A family by the name of Lefevre, lived near the Blue Ridge mountains, many years ago. An Indian, named Tewenissa, frequently called to spend the night, when his journeyings led him past the house of Lefevre. He was always cordially welcomed, and kindly entertained.

One day, when Tewenissa, laden with furs, stopped at the house of his friend, he found no one at home, but an old Negro woman. “Where is my brother?” asked the Indian. “Ah sir,” said the woman, “his little boy Derick, only four years old, the same that you loved to take upon your knee, wandered away into the forest on yesterday, and is lost; and all the neighbors are helping the distressed parents to look for him.”

Tewenissa was grieved when he learned of the sorrow of his friend's family, and the misfortune to his favorite. He sounded the horn, and called in the hunting party; and Then he told Mr. Lefevre that he would find his little boy.

Tewenissa then asked for the shoes and stockings that little Derick had last worn. He next called his faithful dog Oniah, and made him smell them. Taking the house for a centre, he then commenced drawing a circle around it with his stick, making Oniah smell the earth as he went

The circle was not completed before the sagacious dog began to bark. He had discovered the scent, and he commenced to follow the little boy's track, barking as he went. The Indian followed as fast as he could, and so did little Derick's parents, and the rest of the party; but the dog ran so fast that he was soon out of sight.

Half an hour afterwards, they heard Oniah bark again, and soon they saw him returning. He was frisky with joy; so that the Indian knew at once, that he had found the little boy, but whether he was dead or alive could not yet be known. The dog now led the way with Tewenissa following close at his heels, until they came to little Derick lying at the foot of a large tree.

The little boy was alive, but extremely weak and exhausted, so that he could not have lived much longer. Tewenissa took him up in his arms, and carried him to his parents, who were almost overcome with joy. By proper treatment, little Derick was soon as well as ever.

The gratitude of the parents, to the Indian and to his dog, was so great that for a long time they could do nothing but weep, and Tewenissa was almost as much pleased as they were. And the neighbors, when they separated, went to their homes highly delighted with the good Indian, and his wonderful dog.

Some dogs are very fond of playing with little boys, and will take as much pleasure in the game, as any of them. They will run after a ball and bring it back to the one who threw it, and do many other amusing things.

There was a large dog, named Bernard, that belonged to the teacher of a large school of boys in Virginia. Bernard seemed to know as well as any one, when the time approached for play; and when the boys came running out into the yard, he would meet them, ready to take his share in their amusements.

His favorite sport was to take a stick in his mouth and walk towards them, nodding his head at them, as if he was challenging them to catch him and take the stick away. A troop of boys would immediately pursue him, and the game would begin. Bernard would run just fast enough to keep them from catching him. The boys would sometimes surround him, and think they were sure of him; but just as they would grab at him, he would jump between two of them, or dart between their legs, and away he would go. Sometimes they would get near enough to catch at his bushy tail; but he would make a sudden leap and elude them again.

At last, after the chase had been kept up till they were all tired, Bernard would let them have the pleasure of catching him, and taking his stick away; and then they would jump on his back, or do any thing with him that they wished, and he would never hurt them or get angry. Indeed, the boys all considered him one of the best playmates they had.

A lark having made her nest in a wheat-field, the wheat became ripe before the young larks were able to fly. Being afraid that the farmer would cut down his wheat before she had provided another place for her little ones, she directed them, while she was gone to get food for them, to listen to what they might hear the farmer say about beginning his harvest.

The old lark then went out; but; but when she came home again, the little birds ran to her and said, “Oh, mother, take us away from here just as soon as you can; for while you were gone we heard the farmer tell his sons that the wheat was ripe, and that they must go and ask some of his neighbors to come early to-morrow morning and help him to cut it down.”

“If that is what he said, you need not be afraid, my children,” said the old lark. “If the farmer depends upon his neighbors to do his work for him, he will find himself mistaken, and we shall be very safe where we are. So lie down in your nest, and give yourselves no uneasiness.”

The next day, when the old lark was going out, she gave her young ones the same directions. In the evening, when she returned, the little larks told her the neighbors had not come to cut down the wheat; but they begged her to move them immediately; for they said that the farmer had told his sons to go and request his friends and relations to come early the next morning, and assist him.

“We are in no danger yet, my children,” said the old lark; “for as long as he looks to his friends and relations, to do for him what he ought to do for himself, his wheat will go unharvested. So we will make ourselves quiet, and stay in our nest, for we have no cause for anxiety at present.”

The next day the mother-lark again told her young ones to listen to what the farmer might say, and tell her when she came back. In the evenings, when she came home, the little larks told her that the farmer had been there with his sons, but that his friends and relations did not come to assist him. The farmer then told his sons to grind their scythes, and get ready, and that early to-morrow morning, they would begin and harvest the wheat themselves.

“We must now prepare to leave immediately,” said the old lark; “for when a man resolves to do his work himself, and to depend upon nobody else, the work is pretty sure to be done; but as long as he depends on friends or neighbors, he is almost sure to effect nothing.” So the old lark moved the little birds that same evening, into another field; and sure enough, the next morning the farmer and his sons came, and cut down the wheat.

This fable teaches us to do our work ourselves, and not rely on others to do it for us. If we trust to others, they will often disappoint us; and it will also produce habits of laziness and dependence, which will prevent us from ever being prosperous or useful.

Some dogs are so vicious that it is not safe to let them run at large. They are kept chained in the day time, and only turned loose at night for the purpose of guarding their owners' houses and other property, from thieves and robbers. Sometimes they get loose during the day, and do much mischief.

A drayman's horse once escaped from him in a certain city, and commenced to gallop up the street. The drayman man started after him, and called to the people whom he saw, to stop the horse, and help him to catch him again.

A number of persons ran out into the street to head the horse, and with them there went a bull-dog, which is one of the fiercest kinds of dogs. The bull-dog instantly sprang at the horse, and seized him by the upper lip.

This frightened the horse so much, and gave him so much pain, that he became frantic. So he ran along several streets with all his might, the bull-dog hanging to his lip all the time. At length a crowd got in front of the horse, and stopped him; but he was so wild with pain and fear, that he ran through a hardware store, and into a parlor where the family were at tea.

The family were not expecting such a visitor as that. They had not invited a horse to take supper with them, with a bulldog hanging to his lip. But they had not much time to ask questions; for the horse upset their table, and broke their china, and spoiled their supper, before they knew what was the matter.

