their sins through the blood of Christ. If God has not forgiven a person, all his sins stand against his name in God's account; and “the wrath of God abideth on him." Yet many still go on carelessly, without prayer to God, without confession of sins, without really going to Christ. The Lord's-day comes, and they either stay away from God's house, or go there and hear as if they heard not. The sacred day ends, and if they would but listen, they would hear a voice saying, “What, again!Have you again trifled with eternal things; again put from you the words of everlasting life ? Has not the past suffered for sin and unconcern? While time is flying, while some souls are perishing around you, and others are being saved, will you again refuse to enter into the narrow way, again choose the broad way?

But there is one place, unforgiven, unsaved soul, with which I would especially ask you to connect these two words, “ What, again!” This place is your nightly pillow. How many nights have some persons laid the head down on the pillow, and slept-UNFORGIVEN! If such a one were to die in the night, die during sleep, how dreadful the thought of waking up in eternity, unforgiven, " in his sins ! Let me entreat all such to connect these two words with the nightly pillow. I do not of course ask you to write them there, but to imagine them there as your head gently sinks down to rest. Now let a voice whisper, “What, again!” Another day gone, a day of sinning, a day of mercies, a day written in God's book, a day that brings me nearer eternity; gone, gone for ever! and yet still without God, without Christ, without hope!

Hark! Jesus says, “Incline your ear, and come with me; hear, and your soul shall live." Take Him at His word ; go to Him, and expect Him to do as He hath said. Trust His infinite atonement; rest on His faithful, loving words; then conscience shall no longer torment you ; but the Comforter will dwell within your soul to witness of Jesus, and again and again to assure you that in Him you are safe, and blessed for time and eternity.



FOR THE YOUNG. . “That man will be the death of friend Martin. Scarcely a day passes me yet," said Paul Levering.

that I don't have to complain of him. He looked worried, but not angry. Yesterday one of the boys came and “Thee means Dick Hardy ? " told me that he saw him throw a

stone at my new Durham cow, and “What has he been doing to thee, | strike her in the head.”

“That's very bad, friend Levering. The questioner was a Friend named Does thee know why he does this? Isaac Martin-a neighbour.

Was thy Durham trespassing on his “He's always doing something, grounds P.”

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"No; she was only looking over that time one of my cows had a horn his fence. He has a spite against knocked off.” me and mine, and does all he can to “What did thee do?” injure me. You know the fine pear “I went to Dick Hardy and gave tree that stands in the corner of my him a piece of my mind." field adjoining his property ?”

“That is, thee scolded, and called “Yes.

hard names, and threatened.” "Two large limbs of fruit stretched “ Yes; just so, friend Martin." Over on his side. You would hardly “Did any good come of it?” believe it, but it's true. I was out About as much good as if I had there just now, and discovered that whistled to the wind.” he had sawed off those two fine limbs “How has it been since ?" that hung over on his side. They “No change for the better. It lay down upon the ground, and his grows, if anything, worse and worse. pigs were eating the fruit."

Dick never gets weary of annoying "Why is Dick so spiteful to thee, friend Levering? He doesn't annoy “Has thee ever tried the law with me. What has thee done to him?" him, friend Levering? The law

"Nothing of any consequence.” should protect thee.” "Thee must have done something. “Oh, yes, I've tried the law. Once Try, and remember.”

he ran his heavy waggon against my "I know what first set him off. I carriage, purposely, and upset me in kicked an ugly dog of his once. The the road. I had a narrow escape of beast,-half-starved at home, I sup my life. The carriage was so badly pose, was always prowling about broken that it cost me ten pounds here, and snatched up everything for repairs. A neighbour saw the that came in his way. One day I whole thing, and said it was plainly came upon him suddenly, and gave intended by Dick. So I sent him him a tremendous kick that sent him the carriage-maker's bill, at which howling through the gate. Unfor- he got into a towering passion. Then tunately, as it turned out, the dog's I threatened him with prosecution, master happened to be passing along and he laughed in my face maligthe road. The way he swore at me nantly. I felt that the time had was dreadful. I never saw a more come to act decisively, and sued him, vindictive face. On the next morn relying on the evidence of my neighing a splendid Newfoundland, that bour, who had seen the affair. But I had raised from a pup, met me my neighbour was afraid of Dick, shivering at the door, with his tail and so gave his testimony that the cut off. "I don't know when I have jury saw only an accident instead of felt so bad. Poor fellow ! his piteous a purpose to injure, and gave their look haunts me now. I have no verdict accordingly. After that, proof against Dick, but have never Dick Hardy was worse than ever. doubted as to his agency in the He took delight in annoying and inmatter. In my grief and indignation juring me. I am satisfied, that in 1 shot the dog, and so put him out more than one instance, he left gaps of my sight.”

