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Englishman, who knows how his forefathers fought and suffered to gain the liberties which he enjoys, ought never to sell those liberties--never to exchange “ his birthright for a mess of pottage.”

CADDIS WORMS. What are they?

Look on the soft, muddy bottom of a stream, you see numberless bits of stick.' Watch awhile, and those sticks are alive, crawling and turning over each other. The weed, too, is full of smaller ones. Those live sticks are the larva cases of the caperers (Phryganec)-of which one family nearly two hundred species have been already found in Great Britain. Fish up one, and you find, amid sticks and pebbles, a comfortable silk case, tenanted by a goodly grub. Six legs he has, like all insects, and tufts of white horns on each ring of his abdomen, which are his gills. And goodly jaws he has, too, and does good service with them, for he is the great water-scavenger. Decaying vegetable matter is his food, and with those jaws he can bark a dead stick as neatly as you with a penknife. But he does not refuse animal matter. A dead brother (his, not yours,) makes a savoury meal for him; and a party of those Vorticello would stand a poor chance if he came across them. You may count these caddis baits by hundreds of thousands. See ! Here is one whose house is closed at both ends. The grub has stopped the mouth of his case by an open network of silk, defended by small pebbles, through which the water may pass freely while he changes into his nymph state. Open the case ; you find within not a grub, but a strange bird-beaked creature, with long legs, and horns laid flat by its sides, and miniature wings on its back. Observe that the sides of the tail, and one pair of legs, are fringed with dark hairs. After a fortnight's rest in this prison, this “ nymph” will gnaw her way out, and swim through the water on her back, by means of that fringed tail and paddles, till she reaches the bank for upper air. There, under the genial light of day, her skin will burst, and a fourwinged fly emerge to buzz over the water as a fawn-coloured caperer-deadliest of trout-flies, if she be not snapped up beforehand, under water, by some spotted monarch in search of supper. -Kingsley's Miscellanies.

LITTLE CHILDREN.

BY THE REV. JAMES KXAPTON.

Oh, I love you, little children, wheresoever ye may be, -
In the close and crowded city, or with joyous step and free,
Tripping lightly o'er the meadow, in the open country dear,
To the softly-flowing streamlet, as the crystal sparkling clear,
Or the sweetly-scented heather, where a merry group are ye,
Oh, I love you, little children, wheresoever ye may be!
Be ye children of the lowly, be your faces pale and thin,--
The storm without, though fierce, less wild than the angry storm

within ;Or in princely palace dwell ye, with the beautiful and fair, Meeting cloud and darkness seldom, breathing sunshine everywhere ; In the valley”-on the mountain-or the gently-sloping lea, Oh, I love you, little children, wheresoever ye may be! And as life, with all its changes, glideth silently away, I

pray that God may keep your feet in the right and perfect way; By His secret arm sustain you, by His sacred presence cheer ; -Till joyfully ye all, at length, in His courts above appear, And range eternity's wide worlds, from all earthly thraldom free ;Oh, I love you, little children, wheresoever ye may be ! I love you-aye so tenderly, that in trial's darkest hour, Of all this earth can give, dears, I deem you the richest dower ; With your arms entwined around me, and the music of your voice Attune their harps to grief who may,-yet I cannot but rejoice; And though your faces all, 'tis true, in life I ne’er shall see.Oh, I love you, little children, wheresoever ye may be ! God bless you all! my little ones, and when time's fierce throes are

past, Send forth His angels fair, to lift you to His throne at last; That home of priceless wealth and bliss, where the “many mansions"

are, For heaven would be no heaven to me, were not little children there ; Give you His help in weal and woe, and His perfect truth to see, Oh, I love you, little children, wheresoever ye may be!

There is a flower that cannot fade,

That no rude blast can chill;
It blossoms in the sheltered shade,

Or on the bleakest hill.
And every changing form of time

Moves on, and sees it in its prime;
Affection is this lovely lower.

Garland of the Heart.

NEVER WASTE BREAD !

use.

AN ANECDOTE OF 1745.

“My father, said she, was a tenant of the good but unfortunate Lord Pitsliss. It was in the spring of the year '45, immediately after the defeat of the Prince's army at Culloden, and when the gentlemen out upon that unfortunate occasion, and many of the commons, too, were hiding for their lives, and I, then a very young woman, was left in charge of the house, my father and all the servants being engaged at their seed time, and my mother, who was delicate, being not yet out of bed.

“ I was busy preparing breakfast, when a very old, infirm man came to the door, and, in the humblest manner, requested to be allowed to warm himself by the fire. He was trembling from cold, and I not only requested him to enter, but hastened to place a chair for him, and make the fire warmer for his

After sitting for some time, he asked if I could give him a little bread and milk, and I immediately brought some, and placed the milk on the fire to take the chill off it.

