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day ?" said Mr. Stanley kindly, as he came | lifted up in inward thanksgiving, and Mr. in.

Stanley sat looking at the child with joyfu. Before her mother could answer, Annie wonder. It was the sweet, childish voice beckoned her to come and speak to her, and that again broke tho silence. “O sir, i whispered, “Mother, may I give him the had such a beautiful dream last night. I pretty one? He has been so very kind.” I thought I was going along a dark road, and

Mrs. Hart smiled, and told Mr. Stanley | I felt very much afraid, and I called to what her little girl had said.

mother to come and help me; but she was “ Thank you much, dear Annie," he said far away, and could not hear me; and I as he took the flowers from her; "they are came to a place where there was a deep, very beautiful, and so sweet. Who would deep hole; and it was so dark, that before think, to look at them now, that all the I knew where I was going I fell in; and as winter through they had lain like dead I was falling I was so frightened that I things in the ground? See how kindly screamed out to mother to save me, and I God gives even to such weak and perish felt some one catch me in his arms, and able things as these new life and new carry me far away; and when I looked, it beauty; yet these poor plants have no was a beautiful angel, oh! so beautiful, and souls, such as Jesus died to save.");

he carried me so gently, and looked so “Will you please to say that hymn kindly at me, that I was not a bit afraid; over again, sir?" said the child, looking and I asked him where he was going, and earnestly into his face—«• Gentle Jesus.'* he said, “To take another little child to

Mr. Stanley repeated it, as he had so Jesus ;' and just then I awoke, and found often done before, the little girl looking that I was in mother's arms." esgerly at him as he came to those two “ Yes," said her mother, “and you did lines —

cry out sure enough for me, and you " In the kingdom of thy grace

caught tight hold; I was quite frightened." Give a little child a place."

The angel of the Lord campeth about He heard Annie softig repeat the words:

them that fear him," said Mr. Stanley ; he paused, and she repeated the words a

" let us praise the Lord for his great goodsecond time

ness ;” and kneeling down, in simple words

he thanked the Lord for her delivery " In the kingdom of thy grace

from the bondage and fear of death. Give a little child a place."

“Now, mother," said Annie, when : She looked up at him and said, “ Please, Stanley left, "you bave nothing to be care sir, will you read in the Bible what heaven ful for ; for you have often said you couli is like, that beautiful chapter you read yes bear anything rather than see me so afraid terday?” As he read, the child listened to die. You see I only thought of the dark with eager interest, and repeated after him pit, and I forgot that God's angels couli the words, “There shall be no night take care of me there. I know I lorei my there.” “Now, sir, please, if it is not too Saviour, and I wanted to be with him, that much trouble, will you renil me the chapter I might love him more, but I did not like that they read at funerals ? " There was the dark road; but now it is all changede no tremor in her voice, and as he looked at | Yea, though I walk through the valley of her in surprise, he observed that the pain- | the shadow of death, I will fear no eri: fully anxious expression on her face had thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. gone. He read the chapter she asked for, Don't cry, dear mother, please don't cry, and wben he came to the verge, “ It is am so happy." sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory,” “But how shall I ever do without you? she said, “That is like my flowers, sir; that said her mother, in a burst of grief which is like me. I am not afraid to die, and be she could not suppress. put in the grave now. I don't know how “I have been a great trouble to you it is, but I feel quite different to-day. I mother, and have made you very unhapp! shall be sorry to leave dear mother, but by my wicked fear of dying; but, for all I think now I should like to die very soon, that, I know you will be sorry for me to and go to Jesus, gentle Jesus.'” There go away ; but perhaps Jesus will soon send was a bright expression of peace and joy on his angel for you too, and then we shall be her young face as she spoke, and for some | so happy; there will be no hard lessons to minutes after she ceased there was solemn learn in heaven, and we shall be so happy, silence in the room, the mother's beart was | Take me in your arms, please, mother ; 11

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always feel more rested when I am on your request, when she heard thọ hall door open knee; I am not very heavy, am I?” Very and the sound of her papa's voice. Then heavy! The poor emaciated body scarcely she hastily threw down her book, took up weighed more than when, as an infant, it the lamp, and ran up stairs. She found was placed in its mother's arms on the first the keys directly; but she came down night of her widowhood; and well the stairs in such haste, that she fell over the widow loved to take her darling on her bottom step on the hall floor. She was not knee, and press her to her bosom.

much hurt, but the lamp glass was broken “Oh, that is so nice!” said Annie, into a great many little pieces. Annie bewhen her mother had complied with her gan to cry, and she could not help thinkrequest; and, nestling her head in her ing that, if she had obeyed her mamma at mother's shoulder, she looked dreamily at once, she would not have met with this the fire. Presently a bright smile spread accident. Papa, hearing the noise, ran into over her face, she looked upward intently, the hull and brought his little girl into the as if gazing on some object which afforded parlour. her intense delight, and in a low voice "I hope, dear Annie, you are not hurt," repeated again

said he. “In the kingdom of thy grace

“No, papa; at least, not much." Give a little child a place.”

