Doing Without.

In this world we want many things that we cannot have. This disappointing state of affairs is met by different people in very different ways. Some are soured and spoiled; they think of little besides the treasures for which they long, and allow the blessings they possess to sink into insignificance beside those which are desired. Others far wiser and happier yield their wills to circumstances. They cannot have what they wish for, and so they make themselves happy without.

There is no doubt but that this ability to yield cheerfully to what cannot be altered would do as much as anything to lighten the load of life. Thousands are miserable simply because they are discontented. And they are so not because the necessities of life are denied them, but because they have not certain things which,—if they did not so wish for them,-they would be just as well without as with. The age we live in fosters eager desires after certain possessions difficult to attain, especially those of wealth and pleasure. Men and women spend, and are spent, in this strife; and, if they fail, as so many do, they think life itself is scarcely worth the having. If only they could keep their desires under control, contentment would take the place of disappointment, peace would succeed to struggle, and rest to feverishness.

The real worth of a thing is just the value we put upon it. In a room of a certain nobleman's mansion is a marvellous collection of china, antique, rare, and almost priceless. Many a lover of such treasures has lost himself in admiration of the beautiful specimens of the art of many countries and many times which are gathered together there, and has felt more than a little envy and sorrow that he has not the same means of gratifying his taste as has the owner of that room. Once some children, with their friends, were inspecting the house. A little lady, aged about eight, upon entering the "china room," glanced round very indifferently, and, seeing the plates, cups, and basons which were placed about the walls, said, "I suppose this is the kitchen!" and passed on to more

interesting subjects. The kitchen, indeed! As if those plates and cups were ever used for purposes of eating and drinking! Everybody smiled at the child's mistake; but one could not help wondering whether any person were the better or happier for a more discriminating taste.

"If ignorance is bliss, 'twere folly to be wise."

If our capacity for admiring beautiful objects only causes us to be dissatisfied because we cannot possess them, is that capacity such an enviable quality, and does it render us as really superior to other people, as we in our vanity like to think?

But it is not necessary that we should be either ignorant or lacking in refined taste in order to be submissive under deprivation. A little common sense and true philosophy, built upon trust in God, are all that are essential to teach us that needlessly difficult lesson of doing without. A man passing a morning at an exhibition of pictures, sees one that strikes him very forcibly. It is a splendid painting, every inch of it is perfect, and the subject is one that appeals to the heart of the gazer. He longs to possess it: he would never be tired of looking at it, it would always be a valued treasure. Well, if he can afford it he has a right to buy it. But if he cannot, what should he do? He should walk away to look at the next picture, and so forget if he can his desire. But even if he cannot forget it he should not allow himself to be made miserable by its absence. If he be a sensible man he will remember that it is not necessary either for his health or happiness. He can live as well and be as merry without as he could with it, and all he has to do is to submit to going without what he cannot get. It is the same all the way from a a large fortune down to a new hat. Nothing really matters if only we can bring our minds to quiet submission and yield to circumstances, or (which is the better way of putting the same thing) to the kind and unerring will of God.

Paul was very far advanced when he said, "I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content." We wonder how long it had taken him to get to that happy condition of mind. No doubt he found the lesson hard to learn, but we may be very sure that it was worth all the

cost to get it perfectly. We are in the same school as that to which Paul belonged, and have the same teachers. Cannot we learn too? It is really worth while to try. The cares of life would not vex us, nor its disappointments fret us. We would be calm whatever came, and not only calm but happy. Surely if we look up and say, "Our Father who art in heaven," we mightly gladly, or at least submissively, do without what He in wisdom denies us.

Eups of Cold Water.

Of course, there are plenty of people who, when they wish to give, are not restricted to cold water-wine, tea, anything you like to ask for, is at their disposal.

But that is no reason why we should hide away our pitcher and cup, and sullenly feel that because we cannot do much, therefore we will not do little.

