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lighting up the calm eye with a gleam of pleasure. The key turns in the lock, the bolt flies back, and the blind child enters. She can see nothing; all is dark to her within the narrow cell; but she knows very well where her father's arms are open, waiting to receive her. Her eyes are sightless, but the light of love shines in her soul, and irradiates her patient, thoughtful countenance, as she hastens with rapid step to her father's embrace. He presses her gently to his manly breast, and kissing her soft cheek, murmurs, "My sweet heart." How tender and pure must have been the companionship of these two. How pleasantly pass the hours as they talk to each other, like children, for Bunyan in his ripest years retained the beautiful simplicity of childhood. Doubtless he taught this dear one of the love of Christ, and knelt often upon the cold stone floor of his prison-house, to pray with and for her. How lonely and anxious must have been the days when she came not. Then we can imagine he would often rise from his work, and gazing through the narrow window, beneath which flowed the waters of the Ouse, look longingly in the direction of that humble cottage where dwelt those dearest to his heart. Then striving to forget his care, we see him open his wellworn Bible, and draw from thence sweet comfort and strength still to endure. Those prison hours were on the whole very pleasant ones, as Bunyan himself tells us; and next to those spiritual joys which filled his soul, he was indebted for this to the constant occupation of body and mind to which he accustomed himself. He must have been very busy, as the work he accomplished during those twelve years of imprisonment proves. Labouring at his tagged laces all day, and writing far into the night, tracing the passage of his pilgrim through the lights and shadows-the joys and sorrows of his christian course. Blessed labours! wherein was sown seed which shall bear fruit till time shall end, to the good of man and glory of God. Would that the Spirit that prompted and inspired those labours might rest with power upon every successive generation of pilgrims to Zion, warring through them against "the world, the flesh, and the devil," and finally, through the riches of grace, triumphing over every foe.

THE MAN THAT SLEEPS IN
CHAPEL.

A minister of the "Kirk" in good old Scotland once discovered his wife fallen asleep in the midst of his homily on the Sabbath. So, pausing in the steady and, possibly, somewhat monotonous flow of his oratory, he broke forth with this personal address, sharp and clear, but very delibe

rate

"Susan !"

Susan opened her eyes and ears in a twinkling, as did all other dreamers in the house, whether asleep or awake.

"Susan, I dinna marry ye for your wealth, sin' ye hae'd none! And I dinna marry ye for your beauty, that the hail congregation can see! And if ye hae no grace, I have made but a sair bargain !" Susan's slumbers were effectually broke up for that day.

One feels sometimes inclined to send sharp words or Psalm books, or some other persuasive missiles, at the head of a chapel sleeper, but is deterred by various considerations.

We used to think when we began to preach, that we would defy anybody to go to sleep quietly under our pulpit addresses, and made now and then some very doughty resolves "to keep folks awake if we had to thunder and lighten for it." But we have long since given that up. People may become accustomed to thunder and lightning, as the Israelites did, lapsing into idolatry at the base of Sinai when it rocked under the foot of God.

There are different kinds of sleepers in "the great congregation." There is one man who settles himself deliberately to the business, "like a day's work"--putting himself, with malice aforethought, into posture, his head on its wonted support, his shoulders gently inclined to the right or the left, and "the promises" under his elbow. This is a hardened case, given over, joined to his idol, past cure.

There is another man with whom we always have a deep sympathy. He leads amid his secular business an active life-a life of incessant locomotion. He can't sit down anywhere without feeling the reaction. He comes into chapel with a desire to render wakeful worship-to give his most earnest attention to the preached truth. But when the sermon is fairly under way, and labours a little at the foundations of its argument, his drowsiness

comes upon him like a strong man armed. He struggles against it with his best manhood. He rubs his eyes. He "blows" his nose. He straightens up desperately. But his enemy is too strong for him. We cannot but be interested in his heroic though fruitless efforts. We are half moved to call out-"My dear fellow, it's of no use, you may as well give up to it for a little-you have our full and free permission to nap it for eight minutes."

Well, that is about all he wants. He rbuses again at the expiration of that time -looking so refreshed that we are really glad for him; and through the remainder of the discourse, nobody listens better.

And here and there we recognise one overcome with the soft potency, whom it is rare to see so subdued. And we charitably understand that he lay awake with the toothache the night before, or watched by the couch of a restless child, or sat by the pillow of a sick friend. He has our consent to be dull, for a space, in his comfortable pew.

