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not out of the wa-ter, like birds and fish-es. In-sects are small, and creep upon the earth; such as ants. Some in-sects can fly al-so; such as bees and but-terflies. The bee sucks the juice of flowers, and makes wax and hon-ey. How gay are the wings of the butter-fly! they are covered with little feath-ers, too small to be seen. All the in-sects were good and pret-ty when God made them.

At last God made the beasts. They came out of the earth when God spoke. Beasts walk upon the earth : most of them have four legs. You know the names of a great many sorts of beasts. Sheep and cows, dogs and cats, are beasts. But there are many other sorts be-sides. The squir-rel that jumps from bough to bough, the rab-bit that lives in a hole un-der ground, and the goat that climbs the high hills; the stag with his beau-ti-ful horns, the li-on with his yel-low hair, the ti-ger whose skin is marked with stripes. The el-e-phant is the lar-gest of the beasts, the li-on is the strong-est, the dog is the most sen-si-ble, the stag is the most beau-ti-ful, but the lamb is the gen-tlest. The dove is the gen-tlest of the birds, and the lamb is the gen-tlest of the beasts. Now God had filled the world with liv-ing crea-tures, and they were all good: even li-ons and ti-gers were good and harm-less. I have told you of four sorts of living crea-tures. Fish-es. Birds. In-sects. Beasts.—"Peep of Day."


In a dark night there was once a ship com-ing in-to one of our har-bours. She had been to In-di-a on a long voy-age, and had been gone a year or two. She had a very cost-ly car-go, or load, on board. The captain and

all in her were ho-ping and ex-pect-ing soon to see their friends and their homes. The sail-ors had brought out their best clothes, and were clean and neat. As they came bound-ing a-long o-ver the foam-ing wa-ters, and drew near to the land, the cap-tain told a man to go to the top of the mast and “look out for the light-house." The light-house is a high, round kind of tower, built out on the points of the land, with great lamps light-od every night in its top, so that ves-sels may see it be-fore they get too near the land. This light-house stood at the en-trance of the har-bour. Soon the man cried out, “Light a-head!” Then they all re-joiced, and knew they were near the har-bour.

While they had been gone, thiş light-house had been re-moved to an-oth-er place, a-way from where it was when they sailed. But the cap-tain knew noth-ing a-bout that. So they kept sail-ing in what they sup. posed was the old way. In a short time the man at the mast-head cries out, “ Break-ers a-head!” that is, rocks just be-fore us, “and the ship is just on them !” The cap-tain cast his eye out on the dark wa-ters, and saw the white foam on the rocks. In a mo-ment he cries out, “Star-board the helm.” Now see how much may hang on one lit-tle word. The man at the helm mis. took the word, and thought the cap-tain said, “Lar-board the helm.” So he turned it the wrong way. It was done in a moment, in the twink-ling of an eye. But it was turned the wrong way, and the ship struck on the rocks the next mo-ment, and was dashed in a thou-sand pie-ces. The car-go was lost, and ev-er-y soul on board, ex-cept one or two, was drowned. All this hung up-on one lit-tle word, or lit-tle mis-take. If that word had been un-der-stood right, she would not have been lost.

One sin-gle mis-take, small as it seemed to be, brought about all this ru-in and death. Do you not see how plain it is, that great re-sults may turn upon very small things? One mo-ment of time turned the scale, and prop-er-ty and lives all go down into the deep. There the goods are des-troyed, and there the hu-man be-ings sleep till the great morn-ing of the res-ur-rec-tion day. Todd.