A number of men now seized the horse, and held him, while others tried to beat off the savage dog. But all their efforts were in vain; for the bull-dog hung on to the horse's lip, with merciless and unyeilding grip. At last one of the company had to take a knife and cut the dog's throat, in order to relieve the horse. It might perhaps have been done by taking a stick, and prizing open the dog's mouth.

If ever you see a horse frantic with fright, you must be very watchful, or he may run over you; for horses in that state, will dash into a house or against a tree, or butt their brains out against a wall, without seeming to know or care what they are doing.

A nobleman once had a beautiful blooded colt, and also a mule-colt. He gave the young horse to his neighbor, Mr. Scamper, while the little mule went to a very poor man, who made his living by cutting wood.

Mr. Scamper was greatly delighted with his fine colt; and Indeed, as he grew up, he became still handsomer. His color was bright bay, with a white star in his forehead, and his hair was fine and smooth, and as glossy as silk.

Mr. Scamper was to train him up for a race-horse; For he was too fine a horse to be put to any useful purpose. So he was kept in a warm stable, and fed with the best of corn and hay, and was duly curried and rubbed, and regularly exercised. Indeed, Mr. Scamper treated him with as much care and tenderness, as he did his own children.

When this fine horse was three years old, Mr. Scamper sent him away to be trained for the race-course. The expense of this, was greater than Mr. Scamper could afford; so he had to take his children from the good school to which they were going, and send them to an inferior because it was cheaper.

The next year the young racer was placed upon the turf. He was beaten the first race; but he came out second. In the next race, he was successful; and Mr. Scamper was almost crazy with joy. Mr. Scamper now gave his whole attention to racing; and at last he became so excited, that he made up a race in which he bet all he was worth on his horse. The race was lost, and Mr. Scamper was broken up and ruined.

The little mule, meanwhile, had grown up also, but through a great deal of hardship. He had to live on what he could find in the lanes and among the bushes; and in winter, he had no stable to shelter in. As soon as he was big enough to ride, two or three of the children would mount him at a time, and beat him along with sticks. But he grew up healthy and strong.

His owner then set him to hauling wood to market, and in this way the mule was very profitable to him. He soon made enough money, to buy a plenty of food for his mule, which thus became fat and greatly improved. After awhile, he was able, out of the earnings of his mule, to buy a horse and cow; and he soon became quite a farmer, and grew rich. So that while Mr. Scamper's present ruined him, because his horse was thought too fine for service, the mule made the wood-cutter's fortune, because he put him to a good use.

It was four thousand and four years before the coming of Christ, or nearly six thousand years ago, when this earth was first inhabited by men.

There are now five varieties or races of men found on the earth. They are distinguished from each other partly by their different colors. There are the White race, the Yellow race, the Red race, the Brown race, and the Black race.

The White people live chiefly in Europe, and they came thence to America. The Yellow and the Brown people, live chiefly in Asia, and the great Islands near Asia. The Black people live in Africa, or came from there. The Red people, called Indians, live in America.

America was not known to White people, until nearly four hundred years ago. A brave man, named Christopher Columbus, was the first to discover it. After sailing, for many months and days, across the dark waters of the ocean, where nobody had ventured before, he came in sight of America on the 11th October, in the year 1492.

When America was discovered, it was grown up in forests. There were no cities, or towns, or houses, such as we have now; and no farms and meadows, and no ships and steamboats on the rivers. The woods were filled with all sorts of wild animals, and the Indians lived chiefly by hunting them with their bows and arrows.

When the White men first came here, the Indians thought that they and their ships, had dropped down from the sky. The supposed that they were superior beings, and were very much afraid of them, and treated them generally with great kindness.

It was not long, however, before the White people began to oppress them; and then there arose war and fighting, in which the Indians behaved very cruelly, but were always vanquished, and a great many of them were destroyed; so that there are very few Indians now, compared with the number that were here when Columbus discovered America.

The rose is sweet, but it is surrounded with thorns; the spring is pleasant, but it is soon past; the rainbow is glorious, but it vanisheth away; life is good, but it is quickly swallowed up in death.

There is a place of rest for the righteous; in that land there is light without any cloud, and flowers that never fade. Myriads of happy souls are there, singing praises to God.

That country is Heaven: it is the country of those that are good; and nothing that is wicked must inhabit there. This earth is pleasant, for it is God's earth, and it is filled with delightful things.

But that country is better: there we shall not grieve any more, nor be sick any more, nor do wrong any more. In that country there are no quarrels; all love one another with dear love.

When our friends die, and are laid in the cold ground, we see them here no more; but there we shall embrace them, and never be parted from them again. There we shall see all the good men whom we read of.

There we shall see Jesus, who is gone before us to that happy Place; there we shall behold the glory of the high God.

Who is this beautiful maiden that approaches, clothed in a robe of green light? She has a garland of flowers on her head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her foot. The snow which covered the fields, and the ice which was on the rivers, melt away when she breathes upon them.

The young lambs frisk about her, and the birds warble to welcome her coming. When they see her, they begin to choose their mates, and to build their nests. Youths and maidens, have ye seen this beautiful virgin? If ye have, tell me who she is, and what is her name.

Who is this that cometh from the south, thinly clad in a light, transparent garment? Her breath is hot and sultry. She seeks the clear streams, the crystal brooks, to bathe her languid limbs. The brooks and rivulets fly from her, and are dried up at her approach. She cools her parched lips with berries, and the grateful acids of fruits. The tanned haymakers welcome her coming; and the sheep-shearer, who clips the fleeces off his flock with his sounding shears.

When she cometh, let me lie under the thick shade of a spreading beech-tree,—let me walk with her in the early morning, when the dew is yet upon the grass,—let me wander with her in the soft twilight, when the shepherd shuts his fold, and the star of the evening appears. Who is she that cometh from the south? Youth and maidens, tell me, if ye know, who she is, and what is her name.

Who is he that cometh with sober pace, stealing upon us unawares? His garments are red with the blood of the grape, and his temples are bound with a sheaf of ripe wheat. His hair is thin, and begins to fall, and the auburn is mixed with mourning gray. He shakes the brown nuts from the tree. He winds the horn, and calls the hunters to their sport. The gun sounds. The trembling partridge and the beautiful pheasant flutter bleeding in the air, and fall dead at the sportsman's feet. Youth and maidens, tell me, if ye know, who he is, and what is his name.

