beneath the lightest touch. Burning fever was upon her, and restlessly she rolled from side to side, constantly changing,-now in her "little crib," now on mamma's big bed," and now, swayed to and fro, softly cradled on an anxious heart. No ease, no sweetly-drawn, quiet breath, no sense of coolness stealing over that throbbing brow. Cousin took mamma's place a while, and gently rocked the sufferer. "Dear Minnie, what can we do for you?" Lispingly came the murmured answer,— Sing, cousin, won't you? Happy land!" Then, low and quietly, I sung those cheering words and sweet notes children love so well, until slumber stole upon her. But it was a restless, troubled slumber, and as the tones ceased, again she murmured,— Sing, cousin, won't you? Happy land!" So the song was repeated until the senses were lulled in a sleep too profound to be lightly broken. Darling Minnie! Hers has been a happy life. Not three summers has she numbered, no sorrow has she known, and cheeringly the rainbow hues of hope shed their lustre over every thought. Cradled in a loving mother's arms, a father's hand laid tenderly upon her upturned brow in daily blessing, an elder sister to take her confiding hand and gently lead her in all the flowery paths of sunny childhood, light-hearted, merry little brothers, proud of darling Minnie, and ever ready with their sports and toys to gladden her young life,-what could she know but love, and happiness, and hope? How deeply she slept. We hoped the fever would soon abate, and a nurse sat near and gently fanned her precious charge. But scarcely had we turned away to leave her a while in quietness, ere came the thrilling cry "Come quick! Minnie is in a fit!" Rapidly every remedy was applied that love could invent, or medical skill advise; but hour after hour passed away without seeming relief. At length ease stole over that convulsed frame. God had heard the constant petitions, the fervent prayers, the agonised sighs of those afflicted yet trusting parents, and His hand was all-powerful to relieve and restore. As quiet came, the mind resumed its sway; the lips returned an answering kiss; and the simple, childish words,-"Mamma, I want a drink," thrilled every heart with hope. The father pressed a loving kiss upon the fair, smooth brow, and murmured earnestly, "God bless my little lamb !' "O yes, He will!" was the sweet response, as for a moment those heavy eyes were languidly unclosed. "O yes, He will!" Beautiful trust! unfaltering faith! childhood's loving confidence! Darling Minnie, thou thyself art a rainbow of hope, a sunbeam of summer, a gladness, a joy, a treasure. "O yes, He will!" Loving, trusting little one, hope on! and ever, from the depths of thine own pure heart, joyfully sing Happy land," until thou mayest enter at its pearly gates! -Parlour Annual. 66 THE WAYSIDE TRAVELLER. AFTER having descended a precipitous hill, and entered a glen of varied beauty, I alighted from the carriage, in order to visit a picturesque church that was situated near the road-side. As I lifted the latch of the little gate that opened upon the churchyard, I saw an aged woman bending under the weight of eighty-five years; with one hand she held a crutch, and with the other the corners of a wellmended apron, filled with sticks. She paused upon seeing me. "Nay," I said, "pray pass through first; your hands are full and mine are at liberty." She accepted the slight attention in a way that interested me. After walking round the receptacle for the dead, I turned into a shady lane, and saw the aged pilgrim seated upon a fallen tree. I went toward her, and said, "I am glad you have found a resting-place this warm day." "I thank God for this, as well as for every other blessing, lady. The Lord provides ease for his servants here, and never-failing rest hereafter." "I am glad to find that you can trace God in your mercies." She replied, "I have reason so to do; I have been a widow thirty-five years, and have not known the want of a bit of bread; I was left with eight children, and their labour and mine procured a decent subsistence, through God's blessing, until they married, and had to support their own families." "Do they give you any assistance at present?" "They are far removed from me, lady; but God is a present help in time of trouble. He opened the heart of our clergyman's lady to pay the rent of my present hut, 1s. 6d. per week, and she kindly gives me a dinner, when I am able to walk for it." "Can you read?" I inquired. "No, I cannot read; but my heavenly Father will not reject me on account of my ignorance; for, in His great mercy, He has taught me by his Spirit to know that I am a sinful creature, and that he has given to me-even to me-his own