tense and supreme an excitement, had not been "stung with compunction" and cried out, "Men and brethren, what shall we do?"

His

(2.) Again: He who had thus prepared his audience, also provided St. Peter's text. Beyond all question the Apostle's sermon is one of the noblest pieces of natural rhetoric of which we have any record. calmness and self-possession under the pressure of so novel and exhausting an excitement; the instinctive art with which he conciliates his audience and takes them into his confidence, quoting their favourite authors and claiming to speak freely to them because he is a Jew as they are; the awful suspense in which he holds them by reserving to the closing periods of his discourse the charge which these citations from the prophets were intended to introduce and clench home upon their consciences; the gathered and voluminous force with which he at last hurls at them the accusation of having crucified Him whom God had made" both Lord and Christ,"-all prove him a born orator, a consummate though unschooled rhetorician. But it was not his rhetoric which gave him his power to pierce and charm the general heart of his audience that was but the feather of his arrow; the dart that pierced them was the simple story of the Divine Love and of their rejection of it. God had sent them the very Christ to whom all the ancient prophets pointed with one finger, the Christ who was to save them from all their sins and miseries, and to bring in the golden age of righteousness, freedom, love, and peace; and they had slain Him with lawless hands. It was they themselves who had extinguished the Great Light for which they had longed through centuries of darkness, the Great Hope which had borne them up through all their wrongs and oppressions and calamities. But they had done it ignorantly, and ignorantly had carried out the counsel of the Eternal Will. And therefore God would not condemn and abandon them. God had raised Him whom they slew, carried Him up into heaven when the earth would no longer endure his presence. He was there now; and there, not to take vengeance on the earth which had banished Him, but to give repentance to men and remission of sins. He was still their "Lord" if they would obey Him; still their "Christ" if they would be saved by Him. Let them but repent, amend, obey, and that strange mystic gift of the Holy Ghost, the mere signs of whose advent had filled them with awe and astonishment, should be shed down on them and on their children.

You see, though Peter quotes psalmist and prophet, his text is Christ; his theme, the wonderful pathetic story of that Divine Love which will bless men and do them good, despite their follies and crimes. And in this simple pathetic story, however simply and crudely it may be spoken, there is a force far beyond that of mere rhetoric, a power wholly beyond the reach of art. Even we, who have heard it as long as we can remember, hope to hear it, and to be touched and purified by it, as long as we live.

(3.) Finally, besides preparing his audience, and providing his text, the Lord Jesus procured the power with which St. Peter spake. A little while since I said we would leave out from our thoughts the special gift and power of the day of Pentecost. But we cannot long leave it out of our thoughts. The Sacred Narrative will not suffer us to do

THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST.

11

that. It is so constructed that though, in recording the wonders of that great day, it expends but few words on the advent of the Holy Ghost, we feel throughout that this is the supreme event, the motive force of the whole story. St. Luke dwells a little on the mighty rush of wind, on the tongues of fire, on the speaking with many tongues; he gives St. Peter's discourse at unsual length, and vividly describes the effects it produced both in augmenting the strength and in exalting the tone of the Church. He devotes only a single verse to the effusion of the Holy Ghost; he says only, "they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues as the Spirit granted them to speak." Nevertheless we feel that these brief simple words contain the very pith and kernel of the story, that they assign a sufficient cause for all its wonders.

When the Son of God took flesh and dwelt among us, a new star announced the new birth; the angels broke from heaven to follow Him who had been the Joy of heaven. And, in like manner, it was to be expected that when the Spirit of God came to dwell in all flesh, in young men and maidens, old men and children, there would be "prodigies in the heaven above and signs upon the earth beneath." Above all it was to be expected that men should be moved " to call upon the Name of the Lord," and that "everyone whosoever" did call on that Name "should be saved." We cannot wonder, then, that, as Peter, "filled with the Holy Ghost," proclaimed "Him, whom God had made both Lord and Christ," thousands should "receive his word" and be baptized into the faith of Christ. It was the quickening Spirit which gave his word its penetrating and quickening power. But that Spirit was the gift of Christ: it was shed forth by Him. In the foreknowledge and counsel of God it had been ordained that only when Jesus went up on high should the Holy Ghost be sent down on men. It was for the fulfilment of Christ's promise," when I depart, I will send Him to you, even the Spirit of truth, the Holy Ghost," that the Apostles had tarried in Jerusalem. The promise was this day fulfilled. Just as Christ was

"God manifest in the flesh," so the Holy Ghost was Christ manifest in the spirit. Therefore it was, because he was filled with the Spirit, that he spoke with such large and happy results. But therefore also Peter's success was really the success of Christ. Being dead, the Son of Man yet spake, and his works followed Him.

