They posted then to Paraguay, and touched at the Brazils,

Nor stopp'd till quite confounded, on the Neilgherry hills.

The lady said, "This surely is an almost useless task."

"The inspector's coming shortly, Ma'am-we don't know what he'll ask,

And in the maps especially, we wish them to excel; Lest when he makes report of us, we should not stand so well

As other schools, and thus incur discouragement and blame,

And bring a slur, it may be, on the governess's

name.

The lady felt the reasoning, and turn'd her to a class That round a pupil-teacher had arranged itself to parse.

She listened with astonishment to hear grammarians young

Anatomise the very roots of our fine English tongue;

They marshall'd all the parts of speech, and, with no hesitation,

Of every kind of verb they show'd mood, tense, and conjugation.

The lady felt her ignorance, and was afraid to show To those triumphant, eager eyes, how little ladies know;

So pass'd to where another class was then in full display,

And here again she almost felt inclined to run away. Such miracles in Rule of Three! such mental calculation!

Whilst billions and quintillions ran in easy numeration.

But now at last she call'd to mind the thing for which she came,

And straight went to the governess, her business there to name.

Could she have half a dozen shirts made by the children there?

About her shirt work she must say, she was particular.

The mistress look'd along the forms, and scanned her workers o'er;

But one might read upon her face, she knew they'd not the power.

66 We've very few good workers now-our time is very full

So many other things have been put foremost in the school

And little interest is felt about the sewing too, Compared with many other things the children have to do;

The learned gentlemen who come, with college education,

Of course consider needlework beneath their observation.

But as we gain a grant of books and money for the schools,

The whole committee think it best to carry out their rules.

I wish that ladies competent were made inspectors too, To give importance to the things that women ought to do;

We should not then be posed to find young people who could sew;

"Tis nothing but encouragement that children want, you know.

And were my own opinion asked, I certainly should [away; The time that's spent in needlework is never thrown

say,

But 'tis with that as other things, in order to excel, There must be time and practice, too, before they do it well."

The lady look'd at all the work, and sadly shook her head,

She plainly saw that at the school her shirts could not be made.

She went away-what next she did I need not now

relate,

But I have heard it, as a fact, that from that very

date

She reconcil'd her mind to what she had opposed before,

That we must have machines to sew, now hands

can sew no more.

WONDERS OF THE ATMOSPHERE. THE atmosphere rises above us with its cathedral dome arching towards heaven, of which it is the most perfect synonym and symbol. It floats around us like that grand object which the apostle John saw in his vision, a sea of glass, like unto crystal." So massive is it, that when it begins to stir it tosses about great ships like playthings, and sweeps cities and forests like snowflakes to destruction before it.

66

And yet it is so mobile that we have lived for years in it before we can be persuaded that it exists at all, and the great bulk of mankind never realize the truth that they are bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight is so enormous that iron shivers before it like glass, yet a soap ball sails through it with impunity, and the tiniest insect waves it aside with its wing. It ministers lavishly

us.

to all our senses. We touch it not, but it touches Its warm south wind brings back colour to the pale face of the invalid; its cool west winds refresh the fevered brow and make the blood mantle to our cheeks; even its north blasts brace into new vigour the hardened children of our rugged climate.

The eye is indebted to it for all the magnificence of sunrise, the brightness of midday, the chastened radiance of the morning, and the clouds that cradle near the setting sun. But for it the rainbow would want its "triumphant arch," and the winds would not send the fleecy messengers on errands around the heavens; the cold ether would not send snow feathers upon the earth, nor would drops of dew gather on the flowers. The kindly rain would never fall, nor hailstorm nor fog diversify the face of the sky; our naked globe would turn its tanned and unshadowed forehead to the sun, and one dreary monotonous blaze of light and heat dazzle and burn up all things.

Were there no atmosphere, the evening sun would in a moment set, and, without warning, plunge the earth into darkness. But the air keeps in her hand a shield of her rays, and lets them slip but slowly through her fingers, so that the shadows of evening are gathered by degrees, and the flowers have time to bow their heads, and each creature space to find a place of rest, and to nestle to repose. In the morning the garish sun would at one bound burst from the bosom of the night, and blaze above the horizon; but the air watches for his coming, and sends first but one little ray to announce his approach, and then another, and then a handful; and so gently draws aside the curtain of night, and slowly lets

the light fall on the face of the sleeping earth, and, like man, she goes forth again to labour until evening.-Quarterly Review.

THE BROKEN SAW.

A BOY went to live with a man who was accounted a hard master. He never kept his boys; they ran away, or gave notice they meant to quit; so he was half his time without, or in search of, a boy. The work was not very hard-opening and sweeping out the shop, chopping wood, going on errands, and helping round. At last Sam Fisher went to live with him. "Sam's a good boy," said his mother. "I should like to see a boy nowa-days that had a spark of goodness in him," growled the new master.

It is always bad to begin with a man who has no confidence in you; because, do your best, you are likely to have little credit for it. However, Sam thought he would try; the wages were good, and his mother wanted him to go. Sam had been there but three days, before, in sawing a crossgrained stick of wood, he broke the saw. He was

a little frightened. He knew he was careful, and he knew he was a pretty good sawyer, too, for a boy of his age: nevertheless, the saw broke in his hands.

"And Mr. Jones will thrash you for it," said another boy who was in the wood-house with him. "Why, of course, I didn't mean to do it, and accidents will happen to the best of folks," said Sam, looking with a very sorry air on the broken saw. "Mr. Jones never makes allowances," said the other boy; "I never saw anything like him. That Bill might have stayed, only he jumped into a hen's nest and broke her eggs. He daren't tell