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health. To invalids I will make allowance, though even they would commonly suffer by no exposure incident to their attendance. There is no such poison in wet and cold, as many love to suppose; and if we were not so self-indulgent, so ready to shrink from the rough moods of nature, we should have clearer minds and stronger bodies. The worst and most dangerous poison is confinement, and the pent air that simmers all the day in heated rooms, unchanged."

THE YOUNGEST.

"I rocked her in her cradle,

And laid her in her tomb;

She was the youngest-oh! what fireside circle
Hath never felt the charm of that sweet word-
The youngest ne'er grow old?"

Ir was twilight, and I sat watching the decaying embers, when my attention was arrested by the sound of voices in the adjoining apartment. I heard nothing except, Ah! you are the youngest!" in a tone of mingled reproach and fondness. The youngest ! what an echo has it awakened!

I lately heard those words connected with a touching tale of truth, which I shall not soon forget. I was riding along the bank of a lake, when I suddenly came upon a farm-house, with nothing in its first appearance to distinguish it from an ordinary dwelling. But as I drew nearer, I saw that the hand of taste had been there. The most delicate wild flowers of the surrounding hills and forests had been transplanted to the garden, which sloped gradually from the house to the water's edge. The colours and shades were arranged with a painter's taste, and the effect was surpassingly beautiful. By the doors and windows of the humble mansion, the sweet brier and the pure white rose mingled their delicate blossoms with wild creeping plants, which had been trained up the sides of the house. My curiosity was strongly excited. The day was warm and sultry, and I ventured to claim a stranger's privilege-rest and a glass of water. An elderly female was the only occupant. I ventured to remark, in an inquiring tone, on the beauty and arrangement of the flowers; but for a while tears were my only answer. "Oh," said she at last, "it is the work of my daughter who sleeps by the side of her two sisters under the shade of those old elms. She was my youngest, and so good and gentle that it was hard parting with her. Her elder sisters had drooped and wasted just as they arrived at womanhood. I thought perhaps they had worked too hard, for we have always earned our bread by the sweat of our brow, and never knew what it was to be idle. Janet was the last, so we put no tasks upon her, but suffered her to work or play, just as she pleased. Our boys were all well to do in the world, and had good farms of their own, except John, who

must needs go to college. He talked so well, and coaxed so much, and told how much good he would do when he became a minister, that we at last consented. John came home in vacation, and brought several heaps of books. Her chief happiness seemed to be in reading the books he brought, and tending the flowers he had planted. After some time, I saw with many a heart-ache that her forehead and ears grew pale, very pale, while the red on her. cheeks grew deeper and brighter. She began to have a slight cough, and her clear voice became faint and low; but, oh! how sweet it' sounded when she took some of the last flowers of autumn, and told me how they spoke of a' heavenly Father's love, and that he who thus cared for the flowers would surely care for us. See, dear mother,' she would say, 'how carefully the little flower is protected by its clasping leaves, so that it has braved the storm, as tender and delicate as it looks. God has taken care of it, and he will take care of you,' and her voice faltered when she added, even if you were left alone.' It was the first time she had spoken of what I feared, yet dared not whisper even to myself. I wept bitterly, and told her, selfish that I was, for I saw that this dark world was as a prison to her, that she must not die. And then she put her arms around my neck, and talked to me of heaven, and how sweet it would be to be there with Ágnes and Mary and her little brother, and how soon I, too, should be there with them, till I wept no more, and only longed to go with my blessed child.

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"We still thought she might live many months, and she talked cheerfully of the happiness she would enjoy when John came home in his winter's vacation. But all at once she grew very sick; and the doctor said she could not live three days. I told her the heavy tidings, for her poor father was broken down with this last trouble, and could not speak of it. So soon!' said she; but after a moment's pause, she added, clasping her thin hands, and looking upwards, Thy will be done!' But, John-you must send for him.' I told her he was so far off it would be more than a week before we! could get him here. "No matter for that; dear, dear mother, do send for him.' We sent, and every day she grew weaker and her breath grew fainter. But how sweetly even then did she talk of heaven and of a Saviour's love! Almost every hour she would ask, ' Has John come yet!" At length the seventh day came. It was the Sabbath, and one of the brightest of early winter mornings. She roused from a deep lethargy, which we had thought would prove her last sleep, and asked me to give her a rose-bud from the bush which stands there in that window. Just then we heard the sound of a horse's hoofs; he had come! But I cannot tell you of their meeting. My eyes were too blinded with tears to see it, and my heart too full to remember much. I only remember that in a few moments

GOOD FRIDAY IN PERU.

