"Yes, dear. And to separate them just now-how would you like to have me carried off, and put into another house, leaving nothing at home but your mothe. to watch over you and the rest of my little birds?'

"The child grew more thoughtful. She looked up into her father's face, and appeared as if more than half disposed to ask a question which might be a little out of place; [very likely!] but she forbore, and after musing a few moments, went back to the original subject. But, father, what can be the matter with the poor thing you see how she keeps flying about, and the little ones trying to follow her, and tumbling upon their noses, and toddling about as if they were tipsy, and couldn't see straight.' "I am afraid she is getting discontented.'

"Discontented! How can that be, father? Hasn't she her little ones about her, and everything on earth she can wish? and then, you know, she never used to be so before.'

"When her mate was with her, perhaps.'

"Yes, father; and yet, now I think of it, the moment these little witches began to peep-peep, and tumble about so funny, the father and mother began to fly about in the cage, as if they were crazy. What can be the reason? The water, you see, is cool and clear; the sand bright; they are out in the open air, with all the green leaves blowing about them; their cage has been scoured with soap and sand [an exact counterpart to the cleanliness of a slave-sty,] the fountain filled; and the seed-box-and-and-I declare I cannot think what ails them.'

"My love, may it not be the very things you speak of? Things which you think ought to make them happy, are the very cause of all their trouble, you see. The father and mother are separated. How can they teach their young to fly in that cage? How teach them to provide for themselves?'

"But father, dear father!' laying her little hand on the spring of the cage-door, ' dear father! would you?'

And why not, my dear child?' and the father's eyes filled with tears, and he stooped down and kissed the bright face upturned to his, and glowing as if illuminated with inward sunshine. Why not?'

"I was only thinking, father, if I should let them out, who will feed them ?'

"Who feeds the young ravens, dear? Who feeds the ten thousand little birds that are flying about us now?'

"True, father; but they have never been imprisoned, you know, and have already learned to take care of themselves.'

"The father looked up and smiled. Worthy of profound consideration, my dear; admit your plea ; but have a care lest you overrate the danger and the difficulty in your unwillingness to part with your beautiful little birds.'

"Father!' and the little hand pressed upon the spring, and the door flew open-wide open.

"Stay, my child! What you do, must be done thoughtfully, conscientiously, so that you may be satisfied with yourself hereafter, and allow me to hear all your objections.'

"I was thinking, father, about the cold rains, and the long winters, and how the poor little birds that have been so long confined would never be able to find a place to sleep in, or water to wash in, or seeds for their little ones.'

"In our climate, my love, the winters are very short; and the rainy season itself does not drive the birds away; and then, you know, birds always follow the sun; if our climate is too cold for them, they have only to go farther south. But in a word, my love, you are to DO AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY. As you would not like to have me separated from your mother and you -as you would not like to be imprisoned for life, though your cage were crammed with loaf-sugar and sponge-cake-as you———'

"That'll do father! that's enough! Brother Bobby! hither Bobby! bring the little cage with you; there's a dear!'

"Brother Bobby sang out in reply; and after a moment or two of anxious inquiry, appeared at the window with a little cage. The prison doors were opened: the father bird escaped; the mother bird immediately followed with a cry of joy; and then came back and tolled her little ones forth among the bright green leaves. The children clapped their hands in an ecstacy, and the father fell upon their necks and kissed them; and the mother, who sat by, sobbed over them both for a whole hour, as if her heart would break; and told her neighbours with tears in her eyes. [Exquisitely tender-hearted slave-holders!]

"The ungrateful creature! What! after all that we have done for her; giving her the best room that we could spare; feeding her from our own table; clothing her from our own wardrobe; giving her the handsomest and shrewdest fellow for a husband within twenty miles of us; allowing them to live together till a child is born; and now, because we have thought proper to send him away for a while, where he may earn his keep-now, forsooth, we are to find my lady discontented with her situation!' [Just the way that female slaves are treated, as those know who have read the memoir of Frederick Douglass.] "Dear father!'

Hush, child! Ay, discontented-that's the word-actually dissatisfied with her condition, with the best of everything to make her happy-comforts and luxuries she could never dream of obtaining if she were free to-morrow-and always contented; never presuming to be discontented till now.' [Bless her long suffering patience, then!]

"And what does she complain of, father?'

