I love to speak of God, of heaven, And all its purity ;

the gate of his father's house. The next moment the child's

face grew red with terror, and he dashed the lilac to the ground, shrieking, "It stings! it stings!"

What made it sting? It was a bright, beautiful and sweetsmelling flower. How could it hurt the child's hand? I will tell you.

A merry little bee, in search of a dinner, had just pushed his nose in among the lilac blossoms, and was sucking the nectar from it most heartily when Sammy's eager grasp disturbed him; so being vexed with the child he stung him.

home

to be hurt.

Sammy's mother washed the wound with hartshorn; and when the pain was gone, she said, "Sammy, my dear, let this teach you that many pretty things have very sharp stings."

Let every child take note of this:-Many pretty things have very sharp stings; it may save them from being stung if they keep this truth in mind.

Sin often makes itself appear very attractive. A boy once

went to a circus because the horses were handsome and their riders gay; but he learned bad

habits there, and thus that pretty thing-the circus-stung him.

A girl once took a luscious pear from a basket and ate it. "Have you eaten one?" asked her mother, pleasantly.

Fearing she would not get another if she said, "Yes," she wickedly replied, "No." She got another pear, but felt so stung that she could not sleep.

Thus you see that sin, however pleasant it looks, stings, and that sharply. It stings fatally: the Bible says, "The sting of death is sin." Never forget that "many pretty things have very sharp stings," and be careful how you touch them.

GRANDPAPA'S BIRTHDAY

WISH.

WO old men sat in the shade of a chestnut-tree one hot summer's noon. Their hair was white and their faces wrinkled; they had but little strength left, and their figures were bent and feeble. They talked, as they sat, of old times; for they had always lived in the same village, and had known one another for sixty years or more. While

they talked a fine boy of ten years old, with rich brown hair and a bright rosy colour, came springing up to them, and, out of breath with play and laughter, sat down at their feet. He was the grandson of one of the old men, and a happy, joyous child he was.

"It is my birthday, grandpapa," said the boy; "I have so many presents! a top, and a ball, and some books."

His grandpapa looked sadly at the child, and said, “I hope you will grow up a wise and good man, Arthur, and a happier man than I have been.”

"Why, grandpapa?" asked the boy.

"I did not remember my Creator when I was young, my boy. I was always putting it off till another day; and, when my friend here used to say that youth was the best time to think of God, and to give my heart to Him, I would reply there is time enough yet; and I forgot God, in whose hands my life was. Then came the cares of business, and I seemed to have no time. I had to work for my living, to toil all the long days, and sometimes at night, in my counting-room at my books, and I found it difficult then to think of God. At last I became

very ill; God took away the health for which I had never thanked Him, and the strength which I thought was all my own. But in illness, and during nights of pain and bitter suffering, I found I could not think of God, nor study my Bible, which I had neglected, nor learn of Jesus, whom I had not obeyed. God raised me up again, however; but then I had other sorrows and cares, and still appeared to have no time for religion. I have at last, I hope, given my heart fully to God; but how sad is the thought to me that I have nothing but a poor world-weary heart to offer!"

The boy looked grave: his grandpapa went on, "It is an easy yoke that Christ bids us take; is it not, friend Gray?"

"It is, indeed!" said the other old man with a smile. "Bear this in mind, dear boy, that while serving God in youth saves us from many sorrows, it does not take away from us

one real pleasure. Don't let your birthday pass away without at least a prayer that God would help you to remember Him now in the days of your youth."

SMALL BEGINNINGS.

HERE was once a New
England lad named
Erastus B. Bigelow,

who began life very poor. But the boy had a talent for work, and was ingenious and industrious. A good old farmer used to pat the little fellow on the head, and ask him, jokingly, to come over to his place and learn to be a farmer.

The lad believed that "business was business," and turned the offer over and over in his mind. At length he decided to accept it, and obtaining consent at home, he walked away to the farm-house in perfect confidence in the farmer's word. Mr. T, though a good deal surprised at his arrival, set the boy to work, expecting that he would change his mind before night, and trot off home. But the child performed faithfully his tasks, and was delighted with all around him, especially a pet lamb named "Dolly," which he took a great fancy to. "Dolly" would follow him about his work, and the boy had always a caress for her.

At last, when Saturday night came, Erastus ventured to suggest that they should make some arrangements about his

merry twinkle in his eye, asked the child his terms. The lad had made up his mind. He offered to work for Mr. T- six months if he would give him "Dolly" at the end of that time. This moderate demand was accepted, and the boy worked diligently for his beloved pet. But by-and-by a trouble arose in his mind: he would be like the man who won an elephant in a lottery. What could he do with the lamb ? How could he feed it after he took it away from the farm? The thought of this difficulty gave the child many anxious hours, and the workmen on the place rather enjoyed than sought to lessen his perplexity.

The farmer suggested that he should give up Dolly," and take a stout pair of cow-hide boots, and sheep's-gray cloth for a suit of clothes, in place of her. The little fellow wisely accepted the proposal, though not without many a tug at his heart-strings. After his six months were up, he had proved so useful, that he was hired for the season, at a dollar a week and board. The farmer gave him also a bright silver dollar when he left him, and these first earnings were the

TRUTHFULNESS.

WO country lads came at an early hour to a market town, and, arranging their little stands, sat down to wait for customers. One was furnished with fruits and vegetables of the boy's own raising, and the other was supplied with clams and fish. The market hours passed along, and each young merchant saw with pleasure his stock steadily decreasing, and an equivalent in silver and copper pieces lying in his money-cup. The last melon lay on Harry's stand, when a gentleman came by, and placing his hand upon it, said: "What a fine, large melon! What do you ask for it, my boy?"

"The melon is the last I have, Sir; but though it looks very fair, there is an unsound spot in it," said the lad, turning it over.

"So there is," said the man; "I think I will not take it. But," he added, looking into the youth's fine, open countenance,