"If thou, Lord, shouldst mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand ?" Psa. cxxx. 3. Does it become us, then, to be severe, in such an inclement season, on our fellow-sinners, when we have been visited with unmerited mercy? Cast another glance at the poor wretch, as she stoops to adjust her brown-paper sock, and to pull up the trodden-down heel of her saturated shoe, and say whether the heart is to be envied that does not yearn to lessen her wretchedness, and to increase her comforts? You may not know whether she has always acted with discretion, but you do know that she is walking in a miserable puddle, and that she has a wretched pair of shoes on her feet.

Neither must you say that this picture is overdrawn; on the contrary, it is sketched from the life; it is unmingled, unembellished truth, which you have only to look for to behold.

These are sights which every one may see, and trials that every one, possessing the ability, ought to endeavour to relieve; but we are too apt, in such cases, to call upon others to act, and to excuse ourselves. We can cry loud enough,

ર "Take physic, Pomp,

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,"

with affected virtuous indignation against hard

heartedness, and yet be content to remain inactive, like the Pharisees of times gone by, who bound heavy burdens on men's shoulders, while they themselves moved them not with one of their fingers.

If, selfishly regardless of other's wants, we are liberally providing for our own comforts; if, casting aside shoes but half-worn out, which so many people would thankfully receive, we are ordering new ones, to gratify our pride, we deserve, indeed, to be visited with calamity. Wonderfully quick-sighted is a lame man in observing all who walk on crutches; benevolently susceptible are we, after a fit of the tooth-ache, to the pains of all visited with a like calamity; and were we compelled, for a single day, to wade through the miry streets without shoes, or with such only on our feet as freely let in the water, such an appeal as the present would be useless, for gladly should we contribute to the removal of trials which now, perhaps, we pass without pity.

To a poor person, a strong, well-made pair of shoes is, at all times, a valuable present, but doubly so in the inclement season of winter. Be persuaded, then, to assist some one, whom you think worthy of your kindness, in attaining so desirable a benefit. Give not to those who frequent the pawnbroker's and gin-shop, for

Q

though you may deplore their misery, you cannot relieve it. Your bounty would only afford them a short-lived and guilty respite from their increasing cares. Give to those who are struggling hard to procure comforts, which, when attained, will be highly valued, and carefully preserved ; and when the snows are abroad, and the rains descend, when the wintry winds whistle around your cheerful habitation, you will not regret having contributed to the comforts of the destitute. All the kindly feelings you may indulge in towards the poor, are not equal to the gift of a single pair of shoes: but while I mention this gift in particular, I would exhort to all deeds of kindness. "Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble," Psa. xli. 1.

ON THE DAY'S SORROW.

WHEN a physician is called in, the first duty he has to perform is to make himself thoroughly acquainted with the malady of the invalid; he is thus enabled to direct his skill and judgment to a particular point; but if he were called on to write his prescription without seeing his patient, or without a definite knowledge of his malady, the probability of his effecting a cure would be much decreased.

Now, a writer, when he addresses his readers generally, is just in this latter case. Like the physician, he may have a general knowledge of human nature, and be acquainted with the most common infirmities of his fellow-creatures, but unless his remarks are definitely directed to amend some particular evil, or effect some particular good, his success will, at best, be but partial. He may mean well, but, like an archer shooting with a bow at a venture, he knows not where, nor with what effect, the point of his observations will fall.

My present address is a general one, and of necessity attended with the disadvantage already glanced at; yet am I not without hope that it will pour oil and balm into some wounded bosom. Though the subject be that of sorrow, it may bid some desponding heart be glad, and gild with a smile some face now beclouded with care. It may be that some will not understand the meaning of "the day's sorrow;" and Old Humphrey would be well satisfied on this subject to be unintelligible to all his readers; but this he cannot hope for. No! no! There are too many who will understand, too well, the meaning of "the day's sorrow."

The language of Scripture is, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," Matt. vi. 34; and when the heart knows its own bitterness, that bitterness is none the less on account of its being unknown to the rest of the world.

If you are among those who rise in the morning strangers to the toothache, the headache, and the heartache, you will act wisely to offer up your hearty acknowledgments to the Father of mercies for his goodness: but you will act very foolishly if you do not also fervently pray that you may be prepared for a different state of things.

"In the world ye shall have tribulation," John