585

still kept up, and all the efforts of enlightened priests to suppress them have been frustrated by the tenacity and threats of the Indians. Dr. Tschudi gives an extraordinary description of the celebration of Good Friday. "From an early dawn," he says, "the church is crammed with Indians, who pass the morn

she showed him the rose-bud, and told him her lot was like that of the flower. But he told her no; the flower perished, but she would bloom again in heaven, where nothing is ever blighted or withered more. She thanked him fervently, and in the clear musical voice of her brightesting in fasting and prayer. At two in the afternoon a days, for all his love to her-for his patient teaching-for instructing her to see a Father's hand in the trees and flowers, in the sunshine and the storm. And more than all, my brother, I bless you for pointing me to a Saviour's love -for leading my wandering, exiled soul to Calvary. I shall now soon be with him. Kneel, my brother, and commend my departing soul to him.' We all knelt by the bed-side, and my poor boy, with her thin, wasted hand clasped in his, in a few broken petitions implored the blessed Saviour to be with her where the love of earthly friends could avail nothing--in her passage through the dark valley. When we rose, her eyes were closed, and a sweet smile played upon her lips. We thought she slept, but it was the sleep of death. She had gone to heaven!"-Christian Parlour Magazine.

THE BOY'S LAST BEQUEST.

HALF RAISED upon the dying couch, his hand
Drooped on his mother's bosom, like a bud
Which, broken from its parent stalk, adheres
By some attenuated fibre. His thin hand
From 'neath the downy pillow drew a book,
And slowly pressed it to his bloodless lips:

Mother, dear mother, see your birth-day gift,
Fresh and unsoiled. Yet have I kept your word,
And ere I slept each night, and every morn,
Did read its pages, with my simple prayer,
Until this sickness came,"

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He paused, for breath

Came scantily, and with toilsome strife.

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Brother or sister have I none, or else

I'd lay this Bible on their heart, and say,
Come read it on my grave, among the flowers.
So you who gave must take it back again,
And love it for my sake."

"My son! My son!"
Whispered the mourner in that tender tone
Which woman in her sternest agony
Commands, to soothe the pang of those she loves.
"The soul! the soul! to whose charge yield you that?"
"To God who gave it." So that gentle soul,
With a slight shudder, and a seraph smile,
Left the pale clay for its Creator's arm.

GOOD FRIDAY IN PERU.

S. S. M.

THE dramatic representations of scenes in the life of Christ, introduced by the Spanish monks who accompanied Pizarro, with a view to the easier conversion of the aborigines, have long been discontinued in the larger Peruvian cities. But in the Sierra they are

