heard that fine old story?'-'What story, Annabella?' she was asked; to which she replied, 'O Mary, about Jesus and His love.'

To another woman who came in, she said, 'I'm dying, but if you only knew how happy I am!' The woman looked astonished. Annabella asked her how it stood with her and Jesus, and getting an unsatis factory answer, she exclaimed, O, what a thing to be living without Christ!' This same woman died very suddenly shortly after.

To her two little brothers she said, 'Just give your hearts to Jesus now when you are young: for every day Satan is binding you the firmer to himself.

0!

what if I'm on the right and you on the left:' and with many other entreaties did she try to induce them to be Christ's. She didn't talk to them about growing up to be men, great meu, rich men. she knew that He whom she had believed had said, 'Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all other things shall be added unto you.'

No:

To another, very near and dear to her, she said, 'Get ready for this. God is showing you what a death-bed is from me. If I hadna had Jesus before I came to this bed, I wouldna have had time for that troublesome cough. But'-holding up her hands -'He's here bearing me up.'

·

One day, awaking from a kind of stupor, she exclaimed, Oh, wha's that I hear sobbing? It's my dear Ma'. Oh, Ma', I'm only going to Jesus: to hear you sobbing is like to break my heart;' and she kissed her mother passionately. Her mother said, 'Yes, but you have been so ill,' referring to the state from which she had just emerged. Her answer was, 'Since I have been away to-night, I have been at the gate of heaven, so high, so white! I saw no one, but I heard a voice saying, "Let Annabella in," and another which said, "Not yet; she must stay and suffer for me a little longer." Didn't I come away wi' a weary heart.' It is noteworthy that she lived a fortnight longer and suffered much.

But she was inuch more occupied with the thought of Christ's sufferings than of her own. One day when in great distress her mother said, 'You are very ill, Annabella,' to which she immediately replied, 'Think, Ma', what Jesus suffered for me, and this will soon be over, and I feel His arms around me.'

6

One Sabbath evening her minister called to see her she was in sore distress, and he said kindly, You are very ill to-night, Annabella. Her answer was, Yes, Mr Stark, I am ill: but I have no nails in my feet, as Jesus had, and I can get a drink of whatever I want, but He could not get a drink of water unless it were mingled with gall.'

Her mother one day referred to the swollen condition of her body, whereupon she trimmed her chemise, and said, 'Take no notice of that, Ma'; when my glorified soul shall come at the last to meet my body, it will be complete; there will be no swelling, no cough, no spit.' She was speaking on another occasion about her love to Christ and her love to her mother, and she said to her mother that she would never know how she loved her. ller mother, to test her, asked, 'If Jesus were to come and offer you health, and to stay here, or to go with Him, which would you take?' She said, 'O, I would be away in a minute!'-'And leave me, Annic?' asked her mother. Yes, and leave you, Ma', for I know you will follow. If I were offered Queen Victoria's place, I would rather go with Jesus.'

Her father having secured a better situation, her parents were, of course, like herself, looking forward to their immediate removal. One day, referring to this, she said, 'My grave will be the last place you'll be at Ma', and you'll cry.' -Can you blame me?' said her mother. She replied, 'If God would only roll up the curtain which hangs between earth and heaven, and let you get a keek in and see me before the throne, with my palm in my hand and my crown on my head, and singing, "Worthy the Lamb that died for me," you wouldn't cry Ma'. And there will

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be a star in my crown, for you mind Maggie. Try, Ma', and bring souls to Christ, it is so selfish to come alone. And, Ma', you 're never to think of me as being dead, but to look forward to the time when we will meet again. If God doesn't permit me farther, I'll be at the gate.'

On the second morning of May, about two, she died. Her mother said, 'You look very happy, Annabella.' With a shining face she replied, And so I am.' Her mother asked. What is it that is making you so happy?'-'O, Ma', it's Jesus!' she said with animation. Her mother asked her, 'Do you feel Jesus near?' To which she replied, 'Yes, Ma', and dear.' She asked the light to be turned down and a little coal put on the fire. Her mother did those little things and then returned to the bed to adjust her head, when with a sigh she breathed her last.

Dear young reader, if you want to be happy on earth, and to be ready to leave it at any time and in any way God pleases, do as Annabella did, take Jesus to be yours, and give yourself up to Him to be only His.

WHAT WILL THOU HAVE ME DO?

WHY is it that I live, Lord,

WHY

Among Thy works so fair?
Why dost Thou daily make me
The object of Thy care?

I scan the realm of nature;
The creatures all fulfil
The work Thou hast assigned them,
Obedient to Thy will.

The sun I see with gladness

Shed down both light and heat; And run his race of glory

With swift, untiring feet. When sable night, her mantle Has thrown across the sky, The Queen of Night' advances In silent majesty,

While stars like heavenly courtiers Attendant on her will,

In bright and glowing radiance

Perform their courses still.

The violet of the Meadow

And every little flower
Fulfils its sacred mission

And manifests Thy power.
Around the throne of glory
Bright spirits do Thy will,
And ministering angels
Thy wise designs fulfil.
And thus Thy works beholding
All fair creation through,
More earnestly I ask Thee,

'What wilt Thou have me do '?

W. Y.

54

JYX Alan.

