work as a common laborer. It would be an evident loss of skill if the mechanic should break stones or sweep the streets.

9. There are certainly some evils which arise out of the great division of labor now existing in civilized countries. These evils are of no account when compared with the immense benefits which we receive; still it is well to notice them, and, in a proper way, to endeavor to prevent or overcome them.

CXXXVII. THE WIDOW'S LAST LOAF.

au-then'-tic, true; certain; echt; verbürgt.

su-perb', magnificent; herrlich.

ir-res'-o-lute, not decided; unentschlossen.

au-stere', severe; stern; streng; finster.

in-stinct'-ive-ly, acting without thinking why; instinktmäßig.

af-flict', to grieve; heimsuchen.

en-dear'-ing, tender; zärtlich.

mood, temper of mind; Stimmung.

em'-a-nate, to spring from; herrühren.
in-ef'-fa-ble, unutterable; unaussprechlich.

case'-ment, a glazed frame; Fensterflügel.

1. The following simple narrative is a sketch of real life. Every incident, all the details, to the minutest particular, are authentic.

2. It was evening-a beautiful autumn evening. The red leaves yet danced, rejoicing in the mild air, the yellow sunshine yet gilded the hill-tops, and the soft shadows were creeping silently up the valley, as the gentle widow Leedom, with her child in her arms, wended her way homeward.

3. She was tired, for she had toiled all day in a farmer's kitchen, and, though it was Saturday-evening, she had not been paid for her labor. The kind-hearted house-maid had urged her to wait for her supper, but she thought of her hungry little ones at home, and she could not stay.

4. She had no eye for the glory of that superb October

sunset as she walked wearily on, her tired arms scarcely able to hold the little joyous creature that laughed and crowed, and ever and anon peered into her bonnet, lisping his sweet-toned "mamma, mamma." She thought only of her expectant little ones, and the means of obtaining bread for them to last over Sunday.

5. As she approached the village, she seemed irresolute whether to enter it or pass on; but she thought of her lonely, fasting children, and she stopped. Her lips moved a moment or two as if in prayer; then quickening her step, and hurrying on like one who has nerved herself to a sudden resolution, she turned into the main street, and was soon standing before the counter of the baker's shop.

6. The baker was an austere man, but it was not in human nature to resist the widow's pleading tone and touching expression, as she falteringly asked him to trust her for a loaf of bread for a day or two. With scarcely audible thanks she concealed the loaf under her tattered shawl, and, drawing her babe closer to her bosom, hastened home.

7. "Mother's come! mother's come!" cried a couple of young, eager voices, as she entered the gate, and her seven-year-old Robert and his little sister came running to meet her. They were pretty children. The little Mary inherited her mother's mild blue eyes and delicate complexion, and the boy his father's handsome face and honest brown eyes.

8. Poor children! they were accustomed to being left alone, for the widow went out to work daily, and the night was always welcome that brought their mother's loved return. They had a thousand things to ask and tell, which this time fell unheeded on the ear of the sad mother, though she instinctively answered them yes or no, as occasion required.

9. She gave the loaf to Robert, and, taking little Mary's hand, entered the house with them. The table was already

set out by the little expectant house-keepers; but there was nothing on it that was eatable save a cup of molasses and some salt. The mother cut a slice of bread for each of her half-famished children, and sat quietly by, nursing the youngest while they ate it, for she had no heart to eat herself.

10. She was very sorrowful as she looked at those little dependent beings, and thought of her failing strength. She shaded her eyes with her hand, while the tears stole silently down her pale, patient face, and fell among the bright curls of the little unconscious head pillowed so peacefully on her bosom.

11. She had been sorely afflicted. The husband of her youth had been stricken down by a falling beam while attempting to save a sick child, that had been overlooked in the hurry and panic, from a burning building. The child was saved, but he who periled his life for it, the strong, brave-hearted man, had perished.

