"Father and mother, and my two brothers, are dying for the want of bread! said she.

"Where?" asked the little girl, anxiously.

"Rue, No. 10, -" She had only time to add the name of her parents to this communication, when she was carried in before the commissary of the police.

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Meanwhile, the poor family at home suffered all the miseries of suspense. Fears of their child's safety were added to the other afflictions of the parents. At length, they heard footsteps ascending the stairs. An eager cry of hope was uttered by all the four inmates; but, alas! stranger appeared in the place of their own little one. the stranger appeared to them like an angel. Her cheeks had a beautiful bloom, and long flaxen hair fell in curls upon her shoulders. She brought to them bread, and a small basket of other provisions. "Your girl," she said, "will not be back, perhaps, to-day: but keep up your spirits; see what she has sent you." After these encouraging words, the young messenger put into the hands of the father five francs, and then, turning round to cast a look of pity and satisfaction on the poor family, who were overcome with emotion, she disappeared.

The history of these five francs is the most remarkable part of this affair. The little benevolent fairy was, it is almost unnecessary to say, the same pitying spectator who had been addressed by the abstractor of the loaf at the police office. As soon as she heard what was said there, she had gone away, resolved to take some meat to the poor family. But she remembered that her mamma was from home that day, and was at a loss how to procure money or food, until she bethought herself of a resource of a strange kind. She recollected a hair-dresser who lived near her mother's house, and who knew her family. He often commended her beautiful hair, and told her to come to him whenever she wished to have it cut, and he would give her a louis d'or for it. This used to make her proud and pleased; but she now thought of it in a different way. In order to procure money for the assistance of the starving family, she went straight to the hair-dresser's, put him in

mind of his promise, and offered to let him cut off her pretty locks for what he thought them worth.

Naturally surprised by such an application, the hairdresser, who was a kind and intelligent man, made inquiry into the cause of the young friend's visit. Her secret was easily drawn from her, and it caused the hair-dresser almost to shed tears of pleasure. He feigned to comply with the conditions proposed, and gave the bargained fifteen francs, promising to come and claim his purchase at some future day. The little girl then bought provisions, got a basket, and set out on her errand of mercy. But before she returned, the hair-dresser had gone to her mother's, found her at home, and related to her the whole circumstance; so that, when the possessor of the golden tresses came back, she was gratified by being received in the open arms of her blessed and praising parent.

When the story was told at the police office by the hairdresser, the abstractor of the loaf was visited by no very severe punishment. The singular circumstance raised many friends to the artisan and his family, and he was soon restored to health and comfort.

"OH, THAT MOTHER'S PRAYERS!"

IN the spring of 18-, a convict was committed to the charge of friend W—, warden of one of the States in who baffled all his efforts to reclaim him. Friend W learned something of his history from the officer who committed him, and he felt deeply interested to reclaim him from his vicious course, if possible; but the prisoner seemed resolved to maintain his proud and haughty bearing. He received every act of kindness with ingratitude and disdain. In vain did the warden attempt to gain his affection or his confidence. He would sometimes enter his cell, and read to him from the Bible. But the prisoner would turn his back towards him and stop his ears. He would sometimes try to talk with him in accents of kindness and affection; but he could rarely get any more

than the monosyllables, "yes," and "no," uttered in a harsh, gutteral tone, in reply. His three years of punishment passed away, and he left the prison the same hardened, ungrateful villain, that he was when he entered it. But a few months had elapsed, and he was again convicted of a crime, and brought back, sentenced to ten years' imprisonment. Again did the pious and faithful warden renew his efforts, and try to awaken in the prisoner some virtuous emotion. But he seemed dead to all moral influence. He maintained the same obstinate, surly, sullen mood, as when in prison before; and, if possible, more morose than ever.

