by their courtesy and civility, the goodwill of their neighbours.

Their resignation was something more than passive, however; in the midst of their own trials they found time to feel for the wants of others. The ignorance of the children who came to their shop attracted their notice; and Mary and Jane Ellis, after a consultation with their mamma, resolved to attempt to open what had hitherto been a novelty in the town of N--, a Sunday-school. Funds were wanting, but on this emergency an appeal to Mrs. Blewitt readily suggested itself. It was decided accordingly that the young ladies should wait upon their friend, and explain to her the plan of operations.

Mrs. Blewitt occupied a handsome house, at the best end of the town. The girls were shown into a spacious drawingroom; and presently their friend entered in a fashionable morning dress. "Good morning, my dears," was her salutation, are papa and mamma quite well today? I was thinking of paying them a visit, but fear I cannot just now, as I am suffering from a most distressing headache." "Then ma'am," said Mary, "I am afraid it will fatigue you to listen to us to-day. We can come to you some other time." "Oh, no, my dear, your company will amuse me-pray tell me what I can do for you."

Thus encouraged, Mary Ellis, in a modest sensible manner, explained the strong desire felt by herself and her sisters to do something for the temporal and spiritual welfare of the poor neglected little ones who filled the streets of N-, and concluded by requesting Mrs. Blewitt's advice and assistance.

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Really, my dear," said that lady, applying a perfumed cambric handkerchief to her face, "it would be very desirable to educate and reform these poor creatures if the undertaking were not so difficult and unpleasant. But you can scarcely fancy how vicious in their minds, and squalid in their persons, these children taken from the streets and lanes will prove, and how disagreeable you will find it to be brought into contact with them." Mary recollected who it Iwas that sent His servants into the "streets and lanes," for the purpose of bringing in "the poor;" but she did not give utterance to a thought which might seem intended to reprove a person so much her senior; so she answered, "Oh, ma'am, my sisters and I are very fond of

children, and would like greatly to instruct even the poorest, if we could only collect them."

"But have you considered how great the expense and trouble of conducting a daily school would prove?"

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Yes, ma'am, Jane and I have been talking it over with mamma; and she thinks that on the whole it would be better for us to commence with a Sundayschool; and then, if it should please God to bless the undertaking, we might perhaps afterwards establish a daily school."

"I am quite of your mother's opinion," said Mrs. Blewitt, "and shall be glad to assist in so laudable an undertaking. Now," she continued gaily, "let us resolve ourselves into a commit

tee of ways and means.'

A good long confidential talk on any subject whatsoever was what Mrs. Blewitt dearly loved, and she enjoyed it on the present occasion. The result of their deliberations may be briefly stated. A large unoccupied room over a store was to be hired for a trifling sum, which Mrs. Blewitt promised to pay; and further engaged to act as superintendent of the school, whenever her serious headaches would permit her to encounter the fatigue. The three girls, and Mrs. Ellis, were to go to the school immediately after church on Sundays, and teach as many poor children as they could during the week persuade to attend. Blewitt kindly promised that the room should be ready and furnished with forms on the ensuing sabbath, while the girls engaged to muster a detachment of the tattered juveniles of N

Mrs.

As they were walking towards home, they saw a group of children playing at the corner of a dirty lane. These little ones were barefooted, and half naked, yet they seemed full of joy and animation. Just as Mary and Jane were passing, one of the boys gave another an accidental push, which threw him down, and made him roar lustily. Mary stooped to raise him up, and said, "What is your name, little fellow?"

"Mickey Walsh, miss," said the boy who had thrown him down, "he's son to the widdy at the corner house." At that moment Mrs. Walsh herself ran out to see what mischance had befallen Mickey, and was going to take summary vengeance on the boy who had pushed him, when Mary gently interposed, and assured the mother that her little boy's fall was accidental.

"I humbly beg your pardon, miss," said Mrs. Walsh, smoothing her apron, "I'm sure 't is very good of the like of you to stop and look after such little gossoons" the Irish name for boys.

Mary thought this an excellent opportunity of bringing forward her favourite project, and found no difficulty in inducing the widow Walsh to promise that not only Mickey, but his two brothers and three sisters should attend on the following Sunday afternoon at the appointed place. A miscellaneous collection of Jims, Billies, Jerries, Betties, and Joanies, promised also to be there; and our young friends returned home with happy hearts and smiling faces to relate to their parents and sister the history of their expedition.

Young people are always pleased with a new undertaking. Too often, indeed, they pursue it at first with great ardour and diligence, and after a time become weary in well-doing. But this most usually happens when right principles are not firmly fixed in the mind, and when coldness in action results from the gradual dying away of excited enthusiasm. But the Ellis family acted on the steadfast principles of Christian faith; they counted the cost of their undertaking, they did not view it through a rose-coloured medium, or fancy that the task of instructing and reclaiming a number of poor little ignorant sinful children could be accomplished without much patience, perseverance, and, above all, a firm but humble trust in the Divine assistance.

