Man comes into the world to work and not to dream: to go about, like his Great Master, doing good,' instead of studying the mere when and how, the adagio and andante, of a meretricious ritualism. Does your daughter tell you what she does, or any of her companions, towards leaving the world wiser, better, and more holy than she found it ?"

"You quite astonish me, Mr. Enderby," replied Mr. Walkinshaw. "Our Laura says little more than you have heard. Perhaps, Caroline, you will just finish the letter.”

“There is scarcely any thing to finish beyond a little private gossip," said Caroline, except that which relates more particularly to Mr. Enderby. "I am sure," she says, "you will have no difficulty in obtaining Mr. Enderby's consent. I know he did not much like poor dear Glossy, as we used to call him; but then he was, perhaps, half a papist. Now here, we are so very particular in doing nothing of that sort—so ask him at once; there's a dear mamma."

This was all greek to me; but the doubt was soon solved. The business that had called me over to the Lindens was now formally opened, and I was ultimately asked, as one of Laura's trustees, whether I had any objection to assign over the whole of her funded property for the purpose of more fully developing this interesting Seedling of Romanism?

I naturally started at the proposition, stating of course that independently of legal difficulties, I should take some little time for consideration, though according to present appearances it was rather more probable that I should cut off a hand or pluck out an eye, than consent to any thing of the kind. What the issue was, we may see presently.

(To be continued.)

H. R. E.

THE LOST SON FOUND.

I was standing by the side of my mother, under the spacious porch of Dr. Beatty's church, Union-street, Glasgow, awaiting the hour for afternoon service. A holy calm hung over the city; no discordant noise broke the solemn stillness of the day of rest and worship; scarcely a whisper was heard in the assembly of waiting worshippers who crowded the broad pavement on

which I stood.

All seemed profoundly impressed with the solemn and sacred character of the day, the place, and the occasion which had called them together. It was, in short, a Sabbath in the land of Knox and Chalmers.

I had been in this position probably ten or fifteen minutes, when I observed two young men turn a corner and walk towards the church. They were dressed in their working clothes, unshaven and dirty, and slightly intoxicated. As they passed the church door they assumed a swaggering, irreverent gait, laughed, and finally commenced singing a profane song. Some of the bystanders expressed their horror at the occurrence, others wondered what had become of the police; but my mother turned to me, and said, "Follow these two men and invite them to a seat in our pew."

I soon overtook them and delivered my mother's message. One laughed scornfully and began to swear; the other paused and pondered: he was evidently struck with the nature of the invitation, and probably also with the earnestness and simplicity with which it was delivered. His companion again swore, and was about to drag him away. But he still paused. I repeated the invitation, and in a few seconds he looked in my face and said, "When I was a boy like you, I went to church every Sunday. I have not been inside of a church for three years. I don't feel right. I believe I will go with you."

I seized his hand and led him back to the house of God, in spite of the remonstrances and oaths of his companion. The doors were now open, and the church was filling rapidly; we entered, and I conducted him to the pew where my mother was already seated. A most excellent sermon was preached from Eccles. xi. 1. "Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days."

The young man was attentive, but seemed abashed and downcast. At the conclusion of the service he hastened out of the church, but he was closely followed, and soon overtaken by my mother, who kindly said to him, "Have you a Bible, young man ?"

"No, ma'am ; but I can get one," was his reply. "You can read of course?" said she.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, take my son's Bible until you procure one of your own. Read it attentively during the week, and come to meeting again next Lord's day. I shall always be happy to accommodate you with a seat."

He put the Bible in his pocket and hurried away. At family worship that evening my mother prayed fervently for the conversion of that young man.

Next Sunday came, and the next, but the stranger did not appear. My mother frequently spoke of him, and appeared grieved at his absence. He had doubtless been the subject of her closet devotions. On the third Sabbath morning, while the congregation were singing the first psalm, the young man again entered our pew. He was now dressed genteelly, and appeared thin and pale, as if from recent sickness. My mother looked at him with great earnestness, and a gleam of satisfaction and thankfulness overspread her pale intellectual features. Immediately after the benediction, the stranger laid my Bible on the desk and left the house, without giving my mother an opportunity she much desired, of conversing with him. On one of the blank leaves of the Bible we found some writing in pencil signed "W. C." The writer stated that he had been confined to his room by sickness for the previous two weeks. He declared his inability to express the gratitude he felt towards my mother, for the interest she had manifested in his spiritual welfare: he asked to be remembered in her prayers, and concluded by stating that he was an Englishman, and would return to his native land in about ten days.

