us most shocking. My dear mother had been quite startled, and with a grave and somewhat sad countenance she begged her friend to explain herself. Miss T was quite serious too.

any

I mean this," she said; "that in a Christian family little ones are taught to be kind and considerate, to regard the welfare of others, of their fellow-beings, and also of animals; so that poor dumb brute living among such children is well treated; and if so, its nature will be gentler and more docile than where they are roughly handled, hardly fed, teased, and spoken to as if they had no feeling. I have always noticed, for instance," continued Miss T-," that of all the dogs you have had, my friend, not one has ever growled at me, or has ever showed any ugliness of temper."

It was long ago that I heard this, dear children; but though other scenes of my childhood have passed from my memory, this has not; and I wish to say to you all, Be kind to your little dog, to the cat, and the birdie that sings in the pretty cage at the window. If you love them, they will show your kindness in their disposition, and thank you

can.

THE GATHERED
BLOSSOM.

NOTHER blossom has been gathered by the Saviour to adorn His heavenly home. Another whiterobed little one is standing "before the throne of God in heaven." Another jewel is sparkling in the diadem of the "King of Glory ;" and those left behind mourn, but not as those who mourn without hope.

"Our Harriet," as she was called, was born July 30th, 1853. Lively, sprightly, playful, yet always busy, tender, affectionate, and particularly truthful, she was beloved by all, both old and young.

She was particularly fond of 'helping mother," which she did principally in taking care of her little sister and the baby. Though not nine when she died, she would take great pleasure in dressing and undressing this little sister, and teaching her all she was taught. And often, on returning from the Sundayschool, she would turn Sundayschool teacher herself, and

The Sabbath, from beginning to end, was truly her delight. At chapel, everything seemed full of interest to her; and the little active body would be stilled, and reverence and earnestness seem to take full possession of her mind. At the Sunday-school it was the same. Never weary of listening,—with her eyes fixed unwaveringly on her teacher's face, sometimes filling with tears, and always brightening when the subject turned on heaven, she encouraged and cheered that teacher's heart again and again.

On the occasion of some revival services being held at the chapel which she attended, her brother, older than herself, was invited to go to the communiontable. Hearing him make some objection, she instantly urged him to go, and, as a farther inducement, said she would go with him. Hand in hand they walked up the aisle, and the little guardian sister remained standing behind her brother, his cap in her hand, till the conclusion of the meeting, when she went home rejoicing in his joy.

During the last few weeks of her life, she learned, and fre

entitled, "Weep not for me; as if to furnish her friends with comforting recollections when she should have obeyed the summons, "Come up hither." She was also very fond of the hymn commencing,

"I want to be an angel,

And with the angels stand." Her last illness was very painful, producing severe suffering and great exhaustion; but she manifested constant and unyielding patience, and resigned herself entirely to the kindness of her heavenly Father; afterwards proceeding quietly and calmly to arrange her little affairs, and to make her will, saying who must have her keepsakes and trinkets, until her sorrowing mother told her she must not think of dying, for she could not be spared. After this she spoke not a word about her death.

At first her disease yielded more than once to the remedies used; and, on recovering from the second attack, she earnestly begged for permission to go to the Sunday-school. She was at first decidedly refused, but at length she obtained a reluctant consent. It proved her last visit. She took fresh cold, and

upon

once more was stretched the bed of suffering. Still, from the delusive nature of her affliction, her friends were assured of her recovery up to the very day of her death.

When a little ease allowed her to be propped up with pillows, the first request was, "Mother, bring me my Bible." The magazines, also, coming at the beginning of the month, she read with avidity; including the Early Days, Child's Companion, Children's Friend, &c. This she continued up to the Saturday evening. On the Sunday she appeared a little weaker, but still no fatal danger was apprehended. She was settled for the night a little after ten o'clock, and a little before twelve her voice was suddenly heard calling, "Father." He came immediately, and took her in his arms, when she quietly laid back her head, and "Our Harriet " was with God.

