10 DEAR LITTLE JANET. ever appeared to spend in her life was spent when the Sabbath-school children met to enjoy their first soiree. Dear little Janet was there, and took a most animated part especially in their songs; and when she came home, her eyes sparkling with delight, she could not cease extolling the delights of the meeting. Just two days after, she was taken ill early in the morning, and awoke in some degree a sufferer. She tried to mitigate the idea of her illness as she saw it affected her affectionate mother; and when she got worse and worse, she would smile, and even endeavour to make sport, in order to induce her dear mamma to put away her anxiety. She was scarcely two days ill when her kindly efforts to, calm the fears of others, and to assure them of the perfect confidence which she had in Jesus, were interrupted by an unnatural sleep, from which she was never fully awakened. A short time previous to this she requested her mother to pray with her, and expressed her great satisfaction when she had done so. On Friday morning she first felt that she was taken ill, and on Monday evening she gently breathed her last, and rose to meet her tender and glorious Jesus in that happy land where all suffering and sorrow are for ever ceased. Dear young reader-Will you allow some little drops of heavenly dew to rest upon your mind through this little memorial? Jesus is as kind to you as he was to this sweet little girl. Just as he died and suffered fearfully in death for her sins, so did he suffer for yours. Oh how he loves to see that, like her, you know this, so as to be led to love him and to serve him in return! Will you then think over this little narrative, and above all let it lead your young thoughts up to him who loves you, and longs to see you happy in his love? GOD KNOWN BY HIS WORKS. A poor Arabian of the desert, ignorant as most of the Arabians are, was one day asked how he came to be assured that there was a God. "In the same way," he replied," that I am enabled to tell by a print impressed on the sand whether it was a man or beast that passed that way." THE DYING MOZART. HISTORY informs us that Wolfgang Mozart, the great German composer, died at Vienna in 1691. There is something strikingly beautiful and touching in the circumstances of his death. His sweetest song was the last he sung, the "REQUIEM." He had been employed on this exquisite piece for several weeks, his soul filled with inspiration of richest melody, and already claiming kindred with immortality. After giving it its last touch, and breathing into it that undying spirit of song which was to consecrate it through all times as his syrenian strain, he fell into a gentle and quiet slumber. At length the light footsteps of his daughter Emelie awoke him. "Come hither, Emelie," said he, "my task is done; the Requiem-my Requiem-is finished." "Say not so, dear father," said the gentle girl, interrupting him as tears stood in her eyes. "You must be better-you look better, for even now your cheek has a glow upon it. I am sure we will nurse you well again. Let me bring you something refreshing." "Do not deceive yourself, my love," said the dying father; "this wasted form can never be restored by human aid. From Heaven's mercy alone do I look for aid in this my dying hour. You spoke of refreshment, Emelie; take these my last notes; sit down to my piano here-sing with them the hymn of your sainted mother; let me once more hear those tones which have been my solace and delight." my Emelie obeyed, and with tenderest emotion sang the following stanzas:— Spirit, thy labour is o'er, Thy term of probation is run, Thy steps are now bound for the untrodden shore, Spirit! look not on the strife Or the pleasures of earth with regret; Pause on the threshold of limitless life, Spirit! no fetters can bin1, No wicked have power to molest; There the weary like thee, the wretched, shall find A haven, a mansion of rest. 12 THE WIDOW'S PROTECTOR. Spirit! how bright is the road For which thou art now on the wing! As she concluded, says an account before us, she dwelt for a moment on the low notes of the piece, and then turning from the instrument, looked in vain for the approving smile of her father. It was the still, passionless smile which the rapt and joyful spirit had left, with the seal of death upon those features.