THE INFIDEL FATHER AND HIS DYING CHILD.

He could not resist that pleading voice; and kneeling, he laid his hands over the clasped ones of his child, and for the first time since he had murmured it with childish earnestness in his mother's ear, his lips gave utterance to those hallowed words of prayer. At such an hour, under such circumstances, it could not be uttered carelessly; and he understood its solemn import-its recognition of God-its surrender of all things to him. He understood it, we say; but he trembled at it. His infidelity was annihilated; but he believed as the unreconciled believe, and his heart almost stood still with fear while "Thy will be done on earth, even as it is in heaven," fell slowly from his lips.

Soothed by his compliance, Eve became still, and seemed to sleep, but only for a few minutes. Suddenly, in a louder voice than had been heard within that room for days, she exclaimed, "Father, father, see there!-up there, father!"

Her own eyes were fixed upward on the ceiling, as it seemed, for to him nothing else was visible, while a smile of joy played on her lips, and her arms were stretched upward as to some celestial visitant.

"Eve coming!" she cried again. "Take Eve!" "Will Eve leave father ?" cried the agonized father, while unconsciously he passed his arm over her, as if dreading that she would be really borne from him.

With eyes still fixed upward, and expending her last strength in an effort to rise from the bed, Eve murmured in broken tones, "Father come too-mother -grandfather-little brother-dear father-."

The last word could have been distinguished only by the intensely-listening ear of love. It ended in a sigh; and now the father felt, even while he still clasped her cherub form, and gazed upon her sweetly-smiling face, that his Eve had indeed left him for ever!

And yet not for ever. He straightway sought the Lord, and has now followed her to glory.

"Music before I die!

Let me hear those thrilling sounds once more,
Ere I depart to a brighter shore,

To my home on high;

And sing me the strains which thou sang'st before,
With a tearful eye.

Sing hymns and songs of praise,

For my heart is panting again to hear
Thine own sweet voice my mother dear,
Ere I hear the lays

Which shall shortly burst on my ravish'd ear,
Where no joy decays.

Wipe off these bitter tears,

That scorching fall on thy pallid face,
Where anxious watching has left its trace;
For the morn appears,

And I must depart from thy loved embrace
To celestial spheres.

Mother, thine own sweet voice

Is the sweetest music now to me,
For it soothes my soul with its melody,
And makes my heart rejoice;

And to die, with my thoughts fixed on heaven and thee,
Was my hearts first choice!

We'll meet my mother THERE;
We'll meet above in that blessed clime,
Whose glories we cannot know in time;
Nor can words declare

The peace, the joy, and the bliss sublime,
That our hearts shall share."

Then ceased the tones so mild!

And the mother her darling sang to rest,
Ere that song was done she was with the blest;
Her beloved child,

With bright gems crown'd, and in white robes dress'd,
Pure and undefiled.

From Frazer.

"MOTHER," said little Jane Beaumont, one fine frosty morning, "I should so like to go upon the ice. It looks so very smooth that it seems like plates of glass spread out over the water. It must be very nice to walk on it."

"Yes, it looks so, my dear; but, like some other things, the ice is deceitful sometimes, and not to be trusted. I dare not let you go upon it alone. If you wait until the afternoon, I will try to take a walk with you down into the low fields which were flooded a few days ago; and which perhaps are frozen now, and there, as the water will not be deep, we shall be quite safe."

Jane thought the time long; but at length it struck three, and mother being ready, they set out. Mother, who had now lived long enough to know how to take care of herself, threw over her shoulders a famous thick warm cloak with a hood, which passing over the neck and head, sheltered both from the sharp winds, and

kept them warm and comfortable. Jane, too, had, by her kind mother's direction, put on her warmest winter clothing, with her muff and mittens.

"Mother,” said Jane, "what made you say the ice was deceitful sometimes-I cannot think how it can be deceitful."

"Well: you shall see, Jane."

Arrived at the meadow, they looked out for a proper place for getting on the ice.

"Oh: here, mother, here we can get on,

smooth."

it looks so

"Stop, stop, you must not venture to tread there. You would soon have gone through if you had. Look, now-dont you see that all this piece round here has been broken to let the cows drink, and it is only this morning's ice. There! we will break it-now you see it is not thicker than a penny piece."

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"Well, now I see. If you had not been here I should have gone on it without thinking anything about it.” Yes, I knew that little folks often do things without thinking. As the water is not deep, you would only have got wet in the feet, but if it had been deep you might have been drowned."

"I see now, mother, that it is better that you are with me. But how shall we get on the ice."

"This way my dear-there now, we may step on without fear. It is strong here. But mind-thereyou will be down if you do not mind."

"Oh dear, I cannot stand-I slip about so. Mother, take hold of me. It is not so nice walking on ice as I

thought it was.'

"Come then, I will hold you up. Now look down through the ice-it is as clear as glass-you may see the grass at the bottom."

"So I can, mother: well; and if there is not a little daisy at the bottom. Is it not a daisy mother-look!" "I believe it is, my dear-it looks like one-and it is not at all unlikely; for sometimes the daisy will

GOING ON THE ICE.

appear in December and January too if the weather should happen to be open. Dont you remember those pretty verses in your "British School Book" on a "Field Flower."

"Oh yes, I do: and they say so—

'There is a flower, a little flower,
With silver crest and golden eye,
That welcomes every changing hour,
And weathers every sky.

The prouder beauties of the field

In gay but quick succession shine,
Race after race their honours yield,
They flourish and decline.

But this small flower, to nature dear,

While moons and stars their courses run,
Wreathes the whole circle of the year,
Companion of the sun.

It smiles upon the lap of May,

To sultry August spreads its charms,
Lights pale October on his way,
And twines December's arms.

'Tis Flora's page: in every place
In every season, fresh and fair,
It opens with perennial grace,
And blossoms every where.

On waste, and woodland, rock and plain,
Its humble buds unheeded rise;
The rose has but a summer reign,

The daisy never dies.""

So Jane and her mother passed a pleasant half hour on the ice, making their remarks on all they saw as they went along-mother taking care to go only where the ice was old and strong.

"There, now my dear, we will go back-we have been out one hour, and that is long enough on a cold winter day. Besides I think there is a storm of snow coming. Look at yon dark cloud, and listen how the