like the angels, and they are so happy at being there that they sing for joy."

"How nice!" said Nellie, her poor wan face showing the interest she felt in this new discovery. "I'm sure I'd never be tired of singing to God if he'd show me how. But, Kitty, do you think I could go to heaven, as I'm so crooked? I'm afraid God wouldn't like me for an angel, because you know he has not made me straight."

"Well, I don't know about that," replied Kitty. "Teacher said you could; but may be she didn't know you were crooked. I know she called the angels beautiful, and I'm sure you're not beautiful, Nellie."

"No," said poor Nellie, the light fading out of her pale face. "But I wish I was an angel; I wish God would ask me to be one."

"I tell you what, Nellie; you come to school next Sunday along with me, and then we'll ask teacher no end of questions."

66

I wish I could," said the eager child; "but I know father wouldn't let me."

“Oh, never mind your father," rejoined Kitty, not commendably; "slip out without him knowing, and I'll meet you at the top of the court."

"Well, I'll try, Kitty; may be he'll be asleep with the drink, and then I'll come."

True to her promise, the following Sunday afternoon Nellie (her father being asleep on a heap of straw in the corner of the room) ran off to meet her friend, whom she found waiting for her at the appointed place, and repeating over and over to each other their newly-found hymn, walked quickly to the Sunday school.

Eagerly Nellie listened to all the teacher said, and heard with wonder of a Saviour's love in dying for poor sinners like herself. Never before had she thought anyone cared for her, or that she was good for anything but to work in the factory; now she was told that Jesus loved her and had room in heaven for her, if she loved him and tried to please him.

"Please, ma'am," she said, with a flushed and excited face, can I ever be an angel? am I beautiful enough? Oh I wish I was! I'd like to be; I'd love God so much if he'd let me."

"Yes, dear child," replied the teacher, "everything is beautiful in God's sight that has no sin in it; and if you ask God to pardon all your sins he will do it because Jesus died for you, and then you will be fit to be as an angel in heaven." "Oh I wish God would ask me to come there to-night! I'd be so happy then."

"You must be patient, Nellie; perhaps God has some thing for you to do for him here before he wants you in heaven. You must always remember to try and do what is right, and what you think God would like you to do. He tells us we must keep the sabbath-day holy.' It is his day, and he is angry with those who take it for their own pleasure. Never be afraid, my child, to do what you know will please God; and he will bless you and be always ready to help you. Will you try and do this, Nellie ?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'll try, if God will let me live in heaven." "Try and come to see me again next Sunday, Nellie, and we will talk more about God and the angels."

Joyfully Nellie retraced her steps homewards, determined to tell her mother all about the angels, and try to get her to wish to be one too. She would like her mother to be as happy as she was. Upon opening the door of their miserable room she was accosted by her father, who in harsh and angry tones (for he was not yet quite sober) asked her where she had been, and desired her to take a jug and fetch him some beer.

"Oh, father," she said, "I can't get you any beer to day, because God wouldn't like me to; and if I don't please him I can't be an angel in heaven."

"Who cares about your being an angel, you little crooked thing? Go and get the beer directly, or you shall have a good beating," replied the father, his fury roused by the mild refusal of his ill-treated child.

"Not to-day, father, please; please do not beat me, but I can't get beer to-day, 'tis Sunday."

Mad with passion the man started from his chair, and before poor Nellie could get out of his reach, she received a blow that felled her to the ground.

Partially roused to the consciousness of what he had done, the wretched man darted from the room, to drown in the intoxicating cup all recollection of his savage cruelty.

Nellie remained for some time in a state of insensibility upon the floor, until at last the cries and entreaties of her mother that she would open her eyes and speak to her again, seemed to bring her back to life.

"Oh, mother," she said, "I thought I was an angel; am I come back to you again?"

"Yes, my child, you're better now; try and get up from the ground, and I'll give you some tea."

"No, mother, I'll stay here, my head hurts me so."

All that night, the mother watched beside her child, whom fever and delirium had again rendered unconscious, and whose incoherent murmurings of angels before God in heaven filled her mother's anxious heart with wonder and surprise.

Towards morning the fever subsided, and fixing her heavy eyes upon her mother's face, Nellie repeated with much effort the words that had formed the burden of her rambling thoughts:

"I want to be an angel,

And with the angels stand,
A crown upon my forehead,

And a harp within my hand."

"Mother, yesterday I wished I was an angel in heaven, and now God has sent for me to go there; good-bye, mother. Tell father I forgive him, and, oh, ask him to come with you to see me in heaven."

"My child, my Nellie, stay with your poor mother a little longer," cried the sorrow-stricken woman.

"I can't, mother," she said. "The angels are coming for me, I hear their music. Good-bye."

And, without a struggle, the happy spirit, freed from the deformed and suffering body, was in the presence of its Saviour, ready to join its praises with the countless multitude around the throne.

Happy Nellie! her wish was granted; by simple faith in a Saviour's love the Holy Spirit had made her fit for the kingdom of God. And, reader, if you too would be

66 an angel,

And with the angels stand,"

give your heart and life to Him who loved you so as to die

for you.

"Come to the Saviour! oh come in the morning!

Give unto Jesus the dew of your youth;'

While bright o'er your pathway, with beauty adorning,
Gleam the glad beams of glory, the sun of God's truth.
"Come now to the Saviour! Oh then, in the even,
The bright angel guard will come from above;
So gently they'll bear you to yonder bright heaven,
Where Jesus will welcome the lambs of his love."

B

The Contrast.

UFFON, the naturalist, ridiculed the idea of man's immortality. His wisdom and learning did not relieve the dark and gloomy obscurity which

surrounded his mind in reference to his future existence. His highest hope was, that his books would perpetuate his memory among men. He said, "Religion would be valuable, if the immortality of the soul were true." He was skilled in understanding the wonders and wisdom of God's creation; he admired the intellectual powers of man; but atheism chilled his existence, and he had no hope beyond the grave.

GIBBON, the historian, spurned the truths of the Christian religion, and contemptuously ridiculed the word of God. He sought occasion to jest with the truths of the Bible, and

traduce the character and teachings of Jesus Christ. His malignancy and hatred to the religion of the Bible were introduced into all he wrote and all he said; his life was soured and made cheerless by his living hatred to the pure principles of the gospel. His biographers say, "He left the world in gloomy despondency, without the hopes and consolations which cheer the Christian in the prospect of immortality."

HUME, celebrated for his learning and ability, was not less so for his hatred to God's revealed will and salvation through Jesus Christ. His life was spent in traducing the entire word of God, and in inventing a system of philosophy which would crush every hope and prospect beyond the grave. In his last moments he endeavoured to be gay and cheerful in jokes and witticisms with those around him. But the intervals were filled up with melancholy sadness and despair. He wrote, "I am affrighted and confounded with the forlorn solitude in which I am placed by my philosophy. When I turn my eye inward, I find nothing but doubt and ignorance. Where am I, and what? I begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, environed in the deepest darkness."

DIDEROT, a philosopher and writer against the Christian religion, spent much of his life in being deceived, and in deceiving others. He said, "I am an atheist, and glory in it." He was bold, proud, and defiant in respect to religion while in health; but when attacked by disease, and death stood before him, his philosophy and arrogance could not stand the test. When God called for him, he was afraid to enter the coming eternity. Remorse for his past life of blasphemy preyed upon him, and he would fain have found consolation in the religion of Jesus.

The above is but the common history of infidel men. Voltaire, Mirabeau, Condorcet, and many others, are evidences, that without the blessed hope found alone in the Christian religion, there is no peace nor comfort to the soul, no glorious hope of a blissful immortality.