Who is he that cometh from the north, in furs and warm wool? He wraps his cloak close about him. His head is bald; his beard is made of sharp icicles. He loves the blazing fire high piled upon the hearth, and the wine sparkling in the glass. He binds skates to his feet, and skims over the frozen lakes. His breath is piercing and cold, and no little flower dares to peep above the surface of the ground when he is by. whatever he touches, turns to ice. Youth and maidens, do you see him? He is coming upon us, and soon will be here. tell me, if ye know, who he is, and what is his name.

Come, and I will show you what is beautiful. It is a rose fully blown. See how she sits upon her mossy stem, like the queen of all the flowers! Her leaves glow like fire; the air is filled with her sweet odor; she is the delight of every eye.

She is beautiful, but there is a fairer than she. He that made the rose, is more beautiful than the rose: He is all lovely: He is the delight of every heart.

I will show you what is strong. The lion is strong. When he raiseth himself from his lair, when he shaketh his mane, when the voice of hiss roaring is heard, the cattle of the field fly, and the wild beasts of the desert hide themselves, for he is very terrible.

The lion is strong, but He that made the lion is stronger than he. His anger is terrible: He could make us die in a moment, and no one could save us from His hand.

I will show you what is glorious. The sun is glorious. When he shineth in the clear sky, and is seen all over the earth, he is the most glorious object the eye can behold.

The sun is glorious, but He that made the sun is more glorious than he. The eye beholdeth Him not, for His brightness is more dazzling than we could bear. He seeth in all dark places, by night as well as by day, and the light of His countenance is over all His works.

Who is this great name, and what is he called, that my lips may praise him?

This great name is God. He made all things, but He is himself more excellent than they. They are beautiful, but He is beauty; they are strong, but He is strength, they are perfect, but He is perfection.

And God spake all these words, saying:

I. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

II. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or the likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters under the earth:

Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth generations of them that hate me;

And showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me and keep my commandments.

III. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.

IV. Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy.

Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work:

But the seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou nor thy son nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor the stranger that is within thy gates.

For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath-day and hallowed it.

V. Honor thy father and mother; that thy days may be long upon the had which the Lord thy God giveth thee.

VI. Thou shalt not kill.

VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery.

VIII. Thou shalt not steal

IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

X. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house; thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbor's.

And all the people saw the thunderings and the lightnings, and the noise of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking.

There was once an Eastern traveller, who always said that what God allowed to be done, was all for the best.

One day, he was wandering through a barren country, and as night approached, he found himself very weary and hungry. The clouds, too, were growing black, as if a storm was coming. At last, he saw a village and rode up to it, and asked for shelter and lodging for the night. But the men all refused, and drove him away; and he was obliged to go to the woods near by.

The poor traveller thought it was very hard that the people of the village should be so inhospitable to him; but he said God is just, and it is all for the best.

He turned his horse loose, so that he might eat some grass. He then lighted his lamp, and sat down under a tree, and began to read the book of the law. He had not read more than one chapter, when the storm burst upon him, and extinguished his lamp. He was very sorry that he had to stop reading, and to sit there in the dark without any thing to interest him. But he still said that it was all for the best.

After awhile, he stretched himself on the ground, with his faithful dog watching over him, and tried to go to sleep. But he had hardly closed his eyes, when a great wolf came, and killed his dog. “Alas,” he said, “who will henceforth watch over me when I sleep! My trusty dog is gone! But, no doubt, it is all for the best.”

Soon after he had said this, a lion came and devoured his horse. “What am I to do now?” said the poor man. “My lamp is out, and my dog is gone; and now my horse, too, is taken from me. But God knows what is best for us, poor mortals. It is all for the best.”

He passed a sleepless night, and early next morning, went to the village to see if he could buy another horse, that he might pursue his journey. But what was his surprise, when he found that there was not a live person in the whole village! A band of robbers had come during he night, and killed all the people, and plundered their houses.

The traveller raised his voice in thanks to God, for having preserved him from the danger into which he was so near falling. “Now I know truly,” he said, “that men are shortsighted and blind; often considering those things as evils, which God designs for their good. If the people had not been unkind to me, and driven me away from their village, I, too, should have been murdered by the robbers. If the wind had not put out my lamp, they would have found me under the tree, and killed me. And if my dog and my horse had not been taken from me, their noise would have attracted the attention of the robbers, and guided them to me. Blessed be the name of the Lord, all is for the best.”

The good boy loves his parents very dearly. He always minds what they say to him, and tries to please them. If they desire him not to do a thing, he does it not: if they desire him to do a thing, he does it cheerfully.

When they deny him what he wishes for, he does not grumble, or pout out his lips, or look angry: but he thinks, that his parents know what is proper for him better than he does, because they are wiser than he is.

He loves his teachers, and all who tell him what is good. He likes to read, and to write, and to learn something new every day. He hopes that if he shall live to be a man, he shall know a great many things, and be very wise and good.

He is kind to his brothers and sisters, and all his little play-fellows. He never fights them, nor quarrels with them, nor calls them names. When he sees them do wrong, he is sorry, and tries to persuade them to do better.

He does not speak rudely to any body. If he sees any persons who are lame, or crooked, or very old, he does not laugh at them, nor mock them; but he is glad when he can do them any service.

He is kind even to dumb creatures: for he knows that though they cannot speak, they can feel as well as we. Even those animals which he does not think pretty, he takes care not to hurt.

He likes very much to see the birds pick up bits of hay, and moss, and wool, to build their nests with; and he likes to see the hen sitting on her nest, or feeding her young ones; and to see the little birds in their nest, and hear them chirp.

Sometimes he looks about in the bushes, and in the trees, and amongst the strawberry plants, to find nests: but when he has found them, he only peeps at them; he would rather not see the little birds, than frighten them, or do them any harm.

He never takes any thing that does not belong to him, or meddles with it without leave. When he walks in his father's garden, he does not pull flowers, or gather fruit, unless he is told that he may do so.

He never tells a lie. If he has done any mischief, he confesses it, and says he is very sorry, and will try to do so no more.

When he lies down at night, he tries to remember all he has been doing and learning in the day. If he has done wrong, he is sorry, and hopes he shall do so no more; and that God, who is so good, will love and bless him. He loves to pray to God, and to hear and read about Him; and to go with his parents and friends to worship Him.

Every body that knows this good boy loves him, and speaks well of him, and is kind to him; and he is very happy.

And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away, and there was no more sea.

And I, John, saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.

And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was one of one pearl; and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.

