'Well done, Alice!

I see you don't

intend to let the grass grow under your feet,' adding, and here is the book. I am sure you have well earned it.'

To my great surprise she drew back and said resolutely,

'No, I haven't; I was five minutes late, the post mistress said so.'

'Well, well,' I said, re-assuringly, 'I dare say we shall get over it, and at all events you did your best.'

But in spite of all I could say, she remained firm in her refusal to accept of the book, repeating, in answer to all my entreaties,

'Thank you, but if you please I had rather not; I have no right to it.'

By this you will see that Alice was strictly conscientious. As this is a rather hard word, I will try to make it plain, so that even the very youngest reader of the 'Dayspring' may understand it. I am sure, children, you have all felt something inside of you like a still, small voice, whispering approval when you have done right, or speaking its disapproval more loudly when you have been doing wrong. This voice is called conscience. So when I say that Alice was conscientious, I mean that she did nothing without the approval of her conscience. May all my young friends try to live so that the same may be said of them.

I must tell you here that while Alice was gone with the letter, I had written her name and something else on the fly-leaf of the book, only I did not wish her to see it till she got home. But at last, when I found that she could not be persuaded to accept of it in any other way, I opened the book, saying as I did so,

'If you haven't a right to it I dont know who has.'

If the book had been ten times more valuable, I would have considered myself well repaid by the grateful look with which she glanced up at me when she had read this,

To ALICE WHITE,

AS A REWARD OF MERIT.

27

'Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things.' Matt. xxv. 23.

And now, before handing the book over to her, I added these words, 'The lip of truth shall be established for ever.' Prov. xii. 19.

ONC

THE GOSPEL.

A. M.

NCE a caravan was crossing to the North of India, numbering in its company a missionary of the cross. The heat was smiting, the way toilful. An old and feeble man sank down exhausted, and was left to perish on the road. The missionary went to him, and kneeling at his side whispered, 'Brother, what is your hope?' With difficulty the dying man faltered forth only these words: The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin,' and in the effort died. How or when could this seeming heathen have gotten this Gospel? Just then was seen a bit of paper grasped in the dead man's hand. It was but a single Bible leaf with these words printed on it. It was little, but the whole Gospel was crowded into it. Thus the man had seized the good news of God.

OUR FATHER.

FROM His glorious heaven,

Where the angels dwell, God looks down on children, And He loves them well. Infant voices calling

Day and night, He hears; Keeps their feet from falling, And their eyes from tears. As a Father, careth

For them in their need; Day by day prepareth Each his daily bread. Tell all little children There is One above Ever watching o'er them With a Father's love.

G. B.

28

I'

OLD TESTAMENT.

N Genesis the world began,

'Twas then that God created man. In Exodus the law was given,

As Israel's guide from earth to heaven.
Leviticus, from Levi's name,
The tribe from which the priesthood came.
Then Numbers tells about the way-
What God would have us do and say,
Deuteronomy, which means 'twice told,'
The truth, once learned, must ne'er grow old.
Then Joshua came in Moses' place,
When Law had failed, God brought in Grace.
He next by Judges Israel ruled;
His love toward them never cooled.
And then, the story sweet of Ruth,
Foreshadows very precious truth.
First Samuel gives account of Saul-
The people's king-his rise and fall.
In Second Samuel then we hear
Of David-man to God so dear.
In First of Kings the glory filled
The temple Solomon did build.
And Second Kings records the lives
Of prophets, kings, their sons and wives.
In First of Chronicles we're shown
The house of David and his throne.
And Second Chronicles records
King Solomon's good deeds and words.
Then Ezra builds God's house again,
Which had for long in ruins lain.
And Nehemiah builds the wall
Round Judah's city, great and tall.

Then Esther, Jewish maid and wife,
Raised up to save her people's life.
And Job-his patience sorely tried-
At last God's dealings justified.

Then come the Psalms, whose sacred page
Is full of truth for every age.

The Proverbs, which the wise man spake,
For all who will their teaching take.
Ecclesiastes shows how vain
The very best of earthly gain.

The Song, how much we need to prize
The treasure set above the skies.
Isaiah, first of prophets, who
Foretells the future of the Jew.
Then Jeremiah, scorned by foes,
Yet weeps for faithless Israel's woes.
The Lamentations tell, in part,
The sadness of this prophet's heart.
Ezekiel tells, in mystic story,
Departing and returning glory.
Then Daniel, from the lion's den,
By power Divine, is raised again.
Hosea shows the Father's heart
So grieved for sin on Ephraim's part.
And Joel tells of Judgment near;
The wicked nations quake and fear.
Then Amos, from the herdmen sent,
Calls hardened sinners to repent.
In Obadiah, Edom's fall
Contains a warning word to all.
Jonah, though prophet of the Lord,
Yet fled to Tarshish from his word.
Then Micah sings in sweetest lays
The glory of millennial days.
And Nahum tells the fear and gloom
Of Nineveh and of her doom.
Habakkuk-though the fig-tree fail,
His faith and truth in God prevail.
Then Zephaniah tells of grace,
And love that comes in judgment's place
And Haggai in the latter days
Repeats: Consider well your ways.
In Zechariah's wondrous book,
We find eight visions if we look.
Then Malachi, the last of all,
Speaks sadly still of Israel's fall.

