and cheerful hope, and a happy heart, she welcomed the Glad New Year. The Angel over the Right Shoulder would go with her, and, if she were found faithful, would strengthen and comfort her to its close.

THE WAY WITH SOME PEOPLE.

Mr. S once employed a shoemaker to run a few stitches in a boot, for which service he was asked half-a-crown. The demand was considered exorbitant, but Mr. Swas not a man to have a quarrel with his neighbour on a trifling matter, so without a word of objection the demand was paid. "All will come round right in the end," he said to himself.

Next morning, Mr. S-, who was a farmer, was on his way to his field with horses and plough, when the shoemaker came out of his shop and accosted him.

You're

"Good morning, Mr. S. just the man I wanted to see. The fact is, I've hired the field yonder, and am going to sow it with wheat; but being no farmer myself, I wish you would stop and give me a little insight into the business."

Mr. S was about to excuse himself, for he felt particularly anxious to finish a piece of ploughing that day, which he could not do, if detained at all; when, remembering the boot-mending, thought he, "The affair is coming right soon. Here is an opportunity for illustrating the Golden Rule, and returning good for evil. I will render the assistance he needs, and when asked what's to pay, will answer, 'Nothing, Sir, nothing. I never make account of these little neighbourly kindnesses.' That will remind him of yesterday."

So Mr. S readily consented to do as requested, and going over to the field, commenced and finished sowing a bushel of grain; scarcely thinking, meantime, of how his team was standing idle in the cool of the day; but glorying in anticipation of the smart his neighbour would suffer from the living coals about to be heaped upon his head. The employer, who, seated on a pile of stones in the centre of the field, had watched the process in silence, now rose to his feet, and very deliberately advanced towards the obliging farmer.

"Now for my revenge," thought the latter, seeing him about to speak; but the other only carelessly remarked, "It isn't much to do a thing when one knows how."

Mr. S made no reply, but stood awaiting the question, "How much do you ask for your labour ?" He waited in vain, however; the question was not asked. The other began to speak on different topics, and the farmer, unwilling to lose more time, turned and hurried away to where he had left his team.

He had gone some distance along the road, when a voice was heard calling,

"Hallo, Mr. S! Hold on there a minute."

Mr. S turned his head, and his neighbour, the shoemaker, beckoned him back.

"He's just thought of it," said Mr. S to himself, half impatient at being again stopped. "My triumph is likely to cost about as much as 'tis worth, but I'll have it, after all. Urge as he may, I won't take a halfpenny."

So saying, he secured his team to a post by the road-side, and ran back as far as the wall, against the opposite side of which the shoemaker was carelessly leaning.

"Why, how you puff, Mr. S―, there's no special haste called for. I merely thought to ask whether you don't imagine we shall have rain soon. You farmers pay more attention to these things than we mechanics do."

Mr. S coughed a full minute, and then answered that he really couldn't say, but it seemed pretty near cool enough for snow ;" and having given this opinion, he once more set his face farmward; musing, as he went, whether it might not have been well to have attached to the Golden Rule a modifying clause, suited to dealing with such people as his neighbour of the awl and last.

WHO WOULD BE PRAISED? "Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." -Prov. xxxi. 30.

The chapter in which this verse is found contains a description of a model woman, -one who may be regarded as a pattern to all her sex. Many after perusing it, may have laid down their bibles and thought, "Well, it is very pleasant to read of so lovely a character, but I doubt if such an one ever existed; were I to try with all my might I could never expect to arrive at such perfection." But the secret, I imagine, lies in the verse above quoted. Some may not comprehend how this can be, for I fancy I hear one say, "It is so pleasant to be beautiful, to be loved and admired, and to be in favour with all, that for all this to be styled 'deceitful and vain,' passes my understanding." Will you visit with me three scenes illustrative of the different parts of the text, and perhaps your opinions may undergo a little change?

