on poor Tom are beautiful, and doubtless it is a fine thing to be able to swim anywhere, and to dash up and down through the deep waters; but after all, is not my humble home, down among the rocks the safest? Has not the Great Master of the seas given me my full share of blessings, though I must live in the very depths of the seas, and creep over the sands and the rocks? I will be thankful, humble, and contented."

Wise Mrs. Lobster ! How much more happy we should all be, if we could feel that God has meted out the bounds of our habitation, and in wisdom given to each the lot which is best for him! We will not envy those above us. They meet with hooks and dangers that we know not of; and if we are true and faithful in our lot and condition, we shall be rewarded as fully, as if we could gambol and play in all the fashions and glories of earth!

USE YOUR EYES ARIGHT. THERE was an Italian Bishop who had struggled through great difficulties without repining, and who met with much opposition in the discharge of his episcopal function, without ever betraying the least impatience. An intimate friend of his, who highly admired those virtues, which he thought it impossible to imitate, one day asked the prelate if he could communicate the secret of being always easy. "Yes," replied the old man, "I can teach you my secret, and with great facility; It consists of nothing more than in making a right use of my eyes." His friend begged him to explain himself. "Most willingly,"

re

turned the Bishop. "In whatsoever state I am, I first of all look up to heaven, and I remember that my principle business here is to get there. I then look down upon the earth, and call to mind how small a space I shall occupy in it, when I come to be interred. I then look abroad in the world, and observe what multitudes there are, who are

in all respects more unhappy than myself. Thus I learn where true happiness is placed, where all our cares must end, and how very little reason I have to repine or to complain."

NO PLACE FOR THE BOYS. DOES it not seem as if, in some houses. there is actually no place f the boys? We do not mean the little boys-there is always room for them; they are petted and caressed; there is a place for them on papa's knee, and at mamma's footstool, if not in her arms; there are loving words, and many, often too many, indulgences. But the class we speak of now are the schoolboys, great, noisy, romping fellows, who tread on your dress, and upset your workbasket, and stand in your light, and whistle, and drum, and shout, and ask questions, and contradict.

So what is to be done with them? Do they not want to be loved and cherished now, as dearly as they were in that well-remembered time when they were the little ones, and were indulged, petted, and caressed? "But they are so noisy, and they wear out the carpet with their thick boots, and it is so quiet when they are gone," says the tired mother and the fastidious sister, and the nervous aunt; "anything for peace' sake," and away go the boys to "loaf" on street corners, and listen to the profane and coarse language wicked men, or to the unsafe ice, or to the railroad station, or the wharves, or the other common places of rendezvous of those who have nothing to do, or no place to stay.

But it is argued that there are few boys who care to stay in the house after school, and it is better they should play in the open air-all of which is true. We argue for those dull days and stormy days and evenings, all evenings, in which they wish to stay in, or ought to be kept in, and in which, if kept in, they make themselves and everybody else uncomfortable. We protest

against the usages of those homes where the mother is busy with her sewing, or her baby, and the father is absorbed with the newspaper in the evening, which he never reads aloud, and the boys must "sit still and not make a noise," or go immediately to bed. They hear the merry voices of other boys in the streets, and long to be with them; home is a dull place; they will soon be a

little older, and then, say they, "we will go out and see for ourselves what there is outside which we are forbidden to enjoy." We protest against the usages of those homes where the boys are driven out because their presence is unwelcome, and are scolded when they come in, or checked, hushed, and restrained at every outburst of merriment.

THE DEATH-BED HE was pre-eminently one of those who, through fear of death, are all their lifetime subject to bondage.

It appears that a clergyman, Mr. Winstanley, was the main instrument in bringing his mind to a quiet trust. In answer to the anxious question, written to him by the dying moralist, "What shall I do to be saved?" Mr. Winstanley wrote:-"I say to you, in the language of the Baptist, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.'" That passage had been often read by him, and had made but a slight impression; but now, pressed home by the gracious Spirit, it went straight to his heart. He interrupted the friend who was reading the letter: "Does he say so? Read it again." And he then earnestly begged that the writer might be sent for, that he might hear from him a confirmation of the truth. The state of Mr. Winstanley's health made an interview impossible; but he wrote enforcing the truth. The narrative shows that the Doctor had comfort in the realization of this great truth. little before he died he turned with great earnestness (to his physician): 'Doctor," he said, "you are a worthy man, and my friend; but I am afraid you are not a Christian. What can

A

I do better for you than offer up in your presence a prayer to the great

OF DR. JOHNSON.

