t deal of money, George; you had better ask
your mother, first." As George's mother lived very near the church, he
went home immediately, and said, "Mother, will you let me have my guinea
to give to the mission." George's mother saw that he was very much
interested for the heathen children, and says to him, "supposing you
give half of it." "No," said George, "I want to give it all."

"Well, my dear, you will remember you cannot give it and have it too."
She then gave him a one pound note, and a shilling. But George said he
would rather have a guinea. "Why," said his mother, "what difference can
it make? it is just the same amount." "Yes," said George, "but that one
pound will seem so much for a little boy to give. If I had a guinea, I
could put it in between two half-pence and nobody would know any thing
about it." His mother was pleased with his proposal, and George having
got his guinea returned to the church and put it in the box as he
intended.

Little George is now dead, and there is no danger of his being puffed up
by what he has done. You may learn from this act of George, how to do
some good to poor heathen children. You should be willing to deny
yourselves some pleasures in order that you may benefit others. And if
you do good out of a pure motive you will be blessed in the deed.

THE JEW AND HIS DAUGHTER.

A Jew came to this country from London, many years ago, and brought with
him all his property. He had a lovely daughter of seventeen; with her he
settled in a charming retreat on the fruitful banks of the Ohio, in the
Western part of Virginia. He had buried his wife before he left Europe,
and he knew no comfort but the company of his beloved daughter. She
possessed an amiable disposition, and was well educated; she could
speak several languages, and her manners pleased all who knew her. Being
a Jew, he brought up his daughter in the strictest principles of his
faith.

It was not long after that his daughter was taken sick. The rose faded
from her cheek, her strength failed, and it was certain that she could
not live long. Her father was deeply affected. He tried to talk with
her, but could seldom speak without weeping. He spared no expense to
have her get well. One day he was walking in the wood near his house
when he was sent for by his dying daughter. With a heavy heart he
entered the door of her room, and he saw that he was now to take the
last farewell of his daughter.

"My father," said t