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Mrs.

this early age, famous for his conversational powers. Hannah More records the fact that thus early his ordinary conversation was characterised by great accuracy, spirit, and vivacity. He was not at the same time above or unmindful of childish things. He was as much "amused with making a pat of butter as a poem ;" but very obedient withal-never persisting in doing anything of which his friends disapproved. Mr. Preston, in 1814, changed his residence from Shelford to Aspeden, near Herts. At this place young Macaulay acquired fame as a studious and extraordinary boy. He had by this time learned to forget his early love for sports and pastimes. During the play-hours he might be seen with his large head, stooping shoulders, and pale face, reading or writing; and even during his walks his custom was to repeat poetry aloud.

In 1818, the embryo historian left the academy at Shelford, and entered Trinity College, Cambridge. Here his career was distinguished. Before his twentieth year, he had gained the Chancellor's medal for a poem on "Pompeii ;" and two years subsequently he was again invested with the same badge for his poem on "Evening."

His fame as a public speaker travelled beyond the walls of the college. He was talked about by men who had themselves achieved the highest position as orators. Lord Brougham also wrote an admirable letter to the elder Macaulay on the subject of his son's gifts.

Perhaps it was this letter which induced Macaulay to go to the bar. He entered himself, however, as a student of Lincoln's Inn, where, after eating the prescribed number of dinners, he was duly called to the bar in 1826.

In 1831, Macaulay was elected to the House of Commons, by the inhabitants of Calne, where the part he took in the Discussions on the "Disabilities of the Jews" and the "Reform Bill" placed him in the front of the foremost orators of the time.

Soon after the passing of the Reform Bill he received an appointment to the Secretaryship of the Board of Control; and subsequently a seat at the East India Company's Supreme Council at Calcutta. His stay in India was limited to four years, returning in the year 1838, when he became Secretary at War, and was elected for Edinburgh without opposition.

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The four years of his absence from the House of Commons -1847 to 1852-had been devoted to the composition of his History of England ;" and from 1856, to the close of his career, he was employed upon that enduring monument of his genius and industry.

The success of the History was unparalleled. The first and second volumes ran through five editions in six months, numbering in all 18,000 copies; 25,000 copies of volumes three and four were printed, and a second edition immediately commenced. For the copyright of the History, the eminent publishers, Messrs. Longman, have paid the illustrious author the revenues of a prince. The "Athenæum says that he received from them, in one single cheque, £20,000.

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In 1857, as a graceful recognition of his eminent services, Macaulay was raised to the Pecrage-an honour neither solicited nor sought by him. Owing, however, to the growth of infirmities, and the advance of years, he was seldom seen, and more seldom heard, in the House of Lords; and then, before the expiration of three years from his elevation, the spirit had departed from the clay, where it had so long won the admiration of mankind. On the night of the 21st December, 1859, Thomas Babington Macaulay had ceased to exist. His remains were deposited within the precincts of Westminster Abbey, surrounded by the dust of the men whose genius ennobled and whose labours enlightened their country.

LINES,

WRITTEN ON VISITING THE GRAVE OF WILLIAM PENN.

No conqueror, or regal line,

Can boast of name so proud as thine;
Whose bright, pure cynosure of worth,
Like amaranthine flower on earth,
Doth bid devotion's feeling rise,
Whilst pointing upward to the skies!
I've loved to gaze on that sweet spot,
(Twere one when seen were ne'er forgot,)
Where oft thy early childhood strayed,
'Mid Stoke's fair bounds, or Burnham's glade,
Yet never felt my heart to bow,
With reverend thought, as it doth now!
Through thy long pilgrimage we trace
Thy love and workings for our race;
Ah! would that men, in pride of power,
Would listen to thy teaching hour!
Hate, strife, and warfare, all should cease,
And nations hail the reign of Peace!
Meekness and love in thee we see,
Truth, faith, and low humility;
Thou owned'st, in affliction's rod,
Or prosperous hour, the hand of God;
Unheeding persecution's frown,

Thou hadst thy Cross! Thou hast thy Crown!*

No spot that I have ever visited has left so indelible an impression on my memory as that calm, quiet, secluded burial ground of Jordans, where, unmarked by monument or epitaph, repose the ashes of some of the earliest and most eminent members of the Society of Friends. There lie the remains of Thomas Elwood and wife, Isaac Pennington, and William Penn and family.