J. CARR.

30

You wonder at the size of them-you wonder at the position of them-away out there, so lonely, so grand, so awe-inspiring! People generally like to be buried with their forefathers, and out in the open air and sunshine; but these old Pharaohs liked to be buried alone, deep in the heart of these huge mountains of stone which they had reared in their life-time to be their abode after death. When you come near the Pyramids you are struck by their exceeding size. The largest is about 500 feet high, and covers an area of 12 acres! Think of a building as high as St. Rollox stalk in Glasgow, and broad in proportion! You try to climb it, but you are forced to call in the aid of the Arabs who live there to help you; for the steps are each about five feet in height, which, of course, is higher than most of you. At first there were no steps to climb by, but the outer casing has been torn away by the hand of the spoiler, so that now one can ascend to the top as by a staircase; and Longfellow's verse holds good:

'The mighty pyramids of stone

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, When nearer seen and better known,

Are but gigantic flights of stairs.'

But you ask, What are these buildings there for? I answer, They are tombstones -just huge tombstones-the biggest in the world. Some people have supposed that they served other purposes besides; for it has been found that the four sides of them face exactly the north, south, east, and west; and it has been found also that the stone coffin within the largest one contains exactly four times our British Quarter; but for all that, there can be no doubt that the chief end of them was to serve as tombstones such as we put up in our churchyards.

But where was the person buried? He was buried in the heart of them. For a long while people did not know where the person was buried, for the entrance to them was built up; but by and by they found out the way, and now, by taking a torch and following a guide, you can go

right into the heart of this huge hill of stone, and see the place where the old kings of Egypt used to sleep after death. For as Isaiah says, "The kings of the nations, even all of them, lie in glory, every one in his own house.'

I have seen tombstones in this country which cost thousands of pounds, and I have seen small wooden crosses such as they put up in France, which cost only a few pence. But where are the tombstones to be compared with the Pyramids, on the largest of which it is said 100,000 men were engaged for a lifetime? Other tombstones last but for a short time. Soon the moss gathers over them, and the letters decay, and the stone moulders; but these Pyramids have stood for 4000 years. They were standing, it is supposed, in the days of Abraham-before Joseph ruled or Moses was born-and they will stand now probably till the end of the world.

And yet, after all, we hardly know who built them. It is supposed that it was a king of Egypt called Cheops who erected the largest one. But we are not sure. His coffin is now rifled. His name has been blotted out. Nothing is left but his tombstone to speak his greatness. My children, it is a pity of a man when his tombstone is the most enduring part of him. Such is not the highest style of man. Standing out in the lonely moors of Scotland, you come now and again to the tombs of men who were shot down in the days of persecution 'for their adherence to the Word of God and Scotland's Covenanted Work of Reformation.' But these men's names are remembered, and gratefully remembered too. When their tombstones moulder, new ones are raised for them. And this is done because these men thought not of their tombstones but of their lives, which they lived as in the sight of God, and for the benefit of their fellow-men. Let us do the same. Let us seek to live holy, useful lives, and these will preserve our names far longer than the Pyramids; for is it not written in the Book of truth, "The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance'?

R. L.

TH

HE life of Christ has well been called theGreat Biography.' There was never one so grandly sublime, and yet so deeply tragic. In no other life do such miracles meet us to excite our wonder and exercise our faith; but of all its charms, is not His gentleness the greatest? How mild He ever was with those who erred! how tender in His very threatenings! See Him at the well of Sychar, how gently He removes the prejudices of that sinful Samaritan woman! look at Him on the brow of Olivet, as bathed in tears He gazes on the guilty city, soon to be laid in

ruins. Come with me to Calvary's mournful mount, and stand beside His cross in that hour of the power of darkness. Oh, if ever there was a time when we would expect Him to be entirely taken up with Himself, it was in that hour in which 'He bare our sins in His own body on the tree,' and in which reproach was breaking His heart. But listen! Now it is the prayer of the dying malefactor that engages His attention and gains the answer, To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise;' now it is the sight of His grief-stricken mother who excites His compassion; and now it is