue silk ruffles were lying against Hepzibah Riggs's six-cent calico dress, and exclaimed,— 

"How splendid! It sounds just like the Arabian Nights!'" 

But as the, story advanced, and the skillful daring of Cyrus, the Persian, was graphically described, wonder and admiration were at their height. It was Miss Delworth's practice at the close of each lesson to give the class an appropriate passage of Scripture for a text during, the week. 

"Here is your verse, my dear girls," she said. "Try to live up to it each day, and next Sabbath every one of you may be greater than the mighty conqueror I have told you about today." 

Then slowly and earnestly she repeated these words: "He that ruleth his spirit, is greater than he that taketh a city." 

"Miss'Delworth must have meant that for me," said Sue Gray, as she walked slowly home, with no laughter in her hazel eyes, and no saucy dimples playing about her mouth:" Sue was evidently in a thoughtful mood. She was a bright girl, but very impulsive and impatient. A slight provocation would often bring a sharp retort to her lips for which she would be "so sorry" the next moment. 

"I'm going to begin this minute, and keep down the quick, cross words," she said to herself, entering her home, and shutting the front door very hard by way of emphasis. While running up the stairs to her room, she heard Aunt Clara singing in the parlor:— 

"Ask the Saviour to help you, 

Comfort, strengthen, and keep you; 

He is willing to aid you, 

He will carry you through." 

The young girl suddenly remembered that Sue Gray was a very unreliable person, and, kneeling in the curtained alcove of her chamber, prayed:— 

"Dear Jesus, I can't trust myself. Help me to take my city." 

Nothing happened through all the afternoon to test Sue's new purpose. Her small, irrepressible brothers were spending the day at grandmother's, and she was left to read her Sabbath-school book 

in peace. 

Next morning she started for school, filled with firm determination; but everything there went along wonderfully smooth, and at noon she went home really disappointed that she had been given no opportunity for "ruling her spirit." It was late in the afternoon, when she sat copying a composition for the next day. The schoolroom was warm, the air dusty, chalky, and oppressive. 

The unceasing hum of voices and buzzing of flies was drearily monotonous. Outside, a sunny, sweet spring day, echoing with the songs of birds, smiled temptingly; and as the school children bent over their tasks, they thought of the ramble in the fragrant woods and the hunt for shy blossoms that would follow when the lazy old clock should strike "four." 

Sue's composition was nearly completed, and she surveyed its fair, delicately traced pages with a good deal of satisfaction. Giving a sigh of relief, she added a quotation from a favorite poet, and proceeded to sign her name. She did not see Jim Burton coming down the narrow aisle from the third class in arithmetic. 

Poor Jim! A great, overgrown, awkward, blunderings boy, the laughing-stock of the school, at the foot of the lowest classes. As he shuffled toward his seat, his eyes happened to fall on Sue. 

The golden glint of her hair, the blush-rose tint of her ribbons, the. daintiness of her fluted apron and soft gray dress, appealed to some dim sense of beauty in his queer heart, and he continued to stare absently until a sudden trip of his great feet, a sudden jarring against a desk, made him realize that a river of very, very black ink was running over the white composition and dainty apron of Susie Gray. For a second Sue's eyes flashed. She wanted to say, "You horrid, good-for-nothing, careless boy! It's just like you!" with a look that would mean more than the words, but quickly came the thought of her verse:— 

"He that ruleth his spirit, is greater than he that taketh a city." 

Poor, confused Jim, stammering out an awkward apology, was bewildered by a very kind smile, and these pleasant words:— 

"Never mind, Jim; accidents will happen; but please be more thoughtful next time." Jim went home in a daze that afternoon. Sue relinquished the flower expedition, and remained in the schoolroom till teatime, carefully rewriting her work; but the toil was a pleasure, for she had entered her city in triumph.

Orphan's Friend.