cule form a large part of the vast chalk cliffs of England, and are readily brushed out of common chalk, as I have shown you. Mighty mountains of solid rock are almost entirely composed of SHELL MAGNIFIED. shells not a thousandth part of an inch in breadth; and the desert sand, that drifts far over the waters, has been found to be mingled profusely with the distinct and perfect remains of minute animals.” "We believe you, Uncle George; but folks not used to little things may think it is a great story." 66 Yes, but when they know the least of things, they will trust the largest stories about such creatures." A FEW COURTESY OF A DOG. BY DR. J. H. HANAFORD. years ago, in a rural village of New England, there was a surly cur, the dread of all the smaller dogs in that vicinity. The bristles on his back, for such they resembled, were often raised as the smaller ones came into his august presence, and he looked exceedingly unpleasant whenever any thing ruffled his doggish disposition. Who has not often seen boys that very nearly resemble this tyrannical "Tiger?" Who has not seen boys who invariably promote discord in every group they enter? In the very countenances of such, one might almost trace the peculiar features of "Tiger," and hear sounds very nearly resembling his growl. Like a surly cur, they quarrel with their associates, or are sometimes satisfied with provoking a quarrel among others. 96 COURTESY OF A DOG. But we must not lose sight of "Tiger." He was an ill-natured fellow, always ready to try his teeth upon any unfortunate dog of less size or courage than himself. He was so accustomed to growl and show his long, white, and sharp teeth, and worry all within his reach, that well-disposed dogs, and those that dreaded his inflictions, seemed to avoid the company of such an unpleasant playfellow, knowing by sad experience that it was unsafe to be caught by his dogship. 66 One day, a small, good-natured dog had occasion to pass near Tiger," and fearing that he might receive the accustomed abuse, he hit upon the following expedient: he raised one leg, and went limping along on the remaining three, until he had passed out of sight of this dog-tyrant, when he put it down again, and ran off nimbly, apparently forgetting his feigned lameness. He seemed to feel certain that even his powerful enemy would not inflict his accustomed cruelties upon an unfortunate fellow-dog, and as a means of avoiding his vengeance deceived him by feigning lameness. Though we can not approve the deception (for, in dog language, he said, "I have been hurt, and am lame”), we must feel amused at his shrewdness, and still more admire "Tiger's" sympathy for a cripple, for he seemed to understand that if some tyrant, like himself, had bitten the poor little fellow, that was enough, and it would be magnanimous in him to wait until he should recover before he treated him with his usual severity. Now, young reader, what moral can we draw from this simple story? Is it not this, that we should be kind to the unfortunate ? Dogs are not supposed to possess reasoning powers, or if they do possess them at all, only in a slight degree; and if they are restrained from cruelties by apparent misfortune, we, who possess a soul and feelings of generosity, kindness, and sympathy, should "deal gently" with those on whom the hand of affliction has been heavily laid. If, therefore, there is an orphan boy or girl among your associates, remember to be kind to such, and soothe the sorrows of those who have been deprived of their dearest friends on earth. If one is deformed, do not laugh at or ridicule such an unfortunate fellow-being. If one has an intemperate father, or is poor, not able to appear externally as well as his associates, never increase his sorrows by thoughtless words, but comfort and encourge him, for he is responsible only for his own conduct. If one is lame, remember how "Tiger's" feelings were softened, and be equally kind and sympathizing. THE BROWN MARTIN. 97 Never delight in inflicting cruelty upon any one, not even the most insignificant reptile beneath your feet, but step aside rather than destroy any creature unnecessarily that your heavenly Father has created to enjoy life. But on the contrary, cultivate a generous and loving heart, be pitiful and kind to all, "weep with those that weep," and do good to all around you. THE BROWN MARTIN. BY ADA. WHEN winter had fled, with its cold stormy hours, And spring first appeared, with her green leaves and flowers, And we pitied the stranger, he seemed so lone. Then we built him a house, 'twas convenient and good, The home of our martin aloof in the air. Then so quickly he fled that we feared he had gone, But when morn's dewy foot on the earth had been pressed, And so tuneful's their