a kind voice pear her; it was one of the hospital surgeons who spoke. "I fear your leg is much hurt; but we will do our best for you."

There was something in the pitying accent with which these few words were spoken which startled Hester. She clasped her hands together, and turning to the doctor with an earnest look of entreaty, exclaimed, “Oh, please to tell me the worst at once! Is it very bad ? Must I- must I lose it?"

There was no answer ; but one eager look at the grave, sad faces by her bedside taught her the bitter truth,—there was no hope for her. She hid her face in the pillow, and trembled with agony. Oh, the black despair of that moment when she learnt her fate! Her future life rose up before her mind ; she would always be a cripple-a pauper. Her hopes were all crushed—those bright hopes of a happier time, when she might work for herself, and win her way in the world. A long lifetime of lameness and misery! The thought half maddened her.

"Come, you must be a brave little girl. It won't hurt you much; besides, it's quite needful if we wish to save your life.”

At these words the poor child started, and said, passionately,

“I don't mind the pain, but what's the good of living any more? Oh, let me alone! go away! let me die, for I can't bear it!” Then her voice was drowned in a fit of violent sobbing.

“We can do nothing with her today," said the surgeon, in a low voice, "but let all be ready by ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

Hester caught the word “to-morrow," and knew too well what it meant; but when she was left alone her passion soon wore itself out, and she fell into the deep, heavy slumber of utter weariness.

The next day she was more passive, but it was only the quietness of despair. The operation was performed, but I will not dwell upon the painful scene. It

was not known in those days that the merciful use of chloroform could take away the feeling of pain as well as the fear of it, which is often worse.

When all was over, and the patient was gently carried back to her bed in the long ward of the hospital, one feeling, one object, filled one mind. She longed for death-not with any hope of a brighter life in heaven, but merely to get away from this world, where there seemed for her nothing but misery. Only by force was she prevented from tearing off her bandages, then she obstinately refused to take any food or medicine, and would listen neither to threats or entreaties.

You may ask, “ Was this poor child a heathen that she behaved so wickedly? had she never been taught to submit to the will of God?" I can only say that she was born in a Christian country, she had been trained in the workhouseschool, and there been taught to read about sacred things, and to say, “Thy will be done.” But, like too many of us, she had never felt in her heart the truth and meaning of the words she repeated, and in the day of trial she was found wanting.

The weary hours of that long summer day passed slowly away, and the evening came at length. Hester was still lying restlessly awake ; she was looking down the room at the long row of beds - many of them occupied by sick women and children-placed a little way apart from each other, and looking strangely still in the dim twilight. Presently she was roused by a quiet step approaching; she looked up; it was one of the hospital nurses in her grey dress and white cap. The nurse, whom she had never seen before, went to her bedside, and bending over to kiss her, gently said, “My poor child!" There was something so sweet in the tone and manner that Hester felt touched at once ; they were the first words of love she could remember in her lifetime. There was a short silence,

then the kind voice spoke again: “It's very hard to suffer as you do, dear, but you must be patient. Others have worse trials than yours, and still learn to bear them.” “What can be worse than mine?” asked the young girl, almost fiercely. “Wasn't it bad enough to be all by oneself in the world—not to have a creature to care for one But then I used to think, I'll earn my own living some day; I won't always wear the workhouse dress, and be a wretched pauper. Now, there's no chance for me. . . . Those wicked boys killed my poor kitten, and I wish they'd killed me too !” “Hush hush | You mustn't talk like this. Do you know who it was that gave you your life, and has given you, too, a work to do in it ! Nothing can happen without the will of God. Try to believe this, and perhaps some day you will thank Him for that which now seems so bitter to you.” “Do you mean I shall be thankful for being lame? Oh, never, never!” “I hope so, but you're not in a temper for talking of such things now. I told you that other people have had worse trials to bear than yours. If I can spare time to-morrow I will tell you the story of my life, and you shall judge for yourself. Only promise me before I go, that you will be very good, and take what is given to ou.” “I’ll do anything you tell me, if you'll only come often and see me, that I will.” So they parted; and

Hester feeling soothed and comforted, though she scarcely knew why, soon fell peacefully asleep. How wonderful is the magic of kindness!

(To be continued.)

THE SUGAR MAPLE.

