THE SABBATH SCHOLAR AND THE INFIDEL. ONE bright Sabbath morning, a little girl, neatly clad, was passing through the green fields; but she did not stop, as she usually did, to chace the gay butterflies that were flitting from flower to flower, or to peep into the birds' nests that she knew were concealed among the bushes, and shaded from the sun by the cool leaves. Neither did she stop to watch the fantastic movements of the little fish that were gliding along in the brook. But as she glanced over the emerald field all gemmed with white and golden flowers, and saw the waving trees, and inhaled the sweet odour of the clover blossoms, and listened to the song of the birds, and looked up at the blue sky and bright sunshine, her heart was lifted up to the good Father, who had made all things so beautiful; and she thought, if this world was so fair, how glorious heaven must be where God and angels dwell. As she came to a shady spot, where the branches of the willow drooped to kiss the brook, she sat down to rest, and taking a book from her little basket, which she carried in her hand, she commenced reading aloud. Her voice was very soft and sweet, and at first clear and distinct; but as she continued reading, the tears gleamed in her blue eyes, and her tones became tremulous with emotion. "Why do you weep, pretty child?" said a strange voice beside her.

She looked up, and beheld a young man standing near, who, unperceived by her, had been listening while she read. "Because I do not love Him better who died for me," re

plied the child, lifting her blue eyes gleaming with tears to his face. "O, sir, I am weeping because I don't love Jesus better than every thing else in the world,”

"You have never seen Jesus, how could you love Him better than your parents, who take care of you, and your brothers and sisters-if you have any-who love you and play with you every day ?"

"O, sir, that's it; sometimes I am afraid that I love them better than the Saviour, and that makes me cry; because I ought to love Him better than all of them."

"No, I have never seen Him; but I am a going to see Him. I am going to live with Him for ever."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I am sorry for my sins, and I love the Saviour: and all that repent and love the Saviour are going to Him when they die, to live with Him in heaven for ever." "Where is heaven?"

"It is away up there in the blue sky, where Jesus and the angels live."

"What kind of a place is heaven ?"

"O, it is a very beautiful place, and a very happy place." "Is it pleasanter than this world ?" inquired the young man, glancing around at the beautiful scenery.

"O, yes, a great deal pleasanter! I was just wondering a little while ago, as I was crossing the meadow, how it could be any pleasanter in heaven than it was on earth; but while I was wondering, I felt the sun too hot for me, and I sat down here in the shade.

"So they dont have any scorching sun in heaven ?" said the young man, smiling.

"No, there is no sun there, for God makes it light; there is nothing there that can hurt any one-nor sorrow, nor sickness, nor pain, nor death."

"Then that is it which makes heaven more beautiful than earth, is it?"

"No; that makes it pleasanter; but it is more beautiful too, because, don't you know, the Bible says, 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him;" so it must be glorious, for our eyes see very beautiful things, and our ears hear sweet music sometimes. Just listen now how sweetly the birds are singing, but the angels sing a great deal sweeter."

"But how do you know the Bible is true?" "Because it is God's Book."

"But how do you know there is a God?"

"Because there is a world and people in it, and every thing beautiful; and besides, God tells me so Himself."

"How does He tell you, does He whisper in your ear?" "No, he tells me right here," replied the child, laying her hand upon her breast.

For some moments the young man remained silent, apparently lost in deep thought, then rousing up suddenly, he said, "What is your name, my little teacher ?"

"Angela, sir."

"Angel—that is an appropriate name-and if there be

angels on earth, why not in heaven," murmured the young man. "Well, my pretty angel, where do you live?"

"I live yonder, over the hill," replied the child, pointing in the direction of her father's cottage.

"And have you come all this way to read your Bible in this pleasant spot ?"

"O, no, sir; I am going to Sabbath school, and I stopped here to rest; and I thought I would read a little in my Bible about my Saviour. I love to read about my Saviour, but it makes me cry when I think how cruelly He was treated."

"O, could I but have that child's faith I would give the whole world," exclaimed the young man. "Can it be that

there is a God?"

"Don't you believe, there is a God, sir ?" inquired the child, looking earnestly at him.

He turned and walked rapidly away. But he did not spend the day roaming over the fields as he designed doing, but passed the greater portion of it in serious meditation. Through the words of that little child, God sent an arrow of conviction to his soul, and he found no rest till he had bowed at the foot of the cross, and sought and found forgiveness through a crucified Redeemer.

How do such incidents as this bring to mind that scripture-"In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; even so, Father; for so it seemed good in thy sight."

THE MISSIONARY'S DYING CHILD.

THEY were going down the river in a boat. Mary had fallen asleep, and she awoke in considerable pain. The Missionary, in some alarm, laid her on the couch, and immediately called her mother. It had come at last, then? Yes, the disease, which had been struggling in her little frame since morning, now broke out in its most virulent form. There was little to be done. The remedies which had proved successful in scores of cases, seemed to fail now. They were surrounded by natives. No European physician could have been obtained in less than thirty-six hours, and the missionary and his wife knew too well the rapid course of spasmodic cholera even to think of sending.

Was it for this their treasure had been given to them? After blessing their home and their hearts for six joyous years, was that home now to be desolated, and were those hearts to be left bleeding out at every pore? So much beauty! was it to fade? The many early promises of goodness and intelligence, were they given only to be withered in the bud? Rebellious thoughts such as these did indeed, for a moment, pass like a dark shadow over the heart of the agonized father; but soon God had pity on his weakness, and it seemed as if an angel voice whispered back to him the words he had himself spoken to the two young Brahmins, "Christianity is a very real thing, it makes us feel that God is always right;" and he exclaimed aloud, "Oh God, forgive I know now that thou dost all things well. Thy will be done."

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