ther to buy me any such things;" and the tears fell thick and fast as he returned to his home.

Charlie had a kind sister who loved him very much, and who did everything she could to make him happy. But this sister lived many miles

played before Brian Boroo, he had our old hatching hen in his mouth! He laid down his load when he was full before us, and barked a short, sharp bark—as much as to say-The back of my hand to you!' then turned round with a wag of his tail at us, as if he would say 'Come now ye spal-away, in another village, and could go to visit peens, and hunt me,' and that's the last we ever saw of him."

From this instance, Nick always maintained, that the cunning of a fox was more than a match for the art of man. "And shure you know," he used to say "there's nothing bates the art of man except the bees, but my word for it,-bees or men are fools to foxes."

WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE DILGRIM.

BLUE VIOLETS.

BY NANNIE.

I have sought you in the meadows 'Neath the sky of Spring so mild, With eager eye and ready hand, When I was but a child;

And as Time creeps on and onward, And the swift years glide away, My love for you, sweet Violets, Grows stronger day by day,

When the April sun shone brightly,

On the fields and pastures green, Then, peeping upward from the grass, Were the dear blue Violets seen.

And when in the soft May morning
Our footsteps brushed the dew,
Then all the fields were thickly strewn
With the flowers of the Violets blue.

And I love you for the memory,
Of my childhood's happy hours,
That you bring in your modest beauty,
My darling little flowers.

WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

THE NEW SLED.

BY GRANITA.

Near a small village in New England, one Saturday afternoon, a party of merry boys were engaged in coasting.

Charlie only two or three times in a year. She was at that time going to visit him, and thought the prettiest present she could carry him, would be a sled. She bought one which was painted a bright red color, with stripes of yellow and blue around it, and the name "Charlie," painted in yellow letters on each side of it.

WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

THE ZEPHYR'S MISSION.

BY ROSA MYRTLE.

One hot summer morning, while the warm sunbeams fell unresistingly over the famishing earth, a little zephyr awoke among the buds and flowers, exclaiming, "Now I'll be off, and try what good poor little I can do." So it sped along, whispering gaily among the leaflets, and pausing a moment to gossip with each little daisy and buttercup, till it found itself flying among the plants and trees of a rich farmer's garden, merrily shaking the green fruit on their branches, and waking the leaves into life and song. Pausing in the boughs of a green locust, it thought that there was no good to be done there, but just then it spied a little rose which had been forgotten by the gardener, and whose petals were withering for the want of a nourishing drop to revive them. The zephyr dashed from among a cluster of green leaves, a dew-drop, which the sunbeams in their morning search had not drank. The rose looked up gratefully, as it re

This unkind remark did not spoil Charlie's sport, for he could now join in the race with the swiftest, and his laugh was heard ringing out merrily among the merriest.

Little Frederic How stood looking at the party of boys, this afternoon, as Charlie had done the week previous, wishing in his heart, that he too, could have a sled. But his mother was a poor widow, and could buy her little boy nothing but the necessaries of life. As Charlie returned to the top of the hill to prepare to descend again, he saw his little companion's sad face peeping at his new sled, from behind a group of larger boys.

"Hop on to my sled behind me, Freddy," said Charlie, it is large enough for us both, hold tightly to me, and away we'll go." And away they did go, passing many of the larger boys, for Charlie's light, bird-like looking little sled, sped swiftly over the snow, down the hill, and half way across the meadow, "like a thing of life." "What a nice time we are having!" said Freddy, as again they descended the hill. "Yes," said Charlie, "wasn't my sister kind to get me just the thing I wanted most?" "I wish I had a sister," said Freddy. "Never mind," replied Charlie," you shall use my sled when I don't want it, and when I come out here to coast you may come with me, we'll always slide together."

Just then a renewed shout of laughter was

To the top of the long hill they drew their sleds, then guiding them by a strong cord, they descended the hill together, each striving to make his own sled go swiftest and farthest. Loud shouts of merriment burst from the happy group as they passed and repassed each other, in ascend-heard from the larger boys. Henry Smith's sled ing or descending the hill. Sometimes a luckless boy would be thrown from his misguided sled, into the snow headlong, which would cause louder expressions of glee.

