land with crime and misery; but if anything should stir us up to work against this unspeakable curse of our country, I think it is the great army of ill-used children, and patient, broken-hearted women-forgiving even unto seventy times seven, whose voice choked with sobs and wailing and lamentation, bid us come up 'to the help of the weak against the strong' -to the help of the 'Lord against the mighty.""

The voice of childhood speaks out in four distinct utterances, which are well worth listening to:-" Love us," "Bear with us," "Teach us,” aud "Guide us." Under each of these heads are to be found passages that none can read without feeling that the voice comes to us charged with a message we should do well to heed; and whoever can rise from a perusal of the book without having his love and respect for little children increased tenfold, must be a very good man or a very bad one.

SKETCHES OF BAND OF HOPE AND SUNDAY SCHOOL SPEAKERS, No.

MR. RIDICULOUS.

The children know him, and are looking for some lively refreshment from him.

The first thing he does is to make a comical face at the children. The children at once set him down as a superior man. He makes another funny face, which makes the youthful congregation laugh. These pleasant smirks are instead of the ordinary "introduction" with which sermons are begun.

The "introduction" being over, he plunges into the heads of his subject (if his subject had any heads, or if he had any subject it would be a good thing); or, at any rate, he plunges into something. It is a string of funny nothings, without heads, middle, or tail. One queer story succeeds another, interspersed with pleasant grimaces, which come as naturally and as frequently as do the oaths with which profane men spice their conversation. It is extremely delightful to the children, but miserably unprofitable. It is like the elegant froth puddings which adorn hotel dinner tables, fine to look at, but poor stuff to feed upon; nearly all froth, and almost no pudding. As it would not require a careful calculation to ascertain how long it would take a man to starve on such puddings, so we might easily calculate how soon a Sunday-school or Band of Hope would run down, if statedly fed on such foolish nothings as the present orator utters.

It is very easy to make children laugh, especially very young children. But making them laugh should not be the chief object of the man who addresses them. If mirth is all

that is desired it would be well to omit the speech altogether, and only do funny things. Let a funny person go from bench to bench in a Band of Hope and tickle the children's noses with a straw, or pleasantly punch them under the ribs with a stick, and he will have the school in a burst of cheerful merriment sooner than by delivering the very funniest address he knows. Perhaps somebody says this would be a ridiculous proceeding. Not much more ridiculous than some of the buffoon speeches which are sometimes made.

It is not denied that the Ridiculous Speaker succeeds in securing the attention of the children. Children will give heed to whatever is amusing. Let a man come along with a barrel organ, and the most entertaining speaker cannot hold their attention. Let some lively boy report that there is a monkey in attendance on that instrument of music, and it takes more than ordinary discipline to restrain them from crowding the doors and windows to witness the grotesque performances of the merrymaking little beast.

How far, then, is it right to be funny in speaking to children? Very little, indeed, if we want to do them good. Don't be alarmed, my cheerful friend. It is right to flavour your speech with amusing remarks, just as you put sugar in your coffee. A little sugar, if it is a good article of sugar, without too much sand it, will sweeten a good size cup of coffee. If you drink the (decoction of rye, chestnuts, roots, and other stuff now generally used for) coffee without sugar, it is very disagreeable. If, on the other hand, you put too much sugar in it, you find a quantity of good-for-nothing sweetening at the bottom of the cup, which the coffee would not dissolve, and which is not useful, either as coffee, sugar, or anything else. So must we season our speech with exactly the right quantity of an excellent article of mirthfulness. If a good joke comes in place to point an illustration with, use it by all means, but take care that neither joke nor illustration are used only for the sake of saying something sharp or funny. If the speech is all joke, it is coffee with too much sugar. If too dry and solemn, it is coffee with the sugar left out; and however pure Mocha it may be, nobody wants it, or can enjoy it.

While sweetening our speech with the sugar of pleasant mirthfulness, let us also be careful that it be well seasoned with the salt of Divine grace. Otherwise it cannot be written of it, "And the speech pleased the Lord."

A RAGGED-SCHOOL INCIDENT.

With unkempt hair and unwashed face,
And hands begrimed and worn,
With wrinkles on his childish brow,
And clothes both patched and torn,
So came he to the ragged-school,
The boy with eager eyes;

So came he, wondering at the words
Of hope beyond the skies.

Half sheepishly he held aloof

While brighter boys drew near, And stealthily he smiled his smile,

Or wiped away a tear,

Shrank from the touch of kindly hands

Laid gently on his head,
But listened with intensest awe

To what the teacher said.

An awkward stupid boy he looked,

But his looks belied his life,

For shrewd, strong-willed, and self-possessed,
Was the boy in scenes of strife.

