And now I will give you an instance of an Arab's self-respect. A day or two ago a man brought three quails, and said such a man had sent them as a present to the doctor. The doctor thanked him, and then the man wanted a present for bringing them. "Give him the quails," said the doctor, and off he went with them again. I could fill pages with accounts of the dreadful effects of heathenism on this people, but it is only what is seen in every place where the Gospel has not yet gone. This is the hardest trial of the missionaries' life--more than any physical deprivation--the being compelled to live among such people. It always makes me think what a long martyrdom the life of our blessed Saviour must have been on earth. It was not only that he _saw_ and _heard_ such things, but he knew every _thought_ in the wicked hearts of those about him. Dear little sisters, will you not begin even in your childhood to work for Him? To _deny_ yourselves that these benighted miserable people all over the world may have this Gospel light? And you can always pray for those who are engaged in this work. I hope some of you may grow up to go far away to the Gentiles yourselves. Lovingly, your friend, MARY E. METHENY. - - - - - - - A little Moslem child accounted for her preference for the Christian religion by saying, "I like your Jesus because he loves little girls. Our Mohammed did not love little girls." With unerring instinct she had seized upon at least one of the great differences between the two religions. GIVE GOD THE BEST. THE following touching story is told of a poor Hindoo mother, a native of Kedgeree in India: This woman lived on the Ganges, near Sanger Island. She was the mother of a pair of beautiful twin babies. But one of these children was a girl, and the poor benighted mother on that account supposed herself to be under "Gunga's" curse for some offence she had committed. A missionary's wife found her lamenting, and heard the story of her grief. The god must be appeased, the woman said. He was certainly angry, or the children would have both been boys, and with good eyes. She would have to make a sacrifice to soothe his wrath. The Christian lady did what she could to impress her with better teachings, but with little effect. She left her sadly, never for one moment dreaming what the wretched mother meditated doing. A day or two later the lady called again. As before, the mother sat beside the little basket cradle weeping--for this time there was but one baby in the cradle. It was the poor little blind girl. The other had been drowned in the Ganges. The Christian lady was horror-struck when she knew the truth. "Unhappy woman!" she exclaimed; "if you were driven to do this, why did you destroy the child you loved, and spare the one you hated?" The woman sobbed and beat her breast piteously.