fam4 THE LAST HOME. BY N. 6. SHEPHERD Six narrow feet of churchyard sod, Whereon the summer grasses wave, And summendaisies gently nod Above the slumber of the grave; All heirs are we by right of birth To this last heritage of earth. And hitherward our footsteps tend From early childhood's happy hours, By paths where sun and shadow blend, And thorns are mingled with the flowers ; loilres:rY ;see is, Past) come And we ome - tO rest at•last. Dull care can never enter here, To leave its old, unerring trace ; All thought of wrong shall disappear, Nor brooding sorrow find a place Where, wrapt in slumber long and deep, The unconscious dead through years shall sleep. The baa'that breathes its life away, Soft pillowed on the mother's breast; The old, the young, the sad, the gay, Shall hither come to take their rest; And day by day and year by year, The grass shall - grow above them here The rich shall leave their mansions wide, And •in this narrower house find room, Where flourish neither wealth nor pride; The homeless here shall seek a home, And over both the clouds shall weep Sweet tears above their dreamless sleep. 0, when at last I come to die, May Knot rest in vaulted glOoms, But sweetly, calmly, let me lie Beneath the purple clover-blooms ; And may the tall green grasses wave With slumberous motion o'er my grave There let the summer song-bird come To warble low his liquid lay; And let the wild bird, hovering, hum Aboie me all the livelong day ; And blithely let the cricket call When evening shadows softly fall 0 last, long bome.on earth below— Ye graves that rise on either hand, Thine are the.darkened doors I know, The portals to that happier land That radiant land of perfect light, Where comes not sorrow, care nor night. ALBERT, THE SON OF WILLIAM TELL. Most of my young friends are ac quainted with the heroic exploits of William Tell, the hero of Switzerland. There is a little episode in his life, re lating to his son, so illustrative of boy ish heroism, that it' is' entitled to a place here. At the time William Tell was wan dering among the mountains of Swit erland, ins. his endeavors to obtain freedom for his country, it frequently happened be was exposed to the most serious perils. Gessler, the Aus trian governor, hid put a price upon his heacl, and a detachment of troops was sent out among the mountains for the express purpose of his capture. For many months the noble patriot had to play bide and seek among rocks and ravines, and many were the almost miraculous escapes he under went. In these wanderings he was at one period attended only by his son Albert, and both concealed themselves in various places, in caves and woods, and hollows of the rocks, from which they were started and hunted like wild beasts. At last Tell's affairs be came so desperate, that he and his son were without the slightest means of sustenance. The winter had set in, and nothing, but ice and snow sur rounded them. Their slight store of food began , to fail, arid there was no way left to prevent their perishing of hunger, than that of sending Albert across the mountains to the Ard, to procure provisions. Loth•indeed was Tell to part with a son whom he loved so well,' and who, although only in his eleventh year, had given so many tokens of his cour age,.and of his love and duty toward his father. But there was no alterna tive; their very existence depended upon !the task; and the boy, taking nothing with him but his bow and arrow and alpenstock, to assist him in his Mountain descents, after embracing his father and shedding boyish tears of sorrow, departed 'from a place called the Eagle's _Nest, a small cave situated nearthe .top of a very high mountain in the canton of 'Ure, near the Lake of Lucerne. The way was desolate and perilous. In many parts the simple goat track of the mountain, which was the only guide to the valley, was obliterated by the snow; while the cracks and ere vices 'were filled to the depth of sev eral feet Into these, as the poor lad journeyed on, he frequently fell, and with much - difficulty extricated him self. Nothing daunted, however, he pursued his course with unabated ardor, feeling that his father's life de pended on his exertions, and that he had God for his friend. In Him he put his trust and' often did the most ferfent and heartfelt' prayers arise to the'Giver of all strength for courage and 'perseverance in his arduous en deavom. With hope.and :faith for his guide, therefore, the `4)o6k child proce&led. The 0.40 were 'short, and the sun soon declikel 4 - 0 . the horizon. ,was but a verynhoit. time visible in the moun tains; and 'sank at 'lO early hour be= Heath-.those gigaptic masses which threw, their deep ,shadows upon the valley 4 and gave . them: a deep and solemn- gloom The eagle, screamed abm, and the torrents` roared below .aad as the slut dowa.deepened and the night drew in, the fierce howl of the wolf was added to the horror of the scene. Albert had i