less; then, as her husband did not speak, she said:

"Mistress Blackbird, I think you must be a very ill-natured person. If, as you say, you know all about the neighbourhood, it was clearly your duty, when you saw us come fresh into it, to have warned us.'

"Oh, dear no,” replied the elderly bird, from her screen, "I never mix myself up with other people's business. I find that best," she added. "Best for yourself, perhaps, but what about the other people?" questioned Mistress Linnet, dolefully.

The blackbird took no notice of this remark, but herself again began to speak. She said, "I always know when people build in that tree that they will come to grief.'

"It was not for my own satisfaction I chose this high tree," explained Mistress Linnet, "but I wanted the little ones to have a good start in life, and I know so much depends upon appearances."

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Humph!" was the unsympathetic answer. "Pride always goes before a fall."

Here the expression of mingled defiance and reproach upon Mistress Linnet's face changed to one of fear. She heard the whistling of the wind again, and knew that another gust was coming.

The gust came-a terrible one: so bad that it blew Mr. Linnet, who was at last about to speak, right off the branch. But, oh, joy! it also blew the nest safely back again into the fork of the tree, where it remained secure.

Of course, the Linnets had to stay in that tree until their family was grown up. But, as soon as possible afterwards, they removed to another neighbourhood, and Mistress Linnet never forgot the lesson she learnt that windy day, and she always told her children never to sacrifice comfort and safety to appearances. "If you are able to combine the two things," she would say, all well and good, my dears. But take the advice of one who learned in a bitter school, and never sacrifice comfort or right to mere show."

M

THE WELL PAID DEBT.

A. C. B.

R. ARCHER had his peculiarities. And, indeed, who is without? He had at one time been a well-to-do cotton merchant, but failure in trade had reduced him to comparative poverty; still, it was said, he had sufficient left to enable him to live in moderate independence. Yet, when he left Manchester for a small county town, not far distant, he again set up in business in quite a different line. People said it was a whim; but whim or not, he succeeded in establishing himself as a bookseller.

There being no comfortable dwelling house attached to his shop, he took a pretty residence about an hour's walk from the town, where Mrs.

Lenox, a widowed sister, who enjoyed a comfortable income of her own, presided as housekeeper. Mr. Archer, though an old bachelor, had taken the reverses of fortune in his declining days much better than most men. He was of a happy contented disposition, excellent in character, though hasty in temper. Being a thorough bookworm was, perhaps, the reason he chose to become a bookseller; for he was once heard to say, before his business was properly established, that he read more books than he sold.

At first Mr. Archer's business increased but slowly; and he and Miles Coverdale, his shopman, managed affairs between them, though they seemed to forget that a little extra brushing and dusting would have made their shop more attractive to customers. Mrs. Lenox had often endeavoured to impress this fact upon her brother, and one day, finding the shop in more than usual disorder, the began again to remonstrate with him.

"My dear Montague," she said, " why not have a boy? You would do more business if you kept the shop cleaner."

My dear Matilda, the profits won't allow it," was the answer.

But Mrs. Lenox urged the point, and in the end Robert Hartley, grandson of old Jacob Hartley, who had formerly been a porter in Mr. Archer's warehouse in Manchester, was engaged as shopboy.

Mrs. Lenox took much interest in the Hartley family; she knew that to take Robert would be a great help to his parents, for his father's health being delicate, his mother, who was an ender and mender, was the main support of the family.

So Robert Hartley entered Mr. Archer's service, and his kind friend Mrs. Lenox arranged for him to sleep at her brother's house, where, when not engaged at the shop, and in his spare time, he often made himself useful. Mr. Archer found some cause of complaint at this, and declared testily that if he was to have a boy he must have one all to himself; no half-shop, half-house boy for him; so he engaged another lad, George Weston, who lived in the town.

Mrs. Lenox was annoyed, said a good deal about her brother's whims and fancies, and refused to send Robert home again, knowing how great would be the disappointment to his parents. She resolved to find him employment about the house and garden, and in order that he might have full occupation, and to add to the family comforts, bought a cow and a number of fowls. These arrangements had not been long made, when Mr. Archer bethought himself he required Robert at the shop for an hour or two every evening, and to help George, who was rather slow, in the shutting up.

