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He sings a great deal, and with much variety: the following are some words which were caught "E eye at wangewah-wandeliah chiango wandego mangenny wakey angoul barre boa lah barrema." He throws the spear ninety yards with great force and exactness. In counting the numerals, he cannot reckon beyond four; viz.

Where is the child that deserves such a name? Nowhere; for there is none righteous, no, not one. Angoul belonged not to Mahomedan parents, but to those called Christians; yet the Christians in Syria are almost as ignorant as heathens. Angoul had been taught to spin silk; for her father had a garden of mulberry-trees, and a quantity of silk worms.

But a few years ago, a good Syrian, named Assaad, opened a school for little girls as well as for boys. It was easy to get the little boys to come; but the mothers did not like to send their little girls. They laughed, and said, "Who ever heard of a girl going to school? Girls need not learn to read." The first girl who attended Assaad's school was named Angoul, which means "Angel."

She returns home at noon through the burning sun, and comes to school again to stay till five. Then it is cool and pleasant, and Angoul spins by her mother's side in the lovely garden of fruit-trees before the house. Has she not learned to sing many a sweet verse about the garden above, and the heavenly husbandman?

As she watches the budding vine, she can think now of Him who said, "I am the true vine." As she sits beneath the olive-tree, she can call to mind the words, "I am like a green olive-tree in the house of my God." Angoul is growing like an angel, if she takes delight in meditating on the word of God. Extracted chiefly from the Rev. George Fisk's "Pastor's Memorial," and Kinnear's Travels.

Angoul has not been scorched by the sun, like many Syrian girls, because she has sat in-doors at her wheel during the heat of the day. She is dressed in a loose red gown, and a scarlet cap with a yellow handkerchief twisted round it like a turban. At school Angoul is very attentive, both while she is reading in her Testament, and while she is writing on her tin slate with a reed dipped in ink.