were met with the smiles of their respective husbands, who were fellow-heirs with them of the grace of life. Their children came running to them, and asked, "Ma, where have you been?" Their juvenile curiosity was soon gratified, and some of them thought, "It was strange that our ma should like to go to such dirty places." At tea-table, they related the incidents of their visits to their husbands, who, listening, felt quite interested.

The rain, during the evening, continued to beat against the windows. This served to bring to mind all the wretchedness and filth which they had that day witnessed, and to remind them of the many, very many, comforts with which they were favoured at home. Indeed, their hearts seemed, during the remainder of the day, touched with gratitude in a peculiar manner. Yes, they felt grateful that they had been permitted to follow the example of Him who went about doing good,-that their visits to their poorer sisters had made them feel the value of their own home comforts, that at home they were not tormented with drunken husbands, but blessed with such as joyed and rejoiced with them, and that if no good resulted from their labours to the objects of their solicitude, they would be amply recom. pensed by the good which had abounded to themselves.

Happy women! may you be blessed, and be made a blessing; and may such abound on every hand. May your labours, both at home and abroad, bring forth much fruit to the praise and glory of God. May the reader, through what we have still to say of you, be gladdened, edified, and induced to follow your example, for the praise and glory of God, and the blessing of their fellow-creatures.

(To be continued.)

AN IMMEDIATE ANSWER. "While they are yet speaking, I will hear."Isaiah lv. 24.

One of the first and strongest proofs of conversion is discovered in an affectionate concern for the spiritual welfare of the ungodly. No sooner is an individual made happy in the hope of his own salvation, than he is found labouring with untiring zeal for the recovery of others. The feéling is spontaneous, and the efforts to which it prompts may be regarded as amongst the first and sweetest fruits of true piety. How

beautifully is this illustrated in the case of the woman of Samaria ! In that same hour that Jesus revealed himself to her as the promised Messiah, we see her hastening from Jacob's well to Sychar, and hear her crying to the inhabitants of that city, "Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did; is not this the Christ?" But if the rejoicing convert be found exhibiting a general interest in the welfare of the impenitent, he will be constrained to manifest a special regard for the salvation of his own kindred. If the woman of Samaria evinced her concern" by calling, indiscriminately, upon all whom she met to come to the Saviour, Andrew's superior devotion discovered itself in searching out his brother Simon, and bringing him, in person, into the immediate presence of Jesus.

Instances illustrative of this interesting feature of christian effort are innumerable, and its results have been most wonderful and cheering. The remembrance of one such instance is cherished by the writer with peculiar pleasure.

During a precious revival of religion that was enjoyed at —, it pleased the Lord, in answer to a mother's prayers, to convert all the children that he had spared to her. They were three in number, two of them being of age, while the third had just entered upon his sixteenth year. Over the salvation of these she was made to rejoice with almost unspeakable joy. But the measure of her desire and faith was not yet full. She had a careless and wicked husband, and that he might be brought to repentance seemed now more than ever desirable.

In the deep solicitude which she had so long felt for his conversion, she was now joined by her children, and their united and individual efforts were most earnestly directed to such means as seemed best adapted to secure the consummation of their hopes. Personal appeals, urged with tears, repeated invitations to the longneglected house of God, the rehearsal of solemn truths heard from the pulpit, and innumerable other devices were successively and repeatedly resorted to, but without the least apparent effect. They were continued, indeed, until it became evident that instead of tendering his feelings, they only served to excite his displeasure, and provoke him to expressions of unkindness and anger.

Under these circumstances, it was deemed prudent to resort to such a course as could not possibly expose them to a repulse, or render obnoxious the subject for which they sought his interest and regards. And having already tried every means that their pious ingenuity could invent, what now remained for them but to cast themselves, in the exercise of faith and prayer, on the mercy and power of God? They did so, and the occasion was both special and memorable.

At the close of a solemn evening's service connected with the interesting series of meetings before alluded to, this pious mother, with her devoted children, tarried in the sanctuary, that they might, without fear of interruption, spend a season in special and earnest prayer for the conversion of the husband and father. How long they prayed is more than we can tell, nor is it important; we only know that they continued to plead with God until fally satisfied that their urgent request had been heard, and, leaving the place, they felt happy in the assured hope of a speedy answer. Nor were they disappointed, as the sequel will show.

