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an escape from immediate death! Little information could be got from the child himself; but that little showed that this was the way his life was saved.

When they got him home, and had changed his clothes, Mr. Johnson kindly took him on his knee, and asked him many questions, especially as to the moment when he was falling down. He replied, that "It blowed up his new frock." Mr. Johnson asked him how he felt. With a half-smile the child looked up at him and said, "It tickled," * meaning that such was his feeling from the action of the air as he was falling.

One of the good women was sent to Mrs. Shaw to tell her with careful kindness all about the wonderful escape of little Tom. She was greatly shocked, but truly thankful to God for his lovingkindness, and hastened home to see her darling boy. She said to her friend, as they returned to her house, that she could now see the kind hand of God in guiding her to choose that thick stuff which she bought for his pinafore. She said she was very near buying a "softer" one; but she thought it her duty to be careful with her little money, and to buy the cheapest. How little she thought that by doing so she would save her child's life!

Little Tom was talked about a good deal, and many people went to see the little boy who had fallen down the coal-pit, and also to look at the old pit, and some were very kind indeed to the family. Poor little Emily received many gentle lessons never again to leave her little brother alone, which she was not very likely to forget. Her mother kindly pointed out to her the sin of disobeying the instrnctions which she had given her not to go into that field at all, which had nearly caused her brother's death; and showed her the duty of confessing the sin to God, asking him for his forgiveness, and for strength to obey her mother, and thus keep his commandment, "Honour thy father and thy mother."

Now, my dear little friends, there are some sins that are likened to "deep pits" like that which poor Tommy Shaw fell into, and if we fall into them we may be ruined for ever.

There is the pit of falsehood, into which many young people fall. They wish to hide something wrong that they have done, and, instead of honestly saying, "I did it, but I will never do it again," they deny it, and thus tell a lie, and add that great sin to the first. How much better to acknowledge a fault at once. Oh, never try to hide a sin by telling a lie; but remember that if no one was near to see you, God's eye was upon you, and that it will please him if you confess your sin.

And there is the pit of dishonesty. How many fall into it! But I will hope that you are taught better than even to think of taking or keeping anything which is not your own. If you find anything that has been lost, the best way is always to take it at once to your father or mother, or some elder friend, telling the simple truth about it, and they will be sure to guide you right. You will thus have a mind at peace, and gain the respect of those around you. Oh, what sad tales I could tell you of young people who, in a moment of thoughtlessness and temptation, have taken things that were not theirs. How they have been afraid to look round, fearing that some one was coming after them!-how they feared every knock that came to the door!-were afraid to go to bed!-afraid to show any one the wretched thing they had stolen, until in their misery they have thrown it away! But still they carried with them the sin they had committed. Oh, what would they have given if they had never done that wicked act!

Then there is the pit of disobedience. Poor Emily, you see, fell into that. Her mother told her not to go into that field, and never to lose sight of little Tom: she did both, and the poor little fellow fell down the coal-pit. By the goodness of God and tho kindness of friends his life was saved. Well, we will not say more of her sin, poor child! She suffered much, and repented bitterly, and we may well suppose how careful she would be ever after. But let us never forget that obedience is commanded by God. Children, obey your parents in the Lord; for this is right." (Gal. vi. 1.) You are saved much trouble by following the directions of those who are older and wiser, and better than yourselves.

Now I fancy I know what some of you are thinking about. Shall I tell you? You say to yourself, "I should really like to be always good, but somehow I cannot: sometimes I forget, and sometimes I feel as if I could not help doing wrong." Well, now, I will tell you how you may help it. Ask God to help you; tell him how weak you feel, and he will be sure to give you strength; for the Lord Jesus says, "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you." So, my dear little friends, ask, and he will give you strength; scek, and ye shall find a loving friend; knock at heaven's gate by prayer, and he will gently open it.

The child's own words.

SCRIPTURE ENIGMA.

NO. L

One by one we come to thee; one by one we leave,
Giving thee of joy or grief what thou shalt receive;
Taking from thee somewhat more than thou dost perceive.
Numbered are our days and hours, and we dare not stay
One short moment, when the last once hath passed away:
Nor, though thou entreatest, can we return for aye.
Yet we living, safely keep in sure memory
Faithful records of thy life in Time's treasury;
These we hold in trust for thee through eternity.