And I saw no temple therein; for the Lord God Almighty, and the Lamb, are the temple of it.

And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, To shine it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.

And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day; for there shall be no night there.

And there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination or maketh a lie; but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life.

And behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tempted Jesus, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?

Jesus said unto him, What is written in the law? How readest thou?

And he, answering, said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself.

And Jesus said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.

But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbor?

And Jesus, answering, said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, who stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

And by chance there came down a certain priest that way; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him,

And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again I will repay thee.

Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto him that fell among the thieves?

And he said, He that showed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go; and do thou likewise.

And as they led Jesus away, they laid hold upon Simon, a Cyrenian, coming out of the country, and on him they laid the cross, that he might bear it after Jesus.

And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him.

But Jesus turning unto them, said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children.

And there were also two others, malefactors, led with him to be put to death.

And when they were come to the place which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors; one on the right hand and the other on the left.

Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots.

And the people stood beholding. And the rulers also with them derided him, saying, He saved others; let him save himself, if he be Christ, the chosen of God.

And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him and offering him vinegar,

And saying, If thou be the King of the Jews, save thyself.

And a surperscription was also written over him, in letters of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew, THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.

And one of the malefactors which were hanged, railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us.

But the other answering, rebuked him, saying, Dost thou not fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation?

And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss.

And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.

And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.

And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour.

And the sun was darkened, and the vail of the temple was rent in the midst.

And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit; and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.

Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying certainly this was a righteous man.

Anna Strong was a great boaster. She always wanted a very long lesson, and would say, “Indeed I can learn it all; it is not too hard for me.” But when she went to recite it to her teacher, she very often knew nothing about it.

If any thing was to be done at home, or at school, Anna would always say, “I know how; please let me do it;” even if it was a thing she could not do at all.

One day, her teacher asked some one in the class, to point out some cities on the map, so that all in the class might see them. Anna jumped up, and asked the teacher to let her do it, for that she could do it very accurately.

The teacher gave consent, and Anna went to the map; but she could not find a single city that the teacher asked for,— So the teacher told her she was like the silly pigeon that the fable tells about.

The fable says that when the pigeon first came into the world, the other birds went to her, and offered to teach her how to build a nest. The robin showed her its nest, made of straw and mud; the cat-bird showed one made of sticks and bark; and the sparrow told how it had made its nest of hair and moss.

But the pigeon walked about in a very conceited manner, tossing her head from one side to the other, and said to the birds, “you need not tell me; I know how to build a nest as well as any of you.”

The black-bird, and the dove, then offered their assistance, and told the pigeon how they made their nests. But the pigeon would hardly listen to them, but kept saying, “I know how.”

At last, the birds all went away, and left her; but when the pigeon attempted to build her nest, she found that she knew nothing at all about it. And so she would not have had a nest at all, if men had not taken pity on her, and built her a pigeon-house, and put some hay in it.

When the teacher told her this fable, little Anna said that it is much better to be willing and anxious to learn, than to be boastful, and to pretend to know more than we do.

A little boy who had learned to bark like a dog, was one day walking near a body of woods, when he thought he would amuse himself by barking. So he said, “Bow! wow! wow!”

As soon is he had made these sounds, a voice in the woods said “Bow! wow! wow!” The little boy thought there was a dog in the woods, and so he called out, “Doggy! doggy!” As soon as he had said this he heard a voice in the woods say “Doggy! doggy!”

“Who are you?” said the little boy. “Who are you?” answered the voice in the woods. “I am named Edmund Blair,” said the little boy. “I am named Edmund Blair,” said the voice in the woods.

“What do you mock me for?” asked Edmund. “What do you mock me for?” was the answer which came back to him.

“If I can find you I will whip you,” said Edmund. “If I can find you I will whip you,” was the answer which quickly came back from the woods.

This so frightened Edmund, that he ran home, and told his father that there was a bad boy in the woods, who had threatened to whip him. His father laughed and told him that the bad boy was named Echo.

Edmund's father then explained to him; that when sound goes from us, and strikes a hard body, like a tree, or a wall, or a bank, it comes back to us, just as a ball does, if we throw it against a house-side. When the sound thus returns to us, we hear our own words over again, and this is called echo.

Edmund was no longer frightened after his father told him what it was that answered him, and so he went back, and amused himself a long time, talking to his echo.

And it came to pass after these things, that Aram sat in the door of his tent, about the going down of the sun.

And behold, a man, bowed with age, came from the way of the wilderness, leaning upon a staff.

And Aram arose, and went to meet him, and said unto him, Turn in I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all night, and thou shalt arise early on the morrow, and go thy way.

And the man said, Nay, for I will abide under this tree. But Aram pressed him greatly; so he turned, and they went into the tent; and Aram baked unleavened bread, and they did eat.

And when Aram saw that the man blessed not God, he said unto him, Wherefore dost thou not give thanks, and worship the most High God, Creator of heaven and earth?

And the man answered and said, I do not worship the God thou speakest off, neither do I call upon his name; for I have made me a god which abideth in my house, and provideth me with all things.

And Aram's zeal was kindled against the man; and he arose and fell upon him, and drove him forth, with blows, into the wilderness.

And at midnight, Aram heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Aram, where is the stranger that came unto thy tent?

And Aram answered and said, Lord, he would not worship thee, neither would he call upon thy name; wherefore have I driven him out from before my face, with blows, into the wilderness.

And God said, Have I not borne with him a hundred and ninety and eight years, and nourished him, and clothed him, notwithstanding he hath rebelled against me, and couldst not thou, that art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night?

And Aram said, Let not the anger of the Lord wax hot against his servant; for, lo, I have sinned. And Aram arose, and went forth into the wilderness, and sought diligently for the man, and found him, and brought him to his tent; and he treated him kindly and did set meat before him, and he did eat. And when the morrow came, he sent him away, with gifts for his journey.

A certain man had two sons; and the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living.

Not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance in riotous living.

And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want.

And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine.

And he would fain have filled himself with the husks that the swine did eat; and no man gave unto him.

And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!

I will arise, and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee,

And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.

And he arose and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck, and kissed him.

And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.

But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet:

And bring hither the fatted-calf, and kill it; and let us eat and be merry.

For this my son, was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found. And they began to be merry.

Robinet, a peasant of Lorraine, in France, was hastening home after a hard day's work, with a little basket of provisions in his hand. “What a delicious supper I shall have!” said he to himself. This piece of kid, well stewed down, with my onions sliced, thickened with my meal, and seasoned

“When I was a child of seven years old,” says Dr. Franklin, “my friends, on a holyday, filled my pocket with half-pence.

