So you see how you are to live. Come, come along what is the matter with you?"

"No," replied the Wolf, "I beg your pardon. Keep your happiness all to yourself.

Liberty is the word with me, and I would not be a king upon the terms you mention."

The lowliest condition of life with freedom may be better than the showiest position with slavery.

1. Without snow or rain, the seeds from which the flowers and the fruits of the summer spring up would perish and never do any good; and this is cause enough to make all good children contented, though the bad weather should sometimes keep them at home.

2. The sea moans, and sinks back, leaving the shore dry; and then comes in from the offing a mighty wall of water, as high as, or higher than, many a tall house; sweeps far inland, washing away quays and houses, and carrying great ships in with it; and then sweeps back again, leaving the ships high and dry.

UNGKA was a playful animal, and sometimes, when he could not find a human playfellow, he would try to make companions of some small monkeys that were on board the same ship. He was too big and black for them, however, and they united together for the purpose of driving him away.

Ungka, thus repelled in his kind endeavours to

establish something like sociality amongst them, determined in his own mind to annoy and punish them for their impudence.

So the next time that they united, as before, in a body on his approach, he watched the opportunity, and, when one was off his guard, seized a rope, and, swinging towards him, caught him by the tail and hauled away upon it, much to the annoyance of the owner, who had no idea that such a retaliation was to take place. He continued pulling on it as if determined to detach it, until the agility and desperation of the monkey at being so treated obliged him to relinquish his hold.

But it not unfrequently happened that he made his way up the rigging, dragging the monkey after him, and thus made him follow his course most unwillingly. If in his ascent he required both hands, he would pass the tail of his captive into the prehensile palm of his feet.

It was the most grotesque scene imaginable, and will long remain in the remembrance of those who witnessed it.

It was performed by Ungka with the most perfect gravity of countenance, while the poor suffering monkey grinned, chattered, and twisted about, making the most strenuous efforts to escape from his opponent's grasp.

When the poor beast had been dragged some distance up the rigging, Ungka, tired of his labour, would suddenly let go his hold of the

tail, when it would require some skill on the part of the monkey to seize a rope in order to prevent his receiving a compound fracture by a rapid descent on deck.

Ungka, having himself no tail, knew well that he was perfectly free from any retaliation on the part of his opponent.

After this the small monkeys had a consultation, and agreed that whenever Ungka assaulted any one of them, they should all unite in attacking him.

Having acquired a taste for tail-pulling, and finding it unsafe to attack the monkeys, Ungka took to pulling the tail of the ship's pig, trying, but in vain, to straighten it.

As we read the words we can almost see the dark and deadly deep spread over the world; we can hear the thunder roll; we can feel the sudden stir; we can mark the mountain tops solemnly rising into the light, and the rush and dash of the floods as they are shaken from the mountain sides.

STORY OF JAMES V. OF SCOTLAND.

UPON one occasion King James V. of Scotland, being alone and in disguise, fell into a quarrel with some gipsies, or other vagrants, and was assaulted by four or five of them.

This chanced to be very near the bridge of Cramond; so the King got on the bridge, which, as it was high and narrow, enabled him to defend himself with his sword against the number of persons by whom he was attacked.

There was a poor man thrashing corn in a barn hard by, who came out on hearing the noise of the scuffle, and, seeing one man defending himself against numbers, gallantly took the King's part with his flail, to such good purpose that the gipsies were obliged to fly.

The husbandman then took the King into the barn, brought him a towel and water to wash the blood from his face and hands, and finally walked with him a little way towards Edinburgh, in case he should be again attacked.

On the way the King asked his companion what and who he was. The labourer answered that his name was John Howieson, and that he was a bondsman on the farm of Braehead, near Cramond, which belonged to the King of Scotland.

James then asked the poor man if there was any wish in the world which he would particularly desire should be gratified; and honest John con