How will he Know?

In a hospital there was a little child dying, and the only hope of saving her was by performing a very serious operation. One evening the doctor and nurse were by her bed, and thinking the little one was asleep, the doctor said, 'I fear it will go hard with her in the morning; I doubt whether the little one will be able to bear it.' After they were gone the little child said to the one in the next bed, 'Are you awake?' The other replied, 'Yes.' Upon which she asked, 'Did you hear what the doctor said?' Again the other said, 'Yes.' The little one then sighed and said, 'O dear, what shall I do?' She then replied, 'I know what I should do.' 'What?' asked the child. 'I should ask Jesus to come and help me.' 'So I will,' said the child, and added, 'but there are so many of us; how will he know which one it is that wants him?' After a pause, the other child replied, 'O, I know; put your arms outside the bedclothes, and then say, 'Please, Jesus, it's the little child with her arms out of bed that wants you to come.'' Later in the evening the nurse was passing the bed, and, looking at the little child, perceived her hands together as in prayer, and going closer, found that she was dead. The little one in the next bed related what had passed between them, and hence the simple and beautiful lines that follow. Christ did come and help her.

'They tell me Thou art Lord of all

The living and the dead;
Then care for me, the little child
Whose arms are out of bed.

'How can I bear this dreadful pain That sickens heart and head?

O pity me, the little child

Whose arms are out of bed.

'They say the pain that we deserve Thou once didst bear instead ; Bear this for me, the little one Whose arms are out of bed.

'Or send a tender angel down To hold my aching head; Tell him it is the little child Whose arms are out of bed.

'O gentle Jesus, didst Thou hear The prayer I just now said?

My voice is low, come to the child Whose arms are out bed.'

The dark night passed, the morning dawned
All bright and rosy red;

But Christ had come to take the child
Whose arms were out of bed.

Dignity and Empudence.

A FABLE.

Said a wee little bird, with a pert little look, To an adjutant stork by the river,

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'I suppose that you think you're as wise as you look,
And in fact that your wondrously clever ;
You're a picture of dignity, that I'll admit,
But, alas! that is all I'll allow,
For indeed you're not quarter as wise as a tit
That hops to and fro on a bough.'

Said the adjutant stork to the wee little bird,
With a dignified kind of a stare,

'Little creatures like you should be seen and not heard,

And your impudence well we can spare, You had better by far go back to your nest,

And be pert where they'll heed what you do ; For you see that in height I'm six feet and the rest While you are just no feet and two!'

So it is with us all as we pass through the day :
For we each of us think we're most clever-
Whether impudent bird, that just chatters away,
Or 'dignity' stork by the river.

On our size and our form and our talents we pose,
And we hold ourselves up every hour:

If the Queen of the Garden be known as the rose, Then we are that wonderful flower.

G. Weatherley.

A FIRM faith is the best divinity; a good life is the best philosophy; a clear conscience is the best law; honesty is the best policy; and temperance the best physic.

A SINGLE sin, however apparently trifling, however hidden in some obscure corner of our consciousness-a sin we do not intend to renounce-is enough to render real prayer impracticable.

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The Georgians.

IF you look at the map you will find that Georgia is a region in Western Caucasia, forming part of the Russian empire. The Georgians are a warlike and a brave people. For ages they maintained their freedom against numerous and powerful enemies, until subdued by the Russians. They are a remarkably fine-looking people, and are noted for their black glossy hair, large eyes, white teeth, delicate complexion, small hands, and lithe figures. For physical beauty their women are perhaps the best looking in Europe, or the world, and to add to their natural charms they indulge pretty freely in paint. Still, they are far from being really attractive or interesting. They are of a cold nature, and are wanting in animation of expression. The Georgians belong to the Greek Church, and are much addicted to the worship of the Virgin. They are remarkable for their honesty; such a thing as theft is scarcely known amongst them; but as a set-off to this, they are much given to the use of wine, which their country produces in great abundance. Nothing strikes travellers in Georgia so much as the passion for song, which seems to be universal among the people. They seem as if they could do nothing without singing. It is especially interesting to note the work-people in the fields singing as they work, and forming themselves into groups for the purpose f singing in harmony.

The Merchant's Clerk.

CHAPTER X.

THE next morning when Mr. Hobson and James met in Leadenhall-street, the former took not the least notice of the latter (although his desk was next to his own), which our hero was not sorry for. He knew now that the companionship of an acquaintance such as he was would be of no good to him; might, indeed, work harm. So he determined to have as little to do with him as possible, and if he would only keep on acting as he did now, he thought it would not be difficult to carry out his resolution. But James was rather afraid that his silence would not last long, for he instinctively felt that if he happened to be 'in a fog,' as he very often was, he would break through his present reserve, and come to him for help. As has been mentioned, James was wonderfully quick at figures.

Nothing in that line seemed any puzzle to him, even Mr. Jones marvelled at his quickness therein, considering what little instruction he had had.

The day passed on, and still Mr. Hobson had not addressed a word to our hero, greatly to the latter's surprise, though not to his disappointment, for he was engaged on something particular that Mr. Jones had given him, with orders that it was to be finished with as little delay as possible as it had to be sent off by coach that night. He had just put the finishing touches to it, and was congratulating himself on having done it to Mr. Jones' mind, when a message came that Mr. Harvey desired to see him. Just giving it a last glance, as he left it open on his desk to dry, he went to obey his master's summons. He found him alone when he entered his private room, leaning against the chimneypiece, with a note or letter in his hand.

