But Philosophy had already placed S. Basil above such ambition, and he despised dignity, not from humility, but from the good opinion he had of himself and his high attain

ments.

Here, then, was our Saint's danger, and we are sure that a short review of the holy influence at home and the holy life and character of her whose influence was so blessed to Basil, will not be unprofitable to our readers. We are slow in our day to recognise GOD's hand and GOD's blessing in the gift of a pious mother and father, or a holy and devout sister; but are not such GOD's gifts as well as life, and grace, and health? Are they not means by which we receive blessings from above? Let us then learn from the following picture no longer to overlook home blessings.

Macrina was the eldest daughter, and was trained with special care by her good mother, who, although she was obliged to provide a nurse for her, was not on that account neglectful, but held her the more often in her own arms.

The child appeared by nature wonderfully gifted both in genius and docility, and therefore her mother did not allow the ordinary method of instruction in the heathen poets and writers to be pursued; but she taught her those portions of the sacred Scriptures most suited to her age, chiefly the Books of Solomon, containing those rules for the good government of life, and the Psalms of David. To value and constantly use these Psalms has ever been the mark of a devout and holy mind, and that she did so we may be sure, for it is recorded that they accompanied all her actions. On going to rest, on arising in the morning, on beginning or completing any work, on sitting down to and rising from meals, in preparing for her devotions she always chanted the Psalms; she excelled in all needlework; her talents in this way she devoted to works of charity and mercy; such was her way of life at twelve years of age, and her piety increased with her years. Being very beautiful, she was much admired and sought for. She left the choice of a husband to her father, but the young man died before the marriage, thus affording Macrina the opportunity of remaining single, and devoting herself more entirely to GOD's service: she would say that she had a husband who had preceded her in the voyage, and that through the life of the Resurrection, she still regarded him as such.

She now devoted herself to her widowed mother, and assisted her in every way, in the management of the household, and the education of the children, as well as in taking charge of their large possessions which were spread over three provinces.

Such was Macrina at S. Basil's return from Athens, and

the effect of so holy a life and conversation we will now give in S. Basil's own words.

"I began," he says, "to awaken as if from a deep sleep, to behold the true Light of the Gospel, and to learn the uselessness of human wisdom, to regret the vain science, to the acquisition of which I have devoted my youth."

Having read in the Gospel, "If thou wilt be perfect, sell all thou hast, and give to the poor," and "set not your affection on things below," he was now anxious to find a guide who would lead him in that path; with this view he travelled to Alexandria and other parts of Egypt, in Palestine, Egypt, and Mesopotamia, and there he found many devout saints, whose lives were given up to their LORD's service. He admired their self-denial, their firmness under trial, their perseverance in prayer, and how they showed by their deeds that they were but travellers here below, and citizens of heaven.

We read of Macrina, on the death of her mother and the disposal of all the family, that taking with her others who were like-minded, she formed a holy sisterhood, and spent the remainder of her life with them, devoting their time to GOD in prayer and praise, and works of piety and virtue.

Such was the sister of the Great Saint Basil, and let sisters learn therefrom that they have an influence for good over their brothers, even that of a holy Christian life; and let brothers learn not to despise the counsel or think lightly of the example of good and pious sisters.

THE REPRESENTATIVES OF OUR LORD.

A YOUNG Roman, the possessor of great riches, had long been laid on a bed of sickness. At length he recovered; and when for the first time he tasted the fresh air of the garden, he felt like one to whom a new life has been given, and in the joy of his heart he praised GOD with a loud voice; and he raised his face towards heaven and said, "Oh! Thou All-sufficient One, if a mortal could requite Thee, how gladly would I give unto Thee all that I possess.

These words were overheard by Hermas, whom men called the Shepherd, and he spake to the rich youth, “From above come all good gifts; thou canst not send anything thither, but come and follow me."

The youth followed the good old man, and they came to a wretched hovel, where they found misery and hopeless lamenta

tion; for the father lay sick, and the mother wept, while the naked children cried for bread.

While the young man looked on in horror, Hermas spoke. "See here the altar for thy sacrifice. Look on the brethren and representatives of thy LORD!"

Then did the youth stretch forth his hand, and gave liberally, and nourished the sick and needy; and they revived and blessed him, and called him an angel of GOD.

And Hermas smiled and said, "So mayest thou ever turn thy thankful gaze, first to heaven and then on the earth.”—Krummacher.

THE BUCKWHEAT.

(From the Danish of C. H. Andersen.)

WHEN you pass by a field of buckwheat after a thunderstorm, you frequently find it all dried up and blackened, just as if fire had gone over it; and the farmers say, "The lightning has done this to it!" But why did it happen?

