Not long after the death of Mr. Adams a gentleman said to him:

'I have found out who made you?'
'What do you mean?' asked Mr. Adams.
The gentleman replied:

'I have been reading the published letters of your mother.'

'If,' this gentleman relates, 'I had spoken that dear name to some little boy who had been for weeks away from his mother, his eyes could not have flashed more brightly than did the eyes of that venerable old man when I pronounced the name of his mother.'

He stood up in his peculiar manner and said: 'Yes, sir; all that is good in me I owe to my mother.'

Dr. Chalmers' Little Boy.

[The late Dr. Chalmers is said to have been the author of the following beautiful lines, written on the occasion of the death of a young son, whom he greatly loved.]

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 the only sounds I hear;

And over my soul in its solitude
Sweet feelings of sadness glide;

For my heart and my eyes are full when I think
Of the little boy that died.

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.

I shall miss him when the flowers come
In the garden where he played;

I shall miss him more by the fireside,
When the flowers are 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.

We shall go home to our Father's house-
To our Father's house in the skies-
Where the hope of souls shall have no blight,
Our love no broken ties;

We shall roam on the banks of the river of peace,
And bathe in its blissful tide;
And one of the joys of life shall be
The little boy that died.

How one Drop of Honey caused a War.

ONCE upon a time a wandering fakir came to an Indian village. He was old and travel-worn. The people, thinking him a holy man, left their duties and followed him. As they crowded close upon him, praying his blessing, he cried, 'Avoid me, touch me not! I carry fire and fury and famine with me! They searched him, and found nothing but a string of beads, and a brass lota.

As the fakir passed a shop, he took a drop of honey from a jar, smeared it on a wall, and passed from the town. The honey attracted the flies. A lizard crept out of the wall, and ate the flies. A cat caught the lizard. A dog seeing the cat playing with her prey, came up and worried the cat. The owner of the cat and the owner of the dog interfered, and soon both animals lay dead in the street

and each man declared the other guilty of killing his favourite. The matter was taken before the judge, who unjustly decided in favour of the dog in spite of his being the offender. The villagers took sides on the question, and a riot ensued, houses were burned, gardens were destroyed, rice-fields despoiled. Soldiers were sent to quell the disturbance, but they took sides with the citizens and captured the fort. A neighbouring rajah, seeing his opportunity, marched against the town, burning and destroying as he went. The war spread through the province, lasting for months. Famine and pestilence seized upon those whom the sword spared. Then many remembered the fakir and his drop of honey. 'Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth.'

A Heroic Boy.

SOME years ago, on the frontiers of Ohio, when the country was rough and sparsely settled, there lived an industrious boy, the son of a poor widow, who exemplified a spirit of heroism and moral courage, that it would be well for every boy to imitate.

Upon one occasion a companion of his proposed to visit a mutual acquaintance in a distant part of the vicinity where they lived on the Sabbath. 'Not on Sunday,' said James.

'Why?'

'Because it is not right.'

31

respect the Sabbath and your mothers, and like this heroic boy, openly and frankly resist all temptations to wrong-doing, and never consent to anything that would be displeasing to your parents.

Sagacity of a Donkey.

We are accustomed to look upon the donkey as not only stubborn, but stupid; and, perhaps, the poor creature is as stupid as we take him to be. But I am inclined to the opinion that his stupidity is owing, in part at least, to our harsh and unkind treatment of him. We buffit and kick and starve the poor creature; we compel him to carry the heaviest burdens, to drudge at the hardest work until, if he have any soul in him, it must be almost killed, and then we say: What a stupid animal he is ! The fact is, we knock the sense out of him. How differently is he treated in some other countries in Spain, for instance. There he is petted, and becomes a great favourite, and among the peasants is regarded as almost one of the family. Owing to the treatment he there receives he often shows a wonderful amount of intelligence. We are told that a Spanish peasant who possessed a donkey was in the habit of journeying from his house to the city of Madrid for the purpose of selling milk; and every morning he and his donkey, with laden panniers, went their accustomed rounds. One day,

'We should not be any better, certainly, for doing that.'

'Nor any worse, in my opinion,' replied David. 'My mother would not consent to it,' continued James.

'I don't know whether mine would, and I don't care; I shant ask her,' said David.

'I never should go anywhere against my mother's advice,' continued James. I know what she thinks of the Sabbath, and I respect her feelings. I shan't go on Sunday.'

'And you can't go on any other day, because you have so much to do,' added David.

