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Is that you, Teacher?

SUNDAY-SCHOOL teacher was expected home one Saturday night from a long journey. The village in which he lived was several miles from the railroad-station. There was no public conveyance, and not feeling able to hire a private carriage, he set out, cold and dark as it was when he left the cars, to walk home. As he plodded along, he kept his spirits cheerful by thinking of the pleasant greeting he should receive from his class at Sunday-school the next morning.

While he was yet some miles from home he heard a voice cry through the darkness,

"Is that you teacher?" "What! are you here?" he exclaimed, for he recognized

the voice as that of one of his scholars.

66 Yes, we are here," responded half a dozen boys as they seized his umbrella and carpet-bag and prepared to lead him home in triumph.

What made those boys walk so many miles on a dark winter evening to meet their teacher, think you? Because they loved him, eh? Ay, that was the secret. They loved him. Happy teacher? I wish all our teachers had their scholars' love as that good man had. How it would cheer them in their work!

My child, do you love your teacher? Show it by your good conduct, attention, and smiles. Depend upon it, your teacher values your love at a high price. He would prefer it to rubies or diamonds.

The Sleeping Babe.

HE baby wept!

The mother took it from the nurse's arms,

And soothed its grief, and stilled its vain alarms,

And baby slept!

Again it weeps!

And God doth take it from the mother's arms,

From present pain, and future unknown harms,

And baby sleeps!

Echo.

ITTLE George had no idea what an echo was. One day

he took it into his head to shout, "Ho! ho!" along the fields, and immediately he heard proceeding from a neighbouring grove the same words, "Ho! ho!" The little boy, very much atonished, called out, "Who are you?" when a mysterious voice answered directly, "Who are you?" Said George, "You must be some silly boy!" Silly boy!" returned the voice from the depth of the grove. Upon this George threw himself into a passion, giving utterance to language more and more irritating, echo faithfully imitating everything. Then he hunted about the wood for the boy who he supposed was answering him, that he might be revenged on him, but could not find any

66

body. After this fruitless search, George ran home, and complained to his mother that some naughty boy had hid himself in the wood on purpose to mock him.

"Ah, my dear child, you have betrayed and accused yourself. You have only heard your own words, for in the

same manner as you have often seen your face reflected in the water, so you heard only your own voice in the forest. If you had spoken in an obliging manner, you would have received a similar answer. So it is with us here below: the conduct of others towards us is generally an echo of our own. If we are polite to them, they will be so to us; but if we are unkind and rude to them, they will be the same. We cannot indeed expect anything else."The Children's Friend.

A Parent's Love.

EAR children, do you
ever think of the
great love for you

which dwells in the hearts of your parents? I am led to ask this question through a story by the poet Wordsworth, which I have often read, and on which I

happened to stumble just now. The poet was walking out one foggy morning, when he met a woman on the road. She was

"Not old, though something past her prime;

Majestic in her person, tall and straight,

And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait."

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Don't you think this picture of the poor old woman carrying the bird so far, because her son loved it, is very beautiful? How that old lady must have loved her boy! But how much more does God love you? God gave His only Son to die for you. That is love indeed. Jesus gave Himself up to death for you. That was great love, wonderful love. I trust you often think of God's great love for you. I hope you will all love Him in return for His love to you.-S. S. Advocate.

The Bright Change.

BUTTERFLY basked on a baby's grave,
Where flowers were trained to grow;
"Why art thou, gaudy flutterer, here,
While she so lovely, and sweet and dear,
Must sleep in the dust so low ?"

Then it lightly soared through the sunny air,
And said, from its shining track,

"I crawled on earth till I won my wings,
And she whom thou mournest, like a seraph sings,
Would'st thou call the loved one back?"

THOMAS PATON,

BOOKSELLER, STATIONER, AND PRINTER.

LONDON BIBLE WAREHOUSE,

7 HANOVER STREET.

BIBLES, PRAYER BOOKS, &c.

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Edinburgh: THOMAS PATON, 7 South Hanover Street.

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The Word: Walks from Eden. By the Author of "The Wide, Wide, World." Illustrated. 3s 6d.

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59.

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