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no use trying to argue me out of my supper;"—and without another word he fell upon the poor helpless lamb and tore her to pieces.

A tyrant never wants a plea. And they have little chance of resisting the injustice of the powerful whose only weapons are innocence and reason,

THE GUARDED HOUSE

She was

THE New Year, in 1814; was a sad one to the inhabitants of a little town in Germany. It was a time of war, and they expected that whenever a short peace or truce had come to an end, parties of cruel soldiers would take possession of their houses and property. They were especially afraid for the night of January 5th, when the truce was to end.

Beyond the town, close to the high road, on the very side where the soldiers would enter, was a solitary house, larger and better than the poor cottages near it A good old woman lived here. constantly praying, in the words of an old German hymn, that God would raise up a wall around them,

as to preserve them from the enemy. Her daughter, a widow, and one grandson, lived with her.

Grandmother," said the young man, on the morning of the 5th, " what do you mean by praying that the Lord would build a wall round our house ? Can you really be so foolish as to expect that he will do such an impossibility ?”

My son,” she replied, “I did not intend exactly what I said, but cnly desired that the Lord would

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defend us and our town, by any means. know nothing is impossible with him ;-and if he wills, could he not do even this thing ?”

The night came,-a terrible night of winter storm, wind and snow. Soon those in the solitary house knew, by the trampling of horses and sounds of firing and shouting, that parties of wild Cossacks were pouring into the unhappy town. They listened and trembled, praying for their poor neighbours, and expecting every moment that their own turn would come; but, to their great astonishment, no one even knocked at their door. When daylight appeared, they soon discovered the secret of their escape. The wind bad drifted an immense mass of snow between them and the road, so that those passing by could not come near the dwelling !

“My son,” said the good old grandmother, “ do not you see now how easy it was for the Lord to raise a wall around us?”

Surely none of those in “The Guarded House” would ever forget that night, and must have felt more trust in God ever afterwards.

J. L. B.

THE BUSTLING WAY AND THE QUIET WAY.

THERE are some children who do very little good, even when they wish to be of use to others, because they make so much bustle about everything they undertake.

Jane Riddell is one of these bustling characters. She is always ready and willing to help her mother, wbom she loves very much, and to whom she is

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always obedient; but she makes so much noise and talk about any little thing she has to do, that one would rather do it ten times over than be present while she is doing it.

Mother,” said Jane, one morning when she sat reading, “Mother, mother !" calling several times before her mother had time to look up. Jane ought not to have interrupted her mother while she was reading, --she had nothing really important to say. “Mother, mother, I want to know whether I may go and put the back parlour to rights.”

Yes, yes, you may,” said her mother, going on with her reading.

“Well—mother, mother!”
“What now, Jane ?

May I take down all the books from the shelves, and put them up better? I know I can put them up right again. May I, mother ?”

Yes, you may; but do not talk to me now, because I am engaged."

Jane went to work, making a great noise in taking down and putting up the books. Instead of clearing one shelf at a time, and filling it before she cleared the next, she took down all the books at once; and as she stood on a chair to replace them, she must needs jump down for each parcel as she set them up again.

“ O Jane!” her mother would now and then exclaim, as the volumes came tumbling upon the floor, “ do be a little more careful, and try to make less noise.”

But for Jane to have carried on any operation without making a great fuss, or occasioning interruption to other persons, would have been quite out of the question.

"There, mother, just come and see how much better that looks,” she said each time she had filled a shelf.

Because her mother did not attend at once, she went on calling “Mother, mother," until at last, becoming quite tired of being interrupted, her mother bade her leave the room as it was, and sit down to her sewing. Jane felt mortified and grieved at the reproof thus conveyed, and could scarcely repress her tears as she prepared to obey the direction.

Why, what is the matter, Jane ?” said her mother, laying down her book, and perceiving Jane's sorrowful looks. This question brought the tears at once into Jane's eyes.

"Why, mother,” she answered, “I was putting the book-shelves to rights as well as I could, when you spoke to me, and, -and, I was going—”

“Well, you did them very well, and I should have been glad had you finished them; but you made so much bustle about it, and talked so much, that I could not go on with my reading. I have never spoken to you particularly about this fault, but it is one that you can easily overcome.

You are a very lively, active little girl; I should be sorry were you indolent and dull; but when you have anything to do, I wish you to do it with as little noise and bustle as possible.

“Now, I will show you the difference between the bustling and the quiet way of doing things. Let me see,—what shall I do? Oh! ere the hearth-rug which is out of order.” One edge of the rug was turned under, and Jane's mother

walked to the fire-place, stooped down to the rug, and, with one or two strokes of her hand, spread it even, and smoothed out the fringe. “There, that is the quiet way of doing the thing; now I will show you the bustling way." Her mother then hurried to the fire-place, pulled away the chairs that stood near, rattled the shovel and tongs; then turned over the rug

in such a manner as to cause a great puff of smoke and dust from the fire; and then, in the same parading style, spread the rug down again. “That is the bustling way of doing it,” said her mother, sweeping up the hearth, and brushing off the ashes that had settled upon the chimney-piece.

“Now I will show you how it is for persons to talk and disturb others while they are engaged. Let us suppose that you have lost your thimble, and that I am going to look after it for you.” She then pretended to be looking for the lost thimble. "Why, Jane,” said she, hastily turning over the things on the table, where do you suppose your thimble can be ? Surely Susan must have mislaid it when she swept the parlour. İ wish she were not such a careless girl.” She then went to another part of the room, and looked under the sofa, continuing all the while to talk : “Why, Jane, perhaps you left your thimble up stairs; did

Jane-Jane-Jane, did you not leave your thimble up stairs ? Shall I go up and see ?

Jane stood laughing to see her mother acting iir this strange way.

“ You think it odd for me to act in such a manner,” said her mother, “but it is quite as improper in a little girl like you. Now," she continued, “I wish you to learn the quiet way of doing things, and

you not?

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