Years rolled on; my mother passed to her heavenly rest; I grew up to manhood, and the stranger was forgotten.

In the autumn of 18—the ship St. George, of which I was the medical officer, anchored in Table Bay. Between us and Penguin Island, I observed a man-of-war which I had seen before and knew well; it was Her Majesty's brig Chanticleer of ten guns, Commander Forbes, on a surveying expedition. The surgeon of the brig, Dr. F—, had been my preceptor, and I resolved to pay him a visit. He received me with his usual warmth and kindness. After dining with the gun-room officers, he proposed that on the following day, which was the Sabbath, we should attend meeting in Capetown. "It will remind us,"

he said, "of old times, when we used to go arm in arm to church in Union street."

Next day in company with my friend, I attended morning service at the Wesleyan chapel. At the conclusion of worship, a gentleman seated behind me, asked to look at my Bible. In a few minutes he returned it and I walked into the street. We had arranged to dine at the "George," and I was mounting the steps in front of that hotel when the gentleman who had examined my Bible laid his hand on my shoulder, and begged to have a few minutes' conversation. We were shown into a private apartment. As soon as we were seated he examined my countenance with great attention, and then began to sob: tears rolled down his cheeks; he was evidently laboring under intense emotion. He appeared to be about thirty-five years of age, was tall and slender, and neatly dressed, but apparently in bad health. He asked me several questions-amongst others, my name, age, occupation, birthplace. He then inquired if I had not, when a boy, many years ago, invited a drunken Sabbathbreaker to a seat in Dr. Beatty's church. I was astonishedthe subject of my mother's anxiety and prayers was before me. Mutual explanations and congratulations followed, after which Mr. C. gave me a short history of his life, from the time he left Scotland to the day on which we met so unexpectedly in a foreign land.

He was born in the town of Leeds, in the east riding of Yorkshire, of highly respectable parents, who gave him a good education, and trained him up in the way of righteousness. When about fifteen years of age his father died, and his mother's straightened circumstances obliged her to take him from school, and put him to learn a trade. In his new situation he imbibed all manner of evil, became incorrigibly vicious, and broke his mother's heart. Freed now from all parental restraint, he left his employers and travelled to Scotland. In the city of Glasgow he had lived and sinned for two years, when he was arrested in his career through my mother's instrumentality. On the first Sabbath of our strange interview in Union-street, he confessed that after he left church he was seized with pangs of unutterable remorse. The sight of a mother and her son worshipping God together, recalled the happy days of his own

boyhood, when he went to church and Sunday school, and when he also had a mother—a mother whose latter days he had embittered, and whose grey hairs he had brought with sorrow to the grave. His mental suffering threw him on a bed of sickness, from which he arose a changed man. He returned to England, cast himself at the feet of his maternal uncle, and asked and obtained forgiveness. His conviction of sin-his battlings with temptation-his repentance-his victory over the world-the growth of his faith in the great atonement-and finally, his peace in believing, formed a deeply interesting and instructive narrative. With his uncle's consent he studied for the ministry; and on being ordained he entered the missionary field, and had been laboring for several years in Southern Africa.

"The moment I saw your Bible this morning," he said, "I recognized it, and the examination of the writing, which is still legible on the blank leaf, assured me that I was not mistaken. And now do you know who was my companion on the memorable Sabbath you invited me to church? He was the notorious Jack Hill, who was hanged about a year afterwards for highway robbery. You can now see and appreciate the terrible fate from which I was rescued by the unfathomable love and boundless grace of God, through your own and your mother's instrumentality. I was dragged from the very brink of infamy and destruction, and saved as a brand from the burning. You remember 'Dr. Beatty's text on the day of my salvation: "Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days." The proud, hardened, scoffing sinner is found, after thirteen years a humble minister of salvation to the benighted heathen; and your sainted mother is doubtless enjoying the reward of those who turn many to righteousness-shining as the stars for ever and ever.”—American Messenger.

ENERGY.

THE great difference between men, between the feeble and the powerful, the great and the insignificant, is Energy-Invincible determination-a purpose once fixed, and then Death or Victory. That quality will do any thing that can be done in this world.-Sir T. F. Buxton.