Be it thine to write them fair! Treading wisdom's way,
Seek thou thy Creator now,-daring no delay,
Lest we steal thy best from thee.-What is this?—now say.
By our aid to wisdom grown, thou shall farther learn
Patience, and, with one of old, trial to glory turn;
Say what patience works for thee, if thou canst discern.
Not to all we bring what next we would bid thee tell,
For with many, yea with most, long we do not dwell;
That is it which dimmed the eyes of dying Israel.
Gifts are ours, yet one, alas! we never can bestow;
Say what is that blessing, untasted here below,
Which by faith each child of God shall hereafter know?
Lastly, what do all who live surely some time feel,
Which our God most merciful promiseth to heal?
The initial letters of these words will our name reveal.
Learn our worth!-thy wealth are we-talents to be used-
Winning thee eternal life: hidden or abused

Bringing sorrow; and thy shame thou shalt sec, confused.

ANSWERS TO BIBLE QUESTIONS.

NO. XVIII-REJOICING.

1. The wise men of the East; Matt. ii. 10.

2. The disciples when they saw a risen Saviour; John xx. 20. Rhoda when she saw Peter; Acts xii. 14.

3. Deborah's; Judges v. Hannah's; 1 Sam. ii. 1.

4. The Virgin Mary; Luke i. 47.

5. The Ethiopian eunuch; Acts viii. 39.

6. Michal ridiculed David when he danced for joy before the ark; 2 Sam. vi. 20-23.

7. Zacchæus; Luke xix. 6.

8. Samaria, which rejoiced at the preaching of Philip; Acts viii. 8.

9. The apostles, in Acts v. 41. Paul and Silas; Acts xvi. 25. 10. The Hidden Treasure; Matt. xiii. 44. The Lost Sheep: Luke xv. 5. The Lost Picce of Silver; Luke xv. 9. The Prodigal Son: Luke xv. 23.

where I must be to vindicate poor Jones; and then there are many poor sick who need comfort and help. I shall not be at home before five o'clock. Give me a sandwich to put in my pocket. I will have some tea when Ereturn; and. I hope I shall be able to spend an hour in preparing for my evening's work."

"I wish I could go to the meeting for you," said the anxious wife, with a sigh; "or visit some of the sick; but do take a little soup before you go, if you won't have the medicine."

Mr. Henry nodded, and tried to look cheerfully at her as she left the room.

"Very selfish, very selfish!" he exclaimed, when alone; "but oh, what a weight is here!" laying his hand on his heart. "How can I go through this day? I feel as if it were utterly impossible to take that lecture to-night-utterly impossible."

"Now, love," said Mrs Henry, coming in with a neat packet of sandwiches in one hand, and a soup cup in the other; "this is just as you like it, well skimmed, and seasoned nicely. Nay, love, take it while it is hot, and I will put these in your great-coat pocket; and be sure, dear, not to forget them, as you often do, and bring them back again all broken to pieces, hard and dry."

Mr. Henry promised obedience; and the good wife stirred the soup and looked at his pale face; then, taking the little packet. left the room, saying to herself, "There's something the matter with him. L wish I knew how to help him; but he cannot take anything better than that soup, and there's a glass of port wine in it-he wouldn't touch it if he knew itbut I'm sure it's good for him; and it can't be wrong to give it him."

While she was deliberating which of his pockets would be best for the sandwiches--and it was a matter that demanded deliberation-for it must be a pocket he frequently used, or he would probably entirely for got to put his hand in it for them, and then it must be a pocket of a certain size, or he would as probably | knock them out in taking out his book, if there happened not to be sufficient room easily to accommodate both, or he would forget to dive down to the bottom if the accommodation were too ample. Well, while she was deliberating, there came a ring at the bell, and she heard the click of the opening and shutting of the parlour: door..

"Now, that is a pity!" she exclaimed, going to, ascertain who had so uukindly interrupted him in taking his soup.

"It's poor Mr. Farmer, ma'am, as lost his wife in decline, you know, and he looks just fit to follow her; I never see a mair walk about so thin and white," said Jane.

"Poor man, a little soup would do him good, Jane; have a basin ready by the time he goes, and make him some toast to eat with it; and be quick, for your master must be at the meeting by cleven, so he cannot stay long."

Jane with all willingness put on the soup to warm, and began to make the toast; but eleven o'clock came, and still Mr. Henry and poor Farmer were closeted in the parlour.

Mrs. Henry at last bethought herself that it was one of her dear good husband's weaknesses not to be able to tell any one to go, however pressing the need might be that he should do so; so, as she had done before, she did now-went to the rescue, and knocking gently at the door, entered with the great coat over her arm.

