"O! how I should like to be able to read the book of the sky!"

"Astronomers read the book of the sky, philosophers read it, and why should not Christians? Yet among the thousands who are daily looking at the pictures of this book, how few are there who comprehend what they mean! Thousands have not yet learned the Alphabet of the skies. But listen, while I explain the language of a few of these pictures; for God speaks by them to us, and we ought to understand Him. When we see above our heads at night, the great book of the sky opened, and the glowing picture of the stars spread out before us, it is as though God was manifesting his wisdom, power, and goodness to us; and the language of the picture is, 'Believe me!'"

"I knew you would make it come right.”

"When the tempest is abroad, and the big black clouds hang heavy in the air-when the forked lightnings flash to and fro, and the bursting thunder seems to shake the solid earth and the heavens-when the rain comes down like a deluge! what says the awful picture of the skies? It says, as distinctly as if the voice of the Holy One was heard, 'Fear me!'"

"That is an awful picture! I seem to understand all that you mean, now, uncle."

"When the storm has passed by, and the rain has subsided-when the heavens are lit up on one side by the glorious sun, and spanned on the other by the glowing rainbow, the picture of the sky appeals to every eye and heart. God speaks through it, and his language is, • Trust me!""

"Better and better! I do see that you may really read the pictures in the sky."

"When the heavens above are clear, and bright, and blue, and peaceful; and when the piled-up snowy clouds with their sunlit edges are still-when the vault above is so beautifully tranquil that our spirit feels expanding with joy and thankfulness; again it appears as if God were speaking, and the language of the picture of the new book is, Love me!'"

"You should have been a painter, uncle!"

"When the rising sun is gilding the firmament with glory, and when his setting beams are mingling purple, azure, and crimson, with a flood, nay, a sea of molten gold; we look at the picture with astonishment and admiration, and though half blinded by our tears, we are still able to read what is written in the picture before us. Hardly could the Lord of heaven and earth utter more distinctly the expression, Praise me!'”

"You make the meaning of every picture so plain, that it must be just as you say."

"I have now explained the language of a few pictures in the new book; but sometimes the pictures so mingle what | is striking, awful, convincing, beautiful, and transporting, that one thing at a time is not enough to satisfy us, and we are compelled to believe, fear, trust, love, and praise him altogether."

"Well! I did not expect, uncle, when you called out to me, Another new thing, Cecil! another new thing!" that it would turn out to be what it is. At first, after you talked of thousands of large pictures,' I felt disappointed to find that it was the sky you meant; but you have satisfied me. The sky is a new book to me now, and I shall do my best to learn to read it, and to understand as many of the pictures in it as I can."

A FAITHFUL DAUGHTER.

IN one of the interior districts of an American State, there lived, some twenty years ago, a family by the name of Kilpatrick. They were regular attendants on the ministry of the Rev. Mr. C., the worthy and intelligent pastor of a large Presbyterian church in the immediate neighbourhood. Mr. K. had several children-one, an interesting little daughter, about eleven years old, at the time of which we speak. Her name was Elizabeth; but she was usually called Betty, by her family. She was going to school in the country, where there was a score of girls, ranging from

six to fifteen years of age, besides a number of little boys. The lady who had charge of the school was pious, and always opened her school with prayer. She prayed for the children, and taught them the plan of salvation. One of her scholars attended a meeting in the neighbourhood which resulted in her conversion. She returned to the school, and told all the children what great things God had done for her. A general seriousness began to pervade the school. She then proposed to the girls that they should make them a little bush meeting-house, out in the woods, and that she would conduct a prayer-meeting for them every day, during the hours of recreation. They all consented, and soon broke down bushes and built them a place for prayer. There they all met together, and their sweet, bird-like voices mingled charmingly together, as they swelled up in the forest, hymning the praises of God. A revival commenced among them. Among the first that were converted was Betty Kilpatrick. She was so happy that her full soul seemed as though it would burst her frail confinement and mount up to heaven.