Charlie C- stood at the top of the hill near the place from whence the boys started; with a sad face and tearful eyes he watched the joyous lads. "How happy I should be," thought he, "if I could have a sled." As one of the larger boys approached him, he said timidly, "Please Henry let me take your sled for one slide, I must go home soon, and have not had one slide yet.

“No,” said Henry, roughly, “I want it myself, why don't you have one of your own?" and before the disappointed little boy could reply, Henry was nearly at the foot of the hill again; not for a moment thinking of the pain his thoughtless unkindness had caused the little orphan Charlie.

had struck upon a rock, which was partially covered by the snow; the sled was broken and Henry was thrown headlong into the snow. He rose slowly, and brushing the snow from his clothes, looked sorrowfully at his broken sled.

"I am glad of it,” thought Charlie, "he would not let me take it last week, and to-day said my new sled would be easily broken." But the good angel whispered in Charlie's ear, "that is wrong' When Henry came dragging his broken vehicle, to the place where Charlie and Freddy were standing. Charlie said to him, “Henry, I am sorry for your accident; you may take my sled awhile if you wish, Freddy and I will rest a few minutes "

Henry was surprised, and said, "Thank you Charlie, you are a better boy than I am, for I would not lend you my sled last Saturday. I am sorry now I did not."

Charlie turned his steps towards home, his little heart swelling with grief. "If my father had not died, he would have bought me as pretty a sled as any one has; but I have no father or mo-giving spirit?

was gone had glided noiselessly away, thinking of its first errand. It flew still swifter, on and on, till it saw peeping among the green hills a little white church, and then a whole village, with its houses, and gardens, and shops, and stores, and a great, tall, dull-looking school-house, just at the edge. Just then it saw by the roadside, an old man wiping away the trickling sweat from his brow and cheek. At once it began to gently leap about his face, and play among his silvery locks; and the old man smiled, as the zephyr fanned his furrowed cheek, and refreshed, he leaned on his staff, and slowly walked on his journey.

The zephyr, glad of its morning success, met next a little boy, with a heavy satchel thrown over his shoulder, walking languidly to school, his sunny locks dripping with sweat. The zephyr peeped into his face, and merrily raised his hat, and bore it on with it in its course, leaving little Willie to chase after, laughing and leaping, as the frolicksome zephyr still carried it on, and on, till, oh, it was too bad, but Willie didn't care-it fell right into the middle of a little brook; and the zephyr and hat parted company, the hat sailing boat-like down the stream, with little Willie chasing after, with long poles and sticks, trying to recover it, and the zephyr whisking on its errand. But its merry tone was changed to one of sweet sadness as it peeped into an open window close to where lay a little boy, on a lounge, to catch a breath of air. Softly, the zephyr crept into the room, bearing the perfume of a hundred sweet flowers, that were scattered over the garden. The sick boy raised his head, and a faint smile stole to his thin lips, while a canary that was swinging in a wire cage near his bed, felt the breath, and opened its little throat, and poured forth such a sweet, gushing song of gladness, that a tear moistened his eyelids, and he exclaimed, "Oh, mamma, how sweet," and laid his head back on his pillow, and sank into a gentle slumber.

