tained a number of diamonds, and he asked me how much I thought they were worth. So I began to calculate and reckon in my mind, and made a rough guess, beginning low enough. But he said, "Man, I would not take fifteen times that sum for this little box of gems." That was all I knew of the value of those little jewels. So there are people who undervalue the jewels of heaven, and make light of God's gems; not only reprobates, but professing Christians; and they point the finger of scorn at us, and call us fools and fanatics. But, thank high heaven, though they may point the finger of scorn at us, God says, "They are of much value, for they are mine." Never mind what the world says. God smiles, and his smile is above the world's frown; if God blesses, never mind who curses. The Almighty says we are of much value, for we are his jewels.

I next began to ask my diamond friend about the origin of these jewels, where they were found, and how they were obtained and polished. He told me they were found in rivers and mines, amongst mud and stones; that the negroes and Indians went into the rivers with rakes, with which they raked up the soil, and then washed away the dirt, picking out the little gems, and separating them from all dirt and dross. So it is with the origin and reclamation of sinners, who are saved from the horrible pit and cleansed from the miry clay of sensuality. God puts down his great scraper, pulls us out of the dirt, and takes us to his cleansing fountain. There are gems of different sects and names; some are Protestant, some Catholic; others Independent, Baptist, Calvinists, and Wesleyans. The Lord be praised.

Then there is another thing that is to be done to the gems; they need polishing. I dare say most of you know more about this and other things than I do; but I know that my Saviour is the great Jeweller who has polished me; and He can polish thee. The Lord help you to think about it.

The Indians are very quick at finding these gems, even when travelling. What you would think to be only a little rough stone, and would kick before you as of no value, your Indian guide would pick up and put in his bag. He takes the stone home, breaks it, and finds inside a little gem, a jewel worth many a pound. Its worth could not be seen from the outside. So it is with many a sinner. The poor old drunkard is all encrusted over with the dirt of his slavish habit and the stony shell of his sensuality. Most people think

him a worthless, lost soul; but let the great Artist come and take him in hand, and He will make a new man of him, and polish him, till he become a gem fit for the everlasting diadem. Blessed be God, there is help for all; even the poor besotted drunkard need not despair. Do not tell me that these despised and degraded ones are of little or no account; God's Word tells me that one soul is worth more than all the world. And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels."

A

But there is a great deal of profession in religion as well as in daily life, and there are counterfeit jewels that look very much like the real article, at least to those who don't know the difference. Some jewels are of almost priceless value, and their counterfeits are but bits of glass. The Lord teach you, dear reader, to cry to Him, "Search me and know my heart, try me and know my thoughts, and see what evil way there is in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

WEAVER'S LEAFLETS.

AN IMPORTANT QUESTION.

ONE of the kings of Persia, in a conversation with two philosophers and his vizier, asked, "What situation of man is most to be deplored?" One of the philosophers maintained that it was old age, accompanied with extreme poverty; the other, that it was to have the body oppressed by infirmities, the mind worn out, and the heart broken by a series of heavy misfortunes. "I know a condition more to be pitied," said the vizier, "and it is that of him who has passed through life without having done good, and who, unexpectedly surprised by death, is sent to appear before the tribunal of the Sovereign Judge." Extracted by J. P.

THE WAY TO HEAVEN.
"There is a path which leads to God,

All others go astray;

Narrow but pleasant is the road,

And Christians love the way."

"Ir ever I get to heaven," said a notorious Sabbath breaker and blasphemer, "the Lord must bring down a ladder and take me up there." Such was the language of this depraved character to one of the visitors of the

Christian Instruction Society; and such is the awful indifference of thousands who are living in this land of Gospel privileges.

My reader, perhaps you are expecting to go to heaven when you die-you are trusting to the mercy of God for safety at last-you forget that he is a God of infinite justice as well as "merciful and gracious." Oh, beware that you deceive not yourself. The way to heaven is only through the mediation of the Son of God. You must be interested in his blood and righteousness-you must have the stony heart taken away, and a heart of flesh given you-you must, by Divine grace, set your affections on things above and not on things on the earth. Oh! see to it that you are indeed treading the path to heaven. It is not enough to talk about it, nor merely to believe in it, nor to read about it. There are thousands, nay millions, who suppose they are walking to heaven, while in fact, they are treading with rapid steps the road to perdition. Tremble, lest you should be amongst this unhappy number, and let it be your earnest prayer that you may be enabled to walk, with growing delight, in that narrow path which leadeth unto life.' R. E.

