"HOW FAVOURED I AM!”

PASTOR tells the following story of one of his flock:She was a poor widow, and supported herself with the most rigid economy by knitting.

I saw her in the intense cold of last winter. The house was one upon which time had made such sad ravages that only one room could now be inhabited; and in that she dared not have a fire when the wind blew hard, because the chimney had become unsafe.

"How favoured I am!" she said, "for when it has been coldest, the wind didn't blow much; or there was so much snow on the house, I could have a fire without danger; I cannot be thankful enough; and then," she continued, " Joseph has been at home nights almost all winter, and he could get my wood and water when there was so much snow that I could not get out."

"But do you not feel very lonely while Joseph is away?" "Oh no; I get along very well through the day (her Bible lay on the table by which she was sewing), and when I can see the neighbours' lights in the evening, they are company for me.

I

have thought a good deal about sick people this winter; and then I think how favoured I am that I can go to bed and sleep all night in health."

I saw her again to-day. Rheumatism had disabled one foot, and she sat sewing, with a swollen, painful limb raised upon a cushion. "How favoured I am!" she exclaimed; "when my poor Lydia was alive, I lost the use of both my feet for a time, and she took care of me; but now I can get about by moving my foot upon a chair, and I make out to do my work, and get Joseph's meals ready nicely. What if it had been my hands? How favoured I am!"

Art thou contented, O Christian, with a little? thou shalt see greater things than these; God will distil the sweet influences of His love into thy soul; He will raise thee up friends; He will bless the oil in the cruse; and when that is done, He will crown thee with an eternal enjoyment of Himself. He will give thee heaven, where thou shalt have as much contentment as thy soul can possibly thirst after.

THE WIDOW'S

I HAVE never forgotten
The widow's reply,

When her home was o'ershadowed,

And pity stood by. But still she was happy,

For the Lord was her trust; And smiling she said,

"I have Christ and a crust."

How simple the words!

Yet the truth they unfold Is worthy of marble

And letters of gold;
But I should prefer

That the truth they impart
Be embalmed in my soul
And engraved on my heart.

The palace of pleasure,

And mansions of state, May seem more inviting

To the rich and the great;
But give me the humble

Abode of the just,
And to say with the widow,

"I have Christ and a crust."

REPLY.

O happy contentment!

But a "fruit" rather rare,
Like Habakkuk's fig-tree,
With " one here and there:"
For Christians, in these days,
Are inclined to be gay,
And the "purple and gold"
Show a love of display.

Yet the pretty thatched cottage,
Where the widow resides,
Her little deal table,

And her Bible besides;
Her "treasure" concealed
Where it never can "rust,"-
All these are delightful

With "Christ and a crust."

Oh then in the season
When trouble is nigh,
Let us ever remember
The widow's reply;
And though desolation
Lay us low in the dust,
We'll try to be cheerful,

Having "Christ and a crust."

LET us not seek contentment in outward things, but in our own minds; for all the world and worldly things cannot bring it to our hearts, unless we first bring contentment to them; as our clothes cannot give warmth to our bodies, unless our bodies first give it to them.-Down ame.

THE LADY AND THE ROBBER.

IN a large, lone house, in the south of England, there once lived a lady and her two maid-servants. They were away from any other human habitation, but they seemed to have felt no fear, and to have dwelt there peacefully and happily. It was the lady's custom to go round the house with her maids every evening, to see that all the windows and doors were properly secured.

One night she had accompanied them as usual, and ascertained that all was safe. They left her in the passage close to her room, and then went to their own, which was quite at the other side of the house. As the lady opened her door she distinctly saw a man underneath her bed. What could she do? Her servants were far away, and could not hear if she screamed for help; and even if they had come to her assistance, those three weak women were no match for a desperate housebreaker. How, then, did she act? She trusted in God. Quietly she closed the door, and locked it on the inside, which she was always in the habit of doing. She then leisurely brushed her hair, and putting on her gown, she took her Bible and sat down to read. She read aloud, and chose a chapter which had special reference to God's watchfulness over us, and constant care over us by night and by day (probably the ninety-first Psalm). When it was finished, she knelt and prayed at great length, still uttering her words aloud, particularly commending herself and servants to God's protection, and dwelling upon their utter helplessness and dependence upon Him to preserve them from all dangers.

At last she rose from her knees, put out the candle, and went to bed; but she did not sleep. After a few minutes, she was conscious the man was standing by her bedside. He addressed her, and told her not to be alarmed. "I came here," said he, " to rob you; but after the words you have read and the prayer you have uttered, no power on earth could induce me to hurt you or touch a thing in your house. But you must remain perfectly quiet, and not attempt to interfere with me. I shall now give a signal to my companions, which they will understand, and then they will go away and you may sleep in peace; for I give you my solemn word that no one shall harm you, and not the smallest thing belonging to you shall be disturbed."

