FEW months ago our young friends would frequently hear of the travels of the Prince of Wales in India. That country is very large, and is inhabited by different tribes and races, speaking various tongues and entertaining different religious beliefs. Amongst those varieties there is a class who are called by the English, Parsees. They are not very numerous, but they are very rich, intelligent, and influential. The Parsees were originally Persians, but were driven out of their own country by the persecutions of the Mohammedans. They settled chiefly on the coast, and they have become distinguished in the art of shipbuilding. In the city of Bombay there are 20,000 Parsees, and the dockyard is almost exclusively in their hands. The Parsees today profess the same religion that King Darius did, of whom we read in the Book of Daniel. Their sacred writings are called

Zend Avesta, which means The Text. The great teacher whom they honour is called Zoroaster. The principal feature in their belief is that there are in the universe two great rival persons. The good divinity they call Ormazd, the evil-minded they call Ahriman. They regard the sun as the eye of Ormazd, and the stars as his attendants, and so these objects are worshipped. And as from the word of Ormazd proceeded everything that was beautiful and good, so all evil things were created by Ahriman. There are several particulars in which likenesses may be seen between the religion of the ancient Persians and that of the Jews. The people now living in Persia are all Mahometans. The only persons who profess the ancient religion of that country are the Parsees who live in India. On our first page there is the portrait of a Parsee gentleman.

ORE than thirty years ago there was a little boy in Glasgow who was very fond of stories. He was accustomed to go in the afternoon to a neighbour's house, where stories were told all round by boys like himself. There were stories told about robbers; and stories about ghosts-foolish stories; and stories about poor boys who went to rich London and became great men ; and stories about sailor boys who had been shipwrecked and cast on desert islands in the midst of the tumbling sea-fine stories. It was a very pleasant sight to see the fire blazing on the hearth, and the boys all seated within its light, each telling his story in his turn.

The boy I speak of would have been entirely happy at that fireside but for one

little fear. In the street where he lived there was a graveyard. His father's house was on the one side, and the house where the stories were told was on the other. To go back to his father's house he had to pass this graveyard, and he was afraid to pass that way after dark; so he had to leave every evening before the stories were ended. Sometimes, in the midst of a very good story, he would be seen turning his eyes to the window and watching the darkening sky, as if he would keep the night from coming on.

One day the boys happened to be alone in the house. The stories were all fine, and the fire was warm, and they all forgot that the hours were passing away. The sun went down; the sky grew dark-nothing

was to be seen at the window but blackness. But just as they had reached the middle of a story there came a flash of lightning from the sky, and after that a peal of thunder, and then rain, thick and heavy, dashing against the panes.

My little friend remembered the graveyard in a moment, and wished he were at home. He went to the door; but the light of the fire, as it fell forward across the street, made the darkness seem more dark. "I wish I were at home," he said.

He was a timid little boy, and began to weep. He was afraid of the dark night and the rolling thunder, but especially he was afraid of the graveyard.

After a long while he got courage to say, Keep the door open, and cry after me till I am out of hearing, and I will not be afraid." The other boys agreed, and opened the door to let him out. But just at that moment there came another flash of lightning, and another roll of thunder, and he and they ran back and cowed beside the fire.

"Come with me, some of you," he next said. "Come, two of you; I am afraid to go alone." But the other boys were very little older than himself. And now they also were afraid, and they began to cry.

Eight o'clock! Nine! "Oh, I wish I were at home!"

Ten! and still he is afraid to go. Half-past ten! Eleven! "Oh, I wishI wish I were at home!"

He went to the door a third time. He

I

still saw nothing but the black wet night. He cried more bitterly than before. He cried as if his heart would break, "I wish -I wish-I wish I were at home!"

While he was sobbing out these words, he saw a star of light twinkling through the gloom. It came nearer and nearer, and grew bigger the nearer it came. Joy! It was light from his father's house! His brother, carrying a lantern, had come to bring him home. It was as if daylight had come back again. His crying was at an end; his tears were dried up. He became bold as a lion. The fear of the graveyard went away, and he stepped out into the darkness with a smile on his face. His brother was by his side, and the light of his brother's lantern would light him home!

Now, Christ does for His dying brothers and sisters just what this boy's brother did for him. He comes for them, with light from their Father's house, and takes them by the hand to lead them home.

Our life upon the earth is like the storytelling of these boys. We are all storytellers, telling our stories to each other. The hour of death comes, to bring our storytelling to an end. Suddenly we find that the day of life is spent. The sun goes down. The night comes up. We cannot remain on the green earth and beside the ruddy fires any longer. Oh, it is pleasant in that hour-it dries up all our sorrows— when the Elder Brother is seen by the soul of the dying one coming from the home in the sky!-The Appeal.

