, my brother.
The angel death, has been our friend,
We come! dear father, mother!"

LOOK UP.

A little boy went to sea with his father to learn to be a sailor. One
day, his father said to him, "Come, my boy, you will never be a sailor
if you don't learn to climb."

The boy was very ambitious, and soon scrambled up to the top of the
rigging; but when he saw at what a height he was he began to be
frightened, and called out, "Oh, father, I shall fall, what shall I do?"

"Look up--look up, my son," said his father; "if you look down you will
be giddy; but if you keep looking up to the flag at the top of the mast
you will descend safely." The boy followed his father's advice, and soon
came down to the deck of the vessel in safety. You may learn from this
story, to look up to Jesus, as the highest example, and as the Saviour
of mankind.

[Illustration]

THE FLOWER THAT LOOKS UP.

"What beautiful things flowers are," said one of the party of little
girls who were arranging the flowers they had gathered in the pleasant
fields. "Which flower would you rather be like, Helen?"

"Just as if there would be any choice," said Laura. "I like the Rose. I
should like to be queen of flowers, or none." Laura was naturally very
proud.

For my part, observed Helen, I should like to resemble the
_Rhododendron_; when any one touches it, or shakes it roughly, it
scatters a shower of honey dew from its roseate cups, teaching us to
shower blessings upon our enemies. Oh, who does not wish to be as meek
as this flower? It is very difficult, I know, said Helen; but we are
taught to possess a meek and lowly spirit.

"It is difficult, I know," said Lucy, "if we trust to our own strength.
It is only when my father looks at me in his kind manner, that I have
any control of myself. What a pity it is that we cannot always remember
that the eye of our Heavenly Father is upon us." "I wish I could," said
Helen.

"Now, Clara, we are waiting for you," said Laura. Clara smiled; and
immediately chose the pale woodbine, or convolvulus, which so carelessly
winds in and out among the bushes--this is an emblem of loving
tenderness.

"Now what says Lucy?" exclaimed Helen.

"I think I can guess," said Clara; "either a violet, or a heart's ease.
Am I right?"

"Not quite," said Lucy, "although both the flowers you have mentioned,
are great favorites of mine. But I think I should like to resemble the
daisy, most, because it