follow him a little way, and see how he gets along. and how much good his grumbling does him.

His little dog is ever at his heels, and seems not to be in any great trouble about the snow. He skims over it very easily. He, too, stopped at the tavern, as they came along, but he drank nothing. but water. That is one reason why he is so frisky. There, the man has turned the corner, and looks wistfully ahead, to see if there is any comfort in the prospect. It looks gloomy to him, but to those boys yonder, coasting down the hill, on their smooth-shod cutters, it is all bright, cheerful, glorious. He thinks how happy he was once, when as a boy, he revelled in the snow, and flew over the ice on his iron shoes. He wonders that a few years of time should make such a difference. He forgets that some men, older than he, are boys yet, and would take as much pleasure as any of them, in coasting, skating, or sleigh-riding. He dreads water, outside or inside, and the more "fire-water he takes inside, the more he finds it necessary to hug the stove, to keep his outer man warm. Well, I am sorry for him, and wish he would try the 'pledge," and keep it. The pledge, well kept, is as good as a blanket, or a stove, to keep one warm. The pledge, well kept, is a warm coat, a comfortable house, a cheerful heart and home-a fortune that cannot be lost. Try it, boys. Try it, men. Try it, women and girls. And if it don't turn out so, then I am much mistaken.

EMILY

THE HYACINTH.

was grieved because the winter lasted so long; for she was fond of flowers, and had a little garden, in which she raised some very beautiful ones, tending them with her own hands. Therefore she was very anxious that the winter might pass away, and the pleasant spring return.

'Look, Emily!" said her father, "I have brought thee a flower-root, a bulb, but thou must cultivate it thyself with care."

"How can I, father?" replied the maiden. "Every thing is covered with snow, and the earth is as hard as a stone."

Thus she spoke, for she did not know that flowers might be reared in vases. But her father gave her a vase filled with earth, and Emily placed the bulbs therein. She looked, however, at her father and smiled, doubtful whether he was in earnest in what he had said; for she imagined that flowers could not thrive unless they had the blue sky above their heads, and the mild breezes of spring about them.

In a few days the earth in the vase was raised, and green leaves sprouted forth. Emily was overjoyed, and she ran and told her father, her mother, and the whole household, of the growth of the young plant.

"How little is requisite," said her mother, "to

rejoice the heart, while it is still innocent and true to nature!"

Emily then sprinkled the plant with water, and smiled complacently upon it.

Her father observed her, and said: "That is right, my child. Rain and dew must be succeeded. by sunshine. The beam of the benevolent eye giveth value to the bounty which the hand dispenses. Thy plant will be sure to thrive, Emily."

The leaves soon appeared entirely above the surface of the earth, and were of a beautiful green. Emily's joy was greater than ever. "Oh !" she exclaimed with an overflowing heart: "I shall be content, though it should not produce a single flower!"

"More will be given to thee." said her father, than thou darest hope for. This is the reward of moderation, and of a heart that is content with little." He now showed her the germ of the flower, which lay hidden between the leaves.

Emily's care and attention increased every day, as the blossom gradually unfolded itself. With delicate hand she sprinkled it with water, and when a gleam of sunshine broke from the clouds, she carried the vase to the window, and her breath, light as the morning breeze that plays about the rose, blew away the dust that had settled upon the leaves.

"How sweet is the union of love and innocence !" said her mother.

Emily's thoughts were occupied with her flower, until she fell asleep at night, and as soon as she awoke in the morning. Often, too, in her dreams, she beheld her hyacinth in full blossom, and when, in the morning, she found that it was not yet unfolded, she was not troubled, but said with a smile, "I must have patience a little longer."

Sometimes she would ask her father whether the flower would be of this or that color, and when she had enumerated all the colors, she would say cheerfully, "But it is all one to me, so it do but blos

som !"

At length the blossom appeared. Early one morning twelve little bells were found expanded. They hung down in the full bloom of youthful beauty, between five broad leaves of emerald green. Their color was a pale red, like the rays of the glowing morn, or the delicate flush on Emily's cheek. The flower diffused around a fragrant odor. It was a bright morning in the month of March.

Emily's joy was calm and silent, as she bent over the flower, and gazed upon it. Her father approached, looked at his beloved child and at the hyacinth, and said: "Behold, Emily, what the hyacinth is to thee, that art thou to us!"

The maiden sprang up, threw herself into her father's arms, and, after a long embrace, she said, in a low voice: "Dear father! oh, that I could rejoice your heart as you have rejoiced mine!"