Peter. Yes, sir. What now He looks rather

black. (Aside.)

Master. For what purpose do you imagine I bestow medals, once a week, on the best of my scholars?

Peter. To make the boys study, I believe, sir. Master. And why do I wish them to study? Peter. Why-to please their parents, I suppose, sir.

Master. I wish them to study for the same reason that their parents do that they may obtain knowledge. I have suspected, for some time, that you labor under a mistake upon this subject. You take great pleasure, I presume, in wearing home the medal, and your mother takes pleasure in seeing it.

Peter. Yes, sir; she does.

Master. And why? What does the medal say to her? Of what is it a sign?

Peter. Why, that I am the best scholar in my class.

Master. Is that what it says? I think it only shows that you have been at the head of the class oftener, during the week, than any other boy.

Peter. Well, sir; then, of course, she must think me the best scholar.

Master. She would naturally think so, for so it ought to be. But you know, Peter, and I know, that a boy who has no sense of honor, no generous feelings, no strictness of principle, may get to the head of the class, and get medals for a time, without being

the best scholar. You know how such a thing can be (accomplished, do you not? and how the medal may be made to tell a falsehood at home? (Peter hangs his head in silence.) Shall I tell you how I have seen it done? By base tricks; by purposely leading others into mistakes; by trying to confuse a boy, who knows his lesson sufficiently well, but is timid; by equivocations that are little short of lies, and are forerunners of unblushing lies. Now, sir, a boy who does these things is so weak-minded that he cannot see the proper use of medals, and thinks he is sent here to obtain them, instead of being sent here to gain knowledge to prepare him for future usefulness; and, under this mistake, he labors for the empty sign, instead of the thing itself. That shows (folly Then he becomes so intent on his object, as to care not by what means he obtains it. That shows wickedness want of principle. Have I any boy, in my school, of this description?

Peter. Yes, sir; but forgive me this time. I did not think you ever observed it.

So you

Master. The wicked are very apt to believe themselves more successful than they really are. concluded you had deceived me, as well as wronged your companions! Your tears are (unavailing, if by them you think I shall be persuaded to drop the subject here. You must be publicly exposed.

Peter. What, sir, when I have not told a lie? Master. You have not spent a day in perfect truth for weeks. I have watched you in silence, and close

ly for the last month; and I am satisfied that you have not merely yielded occasionally to a sudden teinptation, but that deception is an habitual thing with you; that, through life, you will endeavor to make you way by low knavery, if I do not root the mean vice out of you, and so save you from the contempt of men and the anger of God. Rest assured, your Maker looks on your heart as that of a liar. Go into school; and, as I am convinced, from reflecting on several circumstances which have taken place, that you had no just claim to the medal you now wear, I shall take it from you, and you must take your place at the foot of the the class.

Peter. And must I be publicly exposed, sir?

Master. Yes, sir; the reasons of your degradation shall be explained in the presence of all the scholars. I use the principle of emulation, in my school, to arouse talent and encourage industry; but I watch against its abuse. I endeavor to unite with the principle a noble and unwavering love of truth, and generous, honorable feelings, and am happy to say that, except yourself, I have no cause of doubt of having succeeded. I know not one of your companions who would not spurn from his heart the base means which you have resorted to; and, before this day is over, they shall have fresh motives to value fair dealing. You must be made an example of. I will no longer permit you to treat your schoolmates with injustice, or in such a manner as to injure your own soul.

*8

LESSON XXVII.

CONSONANT SOUNDS IN COMBINATION.

spr as in sprain, spray, spread, spring.
sps as in asps, clasps, hasps, rasps.
spt as in clasp'd, grasp'd, rasp'd, lisp'd.
st as in stain, stay, blest, rest.

History tends to strengthen the sentiments of virtue. In its faithful delineations, vice always appears odious, and virtue not only desirable and productive of happiness, but also favorable to true honor and solid glory.

The Saturday Afternoon Visit.

ANNA ATWELL came home from school, one pleasant Saturday noon, and said, “O mother, it is so pleasant, that I wish very much to go somewhere visiting this afternoon."

"And where do you wish to go?" said her mother. "O, I should like to go and see any of the little girls. Julia Allen is going to see Mrs. Hunt's daughters, and I should like to go there, if you are willing."

"Well, after dinner you may wash your face and hands, comb your hair, put on a clean frock and apron, and go."

Anna had quite a long walk to take, alone; but she did not feel lonesome, for her way lay through the fields, and she loved the fields and flowers, the trees,

and the blue sky; she loved to hear the songs of the birds, and to look at the grasshoppers and the butterflies, and all the little creatures that God has made to live in the woods and fields.

So on she went, sometimes going on one side of the path, and sometimes on the other, to look at something which she saw, and sometimes going hop-skip, in the pathway, till she arrived at Mrs. Hunt's.

Anna found her friend Julia at Mrs. Hunt's, and Ellen and Elizabeth Hunt were very glad to see her. Besides these, she found a little girl named Laura, who was assisting Mrs. Hunt. This girl was, perhaps, three or four years older than the other girls, but she liked very well to play with them. Neither of the visitors had ever seen her before; but children are not long in getting acquainted, and in a short time they felt as familiar as if they had known her a month.

Children do not like very well to play where there are grown people, and in a little while Laura asked Mrs. Hunt if she might take the baby and go up stairs. Mrs. Hunt said she might, and the little girls went up into Laura's room. Here they had a fine play; and, when they were tired, they sat down, and Laura opened her trunk and bandbox, and showed them her clothes. "O, what a pretty cape!" said Anna. "Did you

work it yourself?"

"It is only an every-day cape," said Laura. "My mother made it."

"Do look here, Anna," cried Julia, "and see what beautiful calico, and how handsomely this dress is made, too. Is this yours, Laura?"