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THE JUVENILE COMPANION. He may have made one class of beings." after bis own'' likeness," on which he bestows as much care as on us; and it is also quite possible, that they may be much more. grateful to Him for his care than many of us are.

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SUNDAY, THE HAPPY DAY. “Now, my dear little Charlie," said his mamma, “ ve must begin to put away the toys, because, you know, this is Saturday evening."

"Oh yes, mamma, so it is. I had almost forgotten it; and then tomorrow is the happy day.' Oh, I am so glad ', it is come again so soon."

The Noah's Ark was brought and put by in the closet, also the maps and games of all sorts ; and last of all, the rocking-horse was carried safely up stairs, and stowed" away in the luniber-room.

“Now, dear mamma,” said Charlie, "all is quite tidy and ready, ready for Sunday; may I come and sit beside you, just a little while, before I go to bed ? and you will find me a text to learn for to-morrow. I should so like something about Sunday being the happy day."

“ Well, my darling, I will find you a very short one. It is in the 58th chapter of Isaiah, 13th verse : Call the Sabbath a delight.' Will that be what you wanted ?" 1

« Oh yes, dear mamma, that is beautiful, and so very | short that I shall hardly have to learn it at all.”

"And now, good night, my dear boy ; try and recollert, when you wake to morrow morning, that it is God's day, and that we are to keep it holy.”

Little Charlie soon fell asleep; and when he awoke the next morning the sun was shining brightly into his room, | and the sweet birds were singing, as though they too felt! that Sunday was a happy day.

It was always Mrs. Brown's custom to have her little | boy into her room before breakfast on Sunday mornings, and to pray with him for a blessing on the day. She was anxions that her dear child should from his earliest years

be taught to love the Sabbath, and to look upon that day as the “ best of all the seven." For this end she tried to make it as interesting as possible to him, and he now looked forward to Sunday as one of his happiest days.

After breakfast he repeated his little text, and also the first verse of a favourite hymn, beginning

" Around the throne of God in heaven,

Ten thousand children stand," &c. His great delight was to get his Bible, and ask his mamma to find him something to read that he could understand, or to sit at her feet while she explained some history which was more difficult. The story which had been chosen for this morning was that of the three Jewish children in the fiery furnace, and Charlie listened with eagerness to the account of their wonderful deliverance from the painful death which threatened them. At the house of God the dear child was very quiet and solemn in his behaviour; and though too young to understand all he heard, yet he tried to remember in whose house he was, and that the eye of God was upon himn in an especial manner while there.

Bible stories, texts, and the singing of hymns, generally closed the day, and, the last thing, his mamma again knelt with him, and prayed that it might please God to bless the lessons of the day, and to prepare them both by his Holy Spirit for the eternal Sabbath above. Several Sundays passed away in this manner, when one morning, on awaking, Charlie complained of a sore throat. Means were

used to remove it, but it grew rapidly worse ; and the !' flushed cheek and beating pulse told that fever was gaining ground.

The dear child seemed more than usually calm, and seeing his mother in tears, stroked her face with his little burning hand, and said, “Mamma, why do you cry ?" Mrs. Brown feared to tell him what she could hardly realise herself, and for a moment was silent. “Mamma, am I going to die, do you think ?" said the little one. “ You are very ill, my darling child," replied his mother

and we cannot tell whether it may please God to restore

you or not.” This was said in a trembling voice, and Mrs. Brown watched with anxiety what would be the effect on the little sufferer. He looked at her very earnestly, and at last said, “Mamma, won't it be always Sunday in heaven?“ Yes, darling, it will." "Oh, then I am so happy, because I do love Sunday here ; and to have it always Sunday-oh, mamma, I shall • call it a delight!'" “ My sweet child, do you feel afraid when I tell you that we don't know if it will be God's will that you should get well.” “ No, dear mamma; Jesus will take care of me, and then I shall stand before the throne of God in heaven,

Singing, Glory, glory, glory!' “ Mamma, say the next verse, please.” Mrs. Brown repeated

“ What brought them to that world above,

That heaven so bright and fair,
Where all is peace, and joy, and love ?---
How came those children there?

