to think that he is actually given at this time to the prayers of his son.

And now, having woven my web to a considerable length, I must shortly cut it from the loom; although I trust that the curious grotesque forms, and the various figures of dusky brown, of gold, and of ethereal blue, which I have wrought into its texture, may have prevented the eye from wearying as it was unfolded before it; yet I am now compelled to bring it to a conclusion; and, having represented one more scene with my magic shuttle, to cut it short, and leave it to some other hand who may hereafter know more of the persons whose histories I have hitherto traced, to renew the woof, and add the warp, and tell how the Christian rejoiced in life, and triumphed in death.

The last scene I have to describe is that which took place at Merut, in the chapel belonging to the European gentleman, at the period of the baptism of Mockdoom and his grandson. It was an affecting sight, and many came to see it; but as those who had sung the praises of Almighty God on occasion of the baptism of Munghool Doss were engaged at that time in the wars of the Dhoon, from which many never returned, it depended on the little children of the master and a few poor Christian natives to raise the song of triumph; and if their feeble voices could not be heard beyond the green alleys of the surrounding garden, it matters little, for it is well known that the hymn was re-echoed in heaven, and resounded through all the mansions of the blessed.

The lady and the master, with their little ones, are no longer in India; the servants who occupied the compound are separated, some having found other masters, and others being left without friend or home; and the little chapel from which the song of Zion first resounded in that strange land is fallen to decay; yet the door which was then first opened can never be closed, and the memory of the master, and of others who first brought the Word of Life into the province of Delhi, is still held dear by the many humble Christians who now form a flourishing church in the place where so lately the name of Christ was scarcely known, or where it was only held up as an object of mockery and derision.

END OF ARZOOMUND.

THE

BIRTH-DAY PRESENT.

INTRODUCTION

ΤΟ

THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

LITTLE EMILY'S birthday was on the 21st of February; and, as she could not go out to play, because it did not happen in the summer, like those of her brothers and sisters, her mother always made it a rule, in order to make the season pleasant, to present her with a new book on the occasion.

On that happy morning in which little Emily concluded her tenth year, when she first awoke she found on her pillow a charming little volume, bound in red morocco, and marked on the back with the following title, viz. "THE LOSS OF THE DOVES."

If any little girl of the age of Emily should hereafter take up the small volume which I have written, and read till she comes to the title above-mentioned, viz. "The Loss of the Doves," I have little doubt that she will be as anxious as Emily was to know what was the history of the loss of the Doves, and whether they were ever found again; and though it is a fairy tale, I will venture to say that no mother will object to it on that account, when she is apprized that this little story is intended to convey, under a figurative veil, a certain truth of vital importance, which cannot be too deeply impresesd on the minds of young people.