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Tread softly. Here lies the form

Of one who was my sister,

Cold in death.

Oft she hath chased me with those tiny feet,

And oft her voice was raised with mine

In joyous laughter; but now no more 'tis heard,

Her lips are sealed in death.

Like the day spring.

Where'er she went was happiness and joy!

Was any sad—she wiped his tears away,

And kissed him well again. Then tried

A thousand childish, loving tricks

To raise a smile. Alas! alas!

No smile is on her face; but that with which

She welcomed death.

He came: The messenger of one

Who loved her more than we.

We loved her much; but Jesus loved her more.

For this He took her to himself

From this dark world of misery and sin,

Spotless and pure, through his own blood,

And meet for heaven.

This is a lesson hard to learn,

To bow beneath a heavy stroke

Of chastisement and not repine.

Her loss is great to us: the gain

Is greater far to her.

She was too frail a bark for this rough sea;

But He in mercy sheltered her,

Then let his will be done!


I was sitting by a window in the second story of one of the large boarding houses at Saratoga Springs, thinking of absent friends, when I heard shouts of children from the piazza beneath me.

"Oh, yes, that's capital! so we will! Come on now' There's William Hale! Come on "William, we're going to have a ride ou the circular railway. Come with us."

"Yes, if my mother is willing. I will run and ask her." replied Willian.

"Oh, oh ! so you must run and ask your ma. Great baby—run along and ask your ma! Ain't you ashamed '• I didn't ask my mother."

"Nor I,—nor I," added half a dozen voices. "Be a man, William," cried the first voice. "Come along with us, if you don't wish to be called a coward so long as you live. Don't you see we are all waiting?"

I leaned forward to catch a view of the children, and.

saw William standing with one foot advanced, and his hand

firmly clenched, in the midst of the group. He was a

, fine subject for a painter, just at that moment. Hi=

flushed brow, flashing eye, compressed lip, and changus

j cheek, all told how that word coward was rankling in his

I breast. Will he prove himself indeed one, by yielding to

j them ? thought I. It was with breathless interest I list

I ened for his answer, for I feared that the evil principle in

his heart would be stronger than the good. But no.

"I will not go without asking my mother," said the noble boy, his voice trembling with emotian, " and I am no coward either. I promised her I would not go from the house without her permission, and I should be a ha* coward if I were to tell her a wicked lie."

There was something commanding in his tone, which made the noisy children mute. It was the power of a strong soul over the weaker, and they involuntarily yielded him the tribute of respect.

I saw him in the evening among the gathered multitude in the parlour. He was walking by his mother's side—1 stately matron, clad in widow's weeds. It was will evident pride she looked on her graceful boy, whose fa« was one of the finest I ever saw, fairly radiant with animation and intelligence. Wellmight she be happy in such a son—one who could dare to do right, when all tempting to the wrong.


"Have you seen my Beautiful Ones?" i

Said the mother bereaved, to Earth;
"Have you not missed them in valley and glen?

Turn not your flowers to seek them again 1
Lose not your echoes their mirth 1"

The Earth looked up with smiling face,
But told not of treasures in trust;

Of small, dimpled hands clinging close to her
Of young, sunny heads on green pillows that rest,

Of Beauty asleep in the dust.

"Have you seen my Beautiful Ones?"

The mother to Sorrow then said;
Whose head was bowed low, her tears falling fast;

She said, " I have seen them; a spectre strode past,
And your babes by the hand swiftly led!"
Then the mother for her Beautiful Ones,

Wept with tears gushing forth like the rain;
She sought the low mounds in the gloomy

And she cried out, " O Earth," as she knelt on the

"Restore me my loved ones again!"

"I have seen your Beautiful Ones,"
Said Faith, drawing near to her side;

"They passed from earth with a form clad in white, (For to me the blest vision was given ;)

A voice I heard as they passed from your sight, "Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven!"




Fanny Grey was a bright, happy little girl, who laughed and chattered from mor n until night, except when she was obliged to be quiet. That was the hardest work she had to do— as hard for her as it would be for older persons to caper about as she did all day long. Sometimes she would: ask her grandmamma if she was not a good girl, and the answer almost always was, " Yes, very good, when you are asleep." When her grandpapa was reading the newspaper aloud she would take her little chair, and promise to lit very still; but, before he had read half a dozen lines, she would creep under the table to stroke the cat that lay there fast asleep, and then whisper to her mother to see how pretty its nice soft fur did look

Fanny had a present one day of a china mug that pleased her very much. On the outside of it was a picture of two little girls playing graces. One of these, she said was herself, and the other her little cousin Mabel. She begged Susan, the maid, to be sure and ill ways wash their faces clean when she washed the breakfast things ; and she charged her a good many times to take good care of the mug, and not let it get broken. She thought the niw fresh milk tasted better out of that mug than it ever had before, and the pleasure she took in it seemed likely never to grow less.

But by-and-bye an accident occurred, that was verj hard for the little girl to bear. She happened to go into the dining-room one day, just before dinner, and stopped as usual, to give her mug an admiring glance. It was there, to be sure, close to her plate, where it always stoodI but it was sadly injured. A piece was broken off the rim and a large crack ran from the top to the bottom.

How do you think Fanny felt when she saw this? Did she get angry, and say it was a shame for any one to break her mug, or did she cry and fret about it 1 She did neither; but, going into the kitchen, where the servants were busy preparing dinner, she asked "Who broke my mug f" No I one answered, and she asked again, " Who broke my mug? Finding that no one was inclined to tell her, she said very pleasantly, " Well it is broken, and I forgive whoever did it." Then Susan began to wipe away some tears, and she said, " It was I, Miss Fanny, who broke it ; but I never will forget your kindness, in not being angry with me."

Then Fanny ran off to tell her mother all about it, and forget her own sorrow as well as she could. Sometime:

\\ she cannot help but think of it, when she is sitting at the table to eat her meals.

But she is kind-hearted, and never reminds Susan of her carelessness. Perhaps some little girls who read this story will say it is not true, and there is no such little girl as Fanny ; but we assure them that we know her very well, and have often seen the china mug with the crack in it.

If any of you are tempted to fret or be angry when any one, by accident, breaks something you value, try to be like Fanny, and have a forgiving spirit. It is good.—Protestant Churchman. I


"Whose experience as a Christian has not confirmed this j truth 1 A man seeks some blessing at the throne of grace. He prays, and prays again, but there is none to answer, j nor any sign that his prayers have reached the ears of Him to whom they are directed. He grows impatient, j and at last weary. He believes that it is not the will of God that he should have the blessing sought, and after many a struggle with his rebellious heart, makes up his mind to live without it. The matter may have almost passed from his mind, when suddenly, and without any of the signs that he imagined would indicate its approach, he finds that the long sought blessing has come from some quarter least thought of, and his prayer is answered. He learns, in his own experience, that "the kingdom of God Cometh not with observation." "Thou thoughtest," said the Most High to Israel, "that 1 was altogether such an one as thyself." But God is in His nature and mode of blessing unlike the world, and different signs from theirs herald His kingdom and His blessings.

Pastor and people may unite to seek the converting influence of the Spirit upon a community, and feel as if an interest that lies so near the heart, and is so much in accordance with the purposes of God must be regarded. Yet summer and winter pass with none of the signs that they suppose ought to precede so great and good a work. Many grow weary and some may begin to doubt whether God i

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