6ilt fainitg eiTt4.
SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR,
Old Time has turned another page •
Of eternity and truth
He reads with a warning voice of age,
And whispers a lesson to youth.
A year has fled o'er heart and head
Since last the yule log burnt;
And we have a task to closely ask,
What the bosom and brain have learnt?
Ohl let us hope that our sands have run
With wisdom's precious grains ;
Oh I may we find that our hands have done
Some work of glorious pains.
Then a welcome and cheer's the merry new
year,
While the holly gleams above us ;
With a pardon for the foes who hate,
And a prayer for. those who love us.
We may have seen some loved ones pass
To the land of hallowed rest; •
We may miss the glow of an honest-brow ,
And the warmth of a friendly breast :
But if we nursed them while on earth,
With hearts all true and kind,
Will their spirits blame the sinless mirth
Of those true hearts left behind?
No- no! it were not well or wise
To mourn with endless pain ;
_There's a better
good
beyond the skies,
Where the good shall meet again. .
Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new
year,
While the holly gleams above us ;
With a pardon for the foes who hate,
And aprayer for those who love us.
Have our days rolled on serenely free
From sorrow's dim alloy?
Do we still possess the gifts that bless
And our souls with joy?
Are the creatures dear still clinging near ?
Do we hear loved voices come?
Do we gaze on eyes whose glances shed
A halo round our home?
Oh, if we do, let thanks be poured
To Himwgho bath spared and given,
Anirfort o'er the festive board
I:l44:t.fgei-held from Heaven.
TheittArwelipibe';and cheer to the merry new
While the holly gleams above us
With a pardon for the foes who hate,
And a prayer for those who love us.
—Eclectic Magazine.
FOR THE STRICKEN.
0 wistful eyes! that will not cease
From gazing sadly after one
Who went out in the dark alone,
Although we say, "He is at peace!"
O hearts! that will not turn away,
But questioning stand without the door;
He passeth through it never more,
For he hath reached the perfect day !
Even when we thought him most our own,
His crown was nearest to his brow ; .
And he redeemed his early vow,
And passed, with all his armor on.
He turned to clasp a shadowy hand,
Unreal to our duller eyes ;
He saw the gleams of Paradise
Break through the darkness of the land
His gain exceedeth all our loss;
We linger on these barren sands,—
He is a dweller in the lands
Bequeathed the soldiers of the cross!
—ldylls of Battle
A. TIGER STORY,
Lucy and Fanny were two little
girls, who lived with their . papa and
mamma in London. WheilL Lucy was
six and Fanny five years old, their
uncle George came home from India.
This was a great joy to them; he was
so kind, and had so much to tell them
about far-away places,
and strange
people, and animals, and things, such
as they had never seen. They never
wearied of hearing his stories, and he .
did not seem to weary of them either.
One day, after dinner, they both
climbed on his knees; and Lucy said:
"0, uncle, do tell us a tiger story!
We have seen a living tiger in the
Zoological Gardens; and what a fierce
looking animal it was ! We were
afraid to go near the bar of its iron
house. Uncle, did you ever see them
in India?"
"Yes, indeed, I have, both alive and
dead; and very fierce they were."
"Do tell us about them. Do not
the tigers sometimes run away with
little children?"
•'Yes, if they are very hungry, and
can get near them without being seen.
I will tell you a story about a tiger
and a baby which happened to some
friends of my own."
"0, that will" be so nice!"
"Well, this gentleman and lady had
one sweet little baby, and they had to
take a very long journey with the
child, through a wild part of India.
