BEL

BELIEVING.

ELIEVING on Jesus is looking to him for salvation. You see that poor weeping widow. When I ask her what ails her, she tells me she is behind with her rent, and her landlord threatens to turn her to the door, unless she can pay her debt, and find security for the next six months. So I tell her to dry her tears, and just look to me for the rent. How full of joy she is all at once! How cheerfully she works; and though she has not a penny laid by, she has no fear; and when asked, why? she says, "I am looking to him, for he bade me; and I know he will not fail me. What he promised is just as sure as if I had it in hand." my

.

Now, believing on Jesus is something like this. If I might so speak, it is the heart's look to Jesus-a single glance, indeed, at first, and yet a constant looking to him ever after.

A good man once said, "Mark how simple the way of salvation is. It is, Look,

"NONE OTHER NAME."

Nor long ago a little crowd might be seen on the bridge of the canal, in the City Road, London, looking at, and listening to, a blind old man.

Poor fellow! there he sat, his useless eyeballs moving restlessly to and fro, and his fingers touching the raised letters of a book which lay open on his knees. He was seeking a livelihood by reading portions of the Bible; and day

after day his voice was heard reafter day his voice was heard repeating chapters of God's blessed word.

On the occasion to which we refer, by some accident he lost his place. While trying to find it, he kept repeating the last three words, "None other name-none other name-none other name." Some of the spectators watched him with pity; others waited, curious to see how he would overcome his difficulty; boys laughed at the occurrence as a joke.

Just at this time, however, a gentleman on his way home from of group business, observing the people, joined them, just as the poor man repeated the words, "None other name." He passed on. The familiar language was like a special message from God to him! Nothing could have been more timely. He had lately become convinced of sin, and was earnestly seeking peace with God. His efforts, however, were vain. New resolutions, changed habits,

religious exercises, were all tried; but each proved ineffectual. But the verse of which the beggar reminded him, like a sudden flash of light, showed him in a moment the error into which he had fallen. He had been endeavouring to obtain salvation by his own works. His conduct was based on "I see

self-righteousness.

it; I see it all now!" cried he, joyfully. "I have been seeking deliverance by my own works. I see my mistake. It is Jesus alone who can save me. I will look to him; for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved" (Acts iv. 12).

God looks down upon them with an eye of favour who look up to him with an eye of faith.

True religion will show its influence in every part of our conduct; it is like the sap of a living tree which penetrates the most distant boughs.

Men dote on this world as if it would never have an end, and neglect preparing for the next as if it were never to have a beginning.

Wherever you go, or whatever you do, endeavour to carry with you a sense of God's presence, his holiness, and his love; it will preserve you from a thousand snares.

TRAVELLING TRADES IN CHINA.

THE

THE MONEY-CHANGER.-The Chinese have no gold or silver coin. Silver is generally divided into small bars, which the merchantseach of whom carries a small pair of scalescan cut into morsels, as they choose, in order to make their payments exact. The only coin legally current in China is a small copper one, about the size of our farthing, and has a hole in the middle. The man in the picture is testing a foreign coin, which he has been asked to change for its value in copper coins, some of which are seen threaded on his table.

THE SWAN-PAN. - This machine is a kind of table divided into two compartments, crossed by tightlystrained threads of catgut or wire, little balls or bullets being strung on each wire. By means of this instrument any amount can be quickly calculated. The Chinese shopkeepers have no figures, but mark the prices in words on the articles they sell.

BASKET-MAKER.-Perhaps no other nation equals the Chinese in the art of making baskets. Some are made of split bamboo, some of osiers, and some of the platted bark of trees, or the coloured straw of the rice-plant, and ornamented with a variety of beautiful patterns. The common Chinese basket will hold water without leaking, and serves for a pail or bucket, as well as a basket.

THE LANTERN MERCHANT.-In every city, at every port, and on every river and canal, as soon as night comes on, the lanterns make their appearance. They are hung out at the door of every dwelling, and swing in rows along the shop fronts; they cluster round the homes of the rich, and light up the hovels of

the poor. They are made of various materials, from paper and horn to silk and crystal. Any person leaving his house after dark without a lantern is liable to be arrested.

