Tom Wiles.

Boys, prize highly whatever advantages you may now have for improving your minds, and fitting you for a useful after-life. Boys, love your parents while you have them to labour for you, to watch over you and love you. And if you are blessed with such as seek earnestly your eternal happiness as well as your temporal well-being, do not undervalue their loving anxieties, by disobedience to their commands, by indulging idle habits, or forming associations with bad companions. Do not envy those who are permitted to follow their own way. For if you live to be men, you will surely see what unhappy results arise from such indulgences. I remember one instance in particular, that makes me feel grateful for having had loving and judicious parents and friends who cared for my temporal and eternal welfare.

Tom Wiles had no mother, she died when he was an infant, so he was left to his aged grandmother, who went to live with his father to take care of his home. I dare say he never felt the loss of his mother, for his grandmother was very fond of him, and indulged him in all he desired. His father did the same, so that between them both, he grew up to be what is called a "spoilt child," and afterwards a bad man, and died long before he attained to half the usual term of man's life, from vicious and intemperate habits.

I can see him now in my memory as he appeared when I was a boy. A thin pale-faced lad, rather

intelligent looking, and had he been properly trained, would doubtless have grown up a very different sort of man to that which he afterwards became.

As it was, he was just that kind of lad that no thoughtful pious parent would permit his children to associate with.

It is true he was much envied by some of his companions for many supposed advantages he had over them. He always had money in his pockets, and was always eating something in the shape of fruits, sweetmeats, or pastry.

He was very irregular in his attendance at school, and so had more time than they for play. He did not like learning, nor cared for improvement, so that he remained ignorant of the very beginnings of knowledge-reading, writing, and arithmetic. And as a

matter of course, his habits became worse and worse, and very pernicious. His companions were somewhat like him, perhaps not quite so bad, and as he grew older he became very injurious to the morals of those younger than himself, by tempting them with the many good things he always had about him.

Tom was a very selfish boy, and very unfeeling, and often gratified both propensities, by inflicting pain, or in some way or other causing suffering to those who were in the habit of seeking his friendship for the sake of his abundance. And it was astonishing how many foolish boys would permit him to do so for such a trifling unworthy enjoyment.

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What a sad beginning of life! Poor lad, he was sowing the wind only to reap the whirlwind"-and

as the Holy Scriptures say in another place, "sowing to the flesh only to reap corruption."

Well, in a few years his grandmother died, and his father left him more and more to himself. When he grew nearly to man's estate he lost his father, and had all his own way, and gave himself up a willing victim to vice. Still he had opportunities for improvement, and inducements to forsake his evil ways, but through the strength of wicked habits, he neglected them all, and for some few years longer he sacrificed health, reputation, and every friend, to a degrading life of pleasure and intemperance, till he became enfeebled in body, weak in mind, and stricken with want. Such a life, so selfish, degraded, and wasted, it pleased God to cut short. One day, while walking one of the streets of his native city, he fell down in a fit, was carried to the public hospital, and died almost immediately after he arrived.

Boys, remember poor Tom Wiles, and then determine to keep clear of the rocks on which he foundered, selfishness, pleasure, and dislike to learning. Show your gratitude to God and your love to your parents and friends, by a daily improvement in everything that will fit you for a useful, happy, noble and religious life. Shun the society of those who fear not God nor serve and love Jesus Christ: and daily present the prayer which David offered so earnestly-" Order my footsteps according to thy word."

F. C.

Brotherly Love.

ON a little bed, in a small, half-darkened room, lay the body of a little boy. His eyes were closed, his tongue was silent, his hands were stiff and cold,-he was dead. Beside him stood his tender mother and his loving sister. Their eyes were wet with tears, and their hearts were full of sorrow, for they had lost one whom they dearly loved, and very soon his remains were to be taken from them, and laid in the silent grave. Of him they had come to take a last fond look, and their sobs and tears told how deep was their grief. Long had they lingered in the chamber of death, when the little girl, looking through her tears into the pale face of her brother, and then into that of her mother, said—“ Mother, may I take hold of his hand?" The mother seemed to take no notice of her little daughter's request, and again she said, Mother, may I take his hand?” Her mother at length consented, and taking the cold hand of her brother in hers, as the tears rolled down her cheeks, she said, "This hand has never struck me, mother."

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What a touching scene was this, and what a beautiful picture does it present of pure brotherly love. Yes, these children loved each other, and it was this which in times past had made their home happy and their hearts glad. A world of meaning is wrapped up in these few words, "This hand has never struck me." We see the loving children, rejoicing in each other's joy, and saddening at each other's sorrow. When one is happy the merry laugh of both ring through the cottage in which they dwell; and when one is sad

or sick, the other stands by, like an angel of mercy, to comfort and bless. Often, too, they read together the kind words of Jesus, and pray that He will love them, and make them gentle and holy, like himself. But now the day of parting had come-one of the lambs had been gathered into the Saviour's arms, and the weeping sister came to press, for the last time, the hand that had never struck her. At such a sight who can help exclaiming, "Oh, how good and pleasant a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!"

Are you, my young friends, like the little boy about whom I have been telling you, gentle, and loving, and good? Can your brother or sister say of you, "His hand, or her hand, has never struck me?" Is the love of Jesus dwelling in your hearts, and are you seeking to follow his holy example? If we had more of his love, and sought more to be like him, how different would be both our hearts and our homes.

"Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,

Our little brawls remove;

That as we grow to riper age,

Our hearts may all be love."

S. B. S.