ssures us that there is in
this hut a Christian composure, far beyond the need of our pity, and
sent from a region above the stars.

There cannot be a cleaner cottage. Tidiness, it is pleasant to know, has
for a good many years past been establishing itself in Scotland among
the minor domestic virtues. Once established it will never decay; for it
must be felt to brighten, more than could be imagined by our fathers,
the whole aspect of life. No need for any other household fairy to sweep
this floor. An orderly creature we have seen she is, from all her
movements out and in doors--though the guest of but an hour. They have
told us that they had known what are called better days--and were once
in a thriving way of business in a town. But they were born and bred in
the country; and their manners, not rustic but rural, breathe of its
serene and simple spirit--at once Lowland and Highland--to us a pleasant
union, not without a certain charm of grace.

What loose leaves are those lying on the Bible? A few odd numbers of the
SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD. We shall take care, our friends, that all the
Numbers, bound in three large volumes, shall, ere many weeks elapse, be
lying for you at the Manse. Let us recite to you, our worthy friends, a
small sacred Poem, which we have by heart. Christian, keep your eye on
the page, and if we go wrong, do not fear to set us right. Can you say
many psalms and hymns? But we need not ask--for

"Piety is sweet to infant minds;"

what they love they remember--for how easy--how happy--to get dear
things by heart! Happiest of all--the things held holy on earth as in
heaven--because appertaining here to Eternal Life.

TO THE SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD.

BY THE REV. DUNCAN GRANT, A.M., MINISTER OF FORRES.

"Beauteous on our heath-clad mountains,
May our HERALD'S feet appear;
Sweet, by silver lakes and fountains,
May his voice be to our ear.
Let the tenants of our rocks,
Shepherds watching o'er their flocks,
Village swain and peasant boy,
Thee salute with songs of joy!

CHRISTIAN HERALD! spread the story
Of Redemption's wondrous plan;
'Tis Jehovah's brightest glory,
'Tis His highest gift to man;
Angels on their harps of gold,
Love its glories to unfold;
Heralds who its influence wield,
Make the waste a fruitful field.

To the fount of mercy soaring,
On the wings of faith and love