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not the fear of God before their eyes, I love, and would do them good-but I saw that this little boy lingered, and looked this way and that, as though he wanted an excuse for staying longer. Had he wanted to obey his mother, he would have taken his sister and gone promptly into the house. Instead of that he pulled her roughly by the hand; and when she cried, he called to his mother, and said, "Sis won't come." "Bring her, then," was the next command; and the little boy brought her to the door-sill, and set her down. The mother had now gone out, and there was no one to say for the third time, "Take your little sister into the house." So she soon crept out again, playing upon the cold door-stone, and among the damp grass, until the mother came home. And when the little boy was reproved for disobedience, he answered in this way: I did mind you-I brought her in as I was told. You did not say, 'Shut the door,' and she crept out again."

Was that obedience, little reader? No, it was wicked, determined disobedience at heart, and a poor half-way obedience of action. And what do you suppose was the result? It was this. The dear little sister was attacked with croup, and in a few days was laid away in the silent tomb. This was a dreadful result indeed, and one which, through life, must be remembered-sadly, painfully remembered by that little boy. But it is not always thus. Sometimes children go on in a course of disobedience for years. In childhood and youth, they are disobedient to parents; in manhood and old age, they continue their path of rebellion against God; and yet they cannot see that anything dreadful has been the result of their disobedience. But, alas for such! A book of remembrance is kept, and He who has said,

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Children, obey your parents," never forgets the sins of those who die Christless. What a mercy to be washed from sin through faith in the blood of Jesus! Of such God says their sins and their iniquities He will remember no more.

"BOAST NOT THYSELF OF TO-
MORROW."

I SAW a little girl one day,

I saw her rosy face:

As healthy, as lively and as gay,
As any in the place.

"I'd go somewhere," she proudly cried,
"To lose my rosy face."

"O Emma!" the listening mother replied,
"Such soon might be thy case."

That self-same night she was taken ill,
And never left her bed;

A fever raged, and, sad to tell,

In four short days she's dead.

In two days more she's in her grave,
Great was the parent's grief;

Her time was come, and none could save
The fallen, faded leaf.

E. G.

[The writer of the above tells us that this circumstance occurred some years since, and that her motive in putting it before the readers of the GLEANER is her great desire to caution young girls against the sad spirit of proud discontent they will sometimes show, with even the bloom that proves their health, if they think less redness would add to their beauty. "Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain," but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.-ED.]

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THE BEAUTY AND VARIETY OF
BUTTERFLIES.

THE first thing that merits our attention is the dress with which they are adorned. Some of them, indeed, have nothing particularly striking in this respect; their clothing is plain and simple. Others

have their wings a little ornamented, and some are entirely covered with ornaments. Let us confine our remarks to this last species. How beautiful are the shades which adorn it! how pretty the spots which set off the other parts of its dress! They are pencilled with consummate delicacy. But the beauties of this insect are vastly more striking when seen through a microscope.

Who would ever think that the wings of butterflies were garnished with feathers? And yet, in fact, nothing is more certain. What is generally termed dust on their wings is in reality found to be feathers.

Their structure and arrangement are as full of symmetry as their colours are of beauty. The parts which make the centre of these small feathers, and are next the wings, are the strongest ; and those which form the exterior circumference are much more delicate, and wonderfully fine. These feathers have all quills at the bottom, but the upper part of them is more transparent than the quills. If the wing be roughly touched, the most delicate part of the feathers is destroyed by it; but if all that appears like dust be rubbed off, nothing would remain but a fine transparent skin, in which we might distinguish the little cells or hollows in which the quills of each feather are inserted. This skin, from the manner of its formation, may be as easily distinguished from the rest of the wing, as we distinguish a fine lace from the linen to which it is sewed.

It is more porous, more delicate, and appears as if embroidered with a needle. It is also edged with a fringe, the most regular and most exquisitely fine. What are our most elegant dresses in comparison of those with which Nature has clothed the butterflies? Our finest laces are a coarse cloth compared with the delicate texture of the wings of a butterfly, and our finest thread would be as a rope-so great

is the difference between the works of art and nature, when seen through a microscope. The latter are finished with all the perfection imaginable; the former, even the most beautiful of their kind, have no proper finish.

What is most astonishing in this beautiful insect is, that it comes from a worm of a very despicable appearance. See how this beautiful butterfly spreads its sparkling wings to the sun, and sports in his rays! How it rejoices in its existence, and flutters from flower to flower! Its splendid wings present us with the magnificence of the rainbow. How is it altered since the time when, in the form of a reptile, it crawled in the dust, always in danger of being crushed under foot! Whence is it that it can now fly? Who bestowed upon it those painted wings? It was God, who is its first Creator and ours. In this extraordinary insect He has given us an emblem of the transformation which awaits the righteous.

[Dear children, may the above make you shrink from the cruel sport of hunting and crushing the butterfly, an insect upon which God has lavished such skill and care.-ED.]

THE BREVITY OF HUMAN LIFE.

ON the first Sabbath in January, 1872, the children of our Sabbath-school assembled to repeat their Scripture lessons, with the view of receiving the different reward books as prizes. Among them was one who was then about six years and six months old. This little girl was exceedingly ruddy and small for her age. She, however, repeated with remarkable courage and emphasis the first thirteen verses of the eleventh chapter of Hebrews | with so much exactness as to command the love and admiration of nearly all who were present; in fact,

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