return, try to console her; she had a cause for grief which they did not know; she often thought of the lie which she had told, and the terrible words, "All liars shall have their part in the lake," always returned to her mind at the same time. Only for the loss of her cat, it is too probable she would have soon forgotten this sin, while enjoying the pleasure of playing with Beauty; but lonesome and sad as she felt now, the thought of it made her very unhappy.

Ellen was one day sent to play in the lawn, but instead of running about as she used to do, and pulling primroses and daisies, she walked slowly along the path; for when people feel that they have done wrong they cannot be happy. She observed a little girl, not much older than herself, going towards the house with a small basket in her hand. This child looked very healthy, with her eyes sparkling, and when, in a few minutes, she returned with her basket empty she tripped along over the grass, singing; and if her voice was not so sweet as that of the birds on the hedge close by, it was just as merry. "What makes you so happy ?" said Ellen. "Everything, miss, said the little girl, whose name was Judith. “I have just sold the eggs that my own_hen laid: why should I not be happy?" "I suppose you are very good and never told a lie," Ellen replied. The child's look became more serious, and she said, "Oh, miss! I am not good, though I wish and try to be so; I am sorry to say that I have sometimes been so wicked as to tell a lie, though I trust I shall never do so any more." "Do you know that all liars will be punished by God?" "Oh, miss! have you not

heard that our Lord Jesus Christ is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him?' He will save us, if we repent and come to him. He is very kind to children, and said "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not.”” “I did know these things once; but now I have no one to tell me about them. Who teaches you ?" My teacher at the Sunday school, miss; a very kind lady." Oh, how I wish some one would teach me," cried poor little Ellen.

66

66

Ellen told Judith, when she had any more eggs to sell, to bring them to her papa's house, and that her nurse she knew would buy them. From this time Judith often called with her little basket of eggs; and Ellen would ask her about her hens and herducks, and also of the bees in her father's garden, which made nice honey. One day, Ellen asked her nurse to let her visit the farm-house where Judith lived, and nurse said she would walk there, along with the two little girls. On their way Judith told them how she managed her fowls, and that her mother allowed her to spend some of the money which she got for their eggs. "I have this day one shilling," she said, "and am so glad, for I owe it to a very cruel boy whom I once saw with some others hunting a poor cat. It lay on the grass in father's field as if it were dead, and I went to look at it, and saw that it was still breathing; so I took it up to try and bring it back to life, but this boy saw me. He said he

wanted the skin, and that it was his cat, and I should not touch it unless I bought it from him. I pitied the poor thing very much, and at last he said he would let me have it if I would pay

him one shilling. He agreed to wait till I had made all this money with my eggs, so I took the cat home and nursed her till she got well. You cannot think, Miss Ellen, how fond she is of me. When we get near the house she will run to meet me; and this day I can pay the cruel boy, and she will be quite my own, for he often threatens to take her from me, and hunt her again." Just then they entered the little yard before the house, and out ran a white cat to meet them; but she did not run to Judith. "Beauty! Beauty! my own dear Beauty!" eried Ellen; and to her the cat ran-mewing, and purring, and rubbing her snow-white fur to the delighted little girl, to whom Judith gladly gave the possession of her.

Ellen returned home a very happy little girl, with her favourite in her arms; and I am glad to say that she thought much of what Judith said to her about the Saviour of sinners.

LEAP YEAR.

IF you look at an almanack for the present year, you may see printed on its title-page the words "Leap year. Perhaps you have known before that every fourth year is a leap year, and that it contains one day more (February 29th) than a common year. But possibly you do not understand why it is so called.

A year is designed to include the exact period of time that the earth takes to move round the sun; or, as it is more commonly called, "the apparent revolution of the sun round the earth.' This takes 365 days and nearly six hours. But, as the calendar or almanack must

consist of complete days, the six hours are omitted in an ordinary year. Of course, in four years these six hours would make up a complete day. Hence, in every fourth year, that day is added to the month of February, giving twenty-nine days to the month, which in other years has only twenty-eight; and thus leap year consists of 366 days.

This arrangement of the calendar was made by Julius Cæsar, (before the birth of Christ,) and is called after him, the Julian Calendar. The year in which the additional day was inserted was called Bissextile, (from bis, twice, and sextus, sixth,) because what was then called "the sixth of the kalends of March," or the 24th of February, was repeated, or inserted twice in the calendar. The origin of our term "leap year," is said to be this. If in an ordinary year of 365 days, (as in the year 1851,) the first day of March comes on Saturday; in the next year, if it were a common year, March would begin on Sunday. But the year 1852 is a leap year, and February will have twentynine days, which will bring the 1st of March on Monday. Thus, instead of stepping from Saturday to Sunday, "it leaps to Monday." This is the account given by learned men; and yet it is hard to tell what leaps, for there has been no omission of any day of the week. The added day in February has only taken (as it ought) the name of what would have been the first day of March, and left to it the name of the next day of the week in the regular order of time. So there is no leaping, but the same regular step at which time has always moved

on.

C.

THE FIRST RIPE EARS.

How lovely appears the first nosegay we gather from the garden in the spring-time of the year! How welcome are the first ripe fruits we pluck from the trees; or the first sheaf of wheat brought in from the fields! But how far more lovely are the early days of youth when devoted to the Lord.

In the days when the Jews dwelt in their own land, the first and best ripe ears of wheat, and the first and best grapes from the vine, were carried up to the temple with great rejoicings. At a day fixed on, the people of the villages formed into little companies, and then