66 6 Why, my dear child, the unreasonable thing complains just because we have sent her husband away to the other plantation for a few months; he was idle here, and might have grown discontented, too, if we had not picked him off. And then, instead of being happier, and more thankful-more thankful to her heavenly Father, for the gift of a man-child, Martha tells me that she found her crying over it, calling it a little slave, and wished the Lord would take it away from her-the ungrateful thing! when the death of that child would be two hundred dollars out of my pocket-every cent of it!' [True Transatlantic pathos !]

"After all we have done for her too!' sighed the mother. "'I declare I have no patience with her!' continued the father. "Father-dear father!'

“‹ Be quiet, Moggy? don't teaze me now.'

"But, father!' and, as she spoke, the child ran up to her father and drew him to the window, and threw back her sunshiny tresses, and looked up into his eyes with the face of an angel, and pointed to the cage as it still hung at the window, with the door wide open.

"The father understood her, and colored to the eyes; and then, as if half ashamed of the weakness, bent over and kissed

her forehead — smoothed down her silky hair—and told her she was a child now, and must not talk about such matters till she older.

had grown

“Why not, father?'

"Why not? Why, bless your little heart! suppose I were silly enough to open my doors and turn her adrift, with her child at her breast, what would become of her? Who would take care of her? who feed her?'

“Who feeds the ravens, father? Who takes care of all the white mothers, and all the white babes we see?'

“Yes, child—but then-I know what you are thinking of; but then-there's a mighty difference, let me tell you, between a slave mother and a white mother-between a slave child and a white child.'

"Yes, father.' [Then there can be no doubt that in God's sight, a white child is vastly better than a black one?]

"Don't interrupt me. You drive everything out of my head. What was I going to say? Oh! ah! that in our long winters and cold rains, these poor things who have been brought up in our houses, and who know nothing about the anxieties of life, and have never learned to take care of themselves-and-a'—— “Yes, father; but couldn't they follow the sun, too? or yo farther south? [Quite a child's rejoinder.]

“And why not be happy here?'

"But, father-dear father! How can they teach their little ones to fly in a cage?' [Rather shrewd for a child who just before thought sponge-cake and a pretty cage all a bird could want.] “Child, you are getting troublesome!'

"And how teach their young to provide for themselves, father?' [Shrewd again.]

"Put the little thing to bed, directly; do you hear?'

"Good night, father! Good night, mother! DO AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY.'

ANECDOTES OF REV. R. HALL.

A YOUNG preacher, on a visit at Hall's, spent a whole day in frequent sighing, and ever and anon begging pardon, excusing himself at the same time by asserting that these apparently unpolite suspirations were all occasioned by grief that he had so very hard a heart. Hall bore with him all the first day, but when the

same lamentation was expressed next morning at breakfast, the great man lost patience. "Why, sir," said he, "don't be cast down; remember the compensating principle, and be thankful and still." " 'Compensating principle !" exclaimed the young man ; "what can compensate for a hard heart?” “Why, a soft head to be sure," answered Hall; and so the matter closed.He had one day (says a writer who knew him) attended a church where a young minister preached on some public occasion. It happened that the preacher met Mr. Hall afterwards at dinner, at the house of a mutual friend. The young man was very anxious to hear Mr. Hall's opinion of his discourse, and very pertinaciously plied the great man with questions respecting it. Hall endured the annoyance some time with great patience. He did not wish to hurt the young man's feelings, but he could not conscientiously laud his sermon. At length, worried beyond endurance, he said, "Well, sir, there was one fine passage, and I liked it much, sir-much." The young divine rubbed his hands in high glee, and pressed Mr. Hall to name it. "Why, sir," replied Hall," the passage I allude to, was your passage from the pulpit to the vestry."-Hogg's Weekly Instructor.

Enquiries and Correspondence.

The Angel in the Furnace.

SIR,-Will you have the goodness to inform me through the medium of your valuable magazine, How it was that Nebuchadnezzar, being a heathen and an idolater, could know anything of the "form of the Son of God," as mentioned in Daniel iii. 25.

I am, very respectfully,

ANNIE TERESA.

The term "Son of God" is variously employed in Scripture. Sometimes it is restricted in its meaning to the Messiah, and at others applies to some particular angel, to angels generally, or other superior intelligences, and even to good men. That Nebuchadnezzar used it only in an inferior sense, is evident from verse 28, where he calls the same being, God's angel or messenger; unless we may understand, that the repeated angel-visits made in