not to go away till the lady returned, and for restoring the crown was rewarded with cakes and eight good groschen.

A MOTHER'S INFLUENCE.

Kirby, long the patriarch of English entomology, said, "That to his mother, and to her alone, he did not hesitate to affirm that he was indebted for his taste for natural history." While still a little child she gave him, as his most precious playthings, shells from an old family cabinet. He was exceedingly attracted by their different shapes - and colors, and soon learned to know them every one, and ask for them by their right names; and when a veteran of eightyfour he still showed his friends a little herbarium which with the help of his dear mother he had compiled at nine years of age.

ECONOMY AND CIVILITY.

"Gather up the fragments that nothing be lost" made the fortune of Lafitte the banker. “Well, old fellow, how did you get together all this tin?" said a brusque youth to the wealthy Quaker. "By one article alone, in which thou also mayest deal if thou pleasest-civility,” was the reply.

NOBLE RESOLUTIONS.

Writing to a young friend, says Amos Lawrence: "At the commencement of your journey, take this for your motto, that the difference of going just right or a little wrong will be the difference of finding yourself in good quarters or in a miserable bog or slough at the end of it. Of the whole number educated in the Groton stores for some years before and after myself, no one else, to my knowledge, escaped the bog or slough; and my escape I trace to the simple fact of my having put a restraint upon my appetite. We five boys were in the habit, every forenoon, of making a drink compounded of rum, raisins, etc., with biscuit-all palatable to eat and drink. After being in the store four weeks I found

myself admonished by my appetite of the approach of the hour for indulgence. Thinking the habit might make trouble if allowed to grow stronger, without further apology to my seniors I declined partaking with them. My first resolution was to abstain for a week, and when the week was out, for a month, and then for a year. Finally, I resolved to abstain for the rest of my apprenticeship, which was for five years longer. During that whole period I never drank a spoonful, though I mixed gallons daily for my old master and his customers. I decided not to be a slave to tobacco in any form, though I loved the odor of it then, and even now have in my drawer a superior Havana cigar, given me not long since by a friend, but only to smell at. I have never in my life smoked a cigar; never chewed but one quid, and that was before I was fifteen; and never took an ounce of snuff, though the scented rappee of forty years ago had great charms for me. Now, I say, to this simple fact of starting just right am I indebted, with God's blessing on my labors, for my present position as well as that of the numerous connections sprung up around me."

BEAU BRUMMELL.

In the days of the Regency this celebrated man was much envied, and in the ranks of fashion his influence was paramount. It was not that he was a statesman or a hero, a thinker or a speaker; but, as far as an outside can make it, he was a gentleman. His bow, his gait, his dress, were perfection: the Regent took lessons at his toilette; when peeresses brought out their daughters they awaited with anxiety his verdict, and no party was distinguished from which he withheld his presence. Very poor padding within, heartless and soulless, the usual sawdust which does for a dandy, by infinite painstaking and equal impudence he scrambled into his much-envied ascendancy, the arbiter of taste, the dictator of the drawing-room, the leader of the great army of beaux and butterflies. Then came a cloud.

The prince withdrew his favor, and, of course, the prince's friends. His mysterious wealth suddenly took wing, and means which he took to recover it sent him into life-long exile at Calais and Caen. His god was the sunshine-courtfavor, the smiles of the great and the gay. The instant these were withdrawn the poor Apollo butterfly came fluttering down, down into the dust, and never soared again. It was all in vain that old acquaintances tried to keep him out of debt and discredit. With no gratitude, and with little conscience, and with only that amount of pride which makes the misanthrope, he begged and borrowed on all sides, at the table d'hote glad to get a bottle of wine from some casual tourist by telling stories of old times, and unable to cross the threshold when his only suit of clothes was in process of repair. The broken-down exquisite began to be in want, and, when borrowing a biscuit from a grocer, or a cup of coffee from a kindly hostess, he may have remembered the days when he lavished thousands on folly, the days when he was the favorite guest at the palace. Truly, it was a mighty famine, but it did not bring him to himself. It only alienated from mankind a heart which had all along been estranged from the living God, and gave frightful force to his cynicism. "Madame de St. Ursain," he said to his landlady, "were I to see a man and a dog drowning together in the same pond, and no one was looking on, I would prefer saving the dog.”

RUFUS CHOATE'S WIT.

"There's

When a counsel in a patent case said to him, nothing original in your patent; your client did not come at it naturally," Choate replied, with a half-mirthful, half-scornful look: "What does my brother mean by naturally? Naturally! We don't do anything naturally. Why, naturally a man would walk down Washington street with his pantaloons off!

One day he was interrupted in an argument by a United

States judge, and told that he must not assume that a certain person was in a large business, and had made many enemies —that he was a physician, and not in business. Well, then," replied Choate, instantly, with a merry twinkle of the eye, "he's a physician, and the friends of the people he's killed by his practice are his enemies."

Of one of his female clients he said: "She is a sinnerno, not a sinner, for she is our client; but she is a very disagreeable saint.”

In a railroad case the person injured by the collision of the cars with his wagon, was declared by a witness to have been intoxicated at the time he was driving. When crossexamined, the witness said he knew it, because he leaned over him, and found by his breath that "he had been drinking gin and brandy." Commenting on this testimony, Choate said: "The witness swears he stood by the dying man in his last moments. What was he there for?" he thundered out.

"Was it to administer those assiduities which are ordinarily proffered at the bedside of dying men? Was it to extend to him the consolations of that religion which for eighteen hundred years has comforted the world? No, gentlemen, no! He leans over the departing sufferer; he bends his face nearer and nearer to him-and what does he do?"-(raising his voice to a yet higher key)-"What does he do? Smells gin and brandy!"

Of the bankruptcy of a dry-goods merchant, he said: "So have I heard that the vast possessions of Alexander the Conqueror crumbled away in dying dynasties, in the unequal hands of his weak heirs.' "Oratory and Orators," William Mathews, LL.D.

MELANCHOLY ACTOR.

Carlini was the first comic actor on the stage at Padua; a single glance of his eye would diffuse a smile over the most rigid countenance. A gentleman one morning waited on the first physician in that city, and requested that he would

prescribe for a disease, to which he was not merely subject, but a victim-melancholy. "Melancholy!" repeated the physician, "you must go to the theatre: Carlini will soon dissipate your gloom, and enliven your spirits." "Dear sir," said his patient, seizing the doctor by the hand, " excuse me, I am Carlini himself; at the moment I convulse the audience with laughter, I am a prey of the disease which I came to consult you on."

BUNYAN'S SARCASM.

A Quaker called upon Bunyan in gaol one day, with what he professed to be a message from the Lord. "After searching for thee," said he, "in half the gaols of England, I am glad to have found thee at last." "If the Lord sent thee," said Bunyan, sarcastically, "you would not have needed to take so much trouble to find me out, for He knows that I have been in Bedford gaol these seven years past."

FREDERICK THE GREAT AND THE STUDENT.

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Frederick the Great of Prussia, once met a student of theology in the street, and asked him where he came from. "I am a Berliner," was the reply. "Psha," said the king, "the Berliners are good for nothing." boys who are exceptions to that rule," "Whom?" "Your majesty and myself." him to attend at the palace.

"I know two Berlin said the student. The king desired

"DO ALL THE GOOD YOU CAN."

Dr. N. Murray, the famous " Kirwan" of America, mentions that in his youth he met an old disciple, ninety-one years of age, and in taking leave the venerable pilgrim left with his young friend a charge which he had never forgotten: “Do all the good you can—to all the people you can—in all the ways you can—and as long as you can."