given him, which was taller than he was himself. He did not know how to manage it, and would not wait till his father came home, to show him. He rushed out. at once, into the road. His mother followed with little Charley, and offered her assistance. But Harry, as know-nothings generally do, thought he knew all about the matter. He laid the kite down on the ground, and then, unrolling his string, ran furiously off, without heeding which way the wind was blowing. As might be expected, he ran the wrong way. The kite did not rise, but was dragged along in the dust, till it encountered a stone, and then, snap went the back-bone, and the kite was spoiled. Harry took up the wreck, found the paper torn in several places, and the whole toy utterly past mending. At this he cried violently, and blamed his mother, for not preventing it. then-for thoughtless boys are always unreasonable -he fell into a passion with Charley, because he laughed, and said "Mamma good-Harry naughty." Just then, Harry's father came along, and, when he

And

saw how things were going, he took Harry into the house, and had a long talk with him, trying to show the folly of passion, and the evils of idleness. "Harry, my dear," said he, "if you do not improve, you will surely come out of the little end of the horn."

As Harry grew older, he only grew more fond of play, and more in love with idleness and mischief. When he was ten years old, he could not read respectably, and could not write a word, or a letter. He had been sent to school, but gave no attention to his lessons. He often strayed away into the fields, or stopped by the way, to play with all the idle boys he met. Many a time, I have seen him in the

road, his cap thrown carelessly on the ground, and his satchel by its side, wasting half the morning in playing at ball, or marbles, with some companion as himself, and paying no heed to the call of the bell, when it rang the hour for school to open. Harry thought this was all fun, and that he knew the way

to be happy, better than father, or mother, or teacher, or all the world beside.

Well, in time Harry became a man. His father lied. His mother was poor and he was compelled to do something for his own living. But what could he do. He had never learned anything useful. He had no habits of study, or application, or self-denial, all of which are essential to any kind of success. Nobody had confidence enough in him, to trust him with any important matter, or regard enough for him, to make any great effort to help him. He tried various kinds of occupation, but proved so ignorant and unskillful in all that he undertook to do, that nobody was willing to employ him long. The employment he obtained was of the lowest and most laborious kind, and that which brought the poorest wages. Harry was often tired and often hungry. He frequently regretted the idle and unprofitable course he had pursued, and wished he had given heed to the advice of his father. Had he been a good reader and writer, with habits of diligence, he might have secured a clerkship in some mercantile house, or a place in a railroad office. Had he given early attention to his arithmetic, he might have become an engineer, or a surveyor, or perhaps a teacher. But, alas! poor Harry, he was fit for nothing, but plain hard work. He had no resources in himbelf-no knowledge of history, or the world, no thoughts worth dwelling upon. And, when he hought of his early home, of his kind father, of the

many lessons he had received, the warnings he had wantonly slighted, he felt and acknowledged that he was already, as his father had often predicted, coming out of the

LITTLE END OF THE HORN.

A GOOD RULE.-It is always a good rule to follow, to step in no path, to speak no word, to commit no act, when conscience appears to whisper, Beware. You had better wait a twelvemonth, and learn your duty, than to take a hasty step, and bring tears and repentance to a dying day. How many a lost man might have been saved, had he listened to an inward monitor, and resisted the first inclination to deviate frem the holy path of rectitude. Sec far away before you, and on either side, the ground whitened with the bones and sinews of millions who have perished ignobly in the march of life. They resisted the spirit of truth, and fell. They trusted to themselves, and sunk at the onset. Take warning by them. Could their bones live, breathe, and speak, how earnestly would they appeal to you! They would compel you, as it were, to pursue a virtuous course, that your end might be joyous and not degraded.

THE CHILD AND THE ANGEL.

"ALONE upon the beach I stray,

The curling waves around me play
I sing my merry roundelay,"

Thus spake a little child.

"Sweet child," said I, "why free from care,
Why stray you fearless everywhere,
Nor have a thought of how you'll fare
When storms are howling wild?”

"Once on a time, I dreamed a dream,
And, stranger, then it seemed to seem
As though an angel's kindly beam

Shone, dazzling, round my head.
That beauteous form, it said to me,
'I shall thy guardian angel be;
Therefore be fearless, wild, and free,
Nor make thy cares like lead.

"When future cares before thee rise,
Think not of them, but be thou wise;
Seize every moment as it flies,

And do thy duty then.

Thus shalt thou do that which is right,
Which having done with heart contrite,
When Death removes, thoul't live in light,
Far, far from human ken.'

"Thus spake the angel unto me,
And this is why I'm merry, free,
Gladsome, blithe, and full of glee—
I do my duty now."

"Yes, child, thour't right, thou doest well,

Thy seniors thou dost much excel;