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great mass, slow-ly, sol-emn-ly. You can-not per-ceive that it stirs, the great-est storm does not rock it, the keen-est eye can-not dis-cov-er a mo-tion, but mo-ment by mo-ment, day by day, it pas-ses to the south, where it wastes a-way, and van-ish-es at last.

In June and Ju-ly they are most nu-mer-ous, and there is oft-en much dan-ger from their neigh-bour-hood in the dark moon-less nights; but the ther-mom-e-ter, if consult-ed, will al-ways in-di-cate their ap-proach; it fell eight de-grees when we neared the ice-berg which I have now de-scribed, and the cold was sen-si-bly felt.Hochelaga."

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LESSON LXX. THE CORNISH MINER.

Deep down in the shaft of a Corn-ish mine, two mi-ners were bu-sy put-ting in a shot for blast-ing. They had fin-ished their work, and were a-bout to give the sig-nal for be-ing hoist-ed up. One at a time was all that the man at the wind-lass could man-age. Whilst the first was reach-ing the top, the sec-ond was to kin-dle the match, and then in his turn to mount with all speed.

Whilst they were stand-ing to-geth-er, one of them thought that the match was too long, and took a cou-ple of stones, a sharp and a flat one, to cut it short-er. He did cut it of the right length, but, hor-ri-ble to re-late, kin-dled it at the same time. And the two men were still be-low!

Both shout-ed ve-he-ment-ly to the man a-bove at the wind-lass, both sprang at the bas-ket; but the wind-lassman could not move it with them both. What a mo-ment for the poor mi-ners! In-stant and ter-ri-ble death hangs o-ver them, when one gen-e-rous-ly re-signs him-self.

"Go aloft, Jack," says he, and sits down qui-et-ly; "in one min-ute I shall be in heav-en." The bas-ket bounds up-wards, the ex-plo-sion in-stant-ly fol-lows, bruis-ing Jack's face as he looks o-ver; he is safe a-bove ground, but what of poor Will who saved him? At length all was still. One by one they ea-ger-ly de-scend-ed, dreading to find on-ly his shat-tered re-mains. But he was safe; God was with the mi-ner in his liv-ing tomb, and caused the rocks to form an arch o-ver him, so that he was found a-live and lit-tle in-jured.

The sto-ry of this man's prompt and calm he-ro-ism, re-cord-ed in the news-pa-pers of the day, at-tract-ed the ad-mi-ra-tion and in-te-rest of a gift-ed vis-it-or in that neigh-bour-hood. He thought it worth in-ves-ti-ga-ting, found it to be ac-cu-rate-ly true, and re-ceived from Will's own lips the ex-pla-na-tion- "I was rea-dy, but Jack was not!" What a power in this an-swer of strong and sim-ple faith, from a hum-ble Christ-ian, un-learned of man, but taught of God. He knew that "his sins were for-giv-en him for his Sa-viour's sake." He that hath the Son of God hath life. O read-er, whose eye fol-lows this sto-ry, are you "like-wise rea-dy?"

LESSON LXXI.-FISH OUT OF WATER.

A rich tur-bot was told of a fam-i-ly of perch-es in Cey-lon, that, when its na-tive pool is dry-ing up, crawls o-ver land with o-pen gills, and cros-ses dus-ty roads to find an-oth-er. An in-quis-i-tive mack-e-rel was his

in-form-ant.

"My dear Mac," said the tur-bot, "what pos-ses-ses you that you must tell me this? I have long been

think-ing that there must be, some-where o-ver the land,

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much bet-ter wa-ter than this great salt wash of ours; but I can-not walk, Mac; some-bod-y must take me to it."

As he spoke, a net de-scend-ed through the sea. "O," said the tur-bot, "this is too good. Here is some one of-fer-ing to pull me up." So he jumped brisk-ly in; was ta-ken up, and car-ried o-ver-land with a great deal of care. The best of wa-ter was pro-vi-ded for him in

the fish ket-tle.

The mack-e-rel, when his friend leapt in-to the net, swam off, for he sup-posed it would be time e-nough for him to im-i-tate the perches, when the dry-ing up be-gan. Henry Morley.

LESSON LXXII.-SAGACITY OF AN ELEPHANT.

