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do nothing but bathe and wash the people in the Union."

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But, my boy, how is 2s. 6d. a week to pay us, and so many of you to feed, and bread one penny dearer this very day ?"

"Mother, I've been thinking I could take a place every day after school; I believe farmer Smith would give me ls. or 1s. 6d. a week if I go there at four o'clock of a day to drive up the cows for milking and feed the pigs. wouldn't cost more than that and the 2s 6d."

Willie

"My boy, what can I say? At church this morning we heard about doing good to others hoping for nothing again, and if you really will work for him, I will try and persuade your father." And she succeeded, as good wives generally do.

So George had the pleasure of going to fetch Willie. At first, he could not believe it; but when once out of the iron enclosure he clapped his hands and danced like a child, while the workhouse people thought the Randalls must be as silly as poor Willie to take charge of him. And yet they were not hard or cruel people, but he had been brought there in such dirt and rags that they quite believed he was the idiot he seemed; and having hundreds under their care, they had not time to look after him, or to see what degree of sense was left in him.

To find himself an object of care and attention, was so new to poor Willie that it seemed to melt away in some degree the fog that was over his mind. He began to feel the greatest confidence in the Randalls,

and to believe that every word they said was right, and everything they ordered must be done. If Mrs. Randall told him to watch the baby when asleep, the Queen of England herself could not have made him stir till she came back. Even George's lightest orders were obeyed; so he was able to take him with him to the farmer's, where his love of animals and his kindness to them, soon made him really useful, and his idea of the necessity of strict obedience to any commands from the Randalls made him dependable, as it is called.

A valuable horse of Smith's was very ill; the farmer had sat up with it himself one night, and the next, gave it into the charge of his head man. Willie begged to stay with him, and the man said, "Well, you'll be no good, but still you'll be company, so you may stay." George told him, as long as the man kept awake, not to speak, nor to do anything, but should the man be sleepy or queer, he was to call his master; for George knew the man was given to drink, and generally kept a bottle of gin within reach. Sure enough, it being a cold night, he first offered some to Willie, who answered, "Thank you, sir, Mr. Randall does not allow me to drink spirits." "You are Silly Willie still; there's all the more for me.” And he made so free with his bottle that he fell into a drunken sleep, while the poor horse was in agonies, for the want of the soothing remedies that ought to have been given. Then Willie remembered his orders, and called the farmer, who discharged the man, and gave Willie half a sovereign, (the first bit of money he had ever

touched in his life), for saving his favourite horse by his watchfulness and obedience. And the more poor Willie was trusted, and the more kindly he was treated, the faster grew his mind; so that in two or three years, he needed not George to work for him, for he could get his own livelihood.

Now what do you think of those boys whose treatment had a great share in making that poor boy foolish for life? What do you think they deserved? I do not believe they meant to be as terribly cruel as they really were. They were thoughtless. In that respect, worse than Willie; for they did not use the sense that God had given them, and for which they were accountable. Many children, but chiefly boys, seem to have immense pleasure in showing their power over defenceless creatures. How would they like armed men to amuse themselves by hunting them like hares, or by laughing at them and ridiculing them? And yet they have all been taught to do unto others as they would others should do unto them. They have all read of Him whose name they bear if they are Christians, who went about doing good, relieving every sorrow, and touched with the feeling of our infirmities.

THE PRIMROSE.

Он, yellow primrose, pale and fair,
How pretty and how sweet you are!
And yet how low you hide your head
In those soft leaves that round you spread!

I would not lift your humble face
To prouder seat or lordly place:
Such modest charms would fade away
In stormy wind and burning ray.

Your little life were happier sped
Within your calm and shady bed,
And purer thence your odour rise,
Oh, yellow primrose, to the skies!

DROWNING. *

Ben. Oh, mother, what a jolly day! such a hard frost, and it is Saturday-a whole holiday! I am going to slide on the farm pond, and Pat Maloney has promised to teach me to skate, and will lend me his skates, just to learn.

Mother. Oh, dear me! do you think the ice will bear? there was no frost till yesterday.

Ben. To be sure it will bear: it is as hard as iron. We shall have awful fun.

Mother. Stop, Ben; I shall be frightened to let you go on the ice unless father says you may. Run to Jervis's, where he's at work I believe, and ask him.

Ben. All right; only I know he will say I may. I'll bet you anything he will.

Mother. Oh, don't go to bet, pray; I can't bear betting.

Whenever any bad grammar occurs in these dialogues, the class should be invited to correct it, and to state the reasons for such corrections.

Mrs. Thompson. Oh, Mrs. Jones, make hastethey've brought word your Ben is drowned in the farm pond; they've told me to fetch you.

Mrs. Jones. Oh, what ever was father about to let him go! What ever is to be done? Oh, for pity's sake hold my baby for me; I must run.

Mrs. Thompson. My good woman, don't take on so; perhaps it isn't true, or perhaps he will come to. Hope the best.

Mrs. Thompson. Do step in, Mrs. Smith; I'm so upset. Here's Ben Jones gone and got drowned; what ever is to be done? his mother is gone distracted. She's run to fetch him home.

Mrs. Smith. Oh, he mayn't be quite dead, and there's a many ways people have of bringing them to again. I've heard my grandmother say, and she was a very aged person, and very experienced, that rolling a drowned person in a cask, their heels a little higher than their head, is a wonderful cure. You see it fetches the water out of them.

Mrs. Thompson. Indeed! Where ever could one get a cask? We have a waterbutt. Should we get it ready, do you think? Poor thing! his mother is so upset, and she mayn't have the thought. Oh, see! here she is, and poor Ben too, carried home in a clothes-basket.

Mrs. Jones. Oh, what ever is to be done? Oh, if father were but at home! I've sent and sent; why ever don't he come? But the dear boy is gone! no sense in him! Oh, what shall I do?

Mrs. Smith. Here, my good woman, compose your

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