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WANTS, “I am come into this world, that they which see not might see.”—John ix. 39.

“If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink." — John vii. 37. >GYPT is still in all our

thoughts, as English

men; and Egypt should be much in our thoughts as Christians. We need not apologise, therefore, for again gising pictures of Egyptian life a prominent place in the GLEANER. We do so this month, and we shall do 80 again, with the express object of reminding our readers that the Church Missionary Society has, for reasons explained in former numbers, re-established its old Mission at Cairo, and has opened a Special Fund for the purpose, to which are invited thank-offerings for the rapid and complete success granted to the British arms in restoring peace to Egypt.

Our pictures this month are surely most suggestive. “Egyptian women drawing water”do we not at once thiok of the woman of Samaria, and of what Jesus said to her ? “ Whosoever sball drink of this water shall thirst again ; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst ; but the water that I sball give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” Do we not see at once that what Egypt wants is a stream nobler and more beneficent than the Nile --the river of life-the living water of Divine Grace?

“Egypt: A Blind Beggar do we not think of Bartimæus and the otber blind beggars of the Gospel ?-remembering that Jesus gave them sight by a word or a touch, not merely that their bodily eyes might see, but that they might be types and figures of the spiritual sight He gives to the blind in heart and understanding. their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light”-that was St. Paul's commission when he was sent to the Gentiles, and that is what we pray the Great Healer to do in Egypt by the instrumentality of our missionaries.

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Author of " Free to Serre," " Lottie's Silver Burden," " Mother's Nell," fc.

F only I had something definite to do, I beliere I should be

much happier,” thought Sasie Ogilvie, as she stood lean-
ing her elbows on the stile before crossing it into the
peaceful little churchyard of Inglesby.

Her eyes were fixed absently on the woods beyond, forming as they did a pretty background to the grey church tower. The birds were twittering in the trees close by, and the sunlight “lay sleeping" on the many green graves and white tombstones.

It was a lovely peaceful scene, but the face of the young girl, who was looking absently at its beauty, did not correspond with it in calmness.

Sasie Ogilvie was small and slight, but the picture of strong, healthy girlhood. The light wavy hair, which however much she brushed it would not keep smooth or tidy, formed a pretty contrast to her dark eyes; but the face wore neither a very happy nor peaceful expression this summer afternoon, and dissatisfaction was plainly written there. The scene before her was very lovely, but Sasie was not thinking of its beauty. Those green graves and white tombstones had set her thinking.

Twenty-one, and yet I've done nothing,” she said within herself, as she wondered how long it would be before she should be lying side by side with her mother, who was buried in the family vault only a few steps beyond. “My life has been of no good to any one as yet, and I don't see a chance of it ever being any different, though I know Nona would scold me for saying this. I believe she is right after all, and if only I had something definite to do I should be much happier.”

Now if any one had told Sasie's friends that she sometimes felt sad and dissatisfied and unhappy, they would not have believed it. They would have said, “ Sasie unhappy! Nonsense ; she could not be anything but merry and full of fun. If she were otherwise she would not be Sasie." And certainly it was a very unusual thiog to catch her dreaming, with that sad expression in her eyes and on her face.

The love of life and all its pleasures was very strong in her, and she liked to get as much merriment and fun out of it as possible. But notwithstanding, even in the midst of her merriment, sad thoughts and longings would cross her mind, unknown to any save One, Who can read all hearts. It was the same old story-a great longing for something to do, and yet a disinclination to do the small duties of life, which lay close at hand. Sometbing great and grand was what Sasie craved to do, but eren if an opportunity had been afforded her of fulfilling her wish, I doubt if she would have had the energy and perseverance to take advantage of it. Quiet home duties Sasie felt to be utterly “against the grain.” “Besides,” reasoned the girl to herself, “Netta is fond of those kind of things, so I can't see any harm in leaving them to her, and she does not care for pleasure as I do, so what would be the use of giving it up in order to relieve her of what she really likes ? "

And yet these thoughts left an uncomfortable sensation behind as they crossed her mind. Supposing after all it was mere unselfishness on her sister's part that led her to appear as if housekeeping, entertaining visitors, and paying calls with her aunt, were a greater pleasure to her than tennis, reading, and boating, and going long country walks in search of flowers. But no. Feeling how utterly impossible it would be for her, in her present state, to practise such unselfishness in her life, Sasie could not believe it of her sister. It must be that Netta really enjoyed those duties, utterly unaccountable as the taste was to Sasie's mind.

Sasie had been spending a thoroughly idle day, and having been reprimanded for it by her aunt she had lost her temper, and gone off for a walk by herself to cool down, intending to drop in to afternoon tea with a friend before returning home.