As she did so, they rose from their knees.

"I am very sorry, love, to disturb you," she said, with a deprecating tone; "but indeed you will be very late, it's nine minutes past eleven now; and if you walk too fast, you will be sure to bring on the neuralgic pain; besides, you want to make haste, you know, to be home as early as you can to prepare for the lecture."

A slight gloom overshadowed her husband's face at the last words; but he took the coat from her with thanks for her caution, and telling Farmer he hoped to see him soon, bade him good-bye.

"Poor Farmer does look ill," said Mrs. Henry, when they were alone; "but better than I expected to see him, more comfortable, and not so ghastly in the face."

"Poor fellow!" replied Mr. Henry; "he has need of comfort; he has lost his wife, my dear;" and he pressed his kind and loving partner in his arms as she adjusted the collar of his coat.

Poor Farmer!" said Mrs. Henry, her eyes glistening with tears-more of love for her husband, if truth must be told, than of sympathy with Farmer, for whom, however, she felt not a little.

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Now, you will remember the sandwiches," she said, as Mr. Henry hastened into the street; "in the left-hand pocket, love, with your bag of small change." "Quite right, I'll remember," said Mr. Henry, smiling and modding.

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His wife watched him from the window till he was out of sight, then looking round the room, she spied the soup cup empty. Come, he won't hurt, even if he forgets the sandwiches," she said; "that was a lucky thought of mine about the wine;" and she congratulated herself on the fraud until her face wore a most benignant smile.

"You was just about making her unhappy for the day," said Jane, when she was left alone with Betsy. Why, if you'd a gone and told her that master gave his soup to Farmer, and made him cat it, and that was why he couldn't take any more at the present, she'd be a grieving her heart out."

"I'm glad you stopped me," said Betsy.

And so would any kind heart have been, for the firm persuasion that that insinuated glass of port wine was, throughout that morning's work, fortifying her husband, and carrying him unscathed through it, cheated the tender wife into cheerful serenity.

On and on walked Mr. Henry, a strange jumble in his mind-the sorrows of poor Farmer, the affectionate solicitude of his good wife, the advocacy he must exercise for his churchwarden, Jones, the various calls he had to make; but over and through all, the evening lecture like a spectre rode. Why was it so? He had never felt so cast down before; his lectures were invariably crowded; at the last he gave, he had been so powerfully assisted that he knew he had spoken with an unction which gave him power over those he addressed: but where now was that unction, that power? He had prayed, earnestly sought for a quickened spirit, for a

heart burning with love, for lips of knowledge, but he felt stupid, dull, cold, dead.

"It is a temptation, it is surely a temptation," he said, hastening on. "I shall have help in the hour of need; but, Lord, what is man? what am I?”

The meeting was wearisome, and little calculated to refresh his spirit; to be sure he succeeded in his purpose, and Jones was satisfied with the result, and grateful to him. Morcover, the humility with which he spoke while firmly maintaining his point, greatly gained on a man who had hitherto been his bitterest opponent, and forced him to respect the principles of his minister, and acknowledge that he acted consistently with them.

As he left the meeting, he looked over his memorandum book, that he might shape his course according to the habitations of those whom he wished to visit, and having fixed his plans for a start, at any rate, made the best of his way to a miserable district, where he knew that sin and wretchedness were visibly allied.

"I'll get over the worst first," he mentally ejaculated.

The worst; who can describe the worst of the worst districts of the great city of London?

Has it not been recently declared that with all that Christian love and political sagacity combined have done and are doing, there are yet one million of immortal beings in the great eity who never come under any religious instruction?

There are dens of darkness-the black darkness of heathen ignorance and of hardy infidelity-where Satan reigns triumphant, all-powerful, undisturbed. It is into some of these polluted strongholds that the Bible woman is now trying to penetrate; and here it is that to catch the ear of some stray prisoner of the evil one, wandering from his gloomy home, the street preacher lifts his voice, if peradventure some word of warning or counsel may, by God's blessing, reach the heart; and district visitors and city missionaries go about delivering that message of mercy which alone can snatch soul and body from perdition-a message these poor creatures will never purposely go to hear, and which has never been carried into their noisome dwellings.

eye,

Well, it was into the worst part of his district that Mr. Henry now plunged. To some he spoke, to others he read, with a few he prayed; but he saw the keen in most cases, fixed on his hand every time he put it to his pocket. Each visit left him more depressed than the last, and still the presentiment of being found unequal for his lecture gained strength as he considered: "I am unable to impress a single hearer, my message returns to me void; how shall I be able to speak effectually to so great a company ?"