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Still friend W- was not entirely discouraged, and he resolved to make one more effort. With his Bible in his hand, he entered the prisoner's cell one evening, just after he had been released from his toil. He began to read Psalm li. The prisoner turned his back as usual, and tried to seem indifferent to what was read. When the warden had done reading, he said, “Friend K——, how old art thou?" After a sullen pause, he replied surlily, "Thirtyfive." 66 Thy parents are dead; are they not?" "Yes." They died when thou wast young ?" "Yes." "Dost thou remember thy father?" "No." "Dost thou remember thy mother?" In a soft, tremulous voice he replied, “Yes, I remember my mother." The warden saw that there was one chord of feeling still alive, that he had then touched that chord, and it vibrated, and he continued, “ How old was thou when thy mother died?" The prisoner raised his eyes, and looked the warden in the face, and the teardrops started as he replied, "I was eight years and five months old when she died." The warden resumed-" Was thy mother a pious woman?" "O, yes; my mother was a godly, pious woman, and she is now in heaven." "Didst thou ever hear thy mother pray?" "Yes, she prayed every night and morning, and she taught me to kneel by her side, and to pray also. Oh, that mother's prayers!”

Here the prisoner burst inio tears; the pious quaker wept also they mingled their tears and their prayers. The prisoner seemed melted into contrition; he asked the warden's forgiveness, and the forgiveness of his God. From

that time, he manifested an entire change in conduct and feeling. He seemed humble, submissive, and penitent. After some months, the governor of the state was petitioned, and the prisoner was released. He had now become a new man; he removed to a distant part of the country; joined the church, and is now an honest man, and a devoted Christian.-Influence of Religious Parents.

BAD COMPANY.

WHEN I was a little boy, about nine or ten years old, I was one day with my father in the apple orchard, for the purpose of shooting the mischievous jays which pecked the apples and corn. Presently, one of these mischievous birds perched in an apple-tree near, at which my father levelled his gun and fired. Something was seen to fall from the tree; whereupon I ran forward, expecting to find the jay; but was surprised to find, instead of the jay, a couple of innocent young mocking-birds. The jay had escaped. I took them to my father, who surveyed them with a mournful look for several moments, and then, throwing them down, observed, “That's what you get for being in bad company.”

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The incident and remark were fixed upon my mind from that moment, and they have been of much use to me many times since. And when I have seen other persons suffer for being found among wicked and mischievous persons, (and this I have seen many times,) I have said in my heart, That what you get for being in bad company." I have know school-boys to get whipped for being in bad company I have known men to get beaten for being in the company of drunkards. And I have known others to be involved in troublesome, vexatious, and expensive law-suits, by being associated with dishonest men. It is next to impossible, perhaps, for us to escape without injury, in some way, if we choose wicked people for our companions; for the Bible testifies that "evil communications corrupt good Lanners."-Youth's Cabinet Ann.

SOLEMN THOUGHTS.

I LIVE to-day. I am active amid the busy scenes of earth. But, for every act, for every step, for every thought indulged, I shall be held accountable at the great and last tribunal. All the scenes of my life will there be brought to view. No portion of it can be hidden from myself, or from the all-scrutinizing Judge. I cannot escape from Him who sits upon the awful Throne. I may call for the rocks and the mountains to bury me in the profound abyss, but all to no purpose. I must stand forth as I am. That mis-spent day comes up-that lost hour stares me in the face-that wrong deed rises, as a swift witness against me. Solemn thought! With what circumspection should I live. How much I need the grace of God to enable me to spend life aright. God grant that I may have that in possession which will stand the test when this world shall be on fire, and the elements melt with fervent heat. O fellow-sinner, think of the judgment, and remember that the very earth upon which you tread is "reserved unto fire against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men."-Christian Messenger.

DID CHRIST DIE FOR ME?

A LITTLE child sat quietly upon its mother's l Its P. soft blue eyes were looking earnestly into the face that was beaming with love and tenderness for the cherished darling. The maternal lips were busy with a story. The tones of the voice were low and serious, for the tale was one of mingled sadness and joy. Sometimes they scarely rose above a whisper, but the listening babe caught every sound. The crimson deepened on its little cheek, as the story went on increasing in interest. Tears gathered in its earnest eyes, and a low sob broke the stillness as its mother concluded. A moment and the ruby lips parted,