God that you may become a Christian in my sense of the word?" Instantly he put up a fervent prayer for him. When he had finished, he caught hold of his hand with great earnestness, and cried, "Doctor, you do not say 'Amen.'" The doctor looked foolish, but, after a pause, cried "Amen." Johnson said, "My dear doctor, believe a dying man; there is no salvation but in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God."Leisure Hour.

LUTHER'S PRAYER FOR
MELANCTHON.

ON a certain occasion a message was
sent to Luther to inform him that
Melancthon was dying. He at once
hastened to his sick bed, and found
him presenting the usual premoni-
tory symptoms of death. He
mournfully bent over him, and,
sobbing, gave utterance of a sorrow-
ful exclamation. It roused Melanc-
thon from his stupor-he looked into
the face of Luther, and said, "O,
Luther, is this you? Why don't
you let me depart in peace?"
"We
can't spare you yet, Philip," was
the reply. And turning round, he
threw himself upon his knees, and
wrestled with God for his recovery,
for upwards of an hour. He went
from his knees to the bed, and took
his friend by the hand. Again he

said, "Dear Luther, why don't you let me depart in peace ? "No, no, Philip, we cannot spare you yet," was the reply. He then ordered some soup, and, when pressed to take it, he declined, again saying, "Dear Luther, why not let me go home and be at rest?" "We can

not spare you yet, Philip," was the reply. He then added, "Philip, take this soup, or I will excommunicate you." He took the soup; he commenced to grow better; he soon regained his wonted health, and laboured for years afterward in the cause of the reformation. And when Luther returned home, he said to his wife with joy," God gave me my brother Melancthon back, in direct answer to prayer."

DEATH OF THE VENERABLE BEDE.

THERE was a genuine piety among many of the Catholic priests of the dark ages, though clouded often by superstition. They saw through a glass, darkly, but still trusted in Christ as a Saviour, and aspired to usefulness in His service. The Rev. Achilles Gannt, in a lecture on the Bible, delivered at Cork, Ireland, paid the following tribute to the venerable Bede, the translator of the Bible into Saxon.

It was his happy distinction to die in the very act of translating the Word of God. The rays of the setting sun are still lingering on the monastery of Jarrow, and there, in his last hour, lies the venerable man, dictating feebly to his amanuensis.

"There remains now but one chapter," said the anxious scribe, "but it seems very hard for you to speak."

"Nay, it is very easy," Bede replied; "take your pen, write quickly."

"And now, father," says the monk, eagerly penning the words from bis quivering lips, "now one sentence is wanting."

Bede dictates it.

"It is finished," exclaims the scribe.

"It is finished," echoes the departing saint. "Raise my head. Let me sit in the place where I have been wont to pray. "Now, glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost," and while thus speaking he fell asleep.

ANECDOTE OF A SHARK.

IN the United Service Museum(Whitehall Yard) are exhibited the "jaws of a shark," wide open, enclosing a tin box. The history of this strange exhibition is as follows:

"A King's ship on her way to the West Indies, fell in with, and chased a suspicious looking craft, which had all the appearance of a slaver. During the pursuit the chase threw something overboard. She was subsequently captured, and taken to Port Royal to be tried as a slaver. In the absence of the ship's papers, and other proofs, the slaver was not only in a fair way to escape condemnation, but her captain was anticipating the recovery of pecuniary damages against his captor, for illegal detention.

While the subject was under discussion, a vessel came into port, which had followed closely in the track of the chase above described. She had caught a shark; and in its stomach was found a tin box which contained the slaver's papers. Upon the strength of this evidence the slaver was condemned. The written account is attached to the box.

fanciful: to live in the shop of an apothecary: or have a medical student always in attendance. But be soberly and prudently attentive to the body. Rise early. Take proper exercise. Observe and avoid whatever disagrees with your system. Never overburden nature. Be moderate in your eating and drinking -the Board slays more than the Sword!-Jay.

INFLUENCE OF FAMILY PRAYER.

was

A FEW years ago, a man travelling in Ireland, being benighted, opened a cabin door, and requested permission to lodge there, which granted. The poor man who inhabited the house was, according to his usual custom, reading a chapter of the Bible to his family. When the stranger was seated, he resumed his reading, and, having prayed, the family retired to rest. In the morning the same thing again took place, which seemed to attract the attention of the stranger. On rising from their knees, the stranger thanked his kind host for his hospitality, and informed him that he had travelled into that part of the country in order to attend a fair, for the wicked purpose of passing bad money; that he had brought with him base coin to the amount of four pounds; that this was the first time he had taken up such a practice, but that what he had heard in the cabin had made such an impression on his mind that he had resolved it should be the last. He then took out of his pocket a small bag containing the counterfeits, and threw it into the fire.-Old Jonathan.

