Copy these numbers one or two at a time, on a large slate; suppose you have copied the ten 10 one 1 eleven put ten beans or counters heaped up under the word ten, and put one bean under the word one, then draw the ten beans and the one bean together, and place them all under the word eleven, keeping only a very little distance between the ten beans, and the one bean; shew that the ten beans are represented by figure 1 on the left hand, which stands for one ten, and that the one bean is represented by the figure 1 on the right hand. When you copy the ten-two on the slate, put ten beans under 2 10 12 twelve. the figure 10-two beans under the figure 2-then draw them together, and place them under the word twelve, still preserving a little distance between the ten and the two. Beggars and Singers. 281 If you do not understand all my directions, do not be disheartened, but practice those you can understand, and you will in time find some friend to help you out with the rest. I remain your friend and well wisher, D. D. BEGGARS AND SINGERS. THERE is an excellent society in London, called the Mendicity Society; its object is to relieve the distresses of those who are obliged to beg their bread. If a starving beggar goes to the office of this Society, he is immediately fed. Any person may purchase tickets of this Society; and many charitable people do so, and carry them constantly in their pockets. The tickets are about fourpence each, and when a beggar tells you he has had no thing to eat all day long, if you give him one of these tickets, he can carry it to the Society's House, and is entitled by it to a hearty meal. I once gave a ticket to a poor woman, who seemed highly delighted with it; but it is generally said that London beggars despise them. What can be the reason of this? It seems strange that people who are starving should refuse to have a good meal for nothing. The truth of the matter, however, is this, that the Society does not content itself with giving a meal to a poor beggar, but it examines into his case. The beggar says "he can get no work," the Society provides him with work; he says, "he is a long way from his parish," it is the business of the Society to send him home. Now, if his tale be true, this is just what he would wish for; if not true, his deceit is found out. Now, as so few beggars are willing to receive these tickets, we must conclude that the tales of the greater part of them are have greaty diminished the number of beggars in the streets of London. They have certainly relieved the distresses of many real sufferers, and so far diminished the number of petitioners; and, moreover, since. it is known that those who are really starving, may be relieved by this Society, charitable persons are less willing to believe the tales they hear; and they think it wrong, as it truly is, to encourage idleness and falsehood; and thus, perhaps, the trade of begging is less encou raged, and the numbers of beggars consequently diminished. It is, however, certain, that some of the beggars in the streets are really in great distress: the tale may be false; but still the distress is often real. To shut up our compassion against every tale of misery which we hear, would be to encourage a dreadful spirit of selfishness and hardness of heart; and yet, on the other hand, we cannot help feeling that our gifts might be much better bestowed than in reliev ing these vagrant petitioners. The best sort of charity seems to be that which encourages industry, and introduces good instruc tion and good habits, and so prevents misery,-which is, in fact, easier than to cure it. When we think of the afflictions and crosses to which we are all liable, we cannot be surprised that many should fall into poverty and distress; and this thought should teach us compassion; but we cannot help seeing that, in very many cases, people fall into distresses, which proper prudence might have prevented. In looking at the different forms in which poverty appears, we cannot help sometimes reflecting within ourselves, upon the causes which have led to it. I saw a man in the streets of Chelsea, a few days ago, carrying a child in his arms; his wife was with him, and three more children. The man had some what the appearance of a sort of distressed gentle Beggars and Singers. 283 man; he was singing beautifully, though feebly; he had a voice of great sweetness, and it was managed like one who had studied music in his youth. I could not help thinking that this man had been, when young, what is called a remarkably pleasant fellow, one who was known to sing a good song, and who was, on that account, invited into all companies. He probably often spent his evenings at public-houses, where his singing always made him agreeable. All the praise he got, and the delight that he gave, so turned his foolish head, that he could not give himself to the common labour that was needful for his support, so that he was soon in distress; and, as he had acquired no habits of industry, he did not know how to get out of his troubles. He joined himself to a company of players; but this was a poor maintenance for one who had never learned any thing like management; and then he married a young woman as silly as himself. His affairs kept getting worse and worse, till at last he was obliged to beg his bread, and he is now trying to pick up a few halfpence in the street by the remains of his voice.. Perhaps the sight of his wife and his poor children may excite compassion; there is a sort of broken down gentility in the look of them all. Some people will pity them, but I know that many will say to this singing man, as the industrious ant in the fable said to the grasshopper, that was starving in the winter, because he had laid up no store whilst it was summer; "Don't come to me, I knew that I should want food in this sharp weather, and I took care to provide a stock whilst I was able to go out and work; but, as for you, there was nothing thought of but practising your music and shewing off your fine voice; so then, as you sung in the summer, you may e'en dance in the winter." ་ If any of my young readers have fine voices, let what company this gift leads them to: many a man becomes a beggar in his age, because he is à singer in his youth. I don't despise music either; I only say "take care!" My readers will understand me. ས. A TRAVELLER'S REMARKS ON ISAIAH xxxiii. 2. A MARINER who has experienced all the fears and dangers of a tempest can truly feel the happiness of being received in safety on shore. In the burning sands of Africa, when the traveller feels all the misery of thirst, and is ready to perish by it, the distant sight of trees which seem to show that a refreshing stream of water is nigh, will give a joy that in these countries we can have but little notion of. And in such a climate, when not a single tree is found to afford the smallest shade from the burning heat of the sun, to find repose under the shadow of a rock is a delight which those who have not experienced it cannot imagine. From these comparisons, the Christian Pilgrim sees the blessing of the Gospel promises, as foretold by the Prophet-" And a man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a cover from the tempest; as rivers of water in dry places; as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." VERSES ON THE SAME SUBJECT. I. When surges roll, and thunders peal, And pride is quelled, and hopes are gone, |