THE WANDERING MUSICIAN.-The stock-intrade of the travelling musician consists of a mat to spread upon the ground, and his box of instruments, which also serves as a seat when he performs. His performance is anything but a sham; he sings, and accompanies himself on a kind of guitar; at the same time, with his

varied collection of articles, such as cloths, silks, cottons, tobacco-purses, pipes, bobbins, twine, etc. He builds himself up, as it were, in a kind of framework of bamboo, on the bars of which he hangs out his goods for sale.

THE PIPE MERCHANT.-In China there are almost as many smokers as inhabitants. Men of all ranks and ages, women, and even children, may be seen pipe in mouth. The practice of smoking dates from the earliest times.

seedling flowers to a warm situation, if it has not been already done. Any flowering shrubs or evergreens should be pruned. Hardy deciduous shrubs may be planted this month, as also evergreens.

Vegetables.- In spare time the ground may be dug over; if the soil be of a clayey nature, let it be laid up roughly in ridges, so that it can readily be acted upon and tempered by the weather. In the

spring these ridges can be laid flat, when the good effects of this plan of digging the earth will be found apparent in the condition of the soil. It has been well said that two good diggings are equal

to one manuring; and labour is never better bestowed than in this direction. Earth up celery for the last time. A few rows of beans and peas may be

sown about the third week in the month. Cover them when you sow them about an inch deep with ashes, which will tend to preserve them from frost.

Fruit. Be careful, in pruning your vines, to leave a proper supply of the last year's shoots to produce fruit next year. In shortening the shoots, be careful to cut them about half an inch above the joint, with a sloping cut. Transplant plums, nectarines, cherries, and prune those against walls or espaliers. Standard apples, pears, etc., may be planted; and gooseberries and currants pruned or planted. Raspberry beds may be formed, and the plants pruned. The Window.-Violets, Chinese primroses, and a few other early spring flowering plants, are now sole occupants of the window. Hyacinths placed in glasses should have the water changed once or twice a week; those placed in pots last month should be brought close to the light. Give chrysanthemums in pots plenty of water while in bloom; and when their flowers of decline, let them be taken to a warm part the garden to complete their growth.

THE ORPHANS' CHRISTMAS

EVE.

HICK and fast the snow-flakes
fell

Through the quiet air,
Christmas day will find the snow
Lying everywhere.
Lying in the busy street,

On the road-side hedge,
On the roof of every house,
On each window-ledge.

It was falling, falling still,
All the eventide,

Till each gleaming lamp was lit
Through the city wide;
Till from many a window pane,
Flashed the flickering glow
Of the blazing Christmas fires
On the sparkling snow ;-
Till the Christmas bells rang out,
Clear, and full, and loud,
Waking echoes in each heart,

Through the hurrying crowd;
Waking hopes of pleasant hours
In the coming day,

For it was the Christmas time
When each heart was gay.
But from one small garret room
Came not laugh, nor light,
Silent passed the heavy hours
Of that Christmas night.
For the time had only brought
To the dwellers there

Many a sad and anxious thought,
Many a heavy care.

Thoughts of bygone Christmas days

With her husband passed, Most, of that a year ago,

Which had been the last, Came to make the widow sad; And she said beside,

"I can't think what we shall eat All this Christmas-tide.

"I can't think what we shall do

When to-morrow comes,
Other people will be gay,

In their happy homes,
But we have no bread, nor coal
For a fire all day,
Then the rent is coming due,
And I cannot pay.
"Little Johnny looks so thin,
He has grown so still,
And he never cares to play,
I'm afraid he's ill.

It is just for want of food;
And the others too,
Shiver in those poor old clothes,
With their elbows through."
Little May came silently

To her mother's side,
"Mother, don't you fret for us,
Jesus will provide.
He has promised he will feed
All who ask for food;
I ata sure he'll keep his word,
For he is so good.
"And, please mother, will you let
Me and Charlie go,
Just to sing the song we learnt
At the school you know?
Folks are kind at Christmas time,
Nobody can tell,

But that we may earn some pence,
And some food as well."

