a meditation upon some Scripture. And, once fairly launched, she goes on, quite unconsciously to herself, to Boliloquise, often quite audibly, upon the subject of thought. And after spending some time thus employed, hould she come to suspect that there is no prospect of profit, she will not fail to enter a warm protest against uch a manner of spending precious time: after which she will propose a text for discussion, or else call for or Se a hymn.

Everything connected with religion is interesting to her. If she learns of the progress of the Gospel anywhere on earth, she is filled with joy, and thanks the Lord with all her heart. On the other hand, when she hears of persecutions being endured by the people of God, or of professors backsliding or giving evidence of lukewarmness, or of persons endeavouring to shake men's faith in the word of God, she becomes manifestly distressed, and soon betakes herself to a throne of grace.

Much of her time is spent in the ema exercise of prayer. Not that stereotyped, pointless routine which with many passes for prayer, but a real communion of soul with her Father who is in heaven. She has ecific objects in view in drawing Dear unto God; real requests to make known unto him. And many are the individuals for whom, as individuals, she daily wrestles with God in prayer. Nor have her prayers been in vain. She can name manySome of them now gone to their restho, in answer to her prayers, and through her instrumentality, were brought to a knowledge of the truth. One class she never forgets,-the preachers of the Gospel; more especally those of them with whom she is familiar. She enters into their difficulties and discouragements, and sympathizes with them to a degree which very few Christians seem to do. She is never happier-her devotional seasons, of course, excepted

than when she gets herself planted beside one of the "servants of the Lord," as she always calls them, in order to converse on spiritual things. She has often been heard to say that if she had plenty of money, she would in one particular imitate the great ones of the earth-she would keep a chaplain for her own special behoof. On such occasions as that to which we have referred, she has always a list of texts, which the minister must endeavour to expound to her; then Christian experience will be minutely entered into; and, above all, the happiness of the redeemed in the heavenly home will be glowingly dwelt upon.

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When conversing upon the lastmentioned subject, or when she hears it enlarged upon in a public discourse, it is striking to witness the change which comes over her aged features. Rapt into future times," her countenance beams with very joy. As she beholds with the eye of faith "the King in his beauty, and the land that is very far off," in the fulness of her holy joy she simultaneously weeps and laughs. And she has often been heard to say after such happy seasons, that she could wish with all her heart to be at once "absent from the body," that she might be "present with the Lord."

But the desire to depart to be "with Christ, which is far better," seems to be always present to her. Her state of mind on this point was brought out very clearly by an accident which befell her some two years ago. Having been struck by a horse with which she happened to come in contact, so serious were the injuries which she received, that for some time her life was despaired of. But, though her sufferings were so keen that she had but little rest day or night, instead of fretting and murmuring, Kate was in transports of joy. And when the writer saw her, after she had

begun to recover, she stated that when symptoms of returning health

began to manifest themselves she felt sadly disappointed; so much so that she was afraid she might be grieving her Heavenly Father by the reluctance with which she returned to the world. But, to bring our imperfect sketch to a close, Kate was brought out of the furnace like gold tried in the fire. And now, in her seventy-sixth year, she walks two miles to the place of worship; she sings her spiritual songs, if not as melodiously, as heartily and joyously as ever; she holds close and constant fellowship with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ; and, expecting soon to hear a voice from heaven, saying unto her, " Come up hither," she rejoices in hope of the glory of God.

a benevolent claim was laid before him. "The times are so hard, and everything is so high, I hardly see how I am to get along."

God

"Cheer up, Brother Csees. Trust him. Freely have ye received, freely give.' 'He that watereth shall be watered also himself. God loveth a cheerful giver.' How absurd to be drooping, desponding, when our Heavenly Father has so much, and gives to each abundantly!

"See that little fountain yonder, away yonder in the distant mountain, glistening like a thread of silver through the tangled thicket, and sparkling like diamonds in its healthful activity. It is hurrying on with its rippling song to the river. See, it passes a stagnant pool, and the pool hails it :

"Whither away, little streamlet?' "I am going to the river to bear this drop of water God has given

me.'

"Soon the midsummer heat camedown, and it fell upon the little stream. But the trees crowded to its brink and threw out their sheltering branches over it in the day of adversity, for it brought refreshment and life to them; and the sun peeped through its branches, and smiled complacently upon its dimpled face; and the birds sipped its silver tide, the flowers breathed their per fume upon its bosom, the flocks and herds lingered by its banks, the husbandman's eye sparkled with joy as he looked upon the emerald line that marked its course through his fields and meadows; so on it went, blessing and blessed of all.

"And where was the prudent pool? Alas, in its inglorious inactivity_it grew sickly and pestilential. The thirsty cattle put their lips to it, and turned away without drinking. The breeze stooped and kissed it by mistake, but caught the malaria in the contact, and carried the ague through the region, and the inhabitants caught it and had to move away; and at last the frogs cast their venom upon it and deserted it, and heaven, in mercy to man, smote it with & bitter breath, and dried it up.

"And what became of the little stream? you ask. God saw to that. It emptied its full cup into the river,

and the river bore it on to the sea, and the sea welcomed it, and the sun smiled upon the sea, and the sea sent up its incense to greet the sun, and the clouds caught it, and the winds caught the chariots of the clouds and bore them away, away to the very mountain that gave the little fountain birth, and then they tipped the brimming cup. God saw to it all; and the little fountain, though it gave so fully and so freely, never ran dry.

"And if God so blessed the fountain, will he not also bless you, my brother, if you give freely as you have received? Be assured he

will."

ONE OF GOD'S LITTLE ANGELS.

FOR THE YOUNG.