But arrived at the stile sbe lingered ; the sight of the green graves and white tombstones had the effect of cooling her ruffled temper and of setting her thinking, while the consciousness of wasting her life, and the longing for some definite work to do, arose again in the girl's heart.

Sasie did not know how long she bad stood by that stile. She was given to dreaming, and many an hour had been passed before now in that

occupation. How long she would have stayed there I don't know, if she had not suddenly thought she heard a voice coming from a distant corner of the churchyard, which was hidden from her sight. Was it her fancy? No; there it was again. A man's voice, but trembling and weak.

Holding her breath, Sasie distinctly heard spoken in a slow, solemn, but quavering voice, the words

“Shall I offer unto the Lord my God of that which doth cost me nothing?' Aye, but dear Lord, Thou knowest my sin. I kept her. I would not give her to Thee—to Thy work. I only gave Thee that which cost me nothing-nothing."

Sasie fancied she heard a sob end the words. Quietly she climbed the stile, and there sitting on a tombstone, his head bowed in his hands, was an old man. That he was a gentleman Sasie saw at once, even though his face was hidden; and that he was old-very old—was shown, not only by his bent figure and silvery hair, but by the weak and trembling tone of voice. Was he in trouble, poor old man? Sasie made a movement towards him, but hesitated as again he broke the silence. The voice was weaker now and broken with sobą.

Lord, my Lord, Thou knowest all things, Thou knowest I love Thee now; but I couldn't have loved Thee then, or I would have let her go. O Lord, have mercy on my sin.”

Sasie's bright eyes were filled with tears. She was a girl easily influenced, very impressible and impulsive, and the sight of this poor lonely old man touched her heart. In a minute she was by his side, and had laid her little white hand on his arm.

The old man looked up suddenly with a start, and as leis eyes fell on the girl beside him his hands and lips trembled.

“I am afraid you are ill, and in trouble,” said Sasie, sorry for the moment that she had disturbed him.

“My dear!” said the old man, raising his hand to his ear, “I'm deaf, and can't hear what you say. But I'll listen to you in a minute or two when I feel better, for the sight of you has upstrung me," and burying his face again in his hands he murmured, apparently quite unconscious that he was speaking aloud

“So like her, good Lord, so like! Just the one for Thy work, and yet I would not give her to it. Just because it cost too much, Lord, too much.”

Then after a moment's pause he looked up at Sasie.

“My dear, I'm a stranger in this place, and I don't know your name, or who you are. But I know one thing,” he repeated solemnly, “ that you are a bit of sunshine, come to me straight from my God."

“What a dear queer old man,” thought Sasie to herself, as a pleased colour spread over her face.

“ I should like to know your name, my child," continued the old man. “ It does not happen to be Gracie, I suppose


? a sudden eager expression crossing his face, as he put his hand to his ear, and waited for the answer.

"No, my name is not Grace,” said Sasie, with a half pitiful smile. “I am Sara Ogilvie, but every one calls me Sasie."

“Not her name, but her voice, Lord,” murmured the old man, softly. Then, in a louder tone, “Sasie ; that is a pretty name, my dear. Tender and sweet, as a young girl's name ought to be. It is a new name to me, quite a new name."

Then suddenly bis face became eager and animated again. “My child," he said, raising his voice in his earnestness, “ tell me, do you care much about God's work among the heathen ? Are you doing what you can for those who have heard nothing of our God ? I hope you are. I think you are," with a touch of eagerness in his voice.

It was with difliculty that Sasie controlled the smile that rose to her lips. This old gentleman need not have told her that he was a stranger to Inglesby, for had he lived there he would have known better than to have asked such a question of her. Of all things in the world, Sasie thought a missionary meeting the driest and slowest. She had been to one some years ago, and not having taken the trouble to listen to the speaker, the afternoon sun streaming full into her face, she was soon asleep, and, the meeting over, left saying that nothing should induce her to go to another. But here was this queer old man waiting for an answer, with that strange eager expression on his face. What could she say to him? She felt intuitively that her answer would disappoint him, but did not know how to avoid it.

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"I'm afraid I don't care for that kind of thing," said the girl, a "Then I'll come,” said Sasie, and with a smile she tripped away, leaving faint flush spreading over her face. “I'm not very fond of meetings, old Mr. North shading his eyes with his hand as he watched her disyou see, and so I don't know much about it.”

appear. Sasie was unprepared for the effect her words produced.

“God bless her," he murmured. “A little bit of sunshine sent by God "O Lord,” he said, dropping his head in his hands again, " this into an old man's heart. She'll come and see me—she said she would. I young girl doesn't care for those perishing souls, and she who did care must make the room pretty, or she won't be happy in it, and I'll ask Mrs. for them, and loved them, and craved to help them, I would not spare, Caston to lend me her grey parrot, it will amuse the child—bless her ! ” because it cost me too much-too much, Lord.”

