The voice utters a seasonable CAUTION. "Harden not your hearts," be not careless, do not delay-do not trifle with sin-think seriously, pray earnestly-decide promptly-leave the world-cleave to God-apply to the Holy Spirit to convince you of sin-to lead you to Jesus, to sprinkle you with His blood, clothe you with His righteousness, sanctify and make you meet for heaven. This is the work of the day, and remember,

"There is a time, and Justice marks the date,
For long-forbearing clemency to wait,
That hour elapsed, the incurable revolt

Is punished, and comes down the thunderbolt!!"

Your true and affectionate friend,

Penryn.

R. C.

MINISTERING TO CHRIST.

"And many women.... which followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering unto Him."-MATT. xxvii. 55.

Would that I could have followed the Saviour, in his weary march below,

And have soothed with tender devotion each feeling of want and woe.
Unweariedly I would have rendered glad service day by day-
For love has a tireless footstep as she hastes on her ardent way-
With woman's instinctive wisdom I would have supplied each need;
And have soothed His sorrowful spirit by many a loving deed.

His gentle and kind attendants-how oft have I envied them!
Far brighter their mission seemeth than a queen's fair diadem.
I would rather have shared their labours than have dwelt in a home
of state;

And their names have a richer lustre than the titles of the great.
Their memories have a glory which makes my life look dim-
Would that I could have followed the Saviour and have ministered to
Him!

Thy wish is sincere, O Christian; yet cherish it not, since He
Who guideth our steps hath appointed a different path for thee;

Besides, if thou wouldst have served Him when He traversed this

world of ours,

In lowliness, want, and sadness, with thy noblest and strongest powers, Oh, banish at once the shadow which has gathered across thy brow, And instead of those restless longings, arise, and follow Him now!

For since thou art in possession of that earnest and loving will, Which would once have studied Christ's welfare, thou canst minister to Him still;

How? where? Go seek the stranger, the orphan, the child of grief, The sick, the poor, and the comfortless, and give to them kind relief: And then listen to this sweet comment; "Inasmuch," saith Christ,

it as ye

Have done it to these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.”

H. M. W.

THE CUMBERERS.

CHAPTER I.

A FEW years ago, while staying at the sea-side, my parents renewed their acquaintance with some ladies, whom we will call the Misses Perkins. They were the daughters of a clergyman deceased, and had a slender competence, on which they not only kept up a creditable appearance, but were charitable and useful.

It happened that, shortly before returning home, my parents remarked, in presence of these ladies, that they had intended to leave me behind for a time, because my health was delicate; but that some change of plan prevented the family with whom I was to have been domesticated from receiving me.

Hereupon significant looks passed between the sisters, and the next day a note arrived, which set forth, that though the Misses Perkins were not in the habit of receiving boarders, far from it, yet on this occasion they should be happy to step out of their usual path, and accommodate the daughter of their old friend.

Accordingly, I was sent to their house, and the ladiesthat is, some of them-took care that I should derive all the benefit that care and kindness could secure to me of the sea air for which I stayed. At the same time, they afforded me certain grounds for speculation, and opened out to me certain doubts, which frequently occupy my mind to this day.

I have often thought, how much in our dealings with our

fellow-creatures we receive which is "not in the bond." Their influence is always at work upon us, their accidental remarks change the current of our thoughts.

The Misses Perkins covenanted to provide me with sea air, and, besides that, they provided me with many speculations on human life; on the Providence which throws certain characters together; the changes they are intended to work on one another; the place each is fitted to fill in this world; the reason why some are privileged to be almost always helpers, while others are suffered to be uniformly hinderers; and the cause why some, as it seems, are compelled to exert themselves so much, while others, it is evident, are determined to do so little.

But did the Misses Perkins intend to teach me all this? Certainly not; they were by no means metaphysical in their turn of mind and conversation. They were not given to abstract speculation. They never talked of the object of life, or of their missions. They had agreed that I should have sea air, and I had it.

And now I will just describe to you the Misses Perkins, their characters and occupations; and you shall see whether it was not natural that I should have cogitated on them a little.

The three elder were the daughters of a first marriage, and appeared to be from forty to forty-three years of age; the two younger were the children of a second marriage: the elder was twenty-five and the younger twenty-three years of age.

Miss Perkins was a tall, bony woman, very plain, but with a charming kind of cheerfulness and activity about her. She kept the house; and half its comfort, and nearly all its super fluities, certainly arose from this circumstance. Assuredly she was not intellectual, but her love of order, economy, and regularity made her a very useful person. And I saw, that if she were to die, her sisters, independently of their affection for her, would miss her sorely from their household.