rowlied `the bottont s of the valley. A. mountain torrent- had swelled to unusual- dimensiolist 4 ' and in a stream of foluit' rushed' albng 1443 a Maniac, hurling devastation in its headlong course. The night was growing darker and darker, and as the gloom came on, the sullen growl of thunder was heard in 'the distance, and lightning began to play amvag ,the forked tops of the mountains. -It was necessary that Albert should pass this mountain stream ; but so rapidly did it hurry along, and so deep were its waters, that to attempt it seemed only to fly in the face of death. While the youth paused to consider the best course to pursue, he suddenly heard the howl of wolves, and, at the same instant, the cry of some person in distress. He immediately rushed to the spot, and, at a short distance, found three wolves in fierce attack upon a man; who was vainly endeavoring to defend himself with his sword. Albert rushed on, and with one stroke of his alpen stock stunned the wolf nearest to him, and attacking the second with the sharp end of it, soon tied him to the ground. The third wall had already been disabled. The combatant was, therefore, relieved, by the bold cour age of Albert, from all further fear. Then the traveler, almost exhausted with his battle with the savage wolves, said: " Thank* thanks, *hoever thou art ; for:thou halt saved me from much trouble, and perhaps even death. Who art th,ou ?" " My name is Albert," replied the boy. " Who art thou?" "I am a soldier, and have lost my way among these inhospitable moun tains," replied the stranger. " Canst thou tell where I am?" " can," said , Albert. " Thou art seven miles from the village, if we could cross the stream ; but twenty seven, if we go by the bridge, some miles lower down." " How is it," said the stranger, "that a youth like thee' should be wandering, alone in this dismal place? Whence comest thou ?" "I have traveled from Mount Fai gel." • "And no one with thee ?" "No one but God." " Do you not-har -these storms 2" ".God is in the storm." "And there are tOrrents too, that, must be crossed." ",God is, by the torrent" "And the darkness grows thick and deep.' " God is my hot in the darkness." "But you are but a child:" " Goel will be with a child," replied Albert, striking his staff on the ground, and assuming an attitude of bold reli ance. " Guide me across the stream, and bring me safely to Steil:Lin, and I will reward you." " have my reward, and require no other," replied Albert _ _ " How is thiit " God rewards those who do their duty." "It may not bp thy duty, boy," said the stranger. " I may be thy enemy and the enemy of thy •coun try." It is my duty to serve my enemy when in distress or trouble. And wert thou the wicked Gessler himself, I would serve thee." " Humph !" said the stranger, with a pensive aspect. " Why dost thou call Gensler wicked ?" "Because," said the boy, "he acts against his, conscience ; he must know that men have aright to be free, and he kills them, because they love their liberty. But come, follow, me higher up the stream, and I will find a way across the torrent." Young Tell and Gessler, for the stranger was no other than the Aus trian governor, now proceeded on their way up the bank of [the stream till they came ,to .a part of it where two broken rocks had formed a natu ral bridge, ,the existence of which was known only to Albert, his father, and a few of their patriot band. Over, this the lad and, the Austrian, gOvernor passed, and, amid the roar of the tem pest, reached the other side in safety. They then' ascended the mountains and climbed up through crevices, till at last they stood. On a kind of table land above. Then= all at once 'they came upon a picquet of the Austrian army, standing round a large fire. Upon the approach of Gensler, the officer in command called out, " The, governor!" All the soldiers imme-' diately "dressed," that is, stood in rank and presented arms. Albert at once found out his posi tion, and that he had been directing the steps of his Tather'i worst foe'-imit, nothing daunted,' he' determined to make the best of thee cirennuitances into which-fortune had thrown: him. He did not suppose that the Austrian could have any knowledge of, him. or his mission, .bat instinct werned, to tell him that the sooner he was oat of the handis of enemies, the better;' and EA, buckling up his,girdle,he pre pared tO'depart, saying to Gelder, with due reverence: "I have performed My promise, sir, and now may I be permitted to pass on my way.?" "Not till we are better acquainted, my young, 4riend," , replind .t.tkezover nor. "You have performed ,for,me an essential service, and I Enlist reward you. Who, and what are you ,bo'y ?" "My name is Albert," ,replied the lad, ,f4tnd I reside, when I am at home,lt Altorf." , 4 AI ben is thy baptismali name;' a good , '-name, worthy a good;Austrinn but 'there tire many -Albertili in this vridemorld. What is thy other name? THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY. AUGUST 9, 1866. Tell me, that I may do thy parents, as well as £hyself, some service.' "My name would not be pleasing to you, and.l. will not revealliq "Ha!" said the govertio l f iliou art then some rebel—some tkirtisan of the miscreant Tell. I wilrhaves thy name, boy." "'Tis not in thy power, nor in thp power of all thy hosts, to wrench it from ma. It would have been easy for me to have told thee a fictitious name; but I scorn a lie. I am not bound to tell you ,nay name, You, found me free, leave me so.":. " Who is thy father-V- , said.the gov ernor, with a menacing look. "A free man ; a; companion of the eagle on the mountain tops; o,nd of the clouds that - sail upon the free-born winds. Would that every man, in Switzerland were as free as he 1" "1 will .know who thou art. .Seize him, guards. Search him; find out who he is." Some - of the soldiers immediately stepped for Ward at the bidding of their chief, and having Seized Albert, began - to search ' , him. They todk from hini his bbw and quiver, his .staff, 'and wallet. They then searched his clothes, and found a letter from. Te,ll to his,wife, which at once reveale,a the, name and mission of the heroic boy. " I told thee that I would have thy name," said Gessler, with a triumphant smile, "and it is well I did so. Thou art the son of Tell ; reveal the place of thy father's hiding, or thou shalt never see father or-mother more." "I would not reveal my own name, and thinkest thou that I 'would give up my father to thee ? Put me to ten thousand cruel deaths—l will brave them all, and tell thee to the last that this is an ill requite to one who save& thee from death by the wolves, and led thee by the torrent and through the storm in safety." "I am not safe, Austria is not safe, while - thy father lives, and he shall starve on the mountain tops while thou shalt remain with me. Bincl,lairn,. guards!" " Bind me! never will Ibe bound. Keep aloof, soldiers I", uttered the youth with a defying voice, and , stepping some paces apart. "Seize him V' vociferated the gov ernor. But the moment `*the soldiers advanced to do so, Albert made a spring toward the edge of the high rocks he and the governor had mount ed. after they had passed the torrent. Standing there for a moment, he called, oat, " I defy thee, Austrian 1 the son of Tell will Aot betray his, father." At the same moment, folding Ms arms, and rolling himself up like a ball, he threw himself down the mountain steep and disappeared. " Fire at him, shoot him I let lAim not escape !" cried the governor, with frantic gestures. He with the soldiers advanced close to the head of the ra vine, but nothing could be seen and nothing heard but the rattling of rough stones against the rock, and one solitary plunge in the torrent stream below. Such was the devotedness of Al bert, the son of Tell. And He who was beside him in the tempest, and with him in the darkness, was near him in the torrent, whose waters re ceived him as a bed of down. Dread ful was the descent .and fearful the plunge, but the youth escaped tmin- Jared ; and before the morning sun appeared, had fulfilled his mission and returned to his father With efficient help. This story is one of many that teach us what boys can do. The relation of such heroic devotion ought to sink deeply into all hearts which in this world of peril may be called upon to male heroic sacrifice and stern devotion to faithfulness and ,truth.—Heroism of Boyhood. THE "SAD AND BEAUTIFUL" COM MINGLED. As I was passing down Broadway on Sabbath evening, en route to old John Street Church, I witnessed one of the saddest, and at the same time one of the most beautifully touching scenes wbiela occur in a lifetime. On a, certain corner, surrounded by a group, of miscellaneous , observer* a ,young i beautiful, and well-dressed wife was waiting upon, and seeking to arouse from his stupor, her inebri 'ated husband, who had sunk down upon the pavement "dead' drunk." With his hand in hers; she said little, but the tears which trickled down her cheeks indicated how deeply sad ,were the thoughts of the moment. Retried to speak kindly to,lier, as with thick tongue and incolient s words, he said, " Don't stay any more with Me, Lizzie -, Tm drunk." When-some-of the crowd near by laughed; she turned, toward them and administered a most severe yet silent rebuke. , Faithfully she tar ried. Once the htilsbandtried to rise and walk; but in vain. Re had' swallowed the poisonous draught once too often; he sank again on the soiled PaVernent- -Two of, the Metropolitan, poliee stood. near, and their stout nerves, trembled and their eyes filled ' with tears as they looked upon the scene. As I passed away, they stepped for ward, 'scattered the 'rade part' of th , crowd i and seemed to speak :ay - ten=' derly . to .the young' wile. I -cle not' lichen they'''carriect the husband to the 4ock-up.