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of the widow is spoken of by James as the mark of pure religion. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widow in their affliction" (James i. 27). This surely cannot be applied exclusively to the minister, unless he be the only person who possesses pure religion. The Saviour has drawn a picture of the general judgment, and on that occasion He represents Himself as saying to those on His right hand, "I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me" (Matt. xxv. 36). He explains those phrases by saying, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' To those on His left hand He says, "I was sick and in prison, and ye visited me not." Remembering that this service is claimed by Christ from all His servants, and that it is regarded by Christ as done to Himself, and that special prominence will be given to it at the day of judgment, can any Christian refuse to join in this benevolent work? Rather let there be a spirit of holy emulation manifested by all in this service. Instead of complaining that the work is not done by others, let them heartily engage in it themselves,

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lest to them the Saviour should have
to say, "I was sick, and ye visited me
not."
If ministers have apostolic
example, private Christians have apos-
tolic command to guide them in this
work. Paul wrote to the Thessalo-
nians (v. 11)-"Comfort yourselves
together and edify one another, as also
ye do."
Two objects of Christian
visitation are here set forth-comfort
and edification. Whatever will not
conduce to one or the other of these
ends should be carefully avoided.
These visits should not degenerate
into meetings for gossip. A tattling
visitor is a source of discord, and a
hinderer of true prosperity. By mag-
nifying the defects of the church, by
speaking disrespectfully of the pastor,
by retailing the unguarded expressions
of members, more evil can be done in
one hour by one member than can be
undone by the church in many weeks.
While, then, we would urge Christians
generally to visit their friends, we would
caution them against the evils com-
mitted by those of whom Paul speaks,
who "learn to be idle, wandering about
from house to house: and not only
idlers, but tattlers also, and busy bodies,
speaking things which they ought not"
(1 Tim. v. 13).
C. PAYNE.

DOWN AMONG THE WATER WEEDS.
FOR OUR JUVENILE READERS.

THERE was once upon a time a busy
little creature, who, being anxious to
get settled in life, decided upon build-
ing herself a house, for her mother was
dead, her brothers and sisters gone out
into the world, and she was left quite
alone. Perhaps you would wish to
know what she was like; so I must
tell you that she had eight little legs,
eight little eyes, and a pretty dark-
brown body, covered with silky hair.
Now, strange to say, two elements
were necessary for this tiny being's
existence; for though all her family
pass their lives deep down in the
water, they could never exist there
without atmospheric air, and she, being
early left to her own devices, felt
sorely puzzled as to how she must
contrive her habitation. She was not
very long in doubt, for the kind fairy

"Instinct" soon came to her assistance, and then to show her how to secure a bubble of air under her body, dive with it to the bottom of the water, and there weave herself a strong little tent within which she carefully enclosed the air. When all was finished, it looked very pretty indeed, just like a ball of quicksilver floating about. But Mrs. Spider (diving water spider) did not want it to float; she wished it` to be kept quite stationary. So she spun a number of lines, and, throwing them out in all directions, she fastened them to the water-plants, and so firmly secured her little tent.

When Instinct saw it, she said, "That will do nicely; for the threads will not only keep your dwelling quite steady, but they will also catch the legs of flies and other creatures which,

you know, you will want for your food."

"Oh, that is delightful!" said Mrs. Spider (and her eight little eyes glistened with pleasure). "I was just beginning to think of my kitchen; for, to say the truth, a fine house with an empty larder is not at all my notion of enjoying life."

So she sat in her tent and watched her nets, and presently a fat little creature was caught in one of them. "You stupid thing," said she; "don't kick so, or you'll pull my house down; stay quiet until 1 release you." So, running out, she soon did release him, not only from the net but from his life; and having dined heartily at his expense, she returned to her house, carefully closed the door, and began to make arrangements for the accomodation of her young family.

"Dear me," said she, "it is really very pleasant down here; the green leaves of that anácharis look so beautiful, now the sun shines through them, while the spreading branches not only afford me delightful shade, but also help to support my tent. Everything looks very quiet here just now; but I fancy it is not always so, for Instinct told me that even as I prey upon other creatures, so other creatures will prey upon me. But I'll take care of that; I'll keep in my house, and watch over my young ones, and peep out at my gauzy window to see all that is going on."

