FLORENCE.

LORENCE is the capital city of the recently established kingdom of Italy. It is situated one hundred and forty five-miles northwest of Rome, in the valley of the Arno, which river runs through it. It is surrounded by walls in which are eight gates. Beyond the walls there are many beautiful gardens and villas. The population of the

city, which in 1862 was 110,000, is prob ably now considerably more than that number. It contains many churches and other edifices of great beauty, and numerous charitable and educational institutions. The climate is said to be healthy, and the city is much resorted to by strangers.

Florence is a city of great antiquity, dating from the reign of Octavianus. Christianity claims to have been established there in the third century; in A. D. 313, Felix, bishop of Florence attended a council at Rome. In common with the rest of Europe, Florence fell under the influence of Popery; the great majority of its citizens are still the professed adherents of that corrupt form of Christianity.

The city has undergone many political revolutions. A few years ago it was under the sway of the Grand Duke of Tuscany; when, however, Victor Emmanuel and Louis Napoleon had expelled the Austrian armies from Italy, the Grand Duke, in common with other petty princes, was compelled to leave his former dominions, and Florence became incorporated with the Italian kingdom. When Louis Napoleon, urged by the Italian Government and the public opinion of Europe, consented to withdraw his soldiers from Rome, he stipulated that Florence should become the capital of Italy. This being agreed to, Victor Emmanuel, his Government, and Parliament, removed from Turin and estab

lished themselves in Florence. This arrangement, however, is probably only temporary; the Italian people will never be content until the Pope ceases to be a temporal prince, and Rome becomes the capital of united Italy. An insurrection is now progressing in the Papal States, which may, possibly, end in this.

assigned him.

66

"LITTLE FRED."

HE school-room door opened, and the new scholar came in, shrinking and trembling under the gaze the large and small boys fastened upon him. He was thin and pale; his eyes looked faded with crying, and tears seemed ready to start out at any moment. His hair was thin and light; and he clutched nervously the book he held in his hand as he shrank into the place

Boys! boys! look at me-pay attention to your lesson," said the teacher, authoritatively; for all were looking at the new scholar, who seemed to grow thinner, paler, and more nervous, and kept his eyes bent upon the floor.

"Oh! oh!" exclaimed he, involuntarily giving a little cry of pain; for Bamber, a great booby of a boy on his right, had stuck a pin in the jacket sleeve of the new scholar, and the unexpected pain made him start, and the ready tears came into his red eyes.

"Bamber! Bamber!" cried his teacher, "you cruel fellow change your place, sir, and play no more such low tricks!" Bamber grinned at his own fun, and some of the boys grinned with him; but he obeyed his master, and little Fred was left quiet, holding his book uneasily, and looking on the floor so timidly that the teacher skipped over his part

of the lesson for that day. But a harder fate was in store for Fred, the new scholar. He went out with the rest of the boys on the play-ground, but sat alone, apart from their noisy sports. He was not left long in solitude; for some of them gathered around him, asking numberless questions, and insisting upon his joining in games he had never heard of before, and using language strange and new to his ears. "Can you jump high ?" asked one. “Can you walk my | lady walk?” said another. “How many marbles did you bring?" asked a third of the little group that surrounded the bewildered child.

“Come, youngster, Master Snifler,” said Bamber, joining them, let's see how far you can run, or may be you can climb better;" and he seized Fred's cap and made a motion as if to throw it up in the boughs of the tree.

“Oh, please, don't! Please give me back my cap,” implored the little boy, with tears.

“Pshaw, Snifler, then you don't know how to climb; you must know how to run; see, I'll throw your cap over there, and you must catch it while I count ten; and if you don't catch it in that time, why, you must tumble two somersets head over heels, do you hear?”

"Indeed, indeed, I can't," said Fred.

"Indeed, indeed, you can then, and will," returned Bamber, mockingly. "Now, then, Snifler, up and be gone, while I throw it; here goes-one-two, start, I tell you;" and Fred, in an agony of fear, started, and just as he touched his hat it was snatched away by Bamber, who had reached it when he did.

"Now, again, back while I count five,” he exclaimed, tossing the cap far away from him, and commencing to count as Fred started off for it again. He was crying now, fast. "Oh mamma,! mamma," he said softly to himself.

"Look at the crybaby," shouted a little boy. "He wants his mamma, does he? asked Bamber, coming up to him. But he's got legs and knows how to use them, if they are

broomsticks; now we'll see how well he can climb; here cap, for another trip," and Bamber sent the cap high up in the branches of the tree overhead; but the sport was over; for one of the teachers coming by, dislodged the cap, put it on the head of the trembling boy, and led him from the play-ground.

66

That night, when each boy had gone to his separate bed, Snifler," as the boys always called him after that day, sat up and cried; the tears, that he had been trying to rub in with his knuckles all of that miserable day, now flowed free and fast, and as he thought of his dead mother, who had been sleeping in the grave just one month, he wished he was lying still and cold by her side; for he felt that all would be peace and rest there, for when she died he was left alone in the world, and those who had charge of him decided that a boarding-school would be the best place for the delicate, pining, lonely child. His own heart and his Father in Heaven alone knew how he longed, every hour of every day, for one sight of his mother's face, for one sound of her beloved voice. He sat up in bed and cried; he tried to smother his sobs, so that his companions should not hear him, and call him "Snifler;" until it seemed as if no more tears could come, and he fell into a happy slumber-happy, because all consciousness of present misery was lost-and in dreams he often saw again his lost mother.

Little Fred did not become accustomed to his school-life, nor did his home-sickness wear away. Boys often love to tyrannize over their smaller companions, and Bamber was one of this class; he was a bully-a weak, cruel-minded, big, strong boy; he was proud of his strength; all of the little boys were afraid of him; for he delighted in tormenting them, and never omitted an opportunity of kicking, punching, and tyrannizing over little "Snifler." One day Fred was summoned to the master's private room, and while he was waiting there, Bamber happened to pass by, and seeing the door partly opened poked his head in.