as of Scripture. Place a child among persons much his seniors, deprive him of the means of amusement peculiar to his age, especially of company of his own capacity and see what kind of a youth you will have? It must be of such that Shakspeare was thinking when he wrote, "Why should a man, whose blood is warm within his veins, sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?"

But place two children, perfect strangers, together, even though of different nations and speaking different languages, or speaking the same language in broken words, that you and I, with all our marvellous stores of knowledge, cannot comprehend, and mark the result. What free-masonry puts them so soon on a familiar footing? What wonderful and mysterious means of communication have they by which they understand each other? Watch them for an hour or so, and you will see more sociability, a freer interchange of opinion, a better understanding of each other's powers and capacities, a truer and more complete knowledge of each other's possessions and resources, than grown people would have in as many years. You may think you know a great deal about neighbor A. or Mr. B. whom you meet at church and market, at the several places of business resort, or in the intimacy of social life. You know just how many acres of land he has, what his crops will be, or how many shares of stock he has, and to what his sales amount, and talking the matter comfortably over with your wife, you may pronounce him a happy and prosperous man. But after all you don't know much about his real condition, how many bits of paper he has out, whose settlement makes quite an inroad on his profits; how many cares he has; how many domestic trials; how many conflicts with himself which the world may never know. And he may congratulate himself that the smiling face he wears has successfully masked an aching heart, that when you inquired of the welfare of his family you did not know he was feeling "how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child." Nor do you feel called upon to tell him the little trouble you had with your own son or daughter, nor unless you want to borrow of him, do you mention the little

indebtedness coming due in a few days, with the question, "Where shall I get the money?" staring you in the face.

But Freddy yonder, playing with Harry, has gone through with a truthful inventory of his property, including the cracked marble and the one he lost in the wood-house, but expects to find again when the summer's wood is gone; has given the exact worth of his balls, the one with the torn cover and the whole one; has unblushingly shown his old knife, and expatiated on the loveliness of the one with four blades which he saw at Smith's, and which he expects to get at Christmas; in all which frankness of statement he is equalled by his companion. The mysteries of cart, sled and kite have been discussed, the superior resources and abilities of the respective fathers have been spoken of in the superlative degree; the knowledge of a robin's nest has been fairly exchanged for the sight of a pet rabbit, and they part, each with the conviction that the other is a good fellow.

And Mary and Nelly, chatting quietly in the corner have given each other a faithful account of their doll family, including an inventory of wardrobe, with a sad but truthful statement of the bad conduct of some of their children, emphasized by parenthetic slaps on the offender, together with thrilling accounts of sickness from measles or whooping cough,and of harrowing accidents, resulting in broken limbs and noses, dislocated joints, and disasters in general.

During the age of dolls and kites, all this goes on very well. The judicious parent will supply proper toys as he does proper food, and leave the rest to Nature. Nor is the ball and croquet age a dangerous one, for though the excitement may be great at first, it is apt to settle into a mild type that does best when left to itself. But the social amusements where the young of both sexes meet, as meet they must and meet they will, how are these to be guided and controlled? Perhaps in no part of a young person's life, is there need of so much thoughtful and judicious care as in this. The blind, ungoverned, undisciplined impulses of youth must not be thwarted but trained, must not be looked upon as evi

dences of sinfulness, to be destroyed like poisonous weeds, but as evidences of power to be cultivated and converted into instruments of good. And just here lies the danger on both sides. The young, feeling acutely the spur of emotion, chafe at the curb of reason. The old, having outlived and, unfortunately sometimes, outloved the roystering time of youthful folly, and jogging along with the sober pace of life are impatient at the ardor and impetuosity of the young, and wonder at what they themselves have been. Compromises in general are dangerous, for they are apt to imply a yielding of principle-always if made in politics -but just here, there should be a righteous compromise. The young should remember that age must come; the old that youth has been. It would certainly look very ridiculous for mature cats to race after a ball or play with a feather with the ardor they did when kittens, and it would look even ore ridiculous for kittens to put on the airs of an ancient tabby and wink and doze on a cushion before the fire. But we cannot help admiring that wise provision of Nature, by which the cat sometimes steps down from the pedestal of her dignity and bestows a caressing pat on her frolicsome offspring, or runs a race with it, for the rolling ball or the flying paper.

The providing of home amusement is a topic worthy of serious thought. The fireside must be made pleasant, the social circle must be formed not of iron links, but of golden, or the young soul will break them and seek enjoyment elsewhere. Intellectual food though of the best quality, is not sufficient the mind must be refreshed, as well as instructed. But beyond the home circle the thoughts of the young will grope for enjoyment with a hunger that may feed on hurtful food if proper nourishment be not provided.

What these various amusements must be, is not for any one person to decide. They must be determined by intelligent foresight into the needs of the young and adjusted to time and place. It is by no means difficult to draw a dividing line between those that are positively hurtful and those that are entirely innocent. Some are decidedly of doubtful tendency, especially those involv

ing great personal familiarity between the sexes; yet strange to say, many good and decorous persons tolerate only these, and condemn many that are perfectly harmless. The flavor of Puritanism is still so strong among many religious denominations that dancing, games, theatres and even private theatricals are forbidden, and he who breaks the church canon in this respect, meets with severer discipline than he who neglects the "weightier matters of the law."

