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think that will be a nice sort of occupation,” thought Tim.

The next was a letter.

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and books of all descriptions lying about on the table. Mary, in a quiet lady-like dress, sat working at a little stand, looking just like Mrs. Penn; and Mr. and Mrs. Penn's three little boys were romping merrily about the floor in nice brown holland suits.

Come, I like this,” thought Tim. It was particularly comfortable to be free from rheumatic gout, and. Tim felt quite light-hearted. He caught sight of his own reflection in the glass, and admired the look of his broad-cloth amazingly. Also, he could not help being struck with the improvement in his face,—the increased width of brow, the lines of thought, and the highly intellectual expression generally.

“I've hit the right thing now," thought Tim; “there couldn't be a jollier life than this.”

So he sat down and began a game with his children, in the midst of which Mary said rather anxiously, "Anthony." · Yes, dear.” “I'm so sorry to trouble you,—but I don't know what to do about the bills this quarter; they are so heavy.

Oh, well, they must be paid,” said Tim.

“But, dear Anthony,-if you don't mind my saying it, I think, unless you manage to make a little more by your writing, it may be difficult.”

Tim most unexpectedly found himself giving vent to a groan.

My dear, if you did but know how I detest being tied down to composition, whether or no I feel disposed—”

“But for the sake of the children, dear Anthony !"

Tim sighed, but allowed that this was indeed a consideration. Still he felt sorely disinclined this morning to go and write. It was quite a relief when the postman's “rat-tat," proved an excuse for a longer delay.

The servant entered, and deposited a bundle of letters and papers on the table. Tim felt quite flattered to see how many were directed to himself.

He opened one, and long printed sheets fell out, with—“Please correct and return quickly,” up in a corner.

“ Proof-sheets to be corrected. Well, I

" DEAR SIR, –

“I hope you do not forget that your promised paper on Humanity to Asses,' for insertion in the Monthly Spouter, is due the day after toWe are depending upon you.

Yours, etc." “I must have forgotten all about it. Dear me, did I begin to write it or no p” thought bewildered Tim.

He opened another letter. "DEAR MR. PENN,

“ Your serial tale in the Arrowy Messenger appears to strike its readers as being somewhat dull, and wanting in sustained interest. Could you not manage to introduce some remarkable or unusual incident. Something is certainly required.

“Yours, etc." “Very rude,” said Tim, indignantly. “ Wanting in interest, indeed!"

Mary looked at him sympathetically, but seemed afraid to speak.

“Ah,-come; here's a notice of my last work," said Tim, opening another envelope. “ Short but sweet. Mary, dear, you will be pleased with this."

«• Motes in the Sunbeams,' by Anthony Penn. A more strikingly well-written, vigorous, manly, and yet pathetic tale it would be hard to find. The reader is at the self-same moment melted into sorrowful tears, and moved into irrepressible laughter. We wish every success to the author.”

Come, there's some one who knows how to appreciate," said Tim. “Here's another,–

666 Motes in the Sunbeams.' Marvellous that any human being can be found equal to the construction of so wishy-washy and senseless a tale."

Tim groaned involuntarily, and Mary said, -O Anthony!”

• Evidently written by some one whose opinion is not worth having," said Tim loftily. " Good-bye, my dear, I must work hard now."

Tim speedily found himself at his desk in his study, a good deal more inwardly rasped by the above criticism than he chose to

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However he spread out his proof- up to the ceiling, he grew hot and distressed sheets, and read them through, making cor- and miserable. All in vain. The thoughts rections as he went. What pleasant easy

wouldn't come. He had never felt less interest work it was! He just gave it a glance again in donkeys in his life. He put aside the unwhen he reached the end, to make sure that written

paper,

and took out his magazine all was right, and immediately pitched upon story, now in process of composition. some bad spelling which he had overlooked. What could he do with that? Wanting in

That wouldn't do. Tim read it again much interest! Something unusual to be intromore carefully; then let his glance fall over duced. Tim ran over possibilities in his mind, the first six lines, and at once discovered two --fire,-wreck,-storm,-loss of fortune,-inmore mistakes.

volved will. They were all common enough in “I say!” and Tim wiped his now heated life, and still more in fiction. Tim came to brow,-"this isn't play-work. Why can't it the dismal conclusion that there was nothing be printed right, without so much bother?” unusual in existence.

“What's the matter ?” asked Mary at his The truth simply was, that Tim's shoes side, when he had completed a third examina- didn't fit. Had they fitted, he would have tion.

learnt wisdom sufficient by this time to take “These wretched things won't come right," more philosophically such a fit of mental said Tim rather angrily, for his shoes were blankness, and to be aware that, in the said pinching him a good deal about the heels. mood, trying to write was simply hopeless. “Just give a glance, will you? I think I He would have known, that though his feelings must have found out all the mistakes now ?” told him he could never again advance a line

“Coach oughtn't to be spelt c-o-c-h-e; ought in his tale, yet on the morrow it would itp" said Mary. “ And spite you have spelt doubtless all come right. The burden of spit. Didn't you see that ?"

anxiety and dread would have been many “No, I didn't; and I don't know who would,” degrees lightened,-in fact, would have besaid Tim, pushing the proof-sheets aside. come quite supportable, if only the shoes had “I've had enough of them for the present."

been Tim's own. And as Mary went away, he muttered, However, Tim spent a good many hours in “What in the world did Mr. Penn mean by misery that day, and went to bed that night calling this pleasant work the other day? with a load of responsibility weighing upon

Shoes don't fit !” whispered a soft voice, him which haunted him in his dreams, though something like the old man's; and Tim was it did not keep him awake. silenced.

