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cry unto a God mighty to heal and to with.” The colporteur replied, "It i save, went up from that low house in a fearful thing to fall into the hands o the woods. The minister felt no wants the living God!” of the body-ate nothing but the bread Fifteen months afterwards, the same of life from heaven, remembered no colporteur stopped for a night ata? thing but the needs of this poor, fam | inn more than three hundred miles ishing soul beside him, until, at last, from Toulon. The landlady was in as the sun went down, another sun great distress, having just lost her son arose — the Sun of Righteousness. of whom she spoke in terms of the Black Jake understood what it was to most tender affection. He converse be as a little child, God's child.

with her for a few moments, when sh Through the silent woods, moist withdrew, but soon returned, bringing with falling dew, under the far, still a little book which her deceased 807 stars, the minister walked home. | had left to her as his precious legacr. Heavenly peace was in his soul; and It was much mutilated, many page he felt no sense of fatigue or hunger, having been torn out. But on the infor the bread of life sustained him. side of the cover, written in large letThat day he felt God had spoken to ters, was the following inscription:his soul, and rebuked his discontent. | “Received at Toulon, on the -He had asked for a sign from heaven, 1855. Despised at first, and badly and it seemed to him that heaven used, but afterwards read, believed itself had opened, and revealed a and made the instrument of my sal glimpse of the eternal glory.

vation. J. L., fusilier of the 4t] He went home in a mood of exalta- | company of the -- regiment of te tion and thanksgiving as natural to line.” his sensitive temperament as the deep From the condition of the little depression of the morning; but he had volume, it was plain that the young learned thoroughly one lesson. In soldier had made use of the missing after years, when from Sunday to Sun- | leaves to light his pipe, as he had day he saw Black Jake, “clothed and | boasted he should. But, as he rein his right mind," waiting eagerly for lated to his mother, this work his words, he never dared again to destruction was stopped on the en dream of going away from his work. before a battle, in which his regimen Enough for him to sow his seed be was to occupy the perilous posto side all waters, for who could tell by the advanced guard. He stated the what sun or shower the Father would at this juncture serious thoughts card see fit to give the increase ?

into his mind in a very strange mati ner; and all on a sudden the word

of the man whom he had tricked our WHAT IT DID FOR HIM.

of the book came to his recollectini

like a thunderclap—“It is a fearth A REGIMENT of French soldiers, on thing to fall into the hands of th4 their march to the Crimea, halted for living God!” “And if I should und some days at Toulon, in the south of | into his hands !!This thought hsuntFrance. While there, a colporteur | ed him, he said, without intermission came among them. A.young soldier, the whole of the night; and, in cur. pretending to be much moved by the sequence, as soon as it became lizb? good man's exhortations, asked for a in the morning, he took from ben

ook, which was, of course given to knapsack the book which appeared te him. The soldier and his comrades have become his accuser. The versen roared with laughter, telling the poor which he had read in the dim gray colporteur that it was all a joke; but light of that morning had been brough the soldier refused to return the book, | home to his heart by the Holy Spirit saying “it would do to light his pipe | In the battle which ensued he was a

cely wounded. Old things had | retraced my steps; the cold felt keener ssed away, and he now realized the also, and a sharp east wind had risen. ath of the faithful saying, “Verily, At times I grew almost breathless with rily, I say unto you, he that heareth the struggle, and had to pause for

word, and believeth on Him that gathering strength ere I faced the at me, hath everlasting life, and storm once more. At length I rejoiced all not come into condemnation; but to see the guiding-post, which was wassed from death unto life.”

placed where three roads met and 4ter removal from one hospital to against which I was thankful to lean Esther, he was brought back to his for a few seconds, until I had recovered me about six weeks before the visit, breath. I was just on the point of the colporteur. The mutilated tes- i starting off afresh, when a faint sound ent was scarcely ever out of his / of a human voice caught my ear. and during his waking moments. | Startled, I listened, but all was still.

as the only one he ever possessed I shaded my eye with my hand, and -perhaps the only one in his native | stared anxiously into the surrounding Lage. His mouth was full of tender | darkness; but nought could I discern auraties that his dear mother and beyond a wilderness of snow, and I was Beds might embrace Christ and His just concluding my imagination had a tation. To his very last breath deceived me, when again the same jou kind not to exhort them all to murmur came floating through the air. Typ: God's offered mercy in Jesus, Feeling that, with the guide-post so i not to run the risk of falling, in near, I could scarcely lose my way, I a llaconrerted state, “into the hands hastened forward in the direction of the living God."

the sound, and soon distinctly heard a child's voice repeating the Lord's prayer. It had a strange effect in such

a storm at such a place, and my heart THE SNOW-STORM.

| beat high when the gentle “Amen” FOR THE YOUNG.

was said.

