of my heart. I thought then I wished I could die, and be buried with her; and old as I now am, I would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude.

But I cannot call her back; and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me will "bite like a serpent, and sting like an adder."

NO PAY-NO WORK.

"LITTLE boy, will you help a poor old man up the hill with his load?"

These words were spoken by an old, grey-headed man, who was drawing a handcart, which contained a bag of corn for the mill.

"I can't-I'm in a hurry," said Hanson, the boy addressed.

He was in a hurry to get to the schoolhouse, that he might enjoy a few minutes' play with the boys before school began.

The old man sat down on a stone at the foot of the hill to rest himself, and gather strength for the ascent. He gazed after Hanson as he passed rapidly on, and sighed as he thought of the days of his youth, now so far off in the distance, and of the friends of his youth now in the grave. A tear was beginning to gather in his eye, when John Wilson came along, and said, "Shall I help you up the hill with your load, sir?".

The old man brushed his eyes with the cuff of his coat, and replied, “I shall be glad to have you; I have the rheumatism in my right arm so badly that it is of no use to me, and my left arm was never very strong."

He arose, and taking the tongue of his

cart, while John pushed behind, they ascended as rapidly as his faltering steps would permit. When they reached the top of the hill, they discovered a rent in the bag on the underside, from which the corn was escaping. With great effort, and at considerable expense of time, the bag was turned, so that there was no further loss of corn.

"I'm much obliged to you," said the old man, as John set out upon a run for the school-house; "and may the Lord reward you!" This last expression was not heard by John.

When John reached the school-house, he was about ten minutes too late, and in consequence received a mark for want of punctuality. This was a very unusual thing for him, as he was remarkable for punctuality and promptness. If he had told the teacher the cause of his detention, he would have been excused: but

H

he thought it would look a little like ostentation to do so.

After school, Hanson said to John, "What did you get a mark for?" "Because I wasn't here when school began," said John.

"I know that; but why were you not here in time? You were only a little ways behind me at the foot of the hill." "I know it."

"I suppose you stopped to help old Stenson up the hill with his grist. He tried to stop me, but I don't work for nothing."

"Nor I either."

"I know you don't; you got a märk for your job this morning, that's all that you got."

"You don't know that."

“Did you get anything else?"

"I didn't do it expecting to get anything for it."

"What did you do it for, then?" "Because I thought I ought to help the poor old man."

"It is the business of his relations to help him."

"It is everybody's business to help everybody who needs help."

"If you are a mind to be so foolish as to work for nothing, you may. No pay-no work,' is my motto."

"To be kind and tender-hearted,' is my motto," John might have said with truth; but he did not say so. John did not think he worked for nothing when he performed acts of kindness. In the first place, he had the approbation of his conscience, and he regarded that as worth something. In the second place, he had the pleasure of doing good, and regarded that as worth something. And in the third place, he had the gratitude and love of many, and he regarded that as worth something. And finally, he had the Di