"No, we have not; whose child is lost?"

"Mr. McPherson's."

"How old is the child?"

"About six years old. His mother sent him from home, yesterday, about two o'clock, and she has heard nothing from him since. He had a small tin pail with him to get some yeast."

It is sad to hear that a child is lost, and all the family sympathized with the anxious parents. "How badly you would feel if I was lost!"

said Eddie, and he looked sober and grieved, as he thought of the little boy about his own age, who had wandered from home, no one knew where. There was much fear that he had fallen into the river, as he had been seen on the dock.

At ten o'clock the family started for church. They met people who were searching for the child, and who asked them, as the gentleman had done at the house, "Have you seen any thing of a stray child?"

Notice was given in the churches that a boy was lost, and many a mother's heart beat quicker as she thought of her own dear little ones, and imagined one of them sleeping, perhaps, through that cold November night on the ground, or (fearful thought!) buried deep in the chill water.

After church, you could hear one and another inquiring anxiously, "Has the child been found?" But no favourable answer was received. In the afternoon, however, many hearts were gladdened by learning that he was safe. He had gone to the village, and got his pennyworth of yeast, and then, instead of returning immediately, he stopped to play with some boys. He had gone with them to a part of the village with which he was not acquainted and when he wished to go home, he did not know what direction to take. He chose a road leading him from home, and wandered at least five miles. Just before dark an old gentleman and his grandson were walking on the road, and they observed this little boy crying.

"What do you suppose he is crying about?" said the child to his grandfather.

"I don't know. Perhaps he has been sent to the grocery, and does not like to go."

They watched him and found he did not stop, but pa.s.sed on with his tin pail, crying grievously. They waited for him to come up to them, and asked him,

"What are you crying about?"

"I want to go home!"

"Where is your home?"

The boy could not tell.

"What is your name?"

"William Hudson." He did not say, as he should have done, William Hudson McPherson.

The old gentleman kindly took him by the hand, and led him to his own home. William's tears were soon dried, and he became quite contented.

It was too late to attempt to find his parents that night, as he could not tell where they lived, and the name of Hudson was not familiar to the good people who had given him shelter.

When Sabbath morning came, William was questioned again and again, till at length some clue was obtained of his father's place of residence. The horse was harnessed, and William, with lame and blistered feet, was placed in the wagon. About noon he safely reached home, and was clasped once more to his mother's heart. The father had not returned from his search, and he afterwards said, it had seemed to him that he never could go home without his child, on account of the terrible and almost frantic distress of the mother. As he approached his house, borne down with grief, he saw a wagon at the door. His heart leaped with joy, for he thought the lost one was found. He opened the door hopefully, and there, indeed, was William gathered once more with his brothers and sisters around the great cooking-stove, tears of joy flowing down the grateful mother's cheeks.

All this great grief which William's father and mother endured--all the anxiety felt throughout the town--and all the sufferings of the boy himself, were occasioned by William's stopping to play, when he ought to have gone directly home!

Children often think they are quite as capable of judging for themselves, as their parents are for them. Sooner or later this opinion will lead them into trouble. William thought it was safe to stop and see the boys play marbles, but he found, to his sorrow, that it would have been far better to have resisted temptation and denied himself the short pleasure he enjoyed.

Every human heart is grieved when a child like William strays from home. We do not wonder that his mother should be fearfully anxious in regard to his fate. But, oh! how much more bitter tears a loving mother sheds, when her dear ones stray from the path of virtue, and become disobedient and wicked! I hope none of the children who read about William will go astray from the right path, but will ever choose that which is pure and lovely and of good report, and which, through the grace of G.o.d in Christ Jesus, will safely lead them home to heaven.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE UNPLEASANT NEIGHBOUR.

Eddie's father has a disagreeable neighbour. In one way or another he is a constant source of annoyance. Sometimes his pigs will creep through the fence, and root up the smooth green lawn. His part of the fence he will not keep in repair, and the hungry cows, in search of food, will break into the garden, and make sad havoc among the cabbages and other vegetables. His fine bay horse, whom he knows will jump over any ordinary fence, is permitted to run in a pasture, where he can eke out his scanty meal by a hearty lunch among Mr. Dudley's corn. All these aggressions, and many more, have been borne with the greatest patience.

Mr. Dudley has often been advised to resort to the law as a means of defence, yet he has been reluctant to do so. The children have sometimes felt very indignant when they have been obliged to chase the pigs or the cows out of the yard or field, but their parents have endeavoured to teach them Christian forbearance.

At one time Eddie had been thinking about Mr. Morrison,--for by that name I shall call the unpleasant neighbour,--and he said very seriously to his mother,

"Mother, can Mr. Morrison go to heaven if he dies."

She hesitated a moment how to answer him, for, she had taught him that it is wicked to lie and to swear, and that if a person loves G.o.d he will not be in the habit of committing such sins; so she told him, that unless Mr. Morrison repented he could not go to heaven.

At another time Eddie and his mother were talking about G.o.d's love for the beings he has made. She told him that G.o.d loves every one.

"Does he love Mr. Morrison?" he inquired.

"Yes, G.o.d loves Mr. Morrison. He is grieved and offended by his wickedness, but he loves him. You know I love you, when you have done wrong, although I am sorry that you have been naughty. I do not cease to love you. The Bible tells us that while we were sinners, G.o.d so loved us as to send his Son to die for us. He loves all, and wishes all to repent and believe in Christ, and be happy. He has provided a way for all who believe to be saved, and it is only because people love sin more than they love holiness, that they are lost."

Nothing can give us a higher idea of G.o.d's love, than the thought that he loves every one--even his enemies. "G.o.d is love." What a blessed, glorious thought! How it encourages us to trust him at all times!

G.o.d does not willingly afflict, nor grieve, nor punish any one. All that he does, he does from the truest love.

The knowledge that G.o.d loves us should lead us to love him. We are naturally disposed to love those who love us, and always do, unless there is something repulsive about them. There can be nothing repulsive about G.o.d, for he is love, and we who love him, love him because he first loved us.

One night, after little Eddie had repeated the Lord's Prayer and his usual evening pet.i.tions, he raised his head, and said to his mother,

"Shan't I pray for Mr. Morrison, now?"

"Yes, dear, if you wish to," she answered.

He bowed his head again, and uttered a simple prayer for the man who was the occasion of so much trouble and perplexity to his father's family. He prayed that G.o.d would forgive his sins for Jesus' sake, and make him a good man. It was very pleasant to hear Eddie pray thus, and to witness his kind and forgiving spirit.

Mr. and Mrs. Dudley have often regretted that the children should have their early memories saddened by such a neighbour, but perhaps their heavenly Father wishes to teach them a lesson of forbearance and love for those who injure them, which they could not so well learn in any other way.

Our Saviour, when dying on the cross, taught us practically the duty of forgiveness. He prayed even for those who put him to death.

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Do you not suppose he was pleased to hear Eddie ask his Father in heaven to forgive Mr. Morrison and make him a good man?

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE BOY WHO KEPT HIS PURPOSE.

"I would not be so mean," said George Ward to a boy who stood by, while he put the candy he had just bought in his pocket.