with the red cheeks and delicate down. The father distributed them among the four boys, and gave one to the mother.

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In the evening, as the children were going to their bed-chamber, the father asked, "Well, how have you relished the apples ?" Excellently, dear father," said the eldest; "it is a nice kind of fruit, so sweet and so soft to the taste. I have carefully preserved the stone, and will rear for myself a tree from it." "Bravo!" said the father, "that is displaying a prudent carefulness for culture as becomes a farmer."

"I directly ate up mine," said the youngest, "and threw away the stone, and mother gave me half of hers. O! it tastes so sweetly, and melts away in one's mouth." "Well," said the father, "thou hast not, indeed, displayed much prudence, yet thou hast acted very naturally and child-like. Life will afford sufficient opportunity for the exercise of prudence."

Then the second son began-"I took up the stone which my little brother threw away, and beat it open. It contained a kernel which tasted as sweetly

as a nut.

But I sold my own peach, and obtained as much money for it as will purchase twelve when I go to the city." His father shook his head, and said, “That, indeed, displays prudence, but it is anything but natural and childlike. May heaven preserve thee from becoming a sordid merchant!"

"And thou, Edmund ?" asked the father. Frankly and openly Edmund answered,-"I took my peach to George, our neighbour's son, who has the fever and, as he would not take it, I laid it down on the bed beside him, and came away. "Well!" said the father, "who now has made the best use of his peach ?" All the three exclaimed, "It is brother Edmund !"-But Edmund was silent, and his mother kissed him with a tear in her eye.

THE SELFISH BOY.

Ir is a hateful sight to see a little boy living among brothers and sisters and caring for no one but himself. If there is anything nice for dinner, he is sure to want more than his share; if there is any fruit, he must have the best and the most; and he grudges any one a morsel of pudding or pie as so much taken from him. He does not care who wants if he can but have plenty. If he has any sweetmeats he will eat them by himself rather than share them with others. If he sees his playfellows with anything he likes, he envies them their treat, and longs to have it all for himself. He does not care about the little ragged boys that he sees every day, nor has he a wish to help them. If he has a cheerful fire to sit by he does not care who is without one; if he has a warm dress, it matters not to him who is naked and shivering; and if he has an abundance of good food to eat he does not care who

starves.

Such, little reader, is the picture of a selfish boy. I hope it is not like you. If it is, I am sure your brothers, and sisters, and companions, cannot love you. If you grow up to be a selfish man, you will be a curse to yourself and society: your fellowcreatures will shun you, and God himself will be angry with you, for God hates selfishness. But I hope the picture is not like you, and that you have a warm and generous heart, and an open hand, and that you are liberal to your little friends. If you have a blazing fire to sit by, and a warm bed to lie on, pity those who have not these comforts, and be anxious for the pleasure and interest of others as well as your own.

Jesus Christ has taught us, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," and "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself." If you grow up a

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selfish man, then how can you hope to reach heaven? If you would please God, obtain the approbation of good men, serve Jesus Christ, or live with God for ever-you must not be selfish. J. B. W.

A SWARM OF FLYS.
FLY from self, and fly from sin;
Fly the world's tumultuous din;
Fly its pleasures, fly its cares;
Fly its friendships, fly its snares;
Fly the sinner's hast'ning doom;
Fly and 'scape the wrath to come;
Fly to Jesus, he's the road
Through which alone we fly to God;
Fly to mercy's gracious seat;
Fly 'tis sorrow's last retreat;
Fly and bear your sin and grief;
Fly and you shall find relief;
Fly and let your wings be love;
Fly and stretch your flight above;
Or fly, by dread of vengeance driv'n,
Fly from hell and fly to heaven.

A SWARM OF BEES IN A NEW HIVE.

Be quiet-more ready to hear than to speak;
Be active-true riches unceasingly seek;
Be patient-Jehovah's good pleasure endure;
Be humble-and so shall your path be secure;
Be prayerful-make known your requests unto God;
Be watchful-for satan is ever abroad;

Be hopeful-and never give way to despair;
Be loving-and shew whose disciples you are;
Be gentle and prove that your wisdom's divine;
Be merciful-always to pity incline;

Be gracious-more willing to give than receive;
Be just as you would not have others deceive;
Be upright-and thus your profession adorn;
Be kind-and treat no fellow-creature with scorn;

Be simple from sophistry ever abstain;
Be diligent-if you would substance obtain;
Be circumspect-think how your conduct is eye'd;
Be meek-and beware of presumption and pride;
Be lowly in heart-for the Saviour was so ;

Be long suff'ring-like Him when he sojourned below;
Be not unbelieving-but trust and adore,

And God's grace be with you henceforth evermore !
J. S. HARVey.

A NEW ZEALAND BOY.

A LITTLE boy, writes one of the missionaries of New Zealand, died lately in a very pleasing and rejoicing frame of mind. He was laid on the bed of suffering for several months; and during the whole time I attended on him, I never heard him complain. One day, shortly before his death, I called in to see him; and in answer to a question which I put, he said, "I have one trial; when I pray to God, my heart seems as hard as a stone, and I find that satan tries to hinder me." I said, "I hope you do not leave off praying, because you find that satan tries to hinder you." Oh! no," he said; "I pray very often: my sins are many: I want to have them washed away. I have been a very great sinner against a most gracious God: he is very kind to me." At another time he said, in answer to my inquiry: "Longing to depart, and to be with Christ." I asked him if he were in much pain, "Yes," he replied, "I am in great pain, and the people who live with us are so noisy, that I am obliged to lie out of doors. But then, you know, Jesus Christ suffered a great deal more than this for my sins: my pain is nothing compared with his. His love is very great to me, and I love him very much. I am sure he has blotted out my sins, and I long to sing his praises in heaven, and live with him." I remarked, "and what pleasure you will feel, if through your death, your parents should be led to the knowledge of the truth as

it is in Jesus; I am afraid they are very careless now." "Yes," he replied, "I shall never regret these pains if it does. Sometimes I lie awake all night, and converse with my Saviour; and my heart is so filled with light, and is so glad! I wish my parents were thoughtful; it would comfort me much if they were." This dear little fellow was just in the same state of mind when I saw him but a few hours before his death. I went to see him on the day he was buried; and as I looked on his poor worn out body, I felt much encouraged to proceed in my labours.

A WEST INDIAN NEGRO.

The following is a narrative of a conversation between the Rev. Mr. Burchell, Baptist Missionary, of Montego Bay, and a dying negro :

Calling on this poor man one day, when he was very ill, I said—

Well, my friend, do you think God unkind for afflicting you so severely?

Nay, massa.

Dont you feel sometimes disposed to complain?
No, pray to God not to let me.

What makes you feel resigned?

Me know God do no wrong; him know what is best; him do best.

Have you ever felt sorry for coming to Christ? Oh, no; me feel sorry me no come before; me too glad to hear of Jesus Christ.

How do you feel in the prospect of death?
Me feel happy.

What makes you happy?

De love of Christ.

Do you think your prayers will take you to heaven?

No, no.

But do you not expect to go there, because you are