270 THE CHILD OF MERCY.-ECONOMY. One morning, however, he perceived tears, and heard broken accents, and. gathered the words as they escaped from the lips of wife and daughter, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" His joy knew no bounds. They obtained a sense of God's favour; and with a speed to which he had for years been unaccustomed, he flew to his vessel, hauled the flags on deck in great haste, knotted them on to the flag-ropes, and ran them up to the mast-head. With one hand he pressed upon his fluttering heart; the tears of "joy and not of grief" chased each other down his weather-beaten cheeks: his other hand pointed upward; and, as with an eagle gaze his eye penetrated the very clouds, far beyond the mast-head, "There," said he, "there they wave, and silent shout,' Victory through the blood of the Lamb!'" But, dear reader, far above the ken of his vision, discernible only by the eye of faith, even in "the heaven of heavens," there was joy among the angels of God over these repenting sinners. Happy he who thus raises the joys of heaven. "Be wise to win souls." "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever!" Blyth. J. R., JUN. THE CHILD OF MERCY. (From the German of Krummacher.) WHEN the Highest wished to create man, He assembled His chief angels in council. "Create him not," said the angel of justice: "he will be unjust towards his brother, cruel and unfeeling to those weaker than himself.” "Create him not," said the angel of peace: "he will inundate the earth with blood; the firstborn of his race will murder his brother." "He will pollute Thy sanctuary with lies," said the angel of truth; "and still Thou placest on His brow Thine own likeness, the seal of fidelity." They had not yet done speaking, when Mercy, the youngest, dearest child of the Eternal Father, approached His throne, and embraced His knees. "Create him, Father," she said, "in Thine own likeness, the offspring of Thy goodness. When all Thy servants forsake him, I will seek him, and in love assist him: his very faults shall work out his eternal good. I will make the hard heart soft, and incline it to pity those in want. If he wander out of the paths of peace and truth, if he forsake justice and righteousness, the consequences of his error shall be such as to lead him back, and in love correct him." The Father of mankind created man,—a weak, erring being, but even when in fault watched over by His goodness,-the son of Mercy, of Love, which never forsakes him, ever pointing out to him the right way. Remember thine origin, man, when thou art cruel and unfeeling. Of all God's attributes, Mercy alone has willed thine existence. Through life mayest thou repose on the maternal bosom of Compassion and Love. GIOVANNA. ECONOMY. INDUSTRY, knowledge, and skill are indispensable to the production of an abundance of the necessaries and comforts of life; but the production of the necessaries and comforts of life is not the ultimate object of man in applying THE SECOND CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 271 his labour. He produces to enjoy; and to enjoy he must not only produce, but he must possess in such a way, as always to have the means of satisfying his wants, and gratifying his tastes. The wants of man may be said to require an incessant supply of the products of industry. He wants clothing always; shelter must ever be accessible, and his recurring appetite calls for a supply of food three or four times a day, throughout the year. In most parts of the globe there is but one harvest of corn each year, and corn forms by far the larger part of man's food. During some months of the year the earth may be said to hold its producing power in suspense. If, then, man's wants are continuous, and his capacity to produce intermittent, it is clear that he must do something more than labour, in order to possess at all times the means of satisfying his wants: he must save. By exercising his power of self-restraint, he must make one harvest supply the cravings of three or four appetites, recurring three hundred and sixty-five times during the year. Yet more care for the future is needed. Harvests are often deficient, sometimes very deficient, and several weeks later than usual. To secure an uninterrupted supply, accordingly, there must be saving, not only from one harvest to another, but saving sufficient to provide against danger from the lateness and deficiency of future harvests. The necessity of saving or of refraining from the immediate consumption of what has been produced, is equally manifest in regard to almost every vegetable and animal substance upon which man habitually exercises his industry, in order to supply his wants. The various roots which have been selected as articles of food, are greatly affected by the vicissitudes of the seasons. These same vicissitudes act upon animal life, and upon the vegetable food which sustains that life. The reasons here presented for self-restraint, or saving, are consequent upon the intermittent and uncertain yield of the substances to the production of which man directs his labour. But when to the infirmities of the seasons we add his own, the necessity of saving is seen to be still stronger. The prostration and decay of power during illness and old age, while they incapacitate for labour, do not make a supply of the products of industry less needful; and this supply, to meet the wants of illness and old age, is not obtainable, except from the savings of what health and youth have produced. If it could be thought a satisfactory mode of providing for the wants of the sick and aged, to charge the healthy and young with the supply of their wants, the call for self-restraint or saving would not be the less needful. We should merely have to decide whether it would be more conducive to the general welfare that each individual should feel himself bound to provide by saving for his own wants during sickness and old age, or that, while he transferred to others the duty of supplying these wants, he should take upon himself the supply of theirs.