One day when Mrs. Spider was looking out of her window, she saw a number of little fellows in dark green uniform darting about in all directions; and, being a cousin to that Mr. Spider who so cruelly deceived a tender young fly, I am sorry to say she had much of his wily disposition; so (while wondering in her mind whether the new comers were good to eat) she called out, in her sweetest tones, to beg that they would come into her parlour and pay her a visit. Hearing a strange voice, most of them ran away, but one, braver than the rest, stood still. He was a very pretty little fellow, and Mrs. S. was quite taken with his appearance.

"Come here, my dear," said she; "I want to look at your beautiful bronze coat, and to have a little talk with you; for, being a stranger here,

I should like to make acquaintance with my neighbours, particularly any so handsome as you are. What is

your name, dear? Don't be afraid of me; my only fault is, that I am too gentle, and my nature is so tender I could not even hurt a fly."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed he of the bronze coat (while he rudely put his fore claw on the top of his nose); "my coat may be green, ma'am, but my nature is not; and though I cannot see you, I know your cunning voice very well. Was it not a cousin of yours that sang the pretty song to a foolish little fly, coaxed her into his parlour, and then ate her up? True I am better protected than any of the Neuroptera (nerve-winged) family; still, ma'am, you must excuse me if, while I talk to you, I prefer keeping ont of your way. I see the dead body of one of our young grubs near your nets. Poor thing! he was very helpless, and you were not long in making an end of him. Yes, Dame Spider, I know you too well; you are a very clever little lady, but your appetite is really so good, and your conscience so bad, I prefer keeping out of reach of your poisonous fangs."

"Dear me," said Mrs. Spider, in a tone of injured innocence; "I perceive you are one of those people who delight in telling disagreeable truths. I must live, you know; and you should not be so very severe in your remarks. However, rude as you are, you can be useful to a stranger like me; only first please tell me your name."

""what's

"Name!" said bronze coat, in a name?' But if you want to know mine, it is Gyrius Nalator (a very small species of water beetle), and I belong to the great Coleoptera (sheathwinged), or beetle family."

"To the beetle family! Oh then, keep away by all means. I don't know what you may be, but I know some of your relatives are cruel creatures; so it is safer for an unprotected being like me to ask you to keep your distance, and not desire any closer acquaintance."

"Oh," said little bronze coat, "so you are afraid of me! I am not so cruel as some of my kindred; besides, you are safe in your house, and not in my way. And now that I know that you daren't hurt me, I don't mind

stopping to introduce you to some of our neighbours." "Thank you," said Mrs. Spider. "But first, just tell me what you have got on your back. It seems quite hard, and shines so when you turn round."

"Oh, that is my shield. All of the Coleoptera family, to which I belong, are military characters. We have shields on our backs, and armour on the under part of our bodies; and see, I can open my shield in the centre, spread it out into wings, and as I have delicate gauze wings too, when the cool night comes, I can fly off and visit some other water. It's a jolly arrangement, isn't it, particularly for an active little fellow like me?"

"Very," said the spider, sighing. "I wish I had wings. However, my eight little legs can take me about fast enough a good deal faster than this creature's, so slowly crawling up the anácharis. Ah! now I see that poor thing has no legs at all. Is it any one you know?"

"Oh, yes I know her very well, not that we are in any way connected, for she belongs to a different order of creation from you and me.

We are insects, you know; but she is a fishone of the great family of Testaceous Mollusca, or shell fish. They are very quiet, inoffensive creatures, but, for my taste, too fond of staying at home; indeed, they are so firmly attached to their habitations, that wherever they go, each one carries about his house on his back. That one you are looking at is Limnea Stagnalis. See! she is putting out her head, so you can see her great triangular horns."

"How stupid she looks!"

