of his consolation had its spring there. At St. Helena Napoleon had large maps hung on the walls of an apartment in his house, and amused himself by "fighting his battles o'er again" as he gazed at the localities of his late wars. But there is another side to all this. If memory gratifies, it also grieves. The wonder-worker, at whose magic-touch fairy-like scenes appear, does not fail to put before us visions of gloom and horror. Aristotle called memory the scribe of the soul, and, like other scribes, it records the agreeable and the disagreeable alike. "We wept when we remembered Zion." An ancient celebrity, being requested to learn the art of memory, answered, Nay, I am already well-skilled in that. Rather would I, if possible, learn the art of forgetting." Ill words spoken, wrong thoughts indulged in, bad deeds done, these are sources of poignant suffering to all but the base and the depraved.

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Further illustration is needless; enough has been said to remind us that all earthly good has its alloy, each sweet its bitter. If we would have unmingled bliss we must look above for it. There is but one unmitigated species of peace, namely, the "peace of God, which passeth all understanding." Of Him only may be it be said, "In thy presence is fulness of joy."

Troubled waters are often healing waters.

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Not only "a great multitude of impotent folk" lay in the five porches, but their number has been considerably increased by a great multitude" of theologians and critics who have dilated with much erudition and feeling on the water and its peculiarity. Into their elaborate discussions we do not now care to enter; it suffices for our present purpose to suppose that Bethesda was the scene of the phenomenon known as intermittent springs. The popular belief was that only while these were active could they be efficacious. When they moved they removed malady and pain.

This is nothing short of a parable. Alas for him who cannot readily interpret it by his own eventful experience. The Bible is full of teachings to this effect, that the price of all true nobility of character is suffering. And history, public and private, corroborates and exemplifies the fact which the Scriptures so frequently and emphatically declare. The man who is bad in principle, feeble in conscience, deficient in heavenward emotion, devoid of devout aspiration, is almost invariably one who has had smooth sailing and few storms. On the other hand, the man who has learned tolerance towards the tempted, pity for the erring, sympathy with the sorrowful, and, above all, loyalty to the Lord God Almighty, is usually one "that has seen affliction." There are few exceptions to this rule. Have you never witnessed the following occurrence ? On a midsummer's day the heat has been so intense as to overcome almost every one and every thing. Flowers droop their beautiful heads, plants languish, the grass gets dry and withered. Big drops stand upon your brow, and the air is so stifling that you feel as if you could hardly breathe. By and by a quick flash

of lightning starts from the black clouds overhead, pealing thunder shakes the very foundation of your house, and suddenly the rain descends in impetuous torrents. Your little child is terrified, and clings to you for protection. Flowers are spoiled, foliage and branches torn from trees, streams are changed into rivers, rivers flood lowlands, and valuable property is damaged, if not destroyed. But how healthful and delightful the atmosphere when all is over! it is a luxury to breathe! Everything looks fresh and vigorous; the furious tempest has regenerated nature. Very frequently the same may be said of our calamities and vexations; they purify the soul's atmosphere; we come out of them new creatures. Patience is indeed a difficult virtue, but, if we will cultivate it, we shall find it yields a grand harvest both of holiness and happiness. Our successive trials are but so many staves in a wonderful ladder, whose summit is lost in the very brightness of

heaven.

Man is largely dependent on man.

See! yonder is the medicinal pool; the water springs up fresh and abundant. Nevertheless, there is a poor fellow who, for thirty-eight years, has been afflicted, and although he lies close to the healing stream he is not any better for it. He might as well be miles and leagues away. How comes that to pass? "I have no man to put me into the pool." Ah, there it is! Striking thought, that although the means of restoration were so close at hand, they were absolutely useless for lack of one helper.

There is hardly a

pool" into which we can get alone. We need a man.' There is, to wit, the "pool" of health,. To be strong you must have food; but do you plough and sow, reap and gather into barns, grind and bake? You must have clothing, but "neither do ye spin." You must, when sick, have medicine; but are you always able to be your own doctor? You need in each case a "man." There is the "pool" of education. I cannot predict an eclipse; I cannot calculate distances from star to star; I cannot travel round the world to discover its wonders; neither are ancient tomes, documents, and volumes, pregnant with historic instruction, at my immediate command. I need some 66 man to do it for me. It is even thus spiritually. Humanity is divinely reached and blessed through humanity. "Faith cometh by hearing," and "hearing" necessitates a speaker.

