proportion of his disciples are those who are in the humbler walks of life,-the common people. "For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called; but God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are; that no flesh should glory in his presence." 1 Cor. 1: 26-29.

And doth beset it like a poison-worm,
Feeding on all its beauty. As it steals
Into the bosom you may see the light

Of the clear, heavenly eye grow cold and dim,
And the fine, upright glory of the brow
Cloud with mistrust, and the unfettered lip,
That was as free and changeful as the wind,
Even in sadness redolent of love,
Curled with the iciness of constant scorn.
It eats into the mind, till it pollutes

All its pure fountains. Feeling, reason, taste,
Breathe of its chill corruption. Every sense
That could convey a ple..sure, is benumbed;
And the bright human being, that was made
Full of rich, warm affections, and with power,
To look through all things lovely up to God,
Is changed into a cold and doubting fiend.
With but one use for reason,-to despise !
Oh! if there is one law above the rest,
Written in wisdom,-if there is a word
That I would trace as with a pen of fire
Upon the unsunned temper of a child,-
If there is anything that keeps the mind
Open to angel visits, and repels
The ministry of ill,-'tis human love!
God has made nothing worthy of contempt.
The smallest pebble, in the well of truth,
Has its peculiar meaning, and will stand
When man's best monuments have passed away.
The law of heaven is love, and though its name
Has been usurped by passion, and profaned
To its unholy uses through all time,
Still, the eternal principle is pure ;-
And in these deep affections that we feel
Omnipotent within us, we but see

The lavish measure in which love is given;
And, in the yearning tenderness of a child,
For every bird that sings above his head,

And every creature feeding on the hills,
And every tree, and flower, and running brook,
We see, how everything was made to love!
And how they err, who, in a world like this,
Find anything to hate-but human pride.

A

THE ANT AND THE FLEA.

A FABLE.

BUSY little ant toiled hard one sum

mer's day to get a large barleycorn into her storeroom. After much pushing, pulling, lifting, tugging, jerking, and puffing, she succeeded in lodging it safely in the snug little granary of her mansion. To rest herself, she ran out into the air, and seating herself under a clover leaf, she drank life from the fresh breeze, and gathered strength for new labors.

While resting thus, a lively flea, dressed in a shining coat, skipped from the back of old Rover, the farmer's dog, and lighted close to the ant, under the clover leaf.

"Ah! how are you, old lady?" asked the flea in a familiar tone of voice, and in a manner which betokened vulgarity rather than good breeding.

"I am well, but weary, thank you, sir," modestly replied the ant, wiping her heated brow with her arm as she spoke.

"Weary, eh? Been hard at work, I s'pose, as usual," said the flea.

"Yes," replied the ant; "I have been rolling a fine fat barleycorn into my storeroom. It was a plump one, I assure you. It will make bread enough to last my family a week next winter."

"Exactly; I understand. You ants are a very industrious people, very," said the flea, with a knowing look.

"Why, yes, we are industrious; we find our pleasure in daily labor. In summer we lay in stores of food for the winter; we build mansions to shelter us in bad weather; we help each other; we carefully collect every eatable thing, and thus, in mutual love and labors, we spend very happy lives."

The flea now tossed his head, and, with an ironical sneer, replied, "Oh! yes; certainly. Very fine. Your ways are very good, I dare say. But, then, anybody else

THE VIOLET. OTTHOLD, having been presented with a bunch of blue violets, regaled himself with their delightful fragrance, and thanked God for the manifold kinds of refreshment which He provides for man. He also took occasion to express the following thoughts. This beautiful and odoriferous little flower may furnish me with a pleasing image of a humble and godly heart. It is a lowly plant, and creeps upon the ground; but, nevertheless, it charms the eye with its celestial blue, and by its noble perfume far excels many of its more stately and pompous mates of the garden, such as the tulip and imperial crown. In the same way, there are persons who to themselves and others appear base and humble, but who resemble the Lord Jesus in meekness and lowliness of heart. They thus bear the genuine hue of Heaven, and are preferred by God to others who parade their spiritual or bodily gifts. The apothecary, too, extracts the juice of this little flower, and, mixing it with melted sugar, produces a cooling and invigorating cordial; and even so the Most High infuses the syrup of His grace into the humble heart, and so makes it the means of comfort and edification to others.

