granted them, and they were happy in waiting. So happy, that Alice enjoyed preparing some little surprise for the children next day, as it had long been their custom to make much of New Year's Day. But Mark and Gipsey, guessing her intention, determined to be even with her in the matter of surprises, and, after due consultation, decided on seeking their mother's leave to explore a very out-of-reach old cupboard, situated on the top of a larger one in their former nursery. "What for?" inquired Mrs. Beverly.

"Oh, please don't ask, mamma dear, because we're going to fill a gouty stocking full of fun for Alcy's St. Claus tomorrow, and it's a great secret."

"Just like a girl!" sneered Mark; “blabbing without knowing it."

At this moment, as the children ran off, Alice entered, looking deadly pale, and holding a letter, which was a courteous but earnest appeal for payment from Mark's schoolmaster, who pleaded great distress, or he would gladly have waited for his money.

"He must have it, my dear; we have just enough left; it is not ours if we owe it; if we keep it from him, how can we have face to ask God for more?"

This settled the matter, and the widow's cruse was again almost empty.

Meanwhile the work at the cupboard progressed. Mark had reached it by a process of climbing from chair-back to chair-back, and now, standing inside the store of rubbish, was busily flinging down odds and ends of all sorts and shapes. Every now and then a bounce, followed by laughter, would alternately make their mother start, and then echo their mirth, glad they had found so innocent and cheap an amusement. A sudden pause in the noise overhead made her listen anxiously to discover the reason, when presently Mark's rough poll intruded.

"Mother, can we come in ?"

And in came the children, hauling between them a monster stocking, crammed to its utmost.

"Oh, such jolly fun!" cried Mark; "won't Alcy split over it, that's all !"

"I think the poor stocking is likelier to," laughed Mrs. Beverly. "But whatever have you there?"

"No end of queer things," replied Mark; then, as if suddenly struck by a bright idea, he cried, "Oh, Gipsey, let's put some real mustard in it; 'twill make her sneeze!" "Mustard into the stocking?" said Mrs. Beverly. "No, no, mother!" screamed both children at once. into a dirty old mustard-pot we found in the cupboard." "Mustard-pot! let me see it directly."

“No;

An accession of pallor might have been observed spreading over Mrs. Beverly; but Mark and Gipsey thought only of the fun of turning out their stocking.

"There, that's the old thing!"

And Mark gave his mother a heavy metal pot, lined with blue glass.

"Look, she's faint again!" whispered Gipsey, as, with a gasping movement, Mrs. Beverly said,

"Try to recollect exactly where and how you found this? Now, think before you speak."

""Twas just shied up at the top cupboard, as if I'd tossed it up in a hurry," said Mark.

"And 'twas wrapped in this, and tied with this," cried Gipsey, showing an old sleeve and a bonnet-string, which her mother recognised as having belonged to a nurse who, shortly after her husband's death, had been discharged for theft.

"I see it all," she murmured; the wretched woman threw it up there in desperation when her boxes were being searched."

"Oh, only just look, Mark! 'tisn't so ugly after all; that spot where mamma has rubbed it is quite like silver!" exclaimed Gipsey.

And silver it indeed was-rich, solid silver; and presently the "dirty old thing" astonished the children by its beauty— such beauty as would have made the mouth of a connoisseur water for its rarity and antiquity.

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Come, Alcy; come quick!" shouted Gipsey over the stairs. "Kind St. Claus has sent in his present to-day instead of to-morrow."

Alice flew upstairs, for she knew by her little sister's eager voice something strange had occurred. Her first glance was at her mother's flushed cheek, the next at the curious thing in her hand; a third was unnecessary-the nautilus-shaped vessel explained itself. It was the long-lost treasure-THE MUSTARD-POT!

"Found at last!" was all she could say; then, taking it up, she kissed it tenderly, crooning to it the while, " Dear little thing! I'm glad you've been found; you shall be kept bright now, for father's sake. Mamma, I'm so glad we didn't sell it."

"My 'vice is never to sell it till next time, and then, p'raps, God won't let next time come at all," sententiously propounded Gipsey.

And she was right; the treasured relic was kept, and the dreaded next time never came. This was how and why. The little girl was closely examining the pot to find out how the glass inside could be moved, as Alice had spoken of Mr. Beverly's request, that if ever they were obliged to sell it, they must be sure to remove the blue glass, and keep that as a family memorial; but, unable to discover the spring that moved it, she asked Alice to show her, on which the latter placed her thumb over a richly-chased circle underneath, and pressed it gently upwards with a rotatory movement, when the glass pushed gradually above the surface until it could be easily removed.

"Dear, careful father! See, mother, there's paper laid at the bottom to keep it steady." On drawing out the first fold, she exclaimed, "Here's a bit of his own dear writing: 'Be careful for nothing; but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. Dear ones, ever remember this-you can never want whilst you have a Father in heaven who cares for you.—C.B.””

Alice pursed up her mouth to hide how near she was to

crying; but tears were startled away by the children's exclamation-for both of them knew bank-notes when they saw them

"Oh, mother! Alcy, look here!"

And Mark folded smooth out three notes unitedly valuing £50!

when he bade us remove Dear darling, of course he

"Why, this is what he meant the glass before selling the pot! knew when we found the money our need for selling would be over. Oh, mother, I feel like laughing and crying both together!" half sobbed Alice.

But Mrs. Beverly gently replied, "Let us do better than either; let us praise God. That money has just been waiting for us till we really wanted it."

"Yes; but only to think of its being in the house all this while, and we never knew it!"

"Ah, my child, our mercies are often nearer than we imagine, but we do not take the right means to find them— it is our own fault sometimes when we cannot discover where they are."

"But, mother, we may take it as a gift from God, mayn't we? for it might have stayed for ever in that cupboard, or been thrown into the dust-heap as rubbish if you hadn't seen it."

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pleasure.

Mrs. Beverly's eyes brightened with Mayn't we! Of course we may. That little pot is like a bank that has paid its dividends when all thought it hopelessly broken."

Dear reader, how is it with you this New Year's Day? What is your care or sorrow? Take all to your Heavenly Father, and tell Him each trouble; plead with Him for Jesus' sake, and you will not come empty away. Remember the prayer of to-day is the praise of to-morrow; remember it, and you will be sure of

A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The Clock of Time.

FOR THE NEW YEAR.

HE Clock of Time has struck twelve, and the old year is past and gone-it is gone for ever. Soon will the stroke of the last hour of life tell us,

"Time with you is past; all that remains is eternity." Nor will it be long ere the angel will lift his hand and swear: Time shall be no longer; because the judgment is come, and the earth, and the works that are therein, shall be burned up.

Should we not at this solemn moment of our existence look back on the past year and ask, "How has it been spent?" Life is made up of years, and that which is now gone has helped to give a character to our existence, and has borne testimony for us, or against us, at the bar of God. What have the fleeting hours and days told concerning the use we have made of them?

A new year is now opening upon many, through the mercy of Him who said, "Let it alone this year also," when justice had said, "Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground?" Should not new thoughts pour in upon us with the dawn of another era of life?

"A happy new year to you," says the friend who now addresses you. But will you be content with the commonplace salutation, without stretching your thoughts beyond a year of time, into the boundless ocean of eternity, to which years are bearing us with swift and irresistible course? For the year on which we have entered may be decisive of our existence; and can it be a happy one merely by repeating the wish, while we go heedlessly on to the end of it?

To a happy new year it is essential that we should hear the voice of Him who says, "A new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take