“But what made my little girl in such a

violent burry ? why did she not come down The light faded slowly out of her eyes,

stairs more carefully ?" the parted lips closed, she gave one gentle Mamma looked at Annie, and Annie sigh, and her spirit had fled to that happy

looked at her mamma, and then hung down home where “ there shall be no more dearli,

her head, and looked very much ashamed. neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall

“Well, Annie :” said papa. there be any more pain ; for the former

“Mamma asked me to fetch her keys things are passed away.”

ten minutes ago, and I went on reading, and forgot all about them, till I heard you

come in, and then I made such haste to “IN A MINUTE."

fetch them that I fell down." FOR THE YOUNG.

“Why did you not go directly, my

dear?" ANNIE WAYLAND was a little girl about "I did mean to, papa, as soon as ever I eight years old. She had a sad habit of had finished that page ; but the story was saying, when told to do anything, that she 80 interesting, that I forgot all about would do it in a minute, instead of doing it mamma's kess." at once.

“Ah, Annie, when will you learn to One evening her mamma said to her, obey at once? I hope to-night's accident “Annie, dear, run up stairs and fetch me my

will be a lesson to you in future." keys, they are on the drawers of my bed.

While papa and mamma were at tea, room. You can take the hand-lamp from Annie took up her book again; but she the hall table to light you, and you will could not enjoy the story now, she felt so easily find them.”

unhappy to think how she had grieved her "Yes, mamma, I'll go in a minute.” parents by her want of prompt and obeer

“You had better go directly, for papa ful obedience. She said to herself as she will be home soon, and I sball want the key got into bed that night, “Next time of the tea.caddy, to make the tea directly mamma asks me to fetch anything, I will he comes in."

lay my book down at once, even if it is a “Yes, mamma ; but do let me read to hundred times more interesting than Robin. the bottom of this page. I shall have son Crusoe.” finished in a minute."

For some time after this Annie was more Annie was sitting on a little chair by the careful to obey directly. One afternoon fire, reading Robinson Crusoe ; and she she was in her play-room, all her dolls were was so interested in the tale that she did around her, and she was busy working for not like to lay the book down.

her "children,” as she used to call her Mamma waited one minute, and several dolls. minutes more: but Annie went on reading The door opened, and in came mamma that page, and then another, and another. | with some work in her hand. “Annie,” She seemed to have forgotten her mamma's I said she, “I have brought you some hem

ming to do. This is a petticoat for baby, it should not slip out again. Miss Ellen and I want it finished to-night. It is done was very soon comfortably laid in the all but tbis piece of the hem at the bottom, cradle. «Now," thought Annie, “I will and I bave tacked it down ready for you to do my work ;” but half an hour had passed do, I am going out this afternoon to see since her mamma had left her, only she poor Mrs. Jones, so you will have to work had been so busy that sbe hardly noticed without me to-day.”

how quickly the time had flown. She had .“O mamma, I am so sorry you are only done a few stitches when her little going out, but I will be sure to do the cousin Sarah came into the room ; she was hemming very nearly while you are gone ; about Annie's age, and her great friend. and it is for dear baby, too. His clothes Sbe was just as fond of dolls as Annie was, seem to me something like my big doll's, so and Annie had been wishing to see her I like to make his things. I will begin in a cousin very much. She wanted to show minute, mamma.”

