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As it meditated thus, a strong breeze 1 out of its hole, and, to its delight, it sucsighed mournfully through the autumn ceeded, and, with a few more efforts, even woods, and shook down many browncontrived to keep its head steadily above leaves from the old oak, and with them the ground, and look around it. acorn. “This will hinder my progress again,” “There is my father, the old oak,” it thought the acorn, “ for it is evident such said. “He looks quite green again. But a downfall as this can have nothing to do I am a long way off from him, and how with my education. When will my train very small and close to the ground! When ing begin?"
shall I begin to be like him?" A day or two afterwards a drove of hogs But meantime it was very happy. It was turned into the forest, and they began felt so full of life, although so small; and grunting and grubbing among the dead the sun shone so graciously on it, and all leaves for acorns. Many of its brethren the showers and dews seemed so full of did our acorn see ruthlessly hurried into kindly desires to help and nourish it; and those voracious snouts. It kept very quiet more and more little green leaves expanded under the dead leaves, to avoid a similar from its sides, and more and more little fate, but it thought-“This is a sad delav. ! busy roots shot down into the earth, and It is too plain that being trampled on and the leaves breathed and drank in the suntossed about in this way can teach no one shine, and the roots were great chemists anything. When will my training be- ! and cooks, and concocted a perpetual feast gin?"
for it out of the earth and stones. But it Meanwhile, the swine rummaged among thought sometimes, “This is all exceedingly the dead leaves, and trod them under foot, | pleasant, and I am very happy ; but, of and tossed the decaying mould hither and course, this is not education; it is only thither with their snouts and feet, until enjoying mysell. When will my training one of them by accident rolled our acorn begin? down a little hill, where it lay buried under The next spring the early frosts had some stray leaves many yards from the much more power over it in its detached, edge of the forest, in the outskirts of a exposed situation than over the saplings in park. There it lay unobserved all the rest i the shelter of the forest, and it saw the of the winter. Even this was a pleasant ! trees in the wood growing green, and change, after having been tossed about and i tempting the song-birds beneath their leafy trodden under foot so long, but in its fall tents, whilst the sap still flowed feebly its shrivelled brown skin had cracked, and upward through its tiny cells, and its the acorn thought-" This is a sad disaster. | twigs and leaf-buds were still brown and How ever am I to grow into an oak, when hard. I am so crushed and cracked that scarcely “This must be a great hindrance to me,” any one would recognise me for an acorn? it thought; “this, no doubt, will retard When will my training begin?”
my education considerably. What a pity All the winter the rain pattered on it, I stand here so detached and unprotected! and sank it deeper and deeper under the When will my training begin ? " dead leaves and under the earth-clods, But in the late spring came some days of until all its acorn beauty was marred and black east wind and bitter frost, and it saw crushed out of it, and it fell asleep in the the more forward leaves in the wood turn dark, under the cold, damp earth ; and the i pale and shrivel before they unfolded, and snows came and folded it in under their then fall off, nipped and lifeless, to join the white, eider-down pillows. At last, the old dead leaves of the past autumn, whilst warm touch, that comes to all sleeping its own little buds lay safe within their nature in the spring, came softly on it, and hard and glossy casings, protected by one it awoke. "What a pity, it said, i enemy against a worse. And when the east “I should have lost so much time wind and black frosts were gone, the little by falling asleep! I can scarcely make l sapling shot up freely out what I am like, or where I am. In that summer, and the next, and the What a sad waste of time! It is next, it made great progress; but in the clear no one can go on with his education fourth autumn a great disappointment in sleep. When will my training begin?" I awaited it. The owner of the park in which
With these thoughts, it stretched out | it grew came by, and stood beside it, and two little green things on each side of it, said to his forester-which felt like wings; and tried to peepi “That sapling is worth preserving, it is
vigorous and healthy; and, standing in annoying ; but one must bear them pathis detached position, it will break the line tiently. They are certainly hindrarces; of the wood, and look well from my house. i and it is disheartening, when one does We will watch it, and set a fence around one's best, to be continually thrown back it to guard it from the cattle. But it has by these trifling checks. When will my thrown out a false leader. Take your knife training begin ? " and cut this straggling shoot away, and But, one summer day, a little girl and next year, I have no doubt, it will grow and old man came and seated themselres well."
under its shade. By this time it had seen Theu the forester applied his knife care some generations of men, and had learned fully to the false leader, and cut it off. But something of human language. the sapling, not having understood the mas The old man said: “I remember, when ter's words,'nor observed with wbat care! I was a very little boy, my grandfather and design the knife was applied, felt telling me how, when he was young, he wounded to the core.