(To be continued.) Sasie stood by looking at him wonderingly, feeling, it must be confessed, somewhat uncomfortable. She did not like the description this old gentleman had just given of her. “This young girl does not care for

THE STORY OF THE NEW ZEALAND MISSION. those perishing souls,” he had said. How heartless it made her out to By the Author of England's Daybreak,"

;" « The Good News in be. She never thought of them, that was why she did not care for them,

Africa,fc. she reasoned with herself; but what was the use of making herself miserable about the “perishing souls” of those she could not save ?

I.-The Land and the People. There were lots of sad things and sad people in the world, whom it would

THE Church Missionary Society has strange stories to do no good for her to think about. Besides, Sasie sometimes felt rather

tell of the scenery and the history of the different uncomfortable about her own soul, so had not much time or inclination

parts of the world where its missionaries have to think about the souls of others, and yet how wretchedly hard-hearted

laboured; but both in the marvels of creation, and this old man had made her out to be.

the wonderful facts of its story in the past, few can Sasie’s lips were just beginning to pout with a sense of being misjudged, rival those that we meet with in studying the islands of New when the face, so old and worn with furrows, but refined and sweet to

Zealand. look upon, surmounted as it was by the white hair which is a crown of As r.early as may be our Antipodes--that is, if a giant skewer glory, looked up again with an almost piteous expression in the eyes. could be run through the earth in England, it would come out

"My dear,” he said, in an unsteady voice," don't wait to serve the the other end in New Zealand,—they are as like us in some Lord, and to take an interest in His work till you bave only the rags of points as they are unlike in others. The north, the middle, and your life to give Him-days which are not worth giving, feeble and weak the small southern isle, may be compared to our Great Britain, as they are.” Then raising his voice into a tone of solemn indignation, Ireland, and Isle of Wight; like us, they enjoy a temperató and fixing bis eyes upon the girl's face, with such a stern expression in climate, and our plants and animals thrive there as if they were them that Sasie trembled, he added, " Will you indeed offer unto the at home. But in others, they are exactly different to us. Our Lord your God of that which doth cost you nothing, and wait for the summer months, with their wealth of flowers and fruit, bring days when you will say, 'I have no pleasure in them'?"

the depths of winter to them; our silent hours of midnight find But hardly had the words passed bis lips before his face was again them in the height of noonday activities ; our snowy Christmas hidden in bis hands, as with a sob he murmured, “Nay, but who am I, is to them the prime of the summer. The more northerly, the Lord, that I should reprove this poor child ? 'Thou knowest my foolish- warmer it is, in their experience ; the farther south, the colder. ness; and my sins are not hid from Thee.''

The British Isles were rich in species of native deer and oxen, Sasie stood silent, not knowing what to think or say. She had seldom, in wild boars, and many other races of quadrupeds ; New if ever, been addressed in such a tone before, and she scarcely knew how

Zealand could not boast of one, until ships from foreign lands to take it. She was not fond of being told her faults (as who indeed is?), transported first some emigrant rats, and by degrees dogs, cats, and if any one else had spoken to her in this way she would have angrily sheep, and larger animals; and so extraordinary were these in rebelled. But somehow she could not be angry with this weak trembling the eyes of its human inhabitants, that they turned sick with old man; and he was so very queer too, he must be childish, she thought to

terror on first beholding them. We must go back many herself. Besides, his tears and prayers had touched her, and she felt she

centuries to find the time when grains of some sort or another could take from him what she could not have borne from another. “And,"

were not known and used as food in England. In New thought Sasie, “ I am quite sure he is good. He speaks to God as if he

Zealand, spite of the rich abundance of noble trees and lovely knew He was close beside bim, so he has a right to speak to one who is so

flowers with which it is adorned, there was no wholesome fruit far off God as I am."

or grain of any kind suitable for food to be met with of natural My dear," he said, rising slowly from his seat, “I must be going home now, but I should like to see you again some day. I am Mr. North, and

growth; nor even any eatable root, except that of a species

of fern, which was roasted and beaten into a sort of cake have taken rooms at Mrs. Caston's, the baker. Do you think you could come and see me?"

most unpalatable to European appetites. But, with fish to “I don't quite know if I can," said Sasie slowly, for though she did

be had at certain seasons of the year, it formed for ages the sole not feel vexed or angry at what Mr. North had been saying to her, she

food of the inhabitants, with the horrid exception of human did not exactly relish the idea of another tête-à-tête, and inwardly re

flesh, which was the staple of their choicest banquets. Potatoes, solved that anyhow some weeks should pass before she would venture

corn of all sorts, and the varied and delicious fruit-trees of our on another.

