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their wits together, and this was the result : They had printed, in the London Times, their letters and messages to their friends, and then they had the Times photographed. One page of the Times, which is as large as our large Dailies, was photographed on very thin paper, about as large as a postage stamp. This tiny photograph was sent to a town where carrier pigeons were sent to Paris. You know that carrier pigeons that were brought up in Paris may be taken anywhere away, and when liberated, they will at once return to their homes in Paris. Well, these tiny photographs were tied to the pigeons and sent off. Arrived in Paris, one had only to take a microscope to read all the news with ease. But as there were too many waiting to read to be satisfied in that way, the photograph was put into a magic lantern, which makes things look larger, you know, and thrown on to a screen.

Clerks were employed to copy the messages and letters, and send them out to be read.

Perhaps some day, our books will be photographed, and we will read them with microscopic spectacles. We cannot predict to what results this peering into nature will

But, undoubtedly, the more we see of its mysteries, the more we shall admire and wonder.

lead us.

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PLEASE, SIR.”. “SIR, do you want to know how I was converted—I, an old gray-headed sinner?” said a good old

to a minister.
Yes, tell me,” answered the minister.

I was walking along one day and met a little boy. The little boy stopped at my side. * Please, sir,' he said, 'will you take a tract? and please, sir, will you read it?' Tracts ! always hated tracts and such things but that ‘please, sir,' overcame me. I could not swear at that kind spoken 'please, sir.' No, no. I took the tract, and I thanked the little boy, and I said I'd read it; and I did read it, and the reading of it saved my soul. I saw I was a sinner, and saw that Jesus Christ could save me from my sins. That please, sir,' was the entering wedge to my

old hickory heart.”

Moffat's First Sermon to the Hotteutots.

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of age.

HEN the Missionary, Robert Moffat, began to preach to the heathen, he was barely

On his arrival at the Cape of Good Hope, it was some time before he could get the consent of the government to preach outside the colony. There was a suspicion at that time that Missionaries going to the tribes in the interior, would

carry with them guns and ammunition. During the delay Moffat's time was not wasted. He lived with a pious Hollander who taught him Dutch, and, when he received the consent of the government, he was qualified to preach to the Boers, or Dutch farmers, and their native servants.

On his first start up the country, he begged a night's lodging of a burly farmer, who roared out his refusal like a beast of the forest. The homeless stranger, however, met with a better reception from his wife, and was offered both bed and board.

“Whither bound, and what's your errand?” he was asked; and, when told he was going to Orange River to teach the way of Salvation,—“What !” was the exclamation, “to that hot, inhospitable region ; will the people there, think you, listen to the Gospel, or understand it if they do ?

He was then asked by the kind-hearted frau to preach to her and her husband, which

gave
him

great delight. The Boer had one hundred Hottentot servants, but they did not

at first appear.

“May none of your servants come in?” Moffat said to his host.

“ Eh!” roared the man ; " Hottentots ? Go to the

mountains, and preach to the baboons; or, if you like, I'll fetch my dogs, and you may preach to them!”

The quick-witted Missionary, taking the word out of his rough friend's lips, read as his text, “Truth, Lord ; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table.”

The text was fastened as a nail in a sure place, as thoroughly as if it had been driven home by the Master of Assemblies.

“No more of that," cried the Boer, “ I'll bring you all the Hottentots in the place.”

He was as good as his word. The barn was crowded, and the sermon was preached.

“Who” said the farmer, in a more musical voice, “who hardened your hammer to deal my head such a blow? I'll never object to the preaching of the Gospel to Hottentots again.".

a

Yesus Loves Me."
NLY three months previously a good Bible-

woman paused at the threshold of
suffering and dying creature, and as she
listened to the blasphemy and curses that
came from within, had shuddered, and
thought, “Surely, Lord, “The darkness
is too great for me."

Constrained by the love of Christ to enter, she found a

poor woman reduced to a skeleton, wri. thing in agony, and breathing imprecations and oaths. Her soul was wrapped in the densest gloom, so much so, that during her paroxysms of suffering every one fled from her presence. She neither believed in God nor devil, and

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for some weeks every word that was spoken for Christ was silenced by an oath.

At length it occurred to Mrs. N- to sing a (hymn, and accordingly one morning, after dressing her wound and making her comfortable, she commenced

I will believe, I do believe,

That Jesus died for me. “ What is that you are singing, about Jesus died for me?" asked the poor (woman immediately—a question that met with a joyful response, and led to earnest conversation between them on the sufferings and love of Christ.

It was some time after this that Mrs. N-, ng as usual, found the husband and children, and three of the lodgers, around the bed of the sufferer, listening in amazement to her singing the joyful strain

I will believe, I do believe,

That Jesus died for me. In one of the darkest moments of her agony, the Spirit of God had flashed across her soul the remembrance of the sufferings of Christ; and as she thought of His love, heaven's morning broke for her—the shadows fled away, and she stood before the cross-forgiven.

“ Jesus ! Jesus! He loves me, He died for me !" was the cry of the new-soul.

Only those who witnessed the sudden transition from darkness to light can fully realize the glory of that scene. A friend visiting her and sympathizing with her sufferings, she said, “ Mrs. dear lady, speak to me of the sufferings of Jesus. He loves me and died for me.” Through the house in the stillness of the night, during the hours of her mortal anguish, might be heard her cry, “ Jesus, "Je

sus ;” and when at length the angel of life released her soul, its last breathings were the sweet name of Jesus.

The morning cometh, after many a dark and stormy night, when the believer, tempest tossed and half a wreck, casts anchor on the Rock of Ages, and sings, “My soul, hope thou in the Lord, for I shall yet praise Him, who is the strength of my countenance and my God.”

Varieties.

DANDIE.

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A NEWFOUNDLAND dog, belonging to a gentleman in Edinburgh, was in the habit of receiving a penny each day from his master, which he always took to a baker's shop and exchanged for bread for himself. One day, a bad penny had been given by a gentleman by way of frolic. Dandie ran off with it to the baker's as usual, but was refused a loaf. The poor dog waited a moment, as if considering what to do ; he then returned to the house of the gentleman, and when the servant opened the door, he laid the penny at her feet, and walked away with an air of contempt.

SOME years ago an effort was made to collect all the chimney-sweepers

in the city of Dublin, for the purpose of education. Among others came a little fellow, who was asked if he knew his letters.

“Oh! yes," was the reply.

“ Do you spell ?”

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