1. FANNY was a bright little girl, and could learn very fast. Her mother had taken great pains to teach her at home, and she could read well in SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER TWO, before she was seven years of age. 
  2. Fanny's mother bought twenty-six cards, which had the letters of the alphabet printed on them, and told her she must take them, and teach her little brother Frank these letters, so that he could go to school, and learn to read too.
  3. The mother spread the cards on the floor, and told Fanny would tell him the name of the letter on each card. After she had told him the names of the letters two or three times, she thought he ought to know them all ; but he could only remember the names of O and S.
  4. "Why, Frank," said she, "you are a stupid boy!  Your dog, Dixie, would learn to say the letters sooner than you, if he only had some one to show him what they are."
  5. As soon as Dixie heard his name spoken, he came across the side of Fanny. Frank picked up the card that had the letter A on it, and said, "Now, Miss Teacher, you may try your skill on your new pupil."
  6. Fanny put one hand on the dog's neck, and them pointing to the letter on the card, said, "Dixie, what's that?"  But the dog looked up in her face, as though he did not understand what she meant.
  7. Again she pointed to the letter, and said, "Now, Dixie, hold up your head, and say, A." But he could only say, bow !  This made the children laugh to hear the dog try to say, A. After a while, Frank said, "There is no such letter as bow; so, the dog is not as smart as you take him to be.  He may bark; but he can not talk." 
  8. When the mother heard Frank make this remark, she said, "True, dogs and other brutes may be taught to do many things; but they can never learn to talk. The gift of speech has been bestowed only on human beings ; and that is one reason why they are superior to all other living creatures."

  1. A FARMER once went to marked, and sold his corn for a large sum of money. He then mounted his house, and set out early, in order to reach home before night. 
  2. At noon, he stopped at tavern to feed his house, and get dinner.  When he was about to start on his journey again, the hostler, as he led out the house, said, "Sir, the shoe on the left fore foot has lost a nail." 
  3. Never mind that," answered the farmer ; "I am in too great haste to attend to it now. The shoe will hold fast cnough for the twenty miles that I have yet to travel."  So saying, he set out on his journey. 
  4. In the afternoon, the farmer stopped again to feed his house ; and, as he was sitting in the tavern, the stable-boy came in, and said, "Sir, your house has lost a nail out of his left front shoe.  Shall I take him to the blacksmith's, and have one put in'?"
  5. "Not now," answered the farmer; " I have only eight miles further to go, and the house will travel well enough that distance. I have no time to lose."
  6. Away the farmer rode; but he had not gone far, before the shoe was lose, and the horse began to limp. He had not limped long, before he began to stumble; and soon he fell, and broke one of his legs.
  7. Then the farmer was obliged to leave the horse lying in the road, and make his way home, on foot, as well as he could. He lost his way in the woods, and did not get home till late at night.  "All my ill- luck," said the farmer to himself,  " comes from neglect of a horse ? shoe nail."
  8. For want of a nail the shoe was lost;
    For want of a shoe the horse was lost;
    For want of the horse the man got lost; 
    And all, for want of a horse - shoe nail.

  1. ONE very rainy day, when I could not go out into the fields, I read an account of many great men called heroes, who lived in England, and other countries, many years ago. 
  2. My head was full of battles and sieges, of storming castles and taking cities, so that, at night, while eating my supper, I began to tell my father what I had been reading, and what I thought about the matter.
  3. " Father ," said I, after we had been talking some time, "I should like to be a great man : I should like to be a hero, and lead an army to battle."
  4. My father looked at me, and smiled.  I suppose he thought I did not look much like suppose he thought I did not look much like a hero.  " Can you not be a great man," said he, " without leading an army to ba'ttle?"
  5. " No`; not a hero, father," said I. " I could not be a hero, I suppose, unless I had shown great courage, and had been in many battles."
  6. "What do you mean by a hero?" asked my father. Here I felt a little puzzled.
  7. "A hero," said I, at last, " is a great man, one who has done great deeds, and is very bold, and fights well in battle.  Why, father, I am sure you know what is meant by a hero." 
  8. " Well, then, as to my views of the subject," said my father, " a man may be a hero, and you may be one, without ever having been on a battle ? field.  It is not necessary that a man should go to war, in order to prove himself a hero.  
  9. " I have read of many who have done great deeds, and who were very bold, and did not mind pain, if they had to suffer in a good cause.  These, I think, were heroes, indeed, thought they never went to battle. 
  10. " The heroes I like to read about, wished to save men's lives, rather than to destroy them, and to bring peace upon the earth, instead of a sword.
  11. "Some of these heroes had to endure great hardships, and even give up their lives for the truth. Some, like the great and good Howard, went from one country to another, and visited the sick in their fellow ? men.
  12. "These are the heroes, my son, whose good deeds should cause our hearts to glow with a desire to imitate their noble conduct."
  13. My father then tried to explain to me, that the true hero is one who is full of courage for the truth, and who tries to do good to all men.
  14. Here, then was a lesson which I leaned when I was not more than twelve years of age. And I never hear any one spoken of, as a great man , without saying to myself, " I wonder whether he would be one of my father's heroes." 

  1. FARMER FELTON, who kept a great many fowls, told Amy, his daughter, that she must take care of all the little chickens, ducks, and goslings; and that he would make a nice yard, and a house for them to sleep in, so that the foxes could not catch them.
  2. He built a high fence around the yard, so that they could not get out, unless the door was opened.  There was some water in the yard for them to drink, and for the geese and ducks to swim in.
  3. There were little places for the ducks and geese to sleep in, and poles were put across the small house in the yard, for the hens and turkeys to roost, or sleep on; for hens, turkeys, doves, robins, and almost all birds, like to stand on something that is high in the air, when they sleep, so that foxes and other creatures can not catch them.
  4. They are not afraid of falling off; for they hold on tight to the pole with their feet and toes. The door of this yard was opened, toward night, for the fowls to go out.  The man who kept them, knew that they would all want to come back and sleep at home, and so would all want to come back and sleep at home, and so would not wish to go off far, if he let them out just before night. 
  5. Once, when they were let out, they went along at the bottom of a hill, on the top of which was a great pile of stones.  The old gander went first, and the old rooster followed.  He stopped to crow every few minutes, very loud.
  6. The old turkey came strutting along after the rooster.  He felt very proud, and help his head up straight, and took long steps, and spread out his tail, so that it looked as large around as a boy's hoop.  And when he saw the old gender and the rooster going before him, be said, gobble!  gobble!  gobble!  to make them look at him.
  7. By and by, the hens cackled, and the geese stretched their long necks, and hissed; and they all looked as if they were frightened; for, a great stone, as large as a man's hat, rolled down, the hill right among them.
  8. They did not know what should have made a stone roll down, and they suspected that somebody was up on the hill trying to kill them. But they could not see any one, and soon got over being frightened.
  9. Then another stone rolled down, and went close to the old gander, so that he had to jump to get out of the way.  He did not like to be driven about so by a stone.  So he ran after it, as it rolled along, and put his neck out straight, and hissed at it.
  10. Then another stone rolled down, and several others after it, till the fowls saw that the stones did not hurt them, and they began to think that it was nothing strange stones to roll down hill. 
  11. Then something red came rolling down.  They all thought it was a stone; but it rolled into the midst of them, and then they saw it was a fox. And, before they could get away, the fox caught a goose by the neck, and ran off with it to his den. 
  12. This fox that wanted to catch a goose, was very cunning.  He did not run among the fowls, at first; for, he knew that they would get out of his way, if he did; or, perhaps, the gander and the rooster would strike him with their sharp bills, or with their wings, and hurt him.  So he rolled down stones till they were used to seeing them roll down, and then rolled down himself.
  13. It is in this way that wicked people try to make others wicked.  They first get them to do a very little things which they know to be wrong, and then get them to do things which are very wicked.  They try to make them wicked a little at a time, and, at last, make them so wicked that they have to go to prison, or be hung upon the gallows.
  14. There was a little boy whose mother was very careful to keep him from being with bad boys.  His name was Royal.  He was a good boy, and always did what his mother told him.  He was afraid to tell a lie; for he knew that it was wicked.
  15. His mother had told him not to go into shops or stores, unless she sent him; and when he was sent to buy eggs, or any thing else, he always came back as soon as he could.  The reason why his mother told him to do so, was, that bad boys, who speak bad words, are sometimes standing idle in stores, and she did not wish Royal to be with them. 
  16. Once, when Royal was sent on an errand for his mother, just as he was going by a store, he met Royal; because he wicked not tell lies, and would not speak wicked words.  So he had tried, a great many times, to get Royal to do things that were wrong; but never could get him to do them; because his mother used to tell him that he must not.
  17. When Robert met Royal, he told him that if he would speak a bad word, he would give him a little Picture Book. Royal did not think long about it; because he wanted the book very much.  He did not think it wrong to say the word once, when he had a good reason for saying it, and when he could get a book which might teach him something he did not know before. 
  18. He spoke the bad word, and went into the store with Robert, to get the book, without his mother's leave, and then went home.  But, before he got home, he began to feel bad about what he had said, and wished he had not done it.  He told his mother what the bad word was; for, she said he must tell her.
  19. He cried, and felt worse than he ever felt before; for he had been, he thought, very wicked.  His mother would not let him keep the book; but sent him back to the store with it, and told him to say that he had earned it by saying a bad word, and to tell the store-keeper to give the book to naughty Robert.

  1. DID you ever see a little stream of water which had broken through a bank of soft earth'?  At first, perhaps, it had but a narrow passage, and ran in quite a small stream.
  2. But, as it continued to run, it washed a way more and more of the earth, and gathered greater and greater force, until it made for itself a wide passage, and flowed in a full and rapid stream.
  3. So, the proverb says, " The beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water." * It may begin in a very small way, with some petty dispute or harsh word; but it does not end here.  It goes in increasing, until it often ends in a quarrel.
  4. It was in this way that John and George Parks began to dispute and wrangle about a saw, which they had been using. It began thus:
  5. George. John, I wish you would put my saw back into its place, when you have done using it.  You know I do not like to have it left about, in this way, where it can not be found when one wants it.
  6. John.  Well, I wish you would wait till I have had your saw, before you begin talking to me about it, in this way.  I have not touched your saw. 
  7. George.  Why, John, you know you had it yesterday afternoon; I lent it to you myself. 
  8. John.  Well, suppose I did have it. I afterwards put it away; and, what is more, you used it yourself, this morning.
  9. George.  I did not use it, this morning.  I have not had it since you borrowed it; and, if you had put it away, it would have been in its proper place.
  10. John.  I tell you I did put it away; and you had it yourself, sawing that board for a hencoop, this morning.  I saw you with my own eyes.  
  11. George.  You did not see me, this morning, with your own eyes; nor did any body else see me; for, it was yesterday morning when I sawed that board.  I shall not be in a hurry to lend you that saw again. 
  12. John.  Keep your old saw!  Who wants it?  I can get a better one, if I wish.
  13. Now. it is plain that both of these boys were to blame.  I do not know which was in the right, about using the saw last; but they were both very much to blame in quarreling about it. 
  14. If John had replied to his brother in a kind tone of voice, and said, " Yes, George, I know you do not like to have your saw left out, and I think I put it away,"  George would have replied in a similar manner.
  15.  If George had said, when his brother told him that he had used the saw himself that morning, " I think it was yesterday morning, brother; but no matter; we will not dispute about it," there would been no strife between them.  It is always best to End STRIFE AT THE BEGINNING.

  1. JULIA, and another pleasant little girl of the same age, used to go to school together.  On their way they often met a larger girl, who would insult and abuse them.  She would push them off the side-walk, and throw snowballs in their faces.
  2. There seemed to be no cause for this unkind treatment, except that this girl was naughty, and appeared to take pleasure in abusing others, even though they had never done her any harm.
  3. These little girls bore this cruel treatment, without complaint, for a long time.  At length, Julia felt that she could bear it no longer, and went and told her mother.
  4. Her mother was very sorry to hear that any girl would be so unkind as to insult and injure other children, when they were going quietly to school.  After thinking of the matter a while, she told Julia how she could conquer that bad girl, and make her kind and friendly. 
  5. Julia was pleased to hear her mother say that she had a plan, by which she could conquer this bad girl, and asked her to tell what is was; "for," said she, "I mean to seek revenge!"
  6. Her mother said: "Before you go to school tomorrow, select the largest and best apple you can find in the cellar, and put it into your pocket.  The next time you meet that bad girl, if she tries to injure you, give her the apple.
  7. "Why, mother!" said Julia, in surprise.  "How can I give an apple to such a wicked girl, when she has abused me so many times!" But, after her mother had given her some reasons for so doing, she concluded to follow the advice.
  8. The next day, as Julia and her friend were going to school, they met the bad girl again. No sooner did she see them, than she seized a piece of hard snow, and threw it into Julia's face, hurting her very badly.
  9. As soon as she could recover from the shock, her face smarting with pain, she stepped up to the wicked girl, and held out to her the large, mellow apple, at the same time, saying, "Here is a nice apple for you!" 
  10. The girl was astonished.  But Julia said again, with a mild tone of voice, " I will give you this apple."  The girl took the apple, and said, " I will throw no more snowballs at you, nor at that other girl."
  11. Was not that a noble victory'?  The bad girl was completely conquered by this return of good for evil.  It was, indeed, a double turn of good for evil.  It was, indeed, a double conquest.  Julia not only conquered the girl who had been her enemy, but she had conquered herself.  She, at first, wanted to do something to punish the wicked girl.  But she gained such a victory over her desire to be revenged, that she met her with a gift of love.  

  1. ELLEN RODMAN had a number of canary birds.  They were so tame that she would open the door of the cage, and allow them to fly around the room, wherever they pleased.
  2. One day, Ellen's brother, Casper, brought home a little tin wagon, which he bought at the toy shop.  " O," said Ellen, " I wonder if my little canaries could not be taught to draw this wagon around the room!"
  3. " I think they might," said Casper, " if you could make a harness small enough to fit them."
  4. Ellen found a small piece of narrow pink ribbon, and made a neck-band.  She then took a spool of thread, and cut off several short pieces, which served for straps and traces.  When all was finished, Casper caught one of the birds, and Ellen put on the harness, and fastened it to the tiny wagon.
  5. At first, the bird tried to fry; but the wagon was so heavy, it could not weigh over a quarter of a pound.  But soon it began to hop along, and draw the wagon after it, all around the room.
  6. Ellen and Casper were highly pleased to see a canary bird draw the little wagon; but all the rest of the birds flew around the room, perched on the chairs, and looked as though they were very much frightened.
  7. After amusing themselves for a short time, Ellen released the bird, when it flew into its cage.  In this way, she soon taught all the birds to draw the little wagon, whenever she wished them to do so.
  8. I will now tell you a story about a girl, named Caroline.  She had a sweet little canary bird, that sang from morning till night.
  9. He was a beautiful creature, yellow as gold, with a black head.  Caroline gave him seeds and groundsel to eat, and sometimes a small piece of sugar.  She also gave him fresh water to drink every day.
  10. But, one day, the bird became dull; and the next morning, when Caroline brought him some water, he lay dead at the bottom of his cage.
  11. She burst into tears at the loss of her bird, and wept for a long time.  Her mother, to comfort her, went and bought another bird which was more beautiful than the first, and just as lovely in his song, and put him in the cage.
  12. But Caroline wept still more when she saw this new bird.  Her mother was surprised, and said, " My dear child, why are you still weeping and sorrowful?  Your tears will not call the dead bird to life; and here is another bird, even better than the one you have lost."
  13. But Caroline said, "O mother! I was not kind to the poor, dead bird as I ought to have been, and did not do all for him that I should have done."
  14.  " My dear Caroline," said her mother, "you have always waited on him very carefully."
  15. "Oh, no, mother, not always!" replied the child; "only just before he died, I did not carry him a lump of sugar you gave me for him.  I ate it myself."  Thus spake the girl with a sorrowful heart.
  16. Now, if little Caroline wept and mourned, when she thought how she had abused her poor bird, how children feet, when their parents die, to think how unkind they have been to them!

  1. "WELL, if you must have a story," said Mr. Villars to his children, who came flocking into the dining-room, " if you must have a story, you shall; so, listen to me.  Sit still, all of you, and do not speak one word till I have done.  Now, then, I am going to begin.
  2. " It was at Christmas, when the snow lay on the ground, and the wintery wind howled through the elm trees, that a party of boys and girls were at play together, at the house of Mr. Allen.
  3. " When they had played at every thing they could think of, and all became weary they formed a circle round the fire, and sat down to eat some apples, and to crack some nuts.
  4. " After they had finished their feast, and thrown the shells into the embers, �eOh!' said one of the little boys, �esee how blue these shells make the fire burn! and, besides, there is something that looks like little girls and boys at play.'
  5. " �e But I can see a ship,' said one; �e there she is, with her hull, and masts, and sails, just ready to float upon the billows.  I never saw a better ship; surely, you must all see it.  That part is the bow, and the other end is the stern.  Look at it !'
  6. " Here every one tried to make out the form of the ship; but none of them succeeded.  �e I can not see a ship; said one of them; �e but I can see a camel, as plainly as if it were a real one. 
  7. " �e There is his long neck, and there are the two humps on his back, just as if he were jogging on with his Arab master, and load of goods, across the sandy desert.  It is a capital camel!'
  8. " Now, capital as the camel was, no one could make it out, but the one who had spoken about it.  Every one tried; but all tried in vain.
  9. " At last, said a little girl, named Amelia, �e Though I can not see a camel, I can see a shepherd with a flock of sheep around him.  There is the crook in his hand, and there are the sheep, some standing up, and some lying down, and here and there are the little lambs too.  Oh how fine!'
  10. "Again, all the rest of them opened their eyes wide, and bent down toward the fire, to see the shepherd, and the sheep, and the lambs; but no one could make them out.
  11. " A fair- haired girl, with a meek, sweet looking countenance, at last, said that what Amelia called a shepherd, looked much more like an angel. 
  12. "She could make out his wings, and something like a harp in his hand, and �ethen,' said she, �eyou can all see those bright, golden rays around his head.'  Plain as all this appeared to be, no other eye but her own could discern it.
  13. "Just at this moment, as they had all tried to show each other the different objects in the fire, Mr. Allen came into the room to see that the children were all comfortable and happy.
  14. " Though his cheek was ruddy, and his step fairs were white age; and many were the lessons of wisdom which he had learned, during a long and useful life.
  15. " As soon as he entered the room, the joyful group were eager to tell him what they had seen, or rather fancied they had seen, in the fire, and asked him how it was that they could not all see the same things there.
  16. "Mr. Allen willingly undertook to explain to them what they had not been able to understand.  With this, he put before their eyes glasses of different colors, and told them to look at the fire through them.  �eThe fire is as blue as my jacket,' cried one.  �e Blue! said another; �e why, it is as green as grass.'
  17. "How can you say that!' observed a third, �e when it is as yellow as gold?'  �e Yellow!' cried a fourth,  �eit is a very comical kind of yellow, then;  for the fire looks, through my glass, as red as blood.'
  18. " My dear children," said Mr. Allen, " the fire appears to you of different colors, because you have looked at it through different colored glasses; and the reason why you have seen different forms in the fire, is, because you have looked at it with different thoughts and feelings.
  19. " It is no real wonder that one who reads of sailors, and who longs to sail over the billowy deep, it is no great wonder that he should find out a form in the fire, resembling what is commonly in his mind.
  20. " It is just the same with another who delights to read or hear of sandy deserts, and merchants, and camels; his fancy helps him to form what is pleasant to him.  In this manner, all of you have been influenced, in some measure, by those things which are most pleasant to your minds.
  21. " For this reason, we should delight in that which is good and useful.  In this way, we shall not only have pleasant ideas or images in our own minds, but they will influence us to show other persons the way to the same pleasures which we have found ourselves."  

  1. A FEW years ago, as several boys were engaged in playing ball, in front of the schoolhouse, one of them struck the ball with his bat, and sent it with such force against a pane of glass, as to break it.
  2. Soon the school bell rang.  The boys all left their sport, and returned to their studies.  The teacher kindly asked who broke the pane of glass; but no one replied.  The boy who broke the glass, would not confess, and his playmates would not expose him.
  3. The lady who had charge of the school, felt very sad to think her pupils tried to conceal the matter.  She did not care for the value of the pane of glass, neither did she care on her own account; but she loved her pupils, and desired that they would so act, that every body could have confidence in them.
  4. She desired that all her pupils, in after life, should be respected and happy.  This she knew they could not be, if now they were not truthful, and tried to conceal their faults.  She felt very sorry; but it was wholly on account of her pupils.
  5. The next day, the teacher addressed the whole school.  She did not refer to the broken pane of glass; but she dwelt on the conduct of boys in their sports, and the principle of rectitude and kindness which ought, at all times, to govern their sports, and the principle of rectitude and kindness which ought, at all times, to govern their conduct.
  6. She spoke of the importance of doing, in every case, as they would like to be done by; and that they ought to do right from principle, and not because they were watched. She said they might do many things that were wrong, which might never be known by their parents, teachers, or playmates. But there is One who sees and knows all that we think or do.
  7. She told them that punishment was sure to follow crime, and that little faults would always lead us to larger ones. She then related an occurrence which took place many years ago. "A boy had been told by his mother, that it was wrong to rob birds' nests, and that he must never do it. But he did not heed her command.
  8. "One day, he saw a bird's nest on a high branch of a tree, where he could not reach it. So he took a long ladder, placed it against a large limb, and then climbed it against a large limb, and then climbed up to the nest. But, just as he reached froth his hand to take it, his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground, and broke his arm."
  9. As soon as the teacher closed her remarks, George rose from his seat and said, " I struck the ball that broke the pane of glass, and I am willing to pay for it."
  10. William then rose and said, "It will not be right for George to pay the whole cost. We were all engaged in the play, and I am willing to pay my share."
  11. "And I ? I ? I! Exclaimed all the boys, at the same time. A thrill of pleasure went through the whole school, at this display of right feeling.
  12. But here the teacher spoke again, and said, "I am very glad that George has had the courage to confess the truth; and that you all appear so willing to share with him in the expense. This, however, I shall not ask of you. It is enough for me that the truth has come out, as it did, and that you all evince such a willingness to do what is right."

  Eugene. Oh, I wish I were a man! For then I should be my own master; and people would not always be saying to me, "Eugene, you must do this;" or, "Eugene, you must go there." I can not bear the word, must.
  Mother. You should make up your mind to bear it; for you will be obliged to hear it, even when you come to be a man. 
  Eugene. Why, mother, who do you think will dare say to be, "You must," when I get to be a man?
  Mother. Did you not hear your father tell the men, this morning, they must get in the hay, and stack up the grain?
  Eugene. Yes; but they hired men, and father pays them for their services.
  Mother. Well, do you not get pay for your services? Who pays for your food and clothing? Did you not hear your uncle say, last evening, that boys did not half pay for their "bringing up?"
  Eugene. Yes; but some people seem to think that boys must do every thing. When I get to be a man, I intend to go to sear.
  Mother. There you will find it is all must work. Ship-masters are very strict, and all the sailors are obliged to obey orders prompting.
  Eugene. Well, perhaps, one of these days, I shall be rich enough to live without work, and the, I wonder who will order me around.
  Mother. Then you will be a man of fashion, I suppose; and your tailor will tell you how you must have your coat made; and the hatter will say, "You must have a more stylish hat."
  Eugene. Oh, I should be willing to have the tailor tell me I must have a new suit of clothes, and the hatter to tell me I must have a new hat, if I had money enough to pay for them!
  Mother. Yes; but I heard a rich man say, yesterday, he must go to court; but he did not wish to go.
  Eugene. Why must he go, if he does not wish to go, mother?
  Mother. Because he is an important witness in a suit. The court had served a summons on him, and he must be there to give in his testimony. So, you perceive that the rich, as well as the poor, have du
Have duties which they must perform.
  Eugene. Had I known that before, I do not think I should have disliked that word, must, tells us what we ought to do.
  Mother. Yes; or, in other words, it points out your duty; and when you know what duty is,. You ought it willingly and cheerfully.

1. Little things, ay, little things, 
Make up the sum of life;
A word, a book, a single tone, 
May lead to calm or strife.
2. A word may part the dearest friends, 
One little, unkind word,
Which, in some light, unguarded hour, 
The heart with anger stirred.
3. A look, will sometimes send a pang
Of anguish to the heart;
A tone will often cause the tear
In sorrow's eye to start.
4. One little act of kindness done,
  One little, soft word spoken,
  Hath power to wake a thrill of joy
  E'en in a heart that's broken.
5. Then let us watch these little things,
And so respect each other, 
That not a word, a look, or tone.
May wound a friend or brother.

1. "I NEVER shall forget," said a lady to me, one day, "my first and last theft. It took place when I was a child, not more than seven or eight years of age.
2. "On my way to school, I used to stop in at Mrs. Bennett's, almost every morning, to see her little daughter, Flora, one of the clearest little girls that ever lived. She was about three years old.
3. "One morning, I found Mrs. Bennett making a dress for Flora, of the most beautiful calico. I thought it the prettiest I had ever seen; and, oh! how I wished I had a piece of that calico, to put in a patch-work quilt which I was making! but I did not like to ask for any.
4. "In a few minutes, Mrs. Bennett left the room. I picked up a three-cornered piece that lay on the floor, and hid it in my bosom. I then started for school, every now and then looking at my beautiful calico, and thinking how cleverly I managed to get it.
5. "But, all at once, the thought came into mind, that I had stolen it; and I began to feel very bad. At school, I could not attend to my lessons; there seemed to be great lumps in my throat, and the three-cornered piece of calico, in my bosom, felt as if it were piercing me with every point.
6. "The teacher asked me if I felt sick. I was going to reply, �eYes,' but I thought in time, �eNo; I will not be guilty of telling a lie, besides stealing.' So, I told her that I felt bad.
7. "She very kindly told me to go out in the play-ground for a little while, and said she thought I would soon feel better. Oh, how I wished she had not been so kind! I thought if she only knew what a wicked girl I was, she would never have spoken to me so kindly.
8. "I went out, and tried to find a place to hide the piece of calico; but where to put it, I did not know. I thought every body would be sure to see it, and know that I had stolen it. I spied a little hole in a post, and thought that that would be a good hiding place.
9. "I crowded it into hole, and fancied that I felt happier; but the bright and beautiful colors still haunted me. I thought the children would surely find it, and I must look for some more secure place. I took it out again, and tried to chew and swallow it; but I soon found I could not do it. Oh, how wretched I was beginning to feel!
10. "On my way home from school, I had to cross a bridge over a running stream of water; and there, I thought I could surely get rid of the calico. I threw it over, and watched it slowly floating down the stream.
11. "It soon whirled into a little eddy, and kept floating round and round in a circle. Would it never float out of sight; and if it did, where would it go? Would it not be sure to float right in sight of some one who would know that it was Mrs. Bennett's calico, and that I had stolen it?
12. "While I leaned over the bridge, and watched it with all the agony of childish remorse, it caught against the root of a tree which grew upon the bank, and there it stuck, where every one could see it. I was sure they could not, and would not see any thing else.
13. "Soon I heard a carriage coming toward the bridge. I felt certain that Mrs. Bennett was in the carriage, that she would see the piece of calico, and tell all my uncles, and aunts, and playmates, and every one that knew me, that I had been stealing.
14. "I climbed over the bridge, crept down the bank, and hid until the carriage had passed. When all was quiet, I came out of my hiding-place, and tried to reach the calico; but my arm was too short. I took off my shoes and stockings, waded into the water, and, with a long stick, I reached the calico. But what to do with it, I did not know.
15. "While putting on my stockings and shoes, I made up my mind to take it back to Mrs. Bennett's, slyly drop it on the floor, and then run home. I soon reached the house. Mrs. Bennett was sitting by the window. I opened the door, threw the piece of calico into the hall, and was running away, when she called after me: "Sarah, my dear child, what ails you?'
16. " I hardly dared return; but she called again. I went slowly back. �eWhy, Sarah, what is the matter with you?' said Mrs. Bennett; �eyou look quite pale." Why did you throw that piece of calico into the hall?'
17. "'I stole it, when I was at your house, this morning,' said I; and I expected she would tell me never to come into her house again; that she could not allow such a wicked girl to play with her dear little Flora. But she put her arms around me, and said, "My poor child?'
18. "I had not shed a tear all day; but my head felt as if it would burst, and my throat ached. Those three words went to my poor little heart, and I burst into tears. �eSarah, dear,' she said, as she drew me close to her side, �etell me all about it.'
19. "I did tell, her, and my heart grew lighter and lighter. When I had finished, she said, �eI am sure I need not say a word to add to your sorrow; you have suffered enough today, and I do not think you will ever be tempted to be dishonest again.'
20. "She then gave me a few pieces of the pretty calico, and told me to put them into my patch-work; and, whenever I saw them, to remember this day. My children now sleep under that quilt; and I never see it without calling to mind the trouble I had with that beautiful three-cornered piece of calico.

1. A FARMER, after working hard for several weeks, succeeded in planting a large field with corn. But, as soon as the tender blades peeped out of the ground, the crows found their way into the field, and began to pluck them up.
2. The farmer, not being willing that the germs of a future crop should be thus destroyed, determined to drive them away. Accordingly, he loaded his trusty gun with the intention of shooting the crows, the next time they came into his field.
3. The farmer had a talkative and mischievous parrot, which was allowed the freedom of going wherever it pleased. "Pretty Poll," being a lover of company, -- not caring whether good or bad, -- and seeing the crows in the cornfield, hobbled over all obstacles, and was soon in the midst of the black robbers, that were pulling up the corn.
4. The farmer, seeing the havoc they were making, seized his gun, and crept along slyly beside the fence, till he came within a few rods of the bold thieves. He leveled his musket, and fired in their midst. With the report of the gun, were heard the screams of the crows, and a shriek from "Poor Poll."
5. The farmer went to see what effect he had produced. Looking among the lifeless crows, he was greatly surprised to find his mischievous parrot stretched out upon the ground, with feathers sadly ruffled, and a leg broken.
6. "You foolish bird!" exclaimed the farmer, "this is the result of keeping bad company." The parrot did not reply, probably because it did not know exactly what to say. He carried "Poor Poll" to the house; and when the children saw the wounded leg, they exclaimed: "What did it, father? What hurt our pretty parrot?"
7. "Bad company! bad company!" answered "Poor Poll," in a solemn voice. "Ay, that was the cause," said the farmer. "Poll was in company with the wicked, thieving crows when I fired, and received a shot which was intended for them."
8. The children then put a bandage around the broken leg, and, in a few weeks, the parrot was a lively as ever. But it never forgot the adventure in the cornfield, and the lesson it had been taught while in company with the crows.
9. It was said, after this, that, if the farmer's children wrangled among themselves, or engaged in play with quarrelsome companions, the parrot would cry out, "Bad company! bad company!" Remember the words of the parrot, my young friends, and always shun bad company.


1. Dear little Peeto! what a gay, blithe creature he was! He used to go singing about nearly all day; he was always merry, and scarcely any thing could make him sad.
2. One day, little Peeto went off to take a ramble in a large forest, at some distance from his home. He had often been on the sides of the forest; but it looked so dark he was afraid to enter.
3. But Peeto was more merry than usual on this day; for the sun hone so brightly, and the flowers looked so lovely, that he sang and whistled, till the woods rang with his music. He amused himself, for some time, among the trees and flowers, and, at last, seemed quite glad to have found such a pleasant spot.
4. There was a clear brook running through the woods, and the waters looked so clean, that Peeto, being very thirsty, stopped down to drink; but, just at that moment, he was suddenly seized from behind, and found himself in the hands of a great, fierce, ugly-looking giant.
5. The giant looked at him with savage delight; his mouth opened, and he made a noise which seemed to Peeto quite terrible. Peeto thought that the giant would instantly devour him, This, however, he did not do, but put him into a large bag, and carried him away.
6. The poor little captive tried to get out of the bag; but, to no purpose. The giant held him fast. At last, the giant came to his own house, which was a gloomy-looking place, with a high wall all around it, and no trees or flowers. When he went in, he shut the door, and took Peeto out of the bag.
7. Peeto now thought he should be killed; for, as he looked around, he saw a large fire, and before it were four victims, like himself, roasting for the giant's supper. The giant, however, did not kill Peeto. He took him round the body, and gave him such a squeeze as to put him in great pain; and then threw him into a prison which he had prepared for him.
8. It was a dark and dreary place, with iron bars set all around, to prevent his getting out. Peeto beat his head against the iron bars, and dashed backward and forward in his dungeon, trying to make his escape. The giant gave him a piece of dry bread and a cup of water, and left him.
9. The next day, the giant came and saw that Peeto had eaten none of his bread; so he took him by the head, and crammed some of it down his throat, and seemed quite vexed to think he would not eat. Poor little Peeto! he was too much frightened to eat or drink.
10. He was let alone, in the dark, another day; and a sad day it was. The poor creature thought of his own home, his companions, the sunlight, the trees, and the many nice things he used to get to eat, and then he screamed, tried to get between the iron bars, and beat his head and limbs sore in trying to get out.

11. The giant came again, and wanted Peeto to sing, just as he did when he was merry. "Sing! sing! sing!" said he; but poor Peeto was too sad to sing in a prison.

12. The giant now seemed quite in a rage, and took Peeto out to make him sing. Peeto gave a loud scream, a plunge, a struggle, and sand dead in the giant's hand! Ah! my young readers, poor Peeto was a little bird, and the giant was a cruel boy.

1. Suppose the little cowslip. Should hang its golden cup, and say, "I'm such a tiny flower, I'd better not grow up;" How many a weary traveler would miss its fragrant smell; How many a little child would mourn its absence from the dell!
2. Suppose the glistening dewdrop upon the grass should say, "what can a little dewdrop do? I'd better roll away;" The blade on which it rested, before the day was done, without a drop to moisten it, would wither in the sun.
3. Suppose the little breezes upon a summer's day, should think themselves too small to cool. The traveler on his way; who would not miss the smallest and softest ones that blow, and think they make a great mistake if they were talking so?
4. How many deeds of kindness a little child may do, although it has so little strength, and little wisdom too! It wants a loving spirit, much more than strength, to prove how many things a child may do for others, by its love.

1. Olive Munson had been absent from home three months, attending a boarding school. She was thirteen years of age the seventh day of July; and, as her birthday came during the vacation, she was delighted with the idea of going home to visit her friends.
2. Olive was a kind-hearted girl, and was dearly beloved by all her friends and associates. After she had been home a few days, her mother told her she might invite a few of her young friends to come and see her on her birthday.
3. Her mother bought an elegant set of china, a small table and furniture, and gave them to Olive for her birthday present. Olive arranged her tea-set on the table in good order; and when her friends came to see her, she showed them her beautiful present. The girls all thought them very pretty, and hoped that her cup of joy might ever be full.
4. It was a very fine day, and the girls went out to take a walk in the grove. Here they gathered a great many wild flowers, and wove them into a beautiful bouquet, which they presented to Olive. Just on the edge of the grove, Olive's brother ha d put up a swing, in a cool, shady place; and the girls had a fine time swinging each other, until they heard the tea-bell ring.
5. Near the house where Olive lived, was a high rock, which they called Old Bald Head. This rock cast a cool shade in the afternoon, on the soft, green grass-plot near the house. While the girls were engaged in their sports. Olive's mother told the servants to spread the table under the shade of this large rock.
6. When the girls came to the house, and went into the room, they wondered what had become of the little table and tea things. Olive went into the kitchen;  but they were not there. She saw, however, one of the servants smile; and then she suspected they had contrived a plan to surprise her.
7. She ran up stairs, and looked into the rooms; but could see nothing of the tea- table. Casting her eye out of the window, however, she saw it all neatly spread under the shade of the rock. She went down and invited her friends to go out and visit Old Bald Head.
8. Here they found the table all set with cake, cream, and strawberries. The girls had a fine feast, and said it was the most delightful place they had ever seen for a strawberry festival. They laughed heartily at the joke which had been played off on Olive; but added, that her surprise would tend to make her remember her birthday.
9. After enjoying themselves for a while, under the shade of the rock, they all went into the house, and sung, --"when shall we all meet again," while Olive played the tune on the piano. Then the girls went home, highly delighted with the pleasant visit they had enjoyed at Olive's birthday festival.

  Mother. Here is a parcel just handed to me. I wonder what it contains! Let me open it and see! Oh, what a pretty box! and with it a label, It reads, "A gift for a good little girl with red ringlets." Who claims it?
  Bertha. I have the "red ringlets," mother; but of my claims on the score of goodness, I must leave my friends to judge.
  Mother. This friend judges kindly of them; for the gift can be for none but you. Can you guess who sent it?
  Bertha. Oh, yes; I know the hand-writing! Let me open it. Oh, what a sweet odor! Here is a small vial of ottar! Surely, the incense we read of in the Bible, could be no richer!
  Mother. Bertha, you are happy in having so kind a friend. How often she thinks of you!
  Berth. Yes, mother; and I feel deeply grateful to her, and I wish that I could do something, in return, for all her kindness.
  Mother. Well, Berth, perhaps you may be able, at some future time; and if so, I hope you will not forget to do it. An ingrate is not lovely, and can not be happy.
  Bertha. Oh, mother! do you think I could cease to love this kind lady, and to be grateful for all her favors? 
  Mother. I hope not, my child; I should be sorry if you should; but let it not surprise you, if you find that many seem to desire to forget past favors. Do you know any such?
  Bertha. Yes, mother; I think I do. I know one man who would not help the friend who had helped him in his distress. He is an ingrate, is he not?
  Mother. Yes, my child; you are right. Such want of love from a child, it is well said, "is sharper than a serpent's tooth." You see daily how much children owe to their parents.
  Bertha. Yes, mother; when I see you, day by day, making and mending garments for us, and doing for us a hundred other things, I wish I were able to help you more. And daily, when I see father busy, that he may be able to give us food and clothing, and books, and to send us to school, I think, "What can we do for our kind parents?"
  Mother. Yes, Bertha; your conduct shows that such are your feelings, and it is this which obtains for you the name of "the good little girl." Do you know of any one besides our earthly friends, who takes notice of love and duty to parents?
  Bertha. Yes, mother; our heavenly Parent has said, "Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."
  Mother. Yes; but how little do they appear to think of this, who obey not their parents, or who suffer them, when old, to pine in want and neglect, which they are living in plenty, for which, perhaps, their parents toiled.
  How pleasant it is to see age happy, and how pleasing the duty of striving to make it so! It is love that makes us al happy. Let us, the, be kind to all; but, by all means, let us be kind to our parents; for they have been kind to us.
  And while we are happy in them, let us raise our hearts to Him who gave us parents and friends, who gave us the fair, green earth, and all which makes life pleasant; and who has given us a promise of a brighter home beyond the skies, where all is light, and life, and love.

1. As Martha Spencer came home from school, one afternoon, her mother saw by her looks and  manner, that she was displeased with something, and asked her to tell what it was. 
 2. "Oh, it is not much! " said something to Frances Newton, which she did not like, and she burst out crying, as if her heart would break. When I saw how bad she felt, I wished I had not spoken as I did. And yet I was provoked at her for making such ado about it; for, after all, it was nothing to get so vexed about."
 3. "Why, I thought that you and Frances Newton were real friends. I should be very sorry to have any thing happen to break your friendship. What did you say to wound her feelings?
 4. "I said she was a cross and disobliging girl. And so she was, --or, at least, has been today; for she has not done a single thing that any of the girls wished her to do. She would not play with us during  recess; and she would not assist little Ida Burns about her sums, though she could have done it as well as not."
 5. "I never heard you complain of Frances before. Is she not usually kind and obliging?"
 6. "Oh, yes, mother! I think she is as pleasant and obliging as any girl in school; but today she has been quite otherwise."
 7. "If that is the case, I think you spoke very harshly to her this afternoon. Perhaps she has been in trouble today, and what you have called crossness, has only been sadness. If this should prove to be the case, would you not feel some self-reproach for the way in which you spoke to her?
 8. "Yes, mother; if I knew this was the case, I should feel very sorry for it, indeed.
 9. The next night, when Martha returned from school, she sat down by her mother's side, and, burying her face in her lap, began to cry.
 10. "Why, Martha, what is the matter with you now? Why do you weep so?" asked her mother.
 11. "Oh, mother, Frances Newton's dear little brother is dead! It was because she felt afraid he would die, that she was so sad yesterday. Oh, I am so sorry I called her cross, and spoke unkindly to her, that I can never forgive myself!
 12. "She told me all about it today. She said that just before she came to school yesterday morning, she heard her mother say to her father, �e I think our little Henry is a very sick child. I fear we shall have to part with him.'
 13. "These words made her feel so sad all day, that she could not play, or hardly speak to any one. Two or three times she tried to tell us what the matter was; but her heart was so full, and there seemed to be such a choking in her throat, that she could not speak of it.
 14. "When she went home at night, she found her dear little brother a great deal worse, and about sunset he died. How sad she must have felt! and then to think that I should add to her sorrow, by speaking so unkindly. Oh, if I could only take back those cruel words!
 15. "That you can not do," said her mother; "and I hope this painful lesson will teach you never to speak harshly or unkindly to others. Kind and gentle words are always harmless, and they often prove a balm to some sorrowing heart. How much pleasure it would now give you, if you had spoken gently to Frances yesterday!"
 16. "Indeed it would, mother. I can not tell how sorry I am for the cruel words I spoke; and I hope I shall learn from it to be always kind and gentle to others."

1. "Oh, dear!" said little Darwin to his mother, "how black and heavy the clouds do look! I fear it is going to rain, and then I shall have to stay in the house all day."
 2. Boys do not like to stay in the house; they much prefer to play in the open air. It was not strange, therefore, that Darwin said this in a peevish tone of voice.
 3. His mother was a kind and gentle lady, and she loved her little son very much. So she tried, every day, to impart some useful knowledge to his mind, or tell him some amusing story to make him cheerful and happy.
 4. Soon after Darwin had said this, he went to his drawer to get out his tops, balls, and marbles, to play in the house. All at once, he shouted out, "O mother, see! It snows! It snows! Now, I can have a fine time with my new sled. I will draw my little sister all around the yard."
 5. "That will be very fine sport, indeed," said his mother; "but you must wait until the ground is all covered with snow, before you go out with your sled to play.
 6. "Come to the window, and see how gently the flakes fall! Faster and faster yet they come! Now, would you not like to have a talk about the snow? I think I could tell you something about it, which would interest you very much."
 7. "Oh, yes, mother!" said Darwin; "do tell us all about the snow. That will be so pleasant, now, while it is snowing."
 8. "Well, then," said his mother, "let me tell you that snow is nothing but frozen rain. When the upper air is quite cold, then the rain or mist which is up there, turns into snow as it descends to the ground. For, sometimes the upper air is much colder than that down on the surface of the earth."
 9. "Oh, yes!" said Darwin; "I have often noticed that when it begins to snow, the air is not as cold as it was just before; and I never knew how to account for its snowing at such times."
 10. "Now I will tell you something still more wonderful about the snow," said his mother. "When the mist and rain-drops freeze, they display a great variety of the most beautiful forms. If you look at them through a microscope, they appear to be regular crystals. A man who had examined a vast number of them, has drawn ninety-six different varieties.
 11. "In the picture, you can see a number of the most curious and beautiful forms. They remind you of the figures you saw, the other day in the kaleidoscope."
 12. "Oh, they are really wonderful!" said Darwin. "Why, I never thought that the snow contained such beautiful figures! I shall never handle it again without thinking of its beauty. I am almost afraid to walk upon it, for fear of crushing these beautiful crystals. But, mother; what good odes the snow do?"
 13. "I am glad to hear you ask that question," said his mother; "for it shows you are anxious to know more about it. The snow is not only very beautiful, but it is, also, very useful. The snow falls in large quantities on the mountains, and when it melts, it flows down in little streams to water the valleys. 
 14. "The snow, also, serves to cool the air in summer. In some countries the snow remains all summer on the tops of the highest mountains, and the breezes which pass over them, become cool, and temper the burning heat of the plains below."
 15. "Well, I heard a farmer say that there had not been snow enough, this winter, upon the fields of grain, to cause a good crop next summer. What did he mean by that, mother?" asked Darwin.
 16. "The farmer knows that a good coat of snow, spread over the grain-fields inn winter, protects the roots and tender leaves of the grain from the action of the severe frosts. And thus, you will sometimes hear the farmer say, his �ecrops are winter-killed.'"
 17. "That reminds me," said Darwin, "of what I was reading, the other day, in the 55th chapter of Isaiah, where it said, �eFor, as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither; but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void; but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.'
 18. "When I read these verses, I wondered what the snow had to do with producing seed and bread. But you have made them very plain; and I now understand some of the benefits of snow.

