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be no my

“Perhaps, then, he is your elder brother ?” “No, massa, he no my broder." “Then he must be your uncle or some other relation ?"

“No, massa, he be no of my kindred at all; he

friend.” “Why, then, do you bestow on him so much care and attention ?” “0, massa,” replied the slave, "he be my old enemy; he sold me to the slave-dealer; and my Bible tell me to love my enemy; when he hungry, feed him, when he thirst, give him drink; and so me only do what my Bible tell me.


A SLAVE'S PRAYER OVERHEARD.-A wealthy planter in the South, who had a great number of slaves, found one of them reading the Bible, and reproved him for the neglect of his work, saying there was time enough on Sundays for reading the Bible, and that on other days he ought to be in the tobacco house. The slave repeating the offence, he ordered him to be whipped. Going near the place of punishment, soon after its infliction, curiosity led him to listen to a voice engaged in prayer; and he heard the poor black implore the Almighty to forgive the injustice of his master, to touch his heart with a sense of his sin, and to make him a good christian. Struck with remorse, he made an immediate change in his life, which had been careless and dissipated, burnt his profane books and cards, liberated all his slaves, and appeared now to study how to render his wealth and talents useful to others.

LET CHILDREN SING. All children can learn to sing if they commence in season. We do not say all will have the sweet voice of the nightingale, for some have naturally sweet, mild, and soft voices, when they talk, while others speak in loud, strong, and masculine tones. The same is true in regard to singing.

In Germany every child is taught to use its voice while young In their schools all join in singing as a regular exercise, as much as they attend to the study of geography; and in their churches the singing is not confined to a choir, who sit apart from the others, perhaps in one corner of the place, but there is a vast tide of incense going up to God from

every heart which can thus give utterance to this language of the soul.

Children sing! yes, sing with all your hearts. David sang before the Lord, and it is meet that you should do the same; and always, when angry feelings rise in your breasts, curb and check them by singing sweet and cheerful songs.


CLIMBING THE LADDER JACOB SAW. In the year 1830 there lived a little boy who spent all his sabbaths in studying the Bible, in which he felt the greatest interest. To be free from interruption, he would repair to the garret; and that no one might find him, he used to take the ladder up after him. This little boy loved Jesus Christ, and delighted to do his will. He had read those words of the Saviour, “ And when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father in secret.” He had no closet, but he could climb into a garret by means of a ladder; and that he might study the Bible, and pray to God in secret, he took the ladder up after him. In 1831, this youth died-he climbed over into heaven. He is now enjoying the presence of Jesus in a mansion where he needs no ladder, but, free from the approach of interruption, can unite with angelic spirits in praise to the God of the Bible, and in adoring the love of that Saviour who died that even a little child believing on him might inherit the kingdom of heaven.


ALONE I walked on the ocean strand,
A pearly shell was in my hand,
I stooped and wrote upon the sand

My name, the year, and day:
As onward from the spot I passed,
One lingering look bebind I cast,
A wave came rolling high and fast,

And washed my lines away.
And so methought, 'Twill quickly be
With every mark on earth from me!
A wave of dark oblivion's sea

Will sweep across the place
Where I have trod the sandy shore
of time, and been to me no more;
Of me, my day, the name I bore,

To leave no track or trace.

And yet with Him who counts the sands,
And holds the water in his hands,
I know a lasting record stands,

Inscribed against my name,
Of all this mortal part has wrought,
Of all this thinking soul has thought,
And from these fleeting moments caught,

For honour or for shame.



By cool Siloam's shady fountain,

How sweet the lily grows!
How sweet the breath on yonder mountain
Of Sharon's dewy rose !

Lo! such the child whose young devotion,

The path of peace has trod;
Whose secret soul's instinctive motion

Tends upward to its God.

By cool Siloam's shady fountain

The lily must decay;
The rose that blooms on yonder mountain,

Must shortly fade away.

A little while, the bitter morrow

Of man's maturer age,
Will shake the soul with cank'ring sorrow,

And passion's stormy rage.

Oh THOU! whose every year, untainted

In changeless virtue shone,
Preserve the flowers thy grace has planted,

And keep them still thine own.


GOING TO SEE THE BEES. “FANNY," said Henry to his sister, “I have been reading about the bees in one of my little books, and I have been getting off those pretty verses—

How doth the little busy bee improve each shining hour,

And gather honey all the day from every opening flower;' and I thought I should like to see the little creatures at work at their hives when they go in and out. Mrs. Johnson has got some bees in her garden; do you think she would let us go and look at them ?”

“I will ask her,” said Fanny, who soon came back again and told Henry that Mrs. Johnson had given her consent; but she said they must go very quietly and then the bees would not sting them.

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