$ THE LAST LEAF. OME years ago, at one of the Irish Church Mission Schools, a boy, the child of very poor parents, was enrolled in a class for Scripture reading. He was quick, intelligent, and full of heart; but out of so wretched a home had he been brought, and so thick the gloom of ignorance with which his earlier years were pressed down, that it was a work of no small toil, at first, to teach him the beauty and charm of God's divine Word. How. ever, light by degrees fell on the opening thoughts of the little scholar. His parents were Roman Catholics, and to them the Bible was a sealed volume; but to him, as he slowly drank in the truth, and thirsted the more the more he drank, the Bible began to unfold very strange and heavenly lore. In quiet places, under the shade of overhanging trees, was he seen apart from his playfellows, stooping his sunburnt brow over the Scripture page, gleams of light passing to and fro over the half ragged form and the thin eager face, as he stooped and read. So, day by VOL. VI. No. XI Nov. 2, 1857. day, a gentle thoughtfulness grew over features that to a stranger's eye at first might seem rude and wild. Nobleness of love had been kindled in the poor boy's heart. Touching the fountains of all truth and love in Christ, there breathed into him, from his simple Bible, thoughts to which he could not give a name, but that filled him with a quiet and lowly happiness, wrought softness into his voice and step, raised the wonder of his parents often, as he clothed them in words they had never heard from child's lips before, and, when he was alone in deep retreats among the hills and glens, taught him how to pray. God's Word was his hourly friend-he talked to its pages-it shone on him with a face of love-it exchanged its holy thoughts with his-it was placed beneath his pillow when he slept it was treasured in a little pocket near his heart when he went out to his daily toil-it seemed to whisper its verses to him wherever he turned his stepwhen he opened its boards to read, it was to him like opening the door of a temple, into which, entering, he met Jesus in still communion-and in his heart the Bible was so dear, that all its glorious secrets seemed hidden there, in that little beating world, for ever. So the grace of God's Word became the life of his life. Time went on, and the little scholar grew up towards manhood. His parents had meanwhile died, and, alone, he was forced to go out to seek his fortunes in the world. By some accidental circumstance he was led to enlist as a soldier, and not long had he entered the ranks, when the Crimean war broke out, and he was ordered with his regiment to the scene of conflict. It was a war, as all will recollect, of terrible suffering and disaster. But at this time its first calamities were but beginning to be heard of; and as ship after ship put off from our shores for the East, they carried hundreds of young brave hearts, full already of the flush of battle, but many of whom were to see the friends and homes they had left never again on earth. Amongst others, the Irish Bible scholar was carried away over the distant waters. To many it would have seemed a perilous life he was now embarked in; but, full as a soldier's life is of temptation, and witness as it is often to much that is reckless and wicked, to him whom God's Word had so taught, it came with its perils, it is true, but few or none of its fears. Instead of his heart being wronged by wicked words and wicked deeds around him, it waxed deeper and holier in its light. It drew God's precious Book closer, and the thicker the gloom in which it lived, the purer and steadier grew its shrine. God's things were hidden in it, as I have said, like hidden gold. So even the worst and rudest of his companions was hushed often by the words he spoke, and by the verses he read-sometimes in the red blaze of the camp fire-sometimes in the tent, as a hasty meal was snatched, and the tired head was laid down for rest-sometimes from memory, in the dark trench, and through the long bitter night. To his lips many owed words and hopes of which they had never heard before; and marvellous was it how the strongest and most daring learned to reverence in the boy such a shield of noble might carried in his lowly Bible, as made their strength and courage seem very weakness and fear. The battle of the Alma was fought, and through its carnage and terror the young soldier safely passed. Some weeks later he was encamped with his regiment in the British lines before Sebastopol. It was a night of thick murk; and, after toils long and weary on the day preceding, he and a little band of his comrades lay down in their bivouac on the cold ground, to snatch a brief rest. It was indeed brief and awfully broken. Gray dawn was creeping through the folds of mist over wood and hill above them, when a deep and sullen tread rose on the ear like the moving of a sea-sudden cries passed along the ranksmen flew wildly to their arms-the roar of artillery burst forth-and in phantom masses out of the gloom it was seen that the whole Russian army was bearing down on this devoted band of our soldiers, hemmed in, surprised, and far from help. It is known with what a grand heroism, notwithstanding, the