but another to hate sin: the lost in hell are the subjects of the one, only true saints of the other.

Suffering should always be preferred before sinning.

It takes much grace and discipline to keep us in a truly teachable frame of soul.

If you can from your heart forgive another for Christ's sake, you have no reason to doubt that God has forgiven

you.

You may have many friends, but you have none so kind, so ready, so able to help you as the Lord Jesus.

Never expect any thing really good, but from the Lord; so will you not be disappointed.

HOW SELFISH IT IS!

I'VE a home and kind friends, and abundance to eat,

And clothing sufficient, so decent and neat, And books, that my mind may to knowledge aspire,

And all that a child can in reason desire; But to care for my comfort, and only for this,

And forget my poor neighbours-how self

ish it is!

I have got a plum-cake, and the whole is

my own,

And no one will know if I eat it alone ; But what if the cake be so sweet and so

nice,

I dare say poor John would be glad of a slice; My treat he shall share, a large slice shall be his,

For to eat all one's-self-oh, how selfish it is!

My aunt kindly gave me a shilling last night; For she knew that I wanted to buy a new kite;

But a poor aged widow lives over the way, And she says she has not had a morsel today.

Here, dry up your tears, and buy something with this,

For to spend all on playthings-how selfish it is!

As Christ has commanded, I'll constantly try My neighbours to love, and myself to deny : From my own little pleasures a trifle I'll

spare,

To gladden their hearts, and to lighten their

care;

That, whate'er my friends find in my conduct amiss,

They never may say-oh, how selfish it is!

S. W. P.

THE OLD DUTCH CLOCK.

A PLEASANT time is harvest, and pleasant it is to rise with the sun, and walk towards the corn-field, to watch the reapers, already busy with their sickles amongst the waving, bending grain. The freshness of the morning air, the lark's sweet song, and the soft warmth of the early sunbeams, all add to our enjoyment; and at such an hour the thankful heart delights to give praise to the bountiful Creator, who causes the earth to No. 56. AUG. 1842. I

bring forth her increase, and blesses us with his gifts in rich abundance.

"How pleasant is harvest-time!" said William Brooks to himself, as he ran along Cherry Orchard Lane; and, when he leaped over the stile into Merton's Field, he exclaimed again, "How pleasant is harvesttime!" The reapers were at work, and though they were at the other end of the field, William could hear their merry voices, and he quickly made his way through the narrow path by the hedge-side, impatient to be among them. But do not suppose that William was going to be only a looker-on. If this had been the case, he would not have held his head so high, nor need he to have cared so much about reaching Merton's Field by seven o'clock. He had been hired by Farmer Goodwin for a month. He was first to help to bind the sheaves; and his mother's cousin, John Thomson, had promised to lend him a sickle, that he might learn a little of reaping. If he worked well, his wages were to be sixpence a day; and sixpence a day for a whole month, allowing of course for Sundays, would count up to twelve shillings-a sum at least six times more than William had ever possessed in his life.

And how was the money to be spent? After much debating with himself, William had settled this question in his own mind;

but he kept it a great secret, and neither his father, nor his sister Mary, nor even his mother, whom he loved so dearly, could guess what it was that he meant to buy. It was not a book—that he had told them; though he had often longed for the History of Robinson Crusoe, which he once saw in a bookseller's shop. Nor was it any article of clothing, though his Sunday shoes were wearing out, and his best coat wanted mending. He could wait a little longer for Robinson Crusoe, he said; and the shoes could be new-soled, and the tailor could put a neat patch on his coat sleeve. The twelve shillings would be his first wages, and he was resolved to buy something which was more wanted than anything that had been guessed: something that would last a great while longer, and neither wear out nor lose its value. Father, mother, and Mary all puzzled themselves in vain; but they put great trust in William's prudence, and it had been promised that he should spend the money as he pleased; so they were obliged to wait as patiently as they could.

William joined the reapers with a willing heart; he was grateful to those who gave him a word of advice, and cheerfully tried to do his best. The farmer encouraged him by saying he looked like a handy lad; and though, as the sun rose higher, and the cool breeze died away, he began to feel heated