see you are sorry for your naughty conduct," I replied, instantly stooping down to press a kiss on his open, noble brow. But here roof of home; while I Once more my pen was resumed, but, Nurse again. This time she bore in her arms a little figure robed in white, and who is known throughout the esta "Please, Miss Smith, I am sorry have to be troubled so; but Maste Johnny will not go to sleep until he bid you good-night." "From which none ever wake to weep." I had been accustomed to go to the little thing after he was put to bed, 353 give him a good-night kiss. This eve ing, however, I had omitted the ceremony The dear child reached forward for to take him; and, as he nestled down my lap, or twined his fat little ar around my neck, exclaiming with a gea of affection, in his childish vernacula, "I do lub you, I do, bery much!" I could not resist. Every other considers tion sank into insignificance; and I clasped him fondly to my heart, in a long warm embrace. Poor nurse, however, was waiting somewhat impatiently fr her charge, so I was compelled to yiel him up to her for consignment to his little cot; and, as the door closed up her and the bright little face peeping over her shoulder once more, I seized my pen and nervously essayed to write. Bat the fountain was sealed, and I was com pelled to lay it down again. I leaned back in my chair, and with closed eyes, and hands pressed tightly over my fore head, strove to recall the truant ideas. The cozy parlour faded from my view; and, in its stead, rose the favourite haunts in my village home. I was once more in the little room that, when a child, I called "my study." I looked again from the small window on our garden-plot, and the ivy-covered summerhouse in the corner. I even fancied I could discern the form of my mother sitting there at her sewing, and looking up, now and then, to bestow a kind word or smile on my little brother and sister playing near her. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks round and blooming. There were no lines on her brow in those days, but there are now; and, sometimes too, I can discern a sil-a very thread gleaming in her smooth, glossy, brown hair. A gentle shade often mingles with her smile now, but "I would not that efface; To me she is more fair,- But the scene changed with the passing This last-mentioned effort, however, had contrary effect; for, instead of squeezing out thought, it squeezed out pain, re minding me, perhaps, (?) that my brain was not quite so wooden as I supposed it to be, so I was glad to let my hands rest on my lap again. "Oh!" murmured I, wearily, as the clock struck seven, "the evening is slip ping over, and I've done nothing!" The fire was glowing and crackling in the grate, and, as my eyes rested on it, I envied those happy minds who never feel the difficulty of "choosing a subject; who, upon so apparently an idea-less topic as a fire, can contrive to write plea santly and profitably-aye. and could even see "faces" in it, whereas I'm sure I could see nothing but red coals, and smoking coals, and black cinders, and fast dropping ashes. "What shall I do?" thought LA change of scene, or a little brisk accupation for a time might have been beneficial, but the atmosphere of my own room, I knew, would freeze thought is it flowed, and Fancy would never dare to unplume her wings. The drawing room was not to be thought of, for I re-friendship is formed, and the constant membered a certain evening not long ago, intercourse they may for a time enjoy when, on taking my seat at the table to kindles the spark into a flame. But cirwrite, allthe younger branches of the family cumstances occur which necessitate a seseemed immediately to be seized with the paration. Nevertheless, although a disare desire. (Doubtless they obeyed the tance of many hundred miles stretches Letates of their bumps of imitation-between them, in spirit they often meet. which, by-the-way, are unusually large-Warm and kind are the letters interbut which I certainly would have preterred influencing them at a more conveaient time.) Well, I was so beset by the importunate little people requesting paper, pencil, &c., that I determined never to go there again. Even little Johnny, who that evening had been allowed to jin the elder children, was seized with the prevailing mania, and came toddling up to my chair, exclaiming, "Pease, me wants to write;" at the same time giving my sleeve a gentle pull, and thereby effecting a kind of triangular flourish in the centre of my paper, by no means so ornamental as I could have desired. So the drawing-room was not to be thought panions in the desk, and prepared to leave the now chilly room, I thought, how often do other fires beside those made of coals go out for want of stirring. Sometimes, in the occurrences of life, two persons are thrown much into each other's company. Interchange of ideas on different subjects, perhaps, reveals them to be of congenial natures. A of. changed between them, and, for a time the fire burns brightly, but, as the years glide by, and bring no prospect of a re-union, the letters grow fewer and farther