men, whereby even he might be saved. And so prayer became precious, and the Scriptures a living word; and the message of mercy exceeding sweet to him.

He did not die yet: he partially recovered, to the wonder of all, and returned, much weakened and broken down, to his home among the hills. What a return was this!— he had gone out a rebel, he returned a reconciled child. He left it in the service of Satan, the world, and the flesh; he returned willing to bear the cross of his many pains and infirmities, for the sake of Christ, who had borne the heavier one in his stead. Everything looked different now; other books and other company suited his changed mind. One great help was a little book sent him by a humble Christian friend. In this he used to read and learn; and when death was near he sent a message to the giver, to say how much good it had done him, and how he loved to pray for her in return.

There was no certain sound of the gospel in those lovely regions; but again a long-closed well was unsealed to him. The playmate of childhood was again at his side, not (as he could not help thinking she might have been) as the wife beloved, but as the minister of soul refreshment. It was she who used to read the Bible to him, who prayed with him, who helped his poor mother to smooth his pillow, and who, at last, after no long time, followed him to "the churchyard among the mountains," a mourner, yet not as one without hope in the Lord.

So ended the short, wasted life of that fine young man. He might have been a happy and an honoured cottager at home; have seen his sons and his sons' sons cultivating the soil, where his father has now no child. He might have enjoyed a lot of lowly and sacred blessing, but he threw it all away. He chose the broad road, and it led into the snare; he chose the wrong master at the first, and that hard master left him early to his fate. "The wages of sin is death." So far all is darkness; but the mercy of God prevailed: "Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound." The eventide came at noonday, but it brought with it the peace of forgiveness.

TEMPER RULED.

"A MOST agreeable man; but I hear he has a terrible temper." She would be a valuable character, but for a most

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disagreeable temper." Alas! that damping melancholy "but!" How many hearts does it wound; how many homes does it disturb; how much human happiness does it blight!

To be obliged to look anxiously in the face of one we love, to guard as we best may against the dreaded outbreak caused by some passing circumstance; to tremble with alarm for the words that may proceed from the parting lips; to be tempted to hide or to disguise the truth, lest we should call forth those angry words with which passion denounces an offence, or visits a fault! Oh! temper is one of the readiest engines of Satan to make mischief and misery in this troublesome world.

And under how many aspects it triumphs in human weakness! The passionate, the irritable, the aggravating, the sullen, the revengeful; what a cage of unclean birds it hatches! and yet who can say, I am clear of this sin ? From the infant's cry of rage

To manhood's curses, and the wrath of age,
Temper in some uncanny form appears,

To mar our pleasures, or awake our fears.

A writer* well acquainted with human nature has drawn the just distinction between "good temper' " and "good humour." While good humour affords no fair evidence of the nature of temper, a thoroughly good temper ought to control and influence the waywardness of humour. Good temper in its real and proper sense is a principle, and principles stand like rocks: humour is nothing but an impulse,

and is

"Variable as the shade

By the light quivering aspen made." Humour is connected with our animal nature, and is a sort of instinct which we possess in common with inferior creatures; but temper is a moral quality, capable of influencing human character in its usefulness relatively, and its happiness personally.

However, nurse Morley did not understand anything about this when one morning she hastily opened the nursery door, and pounced upon two little girls, one of whom was screaming with rage or pain, or perhaps both, and the other was standing by in an agony of fright. "Oh, Miss Leila, for shame! there's your wicked temper again. I shall tell your papa directly, you naughty, wicked girl!"

*Caroline Fry.

It was not nurse's business, she thought, to inquire into causes, the effects were sufficient for her; and the face of the screaming child bore sufficient evidence that a violent assault had been committed. The facts were these. Leila and Marion had been playing in their little beds until nurse should come to dress them, and the fun had become rather uproarious; pillows were dashed about in wild ecstasy, and Marian was resolute to possess herself of both, when Leila, becoming vexed, sprang forward to seize her own, and caught instead the cheek of her little sister, down which her two finger-nails had made a grievous impression. There was no use in speaking or explaining; the bleeding scratches told their own terrible tale.

The result of the nurse's report at head-quarters was, that Leila was not to appear in the family for some time, but to live on scanty fare in a room by herself, until sho should be less like a tigress and more like a kind sister.

Every day of that miserable week poor Leila cried over her terrible temper, which was always getting her into trouble. She did not know how it was; she had not intended to hurt her sister; she was shocked at having done so; but everybody said it was bad temper; so she supposed it was, and wondered if she ever should be a good child.

