142 A PAGE FOR FATHERS. trouble. Oh, my cough is coming! what shall I do?" "Look up, my dear little Polly, to the kind Saviour; He will help you to bear it, and carry you through the dark valley to His shining home above." "Yes, ma'am; oh, yes; I know He will. You told me, long ago, He is more ready to wash away our sins than we are to have them washed, and I am not afraid to go now, only for poor mother, you know, she will cry so, and have nobody to comfort her—I mean nobody in this world; but I think He has washed her and me too." "Yes, dear, and I believe He has washed you, and that you are one of the lambs of His fold; but you must not talk just now, Polly dear, for your little face is getting flushed, and I fear the cough will come again." "But, teacher," continued the child, "please let me say something to you before mother comes up. I'm afraid, if I don't make haste, I shall never tell you. I want you to do something for me when Speak on, then, my dear child, I will do "Mother has got three shillings of mine, teacher, that she said, maybe, I might put into the savings' bank some day; but I shall not want it now--no, never— so will you please, ma'am, ask mother for it when I am gone to heaven, and buy a Bible with it for father, to have as his very own; and please write inside it that 'tis the gift of his little Polly, to help him to get to heaven, to live with me up there. Will you do it, ma'am?” I am dead." it if I can." 66 Just then, a fit of coughing came on, and for an hour after the little maiden lay with blanched cheek and closed eyes, scarcely breathing. Polly's mother was now at her post of observation, at the foot of the bed, while the kind teacher kept her finger on the fluttering pulse. The door opened gently, and a rough man with clouded brow entered, and took a seat by the bed, anxiously looking at the little marble-like face. A tear rolled over the sun-burnt cheek as he asked timidly, "Won't she be able to speak to me more?" Then, bending over the little form, he said A PAGE FOR FATHERS. 143 passionately, "Polly, oh, my dear little Polly, can't you speak once more to your father?" Waymark then covered his face with his hands, and the big drops fell through his fingers on the bed-other eyes were streaming too! Presently there seemed a movement about the little placid face and eyes, and, in a very gentle whisper, the dying child said, "Father! father!" The eyes opened, and an unearthly smile lighted up the little countenance-"Father!" again whispered the departing Polly (the strong man bent down to listen)-" will you, father-will you-come-to-heaven? Mother-will be there--but will-you come-father?” "Bless thee, my Polly!" exclaimed the rough man, "I will, if I can, and I wish I could go with you now, my darling. I shall never be happy again." "Father!" again whispered the failing voice, "go to-Jesus-He-can-make you happy-pray -to-Him." "Oh, Polly, you pray for me once morepray for your wicked, heart-broken father." The brilliant eye grew dim- -a convulsive motion of the pale lips became evident, and the whole of the little face assumed a loveliness seen only near the gate of the shadowy valley. All bent to listen to the last whisper, all distinctly heard the words, "Gentle Jesus-bless-my-father." The eyes were fixed, as if looking on a beautiful vision. The angels had gone back to the golden city with a new companion, to join in the new song with the ransomed children of men. The kind teacher attended to all the dying requests of her Sunday-school child; and now the strong man sits clothed and in his right mind, like a little child, reading the last gift of Polly, at the feet of Jesus. Mother! Teacher! be encouraged! TRUE LIGHT. Polished steel will not shine in the dark ; -no more can Reason, however refined, shine efficaciously, but as it reflects the light of Divine truth, shed from heaven. CARE FOR THE OUTCASTS.-No. VII. "Grievous, indeed, must be the burden that shall outweigh innocence and health." EACH subsequent quarter drew forth some new proof of Mary's gratitude to her mother, and to those who had faithfully reproved her, trying to lead her into the "narrow road." Clothes and money she often sent to her parentsnor did she forget the home of refuge, where the first ray of Divine light glanced into her dark mind. She possessed naturally a good understanding, a fine generous spirit, and a strictly truthful conscience; so much so, that her enemies have often been confounded by her impartial statementsyet all was hidden under the soul-darkening influence of infidelity, which, on her going into the Penitentiary, she did not scruple openly to avow. Now, how changed! How anxious to do good! consistent." On one occasion, Mary asked her mistress's permission to go out for two hours? This request was readily granted; and her willing feet were soon at the door of the Penitentiary, which was opened by the matron with a cheerful welcome to Mary. "I am come, ma'am," said she, "to ask a favour." "This will be readily granted, Mary, if May I be permitted to take my tea with the inmates? It is the anniversary of my being taken into the institution, which I call my birthday!—and it will greatly oblige me if the committee will accept so small a subscription as five shillings-I could wish it were five pounds-I should rejoice in having it in my power to give it." She was assured that it would be received as a pleasing testimony of her gratitude. Mary was allowed to do as she had requested; and during the meal-which she begged she might share in the same way she was wont to do-viz., two thick slices of bread and butter, and two cups of tea-she spoke many CARE FOR THE OUTCASTS. 145 ind words of encouragement to the reclaimed wanderers, ntreating them, with purpose of heart, to cleave unto the ord, that they might be enabled to continue steadfast in heir purpose of reformation-reminding them, that when hey went into the world again, that they would not find it ltered, but that they must show that they were altered, by a holy life and conversation. She then asked if they night be allowed to sing a hymn together, as they had often done, before the females left the table? This was readily granted; and the Cottage Hymn Book being handed round, Mary selected the hymn,→ "O'er the gloomy hills of darkness," which she commenced singing in such a sweet and softened melody, that told the deep feelings working within, and tearful gratitude beamed from her countenance. When the words were sung every "Blessed Jubilee, Let thy glorious morning dawn!" heart seemed melted before her, and every head bowed with weeping. When they attempted to commence the second verse, all utterance was choked. The matron, who had been a deeply interested spectator of this scene, now stepped forward, and said,—“As your feelings will not permit you to sing, we will spend a few moments in prayer before you take leave of one who has endeared herself to many of you by her repeated acts of disinterested kindness. After commending each other to the blessing of heaven, and giving a word of advice to each, Mary shook hands affectionately with all, and took her leave. Mothers! woman! are you not willing to care for the outcast, after such a scene as this just described? A little more to come. 1 PAGE FOR OUR YOUNG FRIENDS. "How she will be missed, mamma!" WHO would like to die, and not be missed? This question we asked, after recounting the useful life of an active, faithful, and beloved young Sabbath-school teacher, just gone to heaven. "Oh, how she will be missed!" said a loving young spirit. "Yes," rejoined another, "and in that pretty little Society for the Missionaries among the children, that she conducted-how they will miss her! Who can do it now?" "God, my child, can always find plenty of agents to carry on His work without any of us; but who would like to die, and not be missed?" Dear young friends, are you living such a life that if Death should soon stretch out his icy hand, to conduct you through his shadowy pathway, the circle all around would miss you and weep for you, and feel a blank where your footsteps had lately been heard on life's platform? Ah, you may be called, before you expect, to render up your account to the great Judge of all the earth. This year has already seen many a youthful, blooming face covered by the shroud, and many active feet stretched out in the cold You may be the next summoned ;-are you ready? Very many letters have reached us lately, telling us of change and death. The following is an extract from one of them :— * grave. * * * Our family have been constant readers of The Mothers' Friend from the first number. But one who has lately been taken from us liked its pages best of all. In the bloom of health, she was suddenly seized with a malady which cut her off in a few days. We removed lately to the vicinity of a large public garden, hoping to improve the health of our children by recreation in it. Alas! the last time Catherine Bwas out with her brothers and sisters, she caught a cold by heating herself with running, and then sitting on the grass, when the chill spring wind pierced her frame, and she lay down on |