THE LITTLE BEGGAR GIRL.

I WATCHED her as I sat at work, –
My lovely infant child,-

And blessed her placid, fair, white brow,
Her eyes so soft and mild.

I marked the dove-tones of her voice,
Her quiet, winning ways;
And saw how full of tender love
Were little Mary's plays.

At length she stood up by my side,
Leaving her playthings small;
And murmured softly, "Now I'll play
Poor little beggar girl!"

Then, taking up a tiny shawl,
She threw it o'er her head;

Timidly lisping, "Will you please
Give me a piece of bread?"

With basket on her round, white arm,

With fair and dimpled face,

Like a sweet image, there she stood
In touching, childish grace.

Not heeding much her saddening brow, "Poor little girl!" I said,

“And is your mother hungry too? And does she want some bread?

Quickly the shawl and basket fell,
Sad tears were on her cheek;

And, sitting down, she sobbed and cried,
As though her heart would break.

Dear, pitying angel! had she lived
Where want and sorrow roam,
How many weary, wandering souls
Had found in her their home!

But had she lived, how frequently
She might have sought in vain
For the sweet tears of pitying love,
To soothe her own heart's pain.

We bless our God that she is now
On that celestial shore

Where little beggar girls and boys
Shall roam in want no more.

'Mid pastures green, by waters clear,
The sweet lambs all are led;
The gentle Shepherd feedeth them
With his own heavenly bread.

FILIAL TRUST.

F. E. H.

"TWAS when the sea with awful roar
A little bark assailed,

And pallid fear's distracting power
O'er each on board prevailed,

Save one, the captain's darling child,
Who steadfast viewed the storm,
And cheerful with composure smiled
At danger's threatening form.

"Why sporting thus?" a seaman cried, "Whilst terrors overwhelm?"

"Why yield to fear?" the boy replied: "My father's at the helm?"

A TRUE STORY.

It was one of the first days of spring, when a lady, who had been watching by the sick-bed of her mother for some weeks, went out to take a little exercise, and enjoy the fresh air. She hoped that she might hear a bird sing, or see some little wild-flower which would speak to her of future hope; for her heart was heavy with anxiety and sorrow. After walking some distance, she came to a rope-walk. She was familiar with the place, and entered. At one end of the building, she saw a little boy turning a very large wheel. She thought it was too laborious work for such a child, and, as she came near, she "Who sent you to this place?" Nobody: I came of myself.” "Does your father know that you are here?" "I have no father." "Are you paid for your labor?" "Yes: I get nine pence a day." "What do you do with your money?" give it all to my mother." "Do you like this work?" "Well enough; but, if I did not, I

spoke to him. she asked.

" I

should do it, that I might get money for my mother." "How long do you work in the day?" "From nine till twelve in the morning, and from two till five in the afternoon." "How old are you?" "Almost nine." "Are you never tired of turning this great wheel?" "Yes, sometimes." "And what do you do then?" "I take the other hand." The lady gave him a piece of money. "Is this for my mother?" said he, looking pleased. "No: it is for yourself," she replied. "Thank you, ma'am," the boy said; and the lady bade him farewell. She went home, strengthened in her devotion to duty, and instructed in true practical Christian philosophy, by the words and example of a little child; and she said to herself, "The next time that duty seems too hard for me, I will, like this little boy, not complain, but 'take the other hand.'"

E. L. F.