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The word roused the failing, fainting spirit. He poured forth a few energetic sentences of that wondrous One, -his life, his death, his everlasting presence, and power to save.

They wept, both the two savage men.

"Why didn't I never hear this before ?' said Sambo; ' but I do believe !—I can't help it! Lord Jesus, have mercy on us !'

Poor critters !' said Tom, 'I'd be willing to bar all I have, if it'll only bring ye to Christ! 0, Lord! give me these two more souls, I pray!

That prayer was answered !"

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It was a bitter, biting morn one February day,
We went to school as usual but did not stop to play,
For the snow came down so thick and fast, and covered road and meadow,
And every where 'twas ankle deep,-oh, it was such dreary weather!
But some there were who merrily did play, and laugh, and shout,
And tried to catch the falling flakes, and throw snowballs about:
But neither of us then did know, or in the least imagines
While we were hurrying off to school, that dear one rose to heaven.
We went to learn a little more about our duties here;
She went up to a better world to see the glory there;
While we went shivering to school she passed through death's cold river,
And soon learnt more than if she'd stayed in this low world for ever.

Our mother loved her very much, and thinks of times gone by,
When she often used to visit us ;-this makes our mother cry.
When little George and Jane were bad, and Johnny sickened too,
That mother feared they all would die, and knew not what to do.
And when the measles were about, and all of us were bad,
And afterwards came hooping-cough, -our mother did feel sad;
For then we could not leave our beds, our eyes and throats so sore,
We coughed until we brought up blood as we had ne'er before :
Then this dear friend would often come, tell mother what to do,
And give us healing medicines, and many nice things too.
She knows not what she should have done, our mother often says,
If that dear one had never come and helped her through those days :
She spent her life in doing good, and loving care did take
To help the poor, and teach the young, and all for Jesus' sake.
Wherever sickness, want, or care, or iguorance prevailed,
Her counsel, aid, and prayer would bless when other means had failed:
She used to visit us at school almost on every day,
For she could find both will and time and something good to say ;
And often when we've been at home, at dinner or at tea,
Or walking in the street, she'd stop to talk to Jane and me.
How often with her soft white hand she has smoothed our foreheads down,
Or patted us beneath the chin, and smiled away a frown;
We never felt afraid of her, she spoke so lovingly;
And none were ever rude to her, or ever thought to be.
She was not proud in any thing, but every where the same;
And all were glad to hear her voice whene'er, where'er she came.
Well, we shall miss her from our school, and miss her where we play,
And miss her from our own fireside, and miss her every day.
Wyton, Hunts.


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And looks the whole world in the face,

For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,

You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,

With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,

When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school

Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,

And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly

Like chaff from a thrashing floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,

And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach:

He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,

And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice

Singing in Paradise !
He needs must think of her once more,

How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard rough hand he wipes

A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin,

Each evening sees its close :
Something attempted, something done,

Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,

For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life

Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped

Each burning deed and thought!


I ac

AKATANGI, THE BELL-RINGER OF ERROMANGA. In the year 1840, I was one day sitting in my study at my station, Avorangi, in Rarotonga, when a little boy came and knocked at the door. I asked him his errand when he came in, and he said he had been thinking for a long time that he would like to do something for the house of God. Rather surprised at such a proposition, I asked him what he thought he could do? He replied that he would like to ring the bell. Now we had at that time no metal bells, but a kind of wooden gong for the purpose. It was a piece of hard wood three feet long, and hollowed out, which being struck with a small bar of iron-wood makes a sharp shrill sound which may be heard nearly two miles distant. cepted his offer, and in a few days Akatangi, for that was his name, was made“ bell-ringer;" and as I have gone to the services, I have been delighted to see him beating the gong with all his might, his whole soul beaming in his eye with delight in being thus employed in the service of God.

About two years afterwards, I established a boarding school for the better education of a few lads of promise who were in the settlement school. The evening after the boys had been selected, Akatangi came to my house looking very sorrowful, and on iny enquiring the cause, he said, “ Alas! my heart has been crying all day.” Why so ?" said I; to which he answered, “you were at the settlement school this morning, and you chose Tekao, and Nootia, and others, to come to your new school. All the time I kept looking at you, and thought I would like to come with them, but you

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