one towards Pierre. As Pierre did not hurry to take it, "O, pshaw! so you refuse? I did not refuse half of your bread when I did not have any myself." This recollection seemed to decide Pierre; and yet he seemed to feel a hesitation that he could not put into words. "What beautiful things!" at last exclaimed Pierrette, coming out of her mute contemplation. "Who has given them to you, Jacquot?" "Yes, who gave them to you?" echoed Pierre. "Who? Good luck, chance, as you please to call it. I was in the Rue des Lombards, looking at the stores, and I wished a Happy New Year' to all who entered and went out; for, I said to myself, these people have the purse and the pocket full, and it is no more than just that they give me a little of that of which they have so much. But some did not listen to me; others said that they were in too great a hurry, that I must wait till another time; others that they had no money, and that when I had just seen them give and receive in exchange of their handsome pieces of hundred sous. A tall gentleman treated me worse. 'Go away, little vagabond; go to I work!' said he to me; and he pushed me rudely out of his way. I was angry; I followed him. He had hard work to open a way for himself in the crowd, so swelled was he with all the candies that he carried. He had all his pockets stuffed with them; those in the front of his cloak, those at the sides, and those in his overcoat, all over; from a bag half come out hung beautiful ribbons, rose-colored and blue. In turning a corner a carriage had upset; the crowd gathered around it. The big gentleman pushed, pressed, blustered; and I, I pushed him, for my part. I was quite near him; in a motion that he made the bag came wholly out of his pocket, and "And then?" said Pierre. "It fell?" said Pierrette. "Just so,” replied Jacquot; "that is to say, I did not give it time to reach the ground; I - caught it on the way." "And the gentleman?" asked Pierrette. "O, the gentleman, he kept right ahead." "But you ought to have called him, to give Shim back his bag." "Yes; what simpletons! He had enough with the rest, my soul! I might well keep that for my share." "That was wrong," said Pierre. "Wrong, wrong! there you are again, you, with your big words for little things. Suppose the bag had fallen altogether; would not the first comer have picked it up?" “But you, you knew to whom it belonged,” replied Pierrette. "And that was one reason more for keeping it," said Jacquot; "because the owner of the bag had treated me rudely, and I was angry at him for it." "Never mind what you say, Jacquot; what is wrong is wrong," said Pierre. Pierrette pushed away the candies quite gently, which were spread out before her. "You must always find fault," said Jacquot; "why do you not become a preacher? You could preach all at your ease. If a comrade proposes something for your benefit, you have always thirty-six reasons against it to give him. You see, Pierre, he who tries to be wiser than all the rest is half fool." "And he who does as others do, without considering what is good or bad, and without taking advice of his conscience, is worse than a fool," said Pierre. "Do you pretend to dictate to me, to tyrannize over me?" "I, I tyrannize over no one." "I should think you do. I dare say it isn't you that hinders Pierrette from eating those candies, which a while ago pleased her so much!" "O, no, it is not he," said Pierrette, quickly. "Well, who is it, then? Why do you not eat them?" Pierrette hesitated a little; then she said, "Because they are not mine." "But when I give them to you?" "The little girl still hesitated, looked at her brother, and said, - They are not yours either." "Look at the little affected lady. Get away! You are nothing but idiots, with your scruples. Just look where all these fine sayings have brought you; never to have a penny, and to eat black bread, with two pennies' worth of cheese, on New Year's Day." Pierre lifted his head proudly, and Pierrette bit in the piece of black bread that she had laid aside to look at the beautiful candies and the golden envelopes. "Yes, yes, show your pride," continued Jacquot, "that will profit you. But I don't know why I waste my time here, instead of going to the spectacle at the Luxembourg, where my comrades expect me. Ah! you turn up your noses at my candies. I will find some one who is not so particular; and you, you will bite your fingers for the insult you have given me." He picked up the candies, put them into the bag, and went off whistling. Pierrette was all confused. "We have made him angry," said she, when he was a little way off. this is just the opposite from the customary course. It is the usual way to make pictures "Better make him angry than to have done to illustrate scenes in the story or article; but what we know to be wrong." "It was good of him, though," said Pierrette, "to wish to give us half of what he found." Pierre shook his head. "I fear very much that he has not found it. Besides, you must know, Pierrette, that it is not only the wicked that do wrong; there are weak ones who do as they see others do, and who say, 'Why should I not do as the rest?' You see that is just what spoils Jacquot. He is not so bad within, but he sees bad persons, and he imitates them. May God help him to stop in time." "How happy we are that we learned to work early!" said Pierrette. "And to have had a good grandmother, who taught us to pray to God, to love him, and to do what is right, cost what it may." "Ah! when shall we see her again?" exclaimed Pierrette. "Who knows? Perhaps sooner than we think," said Pierre. Chatting