favourite studies for the sake of those he loved; but now that another opening arose for him, Mr. Heywood believed it would be best that Arthur should pursue the bent of his own genius.

"You are in your fifteenth year, Arthur," said Mr. Heywood one day, "you shall study mechanics with a first-rate engineer till you are eighteen, after which you shall be admitted into Merriton Factory on a rising salary, till you are twentyone, then Mr. Madderley and myself will receive you into partnership; and though you cannot under such circumstances bring your mother and sisters to a snug parsonage house as you intended, yet there is a residence in the valley, that if furnished and well kept, would be quite as pretty as any rectory in England."

66

But, father," said Alfred, as they were assembled one evening, talking about Arthur's departure for London, "I have been thinking seriously there was a general laugh at the idea of Alfred thinking seriously-" you need not laugh," he said, somewhat indignantly; "I was going to say, father, that you promised I should be a soldier when I had conquered all my enemies. Now," continued he, with an ingenuous manner, and a puzzled look," I have been looking out for enemies ever so long, and I can find none to conquer; and what did you mean by saying that cousin Arthur was a hero, and had conquered all his foes? I don't believe he has any."

'My boy," answered Mr. Heywood, drawing his son near him, "I will explain my meaning. By your enemies, I meant some very grave faults which have appeared from time to time. It was perhaps wrong of me not to explain myself at the time. One could hardly expect a little boy of ten to understand allegory. Your faults were of a nature seriously to impede you in a military life, and I much fear they are still unconquered. You have, however, yet time. By Arthur's having fought and conquered, I meant that he has become the best of conquerors, by conquering himself. Every selfish feeling, every impulse toward evil, your cousin has encountered single handed, and by God's help vanquished. He has found his reward even here in so doing, which is not always the portion of merit in this life. But," added Mr. Heywood, "it is hereafter that we look for complete safety and happiness. We are now in a preparatory state, before we enter another life; and the rewards of Heaven are all sufficient, even though we do not reap the fruit of our conquests at present. Let us vanquish the enemies within ourselves, and we need fear none without. Think of your cousin, and be like him, and no father will be prouder of a son than I shall be of mine. Fonder," he added, looking at Alfred affectionately, "I could not be."

never return, and rose next morning full of resolutions to conquer and overcome.

Subsequent reports have told us he was both diligent and successful. He was sent to college for a short time, and afterwards renouncing all idea of a military life, he engaged in commercial pursuits, until, the time arriving when Mr. Madderley retired from Merriton Factory, become then, by means of Arthur's energy and scientific improvements, one of the most prosperous concerns in England, he was admitted into the firm as junior partner. I never subsequently heard that our hero ever regretted conquering his own inclinations rather than the enemies of his country.

Y

LITTLE STRINGS.

A. J.

OU may have amused yourself with a face made of gutta-percha; pinching it one way, and pulling it another, and remarking what different expressions it will assume. When you left off pulling it, it returned to the same face it was before.

Now your faces are softer than gutta-percha, and they are full of little strings called muscles, and these muscles pull them one way or another, just according to your feelings. You feel sad; your little muscles pull your face into a doleful expression. We can tell by looking at you how you feel. Or you feel merry, then the muscles pull your face into smiles and dimples.

But often there are wicked passions at work at the strings. Anger pulls, and oh, what a disgraceful look the face puts on in a minute! Pride pulls the strings, or vanity, or discontent, or deceit, and each brings its own expression over the face.

The worst of it is that when these passions pull very often, the face does not return to what it was before, but the muscles harden and retain that ugly impression. By indulging in evil passions people may work their faces into such awful forms that sometimes when you meet a man in the street you can tell, just by looking at his face, what his character is.

A face that was very lovely when it was that of a child, has had the passion of anger pulling at it so often that it always wears a sullen, cross, dissatisfied look.

Now, dear readers, do you want to have pleasant faces that every one will love to look at? Then don't let the ugly passions get hold of the strings. Put them into the hands of love, and charity, and good will, and truth, and honesty, and then they will be beautiful faces.

