Rules for Using the Tongue.

The tongue is called in the Bible an "unruly member." Our own experience accords perfectly with the saying of Holy Writ, and observations on the tongues of others have satisfied us of the fact. We think the following rules, if carefully followed, will be found of great use in taming that which has not yet been perfectly tamed.

1. Never use your tongue in speaking anything but truth. The God of Truth, who made the tongue, did not intend it for any other use. It will not work well in falsehood as it will run into such inconsistencies as to detect itself. To use the organ for publishing falsehood, is as incongruous as the use of the eye for hearing, or the ear for smelling.

2. Do not use your tongue too much. It is a kind of waste-gate to let off the thoughts as they collect upon the mind, but if the waste-gate is always open, the water will soon run shallow. Many people use their tongues too much. Shut the gate, and let streams of thought flow in till the mind is full, and then you may let off with some effect.

3. Never let the stream of passion move the tongue. Some people, when they are about to put this member in motion, hoist the wrong gate; they let out Passion instead of Reason. The tongue then makes a great noise, disturbs the quiet of the neighbors, exhausts the person's strength, but does no good. The whirlwind has ceased, but what is the benefit?

4. Look into the pond, and see if there is water enough to move the wheel to any purpose before you open the gate; or, plainly, think before you speak.

5. Never put your tongue in motion while your respondent has his in motion. The two streams will meet, and the reaction will be so great that the words of neither will reach the other, but come back in a blinding sprinkle upon himself.

6. That your tongue is hung true before you use it. Some tongues we have observed are so hung that they sometimes equivocate considerably. Let the owners of such turn the screw of conscience until the tongue moves true.

7. Expect that others will use their tongues for what you do yours. Some claim the privilege of reporting all the news, and charge others not to do 80. Your neighbor will not allow you to monopolize the business. If you have anything to be kept secret, keep it yourself.

Scolding.

A little girl, not six years of age, screamed out to her little brother, who was playing in the mud:

"Bob, you good-for-nothing scamp, come right into the house this minute, or I will beat you till the skin comes off."

"Why, Angelina, Angelina dear, what do you mean? where did you learn such talk!" exclaimed the mortified 'mother, who stood talking with a friend.

Angelina's childish reply was a good commentary upon this manner of speaking to children:

"Why, mother, you see we are playing, and he's my little boy, and I am scolding him just as you did me this morning; that's all."

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THE

WRECK OF THE " OSPREY."

BY C. WILLIAMS.

OR a half-hour or so there was an indescribable scene of appalling terror and confusion, made up of smoke and fire, a rush of water, shrieks, and blackness overhead, and a wind that tore all before it-then suddenly there was comparative calm. The boats had picked up nearly all the crew and passengers, and the deserted ship burned and drifted before the slackening tempest.

Mrs. Clara Aldrich glanced over the boat when she first began to recover from the confusion and

terror, and a deep breath of relief heaved her bosom as she saw that Mrs. Wilton was not there. The next instant she shuddered at the unformed thought in her mind. Perhaps Lily Wilton was in the other boat. She did not wish her ill, but she was glad yes, she would say it to herself-she was glad that the siren who had stolen her husband's fancy was not in the boat with them.

Ned Wilton was at the other end of the boat, half senseless from a blow on the head. He had jumped overboard with his wife among the first and caught a spar. As they clung to that something had struck him and made him loose his hold. She had still held on, and perhaps the other boat had picked her up. So thought Clara Aldrich, as she clung to her husband in the crowded

boat and whispered "Thank Heaven, Charles, we are saved!" and hid her face that she might not see the burning ship and the angry waves.

She felt him start.

"There she is! Save her!" he cried out, and started up so as to almost throw his wife from him. "There is Lily Wilton!"

The wife lifted herself, and, leaning her hand on his shoulder, looked off to where he pointed, while one of the sailors threw the rope.

Two women struggled in the water not far away, one a servant of one of the lady passengers, the other the woman whom her husband had turned away from his own wife for.

The rope was thrown and was caught by the servant. She was held by it, and reached it back to the lady behind her. Not all her danger and fear could make her forget humanity.

