they had again entered the green lane, from which they had departed to pursue the path across the meadow; and having gone over the stile by the village church, they entered the orchard through which Charles and John had expected such a pleasant walk.

I do not wonder at their wishing to go home that way, for the trees were all so full of beautiful pink and white blossoms, and the birds sang so sweetly as they hopped from twig to twig, or fluttered on the branches, that you could not have been there without rejoicing with them.

It was not long before Mr. Fulton invited the attention of his scholars to a little apple tree, on every twig of which were buds and blossoms. The two little boys, on seeing it, cried out together, "O, what a beautiful tree!" to which their teacher replied by saying, "And I hope you will be like it." This remark surprised them both, especially little Charles, who looked at his teacher as if he would inquire, "How can I be like this tree?" He was not kept long waiting, however, for Mr. Fulton, observing his astonishment, explained himself by saying, "I wish that, as this little tree has so early put forth blossoms, so you both, my dear boys, may begin, while young, to show that you are His, who said, 'I love them that love me, and those who seek me early shall find me.'" Prov. viii. 17.

As they walked onward, the grass beneath the trees was strewed in some places with blossoms, which the recent thunder-storm had broken off; and whilst the little boys stooped to pick up some of them, exclaiming, "What a pity! what a pity!" their teacher availed himself of that opportunity, also, to teach them a lesson. "It is a pity," said he; "for each of them might have become a fine rosy apple; but they will not have fallen off in vain, if we learn this truth from the circumstance, that death sometimes calls away those who have scarcely yet begun to live to God. But it is cheering to see a young tree promising to be fruitful; and it is much more pleasing to see young persons likely to bear the fruits of wisdom and goodness."

"I remember, sir," said John, "that last year our pear tree was full of blossoms; but father said the blight had killed them." "Yes, my dear boy," said Mr. Fulton, "storms, and tempests, and blights also frequently disappoint our fondest expectations: so also there are moral blights, as I have sometimes told you in the class at school. You both remember poor George King, the orphan boy; how well he said his lessons, and how serious and attentive he was; but when his pious mother died, he fell into bad company, and is now a sad evidence that those who associate with the wicked have turned their backs upon the ways of God. O, then, flee from bad people, bad books, and bad scenes, as from that which will blight the best interests of your souls."

Their teacher had never had such a happy opportunity of conversing with them until now, and as they both seemed to look upon the trees around them as so many objects from which instruction might be gathered, he proceeded to point out a circumstance which had before escaped their notice; it was this, that where the branches had been sheltered from the passing tempest, there all the blossoms were unhurt. "Now," said Mr. Fulton to his young companions, "while thinking of our Saviour's language in this day's lesson, 'I am the Vine, ye are the branches,' we may learn not only that the life of our souls must be drawn from him, but that if we bring any fruit to perfection, it is the result of his most gracious and protecting care."

At this moment, Mr.