But the cheerful place, and the gentle words,
And looks of quiet love,

Wrought wonders with the little heart,
Full oft so hard to move.

The teacher trusted, prayed, and talked,
But did not know that day
That a little thief was rescued from

The dangerous downward way.

But the little ragged boy went forth

To battle as he might;

With the Wrong around him everywhere,
And he struggled to the Right.

And England owes a word of thanks
To the teacher and the school;
For one less crowds the prison cells-
Dares God and country's rule.

One more is treading manfully

The path to home and heaven;

Where to the teacher and the taught
The crown of life is given.

MARIANNE FARNINGHAM.

HOW I BECAME AN ABSTAINER.

I have been now for many years an abstainer. I renounced the use of all intoxicating drinks at a time when it was such a rare thing to find an abstaining minister, that those who were found, led but a sorry life of it. Times are changed now, and we abstainers have something more than the best of it every way. The people do us honour, and when the ministers don't join us, they are discreetly silent. But I must tell you how I joined the band, for that is the purpose of my story.

To bring up the tale in all its connections, I must go back to my school days. These were passed principally under the roof of an uncle, who, having been some ten years married, and being yet without children, with my father's consent, selected me from his somewhat numerous 'regiment of infantry,' and undertook my board and education.'

My uncle Robert was a sternly upright, and according to his light, a philanthropic religious man. Liberally endowed with this world's goods, he had ever an open hand for the poor, and as far as pecuniary contributions went, his efforts in connection with his own church were, when they became known, for he generally attempted to conceal them, accounted extraordinary. Seldom, too, was he without some stranger or other at his table as a guest, to whom he dispensed a most gracious hospitality, in which a free supply of the liquors then in ordinary and respectable use, as beer, wines, and spirits, was not wanting. My uncle was a strictly temperate man himself, and any thing beyond the bounds of moderation in another would have met his severest reprobation. His views on the subject of temperance were decidedly opposed to those of the small knot of abstainers who called their society by the name of the district in which he resided. More than once he took occasion to speak a little sharply of the ingratitude that a refusal to share in the "good gifts' of God betokened. Wine being spoken favourably of in the Bible as making glad the heart of man, he accounted necessarily good, and without further question, prono unced judgment against abstinence as unscriptural and wrong. Such views I of course fully imbibed, and until I went to college and came a little in contact with the great world, I never even imagined a cause to change them.

I think I would be in my tenth year when uncle R obert's kind heart led him to add another member to his hou sehold. This was his niece, my cousin, Maggie Marshall, whose parents

had died within a week of each other, too suddenly to admit of their making any arrangement for the worldly future of their only child. Maggie had been so peculiarly brought up that while her book-learning was such as befitted a 'bein' farmer's daughter, she could yet hardly do 'a hand's turn' to help herself. This was little thought of while she had the prospect of inheriting a comfortable 'down-sitting' from her father, and suitors, from whom she might have chosen well, sought her hand. But when the farmer's affairs were settled, and the last half year's rent paid, the effect of a lengthened period of difficulties, hitherto unsuspected, was discovered in the destitute condition of my poor cousin. Almost as a matter of course, her numerous wooers one by one, with a single exception, quietly discontinued their attentions, though unhappily, for the one who remained faithful Maggie felt no special affection; while he in whom she did feel interested-nothing more, she was hardly nineteen-was among the faithless many. She had always, however, both at home and by uncle Robert, been accounted a spirited girl, so that it was supposed, with kindness from the remaining friends, she would soon get over her troubles. Thus though for a time after she came home to uncle Robert's house she appeared dejected and sorrow-stricken, it was noticed little further than by the unobtrusive kindliness that would have drawn her out of herself, and by cultivating new interests in her heart, raised her to more cheerful thoughts. Bright flashes of spirit were seen again and again breaking in upon her otherwise depressed and generally melancholy deportment, sufficent to indicate how different was her nature from her present unhealthy dulness. Many surmises were formed as to the cause of her continued dejection, but as she always declined any conversation on the subject of herself, it is not surprising that the surmises should have failed to touch the truth.

Uncle Robert was deeply distressed at the condition of his niece, and would willingly, now that she was under his roof and guardianship, have done anything, within the limits of his power to relieve or lighten the consuming grief. Like many doctors, however, he knew little how to minister to a mind diseased, but, calling into play his impression of the 'good gifts," he recommended-what he supposed was a divine prescription, misinterpreting the passage of Scripture as so many others have done, wine to make her heart glad. The advice was followed, and certainly, bye and bye, there did appear a wonderful im