There were no houses there, and they
had to sleep in a tent. This is a kind
of house made of cloth, by driving high
sticks firmly into the ground, and then
drawing curtains all over them. It is
very comfortable and cool in a warm
country where there is no rain; but
then there are no windows or doors to
shut, as we do at night, to make all
safe. One night they had to sleep in
a very wild place, near a thick
wood. The lady said, " 0, I feel so
afraid to-night; I can not tell you how
frightened I am, I know there are
many tigers and wild animals in the
wood; and what if they should come
upon us?' Her husband replied, 'My
dear, we will make the servants light
a fire, and keep watch, and you need
have no fear; and we must put our
trust in God.' So the lady kissed her
baby, and put the child into the cradle;
and then she and her husband kneeled
down together, and prayed to God to
keep them from every danger ; and
they repeated that pretty verse, will
both lay me down in peace and sleep :
for thou, Lord, only makest me 'dwell
in safety.'
"In the middle of the night the lady
started up with a loud cry, 'O, my
baby! my baby! I dreamed just now
that a tiger had crept below the cur
tains, and run away with, my child!'
And when she looked into the cradle,
the baby was not there! 0; yon may
think how dreadful was their distress!
They ran out of the tent, and there in
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, JANUARY 5, 1865.
the moonlight they saw a great animal
moving toward the wood, with some
thing white in his mouth. They
wakened all the servants, and got
loaded guns, and all went after it into
the woods. They went as fast, and yet
as quietly as they could, and very soon
they came to a place where they saw
through the trees that the tiger had lain
down and was playing with the baby,
just as pussy does with a mouse before
she kills it. The baby was not crying,
and did not seem hurt. The poor
father and mother could only pray to
the Lord for help ; and when one of
the men took up his gun, the lady
cried, 'Ol you will kill my child!'
But the man raised the gun and fired
at once, and God made him do it well.
The tiger gave a loud howl, and jumped
up, and then fell down again, shot quite
dead. Then they all rushed forward,
and there was the dear baby, quite
safe and smiling,, as if it were not at
all afraid."
"0., uncle what a delightful story I
And did the baby really live!"
"Yes; the poor lady was very ill
afterward, but the baby not at all. I
have seen the child often. since then."
"0, have you really seen a baby
that has been in a tiger's mouth?"
"Yes, I have, and you too."
"We, uncle! When have we seen
it?"
"You may see him just now."
The. children looked all round the
room, and then back to uncle George,
and something in his eyes made Lucy
exclaim, "Uncle, could it have been
yourself?"
"Just myself."
"Is it true that you were once in a
tiger's mouth? But you do not re
member about it?"
"Certainly not; but my father and
mother have often told me the story.
You may be sure that often, when they
looked at their child after Ward, they
gave thanks to God. It was he who made
the mother dream, and. awake just at
the right minute, and made the tiger
hold the baby by the clothes, so as not
to inflict any hurt; and the man fire so
as to shoot the tiger and not hurt
the child. But now good-night, my
dear girls; and 'before you go to bed,
pray to God to keep you safe, as nay
friends did that night in the tent."
"But, uncle, we do not live in tents;
our nursery door shuts quite close,
and. there are no tigers going about
here. The man in the garens told us
that his one was quite safe locked up."
"Yes, my loVe, but there are many
kinds of danger in this world, and we
need God to take care of us here quite
as much as in India. Good night, and
learn by heart my mother's favorite
verse, will both lay me down in
peace, and sleep : for thou, Lord, only
makest me dwell in safety."
MOTHERS:
:SAD - , /,l6ls:trlFll.3_lD_liii oma if VW (401 Dl4-1
A group of young and interesting
girls were gathered in one of our insti
tutions to listen to the words of eternal
life. In the stillness of that Sabbath
hour, the theme of the soul's necessi
ties, and the great relief, were unfolded
to their view; their hearts were touched,
the Spirit of the Lord was there. The
unbidden tear, the earnest, regardful
expression, the bowed head, severally
gave token of the varied emotions agi
tating this youthful circle. For many
months had prayer and yearning de
sire looked towards this hour. Seed
sown with faltering hand and trembling
faith seemed bursting into radiant life.
