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ing the seed all by himself, in soil so unprepared to receive it, and with the thorns so thickly about hi path, as he ploddingly goes forward with the preciou germs of truth; if it were not for trust, he could neve endure the labour; but he is willing, quite willing to trust, even though he should never live to see the har vest; he feels sure it will come, for God has said so, and his promises never fail. You can help the Missionary to trust in many ways; he will rejoice to hear tha you are praying for him, or perhaps that you hop one day to help him; who can tell, God may honor you by letting you sow the seed for him in some por tion of his large field-the world.

"Mother, I want to take my penny to the heathe myself," said little Freddy, three years old; "perhap it won't go if I put it in my Missionary-box." The little boy, you see, did not exactly understand that w do not want the pence to send to the heathen, but the we may send books and ships with good people to teach them. But his mother said, "Well, love, I will pu your penny by in my drawer, and if you wish to got the heathen when you are a man, you shall take you penny yourself. Who knows but this little though of my dear boy's," said his mother, may be a littl seed that shall spring up and grow, planted by Go himself." And, dear little ones, do you ever findi hard to trust, in the little that you are able to do for God and his cause? Remember the little seed dow in the dark hole; don't be afraid, only trust.

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A SINGHALESE GENTLEMAN.

THE apostle Paul once had a dream. There stood by his bedside a man of Macedonia, and said,

A SINGHALESE GENTLEMAN.

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"Come over and help us." The gentleman so strangely dressed whom you see on the next page says the same to you.

His home is in the island of Ceylon, a land which the readers of the JUVENILE MISSIONARY Herald must not forget. He is a believer in Buddha, who was once a man, so holy, so pure, so wise and great, that he is said to have become, what? A god? No. An angel? No. What then? NOTHING. Yes, to

become Nothing is the brightest and most glorious hope of the natives of Ceylon. The gentleman whom you see expects that some day this may be his happiness too. Only he must first become many things in turn. When he dies, he thinks his soul may perhaps pass into a cow, perhaps into a monkey, by-and-by into a man again. He must try to be as good as he can, that the next place of his spirit may be a better one than his last. So he goes to the temples, looks upon the images of Buddha, bows down before the priests with their long yellow robes, and stands still to listen to long readings out of the sacred books, of which he does not understand one word. If he is diligent in all this, he thinks that some day his soul may dwell in the body of a priest-and then he will be far on the way to his heaven-the wonderful heaven and perfect happiness of being Nothing!

Do you not long to teach him to know the true God, and the real way to heaven? Ah, perhaps he will not learn! But his children may be taught, that they may become wiser, when they grow up, than to believe such follies. We shall have something to tell you about the Ceylon Mission schools before long. Go on helping them, as heartily as you can.

There is one reason why English people and English children should be especially ready to send the gospel to Ceylon, as well as to Hindostan. The inhabitants of both are our fellow-subjects. Victoria is their queen, as well as ours.

The gentleman

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whose picture you see, used to believe that the

reason why the English are masters of Ceylon is, that they got possession of the tooth of Buddha! The English, however, have given up the tooth to the Singhalese chiefs, yet the island is ours still.

NINEVEH.-ITS BEGINNING.

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Perhaps the finding out of the uselessness of the tooth may make the people doubtful of other things they once believed about Buddha. Let us pray that as they are our fellow-subjects of the Queen of England, they may by the knowledge of the true God be made fellow heirs of the kingdom of heaven.

B. Y.

NINEVEH.-ITS BEGINNING.

LONG ago so long that no one can tell how many ages have passed since then-Ninus, king of Assyria, and descendant of the mighty Nimrod, said to himself, "I am great, and rich, and powerful, what more do I want? I will build the greatest city in the world." So he called together his armies, and gathered much wealth, and laid the foundations, upon the banks of the Tigris, of a city, which he called after his own name, NINEVEH. When finished, it was nearly twenty miles long, and more than ten miles wide. Its walls were a hundred feet high, and so wide that three chariots might be driven on them abreast. On the walls were fifteen hundred towers, each as high as the monument of London. Within the city were fair palaces and solemn temples, mansions, parks, and gardens. The richest of the Assyrians came there to dwell. And King Ninus rejoiced, and said, "My work is done. My city is the noblest and most beautiful that the eyes of men have ever seen. I shall die; but NINEVEH shall endure for ever!" What became of Ninus and his boastings? The

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