entered, the latter bade him good morning with a cheerful smile, and said, "You are to be our errandboy, are you?"

"I suppose so: shall I sweep out the shop?"

“Well, yes, I suppose that will be a part of your business now: so, Bridget, you can give Charles the broom, and go out and see about breakfast."

Bridget did not seem at all loth to yield the broom, and Charles began sweeping in good earnest. Mrs. M followed Bridget out, leaving Charles all alone. He made the place as neat as he could, and was thinking what else to do, when Mrs. Mcame in again. She praised him for his "notion of keeping things tidy," as she expressed it.

The druggist was a widower: he had lost three children when they were quite young; and now he had no one to care for, and no one to care for him, except good little Mrs. M

"Good morning," said the druggist to his housekeeper, as he came in, and took his seat at the breakfast-table: "I had no opportunity of speaking to you last night. Did you find Mrs. M-?"

"Yes, and I got there just in the nick of time: they were sitting down to tea, and there was nothing on the table but some dry bread, and a little milkand-water."

"Has Charles come yet?" he asked, after some time.

66

Yes, Sir; and I think he is a very nice boy: he seems willing to work."

"What is he doing now?"

"I left him washing the windows."

"Then I must go and see that he doesn't break anything."

"I don't think you need be afraid, Sir," said Mrs. M-, smiling, as he went into the shop.

Charles was putting the things carefully back into the window when his new master went in, and he at once began to think that Mrs. M- was right. During the day, Charles made himself useful in several ways: he was naturally a bright, active boy; and now gratitude to the druggist, and the idea of benefiting his mother, made him work with double energy. Charles soon earned enough to make his mother comfortable; and his truth and honesty made him respected by all who knew him.

66 Mother," said Charles, one evening, as he was sitting down with her to his tea; "mother, the best day's business I ever did was breaking Mr. B- S shop-window."

"No, Charles; the 'best' was owning it honestly, and not being afraid to tell the truth."

A STORY ABOUT JACK.

THERE was once a remarkable dog, named Jack. He was just about the age of his young master, a fat, rosy boy, with whom he was nearly always to be found. They were both enjoying their third In mutual affection, love of water, and all sorts of sport and mischief, and a good appetite, ese young friends were considerably alike. But

summer.

there the resemblance ceased; for, in respect of sense, the dog had decidedly the advantage.

Once, the little boy's parents got a terrible fright about him. They had been busy with various matters for two or three hours, when suddenly they remembered that in all that time they had neither seen nor heard their little boy. They started at once in search of him. The mother inquired of the servants, and explored the garden; while the father went this way and that way to the houses of several neighbours, without any success. Just then the father happened to think of a dangerous old well which was beyond the kitchen, and which had long been left without an adequate fence round it. The very thought of the well, in connexion with his little boy's absence, fairly made him shudder: and his new-born fears were felt to be almost realized when he that moment heard Jack bark in that direction; and then, for the first time, bethought him that he had heard that bark, in the very same place, for the past two hours. Dizzy with alarm, he rushed to the old well; and, sure enough, there sat Jack, but not quite so near to the well as to an immense old rose-bush, which, growing by the side of the kitchen, attained the height of perhaps six or seven feet, and then bent over till it touched the ground; forming quite a roof of leaves, under which there was a clean grass-carpet. And there lay the dimpled boy, fast asleep, and as rosy and dewy as any flower on the bush.

Jack, you see, seems to have entertained some grave doubts about the propriety of so long a nap

in the open air, and therefore called, as well as a dog could do, for some one to come and take his young master into the house. But he never would have left the spot while the boy remained there.

Now, suppose some one had stepped up just then, and said, "What will you take for that dog?" Do you not think the gentleman would have been as much insulted as if he had asked, "What will you take for that boy?"

It was one of Jack's greatest delights to be put in charge of his master's hat and gloves, or stick, or something he could watch; and it was amusing to see what a look of the protector he could assume, laying one paw across the stick, as if he had said, "Touch it, Sir, if you dare!"

NELLIE'S QUESTION.

NELLIE was a bright little girl who had never been known to sit still ten minutes at a time; and yet there she sat by my side, on her little low stool, playing with her doll, but without a single word.

"What are you thinking about, Nellie?" I asked, at length; and the thoughtful face looked up into mine as she asked, "Cousin Kleine, is there a God?"

"Why, Nellie," said I, "who made you and me, and this beautiful world?" "Lillie says it happened so; that it is all chance," said the child, in a low tone. Lillie's father was an infidel, and the children had been discussing the belief of their parents.

"Nellie," said I, "what is it that you have upon your finger?" "My thimble," she said, wondering what that had to do with her question. "Where did you get it?" "Aunt Jane gave it to me last "Well, aunt Jane bought it at the jeweller's; but where did the jeweller get it?" "Why, he made it," was the answer.

summer."

"Nellie, the other day, as I was walking in the fields, I found a thimble. Now, how do you know but the jeweller found yours? and that they are always found just as we have them, all made by chance?"

"Why," exclaimed Nellie in astonishment, "that cannot be; for they are made on purpose to sew with. They have little dents to put the head of the needle in, and a smooth place left for the name; and then they are of different sizes, to fit everybody. Somebody must have made them."

"You say somebody must have made them, because they are just what we want to sew with, and are evidently made with a plan. Now, Nellie, I know that somebody must have made us, because all the parts of the body are exactly fitted for certain things; I can see a plan in them. That somebody must be God.

"Do you remember when you had the stiff neck last week?" "O, yes: when I wanted to see anything at the side, I had to turn my whole body around. I am so glad we don't always have to do so." "Well, why don't we always have to do so?" Nellie was very thoughtful for a moment, and then said, with a bright smile, "O, because we have a kind of