THE FROSTY DAY. WHAT "Who loves not spring's ecstatic hours, "Who loves not winter's awful form, The sphere-born music of the storm? But objects of interest are without number on every side, as every lover of a frosty day knows well. And who that can does not enjoy a sharp frost with a clear sky and sparkling snow in the country? However intense the cold, the spirits rise and a feeling of delight springs up; and the young, the healthy, and the vigorous, long to be abroad. There is, however, as in most earthly things, another side to the picture; and for the poor, the sick, and the aged, the bright sharp cold, which is joy to some, brings much and various suffering. As regards these the frosty season should be made the occasion for higher enjoyment than that of mere outward pleasure. This enjoyment will be found in relieving the sufferings of the needy and the ailing, feeding the hungry and providing them with covering and warmth; and, while thus supplying their bodily wants, not forgetting to present to them the Bread of life for the soul, and the covering that hides it from condemnation the Saviour and his righteousness-and the Holy Spirit that gives it light, and warmth, and love. THE BEST PATRON: "Godliness hath the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." On a pond, which I passed half an hour ago, were two or three groups of happyhearted lads, young men, and others. Six or eight boys were chasing one another over a long slide one young man was, as it seemed, making his first trial on skates, for every time he stirred he showed fear, whirling his arms about in the air to keep his balance while another rejoicing in his superior skill gained the admiration of the by-NOW, Ben, thou 'rt going to work like a standers, by skating backwards, cutting the outside stroke, and forming the figure eight. A young urchin had tied under one of his shoes a lump of ice as a skate; and a few girls, and lesser boys, used a smaller slide at the further end of the pond. Winter has its pleasures; and being of a hardy kind, they brace the frame of the body, and give a spring to the spirit. The fields around are only partly covered with snow; and the broad patches of brown blend well, in the distance, with the white colour which mostly prevails. Neither sun nor cloud, neither shine nor shadow, is to be seen above the horizon-all is gray. The wood scene is a striking one: the oaks, with reddish brown and yellow leaves, the elms, birch, and other trees sprayed, and the holly, with its red berries, and glossy green leaves, shining amidst the snow, powdered over with frost. The ditch and bank are not to be despised with their dry wood, withered foliage, reedy grass, sedge, and weeds of all kinds, overhung with straggling purplecoloured briars. In the midst are numberless miniature caverns, holes, cracks, and crevices; safe and snug retreats for beetles, spiders, rats, mice and such "small deer" as make the wood their covert, and lie snug in their warm and comfortable retreat, while the wintry winds blow over them harmlessly. man. Be obedient and industrious, and let father see that his son is going to tread in his own honest steps." So said a good woman to her boy, as he turned out after his father to his day's work. The father was a labouring man, who had earned his living by the sweat of his brow, and having given his son as much of education as was then thought suitable to his position in life, called upon him to share his daily toil, and earn a living by his side. He He had so far prospered in his calling as to have now two or three men occasionally in his pay, but he was always with them himself, his hand to the work, whatever it might be, and carefully responsible for its being well done. "Father, let's stand by and see him," said Ben, as they passed from one place of work to another, about ten o'clock one November to another, about ten o'clock one November morning. Well, my son, just a minute; we've no "I should like to see you like that, father," said Ben gravely, as they hastened on. "Me, my lad! More likely thee, if thou mind'st thy ways and strive to honour God, for it's written in the Holy Book, Them that honour me I will honour, and they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed.' Who'd have thought, ten years ago, that I should have got on and so well to do, and a pound or so laid by for old age? I thank the good Lord, who helped me up when I was sore cast down and crestfallen." "I wonder if the good Lord would ever make me mayor of my native town," was the curious thought that flitted across the youth's mind. He blushed, and felt ashamed of such presumption; and some little voice whispered within his heart, "Ask Him to make thee a Christian, and leave all the rest to his will." Earth's dreams seldom come to anything, but trust in God makes sure of a blessed heaven. And Ben worked day by day. Nothing