THE EARWIG.

A SLIM little fellow, with brown shiny coat,
And a tail just like pincers, you often may note;
Shake the dahlia just gathered and out he will

fall,

And run for dear life to some hole in the wall.
In the peach that is ripe or the apple unsound
Enjoying his feast he may often be found;
The choicest of flowers, the most luscious of fruit
His taste and his appetite equally suit.

His dear friend, the gardener, sees with delight The traps full at morning he sets over-night; Crabs' claws or small flower-pots turned upside down

To shelter the creatures so shiny and brown. What he does with them all, why, I cannot well

say,

But it's quite a fresh lot that he gathers next day; He may just turn them loose in the garden, to find Safe shelter and food that is more to their mind.

And this is the earwig, which foolish folks say Through the gate of the ear to the brain makes its way,

And drives people mad, which no doubt it might do

If the well-guarded passage it e'er could get

through;

"Tis impossible quite, for the gate is so small And narrow, it seems scarce a passage at all, But a delicate tube through which sounds find a

way,

The news from without to the brain to convey.

And this is the earwig, so horny and slim,
With a case like brown mail upon body and limb;
The name should be Earwing, because the wings
spread,

Have a shape like the ear on the side of one's head;

A long kind of beetle, quite powerless to hurt, Very clean although living mid rubbish and dirt: You may touch him, and handle him, quite without fear,

And be sure that he'll never get into your ear.

QUITE ANOTHER THING.

LISTEN to a word of advice; for he who is wilful, and too wise in his own opinion to take counsel of another, is not likely to do well. Never be downhearted because things are a little dull or a little difficult, but try to make the best of them. A grape-vine at one time of the year looks like a dry stick; but when covered with fruit and green leaves, it is quite another thing.

When John Freeth first saw the village of Tibberton, it was on a dull and dark winter's day. The brook was frozen over, the icicles hung from

the thatch, and a thick fog hid the church-tower from being seen,-there were no leaves on the trees, no flowers in the fields, and no birds in the air. But when he next saw it, it was in summer, and the gray church-tower stood out clearly against the bright blue sky. It was quite another thing then-for the birds were singing, the brook was rippling on, and the fields were covered with flowers.

John Freeth is a stirring man. When he took his cottage, the garden had plenty of thistles, nettles, and bindweed in it, but he might have looked a long while for a rose or a cabbage-plant without finding it-a sad, ruinous place it was. But by the time he had dug it, weeded it, set his seeds and his plants, and repaired the crazy old summerarbour, it was quite another thing: it looked then as if somebody belonged to it.

When John Freeth entered on his cottage, it had been a long time without a tenant. The walls were rent, the doors and windows were broken, and the thatch let in the rain-it was quite enough to dishearten many from having anything to do with such a building; but, before John had done with it, he made it quite another thing. When it was thoroughly repaired and whitewashed, the woodbine neatly listed up against the walls, and the new thatch shining in the sun, a prettier place was hardly to be seen.

Those who had looked on the gloomy room on the ground floor when it was dark, dirty, and

without a chair or a table, found it to be quite another thing when the windows were cleaned, the walls nicely coloured, and the woodwork fresh painted. The furniture, too, and the fire glowing in the grate, gave it an air of cheerfulness.

And now, my young friends, as it was with John Freeth and his garden and cottage, so will it be with you, and with your heads and your hearts. If you are content to drag along with heavy heels, to let all things remain just as you find them, and to be conquered by whatever is a little difficult, you will become a burden to yourselves and all around you; but if, on the contrary, you bestir yourselves, determined to do what you can in the way of amendment, it will be quite another thing.

John Freeth would never have had a comfortable cottage and garden had he kept looking at them for a whole year; but, like a man, he set to work in good earnest, and soon tasted the sweets of his labour. Do the same, do the same. Get all the wisdom you can into your heads, and all the good qualities you can into your hearts. Without wisdom and good qualities you can never be happy, but with them it will be quite another thing.

The farmer gets his harvest by ploughing and sowing, the gardener by planting and pruning, the miner by digging and delving; and, depend upon it, the ploughers and sowers, the planters and pruners, the diggers and delvers, are worth more than all the idle people in the world put together. Where the sluggard and slothful live, weeds will

grow, but it is quite another thing where industry resides.*

THE BOY WHO HAD PRESENCE OF MIND. WILLIE HINTON carried a lighted candle to his bedroom one night and set it upon the table near his bed. After saying his prayers and undressing, he blew out the candle, and, jumping into bed, soon went to sleep.

In putting out the candle, Willie did not notice that he blew a spark from the wick into the folds of the bed-curtains. This spark did not go out, but sinking into the stuff of which the curtain was made, slowly set it on fire. The smoke filled the chamber, and woke the boy from his first nap. Starting from his pillow, he saw flames creeping up the bed-post!

What did he do? Most boys of his age would have rushed from the room, screaming. What did Willie Hinton do?

He leaped from his bed, ran to the door, and shouted, Father, father!' Then closing the door, he took the water-jug from his wash-stand, and, stepping upon the table, poured its contents steadily upon the flames. The effect was that when his father and mother entered the room a moment or two later, the fire was so far subdued that it was easily put out. Willie had saved the house from being burned.

Willie had presence of mind; that is, he thought

* Old Humphrey's Sketch Book.