visible cords drawing the maternal soul upward. "Still, small" voices, ever whispering Come! to the world-weary spirit.

"Two in heaven!"

Mother of angels! Walk softly! holy eyes watch thy footsteps! cherub forms bend to listen! Keep thy spirit free from earth's taint; so shalt thou "go to them," though" they may not return to thee."

I

THE DRUNKARD'S WILL.

LEAVE to society a ruined character, wretched example, and memory that will soon rot.

I leave to my parents, during the rest of their lives, as much sorrow as humanity, in a feeble and decrepid state, can sustain.

I leave to my brothers and sisters as much mortification and injury as I could well bring on them. I leave to my wife a broken heart, a life of wretchedness, a shame to weep over me, premature death.

I give and bequeath to each of my children, poverty, ignorance, a low character, and the remembrance that their father was a monster.

"THA

hold the thread for your mother to wind, than go and play with the boys in the street," said Mr. Stanley. "Yes, sir," replied Johnny, "I would rather help her as long as she needs me, then I can go and play and enjoy it."

That's the boy for me," said Mr. Stanley to me in a low tone, "I shall keep an eye on that boy; when he grows up, I would rather have him in my store than nine-tenths of the boys, for the boy that loves to do as his mother wishes him, will be faithful to his employees."

Mr. Stanley passed on to his office, for he was a wealthy merchant, and had many clerks under him,

and I watched Johnny till the thread was all wound, and several other things were done for "mother," then he asked, "is there anything else, mother?" and she answered "no, my son, you can go and play awhile now," and away he bounded with a light and joyous heart, singing that beautiful song,

"I ought to love my mother,

She loved me long ago:
There is on earth no other
That ever loved me so.
When a weak babe, much trial
I caused her, and much care,
For me no self-denial

Nor labor did she spare."

I watched those boys at play, and could not but notice the difference with which they entered into the sport. Johnny entered into the exciting game with all the love of a warm enthusiastic nature-he had a quiet conscience within-he had done his duty, and he could enjoy it; but his companions who stole away from home without helping their mothers, or wilfully left against their express commands, had but little true pleasure. If any thing went wrong, they were sure to speak cross and were inclined to grumble at almost everything. They were idlers too, because they would not work, and could not play with any enjoyment. What says the poet?

Don't stand in your tracks doing nothing but grumble,
But start with a run if you meet with a tumble;
You had better be scoured by rubs in the dust

Than to be in your idleness eaten by rust.

You will find this true, boys, that he who does cheerfully what his parents require, enjoys his play very much more than he who disobeys and tries to have his own way. And then, when you grow up, and want to find friends, remember that he who loves to "help mother," will always find warm friends to help him along in the world. Try it boys and girls, and you will find it so.

FRANKLIN'S MODE OF LENDING MONEY.

66

SEND you herewith a bill of ten louis-d'ors. I do not pretend to give much-I only lend it to you. When you return to your country, you can not fail of getting into some business that will, in time, enable you to pay all your debts. In this case, when you meet another honest man, in similar distress, you will pay me by lending this money to him, enjoining him to discharge the debt by a like operation, when he shall be able, and meet with such another opportunity. I hope it may pass through many hands, before it meets with a knave to stop its progress. This is a trick of mine to do a great deal of good with a little money. I am not rich enough to spend much in good works, and am obliged to be cunning, and make the most of a little."

COLD WATER SONG.

THE bright sparkling waters
That gush from the hills,
And gladden the valley's
With streamlets and rills,
Oh! they never, never fail,
But with laughter and song,
From springtide till springtide,
They're flashing along.

There's life in their sweetness,

There's health in their flow,

And they whisper of heaven
Wherever they go;

And they scatter, scatter wide
The treasures they bear,
As pure as the sunshine,
As free as the air.

Come, then, all who hear me,

To fountains divine, Touch, taste not, nor handle

Gin, brandy, or wine. They wither, wither all,

Bud, blossom, and fruit,
But the bright sparkling waters
Are health to the root.

They gush without money,
They flow without price,
To the hut of the beggar,
The hovel of vice-
They're laden, laden richly

With promise of wealth,
And insure to the temperate

Contentment and health.