CROSSING THE ALPS IN A BALLOON. hood of Turin. I determined to alight, which I did without any difficulty, having ballast enough to go much further. I alighted near a large farmyard, where I was surrounded by several watch-dogs, from whose caresses I was protected by my cloak. Their barking awakened the peasants, who were more surprised than frightened at seeing me. They admitted me to their house, informed me that it was half past two, and that I was in the village of Pion-forte, near Stubini, six kilometres from Turin. 66 "I passed the remainder of the night at the farmhouse, and in the morning the peasants accompanied me to the mayor, who delivered me a certificate, attesting my arrival. "After packing up my balloon and car, I set out for Turin, where I arrived at nine in the morning. I immediatedly sat down to write to the Director of the Château de Fleurs, in order to relieve the anxiety of my wife, friends, and the Marseilles public, who might be interested about me. I then repaired to M. Bois le Comte, the French Ambassador, who gave me a passport. At eleven the same morning, I attended the church of la Madre di Dio, where a funeral service was performed in honour of Charles Albert's death. This ceremony was followed by a review of the National Guard. I could hardly believe that the evening before I was at the Château de Fleurs, at Marseilles, 140 leagues off." This was a most extraordinary exploit, not exceeded by the six English gentlemen who, a few years ago, left England in a balloon one evening, and crossing the sea for the Continent, alighted in Germany next morning. But all such exploits are dangerous. We cannot approve of them. FLOWERS ?" It was a fine Saturday evening in the early part of July, when the writer of this, who is often employed on the sabbath in distant and destitute villages as an itinerant preacher, said to his wife, "I think I had better get ready my dear, as the distance to the railway is four miles, and trains you know, like "time and tide," wait for no man." "Yes," was the reply, "you will find all laid ready for you, in the front bed-room." I hastened up stairs and without loss of time prepared myself for setting out on my journey -a distance of thirty-five miles. As I passed out of my room I cast my eye to my right, where a door opened into my children's sleeping chamber, and there lay resting on the bed my youngest daughter eight years old; she had been ailing somewhat for a few days, and medical advice had been obtained; her brow was feverish, her pulsation somewhat quicker than ordinary, her cheek slightly flushed, and her eye had rather increased than diminished in brightness. I felt a worm at my heart as I planted on her forehead what alas! proved to be the last of unnumbered kisses, and as I said, "good bye, God bless you, ask the Lord to make you well," she faintly answered "yes!" On coming out of the room I cast back a lingering look, and as she was reading one of her "Children's Magazines," which she had placed before her face in a fanlike position, her right eye flung upon me its parting glance, and little did I think that its beaming brightness would, ere my return the next night, be quenched for ever! I left my home with an apparent, and perhaps a felt reluctance, for my wife has since remarked, "that I never lingered, or seemed to loiter so before." However within an hour I found myself at the station, and within the space of another hour or rather more in 66 WILL FATHER BRING ME SOME FLOWERS. ?" the vicinity of my field of labour for the following day. 99 On the next morning I arose, it was the sabbath; calm, bright, and beautiful, the fields and flowers were all loveliness. The swallow was on its wing, dipping down for the tiny fly which disported on the smooth surface of the glassy pool-the "busy bee was plying its task in collecting its sweet sustenance from the flower cups to treasure up for the coming winter-the bright waters were gliding along their winding pathway "fast by" the sanctuary "of God" -and the music of the village church bells wandered abroad on the gentle breeze. I thought of my home and its inmates, especially of my sickly child, and often did I raise a prayer to the Great Husbandman that my drooping flower might again lift its beauteous head. At the appointed "hour of prayer," I entered the "house," and found an attentive auditory gathered, waiting to offer up their "spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ." Service "begun, continued, and ended," preacher and people departed, and became scattered on their several ways. I had to journey a distance to a retired farm-house, where I had been invited by the kind proprietor to dine, and on my way overtook one of my female hearers, who had been up to the "temple to worship." She had reached the gate leading to a pretty cottage, just at the moment I was passing, and accosting her, I said, "you have a sweet quiet home here." "Yes," she replied," and plenty of flowers." Casting my eye along the front of the dwelling I beheld as magnificent a display of beautiful roses as it was ever my lot to look upon. They were clustered together at certain distances, and vyeing with each other in their "flowery pride," bathed in the splendours of a noon-tide sun, scattering perfume all around, and thus gladdening by their hues, and gratifying by their fragrance. I again thought of my child at home, and of a request she had often made, "will father bring me home some flowers," and I said, "may I request you to gather me a nosegay by the time I return, that I may carry it home to my little daughter who is ill?" "O yes," was the ready reply, "and that I will do with pleasure." So returning my thanks I went on my way, and presently found myself at the hospitable abode of my kind host. A pleasant, retired spot, surrounded by green meadows and yellow corn fields, pictures of emerald and gold. Having partaken of "what was set before me," and being refreshed by the repast, I walked to a neighbouring wood, once the property of that princely and patriotic man, Sir Thomas Gresham. There I found a large assemblage of people perhaps over 300, gathered by notices which had been placarded in different directions the neighbourhood around. A service was to be held and a sermon preached. At the appointed hour a portable pulpit, or rather cart, which well answered the purpose, was conveniently placed beneath the shading foliage of a majestic oak, in whose towering branches many a storm had held its revel. True indeed the painted window with its thousand hues, the "long drawn aisle," and the fretted roof, and all the gorgeous apparatus so sacred so essential in the estimate of some, were not there, but the blue sky was our canopy, the wild roses interwoven with the "living green" of the thick underwood-natures own needlework-formed our walls of tapestry, and the velvet sward, begemmed with "the modest crimson tipped flower," with "snowy border sunward spread,' was our carpet. And there we engaged in man's noblest employ, for there we worshipped God. There "the gospel was preached," and there its announcements were listened to with an attention and an intensity of earnestness certainly not exceeded in any "consecrated" spot on earth. ON A DROWNED CHILD. Let me not, however, tire your youthful readers by saying more than is needful. After the labours of the day were done, I found my friend had performed the promise, and on my return I brought a very large posy of fine roses, and thought as I came along, "how delighted my little girl will be with these when I get home." Alas! on my reaching my dwelling my little daughter was no more! the spoiler had been and nipped my sweet flower, and there she lay withered and dead. We placed a full blown rose in her snowy hand, others were strewed about her coffin. The breath of flowers perfumes her chamber, and a tall tree casts its shadow on her tomb, a dear innocent twelve months old lies beside her, and they will "go up together at the great resurrection." No more will father bring her home some flowers. This has been written to remind youthful readers that none are too young to die. There is a sweet verse I learned when a child, it is, I think, by Dr. Watts, and very appropriate for children. With it I will close my remarks. "Give me, O Lord, thy early grace, That the young morning of my days London, R. B. ON A DROWNED CHILD. WITH lightsome heart and tiny feet, |