ANGER.

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DANGER OF INDULGING ANGER.

FREDERICK JONES was the son of a rich manufacturer. His father being engrossed in business, the children. were left to the care of their mother, who, being a weak woman, did not restrain them as she ought. There were four, but three of them died; and Frederick being left the only child, was indulged still more. At a very early age he showed his angry temper; and he became such a little tyrant that the very dogs and cats about the house were afraid of him. Once, when he was three years old, he insisted that he should have the silver teaurn, to drag about the room by a string for his coach. And, because his mother refused to let him do so, he seized her cap and tore it from her head.

When Frederick was ten years old, he went into the kitchen, where the servants used to let him do as he pleased for fear of his dreadful temper; for they called him "Mamma's pet lion. He had not been long there befors he upset the table, knocked down the shovel and tongs, and broke several plates. Not satisfied with this, he collected all the tin things in the middle of the floor, and began battering them with the tongs. The cook, not being very well pleased with this destruction, undertook to lead him out of the kitchen. But the little fury, by shrieking and scratching, got free, and seizing a fork, he threw it at the cook, which struck her in the eye and put it out. Thus, by the foolish anger of this little boy, a poor woman lost the sight of her eye entirely. This shows the danger of indulging angry passions; for no one knows what a dreadful deed he may commit in a fit of anger. It shows also the danger of throwing things at others. It is a very dangerous practice, and sometimes leads to the loss of

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EFFECTS OF ANGER.

A little while after this, Frederick was playing at the front door of the house, when a boy passing on the other side of the street, called out, "Hallo, Master Fred, have you put any more people's eyes out lately?" This was enough to make him angry. He immediately picked up a large stone, and chasing the boy some distance, threw it at him with all his might. The boy was out of the way of the stone, but it struck a large bull-dog, which, naturally enough, concluded that he was unjustly attacked, and turning upon Frederick, gave him a severe bite in the leg, and tossed him into the gutter. Frederick roared aloud with pain and rage, and had to be carried home to his bed, where he lay for several weeks. But nobody pitied him. The people who heard of it, knowing his temper, thought the dog had done a praiseworthy act.

After this, Frederick's father sent him to a boarding school, about twenty miles from home, to a very strict master. Here he was in continual broils with his school-fellows. There was scarcely a boy in the school with whom he did not have a fight. But generally he came off with a bleeding nose or a black eye, because his passions took away his strength, and the other boys were an overmatch for him. His school-mates generally did not like to fight; but this angry boy would fly at them for the most trifling thing, and force them to defend themselves.

Frederick's father died before he was twenty years of age; and as he loved amusement better than business, he sold the manufactory, and travelled in Europe, where he was very dissipated, and fought two duels, in both of which he was wounded. During his absence his mother had become a good woman; and on his return, he found her company disagreeable. She entreated him to break off his evil courses. But this only made

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him angry. To get rid of her reproofs, he left her and went to one of the Western States. There, while he was engaged at a public house, with some of his wicked companions, talking politics, one of them called him a liar, and he drew out his dirk and stabbed him to the heart. He ran away from the place, but the image of the murdered man haunted him day and night, and made him wretched. He gave himself up to intoxication, and at the age of twenty-three years, fell into a drunkard's grave, some time after his mother had died of a broken heart on his account. All this came upon Frederick, in consequence of not restraining his passions while a boy. His violent ungovernable temper might have been subdued, when he was a child; but by indulgence it increased in strength, till it became perfectly unmanageable.

BE KIND TO YOUR SISTER.

THE following affecting story, which is given in the language of the brother himself, will admonish every boy who reads it to be kind to his sisters, and especially to avoid blows on the head, as it is probable the blow given this little girl by her brother was the cause of her death. What a shame for a brother to strike his sister!

"One morning in my early life, I remember to have been playing with my younger sister, not then three years old. It was one of those bright mornings in spring, that bring joy and life to the heart, and diffuse gladness and animation through all the tribes of living creatures. Our feelings were in perfect harmony with the universal gladness of nature. Even now I seem to hear the merry laugh of my little sister, as she followed

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me through the winding alleys of the garden, her cheek suffused with the glow of health and animation, and her waving hair floating in the wind.

"She was an only sister, the sole companion of all my childish sports. We were constantly together; and my young heart went out to hers, with all the affection, all the fondness, of which childhood is capable. Nothing afforded me enjoyment in which she did not participate; no amusement was sought which we could not share together.

"That morning we had prolonged our play till ucar the hour of breakfast, with undiminished ardour, when at some slight provocation, my impetuous nature broke forth, and in my anger, I struck my little sister a blow with my hand. She turned to me with an appealing look, and the large tears came into her eyes. Her heart was too full to allow her to speak, and shame made me silent. At that moment the breakfast bell summoned us away, and we returned to the house without exchanging a word. The excitement of play was over, and as she sat beside my mother at breakfast, I perceived by occasional stolen glances at her that she was pale and sad. A tear seemed ready to start in her eye, which her little self-possession could scarcely repress. It was only when my mother inquired if she was ill, that she endeavoured to eat. I was ashamed and grieved, and inwardly resolved to embrace the first opportunity when we were alone, to throw my arms round her neck and entreat her forgiveness.

"When breakfast was ended, my mother retired with her into her own room, directing me in the meantime to sit down to my lesson. I seated myself by the window, and ran over my lesson, but did not learn it. My thoughts were perpetually recurring to the scene in the garden and at table. It was long before my

mother returned, and when she did, it was with an agitated look and hurried step to tell me that my poor Ellen was very ill. I asked eagerly if I might go to her, but was not permitted, lest I should disturb her. A physician was called, and every means used for her recovery, but to no purpose. On the morning of the third day her gentle spirit passed away.

"Years have passed away and I am now a man ; but never does the recollection of this incident of my early life fail to awaken bitter feelings of grief and remorse. And never do I see my young friends exchanging looks or words of anger, without thinking of my last pastime with my own loved Ellen."

THE CRUSADERS.

It was not the good fortune of all the Crusaders to escape the perils of the deep and reach Cyprus in safety.

The wind blew fiercely, the sea ran high. No efforts of the seamen availed to resist the tempest. The ship, driven on the rocks, went to pieces, leaving the crew and passengers to the merciless waves.

Two English knights were riding along the shore and came in view of the shipwreck. "We may as well ride on," said Guy, "all of them have perished."

"Not all of them," said Walter Espic, as he sprang from his horse and pointed to a white object carried hither and thither by the waves. "It is a woman, as I live, and, by the cross I wear, she must be saved if we are to escape the reproach of being unchristian cowards."

waves.

In another moment he was battling with the "Good Walter! brave Walter!" murmured Guy, who, pale as death, stood watching the swimmer, "may God prosper and save you."