every honest boy in the school. All shook hands with Tom, and even Dick got some portion of pity.

94. I wish I had room to give my readers the moving exhortation which the master gave on this occasion. But while Mr. Wilson left the guilty boy to the management of the master, he thought it became him as a minister and a magistrate to go to the extent of the law in punishing the father.

95. Early on Monday morning, therefore, he sent to apprehend Giles. In the mean time, Mr. Wilson himself was sent for to a gardener's house, two miles distant, to attend a man who was dying. This was a duty to which all others gave way in his mind.

96. He set out directly, but what was his surprise, on his arrival, to see, in a little bed, on the floor, poaching Giles, lying in all the agonies of death! Jack Weston, a poor young man, whom Giles had once very much injured, was kneeling by him, offering him some broth, and talking to him in the kindest manner.

97. Mr. Wilson begged to know the meaning of all this, and Jack Weston spake as follows: "At four this morning, as I was walking out to mow, passing under the high wall of this garden, I heard a most pitiful moaning. The nearer I came, the more dismal it grew. At last, whom should I see but poor Giles, groaning and struggling under a quantity of bricks and stone, but not able to stir.

98. "The day before, he had marked a fine large net, on this old wall, and resolved to steal it;

for he thought it might do as well to catch partridges, as to preserve cherries; so, sir, standing on the very top of this wall, and tugging with all his might, to loosen the net from the hooks which fastened it, down came Giles, net, wall and all; for the wall was gone to decay.

99." It was very high indeed, and poor Giles not only broke his thigh, but has got a terrible blow on his head, and is bruised all over like a mummy. On seeing me, sir, poor Giles cried out, “O Jack! I did try to ruin thee, and now thou wilt be revenged, by letting me lie here and perish."

100. "God forbid, cried I; thou shalt now see, Giles, what sort of revenge a christian takes. So, sir, I sent off the gardener's boy to fetch a surgeon, while I ran home, and brought on my back this bit of a hammock, which is indeed my own bed, and put Giles upon it. We then lifted him up, bed and all, as tenderly as we could, and brought him in here.

101. "My wife has just come, and brought him a drop of nice broth, and now, sir, as I have done what I could for this poor perishing body, it was I who took the liberty to send for you to come to try to help his poor soul, for the Doctor says he can't live."

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102. Mr. Wilson could not help saying to himself, Such an action as this is worth a volume of comments on that precept of our blessed Master, "Do good to them that hate you.” Giles' dying groans confirmed the sad account Weston had just given. The poor wretch could

neither pray himself, nor attend to the minis.

ter.

103. He could only cry out, " Oh, sir, what will become of me? I don't know how to repent. Oh my poor wicked children! sir, I have bred them all up in sin and' ignorance. Have mercy on them, sir; let me not meet them in the place of torment to which I am going." He languished a few days, and died in the greatest misery.

104. Except the minister and Jack Weston, no one came to see poor Giles, besides Tom Price, who had been so sadly wronged by him. Tom often brought him his own rice and milk, or apple dumpling, and Giles, ignorant and depraved as he was, often cried out, that he thought now there must be some truth in religion, since it taught even a boy to deny himself, and to forgive an injury.

105. Mr. Wilson, the next Sunday, made a moving discourse on the danger of what are called petty offences. This, together with the awful death of Giles, produced such an effect, that many sinners were hopefully brought to repentance, and became serious and good men.

THE YOUNG COTTAGER.

1. On a warm Summer's day, as Rose, a poor girl, sat singing at her wheel, in the shade of the wood, she heard a deep groan among the trees-She stopped her wheel and for a moment

listened; but all being still, she went on with her work.

2. In a few minutes she again heard a groan, as of a person in distress. She started up, and went towards the place, to discover the occasion of the sound but having looked about some time without success, she returned to her work.

3 Again the sound saluted her ears, and she resolved to find the cause. Pursuing a narrow, winding path, she at length beheld an old man, in the agonies of distress, stretched on the ground, and his head supported by the roots of

a tree.

4. The tender-hearted Rose hastened to him, and stooping down, attempted to raise his head into her lap upon which the poor man faintly spake the word water. Rose guessed by this, that he wanted drink, and ran to her father's cottage, where she took her bowl of new milk, and brought it to the poor suffering old man. He drank freely, and was soon refreshed, so as to be able to thank Rose for her kindness.

5. Rose then asked him, how he came to be ir. that situation? He replied, that on his way from New-York to Hartford, he was seized with a vio lent fever, and lay sick for several days, in which time, all his money was spent.

6. After this, his landlord would no longer take care of him, and being obliged to travel, before he had gained his strength, he was soon fatigued, and almost fainted, being just able to crawl into the shade of the woods..

7. When the compassionate girl heard this

story, she ran home, and brought some brown bread, which was all her father's cottage afforded. This she softened with milk, and sitting down by his side, fed him with it.

8. He soon revived, so as to be able to walk to a shed, which some workmen had raised, in the neighbourhood. Here he lay down upon the straw, while Rose went to inform her father, who had just come home.

9. Rose entreated her father to assist the poor old man, and give him a bed, till he should be well enough to go on his journey. "Give him

a bed," said her father, "this would be a fine thing, indeed! What will the town say, when my own family becomes a charge to them? I am sure we are poor enough already, and want help more than we are able to give it."

10. 66 But," said Rose, " our minister tells us to do all the good we can, and pity those that are in distress. "Yes, yes," said, the father "he should preach that to rich folks. Poo folks have nothing to give. It is well if we can maintain ourselves, and not come upon the town."

11. "But father," said Rose, "it will cos us but little to let the miserable old man lodg a few nights in the house; and besides, the Scripture says, that God will return us fourfol what we give to the poor."

12. "O fie, child," answered the old chur "let me hear no more of your helping the poor We are poor enough ourselves." At this, th kind girl burst into tears, and said "I am sur sir, if you could only see how very poor th