Angel bands were hovering in that
hallowed ram with rapt emotion , the
book of life was opened, the recording'
angel waited to write the new names
in the life-blood of the crucified. The
valley of decision was reached, "the
one was taken and the other left." At
the close of that solemn hour divergent
pathways opened before those youthful
feet, seemingly near at the outset, but
more and more widely diverging with
every passing hour. A minor group
went with faltering tread may be, yet
growing ever More surely firm as each
footfall rested in the footprint of Him
who "walked before," each vision fixed
upon the city of glorious foundations.
The other band of bright.immortal
spirits, just as lovely and as hopeful
an hour since, beguiled by the fascina
tions of their pathway, crushed the
fearful soul-struggle, stilled the moni
tions of conscience, and went forth on,
life's voyage without rudder or com
pass. To-day the light of Heaven is
beaming brightly in the eye of the for
mer group, and they are growing more
and more into the image of Him whose
signet is on their foreheads. Their life
will win many on this coast to see
beauty in the Son of God; will draw
many from the vortex of sin and eter
nal death. They will be the light of
their homes in the hours of joy; in
sorrow they will be ministering angels;
in the hour of extremity they will lead
the dying sufferer into the very pre
sence of Him to whom they have con
secrated their lives.
The latter group will float on in
the sunshine, attractive and beautiful,
whiling away the tedium of the hour
with many a gay - device. The brilliant
ball-room, the opera, the theatre will
count:them their most ardent votaries.
They have chosen their destiny; their
influence is on the wrong side. of life;
no one is made purer and holier from
their. - contact; their young lives are
even now a failure. In the hour of
teMptation and darkness the light of
their life will be extinguished; no out
stretched- arm will upstay them then;
no guiding star will save them from
destruction. Who is responsible? A
careful inquiry has shown each to have
been the child of a prayerless mother.
No fervent supplication was arising in
that hour of decision, for that precious
immortal soul entrusted to her care; a
lent treasure, for which strict inquisi
tion will be made. No baptismal waters
had bathed those pure white foreheads.
They had been sent forth with no cove
nant blessing upon them, no prayer
that they might be kept "unspotted
from the world" had. enfolded them' in
its impervious armor. In the,day of
conviction their souls were stirred ap
parently to the same depths as were
the others; but there was no memory
of a mother's pleading voice to add its
wondrous impetus toward a right de
cision.
In the case of those who gave their
hearts to the Saviour, each felt the.ira
pelling power of a mother's prayer.
Their early memories are of Sabbath
teachings and. daily pleadings at the
throne of grace; they wore the armor
of the covenant of the children of God!
—The,Paci,fie:
FACTS UPON EARLY CONVERSIONS,
I was stopping at a house in the
country where four or five children
were met for play. Everything had
been done to make them happy. One
of the group, a girl about twelve years
old, was thoughtful, and would not
enter into their sports. All the incen
tives' used by the rest to engage her in
their sports failed. She would sit and
silently look at them. After an hour
had passed in this way the child with
drew quietly and unobserved. When
her absence was discovered, search was
made by her playmates. They called
her, but she did not answer. Searching
longer, they went to the barn, when
they were attracted by her voice. Lis
tening, they heard her praying, "Oh,
my heavenly Father, I am a great sin
ner: have mercy upon me." This,
with other similar sentences, was uttered
repeatedly in a most, reverent, suppli
ant, penitent manner. It is hardly
necessary to say that this child has
since professed faith in Christ.
I another place I was spending the
night with a certain family. A little
boy, always fond 7 of music, brought
his book and desired me to sing; but
he wanted to find the pieces himself.
he sat beside me and turned to one
after another, all of them songs of
awakening, such as, "Salvation, 0 the
joyful sound," "Come to Jesus," "I
want to be like Jesus." Afterward he
wished to know' ow, small a boy could
be a Christian. It was strange that
while he did all this, I did not think
the little fellow was anxious for his
own soul. But at evening devotions
the whole truth was made 'plain; for
during prayer, when God was besought
to bless "little Johnny," he could no
longer contain his feelings, but sobbed
aloud. When prayer was ended, he
immediately left bile room, and 'was
seen no more that night. For a long
time in his little room I heard crying
and words, but could not distinguish
them. In the morning he appeared
very dejected, and during the prayer
whisperings were heard. But, sad to
say, parental anxiety, to call it by no
severer name, " quenched the smoking
flax," and little Johnny is not a Chris
tian.
