| - MEDITATION, BY THE LATE BISHOP HALL, ON A ROBIN SINGING. 83 |as they prophecy I shall. Escotts always have, as far as I can see, and they say I am an Escott out and out.” “You shan’t!” said Winny, with a sort of pro- tecting force in her tone. “J think if you stick by me, I need not. wise I know I shall. Other- I say, Winny! I know I’m always abusing my father because he thinks me a} brute, but I know I’m one all the same. ‘That’s the sting of it. I don’t think I’ve had a fair chance ; I don’t think you would think so either, if I told you every thing. But since ’ve known you, I’ve thought I might be something better than I am, if you took me in hand. And I believe if you told me to jump over the moon, I should try to do it. So perhaps I might be good too for your sake.” The laughing butterfly was gone, and a sad-faced little brown maiden stood in her place, trying hard not to cry. “Oh, Escott, I always shall care! But ought you to talk like that? Surely it would not be right to be good only for my sake ? ” “J don’t know about that,” said Escott; “Tm not religious, and I never pretended to be, but I’d sooner be good than bad, and I might be, I think, if you helped me. There is your aunt coming in at the garden-gate. Is it a bargain, Winny ?” “Yes,” she said, and then silently went up to Aunt Immy by his side, as he said he was come to wish her good-bye. “ Good-bye, Escott Armyn, and I hope you will mind what you are about, and not play all the pranks some young men do, and break your father’s heart. There, good-bye.” Winny felt the clasp of his hand for long after he was gone, and out of sight. She was consider- ably astonished at what had taken place, and wanted time to look at it ; but solitude did not come until she was in bed, when, for almost the first time in her life, she lay awake to think. She—silly little Winny—conscious of her own weakness unsteadiness and love of pleasure,—sud- denly called on to help and guide Escott Armyn ! She felt humbled by her own unworthiness to a degree that was positive pain. The childlike, un- conscious nature was so unused to self-contemplation that she had never been wont to look at herself as a whole, as she found herself obliged to do now. She had known of single faults, and had been sorry for them ; but she had never considered what she might be in relation to others. And now it seemed to her that Escott looked upon her almost like a pope, and the very incongruity of the idea made her burst out laughing, even though she was in a serious mood. “He ought to have chosen Nest for his pope, and not me. But then Nest would never have thought him good enough to make friends with—poor | , | Escott ! ee _ ee Perhaps Nest’s goodness would have frightened him. Anyhow, I am glad he didn’t choose Nest. Shall I tell any body ? No,I think I won’t ; this is a secret of my very own between him and me. But, oh dear! how shall I be good enough to help him, when I am so vain and silly myself! Well, I will try to be good too—and— and—lI will always say his name in my prayers. I don’t see any other way that I can help him ; poor Escott !” And then Winny cried a little, and finally—un- romantic though it was, went to sleep. Neyerthe- less she did not forget her resolution, though she said nothing about it. To all appearance she was still the gay, lighthearted child; and if she was a little more thoughtful at times, no one knew who it was that was in her thoughts, nor whose name it was that was always spoken in Winny’s morning and evening prayers beside her little white bed. (To be continued.) perry MEDITATION, BY THE LATE BISHOP HALL, ON A ROBIN REDBREAST SINGING AT HIS CHAMBER WINDOW. S| RETTY bird! how cheerfully dost thou sit %j| and sing, and yet thou knowest not where thou art, or where thou shalt make thy next meal, and at night must shroud thyself in a bush for lodging: what a shame is it for me, that I see before me such liberal pro- visions of my God, and though I sit warm under my roof, yet am ready to drop under a distrustful and un- thankful dulness. Had I so little certainty of my harbour and food as thou hast, how heartless should IJ be, how careful, what poor melody should I make to thee or to myself! “ Surely thou camest not hither without a providence. God sent thee, not so much to delight as to shame me with a conviction of my sullen unbelief, who under more apparent means am less cheerful and confident, Reason and faith have not done so much in me, as the mere instinct of nature hath in thee. Want of foresight makes thee more merry if not more happy here, than the fore- sight of better things maketh me. “O God! Thy providence is not impaired by those powers which Thou hast given me above these little creatures: let not my greater helps hinder me from a holy security | and comfortable reliance in Thee !” ——_¢——__ American ScHoon Statistics. —An American paper | states that the population of Brooklyn, New York, be- tween the ages of 5 years and 21, is 136,769; 1572 coloured children, 86,842 whites between 5 and 14, and | 48,355 between 14. and 21. The whole number of pupils on the rolls last year was 98,355, but the average attend- ance was only 35,968, or a little more than a third of the number registered. of the teachers in the day schools amounted to $480,547. The total expense of maintaining the schools (exclusive of new buildings) was $658,228, or above $18 for each pupil in average daily attendance.—Zimes. a2 The public schools were taught by | 823 teachers, of whom 789 are females; and the stipends |