The little zephyr longed to stay and watch around him, and still fan his fevered cheek, and dance among the sunny curls that surrounded his forehead; but it had many a little commission to perform before it again met its companions in the evening, so it glided swiftly away. Beside a grass-covered grave, sat a little girl, leaning her head against the marble slab. The bright blue eyes were filled with tears, and the cherry lips

then, that there could be no dark day for Eva. But a cloud was rising-her dear, kind mamma was taken ill, and when the Death Angel called her to dwell with God, who can tell how much poor little Eva suffered? Then she left her dear cottage home, where she had always lived with her mother, and went to live with her uncle. But each night and morning, she went to visit the grave in the churhch-yard, and planted sweet flowers over it, and wove garlands, and hung them on the tomb-stone, and wept that her mamma could not be with her. And it is she we see now, with the deep mourning dress, and sad, tear-stained face But she raised her head, and just then the zephyr glided by her, and seemed to whisper a strange story in her ear, the very same lesson her mother had taught her as they wandered together and read the inscriptions on the stones. How it filled her heart, as though it were her mother's voice speaking to her. A long sob-a pleasant smile beaming through her tears, like a sunbeam bursting through dark clouds, and she murmured in child-like, musical tones, "Thy will be done." Oh, the little zephyr was thrice repaid for its labors, and that evening, after the sun had gone down, and all the little zephyrs had sprung up, and were dashing over the earth, the happiest one among them was the one who had been trying to do good all day. METAMORA, ILL.

The following story comes to us as written by a little girl of thirteen. As the production of so youthful a writer, we think it shows much promise. G. G.

WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

THE RAINBOW.

One warm afternoon in September, the sun was shining and the rain falling fast, the grass looked fresh and green, and mother Earth drank in the rain drops as if she were indeed thankful to

the Giver of all good for this timely shower, for it had been very dry. Two little untaught orphan children wandered through one of those beautiful green lanes which surround the City of Mchatting merrily, when Charley, the eldest, a wilful boy of eight years, suddenly stopped, and throwing himself down in the wet grass cried out, "See what a nice bed I've got."

ter,

"Charley, Charley," said Minnie, his little sis

“Oh jump up and see this pretty thing way up in the sky!"

Charley started up, and indeed there was a "pretty thing," as Minnie expressed it, for a most beautiful rainbow had that moment appeared in the

heavens. Minnie was young, and what little she knew was wholly self-taught, so of course she knew nothing of the origin of the rainbow, no not even the name of the Maker. Her father had died when she was a baby, and her broken-hearted mother soon followed him to the grave, leaving with her only sister, her two children, Charley and Minnie, both very young. Lately, however, their aunt had died, and the two children were now looking for a night's shelter from the storm. After gazing intently for a moment upon the rainbow, Charley said, "It looks to me like a proud critter that's just come out to show itself." "Oh, Charley, how can you say so!" involuntarily burst from the lips of Minnie, "It looks to me as if it would like to take care of me, if it could. Oh! it is so pretty."

seven years past an adopted child of a wealthy artist. Not long ago, Mr. Cooper, for that was the artist's name, noticing how much interested she was in his painting, kindly offered canvas and paints to try her skill upon. Gladly did she accept his offer, and now, upon her thirteenth birthday, she has completed her first picture. "Mr. Cooper," said she, quietly, "will you please look at this-I have finished it." He rose hastily and came behind a screen that had hidden her from his view, (for he had not seen her paint) and stood before her picture. He gave one long look at it with a critic's eye, then, turning to her, he said: "It is very beautiful-but where did you get your copy?" "From one of my own sketches, sir," was her prompt reply. He glanced at a rough drawing in her hand, and said, "From that thing you are holding?”

"Yes, sir."

"What did you color it from ?" "The rainbow."

Mr Cooper waited to hear no more, but took his hat and left the house, muttering "What a genius the child has !”’

"There, that is the young lady who paints with Mr. Cooper-uncle, turn quick, there she is in front of us!" exclaimed a young man to his elderly companion, who, upon seeing who it was, walked hastily up to her, and putting out his hand said, "My dear Miss Loring-Minnie-how are you?"

"Oh, very well, I thank you, sir.”

"Why, really I should not have known you, had it not been for Edward Lansing here, my nephew, (I think I introduced you to him some time ago,) you have grown so let me see-it is five years since we met-or nearly. Don't you remember I was the purchaser of your rainbowpainting?" "But this fellow here," he added, patting Edward's shoulder, "made me give it up to him, last New Year's was a year, and I verily believe he considers it sacred, so very carefully he keeps it." Minnie blushed, and so did Edward, but the old gentleman changed the conversation, and began speaking of Mr. Cooper, whom he had heard from but a few days previous, and a few minutes after this chance meeting in the street, he found himself still in company with Minnie and Edward, on the road to Mr. Cooper's.

