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being puzzled; why, my lad, you have everything seemed ? Father, mother, taken the wrong turning.

brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, I soon set off back again, blaming my

and friends, all looked green. The sky was yself for not having paid more attention to green, and the birds were green, and the the directions of my father. I found no room you stood in was green, and everyfurther difficulty in my way to Farmer thing about you was of the same colour. Gilbert's, and having done my errand, I Now what was the matter ? returned home, heartily repenting the all really turned green? Oh, no! You error I had committed in taking the were looking through green glasses—that wrong turning.

was all ; and when you took the spectacles No sooner did my father see me than he off there was nothing that seemed green began thus: “Why, Robert, where have but trees and grass. I think that the great you been ? You have been long enough to

trouble with most of these folks who are do the errand twice over ; what a pickle

never satisfied is, that they wear green your shoes and stockings are in; and the spectacles. What I mean by that is, that skirt of your jacket is almost off! What there is such an evil disposition in their have you been about ?”

hearts they cannot see things as they I then told my father the whole of my mis- ought to be seen. They think that all haps, just as they had occurred to me; how they see is different from what it really is. the gate had flung me into the mire; how Hence they are constantly complaining, the dog had attacked me; and how I tore my

and grumbling, and changing their places jacket, ent my finger, and lost my pocket- and their plans. knife; and I acknowledged that all these I do not know of any living creature that things had been brought about by my is like them excepting themselves. The foolishly taking the wrong turning.

little birds that hop about the trees, or “Ah, my lad !" said my father, “you pick up the worms upon the ground, are are not the first, by a great many, who all the time moving and changing; but have smarted by neglecting their father's they are very happy. Who ever heard of directions, and by taking the wrong

a bird grumbling? The precious little turning."

creatures hop because they are happy, and All of us who live in the world have an sing for joy--their throats swelling and errand to perform, and have to find our throbbing as the music gushes out. I hear way to heaven. The path of duty is the them now, while I am writing about them. road along which we go ; and the Bible I wish I could write their music. contains the instructions of our heavenly Do you suppose the birds are unhappy Father, giving us the plainest directions, because they are not something else-a that we may not be pained and perplexed borse or an ox, for instance ? Or do you by losing our road. Those who attend to think a small bird is jealous of a large one ? these directions find their way easily ; but

Does the wren wish himself a raven, or those who'neglect them get into a thousand the robin sigh because he is not a rooster ? troubles. When travelling heavenward I don't believe a word of it. They are all it is a terrible thing to take a wrong as happy as they can be each in his own turning!

place.

But children are sometimes disconTHE DISCONTENTED BOY.

tented, wishing themselves to be better off

than they are, when in reality they are FOR THE YOUNG.

better off than many others. THERE are some people in the world who Harry Baker was one of this sort. He are never satisfied. Put them where you lived in a large city, and though his parents will, they are sure to find some cause of were not rich, neither were they poor. complaint. They imagine that everything They dwelt in a comfortable house, and goes wrong, when the truth is that the Harry had plenty to eat and to wear, wrong is in their own hearts. When one good books to study and to read, and a is determined not to be pleased, it is hard good bed to sleep on. He ought to have to make him feel satisfied. If there is been a very happy boy, but he was not, nothing around him that ought to make He was constantly complaining about his him unhappy, he thinks there is, and that food, or his clothes, or something else. He amounts to the same thing with him. knew many other boys who were better off Did you ever put on a pair of green spec- than himself, and he thought it was hard tacles ? Don't you remember how green that he could not live in as fine a house as

they, or eat as rich food, or wear as fine clothes.

Poor boy! He had yet to learn that happiness is to be found in something else than houses, or food, or clothes. He knew nothing about suffering. He was never hungry in his life without having enough to eat to satisfy his hunger. Nor was he ever cold for want of clothes, or fire, or house. He did not know what it was to want.

Had he known how some other people lived, or tried to live, I think he would have been more contented. There were hundreds, yes, and thousands too, in the city where he lived, that would gladly have taken one-half of the comforts he enjoyed, if they could have obtained them. But Harry never thought of that.

His father had often tried to cure him of this foolish habit of complaining, but found it a very hard task. Harry always had something to say about such and such a one, who lived in such a house and had so many nice things that he could not have.