About two miles from Beaconsfield, on the road to Chalfont St. Giles, situated in the midst of a picturesque and wooded dell, the pilgrim to that lone resting-place will descry the venerable old Meeting House of Jordans, half hidden by the dense foliage around; there, amid the grass-grown graves, the wild thyme sweetly blossoms, and countless flowers spring up around.

Meet, indeed, seemeth that sequestered spot, in its utter loneliness and calm repose, for the last resting-place of the benevolent founder of Pennsylvania, who went forth ardent and unwearying on his mission of love and peace.

I had lately stood beneath the sculptured trophies, with tattered banner waving over the tomb of Admiral Penn, in that rare old Church of St. Mary, Redcliffe, Bristol; but those relics and triumphs of war and bloodshed, enshrined on the gorgeous cenotaph of the father, shrunk into utter insignificance and worthlessness beside that unmarked but not forgotten grave of the far greater son! W. H. PATCHING.

"No Cross, no Crown," is the title of the best known and most

powerfully written work of William Penn.

Her

THE MOTHER OF DR. DWIGHT. THE mother of Dr. Timothy Dwight, the great American, was daughter of Jonathan Edwards, and seems to have inherited a large share of her father's talents and spiritual graces. powers of mind were unusually strong; her knowledge was extensive, and varied, and her piety highly fervid. She married at an early age, became a mother when eighteen, had a large family, and though never negligent of domestic duties, she daily and assiduously devoted herself to the education of her children. She began to instruct Timothy, it is said, as soon as he was able to speak, and such was his eagerness, as well as his capacity for improvement, that he learned the Alphabet at a single lesson; and before he was four years old was able to read the Bible with ease and correctness.

She taught him from the very dawn of his reason to fear God and to keep his coinmandirents; to be conscientiously just, kind, affectionate, charitable, and forgiving, to preserve on all occasions, and under all circumstances the most sacred regard for truth, and to relieve the distresses, and supply the wants of the poor and unfortunate; she ained at a very early period, to enlighter. his

PICTORIAL PAGES.

conscience and make him afraid of sin, and to teach him to hope for pardon, only through Christ. The impressions thus made upon his mind in infancy, were never effaced. A great proportion of his instruction, which he received before he arrived at the age of six years, was gained at home with his mother. His schoolroom was his nursery. Here he had his regular hours for study as in a school, and twice a-day she heard him repeat his lessons. Here in addition to his stated task he watched the cradle of his younger brother. When his lesson was recited, he was permitted to read books as he chose until the limited period was expired; during these intervals he often read over the historical parts of the Bible, and gave an account of them to his mother. So deep and distinct was the impression which these narrations made on his mind, that their minutest incidents were indelibly fixed upon his memory. His relish for reading was thus very soon formed, and was strengthened by the conversation and example of his mother. His early knowledge of the Bible, led to that ready, accurate, and extensive acquaintance with Scripture, which is so evident in his sermons and other writings. It is easy to see in this picture who it was that laid the foundation of that character, which sanctified genius, and cansed it to shine with transcendent lustre, for more than The mother of twenty years at the head of Yale College. President Dwight was well repaid, even in this life, for the pains she took to rear up her son for the glory of God, for while he never disobeyed a command of hers, or omitted a filial duty, he was kind and generous to her in her old age, and smoothed her path to a Christian grave. But her true and great reward for her maternal faithfulness is another world, whither she went to receive it about the year 1807.

