as he was to take part in the missionary meeting he should like to run over her magazine a moment. "I've stopped it," she said, 66 Stopped it!" he ejaculated blankly; "why, wife, what made you do that?" "Because you said we must cut down expenses," she answered, her voice trembling; "and besides," she added gently, "you have said two or three successive years, when subscription price was due, that it seemed a useless expense." "Very true, so I have," assented Mr. Willis, " and I believe we can very well do without it, at least better than we can afford to pay for it year after year." So Mr. Willis departed for the missionary meeting without the useful hints with which the religious magazine might have furnished him, had he been able to afford it. On Saturday morning a neighbour ran hastily in, asking Mrs. Willis if she would allow her to see her magazine for a moment. "I heard," she said, "there was another advertisement of those useful recipes such as you allowed me to copy once, and I knew you would spare it a few moments." "I've stopped my magazine," faltered poor Mrs. Willis. "Stopped it! Oh! well, never mind," and the neighbour departed rather confused. "What made you tell her you'd stopped it!" asked Mr. Willis, who was just leaving for his business when the neighbour appeared. 'I'm a little ashamed to have it known that we, a Christian family, take no religious magazine." "I'm not half as ashamed of it as I am regretful," his wife answered gently. Saturday night found the week's work nicely done, the children had taken the usual bath, and now gathered about their mother, lesson papers in hand. "Come, mother," said Jamie, "Jenny and I are ready for our Sunday-school lesson. Where's the magazine? I'll get it." "We have not one to-night, Jamie," Mrs. Willis answered cheerfully; "so we'll try to get along without its help." "Why, where is it?" persisted Jamie. "We could not afford it this year, my son," spoke Mr. Willis. "You can learn your lesson just as well without it." "Oh, dear me!" piped up Jennie. "What shall we do without it? I don't see what you stopped it for; I say it's real mean." "You shouldn't say things are real mean which can't be helped," remarked Mr. Willis. "Ma and I know best about such things." And Jennie was silenced, but by no means convinced. "And there's the poetry, the news, and the anecdotes mother always read to us after the Sunday-school lesson was learned," wailed Jamie. "What shall we do without them?" "Come, come!" exclaimed Mr. Willis, impatiently; "don't let me hear any more about that magazine; make the best of a necessity. We can't afford it, that's enough. I am surprised it makes such a fuss all around." No more was said that night. The next morning, which was Sunday morning, just as Mr. and Mrs. Willis were starting for worship, a man so lame that he walked laboriously, and only crept painfully along, was seen coming up to the door. "Ah, here comes poor old Edson," said Mr. Willis; "what could he have come all this distance for? Good morning, Mr. Edson, how is your wife this morning?" "Better, sir, thank you, considerably better; she is sitting up to-day, and I came over, seeing she was feeling so smart, to see if you'd kindly lend me your magazine; wife said 'twould be as good as a cordial any day to hear me read some of those nice articles." Mr. Willis hastened nervously to forestall his wife's forthcoming declaration. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Edson, very sorry, but our magazine didn't come this month. I'll find an old copy for you, and next month I'll send over one of the children with this month's issue, if possible." Nothing more was said on the subject until the family were seated at their ample dinner; then Jenny asked a little timidly: "Pa, are you going to take mamma's paper again ?” 66 Yes, Jennie, I am; and I am going to black my own boots hereafter to help pay for it." The children were very quiet for a moment; then Jenny asked thoughtfully: "And wouldn't it help if we didn't have raisins in the puddings? I'd a great deal rather have one nice story and a pretty lesson every week, than to have plums in our puddings." "Yes, Jennie, that would help," replied the mother; and as Margaret is about to leave, I'll hire a less expensive girl, and do more of my own cooking; that will probably be a great saving in more respects than one. I miss the pleasure and profit derived from iny magazine, enough to make the extra effort willingly." It was surprising how much happier they all felt, and when at the end of the month the paper came, impulsive Jennie actually kissed it. "Why, it looks like an old friend," she exclaimed. "Yes, and it is a friend in more ways than we realised, and not only a friend, but a help and a teacher," replied her mother. Mr. Willis was silent; he saw the child's enthusiasm and heard the mother's comments, but afterwards, when only his wife and himself were in the room, he said: "Wife, I am positively ashamed that I ever could have been so blind and stupid as not to properly appreciate the worth of a good Connexional magazine. Absolutely ashamed that my poorer neighbours and my own children knew more of the worth and teaching of the religious press than I did. We will economise in some other direction than this in the future, do without something not actually indispensable to our comfort and satisfaction; and I promise you have heard the last from me you are very likely to about not being able to afford to have it." And that was how Mrs. Willis succeeded in stopping her monthly magazine. TWO SONNETS. I.