On the evening of the day on which she was converted, she hastened home, as soon as the school was dismissed.

She had about a mile and a half to go. Everything around seemed to wear a new and lovely face. It was a summer eve. The shadows were growing long as she entered her father's farm. The sunlight was painting a parting smile upon the fleecy clouds piled among the horizon, as she entered her own sweet house. Her mother was alone, with her babe and one of the smaller children. Her father and brother were on the farm. As soon as she entered the house, she flew to her mother's chamber, and clasping her snowy arms around her neck, and imprinted a kiss upon her cheek, she exclaimed, "O, mother, mother! God has converted my soul. O God has converted my soul. O I am so happy. Glory to God for

ever."

The mother was startled. She scarce knew what to do. "Hush, Betty, hush," she said.

talking about?"

"What are you

"O, mother," said Betty, "I am so happy; God, for Christ's sake, has converted my soul."

"Why, Betty," said her mother, "you are going crazy.” Hush, be still. What do you mean?"

"O, mother!" said Betty, "God has pardoned my sins, and I am so happy."

Just about this time the father came in. alarmed. "What is the matter?" he exclaimed.

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He was

"O, father, father," said Betty, "God has converted my soul. I am so happy."

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'Why, Betty," said the father, "you are going crazy." "No, no," said Betty, "God has pardoned my sins; and if you and mother will bow down upon your knees, I will pray for you, and God will convert you too."

The mother began to weep, and the father to tremble, while Betty pleaded for them almost like an angel. Her face was beaming-her language was unearthly-she begged of them to begin to pray; and so powerful and irresistible were her appeals, that the mother could resist no longer; and she knelt down, crying aloud, "God be merciful to me a sinner. O Betty, pray for me." Presently her father covered his face, and knelt down too; while Betty, with one arm round her mother, and the other round her father's neck, began to pray, and they prayed; and there began a meeting that resulted, in a few days, in the happy conversion of the father and mother, and two or three older brothers. But the influence did not stop there. It went out into Mr. C's congregation, and spread in every direction, until hundreds of souls were the happy subjects of divine grace.

How often God brings sinners by a way they knew not, illustrating his sovereign disposals. An apparently trivial cause sometimes starts influences that extend in every direction, through a thousand channels, and uncounted years, and brings about joyful, tremendous results in time and eternity. The conversion of one little girl, the erection of the bush meeting-house in the deep forest, the prayer-meeting house conducted by the young convert, resulted in the conversion of Betty Kilpatrick, and her

conversion led to the conversion, first of the parents and brothers, and then of many souls besides. How many

more shall be converted in consequence shall be known in heaven.

To-mor

How much good a little child can do. Try, my dear little reader, to do some good. Begin at once. row may be too late.

THE PRIEST AND THE ROBBER.

FORTY years ago the scenes here related occurred in the heart of France. A Roman Catholic priest was called on to prepare for his last change a highway robber about to perish on the scaffold. The good father used all his eloquence and all his efforts, to lead the prisoner to repent of his aggravated crimes in vain. He observed that the mind of the latter was absorbed that he seemed to heed him not. What could engage his thoughts at such an awful hour?

"Do you reflect," said the priest, are to appear before your Maker?"

"that in two hours you

"I do," said the criminal, "but I wish to live and repent, not to repent and die; and the thought has come into my brain-and I can't for the soul of me drive it out-that you are the very man to save me from death, not to pave my way to it."

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'But," said the priest, "even if I had the power-I cannot see that I have-should I not be doing a wrong to mankind by setting you free, and be subjecting you to a further load of guilt?"

"If that's the only obstacle in the way, you may, good father, be entirely easy on that score. I have seen the scaffold too near, ever to expose myself to its terrors again. Never will I rob or defraud more. I will be henceforth a changed man."

With eyes imploring and bathed in tears, he knelt before the priest and begged his life. He appealed to a kind heart, and saw the impression he had made. The chapel in which