ever. He had a somewhat military look; indeed, he had been in the army when young; but a brother, who was Vicar of Earlston, died, and Horatius, not caring for a soldier's life, took his place. He entered the Church as a profession, but determined to do his duty. He very seldom wrote sermons, but generally read part of one by some old divine, always telling the name of the author. He often concluded by gathering up the points of the discourse in a few simple words of his own. Anything like pretence was hateful to the worthy Vicar. Nothing vexed him more than the advertisements of "sermons lithographed so as not to be distinguished from written," which were constantly being sent to him. One day he wrote a hasty letter to the Archdeacon, advising that dignitary to preach a sermon to the clergy from Jer. xxiii. 30:—“Behold, I amı against the prophets, saith the Lord, that steal my words, every one from his neighbour." There were considerable charities at Earlston Church, but the Vicar always distributed them equally among the deserving poo, whether they attended church or chapel. When a neighbouring clergyman reminded him that this was not the way to increase his congregation, he replied, "Christ rebuked the multitudes who followed him because of the loaves and fishes, and should His ministers encourage them to do so?" When asked why he did not "put down Dissent," the Vicar quietly smiled, and opening the New Testament, read, "And John answered and said, Master, we saw one casting out devils in thy name; and we forbad him, because he followeth not with us. And Jesus said, Forbid him not; for he that is not against us is for us."

66

Mr. Clifford was an aristocrat, both by birth and education. An earl's blood ran in his veins, and his youth had been spent at Eton and Oxford. But he had strong sympathies with the poor. He gave them what is even more rare than sympathy-respect. He was as pleasantly courteous in the cot of the peasant as in the palace of the peer. Why should I not be ?" the Vicar would say. "Is not a poor man created in the image of God?" As a clergyman, he considered himself to be the natural friend and champion of the working people. He rather surprised the Squire one day. That portly gentleman, whilst enjoying wine and walnuts after a sumptuous dinner, was talking in his usual pompous style about the ingratitude of the poor. Mr. Clifford listened for a time, and then spoke out. "Come, Sir, there are two sides to this question. What right have you to expect gratitude from the poor? You shelter them worse than your horses, feed them worse than your dogs, bow down their shoulders with unmitigated labour, and offer the prospect of death in the workhouse as the reward of a life of toil; and then expect, forsooth, gratitude. The farm labourer ought indeed to be grateful, but it is to the good God, who makes the lark musical in the sky to cheer the worker below-who decks for him the earth with daisies, and the hedges with may-who turns even his weariness into

a blessing, so that sweet sleep visits his eyelids,' whether he eat little or much—who is the sympathising Saviour of the poor, in all their afflictions afflicted, and who provides for every toiler the quiet grave, where the 'wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."

The Squire stared in astonishment at this earnest utterance, but remained silent, sipping his sherry. He shortly afterwards privately remarked to a friend, that "Clifford was a fine fellow, but remarkably whimsical."

Is it any wonder that the Vicar was almost adored by the villagers? Even the children would watch anxiously to catch his eye, that they might touch their caps, or make a courtesy. But perhaps, after all, it was by the bedside of the sick and the dying that the Vicar shone brightest. No man could be more faithful, no man more tender; no one smote selfrighteousness with a more unsparing hand, no one more lovingly soothed a wounded spirit. Goldsmith's words were true of him—

"Beside the bed where parting life was laid,

And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd,
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise."

But there the Vicar stands. God bless him! A gleam of faint April sunshine lights up his face as he looks at the ruined tower.

"Beccy, Beccy, go to the door," said Mrs. Burton, hearing a rap. Beccy obeys, and finding herself face to face with the parson, blushes until her forehead is as red as her hair, and makes a courtesy so low that with difficulty she recovers her balance.

(To be continued.)

think

I have no objection whatever to the most thorough scientific investigation; I - would not attempt to disturb any man in his studies, by throwing the Bible at his head; but let us have well ascertained and clearly defined facts, and let us remember everywhere and always that an hypothesis in science is no more authoritative than a speculation in theology. Scientific men must be willing to submit to as rigid tests as those which they apply to theologians; and when this is thoroughly done, it will be found that this generation is very much such an era in science as the middle ages were in theology, and that the theology of the schoolmen and the science of the nineteenth century will be found to stand on very much the same footing; that is to say, it will be found that the conclusions have generally run far beyond the premisses, and that the alleged facts, in all their length and breadth, have oftener been discovered by the imagination than by the perceptive faculties.

