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poor creature which had almost served its time, he decided that the animal was no longer worth his feed, and resolved to put an end to it. For that purpose he tied the poor brute to a tree, and taking a massive lever used in moving heavy goods, he struck the animal several violent blows on the head, until the unfortunate creature sank to the ground insensible. The master, thinking the animal dead, left it on the spot, intending to remove the carcase on the following day. The horse, however, recovered its senses a short time after, and found its way home, and entered the courtyard at day-break. Its arrival was welcomed by the neighing of its companions in the stable, which noise awakened the master, who was now furious at having failed in his cruel purpose. He tied up the animal afresh, and commenced again to shower blows on its head. This act of brutality was committed in sight of two other horses in the stable, and at length one of them, a young animal, became so frantic with rage that it broke its halter, and rushing on the man seized him in his jaws, and after shaking him violently, threw him down and trampled on him with such fury that had not the man's cries brought some persons to his aid the master would certainly have been killed. As it is, he has suffered great injury from the attack."

[May this case read a profitable lesson to all our youthful readers. You may think it very unlikely you will ever commit such horrid barbarity; this man perhaps once thought the same. If you wish not to be a cruel man, do not be a cruel boy. Never take delight in torturing flies, beetles, butterflies, mice, and small birds, as such conduct will strengthen cruel principles, and blunt the kindly feelings of your heart.-ED.]

A BARGAIN WITH THE PUMP. A QUEER place to make a bargain, truly; but there's many a harder customer for a thirsty man to deal with than our honest friend the old pump.

John Ashworth, in his tenth annual report of the "Chapel for the Destitute," tells the following good story of one of the flannel weavers there, who made a very good bargain with the pump.

This man had saved a guinea for the express purpose of having a whole week's fuddle. He began on Monday, spending three shillings per day for seven days; on the morning of the eighth day he was burning with thirst, but his money was gone. He went to the back door of the drunkery where he had spent every farthing of his guinea, to beg a pint on trust. Judy, the landlady, was mopping the passage; he stood looking at Judy, with his cracked lips, parched tongue, and bloodshot eyes, expecting her to ask him to take just a drop: but she did not, and he requested her to trust him for only one pint. With an indignant look of scorn and contempt, she replied,

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"Trust thee! thou dirty, idle vagabond! Set a step in this house, and I will dash this mop in thy face."

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The poor wretch hung down his head in shame. He was leaning against a pump; and, after a little study, began to talk to the pump. "Well, Pump,' he said, I have not spent a guinea with thee, Pump; wilt thou trust me a drop ?" He lifted up the handle, put his burning mouth to the spout, and drank to his fill; this done, he again said to the pump,

"Thank thee, Pump: and now, hear me, Pump. I will not enter a public-house again for the next seven years; and, Pump, thou art a witness.”

The bargain was kept, and this man afterwards became a respectable manufacturer, and often said it was a grand thing for him that Judy threatened to dash the mop in his face.

Many a poor fellow would do well to stop trading at the bar, and try a bargain with the pump; and many others who have traded at the bar till they can trade there no longer, might go and do likewise.

FINDING A BABY.

My name is Anthony Hunt. I am a drover, I live miles and miles away upon the Western prairie. There wasn't a house within sight when we moved there, my wife and I; and now we haven't many neighbours, though those we have are good

ones.

One day, about ten years ago, I went away from home to sell some fifty head of cattle—fine creatures as ever I saw. I was to buy some groceries and dry goods before I came back, and, above all a doll for our youngest Dolly. She had never had a doll of her own, only the rag babies her mother had made her.

Dolly could talk of nothing else, and went down to the very gate to call after me to buy a "big one." Nobody but a parent could understand how full my mind was of that toy; and how, when the cattle were sold, the first thing I hurried off to buy was Dolly's doll. I found a large one, with eyes that would open and shut when you pulled a wire, and had it wrapped in paper and tucked it under my arm, while I had the parcels of calico and tea and sugar put up. Then, late as it was, I started for home. It might have been more

prudent to stay until morning, but I felt anxious to get back, and eager to hear Dolly's prattle about her toy.

I was mounted on a steady-going old horse of mine, and pretty well loaded. Night set in before I was a mile away from town, and settle down dark as pitch, while I was in the middle of the wildest bit of road I knew of.

I rode as fast as I could, but all of a sudden I heard a little cry like a child's voice! I stopped short and listened: I heard it again. I called, and it answered me. I couldn't see a thing; all was dark as pitch. I got down and felt about the grass-called again, and again was answered. Then I began to wonder. I'm not timid, but I was known to be a drover and to have money about me. It might be a trap to catch me unawares and rob and murder me.

I'm not superstitious-not very. But how could a real child be out on the prairie in such a night, and at such an hour? It might be more than human. The bit of a coward that hides itself in most men showed itself in me then, and I was half inclined to run away, but once more I heard that cry, and said I,

"If any man's child is hereabout, Anthony Hunt is not the man to let it die."

I searched again. At last I bethought me of a hollow under the hill, and, groping that way, sure enough I found a little dripping thing that moaned and sobbed as I took it in my arms. I called my horse; and the beast came to me, and I mounted, and tucked the little soaked thing under my coat as well as I could, promising to take it home to mammy. It seemed tired to death, and pretty soon cried itself to sleep against my bosom.

It had slept there over an hour when I saw my

own windows. There were lights in them, and I suppose my wife had lighted them for my sake, but when I got into the courtyard I saw something was the matter, and stood still with a dead fear at heart five minutes before I could lift the latch. At last I did it, and saw my room full of neighbours, and my wife amidst them weeping. When she saw me she hid her face.

"Oh, don't tell him," she said, "it will kill him.” “What is it, neighbours ?" I cried.

And one said, "Nothing now, I hope—what's that in your arms?"

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A poor lost child," said I. "I found it on the road. Take it, will you? I've turned faint," and I lifted up the sleeping thing and saw the face of my own child, my little Dolly! It was my darling, and none other, that I had picked up on the drenched road.

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My little child had wandered out to meet daddy" and the doll, while her mother was at work, and whom they were lamenting as one dead. I thanked Heaven on my knees before them all. Often do I think of it in the nights, and wonder how I could bear to live now if I had not stopped when I heard the cry for help upon the road, the little baby's cry, hardly louder than a squirrel's.

CONSCIENCE.

I HAVE a little voice within,

That always tells me when I sin :
I'm sure I know not whence it came,
Pray, brother, tell me what's its name?
There is no one, however near,
Whispers so sternly in my ear;
And often in my lively play,
If anything I do or say

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