 1. Work while you work, play while you play; for that is the way to be cheerful and gay.
 2. All that you do, do with your might; things done by halves are never done right.
 3. One thing each time, and that done well, is a very good rule, as many can tell.
 4. Moments are useless trifled away; so work while you work, and play while you play.

1. "O Aunt Mary, I wish I were a fairy! said little Emma Wood, after she had finished reading a book of fairy tales.
 2. "What would you do, Emma, if you were a fairy? asked her aunt.
 3. "Oh, I would go about doing good all the time! Good little girls should wakeup with silver spoons in their mouths, and naughty girls, with pewter ones. I would scatter gold and jewels about, and nobody should do any work."
 4. You can be a little fairy, if you wish," said her aunt, smiling. 
 5. "Can I/" replied Emma; "then I will, just as soon as you tell me how; and I will pay you with a necklace of diamonds."
 6. "I am afraid you can not drop gold and jewels about," said her aunt; "and, if you could, they would, in many cases, only tend to make people unhappy. Neither do I think it would be doing good, to have no work done. All would be idle, and, of course, would not be as happy as those who have something to do."
 7. "Yes," replied Emma; "I always feel very happy when I have finished my sewing, or learned all my lessons."
 8. "There are many kinds of fairies," said her aunt; "and you can be a little household fairy. Smiles and pleasant words often do more good than gold or jewels. �ePleasant words are as a honey-comb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.'"
 9. "Oh, yes," said Emma, clapping her hands; "I know now what you mean! I will be kind to every body. I will help Susan Mills get her lessons, and I will be good to little Frank. When he tears my books, or gets my doll, I will not scold him."
 10. "You may write all the good you do in your diary," said her aunt, "and, at the end of the week, I will read it, and see what success you have had."
 11. Emma ran out of the room, and soon returned with her bonnet on, leading her little brother by the hand. "I am going to take Frank out on the green, and play with him." When she returned, half an hour afterwards, Frank was in fine spirits, with a wreath of buttercups on his hat, and some pretty pebbles and stones which Emma had picked up for him.
 12. "What makes Emma look so pleasant?" asked her uncle in the evening. "I have not seen such a sweet smile on her face for a long time."
 13. "Oh," said Aunt Mary, "Emma is trying to be a little fairy this week!"
 14. "Yes," said Emma; "what shall I give you ? a basket of pearls or rubies?"
 15. "A basket of smiles, and a basket of pleasant words," replied her uncle.
 16. At the end of the week Emma gave her diary to her aunt to read. It was as follows: "I am to be a fairy this week. I will try to make people think they are flowers, and I am a little sunbeam shining upon them.
 17. "Monday. I visited Susan Mills, and read to her. She thanked me so much that I felt ashamed and sorry that I had not done so before, and it was so little too. I will read to her again. I gathered all the flowers that were in blossom in my garden, and carried them to Mrs. Rich, the sick lady. I was going to keep some myself; but I am sure I felt happier than if I had done so.
 18. "Tuesday. I staid at home when I was going to spend the afternoon with Clara Brown; because Aunt Mary's head ached. I told Frank stories to keep him still, and when we went to tea, he kissed me, and said he loved me very much. I am sure I love him. He looks so cunning when he has done any mischief, and seems so sorry for it, that I can not help loving him.
 19. "Wednesday. Clara Brown and I met a little boy carrying a basket of apples. As we were going by him, he spilled them. Clara laughed, and I was about to, when I remembered that I was a little fairy, and helped him pick them up. He said his mother was very poor. I went home with him. He lived in a small, old house. His mother was sick. She said that she had nothing in the house to eat. I gave her a quarter of a dollar that I had in my pocket, and told Aunt Mary about her. She got some sewing for her to do, and helped her a great deal.
 20. "Thursday. I was sick; but I did not cry. I took the bitter medicine without any trouble, and did not speak a cross word, though I felt very cross. The words kept coming; but I shut my mouth very closely, and kept them in.
 21. "Friday. I went to Susan Mills' funeral. I was so sorry she was dead, and felt so sad to see her father and mother cry, that I cried too. I went Saturday, and put some flowers on her gave. When I was coming away, I met Mrs. Mills, and she kissed me, and cried very hard. I cried again. Susan was a good little girl, although she could not get her lessons very well, and I shall miss her very much.
 22. "I was going to be a little fairy to do good to others; but I think I have done myself good. When I have been trying to make other happy, I have felt happy myself. I hope I do not feel proud our vain, and think that I have done a great deal of good. I have not done half as I might have done. I am afraid I have tried to do good because I am a fairy, and not because it is my duty. I will not be a fairy any more. I will only be little Emma Wood."
 23. Emma became a very good little girl. She would sometimes forget herself; but she was generally kind, gentle, and obedient; and, though she dropped the name herself, those who knew her, often called her "The Little Household Fairy."

  1. Would it not please you to pick up a string of pearls, drops of gold, diamonds, and precious stones, as you pass along the streets? It would make you feel happy for a month to come. Such happiness you can give to others.
  2. How, do you ask? By dropping sweet words, kind remarks, and pleasant smiles, as you pass along. These are true pearls and precious stones which can never be lost, and of which none can deprive you.
  3. Speak to that orphan child! see the diamonds drop from her cheek. Take the hand of that friendless boy! bright pearls flash in his eyes. Smile on the sad and dejected! a joy suffuses their cheeks more brilliant than the most splendid, precious stones.
  4. By the wayside, amid the city's din, and at the fireside of the poor, drop words and smiles to cheer and bless. You will feel happier when resting on your pillow at the close of day, than if you had picked up a score of perishing diamonds. The later fade and crumble in time, the former grow brighter with age, and produce happier reflections forever.


  1. Near a small village in New England, one Saturday afternoon, a party of merry boys were engaged in riding down hill. They drew their sleds to the top of the long hill, then, guiding them by a strong cord, they descended the hill together, each striving to make his own sled go swiftest and farthest.
  2. Loud shouts of merriment burst from the happy group, as they passed each other in ascending or descending the hill. Sometimes a luckless boy would be thrown from his sled into the snow headlong, which would cause them all to shout with glee.
  3. Joseph stood at the top of the hill, near the place whence the boys started, and, with a sad face and tearful eyes, he watched the joyous lads. "How happy I should be," thought he, "if I could have a sled!" As one of the larger boys came near him, he said, "Please, Rufus, let me take your sled; for, I must go home soon, and I have not had one ride today.
  4. "No!" said Rufus, roughly; "I want it myself. Why don't you have one of your own?" and before Joseph could reply, Rufus was nearly at the foot of the hill again; not, for a moment, thinking of the pain his unkind answer had caused the little orphan boy.
  5. Joseph turned his steps toward home, his little heart swelling with grief. "If my father had not died," said he to himself, "he would have bought me as pretty a sled as any one has; but I have no father or mother to buy me any such things:" and the tears fell thick and fast as he returned to his home.
  6. Joseph had a kind sister who loved him very much, and who did every thing she could to make him happy. But this sister lived many miles away, in another village, and could go to visit Joseph only two or three times a year.
  7. She was, at that time, going to visit him, and thought the prettiest present she could carry him, would be a new sled. She bought one which was painted a bright red color, with stripes of white and blue around it, and the name "Swiftsure," painted in yellow letters on each side of it.
  8. Oh, what joy filled little Joseph's heart, when his sister gave him this bearutiful sled! The next Saturday afternoon, he was permitted to go to the hill to play with the other boys. How his eyes glistened with pride and pleasure as he heard the remarks of his companions, about his pretty, new sled!
  9. "What a beauty!" said one. "Where did you get it?" asked another. "It is the best one in the village," said a third. Rufus Smith came up to the eager group, and said, -- "Oh, it is a frail little thing! It will soon break to pieces!" But this unkind remark did not spoil Joseph's sport; for he could now join in the race with the swiftest, and his laugh was heard ringing out as merrily as the merriest.
 10. Little Edward Howe stod looking at the party of boys, this afternoon, as Joseph had done the wee before, wishing that he, to, could have a sled. But his mother was a poor widow, and could not afford to buy her little boy such costly things. As Joseph returned to the top of the hill to prepare to descend again, he saw little Edward looking at his new sled, from behind a group of larger boys.
 11. "Hop on to my sled, behind me, Edward," said Joseph; "it is large enough for us both." And away they went, passing many of the larger boys; for Joseph's "Swiftsure" sped swiftly over the snow, down the hill, and half way across the meadow, "like a thing of life."
 12. "What a fine time we are having!" said Edward, as again they descended the hill. "Yes," said Joseph; "was not my sister kind to get me just the thing I wanted most?" "I wish I had a sister," said Edward. "Never mind," replied Joseph, "you may use my sled when I do not want it; and when I come out here to ride, you may come with me, and we willalways ride together."
 13. Just then another shout of laughter was heard from the larger boys. Rufus Smith's sled had struck upon a rock, which was partly covered by the snow; the sled was broken, and Rufus was thrown headlong into the snow. He rose slowly, and, brushing the snow from his clothes, looked sorrowfully at his broken sled.
 14. "I am glad of it," thought Joseph; "for he would not let me take it last week, and today he said my new sled would be easily broken." But something seemed to say to him, "That is wrong." When Rufus came dragging his broken sled to the place where Joseph and Edward were standing, Joseph said to him: "Rufus, I am sorry for you accident; you may take my sled awhile, if you wish. Edward and I will rest a few minutes."
 15. Rufus was surprised and said, "Thank you, Joseph; you are a better boy than I am; for I would not lend you my sled, last Saturday. I am sorry now that I did not." Rufus Smith was, ever after this, Joseph's firm friend. How much nobler is a forgiving spirit than a revengeful one!

1. We are but minutes ? little things, each one furnished with sixty wings, with which we fly on our unseen track, and not a minute ever comes back.
2. We are but minutes, yet each bears a little burden of joys and cares; patiently take the minutes of pain; the worst of minutes can not remain.
3. We are not minutes, -- when we bring a few sweet drops from pleasure's spring; oh, taste their sweetness while we stay; it takes but a minute to fly away!
4. We are but minutes, -- use us well; for how we're used we soon must tell; who uses minutes, has hours to use; who loses minutes, whole years must lose.

  Anna: Mother, how I should like to have a little girl under my care, that I could make do just as I pleased! That would be so pleasant, would it not, mother?
  Mother. Very pleasant, to you; but I suppose she would sometimes find you rather a hard mistress.
  Anna. Oh no! I should be very kind to her: I would teach her every thing I know myself.
  Mother. I am afraid you would not. And what would be the use of your plan, after al? I dare say she would be much better taught at school.
  Anna. I do not know; but I should like to instruct her myself so much.
  Mother. But why should you want another pupil? To my certain knowledge, there is one little girl whom you might have had the charge of, for several years past.
  Anna. Indeed! Who is she?
  Mother. Before I answer that question, I must tell how you have treated her. You have been so indulgent to her, that, had I not takes some control of her, she would have been quite ruined. You denied her nothing you could procure; so that, if I refused her any thing, she was angry, and often wished that I would let you manage her entirely. Indeed, I sometimes wish you were not so partial to her.
  Anna. Do you mean the little girl that comes here sometimes for my old clothes? I have heard you say that you did not object to my doing her all the good I could.
  Mother. I am not speaking of that little girl. Your companion is receiving an education like your own; and, did you strive to improve her manners, she would, not doubt, become a pleasing and useful girl. At present, her temper is not the best; and, though she is too fond of you, ever to desire to injure you, she does not scruple to show her ill-will toward others that displease her.
  Anna. Perhaps you mean cousin Jemima; she never struck me yet, though she often strikes her little brother. But I have no influence over her, mother.
  Mother. You have not, or, at most, but very little; therefore, I do not mean her.
  Anna. I wish I knew whom you do mean. I would soon teach her better manners; for she must be a very naughty girl.
  Mother. It is not so easy a task to teach her better manners as you may think. All your lifetime, you will have as much as you can do to keep her in subjection.
  Anna. If I thought you were in earnest, I should be quite alarmed.
  Mother. I do not wish to alarm you, my child; but I certainly am in earnest. I have not yet full described her. She is the most powerful enemy you have.
  Anna. How can she be my enemy, and yet partial to me, and I to her?
  Mother. Though we ought to love our enemies, yet, in this case, you do love her too well; and it is in this, that the mischief lies. You ought to try to reform her; and this you can not do, till you know who she is, and, therefore I will now tell you; I mean Your-self.

1. Cousin Sarah had come to see me, and we were going to the woods to find silver-hickory nuts, and yellow walnuts, and wild grapes, and to swing; for we knew of a nice swing in the woods; but we were selfish, and did not want my little brother and sister, Delia and Albert, to go with us.
2. Many times and ways we tried to get away from them; but they suspected our motive, and kept with us all the while. Now, we said we were going to play in the garret, and asked Delia to find the doll we had made out of rags, with black marks of coal for its eyes, and without arms or legs; but Delia said she did not know where it was, and could not find it, unless I would help her.
3. Then we said we knew where there were some ripe pears, and asked Albert and Delia if they did not want some; but they said no, unless we would go with them to the tree. Albert was tow years older than I; and Delia, about two years younger, -- as meek and sweet a child as ever lived.
4. She was never cross, and never struck me in her life; but, whatever I wished her to do, she almost always did; and, in pleasing me, she seemed to please herself more. The remembrance of all this goodness, makes my own selfish conduct look so much the worse.
5. I can see her now, -- just as she used to look, with a pale face, and large black eyes that always seemed mournful, and thin brown hair hanging loose on her neck; for it was neither braided nor curled. 
6. I remember the dress she sore that very day, -- a pale clue calico that was almost outgrown, and the pink gingham bonnet that she held in her hand, as she looked at us wishfully, but said nothing. Albert was a sturdy, good-natured boy; but having a temper that could be aroused.
7. He would have liked, very much, to go to the woods with us; for cousin Sarah was always full of fun, and he delighted to be with her; but he no sooner suspected we did not wish him to go with us, than he called Delia aside, and said to her: "You and I will go and swing in the barn, and not stay with folks that do not want us." So Delia put her little sun-burnt hand in his, and looking sorrowfully toward us, they went together to the barn.
8. We felt quite ashamed when they were gone, and were half inclined to follow them, and play together, and so be friends again; but Albert did not once look back, or seem to care where we went. So we took our bonnets that we had hidden under some burdock-leaves, and set off for the woods, laughing and talking as though very happy. But we were not happy at all. Indeed, I think both of us were ashamed and sorry for what we had done.
9. We reached the forest, and, as we walked through the dead leaves, and over the mounds, Sarah said that Indians were buried beneath them; and so we began to talk of other dead people beside Indians, and, instead of being merry, we became very sad. Often, while we walked to and fro over the mounds, I looked toward the barn, -- for it was in full view, -- saw the door open, and knew that Albert and Delia were there.
10. After a while, we went deeper into the woods, and gathered grapes and walnuts, and swung till we were tired; but, all the time, we kept thinking the woods would not be so lonely, if we were all together. So, long before sunset, we set out for home, intending to go straight to the barn, and make amends for our bad conduct.
11. We were nearly there, when, all at once, we heard a cry, as if some accident had happened. I tried to run; but was so much frightened that I could not get along at all. Soon I saw Albert carrying backward, and her little beet dragging; for Albert was so much frightened that he could not carry her; and when he saw us, he let her fall on the ground, and began to wring his hands, and cry.
12. Poor little Delia! she had been walking on a beam twenty feet from the floor, and, suddenly growing dizzy, had fallen. Her head was bleeding, and her face was white as death. What I suffered then I can not tel. If we had not gone to the woods, or, if we had taken her with us, it would not have been. Oh, how bitterly these reproaches came to me!
13. Delia was carried home, laid on the bed, and the doctor sent for. We could not tell how badly she was hurt, nor whether she would even live till the doctor could get there. She was alive, we knew, and that was all; for she lay still and insensible.
14. When the doctor came, he asked how the accident had happened; and then I was so much afraid that he would learn my guilt, though no one knew it but myself, that I went out of the house, and, with a stick, digged in the ground for a long time, having no object, and scarcely knowing what I was doing. I was told that doctor said Delia was very badly hurt; but that she might possibly get well.
15. At supper time, I said I did not want any, and would watch with her. When they were all gone, I called her softly, folded her hands close in mine, and kissed her several times. As I did so, she opened her eyes and smiled; and, putting her arms around my neck, held me close to her for a moment; then her hands grew damp and fell away; great drops of sweat stood on her forehead; her lips grew white and trembled.
16. I ran to the stairs and called. Mrs. Henry, who had been sent for, went close to the bed, and, saying to me, "Don't cry so," laid her fingers on the sweet eyes that had looked their last on me so lovingly. Then she reached the other hand, and drew down the poor child's feet, and we all knew that she was dead.
17. The grass has grown over the grave of little Delia, long, long years. Many a time I have brought violets to plant about it, from the very woods where Sarah and I went to play, and never without shedding the bitter tears.
18. All my life, that memory has been like a dark shadow following me about. Oh, it is a terrible thing to have done any thing wrong to those that are dead! No living voice can reproach us like their mute lips; no hands smite us like those that are folded upon the bosom from which life has fled.
19. If you who read this story, would avoid such memories, be kind to one another. It is not long that we are children together; it is not long that we live at all; and, if we would make life a blessing instead of a curse, we must do as we would be done by.

1. Two little boys, whose names were Paul and John, lived near each other in a very pleasant village, in England. Paul's father lived in a large mansion, and kept horses, and coaches, and servants. He had a nice lawn and garden, and was, what is called, a gentleman.
2. Paul had a pony to ride on, and a great many playthings, -- tops, hoops, balls, a kite, a ship, and every thing he could desire. He had, also, fine clothes to wear, and nothing to do but to go to do but to go to school.
3. John's father was a poor man; for he had only a small farm to support himself and family, and John was obliged to get up early in the morning, drive the cows to pasture, feel the pigs, and do a great deal of work before he went to school.
4. Although John's father was a poor man, he was determined to send his son to the best school in the village; "for," said he, "if my boy becomes a good man, he will be a comfort to me in my old age."
5. When John first came to the school, to which Paul went, the boys who were dressed better than the was, all shunned him. They did not like his coarse clothes, rough hands, and thick shoes. One said, "He shall not sit by me;" and another said, "He shall not sit by me;" so, when he went to take his seat, the boy who sat on it, moved away to the other end.
6. John did not know what this meant. At last, when he looked at his coarse clothes, rough hands, and thick shoes, and compared them with those of his schoolmates, he said to himself, "It is because I am a poor boy;" and the tears came into his eyes.
7. Paul saw what was going on, and he felt for the poor boy; so he went to the seat on which he sat, and said, "Do not cry, little boy; I will come and sit by you; and here is a nice apple for you.
8. This made John cry the more; but these were tears of joy, at having found some one to feel for him. Then Paul put his arm around his neck, and said, "I can not bear to see you cry. I will be your friend."
9. One of the boys cried out, "Paul is playing with apples;" and, in a minute, the teacher came up, and, without making any inquiry, took the apple away, and gave it to the boy who told; for this was the rule of the school. He gave Paul a stroke with his whip; but he did not mind that, because he knew he was doing right.
10. Then the other boys laughed, and seemed quite pleased; some peeped from behind their books, which they held before their faces, as if they were studying their lessons, and one said in a whisper, "Who likes stick licorice?
From that time, John felt as if he would be willing to do almost any thing to serve Paul, and he never seemed so happy as when he could play with him, or sit by his side at school.

1. Some time after this happened, Paul, who had about a mile to walk to his home, met a number   of gypsies. One said to the others, "That boy looks like a rich man's son. Let us take him into the woods, and rob him."
2. After whispering a little while together, one of them came close to Paul, and, in a moment, seized him round the waist, and put his hand over his mouth and nose, to prevent his calling out for help. They had made up their minds to steal him for his clothes.
3. When they had gone some distance, they turned aside into a piece of thick woods; and, when they reached the middle of it, they stripped Paul quite naked, left him under a tree, and went off with his clothes.
4. It was quite dark, and Paul was very much frightened. When the gypsies were gone, he cried out for help till he was hoarse, and could cry no longer. He was quite cold, and crept under some bushes to screen himself from the wind.
5. When Paul's father found he did not come home, he was very unhappy, and went to look for him. He sent servants, first one way, and then another; but no one could find him. His poor mother, too, was in great distress. Indeed, both father and mother feared they should never see their darling boy again.
6. They searched all the neighborhood, went up and down the river, and inquired of every one they met; but no one had seen him. They inquired of John, and he said, the last time he saw him, was when he bade him good-by at the corner of the lane.
7. night began to close in, and it grew dark. Paul was not found, and John was very unhappy. He went crying to bed; and when the knelt down to say his prayers, he prayed that Paul might come safely home again. He then went to bed; but he could not sleep; for he kept thinking about his kind schoolmate.
8. He leaped out of bed, and said, "I must go and see if Paul is found. I must go and seek him too." It was very dark, at first, so that he could scarcely see where he went. At last, the moon came up; and seemed to cheer him in his search.
9. He walked along, looking into every ditch and pond, going through every little clump of bushes; but, to no purpose; he could neither see nor hear any thing of Paul.
10. It was about twelve o'clock at night, when he reached the church-yard. Some boys would have been afraid of going near grave-yard, for fear of ghosts. but John said to himself, "If the living do not hurt me, I am sure the dead will not; besides, why should I be afraid, when I am doing what is right."
11. John thought he would look in the porch of the church. The old archway seemed to frown upon him; and it looked so dark within, it almost made him shudder, although he was not afraid. He stepped boldly in, and cried out, "Paul, are you here?"
12.  Something bounded by him, calling out, "Halloo!" and leaped behind one of the tomb-stones. When John looked, he found it was a poor boy, whom they used to call Silly Casper, and whose part John had often taken, when other boys used to tease him.
13. "Ah, Casper!" said John, "don't you know me?" The poor idiot knew him directly, and said, "Gypsy man carry him into the woods! No bell go dong dong!"
14. After some time, John made Casper understand that he was in search of Paul, and finally persuaded the silly boy to go with him to the woods; for John thought it might be that Paul had been taken away by somebody.
15. So they went on till they came to the woods, Casper leading the way. At last, they thought they heard a moan. John listened: he heard it again: he then pushed through the brambles, tearing his face and hands at every step. He called out, "Paul! Paul!" "Here! here!" was faintly heard in reply. John rushed to the spot, and there lay poor Paul half dead.
16. John quickly helped him up: he then pulled off some of his own clothes, and put them on Paul. Casper and John soon led him out of the woods. Paul's father and mother had been out all night in search of their son, and had given him up as lost. They thought he had fallen into the river, and was drowned.
17. When the mother saw Casper and John leading her child home, she could scarcely speak; and, when he leaped into her arms, she fell into a swoon. Paul's father was greatly rejoiced to see his son. He took John up into his arms, and pressed him to his heart, for saving his lost child.
18. "I offered a hundred pounds reward to any one who would find him, dead or alive," said his father. "You shall have the hundred pounds, my brave little man; and I will give you the best pony in my stable."
19. "What for?" asked John.
20. "Why, for being such a brave little boy, and saving the life of my son," replied Paul's father.
21. "No!" said John. " I shall never forget Paul's kindness to me the first day I went to school, and one good turn deserves another."
22. No one could prevail on John to receive a reward for performing his duty. From that time, he and Paul were firm friends, and grew up together like brothers. Paul became a very rich man, and John was his steward.
23. We should never despise any person, however humble his condition may be; but treat all persons with kindness, and endeavor to gain their favor and esteem; for we know not how soon we may stand in need of their assistance.

