THE FIRESIDE.

A YOUNG MAN had long been confined with a diseased limb. A friend called on him who wished to see it. As the young man uncovered it he said, "There it is. And a precious treasure it has been to me. It taught me the folly and vanity of my heart, and led me to seek the favour of God through Jesus Christ. It has almost brought me to heaven. Eternal glory is now my hope!" Another young christian being near his last hours on earth, said, "There lie my clothes, and it makes me happy when I think that I shall never put them on again. Clothed in the righteousness of Christ, it will be now the only dress I shall ever wear again!"

ROWLAND HILL once went to preach where the minister was not a man of the best character, but made a great to do about appearances; and made many apologies for not having a better cassock in which to dress the preacher. Sir," said Mr. Hill, "I can preach very well without my cassock, but I cannot preach without my character."

66

The Fireside.

REPAYING MOTHER.

"MOTHER," said a little black-eyed boy of six years, "when you get old, and want some one to read to you, I will."

Little Henry's mother had been in the habit of reading to him a good deal, and on this sabbath-day she had read to him out of the Bible and explained it. The child was just able to read a little himself, and the progress he was making suggested to him how he might at some future time return all his mother's care. "I will pay you back, mother," said he, looking up into her face with childish satisfaction, as if a new thought from heaven had been sent down to light up the little world in his soul. His mother pressed him to her heart with a delight that seemed to say, "My dear son, I am more than paid off already."

But, children, you can never repay mother. Her thoughts of love, and acts of affection to you, are more in number than the days of your life. From the hour of your birth mother has been one with you. How often has she nourished you, dressed you, kissed you, rocked you on her knee and the cradle, carried you in her tender arms, watched over you in sleep, guided your infant steps, delighted in the dawning intelligence of your eye, and the winning affection of your smile, hushed your pains and sufferings, thought of you in absence, and guarded your life with a mother's solicitude, and a mother's devotion? Ah! dear child, you can never "repay your mother."

Mother has taught you to read and to pray. She has patiently sat by you and taught you the letters of the alphabet; and then

THE PENNY POST BOX.

she helped you to put them together and to spell words. She taught you to spell "GOD." And before you could read, she taught you to say, "Our Father, which art in heaven." Mother has

66

trained you with lessons, and hymns, and prayers to come to Christ. She has prayed for you when none but God knew it, and has prayed with you when your wondering thoughts understood not the meaning of her prayers. She has taken you on the sabbath to worship, and by her example she has pointed you to heaven, and "led the way." Dear child, you can never 'repay your mother." Yes, there is one way in which you can more than repay your mother. It is by loving Jesus Christ. Mother is getting ready for that blessed abode, where parents and children may meet together around the throne of God and the Lamb. There Jesus dwells in glory, that same Jesus who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." Come, little children, come to Jesus Christ? and repay mother, by praising God with her in heaven!

The Penny Post Box.

DIVINE JUDGMENTS.

LET me say a few words about these, for I think in these days it is very needful. There are men, even in this land of light, who deny God and his government of the world. There are others, who confine his judgments to bible times. They are both wrong-the former are wicked men, and the latter are weak men. God has not forsaken our world; he sees all that is done, and sometimes, even under this system of mercy, comes out of his place to punish the bold blasphemer. Here are two instances. They occurred a few years ago. The writer says "Travelling with a female passenger from Bristol, she told me of the awful end of a pugilist. She went to see him. When she went into his chamber she said, "How do you do James ?" He replied, "Ha! Betsy, I am glad to see you, I have received a letter from hell." She thought he must be delirious, and begged him to compose himself, when, with an oath, he exclaimed, "Do you think I dont know what I say? Your name is Betsy, I tell you I have had a letter from some of my old companions in hell, (mentioning their names) who are playing a game, and they want me to make an odd one, and I shall go at -o'clock." She left him. But he died at that very hour!

A young man in a lawyer's office in London, went on board a ship in the Thames to see his brother from the East Indies. When leaving the ship, his brother cautioned him how he went down, for he was lame. He replied with an oath, "I'll show you the way lawyer's go to hell!" His foot slipped, and he fell into the water,

THE PENNY POST BOX•

and was drowned before the eyes of his agonized mother and brother! Several persons saw him fall, but they seemed paralyzed, and the efforts they made to save him were too late.

Verily there is a God that yet judgeth in the earth! Reader, dost thou not fear him? Beware lest he take thee away with a stroke, and then a great ransom cannot deliver thee! Pause! reflect, repent, pray; and fly to Christ now, this very day, for forgiveness and salvation! OBSERVER.

MATTHEW WILKS; OR, MINISTERIAL POPULARITY. PERHAPS some of your readers may be amused on reading the following humorous lines, which it is said were written by this celebrated minister. Mr. W. died about thirty years ago, and was many years a popular preacher at Whitefield's old Tabernacle, Moorfields.

When to famed London first I went,

To preach the gospel my intent,

My fame soon flew around the place, 19
And people thought me filled with grace.
I to the tabernacle came,

And found it crowded through my fame;
For, from the pulpit to the door,
"Twas filled with throngs of rich and poor,
Who came to hear in stuffs and silks:
My name was then "Great Mr. Wilks."
But as the sun went past the height
Of noon, declining towards the night;
So soon my soaring fame, I found,
Was something nearer to the ground:
But still it flew, though not so high-
"The Reverend Mr. Wilks" was I.
And as the rolling years went round,
And me in London still they found,
I yet went on with lessened fame,
"The Reverend Mr. Wilks" my name.
The tabernacle still my place,
I filled, though with slower pace;
And found that as I older grew,
The people wanted something new ;
The stuffs yet came, though fewer silks;
My name was only "Matthew Wilks."
But oh! the worst was yet to come,
And further slighting was my doom:
For if a friend should chance to meet
An old acquaintance in the street,
And say, "Come, Thomas, will you go

To hear Matt Wilks' whom well you know?"
How oft has this been the reply-

"A squeaking fellow! no, not I."

FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

Facts, Hints, Gems, and Poetry.

FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.