fcliß family ©ittU. MISS MUFF AND LITTLE HUNGRY. A BALLitD FOR THE CHIIDRES. BY MISS WARNER. PART I. I must tell you a tale about money, And two little girls who had none ; Although it’s an everyday story— No novelty under the sun. The first one, I think you must know her ; She lives, very likely, next door. And the second, you’ve certainly met her A hundred times, maybe, or more. But, listen and see if yon know them As well as they ought to he known; And if any part of my story Sounds just like a part of your own. Miss Muff went out for an airing, One bitter cold winter’s day, And many a one smiled to her. As she walked with her doll down Broadway. Her face was so round and so rosy, People said, as they passed one by one, “ Why, she looks like a dear little bundle 1 A bundle of comfort and funl” For her frock was of finest merino, Her boots were as warm as could be; And two little blanket-like leggings Wrapped round from the foot to the knee. The bonnet was silk, neatly quilted; The cloak was well wadded all through; Round her neck hung a furry grey tippet, And each wrist had its furry cuff too. Even dolly was dressed in the^varmest, And muffled in cloth and in”silk; With her cheeks that were red as spring tulijJß, And her forehead as white as new milk. And there she went laughing and dancing, In the funniest sort of a way; While Muff held her little kid fingers, For fear she should dance quite away, They stopped and looked in at the windows Where other dolls hung in a row; With woolly dogs, wagons, and kitchens, Gray kittens, and cocks that would crow. They went into shops just for candy, And they went into stores just for play; And there was not a happier couple Than Muff and her doll, on Broadway. There stood upon one of those corners Where the winter winds played hide and seek, A child who seemed waiting for courage, Or waiting for power, to speak. Her face was so thin and so frozen, Her lips were so blue with the cold, That, whatever her pitiful story, It seemed it could hardly be told. Sometimes, as the ladies swept by her, She held out one little stiff hand, And pleadingly looked in their faces— For surely they must understand. And then as they passed her, unheeding, And floated away gay and sweet, She patiently waited—and shivered— And looked up, and looked down the street. But when she saw Muff and her dolly, The child’s deep-sunk, hunger-worn eyes jCould not leave her again for amoment, And even grew bright with |urpnse. And Muff, every bit as astonished, Stopped short where she was in, the Btreetj And stood there and gazed at the beggar, Her rage and her bare hands and feet* Arid while other people strode onward, And the wind whistled carelessly by ; Muff listened—and heard Little Hungry Break forth with her pitiful cry. “ A penny!—please ma’am, a penny! Sweet lady, just give me one! All day I have not had any, And the dgy is nearly done. “My basket you see is empty, And my feet are all aching with cold; If I was not so very hungry, I never Bhould be so bold.” “ Little girl, why do you go ragged, And stand in the street to beg ? And why don’t you have astocking To cover your little bare leg?” “ 0 lady, we have no money, And very little to eat; And mother says, if we must starve, We may as well starve in the street, “And, maybe, some blessed lady, Or gentleman kind and good, Might pity the poor little beggar,— My mother said, maybe, they would. “So, lady, please give me a penny 1 — Dear lady, to buy some bread I For mother can’t work as she used to, And father has long been dead.” “ Little girl? I would give you a penny, . {Mother gave me a dollar to-day) But the things that I like are so many, I’ve spent all my money away. “ I wanted a hat for my dolly, And those little red shoes for her feet; And by that time, you know, we were hungry. And had to get something to eat. “ And then, after all, I eat nothing But two little pieces of cake; ' For the icing that covered the last one Made this little wicked tooth ache. “So, poor little girl, I have nothing I gave my very last cent For one stick of wintergreen candy, And now all my money is spent.” PART n, Miss Muff went home to her dinner, And failed not to tell her nurse Of all the events of the morning, And how she had emptied her purse. Sto took off her cuffs and her tippet, And tumbled them down on the bed, And carefully lifted the bonnet t That covered her gay little head. Still all the time talking and laughing, And telling the sights she had seen; T-he poor little girl on the corner, - And the lady in purple and