were in the habit of throwing their children to the crocodiles, and where these mothers were wont to weep and cry if the crocodiles did not devour their children before their eyes.  Think what a dreadful religion that must be, which makes mothers so hard-hearted.  Did you ever take any corn or Indian meal and throw it to the chickens?  And what did these chickens do?  Did they not come around you and eat it?  Well, just in this way the crocodiles would come near those mothers, and devour their children.  Here is a picture of a mother throwing her child to a crocodile.

[Illustration]

I am glad to tell you, that the British have put a stop to the sacrifice of children at that place; but mothers continue to destroy their children elsewhere, and will continue to destroy them until Christians send the Gospel to them.  It is not improbable that vast numbers of children are annually destroyed in the Ganges.  Mothers sacrifice them, in consequence of vows which they have made.  When the time to sacrifice them has come, they take them down to the river, and encourage them to go out so far that they are taken away by the stream, or they push them off with their own hands.

I just remarked, that mothers will continue to destroy their children until the Gospel is sent to them.  That the Gospel does prevent such things, the following circumstance will show.  Several years ago, a missionary lady went from New England to India.  As she was walking out one morning, on the banks of the Ganges, she saw a heathen mother weeping.  She went up to her, sat down by her side, put her hand into hers, and asked what was the matter with her.  “I have just been making a basket of flags,” said she, “and putting my infant in it—­pushing it off into the river, and drowning it.  And my gods are very much pleased with me, because I have done it.”  After this missionary lady had heard all she had to say, she told her that her gods were no gods; that the only true God delights not in such sacrifices, but turns in horror from them; and that, if she would be happy here and hereafter, she must forsake her sins, and pray to Jesus Christ, who died to save sinners like herself.  This conversation was the means of the conversion of that mother, and she never again destroyed any of her infants.

Such is the power of the blessed Gospel.  And what the Gospel has done once, it can do again.  If Christians will send it to them, with the blessing of God, the time will soon come when heathen mothers will no more destroy their children.  And have you nothing to do in this great work, my dear children?  When you grow up, cannot you go and tell them of the Saviour?  Here is a very pretty hymn about a heathen mother throwing her child to a crocodile.

    See that heathen mother stand
    Where the sacred currents flow,
    With her own maternal hand,
    ’Mid the waves her infant throw.

    Hark, I hear the piteous scream—­
    Frightful monsters seize their prey,
    Or the dark and bloody stream
    Bears the struggling child away.