cropping, the black stone caught fire, at which they were greatly astonished, and circulated the report of a new miracle, which was the special manifestation of their god of fire, who had caused the very stones to burn. Multitudes flocked to the spot, a new shrine was erected, and wor-, ship offered to the god of fire. Some Europeans hearing of it, went to the place, and soon ascertained the real nature of the miracle, which they turned to profitable account, by digging and working a mine that has since supplied the Ganges steamers in Upper India with coal. A GOOD REFERENCE. A stranger, entering a Methodist prayer-meeting, made some remarks, in the course of which he said, "If you don't believe I've got religion, go and ask my wife-she'll tell you." The expression came out so bluntly, as almost to cause an explosion of laughter. But is it not a good refer The Sunday-School. TOO BIG TO OBEY A MOTHER. A boy "too big to mind his mother!" Such a boy must be larger than a giant, and one with strange ideas of the rights of big people. I should not like to live near him, or even to see him, for I should expect he would feel "too big" to mind the laws of his country or the laws of God, and thus be a dangerous neighbour. I am told that there are such boys, or rather those who think they are "too big to mind their mother." What does your mother want you to do? To stay in evenings, to avoid associating with bad boys, to read useful books, to shun novels and bad newspapers, to mind your studies or trade, or whatever you are engaged in on week days, with diligence, and on the Sabbath to be regular at chapel and Bible-class; and, above all, she wants to see you a faithful Christian boy. This, you own, would make her happy beyond description; and you feel "too big " to yield to her wishes, do you? My boy, believe me, you are in a most dangerous state of mind, both for this world and the next. Think of Christ, the "King of kings, and Lord of lords." When he was old enough and wise enough to confound the learned doctors in the temple at Jerusalem, he was none too old and wise to obey his mother; and when he was dying, he took care to provide her with a son to render her honour and affection. Believe me, when you are small enough to depend upon your mother for food and clothing, and daily care, and while she is so anxious to see you grow up into a good and worthy man, and so willing to make any sacrifice to help you on in life, you should be ashamed to say, or even think, "I am too big to mind my mother." Search all the biographies in your own or your father's library, and tell me if you can find a case of a man distinguished for greatness and goodness who allowed such a thought to enter his mind. No; such men prize a good, watchful mother, obey her godly maxims as long as they live, and teach them to their children. You are "too big" to disobey your mother; but don't allow yourself, my dear boy, to become such a monster of iniquity as to be "too big to mind" a good mother. LOVE YOUR PARENTS. CHILDREN should never delay obeying their parents because they are busily doing something which they desire to finish. How very naughty to say, "Wait, mother; I will come directly; " or, "I will do it soon." This is self-will, which is entirely contrary to the teachings of the Bible. You must honour your father and mother if you would live long and be happy. Many children have been cut down and laid in an untimely grave, merely from a single act of disobedience. We very often see accounts of boys being drowned, particularly on the Sabbath, from going skating or fishing, contrary to the commands of their parents. Little girls are often burned to death, or injured in some other way, from the same cause. Is it not a beautiful sight to behold a welltrained family of children, all willing and anxious to render that obedience which God's holy book requires, and which nature itself teaches us is right? If children are taught obedience to parents, they will find it much more easy to submit to the teachings of God's Holy Spirit. You may think lightly of grieving your kind parents while you have them with you; but in all probability, though the young, too, may die, you may be left an orphan. Then, when all is dark before you, a father's earnest voice, a mother's tearful eye, seem ever present. Oh, disobedient child! whoever you may be, reflect upon the possibility of your parents being taken away from you! How could you bear the terrible accusation of conscience? "Remorse, remorse," would be unavailing. Those fond beings, who loved you more tenderly than anything else on earth, are gone; and, so far as we know, cannot hear the repentant tones, or see the falling tear, of their heart-broken child. Love your parents, dear children. Rest assured you will never look back with regret upon one single sacrifice made for mother's or father's sake. BAD BOYS MAKE BAD MEN. MANY years ago a little boy lived in ancient Rome who was very cruel to harmless animals. He delighted to torture and kill flies, and would pursue the little creatures hour after hour with a pin, to pierce them through, and see them flutter and die in agony. Do you think that a boy so cruel became a kind, loving man? Not he. As he grew older he exhibited the same cruel disposition towards men. At last he was made Emperor of Rome, and then he advanced in cruelty at a most fearful rate. This man was the bloody Nero, who killed his own wife, and ordered his mother to be assassinated. Nor was this all. He delighted so much in cruel things, that he finally ordered the city to be set on fire, just to see how it would look. And when it was burning, he seated himself upon a high tower, and sung, and played upon his lyre. Was this strange? Is not a cruel boy likely to become a cruel man? Killing men in manhood is only a further development of killing flies in childhood. I have seen many a boy, and girl, too, engaging in this cruel sport of tormenting flies, and I always say to myself, "Perhaps they are little Neros." An aged sea captain, who had spent a long life upon the ocean, said to a lady, "On ship-board I 66 can tell in a very short time what glory brightness of the eternal any sailor was in his boyhood." It world. was because "the boy is father to the man." He added, "I find invariably that a bad sailor is made out of a bad boy." When he saw a reckless, profane, vicious son of the deep," he at once concluded that he was little better when a lad. Now this is just what might be expected. It is just what is seen in other things. Poor wool or cotton makes poor cloth. Poor cloth makes