the sanctity of the sight entered his soul, and softened his hard and cruel heart : "There was a time,' he said, in mild, And hope and feeling, which had slept Fresh o'er him, and he wept- he wept." The peri flies swift to catch the falling tears, bears them to the gates of Paradise, whose portals are opened wide to receive the precious gift, and the peri enters as the bearer. Here childhood's faith in man and God is beautifully exhibited, and one spring of the soul's affinity with the pure and holy exposed. The memories of childhood! who has not felt their subduing power over manhood, stern manhood perhaps? Who would blot them out from the book of the past? They are the sweetest lessons of life; for they tell of trust, and purity, and blessedness. They are whispering angels, teaching us anew the truth learned of the Master,- "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall in no wise enter therein." How sweetly does a child learn the hope of heaven! How many have learned it of the child! I remember the passing away of a little child, in whom this hope was most strong. She was suddenly afflicted by a fatal sickness, which she bore with a patience marvellous for her years. Just previous to the closing of the lids that opened the eyes upon heaven, as night reveals the stars, she beckoned her mother to her side, and motioned her to hand her the little New Testament she had loved to bear to the Sabbath school. She turned to a passage, and pointed it out to her weeping mother: "Jesus said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God." When the mother turned from the sacred page to meet the eye of her dying child, she greeted a look that told the strength of the child's hope, and that seemed to say, "I am going to him, dear mother!" and her countenance brightened as when a child bids us "good day," when it departs for the pleasures of associates elsewhere. A mother, into whose heart religion entered by the door affliction opened, once said, "A mother has no child till she has lost one!" And why said she this? Because, till her babe died, she had not seen the heaven that had been opened before her so long; she had not realized the spiritual beauty and worth of her child; and, in her love of the outer form and perfection, she had forgotten that the spirit hath wings of its own, and, when unfurled, the shell of the mortal tenement crumbles and decays. When one child is lost, a sanctity is thrown around the rest of the children, or to them afterward given, that was never felt before. And when we mourn the fading of our home flowers, the pains and sorrows of innocence, the blight of sin, withering the purity of childhood, and sigh for the return of the years when there were no shadows around the heart, is not God speaking to us of the necessity of the hope of heaven? I never look on that most touching of all sights, a beautiful babe in its little coffin, robed in the snowy dress, and wearing a smile such as angels might almost envy,—I never look on such a sight without feeling my trust strengthened, that "Little children! not alone On the wide earth are ye known, But I must tear myself from my subject; for there is a witching power in the fancies connected with it, that makes me love to linger,- to follow childhood through all the various forms of its endearment and attraction at home, amid its playmates, in the garden, the field, and by the merry streams, glad and pure as the thoughts and affections of its heart. Yes, there is not a little but a vast heaven mirrored in childhood; and the more we gaze, and think, and feel, the more we recognize the spirit in the infant angel, and love the magic of its charms. O, what a power is exerted in one's home by a single child! All, from the oldest to the youngest, feel it; and God only knows how much the little one does for virtue and religion in others, ere it is conscious of an earthly relation! It has subdued many an evil thought, won the cruel heart from its dark purposes, cheated the sad from his sadness, reconciled discordant hearts by its playfulness, and made bonds of love and fidelity firm that otherwise would have been broken and scattered. Yes, yes, little children are among the sweetest of the ministering spirits around us, to win our hearts to God, purity, love, and heaven. There is no harshness in their messages or ministry; for they smile while they rebuke, and caress while they teach us. "Blessings on them! they, in me, TO A BUTTERFLY. BY MRS. C. M. SAWYER. [From the German of Herder.] LOVELY, light thing fluttering by, Now o'er fragrant blossoms sailing, Say, O say, what rosy fingers Sure some sylph thy winglets gay From the morning-mist did weave thee, Minion, now thy little heart, Fluttering here beneath my finger, Feels a death-like smart! Fly away, wee spirit, be Glad and free! Emblem art thou of my being, When, like thee, a zephyr, fleeing Go, 'mid vapor, dew and honey, |