It is undeniably true, though, that whatever the type of sleeping, the preacher winces a little under its rebuke. Is he somewhat dull himself? Has he failed to set forth the truth, whose ideal so moved him when he began to write, to the clear discernment and the quickened sensibilities of his hearers? By any personal default, has he robbed his message of its interest and power? Must that occasion go for nothing or worse, to any for whom he has thought and toiled? Are they getting

tired of his voice and his method? Is he responsible for that lost opportunity?

The queries will make him a little heavy-spirited, perhaps; perhaps, too, they ought to affect him so.

A clergyman whom we know, once stopped in his discourse as he found his audience sinking from his grasp into too silent a hush, and frankly said aloud-" My dear hearers, I am afraid I do not interest you to-day." And another resorted to another expedient. About midway in his discourse he stopped suddenly, and gave out a couple of stanzas to be sung by the choir, and then resumed and concluded before a wide-awake audience.

It is difficult to know how to contend against this intruder in the sanctuary. Something may be done by care as to the temperature of the house. Something by a skilful adjustment of the light and shade.

Something by variety of tone in the elocution of the preacher. Something by caution as to the length of the discourse, -by directness of address,-by a happy use of illustrations in what are likely to be the heavier parts of the discourse -by a soul-felt earnestneas in every part, -by the solemn presence of the Spirit, fervently invoked.

Something, too, the people might do. By care as to the exhausting labours of the day previous,-the hour of retiring on Saturday night,--the quality and quantity of the Sabbath dinner,-by cherishing a sense of common courtesy and good breeding, by a diligently-sought spiritual frame of mind, by an awe-breathing consciousness of that Presence into which they have adventured, by a remembrance of the dread day of final account!

There is no infallible specific against dullness, for preacher or people, but a heart earnest and intent upon the business that has gathered them in the sacred convocation, and so garrisoned by the presence and power of the Holy Ghost against every influence hostile to the highest spiritual improvement of the place and the hour!

LITTLE IDA'S CONSOLATION.

Ida was a gentle, quiet child of four years. No shadow had passed over the bright horizon which surrounded her, and she knew not that this is a world of sorrow. Her mother's smile was her chief joy; and so confidingly did she look to that mother as the source of every comfort and pleasure, and the soother of every transient grief, that the sweet little one could have formed no idea of existence, if "mother" was gone, for ever gone. Alas, that the most bitter grief so often mingles in the cup of innocent, unsuspecting childhood! A dense and heavy cloud settled all around the pathway of little Ida. It came not all at once; she saw it creeping on in those days when "mother" first became too sick to sit up the whole day, and she missed her all the long hours when she was lying down,when her cough became so violent that she could not speak to answer her questions,when she looked pale and thin, and smiled but faintly. The poor child observed these changes with a trembling dread, yet she knew not what she feared. But changes still sadder followed rapidly on.

The

sitting-room where "mother's" chair stood by the fire-oh, it was vacant! that voice which was the life of her being was heard there no more. The cloud gathered closer round. "Mother" was seen but once in the long, long day, and then in a darkened room, bolstered up in bed, toiling for breath, and, oh, how changed! It was her "dear mother;" but Ida shuddered when she kissed her. Yet one more change, and the little sufferer was enveloped in thick dark"Mother's" room was deserted and cold; no watchers were around her bed, no medicines beside it. That dear form lay stiff and motionless, the eyes sunken, the lips sealed. Ida kissed the marble cheek, and started back with horror. Her mind formed its first conception of the King of Terrors at that moment, and, uttering the most distressing cries of grief and alarm, she fled from the room.

ness.

A few hours after this I saw Ida. She was then composed; and as I wished the dear child to partake, as far as her infant capacity would allow, of the consolations we enjoyed in the death of her pious mother, and to feel that even death and the grave are conquered foes through Him who is the resurrection and the life, I spoke to her tenderly of her mother in heaven, enjoying the society of the good, and with Jesus, whom she loved better than any earthly friend. But as soon as I mentioned her mother, she burst into a most violent

paroxysm of weeping and sobbing-so violent that it was really alarming. I tried to comfort her, but she seemed inconsolable, and I feared she did not know what I said, and that, instead of doing good, I had done an injury; but it afterwards appeared that it was not so. I observed her daily, and knew the habits of her mind; they were unusually reflective for a child of her years. I did not venture to name her mother again for some weeks; but finally, while conversing about heaven at one time, I said, "Ida, where is your mother?" A shadow came over her expressive countenance; violent emotions seemed struggling within that infant breast; I trembled with alarm; when suddenly the most delightful change passed over her face, like a wave of mingled hope and joy: she lifted her large, full eyes to mine, and with a quiet, heavenly smile, said with imperfect articulation," Done up to see Zesus." Her affectionate heart was comforted.

