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THE TRUANT.

THE schule doors had been closed on the bairns gather'd in,

And the roll call brocht nae Watty
Graham,

But a whisper oozed oot ower the bairns' bizzing din,

An'the truant' was writ at his name.

When the birdies hae secrets in nooks o' the wud,

And are fain that they shouldna be kent, Then the bairns step oot whiles frae the richt gait and guid,

An' the birdies an' bairnies repent.

There were bonnie wee eggs laid in wee downy nests,

An' twa wee hauns gaed herrying there; An' some wee hearts were sair within feathery vests,

Wi' a grief Watty's heart didna share. 'Twas hurrah! he was free frae the book an' the slate,

An' was roaming the wudlands at will: "Twas his joy, but he daur'dna to ony ane say 't,

As again he hied hame frae-the schule. Frae the schule, tho', before him a birdie

had gane,

An' had tell 't on the truant at hame; An' if sair hearts he'd left in the wuds to mak' mane,

There were sairer at hame to his shame.

He was waited for there, and condemn'd he step'd ben,

'Mang their mix'd looks o' feeling an' fear,

As the mither step'd sternly in front the fire-en',

Doubly arm'd, wi' the tawse an' a tear.

An' the birdies had secrets in nooks o' the wud

That the truant rued weel he e'er kent; An' the bairns at the schule chose the richt gait an' guid,

But the truant had lang to repent.

J. M. N.

STORY ABOUT A WOOD PIGEON.

N a lovely autumn evening, in a pleasant village, near the banks of a river, a clergyman was out visiting some of the sick members of his congregation. Among these were old Hugh and his wife, who lived for many years in a small cottage on the outskirts of the village. The kind minister had been visiting these humble Christians. On leaving their lowly dwelling, he proceeded along the road, which was finely shaded with a variety of beautiful trees-just like the approach to a mansion house. All at once he heard a rustling sound among the branches, and then something dropped at his feet. Looking down he saw it was a wood pigeon, or cushat dove, which had been wounded. He lifted it up carefully; and while he was examining it, the bid died in his hand. It seemed to have been shot, although no report of a gun was heard.

The minister wondered what he would do with his newly found treasure. Would he turn back and give it to Hugh, or take it along to James, a poor sick man, whom he was on his way to visit? He resolved to take it to James. On arriving at his house, he knocked, and on entering, said: 'Here, James, is a present for you.' Who sent it, sir?' was the reply. The minister said, 'It must have been the Lord;' and he told him how he had got the bird on the way.

With a grateful heart James took the gift which he received as from his Heavenly Father; at the same time quoting his favourite text, Goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'

James' kind nurse made him some nice soup with the pigeon thus strangely provided, which he very much relished.

'In some way or other the Lord will provide. It may not be my way, it may not be thy way, But yet in His own way the Lord will provide.

A. C.

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H

SOWING AND REAPING.

OW pleasant it is in Springtime to watch the farmer as with graceful cast of hand he lavishes his grain upon the hungry ground! How instructive, too, to reflect that in the busy sower we have a picture of ourselves!

Youth is our Springtime when we begin our life-long sowing for good or ill. Thoughts are the seeds we sow within; words and deeds without.

To sow well is not easy. It looks so simple, you think you could do it right off quite as well as the farmer. But when you try it, you discover that patience and practice are needed in learning this as every other art. So it is with our sowing. Try honestly, and you will find how hard it is to think nothing but good thoughts, speak nothing but good words, and do nothing but good deeds. It is worth trying, however; for to be good and do good is our highest bliss-a bliss which honest striving with God's help can never fail to attain.

Now, to encourage you to sow well and keep you from sowing ill, learn a lesson from the farmer.

I. When he sows he expects to reap.

Sowing would otherwise be a foolish waste of precious grain. But the farmer knows that from the beginning of the world the seasons have kept revolving in regular succession, and he sows in faith, believing that now, as heretofore, Autumn, with its mellow fruits and golden sheaves will come in due course.

