grand and noble animals are the heroes. Their mind at the same time pictures to them a large dog with a kindly face and a fond eye, big enough to hold his own among the breakers of the beach, and to defend and protect those he loves. Fancy generally puts a stick into his mouth, which he carries from sheer love of doing something to oblige somebody. The picture has truth enough in it, and I have no hope of telling them anything fresh, unless I tell them of one or two dogs of that breed which I happened to know intimately. Before I introduce them let me add, however, that almost everybody knows some one who owes a debt of gratitude (often for the saving of life and limb) to a dog, and most o to one of the Newfoundland breed, as, ... their being pleasant and useful companions in our walks, they have more chances of increasing and using that intelligence which is deadened by life at the chain or in a kennel. Nobody need expect great sagacity from a dog unless he has him with him constantly, treats him kindly, and makes a friend of him. A neighbour of mine told me how once, when shooting in Devonshire by the sea-coast, he was only saved from falling at a dangerous spot into the water by his dog seizing hold of the skirts of his coat and pulling him back, thereby directing his eye, which had been following the flight of some birds, to the ground, and his perilous position. The next step would have plunged him into a bath, out of which neither his own nor his dog's strength could have helped him, and he must have been drowned.

The kind of dog which made people think so much of the Newfoundland breed is not a very large, but a sturdy, powerful dog. His glossy, deep, sooty-black hair, is longish, and flaky; it parts on the middle of the back, and has no curl in it. He has a deep lip, a dewlap, or plenty of skin, under the throat, carries his tail straight out, not curled, has well-set-on hanging ears, though short ones, and a splendid voice. His legs are short and thick, the muscles on the forelegs like those on a strong lad's arm. I knew one; he had come straight from America. Unfortunately he fell into hands that did him injustice; and I fear, that beyond having a most loving temper, and being very brave in the water, and, I am sorry to say, in a fight, there was nothing to record of him, except that he wasted his life in neglect, and tied to a chain. His lovely coat fell off in patches, and he looked a pitiable object when I saw him for the last time.

With all his splendid qualities the Newfoundland dog has that one great fault of being quarrelsome, and somewhat given to get whims when he grows to a mature age. If you offend him in one of these, you may possibly be astonished, nay, frightened, by his unexpected growl; maybe, by a threatening snap at your hand. Some of these dogs do not like their heads touched for a continuance, or at all; some require particular respect to be paid to their tails. I would advise my little readers never to be afraid of any dog, as they will not hurt them, if not provoked ; but at the same time never to meddle with strange dogs; never to touch a dog without speaking to him, especially when coming from behind or when the dog is asleep; and lastly, but especially, never to interfere with a dog's food, or with him when he is enjoying a bone. I have never yet known a case of a dog biting a child of its own accord in which the first mistake had not arisen from a neglect of these three simple rules.

Pugnacity sent the dog, whose picture is in this Prize, out of a most happy and comfortable home. He was one of the largest and finest I ever saw ; but being too troublesome, he was returned to the person from whom he had been bought for a large price. He was so handsome, and so good a water-dog, that he soon found another owner in a young gentleman then at Oxford, to whom his courage was a chief recommendation. I saw him introduced also in the portrait of his second owner, as he had been painted with the first.

of old baskets, brooms, dead cats and dogs, and other sundries, which hefetched in that way, on a signal being given to him to do so. How he did like to follow a carriage 1

I was about eighteen years old when I saw him first, and could hardly sleep for thinking of him. I bought him at last, but got into a scrape about it, and learned

I fear he went from hand to hand afterwards, and caused much trouble to others

and to himself, because he would not con

form to the customs of civilised life. It was different with poor “Sailor,” the only Newfoundland I ever possessed. He was almost as stout and as handsome as the one in our picture; but to the black and white was added a rim of beautiful tan. Two bright, light eyes, in his big black head, beamed with gladness at your ap

roach. He, too, could fight; but never

egan the quarrel. If you only showed him anything floating in the water he would dash after it; and I have no doubt would have been a most efficient member of the Royal Humane Society, had opportunity arisen. As it was, it would be a very strange museum that could be formed

a lesson that lasted me all my life. To redeem my mistake I parted with him, and he got into the hands of a single lady who lived in a pleasant country house. He stayed there during the rest of his life, and was a cheerful and gentle companion, a faithful friend, and a trusty guard.

ANECDOTE OF A CAT.

ONE day a lady had fish for dinner. The cat happened to #. a young kitten which swallowed a bone which would not go down its throat, it laid in pain for two or three hours, they were going to get a man to kill it. The mother was standing by it before the man could get to the spot. The mother put its paw down the kitten's throat and drew the bone out.

