exerted. He continued thus tranquil a long time, but at length his distress returned, and the hour of death drew near. About midnight, suffering and agonized, he begged of his mother to send for the good minister to pray again. He must have somebody to pray. The parents disliked to call him at that hour of the night, and knew not what to do. At last the mother went up stairs, and taking the little sleeping Alice from her bed, brought her to her brother's bedside, and told her what Frank wanted. Immediately she knelt down, and slowly and solemnly repeated the prayer which they both so much loved, and then, unasked, said,

"Now Franky lays him down to sleep,
I pray the Lord his soul to keep;

If he should die before he wake,
I pray the Lord his soul to take."
The first words soothed the sufferer, and
with the last his spirit fled.

Witnessed earth ever a sublimer spectacle? At the dead hour of night; in the chamber where waits the king of terrors, surrounded by weeping friends, the infant of five summers, roused hastily from the sweet slumbers of childhood, kneels in her simple night dress, and, undisturbed, unterrified, lisps in childish accents the prayer which Heaven accepts, and on whose breath missioned angels bear upward the ransomed soul.

I would learn a lesson. They labour not in vain who sow precious seed in the soil of youthful hearts.

GREAT WORKS AND SMALL

MEANS.

"When I was a student, I visited, during one Spring vacation, the rough, wild region of narrow country lying between Lake Champlain and Lake George, New York, in order to ascertain the wants of the people in reference to the Bible. The Rev. Ashley Vaughan, well known as one of the most prominent men of God for several years in Mississippi, now in glory, was my colleague. We visited every house and family. One day, near the going down of the sun, we reached the residence of the only minister of the gospel in all that region. We found him in a saw-mill, faithfully at work, sawing logs into planks and boards. When he had fixed his log on the carriage, and set the

saw to running, he would catch up his bible and read a few verses, upon which he would meditate, while he would afterwards be employed in laying the boards off and putting another log on. We were cordially welcomed, and soon word was circulated in the neighbourhood; a meeting was called, and in the evening a score or more of people assembled, and each of us spoke to them as well as we could, about Jesus Christ and him crucified for sinners.

"I was deeply interested in the spirit and matter of this sawing minister's remarks, and so was Brother Vaughan. We sat late around his cracking fire on the hearth, and communed concerning the things of the kingdom. I finally asked the brother, what library he had, as I was always glad to get into a library, especially a christian pastor's. He reached down from a small shelf a Bible-and it was a very poor one,-Watts's Psalms and Hymns, and one volume of Blair's Sermons,-saying, these were all the books he had. We gave him a much better copy of the Bible than his own was, and left him, little expecting ever to hear of him more in this world.

"In a few years, a bright-haired lad wandered up into that wild, mountain region, with some lumbermen; heard the gospel preached from the lips of this man of the mill, and of only three books; believed, and was baptized by him, with many others, in the clear waters of Lake George, amidst the solemn shadows of its surrounding mountains.

Soon this lad began to preach as well as he could; and, urged by the unlettered sawyer preacher, he left that region,-obtained help of his elder brothers,-took a full course of study at Madison University, -became a useful minister of Jesus Christ, -and a few years ago died, lamented by all. who knew him, the beloved and popular pastor of the First Baptist Church in the city of Mobile, Alabama."

Reader, if this good man was enabled to do so much for God with such small means, what ought you to do with your greater ones? Or if your opportunities are small, should not this fact encourage you? "He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much; and he that is unfaithful in that which is least, is unfaithful also in much."

SNOWBALLS.

