take. As he was slowly creeping along, a hungry kite, soaring in the air above, descried him, and making a stoop carried him off in her talons. Poor Squirrel, losing his senses with the fright, was borne away with vast rapidity, and seemed inevitably doomed to become food for the kite's young ones: when an eagle, who had seen the kite seize her prey, pursued her in order to take it from her; and overtaking her, gave her such a buffet, as caused her to drop the Squirrel in order to defend herself. The poor animal kept falling through the air a long time, till at last he alighted in the midst of a thick tree, the leaves and tender boughs of which so broke his fall, that, though stunned and breathless, he escaped without material injury, and after lying awhile, came to himself again. But what was his pleasure and surprise, to find himself in the very tree which con

tained his nest. Ah! said he, my dear native place and peaceful home! if ever I am again tempted to leave you, may I undergo a second time all the miseries and dangers from which I am now so wonderfully escaped.

A DIALOGUE

ON DIFFERENT STATIONS IN LIFE.

LITTLE Sally Meanwell had one day been to pay an afternoon's visit to Miss Harriet, the daughter of Sir Thomas Pemberton. The evening proving rainy, she was sent home in Sir Thomas's coach; and on her return, the following conversation passed between her and her mother.

Mrs. Meanwell. Well, my dear, I hope you have had a pleasant visit.

Sally. O yes, mamma, very pleasant; you cannot think what a great many fine things I have seen. And then it is so charming to ride in a coach!

Mrs. M. I suppose Miss Harriet showed you all her playthings.

Sally. O yes, such fine large dolls so smartly dressed, as I never saw in my life before. Then she has a baby-house, and all sorts of furniture in it: and a grotto all made of shells, and shining stones. And then she showed me all her fine clothes for the next ball; there's a white slip all full of spangles, and pink ribbons; you can't think how beautiful it looks.

Mrs. M. And what did you admire most of all these fine things?

Sally. I don't know-I admired them all; and I think I liked riding in the coach better than all the rest. Why don't we keep a coach, mamma? and why have I not such fine clothes and playthings as Miss Harriet?

Mrs. M. Because we cannot afford

it, my dear. Your papa is not so rich, by a great deal, as Sir Thomas; `and if

we were to lay out our money upon such things, we should not be able to procure food and raiment and other necessaries for you all.

Sally. But why is not papa as rich as Sir Thomas?

Mrs. M. Sir Thomas had a large estate left him by his father; but your papa has little but what he gains by his own industry.

Sally. But why should not papa be as rich as any body else? I am sure he deserves it as well.

Mrs. M. Do you not think that there are a great many people poorer than he, that are also very deserving? Sally. Are there?

Mrs. M. Yes, to be sure.

Don't

you know what a number of poor people there are all around us, who have very few of the comforts we enjoy? What do you think of Plowman the labourer ?

I believe you never ssw him idle in

your

life.

Sally. No; he is gone to work long before I am up, and he does not return till almost bed-time, unless it be for his dinner.

Mrs. M. Well! how do you think his wife and children live? should you like that we should change places with them?

Sally. O no! they are so dirty and ragged.

Mrs. M. They are, indeed, poor creatures; but I am afraid they suffer worse evils than that.

Sally. What, mamma?

Mrs. M. Why I am afraid they often do not get as much victuals as they could eat. And then in winter they must be half starved for want of fire and warm clothing. How do you think you could bear all this?

Sally. Indeed I don't know. But