One more instance.• One of the
clearest cases of conversion I have
known in a long time, occurred on the
7th of August last, in the village of
Bowmansville. We had a children's
meeting, in which several children were
converted. In reply to a communica
tion from me, one of these little ones
wrote as follows :
"BOWMANSVILLE, Aug. 15, 1864.
"Dear Friend: It is with pleasure that
I take my pen
_to answer your kind letter
which 1 received last Friday. I did not
go to school to-day, but Millie has gone,
and Auntie and Lucinda went to Clarence,
and I have been alone most all day. But
I have not felt as though I was alone; I
have felt as though Jesus was with me. . I
feel as though he was with me wherever I
go. And . 1 am glad to say that . I feel, as
though my sins are all forgiven. How
much better -I feel than I did two weeks
ago! I now feel happy. The first Monday
after you was here I felt so happy that
did not know what to do; and that night 1
was so happy that I could not go to sleep,
but lay awake a long time, thinking what
Jesus had done for me. I love to be by
myself now. I want to be all alone, and
have my Bible with me; it is the only book
I want. lam glad to tell you that Rosa
has repented of her sins. She now feels as
I did, that she is a great sinner. I have so
much to tell you about Jesus, that I cannot
tell it all on paper. You must come and
see us again as soon as you can, and stay
longer than you did before. Pray for me,
my Christian friend, that I may ever be found
faithful, and that I may ever do my hea
venly Father's will, and meet you at last in
Heaven."
This was written by a girl about
fourteen years old, and is given pre
cisely like the original, excepting punc
tuation, and capital letters. Did any
one ever hear better testimony? What
a blessed state of mind is that, "I lay
awake a long . time, thinking what
Jesus had done for me." With David
she can say, "my meditation of Him
shall be sweet."
Oh, shall we not, as teachers and
leaders of the young, awake to the
fact that they are ready, anxious to
come to Jesus, and are only waiting
for us to extend the hand and lead the
way? God give us grace to begin
now, in this day of grace, our neglected
duty in this regard.—S. S. Times.
BREAD FOR A SONG.
I want to tell a story to the little
pouting, scowling, crying childrenwho
are never satisfied with their breakfast,
dinner or supper. What! you may
say, do the sweet little faces of the chil
dren actually put on such looks when
the thousand and one good things do
not please them? Yes, indeed, strange
as it may seem. I have seen a boy
throw away his pie and scream for
fruit cake. I have seen a little girl
put all the bread and pie crusts under
her plate, and then pout and refuse to
eat her dinner because she could not
have' jelly enough for half a dozen.
Now all you plump rosy-checked
children, who have nice fresh bread
and sweet milk, with more cake, pud
ding and pie, than is good for you,
listen to this. little story. It was one
of those cold, chilly days of November,
when all seems so dull and dredry.
The sky and every thing el%e looked
lifeless and cold, and the wind blew
- around the corners in a fierce way, as
though it would whirl you away, if it
could, and every now and then a wee
little snowflake, that looked as though
-it fell before it was half ready, came
hither and thither in an uncertain way,
just as r the wind pleased, you know.
But we were safe within doors, and the
room was warm as. June, and we were
chatting merrily around the dinner
table, when there came a timid ring
of the door-bell. Now there is some
thing peculiar in the ringing even of a
door e fbell. Did you ever think of it?
Sometimes it is the firm, strong ring of
the solid business man, who has all the
world on his shoulders, and knows
how to carry it; sometimes it is the
sharp quick ring of the postman as he
goes his rounds. Ah! how many
learn to listen eagerly for the signal,
or wait his coming with dread. Now
it is the professional ring of the doctor,
who would not disturb a feeble moan
ing patient; then the dainty touch of
a fashionable lady out making calls;
or the noisy repeated peals of the
children just coming home from school.
