⚫was a tempting offer, but Mr. Harlow had received many such. The church in Blankshire, a wealthy, fashionable people, had very urgently solicited him to leave two years ago, when the slavery question had so nearly divided our people; and only last winter the Trustees of — College invited him to accept a professorship. But he had steadfastly refused all offers of advancement; which plainly showed to Mrs. Clavers's mind that her pastor was not ambitious in a worldly point of view, nor seeking notoriety. She said an earnest, sincere desire to do good, an ardent love for his great Master's work, would detain him in this country village.

And was Mrs. Clavers right? We will visit the pastor's study to see what we can gather there.

morrow.

'Tis Saturday evening, and the all-engrossing question must be decided upon the The young pastor's face is pale and anxious, and he leans, tenderly over the chair where his wife is sitting, gazing earnestly into her dark eyes, as though he would read in their clear depths the unexpressed thoughts of her soul.

"Then you will not help me to decide, Louise?"

"The question is between yourself and God, Eugene."

"But if I could be quite as useful in another field, and your happiness could be enhanced by the removal, ought I not to accept ?"

"During the ten years it has pleased God to bless me with your love, Eugene, have I ever given you reason to suppose that my happiness could be augmented by removing from this village? Your country is my country, your God my God, and wherever our Master sees fit for us to serve Him, basking in the light of His smile, and blessed with the consciousness of your love, I am happy. No earthly honour could tempt me to leave."

"Bless you, my own true-hearted wife, for these words; they have given me new strength. I have hesitated in deciding to remain with this secluded band, because I feared you might have some secret longings for the city life and friends, which you resigned for me. Occasionally something has whispered to my soul that possibly I might be more useful in a large, flourishing city; but, Louise, I have sought most earnestly and prayerfully to know God's will in the decision of this question, and I have decided to remain.

"I did not mean our people should know we had been tempted again, but the Committee sent by the city people to press their claims, trumpeted their mission around the village, and it has been the common streettalk for a whole week. Not a member of the church has attempted to influence me in making a decision, and this shows the pure-minded, honourable feeling which is a characteristic of our people.

"Deacon Granger met me in the postoffice yesterday, and as he pressed my hand in his rough, honest palm, he attempted to speak, but his voice was tremulous and husky, and when he turned from me I saw large drops falling from his eyes. The young converts whom it was my glorious privilege to baptize last summer, look at me so earnestly and anxiously, that it would be hard to resist their silent pleadings."

Sabbath morning came. What person, who was within the walls of that old village church in M-, will ever forget the almost breathless silence with which every heart listened for the words that fell from their young pastor's lips? We will listen too.

"Eight years ago you opened your arms to receive me, a boy sighing for the pleasures of his father's fireside, a student fresh from the Theological Seminary, a novice in the sacred office whose duties I proposed to discharge. I did not come to this quiet village to make it a post of observation for a more eligible situation, but I came to find a home to break for you, humbly and prayerfully, the bread of life. You have borne and forgiven my youthful follies, strengthened my hands in many a trying hour, and now, when experience has qualified me to serve you more faithfully and acceptably, I cannot find it in my heart to sever the chords which have been gathering strength for so many years. I will still remain until a respectable minority of my parish desire me to go, or until Providence clearly points to another field of labour."

We cannot record here all the tender, glowing eloquence, of that simple speech; but many brave, manly hearts, that had strongly fortified themselves to hear him announce his intention of leaving, now found themselves unprepared for his remaining, and few, very few, were there who scorned to be found in a "melting mood."

A few crusty, soured hearts, that will need all of the light and love of the celestial world to melt their natural iciness, remained silent and aloof; but there are iced hearts in

every congregation-what a pity that there are!-From an American Paper.

THE POWER OF CHRISTIAN
SYMPATHY.

A few months since, in a crowded railway carriage, where were gathered persons of every variety of age, rank, and condition in life, were two who might be easily distinguished from all others by the deep impress which disease, care, and solicitude, had left, both on the countenance and form. A mother and son: she a small, delicate woman, apparently ill fitted by nature for the endurance of heavy trials, and yet every look and tone betokening that she was not now making her first acquaintance with affliction; the son, a young man just arrived at mature years, with a form tall, and well proportioned, and a brow noble and expanded, the natural protector of that delicate mother, for she was a widow, and he her eldest born. In addition to this, to him had her expiring husband especially committed the charge of his mother and younger brothers and sisters, and he, even in boyhood, had felt the responsibility of the charge, and with most exemplary filial and fraternal love, had all along denied himself many youthful pleasures for their sakes, saying to his young associates, “I cannot go on that excursion, my mother is a widow." But, alas! the order of nature is reversed. The feeble mother must become the protector and the supporter, and the charge of the earthly father must give place to His will "who seeth not as man seeth."

