ITH lovely flowers and gay songs of birds, the gentle warmth of early summer brings also thousands of beautiful and busy insects. Of them all none is a greater favourite than the butterfly; VOL. I.-No. 6. and as we may learn wisdom from the bee and the ant, so this tiny creature too comes to us with its lessons; for it is a very curious thing that a butterfly's short life is just a little picture of the far grander and the never-ending exis- say, though everything else tence of man. Every one knows that the butterfly comes from a kind of caterpillar. Some, who have examined this little worm with the help of a microscope (a glass used to make objects look larger), tell us that there is another small creature enclosed within it, which is just the butterfly ungrown. The caterpillar spends its dull life among the herbage on which it feeds, then seeks some quiet place of shelter, where, covering itself up in a soft silken clew, it falls asleep and (as it were) dies. But, by and by, from this state of death the butterfly comes forth in all its living beauty. The varied hues of its wings gleam bright in the sunshine, and all the long summer day it flits through garden and meadow, sipping perfumed juices from the sweetest flowers. Now, is there not here, first, something very like the life of man in this poor sinful world, then something very like his death, and last of all, something very like his ris ing again in glory? Is it not an emblem of the Christian? But sometimes, strange to I have described takes place, no butterfly comes forth. The cause of this is very wonderful. Some very little insects live in the inside of others and feed upon them, but when it happens that one of this kind attacks the caterpillar, it makes its way to the little butterfly within, and feeds upon it alone. The caterpillar itself all the while appears quite healthy, and, at the usual time, retires to its deathlike rest, but when it is examined, nothing is found but the empty skin. The butterfly within has been secretly destroyed. How like, again, is this to the ungodly man! Outwardly perhaps he is all his days prosperous and happy, but sin is secretly killing his soul, and when the last great change has come, he finds, what he may never have dreamt of before, but finds too late, that his soul is lost! Oh! how very, very sad it is to think that many, who might live for ever and ever in the glory and bliss of heaven, will never enter there, because in this world they love sin, and do not ask Him who died for sinners to save them from it Now! D. D. The Sunday School Locomotive. one of our Sunday schools, not long since, a visiting friend, who was ad dressing the school, remarked that he would like to see all the children like locomotives. coming into school with a train of new scholars The result was, the next Sunday, in came one of the boys, followed by five new scholars, all holding on to each other's coats, and he puffing away like a locomotive in motion. Would it not be well if all Sunday school scholars should become such locomotives?-Sunday School Advocate. M Atoms. CAMMA, I mean to be a missionary," said little Alice, looking up with her bright face from a book she had been readinga narrative of missionary life. "Why do you wish to be a missionary, my child?" "Because they are so good, and do so much good. I want to do good in the world, mamma." "I hope you will, my dear," said the mother; "but there are many ways of being useful. God wishes us all to serve Him, and He will point out the right way for you to do it; it may be by going on a mission to foreign lands, or it may be by quietly doing good in your own family circle-being a little home missionary. You can be that now every day of your life." "I don't see much I can do here," said Alice; “I have to study almost the whole time, you know, and that does no one any good." "Yes, indeed, it does," replied her mother. "I read a sentence to-day, Alice. which made me think of you; it was from a quaint old author, who says, 'Lite is made up of two heaps, one of sorrow, and one of happiness, and whoever carries the very smallest atom from one to the other does God a service.' There is never a day in which you do not carry a great many atoms to one pile or the other." "Do I? Have I laid any on either to-day, mamma?" "Yes, indeed; when you spoke angrily to little Harry about the doll this morning, you made us both very uncomfortable, and put more than one atom on the pile of sorrow, and another when you pouted because I wished you to wear your hood to school. When you helped Mary Berrel to carry her basket, you laid an atom on the joy-heap-two atoms, I fancy, for she as well as I was made happier by the kind act. When you hung your cloak and hood, and put gloves and books all in their right places after lessons to-night, you put quite a large atom on my pile of joy. When you were thoughtless as to make a noise that woke baby from his sleep, and set him crying, another atom went on the heap of sorrow. When you picked upgrandmamma's spectacles with a smiling face, and pleasantly laid down your book to take up a stitch in her knitting, you 80 increased the pile of happiness." "Oh, how odd, mamma; what great big heaps they must get to be!" "Yes, indeed, for we are all constantly making the one or the other larger. I hope my little Alice will be always carrying atoms away from the pile of sorrow to lay on that of happiness; a few thus removed every day, and how much she will accomplish in a lifetime!" Papa's step was now heard at the door; Alice flew to draw his arm-chair close to the blazing fire, and place his slippers where they could get warm; and when she saw how pleased he looked to see them there, she whispered, "I think I put one very little bit of an atom on the joy-heap there, mamma.". American Messenger. What a Penny May Do. GRAIN of corn an infant's hand May plant upon an inch of land; Whence twenty stalks might spring and yield Enough to stock a little field. The barvest of that field might then Be multiplied to ten times ten; Which, sown thrice more, could furnish bread Wherewith an army might be fed. A penny is a little thing, Which e'en a poor man's child may bring Into the treasury of heaven, And make it worth as much as seven. How to be Loved. HE more children beams with love, you may be Did you ever think of that before? When a child's face Tales of the South Sea Islands. THE CAPTIVE SHIP. starvation or a dark prison staring them in the face. In their extremity the heart of the French captain was moved to mercy, and he found a passage back to Europe for them in a Portuguese ship. But, to crown their misfortunes, that ship, in turn, was captured as a smuggler; and after great hardships, the missionary band were landed first at Lisbon, and then found their way back to England, after ten months' absence, all their labour, as it seemed, lost, and their sufferings in vain. Yet it was not so in the sight of that Lord in whose cause they had endured. THE SKY OVERCAST. In Tahiti itself the mission was faring still worse. After their first burst of amazement, the natives shewed |