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OUR CHILDREN'S PORTION.

PAPA'S LETTER FROM NORWAY TO HIS LITTLE DAUGHTER IN STAFFORDSHIRE.

Christiania, 1854.

MY DEAR LITTLE GIRL,-AS papa has the opportunity of sending a few lines home, he gladly spends a little time in writing a little note to his dear little girl. If you will ask mamma to lift you up to see the large map, she will show you the place from which I write. Christiania is many, many miles from England; and to get here, we have had to cross the sea in a great boat. On the way we saw many strange things, such as very curious fishes, that looked bright in the water like so many tiny lamps, and birds that had flown away from their nests, out of sight of land, and floating about in the rough sea, just the same as those swans you saw when we were living at your "Sandon Home."

And do you know we saw a hawk, more than a hundred long miles out at sea, and he flew about our ship as though he would like to perch there; but we soon lost sight of him. Then, the moon shone so brightly we could see to read as we walked about the ship; and as the waves rolled by us, they looked just like bright silver. Sometimes the sea was very rough, and our ship rode up and down the waves; and when the water seemed just ready to break over the vessel, then we were far away in a minute; for you must know that our ship was moved by steam, like the railway carriages are in which you have so often had a ride.

On Sunday papa sat at the very end of the ship, and read out of mamma's bible, and thought of home, and of dear mamma, and of his little girl, and of his boys at the Sundayschool, and of many other things; for though he was many hundreds of miles away, he could not help thinking of you. He also thought how very good God had been in keeping him in safety on his voyage, and he felt thankful for God's goodness. I hope that while I am away, you will be very kind to mamma and very good, and give as little trouble as possible. I hope you do not let either "Miss Passion" or "Miss Pert" come into the house, but that you are gentle and obedient.

I have many tales to tell you about the children here, and when I come home I will take you on my knee and tell you how they dress, for they dress quite differently from English children, and how they talk, for you could not understand them. Do you know they say "Ya" for "Yes?" Isn't that

funny? "A nice little girl" they call "smokke pige " or as we should say, "smoky piggy!"

At Christiansand we saw a little girl and boy not much bigger than you are, rowing a boat in the open river, just the same as if they were man and woman; and the women here never wear bonnets, but put handkerchiefs over their heads, and very neat some of them look.

The houses are built of wood happy, my dear," said her and painted different colours, mother. "I think I noticed and the roofs are all covered the tears upon your cheeks. with red tiles. The people eat I will not say it is a little thing, all sorts of queer things, and for the troubles of children cook in all sorts of queer ways. seem great to them; but I trust But all these things I will tell you will be patient, and wait you when I return home, if you patiently for good weather." are a good little girl.

Papa sends you his very, very best love, and many kisses for his dear little girl and her dear He hopes to be at home soon, and will then say what he has not time to write

mamma.

now.

"Mother, you have told me that God knows everything, and that he is always good. Then he must certainly know that there is but one Saturday afternoon in the week, and that this is all the time I have to play with my little friends. He must know that it has rained now these three holidays, when I wished so much to go abroad. And can he not make sunshine whenever he pleases?"

Papa has seen but one cat since he left home, and there are very few singing-birds here, but the ponies are beauties-and so tame. The people drive them in what they call "carioles " "We cannot understand all in summer, and in sledges in the ways of God, my child; but winter. There are also many the Bible tells us he is wise and bears and wolves, but they live good. Look out into your litin the large thick forests, and tle garden, and see how happy seldom are seen except in winter, the rosebuds are to catch the and then, when they are short soft rain in their bosoms, and of food, they come to the towns the violets lift their and villages. sweet faces to meet it; and as A few months ago, some the drop falls into the quiet wolves were near the house stream, how it dimples with where I now write this note. gladness and gratitude. The cattle will drink at the stream, and be refreshed. Should it be dried up they would be troubled; and were the green grass to grow brown and die, they would be troubled still more, and some of them might perish

But as I have many more letters to write, I must conclude with again sending you love and many, many kisses from

YOUR VERY AFFECTIONATE
РАРА.

how

THE LITTLE GIRL AND for want of food."

THE RAIN.

"MOTHER, it rains," said a little girl, who was looking out of the window. "I am sorry not to make a visit to Emma. She invited me twice before, but it rained; and now it is raining hard again."

