NOVEMBER, 1860.

"HE NEVER TOLD A LIE."

MUNGO PARK, in his "Travels in Africa," relates that a party of armed Moors having made an attack on the flocks of a village at which he was stopping, a youth of the place was mortally wounded in the affray. The natives placed him on a litter, and conducted him home, while his mother went before, and by her clasped hands and streaming eyes made known the bitter grief she felt. In the midst of her sorrow, she spoke in broken accents of the virtues of her dear boy. To do this seemed to give her the only relief she could get in this bitter affliction. She again and again dwelt on one quality her dying child possessed. "He never," said she, with pathetic energy, "never, never told a lie." What a noble epitaph that would have been for the boy's grave! But there were no tombstones in that heathen land. Were you to die, dear children, would your mother be able to say this of you? If not, from this day resolve to speak the truth at any cost. Doing so, you will be far happier than you have ever been. You will begin to be trusted by others, and you will get the good opinion of those who know you. Above all, the great God in heaven, who, you know, is the God of truth, will be pleased with you. Every good child wishes to love and serve God.

They that worship Him, Christ once said, "must worship Him in spirit and in truth." A little liar He will not hear, nor bless, nor save. Now suppose any boy or girl should refuse to take our earnest, loving advice, we would ask them seriously to think over what will happen to them. We feel very sad and sorrowful to write it, but we must do it. In such a case, Satan, the father of lies, will claim you as his child and it is a very terrible thing to be, and to be called, a child of the devil.

ALONE IN THE LIGHT-HOUSE.

(Concluded from page 298.)

WAIF was naturally courageous, but when she found herself alone in that solitary place, with the wind whistling around her, and the waters surging madly below her, the terrible responsibility that rested upon her almost overcame her. The light-house seemed to be swaying to and fro; and the child could not help thinking of the wild stories that the fishermen's wives had told her, and of one in par ticular, where a light-house had been taken from its foundation, and carried out to sea. O! it was dreadful-and the little hands shook, as they poured fresh oil into the lamps, and wiped the moisture from the glass-to think that such a fate might be hers She looked out from the window; but the sight appalled her: the bright light threw a broad glare on the water, but she could only see the white foam caps leaping up below her, and hear the sea dashing against the stone walls of the tower. As she stood, however, on the little platform beside the great glass

lens, fearing and trembling lest every moment the floods should carry her away, there came, as it were, a sweet voice in her ear, saying,— "In thy need call to the Lord,

Pray to Him in faith and trust,

And gracious aid He will afford."

The words seemed strangely familiar, though she could not tell where she had heard them; and, yielding to the impulse, she obeyed the voice, and asked God not to forsake her. All of a sudden there came a tremendous sea, which swept completely over the light-house, shattering the thick panes of glass, and pouring in a stream of water at her feet. She quailed and trembled, but only for a moment; for she felt that now or never she must be faithful to her lamp. What if the glass around that should be crushed also? And now the rain and the leaping spray came rushing in; but this time another sound came into her ears, and she trembled anew as she heard the boom of a gun, and knew it was a signal from some vessel in distress. She peered through the window, but she could see nothing save the black night; and the dashing, foam sent her back again. For weary hours she watched the lamp, never suffering the light to dim, while her form shivered with the cold, and her garments were drenched with the spray that still poured in.

At length (and O, how long that night had seemed!) the grey morning dawned. The wind had subsided, and the rain came down more gently, when, lifting up her tired head from the bench on