“I went directly towards a shop where toys for children were sold; and being charmed with the sound of a whistle that I met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for it.

Then I came home, and went whistling over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth.

“This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of my money, and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation. My reflections on the subject gave me more chagrin, than the whistle gave me pleasure.

“This little event, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind: so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, ‘Do not give too much to the whistle;’ and so I saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.

“When I saw any one too ambitious of court-favor, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, ‘This man gives too much for his whistle.’

“When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect: ‘He pays indeed,’ said I, ‘too much for his whistle.’

“If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasures of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth: ‘Poor man!’ said I, ‘you indeed pay too much for your whistle.’

“When I met a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of mind, or of fortune, to mere sensual gratifications: ‘Mistaken man,’ said I, ‘you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle.’

“If I saw one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracted debts, and ended his career in prison: ‘Alas!’ said I, ‘he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.’

“In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind, were brought upon them by the false estimate they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.”

A rich husbandman had two sons, the one exactly a year older than the other. The very day the second was born, he set, in the entrance of his orchard, two young apple-trees of equal size, which he cultivated with the same care, and which grew so equally, that no person could perceive the least difference between them.

Then his children were capable of handling garden tools, he took them, one fine morning in spring, to see these two trees, which he had planted for them, and called after their names, and when they had sufficiently admired their growth, and the number of blossoms that covered them, he said:

“My dear children, I give you these trees; you see they are in good condition. They will thrive as much by your care, as they will decline by your negligence; and their fruit will reward you in proportion to your labor.”

The youngest, named Edmund, was industrious and attentive. He busied himself in clearing his tree of insects that would hurt it; and he propped up its stem, to prevent its taking a wrong bent.

He loosened the earth about it, that the warmth of the sun, and the moisture of the dews, might cherish the roots. His mother had not tended him more carefully in his infancy, than he tended his young apple-tree.

His brother, Moses, did not imitate his example. He spent a great deal of time on a mount that was near, throwing stones at the passengers in the road. He went among all the little dirty country boys in the neighborhood, to box with them; so that he was often seen with broken shins and black eyes, from the kicks and blows he received in his quarrels.

In short, he neglected his tree so far, that he never thought of it, till one day in autumn he by chance saw Edmund's tree so full of apples streaked with purple and gold, that had it not been for the props which supported its branches, the weight of its fruit must have bent it to the ground.

Struck with the sight of so fine a tree, he hastened to his own, hoping to find as large a crop upon it; but, to his great surprise, he saw scarcely any thing, except branches covered with moss, and a few yellow withered leaves.

Full of passion and jealousy, he ran to his father, and said: “Father, what sort of a tree is that which you have given me? It is as dry as a broomstick; and I shall not have ten apples on it. My brother you have used better: bid him at least share his apples with me.”

“Share with you!” said his father; “so the industrious must lose his labor, to feed the idle! Be satisfied with your lot: it is the effect of your negligence; and do not think to accuse me of injustice, when you see your brother's rich crop. Your tree was as fruitful, and in as good order as his; it bore as many blossoms, and grew in the same soil, only it was not fostered with the same care.

“Edmund has kept his tree clear of hurtful insects; but you have suffered them to eat up yours in its blossoms. As I do not choose to let any thing which God had given me, and for which I hold myself accountable to Him, go to ruin, I shall take this tree from you, and call it no more by your name.

“It must pass through your brother's hands, before it can recover itself; and from this moment, both it and the fruit it may bear are his property. You may, if you will, go into my nursery, and look for another, and rear it, to make amends for your fault; but if you neglect it, that too shall be given to your brother, for assisting me in my labor.”

Moses felt the justice of his father's sentence, and the wisdom of his design. He, therefore, went that moment into the nursery, and chose one of the most thriving apple-trees he could find. Edmund assisted him with his advice in rearing it; and Moses embraced every occasion of paying attention to it.

He was now never out of humor with his comrades, and still less with himself; for he applied himself cheerfully to work; and in autumn, he had the pleasure of seeing his tree fully answer his hopes. Thus he had the double advantage, of enriching himself with a splendid crop of fruit, and at the same time of subduing the vicious habits he had contacted. His father was so well pleased with this change, that the following year he divided the produce of a small orchard between him and his brother.

I waited more than two hours, without having an opportunity of crossing the river; during which time the people, who had crossed, carried information to Mansong, the king, that a white man was waiting for a passage, and was coming to see him.

A young man of eighteen or twenty, a student in a university, took a walk one day with a professor, who was commonly called the student's friend, such was his kindness to the young men whom it was his office to instruct. While they were walking together, and the professor was seeking to lead the conversation to grave subjects, they saw a pair of old shoes lying in their path, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who was at work close by, and who had nearly finished his day's task.

The young student turned to the professor, saying, “Let us play the man a trick; we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and watch his perplexity when he cannot find them.” “My dear friend;” answered the professor, “we must never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor. But you are rich, and you may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of this poor man. Put a dollar into each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves.”

The student did so, and then placed himself, with the professor, behind the bushes close by, through which they could easily watch the laborer, and see whatever wonder or joy he might express. The poor man soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path, where he had left his coat and shoes. While he put on the coat, he slipped one foot into one of his shoes; but, feeling something hard, he stooped down and found the dollar. Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his countenance. He gazed upon the dollar, turned it around, and looked again and again; then he looked around him on all sides, but could see no one.

He put the money in his pocket, and then proceeded to put on the other shoe; but how great his surprise when he found the other dollar! His feelings overcame him. He saw that the money was a present, and he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven, and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom this timely bounty from some unknown hand, would save from perishing.

The young man was deeply affected, and tears filled his eyes. “Now,” said the professor, “are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?” “O, dearest sir,” answered the youth, “you have taught me a lesson that I will never forget! I feel now the truth of the words, which I never before understood, ‘It is better to give than to receive.’ We should never approach the poor but with the wish to do them good.”

A great inundation having taken place in the north of Italy, caused by an excessive fall of snow on the Alps, followed by a speedy thaw, the river, Adige carried off a bridge near Verona, except be middle part of it, on which was the house of the toll-gatherer or porter, who, with his family, thus remained imprisoned by the waves, and in momentary danger of destruction.

They were discovered from the banks, stretching forth their hands, screaming and imploring succor, while fragments of the remaining arch continually dropped into the water.

