you'll break it. Take it a little easier. Here! give it to me, See, you place the blade-end of the spade on the ground, and with your foot-like this on the top of the spud, you press firmly. After you have made it enter the earth, you press down the handle and turn the loosened soil over, and then begin again. Although it is a good thing to have plenty of strength, after all, it's as much knack that does it as anything." After a few more lessons from his kindly instructor, he soon became quite an adept in the use of his garden tools; and by their joint efforts the rest of the bed was soon dug and raked into shape. "Oh! thank you very much for helping me," said Freddy, his face radiant with gratitude. "Never mind about that; I am only too glad to be able to do you a good turn," was the old man's response; "but it just struck me to ask you not to forget to look after your other garden." "What other garden ?" asked Freddy, a little surprised. 66 The garden of your heart. I'm no scholarI often wish I was-but when I was a lad, a bit older than you are, I used to be gardener's boy at Squire Aldrich's; and his daughter-such a nice lady she was, too-said to me one day, Tom, while you look after our garden, I hope you don't neglect your own.' As I didn't know I had a garden-like you-I felt a bit puzzled, and as she was so good and kind, I wasn't afraid to ask her what she meant. So she told me every one has a heart-garden, which we are to cultivate and keep in order for God. When I was a lad, I had what my mother used to call the bump of curiosity, so I wanted to know, if we really had a garden in our heart, where were the seeds and flowers. I shall never forget the answer she gave me. Tom,' she said, "every good thought or feeling you have is a good seed, which, if you encourage, will expand and grow until it blossoms into the flower of a good action. Every evil thought is a bad seed, which, if not checked in its first growth, will increase and multiply into weeds of sin. Look after your good thoughts, and beware of your evil ones; and look up to Him, who, like the sun that ripens and makes the corn to grow, will help you to bring forth much fruit.' "She must have been a very clever lady to talk like that," said Freddy, very much impressed with what he had heard. "But we don't use spades and rakes in the garden of our heart; did she tell you what they stood for?" "No, she didn't. But I have thought since, that, as it is with the spade and rake the ground is prepared for the reception of the seed, so reading in the Bible of God's love, and what he would have us do, prepares our hearts for the reception of good thoughts; and ever since that time," Tom added, "I never do any gardening work without being reminded of the words, 'Don't forget your heart-garden, Tom.' As weeks went by and summer approached, under old Tom's guidance Freddy was able to make a wonderful improvement in the appearance of his garden patch. And as under the genial influence of the sun's rays the buds began gradually to burst and open, revealing their treasures of form and colour, Freddy felt himself fully repaid, for all the time and labour he had given to it. Freddy's garden, to his no small pride and satisfaction, brought joy and pleasure to others beside himself. It helped to soothe the sick couch of a little girl. The poor little suffering one was confined to her room with hip disease. Her mother, who was a struggling, hardworking widow, could do little to cheer or lighten the burden of her illness; so she had to lie nearly always alone in a bare and dingy room, with no other outlook but a dreary prospect of roofs and chimney-pots. When Freddy heard of her, through his mother's visits. her desolate condition touched him deeply, and he longed to do something to make her life less wearisome. He was thinking what he could do, when it suddenly struck him perhaps she would be pleased with some flowers out of his garden. So Freddy thought, the next time his mother went to see the little invalid, he would make up a bunch of the best flowers he had for her. Poor little Minnie! how her eyes brightened at the sight of them; they made her think, she said, of the land where the trees are always green, and the flowers never fade. Are there any of my readers who have flower gardens of their own? If there are, let them not forget those who are ill and suffering. How many a pain may be made lighter by a little thoughtful kindness! What an amount of pleasure may sometimes be given by so simple a gift even as a buttercup or a daisy. OLD AMOS. THE "MERRY SPRING-TIME." FTER a long and dreary winter, how pleasant is the return of spring! During the long sleep in which Nature indulges between November and February or March, we-and more especially those of us who live in cities or towns -are apt to forget almost that there is anything worth looking at or thinking about except what is fashioned by man's hands; but when the first mild days of spring come, what a new world of beauty and pleasure