the lights approached, my assailants rushed pell-mell into the jungle. A howl, loud and of long continuance, dying away in the distant woods, indicated the direction the pack had taken; and though dismal enough, appealed to my sense of gratitude for deliverance from the throats which gave utterance to it. The next morning I reached a civil station, where I obtained medical assistance and rest, which I badly needed, and in due course came on to Benares."

After reading such anecdotes as those we have related, our young friends will probably be disposed to concur with us in thinking that the novelties of sight and sound which continually present themselves to the traveller in the East, form, after all, but a poor compensation for the safety and comfort of an English home. They will, therefore, be ready to regard with increased respect and admiration the men who, from motives of pure Christian benevolence, voluntarily exchange the latter for the former.

REST IN GOD. In a time of great perplexity, Dr. Tyler said to a friend, "I am past being troubled; I have committed myself to God, and wait the guidance of His hand." How simple and right-only what every "child of God" ought to do, and is encouraged by his heavenly Father to do-yet how rare and glorious an achievement! The man who can do this is a hero. We are too apt to be cowards in the presence of trials and perplexities: our hearts are faint; we tremble and despond. But what, then, of God, of prayer, of the promises of Providence? Or shall we trust only when we can trace? believe only when we can see? Ah, any one can walk in the sunshine; it is the storm and darkness that try the Christian. It is his high and blessed distinction, that he can walk by faith, as seeing Him who is invisible.

The child leans on its parent's breast,
Leaves there its cares, and is at rest;
The bird sits singing by its nest,
And tells aloud

Its trust in God, and so is blest
'Neath every cloud.

It has no store, it sows no seed;
Yet sings aloud and doth not heed;
By flowing stream or grassy mead
It sings to shame

Men who forget, in fear of need,
A Father's name.

The heart that trusts for ever sings,
And feels as light as it had wings;
A well of peace within it springs :
Come good or ill,

Whate'er to-day, to-morrow, brings,
It is His will!

A Conscientious Quaker.

N the Beerenstraat (Bear-street), at Amsterdam, is a very neat building, occupied as an infant school. The premises comprise several schoolrooms, an open play-yard, a covered playroom for wet weather, and a residence for the superintendent. One hundred and twenty little boys and girls are here carefully educated at an almost nominal charge. The history of this school possesses a special interest for Englishmen. During one of the wars of the last century, when Holland was at war with the enemies of Great Britain, an English privateer captured a Dutch merchant vessel and cargo of considerable value. Amongst the owners of the privateer was a Quaker, named John Warder, who objected to the use of the ship for privateering purposes, but whose objections were overruled by the other partners, who did not share in his scruples against war. When the spoils were divided, Mr. Warder duly received his share; but, feeling conscientiously precluded from appropriating it to his own profit, he retained the money till the end of the war, when he caused different inquiries to be made in Holland for the owners or the surviving representatives of the captured vessel and cargo. So far as the inquiry was successful the losses were paid. But there still remained unclaimed a considerable sum of money in hand, which was allowed to accumulate at interest, with the intention of its being appro priated in some manner to the welfare of the Dutch people. At length a merchant of Amsterdam, the late Mr. John S. Mollett, the last survivor of the Society of Friends in Holland (founded there, as in England, by George Fox and William Penn), undertook to superintend its expenditure for the purposes of an infant school for the poor of that city, which was commenced in 1830. After an interval of about thirty years, it was considered desirable to extend the school and erect better premises. Accordingly, some friends in England, at the invitation of the late excellent Peter Bedford, "the Spitalfields Philanthropist," raised a further sum of money, and sent out an English architect, Mr. William Beck, of London, under whose direction the present neat and convenient building was erected in 1864. This effort was the closing exertion of Mr. Bedford's life, and his portrait, together with those of Mr. Fry, Mr. Gurney, and other worthies, now forms a valued ornament of the school walls. An inscription also records the circumstances which led to the establishment and extension of the school, as a result, mainly, of the Scriptural views of the Friends (as of the early Christians generally) against all war, and in favour of peace and international conciliation.

Ripon.

THE NEW YEAR.

"A HAPPY New Year!" from many tongues,
In joyous tones we hear;

And hark! how the bells so merrily ring,
"Welcome the new-born year."

Yet, with sorrowful feelings our bosoms swell,
As we give to the old year a sad farewell.

'Tis gone, yet memory will recall

Its varied scenes to view;

Its eventful hours, with their light and shade,
Still passing in review:

We thoughtfully scan them, but do not repine,

For the whole we see blended with goodness divine.

Time, with its silent, untiring wings,

Doth ever onward move;

Ah! what is our life, with its grief and care,

Or its lot of joy and love?

'Tis but as the transient meteor's gleam,

The vanishing vapour-a shadow-a dream!

Yet all-important our moments are,

Be they many or few,

For passing away to the great unknown,

They bear a record true

Of gentle words spoken, of actions sublime,

Or of gifts that are wasted in folly and crime.

Then let us strive, amid life's turmoil,

The victor's prize to win;

Let us kindly lessen another's woe,

Lure from the paths of sin;

So the blessing of Heaven our spirits shall cheer,
And this shall be truly "A happy New Year."

M. W.

UR illustration on the opposite page is copied, by the kind permission of Mr. Gullick, of Old Bond Street, London, from a very beautiful little picture by the well-known artist, H. H. Couldery, Esq., which was recently exhibited at the exhibition of the New British Institution, at the gallery, 39, Old Bond Street. It is well composed, well drawn, and well coloured. The fluffy texture of the coats of the little Skye puppies is very descriptively rendered, and with appropriate spirit and freedom in the handling. But the chief merit of the picture resides in the close observation evinced in the physiognomical character and gestures, so to speak, of those mischievous little creatures. The artist has not only made himself acquainted with the droll ways common to puppies in general, but he has mastered the quaint and almost human expression which so peculiarly distinguish this particular breed. The playful movements of the young of all animals are full of grace and fun, and we all know that the Skye terrier yields to no domestic creature in sagacity. The situation which the painter has provided for the puppies, of course, essentially helps the genuine humour of the representation. A wardrobe door has been incautiously left open, and the result is before us. Master "Jack" and his partner in mischief have rolled out and broken through a bandbox, and therefrom extracted a bonnet, the veil of which the latter is proceeding to tear; while Jack himself, feeling master of the situation, is content to plant his paws outside the box, and, with his head slightly awry and twinkling eyes, to survey the wreck with a comical expression of triumph. A no less happily conceived touch is that of the peering kitten in the background, who, longing to share in the sport, is yet fearful of joining those rougher playmates.