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THE CRUCIFIXION.

WEEPING Mary, bathed in sorrow,
Linger'd near the scene of horror
Where the dying Saviour hung;
From whose bursting heart arising,
Groans of anguish agonizing,

Floated o'er his fever'd tongue!
O what sorrow, deep, unbounded,
That maternal bosom wounded,

Once the Saviour's couch of rest!
How she wept to see him languish,
How she trembled for the anguish

Labouring in his guiltless breast!
Who could witness, without weeping,
Gushing streams of sorrow sweeping
Down the mother's pallid cheek?
Who with bosom unrelenting,
Could behold her thus lamenting
Looking what no tongue could speak ?

While such pangs as fiends invented,
Still her suffering Son tormented,

Scorn and bruises, stripes, and death;
She beheld him thus expiring,

Human friends in fear retiring,
Whilst in groans he spent his breath!
Matchless mercy! love amazing!
Far beyond our feeble praising,
Far above our humble lays;
May its influence never vary,
Till my heart, like that of Mary,
Glow with a seraphic blaze.
Gracious Saviour, now in glory,
Be this sad affecting story,

Deeply on my soul imprest!
May the scene of such affliction,
Bring the hardest heart conviction,
Melt the most obdurate breast!

THE SECRET OF BEING ALWAYS SATISFIED. A CERTAIN Italian bishop was remarkable for his happy and contented disposition. He met with much opposition and encountered many difficulties in his journey through life; but it was observed that he never repined at his condition, or betrayed the least degree of impatience. An intimate friend of his, who highly admired the virtue which he thought it impossible to imitate, one day asked the prelate if he could communicate the secret of being always satisfied. "Yes," replied the good old man; "I can teach you my secret, and with great facility. It consists in nothing more than in making a right use of my eyes. His friend begged him to explain himself. "Most willingly," returned the bishop.

"In whatever state I am, I first of all look up to heaven, and reflect that my principal business here is to get there. I then look down upon the earth, and call to mind that when I am dead, I shall occupy but a small space of it. I then look abroad into the world, and observe what multitudes there are, who in every respect, are less fortunate than myself. Thus I learn where true happiness is placed, where all our cares must end, and how very little reason I have to repine or to complain." Extracted by J. P.

CONSCIENCE.

A YOUNG WOman, who was in service at a large hotel in Yorkshire, observed a traveller drop from his pocket-book a bank note. She picked it up, and consulted with her fellow-servants whether she should return it to the owner.

They

laughed at her scruples, and told her to keep it; which alas she agreed to do.

In the course of time, she was married to a respectable tradesman, and the occurrence of the theft appeared to be forgotten. But after she had been married a few years, she fell into a decline.

In this state she was awakened to a sense of her sins. She became, through grace, a sincere penitent, and was deeply impressed with the value of true religion.

She sometimes felt its comforts, and found that peace of God which passeth all understanding. These happy seasons, however, were only like the early dew; and it was not till after her death that the cause of that gloom and sadness, which so often sat upon her dying countenance, and disquieted her spirit, was found out.

To a friend she had related the cause, in an agony of grief. It was the having taken the bank note which she found on the floor. She would willingly have given fifty times its value to have discovered the traveller, that it might be restored. But in vain : he was wholly unknown; and therefore restitution was impossible.

Children, may you learn the value of an honest principle! Oh, tremble lest you be tempted for a little paltry gain, to turn conscience into an enemy, to vex and harass you both living and dying! You may see money lying about, and drawers left open, and many opportunities to pilfer; but remember that God's eye is upon you, and “be sure your sins will find you out" in one way or another.

THE BEST FRIEND.

"WHAT do you do without a mother to tell all your troubles to?" said a child who had a mother, to one whose mother was dead.

"Mother told me whom to go to before she died," answered the little orphan. "I go to the Lord Jesus; He was mother's friend, and He is mine."

The other replied, “Jesus Christ is up in the sky; He is a way off, and has a great many things to attend to in heaven. It is not likely He can stop to mind you."

"I do not know about that," said the orphan, "All I know is, He says He will, and that is enough for me."