THE PENNY POST BOX.

of Paul to the Ephesians," as his punishment for coughing out of season at the table.

The Saturday Review asserts that the poet Cowper was converted by a verse in "the third epistle of Paul to the Romans."

The following paragraph appeared in the New York Herald not five months ago: "There is a story in the Bible which tells us that a certain Philip was recommended to bathe in the Jordan river, and that the great man objected to that obscure lavatory because of the argument that the Euphrates was the nobler torrent of the two.' This is one of the bright authorities which insist that no minister of the gospel must assume to speak of science, since preachers are not instructed thoroughly in the details and the vocabulary.

Colonel Benton, once in the United States Senate, spoke feelingly of the man out of whom our Saviour cast seven devils at one time. And Waddy Thompson, formerly United States minister in Mexico, when describing the hospital he visited in that forlorn country called "The Hospital of Lazarus," said, "the inmates would have rivalled in sores and rags the brother of Martha and Mary."

Lord Kenyon, on the judicial bench, charged a jury thus: "Finally, gentleman, I would call your attention to the example of the Roman Emperor, Julian, who was so distinguished for every Christian virtue that the Scripture called him 'Julian, the apostle.'

The Penny Post Box.

A CONTRADICTION.

As a beliver in our Lord Jesus Christ, you stand publicly pledged to keep the peace. The world has no faith in a quarrelsome Christian. The name is a contradiction. You are a disciple of the Prince of Peace, and are expected to embody the principles of His religion in your life and conduct. The belligerent propensity is the survival of one of the worst qualities of the old man; it is earthly, sensual, devilish, and as such is to be utterly put away, if you would exhibit to the view of man any traces of the Gospel. To contend for the faith does not mean that you are to be a man of contention and strife. To contend for the faith is a very different matter from contending with your brethren. The one is a peaceful warfare, a devotion to the truth, the pursuit of a high and noble end; the other is a difference with fellow disciples, the out-cropping of a restless spirit, the friction and unrest of a depraved nature. The Lord employs no one to quarrel for Him, and when you are found to be given to that vice, the world will not believe your religious professions. You will be a grief to good men, a stumblingblock to bad ones. They don't need to go over to the gospel to learn how to quarrel; to that extent they can be religious without any change of heart. What they expect of the gospel is the removal of this belligerency; the implantation of peaceful and holy dispositions. Don't be deceived; your religion is vain except you learn to keep the peace.

THE FIRESIDE.

INDUSTRY OF BULGARIAN WOMEN.

THE Correspondent of a London newspaper writes: "Every house has its rude loom, of a make so primitive that one wonders how such good material is produced by it, for the Bulgarian cloth, though rather rough in texture, is of excellent quality, and will wear for years; a finer kind is, however, produced in the towns, and, at Kazan, in the vilayet of the Danube, I was assured that they could imitate any quality or pattern of cloth that might be given to them. The other woollen articles made are chiefly carpets, generally in long, narrow strips of bright colours, something like the Spanish blankets; rugs of different patterns, cushions or pillow-cases, and bed coverlets; these are sold either in the provinces or to the Constantinople market, and I do not think that there is any export for them; indeed, as the sheep of Roumelia give only about two pounds and three-quarters of wool to a fleece, the amount produced is probably barely sufficient for internal consumption. One of the most striking things in these villages is the apparently ceaseless industry of the women and girls, every one of whom, whether seated on the door-steps, walking in the streets or going to the fountain with her pails over her shoulder like a milkmaid's, always carries a hank of wool tied on a distaff under one arm, and twirls a spindle. In Kazan I walked for twenty minutes without being able to find one-literally one-woman or girl above eight years of age without this accompaniment, and mothers carry their little babies in a sort of a bag on their backs, so as to have their hand free to use the spindle."

The Fireside.

SCOLDING

WE never knew a scolding person that was able to govern a family. What makes people scold? Because they cannot govern themselves. How can they govern others? Those who govern well, are generally calm. They are prompt and resolute, but steady and mild.

GOSSIPS.