THE OAK AND THE OLIVE-TREE.
A FABLE.

A BROAD spreading Oak, in full foliage, growing in the neighbourhood of an Olive-tree, thus addressed it-I am the monarch of the forest-I have strength and stability above all other trees-several generations of men have passed away since I first struck my roots into this spot, where I still flourish in undiminished luxuriance. The beasts of the wood take shelter under my branches, the cattle feed on my fruit--but my chief glory is that of my strong trunk, out of which ships of war are built, which carry the thunder of the cannon round the world-while for the extension of empire, navies constructed from my substance transport armies to distant shores. I was also honoured, by once sheltering a deposed and persecuted king in my branches, until he regained the throne of his ancestors, and still to commemorate that auspicious event, a grateful nation annually pluck my branches and wear them in my honour. Thus am I distinguished-while

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you, an insignificant and useless shrub, grow without observation,
and die without honour.' When the Oak had ceased speaking,
the Olive-tree replied- I cannot indeed boast of great strength,
neither can I glory in contributing in any degree to the promotion
of war-yet I am not without use to mankind; for from my fruit
is expressed the rich oil, which is valued and used throughout the
civilized world,-and as for honour, if you esteem it a dignity to
have served a king, how much more is my honour, to have served
the King of kings,-whose high priest Aaron was consecrated,
upon his head. So was David the king and prophet, and poet of
by the command of Him, by my sweet, unctuous oil being poured
Israel, by my oil, anointed to his high office.-My oil was
constantly used by Divine appointment in the sacred service of
the tabernacle and temple of old-and it was my pure beaten oil
that filled the golden-bowls of the seven-branched golden candle-
stick in the temple, and supplied the holy place. And what shall
I more say, can your antiquity bear any comparison with me?
When Noah's Dove went forth from the ark, did she pluck a leaf
from your branch? Did she not alight on my peaceful bough,
and thence carry a leaf to the venerable patriarch, as a proof and
an emblem of peace and reconciliation between high Heaven and
offending earth? And has not my perennial branch been the
sear leaves, which I discern here and there upon your branches,
accredited emblem of peace between all nations ever since? Those
presage the total abolition of war in which you glory,-while
the everlasting verdure which you see in my leaf, is prophetic of
the entire triumph of peace over all the earth, and of good-will
among all the tribes and families of mankind.'

THERE once stood side by side upon a certain table, two bottles: one of them contained spirits, and the other pure water. As they were one day quite alone, they entered into the following conversation What a poor dull creature you are,' said the spirit-bottle; I never see you engaged in any fun and jollity; and the few who pay you visits, are as dull and cold as yourself: whereas my visitors, as you must have perceived, are not only numerous, but gay; and as soon as they come, the house resounds with shouts and laughter. Even the ladies throw off the cold reserve of their nature, and become at once kind and happy creatures. Let me advise you to take something better than water to warm your inside and raise your spirits, and then you will be like your neighbours.' To which the water-bottle thus and make the house resound with bursts of laughter, which are replied-'It is true, that my visitors do not utter loud shouts, signs of thoughtlessness and folly; and neither do my female friends throw off their natural reserve, which would display a want of modesty; they are, however, not deficient in that serenity of mind and inward peace which will always accompany innocence, and which the wise would not exchange for such pleasures as you speak of, were they a thousand times greater than they are. You, indeed, boast of numerous friends, but of whom do they consist? The drunken, the foolish, and the immodest, while mine are but few; but then they are the sober, the wise, and the virtuous; and, to tell the truth, I would rather have one like those, than ten thousand such as yours.'

A fond belief in the powers of certain delusive arts, particularly astrology, natural magic, and alchemy, has greatly retarded the progress of knowledge, by engrossing the attention of many of the finest geniuses which the world has ever produced, and by introducing, into medicine especially, a multitude of false facts, founded on the grossest superstition and delusion. These arts, which promised to be of infinite use in life, laid such fast hold of the imagination, that no power of reason was able to free men from their enchantment. At the same time, they have accidentally given rise to important discoveries, and would furnish some excellent materials for a natural history of the human imagination.Gregory.

