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them three shillings, to be shared amongst them, for bed and bread, and said, "Good night." So they parted.

About three weeks after this the same gentleman was going under St. Clement Danes' archway. A little ragged shoeblack was kneeling at one side. After the customary "Clean your bo-ots, Sir?" the boy made a dive forward, and stood grinning with delight, right in front of the gentleman and his friend. The former had not the least notion who he was so at last he said, "Well, my boy, you seem to know me; and who are you?”

"Please, Sir, I'm Jack."
"Jack-Jack who?"

"Only Jack, Sir, please, Sir." All at once it came across him who the lad was.

"I remember you now," he said. "Have you tried to keep your promise to love the Lord Jesus, and show how much you love Him by obeying Him?"

"Yes, Sir, I have; indeed I have," he answered, with the greatest earnestness.

Inexpressibly delighted, the gentleman stopped and talked to him a little, making an excuse by letting him clean his shoes.

"Can you read, Jack?" he asked. "Yes, Sir; not over well; but I

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can make shift to spell out a page."

"Would you like a Testament of your own, where you could read for yourself the story you heard the other night ?"

There was no answer, but half a chuckle of happiness at the bare idea. There was no pretence about the lad. The dirty little thief had set his face heavenwards.

shall have one.

"I see you would like it, Jack," added his friend. "Come to my rooms at to-morrow, and you 'Good bye." Exactly at the appointed hour on the morrow came one modest, eager tap at the door. In walked Jack. He had been to some neighbouring pump, poor fellow, and washed himself, not clean, but streaky. He had plastered his hair down meekly, in honour of his visit. There was nothing "taking" about him. He was very ugly; and, had it not been for a humble, repentant look, would have been repulsive. That, however, he was not. gentleman shook hands with him, said he was glad to see him, and made him come and sit by him.

The

"Jack, why do you want a Testament ?"

"To read about Him you told us of," said he, shortly.

"Why do you want to read about

POOR JACK.

Him? because you love Him, is it ?"

Jack nodded once, shortly and decisively. There was no doubt about the matter, not a whit. << Why do you love Him ?" Jack was silent. His little ordinary features moved in a singular way; his eyes twinkled; his breast heaved. All at once he dropped his head on the table, sobbing as if his heart would break. "'Cause they killed Him," gasped poor Jack.

It was with some difficulty the gentleman restrained his own tears. The fervent belief in the Lord's death; the clear view which he had of it—that it was for him, and that he did in no way deserve it-had melted this poor little wandering heart as it never had been melted before.

He was allowed to cry till his sobs became less frequent, and then the gentleman read to him from St. John's Gospel, and talked to him of the great love of Jesus our Saviour, and of that happy home where we should fall at those blessed feet that were pierced for us, and try to tell Him a little of the love we bear Him. He was then shown how he could

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serve Christ here by being a little missionary, and striving to bring others to Him.

His name was written, or rather printed, at his request, "werry large," in his Testament. The gentleman then prayed with him that the Good Shepherd might help and guide this poor little lamb in his dark and difficult path; and, with a little more talk about his prospects, they parted.

We need scarcely point out the secret of this happy history. That has been clearly shown already. Poor Jack believed that what the Lord did in dying on the cross, He did for him, even for him who was so sinful, so unworthy! The belief of this won his heart, as it always will win the heart of those who really believe it. Nothing else was needed. This heart was now full of Christ and of His love, and he longed to tell other dying sinners of the way in which they, too, might be happy, both here and for ever in heaven. This is the true Missionary spirit— to know Christ so as to feel His dying love in our hearts, and then to try to make it known to others.

Dear readers, will you try to do this ?—Instructor.

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ILESA, ONE OF THE DARK PLACES OF AFRICA.

ILESA, ONE OF THE DARK PLACES OF AFRICA.

THE missionaries in the Yoruba notion, that, from the time of the commencement of the slave-hunting wars, a god of confusion has reigned in their country, but that the white man's God will put the world, which now lies in confusion, to rights again.

country made several journeys last year to explore districts where the white man had never been before. They met with much kindness from the people; and the Gospel message was everywhere listened to with attention.

The Yoruba nation consists of various tribes. One of these, the Ijesa, are people of strong passions, fierce and unruly. Ilesa is one of their principal towns. The Rev. David Hinderer, the missionary at Ibadan, visited it last August for the first time. You will like to hear some particulars connected with his visit. Having secured a lodging, he | tells us that it was rather late before his party were settled in their new abode. Wearied with their journey, they were desirous of rest; but just as they were going to bed, their African friends-the people of the compound—that is, the court-yard in which they had found shelter, began dancing, and drumming, and singing, and kept up their interesting performances till after midnight. They seemed to be rejoicing at the missionary's arrival amongst them. "The white man of the king has arrived, Now the world will become straight,"

formed a part of one of their songs. They seemed to have a general

On his arrival, the chiefs of the place asked him what was the object of his visit; when he told them that the great God, who has given us his Word, commands his servants to teach it to all nations; and that as God was blessing this teaching in other towns of the Yoruba country, he had come to see if they would receive it. If they were willing, he would promise to send them a teacher as soon as he could. On which they asked him whether he could not stop with them at once; declaring that if he would, they would quickly build him a house.

