DALECARLIAN PEASANT WOMAN

TAKING HER CHILD TO BE

BAPTIZED.

ROFESSOR HOCKERT of the Stockholm Academy, in the picture we here engrave, gives a view of Dalecarlian peasant life. The costume almost reminds one of Italy, and with the exception of the headdress, which is not uncommon, is totally different from that worn in every-day life, and only used at weddings, christenings, &c. The child is carried by the mother snugly ensconced in a bed, made in a long flat basket with two large handles; and sticking up at the side of the basket is the wooden staff or tally, on which the registry of the child's age is kept by cutting a notch at the end of each year. The people in appearance, manners, and language, especially the latter, very much resemble the Irish, and their religion is that which is called Lutheran.

WILLIE AND JEANIE. ITTLE Willie, Baby Jeanie, See them at their play; Never still and never silent

All the summer day.

Pattering feet and merry voices,

Jeanie will not rest;

All the day to frisk and frolic

Pleases Willie best.

But when bathing-time is over
Restless Willie sleeps,
And to Baby Jeanie's eyelids
Quiet slumber creeps.

Busy feet are still and silent,

Eager hands at rest;

Happy dreams kind angels whisper

Through the live-long night; Jesus, tender Shepherd, keep them Till the morning light. Little Willie, Baby Jeanie,

May He watch you still;
May you never leave His keeping,
Choosing your own will.
Life is full of sorrow, Jeanie,

May those busy feet
Move on many a kindly errand,
Have a mission sweet.
Comfort to the sick and lonely

May they ever bring;
Where they tread, may desert places
Like the garden spring.

So when life's long day is over,
And your quiet bed
Has a deeper, stiller slumber
With the silent dead,
You may rest in Jesus' keeping,
Till you hear His voice
Saying, 'Come, ye blessed children,
Waken, and rejoice.

Enter now the happy kingdom,

That your Father's love

Has prepared for His true servants, In His home above.'

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE EAST.

MANNER OF PAYING HOMAGE.

WHE

B.

HEN any one in the East wishes to show great respect to those above him, he does so by crossing his arms, bowing to the ground, or even kissing the earth. Sometimes persons touched the hem of the dress of those from whom they hoped to obtain some favour. So the woman who had an issue of blood came behind our

On soft pillows prest.

garment, and in a moment she was cured.

THE UPRIGHT JUDGE AND THE

GOOD ARCHBISHOP.

ONS. BONJEAU, a French judge, was one of the hostages barbarously massacred at the prison of La Roquette in May, 1871, by the Communists of Paris. This good magistrate, as soon as he was seized and imprisoned, expected to die. So well known was his integrity, that on his asking leave to go to some little distance out of Paris to say farewell to his family, he was allowed to depart alone, and he honestly returned next day to his prison.

He thought that the best way to prepare himself for appearing in the presence of God was to study His Word, so he wrote to a friend requesting him to send him a Bible in very large print, that he might be able to read all the longer without fatigue. The Holy Scriptures were sent to him, and doubtless he read them in his prison according to his pious design; doubtless, too, he prayed, and found what he sought, he who seeks, finds,- the salvation of his soul. And when the day came, and the gaolers made him pass along the dark corridors to the neighbouring field, where a French officer commanded French soldiers to fire on their noble fellow-countryman, he advanced to meet death with a perfect calmness; and when the good Archbishop, M. Darboy, exhausted by privations, seemed to fail a little, M. Bonjeau said to him in a loud voice, 'Come, Monseigneur, rest upon my arm.'

Arrived at the place of execution, he remained standing close to the Archbishop, and said again, 'Let us show that a magistrate and an archbishop know how to die!' Then, resolutely crossing his arms upon his breast, he awaited death. Nineteen balls struck him at once.

The excellent Archbishop of Paris, Mon

seigneur Darboy, bravely and calmly met his death at the same time, and under similar circumstances. It might be said that he expected it from the very commencement of the Revolution, and that he was quite prepared to offer himself, if necessary, as a victim. When the Père Hyacinthe, a celebrated French preacher, went to take leave of him, before starting on a journey to Rome, several months previously, after having spoken of the storm which was gathering over their heads as they took leave of each other, the venerable Archbishop added with emphasis, "To meet again here below, or elsewhere.'

It is stated that at the beginning of his captivity, it was proposed to ransom him for the sum of two millions of francs. 'I am not worth so much,' he replied with his sweet smile.

When the soldiers went to fetch him for execution, Here I am,' he replied, simply and without a complaint. He walked through the ranks of the rebels, several of whom grossly insulted him. Without being in the least affected by this conduct, he replied to their insults by giving them his pardon.

'I forgive those who wish my death,' he said to them; but what have I done to you? I should much wish to know why I am to die. It is painful to die without knowing why.'

It is said that some National Guards could not be prevented from leaving their ranks, and going to prostrate themselves before the Archbishop to ask his blessing.

The above account of the death of these two Frenchmen is taken from a Protestant almanack published by an Evangelical society in Paris, and so it is all the more weighty testimony to the faith, boldness, and charity of this noble French judge and good archbishop. J. F. C.