22. The boys entered a corner of the field, in consequence of going round, which they would not have thought of visiting, if they had gone through the meadow. In this corner they found the ground red with ripe strawberries.

23. "I am glad you persuaded me to come round; I should not have thought of coming to this thick spot," said John. 24. " My father says we always fare best when we do right," said Henry.

25. "I believe we ought always to do right," said John, "but I am not sure we always fare the best in consequence. Last Sunday James Simmons went a strawberrying, and got the finest basket of strawberries I ever saw."

26. "I do not think James will think he fared the better for violating the Sabbath, when God reckons with him," said Henry.

27. John made no reply, but said to himself, "I was not thinking of God when I spoke." The reason why we say and do so many things which are wrong is, that we are not thinking of God.

28. John and Henry picked as many strawberries as they wished for, and spent the remainder of the afternoon in play, all the happier for not having been disobedient to their parents.

QUESTIONS. 1. Where did John wish Henry to go? 1. What is said of June? 7. Why did not Henry understand John, when he said there were oceans of strawberries ? 9. What is the consequence of using extravagant language ? 11. What had John's father told him? 13. What did John say when Henry asked him if his father wished him to go through the grass? 18. Is it right to disobey your parents only once? 20. What companions should you choose? 24. When do we fare best? 27. Why do we say and do so many things wrong? 28. How did the boys feel because they obeyed their parents }

LESSON III.

Spell and Define.

1. In-del'i-bly, so as not to be effaced.
1. In'ci-dents, events, occurrences.
3. De-jec'tion, depression of mind.
4. Purchase, to buy.

6. Im'pulse, thought.

6. Al-lure', to entice, to attract. 9. Tarnish-ed, sullied.

0. Re-volv'ing, considering.

10. Con'trast, opposition of things.
11. Spec'ter, apparition, ghost.
12. Di-lem'ma, a difficult alternative.
13. De-tec'tion, discovery of anything
concealed.

18. E-nor'mi-ty, an atrocious crime.
24. Res-ti-tu'tion, a returning of what
was taken.

ERRORS. 1. In'ci-dunts for in'ci-dents; 1. ju've-nyle for ju've-nile; 2. us'yal-ly for us'u-al-ly; 3. chil'durn for children; 3. counter-nance for coun'te-nance; 5. pre-cizely for pre-cisely; 7. clark for clerk; 7. con-tin'er-ed for con-tin'u-ed ; 9. pore for poor; 16. hant'ed for haunt'ed; 20. yis'ter-day for yes'ter-day.

HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.

C. H. FAY.

1. How indelibly are the incidents of our youth enstamped upon our minds! There is one which I vividly remember at this moment, and which I will here relate, not because it affords me any pleasure to do so, but that some of my juvenile readers may be benefited by a lesson from my experi

ence.

2. Mary Seldon was a name once familiar to all the boys in my native city. She kept a little stall near a corner of Central Market, where, day after day, she sat and retailed apples, oranges, cakes, and such other nick-nacks as are usually kept by those of her profession

3. Mary Seldon was a widowed mother, and in a low wooden house, in one of the most secluded lanes of the city, were three little children, that every night, with smiles and kisses, welcomed her home, and feasted upon the fruits of her day's industry. At the close of a cold, raw day in December,"

NOTE. —a December; the twelfth month, so called from the Latin word decem, ten, because it was the tenth month of the Roman year, which began with March.

her sales had been somewhat less than usual, and dejection sat upon her countenance.

4. I was passing her stand, with a dollar in my pocket, which my father had just given me to purchase a pair of skates. Her tempting fruit suggested the thought that I would buy a couple of her oranges, and purchase as good a pair of skates as I could with what money I should have left.

5. I made the purchase, pocketed the change, and passed along, eating my oranges. At length, I came to a hard-ware store, where the skates were to be obtained. I thought I would count my money before I entered the store, that I might know precisely how much I had to expend. To my surprise I found I had a ninepence more than my father had given me !

