Many years ago, a colony came over from Europe, and settled near the town of Carlisle in Pennsylvania. Among these people was an honest and good man with his wife and a number of children. There were no churches or schools in the neighborhood at the time, and the father was compelled to keep his family at home on the Sabbath, and teach them himself to read the Bible, to sing and pray. They were a happy and pious family, and the children committed to memory a great many chapters and hymns.

In the year 1754 a dreadful war broke out between the French in Canada and the English in New York and Pennsylvania. The Indians took part with the French, and made incursions into Pennsylvania, where they plundered and burned the houses and murdered the people. They happened upon the dwelling of the family of this good man, while the wife and one of the sons were gone to a mill four miles distant, to get some corn ground. The husband, the oldest son, and two little girls, named Barbara and Regina, were at home. The Indians killed the father and son instantly; but they carried away with them the two little girls, together with many other children from the settlement, whom they compelled to walk many long miles through the woods, until they at last arrived in the Indian country. All the children were then divided out among the Indians, and compelled to work for their unfeeling masters.

Barbara was at this time 10 years old, and Regina 9. It was never known what became of Barbara; but Regina, and another little girl of two years old whom she had never seen before, were given to an old Indian woman, who was very cruel to them. She would force the children to go out into the woods to gather fruits and roots and other provisions for her; and when they did not find enough for her to eat, she would beat them in such a cruel manner, that they were sometimes nearly killed. The little girl always kept close to Regina, and when she would kneel down under a tree and repeat the prayers and hymns which her father taught her, the little girl would kneel down with her, and repeat these prayers and hymns until she got them by heart. In this cruel captivity these children remained nine long years till Regina reached the age of eighteen, and her little companion was eleven years old. Thus their hearts became knit together in a wonderful manner. O how often did they sit and weep and pray and sing together, and talk about home, and long to be free from their cruel bondage! They were particularly fond of singing one hymn which Regina's father and mother had taught her, which began with these words:

"Alone, yet not alone am I,

Though in this solitude so drear."

They constantly hoped that the Lord Jesus would some time bring them back again to their christian friends.

In 1764, the hope of these children was realized. The good Providence of God brought the English Colonel Boquet to the place where these children were in captivity. He conquered the Indians, and made them beg for peace and give up all the white captives they had taken. More than four hundred captives, mostly little boys and girls, were given up to the English, and among them were Regina and her little companion. The Colonel gave them food and clothing, and brought them to the neighborhood where they had been stolen, and published in the newspapers, that all parents who had lost their children, should some to Carlisle and claim them. Poor Regina's sorrowing mother came among other bereaved parents, to see if she could find her child. But alas, she could not find her. Regina had acquired the appearance as well as the language of the Indians. The mother went up and down among the captives, but by no efforts could she discover her long lost daugher, She wept in grief and disappointment. Col. Boquet said: "Do you recollect anything by which your children could be known?" She answered, that she recollected nothing but a hymn which she and her husband used to sing to their children, which had this verse in it:

"Alone, yet not alone am I,

Though in this solitude so drear;

I feel my Savior always nigh,

He comes the weary hours to cheer.

I am with him, and he with me,

Even here alone I cannot be."

The Colonel desired her to sing this hymn. Scarcely had the mother sung two lines of it, when Regina rushed from the crowd, began to sing it also, and threw herself into her mother's arms. They wept, for joy, and the Colonel restored the daughter to her mother.

But there were no parents or friends in search of the little girl. It is supposed they were all murdered. And thus the child clung to Regina and would not leave her. The mother, though very poor, took her home with her. And now what a blessed meeting and discovery was here brought about, and all because Regina's parents were pious and taught their children, when they were young, to fear God and sing his praise. It was a hymn that saved Regina! O mothers, teach your children to read the Bible and to sing God's praise. It may save both their souls and bodies, and your daughters will bless you for it.

How different from Regina's mother was the mother of another young person, who once lived in the State of Kentucky.

About twenty years ago, in the cabin of one of those magnificent steamers which are continually stemming the current of the mighty Mississippi between New Orleans and Louisville, lay the emaciated form of a young and fashionably educated young lady. Her pale brow, deep-seated cough and hectic flush upon her cheek, plainly told that she was in a rapid decline. She was returning from Cuba with her mother and her physician, whither she had gone in hopes that change of climate might prolong her days; but all in vain. It was evident that she could not live to reach her native city. Her end drew nigh. The flame of life flickered in the socket, and then went out.

We watched her breathing thro' the night,

Her breathing soft and low;

As from her heart the stream of life,

Came ebbing to and fro.

And still our hopes belied our fears,

Our fears our hopes belied;

We thought her dying, when she slept,

And sleeping, when she died.

But just before she died, she called her mother to her side, and said, "O mother, how wickedly you have brought me up. You had me taught to dance and to dress, to shine in the ball-room, and to mingle in fashionable circles. But you never taught me to pray, or encouraged me to read the Bible. And now if my soul is lost, you must answer for it." These last words of the dying daughter went like a dagger to the mother's heart. She burst into an agony of grief, and wringing her hands, she went out and wept bitterly. Would parents avoid that mother's anguish, they must avoid her example. The verse of a hymn, a text of Scripture, may save a child, the want of it may prove its ruin.