all? It was one of those beautiful providences, often unseen and unnoticed by us, of which the world is so full, by which he accomplishes his purposes of mercy and love to his children, The cries of that suffering family had reached his ear, and in Infinite wisdom he came to their relief.Child at Home. OT long ago a little girl in the Sabbathschool heard a missionary tell about the heathen children, especially the little girls, how cruelly they were treated, because they were girls; put to the hardest work, and then beat if their strength gave out and they could not do it; their fathers always rough to them, and their brothers never kind; no pretty plays, no sweet kisses, no beautiful books, no pleasant schools, no god but an old stone, or an ugly block; no lovely spirit of forgiveness, no dear child's prayers, no "Now I lay me," no knowledge of Jesus Christ, the precious Saviour of the world; all rude, miserable, and down-trodden, because Jesus was not there. He would put things right, and mend the homes of these little girls and boys, and no one else could. And he had already sent them word what to do. 'He sent word by Matthew, and Mark, and Luke, and John, and Paul. But Matthew, and Mark, and Luke, and John, and Paul cannot get there without your help," said the missionary to the Sabbath scholars. "Won't you help these go and preach the gospel which tells how sin can be washed away?" The Sabbath scholars looked at the missionary with, "I am sure I want to," in all their eyes. One little girl said to herself, "Oh, I must help! I will." She went home thinking. She told her mother what the missionary said, and she added, "Suppose, mother, I was a poor heathen; should I not think it very hard if Sabbath-school children here did not send me the word of Jesus-didn't try to save my soul?" So upon the Christian principle of doing as she would be done by, she began to think what she could do. She was very poor. She had nothing to give. She was sickly, and could earn nothing. She could pray. Yes, a little child can do that; and she did: but that only made her the more want to do something besides. The next morning her mother minded she waked up pretty early, and the first question she asked was"Mother, is Pet mine to keep?" 66 "Yes," answered her mother; "Pet is yours to do what you please with." Pet was a little motherless chicken about a month old, which a neighbour gave her, and which the little girl named and loved dearly. She never had a pet before. And Pet loved the little girl. It knew her voice, and used to run after her wherever she went, like a dog. This was the little girl's "all," her treasure. I'll 66 Mother," she said, with a sweet seriousness, “I am going to give Pet to the missionary. I've nothing else, and it to the minister's house this morning." carry "Well," said her pious mother, "do, Katy, as you think best." Katy gave chicken its breakfast with tears in her eyes. It pecked so cunningly, and these were its last crumbs from her hand. But, mother did not like to interfere. If the Holy Spirit was teaching and strengthening her little child to give its all to Christ, she should not stop the work. So Katy stirred up the wool in Pet's basket, and put it in. Pet did not want to go in, it had rather run about the kitchen, as it was used to; for, of course, it did not know it was to be a missionary chicken, and if it did, I daresay it would have been too chicken hearted to appreciate it. Katy took the basket in her arms, and set off to the minister's. Poor Katy. I do not know what happened in the minister's study, where Katy told her story. I only know that a tear dropped from the good man's eye on the study table, and he said, "Who of my parish will give their ox, or a cow, or a sheep, or a barrel of apples, or a load of hay, to preach Christ to the heathen?" The minister bought the chicken. He paid Katy sixpence for it. She put the sixpence in the mission-box on the minister's table, and was about to take leave of her dear Pet, when the minister said,— "I've nobody to take care of little chick in my house, Katy; won't you carry it home and keep it for me?" "Oh yes, sir," she cried; and home little Katy trudged with basket and chicken, as happy as child could be. She was faithful in little, and God fulfilled his promise in making her "faithful also in much." THAT IS A BOY I CAN. TRUST. Varieties. "I once visited," says a gentleman, "a large public school. At recess a little fellow came up and spoke to the master; and as he turned to go down the platform, the master said, "That is a boy. I can trust. He never failed me.' I followed him with my eye, and looked at him when he took his seat after recess. He had a fine, open, manly face. I thought a good deal about the master's remark. What a character had that little boy earned! He had already got what would be worth to him more than a fortune. It would be a passport to the best office in the city, and what is better, to the confidence of the whole community. I wonder if the boys know how soon they are rated by old people. Every boy in the neighbourhood is known, and opinions formed of him; he has a character, either favourable or unfavourable. A boy of whom the master can say, 'I can trust him; he never failed me,' will never want employment, The fidelity, promptness, and industry which he has shown at school are prized everywhere. He who is faithless in little shall be faithless in much." A SNAKE IN A FIX. A Texas correspondent of a New York paper gives the following snake story :"One night my wife and myself were awakened by a noise from the shelf which contained our small store of crockery, followed by a crash, which showed that a great portion of Our cups and plates had been flung on the floor. Springing up to discover the author of this 'attack upon china,' I found a large snake in a somewhat unpleasant 'fix.' He had crawled upon the shelf, attracted by a number of eggs which were scattered about. One of these he had swallowed, and, in order to get at the next, he had put his head and a portion of his body through the handle of a jug, which happened to stand between the coveted delicacies. The handle was just open enough to let his body, in its natural state, slip cleverly through, but not sufficient to let it pass when puffed out by the egg. In this position he had swallowed the second egg. snakeship thus found himself unable to advance or retreat, and, in floundering about to escape from this novel stock, had caused the accident which had aroused us. I, of course, proceeded at once to execute summary justice upon the interloper, but the eggs which he had swallowed were a dead loss." His Music. FOXES HAVE HOLES. The fox-es have holes and the birds have nests, But Jesus my Saviour had not where to lay his head. But Jesus my Saviour had not where to lay his head. Poetry. HYMN FOR A CHILDREN'S FESTIVAL. Saviour, thou wast once a child, Bless and make us thine. Mothers once did round thee press, Bless and make us thine. Bless us now, this festal day, Bless and make us thine. |