WIDOW BLAKE.

T is a sad thing to be a widow, especially if the departed one was a good husband and a loving father.

In the loss of such an one the rich and the poor meet together in their sorrow. Widow Blake felt the loss of her good man in some respects it may be, as much as did our widowed Queen, or the widow of the late President of the United States, of their excellent husbands. The world sympathized with those noble ladies; but few with Widow Blake, though her husband was more than all the world to her. Beside, she was poor, and was left with a boy of twelve and a baby-girl of two years old to provide for.

But Widow Blake was a good woman. She believed God, and she knew where it was written, "Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed."

So, after the funeral of her late husband, she did not sit down with one hand in the other, to do nothing but mourn her great loss, or murmur at her sad condition, refusing to be comforted; but, like a sensible and nobleminded woman as she was, she began to cast about as to what she must now do. Her boy, and her baby, and herself, would want bread. "I can take in washing," she said to herself. "I have a good tub, there is plenty of water in the brook, and I

What could she do to get it?

can dry in the garden; I shall want another sad iron and a few other things, and a few pounds of soap. If I can get these, I think I shall be able to manage."

She lost no time. Next morning she put on her widow's weeds and went to ask the advice of some kind ladies, and was very glad to find that they not only encouraged her but promised to employ her and mention her name to others.

At first she had not enough to do, but she did her work so well that she soon found plenty of employment. Her boy Billy was a good boy and fond of reading. He had been at the Day School when his father was alive, and his mother was very anxious that he should continue to go. This was done for her by a kind gentleman whose wife had told him about the poor widow and her son.

Widow Blake was happy and cheerful now; and there they all are in the picture. It is a winter evening. She is busy at the tub, Billy is reading a chapter in the New Testament, but is obliged to leave off, for baby wont go to sleep, and wants to get up again and play with him; the cat and her kitten are playing, and why should not she?

I do not know how it is that poor people often get over their great troubles sooner than rich people. But I believe it is because they are obliged to do something. People who have nothing to do often nurse their troubles and cherish their sorrows. Better would it be for them and for others too if they would find some good

thing to do. They have no need to work for their own bread, but there is great need that they should do good works for the benefit of those who are in greater trouble than themselves. Doing this would soon rub off the rust from their own sorrows, and teach them to be thankful to HIM who, though he may have seen fit to deprive them of some comforts, will yet permit them to receive the blessing of them that are ready to perish, and enjoy the pleasure of causing the widow's heart to sing for joy!

A RIDE ON AN AVALANCHE.

VALANCHES are those vast masses of ice and frozen snow which hang on to the sides of an Alpine mountain. They are the terror of travellers who venture to climb over them, as it is never known when they may slip their hold and go thundering down into the chasm or valley beneath. Sometimes without any warning they have buried cottages, villages, and people, in their fall.

A gentleman, with two friends and two experienced guides, Jenni and Walter, ascended one of the high mountains, and were returning. Their path was over an avalanche. Describing what then took place, the writer says:

"Jenni is a heavy man, and marches rather slowly up a mountain, but he is thoroughly competent. We were particularly pleased with his performance in descending.

He swept down the slopes and cleared the rocks which cut the upper snows with great courage and skill. We at length reached the point at which it was necessary to quit our morning's track, and immediately afterwards got upon some steep rocks, which were rendered slippery here and there by the water which trickled over them. To our right was a broad place, which was once filled with snow, but this had been melted and refrozen, so as to expose a sloping wall of ice. We were all tied together at this time in the following order :-Jenni led, I came next, then my friend H, an intrepid mountaineer, then his friend L, and last of all the guide Walter. LL― had but little experience of the higher Alps, and was placed in front of Walter, so that any false step on his part might be instantly checked. After descending the rocks for a time, Jenni turned and asked me whether I thought it better to adhere to them or to try the ice slope to our right. I pronounced in favour of the rocks, but he seemed to misunderstand me, and turned towards the slope. I stopped him before he reached it, and said, 'Jenni, you know where you are going? the slope is pure ice.' He replied, I know it; but the ice is quite bare for a few yards only. Across this exposed portion I will cut steps, and then the snow which covers the ice will give us a footing. He cut the steps, reached the snow, and descended carefully along it-all following him, apparently in good order. After a little time he stopped,