had markell this tree, then a mere sapling, “My best and strongest shoot," it sighed and pruned it of a false shoot, which would to itself. “It was a cruel cut. It will have spoiled its beauty, and had it fenced take me a long time to repair that loss. I and preserved. And now my little grandam afraid it has lost me at least a year. daughter and I sit under its shade! The When will my training begin ?"
fence has long since decayed ; but it is not But the next year the master's words needed. The cattle come and lie under its were fulfilled.
shadow, as we do. It is a noble oak-tree Thus years passed on. And slowly, twig now, and gives shelter instead of needing by twig, and shoot by shoot, the sapling grew. Sunbeams expanded its leaves ; Then the oak rustled above them; and rains nourished its roots; frosts, checking the old man and the child thought it was a its early buds, hardened its wood; winds summer breeze stirring the branches. But swaying it hither and thither, as if they | in reality it was the oak laughing to itself, were determined to level it, only rooted it as it thoughtmore firmly. And year by year the top " Then I am really a tree! and, whilst grew a little higher, and the wood a little I was wondering when my training wou. firmer, and the trunk a little thicker, and begin, it has been finished, and I am an the roots a little deeper ; but so slowly, oak after all!” that summer by summer it said
“This is very pleasant; but it is only breathing, and being happy. It certainly cannot be the discipline which forms the
A GOOD DAY'S WORK. great oaks. When will my training be
“I've done a good day's work, if I nerer
do another,” said Mr. Barlow, rubbing bis And autumn by autumn, as the sap hands together briskly, and with the air of flowed downward, and the buds ceased to a man who felt very much pleased with expand, and the branches grew leafless and himself. dry, it thought
« And so have I.” Mrs. Barlow's voice “This is a sad loss of time. Now I am | was in a lower tone, and less exultant, yet falling into torpor again, and shall make | indicative of a spirit at peace with itself. not an inch of progress for six long months. “Let us compare notes," said Mr. Bariow, When will my training begin ?"
in the confident manner of one who knows And winter by winter, as the winds bent that triumph will be on his side " and see it to and fro, and made its branches creak, which has done the best day's work." and threatened its very existence, and the " You, of course,” returned the gentleheavy snows sometimes broke its boughs—| hearted wife.
“These are sore trials. I may be thank “We shall see. Let the history of your ful if I barely struggle through them! In day's doings precede mine.". days like these existence is an effort, and “No," said Mrs. Barlow," you shall gire endurance the utmost one can attain. the first experience." When will my training begin ?”
“Very well.” And full of his subject, And in the spring, when the frosts Mr. Barlow began : nipped its finest buds
“ You remember the debt of Warfieid, “ These little nips and checks are very | about which I spoke a few days ago ?"
“ I resolved last night," said she, “after “I considered it desperate-would have passing some hours of self-examination and sold out my interest at thirty cents on the self-upbraidings, that I would, for one day, dollar when I left home this morning. Now try to possess my soul in patience. And the whole claim is secure. I had to scheme a this day has been the trial-day. Shall I little. It was sharp practice. But the thing is done. I don't believe that another creditor Mrs. Barlow looked up with a timid, of Warfield's will get a third of his claim." half-bashful air at her husband. She did
“ The next operation,"continued Mr. Bar not meet his eyes, for he had turned them low, “I consider quite as good. About a year partly away. ago I took fifty acres of land in Erie county, “ Yes, dear Jenny, go on.” The husfor a debt, at a valuation of five dollars an band's buoyancy of tone was gone. In its acre. I sold it to-day for ten. I don't think place was something tender and pensire. the man knew just what he was buying. “Little Eddy was unusually fretful this IIe called to see me about it, and I asked morning, as you will remember. He seemed ten dollars an acre at a venture, when he perverse, I thought-cross, as we call it. promptly laid down one hundred dollars to I was tempted to speak harshly two or bind the bargain. If I should never see | three times ; but, remembering my good him again, I am all right. That is transac resolution, I put on the armour of pation number two. Number three is as tience, and never let him hear a tone of my pleasant to remember. I sold a lot of voice that was not a loving tone. Dear litgoods, almost a year out of date, to a tle fellow! When I went to wash him, young country merchant, for cash. He after breakfast, I found just behind one of thinks he has a bargain, and perhaps he his ears a small, inflamed boil. It has has; but I would have let them go at any made liim slightly foverish and worrysome time during the past six months at a loss all day. Oh, wasn't I glad that patience of thirty per cent., and thought the sale a had ruled my spirit! desirable one.
