say from the time she had learned to speak. Presently, almost before she knew it, she found herself saying, "God bless my dear father." Her poor mother uttered a loud cry. "O Lily, my darling," she said, "don't say that any more! You have no father now!" This stopped the poor child. She didn't know what to say next. But, as she had always been in the habit of finishing with the Lord's Prayer, she thought she would use that. So she began with those sweet and tender words: "Our Father, who art in heaven." How beautiful those words seemed to Lily then! She thought she had never understood their meaning, or felt how sacred they were, till that very night. She stopped a while. Then she said them

over again. She said them the third time: "Our Father, who art in heaven." Then she looked up into her mother's sorrowing face, and said: "O mother, we have a Father yet! God is our Father. Jesus said so. He told us to pray to Our Father in heaven.'" Then she said these precious words over once more. She couldn't say any more of the prayer. This was enough. What comfort that poor, sorrowing child and her widowed mother found in the thought that they had a Father in heaven who never could be taken away from them! And as Lily fell asleep that night, these sweet words were lingering on her lips: "Our Father, who art in heaven."

HE answer to the first puzzle in the January number was-99 days. The answer to the second was-74 hours.

The following have answered both correctly-F. E. Chester, C. Knight, E. B. Wright, W. Stott, Elizabeth Cutts, T. Townend, A. Crabtree, A. Thackray, E. D. Taylor, W. H. Whitworth, H. Duncan, C. Taylor, J. Riley, H. Ll. Snape, T. E. Wakefield, C. Kirsop, J. Kirsop, C. Hubbard.

The following have answered one correctly-W. S. Gibson, A. M. CozensHardy, C. A. Holt, Sarah Dutton, E. Hamblin, W. H. Brock, J. Greenwood, A. N. Crompton, R. A. Richardson, R. H. Burton, T. Cobbledick, H. Ostler, C. J. Townend, W. Chapman, H. Townend, W. H. King, T. Muncaster, Lizzie Ward, C. S. Butterworth, T. Stake, E. H. Davy, George Horton, S. E. Barratt, T. Smith, W. Hardman, J. Hatch, J. Mather, T. Brown, T. Croasdale, S. Kershaw, E. Snook, B. H. Kershaw, F. Heap, T. Greenwood, J. Beard

wood, F. A. Carver, A. E. Wilcox, Annie Townend, C. E. Bridgwater.

I. In one house there lived a father, mother, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, nephew, niece, son, daughter, and two cousins; and yet only four persons lived in the house. Explain how this was.

II. A boy spent five shillings in apples and oranges, buying the apples at six a penny, and the oranges at four a penny. He afterwards sold two-thirds of his apples and half of his oranges for three shillings, taking only cost price. How many of each did he buy?

Letters for the Editor to be addressed-, Mr. M. MILLER,

4, Barnsbury-square,

London, N.

London: T. NEWTON, Methodist Free Church Book-room, 119, Salisbury-square, Fleetstreet, E.C.

UR first engraving this month needs no

words of explanation. Pretty Poll has managed to get hold of her master's watch, and does not know what to think of it. She will soon let it go, and then there will be a smash. But children as well as parrots often get into mischief, by meddling with things that they do not understand. Now getting into mischief is not nearly so bad as telling lies; but then mischief often leads to lies and all sorts of deception. We recollect reading, when we were young, the following little poem on this subject, called

MEDDLESOME MATTY.

One ugly trick has often spoiled
The sweetest and the best ;
Matilda, though a pleasant child,

One ugly trick possessed,
Which, like a cloud before the skies,
Hid all her better qualities.

Sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid
To peep at what was in it;
Or tilt the kettle, if you did

But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch,
Her trick of meddling grew so much.

Her grandmamma went out one day,
And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuff-box gay
Too near the little maid;
"Ah! well," said she, "I'll try them on
As soon as grandmamma is gone."

Forthwith she placed upon her nose

The glasses large and wide; And looking round, as I suppose, The snuff-box, too, she spied:

"Oh! what a pretty box is that;
I'll open it," said little Mat.

"I know that grandmamma would say,
'Don't meddle with it, dear;'
But then, she's far enough away,

And no one else is near;
Besides, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this?"

So thumb and finger went to work
To move the stubborn lid,
And presently a mighty jerk

The mighty mischief did;
For all at once, ah! woeful case!
The snuff came puffing in her face.

Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside,
A dismal sight presented;

In vain, as bitterly she cried,

Her folly she repented.

In vain, she ran about for ease,
She could do nothing now but sneeze.
She dashed the spectacles away,

To wipe her tingling eyes;
And, as in twenty bits they lay,

Her grandmamma she spies. "Heyday! and what's the matter now?" Says grandmamma, with lifted brow.

Matilda, smarting with the pain,

And tingling still and sore,
Made many a promise to refrain

From meddling evermore;
And 'tis a fact, as I have heard,
She ever since has kept her word.

Let the boys and girls who read the Hire learn not to be meddlesome; they will then escape a good deal of trouble.