little band gathered itself compactly up, fought silently against overwhelming odds, and never flinched. Again and again the masses poured upon them, were broken and driven back. No man thought of flyingnone of yielding-but all thought they must win or die. At last, in one of the charges, as day had at length fully dawned, the young soldier, whose fortunes we have been following, and who had stood bravely in a foremost place all through, was struck by a ball in the breast, and fell. He fell without a murmur. The flying feet of pursuers and pursued passed over him where he lay; and in the utter rout of the Russians, the tide of battle was borne far beyond the spot. He was seen turning on his side on the ground, and from his knapsack feebly taking the Bible he had learned to read at the little school, under the old shady woods. He was not seen alive again; but when, the bloody victory of Inkermann won, he was found in the heaps of slain at last, even in that forlornness and death his tale was told. A crowd of fierce plunderers had passed over the field, stripping the slain, and in many instances cruelly murdering those who had fallen, wounded and helpless. So this young hero had died in a fearful strife: his clothes had been torn away, the humble store in his knapsack plundered, and even his Bible rent from the faithful hand; but as he lay on the trampled sward, his face turned up in the stillness of its rest to heaven, the light as of a far-away smile lingered over his brow, and on his extended hand, as if graven there, a torn leaf, the last remnant of his Bible, clung, sealed there with his own blood. Little reader, learn the grace of this blessed Wordlearn it early-let it be graven in the tender thoughtslove it, pray over it, and in your life live it. It can never die-from the hand the last leaf may perish-but from the heart, God's Word, if once truly there, can perish never. It is written there by the Spirit's pen, and sealed for ever with the blood of Christ. W. R. "THOU, GOD, SEEST ME." THE sins of our youth! How bitter their remembrance, even if God has, for Christ's sake, blotted them out. I had been stubborn in my Sabbath school class. After the kind, faithful teacher had used every other method in vain, he pointed me to the card, "Thou, God, seest me." I judged from his countenance, as he turned away, that his thought was, "This seed has been sown on a rock." He was mistaken. He had made an impression as enduring as an immortal spirit. Sabbath school teacher, you are producing many a permanent good impression, even when most tempted to say, "I am doing nothing."-American Messenger. TRUTH IN ITS STRENGTH. IF a truth be established, objections are nothing. The one is founded on our knowledge, and the other on our ignorance.-Bishop Butler. A WINGED MESSENGER. SOME of our readers may have heard of the loss of the steamship Central America. It lately perished on the American coast, in a violent hurricane. Through the storm, although it had sprung a leak, its crew managed to keep it afloat; but the leak gained so rapidly after the gale had subsided, that, settling down almost in smooth water, the huge ship was utterly lost. But ere it so vanished from the waves, a small coasting bark, called the Ellen, had sighted its distress, and, standing off and on, was able to receive all the women and children in safety from the sinking vessel. Here is the singular narrative told by the captain who thus was guided to give rescue in the awful scene: "Just before six o'clock on the afternoon of September 12, I was standing on the quarter-deck, with two others of the crew on the deck at the same time, besides the man at the helm. Suddenly a bird flew over and around me, just grazing my right shoulder. Afterwards it flew around the vessel, then it again commenced to fly around my head. It soon flew at my face, when I caught hold of it and made it a prisoner. The bird is unlike any bird I ever saw before, and I don't know its name. The colour of its feathers was a dark iron gray; its body was a foot and a half in length, with wings three and a half feet from tip to tip. It had a beak full eight inches long, and a sort of teeth like a small handsaw. In capturing it, it gave me a good bite on my right thumb. Two of the crew who assisted in tying its legs were also bitten. As it shewed to bite at everybody, I had its head afterwards cut off and the body thrown overboard. When the bird flew to the ship the bark was going a little north of north-east. I regarded the appearance of the bird as an omen, and an indication to me that I must change my course. I accordingly headed to the eastward direct. I should not have deviated from my course had not the bird visited the ship, and had it not been for this change of course I should not have fallen in with such passengers of the Central America." Some may deride this as a story of superstitious fancy; but of old God put ravens on the wing to feed His prophet in the desert place; through ages He has made lightwinged birds carriers of chance seeds, that, dropped in new soils, have given birth to forests that have built men's ships, and roofed men's houses, and given implements of a hundred uses in men's service;—and why may not this |