There was a boy called Tom, who took it into his head, that his schoolfellow, James, had done something on purpose to insult him; and in spite of all James could say or do to make him friendly again, he seemed determined neither to forgive nor forget, but did all he could to make the other uncomfortable; for he said he was resolved to pay him out, as he called it. Now James tried to bear it all with patience and gentleness, for he was a good boy, and his mother had shewn him that we ought to imitate Christ's example of bearing injuries and unkindness with meekness and forbearance, and forgive those who offend us, and love our enemies, and try to change them into friends. Although it was spring-time, the weather was very cold, and there was some snow on the ground; and Tom resolved to make a lot of snowballs to pelt James with, as he came by his father's garden, on his way to school the next morning. ""Tis freezing hard," said he to himself, as he made the snowballs; "they'll be as hard as stones by tomorrow; I shall give it to him well, and teach him not to go insulting me any more. It's all because he is a coward and afraid to fight, that he says he's sorry he did it; such apologies won't do for me. I told him I would pay him out before another week was over, and so I will."

These were the thoughts Tom had, as he pressed the snow together to make it hard and round. He never stopped to think of all the kind, good-natured things James had often done for him. One little bit of fun, or "insult," as he chose to call it, had made him forget all his old friendship, and now he was coolly preparing to pour out the angry feelings that filled his heart. Poor Tom! he had not learnt the meaning of the prayer his lips uttered that very night ere he went to bed, "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us." And when he awoke the next morning, almost his first thought was of the snowballs and his revenge. He said nothing to any one about it, but got ready to start for school as soon as he could, and went off to the garden to watch for James.

But whilst Tom had been sleeping in his warm bed, the weather had changed; the

frost had gone, and the thaw was come; and the warm, bright sunbeams had taken a peep at his heap of snowballs, and left nothing of them but a little water. "How provoking this is," muttered Tom, halfangry with the weather for changing so soon; "how very provoking! But I'll think of something else for you, master James, never fear.".

"Good morning, Tom! are you ready to start?" said a pleasant voice outside the hedge. Tom knew who it was before he looked up and saw James's good-natured face peeping in at the garden-gate.

"We shall have no sliding on the millpond to-day, for 'tis thawing fast; but father says we may play in the old barn if we like. I hope you'll come over, Tom, and have some famous games."

Before now, Tom would have been all in a hurry to say, "Yes, to be sure I will;" but, somehow or other, he felt very queer and awkward. There was such a look of kindness and good-will beaming in James's face, that he did not like to look at him, and the very tone of his voice seemed to Tom to reproach him for having felt and behaved so unkindly to him. He hardly knew what to say, and would far rather have walked into school alone, but he had no excuse for lingering behind, so they went together.

I cannot tell all the thoughts that came into Tom's mind that morning, but he could not help thinking a great deal about the sunbeams and the snowballs, and about his conduct to James, and James's behaviour to him. He learnt a lesson that day besides those he said to the schoolmaster. In the evening he went to play in the old barn with James and the others; and when the next morning came, he was at the gardengate watching for James again, not to pelt him with snowballs, but to tell him what he was going to have done, and to ask him to forgive him. "I shall never forget," he said, "the lesson I learnt yesterday. I see how it is now; love can melt hard hearts and angry feelings, just as the sunbeams melted the snowballs. And for the future, James, I hope I shall always obey the law of kindness, instead of the law of revenge."

"I hope we both shall," replied James; "it is hard work sometimes to keep from saying and doing cross things, but every

time one keeps one's anger down, and gains a victory over one's self, it grows easier and easier. How happy we might all be,"

he added earnestly, "if our hearts were but filled with love to God and to each other, for then there would be no room for a single unkind thought or angry feeling. So, Tom, let us always pray that the love of God may be shed abroad in our hearts.""_ Elihu Burritt's Bond of Brotherhood.

BOYS, MIND YOUR MOTHER.

Come, boys, here is a story for you. I want you all to come together and listen. I was a boy once, and I recollect a little how boys feel. I am a man now, but I have had as much to do with boys aa I have had with men.

I suppose you all have a mother. What I want to tell you is, how you ought to treat your mother. When I was a boy, no larger than you are, my mother used to tell me that she never knew any one to prosper who did not treat his mother well. She said that when she was young she knew several children who did not honour their mothers, and that they all came to a bad end.

