that old homestead, that had received and sheltered me in so many sorrows. Grandmother took me by the hand, and said, "My child, let us pray." We knelt down together, with my arm clasped round the faithful, loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has it been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and protection. It thrilled through my heart and inspired me with trust in God. I staggered into the street, faint in body, though strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the dear old place, though I felt that I should never see it again. [The granddaughter found friends at the North, and, being uncommonly quick in her perceptions, she soon did much to supply the deficiencies of early education. While leading a worthy, industrious life in New York, she twice very narrowly escaped becoming a victim to the infamous Fugitive Slave Law. A noble-hearted lady purchased her freedom, and thereby rescued her from further danger. She thus closes the story of her venerable ancestor: -] My grandmother lived to rejoice in the knowledge of my freedom; but not long afterward a let ter came to me with a black seal. It was from a friend at the South, who informed me that she had gone" where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest." Among the gloomy recollections of my life in bondage come tender memories of that good grandmother, like a few fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. H. J. NOTE. The above account is no fiction. The' author, who was thirty years in slavery, wrote it in an interesting book entitled "Linda." She is an esteemed friend of mine; and I introduce this portion of her story here to illustrate the power of character over circumstances. She has intense sympathy for those who are still suffering in the bondage from which she escaped. She is now devoting all her energies to the poor refugees in our camps, comforting the afflicted, nursing the sick, and teaching the children. On the 1st of January, 1863, she wrote me a letter, which began as follows: "I have lived to hear the Proclamation of Freedom for my suffering people. All my wrongs are forgiven. I am more than repaid for all I have endured. .Glory to God in the highest!" L. M. C. WE hear men often enough speak of seeing God in the stars and the flowers, but they will never be truly religious, till they learn to behold Him in each other also, where He is most easily, yet most rarely discovered. J. R. LOWELL. AULD LANG SYNE. S BY ROBERT BURNS. HOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne? CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne; We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. We twa hae ran about the braes, But we've wandered mony a weary foot, We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,† Frae morning sun till dine; • Wild daisies." ↑ Brook. But seas between us braid hae roared Sin' auld lang syne. CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne; We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, OLD FOLKS AT HOME. THEY love the places where they wandered When they were young; They love the books they 've often pondered, They love the tunes they've sung. The easy-chair, so soft and dozy, The ample slippers, warm and cozy, CHORUS. Near their hearth-stones, warm and cheery, Where, by night or day, They're free to rest when they are weary, There the old folks love to stay. L. M. C. "Let him, where and when he will, sit down WORDSWORTH. HE morning after the storm was calm and beautiful; just one of those days so dear to every lover of Nature; for every true worshipper of our allbountiful Mother is a poet at heart, though his lips may often fail to utter the rich experience of his soul. The air was full of fragrance and the songs of birds. Here and there a gentle breeze would shower down the drops of moisture from the trees, forming a mimic rain; every bush and shrub, and each separate blade of grass, glittered in the morning sunlight, as if hung with brightest jewels. The stillness was in harmony with the |