climate, were all unknown until brought to them from the other A look of keen disappointment passed over Mr. North’s face at her

side of the globe. doubtful reply. “My dear," he said, in a tone of voice which made Sasie

Yet we must not for a moment think of New Zealand scenery feel somewhat ashamed of her answer, “I'm a lonely old man, and should

as barren of natural beauty. On the contrary, its landscapes are like to see you sometimes. I have pretty things in my room to show

many of them eminently lovely. Its deeply-indented shores are you," he added eagerly; "things from India and China, and different

clothed to the very edge with myrtles and fuchsias, violas and parts of the world, that you would like to see.”

primulas of various kinds, shaded by the mighty branches of the "Well—I'll come, Mr. North,” said Sasie, hesitatingly, “ if,” she added pohutakama, whose stem resembles an English oak, but its rich with a blush, and a half mischievous look in her eyes, “ if you don't scold

tufts of blossom rival those of the scarlet geranium in brilliance me, and tell me again that I'm careless and selfish."

and in colour. The largest of all the pine-trees grows there "Nay, my child, don't be afraid,” said the old man, tenderly stroking luxuriantly, often attaining a hundred feet before it throws out the hand which' Sasie had he'd' out to him, “I won't scold you, pretty the clustering head of branches that tower far above the other one, so I hope you ʼll come. I once had a little girl like you-so like you

lords of the forest. The graceful tree-fern grows to the height --and you remind me of her.”

of thirty feet; the ratu, forty feet in circumference, is splendid

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with its dazzling scarlet blossoms, and a perfect forest of con- shaped cones of a pinkish colour formed from tha deposit of the water, volvuli, clematis, and other creepers festoon the branches and rose many feet into the air, descending again in silvery foam, and sparkstems of plants of larger growth. The wild bramble, covered

ling in the sunsbine. Some of these hot springs are guided by the

patives into natural or artificial hollows in the rocks, where their temperwith little roses, climbs to their very summit, and descends

ature being regulated by a stream of cold water that flows among them, again on the other side, a very cascade of fragrant bloom. they serve as baths; and when we paid our first visit, we found the chiefs

These glorious forests are vocal with an endless variety of sitting in these, as novel chairs of state !
singing birds; the mako-mako is compared to our nightingale,
the warbling of the tui rivals that of the English thrush, and

Villages built, as some are, on the crust of earth which covers these mingle with the plaintive coo of the wood-pigeon, and less

these boiling depths of mud are fearfully insecure; but there is agreeably with the scream of the parrot. The birds are the

much to tempt savages, reckless as the New Zealanders have only denizens of these lovely scenes; not an insect or a four

been of life, to such a locality. The land is fertile, they use the footed creature of any kind is to be seen.

tepid water as baths, and the steaming crevices serve to cook their The islands are remarkable for their grand mountain food, with a very simple arrangement. A layer of fern is placed groups and ranges. In the centre of the northern isle rises a

across the steaming fissure ; the food placed upon it, and covered volcanic group, in which there is an active volcano 7,000 feet again with fern, becomes dressed as in a regular English oven. in height, of which marvellous tales are related. Towards the

Mr. Taylor visited such a village in 1845, and was greatly imnorth-east a remarkable chain of lakes stretches to the coast, and pressed with the grandeur of the whole scene. The buildings descriptions are endless of the beauty and wonders of the

themselves were extremely picturesque, with their strong scenery of these shores. A first visit fifty years ago was thus palisades, carved posts, and native dwellings. A bright stream described:

ran through the village enclosure, and in front lay the broad ex

panse of Taupo (a fine lake 36 miles long), with its islands, woods, The view of the lake itself was very fine as we approached; on the nearer side a noble wood stretched down to the water's edge; the islands

and mountains. The noble figure of the chief, Te Heu Heu, was in the lake, the steam of bot springs rising towards the north, and the

in harmony with the surroundings. He was advanced in years, richly wooded hills of Tarawera in the background, formed a lovely his hair silvery-white, so white that his people could only comscene. The whole country was full of nature's wonders ; here were pare it to the snowy summit of their sacred mountain, Tongariro ; boiling cauldrons of mud, black, blue, grey, green, yellow, and red, giving but his form, still erect, showed off his magnificent height of out their lazy steam; close to these, and as if purposely in contrast, were clear pools of bright azure-coloured boiling water, enclosed in natural

nearly seven feet to the utmost advantage. He was clothed in walls of sulphurous formation. But the most beautiful objects were the

his handsome native mat, and his manners, distinguished equally jets. These boiling fountains, thrown out from the top of irregularly by dignity, frankness, and courtesy to his guests, made him a very

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