-- -1 4-New Iskt CoroNot 44411"#: A SONG OF HOME. 0 city, golden bright! Transparent as the day 1 How softly shines thlidistantelight; • For pilgrims far awcifkr Thy joy, serene saki:mire,. f • en now pervades my,bnast;;- On God's foundations built secure, Thy jasper bulwarks rest. • There dwell the ransomed host, So safe, so satisfied! And thither shall the Holy Ghost Lead home His chosen bride. -No more earth's Nvailing.cry I For God shall wipe ea& bitter tear; , And hush each heaving sigh. Sweet home of peace and love ! By faith thy light I see, Diffusing from the realms above • Celestial radiancy. 0 sun, that rulds the day, Stind still ; and hear the tale To add`one single glory'ray Thy brightest beams would fail! Far moon—diSpelling night, The city needs not thee ; God and the Lamb shall there the light, The light and temple be. The blood-bought.dons of God, , Shall walk those streets of gold, Rejciicing ever with their Lord, In ecstacies untold. I, too, when-toil is o'er, Those blissful courts shall gain, Where praise resoundeth evermore; And love supreme shall reign. 0 city, golden bright I TranSparent as the day! How softly Rhines thy distant light, For pilgrims far away! ' • - • --British Herald LITTLE YELLOW-THROAT. It is said that we have over forty different species of the warbler that', flit among the branches of our North ern forests. In a certain garden,:sur rounded by trees, there was a nest of these _songsters. - Among the • thick leaves - of the linden-tree, the little nest was built, and there the tiny eggs were laid, and there hatched. The nestlings were very small at first, but at length they grew till the font. little birds, al: together, weighed just one ounce. No mother could be, more anxious and careful than the*parentNid;: or more joyful than on tha:day when they could leave the nest and try their wings. At first they could only flut ter a little way before falling on the ground, but by degrees they gathered strength and courage, till they, could flit from tree to tree `anywhere in the garden: Here they had their home, and here most of them were very happy. The old' bird taught them how to sing, how to fly, and where to find the best food. But the youngest of her family; whose name was "Yel low-Throat,' perhaps the fairest and most beautiful of all the young brood, seemed to have a discontented. spirit. 'She was difficult to please ; her food' was seldom right; the dews of the morning were too cool; the heat of the day was too great; the songs of her sisters were not in chord; or some thing was always wrong. Of course this spirit grew upon her, till her life was unhappy, and her presence made others unhappy. Atlength she gradu ally withdrew from society, and lived more and more alone. In vain her friends tried to draw her back into society, but poor Yellow-Throat had made up her mind that she ought to be unhappy, and-she would be. 'She now began to fly to the tops of the trees and look out over the wall, to see bow the world looked beyond the, garden. One day, as she sat thus peering about, she saw, apparently not very far dis tant, a large lake and a beautiful look ing island in its centre: "0, what a beautiful lake!" cried' Yellow-Throat ; " how delightful it would be to fly - over that smooth water and sae' one's self - reflected- from it ; as, from a great looking-glass And how delightful to be on that island, all alone, there to sing a song so sweet that even the mermaids would come up from the lake to listen. How I wish I was there ! I can be there! I will be there!" She then laid her plans how she would get up early next morning, and without stopping to eat, would fly away to that sweet island. The morn ing came, and as soon as the sun was well up, little Yellow-Throat turned her back upon mother and home, de .spising her beautiful garden,_and with out a farewell word to any one, or even a kind look, she lifted herself up on the wing, and in a few minutes was on her way to the lake. Alas! when she got' to it, instead of being smooth as• a mirror, the waves were tossing and dashing ;• the wind blew laid from the island, and it looked a great way off. Bat the poor thing was ashamed to, go back; for she knew that ere this they would All know her folly, and so she flew for ward, Cold and strong blew the wind, and on darted little Yellow-Throat, till at last, almoif; dead 'With fatigue:she reached the island, and dropped down On' it,. panting for breath. But instead of finding the beautiful spot she ex pentad, she found its, shores all rocks,. not*g,on,# but clujnpu of Norway, pines, through which winds sucked whistled,_ . Not a bird nor a happy thing lived it. Poor Yellow-T hroat 1 how different from' what her iriaa,gina tiontiiirited I 'SO she ` nestled down in the crevice of a rock, and waited and araitelitill the next , morning should re 'turn. 3Atifistit dick:aura, but the wind .had shifted; andFnowito get back to the main .land ALkain , she . bad _to go far, trunk the place , she; ;came from. But. .