green. “Dear, dear I” said the nurse, ‘*who’d have thought it I . That you should stand still on the street, A talking to all the beggars That ever you happen to meet! “ Why, some day you’ll freeze all your fingers, And, maybe, the half of your toes; And like as not catch from the beggars Some terrible sickness—who knows? “But run down to the parlor, my pigeon,— Mamma is just waiting for yon; I know who’ll have turkey for dinner, And custard, and apple-pie too.” yiaa Muff went down to the parlor, And gave her mamma a good hug; And then she stood still by the fire, ; Her feet on the soft velvet rug. The fire went blazing and crackling, And Muff warmed each fat little hand, And thought about beggars and candy,— Things wiser heads don’t understand! THE AM UR!can PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY. JANUARY 18. 1886. Mamma, ” she said gravely, "when people Have nothing to wear, nor to eat, ,'hy, do you suppose, they like better To come out and die in the street?” ; My dear!” said her mother, “ good gracious ! Why, what makes you talk of such things? tut what has become of our dinner ? Muff, give the bell two or three rings.” x Miss Muff rang the bell,—and the servant Flung open the dining-room door; And the room seemed to glitter with conlfort As it never had glittered before. The firelight danced up the chimney, And the gaslights burned clear overhead; And the dinner for two that was spread there Was enough for a dozen instead. There was cranberry sauce for the turkey, And potatoes both golden and white; With celery, cold ham, and oysters, And more —that I won’t stop to write. You’d hardly have thought it’was winter, .The room was so cheerful and warm 5 Within, all was shining with comfort, "But without, was a wild winter’s storm, So gravely Miss Muff eat her turkey, And, gravely took pieces of bread; She scarcely could, relish her dinner, With so many thoughts in her head. She heard the wind roar in the chimney, And knew how it blew in the street; And sharp, icy hail was beginning The window and pavement to heat. She looked at the gay crackling fire, And mamma’s dress, of rich silken stuff; And thought of that poor empty basket, . And her plate—wherewasmorethan enough Then tasted the pie and the custards. And wondered, and wondered, and thought Till the waiter again cleared the table, And the almonds and raisins were brought. “ Mamma, why don’t people get money, And not be so dreadfully poor ? _ And buy themselves bonnets and tippets ? I should think they would like to, I’m sure.’ “ Indeed,” said mamma, “I can’t tell you,— Just hand me a nut-cracker, dear ; But if people will choose to he wicked, Why, then they must suffer, I fear.” 0, are all the poor people wicked ?' ’ Said Muff, with her wide open eyes ; Mamma, would my poor little beggar, Be better for turkey and pies?” “And pray, who,is your little beggar? And where have you been all the day ? And could you find nothing more pleasant Than beggars, to see in Broadway?” “Yes, mamma, I saw plenty of people, Dressed out just as fine as they could. WouM such clothes make my child a good beg gar? Mamma, do you think that they would ?" “ What nonsenseyon talk,” said her mother,— “As foolish as foolish can be. Go read in your story hooks, darling— Or play with your dolly till tea. “ These beggars you talk of, are naughty; They’re children for whom no one cares: They don’t wash their clothes nor their faces, And, I daresay, not one says her prayers.” “ And'then if they were nice and pretty, And had ribbons and dresses and lace, And said their prayers, too, God would love them?” Said Muff, with her serious face. “ Why, yes—l don’t know —I suppose so, — Dear me, what strange things children say! You can talk of such things when you’re older,- Now. darling, run off to your play.” _ Muff went and sat down on the hearth rug, And tried on her dollyjs new hat; But for waiting till Bhe was a lady, Her thoughts would not hear about that. (to be concluded.) LETTERS TO GOD. [IiOKG’S MONTHLY LETTER FOR NOVEMBER.] One day I met a little girl coming from our post-office, crying most bit terly. I drew near, to see wbat could be the matter, when I beard bubbling up from her broken heart these words: “I didn’t get no letter —“I didn’t — get —no —letter.” What friend failed to write to*this little pet, I know not. I wish he or she- had been there, to see in those tear-drops how much the young folks think a letter is worth. At this time, dear friends, my pen would like to tell you how some have, in times of trouble, tried to send let ters to their “ Friend” in Heaven. Yes, and how God sent them answers, too. Did you ever think how "nigh” Gad and Heaven are “to such as be of a broken heart?” How much trouble it would save to many, if they but knew and believed this ? One day a bright little* girl came to Professor Wise, the balloonist, and said: “ Mr. Wise, won’t you. take me up in your balloon ?” As the balloon was starting, he said: “Why do you want to go, my dear?" “I want to see my papa in Heaven,” was the touching reply. Tears stood in his eyes, as Mr. Wise had to tell her that his balloon didn’t go high enough to reach Heaven. A little boy, four years old, was sent half a mile from home on an errand. On his way home, he had to come through a piece of woods. As he entered it, he heard a loud clap of thunder, which frightened him very much. Soon there came a bright flash of lightning, and the boy trembled all over. Just at this moment he remem bered that he had two cents at home, that somebody had given him; it was all he had. He stood still a moment, and looking up, he promised God that if he would take care of him, and keep him safely till he could get home, he would give Him his two cents. God took care of the little boy, though he got wet all over during the shower. As he went to bed that night, he thanked God in his prayer for keeping him from being" hurt by the thunder and lightning, but still he could not go asleep. His mother hear ing him crying and sobbing, went ana asked him the cause. “ Why, mother, said he, “on my way home to-day, when I was afraid in the shower, 1 told God I would give him my two cents if He would keep me safe; and now how shall I get them to Him? . ..He found himself in quite'a fix; howto get out was the great question that caused the tear-drops to flow. In what -way tvould you have help ed him out ? Let me tell yon of some of the “roundabout ways" that have been made to send things to God. In Paris lived a poor family. The mother was sick, and the father had met with an accident, so that neither of them could work. - The five little children were beginning to suffer hunger. One of the number going to school was told that, when in trouble, we should “ad dress ourselves to G.od.” So she thought that the poor-box which she saw aside of the church door, and which had a large hole on the top to drop things in, was God’s post-office letter-box. Getting pen, paper and ink, she set to work and wrote. God a letter, telling Him ‘all her troubles, and asking Him to make father and mother well, and to send some bread for her hungry brothers and sisters. After it was all nicely written, she ran off with it to the church of St. Roeh. Her letter was about being dropped in, when a kind lady, noticing her singular conduct, stopped her, think ing she was at some mischief. When she asked the girl what she was doing, she at first did not wish to tell; but after a little she confessed what had brought her to the church. \ The lady took the letter, and prom ised it should reach its destination, hut first asked to what address God’s an swer should he sent. The girl gave the number of her house in one of the narrow streets, and then ran home with a light heart. Next morning, on opening the door of her room, she found a large basket filled with cloth-1 ing for the family, and a heap of money, and on top of the package were the words —“An answer from the Lord.” Soon after, a kind doctor came, who gave the needed medicine to the sick father and mother. 0, how thankful the daughter was, to think her letter was answered so soon and so well. . No doubt she felt as did old David when he said, “ I am poor and needy, yet the Lord thinfceth upon me." “I love the Lord because he hath heard my voice. Because he hath in clined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live.” Let me also tell you what happened in Berlin. One day a canary bird was found, with a nice letter hanging about its neck. The bird was caught; the letter was thus addressed, in German: “An den lieben Gott.” (“Tothe Good Lord”) The seal was broken open, when inside was found a touching let ter from a lady who was confined in a lunatic asylum. She was sent to this insane asylum by her relatives; and as they would not listen to her sad story of sufferings, she took this cana ry bird from the cage, and sent it forth to the sky, with a letter “to the Good Lord,” asking Him to take her out of this world. As the lady signed her name in full, her friends were soon found out, and she was set at liberty and restored to a happy home. Thus was her letter sent “to the Good Lord,” and answered to the joy of her soul. , . My pen feels like writing you also about a German boy whose name was Karl. Before his father died, he was often told that, when he got a little bigger, he would be sent to a good Moravian school. But, after his fath er’s death, his mother was left very poor, and found it difficult to get food and clothing for little Karl. What was Karl to do? Reading in the Bible the many stories how Christ helped the poor; how He opened the eyes of the blind, and made the;deaf to-hear, and the lame to walk; how He fed the hungry multitudes with bread and fish; yea, and even made the fish in the sea to bring up money when it was needed —ah! thought poor little Karl, “Heis the Oneto help me; if I could only get to Him and : tell Him. But how shall I get to Him?” said he. “Oil know what I will do. I will write Him a letter.” This he did thus, in the German language: “My dear Saviour, Jesus Christ, 1 have lost my father. We are very poor, but Thou hast said in thy word that ‘All we ask' in thy name, God will do it for us.’ I believe what Thou hast said, Lord Jesus. I pray Thee, then, 0 my God, in the name of Jesus, to give ipy mother the money to send me to the good Moravian school, where boys get to be wise and good.' Then I can serve Thee and help my mother. Good-bye. Karl.” •. The letter was then folded and ad dressed —“ To our Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven}' Away he ran with it to the post-office, and dropped it in the letter box with a hopeful heart. After .a while the postmaster was sorting his letters, when he came to this one—“To the Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven. But how was he to send it? That place was not on the mail route. No railroad cars or steamboat goes there. "0 I guess some crazy one .has written it.” And so he threw it aside. After the day’§ work was over, he took up the curious letter and opened •it His heart was touched by it, and so he gave it to a Moravian friend, who read it aloud at-church. A rich lady, the Baroness of La Lippe, listened to its touching appeal, and sent an answer to . Karl, saying that she answered it for the Jesus,” and would send him to that school. „ .r,- 0, how glad little Karl was for this kind answer to his letter, my dear friends, you and I know p t quicker and better way to make wants and wishes known to God. simple look of faith will do; for the Psalmist says: "They looked unto the Lord and were lightened.” And simply opening our lips in prayer, we “ shall receive;” and God says, " While they are yet speaking, I will hear. May our eyes ever be turned towards God, and our lips kept open in prayer. Yours, ever, E. M. Long. MRS. FRY. Mrs. Farrar, in her new book, gives the following aecount of that womanly philanthropist, Mrs. Fry: She had been married many years, and was the mother of ten children, when her attention was called to the wretched state of the female prisoners in Newgate, by some male friends who went there to see some criminals whom they knew. She was shocked to hear that three hundred women, with their numerous children, were crowded into four small rooms, without beds or bedding, without classification, tried and untried, in rags and dirt, and there they lived, cooked and washed. Their wretched condition made them so fierce and brutal, that the governor of the prison entered this portion of it with reluctance; and when Mrs. Fry, accompanied’ by one other lady, wished to be admitted, he advised them to leave their watches outside, lest they should be snatched from them. This they refused to do, and taking with them a quantity of clothing to give away, they entered that Babel of discordant sounds. Their appearance produced a lull, and certainly the tall, commanding figure* of Mrs. Fry, with her mild, benignant countenance, and her sweet tones of voice, might well make her appear like some heavenly vision to those degraded women. She distributed the clothing of which they stood so much in need, promised them some • comforts, and spoke words ot kindness and encouragement to them, such as they rarely, if ever, heard. Many years after this, I visited New gate with Mrs. Fry, and witnessed the thorough reformation that had been effected there. The female prisoners, were classified, cleanliness and order prevailed, swearing and fighting had given place to reading and sewing, and a Committee of ladies were con stantly visiting the: prison by turns. The morning I was there, Mrs. Fry was to have her last religious exercises with sixty