The next day was the Sabbath, and beautiful as was its dawn, and refreshing as were its holy privileges, one of its brightest joys awaited its close. That joy began to be felt when Mr. G, unsolicited, and for the first time in a long period of years, proposed to accompany his family to the house of God. To them it was a happy surprise, and instantly their hearts began to glow with the liveliest emotions of gratitude and hope. And well they might, for, believing that it was the work of the Spirit, they knew that, once begun, it would certainly result in the great and glorious change for which they had so earnestly prayed.

Upon entering the sanctuary he was observed to linger behind, that he might thus, if possible, enter unobserved, and Oecupy a seat where he would be most likely to escape notice. Through all the services, but especially during the delivery of the discourse, his attention was most marked and serious; and when, at its close, an opportunity was given to such as were spiritually concerned to make it manifest, what was our astonishment and joy at seeing him the very first to advance! There he was, strong and vigorous in form, but bearing a spirit that was ready

to break with anguish. For ten long years, as he himself afterwards testified, he had not deigned to hear a single sermon; but now, under a simple and plain exhibition of the doctrine of salvation by the Cross, his soul was melted into the deepest contrition, and, in the hearing of hundreds, he was constrained to cry out, “ Oh, my God, have mercy!"

But this state of feeling was not to be ascribed to the instrumentality of the preacher. Oh, no; it had its beginning in influences far more potent, dating with the special prayers of the previous evening. It was in the same hour, while alone at his home, and wholly ignorant of what was passing in the sanctuary, that the Spirit of God awakened within him an accusing conscience, and discovered to his astonished view some of the hidden depths of his depravity. These convictions, however, he had succeeded in concealing until now, when they came upon him like a strong man armed, and he had neither the will nor the power to resist their manifestation. For many days the exercises of his mind were exceedingly distressing, and his grief most poignant. But that which constituted the chief source of his anguish was the remembrance of his wicked neglect of Christ, and his perverse abuse of the Divine goodness. It seemed wonderful to him that God had not long ago cut him down, and made him a monument of his righteous vengeance; but still more wonderful appeared the fact, that his grace and mercy were interposed to arrest his steps, and direct his feet to the way of life. That way he at length found, and finding it, he became, at once, a happy, exemplary, and useful christian.

What encouragement does such an instance afford to persevering intercession! What a striking comment on that Divine promise, "While they are yet speaking, I will hear!"

A SISTER'S TEARS.

A young man a month or two since was on examination for ordination and installation. In relating his christian experience and call to the ministry, the question was put him by the chairman of the examining committee:

"What first led you to see yourself a sinner, and to feel your need of Christ ?"

His simple reply was: "A sister's tears."
He said he had been thoughtless and

wicked, using the name of God profanely, and giving himself up to embrace infidel sentiments. He had a pious sister, and he Would argue with this sister on the claims of the christian religion, the genuineness, authenticity, and inspiration of the Scriptures, and he would argue her down. But the sister would not yield. She was in earnest in seeking the salvation of her brother's soul. So she brought in her minister. But the young would-be infidel disposed of the minister as easily as he did his sister, and came off the field as victor.

At length, on one occasion, he sought an argument with his sister, but she was silent -she had nothing to say. But he only stormed the more. And still she had nothing to say and when he spoke ill of her God, her Saviour, her Bible, her religion, she made no reply, but burst into a flood of tears, and those tears of my sister," said the young minister, "reached my heart and melted it. I then saw myself a sinner, and fled to Christ for help." In relating it, he was affected to tears, as were the congre

gation before whom he was standing. Our own heart, too, was caught in the general sympathy, and ere we were aware, we were removing a tear from our eye. The minister, also, who gave the charge the next day, in alluding to the circumstance, found himself choked in utterance.

So do great

Such are the ways of God. means fail-so do humble means succeed. Tears do that which logic is utterly powerless to do. And what a lesson of encouragement is this, to those who are working for the salvation of the souls of beloved kindred and friends,-parents for children, -children for parents,-husbands for wives, -wives for husbands,-brothers for sisters, -sisters for brothers. All such should labour and pray on, looking to God in strong faith. Jesus wept over sinners, and when we are so in earnest for the souls of our loved ones that we can weep over them, then it may be that they will be won to Christ. "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him."

THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

BY THE REV. H. S. BROWN.*

It is very important to have a distinct perception of the objects for which we ought to strive in this battle of life. Here men often make the most egregious and deplorable mistakes. They fight, and fight bravely; wait, and wait patiently; suffer, and suffer heroically; and, after a long, obstinate, desperate encounter-after years of self-denial, of mental and physical exertion, of great anxiety and great fatiguefind, to their bitter disappointment, that the long-coveted prize is a worthless bauble. "All is not gold that glitters." There is much for which men fight that is not worth fighting for; there is much that men neglect, to strive for which is their highest wisdom, to obtain which is their greatest glory. Let us know, then, what we are to struggle for, that we may "run, not as uncertainly," and fight, "not as one that beateth the air."

Far be it from me to speak contemptuously of that which must always be to the

great majority of men, if not the most important, certainly all but the most important object in fighting the battle of life. There are some, generally termed the favourites of fortune (though I am not so sure that the appellation is correct), who have been born to opulence, and who are not called upon to fight for bread. This is one of life's stern struggles which some one else fought on their behalf; want is one of the enemies-a fierce and formidable enemy -which has been mastered, not by them, but for them. But I take it that you are not all cabin passengers in this voyage of life; I suppose that most of you are men before the mast, that most of you know, by tolerably sharp experience, that you must work. Talk of the battle of life to the people at large, and ask them what it means! Ask the merchant, as he hurries to and from the exchange, the tradesman, behind his counter, the operative, as, at the ringing of the factory bell, he goes to his daily occupation, the labourer, as, at the dawning of the day, he yokes his team to the plough,

--and all these men will tell you that the battle of life is the struggle for existence,the effort, the often desperate effort, the not unfrequently abortive effort, to escape the wretchedness of poverty, to rise to comfort at least, if not to opulence. Yes, this is one great object of life. All day and every day, except the blessed Sunday, a battle is being fought in all our great commercial cities. It surges and it rages through all our thoroughfares, and the prize which all men have in view is money. By fair means and by foul,-by patient, plodding, persevering industry,- by shrewd, wellcalculated, but strictly honourable com. mercial transactions,-by daring strokes of wild and reckless speculation, and, unhappily, by ingenious but frightful fraud, men push, and thrust, and fight their way onward and upward in the world. They must engage in such a combat. It is right, right by all means; a struggle much to be commended and admired, as long as it is honourably maintained, as long as no man goes beyond or defrauds his brother, as long as the victors are not flushed with insolence, nor the vanquished driven to despair. Oh, it is a glorious and heartthrilling sight to see the commerce of a great city, to behold myriads of men thus fighting their life-battle; and, standing at a distance from the scene of conflict, there is something solemn and beyond expression grand in the roar that reverberates for miles around the great field on which some are conquering and others are being conquered. It is grander than the booming of the distant cannonade, it is grander than the voice of the stormy sea. Vulgar enough, in one sense, is the sound; the confused din of hammers, and rollers, and looms, the tramp of horses, and the rattle of wheels; but these sounds are the clashing of the weapons by means of which, it may be, 500,000 men are fighting for existence; and when we consider all that such sounds suggest the activity, the energy, the wisdom, the folly, the hopes, the fears, the success, the unsuccess, the triumph, the desperation of multitudes-we cannot but feel that the artillery of the thunderstorm itself is not more awful than this great battle hurly of humanity in its terrible struggle for bread.

Yes, this battle must be fought, my brothers; go on, and fight it bravely, and may God bless you in your contest. May He "teach your hands to war, and your

fingers to fight;" but do not on any account fall into the very common and very fatal error of supposing that this is your only conflict, and that, this gained, all is gained. That you came into the world to fight for bread is very true; but it is very possible to fight for this, and win it too, and have bread enough and to spare, and yet failmost miserably fail-in the battle of life. That battle is not won because a single enemy is struck down,-because one position is triumphantly stormed and carried. Here is a man who was left an orphan at a very early age. He spent his childhood in penury, ignorance, and neglect, a ragged, unwashed, bareheaded urchin, of thin, pale, melancholy visage, and quick, eager, restless eyes prowling about the streets, picking up rags and bones, ever moved on by the inexorable police. He was employed by some one as an errand-boy, and had to sweep the office, do all the drudgery of the shop, and sleep in the cellar. But he has fought his way steadily, manfully; he has overcome every competitor, risen above those who had far fairer chances of success, put them all to shame, beaten them with heavy odds against himself; and now he is master where he once was the humblest servant; his wealth is very great; he owns houses, shops, warehouses, mills, ships, estates, shares; whatever he touches is turned into gold; men say that he is made of money; and I am asked whether that man has not fought his battle right bravely and right well? Bravely he may have fought it; but before we answer he has fought it well, we must enquire a little. Has this man done nothing else during these thirty or forty years than add penny to penny while an errand-boy, sovereign to sovereign when a clerk, and £1 000 to £1.000 since he became a merchant? Is want the only enemy he has wrestled with; wealth, the only high place on the field that he has taken? This is much, a great and far from inglorious thing to do, if he has done it fairly. But has the man grappled with his ignorance? Of course his knowledge and experience of the business world, or some portion of it, are considerable; faculties of a certain order have been sharpened and kept bright as a bayonet; but still we must ask whether he has become or tried to become a wellinformed man, fit to mingle with the intelligent circles of society; whether he has in any tolerable degree furnished his mind; or is he merely the coarse, vulgar man of