"I hope you will not be un

Then the good mother told her daughter of the sandy deserts in the East, and of the camel, that patiently bears thirst for many days; and how the fainting traveller watched for the rain-cloud, and blessed God when he found water; and she showed her the picture of

the camel and of the caravan, the skies sent their blessed rain, and tid her how they were and the earth gave forth her sometimes buried under the fruit. Many other things the sands of the desert. And she good mother said to her child told her the story of the mo- to teach and entertain her. ther who wandered in the wil- Then they sang together a sweet derness with her son, and when hymn or two, and the little girl the water was spent in the bot was surprised to find the aftertle, she laid him under the shade noon so swiftly spent, for the to die, and went and prayed in time passed pleasantly. So she her anguish to God; then thanked her kind mother for how an angel brought her wa- the stories she had told her, and ter from heaven, and her son the pictures she had shown her; lived. She told her another and she smiled and said, "What story from the Bible, how there God pleases is best." The mofell no rain in Israel for more ther kissed her child, and said, than three years, and the grass Carry this sweet spirit with dried up, and the brooks wasted you, my daughter, as long as away; and how the cattle died; you live, and you will have and how the great prophet gathered more wisdom from the prayed earnestly to God, and storm than from the sunshine."

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CHARLOTTE BLACKHURST was | 23rd, 1834. She was truly born at Knutton Heath, June dedicated to God in her infancy,

good, she knew that more than

and her steps in childhood were directed to the house of prayer. this was necessary to constitute the Christian character; so she believingly sought and found redemption in the blood of Christ, the forgiveness of her sins.

Among many good qualities for which she was remarkable, her attention to the house of God and the Sunday school was ever manifest.

To Bethel Sunday School, One evening, when Mr. Lynn Knutton Heath, she was carried came to preach, he particularly when a child, and she never was noticed her at home, and enhabitually absent till her illness, tered into conversation with which terminated in death, her. Her father observed that rendered it impossible for her to it would be highly gratifying to attend. She has passed through him to see her give her heart to every class in the school as a God. Mr. Lynn replied, as scholar, and never failed to with the spirit of prophecy, secure the affectionate regards of "We shall have her to-night,' her teachers and school-fellows; and so it was. That evening and she has passed through fifteen were brought to God. most of the classes as a teacher, and we know of no child with with whom she had to do, but loved and respected her.

She continued diligent and attentive to the means during her short pilgrimage, and the last time she took any active part in the service of God, was at the juvenile missionary meeting, where it was evident to ali

She was steady and regular in attendance on every returning Sabbath. She expected her part in the school to be acted, she was in a poor state of and in every department of use-health. ful labour she took great delight.

exemplary patience. Not રી murmur ever escaped her lips, and she was truly thankful for anything, and every service done for her.

From the commencement of her affliction, she believed that On the worship of God she she should not recover; this she was steady in her attendance. made known to a friend, but Very early in life she assisted concealed it from her parents, the choir in celebrating the lest it should make them uneasy. praises of the Most High. Her affliction was borne with Steady to her post, her seat was seldom vacant. Bethel Chapel was her home-she loved it; not in word only, but in deed and of a truth; and there she heard the word of life, till it To a friend who asked her became the power of God to whether "Christ was precious?" her soul's salvation. During she replied, "he is." He asked our revival services she was one her again, "What is there in of those who were happily Christ that is precious ?" she brought to God. She had long replied, "His name is precious: been impressed and awakened, his word is precious: his grace and saw the necessity of a is precious: his presence change of heart; and, although precious: his blood is precious: her moral character was strictly to as many as believe he is

is

precious." At another time, when asked what most of all comforted her in her affliction, she replied, "Jesus is mine and I am his." That surely was enough.

"Precious Jesus, what a treasure To a poor believing mind;

Solid joy and lasting pleasure

Here and nowhere else I find."

She continued resting on this foundation till, on the 4th of May, 1853, her ransomed spirit took its flight from the body to be present with the Lord.

C. B.

POETRY.

PRAYER AND PRAISE.

"We praise thee, O God; we acknowledge thee to be the Lord."

THE first-born rose of vernal prime

That opes its bosom rare,

In gentle sighs of fragrant breath
Both make its morning prayer.

The summer-bird, on raptured wing,
That cleaves the vaulted sky,
Doth to the great Creator pour
Its gushing minstrelsy.

Rich Autumn, with her fruitful hoard,
Her harvests ripening fair,

The golden sheaf, and loaded wain,
Doth praise the Giver's care.

E'en Winter in its sabbath rest
Adores the King of might,
And every snow-flake speaks of Him
Who robes the earth in white.

Thou art his servant, O my soul;
By birth, by choice, by vow,
By bounties of each rolling year:
Prove thine allegiance now.—

Yea, prove it as each passing day
Unfolds its pinions fleet,

By deeds of love, by thoughts of prayer,
By strains of worship sweet.

Make this brief life a song of praise
Where'er thy lot may be;

And learn the language here below
Of Heaven's eternity.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

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