"But surely, my dear brother," argued Mrs. Lenox," Miles Coverdale and George are sufficient without Robert, who has to be up early in the morning, and is tired at night."

"No matter, my dear, I will have it so; since the shop of my neighbour Johnson was broken into I have been more particular about the secu

rity of my own. I intend making it a rule that Miles, George, and Robert, shall each go over the whole place every night to examine every door, window, and fastening, and if I find any neglect of duty, whoever is in fault, I will dismiss him at

once."

His intentions in this respect, Mr. Archer had also made known to the three persons most concerned.

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Crotchety old fellow," grumbled George Weston, in whose character respect for his elders and superiors was not a leading trait, "he's full of whims and fancies. It's well to be you, Bob; you're not with him all day, but can live at the house and have good fare. Wish I were you!" From this remark, and others George had before made, Robert felt that he was envious of him; but he did not suspect that George only waited an opportunity to displace him in the good opinion of Mrs. Lenox and her brother, for it never entered his shallow head but that if he succeeded he would jump into Robert's shoes at once. He often contrasted the comforts he enjoyed with his own home, where misery and discomfort were no strangers.

While George was to be blamed, he was also to be pitied. Unlike Robert, he had had no one to lead him to better thoughts; an orphan, he had been cast upon the mercy of relations, who looked upon him as a burden.

At length the opportunity George desired occurred. A valuable parcel of books had to be conveyed to the house of a gentleman; the parcel being heavy, Robert was sent with him to help. They carried the burden in turns, until they reached a bridge that spanned the canal.

"Let's stop here a bit, Bob, and watch the barges," said George, resting the parcel on the parapet of the bridge.

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No, no," cried Robert, "no stopping on errands for me; I'm not going to rob master.'

"Rob master! what do you mean?" "I mean that when we waste our time, or rather his time, for he pays us for it, we rob him.” "Don't see it," said George, who still remained leaning against the parapet, looking down at the water, Suddenly a cry escaped him; the parcel had slipped from his grasp and fallen below.

Hearing the exclamation, Robert turned back and looked over the bridge to see the parcel on the bank, the paper wrapper burst asunder by the force of the fall, and a boatman standing by, looking up, and using angry language, declaring himself to have been struck and hurt by it. Seeing only Robert, George having drawn back, the man directed all his anger against him, and finally threatened he would call upon his master, whom he said he happened to know, and tell him what a careless lad he had about him.

George not only allowed Robert to bear the blame, but saw in it the long-wished for opportunity to displace him.

The books had of course to be taken back, being damaged by the accident. Mr. Archer had left for the evening. Miles looked very grave about the matter, and said he should tell their master

in the morning, who would soon find out which had done the mischief, for both protested innocency, each laying blame to the other. In the morning, however, before Miles had an opportunity of speaking to Mr. Archer on the subject, the boatman called to complain of the injury he had sustained from the falling books, his motive really being to extort money. Robert had got permission from Mrs. Lenox, to go down to the shop that morning to vindicate himself; but his attempts to do so proved vain. Mr. Archer flew into a violent passion, refused to believe him, and accepted the story of George and the boatman. To do the latter justice, he really thought Robert was the one in fault, having seen only him on the bridge.

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A week's notice, sir," were the words that fell from his master's lips. To Robert they came with terrible meaning; then he was ordered to quit the room. As he did so he noticed a look of exultation on the face of George Weston, whom he overheard say,

"Please, sir, may I have Robert's place? I can do the work here, and at the house too, better than he, because I am both older and stronger." Overreaching persons often mar their own schemes by being premature.

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No," was the angry reply.

The occurrence caused quite a dissension between Mr. Archer and Mrs. Lenox: the former maintaining his belief in George's version of the matter, the latter in that of Robert, for whom she pleaded very hard that he might not be sent away; but all the concession granted was that his notice should be extended from a week to a month; something in that time, she hoped, might prove his innocency.

Robert Hartley went about his work depressed, yet not hopeless; he had faith in God, and believed He would not allow him to remain suffering unjustly; and that what was now crooked would be made straight.

