RETURNING TO TOWN.

THE two sisters, Eliza and Phillis, after spending two whole months with Uncle George, were now returning to town. Though glad at the thought of getting back to their own home, it was not without a feeling of sadness they left the Bluff Farm, and bade farewell to Uncle George. They had had a merry time of it. Nothing their uncle could think of likely to promote their happiness was wanting; and their Cousin Charles, a fine young man about their own age, paid them every attention during their stay. Their way of life was indeed quiet, and yet, scarce a day passed without their having a drive to some place of note in the neighbourhood, or mixing with some interesting society. Their health had also wonderfully improved. Before they had been many days at Bluff Farm the roses began to flush their cheeks, their appetite became ravenous, and their spirits could scarcely be restrained. Now, however, they must tear themselves away from the sweet enjoyments of country life, and again bury themselves amidst the moil and tumult of the town. Well, it's their duty to go, and they must submit. For some time to come their presence will be missed at Bluff Farm, and Uncle George and Cousin Charles will have many a talk about the fair young girls.

JOHN AND HIS MITE-BOX.

JOHN was a wide-awake boy, ten or twelve years of age. He lived with two fond aunts, who cared for him as tenderly, and who seemed to love him, as if indeed he was their very own. These two aunts lived in a very pleasant house in the country, in the midst of the most charming scenery. There were hills and dales, grand old forest trees, and a stream clear as crystal, which made the softest music day and night. There was a garden near the house filled with a great variety of flowers. And great luscious strawberries grew there in the season, and raspberries, and more good things than I can even mention. There was a grove of fir trees adjoining the garden, and before the house there was a stretch of velvety lawn.

This was not John's own home. His mother lived in a pleasant town some distance away, but she had lent her little son to these two aunts, her own sisters; and do you wonder that John liked to stay when every thing was so beautiful? This, too, had been his mamma's

own home in her girlhood; and here there were merry gatherings still, for old and young found this house a delightful place. I suppose every one was so happy here because the dear ladies who lived in the pleasant old family mansion had so much love in their hearts that it made sunshine all around them.

John's two aunts were not only interested in Sabbath-schools and churches, and every good work at home, and in the poor and sad around them, but they thought of, prayed for and worked for the heathen in other lands. What a warm welcome these two good women gave to every missionary! And now that John had come into their home they welcomed these toilers for Christ from distant lands for the sake of their boy, as well as for their own sakes.

There came to this home not long ago two missionaries from India. John was much interested in their tales of life in that far-off land, and he wondered, with a sad surprise, how the heathen could worship such strange gods, fashioned by their own hands.

Some time after these missionaries had returned to their own field of labour, John's aunts, in order to keep alive the interest that had been awakened in the heathen in India, proposed that a mite-box should be put in some convenient place in the house, into which all might, from time to time, deposit their gifts. John liked the suggestion, and took much pleasure in dropping into this safe little sums he had earned. As the store of treasure increased John was more delighted, I am sure, than if the whole had been designed for his own use. Ι know this matter was prayed over in the little household, and God's blessing asked upon the gifts so lovingly dropped into this missionbank.

It had been arranged that the box should be opened after six months. Two days before the expiration of this time one of the aunts said:

'John, the six months are almost over, and I want you to look around and find some work to do, so that you can put in a nice sum at the last.'

This John was quite willing to do, but there seemed just then no way to earn money, and the boy was much disappointed. I am not at all sure that he did not dream at night about the matter, which was so much in his thoughts by day.

He was wakened very early one morning by the voice of his Aunt

Maggie calling for help. He rubbed his eyes, leaped out of bed, and dressed himself in great haste, wondering what was wanted. His aunt had risen before the dawn to attend to some household duty, and before the outer doors had been opened she was startled to see flutter into the room some strange object. It had probably come in through one of the ventilators. But whatever it was, it was certainly an unwelcome intruder, and John had been called to aid in dislodging the creature. He came armed with a stick, and was soon much interested in the chase.

His aunt had opened a window and was trying to persuade the curious bird to escape by this means, when John suddenly called out: 'O, Aunt Maggie, don't! It's a screech-owl, and I can get fifty cents for it if I kill it.'

The bird was captured and killed, and taking a hasty breakfast John marched off with his prize, and received from the proper authorities the premium allowed-fifty-five cents, instead of fifty. How rich he felt!

