Well; there was another little boy at the same school whose name was Billy. And one day his mamma sent him a cake. So, when the cake came, Billy said to his school-fellows, I have got a cake, come let us go and eat it. So they came about him like a parcel of bees; and Billy took a slice of cake himself, and then gave a piece to one, and a piece to another, till it was almost gone. Then Billy put the rest by, and said, I will eat it to-morrow. So he went to play, and the boys all played together very merrily. But presently after an old blind fiddler came into the court; he had a long white beard; and, because he was blind, he had a little dog in a string to lead him. So he came into the court, and sat down upon a stone, and said, My pretty lads, if you will, I will play you a tune. And they all left off their sport, and came and stood round him. And Billy saw that while he played the tears ran down his cheeks. And Billy said, Old man, why do you cry? And the old man said, Because I am very hungry-I have nobody to give me any dinners or suppers-I have nothing in the world but this little dog; and I cannot work. If I could work, I would. Then Billy went, without saying a word, and fetched the rest of his cake, which he had intended to have eaten another day, and he said, Here, old man; here is some cake for you. And Billy put it into his hat. And the fiddler thanked him, and Billy was more glad than if he had eaten ten cakes.

Pray which do you love best: Harry, or Peter, or Billy?

Mrs. Barbauld.

From Greenland's icy mountains,

From India's coral strand,

Where Afric's sunny fountains,
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver

Their land from error's chain.

What though the spicy breezes,
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle:
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strewn,
The heathen in his blindness,

Bows down to wood and stone.

Fol'-low-ing

Em-ployed'

Per-suade'

Pack'-a-ges Stitch'-ing

Cap'-it-al-ly Ac-com-mo-da'-tion Sav'-i-our

Ig'-no-rant

Many years ago, there lived a youth of the name of William Allen; and never was there a more sprightly and pleasant lad than he! always in good spirits, and always something to say worth hearing. His father had taken great pains with him, anxious to make him wise, not only in worldly things, but in the best of all wisdom, which is the fear of the Lord. Had you been along with him on one occasion, you would have been delighted. William had made a large show; for, his father being an optician, he knew very well how to manage it. He had drawn several pictures, and inclosed them in a large box, with nine glasses to look through. He had also several strings to pull up the pictures as 'he described them. The glasses made the pictures appear much larger than they really were; and what with the show itself, and what with the manner in which he described it, his was a famous exhibition. Nine young people were assembled, when William standing at the door of a small room, began his speech in the following manner. Oh, he did it capitally!

"Walk in! walk in, my boys and girls! only a half-penny a piece! walk in! walk in! plenty of room yet. You shall see here what is worth looking at. No nonsense here, none of your trumpery trash, to turn the heads of young people upside down. Stand close there my little folks, for others are coming in. Now then, for the last time, walk in, we charge you but a half-penny. Just going to begin. There! now shut the door. Let me see how many are there of you? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and the little boy in the corner with the leathern cap makes nine; just the right number, for there are nine glasses to look through. Now every one peep through a glass, and then you shall see and hear what is worth seeing, hearing, and remembering too. Take care of the little girl in the blue bonnet. Are you all ready? well, then, we will begin.

"Now look at this fine picture of a printer's workshop. Look to the left; there you see workmen composing the type-that is, placing the metal letters in their proper order to print with. Look in the centre; there are printing presses; the types have had the ink applied to them, the rollers are going round, the types are pressed against the paper. See how busily the workmen are employed. Look to the right, there they sit, stitching the printed sheets together. Further back they are cutting the edges smooth; and in the room behind with the door open, the books are being bound. All the work of printing and bookbinding is brought into one view expressly for your accommodation. Mark the warehouse in the righthand corner; all those packages, piled up together, are to be sent abroad. There they are, Bibles and Testaments, tracts, reward books, and broadsheets, all going across the wide sea to make the poor natives of other countries wiser and better. There you see all at one view--the paper, the types, the printing presses, the workmen, the books, the tracts, and the packages! Have you seen enough of them? Now then I will pull another string.

"Here you behold the full-length likenesses of two missionaries, who are about to go abroad. There they are, large as life. They are about to cross the raging deep in a large ship, and they will take with them the packages which you saw piled up together in the last picture. They are going to leave kindred and friends, and countrymen, and country, to do good to the poor heathen; to spread good news abroad, to persuade the ignorant people to cast aside the stocks and stones which they now ignorantly worship, and to turn to Him who made heaven, and earth, and sea, and all that in them is, and gave His only son, our Saviour, to die for sinners. Old Humphrey.