"Nothing of the kind," Madam Spider. "She is as clever as you are, for she built that horn-coloured mansion herself; and whenever it gets broken, she can mend it very nicely. See how prettily shaped it is! It has several chambers, the lowest being the largest, next one less in size, and so on until they taper to a very small point." "Yes," said Mrs. Spider, "it is very curious, whirling round and round. But I cannot think how she stretched out to build the little room on the top." "Ha! ha!" laughed little beetle; "that is just what I said. And when she heard me, she

was quite amused to think that I should fancy that she could build her lowest chamber first. 'No, indeed,' said she; 'I was not so foolish. I began life in a house suited to my age and capabilities; and then, as 1 grew older and greater, I added whirl after whirl; so my lowest and widest chamber, at which I go in and out, has, of course, been built the latest.'" Well, I wonder," said Mrs. Spider, "that she did not make it thicker and stronger. It is roomy enough, but so thin that it is almost transparent; and that sharp edge at the aperture must often get broken."

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"So it does; but, as I told you before, she can easily build it up again; and being light and buoyant, it is better for floating about in the still water. Oh, she is a very clever creature, I assure you. But, while I admire her talent, I cannot always approve of her conduct; she is so exceedingly greedy, and very depraved in her tastes, eating all sorts of nasty things. Decayed leaves are her general food; but whenever a dead fish or any decomposed anitnal matter comes within her reach, you cannot think how ravenously she will devour it."

"Well, Master Beetle, I don't think one of your family need talk about bad taste in eating, for I have been told you're not very particular. However it is well that the Limneids (freshwater snails) as well as you have those habits, for you all act as scavengers down here, and clear away substances that would otherwise be very offensive to a delicate creature like me. But you said Limnea Stagnalis devoured her food very quickly; and I want to know how she can do so without any teeth."

"Without teeth! I can tell you she has plenty of teeth; for not only is the upper part of her mouth armed with a strong mandible (horny jaw), but she has (look now, she is putting it out!) a long tongue, upon which 110 teeth are arranged in rows, the inner row being the largest and strongest." "Well, I must say 110 is not a bad stock of teeth. However, I can't think how she can see where to find her food without any eyes." "I wonder what is the use of your

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eight eyes," asked Limnea Stagnalis, "if you can't see mine. Look on each side of my head at the inner base of my tentacles (horns), and you see a very fine pair of eyes. I suppose you expected me to be like my cousins the land-snails, who carry theirs on the point of their long horns. But now I perceive you are a pair of gossips; so I am not going to waste my precious time talking.'

"You have got nothing else to do," sneered Mrs. Spider.

"Haven't I? I can tell you you are mistaken. Every thing and every creature in nature has a duty to perform during its lifetime; and at present mine is to choose out a favourable spot and there deposit my spawn." "Spawn!" said Mrs. Spider, "what is that ?" "Ignorant creature," said Limnea Stagnalis. "You lay eggs yourself, and yet when I allude to

mine, you cannot imagine what I

mean.

"Of course not," answered Mrs. Spider. "If you speak in your fishy language, you cannot expect us insects to understand you."

Hard to say how hot the debate might have become (for a tongue armed with 110 teeth must be able to say very biting things); but the discussion was closed very suddenly, for a sound like quack! quack! was heard -a feathered head was put into the water-a great trap opened wideand a huge feathered monster called a duck swallowed up Limnea Stagnalis! Of course this created great confusion among the inhabitants of the waterweeds; but the feathered creature soon went away, and quietness was restored.-From "Down Among the Water Weeds; or, Marvels of Pond Life." By Mona B. Bickerstaffe.

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RESPECT for this excellent man and distinguished preacher, together with pleasant memories of his earliest ministrations in the metropolis, where he was so near to us as to be considered our neighbour, induce us to give a few extracts from some of the sermons preached on the occasion of his death.

"If any

The Rev. Dr. Candlish, of Edinburgh, delivered the funeral sermon in Regent's Square Chapel, and at its conclusion he said, I come among you on this sad occasion simply to preach Jesus Christ, because that is the course which he whose presence haunts us to-day would prefer. I have a message to deliver to you from him. It is this, "Love to the session and congregation," to some by name, and many more. inquire the ground of my confidence, it is not that I have been a minister of the gospel, or have been kept from some sins, for I feel utterly unworthy. My hope is in the mercy of God, through Jesus Christ, and in that blood which cleanseth from all sin. And I wish to go into God's presence as the rest have done-a sinner saved by grace-a sinner saved by grace." That is his latest message to you. Lay it solemnly to heart, as I desire to lay it to heart