I will tell you what the sparrow told me, and the sparrow heard it from an old willow-tree which grew close to a field of buckwheat, and which grows there still. It is a large and venerable tree, though very old and wrinkled. There is a cleft right in the middle of it, out of which brambles and grass grow. The tree bends forward a good deal, and the branches hang down to the ground like so much long green hair.

All the surrounding fields were full of corn; both rye, barley, and the graceful oats, which looks, when ripe, as if a number of little yellow canaries hung from its stalk. The corn was very promising, and the fuller were their ears the lower they bent their heads, out of humility.

There was also a field of buckwheat, and this field lay just before the old willow-tree. The buckwheat did not hang down its head like the corn, but stood up, proud and stiff.

"I am quite as rich as the corn," said the buckwheat, "and I am much prettier into the bargain. My flowers are as pretty as the apple blossoms; it is a pleasure to look at me and mine! Did you ever see anything prettier than we are, you old willowtree?"

And the willow nodded its head, as though it meant to say, "Yes, that I have!" But the buckwheat said, swelling with pride, "That stupid tree, it is so old that the grass grows in the middle of it."

A storm began to rise about this time; all the flowers of the field folded their leaves, or bent down their heads till the storm should have gone over: but the buckwheat 'held itself aloft in its pride.

"Bend your head, as we do!" said the flowers.

"It befits me not to do so!" said the buckwheat.

"Bend your head as we do!" cried the corn. "The angel of storms comes flying over us. His wings reach up to the skies and down to the earth, and he will cut you down before you can beg him for mercy."

"I will not bend my head, though," said the buckwheat.

"Close your flowers and bend your leaves !" said the old willow. "Don't look up towards the lightning when the cloud bursts. Even men do not dare to do so, for they can see into heaven if they look through the lightning; and if the sight of it blinds mankind, what will it not do to us, when we, who are but the plants of the earth, and so far inferior, venture to do so ?” "So far inferior!" said the buckwheat. "Now will I just look into God's heaven!" And it tried to do so in its arrogance and folly; and the lightning flashed as if the whole world were in flames.

When the storm was over, the flowers and the corn stood in the calm pure air, and felt quite refreshed by the rain; but the buckwheat was scorched by the lightning till it was as black as a coal it was now a useless dead weed in the field.

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The old willow-tree shook its branches in the breeze, and large drops of water fell from the green leaves, just as if the tree wept; and the sparrows said, Why do you weep? you have so many blessings! See how the sun shines! See how the clouds pass away! You can breathe the fragrance of flowers and shrubs. Why do you weep, you old willow-tree?"

Then the willow told of the buckwheat's pride and presumption; and of the punishment which always follows pride. I who relate the history, heard it from the sparrows. They told it me one evening when I begged for a story.

PART OF A SERMON PREACHED BY L'ABBE DE BOISMONT AGAINST INFIDELITY IN 1782.

"I CAN understand that species of insanity which permits the happy ones of the earth to live without GOD, but where are they -these happy ones? Even the most brilliant lot abounds with

false joys, with insatiable desires, with deep incurable wounds! If the gaze of an infidel philosopher could penetrate the recesses of those hearts of which the surface appears so calm, he would shudder, and would probably seek to replace in them that faith in GoD of which he now attempts to deprive them.

"In the lower ranks of life, amongst the poverty-stricken multitude, to whom death seems the only boon granted by Providence to counterbalance the gift of a life of wretchedness,-if you destroy their faith in GOD, what remains to relieve their miserable privations, to alleviate their bitter sufferings?

"Do you bestow on them so great a benefit, when you add to their present life of anguish the belief that they have nothing to hope for after death?

"It is for this portion of mankind that we implore your pity. Leave to us those unhappy ones. You can only offer them a dreary and uncertain future. What a prospect for poor captives sinking beneath the weight of their chains! We at least raise those chains, and bear their burdens with them.

"In this lies our great advantage over you; and for this cause I dare to appeal, not only to your justice, but to your pity, to your tenderest compassion."

MANIFESTATIONS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE.

We are told that at the first dawn of creation "the morning stars sang together, and the sons of GOD shouted for joy." Joyous, indeed, must that voice have been,-the voice of a universe lifted up in praise of Him, Whose love a universe could not contain. But there is in this expression of the joy of nature much more than at first sight appears. The echo of that glad song is not silent yet; it is still ringing through the world, though it is marred by many sad discord, while many a note that was then blended in harmony, is now either hushed altogether, or utters a jarring sound,-the harsher for its former sweetness. Still its echo has not quite died away; and ever and anon it sounds louder and nearer, as though the very strain itself was still with us, and thrilling through our breasts. And so it is. Drowned, indeed, it may be, in the murmuring of many voices, where all the world is busy with its gains and its pleasures; and yet its sound is not less clear, its source not less certain. The strains may be unheeded amid the weariness of men, and their restless toilings after that which cannot satisfy,