wonderful and rapid advances of your people, and in the eagerness to know the truth in all things. We see it in the sudden overthrow of your ancient and powerful system of Buddhism. We see it in the disposition of your government, notwithstanding its former painful experiences with Romanism, now to allow God's gift of eternal life to be as free to the souls of your people as his gifts of air and sunshine to their bodies. We see it in the warm interest which our people feel in you. And we see it in the promises of the inspired Word of God, which speaking of our day, say that "from the rising of the sun to the going down of the same, God's name shall be great among the Gentiles." This points to Japan and our nation on the Pacific coast more than to any other countries; one is the land of the sunrise, the other the land of the sunset. Another prophecy says, that God "will give the uttermost parts of the earth to his Son for his possession;" that was spoken in Palestine, and suits you more than any other portion of the earth. Another prophet speaks of the islands that are afar off, and says: "the isles shall wait for Christ, the sons of strangers shall build up the walls of his church, and their kings shall minister unto her." We believe the time has now come when God will fulfil these promises. We believe that Japan has before her a future of great usefulness to the human race, and of distinguished honor. Insu lar positions upon the globe are those most favorable to the implantation, growth, intensification and dissemination of the truth. Islands are naturally less liable to the invasions of war and the political disturbances which often desolate continental countries. Their isolation from the overwhelming control of neighboring powerful empires grants them more free opportunities to follow the dictates of right. They are less affected by the vices which multiply, and grow strong and rank, amidst great masses of population, and which choke the seed of good. Their people are more thoroughly assimilated in consequence of their narrower limits, and the comparative facility of water communication. The very education of the conflicts of the mighty elements around them tends to make the races which occupy islands more bold, more independent and more interested in religion. Thus it is suggested to us that the island empire of Japan may be to the eastern parts of the continent of Asia what the islands of Great Britain were for many ages to the western part of Europe, or what Madagascar is now to Southern Africa. Japan may have a great office to fill, in the hands of God, in scattering the blessings of modern civilization, and the greater blessings of Christian knowledge over all the empires and nations of the Eastern hemisphere. China, which gave to her Buddhism and Confucianism, may receive partly from her hands Christianity and all its train of benefits to mankind. We trust she will walk hand in hand with America in endeavors to make the whole world wiser, and better, and happier. Permit us to offer the prayer that it may please God to grant all the blessings of earth and heaven, and a long, happy and most useful reign to your august Emperor, and that Providence may favor you with a prosperous issue to your present mission, and a pleasant return to your own country and your families. With great respect, we remain, Your most obedient servants. OUR YOUNG PEOPLE. PRACTICAL AUNT DEB. BY MARY E. DUNBAR. CHAPTER II. HE letter bearing the most recent acteristic of Aunt Deborah, and ran as date read as follows: THE "MY DEAREST EARTHLY FRIEND: follows: 66 Fulfil your promise by all means. Your love for Edith, which has no doubt The path of duty is the path of safety. only temporarily abated, will in time return, I am certain, if you but cherish the remaining spark; for however faint it may now be, it is still capable of being fanned to a flame upon friendship's altar, and not only burn with a steady light, but grow brighter through endless ages. "The bolt has fallen. Edith seeing the drift of affairs, has written to me that her father has at last given his consent to our union-hers and mine. This after keeping me for years in suspense; and now, after my affections have become entirely weaned from her by her own acts, her coldness, and inconsistencies, to say nothing of downright slights, she writes that her father's objections have been over-listened to words of endearment which "As for myself, I ought never to have ruled. "The truth is, that it was not her father's but her own consent she was unable to obtain, hoping for a more advantageous offer. My struggle is now be tween my honor and my love; our marriage, as you are aware, hinging on her father's approval-which appeared unlikely enough. I seem in honor bound to fulfil my promise, and yet-and yet-I have written her, making a plain statement of the case; if she still persists in the insane project of becoming an unloved wife, the fault must lie at its own door. I await an answer from her, which will probably decide the fate of each. "I cannot, under the circumstances, ask you to answer this letter, and yet how greatly would I prize one, for in life or death I