ERIN'S HOPE.

DECEMBER 1, 1869.

A CONNEMARA TEA PARTY.

TO THE EDITOR OF "ERIN'S HOPE."

"Erin's Hope." Why was it, my dear friend, that those words made my heart so happy the last time I saw them? You would like to know where I saw them. Not on

the outside of the little friend who finds his way into so many homes month after month, with a message of joy, and blessing, and peace. I couldn't tell you how thankfully I welcome that little friend, though he only comes to me once in three months, in my English home. He seems to have something of the winning way of a little child about him,

and there are not many hearts that can resist the loving look, or the little request, or the sorrowful tale of a little child. It would encourage you, I am sure, could you know how your little messenger seems again and again to come with just the right message when he finds his way to my door. His little blue jacket has become so familiar, that when I saw him last month in a green jacket, I couldn't help wondering why he was changing from a "blue coat" to a green ccat" boy. I suspect the getting him ready for his monthly journey sometimes makes you a little anxious, and yet like some others who have children to care for, I doubt not the very care about him brings a blessing. At all events, he has this advantage over other boys, that he won't be made conceited by hearing that I think the child does credit to those who care for him. Perhaps it was because my mind was full of this change in the colour of

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his jacket, that my eye at once detected the same colour and the same words in a most unlooked for place the other day. Yes-there it was, "Erin's Hope," in large, well-made, evergreen letters, with a circle of bright evergreen leaves around it. And close beside it was another such circle, and inside it the word. "Truth." You will guess perhaps by this time that these were mottoes on a wall. There were other mottoes, but these at once caught my eye; and a rush of happy thoughts passed through my mind, as they brought before me my little friend. It is because of the "Truth" that is in him, and that comes out of him, that I love him so much; the truth told so lovingly, and the way in which those who listen to his little story are led in one way or another to know, and love, and trust, and serve Him who is "the truth."

And if you knew the place where I was standing, and the occasion

which brought me there, you would easily understand my thoughts, and how one couldn't help feeling that in the Truth known, and received, and followed, does indeed lie the brightest hope for Erin. It was a stirring sight, that large schoolroom, in one of the towns in Connemara ; the walls bright with the work of kind. and busy hands, and all the future hopes of Erin in that locality gathered together for a happy evening, through the kindness of some English friends who had been disappointed of a visit to the west. It was the last of a little series of school feasts provided by those friends, and I only wish it were possible to make your little friend. the reporter or photographer of those different Entertainments, each of them possessing some feature peculiar to itself, all of them encouraging and suggestive. But that cannot be. Perhaps it may be possible to say something of one or two of them.

Have your young readers ever heard of "The Flower of Moyrus," the Mission boat that plies between Roundstone and that most interesting of little Mission Stations, Moyrus. "Welcome to Moyrus,' were the kindly words that greeted me as I took my place in the Mission boat on the 20th of September, 1869, and it was not long before we were speedily, swiftly, and bravely, over the billows, under the skilful seamanship of the convert boatmen. To be sure we seemed now and then to come somewhat close to the water's edge, and from time to time a wave would dash over us, but Connemara waves, like Connemara showers, rarely do any real harm (they say), and I had seen enough of Moyrus on former occasions to make one ready to face any sea upon which those trusty boatmen would venture, in order to revisit our friends there. It was nearly seven o'clock when we landed, and the