The little workers were desperate, for they knew that, should the house burn, their poor mother would surely perish in her bed. They fought with brooms, shovels, and water. Wherever they could they dug up fresh earth, and for a quarter of an hour they did not pause for a single moment. Once the house caught, and the wood began to add its crackling to the rush and roar of the vast prairie fire; but the children dashed bucket after bucket of water upon the burning spot, and so put it out. They carried the day. The great fire swept past, and in its wake came the father, half frantic with joy to find that his little hero and heroine had saved their mother's life.--_Examiner._ A HINT TO BOYS. If I were a boy again, and knew what I know now, I would not be quite so positive in my own opinions as I used to be. Boys generally think that they are very certain about many things. A boy of fifteen is a great deal more sure of what he thinks he knows than is a man of fifty. You ask the boy a question, and he will answer you right off, up and down. He knows all about it. Ask a man of large experience and ripe wisdom the same question, and he will say, "Well, there is much to be said about it. I am inclined, on the whole, to think so-and-so, but other intelligent men think otherwise." When I was about eight years old, I travelled from Central Massachusetts to Western New York, crossing the river at Albany, and going by canal to Syracuse. On the canal-boat a kindly gentleman was talking to me one day, and I mentioned the fact that I had crossed the Connecticut River at Albany. How I got it into my head that it was the Connecticut River I do not know, for I knew my geography very well then; but in some unmistakable way I fixed it in my mind that the river at Albany was the Connecticut, and I called it so. "Why," said the gentleman, "that is the Hudson River." "Oh, no, sir," I replied, politely but firmly. "You're mistaken. That is the Connecticut River." The gentleman smiled and said no more. In this matter I was perfectly sure that I was right, and so I thought it my duty to correct the gentleman's geography. I felt rather sorry for him that he should be so ignorant. One day, a short time after I reached home, I happened to be looking over my route on the map, and lo! there was Albany standing on the Hudson River, a hundred miles from the Connecticut. Then I did not feel half so sorry for the gentleman's ignorance as I did for my own. I never told anybody that story until I wrote it down on these pages the other day, but I have thought of it a thousand times, and always with a blush for my boldness. Nor was it the only time that I was perfectly sure of things that were not really so. It is hard for a boy to learn that he may be mistaken; but, unless he is a dunce, he learns it after a while. The sooner he finds it out the better for him. W. G. DIVINE GUIDANCE.