no means were found effectual for her recovery; and our dear adopted child died in the faith of Jesus.' The narrator paused, and then, to the question 'Have you her likeness anywhere?' he replied, placing his hand with emotion on his bosom, 'I have it only here;' but pointing to a little volume on the table, he said, 'that was her own Bible, the book she loved and read.'

The writer was left in the room to prepare for the near approaching service of the pulpit. He had never known this youthful disciple of the Saviour; there was no likeness of her that he could look upon; but the little Bible she had loved and pondered was still upon the table. He took it up, and thought how very gracious God had been to her; how kindly he had spoken to her in that little book; how determined in his mercy he had been that that dear bereaved one should not remain an orphan, having found her first an earthly parent, and having afterwards become a Father to her himself. Then, kneeling alone, he gave thanks to God on her behalf for the salvation she had found, and then on his own, that his poor service had been instrumental in her obtaining it. Now all that is especially pleasing in this short history results from the great facts that Jesus died for us, and rose again—his resurrection demonstrating the efficacy of his dying, and furnishing us, in cases such as that we have described, with a blessed hope, a hope not for others only, but also for ourselves."

THE SAVIOUR'S INVITATION.

BY THE REV. THOMAS GOADBY, B.A., COVENTRY.

(To the music of "Weep not for me.")

WHEN the day of life is dawning,
Come, come to me;

In the heart's fresh early morning,
Come, come to me;

While thine eye with hope is beaming,
While thy soul of Heaven is dreaming,
And its light is round thee streaming,
Come, come to me!

Ere the cares of earth oppress thee,
Come, come to me;

Ere life's woes and wants distress thee,
Come, come to me;

While thy bosom feels no sorrow,

Throbs with bliss man cannot borrow,

Dreads no dim uncertain morrow,

Come, come to me!

Ere sin's tainted touch defile thee,
Come, come to me;

Ere the world's false joys beguile thee,
Come, come to me:

While the dew of youth is on thee,
While God's smile still rests upon thee,
Ere the tempter's power has won thee,
Come, come to me!

When the day of life is dawning,
Come, come to me;

In the heart's fresh early morning,
Come, come to me;

Ere earth's sickly pleasure palleth,
Ere one shade of sorrow falleth,
List to that sweet voice that calleth,
Come, come to me!"

66

'TIS NOT TOO LATE.

BY MRS. J. C. WESTBROOK.

'Tis not too late, poor wanderer! for thou art young in years; 'Tis not too late to turn to God with penitence and tears; "Tis not too late to wash thy soul in Jesus' cleansing blood; "Tis not too late to seek and find pardon and peace with God. 'Tis not too late, poor erring one, thy footsteps to retrace; 'Tis not too late to turn from sin and all its foul disgrace; 'Tis not too late by watchful prayer thy good name to retrieve; 'Tis not too late to comfort those who o'er their lost one grieve. 'Tis not too late: behold and see, the pitying Saviour stands; 'Tis not too late for Him to free thy soul from satan's bands; 'Tis not too late, oh! listen to His gentle pleading voice,

'Why will ye die ?" turn, sinner! turn, and angels will rejoice.
By thy fond parents' yearning love, their many sighs and tears,
By every hope that yet may gild the path of future years,
Oh! listen now to mercy's call, its warnings do not spurn,
And to the only path of peace, poor wanderer, return.

Forsake, forsake, from this sad time, the wretched ways of sin;
Hast thou not found them hard to tread ? no longer walk therein.
It is not words, nor groans, nor tears, that can repentance prove;
Actions alone must testify true penitence and love.

One said, "I go;" the other "went "-'twas he obeyed his Lord;
To both the Master's will was known, but one fulfilled His word;
There cannot be on any soul a deeper, darker blot

Than knowing well the Lord's command, and yet performing not.
Then listen to the Saviour's voice, and shun the sinner's way;
Judgment condemns thy guilty soul, let mercy be its stay:
Now, now is the accepted time-Oh! do not longer wait,
Lest ere another setting sun, it may be found too late!

THE INVENTION OF PRINTING.

