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Sweet is the infant's waking smile,

And sweet the old man's rest-
But middle age by no fond wile,
No soothing calm is blest.

Still in the world's hot restless gleam
She plies her weary task,
While vainly for some pleasant dream
Her wandering glances ask.

O shame upon thee, listless heart,
So sad a sigh to heave,

As if thy SAVIOUR had no part

In thoughts that make thee grieve;

As if along His lonesome way

He had not borne for thee

Sad languors through the summer day,
Storms on the wintry sea.

Youth's lightning flash of joy secure
Pass'd seldom o'er His sprite,-
A well of serious thought and pure,
Too deep for earthly light.

No spring was His-no fairy gleam-
For He by trial knew,

How cold and bare what mortals dream,
To worlds where all is true.

Then grudge not thou the anguish keen
Which makes thee like thy LoRD,
And learn to quit with eye serene
Thy youth's ideal hoard.

Thy treasured hopes and raptures high-
Unmurmuring let them go,

Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly
Which CHRIST disdain'd to know.

Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon;
The pure, calm hope be thine,.
Which brightens like the eastern moon
As day's wild lights decline.

Thus, souls, by nature pitched too high,
By sufferings plunged too low,
Meet in the Church's middle sky,
Half-way 'twixt joy and woe.

To practise there the soothing lay
That sorrow best relieves :
Thankful for all GOD takes away,

Humbled by all He gives."

"JESUS CALLED A LITTLE CHILD."

S. MATT. XVIII. 2.

THERE was weeping in the chamber,
There was mourning in the home,
Aching hearts were filled with sadness,
Hope had veiled her face of gladness,
Life by death was overcome!

Tiny feet, so lately restless,
Tiny lips, so lately pressed,

Tiny hands, like roseleaves dimpled,
Words and laughter sweetly mingled,
All-so swiftly-laid at rest!

Mid the days of pain, passed quickly,
Fear, by flattering hope beguiled,
Scarce could heed the tender warning,
Hoping on-but, ere the morning,
"JESUS called a little child!"

Called it-up from pain and sickness,
To a brighter world above,
To a higher, holier living,
Every moment rapture giving,

In the kingdom of His love.

Weeping mother, would'st thou call him,
From the brightness of that home?
Mid the ransomed crowds of Heaven,
The redeemed, and the forgiven,
He is waiting-till you come!

Little feet, no longer restless,
Now are safe within the fold;
Little hands, so often here
Clasped in lisping childish prayer,
Now upraise the harp of gold!

All the anguish of the parting
That no human heart can share,
All the blank and dreary numbness,
All the agony of dumbness,

All the strength of our despair;

These He knows, our gentle SAVIOUR,
Our Redeemer, undefiled!

And from sin and sorrow claiming,
Ere life had the power of shaming,
"JESUS called" your little child!

Lay the form you loved so dearly
'Neath the churchyard's grassy sod;
Once again you shall behold it,
Once again your arms enfold it,
Only wait-and trust in GOD!

Trust Him, lovingly and fully-
E'en to sorrow reconciled-
Oh! believe, and win the blessing
Of a faithful heart, confessing

He in love hath called your child!

E. T.

PRINCE HENRY'S DREAM.

A TALE OF THE SEA.

"It is the glory of GOD to conceal a thing; but the honour of kings is to search out a matter."-Prov. xxv. 2.

CHAPTER I.

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A FEW months ago I was attracted by the title of a book I saw a public library. "Prince Henry the Navigator," glittered in gold letters upon the red morocco. It was a large book, but as I read day after day I wished it had been larger. I began to know Prince Henry as a friend, and I resolved to make others know him too, for he is worth knowing.

Prince Henry "the Navigator" was born at Oporto (1394). Although a Portuguese, we English may claim him as a kinsman, seeing that he was nephew to our Henry IV. and great-grandson to Edward III., thus Prince Henry of Portugal was son to John I. of that country, and Queen Philippa, daughter of "old John of Gaunt, timehonoured Lancaster." While yet a youth, scarcely out of boyhood, Prince Henry rendered himself famous by great bravery in time of In these wars he met with Moors and Arabs, from whom the youthful prince delighted to learn news of foreign lands. The tawny strangers could tell him of ocean-paths yet untried, which led to the

war.

lands of coral and ivory; lands fragrant with spices, abounding in flowers and large fruits, and containing mines of ore which could be polished into brightest jewels. Thus, early in life, his imagination was fired, and he thirsted to see distant countries and to land on yet undiscovered shores.

