THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN'S BOAT-SONG.

I heard my Saviour's gentle call
To-night when you were weeping,
'Twas when you let the curtains fall,
And thought that I was sleeping.
All light of day had passed away,
And darkness gathered o'er me,
Until I heard my Saviour's voice
To joy and peace restore me.

I had been moaning where I lay
As hearts will moan in sorrow,
When all life's hopes have passed away

And left none for to-morrow.

Just then a ray of glorious day

Pierced through those clouds of sadness.

O, bless his name! my Saviour came
And filled my heart with gladness.

Now I can rest in his blest peace
While onward we are rowing,
And soon I'll hail the sweet release,
Where winds are never blowing.
Then doubly bright will be the light

When, o'er the death-cold river,

I rest at last, all sorrow past,

All trouble gone for ever!

MARILLA.

SINGING A SONG OF SUNSHINE.

SINGING A SONG OF SUNSHINE.
ON a fine bright day in spring,
Then the birds are on the wing,
Singing out their merry notes
From their music-making throats-

WHERE I WENT AND WHAT I SAW.

is called St. Pierre.

But the main street is a wide

road with many newer good houses and shops. This new town is said to have more people in it than the old city. I was told that about forty years ago two men from Nottingham came here and built a lace factory; now there are many, and a large lace trade is carried on.

My young friends walked back to Calais another way, for they wanted to see some public gardens. I was too tired, and rode back in the bus. I then walked into other parts of the city where I had not been before, and up to the new lighthouse. When I stood looking into a shop window, or at some great building, a few saucy children would come and stare at me, and jabber something about me in French. Perhaps it was my dress that made them try to make out who and what I was. For it is true that I did not meet one old gentleman all that day dressed as I was, though I was only dressed as I had been nearly all my life. But I thought I would be a match for them by saying something that neither they nor myself nor any one else could tell the meaning. So turning to them as if I were angry, I said in a louder voice than usual, aldi-bironti-phosco-phorniochronon-hoton-thologos!" and away they all ran!

66

WHERE I WENT AND WHAT I SAW.

I went back to the coffee-shop, and, to my content, my young friends were not long before they came. At nine o'clock we were sitting at the open window looking down into the spacious market place, when there came a band of soldiers with bugles, who blew out some grand notes to let the soldiers all over the city know that they must go to their quarters. At eleven o'clock we had coffee again, and soon after went down to the steamer; but we had to wait for the mail train from Paris. It was one o'clock before it came; but they soon tumbled the bags and baggage on board, and the cabin was soon filled with passengers. Our steam was up, and we started. It was a dark wet night. Once or twice I went up on deck. O, it was awful!

We could see nothing above or around but the white foam of the water sent off by the paddles. We were dashing along at great speed, and I could not help thinking how dreadful it would be if we ran into another vessel, or it ran into us.

About four o'clock we saw the gas-lights round Dover harbour. We were soon there. Two London trains were waiting on the pier, and in less than ten minutes all the mail-bags, passengers, and luggage, were in their places, and the trains started. Day was breaking as we walked through Dover to the