THE PENNY POST BOX. greater sacrifice? You can ask a favour of a neighbour; to do the same thing with God is prayer; and he greatly mistakes, who thinks that the best prayer is that clothed in the most fluent language.' The old man was affected, said he knew that it was so, and then gave an account of his feelings and practice in this respect since the commencement of his christian course. The father's expression gave encouragement to hope that the suggestion would not be in vain. On the day following, before leaving, the son mentioned the scene of the previous evening to the minister of the place, who took an opportunity to add his influence to what had been said, and it proved effectual. The good man whose voice, though for forty years a professed christian and a father, had never been heard in prayer by his children, at the age of threescore years and ten commenced the discharge of that duty in his family, and, so far as I know, never ceased until the infirmities of age rendered it impossible for him longer to perform it. His children, ten in number, have since professed the religion of Jesus Christ." The Penny Post Box. LAST WORDS. I HAVE lately been reading a collection of the last words of eminent persons, most of which are expressive of their ruling passion, strong even in death. Keats, the poet."I am better; I feel as if the daisies were growing over me." Haller, the physician, when feeling his own pulse, "The artery is ceasing to beat.' Napoleon muttered something about his being the "Head of the army." Sir James Mackintosh." Jesus Christ, Love, the same thing. Happy!" Goethe, the philosopher." Let the light enter." Henry VIII.-"Monks, Monks, Monks!" Edward VI.-"Lord, take my spirit." Queen Elizabeth.-" All I have for a moment of time." Cardinal Beaufort.-"What! is there no bribing death ?" The learned Grotius.- "Be serious." George Washington.-"It is well." Adams." Independence for ever!" John Quincy Adams.-"It is the last of earth." Bishop Ken.-"God's will be done !" Parkhurst.-"I have peace." FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY. Burkitt.-"Come, Lord Jesus!" George IV., as they lifted him up, "This is death." Oliver Cromwell."I am safe." James, Earl of Derby.-"Let the whole earth be filled with his glory!" Heylyn.-"I go to my God and Saviour." Hooker." My days are passed as a shadow." Mozart the musician.- "Let me hear those notes again.' Sir Philip Sydney.- "In me behold the end of this world's vanities." An aged Minister.-"Christ is with me. Now Death strike !" John Wesley.—“The best of all is, God is with us.” I could have given many more; but these perhaps will suffice at present. SELECTOR. Facts, Hints, Gems, and Poetry. Facts. THE FORMER DAYS. WERE they better than these? Go back for about one hundred years, and see and judge for yourselves. 1. The public roads were almost impassable in winter, and infested by foot-pads and horse-robbers. 2. The streets of only a few towns were lighted, very badly, by oil-lamps. Villages were not lighted at all. 3. Our vast manufactures of cotton, silk, and wool, had scarcely commenced. 4. Our enormous mineral treasures of coal and iron were almost undisturbed. 5. There were no railroads, electric telegraphs, penny post, or penny newspapers; and no gas, or self-igniting matches. 6. Free trade was not dreamed of, and sanitary regulations were almost entirely neglected. 7. The villages were generally without schools for poor children. There were no sabbath schools. 8. There was very little preaching of Christ's holy gospel; and no Missionary or Bible Societies. 9. The poor were in a miserable plight; and there were very few asy lums for orphans or idiots. Hospitals and Infirmaries were very scarce. 10. Books and songs of an indecent character were common; Bibles and good books were both scarce and expensive. Were those days better than these? Hints. PROPER WORDS, woven together in proper places, form the most suitable dress in which proper thoughts should appear. TRUTH CANNOT BE PUT OUT. It passes from mind to mind with renewed light, shining with increasing brightness as it advances. TIME IS AN ISTHMUS, a narrow neck of land between the two boundless oceans of Eternity-past and to come. VANITY.-He or she who has the most of this silly folly, has the least of common-sense wisdom. FACTS, HINTS, GEMS, AND POETRY. THERE IS NO MAN, however humble his position, whose example has no influence for good or evil. SOME PEOPLE spend more time in trying to conceal their faults than they do in trying to correct them. But which after all would be the easier task? FEAR IS A HEAVY TAX levied on the guilty conscience of one who knows that he has done wrong. FALSE FRIENDSHIP, like our own shadow, keeps close to us in sunshine, but vanishes when clouds pass over us. WE OFTEN SUFFER MORE in expectation of trouble than we do when it really comes. THE VEIL which covers the face of the future from our view is hung there by the hand of a Merciful Providence. Gems. NEVER ENTERTAIN hard thoughts of God; for if you think that he would have pleasure in your ruin, you will damp out all love to him in your own soul. YOU NEVER CAN HAVE too high thoughts of the love of God in Christ WERE GOD TO MAKE me the supreme ruler of the earth, and place all its riches and honours at my disposal, were he then to withhold his love