She was somewhat garrulous, and fond of describing her day's occupations to me.

"You see, my dear," she would begin, "I always go out directly after breakfast, because I cannot order dinner till I have been to the fishmonger's and the butcher's. Things vary very much in price, and it behoves me to buy what is both good and cheap. It would never do to send Mary, who is no judge, and just say, 'Buy soles,' or 'Buy whiting;' because just that day those particular fish might be both stale and dear, while cod was plentiful. No; I just look about me for myself; and if all is dear, why I take none, but go off to the

butcher, and get a larger joint of meat, and perhaps make up with a fruit pie. And there again, you know, servants have no discretion. If I were to say, Mary, go and buy damsons for a pie,' she would get them, though they were scarce and stale, and never think to tell me that apples were plentiful. No, my dear, depend on it, where the income is as limited as ours is, a great deal depends on seeing after everything one's self. It takes up a good deal of time, but I like them to have a good and plentiful table. I don't like any stinting, or to have Amelia complain of the butter or the fruit, or say the tradespeople cheat us."

"Certainly, that would not be pleasant," I would remark. "Not at all pleasant, my dear," she would reply, "so you see I have plenty to do; for I always make the pie-crust myself, Mary not being much of a cook. Indeed, we could not expect her to be, at the wages we give her. Her crusts are heavy. Well, all that pretty nearly takes up my morning; for between ourselves I very often wash the tea-things, shell peas, and do little things of that kind, so that all may go on quietly, and meals be ready at the right time; for I like them to have everything comfortable. And but for this kind of help, I assure you we should not be nearly so comfortable as we are."

I could easily believe this, and Miss Perkins said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world that she should like these various occupations, as they added to the comfort of others.

So much for the eldest Miss Perkins. She might, perhaps, have been called a twaddle in society, but in her own sphere she was useful and beloved; and moreover, by her economy and good marketing, she saved enough to add greatly to the comfort of several poor old women and sickly children, in whose behoof I often saw very savoury-looking messes carried out, smoking hot, in little tin cans, with slices of bread laid on the top, by way of lids. Her name was Robina, and her youngest sister called her "Bobby."

The second sister, Miss Ann, was a particularly ladylike woman. She had delicate health, and required to be very much in the open air. She also, as I soon saw, had a decided line of usefulness. She undertook almost the entire management of the garden.

It was really a very good-sized garden, and was quite as full of scarlet geraniums, heliotropes, and all the gayer kinds of tender plants, as the gardens of the wealthy neighbours.

Miss Ann, I understood, took great pains to nurse young plants through the winter, keeping them in sunny windows

and in a dry store-room. And it was surprising to see how, every day, she conscientiously went out, and worked among her flower-beds; regularly setting herself a certain task, and doing it as a duty. She had no help, excepting that a little boy came once a week to weed the walks. And I observed that she by no means confined herself to the care of the flowers, but cultivated beet-root, lettuces, and all kinds of vegetables.

66 we

"You see, my dear," Miss Robina remarked to me, could not afford to keep a man: it would not pay us, but all that Ann can raise is pure gain; for we save seeds, and exchange cuttings with our neighbours. The flower-garden costs nothing, and besides being a pleasure to us all, it now looks creditable and cheerful; and if Ann did not spend her mornings in it, it must run to waste, for neither Sarah nor I have time to attend to it. And you know it would be very disheartening to us to live in a wilderness; it would affect our spirits. Now I say that Providence fits us beautifully for our several spheres: for Ann is able to sit in-doors very little; but, by taking the garden under her care, she provides herself with occupation, and prevents herself from feeling that she is of no use. She keeps us always gay and neat, and besides, without robbing the garden of more flowers than we can well spare, she gives away as many every season to a poor orphan that we befriend, as she can sell to the visitors for as much as clothes her. You must have observed Ann's violet bed, my dear."

"Yes;" I told her that I had done so, and noticed how carefully they were watered and weeded.

Miss Robina smiled. "Ann calls them her charity purse,' she replied. "Those autumn violets are very much liked by the visitors. Ann found it rather a burden to her, when first we came here, to spend so much time in the garden, but she was determined to go through with it, because it seemed a duty; and now she likes it very much. I don't know what we should do without her, I am sure; for I don't know anything more melancholy than living in a garden full of weeds; and Amelia, who is so subject to low spirits, often complains as it is, when Ann goes out, or is ill, so that the place gets a little disorderly."

So much for the second sister: let me now introduce you to the third.

Of Miss Sarah Perkins it might certainly be affirmed, that neither in person, voice, nor manner was she an attractive individual. Excepting when she took her daily walk, she was almost always seated near a window, at work. She