2nd. Will not a less expensive one answer the same purpose? 3rd. If not absolutely necessary, though desirable, can we really afford it? These three simple questions properly attended to, remembering the maxim of Franklin, "Never spend a penny where a halfpenny will do," will, with the assistance of that Being who never forsakes those who put their trust in him, enable us to live honestly, honourably, and respectably through life. And what are the richest viands, or the finest clothing, with a guilty conscience, the execration of tradesmen and their ruined children, compared with the honest enjoyment of the necessaries of life, accompanied with a peaceful conscience and the blessings of our fellow-creatures? A DREADFUL DEATH-BED. A BIOGRAPHY has just appeared of the late Dr. Mackness, in which, among many interesting things, there is an account of the death-bed of an individual, whose history forms an awful warning to all Young Men. The narrative is the following: When I was living in a populous manufacturing town, one day, on returning home, I found waiting in the surgery a man named Humphreys, a stranger to me. He complained of being unwell, and described the symptoms of what appeared to be a common bilious affection. I prescribed the usual remedies, and dismissed him, desiring him to call again and let me know how he was. The next time he called he said that he was not at all better. I thought this strange, and put several close questions to him as to his manner of life. I drew from him the admission that his habits were intemperate; I cautioned him strongly on this point, and ordered him carefully to abstain from all spirituous drinks. He came again in a few days, with a face full of anxiety and alarm, and said, 'Oh, doctor, I am no better; I don't mind money; I will give you any sum if you will but cure me." I inquired if he had followed my advice to abstain from spirituous liquors. He was obliged to confess he had not. Well," I said, "your recovery turns on that single point; you must not touch a drop of anything stronger than tea, or I will not answer for the consequences." He promised me; but, alas! the tyrant vice to which he had enslaved himself was not to be so baffled; he had to pass a gin-shop on his way back; he went in, and returned to his home intoxicated. The next time he called upon me I was compelled to tell him that the disease had made such fearful progress, that I could give him little or no hope. A short time after this I was sent for to see him. I found him in a wretched lodging, attended upon by a miserable, haggard-looking woman, his wife, with scarce a comfort or anything decent about her. Yet this man was a journeyman currier, receiving excellent wages, of which, indeed, he gave his wretched partner a share scarcely sufficient for common necessaries. A few months before the time when he came to me, a legacy of £100, or thereabouts, had been paid to him. Upon receiving the news of this, he flung down his tools, declaring that he would "have a spree," which of course meant, drinking to excess. From this period he never did another stroke of work. His time was spent in the ginshop or the public-house, and he had so squandered away his legacy, that when he died, nearly two-thirds were spent. After hearing these particulars, and examining my patient, whom I found in a dreadful state, he having, even when confined to his bed, compelled his wife, by the most awful imprecations, to bring him liquor, I talked to him with all the earnestness I could, of the great danger he was in of death, both temporal and eternal, and went away promising to send a minister of the Gospel. When, however, Mr. went, he took but little notice of him, but continued clamorous for spirits. At last I one day received an urgent summons to him. He called me to his bed-side (we were alone), and said, "Doctor, you have been very kind to me, you have given me good advice, 1 both for body and soul, and I now ards.) "Now, if you know of anywant you to grant me one favour." I thing which will kill me at once, I enpromised I would, if I could do it with treat you to give it me; no one will propriety. He wanted me to promise know it, and it will be the greatest him unreservedly, but that I refused. favour you can do me." I told him "Well, then," said he, "I know there the utter impossibility of my being is no hope for me; I must die, and it guilty of such a crime, but promised cannot much matter whether I die a to send him something of a soothing little sooner or later. You have talked nature, and urged him to seize the to me, doctor, of the glories of heaven, short moments allowed to him to seek and the pains of hell; but not for the mercy of God. I called the next heaven itself would I go through the morning; the shutters were closed, and horrors of such another night as II was told that he died a few hours passed last night; hell itself cannot before, after passing a night, if posbe worse than what I then suffered." sible, more dreadful than the pre(His disease was delirium tremens, that ceding. dreadful and common end of drunk The Fragment Basket. WHAT TO DO, AND HOW TO DO IT. The remark of Rev. John Newton, below, deserves to be written on the tablet of every heart: "I