female convicts about to embark for Botany Bay. We entered a good-sized, clean room, and found them all seated on benches, in perfect silence at the further end of it. Mrs. Fry stood at a small table between her arid the convicts; a few visitors like myself, stood on either side of her. She read from the New Testament a few consolatory passages, and then proposed to pray with them. The women rose, turned round, and kneeled beside, the benches; Mrs. Fry kneeled on a hassock before her table, and lifted up her melodious voice in such a strain of tender supplication for help arid comfort to the afflicted and sorrow ful, as I can never forget. She merged herself in them, and seemed as if she were bearing them up on wings of love to the thrope of grace. Such* a prayer I never before heard, and never shall again. It was sublime, it was fervent, and it moved all present to tears. The poor women sobbed aloud. Mrs. Fry had previously talked with each one of them and given them appropriate advice, and furnished, them with employment on their long voyage. My mother used to dress dolls for the convicts’ children tq play with at sea. THE LITTLE s STRANGER. October 25. —For the last three days dark clouds and pelting rain have hin dered me from getting even a peep of the earth. When 1 did so to-day, I saw at once that a change had passed over it. A fearful tempest had raged, carrying destruction before it, — strewing the. shores with the remains of wrecked vessels, telling a lamentable tale of woe, and speaking of the dangers attending those “who go down to the sea in ships, who do business in great waters.” The face of nature | also bore on it the ravages of the tempest; here and there great trees torn up by the roots lay prostrate on the ground, and the earth was cov ered with the many-colored leaves of autumn. I glanced into several abodes, and saw in some hearts suffering in unison with nature arouud. But even while the storm raged thus without, joy had come to others. In one room of a mansion in the. suburbs of a beautiful Scottish city, I ' saw the following. The shutters were partially shut, but I slid in, and peep ing throught the half-drawn curtains 6f a bed, saw there a mother and a. new-born babe. The child was asleep, i but the mother watched it as it lay, a I strange feeling of bliss stirring her heart, for this babe was her first-born, Only two days had the little stran ger as yet lived oh earth; in the midst of the raging ' tempest it.had firs> opened its eyes on a world of care ant. I sorrow. Could one have wondered if, in dismay at the prospect before it, the gentle spirit had A? d *?' bri realms ? But no: He who gave it Eh and fashioned all its members, had a work for it to do on earth-a work for Him. Already that work #a XsTH ttle messenger of joy, the IbabyV l had come > bringlQg PPl ' ness and comfort to anxious hearts. No father’s kiss had as yet rested on its infant brow, for he was far off in distant lands, fighting for his home and country. But as she gazed on the lonely little babe, the mother felt strengthened to beaf up till, in hap ner days, she could put the child in its father’s arms. Sleep on, little babe, happy in the 'and of baby-dreams! Short as thy ife has yet been in this world, thou last done a work in it which many, alas! who have lived years on earth have failed to do—thou hast brought joy to a human heart. May thy life be a happy one; thine earthly mission the blessed one of comforting weary hearts. I brightened up all around, then withdrew—thinking, as I did so, that though my rays shall one day be ex tinguished, the immortal soul of the little babe can never die. What better boon could I wish for it, than that it may early be led to the good Shep herd, who, whilst He lived on earth, took the little ones in His arms and blessed them, and who from yonder heavens, from His throne of glory, says still, Mothers, "suffer little chil dren to come unto me, and forbid them not.’’ “My ways are ways of pleasantness, and all my paths are peace.” —Diary of the Sun. A TEST. An American vessel was once board ed by a Malay merchant in the Indian seas, and almost the first question was, if he had good books or tracts to dis pose of. ‘■'Why, what do you want of them ? You cannot read them,” said the cap tain. “ True,” replied the Malay, “but I rave a use for them. If one of your oeople, or an Englishman, comes to trade with me, I give him a tract, and watch what he does with it. If he reads it soberly, and treats it with re spect, I take it he is honest, and will not cheat me; but if he throws it down with an oath, I’ll have nothing more to do with him, for he can’t be trusted.” fur t|s §Mr jMfcs. FAMILIAR TALKS—2D SERIES. TIL BY RET. EDWARD PAYSON 6AMMOND.