reveals itself to us! And what fresh life and hope spring up within' us! Now that the Winter's gone, the earth hath lost Children now, in every school, Wish away the weary hours; Lanes and fields to race about! Now with shrill and wondering shout, Of course, at all seasons of the year there is much for a lover of Nature to admire. Even in the depth of winter it is so. When the trees are stripped of their foliage we can look upon the curious forms of their trunks and branches, where outlines are thrown into bold relief by the glittering frost or snow; there are the ponds and lakes changed into a firm marble-like parchment; shining icicles of curious shapes hang about; window-panes are covered with crystals, which, if we look into them, we shall find full of the most beautiful devices, and not a mere mass of frost, as we may at first suppose; whilst above us are the starry heavens, which exhibit And Mary Howitt has said: remarkable pureness and beauty on a clear frosty night. But when spring appears, the earth is clothed with beauty which is almost beyond compare, because all is fresh and new; it is a resurrection from what seems to us, but what is not so in reality, the death of Nature. Spring has ever been a glad time with the poets, both at home and abroad. We could fill the pages of the BRITISH JUVENILE two or three times over with the pleasant verses which have been written upon the theme; but we must be content with only a very few specimens. The American poet, Oliver Wendell Holmes, thus describes spring's return :— The sunbeams, lost for half a year, Slant through my pane the morning rays; At first the snowdrop's bells are seen, When wake the violets, Winter dies; When sprout the elm-buds, Spring is near; When lilacs blossom, Summer cries: Bud, little roses, Spring is here!" And much more to the same effect. Dr. W. C. Bennett describes some of the appearances of spring in the following strain : Now do tawny bees along, Plundering sweets from blossoms, hum; Down from larks, upmounting, come; Now doth sing, Now is every hawthorn-bough Burdened with its wealth of May; On the ground, Now they sort the wonders found. In all the years which have been The Spring hath greened the bough- The early flowers expand; Before us lies the Spring-time- Once more, Charles Swain writes on this joyous Spring! Spring! beautiful Spring! Song sweetly saluteth the morn; The robin awaketh, and sits on the thorn; Welcome! oh! welcome, beautiful Spring! There when we sat down, pen in hand, it was our intention to tell you what we thought of spring-how we love it now, and how in our younger days, before the world's cares and businesses bound us to the town, we revelled in its simple beauties-the budding hedge-rows, the primrose-decked copses and banks, the cowslip and daisy-besprinkled meads; with what delight we sought out and peeped into (but did not take) the marvellously-constructed and cunninglyhidden birds' nests!-instead of which, we wandered from one garden of poesy to another, culling here a flower and there a flower, which we strung together, just as you see them above. They are far better than anything we could have possibly made "out of our own head;" so, after all, the boys and girls who read the poetical description of Spring will probably be glad that we did not trouble them with our prose. In conclusion we may give just one more extract; it is from a poet who wrote-though not in verse-hundreds of years before the Christian era :-"Lo, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land." Of course, you know that these words appear in the Book of books. C. H. GOING ASHORE FOR CHURCH. GOING ASHORE FOR CHURCH. (SEE ENGRAVING, PAGE 56.) CHAPTER I. N a fine, calm, Saturday afternoon in the month of February, four or five years ago, Her Majesty's good ship "Alberta" dropped anchor in the Bay of Naples. "I hope some of you fellows will be allowed to go ashore to church to-morrow, and that I shall be sent in charge of one of the boats, at any rate," said a tall young midshipman of sixteen to Jem Bowling, a giant of a sailor, and a universal favourite with all on board, from the captain down to the cabin boy. 66 "I am glad to hear you say so, sir," was the nearty answer. My wishes go with yours. The service at sea is, no doubt, very impressive; but there is something home-like and comforting in praying in a building prepared for that purpose." "Oh! no doubt," replied Walter Frankland, in a tone that puzzled his companion; and then, with an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders, the young gentleman went below to the midshipmen's quarters, leaving Jem Bowling somewhat exercised in mind to reconcile the apparent contradiction of Mr. Frankland's eagerness to be ordered ashore to church, and his subsequent betrayal of indifference to devotional services. The fact was, Walter cared nothing about church. He considered services at sea or ashore equally wearisome. But he had entered the navy chiefly because he had got a grand notion