HAVE tried both ways; I speak from experience. I am in good spirits, because I take no spirits; I am hale, because I use no ale; I take no antidote in the form of drugs, because I take no poison in the form of drinks. Thus, though in the first instance I sought only

the good, I have found my own also since I became a total abstainer. I have these four reasons for continuing to be one: first, my health is stronger; second, my head is clearer; third, my heart is lighter; fourth, my purse is heavier.-Thomas Guthrie, D.D.

S

OME few years ago, a lad who was left without father or mother, of good natural abilities, went to N- alone and friendless, to get a situation in a store, as errand-boy or otherwise, till he could command a higher position; but this boy had been in bad company, and acquired the habit of calling for his "bitters" occasionally, because he thought it looked manly. He smoked cheap cigars also.

He had a pretty good education, and on looking over the papers, he noticed that a merchant in Pearl-street wanted a lad of his age, and he called there, and made his business known.

"Walk into the office, my lad," said the merchant, "I'll attend to you soon."

When he had waited on his customer, he took a seat near the lad, and he espied a cigar in his hat. This was enough. "My boy," said he, "I want a smart, honest, faithful lad; but I see that you smoke cigars, and, in my experience of many years, I have ever found cigar smoking in lads to be connected with various other evil habits; and, if I am not mistaken, your breath is an evidence that you are not an exception. You can leave; you will not suit me."

John-for this was his name-hung down his head, and left the store; and as he walked along the street, a stranger and friendless, the counsel of his poor mother came forcibly to his mind, who, upon her death-bed, called him to her side, and placing her emaciated hand upon his head, said, "Johnny, my dear boy, I'm going to leave you. You well know what disgrace and misery your father brought on us before his death, and I want you to promise me, efore I die, that you will never taste one drop of the accursed poison that killed your father. Promise me this, and be a good boy, Johnny, and I shall die in peace."

The scalding tears trickled down Johnny's cheeks, and he promised ever to remember the dying words of his mother, and never to drink any spirituous liquors; but he soon forgot his promise, and, when he received the rebuke from the merchant, he remembered what his mother had said, and what he had promised her, and he cried aloud, and people gazed at him as he passed along, and boys railed at him. He went to his lodgings, and throwing himself upon the bed, gave vent to his feelings in sobs that were heard all over the house.

But John had moral courage. He had energy and determination, and ere an hour had passed, he made up his mind never to taste another drop of liquor nor smoke another cigar as long as he lived. He went straight back to the merchant. Said he,

Sir, you very properly sent me away this morning for habits that I have been guilty of; but, sir, I have neither father nor mother, and though I have occasionally done what I ought not to do, and have not followed the good advice of my poor mother on her death-bed, nor done as I promised her I would do, yet I have now made a solemn vow never to drink another drop of liquor nor smoke another cigar; and if you, sir, will only try me, it is all I ask."

The merchant was struck with the decision and energy of the boy, and at once employed him. At the expiration of five years, this lad was a partner in the busi ness, and is now worth three thousand pounds. He has faithfully kept his pledge, to which he owes his elevation.

Boys, think of this circumstance, as you enter upon the duties of life, and remember upon what points of character your destiny for good or for evil depends.

EEP pushing 'tis wiser

Than sitting aside,
And dreaming and sighing,
And waiting the tide.

In life's earnest battle,
They only prevail
Who daily march onward,
And never say fail!

With an eye ever open,

A tongue that's not dumb, And a heart that will never

To sorrow succumbYou'll battle and conquer, Though thousands assail: How strong and how mighty, Who never say fail!

The spirit of angels

Is active, I know, As higher and higher In glory they go: Methinks on bright pinions From heaven they sail, To cheer and encourage Who never say fail!

In life's rosy morning,
In manhood's firm pride,
Let this be the motto

Your footsteps to guide;
In storm and in sunshine,
Whatever assail,
We'll onward and conquer,
And never say fail!

RRANGEMENTS

66

There," she said, "it's always so when I want to go anywhere. My pleasure is always spoiled just so." Then she jumped out of bed with a face quite as cloudy as the sky. During all the forenoon she was as sour and cross to her parents as if they had brought on the heavy rain on purpose to tease and vex her. “She wanted to get some flowers," she said, "and she knew the rain would beat them all to pieces."

"There is a flower in the house I wish Julia would go a-Maying for," said her father.

The child looked up to her father and said, “We've no house-flowers, father, and

that is the very reason I wanted to go into the woods to gather some. I do want some flowers."

"So do I," answered her father; "but there is one in particular that I want. It has the brightest colours and the sweetest smell, and sometimes it fairly sparkles with beauty. It is a favourite flower of mine; for it is not only beautiful itself, but it makes those who have it beautiful too." "What is it?" asked Julia, becoming quite interested about it. "Is it a May or a house-flower ?"