TO THE YOUNG READERS OF THIS PAPER.

MY BELOVED YOUNG FRIENDS,

Here is the sixth volume of your little Paper all complete, and as you look over its many stories and interesting news, I hope you will find it quite as entertaining and instructive as any that has gone before. It is all written in very simple language that you may understand it easily, and value it the more; and it gives you accounts of the labours of many different Societies, without always giving their names, that you may see that the great missionary work belongs to all the Christian Church, and is the same holy cause whether carried on by the Church of England, or that of Scotland, Moravians or Methodists, Independents or Baptists. All are fighting under one King, in one great cause, and for one grand end; and all will equally rejoice when the victory is won, and the whole world conquered for Christ.

I hope that as you grow up, you will grow up full of a missionary spirit, and that your interest in this little paper and the stories given there, may help to make you both better and more useful men and women.

Year after year, dear readers, is flying away. Many of your parents, teachers and ministers have died since six years ago I began your Paper. Very soon I and all who are now your guardians and teachers must die too. We want to see you so loving Christ, and so working for God, that when we die and leave our labours here, we may feel certain that His work shall not stand still, but that from you shall rise up those who shall carry it on, when we are here no more.

Let me tell you a little story about this.

There was once a noble lady who used to go with her husband to the battle-field. Her husband was the standard-bearer before his regiment, and as he marched at their head, holding his banner very high that all might see it well, he cheered on his fellow-soldiers in the field. One day a hot and fearful battle was engaged in. The noble lady took her stand beside her husband, holding by the hand their lovely little boy. And as the battle rose in fury, and many fell on every side, her voice was often heard cheering her husband on, and bidding him to hold up the banner high. At last her husband fell, cut down by some arrow, or ball, from the opposing foe. As he tell, the banner dropped from his hand, and was all stained by his blood, as it flowed treely from his wounds. The moment the soldiers saw their standard-bearer fall, they began to give back a little, and were about to fly. The noble lady saw them giving back, and longing for their triumph that day, and forgetting for a moment her loss, she seized the standard stained with her husband's blood, and lifting it up, put it into the hands of her little boy," There my boy" she said, "your father died bearing your country's banBear you the banner now, and never let it go, till like him, you fall upon the battle-field." The little lad took the banner, hardly knowing what he did, and stepping on before the soldiers held it high. The soldiers raised the shout when they saw the lad lifting up their standard, rallied their fellows, and soon won the day.

ner.