outlay of funds expended upon our mission. These facts our missionaries have repeatedly asserted. The churches at home have indorsed the same. More could have been

done in the way of schools, but only with a greater outlay of money, which our treasury would not, in the judgment of the Executive Committee, have warranted. The time is come, however, when our schools, to be more efficient, must be better supported. What will you bid us do? "Go forward," you will say, for progress is your practice, and onward your motto, if ye belong to Christ. Well, we are not the leaders in this great and good work, but some of you were. We are your successors, and we pledge you, God's grace assisting us, we will not be behind you in any one good thing. Say you go forward? We will, conditionally, if you will go with us, if you will help us with your prayers, with laborers, and with means, and we will join our hearts in holy concert of prayer, that the presence of Jesus Jehovah may also go with us, and with you, beloved

in the Lord.-Amen.

THE POOR GIRL AND THE ANGELS.

"Sleep, saintly poor one! sleep, sleep on, And, waking, find thy labors done." CHARLES LAMB.

E never remember seeing any notice

WR

of the dear old legend we are about to relate, save in some brief and exquisite lines of Charles Lamb; and yet how simply and quaintly it confirms our childhood's faith, when heaven seemed so much nearer to earth than it has ever been since, and we verily believe that the angels watched over the good and pure of heart!

Once upon a time there lived in a far-off country place, the name of which has long since passed into oblivion, a young girl whom we shall call Alice, with an aged and bedrid mother dependent upon her exertions for their sole support. And although at all periods they fared hardly enough, and sometimes even wanted for bread, Alice never suffered herself to be cast down, placing her whole trust in Him who “tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." And when

better days came again, who so glad and thankful as that young girl?

It may be all very pretty and picturesque for poets and artists to picture to themselves calm, peaceful scenes of rural loveliness, in the foreground of which they generally place some happy village maid, sitting in the cottage porch at the sunset hour, and singing merrily at her wheel; even as bright-eyed and glad-hearted damsels of our own times take up their sewing only as a pleasant excuse to be silent and alone, that they may indulge in sweet and gentle musing. But let us not forget that that which is a pastime to the few, may be to the many a weary and never-ending toil! engrossing the day that seems so long, and yet it is not half long enough for all they have to do; breaking into the quiet hours set apart by nature for rest, and mingling even with their troubled dreams.

Thus it was oftentimes with our poor heroine.

And yet she sang, too, but generally hymns, for such sprang most readily to her lips, and seemed most in harmony with her lonely and toilsome life; while her aged mother would lie for hours listening to what seemed to her as a gush of sweet, prayerful music, and not questioning but the songs of the good upon earth might be heard and echoed by the angels in heaven! Poor child! it was sad to see thee toil so hard, but beautiful to mark thy filial devotion and untiring love; thy thankfulness to have the work to do, otherwise both must have starved long since! thy trust in Providence that, for her sake, it would give thee strength for thy laborious tasks; the hope, that would not die, of better times; the faith that grew all the brighter and purer through trials; the store of sweet and pious thoughts that brought thee such pleasant comfort, and gave wings to many a weary hour of earthly toil.

For years Alice had contrived to lay by enough to pay the rent of their little cottage, ready against the period when it should become due; but now, either from the widow's long illness, or the hardness of the times, which ever presses in seasons of national or commercial difficulty most heavily upon

those least able to struggle against its additional weight, the day came round and found her unprepared. It so happened that the old landlord was dead, and his successor, one of those stern men who, without being actually hard-hearted, have a peculiar creed of their own with regard to the poor, which they are never weary of repeating; holding poverty to be but as another name for idleness, or even crime; but yet, even he was touched by her tears, and meek, deprecating words; and consented to give her one week's grace, in which she reckoned to have finished and got paid for the work she then had in the house. And although the girl knew that, in order to effect this, she must work day and night, she dared ask no longer delay, and was even grateful to him for granting her request.

"It will be a lesson to her not to be behindhand in future," thought her stern companion, when he found himself alone; 66 no doubt the girl has been idling of late, or spending her money on that pale-colored hood she wore (although, sooth to say, nothing could have been more becoming to her delicate complexion), instead of having it ready as usual." And yet, sleeping or waking, her grateful thanks haunted him strangely, almost winning him to gentler thoughts; we say almost, for deep-rooted prejudices such as his, were hard, very hard

to overcome.

Alice returned home with a light heart. "Well?" said the widow, anxiously. "All right, mother, with God's blessing, we will yet keep the dear old cottage in which you tell me you were born."

"And hope to die."

"Not yet not yet, dear mother!" exclaimed the girl, passionately. "What would become of your poor Alice, if she were to lose you?"

"And yet I am but a burden on your young life!"

"No-no-a blessing, rather!"

Alice was right; labor and toil only ask an object; something to love, and care, and work for, to make it endurable, and even sweet. And then, kissing her mother, but saying not a word of all she had to do, the girl took off the well-preserved hood and

cloak which had given rise to such unjust animadversions, and putting them carefully aside, sat down in a hopeful spirit to her wheel. The dark cloud which had hung over her in the morning seemed already breaking, and she could even fancy the blue sky again in the distance.