"HONESTY THE BEST POLICY."

IN the city of Oxford resided a poor woman who earned her livelihood by taking in washing. A tract distributor was in the habit of leaving tracts at her door, as she made her weekly rounds. They were at first thrown carelessly by unread; but, at length, through the power of Divine grace, the truths they contained were brought home to her conscience and her heart, and what had once been received with coldness and indifference, was looked for with avidity and delight. A lady in the neighbourhood, who had hitherto supplied her with work, on hearing of the change that had taken place in and that she was now earnestly inquiring for these little messengers of mercy, and anxious about the concern of her soul, refused to continue her employ. The poor woman was greatly distressed at this circumstance, as her narrow means were thereby considerably diminished. She was much in want of a mangle, but had no means of purchasing one. About this period it happened that her husband, in re

turning from his labour one day, found a purse in the road containing money to a considerable amount. Full of joy at the discovery, he hastened home to his wife, exclaiming as he entered the cottage, A mangle! A mangle! Now you can have all you wish. On hearing of the manner in which he had obtained this unexpected prize, she immediately adverted to a tract she had been lately reading, "Honesty the best Policy," and declared she could not keep and appropriate the money to her own use; she proposed, on the contrary, that intelligence should be given at the newspaper office, and the owner invited to claim his lost property. Her husband acquiesced, the purse was described and restored, with its contents, to its original owner. The reward given was handsome, but not enough by any means to purchase the mangle; still the event proved that honesty is the best policy. The lady before mentioned heard of the circumstance, and was equally astonished and delighted, to find that the tracts she had formerly despised, had, under the Divine blessing, been productive of such happy results, that the principles they instilled were of such a nature, as to induce a poor and destitute woman to deny herself what might have contributed in no small degree to her livelihood, and to put in actual practice the precepts they enforced. She herself purchased the mangle for her, and became a warm and zealous friend to the Tract Society. ANGER." Let

not the sun go down upon your wrath," (Eph. iv. 26,) to carry news to the antipodes of thy revengeful nature. Let us take the apostle's meaning rather than his words, and with all possible speed depose our passions; not understanding him so literally as that we 'take leave to be angry till sunset,' for then might our wrath lengthen with the days; and even in Greenland where day lasts a quarter of a year,have plentiful scope for revenge.

may

WILLIAM OF NORMANDY LANDING

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IN ENGLAND.

BETWEEN the towering crags of Beechy Head and Hastings, the coast runs, for about sixteen miles, in a kind of bay; comprising a magnificent sweep of romantic and beautiful country. This spot, some eight centuries ago, was the scene of one of the most important crises in the history of our country, for here the hosts of Normandy landed, under William the First, to claim the sceptre of England. Harold had gone to the north, to repel a threatened attack, but was now hastening to the new point of danger. On the morning of the 28th of September, 1066, the Norman fleet approached the shores of England, led by the galley of its chieftain, at the prow of whose vessel stood a golden boy, his right hand pointing onward, and his left holding an ivory trumpet to his lips. As the hostile armada hove in sight, the Saxon peasantry who dwelt on the coast, congregated on the heights, and watched with intense alarm the portentous spectacle. Soon the boats left the ships and pushed toward the shore; some glistened with spears and shields and axes; in others stood the war chargers, pawing with impatience at their long captivity. Companies of archers leaped out of the boats, arrayed in their light garb, their heads closely shorn, bearing in their hands their long bows, and having at their backs their quivers full of cloth-yard shafts, and they at once dispersed themselves along the shore and gained the supports, where they might effectually cover the disembarkation of the heavy troops. Then came the knights clad in their habergeons of mail, their massive helmets, their shields strengthened with ribs of iron, and their swords borne by attendant squires. Next were the pioneers with their glittering axes, who, well trained in the duties of their rank, assumed their respective stations. Then the gleaming hosts marshalled themselves in threatening array, warriors mounted their steeds, and footmen massed together in dense phalanxes, while overhead the banners and pennons fluttered in gay confusion.

