EDITOR'S ADDRESS TO HIS DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS. MY DEAR Young Friends,—It seems almost beyond belief that we have again reached the month of August; but facts all around us confirm the truth of the date in our diary, “August the First, 1869." The golden grain is nodding, The rustling sheaves he's binding; The "pitchers" lift their burdens, The gleaning groups are busy, Their limbs, 'tis true, are aching, In motley groups go forth, For I have been a gleaner For more than twice seven years, Many a field I've entered And picked up golden ears. And still as months roll onward, To help me with their prayers. Man's summit soon will gain, The night is surely coming, Then while 'tis called to-day, And may my readers gladly *The Sower. * ONE OF THE EARL OF ABERDEEN'S LAST ACTS. Ir is a deeply-interesting fact, that on Monday, the 21st March, 1864 (the day before he died), Lord Aberdeen wrote instructions to a publisher to print for him some copies of the following leaflet, which was drawn up by his Lordship : 66 "DEATH MAY BE NEAR. Reader, whoever thou art, it may be soon, very, very soon, the clods of the valley shall cover thee, and the worms shall feed sweetly on thee. 'Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.' (Job xiv. 1, 2.) On the day when thy poor body shall be cold and motionless, the sun will shine as brightly, the birds will sing as gaily, men will pursue their different objects with as much earnestness as when thou wast full of health, and youth, and spirits. Few, very few, will ever think of thee; and even from the minds of those few soon wilt thou pass away and be forgotten. "Reader, after death is 'the judgment.' Thou must appear before the judgment-seat of Christ; and yet, perhaps, thou hast to this moment lived as careless about thy soul as if thou hadst none. It may be thou hast gone on, day after day, week after week, month after month, yea, perhaps year after year, as unconcerned about its eternal state as if hell were a tale and eternity a trifle. Death may be near at hand; how near thou knowest not. It might be this hour, this moment; but should it be this moment, where would thy soul be? 666 Thou canst not serve God and mammon.' In vain dost thou profess to serve God, if thou art doing nothing for Him. Art thou, like Jesus, going about doing good? Dost thou visit the sick -pity the poor-and art thou seeking the salvation of those around thee? (Matt. xxv. 41.)" Reader, the laying down of this book may be thy last act here; and then! oh then! Heaven or hell for ever. ON THE TRACK. THE other day I heard a mother ask her little son to do something. "In a minute," he said. She spoke again. But it was one, two, three, four, five minutes before he minded her. It makes me think of the switch-tender's boy. What if he had waited a minute before minding his father? A switch-tender in Prussia was just going to move the rail, in order to put a coming train of cars on a side track, when he caught sight of his little son playing on the track. The engine was in sight, and he had not a moment to spare. He might jump and save his child, but he could not do that, and turn the switch in time; and if it were not done, the on-coming train would meet another train, and a terrible crash and smash take place. The safety of hundreds of lives depended upon his fidelity. What could he do? What did he do ? 66 Lie down! lie down!" he called, with a loud, quick voice to the child; and seizing the switch, the train passed safely on its proper track. Did the heavy train run over the little boy? Was he killed? Was he crushed to pieces? No; for he did just as his father told him, and did it instantly. He fell flat between the rails, and the cars went high over his head; and when the anxious father sprang to the spot, there he was |