to his habits. After a rough but pleasant walk over bush and fallen trees, the church at length was reached. As we came up to the door a horn was sounded to summon the worshippers. In we went a primitive but remarkably clean little chapel, capable of holding from sixty to seventy persons. Everything of course was made of wood. It was built of four log walls, the crevices filled with clay. The pulpit, readingdesk, and communion-table, were all made of pine wood, simple and unstained. A stove with a blazing fire occupied the centre. When we came in six people only had assembled, three women and three men; the women enveloped in white blankets with a deep black border, coloured petticoats, and mocassins on their feet. The horn again was sounded, and soon more people began to arrive, until the congregation numbered about twenty-five, and service commenced. The morning prayers were read by the missionary, to the end of the litany; then followed a hymn and the ante-communion service. Then the sermon was preached in Chippeway from St. Paul's words in Acts ix. 6, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" After this was over Mr. Chase introduced us to the congregation, and we shook hands with several, and then off we started for the walk home. After a good dinner of smoking hot boiled pork, boiled beans, and dried apple-pie, we started again for afternoon service. It was to be held about two miles off among the Oneida Indians. To reach the school-house we had to cross the river. The current was strong and rapid, much swollen from the melting snows, and covered with large sheets of rotten ice, which were sweeping down with the current. The only mode of crossing was by a canoe, and it required dexterous paddling to avoid being swept away by the current. The canoe was pushed off, and away we went at a very acute angle with the receding shore, but with some labour the opposite shore was gained, and the current being there less strong, we paddled up again until we got opposite the place we had left, where we hauled

in and fastened the canoe; then made our way over some fifty yards or so of large blocks of ice curiously jambed together, and left by the waters on their first receding after the early freshet, when first the ice broke up. For a long distance farther there were still immense blocks of ice, lying singly, far up on the land, high and dry, and far removed from the water, twenty feet or more from its present level. At length we reached the Oneida school-house. The last part of our way lay chiefly through open land. One place we passed where sugar-boiling from the sugar-maples had been going on during the week. The trees around were all tapped, and wooden calabashes laid ready for the sap, although the frost had stopped the flow for the present. The language spoken by the Oneidas is Mohawk, and the hymns were sung in that language, but Mr. Chase read the service in English. I preached to the people, an Indian acting as interpreter. I spoke to them on the subject of the Christian yoke (Matt. xi. 29, 30). All were very attentive. We closed with prayer. The people then all filed past, shaking hands with us as they went out. About thirty-five were present in all. We reached home about 6 p.m., carrying with us two cakes of maple sugar given to us by the Indian doxtater. Thus ended this interesting Sunday among the Indians.-The Churchman's Magazine.

NOT IN VAIN.-There are a great many persons who are discouraged because the labours that they have most honestly undertaken for the good of men seem to have been utter failures. Some of our labours are failures: it is not to be supposed that we are such deft marksmen that we can strike the mark every time. But do not think that you have failed simply because you do not see the result of your work. Men are like apple trees: some apple trees ripen their fruit in July; while the fruit of other trees goes on growing, and growing, and growing, through August and September;

and in October the farmer picks it off, and then it is green and hard; and he keeps it, through November and December, and January, and into February, when the snow is knee-deep, and the tree has lost its leaves before it is thoroughly ripe. And many of you are just like these late-bearing trees: you are bearing good fruit; but it will not be ripe till you have shed your leaves and gone into your winter. So be patient!

