was fairly broken, and I began to feel the meaning of what Jesus said, 'Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavyladen, and I will give you rest.' And I did come to Him; and He mercifully showed me that His word is true, 'Whosoever cometh unto Me, I will in nowise cast out.' And, O! my dear Sarah, it is a happy thing indeed to know that He loves you, and that you love Him. There is none like Jesus to me now; but, next to my Saviour, there is nobody so close to my heart as that little darling Mary. I have learnt many useful lessons from her as to managing my clothes and other things; but the best of all is, that she brought me to Christ, and taught me the way to be happy and good."

"You make me feel I don't know how, Fanny. I should like to see Mary; and yet I am almost afraid, she is so good. Do you think she would talk to me about religion? To be sure one must be godly, I know; yet it is hard to begin, somehow. But come, tell me more about Mary. It seems pleasant to hear such things, though it makes me feel that I am far from what I ought to be. If I could undo what's past, I would; but as I can't, I must try to do as you have done, Fanny. Do pray for me; and tell me more about Mary, how she came to be so good, and how she got on when she lost her mother. God must have been very good to her."

"Yes, Sarah, there is no doubt about that. God is always as good as His word; and you know He says, 'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in Me.' He has been good to Mary. When she was a very little one, some girl let her fall, and hurt her left arm so, that she has not been able to use it much ever since. While she was growing up, her mother, who was left a widow, poor thing! used to think sometimes what the child would do when she was gone. 'I know,' she would say, 'that I ought to cast my care upon Him who has so often been my Friend in the time of need, and who has promised that He will be the Father of the fatherless, as well as the Husband of the widow; but when I look at the darling's weak arm, and see that she will

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never be fit for hard work, I am tempted to forget all about Providence, and to weep at the thought of my precious Mary wanting bread.' But the good woman little thought that Mary, all the while, could see through her looks, and was quietly forming a plan for setting her mother's mind at rest, and for getting herself ready, if ever she should be left an orphan. She used to lie awake at night, she told me, thinking what she should do: until, at last, it came to her mind all at once, that there were two or three nice girls in the next street who were dressmakers; and that if she could get her weak hand used to holding work, and learn to sew well, they might perhaps tell her a few things about cutting and fitting, and all that, and so she might manage to pick up a living. Well, do you know, she put herself about it, and tried, and tried, until she really could do any sort of sewing; and then she went to these girls and it seemed as if God had put it into their minds, as well as her own; they were so kind. They let her come whenever she liked, to see as much of their way of doing things as she pleased; and they told her many things besides. Dear little creature, she would do work for them by way of repaying them a little, as she said, for their kindness. But, by and by, she started on her own account, and got on too; so that, after all, her mother lived to see her in a fair way of doing something for herself. The old woman came to her death-bed at last, as you and I must, Sarah. May we have as beautiful a finish as she had. There's not a leaf moving, my dear,' said she to Mary, as she was passing. Did you ever hear anything so sweet as that, Sarah Well, if we live in peace with God, He will take us away in peace."

"Was that the way she died, Fanny? O! what I would give to think that my end would be like that! I've made up my mind to turn over a new leaf, and see whether I can't get at this good way of living; for that's the secret of a good finish, I see."

"Yes, so it is, Sarah; and I am sure you make me happy to hear you say what you do. Never fear; God will never cast out a sincere soul."