The afternoon wore on, he looked at his watch; should he finish his visits, or return to rest, and try to recruit his mind and spirit?

While he debated, a young woman stopped, and said civilly

Sir, I think by your looks you are a clergyman. I saw you come out of that alley."

"Yes, I am."

"I wish you'd be so kind as to go and see grandfather; he's so wishful to speak to a clergyman, and I don't know where to find one."

Mr. Henry looked perplexed. His own proper work he had all but decided on postponing, and now a new call was inviting him. The importance of his evening work, not a desire of escape from toil, determined his

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| answer, and he said, kindly: "I would most willingly go with you, but I am much pressed for time to-day. I was just going to return home. You can tell him that, God willing, I will see him to-morrow." The girl looked discontented, and did not answer. "You will tell him so," repeated Mr. Henry. "Don't know that he'll be alive to-morrow," she said; "he's been very bad to-day,"

"True, he may not be alive to-morrow," said Mr. Henry; "I will go now;" and he walked quickly on, following the girl.

The old man's dwelling-place was at some distance, and when he had reached it, Mr. Henry felt very weary and languid, and put his hand in his pocket to search for the sandwiches; but, as his careful wife had not put them in the usual pocket, he took it for granted he had lost them, forgetting entirely her parting words, and satisfied to look no further.

He found the old man asleep, resting from a severe fit of pain; the expression of his face was as tranquil as that of an infant. Mr. Henry stept softly to the door, not sorry to be spared further expenditure of his strength.

"God willing, I will see him to-morrow," he whispered to the girl.

But the eyes opened, and a wistful look of entreaty arrested him.

"Are you strong enough to bear my speaking to you?" he asked, returning.

"Raise me a bit," said the old man to his grandchild, in a weak voice. "Yes, sir, I'm a deal better since that sleep, and shall be so glad to hear you."

"The room is so dark I can scarcely see to read to you," said Mr. Henry; "but the words I repeat shall be exactly as they stand in the Bible ?"

Good, sir; then lot me have them; blessed Lo God for the Bible!"

"Blessed be God that you can say so!" cried Mr. Henry, to whom the words were an elixir.

"With my last breath let me say it-The Bible that tells us of Jesus the Saviour: blessed be God for that."

"Amen. When did you begin to love the Bible ?`` "At the eleventh hour, sir; but a few years ago, and I was in the darkness of death.”

Mr. Henry found that the old man had not been a profligate character, but had lived in a state of apathetic indifference to all things beyond his mere animal existence, but that having received an injury which caused him to go to the hospital, the chaplain there had said words to him which awoke him to a sense of his condition. On leaving the hospital, he had bought a Bible, which he had diligently studied ever since, going to worship whenever and wherever he could find an opportunity.

"It was only this day week, sir, I went to the service in that great schoolroom to hear about the blessed cross of Christ; here, child, where's the paper? I saw this paper, sir, so I went, and I do believe it was the crowning mercy of my God to send me there first, before he called me to appear before him."

Mr. Hepry looked at the paper; it was the announcement of his last week's lecture.

"Then you think you were helped by what you heard?" he said.

"I know it, I know it," said the old man.

“Oh,

I thought to go again to-day, but the will of the Lord be done; but I know I shall love that preacher in heaven for the good he did me that night. It was a

blessed sight to see that sea of faces all waiting to hear the word of eternal life. When I first went in and saw them all, and just one little place put up at one end of the room with a table and a chair, where the preacher was to be, such a weight came over my heart, and I felt, how can one man satisfy all these? And I wanted them to be satisfied, sir; and then I thought of the miracle of the loaves and the fishes; but then I said, it isn't the Lord Jesus, but a poor sinner like one of us that's to sit in that chair; and I looked and looked to see what like he'd be when he came. And, if you'll believe me, I was all of a tremble for him, thinking of the work, and what sort of a man that must be that could do it; and I could almost have heard my heart beat when the door opened, and there came one, and laid a great Bible on the table then I was glad. Then my thoughts took a turn, and I didn't fear. There's the bread, I thought. There's the preacher. There's Christ himself in his word; there's enough to feed a whole world, and more than soven baskets full may be taken up after these have been filled. And when the preacher came, I never concerned myself a moment about him, but sat and listened at the gracious words with delight, and I believe there were many many like me, that quite forgot the preacher, clinging to the gospel that he preached.' "Then you wouldn't be afraid for him if you could go to-night," said Mr. Henry.

