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Now, as I said before, the cause of all this change, which produces so much weakness and disorder, is doing things without advice. And so the author of this ancient book advises us, "Do nothing without advice, and when thou hast once done, repent not.” Now we will suppose a case. A little girl makes up her mind to get up early in the morning to study or sew. This should not be done without advice, and careful thinking about it. It should not be done in a hurry. She should ask her mother if it would be sensible to do so, and wait two or three days to see if she still thinks it would be a good thing, and would like to try it. Then if her mother advises her, and she continues in the same opinion, she ought to begin it. And now she has to consider the next part of the text, "when thou hast once done, repent not" that is, do not change your purpose after you have begun. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." Do not let one or two failures dishearten you; this life is a life of discipline, and failures teach us to be humble and lowly in mind. And so, by doing nothing without advice, and not changing our purpose after we have begun, we shall build up our characters firmly. There are some people so unstable in all their ways that no one can depend upon them. Their characters are like miserable hovels, weakly built, which, as soon as they are finished, already begin to totter and fall. But boys and girls that do nothing without advice, and when they have begun persevere to the end, are building up their minds like skilful masons, and they will be saved from the confusion that attends the ruin of human character. And to this end we would constantly pray, "O Lord, in Thee have I trusted, let me never be brought to confusion.”

IT were better for a man to be subject to any vice than to drunkenness; for all other vanities and sins are to be recovered, but a drunkard will never shake off the delight of beastliness; for the longer it possesseth a man, the more he will delight in it; and the older he groweth, the more he shall be subject to it : for it dulleth the spirits, and destroyeth the body as ivy doth the old tree, or as the worm that engendereth in the kernel of the nut.-Sir W. Raleigh.

The Father and Jupiter.

HE man to Jove his suit preferred :
He begged a wife-his prayer was heard.
Jove wondered at his bold addressing,
For how precarious is the blessing!
A wife he takes; and now for heirs
Again he worries Heaven with prayers.
Jove nods assent. Two hopeful boys
And a fine girl reward his joys.

Now more solicitous he grew,
And set their future lives in view.
He saw that all respect and duty

Were paid to wealth, and power, and beauty.
Once more he cries-"Accept my prayer:
Make my loved progeny thy care;
Let my first hope, my favourite boy,
All Fortune's richest care enjoy.
My next with strong ambition fire;
May favour teach him to aspire,
Till he the step of power ascend,
And courtiers to their idol bend.
With every grace, with every charm,
My daughter's perfect features arm.
If Heaven approve, a father's blest,"
Jove smiles, and grants his full request.

The first, a miser at his heart,
Studious of every grasping art,

Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain,
And all his life devotes to gain;
He feels no joy, his cares increase,
He neither wakes nor sleeps in peace;
In fancied want (a wretch complete)
He starves, and yet he dares not eat.

The next to sudden hondurs grew,
The thriving arts of courts he knew ;
He reached the height of power and place,
Then fell, the victim of disgrace.

Beauty with early bloom supplies

His daughter's cheek, and paints her eyes.
The vain coquette his suit disdains,
And glories in her lover's pains.
With age she fades, each lover flies-
Contemned, forlorn, she pines and dies.

When Jove the father's grief surveyed,
And heard him Heaven and Fate upbraid,
Thus spoke the god : "By outward show
Men judge of happiness and woe.
Shall ignorance of good and ill
Dare to direct the Eternal will?
Seek Virtue; and, of that possessed,
To Providence resign the rest."


The Mare and Foal.


HE island of Krutsand is formed by two branches of the Elbe, and is frequently under water in spring tides. In April, 1794, the water rose so quickly one day, that the mares, which were grazing in the plains with their foals, found themselves standing

in deep water. They then, by a loud neighing, called a consultation how to save their young, which they did by every two horses taking a foal between them, pressing their sides, and lifting it above the water. By this time, all the horned cattle were swimming towards home, but there stood these noble animals for six hours, till the tide receded, and the foals were no longer in danger.

