There is much simplicity in the character of the "Readers." A journeyman mason told the author of the book, "Lüseriets Historia," how he obtained a good and pious wife. He had been employed in building the church of N. one summer. Every evening, after the day's work was over, he went up into the organ-loft, apart from the other workmen, and falling upon his knees, prayed God for a good and God-fearing wife.

One came into his mind whom he had seen at a meeting, and who had made a deep impression on his heart. He went to her, begged to speak with her; and this happened the day she had something to do in the brewhouse. She thought that he, who was much her senior, wanted to say something to her in the way of advice; for she had a stern and severe father, who at all times despised and persecuted the "Readers."

Nothing we have ever read, in the form of religious courtship, equals in simplicity the dialogue-the bona fide dialogue that then ensued. After some conversation on indifferent matters, he asked her,

"Hast thou any love?"

She. "Say thyself; hast thou any love?"
He. "That I shall not tell."

She. "Neither shall I tell thee whom I hold dear." He. "We shall draw lots, then, who shall tell the other first."

She. "Be it so."

The journeyman mason took what he first found in his pocket, a handkerchief, and a “little Kempis." He. "The one that draws Kempis shall answer first; right hand or left ?"

She. "Right hand.”

It was the lot she should answer first, but that she would not yet do. "You must answer," he said at length, "our compact was made before God and in His presence."

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She blushed deeply and said, "Then I am fond of thee; I cannot say it. It-it is-thee!"

He. "Then I am fond of thee; I can say it, for I have prayed God for her. It is-thee!"

The next morning he opened the business to her father, but was met with a decided Nay. "No daughter of mine shall I ever give to a Reader: besides, you are poor and have neither stick nor straw."

We pursue the tale no further than to state that the father ultimately relented, and the couple were made happy. The mason regarded the issue as the fruit of prayer.

The Readers do not appear to hold any peculiar or settled dogmas. They act, they say, on the advice of the apostle," to prove all things, and to hold fast that which is good." They appear to be fond of religious controversy, and their intimate knowledge of the contents of the Bible gives them great advantage over an opponent.

Specimens of the hymns they use are presented to us. They are more devout than elegant-perhaps some of the verses are a little extravagant; but we have met with some more extravagant, nearer home than Norrland. We must now take leave of the Readers. Remonstrances on their behalf have been addressed to the Swedish clergy by the Protestants of France; and we are led to hope that these good citizens and pious Christians will receive no further molestation.

C. G.

THE OLD NORTH WIND.

THE wind, the wind, the old north wind,
He comes from the hills to-day;

And aye, as he raceth across the plain,
He singeth a merry lay.

In a rough bass voice sings the old north wind,
The noisy boisterous wind.

The wind, the wind, the old north wind,
Through the woods he darteth now,

And the silver birch courtesies low to him,
And the poplars gravely bow;

They are glad to see the old north wind,
The gladsome, blithe north wind.

Listen again to the old north wind,
He flieth across the waves,

And they lift their heads to meet his kiss,
And the sea nymphs peep from their caves
To see the pranks of the old north wind,
The dancing, frolicsome wind.

Look at him now, the old north wind,
He filleth the swelling sail

Of the ship that speeds on her homeward way;

And her crew delight in the gale,

And are glad because of the old north wind,

The swift winged, strong north wind.

But hearken now to the old north wind,

His

song hath changed to a sigh,

For he turneth down a noisome lane,

Where the fever-stricken lie;

But its horrors fright not the old north wind, The steady, faithful wind.

For to cleanse that fetid lane

Is part of his work to-day,

And he battleth well with effluvia fell,
And scareth them from their prey;

And the sick folk bless the old north wind,

The bracing, healthful wind.

Be thankful, then, for the old north wind
Who hath served the world so long;
Who healeth the sick, and cheereth the sad,
With the breath of his pleasant song.

Be thankful to Him who sends the wind,
The glorious old north wind.

FRANCES MARY.

FAITH.

THE more universal the truth the greater its simplicity. A truth absolute in its universality is of necessity absolute in its simplicity. Fundamental principles only show us one side of their existence. They say to us: Here we are, you can see us if you will. That is the side that is turned to us. But don't ask why they are, because they will never tell you. They cannot if they would. That is the side that is turned from us.

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"What must I do to be saved? is not the cry one soul alone, but of all sincere and thoughtful souls. It is also the great cry of the ages. Here am I, a soul that has strayed from the fold of truth. I find myself out of the ways that are eternal. I have forsaken the great principles of existence. I am crosswise and athwart the great currents of life, therefore I am not at one with God. I am undone and in the path of death. What shall I do?" The answer to such a soul is the only answer possible to every such

inquiry. In all ages with more or less distinctness it has found voice and words of utterance. But once for all was it spoken by Paul: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Once more, here is the way, because here is the truth. The wayfaring man though unlettered need not err herein. You have only to look with the single eye and it is evident. Christ is the life. Read the pages of your New Testament, and word for word listen to the echoes that answer in the recesses of your own consciousness. "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." For me the life is manifest. I have seen it and tasted and handled of the Living One. I want no other proof. Man doesn't believe unto salvation with the brain. The faith that justifies is the faith of the heart, not of the intellect.

Don't be foolish, now, and tell me that after all we may be mistaken-after all, our eyes, our ears, our hands may have deceived us. Why you know you don't refuse a cup of tea at your neighbour's, the apothecary's, on the probability of its containing poison. So long as faith isn't sight, you can't have absolute certainty; but faith is to you the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Faith is the golden chain that binds the seen and the unseen. You can only see this end of it, you must wait before you see the other. If you will look only to the side you cannot understand, if you will stand peering out into the dark beyond, you may thank your own wilfulness that you can see nothing. When the veil is rent and the personal 1 mingles with the solemn I am that I am, these questionings may be set at rest. At present, like exiles from their native land, who turn their tearful and longing gaze to the distant horizon where lies their fatherland, we look over the sea, with hearts whose pulsation is hope, for the appearance of the land that is very far off. We know not what we shall