My God! my glory shall be not to seek my own glory, but thine. I have no wish to be a gaudy flower, if I can only please thee and profit my neighbor. Greatness does not consist in the mere possession of lofty gifts, but in using lofty gifts with a humble mind, to the praise of the Most High.

"Well then, I should like to know where you came from, and why you came to our village?"

"That is, you would like to know' a little of my past history, parentage, &c., or whether, like Melchisedec, I am without any. It's a natural and not a rude question, Tom, and I'm glad of the chance to tell you of my sainted father, my darling mother, and the little brothers and sisters whose graves are in the far West. But it's a long story, which I will tell you after meeting, for here we are at the school-house, and Mr. Milmer is here before us."

The two lads entered the room, which was nearly filled with children, with here and there a sprinkling of teachers and parents, while in the desk sat Mr. Milmer, the superintendent, and by his side a small man, who, after a prayer by one of the gentlemen present, was introduced as Mr. W., a returned missionary, who had spent twenty-five years of his life in heathen lands. Mr. W. said but little, not yet having sufficiently recovered from the fatigue of the voyage to speak for any great length of time. In a few words he told of the good that had been done since first he became a missionary; of the degradation and sin that met him, on his first landing on heathen ground; of the churches and schools that had been established, and of the natives who, through this instrumentality, had been brought to love the Lord Jesus. "And," said he, "in that distant land there are three children who bear the names of three whom you love in this place; who are supported by this church, and this little Missionary Society; and who as we hope are Christians. God has blessed your gifts and your prayers by gathering into his fold these wandering sheep. It is a blessed bond that unites you to these distant heathen children, and I doubt not, dear children, you this night feel the truth of the Saviour's words, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.' Not a farthing given by you for love to Christ shall fail of its reward, but in the last great day he will say, 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of these poor heathen children, ye did it unto me.'"

After some remarks by Mr. Milmer, the hymn, "From Greenland's icy mountains,"

was sung, and afterward a collection was taken up to aid in the support of the three children to whom Mr. W. had referred. Willie's eyes filled with tears as he saw Tom Linton drop into the box a gold piece which had been given to him to buy a pair of skates with. The two boys left the lectureroom at the close of the meeting, with their arms around each other's shoulders, as was their custom in times of peculiar confidence. Well, how did you like the meeting?" asked Willie.

"Like it!" repeated Tom, "I tell you what, Willie, I've learned more of the value of money to-night, than in all my life before. Only think it! a tract which only costs a penny may be the means of the conversion of many heathen!"

"And if but one soul should be saved," replied Willie, "that soul is of more value than the wealth of the world; 'tis a solemn thought, Tom."

"Yes, it is indeed; but now, Willie, I want to have the history you promised after meeting," said Tom.

"It's only a continuation of the same subject, for I am the child of a missionary. But I'll begin at the beginning," said Willie. "My father was a missionary, not to 'poor little heathen far over the seas,' but to the worse than heathen in our own land; he was a home missionary."

"What do you mean by worse than heathen?" interrupted Tom.

"Why, the heathen have never heard of Christ; they have nothing but the light of nature or their own consciences to guide them, therefore they sin ignorantly; but in this land, those who neither love God nor do his will are worse than the heathen, because they know their duty and do it not. That's what I mean, Tom.

"I was the eldest child of my parents; and was born in a log house on a Western prairie. My gentle, precious mother, you have seen. My father," and here the boy's voice faltered "oh, I wish you could have seen him; I think the beloved disciple John must have looked like him; it seems, as I think of him, as if he ought to have had a halo round his head, such as we see in the

old pictures of saints. Oh, how I love his memory! it is my richest inheritance!

