by right, yet nothing is more certain than, when the Lord wills, you will quit the stewardship, and leave everything behind you. And if you do not do your duty-that is, if you do not use the things of God's estate for the purposes He intended-if you "abuse" the world rather than use it; if you live for yourself and your own ends rather than with an honest eye to the business of your Master in heaven-then you will prove an unfaithful steward, and, discharged by Death the messenger, you will go out yonder, a ruined man, an eternal pauper !

As they reclined at ease, and watched the changing colours tint the varied landscapes, the friends of the rich man talked of the beauty of the estate. In what excellent keeping it seemed to be! how trim the vineyards looked, how well banked up were the olive trees upon the side of the hill! "What a capital steward!" said

one.

But there was there, by gracious invitation, one of the lord's chief tenants. To him the rich man turned: "Do you think he is as good as he appears?" and plainly asked, he plainly answered : That the steward was wasting his lord's goods; and ample proof was given, so ample that it was conclusive. Next morning the unfaithful steward is told that he must furnish his accounts, wind up his books, "For thou mayest be no longer steward.”

You observe, he makes no attempt to justify himself; not a word; he is speechless; he knows his lord holds the proofs. He leaves the audience, "not steward "-"a beggar." Now follow him; and what I want you to note is the fact that what he did was but part and parcel of the rest of his life.

He

That which he had dealt with was property; the Lord Jesus calls it "unrighteous mammon.' Mammon that made for unrighteousness. never used it; there is no record that Jesus ever possessed a single piece of money, and although He had the wealth of grateful thousands, whom His word had healed, at His full command, He never drew upon their open purses to help the needy. He feared to pauperise, to demoralise, with money; for that is just what money does. It demoralises men, it puffs them up, it makes them selfish, it cheats them into fancied independence, it saps their trust in God, it kills their faith, and then their soul is lost. "How hardly shall a rich man enter into the Kingdom of heaven."

And yet, it is much easier to be righteous and honest in money matters than it is to be in dealing with principles and elements of character, which is property of the most valuable kind. A man would scorn to steal a sovereign from his friend, but he has no compunction in handing on a defamatory story which is sure, more or less, to be untrue.

You would deal with scrupulous honesty with

a commission with which you were charged. You would not tamper with it, buying less than you ought, and charging for the full; or purchasing an inferior quality, and lying about the price. These things never would even suggest themselves to you; but you are far less scrupulous about your private motives. You will deal with yourself with a rascality and chicanery at which, if I could only describe yourself to yourself, you would be appalled.

The steward did not begin to be a bad man when driven to extremities; he was already a bad man. You hear it behind his very words, "I cannot dig." If he had not been a lazy fellow, he never could have said that. "To beg I am ashamed." He had too long lived for appearances now to appear what he was a beggar. So he, to curry favour with the farmers, and be permitted to hang about the neighbourhood, tampered with the rent roll, and lowered the rents. One man he let off fifty per cent.; another, twenty per cent.

It was only what he had been doing for years. "My master's income," said he to himself, "is quite enough-far more than he can spend, and why should I slave, morning, noon, and night, to make more money for him?" So he had "let things go," as he termed it; and now he only followed the same course in another way.

You, my reader, are doing the same thing? You say, God does not exact such a large rental from you; you need not weary yourself with watchings and prayers; He does not want everybody to be Sunday-school teachers, and trouble themselves to lead lambs to His fold. And what nonsense! that poor man or woman may give one-tenth, but if I gave one-tenth, why, it would be far, far more than anybody else gives for God's service. "How much owest thou unto my lord?" "Onetenth." "Take thy bill, sit down quickly," say all these unfaithful stewards, "and write onehundredth."

I suppose he succeeded for a time, and so will you, until a more honest steward filled his place; and then it came to his lord's ears, and "he commended the unjust steward because he had done cleverly." He did not praise him for his deed, but he said what you and I have said many a time, "What a clever trick!" The Lord Jesus added, "For the children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light."

