of exceptional richness and beauty-the more apparent from the sterility of the region below. The Sinaitic peninsula is meager in vegetation; probably far more so now than when the Israelites wandered amid its flinty wastes. There is not much variety nor brilliance in its productions-here and there a clump of palms, where a little underground moisture suffices for the spongy roots; the "burning-bush;" much broom, with its canopy of white flowers; shrubs of myrrh clinging to the rocks; a few little blue and yellow-flowered plants of prickly herbage, on which the camels love to feed; acacia, tamarisk, willow, hawthorn, and hollyhock, along the ravines; some beautiful flowers, and plenty of herbs; but, in general, desolation and barrenness in comparison with the Promised Land. But, as one approaches the south country, the aspect changes. Around Beersheba it seems a struggle between desert and cultivation; even there, however, hyacinths, crocuses, lilies, and other elegant flowers, bloom on the very outskirts of the waste. Then, all at once, a new scene opens to the delighted eye. So fair, said one, was Hebron, with its velvety sward spotted with daisies and blood red anemones, with its "white roses on their brier-bushes," that it was like a glimpse of a green nook in England. No other such blooming spot presents itself until we reach Shechem, which is almost a paradise.

Though there is a great apparent variety in the character of the soil of Palestine, and mountain-ridges and dry water-courses contrast with rich plains and valleys, the general appearance is that of sterility. But this must, to a considerable degree, be deceptive; for the land once so rich in corn and oil, and capable of supporting such a large population, would, under careful management and irrigation, prove fruitful again. Many of the best fruits of the earth adapt themselves easily to the climate, and yield rich returns. Under no conditions, however, could any other portions compare with some of the upper plains, which are marvellous for fertility. Near by where Jacob's sons took their flocks when the grass nearer home had dried up, the white clover grows to the height of two feet; and grass intermingled with wild oats and daisies grow so tall, that a man riding on horseback finds their tops reaching to the horse's shoulders, and the sheep and goats feeding there can hardly be seen-like the rich bottom-lands of the West for fertility, says one.

It is there, and on Carmel and Tabor and the neighboring hills, that flowers most abound. The south country is by far outrivalled by Sharon and Tabor and the regions around Nazareth and Capernaum. Those broad levels and grassy slopes are variegated like our Western prairies. The flowers are a wonder for profusion, gorgeousness, and variety. You cannot set your foot down

without crushing them; and their brilliance is unsurpassable. One writer speaks of being at Carmel in April, and counting fortyfour kinds of flowers immediately around him, without including all. They were perishable, and would be gone in a month. Here are a few of those which he noticed: "Tall red hollyhocks, pink convolutions, valerian, a beautiful large red lilium, gladiolus, cerum, red tulip, ranunculus (large and red), pheasant's-eye of endless varieties, cyclamen," etc., and many very handsome flowering-shrubs. To the list, either in bloom then, or to come later, might doubtless be added iris, crocus, and hyacinth of almost every hue; mallows, linum, cistus, geranium; the little white flower called Star of Bethlehem; orchid, daisy, pink, rose, and poppy; anemone, tulip, narcissus, amaryllis; a splendid hibiscus ; and many others.-Christian Banner.

REST.

The mind is best rested by diversion to a different subject of thought, or by muscular activities; the most complete rest is that which sleep gives; after great mental excitement sleep is often impossible, but if there is diversion in muscular occupation for a while refreshing sleep will follow.

Rachel, the greatest tragic actor of her day, on returning to her rooms after a theatrical performance of an extraordinarily exciting character, found most rest in changing the furniture of the room, or from one room to another. This had the double effect of diverting the blood from the brain, and of giving exit to the nervous excitement through the muscles.

Some persons, at the end of a public address, find themselves in such a state of mental excitement that they cannot rest, especially as the mind will run back on the performance, going round in a circle all the time. Such should go at once into lively company, or engage in active exercise or exciting work; if these are not practicable, the perusal of a newspaper or book of short sentences or proverbs is a good substitute.

If from any cause a man feels himself almost exhausted, mentally or muscularly, a cup of hot black tea affords an instantaneous and most delightful relief.

If very tired physically, lie on the back, knees drawn up, the hands clasped above the head, or resting on the elbows, the forearm at right angles, and the hand hanging over by the bend of

the wrists.

Some persons are best rested by lying on the face for a while. Sometimes persons become tired and restless in bed, being waked up, and cannot go to sleep again. Rest and sleep may be often had by getting up and using a

TOWEL BATH,

thus: Take a towel, dip a corner of it in water, cold or warm, as is most agreeable, lay the dampened part flat on the hand, and with mouth shut and breast protruding, rub the whole surface of the body, fast and hard, as far as can be reached in every direction, and then go to bed again; the feeling of refreshment and vigor, from such an operation, properly performed, is often-times most agreeable, to be followed by quick and delicious sleep, provided the mind is not bent on disagreeable topics. If so, it is better to get up, dress, and go to work, or take a trot on a horse, even if it be at midnight. These turmoils and wrestlings of the mind at night must be terrible.-Hall's Journal of Health.

