THE PENNY POST BOX.

I

I slept comfortably till four in the morning, when John woke me, by saying, "Mother, is the bread come?" Poor little fellow! he had but a scanty supper, and was very hungry. "No," I answered, "it is not yet come, but be quiet and go to sleep again; it will come." We both went to sleep; but I was awakened a little before six, by some one rapping at my window. "Dame Bartlet," said a woman, you must get up immediately. Mrs. Martin's dairymaid is taken very ill, and you must come and milk her cows." Here then was bread for us. went to Mrs. Martin's, and milked her cows, and afterwards sat down in the kitchen to breakfast; but I thought of my child, and could not eat. Mrs. Martin observing me, said, "You do not eat your breakfast, Dame Bartlet." I thanked her, and told her that I had left a little boy at home in bed, very hungry; if she would permit me, I should prefer carrying my breakfast home to him. "Eat your breakfast now,' was the kind answer; "you shall carry some breakfast home to your little boy besides." Mrs. Martin then gave me a basket of provisions, sufficient for myself and child for two or three days. As I returned home, I could not but thank my God, and feel grateful to my kind benefactress; and I rejoiced my little boy's heart by a sight of a good breakfast. He arose directly, and after eating it I made him kneel down again by my side, whilst I returned thanks to my gracious God who had heard our prayers.

Dame Bartlet added, "I have never wanted bread since. I am blessed in my son, who is now a man; he is dutiful and good to me, and has never forgotten the pains his mother took with him in his childhood, nor the advice I then gave him to trust in God."

The Penny Post Box.

DIRECTIONS BY THE EDITOR FOR WRITING LETTERS.

As the EDITOR of the PIONEER would be glad to have more correspondence from his readers, he again invites them to send him their thoughts on any subjects which they may consider worthy of notice. He is aware that most of his readers are working men and working women; but as it is for such persons that the Pioneer is published, he thinks they should express their own views and wishes. He does not expect them to do this perfectly, but he engages to look over what they may write, and, if suitable, prepare it to appear in print. For this purpose he gives a few plain directions which all may easily observe, whether writing to him or any one else.

1. Always put the name of the town or village at the top of the letter, with the day of the month, and the year. If the place be a village, put also the name of the nearest post town from which the letters are delivered by the postman.

FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

2. Write your names in full at the end of the letter; and if you live in a town, the street too, and what is your trade or employment. 3. Never write again across what you have written. Paper and postage are both cheap enough now. Stick the stamps fast, with the head of the Queen upward. Mind that the letter is not overweight.

4. Let all your writing, and the figures too, be in a plain bold hand. Scribbling is painful to read, and wastes much time. Some Editors wont read such letters at all.

Facts, Hints, Gems, and Poetry.

FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

THE CHILDREN'S CORNER.

The Children's Corner.

WORK WELL, AND WITH ALL THY MIGHT.

"Look at that boy! He is a stout, strong fellow, and one of the sharpest in our workshop. But he will not serve our purpose; he must be dismissed."

"Why?" I inquired.

"Because he does not work with all his might.

Just watch the drowsy indifferent way in which he handles his tools. He is thinking about something else all the time."

This was said to me, the other day, by one of the proprietors of an extensive manufactory for machinery, as he conducted me through a part of his enormous works.

"You must require great strength of muscle in your workmen," I remarked.

"No! not so much strength of muscle as strength of purpose-men who work with zeal and energy at whatever they set themselves to do. It is not the strong 'Samson's' and the big 'Goliaths' that do the most good; but lads, like David, earnest, active, and strong of purpose; doing one thing at a time, but doing that thing well."

Alas! I thought, as I left the scene of labour, how many dwarf themselves down into forlorn and disappointed men, through no other fault than this!

"With all thy might!" It is God's own commandment as well as man's. It is the law of heaven as well as the general condition of worldly success. No man ever achieves anything permanently great and useful without carrying out this great and useful principle. Our work may be head-work, or it may be hand-work! We may be the strongest among the strong, or we may be the weakest among the weak. No matter, the rule of duty is the same for all. "Work with all your might!" All famous men whose words and deeds have graven a name which fathers teach their sons to spell-all these-every man of them-worked according to the wise man's precept, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."

We cannot all be reckoned among the great and the famous, but we may all be reckoned among the useful and the earnest. However moderate our natural powers, however narrow our opportunities for action, life's motto should still be the same: "All thy might." Work with all thy might. Love and serve thy God" with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy might."

WE call the awful destruction of human life to which we are about to refer a Holocaust, for it was a "burnt sacrifice," and a Popish one, because it took place at a Popish Festival.

This almost unparalleled catastrophe took place in the city of Santiago, Chili, South America. A correspondent writing from that city, Dec. 14, 1863, thus describes the awful scene. He says:

"I am writing under the shadow of a fearful and heart-rending public calamity, unparalleled in the history of nations. Santiago mourns in loud lamentations the loss of two thousand of its fairest daughters, who, but a short time ago, radiant in beauty and life, now lie in masses of hideous and blackened corpses, victims to the imprudence (if one should use so mild a term) of a fanatical clergy. At sunset, on the 8th of December, the colossal Jesuit temple of La Compania held within its walls upwards of two thousand souls; long lines of carriages were still driving up to the doors, and there depositing hundreds of fair girls, who had with some difficulty, and by great influence with the clergy, procured reserved tickets of admission to the grand evening mass, in honour of the anniversary of the feast of the Immaculate Conception.' The Prebendary Ugarte, who organised the whole fete, had announced some days before that his excellency, Senor Elizaguirre, the illustrious founder of the American College at Rome, the favourite of Pius IX., and his Holiness's Papal Nuncio at the republic of Chili, had condescended to preach on the occasion. On the evening of the 8th the building was decorated upon the most unparalleled scale of splendour; huge draperies of crimson velvet, satin, and cloth of gold, hung from the groins of the arches to the floor, apart from two thousand wax tapers arranged round the high altar. The ceiling was decorated with hundreds of yards of blue and white gauze, arranged in imitation of clouds, and thickly spangled with silver stars. At six in the evening the building held within its walls 2,600 individuals, three quarters of whom were females. Gentlemen who had retained reserved seats, true to the Spanish character, readily relinquished them in favour of the ladies, and were content to stand round the pillars, in the corridors, about the doors, little knowing that by this simple act of customary politeness they were procuring their