-IDEAL AND ATTAINMENT. LIKE as some painter, who by day and night And then he knows he may not, for the taint As he declines upon a lower theme, Wasted with weary effort, so do we, Whose every action still some failings mar, II. "WE HAVE FOUND JESUS." "WE have found Jesus." It is long since then, Oh seers of science, you have higher ken Of truths that pass our knowing. Not in vain We are poor men and simple: you are wise, And, sweeping heaven with your keener eyes, J. H. P. F. REST AND RETIREMENT. A SHORT PAPER FOR SUNDAY. "Oh for a desert place,' with only the Master's smile; Not that I lightly prize the treasure of valued friends Not that I turn aside from the work the Master sends, Yet I have longed for a pause in the rush and whirl of time, TRIED and burdened people-and all people I know are tried and burdened-must, if they are to live to any length of years, devise or discover some method of habitually "getting away." They must find a retreat into which they may flee, and be delivered from the burdens and cares of their life for some little while. We know, from experience, how incessant mingling with men taxes and tasks one. We know how it wears out the finer sensibilities. We know, how, oftentimes, it exhausts upon externals the whole force of the mind. We know, from our own experience, how wise it was, and how needful, even in the Saviour, not to be always in heated crowds. Now, one great danger, in our time, is, that every man is so active. Every man has so much to think about and to do. In our great towns and cities, nothing ever moves slowly. We eat fast, we drink fast, we walk fast, we think fast, and we are fast. If we had the re-fashioning of the year we would make it twenty-four months. If we had the re-fashioning of the day we should hear a proposal to go, not merely hour twenty-four, but forty-eight. If we had our own re-fashioning, we would kindle in ourselves a fire that would burn forty-eight hours without replenishing. Intensity of life, overwrought occupation, come from the very social, political, and commercial conditions in which we live. And, as if this were not enough, we try, by strong stimulus, to wind up the flagging nerve, worn out by too much excitement. We want, in that way to make twelve hours do the work of twenty-four. Such a life is not worthy of a man. It is a life that certainly is adverse, in all its influences, to the development of that which makes man the noblest animal on the globe. We need retirement not merely because we become so weary; we need it, and enough of it, in order that we may think, consider, and know what we are, where we are, and what we are doing. Occasional retirement affords opportunity for self-examination. The most important of all studies is the study of ourselves. Have you, dear reader, entered on this branch of study? If not, suffer the word of exhortation. Every ship that makes a voyage, after fogs or storms have obscured the sky, seizes the first moment of starlight or sunlight to take observations. The seamen have been going by dead reckoning or by no reckoning, but when they get an opportunity to make an observation, they can very soon tell by computation where they are. Men need to make just such observations in the voyage of life. Where am I? What is my celestial latitude and longitude? Am I on the right track? What has been my voyage thus far? How far am I upon my way? These are questions which we need to ask ourselves. It must be of the first importance to know whether we be in a state of condemnation, or of acceptance, whether we be children of the devil, and heirs of wrath, or children of God, and heirs of glory. It must be of the first importance to know whether we are growing in holiness, which is the chief dignity and happiness of a moral being, and without which no man shall see. God. Self-examination, then, is of the highest moment, and rest and going apart from life alone afford the opportunity for it. The conceptions of imagination are the most vivid and luminous when the eye is closed to the sight of sensible objects; that is, internal vision is most powerful in the absence of that which is external. In like manner the eye of the soul must be closed to earthly scenes and attractions, if exalted or impressive views are to be attained of invisible and divine realities. As a lake shut in by woods or precipices, and spreading out its placid bosom to the sky, reflects the imagery of the bright expanse and of the surrounding objects, blended in one beauteous scene: so a mind free from the perturbations of sense and passion, and turned in thought and affection towards God, best receives the |