were near sinking under the distraction of their mind. Unfeeling Bill Boldface, who could have set all to rights, had sailed off to America the very morning after the sweet baby had disappeared.

At length, one morning, the distracted father perceived Fidelle jumping upon the table and seizing a large piece of bread, fly off with it to the wood. The Lord instantly put it in his heart to follow the dog, who led him into the abbey; and there, surrounded by his little subjects the birds, fast asleep, (for he had just fallen asleep on his throne,) lay the little monarch. His hand was placed under his little head, and the leaves of the ivy and the yew were all scattered about him. "My child! my child!" said the poor father, darting forward, and snatching him in his arms; "'tis my Henry! my cherub! my darling! O gracious God! is it indeed my child?"

The well-known voice aroused Henry, and flinging his little arms around papa's neck, he begged to be taken instantly to mamma, saying, as his happy papa carried him out of the abbey, "Good-bye, little birds, good-bye: I'll come back to-morrow, and bring you some white bread; but now I must go see mamma. Good-bye, little birds, good-bye."

Poor mamma, when she saw him, overcome by her feelings, fainted away. When she recovered, she threw herself on her knees in gratitude to God for thus so wonderfully preserving her little darling.

And now, my children, pause for a moment, and reflect on the goodness of God so powerfully displayed in this little story. You see how he directed Fidelle to bring food for the support of this little baby; you see how wonderfully he was preserved, and how, at length, he was restored to his parents. Those parents were truly religious, and therefore their prayers were heard—For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers: but the face of the Lord is against them that do evil. (1 Pet. iii. 12.) O my children! love God, and make Christ your friend, and then they will watch over you as they did over little Henry; and, when you die, they will take you up to live with themselves, and you shall be surrounded by the happy angels in heaven.

Perhaps my little readers may like to hear something of poor Fidelle. Soon after her visits to the abbey, she had two little pups. One of them died, but the other Henry reared with the greatest tenderness; while its good old mother, beloved and even respected (which is not generally the case with dogs) by all the family, lived to an advanced age: and when she died, they buried her in the garden, under the spreading branches of an old sycamore tree.

Little Henry, trained in the love and fear of God, grew up one of the best of children. Every where he went, the blessing of God was with him, for Christ was his friend: and when little Henry had committed a fault, he would apply to his kind Saviour, who was then always ready to procure God's pardon for him. In the course of time, his mamma taught him the following little poem.

Thou Friend of my childhood, and Guide of my youth,
Thou Father of mercies, and Fountain of truth;—
Protect and direct me wherever I stray,
And bless little Henry each hour in the day.

When up in the morning I rise from my bed,
O, let thy kind angels be plac'd o'er my head;
And when at my tasks, at my school, or my play,
Still bless little Henry each hour in the day.

When night spreads its shade o'er the waves of the deep,
And Henry is sunk in the stillness of sleep,
O, still let thy poor child be dear in thy sight,
And bless little Henry each hour in the night.

FINIS.

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