'Rather than go on Sunday I shall not go at all,' was James' emphatic reply. If I had no scruples of my own about it I would take no comfort, feeling that I went against my mother's wishes.'

This emphatic refusal ended the matter. It was an illustration of the noble character of James. Boys,

to send, was in rather a serious dilemma, when his wife suggested the donkey should be sent alone. Accordingly the panniers were filled as usual with the cans of milk, a piece of paper was attached, requesting customers to measure their own milk and return the cans, and the donkey started off. In a short time the faithful creature returned with the empty cans; and not only did it continue to do so for several days, but its master afterwards learned that it did not merely go the usual round and trust to the customers coming out to it in the road, but even had the sagacity to go up to their doors and ring their bells (which in Spain often pull downwards) with its mouth.

LIFE is made up not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things, of which smiles and kindness and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve the heart.-Sir Humphrey Davy.

The Sick Boy and the Bird. George.-Well, Tim, you seem to like the bird I sent

you.

Tim.-Yes, George, I like it very much, and I am so glad and thankful you made me a present

of it.

. George. Does it sing nicely? Tim.-Oh, yes, I cannot tell you how nicely it sings, and it begins very early. It commenced this morning just as the light was dawning, and woke me with its sweet notes. I did not know at first where I was, and wondered at first if I was in heaven.

George. Has it got to know you?

Tim.-I sometimes think it has. When I speak to it it turns its head and looks so knowing, as if it would say, Tim, I know you.

George. I am very glad I got you it, Tim. I thought it would cheer you a bit, and be a sort of companion to you when lonely, as I know you often must be.

So.

Tim.-Yes, George, I am often lonely, and I feel But I don't get cast down very much. I think of God's great love and of His promises, and I feel quite sure that all's right. But it was very kind of you to send me the bird. You could not have sent anything nicer. As you say, its just like a companion, and sometimes its notes make me feel quite cheery.

Mother. I'm sure, George, we are much obliged to you for the gift. It is a great comfort to Tim in his affliction, and I may say it is a comfort to myself. Its sweet song makes the house quite different to what it was. As I lay in bed early this morning listening to its song, it made me think of the birds I heard singing in the woods when I was a girl, and as I lay and thought the tears filled my eyes. But they were tears of gladness and of gratitude. Both Tim and I are much obliged to you for the bird.

The Merchant's Clerk.

CHAPTER IV.

THE next night when James was standing listlessly outside the clerks having all left and the house locked up for the night-Mr. Jones, the managing clerk, happened to espie him as he came out, and turning to him with a stern look, said, 'What are you hanging about here for? You're up to some

mischief, I know! Só be off home at once,' he added, as James did not offer to stir.

'I have no home, sir,' the boy replied sadly. 'No home! but at any rate you've a place to sleep in, so go there, for the streets are no place for youngsters like you to be out in at night. Now, are you going?

'Oh, yes, sir,' answered the boy, waking up as it were out of a dream, 'I'll go away from here if that's what you want. I stopped here all last night, and nobody said anything to me, so I thought I might do it again; but I'll move on, sir. Never fear.' Saying which, he turned away, the sound of his footsteps growing dimmer and dimmer as they died away in the silence of the night.

Mr. Jones watched him with a sort of pity for him springing up in his heart, for he had children of his own, and he thought what should he have felt had they been homeless and alone in the great city, like the one to whom he had just spoken. He walked home in a very meditative mood, almost passing his own door without being conscious that it was his, so absorbed were his thoughts. 'Tush' he said, half aloud as he went into his house, 'why should I trouble myself about the lad, he's nothing to me? And there are scores as bad off as he is. I will dismiss him from my mind.' But he could not altogether have done so, for next day found him closeted with Mr. Harvey, putting the boy's case before him.

'God bless my soul,' was his master's exclamation on hearing it, his florid countenance turning pale. 'What was I about not to have thought of that! Thoughtless thoughtless!' he muttered in an undertone, shaking his head gravely two or three times, then aloud, 'He must not be left in the streets at night again, Jones, on no account, on no account whatever. Who can tell what temptations might cross his path? No! no! a place must be found for him at once!'

'I was thinking, sir,' replied Mr. Jones respectfully, that there's a lumber room here, joining that which Summers occupies (one of the porters) where he might sleep at a night; it would be better than being out in the streets, and also, perhaps, better than some lodgings he might get into.'

'Right, Jones, right;' assented his master, 'give orders that it be cleared at once and made habitable. He'll be safe there,' added the old gentleman gravely; he can't get into mischief there.'

'Then that's settled, sir,' said Mr. Jones as he