of seeing the world, and this profession appeared to promise him most opportunities of doing so. At present, however, his expectations had been wofully disappointed. He had been two years at sea, and the only place he had been able to make any real acquaintance with was Malta. And even that had been a vexatious experience, for, just when the little midshipman was beginning to shoot up into a tall youth and make a few friends, the ship had been ordered off elsewhere. Altogether, Walter felt that circumstances had fallen out very badly. But now, at last, his ship was in the Bay of Naples, and he should be able to boast to his former schoolfellows, when he got back to England, that he had actually seen Mount Vesuvius. There it was before his eyes now. For his own part he was rather disappointed in it; it did not reach up nearly so close to the sky as he had expected; but he should not tell his friends that, and, at any rate, there was a faint redness from the fire within, gleaming through the smoke that was issuing out of the mouth of the crater-that was something. Then if he turned round a little, he could see that rocky little island of Capri, on which the Roman Emperor Tiberius was so fond of building villas, and down the awful sides of whose precipices the tyrant used to fling the helpless victims of his wild fury. Then there was Ischia, too, famous for something he did not quite know what, for he had not yet read about Vittoria Colonna and her flower-garden island. But while Walter Frankland could see all this, and the site of Pompeii-or nearly so-besides, the white line of Naples itself, stretching along the shore, attracted his eyes more than all the rest, and made him feverishly eager to obtain permission to land and gain a glimpse of the inner wonders of the world-renowned queen of cities. One boat had already gone off from the "Alberta" with letters and despatches, but Frankland was not fortunate enough to be one of its company; and he had heard that they were to hoist anchor again on Monday. Thus the order for church was his only hope; and while noble, simple-minded Jem Bowling was rejoicing even though doubtfully-that his young companion was beginning to care for higher things than mere sight-seeing, the poor foolish fellow was only filled with a longing to gratify a propensity that was more than half composed of vanity. A wish to see famous places, people, or things for the mere desire of crowing over others who have not seen them, is a very poor, mean wish, although it is to be feared there are a good many unwise individuals who nourish this empty desire. Frankland had returned to the deck of the vessel, and was leaning over the side, looking out with envious eyes at the man of-war's boat which was already coming back from the shore. Certainly, he admitted to himself, he had not much cause for envy, for the boat's crew could barely have had time to run a few hundred yards or so along the quay. For his own part, he should like a longer visit to the land; yet those others could at least say they had been in the city of Naples, and he could not, so he must continue to envy them after all. Then he fell to pondering over what he would try to see first if he went ashore, and meantime the boat came to, and his companions came on board again. A few minutes later he received a summons to the captain's cabin. "Come in, Frankland," said Captain Rae, cheerfully. "I have some pleasant news for you; but there! here is a letter for you just brought out in the boat, and I dare say it tells you the same that a letter I have received tells me. You can open it at once and read it." Walter waited for no second bidding. The handwriting on the envelope was his mother's, and his face flushed, and his eyes beamed with joy when he discovered from the hurried note it contained that she and his sisters had reached Naples a week before, and having seen the arrival in the bay of his ship, were earnestly hoping to have the happiness of seeing him the following day. As he looked up from his letter he met the captain's smiling eyes. "Well, youngster," he said goodnaturedly, "I am sorry for your sake that we are not going to stop longer in this beautiful bay; but half a loaf is better than no bread, you remember. I mean to send some of the men ashore to church or chapel to-morrow, and you shall be appointed to one of the boats. I will give orders to put off early enough for you to be able to look your people up and go to church with them. One word more. Five o'clock in the afternoon will be the hour for leaving the shore; mind you are punctual. Duty before all things." CHAPTER II. NEVER did the Bay of Naples look a more glorious blue, nor the white line of its joyous city look more smiling than on Sunday morning, when Walter Frankland sprang out of his hammock and gave a look round to see what promise there was of a happy day. "And don't flatter yourselves, young ladies," he exclaimed mentally, apostrophising his sisters, “that I shall come straight off