thus, hand in hand the children arrived at their lodgings. After having prayed God together to give them strength and work, they quietly fell asleep. Is [TO BE CONTINUED.] CHARLES DICKENS. [SEE FULL-PAGE PICTURE.] Dickens's genius was roused, and suddenly the literary world was astonished and delighted with "The Pickwick Papers," a series of sketches connected, and yet susceptible of being read separately with pleasure, and which to-day are as popular as ever, and are even reckoned by many good judges as equal to anything he wrote in maturer years. Then followed, in rapid succession, story upon story, until the name and fame of Dickens were world wide. He wrote charmingly for children, and our young friends will find among his works beautiful stories adapted to their tastes and years. We have not space to enumerate all the books written by him; but, if our readers will write to Fields, Osgood & Co., of this city, who are his only authorized publishers in this country, they will send lists of their different editions, with the number of volumes and the prices, and with this list it will be easy to make a selection. The prices of some of these editions are so very low that almost any family can own a complete set of Dickens's works, and thus have an inexhaustible source of pleasure and profit for the family circle. Lee & Shepard, who help the editor to make Oliver Optic's Magazine what it is, also publish a volume of "Dialogues from Dickens," which will be found very entertaining for exhibitions, parlor dramas, and family amusement. 'S there one of our readers who has not Doubtless some of our readers saw Mr. Dickens when he was in this country two years ago, and all heard of him. He came to read to us some of the best things he had written, and he gave delight to thousands all over the land. No one who heard him will ever forget how faithfully he represented the different characters in his inimitable stories, how he made each one a living reality to the audience. To please those who did hear Mr. Dickens read, but more especially those who did not, we give a picture which is a striking representation of the great author as he stood by his little table and interpreted and illustrated the masterpieces of his genius. We are indebted to Fields, Osgood & Co. for the picture, and we know our readers will be pleased with it. It represents him exactly as he gave his last reading, and it will be a grati In Every Saturday, that beautiful illustrated paper, published by Fields, Osgood & Co., can be found "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," the work upon which Mr. Dickens was engaged at the time of his death. It is issued by special arrangement with Mr. Dickens and his English publishers, and is in advance of any other American reprints. In the papers of the day the boys and girls will see long accounts of Mr. Dickens, his life and his writings, and it is needless that we extend this sketch; but we can all apply to him the prayer he puts into the mouth of one of his characters: "Lord, keep my memory green." THE THISTLE AND THE FERN. BY ANNIE MOORE. seems to me you are rather delicate," “IT said a stout thistle to her neighbor, a fern. "Yes, I am called the Lady Fern," said she. "It's because you ripen all your seeds on the back of your leaves that you are so delicate," said the thistle. "If you would ripen them on a strong stem as I do, you'd be the better for it, I'll warrant." "I shouldn't know how to begin," replied the fern. "It's easy enough," said the thistle; "just send up a stem O, here comes that rascal of a donkey," said she, bristling with thorns on every side. "No one wounds me with impunity,' is my motto." "I know it, ma'am," said the donkey; "but it never yet prevented me from helping myself;" and he bit off her handsomest flower as he passed. "Was ever any one troubled as I am!" cried the thistle; "I never have a perfect flower, but that miserable fellow comes and snaps it off. What can I do?" The pale moonlight streamed across the grass, but not a fairy could be seen. "They were there when I first called you," said the fern. "Ah, indeed!" said the thistle, incredulously, as she returned to her slumbers. By and by the fern woke again, and there were the fairies on the green. This time there was no doubt of it. There was the queen with her white wings, and the king with a fern-plume in his cap. "Neighbor, be quick!" said the fern; "here they are!" "Did you speak to me?" said the thistle. "Perhaps the fairies will help you," said the brook," said the fern. the fern; "they take care of me." “Where?” said the thistle, opening her "I don't believe in fairies," replied the sleepy eyes. thistle. "O, they are gone again," said the fern. "Why, didn't you see them dancing last "What a pity!" night?" asked the fern, in surprise. "Indeed I didn't," replied the thistle. "How strange!" said the fern; I saw them dancing in the moonlight just across the brook. The queen was there with her white wings." "Madam," cried the thistle, in a rage, "I'll thank you not to rouse me again tonight. I never did believe in fairies. You are worse than the donkey, I declare!" and she again composed herself to rest. "I beg your pardon," said the fern; "I am Good night. I'll not disturb you again." "I didn't see them," said the thistle; "part- very sorry, for I really wanted to help you. ly because I was asleep, I suppose." "If they come to-night, I'll speak to you, if you like," said the fern. "What could they do for me?" asked the thistle. ANAXAGORAS the philosopher taught that the sun was a mass of burning iron, ✔ "Perhaps they