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ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

Poetry.

MY LORD'S CHOICE.

THIS work, dear Lord, is not the work
I asked, or sought, or meant to do;
I thought to turn my busy hands

Where heart and taste should follow too.
But such sweet task, dear heavenly Lord,
Thou hast removed beyond my hand,
And set me one so different,

That, shrinking and amazed, I stand.
Oh! grant me grace, lest in my grief
My hands hang listless at my side,
Refusing Thee their patient toil,

Because their choice has been denied.
Grace, that my heaven-appointed task
The cheerful, tireless care may meet
Which my self-chosen task had met,
Hadst Thou but set that duty sweet.
I cannot cease to long for it;

But I can bold to my great will
My longings subject, while I bend
My strange task faithfully to fill;

Not feeling that I have no choice,

But willing that my Lord should choose;

So glad of any work for Him,

That, in His will, my will I loose.

Anecdotes and Selections.

HOPE." We are saved by hope," says the apostle; and there is a sense in which it is true of us all-we are saved by hope before we are saved by faith. The hope of mercy is in itself a thing in which the good Lord "taketh pleasure." The hope of Christ is a staff in the hand of the weary, before the arm of Christ is stretched out on which he may be privileged to lean. Hope is a marvellous inspiration, which every heart confesses in some season of extremest peril. It can put nerve into the languid, and fleetness into the feet of exhaustion. Let the slim and feathery palm grove be dimly described, though ever so remotely, and the caravan will on-spite of the fatigue of the traveller, and the simoom's-to where, by the fringy rootlets, the desert-waters flow. Let there glimmer one star through the murky waste of night, and though the spars be shattered and the sails be riven, and the hurricane howls for its prey, the brave sailor will be lashed to the helm, and see already, through the tempest's breaking, calm waters and spotless sky. Let there be but the faintest intimation that all is not utterly hopeless, "when the grave and skilled physician by the trembling

ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

patient stands," and anxious love will redouble its watching, and feel as if new feet had been given to the leaden hours; and the blood, which had begun to curdle, as if in sympathy with the dying, will flutter itself loose again into thankful and regular flow. Oh, who is there, however hapless his lot, or forlorn his surroundings, who is beyond the influence of this choicest of earth's comforters-this faithful friend which survives the flight of riches, and the wreck of reputation, and the break of health, and e'en the loss of dear and cherished friends? My brethren, I would fain rouse you all to the exercise of this your undoubted privilege in those higher matters which are between yourselves and God.-Rev. W. M. Punshon, D.D.

THE SILVER BELLS.-In Eastern poetry they tell of a wondrous tree, on which grew golden apples and silver bells; and every time the breeze went by and tossed the fragrant branches, a shower of these golden apples fell, and the living bells chimed and tinkled forth their airy ravishment. On the gospel tree there grow melodious blossoms; sweeter bells than those which mingle with the pomegranates on Aaron's vest; holy feelings, heaven-taught joys; and when the wind bloweth where it listeth, the south wind waking, when the Holy Spirit breathes upon that soul, there is the shaking down of mellow fruits, and the flow of healthy odours all around, and the gush of sweetest music, where gentle tones and joyful echoings are wafted through the recesses of the soul. Not easily explained to others, and too ethereal to define, these joys are on that account but the more delightful. The sweet sense of forgiveness; the conscious exercise of all the devout affections, and grateful and adoring emotions Godward; the lull of sinful passions, itself ecstatic music; an exulting sense of the security of the well-ordered covenant; the gladness of surety, righteousness, and the kind spirit of adoption, encouraging to say, "Abba, Father;" all the delightful feeling which the Spirit of God increases or creates, and which are summed up in that comprehensive word, "Joy in the Holy Ghost."-Dr. James Hamilton.

