118 HARVEST HOME IN INDIA. He 'I eye. The soldiers surrounded the guide. Where is the water?' they cried. Eight hours' march,' said the guide, and we shall be at the wells.' And with that he pointed in the direction where the wells lay. is deceiving us,' cried one, the water is not there.' 'He is leading us to destruction,' said a second, out upon the traitor.' see the water!' cried a third, pointing his comrades in a different direction. • We see it, we see it!' his comrades replied; 'death to the false guide.' And so the guide was slain. And away they marched. And now they saw the fountain before them. How large it was! liker a lake than a fountain. How beautiful too! reflecting the palm trees on its bank. And how near!-eight hours!' they said, 'we shall be there in one!' And away they sped in haste and eagerness. But they never came nearer it. As they kept moving, the lake kept moving. The quicker they went, the quicker it went too. Ah, it was not a lake at all, but only the picture of a lake. It was what travellers call the mirage of the desert,-the image of a thing appearing on the horizon, but not the thing itself. And so it was not a fountain the Egyptain soldiers saw, but only the appearance of a fountain. And whilst it seemed to be leading them to life, it was really leading them to death; for that whole army perished in the wilderness. Once on a time men were all wandering in the wilderness of this world. They were athirst for the water of life, and they did not know where to get it. They sought it in one direction, they sought it in another. They tried to find it here, and there, and everywhere, but never found it. At length a Guide appeared, who undertook to lead them to the water of life. For a time it seemed as if they would follow Him. But very soon they rebelled against Him, and said He was leading them astray. At last they put Him to death, and determined to find the water of life in their own way. The great bulk of the people followed them. But the water of life was never reachedthey perished in their pride. Yet there were some who did not follow. They waited by the dying guide; and they made the discovery that the water of life was in Himself. His death became a fountain of the water of life. His resurrection became a fountain. His ascension became a fountain. You know who this guide is? It is the Lord Jesus Christ. He who said, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink,He whose last invitation in the word of God is, Whosoever will, let him take the rater of life freely. 'AT HARVEST HOME IN INDIA. A. G. F. T the conclusion of harvest, the heathen Koles have for ages held one of their most important festivals. It occupies several days and nights, and is characterized by frightful debaucheryeating, drinking, dancing, and every sort of revelry. Instead of quite abolishing this feast among the Koles who have been converted to Christianity, the missionaries have altered its character, and turned it into a beautiful Bible-like celebration, which puts one in mind of the feast of weeks' in Jewish times. Like the true Israelite of old, the Christian Kole brings part of his increase, and offers it to the Lord, "Every man as he is able, according to the blessing of the Lord his God." 'When the day of this festival comes round, the great body of the Christians meet together. They are then formed into a procession along with the children of the schools, boys and girls, and headed by the missionaries in gown and bands. Each individual brings something: some have baskets or brass vessels, containing rice and other grain; others bring sheaves or roots; and others bring pice (pence). Thus they march to the church, where they deposit their offerings on the floor opposite the pulpit; and very soon there are good big heaps of both grain and pice. After this there is regular service conducted by the missionaries, when there is a great deal of singing, in which the whole congregation join most heartily; and indeed the music is wonderfully beautiful; these wild people have such sweet and harmonious voices. They seem to make their offerings very gladly, and PRIZE SCRIPTURE QUESTIONS. ac quite to understand that they are knowledging the bounty of God, who has crowned the year with His goodness. All the contributions go to the support of catechists and schools, and to the general operations of the mission.' Thus writes Mrs Murray Mitchell in her interesting Sketches of Indian Life and Travel.' The Koles are one of the aboriginal tribes of Bengal, among whom German missionaries have been labouring for some time with great success. If those Koles who have so lately emerged from heathenism so express their thankfulness to God for giving them fruitful seasons, surely we in 119 will all be gathered together in His treasury. and shine together in His glorious crown, and not one will be forgotten, or overlooked, or lost, for every one is 'precious in His sight.' Is it not a grand thing to be one of God's jewels? How very wonderful that He should give such a beautiful name to His poor, sinful, worthless children, and set such shining hopes before them! Ought we not to try to walk worthy of this high and holy calling? (From 'Little Pillows.') FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. in our land of light should not be forgetful The Dayspring Bible Class. of all His benefits. MY JEWELS. 'That day when I make up my jewels.'-MAL. 3. 17. 'MY Y jewels!' God tells us who they are-Every one that feared the Lord, and that thought upon His name.' Then if you fear the Lord, and think upon His name, you are one of His jewels, and all that you are going to read about them is for you, and means you. 