OHNNY NUTTALL is an orphan boy, who tries to earn an honest living by selling apples, oranges, or any other kind of fruit. The people mostly call him "Sunshine," because he has such a merry face, and answers every inquiry with cheerful speech. His clothes are ragged, as you may see in the engraving, and a deal too small for him; but he is never dirty if he can help it, and if you were to ask him how it is that he is so careful to wash his face and comb his hair, seeing that his clothes are so badly torn, he would no doubt reply that he cannot afford new clothes as yet, nor can he help growing so much faster than his old ones do; but that if clothes are scarce, soap is cheap enough and water plentiful; and then his voice would shake a little as he added

"You see, sir, I like to be nice and cleanly because mother would not be pleased if she knew that I was careless, and did not wash in the morning when I said my prayers."

Sunshine thinks much about his mother and of the prayers she taught him before she died and went to meet his father, who had gone before her to the home in heaven. When his father lay upon the sick-bed, and knew that he could not recover, he often talked with his wife about Johnny, who was only a baby then, and urged her to bring him up so that he might fear the Lord; and she readily promised that she would, for she was a godly woman and as anxious as his father was that Johnny should grow up to be a good man. When her husband died she worked hard to earn money that she might buy bread for both; but after a time she too fell sick, through having too much work, the doctor said, and at length she also was called to die and leave Sunshine behind, without any near relative to care for him. He had grown big enough

then to understand his mother's teachings, and he never forgot the solemn but sweet seasons they had together, when he sat reading the Bible, and his mother sought to explain the lessons of that blessed Book.

It was a sad, sad day for Johnny when his mother died, and he felt his utter loneliness; but it had been arranged that he should go to the house of a kind neighbour, who had promised that he should never want a corner to sleep in while he was wellbehaved and did his best to get on. He had gone out with fruit before, so he knew a little about it; and now he is up and away betimes each morning, because he says his mother used to explain that when we pray, "Give us this day our daily bread," it means that we wish God to put us in the way of getting it, and so enjoying it.

Sunshine has plans in his head, little as he yet is, and indulges in the luxury of a day-dream as much as the oldest or the richest. He cannot save a great deal just now, he says, for small boys have large appetites, especially when they have to be knocking about all day, as he has to be; but he has a few shillings laid by, and in a while he hopes to buy a donkey, and sell fruit on a larger scale. And who knows, as he very pleasantly put it when I was talking with him the other day

HIS is the baby-hear how he crows!
He laughs all down, from the top of
his crown

To the ends of his comical little pink toes.
He came to this world to take a survey,
And he finds it so funny he thinks he'll stay.
At first he was filled with a mild surprise,
He opened his mouth, and he opened his

eyes,

He looked and he wondered, and sucked his thumb,

And to this conclusion he's finally come-
That it's all a joke. Give him a poke—
The sly little rogue! he knows, he knows,
It's the funniest world he's been in yet.
He thinks all the people a very queer set,
And he chuckles and laughs, and thrives
and grows

On nothing but laughter. I do suppose
That in thinking it over he can't keep sober.
Even in sleep he seems to keep

A faint remembrance of something he's heard;

The ghost of a joke that was very absurd
Haunts his repose.

For three little dimples steal out and in,
Two in his cheeks and one in his chin,
And his face reflects the light that gleams
On the sunny side of the land of dreams.
When he wakes it will be to laugh;
He's always at it-I can't tell the half.
I'm sure he knows

That little old woman with bells on her toes; He's coaxed her, and hoaxed her, and stolen the trick

Of making music wherever he goes.

The brightest, sunniest, merriest, funniest, Most nonsensical mite of a man

That anyone knows!

The cunningest, craziest, tipsiest elf!
When other folks fail him he'll laugh at
himself.

What do you think? Tip him a wink,
And off he goes!

Roll him and rumple him, toss him and tumble him,

Hear how he crows!

He laughs all down from the top of his

crown

To the ends of his comical little pink toes.

ITTLE DAISY and her mamma waited on the platform for the cars to get ready to take them to grandpa's. The engine, a few yards off, was puffing and hissing pleasantly, as though it was glad to get a rest; for this was a "half-way station," and here those who travelled expected "ten minutes for refreshments,"

The eating-house had swallowed all the passengers but one. This one was a finelooking, middle-aged gentleman, but his head was bent low, and his face looked as the sky does when thick clouds cover it.

ORDS.

He walked up and down with long steps, but did not once look at Daisy. He muttered to himself, but did not seem to hear nor see anything.

Little Daisy saw the trouble in his face, and her baby heart (she was only a year and a half old) longed to comfort him. She slipped her hand from mamma's, and when he again came near she took a step or two forward, made a quaint little bow, and cooed out in her sweetest tones, "How do ?"

The gentleman stopped, and looked at her, the trouble still in his eyes.

"How do ?" Daisy again lisped, as her sweet, grave face looked up at him.

"How do you do, my little lady?" he asked in pleased surprise, as he held out his hand to her.

"Pitty 'ell," she returned politely, putting her tiny hand in his. The darkest clouds had all gone from his face now.

"Ou solly (sorry)? I solly, too!" were her next words.

With a flash of light in his eyes, and something like a sob in his voice, the stranger caught her up in his arms tenderly. "I 'ove 'ou," she said; and she laid her soft cheek lovingly against his.

"Her sweet words have done me more good than I can ever tell, madam,” the gentleman said, as he put Daisy in her mother's arms and hurried into another

car.

What battle was going on in his soul that the little one had helped him to win, or what trouble she had lifted from his heart, we will never know this side of heaven; but we cannot doubt that God sometimes makes children "ministering spirits to them who shall be heirs of salvation." How true that "heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop! but a good word maketh it glad."— Jessie Maggregor.

WISH that pony was mine," said a little boy, who stood at a window looking down the road.

"What would you do with him?" asked his brother.

“Ride him; that's what I'd do." "All day long ?"

"Yes, from morning till night."

"You'd have to let me ride him sometimes," said the brother.

"Why would I? You'd have no right in him if he was mine."

"Father would make you let me have him part of the time."

"No, he wouldn't!"

"My children," said the mother, who was listening, "let me tell you of a quarrel between two boys no bigger nor older than you are, that I read about the other day. They were going along the road, talking together in a pleasant way, when one of them said

I wish I had all the pasture-land in the world.'