For several months Henry F― had been wasting away with consumption, that insatiable disease which had taken his father, and subsequently a lovely sister, to the grave; and now it was evident, even to the strangers who surrounded him, that the fatal work was almost accomplished in his case. How emaciated that noble form, how weak and powerless that manly arm. How laboured that respiration, and how sunken that eye which turns so often with a look of mingled agony and love to that fond mother. He lays his head on her shoulder, and whispers, "If I were at home now, I should not rise from my bed." But the carriages keep on with ceaseless motion, and the company around continue their loud talk and boisterous laugh. At length Henry becomes so distressed that he can

The

proceed no farther, and his mother says to the guard, "We must be left at the next station." They were set out on a platform, and the station-master handed them their trunks. The noisy train with its gazing passengers moved away. Across a lawn, a short distance from them, they felt rejoiced to see a public house; but Henry was unable to walk there with merely the assistance of his mother, and as she saw two men standing by, she asked them if they would have the kindness to assist him in walking there. With utter indifference they turned and walked away. agonized mother was then obliged to leave her son sitting on the platform alone, while she ran to the house for assistance. This was a dark period in Henry's earthly sojourn. Those moments while he waited alone, feeling almost ready to fall back and die, perhaps formed the acme of that period. Henry F was not passing thus rapidly into eternity without preparation for that event. Oh, no, he had early given his heart to God, and his christian character had been as consistent and faithful as his natural character was lovely and unblemished. He recognized the hand of his heavenly Father in the afflictions which attended him, but his spirits were sometimes depressed, and he was greatly perplexed by the providences of God. "I thought I had so much to do for you and the children," said he to his mother. I had "What will you do without me? just got ready to go into business for myself, and thought I was healthy and strong before this cough came on. It is very mysterious and unexpected for me to be taken away so early.”

Mrs. F had travelled with her son from his native płace, hoping much from a change of climate; at first he had improved, but a change came, and he had declined so rapidly that she had but a faint hope of his reaching home. During those few moments that the trembling invalid waited alone, he might have mentally exclaimed, "Why am I thus deserted? Two men enjoying the vigour of health refused to lend me a little of their strength ! How gladly would I have aided them, or any fellow-being in distress, when I was favoured with health!" True, Henry, but this is one of the allotments of that state of being, where the most deserving often receive the least. Thou art not alone in thy desertion. It is enough for the disciple that he be as his Lord.

Mrs. F found kind people and good accommodations at the public house, and the next morning Henry felt so far refreshed that he resumed his journey. And now the scene changes with regard to desertion and depression of spirits. Henry had passed his last desponding day. The providence of a tender Father was watching over him, and had ordered that in the carriage in which he now took a seat was a christian gentleman who exercised a large share of the spirit of his Master. He did not observe the distressed stranger with indifference, nor with common, but christian sympathy. He soon came near and accosted Mrs. F with the remark, "I perceive you are travelling with a sick friend." Having ascertained that it was a darling son over whom she was watching, he entered in the kindest manner into her feelings of care and anxiety, aiding and assisting her in a thousand little ways, and greatly alleviating her solicitude by leading her to feel that another besides herself was watching every movement, and anticipating every want, of the distressed invalid. By degrees he entered into conversation with Henry, and doubtless his pious heart glowed with gratitude and joy as the youthful stranger told him, as far as his strength would allow, of his early hope in Christ, and all the way which the Lord had led him, not omitting to speak of the dark cloud which had lately overshadowed his mind. At this point the stranger seemed particularly qualified to perform a heavenly mission. His mind was imbued with the rich truths of the gospel, his speech was fluent, and his manner affectionate. As Mrs. F afterwards remarked, "He said just the right things." The promises of Scripture were presented to the desponding mind, and dwelt on with delightful fervour. When speaking of reaching home, the stranger turned the conversation towards the heavenly home, and expatiated on its never-ending blesseduess. The countenance of the invalid brightened, bis drooping hope revived, his faith laid fresh hold on the precious Saviour. Feeble as he was, that day's journey was comparatively comfortable. So highly blessed were the words of this stranger, that from that day the spirit of the invalid rose above the clogs of earth, and plumed its wings for heaven. He died a few weeks after in the triumphs of faith. Although he never saw the earthly home for which he longed, the heavenly and eternal home he soon reached.