song, and their twitterings so sweet, Words which are spoken in as gentle a tone THERE is one kind of vice which even bad persons shun, that is ad-vice. 98 THE PENITENT SCHOLAR. THE PENITENT SCHOLAR. CHOOL is out. The last lesson has been recited and the even SCHOO ing hymn sung, and the shouts of merry voices are heard on the green. Their spirits overflow like long pent-up waters. But one of their number remains behind. All is quiet now in the schoolroom. There sits the teacher at her desk, with a sad and troubled look. At one of the desks before her sits a boy, whose flushed countenance and flashing eye tell of a struggle within. His arms are proudly folded, as in defiance, and his lips are compressed. He will never say, "I'm sorry, will you forgive me ?" No! not he. His breath comes thick and fast, and the angry flush upon his cheek grows a deep crimson. The door stands invitingly open. A few quick steps, and he can bé beyond the reach of his teacher. Involuntarily his hand snatches up his cap, as she says, "George, come to me." A moment more and he has darted out, and is away down the lane. The teacher's face grows more sad; her head sinks upon the desk, and the tears will come, as she thinks of the return he is making for all her love and care for him. The clock strikes five, and slowly putting on her bonnet and shawl, she prepares to go, when, looking out at the door, she sees the boy coming toward the school-house, now taking rapid steps forward, as though fearful his resolutions would fail him; then pausing, as if ashamed to be seen coming back. What has thus changed his purpose? Breathless with haste, he has thrown himself down upon the green grass by the side of the creek, cooling his burning cheeks in the pure, sweet water; and as gradually the flush faded away, so in his heart died away the anger he felt toward his teacher. The south wind, as it stole by, lifting the hair from his brow, seemed to whisper in his ear, "This way, little boy, this way," and voices within him murmured, "Go back, go back." He started to his feet. Should he heed those kind words-should he go back? Could he go? Ah! here was the struggle. Could he be man enough to conquer his pride and anger, and in true humility retrace his steps, and say "forgive?" Could he go back? As he repeated the words he said to himself, "I will go back ;" and the victory Soon, with downcast eye and throbbing heart, he stood was won. A BIRD CHARMED BY A SQUIRREL. 99 before his teacher, acknowledging in broken accents his fault, and asking forgiveness. The sunbeams streamed in through the open window, filling the room with golden light, but the sunlight in those hearts was brighter yet. Ah, children, if you would always have the sunlight in your hearts, never let the clouds of anger rise to dim your sky. He was a hero. He conquered himself; and Solomon says, " He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." At first he cowardly ran away; but his courage came again; he rallied his forces, and took the city. Brave is the boy that has courage to do right, when his proud heart says I will not.-New York Observer. A BIRD CHARMED BY A SQUIRREL. HE following singular occurrence is related by a correspondent of the New York Spirit of the Times, writing from Broad Mountain, Pa.: "While running a survey line some eight miles from here, my attention was attracted by the vociferous barking of a red squirrel, and on looking for him, I saw the individual himself on a hemlock tree, about twenty feet from the ground, jumping about, barking, and flirting his tail. On the same limb, about six feet from him, sat a swamp or spotted thrush, looking decidedly frightened and bewildered, for whom, it appears, all these particular attentions were designed. "Well, matters stood thus for some minutes, the squirrel getting nearer, and the bird appearing more and more confused, when Bunny, having barked himself hoarse, thought it was time to make a grab, which he did accordingly. The struggle of the bird, however, threw them both off the limb to the ground, where the squirrel killed the thrush in a short time. He then hauled the body to a log, and, after due examination, was beginning deliberately to pull out the feathers in mouthfuls, when one of the chain-men knocked the carnivorous little animal over with a stone. He was not killed, however, but only stunned, and has since recovered, and we have him caged and hung up in the office as a curiosity. "He is very savage, and it was but yesterday that he came off first best in a fight with a young rat terrier, of undoubted pluck, belonging to one of the party. I now wish that we had let him alone, to have seen whether he would have eaten the bird, though I have no doubt that such was his intention." 58585A |