sweet a smile, and with such evident gladness, that I almost doubted whether she was really Bessie. There was a meekness, and patience, and cheerfulness, in her manner, which, contrasted with her former demeanour, greatly surprised me; but when I began to speak to her of Jesus and his love, I no longer wondered at the change; for I saw that she had sat at his feet, and learnt of Him. Her heart was full of affection to the Saviour, and she longed to depart and dwell in his presence for ever.

She told me that she had often been impressed in the days of health with what I said to the class, and longed to speak to me about herself, but that she was ashamed to do so because the other girls laughed at her for being so serious. But when she was taken ill,

the truths of the Bible came back with renewed force to her mind; and she rested not until she found the Saviour, and was enabled to trust in Him. She shed many tears over the past, as we talked together; but her child-like faith was bright and unwavering; and as I walked home after that interview, I could only exclaim to myself, "What hath God wrought ?” “Oh thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt ?"

Dear little Bessie lingered for many weeks. She was doubtlessly spared for the benefit of others, as well as for her own growth in grace. I never witnessed a more rapid development of the Christian character than I beheld in her. She was indeed a lovely flower planted in the wilderness. Surrounded with sin and misery; dwelling in the midst of ungodly parents and ungodly neighbours, Bessie was a living proof to others of the power and grace of God. And the fragrance of her example was not unperceived, nor unfelt.

Her father, who died within a twelvemonth of his child, departed in the sure and certain hope of eternal life; and her mother is now a consistent follower of the Lord Jesus. Sweet Bessie! she was early transplanted to the paradise above.

"Where everlasting spring abides,

And never-withering flowers;"

but I love to think of her still, for was she not the first weg-warten which I discovered in my dreary and sorrowful path?

Dear reader, how can you tell that there is not a "Bessie" in your class?

Oh, how gladdening and refreshing it is, as we walk through life, to recognise, in the most unfavourable localities, one and another of the Lord's chosen ones! Such manifestations tend to strengthen our faith, and animate our hope. I remember being invited, and indeed obliged to spend some months with a worldly and irreligious family. How my heart sank within me at the prospect! How lonely and desolate I should feel without Christian intercourse and Christian sympathy! Steeped in pleasure, and folly, and dissipation, as I knew that gay household to be, what affinity could there exist between any of its members and myself? I had not then learnt the lesson of the wayside flowers.

In that thoughtless family, there was one, the youngest-born, a gentle, fair-haired girl, who feared and loved the Lord. Through adverse influences and withering temptations her early piety had budded and flourished. We took sweet counsel together, and went to the house of God in company. Very sweet to me is the remembrance of Emily B-, with her soft blue eyes, and beaming features. She is ever associated in my memory with the little Swiss Campanulæ; and now that she is married to a missionary, and labours with him in a far-distant land, I often think what a lovely flower has been sent to cheer and bless the dreary waste of heathenism.

Oh, there are many weg-wartens, besides my beloved Emily, growing and thriving where we little expect to find them. We cannot always see them, and there

fore we do not imagine that they are there; but "the Lord knoweth them that are his." Obadiah, in the midst of the perils and ensnarements of Ahab's service, was stedfast in his devotion to God; and when Elijah mourned because he deemed, that of the faithful, he only was left, God told him that there were no less than seven thousand in Israel, who had not bowed the knee in worship to Baal.

Yes, my reader, whether we regard the Christian graces which gleam forth in unlikely and unfavourable positions; or the bright encouragements which the prayerful teacher is sometimes permitted to behold; or the daily blessings which gem our path; must we not confess, that the dusty, crowded, and bustling highway of life, is richly marked with weg-wartens ? Do we not meet with many "wayside flowers "?

DORA.

"JOY COMETH IN THE MORNING."

NIGHT is the time for rest, oh, weary pilgrim;

The world is softly sleeping;

But sorrow's thrilling touch, repose hath banished
From thee, and thou art weeping.

Like a funeral pall, black clouds have gathered
Where joy's bright moon was rising;

And fear's dark dreams, instead of fancy's visions,
Thou now art realizing:

Therefore thou weepest. Oh, life's path is dreary;

Each budding hope has faded;

Thy heart is cheerless, like some grass-grown city
Once by fierce foes invaded.

Yet here and there sweet promises are gleaming,

Like stars that shine on high

When storms are raging; but thou canst not see them, For tears have dimmed thine eye.

Dark seems the future; but perchance its trials

Will lessen with their nearness;

Oft objects seen at midnight look alarming
Simply for want of clearness.

And are there no faint signs in the horizon
That day will soon be dawning?

Take courage; though the night be full of weeping,
Joy cometh in the morning.

How lovely is the morning! when clear sunshine
Darkness and mist dispelleth;

How radiant is the spirit! when joy enters

Where grief and sadness dwelleth.

Thou weepest now, lone pilgrim; but each teardrop

Will be exhaled to-morrow;

And songs of peace shall charm from thy remembrance The symphony of sorrow.

Then trust in God who watches o'er his servants

In hours of gloom and sadness;

And sends his angels down to guide their footsteps
To scenes of light and gladness.*

And when the night is darkest, weeping Christian,
Nor earthly joy seems dawning,

Oh, look by faith to heaven's resplendent glory,
And wait for its bright morning.

Acts xii. 7-10.

H. M. W.

DR. KITTO AND HIS WRITINGS.

IT will easily be conceded that during the last quarter of a century no name has been more honourably distinguished in this department of letters than that of Dr. Kitto, whose labours we now intend to bring before our readers; condensing our narrative from fuller statements, which may be found in the Journal of Sacred Literature.

We confess it gives us no ordinary satisfaction to have the opportunity of paying a tribute of public gratitude to a man who has done so much for biblical literature, and whose writings are so uniformly on the side of the highest forms of human virtue. We only hesitate in reference to our own ability to do justice to the subject, lest we should not with sufficient skill point out its characteristics. We shall have this satisfaction, however, that if the picture is not in the highest style of art, it is the product of sincere respect and affection.

It is seldom the case, comparatively, that laymen devote their attention, in this country, to theological studies in their professional and public aspects, or aspire to the character of biblical critics and expounders of the Word of God. This is partly owing to the fact, that in Britain the clergy are considered the only proper persons to engage officially in such pursuits. It is not so on the continent, where laymen can hold professorships relating to theology and biblical science, of which Sir J. D. Michaelis is a sufficient example. To this class Dr. Kitto belongs, although an error has extensively prevailed to the effect that he is a Clergyman. But although not a Minister of the Gospel, he is still a professional devotee to biblical literature and science; made so by following the path marked out for him equally by his own tastes and by the Providence of God.