It

Life is like nature. It has an harvest as well as a seed time. The law 'sow and you shall reap' is as true and binding for us in our lives as for the farmer in the fields. Always bear this in mind. should make us careful how we act, when we remember that our every deed will yet bear fruit in glory or shame. This is foolishly left out of account by Master Careless, who, when warned of the risk he incurs, curls up his lip and, with an effort to look manly, says, 'I don't care.' It is forgotten by

Miss Thoughtless, who, when her faults bring her into trouble can find no excuse but this, I never thought;' and it is neglected by Master Ignorance, who brings himself into many a foolish scrape, and then can only hang his head in shame and cry, I didn't know.' We ought to care how we act, to stop and think before we act, and to know that every act brings with it consequences either good or bad. Carelessness, thoughtless or ignorance will not keep back the harvest. Each rather bears a bitter harvest of its own. How kind it is of God to let us know all this beforehand! Let us shew our gratitude by acting up to our knowledge. Let us never carry out a plan without first counting the cost, and never sow without looking forward to the reaping time that shall surely come.

II. He expects to reap what he sows,

If he sows corn he expects to reap corn. If he desires a crop of potatoes he plants potatoes. He has no fear of disappointment by the seed yielding fruit different from itself. 'Do men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles?' A farmer would be considered a fool who sowed one kind of grain intending t› reap another. Equally foolish is it to live in one way and hope to be rewarded as if we had spent our lives differently. The wages of sin is death.' Our first parents thought it would be otherwise; that instead of reaping death as the fruit of their sin, they would be as gods knowing both good and evil. You are familiar with the result. They reaped exactly what they sowed. Sometimes still people make a similar mistake. When they see the wicked flourishing and the good afflicted, they say it can't be true that men reap as they sow. But that just shews their ignorance. They look for harvest before its time. Tares will not become wheat, nor wheat tares, though it is difficult to distinguished them in the blade. Wait till the harvest. Then you get wheat for wheat and tares for tares. So, too, will it be in the world's great harvest time, when God shall separate the wicked from the good, and shall reward

every man according to his deeds. Meantime you are sowing. Remember the apostle's caution-Be not deceived: God is not mocked; whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.'

III. He expects to reap in proportion as he

sows.

He that soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly. The effect is always in proportion to the cause, and the achievement to the work spent on it. There are

no gains without pains.'

This truth is known and acted upon by the agents of evil. They are ever scattering abroad their pernicious seed. No opportunity is lost. Were the servants of Christ as diligent in working for the Gospel, the world would soon wear a different aspect from what it now does. Evil is so prevalent because so much is done to spread it, and goodness is so scarce because the sowing is so scanty and the labourers so few.

Every one of us, I fear, must own that he has done little, compared with what he could have done, either for his own improvement or the improvement of the world. Let us take a lesson from the men of the world. See how eagerly and anxiously they toil to win success. With like zeal let us labour to bring in the gospel harvest. The more we sow the more we shall reap. We may be disappointed in the present when we see how small the result of our labours apparently is; but if we work on in faith and patience we shall be surprised at the greatness of the harvest when it arrives.

"The seed, that in these few and fleeting years Thy hands, unspairing and unwearied, sow, Shall deck thy grave with never fading flowers, And yield thee fruits in heaven's immortal bowers.'

IV. He expects to reap more than he sows. Increase is the very end and meaning of the harvest. The farmer does not sow a bushel of wheat expecting merely a bushel in return. No. He expects much more. Life comes under the same rule. Its fruits will be an increase on the germs of thought

77

or action that are sown. Ilow sadly true is this of evil! A boy, for example, gets hold of a bad book. He reads; and some evil thought, clothed it may be in beautiful language, is insinuated into his mind: lying there like a seed in the soil, it gathers strength by degrees, and brings forth other evil thoughts till his whole mind is polluted and his nature corrupted. What a sad harvest from one evil thought! 'He that soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption.'

