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H- was a stubborn, willful, stupid lad-people said so—his parents told him so. He was taught to believe it, and was treated as such by his teachers. He expected and provoked a flogging the first day of each term; bis mates looked for it as a matter of course. He was hardhearted, insolent, and aggressive to his fellows, and thuroughly hated by them all. The girls of the school all feared him, and to only one did be yield the horage of a kind look or word. He pelted the rest uprelentingly with snow-balls, tripped them as they passed him, and made himself generally obnoxious. Occasional gleams of 'suplight were seen to issue from among the clouds of his character. They dazzled and astonished all. The winter of 184 came. The old school-house at the corners had been repaired-had received its twenty-fifth annual scouring and ecrubbing by the buxom waids of the district; circular pieces of tin had been nailed over the knot-boles, the windows had been repaired with putty and fragments of glass from the windows of the house of the ruling trustee, who charged the district with money paid for good glass, and replaced the fragments from his own window with the glass purchased for the district. The house bad been "banked” bigh, new legs had been inserted where missing, in the high hemlock slab seats, and loose ones wedged, a new broom had been purchased, and a new tin cap. Old Uncle Seth Slipshod had newly bottomed the chair, a huge piece of chalk was in possession of the trustee's eldest daughter, wło would have the distinguished honor of formally presenting it to the new, young, and handsome school-master (not the writer), who bad been hired at twelve dollars per month, and said trustee's daughter was duly instructed by the first trustee and his wife, to urge the teacher's acceptance of their hospitality the first week, and to “make his home there ever after.
Monday morning, the 15th of November, came. Who ever knew the winter term of a school in the country to commence without there having been a snow storm the night before? We never did. The boys were gathered in groups about the door, exhibiting their new juack knives,
sharpening fragrant ceilar pencils, boring holes in the end of huge slate crayone, indenting the newly fallen spow with their boot-heels, and watching for “the master.' “He is coming !" and he came; school was called. Our hero H followed the teacher closely and boldly into the house; he attracted the teacher's attention ; he always was able to do so in some manner. During the first hour the teacher saw, but did not seem to see the maneuvers of H- The name of each scholar had been taken, their studies and the text-books they had chosen, their proficiency investigated. H had chosen a seat which caused him to be last scholar questioned. In the meantime he had been studied by the teacher. His Dame was asked and given; given in a much more respectful manner than was expected; his text.books examined. The teacher found him a long ways behind other boys of bis age. Asked him if he had never read in
the " third " I do
or “fourth reader.”_"Never had." Did he like to study? “Not much.” Why? “ Couldn't understand it." 6. The teachers bad explained his lessons to him ?” “ Tried to, but never made out much." “ Other scholars understood the teacher ?" 'Yes, but the teacher had no patience with him.” “But it is the teacher's duty to be patient.” “Well, I am a fool anyway,” said —, and two large, round, glistening water. balls rolled down his brown cheeks. Oh, no, I can convince you, you are capable of accomplishing as much as any one in this school-room, and (said the teacher in a low tone), I want to talk to you at the desk during recess.' - was thoughtful the balance of the half day. A certain pair of blue eyes opposite his seat, looked sympathizingly and encourage ingly into his own. He felt their influence. The writer cannot say how much their influence affected his successful career as a student that winter, and his after success as a man of the world. Neither can be assert that he has ceased to feel that influence.
Recess came; H called on the teacher. The conference was a long and earnest one. We will allow the reader to listen to some of the teachlat er's words to the boy.
“H-, when I first saw you this morning, I saw you were a boy of no ordinary character. I did not then know the direction of your mind, be or the extent or character of its accomplishments.”
“There are one or two important matters that we must mutually decide upon before we commence the winter's work. “I want
you to regard me as your friend, as well as teacher, and in both these relations I desire your confidence. You say you desire to learn, and
will labor hard to do so. You must labor bard, and there is nothing you F
cannot accomplish if you will to do it, and I am sure you have the will. To do this and succeed in your studies, you must labor to secure the
friendship of your associates; no one can study successfully with a bad TE
temper, or with any other than kind feelings towards his mates. Make your conduct and deportment such as that you may respect yourself, and others will respect you ; self-respect is neccessary in any enterprise, and especially in self cultivetion. Remember that your mind is immortal, and that there is no limit to its purposes ; that you may be all that you admire in others. But remember that you cannot, and ought not, to labor to prevent the advancement of your friends, with a view to build yourself up. He is most noble who most values the friendship, love and respect of others. An enemy is no advantage to any one, and may be an injury. His enmity will soon cease if he disı overs it produces no effect. Hence, you should seek to do him good; your reward will come; remember it is necessary. Do not regard the student's life as one of monotonous, treadmill labor-an eking out of all your vital energies in search of some wand of fabled and versatile power. Take recreation, but do not allow it to be debasing in character. If you need exercisc, take it, but let it be such as shall peril do one's friendship or person ; let your whole demeanor exbibit your desire to rise, and you will find aids where you least expect them, where they were onlooked for-friends among those who hated you, and happiness to which you are a stranger."
