prospect of having to confront them, not for an age merely, or a million of ages, but to have the ordeal repeated through every point of endless duration!-Harris's "Man Primeval."

EBENEZER ERSKINE'S LAST WORDS.

"O

During the night on which he finished his earthly career, Mrs. Fisher, having come from Glasgow, to visit her dying father, was sitting in the apartment where he lay, engaged in reading. Awakened from a slumber, he said, "What book is that, my dear, you are reading?" "It is your sermon, father," she replied, "on that text, I am the Lord thy God.'" woman," said he then, "that is the best sermon ever I preached." The discourse had proved very refreshing to himself, as well as to many of his hearers. A few minutes after that expression had fallen from his lips, he requested his daughter to bring the table and candle near the bed; and having shut his eyes, and laid his hand under his cheek, he quietly breathed out his soul into the hands of his Redeemer, on the 2nd of June, 1754. Had he lived twenty days longer, he would have finished the seventy-fourth year of his age; and had he been spared three months more, he would have completed the fifty-first year of his ministry, having resided twentyeight years at Portmoak, and nearly twenty-three at Stirling.-Life, by Dr. Frazer.

PUNCTUALITY.

A committee of eight gentlemen had appointed to meet at twelve o'clock. Seven of them were punctual; but the

eighth came bustling in with apologies for being a quarter of an hour behind the time. "The time," said he, "passed away without my being aware of it. I had no idea of its being so late," &c. A Quaker present said, "Friend, I am not sure that we should admit thy apology. It were matter of regret that thou should have wasted thine own quarter of an hour; but there are seven besides thyself, whose time thou hast also consumed, amounting in the whole to two hours, and one-eighth of it only was thine own property.”

THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

Sir James Ross relates some remarkable incidents connected with his recent voyage to the Arctic regions. A bear walked into Captain Ross's party, and surveyed them with cool inquisitiveness: guns were levelled, and the bear was wounded in the head; he scratched his ear, and walked off with an air of superior contempt. Another bear was seen to slide on his haunches down a cliff of seven hundred feet high, steadying himself with his fore-paws, most "judgmatically," as the sailors said.

Here, there,-
Everywhere;-

O'er my spirit,-in the air,-
On the wall:

Muse as lightly as I may;
In the night and in the day;
When I watch and when I pray,
Shadows fall.

FLOWERS.

What are flowers?-The beauty-strokes
of Nature-Remnants left of Paradise
-Paintings of Deity-Pencillings of
God.

LET man, with all his wisdom, try
To make a simple flower;

His weakness he will soon descry,
And feel he has not power.

The flowers of wax, that ladies make,
Deceive the sense of sight;

But touch and smell will undertake
To bring the truth to light.

Compare a flower that man has made
With one that God has given;
The contrast will appear as great
As earth compared to heaven.
Cuckfield.

A. F.

SOME years ago there were in my class two of the most lovely children I ever knew. One of them, named Mary was just eight years old, and her sister, Jane, rather more than a year younger. Both were remarkably forward for their age, and uncommonly attentive to whatever might be the subject of instruction. We often read together in the Testament of the love of Him who gathers the lambs in his arms, and carries them in his bosom, and who suffered little children to come unto him, and laid his hands on them, and blessed them. And Mary wished

she had been alive when he walked about among men, and when even the little ones were the objects of his favour and regard. But as Jesus has long left this world, and now lives in heaven, yet still looks down upon all who remember his name, she used to pray to him to make her one of his children, and to love her as he did those who came to him then. Thus these two little sisters often thought about Jesus, and talked to each other of the wonderful things he used to do; and loving him and one another, they were very happy.

At the time of which I write, the fine weather was just coming on; the frost and snow were gone, and instead of these, white and yellow flowers covered the earth with beauty. Now these little girls enjoyed the summer, and often ran into the fields, and gathered the daisies and violets that were strewed about their path. But before long, Mary was taken ill, and in a short time it was said she would die, and leave her favourite walks and her summer flowers, and her dear sister. But she had often heard of death, and often thought of it, as she saw one and another of her schoolfellows carried to the silent grave. And many times she had been told of that better land "far, far away," where the bloom of summer is never brushed away by the winter's cold; where no sickness causes the head to droop, no pain or trouble causes the heart to sigh; but where she should see the Saviour she had loved, and where he would wipe away all the tears she shed at parting with those who were dear to her on earth; and where there shall be no more sorrow, no more crying, for ever. And as she lay on her dying bed, she thought again of these things; and as she thought, she sung of that happy country, and in a few more days she died: her body was laid in the grave, but her soul was carried by angels into the bosom of her Lord.

