in the Museum. A very remarkable instance, the Reporter thought, of how much one may do, by patient perseverance, in overcoming difficulties. Early next morning the Reporter and his friends bade good-bye to old Antwerp, and in a very short time they were flying along the rails on their way to Holland. Very pleased were they at seeing this interesting town, and very thankful too that they were not born there. For, after all, cathedrals, and churches, and crosses, and paintings, and images, can do very little for the soul. They cannot teach one how to live or how to die. "None but Jesus, none but Jesus, Can do helpless sinners good." Here the Reporter must stop for the present. Next month he will finish his holiday notes by giving some account of what he saw and did in Holland. The more he thinks of the Popish images of Antwerp, of which he has spoken, the more he loves dear Old England, with her schools, and Bibles, and teachers; and the more does he feel that the hymn referred to last month expresses the feelings of his heart, where it says,— "I was not born as thousands are, "My God, I thank thee, who hast plann'd And placed me in this happy land, MY WANTS. I WANT to feed on Jesus' word, I want salvation full and free, I want to hear his heavenly voice, I want him as my guide and friend, I want him as my daily bread, I want his smiles, his looks of grace, NEARLY HOME. A "ALMOST well, and nearly at home," said the dying Baxter, when asked by a friend how he was. martyr, when approaching the stake, being questioned as to how he felt, answered, "Never better; for now I know I am almost at home." Then, looking over the meadows between him and the place where he was to be immediately burned, he said, "Only two more stiles to get over, and then I am at my Father's house." "Dying," said the Rev. S. Medley, "is a sweet work, sweet work; home! home!" Another on his death-bed said, "I am going home as fast as I can, and I bless God that I have a good home to go to.” BE KIND. KIND words, looks, and acts are the small currency of social life, each of considerable value, but in the aggregate forming the wealth of society. They are the "excellent oil" which keeps the machinery from rusting, wearing, or cracking. They are the dew that refreshes and nourishes the otherwise arid fields. They are the sunshine of an else murky, dreary world. |