"You did not tell me, Fanny, how

don't you think that's a grand fortune?and peace with God, and a feeling that my heavenly Father loves me, and a hope of being with my Redeemer for ever: that's my fortune, my dear; and you may have the same, if you will. And now, let me tell you how I came to think about this. I wanted somebody to make my best frock. 'Tis true, I might have learnt to make it myself. But I like to live and let live. To divide labour a little is best for all parties; and I don't wish to be unfair to those who have to get their living by dressmaking. So, as I said, I wanted somebody to help me. I heard one day about a poor girl who was left without father and mother. She had the full use of only one hand, they said; and yet she kept herself decently; for she had learnt to make dresses so well, that she was never without work. Well, I went off one evening to seek her. It was up a passage into what they called a court. Not a court, however, like some of those down in the town,-close, and dark, and dismal-looking: though, as to that matter, people may be happy and keep themselves decent, even in such courts, when Providence puts them there. But the court I was speaking about was snug, yet so cheerful and pretty. There was a row of cottages with little gardens in front on one side, and the path ran up on the other between the wall and a nicely-cut thorn-hedge. Mary (that's her name) lodged with an old woman in the top cottage. One could have hung over the gate looking at the garden almost for ever, it was so neat and pleasant. The flowers and shrubs were so fresh, and they looked as if they were minded by somebody who loved them. There was a bit of a rockery, too, in the corner under the window, with a few small creepers and a patch of houseleek on it. O! it was beautiful. And what a picture the inside of the cottage was! You should have seen the dresser, and the brasses on the chimney-piece, and the table scrubbed just as white as the old woman's apron, and the bright balsams in the window; and as to the floor, why, it was cleaner than some people's dishes. The very heads of the nails on which a small looking-glass, and the hearth-brush, and kettle-quilt, and the like of that, were

hanging, seemed to have their daily rub, they were so bright. Mary was putting away the tea-things when I went in; and the old woman had settled down in her chair with her spectacles on, and was turning over the leaves of a large Bible that was before her on the table. For my part, I could not take my eyes off Mary. She was the little queen of the place. She was still in mourning for her mother; and had on a high black dress without any trimming: trimming would have spoiled it. Ah!' said I to myself, when I saw how it fitted her quiet little figure, she's the dressmaker for me.' She wore a white starched collar, fastened with a small black brooch, shaped like a leaf. quite plain. I'm sure nothing else would have suited her calm pale face. And then those eyes of hers, they made you feel as if peace itself were looking at you. Altogether, she was the dearest girl; she had my heart at first sight. Well, what do you think? She turned to me with a sweet smile, and said, 'Perhaps you wouldn't mind stopping with us at prayer; for my old friend and I always pray together about this time of the day.' What could I do, Sarah? I sat down. The old woman read the thirty-fourth psalm, and I thought it had never seemed so beautiful before. Then Mary prayed; first for the old woman, and then for me; and my mother's prayers came to my mind, and the tears started. But when she prayed for herself, and asked God to bless her in answer to her parents' prayers which they had so often put up for her, I thought I should have dropped down on the floor, and I felt ready to weep my soul away. When we got up from our knees, I could do nothing but weep. And then, to make it worse,'Prayer is good,' says Mary to me: 'you love prayer, don't you?' O, Sarah! what could I say? for really I never prayed, though so many prayers had been offered for me. She asked me to go to a meeting where a few good people talked and prayed together. So I went; and liked it so much that I went again; and I still go. Mary seemed to take a liking to me, and we walked together; and she spoke to me so kindly about the Saviour's love to such as me, that my poor heart

Her dark hair was done up

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Mary found the comfort of religion, nor how she got to lodge with the nice old woman in the cottage."

"No, Sarah, nor have I told you many other things about her that I have in my heart. I believe she learnt to love her Saviour when she was a little child. It seems as if the blessed Jesus goes about still blessing little children, though we don't see Him. And when a kind mother is every day bringing her child to Him, and asking Him to be a Friend to that child, I, for one, believe that He comes again, and puts His hand upon the pretty little head, and smiles, and gives His blessing. And, O, Sarah! how beautiful and yet how solemn are His words, 'Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoso shall receive one such little child in My name receiveth Me. But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in Me, it were

And I

better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.' Now I do think, that the old woman at the cottage has found out the truth of what the Redeemer said; and that she has received Him, by receiving that precious child Mary. The old woman knew Mary's mother; and when she heard of her death, she went and asked the poor girl to lodge with her. She has a bit of a pension; and so they can help one another. am sure that cottage is not far off from heaven; no, it is a little heaven itself; and many times have I thought of the wise man's words when I have come in and found them happy over their plain little meal: Better is a little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble therewith. Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.' Now you'll love my dressmaker, won't you?"

"I love her already, Fan. But I must try to live like her; and will, God helping me."

No. XCII.

"And the Lord said unto Moses, Write this for a memorial in a book, and rehearse it in the ears of Joshua: for I will utterly put out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven. And Moses built an altar, and called the name of it Jehovah-nissi : for he said, Because the Lord hath sworn that the Lord will have war with Amalek from generation to generation." xvii. 14-16.)