We will imagine ourselves for a time in We the splendid palace of the Tuileries. view the gardens surrounding it laid out with great taste and variety. Everything to delight the eye and gratify the senses is here displayed in lovely profusion. Flowers of all colours bloom in rich luxuriance: nature and art seem to have combined to form this lovely spot into a second Eden. This is all very charming, and would entice us to linger; but we must hasten into the palace. Here a scene of magnificence and splendour bursts upon the vision, as we survey suites of apartments, furnished with all the grandeur that wealth can procure. We press forward through lofty halls and gorgeous drawing-rooms, where our eyes are dazzled by the profusion of superb and glittering ornaments; and now we have reached a room smaller than the rest, characterised by a simple elegance of arrangement and decoration, which indicate that its owner possesses a mind more than ordinarily refined and cultivated. attention is immediately arrested by the graceful figure of a lady in deep mourning, seated on a couch, overwhelmed with bitter sorrow. What is the cause of her grief? Can she want for anything while surrounded

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by all the comfort and ease that wealth cam procure or nature desire? Does she mourn the loss of her children, or the estrangement of their affections from her? The appearance of that beautiful girl, bending over her with such deep solicitude, and of that noble young man, whose hand is clasped in hers, his countenance betraying the deepest feeling for her suffering, and his only anxiety being how to administer comfort to her bursting heart, may well contradict this idea. Yes, these her two only children, love her tenderly, and well does she merit their affections. What, then, can be the cause of this misery? Perhaps she mourns the death of the husband of her youth, and feels that his place in her heart can be filled by no other. Alas, it is not his death she laments with such uncontrollable grief, but what to her is far worse, he is still living, but has deserted her. This is Josephine, but a few hours since the admired wife of Napoleon, Emperor of France. She had fondly imagined that nothing but death could separate her from him; he professed to love her so deeply, and his affection was returned seventy-fold from the depths of her warm and ardent soul. She did not remember that the favour of man is deceitful, nor was she ever instructed not to place her confidence in princes; therefore she was not prepared for the tidings that Napoleon was resolved to take another in her place, in order that his ambition might be satisfied by leaving an heir to his vast and newly acquired dominions.

We will pursue her history no farther, as all know how Napoleon's ambition received its reward; and how his cruelty to the faithful Josephine was returned into his own bosom with fearful vengeance by a retributive Providence.

Turn we now to another scene. Bidding adieu to France, we travel in imagination to Egypt; and instead of a magnificent palace like that we have just viewed, a solitary tomb arrests our attention. In our ideas, the tomb and the dead are inseparably connected; but now we have it presented before us inhabited for a time by a few living persons. They are evidently in a state of great alarm and agitation, for armed men are without, seeking to gain

admittance. Who would recognise in one of these miserable beings the once admired and beautiful Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt? But so it is. She had fled to this place to avoid being taken prisoner by the conquering Octavius. But she cannot long hide herself; even now the officers are at the gate of her strange fortress; they have soon accomplished their object, and she is reluctantly borne away to her own palace. She enters it, not as aforetime, its sole mistress, but as a prisoner, awaiting the further pleasure of her conqueror.

We may here stay awhile, and glance over her history, in order to see what relation it bears to the subject in hand.

Cleopatra has been celebrated as the most beautiful of women. But what has her beauty done for her? Has she spent a life of usefulness, being admired, not only for the elegance of her person, but also for the loveliness of her mind and character? Alas, history tells a very different tale. Nursed in the lap of luxury and pride, she was early taught to consider herself entitled to praise and flattery. Her beauty was extolled, her wit and fascination of manners raised her many admirers. Above all, Julius Cæsar and Mark Antony were most conspicuous. These, after having led a life of guilt and crime beyond description, departed from this life to render an account to their Creator and Judge. The wretched Cleopatra, deserted by all who once flattered and praised her, is left a prisoner in the hands of Octavius, who only waits her recovery to health in order to conduct her to Rome to grace his triumph. But now her guilt and crimes haunt her; she has no joy in her beauty,- this is in part faded, and she is left a wretched prey to remorse. Behold her tearing her hair, and madly calling for some one to kill her, and thus terminate a life which has become an intolerable burden.

We will dwell no longer on this scene of horror, but just add that this desolatehearted creature died at last by her own hand; thus she completed her life of wickedness by ushering herself before the bar of God as a self-murderess!

Oh, Beauty, how few who possess thee have grace to keep themselves from thy snares; how few have humility to ask that grace of God!

We now bid farewell to royalty, and seek among the humbler ranks of life to find one who shall serve as an illustration to the

latter part of the passage before us. A third, and, if possible, a more painful, and yet, strange to say, a much more pleasing sight, arises before us; for though it is distressing to witness the sufferings of a fellow-creature, yet if she suffer in the cause of God, it is pleasant to trace the end, and by faith perceive the crown of glory that awaits her in heaven.