• But this was unlike all I have
named; it sounded as though whoever
touched the bell Was but half assured
of a right to do so, and so it was. A
little child, a boy, perhaps six years
old, was waiting with his bare feet on
the cold stone steps, and the wind
blowing through his torn cap. He
wanted to "sing a song for a piece of
bread!" "Let him have the bread,"
said one, " never mind 'the song."
"No," said another, "let us have
the song." So he came into the hall,
and down in the dining room we
listened. In a moment a clear sweet
voice began singing, "Who'll care for
mother now?" - I cannot begin to tell
you how sweet it was, as it came ring
ing and floating down, and yet, it
seemed to me so pitiful, as though it
was full of tears. Poor little wanderer,
scarce old enough to leave his mother's
knee, who cared for him.
No living hand bathed his thin face
with fragrant water when the golden
sun came up and he left his wretched
bed; no gentle fingers smoothed his
tangled curls, or mended the rents in
his miserable clothes, no pleasant
breakfast table waited for him with
silver cup and spoon and nourishing
food. So he wandered about like the
child Luther away over in Germany,
singing songs for bits of bread. When
his song was ended, his little cold
hands were filled with food which he
eagerly took and eat, and then he went
out into the world again. Alas, little
wanderer; what will become of him in
the bitter cold days and nights that
are coming,—who will *give to him
"bread that shall never perish? " And
yet, he is only one of a city full, and
the world is, oh, 'so great, and there
are so many cities! Children, pity the
poor wanderers blown like the snow
flakes hither and thither, with no home
and loved ones, and when at night
you are tucked tenderly away in. your
soft white beds, and a dear good mo
ther leaves you with a good night kiss
on your lips, sometimes pray for the
poor, neglected boy who sung a song
for a piece of bread.—Bosten Recorder.
GRANDMA'S FORTUNE-TELLING.
"Now what mischief?" said grand
ma, smiling, as she entered the room
and found the children huddled to
gether by the book-case, evidently
trying to cover up what they were
about.
"Lizzie's telling fortunes," said little
black-eyed Nell, looking up brightly.
"Ah ! that's it, is it?" said grandma,
taking out the big knitting pegs, and
a huge soft ball of crimson wool
which seemed to grow fast under her
fingers, into a warm, gay tippet for
some of the little folks, " Well, come
and sit around the fire, and let grand
ma tell - fortunes for you. She's a
master hand at it."
"Why, grandma, ,, said the children,
coming forward, " we were afraid you
would think it was not right."
"Well, I do not approve of common
fortune-telling, but my kind will do
no harm. It does not require a tea
cup, nor do I need to look into your
hands. Still, I saw the directions
in print once. To begin with Lizzie:—
If a little girl with blue eyes, auburn
hair, a quick mind, and nimble little
feet and fingers, will use her eyes and
mind well in gettino- a good education,
and employ her feet and fingers in
useful work, such as helping mother
about the ho - use, and taking plenty of
exercise out of doors with little brothers
and sisters ; if she keeps her rosy lips
from ever pouting, and. strives, to love
and obey God every daykibe will
be very likely. to ,have, a long, health
fullifet.to make, a 4 great many happy
by it, to be good-looking in every
body's eyes, and beloved and respected
everywhere as a sensible woman. How
could anybody make out a better for
tune than that for_ my_ little grand.-
daughter ? Every word of it is true,
too ; while most fortune-telling is only
falsehoods put together.
"Now, Gaorgie, if a boy with black
hair and eyes will learn to master his
temper well, so that ever so great
a provocation cannot make him angry,
he will gain a greater victory than
General Grant did at Vicksburg even.
If he will study his books hard, and
learn to be very accommodating at
home when he is asked to do anything,
everybody will look on him as a sen
sible boy, and love 'him for his obliging
ways. It is the polite, civil people
who make their way best in the world.
Try, and see if you do not find it so.