FROM various causes it is a difficult, if not impossible task, to assign and apportion to the proper parties the honour of the invention. "It is wonderful," remarks Lemoine, "but it is true, that the only art which can record all others, should almost forget itself." The common opinion is, that John Guttenberg, of Mayence, or Mentz, about the year 1483, discovered printing, as we

now understand that term. "The invention," to quote from Coxe's History of the House of Austria, "was at first rude and simple, consisting, as I have already described to you, of whole pages, carved on blocks of wood, and only impressed on one side of the leaf; the next step was the formation of moveable types in wood, and they were afterwards cut in metal, and finally rendered more durable, regular, and elegant, by being cast or founded." He then continues, 'A controversy has arisen concerning the first discoverer of the art of printing, between the three towns of Haarlem, Mentz, and Strasburgh, each from a natural partiality attributing it to its own countryman. The dispute, however, has turned rather on words than facts, and seems to have arisen from the different definitions of the word printing. If we estimate the discovery from the invention of the principle, the honour is unquestionably due to Laurence Koster, a native of Haarlem, who first found the method of impressing characters on paper, by means of carved blocks of wood. If moveable types be considered as a criterion, the merit of the discovery is due to John Guttenberg, of Mentz, and Shoeffer, in conjunction with Fust, was the first who founded types of metal. The modern improvement of stereotype printing may be considered as a recurrence to the first and simple principles of the art."

One

Guttenberg settled at Strasburg, about the year 1435, and entered into partnership with several citizens of that town, binding himself to teach them some secrets which would make their fortune. of these citizens, in whose house they had their workshop, died, and Guttenberg sent to the brother of the deceased, requesting that due care might be taken that the secret should not be discovered. This warning was unavailing. The forms had been carried off, and a dissolution of the partnership and a law-suit were the consequence. Guttenberg then removed to Mentz, where he formed another partnership with John Fust, or Faust, an opulent citizen, who advanced the requisite capital. After many experiments they printed in 1450, the Latin Bible, with large cut metal types. The expenses of this work were very large, and Guttenberg, not being ready with his proportion of them, was sued by Fust, and had a decision given against him. The partnership was, of course, dissolved, and the whole of the printing apparatus fell into the hands of Fust, who continued the business, with the assistance of Peter Shaffer, or Gernsheim, a young man of some ability. Shoeffer is supposed to have invented punches for striking the matrices of the types, and for this was rewarded with

the hand of Fust's only daughter. Fust is often confounded with Faust the magician, who is represented by the German lovers of the marvellous, as having conjured up the devil, descended into hell, and travelled amongst the celestial spheres. Fust, the printer of Mentz, and Faust, the magician of Weimar, were, however, very different persons, and the printer came to be taken for the magician, because there seemed to be a spice of magic in his art. In the year 1460, a person, who offered for sale a number of Bibles which resembled each other so closely, that it was not believed they could have been produced by human skill, was tried for witchcraft!

The conclusion generally come to is, that to Guttenberg is due the high appellation of the Father of Printing; to Shaffer, that of the Father of Letter-Founding; and to Fust, that of the generous Patron, by whose means this wonderful discovery, the nurse and preserver of the arts and sciences, was so rapidly brought to perfection.

The engraving represents the Statue of Guttenberg in the Great Square at Mentz.

REMAINS OF PAGANISM IN IRELAND.

Ir has often been observed that popery, instead of rooting out paganism, either adopts the superstitions of idolatrous nations, or mixes its own with theirs. This may often be seen in Ireland. Here is an instance. A Lady says

More than twenty years ago I went to Ireland to visit a friend who resided on the coast of Galway bay. The place commanded an extensive view of "that unploughed, untrodden shore;" and, towards the west of the wide Atlantic. In the centre of the mouth of Galway bay is a group of islands called the South Arran Isles. As these bold, barren rocks lay before me in the blue distance, I could not but admire their rugged outline, the ocean billows sometimes beating against their shores and crowning them with wreaths of foam. I was told that in their crevices bright spots of vegetation were to be seen, studded with a variety of wild flowers. But it seemed to me that this beauty of nature had failed to attract much attention to these lonely islands, or to the primitive race who inhabited them; and their fellow-subjects on the mainland spoke of them with derision as being completely uncivilized. Some idea of the outward appearance of these long-neglected people may be formed by learning that, at that time, the use of a needle and thread was unknown to them, so whatever they wore had to be procured