Now don't you think he was a very foolish boy, and very wicked too? He never thanked God, the great Giver of all good, for the many blessings He had given him, but rather complained because there were others He had not given him.

His father one day thought it might do the boy good to see how some of the poor people in the world live.

Only that very day Harry had been complaining as usual. This time it was about bis skates. It was not that while other boys had skates he had none, but Joseph Simpsou had a pair of skates that cost ten shillings, while his only cost five; and Joseph's were really no better than his. True, they were a new style, and had pretty mountings, and looked very fineas indeed they ought for that money-but they would not glide over the ice any faster than Harry's, and would not last any longer.

But Harry did not see why he could not have as good a pair of skates as Joseph ; he wished his father was as rich as Mr. Simpson; it was too bad that he could not have things like other folks; and thus he talked and complained more like a great baby than a noble, manly-hearted boy.

Mr. Baker was tired of it, so he said, “Harry, would you like to take a walk this afternoon ?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry. “Where are you going?”

“No matter about that,” replied his father. “ I want you to go with me. I have something to show you.

Harry knew it was useless to ask further about it. He, therefore, got ready as soon as he could, and they started on their walk,

It was a very cold day. The sky was clear, and the wind fresh, and the pavements slippery with ice. But Harry was warmly dressed, and did not feel the cold. He had on a comfortable overcoat, good enough for any boy to wear. Harry would have thought it good enough for him, if he had never seen a more costly one. But Willie Waters, one of his schoolmates, had one that was trimmed with fur, while Harry's was not. That made him dissatis. fied with his plain coat, as he and his father passed Willie not long after they left home.

However, he did not freeze, though he had no fur trimmings to his coat.

On they went, crossing street after street, turning down broad avenues and going through narrow alleys, until Harry wondered where his father would lead him. He noticed, too, that the houses were all mean looking -even the new ones looked dirty, while the old ones looked as if they were about to tumble down into the street.

Presently they met a plain-dressed, kindlooking man, to whom Mr. Baker instantly spoke.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sloan. I thought I should meet you somewhere around this part of the town. You are about your usual work, I see.”

yes !” said Mr. Sloan, “and I find enough of it to do. It's enough to make one's heart ache, Mr. Baker, to see the misery there is in this place. I often think if some of those people who are constantly complaining could only see one-half the wretchedness I see, they would for ever after be contented with their lot.”

Harry's quick ear heard all this, and he wondered what it meant. Who was Mr. Sloan ? And did he know that Harry was always complaining?

I can answer those questions, though Harry could not. Mr. Sloan was a gen. tleman whose time was altogether taken up in visiting among the poor and the afflicted. He was what is called a city mis. sionary, and a very good and useful man

he was.

Mr. Baker readily consented to go with him to a few of the families he had to visit that afternoon, for it was for this very purpose he had brought Harry along.

The first house they entered was a large four-story building, and very dirty looking. There were four separate doors, and is many staircases. On

each side of each hall was a door opening into a little room, with a still smaller room behind it.

These two little rooms were meant for one family, and as Harry saw there were four entrances to the house, with two of these doors to each hall, he soon reckoned that there were eiglet families to each story of the house. Then, as he noticed the four stories of the building, he saw that there must be thirty-two families in that one house.

And so it was. How they all lived there I cannot tell; and only God knows how much of misery, and wretchedness, and suffering, was endured by the poor inmates o this « tenement house."

The people here all krew Mr. Sloan, and seemed glad to see him, especially the children, who crowded around him as he went from room to rooin. Harry kept his eyes wide

open, wondering all the time how people could live in such a place. In one room lay a poor man, who only the day before had been brought home with a broken leg. He was a hod-carrier, and had fallen from the upper story of a new building as he was coming down the ladder with his empty hod. Mr. Sloan spoke a few kind words to him, and to his wife and children, and passed on.

Ini almost every room they visited they found some one in trouble. One family was crying over a dead child, that looked as though it might have been starved to death. The poor mother was a widow, and had not money enough to buy a coffin for her dead babe. This she told to Mr. Sloan, who promised her that her wants should be attended to.

