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When the room was very quiet,
I heard some one call my name; All at once the window open'd,
In a field were lambs. and sheep; Some from out a brook were drinking,
Some were lying fast asleep!
But I could not see the Saviour,
Though I strain'd my eyes to see, And I wonder'd if he saw me,
If He'd speak to such as me! On a sudden I was gazing
On a world so bright and fair; It was full of happy children,
And they seemed so happy there.
They were singing, oh, so sweetly!
Sweeter songs I never heard. They were singing sweeter, mother,
Than can sing our yellow bird. And while I my breath was holding,
One so bright upon me smiled, And I knew it must be Jesus,
When he said, " Come here, my child !
" Come up here, my little Bessie!
Come up here, and live with me, Where the children never suffer,
But are happier than you see." Then I thought of all you told me
Of that bright and happy land : I was going when you call'd me
When you came and kiss'd my hand.
And at first I felt so sorry
You had call'd me; I would go, Oh! to sleep, and never suffer.
Mother, don't be crying so !
Hug me closer, closer, mother!
Put your arms around me tight;
But I feel so strange to-night!"
And the mother pressed her closer
To her overburdened breast;
Lay the heart so near its rest.
In the stillness dark and deep,
Little Bessie fell asleep!
THE TWO WEAVERS.
Mrs. Hannah MORE.
As at their work two weavers sat
“What with my babes and sickly wife," Quoth Dick, “I am almost tired of life; So hard we work, so poor we fare, 'Tis more than mortal man can bear.
“How glorious is the rich man's state !
"In spite of what the Scripture teaches,
" Where'er I look, howe'er I range,
Quoth John, “Our ignorance is the cause,
- Seest thou that carpet, not half done,
"A stranger, ignorant of the trade,
Quoth Dick, “My work is yet in bits:
Says John, “ Thou sayest the thing I mean,
" As when we view these shreds and ends,
“No plan, no pattern, can we trace;
“But when we reach the world of light,
“ What now seem random strokes, will there
“ Thou’rt right," quoth Dick, “no more I'll
AN INDIAN TALE.
Miss Crompton, Author of "Tales of Life in Earnest,” &c.
It is a hard task to read the past lives of kings in the East, for every page is full of the cruel wrongs done by man to man.
The name of Akbar alone recalls the memory of a wise and good Sultan, who ruled in love over his people. He lived more than three hundred years ago, and the princes of his time were not taught to read and write. Few persons could then be found in his kingdom who knew the use of a book, and Akbar sought far and near to bring these sages to his court that he might learn all they could teach him.
It was in the reign of Akbar that a very poor man brought up his only son Casim to speak the truth, and keep honest, with hardly food enough to eat. · When Casim was ten years old, he made up his
mind to try and work for his own living, and begged of his father to let him do so.
But, my son, what place do you think a boy of your age can be fit for ?
Casim said he was used to work hard all day, and besides that, his father had taught him the use of figures; and in the city of Agra they had a friend who might help him to find bed and board until able to pay for his living. This was very true, and the father felt his son was right, and that it was his duty to consent; but he said Casim must wait until a caravan came by, which means, a large party of men with camels and horses, going through the land to trade from place to place.
A new vest and turban were all that Casim wanted, . or could have, to make ready for his travels.
In a few days the time of parting came, and with many tears, Casim bid farewell, and left his home.
Hope was strong in the boy's heart, for all was new in the world before him. When near Agra Casim was left to go on alone to find the house of his father's friend. His mind was full of thought as to what he should say, and he soon reached the street, but alas! all was changed, -the good man was dead, and his things were sold up.
Poor Casim! His bright castles in the air were gone at once ; he had not a soul to speak to.
Hungry and sad, he sat down on a door-step and wept his face bent down upon his hands.
After awhile some one passed by, and thus spoke to him: “My child, why are you alone in the streets so late to-night ?"
Casim told his sad tale.
Casim was half-afraid to obey; and the stranger said, in a kind tone,“ Come, you have nothing to fear.” Then Casim rose, and went with his guide through the finest part of the city till they came to a grand house built of white stone. Here a small key opened the