mother's spirit, and to burn gold paper, to supply her with money in the other world. While her relations were busily occupied in their heathen ceremonies, Been sat silent and alone. Soon afterwards, her father, who cared not for her, sold her to a Chinaman to be his wife, for forty dollars.

Miss Grant heard of her sad fate, and often longed to see her, but did not know where to find her. One evening, as she was paying visits in her palanquin, she saw a pair of bright black eyes looking through a hedge, and she felt sure that they were her own Been's. She stopped, and calling the girl, saluted her affectionately. She was glad she had found out where Been lived, as she would now be able to pay her a visit.

Soon she called upon her, in her own dwelling;—a poor little hut in the midst of a sugar plantation. She brought as a present, a New Testament in English, and in large print. Been appeared delighted.

"Do you remember how to read it?" inquired Miss Grant.

"Yes, how could I forget?" Been sweetly replied.

"Well then, read," said Miss Grant.

Been read, "I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep."

"Do you understand?" inquired the lady. "Yes," said Been, and she translated the words into Malay.

As Miss Grant was rising to depart, she observed a hen gathering her brood under her wings.

"Of what does that remind you, Been?"

"I know," said the poor girl; "I remember what I learnt at school;" and then in her broken English, she repeated the words: "As a hen gaderet her chickens under her wings, so would I have gadered de, but dou wouldest not."

At this moment, Been's husband came in. The girl was glad, for she wanted Miss Grant to ask him as a great favour, to allow her to spend next Sunday at the school. The husband consented. There was a joyful meeting indeed, on that Sunday, between Been, and Chun, and Han; nor was their affectionate teacher the least joyful of the company.

Extracted from "Rev. Howard Malcolm's Travels," and from the "History of the Society for promoting Female Education in the East," and from "Tomline's "Missionary Journal."

SIBERIA.

THIS is a name which makes people shiver, because it reminds them of the cold. It is a name which makes the Russians tremble, because it reminds them of banishment, for the emperor often sends those who offend him to live in Sibera.

Yet Siberia is not an ugly country, such as Tartary. It is not one dead flat, but it contains mountains, and forests, and rivers. Neither is Siberia a country in which nothing will grow ; in some parts there is wheat, and where wheat will not grow barley will, and where barley will not grow turnips will. Yet there are not many corn fields in Siberia, for very few people live there. In the woods you will find blackberries, and wild roses, like those in England; and red berries, as well as black berries, and lilies as well

as roses.

Still it must be owned that Siberia is a very cold country; for the snow is not melted till June, and it begins to fall again in September ; so there are only two whole months without snow; they are July and August.

INHABITANTS.- -The Russians are the masters of Siberia, and they have built several large towns there. But these towns are very far apart, and there are many wild tribes wandering about the country.

One of these tribes is the Ostyaks. Their houses are in the shape of boxes, for they are square with flat roofs. There is a door, but get in at it, unless you

you must stoop low to

are a very little child; and there is a window, with fish skin instead of light. There is a chimney, too, and a blazing fire of logs in a hole in the ground. There is a trough, too, instead of a dining-table, and out of it the whole family eat, and even the dogs sometimes. The house is not divided into rooms, but into stalls, like those of a stable; and deer-skins are spread in the stalls, and they are the beds; each person sits and sleeps in his own stall, on his own deerskin, except when the family gather round the fire, and sitting on low stools, warm themselves, and talk together.

In one of these snug corners, an old woman was seen, quite blind, yet sewing all day, and threading her needle by the help of her tongue. She wore a veil of thick cloth over her head, as all the Ostyak women do, and as she did not need light, she hid her head completely under it.

PT. I.

R

But though the Ostyaks are poor, they possess a great treasure in their dogs, for these creatures are as useful as horses, and much more sensible. They need no whip to make them go, and no bridle to turn them the right way; it is enough to tell them when to set out, and to stop, or to turn, to move faster, or more slowly. These dogs are white, spotted with black; the hair on their bodies is short, but long on their handsome curling tails. They draw their masters in sledges, and are yoked in pairs. There are some large sledges, in which a man can lie down in comfort: to draw such a sledge twelve dogs are necessary; but there are small sledges in which a poor Ostyak can just manage to crouch, and two dogs can draw it. When the dogs are to be harnessed, they are

not caught, as horses are, but only called. Yet they do not like work better than horses like it, and when they first set out they howl, but grow quiet after a little while.

The driver is sometimes cruel to these poor dogs, and corrects them for the smallest fault, by throwing a stone at them, or the great club he holds in his hand, or at least a snowball: if a hungry dog but stoop down to pick up a morsel of food on the road, he is punished in this manner. Yet it must be owned, that the