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THE BUTTERFLIES' MISSION. THE old maid walked slowly along, thinking discon- solately of her many troubles, and wondering why people who seem to have no particular place and no particular work in the world were ever sent into it- wondering why some people should have more than heart could wish, while others, just as deserving, should have next to nothing—wondering why the favoured inhabitants of the great palace on the hill should seem so indifferent to blessings which would render her unspeakably happy—wondering, wonder- ing, wondering, and fretting within herself at the ways of Providence. The old maid was very un- happy, because she was very rebellious and wicked at heart, though all her outward conduct was frozen into the utmost propriety. Nobody in the world who had seen that tall, correct figure, with every garment religiously severe in its meekness and simplicity, who had remarked those quietly-folded hands which held a book in their clasp, and that pale, passionless face, with its downcast eyes, could have dreamed of the vexed and tumultuous thoughts that were boiling and foaming within. Man looketh on the outward ap- pearance, but God looketh on the heart;" and He had pity on the unhappIness of the lonely old maid's heart, and sent it comfort. The path along which she walked led by the side or a little singing brook the grass was fresh and green along its banks, and some pretty little flowers were peeping out their smiling faces to the sunshine. Sud- denly, right in the midst of cne of her most knotty wonderings, up, almost into the old maid's face, fluttered a flock of butterflies-beautiful, yellow butterflies—all alike. She did not remember to have seen so many together for a great many years. Thought dropped the knotty questions, as suddenIY313 a dog will drop a hot joint, and made a great leap backwards. The old maid stood perfectly still, and close to her feet the bright little flock again settled down. Well does Mr. Baecher eloquently describe butterflies as "the interior spirits of rainbows, sent down to salute those kisses of the ae sons on the ground-flowers." They are, indeed, as spirits, and thete butterflies came with a messaqe from the past to the heart ot the desolate old maid. People passed near and turned to look at the sober- eyed woman standing so motionless with the butter- flies at her feet-perhaps they thought her crazed or I foolish—she did not care what they thought; her soul was gone away backwards, to fields by a river 048 where long ago she had wandered with the fiiet lored companion of her childhood. She remembered bow thickly tho grass was ruinglcd with the same sweet bloom that was now before her eyes, and she reajtcu bered how many, many flocks of yellow butterflies ahe and her playmate had chased up aud duwu tho-e fields. How everything came back the old stumps ""ar the road, about which sorrelgrewsoplenti'ully she and Mary used to gather it to make sauce for their bread and butter. She remembered that it tested as good as applesauce; and she wished that she had some now. She saw herself and Mary running through the fields towar3s home, and she also saw her mothfr standing at the door beckoning to them. Then, with her apron full of sorrel, her heart full of happiness, and her hands full of butter- flies, she reiched her mother, she cried ou t- Oh! ma, ma, so many of these little beauties She opened her hands—alas! the beauty of her captives was destroyed,and they crept helplessly along the little fingers of their captor. Then all the gentle words of that de r mother came ba-k to memorr- again are heard th-3 comforting, instructio;, and warning words of that long sleeping mother-and the old maid remembers that thus they closed-" My little daughter must always remember of how many things these frail and'pretty creatures are an emblem. They are an emblem of our own future life, and also of the things in this life which look so beautiful to us that we chase them so eagerly, and grasp them so rudely, that when they are gained we find them of little worth. The world is full of disappointments and troubles, my child; and you will have your share; but I hope you will always remember your mother's words, and be patient, and cheerful, and loving, towards both God and man, let your sorrows be what they may. We none of us ever have so much trouble as we deserve, nor so much as our Saviour bore for us, and we never ought to complain at what is laid upon us. Life is but very short, dear child, though now you cannot think so—and when it is over-if we have passed it as we ought-loving our Lord through trouble and through joy-we shall find no more dis- appointments-all, and more than we have ever wished for, will be given us; and we shall be attonished at our own happiness." With a significance, never till now fully understood, returned the wise and kind words of that mother; and there was given to the old maid a disposition to assent to all that they conveyed. Humbled and com- forted she passed on her way, while about her seemed blowing the winds, and floating the odours, of her far- off childhood. The frail wings of the butt rflies had borne upon them influences strong enough to fan away the gloom from a human heart; and to hush its wild heavings until they were hub the soft and gentle throbs caused by the broodings of parental love Oh Peace, how tweet thou art-how holy! When wilt thou reign o'er all the earth ? When enter into our rsstless and distracted hearts there to abide ?