Still, she looked very beautiful, and she seemed to love him.

How easy it is to forgive the fault which arises from love of one's self!

The boat drifted for a few hours, and was seen by a steamer, and the passengers were taken up. "We have already picked up a woman who was almost gone," said the captain of the steamer. "It was an hour before she spoke, or moved, and now she is not able to tell us anything,"

"It must be my poor Jane, who was with Mrs. Wilton," exclaimed Mrs. Stevens. "We thought she was surely drowned. Let me see her at once." Lily Wilton's face reddened.

Lily Wilton saw Charles Aldrich's face in the boat, and thought that he had thrown the rope out for her.

In a few minutes she was drawn on board, but the other woman disappeared. Some thought that they saw an arm and head and a broken spar among the waves; but the boat was overloaded, and the ship was drifting towards them. They could not wait.

It is hard to think anything ill of the motives of one who is tormenting us, and Clara Aldrich had but little charity for the woman whose life had just been saved.

She could not help thinking that Lily was not so overcome as she pretended to be. To be sure she had been in the water fifteen or twenty minutes, and had been well frightened, but many of the others were wet, and all as frightened, and there was no reason why they should all attend to her, as if she was the only sufferer.

She thought too that it would look better if Mrs. Wilton would control herself and try to do something for her husband, instead of crying out that she could not bear the sight of wounds or blood, and keeping herself in that part of the boat farthest from him.

"I dare not move," said she, looking up with tearful eyes into Charles Aldrich's face. "The boat is so full, I am afraid we shall be swamped. Besides, I am so faint!" and she dropped her cheek into her hand, her head close to his knee.

He colored slightly as he looked down upon her.

If they had been alone he might have been pleased, but he was rather embarrassed to have her show that tender, clinging fondness before a score of persons, everyone of one who had, he well knew, cast critical eyes on his late intercourse with her.

Besides, easily flattered and influenced by women as Charles Aldrich was, he was not without principle and a sense of propriety, and he was rather shocked to see this captivating creature ignore her husband as she did.

She cast her eyes on him, then looked coldly away.

"I mean what I say," she answered. "The sailor who threw the rope says that Mrs. Stevens's servant caught it first, and held the end to Mrs. Wilton, and that Mrs. Wilton pulled it away from her, pushing her hands off."

"I don't believe it!" the husband said, impulsively.

Mrs. Aldrich felt choking between grief and indignation. Only three years married, yet her husband not only gazed fascinated at another woman but insulted his wife with rude speech in that wo

man's defence.

She could not speak during the first moment, and in the second she would not.

"I think the sailor must have been mistaken," the husband said, ashamed and uneasy. "And it isn't like you, Clara, to believe the worst of a person without full proof."

She made no reply, but, wrapping her shawl about her, descended to the cabin, which had been put at the disposal of the shipwrecked ladies.

The next morning they arrived at their destination, and with mutual congratulations and thanks separated to their homes.

"Do come soon to see me," Mrs. Wilton begged sweetly of Mrs. Aldrich; "I shall be so confined to Ned, you know, and he will be so lonely. The doctor says he must keep the house a fortnight at least."

The invitation was given to the wife, apparently, but a swift glance into the face of the husband showed that he was included.

He smiled acquiescence, and Mrs. Aldrich murmured a cold "Thank you!" and gave no invitation in return.

Mrs. Stevens passed them by, leading her maid, who walked faintly, as if unable to stand. A mark on her forehead showed where the waves had tossed some hard object against her, and her face was perfectly haggard. Both passed by without appearing to see Mrs. Wilton.

Mrs. Aldrich started eagerly forward and took the sufferer by the hand.

"I am so glad to see you able to walk, Jane!", she said. "So glad of your escape, I would not go down to see you yesterday, because I feared to hurt you."

The woman smiled gratefully, and muttered a word of thanks in a voice scarcely audible. But, as she glanced past the lady, and saw who stood near her, her countenance changed.

"That monster!" she muttered, and hurried away. Mrs. Aldrich turned just in time to catch the last words of a short conversation.