When they got into the hall, while the missionary was going up-stairs to the floor above, Mr. Baker took Harry aside and said to him : " Harry, would you like to change your skates ?" You have not used them yet, and Mr. Harden, I have no doubt, will take them back if you want a

Poor Harry had his heart so full, at sight of the misery he saw, that he had quite forgotten skates and everything else.

“Here," said his father, taking out his purse, are ten shillings. You can take your skates to Mr. Harden, and with this you can then buy a pair like Joseph

Harry suid nothing, but he hung his head as the tears came to his eyes. He thought of that dead baby and no coffin for it. His father saw it all, and it wos just what he wanted to see. He said to him,

“ Perhaps you would like to do something else with the money. If so, you may have it, provided it is for a good purpose."

“Iather,” said Harry, “how does Mr. Sloan get the money for these poor people ?"

“It is given to him," said his father, " by kind people who want to do good with their money."

“May I give him this money, to buy a coffin for that child ?"

“ You may, if you wish,” his father replied.

So they hastened up-stairs to the fourth story, where they found the missionary surrounded by a group of frowzy-headed folks—as queer looking a set of people as could be found this side of the Hottentot country.

There was no carpet on the floor, unless a thick covering of dirt could be called a carpet. There were no chairs, no table, no bed. On the hearth were a few smoking chips, and around this feeble fire the father, mother, and six children sat on the bare floor. They were a wild, savage, hungry-looking set, only half-clad, and shivering with cold.

The good missionary took Mr. Baker and ; his son to other places, and showed them other families. Wherever they went they found poverty, hunger, and suffering. To tell all they saw would fill a small book.

Poor Harry, with all his bad habits, was not a hard-hearted boy; he was only a little thoughtless, and now he had something to make him thoughtfül. His heart was very sad indeed at sight of so much sorrow, and it needed not any one . to tell him how foolish and wicked he had been in showing such a discontented spirit. When, at last,

the sun

went down reminding them that the short day was about closing, they bade good-bye to the kind missionary, and started for home. But before leaving, Harry said to Mr.Sloan,

“Will you please, sir, take that, and buy a coffin for the child of that poor woman ?"

As he said this, he gave him the ten. shilliygs.

better pair."

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Simpson's."

Mr. Sloan took it and thanked Harry, promising him that he would see to it. They then separated.

All the way home Harry talked to his father about what he had seen. When hey neared the street in which they ived, Joseph Simpson passed them on his way to the ice-pond, to try his new skates. They were slung over his shoulders, and really looked very pretty.

But Harry no longer envied him their possession. He thought of the dead child, and his heart felt light when he remem. bered that he had given the means to bury it.

From that day Harry was cured of his discontented spirit. He found that he was so much better off than many others, that he ought to be thankfnl instead of complaining.

Gems from Golden Mines.

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NOT EASILY PROVOKED. How hard it is for even the Christian heart to learn to practise that charity “ which beareth all things” and is not

easily provoked.” How quickly our tempers flash out in resentment towards those who have spoken evil of us or done us some wickedness. We seek to justify our sinful spirit, and increase the evil by talking it over with others, by brooding over it when in solitude, until a mole-hill is magnified into a mountain. We pass by on the other side if we are likely to meet the offender, and by our coldness and resentful manner, show that we desire no further acquaintance with him. We are by no means careful to hide any faults or foibles of his that may be known to us, and are very apt to secretly rejoice when he falleth. Ah, such is not the Spirit of Christ, who,“ when He was reviled, reviled not again,” who walked in meekness all along the way which Ais bitter persecutors had made so full of thorns. It is not the spirit which has marked the lives of those who have folloved most closely in the Master's footsteps.

“ There are some persons," wrote a good man in his journal, “ who had never had a place in my prayers but for the injuries they had done me.”

So noted was the martyr Cranmer for always rendering good for evil, that it used to be said of him, “ If you wish him to do you a good turn, you have only to do him an evil one."

It will be a great check to this sinful resentment, which is so apt to rise in our hearts, if we will learn to pray for them

that despitefully use us, and persecute us. Earnest humtle prayer and an angry spirit cannot dwell in the same bosom ; neither can we hate those for whom we sincerely pray. So here we may find a sure and safe direction that will apply to every provocation. If, instead of conquering, we cherish this bitter feeling, we shut ourselves out from our Father which is in heaven. “If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your heavenly Father forgive you."

