HRISTIAN truth has spread over our country to such an extent as to make some who are rich and strong care for the poor and weak, for the afflicted and suffering. Some merciful persons have put their kind feelings into such substantial forms that sad hearts are comforted and sorrow's tears are wiped away. Infirmaries, dispensaries, and asylums for the blind, the deaf, and the dumb, adorn our land. Mercy's silvery stream is flowing into the narrow streets, open courts, and tiny cottages of the little town of Louth. Mercy gives the poor warm clothing, nourishing muttonchops, hot milky puddings, soup, and coal to brighten the otherwise cheerless hearth. Its invigorating streams have also run outside the town, up some rising ground, into the midst of green meadows, and the result is an unsectarian hospital for the poor of Louth and its neighbourhood. The noble purpose was executed in 1873, at a cost of £2,000. The building, which is of white. brick with red bands, has some twenty beds. It stands in its own grounds, with shrubs, grass, and flowers of its own near, and many beautiful objects round about it belonging to its friends, on which the eye of the recovering patient can pleasingly gaze. It is built at a short distance from the din and noise of our busy streets and marketplace. A beautiful building! Its rooms are lofty, light, well ventilated and sweetly clean. Outside there is a large veranda for the use of patients in suitable weather and times,

It is a peaceful retreat for the afflicted and suffering. Some houses are places of disorder and noise-the family is large, the neighbourhood is populous and all on the stir, so that if an afflicted lad dozes during the day, he is all but sure to be startled by some sudden noise. Not so at our hospital, it is so far from the shout of boisterous and healthy boys, that usually his day repose is undisturbed. I have met with youths in this peaceful retreat who found it a great advantage to be there. The butcher boy did—a lad who had brought to our house many a joint of meat. One Saturday I found he was an inmate of our hospital. He was carefully wrapped up in flannel; he was very weak, racked with pain, life trembling in the balance; the rheumatic fever had fast hold of every part of his body. This is a cruel companion for young or old. He was nine miles from home, and a comparative stranger in the town. What an immense blessing was our hospital to him! There is no railroad within three or four miles of his father's home. How painful and dangerous for him to have been driven those weary miles in an open jolting cart ; our hospital saved him from this hardship and risk.

There was another dear lad about fifteen years of age, who came to grief on New Year's Eve; he was exercising in the gymnasium, when in an instant he came to the floor with a crash. Poor lad, he had broken his leg. No bright opening of 1878 for him; but the door of the peaceful retreat was open to receive him, and all that human skill and kindness could do to sweeten his bitter cup was done.

Another youth, who had been learning the grocery business, was checked in his useful calling by a severe affection of the spine. Unable to walk or stand, he was taken to

our hospital six months ago, having lost by death both father and mother; this is a dark and sad lot. As far as I could judge or learn, these three suffering lads were remarkably patient and content. My visits. seemed to yield them comfort and joy.

Perhaps my young reader has never met with a great accident-never had a severe affliction. Day after day you have been able to run, jump, and play with any boy. Then let thanks to God on high fill your heart, and pity, help, and pray for those whose path is rough. Perhaps night after night the warm kisses of a loving father and mother are printed on your blooming cheeks, and you retire to your bed-room - covered with a parent's prayer. Then, oh! my young friend, think of the thousands who are orphans, who receive no such loving kiss, who hear no father's nor mother's voice on their behalf saying, "Saviour, breathe an evening blessing." Greatly honour thy father and thy mother. Befriend through life, as God shall give thee power, the poor, afflicted, and the orphan.

one

A Bristol friend of mine, Mr. Dday when in Holborn, London, fell into conversation with a sharp and fine-looking office boy. Having chatted some time, my friend learned from the boy that his mother was a widow, and that his wages were five shillings a week. In answer to Mr. D.'s inquiry, "What do you do with your wages?" the lad promptly answered, "I give my mother all the money, and she gives me sixpence a week for my own use." "How do you spend your sixpence ?" said my friend. "Well," replied the boy, "I put threepence in a box every week to buy my own clothes. I bought this jacket, sir," pointing with no small delight to the good blue jacket he was wearing. "How much did you pay for it, my boy?" "Twelve shillings, sir." "What else do you do?" The lad instantly said, "I give a penny a week to Mr. Spurgeon's Orphanage."

