"Write injuries in dust, and kindnesses in marble."

W. We have had two lessons from that proverb, papa-we had a lesson from the first part, Write injuries in dust, and another lesson on the second part, Write kindnesses in marble.

P. True, Willie, and it is such a good proverb that we will have another lesson from itt-we will learn of both parts together. Write injuries in dust, and kindnesses in marble.

Ion. And it will make a good rule for us. I should like to think of it all the year round.

M. So should I, Ion-and so, that we may all remember it, I will tell you a true tale.

You know where Barnsbury Street is?

Ion. Yes, mamma.

Moral Lesson.

That boy at the crossing was a great hindrance, and always followed me across the road with his cap, if he saw that I wanted to make haste. When I had got across, you would soon have seen that we were going to school-not I, but we-ah, a great many of us.

soon heard little voices calling my name, and the sound of many little feet. On they came, running. Sometimes from two or three streets at once, would come Mary, Sammy, Phil, Fred, Katie, little Meg, and "her dumpling," the baby, with the servant girl dragging the twins in the chaise, and the great doll, while the old steady dog Boxer ran before, as if he were man enough to take care of them. So, often we would travel on like a great and mighty company.

W. Or like a caravan.

M. Yes until we reached

Barnsbury Street, where we saw a house numbered 34, with a great black board, and gilt letters put together, so!

VOL. II. No. 1.

dear old board that was-and such a merry school.

School! school! Who wouldn't

go to school? "Who would like to stop at home?" you would have said, if you had gone with me; for when we peeped inside there were always plenty of folk-Mrs. Marian, and great dame Patty, keeping school of their own accord, and teaching. 1st, Sophy, with the black hair and gipsy face; 2ndly, Sophy, with the curly hair and ruddy face; 3rdly, Baby Bruck, with her round twinkling eyes and fat face; 4thly, my own dear Joseph, and his sister Kate; 5thly, poor patient Jamie, who was lame, and had irons fastened to his legs; and so on up to 18thly or 19thly, where sat my great boy Robbie Young, with his broad shoulders and broad face, and sober " to do something" look. He, when he saw me, would open his great staring eyes-then, without saying a word, he would get up slowly from his seat, would come down the gallery with heavy cautious steps, looking at his feet, and taking only one stair at a time, whilst all the while he seemed to say, I am coming down "about something," until at last he reached the floor, when he would march up to me, put his fat hand in mine, and say, in his broad Scotch language, "How-do-you-do, Miss Why-i-ite?" Sometimes, when he was sociable, he would put up his face for a kiss.

mean

I cannot stop to tell you of all my children. When we began school, and I had cried "Stand to the line!" what a long row there was of feet with little black shoes and white socks. Ours were all growing children, for they had all begun to grow, but none of them had finished yet-it was not a

"finishing" school. Perhaps some of them were higher than the table. You shall hear now of something that happened.

Once it was my birthday. It was in the month of May, when the flowers grow; and always on my birth-day each child brought me a bunch of flowers for a keepsake. So on that morning, when I had received a great many beautiful flowers, and we were all standing to the line, one boy cried out, "Where are Henry and Fred?"

"Oh!" said one of the girls, "I think they will be here soonperhaps they are picking a very large nosegay."

He

"Yes," said another, " Harry told me yesterday that his papa's gardener was going to pick one for him from the green-house. will have some jonquils, hyacinths, auriculas, balsams, carnations, petunias, and a fine camellia. I shall be so glad when they come.'

"Perhaps, ma'am," said Marian, "the boy at the crossing has stopped them."

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"Oh," I said, "he could not be so rude as that."

is

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'But, ma'am," said another, "he often rude to Harry and Fred. He is not rude to me, because I come with the servant; but sometimes, when he sees Harry, he tries to stop him from crossing the road. Once he took away Fred's books, and splashed him with mud. When he sees them running he is sure to stop them. In the winter time, he makes them walk on the snow, and holds up his broom before their face, and says, 'Can't come across-can't come across-you'll be late-you'll have the stick;' and sometimes, when they are very early, he tells them they are late, to make them run faster."

boy, "he has taken their flowers away from them."

"And then," said another, "they will not like to come."

But, that very minute the school door opened, and in came Harry and Fred without any flowers!

They made their bow, and stood to the line not saying a word, except good morning; but they both looked down on the ground.

"Where's your nosegay ?" whispered a little girl to Henry.

"Have not got one," he said. "If-you-please, maaa-m,” cried great Robbie from the other end of the room-"they-have

not-brought-no-flowow-ers!" "Hush, Robbie, never mind, we are going to begin school," I said, so no one made any more remarks.

Ion. But, mamma, I should like to know why they came without the flowers.

M. Well, I will tell you; for I soon heard. They were coming to school with a very large nosegay, a very large one indeed, and were running that they might not be late, when they saw their old enemy the crossing-sweeper.

