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which would be of use to his own people of Britain.

And as he worshipped in the churches, and heard the bursts of lovely music which rose up in praise to God, he said to himself, "This is the gift I must carry home across the sea.'

For the churches in Britain had no music yet.

So Benedict went to one of his friends and said:

'Help my people. They sing as well as they can, but they cannot sing as in Italy. They worship God rudely, but you with all sweetest sound.'

'We have John the Singer,' replied the friend to whom he spoke, 'tunefullest of voice, and skilfullest in all sweet psalmody.'

And Benedict from England entreated, 'Send him with me, I pray. Let him come to England and teach my people to sing.'

John the Singer was a reverend man, lowly in his loftiness; and the people loved him, and held him great because of his gifts from God.

But the British stranger pleaded much. 'Send him with me to my poor people, who sing rudely, who have no divine music like yours.'

And the churches yielded to his entreaty, and they sent John the Singer to teach music to the English people. The two came back together, over Italy and France, and crossed the stormy narrow sea, and reached the dear island home.

And the Singer went from church to church, among the English forests and fenlands, and taught the British singers how to sing. He taught them to chant in loud harmony their psalms of entreaty and praise; he taught them the delicate melodious sound that filled the churches far away-sweet hush of wailing music like the wind-harp, and strong-voiced organ tones. And the people strangely felt how the music bore their spirits up to God, and they were softened and calmed, and filled with devout fear. Soon all the low-browed Saxon arches rang with the same sweet sound, and the grateful, joyful people loved John the Singer.

But his work was done in Britain. He must bid them farewell. They blessed him and wept on the sea-shore, and the little ship bore him away. He never returned to Italy. He sickened and died on his homeward journey, and was buried in a little town in France. But the Saxon churches held his legacy for all the years to come. The spirit of the gentle stranger still rose in their holy psalms.

Have I wearied you, little one?—or have you loved to hear of John the Singer, and will you remember him sometimes when a strain of music bears your heart to heaven? 'As well the singers as the players on instruments shall be there.'

The wild wind wails again. good-night.

Let us say

H. W. H. W.

THE ROOM OF THE HEART.
A PARABLE.

And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit, and soul, and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is he that calleth you, who also will do it.-1 Thess. v. 23-4.

THERE was a great Lord who had a

servant, to whom he would show kindness. And so he built for that servant a beautiful house, and said to him, 'In this house you may dwell and use all the rooms of it, except one in the middle of the house. That one I keep for myself; you are not to stay there, nor are you to let any one elsc into that room-it is mine."

But he gave the key of the room to the servant to keep.

In old-fashioned houses, you know, every room had its name. One would be the Red room, another the Blue room, another the White room. And so this room had its name. Over its door was written, The room of the Heart,' and upon the door itself was fixed this

NOTICE.

เ

None but the Lord of the house admitted into this room.

This was a most beautiful room; it was floored with ivory and roofed with gold, its walls were named Salvation, and its door Praise, and from its two windows you

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could see the whole world and the highest heavens.

One day the servant looked at the key of the room hanging on the wall; and he said to himself, What harm in looking into the room? My Lord will never know.' So he took the key down, and went up and put it into the lock, and turned it. Then he grew frightened, and went away without doing more. But next day, as he was passing, he said within himself, What harm in looking in?' And he looked in. It was not very long before he went into the room, and at last growing bolder and more wicked, he took possession of the room and used it as his own. And what sad changes he made on that beautiful room! On the walls his Lord had written in large golden letters, 'This room belongs to the Lord.' But the servant rubbed these out, and wrote in large black characters, 'This room belongs to Self.'

And he got a figure made, an image just like himself, and he used to come in often and bow to it; and worship it. And he would cry out, 'How beautiful Self is,' for so he named the image. Self has the best right to stay here in the room; I will make Self the lord of this house, and he shall reign here for ever.'

But this was not all. Things went on from bad to worse. The wickedest of the wicked, one who walked to and fro upon the face of the earth, and up and down thereupon,' came and asked leave to stay in that room. And the servant granted him leave, although he knew that this was his Lord's worst enemy.

Nor did he come alone. For you must know that all the wild beasts of the world followed the wickedest of the wicked; indeed, he was of the wild beast nature himself, so much so that they have sometimes called him 'a roaring lion,' sometimes 'a crooked serpent.' So he brought into the house one wild beast after another, until the Lord's room-this 'Room of the Heart'— and every other room of the house was filled.

And to what a sad case was this beautiful room and that pleasant house brought;

fighting, and noise, and filth at every hour of the day and of the night.

The servant tried to make himself happy among the wild beasts, and sometimes he thought that he was happy when he was like them tearing and devouring the raw flesh on which they fed. But whenever he began to think, and remembered that he was not a beast; when he remembered how different the house was in former days, and how much better he was, he could not help feeling vexed and sad.

But one day, 'at a time when he was not thinking, at an hour when he was not aware,' the Lord of that servant came suddenly to his own house. I am come to stay with you for a while,' he said, ' and I trust that my room is in readiness to receive me.'

How that servant blushed and stammered. He knew not what to say nor where to look. At last he fell down on his knees weeping before his master and confessed all to him; from the beginning to the end of all his sin-he kept back nothing.

