THE LOST CHILD AND THE LAMB. great art and anxiety, destroyed all traces of the hole, and the effect will soon commence. The heat of the sun will hatch the egg. The larva, or young grub of the sand wasp will become alive, and begin to feed on the body of the spider, in which it is enveloped. This food will suffice it until it is ready to assume the chrysalis state, and that chrysalis will continue there probably till the period when the influence of nature will call it out in the shape of its parent fly, to renew the same cares, and exhibit the same most wonderful instincts. Like the ostrich, the sand wasp thus leaves her egg in the sand till the sun hatches it, and having once buried it, most probably never knows herself any longer where it is deposited. It is left to nature and Providence. THE LOST CHILD AND THE LAMB. A LITTLE child wandered from its mother's cottage on the prairie in search of flowers. Pleased with the pursuit, and finding new pleasures, the more she sought; it was nearly night before she thought of returning. But in vain she turned her steps. She was lost in the pathless meadows. The thick clumps of trees that she had passed were no guide, and she could not tell whether home was between her and the setting sun or not. She sat down and wept. She looked in all directions, in hope of seeing some one to lead her homeward, but no one appeared. She strained her eyes, now dim with tears, to catch sight of the smoke curling from the cot she had left. It was like looking out on the ocean with no sail in view. She was alone in the wilderness. Hours had passed since she had left her mother's arms. A few hours more, and the dark night would be around her, the stars would look down upon her, and her locks would be wet with the dew. She knelt on the ground and prayed. Her mother in the cottage was beyond the reach of her voice, but her heavenly Father, she knew, was always near, and could hear her feeblest cry. Mary had been taught to say, "Our Father," and in this time of sorrow, when friends were far away, and there was none to help, she called upon him who has said to little children, "Come unto me." Mary had closed her eyes in prayer, and when she opened them, comforted in spirit, and almost resigned to her fate, willing to trust God for the future, and to sleep, if needful, in the grass, with his arm around her, and his love above her, she espied a lamb. It was seeking the tenderest herbs among the tall grass, and had strayed away from its mother and the flock, so that Mary saw at a glance she had a companion in her solitude, and her heart was gladdened as if she heard the voice and saw the face of a friend. The lamb was happy also. It played at her side, and took the little tufts of grass from her hand, as readily as if Mary had been its friend from infancy. And then the lamb leaped away, and looked back to see if its new-found playmate would follow. Mary's heart went out after the lamb, and she followed her heart. Now the little thing would sport by her side, and then would rush forward as if about to forsake her altogether, but soon it would return or wait until she had come up with it. Mary had no thought, no anxiety whatever as to whither the lamb was leading her. She was lost-she had no friend to help her in her distress-the lamb had found her in her loneliness, and she loved it, and loved to follow it, and she would go wherever it should go. So she went on, until she began to be weary of the way, but not of her company. HOME FLOWERS. The sun was just setting-a summer sun, and her shadow stretched away before her, as if she were tall as a tree. She was thinking of home, and wondering if she should ever find the way back to her mother's house and her mother's heart, when the lamb, of a sudden, sprang away over a gentle knoll, and as she reached it, her sporting playmate had found the flock from which it had strayed, and they were all, the lamb and Mary, within sight of home. The lamb had led Mary home. Who has not sometimes felt as this child, away from his Father's house, in search of pleasure till he is lost. He knows not whither to look for some one to guide him homeward. He prays. His eye of faith, blinded just now with tears of grief because he has wandered, catches sight of the Lamb, who leads him to his Father's house, where his tears are wiped away, and he is welcomed to the mansions and folded in the arms of eternal love.-New York Observer. HOME FLOWERS. DURING every season of the year, we find some flowers in bloom. They are never so acceptable, at any time, as in the spring. Winter has just gone, but he appeared unwilling to go, until he had received a token from those fair ones who had been hidden under his snowy garb, that they would spring up immediately after his departure. The snow-drop first shews its tender stalk, and then its flower which hangs down its pretty head, as if afraid to meet the curious eye of man. No flower transplanted from the Asiatic woods, or American forests, however rich in colour, can exceed in beauty or simplicity, either this modest flower or the humble lily-of-the-valley. The fuchsia drop is pretty : the carnation and tulip are rich and gaudy flowers: but our own home flowers are sweeter, to a true English eye, than all the cultivated exotics. They are endeared by youthful associations. The daisy is the first flower a child knows; and like a first love, remains for ever the dearest. By being acquainted with so many tropical fruits and flowers, we grow discontented, and lament we do not live in so beautiful a country. But we ought to remember that ours are as beautiful as others. When Linnæus, the celebrated botanist, first saw a furze bush, which was in this country, it is said that he fell upon his knees, and thanked God for having given man so lovely a plant. The rose is rich in odour, and so is the may, which reminds us of our forefathers, who were accustomed every year to go a-maying. Then in the woods and shady places are the forget-me-not, the violet, the dog-rose, and the orchis. In corn fields, the marigold, the corncockle, and the poppy are most conspicuous. By the water side, we find the sedge, the bull-rush, the waterlily, and the flowering-rush,-all alike rich in associations and beauty. Whatever beauties other countries may produce, let us be contented and thankful for our own. The same God made them both, and fixed them in their proper climates. He cares and attends equally to the little chickweed, as to the largest tree that grows. Then let us learn to look up "from nature unto nature's God," and glorify Him who has declared that "Solomon, in all his glory," was not arrayed like a lily of the field. THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT. How goodly is the earth! Look round about and see The green and fertile field; ALPHA. THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT. The birds whose summer pleasure How goodly is the earth! How goodly is the earth! With which old ocean smiles; The gracious showers descend; How goodly is the earth! That is, shall drop and fade; Hath still its fellow, shade; So goodly, where is strife Ever 'twixt death and life; Where trouble dims the eye; Where sin hath mastery; How much more bright and fair, Will be that region, where The saints of God shall rest Rejoicing with the blessed;Where pain is not, nor death,-The Paradise of God! |