In this room sat a woman, in whose face lay the history of days made up of toil and sorrow. There were no lines of beauty in her bent figure and rugged features; and her hands, which plied her needle with feverish energy, were mishapen and bony. On the rough floor children were at play, but there was none of the roundness and grace of childhood in their angular limbs, and their voices were dry and harsh.

How striking, again, thought I is the contrast between nature and human life; how full of beauty and joy is the one; how repulsive and sad the other.

But,

while I thought, the woman's lips moved,

and she sang in a feeble voice

"The Lord my Shepherd is;

I shall be well supplied,

Since He is mine, and I am His

What can I want beside ?"

"Mother, why do you work so long? It is getting dark, and we want our supper," said a child's voice beside her.

"I must make haste to finish this work, and then I shall be paid, and can buy you some food."

As she answered thus, there was a gentle tap at the door, and an old woman, tottering and bent with age, entered the room.

Why, Goody!" exclaimed the younger woman, "so you have managed to get up the stairs; how are you to-night?"

"Better, thank God, much better; and here," said she, opening her apron, "are some bits for the children. I got 'em given me; but old folks, that are nought but skin and bones, can do without 'em better than the young children, that are full of life."

The children crowded eagerly around the old woman, as, with trembling fingers, she dealt out to them their evening meal. The tears fell from the mother's eyes, as she bent over her work at the window. For herself she could not have touched a morsel of the old woman's

food; but, for her children, she knew not how to refuse it. At length she said, "I am going to take this work home presently; and then, as I come back, I shall buy a little tea, and come into your room, and make you a cup."

No, no," replied the old woman, "keep your money for yourself, my dear, and your children; I want for nothing. Please God, I shall soon be where they hunger no more, nor thirst any more.

Then I saw that the differences between nature and human life are far deeper, and wider, than those that merely strike the eye. We rightly speak of "nature's holy calm;" but here is patience, that diviner virtue, which can only exist in connection with suffering. Deep is the peace of nature's harmonies; but here is what is more sublime" the good fight of faith"-" the victory which overcometh the world." And here, above all, is love and heavenly pity, stronger than nature's instincts, and shining forth

amid all that tends to harden the heart. Beautiful indeed is this green earth, with its mighty hills lifting their summits to the heavens, its wooded valleys, and diversities of lakes, and streams, and floods, appearing to our inexperienced eyes as the very gate of heaven; yet, who can tell but that the angels, dwelling in the midst of far exceeding glories, regard them not, but turn with wondering gaze, and give God glory for the beauty that shines in the dark places of human life; for good, springing up in the midst of evil, faith trusting in darkness, love conquering all obstacles, and patience bearing all things for His sake, these are, perhaps, sights to be seen only on this earth; and they call forth, we may well believe, the songs of the choirs of heaven.

JULY.

WE WILL NOT FEAR, THOUGH THE EARTH BE

REMOVED."

THE deep blue summer sea gently rose and fell among the jagged rocks, filling their crevices with white foam, and leaving each little rising peak wet and sparkling in the sunlight, as if it had been a polished crystal. Higher up the orangecoloured cliffs shone in gorgeous contrast against the azure sky, while, down their sides, the brilliant orange was softened by the purple of the heather, and the vivid green of the waving ferns, which filled every little nook almost to the water's edge. Far away to the left, lay a quiet island, whose white shores, covered with a faint purple haze, seemed to realize a dream of fairy-land, or to suggest the thought of that "happy land far, far away "-the desired haven of the weary voyagers tossing on life's troubled sea.