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The boy looked lovingly in his mother's face, and replied, "It was God's grace that taught it to my dear mother; and she taught me that Jesus Christ loved little children, and I learned to love him for his love to us."

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Let us see now what the love of Christ can do for you," ‚” cried the cruel judge; and, at a sign from him, the lictors, or officers, who stood ready with their rods, or sticks, after the fashion of the Romans, instantly seized the boy. Gladly would the mother have saved her timid dove, even at the expense of her own life: but she could not do so; yet did she whisper to him to trust in the love of Christ, and to speak the truth. And the poor child, feeble and timid as he was, did trust in that love; nor could all the cruelty of his tormentors separate him from it.

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What can the love of Christ do for him now ?” asked the judge, as the blood streamed from the tender flesh of the boy.

"It enables him to endure what his Master endured for him, and for us all," was the reply.

And again they smote the child, to torture the Christian mother.

"What can the love of Christ do for him now ?" they asked again. And tears fell even from heathen eyes as that Roman mother, a thousand times more tortured than her son, answered, "It teaches him to forgive his persecutors."

The boy watched his mother's eye as it rose up to heaven for him, and he thought of the sufferings of his dear Lord and Saviour, of which she had told

him; and when his tormentors inquired whether he would not now acknowledge the gods they served, and deny Christ, he still answered, "No! there is no other God but one: Jesus Christ is the Redeemer of the world. He loved me, and I love him for his love."

The poor child now fainted between the repeated strokes, and they cast the mangled body into the mother's arms, crying, See what the love of your

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Christ can do for him now."

As the mother pressed it gently to her own crushed heart, she answered, "That love will take him from the wrath of man to the peace of heaven."

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"Mother," cried the dying boy, "give me a drop of water from our cool well upon my tongue."

The little martyr spake no more—and then the mother said, "Already, dearest, hast thou tasted of the well that springeth up to everlasting life— the grace of Christ given to his little one-thou hast spoken the truth in love; arise now, for thy Saviour calleth for thee. Young, happy martyr, for his sake, may he grant thy mother grace to follow thy bright path."

The boy faintly raised his eyes, looked to where the elder martyr was, and said again, "There is but one God, and Jesus Christ whom he has sent;" and so saying, he died.

Many tender twigs bound together become strong.

FORBIDDEN FRUIT.

SOME children think how sweet must be
The juicy apples, red and fine,
That grow upon a neighbour's tree,

And wish, "Oh dear! if they were mine!" And then they look a little longer,

The wish each moment growing stronger, Until they start with dread, and shrink, Lest some one near might hear them think.

If now, poor little guilty eyes,

And little trembling, guilty heart,
You'd learn in season to be wise,

You'd never act a robber's part.
A thief in thought, then soon in deed,
Guilt springs from such a little seed;
And thoughts and wishes made in sin,
Will never make us right within.

What though a voice, by art made bolder,
So sweet it seems almost divine,
Should whisper softly o'er your shoulder,

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God made the fruit, 'tis yours and mine," Remember 'tis but Satan's plan

To make you pilfer if he can;

Then from the spot, without delay,

From sin and Satan haste away.

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THE BIBLE IN THE FOOTSTOOL.

THERE was a family in France, long, long ago, who had a footstool of which they took particular care, and which they used in a singular manner. When strangers were present, the footstool was set aside in some out of the way place, where it would not attract attention; but when the family were alone, it was sure to be brought into notice again. Sometimes the father would take it on his knee, and, turning it upside down, bend over it with the No. 210. JUNE, 1862,

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deepest interest. Sometimes it was the mother who held it on her lap, and gazed at it as tenderly as if it were her youngest babe.

What was there about that footstool that made it so precious?

Under the footstool a book was fastened, where it was out of sight, and yet its pages could be turned, and it could be read from beginning to end.

This book was the treasure and comfort of the family. It told them of a Friend who was near them at all times, and who was able and willing to save them in every danger, It told them of a beautiful land where sin and sorrow cannot come, and where there shall be no more sickness, and no more death. It taught them how to act at all times and in all circumstances. It gave them comfort in every trouble, and cheered them in the hours of the greatest misfortune. More than all this, it told them of a Saviour, for whose sake the sinner may be forgiven, and received into an eternal home of joy.

I hardly need to tell you the name of this book, for the Bible alone contains such good news, such words of comfort and gladness. But why was this precious book kept in such a strange hiding-place? Why was it read secretly and with trembling?

Alas! in that sad day the Bible was a forbidden book in France; and those who dared to read it were threatened with punishment, and even with death.

That French family loved their country and their home; but there was something which they loved

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