Next Sunday, at the appointed time, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, and their daughters, met Mrs. Blewitt at the store which had been fitted up as a school-house. It was a large, lofty, but unceiled room, lighted by a row of long narrow windows, and furnished with several benches for the pupils, and a few chairs for the teachers. They found about twenty ragged little ones assembled; whose bare, muddy feet left palpable traces of their progress across the newly-washed floor. "Would you like, Mrs. Blewitt," said Mrs. Ellis, addressing her friend, "to examine the children, and arrange them in classes?"

Ah," replied that lady, taking out her vinaigrette, "really, my dear friend, I could not trust my poor nerves to come in contact with such miserable, dirty little creatures; I am certain I should have a violent headache directly. But

you are accustomed to visit charityschools, and not so easily affected by their inconveniences as I am; so perhaps you will kindly take on you the arrangement of the classes." This speech caused Mrs. Ellis to look grave; but without making any remark, she divided the boys from the girls; and asking her husband to undertake the examination of the former, began with the latter herself. She sat down opposite a row of ten or twelve little creatures, intelligent and bright-looking despite of their rags and dirt.

Their ignorance of the simplest elements of religion was deplorable. Many of them could repeat the "Hail Mary,' and said that the virgin was the Mother of God, but they knew not who Jesus was, nor why he had died on the cross.

It was no difficult task, however, for one so pious and so fond of children as Mrs. Ellis, to rivet the attention and excite the interest of the little immortal beings before her. Irish children are usually very quick-witted; and before this their first hour of instruction was ended, many of them had acquired some knowledge of the elements of Christianity. Mary, Jane, and Sarah listened alternately to their father's and mother's instructions with great interest and attention: knowing that on the ensuing sabbath they would each have to commence the teaching of a class. Mrs. Blewitt also listened for a while, then yawned, lounged towards a window, and continued looking out, until summoned to join in the simple earnest prayer which Mr. Ellis offered up in conclusion.

On next Sunday the number of pupils was much increased, and Mrs. Ellis divided them into classes according to their age; for as to attainments they were all nearly equally deficient. Mr. Ellis taught the elder boys, and Mary the little ones, while her mother and sisters divided the girls between them. They had all been teaching for some time before Mrs. Blewitt came in. At length she made her appearance, splendidly dressed, and sat down for a few minutes; then rising and approaching Mrs. Ellis, she said with a smile, "Really I feel quite a supernumerary here-can you do without my surveillance for the remainder of the hour?

"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Ellis, "of course, if you do not wish to remain, we will do the best we can in your absence; but certainly the presence of the super

Mrs. Blewitt blushed slightly. "When the school increases," she said, "and the weather becomes decidedly cool, I hope to be a pattern of regularity in my attendance; but just for the present, I really think you can go on with these little classes very comfortably yourselves. I shall look in on you as often as I can, but do not reckon on my coming regularly." And with a graceful wave of her perfumed handkerchief, and a bend of the plume that adorned her purple-velvet bonnet, the lady made her exit.

The school did increase greatly; the hot days of summer and the cold ones of winter came in their turn, and passed away, yet Mrs. Blewitt's visits to the school became less and less frequent. The Ellis family had more pupils to instruct than they could possibly have managed; were it not for the timely and valuable assistance of a few pious neighbours, their work would have been too overwhelming for them. They persevered, however; and in addition to higher motives, found the happy results which invariably follow self-denying efforts. In the midst of their labours for others, they forgot their own troubles and anxieties.

As for Mrs. Blewitt, sometimes when any visitor at her house expressed a desire to see every thing worthy of notice in the town, she would say:

"After church, next Sunday, I shall take you to see my school; it is so nice, and the children are coming on so well. But you cannot think the trouble we have had in getting them into order; at first they were so wretchedly untidy and untaught." A great reformation had undoubtedly been effected in the exterior of the once ragged pupils, and it was managed on this wise: Mrs. Blewitt had given a liberal donation of gingham, flannel, grey calico, and coarse cloth, and then took no further trouble respecting the disposal of these materials. The Ellises and their young friends had no silver nor gold, but such as they had they gave. They made up the clothes for the children, and added considerably to the stock by the produce of fancy work, which they made at their leisure moments, and sent to be sold at a bazaar in the next large town. Thus all the trouble fell on the young people, while Mrs. Blewitt was not ashamed to receive

that which cost her no self-denial.

About six months after the establishment of the school, a very fashionable family, named Harmer, came to reside in Mrs. Blewitt's immediate neighbourhood. She visited them; and as they did not find many congenial spirits in the town, they speedily became very intimate with her. Mrs. Blewitt had many good impulses, but very little steadiness of principle or fixity of purpose. She suffered herself without resistance to be led away by those whom she knew to be "lovers of pleasure, more than lovers of God." When Mrs. and Miss Harmer, accordingly, told her that Sunday-schools were unfashionable things, only fit for ancient goodies and tradesmens' daughters, their fickle auditor blushed, and hoped in her own mind that her new acquaintances would not discover how ridiculously intimate she had allowed herself to be with a family now actually keeping a shop. The results of these feelings, however, must be reserved for our next chapter.

THE WHITE WOLF.

