"HERE GOES!" "I TELL you what, Jem, I shan't smoke another pipe to-day; and I don't know but what I shall give it up altogether. Look here: how can we chaps go on spending money in tobacco, when people are starving? I know I can't. So here goes!"

Saying this, Joseph Green broke his pipe against the wall; and the penny that was to have filled it again went into the poor cotton-spinners' box.

"Well but, I say, Joe, you won't like going without your pipe either. I'm so used to my pipe, that I could not get along without it any how."

"I dare say I shall miss it for a day or two. But only think of not having a bit of bread to give to your children. And many of these poor fellows have been used to butchers' meat every day, and some had laid by a nice bit of money in the bank; but it's all gone now, and it's long enough since they had a taste of meat. There's that Watson that lives underneath me; there isn't a steadier, better-living man in all the place. He's worked at the big mill, just over the bridge, ever since I knew him, and most of his children worked there too; and no man could live more comfortable.

And now, ever since the mill was closed, he hasn't earned a farthing. All his savings are gone for food; and he's been obliged to sell his books that he was so fond of, and his clock, and most of his furniture, and now the place is almost bare; and to my certain knowledge they've sometimes been almost starved, for they've had nothing but the relief, and that's hardly enough to keep body and soul together."

"I dare say you've given 'em a help sometimes, Joe."

"I don't say anything about that; but I know it's what we ought to do. I know what my Bible says about that. And if we about that. And if we can't give up a little to help poor, starving folk, I don't think we've read the Bible to much purpose. You know, Jem, it's easy to give away what we don't want; but we must do more than that. Come, man, smoke your pipe out if you like, and then have done with it. Let you and I have no more tobacco as long as this goes

worse ploughs than this are still used in the East: very often they are nothing more than a branch of a tree, with a projecting limb, which is cut short and pointed with iron, and which does little more than scratch the surface of the ground.

ANCIENT PLOUGH AND MATTOCK.

In our own country very bad ploughs were used for a long time. In the days of Queen Elizabeth the farmers of the midland counties, though they had different ploughs for different soils, used them with but one handle. It was not till the year 1730 that any great improvement was made in English ploughs. In that year a patent was taken out for a plough made in Yorkshire, which is still known as the Rotherham plough, and which was much better than any that had been used in this country before: it is well known, however, that the maker of the Rotherham plough borrowed his improvements from the Dutch.

From the time when this plough came into use, farmers paid more attention to their agricultural implements, and improvements were more rapid. The man who made the first inventions of real importance, as regards the perfecting of the plough, was a man in very humble life, who had worked on a small farm, in every branch of labour, from his boyhood. His name was James Small, and he was the son of a Scotch farmer in the county of Berwick. As he seemed to be a clever lad, and handy with tools, his father apprenticed him to a carpenter living at Hutton, in the same county. When his apprenticeship was done, James went to England, and got employment at Doncaster under a maker of wagons and carts. remained five years in England, working hard and improving himself as much as he could. He then went back to his native district, and settled at Blackadder, where he set up his workshop, and made all kinds of farming tools. At the same time he began a course of experiments upon different kinds of soil, with a view to make a plough that should do the work better than it was done by the ploughs then in use.

He

After a good many trials and disappointments, Small succeeded at last in his object. He made a plough so much stronger, lighter, and easier of draught than the old ones were, that it would do the same work with half the number of horses or oxen to draw it, and would do it, too, with much less labour to the men. All the ploughmen in the neighbourhood were astonished and delighted with the new invention; and they were so eager to have it, that many of them offered to find

the wood-work at their own charge if their masters would supply the remaining parts.

A very important part of the plough is that called the mould-board, the use of which is to turn over the earth as it is cut by the share, so as to leave a regular furrow. This was at first made of wood, and it had to be of different shapes in different soils; but Small made it of cast-iron, and he invented a plan for finding out of what shape it ought to be for any particular soil, and in this way he was enabled to suit any farmer with just the kind of plough best fitted for his land.

In making his farming implements, Small was careful to put the best work in them, at whatever cost; and if there was a flaw or fault in one of them when finished, he would break it up at once, and suffer the loss, rather than let a farmer have it. His character for good work was so well known, that his name on a tool of any kind was accounted a guarantee that it was of the best sort.

James Small died in 1793, in the fiftythird year of his age. third year of his age. He did not acquire wealth; all his life long he had a higher object in view than that: he loved his work, and found his reward in increasing the agricultural resources of his country. Since his

death agriculture has advanced to the rank of a science, and all kinds of implements are now made almost in perfection; but to Small belongs the honour of taking the first step in the career of progross.

He is a good example to show what a mere working man in humble life may do to benefit himself and others by using his mind, by industry, and by honest dealing. Let every working man. Let every working man or woman who reads this strive to follow the example, not forgetting to seek help from God in the

name of our Lord Jesus Christ. With God's blessing, and a believing, loving heart, all is well, both for this life and that to come.

"JUNE IN JANUARY!"

THERE is an old story about a magician,

who engaged to conjure up summer sunshine and summer flowers in the depth of winter's cold and frost. "In fact," said the conjurer, "you shall see June in January." Either this was a fable, or the man was a cheat. But, after another manner, and without trick or deceit, there certainly is a way of doing something very like turning January into June.

I will tell you how. Cultivate a sweet and cheerful temper. It is like sunshine in every home. It brings a warmth and glow, like June itself, to the very heart of January.