But there was much yet to be done, for the intelligence of the invasion had spread far and wide, and the Saxons might rally and in the night drive the intruders into the sea. The Norman chief overlooked no precaution in giving security to his position. Timbers, and all necessary materials, were floated ashore from the store-ships, the carpenters and masons were soon at work; men were already in the trenches, and the sound of axes and saws and

spades, resounded far and wide, as they built their stockades and dug out the entrenchments. Before nightfall the Norman hosts were secure from surprise from the enemy. On the following morning (Oct. 15) the battleof Hastings was fought,and the Norman duke became Wm. I. of England.This event changed to a considerable extent the character of the British people.

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THE WAY TO SUBDUE PRI

FIRMNESS joined with suavity, have often religion to entertain a favourable opinion of i inveterate prejudices, and brought those w his life of Wesley, tells us, that John N Preacher, was once desired, by his master's f haste, and that it was common to work on the Lord's-day, on the ground that the king' Majesty when anything was just finishe declared that he would not work upon the Sa in the kingdom, except it were to quench fire, required immediate help. Religion,' says made you a rebel against the king." No, sir, made me a better subject than ever I was. T the king has, are Sabbath-breakers, drunkard gers; for these pull down God's judgment, b and country.' He was told he should lose his would not obey his orders; his answer was, want bread than wilfully offend God.' The f

rives before a thicket of flowers in bloom, he suspends himself so steadily, that his wings become invisible, or like a mist.' Though they frequently suck the juice of flowers, and can be sustained, for months together, by sugar-water and honey, they also feed on small insects. I have seen,' says Wilson, the humming bird, for half-an-hour at a time, darting at those little groups of insects that dance in the air in a fine summer evening; then retiring to an adjoining twig to rest, and renewing the attack with a dexterity that sets all our other fly-catchers at defiance.'

It may easily be conceived, that creatures of such resplendent plumage are universal favourites wherever they appear; and that in the sweet serenity of a summer morning, their visits to the dewy flower-beds of a cottage dwelling are welcomed with delight.

'When morning dawns, and the blest sun again
Lifts its red glories from the eastern main.

Then through the woodbines, wet with glittering dews,
The flower-fed humming bird his round pursues;

Sips with inserted bill the honey'd blooms,
And chirps his gratitude as round he roams;
While richest roses though in crimson drest,
Shrink from the splendour of his gorgeous breast.
What heavenly tints in mingling radiance fly!
Each rapid movement gives a different dye;

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was, that the work was not pursued on Sunday, rose in the estimation of his employer, for havin of his duty as a Christian.

WERE half the power that fills the world wi

Were half the wealth bestowed on camps Given to redeem the human mind from erro There were no need of arsenals nor forts. The warrior's name would be a name abhorr And every nation that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear for evermore the curse of Cai Down the dark future, through long generati The echoing sounds grow fainter, and the And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibration I hear, once more, the voice of Christ say, Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the But, beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.

W. 1

THE STORY OF LITTLE MARIA.

CHAPTER FIRST.-THE PONY.

DURING a visit of a few weeks to the pleasant village of F., on Long Island, I made several excursions to places in the neighbourhood, spending sometimes a day, and sometimes two or three days, either in a trip to the sea-shore, or in wandering leisurely through the woods. On one of these occasions I started from my friend's house at an early hour, carrying with me a small basket of provisions, and followed as usual by my faithful dog. The weather was delightful. The cool morning breeze which came directly from the ocean freshened the air, and seemed to revive and scatter the fragrance of a thousand flowers. On my way, a portion of the well-shaded road lay between an extensive garden on one side, and a broad meadow on the other; and as I passed along, the agreeable odours of the flowers and of the newmade hay seemed to meet and mingle in the very middle of the road.

