alone, for a guilty conscience is a terrible companion; so at length he got up and called to his mother, and, kneeling down at her feet, he told her the truth. "Mother I have been stealing." She inquired very gravely all the particulars, and then she said, "My child you have done very wrong indeed, and I cannot pass this over; for though you have told me the truth, and I see you are very sorry, yet I am afraid you will forget this sad fault, unless it is punished." so he fetched his box of savings, and gave them to his mother, and then, after a few words of prayer, he went to bed and slept. Next morning Mrs Ford desired him to tell her how much sugar he had taken, and Edward honestly told her the full amount; his money just about paid for it, but as paying for what people have stolen, does not undo the act of stealing, she thought it right to keep him without sugar. "I am sorry, my dear boy," she said, "but as both your father and I tremble at the thought of your growing Edward was so ashamed of his fault, and so truly penitent that he did not say one word. He felt he deserved punish-up to be a thief, and want you ment. He knew that his always to remember this fault mother, in punishing him, of yours, we think you ought to was kind, while the father that go without it for a long time." sent his boy to steal, was cruel. 'Oh, mamma, I know I have done very wrong; take away my sugar for a month; I think I can never like it again." Mrs Ford considered a few minutes, and then asked if Edward had any money in his saving-box. He had been saving his halfpence to buy a birthday present for his sister, who was at school, and it pained him very much indeed to give up the pleasure of presenting her with his tribute of love; I believe he would rather have had any other punishment, but he knew that. being guilty, he must submit, and 66 Edward grew up to manhood open and fair in every action; and as he looked back upon his childhood, he always said it was a lesson he never forgot. and that he should thank his mother to his dying day, for treating the matter 80 seriously. The Children's Friend. Two Lessons from the Gardener. HESE trees will we walked through an orchard of fine young trees. "How can you tell that?" I asked; "this is not the time for fruit; it is only March, and these trees look strong and handsome." "Ah, yes," said the gardener, "but the buds are dead, and there can be no fruit without buds." The sin itself is bad enough, but the present sin is not all. You are killing all the buds of goodness in your hearts, and by and by, instead of growing up into a noble manhood and bearing fruit that will bless the world, you'll be poor stunted crooked creatures, and society will cast you out of its garden because you only injure and disgrace it. And then he showed me how the buds were all black in the centre because the frost had killed them. It was a pity, I thought, but then I knew the trees were not to blame about it, and another year they would undoubtedly be full of fruit. But as I went home I saw a poor drunkard staggering along the streets with his red bloated face and bleared eyes, and I wondered if the buds of temperance and virtue in his heart didn't get killed some-garden of life above. how when he was a boy. I dare say he used to be a bright, noble little fellow, and people used to say of him, "He's a promising boy; he'll make his parents proud of him some day," just as we say of a tree that it promises a full crop of fruit. But the buds got frozen. Perhaps at first it was the evil example of others; that is, like a cold, icy wind upon the buds of virtue; and then the boy began to do wrong things himself, so that the sap that fed the buds came to be impure and and poisonous, and by and by the poor things withered up and died. And that is not all. Instead of the buds will grow out thorns; great ugly, dangerous thorns. So take good care of the buds, for our great Gardener, who planted us here in this garden of the world, meant to have every one of us bear good fruit, so that by and by he can transplant us into His When I hear boys swearing and using coarse vulgar language, it makes me feel sad. Another thing the gardener showed me was the most beautiful plant you can imagine. It was perfect in form, every leaf was green and glossy, and the rich crimson blossoms were just beginning to burst. "I have taken more pains with that plant," said the gardener, "than with anything else in my collection. It is to be sent to the president, and I meant to have it perfect." "It is really perfect," I said: "but, after all, the president will only look at it once, and forget all about it afterward, and he will never know how much pains you have taken with it." And then I thought of a poor cripple who spends all his days in a little dingy attic, earning just enough to keep him alive by making small baskets. This old man is a Christian, and he used to feel sometimes as if it was very hard that he could not do anything for Jesus. "But after a while," says the old man, "I thought that my Master must know what kind of work He needed most from me, and if He wanted me to serve Him by making baskets, and being thankful, why I'd try and do that just as well as I could. It's all for Jesus, and it's a comfort to think that He knows all about it, and counts it for something." What do you think of that boys and girls? Wasn't that a Master worth working for? Doesn't it pay to try and do our very best with all our little homely duties, when we know that this is just the very work Jesus wants at our hands, and that He will count it all as done for Him? In His eyes one duty is just as great as another; it makes no difference what, if it is only duty; something he wants us to do. So whatever He gives you to do, whether it is learning lessons now, or preaching His Gospel by and by, He counts one just as important as the other, and gives you credit for all the care you bestow upon it.-S. S. Advocate. Sabbath-Scholars' Hymn. O Holy Lord, content to dwell Each bidding of Thy mother mild; Lead every child that bears Thy name Gather Thy lambs within Thine arm, So shall they, waiting here below, THOMAS PATON, BOOKSELLER, STATIONER, and printer. LONDON BIBLE WAREHOUSE, 7 HANOVER STREET, BIBLES, PRAYER BOOKS, &c. HOMAS PATON has on hand a large Stock of CHURCH SERVICES, in the Newest Styles of Morocco and Velvet Binding. 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