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Another tenant of the Girls' Home was Annie H-, a young woman of sixteen, looking rather stupid, and chiefly remarkable for her great love for her younger sister, a much brighter and more attractive girl. Happy sisters in happy homes, hearing their mothers' gentle lesson-'love one another,' can hardly imagine that such love could ever lead any one into temptation and sin. Poor Annie, speaking of her sad past, told one of her teachers that when the women who lodged with her came in at night, and sank into drunken unconsciousness, she had often stolen money from them. She knew how wrong she had been, but she looked up saying 'I could not see the children starve." Annie found a greater blessing in the Home than food or clothing, or even kindly affection. She came to Jesus, and He received and forgave her. She told the simple story of her conversion one Sunday evening, to encourage her companions.

Why, Miss M-,' she said, 'I found it was only twopence or threepence that was keeping me from Jesus.'

It had been a little theft which had weighed on the girl's mind, and kept her from peace until she confessed it to her friends, and received forgiveness from God and man.

Annie and Jessie, and their companions, are now in Canada. God has prepared a country where such as they may have the common blessings of food, and care, and the sight of God's beautiful country. In the future they may have happy homes of their own, in which the children who grow up may see God's love in their pleasant hearths, and their parents' smile. Had they remained in Britain, humanly speaking, they would have grown up to sorrow and

sin alone. Thank God that He has provided a home for the homeless, a shelter for the friendless.

Little readers, you can help this great work. Pray for the workers. Pray for the children. Our God has promised to answer prayer.

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JESSIE P. MONCRIEFF.

MRS NEWELL.

BOUT the same time that Christians in this country began to send missionaries to the heathen, American Christians also began to obey Christ's commandment: 'Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature.' Among the very first missionaries who went from America to Asia was the young and beautiful Harriet Atwood, who was married to Mr Newell, and with him left home and friends to labour in a foreign land for the Master she so truly loved.

Harriet Atwood was born near Boston, in the State of Massachusetts, on the 10th of October, 1793. She was a singularly happy and affectionate child, and was a great favourite with all who knew her, as well as in her own home. When only thirteen years of age, while attending school in Bradford, some distance from home, she and several of her companions were led to think seriously, and her letters to friends at this time, are very remarkable for one so young. In one letter she says, 'the Bible is my constant companion. This I intend shall guide me in the future.' A year or two after this she became more thoughtless and taken up with worldly amusements; but when she was in her sixteenth year, she gave herself wholly to God, and made a public profession of her faith, by sitting down at the Lord's table. From this time she had but one object before her, how most to glorify God. When she was in her eighteenth year, Mr Newell asked her to go with him to India, and in February 1812, this young disciple of Jesus bade farewell to her mother, and much loved sisters and brothers, and embarked along with the first missionary party that left America to carry the gospel to Asia.

PRIZE BIBLE QUESTIONS.

The vessel reached Calcutta about the middle of June, and the Baptist Missionaries at Serampore kindly invited the strangers to stay there till they got 'settled at a station of their own. But the British Government would not allow them to carry on their great work, and ordered them to leave India in a few weeks. Mr and Mrs Judson went to Burmah, and Mr and Mrs Newell left Calcutta in August for the Isle of France. They had a very stormy passage, and before they reached the end of the voyage, their little baby died, and was buried in an ocean grave. Very soon after the death of her child, Mrs Newell became seriously ill. The fatigue and hardships of a sea voyage brought on consumption, and on the 30th of November, 1812, about three weeks after their arrival at the Isle of France, the young and devoted missionary, Harriet Newell, was taken to her everlasting rest. When on her death-bed, she told her sorrowing husband that she did not for one moment regret the sacrifice she had made for Jesus. The only regret she felt at leaving this world so soon was, that she had not been able to do more for the cause of Christ.

But her noble example stirred up others to come forward and give themselves to the missionary work. Many, both in America and Britain, have gone to preach Jesus to the perishing heathen, who were first roused to think of these things by reading or hearing the touching story of the devoted life and early death of the beautiful and beloved Harriet Newell.

'CH

THE LINEN THREAD.

HARITY thinketh no evil.' Eva, a farmer's daughter, was a most skilful spinner, and had some very fine thread out to bleach in her father's garden. Barbara, the daughter of a neighbour, often entered the garden, expressed great pleasure in looking at the beautiful thread, and kindly assisted her friend in the care of it. unfortunate day Eva observed that several skeins were missing. She at once suspected her friend, ran to her, and cried: 'Barbara, you have stolen my thread! No stranger, except you, ever enters our garden. Return

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the thread, or I will accuse you of the theft.' Barbara wept, and asserted her innocence, but in vain. Eva accused her, as she threatened, and the justice investigated the case. Nothing was proved, however, except that the thread was gone, and that Barbara was considered a thief in the whole village.