-Christian Citizen. THE WIDOW'S PROTECTOR. SOME of our dear young readers will, no doubt, be the children of those who are widows. These, and all others for the sake of these, will be glad to read the following little narrative. A widow was once visited by a friend, when she was living in a rather lonely house, and this friend remarked that she was rather unprotected. "Oh, no!" she said, "not unprotected, far from it! You forget," she continued with a mournful smile, "that I am now under the special protection of Him who careth for the fatherless and the widow,' and I feel quite confident that he will protect us." And he did protect them, and that very night, too, in a most extraordinary and wonderful, and, I may add, miraculous manner. The farm-house was a solitary one; there was not another within half a mile of it. That night there was a good deal of money in the house, the proceeds of a sale that had taken place that day at the house. The mother and her three young children, and a a maid-servant, were the sole inmates. They had retired to rest some time. The wind was howling fearfully, and shook the wooden house at every blast. This kept the poor mother awake, and she thought she heard, in the pauses of the tempest, some strange and unusual noise, seemingly at the back of the house. While eagerly listening to catch the sound again, she was startled by the violent barking of a dog, apparently in a room in the front of the house immediately beneath THE WIDOW'S PROTECTOR. 13 the bed-chamber. This alarmed her still more, as they had no dog of their own. She immediately arose, and going to her maid's room, awoke her, and they went down together. They first peeped into the room where they had heard the dog. It was moonlight, at least partially so, for the night was cloudy; still it was light enough to distinguish objects, although but faintly. They saw an immense black dog scratching and gnawing furiously at the door leading into the kitchen, whence she thought that the noise she first heard had proceeded. She requested the servant to open the door which the dog was attacking so violently. The girl was a determined and reso lute creature, devoid of fear, and she did so without | hesitation ; when the dog rushed out, and the widow saw through the open door two men at the kitchen window, which was open. The men instantly retreated, and the dog leaped through the window after them. A violent scuffle ensued, and it was evident from the occasional yelping of the noble animal, that he sometimes had the worst of it. The noise of the contest, however, gradually receded, till Mrs M- could hear only now and then a faint and distant bark. The robbers, or perhaps murderers, had taken out a pane of glass, which had enabled them to undo the fastening of the window, when, but for the dog, they would doubtless have accomplished their purpose. The mistress and maid got a light, and secured the window as well as they could. They then dressed themselves, for to think of sleeping any more that night was out of the question. They had not, however, got down stairs the second time, before they heard their protector scratching at the outer door for admittance. They immediately opened it, when he came in wagging his bushy tail, and fawning upon each of them in turn, to be patted and praised for his prowess. He then stretched his huge bulk at full length beside the warm stove, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. The next morning they gave him a breakfast any dog might have envied; after which nothing could induce him to prolong his visit. He stood whining impatiently at the door till it was opened, when he 12 THE WIDOW'S PROTECTOR. Spirit! how bright is the road For which thou art now on the wing! As she concluded, says an account before us, she dwelt for a moment on the low notes of the piece, and then turning from the instrument, looked in vain for the approving smile of her father. It was the still, passionless smile which the rapt and joyful spirit had left, with the seal of death upon those features.-Christian Citizen. THE WIDOW'S PROTECTOR. SOME of our dear young readers will, no doubt, be the children of those who are widows. These, and all others for the sake of these, will be glad to read the following little narrative. A widow was once visited by a friend, when she was living in a rather lonely house, and this friend remarked that she was rather unprotected. "Oh, no!" she said, "not unprotected, far from it! You forget," she continued with a mournful smile, "that I am now under the special protection of Him who careth for the fatherless and the widow,' and I feel quite confident that he will protect us." 6 66 And he did protect them, and that very night, too, in a most extraordinary and wonderful, and, I may add, miraculous manner. The farm-house was a solitary one; there was not another within half a mile of it. That night there was a good deal of money in the house, the proceeds of a sale that had taken place that day at the house. The mother and her three young children, and a a maid-servant, were the sole inmates. They had retired to rest some time. The wind was howling fearfully, and shook the wooden house at every blast. This kept the poor mother awake, and she thought she heard, in the pauses of the tempest, some strange and unusual noise, seemingly at the back of the house. While eagerly listening to catch the sound again, she was startled by the violent barking of a dog, apparently in a room in the front of the house immediately beneath |