"Now, if a little black-eyed four
year old, like Nelly here, will run to
grandma's room, and bring me the
black silk work-bag which hangs, on
the chair-back, I should not wonder if
she, or her grandmother, could find
enough almonds and strawberry candy
in it to treat all this little company."
Very merry were the children over
grandma's fortune-telling, and little
Nelly insisted that hers was best of
all.
It had this particularity, that it
applied just as well to other children
whose eyes and hair were of any other
color. So can you apply it, dear chil
dren, if you. will ; and I know you
will it come true.
THE SERVICE OF SONG,
The ministry of the service of Song,
as a medium for the communication of
"Heatt Cheer for Home Sorrow," is,
we fear, too generally lost sight of; and
yet we could scarcely over• estimate its
value and importance.
Even in extreme cases, the efficiency
of this ministry has often been strik
ingly evidenced. A pastor who for
two long years sought in vain to alle
viate the bitter sorrow of one of his
afflicted people, tells us that eventually
God was graciously pleased to open the
heart that seemed hermetically sealed
to all comfort by the unexpected hear
ing of the simple melody of a familiar
hymn.
We believe many similar instances
might be adduced. Those who move
amongst the sons and daughters of
sorrow know well the interest which
is awakened by the mere repetition of
some words of sacred song, such a
hymn, for example, as that written by
Dr. Bon.ar
" I heard the voice of Jesus say," etc
Accompanied by the melody of sweet
sounds, it would seem impossible for
any sufferer to resist the soothing,
melting influence of this inimitable
hymn.
But if the ministry of the Service of
Song possesses so remarkable a power
in cases of extreme affliction, ought it
not to be more diligently cultivated
than it is as a ministry of Heart Cheer
for the ordinary, every-day trials and
sorrows of Home life? Ought not
Family Prayer always to be preceded
or followed by Family Praise ?—loved
and loving ones delight to "spek to
gether," after the example of the primi
tive Christians, "in psalms and hymns
and spiritual songs, singing and mak
ing melody in their hearts to the Lord."
Words of counsel cannot, we are
persuaded, be needed to commend this
medium of Heart Cheer to our-readers,
but we transcribe as an illustration of
its advantages (though in this instance
the singing was not confined to the
home-hearth) a passage which we
gleaned from the recently published
Memoir. of the late Dr. Leifehild,
written by his son.
"My father's habit of hymn-singing,"
writes his biographer and son, "was
perhaps partly hereditary; for his own
father's relief also from exertion, and
his resource in anxiety, was to raise a
solemn tune. When in peril from a
highwayman on Finchley Common,
my grandfather sought to encourage
himself and his sou by exclaiming,
`Now, child, let us sing Ottford,' and
the tune of Ottford was sung after a
fashion of fear and tierablin.g! It re
quired some faith in the charm of
hymn-singing to practice it almost at
the pistol's mouth, and, of course, under
happier circumstances, the same in
spiriting habit was more freely in
dulged.
"What contributed to foster and
confirm the habit in my father was the
like inclination on the part of my
mother, who confessedly had a charm
ing voice, admirably adapted to har
monise with that of her husband.
These two sang through life together,
and their whole life was a song in
many parts, and with many variations.
"Notwithstanding the solicitudes of
domestic affairs, and all the cares that
came upon them from unexpected
quarters, as well as the unavoidable
adversities of ordinary humanity, never
was there a more tuneful pair in sacred
song. In the earlier years of wedded
life their delight was to resort to some
rural spot, and there, humbly seated
on -the river's bank, or on a rough seat,
to sing favorite hymns to favorite
tunes. I also in due time added my
childish, and then my boyish voice.
The duet then enlarged into a trio, and
to my latest day I shall call to mind
the places which became vocal to our
family exercises, and where we poured
fOrth such gushes of holy and artless
song as we were skilled to raise.
