been much in the wrong, but not so bad as you think. Besides personally disliking this trade, I had some hope of doing more in the world if I gave it up than if I carried it on, and to spend my days in this shop seemed to me a sure waste of the work of past years.'

"And there you are wrong,-if you so choose, you will be a better man of business with your education than without it. Don't you see, John, that cultivation and refinement ought to render a man proof against temptation; joined with goodness, they should be to him arms and armour to ward off evil and sin; thus armed he is better fitted to enter deep into life's battle." Thanks to you, sir, I am beginning to see things in a truer light; cease to respect or care for me if, after our talk, weary days of idleness pass by."

-

"I have every hope of you, John, shall expect to see you get first butcher in Monkton; but, my boy, you will have many a hard struggle before you can settle yourself steadily to work, God grant you may fight through bravely! Keep this ever in mind, that the first duty of each and every creature is to act out his own inner conviction; there is no absolute protection against error in this life; what appears a most perfect work may be full of flaw and blemish to a keener sight; but if we earnestly, conscientiously, and faithfully cleave to our sense of right, carry it out unwaveringly, live up to it as close as may be, we are fulfilling our nobler duty as responsible human beings. Never forget it is not the work that a man does, (for which he cannot always be responsible,) but the spirit in which it is done that makes him great or small, noble or ignoble. Who dare decide who is the nobler or nighest heaven, he, who laboureth for material or for spiritual bread, striving to shed light into the souls of his fellowmen? The spirit often longs for a higher, wider sphere of action, but God may have ordered otherwise, and tied it down to a lowly one in this present life. How precious to such lives must be the thought of Death! They also serve who only stand and wait'-ay, and most irksome service it ofttimes is, more glory be to them who do it patiently, and faithfully! Come now, let us turn homeward; the air is growing dull, there will be a heavy dew to-night."

"Oh! Mr. Stanton, how shall I ever thank you enough for his evening's walk? I feel it is the turning point of my life: no more doubt now as to what is my duty may God help me to live it out bravely, unpleasant though it is.'

Trust in Him and He will not forsake you, John. When you have lived a little longer may you feel, amid all doubt, all weariness and sorrow of heart, there is ever one sure stay, one haven to which to turnrest in the Lord,' that is peace!"

Much gossip was there among the little minds of Monkton next week, when that clever handsome Mr. John Wood (he had always been Mr. since his return from college,) was seen with blue blouse, and knife in hand, serving his father's customers!

LESSONS FROM NATURE. · SUMMER.
THE TREES.

Dark and rich, in summer glory,

Trees, your leaves are in their prime.

Let us listen to their story

Of this glorious summer time;

Of the gradual awaking,

And the songs the small birds sing,
When the sun, through grey mist breaking,
Seems from out the east to spring;

Of the myriad summer flowers;

Of their queen, the regal rose;

Of the fragrant woodbine bowers;
Of the warm day's balmy close;

Of those sights and sounds of wonder,
The swift lightning's dazzling flash,
And the loud, deep pealing thunder,

And the hailstones' rattling clash.

Oh ye trees, the summer story

Of your leaves, in their rich prime,
Tells us of God's gentlest glory,

Tells us of His might sublime.

THE BROOKS.

Brooks! through summer meadows flowing,
In whose depths the troutlet plays,

What the page your books are showing,
What the lines whereon we gaze?

Though, oh brooks, in scantier measure
Flow your summer waves along,
Still we read with grateful pleasure
In each wave a tuneful song.

Through the ripened meadows streaming;
Where so deep the rich grass stands,
Hot the midday sun is beaming

On the weary mower bands.

Under shady hawthorn bushes,

Where old oaks their thick boughs wave,

Cattle, among sedge and bushes

Glad your cool refreshment crave. As ye flow through corn-fields bending With their full and ripening ears, Brooks, ye teach us youth is tending To life's summer- harvest years; And one page of fairest beauty,

The white water lily's hue,

Bids us by the laws of duty

Keep our hearts unsullied too.
THE STONES.