am your devoted lover, "BENJAMIN PIERCE." My first thought after reading the above was to find, if possible, my aunt's anIn this I succeeded. It was char swer. belonged of right to another; and shall take up my life-work hopefully—even cheerfully-knowing that whatever befalls me is wisely ordered, and the very path I would have marked out for myself, could I but see the end from the beginning." So this was Aunt Deborah's romance. what became of her hero, and also, of her I wish I could go and ask all about it; rival; but I knew Aunt Deb too well to be over-inquisitive as to her lover, as she might shut down the gates of knowledge altogether. No, no, I must bide my time. The circling years sped on. Benjamin Pierce, junior, as I had secretly dubbed him, had been admitted to the bar-was beginning to be spoken of as a rising mark in the world-had recently gained a young lawyer, a man likely to make his suit for a poor widow, which brought him much fame but little money, unless it might be indirectly. I had a secret in my keeping at this time, and had been studying whether to impart it to aunty at present, or wait for a more convenient season, when a little occurrence brought it about in a most unexpected manner. Mr. Pierce had called one evening, and in the course of conversation mentioned incidentally that he had just received a letter from his father, who was at the time of writing exploring the tombs of the Pharaohs had stood on the summit of Cheops' pyramid-had selected a few relics from the sites of the once famous cities of Memphis and Thebes-had seen the Bedouins of the desert composedly smoking, while the bones of departed royalty served the purpose of firewood with which to prepare their morning meal, and had at sunrise visited the tuneful Memnon, but failed to elicit a sound. His descriptions of the journeying on the "Nile" were to me quite novel, for despite my mistakes as a historian, I had not greatly mended; I still preferred to soar aloft in the airy realms of romance, and had never felt particularly interested to know which of the Pharaohs flourished at a given time, as gleanings pertaining thereto seemed for the most part highly conjectural. I had become so much interested, however, in the letter, or the reader, that I had forgotten Aunt Deborah's presence, and was surprised when upon looking around, to see her lying in a dead faint, prone upon the lounge. I was not a little alarmed, for I had never before seen her exhibit the least symptom of weakness. She soon rallied, however, through remedies applied, but looking paler than I had ever seen her. Mr. Pierce did not further prolong his visit at this time, and having my suspicions as to the cause of her sudden illness, I made no allusion to it. A few days after the events above narrated, I was startled by the entrance of a stranger into our quiet domain, evidently a traveller; he had entered the piazza during a brief absence of aunt and myself, and was apparently intent upon gleaning information from the columns of a last year's newspaper, that aunty had brought from the garret to cover over some recently transplanted flowers. I had stepped into the porch before he seemed aware of my presence, so deep was his absorption. At length be became conscious of my proximity, and rising, made a low and graceful bow, apologizing for intruding upon our quiet unannounced. "Who are you? and why should you be announced?" I mentally questioned, though I blandly assured him it was not of the least consequence, and invited him into the cool, pleasant sitting-room. As we entered, I cast a glance toward where aunty sat on a rustic bench under a clump of lilacs; and what was my chagrin to find her just on the point of swooning again. What on earth possessed Aunt Deb to go galivanting off into a fainting fit, in season and out, and she so staid in all her ways! It seemed rather strange; medical advice must certainly be sought, if this state of things was to continue. Aunt Deborah was by no means sylphlike in form. I was therefore obliged to call in, or out, the assistance of our stranger guest, much to my disgust, though he at once and with seeming ease conveyed her into the room, and placed her upon the lounge, gently as if she had been an infant; and when I returned to the room with no end of water and vinegar and other restoratives, I was dumbfounded to find aunty not only restored to consciousness, but what was worse, or better, leaning with the utmost confidence upon the stranger's shoulder, his arm encircling her plump waist; and as I was beating a hasty retreat. I heard her call him Benjamin dearest, in response to some whispered outpouring of language, very much after the manner of younger lovers. It may as well be stated here as elsewhere, I presume, that our guest was no other than the long lost Edwin, restored to love and his Angelina-figuratively speaking-restored after a sojourn of twenty years in foreign climes, during which time each had thought the other irretrievably lost. Then came mutual explanations. His wife had died soon after the birth of their son, but having seen a notice of the marriage of Deborah Eastbrook in some paper, he