see him, and presently, when she heard the steps of a horse coming slowly along the village street, she could not help crying. The horse stopped; she wiped away her tears and listened, and in a minute or two a knock was heard at the door, and the squire with his riding-whip in his hand was soon in the cottage. I need not repeat the conversation that followed. Jane was so excited that she scarcely knew what she said or did. But she was not too much excited to know what the squire said, and she was almost beside herself with joy, when her husband came home, tired and weary in the evening, and she burst upon him with the good news, "Oh Bob, the squire has been here to-day, and has spoken so kindly to me; and he will let us go and he will let us go home again next week, if we please. He says he has made an example of us, which was all he ever wanted to do, and he hopes our troubles will have been a lesson to ourselves, and now poor old John Fiske's cottage is empty since his death, and we may have it! Thank God!"

They were soon back again in their native village, and have now as good a cottage as any in the parish, and ever since they have conducted themselves so well and orderly, and managed matters so much better than ever they before did,

that I hope I may venture to apply to Bob Wright and his wife the words of Holy Scripture: "It is good for them that they have been in trouble."

JOHN HENRY PARKER, OXFORD AND LONDON.

A WORD IN DUE SEASON TO THE

PARENTS OF HIS FLOCK.

BY A VILLAGE PASTOR.

MY DEAR BRETHREN,

You see those happy and smiling faces around. your fire-side. Whose are they? Your children's, your own dear children's. You heartily love your children. To be sure you do. They are your own flesh and blood, bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh. You are very anxious about their welfare. You do well to be anxious about it, for they have immortal souls. When you brought them into the world. your heavenly Father breathed into them a living soul. That soul will never cease to be. It will live for ever. My dear friends, it is concerning these immortal beings, these children you love so dearly, that I wish to speak to you. I am very anxious about them as well as you. I am, I say, very anxious about them, but for another reason than that which makes you anxious. You are anxious because they are your own children; I

am anxious because they are a part of my flock -because the charge of their immortal souls has been intrusted to me. I have been appointed to that office in this parish. Christ has bid me feed His lambs as well as His sheep in this fold. If you consider this, you will not think it strange that I should be desirous to say a few words to you concerning the welfare of their souls. Let me earnestly beg you to listen to the words of one who has so great an interest in their wellbeing. But you may be inclined to say, Why should you wish to speak to us about our children? What occasion can there be for it? Do we not love them dearly? Are we not as anxious for their welfare as you can be? No doubt you do love them. No doubt you think you are anxious for their welfare; but there is something that makes me think, that, though some may be anxious for their welfare, all are not, or at least are not anxious for their eternal welfare. This it is which makes me wish to speak to you on the subject. Now why is it that I am led to think that all do not care for their children's immortal welfare? It is because so many seem to live without God in the world-seem to have no regard for the solemn vow they made in their baptism-seem to make no effort to lead one

moment of their lives according to that holy beginning. How many have grieved the Holy Spirit! Yea, and how many, alas, seem to have quenched the Spirit, that Holy Spirit by which they were once sealed as God's children to the day of redemption. Now whose fault can this be? There's the question. Parents, is it yours? Is it through neglect or bad training that these children of God, who were once washed and justified and cleansed by the precious blood of Christ, have again become guilty before God? Is it through your fault that there is a dark and dismal spot, the stain of sin, upon their baptismal robe? Are not some Are not some of you afraid to ask yourselves that question? Parents, I say, why is it that your children so many times grow up so unlike Christians? Is it your fault, or is it not? Have you trained them up in the way they should go, or have you not? I much fear that in too many cases too great a share of the guilt does indeed lie at your door. You have never really considered that your children have immortal souls-that they are God's children as well as yours, and intrusted to your care to be brought up as His children should be. You have cherished their bodies; you have perhaps spared no time to train them up to get their living in