'm a working man, and never could see any reason why I shouldn't have my two pints of beer every day, a pint for dinner and a pint for supper; never more, never less. "I'm a moderate man," I've said many and many times; "and I honour moderate men more than those who are obliged to take a pledge, because they can't be moderate men." So, quite satisfied with my position as a moderate man, I never thought of joining any teetotal society; I was temperate, and that was enough. I was going to the public-house one day during the dinner-hour (my work was too far away for me to go home to dinner) when I met Will Smith. I hadn't seen him for many years, and didn't even know he had come to my part of the world. We fell to talking, and I found he'd had hard times and little food, but he hoped to start off to work next day. We stood outside the public-house while he told me all this, so I said, "I'll stand you a pint to-day, Will, I'm going in for mine;" and we turned into the public together. We drank our beer, and went out into the street in I company, and Will walked a little way with me. thought he looked rather flushed when I said good-bye at the corner of the street, but I noticed nothing particular about him. I was returning home that evening and met a neighbour, "What's come over you, Tom?" he asked. "I thought you boasted that you were a moderate drinker, and never took more than your pint for dinner and pint for supper?" "No more I do." and what did you give that fellow I saw standing alongside of you?" "We had a pint each; why?" "Because he's been taken off to the lock-up for being the worse for drink, and fighting." "That's no fault of mine; he must have had more after I left him." "Well, I should think it a fault, to induce a fellow to drink. Why did you not give him the money the drink cost you? He might then have done some good with it." Though I excused myself, I went home feeling very uncomfortable. I told my wife what I had done, and what I had heard. She tried to excuse me; but it wasn't much use-my conscience bothered me, and a voice kept whispering, "It's your pint of beer that's done the mischief." Next day Will was taken before the magistrates and fined for being drunk. He had no money to pay the fine with, so he had to go to prison, and thus lost his situation. Upon inquiry, I found my treating him had done the mischief. I learnt my lesson and the meaning of the words, "If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." My one pint had caused Will Smith to offend, and had injured his prospects in life; from that time I gave up the drink for the sake of others. Who is wise, and he shall understand these things! prudent, and he shall know them? for the ways of the Lord are right, and the just shall walk in them: but GIVE ME YOUR HAND." UCH were the words of a dear little girl to her father, as he sat by her couch one evening after he had bidden her good-night. "Good-night; but give me your hand." She wished to feel the clasp of that father's hand till she fell asleep. How sweet to know that if an earthly father delights to take the hand of his little daughter as she is about dropping to sleep, much more does our heavenly Father love to hold our hand in His as we go at night into the silent land of un -consciousness. "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him." How blessed to feel that in answer to the prayer, "Goodnight, Lord; but give me Thy hand," He will not leave us nor forsake us; that in the grasp of that Father's hand His children may sleep the sleep which God gives to His beloved. If we take in ours that Hand which was pierced for us upon the cross, even the night of adversity will be to us a good night. And in the valley of the shadow of death we need fear no evil: "Even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me." That hand will lead us in safety to that land of love, where the parting words, "Good night," shall be no longer spoken, for "there will The old man held a book-a large, old book—and with his thin, trembling finger he traced the lines, while he read these words in an earnest tone of voice, "Neither is there salvation in any other. For there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved." Here he paused, and looked up into the face of the listener; looked so longingly, so lovingly, that I felt it was with a whole heart he was pleading his Master's cause, and commending to this stranger a Saviour, whom he himself had proved to be faithful and tender. I did not like to intrude by staying longer, so I quietly passed on, thinking, "This indeed is seed sown by the wayside." A year or two has gone by since then, but even now in fancy I can picture that good old man, with his worn, rusty clothes, his reverend white head, his solid stick, be no night there," and "the Lamb is the light thereof." I AN OLD SOWER. WAS walking one day along a high road in a suburb of London. It was a pretty road, shaded on one side by beautiful trees, which sheltered me from the hot sun, and rustled their green leaves refreshingly over my head. Under some of the trees there were benches, and, as I sauntered slowly on, I came to one where an old man was sitting, while a younger man who had been driving a cart, had left it and his horse in the road, and now stood close to the bench, listening attentively. which had supported his tottering steps to that quiet roadside seat. Even now I seem to hear the earnest tones of his tremulous voice, as his finger traces the lines. He was poor, his whole appearance showed that-he could not give money to help on the Master's work. He was old and feeble, he could not engage in active service. He was not a highly-educated man-his accent in reading plainly told that. But there was still one thing for which he was fit, one thing that even a poor, old, feeble, and ignorant man could do for the Lord who had done so much for him. Silver and gold he had none, but such as he had he gave. With a heart full of love to Jesus, and to those whom Jesus died to save, he sat by the wayside, and read a verse or two, and said a few earnest words to any who might be passing. Dear friend, among the many cares and employments of life, surely there is something that you can do for the Master. You may have few advantages, few gifts, but those which you have are enough, if rightly used, to do a share of God's work in the world. You may not be a minister, or a missionary, or even a Sunday-school teacher; for all these may be regarded as regular sowers who have whole fields of their own, and scatter the grain in handfuls. But at least you can be like this old man of whom I have been telling you; you can drop your few seeds by the wayside, with an earnest prayer that they may take root, and spring up unto life eternal. M. E. R. THE GREAT SUPPER. READ LUKE xiv. 16-24. HIS parable was spoken by our Lord