If a

THE BIBLE.-The Bible in the hands of the controversialist becomes a magazine of artillery; in the hands of an antiquarian, a curious museum of odds and bits; but in the hands of an honest seeker after truth and righteousness, it is a book that teaches how to live a perfect life, that he may be "thoroughly furnished unto all good works." man wants to know how to be better, if he hungers and thirsts for knowledge in righteousness, he will find in it ample instruction. If a man will put in his left hand vest pocket the Proverbs of Solomon, he will know more in his pocket than most men do in their heads through all the days of their life about wisdom in worldly affairs; and if he will put the 13th Chapter of 1st Corinthians in the other pocket, he will carry more profound wisdon of love in his pocket than men usually do in their hearts.

ENGLISH LAVENDER FIELDS.-The rose-gardens of France are celebrated. Acres and acres of roses bloom in them for the perfumer. Heliotrope, Mignonette, and other floral plants are also found side by

THE FIRESIDE.

side with them in dense masses. The air is heavy with almost sickening fragrance; and for miles around the breezes bear the sweet tidings that they "have flown o'er the gardens of Gul in their bloom." But who has heard of an English lavender field? Few, certainly, in this country. Within thirty miles of London these lavender fields have become an extensive and recognized industry. There is annually produced, in England alone, sufficient oil from the plant to manufacture 30,000 gallons of spirits of lavender, besides a large quantity, the total of which is unknown, to be used in the production of other perfumes, with more pretentious names. This plant is at the best when between three and seven years of age. The harvest time is the first week in August. The flowers are then cut and taken to the distillery, followed by an innumerable number of bees, which insects are especially fond of them. Here the essential oil is pressed out and is ready to be mixed with the proper ingredients to make lavender water.

DR. ARNOLD AND SIR WALTER SCOTT.-Dr. Arnold of Rugby School, though usually patient, once spoke sharply to a dull boy, who replied: Why do you speak angrily, sir? Indeed, I am doing the best I can. 99 Dr. Arnold said he never so felt a rebuke in his life. Teachers are apt to become impatient over dull scholars, and predict of them that they will never come to anything. Such uncalled for prophecies ought to discourage no scholar who tries to do well. A certain Edinburgh professor once pronounced upon a student his severe opinion: "Dunce you are, and dunce you will ever remain !" That student was Sir Walter Scott.

The Fireside.

GIVE YOURSELF.

SAID a mother to me one day: "When my children were young I thought the very best thing I could do for them was to give them myself. So I spared no pains to talk with them, to teach them, to read to them, to pray with them, to be a loving companion and friend to my children. I had to neglect my house many times; I had no time to indulge myself in many things which I should have liked to do. I was so busy adorning their minds, and cultivating their hearts' best affections, that I could not adorn their bodies in fine clothes, though I kept them neat and comfortable at all times. I have my reward now. My sons are ministers of the gospel, my grown-up daughter a lovely Christian woman. I have plenty of time to sit down now and rest, plenty of time to keep my house in perfect order, plenty of time to indulge myself in many ways, besides going about my Master's business whenever He has need of me. I have a thousand beautiful memories of their childhood to comfort me. Now that they have gone out into the world, I have the sweet consciousness of having done all I could to make them ready for whatever work God calls them to do. I gave them the best I could,-myself."

THE PENNY POST BOX.-FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

The Penny Post Box.

HEALTH NEVERS.

NEVER eat in a hurry, because it causes indigestion.
Never speak in a hurry, because it is ominous of instability.
Never think on going to bed, because it makes wakefulness.
Never eat beween meals, because it produces irritation.

Never dine in excitement, because the blood is called to the brain which ought to go aid indigestion.

Facts, Hints, Gems, and Poetry.

Facts.

The British government has spent about seventeen million pounds in irrigation works in India.

A California man has cleared six thousand dollars this year from eight acres of blackberries.

California produces the largest barley crop, or 8,783,490 out of a total of 9,822,721 bushels.

Bavaria, a country of 5,000,000 inhabitants, has 26 agricultural colleges, 269 associations for the advancement of agricultural scientific knowledge, and the celebrated polytechnic school at Munich contains a separate branch for higher agricultural instruction.

