you both long enough, you ought now to carry him." So the father and son alighted, tied together the feet of the animal, swung him on a pole, and thus carried him to market.

Many a heavy burden have I shouldered in the same manner. I don't like to burden my conscience as I often do, but how can I help myself?

I can stand almost anything better than being laughed at or talked about. I am like a pendulum, constantly swinging back and forth-only my oscillations are not regular, and I don't run to turn the machinery of a clock, or of anything else that is useful.

I'm a poor, poor creature. You've no sympathy for me, I am sure, Little Corporal, but 'tis some relief to complain, even if it don't help the matter. Besides, I want you to warn all your boys and girls against the bugbear that has made me what I am-Tom Fearful.

We are sorry that poor Tom has no kind friend to tell him that Jesus our Lord and Saviour has promised in His sacred word that all who ask the Holy Spirit's help to aid them in doing right, and strive to do it, shall succeed. Had he known this great truth we think he would not have "complained" only, but would have resolved, with God's help, to do right in future.-Editor C. O. M.

THESE children seem frightened at the storm, especially the little ones. I must get them to read the following fact, and perhaps on such occasions in future they will remember the lesson it teaches ::

I knew a little boy once that was very much afraid of thunder-storms, and when the lightning

flashed in the window, he would run to a corner of the house and hide his face in his handkerchief; but he loved Jesus; and one day his mother called him from the corner where he had gone during the storm, and said,— "My son, do you love Jesus?"

"Mother, you know I do," was the reply. "Who made the storm and the lightning?" "He did."

"Does He love you?"

"Yes; He died for me."

"Then why are you afraid of the lightning ?" The little boy felt ashamed, and said, "he would never feel afraid again." And he never did. He still lives; and now he delights to sit · at the window during a storm, and, though the lightning may flash in his face, and the thunder shake the house, he thinks of the blood of Jesus given for him, and it takes away all fear. FALKNER.

PUTTING OFF.

"Ir surely cannot matter much;

I'll leave it yet a day,

It's such a very little thing,"

How often do you say!

A little duty still deferred

Will end in "never done;"

And "by and by is time enough"
Has ruined many a one.

BIRD LESSONS.

I AM sitting in a large room which has three windows. In each of these windows hangs a cage, and in each cage sits a bird. All three are canaries, but all three are not alike. In the middle window hangs an old-fashioned cage, and in it sits a very old bird, of a dark green colour,-one would almost think he was brown. On his right, in a cage smartly painted, white and green, is a pretty little yellow birdie,-true canary colour, with long, slender legs, and bright, bead-like eyes. In the other window, in a cage more substantial-looking, there is a fine fellow, both green and yellow, at this moment singing me a song as loudly and as sweetly as it is possible for a canary to sing. Every morning I give my pets a bath. The little things flutter into it with such delight; how they do enjoy it! They love to be clean, and if any morning I omit to prepare their bath, they will attempt a wash in the water which is placed for their drinking. After the bathing they sing so merrily, and seem so happy. This morning, whilst sitting in the room at work, and watching them fluttering in and out of the water, I could not help thinking of the text which says, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." Not only our bodies need washing daily, but our hearts also. Every day some sin