a poor coat. Poor farms produce poor crops. Poor timber makes a poor house. And so wicked children make wicked men and women. A poor coal-miner, who feared God, was in the habit of always taking his Bible with him when he went down into the pit, that he might read a few verses when he left off work to eat his meals. He had a lad who worked with him, and who, having received a Bible at his Sabbathschool, by the advice of his father took it with him too. One day when they were at work, the father turned round and stepped a few paces to reach one of his tools, when, lo! a part of the roof fell in between him and the boy. The father, who was unhurt, was in great trouble to know whether the boy was killed or not. He shouted, and the boy answered; but it was to tell his agonized father that his feet were crushed under heavy pieces of coal, and that he could not move. "What can I do for you my poor, dear lad?" exclaimed the father. "Nothing, I fear," said the boy; "but my lamp is not out yet, and am reading my Bible. The Lord is with me." Help was called, and, after some hours of hard labour, the miner's boy was found. His lamp had gone out, but the lamp of life-the Bible -had shed light upon his soul, while the body, suffocating for want of air, was about to yield up the spirit from the darkness of that horrid pit into the more than sun EYE-GATE AND EAR-GATE. A man once lived on a lonely island, and built himself a mud-house to live in. He made four walls, but he would not make a door, because he feared the wild beasts and the wild men; so he made a ladder, and when he wished to go out or come in, he fixed the ladder against the wall, and when the ladder was drawn in, he felt himself safe. Our body, which is the house in which we live, is not so made. It has gates by which things can go in and out. There is eye-gate and eargate, through which things good and bad are always coming into our mind and heart. A little boy was one day playing at marbles; he had only two left, and his little friend had a bagfull. As the little boy was looking at the bagfull of marbles, a bad desire came in at eye-gate, and seemed to say, "Why should he have so many, while you have so few?" Soon after, a bad thought came in at ear-gate, and said, "If you cheat him of three or four, it will not be found out." The little boy was a good boy, and feared God; he knew what was right and wrong, and he would not cheat, because he knew it was as bad as to steal. We must learn to set a watch at eye-gate and ear-gate, so that no bad thoughts or desires come in, or else they will come in when we are not aware, and it will be very hard to get them out again. At eye-gate we must learn to look up to God at all times, and he will look down on us, to help us and take care of us; and at ear-gate we must listen to his good laws, so that we may obey, and love and serve him as long as we live. A GOOD LITTLE GIRL. BEFORE a good little girl lies down on her pillow, she kneels down and thanks God for his goodness to her. Can a kitten thank God? No; because a kitten cannot think or the minister. "I was walking along one day, and met a little boy. The little boy stopped at my side. Please, sir,' he said,' will you take a tract? and please, sir, will you read it?' Tracts! I always hated tracts and such things, but that understand about God. You can, because you have a soul; it is your soul that thinks of God. Besides thanking God, this little girl asks God to forgive her naughty thoughts and naughty actions, and make her good and obedient, like his dear Son. She wants to be one of God's chil-' Please, sir,' overcame me. I could dren. She also prays God to take care of her in the night. When her father and mother are asleep, they cannot watch over her little bed, and keep her from harm. Whose eye never sleeps? It is God's. He looks down upon her all the dark night through, and sends his angels to tend her. Do you know the pretty verse, "I lay my body down to sleep; Peace is the pillow of my head; While well-appointed angels keep Their watchful stations round my bed?" not swear at that kind-spoken 'Please, sir;' no, no. I took the tract, and I thanked the little boy, and I said I'd read it; and I did read it, and the reading of it saved my soul. I saw I was a sinner, and I saw that Jesus Christ could save me from my sins. That'Please, sir,' was the entering wedge to my old hickory heart." TABLE MANNERS. LITTLE folks, are you polite at your How sweet to feel safe in God's meals? tender care. THE POOR BOY. DON'T be ashamed, my lad, if you have a patch on your elbow; it is no mark of disgrace. It speaks well for your industrious mother. For our part, we would rather see a dozen patches on your jacket than hear one profane or vulgar word escape from your lips, or smell the fumes of tobacco in your breath. No good boy will shun you because you cannot dress as well as your companion; and if a bad boy sometimes laughs at your appearance, say nothing, my good lad, but waik on. We know many a rich and good man who was once as poor as you. Fear God, my boy, and, if you are poor, but honest, you will be respected a great deal more than if you were the son of a rich man, and were addicted to bad habits. "PLEASE, SIR." "SIR, do you want to know how I was converted, I, an old gray-headed sinner?" said a good old man to his minister. "Tell me," answered The following beautiful lines are so simple, practical, and comprehensive, and directly to the point, that we re-insert them: In silence I must take my seat, must not scold, nor whine, nor pout, A CHILD'S EVENING HYMN. Nicely cover'd in my bed, Harm and danger from my head. Though my tender parents tire, Break my slumbers with affright. Soon my weary eyelids close; Soon my little limbs, undrest, Quietly, in sweet repose, Till another morning, rest. God is my preserver; he Cares for little ones like me. By and by, in sleep of death, I must lie down in the grave; But the Lord, who gave me breath, Then my trembling soul can save. Helpless, sinful though I be, JESUS died for such as me. WISHES. Oh, that mine eye might closed be That no vain thought might ever rest, Glory may to my God be brought. Oh, purge out all my dross, my sin! Poetry. GO WHERE THE DEAD REPOSE. Go where the dead repose, Ere day is done; When the low wind is heard, And scarce the leaves are stirr'd, Mourneth alone! Softly, oh, softly tread Folded to rest. Above them blest. Low moss and creeping vine, There greenly wreathe, Everywhere breathe! And the dews weep Peace, from her wanderings, O'er their abode. Till time and change are done, Alone with God! |