T. It is more fattening, and makes cows yield plenty of fine milk. Well-let us march.

Have you ever walked through the crowded streets of a great city?

What shoals of people pouring in from opposite quarters, like torrents meeting in a narrow valley! You would imagine it impossible for them to get through; yet all pass on their way without stop or molestation.

Were each man to proceed exactly in the line in which he set out, he could not move many pa ces without encountering another full in his track. They would strike against each other, fall back, push forward again, block up the way

for themselves and those after them, and throw the whole street into confusion.

All this is avoided by every man's yielding a little.

Instead of advancing square, stiff, with arms stuck out, every one who knows how to walk the streets, glides along, his arms close, his body oblique and flexible, his track gently winding, leaving now a few inches on this side, now on that, so as to pass and be passed, without touching, in the smallest possible space.

He pushes no one into the kennel, nor goes into it himself. By mutual accommodation the path, though narrow, holds them all.

He goes neither much faster nor much slower than those who go in the same direction. In the first case he would elbow, in the second he would be elbowed.

If any accidental stop arises, from a carriage crossing, a cask rolled, a pickpocket detected, or the like, he does not increase the bustle by rushing into the midst of it, but checks his расе, and patiently waits for its removal.

Like this is the march of life.

In our progress through the world a thousand things stand continually in our way. Some people meet us full in the face with opposite opinions and inclinations. Some stand before us in our pursuit of pleasure or interest, and others follow close upon our heels. Now, we ought in the first place to consider, that the road is as free for one as for another; and therefore we have no right to expect that persons should go out of their way to let us pass, any more than we out of ours. Then, if we do not mutually yield and accommo

date a little, it is clear that we must all stand still, or be thrown into a perpetual confusion of squeezing and jostling. If we are all in a hurry to get on as fast as possible to some point of pleasure or interest in our view, and do not occasionally hold back, when the crowd gathers and angry contentions arise, we shall only augment the tumult, without advancing our own progress. On the whole, it is our business to move onwards steadily but quietly, obstructing others as little as possible, yielding a little to this man's prejudices, and that man's desires, and doing every thing in our power to make the journey of life easy to all our fellow-travellers, as well as to ourselves.

ON PRESENCE OF MIND.

Mrs. F. one day having occasion to be blooded, sent for the surgeon. As soon as he entered the room, her young daughter, Eliza, started up, and was hastily going away, when her mother called her back.

Mrs. F. Eliza, do not go, I want you to stay by me.

Eliza. Dear mamma! I can never bear to see you blooded.

?

Mrs. F. Why not? what harm will it do you E. O dear! I cannot look at blood. Besides, 1 cannot bear to see you hurt, mamma !

Mrs F. O, if I can bear to feel it, surely you may to see it. But come you must stay, and we will talk about it afterwards.

Eliza then, pale and trembling, stood by her mother, and saw the whole operation. She could not help, however, turning her head away when the incision was made, and the first flow of blood made her start and shudder. When all was over, and the surgeon gone, Mrs. F. began.

Well, Eliza! what do you think of this mighty matter now? Would it not have been very foolish to have run away from it?

F. O mamma! how frightened I was when he took out his lancet! Did it not hurt you a great deal?

Mrs. F. No, very little. And if it had, it was to do me good, you know.

E. But why should I stay to see it? I could do you no good.

Mrs. F. Perhaps not; but it will do you good to be accustomed to such sights.

E. Why, mamma?

Mrs. F. Because instances are every day happening in which it is our duty to assist fellowcreatures in circumstances of pain and distress ; and if we were to indulge a reluctance to come near to them on those occasions, we should never acquire either the knowledge or the presence of mind necessary for the purpose.

E. But if I had been told how to help people in such cases, could not I do it without being used to see them?

Mrs. F. No. We have all naturally a horror at every thing which is the cause of pain and danger to ourselves or others; and nothing but habit can give most of us the presence of mind necessary to enable us in such occurrences to employ our knowledge to the best advantage.

E. What is presence of mind, mamma ?

This is

Mrs. F. It is that steady possession of ourselves in cases of alarm that prevents us from being flurried and frightened. You have heard the expression of having all our wits about us. the effect of presence of mind, and a most inestimable quality it is, for without it, we are full as likely to run into danger as to avoid it. Do you not remember hearing of your consin Mary's cap taking fire in the candle?

E. O yes-very well.

Mrs. F. Well-the maid, as soon as she saw it, set up a great scream, and ran out of the room; and Mary might have been burnt to death for any assistance she could give her.

E. How foolish that was!