they finished up the pudding. Everything new is hard work, but a little of the “Try." ointment rubbed on the hand and worked into the heart makes all things easy.

Cantdoit sticks in the mud, but Try soon drags the wagon cut of the rut. The fox said Try, and he got away from the hounds when they almost snapped at him. The bees said Try, and turned flowers into honey The squirrel said Try, and up he went to the top of the beechtree. The snowdrop said Try, and bloomed in the cold snows of winter. The sun said Try, and the spring soon threw Jack Frost out of the saddle. The young lark said Try, and he found his new wings took him over hedges and ditches, and up where his father was singing. The ox said Try, and plowed the field from end to end. No hill too steep for Try to climb; no clay too stiff for Try to plow; no field too wet for Try to drain; no hole too big for Try to mend.

Spoiled Children. Little children give their mother the headache; but i she lets them have their own way, when they grow up to be great children they will give her the heart-ache. Foolish fondness spoils many, and letting faults alone spoils more. Gardens that are never weeded will grow very little, worth gathering; all watering and no hoeing will make a bad crop. A child may have too much of its mother's love, and in the long run it may turn out that it had too little. —SPURGEON,

The Baby Over the Way.

Across in my neighbor's window,

With its folds of satin and lace,
I see, with its crown of ringlets,

A baby's innocent face.
The throngs in the street look upward,
And every one, grave and gay,

, Has a nod and smile for the baby

In the mansion over the way.

Just here in my cottage window,

His chin in his dimpled hands,
And a patch on his faded apron,

The child that I live for stands.
He has kept my heart from breaking

For many a weary day;
And his face is as pure and handsome

As the baby over the way.

Sometimes, when we sit together,

My grave little man of three Sore vexes me with the question:

“Does God, up in Heaven, like me ?" And I say: "Yes—yes, my darling!"

! Though I almost answer “nay," As I see the nursery candles

In the mansion over the way.

And oft when I draw the stockings

From the little tired feet,
And loosen the clumsy garments

From his limbs, so round and sweet,
I grow too bitter for singing,

My heart too heavy to pray,
As I think of the dainty raiment

Of the baby over the way.

O God in Heaven, forgive me

For all I have thought and said;
My envious heart is humbled

My neighbor's baby is dead !
I saw the little white coffin

As they carried it out today,
And the heart of a mother is breaking

In the mansion over the way.

The light is fair in my window,

The flowers bloom at my door;
My boy is chasing the sunbeams

That dance on the cottage floor.
The roses of health are crowning

My darling's forehead today;
But the baby is gone from the window
Of the mansion over the way.

MAY RILEY SMITH.

Children Like Flowers.

The brightest flowers in all the earth are those which grow in the garden of a Christian household, clambering over the porch of a Christian Home.—TALMAGR.

Condensed Comments.

As in the Master's spirit you take into your arms the little ones, His own everlasting arms will encircle them and you. He will pity both their and your simplicity; and as in unseen presence He comes again, His blessing will breathe upon you. — JAMES HAMILTON.

Never despair of a child. The one you weep the most for at the mercy-seat may fill your heart with the sweetest joys. -T. L. CUYLER.

Let France have good mothers, and she will have good sons.— NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

Children have more need of models than of critics. JOSEPH JOUBERT.

CHRIST.

Depend on Christ.

Reckon on Christ to do His part perfectly. Directly you give, He takes. Directly you will open the door, He enters. Directly you will open the floodgates, He pours in a glorious tide of fullness—fullness of wealth, of power, of joy. The clay has only to be plastic to the hand of a Palissy; the marble has only to be pliant to the chisel of a Michael Angelo; the organ has only to be responsive to the slightest touch of a Handel; the student has only to follow the least hint of a Faraday or a Whewell—and there will be no failure in results. Oh, to be equally susceptible to the molding influences of