of them, and the other will be little Mary's, and you must learn that selfish children are not so happy, nor so much beloved, nor have they so many pleasures, as those who are generous and kind; and this is not the first time that my little girl has shown herself selfish."

Now my little friends will see that Eliza would have been much happier had she been like her brothers, and pleased her mother; for then she would have had a pretty white rabbit to play with and to feed; and she would have seen that her mother loved her, and felt that she had been good; and even if she had had a little rabbit, and her brothers had not had any, still they would have been happier than Eliza, because good and generous children always feel happier than those that are selfish.

LESSON XLVIII.

THE LITTLE MISER.

MR. and Mrs. Anderson had four children; and

William was one of them. He would never spend a penny, like other children, upon fruit or toys; but used to put all the pocket-money that was allowed him, and all the money that anybody gave to him, into an old garden pot.

The garden pot was covered over with a piece of wood, and hidden in a corner of the garden, under some earth and brick-bats, so that no one should see it, or know where to find it. The greatest pleasure

William had was to count over his money, and to cover it up again.

When William and his brothers and sisters were seated one morning at breakfast, his father said, "Children, do you know that last night, while we were all sleeping safely and quietly in our beds, there was in another part of the town a dreadful fire, which has burnt the houses, and the clothes, and the furniture, of a number of very poor, but very honest people?"

"O, poor creatures, that is very shocking: I wonder what they will do!" said Sophy. "I am going to tell you, love," said the father. "After there has been a fire, there are always many people who go to see the ruins."

"What do you mean by ruins?" asked Edward.

"After a house has been burned, so as to fall down, there remains in the place where the house stood, a great heap of the brick-bats, and wood, and mortar, of which the house had been made, and even sometimes there remains still a part of the house; now this, altogether, is called the ruins.

"Do you all understand me, children?" asked the father. The children said they understood it very well; and he went on.

"Now I was telling you, that many people go to see these ruins. There stands a man near the place, with a box, or plate in his hands, and he holds the box or plate to the people who go, and they put money into it; and this money is given to the poor people whose things have been burnt.

"Your mother and I are going to take a walk to

the place to-day, and if any of you like to go with us, we will wait till you all come from school."

The children thanked their father, and said they should like to go; and as soon as breakfast was over, the children went to school. At twelve o'clock they all came home again, and found their father and mother ready to go; and Sophy asked her mother, whether she intended to give anything to the poor people.

The mother said, she went there on purpose to give them something. "Your father," said she, "will give for himself and me." Sophy said she had three sixpences, and that she would give one of the sixpences to her father, that he might give it for her.

Edward said, he could not give anything, because he had given as much as he could afford, the day before, to a poor woman who went to the hospital. Little Anna, the youngest child, said, "Pray, father, do you think that threepence will do the poor people any good?"

Threepence alone, my child," said the father, "would do but little good; but when we think that many persons will give threepence a-piece, who cannot afford to give any more; and that all these pence together will make a large sum of money, I think you will do well to give it to them."

William stood in the corner of the room; but he did not say a word, or offer to give anything. "William," said the mother, "now you may do good with some of the money you have. I am sure you must have a great deal, for I believe you never spend anything."

"No," said William, "I never spend any. I have all my money safe."

"And for what purpose do you keep it, my dear? What do you intend to do with it?"

"I do not intend to do anything with it; I like to keep it, and get more to put to it."

William's father told him, that money was of no use, except when we would do good with it, either to ourselves, or to those who are in want of it. "If you saved your money to do anything with, or to buy anything with, or to give to any body, I should think you did right; but, as it is, William, I think you act very wrong."

When William's father had said this, they all set out; and when they came to the place where the fire had been, they found many poor people, and many poor children.

Some were sitting half naked, because all their clothes had been burnt; and many poor children were crying for their fathers and mothers: some of them had been burnt in the fire; or had otherwise hurt themselves in jumping out of the windows to save their lives.

When Mr. Anderson, the children's father, put the money, which he and their mother gave, into the box which the man held in his hand, Sophy said softly to her brother William, "If you could only be half as happy as we are, from thinking that what we give to these poor people will help to serve them in their distress, you would not mind giving them all you have."

"There is no need of my giving them anything," said he. "Do you not see how many people are giving them money?"

"But," said Sophy, "suppose everybody, instead of giving them something, had said, 'O there will be people enough to give; I have no need to give,'-do you not think they would have had very little?"

William had not had time that day to look at his money and count it; and therefore as soon as they all got home, he went into the garden, to the place where he always kept it, and lifted up the brick-bats which covered his garden pot.

He then lifted up the bit of wood which lay over the pot; but how vexed and sorry he was to find his money all gone, and a parcel of stones put there instead of it, with a little piece of paper, on which was written

"Foolish boy! you have only lost that which you did not use; and stones will do to count as well as money."

ONE

LESSON XLIX.

JOHN TOMPKINS.

NE honest John Tompkins, a hedger and ditcher, Although he was poor, did not want to be richer; For all such vain wishes in him were prevented By a fortunate habit of being contented.