kind discourse have profited unless the punishment had gone before-that is, speaking as men speak; for you well know, sir, that neither discipline, nor good instruction, prove profitable, unless the blessing of God attends them."

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True," said Mr. Elwyn, "but are not both these means appointed of God? And I do not know that I ever saw an instance in which these means, properly used, were unaccompanied by a blessing.—But go on, my young man, with your tale."

"Well, sir," said Philip Barnes, "so we parted, and I went home to my mother, who, as you said, sir, showed her good sense by not taking my part. Her first words, when she opened the door to me, were, 'So, sir, you have been in the cage; and a very fit place for such as you, who amuse themselves with tearing down other people's fences:-go to bed, there is no supper for you to-night, and I doubt whether you will have much of a breakfast to-morrow.'

"From that time I shunned Roger Wilks as much as I possibly could. The next time, however, that we met was in the street, just opposite his father's stall, and he then said to me, 'Philip, you did not owe much to your heels t'other night, they did not save you from the cage.' Butcher Wilks was in hearing when the boy made this remark, and he directly broke out into violent abuse against informers, meddlers, and tell-tales; adding that 'If such folks would not leave his son alone, he would let them know a spice of his mind.'

"On this, some one who stood by remarked, ‘You are too hot, Butcher Wilks, much too hot.-Is it not better for a lad to be put in a cage for breaking a hedge, than be slung in a halter for robbing the mail, or shooting a traveller on the high road? A slight chastisement in time, followed up by steady exhortation from his father, may save a young rogue from the gallows.'

"Well, all I say,' returned the butcher, whetting his knife on his steel, 'is, let these informers beware of meddling with my son.'

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By this time there was quite a crowd gathered round the shop, and the butcher's wife came out of the inner room to inquire the cause of the bustle. When she had heard it, and learned the danger which her son had been in, of being my partner in the cage, she turned furiously upon me, ordered her son into the inner room, VOL. IV.-R

and calling me many names, bidding me from that time keep my distance, or she would make me feel the weight of her anger. She was very clearly much more vexed with me for not having made my escape from your hands, than for the fault of which I had been guilty together with her son.

“From that time," continued Philip Barnes, "I saw little of Butcher Wilks and his family, and indeed I lost sight of them altogether till a few weeks ago, when chancing to come to town, I heard that poor Roger had been condemned for mail-robbery, and got leave to visit him in prison."

"And I hope," said Mr. Elwyn, "that you tried, as much as in you lay, to lead him to repentance."

"Ah, sir," said Philip, "I was a poor teacher; for though through the blessing of God, I have been led to a knowledge of the salvation through our Redeemer, for fallen man, and have been made in some degree sensible of my own depravity, and of the need of renewing grace-yet, as you well know, sir, it is one thing to have a feeling of these matters in one's own mind, and another to be able to lay them properly before another. However, sir, I knew that I had a friend that would put the words in my mouth in the hour of need. So I visited the unhappy lad continually, and I had some reason to think that the Lord blessed my poor endeavours. However, sir, it was lamentable to hear how bitterly he would deplore the cruel kindness of his father in shielding him when a lad, from punishment, and he would often say, 'Those are the greatest enemies to God and their country, who pass over the petty transgressions of boys, and make a sport of those little mischievous humours, which are the beginning of crime, and which, if long indulged, not unfrequently bring the miserable victim to the gallows.'

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Mr. Elwyn and Philip Barnes were by this time arrived at the door of that gentleman's house. Mr. Elwyn was unwilling to part so speedily with the young man, and invited him in. His conversation pleased him so much that he inquired more concerning him, and after a time, finding him as deserving as he at first bade fair to be, provided him with a situation and employment in his own family.

END OF THE IRON CAGE.

THE LITTLE BEGGARS.

THERE is an old saying, that "Honesty is the best policy;" a saying full of wisdom, and which is verified by every man's experience. But as little children who have not lived long in the world cannot be supposed to understand the weight of this sentiment, I shall relate in this place a certain story with which I became acquainted some time past when travelling in a foreign country.

There is in Germany a range of lofty hills called the Mountains of Hartz: many of these hills are covered with woods,-woods which extend for many miles around, and are in some places so thick with underwood and tangled bushes, that it would be almost im possible for a traveller to make his way through them. In the corner of one of these forests, and about half way up one of the highest hills, stood two cottages, built according to the German fashion, of beams of timber painted black, the intervals being filled with laths and plaster, and the roof supplied with a thick and warm covering of thatch. Each of these houses had a porch which projected forward, and afforded a shelter to several benches placed beneath, in which the family might sit in warm weather, and take their meals or pursue their work.

The smaller of these cottages stood somewhat out from among the trees, and near a spring of fresh and sparkling water, which poured down from the heights above, and failed not in the hottest season to supply the inhabitants of the wood with that refreshment which is most desirable at such periods. The larger cottage was, however, more deeply embosomed in the wood, insomuch that its white walls and black timbers were hardly discoverable from the little path, along which