'My jewels!' They are His 'special treasure (see margin), His very own, dearer than all other treasures to Him. We see how very precious they are to Him by the price He paid for them. For every one of them has been purchased, not with silver and gold (all the silver and gold in the world would not have been enough to purchase one of them), but with the precious blood of Christ. That was the greatest thing God had to give, and He gave it for them. God has found and chosen His jewels, and He will never lose them. Every one of them is kept safe in the casket of His everlasting love. He does not mean to hide them away, and be ashamed of them; for He says they shall be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God.' They are not all the same, jewels are of many different colours and sizes; but the day is coming when He will make them up,-when they QUESTIONS ON MATTHEW'S GOSPEL. How did Jesus return from the country of the What was it in the hearts of the paralytic and his friends which pleased Jesus? By what endearing name did Jesus address the sick man? What cheering news did He bring him? What did some of the scribes think concerning the words of Jesus? How did Jesus rebuke their evil thoughts? How did He shew them that He had power to forgive sins? What effect had this miracle on the multitudes? What was Matthew doing when Jesus called him? In what words did Jesus call him? What class of persons sat at meat with Jesus in Matthew's house? What did the Pharisees murmur concerning this? By what proverbial saying did Jesus rebuke their murmurings? What passage of Scripture did He quote to reprove them? In what words did Jesus shew that He came to save the guilty, not the self-righteous? By what metaphors did Jesus teach the disci ples of John Baptist, that His coming brought in a new dispensation? Prize Scripture Acrostics and Questions. Competitors will please observe to address their answers to Rev. JOHN KAY, 11 Teviot Row, Edinburgh. 16 How much did a man pay to his cousin for a property, and on what ground did he expect that it would afterwards become valuable? 17 In what verse of an epistle is unity among believers four times enjoined? 18 Where are eminently good men called the glory of Christ? M :M, |1, :r The :f.r d :r M Keep by Thy mighty hand, oh, keep 2 Speak to the shadows of the night, Keep by Thy mighty hand, oh, keep, &c. 3 Soothe the rough ocean's troubled face, Keep by Thy mighty hand, oh, keep, &c. 4 In storm or battle, with Thine arm, 5 O Son of God, in days of ill, Keep by Thy mighty hand, oh, keep, &c. Keep by Thy mighty hand, oh, keep, &c. 7 Defend from the quick lightning's stroke, And from the iceberg's crushing shock; Take Thou the helm, and surely guide The wanderer o'er the wayward tide. Keep by Thy mighty power, oh, keep, &c. 8 Good Pilot of the awful main, Say, It is I, be not afraid. Keep by Thy mighty power, oh, keep, &c. (By kind permission from new edition of 'Sturrock's Sabbath School Hymn Book.') Paisley: J. AND R. PARLANE.] [London: HOULSTON AND SONS. THE PRISON FLOWER, AND WHAT IT TAUGHT THE PHILOSOPHER. HAVE you ever noticed flowers bloom ing in some old ruin, the tiny stalk forcing its way between the old stones, and the fresh green leaves adorning the hoary pile? How did they come? Perhaps, long ago, a child's garden flourished there; childish hands sowed the seeds, and blossoms still perfume the air; but those who watched and watered the little seedlings are long since gone. Do the flowers serve any purpose now? Or far away on some lonely hill-top, where the gentle breeze whispers lovingly to the sweet wild flowers, have you not felt that they speak of God's goodness, and of His delight in the works of His hand? We read, in the Old Testament, of the lessons God taught his people by the prophets; and in the New, Jesus shows us how we can learn even by the birds of the air and the flowers of the field. Man, the noblest of God's creatures here below, can profit by the very lowliest; and the prison flower,' the heroine of my little tale, was sent with a very special message to a wise man, who lived long ago, before my young readers were born. I dare say you think this plant had a very strange name, and perhaps in a book of botany it would have had some grand learned title; but it was really a 'prison' flower, and had no sweet blooming companions. The wonder is, that it bloomed at all, for it grew up between the stones of the pavement in the court-yard of a prison. The Psalmist speaks of the 'stormy wind fulfilling God's word.' Some tempest may, perhaps, have borne the seed on its wings, and left it, unseen, but safe, in the narrow strip of earth between the stones; or, perhaps a little bird carried off some grains from a garden, flew high up to the tower of the prison, and, unconsciously, sowed the seed which was to spring up in beauty. all In the court-yard, a sad and solitary man, the Count de Charney, walked day after day. He was a prisoner in the fortress of Fenestrelle. He had been a member of a secret society, whose object it was to overturn the order of things in the French Government, in the time of Napoleon Bonaparte. There was not much enquiry made as to how far Charney was to blame, the Emperor ordered his captivity, and that was enough. The prisoner liked to walk in the court, for, far away on the horizon, he could see the summits of the Alps, but after his two hours' exercise was over, oh! how dreary it was to go up the winding stair that led to his quiet room. Many a sad repining thought came into his head. Before he had been put in prison, Charney had not been a humble learner in God's school, as all the truly wise should be, but, wondered and rebelled at the evil he saw round about him, and began to doubt if there was a God at all. Now that he was a captive, he was more unhappy than ever, and but for the flower of which I have told you, I know not how wretched he would have become. The tiny plant, ‘Picciola' (the Italian word for 'poor little thing'), as Ludovic, the kind jailer used to call it, aroused first the interest and curiosity of the Count, as he watched it facing and overcoming the difficulties in its way, and speedily drew forth his admiration and love. He had nothing else on which to lavish his affection, but it is a great matter for men and women, boys and girls, when they begin to think and care for another, humble and insignificant though that other may be. For But Picciola, did more than this for the Count de Charney: he marked and studied the design, what was intended by the different parts of the plant, and concluded that all the beauty and freshness which cheered his loneliness must have come from a great loving Creator. the Count did not now spend his time as he formerly did, in writing sad, rebellious thoughts on his prison walls, but from his window, or his bench in the court, watched his precious plant, and recorded her progress from day to day. Oh, the joy when blossoms came, and when, through the kindness of a fellow-prisoner in a |