through Israel's Mighty God, and shall redeem from sin, and death, and hell, the race entire of human kind, and bring salvation, free and full to all of Adam's sinful race. And then appeared the shining legions of the sky, tuning their'sweet, but mighty notes, congratulating man, and praising Heaven. O! what an hour was that when eternal hope was born for sinful man. Attend my soul and bow in awe! Let its return be ever hailed with songs of joy, and gratitude, and praise. Let old and young unite in singing the joy inspiring song. And crown him Lord of all." DECEMBER. December always has a sound to my ear like the tone of a great bell striking on the still air in a frosty night, when the stars glitter in the depth of a steel-blue sky, and the ground rings to the foot of the passing traveler. The clock of the year has almost run down. What a little while it seems, what a thin sheaf of yesterday has been bound, since we hailed the incoming of the new year! And here we are almost at its end, every one giving and receiving hearty, friendly greetings, and thinking of the multitude of duties which usually crowd upon us at the last. Memory is busy, too. We review our work, seeing how far we have fallen short of our ideal, observing how often our plans have been defeated and our errands have been vain, yet feeling that in all vicissitudes God has dealt gently with us, and in all experiences has kept His word and manifested His grace. His compassions have failed no, whatever He may have sent upon us. God never fails us, come what may of joy or sorrow, of fortune and disappointment. Let us think of the trials and triumphs of the past month in this spirit of Let us say trust and thankfulness. Good when he gives, supremely good, In this, as in other years, we had the wonderful panorama of the seasons, the spring's gradual awakening and unfolding, the summer's royalty of beauty and blossom, the autumnal pomp of bright color, and the winter's trumpet-voices of storm and white drifting of snow is near. We have had shocks and surprises-as we have every year. Not alone have we wept over our special sorrows, but we have had tears to shed over the griefs and agonies of some we have never seen. It is a blessing that we cannot enter as acutely and entirely into the sufferings of those we do not know and see, as we do into our own special and personal bereavements. If we could, the harp-strings would break with their continual tension. The year has brought us joys and gifts as well as shadow and pain. Some precious ones, dear as life itself, have gone from our dwellings to the great home above. But in this household and that there has been the entering in of new delights. There are little silken heads pressing cradle pillows, and lying softly in mothers' arms, which were not here last December. At the hearths which have known trouble, what comforter has been so potent as the baby, the little unconscious sovereign, whose helplessness presses everybody into service. December is a good time for thinking over our omissions. How much have you left undone? You, dear reader, who were stirred up some time ago to do some actual task. Have you put your hand to the plough, or having put it there in a genuine impulse for the right, have you drawn it back? Have you given of yourself and your time and your substance to aid those who are carrying the banner to the front. If this year has brought to us any new friendship, which has exercised a beneficient influence over us, if it has revealed to us in any new way the strength and fidelity of our old friends, if it has proved to us how our lives are interwoven with other lives, and made us more than ever aware of our responsibility as social beings, we have cause to be glad. Of one fact we may be assured, that it has not failed to impress us in some way. We do not stand still. Either we are going on or we are retrograding. The books we have read, the places we have visited, the people we have known, and the lives we have lived in this year of grace, are parts of that history which is made of and for us, as our days go on. Byand-bye we shall leave this world of the perishing and transient, to enter into that within the veil, where eternity shall not be measured by months. Till then let us strive to be faithful. MARGARET E. SANGSTER. HAS CHRISTIANITY FAILED? Fifty years ago there were 502 mission stations in foreign lands. There are now 5,765, an increase of elevenfold. Fifty years ago there were 656 ordained missionaries, native and foreign. There are now 6696, or an increase of more than ten fold. Fifty years ago there were 1,526 other laborers and assistants. Now there are 33,856, an increase of thirty-fold, and forming a total army of over of 40,000 laborers engaged in the evangelization of the world. Do these statistics look as if Christianity were perishing, and as if its "afterglow," as we are sometimes told, were all that still survived of it? Have we not in these statistics the were most complete of all conceivable refutations of that oft-repeated assertion that "Christianity has failed"? Judging from the history of Christian missions during the last fifty years, does Christianity look as if there a tendency to decline? Does it present any appearance of feebleness? With the march of knowledge and civilization, are the doctrines of the Gospel found incompatible with intellectual and social progress. By no means. The religion of Christ has never received such justification as has been afforded it by the missions of the nineteenth century. The most striking evidence of the Divine origin of Christianity lies in the fact of its existence and persistence in the world, its growth and diffusion among the different races of men. The tendency to propagate itself by the conversion of unbelief, together with the regenerating power it exercises upon the conscience and the life, constitute the truest test of its divineness, and the surest prophecy of its permanence. In these coexisting characteristics, Christianity possesses two of those organic forces which are essential to the life of any true religion. Another force, which has special significance in the present day, is its power of assimilating the conditions of advancing civilization, in a way no other religion has done, and which, apart from other and higher considerations, marks it out, necessarily, as the universal religion, of the world. TRUE AND FALSE HAPPINESS. 