-Dawes. THE SECOND CAPTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. WHENEVER a great catastrophe has been imminent, presages have abounded amongst the multitude. They are certainly not prophecies, but are often very singular. I have just fallen in with one in the History of the Turks, by Leunclavius,* in a passage which I translate thus :— . "After relating the history of the capture of the city," (by Mohammed II., in 1453,) "the Turks have briefly noted that it is found written in the books of * Historia Musulmana Turcorum, de Monumentis ipsorum exscripta, &c. Francofurti, 1591. Page 582. 272 OUR CHILDREN'S CORNER.NATURAL HISTORY. the wise, and especially in the book called Messabih, that before Degnal Lain, or the wicked and accursed Antichrist, shall go forth, Constantinople will be twice occupied. First, it will be taken by the sword. Then, when the time for judgment shall come, the sons of Isaac will take it, not by the sword, but by calling upon the name of God. The first part of the prophecy, concerning occupation by force of arms, they confess to have been fulfilled when Sultan Mohammed gained possession of it by the attack which we have just described by the Turkish records. But what is to be that other occupation, and who are those sons of Isaac who will take possession of it by means of prayers and hymns, time alone must show." A STUDENT. OUR CHILDREN'S CORNER. THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS. "SHALL we not gather one of those beautiful bunches of flowers, dear father?" said a little girl. And she pointed to the clustering snowbloom of a young cherry-tree, which was then in fullest flower, giving glorious promise of its contribution to the fruits of summer. "No, my dear," said her father, "we will not gather those blossoms;" and then went on, looking for other flowers. But the little girl often turned her head, and half wished she might have had only one of those richly-covered sprays. A little while after this, the father and the little girl walked in the garden again; and all the beauty and gladness of the cherryblossoms were departed: the faded petals gave a dingy hue to the tree, which the fresh green of its new leaves could hardly hide. And now the little girl asked, "Shall we not pull off those withered flowers, dear father? They quite spoil my pretty little tree." Once more her father answered, "No, my dear, we will not pull off the withered blossoms." And as they walked on, the little girl again looked back, as if she wished her father had suffered her to do as she would with the cherry-flowers. The weeks passed on, with shower and sunshine, and a fresh tint gradually stole over the little tree, until the green leaves looked greener still, and the beauty of it seemed not so great, when its boughs were hung with the flower-snow, as it did now, that, instead of blossoms, there were seen the clusters of ripe coral-red fruit. "You may pluck them, my dear," said the father to the child, as she paused near the tree, her cheeks all glowing, and her eyes almost in tears with delight. "Ah, dear father! how glad I am you did not let me gather the blossoms when they were so beautiful, nor pull them off when they were faded and dead! The fruit is best." A WORD TO LITTLE BOYS. WHO is respected? It is the boy who conducts himself well, who is honest, diligent, and obedient in all things. It is the boy who is making an effort continually to respect his father, and to obey him in whatever he may direct to be done. It is the boy who is kind to other little boys, who respects age, and who never gets into difficulties and quarrels with his companions. It is the boy who leaves no effort untried to improve himself in knowledge and wisdom every day; who is busy and active in endeavouring to do good acts towards others. Show me a boy who obeys his parents, who is diligent, who has respect for age, who has always a friendly disposition, and tries to do good to others; and if he is not respected and beloved by everybody, then there is no such thing as truth in the world. Remember this, little boys, and you will be respected by others, and will grow up and become useful men. NATURAL HISTORY. THE MALLEE BIRD. curious bird was published in the first number of his magnificent book on the "Birds of Australia." To the brief information then given, in respect to its habits, from the notes of the late Mr. Gilbert, a much more complete account has been subsequently added by Captain Sir George Grey, who had frequent opportunities of observing them, while Governor of South Australia. From this account, published in the "Introduction to the Birds of Australia," we derive the following singular facts. The leipoa makes no nest, properly so called, neither does it incubate its eggs: they are hatched by artificial heat, produced either by fermentation, or the action of the sun's rays, in large mounds of sand, earth, and dead leaves. The mounds they construct, says Captain Grey, are from twelve to thirteen yards in circumference at the base, and from two to three feet in height; the general form being that of a dome. The sand and grass are sometimes scraped up for a distance of from fifteen to sixteen feet from the outer edge. When an egg is to be deposited, the top is laid open, and a hole scraped in its centre, to within two or three inches of the bottom of the layer of dead leaves. The egg is placed in the sand, just at the edge of the hole, in a vertical position, with the smaller VOL. IX. T end downwards. The sand is then thrown in again, and the mound left in its original form. When