large image of the Saviour is brought out of the sacristy and laid down near the altar, which is veiled. No sooner does this occur than the whole congregation rush forward and strive to touch the wounds with scraps of cotton, and then ensues a screaming, crowding, fighting, only to be equalled by the uproar at an ill-conducted fair, until the priests at last succeed in restoring order. The figure of the Saviour is now attached to the cross with three very large silver nails, either side are the crosses of the two thieves. The and a rich silver crown is placed upon its head; on Indians gaze their fill and leave the church, but return thither at eight in the evening. The edifice is then brilliantly illuminated, and at the foot of the cross stand, wrapped in white robes, four priests, the santos varones, or holy men, whose office is to take down the body of the Saviour. A short distance off, upon a stage or scaffolding, stands the Virgin Mary, in deep mourning, and with a white cloth around her head. In a long discourse a priest explains the scene to the congregation, and, at the close of his sermon, turning to the santos varones, he says, 'Ye holy men, mount the ladders of the cross, and bring down the body of the dead Saviour!' Two of the priests ascend with hammers, and the preacher continues, Thou holy man on the right side of the Saviour, strike the first blow upon the nail in the hand, and take it out! The hammer falls, and the sound of the blow is the signal for the cry of Misericordia! Misericordia! repeated by thousands of voices in tones of anguish so heart-rending, as to produce a strangely painful impression upon the hearer. The nail is handed to a priest at the foot of the cross, to be taken to the Virgin Mary, still standing upon her scaffold. To her the preacher now addressed himself with the words, Thou afflicted mother, approach and receive the nail that pierced the right hand of thy blessed Son! And as the priest drew near to the image of the Virgin, the latter, moved by a secret mechanism, advances to meet him, receives the nail in both hands, places it in a silver bowl, dries its eyes, and returns to its place. These movements are repeated when the two other nails and the crown are brought down. The whole scene has for accompaniment the unintermitting howling and sobbing of the Indians, which redoubled at each stroke of the hammer, and reaches its apogee when the body is delivered to the Virgin, who then again begins to weep violently. The image of Christ is then laid in a coffin adorned with flowers, and is carried by torch-light through every street in the town. Whilst the procession makes its circuit, the Indians erect twelve arches of flowers in front of the church door, placing between each two of them a carpet of the like materials, the simplest and most beautiful that it is possible to see. Each carpet is manufactured by two Indians, neither of whom seems to trouble himself about the proceedings of his comrade; but yet, with incredible rapidity, and a wonderful harmony of operation, the most tasteful designs grow under their hands in rich variety of colours. Arabesques, landscapes, and animals appear as if by magic. It was highly interesting to me to observe in Tarma, upon one of these carpets, an exact representation of the Austrian double eagle, as the Indians had seen it on the quicksilver jars from Idra. When the procession returns, the Virgin Mary is carried back into the church through the arches of flowers."-Blackwood.

WORDS FOR MINISTERS.

MAKE up your minds deliberately, if you mean to be faithful, to lead a life wherein hardy and venturous faith will be daily tested by calls to unflinching selfdenial. Your one work is to win souls to Christ; not to produce a certain general decency and amendment in the face of society around you, but as God's instrument, and through the power of Christ's name, to work in living souls the mighty marvel of their true conversion. How painfully soever be the thoughts which it excites, never lose sight of this truth, that your ministry has failed as to every soul entrusted to you, who is not under it converted to the Lord, or built up in his holy faith. And such a work must be full of toil and self-denial. The strong man armed will not allow you to spoil his house, and be free the while from molestation. And he is ever ready with his assaults and craft; unless you slumber he will not seem to sleep. Reckon, then, first on opposition. And then, secondly, remember that in all this you will have a real work to do. Let this thought be

I always with you. Go out to visit in your parish, not because you ought to spend so much time in visiting your people, but because they have souls; and you have committed to you (feeble as you are) the task of seeking to save them, in Christ's strength, from everlasting burnings. Be real with them, strike as one that would make a dent upon their shield of hardness, yea, and smite through it to their heart of hearts. When you preach be real. Set your people before you in their numbers, their wants, their dangers, their capacities; choose a subject, not to show yourself off, but to benefit them; and then speak straight to them, as you would beg your life, or counsel your son, or call your dearest friend from a burning house -in plain, strong, earnest words.

than I can.

I am tormented with the desire of preaching better But I have no wish to make fine, pretty sermons. Prettiness is well enough when prettiness is in its place. I like to see a pretty child, a pretty flower; but in a sermon, prettiness is out of place. To my ear it would be any thing but commendation, should it be said to me, "You have given us a pretty sermon." If I were upon trial for my life, and my advocate should amuse the jury with his tropes and figures, burying his argument beneath a profusion of the flowers of rhetoric, I would say to him,-" Tut, man, you care more for your vanity than for my hanging. Put yourself in my place-speak in view of the gallows, and you will tell your story plainly and earnestly." I have no objection to a lady's winding a sword with ribands, and studding it with roses, when she presents it to her hero lover; but in the day of battle he will tear away the ornaments, and use a naked edge to the enemy.-Robert Hall.

There was a husbandman that always sowed good seed, but never had good corn. At last a neighbour came to him and said, "I will tell you what probably may be the cause of it. It may be," said he, "you do not steep your seed!" "No, truly," replied the other; "nor did I ever hear that seed must be steep"Yes, surely," said his neighbour, "and I will tell you how it must be steeped in prayer." When the party heard this, he thanked him for his counsel, reformed his fault, and had as good corn as other persons.

ed."

