sure that Andrew and Mark were very happy children, not just because they had all these beautiful things round them, but chiefly because their father had wisely, as well as lovingly, chosen kind and experienced guardians, and several merry little playmates for them; for he wanted them to be useful, good boys, not to become lazy, selfish fellows. Besides this, as soon as they were old enough to understand, he began to write them long letters, telling them about himself, and their dear dead mother, and also about India, with its dark-faced natives, and strange tropical scenery; and then he would talk about his boys themselves, about their home in dear green England, about their pleasures and play, their sorrows and studies, and all that must belong to their life. For it was his great wish that the boys should remember him, if possible, or at least know him as he really was, their tender, and loving, and good father; that they should always cherish him in their thoughts as the one on earth to whom belonged their highest reverence, and gratitude and affection. So, one day, he said, in his letter, "Whenever I write to you, I like to imagine you reading the letter-perhaps standing together, in the window, or out on the lawn after a game with your friends, or a ride in the park, and I think of my dear boys being so pleased to have the letter, that they would do almost anything that their father wished. Now there are three things I earnestly wish you to do, and they are these:-First, never forget to mention me in your prayers both morning and evening-this is first and foremost, my boys. Secondly, keep all my letters in your inlaid box, and read some of them every Sunday afternoon. I shall like to know what you are doing that one hour in the week. Thirdly, let one of you, either Andrew or Mark, write to me every week, and then, perhaps, when we at last are together again, we shall not seem strangers, but real loving father and sons."

It must have been nearly twenty years after this, and the boys were grown into young men ; but their father had been detained in India, and they had never seen him, for he was kept year after year, as a general in the army engaged in the Affghan war, while he longed for home, and for a sight of his sons, now in early manhood. One fine summer evening a stranger entered the village that lay at

the foot of the hill, on which stood Andrew and Mark's home.

"Is that the young Dales' place up yonder ?" he inquired of an old man who was sitting in his garden porch, to watch the sun set.

'Yes, sir, and fine young gentlemen they be, sure enough."

"I see your village is greatly improved," remarked the stranger.

66

Why, yes, sir, you may say that indeed," returned the old man ; "the schools there were built by the young squires there be two of them you know, sir-built only last year, and we've pretty nigh all the children within three miles around attending there now. Then the roads all about usen't to be fit for man or beast, after the autumn rains had set in, and now they've made them firm and good, let what weather will come. And they've enlarged the church; and not a cottage is suffered to lie out of repairthere's mine for a proof, if your honour would come in and look at the kitchen, and judge for yourself, and then (as the pair moved in-doors to view the snug room, bright with its coal fire and well-rubbed tins) "and then all the farming about here is mended, quite changed, as I may say, sir; there's a fine little model farm out yonder, and they've got all the farmers on the estate to plan after it-a prettier place you never see, sir! And then what makes the farmers like them is that, though they are fine-spirited young gentlemen enough, and as fond of hunting and shooting as most, they don't go and summon a man because he's trapped a fox in his yard, or a hare on his young plantation." The old man stopped here, quite out of breath, and looked hard at the strange gentleman, who was gazing thoughtfully into the fire.

"And what about their father; do they speak much of him?" asked the stranger.

"Their father! isn't he dead, sir ?"

"Dead! no; he's been living in India. Did they say he was dead ?"

“Bless you, no, sir; but I thought so, as I never heard nothing about him, that's all.”

The stranger rose to go, and wishing the old man good night" courteously, went his way, looking abstractedly on

the ground, as if some strange thing was puzzling and tormenting his brain. He walked almost unconsciously up the hill, passing through the park gates, and on through the long drive, till he came to the door, when he rang the bell, and asked for the young Dales. They had a dinnerparty that day, but Andrew came out and invited him into the drawing-room at once. A small number of gentlemen, evidently scientific men, and a few ladies, were looking over small cabinets of specimens of various kinds. Andrew introduced the stranger to his brother Mark, and then resumed his argument with a tall, thin man, who was looking over some geological specimens.

"If you are interested in archeology, sir," said Mark, you will appreciate this brass medal; it is of Hannibal's time; a friend of mine dug it up at Capua. Just look at the head-can you see the legend ?"

"Yes; it is very curious," said the stranger, closely examining it. "I have a collection of Indian coins, but no European ones-I am just come from India; in fact, I have the pleasure of knowing your father."

