cloud of spray, the enjoyment was intense. I not only saw the watery curtain before me like tempest-driven snow, but, by momentary glances, could see the crystal roof of this most wonderful of Nature's palaces. The precise point where the flood quitted the rock, was marked by a gush of silvery light, which of course was brighter where the waters were shooting forward, than below where they fell perpendicularly."

Several fatal accidents have happened at these falls. A tradition tells of an Indian, who, getting unwittingly within reach of the rapids, and finding escape impossible, sat singing in his canoe till it glided over the fall, bearing him, in a single moment, and without a single pain to eternity. Chateaubriand almost lost his life here, through his horse getting frightened by a snake, and was saved only by the animal suddenly perceiving the new danger, and springing by a pirouette ten feet away from the abyss. The cutting away of the rock is so rapid that the fall recedes at the rate of about fifty feet in forty years, so that for the falls to recede to Lake Erie, a distance of twenty-five miles, will require a period of 35,000 years, when the lake will be drained of its contents, and the country (if preserving its present features) will be submerged and partly destroyed by the inundation.

GENEROSITY.

ONE morning Horace was seated before his writing-desk in his uncle's library, with his head leaning on his hands in an attitude of deep thought; then rising, he pushed aside the desk and walked about the room with slow steps. His uncle who was present, asked him, What was the matter?

"I am in perplexity about an essay that must be written during the holidays," said Horace, "the subject is 'Generosity. When it was given out I thought it was so easy that it would not give me an hour's trouble; I had floating ideas in my mind about Cæsar and Alcibiades, and

thought I could write a fine thing on the subject, but I do not find it quite so easy as I imagined.”

"Has your master given you any rules for your composition?" asked his uncle.

"Only that it must not exceed two pages, for he likes us to be brief, and that we must give an example of generosity from a well-known author. As to anything else he has left us quite at liberty, the example may be taken

from any book in any language."

"I like this kind of task very much," said his uncle, "it exercises your memory and accustoms you to reflect on what you have read, and I am of your master's opinion too about its being short; it is always best to say what you have to say in as few words as possible. But what perplexes you Horace."

Why uncle, it is not quite such an easy matter to define generosity as I thought, it is difficult to discover what is true generosity. So many apparently generous things have been done from wrong motives: a love of popularity, a wish to be admired, or even some worse motive, and that you know is only selfishness in another shape after all. If we are to exclude ambition and the love of applause as motives, I am afraid I must give up my two Heroes Cesar and Alcibiades after all."

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Very probably," replied his uncle, "generous is a word often misapplied; if a man gives largely to any good object from a wish to stand well in the opinion of the public, he is not generous, he is only selfish. When rich | people give magnificent entertainments and invite their friends to enjoy them, it is often not from generosity but from ostentation; and when a wealthy person gives a costly present, it is often neither from affection nor generosity but simply from vanity.”

"But, uncle, if we invite others to share our pleasures, is there not a kind of generosity in this?"

"No, my dear Horace, not unless we do it in the way spoken of in St. Luke's Gospel: When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours, lest they

also bid thee again and a recompense be made thee: but when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and thou shalt be blessed, for they cannot recompense thee, for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.'" Luke xiv. 12-14.

'Then, uncle, you think that there can be no generosity without self-denial."

"Certainly not. If you give of your abundance only what you never miss, this is not generous. To be truly generous we must deprive ourselves of some enjoyment, or sacrifice some taste or feeling for the benefit of others, and that, too, from a proper motive."

"Then I must give up Cæsar and Alcibiades," said Horace sadly, "and choose some other hero."

All that day and the next he laboured at his essay, and after many attempts-after choosing and rejecting many heroes in succession, and burning many a page, he fixed on the example of a person who had left a very large fortune to a public charity, besides giving a great deal during his lifetime. Horace did not yet fully understand the subject he forgot that the motive must be clear and undoubted.

The important day came when the prize was to be given for the essays composed during the holidays. All the school was assembled; the master was seated at his desk, with a large pile of papers before him.

"Well, boys," said he, "I have examined all the essays sent in, with the greatest attention. There is something creditable in all of them. You have given me many instances of apparently generous actions involving selfdenial, of which we cannot know the motive, because we cannot see the heart; and, on the other hand, many things done evidently from a good motive, but involving no selfdenial. In one essay only I have found generosity viewed in its twofold aspect,- -a self-denying act, done from a proper motive, with the testimony as to the purity of motive from One who knew the heart. This essay is the composition of the youngest boy among you, and to it I shall adjudge the prize, as in my opinion it comes nearest to the

rules which I gave you for the essay. These were, 1st, Brevity; 2d, An example judiciously chosen from a wellknown book. The composition is sufficiently short, and I will read it to you.

"❝GENEROSITY.

"Generosity is liberality without ostentation; selfdenial, from love to God and our neighbour.

"And he looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury. And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two mites. And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in more than they all; for all these have of their abundance cast in unto the offerings of God; but she of her penury hath cast in all the living that she had."" (Luke xxi. 1-4.) The master had scarcely ceased reading, when approval of his decision was shown by the loud applause of many young voices.

HYMN.

We are not orphans on the earth,
Though friends and parents die ;
One Parent never bows to death,
One Friend is ever nigh-

Even He who lit the stars of old,
And filled the ocean broad,

Whose works and ways are manifold—
Our Father is our God.

There comes no change upon his years,

No failure to his hand;
His love will lighten all our cares,
His law our steps command-

And One who for our sakes the gloom
Of death's dark valley trod,

Will bring us safe at last to Him,

Our Father and our God.

JETTY AND THE BEE.

We have a beautiful, little Blenheim spaniel, with such bright black hair that we call her Jetty. She has long ears, black sparkling eyes, a white breast, brown silky paws, and a brown spot over each eye. She is only about the size of your frisky kitten, although she is several old.

years

Jetty was rather melancholy yesterday, and not inclined to eat her breakfast, so I gave her a little bit of sugar; and she liked the sweetness so much, that she thought she would have something else that was sweet,-something of her own choosing. Well, she trotted down stairs, but presently returned, shaking her ears, and looking as if her mouth had been hurt. Then she carefully laid a treasure upon the carpet, turned it over with her nose, and shook her ears again. What do you think she had got? A great bumble bee ! I suppose she had licked some honey off its legs; but, alas! it had stung her tongue.

Little children, beware of stolen sweets! There is often a sting in them!

ILLUSTRATIVE STORY.

It was a sad sight to see little Harry gazing in wild amazement at his weeping mother, and vainly trying to comfort her, saying, "Don't cry, dear mamma ;" and then to see her clasp her little boy to her bosom, and exclaim, in a burst of grief, "My boy, my own dear boy, you have no father now to care for you!" That morning a letter had told that Harry's father had died of a fever in India.

But months had passed away, and it was a pleasant sight to see that mother, in her widow's dress, her pale face calmed and brightened by thoughts of the better land, sitting with little Harry on her knee, telling of a "Father in heaven who could never die."

It was Sabbath evening, the sun was sinking in the west among soft downy clouds, and his rays, passing through the open window, rested on the boy's fair face, making it fairer still.