DENSE masses of buffaloes darken the plains of the far west, and numerous bands of wolves hover round the outskirts of the vast herds, singling out the sick and wounded animals, and preying upon such calves as the rifles and arrows of the hunters had bereaved of their mothers. The white wolf is the invariable attendant upon the buffalo; and when one of these persevering animals is seen, it is a certain sign that buffaloes are not far distant. Besides the buffalo wolf, there are four distinct varieties common to the plains, and all, more or less, attendant upon the buffalo. These are the black, the gray, the brown, and the last and least the coyote, or cayente of the mountaineers, the "wach-unka-manet," "medicine wolf" of the Indians, who hold the latter animal in reverential awe. This little wolf, whose fur is of great thickness and beauty, is of diminutive size, but wonderfully sagacious, making up by cunning what it wants in physical strength. In bands of from three to thirty, they not unfrequently station themselves along the " runs of the deer and the antelope, extending their lines for many miles; and the quarry being started, each wolf follows in pursuit until

or

tired, when it relinquishes the chase to another relay, following slowly after until the animal is fairly run down, when all hurry to the spot, and speedily consume the carcass. The cayente, however, is often made a tool of by his larger brethren; unless, indeed, he acts from motives of spontaneous charity. When a hunter has slaughtered game, and is in the act of butchering, these little wolves sit patiently at a short distance from the scene of operations, while at a more respectful one the larger wolves (the white or gray) lope hungrily around, licking their chaps in hungry expectation. Not unfrequently the hunter throws a piece of meat towards the smaller one, who seizes it immediately, and runs off with the morsel in his mouth. Before he gets many yards with his prize, the large wolf pounces with a growl upon him, and the cayente, dropping the meat, returns to her former position, and will continue his charitable act as long as the hunter pleases to supply him.

Wolves are so common on the plains and in the mountains, that the hunter never cares to throw away a charge of ammunition upon them, although the ravenous animals are a constant source of annoyance to him,-creeping to the camp-fire at night, and gnawing his saddles and apishamores, eating the skin ropes which secure the horses and mules to their pickets, and even their very saddles, and not unfrequently killing or entirely disabling the animals them selves.

Round the camp, during the night, the cayente keeps unremitting watch, and the traveller not unfrequently starts from his bed with affright, as the mournful and unearthly chiding of the wolf breaks suddenly upon his ear; the long-drawn howl being taken up by others of the band, until it dies away in the distance, or some straggler passing within hearing answers to the note, and howls as he lopes away.-The Far West.

shore on the island of Juan Fernandez, as a punishment for mutiny. In that solitude he remained four years and four months, from which he was at last relieved and brought to England by captain Woods Rogers. He had with him on the island his clothes and bedding, with a firelock, some powder, bullets, and tobacco; a hatchet, knife, kettle, his mathematical instruments, and a Bible. He built two huts of pimentotrees, and covered them with long grass, and in a short time lined them with skins of goats, which he killed with his musket, so long as his powder lasted (which at first was but a pound); when that was spent, he caught them by speed of foot. Having learned to produce fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together, he dressed his victuals in one of his huts, and slept in the other, which was at some distance from his kitchen. A multitude of rats disturbed his repose, by gnawing his feet and various parts of his body, which induced him to feed a number of cats for his protection. In a short time these became so tame that they would lie about him in hundreds, and soon delivered him from his enemies, the rats. Upon his return, he declared to his friends that nothing gave him so much uneasiness as the thought, that when he died his body would be devoured by those very cats he had with so much care tamed and fed. To divert his mind from such melancholy thoughts, he would sometimes dance and sing among his kids and goats, at other times retire to devotion. His clothes and shoes were soon worn out by running through the woods: in the want of shoes he found little inconvenience, as the soles of his feet became so hard that he could run every where without difficulty. As to clothes, he made himself a coat and cap out of goat-skins, sewed them with thongs of the same, cut into proper form with a knife: his only needle was a nail. When his knife was worn to the back, he made others, as well as he could, of some iron hoops that had been left on shore, by beating them thin, and grinding them on stones. By his long seclusion from intercourse with men, he had so far forgot the use of speech, that the people on board of captain Rogers's ship could scarcely understand him; for he seemed to speak his words by halves. The chest and musket which Selkirk had with him on the island are now in possession of his grand-nephew, John Selkirk, weaver at Largo.-Sir John Sinclair's Account of Scotland.

ANCIENT ARTILLERY.

THE progress of science, so clearly traceable in the aids which it has given to the prolongation of human life, is also visible, with painful precision, in modern times, in the improvements which it has effected in those engines framed by mankind for their mutual destruction. Between the ancient catapulta and balista, and the modern cannon and Congreve rocket, there is an interval quite as great as between the slow travelling conveyances of the last century, and the rapid

express train of our own days. Peaceful as are the habits of our readers, it will be interesting to them for a little to cast the eye backwards, and to glance at the rude mode in which "war without gunpowder," as it has been contemptuously termed by military critics, was carried on; the more especially as some passages in Scripture receive illustrations from the subject.

"The earliest precise mention of artillery," says Mr. Wilkinson, to whose work on the engines of war the reader may be profitably referred, "is in 2 Chron. xxvi. 15, where we are told that Uzziah, who