May not this little anecdote afford a useful hint to those whose office it is to sow the good seed of the divine word! Too frequently it is found that but very little good fruit is produced within the limits of their exertions. What can be the cause? Alas! the seed

which they sow, although of the best quality, even of heavenly origin, is not steeped in prayer. To the want of scrupulously attending to this practice, may be traced that barrenness of our favoured land. Let, then, the spiritual husbandman in future be more diligent in his attention to that important duty, and then may he hope to see the vineyard committed to his care abounding in all the fruits of righteousness. -Flavel's Husbandry.

DAVID, THE MAN AFTER GOD'S OWN HEART.

A few remarks may be useful upon the character of David, especially upon that expression used respecting him, that he was "a man after God's own heart." (1 Sam. xiii. 14.) These words may he considered as describing his character and conduct, in opposition to that of Saul; as one who should act wisely, and obey the commandments of God delivered to him by his prophets; whom, therefore, God would so far approve and continue to favour. Thus the expression is interpreted by Paul in Acts xiii. 22: I have found David, the son of Jesse, a man after mine own heart, which shall execute all my will." By faithfully executing God's orders, and bringing to pass those great events which he was raised up to be the instrument of accomplishing, he thus far acted according to the heart, that is, the purpose and will of God; thereby in this respect he was well pleasing to him. The particular purposes for which God advanced David to the throne, appear to have been-1. That, by his steady adherence to the one true God and the religion which the Lord established by Moses, David might be an illustrious example to all who should reign after him. 2. To save the people out of the hands of the Philistines, and of all their enemies, and to render them a flourishing and happy nation, by the wisdom and justice of his government. All the pleasure of God in these great instances he faithfully performed. He was therefore "a man after God's own heart," in the proper original sense of the expression.

But a more enlarged view may be taken. When we consider the depth of his contrition, the strength of his faith, the fervour of his love, the activity of his obedience, we cannot doubt that in this sense he found favour with God, and was "a man after his own heart."

David's whole character and conduct, with the sad exception which he himself bemoaned with the deepest and most penitential sorrow, is one in which the mind dwells with the highest admiration. The piety of his youth; the nobleness of his spirit; the loftiness and variety of his genius; his valour, conspicuous in an age of great warriors; his kindness of heart and domestic tenderness; his justice as a ruler; his appropriate magnificence as a king; above all, his inflexible adherence to the true worship of God; -all these characteristics are strikingly developed. His latter days were clouded and troubled; which shows the impartiality of God, and his hatred of sin, and the punishment of it in believers. Though David's sin was forgiven as to its eternal consequences, it was followed with most severe chastisements in this life.

With reference to the lamentable fall of David, there are several points worthy of observation-his deep sorrow and anguish of heart on account of his sin; his unreserved confession of his guilt; his deep humiliation before God and man; his respect for his reprover, whom he continued to honour and confide in as long as he lived; and the resignation of his

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE SABBATH.

after life under all the painful chastisements of the Almighty.

Millions have fallen as David did; but how few have ever repented like him! Revolve his whole life before the matter of Uriah, and it is almost one train of wise, generous, pious, and noble conduct. Revolve his whole life from the hour of his guilt, it is little else than one train of humiliation and repentance before God, and this, too, after receiving assurances of pardon from God himself by his prophet; or, if he varied his conduct, it was only from penitence to praise; to turn all his thoughts and attention, to employ his whole heart and soul, to the glory of God, and in the service of God-of that God who pardoned all his sins, and crowned him with mercy and lovingkindness. No wicked person can derive encouragement to sin from the history of David.*

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE SABBATH;

OR,

REASONS FOR THE STOPPAGE OF WORK, AND
RAILWAY AND OTHER TRAFFIC, ON THE FIRST
DAY OF THE WEEK.

I. Because, If one day in seven be thus observed, the services of an assistant or workman cannot be secured, without giving as much for six days' work as will afford support for seven days. Because, Already, the hours of business and labour on the other six days of the week, have, in many instances, been unreasonably extended-so as to produce great oppression and mental and moral degradation; and it is, therefore, the more indispensable to keep the only remaining day entirely free from all encroachment.