1. I asked a boy what he was doing; "Nothing, kind sir," said he to me: "By nothing well and long pursuing, nothing," said I, "you'll surely be."
2. I asked a youth what he was thinking; "Nothing," said he, "I do declare:" "Many," said I, "in taverns drinking, by idle minds were carried there."
3. There's nothing great, there's nothing wise, which idle minds and hands supply; those who all thought and toil despise, mere nothings live, and nothings die.
4. A thousand naughts are not a feather, when i a sum they all are brought; a thousand idle lads together, are still but nothings joined to naught.
5. And yet of merit they will boast, and pompous seem and haughty; but still, �etis ever plain to most, that "nothing" boys are naughty.

�@Walter. I do not like Oliver Edson, and I will never play with him again, as long as I live.
�@Father. my son, what has happened to cause you to speak so unkindly of your playmate? I thought you Oliver were great friends.
�@Water. So we have been, father; but I do not like him now; for he got angry with me to-day, and struck me a severe blow on the head.
�@Father. Why did he strike you, my son? You and Oliver have always played together very peacefully.
�@Walter. Why, father, he and I were making an image out of snow, and, when it was finished. I told him, in fun, that I meant to knock it down. I took up a long pole, and swung it round, just to "make believe," and, by some means, it slipped out of my hands, struck the image, and knocked it all to pieces. But I did not mean to do it. He got very angry, and struck me with all his might.
�@Father. And what did you do, when he struck you?
�@Walter. Why, I struck him back again. "I gave him as good as he sent."
�@Father. What did he do, after you struck him? Did he attempt to strike you again?
�@Walter. No, indeed! he did not dare to. He doubled up his fist, as though he were going to strike me. He stopped a minute, then began to cry, and went home.
�@Father. If Oliver had struck you again, what would you have done?
�@Walter. Why, I should have struck him back again.
�@Father. My son, from your own statement, I think you are more to blame than Oliver. In the first place, it was wrong in you to pretend that you would knock down the image; and, in the next place, you told an untruth, in saying you meant to knock it down, when you did not intend to do so.
�@After you had told him you meant to knock the image down, you can not wonder that he should have believed you did it on purpose. You said you meant to do it, and then did do it. What better proof could he have of your intention.
�@Oliver became angry, and struck you, and you returned the blow. This was wrong in him, and much more so in you; for you had given him cause to feel provoked at your conduct, and you ought to have borne his blow, as a just punishment for what you had done. But, instead of this, yo made the matter worse by striking him back.
�@The fact that he did not return your blow, shows that he is a much better boy than you are; for you have just said, if he had struck you again, you would have returned the blow.
�@Water. Father, I see now that I was in the wrong. I am sorry I knocked the image down, and I was sorry the next moment after I did it.
�@Father. Then it was your duty to have told him so, at once; and, no doubt, he would have forgiven you.
�@Walter. I would have done so, if he had given me time to think; but he struck me before I had time to speak.
�@Father. But you have had time to think bout it since, and to speak to him; and yet you have just said that you did not like Oliver, and never meant to play with him again.
�@Walter. I was angry at him when I said that, father, and did not feel like speaking to him. But I do not think he will be friendly with me again, after what has happened.
�@Father. I have no doubt but that he feels sorry for what he has done, and is as anxious to make friendship with you again, as you are with him.
�@Walter. O father! if I thought he would forgive me, I would go at once, and ask his pardon for knocking down the image.
�@Father. That should not be your reason for asking his forgiveness. You should d so, because you are conscious that you have done him an injury. You ought not to think any thing about what he may say or do; but go and confess your fault, simply because you have done wrong. Surely, the least you can do it, to go and tell him you are sorry for what you have done.
�@Walter. Well, father, I will go and see him; but I do not think it will do any good. I do not believe he will ever speak to me again.
�@The two boys lived only a short distance from each other; and, as Walter came near the house, he saw Oliver seated on the back stoop, wiping his eyes, as though he had been weeping.
�@"Oliver," said he, holding out his hand, "I am sorry that knocked down the image; but I did not mean to do it; and I am sorry that I struck you."
�@"And I am sorry that I struck you," said Oliver, taking Walter by the hand. "I might have known you did not mean to knock down the image. But I was angry, and did not think what I was doing. I am glad you have come; for I wanted to tell you how sorry I was; for I was, and ask your forgiveness."
�@From that time, Walter and Oliver were firmer friends than ever. They frankly confessed they had done wrong, and forgave each other. And, besides, each learned to guard against the sudden impulse of anger, which so often separates real friends, and destroys their peace and happiness.

1. Little Mary was in the light-house alone. The night was coming on, and a storm was rising on the sea. She heard the waves dash against the rocks, and the wind moan around the tower.
2. Mary's father had trimmed the lamps, and they were ready for lighting when the evening came on. But, as he wanted to buy some food, he crossed the causeway which leads to the land.
3. This causeway was a pathway over the rocks and sands, which could only be passed for two or three hours in the day; at other times, the waters rose and covered it. The father intended to hasten home before it was dark, and before the tide flowed over the path to the shore.
4. He had told Mary not to be afraid; for he would soon return. But there were some rough-looking men behind a rock, who were watching Mary's father, and seemed glad as they saw him go to the land.
5. These men were wreckers. They waited about the coast, and, if a ship was driven by a storm on the rocks, they rushed down ? not to help the poor sailors ? but to rob them, and plunder the vessel.
6. These wicked men knew that there was only a little girl left in the light-house; and they had a plan to keep her father on the shore all night. Some ships, filled with rich goods, were expected to pass before the morning; and they thought that, should the lamps in the light-house not be lit, these vessels would run upon the rocks, and be wrecked; and then the goods would be their spoil.
7. Mary's father had filled his basket with bread and other things, and had prepared to return; for it would soon be time to light the lamps. As he drew nigh to the road leading to the causeway, the wreckers rushed from their hiding-place, and threw him on the ground.
8. They quickly bound his hands and feet with ropes, and carried him into a shed, there to lie till the morning. It was in vain that he cried to them to be set free; they only mocked his distress. They then left him in the charge of two men, while they ran back to the shore.
9. Mary looked from a narrow window in the light-house toward the shore, thinking it was time for her father to come back. The clock in the little room had just struck six, and she knew that the waters would soon rise up to the causeway. The clock struck seven, and Mary still looked toward the beach; but her father was not to be seen.
10. By the time it was eight, the tide was nearly over the pathway; only the tops of the largest rocks were above the waters, and they, too, were soon covered over. "Oh, father, make haste!" cried Mary, aloud, as though her father could hear her; "have you forgotten your little girl?"
11. Just at this moment, the thought came into her mind that she should try to light the lamps. But what could a little girl do? The lamps were far above her reach. She, however, got a few matchers, and made a light. The next thing was to carry a set of steps to the spot, and attempt to reach the lamps. But, after much labor, she found they were still above her head.
12. A small table was next brought from below, and Mary put the steps upon it, and mounted to the top with hope and joy; for now she was almost sure she could light the lamps. But no; though she stood on tiptoe, they were even yet a little higher than she could reach.
13. Poor Mary was about to sit down and weep, when she thought of a large book which her father used to read, in a room below. In a minute it was brought, and placed under the steps, which raised them just high enough for her to light the wicks; and the rays of the lamps shone brightly far over the dark waters.
14. All that stormy night, the lamps cast their rays over the foaming sea; and when the morning came, the wreckers had let the father loose from the shed. The water was again down from the causeway, and he soon had the pleasure of meeting his brave little Mary, and hearing her relate the trials and difficulties she had to pass through, while alone, during that stormy night, in the light-house.

1. Did you ever see a large oak tree standing all alone in a field? It is a grand sight. Mr. Barlow had just such a tree on his farm. Its large roots spread out far and wide, and some ran very deep in the ground.
2. Its broad branches and thick leaves made a good shade for the cattle and horses; and when the noon-day sun was too hot for them to feed, they would go and lie down under the shade of the old oak.
3. The little birds, also, would fly to this tree, and seek shelter from the burning rays of the sun. Sometimes they lodged all night among the thick branches, and sometimes they built their nests, and reared their young in the top of that old tree.
4. This oak was a favorite resort for the children. They had taken some boards, and made a seat on one side of the tree, and, on the other, they built a little children will conjure up for their amusement!
5. In the fall of the year, when the acorns began to drop from the tree, the children would gather them up, and set them in rows on the table in their play-house, and call them their cups and saucers.
6. Little did they think but that their pleasure would last forever. But children sometimes have to endure little losses, so that they may be the better prepared, in after life, to bear still greater ones. 
7. One day, a storm arose in the west, the rain fell in torrents, and the wind blew with such violence, that the old oak, that had stood firm for more than a hundred years, was forced to yield to the power of the tempest, and was laid prostrate on the ground.
8. Mr. Barlow was very sorry to lose the noble tree, and the children were sorry too; for they thought of the many happy hours they had spent together, playing under its broad branches, using its acorns for their little cups and saucers.

1. A few days after the storm, Mr. Barlow said, "Well, children, now that the old oak has fallen, we must try to make the best use of it we can. Would you like to go with me, this morning, and see it?
2. The children were much pleased to hear this; for they knew that their father always tried to make their rambles amusing and instructive. When they came to the spot, they found the old oak stretched out, at full length, on the ground, with its roots turned upwards, and their play-house crushed to pieces.
3. Two men were busy in peeling the thick, rough bark from the body of the tree, for the tannery; two others were sawing its trunk into logs for the saw-mill; while another was chopping the large limbs for fuel. Every part of the old oak could be applied to some useful purpose.
4. In a few minutes the men had sawed the trunk in two, and down went the stump into its bed. The children soon gathered around it. "Now," said Mr. Barlow, "which of you can tell where is the oldest part of this tree/ I mean the part which grew first, when it was a little tree.
5. "I can tell," said William; "in the middle." "Well, where is the middle,?" asked Mr. Barlow. "I can find the middle," said James. "I will take the longest measure across the stump with my bow-string, and then one half the length of the string will just reach from the outside to the middle."
6. "I think that is the middle," said Helen, placing her finger upon a little dark spot; "for, you see there is a small ring around it; then another ring still larger; and then another, and another, and so on, to the outside of  the stump.
7. "Oh, I see it now!" said all the children at the same time. "Yes," said Mr. Barlow; Helen is right. That little spot is the middle, or where the tree first began to grow, and each ring is a year's growth. By counting these rings, you can find out the age of the tree.
8. "Oh, let us count the rings!" said William, "and then we shall know the age of the old oak." They all began to count; but soon found it no easy matter. The rings were so numerous, and the spaces between them so very narrow, that they could hardly distinguish them.
9. When the children had finished counting the rings, Mr. Balow asked each one to tell him the number. Helen said she counted one hundred and ninety-seven, James said he could only make out one hundred and ninety-five, and William said he made the number one hundred and ninety-six.
10. "Well, children," said Mr. Barlow, "you have, no doubt, found out, very nearly, the age of the tree; for I have always supposed the tree to be nearly two hundred years old. And here is a little acorn which I picked from one of the boughs of the tree. Let us examine it.
11. He removed the shell, and kernel separated into two parts. Between these pieces was a little white speck, which Mr. Barlow placed on the point of this knife, saying, "There, children, you can now see the germ of the young oak."
12. The children looked at it through a microscope, and distinctly saw a little, slender rot, and two tiny leaves. "This large oak," said Mr. Barlow, "was once a little white speck, like this, shut up in an acorn shell, and I have shown it to you, that all may see what "tall oaks from little acorns grow."
13. "Now, I wish you to understand," said he, "how the small, white speck became a large tree. It was by adding a little to its size, every year. The first year it was not over a foot in hight. When it was ten or twelve years old, a child could have bent it to the ground. But it kept steadily on, adding one more ring to its size, each year, till it became a majestic tree. 
14. "This is the way, and the only way to become wise and learned. You must add a little to your knowledge, every day. The wisest men and women were once children, like you; and, if you would become wise, like them, you must do as they did, and improve each day.
15. "Do not waste a day, because it is only a day. If the oak had said, in the spring, �eWhat is the use of putting forth ten thousand leaves, for the sake of adding one little ring to my size?' and so stood still all summer, do you think it would ever have become such a mighty tree?
16. "Remember, then, my dear children, to add something to your store of learning, every day. Never return home from school, without bringing, at least, one new ring of knowledge with you. It is in this way only you can become wise and learned."

1.  "Little by little," an acorn said, as it slowly sank in its mossy bad, "I am improving every day,  Hidden deep in the earth away."
2. Little by little, each day it grew; little by little, it sipped the dew; downward it sent out a throat-like root; up in the air sprung a tine shoot.
3. Day after day, and year after year, little by little the leaves appear; and the slender branches  spread far and wide, till the mighty oak is the forest's pride.
4. Far down in the depths of the dark blue sea, an insect train work ceaselessly. Grain by grain, they are building well, each one alone in its little cell.
5. Moment by moment, and day by day, never stopping to rest or to play, rocks upon rocks, they are rearing high, till the top looks out on the sunny sky.
6. The gentle wind and the balmy air, little by little, bring verdure there; till the summer sunbeams gayly smile on the buds and the flowers of the coral isle.
7. "Little by little," said a thoughtful boy, "Moment by moment, I'll well employ, learning a little every day, and not spending all my time in play and still rule in my mind shall dwell, whatever I do, I will do it well.
8. "Little by little, I'll learn to know the treasured wisdom of long ago; and one of these days, perhaps, we'll see that the world will be the better for me;" and do you not think that this simple plan made him a wise useful man?

1. Early one summer morning, as the sun was shining brightly on the fields, and the birds were singing gayly among the trees, a little green worm set out to seek for a breakfast, creeping along the path in a shady lane.
2. It was a very pretty little insect. It had seven bright yellow stripes across its back, and seven round spots of the same color on each side. It had, also, sixteen little legs to carry itself along, wherever it wished to go.
3. While this beautiful worm was creeping along in the shady lane, a little, chirping sparrow flew out of the bushes also, in search of a morning meal. The little worm would have made a good breakfast for the sparrow; and it was well for it, that the bird did not look that way.
4. But the sparrow flew away, and the pretty green insect turned aside, and crept over the turf to the foot of an old oak tree, where grew some young shoots, with fresh and tender leaves.
5. This was just the kind of food the little green worm had been seeking. There was nothing it liked so well as these tender leaves; and it began to feast on them without delay.
6. For many days, the little creature staid in this pleasant lane, content with its food, and happy in the warm sunshine. At last, it crept away from the old oak tree, and, after looking about for some time, found a snug little hole in the side of an old gate post that was standing in the lane.
7. As soon as the little green worm found this nice hiding-place in the old gate post, it began to be quite busy making itself a house. This it did very much in the same manner that the spider spins its web.
8. All day long, the little insect was hard at worm, laying the silken threads across each other, one by one; and, before the next morning, it had made a house, and shut itself close within.
9. The shape of the house was long and narrow; it was closed at both ends, and it hung against the old gate post by a tiny string made of a few twisted threads. There was neither door nor window to the house, and you would have been puzzled to know how the insect got in, or how he could ever get out.
10. For nearly a month, the little worm was shut up close in this snug house. it never came out to seek for food, or to enjoy the sunshine. But, one very warm day, there was little movement inside the house, and the thin wall began to crack and spread apart.
11. At last, one end was quite open, and then crept out, -- not the little green worm, -- but a gay insect of graceful form, with wings of shining purple, spotted with other colors, -- black, brown, white, and red.
12. The pretty insect lingered a little while in the warm sunshine, on the tip of the gate post; then it spread its purple wings, and flew it came to a lovely garden, where it paused to sip honey from the sweet flowers.
13. But where was the little green worm that made the house, and shut itself up so snugly? That creeping worm and that gay butterfly were the same. God, who made all things, caused the wondrous change. How great are His wisdom and power! There shall no evil happen to us, if we have Him for our Father and Friend.
14. Butterfly, with painted wing,
	In the sunshine dancing wing, you were once a meaner thing, slowly creeping on the  ground. Now, how wondrous is the change! From flower to flower you gayly range, and o'er mead and mossy hill, you can wander where you will.

1. When I was about nine years of age, I heard a kind father say to his son, "I might have been much better off than I now am, if it had not been for one great fault, that always kept me back in life.
2. "The fault was this: whenever I set my mind upon doing any thing, or formed any good resolution, although I generally began with great zeal, I never would continue to the end.
3. "When I was quite a small boy, I saw a pretty little book lying in a shop-window, that I very much wished to have; so I resolved to save up all the pennies I received, until I had collected enough to make the purchase.
4. "I had scarcely made up half the required amount, when, one day, as I was sitting by the window, a man came to our house selling birds. The idea of keeping a bird of my own, delighted me so much, that I gave all my money in exchange for one.
5. "It pleased me for a short time to see cage, and hear it sing; but, to my great sorrow, it died within a week after it came into the house, and I longed, in vain, for the little book I had so foolishly lost; because, after setting out in the right way to obtain it, I did not continue to the end.
6. "When I was about fourteen years of age, I heard one of my schoolmates playing so beautifully on a flute, that I felt as though I should never be happy, till I learned to play on one myself.
7. "After some time, my father was kind enough to buy me one; but he was very much grieved, a month afterward, to find I did not wish to practice any longer, and had put flute away.
8. "'Oh, my boy!' he exclaimed, sadly shaking his head, �eI fear you will never get along very well in the world; you always begin well enough; but that is of no use, unless you continue to the end.'
9. "When I became a man, and went into business for myself, I resolved to give up my evil habits, and work busily at my trade; but I soon learned that bad habits are more easily learned than got rid of, and scarcely more than two years had passed, before I had broken all my good resolutions, and brought myself to ruin and disgrace.
10. "When I found myself cast upon the world, without a friend to give me advice or comfort, I began to ask wisdom of Him �ethat giveth to all me liberally, and upbraideth not,' to keep me from every evil habit, and enable me to carry out all my good intentions."
11. Bear in mind, my young friends, that no undertaking, however well begun, will ever be successful, unless it is continued to the end.
If you would have success
Your labors to attend, 
This motto on your heart impress:
Continue to the end.

1. A little boy, named John Smeaton, was in the habit of watching the men while at their work. He would often ask how one part was to be fitted to another, and how the thing was to be used when complete.
2. If money was given him to buy cakes or toys, he chose rather to spend it for tools; and with them he made little sleds, carts, and wagons. One day, he made a small wind-mill, and placed it on the top of his father's house.
3. When John Smeaton became a man, he contrived many useful things. He found out a better way, than had been before known, of making mills to be turned by wind or water.
4. He built a tall light-house on the top of a rock in the sea, which serves as a lantern to show sailors the way they should steer their vessels, so as to avoid the rocks, the sand bars, and other dangers that await them.
5. By this means, many vessels have escaped being wrecked, many lives have been saved, and many people have had reason to be glad that John Smeaton was a diligent and attentive boy.
6. Another little boy, named Isaac Newton, lived on a farm, and was often sent to watch the sheep and cattle, and to assist in driving them to market.
7. But, while he was thus employed, he tried, also, to obtain knowledge, and was much pleased when he was permitted to go to school.
8. He amused himself by making a windmill, and wooden clock. One time, he was found on a hay-loft, with his slate and pencil, trying to work out a difficult problem.
9. One day, as he was in the orchard, he saw an apple fall from a tree. Many boys would have only picked it up and eaten it. But Isaac Newton began to think how and why it was, that, when the stem broke, the apple fell to the ground.
10. By thinking about this common occurrence, Isaac Newton was led to find out more than was ever known before, about how the sun, moon, stars, and earth, keep their proper places, and move about in such regular order.
11. This led him to admire and adore the wisdom and goodness of God, who created them, and caused them to revolve with such wonderful exactness and harmony.
12. As you become older, it will be interesting to you to learn what this great man discovered, and the use he made of the knowledge which he gained by attentively observing the objects around him.