“After you went away to the store, “Now, there is my good day's work, Mary got into one of her bad humours. Jenny, and it is one to be proud of. I take She didn't want to go to school, to begin some credit to myself for being, upon the with ; then she couldn't find her slate ; and whole, a pretty bright sort of a man, and then her shoe pinched her. I felt very bound to go through. Let us have your much annoyed; but, recalling my good story, now.”
resolution, I met her irritation with calmThe face of Mrs. Barlow flushed slightly. ness, her wilfulness with patient admoniHer husband waited for a few moments, tion, her stubborn temper with gentle reand then said
buke: and so I conquered. She kissed “Let us hear of the yards of stitching, me, and started for school with a cheerful and the piles of good things made—" countenance, her slate in her satchel, and
“No-nothing of that," answered Mrs. the pinching shoe unheeded. And so I Barlow, with a slight veil of feeling cover had my reward. ing her pleasant voice. “I had another “But my trials were not over. Some meaning when I spoke of having accom extra washing was needed. So I called plished a good day's work. And now, as Ellen, and told her that Mary would remy doings will bear no comparison with quire a frock and two pairs of drawers to be yours, I think of declining their re washed out, the baby some slips, and you
some pocket-handkerchiefs. A saucy re"A bargain is a bargain, Jenny," said fusal leaped from the girl's quick tongue, Mr. Barlow. “Word-keeping is a cardinal and indignant words to mine. Patience ! virtue. So let your story be told. You patience! whispered a small, still voice. I have done a good day's work in your | stifled with an effort my feelings, restrained own estimation, for you said so. Go on. | my speech, and controlled my countenance. I am all attention."
Very calmly, as to all exterior signs, did I Mrs. Barlow still hesitated. But after a look into Ellen's face, until she dropped her little more urging, she began her story of a eyes to the floor in confusion. good day's work. Her voice was a little Too You must have forgotten yourself,' subdued, and there was an evident shrink- said I, with some dignity of manner, yet ing from the subject about which she felt without a sign of irritation. She was consträined to speak.
humbled at once; confessed the wrong, and
begged my pardon. I forgave her, after we think of Paul living in luxury? And reproof, and she went back to the kitchen, was the example of Christ more binding something wiser, I think, than when I sum | upon him than it is on us? If we remem. moned her. The washing I required has bered this, should we not lose much of our been done, and well done ; and the girl has feverish anxiety ?” seemed all day as if she were endeavouring “Undoubtedly ; but what is the second to atone, by kindness and service, for that lesson?” I asked. hasty speech. If I mistake not, we were “ To live one day at a time. Is it not both improved by the discipline through | tanght, when we are bidden to pray, which we passed."
Give us this day our daily bread,' not for “ Other trials I have had through the to-day and to-morrow also, but only for day, some of them quite as severe as the this day? If we thus lived, we should few I have mentioned; but the armour of love another enormous load of care. What patience was whole when the sun went | a happy life! Each morning, like a little down. I was able to possess my soul in child, putting our hand lovingly into the peace, and the conquest of self has made Great Father's, then, if in danger of falling, me happier. This is my good day's work. that mighty hand would sare us. But It may not seem much in your eyes."
we do not believe all God tells us, for Mr. Barlow did not look up nor speak, though we trust to him the salvation of our as the voice of his wife grew silent. . She souls, we scarcely trust him at all in worldly waited almost a minute for his response. things, unless we can almost see the coming Then he went forward, suddenly, and
good.” kissed her, saying as he did so
“But should we not provide for sickness " Mine was work, yours a battle-mine and old age ?” success, yours a conquest-mine easy toil, “ Certainly, but when we have planned yours heroism! Jenny, dear, since you as wisely as we can, we have no right to be have been talking, I have thought thus : anxious about success, for we have the My good work has soiled my garments, absolute promise of God that “all things while yours are without a stain. Loving work together for good to them that love monitor! may your lesson of to-night God,' and it is the third lesson we have to make me a better man. Your good day's learn, to believe it. Every word of that work gives a twofold blessing !”- Ameri precious promise should be stamped upon can Paper.