In a large and elegant house on one of the principal streets of M—, live Minnie and Edward Lansing. Two years have wrought but slight change in their faces, and none in their hearts. Their house is adorned with many beautiful pictures from the hand of Minnie, yet amongst them

all, there is not one they prize more than the "Rainbow painting."

WATERLOO, Nov. 10th, 1854.

WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

BAD COMPANY.

"O, mother, I didn't say so, indeed I didn't," said Fanny, looking up pitifully into her mother's face, while the big tears rolled down her cheeks. "Do believe me; I wouldn't do such a thing for the world."

'You'd better get out of the way, lazy-bones.' He saw us, and I know by the sorrowful way in which he looked up, he thought it was I that said it. Oh, what shall I do, now he is dead, and I never shall see him to tell him the truth about it. Mother, am I to blame?"

"Only, dear Fanny, for being with Robert and Dick and their sisters, when I told you never to play with them, but to go back in the schoolhouse if they joined you. You ought not to have been with them for a moment."

"O, mother, I am so sorry. Will Miss Margaret ever believe me?"

I hope so, dear Fanny, though she told me it was you who so cruelly insulted her father, and he never knew to the contrary."

It was a sad day to Fanny. She was a good child, and always respected the aged, and would not, for worlds, have insulted a sick, feeble old man; and now Mr. Knight, the old minister who had always loved her, died without knowing she was innocent. She tried to dry her tears, and went with her mother to the parsonage, and there told Miss Knight her story. Miss Margaret said that if Fanny had not been a truthful child she could not have believed her, for the sound appeared to come from the very spot where she stood.

It was many weeks and months before Fanny could forget that her old friend and pastor died believing that she had insulted his age and feebleness, and that only the day before his death.

She paid dearly for being found in bad company, and from that sad day has been very careful to associate only with good, obedient children, lest she share their bad name and be led into sin. A.

WRITTEN FOR THE

LITTLE PILGRIM.

THE BLUE BEYOND.

BY MARIE S. LADD.

I wandered alone at day's decline,

When the earth was fair and bright,
And smiled on her gifts from the band divine,
But my soul was sad, and my heart a shrine,
For grief with its cankering blight.

A child from a cottage came out to smile
On me as I passed him by ;
Said 1, "little boy, pray linger awhile,
You are fair, and happy, and free from guile,
And faith beams soft in your eye.

"Will you tell me where love and trust are found, In an indissoluble bond?

I have vainly sought them the world around."
He lifted his eyes from the flower-decked ground,
To the hazy blue beyond.

"I am robbed of all that was joy and light,

Of hopes that were fair and fond,”—
He raised his eyes that were blue and bright,
Mine rested afar their aching sight

With his, in the blue beyond.

Was the child an angel that came with the dew?

I wot not, but this I know,

I have found a hope in the distant blue,
'Twill lead me aright, and carry me through
To the land where I long to go.

In writing as well as speaking, one great secret of effective eloquence is, to say what is proper, and stop when you have done.

A good jest, in time of misfortune, is food and drink. It is strength to the arm, digestion to the stomach, and courage to the heart.-Ware.

Good brreding is benevolence in trifles, or the preference of others to ourselves in the daily occurrences of life.-Lord Chatham.

a long way round, to avoid it. Offero was astonished at this proceeding, and demanded why his new master behaved in such a manner.

For a long time Satan refused to answer, but Offero, who never allowed himself to be trifled with, threatened to quit the service he was in, unless his master cleared up the mystery. Thus constrained the Fiend replied

"Upon that Cross died JESUS CHRIST; and when I behold it I tremble, and must fly, for HIM I fear."