Marian was of a delicate constitution, and had suffered much during infancy from ill health. Pretty and playful, she was the indulged favourite of all visitors, for whom she performed all sorts of droll tricks; but it must be confessed that her good humours were chiefly reserved for the drawing room, and her bad ones for the edification of those who were not accustomed to thwart or contradict her. She was not always the injured one when the children disagreed. Leila, being shy and timid, rather avoided notice; and her very shyness was not unfrequently misinterpreted into bad temper, for which she was punished accordingly. She came to the conclusion that she was a disagreeable, ill-tempered child, whom nobody would ever love; so she did not try to win affection, and did not improve under neglect and indifference.

One day, when about twelve years old, as she happened to be reading in the dining room, her mamma desired her to show the new maid, in her absence, the manner in which the table should be laid for dinner. The new maid was awkward, and needed much patient teaching: she pulled and dragged the table cloth about so clumsily that Leila

sprang from her seat, and seizing it with both hands, the wind from the opening door catching it at the same moment, the cloth took the freak of a parachute, and wafted itself ungracefully on to the floor. Leila crimsoned with shame, and felt humbled before the new servant. 66 My bad temper makes everything go wrong," thought she, with ready selfaccusation. It was certainly a little impatient, Miss Leila, but not so irremediable as you suppose.

.

After a time the family went to reside where the children became frequent visitors at the house of their uncle, with whom dwelt the mother of their kind aunt. She was a dear old lady, whom to know truly was also to respect and love; but neither pride, vanity, nor folly could long stand the gaze of her penetrating eyes; and those who preferred crooked ways to straightforwardness and truth, took care to encounter them as rarely as possible.

Leila delighted to look at her, and received into her heart's memory (for perhaps memory lies more in the heart than the head) the warm impression of her goodness and love. She was a model of an old English gentlewoman, in her high-crowned cap, with the row of curls peeping beneath the border of lace or net, and the small quilling carried from side to side under her chin. The smooth calm brow, the bright cheerful eyes, the whole aspect were those of one whose heart had been disciplined in the school of Christ, and who, though not at fault on any subject, found her highest interest and most congenial feelings involved in his cause and service. Therefore when she spoke it was good to listen; for, though she could rebuke faithfully, she could also comfort and encourage tenderly. She won Leila's respect and admiration forthwith, and her notice made the timid girl feel very happy, though reserve hindered any manifestation of the pleasure.

One day some friend present, remarking upon a mutual acquaintance, said of her that she seemed "a very pleasant, good-tempered person."

Mrs. C noticed the remark, and did not allow it to pass without a comment. "I do not care much about good temper," said she.

Leila looked at her in amazement: could she possibly like a bad temper, then? How strange! she had never heard such a speech in her life before; and Mrs. C― little thought of the wonder her words had excited; but the speech was not quite finished.

"I do not care about what is commonly called good temper: it may be constitutional, and so no credit to its possessor; but give me the person who can control a bad temper; there is sense and goodness in that. He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.'

Was it possible? Did Leila hear aright? Could her bad temper be so controlled as to render her really as sensible and good as if she had a natural good temper, or more so? Yes, it was perfectly true; and the dear old lady had always some promise or precept from the Book she loved best, wherewith to cheer the hopes and strengthen the heart of her young disciple.

Leila set to work; and if, through her timidity not venturing to tell her thoughts and wishes, she did not at first proceed in the best way she might have done, still the mind's eye turned in the right direction, new views and feelings began to gain a happy influence, and in God's good providence she was led to that throne of grace where help" is to be found in every "time of need.”

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Yes, even the trial of a hasty and impulsive temperament, a quick rush of anger, a reckless, bitter speech, a perverse effort to have the last word, a longing to retort, or a sullen desire for revenge-all these phases of temper may be tamed by the mighty power of God's Holy Spirit; and that "ornament which in his sight is "of great price," may be won and worn amidst opposition and temptation.

Constitutional good temper may drift lightly along, making merry of life, and careless of passing circumstances, while a bad temper controlled, drilled, chastened, will render its tried possessor cautious of temptation, tender of the feelings of others, thoughtful of consequences, humble through conscious infirmity, and charitable in judgment of others' failings. The discipline such watchfulness and self-control involves, affects other features of the character, and supplies a moral ballast to keep it firm and steady on life's ever changing sea.

Humours may be like the atmosphere that very much influences them, now dancing in sunbeam, now cloudy and depressed; but temper under the guardianship of religion, subdued by grace, soothed by prayer, meekly accepting the yoke of Christ, and imbibing his spirit, will seek to live above the restless, changeful impulses that provoke it