each breath. The wolf now put one of its feet over the boy, so that it had his neck between his two fore-paws. "It's life or death, now," thought the boy. Quick as lightning he seized the beast by the two fore-legs, and drew it so close to him that it had not room to lay hold of him with its teeth. Its snout lay pressed against his left shoulder, its long dry tongue hung out alongside the mouth of the boy. The wolf's throat made a noise as if it were choking, and it scratched through the boy's boots and stockings with its hind claws, till he was bleeding. "Father! father!" cried he, as he now got to the house door. "Father! father!

father! open!" repeated he in his agony, for no one heard him. The door was bolted inside, and all were asleep. He was exhausted; he could not push, for he had both hands pulling hard at the wolf's legs to keep him on his back. He could not venture to kick with his foot, for he was afraid he might lose his balance with the beast's struggles, and fall. At last he turned his back to the door, and banged the wolf against it so that it gave a yell that woke the house dogs, and set them barking their loudest. "Father!" cried the boy, above the baying of the dogs; "open, for mercy's sake, I have a wolf-alive!"

The huntsman heard now, and the anxious mother was in an instant down in the yard and opened the door. There stood the father, with his rifle levelled. "Don't fire, father," cried the boy; "I have him on my back; only open the barn door." This done, he threw in the wolf with all his force on its back, among the dogs,

and the father ended its life with a ball, but not till it had killed three of the dogs.

DICTATION.-The little fellow was very clever to pretend to be dead, and very brave to seize the wolf and carry him on his shoulders, scratching and tearing. The wolf's eyes no doubt glistened as brightly as the snow. The boy must have been nearly exhausted. It was well the father did not fire his levelled rifle.

season?

QUESTIONS.-In what country did this happen? In what What did the boy do when he saw the wolf? What did he do when it stepped on his neck? What should it teach us to do and to be in any danger?

OBJECT LESSON.

PAPER.-What is Paper made of?

The best is made of linen rags; but they make it also of cotton rags, of some kinds of grass, of straw, and much else. How are the rags made into paper?

All the buttons are first cut off, and all the stitches taken out, and then they are cut into pieces about two inches square. What next?

The pieces are put into great round wire cages, inside which a number of spokes turn very quickly, and beat out all the dust from them. This is called dusting.

What comes next?

The rags are next boiled with lime or with soda, which takes all grease out of them. What is the fourth thing they do with them?

They wash them in a machine which beats them about till they are half pulp.

What comes after washing?

Bleaching them in vats till they are as white as snow. It is done by chloride of lime in the water.

What comes after bleaching?

The rags are beaten by a machine till they are nothing but pulp.

What comes after this beating?

The rags are passed over frames of very fine wire which shake the pulp into a smooth sheet, letting the water pass through.

What after this?

The paper passes on in one long sheet, of hundreds of yards, between hot rollers, which dry it. How long does it take to make the pulp into paper?

The wet pulp is made into smooth, dry, shining sheets, cut round the edges, in less than five minutes.

1

The morn has but just looked out and smiled,
When he starts from his humble, grassy nest,
And is up and away with the dew on his breast,
And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere,
To warble it out in his Maker's ear.

Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays

Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise.

What is that, mother?

The dove, my son.

And that low, sweet voice, like a widow's moan,
Is flowing out from her gentle breast,
Constant and pure by that lonely nest,

As the wave is poured from some crystal urn,
For her distant dear one's quick return.
Ever, my son, be thou like the dove,

In friendship as faithful, as constant in love.

What is that, mother?

The eagle, boy,

Proudly careering his course of joy,

Firm in his own mountain vigour relying,
Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying;

His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun,
He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on.
Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine,
Onward and upward, true to the line.

What is that, mother?

The swan, my love.

He is floating down from his native grove:
No loved one now, no nestling nigh;

He is floating down by himself to die :
Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings,
Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings.
Live so, my love, that when death shall come,
Swan-like and sweet, it may waft thee home.

DICTATION. The lark rising from his humble grassy nest to the bright sphere above, singing as he rises, tells us to praise God when we wake. The faithful friendship and constant love of the dove is also a lesson to us; and so is the eagle proudly careering, relying on itself, breasting the storm, and defying danger. So is the swan, singing as it dies.

QUESTIONS.-What bird rises singing from its nest at dawn? What kind of a nest has the lark? What should we learn from the lark? In what are we to be like the dove? What does faithful mean? What does constant mean? What does the flight of the eagle teach us? What does the eagle rely on? What is the meaning of vigour ? What should we learn from the supposed singing of the swan before its death?

RIDDLE.-What is the difference between six dozen dozen and half a dozen dozen.

ONE day an eagle had soared to the top of a very lofty mountain, and there, perched on high upon a rock, it broke out into some natural remarks about its powers of flight. Just as it had said in its grandest style, "Here I am higher than ever created being was before!" it heard a sharp voice saying, "What a boaster you are, to be sure! Am I not higher than you?" and