"You will come to see Ned-and me?" asked a soft, coaxing voice.

"Yes."

What a yes it was! Never in the days of their courtship had Clara Aldrich's lover addressed her in a tone of more impassioned tenderness. The fleeting glance he gave was as tender as the tone.

He knew well that both betrayed too much, for when he met his wife's eyes his own shrunk.

She turned abruptly away from him, walked to the wharf without assistance, and stepped into the first carriage that was offered her.

"Clara," he said, softly, "let's forget it all, and begin anew."

He tried to turn it off even now with a laugh, to save his pride and hide his embarrassment.

The wife whose heart had been tortured felt little enough like laughing.

"I do not understand what you mean," she said, with cold quietness, only just glancing at him, then dropping her eyes again.

She did not now trust him enough to submit and give him back her love without knowing on what grounds she was required to feel herself safe.

"You have been angry with me on account of Mrs. Wilton," he said, with an unsteady voice. "Cannot you forget your jealousy of her?"

"I have no reason to forget it," she said, tremulously, though she tried to speak in a calm tone. "No disease is cured till the cause is removed." "The cause is removed," he replied.

She glanced quickly at him, and did not understand his confusion.

That he should be ashamed on being arraigned on such a charge she could well believe; but his

Her heart swelled to breaking. She was too miserable to care who saw or made comments. If Charles chose to stay and escort that woman and her husband he might; she would not wait for him. She felt then that she could never again trust him, never speak pleasant to him, never care to speak to him at all.

A miserable month followed. The husband and wife lived almost like strangers together. He had made some efforts at reconciliation, but she was too mistrustful and too unhappy to respond to them, for she knew that scarcely a day passed that did not find him spending some little time at least at Ned Wilton's "It was such a fine excuse, Ned's illness," she thought, bitterly.

She walked uneasily about her room one evening. She was alone. Her husband was at his usual haunt she supposed, and her powers of endurance were at an end.

"I can bear it no longer!" she exclaimed, passionately. "I will not live with him. I have my parents' home to go back to, and there at least all is love. Why should I wait till he becomes abusive, so that the world may justify me? Blows could not hurt me more than his neglect and his love for that woman. To think that I sit here alone and he is with her-perhaps alone with her!"

had gone. She could not do now as in the happy days of old, when, if a little cloud ever came between them, she threw herself into his arms at the first word and took to herself all the blame. She cast her eyes down and remained silent. Again he sat looking wistfully at her and bitterly regretting his folly.

If she had been reconciled as easily as in the old times, which he also recollected, he might have viewed his offence lightly, but, seeing what it had done for her, it looked in his eyes what it was-a cruel and unprincipled outrage on one who loved and trusted him and had a paramount claim on his love and trust.

"Clara," he burst forth at length, "you cannot believe that I love or ever loved Lily Wilton ?" Her face flushed up, and her blue eyes sparkled as she raised them.

"I have as much reason to believe that you loved me before we were married. The signs were the same. One is no more false than the other."

For one instant he seemed to be on the point of anger, but conscience and his reawakened love for his wife checked the feeling.

"Clara," he said, "let me confess all to you. You have reason to complain, and I will not attempt to justify myself, for a married man has no right to allow himself to be fascinated by any woman not his wife. I was fascinated by her, led on

There was a hand on the door-knob, and she only just quieted herself as her husband entered the room. Her heart gave a joyful throb at sight of him, but she turned away and seated herself by the work-table.

He approached slowly and took a chair opposite her, looking at her earnestly.

How pale and proud she looked! What shadows had settled under her sweet eyes during the last few weeks! How new was that compression of her lips, ever before so smiling!

Charles Aldrich felt himself a villain.

alized. A man may be true to his wife, yet think that other women may be excellent. I thought her perfect. Don't despise me, Clara. I see now what an actress she was; and I was an idiot. But I did not purpose any wrong. It was pleasure to see her, and, as I thought her far removed from everything low and mean, I felt safe. Schoolboy like, I fancied that she was going to exercise an elevating influence over me. Then, dear, your jealousy helped it along, because the thonght that you wronged her made her appear greater and you less in my eyes. But now I know her, Clara, and I am ashamed of myself."

