stood there. His hat was gone into her chair, looking so pale, I his umbrella too-his frowsy hair began to understand that she was was wet, and his hands purple and giving her darling boy a lesson ; cold; but in a plucky voice he ad- but she nearly broke my heart as dressed mother :

well as Tom's and her own in doing "Please tell me the price of a it. night's lodging in B

“Eight o'clock came, and with it "I gave a man a shilling yester- falteringly, slowly, camé Tom's day, that bought him both bed and step in the porch. He rang the supper.'

bell, but it only tinkled feebly. "Will you take me in here to. This time we all sprang to meet night ? ' asked Tom. 'I can pay him, mother leading us, and openyou. And he coolly showed ing the door. mother his handful of pennies. 16. Would you,' sobbed poor,

"No,' mother replied ; 'we tired Tom, would you-would you don't take in tramps here. Perhaps let me come in and warm my poor they would at Nichols's, across the little hands ? I am-Jennie, I am road.'

so sorry!' ""But,' said Tom, his little lips “In a minute, in a second, Tom trembling, 'I-I-love you!! was folded in mother's arms, sob

"Mother's lips trembled too. bing, repentant, wet, drabbled--yes, "That's a very strange thing for a we were all sobbing." strange man to say to me. What " Well, auntie," was Frank's do you mean, sir?' And then, comment, “I think Uncle Tom was somehow, she shut the door in poor just a brick !” emphasising the Tom's face."

last word with a thump of his “Oh, oh!” broke in Frank; clenched fist on the white fur rug. "how could she do it! how could "No; I think mother was the you let her, auntie! it was just brick,' as you say. At least, all meaner than-Oh, auntie, how she ever after that had to do to mean it was!"

disperse' Tom's temper was to "But by the time mother had say, ' Does my little boy wish to be got back into the sitting-room, and ) taken at his word ?'

WORDS TO CHRISTIAN SHIRKERS. WHILE so many are speaking words to “Christian workers," perhaps we may be pardoned for saying a few words to Christian shirkers, especially as the workers are comparatively few, and the shirkers are very many. ... We know it is unreasonable to expect everybody to do that which It is perfectly reasonable that they should do, simply because reason is not the sole guide of men; other influences and interests often controlling their actions. It is reasonable that the man who eats should work, and that the man who works should eat; and yet in many instances the reverse is the case. It is reasonable that every man who has named the name of Christ should depart from iniquity, and serve the Lord ; but he who expects all men to do this is doomed to grievous disappointment.

It is natural for many persons to seek to evade their responsibilities and avoid their duties. They shirk their domestic duties, and instead of serving God in their own households they fill their homes with worldliness, and practise their religion at church; they neglect to teach their families the fear of God, and turn their children over to the care of the Sunday-school; they sbirk the duties of social life, and ask the question of Cain, “Am I my brother's keeper ?” When circumstances of necessity call for the willing heart and the strong and ready hand, such men step aside and allow others to take the places which they should fill, and bear the burdens which they ought to bear. When financial responsibilities are to be incurred, they sbirk the load from their own shoulders on to the shoulders of those that are far weaker than they. When reproaches assail, and truth is uppopular and dishonourable, they shrink from reproach, and content themselves with a secret adhesion to the truth and right, which they allow men to reject and dishonour without protest or defence.

The Christian sbirker does himself an incalculable wrong in speaking away from the cross of Christ, and from the labours and burdens that pertain to His service. He loses more than he can gain. He that would find his life must lose it, and he that loses his life for Christ's sake shall find it. By this pusillanimous shirking of respon. sibility a man parts with his manliness, loses God's blessing, loses in. ward peace, loses the joy of the Holy Ghost, and peradventure loses all at last. Meroz shrinks from the perils of the battle-field, and wios the curse of God. No man who is a sbirker can be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might. No man who is a sbirker can be a tower of strength in life's great warfare. No man who is a shirker can be an instrument of much blessing to bis fellows in this world, nor can he have a very bright hope for the world that is to come. For first in that dark catalogue of characters who are doomed to the second death in the lake of fire, stand "the fearful,” or “the cowardly," followed by the unbelieving, the abominable, the murderers, the whoremongers, the sorcerers, the idolaters, “and all liars.” This doomed and despairing army, who turn from the light and glory of the golden city, and, bidding farewell to hope and joy, plunge downward into the burning abyss, are led by the cowards, the men who have fled from duty and reproach and right, and so have made haste to meet their fiery doom.

Let the cowardly and those who shirk their responsibilities and refuse to bear the burdens which belong to them, be warned lest they be found at last outside the celestial gates; and let those who seek a home and heritage there listen to the apostolic exhortation : “Watch yo, stand fast in the faith, be manful, be strong!”