And when he saw that the servant was truly sorry, his Lord frankly forgave him all. Then he said to the servant, 'I will go away for a little until you get the house cleared of the beasts and their master, and the filth; then I will come again.'

But ah, the servant found his troubles were only beginning when he tried to clear the house of its vile tenants. The master of the beasts roared, I will not go;' and the tiger growled, 'I will not go;' and the serpent hissed, 'I will not go ;" and they all cried together with a horrible shriek, 'Here we are, here we stay, we will not leave.'

When the Lord returned he found his servant in deeper sorrow than ever. Ah, my Lord, what shall I do?' he said. 'I took them in, but I cannot cast them out.' His Lord said, 'I knew you could not, but I wished you to find it out for yourself. Come now and I will cast them out.'

But oh, how that servant wept when the door of the room of the heart was opened, and the windows unclosed (for the master

of the beasts had darkened the room). He · saw the vile den into which it had been turned, and knew that his Lord was standing beside him, seeing all; his heart was ready to break, when he cried, 'Against thee, thee only have I sinned: thou settest my secret sins in the light of thy countenance.'

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I cannot tell you all the wild beasts that were found there. But there was a bear named Murder,' a she-bear named Cruelty,' and they had a whelp named 'Hate.' There were two serpents, one named Untruth,' the other Slander,' as like each other as could be, only the second was the bigger of the two. There was a wolf named Thief,' and beside him a fox named 'Covet.' Two horrible looking animals were in the same corner; one was called Swearer,' the other Obscenity;' they were constantly vomiting, and the matter they vomited poisoned the air for three miles round. And many more which I cannot mention were there. But there was an immense beast named Strong Drink, which could not fail to be noticed on account of its size. On its back was a pouch, and the master of the beasts said that in that pouch he could carry all the other beasts of the den. From anything I have seen, I am inclined to think that the master of the beasts, for once in his life, spoke true.

And so the Lord came to his own house and room, to cast out the wild beasts. It seemed a long time in doing, but after it was done the time did not seem so long to look back upon.

And the room of the heart' appeared in all its old beauty, and the Lord made it yet more beautiful. And I have heard that he took up his abode there and declared that he would never leave it. If you ask me how I know, I shall just read what the Lord has written in His own Book. For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy place; with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.'

D. K. A.

GLIMPSES OF THE NEW HEBRIDES. THE GROUP.

A

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WAY on the other side of the world, almost as far from Scotland as can be, lies the group of islands called the New Hebrides. These islands were so named by Captain Cook, who explored them in 1774, more than a hundred years ago. The group extends 400 miles, and consists of from twenty to thirty islands. The largest of these are Aneityum, Ipare or Tanna, Erromanga, Fatè, Api, Ambrim, Malekole, Whitsuntide, Aurora, Leper's Isle, and Morin. Aneityum is the most southerly, and Morin the most northerly of the group; which lies within the tropics. The climate is hot. There are two seasons in the year, the wet and the dry. The wet season lasts from December till April. The rain is often very heavy and accompanied by thunder and lightning. Hurricanes occur during the wet season; whirlwinds, too, cause much destruction; and earthquakes of late have been of frequent occurrence.

The scenery on these islands is very beautiful and the soil fertile. The cocoanut, bread-fruit, banana, sugar-cane, taro, yam and arrowroot, are all natives of the soil.

The cocoa-nut palm has been called the reindeer of the Polynesian, it is so valuable to him. Every part of it is put to some useful purpose. He reposes beneath its shade, eats its fruit, and the juice of its nuts supplies him with a delicious draught. The shells of the nuts furnish him with beautiful goblets, and the boughs of the trees are formed into baskets; the dry trunks kindle his fires, while their fibres are twined into fishing lines and cords.' His hut is thatched with its boughs; a coarse cloth is also made of it; and it yields an abundance of oil. The nuts are found all the year round, and supply both food and drink.

The taro is a plant which grows tubers underground like the potato. It is of an oblong shape, sometimes fifteen inches long and twelve inches in circumference. The natives of Aneityum live much on this root, which they roast.

The yam is another important article of native food. It is very abundant on Tanna, where yams are often seen four feet in length and eighteen inches in circumference.

These roots and various trees supply sufficient food with very little labour: and with the fine climate, the fertile soil and the beautiful scenery, the islanders might be a very happy people.

And so they would, but for one hindrance. They know not the gospel of the Lord Jesus. Excepting on the few bright spots where missionaries have laboured, the inhabitants of these lovely islands are sunk in heathen darkness.

They live in constant fear. They are afraid of each other, for they are hateful and hating one another. They are afraid

of their sacred men, who they think have power to bring disease and death, to cause wind and rain; and they are afraid of evil spirits. The darkness of a heathen island is so terrible that we can form little idea of it. No Sabbath, no church, no school, no Bible, no songs of praise. Instead of all these, weapons of war, the murder of helpless babes," fighting, cannibalism and wickedness of every kind.

And yet in such dark spots of the earth the Sun of Righteousness has arisen with healing in his wings. Neither Aneityum nor, Aniwa can now be called a heathen island, for the gospel has been received and the idols have been abolished. The change wrought on these islands is truly wonderful. We shall tell you of the Mission next month.

M. T. S.