CALLED HOME.

E have received the following interesting account of the happy death of a little boy, from the Rev. George Bruce, of Swan River, N. W. America :

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"In November of last year the whooping-cough was very prevalent in my district, and most of the school children suffered from it; so severe was the epidemic that six of them died before it had run its course. Among these was one little fellow who dearly loved his school, and was seldom absent from his place there, even when sickness might well have excused him.

I am

"One Sunday, although very ill, he accompanied his mother to church, and during the service was taken so much worse that he was carried home and placed on his bed, from which he never rose again. I visited him every day, and on one occasion, seeing his lips move as if he were trying to speak, I called his mother's attention to him, who said, 'My son, do you want anything?' 'No, mother,' he replied; ‘I was repeating the prayers I learned at school. very sick, and know it is very likely that I must soon die, but am not afraid, because Jesus Christ has said, "Suffer little children to come unto Me and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." These words comfort me so much that I would rather die than live, for I know that I shall be for ever happy with my Saviour.' This simple confiding faith he held until he was taken into rest a few days after.

"His mother, who is a pious, earnest woman, told me that prayer appeared to be the ruling principle in his mind he loved prayer so much that she has frequently known him to leave his bed in the middle of the night and fall on his knees in silent prayer,

nor could he rest until fully assured that his younger brother had also offered up his petitions at the throne of grace.

"This little fellow's prayerful trust in Jesus was not without its influence on others. His father, who had been a careless, worldly man, has been led to seek for true peace where only it can be found-family prayer has been established in his house, and he is now a consistent Christian."

DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN GIRL AT

W

IBADAN.

She was

E have often heard of Mrs. Hinderer, whose death some time ago was a sad loss to Ibadan. Shortly before she came back to England for the last time, she sent us a very interesting account of a girl, fourteen years of age, who died after a severe illness of a few weeks. Her father was a very sincere Christian ; her three eldest brothers were baptized, and two of them were communicants. baptized as a child when she was four years old. When she was lying on her sick bed, she told Mrs. Hinderer that she had never before felt the power and blessing of all she had been taught, and that now God was showing her in her heart the blessing of salvation; and she knew she had a Saviour in Jesus Christ. She had precious words of comfort and encouragement for her father and her brothers ; but she warned them also, telling two of them that she believed they were in earnest, but that she feared another was tempted a little from the straight road when going about trading, and spending much time where God is not worshipped, and Sunday utterly unknown. To her mother, in the most loving way,

she said, "Mother, with your feet you have gone to God's house, not really for the good of your soul, but for other purposes; this is not enough, you must strive with your whole heart after God, and His great salvation through Jesus." Their heathen relations and neighbours, who were constantly in and out, were greatly struck by hearing her talk about death, and said, "This must be a wonderful religion which could make any one not afraid to die!" A short time before her death, worn out by pain and weakness, she exclaimed, "Oh, for patience! but if it pleases God to let me go soon, how glad I shall be!" Her heathen aunt, sitting by her, said, "Where would you Oh, go to God; go to go ?" die-die here, and go to live with God." The woman was awed at the idea of a child desiring to die; and she came to the burial, and on Sunday to Church ; for she said she wanted to learn how to die like Moleyeh.

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Jesus

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CHRISTIANS AT SINGAPORE.

A

GENTLEMAN who has lately been at Singapore writes :-"There is a small band of Chinese Coolies in the middle of the Island of Singapore, and when they meet together in the name of Jesus Christ, their heathen countrymen pull up their gardens, and steal their pigs, &c. Yet these Christian men pray for those who ill-treat them, because Jesus is their Lord, and they obey His Word. The last thing I heard before leaving the Island was, that the head man and some of their persecutors were thinking of joining them."

THE MISSIONARY PENNY.

SHOULD you wish to be told the best use of a penny,
I'll tell you a way that is better than any.

Not on apples, or cakes, or playthings to spend it;
But over the seas, to the Heathen, to send it.
Come, listen to me, and I'll tell, if you please,
Of some poor little children, far over the seas.

Their skins are quite black; for our God made them thus:

But He made them with bodies and feelings like us :
A soul, too, that never will die, has been given,
And there's room for black children with Jesus in
heaven.

But few there's to tell of such good things as these
To the poor little Heathen, far over the seas.

Poor children in this land are well off indeed; They have schools every day, where they sing, sew, and read;

Their church, too, on Sunday, and pastor to teach How the true way to heaven through Jesus to reach ; Yet, sad to remember, there's so few of these

For the poor little Heathen, far over the seas.

Poor blacks have few schools to learn reading and singing;

No Sunday for them, with its cheerful bell ringing;
And most little blacks have no Bibles to read.
Poor little black children, you're ill off indeed!
But one penny each week will procure some with ease,
For the poor little Heathen, far over the seas.

Ah! think, then, of this when a penny is given,
"I can help a poor black on his way home to heaven."
Then give it to Jesus, and He will approve,

Nor scorn e'en a mite if 'tis offer'd in love.

And oh! when in prayer you to Him pend your knees, Remember your brethren, far over the seas.

LADY WRIOTHESLEY RUSSELL.