Mr. H. Well then, to begin, I must tell you that your grandfather had two dogs. One of them was called Julius, and the other's name was Tip. I dare say your uncle remembers them.

Uncle. Oh yes; I remember them quite well. And I think I know what you are going to tell.

Mr. H. Yes, I think you heard of it, though you were at school at that time. Your grandfather's dogs were very sad dogs for one thing-they were very fond of hunting. They would often run away from home, and be gone for a whole day, and then return in the evening, dirty and tired. Your grandfather did not approve of this, and the gamekeepers did not approve of it either. They complained that they often saw the two dogs hunting in the woods; and they said that they must shoot them if they were not kept from it. So your grandfather bought a chain, and chained up one of the dogs to a kennel; and he found that this stopped the hunting altogether, for neither of the dogs cared to go alone. When Tip went, as usual, to find his companion, and invite him to hunt, and found him chained up, he, too, stayed at home. This plan, then, succeeded very well; and to make the confinement less disagreeable to the poor dogs, we used to give them the chain by turns. But, one day, it was found that Tip had broken away from his

kennel, and taken the chain with him; and when search was made, neither of the dogs could be found. Night came, and presently we heard a scratching at the door. It was Julius returned from hunting alone. The poor fellow looked very sorrowful, and very much ashamed of himself. Then we said to him—“Ah Julius, you naughty dog, where's Tip?" He seemed to understand us, and looked at the door. So I said that I would go and look after Tip; and when I went to the door to open it, Julius jumped upon me, and seemed quite ready to go and show me the way. So we went together, and John, the servant, went with us; through the garden, then into the fields, over hedges and ditches, for a long distance: Julius all the time running before us, as if to show us the way. At length, we thought we could hear a dog barking a long way off; and when we came near to yonder wood, we heard it more plainly. Then we went on and on, into the middle of the wood, where we found poor Tip. The chain round his neck had become entangled in the bushes, and held him fast; and his faithful companion had run home to get assistance for him.

George. That was very kind; and I dare say he was very glad when Tip was found.

Mr. H. Yes, he jumped round and round him, and seemed to say, as plain as a dog could speak, "Thank you for coming to help

my dear brother Tip." One would have thought that this would have been a lesson to both dogs; but, not long after, they both ran away again, and were never more heard of.

George. What do you think became of them, father?

Mr. H. I am afraid that the gamekeepers shot them. But shall I tell you why I have told this little story?

George. If you please, father.

Mr. H. To show you that bad companions are very dangerous, not only to dogs, but to little boys. You see these two dogs encouraged each other in their bad practice, until both of them came to a bad end. And so it is too often with boys. One encourages another in what they both know to be wrong, until sad mischief is the result. "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.Walk not thou in the way with them; refrain thy foot from their path," Prov. i. 10, 15.

THE POND AND THE POWDER-MILL.

WHEN George's father had finished his story about the two dogs, they and uncle William left the tree under which they had been resting, and continued their walk.

About half a mile further on, they came to a beautiful wood, through which there was a nice shady walk. George was glad to get once more among the trees, for the sun was indeed very hot. On they went through the wood for some distance, first up hill and then down hill, until they came to a very steep bank. From the top of this bank they could see over the tops of the trees which grew at the bottom; and beyond this was a large pond, almost large enough to be called a lake.

Beyond the pond, there was another wood; and the trees of both woods reached quite down to the edge of the pond on either side. Mr. Hardy told George that he used sometimes to bathe in that pond when he was a boy.

"Yes," said uncle William; "and I thought you would like to bathe in it to-day, and so I have brought some towels with me.”

"And so I should," answered Mr. Hardy. So they all ran down the steep bank until they came to the bottom.

Then uncle William pushed aside the branches of some low bushes which grew under the trees, and showed a little narrow path which led down to the water side; and there were two or three nice bowers, which served instead of dressing-rooms. Then Mr. Hardy and his brother undressed themselves, and were soon swimming about in the water. George had never bathed in anything larger than a tub, and his father had thought that he would be afraid to venture in the pond; but when he saw his father and his uncle in, he asked if he might not undress and get in to them. His father told him that he might if he liked; and then he was soon splashing about almost up to his neck, and thought it capital fun. He tried to swim like his father and uncle; but all he got for it was a good sousing, which made him splutter finely. He did not try to swim again that day.