r the poor rugged
features, and shone in the dark, hollow eyes, such as nothing on earth
can give--a wonderful light of great, unutterable love, as they gazed
into the eyes of the child, and then, looking upward, seemed to open on
a vision none else could see.

"Jesus! Savior! I can do no more. Take care of him, thou thyself,
Jesus, Lord!"

He said no more--no prayer for himself, only for the child.

Then the eyes grew dim, the head sank back, and with one sigh he
breathed his soul away to God.

And such an awe came over the boy that he ceased to weep.

He could only follow the happy soul up to God, and say voicelessly in
his heart:

"Dear Lord Jesus! I understand at last! The raven was the angel. And
Thou hast let me see him for one moment as he is, as he is now with
Thee, as he will be evermore!"

[Illustration]

A TRIP TO THE TEA COUNTRY.

BY WILLIAM M. TILESTON.

[Illustration: ]

I was leaning over the tea-room table on one of the lovely spring
mornings that we sometimes have in China. In front of me the large
window, like that in an artist's studio, admitted the north light upon
the long array of little porcelain teacups and saucers, and "musters,"
or square, flat boxes of tea-samples. The last new "chop" had been
carefully tasted and the leaf inspected, and I was wondering whether
the price asked by the tea-man would show a profit over the latest
quotations from London and New York, when my speculations were
disturbed by the entrance of my friend Charley, followed by Akong, well
known as the most influential tea-broker in the Oopack province.
Charley and Akong were fast friends, and I saw by the twinkle in the
eyes of each that a premeditated plot of some kind was about being
exploded upon my unsuspecting self.

But before going further, let me tell you who we all are, where we are,
and what we are doing.

Of course I am aware that it is exceedingly impolite to put oneself
first, but in the present instance you must excuse it; for besides
being the oldest, I occupy the position of guide, philosopher and
friend to Charley, and my story would scarcely be intelligible or
complete if I did not begin with myself. Well, to begin: I am one of
those unfortunate individuals known in China as "cha-szes," or
tea-tasters; doomed for my sins, or the hope of one day getting rich,
to pass the time in smelling, tasting and buying teas for the great
mercantile house or "hong" of Young Hyson & Co. The