look at the map, it will help you to understand about the river, for you recollect that Bartica Grove is just at the mouth of the river Essequibo, that is where it runs into the sea and mixes with it, so that of course the tide comes in and goes out at Bartica. "But what makes the tide ?” the Indian boys would have been sure to have asked you; try if you can tell.

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There was an amusing circumstance happened at one of these lessons. A new schoolmaster arrived from Georgetown, for Mr Bernau to try whether he was qualified to assist him; he stood by listening while Mr Bernau was examining the boys, to see what they remembered about the last lesson, which was on thunder and lightning. Among other questions he asked,- Is there such a thing as a thunderbolt ?" The answer was "No." Upon this the new master cried out, To be sure there is, for I have seen it with my own eyes." The children burst out laughing, which made him very angry; he declared that his mother had scraped the stone of the thunderbolt, and given it to him, and it had cured him of fits. This made the boys laugh still more, and Mr Bernau had some difficulty in restoring quiet. Of course he was sorry to see the master's feelings hurt, but he had brought it on himself by his rudeness in interrupting the lesson. One of the boys was then asked to prove that no such thing as a thunderbolt came from the clouds.

He an

swered-"You told us, sir, that when men or beasts have been struck by lightning, that part of their bodies looked singed, and sometimes had blue specks on them, but that they never looked bruised as they would if they had been hit by a stone." A day or two after this, the ignorant master came to Mr Bernau, and complained bitterly of the boys, requesting him to punish them; for," said he, "they find a thunderbolt everywhere, and try to make a fool of me.' ." Mr Bernau told him he was very sorry for their naughty behaviour, but thought he had better return. to Georgetown, as le feared he would never gain their respect.

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You have been told before that the Indians are very lazy; nothing but hunger will stir them up to exertion. Mr Bernau tried to cure the children of this fault, by teaching them different kinds of games, which made them more brisk and lively. Then he encouraged them to manufacture small articles, and the one who succeeded best got a prize. They also assisted him to make a fisipond, and a wharf or pier for boats to land. You may be sure they were proud enough of their achievements, and used often to astonish their friends with their new knowledge of the use of levers, pulleys, and such things.

The girls were instructed in needlework, cooking, and other household matters, besides their school lessons.

but if you gave your money from pride, it would not be pleasing to God, whereas the smallest offering is acceptable when given from love to Christ. But what can I do, you ask? I do not know exactly what you can do, but where there is a will there is a way. If in your heart you are anxious to serve Christ, you will find ways and means to do it. Nothing is so ingenious as a warm heart, as the following anecdote will show you:

Some time ago there was a lighthouse erected on the coast of Cornwall, for the purpose of protecting ships from a shoal of dangerous rocks which stretched from the lighthouse to the shore. In this lived the keeper with his wife and one little girl, their only child. The mother was a pious woman, who would often teach her little daughter, of Christ's love to dying sinners. She became very ill, and died when her daughter was still but a child; but before her departure she called little Mary to her bedside, and taking her old family Bible which she had read for so many years, gave it to her, and bade her never forget it, for it would be a light to her feet and a lamp to her path all through life. You may imagine how poor Mary wept as she received this gift from her dear mother; and how often, after she was gone, she sat down to read the book her mother loved so well; but it is of another matter I am going to tell you.

The keeper had occasion to go on shore one day for provisions, leaving his little daughter alone in the lighthouse. Before his departure he

trimmed all the lamps, poured in fresh oil, and made everything ready for lighting them on his return. I told you that there was a reef of rocks reaching from the lighthouse to the shore; this was quite bare at low water, so that it was easy for the keeper to walk dryshod to land. In those days there were round most of the shores of this country bands of men called wreckers, because they lived by the plunder of vessels which had been wrecked on the shores. Cruel, heartless men! When they saw the clouds gathering in the sky, and heard the wind roaring before a storm, they would climb to some hill-top to see if any vessels were in sight; and when the storm burst, and the waves ran mountain high, and every one was pitying the poor seamen exposed to the tempest, they rejoiced, and hurried down to the beach-not to save the lives of the brave sailors, not to snatch their property from destruction-but to rob and plunder.

Some of these men had been on the shore, and saw the keeper leave the lighthouse; they knew that if they could only detain him till after dark, the lamps would not be lighted, and the ships that were sailing past, being deprived of the beacon would run foul of the rocks, and then they should have a harvest of spoil. When he stepped on shore they surrounded him, bound him, and laid him down on the ground to await the return of morning; and then, with excited hopes, waited for the first vessel which should be dashed to pieces on the rocks.

