famished infant. Inside, all three sufferers were growing visibly weaker. The stage of acute agony was past, and they were gradually sinking into the lethargy which precedes dissolution.

Mr.

At last the morning of the fourth began to break, and the first beams of light pouring into the room roused Gertrude and Emily once more to consciousness. They rose instinctively, and for the last time-no one could doubt it would be the last time-prepared to offer their petitions to the throne of mercy. Bernard again roused himself as he heard their voices, and once more flung himself against the massive door, calling frantically on the sentry to allow him to pass out. Mrs. Bernard rose from her knees and threw herself into his arms.

man any more.

"Husband, husband, do not ask your daily bread of Ask it of Him who can alone give itwho can in a moment, if He wills it, deliver this suffering city, even as He delivered the city of Samaria from the extremity of famine. If we do not entreat His mercy, how can we hope to receive it?"

Bernard looked vacantly into the face of the speaker. But at that instant a sunbeam fell full on the figure of his little girl, displaying the thin, wasted features, wrung with premature suffering. The stubbornness of the man's heart gave way. He threw himself on his knees beside the two worshippers, whose feeble lips could scarcely articulate the accustomed words, and uttered aloud the long disused prayer of his childhood.

His voice trembled with a strange earnestness, as he called on his Father in Heaven, praying that His will might be done on earth, as it was in heaven. But when the words which followed rose in their accustomed order to his lips, and he entreated that God would "give them that day their daily bread," he threw so passionate an earnestness into his supplication, that even Emily opened her languid eyes and fixed them wonderingly on her father's face.

A long, dreamy pause followed the conclusion of the prayer, which was broken at last by a dull, booming sound, like that of a cannon in the distance. Mr. Bernard

started and listened eagerly. They had been deceived so often before by the like sounds, and hope had become a thing so impossible during the last two days, that he dared not entertain it now.

But the boom was repeated again and again; and now it was mingled with a noise, which sounded like the shout of a multitude a long way off. He hurried eagerly to the door. The bolt had been withdrawn the French

sentinel was gone. Through the open entrance he could see men rushing by and waving their caps; and presently Francesca and her sister burst into the house carrying baskets in their arms.

The

"The siege is over!" cried the former, as soon as she could speak. "The French are marching off towards Savona; and the Austrians have entered the town. harbour is full of ships loaded with provisions. Bianca and I have been down, and have brought you as much as we could carry. Here are grapes, flour cakes, polenta,

and new milk.

save yours?"

You saved our lives. We have come to

It was only just in time. It was with difficulty that Emily could be made to swallow a little of the polenta, mixed with milk; and for a long time the greatest care had to be taken lest all three should injure themselves by taking too large a supply of food in their exhausted state. But they all happily escaped this danger; and in a few days had recovered somewhat of their former strength.

My wife," said Mr. Bernard, as they rose from their knees, after a solemn thanksgiving, which they had offered together for the merciful deliverance which had been granted them, "you have been a zealous and successful teacher. But after all, no one can teach like Almighty God Himself the force and meaning of His own words." Rev. H. C. Adams.

QUESTIONS.

Why did Bernard keep his family indoors? How much food had they? What was he denied? How was his store exhausted? What did Bernard intend to do? What did his wife and daughter do every morning? Where had he been then? Where was he this day? How did he behave at first? What did they read? What did Bernard do? To whom was he

going? For what? Who stopped him? How long was he kept in? What did they hear outside? How were they feeling? What did they do next morning? What did his wife say to him? What was he doing? What sight softened him? What did he do? What prayer did they all pray? Which part touched him most? What did they hear? Who came in? What news did she bring? What besides news? Who had given them "daily bread" that day?

OUR STEWARDSHIP.

"For all the beasts of the forest are mine; and so are the cattle upon a thousand hills. I know all the fowls upon the mountains; and the wild beasts of the field are in my sight."-PSALM 1. 10, 11.

HIS are the cattle on the hill,

The flocks are in His sight;

The fowls that on the mountains dwell,
The beasts that roam by night.