All that day she only moved from her work to prepare their simple meals, or wait upon the helpless but not selfish invalid, who, but for the eyes of watchful love ever bent upon her, would have striven painfully to perform many a little duty for herself, rather than tax those willing hands, always so ready to labor in her behalf. And when night came, fearing to cause that dear mother needless anxiety, Alice lay down quietly by her side, watching until she had fallen asleep; and then, rising noiselessly, returned to her endless task. And yet, somehow, the harder she worked, the more it seemed to grow beneath her weary fingers; the real truth of the matter was, she had overrated her own powers, and was unaware of the much longer time it would take for the completion of the labor than she had allowed herself. But it was too late to think of all this now; the trial must be made, and heaven, she doubted not, would give her strength to go through with it. Oh! happy, thrice happy are they who have deserved to possess this pure and childlike faith, shedding its gentle light on the darkest scenes of life.

Morning broke, at length, over the distant hills; and Alice, flinging open the casement, felt refreshed by the cool breeze, and gladdened by the hymning of the birds, already up and at their orisons; or exchanged a kind good morrow with the peasants going forth to their early labor. No wonder that those rough, untutored men, gazing upward on her pale, calm face, and listening to her gentle tones, felt a sort of superstitious reverence in their hearts, as though there was a blessing in that kindly greeting which boded of good.

The widow noticed, with that quicksightedness of affection which even the very blind seem gifted with in the presence of those they love, that her child looked, if possible, a thought paler than usual; and

for all the bright smile that met hers every time Alice, feeling conscious of her gaze, looked up from her work, marked how wearily the heavy eyelids drooped over the aching eyes; and yet, she never dreamed of the deception which had been practised in love to soothe and allay her fond anxiety; and the girl was well content that it should be so.

It so happened that, about noon, as she sat spinning in the cottage porch, the new landlord passed that way on horseback, and was struck with her sad and wearied looks; for, of late, she had indeed toiled far beyond her strength, and this additional fatigue was almost too much for her. But still that stern man said within himself, "It is ever thus with the poor; they work hard when actually obliged to do so, and it is a just punishment for their improvidence and idleness at other times. And yet," he added, a moment after, as he turned his horse's head, half lingeringly, " she is very young,

too."

Alice looked up at the sound of retreating footsteps, but too late for her to catch that half-relenting glance, or it might have encouraged her to ask an extension of the time allotted her; ay, even if it were but one single day! but he had passed on ere the timid girl could banish from her mind the fearful remembrance of his former harshness.

Another weary day and sleepless night glided on thus, and the third evening found her still at her spinning, with the same smile on her lips, and hope and trust in her breast.

"Is there nothing I can do to help you, my Alice ?" asked her mother, who grieved❘ to see her obliged to toil so hard.

"Nothing; unless, indeed, you will tell me some tale of old times, as you used to years ago, when I was a child."

แ Why, you are but a child now," said the widow, with a mournful smile; and then, inwardly comparing her lot with that of other girls of the same age, she relapsed into a train of sad and silent musings; Alice knew that they were sad, by the quivering lip and contracted brow.

"Come, mother dear!" said she, "I am waiting to hear your story."

And then the widow began to relate some simple reminiscences of bygone times, possessing a strange interest for that lonely girl, who knew so little of life, save in these homely and transient revealings; falling asleep in the midst, through weariness; for she ever grew weak and exhausted as night came on; but presently awoke again half-bewildered.

"Where was I, Alice ?" asked the invalid, gently.

"Asleep, dear mother, I was in hopes," replied her companion, with a smile.

"Oh! forgive me, I could not help it. you will not set up very long?"

But

No, no! good night."

"Good night, and God bless you, my child !" said the widow; and, a few minutes afterward, Alice was again the only wakeful thing in that little cottage; if, indeed, she could be called so with her half-closed eyes and wandering thoughts, although, it is true, the busy fingers toiled on mechanically at their task. The very clock ticked with a dull, drowsy sound, and the perpetual whizzing of her wheel seemed almost like a lullaby.

Presently, the girl began to sing in a low voice, in order to keep herself awake; hymns as usual; low, plaintive, and soothing; while the widow heard them in her sleep, and dreamed of heaven. But all would not do, and she arose at length and walked noiselessly up and down the room, trying to shake off the drowsy feeling that oppressed and weighed upon her so heavily. And then opening the casement, sat by it to catch the cool breath of night upon her fevered brow, and watch the myriad stars looking down in their calm and silent beauty upon earth. How naturally prayer comes at such times as these! Alice clasped her faded hands involuntarily, and although no words were uttered, her heart prayed! We have called her, in our love, pure and innocent; but she, of her holier wisdom, knew that she was but a weak and erring creature, after all, and took courage only from remembering that there is One who careth even for the very flowers of the field, and how much more for the children of earth. But, gradually, as she sat thus in

the pale starlight, the white lids drooped over the heavy eyes; her hands unclasped and sank slowly and listlessly down; the weary and toil-worn frame had found rest at last!

