Our and My.

HAVE you ever thought of the difference between our and my? Perhaps you are ready to say that they are both personal pronouns, of the first person, in the possessive case, and all the difference between them is that my is in the singular, and our is in the plural number. It seems to me that this is not the whole difference. Our implies a partnership, and my implies an individual concern. There is a great difference between being able to say, 'This is our house,' and 'This is my house; or, "This is our steamboat,' and 'This is my steamboat; or, This is our farm,' and "This is my farm.' Our implies that I have only a share of the property, but my implies that I am the sole proprietor.

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Now, because this steamboat is ours, and not mine, it is allowed to run on the Sabbath, and to supply its passengers with intoxicating drinks, and my conscience is not much troubled about it.

Beeause the railroads and steamboats are ours, and not mine, their boilers may burst, and their cars be smashed, and hundreds of lives lost, by the carelessness or drunkenness of our agents, and no one feel as though he were to blame.

And is it not so, also, in regard to benefaction? If favours are conferred on many others at the same time that they are on me, do I feel under the same obligation that I should if I were alone in receiving the favour? If God supplied me with man

na from day to day, while all others were dying with hunger, should I not feel under more obligations to Him than I now do, though all my supplies are constantly coming from his hand.

Suppose, in a dark and stormy night, a vessel, containing five hundred souls, is sailing directly towards a reef of rocks, where, if she strikes, every soul must be drowned. A kind man on shore, seeing their danger, suddenly kindles a beacon light, which causes the ship to change her course, and all are saved. Now, while all are glad and thankful that they have escaped impending ruin, does each one feel as grateful to their common benefactor as he would if he were the only one saved by his kindness? Far from it. It is doubtful whether the aggregate amount of gratitude which the whole five hundred, in the above supposed case, would make up, would equal what one individual, rescued alone, would give. The one who receives the favour alone cannot forget his individual obligation, by putting himself with the multitude, and saying, He was our benefactor;' but he will feel and say, 'He was my benefactor.'

I apprehend that this subject has a bearing also on our Divine Benefactor. As Christ is the Saviour of all them that believe, I fear that I do not feel that personal obligation to him that I should, if he had died only for me. I do not realise my obligations to him as I should in that case. Now, throw myself in with the whole race of

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Adam, and divide the guilt of sinning with an innumerable multitude, and, of course, I do not feel as guilty as I should if I were the only sinner. And so, in regard to my salvation, I put myself with the multitudes who will reap the benefit of Christ's death, and divide the feeling of gratitude with them. I know that I ought to feel as guilty and hell-deserving as though I were the only sinner in the universe, and as though the eyes of all other intelligent beings were turned upon me with abhorrence as an intolerable abomination.

And

I know that I ought to feel under just as much obligation to our Divine Saviour, as though I were the only one to be benefited

Sabbath

Hints to Young Sowers.

BY UNCLE HARRY.

by his mission into this world. I ought to realise (and I hope I do) that I am individually a sinner, and that Christ has become the surety and substitute for me as an individual sinner. He has become my substitute, as really as though he had not become such for any one else. While he died for our sins, he died for my sins.

"'T were you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.'

If I realised this, I would exclaim, My Saviour! My Lord, and my God.'-New York Evangelist.

Be careful how you sow! Let your words be mild. The child is young-the ground is soft, it is ready to receive seed.

'Speak gently to the little child,
Its love be sure to gain;
Teach it in accents soft and mild,
It may not long remain.'

Be careful what you sow! See that your seed is good. For though your seed be bad, it will grow. Error is a noxious weed, and will grow more quickly than the good. Take, then, your seed from the seed-basket of heaven-the Bible!

'See 'tis heavenly seed you sow-
For error would be sure to grow;
The Bible is the book of seeds;
Happy is he who careful reads!'

Here are a few seeds, sow them in faith, water them with prayer, watch over them in love, and look for the fruit. In due season ye shall reap, if ye faint not.'

1. I am a sinner. 2. I am a sinner, and in danger of endless punishment. 3. I am a sinner in need of a Saviour. 4. I am a sinner, and there is a Saviour. 5. I am a sinner, and this Saviour can save me. 6. I am a sinner, and this Saviour will save me, if I believe in him. 7. Faith is the means of salvation. 8. Faith does not merit salvation. 9. Then I am saved by grace, or favour, through faith. 10. Faith is 'taking God at his word '—an implicit reliance on the promises and word of God, as if they

Our Hope is in the Children.

IT is said that when Peter the Great, of Russia, desiring to introduce English manners into his kingdom, sent a number of young men to England, his jester called him a fool. Peter threatened to have him tossed in a blanket. if he did not make the assertion good. The jester called for a sheet of paper, and folding and rubbing it hard, desired Peter to remove the impressions there made. His Majesty could not. 'Why, then,' said the jester, ' do you send young men already impressed with Russian habits to England? Send children.' The jester was right. The hope of our missionaries depends much on the children they can educate. And so does the hope of the pastor at home.

The Little Peacemaker.

EUNICE, Amy, and Charles, two sisters and a brother, lived in BThe sisters were passionate and selfish, and often quarrelled. Charles was an affectionate, generous-hearted boy, and loved his sisters dearly. They were both older than he was, and were warmly attached to him. The sisters often quarrelled with each other, but never with him, for the very good reason that he never would quarrel with them. One day, I called to see them. We were together in the dining-room, having a pleasant chat and laugh. Charles had two of Peter Parley's books. He stood by me, showing me the pictures in one of them. Eunice and Amy had the other, looking at it, a little distance from us. Soon I heard Amy, in a fretful manner, say—

I want to take it.'

'You shall not touch it,' said Eunice. 'I say I will,' said Amy. 'Get along!' said Eunice; you shall not touch it till I have done looking at it.' 'I say I will,' said Amy. 'You have looked it all through before."

