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same health and peace rests on all friends of the Savior of called his name affectionately and passionately; he opened fallen mankind. Dear brother, you will see the marks of age his eyes, and I never shall forget that look of mingled affecin my communication. I am with my son, in South Caro- tion and joy; his face beamed with an unearthiy brightness, lina. We are all in health, and glad to receive and hope to as he said, “Dear sister, I am dying; the cold death-damp is profit by the welcome Ladies' Repository.

on my brow; but I fear not, for God is with me; the gloom LETTER FROM A LITTLE GIRL TO THE EDITOR.

has subsided, and a light more brilliant than the sun shall

guide me through the dark valley of death. I leave earth Thousands of our young readers will be interested in

without one regret; my spirit is now about to return to the the following letter. It will not be wonderful if some God who gave it. Press your lips upon my brow, Vara, and other of his little friends for he has more of them clasp me in your warm embrace, for I am very cold-there-a than he ever saw-should write to him. But he might little nearer-now the last kiss." I pressed my burning lips not be able to publish all letters. A bushel basket is

to his cold forehead, but I started back witb a shriek; the

last kiss had been given-for-he-was—dead. Thus the not large enough to hold all the corn that grows in

ruthless hand of Death plucked my idol from my embrace, the cornfield. Nor is the Repository large enough

and I was left to mourn his loss. Though a number of years to hold all that is written for it. But to our letter:

harc elapsed since my first wild grief passed away, I can not I am a little girl, and I live away down in the southern write this brief sketch without the tears falling thick and part of Illinois. I take your Repository. Pa said that my fast. I can see no longer to write. I must leave you, dear sister and I might give $2 and take it. But before it reached reader, to commune with Him who can dry all our tears. us the first time, my dear little sister fell asleep in Jesus. She May God grant that our hearts may be reunited in heaven! was expecting it a few days before her death; but ere it A NEW “Pome."-A rising literary star writes to reached our southern home, she was cold in death. Having the “ Rev. Daniel Wise, Editor of the Ladies' Reposnever taken it before, she was longing for the time to come

itory," as follows. We give the letter and poem when she could read over its pleasant pages. But the holy

verbatim et literatim, as some writers ate very sensitive messenger saw fit to call her home before she had time to read it. She fell asleep in Jesus, January 30, 1860, aged

over any editorial mutilation of their manuscripts: eleven years and two months. She was a very sweet child. Here is a small Pome that I have composed. And if you She always loved to go to Sabbath school and meeting, and to think it worthy of a plaise in the (Ladyes-Repository.) or read religious books; would never read any other kind, and your Moral Publications, pleas insert it. And if proper let I know your Repository would have been her most welcome

my name follow it." But if not, The Same. visitor, for it contains such excellent reading, and that is

We assure the author that in giving place to it in what we all like. Since we commenced taking your Repository we all can say

our Editor's Table, we have no design to rob him of we like it better than any magazine we have read lately, and the honor of its composition, though we hardly think now I think any one that reads its pleasant pages would not it


to “let his name follow it." regrot $2 to take it; I know I would not regret it. Since I

(SPRING TIME AND CHILDHOOD.) 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

O happy was my Childhood day; month we hear eager voices going to the post-office inquiring

I ran among the Clover blumes if the welcome visitor has come, and when they get it they

When in the plesant months of May, are all so eager they can hardly wait till each one's turn

My Brother and I, 0 happ, happy day! comes to look at it.

“I remember well the Old Oak tree" It is the most welcome visitor we have; although it comes

That stood by the tangled Vine a great way to see us, it comes every month, and yet we were

Whos noble boughs gave Childhood shade to toe as glad to see it the last time as we were the first. I live away

When in our Childhood prime, down here and do not have much company, and so we always

If I had wings like yander tiney Ren, welcome the Repository with open hearts. Before I close

That sits atop that stately Plum tree, now, I would advise all sensible people to take the Repository.

I'd dip them in the morning moist due, and then, A LEAF IN MY LIFE'S HISTORY.-There are sad

Would roame away the green grores to see. leaves in every one's life's history. But though

And now with thoughts I'm cared back again sad, they are often freighted with lessons we would

To wher I was a giddy Boy,

O then I ne'er had felt the plague of pane not wish to unlearn. Thus writes a correspondent:

But every hour was pased in perfect joy, On a beautiful winter-night, when the moon was shedding

Sumtimes we'd dance along the pebled Brook her calm and mellow light upon the quiet earth, and the

And watches fishes in the watters play, stars, like sentinels, were watching over the serene beauty and

Or seak the shade and with sum pleasing Books dreamy slumber of nature, I was seated by the couch of my

Pass many long and happy hours away. dying brother. The faint, flickering light told that the hour

THE MISSIONARY IN MANY LANDS.—This work, just of midnight was approaching. Though I had not left his side for four days and nights, and had seen disease make placed before us, contains a series of sketches of slow but sure progress, I was unconscious of the new trial missionary life. They are nine in number, namely: that awaited me. I knew not that in a few more hours I The Ship Duff and her Voyage; A Long Night of Toil; would be a friendless orphan, with no one upon whom to The Pioneers of Bengal; Then and Now in New Zealean. A slight wave of his hand beckoned me nearer. I

land; The Cannibals at Fiji; Eighteen Months in a moved with noiseless step, and strained my listening ear to catch the faintest whisper, and thus be spoke: “God bless

Death-Prison; Christian Martyrs of Madagascar; The and protect you, sister darling, when I am gone. God has

Island Orphan Brothers; The Great Mutiny and promised to be more than a brother to you; promise me, Some of its Victims. No one can read these deeply. Vara, that you will put your trust in him." I was silent but interesting sketches, without having his heart quicka moment; an arrow had pierced my heart; I burst out in a

ened in the great missionary cause. This volume wild cry; he raised his hand again, and I became perfectly ought to find a place in every Sunday school library silent. “ Promise me, Vara,” said he, more faintly than be

in the land. Mr. House, the author, is well known as fore. I promised, but with a murmuring heart. I saw a deathly pallor come over his face. I drew his hand in mine;

the talented and popular assistant editor of the WestI chafed it tenderly; but, ah! it was cold. I stooped and

ern Christian Advocate.

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