And had she not found the true source of comfort? Had not her infant mind taken hold on that which to the redeemed sinner must constitute the very acme of heavenly enjoyment? Many, many times since, when beloved friends have been removed from earth, have I taken to my own heart the consolation of little Ida-indelibly impressed on my memory by her expressive countenance and sweet childish utterance -they have gone up to see Jesus!

LIFE

OF

Notices of Books.

LETTERS
AND
CHRISTOPHER
ANDERSON. By his Nephew, HUGH
ANDERSON. London: Hamilton, Adams,
& Co.

Not a few great and good men have recently exchanged pulpits on earth for thrones in heaven. Among these we find the name of CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON-a name embalmed amid the grateful recollections of many a Scottish heart, and "familiar as a household word" even in numerous English circles. Our estimate of the minister of Charlotte Chapel, Edinburgh, was always high, but our admiration and love have been heightened by the perusal of this volume. Its selection of materials is judicious, its arrangement happy, and its quiet literary beauty very

attractive. The reader glides from one scene of interest to another in Mr. Anderson's life with increasing pleasure, and his sympathy is sustained to its close. We have no laboured panegyric on the departed. These pages are only a medium through which he "being dead yet speaketh." They place us in his presence whose gentlemanly bearing, ardent piety, affectionate spirit, fascinating conversation, and telling discourses,have frequently instructed. and delighted us. He was emphatically a LABOURER, the fathers and founders of the Baptist Mission, the advocates of education and christianity in the Highlands of Scotland, the friends of the best interests of "the Emerald Isle," all bearing witness. Here letters from the pens of Fuller,

In

Ryland, Sutcliff, Sir John Sinclair, Charlotte Elizabeth, and other distinguished personages, appear for the first time, and are very interesting as proofs of the various labours of love in which Mr. Anderson engaged. The record, too, of his physical and literary toils, in preparing for publication his elaborate and standard work, "The Annals of the English Bible," furnishes a treat to every lover of "the Book Divine." In the pulpit Mr. Anderson pre-eminently shone, and "many rejoiced in his light." his best days, we find that "during the sittings of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and of the Synod of what is now called the United Presbyterian Church, many of the members of those bodies attended on the Lord's-day evenings. Several of the Episcopalian clergymen, resident in the city, were frequent hearers, while Evangelical clergymen, from England or Ireland, visiting Edinburgh, were almost sure to be found, at least once, in Charlotte Chapel." And how interesting is the fact, that "several clergymen, both of the English and Scotch Establishments, and some now ministers in other communions, have owned Mr. Anderson as the instrument, in the hands of God, of first leading them to the truth!"

We must thank the author for the manner in which he has discharged his duty in this worthy labour of love. His relationship as a nephew does not interfere with his fidelity as a biographer. The work will have an extensive circulation, and this it deserves.

THE CHARACTERISTIC DIFFERENCES OF THE FOUR GOSPELS. By Andrew Jukes. London: James Nisbit & Co.

The cardinal idea of this little book, that "the Gospels are four views of Christ," is one which has been recognized by most attentive students of them. It has been carried further, indeed, and a German divine, and one not a sceptic either, will speak as a matter of course of the Christ of Paul, and the Christ of Peter or James, as well as the Christ of John or of Matthew. It cannot be doubted that this view is essentially correct, and that each of the inspired writers presents our Lord and his religion to us in a somewhat different light. Whatever the nature of inspiration, it in no way interfered with the natural faculties of the authors of the New Testament;

It

it left to each his natural turn of mind as modified by his education and circumstances, and even his tastes and predilections seem to have been untouched. pervaded them all with the supernaturally holy spirit of their Master, and according to his promise, guided them intellectually into all truth.

The blessing which this arrangement of infinite wisdom has been to believers is incalculable. The New Testament writers were men comprising all the leading varieties of the human mind, and hence every man has found the One Lord presented to him by some inspired writer of kindred mind with himself. Nor is it any failing, as some have erroneously described it, that some one or two books of the sacred Scriptures should be our special favourites. Our heavenly Father intended it should be so. Each of the earthen vessels is filled with heavenly treasure, and so that we do but find the treasure at all, we are truly rich. The only thing desirable to guard against in relation to this subject, is one-sided interpretation. The views of all the writers themselves are in perfect harmony, though all of them diverse.

