ous illness of a young person has in it something peculiarly distressing. This peculiar painfulness does not arise (God forbid) from any uncertainty as to the future awaiting the child in mortal sickness. But the gentle ways of the little sufferer touch one to the quick, because we behold affliction in its most mysterious aspect-in the aspect in which the Mothers of the Holy Innocents beheld it, when they were massacred by King Herod. One is aware that now it is out of the child's power to express any particular wish for anything it may need.

Perhaps even it may not occur to so young a mind to send of its own accord for the pastor. Such considerations must certainly quicken the movements of any one summoned to attend upon a case of this kind. One feels under a special obligation to lose not a moment—even more so than when one's presence is requested for one of full age. It may be a festive season-such as Christmas or Epiphany-when such an occurrence befals one. The outer world may present a contrast to the joyous character of the period in the Ecclesiastical year.

The clergyman, perhaps, will have to wade through miry lanes,-nearly enveloped in a chilly, penetrating mist. A murmur may be almost on his lips at Nature's weeping and decking herself in mourning attire. While he is proceeding to the discharge of his melancholy, although blessed and honourable, office, he may half complain that everything appears to conspire to deny him encouragement. Let him, however, still wend his pleasantless, unenviable way. Perhaps outer things will relax their stoical sternness. On raising his looks

upwards, there is yet a chance of this. A few paces only from his place of destination, Nature, as if sorry for having so long disappointed him, may shew him kindness. His eye, as if by accident, (it is not impossible,) observes a bird occupied in carrying off for its nest a shred of straw. So simple and familiar an operation hardly, ever, perhaps, had power enough before to arrest his attention. But, when his mind is deeply affected at the thought of the descent of a storm of sorrow on a happy roof, and he is sensible that he must, as it

were, furnish himself with solace against the coming necessity, it is not wonderful that so common a process has significance, and preaches a gentle, well-timed, affecting sermon.

The sight before, and the sight awaiting, him exhibit a beautiful harmony. As the robin (who never doffs his gay, red festival dress) is mirthfully flying off with the straw for its home above the cold, damp ground, so the innocent child (sick unto death) will soon nestle in the boughs of the trees of Paradise. The little red-breast hurries away, laden