Here, then, is fresh comfort and incentive for all, who serve Christ whether at home or abroad. Visible and immediate success may, or may not, be granted them in their work. There is no reason why they should despair of it, for Christ as He furnishes their theme, can prepare their audience for them, and may so fill them with his Spirit that none shall be able to resist them. It is not as though they were called to speak or serve in their own wisdom and strength, or must trust to these for the effects they are to produce. So long as they carry the simple story of Divine Love to weak and sinful hearts, their Master is with them and for them, succeeding in their successes, triumphing in their triumphs. But whether their succcess be instant and visible, or invisible and deferred, they cannot labour in vain. Like the Master Himself, they may die and see but little fruit of their labour; but, like Him also, being dead, they will yet speak. They may only have kept a

few of their fellows in mind of God, and helped them to live in the love and obedience of the truth; they may have only won a few to the faith and service of Christ, who, but for them, would have still been "sold under sin;" but, if they have been faithful to the truth that was in them, they shall in no wise lose their reward. The six score souls saved by Christ during his earthly ministry who, when He died, were lost in the millions that crowded Jerusalem for the Feast, have grown into a mighty Christendom in which even the millions of Jerusalem would be lost. Night and day, from every land on which the sun looks down, there now rises to heaven an unbroken chorus of praise from the spiritual heirs and descendants of that little company whom a single chamber was large enough to contain. And, if the word of God be true, the future will shew even greater wonders and triumphs than the past, triumphs and wonders in which we shall have our part if only we serve Christ out of a pure heart, a good conscience, and faith unfeigned. Let no man's heart fail him, then, and let no man be impatient for large immediate success. Whoever helps to keep the little world about him sweet and pure, to raise its tone and hallow its spirit, and much more whoever goes out into the large world to carry the good news of salvation to souls bound in sin and misery, is serving the Lord Christ and helping on the coming of his kingdom. What though he win no fame for himself? What though he die and be forgotten of men? Christ, whom he has served, will not forget him, nor his labour of love. The world will be the better for him, and the crown of Christ the brighter. And is not that a reward for which the most ambitious soul alive might be well content to fling away his life?

Ill-Mated.

ANDREW and Peter entered into partnership. Andrew was a professing Christian, an active and zealous Sunday school teacher, a most useful church member, and withal a keen, shrewd man of business, intent on making money. Peter was not less energetic and far seeing; but he was unprincipled. That was his one defect. He was genial, pleasant, and industrious; but had no conscience save what was represented by a policeman. So long as he kept out of his clutches he felt as if all would go rightly. Of course Andrew protested against wrong-doing; but Peter said, "Everybody does it." "We shall be in the workhouse in a week if we go your way. Andrew was in high dudgeon at this; remembered he was a Christian and owed something to his Righteous Teacher: but he was in BONDS: he had entered into partnership. True he had made the fetters himself, and could break them if he would. But his courage failed him. He would have to start afresh. He would have to confess a mistake, and to set his foot down firmly on the rock of righteousness. It was too much for him. He made shipwreck of faith and of a GOOD CONSCIENCE. Gradually he left the Sunday school, and his name has been erased from the church books for non-attendance: but then he has a luxuriously furnished villa in the suburbs, and a large and thriving business in the city. What he has paid for all this God only knows. But I can see that he has paid out all his early peace, and Sabbath serenity, and holy usefulness; and has his cup filled with the gall of bitterness, because he submitted to be fettered with the bonds of iniquity. How can two walk and work together except they be agreed? MARRY ONLY IN THE LORD is a very wide and far-reaching rule. It applies as much to business as to matrimonial bonds; and the violation of the law is as surely punished in the one case as in the other. We reap what we sow, and not some other grain. JOHN CLIFFORD.

Auld Lang Syne;"

OR, RECOLLECTIONS OF LIFE IN YORKSHIRE.

I.-The Village.

"A village less than Islington."-Cowley.

"Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain."-Goldsmith.

