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“Yes, but perhaps there'll be time for THE HEDGE OF THORNS.

me just to run with


letter.' (Continued from p. 123.)

‘Not, I'm sure, if you have learned none

of your lessons yet.' CHAPTER III.

"I'll go, mother,' said Harry, starting ATURDAY came, and even

up. Only then, Clement, you must do the Clement's spirits revived tool-house without me—at least if I'm not under the bright spring back till dinner-time; Mrs. Booth so often sunshine and the holiday keeps one.' freedom.

“And I want an answer to the note,' said Remember, James is

Mrs. Harley. Just finish your lessons to call for us directly after

first, and then you will be sure of them. dinner; you'll be ready, And you, Clement, set about yours, too; if won't you?' said Harry, there's the tool-house to make neat, there's getting out his own lesson

no time to be lost, and you know how books.

Simpson dislikes everything being turned O yes,' was the easy answer, 'there's upside-down. Remember, you've had all the lots of time yet,' and Clementturned another seeds and everything about this morning; page of his darling Robinson Crusoe.

you must take care and leave all quite • I don't know, it's getting on,' said Harry, neat, for it's Sunday to-morrow, you and there's the tool-house to set to rights. know.' Simpson will be home again on Monday, So Clement got down his lesson-books, and will make ever such a fuss if we leave and stretching himself full-length on the it in a mess: and it's just as likely as not sofa opened his Latin Grammar at the right mother may send us on an errand; she often place. He did not learn very much, howdoes on a Saturday morning, doesn't she ?'

ever, a long-drawn gape interrupted him • What a fidget you are!' cried Clement,

every now and then, and his attention good-humouredly enough, but with a little would keep wandering off to the pattern worried shake of the shoulders. " It will of the paper on the wall, or to Tartar, be all right.'

where he lay basking in the sun upon the 'You'll help me with the tool-house ?' mat before the French window. Harry

Yes, of course; now do be quiet for a had soon finished his work, and began to bit, will you ?'

put his books tidily away. Clement, said Mrs. Harley, looking in You'll not forget the tool-house,' he shortly afterwards, 'I want you to run for said to his brother. "You know how we me with a note to Mrs. Booth's.'

upset the shelves looking for the seeds and Clement dragged himself up from the labels. I shall have no time when I get easy-chair in which he was lolling, and back, I'm sure.' put down his book.

Oh, I'll do it, honour bright,' was • But you are learning your lessons ?' Clement's ready assurance. 'It's only fair, 'No, mother.'

if you go the errand instead of me.' They are learned then, I hope ? Didn't “And you'll lock the door, and hang the you say you had fixed to go out with James key in its place ?' Barlow in the afternoon ?'

Yes, yes, YES!' shouted Clement after


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Simpson's anger, came to cloud the pleasure of that bright Saturday afternoon. The boys came home late and tired, but full of delight with their successful excursior; they had got several kinds of eggs they particularly wanted for their collections, and a fair division of the spoil had to be made before James left them. It was not till he was gone that Clement missed Tartar, and inquired what had become of him: no one seemed to know, but Mr. Harley had seen him in the garden during the evening.

• Just before you lads came in,' he answered to Clement's eager question. But never mind him now, I'll see after him tonight; it's time you were in bed, so off with you, there's a good boy.'

Clement obeyed, little dreaming of the trouble that awaited him in the morning, the sharpest wound he had yet bad to suffer from his cruel Hedge of Thorns.

(To be continued.)

him. What a fussy, precise old woman you are! Come here, Tartar.'

Tartar's muzzle was quickly in his young master's hand, and the presence of his favourite did not help Clement much with his lessons. The clock on the mantle-shelf striking the half-hour gave him a start.

"Oh, dear! there's the tool-house ! and I don't even know my grammar!' he cried. "Well, I must have my lessons perfect, I daren't risk them : and if I haven't time for those horrid garden things before dinner, I must settle them after we come home in the evening.

But if I buckle-to now I shall manage all before Harry is back.' '

And for once- - with the shadow of the cribbed’exercise still upon him-he did 'buckle-to;' and when the dinner-bell rang he could run off gaily to wash his hands, for all was ready for Monday. There was the tool-house, to be sure, but that did not trouble him greatly; it was only a matter of cutting their expedition short by halfan-hour; or of running home a bit faster than James and Harry.