was too hard or too lowly for his willing hand, especially if his father wanted it done; and his fellowlabourers liked him, and said he would make a good master some day. In the evening he was allowed time for his books; and while his hand hardened with labour, his mind expanded in intellectual vigour. He was not particularly gifted by nature, but he strove, and persevered, and conquered difficulties. Time passed; the good father died, leaving an honest name, and a modest business to his sons. They took care of their aged mother, and helped the younger members of the family. Ben's work was liked; he was steady, punctual, and honourable in all his ways. He saw many a procession to and from that old town hall, and had a vote in municipal elections, and in due time in borough and county elections too. Time passed; he had built many fine houses for other people, and at last ventured on one for himself. People wondered, but all who knew him said he deserved it well, for, amidst all his business engagements, he ever stood forward as the uncompromising champion of the truth of God, and the open-handed friend of the poor and destitute. One morning the mayor's carriage swept round the area that led to the town hall, as if the beautiful horses were proud of their burden, for they bore one who had been a lowly son of toil to the chair of chief magistrate in his native town. A gentleman in the prime of life alighted, and with modest mien stood for a moment where many years before, with admiring interest, he had watched a predecessor stand acknowledging the congratulations of his fellow-townsmen. Kind hands were pressed, and loud voices cheered the January 1st, 1861. new-made mayor, in whose features might still be traced those of the youthful labourer in whose heart had whispered the voice which said, "Ask God to make thee a Christian, and leave all the rest to him." In his obedience to that suggestion lay the secret of after prosperity. It began in his humble home, by his little bedside, where he "sought first the kingdom of God and his righteousness," and where he "laid up in his heart" that holy word which had been "a lamp to his feet and a light to his path," where he learned how to be a dutiful son, a kind brother, and an honest citizen. And now, with increased and increasing influence and responsibility, he was elected to fill the highest office of the city, amidst the wealthy, the learned, and even the royal, who occasionally might grace his official mansion. Christian principle had been a safe path to public honour, as well as "a light to shine before men," in proof of the possession of Divine favour. Na IN THE TWO LITTLE GIRLS. a small room at the top of one of the houses in a poor court in London sat a little girl about ten years old. It was summer-time, and the sun was shining bright without; but within the room little comfort The walls and ceiling were was to be seen. black with dirt and smoke, little light could come through the dingy window-panes, and for furniture there was nothing but a table and two broken chairs, and a heap or two of straw in the corners of the room to sleep on. The little girl was pale and thin. No rosy cheeks were there, such as one looks to see at her age. Her face looked too old for her body, and seemed grave and sad beyond her years. She was at work with her needle. But she did not get on fast; for at every sound on the stairs the little fingers would stop, and she would sit with an anxious face as if watching who would come. It was plain that she was expecting some one, and some one of whom she was afraid. Fear was written on those wan little features, and every step on the stairs made it more plain to read. Who was coming? Her father, her own father, her only parent, for her mother was dead long ago. She had no brothers or sisters, that poor lone little girl; she lived all alone with her father, and he was-do you guess what he was?-a drunkard. He was not unkind to her when he was sober, for he had a sort of love for his little motherless child; but when he was in drink-as he was more often than not-then she had a hard time of it. Oh! how happy she was and then, he would come when, once now THE COTTAGER. home quite sober. Then she had no fear. Thus passed the time of this poor little One summer's evening another little girl, way. Fathers, see what you can do for evil or for good. See how happy you can make TRUST IN GOD AND DO THE RIGHT. COURAGE, brother! do not stumble, "Trust in God and do the right." Let the road be long and dreary, And its ending out of sight, Perish all that fears the light; Trust no party, church, or faction, Fiends can look like angels bright; Some will flatter, some will slight; Cease from man, and look above thee"Trust in God and do the right." Simple rule and safest guiding, Inward peace and inward light; Star upon our path abiding "TRUST IN GOD AND DO THE RIGHT." |