She died on the 4th of May, 1862. Her fair, but lifeless, form was bestrewed with appropriate and beautiful wildflowers, and buried in the midst of the sunshine and the bursting flowers of spring, in the graveyard adjoining the house of prayer she loved so well.

She lived not long, but her

life was a lesson of piety, cheerfulness, and love.

IONE.

CHAPTERS ON WILDFLOWERS.

FEBRUARY.

EAR children, January

is past and gone, with its snow storms and icicles, its frosts and its thaws; and though we have not done with the rough weather yet, but must expect many a biting frost, and many a cold east wind, before the spring comes, yet it is not too soon to think about flowers. How glad we shall be to see the flowers again, for we all love them. I think all children love flowers, from the wee toddlers who tumble about in the grass, picking the buttercups and daisies, to the elder boys and girls who have their own gardens to cultivate, and are learned about bulbs, and cuttings, and roots. And grown-up people love them too; all whose hearts are not dried up by the cares of this busy, money-getting world. I hope that will never be the case with you, but that you will always have a corner in your hearts, kept fresh and green by your love to all the beautiful things that God has made.

It is not of garden-flowers I am going to talk to you, but of English wild-flowers,-the flowers that spring up in our lanes, and twine about our hedges, and shine in the meadows, and blossom in the woods. They were dear companions to me in my early days; and if you feel the same delight in gathering and studying them, it will make your country rambles very pleasant indeed.

To go into a lane where the roses and honeysuckles are wreathed in the hedgerows is like getting among old friends; and the breath of the sweet spring violets carries one back in thought years ago, when it was rare delight to climb the banks, and turn up the leaves, and seek for these sweet-scented treasures of the spring.

Winter has not killed all our favourites; the roots are in the ground, but the leaves and flowers have died down, and passed away, because their work is done. How well their work is done we shall see next season, when they spring up thicker than ever. Every plant bears a kind of seed or fruit, and the flowers and the leaves are needed to bring it to perfection; and as the seed ripens, the flowers die

away; but the seed finds its way into the ground, and so the plant is continued year after year. Some plants, as you know, are most useful for food; some for clothing; others for medicine; and others for dyeing; but all are beautiful. Our loving Father has made them all to give us pleasure, to make this earth fair and lovely, and to teach us His wonderful wisdom. Let us, then, look about us, for the time of flowers is coming, and there are some that never fail to appear in February; for "to everything there is a season."

Those who will venture far enough into the fields will be sure to find, somewhere in a sheltered corner, the little Daisy, (Bellis perennis,) the wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,

66

-“Day's-eye,” or "the eye of day,"-as our old poet Chaucer used to call it. Four hundred years ago, he used to go out early in the morning, and watch the daisies unfolding themselves as the sun shone upon them; and I dare say he was the happier all day long for having learnt a lesson from that modest, cheerful flower,-that, for allitis so lowly, is not afraid to look the sun in the face. This flower is not really so simple as it seems,

or order, of flowers called "Composite," because each blossom is composed of a number of tiny florets. The Colt's-foot and the Dandelion both belong to this order. You may find them both this month. The dandelion is a gay-looking flower; but we don't love it so well as the daisy, do we? Its name means dent-de-lion, or "tooth of lion," because the leaves, if you notice, are notched like lions' teeth. On a bit of open common or waste ground, or on a steep railway embankment, or on the hill-sides, if you are happy enough to live in a hilly country, you will see the bright golden flowers of the prickly Furze, or Gorse. If you attempt to pick a spray of it, it must be at the risk of a few scratches; but "nothing venture, nothing win," says the old proverb. The gorse comes in spring, and in autumn too; it belongs to the order of butterflyshaped flowers, like the Broom, the Acacia, and the Sweetpea.

But what is that little flower shining out like a yellow star upon the bank? A Buttercup? It grows too low for that, and the colour is not deep enough, and the leaf is quite different; it