dred subtle ways they showed their changed estimate.

The days went on, and with them Jamie Strong's life went towards its end. The doom of his house had come upon him; and love and prayers and watching were all, it seemed, of no avail. One night the fever reached its crisis, and the doctor, who had watched him through it, knew that the end was near. Jamie knew it also. When the morning dawned, he whispered faintly to his mother,

"I shall never see another morning; but oh, if I can only live till night, and see my little gentleman!"

She proposed to send for him, but that was not what the boy wished.

"No," he said, "I want to see him coming in at the old time, with some flowers in his hand, and make a sunshine in a shady place.' Somebody said that, mother-I forget who; I forget everything now; but that's what he does -he makes a sunshine in a shady place."

A dozen times that day it seemed as if the breath coming so faintly must be the last; but he clung to life with a strange silent tenacity. At last, just a few moments before it was time for the accustomed visit, he said,

"Kiss me; good-bye, mother; I want to save the rest of my strength for him."

She kissed him with her bitter tears falling fast. He put up a hand, so thin that she could almost see through it, and brushed the tears away.

“Don't cry,” he said; "it hurts me. Life here was hard, and up above, Christ says, it will be all made easy."

Then he was silent, and presently Robert came with a great bunch of white lilies in his hand.

"The lilies of heaven," murmured Jamie, in a low strange tone. Then into his eyes broke once more the light which never failed to respond to Robert's coming, and a wan smile fluttered over his lips, as a soul might flutter before it flies away.

"I am going now," he said. "I waited to say good-bye, my little gentleman. Do you think they are all gentlemen up there?"

neither prayed, read his Bible, attended church, kept the Sabbath, helped the Bible Society, or any other good society. But Joe was a bad man. He would be profane, and would drink and abuse his family, and waste his time, and be idle. His neighbour, Sam Gordon, on the contrary, about his own age, lived in a nice home, had a good business, had married well, had family worship daily, was temperate, honoured the Sabbath, gave regularly and liberally in charity, and was beloved and respected by everybody. The difference between Hunt and Gordon was very great. The whole community despised the one and respected the other. And Joe always stood to it that the reason of the difference was owing to "Esquire Staples' partiality;" and he always averred that if the Esquire had done by him as he did by Sam Gordon, he would have been as good a man!

Now, the facts of the case are as follows:When these men were boys, Esquire Staples was greatly annoyed every year by having the boys steal his peaches. They would never do it in open daylight, of course; but let there be a dark, thick night, then look out. On such an evening as this, Esquire Staples said to his wife,

"My dear, we shall at this rate lose all our peaches! And you know how much time and

Why, you won't think of shooting the boys, will you?"

Oh, no! not so bad as that, I trust." Why, you won't set Towser on them, will 'you? I'm afraid he would bite terribly."

"No, nothing of that. I am not so cruel as all that."

"Well, what will you do should they come ? O, I know! You would halloo at them, and that would frighten them almost to death."

So the good lady went to bed, charging her husband not to do anything more than halloo at them. The night was very cloudy and dark, and the eye could see nothing. But just as the clock struck eleven, Esquire Staples heard the boys as they climbed over the fence, as they crept along, and now and then stepped on some little stick that broke with a crack, and then he heard them shake a tree! Just then he set out and ran towards the noise; but as he was a heavy man, the boys heard him coming, and scampered. On he ran with all his might, but the night was so dark he could see nothing of the boys. Just before he got to the south fence over which he knew they would climb, he stumbled over a boy who had crouched down, hoping to be hid and to be passed by, as he found that he could not get clear of the fence. So Mr. Staples seized him by the collar, and lifted him up, and drew him towards his house. The boy struggled and tried hard to get away, but the Esquire was a strong man and held him tight. He tried to bite, and scratch, and make him let go, but it did no good. Not a word had been spoken by either one, nor was a word said till the Esquire had dragged him into his house, where was a bright lamp burning. He then looked him in the face!

"Ah! Sammy! it's you, is it? And Joe Hunt was with you, for you are never separated!" He then made Sam sit down. O, how red Sam's face was! He gave him his pockets full of beautiful peaches. He then talked to him, and told him about his father now in the grave, about his widowed mother, who had no son but him, and about his future life, his manhood, and character here in this world, and what

would become in the long eternity of his He then asked Sam to kneel down God to forgive him and It was a warm, earnest

soul. with him and ask make him good!

prayer for a poor, fatherless boy. Sam Gordon was weeping when he rose up from his knees, and promised, solemnly promised, Esquire Staples that he would never steal even a peach again, and that he would leave all bad company, be dutiful to his lonely mother, and try to make a good man.