'Twas evening:- the last faint beams of day had given place to the lengthening shadows of night; the sable mantle was cast over earth; but deeper, darker yet rested the shades of trouble upon the fair brow of that lovely girl. Reared in the lap of luxury with not a wish urgratified, knowing not a want, she dreamed not that sorrow could touch such as she. Look! see how she presses those delicate fingers upon her wildy throbbing brow; see her pace impatiently the velvet carpet which from its very richness gives back no echoing sound. "Why!" she bitterly exclaimed, "was I spared for this? Oh! this infamy and disgrace, I had rather have died,—but no; I never thought of death before. I wonder how some people can talk of dying so calmly. For my part I cannot endure the thought. And yet what is life to me now, when he, my father, has deserted me, has taken all my wealth, which was mine, in my own dead mother's right, and this house that shelters me must pass into other hands? What care the minions of the law for broken hearts, or wildly throbbing brain? And yet they say it is rightfully theirs. Well, let it go; earth has no charm for me now. Those who fawned on me, who feigned undying friendship, where are they in this dark hour of woe? Already they pass me coldly; the averted eye, the haughty lock, tell the tale too plainly to be misunderstood. But they shall see that I will not crawl to them for their favors. No, Helen Travers has too much pride left for that. Pride! yes. I never thought of it before; but perhaps I have done the same to the lowly and unfortunate. If so, bitterly am I repaid. No more can I move in the circles of wealth and fashion; no,I am sure I can never hold up my head again in society. But what is the coveted pleasure in the presence of my old friends? What but a bitter mockery, hollow pretension, the tongue trained to flattery and deceit, where love is a by-word, and friendship a wretched barter for paltry gold. I wonder if there is such a thing as pure,true, disinterested friendship? I never much of it, at any rate. I am tired, see heartily tired, of myself, and everybody else. This is a strange world, and the other is so mysterious, I wonder how I should have to go to work to be sure of happiness there. I should have to profess a great deal, and practice a very little; eschew all reasonable pleasure and enjoyment, and join their class and attend all their sewing circles; to send old clothes and missionaries tothe heathen, (wonder if there are any poor miserable, half-starved, ill-clothed little sinners at home?) and have the glorious privilege of scandalizing, to my heart's content, everybody, that dared to think differently. Oh! I have seen so much hypocrisy and deceit, so much slander and double-dealing, under the mask of religion, that I sicken at the word. But if there was a practice corresponding to the profession, it would indeed be grand. Sometimes I feel as if I could lay myself, body and soul, on the altar of true religion; but I have so little of it, have seen so many sit with their gilded prayer books in their hand through service, and then imagine they have done all that they can, lay away their religion until the next Sabbath. Hark! I thought I heard the door bell. Some one of my ten thousand friends, perhaps,come to console me,-or rather," she added bitterly, some one to in form me that I am now a lone,friendless, penniless, homeless, unhappy girl." Her reverie was here interrupted by the appearance of a boy of some eight years. At first he seemed almost stupified at the sight of the splendor that surrounded him; but soon recollecting his errand, he faltered out, "Please, Miss, mother is dying; will you come and see her?" Helen Travers was in just the mood for an adventure. One short month before, and she would have sent a domestic; but now adversity had softened her heart, and she eagerly grasped the opportunity of something to take her mind off her own sorrow. Hastily following her guide, she soon arrived at his home. Entering the low doorway a sight met her eye which sent the blood from her cheek, for Helen was all unused to wretchedness and want. She knew not that earth had such charnel houses. Above, below, and all around them were tenements occupied by the poorest of the poor; rioting and drunkenness and every species of wickedness and crime found there a haunt. But, fair lady, within this dwelling you are destined to commence a new,a higher, purer,bappier life. Upon yonder lowly cot lies one of whom you may well learn the way of life. A slightg,raceful girl stepped forward, and taking Helen by the hand, led her softly to the bedside of the dying. She was struck with the holy serenity that beamed from those sunken eyes; the radiance of the soul shining through and lighting up with a seraphic smile the departing soul. Recognizing a stranger,she took her delicate. hand in hers, and never in all her life had Helen Travers felt such a thrill of