crown of earthly monarchs; and in the same way He is fitting thee to be a glory in His own diadem. Patiently, patiently suffer His will, and thou wilt hereafter see that it was all to make thee more glorious in the eternal kingdom.

"THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER GODS

BUT ME."

"COME closer and read to me, Ellen, of that land to which I am hastening; read to me quickly, for I shall soon hear your voice no more." With tearful eyes, and voice choked with emotion, the young wife, soon to be a lonely widow, opened a small Bible at one of the well-worn pages, and read the first verse that caught her attention: "For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face. Now

I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known." A holy smile illumined the features of the dying saint, as the blessed words wafted over his spirit, like a perfumed breeze, telling of that eternal life of joy which awaited him, and which he was rapidly nearing. He fixed his brightening eyes on his wife, and said: "Weep not, my Ellen, the separation will not be for long, and you will promise to meet me above; will you not ?" he asked. And, glancing at the sleeping babe in the cot near, he added, "Bring up our babe for heaven, and may we all meet there in glory." Ellen bent over and imprinted a kiss on the pale cheek of him she knew she could not much longer retain on earth, and feebly promised. "Farewell," he murmured, "Jesus is near, the Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want, even through the valley of the shadow of death I shall not fear; Thou art with me,' he added, joyfully gazing upwards, then closed his beaming eyes, to open them in the land where shall be no pain, no night, no death, and where his enraptured sight shall behold Him whom his soul loved.

Edward Moreton was an earnest young Christian, devoting his life to the service of his Lord and Master, and a long life of usefulness appeared before him; but He who doeth all things well saw fit to remove his faithful servant from earth. Edward had been married but two years, when, on returning from a visit to a sick and dying man, he took cold, which ended in death. Poor Ellen, she felt the loneliness of her situation and widowhood; in her younger days she, too, had been a bright, zealous Christian, but lately new cares, new joys, and fresh scenes in life, instead of drawing her closer to her Saviour, she had allowed to estrange her heart from that high and lofty position in grace she once possessed. True, she walked circumspectly, and enjoyed religion, but it was not the first, purest flow of her heart; and even now, in her sorrow, she turned more than ever from its divine consolations, and murmured against the dispensation of the Almighty in removing her cherished idol. But she raised another, and the infant Percy became the centre of her affections, the darling of her heart. Well would it have been for Ellen if she had prayed for more grace for new trials, and, humbling herself before God, consecrated herself afresh to Him, and offered up her child a living sacrifice to his heavenly Father. Three years passed away, and the little Percy was grown engaging and childishly beautiful, and his mother loved to take him in her arms and trace the likeness of her departed Edward; and she set him up in the holiest niche of her heart, and worshipped him with all the love of a devoted mother. But He who had said, "Thou shalt worship none but me" looked with mercy and compassion on his erring one, and in love removed the idol, that her heart might yet return to him. And one night her precious and beloved Percy was snatched from her arms, and borne on angels' wings to the Saviour's bosom. At first Ellen was inconsolable, her grief stunned her, but God opened her eyes, and, with heartbroken sorrow, she could see her sin in forsaking her

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God and clinging to earthly treasures; and with humbled spirit did she plead at the throne of grace, and obtained once again forgiveness of her sins, and her tearful cry was, Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." Ellen still lives, and though a lonely and childless widow, she murmurs not at the loss of her loved ones, but looks forward to a brighter re-union in the glorious land. And should any one ask her how she can live so lonely, and yet so peaceful and contented, she would point to heaven, and, with tearful eyes, answer

"There is my house, my portion fair,
My treasures, and my heart is there,
And my abiding home."

Sent by Eva J. MILLWARD.

WHICH IS THE HAPPIEST DEATH TO DIE?

Which is the happiest death to die?
"Oh!" said one, "if I might choose,
Long at the gate of bliss would I lie,
And feast my spirit ere it fly,

With bright celestial views.

Mine were a lingering death, without pain,
A death which all might love to see ;
And mark how bright and sweet should be
The victory I should gain !

"Fain would I catch a hymn of love
From the angel harps which ring above,
And sing it as my parting breath;
Quiver'd and expired in death-
So that those on earth might hear
The harp-notes of another sphere;

And mark when nature faints and dies,
What springs of heavenly life arise;
And gather, from the death they view,
A ray of hope to light them through,
When they should be departing too."

"No," said another, "no, not I:

Sudden as thought is the death I would die ;
I would suddenly lay my shackles by,
Nor bear a single pang at parting,
Nor see the tear of sorrow starting,
Nor see the quivering lips that bless me,
Nor feel the hands of love that press me,

Nor the frame with mortal terror shaking,

Nor the heart where love's soft bands are breakingSo would I die!

All bliss without a pang to cloud it!

All joy without a pain to shroud it!

Not slain, but caught up, as it were,

To meet my Saviour in the air,

So would I die!

Oh! how bright were the mansions of light,
Bursting at once upon my sight!

Even so, I long to go;

These parting hours how sad and slow."

His voice grew faint, and fix'd was his eye,
As if gazing on visions of ecstacy;

The hue of his check and lips decayed,
Around his mouth a sweet smile played:
They looked-he was dead! his spirit was fled;
Painless and swift as his own desire,

The soul undressed from her mortal vest,
And stepped in her car of heavenly fire;

And proved how bright were the realms of light,
Bursting at once upon the sight!"

An extract from "THE SACRED GARLAND."

QUICK AND WELL.

THAT'S it, little folks, do things quick, do things well. Hurry up.

When you do this or do that, be sure to put on the steam.

Whatever father or mother says "do;" haste to do it, quick as possible, cheerfully, up stairs or down stairs, indoors or out, in the kitchen or in the parlour, in the garden, the field, or the workshop-off, OFF! in a twinkling-quick as a flash.

Run, hop, skip, fly! in obedience. Haste to do every good thing your little hands find to do with your might; be sure, also, to do everything in the best possible manner.

"Work well done, is twice done." Never mix up things; do one thing at a time; begin one thing and finish one thing-make clean work as you go. Have order, system, regularity; a place for everything, and everything in its place. Whatever you do, do it well. A job slighted, because it is apparently unimportant, leads to habitual neglect, so that men degenerate, insensibly, into bad workmen.

Training the hands and eyes to do work well, leads individuals to form correct habits in other respects, and a good workman is, in most cases, a good citizen. No one needs hope to rise above his present situation who suffers small things to pass by unimproved, or who neglects, metaphorically speaking, to pick up a cent because it is not a dollar.

A rival of a certain great lawyer sought to humiliate him publicly by saying, "You blacked my father's boots once." "Yes," replied the lawyer, unabashed; " and I did it well." Wake up! Stir about, haste!

"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest."