the Society, and their wonder at what it has already done. You need not be told that I relished the scene before me, and enjoyed a high entertainment. I could not refrain from silent thanksgiving to God, as I brought out another and another parcel of New Testaments.. I felt my heart warm within me, while the contemplation of the British character called forth the just praises of my native land. O favoured isle! Peace be upon thee! In thee may the will of God be done, as it is done in heaven!

"When the evening came on, our sale closed; after which we retired to one of the cells, and entered into general conversation. We were all pleased with each other. My friends, on the one hand, seized every opportunity to show their kindness and attention; and I, on the other, in return for their kindness, amused them with my mountain barometer, thermometer, and pocket compass; all of which were perfectly new to them, and highly entertaining. At a proper hour the friars retired to their cells, and I also retired to mine; where I passed part of the night in thinking over the scene that had passed before, and the rest in repairing the fatigues of the day."

TRACT ANECDOTES.

BOOKS TO CHILDREN AND SERVANTS.

THERE is one plan of usefulness which is adopted by a traveller, which appears to be worthy of imitation. During his visits at the houses of friends, he generally gives to the servants, and sometimes to the children, a small religious work, which he has found useful in several instances. On one occasion he gave to the female servant of a minister, at whose house he had been staying for a day or two, "Brooks' Precious Remedies against Satan's Devices." It was considered an act of kindness, and the book was much valued. At the time this little work was given, the servant maid was under religious impressions, which were strengthened by the reading of the book. For several months she kept this volume under her pillow at night, and constantly read it when she had a few moments to spare. This young woman has become a decided character, and is a member of the church under the pastoral care of her master.

On another occasion, this friend gave "The Persuasives to Early Piety" to a little girl, who read it to the servant, and there is reason to hope that this servant also has been led to Christ as her only hope.

If Christian people, in their friendly visits, would in this way remember the children and servants, how frequently might they be the means of leading a poor sinner to the Redeemer! TRY.

I DO NOT WANT YOUR BOOKS.

IN visiting my neighbours I often enjoy the pleasure of giving tracts to those who attend no place of worship. It has been the practice for some years for traders to go among cottagers with catalogues of books for sale, and to leave one at each house; and one day, with my bundle of tracts in my hand, I gently knocked at the door of a cottage. The woman, on opening the door, rudely exclaimed, "I want no books;" but when I kindly informed her that the books were for nothing, and that they contained good news, a blush spread over her countenance, and, after many apologies, she very gratefully received a tract. Tract distributors should not be too easily discouraged; perseverance and gentleness will generally prevail.

IS THAT ALL?

D. P.

Ir was a pleasant summer's eve, when a minister bent his steps to the village of B. On his way thither, he observed by the road-side many cottages whose walls were covered with jessamine or the blushing monthly-rose; and while the housewife was preparing supper for her toil-worn husband, that no time might be lost, he often would be seen in his garden, digging or sowing seeds. On the above evening, the sower of spiritual seed addressed an industrious cottager by saying, "Friend, I have brought you some good news." The man, with a countenance full of expectation, and with a smile, answered, "I am glad of that, sir; please inform me what the good news is."

"Here is a little book, which, informs you that Jesus came to save sinners, even the chief, and I am sure that is good news to you and to poor sinners."

"Is that all?" said the man.

The astonished minister stood amazed, and repeated, "Is that all? All, to be told that there is mercy for the guilty? peace here, and glory hereafter? All, to be told how we can escape hell, and get to heaven? All, to have a Friend in every time of need? a balsam for our wounds? Oh, friend, what news can be compared to this? What is a man profited, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"

After the poor man had listened, and received the tract, the remainder of the journey was occupied in pitying the condition of the thousands in our land who have no higher enjoyment than the things of time and sense, who mind earthly things; and praising God, who had graciously opened his servant's eyes to see that Christ was all and in all.

A SAINT AT HIS FUNERAL.

To his own funeral came

A spirit from the skies,

And heard them call his name,
And saw their streaming eyes;
Their life to weep away,
Their hanging o'er his clay,
Fills him with vast surprise.