If there was ever a man who seemed to spend his life for nothing, it was Henry Martyn-a man of an exquisite nature, great power, and a sweet and loving disposition. Taking the highest honours at the university, and having the best prospects in the Church, he was led by the Spirit of God to consecrate himself to the cause of foreign missions. For that object he sacrificed that which was dearer to him than life; for she to whom he was affianced declined to go with him. He forsook father, and mother, and native land, and love itself, and went, an elegant and accomplished scholar, among the Persians, and spent a few years almost without an apparent conversion. Still he laboured on, patient and faithful, until, seized with a fever, he staggered. And the last record that he made in his journal was, that he sat under the orchard trees and sighed for that land where there should be sickness and suffering no more. The record closes, he dies, and a stranger marks his grave. A worldly man would say, Here was an instance of mistaken zeal and enthusiasm; here was a man that might have produced a powerful effect on the Church and in his own country, and built up a happy home, and been respected and honoured; but, under the influence of a strange fanaticism, he went abroad, and sickened, and died, and that was the last of him." The last of him! Henry Martyn's life was the seed-life of more noble souls perhaps than the life of any other man that ever lived. Scores and scores of ministers in England and America, who have brought into the Church hundreds and thousands of souls, and multitudes of men in heathen lands, all over the world, have derived inspiration and courage from the eminently

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fruitful, but apparently wasted and utterly thrown away, life of Henry Martyn. And are there not some of you, that are desponding because you do not see the fruit of your labours, will receive consolation from, and be revived by, such an instance as this?

How hungry,

HOLY THOUGHTS. empty, and straitened on every side is the soul of man, in the abundance and fulness of all outward things, till it come to Christ! The weary motions of a restless soul, like those of a river, cannot be at rest till they pour themselves into Christ, the ocean of blessedness (Eph. v. 27). He chooses us, not because we were, but that He might make us, lovely. He passed by us when we lay in ruin, and said unto us, Live; and that was the time of love (Ezek. xvi. 6). He expects nothing from us, and yet bestows Himself and all that He has upon us! Our poverty cannot enrich Him, and yet He made Himself poor to enrich us. (2 Cor. viii. 9; 1 Cor. iii. 22; Eph. iii. 8.) Hence it is that saints never weary in the study of the love of Christ, because new wonders are eternally rising out of Him; He is a deep which no line of any understanding, angelic or human, can fathom.-Flavel.

HINDOO WEDDINGS.-February is the great month for weddings, and many festivities were going on. One day we were invited to two. Of the first, a Brahmin's wedding, I will say nothing, having heard that the native gentleman who took us there incurred blame from his people on that account. The afternoon wedding was to be celebrated at the house of the Hon. Premabhai Hemabhai. He is a Jain; but the Government requires all Hindoos to conform to their national law respecting marriage, and therefore he was obliged to have the aid of a Brahmin in certain parts of the ceremony. This was to be a very grand affair, and about 2,000 persons were expected. We first went to see the bride

groom's procession pass, from the balcony of a friend's house. It was very long, and somewhat straggling, extending more than the whole length of the street, and the attempt at music was nothing more than loud noise. One would suppose that Hindoos have "no music in their souls," which is certainly not the case, though it may be undeveloped. Here and there in the procession was a richly caparisoned horse, covered with gorgeous brocade, on which was seated a small boy, likewise splendidly decorated; he was doubtless the son and heir of a family, the male members of which walked beside him. At length came the bridegroom, gaily dressed, and supported by his friends; he was closely covered with a golden veil. We then hurried on to the place of meeting, and found the house crowded with male guests, who, to my surprise, were being driven out into the garden somewhat unceremoniously. This was to clear the reception-rooms for the bride's procession, which was approaching. They speedily filled the large hall, seated themselves in native fashion on the floor, as close together as possible, and availed themselves of the rare opportunity to indulge in social converse simultaneously, producing a volume of discordant sound which was somewhat overpowering to my unaccustomed ears. being perfectly unable to silence the assembly-which indeed would have been almost cruel under the circumstances-kindly withdrew us to an upper room, where we had full opportunity of observing the busy scene which was passing around, in the illuminated garden. After a time the special ceremonies of the occasion began. The bridegroom and his friends knocked at the door and claimed his bride, a young girl closely covered with a sari, but without ornaments: she was herself the jewel. A number of ceremonies were performed, when he had overcome feigned opposition, and effected an entrance. A Brahmin took a leading part in these; he was an unprepossessing old man, and took care to secure rupees, in the midst of each critical part, before he would complete it. There was nothing in any one indicating to our