At this point I was frequently induced to At one time, leaning on the fence pause. which bounded the garden, I enjoyed the fragrance of the flowers. At another moment I crossed the road, and blessed God for the sweet and refreshing savour of the new-made hay. Oh, how good it is to be able to look right up to heaven, and feel that all the pleasant things about us come from our Father's hand! how good it is to remember that our food and clothes, yes, and our health and friends and all that we have, are given and preserved to us by the same kind Parent! I am very particular about telling my little friends what I felt when enjoying the sweet smell of the hay and the blooming flowers, because children, like older people, are too apt to forget that all they have, all they look upon and enjoy, is the gift of God, just as much His gift as though we could see his hand, and take from it our blessings.

But I must go on with my story. After passing by the part of the road which I have mentioned, I came to a place where stood a neat cottage, whose door and windows were almost hidden from view by running roses and honeysuckles. As soon as I saw it, I said to myself, that looks like comfort. I should not greatly wonder if there were a family of happy children within that door, together with a kind father and gentle mother, who think, as we say, all the world of them. With this idea in my mind, I approached the white gate, beside which I now for the first time observed that a beautiful pony was tied, busily engaged in eating a few handsful of clover that lay before him on the green bank. My attention was for a while entirely occupied in watching the movements of this little creature. He seemed just such a pony as ought to belong to a good boy or girl; and from his wearing a side-saddle, I concluded that some little lady was about to take a ride. The pretty animal was a dark dappled grey, with a mane that fell in great abundance over his neck and fore shoulder, and showed itself in a tasty lock between his eyes. But the pony's great comfort, and, as I afterwards found, his owner's chief admiration, was his long, full, silky tail. I greatly doubt whether any of my readers ever saw a pony with so fine a contrivance for driving off the flies. It was thick and full as if no one had ever ventured to touch a hair of it, while for length it reached to the horse's heels, and fairly swept the ground. But what struck me most was the pony's clever use of this noble brush. I am sure it would have pleased you to see who dexterously he employed it to whisk off

the flies. Not one of these troublesome insects could light upon any part of his body or hind legs, without hearing that smart whisk of the fly-brusher, and finding that it was quite impossible to get one drop of pony's blood. I have always thought that it is cruel to mutilate poor horses by cutting off their tails; and after seeing the enjoyment of this one, I felt more than ever that it is a great shame to deprive them of such a capital defence.

I was startled, however, from my meditation upon the sorrows of poor horses, by hearing close by me the voices of two persons apparently engaged in earnest conversation. In a moment I discovered a little girl in a riding habit, who was about mounting the pony, and a gentleman, whose kindness and watchfulness plainly showed that he was none other than the little lady's father. At that instant, too, the child said in a sweet tone, Yes, father, I will remember what you say about taking care of myself, and you know that Robin is a good little fellow, and always brings me home safe.' 'That is very truc, replied the kind parent, and I do feel that Robin would not intentionally hurt his little rider; but I hope that my daughter will always bear in mind that taking care of one'sself is nothing less than leaving God to take care of us, and that it is only He who can send us forth in health or bring us home in safety. I am sorry that business prevents my going with you, but I pray God to keep and to watch over my little girl.' Upon this the gentleman raised his little daughter to the saddle carefully, arranged her dress, satisfied himself that her foot was well fixed in the stirrup, and then with a parting kiss bade her good-bye. As she turned the pony into the road, I caught his last anxious direction: 'Don't forget, daughter, about the turn in the road;' to which the sweet voice of the little one replied, 'No, pa, I'll be very careful.' With this, away flew the pony, and in a few minutes both horse and rider were quite out of sight.

