HIS is a most excellent pastime. It should be played in a spacious place, out of doors if possible, and the more they are engaged in it, provided they be of the same height and agility, the better is the sport. We will suppose a dozen at play :-Let eleven of them stand in a row, about six yards apart, with all their faces in one direction, arms folded, or their hands resting on their thighs, their elbows in, and their heads bent forward, so that the chin of each rests on his breast, the right foot advanced, the back a little bent, the shoulders rounded, and the body firm. The last begins the sport by taking a short run, placing his hands on the

shoulders of the nearest player, and leaping with their assistance-of course, springing with his feet at the same time-over his head, as represented in the cut. Having cleared the first, he goes on to the second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. in succession, and as speedily as possible. When he has gone over the last, he goes to the proper distance, an 1 places himself in a position for all the players to leap over him in their turn. The first over whom he passed, follows him over the second, third, fourth, etc.; and when he has gone over, the one who begun the game places himself in like manner for the others to jump over him. The third follows the second, and so on until the parties are tired.

The manner of playing Leap-Frog about London is different, and, as we think, much inferior in safety, appearance, and amusement:-A lad places himself with his hands on his knees, his body nearly doubled; and his side, instead of his back, turned toward the leapers, who, with a short run, take their leap at some distance from the lad who is to be vaulted over; he who takes his leap the farthest off, is reckoned the best player. This, it may be readily imagined, is by no means so lively as the real game of Leap-Frog, which we have above described. The boy, who is to be leaped over, receives the greater shock from the jumpers; and he is in more danger of being thrown down by, or having a blow on his head from, their knees.

"DON'T kill me,"-caterpillar said,

As Clara raised her heel,
Upon the humble worm to tread,
As though it could not feel.

"Don't kill me,-I will crawl away,
"And hide away from sight,
"And when I come, some other day,
"You'll view me with delight,"

The caterpillar went and hid

In some dark, quiet place,

Where none could look on what he did, To change his form and face.

And then, one day, as Clara read

Within a shady nook,

A butterfly, superbly dressed,
Alighted on her book.

His shining wings were dotted o'er
With gold and blue and green,
And Clara owned she naught before
So beautiful had seen.

"THERE IS A SILVER LINING TO EVERY CLOUD."

THOUGH dark seems the future, and the present is dreary
Keep still a brave heart and a resolute will;

In the good cause of progress, oh! never be weary,
But fight 'gainst oppression and tyranny still.
Remember, though dark is the cloud that's above you
And no dazzling sun in the horizon is shining,

And no one in the wide world to care for and love you,
That to every dark cloud there's a bright silver lining.

Still keep on your way, and your duty pursuing,

Till your life and your labor and duties are o'er ; Then receive your reward for your faithful well-doing, And fear not oppression or poverty more. But remember through life, though the voyage be hard, For 'twill save thee regret and much sorrowful pining, Though your stay upon earth has been checkered and barred, That to every dark cloud there's a bright silver lining.

HARRY KNOW-NOTHING;

OR, WHICH END WILL YOU HAVE?

H

ARRY was a genuine know-nothing-not such an one as we have about now-a-days, who profess great love for their country, but show only love to themselves; who know nothing of the true interests of their country, but know enough of other things to be able to do a vast deal of mischief. Harry was a real bona-fide know-nothing-an ignoramus, who loved play, and hated work, who loved idleness, and hated books, and who, consequently, never learned anything useful, or failed to learn anything mischievous. His mother was very indulgent, and gave him a great variety of playthings, seeming to have no other wish than that Harry should "enjoy himself." His father did not quite approve this kind of education, and used often to say, that, if Harry did not soon alter his course, and learn something useful, he would certainly "come out of the little end of the horn" at last.

When Harry was a very little boy, he had a kite