The Children's Page.

THE LITTLE WANDERER. arms, little Jenny, one day, Rambled out in the beautiful sun,

WITH puss in her

To a wood, near her home, to gambol and play,
And give her dear kitty a run;

And both were as happy as happy could be,
Chasing each other in light-hearted glee.

They had rambled about for an hour or so,
Until both were quito tired with play;

Then Jenny said, "Now pussy, dear, we must go;

I don't know what mother will say."

And Jenny looked round, and before, and behind, Alas! not a trace of her home could she find.

duct has given great trouble-he is disobedient to his teacher in class, brings his lessons unprepared, and sometimes instead of coming to school as his master wishes, remains away in the society of bad idle boys. The teachers and myself have thought about and talked over this matter together, and have resolved at last to put the question to you, my dear childrenshall we expel him, or shall we give him another chance?"

Silence followed the teacher's words, when at length a quaint, prim-looking little girl rose timidly from her seat, and said in a meek little voice-"If you please, teacher, I think

THE RESTORED.

we had better dig about him and dung him."

A titter and laugh went round the school at this odd remark; and the poor child sat down quite abashed. But her teacher explained that he had been speaking of the parable of the barren fig-tree, and reminding the scholars that since God is so patient with us we ought to be patient with one another.

The advice thus given was taken; the boy was told to come again next Sabbath, and during the week many were the prayers that ascended to heaven on his behalf from the

hearts of all the teachers; more especially did Mr. Jones, the young man in whose class Thomas Ward was, beseech the Lord in his mercy to change the boy's wayward heart.

Some fifteen years after this, a respectablelooking young couple called at Mr. Jones's house requesting to speak to him for a few minutes; they both rose when he entered the room, the man touching his forehead with his hand, and the young woman dropping a curtsey.

"What is your business, my good people?" said Mr. Jones.

"Oh, sir," replied the man, "don't you remember Thomas Ward, the boy in your Sunday class that was so bad that you thought you must expel him?" "And me, sir," said the young woman, with a blush and another curtsey, "I am Emily Smith that was."

From a painting by J. Clark.

"And she's my wife now, sir," put in Thomas; "she begged you and the other teachers to keep me and try me again."

Then Mr. Jones remembered the circumstances the little girl's quaint application of

the text, and his own and his fellow-teachers' prayerful wishes for the boy.

"Yes, my friends," said he, holding out a hand to each, "I recall it all now; and right glad am I to see you again, apparently so happily situated."

"Yes," said Thomas, "we've been married a twelvemonth come next Monday, and a better wife than mine here no poor man could wish for; and we are come over now to see

Emily's mother, and show her the boy, a rare little 'un."

The young couple soon took leave of their friend and former teacher, who blessed

the Lord for fulfilling in his experience the promise, "Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days."

CHOICE SAYINGS.

A GOOD conscience is good company.
A life of ease is mostly a life of sin.
He who lives to learn will learn to live
There is a time for all things.

He who does not love truth will soon not know it.

Anger resteth in the bosom of a fool.

THE BIBLE ILLUSTRATED.

"Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward."-Hebrews x. 35.

THE martyr Cargill, on the scaffold, 1681, as he handed his wellused Bible to one of his friends that stood near, gave this testimony:-"I bless the Lord that these thirty years and more I have been at peace with God, and was never shaken loose of it. And now I am as sure of my interest in Christ and peace with God, as all within this Bible and the Spirit of God can make me. And I am no more terrified at death, nor afraid of hell, because of sin, than if I never had sin for all my sins are freely pardoned, and washed thoroughly away, through the precious blood and intercession of Jesus Christ."

"For he cometh in with vanity, and departeth in darkness."-Ecclesiastes vi. 4.

THE REV. Dr. Cox, at a meeting of the American Bible Society, stated, with thrilling interest, a interest, a conversation he had with a gentleman, a few hours before his death. "As for the Bible," said the sage, "it may be true; I do not know." "What, then," it was asked, "are your prospects?" He replied in whispers, which, indeed, were thunders, "Very dark-very dark!" "But have you no light from the Sun of Righteousness? Have you done justice to the Bible?" "Perhaps not," he replied, "but it is now too late too late!"

chiefs suddenly came in full view

of each other, and but a few yards Each was apart. an excellent marksman. Both levelled and fired the same moment, but a cow on full gallop that instant passed between them and received both bullets in her body. Now had not the God of providence so ordered this event, there is much reason to suppose that both of them would have died on the spot. Both lived, however, to bless the Hand that saved them, and bowed together in the worship of Jehovah as brethren, and we hope they are now before the throne of God in heaven.

"In thy light shall we see light."-Psalm xxxvi. 9.

