"Deeply impressed with the moral wants of these poor creatures, especially the women, and their need of friendly counsel in their new position, I have opened Mother's meetings--now held weekly, in each of our three-school districts--where they are invited to come with their work and their babies. I talk familiarly with them about their household matters, the cheapest and most wholesome food, the best ways of cooking it, and the right care of their children, and their duties to their husbands--often being greatly helped out in my own stock of knowledge by the practical experience of some nice old aunty, who tells how she manages, till the whole group is at ease and can confide their troubles and trials. Then I read, teach, or talk to them. Finally, all lay aside their work, and the babies are hushed up, while they listen to a chapter from the Bible; and the devotional pause at the close is solemn and impressive. Those who cannot spare two or three hours, hurry in at the last, and I hear them saying 'I'se just goin' over to prayers, 'pears like it gives me _such_ a lift.'" LOVE FOR THE BIBLE. At a great fire in the city of New York a hundred houses had been burned. Dr. Ely overtook a colored woman who was carrying under one arm a bundle of wood, and under the other a large Bible. "Poor woman," said he, "have you been burnt out too?" "Yes, sir," said she, "but blessed be God, I'm alive." "You are very old to be turned out of house and home." "I'm well stricken in years, but God does it." "Have you saved nothing but the Bible?" "Nothing," said she, "but one trunk of things; but this blessed Book is worth more than all the rest; it makes me feel better than all the rest. So long as I keep this, I am content." HYMN. SUNG AT CHRISTMAS BY THE SCHOLARS AT ST. HELENA'S ISLAND, S. C. O none in all the world before Were ever glad as we! We're free on Carolina's shore, We're all at home and free. Thou Friend and Helper of the poor, Who suffered for our sake, To open every prison door, And every yoke to break, Bend low Thy pitying face and mild, And help us sing and pray; The hand that blessed the little child, Upon our foreheads lay. We hear no more the driver's horn, No more the whip we fear; This holy day that saw Thee born, Was never half so dear. The very oaks are greener clad, The waters brighter smile; O never shone a day so glad On sweet St. Helen's isle. We praise Thee in our songs to-day, To Thee in prayer we call; Make swift the feet and straight the way, Of freedom unto all. Come once again, O blessed Lord! Come walking on the sea! And let the main-lands hear the word That sets the islands free. J. G. WHITTIER. A TEMPERANCE MEETING IN AFRICA.