some day feel how much, and live its full! I was trying to prove to you that your woman's duties were even more difficult to perform than a man's,—because, her (and our) natural inclination is to ascend, to aspire to something higher, purer; whereas the littleness of some of her duties, often apparently mere trifles, is continually dragging her down; Duty pulling against Inclination. Again, it is much easier to call out our energy and bravery to the performance of some grand action, than to summon it to the fulfilment of some small distasteful duty. Let us go on now, Margaret dear, we'll finish our talk on the way to the spring, our to-day's banquetting hall, how glorious compared with yesterday's, is it not, sister?" “Yes, indeed, brother. And a draught of that clear, pure water will be very refreshing," said she, rising. “Yes, I am very thirsty; I confess I should not wish to dispense with drinking and eating, as well as work, on these our holidays." They went slowly down through the wood to the spring; Margaret. proudly happy, exerting herself to take her tall brother's arm, glad. even with all her conscious strength, to feel a stay so strong, so near. And here, reader, we must leave them. This was the last day Margaret Leigh's heart needed to yearn for work, the last time she cried out for some aim, some doing, to fill and interest her vacant time. Oh! how often an ardent yearning in our hearts for a something wherewith to test and prove our powers- precedes the birth of sore trial, fierce mental conflict, or deep sorrow. Some day we may spend another hour with Harold and Margaret Leigh. HOPE ANSTED. Christ hath now many lovers of his kingdom, but few bearers of his cross. All desire to rejoice with him; few are willing to endure any thing for him or with him. But if there had been any better thing and more profitable to man's salvation than suffering, surely Christ would have shown it by word and example. Thoughts to help and cheer. We should seize every opportunity of lifting up our minds to God—secretly—in the midst of our common pursuits, occupations, and conversations. This would so calm our minds, and free us from distractions and perplexities, as to keep us in the best possible frame for whatever proper business and truly innocent pursuits we may be engaged in.-Jebb. VICENZIO VIVIANI. A CHILD, who might be about twelve years of age, and whose costume was that of the peasantry of the neighbourhood of Florence, entered, one day in the year 1638, the capital of the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. He carried a small bundle slung over his shoulder by his stick; his pocket was very scantily supplied, yet he had taken from home all the money which his father had to bestow, to enable him to subsist until he was in a position to provide for himself. "You are now a great boy, strong and intelligent," said his father to him; " you are old enough to work, and I have no longer the means of maintaining you; be prudent, be industrious, and if you keep the fear of God before your eyes, wherever your guardian angel shall conduct you, be assured you will always find some charitable person who will be glad to assist you." The father and the child wept and then parted. The little exile, having taken the direction of the city, endeavoured to economize as well as he was able, the trifling sum which he carried with him. In order not to wear out his good and strong shoes, he attached them to the end of his stick and walked barefoot; but when he reached the vicinity of Florence, he took a bath in the Arno, shook the dust from his coat, sat down to mend the rents in his linen trousers with a needle and thread which he had taken care to bring with him, and then dressed himself as neatly as he could, before he entered the city. We have not yet stated the motives which induced the father of Viviani to part with his child at so tender an age, nor what led him to hope that the boy would find suitable employment for his feeble arms, and be able, to maintain himself by his own industry. It was simply because, ignorant as as he was, he understood the high capacity of his son's mind. Viviani did not know a single trade, yet it might be said that he was capable of exercising any of them. Endowed with an extraordinary penetration, he divined what he had not been taught. Once set upon a track, whatever it might be, he required no farther aid to enable him to pursue it with a firm step. Thus he had scarcely been taught the alphabet, yet he read with perfect ease. He had been told that two and two make four, and from this point of departure he had advanced to the most complicated operations of arithmetic. Wanting the necessary knowledge for calculating, according to the rules of the science, he created a method for himself as simple as it was ingenious; and by the means of little pieces of wood differently cut he succeeded in discovering the laws of numbers, and in understanding their different combinations. The Curé of the village one day translated for him one of the Psalms of David. By the aid of these hundred lines, Viviani managed to understand and translate in his turn nearly all the Psalms. This intelligent aptitude for labour was not limited to purely literary occupations. More than once when visiting the workshops of the village, Viviani, who did not know, even by name, what are termed the laws of motion, equilibrium, and mechanics, pointed out by an artless but correct process of reasoning, how to overcome a difficulty with which an unskilful workman had contended