The attainments of science in our day have been worthy of all praise and admiration; and yet I believe, when the torches of future scientific generations have been applied to the big heap which we now see before us, and the wood, hay and stubble have all been burned out, the gold, silver, and precious stones which survive the incremation will be found, after all, to make only a very moderate-sized pile. This is especially true when the speculations of science apparently come in conflict with the truths of religion. There can be really no conflict between the two. Whatever appears to be such must be the result of misunderstanding, and not of accurate knowledge.

A PASTOR'S NOTE-BOOK.

"I have culled a garland of flowers, and the only thing that I can call my own is the string that binds them." MONTESQUIEU.

From thyself seek to be freed,
And whatever else you need
Will come.
Flowers do not make their beauty,
This proceeds from life, not duty.
Dew descends in calm and quiet,
Making neither noise nor riot.
Light, which brings us joy and day,
Silently speeds on its way;

Things both great and small it reaches,
Of itself it never preaches.
In its work we see it shine,
Own its Source must be divine.
Strive to be, as well as do;
Keep not self, but Christ in view.
Let your fruit, however fair,
Spring from what you really are.

SABBATH DUTIES.

To those earnest Christians who engage 1 a large amount of church-going, teaching, and other spiritual labours, we would arnestly say,-Do not give all your Sabbath to Christian activities of any kind. Every good thing has its attendant dangers; and the danger attendant on the

Sunday arrangements of many philanthropic Christians is the loss of nearly all secret devotion, and quiet meditation, and heart communion with God. With many people there is more preaching heard than remembered-more swallowing than digestion-more head-work than heart-work-more bustle than devotion. No one can be a living, growing Christian who does not feed the fountains with secret communion with God.

BRODER, DE GRASS GROW!

The first Christian converts in Africa had their separate spot in the thicket, where they used to pour out their hearts to God. The several paths to these little Bethels became distinctly marked, and when any of those Christians began to decline in God's ways, it was soon manifest, and they would kindly remind him of his duty by saying,-" Broder, de grass grow on your path." If any heart cares less for the Saviour's cause than formerly, we may be sure the grass is growing on their path to the closet.

THE JOURNEY OF LIFE.

BENEATH the waning moon I walk at night,
And muse on human life; for all around
Are dim, uncertain shapes, that cheat the sight;
And pitfalls lurk in shade along the ground,
And broken gleams of brightness, here and there,
Glance through, and leave unwarmed the death-like air.

The trampled earth returns a sound of fear-
A hollow sound, as if I walked on tombs ;
And lights, that tell of cheerful homes, appear
Far off, and die, like hope, amid the glooms.
A mournful wind across the landscape flies,
And the wide atmosphere is full of sighs.

And I, with faltering footsteps, journey on,
Watching the stars that roll the hours away,
Till the faint light that guides me now is gone,
And, like another life, the glorious day
Shall open o'er me from the empyreal height,
With warmth, and certainty, and boundless light.

Well-merited Testimonial.

Ar a very interesting meeting of Ministerial and Lay friends, held at the Parsonage, Spa-fields Chapel, on Wednesday, December 21st, 1870, over which the Rev. T. E. Thoresby presided, the following Testimonial was presented to Mr. Willcocks, as a just tribute to his manly, Christian character, and to the position which he has earned for himself in the Community to which he belongs, and to which he is so firmly and loyally attached :

The MINISTERS AND MANAGERS OF CHAPELS AND SCHOOLS IN THE COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON'S CONNEXION, whose names are here appended, have unanimously

RESOLVED—That they hereby record their satisfaction with the appointment, on the 20th of October, 1870, of FREDERICK WILLIAM WILLCOCKS, Esq. to be one of the Trustees of the Cobham-row Estate, in the Countess of Huntingdon's Connexion. For the following reasons:

First, Because the new Trustee is eminently qualified to discharge the duties of the Trust, by his special aptitude for business, his unquestionable devotedness to the Connexion, his intimate knowledge of its affairs, his long experience of its operations, and his spirit of fairness in dealing with the interests of all its several departments.

Second,-Because it is a most welcome return to the earlier usages of the Connexion; for, while there have been many gentlemen in the Connexion congregations well able and ready to serve, no Trustee from any of those Congregations has been appointed to any of the Connexion Trusts for between forty and fifty years.

Third, Because the recent appointment recognizes the most salutary principle, that those who administer the affairs of the Connexion should be bonâ fide members of the Connexion.

Fourth,-Because it serves as a precedent in all future