Mr. Jukes thus classifies the views of our Lórd presented in the four gospels :-" St. Matthew, or the Son of Abraham; St. Mark, or the Servant of God; St. Luke, or the Son of Adam; St. John, or the Son of God." Matthew and Luke have from primitive times been regarded as writing for the Jews and Gentiles respectively. Mark has been chiefly noted for his graphic. fulness of details of fact; and regarded as Peter's attendant and gospel writer, as Luke was Paul's. John's character has always been the same; he is "The Divine;" the contemplative theologian; speaking classically, he is the Plato to the three preceding Xenophons.

The devout reader wiil find much to interest him in many of Mr. Jukes's remarks. Two things Mr. Jukes will hardly expect us to approve, or at least to concur with,his fancies (as we must regard them) about the cherubim and living creatures in the Revelation; and, generally, his ingenuities in turning all kinds of Old Testament facts into types. And, secondly, his continual appeal to some deeper mystic perception of divine things enjoyed by himself and a favoured few. We never saw this done, indeed, with more evident humility and goodfeeling towards fellow-christians" without."

Still the habit is a pernicious one. It tends to excite undesirable feelings in many honest and intelligent readers, and it is very likely, if cherished, to injure the person who indulges it. If an apostle tells us we can only digest milk as yet, we humbly believe him ; but it is rather too much for the sincerest uninspired brother to use similar language. A notice of the book in the last Westminster Review (though a kind one), will give Mr. Jukes an idea of its mischievous effect in other quarters. Much of the last chapter, "The Common Testimony," is calculated to be very profitable. With slight alterations, it would make a most useful"Tract for the Times," for the professing world.

THE FOUNTAIN OF LIVING WATERS, ILLUSTRATED BY FACTS IN THE LIFE OF A LAYMAN. Pp. 151. London: Religious Tract Society.

A very interesting reprint, apparently from an American work. The author "had long been familiar with The Anxious Enquirer,' The Path of Peace,' and other works of that kind-works which have been instrumental in leading multitudes to the feet of the Saviour: but it seemed to him there was yet wanting something which, while it pointed to the path of life, might, by the manner in which the truth was presented, attract the young and thoughtless, and lead them to stop and consider." We think the work well adapted to this important object; and should hope much from its being put into the hands of the young and thoughtful. It would be sure to be read for its intrinsic interest.

SACRED SYMBOLOGY, &c. By J. MILLS. London: R. Theobold.

We regard this volume as a valuable contribution to Biblical Science. The subject

on which it treats is one of great interest, but, confessedly, of no small difficulty. Ignorance of sound principles of interpretation of the symbolic language of Scripture has produced many errors in otherwise valuable writers, and given birth to many wild and untenable theories of prophetic truth. Mr. Mills has brought to his task a cultivated mind, a calm and matured judgment; and the result is, a volume which will supply every intelligent student with the most valuable hints for his investigation of these important portions of the Divine Word. We heartily commend it to the notice of our readers.

THE LAMP OF LOVE, FOR 1853. Edited by the REV. C. H. BATEMAN. London: Ward and Co.

One of the most charming periodicals for young folks that has ever met our eye. Full of lessons of love and goodness too. Mr. Bateman was already well known as a friend of the young: we are sure this little work will make him an universal favourite. THE HEAVENLY GOLD REGIONS: A SERMON. By the REV. EDWARD WHITE. London: J. Paul.

A thoughtful and impressive discoursewith an originality that would be sure to interest both hearers and readers-on Rev. xxi. 21, "The street of the city was pure gold."

THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD: A SERMON AT THE INTERMENT OF MRS. CANTLOW. By J. RICHARDSON.

Plain, simple, and scriptural. The great doctrine on which it treats is placed in a clear light, and its consolatory influences are unfolded. It reflects great credit upon the author, and will be read with pleasure by friends of the estimable person whose removal to her rest it commemorates.

A Page for the Young.

ADALINE GREEN, THE PRAYING
GIRL.

CHAPTER II.

1 suppose my young readers have come to the conclusion, from my last chapter, that Joseph was a very disagreeable boy. They are mistaken. No little boy could smile more pleasantly than he could, and

every one thought him very interesting; for Joseph was beautiful, he had large deep looking eyes, a high white forehead, with clustering curls and very soft pretty features. "Whose child is that?" people would ask as they met him in the street. When visitors came to the house they took great notice of the smiling boy, and thought

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