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GEORGE'S BOAT.

THE LITTLE CARPENTER.

The picture of the little boy on the opposite page is from a photograph from life: so you may look on it as on a real likeness of some one in England. I do not know his name; but I think he must be some one whose parents have fitted up a little carpenter's shop for him, so that he may learn to do something useful.

The picture reminds me of a true story. About sixty years ago, there was a rich man in Germany, of the name of Reinhold, who had seen so much of the changes of life, that he resolved that each of his children, both boys and girls, should learn some useful trade or profession.

Rudolf, the eldest boy, learned to be a carpenter. But, when he was twenty-one years of age, he came into the possession of a large fortune. He married, and thought that he had so much money that he could never spend it all.

But, before he was fifty years of age, the whole of his large possessions had melted away. Some of his stately houses had been burned down; and the insurance-offices had failed. Some men he had trusted had proved dishonest; and many schemes that he had entered upon had turned out badly.

At the age of forty-six, Rudolf Reinhold took up the business of a carpenter, which he had learned between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. He soon became skilful, and turned his attention to building houses in the city of Berlin. So successful was he, that in ten years he was once more a rich man.

One of his daughters had become a dressmaker, and another a music-teacher; and even when, at last, they were once more rich, they always felt glad that their father had made them accomplish themselves in useful pursuits, instead of leading lives of idleness and self-indulgence.

THE LITTLE CARPENTER.

LITTLE MISCHIEF.

X.

Bessie's mother had an aquarium. If you do not know what that is, I will tell you. The Latin word aqua means water; and the name aquarium has been given to a glass case holding water for fishes and for sea-plants.

One day, when the pretty gold-fishes were not swimming about in a very lively manner, Bessie thought it must be because they were cold. "Poor things!" said she, "there is no fire in the room; and the water feels quite chilly. It must be sad to swim about in cold water all day. What can I do for them?"

XI.

Although there was no fire in the room, there was a jug of hot water on the hearth, which Susan had left there a few minutes before.

"How fortunate!" thought Bessie. "Now I can give these poor little fishes a nice hot bath. They will like it, I know. What a kind little girl they will think me!"

So she took the jug, mounted into the arm-chair, and poured the whole jugful of water on the fish. It made them very lively; and Bessie put down the jug, jumped off the chair, and got a stool to stand on to watch the little things through the glass.

XII.

Soon the little fishes grew still; and then, one by one, they rose to the surface, and turned over upon their backs. Bessie had never seen them do that before; and she began to feel a little frightened. She wished they would move their fins, and begin to swim again; but they did not: they lay quite still.

At last she put in her hand, and drew one out of the water, so that she might look at it closer. Then she could no longer doubt what was the matter with it. The poor fish was quite dead,—cooked, in fact. Bessie burst out crying, and sobbed as if her heart would break.