immediately set sail for the old world, determined never to return to his native country, and would have adhered to his resolution, but for an incidental remark in a letter from his son, by which he learned that his first love had never wedded. It then occurred to him, what he might have known before, that it was a second cousin of his Deborah, that had made him miserable, and his supposed rival happy. "Call him uncle-daddy, couldn't yer?" a voice called from outside the kitchen window, at which the owner of the voice and the broom went flying down the walk closely pursued by two irate women, and aunty's cheeks wore a bloom, born of mortification, that our little love affairs should thus inopportunely have leaked out, so to speak. Six months passed, and when the Indian summer donned her golden misty veil, Aunt Deb donned the bridal robes, and became Mrs. Benjamin Pierce, senior; and as they stood at the altar, these two long separated though faithful lovers, I could but wonder why I had ever thought dear Aunt Deb plain. She really looked ten "But, aunty," I said next morning as years younger than of yore. Had "time we were doing up the dishes, "it will rolled backward in its flight?" or was it make such a mixed up affair." the transforming power of the tender pas"What will?" she said, looking up in sion that had wrought the change? surprise. They were indeed a handsome pair. "Why, you know, if you marry Mr. He tall, and of commanding presence, Pierce," I stammered. "Why, or what will be mixed up?" she again inquired, still more mystified. "Why, Pierce, senior, will be uncle to his own son, and you will be mother to your own niece," I blundered out. "Matilda-Ann-Hazelrig!" she exclaimed, as she dropped the dishcloth into the water, and stood regarding me something as she might have done a wild animal. "What have I done wrong, aunty dear?" "Done wrong? Is it possible that you are going to marry that young boy?" "Aunt Deborah ?" "What, Matilda Ann ?" with that peculiar air and grace gained by travel, and contact with men of culture. She, with that indescribable something in manner, about which story-tellers rant, but fail to make intelligible to the reader. Then came an extended bridal tour, after which another little affair came off, in which Benjamin, junior, and myself were the principal actors; then another wedding trip, after which we all settled down as became the staid and steady going folk we were. It may be inferred from the description given of Benjamin, junior, at the beginning of this story, that "Is it possible that you are going to he did not enjoy a monopoly of what are marry that old boy?" termed masculine charms; it must, there "Benjamin Pierce, senior, is not old-fore, be stated that that description would scarcely fifty," she answered, severely. "Benjamin Pierce, junior, is not very young-almost twenty-four," I retorted in the same spirit. Returning to the first question, I again asked: "It will be mixed up, won't it, aunty dear? You see he will be our father, as well as our uncle. I mean Benjamin, senior." by no means apply to him at present. In short, he is the very reverse of that picture now. His form has rounded out into most graceful proportions, and his features, if not strictly handsome, have an intellectual cast, and the splendid mustache and heavy flowing beard add not a little to his good looks. "Isn't it strange, Benjy dear," I said THIS "Some to the holly hedge Nestling repair, and to the thicket some; Some to the rude protection of the thorn."-Thomson. HIS principal species of the Holly | Let those naturalists who leave the Creator out of consideration, holding that in the past each species, in the contest for a foothold on the planet, has projected itself forward to its present position, answer the question, What was there in the meddling propensities of animals, or in any of the other circumstances of this tree, calculated. to produce or foster spiny teeth at the edges of the leaves, and above all, to place them just where they were wanted, and there only? is a native of Europe, Asia, and North America. Its foliage may be seen in the illustration on page 227, in which the branch is that of the Holly. It grows sometimes as high as sixty feet, though thirty is the measure most frequently attained. It is a tree that fixes the eye of a stranger at once, on account of the smooth, glossy green leaves, each, at first sight, armed with thorny points. But when we examine the tree or bush more closely, we find that only the ower and outermost leaves have these spiny teeth at their edges; those within and at the top are bordered much the same as other leaves. The arrangement is a striking proof of an All-wise Providence. The thorny points are set only where they are needed, and they are effectual in repelling the sheep, cattle, and other intruders which other wise would ruin the young trees before they could grow beyond their reach, the growth of this tree being remarkably slow. The poet Southey, in a poem longer The eye that contemplates it, well perceives Ordered by an Intelligence so wise, No grazing cattle through their prickly round But as they grow where nothing is to fear, |