1. Who has seen Robin Redbreast, on a bright sunshiny morning, early in the spring, when the frost was yet on the ground, and heard him utter forth a feeble song of praise, as if grateful for the return of spring?
2. I have seen Robin Redbreast, on a bright sunny morning, in early spring, when the ground was yet covered with snow, and heard him warble forth his sweet song of praise, as if grateful that the winter was over and gone.
3. Who has seen Robin Redbreast with his mate, flying from shrub to shrub, and tree to tree, peeping into every curious place to find a secure spot, where they may build their nest, and rear their young?
4. I have seen Robin Redbreast with his mate, flying from bush to bush, and hedge to hedge, peeping into every nook and corner, as if seeking a good place to build their nest, and rear their young, where they might not be disturbed by cruel boys.
5. Who has seen Robin Redbreast with his mate, hopping along on the ground, and picking up sticks, and moss, and wool, and hair, to make their snug little nest soft and worm?
6. I have seen Robin Redbreast with his mate, hopping along on the ground, and picking up sticks, and moss, and wool, and hair, to make their snug little nest soft and warm; and, after it was done, I have peeped in, and seen four blue eggs in it too.
7. Who has seen Robin Redbreast fly over the garden-wall, and hop along the furrow, behind the farmer's and then fly quickly back to feed the young robins in the nest?
8. I have seen Robin Redbreast fly over the garden-wall, hop along the furrow, behind the farmer's, to pick up the little worms, and then fly quickly back to the nest to feed the young robins. And I have seen the young birds stretch up their necks, and open their mouths, when the old bird came to feed them.
9. Who has seen Robin Redbreast, when the cherries were ripe, fly with his mate and young brood to the old cherry-tree, to get their share of the fruit, which they saved by destroying the worms and insects before the fruit was ripe?
10. I have seen Robin Redbreast with his mate and young brood, fly to the old cherry-tree, when the cherries were ripe, to get their share of the fruit, which they saved by destroying the worms and insects that would have destroyed the cherries.
11. Who has seen Robin Redbreast, at the close of a long summer day, just as the sun was about to set, perch himself upon the topmost bough of some tall tree, and heard him sing his evening song, before he folded his head under his wing, and went to sleep?
12. I have seen Robin Redbreast, just as the sun was about to set , at the highest branch of a tall tree, and heard him carol forth his evening song, before he folded his head under his wing, and went to sleep.
13. Who, when reading a book in the summer-arbor, has heard Robin Redbreast singing as though he would burst his little throat? and who has not ceased reading till his song was ended, and he flew away, -- a cheerful and happy bird?
14. I, while seated in the summer-arbor, reading a book, have heard Robin Redbreast singing so loud and sweet, that I have dropped the book in my lap. to listen to his cheerful song. And, when I saw how happy he was, I clapped my hands, and said, "Surely the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord!"

1. Once , on a time, some little hands planted a garden on the sands; and, with a wish to keep it dry, they raised a wall five inches high.
2. Within the wall and round the walks, they made a fence of slender stalks; and then they formed an arbor cool, and dug in front of a tiny pool.
3. Their beds were oval, round, and square, thrown up and trimmed with decent care: in these they planted laurel twigs, and prickly holly, little sprigs of ash and poplar, and, for show, bright daffodils and heart's-ease low; with pink-edged daisies by the score, and buttercups and many more.
4. One rose they found with great delight, and set it round with lilies bright; this finished, then they went away, resolved to come another day.
5. The sea, meanwhile, with solemn roar, approached and washed the sandy shore; but, all this time, it did not touch the little spot they loved so much.
6. The strangers that were passing by, the garden viewed with smiling eye; but no one ventured to disturb an single plant, or flower, or herb.
7. Still, when the children came again, they found their labor all in vain; the flowers were drooping side by side, the rose and lilies, -- all had died. No one could make them grow or shoot, because they had not any root; and then the soil, it was so bad, they must have withered, if they had.
8. Now, so it is that children fail, just like the garden in this tale; they have good wishes, pleasant looks, are busy with their work and books; their conduct often gives delight, and one would fancy all was right; but, by and by, with sad surprise, we see how all this goodness dies; instead of being rich with fruit, they fade away for want of root.
9. Oh! pray that He who only can renew the heart of fallen man, may plant you in His pleasant ground, where trees of righteousness abound; so shall you be, in early youth, "Rooted and grounded in the truth."

  Charles. John White is the meanest boy that I ever saw.
   William. Why, what has John done to you, that you should accuse him so hardly?
   Charles. Done? He has done every thing. He is so ugly, I don't see how he lives.
   William. But what has he done? It is not right to talk so about one of our schoolmates without telling the reason; you might cause others to think him much worse than he is. Please tell us what dreadful thing he has done.
   Charles. He has stolen my new skates, and my nice silver pencil that uncle James gave me last summer.
   William. It seems to me, Charles, that you must be mistaken. John White is a scholar in our school, and I am loth to believe that he will steal. I have never know any of our scholars to do a thing so bad. 
   Charles. I do not believe that story. For I know more than a dozen of your school that will steal. At all events, John White has stolen, and I can prove it.
   William. Well, if you can prove it, I shall have to admit that he is guilty. But how can you prove it?
   Charles. Abel Frost saw him have the skates on.
   William. But they might have been some other skates; perhaps he has bought some new ones.
   Charles. No; Abel said he knew they were mine; and I have no doubt, that he took my pencil too; for I missed it this very morning, and, last night, he was with me at the lecture, and I thought I felt him put his hand into my pockets.
   William. Well, Charles, it may be so; but I can not believe that John is so bad a boy. He is in my class every day, and I never saw any thing bad in him.
   Charles. I do not think he is any better for being in your class; I know of a great many bad boys that go to your school.
   William. Will you tell me who they are? I am sure I never knew we had one bad boy in school. Will you tell their names?
   Charles. There is John White for one; and there is ? there is ? there are a great many.
   William. Well, who are they? If you know there are a great many, you can tell who some of them are.
   Charles. No matter who they are. I know them, and that's enough. But here comes Frank Rice. I wonder whose skates he has in his had.
   Enter Frank
   Frank. Good evening, boys. I have brought your skates home, Charles.
   Charles. My skates! Where did you get them? How came you by them?
   Frank. Why, your father lent them to me, yesterday. He said you wold have no time to skate till this evening, and I might take them, if I would be sure to bring them back in season for you.
   Charles. But why did you let John White have them? I heard he had them to-day.
   Frank. That was a mistake, Charles. John has not seen them, and he would not have wanted them, if he had; for he has a new pair of his own.
   William. There, what think you now, Charles, about John White? Do you think him the meanest boy you ever saw, as you said just now?
   Charles. Well, it seems he did not steal my skates; but I know he has my pencil.
   William. Do not be so sure, Charles; you may be mistaken in that, also; I think you are.
   Frank. What is it about his pencil? I found one, just below here. Have you lost your pencil, Charles?
   Charles. Yes; John White stole it out of my pocket, last night.
   Frank. What kind of pencil was it?
   Charles. It was a small silver pencil, with a red stone in the end of it.
   Frank. (Take out the pencil.) Is that it, Charles?
   Charles. Yes; that is the very pencil. Where did you find it?
   Frank. Just this side of Lyceum Hall.
   Charles. There, now I know when I lost it. I pulled it out of my pocket, when I took out my mittens.
   William. Charles, do you not feel ashamed of yourself, for accusing John White so unjustly and wickedly?
   Charles. Yes; I do. But then I certainly thought he had stolen it.
   Frank. John White steal! I am astonished that you should ever think of such a thing. He is one of the best and most conscientious boys I ever knew. We have no thieves in our school.
   William. So I told him; but he would not believe me. He says he know of a great many bad boys in our school.
   Frank. Can he tell us who they are?
   William. I asked him to tell. He began, and got as far as John White, -- and he could not name another one.
   Charles. I own I was wrong to accuse John White as I did; but I certainly thought he had stolen both my skates and my pencil.
   William. Do you not see how much injury you might have done him, by going round and repeating that story? Some people might have believed it, and called that good boy a thief. Have you told anyone else about it?
   Charles. Yes; I told two or three boys; but I do not think they believe it.
   Frank. Well, Charles, if you are hones, you will go and tell those boys you were wrong, and that John White is innocent.
   Charles. Yes; I will. I hope John will not hear of this; for, if he should, he would be very angry with me.
   Frank. No; he would not be angry. He is too god a boy. He would feel grieved; but his innocence would make him happy.
   William. I hope, Charles, this will be a good lesson to you. Never accuse another of any wrong, until you know he is guilty. I wish you now to say, if you really know a bad boy in our school.
   Charles. No, I do not. I was angry when I said there were a great many bad boys there. I did not consider what I was saying.
   William. If, then, you believe that all in our school are good boys, I hope you will soon become one of our happy number.

1. A short time since, we witnessed a noble and generous act, on the part of a boy, which deserves to e recorded for the benefit of many young people, who are too apt to treat aged and infirm persons with neglect, and, sometimes, even with disrespect.
2. Riding down the street in a city omnibus, we found one of our companions to be an old lady, who did not seem to have traveled a great deal, and who was afraid she would not be able to find the ticket-office, where she wished to take passage for her home.
3. She had a carpet-bag in one hand, a small basket in the other, and, on the top of the omnibus, was a well-filled trunk, too heavy for her to carry.
4. The driver stopped opposite the street where she was to find the ticket-office. While she was going down the steps with her carpet-bag and basket, and the driver was taking her trunk from the top of the omnibus, and placing it on the side-walk, two noble-looking boys, about twelve years of age, came driving their hoops down the street.
5. Observing that the old lady had no one to assist her, and that she appeared not to know which way to go, the larger boy caught his hoop in his hand, and respectfully inquired what she wanted. She told him she wished to find the ticket-office, and wanted to get her trunk there.
6. Quick as thought, he put his hoop and stick into his companion's hand, and, grasping the trunk, said, in a cheerful tone, "I will show you the way, and carry your trunk to the ticket-office." "Bless you, my dear boy," replied the old lady, "I have nothing to pay you for your trouble."
7. "I do not wish any thing," was the prompt and noble reply; and he went on with his burden, talking cheerfully with the infirm old lady, who followed him with her thanks.
8. The conduct of the kind-hearted boy drew forth expressions of approbation from the lips of the passengers, and tears were in our eyes as the omnibus passed on, and hid the noble boy and his tottering companion from our sight. 
9. It was a simple incident, and one which, perhaps, may be thought too trifling to mention; but we have thought of it a score of times with pleasure and profit. We have felt kinder and more hopeful, whenever that scene has risen to our memory.
10. We had never seen that boy before, we may never see him again; we know not who he is, and we may never know. But his noble, manly bearing, his respect for an infirm, old lady whom he had never before seen, his prompt and generous act of kindness, -- all bespeak the goodness of his heart; and, if he lives, we expect that he will lead a useful and benevolent life.
11. How different was the conduct of this noble boy from that of many young persons whom we have know, who laugh at the weakness of old age, and seem to get as far away as possible from the place where help is needed, that they may not be called on to do an act of kindness!

1. The selfish boy is one who loves himself solely, and nobody else. He does not care whom he deprives of enjoyment, so that he can obtain it. Should he have any thing given him, he is not willing that others should share with him, but will keep it all to himself.
2. The selfish boy is fond of playthings; but he does not like to have any body tough them. "You shall not roll my hoop; you shall not touch my bat; you shall not fly my kite," and such like expressions, are constantly on his tongue.
3. He is ever on the watch, to find out if any one has been even near his things. He is restless, anxious, and fearful, lest some body should rob him; because the selfish boy is covetous, and he thinks that every body will take from him.
4. When at school, if he happens to write a good line, he holds his hand over it, so that no one may copy it. When he has worked out a problem, he conceals it, for fear any one should be benefited by knowing how it was done; not that it is right always to show others how to perform their work; but this is not his motive.
5. He obtains knowledge, perhaps works hard for it; but he has no desire to impart it to others. If he should see a fine sight at the window, he calls for no one to share his delight; but feels a pleasure in being able to say, "I saw it; but you did not."
6. The selfish boy can not see the good of any thing, unless he is to be the gainer in some way or other. When his interests are concerned, you will see him all attention, although he was so sluggish just before. He sees, in a moment, what will be to his own advantage, and is , therefore, an adept at making bargains.
7. He knows well how to disparage any thing that belongs to others. If it be a knife, he will pretend the spring is weak, and point out all the faults he possibly can; but when he has made a good bargain, how he rubs his hands, and chuckles over it!
8. The selfish boy is a great cheat. When he plays marbles, he takes care, when no one sees him, to push his ally nearer to the ring; and when he makes a false shot, he pretends that he was not in earnest, on purpose to get another. When the game is going against him, he will pretend he has hurt his knee or knuckle, and can not play any more.
9. The selfish boy is a great braggart. He often says, "I have this," and "I have that." "Ay, you do know how much money I have in my saving-box!" Sometimes he hints that his father is very rich, and he shall have a large fortune left him when the old gentleman is dead; and he does not seem to care how soon he dies.
10. His whole life is a sort of scramble; if any thing is to be given away, he is the first to cry out, for fear he should lose his share, and the first to grumble when he obtains it. If another boy happens to receive a better apple, or a larger cluster of grapes than himself, he murmurs at it, and thinks he is unjustly treated. He always looks out for the best of every thing, and thinks he has a right to it.
11. Poor boy! he thinks the world was made for him. He never thinks of others. It is no pleasure for him to see others happy; nay, he would sooner see his dearest friend suffer, than deprive himself of any thing.
12. If he does not want a thing, he can not bear that any body else should enjoy it. Thus, he is like the dog in the manger, and snaps and snarls at every one who comes near him. If he continues thus, till he becomes a man, he will be shunned and despised by all who know him.

1.  "Sophia Lawton was the poorest girl that went to our school. She wore a calico dress, a coarse, blue apron, and clumsy, leather shoes. Her father was dead, and her mother could not afford to pay for her tuition.
2. "Sophia used to come early in the morning, kindle the fire, sweep the room, and dust off the girls' desks; and, in this way, she earned her education.
3. "If we had not all been very proud and foolish girls, we should have respected Sophia all the more for this very thing. It was brave and noble in her; and there was not another girl in school, who would have had the courage and patience to do such work for the sake of an education.
4. "But we did not think of it in this way. We looked down upon her, and, instead of treating her kindly, and so making it easier for her, we were always saying or doing something to hurt her feelings. But we were soon made ashamed of our conduct.
5. "Sophia had been a little late in getting to school, one morning, and had not quite finished her work. She was dusting Miss Adams' desk, when Julia, Kate, and myself came into the school-room together.
6. "We were three great friends, and now, that Sophia was all alone, we thought it a good time to vex and torment her. One snatched away her scrubbing-duster, and shook it in her face and eyes.
7. "Sophia bore all this very patiently as long as she could; but it was getting late, and she knew that Miss Adams would be displeased, if every thing were not in order, when she arrived.
8. "Kate saw that the teacher's desk was unlocked, and she declared she meant to open it, and take a peep at Miss Adams' treasures. Sophia sprang to the desk, and told her she could not allow any one to open it, while it was in her charge.
9. "'I should like to see you try to hinder me!' said Kate. �eWho are you, I wonder, to dare say we shan't do what we like? cried another. �ePull the impudent thing down,' said a third, �eand Kate may look into the desk as much as she pleases.'
10. "At the word, Sophia was pulled down from the platform by the three girls; but, in doing it, Julia's elbow hit the inkstand, which rolled from the desk, and spilled its black contents on the carpet. The girls let go Sophia's arm, and stood in silence and dismay at the mischief they had done.
11. "Just at that moment, Miss Adams came into the room. Seeing Sophia trying to wipe off the ink, she reproved her very sharply, and told her that unless she could be more careful in future, she would supply her place by some one more trustworthy.
12. "Sophia burst into tears at the rebuke of her kind teacher. It seemed too much to be borne; and she was tempted to tell the whole story, and let the blame fall where it belonged. But she called to mind the text, �eBe not overcome by evil; but overcome evil with good.'
13. "This calmed her feeling, and she meekly said, �eMiss Adams, it was an accident. I am very sorry, and will try never to let it happen again; and then went home for some water and a clean cloth, to wash out the ugly stains.
14. "This noble conduct of Sophia Lawton made us three girls feel more deeply than any thing that had ever happened to us. The poor child whom we had despised and ill-treated, had put us all to shame.
15. "We went, of our own accord, to the teacher, and told her the exact truth, and confessed to her, that we alone were to blame for the mischief; and when Sophia came back, we humbly asked her pardon for our unkind treatment.
16. We should never despise the condition of those who are less favored than ourselves. The poor have to endure many hardships, and we should try, at all times, to do them all the good we can.

1. Mr. Bondman was a wealthy gentleman, who resided in the country. He had a fine garden around his beautiful mansion, which he was busily engaged in improving, and adoring with flowers and fruit trees.
2. One evening, as he was sitting in his library, looking over his books, and thinking of what he was to do the next day, the thought occurred to him that it would be a good plan for him to have a faithful boy to assist him.
3. He inquired into the characters and conduct of several boys in the neighborhood, for the purpose of finding a faithful and trusty boy to come and live with him. 
4. There were three boys, with he was much pleased, any of whom, he thought would suit him. Their names were Norman, Lemuel, and Theodore. They had been very well educated, and were fine-looking boys.
5. Mr. Bondman sent for them all to come and see him at the same time, so that he could talk with them together. They all came and stood before him in his library. He asked them a great many questions, and seemed quite pleased with their answers.
6. At last, he said to them, "Well, boys, I like you all. Any one of you would do for me, I think, very well; though there is one point more, which I wish to ascertain. I want a good, safe boy, -- one who will not do mischief by his carelessness.
7. "Suppose, now, Norman, I were to send you into a room after a book, in the evening, how near the curtains would you dare carry the lamp, and be sure you would not set them on fire?" Norman said, "I think I should dare go within a foot of the curtains, and not be in the least danger of setting them on fire."
8. "Well, Lemuel," said Mr. Bondman, "how near would you dare go?" Lemuel, who wished to surpass Norman in-respect-to dexterity in escaping danger, said, "I think I should dare go within six inches." As he said this aloud, he thought within himself, "I do not believe that Theodore will dare go nearer than that."
9. Now, Theodore," said Mr. Bondman, "how near would you dare go?" "I should not dare go near the curtains, at all, sir," said Theodore; "I should keep as far away from them as I possibly could." "Ah,!! said Mr. Bondman, in a tone of great satisfaction, "you are the boy for m2." So he engaged Theodore.
10. Boys should always adopt the principle which Theodore acted upon, in this case. Keep as far from danger as you possibly can. Instead of seeing how near you dare go to it, see how far you can keep away from it.
11. In driving a wagon or a coach, keep as far as possible away from other carriages which you have to pass. In skating on the ice, never venture where there is the least danger of being drowned; and never ascend ladders, or climb upon roofs of houses, unless you have some useful purpose to accomplish by so doing. 

1.  "What are those pretty yellow things that look like little flowers with wings? They dance about this way and that, -- I'll try to catch one in my hat.
2. "Now I shall have it, -- no! �etis gone; I'll run a little farther on. Now, now I'll have you, pretty thing! No! see it yonder on the wing.!
3. "It seems resolved to get away; but I will at a distance stay until settles on a flower. and then �et will be within my power.
4. "Its pretty, glancing wings more slower, its little body settles lower; and now, �et is on a clover top: this time I'll surely have you ? pop!
5. "and now, my little butterfly, I've got you, and you need not try to get away. I'll take a peep, to see if snug and still you keep.
6. "But here's no butterfly! Oh, me! Where can the little truant be? I see it now, how, far, away., dancing along so light and gay, as if to mock me; surely I can catch a silly butterfly."
7. He ran, he snatched with eager clasp, -- �et was caught, and died within his grasp. He looked upon his act with shame, and bitterly himself did blame; then dropped the little, lifeless thing, and do his home went sorrowing, resolved, upon another day, to be more gentle in his play.

1. How many little girls and boys there are, who are not content with their happy lot! Such was the case with Alida Foster and Cornelia Vincent.
2. Alida was a poor girl, who lived in the country; but Cornelia was the daughter of a wealthy gentleman, who lived in a splendid mansion in the village. Cornelia was lame, and had not walked for several years.
3. Alida had been to school all the week, and, on Saturday afternoon, her mother told her she might go into the fields, and gather some flowers to make a bouquet.
4. She was highly delighted with the idea of going where she wished. She took her basket, and rambled over the little hills and dales, gathering the flowers which most pleased her fancy.
5. Sometimes she wandered along the rippling stream, and listened to the songs of the merry birds. Sometimes she chased the gay butterfly, and then paused awhile to seek some flower whose gaudy colors met her eye. Wherever her light heart prompted her to go, her nimble feet carried her.
6. As Alida came near the road, she saw a splendid carriage pass by, with no one in it but a little girl of about her own age. A driver sat in front, guiding the sleek horses in their gilded harness.
7. When the girl wished the carriage to stop, the driver instantly checked the horses; when she wished to go forward, they started at her word. A footman was on his "stand" behind, ready to do her bidding.
8. If the little girl saw a flower in the field, or a pebble by the road-side, she had only to speak, and the carriage stopped, while the footman ran to bring it. She seemed to have no wish which was not gratified.
9. As Alida looked at the carriage, her heart sunk within her, her feet lost their lightness, her spirits their gayety, and her face its smiles. She walked sadly along, and, with sour looks and pouting lips, she entered her humble home.
10. "Have you not had a pleasant walk, my daughter?" asked her mother.
11. "Oh, no"" said Alida. "I should have enjoyed it very much; but Cornelia Vincent came along in her father's carriage, and when I saw how happy she appeared, with the coachman and footman to wait on her, and remembered that I was a poor girl, and must always go on foot, and wait upon myself, I could hardly keep from crying.
12. "If she wanted any thing, she had only to speak, or point to it, and the footman instantly ran and brought it to her. But, if I saw any thing I wanted, I must go and get it myself. I will never walk out by that road again."
13. The next week, Mrs. Foster called on Mrs. Vincent. After talking a few minutes, she said, "How did Cornelia enjoy her ride, on Saturday afternoon?"
14. "She would have enjoyed it very much," said Mrs. Vincent; "but, just as she came where she had the finest prospect, she saw a little girl skipping about the fields, with a basket on her arm, filled with the most beautiful flowers.
15. "She watched her happy movements, as she ran wherever her fancy led her, and when she remembered that she could never enjoy herself thus, she said she could scarcely refrain from weeping.
16. "'You can not think,' said she, �ehow sad it is to feel that I must be lifted into the carriage whenever I wish to take the air; and when I see a pretty flower, I must wait till some one can go and fetch it tome.
17. "'I watched the happy girl for a few minutes, as she bounded along so gayly among the flowers, and then I told the footman to bring me a few daisies which grew by the road-side; but I soon threw them away; for I could not bear to look at them.'
18. "She directed the coachman to drive home, that the sight of pleasure which she could not enjoy, might no longer aggravate her feelings.
19. "When the footman brought her in, and placed her on the sofa, she laid her head upon my lap, and wept for some time. �eMother,' said she, �eI will never ride out by those fields again.'"
20. How often do we envy the happiness of others, when, if their real condition were know, we should have more reason to pity, than to envy them!

