means of inflicting a most terrible mortification on him at one time. It was very hot weather, and Prince, being a shaggy dog, lay panting, and lolling his tongue out, apparently suffering from the heat.

10. "I declare," said young master George, "I do believe Prince would be more comfortable for being sheared." And so forthwith he took him and began divesting him of his coat. Prince took it all very obediently; but when he appeared without his usual attire, every one saluted him with roars of laughter, and Prince was dreadfully mortified. He broke away from his master, and scampered off home at a desperate pace, ran down cellar and disappeared from view. His young master was quite distressed that Prince took the matter so to heart; he followed him in vain, calling, "Prince! Prince!" No Prince appeared.

11. He lighted a candle and searched the cellar, and found the poor creature cowering away in the darkest nook under the stairs. Prince was not to be comforted; he slunk deeper and deeper into the darkness, and crouched on the ground when he saw his master, and for a long time refused even to take food. The family all visited and condoled with him, and finally his sorrows were somewhat abated; but he would not be persuaded to leave the cellar for nearly a week. Perhaps by that time he indulged the hope that his hair was beginning to grow again, and all were careful not to destroy the illusion by any jests or comments on his appearance.

LXXIV. AN OLD LEGEND.

ROSE TERRY.

1. The snow came falling fast and fair
Down through the wintry night;

The Christmas lights shone every where,

The city streets were bright;

And loud the sweet cathedral bells

Chimed praises and delight.

2. But out amid the falling snow,

Forsaken and alone,

A little child went wandering slow

And making piteous moan;

For his father and his mother dear
Up into heaven were gone.

3. He saw the fruitful Christmas-trees
Spread out their gracious boughs;
He saw between the curtains red
The children's shining brows,

And the little Christ-child sitting high
To hear their thankful vows.

4. Then loud he cried, and sobbed full sore, No mother dear had he

To fill his apron from her store,

And take him on her knee.

He cried till a rich woman heard,
And came outside to see.

5. "O lady! give me fire and food,
I am so starved and cold,
Please do the little orphan good,
For God has sent you gold."

But she said, "Begone, thou/beggar boy!

My house no more can hold."

6. She shut him out into the night, And went among her own;

She sat upon a cushion bright,

He on the stepping-stone,

And his tears made little drops of ice

As he sat there alone.

7. But down the wide and/snowy street

He saw another child,

With silver sandals on his feet,

Float through the tempest wild,

His snow-white garments shining fair,
As if a sunbeam smiled.

8. Right onward to the orphan lad Down the wide street he came, And in a voice full sweet and glad

9.

He called him by his name ;
And the little weary child grew warm,
Forgetting pain and shame.

"Thou hast no home, thou little one,
But thou shalt go with me;

I saw thee sitting all alone,
And I came after thee.

Now look up to the heavens above,
Behold thy Christmas-tree!

"

10. The boy looked up to heaven above, His tears forgot to flow;

For the Christ-child with his looks of love

Had charmed away the snow,

And on a tree all set with stars

Angels went to and fro.

11. "Come up! come up, thou little boy!
Come up to heaven on high!

Thy (Christmas-tide shall dawn in joy."
He clasped him lovingly,

And the Christ-child and the orphan lad
Kept Christmas in the sky.

LXXV.-PRAYER.

LUELLA CLARK.

1. In the early hour of dawning,
Ere the sunshine gilds the pane,
While the first red rays of morning
Light the mountain and the plain;
Ere the tasks of day begin,

When you wake from quiet sleep,
Ere
you feel the touch of sin,
Pray the Lord your soul to keep.

2. In the busy noontide hour,

In the noise and dust and heat,
When the threat'ning storm-clouds lower,
One can hold your faltering feet

;

One hand still can lead you on,

Though your way be rough and steep: Ere your strength and hope are gone, Pray the Lord your soul to keep.

3. When at last the day is done,

When the hindering shadows fall,
When the silent night comes on,
With its blessed homeward call;
When your cares are all forgot,

Ere you close your eyes in sleep,
Look to him who slumbers not-
Pray the Lord your soul to keep.

2. One by one thy duties wait thee;

Let thy whole strength go to each;
Let no future dreams elate thee;

Learn thou first what these can teach.

3. One by one, (bright gifts from heaven,)
Joys are sent thee here below;
Take them readily when given,——
Ready, too, to let them go.

4. One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;
Do not fear an armed band;

One will fade as others greet thee,—
Shadows passing through the land.

5. Do not laugh at life's long sorrow;

See how small each moment's pain:
God will help thee for to-morrow;
Every day begin again.

6. Every hour, that fleets so slowly,
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.

7. Hours are golden links-God's token
Reaching heaven; but one by one,
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere thy pilgrimage be done.

LXXVII. SUMMER RAIN.

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

1. Men begin to look at the signs of weather. It is long since much rain fell. The ground is a little dry, the road is a good deal dusty. The garden bakes. Transplanted trees are thirsty. Wheels are shrinking and tires are looking dangerous. Men speculate on the clouds; they begin to calculate how long it will be, if no rain falls, before the potatoes will suffer; the oats, the corn, the grass,-every thing! be sure, nothing is yet suffering; but then

To

2. Rain, rain, rain! All day, all night steady raining. Will it never stop? The hay is out, and spoiling. The rain washes the garden. The ground is full. All things have drunk their fill. The springs revive, the meadows are wet; the rivers run discolored with soil from every hill. Smoking cattle reek under the sheds. Hens, and fowl in general, shelter and plume. The sky is leaden. The clouds are full yet. The long fleece covers the mountains. The hills are capped in white. The air is full of moisture.

3. Rain, rain, rain!

The wind roars down the chimney. The birds are silent. No insects chirp. Closets smell moldy. The barometer is dogged. We thump it, but it will not get up. It seems to have an understanding with the weather. The trees drip, shoes are muddy, carriage and wagon are splashed with dirt. Paths are soft. So it is. When it is clear we want rain, and when it rains we wish it would shine. But, after all, how lucky for grumblers that they are not allowed to meddle with the weather, and that it