cern. The tiger showed his teeth-the lion slightly shook his mane. The tiger drew back on his hind feet to make a spring. The lion rose up with dignity', and shot fire from his eyes. The tiger sprung at the cage with great fury', forcing one of his paws in between two of the bars'; at the same instant, the lion made a grab at the tiger's foot'; caught it firmly between his teeth; pulled the whole leg into the cage and held it there, until the keeper', seeing the opportunity, sprang from the back of the elephant', flung his noose over the tiger', and secured him in a moment.

"After the tiger was fairly caught in the noose, the lion let go his hold', and the keeper dragged the former to his cage', where he secured both him and his mate.

"Thus by a singular train of circumstances, in which the instinct and the trunk of the elephant, no less than the teeth and temper of the lion, bore a conspicuous part', the poor keeper was rescued from the jaws of the tiger and tigress."

LESSON LV.

THE HEEDLESS BOY.

DICK WILDER is a boy who makes his friends a great deal of unnecessary trouble by his intolerable heedlessness. Though he is quite a tall boy, he needs as much looking after as a child only four or five years old. His mother is at a great deal of pains, every morning, to see that his dress is in order', and his appearance neat and fresh', when he sets out for school; but it does no more good for her to beg of him to try to keep himself so', than it would be to talk to a post. He will come home, perhaps, covered with ink', or with a great rent in his jacket, or with his hat

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looking as if it had been crushed under foot. Let what will be done for him, he always looks like a sloven. About every thing else', Dick is just so careless. Scarcely a day passes, when something is not either lost or spoiled. His parents have been heard to say that it costs more for books and clothing for Dick', than for all the rest of their children together. And then he makes as much trouble in the house, by leaving his things about', or putting things in disorder', as half a dozen boys need to make. He will sometimes come in from school, and throw his hat down in one place', and his great coat and his satchel in another`, and then march into the parlor with his muddy or dusty shoes', as unconcernedly as if he were entering a stable. He is no sooner stationed at the fire place', than he must commence kicking the andirons', so as to bring the fire tumbling down',-or he must shuffle his feet upon the polished hearth',-or he will contrive some way of making a litter around upon the carpet', perhaps by whittling a stick', or tearing a piece of waste paper into little bits. His mother and sisters have to be continually checking or reproving him for some such piece of heedlessness. "Why, Richard', why don't you hang your hat up in its place'?" or, "Richard', do see how muddy your shoes are'; pray go and wipe them';" or, "Richard', be careful and not litter the carpet."

When the roads are dusty, this boy, instead of trying to walk in the very best place he can select', goes shuffling along, just where it happens'; and if they are wet, you will perhaps, see him dashing through the very thickest of the mud', when, by paying a little attention', and being careful to step a little one side now and then', he might get along very comfortably. When he reaches school, he gives his hat a fling upon a hook, without noticing whether he is making it secure or

not', so that, very likely, his back is scarcely turned before down it tumbles. But Dick takes no notice`, and before school is through', the poor hat has been kicked from pillar to post', until it is not fit to be seen.

If Dick had to provide his own clothing', nobody would care if his heedlessness in regard to it gave him a little trouble once in a while'; but the worst of it is', he makes his poor mother continually uneasy at seeing him look so untidy', besides keeping her almost constantly busy with removing stains', or mending rents', or brushing the mud or dust' from something that belongs to him.

"Why, I didn't mean to'," Dick says sometimes', when he is reproved for a piece of heedlessness. Didn't mean tō, Dick'! Indeed', you would deserve to be punished severely', if you should ever go to work deliberately, to lose or destroy your books', or to injure your clothing', or to make trouble in the family', by your disorderly', careless habits. Nobody supposes that you mean to; but that is no excuse for any body. Nobody is ever excusable for heedlessness. It is every person's duty to be careful. The question is not whether you meant to, but whether you meant not' to that is', did you take pains to avoid the mischief'?

LESSON LVI.

THE CHIEF SEAT OF SIN.

THERE is one thing about sin that children ought to understand very distinctly'; and that is', that its chief seat is the heart. Being there, it is very difficult to drive it out. Two boys were quarreling one

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day, on the road to school. They became very angry, and began to strike one another. This was sin`; but the sin was not so much in the striking, as in the feelings of malice`, hatred', and revenge', in their hearts. Presently they saw the teacher coming along`; they were afraid of him; so they stopped striking one another', and walking along, calling one another hard names', and using all sorts of violent and threatening language: this, too, was sin'; but the sin did not consist so much in the angry and wicked words', as in the feelings of malice', hatred', and revenge', in their hearts. Soon the teacher came up so near them', that they could not talk without being overheard. They stopped talking, therefore, and walked along', eyeing one another with ferocious and angry looks. This, too, was sin'; but the sin was not so much in the lôoks, as in the malice', hatred', and revenge', which still raged in their hearts. When the teacher actually came up to them', they durst no longer show their passions in their looks, but walked along as if nothing were the matter'; but the malice', and hatred,' and revenge' still burned in their hearts as much as before. The mere coming up of the teacher had first stopped the sinful actions, then the sinful words', and at last the sinful looks, but the sin still remained in the heart as bad as ever'; and there it was very hard to reach it.

In fact, all sin is really in the heart. If a boy disobeys his father or mother', the great wickedness is in his disobedient, ungrateful heart', not in the action'; and if he is afraid to do the action, while yet he has disobedient and ungrateful feelings at heart', it is almost as bad. Sometimes great sin is committed, while the child who commits it seems to be doing nothing at all. Two deceitful boys', for example, were one day going to fire a little cannon behind the

house', in a place where they thought their father would not see them. So they got the powder and the fire, and loaded the cannon, feeling all the time guilty and wretched. Just then, they heard a noise', and one of them said their father was coming'; so they pushed the cannon under a log', threw away the fire`, and stood still', trying to look unconcerned`; their father, as he passed along, saw them', and supposed that they were about some innocent play', and went on.

Now, perhaps, you may think that the great sin which these boys committed, was getting the cannon and the powder', when they knew that their father disapproved of it. But no', this was not their greatest' sin. It was a very great sin', but not the greatest. The greatest was committed while they were standing there, doing nothing. It was then' that their hearts were in the most sinful state';-unfaithfulness', disobedience', deceit, hypocrisy', were the sins of heart which they were committing', while they stood still', doing nothing', saying nothing', and looking careless' and unconcerned. Thus you see that all sins really belong to the heart', and some of the very worst' belong to the heart alone'; and every child who reads or hears this will see, if he looks within', or thinks of his past life', that his heart often has been', and still is', sadly filled with sin.

LESSON LVII.

SIN MAKES ONE UNHAPPY.

THERE is one thing which it is very important to know about sin-and that is', it always makes people wretched. Two children quarreling about their playthings are always wretched. You can see it in their