nourishment which was life to the invalid, and were generally drunk when their services were most required. As an instance of the brutal manner in which they treated their unfortunate patients, we need only remember how Mrs. Gamp made herself comfortable with the pillow taken from her patient's head; or again, how she, unwilling to lose her night's rest, and desirous of awaking when her charge grew restless, lay across his feet, so that his slightest movement would rouse her! When we read of such things we can only wonder that any of their victims recovered; those who did must have had nine lives, one would think. But now-a-days all is changed. There are hospitals where the poor can be nursed by tender willing hands, and attended by skilful doctors; and clever experienced women to nurse rich and poor at their homes.

Florence Nightingale and her band of devoted nurses have shown us, and still do show, what a nurse should be, and how to be one. Nursing' is not by any means instinctive in womankind; it is true that it is the outcome of the compassionate feelings which most women have towards feeble suffering things, but the difficulty is how to show this pity in the most helpful way, so few people can really do this as it should be done. How often do we meet with a good-hearted well-intentioned woman, whose longing to do something for the sufferer results in a complete failure: perhaps she speaks in an irritating whisper, or walks on tiptoe in creaky boots, or, as she creeps noiselessly by the fender, catches the fireirons in her skirts, and brings them down with a clatter, all the more startling from the previous quiet. In short, there are no end to the awkward things which are done every day with the best intentions.

6

Nursing' is in a great measure a gift; training does much, but nature more. Nurses should be the highest type of women, no profession requires more good qualities. Witness the great tact which is needed to deal with the sick, the immense amount of patience, the entire absence of self, the great presence of mind, and, most of all, the sterling good

ness; for the sick often bring their spiritual troubles to her who cares so tenderly for their bodily ailments: if she is kind and sympathising for pain of body, will she not be the same for pain of soul? They will talk to the nurse, who has by her services won their confidence, as they could to no one else.

It is also an essential of a good nurse that she should know enough of cookery to be able, if necessary, to concoct dainty little messes to tempt the feeble appetite of her patient.

If she can sing, all the better. For sometimes a sweet low song will soothe the sufferer better than anything else. Each different kind of nurse must possess some one quality in a very high degree. What an amount of nerve must that brave band of noble women have had who went with Florence Nightingale to tend the wounded and dying in the Crimea! What courage and strength of will must have been theirs, to enable them to nurse so tenderly wounded soldiers, whether friend or foe, in a strange land, and surrounded by all the horrors of war! How much patience is required by those who nurse patients through a long period of convalescence !

Every woman ought to know enough of nursing to enable her to be useful in a sick-room in a case of emergency.

How much nurses are wanted in large towns. Take, for instance, the East-end of London. What dreadful misery is endured by the neglected sick among the poor. How much human suffering might be avoided, and how much moral good might be done, by the tender care of some good and refined woman. How much those poor outcasts might be elevated even by the thought that such an one cared for them, much more by her influence.

Does not the thought of such misery make your heart burn? Do you not feel inclined to go to the rescue, and stretch out a helping hand to some poor, lonely, suffering brother or sister,-(yes, brother or sister,)-to whisper words of comfort, to inspire the stricken heart with new courage, to re-animate it with new hope, and to send it on its way rejoicing?

In all our work let us remember that we are under the Great Physician, and must carry out His instructions, and not try our own experiments.

AUTUMN IN A FOREST.

Giddily waving and twisting, and falling,
Silently drifting down to the earth,
Leaving their home of the live-long Summer,
Quitting the tree that gave them birth.

Ah, poor seared leaves! that all through the Summer,
Had rustled and waved in the whispering breeze;

A part-such a fair one-of that great forest,
With its hundreds and hundreds of lordly trees.

Oh, poor dead blossoms! your life is over,
Never again will ye wave and swing,
Never the sun-light illumine your colours

With the glorious hues of Summer and Spring.

In this drear season all things are dying,
Fading and dying and passing away;
Their life is over, and now to claim them
Are coming silently-Death and Decay.

When Winter is over, and all things rejoicing
Turn eager to hail the first smile of the Spring,
Your lives are forgotten-new leaves are budding
On the very boughs where you used to swing.

Your Spring is departed; the shelter afforded
By your fresh shade from the burning sun,
And all your beauty-your wonderful beauty—
Is past and over-your day is done.

Poor faded leaflets! you did your duty,

So quietly rest, though forgotten by all;
Your lives were completed in perfect order,

You may e'en be contented to die and fall.
Still for a lifetime, in varying season,

We each have our turn; then like you are laid by,
Let us be careful, while life-time is lasting

To do what we may do, before we die.

A SLEIGHING PARTY.

'OH, mamma! do come and look at this extraordinary procession; quick! before they stop!' and the speaker, a girl of fourteen, sprang hastily up from the low seat where she had been sitting reading, and throwing up the window, leant out to view the scene below her.

There was a merry sound of sleigh-bells, young voices, and laughter; and, as she opened the window, she was greeted by a shout of 'Oh, Lilian! we're going for a sleigh-drive, do be quick and get ready.'

They were an extraordinary procession! A pair of bay horses, in their gay Canadian harness, ornamented with the sleigh-bells, which every now and then rang merrily out in the frosty air; a larger sled, with a high driving-seat, and attached to it were fourteen or fifteen little sleds, tied together by a long rope. Each of these sleds was about two feet long, and stood about a foot from the ground, and each was occupied by a boy or girl, evidently intent on having a 'good time.'

In less time than it takes to write it, Lilian was ready, and her sleigh was fastened to the end of the cavalcade. All tucked themselves warmly in under their fur robes, and, with a crack of the whip, a shout from the spectators, and a merry peal ringing out from the sleigh-bells, they flew gaily down

the avenue, tearing along, as only a pair of sure-footed Canadian horses can, over the smooth well-beaten snow.

But at the gate the driver turned quickly to the left, too quickly for some unwary passengers, who were not on the look-out, and several of the sleighs were upset, sending the unlucky occupants into the depths of the snow-drift. However, they soon emerged, red and rosy, and none the worse for their tumble.

Then the fun grew fast and furious; sharp turns were taken, and many unfortunate ones might be seen lying abandoned on the road, or racing wildly after the sleds in the vain hope of catching up their companions. At last there was a general halt; the stragglers were picked up, and the party proceeded more soberly on their way.

Familiarity may breed contempt;' but certainly several of the party found time to remark on the loveliness of the

scenery.

The spray from the Falls had been blowing over towards the bank, and the trees, stripped of their summer foliage, were covered with one which had not been intended by Nature. Each individual twig was covered with a coating of ice, and the sun shining on it gave it the appearance of being a forest of jewels. Long icicles hung from the rocks, and everything was clothed in a pure, white, icy covering. Far away in front of them stretched the great Niagara, the grand old river,. with its waters dashing and glistening in the sun, as they hurried on in their mad rush over the rocky steps, till they took the final leap and fell boiling and raging into the chasm below.

After an hour's driving, our party reached a smaller river, which, being frozen over, offered every inducement for skating; and soon the energetic ones were darting about on their skates, while the lazy ones were being driven about on the ice.

Lilian and her cousin Norman were skating at some distance from the rest of the party. She had been sitting on