LONG GRACES AND LITTLE
CHILDREN.

My good Aunt Jane resided in a housenext to the parsonage. One morning, when there on a visit, one of the minister's little boys came running in, and said to my aunt: "Do, Aunt Janey, give me a piece of bread and butter, please." Aunt Jane replied, "Oh, your breakfast bell will ring immediately." "I know that, Aunt Janey," said the little child, "but I's so hungry, and Pa says so long a grace." Aunt Jane went and gave him bread and butter.

On another occasion, being at the house of a minister of my acquaintance when he was salting down his winter's beef, one of his little boys climbed up by the hoops and looked into the barrel. Fearing lest he might fall in, his father lifted him down, when the child looked in his face and said: "Pa, I wish you would say grace on all the beef in the barrel." "Why, my child ?" asked his father. "Because, then," replied the child, "I would not have to wait so long every time you say grace."

What a mistake in parents, having little children, to indulge in the habit of long graces or long family prayers! These, to be pleasant to the children, should be short and sweet. How often have I seen both the patience and appetites of the little ones rudely taxed by long graces, and all put soundly to sleep by long evening prayers. This is wrong, very wrong; religion should be made pleasant by its services, not a task and burden to their little minds.

Speaking of long graces puts me in mind of a most laughable circumstance which happened in Edinburgh. Four persons had been publicly set apart to missionary work in Tartary, in Lady Glenorchy's chapel, and were to sail the next week for St. Petersburgh. A pious aged lady, who felt great interest in the work of missions, made a dinner for the missionaries, and bade many. When the party, which was exceedingly large, were all seated at the tables, the lady was seen standing at the head looking over her spectacles, in search of some one. Clergymen sat on each side of her, and others near by to her. But she looked over them all, to see who were at the other tables. At last one of the company asked her if she was looking for any one in particular. "I am," said she, "looking for the Rev. Dr. B—; for if I ask my good friend, the Rev. Dr. F--, to ask the blessing, the dinner will all be spoiled, and

I want the Rev. Dr. B-to ask it." I need not add that the laughter was so great that the Doctor was scarcely heard. This little anecdote shows the impropriety of long graces in a new point of view," the dinner will be spoiled."

Since I am on anecdotes, I would mention one more, to show how very soon children begin to take notice, form their own judgment, and think for themselves.

A minister, on a Sabbath evening, was admonishing his children against the sin of telling lies, when one of the little creatures

looked at him and said, "Pa, don't you sometimes tell lies ?" He replied, "I hope not, my dear; what makes you think I tell lies?" "Pa, you said in the pulpit to-day, 'One word more and I am done,' and then you said many more words; and again you said, 'One word more and I am done,' and you still said many more words; and you often said, "One word more and I am done,' and every time said many more words. Pa, was not that telling lies?" I need not add that this little incident cured the minister of so bad a habit.

THE DUTY OF CHRISTIANS TO HELP ONE ANOTHER IN THE WAY OF TRADE.

[To the Editors of "The Church."

Dear Sirs,

Taking up an old number of the Evangelical Magazine, I found in it the following article, which is worthy of the attention of all members of christian churches, and I shall be much gratified if you think it suitable for insertion in your excellent periodical. The subject of the article is thought by many of but little importance, or perhaps by most christians it is not considered at all. As your valuable periodical is extensively read, I forward it, hoping that, if inserted, its perusal will lead to a consideration and adoption of the principle.

I am, dear Sirs, yours truly,

A CONSTANT READER.]

