OLD

years,

THE READING LESSON.

LD Master Green lived with his son, who is carpenter at the Hall. The old man was carpenter there before him for many but does not do much now. He has laid by enough to live upon. But if he had not, William Green would not be the man to let his father want; and his wife is as attentive to the old man as if he was her own father.

Ever since little Willy was born, now nearly six years ago, grandfather has begged that he might teach him to read as soon as he was old enough to learn. The time has come now, and here you see them at their lesson. Every morning, as soon as breakfast is over, and the carpenter is off to his work again, the old man takes his Bible, and little Willy stands at his knee and spells out the words. He can now read well enough to get through some verses without spelling. I think he has just read a verse so, by his grandfather's pleased look. The old man is very fond of little Willy, and there is no love lost between them, for the boy is just as fond of him. And I do not know which enjoys the reading lesson most. Grandfather does not make it too long; and very often stops to explain the meaning a little, or perhaps to tell a story by way of making it clearer. Thus the boy learns much, and that in the best way; and even his mother picks up a good deal, though busy at her work all the while.

What a happy place a home like this is! Love, and peace, and the fear of God are here; and every morning and evening prayer is made. God's blessing rests on such a house; and "the blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth no with it."

ONE MAY DO WITHOUT.

PART II.

sorrow

"Ah, it was a pity he said that, Robert; because he must have known that you had no such intention. And he knew, too, that such a question was likely to make you angry, and hurt your feelings. But it was well meant of him, I dare say."

"I suppose," I continued, "that Morris meant to say that every man that takes his fair allowance of beer in moderation, is sure to be a drunkard at last. Now, that is not true, is it, Master Dickson?"

"No," said he; "and it is a pity that a good cause should be weakened by bad arguments."

finish my sentence; "but I'll give you two short texts to think about: 'Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind;' that's the first; and the second is, 'For even Christ pleased not himself.""

I did think of these texts; and what followed, I will tell another time.

HOLDING THE REINS.

"HERE, my lad, just hold my horse a few

minutes, will you!" said a gentleman, as he got out of his gig, to a boy who was loitering about on the pavement; "and be sure you don't let the reins."

go

Dick Watson said, "Yes, sir," and took the bridle into his hand, fully intending to keep hold of it. He was quite old enough to know that, in a crowded street, it would be dangerous to let go the reins. For a time he stood very steadily by the horse, checking him if he moved.

All might have ended well, hnd it not been for one unguarded moment. A playfellow Dick wanted to speak to was passing down the street, and, to catch his sleeve, Dick, for a second, let go the reins. That

"He did not mean it so, Robert; so I would not think anything of the sort, if I Take it as it was meant."

were you.

"No," I replied, "I should not; and I don't think it is over civil in you to say such a thing."

Oh, I like to be faithful," said Morris. "I wish you good night, Morris," said I, and left him.

Perhaps the best thing I could do was to

comes to be a drunkard before he dies, a great many do; and there is a danger, you know, of our appetites leading us astray. It is quite true that drunken habits do not come on all at once. The biggest drunkards began to be so by taking a little in moderation."

"But if a man has got religion in his soul, Master Dickson-" I began to say, and he

liberty, moved on, and starting off suddenly, dashed down the street, causing a train of disasters. In vain Dick ran after it, in the hope of undoing the mischief. The mischief was done past recall. In a few minutes the gig was broken, and the horse so lamed as to be unfit for use. And all this came of letting go the reins.

Now cannot you think of something that needs bit and bridle, and a hand to hold them, full as much as a horse does; and that will do as much mischief if the reins that keep it in are let go?

If you cannot think of it, I will tell you: it is the temper.

A

SOLD UP.

FEW summers back, when I was travelling for recreation in the country, I chanced to be present at the sale by auction of the entire contents of a large mansion, which stood in the centre of an estate of many thousand acres of land. The land, mansion, and buildings had all been sold some weeks before to pay the debts of the owner; and now the contents of the mansion were brought under the hammer of the auctioneer, to be knocked down to the highest bidder.