•;J! , No more a care or fear BY REV. JOHN TODD, D.D she felt that she must get there, or die herev And so, picking up a few ants That were creeping over the r for kertlartakfaoo slap, agai4l:madc;for the kiore.gThe*ind helped herfhoW, and she was not so mubh. - exhaiisted, by the journey. She enteied *a": Jar& orchard, where the trees were large, and it seemed like going into a very land of plenty. But on the first tree on which she alighted, she came near, losing her life; for, , oii - gOircrto - sleep a few moments to rest her, ale barely awaked soon enough to escape the Spring of a monster cat, creeping toward ' , herr with his , great;grar eyes= wide open. " 0," said the poor bird, "how r l wish I was again at home, with my dear, dear mother, and broth-, ers and sisters. But I don't know which way the garden lies, and cannot find it. What.a foolish thing I was. And now I must die with hunger, for I find none of the sweet millet seed so abundant in my home." At length she noticed a large flock of little birds coming and going to and from a farmer's granery. They had found a place where they could enter and steal as much food as they pleased. Yellow-Throat knew it was wrong to steal, but thought she - might , <do - as others did. So in she rushed with the rest, and filled her crop ; but alas I just as a great flock were coming out, a, farmer's boy fired his gun loaded with very fine shot, directly among them. One shot struck poor Yellow-Throat, and'she had Strength only to fly and drop over the fence, to die. And these were her dying. words : "Alas ! I am dying here,away from home and friends, and all for my folly. 0 that I could warn every bird, and every boy, and every girl, to be con tented with what God hath given them, and not try to better their condition by wishing and longing for change." THE VERY REASON WHY. A few years since, a gentlerna,n of large means, and larger Christian heart, moved into an inland - city, to take charge off extensive manufactories. He was soon waited upon by ;some brethren of the same denomination as himself, and politely invited to unite himself with- their church, , assuring, him of the most cordial welcome from pastor and people. "But, is there not another church in the city ?" asked be. "1 think I have heard there was." " 0, yes," answered one of the num ber; " but it is a poor, feeble band just struggling, for existence." " Then, brethren," said. the true ser vant of Christ, ". that is the very reason why I wish to join them. They need my labor and my aid.' I may be of real service to them; while you:- are strong, and can well do without my assistance." "But your family, my dear sir, I fear they will not find congenial society —will not feel at home. I assure, you they are almost entirely a laboring class of people, with but little refine ment or culture among them." "That, again, is the very reason why I prefer going there. I wish my family to be accustomed . to seek the good of others. before the gratification of their, own tastes.. I should love to have tliern follow the example. of their. Loll, who ' pleased not himself,' And in that way I am sure they will find their own happiness best secured?' The good insn'has bad the joy of seeing, not only that feeble 'band be come prosperous and strong, and that largely through his prayers and efforts, but also of assisting in planting yet another-vigorous branch of the same vine in another, .part , of the. city. THE WITHERED HOD AND,'HEART It is a f Sabbath morning; and its doors thrown open as the hour of worship: approaches, the synagogue begins to fill. Among those who enter, is a man with - a withered hand ; and however others come, thpre is haste in his step, and high ex pectation seated on his brow. Blessed day, now is his chance to be hetded. -Jesus is in the neighborhood, and is sure to be at worship. Early there, like the first, ,, this crippled man, heeding nothing else, looking at none, talking with none; keeps, his eye on the door, keenly observing all who enter, and Often, as it opens and Christ appears not, disappointed. Atflength the feet off a group are heard; again 'the door opens; and the eol?r, that flushes his face tells, that the (person has now come whom he has come to meet. Nor is this all he, can do, and does. Observing where 'Jesus, at tend= ed, by his disciples, sits, he rises, and elbowing 'the Crowd aside without gard to their challenge or Murmurs', pul3hes on to place' `himself before 'the Sariouri. right in.his eye. All this be. - can ,do, and does, and more. qrilinarily_poacealing a deformity he was ashamed of, he now dropi his robe,.and exposing the poor ~nnsightly. itaiickin the - hope that it may catch ; ) Chilk's eye and' moire his pity,,intSi withlooks fixed imploringly on 'rain' - Lord2:' There 'ills no need forint:il l to speak:' , .