the leaves round the window, but has not panes. That tells me it is

yet touched the just six o'clock.

you.

4. John. I don't understand 5. Harry. Why, look here! My bed is so placed that as I lie my legs point towards the window that is south; and my head the other way that is north; and your bed is so way—that placed that your legs point westwards and your head eastwards. Now the sun is always exactly in the east at six o'clock every morning. If there were a window just above your head, sunbeams would be just now streaming straight along your bed.

6. John. Look, Harry! while you've been telling me all that, a slit of sunlight has stolen through the window, and is now shining on the wall yonder.

7. Harry. That shows it is now later than six. If you watch that gleam of light on the wall you will see it growing wider, and sinking lower, till it moves along the floor towards my bed. In six hours it will be on the floor below the window. It will then be noon. After that

8. John. You need not go on, because, I remember, whenever I come up to wash my hands in the after-noon I see the sunshine,

when there is any, sometimes on the floor at the foot of my bed, and sometimes on the bed.

9. Harry. Yes, and if you were to come into the room just at six o'clock in the evening, you would see the rays playing on the leaves outside the window, but none coming into the room, because, as our window faces due south, the wall opposite your feet faces westward, and the sun is exactly in the west at six in the evening, though we can't always see it.

10. John. But, when you went away from home last winter, it was dark at six.

11. Harry. Yes; in winter-time we have only about eight hours' daylight. Don't you remember, we could see both sunrise and sunset from this window when we slept here together last Christmas?

12. John. To be sure we could; and I remember, too, the sunlight used to fall then all day on the beds and the walls, and not, as it does now, on the floor.

13. Harry. That's quite true. In winter the sun rises towards what we sailors call the south-east, and sets towards the south-west. At noon, too, he has mounted but a little way up the sky, when he begins to sink westwards.

THE FIRST GRIEF.

I. 'O CALL my brother back to me;

I cannot play alone;

The summer comes with flower and bee—
Where is my brother gone?

2. 'The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track:

I care not now to chase its flight-
O, call my brother back!

3. 'The flowers run wild-the flowers we sowed Around our garden-tree;

Our vine is drooping with its load

O, call him back to me!'

4. He would not hear my voice, fair child, He may not come to thee;

The face that once like spring-time smiled
On earth no more thou'lt see.

5. A rose's brief bright life of joy,

Such unto him was given;

Go-thou must play alone, my boy-
Thy brother is in heaven!'

6. 'And has he left the birds and flowers?
And must I call in vain?

And through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?

7. 'And by the brook, and in the glade,
Are all our wanderings o'er ?

O, while my brother with me played,
Would I had loved him more !'

Mrs. Hemans

1. THE people called Arabs live not only in Arabia, but also in many other parts of the vast continent called Africa. They seldom stay long in one spot, as they are obliged to wander from place to place in order to obtain food and water for their flocks.

2. The Arabs live in tents, so that when they want to change their abode, they have only to pack up their tents and what little fur

niture they have, bind it all on the backs of their camels, and start off in search of a new home.

3. The tent of the Arab is made of cotton, and is often covered with goat's hair to keep out the rain. It contains only one room, which is sometimes divided into two parts by means of a carpet which is hung across the

tent.

4. Arabs are often kind to the strangers whom they meet travelling in the desert, and give them water if they are in need of it.

5. You know that in a desert there are but few wells or springs, and sometimes travellers have to go for many days before they meet with water. So that it is very kind of the Arabs to give water or milk to the tired strangers.

6. But some Arabs are very selfish, and will give neither food nor drink to travellers unless they are well paid for it.

7. The Arab is very fond of his horse, and treats him with great kindness. The horse lives with him in his tent, and is looked upon by his children as quite a playmate, and a very kind and gentle playmate he is.