A BLIND girl in Germany came to her pastor, and gave him twentyseven francs (worth about a guinea of our money) for missions. Astonished at the large sum, the minister said, "You are a poor blind blind girl; it is impossible that you can spare so much for missions." "True," said she, "I am blind, but not so poor as you perhaps think; and I can prove that I can spare this money sooner than those that see." The minister wanted to hear it proved. "I am a basket-maker," answered the girl; "and as I am blind, I make my baskets just as easy in the dark as with a light. Other girls have, during last winter, spent more than twenty-seven francs for light. I had no such expense, and can therefore bring this money for the poor heathen and the missionaries."

informed officer. His conversation was sprightly and entertaining, but frequently mingled with oaths. When they were about to take the last stage, Mr. Wesley took the officer apart, and after expressing the pleasure he had enjoyed in his company, told him he was thereby encouraged to ask of him a very great favour. "I would take a pleasure in obliging you," said the officer, "and I am sure you will not make an unreasonable request." "Then," said Mr. Wesley, "as we have to travel together some time, I beg that if I should so far forget myself as to swear, you will kindly reprove me." The officer immediately saw the motive, felt the force of the request, and with a smile thanked Mr. Wesley.

"He that walketh uprightly walketh surely."Proverbs x. 9.

THERE was a lad in Ireland, who was put to work at a linen factory; on one occasion a piece of cloth was wanted to be sent home which was short of the quantity that it ought to be; but the master thought that it might be made the length by a little stretching. He thereupon unrolled the cloth, taking hold of one end of it himself and giving the other to the boy. He then said, " Pull, Adam, pull." The master pulled with all his might, but the boy stood still. The master again said, "Pull, Adam, pull." The boy said, "I can't."

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"Why not?" said the master. "Because it is wrong," said Adam, and he refused to pull. Upon this the master said he would not do for a linen manufacturer; but that boy became the Rev. Dr. Adam Clarke, and the strict principle of honesty of his youth laid the foundation of his future greatness.

RETURN OF THE
WOUNDED.

["THERE is something in that little word 'home' which lifts the heart into the throat, and ever excites intenso emotion in the British soldier on service. Let, for instance, but the bugle of a light regiment play Home, sweet home,' in the evening about tattoo time, and you will perceive an uneasiness creep into every chatting circle; and then silence will ensue, and many a head will be turned aside from the watch-fire to listen to that simple air, which, perhaps more than any other, conjures up in the mind's eye of all of us the comforts and pleasures of old England."Letter from the Crimea.]

WOUNDED and wasted,

Pain-stricken, weary;

How long the hours
In that voyage dreary;
One thought reviving
Alone is at hand,

Against despair striving,
"Can we see land ?"

Let me but see
Blessed England again,
Quickly will pass away
Every pain;

All I have suffered,
All I have done,

Will be motes in the beam
Of that life-giving sun.

Land of my birth,

Of my home, of my heart,

Take back thy wanderer
No more to part!

Have ye no tidings,
As watching ye stand?

Oh, gladden this heart

With "Land!--we see land!"

Far, far away

Is a dim line of cloud, A murmur arises

Grows loud, and more loud;
Birds are seen soaring,
A bright joyous band;
Hope becomes certainty,
"Land! we see land!"
Land for the healthy,
The hearty, the strong;
Land for the hopeful,
The bright, and the young;
Land for the hearts
That beat high never more,
But plaintively sigh
For a grave on its shore.
"Oh, blessing how great!'
The wanderer cries;
"Bear me where England
May gladden these eyes;
Untold the joy,
Priceless its worth,
Once more to gaze

On the land of my birth!"
They carry him forward,
And tenderly stand
While he wistfully looks
On the fast-nearing land;
There's a smile on his lip,
There's a light in his eye,
They pass, and he murmurs-
"I've seen! I can die!"
Brave soldier! whose heart
On his country was set,
Who in death as in life
Could never forget
The service it claimed,
And the love that he owed,
But a patriot's truth

In his last accents showed!
Ye who are citizens

Of that fair land,

Before which the fairest
Of earth's cannot stand,
Can you in Heaven's face
Truly declare,
That your
heart and your treasure
Are surely set there?

Make you your boast,
As you sojourn on earth,
Of the kingdom you're born to
By heavenly birth?
Fighting the fight
Of a glorious faith,
Are you strong in His might
Who was stronger than death?

Then joyfully onwards!
When life ebbs away,
The light of "the kingdom"
Shall shine as the day,
Dispersing the darkness
And terrors of death-
And "I've seen!-I can die!"
Shall employ thy last breath.

THE WIFE'S APPEAL.*

OH, don't go in to-night, John!

Now, husband, don't go in!
To spend our only shilling, John,
Would be a cruel sin.
There's not a loaf at home, John,
There's not a coal, you know;
Though with hunger I am faint, John,
And cold comes down the snow.
Then don't go in to-night!

Ah, John, you must remember,
And John, I can't forget,
When never foot of yours, John,
Was in the ale-house set.

From "Poems by W. C. Bennett." Routledge.

From a picture by J. D. Luari,

Ah, those were happy times, John,
No quarrels then we knew,
And none were happier in our lane,
Than I, dear John, and you.
Then don't go in to-night!

You will not go! John, John, I mind,
When we were courting, few
Had arm as strong, or step as firm,
Or cheek as red as you;
But drink has stolen your strength, John,
And paled your cheek to white:
Has tottering made your young firm tread,
And bowed your manly height.
You'll not go in to-night!