THE LION LESSON.

I PLACE before my readers the picture of a lion, asking them to search their Bibles, and arrange all the texts that refer to the lion, giving me one verse of poetry, original or select, upon each; and for the best effort of this kind I will send a volume as a prize. We hope to give a picture lesson of this kind from month to month.

Should any of our young friends find a difficulty to give a poetic answer, we shall be pleased to receive short, pithy prose remarks upon each text that refers to the lion.

THE HONOURABLE HELEN E-,

I was a brilliant scene! E-- House was thrown open for a children's ball, to celebrate the birthday of two of the younger members of the family (a twin brother and sister), who had reached their sixth year.

It was a noble mansion, surrounded by beautiful, park-like grounds, and graced by an avenue of venerable lime trees, which on this evening formed a long perspective of coloured light. As the guests approached, they were greeted by strains of inspiriting music from a military band; and, entering the drawing-room, which glittered with uniforms and brilliant dresses, they were received by Lord and Lady E-, who, with their lovely children around them, formed a most attractive group.

The little hero and heroine of the night were dressed, almost alike, in crimson velvet and white lace; and as they moved about, with their golden curls almost touching, and their little round, snowy arms linked together, every eye followed them with pleasure, and many were the cordial good wishes that were showered upon them.

The assembly was a very large one; for although professedly a children's ball, so many grown-up friends were invited to accompany the children, and so many others invited to meet them, that the juvenile party was, after all, rather in the minority. But they did not enjoy themselves the less for this. It was a wonderful amusement to mingle in the same dances, and join in all the dignity of the promenade, with tall officers, in their gorgeous uniforms, and fashionable ladies, in their cloud-like robes.

Mammas sat by, looking pleased and entertained, and chatting quietly together, while the eyes of each

half unconsciously followed some cherished form as it glided through the mazy dance.

"What a lovely creature your daughter Helen is grown," said Mrs. Melville to Lady E--; "I have not seen her for a year, and really I should scarcely have known her, she grows so womanly and graceful. May I ask how soon she is to come out?"

"Helen is only fifteen," said Lady E--, smiling; "we do not think of bringing her out for more than two years, and she would need the time to complete her education."

At this moment Helen, with her partner, a young dragoon officer, approached them. She threw a sunny glance of recognition at her mother's friend as she flew past, and was again lost in the crowd. She was, indeed, a lovely girl,-her whole form radiant with youth and animation, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, and her sweet mouth beaming with good temper and amiability.

No wonder that a murmur of admiration should follow her wherever the passed! No wonder that many should say as they gazed on her, "What a happy creature! What prospects! What a destiny! With her position, her fortune, her attractions, she may command any future. Certainly, a brilliant career is before her."

One week after, it was announced in the papers that the Honourable Helen E- had been thrown from her horse, while out riding, and that her life was despaired of.

Oh, by how frail a thread do we hold the things of this present life! A momentary accident-a breath of infected air-a mistaken draught-an overheated room-a wintry wind-any one of these may, in an instant, check the course of youth and health, and, it may be, launch the soul into eternity. Our boat

is moored by a slender rope. Shall we, then, spend our time in gathering shells and pebbles on the shore, and think nothing of the great deep upon which, sooner or later, we must launch? Oh, is not this foly, madness, self-destruction!

You have within you a priceless treasure, in comparison of which countless worlds would avail you nothing-even your immortal soul. Is it safe? What would become of it were you to die this night? Remember, now is the only time that is yours.

It is evening, three months after the night of the children's ball, when we again enter E-- House. Let us step softly along this carpeted passage, in a quiet part of the house, removed from the noise of carriages and the bustle of arrivals.

A door, covered with dark green baize, yields noiselessly to our touch, and within is a heavy velvet curtain. Lifting one of its massive folds, and moving gently in, we find ourselves in a sick chamber; and, as our eyes get accustomed to the shaded light, we see the pale face of the poor invalid, who lies, propped with pillows, on her couch. One thin, transparent-looking hand is thrown on the coverlid, the other pressed to her aching brow; and the expression of helpless suffering and utter dejection is so extreme, that we find it almost impossible to believe that this is indeed the once brilliant and beautiful Helen! In so short a time, how changed! Those bright, blooming cheeks are now wan, and pale, and sunk; the sparkling eyes look dim and tearful; and the sunny smile, that lent such a charm to her whole appearance, bas altogether vanished, and in its place is a miserable expression of mingled fretfulness and suffering.

Poor Helen! she was indeed very wretched. Her

life was spared, but the most skilful medical aid had been unable to save her injured limb. She had been obliged to submit to a most painful operation, and she now knew that her fate was sealed-she was a cripple for life.

It was a terrific blow to one in the first bloom of youth and hope. To Helen it was overwhelming; and for many weeks she had never passed a day without weeping bitterly over the fearful sorrow that had come upon her. Her life was spared, but this great mercy did not awaken in her mind even a transient feeling of gratitude. Often did she wish, amid her bitter sobs, that she had been killed that day, rather than thus left to linger on through a desolate, hopeless, and miserable life, without even a possibility of ever being able to take her place in society, or mingle in the gay world. Poor child! this was her only idea of happiness-and now the sparkling cup was dashed for ever from her lips.

Her parents feared the effect of this extreme dejection; and it was proposed, as soon as she could bear removal, to take her abroad for change of air and scene. In the meantime, everything that affectionate solicitude could suggest was provided to soothe her sufferings and cheer her spirits. But what can minister to a mind diseased ?" Deeply sharing in her mortification and disappointment-in despair that their lovely Helen should be thus cut off, in the early spring-time of her youth, from all that, in their eyes, made life valuable-and dead to all interests beyond those of the present world, Lord and Lady E- were utterly unable to speak the truth to their suffering child. They watched over her with unremitting attention; but to poor Helen's aching heart and morbid sensibility, even their affec tion was distressing, for she felt that instead of being