They saw all a-round them green corn fields, and mead-ows a-dorned with a thou-sand flow-ers, and pas-tures up-on which young lambs were dan-cing, and wan-ton foals were skip-ping a-bout. They ate cher-ries and oth-er sum-mer fruit, and enjoyed them-selves right well the whole day.

"Don't you think," said his fa-ther, on their return, “that sum-mer al-so has its en-joyments?" "O," re-plied Er-nest, "I wish that it would always be sum-mer!"

.

He was o-bliged to write this al-so in his father's note-book. At last au-tumn came. The whole fam-i-ly spent a day in the vine-yard. It was not so hot as in sum-mer, and the air was mild and the heavens clear. The vines hung with ripe grapes; up-on the hot-beds were ly-ing savour-y mel-ons, and the boughs of the trees bent down with ripe fruit. That was in-deed a feast for Er-nest, who liked noth-ing so well as fruit. "This fair season," said his fa-ther, "will soon be gone; win-ter is al-read-y near at hand, in or-der to drive a-way au-tumn." "Ah!" said Er-nest, "I wish it would stay a-way, and that it would always be au-tumn!" "Do you re-al-ly wish that?" asked his fa-ther. "Re-al-ly," was his an-swer. "But," con-tin-ued his fa-ther, while he drew his note-book from his pock-et, "look one mo-ment what is written here; pray read.” “I wish that it might al-ways be winter!" "And now read here, what is written up-on this that it were al-ways spring!"

page." "I wish "And what is on

this page here ?" "I wish that it might al-ways be sum-mer!" "Do you know," he con-tin-ued, "the hand that wrote this?" "I wrote it," replied Er-nest. "And what did you write just now?" "I wished that it might al-ways be autumn!"

"That is ver-y sin-gu-lar," said his fa-ther. "In win-ter you wish it would al-ways be win-ter; in spring, that it would al-ways be spring; in summer, that it would al-ways be sum-mer; and in au-tumn, that it would al-ways be au-tumn. Consid-er what fol-lows from this-that all seasons of the year are good. Yes, that they are all rich in en-joy-ments, rich in bless-ings, and the great God un-der-stands the ma-king of worlds much bet-ter than we do. Had win-ter de-pend-ed upon you, then we would have had no spring, no sum-mer, no au-tumn. You would have be-decked the earth with an ev-er-last-ing snow, on-ly in order that you might ride in a sledge and make men of snow. And how man-y oth-er en-joyments would we then have been com-pelled to do with-out!"

THE KING IN HIS GARDEN.

THERE was once a king who had a very beau-tiful garden, and grounds ar-ranged with taste to please the eye, to af-ford re-fresh-ing shade, retired walks, com-mand-ing views; and be-sides, all the de-light-ful fruits that could be pro-duced.

There was one su-perb old oak, so high and grand that it could be seen for miles a-round. There were ro-ses, and li-lacs, and flow-er-ing shrubs of ev-er-y kind; in short, noth-ing was want-ing to make it a per-fect spot.

One day the king's head garden-er came in, and ex-claimed, “O king, pray come out and see what is the mat-ter with your garden; ev-er-y thing is with-er-ing, and droop-ing, and dy-ing." While he spoke, the oth-er garden-ers came rush-ing up, and all had the same sad sto-ry to tell. So the king went out, and there, to be sure, he found it all as they had said.

He went first up to his grand old oak-tree, his pride and ad-mir-a-tion, and said, "Why, oak, what's the mat-ter with you, that you are with-ering and dy-ing?" "O," said the oak, "I don't think I am of an-y use, I am so large and cumber-some; I bear no flow-ers or fruit, and I take up so much room; and be-sides, my branch-es spread so wide and thick, that it is all dark and sha-dy un-der them, and no flow-ers and fruit can grow there. Now, if I were a rose bush, it would · be worth while; for I should bear sweet flow-ers; or, if I were a peach or a pear tree, or even like the grape-vine, I could give you fruit."

Then the king went on to his fa-vour-ite rosebush, and said, "Well, rose-bush, what's the matter with you; why are you so droop-ing?" "Why," said the rose-bush, "I am of no use; I have no fruit, I bear noth-ing but some flow-ers. If I

were an oak, like that grand one in the mid-dle of the grounds, I should be of some use; for then I should be seen for miles a-round, and should do hon-our to your garden. But, as it is, I might just as well die."

The king next came to a grape-vine, no long-er cling-ing to the trel-lis and the trees, but trail-ing sad-ly on the ground. He stopped and said, "Grape-vine, what's the mat-ter with you? why are you ly-ing so dole-ful-ly on the ground?" "Ah," said the vine, "you see what a poor weak crea-ture I am I can't even hold up my own weight, but must cling to a tree or a post; and what good can I do? I nei-ther give shade like the oak, nor bear flow-ers like the shrubs. I can't even so much as make a bor-der for a walk, like the box. I must al-ways de-pend on some-thing else, and sure-ly I am of no use."

So on went the king, quite in de-spair to see all his place go-ing to de-struc-tion; but he sudden-ly spied a lit-tle heart's-ease, low down by the ground, with its face turned up to him, looking as bright and smi-ling as pos-si-ble. He stopped and said, "You dear lit-tle heart's-ease, what makes you look so bright and bloom-ing, when ev-er-y thing a-round you is with-er-ing away?" "Why," said the heart's-ease, "I thought you want-ed me here: if you had want-ed an oak, you would have plant-ed an a-corn; if you had want-ed ro-ses, you would have set out a rosebush; and if you had want-ed grapes, you wou'd

have put in a grape-vine. But I knew that what you want-ed of me was to be a heart's-ease; and so I thought I would try and be the very best lit-tle heart's-ease that ev-er I can.”

Chil-dren, can you see the mor-al? God didn't want a grown-up, learn-ed, rich, great man in the place where he put you; if he had, he would have made one. He wants each of you to be a child while you are a child; but he wants you to be a good child, and "the very best lit-tle heart'sease that ev-er you can.' American.

Try.

THE FISHERMAN'S PIOUS RESOLUTION.

A FISH-ER-MAN had been out on the lake from the ear-ly dawn of day, but had thrown his nets all day long in vain. He had not suc-ceed-ed in catch-ing a sin-gle fish.

When night came on, he sailed to-wards the vil-lage, and was filled with dis-ap-point-ment and vex-a-tion. "Per-haps," thought he, “I have such i suc-cess be-cause I have ne-glect-ed to ask the bless-ing of God up-on my toils, but hence-forth, I will take care not to ne-glect that."

Scarce-ly had he in-ward-ly formed this pi-ous res-ol-u-tion, when a beau-ti-ful fish, pur-sued by an-oth-er lar-ger and strong-er than it-self, leaped out of the wa-ter; and fall-ing in-to the boat, be-gan to frisk a-bout the feet of the fish-er-man, who was now full of joy. Schmid.