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He was looking for something better than grace and beauty and mere ornament. The wise bee knew it could not be found on the dew-spangled skirts of the "morning-glories" and "fouro'clocks;" and so, also, he passed by the languishing fuchsia, the blue harebell, gorgeous pansies, and red-capped gladiolias. They all looked after him as he flew past, wondering why they were neglected, and saw him linger near the clover-blossom, almost hidden down under the grass.

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honey we have is that which we beg from our friends the clover-heads."

"Take what I have to give you, busy bee; you may have my honey," said the cloverblossom pleasantly. “Ah! I am of some use, then," she thought, as the bee flew away from the garden, laden with honey taken from her blossom. "It is better to live and die in the shade down here with the gentle green grass, than to be a brilliant garden beauty. I would rather be useful than ornamental." The evening breeze wafted the tall blade of ribbon-grass down toward the clover-blossom, as she murmured these thoughts to herself.

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The handsome flowers all wondered why the bee passed them by and came to you," said the ribbon-grass. The clover made no reply. She had learned the sweet spirit of contentment; she was happy, because she knew that, however homely, she was of some use in the beautiful world in which the Creator of all things had placed her.

If any of my little readers should taste the sweetest honey from the hive, perhaps they may remember that from the clover-blossom the bee gathers

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E shall not have room for you at the table to-day, my dear,"

said mamma to her little daughter Helen, who stood waiting at her side, with smooth hair and clean white pinafore. "Take your dinner up-stairs, and eat it in the nursery.”

Helen took the plate which was offered her, and slowly left the room. When she reached the staircase, she mounted two or three steps, then, setting down her plate, seated herself beside it and folded her hands. Her papa happened to be poorly, and had not joined the family at their early dinner; but, as he was sitting in his study with the door open, he saw all that went on. Going to his little girl, he asked what was the matter. Helen told him that

her mamma had sent her upstairs to eat her dinner, because there was not room for her at the dining-table.

"Well then, darling," said he, kindly, "take your dinner; mamma is not angry with you." Having said this, he went back to his room, while Helen went up two or three more steps, and then again seated herself sullenly as before.

She knew that her papa was right, and that her mamma was not displeased at her, but her pride rebelled against being treated as a person of little importance in the house, and therefore sent away to make room for others.

Twice more her loving and patient papa reasoned with her in vain; then, as he found her still disobedient, he carried her upstairs, put her into her little bed, saying, "When you come to me and tell me you are sorry, I will forgive you, and give you a kiss, but not before.'

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As soon as he was gone, Helen fell into a violent passion, and stormed and cried till she was tired. When she was calmer, other thoughts began to arise, and conscience, which, as my young readers know, is a voice within that tells us when we have done wrong, whispered

that she had been a naughty child, that her papa was justly displeased with her, and that God was angry with her too. As the day closed, and all became silent, this thought stood out plainer and plainer as she lay in the darkness, and it became very terrible, till the little girl wished she could sleep and forget it. But Helen could not sleep; she was afraid to say her prayers, and she felt very miserable indeed. At length she cried herself to sleep; but when the morning came, the painful thoughts came back, and she felt as if a weight were lying on her heart. After breakfast she went into the garden and played with her ball, and battledoor and shuttlecock, but there seemed to be no pleasure in play. The weight was still upon her, and she could not shake it off. She had displeased her papa; he had not forgiven her, and nothing could make her happy.

At length she recollected that he had said he would forgive her if she asked him, and she looked in at his open study door. There he sat, writing at his table, but she was afraid to speak to him, and drew back hastily. Again and again she peeped in, till at last

her papa looked up and saw her, and smiling, said, "Come in, Helen."

In a moment she was in his arms, sobbing out her confession. "O, papa! I have been such a naughty girl; will you forgive me?" Her father kissed her, and reminded her of

her sin against her Heavenly Father, and of her need of pardon from Him, even before confessing her disobedience to her mamma and himself. Helen stood convicted; she felt humbled and penitent; and it is to be hoped the lesson will not be lost upon her in the time to


I wonder if any of my young readers sometimes forget themselves like the young girl above spoken of? If they do, I hope conscience will speak to them about it in such loud tones as to drive them to confess their sin to God; and lead them also to confess their fault and seek forgiveness and reconciliation from parents, brothers, and sisters, or others. A proud, sullen temper, is one of the many sad marks of our sinful nature; and only the grace of God can deliver us from its power.-The Gospel Trumpet.



E find in Scripture that most of the manifestations of the will of God made to eminent saints took

place when they were busy. Moses is keeping his father's flock when he sees the burning bush; the city of Jericho when he Joshua is going round about meets the angel of the Lord; Jacob is in prayer, and the angel of God appears to him; Gideon is threshing, and Elisha is ploughing, when the Lord calls them; Matthew is at the receipt of custom when he is bidden to follow Jesus; and James and John are mending their nets. The almighty Lover of the souls of men is not wont to manifest Himself to idle persons. Не who is slothful and inactive, cannot expect to have the sweet company of his Saviour.


VER the outer coat of plum and apricot there

grows a bloom more beautiful than the fruit itself -a soft, delicate powder that overspreads its rich colours. Now if you strike your hand over that, and it is once gone, it is gone for ever: it only

The flower that appears once. hangs in the morning empearled with dew-arrayed with jewels, -once shake it, so that the beads roll off, and you may sprinkle water over it as you please, yet it can never be made again what it was when the dew fell gently on it from heaven.

On a frosty morning you may see the panes of glass covered with landscapes, mountains, lakes, and trees, blended into a beautiful fantastic picture. Now lay your hand upon the glass, and by the scratch of your finger, or by the warmth of the palm, all the delicate tracery will be obliterated.

So there is in youth a beauty and purity of character, which, when once touched and defiled, can never be restored,- a fringe more delicate than frost-work, which, when torn and broken, will never be repaired. When a young lad or girl leaves the parents' house, with the blessings of a mother's tears still wet upon the cheek, if early purity of character be once lost, it is a loss that can never be made up again. Such is the consequence of crime. Its effect cannot but be in some way felt, though by God's mercy it may be forgiven.

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