The father, who watched them as long as they could be seen, now politely turned, and, observing a stranger, who appeared to take an interest in his little daughter, addressed to me an invitation to walk in and rest, adding, that a foot journey of any distance was very fatiguing on so warm a day. What I had seen induced me to comply with his kind offer, and I soon found myself on the broad piazza engaged in conversation with my new friend. Mr. Elwood - for so I will call him-was a gentleman of very pleasing manners, and of extensive information. He talked upon a variety of subjects, and seemed familiar with them all; but what most charmed me was the tenderness which he manifested when speaking of his little girl. At such times his eye would glisten, and any one could see how deep and fervent was his love. My interest in his daughter led me to make many inquiries; and Mr. Elwood finding that I listened with pleasure to his recital, gave me a brief sketch of her life, mentioning with the greatest satisfaction the attention which she bestowed upon her studies, her kindness to her schoolmates, her respectful behaviour to her parents and to all who were older than herself, with many other endearing traits. I remember that I was especially delighted with one incident. Mr. Elwood mentioned that the generous and noble temper of his little girl displayed itself while she was yet at a very tender age. He stated that when Maria was not more than six years old, a poor man, whose cottage had been burned to the ground by an accidental fire, came to the house for assistance, and with great simplicity related

his misfortune. Maria was in the room, and listened with deep earnestness. As the poor man went on to speak of the alarm at midnight, and of the haste with which he aroused his family, and with his youngest child in his arms hurried out into the cold night air, the bosom of the little girl was seen to heave with sincere and deep emotion.

At length, when the unfortunate cottager added that nearly all of the few things which he had saved from the flames had been stolen from him by a heartless wretch, Maria's feelings could no longer be restrained: the tear started from her eyes, and with a trembling lip, she said, 'Father, I'll give that poor man my dollar; I will go up stairs this minute and bring it.'

Now this dollar had been given to Maria by her father, who promised that when she had gained one more, by good conduct and diligence at school, he would himself increase her savings to such a sum as would be sufficient for the purchase of an elegant and costly work-box. But the dollar was put into the poor man's hand, and was indeed the beginning of a subscription which finally restored the man and his family to a small

but comfortable home.

The time was spent so agreeably in listening to this and other pleasing recollections of Maria's childhood, that on leaving the house, I found that I had rested nearly an hour. I therefore quickened my pace. and in a few moments the cottage was left far behind.

As I proceeded, I discovered that a new subject of meditation occupied my mind. Instead of going first to one side of the road and then to the other, either to look at the mowers or to smell the fragrance of the gardens, I now walked steadily along the path, thinking most busily of the pleasant cottage, and of the child whose kindness and good behaviour made it such a happy home. Some of my youg readers may consider it strange that a person who had been talking only a few moments about a child, should go away and find himself able to think of nothing else. But so it was. At every step some new thought of the child seemed to arise. There were thoughts of her infancy, and of her parents watching over their sweet babe; then a thought of her plays and studies, of her morning and evening prayers to God that he would guide and keep her; and after all, a thought that appeared to shoot far ahead into the future, and to show Maria to me when she was no longer a little girl, but was grown to be an amiable and useful woman. All these thoughts were prompted by the sight of the child, and by the few moments' conversation with her father; all which should teach children how important it is that they should be good, in order that those who think about them may do so, not with pain, but with pleasure. While I was thus meditating upon the life of my young acquaintance, a sudden turn of the path brought into view a considerable portion of the road, and in the distance an object which I at once recognized to be the pony Robin. A single glance, too, was sufficient to show that his rider was no longer in the saddle, and I hastened on, hoping to find that she had dismounted to get a drink from the spring, or to gather a nosegay of wild flowers. In my anxiety I felt my heart beating violently; while something seemed to urge me forward with wonderful speed. Upon getting nearer, the pony was scen quietly cropping the grass by the wayside, and just off the road, my eye, which was now become dim with apprehension, rested on the outstretched form of the little girl.

(To be continued.)

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