remarkable occurrence. I do not remember that I ever knew him to neglect or forget an appointment', or to fail of being punctual to the precise moment', since I employed him." There is a boy worth having. Any body might know', or, at least, they might be pretty sure', from only this short account of him', that he was a boy to be trusted in all respects';-that he would not take what was not his own, or tell untruths', or be inclined to any of the kinds of mischief that some boys delight in.

We do not pretend to say that it follows, of course', that a boy who is not faithful to his appointments, or punctual in his attention to his duties', is a thief, or a liar', or a mischievous fellow. But we do say, that such a boy is never good for much; or, if that is saying too much', we will only maintain that there is sure to be a great deal that is bad about him.

Take Ned Lounger', for example. Did you ever know him be in season at any place in your life"? It is true, he is a lazy sort of fellow'; and it would be as easy to start a side of the house', as ever to get him to hurry at all; but then hûrrying is not what we want. Punctual people are scarcely ever in a hurry. They calculate to be in season about every thing'; they set about things at the right time', and so it is seldom that they find it necessary' to hurry. Ned Lounger, we were saying', could not be expected to hûrry, if it were to save his life. But it would be very easy for him to set out for school in good season in the morning' without any hurry. He has nothing in the world to do, except to play, and eat his breakfast', from the time he gets up', till it is time for school. And now look at him', as he is setting out', just enough after the hour', to make sure of being late. He must have time enough', while he is latching the door', to look up' the street, and down' the street, and perhaps to stop some boy who is passing', to ask him some question about his hoop, or his ball. That would be well enough at some other time'; but doesn't Ned know that it is time he was making a little quicker movement'? In truth, he seems not to be thinking much about it. With his satchel slung over one shoulder, and a stick in his hand', with which now and then to give a good rap under people's windows', he goes sauntering along.

And now, having observed Ned on his way to school', might not any body judge pretty well how he would behave

when he had arrived there'?—It is quite certain that he doesn't care any thing about school; for if he did', he would take more pains to have it go on well. Every body knows, in the first place', that punctuality is the life and soul of a good school. It makes no difference how well the lessons are learned, if the boys are not ready to recite them at the proper time. There must be regularity', and there cannot be regularity', without punctuality'-punctuality in attendance-punctuality in the preparations of lessons' -punctuality in every thing. Punctuality should be the school-boy's watchword. A tardy scholar is almost always one who has a thousand other' faults. Our Ned Lounger, in fact, has scarcely a good quality to be named`, or, at any rate, scarce a good quality that ever gives him any credit'; for, if he does a thing ever so well', it always comes', as people say, "the day after the fair'." He has had to stop after school, many a time, to recite a lesson that might have been learned in season just as well as not.

There is Harry Bustle';-he is another of your behind hand folks';-always a little tardy at every place', and about every thing. He is a very different character from Ned Lounger', it is true. Instead of never being in a hurry', you will never see him when he is not in one. It is really amusing to observe how he manages to be always a little too late. If his father wishes him to call upon some gentleman with a letter or a message', precisely at some given hour', he will be sure not to think of setting out' till that hour arrives`;—and then he will hurry along, and feel very much surprised, on his arrival', if he does not find the person', when he set out exactly at the time.' It is just so about going to school. He always thinks there is time enough', till the very moment comes when he ought to be there'; and then he begins to turn the house upside down', to find his books or slate'; and sets off, at last, in the most violent hurry. It seems very strange that experience does not teach him any better', when the same thing happens morning after morning.

6

Harry would be worth twice as much as he is now', with one half the abilities he possesses', if there was such a thing as placing any dependence on him. But this cannot be done. He scarcely does such a thing as punctually to keep one' engagement out of fifty. His teacher would sometimes say, when he wanted any thing done for the school'-such as copies set for the younger classes',-"There is Harry Bustle',

he would be just the one for the business', if we could be sure of having them ready at the right time': but I am afraid he would never be about them in season.

Harry lost a great many pleasures by his tardy habits, besides giving a great deal of trouble to other people. A little while ago the boys started a plan for taking a sail to Nahant together. Harry was to be of the party', and he anticipated a great deal of pleasure', for he had never been in a steam-boat in his life. But alas! Harry must needs manage to be at the wharf just in time to be left behind. He has met with many similar disappointments-enough', one would think', to cure him of his negligent habits. But alas! it did him but little good. The worst of such habits is', that it is almost impossible to break them up after they are once formed. The only way to avoid the evil, is to avoid forming them in the first place.