* Al-most ev-er-y-bod-y has heard of the no-ble and ex-cel-lent Mrs. Fry, and of her visits to the pris-on-ers at New-gate. No-bod-y took an-y in-ter-est in these poor "Crea-tures, and they were treat-ed with great harsh-ness and cru-el-ty. The con-se-quence of this was, that they be-came so vi-o-lent and des-per-ate, that ever-y-bod-y was a-fraid of them, and there was the great-est dif-ficul-ty in man-ag-ing them. The keep-ers of the prison were a-fraid to go in, e-ven with the food of the pris-oners, un-less they had with them a guard of sol-diers with "load-ed mus-kets. But Mrs. Fry re-solved to go in "a-mong these des-per-ate crea-tures and try to do them 'good. Her friends were a-larmed when they heard of her in-ten-tion. They told her she would cer-tain-ly be in-sult-ed, or in-jured, if not killed; and tried to persuade her not to go. But she was re-solved to go, and said she had no fear. Then they wanted her, at least, to have a guard of sol-diers with her; but she re-fused. With noth-ing in her hand but the new Test-a-ment, •she ven-tured in a-mong that hard-ened, law-less crowd. They were men and wom-en more fierce than the hungry li-ons in the den in-to which Dan-iel was thrown. It did seem like a ver-y dan-ger-ous ex-per-i-ment. But

she spoke to them in tones of ten-der-ness and af-fec-tion. It was what they had not been ac-cus-tomed to hear. It act-ed like a charm up-on their hard-ened hearts. She 0-pened her book, and read to them. She closed the book, and spoke to them free-ly of the love of Je-sus. They lis-tened with pro-found at-ten-tion. Sobs and groans were the on-ly sounds heard while she was speak-ing, and tears were seen cours-ing down the cheeks of those who had long been un-used to weep. Af-ter that, she of-ten re-peat-ed her vis-its, which re-sult-ed in a great ref-or-ma-tion a-mong those pris-on-ers, man-y of whom were re-claimed from their e-vil ways, and made use-ful mem-bers of so-ci-e-ty. And what was the charm a-bout this no-ble wo-man, and the se-cret of the great power she ex-er-cised o-ver those a-ban-doned pris-oners? The charm a-bout her was the spi-rit of love. She con-vinced these poor crea-tures that she re-al-ly loved them, and wanted to do them good. This made them love her, and then she could do an-y-thing that she want-ed with them.-R. Newton.


How much do four weeks make ? A month.

And twelve months make a year—Jan-u-a-ry, Febru-a-ry, March, A-pril, May, June, Ju-ly, Au-gust, Septem-ber, Oc-to-ber, No-vem-ber, De-cem-ber.

Jan-u-a-ry brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fin-gers glow.
Feb-ru-a-ry brings the rain,
Thaws the fro-zen lake a-gain.
March brings breez-es, loud and shrill,
Stirs the dan-cing daf-fo-dil.

A-pril brings the prim-rose sweet,
Scat-ters dai-sies at our feet.
May brings flocks of pret-ty lambs,
Skip-ping by their flee-cy dams.
June brings tu-lips, lil-ies, ro-ses,
Fills the chil-dren's hands with po-sies.
Hot Ju-ly brings cooling show-ers,
A-pri-cots, and gil-li-flow-ers.
Au-gust brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the har-vest home is borne.
Warm Sep-tem-ber brings the fruit,
Sports-men then be-gin to shoot.
Fresh Oc-to-ber brings the pheas-ant,
Then to gath-er nuts is pleas-ant.
Dull No-vem-ber brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirl-ing fast.
Chill De-cem-ber brings the sleet,
Bla-zing fire, and Christ-mas treat.

Sara Coleridge.


The rice plant is a na-tive of In-di-a, but it is grown in many other coun-tries. It may be cul-ti-vat-ed with suc-cess, wher-ev-er the cli-mate is warm, and plen-ty of wa-ter can be ob-tained. Rice does not want rich soil; all that it needs is mois-ture. In some parts of the East, it is grown on-ly du-ring the rain-y sea-son. In Chi-na, they dig can-als round the rice fields, and when the seed is plant-ed, the wa-ter is made to o-ver-flow the field, and cover the rice. As soon as it is ripe, the wa-ter is drained off, and the crop gath-ered in. The rice is cut down with a sic-kle, like corn ; it is then passed be-tween mill-stones, placed so far a-part as just

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