When Mary was gone, Jane would often walk by the side of the little grassy mound that covered her remains, and there plant the flowers she used to delight in, and water them with the tears the remembrance of happier hours forced from her eyes. Still she came regularly to the school,

and showed even greater interest in all those lessons of life and death, heaven and immortality, to which she listened. Nor did it the less delight her teachers to talk to her of another and a better world, because they knew that her thoughts often wandered beyond the stars, and that her heart beat faster as we dwelt upon the glories that are above, at God's right hand. And then we would kneel at the throne of grace, and offer up our united prayer, that all our sins being forgiven, we might be made fit to spend our eternity in heaven. Little, however, did I think, that ere the autumn winds had blown the yellow leaves from the trees, this little one too would have done with earth and all its changing scenes for ever. But so it was; I missed her one Sunday from her usual place, and on inquiry found she was on the bed of death.

It is a solemn thing to die; and so I felt it to be, as I went to see her for the last time. But while her mother and friends stood weeping round, she seemed, and doubtless really was, the happiest of the group. We reminded her of those well-known lines: "Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are;" and before we had finished repeating the verse, her happy spirit had taken its flight to everlasting glory. Her Heavenly Father looked down on her in love, and called her to himself; that where Mary had gone, and where Jesus is, she might be also.

My dear little reader, do you love Christ as these little girls did? Do you pray to him to pardon your sins, to give you a new heart, and make you one of the lambs of his flock? Then, indeed, are we sure that he will hear

THE CONTENTED BOY. "OH! this is so nice," said little Robert, as he and his cousin Charles sat down together by the fire in the nursery. "I've got a nice apple and this pretty book, and you have got an apple and a new top. How kind aunt is."

"Not very," said Charles sulkily; "an apple is no great thing. I am sure I expected she would have given us an orange at least; and that book of yours has frightful-looking pic

tures."

"Why, Charles, how can you talk 80?" said Robert. "I love apples dearly, and so do you too, only you won't say so for spite, because aunt did not give you all you wanted. Come don't be cross any more. I will let you read in my book, if you wish."

Here Charles angrily threw his top across the room, and told Robert he might read his own book if he wanted to; for his part, he did not like such play.

Robert, finding that it was in vain to attempt to make Charles happy and contented, moved his chair to the other side of the fire-place, and began to look over his new book with great pleasure.

Soon the flakes of snow began to fall, and both boys ran to the window, when they found the ground already white. "Now for sport," said Robert; "such a glorious ride as we shall have down hill on our sleds."

"You can if you like," said Charles ; "but I saw yesterday such a beautiful new sled that James Parker's brother gave him, that I am determined I will ride no more until I have one like it.

If

Oh! it's so beautiful, all painted green, with black lines on the edges, and brass bands on the runners. you were to see it you'd never get on that shabby concern of yours again."

"Indeed I should," said Robert,

laughing; "I have no kind brother

to give me such a fine sled, but I will not for that reason stay moping up in the house, while there is such fine sport going on. My shabby concern, as you call it, is good enough for me until I can get a better; so here goes, Charley; you can come when you get tired of staying by yourself."

Away ran Robert, with a light heart and a merry tongue, and soon his sled Charles looked on from the window, was coasting down hill famously. wishing for the new sled with brass runners, discontented and unhappy, and making every one uncomfortable about him; while Robert, with his

good-natured face, and cheerful, contented spirit, was always happy himself, and a source of happiness to

others.

THE POOR CHILD'S PRAYER.

BY MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.
MARY lived beside a brook,
A little idle child;
For never had a single book

Been in that forest wild.
She could not say her A, B, C,

Nor spell the simplest wo d;
Yet she, beneath the forest tree,
Was happy as a bird,

She gathered isinglass all day,

And pebbles in the brook,
The flowers that come before the May,
She gathered nuts upon the hill,
In their sheltered nook;

The berry in the grass,
And loved to hear the whippoorwill,
Like any country lass.

At night, when Mary went to bed,

She knelt her down to pray; "Our Father, bless me," Mary said, "Take care of me alway." And when her mother often said,

"Dear Mary, we must die; I know not how to get us bread,

Since corn has grown so high ;"
Sweet Mary said, "Our Father dear,
Give us our daily bread;"
And thought, when comes the blossom
here,

The dew is overhead;
The robin sits within his nest,
The fox within the wood;
God gives his creatures light and rest,
And love and daily food.