any use, for he gets right down on his knees on the dirty sidewalk to play marbles. Oh! he's a nasty boy, and I don't like him to come near me."

"But you should be polite to him," said her mother. "I don't want to be polite to him," said Fanny. stops me on the stairs and asks me to play with him."

"He

"Oh! you must not do that," said her mother, "You must always come right home, and not stop to play in the street or in the halls; but when people speak to you, you must answer them, like a sweet little girl."

Fanny pouted out her lips.

"He stopped me again to-day, and you don't know what he said! O mamma! he said: You think you're somebody, 'cause your mammie is always dressin' you like Sunday;' and then he pulled at my frock, and I was afraid he'd tear the gathers out."

"That was wrong," said Fanny's mother, looking quite troubled; "but didn't you look cross at him? You must not look cross at people.”

"I can't help looking cross when I feel cross,” sáid Fanny.

And instead of heeding what her mother said, she kept on looking cross at Johnny, and so he kept on making faces at her.

One day, Johnny threw spit-balls across the class-room at Fanny. The teacher was watching him, though he did not know it.

"You bad boy, come here," said she, and she struck his fingers with the ruler, and boxed his ears. "You won't do that again," said the teacher. "Go to your seat now, and Fanny, my dear, you watch for any one who is bad. Mulligan, stop your noise, or you'll get more."

Then she left the room a minute to borrow a numerical frame of another teacher, for hers was broken. When she came back, there was a tumult, and Fanny was crying.

"They wouldn't be good for me," said Fanny; "and Mul

ligan was the worst, and he threw spit-balls again, and he hopped up and down, and said I was a stuck-up gal."

This time Johnny's fingers were rapped so hard that they ached for half-an-hour. He did not cry much, but rubbed his poor hands together, and said to himself that he would pay Fanny off. She ran home very fast after school, hoping not to meet him, but he had run faster than she, and there he stood in the front door when she came in sight of it. He had his arms stretched out so that she could not pass him.

"Let me in," cried Fanny. "I'll tell my ma.” "I'll tell my ma!"" mocked he, " and I'll tell my ma, too! You mean thing, to tell on me as lives in your house. I wasn't no worse than the other boys, but you wanted to get me licked, so you did! I'll pay yer off!" “I didn't,” said Fanny;

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you were the worst, and what did you throw spit-balls in my face for ?—and you're all the the time making faces, and you don't know enough to wash your face."

Johnny turned very red.

"Don't cost you nothin' for the dirt on my face," cried he, "and 'ta'n't much dirty neither, and if 'tis, I don't care."

"You take your arms down," said Fanny, and she tried to pass him.

"You a❜n't no monitor now," said he, "and you can't tell me what to do;" and he took hold of her long curls and pulled them. Oh! how Fanny screamed, but her mother was too far away to hear her.

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You won't tell no more," said Johnny. "Go now and tell yer mammie, little baby-darlin', as the teacher calls yer; tell, and I'll pull harder next time. Go now, long curls!"

Fanny's mother was quite astonished to see her burst into the room crying very hard. She dropped her sewing, and took little Fanny on her lap.

"Do tell me what is the matter," said she.

hurt? Tell me, Fanny."

"Are you

"that

"It's that nasty, bad boy," said Fanny, sobbing; ugly Johnny in the next room. Oh how I hate him!" Fanny, it is not good to talk in that way," said her mother.

"He pulled my hair," sobbed Fanny. and then she told her mother all about it.

"I would rather you wouldn't be monitor," said her mother. "Ask the teacher to choose some one else."

"I will, to-morrow," said Fanny, "I don't want to be monitor ever again. But, O mamma! won't you move away from this place?-please do. The fat man in the front room trod on my toes this morning, and it hurt so— and all the people here are ugly."

"They are poor," said her mother, "but they are not all ugly. You should not dislike them because they haven't money. We are poor too.”

"It isn't nice to be poor," said Fanny. "I don't want to be poor. I want to be rich, like we used to be. I wish papa could come back from heaven, and then we could have a nice house all to ourselves, and nice things to eat-and then you wouldn't have to sew all day. I saw strawberries to-day. Oh! how I wanted some-but we can't get anything any more."

when they get only earn a few

"You shall have some strawberries cheaper,” said her mother. "You know I shillings a day, and there's the rent to pay. I can't afford to buy berries while they are so dear."

"Oh! I know," said Fanny, "and we have to eat just bread and butter alone most all the time. I don't think

God loves us any more. You used to say, 'God loves us, and gives us all these good things;' but we have no good things now that father is buried in the cemetery."

The mother was crying now, and that made Fanny stop talking. She put her little arm around her mother's neck.

"Don't cry mamma.

I was naughty to make you cry.

don't cry, mamma, please don't."

The mother kissed her darling, and tried to smile through

her tears.

"God loves us always," said she, "and some day He will send His angels to take us to that better world, where there is no hunger or sorrow-to heaven, where your dear papa is; and we must not want our own way, we must not be cross, but love God always. It is hard to be poor, but-" "Oh! dreadful hard!" interrupted Fanny.

“Yes,” said her mother softly, "but Jesus was poor, and had not where to lay His head."

"Jesus, who died for us," said Fanny, putting her little hands together. "I won't be cross any more about being poor. I want to be good, and go to Jesus when I die."

Just then they heard a knock at the door. Fanny opened it, and who should stand there but Johnny! He had a clean apron on, and he had washed his face and hands with soap. Fanny did not know when she had seen him look so nice. He held out two great oranges.

'Mother bought a dozen at the market down-town, and she says there's one for little Fanny, and one for you, ma'am; and please, ma'am, I pulled your little girl's hair, and I am sorry, and I won't do it again, and I won't make faces, because I am bigger than her, and it's mean, my brother William says."

After that, whenever Fanny met Johnny, she smiled, and he smiled back; there were no more faces made, and there were no more quarrels.

HIS is often one of the mosi beautiful appearances seen in the heavens. By the superstitious it has been thought to be a sign of some coming calamity, as war, famine, or pestilence. But as people become wiser, such notions are given up and abandoned.

The Aurora assumes various appearances at different times, and often differs also in degrees of brightness. It has sometimes been so vivid as to be seen in daylight. Recently there have been some wonderful appearances of this phenomena, 'which