MORE

there lived in a village of England a boy named Richard Whittington. His parents, who were quite poor, died while he was yet a child. Not wishing to be a burden to anyone, he thought he would go to London and seek employment. So he put a few articles of dress in a bag, and, with a stout stick under his arm, set forth on his journey.

It was a long and weary walk for him in those days, and sometimes he felt almost famished for want of food. At Highgate, within view of London, he sat down on a rock by the road-side. He felt so sad and hungry that he could hardly keep from weeping. He threw his bag and stick on the ground, and wished he were back in the village where he was born.

"There," thought he to himself" there, in that quiet village, are at least the graves of my parents. There I can find persons who knew and respected them, and who will give me work enough to keep me from starving. Yes, I think I will go back." Richard turned his face in the direction of his old home, and rose from his seat. But suddenly he heard the Bow Bells chiming, and he sat down again and listened.

He listened for some minutes, sitting with upraised finger in the attitude of one whose senses are all absorbed in the one sense of hearing. And he smiled while he listened; for he fancied that the bells suited their chiming to these words, "Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."

Very slight causes will sometimes influence us strongly for good or for evil. Richard had probably, in his day-dreams, been thinking how many a poor boy had, by industry, fidelity, and strict attention to duty, risen to offices of high trust. Why might not a poor boy rise even to be Lord Mayor ?" perhaps he had thought.

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HITTINGTON.

How hard it was to give up all these hopes of advancement, and go back to his native village! And so, while he was hesitating, the very bells, as they chimed, seemed to protest against his faint-hearted resolve, and to cry out to him, by way of encouragement, "Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."

And he did turn. He took up his bundle and stick, and walked on to London. He saw a mercer's shop. On the sign over the door was the name of HUGH FITZWARDen. Richard paused and looked in at the windows, and at last, boldly entering the shop, accosted Mr. Fitzwarden, and told his story.

The good mercer was pleased with Richard's frank and respectful manner, and his bright, pleasant face. So he said to him, "I will take you on trial, my lad. If you are diligent, honest, and attentive, be sure you will prosper, and we shall agree very well." So Richard became the mercer's apprentice.

Richard's first care was to be strictly honest; his next, to look closely after the interests of his master, and to grudge no labour spent in his service. So well did he succeed in these determinations, that Mr. Fitzwarden grew very fond of him, and encouraged an attachment which he saw springing up between his only daughter, Alice, and the youth.

So Richard at last became the good mercer's son-in-law. A few years afterwards he was made partner in the business. So much skill and faithfulness did he show in all his dealings, that he gained a high character among the merchants; and before he was forty years old, when the citizens were looking round for a candidate for their highest civic office, one tradesman said to another, "If we could have Richard Whittington for our mayor, we should be sure of having an honest man."

"That's a good idea," said the other tradesman. "There's no dealer in all London I would trust s soon as I would Whittington. I never knew him do a mean thing. Why, sir, just before last Christmas I sold him a lot of damaged silk-at least, I thought it was damaged. But Whittington found it was much better than I had represented; and so, what does he do but come and tell me the fact, and insist on paying me the full price for the article! That's the kind of honesty I like."

And so it happened that when Whittington's name was mentioned, all the merchants said he was a very fit man to be Lord Mayor, and he was accordingly elected without any difficulty. Three several times he filled the

S

office. He founded some of the best charitable institutions of the city. King Henry made him a knight, under the title of Sir Richard Whittington.

But Sir Richard was not puffed up by his success. He was quite as plain and good a man as when he was simple Richard. He felt that he was merely a steward of the bounties which Providence had committed to him. He prized wealth only as it enabled him to help the needy and afflicted. The rock is still shown in Highgate where he sat down and fancied that Bow bells rang out those words of cheer: " Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London! Turn again, turn again, turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London !"-Children's Paper.

OLOMON said, many centuries ago, "Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right."

Some people seem to think that children have no character at all. On the contrary, an observing eye sees, in those young creatures, the signs of what they are likely to be for life.

When I see a little boy slow to school,

and glad of every excuse to neglect his book, I think it is a sign that he will be a dunce.

When I see a boy in haste to spend every penny as soon as he gets it, I think it is a sign that he will be a spendthrift.

When I see a boy hoarding up his pennies, and unwilling to part with them for any good purpose, I think it is a sign that he will be a miser.

N old Scotchman was taking his grist

to mill in sacks thrown across the back of his horse, when the horse stumbled, and the grain fell to the ground. He had not strength to raise it, he being an aged man, but he saw a horseman riding along, and thought he would appeal to him for help. But the horseman proved to be a nobleman who lived in the castle hard by, and the farmer could not muster courage to ask a favour of him. But the nobleman was a

gentleman also, and, not waiting to be asked, he quickly dismounted, and between them they lifted the grain to the horse's back. John-for he was a gentleman, too—lifted his Kilmarnock bonnet, and said, "My lord, how shall I ever thank you for your kindness?" Very easily, John," replied the nobleman. "Whenever you see another man in the same plight as you were in just now, help him, and that will be thanking me."

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