And why? Because they act up to their principles and make the most of what they have; this world, their generation, marks the limits of their dealings; they work for the near present. You see it all round about you. There is a man who "rises early, and late takes rest," always at his business, his eye always open to the main chance, and that is with him making money. I do not think that he actually loves money, though

many do; but, having no real belief in the next world, and the God Who there reigns, he has a sort of fear of being left destitute. He has no trust in God; but he longs to have enough to be out of harm's way, so he works hard and anxiously. God intended that in, and through, and by the discipline of work a man might gain true riches; he might give his soul a character which will be the only thing he will take with him out of the world, but he never thinks of this.

God set Sunday, at the end of every six working days, for him to reckon what his soul had gained or lost, to count his "true riches;" but Sunday comes, and probably he reads his newspaper, and if his body is not at his place of business, his mind is! and when he meets his friends, his talk is still business. How he meditates on it, how he schemes, how he sacrifices health, comfort, leisure, everything for his business!

Wise, very wise in his generation, wise in this world; and if this were the only world, you might write on his tombstone, "Here lies the body and soul of a wise man; he left a million;" to which possibly the reader might have added, "which his son is spending to his own swift ruin and the damnation of his companions."

Oh! that you would but give one-tenth of the same energy, and cleverness, and thought, and work, and effort to your soul, fitting it for the presence of God, cleansing it, and teaching it holy and righteous habits, pluming its wings for its upward flight, and training it to look for the coming Jesus. Oh! that you would only do this, with the zest which you give to reading Shakespeare, or gathering up bits of secular knowledge, or planning for pleasure, or doing your housekeeping. Then you would not be an "unfaithful steward."

For you are a steward-this is God's estate. He has given you time, sense, opportunity,

health, His own word, and the vast gift of His own Holy Spirit. What are you doing with these, your Lord's goods? Now the unfaithful steward did not ruthlessly defraud his lord, he did not steal to enrich himself, for when the end came he had nothing. What he did was, he wasted, he did not utilise. He did not make the most for his master. He was unfaithful in that which is least.

You do no harm, you say, you keep the letter of the Commandments. You are not dishonest, or untruthful, or impure. No more was the unfaithful steward. But do you use what God has given you for the purpose for which He intended it ?—your mind for understanding His work; your eyes for watching for His coming; your ears for listening for His voice; your knees for prayer; your feet for running the way of His Commandments; your tongue for telling His truth; your body the battle-field for overcoming His enemies; your sympathies for His people and your energies for His Church; your money for helping His poor, His church, His House; your soul for loving Him your spirit, a tabernacle for His sacred presence; your whole body, soul, and spirit, yourself, a servant and slave of Jesus Christ; doing your work in life because He has given it to be done, with both hands, earnestly; doing it under His eye, and for His approval-this is being a "faithful steward."

;

And if this be your life, then you are making "to yourself friends of the mammon of unrighteousness," and when you close your eyes to this world, you will find those of God's people whom you have helped, and been the honoured instrument of leading to the other shore, waiting for you on the further side. They will take you to the Master, witnesses of your faithful stewardship; He will say to you, "Well done, good servant, well done, enter in."

So shall "they receive you into everlasting habitations."

I

T was

a pretty as well as interesting scene. The large room was brightly lighted, the tables were decked with lovely flowers; while the many-coloured fruits and salads and confectionery, which in addition to the coffee and solid viands, made up the feast, were certainly more picturesque than the tea and cake, and bread and butter, which an English assembly of the class before us would have enjoyed. For the guests we had been invited to join at supper on this occasion at Craven Hall, were 250 poor foreigners, mostly

French, but including some Belgians and Italians, all residing in or near the district of Soho. There was a French neatness and tastefulness noticeable in the women's dress, even among the poorest of the company, and some were very poor. That the entertainment was a feeding of the hungry was evidenced by the serious and engrossed faces and demeanour of the guests, which made us feel quite scrupulous about engaging them in conversation during their repast. They were not, however, too much absorbed to notice the flowers. "One might imagine that this beautiful plant

was placed here for my special benefit," said a very poorly dressed woman, whose well-covered plate was almost overshadowed by a splendid hothouse scarlet geranium. She told me she was a widow, living with a married sister, and they earned their bread by lining fancy baskets with silk and satin. She spoke with childlike gratification of the feast now provided, and of the summer treat annually given to the poor foreigners of London, at the country place of some wealthy friend of the London City Mission, which carries on a special work among this class by means of a Frenchspeaking missionary, who for twenty years past has laboured earnestly, and with great blessing, among them.