Because, The yoke of labour on the day of rest has recently been laid upon many public servants and others in various trades; and to relieve them, great efforts have been made, with some success, and with good hopes of more. But all such efforts would be at once arrested and swept away by the introduction of a general system of Sabbath traffic on Railways.

THEREFORE, The right way to afford proper time to the industrious classes, for Recreation, and for mental and moral culture, isfirst, and above all, to protect the first day of the week from all needless work; and, second, to shorten the times of business and labour on other days, particularly on Saturday afternoon and Monday forenoon, as our ancestors did.

II. Because, The industrious classes in the days of

our ancestors, though poorly paid, firmly demanded the full protection of the Day of Rest to all-as security for the common good; and in this way, preserved their independence, and raised themselves to a very high state in morals and temporal comfort.

Because, Had they consented to a system promoting

work on the Day of Rest, the drudgery of unremitting toil would, long ere now, have been spread through the whole industrious classes; and would have brought them down-through want and competition-to seven days' labour instead of six, for their daily bread.

THEREFORE, It is our duty to transmit these liberties and privileges UNIMPAIRED to the generations following.

III. Because, After numerous cross and connecting Railways are completed, passengers, arriving at From the Paragraph Bible, published by the Religious Tract Society.

587

any one point, will need to be carried forward (at whatever hour), by succeeding trains and other conveyances, as on other days of the week; in the same manner as Passengers were formerly carried forward from the mail-coach in postchaises and otherwise-but to one thousand fold greater extent.

Because, No work creates so much other work or attendance, or tempts so much to other work and attendance, as Passenger traffic-In the first instance, to Railway servants and officers, Public porters, Hack vehicles, and at Hotels, Inns, Taverns, Public-houses, Tea-gardens, &c., &c., &c.; and this leads to the opening of not a few descriptions of Shops and Public Offices-and, thereafter, any tradesman, shopkeeper, manufacturer, or contractor, in any business, who begins to serve the public, by having work done on the Day of Rest, compels others to do the same in self-defence: So that there is no end to the evil, when once begun, as has been lamentably proved by experience in various places in England. Because, REST to all on the first day of the week is attainable; but RECREATION to all in this way is utterly unattainable; the attempt being inevitably attended with a vast and ever spreading amount of drudgery, imposed upon thousands and tens of thousands on the Day of Rest.

THEREFORE, A general system of Railway travelling on what is now the Day of Rest, would in time compel the Industrious Classes to add that day to their days of toil; and enable the rich to add it to their six days of money-making and pleasure-seeking. IV. Because, The effect of the extension of the hours of work, but especially the introduction of hours of work on the Day of Rest, is to lower the rate of all kinds of wages; the adding of one-seventh to the working time, being, in this respect, precisely equivalent to the adding of one-seventh to the working hands. This would make greater cheapness in the labour market; which greater cheapness would be a clear gain to all who do not work for their bread, but would not be a clear gain to those who do work for their bread-the cheapness being produced by the sacrifices of the latter alone that is to say, by giving them less wages for seven days' work than they before got for six days' work.

THEREFORE, However imperceptibly the change might go on, the effect of working on the Day of Rest would be-that the RICH would become RICHER, and the POOR would become POORER, and more oppressed and degraded.

V. Because, Though all masters know, that in the case of quarriers and others who do very heavy work, more work is done in the other six days, by allowing them the Day of Rest; yet this is not the case in lighter work, or in mere attendance of any kind-Because, then the sinking of the health, spirits, mind, and morals, is gradual; and persons who break down are dismissed, and replaced by fresh hands.

Because, Though workmen are at liberty to refuse to work on the Day of Rest, yet thousands and tens of thousands of the poor, in all large cities in this country, live from hand to mouth. Many of these would accept the terms that masters offered them; and masters are permitted to employ any on the Day of Rest, the evil must spread, and these poor or dissipated people, in the midst of the universal and eager competition both of masters and servants, will drag down others to the same level as themselves; and thus,

by the yielding of a few, a whole people may be defrauded of their best privileges. THEREFORE, To make the liberties of all secure, all must be kept free on the Day of Rest; and all should set their faces like a flint against the enslaving of any. AND THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE is -That the commandment "Thou shalt do no manner of work" one day in seven,

CONFERS A RIGHT ON THE WORKING MAN,

which is as essential to his prosperity and independence, as the right conferred by the commandment, "Thou shalt not steal" is to the security and prosperity of the rich. THIS

GREAT RIGHT OF THE WORKING CLASSES

ought to be protected by all the efforts, and by all the safeguards, which protect the right of property itself, and the very first encroachment upon it should be most resolutely repelled.

