safety of thousands of human beings depends. But the land thus reclaimed must be drained to be fit for crops and pasture, and this would be impossible without constant pumping. To effect this, the power of the wind has been brought into requisition, and windmills, connected with powerful pumping machinery, are stationed all over the country; and thus one element, by the ingenuity of the industrious inhabitants of Holland, has been employed to keep the other under subjection; and 'as the wind blows, the mill goes,' ever pumping out the waste water into the canals and rivers. Wind power is used in Holland for every purpose where water and steam power are used by us; and the windmills of Saardam saw wood, grind corn, make paper, and drive machinery of all kinds. Saardam is also remarkable as containing the cottage in which Peter the Great, Czar of all the Russias, once resided. This extraordinary incident occurred in 1696. Desirous of constructing a navy, of which Russia was then destitute, Peter the Great came to Saardam in the disguise of a sailor, and obtained employment as a common shipwright in one of the building yards. For a considerable time his true rank was not discovered, but when at last it was, he insisted that the familiarity with which his fellow-workmen had treated him should be continued, until, after a residence of two years, he became thoroughly conversant with the construction of a ship. This knowledge he afterwards turned to excellent account when he returned to his dominions. After walking some distance, admiring all we saw, we at length came to the dwelling of the great Czar, a cottage like the others, only not so neat or so pretty, for they try to keep it as much as possible in the state in which he left it. In place of a garden in front there is a small woodyard, a small garden at the side, through which you approach the house, and a ditch running round the whole. You enter at once into what was the sittingroom, which, with another small room containing a box bed, and a little bit of a kitchen, is the entire size of the house, altogether more like a Highland cottage than anything I have seen elsewhere, only not so well furnished. Everything remains just as Peter left it, even to the blankets he slept in; round the room are some very rude pictures, darkened by age, with the wooden frames quite black, and in the wall are several small marble tablets, put up by great men who have visited the place. One I particularly remember was put up by the Emperor Alexander of Russia, when he visited Saardam in 1814. After fully inspecting this truly interesting remnant of the olden time, we took a long walk through the village, and on our way back to the steamer, went into one of the churches, which, although Presbyterian (the Established Church of Holland), contained some curious painted windows, representing a scene which took place some years ago, when the sea broke down the dykes, and rushed into the village, carrying destruction everywhere. The people all took refuge in the church, bringing their children, cattle, with everything they could save; and for several days the church was their only shelter. These windows were subscribed for, and put up by the villagers as a memorial. One We had quite a little service in the church-hymns sung and prayer offered in French; and then, after dropping some offerings into the poor-box, went our way to the steamer and set sail again for Amsterdam. English minister proposed that we should sing some hymns, he raising the tune, and most of those present joined; many of our well-known hymns having been translated into German, French, and Dutch. After this Dr. Krummacher led some of the fine old German hymns, giving out the words, two lines at a time; and thus we reached Amsterdam, cheered by our visit to Saardam, which will never be forgotten. G. J. THE RAILWAY ACCIDENT. TWO POOR HORSES KILLED. A SCREAM, a whistle, a red flag waved, I tell my darling child the tale, But that my precious lamb may learn They broke away from their leader's hand; We're saved, thank God! but there they lie, But be not ye like to horse or mule ;"1 We are never safe but in duty's way; And happy the child who has learned to obey. 1 Ps. xxxii. 10. F. W. H. . "THE HONEST LITTLE MUSICIAN.' STORY, a story; a true story, please, Aunt Kate !' was the exclamation of a group of merry children, clustered round the schoolroom fire, one dark winter's afternoon, when work and play were both over for the day. The request was too earnest and unanimous to be refused; and, indeed, long and frequent practice had made compliance with it very easy, so Aunt Kate took the arm-chair prepared for her, and began: 'My story shall be of a little boy in France.' 'But is it really a true story?' 'Yes, really true.' 'All right then, Auntie; please go on.' 'Just at the time that the terrible war between Charles 1. and his people was raging in our island, a young monarch reigned in France, widely known as the "Grand Monarque," though it is hard to understand why Louis XIV. should be called great, as surely there is nothing so utterly mean as selfishness and cruelty. At his gay court few were so powerful as the Duke of Guise; and few, if any, so beautiful, gay, and witty as his cousin, the Duchess of Montpensier, better known as Mademoiselle; and with both those grand personages my little boy's story is connected. 'Baptiste Lulli was born in Florence; his parents, poor but respectable, both died while he was yet young-his mother when he was but a few months old. From her he inherited an intense love and a great talent for music. His father lived till the boy was six years old, and then died, leaving him, as his only inheritance, the remembrance of his true and loving words and good example. "Be The Honest Little Musician. 91 "Be honest; honest, be truthful," were his last words. trust in God, and He will take care of you." And poor little Baptiste, in the midst of sorrow, and poverty, and temptation, was both honest and truthful. Often his only lodging was on a door-step. He was too young to work, yet he never stole. One thing besides his words and example had his father left him-an old violin ; with this he earned his bread, though often it was but a dry crust or a handful of olives. On it he played from door to door, and the servants seldom sent him away without breakfast or supper. It was, besides, his loved companion, his comforter, his joy, and his sole possession. 'One evening, as he sat dreamily playing at the door of the principal inn in Florence, the sweet and plaintive tones attracted the attention of the Duke of Guise, who had stopped there for refreshments for an hour, on his return from Naples to Paris. He spoke to the child, was as much pleased by his frank and modest answers as by his music, and when called in to supper, threw him a louis d'or, the very first gold coin our boy had ever touched. "It is gold! it will make me rich! I shall have a new coat, and not go to bed supperless for many a day," were his first thoughts. "It is a mistake; it must be; that great man could never mean to give me gold for that music. It is not mine, and I must give it back," were the second. 'The temptation was strong-how strong, we who were never friendless and hungry can hardly imagine; but he remembered his dying father's words, and resolved, "I may be poor, but I will never be dishonest." 'But how return it? In vain he begged of the duke's servants to let him speak even for one moment to him; they only pushed him roughly aside. The carriage was at the door: another minute, and the duke had taken his seat in it; another, and he would be gone. In desperation the child sprang on the door-step, favoured by the darkness, in the hope that when the carriage stopped, as surely it would soon stop, he should manage to return |