Singing, Glory, glory, glory!Charlie added, putting his little hands together, and | raising his eyes

“ Because the Saviour shed his blood,

To wash away their sin ;
Cleansed in that pure and precious flood,
Behold them white and clean,

Singing, Glory, glory, glory!” He had spoken almost more than he had strength for, and began to complain of his head. From this time fever increased to a high degree, and he was soon quite delirious. His head was shaved, and every means used ; but all in vain. Friday and Saturday passed in this way, and on the morning of Sunday every hour was expected to be his last. It was again a bright and beautiful day, and the sun shone with great brilliancy into Charlie's little room. His “happy day” was indeed come ; and as his mother and father watched their little one, the remembrance of his delight at the return of Sunday, although in some respects

painful to them, yet served to assure them that yet a little, , and their sweet child would be in the presence of that

Jesus whom he loved, and enjoying the eternal Sabbath of which he had so often heard with delight. He had lain for some hours perfectly still, with his eyes shut, when suddenly he opened them, and, fixing them on his mother, said—“Mamma, the happy day-come at last!” The effort had been too great; his eyes gradually closed, and with one long deep sigh, his spirit took its flight.

The next Sunday his body was committed to the ground, beneath a beautiful spreading tree, and close beside the path which his little feet had trodden every Sabbath with such light and happy steps, when on his way to the house of God.

And now, dear children, may all those of you who read this history be like little Charlie. How many children there are who, it is to be feared, feel very sorry when they think that Sunday is coming, because they will have to lay aside their toys, and not be allowed to play; but, oh, if you really love the Saviour, as the dear boy we have been , speaking of did, you will love this day. Do you think you can be happy in heaven, where it is “always Sabbath,” if you feel it a trouble to have that blessed day return once a week only! Pray to God that he will teach you to love

his holy day, and to “call the Sabbath a delight.” Ask I him to wash you from your sins in the precious blood of

Christ, the Lamb of God, and to put his Holy Spirit within you, that you may not only spend a happy day each Sunday that comes round on earth, but that you may spend an eternal Sabbath with Him in heaven when you die. Child's Companion.

THE OLD MILLER'S PRAYER. SNUGLY surrounded by lofty hills, stood the little oldfashioned cottage and the rude mill; in one of which my good friend, the miller, lived, and in the other earned his daily bread. Both had been built and occupied by his father, and here contentedly and prosperously he had lived

to a green old age, and then the old homestead and the business were transmitted to his son. Faithfully had the son adhered to both through life, which as his bent form, wrinkled face, and hoary locks attested, had been long and arduous. But neither were in as good a condition as formerly. Age and service had rendered the cottage ruinous, while competition had injured the business of the mill. Still the old man clung with strong affection to this the home of his childhood, for hallowed associations were connected with it which he could not, would not break. He loved the old grey bills in the bosom of which lie had lived so long. Like giant champions rising around, they seemed to protect his quiet home. Down their rugged sides ran the rippling streams, which formed the rushing current by which the mill was turned. He was their child. Raised in their midst, and nourished by their very breath, te could not leave them now in his old age, and so notwith-, standing patrons bad din inished to a scanty number, the old miller yet remained at the homestead, succeding by hard toil in supplying his children with bread, and trus:ing in the Lord for help in the time of need.

At the time when our story commences, there had been a long continued and most severe drought. Day after day , the lurid sun arose in that peculiar smoky atmosphere so

common at such times, scorching the rarchied earth, and with ring vegetation with its fierce, unceasing heat. The corn-fields, last to suffer from such a cause, exhibited only brown stalks and stunted meagre ears. The price of all kinds of grain had risen to an unprecedented height.

Cattle could hardly find sufficient food to support life. 1: The rivulets dried up, and the mill-stream, which had

rushed in a wide torrent along its course, became a little scanty brook, which a child could cross. The old miller, deprived of his usual means of support, managed for a long time to obtain a supply of food ; but when werk, after week rolled by, and the sky remained unclouded, his heart heart sank within him, for starvation stared him in', the face.

One morning, after a sleepless night, in which he had

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