THE PENNY POST BOX.

Is that woman a wife who, because something has occurred in the course of the day to cloud her husband's brow, sulks for an hour, or puts herself into a passion, because he is not very cheerful? None of these, nor many others, had any right to become wives -nor indeed has any woman a call to be a wife, to whom a good husband's society is not the most highly valued of earthly blessings; and her home the cherished and treasured spot to which her affections cling?

The Penny Post Box.

VOLUNTEERS WANTED.

OLD ENGLAND is the freemans' home, where every man is free,
And none can make another man be what he would not be;
The Queen herself now cannot take for soldiers or for sailors
Our ploughmen or ship-carpenters, our shoemakers or tailors.
The despots may, the despots do, in Austria and in Prussia,
And what is worse they yet do so in France as well as Russia.
Well, let them try to prop their thrones by levies and conscriptions,
We say in England "One freeman is worth more than three prest ones."
Small things with great if we compare-just as it is with nations,

So is it with the management of monthly publications.

We would not have an edict passed to force one man to take them,

For well we know were such laws made, all Englishmen would break them. Nor do we ask subscription lists to bolster up our pages;

Nor puff ourselves as if we had the wisdom of all ages;

Nor get some mighty Conference, or wise Association,

By "speech" and "resolution" to applaud our publication.

Such tricks are played, we know full well, but we will do without them,

And like a "True born Englishman" we will care naught about them.

All that we ask is just to have an Englishman's free action,

A clear stage and no favour-without flattery or detraction.
Let us have these, and we will ask to have no other favour,
But willingly let all the rest depend on our behaviour.
And this is best, for if you try to prop what has no merit,
You only pamper idleness-industry disinherit.
You see it so in Church and State as well as in our books,
For so can every one discern who at the matter looks.
And so we end our rhyming now by asking every reader,
Who thinks this little work to be for truth an earnest pleader,
That he will join our ranks and be a willing Volunteer,
To spread through all our cottages the CHRISTIAN PIONEER.
So if you will, begin just now, whate'er your rank or station,
And shew to every neighbour round this little publication;
Shew it and pass it every month to all who wish to take it,
And we will do the best we can a cheap good book to make it.

THE EDITOR.

FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

Facts, Hints, Gems, and Poetry.

FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY.

Gems.

RELY ON GOD'S WORD.-For all he has said will be done, whether in the way of promise or threatning.

HUMILITY makes us strong, for it leads us to trust in Christ. Pride makes us weak, for it persuades us to trust in ourselves. Hence it is that the proud are overcome, while the humble conquer.

THINK MORE of thy sins than thy sufferings; sin is the cause of suffering. Get relief of sin from Jesus, and suffering will not hurt thee, but rather preserve thee in holy health.

SEEK NOT HONOUR FROM MEN, lest you be disappointed, and then fall into sin. Seek the honour that cometh from God only, and he will give "glory, honour, immortality,"

and crown all with "Eternal Life."

Poetic Selections.

YONDER HAPPY LAND.

By faith I see a glorious sight;
A vision of the land of light,
Before me glows in glory bright.

Springing the throne of God beside,
I see the crystal river glide,
An unexhausted endless tide.
Beside its banks on either strand,
Planted by the great Father's hand,
The Trees of Life immortal stand.
The cloudless beams of golden light,
Unfading beam with glory bright;
For in that land there is no night.

There holy seraphs tune His praise,
Who lives through everlasting days,
In rapturous and exulting lays.

There men redeemed from death and sin,
Now a new life of love begin,
Through Him who died their love to win.

There now they wave the victor's palm:

Safe from all terror and alarm,
They fear no evil, dread no harm.

IF YOU CANNOT FORGIVE AN IN-
JURY,
what evidence have you that
God has forgiven you; he that lives
in enmity with any human being, There slander never can prevail,

No care-worn brow there sweats with toil,
No hostile feet ere tread that soil,
Or with rude hand its labours spoil.

may well doubt his acceptance with
Gud: for "if ye forgive not men
their trespasses, neither shall your
heavenly Father forgive you."

As we HAVE RECEIVED more from God than we have ever done for God, or ever can do, we should be all the more humble, thankful,

and zealous.

BETTER CROSS YOUR WILL than wound your conscience. The former is but a quick pain and soon over; the latter may mortify and take long curing; and yet the blood of Christ can heal even that and at once.

SATAN IS AN ACCUSER. He accuses both the christian and his God. He suggests that we have sinned beyond hope, and that God will not, nay cannot now, forgive us. But let us hear what God says about himself and us, for he is true; but satan is a liar.

Or our good name again assail,
By stinging with its scorpion tail.

Sorrow and sighing flee away,
From those bright realms of endless day,
While God wipes all our tears away.

I wish I were among them there!
Where, free from pain, and grief, and care,
I could their perfect pleasures share.

I fain would breathe ambrosial air,
In yon celestial regions fair,
And bloom in youth immortal there!

GOD's radiant throne I then should see,
The LAMB of awful Calvary!
And gaze on Him who died for me,

Then while new glories I behold,
My heart shall glow with love untold,
To Him who brought me to his fold.

Then I shall join the white-robed throng,
And on our golden harps prolong,
From age to age Redemption's song-

To Him who washed us in his blood,
And made us kings and priests to God,
"Glory, honour, praise, and power,
Be unto the LAMB for ever!"

A WONDER OF THIS AGE.

AND truly, when our readers have read over the narrative below, which has lately appeared in Chambers's Journal, they will, we have no doubt, agree with us that the whole thing is a real wonder.

"In the neighbourhood of Bristol there exists an institution but little known to the general public, yet of such a singular nature that it may fairly be classed amongst the wonders of the age. It is situated at Ashley Down, one of the most beautiful suburbs of the city, and is simply and unobtrusively named The New Orphan Asylum.' Within its walls 300 fatherless children, aged from a few months upwards, are fed, clothed, and taught. The elder girls are instructed in sewing and all domestic arts, and at a proper age are each provided with an outfit and a suitable situation; the boys are similarly fitted out, and apprenticed; and all this is done without any regular funds or subscribers, by a man who neither does now, nor ever did, possess any property, or pecuniary means. Nor has a single shilling ever been solicted for its support, for the New Orphan Asylum is founded on faith.

This statement will probably raise a smile of incredulity; but it is, nevertheless, a fact which cannot be gainsaid. There is the extensive range of buildings, in substantial stones and mortar; there, too, are 300 living witnesses, the recipients of its bounty and protection. On every Wednesday, the doors are open to all who choose to inspect for themselves this monument of love and charity. Enter: in this stern, practical, matter-of-fact nineteenth century, it is refreshing to halt for a moment on such a verdant spot. There is no charge for admission; neither are the attendants permitted to receive any fees; but in the entrance-hall is a small box labelled, For the Use of the Orphans;' and if you think fit to drop a coin therein, you may do so. Visitors are shewn the dormitories, each little bed with its snowy coverlet; the wardrobes, fitted up with presses, wherein every child deposits his or her Sunday clothing with admirable precision of folding and arrangement; the nursery, and its tiny inmates, their basinets and toys; and the dining-room, so large and lofty, and well ventilated, that it must be a pleasure to eat therein. Then there are the schools, three in number-the girls', the boys', and the infants'—all of whom go through their exercises and sing their simple melodies,