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GOOD-HUMOURED OBEDIENCE.

"OH dear! mother, must I finish all this hemming before I go to walk?" said little Helen Somers, as she held up the handkerchief she was at work upon; "I wish you would let me go now-will you, mother?"

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"No, Helen,” replied her mother; 'you must do all that I gave you to do. I want to see the handkerchief done and put away before you go out."

"Why, mother," persisted Helen, "there is no hurry about the handkerchief, and I can finish it just as well after I come home. I know I can do it before dark, and why may I not go out a little first ?"

In this way Helen continued to tease and trouble her mother, until she received a peremptory and decided refusal; and then she made up her mind that her mother was really very cross and unkind to her.

Her mother had taken the work into her own hands to look at the sewing, and she told Helen she thought she had not taken quite pains enough to do it well. This vexed Helen still more. Instead of saying pleasantly, "I am sorry it is not done neatly, mother-I will try to do the rest better," she declared that she could not do it any better if she tried.

Her mother looked very sad to see her daughter behave in so undutiful a manner: Helen seemed not to notice this, but took the handkerchief with something of a jerk, and then turned herself about a little upon her stool, so as almost to sit with her back to her mother. "How cross mother is, not to let me go, when she knows I wish it so much, and when I could finish this just as well another time.' These were her thoughts as she sat pouting, and twitching her thread, and making the most of every knot or other difficulty in her way.

If, instead of this, she had said, "what a perverse, undutiful girl I am," she would have been more correct. Helen could not see in this case, why her mother refused to let her do as she wished. But that was no reason why she should be vexed, or refuse to acquiesce in her decision. Her mother had, in reality, very good reasons for refusing to let her go out until her work was finished.

She wished to accustom her little girl to habits of industry and attention; and when Helen asked to go out, she said to herself—“Well, now, if I allow her to leave her work for this time, she will want to leave it at other times, and she will come to feel restless and discontented whenever I check her; she will always be thinking of something else that she should like to be doing; the hour for work will seem more tedious than it does now, and when the time for play comes, she will not enjoy that half as well as if she had been industriously employed until its arrival."

Helen thought nothing about these reasons, but as we have said before, that was no excuse for her yielding so reluctantly to her mother's wishes. No mother is under any obligation to tell her children the reason why she refuses in any case, to let them do exactly as they would like. No child ought ever to say, "Why, mother, may I not do so," or, "What is the reason you wish me to do such and such a thing?"-It is enough for children to know what their parents' wishes are, they ought always to comply with them cheerfully.

We hope none of the children who read this, will ever imitate the example of Helen. It is showing an undutiful spirit when you are ill-humoured and vexed, or when you give your parents any trouble because you cannot have your own way, in any case, just as much as if you were to say, "I will do as I have a mind." The next time you make a request of your parents, which they do not think proper to grant, try to act pleasantly. Give up at once, and say no more about it. It is never right for children to tease their parents for any thing. A dutiful, considerate child will never be heard saying, "Do, father, or do, mother, let me have such a thing," after the father or mother has once refused. It is right for you to tell them that you wish very much for a certain favour; but it is wrong to tease them about it, or to be sullen or out of humour, if it is not granted. You certainly cannot suppose your parents would ever wish to deny you any indulgence, without a good reason. They love you too much to do that. Whenever they deny you any thing you wish, it is because they know it will not be for your good to have it. Re

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member this whenever you are refused permission to sit up as late in the evening as you would like; or to go out when your parents think the weather is not suitable; or to take food which they think is not wholesome for you; or to join your companions in play abroad when they wish you to remain in the house, to learn your lessons.

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member that it is because they judge it safest and best for you, and by no means because they wish to deprive you of any pleasure; and that you ought to avoid giving them any pain or trouble by your ill-humoured looks or reluctant compliance.-Every Day Duty.

THE CLOCK AND THE DIAL.

It happened on a cloudy morn
A self-conceited clock, in scorn
A dial thus bespoke:

"My learned friend! if in thy power,
Tell me exactly what's the hour;
I am upon the stroke."

The modest dial thus replied:-
"That point I cannot now decide,
The sun is in the shade:
My information, drawn from him,
I wait till his enlivening beam
Shall be again display'd."

"Wait for him, then," return'd the clock,
"I am not that dependent block,

His counsel to implore;

One winding serves me for a week,
And hearken! how the truth I speak,

Ding, ding, ding, ding, just four."

While thus the boaster was deriding,
And magisterially deciding,

A sunbeam, clear and strong,

Showed on the line three quarters more;
And that the clock, in striking four,

Had told his story wrong.

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On this the dial calmly said:

(More prompt to advise than to upbraid,)
"Friend, go, be regulated!

Thou answer'st without hesitation,
But he who trusts thy calculation
Will frequently be cheated.

"

"Observe my practice, shun pretence;
Not confidence, but evidence

An answer meet supplies;
Blush not to say, 'I cannot tell,'

Not speaking much, but speaking well
Denotes the truly wise."-De La Motte.

KNOWLEDGE AND IGNORANCE.

Ir may generally be observed that, in every science, a slight and superficial knowledge often makes a person vain. and positive; while long and attentive study, and a deep insight into the real nature of things, produce a contrary effect, and lead to humility and diffidence.

This characteristic may be partly owing to that desire of displaying what they possess, which is often found in those who possess but little, and are therefore ambitious of making the most of it, in order to impose upon the world by false appearances, and to prevent a discovery of that poverty which they wish to conceal; but it is also often owing to a real misapprehension of things.

The shallow man, pleased with what he has acquired, and ignorant of what further might be acquired, is satisfied and positive, and decides at once; while those who are further advanced see a vast field of knowledge open before them, of which they are sensible that they can explore only a very small part; and by taking an enlarged view of things, and observing how often they have been deceived by considering them in a false light, are taught to be cautious, and to avoid being positive, where they are sensible their knowledge is imperfect.

The educated and well-informed man will also be more

open to conviction, and ready to acknowledge a mistake, because he is not under the necessity of endeavouring to impose upon the world by a false appearance of knowledge, which always indicates a deficiency in what is true and genuine. Ignorance alone pretends to infallibility, and it is indeed difficult to convince ignorance of a mistake.

The heart which is merely selfish, does not understand the language of benevolence, disinterestedness, and generosity, and therefore is very liable to misinterpret it; while those who feel themselves capable of great and worthy actions, will find no difficulty in believing that others may be so too, and will have an idea of a character, which can hardly ever be perfectly understood by those who feel nothing like it in themselves.-Miss Bowdler.

DEPENDENCE ON PROVIDENCE.

WHEN my breast labours with oppressive care,
And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear,
While all my warring passions are at strife,
Oh, let me listen to the words of life!
Raptures deep-felt His doctrines did impart,
And thus he raised from earth the drooping heart.

Think not, when all your scanty stores afford
Is spread at once upon the sparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While on the roof the howling tempest bears,
What farther shall this feeble life sustain,

And what shall clothe these shivering limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its investing weed?

Behold! and look away your low despair,-
See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them, nor stores, nor granaries belong;
Nought but the woodland and the pleasing song:
Yet, your kind Heavenly Father bends his eye
On the least wing that flits along the sky.

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