school, holding a collection for this object, could secure $5, and many $20, for this Home. The Board carefully husbands the means lodged with them for this Home. We have no benevolent enterprise in the Church, where every penny is made to tell so effectually for good as here. There is nothing wasted. Every stone and stump, stick and shred, are turned to some practical end. But we cannot disburse that which we do not receive. B. BAUSMAN,

President Board of Managers.

THE TOLL-MAN'S FAMILY.

A TRUE STORY.

In the town of Dessau, in Germany, there was a long bridge over the Elbe. The ends of the bridge were much lower than the middle. The toll-man's house was placed upon the highest part of it, in the centre. In the spring of the year, when the ice was breaking up, there arose a great storm, and the river with the broken pieces of ice came roaring down so violently, that the ends of the bridge were soon carried away, and nothing was left but the middle arch of the bridge, with the toll-man's house upon it, which looked as if it were upon a little island in the middle of the river. The force of the river was so great, that it was impossible that the arch should stand long, and the poor toll-man feared that his home would soon be carried away by the waves, and his wife and children all drowned. There were a great many people on the banks, pitying the poor man's fate, and he and his wife and children screamed to them for help, but the storm was heavy, and the ice made it dangerous, and they were all too cowardly to go out in a boat to try to save the poor family from drowning. Among them was a rich count, who held up a large purse of gold, and offered it to any one, who would go and save the toll-man and his wife and children; but no one would risk his life for money. At last a poor man came along in a wagon, and as soon as he saw the danger the poor people were in, he set off in a little boat, and never m nded the storm. He got safely to the toll-house, but he had to go three times before he brought away the whole family. Just as he was landing the last load the arch gave way, and the house was carried down the river. The poor father and mother and children were too happy to speak, when they found they were safe.

The Count then offered the poor man who saved them the purse of gold. No," he said, "my life was worth more than money, and I do not wish to be paid for doing right." The Count urged

him to take it; he still refused it for himself, but said to the Count, "I wish you would give it to the poor toll-man, who has lost all his clothes and furniture, and who has so many little children to feed."

EAST WIND.

Why should the wind coming from the East over an ocean of water depress the human body, while that which comes from the West across the continent, enlivens the spirits and gives courage and vigor? Be this as it may, it seems as if some people never felt any wind that was not East; they are all "out of sorts." The weather is always just what they don't want. I met one of these men awhile ago, a farmer who raised all manner of crops. It was a wet day, and I said:

"Mr. Nayling, this rain will be fine for your grass crop."

"Yes, perhaps; but it is bad for the corn, and will keep it back. I don't believe we shall have a crop."

A few days after this, when the sun was shining hot, I said: "Fine sun for your corn, sir."

"Yes, pretty fair, but it is awful for the rye. Rye wants cold weather."

Again, on a cold morning, I met my neighbor, and said: "This must be capital for your rye, Mr. Nayling."

Yes, but it is the very worst weather for the corn and grass. They want heat to bring them forward."

So the man lives in a perpetual East wind. Nothing suits him, and it would be impossible for Providence to give him weather, about which he would not grumble. I know one man who feels that our country is on the very brink of ruin, the government a curse, and everything to be destroyed. And he has felt and talked thus for at least thirty years, and yet his property has been increasing in value all this time, amid this gathering ruin. The fact is, the man lives in an unchanging East wind. And there is Mr. Slow, who lives in the hollow under the Long Hill; he has been mourning for many years over the degeneracy of the times, and always telling what wonderful lawyers, and doctors, and ministers there were when he was young! He can sleep under any preaching he now hears, and the lawyers seem to be young upstarts, or too old to practice. Ah! Mr. Slow, does your weather vane point anywhere but to the East?-Rev. John Todd, D. D.

The Sunday- School Drawer.

THE MISSIONARY HEN.-In a small town in one of the counties of England there lives an old gentleman who feels an interest in sending the gospel to the heathen, and so he thought that to help on this good work he would devote the money he got from one of his hens, and she should be called the "Missionary hen;" so, when the next missionary meeting came, the people present were surprised and pleased to hear announced, "The missionary hen, fifteen shillings." A good deal this, was it not, for one little hen to be the means of sending up to the mission house in London, to be sent from there to foreign lands?

Well, time went on, and every year the amount was the same, the good little hen still helping on the good cause. But, alas! about two months before the meeting last year a note was received by a lady living near, who is much interested in missions, to say that the poor hen had died, and the owner wished that it might be buried in a corner of her garden. Permission was given, and if some day you could visit that garden, in one corner you would see a little mound, and at the head of it a wooden frame, and these words inscribed, carefully shut in with glass, lest damp should efface them:

"Here lies the missionary hen

Her contributions four pounds ten.
Though she is dea1, the work goes on,
For seven daughters and her son

May carry on the work that she begun."

If you will reckon, you will find how many years it was that she contributed fifteen shillings each year.-Sabbath-School Visitor.

PARDON FOR OMISSIONS.-Dr. Samuel Johnson, in writing to his mother say: "You have been the best mother, and I believe the best woman in the world. I thank you for your indulgence to me, and I beg forgiveness for all I have done ill, and all that I have omitted to do well."

So in the prayer he composed at the same time: "Forgive me whatever I have done unkindly to my mother, and whatever I have omitted to do kindly." There is a deep meaning in this. Our offences against God and our fellowmen are far greater in the omission of duties than in the commission of sins. Let any one think it over faithfully, and see if the weight of condemnation does not rest there.

And how much point in the expression "omitted to do kindly." We mightoften at least-almost as well not speak the truth at all, as to speak it not in love; so it may often happen that an act, in itself eminently proper, has a dreadful omission about it, simply because it is not done kindly. What is charity, however bountifully bestowed, if sympathy be wanting? It is often positive insult. Without pursuing the hint farther, let each one search for the catalogue of good things which he has left undone, and strive for a better spirit and a better life.

