Scene VII.

One night Willie is wakened up by a cry of "Fire! Fire!" He dresses in a moment, and rushes out into the farmyard. Here he finds his master and the farm-servants running about, frantic with terror; pigs are squealing, geese cackling, everybody is shouting, but there is no water handy. The flames are making their way from room to room, and now reach the chamber of the farmer's pretty daughter. She is still there; what is to be done? The staircase is burnt; no ladder will reach the window; and there stands the girl, in the midst of the smoke, screaming, and stretching out her arms for help. Willie looks on in despair. Suddenly the giant hands appear to him, and placing themselves against the side of the house, form a ladder with their fingers, up which he quickly springs. He catches the girl in his arms, and in a moment brings her down, safe and sound, to her weeping father.

Now I daresay my little readers have been sufficiently interested in these seven scenes in the life of Willie to wish to know what became of him. Well then, Willie had such good wages that he was able to send money to his mother, and as soon as he grew to be quite a man, he married the farmer's pretty daughter, whose life he had saved. Everybody liked him, and he soon took the entire management of the farm.

But now do you know the meaning of these giant hands? They signify the strength and power arising from industry, talent, and perseverance. The giant hands will come to help all those who, in the right way, try to help themselves.

When Willie was a rich farmer and had a large family, he used to say to his children: "Be honest, kind, industrious, and persevering; then the giant hands will come to help you."

Multiplication is vexation, Division is as bad, The Rule of Three doth puzzle me, And Practice drives me mad.

OLD TOM.

I am sure you would like to hear about an old horse that belonged to my papa when I was a little girl.

Tom had been so handsome when he was young, and thought so much of, that my father kept him long after he was past work. Tom used to lead a very happy life of it in a nice large field, where he had plenty to eat all the summer-day, and no work to do. But there was no pond in this field, only a pump, with a large tub to hold the water; and one of the men used to fill it every day for old Tom.

However, one day, when hay-making was going on, there was a great deal to do for all hands about the place, and Bob the odd man, whose work it was to give old Tom water, was busy helping cart the hay. So when the old horse felt thirsty, and went to his tub for water, he found it empty. He gave a great neigh, and a stamp with his foot; but finding that nobody came, he thought he would help himself, and fell to pumping water into the tub for himself, as you see him in the picture.

IDLE WORDS.

I walked by the side of a tranquil stream, That the sun had tinged with its parting beam; The water was still, and so crystal clear That every spray had its image there.

And every reed that o'er it bowed, And the crimson streak and the silvery cloud, And all that was bright, and all that was fair, And all that was gay was reflected there.

But I took a stone that lay beside, And I cast it far on the glassy tide; And gone was the charm of the pictured scene, And the sky so bright and the landscape green.

And I bade them mark how an idle word, Too lightly said, or too deeply heard, Or a harsh reproof, or a look unkind, May spoil the peace of a heavenly mind.

Though sweet be the peace, and holy the calm, And the heavenly beam be bright and warm, The heart that it gilds is all as weak As the wave that reflects the crimson streak.

You cannot impede the celestial ray That gilds the dawn of eternal day, But you may so trouble the bosom it cheers, 'Twill cease to be true to the image it bears.

MAMMA'S SUNDAY TALK. MIRACLES OF OUR SAVIOUR:

RAISING OF THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS.

The next miracle I have to tell you of, my dear children, is one which shows particularly our Lord's divine quality of mercy. It is called "the raising of the daughter of Jairus," which means--restoring her to life.

Our Saviour was one day at the house of His disciple Matthew at Capernaum, when a man of importance in the city, a ruler in the synagogue, named Jairus, came to Him. This man had an only child, a daughter about twelve years old, who was lying at the point of death; and he came to Jesus in the hope that He would cure her.

Generally, the poor and lowly were the first to believe in our Saviour. The rich were slow to accept the self-denying doctrines which He taught; the learned were too wise in their own esteem to listen to His instruction. But when they were in affliction both the rich and the learned sometimes came to Jesus to seek His aid. So it was in this instance.

We may imagine what the unhappy father suffered at the prospect of losing his darling child,--at the thought of her fading away from him, and sinking into the grave. As he was rich, we may suppose that all had been done by the doctors that could be done; so now in an agony of despair he turned to seek our Saviour. No doubt he thought of all the miraculous cures Jesus had effected, as he went towards Matthew's house, where he found our Saviour at the door teaching a crowd of people. Jairus immediately fell at His feet, and with heart-felt earnestness "besought him greatly" that He would come and see his child.

Jesus rose, and went forth, followed by a number of people, while Jairus led the way to his own house. The poor father would have walked quickly, every moment seeming an age till he reached his sick child's bedside, but the crowd pressing round, interfered with their speed, and soon there arose another cause of delay.