And he kept his promise. Esquire Staples never told anybody about this night meeting, but he gave Sam many a nod of approbation, and many a smile of encouragement when he saw him trying to do well. From that night he dated all his good resolutions and the begin ning of his success. In parting with Joe Hunt's intimate society, he told him all that the Esquire had said. Joe shook his head and felt queer, and always took good care never to get near Esquire Staples; and yet he always stood to it, that if the Esquire had only caught him, and talked to him, and urged him to do good, he certainly should have done it!

Jesus on Galilee.

HE Sea of Galilee is what we should now 9 call a lake. It is of an oval shape,

about thirteen miles long, and from six to nine miles broad. The river Jordan enters it at the northern end, and passes out at the southern end. On the east the banks are nearly 2,000 feet high. The scenery is bleak and monotonous. There are many larger and much more beautiful lakes in Europe than the Lake of Galilee; but still there are none so interesting. It was in the neighbourhood of this lake that our blessed Lord passed the largest portion of His public life; and it was here that He worked most of His miracles. Several of the Apostles earned their living by fishing in these waters, and very often they had to pilot their Lord and Master from the one side to the other. On the banks of the lake were several

It was at Gadara, or the country of the Gadarenes, that Christ and His disciples landed after stilling the storm by a word.

"The exact place where the swine ran down is not known; but that the whole shore is steep admits of no doubt.

"On the east bank of the Jordan, before it falls into the lake, there are the ruins of places once of much importance-Bethsaida Julias, so called to distinguish it from the other Bethsaida on the coast. Here Philip, the Tetrarch, who enlarged, adorned, and called it after Julia, daughter of the Roman emperor, Augustus, is buried. Turning the head of the boat west, and crossing the influx of the Jordan, we reach the site of Chorazin, now Tell Hum.

"The vestiges of Chorazin lie embedded amongst rank foliage of tall thistles and reeds, and we found some difficulty in fighting our way to the ruins. They are close to the coast, extending about four hundred yards long by three hundred wide. The remains partly consist of foundations of houses, walls, mostly of undressed stone, principally, and to us the most interesting, fragments of columns, basements, capitals, friezes, all of fine, white, rich limestone, almost like marble, lying amongst blocks of hewn stone. Pedestals of double columns were also found, indicating a singular style of architecture. Many of the columns and friezes, which, on being struck, would ring like a bell, were of excellent workmanship. Some of the blocks were nine feet long, with panelled and ornamental fronts, but considerably defaced. Everything around indicates the former presence of elegant structures—the halls of the wealthy, public buildings, synagogues, or temples-but all that now remains lies overthrown amongst thistles, nettles, and briers.

"Leaving Chorazin, and following the coast about one mile, we arrive at the spot on which formerly stood Bethsaida. The ground is higher than Chorazin, the bank rougher, with rocks projecting, and a tangled thicket of the thorny nebk makes it difficult to land. The oleander grows in profusion, which, in season, must have a beautiful appearance. There are scarcely any ruins, but in the slope of the hill behind, are what were probably foundations. The most

conspicuous object is a circular stone wall, enclosing a fountain, called Job's Well; yet here was the native town, or home of Peter, and Andrew, and Philip, and James, and John, fishermen of Galilee, and afterwards apostles of Christ Jesus. Here they plied their craft; and it is said that on the smooth, sandy beach, that runs with an easy bend to the brink of the lake, they hauled in the great miraculous draught of fishes. The word Bethsaida means house of fish; but the once busy mart is now silent.

Again following the shore about one mile further, we ran our boat on the pebbly beach of Capernaum. Here the traces of a former city are even less than at Bethsaida; a low mound of black ruin, overgrown with thorns and thistles, is the most conspicuous object. The ground is considerably higher than Chorazin, rising to a rocky eminence, on the brow of which is cut the principal road of the whole city. On the western corner of this cliff is an old ruined khan, comparatively modern, and probably built for caravans travelling from city to city. All is desolation, and whatever might have been the condition of the three cities in former days, Capernaum is the most utterly laid waste.

"Magdala, or Mejdel, the home and birthplace of Mary Magdalene, out of whom Jesus cast seven devils, is about two miles from Capernaum, and is also on the shore of the lake. There are a few inhabitants, in almost a nude state, at Magdala, residing in about a dozen hovels, or mud huts. Their wretched dwellings are in a beautiful bay; and it was some little relief, after so long exploring the silent shores, to hear the shouting of a child, and see a thin column of smoke issuing from one of the huts.

"This day on the Lake of Galilee was one of the most memorable of our travels. The heavens were cloudless, the heat not excessive, and scarcely a ripple disturbed the calm, clear waters. The dipping of our oars was all the motion or sound that broke the stillness and silence. We all felt we were on a more than classic sea; for He who measures seas in the hollow of His hand, and who had all power in heaven and earth, had often sailed on its surface. It was from a boat on its brink, He spoke