In half an hour he was at the house again, and 'with the air of a conqueror' marched to the mite box and deposited therein fifty cents, saying as he did so :

'I bought a box of blacking for five cents, and the fifty cent piece goes in here.'

It was all his own thought, and the child was very happy. It seemed to him that God, who knew how much he wanted to add another gift to the little treasury before it was opened, had sent this bird to provide the means.

When the box was opened and found to contain twenty dollars John was greatly delighted. One of the aunts, in writing of this, says:

'The box is again in its place, and John has put in his first penny." If the children who read this will try John's plan and use some portion of their gifts or their earnings for others they will, I know, be far happier than if spending all they have selfishly. Try it, little friends.

WORTH REMEMBERING.

A NEWFOUNDLAND dog was missed one day for about two hours and a half, and, on her return, brought a water-can in her mouth. Upon

opening this, a live rabbit was discovered, which she had evidently hunted till it got into the can for safety. As she could not get the rabbit out, she brought rabbit and can together to her master. That was taking advantage of poor little bunny. It got into the can and could not get out, and the dog could not get it out, but knew enough to bring the can and its contents to some one who could get it out. We cannot blame one beast for taking advantage of another, for that is the nature of all beasts. Unfortunately some human beings have somewhat of this beastly nature. One of this sort once met with a severe rebuke from the celebrated Italian scholar, Tasso. Tasso was once told that he had a fair opportunity of taking advantage of one who was his bitter enemy. He replied, 'I wish not to plunder him; but there are things I wish to take from him-not his honour, or wealth, or life; but his malice and ill-will.' You could hardly call it robbery to take such things from a man, for the more of malice and ill-will you can take from him the richer you will make him.

The well-wishing of others reminds us of a beautiful story that is told of a celebrated French bishop who lived in the early part of the last century. When his library was destroyed by fire, he said, 'God be praised that it is not the dwelling of some poor man.'

THREE LITTLE TROUT.

ONCE, as the story goes, three little trout lived in a stream of clear water which ran between two high green banks. It was sheltered from the wind and the storms, and the sun shone there; so it was a delightful spot. Besides, these fishes had plenty to eat and nothing to trouble them; so you would have thought them as happy as happy could be. But, alas, it was not so. They were so foolish as to be discontented and unhappy, and God heard them find fault; so He told the little fishes that each of them might wish for any thing it pleased, and it should have it.

Then the first little trout said: 'I am tired of moping here in the water. I should like to have wings and fly in the air, as birds do.' The next said: 'I am a poor little ignorant fish, and do not know how to protect myself from danger. I should like to know about hooks and nets, so that I might always keep out of harm's way.'

The other trout said: 'I, too, am a poor little ignorant fish, and

for this reason do not know what is best for me. My wish is that God would take care of me, and give just what He thinks best. I do not want any thing that He does not choose to give me.'

So God gave wings to the first, and he was quite happy, and, soaring away into the air, was proud, and despised his playmates left in the very river. He liked so well to fly, that he flew away off till he came to a great desert where there was sand as far as he could see. By this time he was tired of flying, and was faint and thirsty, but could see no water. He tried to fly farther, but could not; his wings failed, and he fell down panting on the hot sand, and died miserably.

God gave the other little fish knowledge, as he wanted to know all kinds of danger; but instead of being happier, he was all the time afraid-afraid to go into deep water, lest the great fishes there should swallow him up; afraid to go into the shallow water, lest it should dry up and leave him. If he saw a fly or any thing he should like to eat, he did not dare touch it, lest there should be a hook hidden under it; so he pined away and died.

But God loved the other little trout, and took care of him, and kept him from all danger, so that he was the happiest little fish that ever lived.

Now, which of the little fishes was the wisest ?

ANNIE AND THE MINISTER.

THE minister had come to call on Annie's mother, and was sitting in their little parlour when she came in from school.

'My little girl,' he said, 'I am glad to see you;' and he took her hands and drew her kindly to him.

Annie was a bashful child, and held down her head. She hardly dared to look at so great a man as the minister.

'he seems very kind.'

'Do you love Jesus, Annie?' said he.

'Yes, sir.'

'What makes you think you do?' he asked.

But,' she thought,

'Why, I know it by my feelings inside of me,' she said, brightening

a little when she found the minister so kind and fatherly.

'But, my dear, do you think Jesus knows it?'

'Why, yes, sir; can't He see my heart?'