A gentleman had a favourite mare and colt grazing in a field on the banks of the Severn. One day the mare came in front of the house, and, by snorting and stamping, drew the attention of the inmates. Upon the groom following her, she set off galloping, and, on reaching the field, the mare was found standing looking into the river, over the spot where the foal was lying drowned.

The Rev. M. Hall, in his travels through Scotland, says of the Shetland ponies, that when they come to a boggy piece of ground they put their noses to it, and then pat it in a peculiar way with their fore feet. From the sound and feeling of the ground they can tell whether it will bear them. They do the same when they come to a pond frozen over with ice, and they never make a mistake.


UNE, the month of leaves, christened by the poet Spenser "Jolly June," is generally supposed to owe its name to Juno, queen of heaven, wife of Jupiter, and the only married goddess in all Olympia; but the investigations of learned men have proved without doubt that this, the fourth month of the Roman calendar, was dedicated to á Juniorious, i.e., to the junior branch of the Roman legislature, in the same way as the preceding month was named in honour of the Majoribus, or senior division. Popularly, however, Juno is the patroness of the month, which is generally said to be favourable to marriage. On the 21st of the month the sun, having come as far north of the equator as he is permitted, pauses, and seems to stand still, ere he once more pursues his journey. So far as warmth of temperature is concerned, June is the least favoured of all the months of summer. It is only in the latter days of the month that the attributes so freely ascribed to it in poetry are really applicable. Then the trees are dressed in their richest foliage; the leaves, untouched by the scorching rays of the sun, are of the greenest; the chestnut blossoms refresh the eye and enrich the landscape; the golden laburnum droops in graceful clusters; and the rose—the queen of flowers—makes the garden gay with colour, and fills the air with its pleasant odour. The mower,

too, now begins his work, and the tall grass is swept down and spread out in the sun to dry as hay. The month, on the whole, is a very pleasant one, especially to those who live in the country, and who therefore have much purer air than we who live in the town and are exposed to the smoke of the large mills and manufactories. In conclusion, I think that, although this month of June does not always fulfil the predictions in its favour, yet the distich always comes true that—

June brings lilies, tulips, roses;

Fills the children's hands with posies.


Longsight, May 9th, 1873.

Fees to Servants.

HE custom of giving money to servants was at one period carried to such a pitch that a man could not dine with his father, brother, or nearest relative, or friend, unless he paid twice as much for his dinner as he would at the best tavern in town. "I remember," says Dr. King, “ a Lord Poer, a Roman Catholic peer of Ireland, who lived on a small portion which Queen Anne had granted him. He was a man of honour and well esteemed, and had formerly been an officer of some distinction in the service of France. The Duke of Ormond had often invited him to dinner, and he as often excused himself. At last the duke kindly expostulated with him, and would know the reason why he so constantly refused to be one of his guests. My Lord Poer then honestly confessed that he could not afford it. "But," says he, "if your grace will put a guinea into my hand as often as you are pleased to invite me to dine, I will not decline the honour of waiting on you." This was done, and my lord was afterwards a frequent guest at St. James's Square.

A still more whimsical anecdote, of a similar nature, is related of another Irish peer, Lord Taafe. He was a general officer in the Austrian service; but resided in England a few years on account of his private affairs. When any friends who dined with him were going away he always attended them to the door; and if they offered any money to the servant who attended—and more than one he never suffered to appear he took care to prevent them by saying, in his manner of speaking English, "If you do give, give it to me for it was I that did buy the dinner."

The honour of first putting an end to this disgraceful practice is due to the Scottish gentry. In the year 1759, there was a meeting of the principal gentry of the county of Aberdeen, to take the practice under their consideration. They resolved that it was a custom "not only pernicious in respect to servants, but likewise a thing shameful and indecent of itself, and destructive of all real hospitality; that they would discourage it as far as lay in their power; and for that purpose engaged, and gave mutually

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