There is no sin in being tempted, if we do not yield to the temptation. But Robert indulged the desire, and only refrained from indulging it through fear of his father. He wished to have Matthew throw, and encouraged him to do so. He was guilty of disobedience, though not quite so guilty as Matthew. Still he

escaped punishment for a time.

Mr. Merwin was a strong man, and did not spare the rod when he took it in hand. Matthew did not at all relish its application. When he had got over crying, and had brushed the stripes out of his clothes, he came in a sheepish manner into the piazza, where his father, and brothers, and sisters were sitting. They were all very happy, except Robert, whose conscience told him that he ought to be punished as well as Matthew. Matthew had just seated himself, when the stranger above-mentioned came up. "How do you do, Governor H—?”

said Mr. Merwin, with the cordiality of an old friend. He next introduced him to the family. The Governor shook hands with Abel, but only bowed coldly to Matthew. He became a guest of the family for several days. He was very affable, and talked a great deal with the ladies and with Abel, but never spoke to Matthew except when politeness rendered it absolutely necessary. Matthew felt this very keenly. He knew that he deserved the treatment that he received, but that did not make it any more plea

sant.

When Governor H― took his leave, he gave Abel a kind invitation to come to see him, and promised to write to him. This he did not long after. In his letter he commended him for the good principles he had exhibited, gave him some hints for the further improvement of his character, and suggested some ways in which he might be useful to his brothers.

Abel felt in all this that the rewards of obedience were meted out to him in rich abundance.

THE PRINCE OF MAY.

THOU art not Prince of Wales, my boy,
No coronet is thine;

Perchance among the great on earth

Thou art not born to shine:
Yet doth thy mother fondly say,
Thou art her darling, Prince of May!

Thine is no sounding name, my boy,
Of ancient high-born race;
Thy lineage on the scrolls of earth
Few eyes may care to trace:
Yet doth thy father proudly say,

Thou art his first-born, Prince of May!

But though no royal rank, my boy,

Or earthly state, be thine;

Yet if among the saints on high

Thou art new-born to shine,

Thy mother's heart will hail the day
That welcomed in her Prince of May!

And though no high-born name, my boy,
In earth's proud books be scrolled,
Yet if within God's Book of Life
Thy name is found enrolled,
Thy Father's heart will day by day
Delight to bless his Prince of May!

Then let thy parents' prayers, my boy,
In unison ascend,

Unto the throne of God on high,
That He thy heart may bend,
And make thee willing in His day
To be His chosen Child of May!

"THE son of a poor miner," says history, "who was born in 1483; that is, nearly 370 years since."

"Well, but what did he do," says the young questioner, "that his name is remembered so long after he himself is dead and gone?"