in his fences in order to entice my , "Thee was hasty in that, friend cattle into his fields, that he might Levering,” said the Quaker.

set his savage dogs on them, and "Perhaps I was, though I have hurt them with stones. It is more never repented the act. I met Dick than a child of mine dares do to cross a few days afterwards. The grin of his premises. Only last week he satisfaction on his face I accepted as tried to set his dog on my little an acknowledgment of his mean and Florence, who strayed into one of his cruel revenge. Within a week from fields after buttercups. The dog

was less cruel than his master, or 1 “No, friend Levering. I advised she would have been torn by his thee to kill thy enemy, lest some day teeth, instead of being only fright- | he should kill thee.” ened by his bark.”

“Isn't killing murder, I should “It's a hard case, truly, friend like to know ?" demanded Levering Levering. Our neighbour Hardy “There are more ways to kill an seems possessed of an evil spirit.” enemy than one," said the Quaker.

“ The very spirit of the devil,” “I've killed a good many in my time, was answered with feeling.

but no stain of blood can be found “He's thy enemy, assuredly; and on my garments. My way of killing if thee doesn't get rid of him, will do enemies is to make them my friends, thee greater harm.”

Kill neighbour Hardy with kind “I wish I could get rid of him." ness, and thee'll have no more trou

“ Thee must, if thee would dwell ble with him.” in safety, friend Levering.”

A sudden light gleamed over Mr. The Quaker's face was growing Levering's face, as if a cloud had very serious. He spoke in a lowered passed from the sun of his spirit. voice, and bent towards his neigh A new way to kill people!”. bour in a confidential manner.

“The surest way to kill enemies “ Thee must put him out of the as thee'll find, if thee'll only try.” way.”

“Let me see, how shall I go about "Friend Martin !” The surprise it!” said Paul Levering, taken at of Paul Levering was unfeigned. once with the idea. “ Thee must kill him !”.

“If thee has the will, friend LeverThe countenance of Levering grew ing, it will not be long before thee blank with astonishment.

finds the way.” “Kill him!” he ejaculated.

And so it proved. Not two hours “If thee doesn't kill him, he'll afterwards, as Mr. Levering was certainly kill thee one of these days, driving into the village, he found friend Levering. And thee knows | Dick Hardy with a stalled cart-load what is said of self-preservation of stone. He was whipping his being the first law of nature.” horse and swearing at him passionAnd get hung ?”

ately; but to no good purpose. The “I don't think they'll hang thee,” | cart wheels were buried half-way to coolly returned the Quaker. “Thee the axle in stiff mud, and defied the can go over to his place, and get him | strength of one horse to move them all alone by thyself. Or, thee can On seeing Mr. Levering, Dick stopped meet him in some by-road. Nobody pulling and swearing, and getting need see thee; and when he's dead, on to the cart, with his back towards I think people will be more glad his neighbour, commenced pitching than sorry. Thee needn't fear any the stones off into the middle of the bad consequences.”

road. “Do you think I'm no better than “Hold on a bit, friend Hardy," a murderer ?” Levering's astonish said Levering, in a pleasant voice, as ment passed to horror and indigna he dismounted and commenced un. tion. “ I, Paul Levering, stain my hitching his horse. hands with blood!”

But Dick, pretending not to hear “Who said anything about stain- | him, kept on pitching out the ing thy hands with blood ?” The stones. Quaker was imperturbable.

"Hold on, I say, and don't give “Why, you !

yourself all that trouble," adding “Thee's mistaken. I never used Mr. Levering, speaking in a louder the word blood.”

voice, but in kind and gentle tones. “But you meant it. You suggested "Two horses are better than one. murder."


With Charley's help, we'll soon have | ing and confused, and looking down the wheels on good solid ground at the ground instead of into Mr. again."

Levering's face, " to pay you for the Understanding now what was use of your team yesterday in getting meant, Dick's hands fell almost in my hay. I should have lost it if nerveless by his side.

you hadn't sent your waggon, and it's ." There," said Levering, as he put only right that I should pay for the his horse in front of Dick's, and use of it." made the traces fast, “one pull, and 1 “I should be very sorry," answered the thing's done.”

Paul Levering, cheerily, “if I couldn't And before Dick could get down do a neighbourly turn without pay. from the cart, it was out of the mud You were right welcome, friend

Hardy, to the waggon. I am more Without saying a word more, than paid in knowing that you saved Levering unfastened his horse from that nice field of clover. How much the front of Dick's animal, and, did you get P” hitching up again, rode on.

