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can't think of anybody but Uncle Jacob; he comes here to the spring for water. I've seen him."

"The old stingy nigger," said Rueben.

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Boys, I tell you what," exclaimed Jack, rising from the ground as he spoke. "We know now how he felt when he found his apples had been stolen, and I for one am right glad he's got them back. I am sure I hope he has."

"Stealing!" repeated Charley. "Who calls taking a few apples from a tree stealing?

They said no more, for that moment they saw Uncle Jacob coming towards the brook with the water-pail in his hand. Feeling very guilty, and not prepared to make any confession, they ran off behind some trees, not, however, before Uncle Jacob had seen and recognized them from their behaviour as the young t thieves.

Reuben and Charley soon forgot their disappointment and mortification. But the more Jack thought of his share of the guilt, the more deeply he felt humiliated. He knew what was honest and honourable; he was heartily ashamed of his conduct.

He resolved at last to stop at Uncle Jacob's on his way home. He did not dare to tell the boys of his resolution; he knew they would ridicule and laugh, and perhaps persuade him to abandon his purpose. He allowed them to go on before him, and then, when they were out of sight, he walked on rapidly until he stood by Uncle Jacob's little gate. The old man was raking up the dry leaves in his garden, and Aunt Lizzie sat with her knitting in her hand on the doorstep.

"Aunt Lizzie," said Jack-everybody who knew her called her Aunt Lizzie-"I am very sorry I took your apples last night. I didn't think so then, but I think now it was a real mean and dishonest trick."

"Dear me," said Aunt Lizzie in surprise, putting down her knitting. "I didn't know it was you; I wouldn't have thought it of you."

Jack felt still more humbled.

"Uncle Jacob knew I was one of the fellows.

He saw

me running away from the chesnut-tree this morning." "He didn't tell," said Aunt Lizzie. "Lor, don't say anything more; it's all right; the apples are safe enough now."

"I won't do it again, I promise you," said Jack; "and you'll see, Aunt Lizzie, I won't forget you."

"It did go pretty hard against us this morning, but the old man said the Lord knows best, and so it has turned out."

"I am glad it has, I am sure," said Jack, turning away with a lighter heart.

He did not forget his promise, and when Thanksgiving and Christmas days came Jack remembered the old people in the little red house.

"You see the Lord knows best, Aunt Lizzie,” said Uncle Jacob. "I always told you so, and maybe you'll believe

me now."

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Yes, I think I must after this," she said, putting away in her cupboard some dainties Jack had induced his mother to send from her own table.

"His way is best after all."-New York Methodist.

THE HANDS OF THE TIMEPIECE.

Onward, perpetually moving,
These faithful hands are proving
How quick the hours steal by.

This monitory pulse-like beating
Is constantly, methinks, repeating-
Swift, swift, the moments fly!”

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Reader, be ready; for, perchance, before
These hands have made one revolution more,
Life's spring is snapt !—you die !

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can a boy play? even to walk.

The Iron Boot.

HERE'S poor Johnnie Truman with his iron boot. I think it is real cruel in his mother making him wear it when he hates it?"

An iron boot! A boot with no give to it must be terribly cramping. How hard to the soft flesh; how rigid to the flexible muscles! Can the joints turn

on their sockets? With an iron boot on

Can he run? It must be dragging work Poor Johnnie! Did his mother put it on for a punishment? Did she do it to fetter him, as Mr. Day does his horse to hinder him from running away?"

"O mother," cries Johnnie, "do take this iron boot off. It almost kills me. I don't care if I am lame. I don't care if my legs are crooked. I don't care if my ankle is out of joint. I don't care how I am when I grow up. All I want is this off now ;" and Johnnie worried and fretted until almost the whole house was out of patience. He behaved as if his mother made him wear it on purpose to trouble him. Did she? Oh, no, no.

The bones in the little boy's right foot and ancle were soft. The bones bent and were growing out of their proper proportions, when his mother consulted a physician, who put his foot into an iron boot. It was done to support the bones, and keep them in place, until they should grow strong and healthy as bones in general. But Johnnie had no faith. He did not believe it would do any good. was sure, he said, it was no use; and therefore, instead of trusting his mother and doctor, and trying to be patient, he kept complaining. "Why don't you pull it off, and let him take the consequences?" said a woman, quite worn out by Johnnie's unreasonable conduct; "I would. "

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His mother looked grieved; but with eyes of pitying affection she stroked her little boy's hair, and said,—“ I must act for the future good of my child. Johnnie will one day thank me for it. If he would not dwell on it so, it would not be so hard to bear. Johnnie has a great deal to make him happy and good in spite of his iron boot, and that won't last long."

Johnnie hung down his head. He felt a little ashamed for he well knew in how many thonsand ways his mother tried to soothe and make him happy; and as for the boot it was only for his good.

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This year of sorrow and discipline at length passed away, and Johnie grew up to be a tall, handsome man, with strong limbs and a firm tread. And what do you think he oftenest said to his mother? Mother, I can't be too thankful that you persisted in making me wear that iron boot. I should have been a poor cripple to-day, but for you, mother, who bore so patiently with my complaining." Have you an iron boot on, my dear child? Every little trial which you have—and children have their trials-is the iron boot which your Father in heaven puts on you. Many a time you feel it pinching, and are ready to cry. fret and worry, and try to kick it off? Such conduct grieves God. He wants you to trust him and be patient. And as in numberless other ways He tries to make you happy, He desires you to dwell on the mercies which crown your days. That will cause you to exclaim,-" Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me bless His holy name," and make you happy, very happy in spite of trial. Byand-bye you will know why he tries you, and see and acknowledge how good and gracious were his purposes in every iron boot he caused you to wear.—Child at Home.

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"Would God my Lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria! for he would recover him of his leprosy."

* A brief article referring to the subject of this cut appeared on page 320 of the December "Hive."

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