same health and peace rests on all friends of the Savior of fallen mankind. Dear brother, you will see the marks of age in my communication. I am with my son, in South Carolina. We are all in health, and glad to receive and hope to profit by the welcome Ladies' Repository.

LETTER FROM A LITTLE GIRL TO THE EDITOR.Thousands of our young readers will be interested in the following letter. It will not be wonderful if some other of his little friends-for he has more of them than he ever saw-should write to him. But he might not be able to publish all letters. A bushel basket is not large enough to hold all the corn that grows in the cornfield. Nor is the Repository large enough to hold all that is written for it. But to our letter: I am a little girl, and I live away down in the southern part of Illinois. I take your Repository. Pa said that my sister and I might give $2 and take it. But before it reached us the first time, my dear little sister fell asleep in Jesus. She was expecting it a few days before her death; but ere it reached our southern home, she was cold in death. Having never taken it before, she was longing for the time to come when she could read over its pleasant pages. But the holy messenger saw fit to call her home before she had time to read it. She fell asleep in Jesus, January 30, 1860, aged eleven years and two months. She was a very sweet child. She always loved to go to Sabbath school and meeting, and to read religious books; would never read any other kind, and I know your Repository would have been her most welcome visitor, for it contains such excellent reading, and that is what we all like.

Since we commenced taking your Repository we all can say we like it better than any magazine we have read lately, and now I think any one that reads its pleasant pages would not regret $2 to take it; I know I would not regret it. Since I have been taking it, every Sabbath I sit down and look over all that I have, and I always feel better after it. And every month we hear eager voices going to the post-office inquiring if the welcome visitor has come, and when they get it they are all so eager they can hardly wait till each one's turn comes to look at it.

It is the most welcome visitor we have; although it comes a great way to see us, it comes every month, and yet we were as glad to see it the last time as we were the first. I live away down here and do not have much company, and so we always welcome the Repository with open hearts. Before I close now, I would advise all sensible people to take the Repository. A LEAF IN MY LIFE'S HISTORY.-There are sad leaves in every one's life's history. But though sad, they are often freighted with lessons we would not wish to unlearn. Thus writes a correspondent:

On a beautiful winter-night, when the moon was shedding her calm and mellow light upon the quiet earth, and the stars, like sentinels, were watching over the serene beauty and dreamy slumber of nature, I was seated by the couch of my dying brother. The faint, flickering light told that the hour of midnight was approaching. Though I had not left his side for four days and nights, and had seen disease make slow but sure progress, I was unconscious of the new trial that awaited me. I knew not that in a few more hours I would be a friendless orphan, with no one upon whom to lean. A slight wave of his hand beckoned me nearer. I moved with noiseless step, and strained my listening ear to catch the faintest whisper, and thus he spoke: "God bless and protect you, sister darling, when I am gone. God has promised to be more than a brother to you; promise me, Vara, that you will put your trust in him." I was silent but a moment; an arrow had pierced my heart; I burst out in a wild cry; he raised his hand again, and I became perfectly silent. "Promise me, Vara," said he, more faintly than before. I promised, but with a murmuring heart. I saw a deathly pallor come over his face. I drew his hand in mine; I chafed it tenderly; but, ah! it was cold. I stooped and

called his name affectionately and passionately; he opened his eyes, and I never shall forget that look of mingled affection and joy; his face beamed with an unearthiy brightness, as he said, "Dear sister, I am dying; the cold death-damp is on my brow; but I fear not, for God is with me; the gloom has subsided, and a light more brilliant than the sun shall guide me through the dark valley of death. I leave earth without one regret; my spirit is now about to return to the God who gave it. Press your lips upon my brow, Vara, and clasp me in your warm embrace, for I am very cold-there-a little nearer-now the last kiss." I pressed my burning lips to his cold forehead, but I started back with a shriek; the last kiss had been given-for-he-was-dead. Thus the ruthless hand of Death plucked my idol from my embrace, and I was left to mourn his loss. Though a number of years have elapsed since my first wild grief passed away, I can not write this brief sketch without the tears falling thick and fast. I can see no longer to write. I must leave you, dear reader, to commune with Him who can dry all our tears. May God grant that our hearts may be reunited in heaven! A NEW POME."-A rising literary star writes to the "Rev. Daniel Wise, Editor of the Ladies' Repository," as follows. We give the letter and poem verbatim et literatim, as some writers afe very sensitive over any editorial mutilation of their manuscripts:

Here is a small Pome that I have composed. And if you think it worthy of a plaise in the (Ladyes-Repository.) or your Moral Publications, pleas insert it. And if proper let my name follow it." But if not, The Same.

We assure the author that in giving place to it in our Editor's Table, we have no design to rob him of the honor of its composition, though we hardly think it proper to "let his name follow it."

(SPRING TIME AND CHILDHOOD.)

O happy was my Childhood day;
I ran among the Clover blumes
When in the plesant months of May,
My Brother and I, O happ, happy day!

"I remember well the Old Oak tree"

That stood by the tangled Vine
Whos noble boughs gave Childhood shade to we
When in our Childhood prime,

If I had wings like yander tiney Ren,

That sits atop that stately Plum tree,

I'd dip them in the morning moist due, and then,
Would roame away the green groves to see.
And now with thoughts I'm cared back again
To wher I was a giddy Boy,

O then I ne'er had felt the plague of pane But every hour was pased in perfect joy, Sumtimes we'd dance along the pebled Brook And watches fishes in the watters play, Or seak the shade and with sum pleasing Book Pass many long and happy hours away. THE MISSIONARY IN MANY LANDS.-This work, just placed before us, contains a series of sketches of missionary life. They are nine in number, namely: The Ship Duff and her Voyage; A Long Night of Toil; The Pioneers of Bengal; Then and Now in New Zealand; The Cannibals at Fiji; Eighteen Months in a Death-Prison; Christian Martyrs of Madagascar; The Island Orphan Brothers; The Great Mutiny and Some of its Victims. No one can read these deeplyinteresting sketches, without having his heart quickened in the great missionary cause. This volume ought to find a place in every Sunday school library in the land. Mr. House, the author, is well known as the talented and popular assistant editor of the Western Christian Advocate.