(Exod.

There is confessedly a difficulty as to the rendering of this last verse. The words literally are, "For He said, Because the hand is on, or against, the throne of the Lord, the Lord will have war with Amalek." Our translators, supposing the hand to mean the hand of God, have considered the expression, "the hand on the throne of the Lord," as equivalent to "the Lord hath sworn,"as if He had laid His hand upon His throne; and so, accordingly, they have

rendered it. But they were not without some doubt on the subject. They supposed that "the hand" might mean the hand of Amalek; and in this view the passage would run thus: "Because the hand of Amalek is against the throne of the Lord, the Lord will have war with Amalek from generation to generation." Accordingly they have so translated the passage in the margin; and to this rendering I confess I am strongly inclined. It expresses, in a very definite and emphatic manner, what is everywhere plainly taught in Scripture, and implied in the whole passage, independently of the precise rendering of the last verse; namely, that God regarded the cause of Israel as His own cause, and their enemies as His enemies. He had chosen them, in the exercise of His sovereign grace, that they might be to Him for a name, and for a praise, and for a glory in the earth. The manifestation of His

supremacy as the living and the true God was suspended on the safe conduct of Israel to the land of Canaan, and their establishment in the possession of that land as their rightful inheritance. Not only had all this been sworn to Abraham, and the promise repeated to his posterity, but God had given intimations of His purpose sufficiently plain and palpable to be intelligible to all the surrounding nations, and sufficiently terrible, moreover, to show how vain and impious it were to attempt a defeat of that purpose. Those, then, who dared to make the attempt were waging war against God's sovereignty; they were disputing and endeavouring to disprove His supremacy; they were lifting their hand against the throne of the Lord. In this fearful warfare, this desperately infatuated rebellion against Jehovah, Amalek had the guilty pre-eminence of taking the lead; and it was befitting the Divine rectitude, therefore, that he should not only be defeated, but be set forth an awful example of the righteous judgment of God, that others might take warning of the inevitable ruin which must sooner or later be the portion of those who are found fighting against Him.-Gordon's Christ in the Old Testament, vol. i., pp. 260, 261. Edit. 1854.

No. XCIII.

"Now the man Moses was very meek, above all the men which were upon the face of the earth." (Num. xii. 3.)

Some critics have found a difficulty

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about this verse, on the ground that Moses could not be supposed to speak in this way of himself. I confess I cannot understand how there should be any difficulty about the matter, with those at least who believe the plain and simple statement of the Apostle: "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God." Under this inspiration Moses spoke and wrote; and I will venture to add, that he never was in a more humble and subdued frame of spirit than at the moment that he recorded these words. After the temporary distrust or unbelief to which a short time before he had for a season given way, the testimony here borne to his character by the Holy Ghost, the Spirit of truth, must have filled him with the deepest humility and self-abasement: and they who have experienced most largely the grace and forbearance of God will be the best able to understand how Moses must have felt in the circumstances here related. Indeed one of the chief objects of recording the singular transactions narrated in these verses seems to have been to declare, and to preserve on record, the Divine testimony to the high places which Moses occupied, as bearing a Divine commission, and to the fidelity with which he had discharged the trust committed to him, so as to be an eminent type of Christ, whose servant or vicegerent he was. From the moment, indeed, at which he received his commission, or rather from the moment of his birth, he typically represented the Saviour.-Ibid., vol. ii., p. 77.

THE BANKS OF THE TAMAR.
No. XIV.

"How sweet and solemn, all alone,
With reverent steps, from stone to stone,
In a small village churchyard lying,
O'er intervening flowers to move!
And as we read the names unknown
Of young and old to judgment gone,
And hear in the calm air above
Time onwards softly flying,
To meditate in Christian love
Upon the dead and dying!"

"A BOAT, Sir?" "Want a boat, Sir?"

was the well-known cry which reached me from several points as I came down to the beach at Saltash. My choice was soon made; the boat was ready, a cloak and knapsack were flung astern, and in another minute the weather-beaten but kind-looking boatman and I were fairly off for a cruise up the river. The tide was now running down in great strength, so that we pulled along as near as possible to the shore, which was richly variegated with gardens, orchards, and meadows. By