myself. With this preface I may be allowed to give utterance most inadequately to some impressions and reminiscences clustering in my mind around James Hamilton, and my intercourse with him. Such was the transparency of his nature, such the perfect and guileless simplicity of his character, that no one could ever meet with him without knowing him, and none could know him without loving him. He felt thus in his dying hour, and a brief notice of what he said shortly before his death will show us how he felt it. Says his brother, "He was surprised to see me step into his room, but he welcomed me in his own peculiar manner." William," said he, "I am glad to see you, and how kind it is of you to come so far." "I have just come to tell you how near you are to happiness and to home." "I sometimes think so," he replied, "and fear I may be disappointed." I said, “No, you cannot be disappointed; you will will be there in a few days or in a few hours." "Oh, William," he said, 'you have brought me good news. How kind of you to tell me this. You are a happy man; you are strong and well, and you have the wondrous privilege of preaching the glorious

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gospel of Jesus Christ." He then asked after his brother's wife and children, and on being told they had sent their love to him, he said, "Oh, I am hemmed in by love on every side. There is nothing but love around me; but I have too little love within me. It was the very fulness of his love which made him feel short of it. He loved so much that he never could be satisfied he loved enough, There was no weakness in his love. It was a strong manly affection; a love of the truth of God as it is in Jesus. Never

was there a compromise of principle on his side, never any indulgence of sin or error. Strongly as he was attached to the creed and polity of our Free Kirk and the Presbyterian community, I believe that he belonged emphatically to the brotherhood of saints. All true men of all denominations might have concurred with him. You have witnessed the anxiety of many and various pastors and congregations during his illness, and you. have seen how many of all varieties of religious sentiments and views filled this house and crowded round his open grave. His loss falls heavily on you -you who have been wont to enjoy the eloquence of his charmed lips, and to welcome him to your homes, where his presence made sunshine amongst you. But all Christendom laments it. You have the whole family of God's people with you. All miss him, and all feel that at such a time as this such a man can ill be spared, for he was indeed, to use our poet's words, a rare man." Gifted originally with an extraordinary combination of mind and heart, he had qualities any one of which must have made another man distinguished. Of an even temperament, ready wit, a keen sense of humour, a keen appreciation of beauty, a correct and capacious memory, he had an an order of arrangement and a power of speech not often found in any one man. He threw much of bright pictorial imagination about what he said, and could draw illustrations from all the ranks of nature, and well-nigh all the arts and science of life. Need Ispeak of his manly disposition, or of his warm-heartedness, his generosity, his wide sympathy, or of the elevated tone of happy charity which won the admiration and esteem of ever one?

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I am here to-day because I offered myself for this duty, knowing that it would be very trying, very painful; but I was not able to resist the impulse moving me to pay this tribute to the memory of my brother in the Lord. I knew him, if not from his boyhood, at least from his ripening youth. I watched his college career, in so far as it was under my eye, with sanguine expectation of his fame. At the close of it I chose him to be my fellowlabourer in my parochial work. His first sermon was preached in my parochial mission house, and the beginning of his ministry was with ine. I had a chief hand in sending him to London -in introducing him to your notice, and persuading him to accept your call. Our relations since have been of the closest kind. We have exchanged pulpits for successive Sabbaths, when the exciting work of the crises of the ten years' conflict compelled my prolonged residence here; and down to the close of his ministry, our pastoral fellowship, like our personal friendship, continued unabated.

The Hon. and Rev. Baptist Noel, in the course of his sermon, remarked:Many will lament for him; and they may well lament, for the world has lost a friend, London has lost a light, though he occupied the humble position of a pastor of a dissenting church. It was not because of the rank of His disciples that Jesus said, "Ye are the lights of the world;" and so it was with our dear brother, to whom God gave great virtues, and they made him a light. He had a very consider. able capacity; he had a powerful fancy and a very refined taste; he had a great love of literature; he was a man of extensive reading and knowledge, and all these were sanctified because spent in the service of his Master; and what perhaps was better than all this, he had much of that lowliness of spirit amidst the lustre of great faculties which gave Jesus so much exaltation. And there always seemed to me to be in Dr. Hamilton a peculiar childlike clearness and child-like innocency, such as you rarely see in a man; and all that makes this a great loss, and it is a grief to me to think I shall never see him more in this world.

The Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, at the Tabernacle, said, Dr. James Hamilton

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