The succeeding year the old stork nest on their church tower was repaired, and lo! the lost thread was found in the stork's nest; for the stork had taken it to make a soft bed for her young, without knowing that was called stealing.

Then Eva repented that, through her, Barbara had lost her good name. With tearful eyes she besought the young girl and her parents to pardon her for the cruelly unjust accusation. But Barbara's father replied only: Why didst thou cherish such suspicions in thy heart?'

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PRIZE BIBLE QUESTIONS. In the Senior division, competitors not to be above eighteen years of age.

In the Junior division, Competitors not to be above thirteen years of age; and in both divisions the answers must be honestly the work of the individuals competing.

All answers to be sent, with the name and address of the competitor, not later than the 18th of each month, to the Rev. JOHN KAY, Coatbridge.

SENIOR DIVISION.

10 Where was the looking upon a certain part of the dress, used as a means of refreshing the memory in reference to the divine commands?

11 A prophet, The prophet, and an apostle, express themselves respectively as opposed to interference with 'the liberty of prophesying, of working miracles, and of preaching. Give the name of each, and the passage in which the expressions occur.

12 On ordinary occasions, the incense burned in the tabernacle was lifted from the incense box with a golden spoon; on what occasions was this rule departed from, and the hands of the priest to be employed instead?

JUNIOR DIVISION.

10 Which verse of a psalm is found in the book of Jeremiah?

11 In which verse from the prophets are praise, prayer, and preaching, all enjoined? 12 Where is the Father's reception of the penitent prodigal described by a prophet?

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50

'S

SOMETHING TO DO.

SOMETHING TO DO. OMETHING to do, Mamma, something Who has not heard the cry? [to do!' Something to plan and something to try! Something to do when the sky is blue, And the sun is clear and high; Something to do on a rainy day, Tired of lessons or tired of play; Something to do in the morning walk, Better than merely to stroll and talk. For the fidgetty feet, oh, something to do, For the mischievous fingers something too; For the busy thought in the little brain,

For the longing love of the little heart, Something easy, and nice, and plain; Something in which they can all take part; Something better than breakable toys, Something for girls and something for boys! I know, I know, and I'll tell you too, Something for all of you now to do! First, you must listen! Do you know Where the poor sick children go? Think of hundreds all together In the pleasant summer weather, Lying sadly day by day, Having pain instead of play; No dear mother sitting near, No papa to kiss good night; Brothers, sisters, playmates dear, All away and out of sight. Little feet that cannot go Where the pink-tipped daises grow, Little eyes that never see Bud or blossom, bird or tree, Little hands that folded lie As the weary weeks go by. What if you could send them flowers Brightening up the dismal hours? Then the hospitals for others, For the fathers and the mothers; Where the weary sufferers lie, While the weeks go slowly past, Some with hope of cure at last, Some to suffer till they die. Now, while you are scampering free, In your happy springtide glee, They are lying sadly there, Weak and sick,-oh don't you care? Don't you want to cheer each one? Don't you wish it could be done?

Then the poor old people too,
In the dreary workhouse-room,
Nothing all day long to do.

Nothing to light up the gloom!
Older, weaker, every day,
All their children gone away;
Nothing pleasant, nothing bright,
For the dimming aching sight.
Would it not be nice to send
Nosegays by some loving friend?

Then, if you could only see
Where so many thousands live,
All in sin and misery,
Dirt and noise and poverty,

What, oh what, would you not give,
Just some little thing to do

That might do a little good!
Don't you want to help them too?
I will tell you how you could!
Gather flowers for Jesus' sake,
For a loving hand to take
Into all those dreadful places,
Bringing smiles to haggard faces,
Bringing tears to hardened eyes;
Bringing back the memories
Of the home so long ago
Left for wickedness and woe,
Of the time so far away

When they learnt to sing and pray.
Oh, you cannot guess the power
Of a little simple flower!

And yet the message they should bear,
Of God our Father's love and care,
Is never really read aright
Without the Holy Spirit's light;-
Without the voice of Jesus, heard
In His own sweet and mighty word.
And so we never send the flowers
With only messages of ours;
But every group of buds and bells
The story of salvation tells.
Let every little nosegay bring
Not only fragrance of the spring,
But sweeter fragrance of His Name,
Who saves and pardons, soothes and heals,
The living Saviour, still the Same,

Who every pain and sorrow feels.
The little texts are sweeter far
Than lily-bell or primrose star;

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