About three tons. But, Mr. On the next day, Mr. Levering Levering, I must " saw Dick Hardy in the act of “Not a word, if you don't want to strengthening a bit of weak fence, offend me," interposed Mr. Levering. through which his (Levering's) cattle “I trust there isn't a man around had broken once or twice; thus re here that wouldn't do as much for a moving a temptation, and saving the neighbour in time of need. Still, if animals from being beaten and set you feel embarrassed-if you don't on by dogs.

wish to stand my debtor-pay me in "Thee's given him a bad wound, good will.” friend Levering,” said the Quaker, Dick Hardy raised his eyes from on getting information of the two in the ground, slowly, and looked in a cidents just mentioned, “and it will strange, wondering way at Mr. be thy own fault if thee doesn't kill Levering. him outright."

“Shall we not be friends " Mr. Not long afterwards, in the face of Levering reached out his hand. an approaching storm, and while Hardy grasped it with a quick, short Dick Hardy was hurrying to get in grip; then, as if to hide feelings that some clover hay, his waggon broke were becoming too strong, dropped down. Mr. Levering, who saw from it, and went off hastily. one of his fields the accident, and “Thee's killed him!” said the understood what loss it might occa Quaker, on his next meeting with sion, hitched up his own waggon, and Levering; "thy enemy is dead.” sent it over to Dick's assistance. “Slain by the weapons of kindWith a storm coming on that might ness," answered Paul Levering, last for days, and ruin from two to “which you supplied.” three tons of hay, Dick could not “No; thee took them from God's decline the offer, though it went ter armoury, where all men may equip ribly against the grain to accept a themselves without charge, and betavour from the man he had hated come invincible,” replied the Quaker. or three years, and injured in so "And I trust, for thy own peace

and safety, thee will never use any On the following morning Mr. other weapons in fighting with thy Levering had a visit from Dick neighbours. They are sure to Hardy. It was raining fast.

kill!” "I've come,” said Dick, stammer

many ways.

THE OLD PREACHER. HAVE you seen him ? Old, poor, feeble, and broken down,-a shadov of his former self,—at the close of a lifetime's toil, perhaps he has no property enough in the world to give himself a respectable burial ; an yet, if you could trace his history, you would find him worthier of fam and honour than many whose names are chiselled on the finest marbles or sculptured on the costliest tombs.

How many years he has toiled and wept and prayed! How many troubles he has healed, how many broken hearts he has bound up! Hoy often he has been the song of the drunkard and the laughing-stock o fools, when by his faithful reproofs he has won the scorner's blot! And now the friends of his childhood are gone. One by one he has followed them to the grave; others have taken his place and entered into hii labours; his voice is broken, his step is feeble, his heart sad sometimes and too often he is forgotten by those around.

Do you think how much you owe that old man ? But for his labours your father might have been a drunkard, and his son a disgrace. The prosperity you inherit, and the good habits you have formed, may be the result of God's blessing on his ministrations in the days gone by Do not forget him! Once he was welcomed to your father's house, and you climbed upon his knee, or nestled in his bosom; but he is an old man now, his speech is ancient, his coat threadbare, and you have almost forgotten that you ever knew him.

Reader, remember the old preacher! He may be as worthy as the new one. You have tried and proved him ; forsake not your father's friend. Let his blessing be on your children's heads, as it was years ago on yours. If he cannot preach, he can pray. Yes, and you need his prayers. Go, visit him. Cheer him in his old age. Let him see the precious fruits of his toils and tears and prayers in days long past. Listen to his words of wisdom and of grace. Seek counsel from one whose only ambition is to do you good. Pity his infirmities and frailties; they are the heritage of old age. Grasp his trembling hand, and leave something in it! That will show him that friends still remember hiin, and that God has not forgotten his service and his tears.

“Dead ! is he?” Then it is too late ; but there is that poor, totter. 'ing, careworn widow, once the fairest of her young companions, and zealous in all the duties of a youthful Christian life; now a poor, wornout pilgrim, travelling towards the tomb. Little did she know what it was to be “a minister's wife," when she gave herself to God, her husband, and the Church. Little did she comprehend the tears and cares that were to be hers while she was to become a mother in Israel indeed. How many have been belped by her weary hands! How many strangers have been sheltered in her dwelling and refreshed at her board! What blessings she has scattered all along her path from year to year!

Now she is old and grey-headed, wrinkled and worn and pale and

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