Offero was now greatly perplexed, and he exclaimed, "Then this JESUS, whom thou fearest, must be mightier than thou. I will leave thee; and HIM only will I serve." And with these words, Offero took leave of the Devil, and once again set out on his travels This time his search was longer; and Offero was growing weary, when one day he espied the cell of a holy hermit; and knocking at the door, he told his story, and entreated the hermit to direct him on his way. Then the hermit, perceiving the ignorance of the giant, began to instruct him, saying

"This King, whom thou seekest, is indeed the Great King of Heaven and Earth; and if thou wouldst serve Him truly, thou must conform to his will, and perform duties that may seem hard

to thee."

"Let me know what these duties are," replied the giant.

"Thou must fast often," returned the monk. "Nay, that will not suit me," exclaimed Offero; for, if I fast, I shall lose my strength; and it is with all my strength that I wish to serve this mighty King."

"Then thou must pray," resumed the monk. "I know nothing of praying," said the giant, "and I am slow to learn. Is there nothing else I can do ?"

which he had built himself of boughs, by the river side, a voice called to him from the shore. It was the plaintive voice of a child, and it seemed to say, "Offero come forth, and carry me over!" And he arose and looked out, but seeing no one, he lay down again to rest; but the voice called to him a second and a third time, in the same words; and the third time he took his lantern and searched diligently, thinking it a piteous thing for a child to be wayfaring all alone in the dark night. And at length he discovered a little child sitting on the bank, who besought him, saying, "Offero carry me over this night." And Offero lifted the child on to his broad shoulders, and, taking his palm-tree staff, entered the stream. And now the waters rose higher and higher, and the wind roared, and the river broke into great waves, as if it had been the ocean, so that the hurricane was a mightier one than he had ever before beheld. Moreover, in proportion as the storm arose, the infant on his shoulder became heavier and heavier, so that Offero, who had often borne grown men in his arms, as others did little children, felt himself tottering beneath his wondrous burthen. Nevertheless, taking courage, and putting out all his strength, and supporting himself as well as he could with his palm staff, he at length reached the opposite shore. But when he had laid the little child down safely and gently, he looked at him with curious astonishment, and said

"Who art thou, child, that hath placed me in such peril? Had I carried the whole world on my shoulders, the burthen could not have been heavier!"

And the child replied, "Wonder not, for thou hast not only borne the world, but Him who made the world, upon thy shoulders. Me wouldst thou serve in this thy work of charity; and be

"There is one thing thou mightest do. Know est thou yon great river, stony, and dark, and deep, and often swelled by the rains, and wherein many people perish who attempt to pass over?" "I know it."

Since, then," said the hermit, "thou wilt not fast, and knowest not how to pray, go thou to that river, and employ thy strength to aid and save those who struggle with the stream, and those who are about to perish. Haply this service shall prove acceptable to the Holy King whom thou wouldst have for Master; and, seeing that thou art willing to do what thou canst to please Him, He may manifest himself to thee, and

teach thee what else to do."

And now Offero replied joyfully, "This I will do. It is a service that pleaseth me well."

So he did as the hermit directed him. And he dwelt by the side of the river; and he rooted up a palm tree, out of a neighboring forest, to be a staff to support him when he waded through the stream; for, so tall and stout was the kindhearted giant, that nothing smaller or weaker would have served him. And thus he passed his time in the work of benevolence that was allotted to him; supporting, with his strong arms, those travelers who, in fording the river, would otherwise have sunk; and carrying the weak ones on his shoulders, dry across the stream. And moreover he had a pleasant word for every one; never "seeming to weary of his task; but, day or night, doing all for love of his unseen Master.

So Offero pleased our blessed Lord, who looked down upon him out of heaven, and who said within himself, "Behold this strong man, who knoweth not yet the way to worship me, yet hath found the way to serve me.

Now after Offero had spent many long days in this toil, one night that he was resting in the hut

mony that I am thus well pleased, plant thou now thy dead staff in the ground, and it shall put forth leaves and fruit."

