boast not of to-morrow, you know not what a day may bring forth: "Make haste! for your sun is fast going down.”

What odd whims, what strange thoughts, at times, come into the mind? It is said that

"A raven once an acorn took,

From Basan's tallest, stoutest tree,
And laid it near a limpid brook,
And lived another oak to see."

And here am I, pleasing myself with the thought, that Old Humphrey, by taking this cry of the aged chieftain, this New Zealand acorn, and planting it in your mind and memory, may, even yet, live to see it spring up to God's glory. Smile, if you will, at the oddity of my conceit; things more unlikely to happen have taken place; but however this may be, the lowly disciple of the Redeemer, the humble and grateful believer in the gospel of Christ, will not fail to be struck with this fresh proof that "the ways of God are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as our thoughts."

Here is an uneducated heathen, one who, if he have followed the custom of his tribe, has lived in a rude hut of twigs and grass, clothed himself with mats and rushes, cut his hair with oyster shells, ruthlessly slain his foe with his hennee (halberd) and patoo (battle-axe,) drinking

his blood, and feasting on his flesh. Here is he, his heart humbled by the power of the gospel, uttering a cry resounding like a trumpet in Christian ears—a cry that appeals to us all. We know that our life is "even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." We know, too, that "there is but a step between us and death," and yet, knowing these things, we still require to be reminded of them. Oh, let the voice from New Zealand be drunk in, not by our ears only, but by our hearts, and let our language be, Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days; satisfy me early with thy mercy, and give me to rejoice in thy salvation." Tarry not; come quickly; "Make haste! for my sun is fast going down."

ON TRACTS.

AMONG the unnumbered recreations which the Giver of all good has placed within the reach of the man of years, the pilgrim far advanced in this world's thorny path, few afford me more real enjoyment than the practice of moving unobtrusively among my fellow-men; of seeing, without, as it were, being seen; observing, without being observed; and of picking up such fragments of character and information, as are not only curious and interesting in themselves, but also, capable of being turned to good account. There is a quiet revelling of the heart in such cases, that is not the less enjoyed because it is unseen. Oh, what a treasure-house is a cheerful spirit! What a source of unlimited enjoyment is a love of character!

One half the shrewd sentences, the odd conreits, the pithy sayings, the humorous remarks, the striking observations, and the arresting reflections that I have picked up in my rambles among men, would make a volume of no common

size, and, I could almost persuade myself, of no ordinary interest. The wallet of the beggar contains not a greater diversity of scraps and oddments than may be found in the loose fragmentary papers of Old Humphrey.

It is an excellent thing, in going through the world, to know for what we are fit; this knowledge is of very extensive use, and the want of it leads to very great irregularity; would that I had known something of it in my earlier days!

you

Some men appear made for their position, so much so, that if, in God's good providence, they were to be removed from it, you might search far before could find a suitable person to fill up the void occasioned by their absence. On the other hand, there are those who appear as much out of place in their calling, as a merry-andrew would be in a pulpit, or a chimney-sweep in a baker's shop.

Some men have natural gifts befitting them for particular undertakings, and others have acquired attainments which render them equally efficient. When this is the case, keep every one in his proper place; the blacksmith to his hammer, the coachman to his whip, the surgeon to his lancet, and all will go well; but if we put the surgeon's lancet in the hand of the blacksmith, and the blacksmith's hammer in the hands of the surgeon,

what a pretty piece of business do we make of it! Again I say, it is a good thing to know for what we are fit, and for what we are unfit. And also to remember, that from the changes in ourselves, and in circumstances around us, what we may be very fit for at one time, we may be very unfit for at another.

It is now the practice of many Christians to distribute tracts to their poorer neighbours, to the young, to the passer-by, and to all classes likely to be profited thereby; tens of thousands of printed monitors have thus been sent abroad in the world, and it would be hard to say the amount of good which has been done by these unobtrusive heralds of peace, these little messengers of mercy; but I have been struck by the different qualifications of tract distributors: some have appeared fit, and some very unfit, for what they have undertaken.

Good men have not all amiable tempers, or polite manners—the more is the pity; for the abrupt behaviour, the forbidding brow, and the rebuking tongue of a Christian man, are sad hindrances to his usefulness. There are some men that you can love at once, and there are others with whom you would hardly like to be left alone. I could point out those who, in giving away a dozen tracts, would make a dozen friends,