NE of the pleasant spots within a short distance of Jerusalem is the Convent of the Cross. It is seen on the right in approaching the city by the Jaffa road, prettily retired in a valley. Riding out one afternoon in company with a friend, in about twenty minutes we reached the sheltered hollow in which it is situated. Like all the convents in Palestine so exposed to the Moslem invasion, its walls are of immense solidity, having few openings by which an entrance could be effected. Notwithstanding this the Arabs, a few years since, contrived to make an entrance and murder the superior. The best view is from a rising ground, whence it appears to great advantage, half-buried in olive groves, with a back-ground of rocky hills.

On obtaining the key, we passed through an outer court, and reached the church, with the size and ornament of which we were really surprised. The mosaic pavement was superior to any in Jerusalem. We were

now conducted to the spot from which the convent derived its name; for it would have been strange, indeed, if an age which witnessed the discovery, or, as it is otherwise called, the invention of the Holy Cross, should have failed to discover also the precise spot where grew the tree of which it was made; which accordingly is pointed out in a vault behind the altar.

The Convent of the Cross is mentioned by Sewulf, who says that it had been ravaged by the Pagans, but that the destruction fell chiefly on the conventual buildings; the church, more fortunate than many others, having been in great measure spared. It is the only remaining seat of the Georgians, an ancient orthodox church, which formerly possessed an influence at Jerusalem at present almost entirely lost. The site of the convent was granted to them by Constantine; and it was erected by their king, Tatian, in the fifth century. -Bartlett.

H, mamma," cried Kitty and Willie Scott,,
as they ran into the parlour on coming
home from school, "we have seen such
a funny sight to-day!"

"What was it, my dear?"

"A little man," said Kitty; "such a little man; no bigger than Willie, and yet not a boy, mamma. He had a great hump on his back, and his stick was taller than himself, though it was not bigger than papa's. He had large shoes, and a man's hat, but just like half a body. Oh, it was so funny to look at him hobbling along!"

"I hope you did not laugh; or, at least, did not let him see that you were laughing at him. That would have been very cruel and unkind."

"I know we both laughed," said Willie; "but not like some of the other boys. Some of them laughed quite loud, and ran after the poor little oddity."

"I am sorry to think that any of your companions could behave so ill. When we meet any person whom God has afflicted in such a way, we should not appear to notice them at all; or, if we speak to them, be as kind and pleasant as possible. Was this man a beggar?" "Oh no; he was well dressed, and looked quite respectable."

"And did he seem angry at the boys?"

"Yes, very angry; and he spoke bad words back to them."

"Poor man! So these boys were not only cruel and sinful themselves, but led him into sin. It is sad to think of.".

"Mamma, why does God make dwarfs and hunchbacks?"

figured in consequence of illness or accident, when they were children; often from the neglect and carelessness of those who had oharge of them."

"Johnnie Ross says that dwarfs and hunchbacks have not minds like other people."

"That is quite a mistake. Many of them are very clever and well-informed. Of course, it is a great trial to be so unlike other persons; and therefore, without much prayer and help from God, they are apt to be peevish or passionate in temper; but we must make great allowance for this. Come to me in the evening, when you have prepared your lessons for to-morrow, and I shall tell you a remarkable story of a man like him you met to-day, who was enabled to do a great work in his time for God and his fellow-men."

The children did not fail to claim the fulfilment of their mother's promise, at the time she mentioned.

'Now, tell us about the deformed man, mamma. Who was he? Where did he live ?" S

"He was born about a hundred years ago, in England, in or near the small town of Horton, which is, I think, in Yorkshire. His name was Jonathan Saville. His mother and father were both pious people, but very poor. The father was a labourer, working hard to support his wife and child, yet finding time also to do work for the Lord Jesus, by visiting and praying with the sick and afflicted near him; so that he was well known and respected as a consistent Christian."

"And was little Jonathan born a dwarf?"

"No; he was a fine, healthy child. But sorrows and misfortunes came very soon. His good mother died when the little boy was only four years old; and you know it is a sad, sad thing for a child at that age to be left without a mother. And, not long after, his father was killed by an accident, when working in a quarry. So little Jonathan was left a friendless orphan, and sent to the workhouse at Horton."

"Is not a workhouse a very melancholy place?"