Here the questioning dropped, for my friend thought that the remaining twopence would be sure to be well spent by such a noble youth.

Has any charitable work, as Spurgeon's Orphanage, got such a practical hold of your heart, my dear young friend?

In our hospital, patients have religious helps; Christian ministers and friends may and do visit them, to guide the unsaved to Christ if possible, and by their prayers and sympathy to refresh the spirits of suffering saints. Bibles and Christian literature are also freely supplied.

Solemn events sometimes occur in our hospital. The sad prints of sin come before us in appalling forms. Take the following case of Tuesday, the 8th of January last. On returning home from a noonday prayer-meeting, I found awaiting me a request from the matron of our hospital to go immediately to see a dying young man. At once I hastened thither. Father and sister were in the sufferer's room as the matron quietly led me to his bedside. He was a young man of fair complexion, with a spacious forehead, and twenty-four years of age. He was suffering from bronchitis and other complaints, but perfectly conscious. He had only been brought that morning. Learning that he was without Christ, I set before him the riches of his Saviour's grace, and cited the blessed words, "Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation."

He turned towards me his large blue eyes, and said, three or four times, with an emphasis that drove sadness to my heart, "I have delayed too long, I have delayed too long." By these words my own heart was melted, my tears flowed while I tenderly strove to lead the young dying wanderer to Jesus. Jointly we prayed as best we could for mercy; with what result I dare not say. In a few hours he became unconscious of all around him; neither my words nor

those spoken to him by the gentle matron brought any answer. Death's shade fell on him the same evening, and at ten minutes past six o'clock he died.

He had no mother, his father was out of work, too poor to bear the funeral expenses of his child, so the young man was interred by the parish. Friday following was the day of his funeral, and at his father's request I officiated.

My young readers, this poor man had been reared in Louth, in a Christian Sunday-school, sat under an earnest gospel ministry; he had learnt a good trade with a teetotal, godly, and an intelligent man; was once a band of hope boy. He left home when young; went first to Lincoln, Myrtle House, Louth.

then to Boston; was drawn into evil company; began to indulge in that subtle and deadly foe, drink. It soon brought him to poverty, suffering, and death. Youthful reader, male and female, cherish a holy dread of sin, of evil companions, of all intoxicating drinks, and of neglecting the great and bliss-inspiring salvation of Christ. When you feel your own weakness and when you see your own great danger, look unto Him who is able to save, and in a trusting spirit pray :

"Abide with me, my Saviour,

And ever lead me right;
Protect me in temptation's hour,
Keep me from worldly blight;
Beneath Thy wing, oh ! let me hide,
Close to Thy dear and shelt'ring side."
J. GARSIDE.

ANA is the name of a Galilean town

famous because in it the Saviour attended a wedding feast. The Parable of the Virgins is true to Oriental life, for, as Canon Farrar remarks, marriages in the East are celebrated in the evening. In Greece and in Palestine it was the custom

"To bear away

The bride from home at blushing shut of day,"

or even later, far on into the night, covered from head to foot in her loose and flowing veil, garlanded with flowers, and dressed in her fairest robes. She was heralded by torchlight, with songs and dances, and the music of the drum and flute, to the bridegroom's house. She was attended by the maidens of her village, and the bridegroom came to meet her with his youthful friends. Legend says that on the occasion when the Saviour was invited, Nathanael was the pa

ranymph whose duty it was to escort the bride; but the presence of Mary, who must have left Nazareth on purpose to be present at the wedding, seems to show that one of the bridal pair was some member of the Holy Family. Jesus, too, was invited, and His disciples, and the Scripture implies that they were invited for His sake, not He for theirs. It is not likely, therefore, that Nathanael, who had only heard the name of Jesus two days before, had anything to do with the marriage. All positive conjecture is idle; but the fact that Mary evidently took a leading position in the house, and commands the servants in a tone of authority, renders it most probable that this may have been the wedding of one of her nephews, the sons of Alphæus, or even of one of her daughters, "the sisters of Jesus," to whom tradition gives the names Esther and Thamar.