Something is dropping from his mouth: what is it? Why did he drop it? What kind of dog would you call him? How was he punished?

"I NEVER knew before, Cecil, that you were so fond of drawing," said Aunt Sophia, as she looked over the shoulder of her nephew, who was busy with his pencil. "You really have made great pro

"I need to do so," cried Cecil, "if I am to carry off the prize for drawing, as I am * resolved to do this

"I should have thought," said the aunt, "that you had little chance against Lee. He is an artist's son, and has used the pencil, one might almost say, from his cradle."

"That will double the pleasure of beating him! cried Cecil, dashing* the bough of a tree into his picture, as if he meant what he said. "I'm work

ing now at this four hours a day; he never draws more than two."

"You are not neglecting* your Latin for it, I hope? You have had the Latin prize every term for these three years past," said Aunt Sophia.

“Yes,” replied Cecil, with a proud smile; "there is no boy in our class can match me in that, though Russell is now working hard. But I am not content with one prize: I cannot rest till I have won the paint-box for drawing, of which Tom Lee makes so sure. It would be glorious to beat the son of an artist on his own ground!"

*

"Take care," said his aunt, gently laying her hand on his shoulder, "that you do not lose the Latin prize, in trying for that which you are not likely to gain. Remember the fable of the dog that dropped the substance, in catching at the shadow." On the evening of the day on which the names of the prize-winners were read out, Cecil came home from school gloomy and grave. His looks told his aunt enough to make her spare him the pain of questions; but his little sister Rosey was not so thoughtful.

"O Cecil," she cried, running eagerly up to him, "tell me, are you to get the two prizes?"

"No," said Cecil, with a growl.

"Only one," cried the child in a sorrowful tone. "Not one," muttered* the boy. "I was so busy trying to beat Lee, that I could not hold my ground against Russell.”

Cecil flung himself on a chair, in so angry a mood that even Rosey did not dare to question him further.

Their aunt silently hoped that the lesson might prove worth the pain which it cost, and that the ambitious* boy might not again need to be reminded of the dog in the fable.

A. L. O. E.

QUESTIONS.-Cecil had always taken the ? prize. He was now determined to carry off the

He worked hard at his ?

? as well.

Cor-al strand, shore or beach formed | Gleams, shoots forth rays of light.

of coral covered with earth, as the South Sea Islands are. Fade-less, never-dying. Fire-flies, small beetles, common in South America, which send forth from their bodies a bright light of a greenish yellow colour. Fra-grant, sweet-smelling.

Hues, colours.

Per-fume', fill with sweet smell.
Pic-ture, imagine; paint in fancy.
Ra-di-ant, bright; glittering.
Re-gion, country; division of the

Earth.

Ru-by, a precious stone of a dark red colour.

"I HEAR thee speak of the Better Land,
Thou call'st its children a happy band;
Mother, oh! where is that radiant* shore?
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies* glance through the myrtle boughs?"
“Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or 'midst the green islands on glittering seas,
Where fragrant* forests perfume* the breeze,
And strange bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"

“Not there, not there, my child !”

“Is it far away in some region* old,
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold;
Where the burning rays of the ruby* shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams* forth from the coral* strand;
Is it there, sweet mother, that Better Land?"
"Not there, not there, my child !—

"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy;
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture* a world so fair:
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless* bloom;
For beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb-
It is there, it is there, my child!"

THE ENGLISH GIRL AND HER AYAH.

At-tract-ed, taken; held; engaged.
A-yah, native Indian nurse.
Fawn, a young deer.

A LITTLE English girl in

Jungle, waste land overgrown with
tall grass and brushwood.
Mor-tal-ly, so as to cause death.

India was one day play

ing outside her father's tent, near the edge of a jungle.* Her attention was attracted* by a beautiful little fawn,* that seemed too young to run about, and which stood timidly gazing at the child with its soft, dark eyes.

The girl moved towards it; but the fawn started back, with a frightened look, and fled. The child gave chase; but the fawn was soon hid among the tall reeds and grass of the jungle.

When the girl's ayah* missed her charge, she quickly hurried after her. But, so eager had the child been in chasing the fawn, that she was some distance from the tent before the ayah overtook her. Catching up the girl in her arms, she tried to return; but the grass and reeds around grew so high that she could scarcely see two yards before her.

She walked some steps with the little girl in her arms; then stopped, and looked round with a frightened air. "We are lost!" cried the poor Hindoo, "lost in the dreadful jungle!"

"Do not be so frightened, Motee," said the fairhaired English girl; "God can save us, and show us the way back."

The little child could feel, as the Hindoo could not, that, even in that lonely jungle, a great and