DUST AND ASHES. GNARLED, rugged, weather-beaten minister himself made sure his as an old oak, was Norman Stuart, work was done, and was praying the leading deacon of a Baptist and looking for a change. The church in the far North. His worthy deacon said the funds were worldly and spiritual wealth were low, and that was a bad sign. both hidden. People named him Things were certainly not in a dour, firm, close, or stingy, accord- flourishing condition. One here ing to their knowledge of him, or and there went on their knees their standard of judging. When among the ashes, and though the minister once read about “a blinded by the dust, tried to breathe bard man reaping where he had life into the sparks. not strawed," some people looked It was a lovely Sabbath morning slyly at the big pew where sat in the early summer. Flora was Deacon Stuart and his bonny out in the garden seeking a rose, daughter Flora, who was really “a her father was in the parlour readwinsome wee thing and as gude as ing the Lamentations of Jeremiah. she was bonny.” So said the real Hastily a boy came from the postjudge of character, who dissected a office, with a telegram which should sermon or person with equal skill. have been delivered the evening Father and daughter were as regu- before. Flora opened the envelope lar as the clock in their places on anxiously, and turned pale. She the Sabbaih; and, but for them looked on the message transfixed, the week meetings would often then uttering a low, sad moan, have come to grief. He did the went to ber own room and praying, and she led the singing, swooned. Hearing a noise, her for the minister was not very useful father hurried up stairs and found in religious work. The prayer- his daughter lying on the floor like meetings were a dull affair to some, one dead, insomuch that some who for what with the worthy minister came said, “She is dead." in a somewhat lugubrious manner. Slowly recovering, she looked moaning for a revival, and the piteously up in her father's face, worthy deacon pleading, the two and said, “Roderick was drowned or three pennies, and only two or in Loch Lomond." three sisters sprinkled here and The old man knew all the words there along the hungry seats, it meant to his beloved child; for to really was enough to try the Roderick she was betrothed. Childpatience of Job, not to speak of ren had they been together, and the brittle temper of our worthy their love had come unbidden and friend the minister. So it went on, unknown, all silently as an angel week in, week out, till at last a whisper. And the old man bowed new face in the church would have his head and wept as he had not been a phenomenon.

wept since he lifted up Flora to Dry as dust were all the services, take a last look at her dead mother. with no heaven - sent shower to He turned to the window, hiding make the dust into soil.

his tears, and great clouds of dust Ashes on the altars, ashes of swept before the gathering storm of former fires, where was the live rain. coal to come from ?

When the minister entered the One member said better singing pulpit that morning and saw the would draw the people. Another deacon's empty seat, he knew there wanted a revival preacher; the I was something wrong, and feared

lest he had given offence in word or “It seems all so strange and deed. His sermon was a burden terrible, father, that I should be to him, and when the service was torn away from Roderick, and we over he left the church with a sad had such bright life before us." heart, saying to himself, “ The clods “God's ways are very mysterious, of the valley will be sweet unto my my child,” he said, drawing her taste."

close to him and kissing her brow. Soon the news spread during the “ And yet we know He doeth all week, and everybody said, “ Puir things well. Perhaps both of us Miss Stuart ! she will be broken- have been too much taken up with hearted.”

the world, and God has made it And so she was; but is there not dark to show us heaven.” something about the sacrifice of a For some time after, the old man broken heart? “Wounded affec-was lost in thought, and there came tions ;” yes, but why are they up from the deep sea of his memory broken and wounded? Why, but bubbles of wisdom, disturbed by to make them ready for the sacrifice. that stony grief. And so when To Flora came a trite couplet : Flora came, looking more cheerful " I hold it true whate'er befall,

with being alone with God and I feel it when I sorrow most,

His works, her father said, “Things 'Tis better to have loved and lost, come back to my mind now, Flora, Than never to have loved at all.” I thought had been quite forgot. To Deacon Stuart came, " He

Roderick had a short life, but will not break the bruised reed, nor

short lives are often the best lives. quench the smoking flax."

Jesus was only three years, at the For all true poetry and all true

most, in public. We never can promises there is a resurrection

see those we love till they are set from the dead.

as stars in heaven. Loss is gain. "Father,” said Flora, “let us go

| Whatever God takes, He gives back and see where Roderick lost his

to us clothed in the beauty of life.”

heaven. There is a natural body His eyes filled with tears, and he

and a spiritual body, and seed said tenderly, “If you wish it, my

should I fear the dust which tells | born babes desiring the sincere of my Father's footsteps ?”

milk of the word." "God is in His Holy Temple. Flora from a sacrifice became a Let all the earth keep silence before priestess, though she knew it not; Him."

and ere long the ashes were blazThe cloud came back with the ing with altar fires, and the dust deacon and Flora, but it was a teeming with the spring. cloud of blessing. In among the duties went the twain - and in “Broken hearts, like broken grapes, work found healing.

Make the wine of God." Dry as dust no longer were the prayer - meetings, for the founda- The stars are silent over us, and tion of the great deep had been the dead silent under us, but who opened up. The minister preached knows not that the silent things with the accents of conviction, and are the most eloquent to him who the deacons prayed with new fer- has ears to hear ?-From the Scotvour, and there was a cry of new- tish Baptist Magazine.

MAKE IT RIGHT! THERE are few persons who are not conscious of having wronged their fellow-men. They may dispute it, question it, or deny it, but they know that it is true nevertheless. The question then arises, what should be done? There are many who know the wrong, but will not admit it; there are others still who both know and admit the wrong-doing, but who take no steps toward repairing the mischief they have wrought or undoing the wrong which they have done.

Strictly speaking, the wrong act done can never be undone; the wrong word said cannot be unsaid; but no man who has been guilty of wrong should rest satisfied until he has done his utmost to make suitable reparation. If he has wronged his neighbour pecuniarily, let him make restitution, not in scrimped and scanty measure, but liberally and heartily and ungrudgingly. Let him restore fourfold. If he has said wrong things, let him promptly and openly recall them. Let his apologies be as distinct and hearty as his accusations have been. Let bim in a manly and Christian way, so far as in him lies, remove all occasion of grief or grievance. Let him see to it that the false impressions that he has given be corrected, that the slanders which he has attered be recalled. Thus, and thus only, can he win back the love he has forfeited, and hope to receive the blessing of the Lord whom he has offended.

Thousands of Christians and churches are suffering through neglecting to take such stumbling-blocks out of the way. Men will do wrong, will injure or misrepresent a brother, and then while he is grieved and stricken at heart, will endeavour to go right along as servants of God without correcting their mis-statements or confessing their wrongs. Such circumstances frequently are sufficient to account for the deadness