THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

To a room where three young ladies sate,
The child was quickly led
"Piety, Prudence, Charity;"

To herself, she softly said.

"What is your name, my little dear?"

Said the eldest of the three,

Whom Marian, in her secret thought,
Had christen'd Piety!"

"We'll send a servant to your friends,
How uneasy they must be !"
Admiringly they watched the child,
For she was passing fair;-
Around her bright and lovely face,
Fell waves of auburn hair,
And modestly she told her name,

With whom she lived, and where.
"How did you lose your way, my love?"
She gently raised her head,

"I do not think I've lost my way," The little Pilgrim said.

"This is the Palace Beautiful!'

May I stay here to-night?"

They smil'd and said, "We're glad our house,

Finds favour in your sight!

Yes, gladly we will lodge you here,

For many nights to come."

"Thank you," she cried, "but I soon

Must seek my Heavenly Home!

The valley of the Shadow of Death'

Is near your house I know."

She stopp'd, for she saw with great surprise,

Their tears began to flow!

She little thought that mourning dress,

Which all the ladies wore,

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THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

Was for one whom they had dearly loved,
And should see on earth no more.
Their brother had been called away,
Their brightest and their best!
No wonder then that Marian's words,
Roused grief in every breast.-
Sobs only for awhile were heard,
At length, the mother said,
"My child, you have reminded us,
Of our loved and early dead!
But this you could not know, my dear,

And it indeed is true,

We all are near to death's dark door,
E'en little girls like you!"

"Yes," said the timid, trembling child,
"I know it must be so;

But ma'am I hope that Piety,

May be with me when I go!

6

And will you show me your armoury,'

When you have time to spare,

I hope you'll have some small enough
For a little girl to wear?"

No more she said, for Piety

As Marian called her, cast
Her arms around our Pilgrim's neck,
"The secret's out at last!
You puzzled all;" said Piety,
"But now I see you've read
A glorious book, which unexplained
Has turned your little head.-
Oh dearly, when I was a child,
I loved that Pilgrim's tale,
But then mamma explained it well,
And if we can prevail

THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

On your kind aunts, to let you stay
Some time with us, my dear,

You shall read that book with my mamma,

And she will make it clear."
Now we'll return to Marian's home,

And see what's passing there-
The servants all had company,

And a merry group they were!
They had not missed our Pilgrim long,
For they knew she oft would play,
In that old garden, with a book,
The livelong summer day.

"Betty," at last said the housekeeper,
"Where can Miss Marian be?
Her dinner was in her basket packed,
But sure she 'll come in to tea!"

They sought her here, they sought her there,
But they could not find the child,

And her poor old aunts, when they came home,
With grief, were nearly wild.

The coachman and the footman too,

On different ways were sent,

But none thought of the "narrow way,"
Through which our Pilgrim went.
"Perhaps she followed us to town,"
Poor aunt Rebecca said,

"I wish we had not left our home

I fear the child is dead!"

So to the town the coachman went,
For they knew not what to do,

And night came on, when a country boy,
Brought Marian's little shoe.

With the shoe in her hand, the housekeeper
Into the parlour ran,

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THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

"Oh! mistress, this is all that's left,
Of poor Miss Marian!

It was found sticking in the mud,

Just above Harlem's chase,

Poor child! I fear she's smothered there,
For 'tis a frightful place!"

Then louder grew the ladies' grief,

But soon their hearts were cheered,

For a footman grand, with a note in hand,
From a distant Hall appeared.

Aunt Ruth now read the note and cried,

"Oh sister! all is well,

The child is safe at Brooklawn Hall,

With Lady Arundel!

Who wants to keep her for a month,—
Why yes, I think she may,
Such a friend as Lady Arundel
Is not met with every day!
Our compliments and thanks to her
When you return, young man,
We'll call to-morrow at the Hall,
And see Miss Marian!"

Then came a burst of grateful joy,
Which could not be suppressed,

And with thankful hearts and many tears,
The ladies went to rest.

We'll take a peep at our Pilgrim now,

There in her bed lies she;

How blissful were her dreams that night

In the arms of Piety!

Oh that happy month at Brooklawn Hall,
How soon it passed away ;-

Cheerful and good were Marian's friends,
And who so kind as they!

THE LITTLE PILGRIM.

And more than all, while there she staid,

They did their best to bring,
Their little lamb to that sweet fold

Where reigns the Shepherd King!
Yes, many a lesson ne'er forgot,
The little Marian learned,

And a thoughtful, and a happy child,

She, to her home returned.

Years rolled away-the scene is changed,

A wife and mother now,

Marian has found the "wicket gate,"

Herself, and children too.

And oh! how sweet it is to see,

This little Pilgrim band,

As on towards their Heavenly Home,
They travel hand in hand.

When cloudy days fall to their lot,

They see a light afar,

The light which shone on Bethlehem's plain,
The Pilgrim's guiding star!

And now dear reader, whosoe'er

Or wheresoe'er you be,

Who ponder on this strange, true tale,

Of Marian's history;

If to the flowers of your young hearts,
Instruction's dew is given,

Oh! be earnest, as our Marian was,
To seek the road to Heaven!

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NAPOLEON said 'Let war feed war' it did so and Russia spread her table-cloth of snow to receive the fragments of the feast.