Is a lonely cottage, on the borders of a thick wood, lived an old woman -she was past eighty, bent, infirm, and ailing. She was sitting in her little room, with a book on her knee. No fire in the grate, no bread in the rupboard, no tea in the canister, no blanket on the old bedstead, no, nothing at all did the old woman possess but her large book over which she was poring. The last crust of bread, and the remaining cup of tea, had been consumed the day before. Her last penny was gone, her last blanket was pawned long ago, and nothing now remained but to pawn her book. Would she do so? Wait

pointing to each word

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and see. She read on, with her wrinkled finger. What!" she at last exclaimed, "God has said this, and I so faithless that I have doubted his love: Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Oh, how ungrateful have I been! My God has promised to feed me, and I doubt his word? No, indeed; he has given

me bread for eighty-two years, and he will not leave me now." And then, placing her book on the table, she folded her hands, and looking up to heaven, said, "Merciful God! Thou hast promised to feed those that trust in thee; oh! leave me not, for I look to thee. Oh! send me bread for thy dear Son's sake." Then, rising, she went towards the cupboard, to see if there was one bit of food left. But no, a dry plate, an empty cracked cup, a chipped tea-pot. an old bent spoon, that was all. ́ Ill, hungry, and weak, the old woman sank down on her scanty bed exhausted. Little children, do you ever remember, when you have plenty of good things to eat, warm clothes to wear, and kind friends to love you, that many people have not the necessaries of life? Do you remember the poor? One little girl did that cold day, as we shall see.

"Let us walk through this pretty wood," said Flossy to her governess, as she ran along over the snow, which crackled under her feet.

Little Flossy, on getting up that morning, had, after reading her Bible, knelt down to pray. It was not with her lips only, but with her whole heart, that she repeated her morning prayer. "Oh! thought she, "that I might be of some use in the world," and she poured out her whole soul's desire to her Heavenly Father. "Dear Saviour," she said, "make me thy own child, and help me to please thee. Teach me what I can do for thee, how I can work for thee." And now was her prayer to be answered in that morning walk. They approached the wood, and reached the cottage. Oh! I wonder who lives here," said Flossy; do let me go and see.' Well, you may if you like, and I shall stay outside," said her

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governess.

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She gave a gentle rap at the door, and then opened it. There was the old woman lying on the bed as we

creature. Flossy from that day be came the friend of the old woman, and thus prayer was answered in both cases.

Was Flossy of any use in the world, young readers? What do you think? I am sure you say, "Yes." And can you not be of some use, too? You may not have any old woman to relieve, but there are many other ways of doing good. Only ask God to make you of use in this world, and then look for opportunities, and you will find yourself thinking of other people instead of yourself. And remember this, nobody is too little to be God's ser

vant.

"MASSA, YOU NO UNDER

STAND IT."

THERE once lived in one of our large cities, a poor woman, who had been confined by sickness for nearly twenty years. By the few friends who know her she was familiarly called "Poor Betty." She had seen comfortable days, but had long been blind, and was said to be one hundred and five years old.

Mr. Benson was a man of wealth and business in the same city. His signature was better than silver on the Exchange, because it was more easily transferred; his sails whitened the ocean, his charity gladdened many hearts, and his family gave impulse to many benevolent operations. Notwithstanding the pressure of business, Mr. Benson often found time to drop in and see what became of poor Betty. His voice and even his step had become familiar to her, and always lighted up a smile on her

dark wrinkled face, as he often said some pleasant things to cheer this lonely pilgrim on her way to Zion.

One day Mr. Benson took a friend from the country to see Betty. As he stopped and entered the cottage, he said, "Ah, Betty, you are alive yet." "Yes, tank God," said Betty. "Betty," said he, "why do you sup pose God keeps you so long in this world, poor, and sick, and blind, when you might go to heaven and enjoy so much?"

While Mr. Benson's tone and man ner were half sportive, he yet uttered a serious thought which had more than once come over his mind. Now comes the sermon.

Betty assumed her most serious and animated tone, and replied, "Ah, massa, you no understand it. Dare be two great things to do for de Church-one be TO PRAY for it, toder be TO ACT for it. Now, massa, God keep me alive to pray for de Church, and he keep you alive to act for it."

It

For a few moments Mr. Benson and his friend stood silent, thrilled and astonished. They felt the knowledge, the dignity, and moral subEmity of this short sermon. seemed to draw aside the veil a little, and let them into heaven's mysteries. "Yes, Betty," replied Mr. Benson, in the most serious and subdued tones, "your pravers are of more importance to the Church than my alms."

This short sermon,

preached by poor Betty, was never forgotten by Mr. Benson and his friend. It made them more prayer ful. and more submissive in afflic tions.

A VERSE FOR CHRIST'S
LITTLE ONES.

Jesus bids us shine
With a pure clear light,

Like a little candle
Burning in the night.

THE NEWS FROM JAMAICA.

FOR many weeks after the riot at Morant Bay, the Island of Jamaica was kept under a reign of terror. No maa dared to open his lips publicly against the violent measures of the Government. Even in private life men spoke together as if they feared the walls had ears, dreading sudden arrest, short shrift, and a speedy execution.

Until the last mail England was made acquainted with the proceedings of the Government only so far 13 it pleased Governor Eyre and his Executive to acquaint us with them.

The

correspondence of the Missionry Society with the missionaries, and their letters to friends in this

country, were interrupted and opened in the Island Post Office. This was particularly the case with the letters of three or four brethren on the northern side of the island, and for several weeks rumours were spread all over the country that they would be arrested. Evidence was sought to establish the charge of sedition against them, and, though perfectly innocent of any complicity with, or knowledge of, the events at Morant Bay, it was no fault of Governor Eyre that they were not cast into prison and their lives jeopardised before the reckless courts-martial that have sentenced thousands of harmless persons to ignominious punishment and death.

The tidings that the English people