the matter, it is no affair of mine." "It is a matter," I said, "in which we are all deeply concerned. There will come a day when all will be sensible of it. The Bible is the only book which makes us acquainted with God, ourselves, and the way of salvation." Mrs. B- looked displeased; and as she moved to the door to hasten my going, Hannah, with a beseeching look, said, "Grandmother, if I may not go to school, may I pray to God?", The parent could not resist this appeal, and replied, "Yes, if you will not talk about it." "Can God hear me when I speak softly?" said the child, addressing herself to me. "Yes," I answered, "God hears the faintest whisper; if the prayer is in your heart God knows your heart, and every desire in it. He helps you to pray by putting the Holy Spirit within you, which enters without noise or observation. Therefore, 'pray to your Father in secret.' His gracious ear is always open to your cry He despiseth not any. 'His tender mercies are over all his works.' 'Even as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him."" "Pray, Ma'am, come again soon," said Hannah, as I left the cottage. I promised I would, if I heard a good accoun of her behaviour from her grandmother. The next time I found the kitchen empty; Mrs. B—was upstairs nursing Hannah, who was not expected to recover. She was in a high fever, and had been delirious all night. Mrs. B- was weeping bitterly. "O, my child," said she, "my dear child; so unlike other children, so good, so loving, how can I bear to part with you ?" After I had waited for some time, in hope Hannah might come to herself, I was going down stairs, when Mrs. B― called out, My child wakes up." I returned to the room. Hannah knew my voice, but was too weak to speak. She made me understand that she wished me to pray. She looked towards her grandmother, who knelt in a moment at my side. I prayed earnestly for help. Mrs. B-became more composed, and she expressed a wish that I should repeat my visit to her grandchild. In the course of a few days Hannah's illness took a favourable turn; and she told me, with delight, her grandmother had promised she should come to my Sunday-school as soon as she was able to walk. It was not long before the dear child became my scholar; and 1 found in her a pupil thirsting after knowledge. Although the sweetness of her temper, and the modesty of her manner, made her a favourite with me, she never grew forward and familiar. One day, when I praised her for her attention, she, with evident effort, in the presence of her schoolfellows, came forward and said, "Pray, ma'am, call upon my grandmother and read to her.' I smiled consent, but doubted how I should succeed. I called' however, on Mrs. B-, and saw, in a moment, I was not wanted; Hannah looked timidly at me, offered me a chair, and while I spoke to her grandmother, reached her Bible, a book which was regularly dusted, but never opened. I lost no time, but turned to 2 Tim. iii. 16, 2 Pet. i. 21, and John vi. 1-14. "That is pretty reading," said Mrs. B-, "if it is all true. "Why should we doubt the truth of it?" I replied. ful," was the answer. of your child's health equally astonishing? Medicines were of no use, no man could help, all hope of recovery was gone, and you were well nigh in despair." "I remember the mercy," said the fond parent, regarding the child, "I shall not forget it any more." Then turning towards me, she said, "Perhaps you will call another day, when you are at leisure." Willingly," I replied; "the more frequently you hear God's word, the greater will be your desire for it." Hannah laid the Bible again on the shelf, and with one of her sweetest smiles, said, "Thank you, ma'am" Thus early did Hannah employ her" one talent." "It is so wonder"the recovery "And was not," I replied, Henceforward, Hannah was on the watch to tell me when her grandmother would be at leisure; and the reading of the Word appeared to be blessed to the old woman. Hannah was her greatest comfort. They were both now unhappy about the grandfather, who was an Infidel, and whose heart was very hard. But God sent sickness, and sorrow, and poverty upon him; and at last, in answer to our many prayers, his hard heart seemed softened, and he cried, 'Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief." Their poverty now obliged them to part from their grandchild. It was a sore trial, but they submitted patiently to God's will about it. When I heard last of Hannah, she had grown to be a woman, and was, I heard, a Sunday-school teacher. Dear children, do not forget the history of Hannah. Pray to God to teach you to love the Bible, and prayer, and your kind teachers, as much as she did; and then remember, that even a little child, if humble, obedient, and teachable, may do something to lead others to read the Bible, and become, like Hannah, a little labourer in the Lord's vineyard. ALL SAINTS' DAY. Tell me, you bright stars that shine And His eminent followers still. As we clearly saw their mind Up towards this strained all our powers. Taught by Temperance we abstained Arm'd with Fortitude, we bare Mortal death we durst out-dare, Rather than for ever die. Justice we observed, by giving Prudence governed all the rest; On these golden wheels of grace, POOR ANTHONY, A NEW CAROL FOR CHRISTMAS EVE. Ir was a cold and stormy night on the 24th of December, when a lovely boy eight years of age was seen wandering over the snowy fields. The poor fellow's hair was frozen and his thin cheeks were purple with cold. In his hand he carried a thick blackthorn stick, and over his shoulder a bag containing all the few things he had in the world. But he was a happy cheerful little fellow, and took great delight in looking at the beautiful winter landscape, and the whitened hedges and bushes on the way. Meanwhile, the sun went down in a glow of red, and the top of the neighbouring fir-wood beamed in the evening gold. Little Anthony now began to walk boldly through the wood, hoping before dark to reach the village beyond. But he had not travelled half a mile before he lost his way, and wandered about through the wildest places of the dark and lonely forest. His way was constantly through the deep snow, and he was often nearly lost in the holes and pits which were concealed by it. Night fell, and a cold wind arose, clouds covered the sky and hid every little star which had before shone out to cheer his way. It became very dark indeed, and the snow again began to fall heavily. The poor lad could find no trace of a path, and knew not which way to turn. At last, wearied with his journey, he no longer attempted to go on, but stood still, and began to tremble and weep bitterly. He laid his little bundle on the snow, knelt down beside it, and taking off his hat, raised his trembling hand to heaven, and thus prayed: "Dear Father which art in heaven, suffer me not to perish of cold in this wild wood. Thou knowest that I am a poor orphan, without father or mother: I have no one but Thee; but Thou art the comforter of all poor orphans; take pity on Thy poor child; this is the night on which Thy dear N Son was born into the world. For His sake hear me, even on this wild night, whereon Thy blessed Son was born." Then, laying his weary head upon his bundle, he sobbed and wept bitterly. But hark! There comes from the neighbouring hill a sound lovely as the voice of an angel, and a beautiful song arose, and resounded among the rocks. It seemed to the lost boy as if he really heard the hymns of God's blessed angels. He stood up, folded his hands, and listened. The wind had abated, and not a breath stirred; nothing was heard but the lovely song rising upon the stillness of night; at last he could plainly hear the words; Rejoice, Rejoice, Rejoice, Glad news to earth we bring! Shout we with cheerful voice To heaven's high King, Evermore with heart and voice, Rejoice, Rejoice! For a little all was still, and then there resounded again, like a soft echo, the sweet sounds of a harp. Poor little Anthony's heart was touched. "Ah!" said he, "thus must the shepherds at Bethlehem have felt when on this holy night they heard the heavenly song. I will take fresh courage and be happy again. Surely good men live near who will receive me, for I hope they not only sing like angels, but like them are good, and heavenly minded." Then, taking up his bundle, he climbed up the hill where the lovely song seemed to come from. He had only gone a few steps through the wood, when a faint light beamed upon him. He went forward joyfully, and soon reached a house which stood alone in the wood. He knocked two or three times at the door, but though he heard several voices within, no one answered him. He tried to open the door, and as he found it only fastened by a latch, he went in. After groping a long time about the dark passage, seeking for the door of the room, he at last found it. Not daring to quite open it, he stood pushing it forward a little way, just enough to let him see who were inside. |