GOSSIPS of both genders, give up the shameful trade of tale bearing; don't be the devil's bellows any longer to blow up the fire of strife. Leave off setting people by the ears. If you do not cut a bit off your tongues, at least season them with the salt of grace. Praise God more and blame neighbours less. Any goose can cackle, any fly can find a sore place, any empty barrel can give forth sound, any brier can tear a man's flesh. No flies will go down your throat if you keep your mouth shut, and no evil speaking will come up. Think much, but say little; be quick at work and slow at talk; and above all, ask the great Lord to set a watch over your lips.-Spurgeon.

FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

Facts, Hints, Gems, and Poetry.

POETIC SELECTIONS.-THE CHILDRENS' CORNER.

Into His joy we'll enter,
Our work forever done.

Oh, to be daily growing
More like our blessed Lord,
Changed into His image

By contact with His word!
Seeing Him there reflected
From morning until night,
May Jesus fill our vision,

And be our heart's delight!
Soon we shall be with Jesus,
Yes, see Him face to face,
And find Him all the glory

Of heaven's most holy place.
And we shall share His glory
In those bright courts above,
And bask ourselves forever

In the sunshine of His love.
-Word and Work.

Nearer to leave the cross,

Nearer to wear the crown.

But lying dark between,

And winding through the night,
The dim and unknown stream
Crossed ere we reach the light.
Jesus, confirm my trust;

Strengthen the hand of faith
To feel Thee, when I stand
Upon the shore of death.

Be near me when my feet
Are slipping o'er the brink,
For I am nearer home,
Perhaps, than now I think.
-Phoebe Cary.

BUT, boys, what shall I say to you? I hear that you think yourselves too old to go to Sunday School, now that you are getting on to fifteen or more. Well, there is something in that! Of course you do not want to learn the same elementary things as when you were quite children; you almost feel your whiskers coming through, and therefore you are conscious of becoming young men, and do not want to be treated like babies! I say again, there is something in that! But I don't think that is very much. I think many boys make great donkeys of themselves by trying to be men before they are so. I have smiled at them myself, and wondered how they could be so absurd. Their little stick-up collars, and other silly mimicries of older folks, make them look like manikins, and not at all like men; they might have made first-class boys, but as men they are very third-rate indeed. Cæsar thought he would rather be first man in a village, than second in Rome; and I think I would rather be first among boys, than the last joint in the tail of the hobbledehoys, who are neither men nor boys. A word to the wise is sufficient.

FORGIVE YOUR FRIENDS.

Ir is said again and again that it is the duty of a man to forgive his enemies. That is true. But there is another duty equally as plain and sometimes more difficult, to forgive our friends. Not your false friends; but those who are your true ones, and who have shown their friendship in many ways. Our friends tax our patience sorely sometimes. They say and do things which it is hard for us to understand. They presume upon our friendship and tease us; they cross our pathway, and they fail when we depend upon them. Out of pure friendship they tell us things which annoy us, and their thoughtlessness inflicts a wound as deep as that which malice itself can make. Sometimes we marvel at the strange conduct of our friends. We are puzzled to explain it, and all we can do is to forgive. No light word or strange deed of theirs shall break the tie which through years of intercourse was slowly formed. One day in a confidential mood we wrote a private letter to a friend. It contained a defence of our conduct which some enemy had publicly assailed. What does our friend do but print the letter, and then sends us a copy of the paper, with a letter, which said, "I deemed it true to you that your satisfactory defence should be published. Pardon me if I have done wrong.' We forgave him, but it was an effort, for we smarted under the mischief which he had wrought. Another friend makes you the butt of his wit. He loves you, so he nicknames you in the presence of strangers. He gives you a good-natured thump. He throws the rays of his wit on your foibles, and raises a laugh in the company at your expense. He pursues that line of conduct until you are driven to calling him to account. Then he is hurt and grieved that you should doubt for a moment the sincerity and depth of his friendship. He would risk his life, he says, to save yours. says truly; so you forgive him. Another friend, almost breathless, hastens to meet you. "Mr. A.," he begins, "said in my hearing the other day a very ill-natured thing about you." You beg him to stop, as you do not wish to hear what was said, but you beg in vain. “I am you friend, and must tell you." And so he quotes a malicious remark, which ought not to have been repeated, and which makes A. excessively uncomfortable. Then he asks you to forgive him if in his friendly zeal he did wrong to repeat this precious bit of personal gossip, and you forgive him. But the friend that is the hardest to forgive is he who feels it to be his duty to be your faithful critic, and to tell you of your faults.

He

He uses no