the station of the Kurumans, and do his duty there as his father before him. The occasion of this second visit to England, all will regret to learn, is failing health. "I was," he said, in response to a cordial welcome from the Society he had so long and faithfully served,-" I was a martyr to wakefulness; I was dying by inches. Nothing could induce sleep-no matter what kinds of opiates I employed. A week would pass without a moment's sleep, a month perhaps with very short intervals. I was not only a wonder to myself but to others. Occasionally I got a little sleep; but that was only the prelude to no sleep at all for a long period. I thought of taking a journey into the interior; but, after further consultation, I at last came to the conclusion to come home, and saw my path in that direction clear. I have been received with kindness passing description. How it is to go with me I know not. I shall do all that in me lies for the advancement of the missionary cause. I shall not fail wherever I am to use all the means within my power, by presence and word, to advance that great cause to which I have devoted my life. It would have been pleasant just to have remained with the people among whom I have laboured so long, by whom I am loved, and whom I love. Oh, that parting was a scene hard to witness without deep emotion! Not only from Christian converts but from heathen chiefs did I receive tokens of good will. Their amanuenses brought letters deploring my departure, and presents to induce me not to quit the country, promising to give me so much more if I would but remain. It is consolatory to think that the influence of the gospel in that dark, benighted country is spreading, and is going into the interior, covering hamlet after hamlet, until its advance, let us be assured, will cover the whole land."

It only remains to add that Mr. Moffat has now finished his translation of the entire Bible, which he will now see through the press. When he last visited England there was only a limited number of natives who could read their own language. Now there are thousands who can read in their

own tongue the wonderful works of God. They will come dozens of miles for spelling-books and hymn-books. Some of them are able to conduct services in outlying villages; and Mr. Moffat's testimony is, that though these evangelists may sometimes wander from their texts, they never wander from the gospel. A great change has passed over the people in dress, in behaviour, in agriculture, and in domestic life. A dozen missionaries are at work in the field in which at one time Mr. Moffat was the sole labourer; and several churches are to be found in districts which at one time seemed completely beyond the power of gospel influences. While we pray that the last years of our venerable friend may be full of peace, we would take to ourselves the encouragement wherewith he encourages himself, that "Ethiopia shall yet stretch out her hands unto God."

The Dying Child's Dream.

HE cottage home was very still

TH

A home on the wild moor

Flowers crept in at the window sill,
And round the cottage door.

The glorious sun's last rays were shed
Into a homely room,

And there upon a small white bed
The shades of death had come.

A little fair-haired child there slept-
A child of seven short years;
And by her side a father wept
His bitter silent tears.

"Father," she said, "I've had a dream

So wondrous, bright and fair,

That it to me like heaven did seem,

And, father, I was there.

"The glories of that splendid place,

Oh! I could never tell

And then, the brightness of that face
Whose look upon me fell!

"It was the face of Him who loved
The little children so-

And if I could, I would have moved,
For I longed to Him to go.

"But soon He came to me and said,
'My little one, rest here ;'

And He laid His hand upon my head,
And then I knew no fear.

"He said that I must shortly go,
And live with Him up there--
And never have nor pain nor woe,
And feel no earthly care.

"But, Sir, I said, I cannot come
And live with you just yet:
My father's all alone at home,
And I'm his only pet.

"We've lived together all our life

We've never been apart;

We've never had one word of strife--
Oh, Sir, 'twould break his heart!

"And I am sure we always love
To read and talk of You:

And we speak of our happy home above Sometimes the whole day through.

"For surely, Sir, I must be right, In thinking You the same,

Who long since left this world so bright And on the earth once came :

"And Jesus Christ is still your name,

Here in this world above,

And I am sure you're just the same,

And just as full of love!

"Oh, father! scarcely had my voice

Uttered that glorious name,

When I heard the angels sing, 'Rejoice, Jesus is still the same!'

"I could not bear to stand alone, So I gently, softly crept

Closer and closer to His throne,

And at His feet I wept.

DON'T think I shall ever go there any more," said Harriet Russell to Mary Todd. The two women had just left the comfortable room in which, every Tuesday afternoon, a large number of working men's wives were assembled for a mothers' meeting, and were walking home together.

"Not go any more!" said Mary, looking in astonishment at her companion, "whatever makes you say that? I thought you liked it so much."

"So I do, for a great many things," said Harriet. “I like the reading well enough, and the bits of things we can get by paying in a little at a time are a great help; but I

was vexed when Mrs. Maudsley brought in that missionarybox to-day. I'm not going to give any of my money to such things, I can tell her; and if I don't I know she'll think I'm stingy, so I'll just stay away."

"I don't think Mrs. Maudsley would want you to give anything if you can't afford it, Harriet."

"Of course I can't afford it! I'd like her to try and keep house on twenty shillings a week, and see how much she'd have to spare for missionary-boxes. It was only the other week, too, that she was giving us such grand advice about saving our money against a rainy day, and now she wants us to give it away! I think some folks don't know what they're talking about."

"It's just as Mrs. Hartwell used to talk to me," said Mary, more as if she were speaking to herself than to her companion.

"And who's Mrs. Hartwell?" asked Harriet, sharply-for the appearance of the missionary-box had not soothed her naturally irritable temper.

"I lived three years with her before I was married," said Mary, "and I'm sure they were the happiest years of my life; she was so kind and good to us servants that we loved her as if she'd been our mother; but nobody could have taken a liberty with her, for she knew her place, and she taught us to know ours."

"But what's that got to do with missionary-boxes ?" asked Harriet, impatiently.

"It made me think of what she used to say about saving and giving," answered Mary. "She used to advise each of the girls to lay by a little of our wages in the savings-bank every quarter; I saved two pounds each year whilst I was there, and six pounds was a nice thing to begin housekeeping with when William and I got married."

"It was that," said Harriet.

"And she would say to us so kindly," continued Mary, 'Now girls I shall be pleased to help you about your dress; I like my servants to have a good stock of clothes, and to be