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anything, or go anywhere. He is sometimes very playful, and rather tiresome; and once he ran away from me. You will hardly believe it, sir, but there were more than fifty people after him, trying in vain to stop him; yet he turned back of himself, and never stopped till he ran his head kindly into my bosom."

We hope that all our readers will, take an interest in promoting kindness to the poor ill-used donkeys. It is sad to see the poor animals so often overladen and cruelly beaten.

ADA'S LESSON.

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“Man's chief end is to glorify God, and enjoy him for ever.” This was little Ada's lesson in the Catechism.

But," said she, “there is nothing here for children to do, it is all man’s. I suppose because we are not big enough.

The children are not left out.' Oh, no. To glorify God is to honour him. It is trying to please God. It is not hard to make people happy. That is just what little children can do.

Our doctor advertised for a boy. He was hard to suit. One boy after another went to live with him, and soon left. At last James offered, the son of a pious widow. “ You won't stay,” said the other boys," he is a cross old man. " James was almost sorry he was going. He went, however. I asked the doctor one day how he liked his new hand. “I would not part with him on any account; he does honour to his bringing up," said the doctor. You see his good behaviour was a praise to his mother. In 3 like manner the Christian conduct of a child may praise God; in other words, glorify him.-Children's Friend.

FLATTERY IS POISON.

WAILE we listen to the din of our own praises, we shall feel a fire that consumes the heart, rather than a shower that refreshes it. - Campbell.

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FROST and snow have come again. Many poor families are ill prepared for them. How many fathers who last winter could buy food, and clothing, and shoes, and coals for their children, are this winter almost starving. From want of work they are in deep poverty. They see their wives and children pining away around them, in cold and hunger.

Let those of our readers who have comfortable houses be very thankful. Let then think on their poorer neighbours, and do what they can to help them. Let God's kindness make them kind even to the birds and beasts. Let them not waste even the crumbs. Here is a little bird getting some at a cottage door. How glad he seems to get thein !

THE LITTLE OUTCAST. ** MAYN'T I stay, ma'am ? I'll work; cut wood, go for water, and do all your errands."

The troubled eyes of the speaker were filled with tears. It was a lad that stood, one cold day in winter, at the outer door of a cottage on a bleak moor in Scotland. The snow bad been falling fast, and the poor boy looked very cold and hungry.

You may come in at any rate till ray husband comes home. There, sit down by the fire ; you look perishing with cold;" and she drew a chair up to the warmest corner; then, suspiciously glancing at the boy from the corners of her eyes, she continued setting the table for supper.

Presently came the tramp of heavy boots, and the door was swung open with a quick jerk, and the husband entered, wearied with his day's work.

A look of intelligence passed between his wife and himself. He looked at the boy, but did not seem very well pleased : he nevertheless made him come to the table, and was glad to see how heartily he ate his supper.

Day after day passed, and yet the boy begged to be kept “ until to-morrow;" so the good couple, after due consideration, concluded that, as long as he was such a good boy, and worked so willingly, they would keep him.

One day, in the middle of winter, a pedlar, who often traded at the cottage, called, and after disposing of several of his goods, was preparing to go, when he said to the woman, —

“ You have a boy out there, splitting wood, I see,” pointing to the yard.

know him ? I have seen him," replied the pedlar.

do you

6. Yes,

6 Where? Who is he? What is he?"

“ A jail-bird ;" and the pedlar swang his pack over his shoulder. “That boy, young as he looks, I saw in court myself, and heard him sentenced—'ten months.' You'd do well to look carefully after him.”

Oh! there was something so dreadful in the word jail : the poor woman trembled as she laid away the things she had bought of the pedlar; nor could she be easy till she bad called the boy in, and assured him that she knew that dark part of his history.

Ashamed and distressed, the boy hung down his head; his cheeks seemed bursting with the hot blood, and his lips quivered. “Well,” he muttered, his whole frame shaking, “there's no use in my trying to do better; everybody hates and despises me; nobody cares about

me.”

Tell me,” said the woman, “how came you to go so young to that dreadful place? Where is your mother ?"

“Oh !” exclaimed the boy, with a burst of grief. “Oh! I haven't no mother! I haven't no mother ever since I was a baby. If I'd only had a mother,” he continued, while tears gushed from his eyes, I wouldn't have been bound out, and kicked, and cuffed, and horsewhipped. I wouldn't have been impudent, and got knocked down, and run away, and then stole, because I was hungry. Oh! if I'd only a mother."

The strength was gone from the poor boy, and he sapk on his knees, sobbing great choking sobs, and rub. bing the hot tears away with the sleeve of his jacket.

The woman was a mother, and though all her children slept under the cold sod in the churchyard, she was a mother still. She put her hand kindly on the head of the boy, and told him to look up, and said from that time he should find in her a mother. Yes, she even put her arm round the neck of that forsaken, deserted child;

she poured from her mother's heart sweet kind words, words of counsel and tenderness. Ob ! how sweet was her sleep that night; how soft her pillow ! She had plucked some thorns from the path of a little sinning, but striving mortal.

That poor boy is now a promising man. His fosterfather is dead, his foster-mother aged and sickly, but she knows no want. The “poor outcast” is her support. Nobly does he repay the trust reposed in him.

“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up."Children's Friend.

THINK WHAT TO SAY.

XENOCRATES, an ancient philosoper, used to divide each day of his life into several parts, appointing each part to its proper engagement. One part he assigned to Silence, -wherein to think what to say. If the example of this great man, in this particular, was followed by every ove, what happy scenes would many families present !

THE LITTLE BOY WHO HAD NEVER HEARD

OF JESUS. He was not born in the world's dark ages, when there were no Sabbath-schools, and but few Bibles. He lived not in a heathen land, in pagan Africa, or benighted India. Nor did he dwell in a gipsy tent, or in an Irish mud-cottage. It was just outside an English town that I met him, one beautiful afternoon in June. He was a rosy-cheeked, sharp-looking little fellow, and his bright eyes told of intelligence within. As I came up to him on the foothpath, I said, “ Do you go to the Sabbath school, my little boy?”

No, sir," was the answer.
“Well, can you tell me who made you ?" I asked.

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