1.  "Here are two rules for you, James," said Miles Warner, looking up from the paper he was reading, and addressing a younger brother, who was sitting by the stove, playing with a favorite dog.
2. "Well, what are they? let us have them," said James, suspending his sport with the dog.
3. The first is, �eNever get vexed with any thing you can help.' The second is, �eNever get vexed with any thing you can not help.'"
4. "Are not these rules as applicable to you as to me?" inquired James, archly.
5. "No doubt they are," replied Miles, good-humoredly; "but, the, it is so much easier to hand over a piece of good advice to another, than to keep it for one's own use. It is a kind of generosity that does not require any self-denial. But what say you to these rules? How would it work, if we should adopt them?"
6. "I think they take a pretty wide range," said James. "They do not leave any chance to get vexed, at all."
7. "That might be an objection to them," said Miles, "if any one were wiser, better, or happier for getting vexed. I think they are sensible rules. It is foolish to vex ourselves about any thing that can be helped, and it is useless to vex ourselves about what can not be helped. Let us assist each other to remember and obey these two simple rules. What say you?
8. "I will agree to it," said James, who was usually ready to agree to any thing his brother proposed, if it was only proposed good-humoredly.
9. "That is too bad!" exclaimed James, the next morning, while preparing for school.
10. "What is the matter?" inquired Miles.
11. "I have broken my shoe-string," said James, "and it is vexatious; I am in such a hurry."
12. "It is vexatious; no doubt," replied Miles; "but you must not get vexed; for this is one of the things that can be helped. You can find a string in the upper drawer of mother's bureau.
13. "But we shall be late at school, if I stop to do that," said James.
14. "No, I think not," said Miles. "We shall only have to walk a little faster. Besides, if you keep cool, you will find the string, and put it in much sooner than you can, if you become vexed, and worry about it."
15. "That is true," said James, as he started for the string, quite restored to good humor again.
16. In the evening, Miles broke the blade of his jack knife, while whittling a piece of hard wood.
17. "It can not be helped," said James, "so you must not get vexed about it."
18. "It might have been helped," said Miles; "but I can do better than to fret about it. I can learn a lesson of care for the future, which may, some day, save a knife more valuable than this. These rules work well. Let us try them to-morrow.
19. The next morning, James devoted an hour before school to writing a composition. After he had written half a dozen lines, his mother called him to do something for her.
20. During his absence, his sister Lucy made use of his pen and ink to write her name in a school-book. In doing this, she carelessly let fall a drop of ink on the page he was writing. James returned while she was busily employed in doing what she could to repair the mischief.
21. "There, you have made a great blot on my composition," he exclaimed, looking over he shoulder.
22. "I am very sorry, James. I did not mean to do it," said Lucy.
23. James was so vexed that he would have answered his sister very roughly, if Miles had not kindly reproved him.
24. "Take care, James; you know the thing is done, and can not be helped."
25. James tried quite hard to suppress his angry feeling. "I know it was an accident," he said pleasantly, after a brief struggle with himself.
26. Lucy left the room, and James sat down again to his composition. After a moment, he looked up. "No great harm has been done, after all," he said. "Two or three changes only are needed, and, if I write my composition over again, I can make them."
27. "So much for a cool head, and not getting vexed," said Miles, laughing. "Our rules work well."
28. That afternoon, James tore his pantaloons, while climbing over a fence. "That is too bad," said he.
29. "It can be helped," said Miles; "they can be mended."
30. "The way to help it is what troubles me," said James. "I do not like to ask mother; she has so much to do."
31. Miles proposed that James should ask Lucy to mend them for him, as her mother had taught her to sew very neatly. James was, at first, not disposed to adopt this measure. He knew that Lucy dislike mending very much, and was afraid she would be cross, if asked to do it; but he, at last, decided to run the risk of that.
32. They found Lucy busily employed with a piece of fine needle-work. When James saw how his sister was occupied, he said, "I wish to ask a great favor of you, Lucy; but I fear I have come in the wrong time."
33. Lucy looked up from her work, and said, "What do you want, James?"
34. "I am almost afraid to tell you," said he. "It is too bad ask you to leave that nice work to do what you dislike."
35. "You are a great while in telling what you want," said Lucy, laughing. "Come, out with it at once."
36. James held out his foot, and showed the rent in his pantaloons, which Lucy soon mended in a very neat manner.
37. "Thank you, dear sister," said James. "When I saw what you were about, I did not think you would be willing to leave your work, and do it."
38. "MY uncommon good-nature quite puzzles you, does it?" said Lucy, laughing. "I shall have to let you into a secret. To tell the truth, I have been thinking all day, what I could do for you in return for your not getting vexed with me for blotting your composition. So, now you have it."
39. "So much for our rules," exclaimed Miles. "They work to a charm."
40. "What rules do you mean?" inquired Lucy.
41. "We must tell her all about it," said James. They did tell her the result was, that she agreed to join them in trying the new rules.

1. There's a little mischief-making Elfin, who is ever nigh, thwarting every undertaking, and his name is By-and-by.
2. What we ought to do this minute, "Will be better done," he'll cry, "If to-morrow we begin it: "Put if off," says By-and-by.
3. Those who heed the treacherous wooing, will his faithless guidance rue: what we always put off doing, clearly we shall never do.
4. We shall reach what we endeavor, if on Now we more rely; but, unto the realms of Never, leads the pilot By-and-by.

1. Miss Carson, who taught a select school, told the large girls, one day, that a prize would be given to the one who should present the best specimen of drawing, at the close of the term.
2. Helen Stanley and Faith Merton had taken lessons in drawing, two terms, of an excellent teacher, who regarded them as about equal in skill; and it was doubtful which would receive the prize.
3. The girls were permitted to remain after school to work upon their drawings. One afternoon, as Faith Merton passing across the room, she accidentally overturned a glass of water that stood on Helen's desk, which sadly marred the beauty of her picture.
4. Helen flew into a passion, and said, in an angry tone of voice, "You did it on purpose, Faith Merton, so that I should lose the prize! You know you did; and I will never forgive you as long as I live!
5. "O Helen! how can you say so!" replied Faith. "You know it was an accident. Why will you not forgive me? You know I would not take the prize away from you for any thing." But Helen paid no attention to her earnest entreaties, and, in a few minutes, she rushed out of the room.
6. Helen Stanley and Faith Merton had been schoolmates for nearly three years; and, in all that time, had been firm friends. They sat together at the same desk, they studied the same lessons, and heartily shared each other's joys and sorrows.
7. Helen was quick and impulsive in temper, and many times would have suffered in consequence, had it not been for her friend. Faith was a gentle, thoughtful girl, ever kind and obliging to all about her; and thus had secured the love and esteem of all her associates.
8. Among all her schoolmates, there was not one so dear to her as Helen; and now that she had left her with such cruel and angry words upon her lips, her heart seemed ready to break. She drew her vail over her face to hide the tears she could not restrain, and walked slowly homeward.
9. Helen felt that she had done wrong. Conscience told her that she was unjust, and that she did not mean what she said; but she was then too angry to listen to conscience. Her violent passion brought on a severe headache, and she was glad to avail herself of the excuse to retire earlier than usual to her room.
10. She took up her Bible, as it was her nightly custom, to read a few verses before going to bed. It opened at the sixth chapter of Matthew's gospel, and she read until she came to these words:
11. "For, if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But, if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
12. She then shut the book and laid it on the table, saying in a low quick tone, "No; I can never forgive her!" That night, Helen Stanley, for the first time since she was a little child, laid her head on her pillow without offering up an evening prayer to her Father in Heaven.
13. As Helen left her room, the next morning, she saw one of the servants passing through the hall. "Kate," said she, "do you know whether mother has gone down?"
14. "Your mother is not at home," replied Kate. "Miss Faith Merton is dead! She was going home from school, last night, and a runaway horse knocked her down, and hurt her so badly that she lived but half an hour afterwards. As soon as your mother heard of it, she went to Mrs. Merton's, and has been gone all night.
15. Helen put on her bonnet, rushed out of the house, and, in five minutes afterwards, was standing in Mrs. Merton's parlor. "O mother!" she cried, as Mrs. Stanley entered the room, "only tell me it is not true! I can not, I will not believe it!"
16. "My dear Helen," said her mother, gently, "it is, indeed, too true! Our darling Faith has gone to be an angel in Heaven. Come with me, and see how beautiful she looks, even in death.
17. With trembling footsteps, Helen followed her mother up stairs, and it seemed as if her very heart stood still, as she entered the darkened chamber, and gazed upon the lovely face which was lying on the snow-white bed. Her features were so perfect and tranquil, and the smile around her mouth was so like that she had always worn in life, that it seemed almost as though she slept.
18. The young girl stood white and speechless, looking at the friend she had so lately seen in health and strength, until her mother said, slowly, "My daughter, the last words she speke were these: �eTell Helen I have always loved her dearly, and I did not mean to spoil her picture. She would not believe me this afternoon; but, perhaps, she will now that I am dying.'"
19. The, with a loud, moaning cry, Helen threw herself upon her knees by the bedside, exclaiming,
20. "Oh! my precious, darling Faith! She wanted me to forgive her, and I would not, and now she is dead!"
21. Helen is a woman grown now; but, in her portfolio, she keeps a faded, stained picture, and, as she shows it to her children, she says, with tears in her eyes, "May you never have such a terrible lesson as that, by which I learned the duty of forgiveness!"

1. If every living thing, and every shrub, and flower, had written upon it that God is good, and wise, and powerful, His goodness, wisdom, and power, would not be a tittle plainer to be seen than they are now.
2. What is the whole world, but a place that God has made and fitted up, as a dwelling place for His creatures? Look on the right hand and on the left, and you will see that every thing is intended to add to their happiness. 
3. How sweet and balmy is the air that we breathe! How fair is the blue sky, hung with clouds! How grateful to the sight is the color of the trees and the grass! I have not words to express the glory and the beauty of the sun, the moon, and the stars.
4. It is hard to say which are the happiest, -- the birds winging their way through the air, the fish gliding through the waters, the insects sporting in the sun, or the cattle peacefully grazing on a thousand hills. All are formed according to their different natures, and all their wants richly provided for.
5. Though the creation is fitted for the comfort and enjoyment of bird and beast, of fish and creeping things; yet it is more particularly suited to the comfort and happiness of man. Man can not fly like the bird, nor swim like the fish; but he has the gift of reason, which is of far greater value. With this he can reflect, understand, compare, and contrive.
6. Reason renders him stronger than the elephant, and swifter than the eagle; nay, he is more than a match for any other thing that has life. With this gift of reason, man increases in knowledge, and greatly adds to his happiness.
7. Almost every kind of living creatures contributes to his food, his clothing, his convenience, or his pleasure. The trees yield him their fruits, the flowers spread before him their beauty and fragrance; the sea gives up its pearls, and the earth its metals; the winds and the waves, in a degree, obey him, and he is acknowledged ruler among created things.

I.  "Do you think my pet squirrel will go quite away, if I let him be free just for one short day? So bland is the sun, and so genial the air, it is cruel in me to imprison him there.
II. If I let him go once to the old chestnut tree, don't you think, by tonight, he'll come back to me?" So said little Mary, as I chanced to go by, and the inquiry glanced from her lip and her eye.
III. It did seem quite hard, such a beautiful day. To keep the pet squirrel in a cage-house to play; so I told her the squirrel would come back again, when the shadows of evening fell over the glen; he would tire of the oak and the murmuring rill, and think his snug prison-house pleasanter still.
IV. So she lifted the latch of the prison-house door, when a doubt flitted over her features once more. "I don't know," Mary said, "I feel half afraid, he remembers too keenly the forest-tree's shade; on the gray mountain's brow, when the night-shadows fall, perhaps he won't come at my evening call.
V. "No matter, -- I'll try, -- and I hope he loves me far more than the nuts on the old chestnut-tree." So she opened the door, and the squirrel popped out, and whisked his long tail as he capered about.
VI. He bobbed his pert head, and looked out of his eye with a mischievous wink, which said plainly, "Good-by;" and his swift, little feet, as they pattering ran, sent back a defiance, "Now catch if you can!"
VII. Now dear little Mary looked ruefully on, when she saw that the squirrel had really gone. Till her bright eye was weary with tracing his track, and she said to herself, "I hope he'll come back."
VIII. Well, she hoped, and she watched, and the evening came, and she listened to hear him respond to his name; with her locks all flung back, and her animate eye rambling o'er the brown hillocks, her squirrel to spy; but he came not with night, and night came so fast, that, her hope all forsaken, she resigned it, at last.
IX. but whether in wild-wood, or shadowy glen, the squirrel had found him a shelter again; or whether, as some of our neighbors still say, he fell to the hunter's sure rifle a prey, most certain it is that he never returned to the hand which caressed him, the home which he spurred; and Mary, as she looks on his tenantless pen, says, "I never will trust a tame squirrel again!"

Mother. Laura, perhaps you are not aware that there are several little faults trying to nestle in your heart, and which you ought to get rid of, or they will destroy your future peace and happiness.
Laura. Indeed, I am not, mother; but still there may be some which I have failed to discover. If I knew what they are, I would try to get rid of them as soon as possible. Will you be so kind as to tell me what they are, mother?
Mother. I will, if you will be frank, and tell me, if what I say, is not true. Did you not covet Charlotte Covel's new bonnet yesterday? I saw you looking at her very wistfully, while we were in church.
Laura. Yes, mother; I did admire her new bonnet very much, and wished that you would get me one as handsome as hers. I hope there was nothing wrong in that. Did you not think her bonnet very beautiful, mother?
Mother. Yes; it was a very pretty bonnet, and cost more than I am able to pay for one. Charlotte's parents are wealthy, and can afford to pay more than I can; and, if yours should not cost as much, and is not quite as gaudy as hers, I hope it will be quite as becoming. You must try to bring your desires to your condition, and not covet what belongs to another, or feel envious because they have more costly apparel than yourself.
Laura. Well, mother, I will confess I did want a bonnet as handsome as Charlotte's; but I will be satisfied with the one you will get me. And now, have you discovered any other fault which you wish me to correct?
Mother. Yes; I think I discovered another which you ought to correct, while young, or it will destroy your peace and happiness. Did you not feel pained, last week, when you heard the teacher praising Kate Kearney for reciting her lessons so correctly, and writing so elegantly?
Laura. Yes; but there were other girls in the class, that, I thought, recited their lessons quite as well as she did, and wrote as handsomely, and yet the teacher did not praise them.
Mother. That may be; but you must remember that Kate Kearney has not had the opportunity of attending school as much as you and the rest of her class; and I presume the teacher merely wished to encourage her, without disparaging the other girls. You ought always to feel a pleasure in the success of others.
Laura. Well, mother, I will confess that I did not feel right, last week, toward the teacher, or Kate Kearney either; and I will try, also, to correct this fault in future. But I hope you have not discovered any other failing in me; for, I am sure, I try to treat others as well as they do me.
Mother. That may be; but yo should try to exhibit such a temper and disposition toward others, as shall convince them that you are free from these little failings. And now, I will mention but one other fault, of which you may not be aware, and which, if you do not overcome, will, also, destroy your peace of mind. Did not angry feelings rise within you, when the proud Priscilla Preston passed you in the street, without even noticing you? 
Laura. I confess I did feel angry; for, when she was at out house, a few weeks since, we parted as good friends as any in the village; and what right has she to set herself up above the rest of the girls in the neighborhood? I am sure she has nothing to be proud of, more than the rest of us.
Mother. I am not disposed to justify her conduct. My object is to convince you of your own failings. You do not regard these feelings as very serious matter. That is your mistake. They are the beginnings of great faults, and will tend to from our future character.

1.  "How proud she is, -- the haughty puss! I wonder who is she, that she should treat an equal thus, nor deign a glance at me?
2. "She need not such conceit display, although she is so fine; and yet she turns her eyes away whene'er they meet with mine.
3. "My friends are quite as good, I know, as any she can bring; and as to dress, -- but let her go,-- the upstart, vulgar thing!"
4. Thus Lucy Gray indignant thought as Laura passed her by, and anger in her bosom wrought, and flashed within her eye.
5. Ah, Lucy! hush those thoughts severe, nor quite so freely blame; and think, before so harsh with her, -- do you not do the same?
6. Do you not sometimes look aside when turn away in haughty pride, or even cross the street'?
7. She's tidy, decent, neat, and clean, respectful, too, to you; why should you blame in Laura, then, what you thus practice too?
8. �eTis well, sometimes, to look within, and blame in gentler tone; and, ere we chide another's sin, to recollect our town.

1. One bright morning in June, when the weather was warm and beautiful, two children, named Edward and Emily, started to go to school. They lived on the side of a mountain, and it was  over a mile from their house to the village, where they went to school. 
2. A large part of the space between their house and the village , was covered by a thick forest; but Edward and Emily were accustomed to go to school and to church through these woods, and their parents felt no anxiety about them.
3. In descending the mountain, they came to the brow of a hill, from which they could see a small, blue lake. It was surrounded by the dense forest, and did not seem to be at a very great distance. 
4. Edward had often seen this lake before, and wished to go to it; and now that the day was so very brightened beautiful, he resolved to pay it a visit. Emily wished to go to school; but Edward persuaded her to go with him, by saying, "We can go round and see the lade, and then get to school by the time it commences."
5. So they turned aside, and pressed on through the tangled woods, for some time, in the direction of the lake, and at length, supposed they must be very near it; but, on coming to a little rise of ground, and catching a glimpse of the blue water between the trees, it seemed as far off as before.
6. They were not, however, discouraged, and again went forward for some time. At length, Emily said, "Edward, I think we had better return, and go to school."
7. Edward replied, "It is now too late to get to school in season, and I think the better way is to make a holiday of it. We can return home at the usual time, and our parents will know nothing about it."
8. "I do not like that plan," said little Emily; "for our parents expect us to go to school, and, if we do not go, we disobey them. Besides, if we spend the day in play, and say nothing about it, and let our parents think we have been at school, we deceive them, and that is as bad as telling a falsehood."
9. "Oh, nonsense!" said Edward; "we will tell them we went to the woods just to pick a few flowers for the teacher, and so got lost, till it was too late to go to school. Don't be afraid. I will manage that matter, -- so, come along."
10. Little Emily then followed her brother; but she went with a sad heart. Edward was unhappy too; for he felt that he had done wrong. But he put on a brave look, and sang or whistled as he went along through the woods.
11. After going some distance, they came to another rise of ground, where they could once more see the little lake, and it seemed almost as far off, as when they first set out to visit it.
12. The fact was, they had been deceived; for the lake was much farther than it appeared to be. They had already spent two hours in their attempt to reach it; and finally concluded to give up the pursuit, and return home.
13. But it was no easy task to find their way back again. They had pursued no beaten path, and they had nothing to guide them in their return. The sky which had been so clear in the morning, was now overcast with thick clouds. 
14. Not knowing the course they ought to pursue, they still went forward, with great haste, till, at length, they came to the foot of a tall cliff. Here they paused, for a short time, to rest; for they were almost overcome with fatigue. Edward sat down, and covered his face with his hands.
15. "What is the matter?" said Emily. "We have lost our way, and shall never find our home again," said Edward. "We have lost our way, no doubt," said Emily, no doubt," said Emily; "but I hope we shall find our way out of the woods again. This is come upon us, Edward, because of our disobedience.
16. "I know it," said Edward; "but it was my disobedience, and not yours; and I am so unhappy because my conduct has brought you into trouble; and, besides, I intended to deceive our kind parents. I wonder, now, that I should ever have thought of such a thing."
17. "Well, Edward," said Emily, "let this be a lesson to us both; and now we must try to find our way out of the woods." They went forward with great haste, after rambling about for nearly four hours, thinking all the time they were going toward home, they came to the same spot beneath the cliff, where they had sat down had rested themselves before.
18. They were now quite discouraged, and felt very sad. They had picked some berries in their rambles, so that they were not very hungry; but their fatigue was so great, that, after lying side by side on the sloping bank, for a while, they both fell asleep. 
19. It was about midnight when Emily awoke. For a moment, she could not think where she was. She cast her eyes not think where she was. She cast her eyes about, and saw that now shelter was over her, but leaves of the trees, and a few stars shining through them. 
20. She listened, but could her nothing but the lonely chirp of the cricket, and the rustling of the forest leaves. She sat some time, almost afraid to stir, or even make the least noise, yet she felt so lonely that she thought she must wake up her brother.
21. She put forth her hand for the purpose of waking him, when, full and clear, at not great distance, she heard her father call, "Edward !" Emily sprang to her feet, and screamed out with all her night: "Here we are, father!
22. Edward soon awoke. The father came running down the hill, and clasped his children in his arms. It was nearly daylight before they found their way out of the woods. But oh what joy and gratitude filled the mother's heart, as she saw them coming home with their father!
23. Edward and Emily confessed they had done wrong, and said that they had been justly punished for their disobedience. They did not soon forget their adventure into the woods, and the severe lesson they had learned. It impressed on their minds the necessity of obedience to their parents.

1. Henry had determined to learn his lesson. So he ran up stairs into his room, shut the door, and sat down on a little stool, near the window, where he thought he would not be disturbed.
2. It was in the summer time, and the window was open; but there was nothing to be seen, where he sat, except the tops of the tallest shrubs, and the mountain hights beyond.
3. Henry applied himself very earnestly to his lessons, and went on without interruptions, till a white pigeon, from his uncle's pigeon-house, flew toward him, and, alighting upon the frame of the window, began to coo, and dress her feathers, turning about her glossy neck in a very fanciful manner.
4. Henry's voice stopped, his eye wandered from his book, and fixed itself upon the pigeon, till, at length, recollecting himself, he cried out, "Get away, Mrs. Pigeon; I will learn my lesson, and you shall not hinder me."
5. At the sound of his voice, the bird took flight, and Henry went on with his lesson very successfully. Presently a beautiful butterfly came flitting into the room, alighting first upon the ceiling, and then upon some of the furniture.
6. Henry's eye again left his book, and followed the butterfly through all its irregular motions, till the little creature passed out through the window, and flew off too far to be seen.
7. "I am glad you are gone," said Henry, returning to his lesson, "and I hope you will come no more." He should have said, "I hope I shall have sense, if you should happen to come again, not to think more about you than of my lesson."
8. "No sooner was the yellow butterfly out of sight, than in came a honey-bee, with his buzz! buzz! buzz! This intruder came flying around Henry's head, buzzing in one ear, and then in the other, till, finally, it passed out of the window, and disappeared.
9. At length, Henry became so vexed that he jumped up, and shut the window against these intruders; and, in order that his attention might not again be diverted from his book, he turned his stool around, and seated himself with his back to the window.
10. "There!" said he, "ladies and gentlemen, -- Mrs. Pigeon, Mrs. Butterfly, and Mr. Honey-bee, if you come again, you will not find me at home; or, if I am at home, I shall not be ready to receive you."
11. "What now? Who is coming next?" said he,, when, turning his eye toward one corner of the room, whence a faint noise was heard, behold! there was a little, brown mouse, with sparkling black eyes, peeping through a hole in the wall.
12. "Well, now," said Henry, "there is a new visitor. Well, I am glad that Muff is not here. Get back, little mouse, to your hiding-place! I will not look at you; for I am determined to learn my lesson."
13. Now, Muff was the name of the family cat: she was called Muff, because, when she was very little kitten, a lady brought her to the house in a muff.
14. She was a gray cat, and would have been very handsome, only she had the misfortune to lose one eye, in a battle with a large rat; and any one must know that the loss of an eye is a great disadvantage to a cat, as well as to any one of us.
15. We should consider the goodness of God in giving two eyes to all His creatures; so that, although they should lose one eye, they would still have another to use.
16. When Henry turned away from the mouse, and had begun to study his lesson again, a large spider let itself down from the ceiling, directly over his head, and dropped upon his book.
17. Henry shook the spider from his book: saying, "I will not care for any of you. Mrs. Pigeon, you may coo; Mrs. Butterfly, you may flutter; Mr. Honey-bee, you may buzz; Miss Mouse, you may nibble; and Mrs. Spider, you may spin; but I am determined not to let you cheat me any longer.
18. He then went to work with all his might, -- kept looking at his book, and repeated the words over and over again, until he succeeded in learning his lesson perfectly. 
19. If children wish to learn their lessons thoroughly, they must not allow their eyes to wander after every trifling object that presents itself to their view, nor their attention to be diverted from their studies.