between, till at last they cease altogether, and then, for want of stirring (if I may so speak) with memory, faith, hope, and kindness the fire of friendship goes out. Again, a youth as he draws toward manhood, feels kindling within him aspirations after something great and good. The elements of all that is honourable and worthy are springing up within him, and require only energy and will to stir them up into a flame; but, unhappily, he becomes associated with weak-minded indolent companions, and he imbibes their worthless ideas, to the extinction of his own noble ones. Time passes by, and you see him in his manhood vacillating, purposeless, useless. The fire has gone out for want of stirring. The minutes flew by. Eight o'clock came-half-past eight-nine. I rose, determined to puzzle my brain no longer, when-0 wondrous sight!-instead of a cheerful fire meeting my weary gaze, a pazo, chairs, ottoman, &c., presented themselves! By what reversionary law, But, my dear friends, it's cold work atural or supernatural, had my position moralising before a fireless grate, and I been changed? It seems that, although fear the chill that is creeping over me, entally I was incapable of moving, will somehow associate itself with my hysically I certainly was not, for, in my present reflections, therefore I feel sure nervous anxiety during the last hour, Iyou will permit my departure. However, ad actually pushed my chair completely round, and had been sitting "pussy-cat" fashion, with my back to the fire. Of course I was speedily in a proper position, but, alas! the bright, cheerful fire had gone out-died for want of stirring! For want of stirring, did 1 say? Ah! yes. And as I mournfully replaced my unused sheet of paper among its com before I say good-bye, I have a request to make, which is, that whenever you feel the fire of indignation, or ambition, that has not for its purpose something useful and good kindling in your bosom, don't stir it, and it will assuredly die out. But, on the other hand, when from the altar of your heart ascend the pure flames of genius, charity, friendship, and love, let each be fanned and fed with its own congenial element, and, above all things, don't let them die out for "want of stirring!" LUCINDA B. overlooker, tells me your bobbins are always clean. Is that so?" "E'es, master, 't be." "Well, Dick, how do you manage it? Have you any objection to let me know?" "Why, Master Pill, 't be a saort of secret loike, ye see; and if oi told, ť others 'know's moch as oi," replied Dick, with a cunning grin. "Of course, Dick, I'll give you some thing if you'll tell me - and if you can make all the looms in the factory work as smooth as yours." "Every one 'n them, Master Pill." "Well, what shall I give you? Name your price, Dick, and let me have your secret." Cunning Dick grinned, scratched and shook his head, and shuffled for a few minutes, while Mr. Peel anxiously awaited his reply. The cotton lord thought his servant would probably ask a hundred pounds or so, which he would most wi lingly have given him. Presently Dick said, "Well, Master Pill I'll tell 'ee all about it, if you'll give me a quart o' beer a day as long as I'm in the mill you'll save that ten.' "CHALK YOUR BOBBINS." EVERY one knows that Sir Robert Peel, father of the late Prime Minister of England, and grandfather of the present baronet, made his money by the cotton spinning. In the early part of his career his business was not remarkably extensive, but suddenly he made a tremendous start, and soon distanced all his rivals. He grew immensely rich, as we all know, but we do not all know the lucky accident to which he was indebted for his enormous wealth. In the early days of the cotton spinning machinery, a great deal of trouble used to be caused by filaments of cotton adhering to the bobbins, or tapes, which then formed portions of looms. These filaments accumulating soon clogged the wheels and other parts of the machinery, and rendered it necessary that they should be cleaned, which involved frequent stoppages and much loss of time. The great desideratum was to find out some plan of preventing this clogging by the cotton, and Sir Robert, or Mr. Peel, as he was then, spent vast sums in experiments. He employed some of the ablest machinists in the kingdom-among them James Watt-cautiously around to see that no one was who suggested various corrections; but spite of all they could do, the inconvenience remained the cotton would adhere to the bobbins, and the evil appeared to be insurmountable. Of course, these delays seriously affected the wages of the operatives, who, on Saturdays, generally came short in proportion to the stoppages during the previous days. It was noticed, however, that one man always drew his full pay-his work was always accomplished; in fact, his loom never had to stop, while every other in the factory was idle. Mr. Peel was informed of this, and knew there must be a secret somewhere. It was important that it should be discovered if possible. The man was watched, but all to no purpose. His fellow-handsomely. workmen tried to "pump" him, but they couldn't. At