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SIN MAKES ONE UNHAPPY.

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looks. I once saw two boys seated at the same desk at school', that is, their two desks were joined together', and they sat side by side', with plenty of room for them both. One of them was a little offended with the other for some reason', and so he put his elbow over upon his desk. The other pushed his elbow against him to crowd it back. They were both afraid of the master', and so pretended to be studying'; but yet they were hating one another', and crowding one another', as hard as they durst', and were both feeling very unhappy. If there had been a great bramble between them, pricking and worrying them both', it would not have given them so much real pain, as this crowding. The bramble could only have hurt the skin', but ill will and malice corrode the heart. Sin always makes us wretched.

A small boy was coming home from school one day', and another boy asked him to go up a long hill to his house; he said that if he would', he would show him a little kite he had. The boy wanted to see the kite', though he knew that his father wished to have him come immediately home from school. But as he wanted to see the kite so much', he thought he would go. So he went up the long hill. But he was very unhappy all the way. He knew that he was doing wrong in disobeying his kind father', and it made him miserable. He suffered more in that way than twenty such kites would have made him enjoy.

Sometimes the suffering caused by sin comes after the sin itself is all over. If a boy tells a lie', it always makes him feel unhappy to think of it. I have known boys to tell a lie, and then feel so miserable afterward' that they scarcely dared to be alone. We almost always think most of our sins when we are alone'; and then, as the Bible says, they "bite like a serpent', and sting like an adder.' That means', that the

remembrance of them makes us feel very wretched. This feeling grows worse and worse, too, the older we grow', and the more we sin`; and some very wicked men have killed themselves', because they were so miserable on account of their sins.

There is a great variety of sins which children commit. Sometimes they are undutiful to their parents, giving them trouble and sorrow', disobeying their commands', or doing contrary to their wishes. Sometimes they are ill-humored', and quarrelsome with their brothers and sisters',-even to such a degree, that some very bad children strike them', and push them', or call them bad names. Sometimes they are selfish and unjust, taking more than their share of what is given them. Children, too, are guilty of a great deal of sin towards God', when they do not love him', or try to please him`,—when they do not love to pray to him', and are not grateful to him for his kindness. In these ways', and in a great many others', children commit sin continually', and make themselves very miserable. I presume that you, who are now reading this book', have suffered more on account of your sins' than from all other causes put together. For this one reason sin is a very bad thing', and ought to be forsaken.

LESSON LVIII.

MARY DOW.

"COME in, little stranger'," I said',
As she tapped at my half-open door',
While the blanket pinned over her head',
Just reached to the basket she bore.

MARY DOW.

A look full of innocence fell

From her modest and pretty blue eye', As she said', "I have matches to sell', And hope you are willing to buy.

"A penny a bunch is the price';

I think you'll not find it too much
They're tied up so even and nice',
And ready to light with a touch."

I asked, "what's your name, little girl' ?"
"T'is Mary," said she', "Mary Dow`;"
And carelessly tossed off a curl',

That played o'er her delicate brow.

"My father was lost in the deep',

The ship never got to the shore'; And mother is sad, and will weep',

To hear the wind blow', and sea roar.

"She sits there at home without food',
Beside our poor sick Willie's bed`;
She paid all her money for wood',
And so I sell matches for bread.

"For every time that she tries',

Some things she'd be paid for, to make',
And lays down the baby', it cries',
And that makes my sick brother wake.

"I'd go to the yard and get chips",

But then it would make me too sad' To see men there building the ships', And think they had made one so bad.

"I've one other gown', and with care', We think it may decently pass',

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With my bonnet that's put by, to wear'
To meeting and Sunday-school class.

"I love to go there, where I'm taught Of One, who's so wise and so good'; He knows every action and thought',

And gives e'en the raven his food.

"For He, I am sure', who can take Such fatherly care of a bird', Will never forget or forsake

The children who trust to his word.

"And now, if I only can sell

The matches I brought out to day', I think I shall do very well`,

And mother 'll rejoice at the pay."

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"Fly home, little bird'," then I thought', Fly home full of joy to your nest`!" For I took all the matches she brought',And Mary may tell you the rest.

LESSON LIX.

HOME.

BY A LITTLE GIRL ELEVEN YEARS OLD.

WHEN from my native rocks I stray
From social joys more dear than they',
How oft my heart reproves the way'
That leads from home.

When anxious fears my mind assail',
When cares perplex, and pleasures fail',
Then to my heart how dear the tale',
That speaks of Home.

HOME.

When day's intrusive cares are o'er,
And evening comes with soothing power',
How sweet t'employ the pensive hour',
In thoughts of Home-

To think of all to us endeared',
Of past delights and friends revered',
And all the social joys that cheered'
The hours at Home.

Then fancy lends her brightest ray',
And hope illumes the future day
That calls me from these scenes away',
To dearer home.

Oh, then, to hear, with pleasure wild',
My parents' blessing on their child',
And listen to the accents mild',

That welcome Home'.

And when life's busy day is o'er',
And grief assails the heart no more',
So shall we hail the peaceful shore'
Of our eternal Home.

May He, who gives our little day',
Support us through life's devious way'
And then the parted soul convey',

To Heaven, its peaceful Home.
Rose Bud.

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