Aunt Fanny's burns were now nearly healed. For a week she had been without the bandages, though the wounds were still tender. Her trunks were mostly packed, and many tokens of love placed there by beloved friends.

When with her brother's family the young missionary always wore a cheerful smile; but there were hours when she wept at the thought of parting from those who were so dear. Yet not for one instant did she regret the choice of her life. She was going to tell the poor benighted heathen of the love of Jesus,—to try and persuade them to throw away their idols, and worship the living and true God.

As she thought of all this, and realized what a privilege it was to save souls from eternal death, her whole heart glowed with a desire to be among those for whom she was to labor.

Mr. and Mrs. Matthews had been travelling for some weeks, but had now returned to be in season for the wedding.

On the Sabbath night previous, the family were seated in the library, when mamma noticed that Josey was not present. She could not account for this, because, when out of school, he was scarcely a moment away from his aunt's side. She went through several rooms in search of him, and at last found him in a closet by himself, sobbing as if his heart would break.

"Why must Aunt Fanny go?" he sobbed, "I can't bear it,—I can't bear not to see her any longer!"

"My darling," said mamma, taking his hand, and leading him to her own chamber, "do you know what Aunt Fanny is going for?"

"Yes, mamma, but couldn't somebody else do it?" She stopped a moment and then said,—

"Josey, there was a time, thousands of years ago, when man had sinned, and there was no hope nor joy for him in the world; there was only the certainty that his soul must be miserable forever. Then our blessed Saviour said, 'I pity these poor people and shall try to save them.' He left his glorious throne, by the side of his Father, and came here to give himself to death.

"The love and pity of God the Father was so great, that he sent his beloved Son, that whosoever believeth on him shall have everlasting life.

"The poor Hindoos know nothing of the true God. They have not the precious Bible, as we have, to tell them that they need not throw their babies to the crocodiles,—they need not tear and wound their own flesh, nor throw themselves under the wheels of the cruel Juggernaut. Your aunt Fanny and uncle James are going to tell them, they need do nothing of all this. They desire to say to those poor, ignorant men and women and children, that Christ's love for them is so great that if they will but come and accept of his salvation, it shall be freely theirs. She wants to tell the poor, weary pilgrims, who have been walking hundreds of miles with stones in their shoes, that the blessed Jesus will accept them without money, without price, without any of these painful journeys,—that they have only to lay their load of sin upon him, and he will carry it for them."

Josey's tears ceased to flow, and he listened with almost breathless interest.

"Do you want to keep Aunt Fanny from telling them this?" mamma asked. "Do you want them to go on worshipping those senseless idols, which can neither see, nor hear, nor understand?"

With a great sob Josey answered,

"No, mamma, I love her dearly, dearly; but I'll let Jesus have her. He'll know then how I love him."

With a gush of tears, she folded him to her heart. When they were more calm, she urged him to return to the parlor.

"Pretty soon I will," he said softly, "And oh, mamma, if you'll please let me sit up an hour later every night till she—I mean, till we're all alone. Now I'm going to write her a letter."

My little reader, would you like to read it, and see how our dear Josey showed his love to his Saviour? how he tried to obey the rule, "My little children let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth?" It was this: