ONCE a Sabbath-school teacher remarked that he who buys the truth makes a good bargain; and inquired if any scholar recollected an instance in Scripture of a bad bargain.

"I do," replied a boy. "Esau made a bad bargain when he sold his birthright for a mess of pottage.'

A second one said: "Judas made a bad bargain when he sold his Lord for thirty pieces of silver."

A third boy observed: Our Lord tells us that he makes a bad bargain, who, to gain the whole world, loses his own life."

I have seen a good many boys in my time who have made bad bargains. Some change the Sunday-school for the street, and home for wicked company, and the Bible for bad books, and health for tobacco. They always get the worst of it. Boys, look out for these bad bargains.

NO MAN CARED FOR MY SOUL.

WHILE waiting for the train, my sister and I walked upon the platform. We were presently joined by an elderly gentleman, with whom we were slightly acquainted. After a few cursory remarks, as the conversation turned upon the sustaining power of God, our companion related the following incident: "Some time since, I was travelling in Switzerland. On the close of a brilliant day, I was anxious to see the last rays of the setting sun. I mounted a hill, and, struck with admiration at the glorious colouring around me, I longed for a companion to unite with me in praising the Sun of Righteousness, thus visible in the beauties of creation. A distant whistle from a peasant, returning to his home, quickened my steps, but his speed far exceeded mine, and he was quickly out of sight. As I descended the height I walked close to a hedge which bordered a deep ravine. The sound of voices from beneath arrested my attention; and, looking through the bushes, I beheld a body of men, wearing the appearance of banditti, at their evening meal. Here, I thought, is an opportunity of making known the plan of salvation; but my timid bashful nature suggested the temerity of such an effort. One so totally defenceless as I was could not be called upon to face such a gang; so I moved on slowly, still listening to their rough language. Dissatisfied with my own cowardice, I went near an opening in the hedge to take another view; my foot trod upon unsafe ground, and I came down with the crumbling earth into the midst of the dreaded party.

"A booty! A booty!' shouted the marauders. With a strength not my own, I echoed, with an undaunted voice, 'A booty! A booty! such as you have never received before!' An unpleasant expression passed over their faces. I heeded it not, feeling assured I was God's ambassador. 'Yes,' I exclaimed, I bring you good news, glorious news, of a powerful Friend, who is able and willing to save both body and soul.' A tall, dark-featured man took up my words. Save my soul! No one has ever cared for my soul; I have been a cast-away from my birth.' Opening my pocket Bible, I repeated from memory (for there was no other light but such as the starry firmament gave), suitable invitations, exhortations, and promises. Oh! how quick and powerful is the Word of God, discerning the thoughts and intents of the heart-imparting light, life, and hope! Finding the attention of my hearers riveted, I concluded with this verse; This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ came into the world to save sinners.'

MARKET-DAY IN BRITTANY.

With heartfelt pleasure I heard a union of voices cry out, 'Let us shake hands upon that!' Let us also,' I said, 'go to the Fountain of all strength, and ask God to confirm our resolutions.' They unanimously knelt down under the blue vault of heaven. Upon rising the dark-featured man begged a favour of me. • Will you give me your Bible?' "Will you promise,' I asked, to read it with prayer?' 'I will' he answered.

"Three years after this interview I was accosted by a respectable-looking man in Piccadilly. Excuse the liberty of the inquiry, sir. Have you visited such a canton in Switzerland, in such a year? And do you recognize this book?' producing from his pocket my well-worn Bible. Answering in the affirmative, he then grasped my hand, and said, 'This gift has been blessed to my soul; and often have I prayed that I might meet you on earth to thank you for this inestimable boon.'" After thanking our companion for this interesting account, we hastily took leave to secure places in the train.

MARKET-DAY IN BRITTANY.

NEXT day was market-day. It was touching to hear the clattering of sabots on the cathedral pavement, and see, one after another, some rough-looking, long-haired peasant farmers or market women deposit their huge baskets on the floor, and, meekly kneeling on their knees, pray reverently to their favourite saint. There is evidently fervent piety here, in spite of what I heard the other day from a landed proprietor of La Vendee. "The French peasants are no longer what they were," he said to me. The Vendeans are now as ardent Republicans as before they were Royalists, and they distrust and dislike the priests." But in Brittany changes work slowly, and nowhere else do you see so many priests, nuns, churches and religious institutions. The market-place was an animating sight. So crowded were the halles with vendors of eggs, poultry, butter, vegetables, flour, fish, &c., that I could hardly get from one end to the other. Corn, flour, and other country produce are here brought to market and sold in small quantities, much talking and banter going on all the time. Anything less like an English market-day cannot be conceived. Here were costumes from all parts; the blue vests and jackets of the men, braided with gold, blue trousers, and broad felt hats with hanging ends predominating. Some of the women wore high coal-scuttle shaped Lats of white muslin with flying ends, pretty ruffs round the neck,