"Indeed!" said the young man, quietly, "I hope you left him well."

"Not very well, somewhat failing in health, I fear; but I suppose this is hardly news for you.”

་་

Well," said Mark, pushing in a drawer, and carefully tucking in some stray flakes of wool, "we hear but little of the old man; he was rather requiring when we were boys, and I believe we got tired of writing to him."

The stranger was grave and silent. Mark looked up, and said, easily, "However, he will find the place and people in good order whenever he likes to come back. I think our wishes and his go pretty nearly together in all those things -at least, I should imagine so."

Just then a servant came hastily into the room, and said, in a low voice, "Mr. Mark, poor old Bates is worse, and the doctor is away at Westhouse."

"Oh, Adams, I'll go to him at once; put the saddle on Robin without delay. You will excuse me, sir; it is an old servant who is ill, and the doctor is absent. I have studied medicine, and so I give what help I can when he is not in the way;" and, so saying, the young man left the room; his pleasant, manly face all kindly earnestness.

Presently Andrew came up, and the stranger remarked on the beauty of the Indian furniture of the room-the cabinets especially were superb.

"Yes, they are really good, I think. We have the house full of such things."

"6 I suppose your father sends them.”

'Why, yes, he does; it's a pleasure to him, I suppose, and of course we're much obliged. Have you seen the daturas in the conservatory ?-they are quite a sight, I assure you. This is the way.'

May I ask if that inlaid box holds your father's letters? Excuse the question, but I am a very old friend of his."

Andrew half frowned-" You take a great interest in the old man, sir. No; I believe his letters are in one of the up-stairs rooms; it's as likely as not though the mice have destroyed them; they have a great liking for musty old foreign paper. I never thought of that," he said, with a little laugh.

"Now, are not these plants magnificent? It is a glorious sight! We had the village-school children and old folks from the alms-house, to look at them yesterday; and I assure you, sir, I never saw a set of people so enthusiastically delighted. There's a kind of love for nature in our rustic population.”

He turned and looked surprised to see the stranger gazing through the glass wall-pale, sad, and sick at heart. "Are you ill, sir?"

"No; my thoughts trouble me."

The young man looked puzzled, and walked into the house.

A few months after, a feeble, broken-down man, died in one of the quieter London squares. The last words he wrote to an old friend were, "My sons have forgotten me, and my heart is broken."

Reader-old or young-do you think forgetfulness a little sin? Will you study your fellow men's wants and wishes, and find no place for God your father, in thoughts or deeds? Not only the wicked, but "all the people that forget God, shall be turned into hell."-"Remember now thy Creator."

SIXPENCE A-DAY.

There is now an old man in an almshouse in Bristol, who states that for sixty years he spent sixpence a-day in drink, but was never intoxicated. A gentlemen who heard this statement, was somewhat curious to ascertain how much this sixpence a-day, put by every year, at 5 per cent., compound interest, would amount to in sixty years. Taking out his pencil, he began to calculate, putting down the first year's savings (365 sixpences) £9 2s. 6d., he added the interest, 98. 1d., and thus went on year by year, until he found, that in the sixtieth year the sixpence a-day reached the startling sum of £3,225 16s. 8d. Judge of the old man's surprise when told that had he saved his sixpence a-day, and allowed it to accumulate at compound interest, he might now have been worth the above noble sum; so that, instead of taking refuge in an almshouse, he might have comforted himself with a house of his own, costing £700, and fifty acres of land, worth £50 an acre, and have left the same as a legacy amongst his children and grandchildren.— British Workman.

"OUR OWN COTTAGE."

A brickmaker, who said he had "hard work to live," but who found both time and money for the beer-house every night, was induced by his master to deposit a few shillings weekly in the savings' bank. The shillings soon became pounds; and at the end of about ten years the workingman's bank-book showed a balance in his favour of £200!

Now, Andrew," said the master, "You have made bricks for other folks' houses, make some for your own." A plot of land was soon purchased, and a neat cottage built. It was a joyous occasion when Andrew's family took their first meal in "our own cottage." Andrew has now a vote for the county of York! Are there not thousands of the working-men of our country, who, like Andrew, might live RENT FREE in their own cottages if they would?"—British Workman.