* THE MOCK PRAYEB-ME KTI3TCJ. I JUST ASKED HIM (JESUS), AND LEFT HIM TO DO IT.” I want to tell you, my little friend, two nice stories about some children in Brooklyn. One is about a little girl, who seems never to have heard of Jesus ; and the other is about a boy who, though he had a praying mother, was very bad till he found Jesus. He was so wicked, that, with some other boys, he got up a mock prayer-meeting. But when a kind lady told him that he was mocking Jesus, he says, "I was very sorry.” I will tell you these nice stories just as they were told to me. I came upon a little girl, one afibernaon, whose plain dress showed her to be of the poorer class. Under the ragged hood there was a simple, sweet face, and a peaceful smile on it made me expect the hearty “ 0, yes!” that I received, when I asked, Do you love Jesus? How long have you loved Him? I said. ‘ ‘ Ever since three weeks ago last Sun day,” she replied, “ I never heard anything about Him before that. A lady asked me to go to Sunday-school there, and a gentleman told us about Jesus, and how He came to die for us; and so I could not help loving Him. 1 ’ But did not your father or mother ever tell you anything about the dear Saviour? I asked. “I haven’t any father or mother, brother, or sister, or anybody; I live with a lady, and when the gentleman told us about Jesus, I went home and asked her, and she told me a great deal more about him.” What makes you love Jesus? I said. “ Be cause He came to save me from my sins.” Then you. feel you’ve‘been a sinner? “0, ves; I did a great many wicked things before I knew how wrong they were, but Jesus for gave me.” How do you know He forgave you? “0,1 know He did; I just asked Him, and left Him to doit.” And do you want others to come to Jesus and get the new heart? “ Yes, I wish everybody would, and then they would be so happy.” At another time, six boys were kneeling in a side seat, and having, as I supposed, a lit tle prayer-meeting; but watching them, I discovered they were laughing, instead of praying, and as they rose from their knees, I saw plainly they were making sport, by a mock meeting, otsome other boys,‘who, near by, were having a real one. I turned to ask you to go and speak to them, but you urged me to go. With a trembling heart I went, not with any special purpose of leading them then to the Saviour, but to try and make them feel what a terrible thing they were doing in so mocking God. They seemed rather ashamed, and began putting the blame one on the other, except onej who spoke up honestly and said: “I started it.” I will let him tell the whole story, however, in his own words. “ A lady met me on the street, one day, and asked if I had been to any of the meet ings, at the Tabernacle, 1 told her no, and asked her what they were-; and she said Mr. Hammond met the children there every after noon, and talked with them about Jesus, and many had began to love that dear Saviour. I said I’d come, perhaps, and the next day I went and took some boys withme; thought I’d have some fun. Something that was said made me feel badly, and when a„ gentleman came and talked and prayed with me," I thought I’d like to be a Christian, I went home, however, and forgot ail about being good, and two or three days after went to meeting again to have some fun. “ Mr. Hammondtoldus we must go home, unless we had prayer-meetings, or were wait ing to be talked with; so I told the boys we’d nn. a ? eetin S- We .knelt down, laughing all the timebut when we got up and com menced to sing ‘ I love Jesus,"’h lady oame to us and told us we were doing a terrible' thing; we were mocking God; that He saw * Copyright secured. j what we were doing, even more plainly than she did: and that we were telling a lie when we sang ‘I love Jesus,’ for we were really hating hint. I began to see that it was very wicked, and told her I was sorry ; and she said that I must tell God so and ask Him to forgive me. Then she prayed with us and went away. A gentleman came_ and talked with me, and he made me feel still more how wicked I was and had been all my life. I tried to pray, and could not. So I found the lady again, and asked her, when she prayed her own prayers at home, if she wouldn’t pray for me. She said she would not wait until she went home, but took me in a. side seat and we prayed there. I went away feeling such a weight of sin, and