while sitting at meat in the Pharisee's house, by way of answer to what one of those present had said, "Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of God." Those words therefore help us to understand the parable. They plainly refer to a spiritual feast, and so does the parable. The "certain man means Almighty God; the "great supper" means the provision which God has made for our souls in the Gospel; the " many" who are bidden to it, mean all to whom the Gospel comes. God has made a great supper, the Gospel plan of salvation. It is great in every way. It supplies a great need, it is large enough for all, it will fully satisfy all who partake of it; it is rich and plentiful, and will not only feed those who are spiritually hungry, but will make them happy too. It is also a great supper, because the guests are many; for though many refuse, yet great numbers accept the invitation. Already the whole body of believers throughout the world is large; but what will the number be, when all the guests, of every age and country, are gathered together at the feast above! We are bidden to this supper. The man in the parable bade many. God also has invited many, He has invited us, for we have heard the Gospel, and it is in the Gospel that the call is given. The invitation is quite free, there is nothing to pay. Just as we are, we are invited to go to Christ, and in Him are offered to us freely pardon, life, salvation, peace, heaven. This invitation has come to us; but, more than that, it does still come to us continually. The parable represents one message only, when the feast was actually spread, "Come, for all things are now ready;" but we are always receiving the message of the Gospel afresh. Every time we hear the preaching of the Word, every time we open the Bible, the gracious cali comes to us again, in one shape or another, "Come, for all things are ready." What have we done, and what are we doing, with regard to the Gospel call? That is the main point in the parable. Those to whom the message was sent, "Come, for all things are now ready," "with one consent began to make excuse." This does not mean that they agreed among themselves what to do and say, for they were not together when the message was brought, it came to each separately. But the meaning is, that they were all of one mind in the matter, none of them had any wish to be at the supper, all alike tried to find an excuse. The excuses were various, but the mind was the same: they would not go. The master of the house did not accept these ex cuses, he was angry with the men who made them. God is displeased with those who do not accept His offered mercy in Christ. He sees through their excuses. They may deceive themselves, but they cannot deceive Him. The anger of the master in the parable was shown in his telling his servants to go and call in other guests instead of those who would not come. First they were to go into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in "the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind;" and when there was still room left, they were to go "into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in." As for those who had made excuse, they should not taste of the supper. They who neglect the Gospel are in great danger of having the Gospel taken away from them. They are awful words, "I say unto you, that none of those men which were bidden shall taste of my supper." Think what they mean men invited, refusing or neglecting, and then shut out! There is something in the very word "excuse" that seems strange in this case. Men generally excuse themselves from something hard or painful, from a disagreeable duty, or a troublesome task; but in the parable the men excused themselves from a feast. And those who excuse themselves from the Gospel, excuse themselves from the greatest of all blessings. Yes, the greatest of all blessings; in fact, all blessings arecontained in what God offers to us in Christ-a free pardon, a full salvation, a quiet conscience, the peace of God, eternal rest and glory. You will never be happy without it. The things. which form your excuse do not, can not, make you happy. A little pleasure for a little while is all they can give, and much of vexation and disappointment is mixed with it. Nothing will make you truly happy, nothing will make you even safe, but that which God' offers you so freely in Christ. What is it that keeps you from accepting it? What is it that you make your excuse? Whatever it is, put it away. Excuse yourself no longer. Your excuse is a vain one, and you know it. The Word of God tells you so, and conscience tells you so too. What will become of your excuses in the great day? Will you dare even to mention them? And if they will be worthless then, must they not be worthless now? They are worthless. Be deceived by them no more. God calls you: obey the call. God invites you: accept the invitation.. You are not yet shut out, though you have neglected' the invitation too long. Go in while you may, and you will still be welcome through Jesus Christ. GOD IS HY comes this fragrance on the summer breeze, The blended tribute of ten thousand flowers, To me, a frequent wanderer 'mid the trees That form these gay, though solitary bowers! One answer is around, beneath, above; The echo of the voice, that God is Love! Why bursts such melody from tree and bush, The overflowing of each songster's heart, So filling mine, that it can scarcely hush, Awhile to listen, but would take its part? 'Tis but one song I hear where'er I rove, Though countless be the notes, that God is Love! LOVE. Where the hot sun has left a faded wreath; In starry heavens, at the midnight hour, In ever-varying hues at morning's dawn, In the fair bow athwart the falling shower, In forest, river, lake, rock, hill, and lawn, One truth is written: all conspire to prove, What grace of old revealed, that God is Love : す THE MAN WHO LOVED HIS HORSE, AND OTHER SKETCHES. HERE was a cabman in London who loved his horse. We have all seen a great many drivers who did not, if we might judge from their kabits of flogging and scolding, and, alas! too often swearing. However, this horse was a happy one to have such a kind master. He knew exactly what the horse could do, and he never urged him beyond it. See how carefully he is attending to his wants in the picture, and that was what he was always doing. At night, if it was ever so late, he always made his horse comfortable before he had his own supper; in short, he ruled by love, as I have said; and do you think the horse did not know it? Of course he did, and he worked all the better for it, as every creature you have to do with will do if you go upon that plan. Years went on, and at last the horse began to fail. He was not up to a busy London life any more, though he might still do something lighter. "But," said the |