Besides, is not a cup of cold water very often more valuable than a cup of anything else could possibly be? And who shall say that he who has only that to give is not as much a benefactor as he who has so much more?

We often hear a remark uttered in tones of gratitude, not unmingled with surprise, "Ah, he is a grand man, he possesses both the means and the will to do good, and it is well when they go together."

But really they always do go together, or if not then it is certainly the will, and never the means, which is missing. Some people are foolish enough to envy others. "If I only had his abilities and opportunities, how much good I would do!"

Well, we cannot exactly tell what weights and measures are used when good works are tested, but we can remember the widow's mite, and we can guess that the rich man who subscribes his hundred guineas to some charitable institution is of very little more use in the world than the poor man who works hard all day and gives a couple of hours every evening to the instruction of lads whose edu

cation has been neglected in consequence of their having been sent to work as soon as they had attained the age of five years. If you are a gentleman you can send a cheque to the Missionary Society; if you are a poor man you can invite your neighbour to come from his comfortless room and take a seat by your fireside while you tell him what you have learnt of Him who came to give peace, and joy, and rest to the weary and heavy laden. If you are a lady you can send a plate of savoury food or a bunch of grapes to the suffering invalid, and if you are a poor woman you can re-make the hard bed, and brighten the dark room, and quiet the crying baby. And who shall say which gift is the more acceptable?

Let none of us try to persuade ourselves that we have not the means and the ability to do good; we have any number of cups of cold water at our disposal if we only have the will to distribute them.

It is not possible to decide as to what gifts are in themselves the most valuable. It depends so much upon circumstances. You may give a man a sovereign, and it may happen to be the thing he was most of all in need of. Or you may take his hand in your own, and give him a few hearty, kind words, and they may be more precious and more fruitful than silver or gold. There are moments in life when the earth is barren and the scorched sands are intolerable, when the lips are parched and life is nothing but a fever, and then a cup of cold water is of priceless value. There are days in life when the heart is faint and weary, and the pain and sorrow are almost too much to be borne, and then the touch of a loving hand, the memory of tender wc rds, and the glance of wistful eyes full of sympathy are more precious than anything else in the wide world. Oh, do not hesitate to give the cup of cold water; it looks weak, and common, and almost valueless, but there may be strength, healing, ay, even salvation in it.

"If I only had the ability I would do good." Oh, say not so. If you are young, how much light and joy you can bring to hearts that are old and world-weary. If you knew what gladness you can make in dark places, if you understood how your very presence and light, cheerful speech have power to turn evening into midday for those

who love you, you would not be so wholly occupied, even with your own happy life, as to forget to do your part.

And if you are old, your wisdom can teach the inexperienced such things as shall prevent them from suffering and disappointment in the future.

Whoever and whatever we are, we can surely do something. If we have, indeed, nothing but a cup of cold water, let us give it gracefully and lovingly, “in the name of a disciple." Let us be

"Content to fill a little space

If God be glorified."

No Letters!

THE longer we live the greater respect we must feel for our forefathers and foremothers. What wonderful people they were to be sure! They were not always discontented and grumbling, they had placid faces and unruffled tempers; they spoke cheerful words in a cheerful tone; they loved and hoped, and laughed and sang; they ate and drank, and walked and enjoyed themselves, and yet there was no penny post, and often a whole month passed without bringing so much as a single letter!

Talk about the repose, and self-control, and heroism of the present day; why they are nowhere in comparison with those wonderful qualities which our great-grandparents must have possessed to have enabled them to bear their deprivations in anything like a Christian spirit. If we contrast their power of endurance with our own fretful, impatient eagerness even alone in this matter of letterreceiving, there is nothing for us to do but hide our heads in shame.

For who does not know that it is almost more than modern human nature can bear to be quiet and dignified while waiting for a letter? How slowly the time goes, how the hands of the clock creep towards the hour at which the little black and white messenger is due. How