Tears came in the mother's eyes,

As she looked at May.
"Well, my darling child, perhaps
'Tis the only way.

You shall go, but wear my shawl,
It will make you warm,
And keep close to Charlie's side,
So you take no harm."
Forth into the silent night,
Forth into the snow,
Bravely on, and hopefully,

Did the children go,
And the happy Christmas bells
Seemed to them to ring,
Loud and clear, the very tune
That they meant to sing.
Charlie's steady, earnest voice

Rose in ancient rhyme,
Telling how the Christ was born
In the Christmas time.
May's sweet accents trembled so,
You could hardly hear,
Till she thought of what she sang,
And forgot her fear.

'Twas the carol angels bright

Sang so long ago,
Over Bethlehem's hills by night,

'Neath the moonbeam's glow. 'Twas the song the shepherds heard That first Christmas tide; Now its echoes fill the world, Sounding far and wide. Angels' song from children's lips, Falteringly it rose;

It was very cold that night, 'Mid the bitter snows.

It was very hard to sing

When they were so faint;
May crept close to Charlie's side,
But made no complaint.
Many heard the Christmas song
That the children sang,
As along the silent street

Their sweet voices rang.
Happy mothers sat within

By their firesides bright,
With no thought of those outside
In the cold dark night.
Listening to these pleasant sounds,
To these voices dear,
Many heard the children's song

With a careless ear;
Turned away to other things,
With no thought of those
Who were wandering wearily

'Mid the blinding snows.

Yet the God who heard the songs
Of the Seraphim-
Those who sang at eventide

The first Christmas hymn-
Listened just as tenderly

To earth's lower lays;
Heard each word of hope and joy,
Every song of praise.

And amid the music fair

Circling round his throne, God, the Father, bent his ear

To the children's tone; Heard how all the while they sang Their low prayer was said, "Father, help us both to sing,

And to earn some bread."
Hearing thus the simple prayer

That the children prayed,
Did He prove his promise true,
And send down his aid.

Some one opened a house door,
Lighting up the gloom,
Called the shivering children in
To a cheerful room.

There was such a blazing fire

Making brightness there, Glancing on the holly boughs Put up everywhere; And the children round the fire Smiled, and looked so kind, That both Charles and little May Left their fear behind. Then a lady asked them both What had brought them there, Why they wandered out at night In the wintry air; So they told her everything,

All about their home,
And she said, "I know the place,
I'll be sure to come.
"Do you know how Jesus came
Just to help us here,
How he bore the griefs of those

Whom he came to cheer?
He will help you, if you ask,
In your troubles too;
He has put it in my heart,

Dears, to comfort you.

"I am very grieved to see

Children forced to go

In the streets, on such a night,
'Mid the wind and snow.
You were right, no doubt, to try
To do what you could,
But you might find other ways,
Surely, if you would.
"Now, my boy, if I could get

Work for you to do,
Would you try and do it well,

And be good and true?
You'll have a long time to wait

Till you are a man, Don't you think you'd best begin, And do all you can?"

Back through street, and lane, and court,

To the steps they ran;
And, before they reached the top,
Both their tale began.
Thus, with talking both at once,
Talking very fast,

Telling each thing over twice,
They got through at last.
Almost ere the mother's heart
Could receive the joy,

She had seized the bread and meat
For her sinking boy.
Then they knelt, and sent their thanks
Up to God in heaven,
Praising him for all the good
That his love had given.
For the promise and the hope
Made the widow glad,
And the day she dreaded so
Was no longer sad;
All the children were so gay

With their Christmas cheer, That they wished that Christmas came More than once a year.

And they learnt afresh from this
How God answers prayer,
That for those who trust in him
He will surely care;
That his promise shall be kept
Though all else may fail,
And an earnest trusting prayer
Always will prevail.

For the lady kept her word:

Ere the week was gone
She had found them out, and stood
In their humble home;
And she gave the mother work,
Little Charlie too,

He felt proud and like a man,
With so much to do.