DISOBEDIENCE

AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

MORS MILLS was a poor widow, who lived in a cottage by the sea-side with her two little boys Richie and Once she had a husband and four sons, but they were fishers, and the cruel sea swallowed them; thus she was left to provide for herself and her two remaining children as best she might; and, considering all things, she managed remarkably well. When she knew that the boats were expected, she would go down to the beach, and there, with a heavy heart and a sad countenance, await their arrival. Only God knew how at such times she missed the blithe greetings of her husband and her two bonnie sons. When the take had been good, the kind fishermen, who had known and respected her husband, would fill her creel for a mere trifle, that she might have the more profit when she sold them in the next town.

This business often took her away from home many hours together; but as Richie was nine years of age, and wonderfully steady at that, and, above all, as he was very fond and careful of his three-year-old brother, her mind was generally pretty easy on their account. One day in spring she said, when preparing to leave home, 'Now, Richie dear, take good care of Alan till I come back; do your best to amuse him inside the house; keep him quiet if you can, but even if he does cry, on no account allow him to go out of doors, as a cold wind is blowing from the east. hear he has a bad cough already, and another attack of croup such as he has had before may carry him off altogether, and you would not like to lose your little brother.'

You

When Richie promised faithfully to fulfil his mother's injunctions, he really meant to keep his word. He shewed Alan his picture books, and told him all the stories he knew over and over again, yet the time seemed to pass very slowly. By and by he opened the door, and as he stood gazing out towards the sea, he observed a number of boys and men

preparing to draw a net to the shore. Many a time had Richie had a hand in landing those nets. He loved to see the great fishes struggling helplessly in the strong meshes; but, most of all, he loved to gather the small shining, jumping things that fell through them. He stood looking and wishing that he might join these fishers at their cheery labour, till he allowed the temptation to overcome him, and he made up his mind to go down. Not that he had forgotten his promise to his mother, but he reasoned with himself somewhat after this fashion: I'm sure it is a great deal pleasanter out of door than in to-day. I don't think it can be very cold when the sun is shining. Little Alan wants out too. He will take no harm if I wrap him well up. Besides,' he added, as he left the cottage, leading his little brother by the hand, mother makes such a fuss about a little cough; I don't believe he is half so ill as she thinks.'

It is a bad sign when a child begins to fancy himself wiser than his parents. Richie left Alan to amuse himself with a few other little ones on the sands, while he ran to assist the fishermen with their nets. He was very happy, and believed the men quite serious when they said they did not know what they would have done without his help.

The excitement of this congenial occupation, however, did not cause him to forget Alan altogether. He kept glancing from time to time towards the spot where he had left him, but as the little fellow appeared to be enjoying himself nicely, Richie flattered himself that it was all right. He went at length to take him home, but when he heard how much worse the cough had become he was thoroughly frightened. By the time their mother came home, little Alan was dangerously ill with croup.

I hope none of my young readers will ever feel as Richie felt when, through all that night, he saw his darling brother struggling between death and life. Remorse was added to his grief. He knew that if Alan died, it would be he who had killed him. When one remedy after another was

In the midst of her own anxiety the mother had seen and pitied poor Richie's sufferings. She therefore refrained from upbraiding him for his act of disobedience; she knew he had received a lesson that would last him all his life. A. M.

JESUS A LAMP.

"Thou art my lamp, O Lord.' 2 Sam. xxii. 29. N a former paper I explained how Jesus may be compared to a lamp. In this one, I wish to turn the picture and show you how much better He is than any light which we possess or any lamp which man can make.

1. Lamps give light but a short distance. Take a lantern on a dark night in the country, and how much of the way will it light up?-only one step at a time. The sun is our greatest lamp, and the most that he can do is to give light to the half of our globe; for when it is day with us, it is night with those on the other side of the globe. But this lamp-Jesus-lights all the way from earth to heaven; He lights the whole earth, for He is the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.'

2. Lamps require to be trimmed, and will sooner or later die out. Those who live in the country where there is no gas, have to trim their lamps every day; but when was this lamp trimmed? when will it go out? Away back in eternity, this lamp was burning, for 'the same was in the beginning with God.' The Lord possessed me in the

beginning before His work of old.' And it will burn on through an eternity to come; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light.'

3. Lamps can be blown out and extinguished. You have heard the fable about the lamp which, soaked with too much oil and flaring very much, boasted that it gave more light than the sun. A sudden puff of wind arising, it was immediately extinguished. Its owner lit it again and said: 'Boast no more, but henceforth be content to give thy light in silence. Know that not even the stars need to be relit.'

Many have tried to extinguished this heavenly lamp. Herod tried and thought he had succeeded, when he caused all the children in Bethlehem from two years old and under to be slain, but you know how he failed. The Pharasees and chief priests with the rulers of the people tried, and they too thought they had succeeded when they saw the Lord of Glory lifeless on the cross, and then buried in the grave; but the lamp still burned on: within three days it was an empty grave. And since then, unbelieving men have often tried to extinguish the lamp-to rob Jesus of His glory as the true God, but it still burned on: they will never be able to extinguish it, for as the ages go on there will be an ever increasing number who like David will be able to say, 'Thou art my lamp, O Lord.' 4. Lamps may give light, but they cannot give life.

Flash a light in the face of that dear dead friend, who lies coffined and ready for burial, and what good will it do? Its light cannot reach the sightless eye-its heat cannot put the warmth of life into the clayey corpse; but when the Spirit of God flashes this lamp before the eyes of those who are dead in trespasses and in sins,' then they are quickened to a new life. They are made new creatures in Christ Jesus,' being created anew in knowledge after the image of Him that created them.' In other words, this lamp gives life as well as light. It not only lets us see God, but it makes us like Him. The sun, the greatest of earthly lamps, can make pictures or