have every reason to believe you can easily pay, and you should make a rule of paying back a certain part of your debt every year, and, above all, never incur a new debt till you have paid off the old one.




Master. I once knew two journeymen who were about equally good workmen, and received the same wages. They were both steady men; but Richard never thought of saving, but spent all his spare money in little indulgences, which were not wrong in themselves, but which he might have done very well without. So when he married, which he did in the course a few years, he was no better off than when he began work as a journeyman. He found his wages, which had been more than enough for him as a single man, were a rather scanty allowance for him, his wife, and his children. When sickness came he was obliged to run into debt for the common necessaries of life; and it often took him many months after the sickness was over before he could pay these debts. However, as he had generally very good health, and was an honest, hard-working man, he managed to get on tolerably well; but he had often many hardships to encounter, and never rose above what he was at first. I do not know what would have become of him when he was old and unfit for work (for he had saved nothing), had not one of his sons, who had got on very well in the world, made his father an allowance in his old age. The other journeyman, William, went on a different plan. He was extremely

careful for the first few years; he used regularly to lay by a certain part of his wages; besides this, when once he had got a little fund in the savings' bank, he was often able to add a few shillings to his stock by denying himself some little indulgence. At the end of five or six years, he had money enough to start for himself, and shortly after he married; but he was still very careful, and strove hard to replace the money which he had laid out in establishing himself. In this way he managed always to have a little sum of money in the bank to provide against accidents. His family and himself had their share of sickness; but he belonged to a medical club, and that saved him a heavy doctor's bill. In times of sickness he would draw some of his money from the bank, and so when health was restored he was free from debt. He had once a heavy loss by an employer becoming bankrupt, and then the money he had in the bank was invaluable. He was able with it to conclude the purchase of a quantity of timber, which he could only have had for ready money, and which he had calculated upon paying for with the sum which the bankrupt owed him. This purchase turned out remarkably well; for he was able by means of it to undertake a very profitable contract, and at the end of two more years he was comparatively a rich man. Having more capital, he enlarged his business, and was able to find money to start each of his sons in a good business; and when he became old, he had enough for himself and his wife to live comfortably upon in a house of his own building.

Harry. But will not all this saving and prudence in money matters be likely to make me a miser?

Master. A miser is one who never uses his money. My plan is quite the opposite to this. It is your duty to be careful and prudent, but you must not set your heart upon riches; you must be ready to help those poorer than yourself. "He that giveth unto the poor lendeth to the Lord."

You must be willing to assist your near relatives. Above all, your parents, if they need it, have a claim for the utmost help you can afford. God's blessing will not be upon your labours if you neglect those whom He commands you to love and cherish. Even if riches increase, happiness will not follow; and what is a man profited "if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" William, of whom I have just spoken, was a good example in this respect. His aged father lived and died under his roof, and was not the less cared for because William had a large family to support. Besides this, William was very kind to his poorer neighbours, and did not refuse his little aid when the minister of the parish was collecting money to assist in converting the heathen, or in sending out clergymen to poor emigrants in distant colonies. Richard, to do him justice, was not unwilling to give, and in his earlier days did many a little act of charity; but after his marriage, he had, as we have seen, enough to do to support his family, and as he never had money in hand, he never seemed to have it in his power to do anything for others. You need not be illiberal because you are careful and saving; but if you are thoughtless and imprudent, you will never have anything to give.



BETWIXT her shaking panniers' load
A farmer's wife to market rode,
And, jogging on, with thoughtful care,
Summ'd up the profits of her ware;
When starting from her silver dream,
Thus far and wide was heard her scream.
"That raven on yon' left-hand oak
(I hear his mischief-making croak!)
Bodes me no good." No more she said,
When poor blind Ball, with stumbling tread,
Fell down; o'erturn'd the pannier lay,
And her mash'd eggs bestrew'd the way.
She, sprawling in the road, preferred *
Her loud complaint. "Unlucky bird,
Now ill betidet thy croaking throat!
I knew misfortune in the note."

"Dame," quoth the raven, "spare your railing,
Nor spend your time in useless wailing;
Why are on me reproaches thrown?
Goody, the fault was all your own;
For, had you laid this brittle ware
On Dun, the old sure-footed mare,
Though all the ravens of the hundred
With croaking had your tongue out-thundered,
Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs,

And you, good woman, sav'd your eggs.”—Gay. *Preferred.] Put forth. † Ill betide.] May evil happen to.



HAVE you ever thought how many useful things are made out of the earth which we walk

upon? All



cups and saucers, the dishes and basins, which we use every day, are made out of the clay and the flintstones that we tread under our feet. These useful things have one common name--earthenware; and I am going to tell you something about the making of them.

First of all, the flints must be burned in a kiln; coals are laid between the flint-stones, and the heap is set fire to. When the flints come out of the kiln, they are pounded with heavy irons, wetted and ground into powder. In the meantime, the clay has also been mixed with water and ground very fine, and now the flint and clay are mixed up together into a smooth liquid-if it is meant for fine ware it is as smooth and soft as cream. This liquid is called slip; it is poured into a flat open oven, and heated until it is tough and can be well kneaded.

Then the potter takes it in hand with his wheel. A potter's wheel is a low stand, with a flat board on the top, which is made to turn round very fast. The potter puts a lump of clay large enough to make a cup, basin, or jug, on his board. He dips his hands in water, and then, while the board and the clay spin round together, he presses and squeezes the clay till he has squeezed out every little bubble of air from it. Then he begins to hollow out the lump, and with his thumbs inside and his fingers outside, he smooths and shapes it, within and without, to the right shape and thickness. You could hardly believe how quickly this is done, unless you were to see the potter at work. The things which he has shaped upon his wheel are next given to a turner to finish them off, and make them smoother still. He turns

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