In a dense and industrious population, the rest of the first day of the week is the grand foundation of individual and family comfort, as well as of civil and religious liberty. The commandment was, indeed, given ere the world was so densely peopled;-But so it is in all things, the precepts of Revelation are fitted to every stage of society.

FAMILY ORDER.

THE following account is given by Milner, of the family order observed by Eleazar, Count of Arian, in the fourteenth century:

"I cannot," said the Count, "allow blasphemy in my house, nor anything, in word or deed, which offends the laws of decorum. Dice, and all games of hazard, are prohibited. Let all persons in my house divert themselves at proper times, but not in a sinful manner. In the morning reading and prayer must be attended to. Let there be constant peace in my family, otherwise two armies are formed under my roof, and the master is devoured by them both. If any difference arise, let not the sun go down on your wrath. We must bear with something if we have to live among mankind. Every evening all the family shall be assembled at a godly conference, in which they shall hear something of God and salvation. Let none be absent on pretence of attending to my affairs. I have no affairs so interesting to me as the salvation of my household. I seriously forbid all injustice which may cloak itself under colour of serving me."

"I WILL MOCK WHEN YOUR FEAR
COMETH."

In his work on the unspeakable loss of the soul, Bunyan writes the following solemn dialogue between God and the lost sinner. After recounting the conduct of the sinner, and his treatment of the great offers of salvation, Bunyan says:-

Of all these things God takes notice, writes them down, and seals them up for the time to come, and will bring them out, and spread them before them, saying, I have called, and you have refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; I have exercised patience, and gentleness, and long-suffering towards you, and in all that time you despised me,

and cast me behind your back; and now the time, and the exercise of my patience, when I waited upon you, and suffered your manners, and did bear_your contempts and scorns, is at an end; wherefore I will now arise, and come forth to the judgment that I have appointed.

But, Lord, saith the sinner, we turn now.

But now, saith God, turning is out of season; the day of my patience is ended.

But, Lord, says the sinner, behold our cries. But you did not, says God, behold nor regard my cries.

But, Lord, saith the sinner, let our beseeching find place in thy compassions.

But, saith God, I also beseeched, and I was not heard.

us.

But, Lord, says the sinner, our sins lie hard upon

But I offered you pardon when time was, says God, and then you did utterly reject it.

But, Lord, says the sinner, let us therefore have it

now.

But now the door is shut, saith God.

And what then? Why, then, by way of retaliation, God will serve them as they have served him; and so the winding up of the whole will be thisthey shall have like for like. Time was when they would have none of him, and now will God have none of them. Time was when they cast God behind their back, and now he will cast away their soul. Time was when they would not heed his calls, and now he will not heed their cries.

A MINISTER'S TIME.

HAVING Some business to transact with a gentleman in the city, I called one day at his counting-house. He begged I would call again, as I had so much more time to spare than he had, who was a man of business. nothing to a clergyman!" said I; "you seem little "An hour is nothing to you," said he. "An hour to understand the nature of our profession. One hour of a clergyman's time, rightly employed, sir, i3 worth more to him than all the gains of your mer chandise."-Cecil.

A GUINEA A-YEAR.

A RICH old gentleman was some years ago called upon by the members of a society which had for its object the spread of the Gospel, and was asked to subscribe to it; he replied, he had been thinking: about it, but would first wish to become acquainted with their plans, and wished them to call again., Some time after they did so; and he told them he had made up his mind to subscribe a guinea a-year, and immediately began to count out upon the table a number of guineas. When he had got to twenty-one, the gentlemen stopped him, and said as their time was rather precious, they should feel obliged if he would give his subscription, that they might go. The old gentleman still continuing to count the guincas out upon the table, they interrupted him a second time, when he simply said, he hoped the gentlemen would suffer him to go on, and on he went till he had counted down eighty guineas. "There, gentlemen," cried the old man, "I promised you a subscription of a guinea a-year; I am eighty years old, and there are the eighty guineas."-Wesleyan Juvenile Offering.

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