I have seen faces without a single handsome feature, that were sweeter to look at than the most perfect features that were ever formed. And why? It is the expression; and what makes the expression? Oh, it all depends upon whether the bad passions or the lovely graces get hold of the little strings.-Truth and Progress.

DOLLY'S BROTHER BEN.

T is Saturday-and Dolly is standing at the gate, looking out for Ben. Ben, who goes to school all the week, but who comes home on Saturdays, to stay until Monday, "Black Monday," Dolly calls it, when she stands with her blue eyes full of tears to see Ben drive away. But Saturday is a red-letter day, and it is Saturday at present with Dolly.

"Do you hear wheels, Andrew ?" says Dolly, eagerly to the head man on the farm, as he comes through the gate.

Andrew smiles and shakes his head.

You're taking time by th' fore-lock, little Miss," he says pleasantly, as he "whoa ho's "his big horse into the yard.

Dolly's aunt, Miss Janet, comes out in her neat black dress, and silk apron, and a curl on each side of her face.

"Come and help me to gather some apples, Dorothy," she says. "You know I've some com

pany coming to dinner." Dolly turned her head with its little short cropped fair curls, towards her aunt. Gathering apples was pleasant watching for Ben was better,

work;

but Of all the world, that is, Dolly's world, she loved Ben the most.

Dolly's world was not a very big one. It was trees and fields, and flowers, cows, pigs, and poultry; and simple, homely country people lived in it, besides dumb animals.

"Ther'll be Uncle Sam and Aunt Betty, and your cousins Tom and Lilian," said Aunt Janet, as she filled her basket. "Now, I wonder how those ducks are getting on. I must go in, or Susan's sure to burn them. You can reach these Blenheim oranges, can't you, Dolly?"

Dorothy was perched upon a low branch of the apple tree. The sun shone on her little round face. "Yes, Aunt Janet," she said, "I'll bring them in to you in a minute."

And Aunt Janet bustled away. Dolly went on picking. They were splendid apples: soft, red and yellow, and very large.

"I'm glad I'm not a duck," said Dolly aloud, as she looked over to the pond, where the ducks were diving; "because I might be in the oven where Dick and Dilly is now, if Uncle Sam was coming."

A sound of stifled laughter behind the tree, made Dolly look round.

66

66

"A duck, indeed!" cried a voice; more like a goose, I think." Why, Ben!" screamed Dolly, all her apples tumbling helter-skelter down into the grass. Why, how did you come ?"

66

"Same way as usual," replied Ben, coolly picking up an apple and biting it. 'Jolly apples these; and I shall make Aunt Janet give me a basket full to take back."

"And how are you, dear Ben? Oh, I am so glad you've come!" cried Dolly, holding up her ace to be kissed.

66

Oh, Ben!" cried Dolly, coaxingly, “dear Ben, don't say that. I-I shan't if you won't, Ben." "Oh yes, you must-you're a girl," said Ben, "and so you've got to do as you're told. And Uncle Sam'll give you sugar-plums, and measure you with Lilian, to see who's grown the mostoh, I know well enough, and I'm not going to stand it," ended Ben, as he picked up another apple, and made a face of disgust.

"But Tom," began poor Dolly, her lips trembling. "Tom's a prig, and he's only fit to hold a yard measure-he's not the fellow for me!" cried Ben proudly-" with his fads."

Dolly did not say anything more; but she stooped down to pick up her apples, wisely wishing to save as many as she could while they remained-" Ben was so fond of apples."

"And look here, Dolly, if they ask where I am, say I'm gone off down the river, and I don't want any dinner-and mind you save me a pasty, whatever you do," added Ben with much gravity.

Dolly stood with her basket, listening to Ben's last directions, her blue eyes anxiously looking to see if Ben meant what he said about not going in to dinner.

"And anything else there is you think I'd like," said Ben, as if in answer to her look. "I can smell the pasties, anyhow. I say, Dolly, how jolly you look in your best frock, I declare! you beat any one else's little sister, all to nothing."

Dolly blushed up and smiled. She thought so much of Ben's opinion. She did so love him, that beside him, she said to herself, "Nobody seems nothing."

PART II.

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BEN, as he whistled along the river bank, did not mean to be selfish. Girls," he said, "must do as they are told; boys, as they liked."