In the meantime, little Mary was

busying herself about the house, making every nook and corner as tidy as hands could make it; and then putting the kettle on the fire to be ready on her father's return, she sat down awhile to her sewing. Hour passed after hour, and still her father did not return. She went out to the parapet, and was alarmed at beholding the tide beginning to flow. She strained her eyes to the beach, but could not perceive her father. The waves began now to break on the rocks; in a little while they were sweeping over them, and as she watched, one jagged point after another disappeared, till the sea stood many feet deep over the reef. Then Mary burst into tears. She thought of her father. What could have happened to him! She thought of herself left all alone through the dark dreary night in the middle of the ocean; and then, as a wave dashed heavily against the lighthouse, and drove the spray about her, she thought of the lamps, and how, if they were not lighted, ships would be lost and sailors drowned. Thinking of this she ran into the house, and first praying that God would protect her, she got a match, and dragging a table close to the wall she mounted it, and attempted to light them, but found herself a long way from reaching them. She then took a chair, and setting it on the table, found she was now within two or three

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inches of the wick of the lamp; but stretch her little arms as she would, it was impossible to touch it. Dismounting, her eye caught the old family Bible. Would not this do? But how could she stand on the Bible-her mother's Bible? But then was it not to save life? She hesitated no more, but carried it to the chair, and then touched one wick after another till the whole were in a blaze.

The keeper was still lying on the beach, and watching the darkening night with a troubled heart. What would become of those gallant vessels that sailed along, confident in the warning of danger which he ought to give them? The wreckers are congratulating themselves of enriching their families with that night's spoil, when lo! first one and then another lamp streams its bright radiance over the dark sea. The keeper shouted for joy; and the wreckers unbinding their victim, retired discomfited by the courage and perseverance of one little girl. And what was it that moved her to such perseverance and ingenuity? A warm heart; she was thoroughly in earnest. Who will be less earnest, less ingenious or persevering to save perishing souls from everlasting death, by lighting the lamp of God's holy Word in every dark country where sin and idolatry rule?

Grove, and then you will see how well Mr Bernau's labours were rewarded,

and how greatly God blessed his instructions. These stories, and the greater part of what I have already told you, are taken from an account of the Mission written by Mr Bernau himself.

Do you remember the story of Aramosy in the third chapter? One of his boys was in Mr Bernau's school, and almost from the commencement he appeared to be influenced by the grace of God. He soon learned to read, and loved to study the Bible. At length he fell sick, and his father was afraid he would die. He had already lost four children, and this boy was the only one left. And what do you think the father did to cure his son? Without saying a word to any one at the Grove, he carried him off into the woods that a conjuror might charm away the disease. The first thing this man did was to offer a sacrifice to the evil spirit; then he ordered the boy to cover his face and lie still in his hammock, and on no account to look at what he was doing. The conjuror held in his hand a calabash, which is the shell of a large kind of fruit; this calabash was filled with pebbles; he shook it and made a rattling noise; he called on the evil spirit to appear, he howled, he grumbled, he whistled, he imitated all the various noises in creation, which, in the stillness of the night, and in the dark forest, sounded truly awful. The poor boy was obliged to bear all this, and though he knew that the conjuror's tricks could do him neither good nor harm, yet he could not help feeling a kind of horror steal over him.

In the meantime, the missionary had given the boys a holiday to seek for their missing schoolfellow. As soon as they found him, Mr Bernau went to him; "I am wretched, I am miserable," said the boy; Oh, take me back with you." I cannot," replied the missionary, "without your father's consent." However, Aramosy loved his child too well to keep him in misery, and the next day he brought him back to the school. When Mr Bernau visited him, he said to him, My child, where is your hope, for I think you will not be much longer in this lower world?" He replied, "You have often told us in school that Jesus Christ shed his blood for sinners, and that He invited children to come to Him; I have come to Him." A few days after he said, "I think that this will be my last day; but I believe Jesus Christ has forgiven my sins." His father came to see him, and he said to him, Father, God gave you five children, and he has taken them away one after the other; I am the last. I fear that if I had grown up, you would not have given me up to God. You do not care for what the missionary says; and when he begs you to come and settle near him that you may learn of Jesus, you say, "Wait a little.' Oh, Father! I fear the time will never come." The boy was right, the “ convenient season' never did come, for he continued in his old, evil ways, and died in the woods not long after. He seemed much moved now by the address of his dying child. When he had left the room, the boy said he hoped he had not done wrong in speaking so to