I must say that Farmer Macalpine had a rude and disagreeable way of giving reproof; he did not, as all Christians ought to do, speak the truth in love. His manners and his words were as rough as his hair. We may have no such plain-spoken uncle to remind us of things which we do not care to remember, but it is well for all who have been brought up by parents or friends in comfortable homes, all who have been fed and clothed year after year by the kindness of others, to ask themselves what return they are making for all that they have received. I fear that Steenie Steers is not the only boy who deserves the name of "a very useless puppy," and who might, if he would, learn a lesson from Trusty, the old shepherd's dog. What Bird Would You Be? "A NEW game for a rainy day!" cried Clara, clapping her hands to command silence amongst the merry little group of children who, tired of active romps, now clustered around her. "It must be a quiet one, for the little ones are out of breath with Blindman's Buff, and Sophy, I see, is fanning herself on the sofa. Here, Tom and Felix, draw in chairs to form a circle; the two footstools will do nicely for Jessie and Minnie—little seats will suit little people. Tall Phil, you may perch on the music-stool, and look down on us all, if you like it." The circle of children was soon formed, all waiting till Clara should tell them how to begin their new game. Clara took a rich red rose from a vase which stood near. "I am going to ask a question," said she, "and to the one who shall offer the best reason for his or her answer, the rose shall be given as a prize." Tom, a merry rosy-cheeked boy, laughed as he stooped and whispered to his next neighbour, Annie. "If the rose were to be won by giving a long jump, or a hard pull, or a good knockdown blow, I'd have a chance," said he; "but you could wring out butter from a broom-stick sooner than a rhyme or a reason from me." "Let's hear the question," cried Phil. "If you were to be changed into a bird, what bird would you choose to become?" asked Clara. "An eagle," shouted out Master Tom. "Your reason?" inquired the young lady. "Well," drawled out the boy, "suppose because he is the biggest and strongest of birds, and able to whack all the rest." "The eagle is neither the biggest nor the strongest of birds," cried Phil. "The ostrich, condor, and albatross are all larger, and some more powerful than the eagle." Tom shrugged his shoulders and shook his head; had he not been fonder of boxing than of books, he might have said that the huge condor, being a vulture, is of the same order, and therefore may be called first cousin to the eagle. "Jessie, dear, what would you be?" asked Clara of the smallest child in the room. "I'd be a hummingbird," lisped Jessie, "'cause it's the prettiest of all 'ittle birds."