EVERY boy or girl, almost without

exception, is fond of sugar. I never knew one that was not. Well, as it is so, it may interest my young readers to hear about the Mapletree, or Sugar Maple, as it is generally called.

mencing their work. Some chop up wood, others light the fires, others put in their places the vessels or dishes into which the sweet liquid is to be received ; indeed, all are as busy as bees.

You wonder in what shape the sugar grows on the tree, and how it is got at. This is soon told. The native makes a deep cut in the trunk of the tree, and out of this cut the sap flows into the vessel placed to receive it. At first this sap looks like water, very clear, without either colour or taste; after it has stood for a day or two it becomes sweet. When the sap has been flowing for a few days, it runs from the tree quite sweet, and at last becomes thick. Twice a-day the sap is collected and boiled down, then it is poured into moulds, or shapes, to harden. When it is carefully boiled in glazed pots, the clear sap makes at once a sugar beautifully white, and, if refined in the usual manner, it becomes almost like the best loaf-sugar made from the sugar-cane. The drainage of the Maple Sugar is much prized, and eaten upon bread like treacle.

Many tons of sugar are produced in this way, and are a source of profit to those employed.

How thankful we should feel for all the blessings that God bestows upon His children, thus making the earth to bring forth fruit for the support and refreshment of His creatures!

never comes? We ask Him every day to sit with us, and He never comes.”

“Dear child," answered John Falk, “only believe, and you may be sure He will come, for He does not despise our invitation."

“I shall set Him a seat !” said the little fellow, and just then there was a knock at the poor. A poor, frozen apprentice entered, begging a night's lodging. He was made welcome; the chair stood empty for him ; every child wished him to have his plate ; and one was lamenting that his bed was too small for the stranger, who was quite touched by such unwonted kindness. The little boy had been thinking hard all the time, and at last he said :

“Jesus could not come, and so He sent this poor man in His place; is that it ?"

“Ķes, dear child,” answered Falk, " that is just it. Every piece of bread, and every drink of water that we give to the poor, or the sick, or the prisoners, for Jesus' sake, we give to Him: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.''

The children sang to their guest a hymn about the love of God before they parted for the night, and neither he nor they were likely to forget this simple comment on the Bible-words.

From “ Praying and Working."

THE SEAT SET FOR JESUS. IN the Reformatory School of good 1 John Falk, at Weimar in Germany, the following little incident took place. One evening as the children sat down to supper, one of the boys had repeated the pious grace, “ Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and bless what Thou hast provided," when a little fellow looked up, and said,

“Do tell me why the Lord Jesus

It is calculated that the Metropolis alone swallows in the course of a year no fewer than 270,000 oxen, 30,000 calves, 1,500,000 sheep, and 30,000 pigs; to say nothing of the flocks of fowl and shoals of fish which find their way into the same channels of consumption. The total value of the flesh annually imported into London, alive and dead, cannot be much less than 14,000,0001. annually. For the whole country we slaughter yearly 2,000,000 head of horned cattle, and about five times as many head of sheep.

THE BABY-LION.

AS I was strolling about the Zoological Gardens the other day, I saw that a baby-lion had arrived, and it struck me immediately what a prize it would be for many of my little friends. I know I longed for one when I was a small boy; and there was a dark, cosy corner, behind an old square oak staircase in our house, which I thought would be just the place for it, and quite like its native den. But baby-lions are costly to keep, and grow dangerous also, so I never had one, and a sketch of one must, I fear, content you. The keeper at the Zoological Gardens handed baby-lion to me, and it put its paws round my neck and began licking my face, and I petted it and gave it many fond words. When he brought it out again to show it to some children I began to sketch it, and was astonished to find that it growled and hissed like a cat. My book, and keen look at it, frightened it, and so the keeper quickly put it back into its den. It rushed at once under its bedstead, and I could not finish my sketch, or you would have had a whole baby pictured. My own children went next day to see it, and they all nursed and kissed it. Lions get very tame, but as God gave them, for a wise purpose, great strength and dangerous weapons in the shape of claws and teeth, it would not be safe to leave them at liberty. A friend of mine went, many years ago, to Egypt and Syria. He was hospitably received by a sheikh, an Arab chief. They sat in his tent, smoking long pipes and having coffee, when suddenly two full-grown young lions burst into the tent, and glared at the pale stranger, not being used to white people. The sheikh then said to his guest,“The lions are rather hungry, they have had nothing to eat yet to-day.” Upon which my friend quietly replied, “Oh, then I should like to see them eat l”