THERE are missionaries in Asia; in India where the poor Hindoo lies down to be crushed to death, by the car of his hideous idol; in China, where the foolish idolaters burn incense to their god Poosa, and under the beautiful skies of Australia, where the savage New Zealander eats his fellowmen; there are missionaries in Africa; in Sierra Leone, a burning and unhealthy climate, where English people often die as soon as they arrive, and in the countries near the Cape of Good Hope among the Hottentots; there are missionaries in America, traversing the woods, and wild countries of the West, preaching to the native Indian tribes, and in the hot countries of Jamaica, and Barbadoes, teaching the poor negroes; from the frozen coasts of Greenland, where more than half the year is one long night of frost and snow, to the beautiful islands of Tahiti, and Owyhee, where perpetual summer reigns, scattered here and there, over all the world, though few indeed, and often far apart, there are missionary stations. It is a happy thing to labour for the cause of Christ among the distant heathen, but there are also missionaries at home, whose work is often equally useful, and equally blest. It is about one of these that I am now going to tell you. It was a lovely morning in spring, when a little boy was walking alone in a beautiful garden; alone, as he thought, but not quite so, for his fond mamma who had sent him out, was standing at a window of her castle watching her dear child. The night had been stormy, and she had sent him out, to see if any of her flowers had been blown down, and if there were, to raise them, and tie them up again. For some time the little Adelbert pursued his occupation, enjoying the sweetness of the morning, as cheerful and gay as the little birds, who were singing among the branches, over his head; at last, as he was looking up, watching some pigeons who were flying about at a distance, he saw one little dove fluttering feebly on the wing; its movements showed that its strength had failed, and it was falling to the ground; its companions hovered round, but could not help it; little Adelbert knew that immediately under it there was a large pond, and that if it fell into it, it would certainly be drowned. Off he ran to its assistance : there was a bridge across the pond, and a boat in it, but the bridge was too high above the water, to enable him to reach the dove, and the boat was too far off; while he was considering what he should do, the poor dove dropped faster and faster through the air, until at last it fell as Adelbert had feared, into the water; it faintly stretched out its scarcely fledged wings, and Adelbert knew not how to rescue it; until he joyfully saw at a short distance a washing tub, which the maids had been using for the clothes; down he rolled it into the pond, and seizing a pole which lay near, pushed off to the help of the drowning dove: he caught hold of it, just as it was in the act of sinking, took it out of the water, and wiped its wet wings with his handkerchief, and not knowing what to do with it, put it inside his jacket, whilst he was occupied in getting back again to the shore. The Countess, his mamma, had watched her child with great anxiety, during this time; Adelbert was wrong in getting into the washing-tub, for although we should always be ready to risk our own lives to save one of our fellow-creatures, it is not right to do so for the sake of a bird; yet the Countess was not angry, for she felt overjoyed, to see that her Adelbert possessed so much humanity and kindness; still she watched him anxiously, till he got safe to shore. Warmth had restored the dove, it opened its red eyes, and the happy Adelbert began to feed it with a piece of bread: he then ran into the castle to his mother, to tell her all that happened, but she knew already, and clasping her dear little boy in her arms, she pressed him to her, and solemnly said, "God bless you, my dear child! may you never show less promptitude or intrepidity in rescuing unfortunate men!" These words went, as the words of a fond mother often do, to the heart of her child, they were not forgotten through long after years, and the good Countess, before she died, had the happiness of seeing him, by the blessing of God, save hundreds of his fellow-creatures from a fate, far worse than that which awaited the drowning dove. I will tell you how this came about. When Count Von der Recke, for such was the name of the little boy, became a man, Prussia, his native country, had been desolated by a long and dreadful war: you do not know what a terrible thing war is; little children, when they hear of great battles and splendid victories, do not know the sufferings with which they are purchased; for my part, although I love my country as well as any one, and hope. that our dear and beautiful island, may always be as flourishing, and prosperous, as it now is, yet I cannot help thinking it is a very wicked thing to go to war. At the time of which I am speaking, the country had been laid waste, the towns made desolate, and many, many families utterly ruined; does my little reader ask how this could be? Suppose an enemy's army marched into the place where you live, and burnt your papa's house, and all the furniture in it, and then ran over the |