The Two Glasses.

My goodman he took up the flail
And threshed the gleaning-wheat;
My needle as I sewed kept time
To every steady beat,

And here's my sack of gleaning-flour;

And sweet the bread will be,

Won by my little children's toil,

My goodman's industry.

E. M. A. F. S.

The Two Glasses.

Ton a rich man's table, rim to rim.

THERE stood two glasses, filled to the brim,

One was ruddy, and as red as blood,
And one was clear as the crystal flood.
Said the glass of wine to his paler brother,
'Let us tell tales of the Past to each other;
I can tell of banquet, and revel, and mirth,
Where I was king, for I ruled in might,
And the proudest and grandest souls on earth
Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.
'From the heads of kings I have torn the crown,
From the heights of fame I have hurled men down;
I have blasted many an honoured name,

I have taken virtue and given shame;

I have tempted the youth with a sip, a taste,
That has made his fortune a barren waste.

Far greater than any king am I,

Or than any army beneath the sky.

'I have made the arm of driver fail,

And sent the train from its iron rail;

I have made good ships go down at sea,
And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me;
For they said, "Behold how great you be!
Fame, strength, wealth, genius, before you fall,
And your might and power are over all."
Ho! ho! pale brother,' laughed the wine,
'Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?'
Said the water-glass, 'I cannot boast
Of a king dethroned or a murdered host;
But I can tell of hearts that were sad,
By my crystal drops made light and glad.

The Lamp-lighter.

Of thirst I have quenched, and brows I've laved;

Of hands I have cooled, and lives I've saved.

I have leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain;
Slept in the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain;

I have burst my cloud fetters, and dropped from the sky,
And everywhere gladdened the landscape and eye.

'I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain;

I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain;
I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill,

That ground out the flour, and turned at my will;

I can tell of manhood debased by you,

That I have uplifted and crowned anew;

I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid,
And gladden the heart of man and maid;
I set the chained wine-captive free,
And all are better for knowing me.'

These are the tales they told each other,
The glass of wine and its paler brother,
As they sat together, filled to the brim,
On the rich man's table, rim to rim.

THE

The Lamp-lighter.

HE lamp-lighter's ladder has of late years almost disappeared, much to his relief. He now has only to carry a pole with a covered light at the top; with this pole he can both turn on the gas and light it, and can extinguish it also. It seems likely that his work, which has thus been lightened, will by-and-by come to an end altogether; for the electric lamp, with which many parts of London are now lighted, needs no lamp-lighter. The writer was lately crossing Waterloo Bridge at dusk, and saw the whole of the electric lamps start into brilliance at the same moment.

The man who lights up the gas lamps in London and our large towns has generally a hard time of it. He has to start on his round to light the lamps at an hour varying with the season of the year, and to go and extinguish them in the very early morning. The work is one that involves much exposure to the weather, and has to be done on Sunday as well as week day; so that we need not be sorry when the electric lighting is perfected, and the lamp-lighter's present occupation is gone.

CHURCH FOLK'S HOME MAGAZINE for 1882, neatly bound in cloth, may still be had, price One Shilling and Sixpence. A pretty Gift-book for Old and Young..

1

B

'Buy my Flowers.'

UY my flowers; only a penny; look, my lady!'

How fresh and sweet they are! Dainty yellow primroses with a setting of green leaves; rich, brown wall-flowers, whose fragrance is enough to beguile any one into spending a penny; and forget-me-nots, so blue and bonnie! Yet poor little Annette is not fortunate this morning she has not sold a single bunch.

:

She has been all down the Parade, where the fashionable ladies in their gay spring dresses are passing in and out of the shops; and she has lingered near to the gate of the Museum Gardens, where children and governesses take their noonday walk, but not one penny is in her pocket yet; so she turns wearily in to the Avenue, and sits down to rest with her head against the railings, and her basket by her side. Will any one take pity upon her?

It seems a pleasant way of earning a living-carrying flowers about from morning to night; much pleasanter, thinks Susan, the nursemaid, than wheeling a heavy baby along the streets. But when you have done your duty, Susan, and taken baby safely home, will there not be a good meal ready for you, and a comfortable kitchen in which to eat it? Where will little Annette's dinner come from, I wonder? If you have a penny in your pocket, give it to her as you go back, and carry a bunch of flowers home to make your nursery bright; and when you look at them, thank God that He has provided better things for you, and that you are not compelled to be a flower-seller.

It is not a pleasant way of earning a living, although to careless passers-by it may seem to be so. It is weary work standing at street corners, and tramping with ill-shod feet over asphalt and pavingstones all day long. It is hard to be repulsed by the proud, and ignored by the indifferent; to hold out the bunches in vain, and to take back to one's cheerless dwelling only a basket of withered blossoms past all hope of refreshing, instead of the little store of coins so much needed and so eagerly striven for.

Some flower-sellers, no doubt, are bold, idle girls; but there are many who, like little Annette, are modest and deserving; and if we can manage to spare a penny now and then, let us open our hearts and our purses, too, when we hear the cry of' f' Buy my flowers.' H. L. T.

No Time.

HR

E who cannot find time to read his Bible, will one day find that he has time to be sick. He who has no time to pray, must find time to die. He who can find no time to think, is most likely to find time to sin. He who cannot find time for repentance, will find an eternity in which repentance will be of no avail.