MITTIE, THE BLIND CHILD.

45

Was there any distinguishing feature by which you would recognize your daughter, my dear madam?” asked the gentleman.

The mother's eyes wandered over the group, as though she dreaded, in the confirmation of her fears, to lose her last hope.

"Show me that child of whom you spoke," she faltered.

"Meta Hamilton"-but he stopped, for, at the lady's first word, Mittie had sprung from her position, and throwing back the curls from her face, turned wildly from side to side.

"Who is that ?" she cried, with outstretched arms. "That voice, speak again!"

"Mittie, my child!" cried Mrs. Hamilton, springing to her side, and sinking overpowered upon her knees. "Mother, oh mother !"-and Mittie fell in the arms that had cradled her in infancy.

That was a moment never to be forgotten!

Uncle Wythe Harris (for the mistake which had clouded so many years of the lifetime of mother and child, was that of Mittie in substituting-child that she was—the first name of her uncle for the last) found a pleasant cottage on the banks of the Hudson for his sister, and her now happy family. What a loving welcome the dear girls and boys, whom Heaven had blessed with the power of seeing their sister, gave to the wandered Mittie! How she comforted her mother's heart, making her forget her great bereavement, making her even forget to sorrow that she had a blind child, in her joy at feeling that she had another living darling!

The sunshine of Mittie's girlhood came back to her spirit. The dear blind girl was the joy of the house.

How could anybody cherish a feeling of discontent or peevishness, when that glad voice was pouring out its songs of thankfulness from morning until night! Oh, dear blind Mittie, never more-happy spirit that she was-mourned that God had not given her eyes to see. "He has given me back my mother," she once said, "and these precious brothers and sister, and He will let me see them all in heaven!”

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS.-On sitting down to write my letter, I find I have more to tell you than there would be room to print in this number of the HERALD. AS I can't tell you all I would wish, I must just briefly mention what will most interest yon. The night before last, a meeting, of a very delightful and interesting character, was held in the Library of the Mission House, in London. The members of the Young Men's Association, accompanied by a large number of female friends, met on that occasion to bid farewell to three Missionary brethren, (two of them with their wives,) who are going to India in a very few days, to preach the gospel to the hea then. Many of us never saw these dear brethren before, but we shall never forget their faces, and though we just met to part again, we shall feel all the more interest in them for having seen them; and although we may never meet again on earth, in heaven we shall "meet to part no more." How delightful to think that the love of Jesus binds us to each other on earth, and will make us all one family in our Father's house in heaven! Well, we commended these dear friends to the protection and blessing of God, and prayed that he would watch over them when sailing across the bosom of the mighty deep-that he would land them safely on the shores of India, and then grant them great success in preaching the gospel to the idolaters. They were very pleased to have our sympathy and our prayers, and we should all have liked to shake hands with them, but as there were so many present, Mr. Aldis (who presided) very kindly and warmly did that

for us.

You have not seen these dear missionaries and their wives,

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

47

but you never saw Jesus, and yet I hope you love him, and you can love and pray for all his devoted servants. Their names are William Sampson, John Mackay, and Thomas Evans. They represent England, Scotland, and Wales, but they all belong to the kingdom of Christ; they are united under the banner of the cross, and they go to battle against the strongholds of Satan. Pray for them, that they may be good soldiers of Jesus Christ, and that you may hear by-andby how the fight goes on with the powers of darkness.

We have been giving many hundreds of children and young persons information concerning the island of Ceylon, and its people, since I last wrote you, and they have appeared to be very much interested and pleased with the beautiful views we have shown them. Lectures have been given at Islington, and John Street, Bedford Row; by the Rev. T. J. Cole; at Arthur Street, Walworth; by Mr. Olding; and at Maze Pond; Buttesland Street, Hoxton; Lion Street, Walworth ; and Woolwich, by the Secretary. Thinking of Ceylon, reminds me that Mr. Allen, our devoted Missionary there, is very unwell, and obliged to come home. So you see while some are going out in the vigour of health, others are suffering from the heat of the burning sun by day, and the moisture of the heavy dews by night, and obliged for a time to lay aside their arms. Let us unite in praying that God will send forth more labourers into his harvest. At Westbourne Grove, and Eagle Street, the boys and girls are going to raise sufficient money to support two Mission Schools. That's a bit of good news for me to close my letter with.

Your faithful friend,

33, Moorgate-street, London, February 15th.

THE SECRETARY.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

THE Editor has to thank many friends for kind com. munications. His acknowledgments are specially due to the Rev. E. W. for his kind personal effort to increase the circulation of the Magazine. If other pastors would themselves go into their schools, and endeavour to interest the children in the matter, as well as in Missions generally, the sale would soon be very largely increased.

The verses by J. B. are good in sentiment, but not quite poetical enough.

"OH MAMMA, what shall I do with my penny?" said a little boy, after he had several times lost and found his newly-acquired treasure, all in the space of an hour. "What you like, my love; I like you to learn how to dispose of your money."

Again the penny was pocketed by the little boy, with a sigh, and "Oh dear, I do want to do something with my penny; I can't wait till we go down the town, because it is so cold; we shan't go a long time." Just then Ruth came in. She was older than her little brother, and had learnt the use of money.

"O Ruth, do tell me what to do with my penny?" "Put it in my missionary box," cried Ruth, delighted with the chance of adding weight to her heavy treasure: "Oh do put it in my missionary box."

"But will it be quite safe there?" inquired the little boy.

"Oh yes, quite safe; and it will be a very useful penny indeed."

"Well, you must let me drop it in myself, you know," said the young one.

The bargain was soon completed. Ruth was as pleased to get a chair and reach down her box off the shelf as the little boy was to slip it in the hole and hear it fall.

Have you a missionary box on the shelf at home? If not, ask father if you may have one; your teacher or your minister will tell you where to get one. Don't be thinking, “Oh, I don't know any one who will give me anything." Many a spare penny will find its way in, and be a very useful one; and if there are not many who, like the little boy, do not know what to do with their money, perhaps there are some who would often rather put a penny in their pretty missionary-box, if they saw it on the shelf, than spend it in trifles that only please for a few minutes.

THE

Jubenile Missionary Herald.

THE RUNAWAY.

As a farmer's family were about going to bed one evening, the farmer himself went out to the well to draw a bucket of fresh water. It was dusk, but he thought he saw somebody sitting by the stone wall, with a bundle beside him. "Halloo ! cried the farmer, "who are you?" "I'm myself," said a tired voice; "and I don't know but I've sat down here to die; I may as well." The farmer went towards the poor object, and found a boy, who looked forlorn enough, even in the twilight. "Cheer up!" said the kind farmer," and come into the kitchen: let's see how you are."

The boy got up, and with rather an unsteady step followed the man into the house; he was, indeed, in a pitiable condition; his feet were blistered with travel; his tongue was parched; and, in addition to poverty and homelessness, he seemed to be in a high fever. The kind-hearted family were soon astir on his behalf. They did not stop to make inquiries who he was, or where he came from, but did every thing which his present needs seemed to require. They washed him,

E