servant, and he cannot get a better situation; or he is in business, and he cannot succeed as he would. Something is always occurring to keep him down.

The crook of a third arises from the evil tempers or the bad conduct of others. His master is hard and unreasonable; his fellow-workmen are quarrelsome; or, more grievous still, he has a source of perpetual disquietude at home.

"If it were not for just this one thing," it has been said many a time," how happy I should be."

Each is disposed to think his own crook the worst, and to say, "Surely nobody is so hardly dealt with as I am." As we look at some people, everything about them seems so pleasant and smooth, that we think they have nothing to trouble them. A great mistake. Those people who live in such beautiful mansions and seem as though they had everything that heart could wish, have not, perhaps, the same troubles to contend with as those who are below them; but very likely if you knew all about them, you would see little to envy.

It is not of mere chance that your lot is crooked; God made it so. "Consider the work of God; for who can make that straight which he hath made crooked?"

Your health is impaired. Perhaps you inherited a feeble constitution from your parents, or you can trace the malady under which you labour to its source in some great hardship, or some long-continued toil. But the hand of God is in it. "To God the Lord belong the issues from death." He has "weakened your strength in the way."

God is not the author of the evil tempers and the misconduct of others; but they certainly would not have been suffered to trouble you as they do, without his permission. Satan, you remember, could afflict Job as he did, only as God permitted him.

Do you ask,

Why then does God deal thus with me? He might have made my lot all pleasant-given me no trouble; but instead, all comfort and peace. right in him to treat me thus ?"

Is it kind or

But "should it be according to thy mind?" You are a creature; and have you any right to say in what position your Creator should have placed you? A child! Is it for you to say what discipline your Father should exercise? a sinner; and is it for you to say that this or that punishment should have been withheld? Ought you not rather

66

to say, Thy will be done?" " Surely I have behaved and quieted myself as a weaned child?"

God put that crook in your lot for your real benefit-to keep you humble; to teach you that there was something better to be sought for than present good; to lead you nearer to himself. There was a time when all was comparatively happy. You had not everything you wished, but there was nothing to disturb you very greatly. Your rest was smooth and warm and soft, and you were disposed to say, "This is enough; I need no more." So God stirred up your nest and put a sharp and crooked thorn into it Trial came, and it called forth faith and hope and submission, and sent you to your knees in prayer. It was continued; and it gave occasion for the development of those graces which are now strong and healthy. And in the crook which now tries you, be assured that your loving Father is seeking your best welfare.

See in it the hand of God. Think, that it is God who is supreme, God who loves you, God who is seeking to make you more like himself, who sends your crook. You will be kept from murmuring only as you do this. Try to find out why he has sent it.

be"

There is a needs

for every trial. Ask what can be the purpose of

yours-what sin needs to be forsaken, what grace needs to be perfected. Then pray-pray for faith, and submission, and unwavering patience; pray too for strength and wisdom that you may depart from every sin and grow in every grace.

It

And look forward with hope. He may remove the crook even whilst you continue on earth. But if not, in that world to which you are going, if you truly believe in Jesus, you will be freed from all care and trouble for ever. will not be amongst the least of the occasions you will find for gratitude there, that he sent you those light afflictions, which will then have wrought out for you "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."

THE COLPORTEUR'S STORY.

SOME time ago, when spending a few days at Boulogne, I amused myself by frequent visits to that portion of it which consists of the dwellings of the fishing people (Les) matelots, as they are called). These are on the coast, built in alleys which stretch from the top to the bottom of the

steep cliffs; the houses on either side being one above another, are reached by flights of broad stone stairs, each landing place having its own sea view. On the top of the cliffs is a large crucifix, where these poor people pray to the Virgin for preservation during their fishing excursions, and return thanks when they come back in safety. On a projection of rock I sat one evening watching some women, who formed a picturesque addition to the landscape in their peculiar costume- -a short scarlet skirt, and dark blue jacket, with a neatly plaited cap. But the sight awakened sad reflections; as I saw them kneel before the cross, imploring the protection of the Virgin for their husbands and brothers who were encountering the perils of the ocean; and forgetting, or rather ignorant of Him who has "made the seas and all that are therein," who "holds the winds in his fist, and the waters in the hollow of his hand."

I had not been long engaged thus, when a voice near me saying in French, “A melancholy sight, sir," made me turn my head; and I perceived, for the first time, a respectable man standing at my side. His eyes were fixed upon the worshippers before us, and the expression of his countenance showed that he felt it to be what he said-a melancholy sight. Having responded to the remark, we were soon engaged in conversation. He was, I found, a colporteur, employed by the Continental Society in the distribution of Bibles; and a man, not only able to sell the book, but to answer questions which he might be asked about it. He told me several very interesting anecdotes connected with his avocation; one of which I am about to repeat, as peculiarly illustrating the goodness and mercy of that God who can bring good out of evil, and make even the wrath of man to praise him.

