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older than himself, whose names were J. S. and S. S. (they are now in Australia) to a place called the moor, where they intended to stop all the afternoon, instead of going to school again. They wandered on the banks of the river which ran along the moor, and on which were several flour and paper mills. As they were going along they saw a very pretty flower down the bank, but it was close to the edge of the deep water, and how were they to get it? Joseph, more daring, though the youngest, said, "I will get it. I will lay down over the bank, and you must hold me by my legs." So he laid down and reached, but he could not get it. He tried again, leaning over further. "Hold me fast!" he cried, as he put out his hand to reach the flower. "Have you got it!" No, but I shall in a moment." Another try; now he has it. He flung the flower on to the bank, which no sooner do J. S. and S. S. see, than, instead of pulling Joseph up they let go of him, and seize the flower, and run off! But where is poor Joseph? He has fallen into the river! and what will become of him? There he is in the river, with a deep waterfall not far from him, and a mill a little further off! I can tell you what his thoughts were then. I remember that I sunk, for I could not swim; and then I thought of my mother. But I rose and tried to reach the bank with all my strength, but I was carried by the stream further away. I looked, and shouted, but no one heard or saw me. Down I went again, and again I thought of my dear mother. Oh! how I should like once more to see her and to kiss her. Then I thought how near I was getting to the fall; a little more and all would be over with me. My friends would be search

ing all night and not find me. Oh! what a way my dear mother would be in! Again I rose, but no one was near to save me! I now gave up all hope, and was just going down never more to rise, when I felt a hand catch hold of me as I was sinking. I knew not then who it was; but he pulled me out and laid me on the bank, and I was saved. I will write again and tell you who saved me. But mind you go with good companions, and never with rude boys.

J. B. L.

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THE FATHER'S BLESSING.

IN the early ages of the world a father's blessing was regarded as one of the richest treasures that a young man could possess; and it is yet, however lightly some careless young people may think of it.

Some of the most interesting passages in the first book in the Bible have reference to this ancient custom. The firstborn son in the family was regarded as being entitled to the first blessing. And hence it was that when Rebekah, the wife of Isaac, had twins, Esau, as the first-born, claimed the chief blessing. But Esau grew up to be a hunter, a man of the field; and Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tentsthat is, he stayed at home and minded the flocks, while Esau roamed abroad after wild animals. Isaac loved Esau, because he did eat of his venison; but Rebekah loved Jacob. Coming home one day very hungry from hunting, Esau sold his birthright blessing to Jacob for a mess of pottage. Thus Esau despised his birthright. :

And he lost it. For when Isaac was old and his eyes were dim that he could not see, the mother aided her younger son to deceive his aged father and obtain the blessing of the firstborn; which, when Esau knew, he hated Jacob, and threatened, on the death of his father, to take the life of his brother. This being told to Rebekah she said unto her favourite son, Arise and flee thou to Laban, my brother, to Haran. And then making excuse to Isaac that Jacob had better go and seek a wife of her kinsfolk instead of taking one of the idolatrous daughters of the land of Canaan, Isaac called Jacob unto him, repeated the blessing he had already given, and then sent him away.

But what we sow we reap. It is so now; and it was so then. Jacob had obtained the blessing by deception, and he met with deception nearly all his life. When a young man his uncle Laban deceived him, and when an old man his own

sons deceived him grievously. He died in peace at last; but; like many others in our day, he found those words true, "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." He deceived others, and others deceived him.

Perhaps you are thinking-But Esau sold his birthright to Jacob. He did: and he was a foolish young man for doing so. That, however, did not justify Jacob in deceiving his aged father. We are not to do wrong because others do wrong.

You may read all about Isaac and Rebekah, and their twin sons, Esau and Jacob, in the book of Genesis. Perhaps you have read it. If you have not, you should; and if you have, I would advise you to read it again. You will then see what I wish you may never forget-that it is a sad thing for any young person to despise a parent's blessing, and that it is very wrong to use deception, even if you wish to obtain such an inestimable favour as that.

VERSES BY A BLIND BOY.

THESE verses were written by a blind boy of Boston, United States, who had been taught to read in a book with raised letters, which he made out by touching them with his fingers. He had also been taught to write, and could play music.

THE bird, that never tried his wing,
Can blithely hop and sweetly sing,
Though prison'd in a narrow cage,

Till his bright feathers droop with age;

So I, while never bless'd with sight,
Shut out from heaven's surrounding light,
Life's hours, and days, and years enjoy,
Though blind, a merry-hearted boy.

That captive bird may never float Through heaven, or pour his thrilling note 'Mid shady groves, by pleasant streams That sparkle in the soft moon-beams; But he may gaily flutter round Within his prison's scanty bound, And give his soul to song, for he Knows not the joys of liberty. Oh! may I not as happy dwell Within my unillumined cell? May I not leap, and sing, and play, And turn my constant night to-day?

I never saw the sky, the sea, The earth was never green to me: Then why, oh! why should I repine For blessings that were never mine? Think not that blindness makes me sad, My thoughts, like yours, are often glad. Parents I have, who love me well, Their different voices I can tell. Though far and absent, I can hear, In dreams, their music meet my ear.

Is there a star so dear above
As the low voice of one you love?
I never saw my father's face,
Yet on his forehead when I place
My hand, and feel the wrinkles there,
Left less by time than anxious care,
I fear the world has sights of woe,
To knit the brows of manhood so.
I sit upon my father's knee:
He'd love me less if I could see.

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