"And where is Miss M- now?" asked Margaret. "Ah! miss, she is gone home to that Saviour she loved so well though, for a little after she left this place, she seemed better, yet when the winter came she sank rapidly. It was the day before she left she came up to see me, and brought with her that pretty geranium; and she told me to keep it, and be like it: for, she said, when she left her own home she brought it with her, and here it grew and blossomed all alone, away from its companions; and she told me that, living all lonely here on the moorland, I, too, could be a plant of righteousness, and bring glory to God by being patient. So, when mother comes in, I try to have a bright word to give her. Often, too, when I get downhearted I look at my flower, and it cheers me."

"We may, indeed, learn many lessons from nature," said Mrs. Grey; "Jesus Christ himself has told us to consider the lilies, how they grow:' and it seems to me that from the lowly daisy in the field to the noblest forest tree all call on us to praise the Lord for his goodness, and declare the wonders that he doeth for the children of men.'

HAPPY MISTAKES.

A FEW years ago there lived at Frankfort-on-the-Maine a merchant named Wagner, who possessed worldly wealth, but was "not rich towards God." He had more than once escaped from shipwreck, but his heart was unsubdued; and he was so far from praising the Lord "for his goodness, and for his wonderful works," that he positively refused to converse on Divine things, or to receive a visit from a minister of the gospel. He was far from being happy. The things of the world could not satisfy his soul; and there were times when he felt restless and ill at ease, from a conscious need of something that he did not possess. In this state of mind one evening he took his Bible, and began to read. A passage attracted his attention, but he could not understand it. He was unwilling to pass it by, and began to ask himself, "Who can explain it to me? I do not know any of the pastors in the city, and therefore I cannot go to any of them for an explanation." Still he wished to have the passage explained. He then thought of an eminent minister named Domaire; but at the same time the reflection occurred, "Mr. Domaire does not know me; how can I get at him for an explanation ?”

Just then his door-bell rang, and in his agitation of mind he answered it himself, instead of waiting for the servant to do so. Mr. Domaire stood there before him. Struck with amazement at the presence of the minister, he immediately exclaimed, "Mr. Domaire, Heaven sends you to me: come in, come!" Mr. Domaire went in, and with some surprise asked the cause of his speaking thus. He replied, "I was just thinking that if I could see you, you would explain this passage of Scripture to me." Mr. Domaire gave him the explanation he sought, and further improved the opportunity to set before him the things which belonged to his peace, by directing him to Jesus as the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The instructions given were applied by the Holy Spirit; he received the truth in the love of it, and from that time became a man of prayer—a Christian in deed and in truth.

But as the two were not personally acquainted, what led Mr. Domaire to the other's house? He was intending to call on a friend in the same street, whose house he knew well, but from absence of mind he went to the wrong door. That mistake led him just where he was needed. But who will say it was a mere accident? Who does not see in it the manifest providence of God?

Somewhat similar was an incident in the life of Felix Neff. One day, as he was walking in Lausanne, he saw at a distance before him a man, whom he took for one of his friends. He made up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, and before looking him in the face, asked him, "How does your soul prosper, my friend?" The stranger immediately turned round and looked at him with surprise; Neff perceived his mistake, apologized, and went his way. About three or four years afterwards a person came to Neff, and introducing himself, said he was indebted to him for his inestimable kindness. Neff did not recognise the man, and begged that he would explain himself. The stranger replied, "Have you forgotten a certain person, whose shoulder you once touched in one of the streets of Lausanne, and whom you asked, 'How does your soul prosper?' It was I. Your inquiry led me to serious reflection, and now I find it is well with my soul."

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Lo, all these things worketh God oftentimes with man, to bring back his soul from the pit, to be enlightened with the light of the living," Job xxxiii. 29, 30.

HENRY H- was a popular man at his college. Wealthy in expectation, and liberally supplied with present means of procuring enjoyment; good-humoured, generous, active, and healthy, with a fund of exuberant spirits, with no pressing cares to distract or disturb his mind, he was at once liked and envied.

He returned to college, and entered once more upon his studies, combined with the gaieties and dissipations to which he had been accustomed.

But an arrow had been fastened in his heart and con

science, which disturbed his peace and rest; that “ wrong turning," of which the faithful though uneducated man had warned him. Was it not true that, spiritually, he was out of the right road, aud was rapidly taking his life's journey further and further away from "God, and happiness, and heaven ?"

He could not say, No.

"There is a way which seemeth right unto a man; but the end thereof are the ways of death." He had heard this before; but never as faithfully applied to himself. And was the charge true? was the warning deserved and timely? Here, again, he could not say, No. Formerly, he had thought himself right enough in his way, likely enough, at all events, to get right at last; but would his present course conduct him to a safe termination? Had he turned out of the right way? or, rather, Had he ever entered it? How should he answer these questions?

He tried to shake them off, to drown them, to forget them. But the effort was vain.

There was a grave old physician in the university town with whom H— was on terms of friendship. Taking a solitary walk one evening, this old gentleman met the young student, who was also walking alone. They joined

company.

"H-," said the elder, "I have heard some strange remarks made about you lately."

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Strange remarks, doctor?"

"Yes; it is said that since this term commenced you have lost your vivacity, have courted solitude, have been dull and absent in company, and many other things besides."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; and, what is more to the purpose, I have observed something of this myself. Now, I do not like these symptoms; and I have wished to ask you as a friend, what ails you. May I do so now ?"

"Nothing ails me, doctor: I am quite well," said the young man, with a little reserve in his manner.

The old physician looked keenly into the face of his young friend. "You mean that you have no bodily ailment. So much the worse, perhaps there is something on your mind, then."

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:

To be frank with you, there is; but—" "But you hesitate to divulge it, I see.

This is unwise.

H-. Trust me: I think you know me to be your friend. Let me share your trouble, whatever it is. Perhaps I may help you."

"I am afraid not, doctor; but I don't know; I want advice, certainly."

'Well, then

"Well, then-I have been reading the Bible lately." "The the what?" demanded the physician.

"The Bible. Is there anything strange in my doing this?" asked the young man, with a sad smile.

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Strange! Oh, no; I don't know that there is. The Bible is a very proper book to study, no doubt. And you have been studying it, H-? Well; and what have you found there ?"

"It has made me miserable."

"Not an infrequent consequence, I fancy. But why has it made you miserable?"

"I can scarcely tell you, sir, except that it shows me plainly enough that I have taken a wrong turning."

"A wrong turning, H-! What do you mean?"

"I will explain what I mean; but pray do not laugh at me, for I am serious. Last summer, on my tour, somehow or other I lost my way in a wild part of the country, and after walking some miles in a wrong direction, I met a poor man who took a good deal of trouble in setting me right. In fact, after entertaining me in his cottage, he walked two or three miles with me to show me the right road. Well, sir, before we parted, or just as we were parting, he turned upon me in a solemn sort of way, and, in effect, told me that I was wandering out of the right road to God, and happiness, and heaven; that it was plain I had taken a wrong turning in relation to my life's journey and its end."

"Some ignorant, impertinent fellow, I dare say."

"Pardon me, no: the man did not appear to be ignorant, and he was very far from impertinent. On the contrary, he was so respectful and courteous that I could not be angry with him."

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He was an enthusiastic ranter, at any rate. I wonder, H-, that with your good sense you should have attached any importance to what he said."

"Why, I did not attach any importance to it at the time. I went off, laughing at the remembrance of his earnestness: but his words were somehow fastened on to