eye full of anxious expression, but quite devoid of doubt or anxiety.
All our attention was at once directed to the half-clothed, barefooted
child, to whom the questions were now put, and by whom they were
answered with a promptitude and precision most wonderful. And who,
what was he, that little brown boy? Some did not care to ask, and
others said: 'Who would have thought that that little beggar-boy would
have been so smart!' But God has chosen the vile things (to man) of
this earth to become a bright and shining light to the world. We asked
who that little boy was, and the master smiled, shook his head, and
said: 'Oh, I scarcely know myself: it is a little boy the police have
sent us in lately from the streets. It is not above three weeks since
he came, but he is a good and very clever child--very desirous to
learn, and never forgets anything!'

I was affected by this trivial circumstance, reflecting how many
little brown boys like this there must be in various countries called
civilised, who, for want of a refuge where love and light are
predominant, remain the outcasts of the streets, and become the prey
of vice and ignorance.




THE LOSING GAME.

[The following story is by no means a piece of mere
invention. The principal points were narrated to me by a
very intelligent young North-Sea fisherman, who had
frequently heard the legend from a grizzled old sailor on
board the smack in which he was an apprentice. The veteran