And on other Christmas eves When the home was bright,

That was what we said,
So we thought we'd try to-night
For we had no bread.
Mother hardly seemed to like
May and I should go;
But, if I could get some work,

She'd like that, I know."
Then, before they went away,

They were warmed and fed,
And they carried home with them
Something more than bread.
They had money for a fire

To drive out the cold,
And a holly bough as large

As their hands could hold.

More than all, the kindly looks,
And the gentle voice,
The sweet words of hope and cheer,
Made their hearts rejoice.
Didn't little Charlie talk

All the snowy way,
"Oh! how glad I am we went;
"What will mother say?

"And the lady's sure to come
As she said she would;
Then, if she will get me work,
I. will earn the food.
It was kind of God to hear

What we children said;

I shall always go to him
When we have no bread."

That they lacked that night,
They would think of how they felt
While they wandered there,
And thank God, who answered then
Such a humble prayer.

And would say, "Though we are poor
We can do some good,
Fill some saddened heart with hope,
Some faint lips with food.
We must try this Christmas time
Love to all to show,
For the sake of Jesus Christ,
Who has loved us so."

Let us rightly keep this time,
With all kindly thought,
With all gentle words and deeds,
Such as Jesus wrought;
Whether we are rich or poor,
We can all impart
Love and joy to those around,
From a loving heart.

So God bless the Christmas time,
Bless us every one,
Make it holy with the thought
Of his holy Son;
Make it full of loving deeds
Our own hearts to bless,
And send down on one and all
His great happiness.

JOHN ROBINS'

ENEMIES AND FRIENDS.

KA

CONCLUSION.

ATE gave the notice, but she did not like the thought of living with her father altogether; he had altered of late; he had been so easy-never troubled himself to control anybody. This would have suited her. She had got too used to her own way and liberty, and too fond of what she called pleasure, to relish the idea of being thwarted.

So she wavered; and on the day when John had got a garret for her in the same house, she was walking slowly along, almost sorry that she had promised, when she saw a group of girls-her companions-standing reading something on the wall. It was a play-bill in great red letters, and a famous dancing girl was announced in it, with many other wonders. A picture of the girl, of a very unseemly kind, was at the top of the bill, and it greatly took the attention of Kate's friends.

Kate knew she must miss it if she went to live with her father, for he had told her so-not of that particular entertainment, but of all such– desiring her to remember her mother's fate, and the certainty of her following her in disease and death if she followed her in dissipation.

She paused; but one of the girls began to laugh, and said, "She's going to turn good, and live with her father!" upon which they all laughed.

It did not want much to make Kate decide on going, for all her inclinations were for it, and a little coaxing would have soon brought her to their mind; but she was not to be bullied into it-she turned angrily away, and said she should please herself.

In high displeasure, nevertheless, she walked home, and took her place opposite John's-he had not returned from work. She looked about her: the room was really quite comfortable; the cupboard had several good things in it, including the remainder of the seed-cake; the fire-place was blacked, if not polished, and she found the box nicely cleaned out.

She was not sorry that Polly Hartley had jeered her into her present quarters. "If they had spoken civilly I'd have gone with them," she said to herself," for she must be a beauty to see; and that rope-dancer, too, is so elegant-he is a most lovely man, certainly;" and a feeling of disappointment shot through her heart as she thought of the charms of the theatre.

John came home in the midst of her regrets; his hearty welcome was pleasant, but did not drive But away her sorrow for what she lost at once.

he was so determined to do his best to please her, that she could not be sullen, and the evening passed off very much better than she expected it would.

She assorted her things in the box, and then began to smarten up a hat with a piece of a feather, while John, having made up the fire, settled himself with his Bible.

Kate looked at him now and then, and at last began to yawn.

"How you seem to take to that," she said, pointing to the Bible.

"I have taken to it, and I hope to keep to it safe," said John.

The novelty of her life was an amusement to Kate; it was a diversion to her to find some little bit for dinner that she did not expect. John never upbraided her with doing nothing to help him; he did all he could to make the home comfortable, and anxiously sought to deprive her of any cause of complaint; the only sore was the confinement at night.

