for children, in themselves, are a great blessing, and the source of our purest affections and interests in this world. But it is not always thus; and children may, and too often do, lie as a heavy load, I might almost say, a curse upon their parents. But when is this? When either the children or the parents have wandered from the right path, and are not to be found walking in the ways of godliness. Perhaps the parents have not trained their children early to habits of industry and obedience; they have not taught them their duty to God and their neighbour; they have not set them an example of cheerfulness and of steady religious conduct; or, it may be, with all their care and watchfulness, the children have forsaken the law of their mother, and hearkened not to the instruction of their father, and have turned aside into the evil ways, and brought misery and sorrow upon their parents; or,and this, alas! is not a rare, though a very sad case,—it may be that one parent, or both, have fallen into some sinful courses, some habit of intemperance, or of some other vice, which prevents their following the honest path of industry, and prevents their earning sufficient to support their families; and thus the children who were sent as a blessing from the Lord prove a burthen too heavy for them to bear. Children may prove a curse, and not a blessing, from any one of these causes; but, in such a case, the blessing is still from God, the curse from man's sinful and perverse conduct.

I might add to these examples two other great sources of man's unhappiness in this world-poverty and sickness; and I may do this another day: but, for the present, let us rather see what practical conclusion we should draw from the passage which I have quoted to you, and which I have in some degree illustrated.

The conclusion appears to me to be a very clear one. If the fault is in ourselves, in our own evil tempers and bad habits, the remedy is also to be found by us in restraining these tempers and conquering these habits. We shall not at first be willing to lay the blame where it should be laid. We shall look all round for some other cause, and wish to lay the fault on any one except our

selves. But this is foolish, for, with God's help, we can
mind ourselves, but we can hardly hope to mind others.
We can more easily do our own duty, than we can make
any one else do theirs. Let us not, then, mind a little
pain, but let us ask honestly, What brings this evil upon
me that I am groaning under? Have I brought it on
myself? if so, am I still indulging in the same sin which
brought it on me? How do I try to bear this evil if,
indeed, I cannot remove it? Do I pray daily and un-
ceasingly to God to give me a spirit of patience, and
to enable me to submit my voice to his will? Do I
endeavour to see why this trial is sent, and to make the
use of it which is mercifully intended; remembering that
God does not willingly grieve or afflict us? Do I en-
courage a cheerful and thankful spirit, by considering the
many mercies I still enjoy? I may by my own sin have
brought some sorrow or misfortune upon me, but by
whose mercy is it that I may still count up so many
blessings? Are they not the gift of that very God
whom we murmur against, and yet who gives us so many
things richly to enjoy? Is it not my bounden duty then
to serve Him, and to love Him, and in so doing shall I
not find the best cure for all the ills of this life, and the
purest pleasure which is to be tasted on this earth.
There is, my friends, such solid peace and comfort to be
found in following the commands of God, in practising
that love to our Blessed Saviour, and that love to our
neighbour, which He bids us practise, that there is no
truer text in all the Bible than this; that godliness
has not only the promise of the life which is to come,
but of the life which now is. And if there was no life
to come, no eternal inheritance prepared for us, still for
our own comfort and happiness here we ought to strive
to be godly, and in being godly, we should find our best
security for earthly happiness. How much more earn-
estly then should we strive to be godly, when we know
that it is not merely our happiness for the few years of
our life here which is at stake, but our eternal happiness
in that life which has no end-that life which is for ever
and ever.
E. A.

THE PEACE-MAKER AND MISCHIEF-MAKER.

HEB. x. 24.

"Let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good-works." FROM the conduct of some in our small village one would think their rule of life was rather to provoke one another to hatred and evil works.

Ann Blackall was one of these, and it was sad indeed to notice the mischief and the misery she occasioned by her evil advice and evil example. To give you an instance which came before me yesterday.

