days. Keep honest and true, me Joe, and you'll be prospered in some way.'

A MOUSE IN THE PANTRY.

'WHEN I used to be out of temper, or naughty in any way, if grandfather was here he would call to me, "Mary, Mary, take care! there's a mouse in the pantry!"

see if there One day I

"I often used to cease crying at this, and stand wondering to myself what he meant. I often ran to the pantry, too, to really was a mouse in the trap, but I never found one. said, "Grandfather, I don't know what you mean. pantry, and there are no mice in mother's, because I have looked ever so often." He smiled and said

I haven't a

""Come, little woman, sit down here in the porch by me, and I'll tell you what I mean. Your heart, Mary, is the pantry. The little sins are the mice that get in and nibble away all the good, and that make you sometimes cross and peevish and fretful, unwilling to do as your mother wishes; and, if you do not strive against them, the mice will keep nibbling till the good is all eaten away. Now, I want to show you, my little girl, how to prevent this. To keep the mice out you must set a trap for them—the trap of watchfulness, and have for bait good resolutions and firmness.'

'But, mother,' said Nancy, now quite interested in the story, 'wouldn't they nibble the resolutions away after a while?'

'No, Nancy, not if the watch was kept strictly and the bait a good one. I did not exactly understand it when grandfather first told me, for I was such a very little girl, but I knew it was told for me in some way, and after a while I began to find out what he meant. He told me, too, that I might store my pantry with good things if I watched it well. Do you know what that means, Nancy?'

"To be full of good always,' said Nancy, whose tears were dried

now.

'Yes, to store it with good principles, good thoughts, and kind feelings.'

DO YOUR DUTY AND LET THE WORLD TALK.

As I was going to preach at Paris during Lent, St. Francis taught me to be indifferent to what the world says, by the following recital :

'The principal of a college placed the great clock under the care of an idle man, to whom he thought the occupation would be an amusement; but having tried, he declared that he had never found any act of obedience so tiresome or difficult.

""Why," said the principal, "you have only to wind it up regularly."

❝“Oh, no, not that, but I am tormented on every side.”

""How so?" demanded the principal.

""Why," said the poor man, when the clock loses a little, those who are labouring in the college complain; and when to satisfy them I advance it a little, those who are in the town come and abuse me because the clock gains. If, to please them, I retard it again, complaints are renewed on the other side; I am bewildered with their murmurs, for my head is like the bell against which the clock strikes -I am attacked on all sides."

6 The principal consoled him with this advice :

""Keep to true time, give gentle and obliging words, and all parties will be satisfied."

'Now,' continued St. Francis, 'you will be the butt for criticism, and if you stop to listen to all that is said about you, you will find no end of the objections and cavils of men. The question is, How are you to steer your way ?-by gentle and obliging words. But, after all, follow your own path, be guided by your own taste and judgment, and do not seek to conform to the caprice of all your auditors. Look only to God; and yield yourself to His guidance. We do not desire to please men; why then should their opinion concern us? God, who reads the secrets of our hearts, is our Judge; from Him nothing is hid.'

THE MISSING SHEEP.

ONE evening a shepherd, on counting his flock of sheep, found that instead of 580 sheep he could only count 579. The shepherd instantly called his two faithful dogs, 'Rab' and 'Roy,' and told them, 'There's a sheep missing-away with you, my fine dogs, and search it out.' Before long the bark of the two dogs was heard behind some rough boulders. The shepherd at once knew that there was something the matter, and on hastening to the spot he found a

fine sheep had unfortunately broken its leg, and was unable to move without help.

AN OLD SAW.

A DEAR little maid came skipping out
In the glad new day with a merry shout;
With dancing feet and with flying hair
She sang with joy in the morning air.

'Don't sing before breakfast, ye'll cry before night!
What a croak, to darken the child's delight!
And the stupid old nurse, again and again,
Repeated the ancient, dull refrain.

The child paused, trying to understand;

But her eyes saw the great world rainbow-spanned:
Her light little feet hardly touched the earth,
And her soul brimmed over with innocent mirth.

"Never mind-don't listen-O sweet little maid!
Make sure of your morning song,' I said;
And if pain must meet you, why, all the more
Be glad of the rapture that came before.

'O, tears and sorrow are plenty enough,

Storms may be bitter and paths be rough,

But our tears should fall like the dear earth's showers
That help to ripen the fruits and flowers.

So gladden the day with your blissful song,
Sing on while you may, dear, sweet and strong!

Make sure of your moment of pure delight,
No matter what trials may come before night.'

THE CHILD AND THE BIRD.

O, WHERE are you going, my dear little bird?
And why do you hurry away?

Not a leaf on the pretty red maple has stirred,
In the sweet golden sunshine to-day.'

'I know, little maiden, the sunshine is bright,
And the leaves are asleep on the tree,

But three times the dream of a cold winter's night
Has come to my children and me.

'So good-bye to you, darling, for off we must go,
To the land where the oranges bloom,

For we birdies would freeze in the storms and the snow,
And forget how to sing in the gloom.'

'Will you ever come back to your own little nest ?'
'Ah, yes, when the blossoms are here,

We'll return to the orchard we all love the best,
And then we will sing to you, dear.'

AT THY SIDE.

A LITTLE traveller am I
Upon a road that looks
As pleasant as the flowery paths
Beside the summer brooks.

I may have very far to go;
No one can tell, they say:
For some the way is very long,
For some ends in a day.

I've gone a very little way,

And yet I can't go back
To pick up any thing I've lost
Or wasted on the track.

And, if I careless pass each stone,

I mayn't my steps retrace;
And so I need a Friend all through

To keep me by His grace.

For there are snares I do not see;

I am a foolish child:

Then, Jesus, I will ask Thee now

To keep me undefiled.

My feet from falling keep, O Lord!

My heart from wandering wide,
Until, the last stone passed, I dwell
For ever at Thy side.

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

THE

VOL. IX.

NEW SERIES.

MARCH, 1883.

PRICE ONE

HALF-PENNY.

LONDON RALPH FENWICK, 6, SUTTON STREET, COMMERCIAL ROAD, E.