No doubt there is a great natural difference in temper. Some people seem born with a bad temper, and some with a good. But we have sometimes seen the worst become the best, by God's help and man's endeavour; and, alas! we have also seen some of the best become the worst, through unwatchfulness, and forgetfulness of God. Every time we give way to a bad temper, the enemy grows stronger. Every time we subdue or control it, it grows weaker, and difficulties lessen. If cross and fretful feelings are kept to ourselves, and not put into cross and fretful words, it is wonderful how soon they melt away, and bleak January breaks into a smile like sunny June. A cheerful temper lightens the cares of life, and inspires hope in the midst of trouble.

Another point to keep in mind for turning January into June, is to have sympathy with others. The fact of our having to bear a heavy burden of our own is no reason why we should not share a neighbour's. It surely eases our aching heart, and it helps a weary

THE SABBATH.

"This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."-PSALM CXVIII. 24.

DEAR is the hallowed morn to me, When village bells awake the day, And by their sacred minstrelsy Call me from earthly cares away.

And dear to me the wingèd hour Spent in thy hallowed courts, O Lord, To feel devotion's soothing power, And catch the manna of thy word.

And dear to me the loud Amen
Which echoes through the blest abode,
Which swells, and sinks, and swells again,
Dies on the walls, but lives to God.

And dear the simple melody,
Sung with the pomp of rustic art;
That holy, heavenly harmony,
The music of a thankful heart.

In secret I have often prayed,
And still the anxious tear would fall;
But, on the sacred altar laid,
The fire descends, and dries them all.

Oft when the world with iron hands
Has bound me in its six days' chain,
This bursts them, like the strong man's bands,
And lets my spirit loose again.

Then dear to me the Sabbath morn, The village bells, the shepherd's voice: These oft have found my heart forlorn, And always bid that heart rejoice.

Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre, Of broken Sabbaths sing the charms: Ours are the prophet's car of fire Which bears us to a Father's arms.

CUNNINGHAM.

AARON BOND.

T was the last day of the old year, which There was fading away, dim and sullen.

now, gone to Hilton with some work she had finished, that she might have the money and do the best she could with it for Aaron. I am afraid that many of us, if we had been in Bond's place, would have murmured a good deal; but Aaron did not complain, and when his wife, who was not half so patient, began to grumble at their poverty and distress, he would chide her gently, and remind her that they had no right to quarrel with God's dealings, that they were in his hands, and that whatever he ordained for them would be sure to be the best thing.

As Aaron looked through the casement out on the gloomy landscape, he saw broad flakes of snow beginning to fall, and very soon they covered the ground with a white mantle, and clothed the bare branches of the trees, making every small spray stand out distinct against the dark sky. He knew that Rebecca would be home as soon as she could, but he could not help wishing she was come, and kept his eyes fixed on the winding path until the snow had covered it up and he could see it no longer. Just then he saw a figure coming along towards his cottage: it was not his wife, for the figure was in black, and Rebecca had gone out in her red cloak. Presently he saw that it was widow Conway, the schoolmistress; and then said. Aaron to himself, "She is coming to see how I am getting on, and say a kind word or two;" and he went and stirred up the fire, expecting every moment that she would lift the latch. But though he heard the gardenwicket creak, and then some footsteps on the gravel without, yet no one came in, and when he looked out of the window again, there was the schoolmistress walking slowly away, not towards the school-house, but back by the path she had come.

Not long after this Becky came in, her basket safely tucked in under her cloak, on which the snow lay in great lumps. She had brought some tea and butter, and a loaf of bread, and as the kettle was ready boiling, she soon had the meal ready for her husband. For herself, she was neither cold nor hungry, she said, having had tea at sister Grimes', at Hilton, and quite warmed herself with her walk. "Now you make a good tea, Airy," she added, "while I go and sweep away the snow, which is drifting under the door, and contrive something to keep it out of the house at night. I must do it at once, or else it will be

All

Aaron went on with his meal as she bade him, for he was glad of the cup of tea, which always seemed to refresh him. Very soon he heard her sweeping away as fast as she could, and then rattling with the shovel. at once however she stopped, and the next moment she came running in with something in her hand and almost out of breath with excitement. "Oh, Airy, lad!" she cried, "we shall be all right now, I do think. Just let me light a candle first, and then you shall see what I've found." In her hurry she forgot to be tidy, and pushing the candle between the bars of the grate soon had it lighted. Then she held it up quickly to examine her prize.

was no sun to be seen, nor the slightest patch of blue sky, nor even anything so cheerful as a white cloud-nothing but a dark, lead-getting dark." coloured mist, which covered the whole horizon. Aaron Bond sat alone in his cottage by the side of his blinking fire, trying to keep himself as warm as he could, and to exercise patience and resignation under the affliction which had befallen him. For it was a troublous time with poor Aaron. Last fall he had undertaken a tough job at ditching and draining for Farmer Crabb, in Dunsey Hollow, and having been out of work since harvest, and fallen behind with his rent, he had over-worked himself, and caught a sad chill, which laid him up. He was getting better now, little by little, and the doctor said if he took plenty of nourishing things he would soon get well. But the nourishing things were not so easy to get when there was no money coming in except what his wife Becky Bond could earn with her needle. Becky was away

"It's gold," she cried; "it's a gold sovereign as sure as I'm alive. Oh, Airy dear! you shall have such good things now to make