In one word, my dear children, Popery is a system which places man in the place of God.

J. F. C.

BIBLE SUBJECTS FOR EACH SUNDAY IN SEPTEMBER.

177. Sept. 1. Texts to show that the people of God fear Him.

178. Sept. 8. Texts that describe the people of God

as mourners.

179. Sept. 15. Texts that describe the people of God as poor and needy.

180, Sept. 22. Texts that describe the people of God as praying ones.

181. Sept. 29. Texts that describe the people of God as coming to Jesus.

LINES ON BIBLE ENIGMA (Page 223).
Not of the world, but taught to cry
For mercy to the Lord on high;
Taught their works to count as vain;
Taught to trust a Saviour slain ;
Taught to love atoning blood;
Taught the holy fear of God.
Taught to live a life of faith,

Marked with this for life and death;
Not of the world, but born of God;
Not of the world, but safe through blood;
Not of the world, but heirs of bliss ;
Not of the world, but blest with peace.
Not of the world, while here they stay;
Not of the world in that great day
When graceless ones to woe are hurled :
Then happy they, not of the world.

S.

BIBLE ENIGMA.

1. WHAT king of Judah prayed for recovery from sickness?

2. Who was struck dead for touching the ark? 3. Who was David's first wife?

4. Who removed his mother from being queen on account of her idolatry?

5. What Prophet's name is formed by transposing two letters of the answer?

Now, if you read God's Word, as all should do,
This will not an Enigma be to you;

Take the initials, and you then will see
What's true of all mankind—of you and me.

W. W.

ANSWER TO BIBLE ENIGMA (Page 255.) SEEK YE THE LORD.

Yes, "Seek Him while He may be found,"

Is God's own solemn word.

In Christ His mercy doth abound;
In Him, then, seek the Lord.

Salvation's in no other name,
None else can help afford,

None else can make you free from blame :
In Jesus seek the Lord.

How blest the young who early seek!
"They'll find me is His word.
Dear reader, let your conscience speak :
Do you, then, seek the Lord?

You must be led before you die,
Responsive to the word,
To Jesus Christ for help to fly,
And in Him seek the Lord;
Or you will never have true rest,
The rest His wounds afford :
They, only they, are ever blest,

Who seek and find the Lord.-ED.

THE

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PETER

ON a miserable pallet bedstead, in a small attic of one of the meanest houses in the lowest portion of a provincial town in the south of England, a woman lay dying. The curtainless window and windowpanes, stuffed with straw, the scanty patchwork covering to the bed, the single rickety chair, the unswept floor, the damp, mildewed walls, the door falling from its hinges, told of pinching poverty. On the opposite corner to the bedstead there was a heap of straw, to serve as another bed, and against the wall a much-battered sea-chest and an open

L

are

basket, containing even now a few rotting oranges, some damaged tapes, and such articles as vended by small hawkers. Standing by the bed-side was a lad with an intelligent, not ill-favoured, countenance, though sickly, and expressive of deep grief, as he gazed on the face of one who had ever been a kind mother to him, and from whom he now knew full well that he was to be parted for ever.

"Ned, my boy, I have done my best to keep myself and thee from the workhouse," said the woman, trying to lift herself up on her arm, that she might the better see the lad. "It has been a hard struggle, but I have done it for thy father's sake. He was a sailor, and would never have thought to se me come to this pass. Thou must be one too, Ned. It's a rough life, but better far than starving on shore. I've done little for thee, lad, but feed thee, and try to teach thee to be honest as thy father was. Be honest, Ned, whatever ye do, for thy poor mother's sake. But for thee, lad, I'd been willing to leave the weary world many a long year ago."

"Oh, mother, mother, stay now-oh, do!” cried the lad. "Won't the doctor help you-won't the parson ?"

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No, lad; no doctor, no parson, can keep me here. But I'd like to see the parson. May be he'd tell me about the place I'm going to; for it's far off, I wot, and little I know of the road.'

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Oh, mother, I'll run and fetch him."

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Just as Ned was going, the dying woman sank down, exhausted with talking. Don't leave me, boy," she faintly murmured; "it's too late now. May God hear a widow's prayer, and be merciful to you, and forgive me!"

Her voice sank-the last words were gasped out. Her son bent his head to hear her: he stood gazing

at her face, expecting to hear her speak again. Gradually he became aware that he was alone in the world. His grief was too deep for tears. For hours he stood there, watching the face of the only being who had cared for him in the world; and then Ned Burton went out and did as she had before bade him, and, with the money she had hoarded up for the purpose, and that produced by the sale of the last few articles in the house, save his father's sea-chest, obtained for her an humble funeral, truly, but not that of a pauper. Then, leaving the chest with a neighbour till he should return and claim it, he went forth penniless into the world to seek his fortune.

Ned Burton's ambition was to be a sailor-not that he knew anything of the sea, except that his father had spent his life on it. His mother could not read nor write, and, unable to instruct him or to pay for his instruction-being, indeed, too poor to do without the pittance his labours brought—she had allowed him to grow up in extreme ignorance; though, according to the faint light that was in her, she had taught him, to the best of her power, to do right. Still poor Ned knew nothing of religion. Thus, helpless and forlorn, he went forth to battle with the world. A neighbour had told him that big ships sailed from Portsmouth, so towards Portsmouth he bent his steps, inquiring his way as he went. A few of those who knew him, and had bought his mother's oranges and bobbins, gave him a few pence, and filled his wallet with crusts of bread, and scraps of cheese and bacon, so that he had not to beg for food.

At night he slept under haystacks or hedges, or in empty barns, and thus in time he reached Portsmouth, sore-footed, weary, and hungry, for during the last day his wallet had been empty.