“ As I gave him the bread, a small morsel fell on the floor, and I reached with my foot to put it out of the way among the ashes, when the old man immediately stopped me.

Do not do that,' said he, trembling with cold and emotion, 'never waste bread ! The time has been that I have given gold for a handful of bannock* kneaded in a soldier's bonnet. They that waste bread may fear that they shall one day come to want it;' and, as he said this, he stooped down and picked up the crumb I had dropped, and cleaning it on his bosom, and looking upward, put it reverently in his mouth. I saw, as he stretched forth his hand, that it was fair as a lady's, and that his linen, though coarse, was clean; and, as soon as I could, without alarming him, I asked if I could serve him in anything further, as I thought I heard my mother call.

“I went to her, securing the outer door in passing, for I feared he might be some person in trouble, and told her what I had seen.

She immediately sprung up to dress herself, requesting me to stay where I was, and, in a few minutes, she was in the kitchen, closing the door after her. As I imme

6

* Meal and Water.

diately heard her sobbing, I ventured to peep through the keyhole, when I saw my mother on her knees at the old man's feet, and bathing his hands in her tears. It was Lord Pitsliss.

“After many sufferings from age and illness, and hairbreadth escapes in many disguises, and from living often in holes, where scarcely a wild creature could have lived, he had drawn toward his own estates, to live the short period he might be allowed to live, or die among his own people ; knowing that, if they could not save him, at least he might have their sympathy.

“He had been driven from a cave in the neighbourhood, where he had taken shelter. He was soon after conveyed to Auchirios, where he lived long, and, after many escapes, at last died in peace. Everybody in the neighbourhood knew of his residence. The very children would go and

peep through the chinks of the garden-door, as he sat reading, but they never breathed his name.

“The farm on which was one of his places of refuge, is called the farm of the Lord's cairn,' to this day, and will never be named, without reminding us of the cause ; nor shall I ever forget the lesson he taught me e Never to waste bread.'"- Christian Inquirer.

The praises of others may be of use in teaching us, not what we are, but what we ought to be.-Guesses at Truth.

The mind is like a trunk. If well packed, it holds almost anything; if ill packed, next to nothing.

Few persons have courage enough to appear as good as they really are.

Then haste thee, Time, 'tis kindness all

That speeds thy winged feet so fast;
Thy pleasures stay not till they pall

,
And all thy pains are quickly past :
Thou fliest and bear'st away our woes,

And as thy shadowy trains depart,
The memory of sorrow grows

A lighter burden on the heart.

Bryant.

REVIEW AND INTELLIGENCE. The Sunday Scholar's Catechism of the Old Testament, with

Poetical Selections, by the Rev. D. Griffiths. (London: Whitfield.) In this Catechism are various poems illustrating the history of the Old Testament, and calculated to awaken the mind to appreciate the beautiful narratives of the Hebrew Scriptures. The arrangement of the matter is such as to enable children to refer without difficulty to the different parts of the Bible, and so to enter, with more zeal and earnestness, into the services of the House of Prayer. Its adaptation to its purpose was proved by the result of a recent examination in its lessons at the Abbey Chapel, at Tavistock.

Spring : a Poem, by Goodwyn Barmby.

The old story of “ Eyes and No Eyes” shows how much more one person can see in nature than another. The poet or the painter are often able to open the eyes of other people to facts and beauties which had escaped their notice. This poem on Spring, by Mr. Barmby, will help many to use their eyes and enjoy nature better than before.

SCHOLARS' CERTIFICATES.-Certificates of merit have recently been given to two scholars who had attended for upwards of six years at the Carter Lane Chapel Sunday School, London. This is a simple and very excellent way of securing and rewarding regularity of attendance and good behaviour on the part of the scholars. The plan has been some time adopted in day schools under Government inspection, and such certificates will be very valuable to boys and girls, when seeking a settlement in life, as a testimonial to their character. Such a certificate may perhaps best be given in the shape of a good, useful BIBLE. This plan has, for many years, been adopted in the Wollaston Road Sunday School, at Stourbridge; and the old scholars, even when married, point with pleasure to the Bibles, proving their regular attendance, as children, at the school. A story is told of an orphan lad, seeking an engagement as cabin-boy at Liverpool, who, when asked for a recommendation from some one who knew him, said he could show none but the Bible given him on leaving his Sunday School. The inscription on the title-page was read by the captain, who declared that no other testimonial was necessary, and gave him a berth directly. Such certificates will prevent scholars running from school to school, and help to keep them at chapel when they grow up.

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