The former looked, and, to his astonishment, saw that for each loaf thrown in, the returning wave brought back a basketful, and cast them at the donor's feet! In great wonder he awoke, and the next day calling on the deacon, related his dream, and added, tearfully,— "Go on, brother! go on! Cast your bread upon the waters—doubtless, after many days, it will be returned to you!" A SMILE, A GLANCE, A HYMN. A THOUGHTLESS boy of fifteen, who had heard the Bible and the Christian profession treated lightly, imbibed the poison of skepticism. He had come to think that religion was only a name, and that the followers of Christ were a gloomy people, denying themselves this world's enjoyments and receiving no equivalent. It chanced one day that he was sent on an errand to a lady, of whom his parents would often speak compassionately, as one who had but a little while to live. "Poor Mrs. S.," they were wont to exclaim, "how dreadful must it be to her to know that she must leave her beautiful home, her babe and husband. But," they would add, "she is a church-member,—wonder of she is sustained in her great trouble." The son called on Mrs. S. With pleased emotions, for he was a lad of fine taste, he looked at the dwelling and out-grounds. Wealth had here lavished its stores in adorning and furnishing a home where, it would seem, scarcely a wish was ungratified. The garden was a paradise of rare plants and flowers. Within, the foot pressed the richest carpets, luxurious chairs and lounges invited repose, while the elegant library contained the choicest productions in literature. A fair babe, the picture of health, lay sleeping in its pretty cot. He glanced at the costly house and dimpled child, and then at the sick woman, and thought how terrible a thing it is to die amid such scenes. He expected that the countenance of the death-doomed wife and mother would reflect his feelings. But no. That saintly expression, such as beautifies those only who have been purified by suffering, and "look not at the things that are seen and temporal, but at the things that are unseen and eternal," lighted up her face. An ever-present smile, sweet and heavenly beyond any thing he had ever seen, spoke of her deep, spiritual joy. It overwhelmed him with surprise. "This, this," said an inward voice, "is what Christianity does for Death's victims!" There is, there must be, he felt, reality in that which can give happiness under circumstances so forbidding. That smile followed him, an unanswerable witness for Jesus, till he was led to seek the dying Christian's Saviour. "A smile—a simple smile convinced me," he would afterwards say.