I called out, “Whose voice is that?” It was a dark December night, wild but there was no reply. I called again

stormy. Ever since mid-day the more loudly than before, and then the CT had fallen with unwearying per timid answer came, “Johnnie's,” and prance, and now lay deep on the a few steps brought me to a boy some sund. I had been detained at my eight years old, standing shivering in

later than usual, and had to the snow. a dreary moor for some two miles “My poor little man,” I said, “ are rach my home. I confess I felt you all alone?” w at the prospect of such a walk "No," he replied, “Nelly is here, svh a storm; but wrapping my but she grew so cold and tired I could til around me, and staff in hand, I not get her on, and now she is fast "forward, thinking of the bright | asleep. I felt sleepy, too, but thought

home I should soon reach, and I would say my prayers first;" and as * dear ones who were waiting my | I stooped down to the bundle of snow un with a loving welcome. Soon he had indicated as being “Nelly," he left the busy town with its many whispered softly, “Has Jesus sent ents behind me, and stepped out into dismal moor. The snow lay much “Surely he has,” I answered, “had per here on the untrodden footpath, you not said your prayers, Johnnie,

seemed to fall more heavily than you might both have perished. But Lore-so thick and blinding, that I how came you here, my boy?find myself perpetually straying from “We went into town this morning proper roadway, and with difficulty ; to see grandma--it was snowing then,"


he said innocently, “when we left “No, no," I answered cheerily; “ I home."

cannot leave you behind, Johnnie; "And where is your home?" I you must just make a horse of me, asked, “and who is your father?” and mount my back. There you are

“Farmer Rutland," he replied; “we now, hold me fast round the neck, and live at High Farm.”

whip hard to make me go better." “High Farm" happened to lie on | And again I started forward, endeethe road to my own house, so I told vouring to keep him awake with quesJohnnie we would all go home together. tions and little sallies; but I felt the He rejoiced when he heard my name, additional burden in such a storm and remarked to himself, “How well becoming beyond my already exhausti it was I said my prayers !".

strength, when suddenly a waverin I found Nelly indeed half asleep, speck of light shot out of the darkness wrapped in a heavy care, which the then vanished, then appeared ono devoted little fellow had divested him more, becoming nearer and brigliter self of in his endeavour to keep her I hallooed loudly, and my shout wa warm. Nor could I induce him to put answered, and Johnnie called out in it on until he saw me raise Nelly ton- faint and glad voice, “Oh, that' derly in my arms, and wrapping her father!” And happily so it was; t. in my great plaid, gathered her close poor farmer becoming alarmed at th to my bosom, prepared to carry her. lengthened absence of his children

“Now, Johnnie," I said, “ you keep had started with his two men and hold of the skirt of my coat, and we lantern in search of them, and ITA shall soon be at High Farm.”

tears of thankfulness fell from his ete: The cold seemed to have become when he beheld his loved ans. more intense, the falling snow moro Johnnie was at once taken into bus dense than ever. Manfully the little loving arms, and a quarter of an hour': fellow kept up to my side, though the walk brought us to the farm, whet snow by this time reached above his the anxious mother received us. Ness knees. I tried to cheer him as we was soon aroused by the warmth all trudged along, but I felt the drag upon light of the great fire, little or not my coat becoming greater, and it was the worse for the night's adventur evident his strength and heart were but poor Johnnie was sadly fros failing him --- then a suppressed sob bitten, and it was long before he te broke from him, and he clung more covered. closely to me as I bent down trying to Deep was the gratitude of the boaps soothe and comfort him.

couple for the aid I had afforded the "You are a brave little man," I beloved children, who, doubtless, orui said, “we will soon reach the farm powered with sleep, would have been now; think of the bright fire there, hidden in the snow ere their father by the nice warm milk and bread, and reached them, and must inevitab mother's loying kiss all waiting for have perished, but for the prayer Thir: you."

Johnnie's trusting, simple heart had "I cannot walk farther,” he sobbed." prompted, and had been the means « Oh, take Nelly home, but let me lie with God's blessing, of my savin down here. I will say my prayers them. again, and perhaps Jesus will send some one else to help me.”

Gems from Golden Mines.