Next day he woke up in quite a different He began hunting through his desk for the mood. All the disinclination to write had promised paper which ought to have been forsaken him. He snubbed the little boys written, and presently came upon a large when they came for the short after-breaksheet, on which was inscribed,

fast romp which they had never before “Humanity to Asses. By Anthony Penn. known to fail them. No such paltry con

“It has been well known, and fully admitted, siderations might deter Tim this morning in all ages, and in all generations, by all from proceeding to work. He hurried to the orders and all sections of society, that- study, sat down, and opened his desk. “What? Nothing more than this !”

Come! this was delightful-splendid ! “What was I thinking about when I wrote Tim was in the right vein now, and no that? Oh, dear me!" sighed Tim.

mistake. His pen fairly flew over the

paper, He sat for half an hour, pen in hand, and and his thoughts flew faster than his pen. gazed hopelessly at the empty page.

After two hours and a half, Tim stopped to “How do books ever get written, I wonder," see how much he had written, and found groaned Tim.

some thirty scrawled pages accomplished. Not in this way, seemingly. Tim began to But he did not cease there. He was a great grow desperate. He bit his pen, he writhed deal too much afraid of his ideas forsaking him in his seat, he looked out of the window and again, so he toiled on hour after hour. Really

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he had never known his own powers before. horrid wearing shoes that don't fit! I am He couldn't imagine where all his thoughts sure my heels must be all over blisters. I respecting poor dumb animals sprang from, must get to sleep!” And half unconsciously or what made him feel such a gush of com- Tim pushed off the slippers, as he lay in bed. passion for the condition of asses generally. But sleep was not the result. Down, down

Evening came, and Tim at length listened sank Tim into the cellar, once more helplessly to his Mary's entreaties, and put away his pen. glued to the chair!

How tired and yet how excited he felt. “Too much work again, hey p” said the Tim had known bodily weariness before, but old gentleman, heaving up his blue bag. strain of mind and mental weariness were “I don't mind downright honest work,” altogether a new experience, and Tim cer- said Tim, “but I'm not accustomed to that tainly did not enjoy his present sensations. sort of thing. It's enough to drive a fellow He snapped every one that spoke to him, distracted. I believe it would drive me disfrightened Mary into tears, and made him. tracted in a little while.” self on the whole extremely disagreeable. “Then it's just as well that you

removed Then, when bed-time arrived, Tim found that the shoes, before taking up your abode in a his writing was by no means so easily put lunatic asylum,” was the dry response. "You aside as his workman's tools had been, when want an easier life, I presume p”. he was indeed Tim Teddington. His half- “I just think I do," said Tim. written story haunted him. He was bothered “With nothing to do, ehp” by a dread lest his paper on Asses should “Ah! if that could be. Nothing to do prove after all a failure. He saw sheets of except to amuse myself.” blank paper wherever he turned; and while "Precisely so. And plenty of money ?”

p. perfectly aware that he was lying in bed, he “Yes,” said Tim eagerly, wondering what was yet possessed by an unreasoning belief was coming to pass next. that he would have to fill them all before the “ And a good big house ?" morning. He kept perpetually trying to pick Certainly,” said Tim. up an imaginary pen, which incessantly eluded “You think you would be happy then?” his grasp. Mary slept peacefully; but Tim “Quite,” said Tim emphatically. strove in vain even to lie still, and patience

" Here.” failed him as the hours went on.

Tim caught the shoes flung at him. “I can't stand this. It's worse than Dodd,- “ Whose are they?" worse than the Doctor, worse than anything !" 6 Mr. Berriman's." The fact was, each new experience seemed to Tim gave one delighted and wondering Tim the worst of all while it lasted.

gasp, then put them on. (To be continued.)

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A Happy Fireside.
DHE Key of Heaven unlocks the Storehouse where the following requisites may be

obtained for a Happy Fireside :-
Righteousness to rule.

Consideration to check.
Faithfulness to serve.

Cheerfulness to obey.
Peace to preside.

Contentment to speak.
Truth to testify.

Liberality to give.
Love to act.

Carefulness to save.
Hospitality to entertain.

Joy to gladden.
Courtesy to welcome.

Sympathy to soothe.
Patience to endure.

Kindness to help, and
Honesty to deal.

Longsuffering to bear and forbear.
Temperance to moderate.

THE AUTHOR OF “ OLD PETER Pious."

The Conärmation Uow.
JESUS, I have promised

Oh ! let me see Thy features,
To serve Thee to the end;

The look that once could mako
Be Thou for ever near me,

So many a trae disciple
My Master and my Friend !