THE YOUNG BANKER IN NEW YORK.

I have just come across a letter from an eminent clergyman to his son who was then in college, and is now one of the most successful business men in New York.

"It is easy, my son, to tell you how to be happy. Set your heart on God. Say to yourself, God made me, and has a right to me, and shall have my whole heart. Make it your business to prepare to be useful. Do nothing merely because you love to, unless it be right, and wise, and good. Do nothing that you will have to deny you did. Do nothing that you will be ashamed of having done. Do right. Do unto others as you would that they should do to you. Be the best scholar you can be. Lose no time; "Read your Bible daily, and every day pray for heavenly wisdom. Refuse to be found in the company of vile men. Remember that character is made up of morsels; every look and gesture, word and smile and frown constitutes each its distinct morsel of that character.

time is money.

"O my son, you cannot cease to be till the sun goes out, and time runs out, and eternity wears out, and God shall cease to be. Now one that must live so long, and whose happiness through all that long life depends wholly on character, cannot take too much pains in forming that character just right. I embrace religion, of

course, in my calculations respecting character. What will render us estimable in the sight of God as well as in the sight of men, is above all price.

"It will soon be too late. The college character is fixed the first year; and the character for life fixed in college, and the character for eternity, fixed in early life. Now you must love your Maker, or what can you love? Must care for what He says, or whom can you care for, or what? How tremendous are the months that are now rolling over you-months that will tell on your character and destiny, when myriads of ages have rolled away."-American Messenger.

LAND POOR.

BY ROBERT COLLINS.

I've had another offer, wife-a twenty acres more,
Of high and dry parairie land, as level as a floor,

I thought I'd wait and see you first, as Lawyer Brady said,
To tell how things will turn out best, a woman is ahead.

And when the lot is paid for, and we have got the deed,
I'll say that I am satisfied,-it's all the land we need.
And next we'll see about the yard, and fix the house up some,
And manage in the course of time to have a better home.

WIFE.

There is no use of talking, Charles,-you buy that twenty more,
And we'll go skimping all our lives, and always be Land Poor.
For thirty years we've tugged and saved, denying half our needs,
While all we have to show for it is tax receipts and deeds!

I'd sell the land if it were mine, and have a better home,
With broad, light rooms to front the street, and take life as it come.
If we could live as others live, and have what others do,
We'd live enough sight pleasanter, and have a plenty too.

While others have amusements, and luxury and books,

Just think how stingy we have lived, and how this old place looks.
That other farm you bought of Wells, that took so many years
Of clearing up, and fencing in, has cost me many tears.

Yes, Charles, I've thought of it a hundred times or more,
And wondered if it really paid to always be Land Poor;
That had we built a cozy house, took pleasure as it come,
Our children once so dear to us, had never left our home.

I grieve to think of wasted weeks, and years, and months, and days,
While for it all we never yet have had one word of praise.
Men call us rich, but we are poor,-would we not freely give
The land with all its fixtures, for a better way to live?

Don't think I'm blaming you, Charles,-you are not a whit to blame,
I've pitied you these many years, to see you tired and lame.
It's just the way we started out, our plans too far ahead;

We've worn the cream of life away, to leave too much when dead.

'Tis putting off enjoyments long after we enjoy,

And after all, too much of wealth seems useless as a toy,

Although we've learned, alas, too late! what all must learn at last,
Our brightest earthly happiness is buried in the past.

That life is short and full of care, the end is always nigh,
We seldom half begin to live before we're doomed to die,
Were I to start my life again, I'd mark each separate day,
And never let a single one pass unenjoyed away.

If there were things to envy, I'd have them now and then,
And have a home that was a home, and not a cage or pen.
I'd sell some land if it were mine, and fill up well the rest,
I've always thought, and think so yet,-small farms well worked, are best.

GIVING JOY TO A CHILD.

Blessed be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may again bloom forth. Does not almost everybody remember some kind-hearted man who showed him a kindness in the dulcet days of his childhood? The writer of this recollects himself, at this moment, a barefooted lad, standing at the wooden-fence of a poor little garden in his native village, while with longing eyes he gazed on the flowers which were blooming there quietly in the brightness of a Sabbath morning. The possessor came forth from his little cottage; he was a woodcutter by trade, and spent the whole week at work in the woods. He had come into the garden to gather flowers to stick in his coat when he went to Church. He saw the boy, and breaking off the most beautiful of his carnations-it was streaked with red and white he gave it to him. Neither the giver nor the receiver spoke a word, and with bounding steps the boy ran home. And now here, at a vast distance from that home, after so many events of so many years, the feeling of gratitude which agitated the breast of that boy expresses itself on paper. The carnation has long since faded, but it now blooms afresh.-Douglas Jerrold.