October 26.

A child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.— PROV. xxix. 15.

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ALL children love their mothers,-each thinking his own the best in the world, but do they remember that people are judging their mothers by what they see in them? That boy has a good mother," said one gentleman to another, on a street-car, the other day. "Who is she?" asked his friend. "I do not know who she is, nor what is his name, but any one can see what kind of a mother he has," was the reply. "Did you notice how he raised his hat, and turned the address of the letter down, as he picked it up and returned it to the lady who dropped it? Did you hear him say 'Please pardon me,' politely to the laundrywoman, when he unintentionally stepped against the big basket she was carrying? As he came on the car, he did not jump on while it was in motion, to get a seat before those older people could get on. Did you see him pull down the curtain and shut out the view he would have liked, because that old gentleman seemed to find the strong sunlight disagreeable? These things are trifles, but they are silent witnesses to a mother's training."

MOTHER.

There are soft words murmured by dear, dear lips,

Far richer than any other:

But the sweetest word that the ear hath heard

Is the blessed name of "Mother."

O magical word! may it never die
From the lips that love to speak it,
Nor melt away from the trusting hearts
That even would break to keep it.

Was there ever a name that lived like this?
Will there ever be such another?

The angels have reared in heaven a shrine
To the holy name of " Mother."

October 27.

Thou openeth Thy hand and satisfiest the desire of every living thing.-PSA. cxlv. 16.

WHEN the season grows rough, all the birds draw nearer man. Robin Redbreast, attracted by the noise of the woodcutter's axe in the forest, hovers about him and sings his softest lays. Even the more timid birds venture near our doors, and with plaintive note seem to ask a bit of food. So the bird-loving Michelet tells us, and adds: "Open your windows, for pity's sake, and give them a few crumbs."

ROBIN REDBREAST.

Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our thrushes now are silent,
Our swallows flown away,—
But Robin's here with coat of brown,
And ruddy breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!

Robin sings so sweetly

In the falling of the year.

Bright yellow, red and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;

The trees are Indian princes,

But soon they'll turn to ghosts;

The scanty pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough;

It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,
"Twill soon be winter now.

Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!

And what will this poor Robin do?
For pinching days are near.

The fireside for the cricket,

The wheat-stack for the mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle,
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,

The branches plumed with snow,—
Alas! in winter dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!

And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

October 28.

When I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.-MICAH vii. 8.

As there comes a warm sunbeam into every cottage window, so comes a love-beam of God's care and pity for every separate need.

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

MY WINDOW-IVY.

Over my window the ivy climbs,
Its roots are in homely jars ;
But all the day it looks at the sun,
And at night looks out at the stars.

The dust of the room may dim its green,
But I call to the breezy air:

"Come in, come in, good friend of mine,
And make my window fair!"

So the ivy thrives from morn to morn,
Its leaves all turned to the light;

And it gladdens my soul with its tender green,
And teaches me day and night.

What though the dust of earth would dim?

There's a glorious outer air

That will sweep through my soul if I let it in,
And make it fresh and fair.

Dear God, let me grow from day to day,
Clinging and sunny and bright!

Though planted in shade Thy window is near,
And my leaves may turn to the light.

MARY MAPES Dodge.

October 29.

Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips.-PROV. xxvii. 2.

It is a pleasure to have a kind thing done for you, but sometimes the pleasure is greatly lessened because what it cost to do it, is told. This story of a little boy shows the spirit in which we should do kind things:-" A man met a little fellow on the road, carrying a basket of blackberries, and said to him, 'Samuel, where did you get such nice berries?' 'Over there, sir, in the briers.' 'Won't your mother be glad to see you come home with a basket of such nice, ripe fruit ? 'Yes, sir,' said Sammy, she always seems glad when I hold up the berries; and I don't tell her anything about the briers in my feet.'"

BOAST NOT.

Let all the good thou doest to man,
A gift be,-not a debt;

And he will more remember thee,
The more thou dost forget.

Do it as one who knows it not;

But rather like a vine

That, year by year, brings forth its grapes,
And cares not for the wine.

A horse, when he has run his race;
A dog, when tracked the game;

A bee, when it has honey made,
Do not their deeds proclaim.

Be silent, then, and, like the vine,

Bring forth what is in thee;

It is thy duty to be good,

And man's, to honor thee.

RICHARD H. STODDARD.

October 30.

But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.—PROV. iv. 18.

THE sun has set; his last rays are no longer seen; he has faithfully performed his allotted task; he has shone upon the world, giving gladness to many hearts, bringing forth the fruits and flowers. Have I been as faithful as the sun? Has my face shone with the reflection of the bright, pure thoughts within ? Have I made my beams of kindness shine upon all, causing the flowers of joy and gladness to spring up and blossom and bring forth fruit? Have no clouds of evil passion arisen to obscure the sun of my righteousness? So let me go on, shining brighter and brighter, unto the perfect day.

LILIES AND ROSES.

When a child breathes a pure and earnest prayer
Or cheers with gentle words another's gloom,

In heavenly gardens springs a lily fair,

Before the angels evermore to bloom.

But when he works with strong and earnest will
Some kindly act,-beneath God's watchful eyes
A fragrant rose, more rare and precious still,
Makes glad the shining fields of Paradise.

So live, dear child, that each new day may see
Lilies and roses owe their life to thee !