"Afraid for him, sir! I should be very afraid, if he sat there by himself, but not when he's there with that Bible before him, and the Spirit of God as the interpreter. That's the power of God unto salvation, you know, sir; one might knock at the heart for ever with any other hammer, but it's a strange hammer, is the Bible; why, even this heart of rock couldn't stand against it."

The old man's vehemence exhausted him; but Mr. Henry saw that want of proper food had as much to do with his weakness as the pain he had endured. He felt for his money bag, which had travelled from pocket to pocket during his visits, till it had fairly hidden itself, but in his search he discovered the lost sandwiches. He left them, with a small bottle of wine, which he always carried with him for sacramental purposes, and went on his way rejoicing-not, however, before he had gladdened the old man's heart by the better bread and wine of gospel invitation and promise.

"Can I doubt ? Shall I doubt? Dare I doubt ?" he said, as he walked homewards. "Oh no; who hath made man's mouth? Shall I not have such power as He whose word I am charged with shall see needful to deliver it? Vain, vain; I have been looking to the poor talents that he has given me, to my own faith, my own love, to myself." And he longed for the privacy of his study, that he might prostrate himself before his God, and bless him for the lesson he had so graciously taught him, and entreat that he might go forth in the strength of simplicity.

Why, my dear," said Mrs. Henry, who had watched for him, and opened the door on his return, I really think you look less tired than when you went out." "Get me a good tea, my dear, with a mutton chop, I shall be down in twenty minutes or half an hour," he said, hastening to his study, and bolting the door.

"What a remarkable man he is," said his wife; "but I believe that wine had a good deal to do with it; and really," feeling in his great-coat pocket, "he's been very good, he's eaten the sandwiches."

"If he didn't give them away, ma'am," said Jane, with a half smile.

“Oh dear, Jane, perhaps he did," said her mistress; "do two chops for fear."

Not a trace of care or langour was on Mr. Henry's brow when he came down to tea.

Two or three times his anxious wife was obliged to say, "Had you better talk, dear, so much? won't it tire you?" He smiled, but his heart said gaily, “I shall not be the preacher to-night, an infallible preacher will be there;" and many bore witness to the power of that preacher-God's own word, applied by the Holy Spirit, that night. It was fulness of bread to the hungry. It was wine and milk to the faint, it was balm to the wounded heart, medicine to the sick; and hard hearts were smitten by that strange hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces.

HEBREW, GREEK, AND LATIN.

THE INSCRIPTION UPON THE CROSS.

EVERYTHING connected with the life of the Redeemer upon earth, is viewed with affectionate interest by his disciples; but the incidents which cluster around the closing scenes of that life are looked upon with altogether peculiar emotions. To one of these we are about to direct attention for a few moments; we allude to the inscription placed upon the cross. All the evangelists record the fact of an inscription attached to the cross when Jesus was crucified, and they all inform us that it designated him "The King of the Jews." It will be remembered that the Lord was accused of treasonably calling himself by this title, and endeavouring to claim regal authority. This was, of course, a political offence, and as such could be condemned by the Roman tribunal. Another circumstance to be observed is, that after sentence had been pronounced upon him, the soldiers mocked him, putting upon him a scarlet robe and a crown of thorns, placing a reed in his hand as a sceptre, and bowing before him while they smote and spat upon him, and derisively cried out," Hail, king of the Jews." In harmony with these things, all the evangelists speak of the inscription; but there are some verbal differences in the form of their narrative, and of the inscription itself as given by them. St. Matthew tells us that those who crucified the Saviour, "set over his head his accusation written" (xxvii. 37). St. Mark more briefly says, "the superscription of his accusation was written over (xiii. 26). St. Luke informs us, that a superscription was written over him in letters of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew (xxiii. 38). St. John is more minute, and says, "Pilate wrote a title and put it on the cross:" of course meaning that it was placed there by his orders. This evangelist adds, that many of the Jews read the title, which was written in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and that the Jews wished to have it altered, but Pilate refused to comply with them (xix. 19-22). By putting these accounts together, we easily arrive at the facts of the case.

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But the inspired writers of the gospels say more: they all give us copies of the title or inscription of the cross. As the copies are not all verbally the same, we quote them here, from the authorized version, arranging them according to their length :— Mark. "The King of the Jews." Luke. "This is the King of the Jews."