the

from the intense heat of the sun by day, and from the chills of night. They serve one of purposes of the skin of animals: that is, the insensible perspiration, which passes off from our bodies through the skin, passes from the trees through the leaves. They refresh the plant, by sucking in moisture from the air. And they are its lungs, or instruments for breathing."

46. "I had no idea they were so useful," said Julia.

47. "Well, you know that in our country, the leaves are killed by the frosts of autumn, and fall to the ground. During the winter, the tree is in a manner asleep, and its life suspended. But when warm weather comes, if there were no leaves, it must die.\ Here, then, is one of the ingenious contrivances I have spoken of. About midsummer, after the young leaves are fully grown, the tree puts out another set, which appear at the bottom of the foot-stalk of each leaf, just above where it comes out of the branch. This set of leaves is intended for the following spring; and the way they are wrapt up, so as to be preserved from the cold of winter, is well worth your attention, for it is both curious and beautiful. On their outside we find a set of scales, covering one another like the shingles of a house. The outer ones are hard and dry, the inner ones more soft and delicate, and somewhat resembling the leaves which they inclose. These scales are fre

quently connected together by a resinous substance which water cannot penetrate. Having removed all the scales, we find the leaves, or flowers, or both, enclosed in a soft down, which forms a complete security against the most severe cold."

48. How curious! how very curious!" cried Charlotte.

49. "Now, is there not an evident contrivance here ?" said Mrs. Rush. "The bed of down, and the hard scales which water cannot penetrate, don't come out at the beginning of winter, but at the beginning of the warm weather. Here is a preparation for a kind of weather that is yet far off; as plain a preparation for winter, as the making of hay in the summer, and filling our barns with it."

50. That's plain enough," said Charlie. 51. "Now let us take a peep at the animals. If you will look, in the fall of the year, at a horse, a dog, or any other animal that has a hairy coat, you will find that he has a fine, soft, new one growing out all over his body, which, added to his old coat, makes him a comfortable winter dress; and as soon as the weather becomes steadily warm in the spring, so as to make the winter clothing uncomfortable, he sheds his old coat. So that you see he is provided with a new greatcoat every winter, and throws away his old clothes every spring. There is no need of his saving it for the return of cold weather.

It comes out of a store-house which can never be emptied. Now is this a contrivance of the dog's, or the contrivance of a Being infinitely superior to man? Could the dog procure such a convenience for himself, or could we contrive and make such a thing for him? Look at the most convenient article of clothing that we make for ourselves, and then compare it with the dog's winter suit."

52. "If we were to try to be the dog's tailor, we should make but an awkward piece of business of it, I am afraid," said Charlie. "I suspect he would get rid of the clothes we made for him as soon as he could, even if the weather was cold."

53. "Well," said Mrs. Rush, "let us leave the dog, and look a little at ourselves. If you will put a finger on your wrist, just at the root of the thumb, you will feel something beating, which we call the pulse. Now the thing that you feel moving is the blood, which is driven by the heart, through thousands of little pipes, all over the body. If the blood was to stop flowing through these pipes, you would soon become cold, and stiffen, and die. Now who is it that keeps your pulse constantly beating? Try if you can stop it, or make it go faster or slower."

54. I have tried it," said Charlie," and I find I can neither stop it, nor make it go faster nor slower."

55. "I have tried it, too," said Charlotte, "and can do nothing with it either."

56. "We've got so near home, now,' said Mrs. Rush, "that I shall only have time to mention one more curious and beautiful contrivance. Indeed, I did not intend to show you many of them, but rather to persuade you to look for them yourselves. The living world is full of them. Your own bodies might be the study of a long life.

57. "Well, the contrivance that I mean to close with is a simple bird's nest. The young bird has been reared in a nest. But it has never seen one made, and cannot know whether its mother found hers ready made, or formed it of itself. In fact, it has not the slightest chance of seeing the operation, until the very moment when it must set to work. And yet it does begin, and makes it as perfect as if it had been for years under the tuition of the most skilful artist. Again.. Does the yearling bird know why it is building? Does it know that it has within its body half-formed eggs, an article which it has never seen, and consequently cannot form the least idea of, and that its young will be hatched from these eggs, if a soft nest should be prepared, and it should preserve their vital heat by sitting on them for a proper time? How can the bird know all this, and how can it acquire the skill to execute so beautiful a piece of work? It is evidently impossible. The knowledge of the use to

which the nest is to be applied, and the knowledge of the art by which it is built, is not in the bird, but in that GREAT ARTIST who made all things."

Repeat the substance of this lesson. Can man make anything? What, then, can he do? Who is the Maker of all things? How do we know that there is a God? What is remarkable about leaves? For what purpose are they placed in beds of down, and covered with scales? What is remarkable about animals with hairy coverings? Could man or the animal itself furnish it with clothing comparable to this? Can you stop your pulse, or make it go faster or slower? What is remarkable about birds' nests? Did a yearling bird ever see a nest built? Who teaches the bird to build its nest? Can the yearling bird know why it builds? Does it, or does it not, know it is about to lay eggs? When it sits on them, does it know, or not, that they contain its young? If this knowledge and foresight is not in the bird, in whom is it? What does the Bible say on this subject? "Who teacheth us more than the beasts of the earth, and maketh us wiser than the fowls of heaven?" Job xxxv. 11, or Job xxxviii. 25, 27, 41; and xxxix. 13.

LESSON XXVI.

Punctuality, Selfishness, and Benevolence.

1. "WHY, Helen, ain't you ready yet?" said Grace Somerville to her younger sister. "You know we ought to have been at uncle Darling's at one o'clock. It is ten minutes after one now, and yet you have not finished dressing."

2. Oh, we shall be there soon enough, I dare say," said Helen. "Don't you re