PITY.

WHEN thou seest misery in thy brother's face, let him see mercy in thine eye; the more the oil of mercy is poured on him by thy pity, the more the oil in thy cruse shall be increased by thy pity.-Enchiridion.

A LITERAL FAITH.

MRS. Mason, who was a missionary among the Karens for eighteen years, was usually called mamma by her pupils. A little Karen boy once addressed to her this short letter, no doubt in the full belief that he was employing a strong Christian argument:

"Dear Mamma,-The Bible says, 'Ask, and ye shall receive.' I read so in the holy book of Matthew. Please send me a knife!"

Mrs. Mason rewarded the little fellow's faith by giving him the object he so much desired.

PROMPTNESS IN DUTIES. THERE is always a joy in duties performed, and promptness in the execution heightens that joy. To wait and look on a business we ought to do at once, enervates and disheartens; to arise and do it immediately, strengthens and enlarges the heart. Delay begets hesitancy and timidity; direct performance brings zeal and courage. They that wait upon the Lord renew their strength; but they that postpone till to-morrow present duties, are weaker for them to-morrow than to-day. Promptness in duties, then, gives greater strength for new duties. Enduring hardness as a good soldier in one campaign, qualities the Christian for more manly feats in the next. We grow on food and exercise, morally, the same as we do physically. Christian promptitude helps develop that noble, full stature of character and life which the Gospel enjoinsgives grace to discipleship, and energy and efficiency to the churches.

A GOOD NAME.

MUCH of my influence, says Dr. Livingstone, in his Travels in South Africa, depended upon the good name given by the Bakwains; and that I secured only through a long course of tolerably good conduct. No one ever gains much influence in

this country without purity and uprightness. The acts of a stranger are keenly scrutinized by both young and old; and seldom is the judgment pronounced, even by the heathen, unfair or uncharitable. I have heard women speaking in favour of a white man, because he was pure, and never was guilty of any immorality. Had he been, they would have known it; and, untutored heathen though they be, would have despised him in consequence.

THE KING AND THE POTTER. IN 1588, Henry III., then King of France, finding he could no longer withstand the clamour for Palissy's execution, and reluctant to sacrifice the old potter, whom he had known and respected from his boyhood, visited him in prison. "My poor Master Bernard," said the King, "I

am so pressed by the Guise party and my people, that I have been compelled, in spite of myself, to imprison these two poor women and you. They must be burnt to-morrow; and you, too, if you will not be converted. "Sire," replied the fearless old man, "you have often said that you feel pity for me; but it is I who pity you, and who have said, 'I am compelled.' That is not speaking like a king! These girls and I, who have part in the kingdom of heaven, we will teach you to talk royally The Guisarts, all your people, and yourself, cannot compel a potter to bow down to images of clay!" Not many months afterwards, the two fair girls were led to the stake, singing praises to God, as they received their crowns of martyrdom. A year later, in 1559, in his 81st year, Bernard Palissy, the potter died in the Bastile.-The Art of Doing our Best

THE HOLY

OH, Book of sweetness! Lord, my heart

Would suck each word and honey gain,

Precious for grief in any part;
To clear the mind, and ease in pain.

O Book that helps the reader's eyes,
The well to cleanse thy sin it shows,
And make unto salvation wise,
Which he that hath the Spirit knows.
O Book of books, removing doubt,
When God its Author speaks to me;
Thy words do search and find me
out,

And I, my God, in them find Thee. GEORGE HERBERT.

DEATH!

Death is the Christian's final strife

His battles then are o'er; Death is the portal into life, Where he shall die no more.

SCRIPTURES.

Death is the rending of the vail, Which hides the holy place; Death is the channel to reveal, His long-sought Father's face. Death is the sinking of his sun,

Upon his mortal way; Death is the glorious morn begun, Of an eternal day.

Death is the severance of his soul,

From the clay fabric riv'n; Death reunites him unto all

His happy ones in heav'n.
Death gives the body to the tomb,
Beneath the sod to lie;
Death wings the spirit to its home,
Above the stars on high.

Death seals the sentence of the law,
By which the sinner dies;
Death ends the Christian's griefs
below,

With Christ in Paradise.