so they went off to the post-office, taking Sambo, as usual, with them. As they were coming back, they passed the house where Aunt Polly and Aunt Nan live; so they took Sambo close up to the door, and then giving a grand rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat with the knocker, they ran round the corner, leaving Sambo standing there. Aunt Nan happened to open the door, and instead of finding some lady or gentleman, she was so surprised to see Sambo's long nose and ears close to the door!

But I must not forget one great adventure which Alfred and Cecil had with Sambo. Cecil was quite a little boy then, not more than eight, and Alfred was about twelve. They used to sleep in the same room; and one night they woke up and began talking about Sambo, for it was just after we had him; when all at once they thought what fun it would be to get up and go out with Sambo in the middle of the night! So they dressed themselves and went downstairs into the kitchen. The fire was quite out, and it was very dark; but they struck a light, and they saw that the time by the kitchen clock was half-past two. Then they opened the hall door, and went out into the field, where they found Sambo. They did not wait to put a saddle on his back; but one of them got upon him, and the other ran by his side, and they went for such a long ride, down the lanes beyond Furze Hill, and round by the mill. It was quite dark; but they were not frightened, and they said they enjoyed it so much.

When they came home they put Sambo into the field, and, being rather tired, they went to bed. They forgot to fasten up the front door again; and papa said it was a great wonder some robbers had not come into the house. It was certainly very wrong of them to go out like that in the middle of the night; but they never thought about that; and as soon as they came down to breakfast the next morning, they told us all about it. Papa and mamma thought they were making it up at first; but they soon found that it was quite true. Then they showed the boys how wrong it was to go out in that way without leave;

and Alfred and Cecil promised they would not do so again.

In a little book called, Little Facts for Little Readers, there is an account of how we weighed Sambo. The book was written by a lady whom mamma knows; and once, while she was staying in the town, mamma happened to tell her about our weighing the donkey, and this lady was so much amused that she put it into this book. We have the book at home, and it is one which we are very fond of reading. As this story about Sambo has been printed already, mamma thinks I had better not write it down again; but rather advise any children who want to read it, to get Little Facts for Little Readers.

We had Sambo altogether for about a year, I think ; and he might have been with us now, perhaps, if it had not been that he had one sad fault-he was discontented. He had a pleasant field to live in, where there were trees for him to lie down under, and nice green grass for him to eat and to roll upon; beside which we were always giving him fruit or cake; and he had no cruel man to beat him, as some poor donkeys have; yet he was not satisfied.

He used to stand all day, when he was not out with us, looking over the hedge into the road, thinking of how he could get away, instead of eating the grass, or lying down in the shade of the walnut tree; and he got so clever at last in making his escape, that sometimes, two or three times in the same week, a little crowd of ragged boys would come marching up the lawn with Sambo, looking very much ashamed in their midst; and then the boys would say 'Please, we found your donkey, all down such a road, or in Mr. Somebody's field, and we've brought him home.' And then they would expect to have sixpence given them for bringing him back.

At length mamma said that she would not pay any more sixpences for Sambo, and she advised us to sell him and get a game of croquet instead. So Sambo was sold. We were very sorry to part with him, for we were all fond of

I do

him; but then he was so discontented and restless. not expect he was half so happy with his new master, as he might have been with us; and I dare say he would often be glad to come back. I think Sambo's life, as far as I know about it, is a warning to people to be satisfied with those things which they have, and not to be always longing for something new and different.

STORIES FROM HISTORY.

LOUIS IX. OF FRANCE.

N days long gone by, when kings, nobles, and people all thought they could do nothing so pleasing to God as to go and fight with the Saracens and drive them from the Holy Land, army after army sailed from all the lands of Europe to engage in the crusades, or wars of the cross. Too many of those princes who thus gave the lives of their brave followers, and in many instances their own also, to obtain possession of Bethlehem and Calvary, knew not

that the true Holy Places are the hearts that are washed in the blood of Jesus, where He lives and reigns by His Holy Spirit; they forgot that their sins of pride, and anger, and revenge were more grievous in His sight than the cruel nails that there had nailed Him to the cross. But all were not so; and brightest and best among these last was King Louis Ix. of France, father to the little prince I am going to tell you of.

King Louis did really desire the glory and honour of God in the crusade which he undertook. We who live in times when God's will, as revealed in His word, is better known, have no doubt that the battles fought in His service

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are battles with sins in our own hearts, and battles with the prince of darkness, won by the arms of light, by letting others see the glory of God in the face of Christ Jesus.' He set out on this expedition in 1248, accompanied by his queen and their children, and by the greater part of the princes and nobles of his kingdom. After a stormy and dangerous voyage they reached Egypt, where the first act of the king was to offer public thanks to God for all His mercies.

He left his family in Egypt, and with his great army soon landed in Palestine. There war, and pestilence, and famine soon thinned its ranks and destroyed its discipline. The king spent all he had in procuring comforts for the sick and wounded; better still, he sat and knelt beside the dying, and told them of the Saviour of sinners; how He who had walked that land, and healed the sick, and raised the dead, was still with them to help, and comfort, and save them; how, washed from all sin in His most precious blood, they might rise from that bed of death to live and reign with Him.

The enemy now pressed closely on this sorely stricken host; but the king would not leave his suffering soldiers. At length, when he did yield to the entreaties of those around him, and retreated with all who could accompany him, it was too late; they were surrounded, and either captured or slain. Orders were immediately given by the fierce Saracen that they must at once renounce the religion of Christ, or suffer a cruel death. But a very few chose life on such terms, and the many were executed without delay. The lives of King Louis and some of his principal nobles were spared, in the hope of obtaining a large sum of money as their ransom.

During these sad weeks and months the poor queen and her children remained at Damietta, hearing from time to time of these disasters. While there, a little son was born to her, to whom, in her sorrow, she gave the name of Tristan, the sorrowful,-a name well suited to a child who, at his entrance into this world, was surrounded by

all the horrors of war, and famine, and pestilence. But little he heeded it all: had he not a mother's tender love and care? And his unconsciousness at times beguiled even her into forgetfulness of her trouble.

By the exertions of the queen mother, and the devotion of his people, the king's ransom was soon collected; and hastening to his wife, still at Damietta, he then first embraced his infant son. Then they all embarked to return to France; but the dangers from which they had just escaped were succeeded by dangers of wind and wave. All on board were full of terror at the storm; Louis and his wife alone were calm; they knew the God who ruled the waves was their Father. 'We must be lost; there is no hope now! Shall I wake the children?' asked one of the attendant ladies. 'There is no need,' their mother calmly replied; they will wake in heaven.' But the storm subsided, the ship was saved, and they all reached France in safety.

For thirteen years the young prince, with the name that was a continual memorial of past sorrows, lived happily with his dear parents, either at St. Denis or at Fontainebleau. His father, amidst the cares of his high position, found time to train his children in the love of God. Every evening he taught them from God's holy word, and listened as they repeated their prayers; he took them with him in his frequent visits to the poor and the sick. His youngest son, our Tristan, especially was his companion in these visits of mercy. He sat with his royal father beside the poor sufferer in the hospitals, and helped him to minister to their relief, and heard while he told them of a happier world where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, and how an entrance into that bright world had been won for them by Him who Himself had been a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.'

But, better than by words, did this king teach his children by his bright example. They knew that his days being occupied by the affairs of his kingdom, like his Divine