12. Of her four children, the eldest-born, the pride of her heart, had left her some years before, and was now a wanderer she knew not whither. The three youngest were dependent on their widowed mother.

13. Now, as she thought of her utter inability to support her fatherless children even in the summer-time, and saw no better prospect before her, whichever way she looked, and knew that the cold, drear winter was coming gradually on, her heart utterly failed her, and she could only weep. The wondering little ones tried by every endearing art to attract her attention, but in vain. Impressed by their mother's mournful mood, they ate their bread almost in silence.

14. When they had finished, she arose mechanically, and, laying her babe in its cradle, put them to bed. She heard them say their prayers; she said "Good night," and "God bless you," carefully and tenderly as usual, but with that subdued, spiritless tone that emanates from a heart without

hope. She continued kneeling by their bed-side long after she had prayed with them, and wept.

15. Bitterly she wept, but there was no pitying eye to see her now, no tender hand to caress, no loving voice to soothe, as the cry from her overburdened, despairing heart, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" went up over the unconscious heads of the sleepers, in that hour of agony. No pitying eye, did I say? The Eye that never slumbers nor sleeps was there.

16. The loving-kindness that has said, "I will be a Father to the fatherless," was about her even then, though she knew it not. In the power of the Spirit came the blessed assurance, in answer to her despairing cry, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee;" and her soul grew calm, all her old trusting faith returned, and she arose feeling that "the Lord is a very present help in time of trouble."

17. She took down the old worn Bible from the mantle, and as she read on through the closing chapters of St. John, an expression of peace ineffable," the peace that passeth understanding,"-settled serenely on her sweet face. Putting the Bible reverently back, she took some work from her basket, and soon the clear tones of a hymn sounded through the stillness of the little cottage.

18. But other eyes beside the All-seeing had been looking in through the low casement at the lonely sufferer; and now the sweet tones of the holy hymn were interrupted by a knock at the door. The widow opened it, and saw before her a weary, travel-stained man, who asked only for a crust of bread and a sup of water.

19. The widow glanced at the loaf which still lay on the table, and then at the sleeping children; she hesitated, but only for a moment. There was something in the tone of the stranger's voice that came gratefully to her soul. She thought of her own beloved boy asking for charity in some distant land; and she hastened to place a chair for the

stranger and reach him the loaf, trusting to Him "who causeth it to rain on the earth where no man is, to satisfy the desolate and waste ground" for her orphans.

20. "My mother! my own precious mother!" cried the familiar voice in broken tones; and springing forward, she was caught and strained to the beating heart of her longlost son. The Lord had become a very present help in time of trouble.

21. "My son, my son!" she could only murmur, while he exclaimed: "I am rich, my mother, I have plenty for us all; I have been to California, and have come back rich beyond all I ever hoped or dreamed of-my poor famishing mother! I am just in time-thank God! thank God!” And mother and son joined together in one glad, earnest prayer of thanksgiving. Knickerbocker Magazine.

CXXXVIII. DISCOVERY OF THE ALBERT N'YANZA.

un-rav'-el, to unfold; enthüllen.

im-per-ish-a-ble, indestructible; unvergänglich.
in-ter-sperse', to set here and there; einstreuen.

tack'-le, the apparatus used for fishing; Fischergerät.
plant'-ain, a tree of the banana family; Bananenbaum.
de-fer', to put off; aufschieben.

un-hes'-i-ta-ting-ly, immediately; unbedenklich; sogleich.

1. That night I hardly slept. For years I had striven to reach the "Sources of the Nile." In my nightly dreams during that arduous voyage I had always failed, but, after so much hard work and perseverance, the cup was at my very lips, and I was to drink at the mysterious fountain before another sun should set--at that great reservoir of nature that, ever since creation, had baffled all discovery.

2. I had hoped, and prayed, and striven through all kinds of difficulties-in sickness, starvation, and fatigueto reach that hidden source; and when it had appeared im