the heart, we are all lost sinners; we all need a Saviour to take away our sins, and to sanctify us through his Spirit. Come, then, dear children, let us ask him for his grace. He is the Friend of sinners and the Friend of children, and of his great love he will certainly hear us!"

Many of the children were much moved by these words, and, deeply affected, they all returned to their homes.

DO NOT BE TOO POSITIVE.

Do not be too sure that you are always right in your opinions. Remember, if you are right in one particular, you may be wrong in others. Do not boldly contradict, but calmly express your reasons, and patiently bear with those whose understanding is less clear, or whose reason may be disturbed by passion. Rather than "It is," and "It isn't," "You did," and "You didn't," say, "It seems to me," or "I think it is," or "If I mistake not." Avoid all rude and ill-natured expressions, as calling one foolish, obstinate, or provokingly stupid. Our aim should be to advance the truth, not ourselves. It often happens that much time is wasted and temper lost in matters of no great consequence. Let us readily yield in trifles. While in all cases concerning duty and happiness we are faithful to the right, let us remember to hold the truth in meekness.

As Amos the blacksmith was working one day,
Young Joseph the idler was passing that way:
The door of the shop stood invitingly near,

And Joseph walked thither, some new thing to hear.

The blacksmith worked briskly from morning till night,

And, make what he would, it was sure to be right;

When his arm rose aloft, with its powerful swing, The blow that came down made the huge anvil ring. The farmers all round who had horses to shoe, Asked first whether Amos the business could do; He had jobs from the dawn till the set of the sun, For when Amos did work, it was sure to be done.

Young Joseph stood watching the blows as they fell:

Though Amos said nothing, he saw the boy well; But busily shaped he, and turned round his shoe, While hither and thither the shining sparks flew.

At length said young Joseph, "It seems to me hard

That a man from all pleasure should thus be debarred,

Should work all the day through, from morning till night,

Hardly stopping to rest, losing every delight."

Quoth Amos, not pausing to look up or down, "Better work for your bread than be kept by the town:

Saith the Good Book, whose precept you may not defeat,

If a man will not labour, then shall he not eat!"

"Such labour, I'm sure," said the youth, in reply, "In a fortnight would kill me if once I should try!" "Not a bit of it, lad: you'd grow active and hale, Whereas you are now looking puny and pale.

66 Depend on it, Joseph, there's One who knows best How much we should toil, and how much we should rest:

His ordinance is given, and to it we must bow:'Man shall eat of his bread by the sweat of his brow.'

"Nor should the decree be called penal alone, Since the fall in our world hath such wickedness

strewn ;

For ofttimes doth labour drive sin from our head, And toil proves no curse, but a blessing instead.

"Thus, while I submit to the rule God doth give, I cheerfully work and I happily live;

At night on my pillow I peacefully rest,

And, by night or by day, sing, 'God knows what is best!'"

Young Joseph the idler walked thoughtful away,
An idler no more to be called from that day,
But to work with his hands, or to work with his
head,

Singing, "Toil is no curse, but a blessing instead."

ANN'S KITCHEN.

SAY what you will, but there is hardly a prettier picture to be seen than the kitchen of a tidy and pious servant on a Sunday afternoon. There she sits, neatly dressed, with her Testament before her on the clean deal table. The fire is bright, the hearth well swept, the tins and brass candlesticks

all shining, the pictures-but I may as well at once give you a correct sketch of Ann's kitchen.

The walls are papered, the floor is carpeted, and there is a rug before the fire-place. The bright tins, the brass candlesticks, and the plates and dishes, occupy their proper places on the chimney. piece and the rows of shelves which reach from the dresser to the ceiling; but Ann's pictures deserve a particular notice. They are hung on all the walls, but the side of the room opposite the window is covered with them.

Ann has now been with her master and mistress in health and sickness, joy and sorrow, a period of twenty-eight years; no wonder that she attaches some value to their likenesses. There they hang near together, with that of her young master, her brothers and her sisters. Ann would not part with these for a trifle.

There is one sweet picture of young Samuel at prayer; another of the infant Saviour and the Shepherds, and as many as twenty of pious divines, and Milton and Hannah More. Besides these, there are pictures of celebrated places where she has been; flower-pieces, fruit-pieces, and others, to say nothing of stuffed birds, shells, and seaweed in boxes, with glass fronts. These, with her teatrays, tufts of feathery grass, and ornaments of sundry kinds, render Ann's kitchen a sort of picture gallery, or museum, calling forth the admiration of her friends.

Ann usually sits in the corner near the cupboard, by the fire, with her round table before her