As soon as the time arrived for the prince to ascend his father's throne, it became evident to the people that their new king delighted in nothing so much as devising plans for geographical discovery, a delight in comparison with which the splendours of royalty seemed to him as nothing. He encouraged all who desired to go forth and explore those untried ocean-paths of which he had heard in his youth.

The king, forsaking the brilliancies of the court, and leaving the duties of royalty to those he could trust, would spend hours at an observatory he had built on the barren promontory of Sagres, from whence he could gaze undisturbed across the boundless Atlantic, as he devised schemes of enterprise. John I. had during his lifetime allowed his son large sums of money to send forth ships on voyages of discovery, but it was not until the prince was king that he built that observatory where he spent the happiest hours of his life.

Prince Henry in the pursuit of discovery encountered great difficulties and was often cast down by bitter disappointments; still he persevered in following out the great thought which had taken possession of his mind. Like others who plan great enterprises, he had a band of enthusiastic followers. Yes, enthusiastic, but practical, faithful, and diligent also. These were his sailors, honest men, full of courage, and ever ready to do his bidding. Prince Henry's sailors were found on many a distant sea. Early in the fifteenth century they had discovered the Madeira Isles; a few years more (1433) and they had sailed round Cape Nun and taken possession of Cape Bojado, then thought to be "the farthest point of the earth." Prince Henry did not think such things of Cape Bojado; he was not so easily satisfied as to the "farthest end of the earth." The following year, therefore, he sent out a larger and stronger ship, which sailed 120 miles beyond Cape Bojado.

Since the death of the good king John, his father, Prince Henry had worked in the cause of discovery wholly at his own expense; nor had any granted him even the help of sympathy and comforting words, except indeed his own trusty sailors. The people and the nobles too

had been glad enough to look at the fine strong ships, and the sunburnt sailors, and the outspread sails, but in the way of help, the rich nobles and the prosperous merchants stood aloof; in this respect Prince Henry was left alone. Year after year the people looked on with curiosity, gradually growing into deep interest, at the complete and magnificent ships sent out by their king, and watched with admiration the intrepid sailors with the flash of ambition and hope in their eyes, till at length these quiet spectators caught fire from the enthusiasm they gazed upon, and the royal navigator had the joy of hearing that the Portuguese nobles and merchants and all people who could, were about to form societies and help their king in his great enterprises. No longer then would Prince Henry have to carry on unaided the gigantic work of geographical discovery.

In those days there was said to be living far inland among the mountains of Asia a Christian king, a mysterious personage whom none among the Europeans had ever yet succeeded in seeing face to face. This was the far-famed "Prester John," a King-Arthur-like dream of Christendom in the middle ages. Prester John, it was said, ruled over a kingdom well-nigh boundless in extent, but so buried among the mountains were his territories, and so surrounded were his large dominions by fierce and savage tribes inhabiting the wild countries near, that none had yet been able to penetrate far enough to get a sight of this hidden Christian king. He was a priest, they said, as well as a king, and many stories were told of his grand generosity and his princely magnificence. European kings sent ambassadors in search of him, carrying gorgeous presents for his acceptance. Not being found in Asia, he was sought in Africa, but all in vain, for indeed how could they find one who existed only in imagination? Since the days of Prince Henry many writers have given opinions concerning Prester John, whose existence was believed in, and who was thought to be still alive as late as the year 1496. Some have regarded him as a mythical character signifying some great truth; others have declared him to be no myth, but an early emperor of Abyssinia ; others again say he was the great Llama, "who never dies,” that is, one Llama is chosen so quickly after another, that the Tartars regard their ruler as immortal. Later writers hold the opinion, or rather are inclined to hold the opinion that Prester John was no other than Toghrul Wang Khan, a contemporary and rival of the famous Gengis Khan, who was chief of the tribe of Krit Tartars, amongst whom the

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