They kiss the pallid brow,
Where grace once sat enthron'd,
Their heads like willows bow,
O'er clay his spirit own'd:
That body wrought him woe,
And made his grief o'erflow,
Why should it be bemoan'd?
He would have hush'd their sighs,
And dried up every tear,
But Heaven the wish denies,
They bear away the bier.
The melancholy band
Beside the grave now stand,
Lamenting one so dear.

Oh, how his spirit burn'd,
To see them mourn the dross
So gladly he had spurn'd;
Eternal gain that loss!

That clay his soul had stain'd,
Sin e'er had in it reign'd,
Had he not found the cross.

He speeds his way above,
And they return to weep;
He shouts redeeming love,
They mourn in silence deep;
Oh could they hear him praise,
Amid heaven's circling blaze,
Their hearts with joy would leap!

But so it is below,

Where faith, with feeble sight,
Discerns through storms of woe
Immortal glories bright;
So dim the scenes appear,
We still would linger here,
Avoiding heaven's delight.

D. P.

Pilgrim's Harp.

THE autumn sun shone brightly upon the land of Judea. Its cities, from their terraced roofs, reflected the burning rays. Its plains were lively with the voices of reapers, who, resting at mid-day from their toil, enlivened the hour of repose by recounting the wonders their fathers had witnessed in the land of Ham, ere they were delivered from the cruel bondage of the tyrant Pharaoh; for the people of Israel were now in prosperity, and had not wickedly departed from their God into idolatry. The distant mountains were yet green with the foliage of the waning summer; and the vineyards on the hill sides proclaimed, by their luxuriant crops, the fertility of the land which the Lord had blessed. Peace and plenty were seen around. The royal psalmist, David, celebrated such a scene in the same country, in words of devout gratitude: "Thou crownest the year with thy goodness; and thy paths drop fatness. They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness; and the little hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing," Psa. lxv.

11-13.

Upon this happy scene, and at this hour of mid-day rest,

APRIL, 1848.

E

let our imagination for a little time be fixed, while we 66 joice with those who rejoice."

re

From the thicket,

But all is not repose and happiness. hard by the group of labourers in the field, a man comes forth whose countenance is full of terror, as he hurries on in flight. His upper garment has been thrown away, and his clothes are soiled. But other stains than these are visible; they are stains of blood yet scarcely congealed.

As the fugitive runs rapidly across the stubble, the startled reapers shout aloud, and invite him to draw near. But he heeds them not; or, hearing them, he but increases his exertions, and explains the emergency by crying " Refuge, refuge!"

The cry is well understood; and the man passes on, uninterrupted by his horror-stricken countrymen, who, watching him till he disappears in the distance, then turn their excited glances towards the spot where he first came in sight. Their expectations are soon realized. The avenger of blood is upon the track of the manslayer. He has traced his footsteps, or, losing these, he well knows the intended destination of him whom he pursues; and he unerringly follows on. In his hand he bears the sword with which the Divine law has armed him; and his features show plainly a conflict for mastery, between grief for the slain, and a stern determination to execute swift justice upon the slayer.

We follow the unhappy fugitive. Panting and trembling with unwonted and severe exertion, he yet dares not stop to rest his wearied limbs. Thirsting with extreme heat, the brook by the way offers its tempting stream in vain. The avenger of blood is behind him; and the shortest pause would diminish the distance between the pursuer and the pursued. In terror every moment of hearing the footsteps of his determined executioner, he strains every nerve to escape the threatened doom, by reaching the appointed city of refuge, the only place of safety for the Israelitish manslayer.

He gains ground. Who would not flee swiftly when life is at stake? He has left behind him the fields: he treads, with reviving hope, the smooth and level road. But yet he stops not. To the inquiring look or word of each passenger, he gives in reply but one word; "Refuge." It is enough: no further impediment is offered; he passes on.

Many a weary mile has been passed over, but the refuge has not yet been attained, and there is safety only in continued flight. Behind him is the avenger; before him is the