After a large goat, and a bag of cowries, had been brought to him as a present, he tells us he returned to his lodging, rejoicing in spirit that he had been permitted to invite the rulers of another Yoruba tribe to open their gates for the King of Glory to establish his kingdom amongst them.

"Ilesa," Mr Hinderer writes, "is one of the larger towns of the country; but at least half the houses lie in ruins, owing to war without

ILESA, ONE OF THE DARK PLACES OF AFRICA.

and oppression within. I have
never seen in this country a place so
well fortified. The wall is at least
fifteen feet high, and no less than
six thick, with a trench around it
about twenty feet deep. Hundreds
of human skulls are tempered into
this wall. At the north gate I counted
upwards of a hundred, all of which
are those of war captives. It is aw-
ful to think that the walls were
originally built with the sacrifice of
two human beings, who were walled
up alive.
These were none other
than the first-born son and daughter
of the then reigning king!

"The most awful thing is the wholesale slaughter of men, women, and children, on the occasion of the death of the king. My host, his first servant (or slave), with several of his household, will have to die with the present king, if they live till his death. I saw also twelve little boys with brass rings on their ancles: they, together with the same number of girls, will have to die with him, too, and many others.

If the girls come of age before the death of the king, they may be given in marriage; and then other twelve little ones are chosen in their stead.

These poor victims have to be buried with the king, in the same grave, some under, some on both sides of him, and some at his head and feet.

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"But far the most dreadful fate is that of two individuals, who have to be buried alive with him, one sitting over his head, and the other at his feet, with burning lamps in their hands. The grave is generally a large vault dug in the ground: the undertaker has then to put a ceiling to it before he covers it with earth, so that the whole is like a room under ground. And in order that the lampholders may not escape by a bargain with the undertaker, their legs are to be broken before they take their seat near the king's body. This calamity may soon befall those poor people and children, for the king is by no means a young man. But if a missionary were there, he would no doubt prevail on the king to give up such practices, provided the under chiefs would submit to it; for he is a very kind man, and a man of tender feelings towards sufferers; which, according to what was told me, he has shown lately on several occasions.

"One of my constant visitors was the king's own son, a little boy of about four or five years old. On the first day of his visiting me, as he was sitting on the ground, looking intently on me, and all I did, for hours, he was called to his dinner, when he answered boldly, ‘I shall not come: I don't want to eat: here

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POETRY THE PILGRIM'S REST.

impressed with the fierce character I shall sit and look at the white man

till my eye is satisfied.' And on my leaving Ilesa, his grandmother had to tie him on her back, for he would try and run after me, saying he must go with me.

"My African scripture-reader, H. Johnson, seems to have been deeply

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of the Ijesa tribes; for one evening, as we were conversing together, he exclaimed, 'I tell you for true, he who comes to teach these people, he must be like Daniel.' On my asking what he meant, he answered, 'Me tell you, master, if he no able for stop the lion's mouth, he no do for this people." "

WHAT SHE COULD."

pel, the other night, your missionary said that there were millions in that benighted land who had never heard of a God, or a Saviour, or the Holy Ghost. Now, I know God and I love the Saviour, and I want them to know and love Him too, so I'll give you my mite, and ask God's blessing to go with it." Surely, our Saviour would have said of her-" She hath done what she could."-Carrier Dove.

Poetry.

THE PILGRIM'S REST.

I SAW an aged pilgrim,
Whose toilsome march was o'er,
With slow and painful footsteps
Approaching Jordan's shore:
He first his dusty vestment
And sandals cast aside,
Then, with an air of transport,
Entered the swelling tide.

I thought to see him shudder,
As cold the waters rose,
And feared lest o'er him surging
The murky stream should close;
But calmly and unshrinking,

The billowy path he trod,

And, cheered with Jesus' presence, Passed through the raging flood.

On yonder shore to greet him,
I saw a shining throng,
Some just begun their praising,
Some had been praising long.
With joy they bade him welcome,
And struck their harps again,
While through the heavenly arches
Pealed the triumphal strain.

Now in a robe of glory,

And with a starry crown,

I see the weary pilgrim

With kings and priests sit down;
With prophets, patriarchs, martyrs,
And saints, a countless throng,
He chants his great deliverance,
In never-ceasing song.

Church Missionary Gleaner,

Price 6d. per doz. or 3s. 6d. per 100; 20 copies sent free by post for 10d., paid in advance. Published by GALL & INGLIS, 6 George Street, Edinburgh. HOULSTGN & WRIGHT, London.

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