'When did you see Mr. Williams last?' he asked, abruptly.

'Two days ago, sir, and I am going again tonight.'

'No! no! not to-night,' Mr. Harvey said, 'better not go to-night, he is very ill, very ill indeed, James, as this letter, which is from a friend of his, informs How was he when you saw him?'

me.

'Bad, sir, and he could not add more, his voice was choked.

'I have not seen him lately,' went on the old merchant; he has been away from London these last few months, and has only just returned; indeed, I did not know he had returned, till this letter informed me of it just now.'

'He only came back three days ago, sir,' James rejoined. 'He caught cold when he was away, and it has suddenly become worse, he thinks-he feels-that-that- James could not finish the sentence, the word 'dying' stuck in his throat, he felt it would be too terrible to die in the state he then was.

'My poor boy!' said the merchant kindly, laying his hand on the lad's shoulder, 'I see you are greatly attached to him-strange, strange!' he muttered to himself.

'I care for him very much, sir,' was the reply, the speaker raising his sorrowful eyes to the other's countenance, 'he only wants one thing to make him perfect to my mind, and that is—'

'Yes! yes!' said the merchant, 'I know, I know!'

'Then I am not to go and see him to-night, sir,

as was arranged?' James said, with a ring of disappointment in his voice.

'No, my boy, I think not, he is very ill, this letter says, and I thought-I was thinking— of going to the Strand myself to-night, and perhaps one person at a time would be as many as he ought

to see.'

'Very well, sir, but will you tell him-will you tell him, sir,' the tears springing to his eyes in his earnestness, 'that I hope he will allow me to go to-morrow. I will be very quiet; I will only speak when he wishes me. I will do anything if he will only let me see him!'

'I will tell him, James. I will be sure to give him your message.'

'Thank you, sir, and—and—'

'Well, what is it?' asked the merchant, seeing the lad hesitate.

'Will you say to him, sir, that comfort is on the way, and that at eventide it will be light? Just these words, sir, he will understand.'

'I will remember them, my boy,' was the answer, and James heard him muttering to himself as he left the room,' Yes, yes, He is merciful! Perhaps at eventide there shall be light for him!'

When James returned to the outer office Mr. Jones called to him and asked if he had finished what he was engaged upon, and, on his answering in the affirmative, desired that it might be brought to him at once, as it would soon be time that it was sent off. He hurried to fetch it, but when he reached his desk it was nowhere to be seen, and yet he was sure that he had left it there. He could take his oath of that, yet what had become of it? As he stood wondering where it could possibly have vanished, Mr. Jones called to him, impatiently, and asked why he was so long in obeying his commands.

'I can't find it, sir!' he replied, going up to him with astonishment strongly depicted on his countenance, 'I am quite sure that I left it open on my desk, but now there is no sign of it!'

'If you had left it there, it would have been there now,' Mr. Jones returned angrily, 'you put it away somewhere and now forget where it is !'

'Indeed sir!' he said firmly, 'I left it open on the desk for the ink was not quite dry, or I should have brought it to you before I went to Mr. Harvey.'

'Nonsense!' said Mr. Jones, incredulity in his tone, 'it is too lame a tale for me to believe, go at once and look for it, or,—'

'What's that you've got in your hand, Tomkins?

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he broke off to say to one of the porters who was entering.

'I don't know, sir,' was the reply, as the man put some papers into his hand, 'I found them just now in the passage, my foot kicked against them, so I picked them up and brought them to you, sir.'

On glancing at them the manager saw that they were the very papers they had been talking about, but crushed and soiled in such a manner as to be perfectly useless, except for copy.

'Do you know these, sir?' he asked of our hero sternly.

James could hardly believe his eyes, there was all his day's labour thrown away, to say nothing of the inconvenience it would be to the firm if they were not sent off that day. But how had they got in this state? That it was which puzzled him, but try as he might no solution of the enigma occurred to him.

'Now, sir!' said Mr. Jones in a severe tone, 'you will stay here to-night until you have done another like this. As this is the first time that I have detected you in an untruth I will let you off thus easily; but let me tell you that lying is a thing I utterly abhor!'

'I have told you no lie, sir!' our hero answered, drawing up his lithe form, his face and neck crimson, 'I'd scorn to do it!'

'Go!' said Mr. Jones with a wave of his hand, 'I will hear no more!'

James' blood was almost at fever heat when he sat down at his desk again, and prepared to do his work over once more. To be told that he was a liar, and before all the clerks too, seemed more than he could bear.

'Of course, now,' he said to himself, they will always look down on me, and believe that I am such as Mr. Jones has said.'

His mind, full of these thoughts, he happened to glance at Mr. Hobson, and saw a very peculiar smile hovering round the corners of that gentleman's mouth as he sat, apparently engrossed in mending a pen. In an instant it flashed across James' mind that it was he who had caused all the mischief, and he felt strongly inclined to tax him with it at once. Then he thought better of his resolve, for he had discernment enough to know that Mr. Hobson would deny it, and of course (he thought) Mr. Jones would naturally believe him, and most likely want to know why he suspected him, and if so, what could he say? He had not seen him touch his papers, neither had he seen him notice what he was even doing; to all outward signs he had been utterly oblivious