in vain for several days. Such was the child whom poverty had driven from his native village, and who walked through the streets of Florence filled with wonder at the sight of so many beautiful things. Amongst the curiosities which attracted his attention, there was one which kept him for a long time fixed before a shop-window. The object which he contemplated with so much earnestness was a magic lantern. As he could not make out its use, his usual penetration was for once at fault. Any other but Viviani, would have passed on for fear of fatiguing his mind too much; but he was not one of those who pass easily from one occupation to another. Finding that he could not himself supply the information he wanted, he determined to enter the shop, and beg the tradesman to explain to him the mechanism of the lantern. A magic lantern was at that time very rare, and of great value. As soon as Viviani began to understand this new toy, he immediately perceived the advantages that might be derived from so attractive an object, by travelling about the country and exhibiting it to the children. He spread out on the counter all his money, and asked if that would be sufficient to pay for the wonderful lantern. "No!" replied the kind man, to whome Viviani had addressed himself; "and were you ten times as rich, you would be too poor to buy what you covet. I will not sell you the lantern; but I will let it to you. You seem to be intelligent, I believe you to be honest; promise me only that you will return here at the end of every week, and tell me honestly what you have gained, and according to your receipts, whether good or bad, I will regulate the hire." Viviani travelled about with his little exhibition, from hamlet to hamlet. It was greatly admired, but poorly paid for, so that Viviani had nothing very considerable to take to the shopkeeper, at the end of each week. His shoes were beginning to wear out, and in order to save them, he determined to make no more excursions beyond the city. He established himself, with his exhibition, beneath the great gate of the Strazzi Place, but his receipts were not much improved. One evening when it rained very hard, and the child stood shivering beside his lantern, he caught sight of a man in the distance, who was crossing the street, which the rain had rendered quite deserted. "Signor, signor!" he cried, runing after him, "if you do not come and see the sun, I shall have nothing to pay for my supper." 'The sun!" said the stranger: "we are badly matched, for I am not paid for my attention to it." 66 The person who thus spoke, was the man who had assigned to the sun its place and its course in infinite space, it was, in fact, the great Galileo. Touched with compassion at the sight of the little mendicant, he yielded to his entreaties, and condescended, notwithstanding the falling rain, to stop and witness the exhibition which Viviani displayed to him. He listened patiently to the whole of his explanation, and when the representation was over, he still remained beside Viviani, questioning him relative to the mechanism of his little theatre. Viviani replied with his accustomed accuracy. Then from the demonstration of the lantern, he insensibly proceeded to the explanation of several of the calculations belonging to the optician's art, a knowledge of which he had picked up during his conversations on the Saturday evenings with his patron, the worthy shop-keeper. Galileo felt deeply interested in the child; he took him to his house, adopted him as his own son, and turned to such good use his great aptitude for the study of the sciences, that he rendered him one of the most learned geometricians of the seventeenth century. His reputation quickly spread over all Europe; the Princes of the House of Medici loaded him with favours; Louis the Fourteenth, King of France, allowed him a considerable pension; the Academy of Science, at Paris, admitted him amongst the number of its foreign associates; and Ferdinand the Second, Grand Duke of Tuscany, on several occasions, confided to him important missions to the different sovereigns of Europe. Viviani died at the age of eighty-two. (Abridged from "Celebrated Children in all Ages and Nations.") God speaks to us through the rustling of the leaves no less distinctly than in the voice of the whirlwind and the storm.Amos Lawrence. Outward gains are ordinarily attended with inward losses. He is indeed rich in grace whose graces are not hindered by his riches.Ibid. HYMN. BY C. M. COUPER. Father Supreme! Great God of love! As now our mingling voices rise, How shall we tune our souls aright? To bring unto Thy presence, Lord, The sweetest song, the holiest hymn, Oh were Thy will the rule of ours, To guide our wandering hearts aright, We should not then, in sad despair, Thy throne would be in every heart, CONVERSATION. "For every idle" (or baneful, as Lant Carpenter translates) "word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment." These are words of fearful and vital importance, and truly should control the tongue, and regulate the heart and thought. The text should, and must be, the basis of conversation. One reason pro bably why conversation will, in a measure, be the rule of Christ's judgment, is, that a frivolous, baneful, or unholy speech ignores, as it were, the Divine Presence. God is here; wherever the speaker is, there is God. He is as truly present with us, as is our companion; and if, as it is allowed, the presence of a man of a holier character restrains in some measure the ribald and profane, |