Leave all things for Thy sake :
I shall not fear the battle

The look that beamed on Peter
If Thou art by my side,

When he Thy Name denied ;
Nor wander from the pathway

The look that draws us ever
If Thou wilt be my Guide.

Close to Thy piercèd side.
Oh! let me feel Thee near me,

Oh! Jesus, Thou hast promised
The world is ever near ;

To all who follow Thee,
I see the sights that dazzle,

That where Thou art in glory,
The tempting sounds I hear.

There shall Thy servant be;
My foes are ever near me,

And, Jesus, I have promised
Around me and within ;

To serve Thee to the end;
But, Jesus, draw Thou nearer,

Oh, give me grace to follow
And shield my soul from sin.

My Master and my Friend!
Oh! let me hear Thee speaking

Oh! let me see Thy footmarks,
In accents clear and still,

And in them plant mine own;
Above the storms of passion,

My hope to follow duly
The rnurmurs of self-will:

Is in Thy strength alone.
Oh! speak to re-assure me,

Oh! guide me, call me, draw me,
To hasten or control :

Uphold me to the end,
Oh! speak, and make me listen,

And then in Heaven receive me,
Thou Guardian of

my
soul!

My Saviour and my Friend !

JOHN ERNEST BODE.

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Common Mistakes about Religion. BY TIE REV. GEORGE EVERARD, M.A., AUTHOR OF DAY BY DAY,NOT YOUR OWN," ETC.

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III. “I'M NO SCHOLAR."

'M no Scholar."

But when

you tell me you are no Scholar, I am sorry for it. It's a I cannot help thinking there may be a great loss to you, especially mistake in your mind. You seem to think if you are unable to read

this a reason why you cannot be a true folthe Scriptures. But I trust lower of Christ. Indeed, my friend, it is you make use of all the help not so. Many of the most holy and happy

you can obtain. If you can- Christians that have ever lived have had not read, you can hear the Word of God no more human learning than you have. and store it up in your heart. There was Numbers have lived useful and devoted one of whom I have read, who became a lives, and have borne witness for Christ in true Christian through repeating to her- the world, and yet never had an hour's self the texts she heard in church, and schooling from the day of their birth to thinking over them when alone.

their death.

in

I remember a striking example of this. A friend was speaking the other day of The man was a carrier, and he was exceed- a little girl in a National School. The ingly ignorant of common matters of gene- children were being examined in their ral information. But he was nevertheless knowledge of Scripture, and they were a valiant soldier of the Cross. He served told to write out what they knew about the Lord with all his heart and soul, and Christ. This girl wrote but one short rejoiced in the Saviour as the only hope of sentence, and yet in that she expressed his salvation. He had a wife who often more than all the rest. She wrote," He persecuted and mocked him for his godly is my very own Saviour.” Here was true ways; but he held on his course without knowledge. She might not be so clever, wavering. He taught himself to read as or know so much of many things, as other he travelled from place to place; and the girls in the school; yet in knowing this New Testament, that he always kept in one thing, she knew the secret of true peace his van, had been read again and again. and happiness. He lived and died a Christian, and many Ah! dear friend, I should like you to be followed him to his grave and mourned a good Scholar, a very good Scholar indeed. over his loss.

But I want you to be a Scholar in the No; it is not much learning that makes school of Christ. I want you to sit where any man a Christian, nor the want of it Mary sat, at the Saviour's footstool. I that can shut any man out of the kingdom want you to listen to His life-giving words, of God. On the contrary, how many

there and to hide them in your heart. I want are who know everything almost except you to ask Him for the teaching of His “the one thing needful.” Perhaps they Holy Spirit, that He would lead you into are acquainted with foreign languages, and all the truth, and make you wise in heavenly know a great deal about modern sciences, wisdom. and may even write learned books on one You will find Jesus will prove a patient subject or another; and yet all the time and faithful Teacher. He will not turn they know nothing of God and peace and you away from His school because you holiness, and are walking far away from are slow in learning. He will instruct you the way of life.

as you are able to bear it. He will teach It has been truly remarked, that “To you precious lessons. He will teach you know everything, and not to know Jesus the inestimable value of the soul. He will Christ, is to know nothing." I think it show you how sinful and unworthy you might be said, too, with equal truth, that are. He will make you see how completely “To know nothing, and yet to know Jesus He forgives and cleanses from every stain Christ, is to know everything." Of this I of evil. He will put you in the school of am sure, that the knowledge of Jesus which affliction sometimes, that you may know leads us to trust and love and follow Him more of His love, and of His power to help is worth far more than all other knowledge and comfort you. He will make the Scripbeside. It guides a man in his course tures more plain to you, so that the simplest through life ; it sustains and comforts him promises will fill your heart with joy. in time of sorrow; it gives him a bright “Good and upright is the Lord: thereand cheering hope in the dark valley of fore will He teach sinners in the death ; and leads to a home in glory when meek will He guide in judgment; the meek life is over.

will He teach His way.Ps. xxv. 8, 9.

way. The

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