It cannot be denied that many amusements may be so perverted and abused as to become pernicious; but the abuse of a thing, is by no means an argument against its proper use. The condition of a glutton is an argument against gluttony, and not against satisfying the demands of hunger; and if a person faints from the fatigue of a short walk, the fault is chargeable not to the walk but to the condition of the system before the walk.

So with amusements. There is need of training and restraint here as in other branches of education. It is a well established fact that those who have been debarred from proper participation in amusements will, when the restraint is removed, be far more likely to go to the opposite extreme and make dissipation of what should have been simply amusement. This is especially the case when the restriction has proceeded from religious opinions. Converts to any belief are apt to be zealous at first, and this is especially the case with religious converts. Take from a person the bonds which have restrained him, whether they be parental authority or the scruples of his own conscience and the largeness of his new liberty bewilders him; its draughts of pleasure intoxicate him. Perhaps the indulgence in what he once deemed sinful, may have special charms for him, a taint of inheritance from the frail woman who cared not for all other trees so long as one was forbidden her.

Music at home in company with wellselected friends; attending a pleasant halfimpromptu party without the glitter of show, the rivalry and heart burnings of display, a party where song and dance and harmless games abound, would keep many a young man from haunts that lead to sin, would

draw him from the street and the drinking saloon; would hold many a young girl within the charmed circle of home, while siren voices outside would be harmless to tempt her. It is a mistaken, a pernicious idea, that amusements and religion are incompatible. A young person is not necessarily devoid of heavenly graces because possessed of grace of motion; nor is a good voice for singing, inconsistent with fervent piety. But the javelin of Saul is still thrown at David, even though the evil spirit may depart for a time. Yet David's song comes down the ages, thrilling and exalting the soul to rapture, its touching minor the only epitaph, the only eulogy of the dethroned and discrowned Saul.

Let fathers look less to money-getting, and mothers less to dress and display, and let intelligent amusements be provided for their children. Let the clergy restrain their anathemas against theatres and dancing, and teach the young that the deadly sins are quite as often found under the mask of religion, as in the merry dance, or the harm

TH

less game. If actors are not always patterns of propriety, neither are members of church choirs always worthy to be canonized.

Fine houses and costly furniture may exert an influence on the taste of the young, but a more powerful influence is found in the pleasures that cluster around the fireside; in the happy hours whose memory in after years will hallow the home and bind its members, scattered though they Le, in in the golden links of love, will turn back to the path of duty the erring footsteps of the young, and cast a halo around the tottering steps of the aged.

"We may think what we will of it now, but the song and the story heard around the kitchen fire, have colored the lives of most of us, have given the germs of whatever poetry blesses our hearts, whatever of memory blooms in our yesterdays. Attribute whatever we may to the school and schoolmaster, the rays which make that little day we call life, radiate from the Godswept circle of the hearthstone."

HERE is a time in the experience of every man who is of much worth in the world, when he forms the deliberate resolution, to make the best possible use of the powers and opportunities given him of God. This is the turning point in his history, the hour to which he may look back with gratitude through all after time, when his true life began.

It is not a fickle or a feeble resolution. Such a turning of one's face toward the right, will have an influence over the character. Every one has longings after goodness and greatness. Every one says to himself from time to time, "I will mend my ways, I will do better in the future than I have done in the past." But unhappily with many it is only an ebullition of feeling, a flitting and uncertain resolution that comes and is gone, and so they continue in their evil ways. The resolution, the purpose of which we are speaking, and which marks the turning point in a life, is so deep, earnest and sincere, that it at once affects all the issues of character. You can tell in a day when one has formed that resolution.

F. L. Curtis.

An improvement is seen at once in his habits and manners. Whatever is hurtful or degrading is dropped and left behind. Whatever is helpful is sought after and cultivated. Vicious companions feel that he is outgrowing them in some mysterious way, that the tie of sympathy between them is broken; good men rejoice in the upward tendencies and new unfoldings which they see in him from day to day.

Some reach this turning point early in life-so early indeed that it may better perhaps be called a starting than a turning. I have seen little boys and girls that were scarcely beyond the years of childhood, who seemed to aspire toward goodness in everything. Every word and deed revealed the truth, that the high resolve was already taken. In the home, in the school, in the Sunday School, everywhere and under all circumstances, they sought to be foremost in everything great and good, to do their part as well as they could, to gather treasures of wisdom and experience that would help them in all subsequent years. Others squander opportunities in childhood, but

while the flush of youth is still upon their cheeks, see the folly of their course and seek to redeem the time. Others turn when the cares of mature years begin to weigh them down; and some forsake the paths of sin even in old age.