emotion pass through her soul. She felt almost in the presence of the angels. It is "Kind lady," said the dying woman, "I feel that I am going home; and, before this mortal puts on immortality, I would say a few words. the old story of sickness and misfortune. The companion of my early days is with the Father, where I shall soon join him; but of these children I would speak. I have endeavored to instil into their young minds the great principles of Christianity, and I feel that I have, in so doing that, given more than wealth can bestow. But would you be kind enough to use what influence you can command, in finding them some suitable home, where they can work, and where they will be permitted to attend to relig ious instruction? I am poor, but, lady, the proudest millionaire, that rolls through your streets in his costliest equipage, would not tempt me to exchange with him, the glorious hope that thrills my soul. I have never actually suffered, although reduced to abject poverty. My heavenly Father has always provided something still. And now I feel that I am leaving you; the pearly gates of the New Jerusalem are opening wide to receive me; angels are beckoning me away; the holy light that radiates from the eternal throne sheds its lustre around my soul. Oh! my children love God supremely; for, be assured that he loves you ever; though sunk in sin he loves you still. And O! strive to do all in your power to help all around you, and ever remember, that we are all children of one Father, and by and by, through tribulation and sorrow, we shall come up a glorified, and by his redeemin grace and pardoning love, a band of purified immortals, destined to reign forever, with our Father,in the realms of endless day. Avoid sin, for it is the way of death. Live for the highest good of yourselves, and those around you; then shall you be happy." As the last words left her lips, a smile of ineffable joy lighted up her face for a moment, and the soul was with the Father. When Helen Travers left that house of mourning, she felt that a new life was before her. She felt that she found the true religion at last. She returned to her home, and entering her room, she found a letter conveying to her the house and all it contained from her father's creditors. But what was her first thought? Was it how she would once more reign the belle of the gray assembly? that now her old friends would come thronging around her? No; Helen had learned by that death-bed scene, and in the hour of her affliction, a higher, a holier sphere of action. She had learned the secret of true happiness; and her first thought was, how she could best benefit those lone orphan children. And she did all in her power to help them, not only with money, but with kind words, a far sweeter balm to the wounded breast. And friends,the firm and true, clustered around her; not the mere summer flowers, but the evergreen and myrtle wreath, of unchanging friendship. Oh! if more would but follow her example, and turn their power, their talent, their genius, their soul, and above all their work, their active energies, into the great cause of humanity, the desert would blossom like the rose, and the waste places be made glad. MRS. R. B. EDSON. MUTUAL HELPFULNESS. 66 This department-The Household -is open to our readers for the interchange of thought and experiences on practical matters pertaining to the home. Every housewife has some particular hobby," really good in itself, that might be of great value to another less fortunate in this respect. We all wish to know the best and easiest way of housekeeping how we can accomplish the most by doing the best. We wish to know the best manner of conducting our home, training our children, directing our servants, taking care of the sick; and in no better way can this knowledge be acquired than by a friendly interchange of ideas from month to month. Some of us live in the country, remote from the bustling world, and have not the opportunity to keep our ideas apace with modern society, yet we wish our sons and daughters so educated at home that they may appear well-bred. Some of us live in the city, tired and surfeited with worldly pleasures, it may be, and we ask the help of thrifty energetic country friends. Some of us are old, our ideas mostly ancient, and we need new life, new thought that only the young can supply. Some of us are young; stand, trembling on the threshold of life, lest we fail, and we seek the advice and protection of the aged. Thus we are, in a measure, dependent upon each other. Let us then join together, a band of merry housewives, and learn to cook, bake, brew and set our houses in order after the most approved methods that will require the least possible strength and time. THE SEXTON BEETLES. are In the whole insect kingdom there is nothing much more wonderful than the intelligent work performed by the burying beetle. These small and prodigiously strong creatures about an inch long. They are black, with two bands across the back of a bright orange color, and two spots of this color on each of the wings. Although in so gay and attractive a dress, it is not safe to handle the insect on account of a fetid odor that constantly emanates from it, and which soap, water, alkalies and strong perfumeries are powerless to remove. These busy creatures will bury birds, frogs, rabbits and pieces of meat with the greatest rapidity, and when one is not equal to the task, others will take a share in the work. One beetle can bury a bird in two or three hours, and so perfectly as to leave no trace of what has been going on. This is always performed by the male, the female sitting placidly on the object to be buried, up to a cer |