when I got home went right up stairs and asked God to take away my wicked heart and give me a new heart, for Jesus’ sake. Mother prayed with me too, and I think God forgave me there, for I have been so happy ever since, and it seems so nice to read the Bible and pray now. I did not love to go to Sunday-school before, and used to lie in bed late Sunday morning, so I would not have to go. But now Sunday is the pleasantest time of the whole week. It is hard sometimes to do right, and I have to run in the house every little while and kneel down and pray, I come so near getting mad with the boys. ” As you have read these nice stories, have you not felt that you too would like to love Jesus ? You see the very first time this ignorant little child heard of Jesus, she says, “I could not help loving Him.” And yet you have heard of Him all your life, hut you have never loved Him at all. Like these wicked hoys, you have mocked Him many times. What a good answer this child gave, when asked why she loved Jesus— “ Because He came to save me from my sins." Hasn’t He come just as much to save you from your sins? Are not you far more wicked than this child was, for not loving Him? If you should die this hour, are you- prepared ? If not, 0! come to Jesus in the simple way this little one did. She says-, "I know Jesus forgave me. ■ I just asked Him, and left Him to do it.” That’s what you have to do. O, then, do it "just now.” This hoy who was so had says, “ I asked God to take away my wicked heart and give me a new heart, for Jesus’ sake; and I think God forgave me then.” How, you see, he loves to pray and to read the Bible, and “Sun day is the pleasantest time of the whole week.” John Bunyan says, "Praying will make us leave off sin ning, or sinning will make us leave off praying.” So, if this boy runs into the house and prays every time he “ comes so near getting mad with the boys,” he will soon gain the victory over his had temper. Come, then, to Jesus, my dear little friend, and offer this / PBAYEB, "I have been very wicked not to love Thee, when Thou wast so kind as to come down from heaven , unto this wicked world to die for me, a sin ner. I wish to love Thee and to give myself to Thee. 0, God, help me by thy Spirit, for Jesas sake. Amen.” INCIDENT OF A CHILD. A little boy, about eight years old, having jumped off the car from the rear platform, ran forward to get on in front, and by accident slipped and fell, so that the heavily.-loaded car passed over his leg, crushing it in a frightful manner. While he was lying on sone straw by the roadside, pre vious to being taken to the hospital, a little girl picked up his cap; and having ascertained from him his name and residence, ran with it to his home. His mother opened the door, when the child exclaimed, " Here is the cap of the little boy who has just been run over by the railroad car.” What words to .reach a mother’s ear! What wonder that, with frantic speed, she should have rushed to the fatal spot, thence to track him by his blood to the hospital. There she was at first denied access to her boy, lest her excessive agitation should hasten his death. A few moments and the mother’s love so stilled the surging anguish of her heart, that, with the calmness of despair, she was admitted to the presence of her darling child, only to find him conscious of his danger, and ready to obey the sud den summons to his heavenly home. “Jesus is with me, mother,” he said; " I must die, but Jesus is with me.” — S. S. Times. . VELVET TONGUES. When I was a boy, I and a number of my playmates had rambled through the woods and fields till, quite forget ful of the fading light, we found our selves far from home. Indeed, we had lost our way. It did so happen we were nearer home than we thought; but how to get to it was the question. By the edge of the field we saw a man coming along, and we ran to ask him to tell us. Whether he was in trouble or not, Ido not know, but he gave us some very surly answer. Just then there came; along another man, a near neighbor, and with a mer ry smile on his face- “ Jim,” said he, “a man’s tongue is like a cat’s; it is either a piece of velvet or a piece of sand-paper, just as Jhe likes to use it; and I declare you always seem to use your tongue for sand-paper. Try the velvet, man, try the velvet principle.” —Blind Amos. Stebne used to say the most accom plished way of using* books is»tao serve them as some people do lords)—learn their titles, and then brag of their acquaintance.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers