sorrowful heart; but psalm after psalm she read, and it grew doubtful whether the mother had even heard one single word. But at length Mrs. Allen turned to her with hard, dry eyes. "Do you think I'm very bad, very wicked,

I mean ?"

"No, indeed," was the astonished rejoinder; "but why should you ask such a question as that?"

"Because God's letting all this come upon me, and it seems sometimes as though I must have done something very dreadful, and this is the punishment for it. David lost his child, you know!"

Mrs. Morrison took the chill hand within her own and pressed it with sisterly warmth. "Let me tell you a little bit out of my own life. It was many years ago and I was sorely tried. Frankie was my only child then, and he was just getting over the fever, when his father was taken ill, and I didn't think he'd ever get really strong again. And I used to fret very much at times, the future looked so black; still I tried to keep cheerful for Tom's sake, but it wouldn't do; he soon found out something was the matter, and wanted to know what it was. And then I remember I just laid my head right down on his pillow and sobbed it all out, and said life seemed so hard, and what had I done that I should be tried more than other mothers and wives? Well, he didn't say much at the time, but after a while he asked me to fetch the big family Bible and let him read a bit; and what do you think he chose?"

"Something comforting in John," suggested Mrs. Allen. "No: it seemed to me then such an outlandish choice, but I think I see him now turning over the leaves to that first chapter in Job, and then he went through it in his poor weak voice, and he stopped when he got to that verse that says there was none like Him in the earth, and made me see that Job was one of the best men living then, and that it was just because of that he was tried so much; and so you see it wasn't punishment at all, but like doing, Tom said, as he did when he wanted to test the strength of

something he'd made. And then after that I remember I felt so ashamed of my own small burdens as Tom read out all that Job once had to bear, how he lost all his children and all his property in one day; just think of that, and yet he could say at the end of it, 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.' Tom read those words through twice, and then turned to me: 'Mary, I know you've a deal of sorrow and anxiety just now, but after all, our troubles are not like Job's; then won't you just try to look up in the Father's face and say Blessed too? Think how it must please Him to see we can trust His goodness even when everything does seem against us; then say Blessed to Him, Mary, if you can.' Well, I can't tell you exactly how it was, but that one word seemed like a charm, and whenever after that I felt worried and wanted to complain, I'd think of Job and feel I must say 'Blessed' too. Sometimes I'd say it with tears, but it always seemed to take the sting out of the trouble, the giving praise to One who is so good and kind, and can't make a mistake, you know."

There was silence in the room for some time after that; then Mrs. Allen said in a husky voice, “I'd like to be able to bless God as well, whatever may happen to little Charlie to-night. Then won't you help me bless Him now?”

The two women knelt hand in hand, and impossible as Mrs. Allen might have thought it a few hours ago, a few words of praise now began to cries for the child's recovery. bed caused her to look up. his mother.

mingle in with her fervent A sudden movement in the Little Charlie was looking at

Mother, I think I didn't say my prayers to-night, but I'se sleepy now; may I say 'em in bed?" and the child folded his hands and softly repeated the words—

Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,

Look upon a little child;

Pity my simplicity,

Suffer me to come to Thee.

A pang shot through the mother's heart.

66

'Do you

think He's going to take him now?" she whispered low. Mrs. Morrison pointed to the quiet, regular breathing of the child in sleep. "No, dear, he may be spared to you for many a long year yet."

And Charlie was spared to grow up a good and useful boy, but his mother never forgot the night she watched beside him in anxious alarm, and often in after trials the rising complaint was checked and changed to a thanksgiving cry of "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

CONSTANCE EVELYN

"A

"Abide in Me."

BIDE in Me"; the branch must wither
That abides not in the vine;

Soon or late the life must perish

Which is unsustained by Mine:

Human strength must change to weakness
Leaning not on the divine.

"Abide in Me," when storms are low'ring
O'er the waters wild and dark,

Venture not upon the billows

In thy frail and found'ring bark;
Know that for thee there is safety,
Safety only in the Ark.

"Abide in Me"; thy foes are many,

Mighty who would do thee wrong;
But to Me, thy Shield and Fortress,
Strength and majesty belong;
Safe art thou in Me abiding,-

I am stronger than the strong.

"Abide in Me" in faith and patience;
Soon the tempest will be o'er,—
Soon, full soon, thy feet be standing

Safe upon that happy shore,

Where My ransomed robed in whiteness

Dwell with Me for evermore.

Can't Read! Mustn't Read!"

BY REV. P. B. POWER, M.A.,

Author of "The Oiled Feather," "The 'I Wills' of the Psalms," etc.

B

XCUSE me, dear reader, if I say out my mind rather

bluntly, if I put it down in black and white as clearly as I can, and write, This is the devil's "can't." He has many terrible "cannots," and

this is one of them.

Let me tell you all about it. The story is sadly short. A poor girl living a life of sin was met coming out of a dancing saloon by a man, who offered her a tract. "Can't read-mustn't read," she cried, and rushed wildly off. She could read the actual letters; she could understand their actual meaning; but her "cannot " meant "dare not," it meant "must not "-that means 66 devil-hindered." Away

she rushed-away into the darkness; perhaps never to be seen again by any one who would care for her never to hear a Gospel message, or be offered a Gospel tract again. This was nearly twenty years ago, and I keep saying to myself, Where is she now? Where is she now?

I was talking to a doctor once about his soul, and what he said to me was, "he daren't think; he would go mad if he thought."

Was not that awful about that poor creature? Don't you feel for her? I am sure you do, whether you are a true believer yourself or not.

I wonder if you reflected a little on this matter, whether your thoughts would be the same as mine. At any rate, I will tell you what I think.

"Cannot" means 66 must not "-" dare not "-and there is also a "do not "-"I do not read," which is practically the same as "cannot" and "must not."

66

'Anything else you may read," says Satan, "and think about-news, politics, farms, gossip, stories; only keep from reading about holy things, above all about Christ and His great salvation, and the Spirit of God and His great work. Can't read-mustn't read' is what you must say about these."

See here the tyranny, and the cowardice, and the diabolical aim of the Evil One.

Holy Scripture, which Satan says you must not read, represents him as a tyrant. It calls him a murderer, a lion going about seeking whom he may devour-a person who takes people captive. No wonder he does not like people to read the Scriptures, when they have so much to say that is bad about him, and never a word that is good.

People think they are free. The religious folk are straight-laced; as to themselves they can toss about as they will, while the poor religious people are in the stocks—yes, I might almost say in the pillory, if I am to judge by the dirt that is thrown at them.

But this is a part of the cheat. For fear they should try