As stones in a building rest one on another, we are all dependent on each other. The general is helpless without troops; the most skil ful engineer requires the brawny arm of the labourer; the greatest statesman must have subordinates. "The king himself is served by the field." The eminent apostle of the Gentiles speaks of "the mutual faith of you and me," and expects to be "comforted" by it. Sir Isaac Newton declared that if he saw farther than others it was by standing on the shoulders of giants. Pascal complains of authors speaking about "my book," "my commentary," "my history;" they ought rather to say our," for there is more in their works belonging

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to others than to themselves. To quote from Mr. Ruskin :-"Supposing half-a-dozen or a dozen men were cast ashore from a wreck on an uninhabited island, and left to their own resources, one of course, according to his capacity, would be set to one business, and one to another; the strongest to dig and to cut wood and to build huts for the rest; the most dexterous to make shoes out of bark and coats out of skins; the best educated to look for iron or lead in the rocks, and to plan the channels for the irrigation of the fields. But though their labours were thus naturally severed, that small group of shipwrecked men would understand well enough that the spediest progress was to be made by helping each other, not by opposing each other, and they would know that this help could only be properly given so long as they were frank and open in their relations." "Frank," indeed, should we all learn to be, and "open" in all our dealings, since it has pleased God to bind each to each in indestructible bonds of dependence. Heaven supplies earth's deficiencies.

"Another steppeth down before me," laments the poor invalid. True, but be of good cheer, oh, weary sufferer, for, lo! another now "steppeth before" thee, not to hinder, but to heal. Here is another, indeed, who will help when others do not. Fear not beacause thou hast " no man," for, behold, thou hast a better than any "man," even the divine Deliverer.

On a memorable occasion David said it was better "to fall into the hand of the Lord" than into "the hand of men." So it is; and what a blessing it is that we can fall into His hand when there is no "hand to save. Wherein our brethren come short, our Father will aid.

The Hebrews, captive in Babylon, mourn because they are absent from the temple: what then? "Yet will I be to them a little sanctuary." Jacob, exiled from home, found the desert to be "the house of God." He had fled from his father's door, but he discovered in the wilderness "none other than the gate of heaven." "At my first answer," writes Paul, "no man stood with me, but all men forsook me." Was he therefore quite friendless? No; "notwithstanding the Lord stood with me, and strengthened me." "When

my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." "I will be a father to the fatherless; I will be a husband to the widow."

When Christ said, "Wilt thou be made whole?" a very prompt reply followed; the impotent man was more than willing, he was eager, to be cured. This is characteristic. Few are careless about bodily blessings. Would that they were equally on the alert for spiritual good! Are you, my friend? The beneficent Healer stands by your side and offers His aid. Beware of spurning or neglecting it. Accept it, and when the sabbath of eternity dawns, you will be made" every whit whole on the sabbath day."

Colombo, Ceylon.

BOB'S TEMPTATION.

FOR THE BOYS.

THERE was never a boy who loved make an attempt to keep out of fun more than Bob Turner; and mischief and do well. For a day there was never a boy within or two he did do well- very well for my knowledge that was so con- him; and then, oh dear! I cannot stantly in disgrace and tribulation say what he did not do. He lost as the self-same Bob. Everybody all his holidays for a week; he was liked him, and everybody dreaded feruled times without number; in to have him around almost. His short, he was punished in every teachers liked him always, and yet conceivable way, and shed I cannot they blessed the day when he staid tell how many penitential tears. from school. As for his mother, what a life he led her! But not one of her other children, so steady and reliable, was so dear to her as Bob.

Such frantic efforts as he made to keep straight, and how they always ended in something worse than ever he had done before. The school managers made it a point to warn all new teachers of him, and so, of course, they warned Miss Willis when she took the school.