There were several boys among my acquaintances, whom I knew to have disobeyed and ill-treated their mothers. I thought I would remember them, and see how they turned out in the world. I should think it was as much as fifteen years ago. Their names were William, George, and Herbert. I remember as distinctly as though it were but yesterday. They were my classmates at school. I remember their mother perfectly well, for many a play afternoon have I spent at their house.

William was a very pleasant boy, and a fine scholar. One afternoon I was at his father's house. We were playing on the green in front of the door. William's mother stepped upon the door-stone and called him. We were busily engaged in play with some other boys, and William took no notice of his mother's call. After she had spoken several times, he stopped a moment to hear what she had to say.

"I want you to go down to the shop, and earry this box to your father," said his mother.

"But I don't want to go, mother." "Well, you must go."

"But I'm playing, and I can't go." "William, I tell you, you must go, for

your father must have this immediately." Just then one side of the party who were playing ball had beaten the other. William heard the merry hurrah, and exclaimed, "Well, I won't go there." He picked up a stick, and, throwing it at his mother, ran eagerly off to join the victors. I turned just in time to see the stick fall from his mother's dress, and to see how sad she looked as she went into the house.

I never before saw a boy strike his mother, and it made me feel so sad that I could not play. I told the boys I believed I must go home. I walked away, thinking of what my mother had told me. I thought I would always remember William, and see if he prospered.

Perhaps it would have been better if William's mother had spoken more kindly to him. But what I want to tell you is, what became of him. Before he grew up he was taken very sick, and after many years of great suffering he died.

The next boy was George. His mother indulged him very much. She used to let him do pretty much as he chose; and anything he wanted she was sure to do for him, but anything she wanted he was sure not to do for her. In fact, he seemed to have much less regard for his mother than for an older scholar, who used to be a leader in all our sports. He never minded anything his mother said to him, and his mother might as well have talked to the currantbushes in the garden, as have asked him to do an errand. He always acted as if he felt, if he did not say, "I don't care for my mother." Well, George is dead, too. He became dissipated, lost his character, and died a miserable death.

Herbert was much like William and George, if anything. He not only did not care for what his mother said, but used to ridicule her before the other boys. He used to do it, to be sure, in a good-humoured way, but, after all, it was a great way off from the respect that was due to his mother. And what do you suppose became of Herbert? His end was more miserable than that of William or of George. I shall not tell you exactly what became of him, for it is a more dreadful story than I love to relate. But I can never think of him without remembering the text, "The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it" (Prov. xxx. 17).

THE INFLUENCE OF MAN OVER MAN.The world is filled with the countless and interlacing filaments of influence, that spread from each individual over the whole surface and frame-work of society. The infant that lies wailing and helpless in the arms of its mother, is already wielding an influence felt through the whole household, by his fretfulness disturbing, or by his serene smiles gladdening, that entire home; and, as with added years his faculties are expanded, and the sphere of his activity widens itself, his influence increases; and every man whom he meets, much more whom he moulds and governs, becomes the more happy or the more wretched, the better or the worse, according to the character of his spirit and example. Nor can he strip from himself this influence. If he flee away from the society of his fellows to dwell alone in the wilderness, he leaves behind him the example of neglected duty, and the memory of disregarded love, to curse the family he has abandoned. Even in the pathless desert he finds his own feet caught in the thorns and entangled web of influence that bound him to society, and his cords remain wherever he was once known, sending home to the hearts that twined around him sorrow and pain. Nor can the possessor expect it to go down into the grave with him. The sepulchre may have closed in silence over him, and his name may have perished from among men, yet his influence, nameless as it is, and untraceable by the human eye, is floating over the face of society. As, in the external and visible world, the fall of a pebble agitates, not perceptibly indeed, yet really, the whole mass of the earth; thus in the world of morals every act of every spirit is telling upon the whole system of 'moral beings to which God has bound him. No man leaves the world in all things such as he found it. The habits which he was instrumental in forming may go on from century to century, an heir-loom for good or for evil, doing their work of misery or of happiness, blasting or blessing the country that has now lost all records of his memory. In the case of some, this influence is most sensible. Every age beholds and owns their power. Such men have lived. The church yet feels throughout all lands the influence of the thoughts that passed, perhaps, in the solitude of midnight, through the bosom of Paul, as he sat in the shadows of his prison, an old and unbefriended man; thoughts which, lifting his manacled hands, he spread in his epistles before the eyes of men, there to remain for ever. They feel the effect of the pious meditations of David while roaming on the hill-side, an humble shepherd lad; of the family piety of Abraham; and of the religious nurture that trained up the infancy of Moses. Every nation is affected at this moment by the moral power that emanated from the despised Noah, as that preacher of righ

