said the number was complete for the present; and when I heard that, my heart began to cry, and has been crying all day." Are you, then, very desirous to come to my school?" I asked. "My desire," said he, "is very great." I promised to inquire about his conduct while in the settlement school, and if I found he had a good character, I would gratify his wish. Inquiries were made with satisfactory results, and he was soon in my school. Here he gave diligent attention to reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, history, and other branches of instruction, but did not neglect his office of "bell-ringer." Every morning he was seen beating the wooden gong, calling the children of the settlement school to instruction, and then attending his own. One night, when he was about fourteen years old, he visited me, and said he had a manga manoke iti,—a little thought he wished me to know. I inquired what it was; and he said he should like to become a tangata no te Atua―a man of God. I assured him that was not a little thought, but a great and good desire, and the great object God had in view in loving us. After some further conversation, he said, "I would like soon to join the church." I then said, "you must remember that merely becoming a member of God's church will not make you a man of God." "No," he replied, "I know that; I have given myself to God, and now wish to unite with his people."

Months rolled on, when one night he again came to me, and said he had now been a long time under instruction; he trusted the advantages he had enjoyed had not been entirely profitless; and he was now desirous to give himself to the work of God among the heathen, and if I thought him quali

fied he wished to be admitted into the college for the education of native teachers and pastors. This application was not unexpected by me, so shortly after he was transferred from the school to the institution.

Early in 1852, the missionary ship being expected to call at Rarotonga, on her return voyage from England to the heathen lands westward, Akatangi, with others, was appointed to proceed in her as a native missionary. He wept tears of joy, and said it had long been his desire to be the first teacher to some savage cannibal people, who had not yet heard the gospel of Jesus. In March 1852, the missionary ship, with Akatangi on board, sailed from Rarotonga to the heathen land of the New Hebrides, 2500 miles distant, followed by the prayers of the churches of Rarotonga. After calling at Samoa, they proceeded to those shores to teach the very men who had murdered Williams and Harris; and here, in company with another teacher, he is labouring to impart the knowledge of God, and of Jesus Christ whom he has sent.

CHRISTMAS EVE.

BY JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE.

CHRISTMAS EVE came to us darkly,
Darkly to our cottage door,

Not with brave and boisterous greeting,
As it used to come of yore;

Not with soft and silent snow-fall,
Nor with frost-wind, brisk and keen,
Yet it brought its berries blushing
'Mid the holly, hale and green.
Many busy footsteps pattered

Through our little thoroughfare,
Children sent on pleasant errands
For the dainties they must share;

Ashton-under-Lyne.

Young and female forms were flitting,
Gaily flitting to and fro,

With a quick throb in their bosoms,
With their faces in a glow.

And the clean and cheerful windows
Gleamed upon the sombre night,
And commingled voices round me
Told of leisure and delight:
Genial voices linked together

In some quaint and homely rhyme,
In some old and hopeful carol
Fitted for the holy time.

In that little street of workers,
Brightening up from side to side,
One poor dwelling showed no signal
Of the merry Christmas-tide.
Feebly shone the single taper

By the hearthstone, cold and bare,
Poverty and tribulation

Hung their mournful banners there.

A forlorn and friendless widow

Gazed upon her only boy,

Whose young stream of life was ebbing
Back into a realm of joy;

And as Time, with stealthy footstep,
Strode into another day,

Death stood by that lonely mourner,
For the life had ebbed away.

With the first burst of her anguish,
"Hark, what news the angels bring!"

Rang from loud and joyous voices,
Mixed with tuneful flute and string;
And she thought she heard her darling,
High among the radiant spheres,
Singing with melodious gladness-
"Mother, mother, dry your tears!"

And she dried them, and subdued them,
Kept their fountains sealed within,
Lest her unavailing sorrow

Should be written down as sin;
But the cheering faith came o'er her
That she was not all alone,
That the God-Child of the manger
Had the keeping of her own.

THE CRIMEAN LETTER;

OR, A TALE OF THE WAR.

In less than two years the dreadful war with Russia has filled many hearts in England with sorrow and sadness. This is always the case when war is raging, and cutting down not only thousands of common soldiers, but hundreds of officers too.

Many a humble fireside in our land has had to mourn the loss of a husband or a brother, and many a noble house has put on its signs of mourning for one of its relatives. And so cruel war makes rich and poor weep together.

Two years ago many a young officer, who had just entered the army full of life and spirits, with his sword, and silken sash, and golden epaulettes, no doubt thought it a fine thing to take command of his company and go to fight the Russians.

We may easily imagine such a case, for there have been many. Lieutenant Frederick S, we will call him, for we must not give all his names, was an ardent high spirited youth, with his head full of strange notions of the glory and honour of war. His friends were rich people, and at his earnest request bought him a lieutenant's commission in the army. He had a sister, who, a few weeks before, was married to Sir Edward F 9 a young member of parliament who had voted for the war. His sister, Lady F——————, did all she could to dissuade her brother from going, but Sir Edward advised him to go, and he went.

When the steam vessel which conveyed his regiment arrived at Turkey, he sent his brother-in-law and sister a long letter telling all about the voyage round by Gibraltar to Malta, and then past Greece to Gallipoli. After this he sent more letters informing them of their voyage to Varna, and how they soon expected to go to Silistria and help the Turks to drive off the Russians; then they heard nothing for some time, and at last a letter came saying what he and hundreds more had suffered from sickness; but he was now