In the crowd was a poor woman who had been very ill for a long time. She had consulted many doctors, but none could cure her; and at last she had spent all her money in trying to regain her health. Hearing that Jesus was near, she approached Him in great fear and trembling. She was almost crushed by the crowd, as she struggled to come near Him; but at length succeeded so far as to be able to stretch forth her hand, and touch the border of His mantle. In a moment she felt that she was recovering from her illness. Our Saviour stopped, and turned towards her, when she cast herself at His feet, fearing for her presumption. But He looked graciously upon her, for He knew why she had touched His garment; then speaking to her, He said:--"Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole." And from that hour she was cured.

After this incident, Jairus was again hurrying on, leading the way to his house, when messengers met him with the agonizing intelligence that the child was already dead--gone beyond the reach of human help. Thereupon Christ turned to Jairus, saying:--"Be not afraid; only believe, and she shall be made whole." For it was as easy to Him to bring back the dead, as to restore the living.

He went into the house with three of His disciples and the parents of the child. Then He addressed words of comfort to the father and mother, saying,--"The damsel is not dead but sleepeth;"--meaning that her death would only be like a short sleep, because He was going to bring her back to life.

Then taking hold of the little girl's hand, as though He were about to waken her from a pleasant sleep, He said: "Talitha cumi!"--that is, "Damsel, arise!" The words were no sooner spoken, than the colour returned to her cheeks, her eyes opened, and she arose as if just awakened from a refreshing sleep.

We are told that "the parents and all present were astonished with a great astonishment." We may also suppose how great was their delight, and how unbounded was their gratitude to our blessed Lord.

SOME OF MY LITTLE FRIENDS:

ALEC AND ELFIE.

In giving you an account of Alec, one of my little boy friends, I must give you at the same time an account of Elfie, one of my little dog friends, for the two are inseparable. Both these friends of mine are Scotch; and I met them first when the little boy was yet in petticoats, and the doggie a tiny little puppy that had just left its mother.

The two young things grew up together, Elfie, the dog, becoming every day more of a companion for Alec, the boy. But the dog grew old the fastest, and when the event I am going to tell you of occurred, Alec was about nine years old and Elfie about seven; which is in fact quite old for a dog, and an age at which he is likely to be as wise as ever he will be.

Alec had no brother, but he had a cousin at whose house he used to spend a good deal of his time. Little Arthur was about four years younger than Alec, and would follow him about like his shadow, looking up to his big cousin as an authority on all matters. He learnt from Alec to consider Elfie the most wonderful dog in the world, with more sense than most people. He thought Elfie understood everything that was said to him, and could do almost everything he was told to do. Many an hour the three would spend together; and Alec and Arthur never appeared tired of seeing Elfie go through the common dog's trick with a piece of sugar on his nose. When the word "Trust" was said to him, he let the sugar remain on the tip of his nose, while he only squinted at it with all his might. Directly he heard the words "Paid for" he would jerk it into the air, and snap it up as it fell. This is how the three are amusing themselves, you see, in the picture.

One morning when it was very hot, Arthur's mamma and I were sitting under the shade of some trees in the garden, working and reading. We knew that little Arthur was about somewhere in the garden or the grounds with his cousin Alec, who, we thought, was old enough to keep the little one out of harm's way. Suddenly we heard a sound of panting and puffing, and saw Elfie tearing across the garden towards us. With his short legs and long hair he appeared as if he was rolling over the ground: his little red tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and we could see his bright eyes gleaming with excitement through the overhanging locks of hair.

"What can be the matter with the dog?" exclaimed Arthur's mamma, jumping up. "Has he gone mad?"

As she spoke, Elfie began barking furiously, and seizing her dress in his mouth, tried to drag her away. A thought struck me, and I cried out,--"Something is wrong with the boys, and Elfie has come to let us know!"

In the direction Elfie had come from, but hidden from our view by trees, was a large piece of water: towards this we hastened. Fortunately Arthur's papa was sitting in the library, of which the window was open: we called to him as we ran, and he followed as fast as he could. Coming in sight of the water, our worst fears were realized. Only a few yards from the bank, but in quite deep water, we beheld the canoe floating bottom upwards, and the two boys clinging to it; or rather, Alec clinging to the canoe with one arm, and with the other supporting Arthur, who had fainted.

The father plunged in instantly, and in a moment brought Arthur to shore, and placed him in his mother's arms. Alec, left alone, easily supported himself by the canoe till his uncle returned, and brought him also on to the bank. The fault was Alec's, who had taken out the canoe from the boat-house without permission; but what praise could be too great for Elfie, who had probably saved two lives by his intelligence? We all agreed he was the most wonderful doggie in the world.

MORNING.

1. Wake up, little Maud, 'tis a sunshiny day, The kitten is up, and already at play; And Maud like the merriest kitten can run, And scamper, and frolic, and laugh at the fun.

2. Wake up, little Maud, for on thicket and tree The birdies are singing as gay as can be. As sweet and as clear can my little Maud sing As ever the merriest bird on the wing.

3. Wake up, little Maud, for the flowers are awake, The sweet breezes are blowing on mountain and lake; The world is all beauty and brightness to-day, Then wake, little Maud, with the roses to play.

A STORY OF A WOODEN HORSE.