"Brave," said another. "Learned," added a third boy. "Please, sir," piped forth a pale-faced, neatly dressed lad; "he was a gentleman!" "A gentleman!" asked the examiner. "How do you make that out?" The boy promptly replied, in the same thin, nervous voice,--"Please, sir, when the daughters of Jethro went to the well to draw water, the shepherds came and drove them away; and Moses helped the daughters of Jethro, and said to the shepherds,--'Ladies first, please, gentlemen.'" TIME FOR BED. Ding-dong! ding-dong! The bells are ringing for bed, Johnnie-- The bells are ringing for bed. I see them swing, I hear them ring, And I see you nod your head. The bells are ringing for bed, Johnnie-- They are ringing soft and slow; And while they ring, And while they swing, It's off to bed we'll go. THE VALUE OF A GOOD NAME. Samuel Appleton, a distinguished Boston merchant, was once sued for a note, found among the papers of a deceased merchant tailor, and signed with his name. The handwriting was exactly like his own, but he declared it to be a forgery, albeit his own brother said he could not positively say it was not Mr. Appleton's writing, though he believed it could not be genuine. The Judge was against Mr. Appleton, but the jury found a verdict in his favor, because they were confident that nothing could induce him to dispute the payment of a note unless certain that he did not owe it. Some years later Mr. Appleton discovered proof that the actual signer of the note was a ship-master of the same name, who had been dead many years. Thus, the finding of the jury was justified. It was based on his good reputation and it illustrates the truth of the proverb, which says: "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches." The root of Mr. Appleton's good name was his good conduct. He was honest and honorable in all things. DINGFORD'S BABY. That little brother of Hetty Dingford was the funniest baby on the coast; and there were a good many of them, right around the river mouth. Flora thought so too, or rather she looked upon him in the light of a puppy, as she had just raised a small family herself, and the baby had associated so much with the little dogs, that she thought she owned him too. She seemed to regard him as her especial charge, and used to rush between him and cattle on the roads, and bark away strollers from the door-yard; but she seemed to love it most on the beach. Whenever she thought of it, she would leave the other children, in whose charge the baby had been placed, and rush up to the little one, and lick its face all over, and bark with a very funny sound. The baby would pick up a handful of gravel and throw it at the dog, but it never hit him, and then they would both laugh together.