| - 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 |