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Poetry.

THE ORPHAN BOY.

STAY, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale!
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,'
"Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.

Poor foolish child! how pleased was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.

The people's shouts were long and loud;
My mother shuddering, closed her cars;
Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd,
My mother answered with her tears.

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"Oh! why do tears steal down your cheek,"
Cried I, "while others shout for joy?"
She kiss'd me, and in accents weak,
She call'd me her poor orphan boy.
"What is an orphan boy?" I said,
When suddenly she gasp'd for breath;
And her eyes closed; I shrieked for aid,
But, ah! her eyes were closed in death!

My hardships since I will not tell;
But now no more a parent's joy-
Ah, lady! I have learnt too well,
What 'tis to be an orphan boy.
O were I by your bounty fed!--
Nay, gentle lady! do not chide!
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Lady, you weep-what is't you say?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ?
Look down, dear parents! look and see,
Your happy, happy, orphan boy.

Sent by W. J. R.

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Youths' Department.

MENTMORE TOWERS.

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THE village of Mentmore is about thirty-six miles from London by the London and North-Western Railway, and is situate in the county of Buckingham. The engraving on the first page of this number represents what is sometimes called Mentmore Towers," the seat of Baron M. A. de Rothschild, M.P., J.P. It is a very splendid mansion, built in the Anglo-Italian style, and is situated west of the village, and not far from the Cheddington railway station, commanding an extensive view of the vale of Aylesbury, the county town of Bucks. In this village there is a school for boys, girls, and infants, with residence erected and supported by Baroness de Rothschild. We judge that our readers generally will be pleased with the appearance of this noble mansion, occupied by a Jew who has risen to a very high position of dignity in highly-favoured England. And we would pray that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, may be worshipped by this honourable Baron and family in this earthly mansion, and when they shall cease to worship the God of Israel on earth, may they be removed to that world where Jesus lives, who, when He was about to return to heaven, said, for the encouragement of His disciples throughout all succeeding ages, "In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also." Mentmore mansion is destined to crumble to dust, but the mansions in heaven, occupied by the glorified ones, are imperishable; and the way to these mansions is through Christ, who says, "I am the way." W. BIRKS.

WELCOME TO JESUS.

A WORD TO THE YOUNG.

SEVERAL hundred years ago, there were many boys and girls in a beautiful city, which has since been destroyed by a great army. They were out in the streets of that city, when they heard a great noise and shouting, as if many people were rejoicing. Away they ran to see what it was all about; and as they came near to the gate of the

city, they beheld a sight indeed. Crowds of people coming into it, singing and shouting with gladness; some carrying branches of trees, and waving them in the air: and all the road was strewed with flowers, and garments were thrown down by the people, to make a sort of carpet. And then they saw in the midst of the crowd, Jesus riding on an ass, and a little playful colt by His side. What did those children do? They joined the crowd, and took branches and waved them round, shouting, with their little voices, as they heard others cry, "Hosanna! hosanna to the Son of David. Hosanna in the highest!' It is possible some of them hardly knew what they meant. But no doubt others understood the words, and those who did, meant two things: to give Jesus Christ a hearty welcome, and to wish success to His cause.

It was something like saying to Him, "Welcome, Jesus. We are glad to receive you; may God prosper your kingdom."

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Now, my dear young readers, you cannot do as those children did; but still there is something very like it that may be done. You can give Christ a welcome to your hearts. Jesus says, Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him; and will sup with him, and he with me." He knocks at the door of your hearts by His word, His ministers, His providence, and His Spirit, and seems to say, though you do not hear His voice, "Sinner, give me thine heart, and give it me now. Let me live and reign in it. Love me; obey me. I will come, and make thine heart holy and happy." Then, my dear readers, give to Him a welcome, and throw wide open the door of your hearts.

"Come in, come in, thou heavenly guest,

Nor ever hence remove:

But sup with me, and let the feast

Be everlasting love."

Go to Jesus in prayer, and say to Him, "Lord! and wilt thou dwell in my poor sinful heart? Lord! come, and rule within! Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He that cometh, in the name of the Lord." Oh, do give your little heart to God, and let the child's resolve be thine:

"I have an evil heart within,

A heart that's often prone to sin;
What can a feeble infant do,
His naughty temper to subdue ?

This will I do: when first I find
An evil thought within my mind,
I'll go to Jesus, and I'll say:

Lord, take this sinful thought away.'
Does not the name of Jesus mean,
One that has power to save from sin?
O Lamb of God, take mine away,
And give me a new heart, I pray.
A heart to love my Saviour dear,
And every day, O may I fear
To grieve His love, or to offend

So bountiful and kind a friend!"

If you do this truly, you will be happier than were those children who saw Christ riding into Jerusalem; unless, indeed, they did the same.

He will bless you while you are young, be your friend when you grow up, take care of you while you live, comfort you when you come to die, and then take you to Himself in heaven's better land.

"Did Jesus die for me?" said a little child. It sat upon its mother's lap. Its soft blue eyes were looking earnestly into her face, which was beaming with love and tenderness. The mother's lips were busy with a story. The tones of the voice were low and serious: for the tale was one of mingled sadness and joy. Sometimes they scarcely rose above a whisper, but the listening child caught every sound. The crimson deepened on its little cheek, as the story went on increasing in interest.

Tears gathered in its eyes, and a long sob broke the stillness as its mother concluded. A moment, and the lips parted, and, in tones made tremulous by eagerness, the child inquired, Did He die for me, mamma ?" Yes, my child, for you."

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May I love Him always, mamma, and dearly too?" Yes, my darling; it was to win your love, that He left His bright and beautiful home."

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And He will love me, mamma; I am sure He will, He died for me. When may I see Him in His other home ?"

"When your spirit leaves this world, my darling."

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My spirit!" murmured the child.

"Yes, your spirit; that part of you which thinks, and knows, and loves. If you love Him here, you will go to live with Him in heaven for ever."

"And I may love Him here. made me, mamma."

How glad you have

And the mother bowed her head, and prayed silently

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