fretfulness or gloom. With such parents, of course, the children are gay enough. They salute the home-comers with laughing words, they have the merriest tales to tell and the best jokes to make. They are not full of their own pains and troubles; indeed, they have forgotten that they had any. The evening has come, perhaps, but the very atmosphere of the room is sunny. And no one can can be in long without feeling lighter of heart and more hopeful of spirit.

If we cannot have a cheerful household, then, it is good to have one merry heart among us. There are persons whose presence in the house makes a great difference. It is very quiet when they are away, and there is all the time a sense of something wanting. As soon as they come all the rooms seem filled. There is a strong, clear voice singing or talking, and no place seems any longer dull and silent. We meet them on the stairs, and their faces are as bright as June suns, and a great deal brighter than some we have known. We begin to smile back again, and to find ourselves actually humming a lively air, which we thought we had forgotten. Our work is not so hard, the day is not so dim, life is not so dull as it seemed before they came. And who can deny but that these cheerful persons are among the benefactors of our race?

One thing is very strange. It is that Christian people are not more frequently cheerful. They ought to be. They really have not anything to make them miserable. If they believe what they say they do, they ought to be brave when they are timid, singing when they are sighing, smiling when they are weeping. They have no business with long faces and whining voices, and dreary ditties about vales of tears and howling wildernesses. They have a Friend, strong and tender, who has promised to care for them. They have a home which is perfectly happy and is free from every sorrow. And when God bids them rejoice and be exceeding glad, ought they not at least to be cheerful?

The Census.

WE were brought back to the world after the peace of a communion Sunday, and the repose of a quiet night, by a catechetical examination one Monday morning. Wherever we were, at home, or visiting at the house of a friend or a stranger, the same questions were propounded to us. "What is your name and surname? What is your relation to the head of the family? What is your condition-single, married, or widowed? What is your sex? How old where you last birthday? What is your rank or Occupation? Where were you born?" It was rather a formidable ordeal for those in whom the organ of secretiveness is marked by phrenologists as "very large." And it was decidedly trying to the temper of those who have a peculiar dislike to publishing any fact about themselves, and would rather hide behind a cloud of mystery to the end of their days. No doubt, although education, civilisation and general enlightenment have taken place since the last census was taken, the registrars and their assistants had not altogether an easy time of it. And although no suspicion of any undue freedom, or interference, or curiosity, can have been excited, we can well understand how some people who never will tell the truth if they can help it, have failed to do so now.

It is to be hoped, however, that for the sake of the great importance which is attached to the act of taking the census, truthful returns have been made by the help of the "Family Bible," and other means. And then what will come of it? Will our legislators see that notwithstanding all that they have done little children still work in the field and the factory when they ought to be at school? Will they ascertain how many under twelve years of age are growing old and worn out before their time because they have to work for so many long weary hours? Will the thousands who live by other people's labour have had the courage to avow it so that the State may subtract the drones from the working bees? Has there been for once a rare exhibition of honesty among the thousands who have earned the distinction of a right to insert the

word "thief” under the heading "Profession" in the census paper? Will some wise laws follow which shall regulate the demand and supply of certain occupations? Will the thousands of women who are half-starving upon the miserable pittances which some work produces, be shown a better and a fairer way of living? If a few of such reforms follow the taking of the census no one will be sorry at the personal examination he has undergone.

No doubt the filling of the schedules by the heads of households has sometimes been done a little sorrowfully. What changes have happened during the last ten years; and how differently the papers have been filled. The children are grown up, and are away in homes of their own. Some wanderers are in other lands, and have nothing to do with the population of Britain. And some, alas ! how many! who belong to the family, and are indeed the dearest members of it, are not mentioned at all in the census-paper, but have their record upon the white tombstone in the green grave-yard.

Well, but it does not matter so very much if they have gone up to that other home, and are among the multitude which no man can number. Their names though omitted here are "in the Lamb's book of life." The head of the family here is no longer in any way responsible for them; but they are safe, and numbered among the redeemed in the presence of the Lord. And we who tell our names and the places of our birth now know that soon we too shall have changed our state; and shall be where the peoples of every land dwell together in one happy home.

Rubbish Wanted.

THOSE Who walk about the outskirts of towns, where eligible plots of building-ground are to be let, may frequently see the announcement, "Rubbish may be shot here." some districts, indeed, where the soil is damp and a good foundation is necessary, the placards go farther still and

In

make the invitation less indifferent and more pressing, by putting it in this form, “Rubbish wanted."

It is very suggestive. No doubt many persons reading it in certain moods have felt a regret that the request cannot be fully granted, and all kinds of rubbish shot there in about the only place where they can be of any use. The kind of stuff that will be brought is such as worn-out building materials, broken bricks, stones, refuse, &c., but is it not a pity that several other sorts cannot be carted in the same direction?

For instance, if the rubbish were taken out of the literature of the day what a heap there would be! What ton loads of good paper made into bad penny numbers of trashy sensational stories! What numbers of even high-priced periodicals might lose a good part of their pages in consequence of their being consigned to the rubbish heap! How many three-volumed novels might also be brought to the same spot; for even the most inveterate novel-readers of our day will admit that in their visits to the circulating library they too often only succeed in getting books which are of no possible good. Sometimes, indeed, we may go much farther, and say that they are positively pernicious, and the only proper place for them is not the library or the hands of our maidens, but the rubbish heap.

Many of the fashions of the day might be brought to the same place, and everybody would be the gainer. Alarming, not to say disgusting, particulars have lately been published in certain articles of the daily press relative to the human-hair market. Who that has read them but must feel that the proper place for the immense quantities of hair which are imported into this country from such various and questionable sources is not the window of the hair-dresser, far less the heads of our English girls and women, but that spot where rubbish is wanted? And might not some other things go at the same time? Paints and cosmetics, and high heels and tight stays, for instance?

It is almost a pity that certain characteristics of some persons cannot be taken from them and deposited also on the rubbish heap. What pride and vanity and utter frivolity spoil some of our girls! What littleness and ignorance and self-indulgence mar some of our young

men! What foolish practices are rife among us! How many are falling into the vices of drinking and gambling and living beyond their means! And would it not be well if these things could be taken from our midst and put where rubbish is wanted?

For it ought to be understood that in our world and in these days rubbish is not generally wanted. What is wanted is quite the reverse. The times are great, and great men and women should live in them. We ought to be very much in earnest. Wisdom, dignity of character, self-control, diligence, perseverance, talent, all are wanted; but there is no room for rubbish. Our eyes should be all lifted upward, and our course be an onward one. Το be as good and do as much good as we can, this is the demand made upon us now. To think pure and noble thoughts, and speak strong and powerful words is our duty, the duty of every man and woman, old or young, amongst us.

And if we are to rise as we might we must have keen eyes to separate the rubbish from what is valuable. Have we not been a little too lenient to ourselves if not to others? Let us try to be better and to make all around us better by the force of a good example. For if this were done there would be considerably less rubbish in the world.

Stir.

We have seen a heap of dead leaves lying quite silent and motionless, attracting no attention, doing no good, being simply trodden upon; but suddenly there has arisen a fresh breeze, and instantly they begin to fly about in all directions, and to look almost as if they had come to life again. They are stirred by the wind, and whether they were dead leaves in November, or bright green ones in May, we would a thousand times rather see a stir than be gloomily conscious of a still atmosphere and not a breath of fresh air anywhere.

We know that it is possible to have too much stir; the