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large part of his fortune he left to Chinese Missions; so that, even now, through him the gospel is being preached in the land he loved, and many are being turned to the Lord. We heard lately that, in Amoy, a Chinese Biblewoman now labours along with the missionaries, and does much good amongst her country-women. Would you like to know her name? It is a very curious one. She is called Tan-Kang-Chem !

Dear readers, our short sketches of Mr Sandeman's life are finished; but we hope his holy walk, and loving words and action, will not soon be forgotten by you. When you hear the name of China,-receive, it may be, letters from dear ones there,—or look at the many beautiful articles of workmanship exported from that land, think of Mr Sandeman, and join your voice (even though that of a child's) to the voices of many who have caught the echo of the missionary's last prayer, and seek 'showers of blessings from God on China and the Chinese.' Mr Sandeman's life was a short one; yet how much he did in it for the glory of God! 'Go thou and do likewise.' Even a child can do something for the advancement of Christ's kingdom. Think of the two little boys and their half-crowns, and do what you can. • Have you ever brought a penny to the missionary box ? A penny which you might have spent, like other little folks ? And when it falls amongst the rest, have you ever heard a ring, Like a pleasant song of welcome, which the other pennies sing ? • This is missionary music, and it has a pleasant sound; For pennies make a shilling, and shillings make a pound; And many pounds together, the gospel news will send, Which tells the distant heathen that the Saviour is their Friend.'

L

FABLES FROM THE FARM-YARD.

BY MONA B. BICKERSTAFFE,
AUTHOR OF 'ARAKI THE DAIMIO,' ETC.

NO. I.

SNOWBALL ; OR, THE GREEDY YOUNG DUCK.

N a pleasant county of England, among hop

gardens and green shady lanes, stands a comfortable farm-house, known by all the people in the neighbourhood as the 'Holly-tree

Farm.' I suppose the reason that it was given that name was because of the two fine old holly

trees which grew on either side of the gateway leading into the farmyard.

Little boys and girls all know what a holly-tree is : how prettily its dark green leaves shine in the summer sun, and how gay the scarlet berries look at Christmas-time. When peeping through the prickly foliage, they seem to mock at the little hands stretched out to gather them, and to say, 'Ha, ha, my

little friend, I'll scratch you if you meddle with me.' Yet daring little hands do gather them, and get well pricked for their pains; but what care they for that, if they have secured a beautiful scarlet cluster to add to the Christmas bough?

But I am wandering away from

my story, which is not of the holly-tree, but of the Holly-tree Farm. And a busy place that farm is,-busy, and noisy too; and we can

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not much wonder at its being a little of the latter, when we remember what a number of families find a home within its walls. Ah, that makes you stare. A number of families ! when you know for certain that only farmer Hodgson, his wife, three children, and a few servants live in the farm-house. Yes, you are quite right, only one family occupies the dwelling-house, but a great many other families are comfortably housed round about it. There are ever so many cocks and hens, ducks and geese, turkeys and guinea-fowls, pigeons and peafowls too ; besides the horses and cows, pigs and sheep, not forgetting the old sheep-dog Bess, who (with her two little pups) lives in a very smart kennel close by the garden wall. It is very well that all these different families do not remain at home during the day-time; for were they to be calling to each other all the day long, there would be a pretty din about the place. As it is, you know the horses go out to work in the fields; the cows, after they are milked, are driven out to their pasturage ; the turkeys and other poultry wander about the lane; while the ducks and geese betake themselves to the pond, or go puddling about in the ditches, seeking water-snails and other food that they like. So, very few of the creatures remain altogether at the farm-yard; still there is a good deal of noise about the place, pleasant homely noise,-sounds that tell of busy hands, and cheerful hearts too.

I told you that there is a great pond for the ducks and geese. It is in the lane just outside the gate, and is a very nice place for them to swim about in and enjoy the water. It is tolerably deep too, as a little boy of my acquaintance can tell, who (for want of better amusement, I suppose) got

Ι into his baby brother's perambulator, wheeled it into the pond and upset it, sending himself splash into the water. Ah, what a sousing he did get! You would have laughed had you seen him when nurse picked him out, all covered with slimy mud and green pond weed.

The ducks and geese made a great quacking and cackling when they saw him: no doubt they wondered what sort of a creature he could possibly be. Master Dick made a fine noise too, and bo-hoo-ed very loudly when he found that he was to be put to bed at once, and would be obliged to stay there for the rest of the day. He was lodging at the farm just then, which was very fortunate, for he would have been a pretty pickle to be seen by strangers who might not know what had happened to him.

Well, as I said, the ducks made a great quacking when they saw him; and now I must tell you that this little story is about those very ducks. There was a fine family of them : two or three elderly Mrs Ducks, an old drake, and a number of grown-up sons and daughters. There were brown and black, and black and white, and brown anri white; but the prettiest of them all was one round fat little creature dressed in pure white feathers, with the most beautiful orange bill, and stockings of the same gay colour. She looked like a snow-flake tipped with gold, as she sailed about on the water ; while every one that passed by admired her, and said what a perfect little beauty she was. The children at the farm called her Snowball, and always took their young friends to the pond to see their white favourite. But they did not know what naughty ways she had, or they would not have liked her so much ; for, in my opinion, it is better to be well-mannered and good, than to be ever so beautiful in appearance only.

Now little Miss Snowball, though very nice and pretty to look at, was anything but nice in her habits,-in fact, she was a sad glutton; and whenever anything particularly good to eat came in her way, she would gobble and gobble until she positively could eat no more.

Her mother Mrs Duck being a very wise old bird, was always warning her against being so greedy; but Miss Snowball did not care to listen to advice, -indeed, I grieve to say, it only made her eat the more. I hope, my little friends, that none of you are inclined to be greedy; for there is nothing more painful than to see a child eating up all the pastry and sweets within his reach, and not caring to share his good things with others, who perhaps may not have had any. If such little boy or girl read this little tale, I hope they may learn a lesson from the fate of greedy Miss Snowball.

One fine summer morning, farmer Hodgson, who had just come in from looking at the fruit ripening in his garden, called to his eldest children, who, having finished their breakfast, were just giving a few lettuce leaves to their rabbits.

‘Come here, my dears,' said their father; 'I have something for you to do.'

Now Annie and Charlie were good children, and always selt proud to find themselves useful either to their father or any one else ; so they quickly shut up their rabbit hutch and ran to him.

• What is it, papa ?' said they both in a breath.

“What is it, you eager young rogues ! well, it is nothing very great after all, but I want it to be well done ; and if you do

do it well, you shall have a plateful of strawberries apiece. Go into the garden, to the south wall, where the peaches and nectarines are, and look well for all the snails great and small that you can find d; peer

into

every nook and cranny where any can hide, pick them all off, and collect them in that large flower-pot, and then throw them to the ducks. There, now, be off with you; and, mind, not one snail escapes, for if they are not destroyed, we shall have a poor account of our wall fruit by and by.'

Away ran the children, all eager to perform their task, and not a little stimulated by the prospect of strawberries. It took them some time to collect all the snails, for Charlie had to climb up a ladder to reach the higher parts of the wall; but when the flower-pot was quite full, they knew that they had done enough for that morning.

* Now, then,' said they, where are the ducks ?'

" Ah! there among the cabbages, I see something white moving about, and I am sure it is Snowball,' said Annie.

It was Miss Snowball, who, finding the garden gate partly open, had squeezed herself in, knowing that she would find some dainty morsels in the way of slugs and fat green caterpillars among the cabbage leaves. Of

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