He then went to the window, opened it, and whistled softly. Returning to the lady's bedside, who had not spoken or moved, he said

"Now I am going. Your prayer. has been heard, and no harm will befal you."

He left the room, and soon all was quiet, and the lady fell asleep, still upheld by that calm and beautiful faith and trust.

When the morning dawned and she awoke, we may feel sure that she poured out her thanksgiving and praise to Him who had "defended" her under "His wings," and "kept" her "safe under his feathers," so that she was not afraid of any "terror by night." The man proved true to his word, and not a thing in her house was taken. Oh! shall we not hope that his heart was changed from that day forth, and that he forsook his evil courses, and cried to that Saviour "who came to seek and to save that which was lost," and even on the cross, did not reject the penitent thief.

The robber told her if she had given the slightest alarm and token of resistance, he was fully determined to murder her; so that it was really God's guidance that told her to follow the course she did. Then before he went away, he said, "I never heard such words before; I must have the book you read out of;" and carried off the Bible,-willingly enough given, you may be sure.

This happened many years ago, and only comparatively recently did the lady hear any more of him. She was attending a religious meeting in Yorkshire, where, after several noted clergymen and others had spoken, a man arose, stating that he was employed as one of the book-hawkers of the Society, and told the story of the midnight adventure, as a testimony to the wonderful power of the word of God. He concluded with, "I am that man." The lady arose from her seat in the hall, and said quietly, " It is all quite true, I am the lady," and sat down again.

“THOU WILT KEEP HIM IN PERFECT PEACE, WHOSE MIND IS STAYED ON THEE, BECAUSE HE TRUSTETH IN THEE. TRUST YE IN THE LORD FOR EVER; FOR IN THE LORD JEHOVAH is EVERLASTING STRENGTH." -Isa. xxvi. 3, 4.

TRUST IN GOD.-To trust God when our warehouses and bags are full and our tables spread, is no hard thing; but to trust Him when our purses are empty, but a handful of meal and cruse of oil left, and all the ways of relief stopped, herein lies the wisdom of a Christian's grace. Yet none are exempted from this duty; all are bound to acknowledge their trust in Him by the daily prayer for "daily bread;" even those that have it in their cupboards as well as those that want it; the greatest prince as well as the meanest beggar. Whatever your wants are, want not faith, and you cannot want supplies.-Charnock.

LORD, INCREASE OUR FAITH.

FARLEY COURT.

CHAPTER X.

THE MOTHER'S PRAYER ANSWERED.

HEN William Brown read Martha's letter, he was very much irritated; for resignation to the will of Providence was a thing he had never thought about. Be

sides, he considered Martha's reason quite a foolish one. He had never intended to interfere with her religious views when she became his wife; and he thought that quite sufficient on his part. Finding, however, that he could not prevail upon Martha to change her resolution, he told her that he would be married in three months; but with much pleading, Martha obtained the promise that he would wait one year for her sake. Martha was not thinking of herself when she pleaded for this promise: for at times, even now, she felt that her time on earth was short; but she was afraid that Willie, by his own impatience, might cause himself a life-time of misery. Disappointed in Martha, and fettered by his promise, and dissatisfied with everything, it was not surprising that William Brown longed to be again tossing on the wide ocean, which a few weeks before he had quitted so joyfully and with so much hope in the future. This wish, however, could not be gratified at once, so he returned to his home to pass a few weeks with his mother.

The air was keen and frosty, and the winter twilight was fading into darkness, as the sailor-youth opened the little gate leading to the home of his childhood. A light was in the window, and through the diamond-shaped panes it cast a light on the gardenwalk, as if to guide the wanderer home. Mrs. Brown was ironing by the window, but she heard the footstep and hastened to meet her son. Ah! what other earthly love is so pure and beautiful as the love of a true mother. It is a love which can live on in undimmed brightness, though the son or daughter may cast it aside and when all other love fails, it is then the strongest. There are but few who have gone down into the depths of adversity without feeling that some earthly love or friendship, which before they held so dear, failed them in their dark hour, when they needed it the most. Not of this nature did Willie find a mother's love. A vague idea of sympathy and comfort stole into his mind as he entered the cottage.

"O mother," he said, as he seated himself by the fire, "this seems to me the brightest place this world contains."

Never before had the soothing tones of his mother been so welcome as now. Before reaching home, he had wished that he could fly from himself-from his own thoughts-and from past associations; for thought and feeling were at war, and there was strife within his breast, till at times he felt afraid of himself.