There are a great many men who have the same failing with young Harry. They will be sure not to set about a piece of business' till the time when it should be done. Mr. Dilatory is one of these characters. If there is to be a public meeting', Mr. Dilatory never thinks of starting till the time when he ought to be there'; and then he begins to bustle about for his hat and cane.

Perhaps Harry thinks that he is not so very bad, after all', if there are so many men who are no better. Do not think of consoling yourself in that way, Harry'. There are bad men enough in the world', and I would not imitate them. There is this, too, to be considered. If you are already such a negligent, tardy sort of character', what will you be when you are grown up'? If you are bad already, you will of course be worse hereafter.

LESSON V.

YATES AND DOWNING.-AN INDIAN STORY.

SOME of the adventures of our countrymen with the Indians of the West are so striking', that, though true', they have the appearance of fiction.

In August 1786, two young men, near the Slate-Creek Iron Works in Kentucky', by the names of Yates and Down

ing', set out together in pursuit of a horse which had strayed into the woods. Towards evening they found themselves six or seven miles from home', and, at that timé, exposed to danger from the Indians. Downing even began to fancy he heard the cracking of sticks in the bushes behind them, but Yates, who was somewhat experienced as a hunter', only laughed at his fears.

He still thought

Downing, however, was not satisfied. that the Indians were following them', and at last' determined to find out. Gradually slackening his pace', he allowed Yates to get several rods before him', and immediately after descending a little hill', he suddenly sprung aside and hid himself in a thick cluster of whortleberry bushes. Yates was humming over a song just at the time', and did not think of Downing or the Indians any more for several minutes.

No sooner was he out of sight, than Downing saw two savages come out of a cane-brake', and look cautiously after Yates. Fearful that they had seen him secrete himself, he determined to fire on them', but his hand was so unsteady that he discharged his gun without taking aim', and then ran. When he had run ten or twelve rods, he met Yates`, who, having heard the report of the gun', was coming back to inquire what was the matter. The Indians were now in full pursuit', and Yates was glad to run with Downing.

Just at this place the road divided`, and, at some distance farther on', the divisions came together again. Yates and Downing took one' road, and the two Indians, probably to get ahead of them', took the other. The former, however, reached the junction of the two roads first. But, coming nearly at the same time to a deep gulley', Downing fell into it', while the Indians, who crossed it a little lower down', not observing his fall, kept on after Yates.

Here Downing had time to reload his gun', but he did not think of it; for he was busy in climbing up on the banks of the ditch to learn the fate of his companion. To his surprise, he saw one of the Indians returning to search for him. What should he do now? His gun was no longer of use`, so he threw it aside', and again plied his heels, with the Indian after him.

Coming at length to a large poplar tree which had been blown up by the roots', he ran along the body of the tree upon ōne side', while the Indian followed on the other to meet him

at the root. It happened, however', that a large she bear was suckling her cubs in a bed which she had made at the root of the tree', and, as the Indian reached the spot a moment first, she sprang upon him', and a prodigious uproar took place. The Indian yelled, and stabbed with his knife'; the bear growled, hugged him closely', and endeavored to tear him,' while Downing, not anxious to stand long to see the end of the battle', took to his heels with new courage', and finally reached home in safety'; where Yates, after a hot chase', had arrived some time before him.

On the next morning they collected a party', and returned to the poplar tree to ascertain what had become of the Indian and bear'; but they could find no traces of either. Both, they concluded, escaped with their lives', though not without injury.

LESSON VI.

CAPT. GREG AND HIS DOG.

"Soon after the British and Indians, under General St. Ledger, raised the seige of Fort Schuyler, Capt. Greg, one of the American officers left in the garrison, obtained permission to hunt', accompanied by a brother officer. As they were on their return to the fort, they were suddenly fired upon by an ambush of Indians', who then knocked them down', and scalped them from the forehead to the back of the neck', leaving only a couple of small locks of hair by the side of the ears. Capt. Greg had the resolution to lie perfectly still, during this horrible operation'; though he afterwards said, that he felt as if hot lead were poured over him. The Indians, supposing he was dead, left him.

On attempting to rise, Capt. Greg found his backbone severely wounded', and his forehead bruised by the stroke of the tomahawk. Alone, and mangled as he was, he had no hope of life. In some measure to mitigate his intense sufferings, he crawled along to his dead companion', and, opening his vest', he laid his throbbing head upon the soft bosom', not yet cold in death'; for the stones and sticks, among which he had lain, were torture to him.

* Pronounced Sky-ler.