from me, I should be a poor miserable restless and blighted thing! ON THE OTHER HAND, were I poorer than the poorest, and weaker than the weakest, so long as I feel that God loves me and I love him, I shall be richer than the richest and stronger than the strongest. WE ONLY LIVE so long as we live in the love of God. Life without love is only a living death. But death will usher the christian into a new life of love for ever! Poetic Selections. I HEARD a voice which said, Who rest in Jesus, all their sorrows o'er! And with the angel band They soar and sing, and sing for evermore." And then I heard a cry Of mortal agony, to your soul; it is higher than the A voice of wailing o'er the grassy bed, highest, deeper than the deepest, wider than the widest, and more vast than eternity. THE MORE WE LOVE GOD the more we shall desire to love Him; our appetite will grow by what it feeds upon; but we shall never be fully satisfied until we wake up in his likeness. WHAT A HAPPY LIFE would ours be if we could love our Saviour as much as we would; could we be like Him, all love and always loving. Where one, whose narrow life And laid in peaceful rest her weary head. "O cease your grief," I said, No When she you love is blest, more to suffer, and no more to roam? O blind and selfish love, Which asks that those above AS THE BUSY BEE dives into the Might share again our mortal toil and strife; flower to suck out its sweetness, and as the babe in its mother's arms draws out the sweet food from her breast, so should we desire to feed on the sweetness of the love of God. Far better might we say, That blessed is the day Which called them hence away, And op'ed to them the gates of endless life!" V. G. R. THE CHILDREN'S CORNER. The Children's Corner. PARENTAL REMEMBRANCES. BY THE FATHER OF TWO BELOVED CHILDREN. OUR DEPARTED ONES. TWELVE months and more have passed | Well we remember what they thought away Since our dear children died— Well we remember every smile To whom they looked, to whom they fled, And triumph'd over death. Well we remember how they prayed, And how they valued prayer; On whom alone their trust was stayed, On whom they cast their care. A HOME In view of all their sin; How they rejoiced when they were brought To feel sweet peace within. Well we remember their concern That we should meet above; That each should taste, and see, and learn The Saviour's wondrous love. Well we remember that sweet calm Which death could not destroy; It was, and is, a healing balm To turn our grief to joy. Prepare us, Lord, to meet in heaven, "I'M GOING HOME." Where strife can never enter, A HOME Where every voice is pleasant, Where every joy is holy, And every face is bright; Where saints are full of glory, And clothed in spotless white. A HOME Where we shall meet no tempter; Where sin can never come; Where no disease can enter, No tear, no sigh, no moan. A HOME Where all sad scenes have vanished, Like war, and want, and woe; And death itself is banished, That last of foes below. A HOME Where love's redeeming story— In strains before unknown Is sung by saints in glory, In their eternal home! THE PURITAN PREACHER. THE hateful custom of calling nicknames cannot be too severely condemned. No man who wishes to maintain a character for fair dealing will resort to such mean and dastardly conduct; only those whose cowardice is as great as their malice will take up such a dirty weapon when all other means of doing mischief have failed. We have reasons for hoping that all well-meaning people are getting more and more ashamed of this hateful custom. But it is not dead yet, neither do we expect it will die until men and women are brought to regard "Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you." Haters of all real religion have always been the most ready to do this dirty work for their master the devil, Two hundred years ago in England all those pious men who desired to live in the fear and love of God were nicknamed puritans, as one hundred years ago they were nicknamed methodists. But they were noble men, those puritans. Lord Macaulay said, "The Puritans were perhaps the most remarkable body of men which the world ever produced." But they were only one body in serving God, for they were of various denominations. Their numerous writings have been esteemed, and perhaps ever will be, as next in value to the word of God itself. But it is not of a puritan writer we wish to tell you; it is of a puritan preacher. SAMUEL ANNESLEY was born in Warwickshire in 1620. His pious grandmother, who died a few days before he was born, desired his mother, if her child should be a boy, to call him Samuel, for said she, "I have asked him of the Lord." He was the only son of his mother, and his father dying when he was four years old, she was careful to bring up the boy Samuel in the knowledge of religion. While yet young he knew that his parents had devoted him to God for the work of the ministry, and his own desires were in that direction. He was fonder of reading than playing, especially the Bible, of which he always read twenty chapters every day, and this same plan he pursued to the end of his long life. Suffering for religion was common in those evil days in England, and from a child he thought he should have to suffer and perhaps die for it. He was sent to college, where he made great progress. In |