E. I cannot look at blood! Besides, I cannot bear to see you hurt, mother.

Mrs. F. If I can bear to feel it, surely you may see it. But you must stay, and we will talk about it afterwards.

Eliza then, pale and trembling, stood by her mother, and saw the whole operation. She could not help, however, turning her head away when the incision was made, and the first flow of blood made her start and shudder.

"Well, Eliza, what do you think of this mighty matter now?" said Mrs. Freeman, when all was over. "Would not it have been very foolish for you to have run away?

E. But why should I stay to see it? I could do you no good.

Mrs. F. Perhaps not; but it will do you good to be accustomed to such sights.

E. Why, mother?

Mrs. F. Because instances are every day happening in which it is our duty to assist fellowcreatures in circumstances of pain and distress; and if we were to indulge a reluctance to come near to them on those occasions, we should never acquire either the knowledge or the presence of mind necessary for the purpose.

E. But if I had been told how to help people in such cases, could not I do it without being used to see them?

Mrs. F. No. We have all naturally a horror at every thing which is the cause of pain and dan

ger to ourselves or others; and nothing but habit can give most of us the presence of mind necessary to enable us in such occurrences to employ our knowledge to the best advantage.

E. What is presence of mind, mother?

Mrs. F. It is that steady possession of our selves, in cases of alarm, that prevents us from being flurried or frightened. Do you not remember hearing of your cousin Mary's cap taking fire at the candle?

E. O, yes, very well.

Mrs. F. The maid, as soon as she saw it, set up a great scream, and ran out of the room; and Mary might have been burned to death.

E. How foolish that was!

Mrs. F. Yes; the girl had not the least presence of mind, and the consequence was, that she was entirely useless. But as soon as your aunt came up, she took the right method for preventing the mischief. The cap was too much on fire to be pulled off; so she took a quilt from the bed and flung it round Mary's head, and thus stifled the flame.

E. Mary was a good deal scorched, though.

Mrs. F. Yes; but it was very well that it was no worse. If the maid, however, had acted with any sense at first, no harm at all would have been done, except burning the cap. I remember a much more fatal example of the want of presence of mind. The mistress of a family was awakened by flames bursting through the wainscot into her chamber.

She ran to the staircase; and, in her confusion, instead of going up stairs to call her children, who slept together in the nursery overhead, and who might have all escaped by the top of the house, she ran down, and, with much danger, made way through the fire into the street. When she had got thither, the thought of her poor children rushed into her mind; but it was too late. The stairs had caught fire, so that nobody could get near them, and they were burned in their beds.

E. What a sad thing!

Mrs. F. Sad, indeed! Now I will tell you of a different conduct. A lady was awakened by the crackling of fire, and saw it shining under her chamber door. Her husband would immediately have opened the door; but she prevented him, since the smoke and flame would then have burst in upon them. The children, with a maid, slept in a room opening out of theirs. She went and awakened them; and, tying together the sheets and blankets, she let down the maid from the window first, and then let down the children one by one to her. Last of all she descended herself. A few minutes after, the floor fell in, and all the house was in flames.

E. What a happy escape!

Mrs. F. Yes; and with what presence of mind it was managed! For mothers to love their children, and be willing to run any hazards for them, is common; but in weak minds that very love is apt to prevent exertions in the time of danger. I knew a lady who had a fine little boy sitting in

her lap. He put a plum into his mouth, which slipped into his throat, and choked him. The poor fellow turned black and struggled violently; and the mother was so frightened that, instead of putting her finger into his throat and pulling out the plum, which might easily have been done, she laid him on the floor, and ran to call assistance. But the maids. who came up were as much flurried as she; and the child died before any thing effectual was done to relieve him.

E. How unhappy she must have been about it!

Mrs. F. Yes; it threw her into an illness which came very near costing her her life. Another lady, seeing her little boy climb up a high ladder, set up a violent scream that frightened the child, so that he fell down and was much hurt; whereas, if she had possessed command enough over herself to speak to him gently, he might have got down safely.

HORACE JONES lived in a beautiful town, on the bank of a very large river. He was only six years

old, and his parents had forbidden him ever to go near the river alone; for the banks were, in some places, very steep, and the water rushed along with great rapidity, so that there was great danger in going very near.

One bright summer morning Horace set out for school, with his satchel of books swung over his shoulder. His road to school led him along the bank of the river, and his mother had always charged him not to go down to the water. This morning, as she put on his collar, and brushed his hair, she said to him, "I hope you will not go down. to the edge of the water. Only think how dreadful it would be to be drowned in that deep river!"

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"O, no, mother!" said Horace, and away he ran, his bright curls dancing in the wind as he bounded along.

He was a merry little fellow, and, as he went along, he stopped, every moment or two, to pick the wild flowers which grew on the side of the road, or ran after a butterfly.

It was a very pleasant morning; the birds were singing in the trees, and the "busy bees" were flying from flower to flower, dipping in their heads for the sweet honey, and buzzing away, to each other, about the bright sunshine.

The tall trees, on each side of the road, were whispering, as they bent their high heads to the warm, soft wind; and the little boy's heart was full of happiness.