I. 
The class. The Sabbath's sun was setting low, amidst the clouds at even;
One scholar. "Our Father," breathed a prayer below, -- "Father, who art in Heaven."
II.
One scholar. Beyond the earth, beyond the cloud, those infant words were given;
The class. "Our Father," angels say aloud, -- "Father, who art in Heaven."
III.
One scholar. "Thy kingdom come," still from the ground, that child-like voice did pray;
The class. Thy kingdom come," God's hosts resound, far up the starry way.
IV.
One scholar. "Thy will be done," with little lips repeat, their closing evening prayer;
The class. "Forever," floats in music sweet, high �emidst the angels there.

1.  "When I was only eight years of age," said Judge N-----, "my father and mother being poor, with a large family of children to support, I was bound out to deacon Webb, a farmer, who was to keep me in his service till I was twenty-one years of age.
2. "I did not have a very easy time; for deacon Webb believed in keeping boys at work, and did not mean to spoil them by allowing them much time for play. The deacon was not to allow me any thing for my services, except my food, clothing, and three months' schooling in winter; and, therefore, I did not see any money, except a few pennies which the deacon would sometimes give me.
3. "I had lived with the deacon more than three years, before I knew the color of any coin, except copper; and it was by mere accident that I then learned the color of gold. One Thursday night, deacon Webb sent me to the village store on an errand; and, on returning home, just about dusk, my attention was attracted by a small package of brown paper lying in the road.
4. "I picked it up to examine its contents, without the slightest idea of the treasure it contained. I tore open the paper, and, seeing nothing, I was on the point of throwing it away, when something dropped out, and fell with a ringing sound upon a stone.
5. "I looked at it with surprise. It was yellow, round, glittering, and too bright and too small for a penny. I took it up, squeezed it in my fingers, and then I thought it might be a gold coin of great value.
6. "I put it into my pocket; but it would not stay there. Every few minutes, I would take it out, and look at it. But, when I met any one, I carefully put it out of sight. I felt a guilty dread of finding an owner for the coin; for, if I found none, I thought it was honestly mine, by right of discovery.
7. "I reached home and went to bed. I would not have had the deacon or his family know what I had found for any thing. I was sorely troubled with the fear of losing the vast treasure. But this was not all. It seemed to me that my actions betrayed the secret. I could not look at any one with an honest eye.
8. "These troubles kept me awake more than half the night. On the following morning, I was feverish and nervous. When deacon Webb, at the breakfast table, said, �eWilliam!" I started and trembled, thinking the next words would be, �eWhere is that piece of gold you found, last night, and wickedly concealed, to keep it form the rightful owner?' But he only added, �eI want you to go to Mr. Baldwin's, this morning, and ask him if he can come and work for me to-day.'
9. "I felt relieved. I left the house, and was out of sight as soon as possible. Then, once more, I took the coin out of my pocket, and gazed on its beauty. Yet I was unhappy. my conscience troubled me, and I almost wished I had not found the sovereign. �eShould I not be called a thief, if discovered'? I asked myself. �eWas it not as wrong to conceal what I had found, as to take the same amount from the owner's pocket? Was he not defrauded just as much?'
10. "But, I said to myself, �eWhy, if I do not know who the loser is, how can I give him his money? It is only because I am afraid deacon Webb will take it away from me, that I conceal it; that's all. I would not steal gold; and if the owner should ask me for it, I would give it to him.'
11. "Thus I reasoned with myself all the way to Mr. Baldwin's house; but, after all, it would not do. The gold coin was like a heavy stone to my heart; and I could not help thinking I was not half so I had been with a rusty copper penny, which I had found some weeks before. No one claimed the penny, although I kept my good fortune no secret; and I had been as happy as a king, -- or as a king is supposed to be.

1.  "Mr. Baldwin was not at home, and I returned to the deacon's house. I saw Mr. Wardly's horse standing by the gate, and I was terribly frightened. Mr. Wardly was a constable, and I knew he had come to take me to jail; so I hid in the garden until he went away. Then I went into the house.
2. "The deacon looked angry at me. Now, thought I, he is surely going to accuse me of finding the gold. But he only chided me for being so long about my errand. I never received a reprimand so willingly; His severe words sounded sweet; for I had expected something so much more terrible.
3. "I worked all day with the gold in my pocket. I wonder deacon Webb did not suspect something wrong, I stopped so often to see if it was really there; for, much as the possession of it troubled me, the fear of losing it troubled me still more. In fact, I was miserable. I wished, a hundred times, I had not found the gold. I felt that it would be a relief to lay it down in the road. I wondered if ill-gotten wealth made every body so miserable.
4. "At night, I was sent again to Mr. Baldwin's, and obtained his promise to work for deacon Webb on the following day. It  was dark when I went home, and I was afraid of robbers. I never felt so cowardly in my life. It seemed that any body could rob me with a clear conscience; because my treasure was not rightfully mine.
5. "The next morning, Mr. Baldwin came early to breakfast with us. He was an honest, poor man, who supported a large family by hard labor. Every body liked him, he was so industrious and faithful; and, besides making good wages, he often received presents of meal and flour from those who employed him.
6. "At the breakfast table, something was said about the �enews.' �eI suppose you have all heard about my misfortune,' said Mr. Baldwin. �eYour misfortune! why, what has happened to you?' asked the deacon.
7. "'I thought every body had heard of it,' replied Mr. Baldwin. �eThe other night, when Mr. Woodly paid me, he gave me a gold piece,' ?
8. "I started, and felt the blood forsake my cheeks. I was in such a tremor that I could scarcely keep my seat. All eyes were fixed upon Mr. Baldwin, however, and so my trouble was not observed.
9. "'A sovereign,' said Mr. Baldwin, �ethe first one I ever had in my life. I wrapped it in a piece of paper, and put it into my coat-pocket, where I thought it was safe I never did a more foolish thing. I must have lost the coin in taking out my pocket-handkerchief; and the paper would prevent its making a noise as it fell.
10. "'I discovered my loss when I got home, and went back to look for it; but some body must have picked it up. Whoever he is, he is welcome to it; and I hope his conscience will not trouble him more than the money is worth; though I can not well afford to lose my honest earnings.'
11. "This was too much for me. The allusion to my conscience brought the gold out my pocket. I resolved to finish the matter, and be honest in spite of poverty and shame. So I held the gold in my trembling hand, and said, �eIs this yours, Mr. Baldwin?'
12. "My voice was so faint that he did not hear me. So I repeated my question in a more courageous tone. All eyes were turned upon me in amazement, and the deacon demanded when and where I had found the gold.
13. "I burst into tears, and confessed every thing. I expected the deacon would severely chastise me. But he patted my head, and said, in a kind tone of voice, �eDon't cry, William. You are an honest boy, if you did come near falling into temptation. Always be honest, my son, and, if you do not become rich, you will be happy with a clear conscience.'
14. "But I cried still ? for joy. I laughed, too, the deacon had so touched my heart. Of what a load was I relieved! I then resolved ever to be honest. Mr. Baldwin declared I should have half the money for finding it; but I wished to keep clear of the troublesome stuff for a time, and I did. I would not accept his offer, and I never regretted.
15. "After this, I was the deacon's favorite. He was very kind to me in every thing. I was careful not to deceive him. I preserved the strictest honesty and candor; and that has made me what I am.
16. "When the deacon died, he willed me five hundred dollars, with which I purchased new lands, that are worth a great many sovereigns. But this has nothing to do with my story. That is told. All I have to add is, I have never regretted clearing my conscience of poor Job Baldwin's sovereign."

1. A little girl, three summer old, chanced through the window to behold the evening star. A thing so beautiful and bright, filled her young bosom with delight ? shining afar.
2. The pointed upward to the sky, and to her mother, sitting by, she made this plea: "Mother, my playthings are not bright, Call down that pretty star to-night, and give it me."
3. "My child," said she, "that pretty star is a great world, and very far from us away; I can not call it from the sky, although it seems so bright and nigh, at close of day."
4. "Then mother, can't we go to-night up to that world so large and bright, -- and father too? And there no candle we would need, for there it must be light indeed, -- come, mother, do."
5. "Not so, my child, the earth below must be our home, until we go by death away; and then will holy angels bear us to a world of glory, where �etis always day."

Agnes. Father, can you tell me why this geranium does not grow, like the rest of the flowers? It was set out at the same time, and has had more care taken of it than any other, and yet it has not grown any, while they have grown so much; and see how yellow the leaves are. It has not had a blossom on it, and there is not a sign of a bud to be seen. 
Father. Perhaps you have not given it the right kind of culture. 
Agnes. I think I have, sir; for I have done just what the gardener told me to do. I am very sorry it does not grow any better; it looks so bad, in the midst of those which are so green and flourishing, and have such beautiful flowers, that I am sometimes half inclined to pull it up, and throw it away. 
Father. I would not do that yet. I would remove some of the earth from its roots, and replace it with some fine, soft mold, and give it plenty of water, and see if it will not do better.
Agnes. I have done so already; but, if you think best, I will do it again; for I mean to learn to be persevering.
Father. It is very necessary to be so, if you wish to accomplish any thing.
Agnes proceeded to do to the plant, as her father had recommended. When she had finished her work, she came and sat down beside her father in the arbor.
Agnes. Now, if the plant will not grow and blossom, I shall have to give it up. But it will be almost too bad, if I have taken all that pains for nothing.
Father. Parents often have an experience similar to yours, with respect to their children. They take great pains to cultivate their minds and hearts, still there is now and then a child who will not make the desired improvement. Which is the worst, to have a plant that will not grow, or a child that will not grow?
Agnes. It does not rest with a child to say whether it will grow or not: it grows as a matter of course, unless it happens to be a dwarf. 
Father. I did not allude to bodily, but to mental and moral growth. A child, on whom your efforts to make him intelligent and good, have not effect, may be compared to the geranium; only there is this difference, -- that the failure of the plant to improve, under the hand of cultivation, is owing to some cause, for which it is not to blame; the failure of the child to improve, lies in himself, and for it, he is to blame.
  To have a dwarfed and unhealthy plant in a fine garden, is an evil, to be sure; but nothing in comparison with having a dwarfed and unhealthy child in a family. I mean a child whose mind is stinted and whose heart is hard and corrupt.
Agnes. I never thought of comparing a garden of plants to a family of children before; but I see there are many points of resemblance, and a great many things to be learned from flowers.
Father. There are; and while you are occupied in cultivating and training your plant, I shall be very glad to have you form the habit of considering the lessons which may readily and naturally be drawn from them.
Agnes. The, I suppose, first of all, I must see to it that all the pains which my parents and teachers take with me, be not thrown away.
Father. Yes; you must take care to grow mentally and morally, that you be not a dwarf.
Agnes. Will you please tell me just what I must do, in order to grow mentally and morally?
Father. You must take pains to retain the knowledge imparted to you, and to think it over, and exercise your mind. The mind grows by exercise. Reading, study, thinking, observation, and sensible conversation, all make the mind grow. Then, in order to grow morally, you must always do right, -- always study to know what is duty, and always be sure to do it. By so doing, you will render the efforts of your parents and teachers successful.
Agnes. I shall then, doubtless, become a thrifty plant. But you have not told me how to blossom.
Father. You must take care to cultivate your affections. You must be gentle, and kind, and pitiful, and forgiving. Warm and pure affections, freely exercised, give a charm to the character, such as the flower gives to the plant. A beautiful flower gives a pleasure to the sight; but a warm and generous heart yields a higher gratification.
  At this moment, Agnes' father was called from the garden, and she was left to her own reflections. She thought of what had been said, and fully resolved that her mind and heart should not, as far as lay in her power, have a dwarfed and unhealthy growth.
  She was glad she had not thrown away the geranium, since it had been the occasion of bringing valuable truths to her mind. She resolved to let it remain among the other flowers, even if it did not grow, that it might remind her of her resolution, not to become a mental and moral dwarf.
  Her resolutions were, in a good degree, carried into effect. She continued to cultivate her flower-garden, year after year, with great care; but, at the same time, did not neglect the culture of her mind and heart. It was once said of her, when her garden was the subject of praise, that "She was the loveliest flower, after all."

1.  "Wanted, an active, intelligent boy of good habits." We often read such an advertisement in the newspaper; but what boy can say he fully answers the description?
2. An active boy, -- one who does, with a hearty good will, whatever he undertakes, and who will not allow every little obstacle to prevent him from accomplishing his object.
3. An active boy, -- one who is ready and willing to do an errand with the greatest dispatch, and who never neglects his business, nor idles away his time when he ought to be at work. 
4. An intelligent boy, -- one who has a mind of his own, and who is not easily persuaded, by idle and vicious boys, to do what he knows is not right.
5. An intelligent boy, -- one who thinks as well as acts; who reads good books, and carries into practice what he learns, and who means to know something when the comes to be a man.
6. A boy of good habits, -- one who will not lie, nor steal, nor cheat, nor swear, nor quarrel, -- one who does not use tobacco, nor drink rum, and who has a good address and agreeable manners.
7. "But who wants him?" you ask. Who wants him? Why, every body wants him. The Merchant wants him for a clerk to sell goods, or keep his books; because he know he will not take money from his drawer, nor make false entries. 
8. The Mechanic wants him for an apprentice to learn a trade; because he will try to perform every piece of work, which he is set to do, in the best possible manner, and not ruin it by making careless blunders.
9. The Farmer wants him; because he is faithful and trusty. He does not need to be told, every day, to feed the pigs and hens, -- to lead the horse to water, or drive the cows to pasture. He does not destroy more than he earns; but whatever he does, he tries to do well.
10. boys, do you want to find a good employer? Remember, that employer wants a good, active, intelligent boy, -- just such a boy as has been described. Now is the time, and school is the place, to qualify yourselves for such a situation.

1.  "Samuel, we are going to have a first-rate time to-night," said Thomas Lane, "and you must come and join with us. Engine Company No. 5 has engaged a Brass Band, and we are going to march round the city with torches. John Ring, David Morse, and Rufus Turner, are all coming out, and you must come too."
2. "No, Thomas; I can not come out to-night," replied Samuel; "I am engaged at home, with my studies.
3. "That's what you always say, Samuel. I should think you might come out just for once. The boys will not like you, if you do not come," said Thomas.
4. "I do not know why the boys should dislike me for staying in the house, any more than I should dislike them for going into the streets," replied Samuel.
5. "They might not to dislike you for doing what you prefer," said Thomas. "But you know the boys all like your company very much, and they can not see why you should be so very strict in staying at home every night. If you would only join us once in a while, they would be satisfied.
6. "I am afraid of that once in a while," replied Samuel. "If I begin to spend my evenings in the street, I shall break up my present habit of spending them at home, which is a good one, and I should soon form the habit of spending them in the street, which, you know, is a very bad one."
7. "That may be true," said Thomas; "but I do not ask you to come out every night; but only this once. We shall have a good time, and I know you will enjoy the sport very much. So, do come." This he said in a very coaxing tone and manner.
8. "No, Thomas; I can not comply with your request," replied Samuel. "I read, the other day, bout a thorn which grows in Africa. If a man gets caught by it, he finds it hard work to get away with the clothes on his back; for, when he tries to unhook one part of his dress, he is caught in another. Every new attempt to get clear, only hooks him more firmly; until, scratched and ragged, he escapes in a pitiful plight. 
9. "The people call this thorn, �eStop a while.' Now I fear, if I begin to go out at night, and spend my time in vice and folly, that I shall be caught by a worse thorn than �eStop a while;' for, my habit of spending my evenings at home, will be broken up forever. So, Thomas, you must excuse me."
10. After Thomas had left, Samuel took his book, and began to study with a light heart. He had resisted a temptation. He had conquered himself. For he really wished to see the torch-light procession. But he knew the danger of beginning to do evil, and was glad that he had courage to say, "No" to the very earnest entries of his friend.
11. Samuel became so interested in his studies, that he forgot all about Thomas, the Brass Band, and the torch-light procession. In fact, the hours passed so rapidly, that  when the clock struck nine, he started up with surprise, and exclaimed, "What! nine o'clock already? How swiftly the evening has passed away!"
12. The next morning, Samuel was at school at an early hour, and with a cheerful face. Thomas was there, too; but his looks were downcast, and his manner said. School had not begun; so Samuel said to him, "What is the matter, Thomas? Did you not have a good time, last evening?"
13. Thomas looked up with a frowning brow. He was in very ill-humor, and bore marks of rough usage in his face. "No," said he, "we did not have a good time. After marching around awhile, we all became tired, and stopped on the corner to rest. Two of the boys got into a quarrel, and David Morse and I tried to part them, when John Ring hit me in the face, and gave me this black eye.
14. "Well, Thomas, I hope you will take my advice, and not go out at night," said Samuel. "I enjoyed myself finely. I quarreled with no one; I neither suffered harm myself, nor did harm to any one else. And what is better still, I added several new facts to my stock of knowledge. I do not see that I should have done any better, had I followed your advice.
15. Thomas admitted that the practice which Samuel had adopted, was better than his. He said he would follow it; but he never did. His habit was too strong to be easily broken off. It was too much like Samuel's thorn to be readily escaped. He soon forgot his black eye, and was seen, night after night, with a gang of idlers at the corners of the streets.
16. Boys, I hope you will all take my friend Samuel for your model. The practice of roaming in the streets at night, is one of the very worst habits a boy can fall into. It teaches him to waste his time, to neglect his studies, to adopt evil practices, and to corrupt his heart. While he who, like Samuel, improves his evenings by pleasant studies at home, escapes much evil, grows wiser, better, and happier.

1. Speak kindly to that poor old man, pick up his fallen cane, and place it gently in his hand, that he may walk again. His bundle, too, replace with care beneath his trembling arm; brave all the taunts that you may hear, to give his life a charm.
2. A braver deed than scorners boast, will be your triumph then, -- a braver deed than animals tell of some distinguished men. Yes; leave the thoughtless, sneering crowd, dare to be good and kind; then let them laugh, as laugh they may, pass on ; but never mind.
3. Pass on; but think once more of him, the wreck that you have seen; how once, a happy boy, like you, he sported on the green; a cloudless sky above his head, the future bright and fair, and friends all watching o'er his couch. To breathe affection's prayer.
4. But ah, the change! He wanders now forsaken, lone, and sad; thrice blessed is the task of those who strive to make him glad. Speak kindly to that poor old man, pick up his fallen cane; for that will ease his burdened heart, and make him smile again.

1. Many years ago, there stood, on the banks of the Hudson, a small cottage. Honey suckle and woodbine climbed over the piazza, and roses bloomed in the garden.
2. Near the open door there sat an old man, seventy years of age; and, although his hair was white, his eyes were still as blue, and his cheeks seemed almost as rosy, as in the days of his youth.
3. His grandchildren were gathered around him. The oldest, a bright boy of twelve years, was playing with his dog, while one of the girls was gathering flowers for a bouquet, and another was reading in her "Picture Book." One little girl, scarcely three years old, had climbed to his knee, and was playing with his long, white locks.
4. After playing a while, the boy said, "O grandpa, please tell us a story!" "Please do, grandpa," the children all cried at once.
5. "Well," said he, "what shall I tell you?" "Oh, tell us a fairy story!" said the girl who had been reading a book of fairy tales. 
6. "A fairy story, indeed!" said the boy who had first spoken: "girls always want to hear fairy stories. Tell us about the Indians and their battles."
7. "Well, if you will all be seated around me," said the old man, "and listen to what I say, I will try to tell you a story." The children all clustered around him, and he commenced his story.
8. "Many years ago, on the banks of the Mohawk, there stood a log hut, -- such as was used by the early settlers. It was inhabited by a man, his wife, and two small children, -- a boy and a girl. The boy was about ten years of age, and his sister, some years younger.
9. "One beautiful afternoon in September, the two children left their home, and wandered along the margin of the river, picking up little pebbles, and throwing them into the water, to see the bright drops glitter in the sunbeams.
10. "At some distance from the house, was a small canoe, partly resting on the bank of the river. The children played around it for some time; but, growing bolder by degrees, they stepped into the frail bark, took the paddle, and pushed it from the shore. It soon reached the current, and was swiftly floating down the stream.
11. "They knew that the Cohoes Falls were at a short distance below, and they greatly feared that the boat would go over the falls, and they would be dashed to pieces. The little boat glided swiftly over the waters the rocks and trees seemed to pass by them with great rapidity, and the roar of the cataract burst upon their ears.
12. "The children now gave themselves up as lost. Just at that instant, a young Indian warrior rushed from the thicket, plunged into the river, and brought the canoe to the shore. After placing the children on the bank, he seized the boat, and pushed it into the middle of the stream. It was carried swiftly to the verge of the cataract, and plunged into the foaming gulf below, -- a wrecked and broken thing.
13. "But, to return to the cottage. The mother, who was busy with her domestic affairs, did not heed the absence of the children, until the hour arrived for preparing their evening meal. The table was drawn out, and covered with a clean, white linen cloth; the bowls of bread and milk were set side by side for the little ones, and the more substantial supper for the father was placed upon the board.
14. "The mother went to the door; but could not see her children. Still she felt no anxiety about them; for she thought they had wandered to the field, where their father was at work, and that, when he returned from his labor, they would come with him.
15. "Presently the father came; but they were not with him. The mother anxiously asks for her children. He had not seen them since he left the house. Search was immediately made in every place where it was thought they had gone; but no trace of them was to be found.
16. "They called upon their neighbors, who went in every direction, in search of the children. All night long, the unhappy mother is listening to every sound, and anxiously waiting their return, in hopes of hearing some tidings of her lost children.
17. "It was several days before any trace of them was discovered, when their worst fears were realized by finding the wrecked canoe, with a small piece of the little girl's dress attached to a nail in the bottom of the boat. The unhappy father returned to his desolate home, unable to console his heart-broken wife.
18. "Long, long, they mourned the loss of their dear children. But, although their glad voices were no longer heard around the fire-side, the parents felt that it was the hand of the Lord that had afflicted them, and they submissively bowed to the chastisement.

