do not know who, have tied the grass together a-cross' the path, and, as I was running with all my might, I have fallen, and sprained my ancle, so that I shall not be a'ble to walk for a month.

I

am very sorry, said Edward; have you a great deal of pain? O yes, said the man, but that I do not regard; I was going in great haste to fetch a surgeon to bleed a gentleman who is in a fit, and they say he will die if he is not bled. Then Edward and William turned pale as ashes, and said, Where does the surgeon live? we will go for him ; we will run all the way. He lives at the

next town, said the man, but it is a mile off, and you cannot run so fast as I could have done; for you are only boys. Where must we tell the surgeon to come to? said William. He must come to the white house, at the end of the long chesnut av'e-nue, said the man; he is a very good gentleman that lives there. O it is papa! it is our dear papa! said the two boys. Oh papa will die; what must we do?-I do not know whether their papa died or not; I believe he got well again; but I am sure of one thing, that Edward and William never again tied grass to throw people down, as long as they lived.

QUESTIONS.

What kind of boys were William and Edward? What were they fond of? What did they do in order to make people fall? Who was the first that fell? What happened to poor Susan? Who fell next after Susan? What hurt did

this man get by his fall? Where was he going when he fell? For whom was he to fetch the surgeon? Who was the man that was in a fit? Did these boys ever tie the grass again?

DAY.

The sun rises bright in the air,
The dews of the morning are dry,
Men and beasts to their labours re-pair',
And the lark wings his way to the sky.
Now, fresh from his moss-dappled shed,
The husbandman trudges along,
And, blithe as the lark o'er his head,
Begins the new day with a song.

Just now,

all around was so still,

Not a bird drew his head from his wing;

Not an echo was heard from the hill,

Not a water-fly dipt in the spring:
Now, every thing wakes from its sleep,
The shep-herd boy pipes to his flock,
The common is speckled with sheep,
And cheerfully clam'ours the cock.

Now, winding along on the road,
Half hid by the hedges so gay,
The waggon drags slow with its load,
And its bells tinkle, tinkle away.
The husbandman follows his plough,
Across the brown fallow-field's slope,

And toils in the sweat of his brow,
Repaid by the pleasures of hope.

The city, so noisy and wide,

Begins to look smoky and grey;
Now, business, and pleasure, and pride,
March each in a different way;
The merchant with dig'ni-fied look,
My lord, and my lady so fair;
The school-boy with sat'chel and book;
And all to their business repair.

For the dews of the morning are flown,
And the sun rises bright in the sky;
A-like' in the field and the town,

Men and beasts to their labours apply.
Now, idle no hand must remain,

Nor eye sunk in slumber so dark,

For evening is coming again,

And the night, in which no man can work.

And what is our life but a day?

A short one that soon will be o'er ;

It pres'ent-ly gallops away,

And will not return any more.

To-morrow may never arise,

And yesterday's over and gone; Then catch at to-day as it flies, 'Tis all we can reckon our own.

THE OYSTER.

It

The oyster is a kind of shell-fish, which all of you must have often seen. In some places it is found of a much larger size than we are accustomed to see in this part of the world, being sometimes as large as a plate, and sometimes, it is said, of size large enough to afford a meal for several men. All the species of oysters, as well as some other shell-fish, at times contain pearls. But there is one particular species, called the pearl oyster, which is pe-culiar-ly valuable on this account. has a large strong whitish shell, rough and hard in the outside, but smooth and polished within. From the internal coats of the shell, is taken what is called mother of pearl, re-sem'bling the pearl in colour and consistence. But it is the pearl itself which is by far the most valuable. The value of this article increases in proportion to its fig'ure and colour, as well as to its size. The most extensive pearl fishery is said to be in the Persian Gulf. It is as wretched and hurtful an occupation for a human being, as it is possible to conceive. Those engaged in it are chiefly slaves: they dive to the bottom of the water perfectly naked, with a net fastened to their necks, for the purpose of containing the oysters, and are let down by a rope, with a stone of forty or fifty pounds weight fastened to it, to keep them down to the bottom, where they remain from a quarter to three quarters of an hour

at a time. They are mostly cut off in the prine of life by disease, occasioned by the pressure upon the lungs while in the water.

QUESTIONS.

What kind of fish is an oyster? Of what size is it sometimes found? What do oysters sometimes contain? From what part of the shell is mother of pearl taken? Where is the most extensive pearl fishery said to be? Who are chiefly engaged in it? What cruelty is exercised on the poor slaves engaged in this fishery? What effect has this cruelty on these slaves?

All the linen, which we wear on our backs as shirts, or use for sheets, to w'els, table cloths, and a thousand other purposes of the same kind, is procured, by human industry, from a plant, which grows even in our own fields. As soon as this plant, which is called flax, is ripe, it is pulled up by the roots, and after being for some time laid in little bundles to dry, and deprived of its seed vessels, it is put into pits of water to rot, in order that its fi'bres, or thready parts, may be easily separated from each other. The smell, which this operation occasions, is most abominable: and it is also so destructive to the fish which may be in the water, or to any cattle which may drink of it, that, by an act of the parlia-ment of Scotland, every one is prohibited from steeping flax in any running water or lake. After the flax has been long enough in the water, it is taken out, and then washed,