"Yes, it is generally a sad place; for all the people there are either very old, or sick, or helpless, or young

gether. We should feel much compassion for the poor friendless sufferers who have no other home; and Christians who have leisure may do much good by visiting them, and comforting them. Yet, when rightly managed, the workhouse may be made a great blessing to those who are very friendless and destitute, and unable to work for themselves. Jonathan was kindly treated, but soon sent to service in the country; and his master proved to be a very had, unfeeling man. The child was made to work all forenoon in the coal-mines, and then, after a walk of several miles, set to spin wool in the evenings, instead of getting rest. His health and strength failed with the overwork and bad food, till one night he stuck fast in a bog from perfect weakness. He was then ten years old."

"That is Willie's age," said Kitty. "Mamma, Willie could not work in the coal-mines and spin wool ?"

"Not at present certainly; and though Jonathan was a stronger child, and used to hardships, yet, as I have said, he sunk under the fatigue. After the night in the bog, it was evidently impossible for him to return to the mines; so he was kept constantly at the spinning-wheel. One day, being quite benumbed with cold, he ventured near the fire to warm his hands, when his master's daughter thrust him away, with such violence that the poor boy fell and broke his thigh-bone."

“Oh,” said Willie, " is not that a dreadful accident?" "Yes, dreadful indeed, which can only be got the better of by very great care and skill. Poor suffering Jonathan got neither help nor pity. He crawled in great agony to bed; but in the morning was compelled by terrible threats to rise and work again. It is deplorable to think of what the wretched child must have endured, while his groans of pain were only laughed at by the inhuman family around him."

"Did they not get a doctor to set the broken leg?" "No; he just tried to hold the bone in its place with his own hand at nights."

"Did he not die?"

"He must have had naturally an excellent constitution, for he lived through all this suffering, but the bone never being put right, he became a perfect object, bent almost double, and only able to crawl on hands and knees. His master, seeing him quite useless, carried him to Horton work house again on his hack, with the broken leg dangling down. The manager of the workhouse was a kind man, and felt much pity for the unfortunate child; and some of the poor inmates, who recollected his father's visits and prayers, received him very kindly, doing all they could to help and comfort him."

"Did he get better then?"

"By slow degrees he recovered some measure of health, but remained quite a cripple. An old man made him a pair of crutches, so that he could move about; but he had quite stopped growing, and at the age of fourteen was no taller than he had been when a child of seven. So, besides being a cripple, he was a

dwarf, like the man you saw to-day. But as he got stronger in body, his talents and vigour of mind began to appear. He had never been at school, and could not even read. Now he wished much to learn, and found a teacher in the workhouse-an old soldier, helpless with palsy."

"That was a poor master."

"The scholar did him credit, however. In one year Jonathan could read easily. Then he worked so diligently at the employments given him, that he gained extra wages, and spent them in improving himself at an evening school. And now, also, he began to think about his soul, to pray earnestly, and show an interest in heavenly things. On Sabbaths he would hobble to a Methodist chapel, leading along a poor blind man from the workhouse. And the good people at chapel used to pat him kindly on the back, and say, 'Ah, poor fellow! his worthy father's prayers will be answered for him yet!'"

up

"That is nice to hear of, mamma. Then did he grow to be a good man?"

"He never grew up, in one sense, for he always remained a cripple and a dwarf. But by the grace of God he became a decided, happy Christian. He settled in the town of Halifax, maintaining himself by work as a weaver. He joined the Methodist Church, and soon was one of the most useful members, rejoicing to tell others of the love and goodness of the Saviour, who had given himself such happiness notwithstanding his afflictions. He was very useful as a teacher, and whenever he had a little spare time on Sabbath evenings or holidays, he used to go and hold prayer-meetings in the country villages, where, in those days, there were no churches or ministers. He was not able to ride, but would limp along many miles, through the cold of winter or the heat of summer, never thinking of his own fatigue, if he could but comfort the distressed or teach the ignorant and sinful. At last, the chief men of the Methodist Church, seeing how God had given him talents and grace, proposed to have him ordained as a preacher of the gospel, which is more easily done in their Church than in ours. Jonathan agreed, since they wished it, and so he was made a minister in 1803."

"A crippled, dwarf minister!" said Willie; "how very funny! Did people not laugh at him?"

"Some wicked, thoughtless men did indeed laugh, and even treated him cruelly. But he did not trouble himself about it, and even his enemies before long gave up persecuting him, when they saw him so gentle and patient. One day, in a country village, a drunken man knocked him over (which would be easily done), and called him "a crooked little devil." Jonathan rose up and quietly said, " Friend, the God who made me crooked made thee straight." The man was silenced, and went to hear him preach, and the sermon touched his heart. Years afterwards, when Jonathan happened to be preaching in Hull, a stranger seized his hand and said, 'I bless God that I ever knocked thee down!'"