to you the moment I land, for you to plume yourselves on having seen ever so much that I haven't. No, indeed; I shall take a turn round first, and learn up a thing or two about the place, and then make my way to the Hotel Anglaise on the-on the-C―h—i—aj-a. Ah! well, I'll get one of the natives to tell me how to pronounce the horrid word." Meantime the young midshipman, busy with his hands as well as his brain, proceeded rapidly with his toilet. He looked uncommonly "nice,' as his sisters would have said, when dressed in his blue uniform with its silver buttons. Then he put on the gold watch which had been his father's parting gift, making full display of the massive gold chain across his breast, and as a finishing touch to his personal appearance, he adorned the little finger of his right hand with a diamond ring which had been left him by his grandfather. "Hullo! what a swell you are!" exclaimed one of his companions when he went on deck, where many of the party were gathered, ready to get into the boats. "He evidently means to astonish the natives," laughed another. 66 They'll more like astonish him, if he happens to get parted from his comrades wi' all that gay show about him," muttered an old sailor to himself, who from past experience knew somewhat more of the natives than did the young lads about him. The first boat was lowered and put off with its joyous crew; then closely followed the second, in which were Frankland and Jem Bowling. As the oars fell for the first time with their even, measured plash into the blue waters, Walter rose and waved his hand to his fellow-midshipman in the foremost boat, and shouted a gay challenge as to which would reach the landing stage first. Gallant Jem Bowling and his companions, with the ready good nature of the British tar, instantly bent in earnest to their work, and earned the desired triumph for their young commander for the time being. "Ay, sir; you see, I was brought up in it. But that is yours too, I'm thinking, sir, is it not? and I'll see you there with the ladies an hour hence, I hope ?" "You'll be pretty sure to see my mother and sisters, Bowling. They wouldn't miss church for the world, any more than you, when it's possible to get there. But I am not so sure that you'll see me. You know a fellow does not get a chance every day of his life of seeing Naples.' 66 But, sir, pardon me-" and big, brave Jem Bowling, who would have almost faced a lion without flinching, dropped his eyes, and stammered before the gay young boy. 'If you'll please forgive my boldness; but if you'd go to church you'd have fine time for a grand walk after. And the services in these foreign places ain't never long." 66 There, there, all right, Bowling; you're as good a fellow as ever lived, no doubt about it," laughed the lad. "You've eased your conscience, and I'm not a bit offended-quite the contrary-and so now you can go to church happy yourself for having done your duty, and you can pray for me. too, you know, if you choose, that some day I may take to liking service as much as you,' Jem Bowling did not forget the random request of the thoughtless young midshipman. The two companions left the rest of their party to their own devices, and walked together along the quay, watched admiringly by a young Italian girl's pair of bright black eyes. While she gazed at the good-looking Englishmen, a roguish little Neapolitan ragamuffin came slily behind her, and with one of his dirty bare feet mischievously kicked over the prettily-arranged pile of oranges she was exhibiting for sale. A volley of passionate words burst from her lips, but at the same time tears of vexation sprang to her eyes as she bent forward to recover her rolling property; and kind-hearted, chivalrous, Christian Jem Bowling ran forward and began to help her with the energy he put into everything he did. Her tears soon changed to smiles, and grateful words came with even more fluency than the angry ones had done. Walter looked on. It would have soiled his jewelled hand or his white gloves to pick up oranges from the dusty road. 66 Well, good-bye for the present, Bowling," he said at last. "We shall see each other in this same place again at five o'clock, at any rate, if we do not meet anywhere before." And so they parted, the sailor trying to learn his way alone to the Scotch church, Walter turning down the first street that promised to reward him by its exploration. Two Italians followed him. He did not care much for the appearance of that street; he turned into another that was dirtier still, and still narrower. He hastened into a third; the two Italians were still following, and they hastened too. At length they were close behind him, just as he paused to peer into a dark archway. The next instant-without time for one faint cry, for one useless effort at "You go to the Scotch church, I believe, Bow-resistance-he was within the archway, a thick ling?" asked Walter, as they stepped ashore. CHAPTER III. strong gag in his mouth, a heavy covering of |