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the tones of his voice were sweet and musical, like the notes of a lute. He was captivated with the young stranger, and was about to express both his thanks and his assent to the proposal, when he observed a frown upon the brow of the old man, at their side. At the same time this grave stranger said, "Do you know, young man, the name of this person under whose guidance you are about to place yourself?"

"I do not," said Myron, "nor do I care to know it. The fair face and soft speech of the young man, assure me of his kindness and fidelity; and I am willing to place my happiness in his hands. Come," said he, "let us depart on our journey, and leave this haughty old man to his musings."

With this rude speech, Myron turned on his heel, and taking the arm of the youth, they were about to depart, when the sage spoke to Myron, saying, "The time may come, young man, when you will need a friend: when such an occasion arrives, and you are ready to abide by safe counsel, call for me, and I will obey your summons. My name is Truth!"

The two youths now departed, laughing heartily at the old codger, as they called him, whom they left behind. After a short space Myron asked the name of his companion-as a mere matter of curiosity. "Oh," said the young man, "that old fellow, Truth, calls me Falsehood, but I pass under the various titles of Pleasure, Fancy, and Follyaccording to the humor I am in. One day, when I sport with the flowers, they name me pleasure; and at another time, when I play with the sunbeams, they call me fancy; and again, when I give myself up to mirth or wine, they call me folly."

"But do you do all these things?" asked Myron, in some wonder.

"To be sure I do, and many others,"

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The two companions took the left hand path as suggested, and for some time it led them among pleasant valleys, and sweet lawns, and the most enchanting landscapes. At last they came to a scene more beautiful than any they had met. Groups of lofty trees were scattered here and there over a grassy slope, the verdure of which was like velvet. In the middle of this spot was a fountain, and the waters being thrown into the air, fell in glittering showers, making at the same time a sound of entrancing music. Amid the forest bowers, were birds of gorgeous plumage, and their song was more lovely than that of the nightingale.

Myron was delighted. He had never before seen anything SO beautiful. Again and again he thanked his guide for the pleasure he had bestowed upon him. So absorbed was he in the scene, that he forgot his journey, and it was not till the sun began to set behind the hills that he was called to reflection. He then asked his guide where they were to spend the night. The reply was evasive, and Myron did not fail to remark that a sinister smile came over the face of his friend, as he said-"Let us go forward, we shall find a lodging in due time."

The two proceeded, but they had not gone far before the clouds began to thicken, and in a short space it was intensely dark. The road grew rough and thorny, and at last Myron fell over a stone of considerable size. with difficulty, and when he called for his companion, he was not to be found. Nothing could exceed the amazement

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and terror of the young traveller; for now he began to hear the cries of wild animals, and in a short space he could make out the form of a lion, stealing upon him, through the darkness.

glasses, turning spits, and handing liquor round to company at table.

M. Grandpry, a French gentleman describes one that he had on board a vessel. She had learnt to heat the oven; she took great care not to let

The words of the old man whom he had treated so rudely, now flashed upon his memory-and in the agony of the moment he called out, " Truth-Truthcome to my aid, and be my guide!" These words were uttered aloud, and with such energy, that Myron awoke from his dream, his heart beating, and his body covered with a cold perspiration. But the vision seemed to bear a wholesome meaning, and the words, which broke from his lips in the moment of his fancied peril, became the rule of his after life. He rejected falsehood, which promises fair, and for a 5 time tempts us with darling pleasures, but leads us into scenes of terror and distress, and leaves us helpless at the hour of our utmost need. He made Truth his friend and guide, and was both successful and happy in the great journey of life.

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The Chimpansé.

THIS is a species of ape, found on the western coast of Africa. He is more like a man than any other of the fourhanded race, and is the only one that can easily walk erect. He is often seen walking with a cane in the woods. The negroes say that he is a kind of man, and only refuses to talk because he is afraid of being made to work.

These creatures live in the woods, and sometimes attack the natives with clubs and stones. The Europeans, who live in the settlements along the coast, have trained some of these creatures so that they perform various kinds of labor, such as bringing water in jugs, rinsing out

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any of the coals fall out, which might have done mischief in the ship; and she' was very accurate in observing when the oven was heated to the proper degree, of which she immediately apprized the baker, who, relying with perfect confidence upon her information, carried his dough to the oven as soon as the chimpansé came to fetch him. This animal performed all the business of a sailor; spliced ropes, handed the sails, and assisted at unfurling them; and she was, in fact, considered by the sailors as one of themselves. The vessel was bound for America, but the poor animal did not live to see that country, having fallen a victim to the brutality of the first mate, who inflicted very cruel chastisement upon her, which she had not deserved. She endured it with the greatest patience, only holding out her hands in a

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cane, in the West Indies, Louisiana, and South America. The sugar-cane is a jointed reed, of a fine straw color, grow ing from eight to fourteen feet high. It terminates at the top in blade-shaped leaves, the edges of which are finely notched. Its flowers form a delicate silver-colored cluster.