Much more was said 'by the teacher, but we have given an index of its character. There was a new light burning in the eye of H--; its dark, earnest depths revealed a purpose—a worthy resolve. There was no more exemplary and studious scholar in that school during that term.
We cannot give space to tracing the path of A-- during the years that have intervened since then.
Two weeks ago the student and teacher met again. Years had elapsed since they had seen each other. The teacher holds a high place in the gift of the people, and given him by the people, not by party. The pupil is a responsible officer in a wealthy corporation, and his name is well known as a capitalist.
"Sir, I owe to your kindness, discretion, and capacity as a teacher, all I am or can ever hope to be. I shall never forget the circumstances which proved the turning point in my life-which gave me my present position instead of a desperado's name and fate. I have learnnd the responsibilty of the teacher, and how great bis power to harm, or do good. It is sadly under estimated. I shall never forget the lesson of love you taught me; I trust I have profited by it. Children are not taught it enough, either by precèpt or example, by parent or teacher.”
This was the testimony of the PUPIL. The TEACHER has his reward. Emery's Journal of Agriculture.
“NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP."
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
pray the Lord my soul to take."
Who are you, man or woman, for whom this prayer has not old, sweet associations; who, hearing its words, hear not, too, the " ringing up from the golden plains of your childhood, and feel not the soft gales from the morning land of your life sweeping over your soul.
You may be a man now, in the pride and strength of your years; you may have carved out for yourself an honorable name and destiny in this world—mayhap you are the owner of broad lands and prond homes, and your heart has grown hard in its battle with the world.
But stop a moment, and listen to this little verse, so sinple that the merest babe who learns to lisp the words can comprehend them, so grand in its sublime significance and faith that the wisest sage shall only have learned fully the true leeson of life when his soul can utter thein as it uttered them in his infancy.
Let's see! how many years ago was it! twenty, thirty, forty; no matter, at the old sound of “Now I lay me,” they have all rolled back their massive doors, and you go down through them to the old red one story house, where your life first took on its morning. You see the little window on the right side, close under the rafters; ah! you slept sourder slumber, and dreamed sweeter dreams in that old garret, than you ever have in your lofty chambers, with the gilded ceilings, and snowy draperies; and what matter if your bed was a straw one, and your coverlet made of red and yellow “patches” of calico, you never snuggled down so contentedly under your spring mattresses and Marseilles counterpanes.
“Now I lay me;" how softly sleep would come and weigh down your eye-lids, as you repeated the words after her; ah! you can hear her very tones now, stealing across your heart, though it is so many, many years since death silenced them; and you feel, too, the soft touch of her band on your pillow, and the tender lingering of her kiss on your lips--you break down here, proud man as you are, the memory of your mother is more than you can bear. If she had only lived, you would not be what you are now; bat, blessed be God, she leit you something holy and blessed beyond all naming; something that can not grow old nor dim, not even in the
speakable brightness" beyond the shining gates-the memory of a loving, praying, Christian mother.
Reader, it may be many years since you prayed this prayer; or, alas! may be that in the din and struggle of life you have forgotten to pray at all, and that night after night you have lain down on your pillow, never thinking of the shining ranks of angels that God's mercy stationed around yoa, or thanking him for the day and for the night.
Bat come back, we beseech you, come back to the old prayer of your childhood. You can not have outgrown that, no matter if your hair is froste-l with the snows of life's December, and if your years are threescors-and-ten. Kneel down by your bedside, and uttering these words, see if something of the old peace and faith of your childhood does cot come back to you; if something of its dew and its blessing fall not upon
And remember that, sooner or later, you must “lie down to sleep,” when this prayer will be all your soul can take, all that will avail of your rank, or wealth, or fame, whatsoever you most prize in this world, which is but the shadow of eternity. Ah! we shall soon pass the
"Green thresholds of our common graves,"
but this little prayer, the first, it may be, that we took upon our childish lips, shall fo'low us as we sail out under the solenn arches of the “River of Death"-follow us, a sweet, faint, tender air, from the shores, and when we shall cast anchor
6. The Lord our souls shall take."
MY BOY AT HOME.
On the western slope of an eastern bill
A snow-white cottage stands;
When Autumn fruit expands,
A pair of small brown hands.
The slender hands of a little boy,
With clear and deep-brown eyes,
No falsehood's shadow lies;