- His eager looks and-the - poOr, bared, - . withered hand' Lwere' tiniehing Ptay.erse: Nor,did theft prayers' 'wait long for an answer: Ttie.l eye' that. never saw misery j but to pity it, is st lengturlneti On him; and Jesus says, ; Stretch out thine band Strange corn wand to others, perhaps also. 19 Hint isell,-ailiidding him To the very thing, he had no power to, do. Still he tries !it Again doing9What 'lie can, he makes an effort, and, Glory to God ! bursting , from his lips, succeeds. Virtue goes out of Christ. The shrunken hand in.. stantly acquires a healthy color, and ':swells into its right proportions. In his joy the man shuts and opens it; -moves the pliant fingers, and holds the miracle aloft to the gaze of a crowd, dumb with astonishment. Give him a sharp, and with that hand he would -sweep it stringy to the praise of Jesus. Pattern to men who have souls to be saved,,unallearts,to cure, he did what die.could r ausing.all .means. within his power to obtain the blessing. And did people with equal.eagerness repair 'to the church on 'Sabbath as he to the synagogue, tia meet Jesus Christ, and with the same earnestness and the same faith, lay out their sins and soul's sorrows before, Hip, our •Sabbaths would witness greater work than this. He who healed that Withered hand, healing withered hearts, and 'whether they required to be saved or sanctified, giving power to thein that have no might.--Sunday Magazine. BOASTING. Anna Strong was a Sad little boast er. Though'' shemeant to' speak the truth, she was so vain' and thoughtless that no one ootild'believe She always wanted a - long lesson. She would say; "I can learn it all—it isnot too hard for me;" though, when her class was called out to recite, she was often sent , back to her seat to study. If anything was to be done at home or at school, Anna would always say, "I know how—ylease let me "do it;" even if it Was a thing she 'could not do at all. Miss Eaton was Anna's teacher. One day she wished , some one=to point to the names of the large ciities- on a large- map, so that all the,girts in the class might know where to find them. " 0 let me do it," said. Anna • " I linow how as well as can be." "Yes, you may do it, said Miss Eaton ; but Anna could not point 'to a single name that her teacher called_ "You are like a silly little pigeon I used to hear about when I was a little girl," said her. teadher. A bright-eyedlittle girl, raising her right hand, said, ‘` 0, please tell us about the pigeon." , " The story," replied Miss Eaton, ‘,‘ is, that when the pigeon first came into the world, all the other birds came and offered to teach her how to build a nest. " The cat-bird showed her its nest, all made of Sticks L.nd bark ; and the sparrows showed her theirs, which were woven with moss and hair. But the pigeon, walking about in, a very vain way, and turning her head from side to side, said : 'I know how to build my nest as well as the best of you' " Then the blackbird' showed his nest, which was fastened to some reeds and 'swung over the water; and the turtle-dove said hers was easier to build than all, for it was quite flat. and made only of sticks laid together. But the pigeon turned her pretty head as before, and said, 'I know how' "At last the birds left her. Then the pigeon found that she did not know bow at all; and she went with out a nest until a man took pity on her, and built a pigeon -house, and .put some hay into it. "Now, children, though the story of the pigeon is only a, fable, and not true, yet you may learn from, it a very useful lesson. "Little boys and girls who are vain boasters, are laughed at by others, and only deceive themselves. Like the silly pigeon, they say, 'I know how; but they often find, to their sor row, when it is too late, that they do not. -- • r ?Es " Remember, dear children m , that when you once learn to do anything well, you will not need to boast of it ' "f CANNOT, SIR." 'A young man—we will call him Honest Frank—who loved truth, was a' clerk in the office of some rich mer chants. One day a letter came, recall ing an order for goods which had been received the day before. One of the merchants handed it to Honest Frank, and, with a persuasive smile, said :-- "Frank, reply to this note. Say, The goods were shipped before the receipt of ..this letter countermanding the order."" Frank' looktd into his employer's face With j- a sad but firm glance, and hrepfied,— "I cannot;' -why not, girl"- asked the Mer chant, angrily. "Becausothetroods are now in the yardi and it would be a lie, sir." a I hope y4ll. will always be so pak tlealF, a r s ,epAied the merchant, turning neon his heel and going away. Honest Frank did a bold as well as la right th ht klg. W tilt do you suppose .happened him ? Lost 'place! No; quite' different. The merchant was too - )sihrewd to turn away one who wooldn't write a kmg letter. He kiih*.the value or a youth; an i d , d mitead of turn„,: .uu away, matte ni his confOi o it clerk —Sunday 400 l Advocate.
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