Says an earnest writer, “He that refuses to forgive an injury, breaks the bridge he will one day want to cross over himself."

The more we breathe the atmosphere of heaven, the easier it will be to keep the spirit serene and even joyful, even in the midst of great provocations ; the easier it will be to love an enemy, and do him good whenever it is in our power.

M

who

WORKING CHRISTIANS. LEARN to be working Christians. "Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.” It is very striking to see the usefulness of many Christians. Are there none of you know what it is to be selfish in your Christianity ? You have seen a selfish child go into a secret place to enjoy some delicious morsel undisturbed by his com panions. So it is with some Christians. They feed upon Christ and forgiveness ; but it is alone, and all for themselves. Are there not some of you who can enjoy being a Christian while your dearest friend is not, and yet you will

not speak to him? See, here you have got work to do. When Christ found you, He said: “Go work in my vineyard !" What were you hired for, if it was not to

spread salvation ? What blessed for ? i Oh! my Christian friends, how little you

live as though you were the servants of Christ! How much idle time and talk you have! This is not like a good servant. How many things you have to do for yourself; how few for Christ and His people! This is not like a servant.--M Cheyne,

Our Missions,

last year.

THE GENERAL BAPTIST MIS

SIONARY SOCIETY. It is now many years since our General Baptist brethren entered on the missionary work. Under the advice of Dr. Carey and his colleagues, they selected as their field

of labour the recently conquered country B of Orissa, where already had laboured

John Peters, one of the earliest of the Serampore converts. The way had also been prepared by the translation of a portion of the Scriptures in the Orissa Ianguage by Dr. Carey. Orissa lies to the south-west of Calcutta; it is inhabited in the plains by a people who are true Hindoos, and fanatically attached to their idolatrous superstitions.

The hills are thinly occupied by an aboriginal race known as the Khonds, speaking a totally different language. Among the Khonds human sacrifices prevailed, until stopped a few years ago by the English Government.

The missionaries engaged are eight in number, assisted by sixteen native brethren. They occupy ten stations, and the five churches which have been formed contain 394 members. Eight chapels have been built

, and the native Christian community embraces nearly seven hundred individuals.

The first station formed was at Cuttack, in 1822, and here we find the largest church. It contains two hundred native converts. Connected with this station is Pooree, famous for its temple of Juggernath, whose black pagoda is the first heathen temple usually seen by voyagers up the Bay of Bengal

. Ten persons were baptized during the last year. One of these was the son of the aged preacher, Gunga Dhor. Gunga Dhor was among the first converts, and has borne for many years an irreproachable character. His services as a preacher of the Gospel have been remarkable, and greatly blessed. His son, on applying for

church fellowship, thus expressed him. self :-“ Words are too poor to express contrition for such sins as mine. Their very remembrance strikes a chord in my heart which echoes to the groanings and wailings of despair. Oh! fain would I forget them all-bring them together with my poor broken heart, and lay them at the feet of Jesus, as they were wont of yore to bring their sick unto Him, and entreat Him to make me whole, to forgive and forget all my past iniquities, and give me strength to watch and pray that I may not fall into the snares of the devil again.”

Among the converts some have been called into their heavenly rest during the

One was the first native Christian married in Orissa, a marriage that took place thirty-one years ago. Another was a youth who had been rescued from sacrifice among the Khonds. He had been placed in the school in 1844, and was baptized at the age of sixteen. His subsequent life was worthy of his divine calling. “We did not know," say the missionaries, “how dear the Saviour was to him till eternity was near. No cloud darkened his sky, and the hope in Christ he expressed in his last affliction was peculiarly pleasing. The anxiety he expressed for the advancement of the kingdom of Christ when one of the brethren was leaving on a missionary tour was deeply affecting. The evening before his death he referred with much feeling to the sins of his youth -sins, all of which he could not then in his weak state fully remember, but which the Lord knew, and which he prayed might be all forgiven. The blood of Christ was his only hope. He felt that the Lord had prepared for him a kingdom. This was at sunset; and before the morning light had gilded with its brightness the eastern sky, he had entered that kingdom. In the case

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