at school is on the shelf now. But of what use is it to me, or to anyone else? Mine, indeed! It might as well have been anybody else's for any use I have made of it of late years. I used to read it; and I used to say that hymn I learnt at school,

But what good learning to read the Bible has done me since, it would be hard to tell. There was another hymn, too, that I learnt then,-something about water in it. 'Water flows,'—I remember that,' water flows, to quench our thirst of sin.' Yes, this must be what he meant, when he asked me if I knew any one who were like those foolish sailors."

I shall not follow out these reflections. They are only a few of those which forced themselves upon the unwilling mind of Mrs. Adams, as she sat, deeply immersed in thought, with these relics of former times in her lap.

But presently she was aroused. Her children came home, clamorous for food; and remembering her present duties, the mother hastily returned the "rubbish" into the old box.

But the thoughts that had been awakened in her mind did not slumber again. Great mental agony laid hold of her, she was so troubled that she could not rest. She had neglected salvation. Her former emotions and convictions had given place to callous indifference: and now it seemed as though God were taking vengeance upon her for her wilful and determined sinfulness. Her troubles were, indeed, hard to bear. Her poverty and destitution and present loneliness;-the cold looks or the almost colder attempts of her neighbours to comfort her, under her misfortune, as they termed it;—the ignorance and wilfulness of her children;-even the yet uncertain doom which hung over her husband, and her sympathy for him;-all these things were sufficient to weigh down her spirits, as with a heavy burden. But in addition to these was the burden upon her soul. "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?"*

Many days passed away, and my grandfather did not repeat his visit to Sarah Adams. He had done what he could for her in temporal matters,-had supplied her most

*Prov. xviii. 14.

urgent wants, had pleaded for her with the guardians of the union, and so procured her the help she had received,had used his interest with some neighbours, and obtained the promise of plain needle work for the poor woman who, at one time, had been quick and clever with her needle. But he did not go near her. Why should he go? He must not talk to her about Jesus; and he did not care to gossip. So he said, or thought, that Mrs. Adams had no desire to receive his visits and counsels.

He was surprised therefore, one evening, after hearing a gentle knock at his door, to be told that Mrs. Adams wished to speak to him. She had put her children to bed and asked her good-natured neighbour, Mrs. Stevenson, to look in and take heed to them; and then had hastened to my grandfather's house.

"Hey! and what is the matter now?" said he, adjusting his spectacles, when he saw the poor woman's look of genuine agitation and appeal.

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Everything sir," said she. Oh, I am very unhappy, and I don't know where to look for help. Will you help

me ?"

"How can I help you, Sarah?" my grandfather asked, encouragingly.

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I am

"Will you please to say something to me about my soul? sir," she cried; you told me once that you would never talk to me again about such things till I asked you. come now to ask you, humbly, to forgive all the wrong things I have ever said in my temper, and to tell me what I must do to be saved."

There was no need to go beyond this-no need for the aged Christian to ask if his poor petitioner were in earnest. The expression of agony on her countenance would have put scepticism to flight. He did not even stay to ask how, or by what means, her concern had been awakened. It was enough that the appeal had been made; and his response was ready.

"You know what the Bible answer to your question is, Sarah," he said,-"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.""

Yes, she knew this; but,

"There are no 'buts' in God's gospel, Sarah. The invitations are to all who will come."

"You told me about the poor sailors, sir, who were near perishing for want of water when they had plenty around

them. I did not know what you meant then; but I know now; and I know that I have been just like them."

"Very true. Be like them still more. When they found that the water was sweet, they drank;-do as they did.” "How can I, sir?"

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Sarah, when the Lord Jesus Christ was on earth, he cried aloud to multitudes who stood around him-' If

any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.** Any man-any woman or child-anybody who heard him, everybody who heard him, was invited then; everybody who hears the same words in his gospel is invited now. He himself, the fountain of living waters, bids you come to him and drink-drink so that you will never thirst again. understand this ?"

Do you

"I think I do, partly, sir," replied Mrs. Adams, hesitatingly.

"How can I make it clearer? See, Sarah; you are unhappy; you have long been unhappy; it needs no conjurer to make this discovery. Yet, all the while you have been thirsting for peace and happiness, and have been saying to yourself that there is no use in trying any more, and that you may as well give up-all this time, the fresh waters of joy and happiness and peace have been flowing all around you in the gospel of God's grace, in the love and compassion of the blessed Saviour, in the sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit, which you have refused to taste."