would give you the power greater than the Peloponnesus. Ralph. Time enough, Charley. Charley. Certainly. But I know John Ray hasn't employed it. Yesterday noon he went boating; last night I'm afraid he visited Hopkins's melon patch; and this morning I saw him from my window playing ball. Ralph. Then we've not much to fear from him; but here he is, puffing like a porpoise. Enter JOHN RAY, L., with a book. John. Hallo, boys! what's the time? Charley. Eighteen minutes of nine. All ready for the declamation? John. Not yet; there's time enough. Ralph. Time enough! What have you selected? John. "Tell's Address." I'm going to pitch. into it now. I can do it in eighteen minutes. Charley. Why, you haven't left it till now? John. Of course I have. Time enough, I tell you. I've got a locomotive memory, you know. None of your slow coaches. I shall only have to read it over two or three times. Ralph. But why didn't you take it up before? somewhere Enter CHARLEY CHEERFUL, L. Charley. (Clapping his hands.) Bravo! Bravo! Spartacus. "They do well to call John. What's the use? I went boating yesyou chief!" number one in arithmetic, his-terday; and last night I went tory, and geography; and to-day I've no doubt we shall call you number one in declamation. Ralph. Ah, Charley, glad to see you. Are you all ready for the contest? Charley. Yes, Ralph. (Declaims.) "Again to the battle, Achaians; Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance." * Ralph. I see; "a foeman worthy of my steel." Well, Charley, good luck to you. Charley. The same to you. I believe we are about equally matched. I want to take the highest mark, but if I am to be defeated, there's no one to whom I'd sooner surrender the "victor's laurels" than to you. Ralph. And I can heartily say the same of you; but we must both look out. John Ray told the boys yesterday he was bound to have the highest mark. Charley. I don't fear him. Ralph. But he's a good declaimer, Charley. Charley. I'll acknowledge that; but you know he's a terrible fellow for putting off study until the last moment. It was only yesterday morning Master Jones decided to have declamation to-day. The only time we had to prepare was yesterday noon, last night, and this morning. The dialogue can be lengthened, if necessary, by allowing Charley and Ralph to declaim the whole of their pieces. else. Charley. Yes; you took a meloncholy walk. Hey, John? John. What do you mean by that? Charley. No matter. You'd better study Tell's Address, if you expect to be ready by nine o'clock. John. So I had. Well, you run along and let me have this place to myself. It's a quiet place. So good by. I'll see you at nine o'clock, with Tell's Address perfect. Charley. Well, good luck to you. Come, Ralph. Ralph. I say, Ray; what's the proverb about "the thief of time"? John. Who do you call a thief? Ralph. A slow coach, that will rob you of your laurels spite of your locomotive memory. Come along, Charley. [Exeunt CHArley and RalPH, R. John. Now, who told them I was after melons last night? (Opens book.) "Tell's Address." Won't I astonish those lads! What's the use of wasting time in study before it's needed? (Reads.) "Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!" Enter MR. HANKS, L. Mr. Hanks. Look here, boy; where's Mr. Simmons's house? John. O, bother! Over by the mill. John. Over by the mill. Mr. H. Over that hill? Good gracious! You don't mean I've got to travel as far as that, do you, in the hot sun? John. No, no; it's only a little ways. Mr. H. Only a little blaze! It's an awful hot morning. John. O, dear! this old fellow is as deaf as a post. (Very loud.) Mr. Simmons lives down-by-the-mill. Mr. H. O, yes. Thank you, thank you. and if you don't clear out and leave me in I'm a little hard of hearing. Mr. H. Old buffer, indeed! Be more respectful to your elders, young man; more respectful. [Exit, R. John. I've got rid of him at last, and five minutes gone. O, dear! (Reads.) "Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!" Enter MR. HANKS, R. Mr. H. Did you say right, or left? To peace, I shall never get it. Clod. Sho! Well, I don't want to hender ye, but I should like to know what's become of that are keow. [Exit, R. John. Gone at last. Was ever a fellow so plagued! I've only got eight minutes, and I must study. (Goes to back of stage, and walks up and down, studying.) Enter PATSY FLINN, L. Patsy. Begorra, it's a foine irrant I's on ony way. It's all along iv thim watthermillons, bad luck to 'em! Slaping swately on my bid last night thinking uv the bould b’ys that fit, blid, and run away from Canady, I heerd a v'ice in the millon patch, "Here's a a bouncer, b'ys." Faix, didn't I lept out uv that bid, and didn't I hurry on my clo'es, and didn't I take a big shtick, and didn't I run fur stream as it the patch, and didn't I find nobody? To be sure I did! So this morning, Mr. Hopkins sinds me to the school-house to find the b'ys that invadid the sacred retrait, which is the millon-patch. But how will I find thim? Begorra, I should know that v’ice; and I'll make the whole school shtand up togither one by one and shout, "Here's a bouncer!" that I will. Mr. H. Follow my nose! pudent scamp! I'll ask you tions. You're an im- This comes of John. I hope you won't. trying to do a good-natured that address! (Reads.) "Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!" Enter JOHN CLOD, L. John. (Coming down right of stage.) Now let's see how much I know. (Declaims.) Clod. I say, sonny; yer hain't seen nothin'"Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once of a keow, have yer, here or hereabouts? again!" |