glorious promise of "an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away," a more fervent love for the Saviour was kindled in her own soul, so true is it that "he that watereth shall be watered also himself."

And here, in the heart of this lowly, simple-minded Sunday school teacher, was the "good ground" in which the word takes root and brings forth fruit. Not good in itself, but renewed by the Holy Spirit, and prepared to receive the seed, and kept watchful and prayerful by the power of heavenly grace. Reader, are you an habitual frequenter of the house of God? Then to one of these classes you must belong. Think over the parable, so full of meaning and instruction, and pray that an enlightened conscience may guide you to understand the lesson which it conveys.

A PEEP THROUGH A CHURCH WINDOW. THOMAS GIBSON was the forester on a large estate, situated partly in a lovely and fertile valley, and partly on the face of a gently rising line of hills, from the summit of which a most extensive and commanding view was enjoyed. Through the centre of the strath ran abroad and majestic river, which not only furnished ample sport to the fishermen during the trouting season, but greatly enhanced the beauty of the prospect. The cottage which Thomas occupied was situated on a natural terrace near the summit of a wooded eminence. It was a comfortable, and, compared with similar houses in some parts of the country, a commodious dwelling. Its internal neatness and tidiness were the admiration of the country side; good furniture with a bright polish, and everything arranged with scrupulous care, made the forester's house one of the most attractive on the estate. To the thrifty and industrious habits of his wife Thomas owed the inward excellence of his home, where he was always sure of a comfortable repast and a loving welcome when the day's toils were over. Mary Gibson had been a servant in the house of the proprietor of those broad acres and noble woods. The same good qualities which had marked her as a domestic, characterized her when she had a house of her own. An outwardly more comfortable and well-to-do couple did not exist throughout the bounds of their parish.

At right angles to their cottage was a neatly thatched

building, at one end of which was sheltered their cow, for whose pasturage a good large acre was set apart in the immediate vicinity, while a hen-house and a piggery occupied the remainder. A considerable garden, enclosed with a neatly trimmed hedge of beech and privet, kept them supplied with an ample profusion of fruits and vegetables, while the part allotted to flowers sent forth every summer not a few contributions to the " Village Gardener's Show," which took place every successive summer. For seven years Thomas Gibson and his wife had occupied their present abode; he was universally esteemed for his obliging disposition, and much trusted by his master as a most industrious and skilful servant; she as great a favourite with her friends as her husband, regarded as a model to all working men's wives, and often quoted as a pattern of what one in her position should be. Prosperity seemed to encircle them in their happy home; and, to the eye of a mere casual observer, nought seemed wanting to minister to their comfort.

But of each of them, alas; it had to be said, "Yet lackest thou one thing." With all their temporal fulness they were spiritually poor. They were without God. They paid external respect indeed to the sabbath, by regular attendance in the village church, not even pleading their three miles distance from it as an excuse for absence in wet weather. But though they sat there as God's people sit, and could even join the band of critics on the preacher, which congregated in the churchyard on the dismissal of the congregation, they were experimentally strangers to the great and saving truth of the gospel. When accordingly they returned home after divine service, their time was generally occupied in training up some of their garden flowers, or rambling through the wooded summits which rose above that on which their cottage was erected, or paying visits some of their friends in the adjoining district of country.

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Long continued and faithful amid manifold trials and discouragements had been the labours of Mr. Thomson, the minister of the congregation where the Gibsons worshipped. God had given him grace to be "yet pursuing,' though often "faint," because of the small fruit apparent as the result of many years gospel ministry. Many a time had he mourned in secret, that he had run and

laboured in vain. The Lord often thus proves the faith and constancy of his servants. Yet when he makes bare his arm for the deliverance of souls, not all the powers of earth and hell can resist his working. Gradually light broke through the surrounding gloom; symptoms of deepened interest in divine things were visible in the parish. The weekly prayer-meeting was better attended. Some were seen there who had never been known to be present on such occasions. On sabbaths there seemed to be a more than usual stillness and solemnity as the unsearchable riches of Christ were opened up. The door bell of the manse was occasionally rung by parties who wished a word with their minister, and who, on being shown into his study, had to tell how some remark in the previous sabbath's sermon had come home. to them with power. Weeks rolled away. The pastor's heart was gladdened amid these first fruits of a spiritual harvest. A silent, but sure work of the Spirit seemed to be advancing. By-andbye the numbers of the anxious increased, and in order to meet the growing thirst after the things of the kingdom, meetings for religious instruction and prayer were held in the church three times a week. It had formerly been a difficult matter to keep up the semblance of a meeting in the schoolroom once a week, but now the church alone could accommodate the numbers who flocked to the village from the adjoining hamlets, with the all important question on their lips, "What must we do to be saved ?"