And Offero did as he was commanded, and behold the dead staff immediately flourished as if it were a living tree, and was covered with clusters of ripe dates; but even while this happened, the wonderful child had vanished.

Then Offero fell on his face, and worshiped CHRIST with fervor and sincerity; for from this moment he was a regenerate man, and knew and understood the mighty power of devotion; that power which ever brings down on the believer strength to do and to endure, as if on the airy ladder of prayer a host of angels descended to guard and guide the servant of God.

With his new knowledge came new duties to the giant. He perceived that he had something more to do, than to devote merely his bodily strength to the service of God. He must bring his mental powers forward in the one great cause. Accordingly he journeyed to Samos, a city of Syria, where he found many fellow Christians, who were being cruelly tortured and persecuted by the heathen population of the place. But the giant greatly comforted and cheered them; and when the ruler of the city inquired who was the new comer, and what his name, the giant answered

66

Formerly my name was Offero the Bearer, but now my name is Christopher, for I have borne Christ. He is my Master, the King over all other kings, the Lord whom I have long been seeking, and whom, having found, I must forever serve."

Then the king of that country, whose name was Dagnus, ordered Christopher to be carried to prison, and used every means to tempt him to deny his Master, and to commit sin. But Christopher prayed for strength to resist evil persua

sions, and he stood firm; had he yielded, he would have fallen back into the power of his old enemy and master, the devil. Again and again they tried to lure him to wickedness, but without avail; and indeed so sweetly did the graces of the Christian character shine in him, that some of the idolatrous people who had been sent to tempt Christopher to wickedness were converted by him to Christianity, and fell down and worshiped Christ.

Then Dagnus the tyrant, finding it impossible to subdue the saint to his will, ordered him to be scourged and tortured, and afterwards beheaded. When Christopher heard his sentence, he neither trembled nor feared, but his countenance lighted up with a glow of joy, as he said

"I will strive to do what I can to serve my glorious Master. How graciously has He accepted my services, and permitted them to increase! First He allowed me to help his people, by saving them from bodily danger in fording the great river; then He taught me how to preach in his name, and bring to Him those sinners who were sent to tempt me to wickedness; and that one soul was of greater worth than a universe of mortal frames. Surely it was his guiding hand that led me to leave the great river; and now He grants me leave to suffer death for his sake, and show by my constancy that the God I serve is not like the gods of the heathen, made of stocks and stones, but the Great God who can save my soul alive, when this human body is destroyed."

And so they led him away to torture and to death. And just before he was beheaded, Christopher knelt down, and, though he was still smarting from the cruel blows he had received, his heart was full of compassion and forgiveness for his tormentors; and as he knelt, he prayed that those who looked upon him, trusting in God the Redeemer, should not suffer from tempest, earthquake or fire.

And the angels, whom God had sent down to him while he prayed, carried up his soul to Heaven, there forever to find that because he had believed in Christ, and had always sought to do what he could to please Him, he should have joyful service forever and ever, with angels and just men made perfect for his companions, in a land where sorrow is unknown.

Think what a world even this would be, if there were not one selfish, or cruel, or unkind person in it; and then dream, if you dimly can, of the rapture of Heaven, where all is love and joy and wisdom, and beauty and order! But we may be sure all our dreams are far-far from the truth, for hath it not been said, "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him."

Now, Christopher's meekness and charity had a great effect on the heathen multitude who witnessed his death, and many were converted thereby to Christianity. Then a saying went about, that those who looked even at a picture of St. Christopher, would be exempt for that day from all perils of earthquake, fire and flood; and his image, the type of strength, was thought to invigorate those who had to struggle with the evils of life, or were exhausted by the labors of husbandry. Thus you see a gross superstition arose, which would have shocked St. Christopher himself, had he contemplated such an abuse of his dying prayer, and the number of images and pictures of him which were subsequently treated with an almost idolatrous worship.

And now the Little Pilgrim-who you know travels all over the world, and sees fine sights and curious things without number-the Little Pilgrim must tell his young friends how they may