The young wife would not yield yet. She averted her eyes to hide the brightness of them, and steadied her voice to ask :

"What has effected this wonderful change?"

He colored deeply. It was hard to think what a dupe he had been.

"I suppose you think I have been at her house often since we arrived," he said.

"Have you not?" she asked quickly.

"I have been there once only," he replied. "Oh, Charles! Why did you not tell me?" was her involuntary exclamation.

"You gave me no chance to tell you, dear," he said, drawing his chair to her side and taking her hand.

She suffered him to keep it, but did not yield yet. He had been there!

THE RIVAL ARCHERS.

BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.

ILES FORSTER, a substantial yeoman, lived towards the beginning of the eighteenth century, in the small borough of Woodville, England. It will be quite needless to look on the ma for this place, since, for reasons of my own, I have thought it best to veil the real name.

"Jane turned to me, 'I have come here to see you,' she said, ' and tell you of this woman, whom everybody says you are in love with.' At that, and all through what she said, Mrs. Wilton lost all control of herself, and tried to put her out. But she finished what she had to say.

SEE ENGRAVING.

"That woman pushed my hands from the rope,' she said, and when I said, "I shall drown!" she answered, "Drown then!" and when I tried to catch at the rope as I went down she kicked me.' It wasn't so much what she said that shocked me, Clara, for in desperate fear of death one may not know what one does, but it was what Mrs. Wilton said. 'You speak falsely?' she cried out, fiercely, and, Clara, she slapped the woman's face. I don't like to think of it. The sight of one whom I had been led to believe a model of softness and dignity talking and acting like a vulgar termagant cured me."

There was silence for a moment, then the husband asked:

"Can you trust me again, Clara ?"

She looked up at him with tearful, tender eyes. "You have ceased to care for her, but some other one will win you again."

"No!" he exclaimed, quickly. "I should never again like a woman who tried to captivate me, however beautiful and excellent she might be. If ever any woman except yourself should begin to smile on me in the future I shall remember Lily Wilton and the wreck of the 'Osprey.""

Clara Aldrich leaned on her husband's bosom, tender, happy, yet sighing. Such a pain is not easily forgotten, such a trust once broken not easily restored; but she forgave and loved him, and as years proved how true his promise had been she learned to date her highest happiness from the wreck of the "Osprey."

men, that other maidens, left to themselves, became envious, and heartily hoped that she would ere long marry, in order that they might have a chance.

At length Giles himself came to think this was a reasonable piece of advice. One morning he suddenly asked his daughter how old she was, and on being told that she was nearly eighteen-that in fact her birthday would come in less than four weeks, abruptly declared that it was quite time she should be married. Now matrimony was not so disagreeable a proposition to Bess, for to tell the plain truth, her heart had already been made captive by a young yeoman of the neighborhood-tall and comely, and in all respects doing credit to her choice. The name of this fortunate young man was Launcelot Graves.

But unfortunately for Bess, her father had a plan in his head which might give her quite a different husband from the one her heart had chosen. In his youth Giles had been a dexterous archer, and even plumed himself on his skill in drawing the long bow. He was determined that no man should marry his daughter who was not skilled in the same manly exercise. This will explain the proposition which he now unfolded to his daughter.

"I am determined, my lass," he said, "that no one shall become my son-in-law who cannot show himself worthy by excelling in the noble science of archery. You have many beaux, my lass. I am resolved that he shall have you who can best draw the bow."

Here he laughed at his own witticism, and thus ratified his resolve.

It was useless for Bess to protest against this way of disposing of her hand. Then, more than at present it was held that the father had a right to dispose of his daughters in marriage, without special regard to their own wishes in the matter. As soon as possible the arrangements were made public. On the birthday of our heroine there was to be a grand trial of archery held in a five-acre lot, situated just behind the house of Giles Forster.

The hand of the fair maid was to be the guerdon of the victor, and the union was to take place at the

of which all who should chance to be present were