Gloomy Smithfield, that sphere of the martyr's sufferings and triumphs, presents itself to our view. The frowning stake and piled-up faggots tell us that a fearful deed will soon be perpetrated. Man is about to sacrifice his fellow-creatures simply for differing from himself in religious sentiments. Thousands of spectators crowd the spot, eager to view the shocking spectacle. Each countenance is impressed with the feelings which pervade the heart. In one group there is deadly hatred; in others the look of savage delight; while in some few may be traced deep sympathy for the sufferer, and pity for the savage tormentor.

A thrill now passes through the crowd,faces press eagerly forward to gaze upon the mournful procession as it approaches the spot. No sound is heard, but the voice of the hard-hearted judge, as he reads aloud the warrant for the dreadful procedure. He states that the name of the prisoner is Ann Askew; she has dared to pray to Jesus, to speak openly of his truth, to denounce "the mass" as a human invention, to renounce the Church of Rome as apostate, and to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ alone for salvation. All means have been tried to bring her back to her former faith. She has endured the rack, and braved the most fearful tortures, with christian heroism; and still she adheres to her religion. Her cruel tormentors have condemned her to be burned alive, for a punishment, and as a warning to others.

Fear not, blessed martyr! men may kill the body, but after that, what more can they do? The soul must be happy, and live for ever, out of the reach of cruelty, blest with the smile of God!

The reading finished, the victim is taken and unresistingly bound to the stake. The fire is applied, the smoke curls aloft, the flames gradually ascend. How does the sufferer bear this terrible death? A woman's weakness will surely now betray itself. No a holy calm pervades her mind, and lights up her face with almost angelic beauty. She has the peace of God; knows in whom she

has believed, and praises him that he gives her strength and fortitude to bear the dreadful agony, and to endure to the end. In the midst of prayer and praise her happy spirit wings its flight to rest. Now she is past all human suffering. The Lord whom she loved has taken her to himself.

Oh, blessed martyr, bright was thy life, and triumphant thy death; thou didst not enjoy the favour of man, which is so deceitful; though beauty crowned thy brow, to thee it was no deadly curse, for thou hadst the fear of God, and for this shalt thou be praised by thy fellow-christians on earth and this godly fear wrought in thee a meet

ness for the mansions of bliss.

"Beauty is vain, it lasts but for a while, Amidst the sunshine of the flatterer's smile; Favour, deceitful as the winds that sweep Along the surface of the watery deep; But she who fears the Lord shall ever be Firm as the rocks that rise above the sea: Her praise shall be the burden of our song, Her name shall ever hang upon our tongue; Lightnings may flash, and thunders rouud her roll, Darkness and death arise to affright her soul, These cannot hurt her, God will be her guide, To safely shield, when none can shield beside; To take, when nature's final throbbings cease, The unfettered spirit to the realms of peace."

THE AFFLICTED FAMILY.

A CURE SUGGESTED.

To the Editors of "The Church."

Dear Sirs,

In your April number I find a letter from one of your able correspondents respecting an "afflicted family," for whom he is desirous of obtaining some medicinal relief.

Although I believe I am related to "Luke, the beloved physician," yet I have no pretensions to the science of medicine; nevertheless, I feel disposed to offer a few remarks upon the subject.

1 shall not endeavour to trace the origin of this family, nor to find their whereabouts, as the condition in which we have them présented seems to be a dangerous one, and therefore calls loudly for a present and powerful antidote.

After a close examination of the symptoms of the first three patients, I am disposed to believe their disease to be the same, although the symptoms slightly differ. If I am not mistaken, their affliction is caused by a deeply-rooted spirit of slothful. ness, or, in other words, idleness. Sirs, my practice has not been very exten. sive in such complaints, still I have met with cases of the kind in some few of my journeyings, and I know of nothing more likely to restore the patients than a few dozens of pills such as the following:

Now,

"A man may go idle to hell, but he that would go to heaven must be busy."

"Such as stand idle, the enemy of souls will try to hire into his service, he puts them on the pilfering trade."

"Idleness is an inlet to much sin; the standing water gathers filth, and the sitting bird is the fowler's mark."