My new acquaintance was at Boulogne, employed in the sale of Bibles, while the French army were assembled there previous to their embarkation for the Crimea. It was a stirring scene- the town, the suburbs, the steep cliffs, and sea-beaten shore upon which we were now gazing, crowded with the brave and gay, eager to embark in that perilous enterprise from which so many were never to return. He who had the privilege of thus assisting in the distribution of the word of God among our brave allies, had afterwards the pleasure of hearing that many of them carried with them that blessed volume; and that often in the knapsack of the dead soldier was found that which could be his

66

friend in the camp, in the battle, and upon the field of death. In walking about Boulogne, the colporteur met one day a little knot of soldiers, to whom he began speaking of the Scriptures. One of them said in a tone of much earnestness, "Well! I would give the world to have that book." "Here it is; you can have it for the trifling sum of two francs," replied the colporteur. 'Oh," said he, "if you were to offer it to me for two sous I should not be able to purchase it." The rule laid down by the Society is not to give Bibles without being paid for them; it being supposed that the people will set a higher value on what they have been at some pains to procure. The colporteur said to himself, "Here is a poor young man who wishes to have God's word; it is contrary to my instructions to give it to him for nothing, but he is too poor to buy it, and is going off to the Crimea from whence he may never I will venture, for once, to transgress the rules. I will take the responsibility on myself." And handing a Bible to the soldier, added, "Here, friend; it is the word of life; I will make you a present of it."

return.

Our readers may have some idea of what must have been the kind colporteur's disappointment, surprise, and sorrow, when the young man burst out laughing as he received the precious book, and replied, "Do you think that I care for you or your book? No, indeed; but I made a bet with one of my comrades here that I would get a |Bible for nothing, and now I have won the bet." "Well, then, give me back the book," said the colporteur. “No, indeed," he replied, "I will find some use for it;" and tearing out the title page, added, "It will be very convenient to have it to light my pipe." My new acquaintance, the colporteur, told me that he had seldom felt so distressed at anything: "My first impulse," he continued, "was to go at once to my employer, and confess how wrong I had been in transgressing the directions he had given me; and then consult him as to whether it would be possible to let this unhappy young man know the folly, and the fearful danger of thus despising the word of the great God-the message of mercy and love, sent to show sinners how they may be saved. This, however, could not be accomplished: his employer was unexpectedly obliged to quit Boulogne and embark that evening; taking with him the colporteur to carry on his benevolent mission of disseminating the Scriptures in another place. Standing together on the

66

deck, as the vessel weighed anchor, and slowly retreated from the shore, my friend related his adventure with the soldier, acknowledging and regretting his departure from the rules prescribed. You were certainly wrong in this matter," said the employer, who had listened with much interest," but that cannot now be helped; our God is long-suffering and of great mercy. We know that he can

bring good out of evil. Let us ask him to do so on the present occasion, and humbly beseech him that this unfortunate young man may, ere long, find everlasting life through a crucified Redeemer in that blessed book which he now despises; and learn to esteem it, as it truly is, more precious than gold or silver." They left the busy, bustling scene on deck, and kneeling down together in the quiet cabin, prayed that God would have mercy, and pour down Divine grace on the soldier. How cheering is our Lord's assurance, "If two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven."* No doubt the remembrance of it strengthened the faith of these believers on the occasion we are now reciting; and we have pleasure in recording, for the encouragement of those who pray, how graciously the Hearer of prayer was pleased to answer the petition.

About eighteen months after these events the same colporteur revisited Boulogne, where I met him and learned the particulars from him. Some days subsequent to his arrival he was seated on the spot where we then were, in sad contemplation of a scene such as we now witnessed-the wives and daughters of the fishermen making obeisance to the crucifix, as they ascended or descended the cliff on which it stood. He observed among them an elderly female, and a young girl on whose arm she leaned, who, unlike all the others, passed the idol without showing any inclination to bow down before it. Surprised at this, he followed them down two or three flights of the stone steps that lead to the dwelling of les matelots; and when they entered what seemed to be their home, he did the same, asking permission to rest himself for a while. This being accorded, he said, "I was glad to perceive, my good woman, that neither you nor this young person bowed or knelt before the image. Will you be so kind as to tell me what has made you to differ from your neighbours in this particular?” The

66

* Matt. xxviii. 19.