Children who have a quick temper must learn to govern it. A certain king when he found himself getting angry used to fill his mouth with water and keep it there until the angry fit was past, so that he could not speak.

Pray to God to help you to control your temper, so that it may not bring you and others into trouble.

THE TWO MEN INSIDE.

“For,” said

AN old Indian once asked a white man to give him some tobacco for his pipe. The man gave him a loose handful from his pocket. The next day he came back and asked for the white man. he, "I found a quarter of a dollar among the tobacco." 66 Why don't you keep it?" asked a bystander. "I've got a good man and a bad man here,” said the Indian, pointing to his breast; "and the good man say, 'It is not mine, give it back to the owner.' The bad man say, 'Never mind, you got it, and it is your own now.' The good man say, 'No, no! you must not keep it.' So I don't know what to do, and I think to go to sleep, but the good and bad men keep talking all night, and trouble me; and now I bring the money back I feel good."

Like the old Indian, we have all a good and a bad man within. The bad man is Temptation, the good man is Conscience, and they keep talking for and against many things that we do every day. Who wins? That is the question; and the answer decides a child's character for this life and the life to come. Who wins? Stand up for duty; down with sin. Wrestle with Temptation manfully. Never, never give up the war till you win.

SISSIE'S TRUST.

"ARE you not afraid, Sissie, to go to bed in the dark?" a little girl was once asked.

"I no 'fraid," replied the child, "God takes care of Sissie: in dark night papa sleep, mamma sleep, all sleep; God never sleep."

"But God has so many people to take care of, maybe. He will forget Sissie.' The child shook her head.

"God made Sissie; God never forget Sissie; Sissie forget God sometimes, but God not forget Sissie."

"But Sissie can't see God."

"See God! God here," said the little one, putting her hand on her heart. "God up in the sky, and God here. Sissie loves God, and doesn't want to be naughty.”

O, yes! God delights to dwell in the hearts of children. Let us never doubt His love and care for the little ones.

A CHILD'S MISSION.

'Twas in the early flush of summer,
When beside a shimmering sea,
With its wealth of light and beauty,
And its low sweet harmony,-

Sat a stranger sad and weary,

Pale his face and wan his air,
Yet he gazed with eager longing
At the beauty pictured there.

But the tears stole down like rain drops,
On each wasted sunken cheek,

And a weary look of anguish

Gathered as I heard him speak :—

“I am young, and life is pleasant,
With its constant round of toil,
For my heart is strong to battle
With the right, the wrong to foil.

"I had looked for years of service,
Years of useful labouring,
Bringing sheaves of ripened glory
To the garner of our King.

"Gone those dreams of life and pleasure
With the good I would have done;

Alas, alas, in early morning,

All my brightest hopes are gone,

"Gifts and talents, rich and many,

Wealth, and fame, and love were mine;
Lord, I meant them all an offering,

Consecrated at Thy shrine.

"Can it be in fiercest anger,
For some deep indwelling sin,
Close, entwined, and firmly rooted,
Nestling deep this heart within.

"Is it thus a human weakness

Brings such heavy curse and woe?
Mighty Ruler, God of Heaven,
Are Thy dealings just below?"

Silently he bowed in sorrow;

Rebel thoughts no tongue may say,
Wrestled in that heaving bosom,
Wrestled that they might have way.

But a childish form came kneeling
By the man so sad and lone,
And a tiny hand was softly
Laid upon the wasted one.

"Please, Sir. are you very sorry,

Every one who loves you dies?
Then I'll sing the song to you, Sir,
That I sing when mother cries."

Oh, it was a simple ditty,

Of the "far off happy land,
Right away from pain and pining,
Where the saints in glory stand.”

It was finished, and she murmured,

66

Good-bye, Sir, you're now all right,
I'll tell Jesus all about you,

When I say my prayers to-night."

Tripped away the little singer,
Floated off the little song,

O'er the distant waste of waters,
Where the shadows gather long.

Floated off-nay, in one sad heart,
Crusted o'er by grief and pain,

Like a heaven-implanted jewel,

Lives that childish song again.-E. A. MILLWARD.

THOMAS DANKS, PRINTER, CRANE COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON.

LONDON RALPH FENWICK, 6, SUTTON STREET, COMMERCIAL ROAD, E. PRICE ONE HALF-PENNY.

THE MOTHER AND HER BOYS.

SUCH a good mother, so tender, kind, and loving, so full of sympathy with her boys in their little joys and sorrows, so faithful in teaching them their duty and reproving their faults, and yet so ready to forgive and forget when they showed signs of repentance,—such a good mother I never knew except my own. There may have been as good, but there never was a better mother than mine,—at least, I cannot conceive how there could be. I think of her as a good angel who watched over my boyhood with tenderest concern, forgetting herself in her anxiety for my welfare, granting me many a little indulgence which I didn't deserve, bearing with my faults, encouraging me in everything good, and showing such a bright pattern of purity and love. The memory of my mother is one of my most precious treasures. It has often exerted a saving influence upon me. It has proved a barrier against the surges of temptation, and been a fruitful source of pure and holy thought.

"POOR LITTLE NELL."

A STORY FOR CHILDREN.

WHEN little Nell was a baby, nobody ever thought of calling her poor. Her father was a shoemaker, and earned lots of money by his trade;—her mother, a very superior woman, who loved little Nell with all her heart. Then--you will ask-why was she called "poor little Nell?" I will tell you.

Did you ever hear of a cruel monster, whose name is "Strong Drink?" or of another called "Death?" who is very cruel too, except to those who know a secret about him. To them he is not cruel or ugly, but only a messenger from God; and is a most welcome friend to them, for he guides them to a better world than this. Would you like to learn the secret that robs "death" of its ugliness? Well, then, if you look in the New Testament for the first epistle to the Corinthians, in the fifteenth chapter, you will find it.

But to return to our story. When Nelly was four years of age, "death" came for her mother, and took her away to her home in heaven. Poor little Nell!

Yes! the loss of her dear mother soon made her poor, did it not? but, alas! she soon became poorer still, for the cruel monster "strong