as ignorant of the power as he is a stranger to the consolation of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

THE COMMANDMENT WITH PROMISE.

PART III.

"Good measure, pressed down."

HARRY BENTLY had learned his filial duty, not among human maxims and social rules, but from God's word; and where men would have excused him, he could not excuse himself. To suffer a stain upon his father's memory which it was in his power to wipe off, was not to be thought of, and long those debts distressed his heart, and dragged heavily on his means. But at last all were paid, and he was beginning to think of relaxing the economy so long persevered in, when a time of great trouble swept over the commerce of the country, involving especially that branch of it from which he derived his income. One failure followed another among those with whom he transacted business, and involved him in their ruin. He struggled hard, worked alone, tried every means to meet his difficulties in time, but in vain.

Just then his mother's health broke down, and after a short illness, smiling her last blessing on her devoted son, she passed away in peace. One only thought reconciled him to the loss, after meekly bending to God's sovereign will, and that was her exemption from even the knowledge of his altered circumstances; and it seemed less hard now to give up the struggle and submit.

Henry was then obliged to acquaint his sisters with the real state of things, and to bear their tender reproofs for keeping them so long in ignorance. They planned now for helping both themselves and him, and with a sore heart he suffered them to go to work. Nothing remained but to give up all he could lawfully call his own, and begin life as it were again, while his sisters, his true-hearted wife and her children together taxed their powers for earning daily bread.

He was considering the least trying method of carrying out his design on his way to the office, which he purposed closing that day, when he was accosted by an elderly gentleman.

"May I take the liberty of asking," said he, presently, "if these terrible shocks have reached you, Mr. Bently ?"

Henry candidly admitted that they had.

"I feared so, from little things that I have heard, and should be very glad if I could be of any service to you. Shall we talk it over together? I have never forgotten your payment of your father's debt to me; and though ] confess I did not care for him, nor for you either, until I got a clearer view of the principles that influenced you, I cannot rest without offering any assistance in my power at a time when I doubt not that difficulties beset you.'

Henry, grateful and surprised, accompanied Mr. C— to his office, and told him how matters stood, and the resolution to which he had come.

"I think this is right," said he; "it will be long before things go smoothly again in this branch of trade, and it may not be worth your while to wait. Excuse me-your

father's debts are

"All paid," said Henry, "and any dishonour must now fall on my name and not on his.”

"And your good mother?"

"She rests in heaven; she left us last week not knowing anything of all this."

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"And you have a family of your own yet to educate—” My wife and sisters will not neglect that, nor shall I if able to remain with them; but I purpose seeking employment any where that I can hope to find it."

"And excuse me for reminding you of another possession more important than all. You have a God and Saviour in heaven, who will not suffer the righteous to be forsaken, nor his seed to beg their bread. Mr. Bently, the son who so honoured his father's name and memory, so cherished an aged mother, so protects his orphan sisters, cannot, must not, sink beneath trials like these. Will you now carry out the plans you mention, and which I think are right and wise, and within the week call on me again, unless I get impatient and send for you before."

Henry knew where to render thanks for this unexpected sympathy, and retired much cheered at heart, to execute his painful, and in some sort, as none can help feeling, humiliating duty.

When he was gone Mr. C-stuck his pen behind his ear, and his hands in his pockets, and walked up and down his private office, apparently intent upon the pattern of the floor-cloth; but in reality contemplating mentally the portion of a pattern, which, viewed on the right side, made

up a graceful form; but viewed on the wrong, like the weaver's carpet, looked very queer and incomprehensible.

"Yes, it is not by accident-it all fits in wonderfully," he said to himself, "and what have I to do? It is certainly God's plan, and I have nothing to do but just follow his bidding. It cannot but be that a man with principles such as Bently's is the very man required."

Then Mr. C- sat down and wrote letters-next he took a long journey, and made a very great purchase. Shortly afterwards he was attended in his office by a very wealthy individual who sought to possess himself of that purchase by a liberal offer; but in addition to the price, Mr. C-| | had attached a condition to his sale.

"I shall not cavil at your condition, sir, if your friend is equal to the post; for the former agent is dead, and some one must needs be appointed at once.'

"That he is equal to it, his books will soon prove in the financial department, and his history will satisfy you in the moral point."

"Then the sooner you introduce us the better; a man of right principle will find himself in no mean position at the head of the management of that property."

Mr. C knew that, and rejoiced himself in the success of his plan, which forthwith he set off to communicate to the object of it.