Our host

minds reverence or devotion; they were intended to symbolise the part which was to be taken by each in their domestic duties. The bridegroom placed presents of clothing on the bride, and secured a return from her family, by holding firmly the robe of the mother until she bestowed something on him; that not being considered sufficiently costly, he refused it with an expression of contempt. After more than two hours, most of the company withdrew; but each expected to receive, on departing, a cocoanut from the bride's father, and one from the bridegroom's ; 4,000 of this fruit were thus distributed.-Mary Carpenter.

THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON.—It was said that when the mother of Washington was asked how she had formed the character of her son, she replied that she had endeavoured early to teach him three things-OBEDIENCE, DILIGENCE, and TRUTH. No better advice can be given to any parent. Teach your child to obey. Let it be the first lesson. You can hardly begin too soon. One of the most successful parents that I have known said that this point was usually settled between him and his children before they were three months old. But it requires constant care to keep up the habit of obedience, and especially to do it in such a way as not to break down the strength of a child's character. Teach your child to be diligent. The habit of being always employed is a great safeguard through life, as well as essential to the culture of almost every virtue. Nothing can be more foolish than the idea which some parents have, that it is not respectable to set their children to work. Play is a good thing. Innocent recreation is an employment, and a child may learn to be diligent in that as well as in other things; but let him learn early to be useful. As to truth, it is the one essential thing; let everything else be sacrificed rather than that without it, what dependence can you place on your child? And be sure to do nothing yourself which may countenance any species of prevarication or

falsehood. Yet how many parents do teach their children the first lessons of deception.

TALENT AND TACT.-Talent is something; but tact is everything. Talent is serious, sober, grave, and respectable; tact is all that, and more too. It is not a sixth sense, but it is the life of all the five. It is the open eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the lively touch; it is the interpreter of all riddles, the surmounter of all difficulties, the remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places and at all times; it is useful in solitude, for it shows a man his way into the world; it

is useful in society, for it shows him his way through the world. Talent is power, tact is skill; talent is weight, tact is momentum; talent knows what to do, tact knows how to do it; talent makes a man respectable, tact will make him respected; talent is wealth, tact is ready money. For all the practical purposes of life tact carries it against talent ten to one.

APELLES.-AS Apelles the painter much lamented if he should escape but one day without drawing some picture or line so ought a Christian man to be sorry if that any day should pass without some good work or exercise.

"COME UNTO ME."

LORD, dost Thou bid me come to Thee,
Weak as I am, and sin-defiled?
Wilt Thou my pitying Helper be,
And kindly speak in accents mild?

Ah! even now I feel Thee near;

Thy grace my guilty soul hath stirred; "Come unto Me " dispels each fear,Sweet invitation of Thy word!

"Come unto Me!" I would obey, Whilst Thou art waiting to receive; My burden at Thy feet I lay;

Lord, help me humbly to believe.

"Come unto Me!" Thou, Thou alone The healing, saving power canst give; My utter helplessness I own;

Oh bid the trembling sinner "live!"

"Come unto Me!" Thy love how great

No mortal tongue can e'er express,
Which saw me in my wretched state,
And sought the wanderer to bless.

"Come unto Me!" No more astray,
I turn my Saviour to behold;
I am the Way:
Oh lead me to Thy heavenly fold.

I hear Thy voice,

وو

TRUE POETRY.

WHO says that fictions only and false hair

Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty?

Is all good structure in a winding stair? May no lines pass except they do their duty,

Not to a true, but painted chair? Is it not verse, except enchanted groves And sudden arbours shadow coarsespun lines?

Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves?

Must all be veil'd, while he that reads divines,

Catching the sense at two re

moves?

Shepherds are honest people; let them sing:

Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime;

I envy no man's nightingale or spring; Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme,

Who plainly say, MY GOD, MY
KING.

HERBERT.