-the labours which we scorned and made our jest. It is the only thing which the waters will not destroy. I feel it, even as though I had myself beheld the issue. They will bear it up on their bosom, until this deluge shall subside."

"And we?" asked Karen, awe-stricken and trembling.

"We shall soon be with our fathers. Lo! all other points of land have been swallowed up, and we stand alone beneath the sky. Even now the waters are creeping up, and a few feet only divide us from them. Another hour, and they rise above us.

The hour passed, and the flood had swept them from the rock into its unfathomed depths. When the sun at length went down, his last rays fell on a sea without a shore-the dark speck floating alone on the immeasurable expanse of waters.

(From "Sundays at Encombe,”. a volume full of pure Scriptural tales, told in a familiar yet singularly striking style. -ED. S. R.)

THE HILLS OF HELP.

REV. GEORGE ASPINALL, D.D.

"I will lift my eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help."-PSALM CXXI. 1.

I STAND within the humble vale,
And mark, uprising high,
The everlasting mountains lift
Their summits to the sky!

In vain the riving tempests blow;
They roar, but can't assail,
For shelter'd by the hills are all
The tenants of the vale!

And here the lilies lift aloft
Their stems of tender hue,
While cattle graze

in peace

Heaven's canopy of blue!

beneath

Here, too, the gurgling of the stream
Makes music to the ear,

And modest daisies, pied with pink,
In early spring appear:

While sense of safety, passing speech,
Each heart and instinct fills,
Befitting those protected by

The Lord's stupendous hills!

And even so, Jehovah's strength,
Abiding aye the same,
Hill-like, defends the meek of soul
Who call upon His name!

Yea, all who in the lowly vale
Of truth and trust are found,
Shall feel the mountains of God's Help
Supporting them around!

(Copyright-contributed.)

HUMAN PROGRESS.

CHARLES SWAIN.

WE are told to look through Nature
Upward unto Nature's God;
We are told there is a Scripture
Written on the meanest sod;
That the simplest flower created
Is a key to hidden things;
But, immortal over Nature,
Mind, the lord of Nature, springs

Through Humanity look upward,—
Alter ye the olden plan,-
Look through Man to the Creator,
Maker, Father, God of Man!
Shall imperishable spirit

Yield to perishable clay?

No, sublime o'er Alpine mountains,
Soars, the Mind, its heavenward way!

Deeper than the vast Atlantic

Rolls the tide of human thought;
Farther speeds that mental ocean
Than the world of waves e'er sought!
Mind, sublime in its own essence,
Its sublimity can lend

To the rocks, and mounts, and torrents,
And, at will, their features bend!

Some within the humblest flower et

"Thoughts too deep for tears can see;

Oh, the humblest man existing

Is a sadder theme to me!
Thus I take the mightier labour
Of the great Almighty hand;
And through man to the Creator
Upward look, and weeping stand.

Thus I take the mightier labour,
Crowning glory of His will;
And believe that in the meanest
Lives a spark of Godhead still:
Something that, by Truth expanded,
Might be fostered into worth;

Something struggling through the darkness,
Owning an immortal birth!

From the genesis of being
Unto this imperfect day,

Hath Humanity held onward

Praying God to aid its way!

And Man's progress had been swifter
Had he never turned aside
To the worship of a symbol,
Not the spirit signified!

And Man's progress had been higher
Had he owned his brother man,
Left his narrow, selfish circle,

For a world-embracing plan!
There are some for ever craving,
Ever discontent with place,
In the eternal would find briefness,
In the infinite want space.

If through man unto his Maker

We the source of truth would find,
It must be thro' man enlightened—
Educated, raised, refined:

That which the Divine hath fashioned,
Ignorance hath oft effaced;
Never may we see God's image
In man darken'd-man debased!

Something yield to Recreation,
Something to Improvement give;
There's a Spiritual kingdom

Where the Spirit hopes to live!
There's a mental world of grandeur,
Which the mind aspires to know;

Founts of everlasting beauty

That, for those who seek them, flow !

Shores where Genius breathes immortal;
Where the very winds convey
Glorious thoughts of Education,
Holding universal sway!

Glorious hopes of Human Freedom,

Freedom of the noblest kind; That which springs from Cultivation, Cheers, and elevates the mind!

Let us hope for Better Prospects,-
Strong to struggle for the right,
We appeal to Truth, and ever
Truth's omnipotent in might;
Hasten, then, the People's progress,

Ere their last faint hope be gone;
Teach the Nations, that their interest
And the People's good ARE ONE!

(By permission of the Author.)

THE TRUTH-SPEAKER.

MISS CROMPTON.

A

In the year 1777 war was going on in America, for King George the Third wanted to make unjust laws in that land, but the people would not obey them. Governor, whose name was Griswold, found himself in danger of being seized by the King's soldiers, and took shelter in a farm-house, which was the home of a relation. While hidden there, he heard that a band of soldiers was on the road with orders to search the farm and seize him.

Griswold thought he would try to reach a small stream with deep banks on each side, where he had left a boat which the passers by could not see. In great haste he went out of the house to go through an orchard, and there found a young girl, about twelve years old, with her dog. They were watching some long pieces of linen cloth which lay around, stretched out in the sun, to bleach. Hetty was on a bank with her knitting, and near to her a pail of water, from which she sprinkled the cloth every now and then, to keep it in a damp state. She started up when a man leaped over the fence, but she soon saw it was her

cousin.

'Hetty," he said, "I shall lose my life unless I can