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stay the torrent of Alfred's impetuosity, it was the eloquence of his sister's voice, or the silent entreaties of her tear-fraught eyes.

The haughtiness, the free speech, and hot blood of Alfred, often inflamed to acts of violence, soon rendered him an object of dislike and terror to the little household of his father. Over these he ruled with an iron hand, and, as his years increased, so His father, from a also grew the evil. mistaken feeling of tenderness, had turned a deaf ear to the entreaties of his sister, Miss Esther Ashton, that he would send his son to a public school, out of the sphere of such dangerous indulgence.

"It will make the poor boy wretched." was the burden of Mr. Ashton's arguments; "and, if he be a little self-willed now, as he grows up he will see its impropriety, and

break himself of it."

Miss Esther saw the inutility of arguing the matter, and, declaring she was sure that the boy would be ruined in the end, entirely ceased from mooting the question.

Alfred had nearly attained his eleventh birthday, when a cousin of his own age was invited by Mr. Ashton to spend his school

vacation in his uncle's house.

A similarity of age and pursuits drew the boys much together, and soon the unhappy

disposition of Alfred displayed itself. Harry Baynton, however, was not of a nature to bend quietly to the tyrannic humours of his playmate. Harry at first laughed at his cousin Alfred's affectation of superiority, but finding it persisted in, he flatly told him that he would resent the further display of so overbearing a demeanour.

For a day or two each young gentleman refrained from conversation. The only intercourse they exchanged being by looks, silent, indeed, but not the less expressive.

Harry had a favourite terrier puppy, and Alfred had a no less favourite collection of tulips, then in the full bloom of their gaudy beauty. It unluckily happened that the wicket of the flower-garden was one morning left open, and it as unluckily chanced that little Carlo, spying the opportunity thus afforded him, gaily frisked into the forbidden ground. The spirit of ill luck quickly led him to the tulip bed of Alfred, and, as if purposely confining his gambols to this spot, in a few moments he had utterly broken down the slender stem of every flaunting flower, aud to heighten his triumph, or amusement, began to roll among the overthrown beauties. While thus perseveringly employed, Alfred entered the garden, and approaching his tulip bed, beheld the desolation and recognized the culprit.

Vexation for a moment overcame him, and bursting into tears he stood gazing at the dog and the broken flowers. Rage, however, soon possessed him, and snatching up a stick that was in the path, he laid it unmercifully about the back and sides of the dog, who, quitting the scene of his mischief, took to his heels yelping furiously, followed by the angry Alfred. The cries of the dog soon reached the ears of his master, and running out to ascertain the cause, he en countered his cousin, his face flushed with anger and brandishing his weapon of offence over his head.

"Pray, what is the matter?" exclaimed Harry Baynton, holding out his arm to stay an intended blow aimed at the dog, who had by this time cowered between his master's legs, where he vented his pain and discontent in a low continued howl-"what can the poor dog have done to exasperate you thus?"

"What!" rejoined Alfred almost choked with passion" the filthy whelp has des troyed all my beautiful tulips-but take care, let me get at him-I'll teach him a lesson he shall not quickly forget."

Harry gently repulsed the attempts he made to seize the dog, and said, mildly, "Indeed, Alfred, I am very sorry-but do not beat the poor dog-he knew not the mischief he was doing."

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"Very fine, truly;" said Alfred, with scorn "I am to have all my flowers destroyed. and put up with it because your dog knew no better."

"But, my dear Alfred," said Harry, "it was the fault of the person who left the gate open; if any tulips can be got of old Stertian, the nurseryman, I am sure I shall be happy to replace them."

This was the most unpalatable description of redress he could have offered to the proud Alfred, who now exclaimed, with increased anger, "There was no need, Harry Baynton, to add insult to injury, it was not for their beggarly value that I prized the tulips, but as they were of my own cultivation."

"Well, well," replied Harry, "I am sure affronting you was the furthest from my thoughts, and," added he good humouredly, "I should have known and have paid greater respect to the enthusiasm of an amateur."

Sarcasm, however slight or pointless, Alfred hardly brooked at any time, and the excited state of his feelings made him construe this sally of his cousin into a galling insult. His face became livid with his passion, and quickly muttering, "If you were twice my cousin, I would not brook your insolent sneers," he struck Harry a violent blow on the face.

Its violence for a moment staggered him

and the blood flowed copiously down his features; but, a little recovering himself, he lost no time in returning the aggression, and

a furious combat ensued between the cousins. [To be continued.]

T

EVIL SPEAKING.

HE following anecdote is related of the late excellent J. J. Gurney, by one who, as a child, was often of his family circle:

One night I remember it well-I received a severe lesson on the sin of evil speaking. Severe I thought it then, and my heart rose in childish anger against him who gave it; but I had not lived long enough in this world to know how much mischief a child's thoughtless talk may do, and how often it happens that great talkers run off the straight line of truth. I was talking very fast about some female relative, who did not stand very high in my esteem, and was about to speak further of her failings of temper. In a few moments my eyes caught a look of such calm and steady displeasure, that I stopped short. There was no mistaking the meaning of that dark, speaking eye. It brought the