teousness sat among his family, perhaps dejected and faint with unsuccessful toil, teaching them to call upon God, when all the families of the earth besides had forgotten him. And if the mind, taking its flight from the narrow precincts of these walls, were to wander abroad along the peopled highways, and to the farthest hamlets of our own land, and, passing the seas, to traverse distant realms and barbarous coasts, every man whom its travels met, nay, every being of human mould that has ever trodden this earth in earlier ages, or that is now to be found among its moving myriads, has felt or is feeling the influence of the thoughts of a solitary woman, who, centuries since, stood debating the claims of conscience and of sin amid the verdant glories of the yet unforfeited paradise.—Dr. Williams.

"ALL AT IT, AND ALWAYS AT IT."-This was what Wesley endeavoured to impress upon all his followers, and this is what we should like to see impressed upon the mind of every member of every christian church. We have much to do, and we have little time to do it in. We had need therefore be up and at it. If ignorance is to be chased away, if knowledge is to be circulated, if souls are to be saved, if children are to be taught, if churches are to be enlarged, if villages, towns, and cities are to be evangelized, we had need be all at it, and always at it. There is plenty for every one to do, there is more than we shall all accomplish, much will be left undone, as it has been until the present day, except we all go at it, and are always at it. Christians cannot be happy, churches will not prosper, Jesus will not have his right, God will not be glorified as he should be, except we are all at it, and always at it. This is just what the times call for, what the gospel inculcates, what Satan dreads, what the carnal world dislikes, what is absolutely necessary to meet the claims made upon the church, therefore let us be "all at it, and always at it." Let every one have his own plot to cultivate, let every one undertake that part of the work for which he is most adapted, and let us all persevere in that which we commence. How many there are who profess Christ who are doing nothing. How many may do just as much again as they do. Is it surprising that the church is low, that popery spreads, that ignorance prevails, that congregations are thin, that little is accomplished, that ministers are dispirited, and old christians who are going home sigh? Nay, it is not at all surprising; the wonder is that things are not worse. fessors forget their vocation, believers lose sight of their proper business, and, while this is the case, error will spread, sinners will be hardened, Satan will triumph, and the church must droop. Self-denial is rarely practised, the flesh is indulged, the world is loved, the visible is preferred to the invisible, and the present to the future.

Pro

There must be a change, or the time will soon come, when judgment will begin at the house of God. The day appears to be going away, and the shadows of evening to be stretched out; let us therefore awake to righteousness, and spread the knowledge of God. Let us all go at it, and let us be always at it, until the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. Until there shall be no need for every one to say to his neighbour, and to his brother, know the Lord, for all shall know him, from the least unto the greatest. Until the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh see it together, as the mouth of the Lord hath spoken. Or, until we hear the Master's voice calling unto us and saying, "Well done, good and faithful servants, enter ye into the joy of your Lord." But if we neglect duty, despise warning, love ease, court pleasure, for honour hide our Lord's money, or settle down upon our lees, we shall by and bye see the day when we shall wish we had all been at it, and always at it.-James Smith.