a second egg is laid, it is deposited in precisely the same plane as the first, but at the opposite side of the hole before alluded to. When a third egg is laid, it is placed in the same plane as the others; but, as it were, at the third corner of a square. When the fourth egg is laid, it is still placed in the same plane, but in the fourth corner of the square. The next four eggs in succession are placed in the interstices, but always in the same plane; so that there is a circle of eight eggs, all standing upright in the sand, with several inches of sand intervening between each. Sometimes several of these mounds are constructed close to one another. I have found two within two or three hundred yards, and have seen five within the distance of four or five miles. They were built in a sandy, scrubby country, the site of the mound being in some little open glade, in the very thickest part of the shrub. The temperature of the nests I have examined has always been warm; not so 274 THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL. much so, however, as I should have thought necessary for the purpose of hatching eggs. The young bird scratches its way out alone: the mother does not assist it. The mother, feeding in the shrub in the vicinity, hears its call, and runs to it. She then takes care of the young one, as a European hen does of its chick. When they are allhatched, the mother is accompanied by eight or ten young ones, which remain with her until they are more than half grown. The male bird does not accompany them. The natives frequently find the nests and eggs, but seldom see the old birds, which are very timid and quick-sighted. They run very fast, like the emu, roost on trees, and live for a long time without water.Illustrated London News. THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL. MARTHA AND MARY; OR, FOUR A MEETING is held: some ten or twelve adults, with a few juniors, compose the assembly. Whether male or female, all seem alike earnest. Every heart is lifted up to God in prayer: some engage audibly, others in silence. They sing and pray again and again; and it is evident that one theme is the burden of every prayer, and the subject of every song. And what is this? That which lies so near their hearts, -the Sunday-school. It is plain they are a lowly band of Teachers, who sensibly feel that all their self-denying and laborious efforts to impart Divine truth to their youthful charge will be worse than useless, unless accompanied by the gracious influences of the blessed Spirit. For this they intercede. And shall they pray in vain ? God's own word is, "Ask, and it shall be given you." But these long-tried labourers begin at times to despond: their faith wavers, and they ask, between hope and fear, "Will our prayers ever be answered ?" The meeting closes; and the Teachers, somewhat encouraged to toil on, retire to their homes, doubtless many of them to resume the theme in private. The juniors, also, who are a few scholars that have strayed into the place from some unknown motive, leave; and the door is shut. "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." * Tread softly, and peep through the crevices of the old shattered door: within is a scene on which holy angels may gaze with delight. It is an upper chamber of an old uninhabited cottage, which is awaiting the hand of demolition. But hark! what do you hear? Gentle voices. And what do you see? Two girls kneeling in prayer; one about twelve or thirteen years of age, and the other a little older. First one prays, and then the other; and the tears trickle down their cheeks, as they raise their fervent hearts to heaven, and offer their broken and simple petitions. But who are the girls? One, the elder, is a poor, halfclad, and (by some) almost despised cripple. The other, fortune has more highly favoured; but she is blessed with a lowly spirit, and chooses this very girl for her companion. Something makes them one in heart; the same feeling works within each breast, and they love each other, they scarcely know why, perhaps because they experience the same wants, feel the same good desires, and have agreed to ask God for the same blessings. But, again, who are they? They are Sunday-scholars. Though not blessed with pious parents, they have seen and felt their Teachers' earnestness; they have listened to their frequent exhortations; they have heard their prayers, and seen their tears; and often have they stolen into the prayer-meeting which has been set apart for intercession on their behalf. Their names are Martha and Mary. Their conduct is truly sister-like. "I love them that love Me; and they that seek Me early shall find Me.” * * * The scene is changed. We no longer peep through the old broken door at the praying Sunday-scholars, but we have to visit the chamber of the dying. The apartment is beautifully clean the bed is hung with white dimity, and on it lies one of those interesting girls,—it is Mary, the younger. A year or two ago, when we gazed upon her last, disease had taken no hold upon her. She was noted for her remarkably blooming appearance. Many a time had her bright eye and happy countenance been observed when seated in her Sabbath-class. But death respects not youth or beauty; for he laid his hand on Mary, and seized her for his prey. Her health had long been declining; and now she is unable to attend school any more, and is confined to her bed. Where is her old friend? Martha, faithful in the hour of adversity, is found almost daily watching beside her couch. The cold wintry weather, and the deep snows, never affright her she feels, when gazing on her sick companion, and thinking that they must soon part, that her attachment is deeper than ever. What is the state of Mary's mind? She is happy: her very countenance declares it. Her eye sparkles |