These are from the surgery of Messrs. Henry and Watson, and are, I think, very likely to touch the seat of the disease; but should these fail to reach the part affected, you may safely administer the following from the stores of Solomon, Paul, & Co.:

"Woe to them that are at ease in Zion." "Our soul is exceedingly filled with the scorning of those that are at ease, and with the contempt of the proud."

"Rise up, ye women, that are at ease; hear my voice, ye careless daughters, give heed unto my speech."

"And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together as the manner of some is."

"Be watchful, and strengthen the thing which remain that are ready to die."

If these few pills were taken in a draught of prayer to God for his blessing, I have but little doubt the effect would be found beneficial. The dose may be repeated as often as the symptoms appear, and may be increased or decreased to suit the various stages of the disease. Joseph Lancaster, the founder of the Lancasterian Schools, once asked, "Have all the children at all times something to do, and a motive for doing it?" Such an enquiry ought to be made by every one in the christian church. What am I doing for Christ, who has done so much for me? I believe, Sirs, that had there been as much apathy about Christ, as there is about many of those who bear his name, man would have been eternally lost.

"It is high time to awake out of sleep." The time has come when every one ought to be ready to push forward the truth as it is in Jesus, when every breath of prayer that can be sent up to the mercy-seat should be employed,-when every blow that can be brought to tell upon the head of the "Man of Sin" should be struck,-that our dear Redeemer may have universal dominion. May God infuse his Spirit into our hearts, that we may be made to glorify his name!

We come now to another of this "afflicted family," who, it appears, is troubled with the "King's evil of the true Alexandrian type." If I mistake not, this gentleman has but one eye open, with which he sees great defects in all around, but is unconscious of wrong at home. I think the main effort should be directed to open the other eye, that as he views the mote of his brother he may also see his own beam. Physicians differ in their opinions and treatment, therefore, I may not be right in my view of the patient; but it will be apparent to all that this man's system is too high; nothing,

therefore, can be effectually done until a lowering takes place. In order, then, to lower the carnal system, the sword of the Spirit must be applied until a stream of penitential grief runs freely from the heart. Then, and not till then,-not till the man is convinced that "pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall," -not till he feels sure that God beholds the proud afar off, but gives his grace to the humble, and that the man that exalteth himself shall be abased,-can we entertain any hope of his recovery. I may just say, that his present state indicates spiritual pride, which is the companion of spiritual poverty.

The other two patients require little notice. The former may be left to cook a dish or two for himself, which will doubtless cure him; and the latter may take a dose with the first three patients. Hoping they may soon recover,

I am, Sirs, yours very truly,
J. B.

Ragland, Monmouthshire.

THE DUTY OF CHRISTIANS IN RELATION TO WAR. A PASTORAL LETTER. By B. EVANS, Scarborough. Pp. 20. London: Houlston and Stoneman.

When we say that we cordially recommend this "Pastoral Letter" to the sheep of other folds than that over which its much esteemed author is the shepherd, it will be no more than would be expected by all our readers; this is not, however, the language of mere christian courtesy; the few christians who, like the author, would rather repress than stimulate the warlike zeal of the nation, need to be especially listened to at the present moment. At the very best, war should be to christians but a melancholy necessity, and though it is difficult to separate energy and enthusiasm, we should watch that the enthusiasm should be for the sacred object only, and not for the truly distressing means by which alone it can be attained. Mr. Evans will not, of course, expect us to agree with his "conviction that a christian should never fight," and that, if possible, he should always prevent the nation to which he belongs

from fighting. If he were to limit the proposition by adding, "for merely personal reasons," or "for the advancement of his master's kingdom," we might be reluctant to impugn it; but when a christian fights to protect another, it is difficult to see in this aught but "loving our brethren and laying down our lives for them." We have always felt that the duty of protecting the rights and lives of others, at all sacrifices, is one of the most difficult things for a man of absolute peace principles to deny. If it be right to allow ourselves to be shot, rather than shoot the murderer, which we by no means admit, we cannot bring ourselves to believe that it is the will of God we should see our wife or child shot, rather than kill the man who stretched out his murderous hand against them. We should extend the principle to any case in which we saw another's life in danger from the hand of violence, and, of course, to the duty of society to protect the rights and property of its subjects by force, and even, if necessary, by the infliction of death. From this stage there appears to us but one