wealth, whose sole idea of the world is that it is a great shop, and for whom literature, science, and art have no charms, excepting in so far as they may be turned to profitable pecuniary account? Then we say to him, "No, you have not fought the battle well; we give you full credit for what you have done; it is what very few of us are likely to do, it is not in us to do it; but you have not proved yourself a champion worthy of all praise." Men will tell you that you have; they will envy you, flatter you, fawn upon you, fall down and worship you, as a certain people once fell down and worshipped a golden calf; they will point you out to their sons as a model for their imitation, they will proclaim you a merchant prince; but to merit this honourable appellation you must have a princely intellect and a princely heart, as well as a princely purse. One great object of life is certainly to make conquests in the domain of knowledge; to master difficulties there, to make good your footing there. To add house to house, and field to field there. This you have not done, this you have never attempted to do; and, therefore, although you are doubtless a very great man, and do bestride the earth like a Colossus, and boast yourself of the multitude of your riches, we cannot congratulate you on the manner in which you have spent your time, we cannot felicitate you on the results of your life-battle, if all that you can show for it is money.

But let us suppose that our successful friend is not only wealthy, but also intelligent, and that, through his determined application and his great talents, he has triumphed over the disadvantages of early neglect, acquired a large store of information, and become as remarkable a man in the world of letters as in the world of merchandise; still I hesitate to admit that he has fought the battle right well until I have enquired further. I must ask, What is the state of his heart? for it is quite possible that this man's victory, like that of Pyrrhus, at the battle of Asculum, may be of a very questionable character: while he has been gaining in one sense, he may have been losing in another; while he has been acquiring gold, he may have been paying a most ruinous price for it. I have a very plain question to put to you, my successful friend,-you, I mean, who are made of money,-Have you become a screw? Now, don't be angry; you will, of course, reply to this question with a very decided nega

tive; for did you ever know a miser who would admit that he was anything worse than prudent, saving, and economical? This, however, is very certain, that the effect of wealth, particularly on him who becomes wealthy by scraping and hoarding, is often very disastrous, in a moral point of view. The man's heart becomes cold, hard, suspicious; he thinks, poor fool, that he has mastered the world,-gross mistake! -the world has mastered him, and he is the slave of every sixpence in his coffers. Every commercial advancement has been a moral retrogression! No, you have not fought the battle well, unless you have preserved and enlarged the generosity of your heart. And let me ask whether, in that hot and dusty struggle, you have maintained your integrity? I do not ask whether you have stood clear of gross acts of fraud, though it is not every prosperous man who does this, and there is many a stately house in the commercial world founded on the most shameful dishonesty; but, without questioning your innocence of such gigantie Scoundrelisms as have of late come to light in divers quarters, let me ask whether you have in all fairness and honour fought your way? Will all your transactions stand the daylight, or have you had recourse to doubtful means in order to secure your ends? Have you never fallen in with that propo. sal which the devil is making all day long to men in business, going his rounds from office to office, and from shop to shop, and saying to every merchant, and to every merchant's clerk,-to every tradesman, and to every tradesman's apprentice, —“ All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me"? I do not ask whether you have prostrated yourself before him in the dust, and abjectly worshipped him as God; but have you never as much as bent one knee to him? There are many men who would be ashamed and afraid to burn incense to Satan by the censer-full, but m. ke no difficulty at all of offering it grain by grain,-a homoeopathic worship of the devil is common enough. But whatever victories men may have achieved at the cost of honour and veracity, these victories are terrible defeats; and no man fights the battle of life well, who does not maintain the strictest integrity, and the most unimpeachable loyalty to truth.

But, even when all this is granted, and it may be said, and must be said, that our successful friend has overcome not penury