soon gone, but a star would shine splendidly, and I should be finer than all the other flowers,' said the naughty bud one night.

"But you need the dew to live, and the moon needs the star up there to light the world,' answered the good bud.

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"I won't have the dew, and if I can not get a star I will take a firefly to shine on my breast,' said the other, shaking off a fresh drop that had just fallen on her, and folding her leaves round the bright fly.

"Foolish child!' cried the rose-mother; 'let the fly go before he harms you.'

"But the silly bud only held the firefly closer, till in its struggles it tore her leaves and flew away. When the hot sun came up, the poor bud hung all faded on her stem, longing for a cool drop to drink.

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'Now I must die. Oh, why was I vain and silly?' sobbed the poor bud, fainting in the heat.

"Then the mother leaned over her, and from her bosom, where she had hidden it, the dewdrop fell on the thirsty bud, and while she drank it eagerly, the rose drew her closer, whispering, 'Little darling, learn to be contented with what heaven sends, and make yourself lovely by being good.'"

"I shall remember that story," said Eva, when the elves shut their books and flew back to the daisy seats.

"Would you like to hear them sing?" asked Trip.

"Very much," said Eva, and in the little song they gave her, she got another lesson to carry home.

What lesson did Eva learn from the discontented bud? What lessons did she learn from the elves? What did the elves do all day?

THE SONG OF THE ELVES.

"I shine," says the sun,
"To give the world light,"
"I glimmer," adds the moon,
"To beautify the night."
"I ripple," says the brook,
"I whisper," sighs the breeze,
"I patter," laughs the rain,
"We rustle," call the trees,
"We dance," nod the daisies,
"I twinkle," shines the star.
"We sing," chant the birds;

"I smile," cries the child,

Gentle, good, and gay-
The sweetest thing of all,

The sunshine of each day.

My fairest child, I have no song to give

you;

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and

gray;

Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be

clever;

Do noble things, not dream them, all day

long;

And so make life, death, and that vast for

ever

One grand, sweet song.

- CHARLES KINGSLEY.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall

be called the children of God.

THE MISER.

Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Old Marley

was dead as a door nail.

Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door nail, but permit me to repeat that Marley was as dead as a door nail.

Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years.

Scrooge never painted out old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge, Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him.

Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! Hard and sharp as flint from which no steel had ever struck out