Her little dog manifested, by every art he could use, his sorrow and his sympathy. He knelt before her; he looked earnestly in her face; he licked her hands and cheeks; he whined; he barked, and did all but say, "Courage, courage, my little mistress; we shall get home, and it will all be well yet."

Margaret patted the little dog, but she could not speak. She looked in his face, and pointed towards home. He seemed to understand her, and set off immediately at a round gallop.

He had not proceeded far, before he met some people coming in search of the little girl. He guided them to the place where she was sitting, and Margaret was carried back to her mother. The new hat and basket were never found; and I need hardly tell you that she was now cured of her disobedience: and I hope little readers will remember that it is much better to obey their parents, and follow their counsel, than have their own way.

my

CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

FEAR was within the tossing bark
When stormy winds grew loud;
And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bow'd.

And men stood breathless in their dread,
And baffled in their skill—

But One was there, who rose and said
To the wild sea, "Be still!"

And the wind ceased-it ceased
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;

-that word

The troubled billows knew their Lord,
And sunk beneath his eye.

And slumber settled on the deep,
And silence on the blast,
As when the righteous fall asleep,
When death's fierce throes are past.

Thou that didst rule the angry hour,
And tame the tempest's mood-
Oh! send thy Spirit forth in power,
O'er our dark souls to brood!

Thou that didst bow the billow's pride,
Thy mandates to fulfil—

Speak, speak to passion's raging tide,
Speak and say " Peace, be still!"

SELFISHNESS UNSOCIAL.

THERE is perhaps no vice which is sooner discovered by the world, or when discovered held in greater detestation, than selfishness. Placed as we are in a

world where, but by the assistance of others, we can expect neither enjoyment nor happiness, how monstrous appears such a vice! The following beautiful tale well illustrates what we have stated.

A boy accompanied his father into the vineyard. He there discovered a bee in a spider's web. The spider had already opened his threatening teeth to kill the bee. But the boy liberated the bee, and destroyed the web of the spider.

The father of the boy, who saw it, inquired, "How can you esteem the instinct and dexterity of this animal so little as to destroy its web, on which so much skill and labour have been bestowed? Did you not observe with what beauty and regularity the tender threads were arranged? how can you, then, at the same time, be so compassionate and yet so severe ?”

The boy replied, "Is not the ingenuity of the spider wicked, and does it not tend to kill and destroy? But the bee gathers honey and wax in its hive. Therefore I liberated the bee and destroyed the web of the spider."

The father commended the judgment of ingenuous simplicity, which condemns the bright cunning that springs from selfishness and aims at mischief and ruin.

"But," continued the father, "perhaps you have still done injustice to the spider. See, it defends our ripe grapes from the flies and wasps, with the web which it spins over them."

SELFISHNESS UNSOCIAL.

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"Does it do this," inquired the boy, "to protect the fruit, or rather to satisfy its own thirst for blood?” "True," answered the father," they concern themselves but little about the grapes."

"O," said the boy, "the good which they practise without designing it, is of no value. A good motive is all that makes a good action estimable and lovely."

"Very true," said the father, " our thanks are due to God, who knows how to employ what is vicious and unfriendly in the preservation of what is good and useful."

Then the boy inquired, "Why does the spider sit alone in its web, whilst the bees live together in social union, and work for general good? Thus the spider ought to make a large common net."

"Dear child," replied the father, "many can, with safety, unite only in noble design. The alliance of wickedness and selfishness carries the seed of ruin in itself."

THE FARMER AND SOLDIER.

(A MORAL TALE.)

Boys are apt to form very ridiculous notions regarding the splendour and delights of a soldier's life, which, instead of being one of happiness, as they imagine, is perhaps the most miserable in the world. While the youth of genius and industry is rising in the pursuit of his peaceful and honourable occupations, how often is his thoughtless early companion, who has embraced the career of a soldier's life, spending his best years in the listlessness of an unidea'd range of duty, becoming old in doing nothing, and only preparing for himself, most likely, a painful conclusion to a valueless existence! Boys who are not aware of the sufferings which often accompany the soldier's career, may possibly profit by the perusal of the following little story, written by Mrs. Sigourney, an American authoress :

It was a cold evening in winter. A lamp cast its cheerful ray from the window of a small farm-house, in one of the villages of New England. A fire was burning brightly on the hearth, and two brothers sat near it. Several school-books lay by them on the table, from which they had been studying their lessons for the next day. Their parents had retired to rest, and the boys were conversing earnestly. The youngest, who was about thirteen, said, "John, I mean to be a soldier." 'Why so, James?" "I have been reading the life of Alexander of Macedon, and also a good deal about Napoleon Bonaparte. I think they were

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