and worship him, and forsake the service of the one true God." Now in this case it is not God who makes us suffer, nor is it our obedience to his laws which makes us suffer, but it is our disobedience to that holy law, it is our own ungodliness.

In the case of sickness or of death bringing distress upon us, the godly have almost always one source of temporal relief open to them-they will at once go to their minister, and from him they will obtain both spiritual consolation and temporal assistance. If they have not neglected the outward duties of religion, they will be known to him as part of his regular congregation; remembered as among the number of communicants who assemble round the Lord's table. And he will be glad to do all he can to help and comfort them in the day of adversity; thus will godliness bring its present reward. Ah! surely if the sting of death is sin, so is the sting of sickness sin also. And this brings us to the next source of man's misery in this world which we have to consider, -the want of health, or bodily infirmity of any kind.

Here we often seem to see the hand of God more strikingly at work. The blow seems to come immediately from Him, and we lay the blame on that gracious God in our hearts, if not in our words. Now in many cases this sickness or this bodily infirmity is simply the consequence of our own intemperance, or of our own carelessness, or the carelessness of those about us; it is not God who sends it, it comes from man, and we have to blame ourselves or some other man for what we are suffering. Look at that man walking with difficulty and crippled with disease; he was once strong and active, God gave him a sound mind and a healthful body, but he abused those gifts till he has brought himself into this hopeless state. When the cholera first appeared on this coast, and spread like a plague through the land, who were the victims? was it not especially the immoral, the profligate, the drunkard? Go into the wards of a hospital, and among the number of sufferers, how many will confess "this is not the Lord's doing, but the consequence of my own folly."

But this is not always the case; a man living tempe

rately, and morally, and religiously, may be laid on a sick bed, and he may be laid there by God's especial will, and by a direct dispensation from his hand. But is it then without a purpose? Does God willingly and without any reason send this sickness? No, my friends! He has Himself told us that He does not do this; it may be sent "to try your patience for the example of others, and that your faith may be found in the day of the Lord laudable, glorious, and honourable to the increase of glory and endless felicity; or else it may be sent unto you to correct and amend you in whatsoever doth offend the eyes of your heavenly Father;" but it is ever sent in mercy to warn us, and to improve us, and the same gracious God who sends it will enable us, if we ask Him, to improve the trial to the salvation of our own souls, and also will enable us to bear the suffering with patience and cheerfulness. If the godly then suffer from sickness, it is still the work of sin. When a father chastises his child it is the fault of the child which is the cause of the chastisement. And no passage of Scripture explains this matter so fully to us as that in St. Paul's epistle to the Hebrews, chap. xii., where he encourages us to bear cheerfully such chastisements as proofs of a heavenly Father's love, who chastises us in order to receive us into his kingdom, and teaches us that the object of such chastisement is the correction of our faults; and, therefore, it is the existence of such faults which brings the chastisement upon us; while the sickness sent as a warning and a punishment is a proof of God's never-failing love and kindness. towards us. It is like the medicine of a good physician, who endeavours to give relief to our bodily sickness, and if bitter and unpalateable, yet we should accept it willingly as a means of curing what is amiss in us.

All sickness is of God's appointment, in one sense indeed, for the sickness which follows the indulgence of any vice is so ordained of God as a manifest warning to us to flee from that vice, just as a poisonous plant has generally something about it, in colour or smell, repugnant to man's feelings, and which leads him instinctively to leave it alone.

And now that we have seen that sickness is always in

some way the fruit of sin, let us also see how mercifully God alleviates and lessens the pains of that poisonous fruit, when we have become partakers of it. Why is it that we see two sufferers lying in their beds, helpless and in pain, from the same dire disease, and yet we find one of those sufferers calm, and even cheerful and contented, receiving every act of kindness with a grateful smile, and blessing God for the many comforts which he feels on his sick bed; while the other is restless and impatient, irritable to all about him, and adding to the fever of his body by the uneasiness of his mind. Why is this, my friends? Is it not that one of these sufferers is already possessed of that "godliness which hath the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come;" and that the other has lived without God in the world, and must look forward to dying without Him. Oh fearful thought! no wonder the agony of his mind far outweighs the suffering of his body.

