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having reduced his circumstances, it became necessary that he should go to sea. When his mother took her leave of him she gave him a New Testament, inscribed with his name and her own, solemnly and tenderly intreating that he would keep the book, and read it for her sake. He was borne far away upon the bosom of the trackless deep, and year after year elapsed, without tidings of her boy. She occasionally visited parts of the island, remote from her own residence, and particularly the metropolis; and in whatever company she was cast, she made it a point to inquire for the ship in which her son sailed, if perhaps she might hear any tidings of the beloved object, who was always uppermost in her thoughts. On one occasion she accidentally met, in a party in London, a sea captain, of whom she made her accustomed inquiry. He informed her that he knew the vessel, and that she had been wrecked; that he also knew a youth of the name of Charles --; and added, perhaps with too little reserve and caution, that he was so depraved and profligate a lad, that it were a good thing if he, and all like him, were at the bottom of the ocean. Pierced to her inmost soul, the unhappy mother withdrew from the house, as soon as she could sufficiently compose her agitated feelings; and resolved in future upon a strict retirement, in which she might at once indulge, and hide her hopeless grief. “ I shall go down to the grave,” was her lan

THE WIDOW's son. guage,“ mourning for my son.” She fixed her residence at one of the sea-ports on the northern coast. After a lapse of some years, a half-naked sailor knocked at the door, to ask relief. The sight of a sailor was always interesting to her, and never failed to awaken recollections and emotions better imagined than described. She heard his tale. He had seen great perils in the deep,—had been several times wrecked, but said he had never been left so dreadfully destitute as he was some years back, when himself, and “a fine young gentleman, were the only individuals of a whole ship's crew, that were saved. We were cast upon a desert island, where, after seven days and nights, I closed his eyes. Poor fellow! I shall never forget it.” And here the tears stole down his weather-beaten cheeks. “He read day and night in a little book, which he said his mother gave him, and which was the only thing he saved. It was his companion every moment; be wept for his sins, he prayed, he kissed the book, he talked of nothing but his book and his mother; and at the last he gave it to me, with many thanks for my poor services.

• There, Jack,' said he, 'take this book, and keep it, and read it, and may God bless youit's all I've got.' And then he clasped my hand, and died in peace.”. “ Is all this true?” said the trembling astonished mother. “Yes, madam, every word of it.” And then, drawing from his ragged jacket a little book, much battered and said,

time-woru, he held it up, exclaiming, “and here's the very book too." "She seized the Testament, descried her own hand-writing, and beheld the name of her son, coupled with her own on the cover. She gazed, she read, she wept, she rejoiced. She seemed to hear a voice which

Behold, thy son liveth.” Amidst her conflicting emotions, she was ready to exclaim, “Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.” “Will you part with that book ?” said the mother, anxious now to possess the precious re. lic. “No, madam,” was the answer, “not for any money, not for all the world. He gave it to me with his dying hand. I have more than once lost my all since I got it, without losing a treasure, the value of which, I hope, I have learned for myself; and I will never part with it till I part with the breath of my body."

B. F.
FOR A MISSIONARY BOX.
Will you, who with heavenly wisdom are blest,

That knowledge forbid to extend;
O will you deny to the weary a rest,

To the hopeless a beavenly friend.
Sweet pity and charity now would implore,

The gift of a boon e'er so small;
And may this, and whate'er you have given before,

Be repaid by the Giver of all.
May the bounties dispens'd by your liberal hand,

Cause the desert to blossom and sing;
Oh soon may the Lion lie down with the Lamb,
And the reign of our Jesus begin.

MARY EUGENIA.

LINES REPEATED BY A LITTLE BOY AT THE ANNUAL EXAMINATION OF THE NATIVE CHRISTIAN BOARDING SCHOOL AT

CHITPORE. BY THE REV. W. H. PEARCE. (We sometimes, in the spring or summer, give our readers a copy of verses repeated at Sabbath school Anniversaries in England. Here is one from the East Indies. Our little English readers will surely feel pleased to hear that Hindoo children, whose parents worshipped idols, are now enjoying these christian privileges, as well as themselves. Let us belp with our money and our prayers, those kind Missionaries, who, under God, have done all this good.]

O LORD, thy goodness we adore,

And thankfully confess
The mercies of thy providence,

The blessings of thy grace.
For habitation, food and clothes,

For all the body needs-
For wise iustruction, which alone

The nobler spirit feeds.
For health and life preserved, though near

The sick and dead we see-
O Lord! for all our praise accept,

Grateful we long to be.
These blessings of an earthly kind

Excite to praise our touigues;
But there are blessings, richer far,

Which claim our noblest songs.
Dumb idols were our fathers' gods,

Their souls were dark as night;
The living God now taught to serve,
They see the gospel light.

Though born idolaters, we too

A nobler state enjoy ;
Each is a happy Christian girl,

Or happy Christian boy.
We know the way of life-are taught

The road that leads to heaven; Blest be the Lord, to some the grace

To walk that road is given.

While thus to God, the source of good,

We first our praise address;
We now to you, respected friends,

Our grateful thanks express.
To you, who by your presence here,

Show for us kind concern-
And for the good of native youth

With strong affection burn;-
To all on Britain's favoured shores,

Or India's burning clime,
Who for us sacrifice their ease,

Their money, health, or time;-
To all, we owe a debt of love

We never can repay;
All we can give-a grateful heart-

Kindly accept, we pray.
May God in mercy crown your days

With every good you need,
Gently dismiss your souls by death,

And then to glory lead.

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