HE common linnet is a beautiful little bird, well known in most parts of England. Its plumage varies with its age and the seasons of the year, which fact has caused superficial observers to suppose birds of the same order, but of somewhat varied colours, to belong to different species, and to call them by different The linnet is a sweet singer, and

names.

is much sought after by the bird-catcher for sale. It will sing very sweetly even when imprisoned in a cage; but we like to hear it best when, perched upon a neighbouring tree, it breaks the silence of a summer's eve by its delightful music. Linnets build their nests in low bushes of moss and stalks of grass, mixed with wool; the female generally lays four or five eggs in a season.

AMIABLE JACK.

SCHOOL-BOYS' DIALOGUE.

IRST Boy.-Fun, Fun, Fun-I believe there is a real conspiracy of all men and nature, so that boys shan't enjoy themselves.

2nd Boy.-Why, Jack, what is the mat. ter you got up too early this morning.

1st Boy.-Matter enough; it is nothing but scolding and lecturing-lecturing and scolding. I tell you there is a conspiracy between all the fathers, mothers, sisters, ministers, and teachers, to deprive boys of all pleasure. 2nd Boy.-Why, what in the world has riled you so? 1st Boy.-Well, to begin, father can't bear a bit of noise, and mother can't bear a bit of dirt, and a fellow can't even put his cap and coat on the entry table, but Miss Kate must poke them away in some dark closet-just as if my coat and cap were not just as good as the fellow that comes to see her.

1st Boy. And then, just because I pushed Joe Brown's foot a little yesterday, and he blotted his copy book, I had to stay in at recess-I am bound I'll whip him for it.

3rd Boy.-It seems your fun consists principally in making other people uncomfortable.

2nd Boy.-I must say all boys are not so miserable. I am one of the happiest fellows alive.

3rd Boy. And I ditto; nobody persecutes me; the girls do try to tease me a little, but I guess we are about square. 4th Boy--Didn't you have a good time shooting at that chicken?

1st -If you say anything about that chicken I'll fight you, or my name isn't Jack Robinson. (Boys all look at each other.)

4th Boy.-Well, nobody spoils my amusement, since about

two years ago I made up my mind to try and enjoy myself without making anybody or anything else miserable. Why, even our good pastor caught me the otherday in the parlour cutting all sorts of capers, and he only stood and looked at me and smiled: he said as he went away, "The best way to take care of a boy is to educate his hands and feet, his heart and intellect. But, George, earnestly desire the best gifts". —And I mean to do it.

1st Boy.-Oh, I've just thought of something; Richard set a snare for some fish; if he finds any after I get there, it will be a wonder. (Exit.)

3rd Boy. He is a selfish fellow; what little pleasure he has I would not have if I could.

2nd Boy.-But what is it about the chicken ?

4th Boy.-Oh, didn't you hear about his tying up a live chicken and making a target of it, and how the minister watched him some time? Then I rather guess he got a talking to.

3rd Boy.-I think he ought to have got something more than a talking to for that, just as if there was not suffering enough without using a poor dumb creature that way.

4th -I should like to have frightened him as the ventriloquist did the Irishman who was beating his donkey unmercifully; he made the beast say, "Patrick, don't you know I was your mother once, pray don't beat me so." As the story goes he dropped the stick and ran. (All laugh).

2nd Boy.-It would have been good for him-But hallowhat is the matter out there? Ha, ha, ha,-why, Jack has caught something besides other folks' fish (Boys all crowd round to see).

3rd Bo-He has been head foremost in the pond-sure ha, ha, ha!

4th Boy,-Let's go, and see—this is too good.

2nd Boy.-Don't anger him, that will do no good; but we've got to laugh. (Exeunt omnes laughing).—Student and Schoolmate.

ARRY BELLWOOD was a kind brother, a merry playmate, and, on the whole, a dutiful son; but, like everyone else, he had his failings, and amongst them was one that often led him into sad trouble. About some of these troubles we are going to tell; not because it is pleasant to talk about others' mishaps, but in order that you may be warned by them to avoid following in the same direction.

Harry was about twelve years old at the time of which we are writing; quite old enough to know right from wrong, as, indeed, he did, though he sometimes persuaded himself that some things were quite right when they were really quite wrong. As he had kind Christian parents, he had been taught how sinful it was to tell untruths, and this he remembered and acted upon so far as not plainly to say what he knew to be quite false; but we grieve to add, that sometimes when it was not quite convenient to tell the exact truth, he would go half-way towards a lie, by saying something that was true in itself, but which conveyed a meaning that was untrue to the person of whom he spoke. This way of mixing truth and falsehood is sometimes called a "white lie," and people will often say there is not much harm in it; but the following story will, we think, tell you differently. Harry's brother, little Tom, was ill. He had been poorly all the week; but, on Saturday evening, he was much worse. Their father and mother were poor, and could not afford to get him all the nice things they wished.

Just as Harry was going out to play on the village-green, his mother called him, and told him to run down into the town, which was about a mile and a-half away, and get two

of the best oranges he could. "For," said she, "Tommy is so restless, his mouth is so parched and dry, and he asks for an orange more than anything." So, giving him a threepennypiece to pay for the fruit, she returned to her sick child, and Harry ran off on his errand.

He was sorry to leave his play; but, as he loved his brother, he was glad to do what he could for him. Off he ran in his eagerness till, almost out of breath, he reached the shop, made his purchase, and began to walk home again. But, after his run, he too was hot and thirsty; and, as he looked at the oranges, which he carried one in each hand, and compared them to see which was the largest and nicest-looking, he suddenly thought how much he should like to taste "But Tommy is ill," something seemed to say to him, "and it would be cruel to take one from him."

one.

It would have been well for Harry had he listened to the whisper of conscience, and put the oranges into his pockets, where he would no longer have been tempted by the sight of them; instead of that, he still looked at them and the more he looked the more he longed.

Just as he was debating whether he dare eat half of one, he looked up, and saw Robert Dareall, or Bob, as he was called, one of his school-fellows, running to meet him.

"Halves!" shouted Bob, as soon as he saw what Harry was carrying, Who gave them you?" he added.

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The temptation to "show off" instantly seized Harry, who, instead of telling the whole truth about them, said carelessly, to make it look as if he had plenty of money to spare, "Oh, I bought them with threepence I had in my pocket."

"All right, then," said Robert, "we'll go shares."

"No, I shan't answered Harry.

"Yes, you will, or else you're a stingy sneak, after all the scrapes I've kept you out of.”

Harry was now in a fix; he did not like to be called a "stingy sneak," and if he did not "go shares," Robert, who