for himself, and a canoe to go a-fishing in, and a fishing-rod and hooks and lines, and also darts, and a bow and arrows for hunting, besides tilling a little land perhaps. Such people are all much worse off than the poor among us. Their clothing is nothing more than coarse mats or raw hides; their cabins are no better than pig-sties; their canoes are only hollow trees, or baskets made of bark, and all their tools are clumsy. When every man does every thing for himself, every thing is badly done; and a few hundreds of these savages will be half starved in a country which would maintain ten times as many thousands of us in much greater comfort.

There is also much useful exchange among different nations, which we call commerce. All countries will not produce the same things; but, by means of exchange, each country may enjoy all the produce of all others. Cotton would not grow here, except in a hot-house; it grows in the fields in America, but the Americans cannot spin and weave it so cheaply as we can, because we have more skill and better machines; it answers best, therefore, for them to send us the cotton wool, and they take in exchange part of the

I cotton made into cloth; and thus, both we and they are best supplied. Tea, again, comes from I China, and sugar from the West Indies. Neither of them could be raised here without a hot-house; no more can oranges, which come from Portugal. But we get all these things in exchange for knives, and scissors, and cloth, which we can make much better and cheaper than the Chinese, West Indians, or Portuguese; and so both parties are better off than if they made every thing at home.

How useful water is for commerce! The sea seems to keep different countries separate; but, for the purpose of commerce, it rather brings them together. If there were only land between this country and America, we should have no cotton; for the carriage of it would cost more than it is worth. Think how many horses would be wanted to draw such a load as comes in one ship; and then they must eat and rest while they were travelling. But the winds are the horses which carry the ship along, and they cost us nothing but to spread a sail. Then, too, the ship moves easily, because it floats on the water, instead of dragging on the ground like a waggon. For this reason, we have canals in many places, for the purpose of bringing goods by water. One or two horses can easily draw a barge along a canal with a load which twice as many could not move if it were on the ground.

What folly, as well as sin, it is, for different nations to be jealous of one another, instead of trading together peaceably, by which all would be richer and better off. But the best gifts of God are given in vain to those who are perverse.

To walk betimes in Wisdom's way;
To fear a lie, to speak the truth,
That we may trust to all they say.

But liars we can never trust,

Tho' they should speak the thing that's true, And he that does one fault at first,

And lies to hide it, makes it two.

"I hope my boy is doing well at school?" said old John Casey to Mr. Brown, the schoolmaster, who was sitting on a bench, outside his door, one fine afternoon, having just dismissed his little flock for the day. He laid down his book, on hearing the old man's question, and paused a moment before he answered it. "Why, as to his progress in reading and writing," said he, "I have no reason to find fault with your grandson: George is a clever boy, and he is not often idle." "I am afraid, though," said John, "from your way of speaking, that you are not satisfied with him." "My good friend," said the schoolmaster, "there are, as you know, far greater faults than idleness at lessons; and you cannot, I think, be ignorant of the habit which George has of saying what is

not true, upon every occasion; I cannot, indeed, rely upon a word he says." Old John shook his head, and sighed deeply as Mr. Brown spoke; "I am very sorry, sir, for what you tell me; I had hoped that George had cured himself of this fault. I have seen but little of him lately, because he has been at school nearly all day; however, I will talk to him this evening, though I fear nothing I can say will have much effect, since he does not listen to you, who know so much better how to teach him his duty."

While his grandfather was talking with the schoolmaster, George was amusing himself with some young companions, in a field, at some distance from the village. They were searching the hedges for blackberries, but it was early in the season, and they could not find many. "I know where we might get plenty," said one of the boys, "only we must cross farmer Mulvany's corn field to get to the place." "Oh! that does not matter," cried George, "the corn is all in sheaves, we shall not hurt it, and besides, farmer Mulvany will not see us. "Oh! fie, George," said Ned (the boy who had first spoken), "if it is wrong to go into the field at all, the farmer's seeing us or not makes no difference. God sees us every where, you know. I am very sorry I put it into your head to go, am sure it is wrong." But George was already half through the hedge, and two of the boys followed him; the three others stayed behind with Ned. George and his companions were rather startled to see what a large gap they had made in the hedge, but they thought it would be a pity to turn back, now they had got so far, therefore, they

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began to run across the field as fast as they could. to In their hurry, they knocked down some of the o sheaves of corn; but on they went without stop-pur ping, till they reached the hedge on the opposite side, where the blackberries grew. "Here are plenty," cried George, "I am glad we came.' "But look there," interrupted one of the boys, ng "is not that the farmer himself coming this way?" They all looked, and saw the farmer coming towards them at a brisk pace, with a stick in his hand. The three boys ran different ways; two st of them leaped over the hedge, and got safely into the lane on the other side, but the third, who was and George, found himself caught by a bramble; hee pulled and struggled violently, but only succeeded in scratching his face and tearing his clothes. At last, by one strong effort he freed himself, but it was too late; the farmer stood before him,and seizing his arm to prevent him from escaping, he said, in no very gentle voice, "What did you come here for?" "Oh! sir,” replied George, "my mother sent me on an errand to the lady at the great house, and as I was coming back, I saw those cows in the next field-they had got in here, sir, the gate being left open, and I ran to drive them out." to "Then it was the cows that threw down the sheaves, yonder?" "Yes, sir," said the wicked boy. "But then," said the farmer, looking steadfastly at George, "why were you running away, and what were the other boys doing? I thought I saw three of you." "I was afraid, sir, you would be angry at finding me in your field.” "What! angry with you for saving my corn?" said the farmer, shaking his head, for George's

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