RELIEF FOR THE WEARY,-A TOUCHING

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sweet face.

INCIDENT.

BY JOHN B. GOUGH.

FRIEND of mine, seeking to relieve the poor, came to a flight of stairs that led to a door, which led into a room reaching under the slates. He knocked. A feeble voice said "Come in," and he went in. There was no light, but as soon as his eye became adapted to the place, he saw, lying upon a heap of chips and shavings, a boy, about ten years of age, pale, but with a

"What are you doing here ?" he asked of the boy. "Hush, hush! I am hiding."

"Hiding? What for?" And he showed his white arms covered with bruises and swollen.

"Who has beat you like that ?"

"Don't tell him; my father did it."

"What for?

"Father got drunk and beat me because I wouldn't steal!"

"Did you ever steal?"

"Yes, Sir, I was a thief once."-(These London thieves never hesitate to acknowledge it; it is their profession.) "Then why don't you steal now ? "

"Because I went to the Ragged School, and they told me, Thou shalt not steal; and they told me of God in heaven. I will never steal, Sir, if my father kills me!"

Said my friend, "I don't know what to do with you. Here is a shilling; I will see what I can do for you."

The boy looked at it a moment, and then said :

"But, please, Sir, wouldn't you like to hear my little hymn ? "

My friend thought it strange that, without food, without fire, bruised and beaten, as he lay there, he could sing a hymn; but he said, "Yes, I will hear you." And then, in a sweet voice he sang :

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,

Look upon a little child;

Pity my infirmity,

Suffer me to come to Thee.
Fain would I to Thee be brought;
Gentle Lord, forbid it not;
In the kingdom of Thy grace,
Give Thy little child a place."

The gentleman

knocked at the The shilling lay

"That's my little hymn; good-bye!" went again in the morning, went up stairs, door-no answer; opened it and went in. on the floor. There lay the boy with a smile on his facebut he was dead! In the night he had gone home. Thank God that He has said, "Suffer little children to come unto me!" He is no respecter of persons, black or white, bond or free, old or young. He sends His angels to the homes of the poor and the destitute, the degraded and the wicked, to take His blood-bought little ones to His bosom.

the street.

BEYOND THE GARDEN GATE.

HILDREN," said Mrs. Jay, "you may
play anywhere in the yard, but don't go
beyond the garden-gate, Do you hear
me, Peter ?"
"Yes, mother," said

Peter, looking up from his wheelbarrow. "Do not go beyond the garden-gate!", Mother then, seeing her little boy and obiby girl quietly at play in the yard, put on her bonnet and shawl, and went down

Peter and Jessie, his little sister, had nice play together. He used to make believe horse, and draw her on his trucks, or she make believe a pumpkin, and be carried in his wheelbarrow; or they would both make believe cows and set up a terrible moving; indeed, there was no end to the different characters they took, all the while keeping very kind to each other. Their plays this afternoon led them down to the bottom of the garden, where there was a gate hasped inside, which opened into a field of thick underbrush and trees, sloping down to a lower part of the village. This was the forbidden gate.

"I wish we could go out into the woods," said Peter; "perhaps, we should find a bird's nest." Peter unhasped the gate, and he and Jessie looked around and saw the pretty woods. "But what did mother tell us?" asked Jessie. "Perhaps, she was afraid of bears," answered Peter, "or the water in these woods, or something; but there are no bears. Oh! there's a squirrel on that tree! See him, see him, Jessie;" and away ran Peter to the woods, and away and away ran Jessie after him. The squirrel hid, and the children went on, hoping to find another. They strayed down a bank, and came to a brook and little pond. “Mother thought we'd fall into this pond, and that's the reason she cautioned us against coming here," said Peter; "but we shan't, shall we, Jessie? "No," answered Jessie, "we won't." And so they ran round, and tumbled about, and picked flowers, and at last got back to the garden-gate safe and unharmed, without anybody knowing they went. 'Jessie," said Peter," don't you tell."" Not if mother asks?” asked Jessie. "She won't ask," said Peter.

Mother did not ask, nor did Jessie tell, and all went on at home as usual. Saturday night, after the children were washed, and Jessie had gone to sleep, Peter and his mother talked a little longer together, as they often did on Saturday night. Peter said, Mother, I have been in the woods beyond the garden-gate this week." "When did you go?"

she asked? He told her. "And mother," he said, "nothing happened to us there; we didn't fall into the water, or get wet, or tear our clothes; no bears ate us up. Why didn't you want us to go?"

You lost something that afternoon in the woods," said his mother. 66 'Lost something!" said Peter; and he thought of his knife, and his slate pencils, and his ball, and a threecent piece in his pocket; he hadn't lost one of them, he was quite sure. "Yes," repeated his mother, "think a moment what you have missed, for I know you have lost something." Peter for a moment thought his mother must be a spirit; for how could she know when he didn't know himself? "You will recollect if you think," said she. Peter put his head under the bed-quilt, for he began to see he had lost something; and the more he thought the more sure he was of it. "Mother," he at last said in a little sorrowful voice, "I did lose something in those woods, I did; I lost the happy out of my heart." Ah, that was it; and a sad loss it is when a child loses the happy out of his heart.

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It does not always concern a child to know why his parents forbid him this or that; his duty is obedience. Nor because nothing befalls him in a course of disobedience, must he conclude no harm is done at all. Peter and Jessie got home safely; but was there no harm done? Yes, yes; the happy left their little hearts. They were afraid-afraid their mother would find it out. This is the way doing wrong wrongs you. It wrongs you out of that peace and comfort which God made you to enjoy; and all Peter's play in the woods did not make up for this loss until he told his mother and received her forgiveness with her good-night kiss.

TOMMY.

OMMY was a very bad boy, and no wonder; for he brought into this world a bad heart. But besides that, his father kept a low beer house, in a low street, in a seaport; and sailors, and bad men and women, resorted, from time to time, to Tommy's father's house. He heard horrid oaths, but he thought it was a mark of manliness only, and so he began to use the language of Satan himself now and then. He saw men smoke pipes and cigars, and he thought it would make him appear great, if he did the same. He saw thèm drink intoxicating liquors, and he soon learned all those wicked habits. After the company had left the house, Tommy would go over the tables, drain out the glasses and drink. He would take the pipes and knock out the "dottles," and put them into another pipe, and smoke. He would watch men smoking cigars, and when they threw away the stumps, he ran with glee to pick them up. But do not think that Tommy was alone; there were other boys as wicked and neglected as he,

"Who were bred in the dirt,

With nothing for stockings, and rags for a shirt; and they, from time to time, stimulated each other in that which was evil.

One favourite amusement, on the Lord's day, was "pitch and toss" for this purpose they went down to a secluded place by the river side, and gambling, and cursing, and swearing employed their time. What an awful picture! But this is only what is to be met with every week, in large seaports. What would have become of Tommy, who can say ? He might have committed some theft and been "transported." He might have committed, under the influence of strong drink, some murder, and have been hung. O! but God, in His mercy, had something better in store for him. One Sunday, when the bad boys were on the shore, at