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the cows to and from their pasture. Once," says his biographer, "when he was creeping under a heavy fence, it fell down upon him, and caught him, so that he could not get away. He struggled till he was quite exhausted, and then began to cry for help; but he was far from any house, and no one heard him. At last he got safely out, and this is what he tells of his escape: "I tried and tried, and I couldn't lift them awful heavy rails; then I hollered for help, but nobody came; and then I began to think I should have to die away up there on the mountain all alone. But I happened to think, that, may be, God would help me, and so I asked Him. And after that, I could lift the rails, just

as easy!"

Here we see that the mother's teaching, though rejected for a time, was not lost, but bore at last ample fruit. Mothers, "be not weary in well-doing." "In the morning sow thy seed"; you may not all have sons like Moody, but remember, his mother little knew, when she was training with prayer and patient forbearance her impetuous son, how great the harvest would be

"Thou canst not toil in vain ;

Cold, heat, and wet and dry,
Shall nurture and mature the grain
For harvests in the sky.

Then when the glorious end,

The day of God is come,

The angel reapers shall descend,
And heaven cry, "Harvest home!

Briny Breezes.

Montgomery:

NO. VI. THINK AND THANK.

wo sparkling diamonds, united by a tiny link of gold; such seems our little maxim. Its kindly imperative monosyllables form a threefold cord, not quickly broken. For, if we try to be thoughtful, we cannot fail to be thankful. Evil is wrought

for want of thought. Let us shrine these wise words within our deepest heart. They will prove a priceless jewel, helping us more truly to adorn our Saviour's doctrine by the practice of all things lovely and of good report. And first, concerning the thinking. Much thought invariably refines a character. It places men and things in correct perspective, by making us realise the mighty difference between here and hereafter. When we think of our sinful nature, we cannot be conceited; when we reflect on our undeserved mercies, we can hardly help being grateful; when we call to mind the sorrows of others, we must feel a glow of compassion. It is, then, a duty to cultivate profitable meditation. We are too apt to give the reins to our thoughts, and to let them roam hither and thither, without any sense of responsibility. But this ought not so to be. The power of thinking is entrusted to us solemnly, like any other “talent," and we must render an account of its use. "Guard well thy thoughts, for they are heard iu Heaven." And now, concerning the Thanking. Our maxim pithily implies that reflection must of necessity be followed by gratitude. This is a sequence as true as it is natural and becoming. Let us look at some of the subjects which may lead us to practical reflection. What are we placed on earth for? Surely "to glorify God, and to enjoy Him for ever." We would, therefore, heartily thank Him for our creation. He has prepared good works for us to walk in. He has set before us a broad way and a narrow, with liberty to choose our road; if we fail, it is through our own waywardness alone. Let us think in time, and then we would remember our preservation and all the blessings of this life. How much is meant by this, "all the blessings!" We each know our own, what specially makes this world desirable to us, and what would cause the sorest blank, if taken away. All things come of God. He lends us means of grace and of happiness; but let us often think of the transitory nature of all sublunary treasures. In the twinkling of an eye, at His merciful bidding, they will

make to themselves wings and fly away, and only the vacant chair, or the empty purse, remain as a memorial of past prosperity. Perhaps He saw a tendency to cling to things of sight and sense, and in pity He drew us heavenward, with bands of deepest love. Let us be still, and think on all this. Whatever tends to detach our affections from this world, and to fix them on things eternal, is an incalculable blessing. Let us own the truth, and strive to look up, even through blinding tears. Again, it well becomes us to think of the dire possibilities that might have blighted our roof-tree. As we walk abroad, and observe the various ills which afflict others, we do indeed feel heartily thankful. What are we, to be so highly favoured? "Every misery I miss is a new mercy." And what can we say about our being placed in this dear country, a land which the Lord our God careth for? I've thought this mercy adds tenfold to the blessing of life. What, also, of possessing the precious Bible, wherein we may, at pleasure, drink of the brook in the way, and go onward rejoicing. How much food for healthy thought does all this afford? We attain to the climax of gratitude when we think of God's unspeakable gift and attempt to realize the awful splendour of the day in which Christ will come again, as Judge, and not "in deep humility." How shall we stand before Him, when He searches and tries our ways? Only through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ, our Saviour, who loves to see us trying to think and thank.

Autumn Days.

HEN I go wandering in the autumn groves,
And sit amid the silent autumn fields,

WH

A voice unheard by sense my spirit moves,

A. M. V.

And thoughts "too deep for tears the woodland yields.

I feel that I am fading like a leaf;

I know a dead past holds my happy spring;

Yet do I smile to think delay's so brief,

And all so near heaven's glad awakening.

W.

BY THE REV. JAMES GILMOUR, M.A.,

Author of "Among the Mongols."

N Mongolia I have heard shepherds complaining of some one animal in the flock which had a habit of leading the others astray. The flock

would be feeding all right in good pasture, but some restless creature would begin to move away, and the others would follow. Soon the whole flock would be in motion, and, as likely as not, leaving good pasture for bad, and for no reason at all other than the fact that they were led away! And men often are very like sheep in this respect. Let some one lead them, off they go! In the New Testament we read of cases of blind following of leaders to nowhere, so long ago as before Christ's time. And hurnan nature is the same still. "Like sheep." Ought not a man to be better than a sheep? Ought he not to consider and reason as to whether a way be right before he walks in it?

I once saw some sheep coming ashore from a steamer. After one came along the gangway the others soon followed, and one of the leaders having given a leap as it rushed along the quay, all that followed it leaped also; and there are some people who, like these sheep, have no better reason to give for some of their habits of body and mind, but that some one before them set the example. This is laughable, but sometimes it is no laughing matter. It is said that once when a flock of sheep was on board a steamer, and one jumped overboard, before they could be stopped, a number followed the leader to destruction. It is to be feared that men often do the same thing, follow blindly where any one leads, their only reason for their action being that some one has done the same before them.

Let us follow no one blindly. If any one is fit to be our leader, he will be able to give us reasons for his beliefs and practice. Weighing these reasons, let us follow him if the

path he treads is a right one, and desert him if he is wrong. If a man unreasoningly follows, is he any better, in this respect, than a sheep?

Judge Not.

WAS paying my weekly book in the little general shop which is all that our small village can boast of in that line, which serves us as grocer and

draper and barber, and post-office, besides being the head-quarters of all the news and gossip for several miles round. Before I had finished my business, or quite satisfied my curiosity about Farmer Windsor's niece, who was just engaged to be married, and therefore the heroine of the place for the time being, Widow Carter stepped in, her mind evidently full of something that must quickly find its way out. It was not long coming. She wanted a couple of yards of check muslin to make white aprons for her maid, and before the buxom postmistress could lift the muslin from the shelf Mrs. Carter eased her mind.

"I called in on Mrs. Mitchell as I came by, to see how she and the baby were getting along, and while I was there down came a bunch of flowers and a bottle of port from Mrs. Douglas, with a message that 'she hoped it would help her to pick up her strength;' stuck up nonsense, when we all know Mrs. Douglas has a pinch to keep a roof over her children's head."

"Surely," I put in mildly, "it is all the more kind."

"Kind!" exclaimed Widow Carter, taking me up short, "it's stuck-up fine ladyism, wanting to ape the gentry. She's no business to have port in the house when she's obliged to send her children to a Government Board School. Why can't she do with porter, like other folks better off than she is? My three new-laid eggs looked mighty small beside her bottle of port-wine. I dont pretend to hand port-wine about to working men's wives."