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did not know his village he lived.

something quite new to him, and he was at a loss to understand its meaning. He tried to get rid of the impression, but all in vain, and at length he concluded that he must do something, or there would be no rest for him that night. Forthwith he called his servant-man, and directed him to fill a large basket with provisions, and take it to the man of whom he had been thinking, with the message that he was to come and see him in the morning, and he would, try and find him work. Here however was a difficulty: the squire name, nor was he sure in what part of the The servant was far from pleased that he had to turn out so late, nevertheless he obeyed orders. On reaching the village, he was wondering what to do for the best, when he saw a light in a cottage-window, and at once went to the door to make inquiry. The door was opened by a middle-aged man, who without expressing sur prise at this late visit, looked into the servant's face, and at the basket, and exclaimed, "Thank God: my prayer is answered!" The servant discovered that he had come to the right house, and that the man whom his master wished to relieve stood before him. When the basket was emptied, and the cottager saw the good things which had been sent for him, and when he heard that he was to go up to the hall the next morning for work, he was almost overpowered, and it was with difficulty that he found words in which to express his gratitude to God and the squire. The servant, fully satisfied with the result of his journey, returned home, told his master what he had seen and heard, and ventured to add, "I like that sort of work." The squire was delighted with the account; his heart was affected, and for the first time in his life he felt and acknowledged that there was a pleasure in trying to make other people happy. The following day he found employment for the pious cottager, who saw in his new situation and altered circumstances, as he had often seen before, the value of prayer.

Some persons may smile at the simplicity of those who call upon the name of God, and invoke His aid; they may

bring forward arguments to show that it is a superstitious practice, but they are not likely to convince praying people, either by their logic or their lives, that the doctrine which they teach is sound. Apart from all acquaintance with the religious opinions and habits of mankind, there is something within the human breast which not only justifies prayer, but also prompts us to pray, and especially in seasons of trial. With all true Christians prayer is a spiritual necessity: it is their "vital breath," their "native air;" they cannot live without it; and having proved its worth, they are not disposed to try. Day by day, in prosperity and in adversity, they make their requests known unto God, and He supplies all their need "according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus."

Let those who do pray, pray more earnestly, and with simpler faith, and thus reap richer harvests of blessing than any which they have gathered in the past. Let those who do not pray, begin at once, lest they forfeit all the wealth which Jesus bought for them with His own most precious blood, and sacrifice those advantages for the body and the soul which are bestowed in answer to prayer.

"More things are wrought by prayer

Than this world dreams of; wherefore let thy voice

Rise like a fountain for me night and day.

For what are men better than sheep or goats,

That nourish a blind life within the brain,

If, knowing God, they lift not those hands of prayer,
Both for themselves and those who call them friends?
For so the whole round earth is everyway

Bound by gold chains about the feet of God."


CLIMBED the mighty Ben by night
To see the sun's first ray,

And stood upon the highest peak
Before the break of day.

Long had the pathway been and steep,
By which I upwards passed;
O'er many a rocky ridge I'd climbed
To gain the top at last.

I leaned against the stony cairn,
I eastward turned my eyes,
And waited long that I might see

The morning sun arise.

Alas! the clouds were dark o'erhead,
The mists hung thick and low;
They hid from view the heaven above,
They hid the vale below.

The sunrise hour had passed, I knew

That day had dawned on high; ·

Yet from my post upon the hill
No sun could I descry.

Then turned I from the lofty cairn,
That stood so lone and gray,
And down the steep, a baffled man,
I took my homeward way.

I reached the margin of the mist,
And breathed a softer air;

I saw my cottage in the vale,
The sun was shining there.

His slanting rays shot through the clouds,
Beneath the veil of mist;

They fell upon my cottage roof,

My cottage windows kissed.

Yet while the gladdening rays of light

Were shining thus below,

The mists upon the mighty Ben

Still hung as dark and low.

Ah! thus 'tis oft to those who climb
Ambition's lofty height-

No sun see they, while far beneath
His rays are shining bright.

They seek the light of joy and peace
In earthly gold and gain,

Yet not a ray breaks on their brow-
Their quest is all in vain.

But down where in the lowly vale
The humble poor abide,

There dwells a light that never dawns
Upon the sons of pride.

The light of God's own countenance,
That shineth from afar

Upon the hearts and on the homes
Of those that lowly are.

No more I climb the lofty Ben
When mists hang dark and gray;
No more I leave the lowly vale
To watch the dawn of day.

I see full from my cottage door
The morning sun arise;
I see the glory of his light
O'erflooding all the skies.

And thus in humbleness of mind

My days and hours are spent;

A lowly lot is mine on earth,
But now I am content.

For this I know, the cold gray mists.

Are on the lofty hill,

While round me here, with radiance bright,

God's sun is shining still.

Old Andrew's Proverbs.




NE morning, as I neared Old Andrew's stall, I noticed that, instead of the customary proverb upon the black-board, there was a large rough drawing of two houses and two women. The one woman was tearing off the roof of her house, and

throwing down the slates and beams to the ground; while the other, with a mason's trowel in her hand, and a heap of stones beside her, appeared to be engaged in building an addition to her dwelling. As for Old Andrew himself, he seemed to be more than usually busy mending a pair of shoes. And though we waited till the school bell was almost done ringing, and gave him several hints that we would like to know what the picture meant, he vouchsafed us no explanation.

At recess time most of us ran over to his stall. Old Andrew was busy as ever, but we found that he had added a title to his picture. Underneath it, in large plain letters,

we could read,

"Women in the Building Trade."

As was to be expected, there were some women of the lazy, slatternly sort lingering near, attracted by the picture, and they drew still nearer as we approached, evidently in the hope that some explanation of the picture would be given to us. In this they were not disappointed. One of our oldest boys, who had not been there in the morning, said, when he came in sight of the picture, "Why, uncle Andrew, what does this mean ?"

Uncle Andrew upon this raised his head from his work, took off his spectacles, and said: "It means a proverb, and I want you to find out what the proverb is. Look at the

picture. What is that woman doing?"

"She seems," said Jack Lane, the big boy, "to be

building up the wall of her house.

"And that other one?" inquired Old Andrew.

"She seems to be pulling down her house."

"Just so," said Andrew; "and what sort of a woman do you conclude that she is, when you see her doing that ?" "A foolish woman," said Lane.

"And the other, who is building an addition to her house?"

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