ing he used to call them together by the gate and counted them. the sound of a pipe; and then he led them up to the fold and shut them all in, and went to his own house. One day, in the autumn, the shepherd had been watching the sheep all day long. They were some way from the cottage, for they had eaten all the grass that grew near it, and they had gone some distance off to find pasture. As the sun went down, the shepherd sprung from the ground and took his pipe. He put it to his mouth, and began to play one of his native airs. The sheep soon collected, and went slowly up the valley. It was a lovely evening; the setting sun was lighting the tops of the hills with red. The sheep came slowly on, sometimes stopping to crop the herbage, and sometimes to drink of the stream which flowed down the valley, while the dog ran barking round and round them. As the shepherd came near the fold, he saw his wife standing at the cottage-door and his little boy running down to meet him. The little fellow ran to the fold, and pulled out the stick which fastened the hurdles together; so that when his father came up with the sheep the door of the fold was wide open. He then helped his father to drive the sheep in. The shepherd himself stood at There were a hundred of them. He counted ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine; and there were no more -one was missing. This was a sad thing for the shepherd. He could ill afford to lose one sheep, and he knew what dangers it would be exposed to in the mountains. He went into the fold, and walking through the ranks, counted the sheep again. There were only ninety-nine. One had certainly strayed away. He looked down the valley, but could see nothing of the missing sheep. He called it, but there was no answer. dog look for it. He bade the The dog pricked up his ears, and ran barking over the fields; but he soon returned with his head hanging down. It was not to be found. A mist was stealing up the valley, and a cold wind that made him shiver. The shepherd looked at his pleasant cottage, and thought of the comfortable supper that his wife had got ready for him there. Then he looked at the cold, bleak mountains, and thought of the poor creature passing the night among them, and his mind was made up. "I must go in search of it,” he said. So he told his little boy to go back to the cottage, and say that he should not be home just yet, but that he would THE SHEPHERD. come home as soon as he could. Then he took his stick in his hand and started off with his dog. He went down the hill till he came to the place where the sheep had been feeding. There he looked round again; but still he could see nothing of the sheep. Just at this place a little stream came tumbling into the valley. He thought that the sheep had very likely followed this stream, so he went up by its side. The further he went the steeper it became. Sometimes he had to climb over rugged rocks, and sometimes to cross the stream. Once he fell into a swamp up to his knees; and once the stone he trod upon rolled away, and he slipped into the water. So he went on for a long time. It grew very dark, and he had to light his lantern. And then the mist from the valley enveloped him; so that, even with his lantern, he could not see far beyond him; and if he had not known the way very well he would have been in great danger. Every now and then he called, or blew his horn; but no answer came. At last, after he had been calling very loudly, he thought he heard a bleating a little to the right of him. He followed the sound, and soon he heard it again. This time it was above him. He looked up, and he 27 thought he saw a moving figure on the top of the rocks. He climbed up, and there he found the poor sheep, in a place where it could neither get up nor do vn, almost dead with cold and fatigue. Oh how pleased the shepherd was at this sight. He forgot his fatigue, he forgot the cold and the wet, as he clasped the little creature in his arms and carried it down the hill. And how glad he must have been, as he lay down to rest that night in his snug cottage, to think that he had not been hindered by the difficulties in the way from seeking his lost sheep. The next morning the shepherd went to the fold, to see if the sheep were all safe. He looked at them all; but the lamb that he examined most carefully was the little creature that had wandered the night before. And as he tended his sheep that day, he thought of "the Good Shepherd," and how He loved His flock. There were thousands of happy angels round the throne of God who had never known sin or sorrow. They at all times loved and served God; but there were people on this earth who had disobeyed Him, and who were sinful and miserable. And did He leave these sinful ones in their misery? No; He cared for them with the tenderest pity, and sent His own Son to die for them. Jesus came to this world; and through all His sorrows and all His sufferings, He still thought of His wandering sheep, and endured all patiently for their sake. And now Jesus sits on the throne in heaven, surrounded by thousands of happy angels and by the spirits of good people who have gone to heaven; and perhaps you, my reader, are sinful, and lonely, and unhappy. But still He cares for you, and watches over you, and will be ready to listen to you if you pray to Him; for He died for each one of us. The Bible tells us that a day is coming when He will see all His sheep collected together around His throne in heaven. And then those who were once sinful and unholy, will be happy and holy for ever. He is not now, nor will He then be, sorry that He came to suffer and die on earth. Think of this, and when you have read this little account, turn to the eighteenth chapter of Matthew, and the eleventh verse, and you will find: "For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost. How think ye? if a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray? And if so be that he find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth more of that sheep, than of the ninety and nine which went not astray. Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish." CONVERSION OF LIBE. In a book lately published by M. Casalis, on the Bassutos of South Africa, among whom he laboured, we have the following account of Libé, one of the early converts. Libé was the uncle of Moshesh, and was much displeased when missionaries came to his country. “Why do we not drive away those foreigners?" he said. Libé was nearly eighty years old when he said this. Not long afterwards Libé left the hills (where M. Casalis lived), and removed to the fruitful valleys of Corocorro. All he cared for was to find good pasturage for his flocks, and to get away from the preaching of the missionary. "He soon, however," says M. CONVERSION OF LIBÉ. Casalis, saw with vexation that we had found out his home. 'Get away with you!' he cried. 'I do not know you. I don't wish to have anything to do with you or with your God. I will never believe in Him until you have made me see Him with my own eyes.' At another time he said, 'Would thy God have power enough to change an old man into a young man?' Just at that moment the rising sun was darting his rays across the Maloutis mountains. 'Yes,' answered the servant of Christ, pointing to the sun, 'Look at that aged sun. He is thousands of years old; he seems as young and as beautiful to-day as when he lit up the world for the first time. My God has the power to do what you ask for, but He will not do it for you, because you have sinned, and every sinner must die.' On hearing these last words, Libé, in a great rage, turned his back upon my friend, saying, 'Young man, don't trouble me any longer. If you wish me to listen to you, you must go and fetch your father from beyond the seas; perhaps he may be able to teach me. "At another time I was asked to conduct the funeral of one of his daughters. The mourners had moved on before, and I was walking slowly towards the grave, when I saw Libé rushing towards me with great haste, 29 His threatening actions told me plainly enough what his intention was. I trembled at the prospect of being obliged to defend myself. But, happily, his sons saw him, and ran to protect me. At last, the miserable man, after trying with all his might to get at me, obliged his sons to throw him to the ground and hold him there during the service. When I passed near him as I was leaving the place, he strove to get away from his sons, and, as he could not, he struck his head violently against the ground, and then darting upon me a ferocious look, he heaped upon me all kinds of abuse. "After this we gave up visiting Libé, and only sent messages of kindness to him. You may, therefore, fancy my surprise, when, one day, he sent a friend to me of his own accord, to ask me to come and see him. Libé has begun to pray,' he said to me with much joy, 'and he begs you to come and pray with him. Yesterday morning,' he continued, 'Libé called me into his hut, and said, “My child, do you know how to pray? Go down on your knees near me, and beseech God to have pity upon the chief of sinners. I am in great fear, my child! That God whom I have so long refused to obey, has made me feel His power in my very soul. I know now that He CONVERSION OF LIBÉ. thing that he had not clearly heard. 30 exists; I have no longer any doubt about that. And that fire which is never quenched, who will deliver me from that? I see it! I see it! Do you believe that God is willing to pardon me? I refused to go and hear His word when I was able to walk; now that I am blind and almost deaf, how can I serve Jehovah ?" Here,' added Teion, 'Libé stopped for a moment, and then said to me, "Have you brought your book with you?" I replied that I had. “Well, then,” he said, | have pity upon me! I have no open it, and place my finger on the name of God." I did as he desired. "There it is, then," he cried, "the name, the beautiful name of God! Now place my finger on the name of Jesus, the Saviour." "Such was the narrative of this messenger. I had soon the joy of making myself quite sure of the reality of this wonderful conversion; and for nearly a year my missionary colleague at Morijah shared with myself the pleasant task of supplying spiritual nourishment to this old man, whom the grace of God had made as teachable as a little child. In order not to lose any of our instructions, Libé would generally take our hands in his own, bring his ear close to our lips, and say after us, word by word, all that we uttered, always begging us to repeat any more strength; my days are finished. Take me to Thyself. Let not death seize anything of me except these poor bones! Preserve me from hell and from the devil! O, my Father, listen to Jesus, who intercedes for me! O, my Lord! O, my Father!' Such pious exclamations as these occupied him so long, that my colleague was obliged to interrupt him, by asking him questions :—' Is there any desire that you wish to express to your family, and to the Bassutos gathered around you?' Yes, I am most anxious that they should make haste to repent and believe. Let them all go to the house of God, and listen to what is taught there. Moshesh, my son, where are you?' At this Moshesh covered his eyes with a handkerchief, to hide his feelings. 6 And you, |