WHEN DOCTOR Franklin was a boy seven years old, his friends, when he had a HOLIDAY, gave him some halfpence. He went off directly to a shop where they sold toys for children, and being pleased with the sound of a WHISTLE, offered all the money he had to buy one.

He then went home, and went all over the house whistling away, much pleased with his whistle, but DISTURBING all the family. When he told his brothers and sisters about his bargain, they told him that he had given four times as much for the whistle as it was worth.

This made him think what good things he might have bought with the rest of the money; and they laughed at him so for his folly, that he cried with vexation, and the whistle gave him no more pleasure.

This event was afterwards very useful to him; for WHENEVER he went again to buy something that he did not want, he said to himself, "Don't give too much for the whistle," and so he saved his money.

As he grew older, and saw more of the world, he met many people, who, in their ACTIONS in life, gave too much for the whistle.

When he saw any one wasting his time in waiting

THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF.

66

17

This man

upon great men, in order that he might get something from them, he said to himself, gives too much for his whistle."

When he saw another man, fond of being talked about, who went speaking at public meetings, BUSYING himself with other people's affairs, and NEGLECTING his own, he said, "He pays too much for his whistle."

If he knew a miser, who gave up every kind of COMFORTABLE living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the goodwill of his fellow CITIZENS, and the joys of FRIENDSHIP, for the sake of getting money, Poor man," he said, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle!"

66

When he saw one fond of fine clothes, fine CARRIAGES, and other things more EXPENSIVE than he could afford, for which he got into debt, and was put into prison because he could not pay, "Alas!" he said, "he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle."

In short, he thought that a good deal of the trouble that is in the world is brought about by false NOTIONS as to what things are really and truly worth, and by men giving too much for their whistles.

EXERCISE.

Why was Franklin sorry that he had bought the whistle? What classes of people pay too much for what they obtain?

[The author of these verses, Mrs. Hemans, died in 1835.]

"OH, call my brother back to me !

I cannot play alone:

The summer comes with flower and bee;
Where is my brother gone?

B

"The butterfly is glancing bright

Across the sunbeam's track;
I care not now to chase its flight;
Oh, call my brother back!

"The flowers run wild-the flowers we sowed
Around our garden tree;

Our vine is DROOPING with its load;
Oh, call him back to me !"

He could not hear thy voice, fair child;
He may not come to thee;

The face, that once like spring-time smil'd,
On earth no more thou'lt see.

A rose's brief, bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given;
Go-thou must play alone, my boy;
Thy brother is in heaven!

"And has he left his birds and flowers?

And must I call in vain?

And through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?

"And by the brook, and in the GLADE,
Are all our wanderings o'er?

Oh, while my brother with me play'd,
Would I had loved him more!"

EXERCISE.

1. What made this little boy feel more sorry when his brother was dead? 2. What lesson should that teach us?

It was a nice little dog, with curly hair, long ears, and a bushy tail.

Little "Spot," for that was its name, was very fond of trotting after Charlie, licking him, and jumping up on his lap, when Charlie would let him.

Spot could do lots of tricks which Charlie had taught him; and if the dog was fond of its master, it was because Charlie was fond of him, and took great care of him.

There was the little rug for him to sleep upon, or he might creep into the basket which stood in the corner. Spot must have his dinner as well as Charlie. He must be washed, and PATTED, and taken such care of, that no wonder the little pet was now and then rather saucy.

How he would bark when any one came to the door! When he seemed to be asleep, he could hear at once if any one was coming to the door, and would jump up and run to them as if he was going to bite them. And yet he was not a SAVAGE dog. He made this noise to let Charlie see that he would do what he could to protect him, if he was needed.

The cat would often give him an ugly scratch, be cause she was jealous that he should be taken so much notice of; but Charlie made them both feed from one dish, and this caused them to be more friendly than they would OTHERWISE have been.

It was good fun to see Spot running after the stick which had been thrown, and bringing it back to its owner, or to see him carry a bundle in his mouth.

He could also swim well, and could have brought to shore anything FLOATING on the water.

One day, when Charlie was at school, the little dog was running about, picking up first one thing and then another, and at last he found a large crust in one corner of the stable. I may say that this crust had poison on it, and had been placed there to kill the rats, and not for Spot to eat.

Of course, after eating this, he soon became very unwell. The poor little dog crept to his usual bed, and lay there in great pain, and it was not long before he died from the effects of this poison.

Charlie came in from school, and after a while began to call "Spot!" but Spot did not answer. There he lay, and took no notice of his little master. Charlie called "Spot!" again, but still he did not come, and seemed not to hear him. "How strange!" thought the boy, "he is always so ready! I must go and AROUSE him."

"

He went to the basket in which Spot lay, called him again, then whistled to see if he would hear that, but the pet took no notice.

He touched him, he pushed him, but he fell back into the same position, and it was now that Charlie saw that his dear little pet was dead.

"Poor Spot! Poor Spot!" he cried, as he looked at him and stroked him. Then he patted him and lifted him up, as if that would bring him to life again. But it was all of no use.

After looking at him for a short time as he lay there cold and dead, Charlie burst into tears. "My little Spot is dead. The dog that was so faithful to me, poor pet! he is dead! So saying, he turned away and wiped the TRICKLING tears from his eyes.

It was some time before Charlie forgot the loss of his pet. He did not have the little dog running and jumping about him as he had done, and it seemed strange to him,