She had an hour to spare: alas! she had too many idle ones; for her husband earned good wages, and she had no family to look to. And this spare hour, like the rest, was employed in casting firebrands amongst her neighbours. She fell in with her cousin, Mary Smith, and followed her up the lane, saying, “I wanted to tell you something about Dame Hodges; she has been making pretty work between you and the Rector, telling him as how you went to meeting; so be sure you will be struck off his list, and lose your Christmas beef!" "Nonsense; I never go to meeting, so you are out in your story this time. Dame Hodges has a long tongue, but not a false one." 66 Well, believe it or not, as you like; but time will show I am right. You are too tame in spirit, Mary." "That is not your fault, Ann; some say yours is made of pitch and tow, it takes fire so quick." “ Let them talk; I can answer, and give them as good as they bring; but Dame Hodges is always spiting you, and it is no use for you to pretend to be friends." "I know we are not friends,-I don't like the old woman; but I don't think she would tell a falsehood; and, if she told the Rector I went to meeting, that is one. 66 Well, at any rate, if I were you, Mary, I should go and charge her with it. I don't see why you are to be black-balled this way without righting yourself; that would be a milk-sop." May be I'll find time to step up to the Rectory by-and-bye; but I don't want exactly to pick a quarrel with the old dame." “ Well, well, take your own way and time; it is more your affair than mine, though I should be sorry you

should lose your beef; as I don't get any myself, it's my only chance of a taste." "My husband would not like to lose it either; so I'll take your advice this time, and have it out with the old dame."

On this they parted. Fortunately, before Mary had time to pay her intended visit to Dame Hodges, she had a little talk with Susan Wright, one of those who endeavoured to practise the Apostle's injunction of provoking one another to love and good works, in its full sense and meaning.

Now, Mary, take my advice, let the matter rest, and leave it to me to find out the truth of Ann's story; you know she is often mistaken, and too apt to take offence herself, and lead others to do the same. Dame Hodges does not spite you, as you think; and would not, I am sure, tell an untruth knowingly. I am going up there at dusk, when I can't see to work, with a dough cake I have made for her, and I have no doubt I shall be able to make all smooth between you." And so the good woman did; she made out that the only foundation for Blackall's story was that Hodges had told some one that she had noticed Mary lead blind Tom to meeting, and that she hoped it would not tempt her away from church, as the Rector would not like that. Mrs. Wright was not satisfied with setting this one matter straight, but she felt quite happy when she had got the old dame and Mary to shake hands and make friends over a cup of tea in her comfortable kitchen.

Again this good and this evil genius were at work trying their influence on this same young person.

Mary Smith came to her cousin, her face flushed with anger, and her voice choked with passion. "It is too bad, and I'm come to you, Ann; you will take my part, I know." "Against whom? what is the matter now? I thought you were off to London." "No; but I ought to be. Husband has turned against it, and I'm just mad about it." "Well, but I thought he had promised you should." "So he did." "Ah! I can guess who has put the spoke in the wheel, his old mother who sits so quiet in the chimney-corner brooding ill." "Yes, it is her, my husband told me so; he says she knows

better than either of us, and that it is foolish to trust the baby and me in the train by ourselves." "A pack of stuff; what should an old body like her know about trains and railroads, who never travelled but by a stage waggon. I warned you how it would be, Mary, the day she set her foot in your house. I knew she would make a piece of work between you and your silly husband, who prides himself on being a dutiful son.' "You did; and you may say what you like of the old woman, but not of my husband; he is not silly, and I always heard say a good son makes a kind husband.""Ha! ha! and you find it so now, I guess, when this good son won't let the dear wife be a dutiful daughter, and go and see her own father!"

Mary was thoroughly vexed and mortified, and burst into tears. Just then, Susan Wright came in to ask for her umbrella that Blackall had borrowed, and forgotten to return. "I am going to London to-morrow, and shall want it," she said. "You are, are you?" replied Ann; you are a lucky woman, and can do as you like, it seems. "You are mistaken if you think so: but what is the matter with Mary?" The cause of her tears was explained, and Susan bid her not waste any more tears over what might be mended. "If it is only your going alone that your husband and his mother object to, no doubt they will let you go with me." Mary looked up, greatly comforted; but Ann interposed. "Not a bit of it; the cross-grained mother-in-law will be sure to find out some other reason for keeping Mary tied to her apron-string. I would cut the string at once, cousin, if I were you; you promised to love and obey your husband, but not his mother; tell him that." "Oh! hush, Ann Blackall; why add fuel to flame, and set the young creature at variance with her own husband's mother? Recollect we are told in the Bible to provoke one another to 'love,' not 'hate,' and to 'good,' not 'evil' works." "None of your cant for me, Mrs. Wright; I allow no one to preach to me but the Rector, and that only on a Sunday." Susan made no answer, but asked Mary if she would come with her, and try and settle with her husband about her journey to London. She did so, and