dear Son to save my immortal soul, and with a full heart I bless his holy name. Oh, the joy of having such a refuge to flee to! My God meets me; he sends his Holy Spirit into my heart, and warms my soul with the thoughts of my Saviour." "Do you live alone?" I asked. "I have no one in the hut with me," she replied; "but I am not alone, for God -the Mighty God--is with me; I lay down to sleep in his arms, and when I awake He is present with me. He graciously gives me power at this advanced time of life to help myself; my hearing is good, my sight is perfect,-I can see the finest hair of my head. What shall I render to my God?" "I trust, then," I said, "that when the last summons comes, his rod and his staff will comfort you." "Oh, lady, he will never leave me nor forsake me. I do not fear death; my eyes fill with tears of joy as I walk along the road, at the thought of soon seeing Jesus face to face; this is all my desire in this life; it cheers my declining days, smooths my cares, and makes every thing appear trifling here below?" "Do you think your sins are forgiven ?" I asked. "I do; the heavy burden of them is gone, and instead of the weight of them, the love of Christ comes more deeply into my heart. I wish I could serve him as I ought; I am a poor insignificant creature, and yet he deigns to make me as one of his own. I cast myself upon His mercy, upon the great Sacrifice, and find Him all-sufficient." We parted with mutual expressions of hope that we might meet at the right hand of God. - Churchman's Monthly Magazine. THE LATIN BIBLE. "I SHALL never, never forget it," said Elizabeth; "I shall think of it all day; 1 shall dream of it all night; how could they be so cruel, so very, very cruel ?" "Nay, my dear young lady," said the old nurse, stroking the beautiful long silken hair of Elizabeth, as she arranged it for the night, "it is not for little ladies such as you to call that cruel which the law commands,-the law did it, child, and the law must not be questioned." Elizabeth was a bright-eyed, pretty child; and her cheek flushed, and made her look still prettier, as her old nurse said these words. You could scarcely imagine a greater contrast than the two figures presented; the nurse full seventy, with a wrinkled face, and her grey hair put up carelessly under a white nightcap; the child, not twelve years old, with golden hair and dark flashing eyes, and her neat figure gracefully dressed in the fashion of the time. There was as great a difference between the two as there is between the first buddings of the spring-time and a withered autumn leaf. And if you could have looked into their hearts, you would have found the contrast quite as great as in their outward forms: the old woman was a Roman Catholic, and as cruel as her creed; the girl, though trained in the way of Romanism, hated all its cruelties with all the hatred of which her young heart was capable. That day several Protestants had been burnt alive in the market. It had been a busy day in that old German city. Everybody talked about the execution, and how the victims had praised God in the fire; and from one and from another Elizabeth had heard all about it, and now poured out her complaint to the old servant who waited on her. "It must be wrong, Maud, I am sure it must be wrong; the good Jesus, who shed his blood for us, would never want the blood of his creatures shed so wantonly. Why, when I went to church last Good Friday, the priest told us that when Jesus was dying on the cross, he prayed for his enemies, so you see "Little ladies," interrupted Maud, "must not talk about such things as these; all they have to do is to learn catechism, and say their Aves, their Paternoster, and their Credos; and when they are old enough, be confirmed, and go to confession, and always do just exactly as their priest tells them." But suppose the priest should make a mistake?" asked Lizzy. "Priests cannot make a mistake, child; they are always right." "How are they always sure to be right ?" They get their knowledge from the Pope." "The Pope make a mistake, child! Little rebel, how dare you say that word? We shall have some great dragon flying away with you, one of these nights, and then we shall see who's made a mistake." 66 But, Maud," said the child in a softer voice, for her nurse's wrath alarmed her, "is there not a book called the Bible ?" "The Bible, child, aye, that there is; and a bad book it is." "A bad book! is it not God's book?" "Never mind that," said Maud; "it is the book the heretics read, and no good people ever look into it ;-but enough of this; light your taper, and sing your evening hymn. Holy Mary, Mother of God.'" The exercise was gone through rapidly enough; then |