THE FAILURE OF FAMILY | siderthiscommon disagreement between

the prayers, even the fervent prayers RELIGION.

of the family, and all other concerns, Tax father prays in the morning | enjoyments, and ends of the common Ebat his children may grow up in the life beside, that so many fine shows of Lund, and calls it even the principal family piety are yet followed by so

vad of their life that they are to be much of godless and even reprobate christians, living to God, and for character in the children.-Dr. Bushba Forld to come. Then he goes out nell.

the field or the shop, or the house trade, and delving there all day in Lin gains, keeps praying from morning

DISSATISFACTION. : Light, without knowing it, that his amily may be rich. His plans and A MAN in his carriage was riding corks, faithfully seconded by an along, Bectionate wife, pull exactly con- | A gaily dressed wife by his side ; nry to the pull of his prayers, In satin and laces, sho looked like a od to all their common teach queen, gin religion. Their tempers are And he like a king in his pride.

ildly, and make a worldly atmohere in the house. Pride, the am A wood sawyer stood in the street as Son of show and social standing, envy they passed, | What is above, jealousy of what is

The carriage and couple he eyed, Oy, follies of dress and fashion, and And said as he worked with a saw on 1- more foolish elation felt when a

a log, 5 is praised or a daughter admired

“I wish I was rich and could ride." . the matter of personal appearance, ! what is no better, a manifest pre The man in the carriage remaked to og and foretasting of this folly,

his wife : en the son or daughter is so young

“One thing I would give if I could - to be the more certainly poisoned

| I'd give all my wealth for the strengt the infection of it. Oh, these un

and the health | ken damning prayers! how many Of the man that saweth the wood.” ra they, and how totally do they fill

the days! Themornings open with A pretty young maid, with a bundle reverent fervent-sounding prayer of of work, ards, and then the days come after Whose face as the morning was fair, Lag up petitions of ends, aims, tem- | Went tripping along, with a smile o 13, passions, and works, that ask for delight, Eything and everything but what While humming a love-breathing -cords with the genuine rule of re air.

Hon. The prayer of the morning is hat the son, the daughter, all the ¡ She looked on the carriage--the lady =IB, all the daughters, may be

she saw neistians; and then the prayers that Arrayed in apparel so fine, 2.10w are for anything but that, or And said in a whisper, “I wish from ething, in fact, most contrary to my heart Est. Is it any wonder, when we con- ! Those sitors and laces were mic."

The lady looked out on the inaid with | rooted on certainty ; it is not the outher work,

flowing of a soul assured of pardon, So fair in her calico dress,

and rejoicing in the filial relationship A nd said, “I'd relinquish possession between itself and God. Hence there and wealth,

is no liberty of service, for the quesHer beauty and youth to possess." tion of personal acceptance is still an

unsettled thing; there is a working And thus, in this world, whatever

for pardon, but not from pardon. All our lot,

is thus bondage, heaviness, irksomeOur minds and our time we employ,

ness. There is a speaking for God, In longing and sighing for what we

but it is with a faltering tongue; have not,

there is a labouring for God, but it is Ungrateful for what we enjoy. with fettered hands; there is a moring We welcome the pleasure for which we

in the way of His commandments, but have sighed ;

it is with a heavy drag upon our limbs. The heart has a void in it still, Hence the inefficient, uninfluential Growing deeper and wider the longer

character of our religion. It does not we live,

tell on others, for it has not yet fully That nothing but heaven can fill.

told upon ourselves. It falls short of its mark, for the arm that drew the box

is paralysed. THE RELIGION OF THE AGE.

THE religion of the age is an easy THE WORLD OF THE minded religion, without conflict and

CHRISTIAN. wrestling, without self-denialand sacrifice ; a religion which knows nothing of This world is not yours; thank the pangs of the new birth at its com God, it is not. It is dropping away mencement, and nothing of the despe- | from you like worn-out autumn raio struggle with the flesh and with leaves ; but beneath it, hidden in it, the devil, day by day, making us long there is another world lying as the for resurrection deliverance, for the flower lies in the bud. That is your binding of the adversary, and for the world, which must burst forth at last Lord's arrival. It is a second-rate re- | into eternal luxuriance. All you ligion; a religion in which there is no stand on, see, and love is but the hus. largeness, no grandeur, no potency, of something better. Things 47 no noble-mindedness, no elevation, no passing; our friends are dropping oti self-devotedness, no all-constraining from us; strength is giving way; out love. It is a hollow religion, with a relish for earth is going, and the worl] fair exterior, but an aching heart; a no longer wears to our hearts the riheart unsatisfied, a soul not at rest, a diance that once it wore. We hati conscience not at peace with God; a the same sky above us, and the side religion marked, it may be, by activity scenes around us; but the freski and excitement, but betraying all the that our hearts extracted from everywhile the consciousness of a wound thing in boyhood, and the glory that hidden and unhealed within, and hence seemed to rest once on earth and life. unable to animate to lofty doings, or has faded away for ever. Sad so supply the strength needed for such gloomy truths to the man who is godoings. It is a feeble religion, lacking | ing down to the grave with his wurá the sinews and bones of hardier times; undone! Not sad to the Christine, very different from the indomitable, but rousing, exciting, invigorating much-enduring, storm-braving reli If it be the eleventh hour, we have u gion, not merely of apostolic days, but time for folding of the hands; wew even of the Reformation. It is an un- work the faster. Through the chan?

in religion; that is to say, not fulness of life ; through the solens

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