The same holds true of goodness, only it has so much to contend against in its progress that its results are not so apparent. Matthew Henry one day, after hearing a sermon on the grain of mustard seed, said to his sister, I think I have received a grain of grace to-day.' And truly that grain produced a noble harvest in the famous Commentary which has been a storehouse of instruction for thousands. We are apt to think lightly of little things in character or action. It is foolish to do so; for out of little things great things spring. A sagacious writer has observed that the law of the harvest is increase. Sow an act, reap a habit. Sow a habit, reap a character. Sow a character, reap a destiny.' Life is a continual series of ascending or descending stages, each presenting a more extensive field than the preceding, till at last we are launched into the boundless field of eternity, and reap our final harvest.

6

'Impartial retributions then

Our different lives await; Our present actions, good or bad, Shall fix our future state."

J. D.

GIVING LIKE A LITTLE CHILD.

NOT long since a poor widow came into

my study. She is over sixty years of age. Her home is one little room, and she supports herself by her needle, which, in these days of sewing machines, means the most miserable support. Imagine my surprise when she put into my hands three dollars, and said:

78

There is my contribution to the missionary fund.'

'But you are not able to give so much.' 'Oh! yes,' she exclaimed, 'I have learned how to give now.'

'How is that?' I asked.

'Do you remember,' she answered, 'that sermon of three months ago, when you told us that you did not believe one of your people was so poor that, if he loved Christ, he could not find some way of showing that love by his gifts?'

'I do.'

'Well, I went home, and cried all night over that sermon. I said to myself, "My minister don't know how poor I am, or he would never have said that." But from crying I at last got to praying. And when I told Jesus all about it, I seemed to get an answer in my heart that dried up all tears.'

6 What was the answer?' I asked, deeply moved by her recital.

Only this: "If you cannot give as other people do, give like a little child." And I have been doing it ever since. When I get a penny, I lay it aside for Jesus; and so I have gathered this money all in pennies.'

'But has it not straitened you to lay aside so much? '

'Oh, no. Since I began to give to the Lord, I have always had money in the house for myself, and it is wonderful how the work comes pouring in.'

'But didn't you always have money in the house?' I asked.

Oh, no. Often when my rent came due I had to go and borrow it, not knowing how I should find means to pay it again. But I don't have to do that any more-the dear Lord is so kind.'

Three months later she came with three dollars, saved in the same way.

Now what this poor woman did for Christ and His cause, can surely be done by those more highly favoured. The Foreign Missionary work needs all that the warm hearts and the generous hands of Christian women can accomplish.

This incident contains a lesson for us

all. If we can only give as a child, that is all that is required of us. If we can give

in larger measure, the smaller is not enough.

-0

DO YOU SEE MY FLOWER?

W

HICH do you think is the handsomer-the boy or his flower? The flower, you see, has got a prize of 10/, and may therefore be pronounced-what it evidently is-a 'perfect beauty.' But does not the little fellow deserve a prize too-all to himself'? I am quite taken with that boy. See how carefully he is carrying that flower of his as if it were a conscious thing, and how evidently pleased he is with it, as he has a good right to be. He is not looking at his flower, for he knows every leaf of it; but he is looking at you, and wishing you to admire his pet. And now that it has carried all before it, and won the prize, he is taking it home, and will say to it when he puts it in its accustomed place, There now, my little beauty. You have done real well to-day, and looked your best, and I am proud of you, and will give you a little clean water to drink before you go to sleep to-night.'

I remember, many years ago, giving away two dozen geraniums and fuchsias among my Sunday scholars to see which of them would produce the finest plant in the autumn. For some reason, the competition never took place. But for long after, in two houses at least, descendants of these plants used to be shown me on my visiting days, which had been sacredly kept in memory of the little ones who had got them, but were since passed away.

It is a nice amusement, the rearing of flowering plants, and his is a poor heart that has no taste for it. Our Saviour had a taste for flowers, as He evidenced on a well known occasion; and every follower of His should have the same. Especially should the young be trained in a taste for flowers, and if circumstances were suitable, it might be wise to give each one the oversight of