Travellers on the continent are often struck by the contrast exhibited between two paintings which are shown in the museum at Rotterdam. The one is exceedingly poor—a mere daub. The most enthusiastic connoisseur cannot discover in it any mark of genius. The other painting is a grand work of art, almost priceless in value. Yet, strange to say, the same painter executed both—the celebrated Rembrandt. The first illustrates the commencement of his career as an artist; the other is a masterpiece, while many years of earnest, patient toil intervened.

There must be a beginning to all things, and many dear Sabbath scholars have been instrumental of good to their parents and friends. I will mention one instance of this, selected from scores which have come under notice at different times.

In a miserable home there once resided a drunken father, with one girl, his only child. Of course, he took no particular interest in her welfare, either body or soul. But some kind friend got her to attend a Sabbath School. There she was brought to know and love the Saviour, and often during the week, while attending to the house, she was known to sing the sweet hymns she had learned. This was her only comfort, for her father's bad ways made her life hard.

One day, when she was thus occupied, her father was in another room, sleeping off his drunkenness. On awaking, he heard the little maid singing—

"There is a happy land,
Far, far away."

The Lord was pleased to use these words for another awakening. The grace of God touched his heart, and he said to himself, "Yes, it must be far away for her, poor thing; it cannot be here with me." That thought came from God. It melted his frozen heart, brought him to his knees, caused him to utter strong cries for mercy, led him to ask his little daughter to explain the way of salvation, and ultimately he was enabled to rejoice in pardoning mercy.

Dear young Gleaners, may the Lord thus be pleased to bless the reading of the Little Gleaner, and the instruction imparted in the Sabbath School, first to your own soul, and then make you a similarly honoured instrument of good to others.

A. E. Realff.

Dunstable.