an anecdote about Mrs. Hannah More, when she was eighty years old. A widow and her little boy paid a visit to Mrs. More, at Barley Wood. When they were about to leave, Mrs. M. stooped to kiss the little boy, not as a mere compliment, as old maids usually kiss children, but she took his smiling face between her two hands, and looked upon it a moment as a mother would, then kissed it fondly more than once. "Now when you are a man, my child, will you remember me?" The little boy had just been eating some cake which she gave him, and he, instead of giving her any answer, glanced his eyes on the remnants of the cake which lay on the table. "Well," said Mrs. M.,     "you will remember the cake at Barley Wood, wont you?" "Yes," said the boy, "It was nice cake, and you are so kind that I will remember both." "That is right," she replied, "I like to have the young remember me for being kin—then you will remember old Mrs. Hannah More?" 

     "Always, ma'am, I'll try to remember you always." "What a good child"     said she, after his mother was gone, "and of good stock; that child will be as true as steel. It was so much more natural that the child should remember the cake than an old woman, that I love his sincerity." She died on the 7th of Sept., 1833, aged eighty-eight. She     was buried in Wrighton churchyard, beneath an old tree which is still flourishing. 

 

     BENNY'S FIRST DRAWING. 

     You have perhaps heard of Benjamin West, the celebrated artist. I will tell you about his first effort in drawing. 

     One of his sisters who had been married some time, came with her babe to spend a few days at her father's. When the child was asleep in the cradle, Mrs. West invited her daughter to gather flowers in the garden, and told Benjamin to take care of the little child while they were gone; and gave him a fan to flap away the flies from his little charge. After some time the child appeared to smile in its sleep, and it attracted young Benney's attention, he was so pleased with the smiling, sleeping babe, that he thought he would see what he could do at drawing a portrait of it. He was only in his seventh year; he got some paper, pens, and some red and black ink, and commenced his work, and soon drew the picture of the babe. 

     Hearing his mother and sister coming in from the garden, he hid his picture; but his mother seeing he was confused; asked him what he 

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