waves dashed their spray over it, but the path was solid; and though Job Oglethorpe's daughter had not traversed it often, she felt no great alarm.

Jessie had just helped her sister to climb the stepsfor it was raised a few feet above the level of the shorewhen, in the lull of the wind, her quick ear caught a sound like a low moan.

She moved a few paces, and directed the flickering light of her lantern towards the quarter whence the sound seemed to issue. What is that dark heap lying yonder on the weedy rocks, and sprinkled with the salt spray of the hungry waves?

Jessie sprang towards it.

Oh, Peggy, Peggy! some ill has befallen father! Have mercy on us, O Lord, for our trust is in Thee! Father! dearest father!'

(To be continued.)

THE CHILD'S DREAM.

O MOTHER! mother! such a dream

As I have had to-night,

Such fields, such flowers, and such a stream
Of pure and heavenly light!

As I was sleeping on my bed,

A glorious angel came;

His eyes were stars, like gold his hair

He called me by my name.

O mother! once I thought his face
Was like my father's dear;

But then, for tears, I could not trace
What was before so clear.

;

He hung above me, o'er me bent,
As did my father too,

Ere to his lonely grave he went,
Beneath the churchyard yew.

And then what tender words he said,
And what a garland sweet
He gently placed upon my head,
And raised me to my feet!

'My Mary, dear,' he said, 'arise!'
And far away we flew ;

By clouds and stars, among the skies,
All silvery with dew.

And up, and up, and up we soared,
And stars were everywhere;

And mild and murmuring music poured

Along the balmy air.

And of the change I nothing knew—

So beautiful and bright;
But, mother, there I stood below
A throne of burning light.

Angels in thousands crowded round

And bowed before its blaze,

And struck their harps of heavenly sound,
And sung sweet hymns of praise.

One full of radiant beauty, mild,
Was sitting on that throne;

To me, my mother, when He smiled,

My gracious God was known.

E

Presbyterian.

THE TRUE MEMOIRS OF OUR DEAR PETS.

BY ANNA J. BUCKLAND,

AUTHOR OF NOBLE RIVERS AND THEIR STORIES,' ETC.

A

LONG while before we had Sambo, I remember Alfred and Herbert used to be always saying, 'What fun it would be if we could have a donkey! We could ride about upon him in the field; and when we went out for long walks, we could take him with us, and ride by turns.'

But there were two things which we always thought of when we talked together about it: one was, that we did not know of any donkey to be sold; and the other was, that we should never be able to save up enough out of our pocket-money to buy it.

At last, one day when the boys came home from school, they said that they had heard of a man who had a young donkey, which he would sell for fifteen shillings. This was a great deal of money; but hearing that there really was a young donkey to be sold, made us long for it more than ever, and we began to think whether there was any way in which we could get fifteen shillings. Now it happened a little while before, that there had been a concert in the town, at which several people that we knew had played and sung, in order to get some money to procure a band of music for the Volunteers; and all of a sudden it came into our heads that, perhaps, we could have a concert, and get our aunts and cousins to come to it, and by that means we might gain enough money to buy the donkey.

We asked papa and mamma about it, and they made no objection. Papa gave us five shillings at once, as a contribution to the donkey fund; and mamma said she would help us to get up the concert.

Not very long before this, papa had built a new room at the back of the house, on purpose for us children who were not in the nursery. There is no carpet in it or curtains, but only the dining-table, a sideboard, some forms, a piano which papa bought for us, and on which we may practise and strum as much as we like, a beautiful baby-house, which he had put up in a recess on one side of the fire-place, and some book-shelves, in which we keep all our own books. Here Alfred does his chemical experiments, and Herbert makes his machines that he is so fond of, and we play with our dolls or practise upon the piano; and in this room we decided to hold the concert.

The dining-table was taken away, and the space

filled up with forms and chairs; and we decorated the room with evergreens and mottoes. Alfred and Herbert wrote out notices of the concert, and lists of all the pieces to be played or sung, and we sent them round to all our relations in the town. Our six aunts from next door promised to come in, and Aunt Polly and Aunt Nan, who are mamma's sisters, said they would come, and all Uncle William's family; and Cousin Edward sent up to say that he wished to take twelve reserved seats. We wondered at first whether he was going to bring eleven people with him, or whether he wished to lie down full length upon the form; for it was before he had fetched his wife, Cousin Suzanne, over from Switzerland, and before little Amélie was born; so we couldn't think why he should want so many seats for himself. However, we kept one whole form for him; but when he came, he sat in a chair by mamma.

The first piece in the concert was a duet, which mamma and Lily played upon the piano; and then we all joined in 'The Tight Little Island,' and afterwards mamma and Herbert sang a duet together, and we sang some more choruses, and Lily played her last new piece; and then we had some lemonade, and biscuits, and bon-bons for refreshments, as that was the end of the first part.

The second part of the concert was very much the same as the first,-only, of course, we sang different songs and choruses; and when it was over, everybody said they had enjoyed it so much; and we found that we had got quite enough money to buy the donkey. So, the next day, Alfred and Herbert went to the man who wished to sell him, and paid him the fifteen shillings, and brought the donkey home. We called him Sambo; and very soon we all grew so fond of him, and were never tired of riding about upon him. The boys hardly ever went out without taking Sambo with them; sometimes they rode on his back, and sometimes they walked along by his side, with one arm round his neck.

One evening papa asked them to post a letter for him;