And then the room seemed filled on a sudden with a strange brightness, and where poor Alice had sat erstwhile, at her wheel, is an angel with shining hair, and raiment white and radiant as a sunbeam; while another bends gently over the slumberer; and, looking first at her and then at her companion, smiles pityingly; and the girl smiles too, in her sleep; and as if still haunted by her favorite hymn-tunes, sings again, very faintly and sweetly, until the sounds die lingering away, at length, upon the still night-air. Fast and noiselessly ply these holy ones at their love-task, while the whizzing of the busy wheel, accompanied by a gentle rushing sound, as of wings, alone disturbed the profound silence of that little chamber. And now the morning broke again over the earth; and, their mission performed, they have sped away to their bright home rejoicingly!

Alice awoke trembling from her long and refreshing slumber, thinking how she must work doubly hard to redeem those lost hours. She drew her wheel toward her; she looked wildly at it, rubbing her eyes to be sure she was not still dreaming; and then gazed around the quiet apartment, where all remained just as she had left it; but the task, the heavy task for which she had marked out four more weary days and nights of toil, and fearing, even then, not having time enough to complete it, lay ready finished before her! But, after a little time, the girl ceasing to wonder, or remembering to whom she had prayed on the previous night, guided by an unerring instinct, knelt down and poured out her full heart in a gush of prayerful thanksgiving to Heaven! And we can almost fancy the angels standing a little way off, smiling upon each other and on her, even as they had done before, and rejoicing in their own work.

We are told, in the legend, that from that hour the widow and her good and pious child never knew want again. It may be,

that Alice's employer was pleased with her diligence and punctuality; or the stern landlord shamed out of his prejudices by the unlooked-for appearance of the glowing and happy face of his youthful tenant, three days before the appointed time, with the money ready, and many grateful thanks besides, for what she termed his kindness in waiting so long for it; or there was a charm in that web, woven by holy hands, which brought Alice many more such tasks, with better payment, and longer time to complete them in. The only thing that makes us sad in this simple and beautiful legend is, that the age of such-like miracles should have passed away.

And yet, fear not, ye poor and suffering children of toil!—only be gentle and purehearted as that young girl-trust as she trusted-pray as she prayed, and be sure that Heaven, in its own good time, will deliver you!

FIRST AND LAST.

BY H. BONAR, d. d.

first the true, and then the beautiful;

'T's first the re beautiful and then the true:

First the wild moor, with rock and reed and pool, Then the gay garden, rich in scent and hue.

Not first the glad, and then the sorrowful; But first the sorrowful, and then the glad: Tears for a day, for earth of tears is full;

Then we forget that we were ever sad.

Not first the bright, and after that the dark;
But first the dark, and after that the bright:
First the thick cloud, and then the rainbow's arc;
First the dark grave, then resurrection light.

"Tis first the night-stern night of storm and war,
Long night of heavy clouds and veiled skies;
Then the fair sparkle of the Morning Star,
That bids the saint awake, and day arise.

REPROACH. It was said by Cato, "We cannot control the tongues of others, but a good life enables us to despise calumnies;" and by Plato, "When men speak ill of thee, live so that nobody may believe them."

GODLIKENESS. -What we have in us of the image of God, is the love of truth and justice.

THE MONTH OF LUTHER'S BIRTH.

NOVEM

[OVEMBER 10.-The anniversary of the birth of Luther, the illustrious founder of the Reformation. Martin Luther was born in 1483, at Eisleben, in Upper Saxony, to which town his mother had come to attend the fair from the village of Mera, where she resided. His ancestry for some generations, as he himself tells us, had been farmers; but his father left this occupation for that of a miner. His name was John, and that of his wife Margaret Lindemann.

Luther, whilst pursuing his studies at the village school, was in the habit of going from door to door, in the village of Eisenach, somewhat after the manner of an almsseeker, rewarding the generosity of his donors with songs and recitations, a custom much in vogue in that age.

At the age of eighteen, he entered the University of Erfurt; and four years after, having taken his degree of Master of Arts, he proceeded to study the law, when the

fate of a companion, who was struck dead at his side by a flash of lightning, so impressed him, that he resolved to dedicate the remainder of his life to the service of religion. To favor this resolution, he entered a monastery of Augustinian friars, at Erfurt. We next find him, as one of the Professors of the new university at Wittenberg, by the Elector of Saxony. A visit, which he had paid to Rome, in the year 1510, brought under his observation many of the abuses of the Church, and somewhat abated his zeal in favor of the existing order of ecclesiastical affairs It seems to have been in the year 1516 that he first began to preach in public; and his addresses already manifested a disposition to assail several of the prevailing errors of the time.

Being engaged to defend the claims of the Augustines, against their rivals, the Dominicans, who were dispensing the indulgences to fill the treasury of the Roman Pontiff, the honest and daring spirit of Luther soon carried him far beyond the