From the crowded supper-room we all adjourned to a lecture-hall below, which was gaily decorated with flowers and flags. Here addresses in French, or in English translated into French by Mr. B-, the foreigners' missionary, were given, all, in one way and another, setting forth the Gospel of the grace of God. These addresses were interspersed with instrumental music, and a few

sweet songs. The first of these was "The Better Land," and a French-speaking English clergyman took up very touchingly, in his address, the thought expressed in the song, reminding the stranger-guests how for them there was a better land in view than that in which they now were exiled from their native country; and a better land than that beloved native land to which their hearts must often turn with longing. And then he put before them Jesus Christ the Saviour, the only way for all to that heavenly home. Next to us was sitting a young Belgian woman, who told me she was a laundress, and had come to England to try and earn more money for the support of an invalid husband and five children. "My three eldest children attend Mr. Bschool," she said. "He takes them free, because I am so poor. They learn already to speak English, and to read and sing very nicely."

's

I found there were over forty children at this school, connected with the "Maison des Étrangers,' 6, Frith Street, Soho. The children's parents pay sixpence or threepence a week for their little ones, if

their means allow. At this Maison des Étrangers there is an afternoon meeting on Sunday, attended by seventy or eighty foreigners, where often foreign pastors visiting London conduct the service. From far distances some of the congregation come. On one occasion lately there were present a French governess from Clapham, an old man from Hackney, and two old people who had walked from Kentish Town. There is a women's meeting on Monday afternoon, on Thursday evening a general meeting, both mainly for Scripture teaching and prayer. Those who avail themselves of these, and of other benefits connected with the Mission-house-the library, the Bible depôt, the help in obtaining employment-are of most varied description: from the needy "professeur de langues" to the humblest mechanic. One old woman of eighty, who attends the services, is in the habit of walking to Battersea, and even Greenwich, in quest of dandelions for salad.

The warmest gratitude is often expressed for the mission services, by those who have returned to their native land.

"What I most miss here," said a Frenchwoman, whom Mr. B- lately met in Brussels, "is the Monday meeting. About half-past two, I think, 'Now they are singing the hymn; now the ladies speak.' My husband says he

will take me to London next summer for a week, and I say it must be a week with two Mondays, for no sight in London will be so pleasant to me as to see those ladies, and no pleasure so great as to be at the meetings." Another writes: "Every Monday I join the meetings in spirit; I read the Bible, and one or two hymns, and try to think I am in Frith Street."

The Mission Library is a most important branch of the work, and any gifts of wholesome French literature, pamphlets, periodicals, books, are eagerly welcomed. French reading of the worst description, including three obscene parodies of the Gospel, are hawked in the district of Soho; but thousands of copies of the New Testament have been distributed there, and in many cases an entire Bible has been applied for in consequence.

As far as possible, those who become known to Mr. B- and his helpers at the Maison des Étrangers are visited at their homes in illness and distress. Among many touching cases of this kind, was that of a poor French cook in failing health, who became a frequenter of the Frith Street services, and was brought to know his

Saviour through an address on the parable of the Prodigal Son. He tried earnestly to recommend the Gospel to his infidel fellow-workers. His disease making rapid progress, the small shop in which some of the friends of the mission had established him was given up, and he was taken to the hospital. He suffered long and intensely, and at length by his earnest wish was removed from the hospital to die at home. He was unspeakably happy, asking sometimes to hear one of the Frith Street hymns. His last earthly wish, that Mr. B might be beside him at his dying hour, was gratified. Kneeling at his bedside, his friend and teacher repeated the precious promises of Scripture, as he fell asleep.

As we looked around us that evening at Craven Hall on the happy, grateful, though often want and sorrow-worn faces of our foreign guests, the words came to our remembrance, "I was a stranger, and ye took Me in: hungry, and ye gave Me meat; sick, and ye visited Me;" and it seemed

IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.

to us that on the work of the Maison des Étrangers in all its branches must rest the special favour of Him Who "loveth the stranger." A. J. T.