'I don't care if I have,' said Eunice; that is none of your business. You shall, not have it.'

'Give it up!' screamed Amy; and she flew at Eunice, to snatch it away from her. 'Stand off!' cried Eunice; and at the same time struck her sister on the head with the book.

Amy was fully of wrath, and struck Eunice in the face.

Thus they struck back and forth. All sisterly affection and gentleness were forgotten. They seemed full of deadly hartred, and beat each other like deadly enemies.

Charles-the dear boy!-felt sorry that his sisters should get angry and fight, and he tried to divert my attention, so that I should not notice it. But when they came to blows, I could not help but notice them.

What now did Charles do? Did he take sides with either of his sisters, and urge them to fight? No-the dear, kind little brother rushed in between them, regardless of himself, and cried out,

'O sisters! do stop this fighting and love each other.'

'Let Eunice give up the book, then,' said Amy struggling.

'I will not,' screamed Eunice, in great wrath; and at the same time, pushed

Charles down, who had hold of her arm, to keep her from striking Amy.

Charles sprang up, and again tried to separate them, and said,

Dear sisters, do stop fighting, and love each other, and you may have both the books.'

They finally stopped, and stood apart, regarding each other with a most angry unsisterly scowl of defiance. I wish all children were obliged to view themselves in a looking-glass when their faces become distorted with anger, just to see what horrible faces they make. I am sure it would help to cure their anger.

Charles came back to me, covered his face with his hands, and wept.

'I wish my dear sisters would not get angry, and fight,' said the gentle boy, his heart ready to burst with grief.

'I would not cry about it, Charles', said I. 'Perhaps they will not do so any more.' 'I would give them everything I have, if they would only love each other, and not quarrel,' said he.

'Can we not do something to reconcile them,' I asked, and make them cheerful and happy in each other's love?'

'Do try to get them together, and to love each other,' said the noble brother. 'See how cross they look at each other, and how unhappy they are. Do try to bring them together.'

Amy,' I asked, 'will you not come to

me?'

She stood sullen, and looked most wretched.

'Dear Amy,' I said, 'do come to me. I want to speak with you.'

After awhile, she came and stood beside me; and, as she did so, Charles put his arm around her, and drew her close up.

'My dear little girl,' said I, 'how sad and sorrowful it looks to see two sisters losing all sisterly affection, and fighting! You look most unhappy!'

Eunice would not let me see the book," said she, in excuse.

'What of that?' said I. 'That does not make your anger and fighting any more lovely; nor does it make you feel any happier to fight. Do you think it does, Eunice?'

Eunice was off in one corner of the room, looking very miserable, and said nothing.

'Do come here, dear Eunice,' said I, and tell me, do you think it is a pleasant

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She would not do it.

'Do kiss Amy,' said Charles. Eunice was stubborn.

'Amy, will not you kiss your sister?' I asked.

She looked at her, but hesitated.

'Do kiss her, sister,' said Charles; and the generous boy most passionately urged it.

'Do kiss Eunice, sister; do this once.' She refused.

'Well, Charles, my dear boy,' said I, 'you will kiss Amy!"

He threw his arms about her neck. She struggled to get away, but he would not be repulsed.

'Do be kind and loving to Eunice and me,' said he. You may have both my books, if you will.'

I could but turn away and weep, to see the generous brother's efforts to soothe and calm his angry sister. Poor Amy! she could not resist any longer the persevering affection of her brother. Her heart was ready to burst, and she clasped her brother to her bosom, exclaiming,

'I will, dear brother. I will love her, and you too, and never fight any more.'

Eunice could hold out no longer. She put her arms round them both; and there they all were, weeping for joy in each other's arms!

'There,' said I, as I drew the reconciled group to my bosom, mingling my tears with them how much happier we feel when we are loving and kind to another!

How much easier, and more pleasant, to be gentle and tender in our intercourse with one another!'

There the children stood by my sidetheir arms around one another and we had a sweet and happy time.

What a blessed peacemaker was Charles! All children who read this will wish they had just such a dear brother as he was. Instead of encouraging his sisters to fight, he most earnestly and affectionately sought to prevent it. Children, when they see two boys or girls fighting, often form a ring around and urge on-some one side, and some the other. They seem to think it is good fun to see brothers and sisters fight! It is a horrible sight to me! If anything is more horrible, it is to see a company of playmates standing around, shouting and urging them on!

How much more generous and noble the spirit and conduct of Charles! How tenderly and nobly he sought to sooth and comfort his sisters, and make them love each other! And he succeeded! Heaven bless the dear, generous boy! He blesses them, for he says, 'Blessed are the peacemakers''

We are all brothers and sisters. We have one Father in Heaven, who loves all his children. How horrible to see these brothers and sisters angry with one another and fighting! How horrible to see them urging one another in the deadly conflict! Our Father calls us, and says,My children, live in peace;' and these very children are shouting and clapping, and stimulating each other to mutual hatred and slaughter.

Then the party that kill the most and beat, fire cannon, ring bells, have feasts, sing and dance, and have processions, to boast and glory in their deeds of blood and murder. Brothers and sisters stimulating one another to deeds of blood! and to cap the climax of horror, thanking their common Father for helping them to butcher one another! Horrible! most horrible!

How much better to do as Charles didwind the arm of affection around our angry brethren, and soothe and calm their wrathful feeliugs, and prevent them from wounding and murdering one another!

There is not a man living, who would not approve the sweet spirit and generous conduct of Charles. Blessings on him!' all must say. Let all imitate him, and then will be said of us all, 'Blessed are the peacemakers!'

Printed by JOHN KENNEDY, at his Printing Office, 35

Portman Place, Maida Hill, in the County of Middlesex' London. December, 1850.