But he only can realize the best possibilities of his nature, and reap the richest harvest of which he is capable, who devotes to the pursuit of knowledge and the practice of virtue, his earliest years and all his years. It is better that this change should come in maturity or old age, than that it should not come at all. It is better to devote a remnant of our life to the service of God than to give it all to the devil. But it is a great misfortune, an irreparable loss, if we give any part of it to the service of sin. Do you say, "Let him sow his wild oats, he will come out all right by-and-by!" My young friends, who read these lines, remember that these "wild oats," occupy and corrupt fields that might be raising good and useful grain. While you are sowing "wild oats," you are neglecting a culture that would enrich your whole life. More than this, the "wild oats" which you sow will spring up and produce a harvest. You will have to reap them by-and-by, reap them with shame and sorrow. The excesses of youth are drafts upon riper years, which must be paid with interest compounded.

That was a significant. story of the man who gave his little son a hammer and some nails, and told him that whenever he did anything that was wrong he might drive one of the nails into the barn door. The boy was honest and diligent too, and in a few days he came to his father saying that the last nail was in its place well driven down. "And now," said the father, "whenever you do any specially good deed, you may draw out one of the nails." This pleased the son. He was as diligent in goodness now as he had been in badness before. He carried his little sister over the rough places, and then went and drew a nail. He sawed some wood for a poor widow and drew another nail. He ran on willing errands for his mother that he might have a chance to draw more nails. In a few days the last one was removed, and he came with pride to tell his father.

"What, all drawn so soon?" said the father. "Every one," responded the son.

"Let us go and see,” said the father.

Come, then," said the son, and he led the way. See, see," said the eager boy, "there is not a nail left in the door, and I assure you that I did something good for every nail I drew."

"I am glad, my dear son," said the father, "that the task of removing them is so quickly done, but then," continued he sadly, "don't you see how you have marred and injured the door? The nails are gone, but the scars remain."

My dear young friends, do not drive any of those rough nails of sin. Even though you may repent and reform, they will leave scars in your hearts and dark blots on your memory. Do not sow any "wild oats" at all, but let your earliest years be devoted to the culture of all things good and pure. Then when maturity comes with its cares, or age with its infirmities, you can reap an abundant harvest of love, and trust, and peace.

I do not mean to say that you should be old men and women, while you are yet youths or children, that you should always be sedate or serious, or severe in your deportment. I glory in the exuberent joy, the freshness and fervor of childhood and youth. What I desire to commend and urge is this, that in all things you should do right, and try to be as wise and good and noble as you can. Be manly in every thing, mean in nothing. If you began wrong, if you have fallen into evil habits or vicious ways, if you are squandering noble powers and neglecting precious opportunities, stop just where you are; do not take another step in that direction; turn directly about and start anew.

Above all, do not try to walk in your own strength. While you exercise all the will and power and purpose which you possess, look to God for help continually. Pray for his guidance and blessing, study the teachings, cultivate the spirit, and follow the example of Jesus the Christ. Then your character will be round, ripe, harmonious, complete. Then the path of life that lies before you will be as a "light shining more and more unto the perfect day."

A. J. Patterson.

L'ENVOI.

Our little world; and yet how wide, -
What stretch of lands and seas divide
Beneath the self-same skies!
How long is time, how wide is space,
Measured from one small hiding-place
In these immensities!

Out to the sweet and soothing night
I lean a face with stars alight,

And think of all I love.

Or near or far, my swift thought runs,
And circles round its chosen ones,
Like the great thought above.
Nor these alone, but all who lie
At rest beneath this guardian sky
While tumults pause and cease,—
My taper sends its glow-worm spark
Into the great world's outer dark,

With hail of love and peace.

O friends beloved, God keep you all! Softly my prayers and blessings fall On each unconscious head.

VOL. LI. 5

Your eyes from tears, your hearts from pain,

Your homes with joy, your store with gain,
Be kept and comforted.

Live on, beloved, that life may be
The richer for your ministry,

One brightness, far and near;
I dare not dream-you cannot know,
How poor were earth if you should go
Out of its light and cheer!

And you, unloved because unknown,
Whose hearts still beat with mine, as one,
God bless you all to-night!

Your unknown dreams, your unheard prayers,

Your secret hopes, and fears, and cares,

Be precious in His sight.

And if there be some hearts estranged,
Who deem me false, who find me changed,
Whose love from mine is riven,
O friends, where'er the blame may lie,
Let it to-night forever die, -

Forgive, and be forgiven!

There is no room for strife or hate,
We are so small, and God so great,
And His all wrong's redress.
Forget the blind, unworthy deed;
Remember each heart's sorest need,
Pity and tenderness.

There's not enough of love to lose,
There's not enough of joy to choose,

That we should miss the least.
But love need ask no doubtful leave;
She still can give though none receive,
And find the giving blest.

O hearts that on my own take hold,
O hearts indifferent and cola,

One blessing on you tall.
Life is so weak, and fate so strong,
And joy so short, and grief so long,

God help and shield you all!

O kindred of one common blood,
I give you pledge of brotherhood
Sworn to this heaven above.
The word is poor, the gift is small,
Broken and vain the deeds may fall, -
The will is all of love!