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Then came the managers, and recommended, almost in a form of command, that Bob be expelled: he was ruining the school.

"Just let me try him once more," she pleaded, and they finally yielded.

Bob brought her the next morning such a pretty bouquet of flowers from his own garden, and Miss Willis saw by his eyes he was just bubbling over with fun and frolic. But though all day he went from "If he does not do better soon," one piece of mischief to another, they said, we shall have to expel she said nothing to him. Only at him, though it will be a great sorrow night, just before she struck the bell to his mother, who is a poor widow." for close of school, she said quietly,— Miss Willis resolved inwardly "Robert, please remain. I would that Bob should never be expelled-like to see you for a few moments." and he was not. Now it happened on the first Monday she was there that Bob was the first one at school. "Good morning,' said Miss Willis, with a pleasant smile; and then she added, "you're Bob Turner, aren't you?"

"That's just what they call me; but how did you know it?" he answered, in surprise at first, then it came to him. "I suppose the managers told you what a bad boy I am, I guess.'

"But I don't believe it of you a bit," was the reply.

I don't know what Bob would not have been willing to give if he could have promised with any hope of success that she should have no trouble with him. But, though full of misgivings, he resolved to

Bob was terror-stricken. No one ever called him Robert unless something serious was impending. It seemed to him the scholars were never so long in getting away, nor had he ever seen Miss Willis's pleasant face so sober. Finally, how. ever, the last one disappeared. Bob wondered if Miss Willis could hear his heart beat.

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Robert, come here; I would like to talk with you," and she drew one of the arm-chairs by her on the platform for him.

What could it mean?

"Now, Robert, you know I am here teaching for the money they pay me, don't you? Yes, of course you do. But perhaps you do not not know that I have a little crip pled brother, and that the money I

Then he knelt down.

earn goes to pay a doctor for him. | always said "Our Father," but it No, you did not know it. Well, never seemed very real to him. such being the case, you must see "Now mother prays, why, just as that it is very important for me to if she felt it-I believe I will,” he keep my place. But the managers concluded after some time. will not keep me unless I can keep a good school. I cannot do that, can I, Bob, while one of my scholars, one of my smartest scholars, is all the time working against me, instead of being quiet and industrious, and helping me?"

Miss Willis paused. Bob sat speechless.

"What shall we do about it, Robert ? Will that scholar, do you suppose, be willing to help me to help my poor little brother?"

"Can't he walk a bit ?"

"No, not a step; and he suffers a great deal of pain; but the doctor thinks he can cure him, if I can pay him."

A long paused followed. If anything in the world seemed pitiable to Bob, it was a cripple. And to think one was at his mercy. Could he possibly keep the resolutions he had broken so many times, or must he go throngh life feeling that if it had not been for him perhaps this poor boy might have been made well and strong?

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'I'll help you-if-if it kills me," said Bob, springing to his feet in his excitement. "I will." Then, as he felt the hot tears in his eyes, he turned suddenly and went out.

To say that Bob dreaded school the next day is a very mild way of expressing it. He told his mother all about it he was in the habit of telling her all about everything. She did not say much, but just as he kissed her "good night," she said softly,

"Robbie, dear, don't you think you had better pray the Lord to help you? You know you've never been able to get along alone."

Bob went upstairs and sat down and thought. He had never prayed a prayer of his own. Of course he

"O Lord, I want to be good now to help that poor cripple. I can't do it alone any way, for I've tried. Please help me.' Then he lay down to sleep with all the dread

gone.

And the morrow came. All the morning he devoted himself to his lessons; he dared not trust himself to look around at all. No whispers, nudges, or expressive coughs tempted him to look up. In the afternoon it was harder yet, for he was tired from his unusual studiousness, He found it almost impossible to keep his eyes on his book.

May Potter sat just across the aisle from him. She was very busy over her arithmetic-her class recited next-and she was very anxious to keep her place at the head, but the last example would not come right. Now, Bob knew all about May's anxiety, for he and May were very, very good friends, and from where he sat he could see May's mistake. He leaned on his desk.