THE unimaginative reader will find in the first of the above quotations a faithful description, so far as it goes, of my native village. But a natural regard for the place of my birth and boyhood makes me put down Goldsmith's line as well. True, Auburn was not the name, and the situation was not a plain; but since the place has been so much altered as virtually to be no more, please consider the words as an epitaph, and take off the usual discount. At the time of which I write the village was separated from the neighbouring town by a long and lonely road. On one side was a high stone wall running nearly the whole of the way, relieved at intervals by gateways opening on the pastures. On the other side, for a good part of the way, was a long and narrow plantation, which in the leafy summer was "a thing of beauty," but which on windy winter nights, in that lampless region, made the road somewhat dismal. The village had no streets. There were two or three lanes, a road-side, a ginnel, a well-fold, and a row of houses called after "that heathen Chinee." Other parts of the village could only be pointed out in some such periphrastic language as "On by th' gardens," or "Down by Johnny Wilson's," &c.

The best house in the place belonged to the gentleman who "ran" the mill. It had a verandah in front, and opened upon a pleasant lawn and garden which always went by the name of the orchard; and certainly it grew some very nice apples, as many of the boys could testify. Another house, a stuccoed building, was inhabited by a quiet bachelor, and his spinster sister; but as they had no orchard, and as the house stood at right angles to the schoolmaster's, no boy felt that it had any special attractions. Besides these were some quaint old houses that bore marks of ancient grandeur. Tradition said that three cottages in particular, which stood together, had once been an old mansion. Built of sandstone, they had old fashioned windows with diamond panes in lead frames. In one of them might have been seen an elderly woman busy at her spinning wheel, while up-stairs in the spacious chamber the husband was engaged in hand-loom weaving.

Of one of these hand-loom weavers (now an almost extinct race) I once heard the following anecdote. He was a little old man, and very popular as a local preacher among the Methodists, then called Reformers. It was his practice to take his work from the country place where he lived to the town where he received his pay. The distance being long, and having a load to carry both ways, he used to call at a certain inn for refreshment on the return journey. The inn was frequented by a class of men who were sceptics. Sammy seldom joined in their conversation; but on one occasion as he quietly sat in his accustomed nook, one of the company dilating upon the Scriptures, finished his speech by

saying that the Bible was a pack of falsehoods from beginning to end, in fact, said he, "there isn't a word of truth in it." As soon as he had done, Sammy, addressing the landlord, asked if he had a pair of pincers. The pincers were brought, whereupon Sammy took them up, and going in front of the sceptic said, "I've heard thee say there isn't a word o' truth i' th' whole Bible. Now it says in Proverbs that the churning of milk bringeth forth butter, and the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood. We will try the last if you please," and so saying he stretched forth the pincers to lay hold of the man's nose. It was answering a "fool according to his folly," and it saved the man from being "wise in his own conceit."

At

Another of the cottages, forming part of the aforesaid mansion, was a singular structure. It was very large and lofty. One side was wainscoted with oaken panels, surmounted by balusters. one end of the room, projecting for some distance over the fire-place, was a gallery capable of seating forty or fifty persons. It was approached by means of a ladder and a trap door, but it was never used except for lumber. One of the tenants living there was a litttle old woman who died in her ninety-fifth year, the oldest person in the village. I knew her well. Old Betty we called her. Except that her sight was not good, she was active and cheerful. I have heard her boast that when she was a girl my age, she was strong enough to " 'carry a stone of flour in her teeth." She was remarkably fond of tobacco, and kept to her pipe longer than to anything else; indeed it may be said that when she ceased to smoke she ceased to live. The principal amusements of the men, some of whom rejoiced in such nick-names as Long Dick, Cockle Tom, Black Bill, &c., were pigeon-flying and playing at "Knor-and-spell." The spell was an oblong board having four long sharp spikes for feet. On the upper surface of the board was a long steel spring about an inch wide, fastened down at one end and having on it, within an inch of the other end, a small cup to hold the Knor. The Knor was a small ball usually made of holly, and cleverly fashioned round with a penknife. When a game was about to be played the spell would be pricked into the ground, generally in the corner of a field; the spring would be bent down to an upright catch at one end, and the Knor placed in the cup which was then in a horizontal position. The player would take his stick, in shape like a billiard cue, but with a head having a flat face spliced to the end of it. Carefully measuring his distance he would touch the catch with the head of his stick, set free the spring which would thus throw up the Knor, and before it fell, he would swing round his stick with all his might, and hitting the Knor, would send it flying to the other end of the field. The field was previously measured, a stone being placed at the end of every twenty yards, and the champion player was the one who could send the Knor the greatest number of scores. Boys were on the look out for the Knors and sent them back. The game was immensely popular; and especially on the occasion of a great match, filled both players and spectators with the greatest enthusiasm. In a match the winner would be he who scored the most out of ten or twenty rises, just as in shooting. After the contest backers and their men would adjourn to a publichouse, the sign of which I forget, but which went by the name of "The Starving Rascal."