What the sermons that ye preach us,
Rocks, that front the summer sun?
What the lessons that ye teach us,
As the hours their courses run?

"Seest thou that ruined tower,

Built by men of olden time,.

Who their blood-cemented power

Raised by strife, and war, and crime?

"Turn now to that quiet dwelling,
Emblem of the peace within;
Each a tale, how different, telling,
Home and peace, and strife and sin.

Long before their wattled towers

Your unskill'd forefathers made,

E'en before 'mong Edens flowers

Hand in hand the first pair strayed, "When the land, and air, and ocean,

Fire and flood, God's might displayed

In some wonderful commotion,

Were the stones that built them made."

God, our Father, gives men power,

Gives earth's stones a home to build;

And, a higher, nobler dower;

Minds with wisdom to be filled..

ALL ARE GOOD.

Summer trees, so graceful waving,
Summer's cool and shaded brooks,
Rocks, the summer's hot sun braving,
Good ye are, God's sermon-books.

J. A.

PRAY.

BY THE REV. JAMES KNAPTON.

O 'TIS sweet at evening hour,
'Neath temptation's subtle power;
Blighted hope, and cankering care,
To uplift the heart in prayer;
And again, by morning light,
Converse with the Infinite:

Pray, then, sorrowing Christian, pray,
It will cheer thee on thy way.

Cheer thee when the tempest cloud Bursteth o'er thee long and loud; Friends that loved thee,-one by one, From thy fond embrace have gone; Foes that hate,-with flashing eye Glory in thy misery:

Pray, then, sorrowing Christian, pray, It will cheer thee on thy way.

Say, when rack'd by grief and pain,
Didst thou ever pray in vain?
Breathe into thy Father's ear

I Words that brought no blessing near?
Humbly to His footstool go,
Scorn'd-despised-rejected? No.
Pray, then, sorrowing Christian, pray,
It will cheer thee on thy way.

When bereft of human aid,

Christ, the Lord thy Saviour, pray'd;" Would'st thou like that Saviour be,

Look into Gethsemane!

Mark the sweat, and see the blood
Pouring from the Son of God.

Pray, thou sorrowing Christian, pray,
It will cheer thee on thy way.

Pray that soon the world may be
One united family;

Bound below by cords of love
Such as bind the hosts above;
Pray that, till thy race is run,
Heaven's unerring will be done.
O thou sorrowing Christian, pray,
It will cheer thee on thy way.

DAY DREAMING.

ARE any of my readers, day dreamers?

I mean, do they ever sit with their elbows resting on the table, or the window-sill, or their desk at school, gazing vacantly at the opposite wall, or out of the window, while books and work lie neglected before them? Perhaps you are wishing that you were grown up, had no more lessons to do; or you wish you had plenty of money to buy what you like with; or you live in the town, and wish you could only be in the country amidst the fields and hills and woods. Perhaps you are in the country, and feel you would give all you have in the world, to live in a town, and walk in gay, busy streets, and see fine buildings, and crowds of people every day. Some children and young people too-I have known such- are for ever longing that they could write a book, paint a fine picture, sing beautifully, and so achieve a kind of worldly fame; or they think nothing would be so delightful as to act like the people they saw at the theatre the other night. you are poor, you long to be rich, and have a large house, plenty of money, plenty of friends, beautiful clothes; many that are rich sigh to live in a cottage away from the cares and remembrances of wealth, and think how delightful to keep cows, and trot to market on a little shaggy horse through the green lanes,—to milk in the sweet summer evenings (and the cold, gloomy, rainy winter morning too, say we!) reap the heavy, swaying corn, and shake the scented hay in the wide sunny fields !

If

But we will suppose now that you-my readershave a sensible ambition, and wish that you could learn to be a minister, a merchant, a physician, a barrister, a farmer, or a tradesman ? Meanwhile, perhaps, you are leaving undone the tasks that are set you, losing the precious time that is given you for acquiring knowledge, gaining habits of idleness and abstraction. Believe me, there is a far greater heroism in doing every day things that are against your taste and inclination, from a strong feeling of duty, than you might at first suppose. To practise honesty, self