see in this world," he observes, "two heaps,-one of human happiness, and one of misery; now, if I can take but the smallest bit from the second heap, and add to the first, I carry a point. If, as I go home, a child has dropped a halfpenny, and if, by giving it another, I can wipe away its tears, I feel that I have done something. I should be glad, indeed, to do great things, but I will not neglect such little ones as this." These little things are what we all can do, and we should encourage ourselves with the thought, that "The drying up a single tear hath more Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore." THE DYING DEACON'S PRAYER. He had long been faithful and exemplary as a Christian, and now he lay upon the bed of death. He felt, and the physician assured him, that the close of his life was at hand, and in a few short hours he must enter eternity. His minister came in to see him; and as he was about to depart, proposing prayer, he asked for what he should pray-if there was any particular petition he wished him to offer. The answer of the good old man was, 'Pray for me the first three petitions of the Lord's Prayer: Hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."" NUMBER ONE. One hour lost in the morning by lying in bed, will put back all the business of the day. One hour gained by rising early, is worth one month in a year. One hole in the fence will cost ten times as much as it will to fix it at once. One diseased sheep will spoil a flock. One unruly animal will teach all others in company bad tricks; and the Bible says, "One sinner destroyeth much good." One drunkard will keep a family poor, and make them miserable. One wife that is always telling how fine her neighbour dresses, and how little she can get, will look pleasanter if she talks about something else. One good Magazine and one good Newspaper are good things in every family. THE MISERY OF IDLENESS. Poetry. THE MISSIONARIES' DEPARTURE. BY MISS H. F. GOULD. THE Crown of thorns He wore, From every heathen isle : And we would count all else as loss, To all who will in Christ be free. They die, where rose, and palm, And cassia flourish fair, For want of Gilead's balm, And a Physician there : As forth we march to show The Lamb for sinners slain: His veins have pour'd the sacred streams, A Saviour's name to bear, To God our parting prayer : We leave our native shores, and know CHEMICAL MEDIATION. SOME Water and Oil And would not unite, Their grounds o'errun with sin and woe, As down in a glass they were dropping; We go with light and life to sow. While in that distant field. To serve our heavenly King, Of faith we bear the shield, And of salvation sing: His banner o'er us will be love, But continued to fight, Without any prospect of stopping. Some Pearlash o'erheard, He jump'd in the midst of the clashing; And united with speed, The Children's Gallery. THE JUNGLE BOY. MANY years ago, a lady sat in the verandah of her Burmese house, endeavouring to decipher the scarcely legible characters of a palm-leaf book, which lay in all its awkwardness upon the table before her. As she bent over her book a little more wearily than in the freshness of the morning, and made a renewed effort to fix her eyes on the dizzying circles, a strangelooking figure bounded through the opening in the hedge which served as a gateway, and rushing towards her with great eagerness inquired, "Does Jesus Christ live here?" ton disposed in the most slovenly manner about his person. "Does Jesus Christ live here?" he inquired, scarcely pausing for breath, though slackening his pace a little as he made his way, uninvited, up the steps of the verandah, and crouched at the lady's feet. "What do you want of Jesus Christ?" inquired the lady. "I want to see him-I want to confess to him." "Why, what have you been doing that you want to confess-?" "Does he live here?"-with great He was a boy perhaps of twelve emphasis-"I want to know that. Doyears of age; his coarse black hair, ing? Why, I tell lies, I steal, I do unconfined by the usual turban, matted everything bad-I am afraid of going with filth, and bristling in every direc- to hell, and I want to see Jesus Christ, tion like the quills of a porcupine; for I heard one of the Loo-gyees say and a very dirty cloth of plaided cot-that he can save us from hell. Does he live here? Oh, tell me where I the little hollow by the bridge, to witcan find Jesus Christ." "But he does not save people from hell, if they continue to do wickedly.' "I want to stop doing wickedly, but I can't stop-I don't know how to stop-the evil thoughts are in me, and the bad deeds come of evil thoughts. What can I do?" "Nothing, but to come to Christ, poor boy, like all the rest of us," the lady softly murmured; but she spoke this last in English, so the boy only raised his head with a vacant "B' halai ?" "You cannot see Jesus Christ now-" She was interrupted by a sharp, quick cry of despair. ness a solemn baptism; then a new face was seen among those who came to commemorate the dying love of the Lord Jesus; and a new name was written on the church records. Years passed away. Death had laid his hand upon the gentle lady, and she had gone up to that sweet home where pain and sorrow are unknown, and where "the weary are at rest." On earth, another death scene was enacting. A strong, dark-browed man tossed wildly on his fevered couch in an agony of physical suffering; but even then his unconscious lips murmured continually those precious fragments of Scripture which he had trea "But I am his humble friend and sured up in days of health. At last follower-" there came a fearful struggle-then The face of the listener brightened the convulsed features relaxed, the a little. "And he has commissioned me to teach all those who wish to escape from hell how to do so." The joyful eagerness depicted in the poor boy's countenance was beyond description. "Tell me-oh, tell me! Only ask your Master, the Lord Jesus Christ, to save me, and I will be your servant, your slave, for life. Do not be angry! Do not send me away! I want to be saved-saved from hell!" The lady, you will readily believe, was not likely to be angry. Even the person who told me the story many years after, was more than once interrupted by his own choking tears. The next day a new pupil was wel comed to the little bamboo schoolhouse, in the person of the wild Karen boy; for no missionary having yet been sent especially to that people, they received all their religious instructions through the medium of the Burmese language. And oh, such a greedy seeker after truth and holiness! Every day he came to the white teachers to learn something more concerning the Lord Jesus Christ, and the way of salvation; and every day his mind seemed to open, his feelings to enlarge, and his face to lose some portion of that indescribable look of stupidity which characterises the uncultivated native. ghastliness of death settled upon them, and the spirit seemed to have taken its flight. Suddenly, however, the countenance of the dying man was lighted with a heavenly radiance, his lips parted a smile, his eye emitted a single joyful flash, before it turned cold and motionless for ever; and then the wild boy of the jungle was welcomed by his waiting angel-guide, to the presence of that Saviour whom he had sought with such eagerness. HOW TO BE WISE. A GREAT many years ago there was a little boy whose father was a heathen, but who had a pious mother and grandmother. In those days there were no printed books; and as all the books had to be written with a pen, there were very few books to be had. You may suppose then that it must have been no easy thing for this little boy to learn to read. But he did learn to read. Let us go back eighteen hun. dred and forty years, and look in upon that family. We do not see the father. He might have been there, but we do not know. But we see there two ladies and a little boy. One is a motherly old lady, casting a kind, encouraging look upon the little boy, as the mother unrolls before him a large parchment, and directs his attention to the chaIn due time, a sober band of wor-racters written upon it. And when he shippers gathered around the pool in tires, she stops and reads to him the story of Cain and Abel, of Abraham, of Joseph, of David and Goliath, of Ruth, or of Esther; and his eyes brighten as she proceeds, till at length he calls to her, "Stop, mother! teach me the letters again, that I too may read these pretty stories." And thus he proceeds, till he masters his letters and learns to read. This little boy had none of the simple story-books that are now printed for children. But he had his grandmother's roll, containing Moses and the Prophets; and these he read and re-read, till he had them by heart, and could tell every story they contain, repeat every precept of the law, and rehearse those beautiful Psalms composed by the "sweet singer of Israel," while following his father's flocks in the mountains of Judea. But what good did all this do him? I will tell you. In consequence of his knowing the Holy Scriptures when he was a child, his name has come down to us to this day; and all the Christians that have lived since his day, for eighteen hundred years, have known and honoured his name. He became a Christian minister, the companion of the Apostle Paul, a missionary, and the pastor of one of the first churches in all Asia. And now he sits among the holy Apostles, the honourable and the great ones, in the kingdom of the Lord Jesus. He chose the true wisdom, a knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, which made him wise unto salvation. And the same knowledge is able to do the same for the little boys who read this. If you learn and obey the Holy Scriptures, they will make you wise unto salvation. They will lay the foundation of a character that will make you useful and happy. You may, like him, become a minister of the Gospel; and the prophet Daniel says, They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever." THE CHILD'S DREAM. I WENT to-day, dear Mother, to And then I wish'd I were a bird, And there I dreamt a dream; She lives in endless day." And soon we reach'd the heavenly place, And when they sung their songs of joy, A I I crown of gold was on her head, Her robes were spotless white; scarce could look upon her face, Down through the air so clear; It was a dream, but I had seen Her beautiful array. Glasgow. ROBERT FRAME. THE PRETTY BEE. PRETTY bee, pray tell me why |