To an uninterested spectator the scene was a bustling and amusing one. The whole of the large building was thrown open to the public, who wandered upstairs and down through the wide rooms, seeing what was to be seen. There were brokers from the neighbouring towns, Jew dealers from London, and shopkeepers and speculators from all parts, pulling about the handsome goods, and perhaps revolving in their minds how much they would give for them. Then there were the farmers and their wives, looking almost awestruck at the rich hangings, the gilded cornices, the broad mirrors, the dazzling chandeliers, the rich carpets, the polished furniture, and the noble paintings that adorned the walls. And when the sale for the day commenced, and the valuable things were brought one by one to be sold, and pulled about among the eager buyers, it was curious to notice the sharp strife of the bidders, the cunning of some and the simplicity of others, and the earnestness of all to obtain a bargain.

But to a thoughtful mind there was something deeply melancholy in all this stirring scene. I happened to

These were the figures of men, and women too, who had been notable in their day-men who had been merchant princes in their time, who had realized the prophetic promise of the sacred Preacher, because they had been "diligent in business," and they had "stood before kings, and not before mean men;" and women who, besides having been the wives and mothers of such men, had been benefactors to their dependents, and the ministers of kindness and charity to the poor and needy. I will confess that it gave me a pang that I should have been glad to have been spared, to see these noble pictures hauled down from the old walls which they had dignified by their presence for so many

know that this was an ancient and once honourable house, that had been the home of a wealthy race for many generations. This venerable home might have nourished the same race for generations longer, but that he who was now their living representative had been led away into evil courses, had squandered and gambled and wasted his inheritance, and brought disgrace and desolation on the hearth of his ancestors. Instead of transmitting a noble patrimony to his children, he would have to leave them to the tender mercies of others, and to seek a refuge himself in a foreign land.

Upon the walls of the noble drawing-room there hung, in majestic frames of carved and gilded oak, the portraits of the heads of the family for some centuries past-beautiful pictures painted at great cost by famous painters.

SOLD UP.

years, and put up to the rival biddings of bro. kers and dealers, amidst the clamour of tongues and the bawling of many a rude jest at the expense of the bag-wig, the powdered peruke, the huge silver buckles, the spreading ruffs, or other symbols of the long-vanished fashions which marked the time in which they were painted. It grieved me to think that even the pictures of such men and women should become the property of strangers who knew and cared to know nothing about them.

As I was leaving the place after the day's sale, I fell in with a worthy man who was a tenant on the estate. He, like all the other tenants, had suffered a good deal by the extravagance and neglect of his landlord; but it was plain that he cared less for this than for the breaking-up of the old house, which cut him to

the quick. He told me, with tears in his eyes, that all this great ruin-the loss of that almost princely heritage and the degradation of the olà family-had sprung from the indulgence of one bad habit, the habit of intemperance, and the love of evil company, to which such a habit is sure to lead. Could the owner of that vast property have kept himself sober, he would have kept his estate; but when excited with wine, he fell an easy prey to gamblers and sharpers, who having once got him in their toils, never let him free. So from year to year from youth to middle age, while his family were growing up and demanding his care, he gambled and gambled, and lost and lost, until he was stripped

bare as a wintry branch. Then, and not before, the false friends who had plundered him of all left him alone, to reap the results of his folly and madness.

I could not but see in this case how certainly "like produces like." The vice that ruins the poor man, and sends him about with a seedy coat, or with none at all, brings the rich and great who yield to it to much the same condition.

And if it be true of sin, it is equally true of goodness: "like produces like." Let the rich man give his heart to God and the Saviour, and he finds himself in the way of safety and peace. Nor can the poor man take any other course that shall so surely lead him into the same safe road for time and eternity.

LUTHER'S LOGIC.

L

UTHER says:

upon a time the devil

came to me and said: 'Mar

tin Luther, you are a great sinner, and you will be damned!' 'Stop! stop!' said I, 'one thing at a time.

I am a great sinner, it is true, though you have no right to tell me of it. I confess it. What next?' Therefore you will be damned!' "That is not good reasoning. It is true I am a great sinner; but it is written: "Jesus Christ came to save sinners;" therefore I shall be saved. Now, go your way.' So I cut the devil off with his own sword, and he went away mourning, because he could not cast me down by calling me a sinner."

THE WORLD'S WEALTH. THE swelling of an outward fortune can Create a prosperous, not a happy man ; A peaceful conscience is the true content; And wealth is but her golden ornament.

Quarles.

Children's Page.

TOM BARKER'S FIRST VOYAGE.

COM BARKER was the son of worthy and

Том

God-fearing parents. They kept a small shop in a seaport town on the southern coast. It was sometimes a hard struggle for Peter Barker to pay his way and keep his children. decently clad; but as Tom, the eldest, was now nearly fourteen, both parents were looking forward to the time when he should leave school and help them in their business.

