herself.
rudely,’

And all the things in the kitchen were grumbling
in the same manner. The Candlestick wished that
the nasty grease from the candle would not run down
his back, and spoil his brightness. The Candle
thought himself too genteel to be put into a common
brass candlestick: he should prefer china, or silver.
The Saucepan-lids wished that the cook would not
be always polishing them.: They shone quite enough
now; and it would spoil their eyesight if they were
made any brighter. The Clock said that he had to
tick so loud that it made his head ache; the Spocns
did not like to be suffocated by being shut up ina
cupboard; the Cupboard wished it had not to carry
so many things inside it; the Chairs wished that
some people were not so fat and heavy; and, in
fact, everything in the kitchen seemed to be quite
miserable.

At last the old man was tired of hearing all this
grumbling, and was just taking off his spectacles,
when he tooked round and saw on the hob, opposite
te Sukey the kettle, a little brown pot. He had not
noticed it before, and he waited for a few moments
to hear what it would say. It did not speak, how-
ever, and at last he said to it,—

‘How is it that you look so happy and cheerful,
while every one else seems so wretched and dis-
contented ?’ .

‘Oh!’ said the Little Pot, ‘I have no time to
grumble. The cook put me here to warm, and so I
am trying my best to get hot as fast asIcan. I
mustn't talk any more, because talking let’s the steam
escape.

‘Why,’ said the old man, ‘I declare that is just
the rule for me! Iam always wishing that I was
vich ‘and had nothing to do but read; but I think
that, if I was to try rather harder to get my living,
and to do the work God has set me, I should be much
happier than even if I had plenty of money, and no
work to do for it. That is a very good plan of yours,
Little Brown Pot. Ill try it at once.’

The old man has kept his word, and ever since he
has had no time to grumble.

Young folk! cannot you and I follow his pees

R. Y. N.

It served her right for staring at me so

 

 

A CURIOUS STONE.

‘i an Oxford museum may be seen a strange stone.
It is composed of carbonate of lime, and was
taken from a pipe which carries off drain-water in a
colliery. The stone consists of alternate layers of
black and white, so that it has a striped ‘appearance.
This was caused in the following way. When the
miners were at work, the water which ran through
the pipe contained a good deal of coal dust, and so
left a black deposit in the pipe. But when no work
was going on—as, for instance, in the night—the water
was clean, and so a white layer was formed. In time
these deposits quite filled the pipe, and it was there-
fore taken up. Then it was found that the black
and white layers formed quite a calendar. Small
streaks alternately black and white showed a week,
and then came a white streak of twice the usual size.

 

 

This was Sunday, during which there was of course
no work for twenty-four hours. Lut in the middle’
of one week there came a white streak of twice the
usual size. On inquiry it was found that on that
dav a large fair had been held in the neighbourhood,
and no work had been done at the colliery. Every
change in the ordinary course of work had left its
mark on this strange stone, to which has been given
the title of ‘The Sunday Stone.’ A. R, B.

“WHAT O’CLOCK
Is IT??

HEN I was a young lad my
father one day called me to
him, that he might teach me to
know what o’clock it was.

He told me the use of the
minute~finger and the hour-
hand, and described to me the
figures on the dial-plate, until I
was perfect in my part.

No sooner was I quite master
of this knowledge than I set off
scampering to join my com-
panions in a game of marbles;

but my father called me back again.

‘Stop, Willie” said he; ‘I have something more
to tell you, :

Back again I went, wondering what else I had got
to learn; for I thought I knew all about the clock as
well as my father did.

‘Willie,’ said he, ‘I have taught you to know the
time of day. I must now teach you the time of your
life.’

I waited rather impatiently to hear how my father
would explain this further lesson, for I wished to go
to my marbles.

‘The Bible,’ said he, ‘ describes the years of a man
to be threescore-and-ten, or fourscore years. Now,
life is very uncertain, and you may not live a single
day longer; but if we divide the fourscore years of
an old man’s life into twelve parts, like the dial of a
clock, it will give almost seven years for every figure.
When a boy is seven years old, then it is one ¢’clock
of his life: and this is the case with you. When
you reach fourteen years old, it will be two
o'clock with you; and when at twenty-one, it will
be three o'clock; at twenty-eight, it will be four
oelock ; at thirty-five, it will be five o’clock; at
forty-two, it will be six o’clock; at forty-nine, it will
he seven o'clock, should it please God to spare your
life, In this manner you may always know the time
of your tife, and looking at the clock may remind you
of it. My great-grandfather, according to this calcu-
lation, died at twelve o’clock, my grandfather at
eleven, and my father at ten. At what hour you
or I shall die, Willie, is only known to Him who
knoweth all things.’

Seldom since then have I heard the inquiry,
‘What o'clock is it?’ or looked at the face of a
clock, without being reminded of the words of my
father.