Such thoughts as these were passing through his mind one evening, when he heard Miles Coverdale calling him to go his round of the premises to see that they were safe. George was the first to go the round, and having returned, it was Roberts turn to perform the same duty.

At the top of the house was a trap-door leading to the roof. The day having been extremely sultry, this and other doors and windows had been thrown open to admit as much air as possible; it was, however, unusual to open the trap-door, and this might account for George forgetting to close it, though it did not excuse him. When Robert went up he found it open. Here now, had Robert been evilly disposed, was a fine opportunity for revenge upon one who had proved himself an unprovoked enemy. But revenge is sweet to little minds alone. Robert Hartley, though a poor boy, was noble in heart and possessed a kind and forgiving spirit: to return good for evil, was his principle.

"One mend-fault is worth two spy-faults; I'll hide George from blame," were his thoughts. There was no time to be lost, for even now he

heard the footsteps of Miles Coverdale on the stairs. To spring up the ladder and close and fasten the trap-door was the work of a moment; and none save himself and George, whom he afterwards told, ever knew that this duty had been neglected; one which would surely have lost George his place.

"Thank you, Bob," said George; and he added under his breath, "it's more than I deserve."

Returning good for evil will often make an enemy a friend-will turn evil thoughts into a purer and better channel. George was stung by remorse of conscience. There and then he would go and confess to Mr. Archer that he, not Robert, had let the parcel fall; but he wavered, lacking moral courage. It frequently requires more courage to do what is right than to be a brave soldier. Many a noble purpose has been lost through wavering? No, he would leave it till the next day." The delayed time proved too

late.

"I have called," said a gentleman to Mr. Archer, the following evening, "to asked you to be kind enough not to send the books I ordered up to my house for another week as I am going out of town. I am sorry there should have been such an accident with them; I should have thought Robert (I believe that is the lad's name) quite old enough to have been more careful, and to know better than stop upon his errands; had he followed the advice of his younger and lesser companion, he would have done right. I happened to be on the other side of the bridge, and saw the whole affair."

“I think you are mistaken, Mr. Olden; it was the younger and lesser of the two lads who let the parcel fall over the parapet."

"It was nothing of the kind, Mr. Archer, I assure you; my eyes did not deceive me; it was the taller of the two; allow me to see them both, and I will soon tell you."

Both lads happening to be in, they were at once called.

"That is the boy," said Mr. Olden, pointing to George; "I thought his name was Robert." George trembled and turned pale.

Away with you, boy," cried Mr. Archer, reddening with sudden passion. "Take your wages and begone."

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Please, please, Sir, do not send him away," interposed Robert, pleadingly; "he has no father nor mother, and no proper home; he will be better if you will only keep him on; please try him, Sir."

"What, you plead for him!" cried the angry master; "you, whom he has wronged! Do you know that he tried to work you out of your place to get it for himself! Ah, I see it all now."

Yes, Sir, I know, but do forgive him this once.

I don't think he will do wrong any more."

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And can you forgive him, my lad?" asked

Mr. Olden, deeply impressed.

Yes, Sir, if we forgive not, how can we expect

to be forgiven? the Bible tells us so."

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Right, my boy," said Mr. Olden, who now joined his entreaties to those of Robert, in favour

of George, till Mr. Archer consented he should remain, for a little time at all events. When they were alone, George took the hand of Robert

"You have made a man of me, Bob," he said; "I will be worthy of your friendship."

Ten years have passed. Mr. Archer has come into possession of considerable wealth, through the death of a relative; his sister, kind Mrs. Lenox, is still with him; he has given up his hobby, the bookseller's shop, which necessity never obliged him to take. Miles Coverdale is dead. George and Robert are living; they are still firm friends, esteemed and respected by others. Over the shop which once bore the name of Archer, may now be seen the name of Weston and Hartley, signifying that George and Robert are in partnership.

"It never would have been Bob, but for you," George observed once, alluding to their mutual success; "it was through you paying me back good for evil.”

That was a well paid debt.

JOHNNY AT SCHOOL.

E. B.