Henry Bently was in his small but well-selected library, arranging his books for the auctioneer; one of his children was making the list as he named them, and Anna with a calm and placid brow was leading two younger ones by the hand to receive his kiss and blessing ere they went to rest. Anna had no nurse, but for some time past had been the nurse, governess and sempstress of the family-two other very little ones were already asleep, and these had been enjoying the privilege of helping papa" with the books.

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It was a pleasant though a painful scene. Love, and peace, and resignation made it pleasant; but it was a break up; and though the love and submission would remain, the hearts which enshrined those soothers of sorrow were anticipating separation, privation, and many a rough step in the future pathway.

Mr. Chad followed the 'little "maid of all work" as she went to announce a visitor, and his eye and heart at once took in the whole.

2

"Ha!" he muttered within himself, "it's very well 1 didn't see this before, or I might have taken upon me to put a finger in the pie, instead of just doing the simple thing laid before me; it's all right, and just in time."

It were needless to detail how Mr. C- had received knowledge of a valuable and extensive property on sale, how he had purchased it to sell again, with the power to nominate the new agent at a handsome salary, which exceeded the proceeds of Harry Bently's business for some years past; how he had made over the difference between the sum for which he purchased, and that for which he sold it, to the new agent, to meet immediate demands, and save the household furniture; how he connected this providential occurrence with the past conduct of a dutiful and affectionate son, and left the grateful ones to their happily I changed prospects, and earnest thanksgivings, while he went home to his own fireside with a lighter heart and a brighter spirit than he had conceived possible to enjoy at = his time of life. But the prayer and blessing of those whom we befriend in time of need, do make a pleasant and healthy atmosphere for the "liberal soul" that "deviseth liberal things."

And it was "good measure pressed down, and running over," that Harry Bently received into his bosom. His children grew up around him, obedient, affectionate, and attentive, and according to their ability, and the opportunities afforded them, rendered unto him again as he had rendered to his parents before them.

PRAYER AND PAINSTAKING.

If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me."Psa. Ixvi. 18.

"Watch ye and pray, lest ye enter into temptation."-Mark xiv. 38. Ir is a great mistake to imagine that prayer will avail, without corresponding exertion. God has connected the end with the use of the means; and if we neglect the one, it is presumptuous to hope for the other. Will praying to be enabled to understand the Scriptures give that understanding, without studying them and meditating upon their sacred contents? Will praying that our faith may be strengthened, strengthen it, while we neglect to make use of the instruments of spiritual stability? Will praying for holiness make us holy, while we deliberately walk in the

paths of unholiness? Can a parent hope that his prayers for his children will be of any benefit, if he is not adding his exertions to his wishes; if he is not bringing them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, guarding them from the snares of youthful life, and setting before them a Christian example? Is it to any purpose that we entreat to be kept from temptation when we are voluntarily running into it; or that we pray against worldly mindedness, when we choose worldly minded companions; or that we seek for the guidance and consolation of the Holy Spirit in words, when in our conduct we are grieving him by wilful impenitence and inconsistency?

The truth is, that care, and vigilance, and self-control, and self-denial, and self-examination, are as necessary as prayer; neither without the other is sufficient. We readily allow this in our temporal concerns. When we pray for our daily bread, we do not expect to procure it without corresponding exertion. Prayer," remarks a pious writer, "will not plough one's field, nor fence it, nor reap the grain, nor thresh it; but prayer may procure strength to labour, and a blessing to accompany and succeed our prudent industry." And it is thus in religion; God does everything that is good for us; but he expects us to make use of the appointed instruments of spiritual blessing as much as though we did every thing for ourselves. He graciously preserves us from many an unseen peril; but if, instead of using the means of prevention, we wilfully put our foot into the snare, we cannot hope that he will interpose to prevent our being entangled. We are to watch as well as to pray that we enter not into temptation; we are to keep at a distance from it: we are to employ every effort to resist it; and if we neglect to do this, are we to wonder if we fall? Moses, and the people of Israel, did well to cry unto God in their extremity; but they did ill in neglecting the means of escape which he had set before them; and their supineness was accordingly rebuked by the Almighty: "Wherefore criest thou unto me? Speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward," Exod. xiv. 15.

When Luther first set himself against the torrent of idolatry and corruption, in the year 1517, assuming a task, to human view, as hopeless as for a man to set his shoulder to a mountain to remove it, he communicated his intentions to a wise and prudent friend, who had as deep a sense of