her a pretty new mantle of blue silk, which Annie always did some needlework every she had just made for her largest doll, afternoon, and she was very fond of sitting and a hat trimmed with blue ribbon to and sewing with her mother. She took match. great pains too, and could work very nicely “O Sarah, Sarab, I am so glad you for a little girl of her age. You should have come !" cried Annie. “I have some have seen how clever she was with her dolls, new dolls' clothes to show you. I wish I how neatly they were dressed! She did had not got this ugly work to do; but not tay, “It is only a doll, it does not never mind, I will do it in a minute." She matter how its clothes are made." No; she threw down her work as she said these said, “Mamma makes her children's clothes worde, and went to the box wbich held her neatly, and my children's clothes must be dolls' clothes. “See here, Sarah," she neatly made too." They had morning | said, as she held up the blue silk mantle, frocks and evening frocks, and summer “Is not this lovely? You must see how dresses and winter dresses, and out-door | Amy looks in it though, for it is a great clothes as well as in-door clothes. As deal prettier on her than it is in the hand.” Annie was but a little girl, her mamma Amy was brought out, wben it was found would help her with the most difficult parts, she had a cotton dress on. Both the little and she would do the plain parts of her girls agreed that it would never do to put mamma's work, and would say, “See how on her best mantle over her morning frock, busy we are, mamma, working for our so Amy was undressed, and her print dress children. Mothers must always work for changed for a white muslin one. This, their children, must they not ?" For, as I and the blue mantle, and the newly. said before, she always spoke of her dolls as trimmed hat, the little girls thought quite if they were her real children, and as if she charming. It took a long time to admire, were their real mother.

to dress, and then to undress Miss Amy, We shall now see what Annie did on when all at once Annie cried out, “Ob, this afternoon. As soon as Mrs. Wayland my work! mamma will soon be home, and was gone, she took up the petticoat and it is not done. Sarah, dear, fold up my said, " Oh, it is not such a very, very long dolls' things while I do this hemming." piece; I can soon do that. I will just put Sarah very good-naturedly put away the This book on Ellen's frock, and as this poor clothes quite tidily, while Annie sat down dolly is not very well, I will undress her to work. and put her to bed in the cradle." Alter As it always happens to people when she had sewed the hook on, she undressed they are in too great a hurry to take pains, her, and was going to put on her night. she could not get on very fast. She pulled gown, when she found the string partly | her thread tight, and it broke ; she pricked out, “Oh, dear, dear,” she said, "Dolly her finger, and it bled; her cotton knotted can't go to sleep so; her nightgown will and twisted, and she blamed her needle and feel so uncomfortable if it is not tied at the cotton instead of herself. At last the hem neck. I did not fasten the slide, and re was finished, just as she saw her mother member mamma says that strings are very coming in at the garden gate; but it was apt to slip if they are not stitched in the so badly done, that she hastily folded up middle.” So Annie went to her work-box, the work and put it out of sight. and took out her bodkin, and soon ran the It was now tea-time, and Mrs. Wayland, slide in, and then stitched the tape, so that I who had come home very tired, and with a bad headache, did not ask anything about her nightgown wanted to be stitched; and the work until after tea.

then cousin Sarah came ; so I left my work Annie was going to bed, when she said, | till the last, and finished it in too great a “My dear, bring me the petticoat that I hurry to do it well." gave you to finish ; I suppose it is done.” . And yet, Annie, when I left, you pro“ Yes, mamma,” replied Anpie.

mised that you would do your work in a "I am very glad of it, for baby wants it minute.' Your old way of promising withto-morrow, and my head aches so badly out doing! Often, when I hear you say that I shall be glad to be spared doing any so, I think how like you are to the man work to-night."

that Jesus spoke of in one of his stories." Annie brought the petticoat, and then “Which one, mamma?” she wished her mamma good night. How “ Why, the story of the man who had two wretched she felt when she lay down in sons, and he told one to go and work in his bed : her conscience whispered to her that vineyard, and he said he would go, but he she had been selfish and disobedient, and did not, 'I go, Sir; but went not. You she felt sorry that she had not told her promise fairly, but you do not hold your mamma how badly she had done her promise as a thing to be strictly kept. I work.

am sorry to say that, though I know you When she was gone, her mamma looked mean well, yet I cannot depend upon at her work, and was very grieved to see you.” large irregular stitches instead of neat and « Oh, mamma!” even ones. She was obliged to unpick all "No, Addie, I cannot feel sure, when but that little piece which was done before | my little girl says she will do a thing, tlat Sarah came, and to do it all over again. it will be done. You have a sad habit of

In the morning Andie felt ashamed to putting off doing what is your duty to do meet her mother, but Mrs. Wayland said at once, and you know how bitter is the nothing to her about the work until the fruit of such conduct.” afternoon. Then, when she and Annie “Yes, mamma, I often feel very un. were sewing together as usual, she said, happy, and very sorry too, afterwards'; but “How was it that you did your work so indeed I will try and correct this fault.” badly yesterday, my child ? I was obliged Little Annie did try in earnest from that to unpick it and do it again."

very day to obey at once, and though she “ Were you indeed, mamma? I am so often found it very hard work to give up a sorry. And you had a bad headache too. | pleasant thing for duty, yet it always made

mamma! I really did mean to have her happier to do so. "Yes,” she said, "it done it directly you left, but I stopped to is indeed best to do right at once.". sew a hook on dolly's frock, and a string of

Gems from Golden Mines.

