form a library, for which you may have to bless God in after-life?

Our frontispiece is the portrait of a dear youth who has lived all his days side by side with the writer, who has lately died rejoicing in victory over death through the precious blood of Jesus. I should have liked to insert a memoir of him in this number, but am obliged to defer it until the month of February, having previously promised to spare room this month for the memoir of J. T. Welch.

I must now, looking up to God for His help and blessing, send forth the first number of the tenth volume of the Little Gleaner, with my hearty wishes for heaven's choicest blessings for time and for eternity to rest upon the head of my thousands of readers. THE EDITOR.

A LESSON FROM CREATION.

As I sat on the beach at the elose of the day,

When the fields white to harvest did God's bounties display,

The moon in full splendour the circuit besped

Above the horizon its beauties to shed

On the white-foaming waves as they dashed on the shore,
Or returned to the deep with perpetual roar.
Like fire from the ocean it seemed to arise,
And brighter appear'd as it travell'd the skies,
Till the sea, like a bed of diamonds bright,
So sparkling and gay, quite dazzled my sight.
Such a view of creation gives a lesson to me--
It shows how supreme the Creator must be

Who spake to the waves when the tempest was high,
And at His command like a fish-pond they lie.
And yet the Great God who governs the sea
Takes care of a worm-ay, even of me;
Ever since I was born it is He that has crowned
The life that He gave me with blessings all round.

E. COBB.

TRUE AND FALSE NAMES.

CALL things which you detect in yourself by their true English names. I think that one of the master incantations, one of the most signal deceits which we practise upon ourselves, comes from the use of language. There are words which we learn in childhood which we abandon when we come to manhood. Generally speaking, our fireside words are old Saxon words-short, knotty, tough, and imbued with moral and affectional meanings; but as we grow older, these words are too rude and plain for our use, and so we get Latin terms and periphrases by which to express many of our thoughts. When we talk about ourselves, we almost invariably use Latin words; and when we talk about our neighbours, we use Saxon words. And one of the best things a man can do, I think, is to examine himself in the Saxon tongue. If a man tells that which is contrary to the truth, let him not say, "I equivocate "-let him say, "I lie." Lie! why, it brings the judgment-day right home to a man's thoughts. Men do not like it, but it is exactly the thing that will most effectually touch the moral sense; and the more the moral sense is touched the better. If a man has departed from rectitude in his dealings with another, let him not say, "I took advantage," which is a roundabout, long sentence: let him say, "I cheated." That is a very direct word. It springs straight to the conscience, as the arrow flies whizzing from the bow to the centre of the mark. Does it grate harshly on your ear? Nevertheless, it is better that you should employ it; and you should come to this determination: "I will call things that I detect in my conduct by those clear-faced, rough-tongued words that my enemies would use if they wanted to sting me to the quick,"-Beecher.

THE TWO NUNS; OR, CHOOSING
THE BETTER PART.

YES, after long searching, she's found
The volume inspired by God-
That tells her how grace doth abound,
Through faith in the Lamb and His blood.
Her conscience has long been oppressed,
Sin's burden long filled her with pain;
She sought by her works to find rest,
But found that her doings were vain.

On finding the volume inspired,

She found out with grief her mistake;
Her hope in her merits expired,-
She pleaded for Jesus's sake.

The mercy she sought she has found,
And tries to teach others the way-
The way where free grace doth abound,
Which leads to the regions of day.

Her book is her guide, and she now
Renounces her hope in the priest,
Or keeping her baptismal vow;

From Rome and her bonds she's released.

But look how her sister, with pride,

Clings fast to a Saviour of wood;
Content in her death to abide,
Rejecting the Lamb and His blood.
O give me the book! I exclaim,
And give me the Spirit of God;
To lead me, though covered with shame,
To bathe in Immanuel's blood.

Then take, ye blind daughters of Rome,
Your wood, and your relics, and form;

While hiding in Jesus alone,

I'm safe from the wind and the storm.

S. S.

PAID IN YOUR OWN COIN. "GRANDMOTHER, I hate to go away from you: you like me; nobody else does. Last night, George Redin and I had a quarrel; I struck him, and he struck me. Nobody likes me." Peter Jones said this as he was sitting on his trunk ready to start for home.

"He only paid you in your own coin," said grandmother; "people generally do-a blow for a blow, cross words for cross words, hate for hate."

"I don't know but it is so," said Peter, looking very sorry, "but it is a poor sort of coin."

"How different it would be if your pockets were full of the right sort of coin !" said grandmother. "What kind ?" asked Peter.

"If

"The coin of kindness," said grandmother. the great pockets of your heart were full of that sort of coin, the more you'd get back, for you are generally paid in your own coin, you know; then how happy you would be!"

"The coin of kindness," repeated Peter slowly; "that is a good coin, isn't it? I wish my pockets were full of it, grandmother: if I'd be kind to the boys, they'd be kind to me.'

"Just so," said grandmother. Peter's own mother had died. After that he was sent to grandmother's, for he had a quarrelsome, fretful temper, and his aunt could not manage him with the other children. His grandmother dealt kindly and patiently with him, and helped him to improve himself. Peter now had a new mother, and his father had sent for him to come home. Peter did not want to go. He felt sure he should not like his new mother, and that she would not like him. "That depends upon yourself, Peter," said grandmother; 66 carry love and kindness in your pockets, and you'll find no difficulty." The idea struck the boy's mind. He wished he could, he said.

And the best of it is," said grandmother, "if you once begin paying it out, your pockets will never be empty, for you'll be paid in your own coin. Be kind, and you'll be treated kindly; love, and you'll be loved."

"I wish I could," said Peter.

All the way home he more or less thought of it. I do not know about his welcome home, or what his father or new mother said to him. The next morning he arose early, as he was used to at grandmother's,