1.  "The children followed their Indian guide through the woods, until they came up with a party of Indians, to which the young warrior belonged. They had been to the white settlements to-dispose-of their furs, and were now returning to their homes.
2. "For many days, they traveled, and, at last reached the Oneida encampment. Here they separated the brother and sister, -- the boy was to go farther west, and the little girl was to remain. The little captives shed many bitter tears, and begged that they might remain together; but they were torn from each other's arms, and the boy was taken to the western wilds.
3. "For a long time, little Ruth pined for her brother; and, as the thought of home and her parent came to her mind, the burning tears would roll down her cheeks. But the sorrows of childhood are soon forgotten, and the kindness of a young Indian girl reconciled her to her new home.
4. "Years passed on, and the boy became a man. He had been instructed in shooting with the bow and arrow, and in very other sport, with which the Indians are familiar. But there were times when he would retire by himself, to muse in solitude on his loved home and absent sister. 
5. "He had heard from her but once, since they were parted. He knew she was with the Oneidas, and he feared they would never meet again. He had now been with the Indians ten years, and a part of the tribe were soon to visit the white settlement to sell their furs. At the earnest request of the boy, he was, at last, permitted to go with them. Oh, how gladly he went; for he hoped to hear from his parents!
6. "The Indians had been very kind to him; but they never could supply the place of those he had lost. They set out, and, after many days, reached the settlement. After selling their furs, they turned toward their home, and, with a heavy heart, the brother prepared to return with them. 
7. "One beautiful evening, as they were passing the Cohoes Falls, the boy stopped and gazed eagerly around. �eSurely,' said he to himself, �ehere is the same spot where little Ruth and I played together in childhood. Here are the same rocks, and trees, and hills; and yonder stands the old log hut, our home!'
8. "Ten long years had passed, since he left that happy home. Eagerly he pressed forward, the Indians quickly following; for they, too, saw the cottage, and intended to stop there to refresh themselves from the fatigues of their journey.
9. "The door stood open, and near it sat a woman employed with her needle. Sorrow had wrinkled her brow, and whitened her hair. When they reached the cottage, the boy sprang forward, exclaiming, �eMy dear, dear mother!' and fell senseless at her feet.
10. "The woman started from her seat, as she heard that loved word. She gazed a moment on the features of the prostrate boy, and then, clasping him in her arms, she exclaimed, �eMy dear, darling boy! The Lord be praised!' It was some time before he recovered; but, when he did, the loved forms of his dear parents were bending over him, and he was happy.
11. "The Indians were silently gazing upon the group: their hearts were touched; for they knew the story of their captive, and understood full well the scene before them. After conversing in a low tone for a few minutes, they turned to leave the cottage; but the mother asks, "Where is my daughter?' One of the chiefs replied, �eThe daughter of the Pale-face dwells not in the wigwam of Wacon'za.'
12. "But the son informed her of the destiny of little Ruth, and the father and son prepared to return with the Indians to seek for the lost child. After many days, they reached the Oneida Village, and were conducted to Ono-non'-da, the chief. The father said, �eI am come to find my lost daughter.'
13. "'The daughter of the Pale-face is the wife of the Red-man,' replied the chief. He then pointed to a wigwam, where the father beheld his long-lost daughter. Her light hair fell in the same ringlets, and they were the day she left her father's house.
14. "She lay reclining on a couch of furs, her head resting on one hand, and her eyes fixed upon her father; but she did not recognized him. The father sprang forward, and clasped her in his arms. �eMy dear child! My own lovely Ruth!' were the only words he could utter.
15. "The young girl returned the embrace of her father and brother; for she still had a faint remembrance of her home; although in heart and soul she had become an Indian. Her brother told her how he came to find their parents, and that they had come to take her home.
16. "Tears filled her eyes as he spoke, and it was a long time before she would consent to leave her husband. But, when told by him that he would go with her, she replied, �eNar-ra-mat'-tah will go: the white woman shall see her daughter.'
17. "Suddenly she turned and went into her wigwam. After a few moments, she returned, and laid her Indian babe in the arms of her father. The old man wept as he embraced the child, and gave it his blessing.
18. "Ruth, or Nar-ra-mat'-tah, as she is now called, and her husband, were soon ready to go with the old man to his home. The brother started before them, in order to prepare his mother for the change she would see in her daughter.
19. "He found her anxiously awaiting the arrival of her loved ones. At last, they came; and oh, how joyfully did the fond mother welcome her lost daughter! But sorrow blended with joy, when Nar-ra-mat'-tha placed her Indian babe in her arms.
20. "Ruth remained with her parents for some time; and, although she could remember some of the early scenes and sports of her childhood, yet her parents failed to reconcile her to their customs, and she returned with her husband to her Indian home, -- the Oneida Village.
21. "The grief of the fond mother, on seeing the great change in her daughter, and the thought that she should never see her again, so preyed upon her mind, that, in a few months, she was called to a happier and better home."
22. Here the grandfather ceased speaking. "Go on, go on," the children all cried at once. "My story is ended," said the old man. 
23. "Oh, is that all?" said the oldest boy. "But what became of the good young man?" "He," said the grew up, married, and lived to be the old man who has told you this story.
24. "What! you, grandpa? Was it really you, all the time? and did you live with the Indians so long? How funny!" said the little girl on his knee. "But what became of Nar-ra-mat'tah? "She," said the old man, "has been, many years, in her grave."

1. I am all alone in my chamber now, and the midnight hour is near; and the fagot's crack and the clock's dull tick, are all the sounds I hear; and o'er my soul in its solitude, lone feelings of sadness glide; for my heart and my eyes are full when I think of the little boy that died.
2. I went, one night, to my father's house, -- went home to the dear ones all; and softly I opened the garden gate, and softly, the door of the hall. My mother came out to meet her son: she kissed me, and then she sighed; and her head fell on my neck, and she wept for the little boy that died. 
3. I shall miss him when the flowers come, in the garden where we played; I shall miss him more by the fireside, when the flowers have all decayed: I shall see his toys and his empty chair, and the horse he used to ride; and they will speak, with a silent speech of the little boy that died.
4. We shall all go home to our Father's house, -- to our Father's house in the skies, where the hope of our soul shall know no blight, our love, no broken ties: We shall roam on the shores of the river of peace, and bathe in its blissful tide; and one of the joys of our Heaven shall be, the little boy that died.

1.  "I can not bear that Mabel Moore. She is a sly, artful girl; and I will not speak to the proud, haughty creature again," said Lucinda Norman to her companions, one day, as they were going home from school.
2. "O Lucinda! how can you talk so about Mael Moore? said Harriet Lovejoy. "She is one of the best gurls in our school. All the girls like her, and I am surprised to hear you say you can not bear her."
3. "Well, I can not help your surprise, Harriet," said Lucinda. "I do dislike Mabel Moore, and I shall take no more notice of her. That is certain!"
4. "But why do you dislike her?" asked Harriet. "Do tell us what Mabel has done to cause you to speak of her in this manner?"
5. "What has she done? Why, did she not cast a proud, scornful look at me to-day, when she took my place at the head of the class?" replied Lucinda. "Did she not toss her head, and curl her lip in a manner which said, as plainly as looks could say it, �eI am as good as you are, any day, if I am poor.' I saw those haughty looks, and I will let her know she is not as good as she fancies. She is only a poor washer-woman's daughter, and I will not speak to her any more, -- the proud, hateful thing!"
6. "I am sorry you feel so, Lucinda; because I think you only fancied that Mabel looked proudly," replied Harriet. "I thought she looked sorry that you missed the word, and had to lose your place. Of course, she was not to blame because you missed; and you certainly would not have wished her to misspell the word, when she was able to spell it correctly."
7. "Of course, I would not," answered Lucinda, pettishly; "but she need not have looked so proudly. It was her disdain, and not her triumph that vexed me."
8. "Ah, Lucinda!" replied Harriet, "I am afraid you are envious at Mabel's success, and that makes you fancy what you do about her proud, disdainful looks."
9. "Envious, indeed!" exclaimed Lucinda. "Do you think I would envy such a creature as Mabel Moore, the washer-woman's daughter? I wish you to know that when I envy any one, she must be, at least, my equal."
10. "How strangely you talk, Lucinda!" said Harriet. "I always thought Mabel Moore was equal to any of us. She certainly is the best scholar in our school; and, if she is poor, there is not a more gentle, lady-like girl than she is, in the whole village."
11. When Lucinda heard this remark, she flew into a passion, and, bursting into tears, replied, "You are as bad as Mabel, and I will not speak to you again." With this silly outbreak of anger, Lucinda left Harriet, and hastened to her home.
12. Harriet was right. Lucinda was envious, because Mabel Moore, a poor widow's daughter, excelled her in all branches of study. That morning, she had won her place at the head of the only class in which Lucinda had, for some time, stood first. This fact led Lucinda's envy to manifest itself in such a petulant manner.
13. I hardly need say that Lucinda felt no better on reaching her home, than she did while talking with her faithful friend, Harriet. Her envy burned like fire in her bosom. Poor Lucinda! All the luxury of her beautiful home could not make her happy, so long as she cherished envy in her heart.
14. But, painful as it was, she did cherish it. That afternoon, when she met Mabel Moore in the street, she returned her kindly greeting with a sneer, and passed her without speaking a word. At school, the next day, she treated the poor girl with scorn. She, also, tried to-stir-up others to treat her in the same say. She did all that malice could suggest to annoy her, for several days.
15. Mabel felt this treatment keenly. She was a meek, sensitive girl, and felt an unkind look more than many others would feel a harsh word. Still, she did not resent it. She bore it very quietly. Yet her spirit was wounded, and she went home several times to weep, and frequently said to her self, "Why does Lucinda treat me so unkindly?"
16. But May-day was near at hand, and the girls were to have a holiday. A May party was proposed and agreed to. A May-Queen was to be chosen, and the girls met the day before to elect her. One half voted for Mabel Moore, and one half , for Lucinda Norma.
17. Lucinda was highly delighted at her rival. But Mabel stepped quietly forward, and said, in a pleasant tone of voice, "Oh, let Lucinda be our Queen! Let me crown her Queen of the May to-morrow."
18. Some of the girls began to demur to this, at first; but Mabel persuaded them, until all agreed that Lucinda should be their Queen. And then, away they went to the woods to gather evergreens, and prepare for her coronation.
19. Lucinda felt ashamed, when she heard Mabel make this kind proposal; for she knew that it would have afforded her great pleasure to be Queen her selft. Lucinda felt that Mabel had done a noble act in yielding her claim, after the unkind treatment she had received.
20. Lucinda very much wished to ask Mabel's forgiveness; but her price checked this desire, and she said in her heart, "Shall the rich Lucinda Norman ask poor Mabel Moore's pardon? Never! She ought to give way for me. What right has a washer-woman's daughter to think of being made Queen of the May?" This proud thought drove all gentle feelings from her heart.
21. May-day arrived. The girls met, wreathed in flowers, their cheeks rosy with the hues of health and beauty. They escorted Lucinda to the throne which they had prepared, and Mabel crowned her Queen.
22. Mabel's brother placed the scepter in her hands. The whole party bowed before the throne, and did homage to her as their Queen, while Mabel sung a May-song in a gled voice so sweet, and in which there was mingled so much of love and sadness, that its tones went to Lucinda's heart.
23. When the crowning was over, and the party broke up for  a ramble over the fields, Lucinda walked to Mabel's side, and, placing her arm around her neck, whispered in her ear, "Mabel, I have treated you unkindly, because I envied you. Your kindness has made me despise myself. Will you forgive me, my dear Mabel? And shall we be friends again?"
24. Mabel's heart was too full to allow her to speak. But, passing her arm tenderly round Lucinda's waist, while her blue eyes were filled with tears of love, she said, "I freely forgive all. Let the past be as if it had not been." Thus, these girls were friends again. Mabel's love had overcome Ludinca's envy.

1. The robin early leaves its rest to meet the smiling morn, and gather fragments for its nest, from hillock, wood, lawn. The busy bee that wings its way �emid sweets of varied hue, at every flower would seem to say, "There's work enough to do."
2. The cowslip and the spreading vine, the daisy in the grass, the snow-drop and the eglantine, preach sermons as cavern deep, would bid us labor too, and writes upon its tine heap, "There's work enough to do."
3. The planets, at their Marker's will, move onward in their cars; for nature's wheel is never still, -- progressive as the stars. The leaves that flutter in the air, and summer breezes woo, one solemn truth to man declare, -- "There's work enough to do."
4. Who then can sleep, when all around, is active, fresh, and free? Shall man, creation's lord, be found less busy than the bee? Our courts and alleys are the field, if men would search them through, that best the sweets of labor yield, and "work enough to do!

1. In the Fall of eighteen hundred fifty eight, a man by the name of Wilson, made a voyage in a balloon. He went up from Centralia, Illinois, and, after sailing about twenty miles from the place where he started, landed, just before sunset, near the farm-house of Mr. Harvey.
2. Mr. Harvey and his family, who had never before seen a balloon, wondered what it was; and they were very much frightened when they saw it coming down so near their house. As soon as it touched the ground, Mr. Wilson made it fast to a rail-fence, and then went into the house.
3. He told Mr. Harvey and his family how the balloon was constructed, and how long a journey he had made in it, during the past few hours. He then asked them to go and look at it, promising to explain it more fully.
4. After viewing it a short time, Mr. Harvey seated himself in the car, and Mr. Wilson let him go up a few yards, and then drew him down again, by means of a long rope attached to the balloon. He was so much pleased with the ride, that the children wanted to take a ride too.
5. He therefore placed two of his children, Martha and Jacob, in the car. Martha was about eight years of age, and Jacob not quite three. He then took hold of the rope; but, by some means, it slipped from his hands, and the balloon went off with the children, -- up, up, almost out of sight.
6. A sudden cry of horror burst from the lips of the agonized father and mother, as they saw their dear children stretch out their little hands, and heard their piteous appeal, "Pull me down, father! Pull me down, father!" A period of more intense agony to the parental heart can scarcely be imagined!
7. The frantic parents could render them no assistance. They prayed that God would protect and save their dear children, although they had but little hope of ever again seeing them alive. They feared they would fall out of the car, and be dashed to pieces.
8. Messengers were sent in every direction to convey the sad intelligence, and the alarm spread widely. Men and boys rallied to scour the country, and search the woods, in hopes of finding the lost children. It was a night of intense excitement wherever the sad news was heard.
9. It was now past seven o'clock. Darkness soon came on, and the balloon and children could no longer be seen. They were sailing away up among the dark clouds, nearly four miles and a half from the earth, and they were very cold.
10. They cried for a long time; but, when they found no help, Martha tried to console her little brother. She told him to lie down in the car, and she spread her apron over him to keep him warm. He soon fell asleep; but she kept awake all night. Oh, what a long, dreary night it must have been to the poor girl, who had never before spent a night away from home!
11. She found that, by pulling one of the cords, the balloon would descend, and when she let go the cord, it would rise again. So she kept hold of the cord, and the balloon came down so near the earth, that she could hear the roosters crow, although it was yet dark.
12. Presently the balloon descended so low, that it became entangled among the limbs of a tree, near the house of Mr. Atchinson, where it stuck fast. Martha remained quiet until daylight, and then she called for help. Mr. Atchinson, hearing the piteous voice of a little child, arose from his bed, and went to the door to see what was the matter.
13. What was his astonishment, when he saw a large balloon on the top of one of his trees, with two little children in it! As soon as Martha saw him, she called out, "Come and take us down; we are most froze!
14. Mr. Atchinson roused his family, and sent for the neighbors. They set up a long ladder by the side of the tree, and, by cutting away some of the limbs, succeeded in reaching the children, who were brought down, and placed safely on the ground.
15. Mr. Atchinson took the children into his house, and gave them their breakfast. The little girl told him her name, where she lived, and how she and her little brother came there, after sailing all night in the car of the balloon. A messenger was immediately dispatched to convey the joyful tidings to the afflicted parents.
16. Hundreds of people, who had assembled to console the afflicted father and mother, sent up a shout of joy, at the welcome news of the children's safety. Mr. Harvey resided about eighteen miles distant, and it was late in the afternoon when Mr. Atchinson arrived with the children.
17. O, what joy and gratitude filled the hearts of those anxious parents as they clasped their dear children in their arms? They thanked Mr. Atchinson again and again for his kindness, and sent up a fervent prayer and thanksgiving to that kind Providence, who had so graciously preserved their children in that perilous situation, and restored them to their embrace.

1. Men of action! men of might! Stern defenders of the right! Are you girded for the fight?
2. Have you marked and trenched the ground, where the din of arms must sound, ere the victor can be crowned?
3. Have you guarded well the coast? Have you marshaled all your lost? Standeth each man at his post?
4. Have you counted up the cost? What is gained and what is lost when the foe your lines have crossed?
5. Gained? the infamy of fame; Gained? a dastard's spotted name; Gained? eternity of shame.
6. Lost? desert of manly worth; Lost? the right you had by birth; Lost? lost freedom for the earth.
7. Freemen, up! The foe is nearing! Haughty banners high uprearing! ? Lo, their serried ranks appearing!
8. Freemen, on! The drums are beating! Will you shrink from such a meeting? Forward! Give them hero greeting!
9. From your hearts, and homes, and altars, backward hurl your proud assaulters; he is not a man that falters.
10. Hush! The hour of fate is nigh! On the help of God rely! Forward! We will do or die!

1. Many years ago, there lived, in England, an old gentleman, who was very rich; but he had no children to inherit his wealth. He was very kind to the poor, and no one was turned away from his door, who was deserving of assistance.
2. This old gentleman very much desired to have some boy to live with him; but he was afraid he could not find one to suit him. He said that most boys had some bad habits, which could not easily be cured.
3. He was very fond of young people; but, much as he liked their society, he had a great aversion to that curiosity, in which many young people are apt to indulge. He used to say, "The boy who will peep into a drawer, will be tempted to take something out of it; and he who would steal a penny in his youth, will steal a pound inn his manhood."
4. As soon as it was known that this old gentleman wanted a boy to live with him, several boys applied for the situation. Now, the old gentleman had prepared a room in such a way, that, if the lads who applied for the situation, were given to middle with things around them, or to peep into pantries and drawers, he might be aware of it; and he ordered that but one of them should be sent into the room at a time.
5. The first one shown into the room was Christopher Curious. He was requested to take a seat near the door, as he would have to wait a little while. For some time, he was very quiet, and looked around the room; but there were so many curious things in it, that, at last, he got up to peep at them.
6. On the table was place the cover of a dish, and Christopher very much wished to know what was under it. Bad habits are strong, and, as Christopher was of a curious disposition, he could not withstand the temptation to take one peep; so he lifted up the cover.
7. This turned out to be heap of very fine feathers. These were drawn up by the current of air, and scattered all about the room. Christopher began to pick up the feathers; but the old gentleman hearing a noise, and guessing the cause of it, entered the room, and dismissed Christopher, as a lad not likely to suit him.
8. The next boy shown into the room was Marcus Meddlesome, who knew nothing of what had happened to Christopher. On the table was a small, round box with a screw on the top. Thinking it contained something curious. Marcus could not be content without knowing what it was. But no sooner did he unscrew the top, than out bounced a long, artificial snake, and tell on his arm.
9. He started back, and uttered a loud scream, which brought the old gentleman into the room. There stood Marcus with the bottom of the box in one hand, the top in the other, and the snake, which he had shaken off, lying on the floor. "Come, sir," said the old gentleman, pointing him to the door, "one snake is quite enough to have in the house at a time, therefore, the sooner you are gone the better."
10. Peter Pryor next entered the room, and, being left alone, soon began to amuse himself by looking at the curiosities around him. Peter was no t only of a curious and prying disposition, but he was dishonest. Observing that the key was left in the drawer of a bureau, he stepped up lightly and touched it, when, instantly, he fell flat on the floor.
11. The key had a wire fastened to it, which communicated with an electric machine, and Peter received such a shock as he was not likely to forget. No sooner did he sufficiently recover from its effect, than he was told to walk off the premised, and leave other people to lock and unlock their drawers.
12. At last, Timothy Trusty was invited into the room; and, although he was left alone full twenty minutes, he did not, during that time, rise from his chair. Timothy saw every thing that the other boys did; but he had more integrity in his heart. Neither the dish-cover, the round box, nor the key, tempted him to leave his seat.
13. The consequence was, that Timothy Trusty was engaged in the service of the old gentleman, who treated him with greatest kindness; and, at his death, left him a legacy of fifty pounds a year, as a reward for his faithfulness. Think of this, ye, busy, meddling, peeping, pilfering ones, and imitate the example of Timothy Trusty.

1. I like for those who love me, whose hearts are kind and true, -- for the Heaven that smiles above me, and awaits my spirit too; -- For all human ties that bind me, for the task my God assigned me, for the bright hopes left behind me, and the good that I can do.
2. I live to learn their story, who suffered for my sake; to emulate their glory and follow in their wake; -- bards, patriots, martyrs, sages, the noble of all ages, whose deeds crown History's pages, and Time's great volume make.
3. I live to hail that season, by gifted minds foretold, when man shall live by reason, and not alone by gold; -- when man to man united, and every wrong thing righted, the whole world shall be lighted, as Eden was of old.
4. I live for those who love me, for those who knew me true, -- for the Heaven that smiles above me, and awaits my spirit too; -- for the cause that lacks assistance, for the wrongs that needs resistance, for the future in the distance, and the good that I can do.

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