LAST WORDS AND LAST WORKS. IN all we say and in all we do, we are ever

getting nearer to the word or work, of which it shall be said “It is the last.” We must have a very hard heart that is not touched when we hear the last words of any one, or see their last works.

Even amid the din of battle, soldiers have forgotten their own danger that they might support some dying comrade in their arms, and catch his last words

-perhaps some tender message to the loved ones at home, perhaps some prayerto God, Iike that of the brave captain whose last words were “Lord, make haste !"

Or in the quiet chamber, when death is entering the happy home and calling the mother to the spiritand, how sore the hearts of those weeping ones who love her, as they hear her last words, and yet,

E'en the last parting earth can know
Brings not unutterable woe

To souls that heaven-ward soar:

For humble faith, with steadfast eye,
Points to a brighter world on high,
Where hearts that here at parting sigh

May meet to part no more. And though last works do not give pain so sharp as last words, yet they often call

the tear into the eye and make the heart to ache anew. The father keeps the rough little boat which was the last work that his boy carved before he went to sea, and never came back, and the mother tenderly cares for the sampler which her daughter did not live to finish; and when she goes to tell the lady who taught her child in the Sun da y school, she takes it with her to show the kind teacher how good a child she had lost.

Each of us, day by day, is getting nearer to saying our

last word and doing our last work. Oh, let us live, and speak, and act, so that when that time comes those who mourn for us may feel that we have gone to the purer words and higher works that are everlasting in heaven!

To guide them lest they goastray, And keep them safe from fear.”

OOD news! good news!” cried Janet M*Gregor, as she joined her class one morning. “What is it !” asked the girls eagerly, looking up from the history books they had been oring over while wait- ing for their governess, Miss Barton, to make her appearance. “Oh! Janet, are we to have a holiday?” exclaimed little Lucy Selwyn. “A holiday ! no, you baby; always thinking of holidays Don't you know Friday is a whole holiday ! It's only that Mrs. Hurst is going to take our class herself this morning; but if that isn't good news, I don't know what is.” “I should think it is Capital Oh, I am glad " replied a chorus of voices; which, however, was quickly silenced by Mrs. Hurst's entrance at that moment. It was a history lesson for which the girls were now prepared ; and a history lesson from Mrs. Hurst was always considered a great treat. She knew so many little anecdotes that no one else seemed to have heard of, and was so ready to answer any questions the children might put to her, that it was no wonder they had all been glad to hear that she was to take Miss Barton's place that morning. They were reading the reign of Edward III. ; and so much interested did they become in the siege of Calais and all that Mrs. Hurst could tell them about it, that time slipped by unnoticed, and the whole class looked up in surprise as the clock struck twelve. “You must go out now, my dears,” said Mrs. Hurst; “but I have something to say to you before you put away your books. I want you all to write me an account of the siege of Calais; never mind how little you remember, each try to do your best. You shall have this room to yourselves

have written by eight o'clock; that will give you plenty of time, I think." “Oh, yes,” answered one or two of the girls; while some few muttered something about not being able to write it at all; they had never done such a thing before. “Never mind,” said Mrs. Hurst, in answer to the grumblers, “do your best, and you are sure to please me. Besides, I am going to make it worth while for you all to try; for I mean to give a prize to the one who writes the best account. As Friday is to be a holiday, it will be a very good o for prize-giving; and what do you say to having that print that you are all so fond of for the prize,_you know which I mean,—“The Light of the World !’” “Oh, Mrs. Hurst l” exclaimed the children, in delight, “how very good of you!” and their cheeks glowed with excitement. “You would like that ? Well, my dears, then of course you will understand that you must, none of you, look at the story again before you write it to-morrow afternoon; you must write it quite from memory. Put away the books now, Janet, and make haste, all of you, and run into the garden.” Off ran the happy children, eager to tell their good fortune to their sisters or friends in the other classes. Being the youngest class in the school, they had never before had anything of this kind given them to do, so the little affair became quite an event; and the elder girls discussed, as eagerly as the younger ones themselves, the different chances each had of getting the much-desired prize. “No one seems to think either you or I have a chance,” said Etta Lamington to her great friend, Lucy Selwyn ; “I wish one of us could.” “Oh, Etta, we are such little girls, and I can't spell a bit, you know. I should never be able to do it, but I shall try, though; for I do care to please Mrs. Hurst, she is so kind always." “Oh, Lucy, you don't know how much I want to get that picture. Arthur is so