And when we gave yet slighter heed
Unto our brother's suffering need,

Our heart reproached us then
Not half so much as now, that we
With such a careless eye can see

The woes and wants of men.

This did not once so trouble me,
That better I could not love thee;

But now I feel and know,
That only when we love, we find
How far our hearts remain behind

The love they should bestow.
While we had little care to call
On thee, and scarcely prayed at all,

We seemed enough to pray;
But now we only think with shame,
How seldom to thy glorious name

Our lips their offerings pay.

In doing is this knowledge won,
To see what yet remains undone ;

With this our pride repress,
And give us grace, a growing store,
That day by day we may do more,
And may ésteem it less.

Richard Chenevir Trench,

Our Missions.


THE HOOGHLY is one of the main branches of the great river Ganges, on the left bank of which lies the city of Calcutta, about one hundred and forty miles from the sea. Other important streams flow into it, so that the entire delta of the Ganges can easily be reached by boats, propelled by sails or oars. This ready access to the towns and villages of Bengal, which are almost always built on some stream or river, greatly facilitates the evan. gelistic labours of the missionary, as within a short space of time and distance he is able to reach vast multitudes, and carry to them the word of life.

We propose to give a brief account of a tour recently made by our highly-esteemed native brother Gulzar Shah, the pastor of the native church in South Colingah Street, in Calcutta. For some years he has filled this post, serving the church gratuitonely, whilst holding a responsible situation in a Government office. Having obtained a month's furlough, and made arrangements for the supply of his pulpit during his absence, he set out with the native preacher Kadir Buksb, and another friend, on the 27th November. The expenses were defrayed by subscription, and by a grant from the Calcutta Bible Society. They took leave of the church in a solemn service on the Sunday previous.

Their labours began at Kánchrápárá Ghát. Here they found the corpse of a dead man, with the friends, awaiting the Brahmin, to be burnt. Till the arrival of the Brahmin, they addressed the people on the Gospel, which was listened to with marked attention. Wearied, however, with the Brahmin's delay, some of the relatives began to be impatient and abuse him. On his coming, our native brethren were assailed by him with a volley of abuse for their interference. They left for the village. Here they encountered a number of people engaged in building some thatched houses. The missionaries asked them if they knew of any house to which they could go when the house that they were building was destroyed ? The question puzzled them ; but they were soon deeply interested, as the brethren explained to them the nature of that house not made with hands, which

the Lord Jesus would give to all who receive his offered grace. Those who were on the thatch came down to hear of Him who died on the cross for our redemption.

The next day, at Suksagar, they addressed large bodies of people, and the press to get books was very great. Here, also, they met with a Mohammedan, greatly afflicted, and after an interesting conversation, went to his house to see the other members of his family. His aged mother was there, more than sixty years old. They spoke of Christ, who himself “ took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses." The old woman was touched with the story of the Saviour's love. She said, “How shall I go to him ? Where shall I find him?" She was directed to the Hearer of prayer, who will not despise the broken and contrite heart. “But," said she, “I am an ignorant old woman. I cannot read; I do not know how to pray. Will you please to teach an ignorant old woman to pray? will you show me how to pray?” “We knelt down beside her," says Gulzar Shah, “and offered up a short prayer, and we feel assured that the Hearer of prayer will answer it in his own time. The old woman was melted into tenderness, and we could not refrain from making a manifestation of our tenderness for her. The old woman again said,

Oh! I cannot pray, and I cannot remem. ber a long prayer. We then left a book, in Mussulman-Bengáli, with a lad who could read, with special directions to teach ber the Lord's prayer, and we told her to think often of the Saviour who shed his blood to redeem us from our sins."

At Balagore, on the 29th, they separated into parties to preach in different parts of the bât, or market. Among the many who heard, two persons attracted their particular attention. One was a Byragi, or devotee of the Vaishnava seot. He could not resist the charms of the Cross, and agreed with all that was said ; but the world was too strongly entrenched in his affections. He was directed to rely on Christ, whose grace is sufficient for us. The other case was that of an old woman, who listened with rapt attention. Sbe could not read; but she earnestly asked the way to Christ. In a similar way these dear brethren pursued their course, proclaiming the glad tidings in every town and vi!.age, and in many of

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