last Mr. Peel sent for the man into his private office. He was a rough Lancashire man, unable to read or write-little better indeed than a mere animal. He entered the presence pulling his forelock, and shuffling on the ground with his clumsy great wooden shoes. "Dick," said Mr. Peel, "Ferguson, the Mr. Peel rather thought he should, and quickly agreed to the terms. "You shall have it, Dick; and a halfgallon every Sunday into the bargain." "Well, then," said Dick, first looking near-"this it be;" and, putting his lips close to Mr. Peel's ear, he whispered, "Chalk your bobbins!” That, indeed, was the great secret. Dick had been in the habit of furtively chalking his bobbins, which simple contrivance had effectually prevented the adhesion of the cotton. As the bobbins were white, the chalking escaped detection. Mr. Peel was a sagacious man, and saw through the affair at a glance. He at once patented the invention, had "chalking" machinery contrived, and soon took the lead in the cotton spinning department. This was the fourdation of his princely fortune. It but right to add that he pensioned off Dick THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK.-Think twice; think what to speak, how to speak, when to speak, to whom to speak; and withal hold up your head, and look the person to whom you are speaking full in the face with modest dignity and assurance. Some lads have a foolish, sheepish bashfulness, shear off, hold down their heads and eyes, as if they were guilty of sheep stealing! Never be ashamed to do right. BOOKS WORTH BUYING. THERE are books and books. Some of handsomely got up volumes belonging valuable as works of reference, and "with- to the series entitled BOOKS WITH A MEANING. out which no library can be complete;" some overloaded with erudition, and others merely amusing; a large number that They are published by Messrs. Hogg really do justify the stereotyped phrase, and Sons, at 3s. 6d. each; and are uniand "combine amusement with instruc- formly well printed on good paper, adtion;" and not a few that are neither in- mirably illustrated with wood engravstructive nor amusing, but simply worth-ings on separate pages, and intelligently less. Some books are made to be read, written by popular authors. The titles of others only to be looked at on a drawing-some of them will give an idea of the room table; some are welcomed as old general scope of the design. Thus we and tried friends, others are received with have "Links in the Chain," chapters on civility as mere passing acquaintances. the curiosities of animal life; "Leaves An instant's glance at a new book usually from English History," "Half-hours with informs the reader to which class it be- the Sacred Poets," "Flowers of Christian longs. Again, there are books which Chivalry," and "Our Untitled Nobility." many buy but few read thoroughly; such, The last volume, by Mr. J. Tillotson, for instance, as Guide Books, Directories, comprises well-compiled biographies of Almanacks, and Annuals; while, on the William Smith, the father of English other hand, there are volumes that are geology; Marshall Hall, the Two Brunels, largely read, but not often purchased. William Scoresby, the sailor clergyman; In this latter class are to be found the Thomas Raikes, the founder of Sundaymajority of the three volume novels schools; Captain Coram, the philanpatronized by Mr. Mudie and the other thropic projector of that noble charity great book-lenders. In fact, books have the Foundling Hospital; Thomas Dick, as many characteristics as their readers. the author of the "Christian PhilosoEvery genuine book is, more or less, a pher;" and others. The writer has made part of its writer-a bit of his life and his selections with much taste, especially way of thinking, translated into words as his materials were occasionally rather and given to the world. scanty. For instance, no biography of Dr. Dick having appeared, many facts in his life were unpublished, and consequently unavailable. The last edition of his "Christian Philosopher" was edited, and many new subjects introduced, by George F. Pardon; but as this is not stated on the title page of the book, it could not well have been known to Mr. Tillotson; and so with several others. But all that is stated is correct, though some slight omissions may as well be Novelty soon wears off jewellery, rib-made good in the next edition of our bons, gloves, and embroidered braces, "Untitled Nobility." but a pretty book may be taken up again and again with renewed delight. And as there are books worth reading, though you only borrow them, so there are books worth buying and reading, and keeping and prizing-books which to handle only is a pleasure, and to present as souvenirs is happiness to both giver and receiver. And, the best of it is, that such books are not usually very high priced. A well-printed, well-bound, and interesting volume, is about the best gift we know of. We have pleasure in drawing the attention of our friends and readers, from time to time, to some few "Books Worth Buying." Lying before us are a number | Of similar character are many of |