Yet He who owns this countless host,
The Lord of earth and sky,
Commands that nothing should be lost,
No fragment useless lie.

Learn we from this, unceasing care
Of all our gifts to take;
And every day, the heart's deep prayer
For every grace to make.

Our wealth, in large or scanty store,
But for one hour is lent;
In the world's vain or selfish lore,
No portion must be spent.

Our time, most precious gift of all,
If saved and used aright,
Let not one moment useless fall;
Spend all, as in His sight.

Our feeble frames to cheer and rest,
Sweet sleep and food are given;
So may we use them as may best
Prepare our souls for Heaven.

Our soul's high worth Thou knowest, Lord,

For Thou hast paid the cost;

Such grace to us do Thou afford,

That none of them be lost!

"Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." -JOHN vi. 12.

The Child's Christian Year.

SUEDIA, THE ANCIENT SELEUCIA.

HIGH above the pleasant blue waves of the surrounding ocean, in stately but solitary majesty, rises the lofty and sharp-peaked Cassius. Not a speck in the clear horizon interferes with the navigator's survey of the west.

There lies the peaceful Mediterranean, like one huge mirror left there expressly to reflect the transcendent brilliancy of the morning sun. To our left are the pleasant hills and dales and glens, and rocky promontories, so green with spring's verdure, so redolent of nature's bounty, so variegated in form and shape; and, when all combined, constituting so exquisite a master-touch of skill, so perfect a picture of what God's loving bounty to man has been, when He gave him in His infinite mercy such lovely spots, such Edens to dwell in upon earth.

Yonder before us, skimming over the waters like a storm bird, is a little Arab feleucah. In just such another boat, in all probability, eighteen hundred years ago, the Apostles Paul and Barnabas (Acts xiii. 40) left yonder self-same river, and the then flourishing city of Seleucia, bearers of joyful tidings, first missionaries of the glorious Christian faith to the benighted sons of the island of Cyprus,--that island whose shores were dimly visible from our decks last evening.

Our vessel has anchored just under the lee of the lofty Cassius; before us is the Orontes, meandering amidst a wild profusion of olive trees and mulberries, her banks thickly clustered with wild myrtle and thyme. As she glides gently into the mother ocean, everything is hushed; there is no hum of human voices, no busy stirring scene of

every-day life, and from where our ship lies not even a human habitation to be seen.

Such is the Suedia of the present day, as seen from the shipping in the wide and beautiful bay formed by the Gulf of Antioch. How different from the splendid city of Seleucia in Paul's time, of which now hardly a vestige exists!-a city in whose extensive and wellsecured harbour fleets of richly-laden vessels annually sought refuge from the fierce winter storms that raged along the coast.

We landed in the ship's boat, which was safely guided over the rather dangerous bar at the mouth of the river by an experienced native pilot. After several bends and windings, all which are rapidly passed, aided by the smoothness of the Orontes and a small lugger sail, we eventually reached the custom-house quay.

A miserable collection of mud hovels were built upon this spot, and we felt sadly disappointed, being under the impression that this was all that remained of the city of Seleucia.

Being provided with horses, we mounted and followed our guide, skirting the deep banks of the beautiful Orontes. After half a mile's riding we were agreeably surprised on arriving at a slight eminence by catching a glimpse of the veritable Suedia, close to our feet; and far as the eye could stretch was one interminable range of richly-cultivated meadows and fields, through which the river flowed in a very serpentine course.

Beyond these meadows was a dense forest of mulberry trees and fruit orchards; the variegated hue of their green foliage being admirably set off by the graceful dark-leaved poplar, and interspersed with several tall hillocks, up whose sides grew wild myrtles and blackberry bushes, and whose summits were crowned by a cluster of stately olive trees.

Passing over the meadows, we entered upon the picturesque lanes which intersected the plantations in all directions: there was no highway, so that we were utterly at the caprice of our guide. Following this man's horse, we rapidly passed plantation after plantation; they were all secured by thickly-set hedges, amongst whose branches wild vines and sweet-scented creepers were twined in the wild