This duty, though sufficiently enjoined in Scripture, is not, it is to be feared, duly considered and attended to as it ought to be by many, who not only bear the christian name, but really belong to our christian churches, where some pains are taken to ascertain the reality of their religion, and the certainty of their being partakers of the vital principle of godliness. That it is incumbent upon the members of christian churches to help one another as it respects bearing one another's burdens, administering reproof or consolation as circumstances may require, sympathising with one another

under the trying and afflictive dispensations of Divine Providence, and in promoting and supporting those works of faith and labours of love in which the members of the household of faith are called to engage, is obvious from many plain and express admonitions. "Brethren," says the apostle, "if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such a one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ" (Gal. vi. 1, 2). "Wherefore, comfort yourselves and edify one another; warn them that are unruly, comfort the feeble-minded, support the weak, be patient toward all men." (1 Thess. v. 14, &c.) These are plain requirements, though not so much regarded as they ought to be; but the writer of this paper is desirous of appealing to the conscience, and laying it before the minds of his christian brethren, whether those of them who are engaged in trade ought not to help one another in the way of business, more commonly and conscientiously than, it is believed, is really found to be the

case.

"Dare any of you," says the apostle, "having a matter against another, go to law before the unjust, and not before the saints?" (1 Cor. vi. 1-8.) And if such matters ought to be settled among and by professed christians themselves, surely they ought to maintain more frequent intercourse in the way of buying and selling among themselves than upon enquiry appears to be done. A christian tradesman and a private individual goes where he supposes he can make his purchases cheap

est and best, unmindful of the character to whom he applies, and of whom he purchases; and this at first sight may appear to be correct and proper, and that every man is at liberty to go where he can do the best for his family. This may be worldly policy, but it is not scriptural reasoning; it is not acting in accordance with the statutes of Zion's King; it is not, as professing christians, doing to others as we would they should do unto us. Far from it. As professing christians we should wish our brethren to deal with us, and surely we ought to deal with them. Besides that, we are required to help one another in that volume which is given to be a light unto the feet and a lamp unto the path; we may expect fair and honest dealing among each other, which is not always the case among those who are strangers to true religion. We say not that all worldly men are rogues,-far from it; many are very honest and upright in their transactions, and their word may be trusted, but the members of christian churches, if they act in character, must prove that the grace of God which bringeth salvation hath taught them to live righteously, soberly, and godly, in this present evil world. If principle is to be found anywhere, surely it ought and may be expected among those professing godliness; and if it be not uniformly found, it is certainly to be looked for from such a quarter, rather than where there is no profession at all.

Farther, the members of our christian churches should help one another in the way here pointed out, because in so doing they may fairly reckon upon helping the cause of God, and the interests of religion in the world at large. Yes, in thus dealing with one another they have the firmest ground for hope that some portion of the profits will be employed for the enlargement of the Redeemer's kingdom, which they profess to love and desire to promote. In the other case, they know that a certain portion will be spent in a way which they themselves dare not expend it, namely, in gratifying the lust of the flesh, fashionable amusements, &c. Now, is it right for christians, men of God, men professing godliness, to lend themselves in this way to the support of those practices in others which

they dare not themselves adopt? Surely not! Oh, no! Christian men should make a point of dealing with christian men in preference to any other, whatever supposed or real advantages may be expected from such dealing in the one case, which may not extend to the same degree in the other.

There may be circumstances, it can easily be answered, which may enable one person to do business on a larger and better scale than another; but among professing christians some sacrifice should be cheerfully made, rather than worldlings should be preferred to those who it is well known are on the Lord's side, and desirous of aiding and supporting his cause. Too often do we hear it said, to our mortification and sorrow," If the members of our church only laid out with us a part of what they Jay out with those who make no profession of religion at all, and are seen in the circles of fashion and dissipation, we should be able to do more for the support and comfort of our minister, and those societies connected with our christian sanctuary; but we have less intercourse in the way of business with those who worship with us than our other neighbours who attend elsewhere, or go nowhere at all." Surely, brethren, these things ought not so to be. Consider what we say, and let a different line mark your future conduct.

There should be a decided preference given by christians themselves, we conceive, to the members of the household of faith on the ground of their character and profession, which exposes them to worldly losses and even to great opposition, as well as on the ground of the manner in which some portion of the profits are sure to be devoted. The Friends or Quakers, it is believed, act upon this principle, and hence it is they have so few poor members among them, and that those few are never found seeking aid from any other quarter. Why should it not be so among our dissenting churches? Let us, from principle, deal with, and employ one another, and a very different scene will be presented among the members of our respective communions: the hands of many will be strengthened; the hearts of many will be made glad; and the great cause of truth and righteousness will receive a vast increase of support.