In this danger, a nobleman, who was present, held ont a purse of one hundred sequins, as a reward to any adventurer, who would take a boat and deliver this unhappy family.

But the risk of being borne down by the rapidity of the stream, of being dashed against the fragments of the bridge, or of being crushed by the falling stones, was so great, that not one of the vast numbers of spectators had courage enough to attempt such an enterprise.

A peasant, who was passing along at this juncture, being informed of the proposed reward, immediately jumped into a boat, and by strength of oars gained the middle of the river, and brought his boat under the pile, where the whole family descended into it by means of a rope.

“Courage!” exclaimed he, “now you are safe.” By a still more strenuous effort, and great strength of arm, through Divine Providence, he brought the boat and family safe to shore.

“Brave fellow,” exclaimed the nobleman, handing the purse to him, “here is the promised recompense.”

“I shall never expose my life for money,” replied the peasant. “My labor is sufficient to procure a livelihood for myself, my wife and children; give the purse to this poor family, who have lost all.”

Now upon the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had prepared, and certain others with them.

And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre;

And they entered in, and found not the body of the Lord Jesus.

And it came to pass, as they were much perplexed thereabout, behold, two men stood by them in shining garments:

And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead?

He is not here, but is risen: remember how he he spake unto you when he was yet in Galilee,

Saying, the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.

And they remembered his words,

And returned from the sepulchre, and told all these things unto the eleven, and to all the rest.

It was Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and other women that were with them, who told these things unto the apostles.

And their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not.

Then arose Peter, and ran unto the sepulchre; and stooping down, he beheld the linen clothes laid by themselves, and departed, wondering in himself at that which was come to pass.

And, behold, two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus, which was from Jerusalem about threescore furlongs.

And they talked together of all these things which had happened.

And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them.

But their eyes were holden that they should not know him.

And they drew nigh unto the village whither they went: and he made as though he would have gone further.

But they constrained him, saying, Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And he went in to tarry with them.

And it came to pass, as he sat at meat with them, he took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them.

And their eyes were opened, and they knew him; and he vanished out of their sight.

And they said one to another, Did not our heart burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?

And they rose the same hour, and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven gathered together, and them that were with them,

Saying, The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon.

And they told what things were done on the way, and how he was known of them in breaking of bread.

And as they thus spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst Of them and saith unto them, Peace be unto you.

But they were terrified and affrighted, and supposed they had seen a spirit.

And he said unto them, Why are ye troubled? and why do thoughts arise in your hearts?

Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.

And when he had thus spoken, he showed them his hands and his feet.

And while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he said unto them, Have ye here any meat?

And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of a honeycomb.

And he took it, and did eat before them,

And he led them out as far as Bethany; and he lifted up his hands and blessed them.

And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven.

And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven, as he went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel,

Who also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus who is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye leave seen him go into heaven.

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.

Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God.

Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest Return ye children of men.

For a thousand years in thy sight, are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.

Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up.

In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.

For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled.

Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.

For all our days are passed away in thy wrath; we spend our years as a tale that is told.

The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow: for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath.

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

Return O Lord, how long? and let it repent thee concerning thy servants.

O satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

Make us glad according to the days wherein thou hast afflicted us, and the years wherein we have seen evil.

Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children.

And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.

And the men rose up from thence, and looked toward Sodom: And Abraham went with them to bring them on the way.

And the Lord said, Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin in very grievous;

I will go down now, and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it, which is come unto me; and if not, I will know.

And the men turned their faces from thence, and went toward Sodom: but Abraham stood yet before the Lord.

And Abraham drew near, and said, Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the wicked?

Peradventure there be fifty righteous within the city: wilt thou also destroy and not spare the place for the fifty righteous that are therein?

That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked; and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from thee. Shall not the judge of the earth do right?

And the Lord said, If I find in Sodom fifty righteous within the city, then I will spare all the place for their sakes.

And Abraham answered and said, Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord, who am but dust and ashes:

Peradventure there shall lack five of the fifty righteous: wilt thou destroy all the city for lack of five? And he said, If I find there forty and five, I will not destroy it.

And he spake yet again, and said, Peradventure there shall be forty found there. And he said, I will not do it for forty's sake.

And he said unto him, O let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak: Peradventure there shall thirty be found there. And he said, I will not do it if I find thirty there.

And he said, Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord: Peradventure there shall be twenty found. there. And he said, I will not destroy it for twenty's sake.

And he said, O let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yet but this once. Peradventure ten shall be found there. And he said, I will not destroy it for ten's sake.

And the Lord went his way, as soon as he had left communing with Abraham: And Abraham returned unto his place.

Then Judah came near unto Joseph, and said, Oh, my lord, let thy servant, I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy servant: for thou art even as Pharaoh.

My lord asked his servants, saying, Have ye a father, or a brother?

And we said unto my lord, We have a father, an old man, and a child of his old age, a little one: and his brother is dead, and he alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him.

And thou saidst unto thy servants, Bring him down unto me, that I may set mine eyes upon him.

And we said unto my lord, The lad cannot leave his father: for if he should leave his father, his father would die.

And thou saidst unto thy servants, Except your youngest brother come down with you, ye shall see my face no more.

And it came to pass, when we came up unto thy servant my father, we told him the words of my lord.

And our father said, Go again, buy us a little food.

And we said, We cannot go down: if our youngest brother be with us, then will we go down: for we may not see the man's face except our youngest brother be with us.

And thy servant my father said unto us, Ye know that my wife bare me two sons.

And the one went out from me, and I said, Surely he is torn in pieces; and I saw him not since:

And if ye take this also from me, and mischief befall him, ye shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.

Now, therefore, when I come to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us; seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life;

It shall come to pass, when he seeth that the lad is not with us, that he will die: and thy servants shall bring down the gray hairs of thy servant our father, with sorrow to the grave.

For thy servant became surety for the lad unto my father, saying, If I bring him not unto thee, then I shall bear the blame unto my father forever.

Now, therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of the lad, a bondman to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brethren.

For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with us? lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come on my father.

Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him; and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me. And there stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren.

And he wept aloud: and the Egyptians and the house of Pharoah heard.

And Joseph said unto his brethren, I am Joseph: doth my father yet live? And his brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his presence.

And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come near to me, I pray you: and they came near. And he said, I am Joseph your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt.

Now, therefore, be not grieved nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve life.

For these two years bath the famine been in the land; and yet there are five years in the which there shall be neither earing nor harvest.

