some minnow gives the bait a slight touch, and then quickly dives out of sight, half frightened at his own escape!

Now a still more venturesome chub goes up, views the tempting morsel from every side, then makes a mouthful of it, gives it a jerk and attempts to swim away,-but, he is caught, and tossed on the grass to die. The other fishes all hide themselves quick as a thought, when they see the unfortunate one snatched from the water; but they as soon forget warning, and the next moment they are ready to run the same risks as before. And so, one after another is caught, until the fisher-boy has a great string of them as the reward for his patience and dexterity.

Little boys and girls may learn a lesson from the silly fishes. Never trifle with temptation; flee from it at once. Never allow yourselves to be deceived by honeyed words or dazzling gifts-there may be a hidden hook there.

RESTING, one serene day in summer time, I chanced to loiter awhile in a hill-side church-yard, near a quiet village in the West. Alone, I wandered leisurely around among the little graves, and the long graves, reading and meditating over the different inscriptions on strangers' head-stones. I was far from home, and every name I read was to me an unknown name. No one was there to tell me of the sleeping dead. All was quiet; all was still.

It was a sad and silent spot-the place of burials, yet beautiful. The gentlest airs of summer breathed low, sweet music through the willows there. I was not lonely, for the bright flowers smiled all around, the grass was fresh and green beneath my feet, and the little birds were skipping about and singing right over the graves! While I was standing beside a very little new-made mound, over which the grass had not yet spread its covering of green, a child, with bright, curling ringlets, and large, dark eyes, came running toward me, and as soon as she reached the little grave by my side, she took my hand, and looking at me with a sweet, innocent smile, said:

"Lillie is not here. She's gone home. Angels took sister Lillie."

"And did you come to tell me that Lillie is not here?"

I asked.

"Yes, sir," she said, with a hopeful, earnest look, such as a child-like trust can alone reveal, "Lillie's gone AWAY UP HIGH!" and pointing upward, repeated, thoughtfully, "AWAY UP HIGH!"

O! if we could only look upon death as did that little child! She had not gone to the grave to weep, but to tell a stranger that Lillie was not there, but had gone "away up high.'

She thought not of the cold, gloomy grave, but of life and glory beyond. Others, older than she, might weep for the little missing one, but she looked smilingly "away up high!" and her thought was of Lillie in heaven. Dear, sweet, faithful child, may you never learn to "fret against the Lord."

I have often thought, since then, that the favorite hymn,

"There is a happy land,

Far, far away,"

may teach the little ones who sing it, that heaven is out of sight; yet the children may well claim

66 — a happy land,"

Near, near at hand,

for happiness and peace are ever near to the good.

LITTLE BELIEVERS.

THE Christian religion is adapted to the little ones. The young children are embraced in its promises, addressed in its teachings, and may enjoy its comforts.

Religion is life, and peace, and joy. Why should we burden the story of the cross with so many gloomy thoughts of death and the grave? Children love life. It is sweet for them to think of living. Better teach them how to live; for the promises of religion are long life and happiness.

Too many of our juvenile books tell the same sad stories. A good little boy who loves his teacher, and is ever kind and obedient, is always made to die and be buried up in the cold ground, by some over-wise authors and story-tellers in the little books!

We once heard a little boy say, after he had been saddened by the dying pages of a Sunday-school book, “I don't want to be good-all good little boys die!"

Let us teach the children that to be good is to live. Far wiser to tell them how to live and do good to the living among the living-how to practice the religion we all profess. We must live well, and hope for long life here, for this is the best world we shall find this side of heaven. If we teach the rising race how to rise up into

the life and joy of the Christian believer, we are teaching them the upward way to God and eternal peace. If we live right, there will be no trouble about the dying. It will be but dropping the body into sweet repose, and letting the soul go on up home to heaven.

Wait till

Not long ago we read a story like this: One day a little boy ten years old asked his father if he might join the church. He said he loved the Saviour, and wished he might be among the people of God. "Oh,' said the father, "you are too young. you are older." Now, this boy's father was a shepherd; and it was the little boy's duty to herd the sheep and lambs; that is, to gather them in the folds at night, so that the wolves and wild beasts might not harm them. One night his father said to him, as usual, "My son, have you gathered them all in?" "I believe so." "All?are you quite sure?" "Oh, I have got them all in except that little lamb that is so young and weak; I thought I would leave him out now, and bring him in when he grew older, and got a little stronger!" The reproof went to the father's heart. Before long that little boy joined the church.

This little story was related, a short time ago, in a Sabbath-school meeting, and it moved one little girl, who felt that she loved the Saviour, but was too young to join the church. The last we heard of her was that she had come out and professed the name of Christ before the world.