" Once the pair were singing i n
happy freedom on the banks of a large
river—l think the Thames, near Maid
enhead, the well-known hymn begin
ning:—
'Thei`e is a land of pure delight
Where saints immortal reign ;
Infinite dag excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
`There everlasting' spring abides,
And never withering flowers ;
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
That heavenly land from ours.
Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand dressed in living green ;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan rolled between.'
"Though singing in an unfrequented
spot, the singers were overheard by the
tenant Of a neighboring residence,
who, passing' that way, had listened
with delight. When the singers had.
ceased, the gentleman politely addressed
them, and requested a copy of the
verses which he presumed had been
compoSed for that spot—so aptly did
the richly green meadows on the other
side of the river correspond to the
sweet fields drvsed in living green'
of the poet. 'I
ig Often after the exhausting services
of the sanctuary, in the peaceful parlor
of their own house, when they reached
it on Sunday night, with the younger
members of the family,. they would
unite in singing the closing hymn—
`Oh, if there be an hour that brings
The breath of heaven upon its wings,
To light the heart, to glad the eye.
With glimpses of eternity :
It is the hour of mild decay,
The sunset of the holy day.
`For then to earth a light is given.
Fresh flowing from the gates of heaven;
And then on every breeze we hear
Angelic voices whispering near,
Through veiling shades glance seraph eyes
One step—and all were paradise!' "
—From Our Own Fireside.
THE EARNIST LISTENER,
A pious clergyman had a careless
and idle son, who left his home, went
on board a vessel, and sailed to a
foreign land. His sorrowful parents
could only pray for him, and send him
good advice when they wrote to him.
The ship which contained their boy
reached a distant port, and was there
waiting to take in a fresh cargo, when
.the sailors went, on shore and brought
back with them a little native boy,
who could play some curious kinds of
music. He amused them for a long
time, but at last said, "You must now
take' me on shore." The sailors told
him he must not go yet. "0, indeed
I cannot stay any longer," replied the
boy, "aria I will tell you why. A
kind Christian missionary has com(
near the village where I live. Fron
him I learned all I know about Jesu:
Christ, in whom I wish to believe
This is about the hour when he meets
us, under the shade of a tree, to tell us
more. I want to .go to hear him:
The sailors were quite overcome b:
the boy's cries, and at once rowed hit
ashore.
The clergyman's thoughtless so_
was struck with the words of th
little heathen boy. He felt condemne
by them. "Here am I," he said t
himself, "the son of a minister i:
England, knowing far more about
Jesus Christ than that boy, and yc
caring far less about him. That
fellow is now earnestly listening to th
word of life, while I am living qui'.
careless about it!" In great distre,
of mind, he retired that night to
hammock; but his pious father's in
structions came back to his thoughv
and reminded him how he might se,:i
and. find that salvation which he
much needed. He became a rea•
Christian, and great was the joy in 11,
English home when the happy tiding
reached his parents.
THREE STEPS TO HEAVEN.
Rev. Rowland Hill once visited a
poor silly man, and on conversing
with him, said, " Well, Richard, do
you love the Lord Jesus Christ ?"
" To be sure I do ; don't you ?"
"Heaven is a long way off,'; salt;
the minister, "and the journey is difli
cult."
"Do you think so ? I think heaven
is very
.near."
" Most people think it is a very
.fieult matter to get to heaven."
"I think heaven is very near," saki
Richard again, "and the way to is
very short, there are only three stem=
there."
"Mr. Hill replied, "Only thre ,
steps?"
Richard repeated, "Only three step
"And pray," said the pastor, -11-11,1
do you consider those three steps
"Those three steps are, out of
unto Christ, into glory."
RANDOM EXPRESSIONS.
"I'm. tired to death." So you bay'.
said very often, and are still alive all.'
in very good health.
" I had: not a winkle of sleep : 1
night." And yet your bed-1. - elk'
heard you snore several times.
" I would not do it for the worl d '
And yet - yon have done many thiv,.:
equally bad for a trifle.
" We were up to our knees in mutt ,
You know very well the mud was De.
over your shoes.