Among those who felt the inward working of the Divine Spirit on this occasion, the forester's wife was one of the first. Arrested one sabbath afternoon under a solemn sermon from the words addressed by the shipmaster to Jonah of old, "What meanest thou, O sleeper?" her carnal security was completely broken up. Formerly her language had been that of Laodicea of old, "I am rich and increased in goods, and stand in need of nothing;" but now she saw herself as in God's sight, "poor and miserable, blind and naked." No beauty in the "Rose of Sharon had she ever before discerned; but now, realizing her need of one to come between her and an angry God, she welcomed the announcement of Him who is revealed as "wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption" to all who look to him in faith.

She gladly hailed the additional meetings held by Mr. Thomson and other ministers who came to his help at this

season. Why she went to them she mentioned to her husband, who was of course aware of the movement which had taken place, but who had treated it with ridicule and opposition, as a mere outburst of feverish fanaticism.

"Well," said Thomas one night to himself, "I shall, at all events, go down and meet my wife on her way from this meeting for which she seems to have such an affection, and give her the benefit of my company home."

It was a fine summer evening. The rays of the setting sun were striking on the river as it rolled on to the ocean; and the valley presented an aspect of unwonted quiet. As he approached the village, close to which the house of God was erected, Thomas began to long for the appearance of his wife, A feeling of pride made him unwilling to be seen near the church after all he had said against the work going on there.

"Later than usual," he repeated to himself again and again, as he paced back and forward on the road. At length losing patience, and being unwilling to return alone, he resolved to go boldly to the church, and see for himself what was going on there. He met several parties lingering in the neighbourhood; but in none of these did he recognise Mary. Lost in wonder at what could detain her so long, he at last made his way to the very churchdoor. He could not summon courage, however, to enter it; but, stealing round to one of the side walls, he contrived, by aid of a large stone, to raise himself up so as to get a peep through one of the windows. The sight which he then and there beheld was the means of his hard heart being broken. He heard no sound; but he saw what melted him-his wife on her knees, in earnest prayer, while the big tears were coursing down her cheeks. It was but a momentary glance; but it was enough. That moment the arrow of Divine conviction pierced his soul. The day of his awakening had arrived.

"Why is Mary in such a state of concern, and I so indifferent ?" was the question he put to himself, and which for hours continued to ring in his ears. Hurrying from the churchyard, he betook himself as quickly as he could to a bye-road by which he thought his wife was sure to return home. Here he walked slowly onwards, in expectation of being overtaken by her. But she, unaware of the look which one, for whose soul's salvation she was yearning

so earnestly, had taken through the window of the house of God, and of the new thoughts within his breast to which that look had given rise, had gone homeward that evening by another route, so that the stricken man was left entirely to his own meditations till he reached his cottage door. Here Mary met him with her wonted happy countenance. But what is this she sees? Her tall, strong husband weeping like a child.

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Why these tears?" is her tender question. But to this he can only answer by a more abundant flow of them. He was in distress too great for finding utterance. Entering his neat parlour, where a comfortable supper was awaiting him, he could not eat; and at length betook himself to the adjoining wood. Here he paced up and down for an hour, his strong frame deeply agitated by the depth of his internal emotions. His wife, who had that very evening been wrestling in prayer, not only for herself, but for him, and who, rejoicing in the truth that with God all things are possible, was now hoping that an answer to her cry was given, at length joined him. For some time, however, he was unable to narrate his visit to the church, and what had come of his peep through its window. At length he was able to break silence; and then he found the comfort of having one at hand who, having herself found the Great Physician, was able to point him in his depths to Him who alone could heal the wounds which his own hand had inflicted. Long and anxiously did he tremble lest in this he had committed a sin too great to be forgiven; nor was it till the selfsame Spirit who had guided him to take that memorable look into the church, took of the things of Christ and showed them to him, that he was enabled to feel that his being the very chief of sinners was his very warrant for fleeing to Christ. The instrumentality employed in conducting him to this blessed frame of mind, was a sermon from the words of Paul, Rom. viii. 34, "Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us."

After Thomas Gibson and his wife had undergone this happy change in their souls, the outside of their cottage showed the same beauty. The garden was kept as neatly as before. The forester's work in the woods was not less diligently performed: within his abode the former neatness and cleanliness were not now wanting. But there