our hearts with a Divine emphasis. With what pathos did the Master point to the birds and field lilies, as proofs of the loving
care of our Father! How touchingly does LIVE ONE DAY AT A TIME. he add, 'Shall he not much more clothe “God gives us but one care to bear,"
you, O ye of little faith ? For your heasaid Aunt Nabby, earnestly, "that is, to
venly Father knoweth that ye have need glorify him, by growing daily more holy
of all these things.' The promise is sure; ourselves, and by trying to lead others to
let us trust, nothing doubting, even if we serve him. All other care he bids us cast
cannot see how good is to come from seemupon him, knowing that he careth for us.
ing misfortune. Oh, if we were more selfThat we may do so, he gives us three
denying, if we would live one day at a time, lessons to learn. The first is, 'that it is
as God gives it to us, instead of condensing
into it years of anxiety for troubles which, enough for the servant to be as his master.' Now our Master led no luxurious life. In
if they come, are but disguised blessings ;
if we would believe God's word, instead of the beautiful form of prayer he gave us, he bade us pray for our daily bread.' The
our own wicked fears, should we not lose
all care save the holy one lest we offend whole spirit of the Divine teachings for
our Saviour ? Would not the words of the bids our praying for riches, to be expended upon ourselves, and dare we seek that for
Psalmist be fulfiled to us, “Thou wilt keep which we should not dare to pray- for that |
| him in perfect peace whose beart is stayed against which we prayed ? What would on theer
J Story for the Christmas Fireside.
“PEACE ON EARTH."
" And which of them have I the honour
of knowing ?" "Are you going to Mrs. Wilson's - Morrison," to-night? ' asked Henry Kildare as he en- : Henry stared, and said, "That dirty tered his sister's drawing-room on the old fellow?" Christmas Eve of 18–..
“ Yes; he has promised to give himself Mr. Hilton's reply was negative. She a thorough scrubbing; and I have prehad altered her opinion of card-parties ; : sented him with a decent suit for the occaand, lesides, she had an engagement.
“May I ask what engagement ? ” said ! " What extravagance!" hier brother.
" Say, rather, What economy!' for I “You may. I have asked several people' bought the clothes second-hand from Wil. to spend the evening with me."
liam Smith, whose good little wife patched “A party of your own, and I am not i them for me." invited?"
“And where will you receive your new “ You shall be, if you wish, although I friends--in your drawing-room ? ain not sure you will enjoy it."
“They would hardly feel at home here," - Who are the people? Do I know any | said Mrs. Hilton, “ so I have had the of them?”
kitchen decorated.” " It is not probable that you are ac. į Henry laughed. quainted with all; but there is one whom " May I ask in what manner?” said he. you med very frequently on your way to “ You may,---or, if you have suflicient the office."
curiosity, you can go and see for yourself.” “ That must be old Mr. Thompson, - . “ It is a very simple affair," continued Mrs. Crasus, is we call him. Rich as he is, I Hilton, as they went down. “ Flags, with cannot liłe him; but I suppose, as he is a evergreens and mottoes, at one end; and relation of Hilton's, you expect a legacy." ' evergreens, with mottoes and flags, at the
"I do not expect a legacy; and old Mr. , other. But my guests will not be criThompson would not come and see me if I tical.” asked hin, for he is angry with me for “I should suppose not. How in the turning Methodist, as he calls it. The world will you entertain them ? " people whòm I have invited are not rich.” “ Well, we shall have music for one
- So much the better. Is that pretty thing." Miss Carlton coming ?".
" Music?" “No; al my guests are plain,” said Mrs. " Yes." Hilton.
" A barrel-organ, and Old Dog Tray,'” - All plain? What a stupid arrange said Henry; “ nothing higher would suit.” ment!” exclaimed Henry. “However, I “ I beg your pardon. Something higher suppose they are clever?".
will suit, as you may find, --if you come. * Not particularly; indeed, I fear somo You see I have had one of the pianos of them are dull."
brought in." " Poor, plain, and dull!” cried Henry. “ You are insane," said Henry. "Does 66 Whom in the world have you invited ? Hilton know all this?"
His sister waited a few moments before “Not yet, for the letter in which I anshe answered, “ The lame, the halt, and nounced my intention of giving a 'party' the blind. Will you come and meet to-night could not reach Constantinople
until the day after to-morrow; but I am - Not if I know it! Is it possible that quite sure he will approve." you are in earnest?"
"It is more than I should if you held rss Quite possible. I never was less dis my purse!” said Henry; “but Hilton posed to quote Scripture in jest than now. has been rather soft since his motlier died, About a score of honest and industrious, poor fellow!” but sorely afflicted persons, of humble rank, "What do you mean by 'soft'? asked will take tea here this evening."