sit on the chair by her side, which I did. She instantly laid her dear little hand on my lap, and that instant, without sigh or groan, entered her eternal rest.

"Now," said I, "I guess well what her fixed eyes saw, and why she smiled, till she looked almost like a little angel herselfthey surely came for her spirit-she surely saw them-her looks were not earthly, but heavenly."

"They shall walk with me in white: for they are worthy.' (Rev. iii. 4.)

PRAYING TO IMAGES.

HERE we see the images of saints hanging up. There are lamps here and there for the purpose of lighting the streets; and the

poor deluded Roman Catholics go out at night, and fall down before these images, to pray to the saints for help.

I am glad to say this is not an English picture, but one we should see in Portugal. We ought to bless God that Popery is not the main religion in our land. ́ Yet it is fast spreading. Perhaps some of you little children may live to see it again flourishing in our land. You have often heard of Popery. Do you think you can tell me the meaning of it? O! it is a very dangerous belief. It puts other things and creatures in the place of Christ. The Roman Ca

tholics pray to the Virgin Mary and to saints, and beg them to intercede for them with God. Now, the Bible says, that Jesus Christ is the door, and we must only come to God through him. Then they think, also, that good works will help people to heaven; but the Bible tells us that "all our righteousness is as filthy rags." They tell people that doing penance (which means punishing your body,) will help to atone for sins: but Scripture says" The blood of Jesus Christ alone cleanseth from all sin."

My young reader, you ought to thank God for giving you Protestant parents, and a true Bible, which you may read for yourself. But take care that you are not on the wrong road for heaven, notwithstanding all your advantages. You have been taught to pray to Jesus, but how do

MAY.

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you pray? You fall down on your knees night and morning, and mutter out a prayer, but what are you thinking about? Are you content with your lips praying, while your mind is running after your play, and worldly things? If so, you are like the poor creatures in our picture. True, you have no image of the Virgin, or a saint before you, but your heart is making play your idol, and you are only mocking God.

A poor starving man once came to a rich man's door: he was very hungry, and begged in the most earnest voice: "Please to give me a piece of bread." He did not ask carelessly, but with all his heart; for he felt he was starving.

My reader, when you pray, watch your heart: for until you feel you are dying, and on the edge of hell, you will never plead hard as a poor, starving beggar does. Pray to God to shew you your wants, and then, with tears and entreaties, you will cry"Bless me, even me also, O my Father."

EUNICE.

MARY'S GLEANINGS FOR THE SUNDAY.
SCHOOL.NO. XXVII.

ANNETTE AND HER MOTHER.

Annette. I was reading this morning a very beautiful passage in a book about the spring; and as this is the month of April, I read it with more pleasure. It said that the spring reminded us of the resurrection.

Mother. Can you remember, my dear, how spring is to remind us of the resurrection?

Annette.-I will try and repeat it to you as well as I can: "The spring is a wonder. ful time; for then all things come to life which looked to us as though they were quite dead. There is this hawthorn bush : see how the little round buds just begin to peep out of the dead-looking wood. It is wonderful to see beautiful flowers and vegetables coming out of the earth; and the resurrection of our bodies at the last day is not more wonderful-both are the work of God: and when we see spring come round every year, it makes it easy to believe that an eternal spring shall arrive, when our bodies shall spring up from the dust of the grave. God, who can bring to life the little dead-looking and hard seeds, can bring to life again our decayed bodies." So I love the spring, mother, because it reminds me of God's power and goodness-it reminds me, too, that he can make a spring within me he can take away my hard, dead, stony heart, and make me a new and living creature in Christ Jesus.

Mother. He can, my dear; and I hope he will. And whenever we see the spring come round, we will think of the resurrection; and you, my dear, may see many springs, for you are young; and may each spring find you as a growing plant, growing more and more in grace and in the know

ledge of God. What is become of that beautiful red tulip I saw blossoming in your garden last summer? It grew just by the side of your moss-rose tree.

Annette. It is withered, and has died away, so that I can see nothing of it now; but it is in the ground, and every day I expect to see it coming up again. I went this morning before breakfast to see whether it was peeping.

Mother. That tulip is like you, my dear; it has lost its bloom and has disappeared from our view, but it will spring up again when its season comes. So will you, if you live, grow old, lose your bloom, and sink into your grave: but if you are a child of God, you will rise again, clothed with immortality, and more beautiful than any tulip. This is a charming time of the year; I think I like it better than any other, it brings such sweet thoughts into my mind: we feel great delight as we walk over the fields, and smell the sweet flowers, and hear the sweet birds; but there are higher things than these to delight us, Annette.

Annette. What things?

Mother. Why, my dear, when we look upon these blades of grass, these pretty primroses and violets, unfolding themselves to the breath of spring, let us think of the millions of human creatures who shall, at the great resurrection, arise out of the earth to live in a never-ending state of being.