CANINE SAGACITY.

breastplates bordered with gold braid, black dresses, white chemisettes, and gay violet, red, or even orange aprons. The true Breton breek or brogue is getting rarer and rarer, and is seldom seen even on the very old men; but it will be long before uniformity in costume reigns here. Many articles of wearing apparel, notably those gaily embroidered vests both of men and women, were exposed for sale in the square behind the cathedral. Of sabots there was a goodly display; also of those comfortable and even elegant white flannel hoods worn by the women in bad weather. The younger women wore the prettiest semi-Elizabethan frill, so arranged as to be very high and full at the back, and displaying the front of the throat. Quimper is noted for its pottery, and a gayer display cannot be imagined than the piles of plates and dishes, all painted by hand, with native designs of birds and flowers in bright colours. These are sold at a penny, or twopence apiece, yet a skilful artist may gain five francs a day by this rustic art. When a shower of rain came on, red, blue, and green umbrellas were spread, the women put on cloaks and hoods, the men coats of sheep or goat skin, and business went on as usual. -Frazer's Magazine.

CANINE SAGACITY.

A GENTLEMAN of wealth and position in London had, some years ago, a country house and farm about sixty miles from the metropolis. At this country residence he kept a number of dogs, and among them a very large mastiff and a Scotch terrier; and at the close of one of his summer residences in the country, he resolved to bring this terrier with him to London for the winter season. There being no railway to that particular part of the country the dog travelled with the servants in a post-carriage, and on his arrival at the town-house was brought out to the stable, where a large Newfoundland dog was kept as a watch-dog. This latter individual looked with anything but pleasure on the arrival of the little intruder from the country; and consequently the Scotch terrier had not been very long in his new home when this canine master of the stable attacked him, and, in the language of human beings, gave him a sound thrashing. The little animal could, of course, never hope by himself to chastise his host for this inhospitable welcome, but he determined that by some agency chastisement should come. Accordingly, he lay very quiet that night in a remote corner of the stable, but when morning had fully

TURKISH HOWLING DERVISES.

shone forth he was nowhere to be found. Search was made for him, as the phrase says, high and low, but without success, and the conclusion reluctantly arrived at was, that he had been stolen. On the third morning after his disappearance, however, he again showed himself in London, but this time not alone; for, to the amazement of every one, he entered the stable attended by the big mastiff from Kent. This great brute had no sooner arrived than he flew at the Newfoundland dog, who had so badly treated his little terrier friend, and a severe contest ensued, which the little terrier himself, seated at a short distance, viewed with the utmost dignity and satisfaction. The result of the battle was that the mastiff came off the conquerer, and gave his opponent a tremendous beating. When he had quite satisfied himself as to the result, the great avenger from Kent scarcely waited to receive the recognition of the master, who had been sent for immediately on the dog's arrival, but at once marched out of the stable, to the door of which the little terrier accompanied him, and was seen no more. Some few days afterward, however, the gentleman received a letter from his steward in the country informing him of the sudden appearance of the terrier there, and his as sudden disappearance along with the large mastiff; and stating that the latter had remained away three or four days, during which they had searched in vain for him, but had just then returned home again. It then, of course, became quite clear that the little dog, finding himself unable to punish the town bully, had thought of his "big brother" in the country, had travelled over the sixty miles which separated them in order to gain his assistance, and had recounted to him his grievance; it was plain also that the mastiff had consented to come and avenge his old friend, had travelled with him to London, and having fulfilled his promise, had returned home, leaving the little fellow free from annoyance for the future.

TURKISH HOWLING DERVISES.

THE achievements of the dancing dervises are, however, mere child's play to the howling ones, I am told; so on Friday I take a caique, and am pulled over to Scutari, where the howling_dervises' monastery is. Their room is not so comfortable or so large as that of the Pera dervises. It is more confined, and not so well kept up. As in the Pera room, I make my way into a gallery, and leaning over, look down on the performers. They are a different set to the spinners, more weird-looking, more haggard,