When that time came, Tom, to their great regret, declared his wish for a seafaring life, and begged them to get him a berth on board ship. They reasoned with him seriously on the subject, and set before him both the dangers and the temptations to which he would be liable as a sailor; and Tom, who was a dutiful and tender-hearted lad, when he saw his mother's tears, forbore to urge his request, and as soon as he left school, quietly took his place behind his father's counter. It was soon made plain to his pa

rents, however, that

Tom's heart was not ini his business; so they

talked the matter over, y and finally agreed to

refer it to Captain Simmons, and abide by his advice. Now Captain Simmons was the master of the Swallowmerchant. man, then at anchor in the bay. He had known Tom from the time that he was in arms. He declared that Tom was cut out for a sailor, and offered to take him apprentice at once without a premium. The offer was accepted, and from that moment Tom was another boy; all his

cheerfulness returned, and but for the sight of his mother's clouded face he would have been perfectly happy. The Swallow was to sail in a week; so Tom was at once bound to Captain Simmons, and his outfit prepared. When the moment of departure came, Tom's mother, as she gave him the farewell kiss, put into his hand her own pocket Bible, begging him to read it every day.

But now the signal for the pilot was flying at the mast-head of the Swallow, and Tom had to go on board in the pilot-boat. His father and some of his old schoolfellows ran down to the pier to see him off. They waved their hats and handkerchiefs to the boat as it scudded across the blue waters; and they saw that Tom, with

some of his companions, was returning their signals-and that was the last they saw of Tom Barker for nearly two years.

We will now see how it fared with Tom on board the Swallow, which was a fine vessel of 700 tons, bound for the other side of the world. Tom had imagined that because he could manage a boat he should never be seasick; but the Bay of Biscay undeceived him completely. He was sick and ill for three whole days, and it was not until he had left home more than a week that he was fit to set about anything. It was not long, however, before Tom made it appear that he was fond of his profes

SEEING TOM OFF.

sion and happy in it. By attention to orders, he speedily earned a good character from all whose approbation was worth having. Unfortu nately these were not very many. The greater part of the crew were godless men. They would sneer at his simple speech and manners, and try to make him as bad as themselves. One man especially, Shag Reynolds, as he was called, from his long hair and whiskers, delighted in playing him some rough trick. As Tom did not resent this unkindness, but was ever ready to oblige any one of them, they in return left off teasing him. Only Reynolds, who seemed to hate the very sight of a Bible or the words of a prayer, continued to annoy him.

The voyage out was prosperous and speedy. The Swallow arrived at her Indian port after a voyage of little more than four months. Thence she sailed for China, and anchored in the river off Canton. Here she remained for some time taking in her cargo, and Tom was often on shore, his skill as oarsman rendering his services valuable in the passages to and from the ship. Like many others on board, however, he began to long for the time when they should turn their faces homeward, and it would be hardly possible to describe his delight when at length the anchor was weighed, and the sails were set for old England.

The homeward voy

age was for a long time stormy and tempestuous. But the Swallow behaved famously in the long gales, and arrived at the Mauritius with little damage.

It happened on the day after leaving Port Royal that Reynolds, while reefing a sail aloft, lost his footing and fell into the sea. Tom, who was watching, plunged over the side after him almost at the same time. This promptitude saved the life of the unfortunate man, who was floating quite senseless when the lad swam up to him. Both were speedily hauled on board; and in five minutes Tom was again at his duty, while poor Reynolds, bleeding and gasping for life, lay writhing in his sick-bed.

the shop, with a newspaper in his hand, "the Swallow has arrived in the Downs, and who knows how soon we may see our Tom ?" "Why here he is," said little Billy Barker; and sure enough, as the child spoke, in came Tom, grown a head taller, and burnt as brown as a berry, followed by a tall sickly man with huge sandy whiskers. The man stood aside as the boy rushed to the embrace of his parents. Then he came forward and told them how Tom had saved his life, and how while he lay sick. and despairing, their dear boy had tended and soothed him, and read to him from God's Holy Word, and prayed with him; and how through God's great mercy, he, the once hardened blasphemer, had learned to pray himself, and to hope for pardon through his Redeemer.

There was true happiness in Peter Barker's house that night.