One eve-ning, whilst ri-ding in the vi-cin-i-ty of Kan-dy, my horse e-vinced some ex-cite-ment at a noise which ap-proached us in the thick jun-gle, and which consist-ed of a re-pe-ti-tion of the e-jac-u-la-tion urmph! urmph! in a hoarse and dis-sat-is-fied tone. A turn in the for-est ex-plained the mys-te-ry, by bring-ing me face to face with a tame el-e-phant, un-ac-com-pa-nied by an-y at-tend-ant. He was la-bour-ing pain-ful-ly to car-ry a heav-y beam of tim-ber, which he bal-anced a-cross his tusks, but the path-way be-ing nar-row, he was forced to bend his head to one side to per-mit it to pass end-ways; and the ex-er-tion and in-con-ve-ni-ence com-bined, led him to ut-ter the dis-sat-is-fied sounds which dis-turbed the com-po-sure of my horse. On see-ing us halt, the el-e-phant raised his head, re-con-noi-tred us for a mo-ment, then flung down the tim-ber, and vol-un-ta-ri-ly forced him-self back-wards a-mong the brush-wood so as

to leave a pas-sage, of which he ex-pect-ed us to a-vail our-selves. My horse hes-i-ta-ted; the el-e-phant ob-served it, and im-pa-tient-ly thrust him-self deep-er in-to the jun-gle, re-peat-ing his cry of urmph! but in a voice ev-i-dent-ly meant to en-cour-age us to ad-vance. Still the horse trem-bled, and anx-ious to ob-serve the in-stinct of the two sa-ga-cious an-i-mals, I fore-bore any in-terfe-rence. A-gain the el-e-phant of his own ac-cord wedged him-self fur-ther in a-mong the trees, and man-ifest-ed some im-pa-tience that we did not pass him. At length the horse moved for-ward; and when we were fair-ly past, I saw the wise crea-ture stoop and take up its heav-y bur-then, turn and bal-ance it on its tusks, and re-sume its route as be-fore, hoarse-ly snort-ing its dis-con-tent-ed re-mon-strance.-Tennent's" Ceylon."

LESSON LXIII.-LITTLE PILGRIMS.

Lit-tle trav-el-lers Zi-on-ward,
Each one en-ter-ing in-to rest,
In the king-dom of your Lord,
In the man-sions of the blest;
There to wel-come Je-sus waits,

Gives the crowns His fol-low-ers win;
Lift your heads, ye gold-en gates,
Let the lit-tle trav-el-lers in.

Who are they whose lit-tle feet,

Pa-cing life's dark jour-ney through,
Now have reached that heav-en-ly seat,
They had ev-er kept in view?
"I from Green-land's fro-zen land;'
"I from In-di-a's sul-try plain;"

"I from Af-ric's bar-ren sand;"
"I from is-lands of the main."

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All our earth-ly jour-ney past,
Ev-er-y tear and pain gone by,
Here to-geth-er met at last,

At the port-al of the sky;
Each the wel-come "COME" a-waits,
Con-que-rors o-ver death and sin,
Lift your heads, ye gold-en gates!

Let the lit-tle trav-el-lers in !-Edmeston.

LESSON LXXIV.-CARE OF CLOTHES.

The mas-ter of a school was ac-ci-den-tal-ly look-ing out of the win-dow one day, and saw one of the boys throw-ing stones at a hat, which was put upon the fence for that pur-pose.

When the hour set a-part for at-tend-ing to the gen-e-ral bus-i-ness of the school had ar-rived, and all were still, he said, "I saw one of the boys throw-ing stones at a hat to-day; did he do right or wrong?"

There were one or two faint mur-murs, which sound-ed like “wrong;" but the boys gen-e-ral-ly made

no an-swer.

"Per-haps it de-pends a lit-tle upon the ques-tion whose hat it was. Do you think it does de-pend upon that?" "Yes, Sir."

"Well, then, sup-pose it was not his own hat, and he was throw-ing stones at it with-out the own-er's con-sent, would it be plain, in that case, wheth-er he was do-ing right or wrong?"

"Yes, Sir; wrong," was the u-ni-ver-sal re-ply.

"Sup-pose it was his own hat, would he have been right? Has a boy a right to do what he pleas-es with his own hat?"

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