brushes of all kinds; best shoe brushes in sets, scrubbing brushes, stove, furniture, tooth, clothes, and hat brushes, as well as thrum mops, and hemp and wool mats. I supply everything in a kitchen way: housemaid's gloves, blacklead, bees'-wax, turpentine, scouring paper, emery, fuller'searth, whiting, pipeclay, paste in pots, hearth-stones, knife-bricks, firewood, and matches; I think I told you, sir, that I live round the corner?'

"Yes, you did tell me,' thought I, and I have a great mind to tell you something. Hardly can I stir out into my front garden without being annoyed by a long catalogue of oils, pickles, candles, and kitchen articles; but of one thing I am determined, that neither oil, pickle, candle, nor kitchen article, from your shop, shall ever come into my house.'

"From that time not a single day passed without my seeing, and hearing too, the man in the fustian jacket. He seemed not only always ready to catch me in my garden, but always ready to take advantage of any little circumstance that occurred. At one time, coming up as Betty brought in a fish, he thought it a very fine one, and told me that he kept the best of fish sauces, and, indeed, sauces of all kinds, anchovy, catchup, mushroom, walnut, Indian soy, and currie powder; as well as all kinds of spices, nutmegs, cinnamon, pimento, cloves, ginger, mace; peppers, black, cayenne, Chili, long, and white. At another time, when I had hung up my canary in the front, there he stood by the gate, calling it a pretty creature, and telling me that he sold bird-seeds of every sort, and bird'ssand. On a third occasion, he overtook me just as I stepped across to the post-office with a letter. We are both on the same errand, sir,' said he, for I have a letter to put in the office myself. It was directed by my son. See, sir, what a beautiful hand he writes!' and then he failed not to tell me that he sold writing-paper, good ink, sealing-wax, and wafers, and excellent black-lead pencils, not forgetting to remind me, as before, that his shop was no distance from my house, being only just round the corner. In short, morning, noon, and night, when at home

in my garden, or walking abroad, I never seemed secure from having the man in the fustian jacket at my elbow. Again and again he enumerated the articles he sold, and again he informed me that he lived just round the corner.

"Man is a changeable creature, and in many respects it is well that he is so, for if all his angry feelings and unjust opinions were to remain ever the same, he would be more unlovely than he now is. In my anger I thought unjustly of the man in the fustian jacket, but, in a little time, my anger passed away, for he turned out to be an honest, industrious, kind-hearted, and benevolent man. True it was that he pursued his business with more ardour than tradesmen usually do, but then he was attentive, punctual, and as upright in executing his orders as he was active in obtaining them. His perseverance prevailed; I tried him, made inquiries about him, liked him, and at last so heartily respected him, that, from that time to this, all the colours, oil, pickles, candles, kitchen articles, sauces, spices, birdseed, writing-paper, ink, sealing-wax, wafers, and blacklead pencils, that I have required, have been bought of him, nor have I ever once regretted the circumstance of his shop being only three doors round the corner.

"Now why," continued my uncle, "cannot we be as much in earnest in holy things, as the man in the fustian jacket is in his business? Here he is awake when we are asleep; he is moving while we are sitting still; he is busy while we are idle. He sets us an example that we might follow with advantage.

"Go where he will, the man in the fustian jacket makes it known that he is a tradesman; but go where we will, we too much hide our profession as Christians. He acts as if he thought highly of his trade; we act as though we were almost ashamed of our religion. He tells all he meets of the articles he sells, and we tell hardly any one of the truths we believe. If we talked of our Bibles as much as he does of his goods, and were half as anxious about the Gospel of Jesus Christ, as he is to extend his business, it would be to our credit, and greatly to our advantage.

"Much have I learned from the man in the fustian

jacket, for he continually wins his way by perseverance. What he does in temporal things, we should do in eternal things; what he does to advance his welfare on earth, we ought to do to secure our happiness in heaven.

"Think of the little value of his articles, and the exceeding great value of the truths of the Gospel! Surely, if he prizes his possessions, we ought to prize ours a hundredfold more. To know, sinners as we are, the way, and the only way, to salvation through Jesus Christ, who died, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God, is to know that which is beyond all price; the more inexcusable then are we when we fail to value it ourselves, or to make known its value to others.

"Truly, the children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light,' but this ought not so to be. While we are not slothful in business,' we should be 'fervent in spirit, serving the Lord."-Old Humphrey.

AWFUL DEATH OF A YOUNG INFIDEL.

THE following sad account of a young man, who for a time attended the ministry of the Rev. Baptist Noel, of London, is illustrative of the fearful consequences of breaking away from the influence of the Gospel. The young man was the son of pious parents, and for several years was regular in his attendance at the house of God. At length he became acquainted with some young men of infidel principles. The more he associated with them, the less pleasure he took in hearing the Gospel. Ere long he absented himself wholly from the sanctuary. to indulge in the pleasures of sin, and went to such length in criminal indulgence, that he soon laid the foundation of a fatal illness. Three months after he abandoned the house of God, he was on the verge of the grave. Mr. Noel was then called to visit him. The dying youth refused to converse with the servant of God; but covered his head with the bed-clothes. After several vain attemps to enter into conversation with him, and intreating him to seek mercy

He then began

from the hand of that Being before whom he was soon to appear in judgment, Mr. Noel offered a prayer for him, and was about to leave the apartment. Just as his hand was upon the latch of the door, the young man made an effort to sit up in the bed, and asked Mr. N. to stay a minute. Mr. N. returned to the bed side. The sufferer's strength was well nigh exhausted. He whispered in the ear of Mr. N. the appalling words, "I'M LOST!" He sunk down in the bed, drew the clothes over his head, and never spoke again.

LEARN TO SAY, NO.

THAT was very simple, but at the same time it was valuable advice which a Father once delivered to his son, "Learn," he said, "to say, No." It appears to be a work of the greatest difficulty for many persons to employ this monosyllable. Look at that indulgent father. His son has made a request; he loves that son, and he is unwilling to refuse him; and yet he has serious fears that his request if granted may injure him. But he cannot disoblige his son. He cannot say, No; and the consequence of this indecision is the first step towards the ruin of that son. Mark that young man! He is the possessor of amiable manners and an obliging temper. He is the favourite of his youthful associates. One of them invites him to take a cheerful glass. He had not consented, and yet he is too amiable to refuse. He thinks of a father's counsel and a mother's prayers; he remembers how many have been destroyed by the inebriating bowl, and he trembles for his own safety. These thoughts rising before him, he is afraid to accept, and yet he cannot bear the idea of declining his companion's solicitation. He is ashamed to own himself a friend to temperance, for then he would be exposed to their ridicule. In short, he cannot say, No. Ultimately he yields. He swallows the first glass. The draught is delicious. Having commenced, it is still more difficult to say, No, and on he goes to ruin. Learn to say, No.

RECOGNITION OF THE EWE AND THE LAMB. THE acuteness of the sheep's ear surpasses all things in nature I know of. A ewe will distinguish her own lamb's bleat among a thousand, all bleating at the same time. Besides, the distinguishment of voice is perfectly reciprocal between the ewe and the lamb, who, amid the deafening sound run to meet one another. There are few things that ever amused me more than a sheep-shearing, and then the sport continues the whole day. We put the flock into a fold, set out all the lambs to the hill, and then set out the ewes to them as they are shorn. The moment that a lamb hears its dam's voice, it rushes from the crowd to meet her; but, instead of finding the rough, well-clad, comfortable mamma, which it left an hour, or a few hours ago, it meets a poor, naked, shrivelling-a most deplorablelooking creature. It wheels about, and uttering a loud, tremulous bleat of perfect despair, flies from the frightful vision. The mother's voice arrests its flight-it returns, flies, and returns again, generally for ten or a dozen times before the reconcilement is fairly made up.

Ettrick Shepherd.

THE PERILS OF FALSEHOOD.

IN the beautiful language of an eminent writer, "When once a concealment or deceit has been practised in matters where all should be fair and open as the day-confidence can never be restored, any more than you can restore the white bloom to the grape or plum, which you have once pressed in your hand." How true is this, and what a neglected truth by a great portion of mankind.

Falsehood is not only one of the most humiliating vices, but sooner or later it is certain to lead to many serious crimes. With partners in trade-with partners in lifewith friends-with lovers-how important is confidence! How essential that all guile and hypocrisy should be guarded against, in the intercourse between such parties?