"My parents had four children younger than myself. There was but one year between me and my angel sister Loo; then there was Susy and Freddy, twins, and then my baby brother, who lived only long enough for us all to love him dearly, and died of croup when he was six months old. How sad our home was then! I was but seven years old, but I shall never forget my sainted father's looks, nor his words, as we came back to the house after we had left the dear little fellow in his grave at the foot of the garden. 'Our baby is not lost, but gone before,' he said. 'I thank God for such a treasure passed into the skies; my cherub pioneer to my home in the heavens. My darlings,' and here he looked on us as we sat around him, 'the time has come which I have long foreseen, and in a little while I shall join our baby in heaven. The disease which for four years has been sapping my life has almost completed its work, and soon, very soon, on you, my dear Willie, will devolve the care of your mother and your little brother and sisters. Dear wife, do not weep; the cloud seems dark that threatens you, but remember it is spanned by the rainbow of promise. May the God of the widow and the fatherless, in whom I trust, have my treasure in his holy keeping'

"He was interrupted by coughing, and in a few minutes the blood was pouring from his mouth. He had ruptured a bloodvessel, and in two weeks from that time we were fatherless, and my mother was 8 widow. I was but seven years old at that time, and seven years have passed since then, but every look and word of my father is as fresh in my mind as if it were but yes. terday. I have learned all it was possible for me to learn of my father's wishes and plans, in the time before his death, which followed his attack of bleeding. I was too young then to realize all the deprivations and trials to which he had been exposed in the uncultivated path to which duty had called him. He never regretted his choice, and blessed me ere he died, for the promise

I gave him, to love the Lord Jesus Christ, and devote myself to the home missionary cause."

"Here we are at home, Tom," said Willie, interrupting his narrative, "I'll tell you the rest here at the gate, though there is but little more. My father died in February; we expected to remain in our 'hedge home,' as darling Loo called it, till April, when a brother of my mother's was to come and take us to his home in Massachusetts. But we had hardly got over the first grief for my father, when Freddy was taken with scarlet fever, and in two weeks my mother was stripped of all her children but myself, and when they were laid in the grave, my recovery was doubtful. I was spared, and on my knees before God, I then devoted myself to him and to the missionary cause. We came to the eastward as soon as the travelling was good, and about that time, an uncle left my mother $5000, with part of which she purchased the little cottage where we lived, and the interest of the remainder provides all we need. Her object in choosing this place was, that I might have the advantages of education at the academy here, preparatory to my entering college, which I hope to do one year from next September."

The recital was finished, and a pause ensued which was broken by Tom's saying,

"I wish I was as good as you, Willie ; that somebody could feel toward me as I do toward you; better for being in my company, better for my influence. I have always thought it was the best thing in the world to be rich; but I do believe you are happier than I am."

"Dear Tom, I wish you did possess the true riches, the treasure in the heavens, which neither moth nor rust can destroy. A competency of this world's goods is desir able. That by experience I have learned; but better is poverty with the love of God, than great wealth without it. try, Tom, to seek the true riches ?"

Won't you

"I will try, Willie. I will begin this very night, on which I have learned, not only the right use of a penny, but have felt as I have listened to you, that you possess something higher and nobler than all my

In our Christian relations we have too much ignored the social element. Church members may belong to the same church for years, without any personal acquaintance with each other. They may occupy neighboring pews, and yet not be on speaking terms. A person, while recently attending a social gathering, remarked that he had formed more acquaintances that evening with professing Christians, than he had during a five years' connection with a neighboring church. Month after month, and year after year, he had worshipped in the sanctuary, and celebrated the dying love of his Saviour at the communion table, with disciples with whom he had never passed a word of friendly recognition. How much Christian fellowship could that brother, under such circumstances, enjoy? How much benefit could he derive from the watch and care of the Church? Let the stranger be guilty of some startling immorality, and probably the Church might wake up to a consciousness of his existence; and he might be summarily disposed of, without particular inquiries into the causes which had led him to wander from the fold.

At this moment, there are in our churches