PRIVILEGES OF THE SABBATH.-The Sabbath is the day when you may sit down to the bible without fear of disturbance. It is the day when, with our sinless progenitors, you may take the tour of Paradise, and listen to the anthems of a newly-created world. It is the day when, alongside of Enoch, you may feed the flame of devotion, and try to divine the wonder, and imbibe the ardour, of a walk with God. It is the day when, according to your various mood, you may mourn with Abraham at Macpelah, or meditate with Isaac in the fields of Mamre, or go down into Egypt to view Joseph in all his glory. It is the day when you may bid Jacob's star twinkle anew, and Zechariah's fountain flow amain. It is the day when you may fill your ear with draughts of melody from David's sounding lyre, or let your spirits ride aloft on Ezekiel's flying wheels. It is the day when you may take a pleasant walk to Bethany or Emmaus, or, a fourth disciple, ascend Tabor with Peter, and James, and John. It is the day when, with Mary, you may clasp that cross which quivers no longer, and look up to those pale and painless lips, which need never repeat, "It is finished," and gaze on that countenance, in death so divine, and beneath its thorny crown so blissful and so benign, till it says to you, "Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven." It is the day when, in the upper chamber, you may listen to a sermon of Paul; or, a pilgrim to Patmos along with the beloved disciple, see Jesus again. And it is the day for prayerthe Sabbath itself one closet, and your quiet chamber another-a closet within a closet, when you may surely shut out the world, and get very near to God; the day for looking back, for confession, for eyeing the Lamb that was slain; the day for looking forward, for self-dedication, for holy resolutions, for obedience begun anew. And it is the day for public worship, when the glad bells say, "Go ye up to the house of the Lord," and the willing worshiper answers,

"Thy face, Lord, will I seek." And it is the day for christian converse; when, coming from the house of God in company, pious friends take counsel one with another; and when, under the quiet roof, they read, or go over the sermons, or commune together. And it is the day for family instruction, when the hymns are said, and the chapters read, and the truth in Jesus expounded, and when the father affectionately strives to leave the lessons of heavenly wisdom imbedded in filial love. It is the day for the Sabbath school, and the prayermeeting, and the visit of mercy. It is the day when, so that you do not exhaust yourself or overtask others, you may give every moment to the one thing needful; the day which is b st employed, when the soul gets all, and heaven gets all, and God gets all. -Dr. James Hamilton.

FAITH'S HARD FIGHT.-It is not easy to walk by faith. "Who is sufficient for these things?" What need have the best of us with increasing earnestness to cry, "Lord, increase our faith!" Among things seen, to love the unseen,-to be in the world, and not of it, to live below, and yet to dwell above, never to forget our home yonder in the sunniest hours of a home here,-to obey the apostolic injunction, for them who have wives to be as though they had none, -for them that weep to be as though they wept not, for them that rejoice to be as though they rejoiced not,-for them that buy to be as those that possessed not,-for a king to remember that he is but a beggar at his prayers, for a Lazarus at the gate to remember that he shall be a king in glory, to believe that God is kind when his hand is smiting and this flesh smarting, -to be content that Christ came down into our garden and plucked the sweetest flower in unblown bud or blossom, even to place it in his own bosom,-when the screws go into the coffin, and the mould rattles hollow on its lid, to rise to the scene where the spirit shines and sings in glory, these, I grant, are no easy things. Faith has a hard fight of it, but she shall have a grand victory, a rough passage of it, but she shall have a happy landing. Angels throng the shore, Jesus, with a train of saints, awaits the believer's coming. To those who mourn departed saints, we say, "Weep not for the dead." Happy are they who are anchored in the desired haven, they are with the Lord, they are at home,-they are at rest; and is not that better than to be left to battle here with fierce tempests, and a troubled sea?-An old writer.

SPEAK TO SINNERS." Run, speak to this young man," said the angel to the prophet. Reader, are your thoughts particularly directed to the case of some individual; and do you feel anxious for his salvation? Does something within you say, Speak to him? It is a suggestion of the Holy Spirit. And the same divine impulse that has moved you to speak, may have opened the heart of the individual to hear you. Now is the time. Improve it; be faithful; and pray for a blessing upon the word spoken.