was not seven years old; but she had often seen her father light the lamp, and she thought that she could do it, and that she ought to do it.

11. So she fixed it as she had seen her father do, and then struck a match, and lighted the wick. She felt quite proud when she saw the light shedding its rays over the rough waters. She then gave the dog and the kitten their suppers, and took her own and said her prayers, and lay down to rest.

12. But she could not sleep, for thinking of the storm, and the dan'gers to which the poor sail'ors were ex-posed. She looked out, and saw that there was a thick fog over the water, and she feared that it might hide the light of the light'house from the sailors.

13. So she rose, and went and pulled the fog-bell which was used to make the sailors hear when they could not see. She would pull it for a min'ute, and then rest; and she did this till the fog was blown away, and the bright stars shone out in the sky. Then she lay down on her little bed, and went to sleep.

14. All this while her father had been very anx'ious about her. He wanted to set sail from the town in the midst of the storm, but his friends would not let him do it. How glad he was when he saw the bright light stream forth from the lighthouse, telling him that Ellen was safe, and had known what to do! And when he heard the bell, he said she was a brave little girl.

15. Early in the morning he set sail for the isl'and. The storm was over. He went up in'to

Ellen's little room, and waked her with a kiss. It was a joy'ful meeting.

1. IN little Annie's garden

Grew all sorts of posies:

There were pinks, and mign-o-nette,"

And tulips, and roses.

2. Sweet peas, and morning glories,
A bed of vi'o-lets blue,

And mări-golds, and as'ters
In Annie's garden grew.

3. There the bees went for honey;
There the birds sipped the dew;
And there the pretty but'ter-flies
And the lady-birds flew.

4. And there among her flowers,

Every bright and pleasant day,
In her own pretty garden,

Little Annie went to play.

5. She would sit and watch the but'ter-flies,
The robins and the flowers;

And would thank our Heavenly Father
For the soft, warm sum'mer hours.

1. "SIT up-right! sit up-right, my son!" said a lady to her son George, who had formed a wretch'ed hab'it of bending whenever he sat down to read. His mother had told him that he could not breathe healthful-ly unless he sat upright. But it was no use; bend over he would, in spite of all his mother could say.

2. "Sit upright, George!" cried his teacher, as George bent over his copy-book at school. "If you don't sit upright, you will ruin your health, and possibly die of some com-plaint of the lungs."

3. This startled Master George. He did not wish to die, and he felt alarmed. So, after school, he said to his teacher," Please, sir, ex-plain to me how bending over, when I sit, can cause me to have some complaint of the lungs.'

EI

4. "That I will, George," replied his teacher. "There is an el'e-ment in the air called ox'y-gen, which is nec'es-sa-ry to make your blood cir'cu-late, and to help it to purify itself by throwing off what is called its car'bon.

5. "When you stoop you cannot take in a quan'ti-ty of air suf-fi-cient to ac-com'plish these purposes: hence the blood remains bad, and the air-cells in your lungs become ir'ri-tat-ed. Pres'ent-ly the lungs inflame. The cough comes on.

6. "Next the lungs ul'cer-ate, and then you suffer, and perhaps die. Give the lungs room to inspire plenty of fresh air, and you will not be injured by study. Do you understand the matter now, George?" 7. "I think I do, sir, and I will try to sit upright hereafter," said George. George was right in his res-o-lu'tion. Will all the boys and girls who read this story im'i-tate him?

8. They will, I know, if they wish to live healthy lives. Make it your mot'to, therefore, my little reader, to sit upright, whether you sit to eat, to sew, to read, or to converse. Now, don't forget it. must sit upright.

1. THOUGH the old man has long been blind,

.. And his few locks are gray",

He loves to feel the summer wind

About his fore'head play.

2. We'll lead him to some quiet place,

Some un-fre-quent'ed nook.

You

Where winds breathe soft, and wild-flowers grace

The borders of the brook.

3. There he shall sit as in a dream,

Though naught he can be-hold;

- it shall seem

And the brook's mur'mur,
The voice of friends of old.

XCII.

THE STORY OF SOME HOT WATER. (6, 33-8, 43, 77, 110, 126, 212, 220, 260, 272, 309, 316.)

1. THE story of some hot water is one of the most won'der-ful of stories. About two hun'dred years ago a man bearing the title of the Marquis of Worcester," was sitting, on a cold night, in a small, mean room, be-fore a blazing fire.