Mr. Bradley jumped out of his chaise, and saw that his trunk, which was strapped underneath his carriage, was unfastened at one end, so that a sudden jolt might have loosened it altogether, and he would have lost it without knowing where it had gone.

"You are very kind, my little lad," said the gentleman, "to take all this trouble; you have saved me from losing my trunk, and I feel much obliged to you."

"You are welcome," answered the boy.

"And now, are you tall enough to hold my horse, while I fasten the trunk as it should be ?" said Mr. Bradley.

"Oh, yes, sir," said the boy, stepping up and taking hold of the bridle. He held the horse until Mr. Bradley was ready to start, and then said, "Good night, sir," and was stepping away.

Stop a moment," said Mr. Bradley,

taking a twenty-five cent piece from his pocket, "here is a piece of money to pay you for your trouble, and I feel very grateful to you beside."

"No, sir," said the boy, drawing himself up erect, and casting his eye full in the gentleman's face, "do you think I would take money for such a thing as that?"

'Ah," said Mr. Bradley, as he related the story to me, "I saw by his noble look that he had run from half to three quarters of a mile, for the sake of doing a kindness to a stranger, and not for the hope of pay; and I could not find it in my heart to urge him to take the money, for I knew that the thought of having done good was a greater reward than money could have been. So I bade him 'good night' and he ran toward home, while I gave the whip to my horse, and again rode briskly on; but I often think of that journey to New Hampshire, and

the noble-hearted boy who lived among the Hills."

THE MOTHER AND THE ROBINS.

THE month of February 18- was unusually mild for the climate of New England. There was a long succession of clear, sunny days, which caused the snows to disappear, and released the earth in many places from the frost. Then there came a fall of rain, and then another series of fine warm days. March opened in the same pleasant manner. It seemed as if spring had come in good earnest. The birds thought so, and began to make their appearance. First, you heard the blue bird's sweet notes, which he seemed to utter to announce his coming, and to invite you to look out

for him. Then he showed himself on a distant tree in his blue coat and white pantaloons. Then you heard the robin's note, and looking up, you saw him on the tree beside the house, in his brown coat and red waistcoat. Certainly it looked and sounded like spring.

Mary and Isaac (who were twins) were out in this fine weather, as you may well suppose. They asked their mother, many times in the day, if spring had yet come? She told them that there would be cold weather and snow yet.

Now

once asking was sufficient. If, after the continuance of the fine weather, they had asked her again, it would not have been improper; but thus to keep asking her every day, and many times in a day, was highly improper. It would seem to show that they paid very little attention to what she said, or that they did not believe her. It was, in fact, owing to a habit into which children often fall-the

habit of asking unnecessary questions. I hope the reader has not formed this habit. If he has, I hope he will correct it at once, for it is a very unpleasant and annoying one.

There were a couple of robins who had passed the winter in a neighbouring swamp. They were rather indolent in the autumn, and were not ready to go south when the robins' caravan started.

While they were considering what was to be done, whether it was best to set out alone or not, winter set in, and they were obliged to seek such shelter as they could find.

They went into a swamp and found a hollow tree. They climbed up the inside of it as far as they could, and lay as close together as possible. As it was a very mild winter, they did not perish, though they came very near it.

When the warm days of which I have spoken came, they thought it was spring,