6. "Where could this ninepence have come from?" Ah, I knew it must have been handed to me, through mistake, by Mary Seldon! I was certain it belonged to her. My first impulse was to return immediately to her stand, acquaint her with her mistake, and hand it back. At this instant, my eye glanced through the shop window upon a handsome pair of skates, that were hung up expressly to allure such eyes as mine.

7. I thought I would just step in, and inquire the price of them. "Six and ninepence," said the clerk. "Six and ninepence!" said I to myself. Why, they would cost all the money I have with me, and part of this belongs to poor Mary Seldon. "They are a beautiful pair of skates, though," I continued.

8. "These skates," said the clerk, “are the best we have in the store; there are none better in the city. Here is a pair," he continued, taking down the same, "not so good nor so handsome as these, which I will sell for one dollar." I looked at them. They certainly were not so highly finished, nor so handsome, as the first pair.

9. In fact, they were roughly made, and the steel was tarnished by several rust spots. The question now arose, "Which pair shall I take? If I take the last, I can pay for them with my own money. If I take the first, I must pay for them, in part, with money that belongs to poor Mary. But then I don't like the other pair.

10. "Besides, who will know that this ninepence belongs to Mary? She will miss it, to be sure, but she will not know that I have got it. No one else will know it." While revolving the question after this manner, the two pairs were held temptingly before me. The last looked so fine in the contrast, that I decided to take it.

11. My conscience revolted at the decision, but I stifled it with the thought that I should have the very best pair of skates in the city. I paid for them, and left the store. Already the image of poor Mary was a haunting specter in my brain. As the specter increased, my fear of the real Mary increased also. I would not have passed her stand that night for the world. My conscience had made me a coward.

12. Just as I was about to enter my home, my mind was suddenly occupied with a dilemma of a most serious nature. My father, I thought, would ask the price of my skates. And what answer should I make? I durst not tell him their real price, for then he would ask me where I obtained the extra ninepence. On the other hand, I hardly durst say that I paid but one dollar for them; for he would know that they must be worth more than that.

13. I at last came to the conclusion, that it would be the safest to tell him that they cost just the sum he gave me. Thus one false step leads on to another. That afternoon I had spent another person's ninepence, and that evening I told an untruth to my father, to prevent a detection of my first

error.

9

14. I had an engagement to go out that evening with a skating party. My companions came for me at the appointed hour. I started with them, but not with so light a heart as I anticipated. My new skates attracted much notice, and were very highly praised. But the encomiums afforded me no pleasure.

ones,

15. I was continually thinking of poor Mary and her little The evening passed heavily with me. My companions would frequently inquire the cause of my sadness. I told them I was unwell. Our party at length broke up, and I returned gladly to my home. I retired to bed, to think and dream, but not to rest or sleep.

16. Far into the night I was haunted with thoughts of poor Mary. I thought of her shivering all day in the cold to earn money to purchase a little food for her hungry children. I imagined her sorrow when at evening she counted her day's receipts, and missed her ninepence. I thought with what a heavy heart she went home to her little ones.

17. How she silently took them on her knee, and, with ́a heart filled with grief and eyes swimming in tears, imprinted kisses upon their cheeks. These, I thought, were nearly all that poor Mary could carry them that night, owing to my dishonesty. During such meditations, my crime gradually magnified before me.

18. I began to see its real enormity. Could I have gone at once to her lonely home, and made amends for my fault, I would have done so. But this I could not do. I had a long, unhappy night to pass ere daylight would conduct me to her abode. Thinking of my wrong, I fell asleep. My dreams were about poor Mary.

19. Morning at length dawned, and my mind was immediately occupied with the question, "Shall I atone for my fault?" I resolved to make atonement, for I would not longer bear the memory of wronging poor Mary out of a ninepence, for all the skates that were ever made. "But