Dinner was over and the boys were ready to start.

Come along, Tartar, old boy,' called out Clement.

No, it'll never do to take him,' said James Barlow. He'd frighten the birds ; and besides, they'd be making a row if we took a dog into woods and places.'

Poor old fellow! Then you must be left behind, must you?' And Clement patted Tartar's head fondly, and, not without much reluctance, shut him up safe somewhere while they got the start.

It's not half the fun without dear old Tartar,' he said to himself regretfully; but in the heat of egg-collecting the absent pet was at last forgotten.

And the tool-house was forgotten, too. No thought of the disorder there, or of




N the Holy Land they did not sit at

meat on chairs, as we do, but they lay on benches or sofas, with their faces towards the table, and their feet towards the wall. This must have been the way in which our Saviour was lying, when the woman came behind Him, and washed His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head, and poured the ointment on them. When St. John was leaning on the bosom of Jesus, and asked Him who it was that should betray Him, they must have been seated, or lying, in the same way. If the master of a feast wished to show honour to any persons at the table, he sent them some of his own dish, as when Joseph sent meat to his brothers from the dish before biu.

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THE TWO MARTYRS. IN a dark dungeon many hundred years this sad place. His face looked peaceful

ago stood a noble Roman boy, waiting and happy, although he knew that tofor To-morrow. The golden light of the morrow he would be taken into the theatre, setting sun shone brightly on his prison and there, before hundreds of his old friends frock, making it almost as gay as the and acquaintances, be torn in pieces by beautiful dress he wore before he came into wild and hungry beasts. Would you, dear children, have looked as happy, do you think? ing after Sunday evening to this happy You, who cry perhaps at the sting of a place. This particular night he had just wasp, complain when your Sunday frock is safely, as he thought, reached the end of not so fine as you would like it to be, or the narrow and gloomy lane which led to when there is no cake for tea, should you the Mission-room, when, with savage shouts, have looked so happy with prison dress, four boys, Bob and Harry and two others, prison fare, and the thoughts of such a rushed out of a dark passage, and threw death? This Roman boy was so happy four big stones at little Tom's head, and because he was a Christian, and going to

then ran away. suffer shame and death for Jesus' sake; and When little Tom awoke again the sun when next day, before many thousands of shone brightly into a large and cheerful heathen Roman people, he was torn in room; texts in many pretty colours were on pieces by the lions, God gave him strength the walls and a gentle-looking woman was from Heaven to bear the dreadful pain, walking round from bed to bed, for little and He took his happy soul to Heaven to Tom was in an hospital. He was terribly join the glorious and noble army of mar- bruised and hurt, and he lay, after the tyrs, of whom we sing in our beautiful Te policeman had found him and brought him Deum.

to the hospital, for many days unconscious, Many, many hundred years later, a poor, and, as the doctors thought, dying: but little, half-starved boy, was creeping slowly little Tom did not die; his time was not out of a Mission-room, in one of the most yet come; God had more work for him to neglected and dirty parts of London-a part do; and in the hard-working, zealous City so bad that no one but the clergy, mission- missionary, who thinks no court or no alley aries, and doctors, dared to venture there. too bad, too dirty, or too lost, for him to It was a bare, dull room, under an old go into and tell the people of a Saviour's warehouse, but every Sunday evening a few love, we may find again the little martyr earnest Christians out of the hundreds of Tom.

M. F. heathen who lived around them went there, quietly and cautiously, to hear God's Word.

A GENTLE TEMPER. They went cautiously, because of the jeers and jibes and possible ill-treatment of their

Tender, merciful, and mild, neighbours. Little Tom had gone there first with an old cobbler, who lived in the

Ready, even to a worm,

Acts of kindness to perform. same house with his drunken mother and himself. First for the warm fire and quiet God is love, and never can comfort, then because he there learnt to Bless or love a cruel man: know and love his Saviour; and, little as Mercy rules in every breast, he

was, he had made up his mind to be a Where the Spirit is a guest. Christian boy.

We ourselves to mercy owe Tom's mates, Bob and Harry, found out

Our escape from endless woe, one evening where Tom was gone, and from

And the merciless in mind that time there was no peace for him : jeers,

Shall themselves no mercy find. threats, taunts and abuse, were heaped upon him; but still little Tom crept Sunday even

SWEET is it to see a child,

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