no attention to their mother's request.

She had several times desired them to go to the field for their father, who was a farmer, but neither of them stirred a step.

"Ye'll go, I know, my dear," said Mrs. MacClarty, addressing herself to the younger; "O ay, I know ye'll go, like a good girl, Jean."

Jean looked at her sister and said, "What's to hinder Meg to go? She has as good a right to go

as me."

"Go you, then, Meg, and tell your father that Mr. Stewart wishes to see him;" said the fond but foolish mother.

"No; make Jean go. She was told first," was the reply of the lazy sister.

Mrs. MacClarty was ashamed of the small respect paid to her wishes by her too much indulged children, and in order to excuse them, stated" that indeed they never liked to leave her, poor things! they were so bashful; but in time they would do well enough."

They will never do well if they disobey their mother," said Mr. Stewart; "you ought to teach your children to obey you, for their sakes as well as for your own. Take my word for it, that if you don't, they as well as you will suffer by it. daresay it may be better that I should go out to the field myself and see how the farmer's work goes on."

But I

Mrs. MacClarty, glad of his proposal, went to the door to show the way. Mr. Stewart, pointing to a pool of dirty water at the very door step, asked her

why her husband did not fetch some stones from the quarry close by, and fill it up? "People," said he, "who are far from stones and gravel may have some excuse; but you have them within your reach, and by half a day's labour you could have your doors made clean and comfortable. How then have you gone on so long in this condition?" Indeed, sir," answered Mrs. MacClarty, "the entrance might have been mended many a time, but we always put off. We just couldn't be fashed."

'And cannot you be fashed to go to the end of the house to throw out your dirty water? Don't you see how a small drain would carry it down to the river, instead of lying here to stagnate, and cause an unwholesome smell.”

"Oh we are just used to it," said Mrs. MacClarty, "and we never mind. We couldn't be fashed to go so far every time we throw out dirty water."

"But what," returned Mr. Stewart, "will Mrs. Mason think of all this dirt? She has been used to see things in a very different order; and if you will be advised by her, she will put you upon such a method of doing every thing about your house, as will soon make it look so tidy as to greatly increase your health and pleasure."

"Ay," said Mrs. MacClarty, "I always feared she would be too nice for us, she has so many outlandish notions. But we are too old to learn, and we just do well enough."

And so Mrs. MacClarty refused to learn to be cleanly. The disobedience of her children at last

brought ruin on her and on her husband, and the dirt brought disease and death.—Cottagers of Glenburnie,

DICTATION.

Two, too, to; dear, deer; some, sum.

Supply the words omitted:-I have | hunter shot a feet. The load is

heavy. Go
The

QUESTIONS.

Tell me the

of these figures. We have bread.

What had Mrs. MacClarty's children | obey her? When the girls would not never been trained to? How old were go for their father, what did Mr. Meg and Jean? What did they pay no Stewart say he would do? What did attention to? What had their mother Mr. Stewart see when going out at the desired them to do? Which was first door? What did he say her husband asked? What did she say? When Jean should do with the pool of dirty water? would not go, what did Mrs. MacClarty What did Mrs. MacClarty answer? say to Meg? What did Meg say? How What did Mr. Stewart say about the did Mrs. MacClarty excuse her daugh- dirty water? What did Mrs. MacClarty ters? What did Mr. Stewart say about answer? What did the disobedience of them? What did he say Mrs. Mac- her children at last bring on Mrs. Clarty should do? What did he say MacClarty and her husband? What would happen if she did not make them did the dirt bring on them all?

XI.-WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY.

It is an old proverb that "Truth is to be found at the bottom of a well," meaning, that before truth can be found we must go to the very bottom of the matter on hand.

WE have faith in old proverbs full surely,
For wisdom has traced what they tell;
And Truth may be drawn up as purely
From them as it may from "a well."
Let us question the thinkers and doers,
And hear what they honestly say,

And

you 'll find they believe like bold wooers In "Where there's a will there's a way."

WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY.

The hills have been high for man's mounting,
The woods have been dense for his axe;
The stars have been thick for his counting;
The sands have been broad for his tracks;
The sea has been deep for his diving;

The world has been wide for his sway;
But bravely he's proved in his striving
That "Where there's a will there's a way."

Have ye vices that ask a destroyer,
Or passions that need your control?
Let reason become your employer,

And your body be ruled by your soul.
Fight on, though you bleed in the battle,
Resist with all strength that you may;
Ye will conquer sin's host like brute cattle,
For "Where there's a will there's a way."

Have ye poverty's pinching to cope with?
Does suffering weigh down your might?
Only call up a spirit to hope with,

And dawn will come out of the night.
Oh! much can be done by defying
The ghosts of despair and dismay;

And much will be gained by relying

On "Where there's a will there's a way."

DICTATION.

Eliza Cook.

29

Weigh, way; might, mite; full, fool; hear, here; high, hie soul, sole.

of water. Do you me speak? The tree once stood I have seen a steeple. He must away home. The never dies. He hurt the of his foot.

Supply the words omitted in-glass is Please a pound of sugar for me. This is the longest. Many a grows in old cheese. You give This man is a

me some.

The

QUESTIONS.

What have we faith in? What has wisdom traced? What may be drawn up from old proverbs? What do the thinkers and doers believe in? What should your body be ruled by? What

will you conquer sin's host like? When under poverty and suffering, what should you call up? How will much be done? How will much be gained?

IN December, 1871, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, lay smitten by a dreadful fever. For many days the shadow of death seemed to fall across his bed, and, hour by hour, those who stood around expected that the flickering spark of life would be quenched, as had been that of his father-the good Prince Consort a few years before. Day by day the people of London were in dread expectation that the boom of the great bell of St. Paul's Cathedral would announce that the Prince was dead. Day by day, in every town in Britain, men waited eagerly for the telegrams which told how the fierce struggle between life and death was going on; and as they read the daily messages they seemed to see that sick-bed, and those who watched around it.

Of all the loving watchers, after the Queenmother herself, there was none to whom all hearts went out in warmer love than to the noble wife of the sick Prince. She was brave and steadfast, scarcely ever leaving his bedside. On that memorable Sabbath-day, when prayer was made for him in all the churches of the land, the Princess stole away for a brief space to church, and sent a simple and touching request to the clergyman that, as she