A discovery has been made in the convent of Santa Maria la Nuova, at Rome, which formerly belonged to the Franciscan monks. It consists in three underground cells, accessible only through a hidden trap-door, and where monks guilty of grave offences were probably put. In the first there is a little light, through an opening in the wall; the second is narrower and darker; the third is without a ray of light, and is a dismal hole. Sinister and almost obliterated inscriptions cover the walls, and numerous instruments of torture, as well as human bones, were found.

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into a palace for a king.-Spurgeon. The clay of the pit may yet be built

To scold people when they make confessions is the way to keep them from confessing again.

Strength is seen not in spasms, but in stout bearings of burdens.

All that is wise has been thought already; we must try, however, to think it again.-Goethe.

Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.-Solomon.

Mean spirits under disappointment, like small beer in a thunder storm, always turn sour.-Randolph.

The old proverb about too many irons in the fire is abominably false. Have all in, shovel, tongs, and poker. -Adam Clark.

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POETIC SELECTIONS.-THE CHILDRENS' CORNER.

Old boys have their playthings as well as young ones; the difference is only in price.

A man may as well expect to grow stronger by always eating, as wiser by always reading.-Collier.

It is common to men to err; but it is only a fool that perseveres in his error; a wise man, therefore, alters his opinion, a fool never.

Every human being is intended to have a character of his own, to be what no other is, to do what no other can do.-Channing.

A man can give the world only what he has, and all that a man has he must get by experience.-Rev. Dr. Deems.

Poetic Selections.

THE WISH OF TO-DAY.

I ASK not now for gold to gild
With mocking shine a weary frame,
The yearning of the mind is stilled,-
I ask not now for fame.

A rose cloud dimly seen above,

Meeting in heaven's blue depths away.Oh, sweet, fond dream of human love! For thee I may not pray.

But, bowed in loneliness of mind,

I make my humble wishes known, I only ask a will resigned,

O, father, to thine own!

To-day, beneath thy chastening eye,
I crave alone for peace and rest,
Submissive in thy hand to lie,
And feel that it is best.

A marvel seems the universe,
A miracle our life and death;
A mystery which I cannot pierce,
Around, above, beneath.

In vain I task my aching brain,
In vain the sage's thought I scan,
I only feel how weak and vain,
How poor and blind, is man.

And, now my spirit sighs for home,

And longs for light whereby to see, And like a weary child, would come, O Father, unto Thee!

Though oft on letters traced on sand
In mercy lend a helping hand,
My weak resolves have passed away,

Unto my prayer to-day.-Whittier,

HEAVY LADEN.

My grief is sore, but not for love of thine,
My thirst is not to sip of earthly wine,
Not to be fed with earthly food I pine;
My hunger is for bread which Jesus breaks,
My thirst is for that well which all thirst
slakes,

I'm dying for that blood shed for our sakes
On Calvary.

I faint, but not for want of thy strong arm My aching heart thou couldst not soothe or charm,

For wounds that sin hath made, there's but one balm.

While pardoning love I miss I dare not rest, Nor dare I hope that I may be so blessed As to receive with joy Him as my guest Whom I have slain.

I call and knock, I knock and call again,
And still my strained ear listens all in vain
To hear the loving voice of Christ the slain.
Tell me, my friend, if I, all steeped in sin,
May yet be in His precious blood made clean.
Will He bring forth a robe to clothe me in,
And shoe my feet?

Or can it be that I have come too late.
I could not murmur-mine is sin so great,-
If closed to me for ever were the gate.
O Christ! I cannot, must not cease to pray,
Help me to find Thee, true and living way,
Forgive my sins. Oh! take my guilt away,
Make clean my heart.

The Childrens' Corner.

ROOM IN HEAVEN.

A LITTLE child was dying, and called her mother to her bedside. She had a cross and unsympathetic parent. "Mother," said the child, "is their room for me in heaven? You always said I was in the way here. Will I be in the way there?"

And the poor mother wept bitter tears as she said, "Yes, there will be room for you there."

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WINKS AND SON, PRINTERS, LEICESTER.

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