"What can I do, sir ?" the poor convinced woman asked; and then my grandfather plainly and faithfully warned her of the danger of stifling her present convictions, and besought her to close at once with the invitations of Christ,— "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light;"—"If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink."

The words were spoken in season now. Sarah Adams returned to her cottage comforted and instructed: and though she found, what all who like her have wilfully for many long years shut their eyes against the light of truth, and hardened their hearts against the pricks of conscience, do more or less find-that the way back may be rugged and difficult; yet, by God's Spirit helping her, she laid hold of the hope of the gospel-very humbly, indeed, but not the less securely for that, and was ere long enabled to quench her

*John vii. 37.

soul's thirst for peace with the sweet waters of Christ's mercy. No longer a neglected treasure, the Bible became to her a fountain of comfort amidst all her trials; so that she could sometimes even rejoice in tribulation. Eventually, too, she made a discovery, which though unimportant in comparison with the infinitely valuable matter of soulsalvation, is not unimportant in itself-namely, that "Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is."*

THE WALLED-UP BIBLE.†

A LADY, well known in Switzerland for her missionary efforts, once gave a Bible to a young Italian mason, hoping that he might be induced to read it, and that by God's blessing it might be the means of enlightening his mind as to the errors of the Roman Catholic church, to which he belonged. But his priest hearing of it, assured him that it was a most dangerous book, and forbad his ever reading it. Antonio, the young mason, dared not disobey. He put the Bible into his pocket, and thought no more about it, till, shortly after, when he was helping to build the foundations of a large house, it suddenly came into his head to bury the book in a crevice between the large stones which he was so carefully adjusting. His companions applauded the proposal; and Antonio, before walling up the Bible, gave several sharp blows on the cover with his hammer.

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"Now," said he, mockingly, "I shall be able to recognise it if the evil one ever gets it out of this."

The house was finished, and when the winter came Antonio returned to his native village with little more in his pocket than when he left it, having spent his wages as fast as he received them, drinking with his dissolute companions.

Five or six years elapsed, when the news of the entire destruction by fire of the little town of Glaris filled Switzerland with consternation and sorrow. Nobly did the Swiss then prove the truth of their motto, "One for all; all for one?" clothes, provisions, and money were sent * 1 Tim. iv. 8.

†This remarkable narrative, translated from the Italian, is vouched for as strictly true by the author.

from all parts to the destitute inhabitants of the pretty little town, which, in a few hours, had been reduced to a heap of smoking ruins; but happily, notwithstanding the rapidity with which the fire spread, very few persons perished in this great disaster. During the summer the houseless crowd encamped round the crumbling ruins of their former homes, but when the cold weather came they were glad to accept the generous hospitality of the neighbouring towns and villages.

When the spring arrived they began to think of rebuilding their town, but amongst the heaps of ruins and ashes these poor people had some difficulty in finding the sites of their houses.

With spring came the swallows, the harbingers of fine weather; and soon after began to arrive the Italians, who may truly be called the masons of Switzerland, for without their assistance hardly a vineyard wall or the foundation of a chalet is built. Every day troops of these men passed over the mountains on foot, most of them having their whole stock of clothes on their backs, and each carrying a trowel and hammer tied up in a red handkerchief. The apprentice masons carried heavier instruments on their shoulders, a hod and shovel for making mortar.

Like all Italians, during the hours of sunshine, each had his jacket slung over the left shoulder, and they all wore much the same costume, a suit of coarse brown velveteen. Many of them carried bright red or blue cotton umbrellas, large enough to shelter a whole family. Less happy than the swallows who preceded them, these poor men had left their homes to lead a life of toil in a foreign land.

The young men, excited at the idea of seeing a new country, and certain of finding work either at Glaris or on the numerous railways then making in Switzerland, sang merrily as they marched gaily along; but the fathers of families might be easily distinguished by the regretful glances they cast behind them at every turn of the road. In the midst of one of these groups might have been remarked a middle-aged man of careworn appearance: he had left a wife and little ones behind him in the mountains of Piedmont while he went far away in search of work, hoping to save out of his wages sufficient to keep them during the long and severe winter. Arrived in Switzerland, this crowd dispersed in various directions in search of employment. One party, amongst whom was