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Edayside Notes.

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" Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night -

Isa. xi. 11. Oh, thou seer of Israel! as the door of 1870 fot etez cases, ani v look out upon the untrodden space before us, we respoad to the input. It appears to us that the night is far spent, that the world is giring sisi in wickedness, and that the great and terrible One, who sitteth circle of the beavens, looking down upon all, cannot long stay Hishani a its destruction, preparatory to which He is fast gabering brease His scia to Himself.

But have you not taken up the pen in a censozious spárit? Way task the world is growing old in wickedness, when the general idea is that is highly religious, and many declare that it will soon besme contertai? O thou mistaken watchmen, that blow not the trumpet of the Let In the language of Dante, “Ye go forth and preach in prata o tra world; and in the language of a far greater: "The peoplata per lies in my name. I sent them not, neither have I saisissa neither spake I unto them: they prophecy the deszit of their sisar.

Does the world grow better? Has the cherished marta of Gram brought about the promised universal brotherhood? Or has the mos ence of International Exhibitions bound the nations of the earth wera, as it was thought they would ? Let the disastrous wars 187), and their attendant horrors, answer the question.

Two hundred thousand of our fellow creatures have fallen by the swad, and their gory bodies lie a few feet only under the surfasses of the matha earth. Oh! does the world grow better? Let the widous wail and the fatherless children, who are as grasshoppers in the land, respond to the inquiry. There is something deeply humiliating in the fits that surround us; and, in their contemplation, the soul of the Christian weaps in secret places because of the abounding wickedness of the world, aad the painful lessons the past eventful year has tanght us.

But some will say, You are taking only one aspect of the world. Look at the upper strata of society, where surely all is excellent. Ah, featherd and flounced refinement! thy secrets lurk in the dark, and that under thy fine and fair show there lies a heart of deceit, let the outrageous " baby farms” of the present day bear witness. Does the could grow better? But let us turn from it. ir tai puido en

Oh! sickening world, we are heartily tired of t1 for the living family of God, the salt of the earth putrefaction; but where are the members of scattered, how few are the kindred spirits who lo Jesus! There may be a few favoured spots where around the faithful preaching of the mud, but mostly rows alone on the house top. ord thinint ones—many in one's own circle dur

? past year aye as one sorts the numbers of this M for Winding ti

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