Ben met a friend of his presently, a boy about his own age, whom Ben thought "a clever fellow." He often told Dorothy that Jack Nimble knew more dodges than any other fellow he had met. Jack was an idle boy; he had once been to sea for a short while, on a small merchant vessel; but he never stayed long at any work; and he was left much to himself at home. Jack was always telling Ben wonderful stories about the foreign countries he had seen. And Ben, as he listened, used to think that a sailor's life was about the best of all. Ben never dreamed of disbelieving Jack's yarns. The boys talked about water-rats, as they strolled on together, and Jack remarked, that Towser, his new bull dog, knew a rat when he saw him.

"Where is he ?" asked Ben, eagerly.

"He's asleep in the punt, Master Ben; among

the rushes," said Jack, carelessly, as he led the way towards the spot.

What fun it would be to get into the punt with Towser, and look for rats !" cried Ben, much delighted.

And in a minute more, the boys were seated in the crazy old boat; Towser, very wide-a-wake

for rats.

"This is jolly!" said Ben, as they glided on without finding any rats, farther and farther down stream.

"This ain't nothing, nohow," was Jack's scornful reply. "You should see a wave higher nor a house, coming right over the ship; it 'ud knock you flat as a pancake 'fore you knowed it."

And then Jack began one of his wonderful yarns; and the September sun was pleasantly warm; the banks seemed to be flying past them. Ben leaned back, his cap over his eyes, staring into

the blue

sky above.

Presently, Jack's singsong voice,

mingled oddly with

the

noise..

of the

water,

and the coo

of the wild wood

pi

but they were not like Ben. She kneeled upon the bed, and put up two little hands. Dorothy had been taught to take her troubles to Him "who blest little children, and smiled on them." She felt sure Ben would come after that.

There was a noise down-stairs. Aunt Janet scolding; Susan laughing; the dogs barking. Then some one ran up stairs, and came to Dorothy's room-was it Ben?-in very large boots, and a very odd fur cap on his head, and a fisherman's jersey on.

Yes, it was Ben, with lank, damp hair, all out of curl, and a curious look on his face. He was hugging Dolly.

"Oh, Doll," he said, lovingly, "it was an awful shame to leave you. I won't do it again. Forgive me, old Dolly."

"Oh! Ben, dear, I'm so glad. Oh! Ben, here's your pasty, and every think ready, and a new

shil.

ling

uncle

Sam

gave

me

'cause

I've

growed," cried Doro

thy tear

fully, yet laugh

ing

too.

And

she

made

him

sit by

her,

geons. Ben

was just in a pleasant dream. Uncle Sam was in the act of giving him a half-crown, when he started quickly. There was a jerk, a loud bark, and a splash. Jack's little weasel face was screwed up in dismay, as the punt turned over, and they found themselves in the

water.

It was past eight o'clock in the evening. Dorothy sat up in her little white bed, with wide-open, wet, blue eyes.

On the chair beside her, was a pasty, a slice of cake, and some sugar-plums. She was very miserable; Ben had not come home. Aunt, uncle, and cousins were gone. Uncle Sam's usual question, "What, little girl likes sugar-plums ?" had been duly answered. What a happy day it would have been if only Ben had

been there!

Tom and Lilian had been nice, thought Dolly,

tell his

story, and eat up the good things, every crumb.

"Who'd have thought the boat would capsise," said Ben. "Oh, Dolly! Jack's father's an awful old brick; he lent me these clothes."

"Is he, Ben, dear? goodnight," said Dorothy sleepily" are you going to say your prayers?" she added, opening her eyes again for a moment.

And then she fell asleep, her short yellow curls tumbled over her eyes. And Ben, who was ever so sorry, said his prayers.

In after years, Ben often thought of this evening; and Dolly's wet blue eyes; and his prayers by her little bed. He is a man now, and does not think so much of Jack's yarns as he used to do. Neither does Ben desire to be a sailor, not even for the sake of being knocked "flat as a pancake.

He tries to do his duty in the life to which God has called him, and he sometimes says, he does not deserve to be Dolly's brother Ben.