And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance.

So now, it was not you that sent me hither, but God: and He hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt.

Haste you, and go up to my father and say unto him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt: come down unto me, tarry not.

And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou and thy children, and thy children's children, and thy flocks, and thy lords, and all that thou hast:

And there will I nourish thee, (for yet there are five years of famine,) lest thou and thy household, and all that thou hast, come to poverty.

And behold your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth that speaketh unto you.

And you shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that you have seen; and ye shall haste, and bring down my father hither.

And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck.

Moreover, he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them; and after that, his brethren talked with him.

And the fame thereof was heard in Pharoah's house, saying, Joseph's brethren are come: and it pleased Pharoah well, and his servants.

And Pharoah said unto Joseph, Say unto thy brethren, This do ye; lade your beasts, and go, get you unto the land of Canaan;

And take your father, and your households, and come unto me; and I will give you the good of the land of Egypt, and ye shall eat the fat of the land.

Now thou art commanded, this do ye: Take your wagons out of the land of Egypt for your little ones, and for your wives, and bring your father, and come.

Also regard not your stuff: for the good of all the land of Egypt is yours.

And the children of Israel did so: and Joseph gave them wagons, according to the commandment of Pharoah, and gave them provision for the way.

And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the land of Canaan unto Jacob their father,

And told him, saying, Joseph is yet alive, and he is governor over all the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he believed them not.

And they fold him all the words of Joseph which he had said unto them: and when he saw the wagons which Joseph had sent to carry him, the spirit of Jacob their father revived.

And Israel said, It is enough: Joseph, my son, is yet alive; I will go down and see him before I die.

Well, Robert, where have you been walking this afternoon? said a tutor to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday.

There was once a little boy by the name of John. He demeaned himself very well, and was generally of a good temper; but he was too fond of his own pleasure, and would sometimes be unkind or uncivil, rather than deny himself an enjoyment, for the sake of doing a favor to another person.

One night when little John sat down to his supper, he asked for the bowl of milk which his kind mother always gave him at that meal. His mother told him he must do without milk that night; for that a poor woman who lived close by, had sent to ask for some milk for her sick child, and she had given it all to her.

John did not behave like a good boy when his mother told him this. He pouted, and looked surly and angry; and he said to his mother he did not like to have his milk given away to other children, and that he would not eat his supper at all.

The good mother was very sorry to see her little son show such unconcern for the comfort of a sick person. But she told him, as he was so unwilling, she would never give his milk away again.

She thought, however, of a plan by which she hoped to lead her little boy to cherish better feelings. So the next morning, she told him, to get his hat and take a walk with her. John was always eager to go with his mother, for he loved her very much. So he got his hat, and ran to open the gate for her, and they were soon on their way.

The first place at which they stopped was the house where the little sick child lived; and when they walked in, John's mother asked the lady how the child was. “Oh madam,” said she, “little Charley is a great deal better this morning, That milk you sent him, acted like a charm! It is the first thing he has eaten for two days. He begged for some, and I did not know where I could get any, except at your house. It was very kind of you to send it to him. As soon as he drank it, he fell asleep, and slept sweetly all night long; and this morning be looks so much better that I feel as if my dear little boy would get well again.”

John's mother told the lady she was very glad to hear that her little boy was so much better, and said she would like to send him some milk every evening; but that she would not be able to give him any more. The poor woman said she was very sorry, but that she hoped Charley might now get along without it.

After they left the house, John's mother did not say any thing to him about the sick boy and the milk. She saw that John was thinking, and she thought it was better to leave him to make his own conclusions.

That night when they sat down to supper again, little John found his bowl of milk by his plate as usual. But he did not seem as if he wanted to eat; and after some hesitation and confusion, he went up to his mother and whispered in her ear, to know if he might do what he pleased with his milk. His mother gave her consent, and John put on his hat, and took his bowl of milk, and went out.

After some time John came in again, his little face glowing with pleasure. “Oh! mother,” he said, “I thought I would make my supper on not-milk to-night, instead of milk; and indeed, mother, not-milk is much the best.” His mother knew very well what her little boy meant. He had carried his bowl of milk to Charley; and when he saw how delighted the poor, sick boy was, he said it gave him a great deal more pleasure to do without the milk for Charley's sake, than to drink it. And so, for a little jest, he told his mother that he had made his supper on not-milk, and that it was a great deal better than milk.

John's mother was highly gratified, when she saw that her little son had learned the luxury of doing good, and had found that it makes a person much happier to be kind than to be selfish.

[The above lines relate to a boy of thirteen years of age, who lost his life in the celebrated battle of the Nile. His father was commander of the Orient, and was killed in the same battle.]

Once there was a gentleman who made a beautiful garden. He laid it out in walks, with nice borders, and he had in it beautiful grass-plats and pools of water.

He then planted in it all kinds of trees and shrubs and flowers, and had vines and fruits of every description. The great oak tree cast its deep shade over the lawn, while the birds built their nests and sung their songs in its branches. The apple-tree was white with blossoms in the spring, and in the autumn it was loaded with fruit.

The vines hung thick with luscious grapes, and oranges, and all kinds of delicious fruits, grew on every side. The air was filled with the fragrance of the flowers. There were the myrtle and the lilac, and other flowering shrubs; and also beautiful roses, and verbenas, and dahlias, and peonies and heart's-ease, and hyacinths, and amaranths, and the sweet little violet, and many other flowers.

It was very delightful to the owner of this garden, to visit it. He would stroll along its pleasant walks, or he would sit in its green shades, and listen to the songs of the birds. He would invite his friends to go with him; and they would pluck the luscious fruits, and admire the beautiful flowers and they all said they had never before seen so beautiful a garden.

But one morning, when the gentleman went to see his garden, he found everything changed. The leaves of the oak tree were withered, and it no longer gave any shade. The other trees, and the shrubs were also casting their leaves, and they seemed to be dying. The roses had dropped to pieces, and all the other flowers were faded and dead. The grass too had dried up, and the vines were naked; and everything looked desolate and dreary.

The gentleman was greatly distressed to see what a change had suddenly taken place in his beautiful garden, and he determined to try to find out the cause. So he spoke to the oak tree, and asked what was the reason that its leaves were withered, and it beauty all gone. The oak replied, “I have concluded to be idle, because I feel that I am of very little use in the garden. I bear no fruit except a little acorn, which is so bitter that even the pigs will scarcely eat it. If I was like the apple-tree, I would be willing to bear fruit forever.”