The godly man is as a sick child in the arms of a loving father-he feels his weakness, but he knows where to look for strength; the pain is sharp, but God enables him to bear it. He knows how often he has offended that heavenly Father, and shall he not show his penitence and humility by meekly bowing beneath the rod which he is sensible he deserves? He loves that Father, and therefore he is willing to submit to whatever He sees fit to lay upon him. His feeling is,

"O Lord my God, do Thou thy holy will;

I will lie still:

I will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm,
And break the charm

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast
In perfect rest."

His mourning is turned into rejoicing; and, supported and upheld by his Saviour's arm, he can even look forward without fear to the dark valley of death, for he says, "I will fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff comfort me." So fully and faithfully are God's promises fulfilled to us, so true is it that all our troubles spring from our own sins or from the sins of others; while all our comforts and mercies are from the God of

all mercy, whose compassion never faileth, and whose mercies are renewed every morning.

E. A.

THE PEACE-MAKER AND MISCHIEF-MAKER.

(Continued from page 13.)

ALAS! it was not always that Susan Wright was at hand to counteract Ann Blackall's ill advice and evil example; and even had she been, some there were who turned from the good to the evil genius of our village, as in the following instances.

"Did you get the place, Sarah?" asked Blackall of one of her young relations who was seeking a service. "I might have it if I will, but— "But what? it is a genteel family and good wages, isn't it?" "Why, yes; "What way? but the old lady is over particular." "Too pious; no Sunday walks or tea-drinking allowed." "Oh! if that is it, I advise you to have nothing to say to the place; you will get moped to death." "And then Mrs. Price reads the Bible to her maids, and questions them. I don't like that either. I learned my catechism at school, that is enough for me." "I should think so, indeed; you are too old to be treated like a child. I would have nothing to say to the place." wages are good, that tempts me." my part I would rather have a pound less wages, and my liberty, if I was you." "I told Mrs. Price I would think about it, so I am not engaged." "I have half a mind to try for the chambermaid's place at the Queen's Head, at Newton; shall I, Ann?" "By all means; you will have hard work at times, but not too much Bible and church-going, I'll answer for it. You may dress as smart as you like, and choose your own company for a holiday walk when you can get it." "Mother won't

"But the "Well, Sarah, for

like it, that is the worst." "Nonsense, child, I'll talk her over: and why need you tell her why Mrs. Price's situation don't suit? let her think it is Mrs. Price's doing." "So I can; you are a good one for helping out of a difficulty, Ann. Do you recollect how cleverly you got me out of my last school scrape?" By changing your bonnet and Betsy Best's? oh, yes! to be sure, I shall

66

never forget. Poor silly Betsy, she got a fine scolding; but if she didn't deserve it that day, she did the next, I dare say." "Well, then, it's settled, I will go to the town this very afternoon." Yes, and you may tell your mother I'm going, and want you to go with me, and so

66

she'll ask no questions: and if you like the place at the Queen's Head, why you had better take it out and out, and have done with Mrs. Price." "And you will back me up to mother, if she is put out about it, won't you, Mrs. Blackall?" "To be sure; I always befriend those who are wise enough to be schooled by me: my shoulders are broad enough to bear the blame."

And was this the case when, at the end of six months, Sally left the Queen's Head in disgrace? Did the evil genius befriend her then? No, she was one of the first to expose her victim's shame, and to wonder how she could disgrace herself so !

Still did Ann Blackall throw about her firebrands, and say, it was only in sport!

The poor little orphan nephew who lived with her was one who suffered most from her ill example and bad teaching. "Look, aunt, John Welsh has hit me with a stone." Well, Tom, why not hit him again, and harder too? that is the way to do, and not come crying to me like a baby." "I've got his ball in my pocket; he sha'n't have that, aunt." "No, give it to me, I will burn it-see how it blazes." "Aunt, I got scolded at school for being late." "Never mind, I will buy you a penny tart: I can't get you ready a bit sooner these dark mornings. "See here," cried Tom, "what a long hymn I have to get by heart for Sunday. What shall I do?" "Don't fret about the hymn; I am going a pleasuring on Sunday, and shall take you with me: so the hymn don't signify, my little man."

Another day, Tom came in with a pocket full of apples. "See here, aunt, what beauties!" "Beauties, indeed, where did you get them?" "Out of old Farmer Rix's orchard. Will Ball and a lot of us watched the old man off to market, and then climbed the gate." "You daring fellow, if the farmer were to catch you, he will give you a thrashing." "But I'll take care he