When the cane is about a year old, it is cut and crushed between iron rollers, which press out the juice. This is then conducted into large copper boilers, and by various processes of boiling and cooling, it is at last made into sugar, and molasses, the latter being the liquid part that drips from the sugar. In the process of manufacture, a good deal of lime and bullocks' blood are mixed with the juice of the cane, and these assist in refining the sugar.

A very interesting discovery has lately been made in this country, which is, that the stalks of Indian corn, if the ears are cropped just after they begin to set, will produce more sugar than the cane. Accordingly a machine for the crushing of the stalks has been contrived, and a model of it may be seen at the patent office at Washington. It is said that a single acre of ground will yearly produce a ton of sugar, and it is believed that sugar will soon be raised in abundance in all the western states, in this way. The stalks make excellent fodder for cattle, after the juice is crushed out. Sugar is now regarded as one of the necessaries of life, and about 600,000 tons, or 120,000,000 of pounds are annually produced. Yet it seems that sugar was not known to the Greeks or Romans, and it is never mentioned in the Bible. It was, in fact, only known as a medicine, till modern times. In the tenth century it took the place of honey in the druggist's shop, and was chiefly used in fevers, to relieve them.

The sugar-cane was found growing wild in the West Indies, by Christopher

Columbus. The art of refining sugar so as to make it white, was discovered in the sixteenth century, by a Venetian, who made a vast fortune by it.

Dialogue on Politeness.

I

Louisa. Good morning, mother. have been in search of you for the last half hour. Julia and I have been talk ing very earnestly on a certain subject, but we do not agree at all in our opinions; so I have come to you to get yours. I rather think you will be "on my side," as I suppose I have learnt to judge a little as you do; as is very natural I should, mother.

Mother. I should certainly be very sorry, my dear, if your mind and opinions were not influenced by mine. But what is the question which has excited. such animated discussion? Some new style of bonnet, or the manner of singing the last new song?

L. Neither, mother; but something much more important. We have been talking of the manners of two of our schoolmates, Matilda Hervy and Caroline Perkins. Julia prefers Caroline's manners, and I prefer Matilda's. Julia thinks Caroline a perfect pattern of po

liteness.

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those who can do her kindnesses in return. Can a person be truly polite, mother, without a kind heart and a wellprincipled mind?

M. I think not, Louisa. I have myself to-day been the witness of something quite apropos to our subject. In riding in the omnibus from Cambridge, this morning, I observed among the passengers two young men, about the age of your brother Albert, apparently collegians, who, from their intercourse, I judged to be intimate friends-probably classmates; but there was a marked difference in their manners and appearance. One of them, to some personal advantages added elegance of dress, and a voice the tones of which were particularly musical when he addressed a pretty and fashionable lady opposite him. If, by the jolting of the carriage, he accidentally touched the hem of her garment, he apologized most gracefully; and he was evidently regarded by the whole party as a most polite young man. The classmate had nothing remarkable in his appearance, bearing none of the externals of polite life. Suddenly the bell rang, and we stopped to take up a woman, who had with her a large bundle, which, as we were already crowded uncomfortably, she retained in her arms. The last mentioned young man, seeing that she was heavily burdened, and looked weak and sickly, kindly told her to allow him to hold the bundle for her. There was instantly a smile exchanged between the lady and the well-dressed collegian, with unrepressed glances of contempt at the bundle, accompanied with loud hints about vulgarity, &c. This conduct was observed by the woman, and seemed to hurt her feelings much. However, she did not ride far, and when the coach stopped, her kind young friend assisted her out with as much consideration as VOL. III. 8

if she were a princess. This little incident pleased me much.

L. Really, mother, I should think there was precisely the difference between Matilda and Caroline, as between the two collegians. Caroline's kind acts and polite words are always for the rich, the high-born, or the fashionable. Matilda delights in doing favors to those who can make her no return. She looks upon all as her fellow-creatures—never seeming to think of their station in life. She treats the poor, wherever she finds them, as her "neighbors," in the Bible sense of the word. She has made many a widow's heart to sing for joy, and she is truly a good Samaritan.

M. You are enthusiastic, my dear, in praise of your friend. I shall certainly give my opinion in favor of Matilda, whose politeness is evidently the politeness of the heart; and though a person may sometimes be sneered at for practising it toward the poor and humbie, he will generally be respected, and always have more influence than he who is only polite to a few for interest's sake. I hope, my dear, as you appreciate Matilda's worth, you will make her your model. I am very glad my daughter loves such a character, as we almost always imitate what we admire. person who is polite and kind to all, enjoys the highest kind of satisfaction; for he knows that in loving his neighbor, he also obeys God.-[Young Ladies' Friend.]

A

MISTRESS AND SERVANT.-A lady, the other day, meeting a girl, who had lately left her service, enquired, "Well, Mary, where do you live now?"

Please, madam, I don't live nowhere now," rejoined the girl; “I am married."

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