because he wanted it, but he knew that it would really gratify Snell. Now it so happened that there was another missionarymeeting in Berlin, two months after this time. Snell saw the announcement in the paper, and he determined to go to it. But he felt that he ought to give something if he went. How could he do that? Where would the money come from ? He finally decided on this plan: "I have heretofore made two rounds a day, and yet my profits were sufficient to pay for my donkey and cart, also to support our little family. Hereafter I will make three rounds a day on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and all the profits of the third round shall go to the missionary cause. The missionarymeeting, which was soon to take place, was attended by a large number of persons, among whom was the banker who had bought Snell's donkey and cart. Snell and his little sister were both at the meeting; for having once heard about the heathen, they were always anxious to hear as much more as possible. During the course of the meeting, the president gave an opportunity for any gentleman to make a few remarks, who might desire to do so. The banker arose and presented to the chairman, ninety dollars, and said, "This sum is the fruit of honest toil. It was paid me by a little sand vendor for whom I bought a donkey and cart. I now present it to this Missionary Society, and beg that you will accept it, not from me, but from Snell the sand vendor." Cheers arose all over the house at such a statement. The money was accepted and became a part of the missionary fund. Snell would rather have been a thousand miles away at that time than to have heard those words. For, however anxious he was to help the heathen, he was yet a modest boy, and the mention of his deed and name on that occasion caused him a great deal of trouble. But as soon as he recovered himself, he resolved to say a word to the meeting. He was a frank boy, and the Lord had given him the gift of speaking in public. He then said these words to the meeting: "I am the boy whom the gentleman referred to, and I thank God that He ever gave me such a friend as he was to me. I feel that my donkey and cart are the Lord's property. I have made arrangements for two extra rounds through the week, and all the profits from my sales during the two rounds shall go to this missionary fund!" Cheers loud and long arose in that meeting. The meeting adjourned, and Snell and his little sister went home. Good and noble people now had their eyes on the little sand vendor. His business rapidly increased, and he was compelled in six months' time to purchase another donkey and cart, and hire an assistant. He made the same arrangement for the new donkey and cart that he did for his old ones—the profits of the two extra rounds must go to the Missionary Society. Year after year passed by, and Snell always gave a good sum of money to send the Gospel to the heathen. The Lord prospered him in his business, and his benevolence under circumstances of poverty had its influence upon the wealthy people of Berlin to such an extent that they gave liberally of their ample means for the same good purpose. Snell arose in respectability and importance in the city, and he is now one of the leading men in all movements made for bringing the heathen to a knowledge of Christ. THE DYING MOTHER. A PIOUS mother had two children, a son and daughter. Charles, the son, had left his home and gone to sea. The daughter, Alice, was at home with her mother. The mother was taken ill, and tenderly nursed by Alice; when sinking gradually, she lay near death, and to her great delight, her long lost son returned in time to see her, and better still the prodigal had become a Christian. When she saw and heard her son, she said, "Enough, enough, it is enough;" her countenance lit up with joy. "I am nearly through, but go my son, go my dear Alice, and publish to the mothers of the land, what I have found to be true,' His loving-kindness changes not.' It was thought she had passed away, and then she was heard singing in a faint and yet audible voice, Soon shall I pass this gloomy vale, Soon all my mortal powers must fail; His loving-kindness sing in death. She had often expressed a wish to be able to sing these lines in death's last hour, and she was enabled to do so. To God be all the Praise. A WORD TO BOYS;-BE BRAVE. UCH is the exhortation we would give to the boys of the present day. By bravery we do not mean that courage which nerves a man to go on the battle-field, and face the cannon's mouth, the point of the bayonet, or the death carrying bullet of the rifle. Nor do we mean that which enables men, for the sake of renown, to brave other dangers by sea and by land. We refer to a nobler courage, a greater heroism, a truer bravery. We would that you should have that bravery which would enable you to act rightly and nobly, in the face of sneers and ridicule-in spite of companions who would have you to adopt a more fashionable cause. Some boys think it brave to treat a sister with contempt, a mother with indifference, and a father with disrespect. They think 66 roughness of manner and discourteous action bravery. They would be ashamed to shew any return of affection to a fond sister, any love to a kind and tender mother, or due regard to the wishes of a noble father. How miserably deceived are such! Their fancied bravery is all arrant cowardice. Cowardice! you start at the word, and are on fire in a moment, and would like to shew your bravery by pommelling one well. Nevertheless, it is true. You are cowards, and cowards of the most cowardly description. Your better nature rebels at your conduct, and you would fain act as conscience prompts you, but you are all too cowardly for that. You ask yourselves, " But what would my companions say?" or, "What would people think?” They would laugh at me, and call me a molly or a milksop. They would say I was not out of my mother's leading strings. Hence you speak of your sisters as our girls," of your mother as "old woman," and of your father, as our "old man," or our "governor." You know and feel you are acting wrong. The remembrance of that fond sister's affectionate interest in your welfare; of that loving mother's tender care and solicitude, her anxiety to meet your wants, and ward off disagreements; of that venerable father's toil and labour, of his struggles to procure for you the necessaries of life, his endeavours to secure your position in society, to set you fairly on the road to usefulness, if not to eminence ;—all these, together with the Divine command,-"Honour thy father and thy mother," present themselves to your mind, and warn you of your duty to love, and cherish, and respect those friends; but fear, scorn, and ridicule, restrains you, and you thus act the coward for fear of being thought or called one. The brave boy, however, is superior to this fear. He dares to be thought a coward. Suffering will not induce him to act contrary to his conscience. He regards neither the sneers nor the ridicule of companions, and will not hesitate to do right, even if he has reason to believe, or if he knows, that right-doing is unfashionable, and the performance of it may cause him to appear singular. Boys, again we say, be brave, and be so by acting kindly and affectionately towards your sisters, loving and tenderly towards your mother, and respectfully and obediently towards your father; but, above all, "Love the Lord thy God." Do all these things, and you will be truly brave. THE GARDENER'S DAUGHTER. "Jesus, Thy blood and Righteousness," &c. NE beautiful summer's day, as the Queen * of Prussia, Elizabeth Christiana, was pacing up and down the beautiful walks in her palace garden, enjoyed the perfumed air, and from time to time pausing to look at the lovely flowers or listen to the singing birds; she saw upon the grass a little child, playing with the long stalks and the clover-heads. This was the daughter of one of the gardeners, a little girl about five years of age. The Queen approached the child silently, watched her play for a few minutes, and finally spoke to her. The child replied modestly but fearlessly to all the question asked her. She was a pretty looking little girl, and the queen was so much pleased with her, that she sent the next day one of her ladies to bring her to the palace. The parents were astonished, but they dressed the child, and gave her into the lady's charge. When the little girl reached the palace, the queen was just about sitting down to dinner. She, however, gave order that the child should be brought in to her. Stroking her fresh rosy cheeks, she had *The Queen was the wife of Frederick the 2nd, of Prussia. |