The gentleman then asked the apple-tree, why it too had put off its leaves, and seemed to be dead. The apple-tree replied that it was a poor unsightly tree, and not tall and spreading like the oak. It produced a few apples once a year, but what of that? It was of no use in the garden, and it was better for it to be dead than alive.

The gentleman then went from tree to tree and from flower to flower, and put to them the same question, and they all gave him the same answer. They were all discontented with their lot Those that bore fruit, wanted to bear flowers; and those that bore flowers, wished to bear fruit. Each said that it was of no advantage to the garden, and it had, therefore, concluded to wither and die.

The good man was deeply afflicted, and walked about with his eyes upon the ground, grieving that his lovely garden should so suddenly have become a waste. At last, in one corner of the garden, he saw a little violet growing where he had planted it, and looking bright and beautiful. It was the only flower that was blooming in the whole garden; but it held its little head as high, and its colors were as beautiful, and its odor as fragrant, as ever.

“How is it, my sweet little flower,” said the gentleman, “that you are bright and happy, while every thing else in the garden is discontented and withered? I planted the others in the best places. I put them in my nicest borders, and along my principle walks; but I placed you in this distant corner, where few would ever see you. Yet they have deserted me, while you are as joyous and beautiful as ever.”

The violet replied, “I know, sir, that you would not have put me in this corner, if you had not wanted me here; and I am well contented to stay where you think it best to place me. I know I am but a little violet, and cannot do much; but I wish to do what little I can, to make your garden beautiful and pleasant to you. So I determined to be the best little violet that I could, and to show myself as bright and as fragrant as possible.”

The gentleman was delighted at the good conduct and sweet temper of the faithful little violet; and so he went back to the oak-tree, and told it how this little flower, planted away off in a lonesome corner, had behaved, and what it had said. The oak became very much ashamed, as indeed it ought to have been, for it was in the most conspicuous place in the garden; and so it promised the gentleman it would immediately leave off its idle and discontented ways.

The other trees, and all the shrubs and flowers, felt greatly ashamed also, when they heard how the little violet had behaved; and they, too, determined to follow its example. So the trees put forth fresh leaves, and the flowering plants put on new bloom, and the grass grew green again; and in a little time the garden was as pleasant and beautiful as ever. And all this was owing to the good example of the little violet.

We must learn from this fable to be contented with our lot, and to do the best we can in it. Let every little child determine to be the best boy or girl that is possible. Persons, too, who are in humble position, should not murmur or repine, but remember that God put them there because he wanted them there. By imitating the example of the little violet, we shall be happy ourselves, and set a good example.

George Cornish, a native of London, went to the East Indies, where he made a fortune. After many years, he returned to London, and immediately went to the house of his only brother. He was there informed that his brother was dead, but that one of his daughters was married, and living near by.

Mr. Cornish went to see his niece, and was affectionately received. He found there another of his nieces, who was also very glad to welcome home her rich, bachelor uncle. But his brother had three daughters when Mr. Cornish went away to India; and he now asked the two sisters what had become of little Amelia, the third sister.

“Indeed, sir,” said the eldest sister, “we do not know what has become of Amelia. We never talk her, and we try to forget her. She has disgraced herself by marrying ,a man beneath her, a drawing-master employed in the family; and it has ended in poverty and wretchedness. Our father rather encouraged the match at first; but he afterwards became hostile. He would do nothing for her, and he made us promise no longer to look upon her as a sister.”

“And did you make such a promise?” asked Mr. Cornish, in a tone of surprise and displeasure. “Poor sufferer,” continued he; “I have made no promise to renounce thee!” So saying, he took up his hat, left the house, and started out immediately to search for the missing sister.

He had a long search before he found her. Mr. Bland, her husband, was poor, and had of late been unfortunate; so that he had been compelled to change his quarters very often. At last Mr. Cornish found where Amelia lived. It was in the third story of a house in a narrow alley. As Mr. Cornish went up the steps, he met two officers coming down; one with a bed upon his shoulders, and the other with a bundle of bed-clothes. A woman with a child in her arms, was following them, and he heard her exclaim, “Oh, it is cruel not to leave me one bed, for myself and my poor children!”

Mr. Cornish advanced to the woman, and looked earnestly At her. At last he said, “Is this Amelia Cornish?” “That was my name,” she said. “I am your uncle George,” he replied; and he sobbed as if his heart would break. The poor woman fainted, and it was some time before she recovered herself. “Oh, uncle,” she exclaimed, “what a situation you see me in!” He replied, “It is a situation, indeed, poor forsaken creature! But you have one friend left!”

Mr. Bland had become so poor, that he had been unable to pay his last rent; and the officers had come to seize property, in order to get the money. Mr. Cornish immediately paid the debt, and made them bring back the bed and clothing. Mr. Bland, himself, had fallen sick of a fever, and was then in a hospital.

Mrs. Bland told her uncle that her husband had always been very kind to her. He was industrious and did his best to take care of his family; but he could not always get employment. It made her feel heart-broken when her father and her sisters abandoned her; and when her husband was taken sick, and her present troubles came upon her, she felt as if Heaven had abandoned her too. “But in this hour of our extremest distress, you have been sent for our comfort,” she said. “Thank God!” said Mr. Cornish; “and your comfort I will be. Dry up your tears—better days are coming!”

As it was too late to move his niece that day, Mr. Cornish sent them up an abundant supply of nice food, to last them till the next. He then went to the hospital to see Mr. Bland, and told him to cheer up, and that his family should be taken care of. The next day he rented a nice house, handsomely furnished. He then took his niece, with her three children, to a clothing establishment, and made her get a supply of clothing for the whole family, including her husband. He then conducted her to the house he had rented, and told her she was at home. “All I ask,” said he, “is that you will let me come to see you now and then.”

The poor lady could only express her thanks by a flood of tears. She threw herself at her uncle's feet, but he raised her up, and putting in her hands a purse of gold, left the house. He hastened to the hospital, where he found Mr. Bland almost well. The doctor said that Mr. Cornish's visit the night before, had cured him. That very day, they carried him home in a sedan chair, and under his wife's nursing he was soon entirely restored.

Mr. Cornish remained a steady friend to the family of his Niece. He obtained a good situation for Mr. Bland, and never wearied of his kindness to Mrs. Bland and the children. He went to see his other nieces sometimes, but he never could think so well of them again, after he found how they had treated their younger sister.