W. Were they not afraid, mamma ?

M. No: for he was sitting down on a door-step, with his head resting on his knees, and they were going to run past him when Harry said to Fred, "Oh, he will not hurt us-let us stop-I wonder what he is crying for."

"What is the matter ?" said Fred to him.

"Mind your own business," said the boy without looking up; "go on to school."

But just as they were going away he caught sight of their flowers, and called them back.

"Don't go," said Fred, "he's a wicked boy-we can't help him."

NATURAL HISTORY.

And they were going on when Harry looked again and saw him crying, so they returned.

The boy then told them that he was very hungry, and what was worse, that his mother was at home ill, and his grandmother too, and they were very hungry. He told them, too, that last week a new policeman had turned him away from his crossing because a woman had said it belonged to her; and that he had not earned any money for three days.

When Harry heard this, he said "Poor fellow." He forgot how bad the boy had been, and only wished he had a penny. Both he and Fred looked at their flowers, and the boy too looked at the grand camellia.

"He can't have our flowers you know," said Fred, "we want them for our teacher. Besides, she is kinder to us than he is."

"And then," said Harry, "we said that ours should be the finest nosegay. I want to show her how much I love her."

So they walked away slowly, but the boy looked after them with a longing eye.

"I say that he does not deserve to be helped," said Fred.

"And so do I," said Harry-"and then these flowers are too good to give to him;" but still they did not feel quite comfortable in their minds-selfishness did not make them happy.

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"We have no right," said Henry again, to punish him, it is only God who is good enough to punish. Don't you remember our lesson at school yesterday? If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your heavenly Father forgive you.' Here, Fred!-take them to him."

So, looking back and seeing that the boy, who was very near them,

was looking earnestly through some railings into a kitchen, Fred went up to him and put the flowers into his hand.

Then, making haste back to Henry, they both ran off to school very quickly, without stopping to hear his thanks, or to see the tears in his eyes. Ah, how happy they both were, they looked at each other so gladly.

W. How did you know this, mamma?

M. I will tell you. We were having our Bible lesson at school, and no one had been able to say a word about the flowers, when their papa came in with the nosegay in his hand. He had bought it of the boy for a shilling, and heard the whole history from him.

When we all heard it in school, we were pleased to see the flowers; but do you know what pleased us more?

L. Yes. Harry and Fred pleased you most. You liked to think of them, because they had been so good to the boy.

did. marble.

Ion. And because they had written his injuries in the dust. M. And, I'll tell you what we We wrote their kindness in We remembered it for a long time. We talked next day of the words of our Saviour, who said, "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you."

But some one else wrote their kindnesses in marble.

Ion. Yes, GoD did, mamma. M. True, Ion, and that was a good thing. And not only God, but that poor boy did. The re

membrance of that kindness would never leave him, it was always doing him good; it was inside him, like a medicine to his soul, keeping him from being unkind.

He regained his crossing, but now, as Harry and Fred passed every day, he always touched his hat to them; and, when their little sister Mary came to school with them, the poor boy would watch for her in dirty weather, that he might carry her across the road.

In time, he became so kind to them, that when their father heard of it, he engaged him to clean the boots and shoes at their house; he gave his mother some washing to do, and put his grandmother in an almshouse.

I think that after that the boy grew up to be very good, and became a gentleman's servant.

"Ah," I once said to Fred, when he was a man-"that boy might have been a beggar all his life, even a bad man, and a thief perhaps, but for your writing his injuries in the dust."

"Yes," said Fred, "and I have found out a good plan now, when any man injures me. I always write his injuries in the dust, and that does me good.

"Then, when I do that he writes my kindnesses in marble-and that does him good-very great good too-it makes him much better."

Dear Lucy, Willie, Ion, and Ada, ask God to help you to do so all this year. So, out of injuries will grow kindness, and out of evil will come—

L. Good.

SHERIDAN,

M. And the class called mammals may be arranged into

Ion. Twelve smaller classes, called orders. And we learned about the animals in the first order. I will describe them.

The animals in the first order of mammals are superior to any of the others, for they have souls which can never die-and besides that, they have minds which think and reason very much, while the other animals act chiefly from instinct.

So, as their minds think many thoughts, they have hands at the extremities of their fore-limbs, which perform many actions, while they only use their hind-limbs for walking.

Again: as they only use their two limbs for walking, we find that their bodies have an upright posture-such animals are called

Natural History.

W. Mamma, excuse my interrupting you

M. Well!

W. But, I was thinking-will you let us bring down the great monkey from papa's room-the stuffed one in the glass case!

M. But it is as tall as a manyou cannot carry it down stairssuppose we go up to it.

W. Here he is, mamma, with his name "Chimpanzee."

L. I should think, mamma, that such a fine intelligent fellow would be able to give his own history, just as the Butterfly did. Please let