Again and again had she passed that picture of the beautiful dancer," who, seen by daylight without her paint and her finery, was something very far from a beauty; but Kate looked, and sighed, and longed, and at last determined to go.

It turned out a wet night; and Kate, who had determined to make the most of her pleasure, had stayed to dance after the play was over-got home at two in the morning, drenched and draggled with wet and mud. Her poor finery was an ill protection against such a storm as she had to pass through, and she was tired, for with all her brag and show of spirit she was not strong.

John had sat up, but was fast asleep in his chair. He roused himself-did not reproach her-hung up her wet shawl to dry, and gave her the blanket off his own bed to warm herself with, for she was cold and shivering. She went up to her garret in no very comfortable state, either of body or mind, her father's continual warning and the open grave would come back to her oftener than she liked.

The next morning she came down, looking very ill, but John had gone to his work and did not see her; she tried to go to hers, but was so giddy, had such pains in her head and limbs, she could not sit, and when he returned to dinner he found her lying on his bed in a flushed and highly excited state.

He had no hesitation now as to his course; he fetched the doctor, and then wrote to Nannie describing Kate's condition, and begging her to come, or else to let him take her to them as soon as she got better. The doctor said that a violent cold had brought on an attack to which Kate was constitutionally liable, and that unless she took great care of herself, she would go off in a decline.

Nannie was not long in making her appearance, but this time without Annie. "Safe bind, safe find," she said. Kate was sufficiently recovered by the time she arrived to be removed, and with much wrapping and care she was placed in the van. Nannie was delighted with the change in John's "place." Though he had had to nurse Kate in her sickness, there was, considering what the place was, a wonderful air of order, and comfort, and cleanliness, about it. She sat down without scruple, and ate her dinner without a wry face: it was very different now to the time of her first visit.

It was with a light heart that John, not now ashamed to be seen, helped Kate into the van with the promise of following her directly Nannie got him the certainty of country work.

"The doctor says for certain that if she stays in the town, another year or so will finish off Kate, and by that means, as she is terribly afraid to die,

66

"Oh, patience, granny; when she is well she will do nicely," said Annie. She is very clever, and I do believe she will become affectionate."

And her hopes were realised. Nobody, two years after, would have known Kate Robins, in her neat dress, and modest sensible appearance and countenance, to be the same flaunting, insolent, daring girl that had strutted about the street in her tawdry finery, with her wide-spread hoop, slit skirt, and ragged petticoat.

Another year and Annie was married to Morgan White, a highly respectable labouring man, whose industry, together with her own, enabled them in time to take a small farm; and Nannie was glad to have Kate and John in place of her lost child. She found the benefit of all her kindness to the family in the help that John now was to her in the Scriptures. The Bible was his constant study and constant delight. He had sought help to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest it, and was, indeed, by his lively piety, a blessing to the household.

Nothing more was heard of Jack for a long time, till his name was seen among some young men who were lost in a fever that broke out in one of the convict settlements. This was a thorn in John's side. He constantly mourned over his past guilt, and never ceased to press upon Annie and her husband the important duty of being a parent in the true sense of the word. "Make your children love you, and love your home; and let them know that you and they have but one interest. It is only in that way you can hope for a blessing in them, and look forward, without grief and shame, to meeting them in the great day."

Happily the advice was not needed by Annie, for a better trained, more prosperous, and peaceful family, never was seen in town or country-to the gladdening of all who knew them, and especially of good Nannie Barnet.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

OOD people all, both young and old,
Lift up your heart and voice;
Again the season is come round
That bids us all rejoice.

Rejoice aloud in early youth,
And when your hairs are grey,
In Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
Rejoice on Christmas-day.

To Bethlehem in Judah,

As prophets had foretold,
The wise men came and worshipped him,
And brought their gifts of goll.

It was within a manger
The lovely infant lay:
In Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
Rejoice on Christmas-day.
The Lord of life and glory

Put by his glittering crown;
It was to die for sinners
That he from heaven came down.
Oh, these are happy tidings,

And Christians ought to say,
Rejoice in Christ our Saviour,
Rejoice on Christmas-day.

O'd Humphrey.