KEEPING FAITH.-Sir William Napier was one day taking a long country walk, when he met a little girl about five years old sobbing over a broken

bowl. She had dropped and broken it, in bringing it back from the field to which she had taken her father's dinner, and she said she would be beaten on her return home for having broken it. As she said this, a sudden gleam of hope seemed to cheer her. She innocently loooked up into Sir William's face and said, " But you can mend it, can't you?" He "explained that he could not mend the bowl, but the trouble he could overcome, by the gift of a sixpence to buy another. However, on opening his purse, it was empty of silver, and he had to make amends by promising to meet his little friend on the same spot at the same hour the next day, and to bring sixpence with him; bidding her meanwhile to tell her mother she had seen a gentleman who would bring her the money for the bowl next day. The child entirely trusting him, went on her way comforted. On his return home he found an invitation awaiting him to dine in Bath the following evening, to meet some one whom he especially wished to ser. He hesitated for some little time, trying to calculate the possibility of giving the meeting to his little friend of the broken bowl and still being in time for the dinner party in Bath; but finding this could not be, he wrote to decline accepting the invitation, on the plea of a pre engagement," saying, "I cannot disappoint her; she trusted me."

THE German Emperor, while visiting a village, was welcomed by the school children of the place. After making a speech for them he took an orange from a plate and asked: To what kingdom does this belong?" "The vegetable kingdom, sire," replied the girl. The Emperor took a gold coin from his pocket, and holding it up asked, " And to what kingdom does this belong?" "To the mineral kingdom, sire," replied the little girl. "And to what kingd m do I belong then?' asked the Emperor. The little girl colored deeply, for she did not like to say "the animal kingdom," as he thought she would, lest his majesty should be offended, when a bright thought came, and she said with radiant eyes, "To God's kingdom sire." The Emperor was deeply moved. A tear stood in his eye. He placed his hand on the child's head and said, most devoutly, "God grant that I may be accounted worthy of that kingdom."

THE other Sunday, the following was posted up in the lobby of the Cambridge, Washington county, Presbyterian Church: "Notice-The person who stole Songs of the Sanctuary' from seat No. 32 should improve the opportunity of singing them here, as they will have no occasion to sing them hereafter."

Editor's Drawer.

THE VALUE OF BIRDS.-In order to give a palpable, statistical idea of the value of the birds in the destruction of insects, a German land-owner named Reubens, in an agricultural paper, publishes the following figure on the use of the swallows: "A swallow-pair is sixteen hours in the day in motion, and each swallow on the average, feeds the young twenty times during the day. Both swallows are, therefore, six hundred times by the nest daily. As now each of the parent swallows brings every time from ten to

twelve insects, the two destroy in the course of one day at least six thousand four hundred insects. To their own nourishment the parents need about six hundred insects daily, so that a swallow family destroys, daily, seven thousand, and in the month two hundred and ten thousand injurious insects. If the parent swallows in the first month, when they are alone, eat thirty thousand insects, for the whole summer a swallow family of seven members consumes five hundred and seventy-six thousand insects.. If one hundred pairs of swallows make their nests in a village, these birds and their descend-. ants will, in the course of a single summer, eat over fifty-seven millions of insects." The same figures apply to the starlings. We trust that these figures will induce many to provide for their little winged visitors, and see that they are not allowed to be recklessly killed, remembering that for every pair of useful birds destroyed their places are occupied by half a million injurious insects in the course of the year.

MANNERS IN A TELEGRAPH OFFICE.-In illustration of the importance of good manners a London paper recalls an incident which occurred at a Scotch telegraph office some years ago. Lord Russell was the Minister in attendance upon Her Majesty at Balmoral, and one evening there came a messenger to Aboyne-a little old man, buried in a great coat-with a telegram from his Lordship to one of his Ministerial colleagues in London. The inessage was handed to the clerk in charge, a perempt ry person, who seeing that it did not bear a signature-it was in the days of the old companies, when a signature was necessary-threw it contemptuously back, with the authoritative command, " Put your name to it; it's a pity your master don't know how to send a telegram." The name was added, and the message handed back. Way you can't write, either!" cried the enraged clerk, after vaiuly endeavoring to make out the signature. "Here, let me do it. What's your name?" My name," said the little old messenger, very deliberately, is John Russell." It was the veritable Lord John himself; and the unhappy clerk was removed from Aboyne forthwith.

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A LADY, famous for her "muslin theology," talking to Carlyle, was (so says Oliver Optic's Magazine) bewailing the wickedness of the Jews in not receiving our Saviour, and ending her tirade against them by expressing her regret that He had not appeared in our times. "How delighted," said she, we should all be to throw our doors open to Him and listen to His divine precep's! Don't you think so, Mr. Carlyle? The sturdy philosopher, thus appealed to, said in broad Scotch: " Madam, I don't. I think that, had He come very fashionably dressed, with plenty of money, preaching doctrines palatable to the higher orders, I might have the honor of receiving from you a card of invitation, on the back of which would be written, 'To meet our Saviour; but if He had come uttering His divine precepts, and denouncing the Pharisees, and associating with the publicans and lower orders, as He did, you would have treated Him much as the Jews did, and cried out, Take Him to Newgate, and hang Him!'''

HENRY CLAY used to say that there were three classes of people with whom it was never safe to quarrel: "First, ministers: for the reason that they could denounce me from the pulpit, and I had none through which to reply. Second editors; for they had the most powerful engines from which they could every day hurl wrath and fury upon me, and I had none through which to reply. And, finally, with women; for they would have the last word anyhow."